Gravel scattered in all directions with a loud noise under the horse’s hooves.

Florian tended to ride faster when his mind was troubled.

Many people thought that “the Cold-Blooded of Highcross” would treat poor animals harshly, but that wasn’t the case.

‘They’re far better than damn humans.’

Florian thought, patting the neck of his beloved horse “Blackstorm” as it galloped at full speed, cutting through the wind. Animals never betray him. They never disappoint him. They never wound his heart.

His mother, who had wasted away and left this world when he was eight years old, had craved his father’s love and attention until her dying day.

Although it was a strategic marriage with a huge dowry at stake, for his mother, it had been love.

But his father never gave the Countess even a warm glance, and soon after she entered her grave, he held a second wedding ceremony with his first love, a poor Viscount’s daughter.

That’s how, in the year he turned ten, he gained a new mother and a late-born half-brother.

His new mother Zelda was consistently kind to him, and his brother Griffin was always a well-behaved boy who looked up to his older brother, but Florian never considered them true family.

Not for a single moment.

‘Just damn freeloaders.’

As soon as he became the eighth Count Harford, the first thing he did was move the late Count’s wife to a separate building.

‘You might find it difficult to stay in the mansion because of memories with my father, so please live quietly somewhere far away.’

When he spoke coldly, Zelda packed her belongings without protest.

‘Coming in with nothing and receiving my father’s abundant love, enjoying the status of “Countess”—they probably thought that glory would last forever. But life is so unpredictable.’

Florian thought bitterly.

If he were to marry and bring a real Countess Harford into this house, Zelda’s position would become even more awkward.

A well-educated, haughty noblewoman wouldn’t bother showing proper respect to a stepmother her husband didn’t even like.

So perhaps they were right.

If he just married a woman with a substantial dowry who could revive the failing estate, everything would be resolved smoothly.

No, he probably couldn’t revive barren Highcross itself, but at least if he could buy plenty of good land, everything could be different.

That way, he could increase the size of his estate befitting the status of “Count Harford,” supply Highcross with good ingredients, and supplement what was lacking.

“Whoa!”

Florian pulled on the reins.

Prrr.

Blackstorm’s breath scattered white in the air as he stopped abruptly.

If only he married well,

If only he brought in a wealthy woman.

The problem was……

Florian Damon Harford, this cold man said to have a face given by God and a tongue made by the devil, absolutely had no intention of doing so.

He believed love was a pitiful luxury and marriage a damn waste.

He absolutely refused to create another sacrificial lamb like his mother.

So there was only one way to solve all these problems.

That document that had been sleeping in his desk drawer for a year.

He had completely forgotten about it, but a few days ago, while talking with his lawyer and estate manager in the study, he suddenly remembered and searched for it—and there it was, right where he had left it.

It was a gift suddenly thrust upon him a year ago by some crazy nobleman who had appeared out of nowhere.

***

It was a night when, as he sometimes did on sleepless nights after arguing with his father, he secretly rode to a tavern in a remote village far from the estate.

A night when he needed somewhere to vent his pent-up frustration and expend energy.

As always, hiding his identity behind modest clothes and a hat, he arrived when the drinking and card games were already in full swing.

There were many outsiders, all thoroughly drunk and rowdy.

One particularly loud-voiced man was making a commotion in a corner seat.

He claimed he wouldn’t leave tonight until he had made a proper fortune.

‘I’ve burned my bridges! If I fail, I have nowhere to go back to! So I’ll show you what I’m made of!’

With a bright red strawberry nose befitting a man who had ruined his life with alcohol, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

‘One more round! Just one more round! Anyone dare to challenge me, huh?’

‘You seem to have played enough, Baron. That thin purse of yours appears to be completely empty now.’

The people around laughed uproariously.

Occasionally, “noble lords” would visit such remote, shabby taverns.

Unlike Florian, they didn’t even try to hide their status.

People who had nothing but their family name.

People who had squandered their vast fortunes on pleasure and had nowhere left to retreat, driving them slightly mad.

‘I’ll be your opponent.’

Florian smiled and sat down across the table.

Suppressing the faint anger boiling deep in his heart, he simply smiled refreshingly.

‘I’m…… ‘

Florian reached into the old shirt he had borrowed from his servant, grabbed the pendant hanging around his neck, tore it off, and placed it on the table.

‘The chain is pure gold too. It’s quite valuable. I’ll add the stallion I rode here. He’s a purebred thoroughbred, healthy and two years old—you’ll like him.’

Both were like treasures to him.

Things worth risking his life to protect.

Not something he could easily hand over to someone else.

The pure gold pendant contained a portrait of his deceased mother, and “Blackstorm” was not just a horse to him but like a brother.

So the pathetic human before him would have to wager something of equal value.

Florian Damon Harford was prepared to fight to the death to protect what he had placed on this table.

Fortunately, the drunken man didn’t disappoint his expectations.

With trembling hands, he took out a neatly folded document and a heavy brass key from his pocket.

He said they were as precious as his life.

‘What is that?’

When Florian asked with a smirk, the man answered seriously.

‘Clairfield.’

***

Marina quietly closed the door and came out into the hallway.

“How is he doing?”

“He’s asleep.”

Marina sighed.

“We’ve tied up all his limbs but loosened one arm slightly. I’m not sure if that’s okay.”

“He should be fine using that.”

Hubert said firmly.

“Using what?”

“You know, that thing. You don’t need to know the details. Anyway, we’ll guard this place securely, so Miss, you should go to bed……”

“No, what exactly is it? Just tell me clearly. Why do you keep trying to exclude me?”

“That’s not it. I’m saying you don’t need to personally worry about a man of unknown origin like him. If it weren’t for this situation, we would have called the real constable to report him, but with so many enemies around, we can’t afford to make a big fuss, so we just……”

As I stared frustratedly at Hubert, who kept rambling without answering my question, Marina silently mouthed ‘chamber pot, chamber pot’ from behind him.

Ah……

My face flushed as I suddenly remembered the moment I had been pinned under that heavy body.

Right, one hand would be enough to use the chamber pot stored under the bed.

“The thought of having to empty it makes me dizzy, but I guess we have no choice.”

Marina sighed.

“He’s clearly pretending!”

Hubert said.

“He’s planning to stick with the story that he can’t remember anything! We’ll see how long he keeps it up.”

“When daylight comes, shouldn’t we bring in a… doctor? We can’t keep him like this forever……”

“Absolutely not!”

Hubert said forcefully.

“Right now we need to be as discreet as possible—a strange man appearing n*ked in the middle of the night! Your reputation would be ruined.”

“True, everyone in the village is probably waiting for us to make a mistake so they can find fault with us.”

Marina muttered.

“No! Maybe…… they’re not just waiting for us to make a mistake, but trying to make us make one.”

Lost in thought, Marina suddenly grabbed Hubert’s arm, causing the poor butler to jump in surprise.

“What if he’s a spy?”

“A spy?”

“A spy sent by Mr. Feldwell.”

Who…… sent what?