“I have an idea, Your Highness the Empress Consort. That commoner mother will be the one to strip the child of the countship.”

“Not bad.”

Victoria lightly tapped the handle of her teacup.

The head lady-in-waiting approached, discarding the cooled tea of both Victoria and Cordelia, and poured them fresh tea at the right temperature.

‘Cordelia, is it. I’ll have to keep watching a bit longer to see if she’s useful.’

Victoria raised her teacup and scrutinized Cordelia from head to toe.

Cordelia sat with her back straight, without the slightest flaw in her posture, meeting Victoria’s gaze head-on.

“Young Lady, the Imperial Family and the Temple will guarantee it. Have the documents drawn up.”

Victoria continued her conversation not with Clark, but with Cordelia.

“Yes, Your Highness the Empress Consort.”

“And, I hear there are not quite enough workers in my Helga family’s mines.”

“Our Nion County will take responsibility and provide them.”

“Haha. Boldness beyond measure.”

At Cordelia’s confident declaration, Victoria finally burst into a radiant laugh.

***

The next morning, the door of the most expensive inn on Blue Stella Island opened.

Dressed in a luxurious navy suit, Carleon adjusted his cuffs before the full-length mirror and turned his gaze toward the door.

“The ship is ready to sail now, my lord.”

His subordinate, Rashid Illus, was not dressed in black, but instead wore a robe favored by wealthy nobles when traveling.

Carleon gave a small nod and placed a red wig on his head.

As Carleon meticulously concealed his black hair, Rashid continued his report.

“The funeral of Count Nion and his wife is said to last for a week.”

A moment of silence passed.

Carleon, slow but steady in his movements, tied a white silk cravat.

‘If only you would get angry, or at least cry.’

Rashid watched Carleon and bowed his head.

Yet again, someone who had tried to protect Carleon was dead.

Having fed on that grief and despair, Carleon grew to be a head taller than most knights.

The lethal aura surrounding his agile body grew sharper day by day, nourished by their deaths.

He could not recall when warmth last touched those eyes, sharp as though they could flay skin like thin ice.

Nor did he remember when the lips, pressed tight upon a face so beautiful it resembled the late empress, last curved into a gentle smile.

The countless scars hidden beneath his flawless suit were but decorations that made Carleon appear all the stronger, all the more dangerous.

“The Count has a daughter, doesn’t he?”

Carleon, holding a black umbrella, spoke to Rashid reflected in the mirror.

“She has a reputation for being a tomboy, but she grew up much loved by her people. Once the funeral ends and she inherits the countship, she will soon shake off her grief and begin managing the territory.”

“I see.”

Carleon left the room with Rashid.

As though the typhoon had passed only briefly, the sun shone down, yet soon enough, white feathery clouds filled the entire sky.

***

“They say a typhoon blew through, but it’s still beautiful. Blue Stella, that is.”

It had been five days since the death of the Count and Countess of Nion.

Stepping down from the grand ship, Cordelia pressed her hat firmly against her head so the wind would not snatch it away.

Now and then, the sight of trees cut clean at the base testified to the strength of the recent storm, but the island was so orderly that it was hard to believe a typhoon had passed.

“My brother judged the season of the typhoon perfectly. Because we prepared thoroughly in advance, the damage was bound to be small.”

Clark stood beside Cordelia.

When islanders recognized him and bowed, he merely inclined his head in return.

When Judith also stood beside Cordelia, one of the Nion estate’s carriages approached them.

“We have come to fetch you, Lord Clark Nion.”

A servant of the estate, whose face he could not even remember, bowed before them.

“The carriage is unnecessary. I have brought with me everything I need.”

“Pardon?”

The servant, not yet accustomed to the etiquette of serving nobles, straightened in confusion.

“That banner is…”

“The Imperial Knights?”

The people gathered at the pier widened their eyes and began to murmur.

“Lord Clark Nion, please take the lead.”

Hundreds of mounted knights holding banners embroidered with golden dragons lined up behind Clark.

“My lord.”

From a restaurant by the pier, Rashid quietly called to Carleon, who was fixedly watching.

He feared that someone among the Imperial Knights might see Carleon’s face and catch on.

“We’ll watch until the funeral ends, then return to the capital.”

Carleon, staring long at the Imperial Knights, turned his head and unfolded the newspaper lying on the table.

***

“Welcome, Uncle, Aunt.”

“Yes. You must have suffered much.”

Shartiel greeted Clark’s family and the 8th Imperial Knight Division at the front entrance of the main house of the estate.

All the remaining servants and knights were arrayed there as well, standing behind Shartiel.

“An honor to meet you, Commander. I am Countess Shartiel Nion.”

Shartiel frowned as he looked at the gray-haired commander of the Imperial Knights, who had not even dismounted.

‘He was said to be Viscount Felita. That he became commander of the Imperial Knights through bribes.’

The nobles who came to the island on vacation had once been overheard talking. There were even rumors that he had so much money that he would soon buy a countship.

“Viscount Felita, Commander of the 8th Imperial Knights.”

When Shartiel looked at him with obvious displeasure, Viscount Felita smirked and stepped down from his horse.

‘She’s a bit rustic from having only grown up in the countryside, but if I dress her up, she’ll be quite amusing to toy with.’

The fact that she was so brazen, even while standing before knights brimming with murderous aura, meant she would surely provide plenty of entertainment in bed as well.

“Lady Shartiel.”

Viscount Felita walked right up to Shartiel and stopped in front of her.

“How rude of you. I am not a lady but the Countess…”

“By order of the Imperial Family and the Temple, your right of succession to the countship has been revoked.”

Before Shartiel had even finished speaking, he shoved a document bearing the Emperor’s seal before her eyes.

***

“Leave the books! Those are the books my father and I used to read!”

Shartiel stood in front of the bookshelf, arms spread wide, glaring at her aunt, Judith.

Everyone had been driven out. Using the pretext that the mansion had not been properly protected, Viscount Felita disbanded the knightly order as soon as he arrived.

Clark and Judith dismissed all the servants who had been working in the manor and replaced them with people they had brought from the capital.

“Bring in more maids.”

Judith tried to push Shartiel away, but when she held her ground firmly, Judith called for the maids.

“Let go! Don’t touch me! And don’t touch the books either!”

“What kind of noble lady is this strong!”

Only after four maids rushed in and seized Shartiel’s arms and legs were they able to subdue her.

Judith frowned deeply at the sight, then pulled books from the shelves and let them drop to the floor.

“You’ve been piling up all these useless books in this island prison, never once setting foot in the capital, so the only mourners you had were the island folk.”

‘Tch. What use is being one of the ten great noble houses? With no connections in the capital, it amounts to nothing.’

Clicking her tongue, she muttered the last words under her breath and pulled out all the astronomy books worn by the hands of Shartiel and Daniel Nion.

“Burn them. Fill this place with economics and politics instead.”

“Yes, madam.”

As the maids bent to take the books piled on the floor, Shartiel’s pupils shook violently.

She tore herself free from the maids and jumped to her feet, grabbing Judith’s hand.

“These are the books I read with Father. Please, at least let me keep them as mementos.”

Shartiel pleaded.

Each day was nothing but confusion and nightmares.

Before she could even investigate her parents’ killers, her mother was branded a dishonorable woman and she was stripped of her right to succeed the title.

In her previous life, she had hovered between life and death for a month, so she had not known the details of what happened within that time.

When she finally regained consciousness back then, only her uncle and aunt’s maids remained around her.

In her past life, her uncle and aunt had treated her rather kindly.

Even her cousin Cordelia had pitied her, having lost everything.

Foolishly, Shartiel had believed it then.

‘I thought at least there would be a trial for succession after the funeral! To think they would seize the title so immediately!’

Traditionally, it had never been so. Unless it was treason, there had been no precedent of stripping a title during the funeral itself.

When her father and mother were married, her mother had already been pregnant with her.

Yet no one had doubted that she was her father’s daughter.

What had been naturally accepted for twenty years was suddenly thrown into doubt, and everything was taken away.

All because of a single testimony from a woman who claimed to have been her mother’s friend twenty years ago.

“Shartiel.”

Judith called her in a gentle voice. Just like in her past life, when she had pitied Shartiel for the great scar on her face.

“Yes, Aunt…”

Shartiel’s voice trembled faintly. Her eyes wavered, carrying the last of her desperate hope.

Judith, her face kind, withdrew her hand from Shartiel’s grip.

As Shartiel blinked in hope, Judith slowly stroked her head.

“Nowhere on you is there any sign of the Nion family’s traits. Look at our Cordelia. She’s the very picture of a true Nion.”

Clicking her tongue once more, Judith turned away sharply, cold air in her wake.

“Lock her away in her room, out of sight. It’s an embarrassment.”

“Aunt! Aunt!”

Though Shartiel cried out desperately as she was dragged to her room, once the door closed it would not open again.

***

That night, one of the third-floor terrace windows of the Nion manor opened slightly, cautiously.

A tuft of pink hair poked through the small gap, just enough to fit a head.

Dressed in black trousers, Shartiel pushed the window open a little more, shaking her head left and right as she surveyed the area.

Fortunately, there were no guards on the terrace.

Looking down, she saw the garden was also empty.

‘Those books are expensive! The maids wouldn’t burn them. They must have hidden them somewhere to sell later!’

Shartiel wrapped her hair beneath a black kerchief, then pulled out long black cloths sewn together from beneath her bed.

Because she had so often used the terrace to sneak out, the maids had sewn them sturdily, just to keep her safe.

Using a knight’s knot, Shartiel expertly tied one end of the cloth to a bedpost.

She tossed the other end over the terrace railing, checked the length, then carefully climbed over.

‘They must have put them in the grain storehouse!’

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she ran toward the storehouse between the main and annex buildings.

The maids would never have hidden them in their own rooms, for fear of Judith.

Books, being delicate against dampness, would surely be kept somewhere dry.

‘I just need to take them all out and move them to the hideout! Then I can recover them later!’

In a corner of the rose garden was a small hole she and the maids had secretly used to slip out of the manor.

It took about an hour’s run from that hole to reach the hideout.

Once the books were moved there, she could return for them later.

“Hah… hah…”

Standing before the grain storehouse, Shartiel leaned against the door with her palm, bending over.

Her throat was parched as she gasped for breath, pressing her right palm hard against her left chest.

‘Is it because I haven’t exercised in days? Or because I haven’t been eating well?’

She couldn’t believe she was this winded after only thirty minutes of running.

‘If that strict captain of the knights heard this, he’d make me run ten more laps of the training grounds.’

Her hand curled into a fist as she tried to steady her breathing.

‘It’s just dust, just dust.’

Wiping her eyes with both fists, Shartiel pulled a hairpin from her hair as though nothing were wrong.

After one more glance around, she pressed herself against the door and gripped the large lock.

Click—

After twisting the hairpin this way and that several times, Shartiel grinned broadly.