Chapter 6 – At the Crossroads of Choice (1) (Part 5)

The hand holding the pen tightened gradually. Sighing, Edwin slowly put down the pen with great patience.

“…Alisa Quill.”

He closed the file he had signed with a snap and continued speaking.

“Go find your husband.”

“My husband is busy.”

“So am I.”

When Edwin deliberately waved another file, Alisa replied nonchalantly.

“Yes, you do look busy. You have to work and think about how to woo, so even twelve bodies wouldn’t be enough.”

He gave a pint and received a gallon. His head throbbed. Once you started a verbal fight with Alisa, it was endless.

“I never knew you were so sly.”

She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed like a lady. It was her choice how she laughed, but to Edwin, who knew her usual demeanor, it was no different from a witch’s cackle.

“How many times have I told you that laugh doesn’t suit you. I….”

“Yes, you’re not Arthur.”

“…….”

“And… unless I go crazy, would I do that to you?”

Alisa frowned as if the mere thought gave her goosebumps. Even as she spoke, she seemed uncomfortable, stretching her body as if to shake off the impression.

Everything she wore clinked whenever she moved. Knowing better than anyone what that sound meant, Edwin frowned and spoke.

“…Reduce it when you come to the capital.”

“It’s a habit.”

Shrugging her shoulders, her hand unconsciously went to her waist. Alisa, confirming the unique cool and solid feel of the gun barrel at her fingertips, crossed her arms and asked.

“Anyway, is it true that you and ‘that’ assistant are going alone?”

“…Why exclude Grand Duke Curtis?”

“Oh, that… the ill-fated one from Fontaine….”

“Alisa Quill.”

Momentarily silenced by Edwin’s point, Alisa soon spoke again. Though she mumbled, it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Not even saying it to his face, picking on every little thing. Are you… sexually frustrated or something….”

Still, Alisa Quill wouldn’t back down. It would be far more beneficial to remain silent and handle the work.

“Come to think of it… isn’t this your first love?”

Screech-.

How many seconds had passed since he decided to ignore it? Edwin stared blankly at the paper he had just drawn a line across and then removed it from the file.

I knew it. 

Alisa watched his resistance with a pitiful look and spoke in a low voice.

“…If it were me, I’d just tell her and get it over with, Eddie.”

“…….”

“You’ve heard that strong denial is akin to strong affirmation, haven’t you?”

You should only deny so much.

Though she spoke as if comforting him, it was essentially advice not to deny further lest it become unsightly.

Edwin rang the bell on his desk to summon Philip. While waiting, he clasped his hands and rested his chin on them, speaking first.

“Lorraine doesn’t know yet.”

If they had to talk, it had to end before Philip arrived. Fortunately, it was the weekend, so there was no worry about Lorraine barging in.

“Yes. It seems so. I don’t know how you, Edwin Duncan, ended up like this, but the Duchess seems worried about it.”

What a needless worry.

Edwin let out an irritated sigh. He knew his mother’s concern was justified, but he couldn’t help feeling tired.

Alisa laughed softly, understanding his feelings.

“Understand her. If I had a son who seemed destined to be buried on the battlefield, I’d want to marry him off if he finally found a woman he cared for.”

“She says she’s against marriage.”

“…What?”

“Lorraine Wiig, she’s against marriage.”

A low sigh escaped Edwin’s lips.

***

What kind of arrangement is this?

She was undoubtedly enjoying a sweet weekend. Until she was suddenly summoned, that is. Lorraine hurried out of the house at Louise’s call. Waiting for her was Louise’s carriage.

More precisely, a carriage bearing the insignia of the <Arno Trading Company>.

Getting into the carriage, Lorraine arrived at the private salon of the <Arno Trading Company> she had only heard about.

<Salon de Arno>

The sign was so clean it seemed it hadn’t been up long. While Lorraine was staring blankly at the sign, the carriage door opened, and a familiar figure bowed and greeted her.

“Welcome.”

‘Louise called me, but it’s the Princess’s head maid welcoming me…?’

And that wasn’t all.

“It’s been a while.”

Next to her was Wilson, the manager of Alethea. He smiled warmly and extended his hand as if to escort her.

It was a completely mismatched combination.

‘What on earth is going on….’

She instinctively felt a sense of rejection. However, there was no escape. Slowly rising, Lorraine cautiously took Wilson’s hand.

As Lorraine got out of the carriage, the head maid and Wilson briskly guided her.

“Let’s go.”

Lorraine had no time to admire the salon’s interior, which she had heard cost a fortune, as she was led along.

By the time they reached the deepest part of the salon, the head maid pointed to a door and spoke.

“You can enter through that door.”

That seemed to be the end of their task, as the head maid and Wilson disappeared faster than anyone. Lorraine, after a brief stare-down with the firmly closed door, slowly turned the doorknob.

The door opened, and the faces of the people inside came into view one by one.

Louise and Marianna, Philippa and Alethea, and a stranger were sitting around a round table, looking at her.

Squinting slightly as she assessed the situation, Lorraine was first greeted by Marianna, who was sitting next to Philippa.

“You’re here.”

“…Yes.”

“Why are you dawdling? It’s been a while since we called you.”

Louise, who had summoned Lorraine to this place without any explanation, scolded her with a shameless face. Then, after briefly observing the Princess, Alethea, and the stranger, Lorraine muttered softly.

“…You talk a lot for someone who brought me here like a kidnapper.”

At that moment, Philippa decisively interrupted their bickering.

“Lorraine.”

“…Yes, Your Highness.”

“Sit.”

Lorraine nodded awkwardly.

“…Yes.”

Even amid the commotion, the unfamiliar woman sipped her tea with a serene face. Her short black hair and the dark green eyes visible through thin silver-rimmed glasses were striking.

I’ve seen this color before.

It was a familiar color. Just as Lorraine was trying to recall, Philippa spoke first.

“This is Lorraine Wiig. Known for being the secretary that the notoriously proud Duke Duncan hired after dismissing forty-nine people.”

I’m not that proud.

A sudden thought of wanting to handle things herself arose. Though it was a thought she couldn’t voice. Whether aware of her thoughts or not, Philippa continued speaking.

“And… this is Patricia Crawford. The playwright known as ‘that’ in the rumors.”

Upon hearing the familiar moniker, Lorraine widened her eyes in surprise.

Patricia’s eyebrow twitched, seemingly displeased with Philippa’s introduction.

Patricia set down her teacup and extended her hand.

Clatter-.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Patricia Crawford.”

Lorraine awkwardly raised the corners of her mouth as she shook her hand with a smile.

“Oh, yes… I enjoyed your latest work.”

What is this combination? 

As the two finished their greetings, Alethea stubbed out the cigarette she was holding in the ashtray and asked.

“Alcohol? Coffee?”

“…Coffee, please.”

At Lorraine’s answer, Alethea poured coffee into a spare cup and handed it over. As Lorraine took the cup, she tilted her head.

‘This feels strange….’

Usually, you would call a server to order drinks or food. But having a spare cup prepared like this meant-.

“- Are you plotting something?”

While it could mean saving time, it usually meant that no one else would be allowed into the room during the conversation. Typically, this method was used by male-only social clubs.

“Ha, hahaha… plotting something… well, that’s not entirely wrong.”

Philippa, who had been laughing heartily, wiped the tears from her eyes and continued speaking.

“I’ve come up with an answer.”

“…….”

“An answer about ambition, that is.”

Would it be irreverent to say that her smiling face looked somewhat wicked?

Lorraine was sure she had made a big mistake.