The low voice was unmistakably Karsten’s.

Steadying her surprise, Meliover replied with practiced composure.

“Come in.”

Karsten opened the door and stepped inside. Meliover greeted him with a smile as if his visit were the most natural thing in the world.

He strode over and took a seat across from her.

“Are you feeling any better today?”

“Laterna’s been taking good care of me, so I’m fine.”

As she spoke the name Laterna, Karsten studied his mother’s expression intently. But her face remained perfectly calm, showing no sign of change.

“So that’s why you’ve come? Well, I suppose it’s nice to be ill if it means my son actually comes to my room.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited more often.”

Karsten said, his tone awkward. Since Meliover appeared unexpectedly in his office the previous day, he had felt constantly uneasy. He couldn’t shake off the worry that his mother might have sensed something strange about his conversation with Breti.

“Laterna seems to have a real talent for medicine.”

Perhaps his concerns had been unfounded; there was no hint of suspicion in her manner.

“She’s deft with her hands, just like Karial.”

When Meliover said Breti’s hands were like Cariel’s—despite it being impossible for them to resemble each other—Karsten only grew more puzzled.

‘If she’d overheard that conversation yesterday, she’d surely be suspicious. Had she truly noticed nothing?’

While Karsten was silently observing her, Meliover had already moved to sit beside him, taking his hand in hers.

“Karsten, could you be a little warmer toward Laterna?”

“She must find life here strange and difficult as it is…”

“…”

“Sometimes you’re far too cold to her.”

Meliover added, giving the back of his hand a light smack.

“Especially yesterday.”

“…I’m sorry, Mother.”

“She’s lost her memory—this environment must still feel unfamiliar to her. You’re the only one she has to lean on. Hmm? Will you do as your mother asks?”

“…Yes, Mother.”

It seemed Meliover wasn’t particularly concerned about what had happened yesterday.

Even after that, she continued to praise Breti again and again.

After speaking with her for some time, Karsten saw her lie down in bed, then extinguished the candle before leaving the room.

‘Should I be relieved? She doesn’t seem to be thinking much of it…’

If anything, her trust in Breti appeared to have deepened. And lately, her condition seemed to be improving, which eased his mind further.

‘Is it because of that girl?’

Indeed, ever since Breti had arrived, his mother’s health had shown marked improvement.

‘It might not be a bad idea to keep her close like this.’

He even thought it wouldn’t be so bad if Breti never returned to her harsh old life, and continued living as Laterna instead.

That was when—

“Is that truly what you wish for?”

That all-too-familiar voice brushed past his ear once again.

A chill swept across the back of his neck, and Karsten immediately glanced around. But there was no one there.

‘This happening more often now…’

He frowned faintly. Whose voice was it that came without warning?

His life was slowly finding stability, yet each time these unforeseen occurrences arose, they left him deeply unsettled.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

The Rediac Merchant Company had recently been enjoying considerable profits. These profits came from their dealings with the White Ducal House itself.

The company was responsible for supplying luxury fabrics to Lorin Atelier, a place where the most distinguished young ladies in the capital would spend months trying to secure an appointment.

Naturally, such high demand meant that supply had to increase as well. The White Ducal House, which was responsible for procurement, purchased a large quantity of these exclusive fabrics from the Rediac Merchant Company, the sole supplier.

“At this rate, becoming filthy rich is only a matter of time.”

Heremon said, the company’s president, grinning as he looked over his brimming coffers.

Just then—

“President!”

An unnamed subordinate came rushing toward Heremon in a fluster.

“What is it?”

Heremon looked at him with a disinterested expression. The man, still catching his breath, hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“The White Ducal House has sent word that they wish to return the fabrics from the latest order.”

“What? All of a sudden?”

Heremon reacted irritably, causing the subordinate to flinch slightly. Forcing himself to remain calm, the man relayed exactly what he had just heard.

“Yes, sir. Someone from the White Ducal House came in person to deliver the message.”

“Does that even make sense?!”

Heremon’s face flushed red as he began to roar.

“They were the ones desperate to have the order filled on short notice!”

Heremon had been delighted recently when the White Ducal House requested an increase in the supply of luxury fabrics. He quickly loaded up the bolts of fabric, and all that was left to do was deliver them to the ducal estate.

But now, suddenly, they wanted to cancel.

The world seemed to go dark before his eyes.

‘Don’t tell me…’

They couldn’t have found out—could they?

A sudden unease gripped him, and he sprang to his feet.

“To the ducal estate. Now.”

As the saying goes, a thirsty man will dig his own well. And right now, Heremon was the thirsty one.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

Benon entered Karsten’s office in a hurry.

Karsten, seated at his desk, lifted his head and asked,

“Who’s here to see me?”

“Heremon, president of the Rediac Merchant Company.”

At the name, a faint, amused scoff escaped Karsten.

“He must be feeling the pressure.”

He looked as if he had already expected Heremon to come. Rising from his seat, Karsten gave Benon an order.

“We should extend our own hospitality to our guest.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Benon. Go at once and bring him in.”

Leaving the office, Karsten made his way straight to the reception room.

The moment he entered, Heremon shot to his feet.

“Ah, Your Highness! You honor me with your presence!”

Karsten ignored him and sat down at the head of the table.

“Well. What brings you here?”

Heremon ground his teeth. Now was not the time to lose his temper, though; what mattered was finding a way to win Karsten over.

“I was reminded of something you said before, so I came straight here.”

“What did I say?”

“That once the rainy season ended, sales at the atelier would surge, and we should increase the supply of fabrics…”

Karsten paused as if considering it, then finally spoke.

“Hm, I suppose I did say that.”

“But I heard something rather strange today.”

“Something strange?”

As he watched Karsten feign ignorance, Heremon clenched both fists. However, he was not foolish enough to show open hostility towards someone of Karsten’s standing.

“They say the ducal house is suddenly returning the fabrics we were set to deliver.”

“Hmm…”

“That must be a misunderstanding, surely?” Perhaps I’ve made this trip for nothing, wasting Your Grace’s time—”

“You heard correctly.”

“…Pardon?”

The blunt reply made Heremon feel as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

“I ordered it myself—return all the cloth supplied by the Rediac Merchant Company.”

“Wh-why would you…!”

Heremon’s face flushed red, then pale.

“Have you forgotten the clause stating that if the contract is broken suddenly, or if the agreed quantity isn’t met, you’ll owe a penalty?”

“I’m well aware. That clause was my own suggestion.”

“Then why—!”

When Heremon’s voice rose, Karsten fixed him with a cold stare. Feeling the weight of that gaze, Heremon quickly cleared his throat and lowered his tone.

“Why return the goods? We must at least know the reason…”

“You should already know full well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

As Heremon looked genuinely baffled, Karsten let out a short, mirthless laugh and gestured to Benon.

“Benon. Bring in our guest.”

At his order, Benon stepped out of the reception room, only to return moments later with another man in tow.

The moment Heremon saw the man’s face, the color drained from his own.

“Y-you…!”