Chapter 88

88: Swift Moves (2)

Countess Owens stood up in shock, her face pale.

“What are you doing here?”

“Watch your tone.”

The man who had followed Adelaide into the room partially drew his sword, then sheathed it again, threateningly. Countess Owens turned even paler.

There was no doubt that Adelaide Cornwall held a deep grudge against her. Since Adelaide’s debut in high society, she has been intentionally ignored and ostracized by Countess Owens, enough to foster significant resentment.

But to set a trap like this—how cowardly!

Infuriated by the audacity of someone she considered merely the discarded prince’s fake wife wielding such meager power, Countess Owens retorted sharply.

“What are you plotting? Why have you lured us here?”

“Plotting? That’s not a pleasant word to hear.”

Adelaide smirked as she sat down, facing the panting Countess Owens.

“Get up, dear! Let’s leave.”

Countess Owens grabbed her husband’s hand and tried to lead him out of the room, but the men standing by the door blocked their way.

“Sit down.”

“…”

The authoritative tone made Countess Owens bite her lip.

She had once thought Adelaide to be a mere crying girl in the corner of a ballroom, but now she realizes she is no longer a pushover. With no choice, she returned to the sofa. Adelaide instructed the maid standing beside her.

“Margaret, bring ‘it’ to our guests.”

“Yes.”

Margaret left the room and returned with a glass filled with a bluish liquid, placing it on the table. It didn’t look drinkable at all.

“Drink it all. Don’t leave a drop.”

“How dare you offer me this trash…!”

“The trash is more like the pudding you sent me.”

“…!”

Countess Owens’s eyes widened. Adelaide sneered slightly. She remembered. In fear, Countess Owens looked at the glass, wondering if it might be poisoned. Who knew they were here? She needed to inform Martin, at least…

“It’s not poisoned, so go ahead and drink it.”

Before she could respond, one of the men forcibly placed the glass in the Count’s hand.

His hand trembled as he looked at the glass, then he closed his eyes tightly and drank it all in one go.

“Ugh!”

He tried to retch, but the man clamped his mouth shut. Adelaide, watching passively, turned her gaze to Countess Owens.

“Why are you just watching?”

“…”

Under Adelaide’s urging, Countess Owens reluctantly picked up the glass. The unfamiliar smell made her want to vomit. She managed to take a sip before putting the glass down.

“I can’t drink anymore.”

“You won’t be able to leave here unless you finish it.”

Damn it! The intimidating presence of the men left her no room to argue. Countess Owens forced herself to drink the rest.

“You drank it well. I couldn’t manage it myself; it seems it suits your taste.”

Adelaide laughed lightly, pointing at the empty glass. Countess Owens, anger boiling, raised the glass, but Adelaide spoke again.

“Count, your hand isn’t trembling anymore?”

“What?”

Count Owens looked at his hand. The constant shaking due to withdrawal symptoms had stopped. He opened and closed his fist several times, unable to believe it.

“What’s happening, dear?”

Countess Owens blinked, her eyes wide. Adelaide responded nonchalantly.

“It’s an antidote for Velido’s toxicity. If you cooperate with me, I can provide more.”

Count Owens’ ears perked up.

For a long time, he had suffered from the aftereffects of Velido. When its effects wore off, excruciating pain followed, and he caused multiple scenes, claiming he’d rather die. Even doctors had given up on him, making Adelaide’s offer seem like salvation.

“Is this true?”

“She’s lying. Don’t trust her, dear!”

But Countess Owens was certain Adelaide wouldn’t make such an offer without an ulterior motive.

“You don’t trust me?”

“Of course not! You’re trying to deceive us with some petty lies…”

“Would you believe it if I vouched for her?”

A deep voice came from outside the room. A tall man entered, and Count Owens immediately bowed to the ground.

“Duke Tiflis!”

“It’s been a while, Count Owens.”

Callion offered a light greeting as he took a seat next to Adelaide. Before the surprise could subside, another man entered the room.

“Martin?”

“Mother.”

Martin Owens looked calmly at his parents. Count Owens raised his head quickly.

“Martin, why are you here?”

“I sent the invitations to you.”

“What?”

“I asked them to give you a chance to ask the Duke’s forgiveness.”

“This is your first and last chance.”

Callion’s voice was calm but carried an undeniable authority. Countess Owens struggled to keep her voice steady as she responded.

“I don’t understand what we are supposed to be asking forgiveness for. What could we possibly have done wrong to Your Grace…”

Martin Owens answered instead. He threw a ledger onto the table, causing Countess Owens to gasp. It was the ledger from the slave auction held in Tiflis.

“Do you still claim ignorance?”

“We were wrong. Please spare our lives, Your Grace!”

Count Owens, too timid to resist, buried his head and begged. Realizing the futility of denial, Countess Owens asked reluctantly.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Soon, His Majesty will request this ledger. Before that happens, I want you to alter it.”

“Alter the ledger?”

Countess Owens frowned at Adelaide’s words.

“There’s no need to overthink it. It’s a simple task.”

“I’ll do it.”

Count Owens nodded vigorously, having clearly changed his mind. Countess Owens bit her lip hard.

She was shrewd enough to read the tides of fortune, having chosen Elkius over Callion when the latter was still Crown Prince, all for the sake of securing her position in high society. But was that choice still valid now?

Callion spoke again, breaking the silence.

“If you refuse this offer, I will hold you accountable for your actions in Tiflis.”

Adelaide seamlessly took over.

“In case you didn’t know, the Empire is currently desperate to root out the criminals. While His Grace has managed to keep it from becoming an international issue, if things escalate, there’s no guarantee His Majesty will be able to protect you.”

Finally, Martin Owens handed his mother a newspaper.

“If you don’t agree, I, as His Grace’s vassal first and your son second, will make this public.”

The newspaper Martin handed over contained a detailed report of the Owens’ misdeeds. Countess Owens felt dizzy, clutching her forehead.

“Martin, how could you…?”

“I’m sorry, Mother. But I must follow what I believe to be right.”

There was no choice. If they refused, the Owens family would be ruined by tomorrow. Even if they feigned agreement, Elkius would not protect a spent pawn.

“My dear, answer them quickly.”

Count Owens nudged his wife’s arm urgently. She forced out the words with great difficulty.

“So, what exactly do we need to do?”

Adelaide smiled and handed over a new ledger.

“Let’s start with this ledger.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

The penitence chamber of the central temple was located deep underground. It was used to confine priests who violated regulations, essentially serving as a prison.

The windowless room was perpetually dark, regardless of the time of day. The cold, uneven stone floor made it difficult to sit, let alone lie down.

Cardinal Orland, seated in a corner of the chamber, glared at the door. He had been confined here for several days without a single visitor.

‘What do they plan to do with me? ’

He clenched his fist in frustration. His hand throbbed from the cut he received while trying to remove the fake regalia from the pope’s chest. He sighed, rubbing the wound.

Who could have done such a thing?

No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t identify the culprit. The most suspicious person was Cardinal Dorfman, but with the pope’s position practically assured to him, he had no reason to commit such an act.

If only he could speak to someone, he could at least ask what had happened. He even found himself wishing for an interrogation.

‘Could His Majesty have intervened?’

He speculated that the emperor might be putting pressure on them to exonerate him, considering it would do no good for the emperor if the incident became public knowledge. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left him alone this long.

Regardless, his hopes of becoming pope were dashed, and he would have to be grateful if he could just clear his name of the murder charge. Biting his lip, he lamented his misfortune.

Just as he was cursing the god he once worshipped, the door creaked open. Light flooded in, causing Cardinal Orland to squint. Several inquisitors entered, binding his hands behind his back and gagging him.

“What are you… mmm!”

“Cooperate quietly, and it will be easier for you.”

The burly inquisitor muttered. Cardinal Orland nodded fearfully.

“Take him away.”