Chapter 7

Cassia asked,

“What’s with your face? You look like a woman drained by a succubus.”

‘Drained? If anything, I drained him. Like a dwarf who struck gold.’

“What’s wrong with my face… Anyway, how’s the development of the new d*ldo going?”

“Almost done.”

Cassia answered as she rummaged through the bread bag Lucy had brought. Lucy glanced at the club members’ newsletter on the table.

[Penden’s madman returns to the Capital—The real story!]

‘It’s about Aicel Penden!’

Lucy glanced at Cassia, then quickly grabbed the newsletter and skimmed through it. She didn’t even know what she was expecting.

It was all stuff everyone already knew.

He belonged to the miracle shooting squad, which succeeded at even the most hopeless missions. The dishonorable discharge was a rumor; some guessed he was called to the Capital to join a new elite shooting unit created by the Imperial Family.

There was not a single mention of erectile dysfunction or his s*x life.

“Cassia. Do you know Aicel Penden?”

“Aicel Penden? Of course. He’s famous.”

Cassia replied, chewing on bread.

“He’s a great shot—there aren’t many in the Empire better than him. They say he’ll be captain of the Crown Prince’s guard. He’s a total madman, but no matter how good the family is, with a ruined personality, can you really get such a post?”

Well, in this unfair age, corruption in appointments happens all the time. Cassia, herself a noble lady, shrugged and continued.

“Aicel Penden came to the Capital for marriage, I think. He’s at the perfect age. But is there any lady who’d marry him?”

“Why? Because of his personality?”

“No. More because… there are some strange rumors about his birth.”

Lucy looked at the article Cassia pointed out, [The Penden Duke’s Suspicious Love Line].

The Duke of Penden had three sons with his first wife. It was a typical political marriage, so the couple’s relationship was poor, and both had many scandals. They eventually separated, and ten years later, after the Duchess died of illness, the Duke quickly remarried his first love, a beautiful woman.

The next year, he publicly presented nine-year-old Aicel Penden as the first Duchess’s son. Naturally, society speculated Aicel was born from an affair.

Lucy finished reading the article. It said the first Duchess’s family vouched for Aicel’s bloodline, and the rumors of illegitimacy faded away.

Currently, the Duke hadn’t responded to the rumors, had entrusted all family affairs to his eldest son, and was traveling with his second wife.

“So why did you suddenly ask about that man?”

Cassia asked, and Lucy considered telling her what happened, but decided against it. Her loyal friend already disliked that Lucy spent a fortune searching for Sybil Noctus. If she found out Lucy got dragged into trouble because of her brother, Cassia might spend her entire fortune hiring assassins to kill him. Lucy wanted to protect her friend’s assets.

“Just… I heard about him from customers at the shop yesterday. He seemed nasty, but people say he’s… the most handsome in the Empire…”

Adding her own honest opinion, Lucy watched Cassia shake her head.

“I’ve seen him once from a distance. I admit he’s good-looking, but Aicel Penden is too famous.”

“Really? More for bad things, right?”

“Yeah. Was it ‘Mad Dog’ or ‘Mad Crocodile’? That’s his nickname.”

“Ah…”

Lucy had put her head into the mouth of that mad crocodile today, and miraculously pulled it out. She felt oddly proud to be alive.

Lucy placed her hand reverently over her heart and murmured,

“I really am amazing.”

“Suddenly?”

“I’m going to send my resume to the Empire’s greatest circus, ‘The Great Bangshow’. My specialty: putting my head in a crocodile’s mouth and pulling it out.”

“What?”

Cassia was baffled, and Lucy shot rude finger gestures in all directions at the air.

***

That night, Lucy dreamed of her hometown for the first time in ages.

Lucy’s hometown was a big provincial city called Asric.

In her childhood memories, there’s a boy with black hair who appears strangely blurred. She can’t remember where he lived, what his family was like, or how they met.

Seeing that pretty boy made her want to hug him, but she also felt jealous, thinking he lived in a better environment than she did.

The boy, whose family had fallen on hard times, stood still as the girl—no longer called ‘Young Lady’—touched his face as much as she wanted. He even blushed a little, looking embarrassed, and Lucy thought he was adorable.

‘I’m going to get married someday. With you, Lucy.’

That wasn’t her imagination—the boy had really said it to her.

So, what did she reply?

‘You won’t even remember when you grow up…’

She couldn’t quite recall his name. She only vaguely remembered thinking it sounded like a sneeze.

But that wasn’t the important part.

The boy hugged Lucy, and his hand slid from her shoulder to her neck.

“Wait, that’s starting to hurt…”

Suddenly, the child’s hand became a man’s, large and strong.

“Take responsibility.”

The one strangling her was none other than Aicel Penden, grinning wickedly!

“Take responsibility.”

How did that angelic boy turn into a thug and blackmailer!

***

“Ahhh!”

Lucy, flailing in her dream, woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. Disappointingly, it was already morning. Sunlight poured in, stinging her eyes. A mechanical bird chirped loudly, serving as her alarm.

“Whew.”

Wide awake, Lucy wound down the bird’s spring to silence the alarm and caught her breath.

‘What kind of dream was that…’

As she absentmindedly rubbed her neck, still feeling the phantom grip, the doorbell rang—loud and urgent.

Lucy threw on a thick shawl and went to the entrance. Behind the open door stood a very busy-looking postman.

“Telegram for you.”

Seeing Lucy’s haggard face, the postman handed her a cylinder from his huge leather bag, then sped off on a single-seat metal bike.

The copper cylinder, about 25cm long and easy to grip with one hand, wasn’t ordinary. It was ornate, the kind nobles used, and bore the Penden Dukedom’s crest—a howling wolf embossed on its surface.

Inside was a single sheet of fine paper, rolled up, just as she expected—sent by Young Master Aicel Penden.

He could have sent a person, but he had money to burn, Lucy thought, as she checked the contents.

Once again, the handwriting was wild, betraying his character:

[Come immediately. Bring this and you’ll be let in at the entrance.]

“R-right now?!”

‘He said he wouldn’t call me today!’

Not knowing the mad dog’s mind would change so quickly, Lucy felt her own sanity wavering. Hastily stuffing the paper back into the cylinder, she rushed to the washstand, splashing water on her face in a hurry.

She changed into outdoor clothes, and, just in case, threw yesterday’s helpful potion into her bag.

There was no time.

Finishing her preparations in a rush, Lucy hailed a carriage on the street. With frantic shouts to hurry, she sped to Aicel’s mansion. Guided by Ulysses, she hurried into the drawing room, where the master of the house, unlike her, was lounging comfortably on a chaise, spinning a gun around his finger.

“…You’re late.”

Lucy glanced at the crystal grandfather clock in the corner. Her dream furniture, the automaton, had a transparent casing, so its inner golden spring and other complex mechanisms were clearly visible, ticking away.

The time was just past 9:30. Lucy felt wronged. Wasn’t a madman supposed to keep late hours?

‘Who knew the madman was an early bird.’

Turns out the early bird doesn’t get the worm—it just bullies the other birds.

The old sages were sometimes wrong.

“Good morning, Mad—Young Master.”

(T/N: “Good morning, Mad—”

Lucy deliberately pronounced ‘Young Master’ in an ambiguous way, subtly slipping in a jab.

Here, “Mad” is a stand-in to show she started to say “Doryeonnim (Young Master)” but twisted it to sound like 돌은님 (Mad One).)

The joke is that it sounds close enough to the real honorific that she can claim innocence, but those who catch the nuance would know it’s an insult.)

Lucy deliberately mispronounced ‘Young Master’, hoping to subtly mock him. Since he’d gone mad, the title fit. But if caught, she could be charged with insulting a noble, so she planned to keep her tone somewhere between weak and strong.

“This morning, when it almost stood up, I tried applying what you gave me.”

“Yes.”

Lucy answered politely, and Aicel pointed somewhere with his chin. Apparently, it hadn’t worked well—shattered glass fragments were gathered in the corner. Lucy also noticed the carpet bore traces of having been wet and then dried.

She imagined the scene of him losing his temper and throwing the bottle.

“Damn it, are you trying to scam me right now?”

Having been burned by Sybil Noctus before, Aicel was sensitive to betrayal. His temper was bubbling like an active volcano, on the verge of erupting.

As he abruptly tried to stand up, Lucy calmly soothed the situation.

“Oh, please, calm down, Young Master. I’ve been in business for years. I would never do anything to damage my reputation!”

“I told you.”

Aicel gritted his teeth. His stylish face flashed with a fierce glare. The veins on his neck stood out so much that Lucy instinctively shrank her shoulders.

“I’m not in a good mood, since your damn brother scammed me…”

Startled by the pressure, Lucy reflexively raised her hand in defense, only to touch his firm chest muscles. It was a solid, full chest that filled her hand. Lucy quickly pulled her hand back, but Aicel was even quicker.

“……!”

He grabbed Lucy’s hand. He didn’t harm her, just stared intently at his tightly held hand, as if realizing something.

“Y-Young Master…?”

He truly looked as if he’d realized something profound. Yet, it wasn’t the face of a saint who’d reached enlightenment, but rather the vibe of a heretic deciding on betrayal.