Watching the flustered Sinclair, Eloise inwardly sneered.

From the moment she heard about Ryan’s death until morning, Eloise had been sitting blankly, staring at the bloodstained stationery.

When the morning sun rose, she thought:

‘What should I do now?’

She wanted to rush to the Army Headquarters and demand confirmation of whether Ryan Wilgrave was truly dead.

Of course, they wouldn’t answer her. No, she would be thrown out before even getting inside. Besides, even if it weren’t Eloise, the Army Headquarters would already be crowded with people trying to confirm the truth.

‘Should I go to Gilia then?’

Ryan Wilgrave would be like an enemy to all Gilians. Perhaps they had thrown his corpse into the street for everyone to see. If so, shouldn’t she confirm it with her own eyes?

If anyone threw stones at him, she would block them, and she would eventually bring his remains back to Albion.

“Ha……”

Then Eloise let out a hollow laugh. As if that were possible. Where in that vast Gilia would she go to find him? Perhaps they had already thrown him into a blazing fire.

Knock knock.

At that moment, she heard someone knocking on her door.

“Who is it?”

Her voice came out hoarse from crying all night. But that was actually fortunate—it made her sound as if she had just woken up.

“I’m sorry for the early hour, Eloise. It’s urgent, so I had to wake you. Could we talk for a moment?”

Hearing Sinclair’s voice, Eloise frantically removed her clothes. Then she deliberately put on a thick outer garment to hide her hands, which still had dried blood on them.

Hurriedly making herself look like someone who had just gotten up, she opened the door slightly to find Sinclair standing outside.

Had she also been unable to sleep last night? Her eyes were bloodshot, and she looked tired.

But that fatigue couldn’t completely mask the joy lurking deep within Sinclair.

“Oh, I don’t have any particular business. The gathering yesterday was so chaotic that I couldn’t even confirm you made it to your room properly. I ended up just talking with the remaining guests and falling asleep.”

When guests staying at a house retired to their rooms after a gathering, it was customary for the host to wish them a good rest.

And Sinclair was someone who observed such courtesies meticulously. It was also her way of deepening relationships with her followers.

Moreover, during such exchanges, the other person would often, without realizing it, reveal things they shouldn’t while intoxicated and excited.

But yesterday, everyone had been stirred up by the news about Colonel Wilgrave, so Sinclair hadn’t properly seen off those who were leaving.

‘More like I chose not to.’

She had already been disheartened by the failure of the conflict between Albion and Gilia.

She had consoled herself that it was fine since she hadn’t actually lost anything, but knowing that such an opportunity to hinder both countries wouldn’t come again caused her considerable heartburn.

So she had been wondering if there was some way to deal with Ryan Wilgrave, who seemed likely to continue being an obstacle.

‘To think he would be taken care of like this in Gilia.’

Though she hadn’t yet heard the exact details, Earl Wallace’s message, secretly delivered at dawn, stated that it was presumed a Gilian agent had died in an explosion with him while hiding in a trench.

At the same time, he left a threatening letter saying he would no longer contact Sinclair and that she should burn all records of their correspondence. That was exactly what Sinclair wanted.

‘Arrogant, self-righteous, and greedy. You are one of the very reasons Albion deserves to fall.’

She knew all about the dirty things he did, riding on the earldom his wife had bestowed upon him.

Even during their brief collaboration, his eyes couldn’t hide the contempt he felt for Sinclair.

Those haughty types who looked down on everyone simply because they were nobles—Sinclair herself didn’t want to exchange any more words with such people.

But Sinclair didn’t burn the letter he sent; instead, she put it in the safe behind a painting.

If it had been in code, she would have burned it immediately, but such things could be useful someday to hold over their heads.

Long after she had already fled to Lensk.

Until morning, she drank with her comrades from Lensk. The precious wines she had received as gifts were quickly depleted.

Though they didn’t celebrate loudly out of concern for any ears that might still be around, everyone’s face showed the relief of having a painful tooth extracted.

That was the kind of person Ryan Wilgrave had been.

A brilliant commander who had instantly ended the war with Gilia that was supposed to last another decade.

And now such a person had left this world, without their intervention.

“From tomorrow, we need to stir up people by having Albion’s magazines and newspapers write about how a valuable commander died unjustly.”

Those gullible people who had criticized Colonel Wilgrave without realizing he had saved their lives.

With just a little encouragement, they would now shed tears, lamenting the loss of an outstanding talent like Colonel Wilgrave.

That was also what Sinclair wanted. If that happened, Albionians would harbor resentment toward the Gilians who killed Colonel Wilgrave, and that would become the fuse for another war someday.

With such thoughts, Sinclair enjoyed her happiness until morning. Then suddenly she remembered:

‘Eloise.’

Strangely, whenever she talked with Eloise, she felt an inexplicable wall between them.

It was quite a blow to Sinclair’s pride. With her unique sociability, she had connections not only with the military’s upper echelons but also with the royal family.

Moreover, she could manipulate her followers however she pleased, as if they were in the palm of her hand.

But not Eloise.

‘Ryan Thornton’s testimony bothers me in a vague way.’

Surely Eloise couldn’t have known that Ryan Thornton was Colonel Ryan Wilgrave, yet she spoke differently from what others had said, as if trying to protect him, causing confusion in his pursuit.

While everyone else had gone to bed drunk, Sinclair, left alone, kept turning this thought over in her mind.

Then she got up and came to Eloise now.

If she knew that Sergeant Thornton was Colonel Wilgrave, she would be extremely sad.

But…

“Yawn…… I’m really sorry, but if it’s not urgent, could we talk at mealtime? I think I drank too much yesterday……”

Seeing her act so nonchalantly while rubbing her swollen eyes, it seemed that wasn’t the case after all.

At this sight, Sinclair felt both sympathy and mockery toward Eloise.

Not even knowing her lover was dead, yet acting so composed.

‘I can send her away soon.’

She no longer had any value to use. So Sinclair should gradually encourage her to return to that rural corner she called home.

Still, out of a little pity, she thought she should treat her well until then.

“Anyway, I apologize for last night. It seems I’m still being rude. Please rest well.”

With that, Sinclair returned to her room, contemplating when to send Eloise away.

Not knowing that Eloise had slightly opened the door behind her and was listening to her humming.

The next day, Eloise had a maid open a new bottle of wine and took a sip.

Sinclair had given Eloise permission to go anywhere she liked. This included the wine cellar in the basement.

From there, she had brought up all the bottles that looked most expensive at a glance.

Indeed, from the moment it was opened, the aroma was exceptional, and the taste was equally excellent.

The butler wore a troubled expression, but since Sinclair had ordered that Eloise be given whatever she wanted, he couldn’t say anything.

Especially since Sinclair was absent.

While Sinclair was away trying to learn the exact circumstances, Eloise roamed around the mansion as if it were her own.

She wasn’t doing this out of spite alone.

Eloise poured wine for the flustered and bewildered Sinclair, handing it to her as if giving her own possession, and said:

“Oh, by the way, I had something to ask you.”

Eloise spoke in an indifferent tone, as if it were nothing significant.

“May I use Maria’s private study?”

The study she had already thoroughly searched when others weren’t aware. Eloise watched Sinclair’s troubled expression as she took another sip of wine.

Such petty consumption wouldn’t impact Sinclair anyway.

‘Then…… I’ll have to cause greater damage.’