CH 24

Wow, I own this room; do you own this room as well?

The want to be caustic was strong, but Joshua resisted it and sat in silence. He really wanted to talk back at the woman who was both the Crown Prince’s childhood friend and the Prince’s lover (he didn’t know if it was ‘former’ or ‘current’), but he lacked the guts to do so.

“What brought you to the Artists Guild?”

“…I didn’t go.”

“You went there. I heard it from the guild leader.”

Joshua clicked his tongue at the remark that she had already known everything.

“I’m asking because I believe you’ve done a good job of deceiving everyone.”

“I understand. I won’t write an article.”

Please spare my life. As far as Joshua was concerned, Aicila Duncan was more than capable of hiding his grave from prying eyes.

First of all, the newspaper in her hand proved the reason.

Aicila tilted her head slowly and fluttered her eyelashes, which appeared to be made of black industrial complexes. Her rich eyelashes, dappled in the morning light, looked as light as butterfly wings.

She’s breathtakingly beautiful. It’s understandable why the great man Prince Frederick kept clinging onto her like a fool.

The beauty’s red lips parted and she asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you not saying that I mustn’t write an article?”

“Why would I stop you guys from publishing a proper article? In Ederka, freedom of the press must be guaranteed.”

“……”

“I’m angry because you write strange things on purpose.”

But there’s not much— that would stab you. Joshua murmured a little as if he were making excuses.

“Tomorrow’s headline is to attack Artes. The contract between the artists and the House of Count Artes was certainly unfair, and they had been drawn in blood for far too long.”

“Right, of course.”

“Are you satisfied?”

His provocative question garnered a smile from the woman. Her smiling face showed that she was thinking the same thing.

Even as Joshua closed his mouth in embarrassment, Aicila had already started peeling the second candy.

Joshua Lington doesn’t know. Aicila, a seasoned Ruby handler, found his manners right now when he raised his claws and whined to be quite cute.

It was a positive effect brought by Ruby’s bad temper.

“Let’s take care of the second business.”

“Yes?”

“You, would you like to work for me?”

He knows how to get straight to the point. He understands the situation, and his writing abilities are excellent. Likewise, he must be one of the few three reporters who strictly adhered to the spelling in the tabloids.

The young man rolled his eyes, unsure how to interpret her question.

“Be my informant, that’s what I’m saying.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I’ll have no choice but to go to your workplace and force you to resign.”

Aicila smiled softly as she waved the Hollain Daily newspaper.

“I’m on my way back from buying that place today. Call me boss.”

“…May I give you my resignation letter, boss?”

“Go ahead.”

I’ll fix it for you right away. At that simple reply, Joshua began to tear his hair hard with a bewildered expression.

“You want me to be your informant. But why are you accepting my resignation letter?”

“It’s not like I’m trying to coerce you or anything. If you push yourself to work, your performance will decrease. You never know when I’m going to stab you in the back.”

“……”

“You’re getting 300 gold right now.”

“500 gold.”

Joshua extended five fingers. Aicila bit the candy at the annual salary negotiation initiated by the quick-witted man.

I’m sorry, but the barrel is too small.

She looked straight into his twinkling eyes.

“One thousand gold.”

“Yes…? Pardon?”

“I’m not the type of person who lives by saving money. Instead.”

Her once unfettered eyes were now mixed with a bleak pressure. It was the same as when she said to Duncan’s exorbitant tax-paying Crown Prince.

Aicila recited it to the promising young man.

“It’s worth the money.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Only 30 minutes after entering the living room, Aicila came up with a contract, which the young man must have signed with trembling hands.

Looking at the crooked handwriting in the signature column, Mitchell sympathized with Joshua Lington’s feelings.

When she first signed the employment contract, she, too, felt as though the world had flipped upside down. She wondered if she’d be able to see the sun tomorrow, or if it’d rise normally.

It was distinct from the usual yearning for Aicila Duncan.

You won’t sign? Then die. It seemed to be like this.

Did you sign it? Work now. I’ll work you to the bone. That’s what she thought.

She quickly came to terms with the fact that not signing the document would not result in her death and that doing so would only be beneficial financially.

First and foremost, Aicila Duncan was the last person she wanted to face across the negotiating table.

Whether you pay more or less… yes. I shall omit the description below.

“How did it go, Mitchell?”

“The charges are going smoothly. And the reporters in front of Artes’s Top were evenly dispersed. But.”

Mitchell opened the carriage door and beckoned her lady to get in. As soon as they both entered, she lowered her voice and whispered.

“Count Artes was found dead in his carriage.”

“…Huh? What?”

Aicila Duncan was surprised, which was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Mitchell calmly nodded.

“His Highness the Crown Prince has informed me. On his way back to his mansion, Count Artes was found dead in his carriage. It was only when the coachman arrived that it was discovered that the Count had committed suicide.”

“How did he kill himself?”

“He used a knife to sever his throat.”

Aicila slowly leaned her back against the back seat. Mitchell continued to report to her collapsing master, whose posture was drooping as she thought too much.

“The problem is, at least according to the butler Geran, that Count Artes has never used a sword. Therefore, the Crown Prince stated that there is a high probability that this was a murder rather than a suicide.”

“……”

“And that, Milady, you will naturally notice if I say this.”

Aicila uttered a low groan.

You don’t have to spoon me up like that, Lyseltine Ederka.

“The Crown Prince emphasized that he’s the one who has to clean up the mess.”

Thank you for demonstrating the value of paying taxes normally without engaging in tax evasion.

Aicila held back from grumbling, pressing around her tired eyes.

Count Artes’s demise… The death of the useless man with whom she had an exuberant argument until yesterday.

She had no need to be told that he was a worthless sc*mbag who ruined not just his own but also other people’s families. She learned a lot from their few days of fighting.

She wasn’t saddened about his passing and didn’t want to offer condolences, but death is simply not acceptable.

“…He didn’t really change, either.”

Aicila suddenly smiled bitterly. She asked as she avoided the secretary’s round eyes by looking out the window.

“How much grain do we have in our southern warehouses?”

“Let me check. But why all of a sudden…?”

“There’s going to be a bad harvest nearby Artes’s land. There will be severe damage from disease or pests, so prepare grain weeds for that.”

“……”

“We can’t just walk away and leave people to starve to death.”

I hope they don’t unleash a swarm of locusts as they did in the west as a form of rebellion. Aicila, who despises insects, nearly passed out after seeing a swarm of locusts flying all over the sky.

Mitchell muttered a little, nodding her head a couple of times.

“Saintess Wirea has moved.”

“……”

“The temple will stop the fortifications that were given to the Count’s land. I wondered how he dared to take a Duncan away from us, but the answer became clear.”

Count Artes must have been one of Saintess Wirea’s men. It should have been Saintess Wirea’s scheme to steal Ronell away from Duncan, but the Count failed to complete his mission and had to be abandoned.

The thought of the woman who would have given unfailing mercy to her faithful servant made Aicila grimace.

Wirea’s rage never knows when to stop.

Since the Countess assumed Ronell was an illegitimate child, she probably was not aware of the Saintess’s plot. Wirea’s wrath was not directed at her. The same is true for their son.

Nevertheless—

“She only needs to be angry with the Count.”

—sparks will set off all over Artes.

Aicila’s thoughts hopped from the Count who had a pale and tired face, to the Countess who had a venomous attitude, and to Lloyd who was violently petulant.

And at the end of it was Ronell.

One day, the evil-minded cat brought in Duncan’s blood and family, which they had no idea existed. The time when the child was brought from Artes seemed to be vividly portrayed.

That night, when the white stars shone brilliantly. That was a moment she knew she would never forget.

“How about the Countess and their child?”

“Following the Crown Prince’s advice, they were sent to Baron Limand, the Countess’s father. For the time being, only the Count’s wife knows that he committed suicide and has not yet informed their son.”

“I see.”

“If, as Milady suspects, the temple begins to punish them by halting the fortifications.”

A famine in the south granary, which stores 60% of Artes’s riches, would wipe off the entire revenue. And, because the artists were lining up to sue the House of the Count, they’d need more money to cover the settlement fee and other fines.

Mitchell’s reasoning naturally led to a conclusion. She declared confidently.

“Artes will go bankrupt this winter.”