Claude gazed sternly at Carso, his hand extended toward Owen, who presented him with the thick papers. It was the account book that Kanilia had painstakingly corrected the night before, and Carso’s face drained of color as he realized there was an error.
Claude gazed sternly at Carso, his hand extended toward Owen, who presented him with the thick papers. It was the account book that Canillia had painstakingly corrected the night before, and Carso’s face drained of color as he realized there was an error.
“You seem flustered, so let’s not dwell on it. Learn from your mistakes and pass the exam this time. As a steward, bring your A game. I can’t trust the graduation report that Southern Academy handed me,” Claude spoke with an air of authority.
Carso’s face contorted with a bluish hue, and he stammered, “Your Highness, please believe me! It was just a formula error. I was a little confused.”
“You cannot afford to make mistakes when dealing with taxes.” Claude retorted.
Carso tried to defend himself but Claude silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Lower your voice. You know the implications of waking the Grand Duchess.”
Carso glanced furtively towards the bedroom and muttered, “I promise it won’t happen again. You know how grueling the Del Casa exams are. The test is right around the corner, and this is an unreasonable demand.”
“Is it impossible? Are you sure you don’t have a solution?” Claude inquired, leaning back and interlacing his fingers.
Carso furrowed his brows and flipped through the papers, examining each red number in an attempt to spot the mistake. However, to his surprise, the formula and the results were perfect.
“Who are you?” Carso blurted out.
Claude stood up, walked to the window, and opened it, taking in the view of Del Casa below. The grand duchy was undergoing immense change and would soon be completely transformed.
Carso’s eyes widened in disbelief as he asked, “Is the solution within the grand duke’s family?”
Claude’s expression was inscrutable, and he remained silent. The wind blew in through the window, carrying with it a sense of uncertainty and the promise of upheaval.
Claude yearned to create his own Del Casa, one that surpassed the legacy of his father. And he knew that Canillia was the key to bringing about the transformation he desired. She was not just a loyal ally, but a mother, father, spouse, and friend all rolled into one. He trusted her implicitly and admired her unwavering conviction in her own principles.
“Carso,” Claude called out to his trusted steward.
“Yes, my lord?”
“You know the responsibilities that come with being the chief steward, don’t you?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Good. Because when I leave this castle, you will have to take charge. So, make sure you’re ready.”
“Who am I catching up to, my lord? I was the head of the Southern Academy,” Carso asked, perplexed.
Claude and Owen exchanged amused glances, and then burst out laughing. Carso looked bewildered, unable to comprehend the source of their merriment.
“Never mind that, Carso,” Claude said, his tone now gentle. “I trust you to handle this task with excellence. Both you and Owen are indispensable to me.”
Carso was taken aback by the unexpected praise, and he bowed his head in gratitude. Owen, too, was moved by the warmth in Claude’s words, which reminded him of his former lord, Duke Maximillian.
As Claude stood by the window, gazing out at the landscape, Owen felt a sense of comfort wash over him. He knew that the future of Del Casa was in good hands with his lord, who embodied the best of his father’s legacy.
“It is an honor, Your Highness the Grand Duke,” Owen said, relieved that he served a lord who was worthy of his loyalty.
*****
The carriage came to a halt in front of the imposing townhouse of the Marquis of Vale, after what felt like an eternity. Kieran stepped out of the carriage unaccompanied, his eyes fixated on the unyieldingly shut door. With most of the household gone to Cosoar, only a few individuals were left. One of them was Betty, a woman in a maid’s uniform, who scurried towards the heavy iron door and opened it with urgency.
Betty had been in charge of all the household duties ever since she arrived in the capital, shortly after the Marquis awarded her a pension. She remained composed upon seeing Kieran, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time, even though her fingertips trembled and her face was worn from hard work.
“How is my mother, Betty?” Kieran asked.
“The crisis has passed, but please… don’t provoke the madam,” Betty replied calmly, though the fatigue in her voice was palpable.
“She’s cruel. She’s only hurting herself,” Kieran said, pulling his hat down and gazing up at the massive townhouse.
He had hesitated for a long time after receiving a letter claiming that his mother had inflicted harm on herself. Kieran had suspected that it might be false, but he could not turn a blind eye to his mother’s claims that her life was in danger. Moved by his plea, the emperor granted his permission to visit the marchioness.
With determination, Kieran strode into the house. Everything was clean, but the atmosphere felt lifeless, as if the house were a dead space. He sought out Betty for guidance.
“Where is my mother?” Kieran asked.
“She is in her bedroom; she just coughed, so please go upstairs,” Betty replied impassively.
“Betty,” Kieran called out as he turned to exit the room. She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Don’t you want to see Lia?” he asked.
“I… don’t think that’s relevant at the moment,” Betty replied, clutching her apron tightly.
“Lia knows what you did,” Kieran said, his voice tinged with accusation.
Instead of answering, Betty lowered her head and turned away, a terrible weariness emanating from her back.
Kieran ascended the stairs cautiously. Upon pushing open the half-closed bedroom door, he found Anastasia, his mother, sitting motionless. She turned her head as he entered the room.
“Self-harm… I heard you did that,” Kieran said, his fists clenched.
Anastasia looked up at her son in disbelief, rising from her seat and kneeling on the floor. Startled, Kieran took a step back. Crystal tears trickled down the sunken eyes of the marchioness, her wrist tightly bandaged. Anastasia crawled towards Kieran, imploring him between sobs.
“I… I was mistaken, Kieran. Please don’t forsake Vale.”
“Get up,” Kieran commanded.
“Kieran, I beg you… Can’t you find mercy in your heart for this poor mother?”
Although tears streamed down her face, Anastasia’s attempts to suppress her sobs were a testament to her noble upbringing.
Kieran cocked his head, unable to avoid noticing the carpet soaked with Anastasia’s tears. His gaze then drifted up to the intricately adorned ceiling.
“What my mother did… those were heinous acts. She tried to kill people, including an innocent child. Yet, someone else bore the punishment for her sin. Tell me, how will you ever make amends for all of that?””You seem flustered, so let’s not dwell on it. Learn from your mistake and pass the exam this time. As a steward, bring your A game. I can’t trust the graduation report that Southern Academy handed me,” Claude spoke with an air of authority.
Carso’s face contorted with a bluish hue, and he stammered, “Your Highness, please believe me! It was just a formula error. I was a little confused.”
“You cannot afford to make mistakes when dealing with taxes. It’s the fruit of Young Ji-min’s labor and toil. Did you try to eat it raw?” Claude retorted.
“I ate it raw!” Carso’s voice raised a notch, and Claude silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Lower your voice. You know the implications of waking the Grand Duchess.”
Carso glanced furtively towards the bedroom and muttered, “I promise it won’t happen again. You know how grueling the del Casa exams are. The test is right around the corner, and this is an unreasonable demand.”
“Is it impossible? Are you sure you don’t have a solution?” Claude inquired, leaning back and interlacing his fingers.
Carso furrowed his brows and flipped through the papers, examining each red number in an attempt to spot the mistake. However, to his surprise, the formula and the results were perfect.
“Who are you? Did you fertilize it overnight? Or not?” Carso blurted out.
Claude stood up, walked to the window, and opened it, taking in the view of Del Casa below. The grand duchy was undergoing immense change and would soon be completely transformed.
Carso’s eyes widened in disbelief as he asked, “Is the solution within the grand duke’s family?”
Claude’s expression was inscrutable, and he remained silent. The wind blew in through the window, carrying with it a sense of uncertainty and the promise of upheaval.
Claude yearned to create his own Del Casa, one that surpassed the legacy of his father. And he knew that Kanilia was the key to bringing about the transformation he desired. She was not just a loyal ally, but a mother, father, spouse, and friend all rolled into one. He trusted her implicitly and admired her unwavering conviction in her own principles.
“Carso,” Claude called out to his trusted steward.
“Yes, my lord?”
“You know the responsibilities that come with being the chief steward, don’t you?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Good. Because when I leave this castle, you will have to take charge. So, make sure you’re ready.”
“Who am I catching up to, my lord? I was the head of the Southern Academy,” Carso asked, perplexed.
Claude and Owen exchanged amused glances, and then burst out laughing. Carso looked bewildered, unable to comprehend the source of their merriment.
“Never mind that, Carso,” Claude said, his tone now gentle. “I trust you to handle this task with excellence. Both you and Owen are indispensable to me.”
Carso was taken aback by the unexpected praise, and he bowed his head in gratitude. Owen, too, was moved by the warmth in Claude’s words, which reminded him of his former lord, Duke Maximilian.
As Claude stood by the window, gazing out at the landscape, Owen felt a sense of comfort wash over him. He knew that the future of Del Casa was in good hands with his lord, who embodied the best of his father’s legacy.
“It is an honor, Your Highness the Grand Duke,” Owen said, relieved that he served a lord who was worthy of his loyalty.
*****
The carriage came to a halt in front of the imposing townhouse of the Marquis of Bale, after what felt like an eternity. Kieran stepped out of the carriage unaccompanied, his eyes fixated on the unyieldingly shut door. With most of the household gone to Kosoar, only a few individuals were left. One of them was Betty, a woman in a maid’s uniform, who scurried towards the heavy iron door and opened it with urgency.
Betty had been in charge of all the household duties ever since she arrived in the capital, shortly after the Marquis awarded her a pension. She remained composed upon seeing Kieran, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time, even though her fingertips trembled and her face was worn from hard work.
“How is my mother, Betty?” Kieran asked.
“The crisis has passed, but please… don’t provoke the madam,” Betty replied calmly, though the fatigue in her voice was palpable.
“She’s cruel. She’s only hurting herself,” Kieran said, pulling his hat down and gazing up at the massive townhouse.
He had hesitated for a long time after receiving a letter claiming that his mother had inflicted harm on herself. Kieran had suspected that it might be false, but he could not turn a blind eye to his mother’s claims that her life was in danger. Moved by his plea, the Emperor granted his permission to visit the Marquis.
With determination, Kieran strode into the house. Everything was clean, but the atmosphere felt lifeless, as if the house were a dead space. He sought out Betty for guidance.
“Where is my mother?” Kieran asked.
“She is in her bedroom; she just coughed, so please go upstairs,” Betty replied impassively.
“Betty,” Kieran called out as he turned to exit the room.
She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Don’t you want to see Leah?” he asked.
“I… don’t think that’s relevant at the moment,” Betty replied, clutching her apron tightly.
“Leah knows what you did,” Kieran said, his voice tinged with accusation.
Instead of answering, Betty lowered her head and turned away, a terrible weariness emanating from her back.
Kieran ascended the stairs cautiously. Upon pushing open the half-closed bedroom door, he found Anastasia, his mother, sitting motionless. She turned her head as he entered the room.
“Self-harm… I heard you did that,” Kieran said, his fists clenched.
Anastasia looked up at her son in disbelief, rising from her seat and kneeling on the floor. Startled, Kieran took a step back.
Crystal tears trickled down the sunken eyes of the Marquis’s mistress, her wrist tightly bandaged. Anastasia crawled towards Kieran, imploring him between sobs.
“I… I was mistaken, Kieran. Please don’t forsake Vale.”
“Get up,” Kieran commanded.
“Kieran, I beg you… Can’t you find mercy in your heart for this poor mother?”
Although tears streamed down her face, Anastasia’s attempts to suppress her sobs were a testament to her noble upbringing.
Kieran cocked his head, unable to avoid noticing the carpet soaked with Anastasia’s tears. His gaze then drifted up to the intricately adorned ceiling.
“What my mother did… those were heinous acts. She tried to kill people, including an innocent child. Yet, someone else bore the punishment for her sin. Tell me, how will you ever make amends for all of that?”