HSYR 31

Chapter 31

There was none of the awkwardness or flutter of newlyweds, none of the distant politeness of strangers, not even anything like camaraderie forged through hardship.

She simply hated Benjamin—hated him to the point of madness.

It seemed Benjamin felt much the same.

Otherwise, there was no way he would have conceived of taking revenge for something as trivial as a single day out by pushing a wife who hadn’t even debuted in society yet straight into social oblivion.

This wasn’t a marriage.

It was outright enmity.

As Wesley cautiously sampled the wine to be served at the banquet alongside Helena, he spoke carefully.

“Milady… are you all right? You don’t need to drink everything, you know…”

“I’m fine. If everything else is a complete mess, shouldn’t the wine at least be decent?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a mess…”

“If this isn’t a mess, then what is? This wine’s good. Put it on the list.”

“Yes, milady.”

Pouring wine liberally into her glass, Helena once again sank into her thoughts.

After doing nothing but wrong, what was he looking at me like that for, eyes all misty?

That day, beneath the sweet, dizzying scent of the fragrant olive tree—

Benjamin had shown her a face she had never known.

Strands of black hair, damp with sweat and fallen out of place, clung to his pale face.
His reddened eyes, trembling crimson pupils—strangely provocative.
And his thick lips, quivering as he drew in heated breaths before finally pressing together in quiet sorrow, conveyed his emotions to her more clearly than any speech ever could.

Benjamin Ishfern had been hurt.

By her words—that she hated him.

“Unbelievable…!”

Had he really thought that after deliberately doing nothing but things worthy of hatred, she’d praise him and coo over him for a job well done?

“I’d like to punch him in the philtrum about ten times until his gums turn to mush, then yank out his front teeth.”

At her muttered monologue, packed with very specific malice, Wesley—who was tidying up the rejected wine bottles a short distance away—flinched.

He rubbed his upper lip unconsciously, gathered the discarded bottles, and quietly retreated.

Left alone, Helena continued sipping her wine.

“This won’t do. If I keep dragging things out, I’ll end up hauled off for murder before I can dig up his secrets and throw him into the abyss. Or at least for assault.”

Even with her head swimming from drink, Helena calmly organized her plan.

1. First, successfully finish the banquet.

2. Dig up Benjamin Ishfern’s secrets.

3. And then abandon Benjamin. Cruelly. Very, very cruelly.

“Haaah…”

Helena let out a long, bubbling sigh.

Secrets… damn secrets…

Truth be told, there was another reason she’d torn the castle apart under the pretense of cleaning.

If Benjamin really was connected to “subversive elements,” there would be evidence somewhere. That evidence was what she needed.

And yet there’s truly nothing. It’s almost impressive.

Having failed to find anything even after searching the entire castle, she would now have to comb through the spaces Benjamin used most thoroughly.

Those spaces were the bedroom she was currently squatting in—and the workshop filled with bizarre statues.

So far, however, all she had found were dozens of socks. All of them inside out, fused into one with dust.

I really should properly search the workshop… Haaah. I seriously don’t want to touch it.

The thought of sneaking around alone among those grotesque monster sculptures made her shiver, even while drunk.

Helena pulled her knees up onto the chair and hugged them tightly.

Is he not coming back again tonight?

Ever since the day she’d told Benjamin she hated him, he hadn’t shown his face at the castle even once.

According to what Aaron had casually passed along, he seemed to be using work at the frontier construction site as an excuse to eat and sleep nearby instead.

“Well… it’s comfortable, at least, since he’s not here.”

Helena muttered as she chewed on the pickled olives Wesley had left behind.

“Not just absent from one place—absent altogether. Ahhh, it’s great. Truly great.”

Except for one thing.

Having lost Benjamin’s solid back—so heavy and reassuring beneath her hand—Helena had recently taken to sleeping with a weighty leather cushion beside her, her hand tucked into it.

But no matter how densely stuffed the cushion was, something felt lacking.

“…Other than that, it’s perfect!”

Helena spat out an olive pit irritably.

But just how long is he planning to keep this up? No matter what, he’ll have to bow his head and come back before the banquet, right? The event’s already going to be a disaster—if the master of the house is missing too…

She drifted into a ridiculous fantasy: serving wine nonstop until every banquet guest passed out drunk.

Anyone still standing at the end—I’d just knock them out with a bottle.

Of course, it was nonsense.

Burying her face against her knees, Helena muttered weakly.

“…Ah, whatever. It’ll work out somehow.”

Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.

Even with only the hired laborers, there wasn’t enough time just to focus on cleaning and repairs on the first floor, so the count’s household had to borrow hands from the nearby villages as well.

Even then, there still weren’t enough people, and they ended up receiving help from the village children too.

“Like this—watch.”

Helena demonstrated how to unravel the threads of a worn-out old piece of cloth, pulling them loose with practiced ease.

Then she hurled the filthy clump of thread with all her strength, letting it snag on a tree branch.

“When you’re done, you just throw it wherever you like!”

The children, who had initially been sitting politely because they were in front of the countess, stared with wide eyes.

Tearing things apart.
Taking them to pieces.
Throwing them away.

It was irresistible to children.

“Aaaaaah!”

Soon, an extraordinary scene unfolded as excited children shrieked and tore at the fabric with glee.

Watching them, Helena laughed brightly.

“That’s it, work hard, you little rascals! When you’re done, you’ll get sweets as a reward.”

The slightly older children were scooping pumpkin flesh out with large wooden ladles.

Helena said to them,

“Dig well. We’ll make sweets from the pumpkins you scoop out.”

The children, their hands stained yellow from pumpkin pulp, shouted in unison,

“Yes, milady!”

They were so adorable that even amid the chaos and busyness, a smile naturally spread across her face.

Looking over the children’s cheeks, flushed red from the cold, Helena smiled contentedly.

I’d love to pinch those chubby cheeks just once… but I’m a countess now. I can’t.

Wesley and Joe, who had been nothing but worried at first, seemed reassured once they heard the banquet’s theme.

At the edge of the banquet hall—now quite clean, save for the chandelier still resting there after the pulley broke—Wesley and Joe scrubbed old silverware vigorously as they chatted.

“Halloween… I never would’ve thought of that.”

“Neither would I. Milady really is amazing.”

Helena had chosen Halloween as the theme of the banquet.

Halloween was a tradition of a long-vanished clan of mages who once lived on this land.

They believed that when the sun’s power weakened in winter, monsters from the underground world crept up to the surface.

So they made lanterns from common pumpkins to light the darkness, and baked human-shaped sweets to offer passersby—hoping the monsters hiding among people would fill their bellies with those instead of eating humans.

Of course, after the gates to the underworld truly opened some four hundred years ago and monsters poured forth for real, it had become little more than a mildly frightening commemorative day.

According to Helena, in the capital people decorated banquet halls in dim light and celebrated Halloween during the harvest season.

She’d declared confidently:

You couldn’t rent a gloomy old castle like this even if you wanted to—because it doesn’t exist. Anyway, this banquet will succeed, no matter what!

As Joe diligently polished the silverware, his gaze remained fixed on Helena’s back.

“How can someone be that incredible…?”

Seeing the rapt look in Joe’s eyes, Wesley clicked his tongue.

“What, kid—has milady become your commander now? That’s disappointing. You used to follow me around everywhere when you were little.”

Recalling his own embarrassing past, Joe shot Wesley a sharp look.

“That was before you evolved into a shaggy bear, Wesley.”

He was referring to Wesley’s appearance back when they were in Goha.

Wesley flinched.

“What? A shaggy bear…? Was I really that bad?”

“Wesley, even when servants are away from work, they still represent the household. You should always keep yourself in order. Just look at my adoptive father—he’s never disheveled for even a moment.”

“Hmmm… Mr. Kurt really is someone worthy of respect.”

“Hehe.”

At the praise for the former head butler, Joe puffed out his chest proudly.