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Chapter : 14
News That Came Knocking
“Th—there’s a burglar! I caught him!”
It was impossible to tell what misunderstanding had started it all, but at least two facts were certain.
The voice of the unidentified man was loud enough to echo throughout the entire mansion, and the young master had only just fallen asleep after spending the whole dawn working on sheet music.
Once she reached that thought, Alperil stopped hesitating and moved. Her small hand shot out with strength that surprised even herself and clamped over his mouth.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected a counterattack like this—his amber eyes wavered and blinked rapidly. Behind their rather ridiculous tableau, thunder rumbled once.
Alperil silently signaled him with her eyes and carefully stepped backward. She hoped that if they left the pitch-dark entrance hall and moved into the slightly brighter main building, the man’s misunderstanding might clear up.
It was confidence born of self-awareness: no matter how one looked at her, she hardly resembled a burglar. As if on cue, a pale shaft of moonlight illuminated her face.
She nodded. Do you understand? I’m weak and small—a woman far removed from the kind of villain you’re imagining. The man, seeming to grasp her meaning, nodded along, his chin bobbing up and down.
With a short sigh, Alperil removed the hand that had been restraining him. Immediately, as if waiting for the moment, another loud voice shook the mansion.
“Your Excellency! An extraordinarily beautiful woman is attempting to threaten me! I can’t even understand why someone so lovely would go around committing burglary—!”
“I’m not a burglar! I explained that already!”
Her incredulous expression finally gave way as she raised her voice as well. Her soprano projection effortlessly seized control of the chaotic atmosphere.
“Y-you can talk… at least you seem to be human!”
“What else would I be? I’m not a burglar or some kind of monster! If you stopped a passerby on the street and asked who looks more suspicious in this situation, everyone would pick you!”
It had been a long time since Alperil had shouted in earnest; her chest rose and fell. The man, his face still confused, dragged out his words.
“Then….”
“I’m from this place… sort of a maid, I suppose… honestly. The floor’s completely soaked.”
“Are you changing the subject?”
Then how else was she supposed to explain it? Alperil, faintly troubled, averted her gaze. The man had dull blond hair streaked here and there with dark brown, hanging past his shoulders.
At first glance, his delicate face—one that might even be mistaken for a well-built woman’s—caught the eye. Then, behind him, several barrels and an enormous sack drew her attention. Noticing her gaze, he defensively pulled his hand back, guarding the goods.
She was momentarily taken aback, but soon continued her explanation.
“I truly am from this place. I’m assisting the young master at the command of Prince Leopold. I’m not sure what you’d even call that role.”
Finding the lingering silence strange, Alperil looked at him again. After a brief pause, when he met her innocent gaze, the man—whose expression had been serious until now—suddenly crumpled.
“The young mas— hah! The, the young….”
The man who had been squinting suspiciously at her just moments ago burst into unrestrained laughter. Leaving Alperil staring wide-eyed, he laughed for quite a while before wiping tears from the corners of his eyes and speaking.
“By the way, not prince—Grand Duke.”
“What?”
“His Highness Leopold Tassilo Shulman Belkthold Heron. He held his coronation ceremony just two days ago. Ah, having both a ‘Highness’ and an ‘Excellency’ under one roof—how confusing.”
“……Does the young master also hold a title?”
Clearly flustered by the honorific now attached to Leopold, Alperil changed the subject. Fortunately, he answered readily, without probing further.
“Well, to put it bluntly, he technically holds a count’s title in name only. It started as a joke to call him that, and the habit stuck.”
Leopold Heron had become Grand Duke—the highest seat one could reach in Triberar without bearing the name Morgenstein. Reassuring herself by recalling Leopold’s sincere intentions, Alperil listened as the man spoke again, glancing at her.
“It doesn’t seem like you’re lying, and I apologize for the misunderstanding. Honestly, given the weather, it wasn’t unreasonable. But—do you usually live in the annex?”
“No. I stay in the room at the far end of the upper floor—”
“Here? With His Excellency? Is that why you covered my mouth earlier?”
Bombarded with questions, Alperil nodded vaguely. At her confirmation, the man seemed to realize something; his constant grin stiffened halfway as he extended a hand toward her.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I’m Triden Lange, a merchant. Every half-month I take care of maintenance for His Excellency’s estate or deliver food supplies.”
“N-nice to meet you. I’m Alperil.”
She deliberately softened the end of her name. She was Alperil. Just Alperil—nothing more.
A serf who once attempts escape loses even his surname forever, vanishing from the world without leaving a trace. Alperil had always felt that truth painfully, vividly—
Sometimes more vividly than the very existence of an empty blank.
Unable to endure the awkward silence, the peculiarly spirited young man cleared his throat. His busy footsteps went in and out several times, each trip dragging along sacks that looked terribly heavy.
“I usually do this alone, so you don’t need to help. Don’t worry about it.”
“But still—wait a moment.”
As she watched him bring in the sacks and barrels, her eyes suddenly narrowed.
“May I open them?”
“Of course. Both the quality and the taste are the finest—you won’t find better anywhere in Triberar.”
A fleeting sense of unease passed through her. Alperil opened one barrel. Her cold-reddened hands moved quickly, checking all four. A sigh escaped her lips as purple liquid sloshed inside.
“Oh dear… this really is wine, not water.”
“It’s exactly as His Excellency wrote on the order form. One of the barrels there contains drinking water.”
With a resigned breath, Alperil approached the sacks next.
A few decent potatoes, hard bread wrapped in paper, small amounts of grain, spices, and seasonings filled about half the sack.
The rest needed no inspection—imported cigars. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, but could I see the order form?”
“That’s no trouble. Feel free to look while I sort these, then return it.”
Displaying the hearty sociability typical of merchants, Triden handed her a crumpled sheet of paper—pen included, conveniently out of habit.
Scriiitch! The two cursive lines at the top were erased in an instant. Beneath the straight black line of ink, now-unrecognizable wine and cigar brands bled together.
“I’m canceling the order.”
“My goodness, what do you think you’re doing?!”
“If there’s a penalty, I’ll pay it. But this is absurd. I already thought it suspicious when you said you renovate the house every half-month! How long has it been since those lightbulbs burned out?”
Her calm reply suddenly swelled with emotion.
One couldn’t possibly neglect someone who so clearly looked far from healthy. In her slightly exaggerated memories, the young master a week ago had been practically at death’s door.
“The bulbs burned out? That fool never says a word—how was I supposed to know?”
“Isn’t noticing things like that your job, even without being told?”
“Do you think His Excellency would tolerate this? That drunkard! He can live without water and bread, but not a single day without alcohol!”
“How rude! The young master is ill—gravely so! These things do nothing for his health, and even if he can’t endure it, I’ll stay by his side to help him!”
“…Couldn’t we leave just one barrel? …Two?”
At that moment, both of them turned sharply around.
Terencio stood there, wearing a coat over loose pajama shirt that revealed relaxed muscles, muttering in a drowsy voice.
“Young master!”
“Your Excellency! When I shouted that there was a burglar, you were nowhere to be seen!”
“Oh? Was today the half-month mark? I thought it was at least three days away.”
Squinting at the pouring moonlight, he suddenly shifted his gaze to Alperil. In a swift motion completely at odds with his sleepy speech, Terencio removed his coat.
The thick gray coat settled over Alperil’s shoulders, where she had been standing in nothing but a thin chemise. She looked up at him in surprise.
But the young master seemed already to have turned his attention away, walking past her. Triden, who hadn’t even realized what had just happened, stared only at the ruined order form.
“Do as she wishes. You know money isn’t something we need to worry about.”
“What nonsense—are you serious?”
Terencio nodded, brow furrowed. Not only Triden but Alperil herself was startled. Looking as though he’d sold his soul to the devil, Triden lowered his voice.
“Are you a nun now? Your Excellency, are you planning to enter a monastery? What on earth happened over the past half-month?”
“Would it be okay to leave one barrel? …Two?”
The young master lightly ignored him and tried to negotiate with her instead. Even in her flustered state, Alperil didn’t forget to raise a single finger in response.
Triden watched the two of them with a deeply puzzled expression, then picked up the fallen pen and began briskly revising the order.
Spreading his arms wide, he carried off the three canceled barrels of wine with astonishing ease. One couldn’t imagine where such strength came from in a man so lean.
Alperil and Terencio stood side by side at the doorway, watching him climb back onto his cart and drive away—after securing a promise that he would return in a week to fix the lightbulbs.
“Then, farewell. Ah, Your Excellency—since I personally won’t suffer a loss, I’ll let it go, but I’ll wager two coins that before the next half-month passes, you’ll regret today’s decision.”
Even the horse, plain as it looked, was no ordinary beast. Its hard hooves soon kicked up the cold snow and vanished like an arrow. He had come like the wind and left like the wind.
“Well, a storm has passed.”
The raging wind and rain that had earlier forced open every window of the mansion had vanished without a trace.
Terencio murmured the words with double meaning. Alperil smiled while looking elsewhere, deeply agreeing with the sentiment. Watching her quietly, Terencio adjusted his expression.
“I suppose the noise woke you.”
“No, it’s fine. Thunder was rumbling anyway.”
“…Ah, um.”
At that moment, Alperil stirred. A newspaper lay where Triden had departed. With her sharp eye, she noticed it and slowly walked over to pick it up.
“Heron’s New Ruler, a Rising Starlight”
It was yesterday’s date, printed on the front page.
Beneath the bold headline was a portrait of Leopold, wearing a bright smile. Feeling a gaze over her shoulder, Alperil lowered the arm holding the paper, regretting her impulsive curiosity.
She wondered what the young master truly thought of his blood relative.
The inferiority of a bastard, the jealousy of an illegitimate child—such rumors were so common in noble society that they barely counted as gossip. Was he just another man like the rest?
Turning back carefully, she found him wearing his usual expression. After the brief squall had passed, outside the mist had thinned unusually, and a gentle drizzle fell.
“Shall we take a walk?”
His voice, like the sound of that rain, echoed softly.
