ITMDR 01

Chapter 01 …

I am the mistress of the Onueve estate.

Author │ Cheon Uir
Publisher │ RoseN
Submission email │ editor@ridi.com

ⓒ Cheon Uir, 2023

This book is a copyrighted work protected under copyright law. Unauthorized reproduction, copying, or distribution is prohibited. Violations may result in civil and criminal liability.

Although the official cause of death of Count Onueve was a stroke, everyone who knew the circumstances said he had died of anger.

The funeral atmosphere was solemn, yet somewhat noisy. The Countess had not been able to remove the handkerchief from her face for quite some time. She wept so bitterly that her daughter, who was trying to comfort her, had dry eyes as if she could no longer even cry.

The noble ladies invited as guests whispered behind their fans and handkerchiefs.

“He was still in his prime—what a waste. This is why you should never invest blindly in unknown places.”

“I heard it was a scam selling fake mines. There were more than one or two victims.”

“Was the culprit caught?”

“He was already arrested and exiled to a remote island. He won’t be released until he’s an old man with all his teeth gone. But what does that matter now?”

“Yes, and I heard he squandered all the stolen money gambling. A fortune accumulated over generations just vanished in an instant! Of course, there are still the estate and jewels left…”

“But that won’t last long either. I heard there are debts. Quite large ones…”

The ladies who had been chattering shifted their gaze toward the bereaved family.

Just then, the coffin was being buried. The Countess had collapsed onto the ground, crying. Her only daughter was struggling to lift her up.

The only daughter of Count Onueve. Her strawberry-blond hair was beautifully pale, and her milk-tea-colored eyes showed a hint of stubbornness. Even in mourning clothes, her striking beauty made one lady click her tongue.

“That poor Louiseette. With no siblings, she’ll inherit all the debts of the family alone.”

“I heard that young mademoiselle was the most beautiful lady in court. Seeing her fall like this in just a few months… fate is truly unknowable, isn’t it?”

“Still, she’s young and pretty. Even if there are flaws, she might recover by marrying a wealthy husband… oh dear!”

When the coffin was fully covered with earth, the daughter suddenly lifted her head and looked in their direction. The gossiping ladies flinched and fell silent, moving farther away.

Watching them, Louiseette suppressed her anger inwardly.

‘Those hen-like women.’

Who were they to spread rumors about others so freely? And if even a single thing they said was false, who would take responsibility?

But what made it even more infuriating was that everything they said was true.

Her father, Count Godier de Onueve, had met a swindler at a salon one day. Deceived by his sweet words, he invested a huge fortune into a nonexistent mine. He believed gold and silver would pour out once mining began.

But the development was endlessly delayed, and by the time the truth was revealed, the swindler had already gambled away the entire family fortune.

When the man was arrested by the capital guards, even confronting him brought no return of the lost wealth.

So her father borrowed money from everywhere in a desperate attempt to stop the losses. But once a cup tilts and spills, it never returns upright.

Worst of all, until things reached that state, her father had not told his family a single word. Not a single word!

Unaware of anything, Louiseette had eaten luxurious lamb dishes every night and even had new fashionable dresses made.

By the time she learned the truth, the household was already beyond recovery. The bank vault was empty while they maintained the illusion of noble life. One day, when her father finally confessed, it felt as though the ground beneath her had collapsed.

A few days later, her father suddenly died.

Leaving behind one million laurans in debt.

One million… one million!

Even Louiseette, who had never worried about money in her life, understood how enormous that was. She had learned at her girls’ school that one lauran equaled one gold coin.

One million gold coins. Where on earth was she supposed to find such a treasure?

As the ladies said, she had no siblings. The debt belonged entirely to her alone.

By then, Count Onueve had completely disappeared into the earth.

Workers were setting up a gravestone—an expensive one ordered by her mother. Labor cost: five herings in silver coins. The gravestone itself: two laurans. Two laurans for a gravestone, when the debt was one million!

Louiseette suddenly felt dizzy.

Her mother, Catherine, finally took the handkerchief away and buried her face in Louiseette’s shoulder, her sobbing growing louder.

“Louise… Louise… what am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to live without your father… how can I possibly….”

To her mother, the only real problem was that her husband had died.

Louiseette could not even cry. Her throat was filled with grief, but she had no time to indulge it. Mechanically patting her mother’s back, she thought:

How do I repay one million laurans?

How?

As if mocking her future, the sky darkened and began to sprinkle rain.

A spring rain.

Water streamed over the freshly erected gravestone. The engraved inscription, carefully ordered by Catherine, darkened as it was soaked:

“Godier de Onueve, who loved his family, shall have his love carried to heaven.”

Please, Father.

If you truly loved your family, you should have told us about the debt sooner!

Just as Louiseette felt she might finally break into tears, a distant relative approached. She opened an umbrella and placed a comforting arm around Catherine.

“Louise. Leave your mother to me. Go home first.”

Relieved at this unexpected help, Louiseette handed her mother over and slowly walked toward the carriage stop. The black sky pouring rain felt like her future.

As she waited, she noticed a man standing under a tree in the distance.

Curious, she stared at him. Perhaps a relative?

But then he began walking toward her without an umbrella.

She widened her eyes in surprise.

“You are….”

She did not recognize him clearly, yet she felt she had seen him before.

He was tall. Broad shoulders wrapped in a dark uniform. His sharply defined features were strikingly handsome, though she knew he was not a nobleman.

Lowering his pale gray eyes like silver coins, the man spoke.

“So, mademoiselle. Do you know me?”

Surprised by his slightly insolent tone, she replied,

“Sir Stellarius, the Dragon Knight, yes? I saw you once from afar. You earned great military merit in the border region and were personally commended by His Majesty the Emperor.”

Even as she spoke, she felt her words were lacking. His achievements were not merely “great”—they were legendary.

Years ago, war broke out in the northern borderlands. The terrain was so harsh that even infantry struggled to march. The decisive force in that war was the Dragon Knights—soldiers who rode dragons and fired rifles from the sky.

Stellarius had fought in that war, said to have annihilated enemy units alone. One man alone had changed the course of battle. The Emperor himself had invited him to the palace and held a victory banquet in his honor.

Such a war hero—why was he here at a funeral?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know all my father’s acquaintances. Were you close to him?”

“Somewhat. Though I don’t know why you assumed I wouldn’t be. The Onueve family had deep ties with dragons, did they not?”

“Dragons?”

She repeated, then suddenly remembered.

“Oh… I’ve heard the estate in the Hayet region owns a dragon ranch. But I’ve never been there myself, and I heard it’s no longer profitable and has fallen into decline.”

Once, during border conflicts, dragons had been supplied to the military for great profit. But in peacetime, it had become a burden, to the point they considered selling it off.

Perhaps her father had even sold it secretly to cover debts. She bit her lip.

Stellarius studied her quietly, then stepped closer. She instinctively stepped back.

When she had seen him years ago, she had been a fifteen-year-old debutante; he had been barely twenty. He had still seemed youthful then.

But now, though he was said to have left the military, he looked far larger and more solid than she remembered.

“I don’t care about the ranch. I came to see if I might pick up a fragment of the Onueve inheritance.”

His blunt words made her glare.

“What inheritance are you talking about? I was never told there was anything left for you.”

“Perhaps not. But it seems useless to you—and useful to me.”

A flicker of intensity passed through his cold gray eyes. He pressed his hand against the carriage.

“‘The Egg of Fleur’ that Count Onueve took years ago. If the heiress intends to dispose of it, I am willing to pay any price.”

Louiseette stared at him, stunned.

It felt shameless for a man to demand inheritance immediately after her father’s burial.

She almost blurted out that she had no idea what the Egg of Fleur was—but then she recalled something.

In the estate’s drawing room, above the fireplace, there was indeed a dragon egg displayed as an ornament. She had seen it so often she had stopped noticing it. As far as she knew, it was the only valuable egg in the house.

Stellarius smirked slightly.

“I won’t demand an answer now. If you decide, invite me to the inheritance meeting later.”

He bowed mockingly, then continued,

“Ah, and use this to cry properly. It seems everyone is too busy comforting the Countess to pay attention to you.”

He handed her a handkerchief.

That final gesture snapped something inside her.

“Don’t interfere unnecessarily!”

“Ah, what a pity. My plan to mourn your father has failed. If my humble soldier’s condolences are not needed, I’ll take my leave. I live on Cherry Blossom Street—feel free to visit.”

And with that, he disappeared like the wind, leaving the handkerchief behind.

The carriage finally arrived. Embarrassed, she pretended to pick up the fallen handkerchief—but the moment she held it, tears burst out.

“What is with that man… so annoying… acting like he understands everything…”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears, but it only hurt more.

Yes. It wasn’t only her mother who had lost her husband.

She had lost her father too.

And the brilliant Count’s daughter who once shone in high society… no longer existed.

When she returned home, she would no longer be a noble lady.

She would become the ruined daughter of a debt-ridden family.