ITPMHFN 42

Chapter 42

It was a box of heavy presence, crafted from fine black wood. Silver letters etched across its surface bore a phrase so metaphysical in nature that even at a glance, it was clear this was no ordinary container.

Vernon carefully placed the box on the table.

A soft click followed as the metal clasp loosened, and the lid opened slowly.

In that instant, the air in the room trembled faintly as a cold energy spread outward—unmistakably the aura of a magic stone.

Inside the box lay unrefined gemstones of deep blue.

The glow spilled into the parlor with a subtle brilliance that instantly drew every gaze toward it.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.
Emil instinctively caught his breath.
Kyle straightened his back, arching his brow as if intrigued.

They were magic stones.

Three of them, each the size of a grown man’s fist. Together, they were worth an astounding 1,500 gold.

Denok reached out and lifted one into his hand.

“This is a top-grade magic stone, mined from Luciano’s vein.”

His voice was low and resolute.

“We’ll conduct a simple test with these. But… there is one condition before we begin.”

The three men turned their doubtful eyes toward him.

“If you wish to participate, each of you must purchase one of these stones—for 1,000 gold apiece.”

“O-One thousand?” Emil stammered, his shoulders stiffening.

Lucien frowned, muttering under his breath that it was an absurd price. And indeed, it was. The average cost of a magic stone hovered around 500 gold. Even if this particular stone came from the famed Luciano mines, asking double was outrageous.

Kyle too wore a curious expression, gazing down at the gem.

“Of course,” Denok continued evenly, “if you do not wish to, you are free to leave. But you will forfeit your chance at the test.”

Their reactions did not sway him. His tone remained calm, almost indifferent.

Emil’s eyes flickered with nervous thought before he spoke hesitantly.

“If… if I pay the 1,000 gold and take part in the test, then what happens?”

Denok returned the stone to the box and spoke slowly.

“The condition of the test is simple. With the magic stone you bought for 1,000 gold, you must resell it to me. The one who extracts the highest price from me… will be appointed my aide.”

His gaze swept across Lucien, Emil, and Kyle one after another.

“The 1,000 gold you paid will not be refunded. But if you succeed in bargaining for a higher price… you will be paid in full.”

“No matter how much it is.”

The final words, murmured in a low voice, seemed to ripple through the air itself.

The three men exchanged wary looks.

It was a trade that began with loss.

And yet, perhaps it was also a chance for fortune beyond measure.

Meanwhile, in a corner of the garden, a small tea party had been prepared.

Beneath a white canopy that swayed in the breeze, a neatly arranged tea set and floral centerpiece welcomed three ladies.

Edith lifted her teacup to moisten her lips before speaking gently.

“You must be weary from your long journey. Please, if there is any discomfort during your stay, do not hesitate to tell me.”

The first to respond was Silien.

Her golden hair was swept into an elegant knot, and her smile was warm, sweet, and graceful.

“The garden is truly beautiful, Your Grace. Had I known, I would have come sooner to admire it.”

But it was only Silien who made the effort to converse. The other two women remained silent.

Chelsea sipped her tea with a calm face, while Monica, disinterested, merely examined her fingernails.

Edith, choosing to answer Silien first, set down her cup.

“Next time, I recommend a morning stroll. The garden at sunrise has an entirely different atmosphere.”

Silien brightened at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. She opened her mouth to add more, but Edith’s attention had already shifted to the quietly composed Chelsea.

“Do you find the tea to your liking?”

Chelsea’s eyes widened in brief surprise, but she quickly regained composure and replied.

“Yes. It doesn’t taste like ordinary black tea… It’s quite good. May I ask what kind it is?”

In truth, Chelsea had never been fond of tea. Born into a poor commoner household, she had never had the luxury of fine blends. Even after meeting Emile, she disliked tea, claiming it tasted like perfumed water.

But the flavor lingering on her tongue now was gentle… with a faintly toasty richness.

Edith watched her intently, smiling softly.

“It’s rooibos. A tea made by drying the leaves of the rooibos tree.”

“Ah.”

Chelsea smiled faintly, intrigued by this small discovery.

Noting her reaction, Edith turned her gaze to Monica.

“Lady Monica, I understand you come from a colder region than ours… Are you not feeling too warm?”

Monica did not raise her eyes. Instead, she tapped the edge of her cup with a finger and replied curtly.

“It’s hot.”

“How dare you address Her Grace in such a tone—!”

“It’s all right, Silien.”

Edith lifted her hand gently to quiet Silien, whose voice had risen in outrage.

Though her tone was calm, the atmosphere sank faintly in response.

Silien froze, falling silent. The maids around them exchanged cautious glances.

Edith turned slightly, directing a look to one of the servants.

“Prepare a cold tea for Lady Monica. Something with lime or mint.”

Edith recalled Kyle’s file. If Monica had indeed come from the frigid northern borderlands, then of course this climate would feel like midsummer to her.

And after traveling nonstop in a cramped carriage, irritability was to be expected.

Though Edith had been raised as a duchess, she carried the memories of another world where status meant nothing and ability alone was weighed.

If Monica—and her husband—could prove valuable to this ducal household, then such trifles did not matter to her.

At Edith’s command, one maid swiftly nodded and departed. Edith returned to her tea, remarking casually:

“In such heat and humidity, one’s body tires easily. Even I find myself short-tempered on hot days.”

Monica glanced up at her.

Her face—beautiful as a black rose—still bore an air of indifference. But the chill in her eyes had softened, if only slightly.

“…You are perceptive.”

“About what?”

Edith smiled lightly, her tone unassuming.

“I am newly married myself, so I often wonder how others live their married lives.”

She set her cup down and let her gaze rest on each of the three women before her.

“Would you be willing to share some advice with a new bride like me?”

Her smile was warm, her tone gentle.

But at her question, tension immediately crossed the three women’s faces.

Ever since the moment they were invited here—not just as wives but as candidates’ wives—they had suspected it might come to this.

Now they knew for certain.

The Duchess’s test had officially begun.