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Chapter 17
At Oscar’s words, Vivian tilted her head slightly.
Even before Amelia had arrived, Vivian had already heard plenty of dreadful rumours about her from the other maids.
That was why yesterday, and again today, she had been trembling with fear and tense beyond measure whenever she thought of facing her.
Yet Lady Amelia, though her tone was curt, didn’t seem as terrible as the rumours claimed.
Could it be that she had another side to her?
Oscar spoke to Vivian.
“Anyway, you’ll have a hard time.
Endure it as best as you can.
Report everything, even the little things that seem unimportant.
His Highness will see that you’re rewarded generously.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Vivian bowed her head obediently for now.
Meanwhile, Vincent had been staring at the rose pinned to Vivian’s apron with a complicated expression.
“Your Highness?”
Only when Oscar called him did Vincent’s gaze finally drift away from the rose and turn to Derrick.
“Report.”
At Vincent’s short command, Derrick immediately answered.
“After leaving the Duke of Wentworth’s residence, before arriving at the Imperial Palace, Her Ladyship visited Laura’s Boutique on Fifth Street in the Midrun District.”
“She went to a boutique?
I heard the luggage she brought yesterday was already enormous, and yet she still purchased more clothes?
In a way, that’s impressive.”
At Oscar’s critical tone, Derrick frowned slightly and tilted his head.
It was true she had bought more clothes, but it hadn’t felt like reckless extravagance as Oscar implied.
Still, with no way to explain it, he simply answered as it was.
“Yes, she did purchase additional clothes.
And just as she was about to leave the shop, she suddenly sat down again and asked the madame to serve her tea.”
“She was about to leave, then ordered tea?”
At Vincent’s question, Derrick confirmed with a nod and continued.
“Yes.
But then, a drunken man suddenly appeared and tried to enter the shop, so I stopped him.”
“A drunken man?
Who was he?”
Oscar asked in disbelief, and Derrick went on.
“He seemed to be the boutique madame’s husband.
He looked dangerous, so I blocked him.
After the husband left, Her Ladyship came out of the boutique. But…”
Derrick hesitated, as though unsure if this was something worth reporting.
“Continue.”
“When I looked back at the table, it seemed she had hardly touched the tea at all.”
“And that was so hard to say?”
“I had the feeling that Lady Amelia had been deliberately stalling for time… Of course, that’s only my personal impression.”
“Well, perhaps she simply didn’t like the taste of the tea.”
Oscar dismissed it lightly, but Vincent said nothing.
Somehow, Derrick’s intuition seemed plausible.
Yet there was no evidence, nor could Vincent explain why he thought so himself, so he let it go.
“Understood.
Until I summon you again, the two of you will return to Lady Amelia’s side.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Yes, sire.”
After Vivian and Derrick left, only Vincent and Oscar remained.
Oscar placed the report he had been holding onto Vincent’s desk.
“Your Highness, do you recall the matter you instructed me to investigate yesterday?”
Vincent glanced between the papers and Oscar, then gave a curt reply.
“That was quick.
Speak.”
“It wasn’t too difficult most of it was already known.
First, the trading company Duke Wentworth established under another name is called ‘Bright.’
And it is indeed suspicious.
The shopfront is decorated convincingly enough, but hardly anyone ever goes in or out.”
“And?”
“The few people who do frequent it are all gambling addicts.”
“Gambling addicts… Then it must have been set up for loan-sharking.”
The moment Vincent heard the words gambling addicts, he deduced the connection.
By Imperial law, nobles could not directly engage in usury.
Typically, a merchant company would handle the lending, while nobles invested in it to share the profits.
“Yes, and most conveniently… You also asked me to investigate the Marquess of Molton’s household, didn’t you?”
“I did.
Are they connected to this company?”
To Vincent’s question, Oscar answered with clear interest.
“Yes.
It’s already well known that the Marchioness of Molton is fond of gambling.
In fact, it’s why her husband rarely permits her to go out.”
“That much I know.”
“But it seems the lady disguises herself as a maid and still sneaks out to gamble.
She deceives even her husband.
Of course, most people already know about it.”
“Has she had dealings with the Bright company?”
Oscar shook his head.
“Not yet.
However, one of the gamblers who frequents Bright is often seen in her company.
It’s likely only a matter of time before contact is made.”
Vincent’s lips curved into a slanted smile.
“So Duke Wentworth has buried himself deep indeed.”
“Yes.
If it became known that a noble was conducting usury against his own peers, society would find it scandalous.
Without Lady Amelia’s mention, we never would have guessed the connection between the two.”
“True enough.”
Vincent let out a sigh and turned to gaze out the window with a troubled expression.
His office and Amelia’s chambers stood across the central courtyard, facing one another.
From her windows, there was no sign of movement.
Breakfast should have been long over was she not in her room?
“Your Highness, might it be best to simply leave things as they are?
After all, the Moltons belong to the noble faction.
If they’re entangled in usury, why should we trouble ourselves to save them?”
In his previous life, Vincent had thought the same and let it be.
Not that he had known all these details then.
And while gambling dens were technically illegal, the Imperial Household had hesitated to intervene because gambling was always tangled up with every manner of sordid dealings.
One wrong move, and it could stir up a hornet’s nest.
But Vincent already knew what would happen if he turned a blind eye.
If he responded passively, Duke Wentworth would seize each of these enterprises one by one, building power until he could threaten both the Imperial family and Vincent himself.
“No.
I won’t save the Moltons.
But I won’t allow Duke Wentworth to profit from it, either.”
At the same time, Vincent decided to impose some degree of restriction on the flourishing gambling houses.
“Ah, I see.
That’s a relief.”
Vincent glanced back at Oscar from the window.
“A relief?
What do you mean?”
“I thought perhaps Your Highness had begun to lower your guard against Duke Wentworth.
After all, you seem to be paying quite a lot of attention to Lady Amelia these days.”
“That’s… for an entirely different reason.”
Vincent ran a dry hand over his face, masking the turmoil within.
For some reason, ever since Amelia had entered the Crown Prince’s Palace, an entire week had passed without Vincent showing himself once.
She thought she knew the reason, yet at the same time, she didn’t.
No doubt, part of it was the confusion of seeing an Amelia so different from the one he remembered.
And though revenge compelled him, it must also have been mentally exhausting to continually face the woman who had once killed him, pretending nothing was amiss.
Still… if he intends to win me over, shouldn’t he at least come?
Is this supposed to be some kind of push-and-pull game?
In truth, it was the same for her.
Facing a man who wanted her dead was never easy.
Yet not seeing him at all left her uneasy in another way unsure of what he was doing.
“…Should I go to him first?
No… there’s no reason to walk straight into the tiger’s den.”
She didn’t know what the crown prince was doing at the moment, but she did know how events would unfold later.
All she had to do was wait.
She sank back into the armchair from which she had begun to rise.
During her days here, she mostly passed the time lying down, reading books, or taking walks when she grew tired of them.
The palace was blessed with many gardens and courtyards, offering countless paths for strolling.
Truth be told, despite her unease, her current life wasn’t bad.
Even though the man who wished her dead lived under the same roof, there was no one here to bully her or pick fights, as there had been in the duke’s household.
That alone made her days peaceful.
If only Vincent weren’t intent on killing me, being Crown Princess wouldn’t be so bad.
I’d even get to enjoy looking at his handsome face.
It had been so long since she had been able to rest like this, with nothing to do.
In her previous life, it had been work, work, and more work until the very end.
She had worked herself to death, quite lit
erally.
It was no wonder she had reincarnated here.
Death from overwork… that must have been it, right?
Did I really die in that world?
