TPWSM 29

Chapter 29

Here in Blansk, I am a different person by day and by night.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that my occupations differ between day and night.

After taking up my post as the lord of this territory, I purchased a tavern with a large grain warehouse attached.

The first and second floors of the tavern were set up as spaces where the people of Blansk could freely dance while listening to traditional music.

The grain warehouse served as an emergency stockpile, in case the governor’s office came to confiscate food.

In the basement of the tavern, I set up a pawnshop.

Two or three times a week, I go to the musty-smelling pawnshop to work in the underground financial world.

Here, I lend money to the townspeople at low interest, all while keeping my identity hidden.

At first, only one or two people came discreetly, but now word-of-mouth has made it crowded every time.

Since most of the men died in the war, nine out of ten customers are women.

Blansk women can do anything. Whether it’s construction sites or farming fields, they go wherever needed, work hard, and earn their wages.

Even while working tirelessly to support children and the elderly, each of them has dreams. Some bring sketchbooks because they want to try selling paintings, others bring handkerchiefs meticulously embroidered with flowers, and some bring their special dishes because they want to open a restaurant. They all present business ideas.

I listen to every single one of their stories carefully. Then, I provide startup funds, connect them with suppliers, or introduce workshops where they can work with others.

One day, this cramped, dim basement pawnshop even turned into an audition stage—because someone wanted to become the tavern’s resident singer and asked for just one chance on stage.

It’s the time when I can see the lively townspeople up close.

Above all, it’s a window to hear the public sentiment directly, which I like.

Today too, I am listening to the chatter of customers who have come to borrow money, wearing a black robe and veil.

The topic of conversation these days… is my husband, Grand Duke David Mihail.

“Well, you know, that Grand Duke—they say he’s an incredible handsome man.”

“Handsome? He’s more than that. I saw him hunting myself. Even though his pristine uniform was covered in boar’s blood, it was like… an archangel had descended!”

“No, no. Even the way he threw his spear—he looked like the king of gods summoning lightning!”

Today’s customers were women from farms in the western region.

They started talking about the Grand Duke without my even asking.

Katarina diligently interpreted their words into sign language for me.

Suddenly, I wondered if the townspeople even knew that the Grand Duke’s mother was from Blansk.

[The Grand Duke’s birth mother, concubine Nadia, was from here.]

When Katarina relayed my sign language into speech, the women nodded.

“Yes, madam. She was a recognized beauty from a young age. She sang well, danced well, and was the village’s beloved entertainer,” said one woman who looked to be in her forties.

If Nadia were still alive, she would have been around that age.

“It was a misfortune to have the wrong father. That drunken brute tried to sell a fifteen-year-old girl to a tavern, but she escaped just in time and joined a traveling dance troupe. She left Blansk that way.”

“I heard she became a dancer there, caught the eye of His Majesty the King during a performance in the capital, and though it’s unfortunate she died young… at least the King could rest easier. The country fell, but the youngest son grew up well to inherit the legacy.”

“There’s no need to say more. Perhaps it’s because he has royal blood, but he’s brave and strong. Thinking that the Grand Duke has roots here in Blansk warms my heart.”

With just one boar hunt, the Grand Duke had already captured their hearts.

That his mother was from Blansk seemed to give him extra favor.

No wonder the word spread quickly.

It pleased me that positive public opinion was forming just as I intended.

Yet, other thoughts crept in.

…Nadia really was a tragic woman.

She escaped her father, only to fall into the hands of another man—one obsessed with possessiveness and jealousy.

“Oh, the lord is so lucky. I thought she’d grow old unmarried, but she got a young, handsome husband who’s even good at hunting.”

“Wait, so does that make her the Grand Duchess?”

“Tsk, poor Grand Duke. To marry a woman at twenty-three who has nothing but money. Her family must be enemies to the last. Her mother’s hometown was once reduced to ashes by that explosion.”

The women clicked their tongues one by one.

Katarina wisely stopped interpreting.

These people talk as if I cannot hear them.

I knew it. Eventually, it would reach me as gossip.

Because they hated me.

“There’s no time, so let’s get to the main topic. What have you brought? Talent, business plans—show me quickly.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Katarina interrupted their chatter and stepped forward.

Only then did the women slowly open their bags and take something out.

“Isn’t this lace quite nice? During the war, we stayed temporarily at a convent, and the nuns taught us.”

I took the item. It was a veil made of lace, with tiny daisy patterns that were simple yet cute.

The pattern was a little sparse, but for commoners rather than nobles, it could easily be marketed.

If someone could make this well with only five years of experience, it was enough talent.

[I’ll pay 1,000 Rebles for materials, connect you with a lace workshop in the central market, and if you improve quality through formal weekend lessons, each piece could sell for over 50 Rebles.]

I conveyed my intentions to Katarina in sign language.

The women were overjoyed upon hearing this.

“Thank you, madam! It was our joy to gather on weekends and make these. Since my knees aren’t well, I couldn’t farm properly, but now we can earn money with this—how wonderful!”

“If we weave cravats beautifully and present them as tribute to the lord’s castle, could they reach His Highness the Grand Duke?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful. Since your clothes got ruined during the boar hunt, we’ll make one for each as a token of gratitude!”

Watching the women fuss excitedly, I chuckled. They still only thought of the Grand Duke.

Would the Grand Duke like their gifts?

A cravat of pure white lace would look perfect around his neck. His face is strong-featured, but the closer you look, the more refined it appears.

Since the people of Blansk liked the Grand Duke, he should like the people of Blansk in return.

That way, he would settle down and want to stay longer.

The truth is, the reason I wanted to keep him here for 100 days wasn’t for me, but for the love of Blansk.

At some point, I decided that at least the lands in my hands should be returned to Dvorka.

During the war, greed blinded me into taking this land… but in the first place, I was not worthy to be its master.

Even seeing the Grand Duke, forced into an unwanted marriage, I thought: here, at least, he should live as a real lord, not a puppet.

Loved by the warm and affectionate townspeople who remember his deceased mother.

I will leave eventually. Once I officially inherit the Duchy of Lasant, I won’t have the leisure to look after this land.

So I hope the Grand Duke takes care of it after I leave.

With a territory to call his own, he would no longer be a mere puppet.

The question remains how capable the young, inexperienced Grand Duke is as a lord.

At least he seems to know how to win the favor of his people, so I’ll watch with some hope.

I hope he becomes a good person, at least for these people, not for me.

“Ah, you were having breakfast first?”

When I went down to the dining room for breakfast, I saw the Grand Duke.

He was spreading butter on bread with a knife.

Dressed neatly in a white shirt and navy vest.

The wall clock had just passed six.

So early, and already impeccably composed. Aristocratic, or perhaps royal.

I had only washed my face like a cat, my hair was disheveled, and I was wearing a comfortable dress.

“Ah, Grand Duchess, you’ve come down to eat as well?”

“Ha ha, yes. Let’s eat together.”

We had been living together in the lord’s castle for only four days, and my unguarded state was already revealed.

If I had known, I would have bathed first.

Trying to hide my embarrassment, I roughly tidied my hair with my hands. I rubbed my eyes as if yawning, in case there was sleep crust.

Meanwhile, the chef brought out golden-brown bread, fried eggs, and scored sausages.

Freshly made steaming tomato soup was placed beside them.

I tore some bread and dipped it into the soup, watching the Grand Duke.

“Someone could have just brought breakfast to the room. Why come down to eat in the dining hall?”

I asked, slightly reproachfully. Even as a married couple, we weren’t close, so unplanned encounters were awkward.

“I heard you usually come down for breakfast. And today, I finally see your face.”

“Hmm, I’ve been working late at night, so I’ve been skipping breakfast. But what does it matter whether I come down or you?”

“We agreed to be devoted to each other, didn’t we?”

“…Ah.”

“You seem busy with your domain, and it seems this is the only place where we might meet.”

After saying this, he calmly spooned some tomato soup into his mouth.

Indeed, I hadn’t had proper meals, busy catching up on what the wedding prevented me from doing.

Getting up early to tour the domain, going to the pawnshop at night, returning at dawn.

I thought he was just prickly, but he does have the will to talk to me.

I felt somewhat relieved.

At least he shows minimal courtesy toward our relationship.