🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 15. Chapter 2. What Is Called Trust (1)
“She’ll probably understand and leave. Well, whatever.”
Aesila thought that lightly. She believed they were still trash who at least tried to maintain the guise of being human.
But she was wrong. It seemed they had even abandoned that pretense of humanity.
Pretending not to understand the eviction order, the carriage of the Artest Count family kept waiting in front of the Duncan estate as if staging a protest. Even after the sunset faded and darkness spread from the horizon.
“Are they still waiting?”
At Aesila’s question, Mitchell gave a short nod. Her diligent lady had been spending a productive day carefully reviewing the ledgers submitted by three trading companies for this year’s third quarter.
Considering her line of work—one where she always felt like she was dying because her superior kept dumping work on her—Aesila Duncan was truly an ideal employer.
If you ignored the most important flaw: she occasionally caused major disasters.
And now, Mitchell, sensing that her lovely lady was about to cause yet another enormous incident, put on her “gentle secretary smile.”
“The reporters have already picked up on it. The conflict between the Artest Count family and the Duncan House is far too attractive a topic for the tabloids to pass up.”
Since Lornel Artest had been neglected in obscurity, there was no way the media would highlight the child’s tragedy. In the Ederca Empire, the very concept of a “illegitimate child” did not exist.
What they would focus on instead was this:
Duncan humiliating a noble of a prestigious house.
“Should we preemptively control the press?”
Aesila reached out, took a cigarette, and placed it between her lips. She lit it and walked toward the window with a bright smile.
“No, leave them.”
“……”
“We need to filter the media too, after all.”
“If this drags on too long, tensions between nobles and the bourgeoisie will intensify.”
Aesila curled her lips into a smile. From her pure white smile, cold indifference overflowed.
“So what?”
The country might fall into chaos… Of course, in that chaos, the lady would remain rich and he would still keep his job.
Long live Duncan’s wealth. Mitchell maintained his secretary smile.
The next morning, the first thing Mitchell did upon waking was rush to the window to check whether the dazzling noble carriage had finally left.
“They still haven’t eaten breakfast?”
At the sight of the still-stationary carriage, she clicked her tongue. As Aesila passed by, she muttered casually:
“Tell that shut-in office rat to let the kid tour the mansion today.”
The young lady would definitely have a seizure the moment she saw the Artest crest on the carriage. Aesila’s order was to keep her from looking outside. Mitchell nodded.
But even Mitchell’s stomach—which had survived countless disasters caused by her employer—could only groan in protest when the newspaper arrived that morning.
[Just How Far Will Duncan’s Arrogance Reach the Heavens!]
A truly sensational headline. In summary, it condemned Duncan for disrespecting nobles:
“Do you think being rich lets you do whatever you want? Show some respect, you filthy rich bastards!”
Isa, who had delivered the paper to Mitchell, smiled with amused eyes. Her middle-aged face was full of unexpected delight.
“I didn’t think there were still fools who would underestimate Duncan’s wealth.”
“……Money does solve everything.”
“Of course it does.”
No, it doesn’t. Money doesn’t solve everything!
Mitchell believed that, but she also knew that Aesila Duncan possessed enough money to make that statement effectively true.
As expected, Aesila chuckled softly while reading the article condemning her.
She was probably already compiling a list of newspapers to destroy.
Contrary to the thoughts swirling in her mind, her lips spoke in a gentle voice.
“How’s the kid doing?”
“She played with the cat this morning.”
“Oh my. That little troublemaker actually behaved for once?”
“The cat is napping now. It seems she went to the study with Mr. Teriet.”
“And the trash outside?”
“They’re still there.”
At that, Aesila spun the cigarette between her fingers. Green smoke curled from the tip.
“And, Lady. His Highness the Crown Prince has contacted you.”
“I was wondering when he’d start nagging.”
Aesila activated a special communication device connected directly to the Crown Prince. She stopped Mitchell from leaving with a glance and tapped her fingers on the desk.
The bird-shaped communicator transmitted only voices clearly. The gold bird turned silver, indicating the connection had been established.
【Aesh.】
A sorrowful voice filled with exhaustion echoed. The heir to the Ederca Empire and its sole crown prince: Riseltain Maximilian Cesare Lu Ederca.
【Aesila Duncan—! Didn’t you promise at the beginning of this year that you wouldn’t cause trouble?! That was my New Year’s wish!】
“Oh dear, how unfair. I’ve been perfectly quiet. It’s just that trash keeps rolling in and polluting my doorstep.”
A crashing sound came from the other side. Mitchell briefly felt sympathy for the future ruler of the empire.
Riseltain’s whining voice shifted suddenly into a cold tone.
【So. Why are you turning away the Artest family?】
“Because I’m a rich woman who does whatever she wants?”
【Well, that’s what the nobles are saying.】
At her joke, Riseltain gave a dry laugh.
He knew Aesila Duncan was the type to live by “money solves everything,” but also someone extremely meticulous who carefully calculated everything to execute her plans.
He understood her too well by now.
Once, she had paid him 3,000 gold to remain silent for 30 minutes. He had thought it was just pocket money—but in that exact time, she had searched the Crown Prince’s palace like a hawk.
She had found a spy from the Kingdom of Fernburg and laughed brightly at his pale face. Worse, it had taken her exactly 28 minutes and 15 seconds.
Riseltain had been left speechless the moment she was ready to explode after 30 minutes.
That sense of helpless exhaustion still lingered…
【So. What’s going on?】
“Do you know there’s an illegitimate child in the Artest Count family?”
Ah, yes. He had heard of one. His fiancée Agnes had once mentioned it while sympathizing with the Count’s wife.
“That child… isn’t Artest’s. She’s Duncan’s.”
【……What?】
“I don’t know whose child she is exactly, but she’s definitely direct Duncan blood. Teriet, my grandfather, and I all agree on that. The problem is, Artest took a Duncan child, abused her, and now dares to make a scene while trying to take her back.”
Mitchell bit her lip to suppress a scream at the revelation. A faint groan came through the communicator.
Aesila smiled, cigarette between her lips. Green smoke drifted from her red lips.
“So, what should I do?”
【Don’t kill them.】
“They’re trash. They should be removed quickly so the smell doesn’t spread. My ears are already hurting from their barking.”
【If you kill them, I’m the one who suffers!】
Riseltain’s frustrated shout echoed.
“Do you know how much tax Duncan pays to Ederca?”
【……】
“Let’s act like it’s worth something, dear Crown Prince. Handle it yourself.”
【That’s not the issue—are you really going to kill them?!】
A silence followed.
Mitchell and Riseltain both waited anxiously.
Then Riseltain sighed and spoke calmly.
【I don’t care if you refuse them. Noble-bourgeois tension was bound to happen sooner or later. In fact, it’s better if it explodes now.】
“……”
【But Aesila Duncan. Only do it to a level I can protect you from. If you kill them, even I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.】
In short: make a mess if you want—but only one that can be cleaned up.
Aesila narrowed her eyes, interpreting the elegant words.
Why are those Artest bastards suddenly acting up? If they were going to ignore the child, they should have left her alone.
The memory of the child trembling in fear of returning surfaced vividly.
Aesila bit the inside of her cheek, trying to suppress the boiling anger.
How dare they abuse a child they took away—and now try to take her back again?
Her crimson eyes flickered with flames.
…No.
This wouldn’t do.
Since the Count seemed determined to keep making a disgraceful scene, it might be better to escalate things properly. Dragging it out would only be exhausting. Aesila Duncan preferred a spectacular explosion.
Yes. Just a simple eviction wasn’t enough.
“A bitchel.”
“Yes, Lady.”
“Throw salt on the trash outside.”
“Pardon?”
【Hey hey, rich troublemaking girl! The Artest family isn’t dead yet!】
Riseltain protested loudly.
Mitchell added cautiously, “Lady, the salt currently stored in the Duncan estate is premium pink rock salt from the Wyre Mountain in the Ekina range. It costs about 200 gold per spoon…”
Aesila didn’t even blink.
“That’s better than being quieter than cheap salt. Do it.”
【The problem isn’t the salt—it’s the throwing part!】
Aesila tilted her head.
“Is that wasteful?”
Mitchell was certain the Crown Prince had just collapsed somewhere on the other end.
Riseltain groaned like a man in despair.
【Money isn’t everything!!】
That was the stupidest thing in the world. Mitchell recalled her own morning thoughts.
Aesila smiled sweetly.
“Of course it is.”
【Who taught you economics?!】
“My grandfather.”
Riseltain groaned again, imagining Reinhard Duncan—the wealthiest man on the continent beyond the Empire.
As his childhood friend continued yelling through the device, Aesila tapped the window and pointed precisely at the Artest carriage with her long, elegant finger.
“So.”
A dangerous smile curved her lips.
“Sprinkle it.”
