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Chapter 21. Part 2: What It Means to Believe (7)
“Watching it unfold was entertaining, but in the end, it was rather pathetic. Well, what can you do?”
“Y-Your Holiness, please…”
“Yes, what can you do? I know very well that incompetence is not a sin.”
“Mercy…”
Wrea smiled.
The corners of her beautiful lips curved upward, forming a seductive smile. It looked gentle, generous, kind, and warm.
But among those who truly knew her, there was not a single person who failed to understand the real meaning behind that smile.
“Yes, Count. The gods are merciful.”
What that peaceful smile truly signified was—
“I shall grant you the peace you so desperately seek.”
Paradoxically, it meant death.
The coachman pulled on the reins, bringing the carriage to a stop. After respectfully opening the door, he offered his hand, and Wrea gracefully stepped down.
Every step she took was as lovely as silver bellflowers blooming softly in spring. Merely existing, the woman seemed capable of gifting dreams to the world.
“I made it look like a suicide, so there’s no need to clean up afterward.”
The Holy Knight Gishu, disguised as the coachman, obediently nodded.
“Understood.”
“Return directly to Count Artes’s estate.”
“Yes. Then what will Your Holiness be doing?”
“It is time to meet a devout believer.”
Elaine Winter, Marchioness Winter and younger sister of the late Duke Rihard, was famous throughout the Ederka Empire for her devotion.
She attended worship before dawn every day and prayed earnestly for the well-being of her only nephew, the young Duke Bertrand. She never missed a single temple festival and donated tens of millions of gold to the temple every year.
Realizing whom Wrea was referring to, Gishu respectfully bowed.
“May the blessings of the gods always be with you.”
“Their blessings are infinite—”
Placing a hand over her chest, Wrea bowed in return.
—May peace and happiness dwell throughout the entire world.
* * *
Bertrand finished off the biscuits with the appetite typical of a growing child.
He had rushed over before dawn after receiving Aisila’s request, and he was starving.
It couldn’t be helped. Aisila had insisted that he come as quickly as possible, and losing one night of sleep was far preferable to listening to his uncle whine about why he had ignored the request.
If you don’t sleep, you won’t grow taller!
He could practically hear his aunt nagging him, but Bertrand merely snorted.
“If I end up short, I’ll send Duncan the bill.”
Muttering indifferently, the boy left the study.
He was halfway down the stairs when a thought suddenly struck him, causing him to stop.
Should I at least check who the Duke family’s guest is before I leave?
His aunt-in-law(?) Aisila Duncan was an incredibly strict and sharp person.
She was like a finely honed blade. As skilled as she was at identifying a person’s strengths and weaknesses, she was equally talented at psychological warfare and probing the depths of someone’s heart.
The fact that Aisila Duncan could wear such an endlessly gentle expression because of this “guest” naturally made him curious.
“I wonder if Uncle would get jealous if he knew.”
Probably.
Hopefully he wouldn’t cry and make a fool of himself.
Bertrand rolled his eyes while mercilessly judging the situation.
Yes.
He was definitely curious now.
More importantly, this guest had accomplished something remarkable.
They had managed to make the lazy Terriot Duncan run.
Even Bertrand, who was quite close with the Duncan family, had never seen Terriot Duncan run before.
If I told Uncle Riseltaine—I mean, His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince—he’d probably faint on the spot.
With that thought, Bertrand turned around and started climbing back up the stairs.
However, after confidently ascending several floors, the boy suddenly stopped and awkwardly ruffled his hair.
Right.
He had forgotten that his sense of direction became absolutely terrible whenever he was inside the Duncan mansion.
And somehow, he forgot that fact every single time.
Which floor did I come from? How many flights of stairs did I go down?
Tilting his head brought no answers.
In the end, he adopted the classic mindset of every hopelessly directionless person:
If I keep walking, eventually I’ll find my way.
So he continued onward.
After wandering around for several minutes—
“Damn you, Duncan…”
Where exactly was he now?
Standing with the calm expression of someone who had achieved enlightenment, Bertrand looked around.
Where else?
Somewhere within one of the countless corridors of the Duncan estate.
Is anyone there? Excuse me, but I believe I have just gotten lost in this damned mansion for the 1,532nd time.
Internally on the verge of tears and outwardly smiling with serene resignation, he scanned the hallway.
Then he noticed a single slipper lying near a window.
Picking it up, he looked around and spotted its partner some distance away, overturned on the floor.
After retrieving the second slipper and matching the pair together, Bertrand searched his memory.
Ah.
It must have belonged to the blonde girl who had run off carrying that mischievous cat.
He should probably return them.
But how?
Bertrand chose to challenge the stairs once more.
The result was becoming trapped in yet another identical-looking corridor.
Should I just go home?
More importantly, how do I get out?
Just as despair was beginning to settle in, a fluffy white tail appeared at the far end of the hallway.
When you’re lost, even that cat starts to look welcome. How strange.
“Ruby.”
Meow.
Why are you calling someone as expensive as me?
From now on, it’ll cost ten gold every time you say my name.
“Where’s the young lady who ran away carrying you?”
What business do you have with my servant?
The cat narrowed its blue eyes suspiciously.
Ignoring that glittering gaze, Bertrand asked the truly important question.
“And how do I get out of here? I’m lost again.”
Serves you right, idiot!
You’re probably the first person who’s gotten lost every single time you’ve visited.
I’ve never seen anyone this pathetic and hopeless.
Ruby snorted and cried loudly.
“Meow!”
Jump out the window. You’ll be outside in no time!
“You try that yourself…”
Bertrand clicked his tongue while perfectly interpreting the cat’s meows.
Every time he saw this troublemaking cat, it seemed to be filled with even more spite and—
“By the way, why are you so fat? Looks like you’ve doubled in size since last time.”
—and gained even more weight.
“MEEEOOW!”
Having already suffered enough teasing from Terriot and Aisila, Ruby refused to tolerate any more.
The cat immediately leapt onto Bertrand’s head and began slapping his face repeatedly with its tail, venting all the frustration it hadn’t been able to take out on that ugly fellow earlier.
That’s right!
You’re way more handsome than that guy from before!
Even I admit you’re handsome!
But is being handsome everything?!
No matter how handsome you are, I shall never cease my tail attacks!
Bertrand sighed as he accurately interpreted the cat’s furious cries.
Why was this cat causing trouble every time he saw it?
What kind of cat smacked a duke’s face with its tail?
He was finally beginning to understand why that eccentric old man, Reinhard Duncan, had included a clause in his will leaving ten percent of his fortune to the cat’s next caretaker.
It had been absolutely necessary.
Because of the constantly swishing tail blocking his vision, Bertrand was forced to stop walking with the cat still perched atop his head.
The tail itself didn’t hurt, but if this cat didn’t lose some weight soon, he felt as though his neck might eventually snap.
Damn it.
“Good heavens, Ruby! What are you doing?!”
Light footsteps came running down the corridor, followed by a youthful voice scolding the cat.
“Meow!”
Ruby immediately protested.
He started it, Servant!
This isn’t my fault!
Unfortunately, the owner of those footsteps seemed incapable of understanding the cat’s language.
Ignoring Ruby’s complaints—which was only natural—she hurriedly began apologizing.
“I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fin—”
“I’m really sorry! I’m so, so sorry! Ruby, apologize right now!”
“Meow!”
You apologize, Servant!
Someone finally lifted the cat away, and the weight pressing down on his head disappeared.
The apologies continued.
As the cloud of white fur vanished, his view opened up, revealing a pair of light green eyes.
Bertrand quietly gazed into those clear eyes.
Her delicate features were lovely, but the thing that captured attention first and foremost was that dazzling pale green color.
A color that seemed to embrace all life blooming in abundance.
A shade reminiscent of newly sprouted spring leaves.
Fresh, pure, vibrant, and bright.
Without realizing it, Bertrand found himself captivated.
They were beautiful eyes.
Eyes that seemed to shine more brilliantly than any jewel in existence.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ronel.”
So this is my ‘guest.’
Recognizing Bertrand, Ronel hurriedly bowed.
“Ah, thank you so much for helping us earlier with Lloyd!”
“It’s quite alright. I simply did what anyone should have done.”
“Um… may I ask who you are?”
“My name is Bertrand Rihard.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Rihard.”
As the girl bowed, beautiful golden hair cascaded downward.
Even Bertrand, who had developed a dislike of yellow because of a certain blonde-haired someone, found himself unable to look away from such a lovely color.
“It’s alright. Just call me Bertrand.”
“Oh, then please call me Ronel as well.”
Bertrand silently watched her before belatedly noticing that she was barefoot.
Seeing her pale feet standing on the soft carpet, he immediately dropped to one knee.
“S-S-Slippers… Thank you for bringing my slippers back.”
This time he looked up.
Even from this angle, her sunlit golden hair remained beautiful.
As he stared a little too openly, the girl hesitated before nervously speaking.
“Um… Bertrand. I’m sorry, but…”
“Yes?”
Ronel’s face turned bright red.
“W-Well… Ruby made such a fuss that your hair is covered in cat fur. I’m sorry.”
“Ah.”
That troublesome cat really needed to stop causing incidents.
Bertrand reached up to straighten his hair.
Hm?
An unfamiliar sensation greeted his fingertips.
Surely this isn’t all cat fur…
Actually, yes, it probably was.
Recalling Ruby’s infamous shedding habits, he silently gave up.
There was no way he could handle this on his own.
“Would you perhaps… help me clean it up?”
“Y-Yes!”
Bertrand lowered his head slightly.
Small, soft hands carefully began picking white strands of fur from his hair.
Naturally, his gaze drifted toward her slender ankles.
He had heard she had been abused.
Already possessing a delicate frame, the girl looked especially thin.
The morning sunlight highlighted her pale ankle bones.
As Bertrand’s eyes traced their outline, he casually shifted his gaze and noticed a second pair of feet nearby.
