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Chapter 9
“Uncle, is that mustache real?”
Taking advantage of everyone’s moment of confusion, Esiel quickly slipped to Vergail’s side. She casually took a seat and spoke, making sure to wear an innocent expression—bright eyes, a “I know nothing” look.
“Of course it’s real—ah, no, Your Grace! This child is….”
Vergail, who had instinctively answered, quickly corrected himself and turned toward Romford. Since he had been told the Duke only had two sons, he couldn’t help but be confused.
Romford said nothing even after Esiel had barged into the reception room and sat down. His slightly dark red eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. A heavy silence filled the room.
This is bad! He’s not saying anything—why is that even scarier?!
While Esiel regretted her reckless actions from earlier, a voice broke the silence.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, acting so recklessly?”
“I-I was just… curious, so I wanted to ask…”
“You seem eager to die.”
Romford’s gaze remained fixed on Esiel. His cold eyes were as piercing as ever.
Esiel’s actions had been reckless—but not entirely thoughtless. She kept glancing at Romford, waiting for the right timing.
From the original story, she knew why Duke Vergail was so influential: he operated under the Emperor’s shadow.
The Emperor, fearful of Romford’s power, had allied himself with Vergail.
To the Emperor, Romford was a double-edged sword—an utterly loyal subject, but one whose overwhelming military power, intelligence, and authority made him dangerous.
So the Emperor had granted Vergail authority, allowing him to fabricate tax evasion ledgers as a way to bring Romford down.
The Duke might even be carrying that ledger right now.
Vergail was suspicious by nature and trusted no one. Important things were likely carried on his person. Esiel quickly ran through her plan. She had to use this situation.
Romford would soon be sent to the battlefield under imperial command. That war would take place near the small kingdom of Anais, and Esiel couldn’t ignore it.
If Anais was destroyed in the war like in the original story, then a tragic ending—death—would become very likely.
Meanwhile, Romford signaled to the maid standing by the door.
“Take her out.”
He was referring to Esiel.
The maid approached and reached for Esiel’s small arm—
“W-wait! What’s this? I want to try that drink!”
Esiel urgently pointed at the tea on the table and spoke to Vergail. Steam still rose faintly from it.
“Eek! It’s hot!”
Everything happened in an instant.
Before anyone could react, the teacup Esiel had grabbed flipped through the air.
The hot tea inside splashed directly onto Vergail’s clothes.
A sharp crash—clatter!—filled the room.
“Gah!”
“Oh dear…”
Vergail’s face turned red and pale in turns. He flailed in confusion, trying to deal with the burning sensation spreading across his jacket.
“U-uncle… I-I’m sorry!”
Esiel panicked, stomping her feet. Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes. The nearby maid calmly began cleaning up the broken teacup.
“No, no…!”
“Uncle, it’s hot! Hot! Take your clothes off quickly!”
Esiel, tears in her round eyes, reached for Vergail’s clothing. She was trying to help him remove his burning jacket.
Romford, seated across from them, simply watched with his chin resting on his hand. He made no move to stop either of them, as if observing something mildly interesting.
“Get—get away!”
“Uncle? Why? I’m sorry, I’ll help you!”
Vergail struggled in pain but still refused to remove the soaked jacket, even pushing Esiel away. His reaction was anything but normal.
“Uncle! Hurry, you’ll get hurt!”
Esiel stubbornly tugged at his clothing. After a long struggle, she finally managed to pull open the collar—
And inside his coat, she spotted a black notebook.
Could this be…?
“Oh no! It looks like your clothes are all soaked!”
Faster than Vergail could react, Esiel snatched the black notebook and tossed it onto the table.
The maid, who had finished cleaning, also joined in helping remove the jacket.
Romford’s gaze fell on the discarded notebook.
He picked it up with his thick fingers. It was a simple black notebook with no markings, as if designed not to attract suspicion.
He opened it and quickly scanned its contents.
What stood out were the excessive monetary figures—far beyond what a duke should be able to handle.
Romford’s cold gaze shifted to Vergail, who was trembling uncontrollably.
“Damn it… damn it….”
Vergail muttered incoherently, clutching his head in despair.
He had only come to confront Romford while passing through—and now everything had fallen apart.
“This is quite an amusing scheme you’ve been running.”
Romford flicked the wet notebook slightly.
“Against the very sun of the Empire.”
“Ugh…”
“I suspected your backing was strong, Duke. Now I’m certain.”
Vergail couldn’t respond. Only broken groans escaped him.
“You’ve essentially tried to use the Emperor as a puppet to control the Empire.”
“……”
“Hmm. You’d better run while you still can.”
Romford stood up. Vergail, shaking, grabbed his clothes back from the maid and stormed out of the room just as he had arrived.
It worked…!
Esiel, standing awkwardly beside the maid, silently celebrated.
This was a major gain. A decisive future advantage.
Just as she was about to smile in relief—
“Now you.”
Romford’s voice cut through the air.
“How did you get here again?”
His eyes, still sharp from moments ago, turned to her.
“You really don’t value your life, wandering around this estate again.”
“I-I was just trying to go to the kitchen and got lost! Haha…”
Esiel forced a bright, innocent expression while shrinking inwardly. She slowly backed away, then suddenly bolted.
Romford’s narrowed eyes followed her disappearing figure.
* * *
The Grand Duke’s bedroom.
Romford sat quietly by the window, staring outside. The faint bluish glow suggested dawn was approaching.
On the table lay a deep red wine and the black notebook taken from Vergail.
Romford took a sip of wine while glancing between the window and the notebook.
Knock knock—
“Come in.”
“You should stop drinking.”
It was the butler, Lente.
Concerned about Romford’s inability to sleep, he had come to check on him.
Romford gestured for him to come closer.
“What do you think?”
He tapped the black notebook lightly.
“It seems like an opportunity… but do you have concerns?”
“……”
Romford remained silent.
Lente continued gently.
“The hostage specifically naming Duke Vergail, and the tea incident… it’s remarkable. Either way, war can now be avoided.”
“……”
“To think it’s all thanks to that child hostage.”
“…Do you think so too?”
Romford’s expression darkened slightly.
He recalled Esiel struggling to remove Vergail’s soaked coat, and the way she had aggressively uncovered the hidden notebook.
And before that—how she had discovered the hidden vault of the family.
Every crucial incident seemed to revolve around her.
Whether it was coincidence or not, her actions were undeniably too precise. Too purposeful.
That was what bothered him.
“Where is that hostage right now?”
