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Chapter 4
A few months passed.
The daily necessities line launched by the Brücke Merchant Guild became a massive success. The household goods and cleaning supplies—items that had previously sold moderately well—saw their sales soar exponentially simply by changing the packaging.
Daily necessities were essential goods. Since they sold regardless, the existing freeman merchant guilds had paid little mind to product quality. But when the latecomer Brücke Guild prioritized craftsmanship, the results were astounding.
“The wrapping paper can be used immediately as doll clothing! My daughter adores it so much!”
“If you buy it once, it lasts for a very long time.”
“We’re replacing every item in our home with products from the Brücke Guild.”
Enticed by the charming packaging, customers spread the word, catapulting the guild into the top ranks of the Empire in no time.
Afterward, Gerst often brought new items to discuss with Lurutia. The lessons with him were immensely enjoyable, and for the first time, Lurutia felt useful.
However, her happiness was short-lived.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Father…”
“I asked what you are doing, Lurutia!”
Sensing the dangerous shift in the air, Gerst stepped in. “I was reviewing the Brücke Guild’s new products together with Lady Lurutia.”
“Gerst! I wasn’t asking you. I asked that wench!”
Once her bridal lessons began, her father’s physical violence had lessened—a strategic measure to conceal the abuse. Yet, facing her father’s enraged demeanor after so long made her heart hammer wildly against her ribs.
“I… I was just helping improve the guild’s…”
“You useless wench!”
Cutting her off mid-sentence, Gaild raised his hand. Slap! Lurutia’s cheek turned bright red in an instant.
“What did I tell you? Did I not instruct you to merely acquire refined culture until a family willing to take trash like you appeared?”
Knowing that Lurutia would be severely hurt if he backed down now, Gerst could no longer stand by and stepped between them. “My Lord, this is far too harsh. Please stop.”
“Out of my way!”
When Gerst refused to budge, blocking his master to the very end, Gaild—blinded by rage—channeled his magic.
Fwoosh!
A dark, ominous flame struck Gerst’s face. Half of his features melted away in a horrifying instant.
“Arghhh!”
“Gerst!”
Lurutia rushed to the fallen man, but he remained completely motionless.
Someone else died because of me again.
Tears she had suppressed for years finally burst forth. Her mind went blank, and she sobbed uncontrollably, clutching his hand tightly.
Twitch.
He moved within her grip. Realization snapped her back to her senses.
“Father… I beg of you. Please, call a priest!”
Gaild was smiling. He watched the scene with immense satisfaction, as if he had just witnessed a spectacle he had long desired.
For a long time, she was unable to see Gerst, though word reached her that he had survived. A few days later, she was finally allowed to meet him in person.
“Lady Lurutia. Please accept this.”
Gerst’s face was wrapped tightly in bandages across one half of his head. Anxious over his condition, she took the box with a delay. Though it was her very first gift, she felt no joy.
“You said you called a priest… Why haven’t you removed the bandages yet?”
“Even a priest cannot heal the black flames of the Brücke.”
Lurutia’s eyes trembled.
“I am fine, my Lady, so please open it.”
With a feeble nod, Lurutia opened the box.
“Ah…”
It was a comb crafted from crystal so transparent that one could see through it. It looked as though a piece of the starlit sky had been carved out. Overwhelmed by its beauty, an exclamation slipped past her lips.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. It sparkles so brightly.”
Lurutia’s eyes sparkled alongside it. Watching the young lady with a warm, approving gaze, Gerst spoke softly. “That comb once belonged to the late Duchess.”
Lurutia flinched, her hands trembling subtly. She felt as though a murderer like herself had no right to touch such a thing.
It wasn’t a gift for me.
Her fleeting excitement withered instantly. She placed the comb back into the box. “I will place it neatly upon Mother’s grave.”
“That is your comb, my Lady.”
“It was Mother’s. She wouldn’t permit me to use it.”
“The Duchess entrusted it to me specifically to give to you, Lady Lurutia.”
“Mother did?”
“Yes. She handed it to me when she came down to inspect the territory, asking me to present it to you as a gift when you came of age.”
“I am not an adult yet.” There were still eight long years left until her coming-of-age.
“To my eyes, you are fully grown, which is why I am giving it to you now.”
Mother never thought I would be the one to kill her.
That was why she had prepared such a present.
“I will cherish it,” Lurutia offered a bittersweet smile, so that I never forget my sin.
Watching her countenance quietly, Gerst leaned down and whispered softly, “If you ever find yourself in a difficult situation, take that comb and visit the Imperial Bank.”
That was her final meeting with Gerst.
A few days later, Gerst stood trial. His crime was inflicting excessive corporal punishment on the Duke’s daughter under the pretext of lessons. Gaild claimed that he had wept every night thinking of his daughter, maintaining that he had only attacked Gerst to protect her.
The judge took Gaild’s side.
The standard sentence for harming a noble was hanging. However, Gaild claimed he could not bring himself to execute a vassal, settling instead for stripping him of his title and banishing him beyond the Imperial Capital. The crowd was moved by what they perceived as his merciful heart.
Having successfully seized the position of the “prosperous guild master” as intended, Gaild lorded over noble society. To maximize profits, he began cutting corners on raw materials.
The true strength of the Brücke Guild lay in the quality of its goods, not its packaging, but Gaild failed to realize this. It was only natural that the guild began its decline.
By the time Lurutia learned the truth, everything was already over.
Though she was alone once more, fortune granted her several new encounters. Yet, those miraculous bonds never lasted long.
‘Because of you, I lost my life partner. You deserve to be alone just the same!’
Everyone who opened their heart to Lurutia met a tragic end due to Gaild’s interference. As the cycle repeated, every servant in the mansion came to shun her.
Fortunately, her maid Sui remained by her side, but Lurutia could never fully open her heart to her. If they grew too close, her father would surely harm Sui as well.
Suppressing all her feelings and emotions, Lurutia embraced her solitude completely.
Time passed, bringing them to the drawing room of the Brücke Ducal Mansion just one week before her wedding.
Seated across from Gaild, Lurutia kept her head hung low like a sinner.
“Participating in the expedition will require vast provisions. You are to marry Count Hind, who possesses extensive farmland.”
Lurutia read the marriage registration document handed to her by Gaild. Her prospective groom was Count Hind, a man with massive agricultural holdings.
Unlike Lurutia, who had barely reached adulthood, Count Hind was in his late forties. While the conditions were not terrible on paper, the age gap was far too vast.
As if the matter was already decided, Gaild gave her a unilateral notice without bothering to ask for her input. “The wedding preparations are complete. The ceremony will take place in a few days.”
She had known this day would come eventually. She had accepted that she would become the wife of a man she did not desire, but a man old enough to be her father was simply too much.
“Father… Count Hind’s age is far too…”
Gaild cut her off sharply, showing no interest in listening. “He is roughly thirty years older than you. What exactly is the problem with that?”
Seated opposite him, Lurutia clutched her skirt tightly.
If she accepted this marriage, she was certain to meet her end in excruciating agony. It was not merely because she would be marrying an elderly Count.
Ever since the distant days of her childhood spent undergoing experiments, she had frequently experienced strange dreams whenever the testing concluded.
In an unfamiliar room lined with hanging glass bottles filled with liquids, Lurutia lay on a white bed, reading a book. Because she dreamed the exact same dream repeatedly, the memories became vivid, and she eventually realized it was a vision of her past life.
In that past life, she had been terminally ill, just as she was now. Waiting only for the day she would die, the final book she had chosen to read was a romance novel.
It was a story of love between a prince and a maid set amidst the whirlpool of imperial succession. Lurutia had appeared in those pages as well. Though she was merely an extra mentioned in a few brief lines, she remembered it clearly because the character shared her exact name.
‘What? She dies when she turns twenty?’
Gaild had married Lurutia off while concealing her reduced lifespan. Upon discovering the truth, Count Hind had been consumed by rage.
‘Only two years left?! Can she even bear a child in that time?!’
Fuming that he had been defrauded, Count Hind later sent a bottle of wine as a phony gesture of apology.
Upon drinking that gifted wine, Lurutia vomited blood.
Overwhelmed by a horrific, searing pain in her internal organs, she had clawed violently at the floor until her fingernails tore off completely. She died writhing in long, agonizing torment due to the poisoned wine crafted specifically to torment a spiteful adversary.
To think that dying a death more gruesome and excruciating than anyone else in the story was her dictated future.
Until now, she had obeyed her father, believing it to be her punishment for killing her mother.
I don’t want to endure it anymore.
If she remained silent as she always had, she would surely live to regret it bitterly.
Lurutia summoned every ounce of her strength. It felt as though her past self—the girl once confined to a hospital bed—was pushing her forward from behind.
“I don’t want to marry Count Hind.”
“What? What did you just say, Lurutia? I must have misheard you.”
“Father! I have only just become an adult. Count Hind is far too old, and I refuse to marry him!”
“Born into the Brücke family, you cannot even wield a single spell properly—you are trash! You are a wench worth less than the farmland Count Hind holds!”
“I… I know.”
“After feeding and raising an utterly useless creature like you all this time, you dare defy your father?!”
“I am grateful that you raised me. However, I wish to choose my husband myself.”
“Lurutia!”
Slam!
Gaild struck the desk forcefully as he stood up. Though Lurutia flinched and pulled her shoulders tight in fear, she did not stop speaking.
“If I must marry Count Hind, I would rather leave the family altogether. Diord will inherit the house anyway.”
Gaild’s expression turned as fierce as a wild beast.
Yet having finally spoken her mind, she felt no regret.
I’m going to die even if I marry him, aren’t I?
If death was inevitable, she preferred to close her eyes in peace, surrounded by the things she truly loved.
