🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 50
“Where could Erne have run off to?”
Fashina was in a euphoric mood lately—happily so. The whereabouts of her thorn-in-the-side, Princess Erne, were unknown, but that didn’t matter. The queen’s death would be dismissed as a rebellion by Marquis Demian and Princess Erne. Even if the missing Erne returned, there was no way she could step foot where Fashina and Derik stood.
‘Stupid Erne. If she values her life, she’d never come back. She never cared much about being a princess anyway.’
If only she would never return at all. Fashina slathered herself in fragrant oil and lowered herself into the hot bath, enjoying the drowsy warmth.
“Ana.”
“Yes, my lady.”
At her call, a young, nervous maid stepped forward and bowed. Since they were the only two in the bath, Fashina lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially.
“You remember what I asked you to do before, right? You’ll take that secret to your grave, yes? If you ever blab about any of it, it’s over for both of us. You understand?”
“Y-yes, I understand.”
Ana bowed even deeper, overwhelmed by fear and anxiety.
Satisfied by the sight, Fashina smiled. She never forgot to regularly remind the maid—who she had ordered to poison the queen’s champagne—of her place.
“But seriously, where is Derik?”
Pouting, Fashina swirled sweet fruit wine in a clear glass.
She understood he was busy, but leaving her alone like this again and again was unacceptable.
“Sir Babylon is said to be personally participating in Marquis Demian’s trial today…”
As Ana cautiously shared what she knew, Fashina’s sharp eyes narrowed.
“Ah, yes. The marquis.”
There was still one more person she hadn’t dealt with yet. Compared to the powerless Erne, who had only been in the royal palace for three months, the marquis was far trickier. Of course, she and Derik had already bribed the royal court, so the verdict would go their way, but…
“Still, better to be certain.”
Fashina stood, the splash of water echoing dully in the steamy bath.
“That medicine I got before—do you think I could get it again?”
At the sly question, Ana stammered, but dutifully replied.
“If we send a message…”
“You know who I mean. That man you introduced me to. Can you meet him again? Tell him I’d like to use that medicine again. I’ll pay whatever it takes. These bourgeois types, they’ll do anything for money, right?”
Ana took a deep breath. Her mistress had a habit of saying dangerous things so casually.
Under Fashina’s unrelenting gaze, Ana finally nodded.
“I’ll try to contact him.”
Only then did Fashina dry herself off, tie on a bathrobe, and smile with satisfaction.
‘She worked under the bourgeois, didn’t she? Useful girl.’
Ana had served in various bourgeois households since she was young. Most notably, she had worked for the powerful “Deorant” family, whose fortunes were rapidly growing from suspicious business dealings.
The man behind the Deorant name was Michael—a man so influential that it cost 20,000 gold just to have a single meal with him.
‘20,000 gold?! That’s enough to cover the Viscount’s estate budget for three months!’
Doing a quick mental calculation, Fashina clicked her tongue. Luckily, she had a shortcut—Ana.
Ana, the orphan raised by Michael himself.
‘What a jackpot. Hahaha.’
Fashina didn’t know the details of Deorant’s business, but she understood it wasn’t entirely legal. Just the fact that he sold her the poison to kill the queen proved that much.
Still, she didn’t care.
She accepted that for those born lowly to rise, money was everything.
What difference was there between those bourgeois clinging to money and herself clinging to noble lineage?
Fashina’s eyes gleamed dangerously.
‘Whatever. As long as it works.’
She left the steamy bathroom and entered the open room beyond, shaking her damp hair. Ana quickly brought her a towel.
“It’d be great if it could be timed with the trial.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll make sure of it.”
A perfect answer—no hesitation.
＊＊＊
She waited anxiously, counting down the days until Marquis Demian’s trial.
Waiting for Winzard, who had left for the royal court early that morning, to return with good news.
“Teacher! I have a present for you!”
“Really? You’re giving this to me?”
Erne spent most of her time with Shuknen lately. He adored her, and she, in turn, was filled with a strange sense of duty, never neglecting his education.
“I drew a picture of us!”
Erne beamed as she wiped Shuknen’s multicolored, paint-stained hands.
“Thank you, Shuknen.”
Watching the heartwarming scene, Belly, standing nearby, finally stepped in.
“It’s time for your medicine.”
“Already?”
“You’re supposed to take it twice a day.”
“Belly, are you my maid or Douglas’s maid? Winzard told you to do that.”
Erne pouted, but Belly was unmoved. She had a surprisingly strict side.
“The duke arranged it for your health. You should respect his concern and take it properly.”
“I know, but…”
“Hey, you.”
Just as Erne hesitated, unable to bring herself to drink the bitter medicine, Shuknen jumped up and planted his hands on his hips.
“She said she doesn’t want to!”
His bold defense made Erne shake with silent laughter.
Touched, though, Erne tried to hold it back. Belly sighed.
“Don’t you want the princess to get better, young master?”
The stern, logical words hit hard. Shuknen had no chance of winning against Belly—she had lived through every kind of hardship. He was only eight.
“B-but… she really doesn’t like it…”
His voice trailed off. He knew the argument wasn’t going his way.
“You don’t want her to be sick, right? Then she has to take it. And princess, you should set a good example. You always say children learn from adults. Be a good role model.”
Erne began to feel a bit embarrassed for whining over medicine in front of the child.
“R-right?”
She and Shuknen glanced at each other, both caught off guard.
Steam still rising, the bitter medicine was presented again. Erne grimaced.
Shuknen stamped his feet, then suddenly shouted:
“Wait!”
“Yes, young master?”
Belly raised a brow, suspicious of what new excuse he might make.
That look alone made Shuknen flinch.
“Uh…”
Despite being scared of Belly, Shuknen couldn’t ignore Erne’s scrunched-up face. But he also couldn’t ask her not to drink it. So, as a child, he came up with a single solution.
“…Candy.”
“What?”
“Give her candy after she takes the medicine.”
A tactic based on personal experience—the best he could offer.
Beside him, Erne clutched her chest, overwhelmed by his adorable logic.
Even Belly was briefly stunned, then nodded.
“You’re very sweet, young master.”
“…And I want one too.”
“Oh? So that’s the real reason?”
“N-no! That’s not why!”
With a chuckle, Belly pulled candies from her apron pocket.
The shiny wrappers glinted in the light, and both Erne and Shuknen’s eyes sparkled.
Erne muttered to herself in disbelief.
‘What is she, Doraemon?!’
＊＊＊
“I declare the defendant not guilty.”
“What?!”
The trial’s result was overturned—naturally. It was only possible because Winzard had poured money into the court like water into a bottomless pot.
Even the powerful Babylon family, acting with royal authority, couldn’t beat the financial might of House Douglas.
Everyone knew the royal family was broke. In the long run, the smart ones would side with real power—money.
Winzard understood that perfectly. True power came from wealth.
Unlike Derik, who was screaming in disbelief, Winzard had a satisfied smile blooming across his face.
‘That’s what you get for thinking you could beat me with money. Tsk.’
Next to the red-faced Derik, a woman tried to calm him.
‘That must be the mistress the princess mentioned.’
Winzard’s eyes darkened. There was no way he could look favorably upon the two who had tormented Erne.
As people filed out of the courtroom and Marquis Demian was released and returned to his residence, Winzard finally stood.
He wanted to rush back and tell Erne the good news.
The thought of her smiling face made his heart flutter.
There was so much to do—her annulment, new engagement, her reinstatement.
He was stepping into the carriage with a light heart…
…when someone stopped him.
“Marquis Demian has collapsed…!”
