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Chapter 15
“What are you talking about…?”
“Are you going to pretend you don’t know? Anyone of Eisenbold’s direct line knows that the House of Dranarbon has been secretly embezzling funds.”
“……”
“You let it slide because the amounts weren’t huge, and because the workload the House of Dranarbon carried on its own was downright murderous. Besides, every investment they proposed yielded good results, so it was tacitly tolerated—almost like an unofficial incentive. If I remember correctly, there was a record of that very conversation between the ancestors of House Dranarbon and House Eisenbold, wasn’t there?”
Unlike Cleora, who tilted her head and smiled brightly, Calipson’s eyes shook violently.
Up until now, the questions about embezzlement had merely been procedural—meant to confirm things.
But Cleora wasn’t probing.
She spoke with absolute certainty.
He didn’t know how she knew, but one thing was clear: letting those facts come to light now would do no good.
“Something like that…”
“You’re not going to say it never happened, are you? I know exactly where that document is. Ah—don’t you know? Shall I tell you?”
“……”
“Ayven Castle—”
“Enough!”
Biting down hard, Calipson forcibly cut her off, then forced a smile as if he had never been angry.
“Well… how about we stop here?”
“How… about… we stop?”
At her dragging tone, deliberately catching his words, Calipson swallowed.
To think the day would come when he’d be at the mercy of a child.
He strained to lift the corners of his mouth.
“H-how… would that… be?”
“Hm—.”
Cleora let out a low hum and casually rested an arm on the table, propping her chin on it.
Her red eyes slowly rolled as they examined Calipson’s face.
The look was indifferent, yet it felt as though she were seeing straight through him. Calipson swallowed again.
“Count Dranarbon.”
“Y-yes… ah, I mean, yes.”
“There was a reason the embezzlement by House Dranarbon was tolerated. But unless you’ve produced truly extraordinary results, behaving as you did seventy years ago in today’s Eisenbold is a grave mistake. Do you understand?”
“I… understand.”
“Of course, with the direct line dead and gone, one might think the key to the underground vault of Ayven Castle disappeared as well. But I can’t stand this disgusting act of playing the role of a loyal retainer devoted to a collapsing House Eisenbold under these circumstances.”
At the restrained anger in her voice, Calipson pressed his lips together.
“From what I can tell, the current head doesn’t even know about the embezzlement. Should I tell him?”
A chill ran down Calipson’s spine. Eisenbold was desperately short on money.
If the embezzlement were exposed now, the fury that would follow was unimaginable.
It wouldn’t be just his life—his family, even his children, would be hard-pressed to survive.
Desperate to avoid that, Calipson bent his knees.
“Please—at least that…! What must I do?”
“What do you mean, what do you do? If you committed a crime, you must be punished.”
“Then my family—”
Cleora smiled faintly, and Calipson’s face went deathly pale.
“People are amusing. They commit crimes knowing full well they’re wrong, then beg for forgiveness when they’re caught. You already know what will happen—do I really need to spell it out?”
“Please…”
“Do you want to live?”
Cleora’s voice, blunt and indifferent, drifted out.
Calipson jerked his head up. As he nodded frantically, the corners of Cleora’s lips lifted.
“Then return every last coin you siphoned off from House Eisenbold over the past seventy years. You can do that, right?”
“That’s…”
“Shall I report it?”
“…I’ll return it, even if it costs me my life.”
“That’s better. And cut off all dealings with the investment channels you used as tools for the embezzlement.”
“But—”
“Count.”
As Calipson hesitated, Cleora’s expression hardened.
“Do you think what I’m saying is a joke?”
The light illuminating the room flickered, and the long shadows stretched across the floor suddenly surged upward.
Startled, Calipson fell backward, but the shadows paid him no mind, flooding the room.
In the pitch-dark chamber, only Cleora’s red eyes gleamed vividly.
“Do I look stupid and careless enough that a few half-hearted apologies and a handful of coins would make this all go away?”
Calipson, who had been trying to maneuver things to his advantage, froze as Cleora’s aura turned murderous.
“Turning your back on your house is betrayal—but exploiting it is treason. You pour money into garbage investments and then say ‘but’? Would you still say that if you watched your children’s heads severed and displayed outside the castle walls?”
“……”
“I’ll give you two days. Bring me every bit of money you’ve siphoned off. If you miss the deadline or hide even a single coin, then before your own head falls, you’ll watch the blood of those dear to you spill across the floor.”
The shadows that had filled the room slowly writhed, then returned to their places.
The most extreme terror he had ever felt.
Was this what it felt like to stare into an abyss deeper than any darkness?
Calipson swallowed, his face drenched in sweat.
“You understand, don’t you, Count?”
“Y-yes… ah, of c-course.”
“If you think I’m lying, feel free to disobey. I trust you know what the price will be.”
Cleora silently watched Calipson as he nodded weakly, then relaxed her expression.
“There’s no need to be that afraid. Just do what I told you. Right?”
“Y-yes.”
“And I’m not that heartless. I value roots and foundations. No matter what you did to your house, I won’t deny that House Dranarbon has supported Eisenbold from the shadows for centuries.”
“……?”
“If you bring back the stolen money properly, something good will come your way too. I promise.”
Was this really the same person who had threatened his family moments ago?
Calipson swallowed hard and tried to nod, but Cleora spoke first.
“So, off you go.”
With a dismissive wave, as if shooing away a fly, Calipson hurriedly rose, bowed deeply, and turned to leave.
Then, recalling something, he cautiously looked back.
“Um…”
“Yes?”
“Just to be sure… today’s events are confidential, right?”
By “today’s events,” he surely didn’t mean the conversation—was he referring to the shadows?
Cleora looked at him with an ambiguous expression, then smiled.
“No, feel free to tell everyone.”
“…What?”
“Everyone will see soon enough anyway.”
The smile slowly faded.
“What happens to those who betray my house.”
“……”
“So consider yourself lucky.”
Her final words rang out, her face cold and rigid.
“If you’d learned later, the head displayed outside the castle would have been yours.”
Click. The door closed.
Eanok, resting in the duke’s private lounge, glanced over at the person who had entered without a word—Reginald.
Seeing Reginald’s half-crumpled, near-dead expression, Eanok tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘I’ll dig up everything there is about that girl!’
After staring at him, Eanok twisted his lips.
“Didn’t go well, I take it.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“That’s enough. I didn’t expect much anyway.”
“Haah—.”
At the deep sigh that sounded like the ground might cave in, Eanok rubbed his cheekbone. What on earth happened to get that reaction? As Eanok looked puzzled, Reginald spoke cautiously.
“She’s stronger than expected. That girl.”
“Why? Still insisting her name is Cleora?”
“If only it were just her name. She really seems to believe she’s the real Cleora.”
With a look of utter exasperation, Reginald recalled the conversation he’d had with her.
“‘Hurry up and ask. I’ll answer anything honestly.’
‘Name? Cleora Bern. Age? I suppose I look about fifteen now? I died at twenty-eight, and about seventy years have passed, so think of me as ninety-eight.’
‘Family? My parents are dead, and the one older brother I had is dead too. I had quite a few relatives, but they betrayed me at the first opportunity, ran off with the property, and now there’s hardly anyone left.’
‘Place of birth? The western part of the Noird Empire—Eisenbold Duchy of Rubendel.’
‘What did I do before coming here? Hmm, nothing but fight Keleagos.’
‘Friends? Not really. I can think of plenty of enemies, though. Want me to call them? Bring a really big piece of paper.’
‘My purpose for coming here? The war’s over, so isn’t it natural to go home? Though actually, wasn’t my real home somewhere else?’
‘Who’s backing me? That’s something you should ask carefully—or torture out of me. Who would answer if you ask so casually?’
‘How many times do I have to say it? I’m Cleora! What? Watch my mouth? You little brat—! How dare you speak to an adult like that!? Back in my day…!’”
How was it that every single word of that conversation was burned into his mind?
Pressing a hand to his throbbing head, Reginald spoke with difficulty.
“…At this point, it might be better to just give up. You can’t reason with her.”
