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Chapter 16
“Is it really that bad?”
“Yes. To be honest, even if that child really were Cleora, I think it’d be better to pretend we don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Why, you ask?”
Reginald looked aggrieved at Eanok, who asked so calmly.
“The Cleora Bern we’ve grown up reading and hearing about was never like that! The very essence of the Eisenbold family, hailed as the strongest among all past heads of the house. A noble and virtuous knight. A commander who took the vanguard in a war that promised nothing to gain, and tore through the battlefield for twelve long years!”
“Hm—.”
“Lady Cleora is counted among the top three greatest figures of the Empire, isn’t she? Does it make any sense that someone so extraordinary would have such an eccentric personality and such crude, uneducated speech?”
Reginald’s words all sounded perfectly reasonable.
After all, Cleora’s reputation was so towering that, in the history of the Noyrad Empire, there was said to be no one comparable to her except the founding emperor himself.
Eanok knew that too, so he listened in silence, then slowly tilted his head.
“Why not?”
“…What?”
“As you said, there are countless epics and stories about Cleora Bern, but nowhere do they describe her personality.”
“Well, that’s—”
“There are plenty of accounts of her being a cool-headed commander who never panicked or wavered under any circumstances, but can we really be certain that carried over into her personality as well?”
“……”
Now that he thought about it, that was true.
Reginald, who had been speaking heatedly, faltered.
Still unwilling to give up, he let out a strained sigh.
“But people imagine things, don’t they? What kind of person Cleora must have been. There may be no single right answer, but in none of those imaginings did she ever look like that.”
“Sometimes reality feels more false than imagination.”
Eanok murmured the words and rose from his seat. As he stood, Reginald, eyebrows raised, asked, “Where are you going?”
“I summoned Calypson to discuss the financial situation. He should be here soon, so I ought to return to my office.”
“Oh, about that—I met the viscount before coming here. But before I could even ask, he told me not to worry about funds for the time being.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t understand either, so I asked again, but he just said not to worry and that he’d take care of everything himself. I told him I understood, but… ah, come to think of it, the viscount was acting a bit strange.”
Eanok, who had been about to head back to his office, turned around. With a slight frown, he tilted his chin as if to ask what he meant.
“Well… it was clearly because of that strange woman… haah.”
Reginald trailed off, then corrected himself shortly.
“Cleora.”
Real or not, if her name was Cleora, there wasn’t much more to say.
Running a hand through his hair, Reginald spoke cautiously.
“It looked like he’d spoken with her about something. When I asked what was going on, his face went pale. Then he suddenly snapped at me, telling me not to concern myself. When I said the girl seemed suspicious, he shouted at me not to doubt her authenticity.”
“…Her?”
Everyone knew Calypson—the man handling the finances of a ducal house on the brink of bankruptcy—had a prickly personality.
On top of that, he was infamous for never trusting others easily.
The kind of man who would cut someone off immediately at the slightest hint of suspicion.
And yet that man had defended Cleora—the most suspicious person in the castle at present.
Worse still, he had done so using honorifics.
“Don’t tell me… he actually believes she’s the real Cleora?”
“Ridiculous.”
Recalling Calypson’s personality, Eanok shook his head.
Even so, he couldn’t understand why Calypson had suddenly taken such an attitude.
It was a reaction that could only come from someone who truly believed she was Cleora.
“For now, we’ll observe.”
“Yes. Ah, and speaking of which—the mercenary who brought Cleora here. It seems that mercenary company has recently settled in this area.”
Eanok frowned as he recalled the middle-aged woman who had brought Cleora.
“I think they said she was the captain of an A-rank mercenary company. Why here?”
“I’m not sure. There’s no real mercenary work around here, so I’ve ordered an investigation for now.”
An A-rank mercenary company wasn’t just about quality—the numbers mattered too.
They needed at least fifty mercenaries, and among them, at least five first-rate ones.
A company possessing five first-rate mercenaries—each with skill on par with knights—was exceedingly rare.
Even if you scoured the Empire, there were fewer than twenty such companies.
Why would one come to a place as barren as this?
Thinking there might be some connection between the mercenary company and Cleora, Eanok turned on his heel.
“It’ll be faster to ask directly. Where is Cleora?”
“Probably in the infirmary.”
“Why there? Is she injured?”
“Well….”
Reginald hesitated briefly, then let out a small sigh.
With a look of complete resignation, his voice followed.
“Cleora beat Isaac unconscious.”
“…….”
The utterly unexpected answer left even Eanok momentarily speechless.
“…What a mess.”
Swallowing a curse he hadn’t uttered in a long time, Eanok squeezed his eyes shut.
“……”
Cleora stared silently at Isaac lying on the bed.
The young heir of the Kurtzfel family, his youthful yet handsome features standing out.
An ill-fated bond stretching from the past into the present.
Sighing at this wretched connection, Cleora was also struck by how long seventy years truly were.
What on earth happened to Kurtzfel over those seventy years?
She pondered the question in deadly earnest.
When Isaac—who had once staggered away after taking a punch from her—reappeared, Cleora had braced herself.
Even if he’d fled in shock before, she expected him to seek revenge when they met again. But then…
“Hit me. Just once.”
Hearing those words the moment they met, even Cleora herself was taken aback.
Seventy years could change the world and reshape mountains and rivers—but who could have imagined that in Kurtzfel, which she’d thought would never change, a pervert would appear? And not just any pervert, but a full-blown, hardcore one?
The statement was so shocking that not only Cleora, who heard it firsthand, but even the passing servants froze in place.
The only person who seemed unfazed—aside from Isaac himself—was the black-haired man who looked like his friend.
Puhaha! Rolling on the floor in laughter.
Thinking Isaac was mocking and humiliating her, Cleora struck him with all her strength.
Her physical strength wasn’t what it once was, but she knew exactly where and how to hit to make it hurt.
Isaac took Cleora’s furious punches with enthusiasm, and in the end toppled backward and lost consciousness.
“No matter how I think about it, that’s impressive.”
Narrowing her eyes as she recalled Isaac collapsing to the floor, Cleora muttered,
“Getting beaten like that, and still staring at me without changing your expression?”
Letting out a slow breath as she rubbed her chin, she drew it back slightly.
“There’s no doubt he’s a remarkable pervert.”
She clicked her tongue quietly.
At that moment, the door opened and the black-haired man—Demilton—appeared.
“Huh? He’s still out?”
“……”
“Wow, he must’ve hit the floor hard to be unconscious for an hour. Was it really that good?”
Demilton sauntered over, pulled a chair next to Cleora, and plopped down.
Cleora’s gaze, which had been fixed on him in silence, slowly dropped straight down to follow his movement.
Demilton, arms crossed, stared at Isaac, then casually turned his head.
Their eyes met head-on. Demilton grinned.
“Hi.”
“…?”
“Looks like I’m older, so it’s fine if I speak casually, right?”
As Cleora clicked her tongue at his boldness in immediately using informal speech, Demilton rolled his eyes, inspecting her from head to toe.
“So this is his type, huh?”
“What are you doing?”
“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just curious, so I’m having a look.”
Cleora scowled deeply at Demilton, who had so casually confessed to checking her out.
“Oh, right, I haven’t introduced myself. Call me Demilton. I’m eighteen, but once I have my coming-of-age ceremony next month, I’ll be nineteen—so feel free to call me oppa.”
“…W–what did you just say?”
“If that’s awkward, older brother works too. More importantly—how did you do it?”
Truly, his insolence was unwavering.
Cleora tilted her head, staring wordlessly at Demilton, who continued talking at her without waiting for an answer.
