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Chapter 53
“How is it? Do you like it?”
“W-What did I just hear? Are you saying Patrick is having an affair with Loraz’s Apfels?”
“Since you heard it yourself, why do you need me to confirm it again? Blood really doesn’t lie, does it?”
Like father, like son—both generations turning a blind eye to cheating.
Peter, who had been flailing around embarrassed, proudly pinned the brooch to his chest.
“Anyway, if you can manage to put Patrick in his place, then go ahead. Unless you want to hear the rumors with your own ears when this gets out in the world.”
“Peter Godwin, you bastard! Are you threatening me right now?”
“Yes, yes. No need to shout. I’m still a Godwin, so calm down.”
Peter took out some of the antidote that Piril had made for testing from his pocket.
“Stop drinking useless herbal water and take this instead. If I stay any longer, it’ll only raise your blood pressure, so I’m going out.”
“Don’t be a hypocrite! You’re the same Godwin as me in the end! cough!”
As Peter stepped out, a pillow flew at the back of his head.
“I told you I know.”
Peter bent over and dusted the pillow.
“Master eldest son…”
“I’m fine. You should go to Father.”
Peter pushed the butler with pitying eyes into the duke’s room and then walked down the hallway lost in thought.
He had no intention of denying the fact that the same Godwin blood flowed through his veins.
The proof was that Peter himself, despite feeling guilty over Crown Prince Kendrick’s affair with Killian, had deliberately turned a blind eye, unwilling to break the peace he enjoyed.
Of course, he had no plans to change. He wouldn’t suddenly make a conscience declaration or reveal Kendrick’s death.
So his help to the grand duke couple this time was purely selfish.
It was a dark intention to relieve the debt of guilt he’d been carrying for so long.
“If this situation gets resolved, I don’t have to maintain any ties with the grand duke…”
Still, his gaze kept drifting north because he saw something there he couldn’t ignore.
Thunk.
At a quiet hallway, the pillow in Peter’s hand suddenly burst with a popping sound.
Blue smoke wafted like a heat haze before disappearing—it was magic.
Though unknown to others, Peter knew how to handle magic. And he had clearly seen it—the blue magic that wrapped around the clock tower in Schuten. It was the same flow of magic he wielded.
“What is this? Why was magic there?”
Reading the magic, it seemed someone had made a wish at Schuten’s clock tower…
“Hmm. Regardless of my guilt, I should visit the north again. I’m too curious to leave it alone.”
Scratching his chin, Peter quickly thought up a plan to speed up the supply of antidotes to head north sooner.
He called Nero repeatedly and ran off to the central intelligence agency with his idea.
Meanwhile, Patrick, who had just finished bathing and was walking nearby, spotted the emerald brooch pinned to Peter’s chest and was deeply troubled, though that went without saying.
Ding—.
The clear chime of the clock echoed so loudly it seemed to shake the entire hall. Startled, Litresha threw open the window.
Under the clear sky, the towering clock tower looked majestic.
Realizing the sound came from inside the mansion, she pulled back from the window.
“So the sound came from the grandfather clock.”
Why did she automatically think it was the clock tower in Schuten?
Just as Litresha wondered at her own reflex, a firm hand suddenly reached out from behind.
“Why? Is there something outside?”
“I heard the clock chimes. For a moment, I thought it was coming from that tower.”
“Would a stopped clock tower chime?”
“Exactly. Haha. Why did I think that?”
Kilian pressed down on Litresha’s gently fluttering stray hair as he closed the window.
“Did you hear? They say the epidemic in the capital is nearly under control. Peter Godwin seems to be handling things quite well.”
“Yes. Sir Davis gave me the news this morning.”
It had already been over a month since they started making and supplying the antidote.
Peter, who had boasted about being trustworthy, was indeed fulfilling his role well.
The health of the Telci village people was noticeably improving.
Though they still couldn’t publicly reveal that the epidemic was caused by the Empress Dowager and Patrick due to lack of solid evidence.
Still, the complaints from those who had gone north were noticeably decreasing.
More precisely, while complaints lessened, some positive opinions about the north were emerging.
Probably because after the antidote’s effects became known, Peter subtly hinted that Litresha had discovered the cure.
Moreover… though no one knew exactly how, the fairy tale books read to the children in Telci village secretly became popular in the capital, fueling public sentiment further.
Now that I think about it, it was pretty surprising that Kilian wrote those fairy tales.
Litresha rested her chin in both hands, staring intently at Kilian.
After closing the window, Kilian wrapped a blanket tightly around Litresha and tilted his head.
“Does our lady have something on her mind?”
“It’s still a little surprising.”
“What is?”
“That Kilian writes fairy tales. Ah…! I don’t mean that in a weird way!”
Litresha waved her hands energetically as if afraid of being misunderstood, and Kilian gently took her hand down.
He did it worried her delicate wrist might break.
“I know you didn’t mean it like that. I understand it’s surprising.”
Kilian pointed to his face that looked utterly devoid of interest in life.
“Writing fairy tales with this expression doesn’t quite fit.”
Still, amid his dullness, a fairy tale book was open before him.
Whenever he was asked to rewrite stories, he always held the pen with that same expression and crafted the tale in no time.
All of Kilian’s fairy tales featured a rabbit with pale pink fur. The rewritten stories were about a sick rabbit who goes on an adventure to find a mysterious potion.
Well… he probably never quite lost his cynical nature. Kilian’s tales were strangely realistic and cold for children’s stories.
Anyway, as Litresha had expected, the children in the hut village were completely captivated by the storyteller’s fairy tales, which helped them accept the antidote as if it were the potion in the stories.
“Why do you like fairy tales, Kilian?”
“I don’t like them.”
“Huh? Then why do you write books?”
Litresha’s eyelashes fluttered like butterflies at his unexpected answer.
“I write because you want me to.”
“Um… but this is the first time I ever mentioned fairy tales to you.”
The fairy tale books had already been on the bookshelf when Litresha first came to the north, which didn’t make sense.
“And you liked them, too.”
“Me…? Did I say that?”
She wasn’t particularly fond of fairy tales but didn’t recall talking about them.
The more Litresha talked, the more confused she became.
Then Kilian groaned and dropped his pen.
“Ugh!”
“What’s wrong, Kilian?”
“Nothing. Damn it. Grrk. It’s nothing.”
He bit his lips and pressed hard on a wound on his palm, which twitched like an electric shock now and then.
“Should I call Piril?”
“No need. It’s just a quick sting.”
Kilian, trying to reassure Litresha, stared at the air.
Blue smoke hissed ominously from the wound.
He probably got upset because of what he said earlier—liking fairy tales was something the previous Litresha had done before reincarnation.
He was telling him not to say anything pointless.
“Damn. He’s fierce.”
Kilian numbed the prickling pain and watched Litresha.
Her glassy eyes, like springtime marbles, were full of concern as she carefully examined the scar on Kilian’s palm.
I guess he really can’t see it.
