RTGD 72

Chapter 72

“See, see. What did I say? Didn’t I tell you this would break sooner or later? If only Killian were here to see this!”

Hearing the news, Justin lifted his chin proudly.
He had clearly been holding onto the memory of the other day, when Killian had confidently declared that there was no chance the desk leg would ever break.

“It’s not broken, just cracked.”

But unfortunately, the carpenter showed no intention of siding with Justin.

“Still, if you keep using it like this, the desk could collapse all of a sudden. I recommend leaving it with me for repairs.”

“How long would that take?”

Gorten wiped the sweat that was dripping down his wrinkled forehead with a handkerchief.
His already frail heart had nearly stopped when such a dreadful sound had come out the very moment he touched the desk.

The fact that this was the piece of furniture Litricia was particularly fond of only added to his agitation.

“This was made from a very rare type of wood. Normally, just sourcing the timber would take a month at the very least…”

After estimating this and that, the carpenter’s face brightened, and he pointed to the wooden beams that lined the walls.

“Luckily, we have some leftover wood from installing those beams. With that, it’ll only take a day or two.”

“Really! That’s a relief!”

“It is, isn’t it? Come to think of it, His Grace the Grand Duke must have been very foresighted. How could he have known this would happen and ordered the desk to be made of the same wood as the beams?”

Litricia sensed something strange in the carpenter’s words.

“What do you mean? Are you saying His Grace commissioned this?”

When she reached out and touched one of the beams nearby, the carpenter, unaware of the reason, nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, His Grace ordered it personally. That was during the height of the Kashar War, too.”

“During the war? Why something like this?”

“I don’t know the details… I only got a letter ordering me to make something that would let people find their way without stumbling even in the dark…”

The carpenter darted his eyes nervously and mouthed at Gorten, asking if he had said something wrong.

Gorten gestured back that he didn’t know.

“Did he misspeak? You don’t look well, Lady Litricia.”

“N-no, it’s nothing. Just something I need to think about…”

Litricia asked no more and instead handed the desk over.

“Then I leave it to you. Please make it strong so it doesn’t crack again.”

“Y-yes! I’ll have it back good as new in no time!”

The carpenter, who had been nervous about offending her, quickly carried the desk out with his workers.

Gorten, watching Litricia deep in thought, pulled something from his sleeve.

“Ah, Lady Litricia. I nearly forgot, there’s something for you. Please take it.”

The smooth, peculiar texture immediately told Litricia what it was.

“A teleportation scroll?”

Unlike the Emperor’s scrolls, this one looked plain and ordinary, but there was no mistaking it—it was indeed a teleportation scroll.

“Yes. The Young Duke sent it a few days ago, but you weren’t well, so I couldn’t give it to you sooner.”

Peter Godwin handed her the scroll along with a short letter from Nero.
The letter described things that hadn’t been clear from the documents found in Killian’s office—among them, that Patrick was involved in this affair.

“I knew it…! I thought it was far too unnatural. There’s no way Duke Godwin would suddenly act like that. So it was Patrick after all.”

As Litricia tightened her grip on the scroll, Gorten’s face went pale.

“Lady Litricia! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of using that right now? You’re not planning to go to His Grace, are you?”

Seeing her lips pressed tightly together, Gorten quickly snatched the scroll from her hand.

“Please don’t. As you’ve heard, thanks to the information you gave us earlier, the situation is turning in our favor.”

He was right.

Because Killian had acted quickly, the Empress Dowager had been unable to dig up a single weakness of House Esta.
Naturally, her plan to entangle the Esta family with Killian had also failed to launch.

“At this rate, His Grace will return soon. So please, Lady Litricia, stay here. His Grace would surely prefer you safe in this castle rather than at risk in the capital.”

“But my brother, Duke Godwin, is still accused of assassination.”

“That will be resolved soon as well.”

Sweating from the stubborn look on Litricia’s face, Gorten dabbed his forehead.

“And if you leave too, who will look after the castle? Do you mean to abandon us without a master? The retainers will be left running in circles with unsigned documents.”

“Well…”

This, from the very man who had just been complaining about being buried under paperwork.
Yet without missing a beat, Gorten smoothly changed his tune and even pushed a stack of papers toward Litricia.

The truth was, whenever Killian was away at war, Gorten had often taken care of the family business himself. So even if Litricia left, it wouldn’t be a problem.
But shamelessly, he trapped her here under the guise of responsibility.

And it was no wonder—anyone could see Litricia’s condition had been unstable ever since Killian left.

Just two nights ago, she had been burning with fever, unable to swallow even a spoonful of porridge…

Even recalling it made Gorten shudder.

Protecting his mistress’s health was part of his duty as butler.

Puffing out his chest confidently, Gorten declared:

“His Grace will surely return within a few nights, safe and sound, and resume his duties right here. So please trust me and wait in peace, Lady Litricia!”

But Killian’s return, which Gorten had spoken of with such certainty, was delayed far longer than expected.

Even on the day when his ceremonial attire was ready for fitting, Killian still had not come back from the north.

What’s more, the letters he used to send at least every other day had stopped arriving entirely.

Maybe she really should have used the teleportation scroll back then, no matter what Gorten said.

Gazing gloomily at the splendid dress before her, Litricia’s expression was bleak. Mia, noticing, nudged the tailor’s waist.

The tailor, catching on, quickly spread the dress wide with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Lady Litricia! Just look at this. Doesn’t it seem like it was made just for you?”

Thanks to pressure from both the Grand Duke’s household and Killian, the dress was simple yet anything but plain. The tailor looked quite proud.

Under the chandelier’s light, the lace—like diamond dust—sparkled brilliantly.

“This is my masterpiece! Please, you must try it on!”

She wasn’t in the mood to play dress-up, but pressed by the tailor, Litricia slipped into it.

Soft colors had always suited her, but in the pure white gown, her beauty was so perfect she looked almost unearthly.

So much so that everyone crowded in the room—Marsha, Justin, and the rest—couldn’t help but gasp.

Standing beside the mannequin draped in Killian’s ceremonial attire, she looked like part of a flawless pair.

The tailor, too, was moved by the sight, though he soon frowned and pulled out his measuring tape.

“Perfect as always! Hm, but I’ll need to remeasure the waist.”

He pinned the slightly loose fabric and tilted his head.

“I was sure I measured exactly… Did you lose weight? Wait—what’s this! A stain?”

He let out a shrill cry as he adjusted the seam under her arm.

Right in the middle of the dress he had so painstakingly made was a blotch of red.

“No! I inspected this so many times—when did this get on here?”

Horrified, he frantically tried to clean it off, but as he did, new stains began to appear.

“Where are these coming from? Lady Litricia, could you take the dress off for a moment? Then I can quickly—”

But his words froze in his throat.

The growing stains weren’t dirt at all, but blood, running down from Litricia’s hand.

Like a dam bursting, crimson dripped between the pale fingers she was pressing against her face.

“Ah…”

Litricia tried to say it was nothing, but instead clutched her mouth tighter and bolted for the washroom.

“Ugh!”

Unable to suppress her nausea, she vomited, ears ringing with a high-pitched whine like fireworks exploding.

It was a terribly familiar symptom—one she hadn’t experienced in some time.

“Sir Justin! Quickly, come! Lady Litricia isn’t well!”

“My lady! What’s happening all of a sudden? Piril! Get over here! Examine her! Or at least fetch the medical kit!”

“Sir Justin…”

“Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Do something! No, forget it—I’ll do it myself!”

Justin shoved Piril aside roughly and rummaged through the medical supplies.

But Piril, who had been standing back and watching silently, finally placed a hand on Justin’s shoulder and spoke quietly.

“The dam… has burst.”