Chapter 9
From the moment the commotion began, the butler—who had been observing from a distance—hurried to call for the family knights at the Grand Lady’s order.
At the forefront, charging at the sound of chaos, was Jurin Baltos, commander of the Pandion Ducal House’s private knights. He was the son of a vassal family and raised as the duke’s foster-brother. Naturally, his close relationship with the duke meant he was on bad terms with Karia.
If it had been nothing more than simple dislike, it wouldn’t have been any different from how the rest of the household treated her. But Jurin often stationed himself at her door under the pretense of guarding the duke, refusing to let her meet him or even telling her of the duke’s whereabouts—all in a desperate attempt to wedge distance between husband and wife.
On top of that, he rarely lent her knights for outings, so there had been more than a few times when Karia had been forced to go out with only a single inexperienced knight by her side.
When Karia frowned in displeasure at the sight of Baltos, the Grand Lady quickly seized the chance and shouted urgently:
“Sir Baltos, come here at once! And seize this insolent woman—!”
“Stop right there.”
But it was Karia who gave the opposite order. Normally, the knights would have obeyed the Grand Lady. Strangely enough, what they heard—and what froze their bodies—was Karia’s command. They couldn’t explain it themselves, but her sharp, commanding tone made it feel as if their feet were rooted to the ground.
They didn’t realize that what bound them was the sheer force and spirit that radiated from her words.
Amid the obediently frozen knights, it was Jurin Baltos who demanded an explanation for this incomprehensible situation.
“What in the world is going on here?”
“Don’t you see?! This lowborn wench has the audacity to—!”
“The Grand Lady has dared to lay her hands upon the body of a royal. It seems, my lady, that after living so long, you’ve grown weary of life itself.”
Karia’s voice was devoid of emotion, but her words were chillingly cold. Beneath her calm speech lay the deadly implication: Did you really do this because you wish to die?
Had she ever revealed her fury so openly before? As far as Baltos knew, Karia was nothing more than a small, timid creature, a pet stripped of teeth and claws, meek and pitiful to the point of irritating those around her.
But now—what were those eyes? As a man whose instincts were sharp as a beast’s, Jurin Baltos sensed something was gravely amiss.
The Grand Lady, however, was too busy defending herself to notice the change in Karia.
“Royalty? Hah! Royalty, you say! You married my son, so you are now of Pandion. If a mother-in-law disciplines her daughter-in-law a little, what harm is there in that?!”
“Royal status is bestowed from birth, and it outranks any title one may acquire later in life. I never imagined the venerable Grand Lady of Pandion would be ignorant of the most basic imperial etiquette that governs our noble society.”
Her excuse shattered instantly against Karia’s unassailable logic. No matter how exalted the House of Pandion, all noble houses were subjects of the imperial family.
Imperial law stood above all noble law, and royalty, regardless of their secondary titles, had to be respected as such.
“I am His Majesty the Emperor’s niece and His Highness the Archduke’s daughter. I am sixth in the imperial line of succession, and my name is inscribed in the royal lineage. Yet, in this house, everyone behaves as if none of this is known. Why is that?”
In Castaros, direct imperial bloodline extended to fourth-degree relations from the emperor. That meant that if she bore a child, that child too would be a direct royal. Even after the crown prince inherited the throne, she would remain a royal of the direct line.
To insult, or worse, to intentionally wound a royal’s body was a grave crime that warranted immediate arrest—no matter if the perpetrator was a great noble, or even one’s own mother-in-law.
“Commander, escort the Grand Lady back to her chambers and let her rest until she regains her composure. Once she realizes her offense, then we shall speak again.”
Though phrased politely, it was nothing less than an explicit order of confinement. The knights glanced nervously between the duchess and the Grand Lady, unsure which side to choose.
“W-what? What did you just say? You dare—what do you plan to do to the elder of this house?!”
“Commander, would you rather I report the Grand Lady to the Imperial Household and see the imperial knights storm Pandion?”
Karia released the Grand Lady’s wrist with a sharp flick, then deliberately dusted off her hands as if she had touched something filthy.
Meeting the older woman’s eyes directly, she spoke not with raised voice, but in a flat, detached tone:
“Ah, but in that case, at the very least, she would lose her wrist. Is that what you want, Grand Lady?”
The Grand Lady clutched the back of her neck, her blood pressure spiking. Born and raised among nobles, she had never in her life been subjected to such a vicious threat.
Yet Karia held her head high, utterly unbothered. To an outsider, it would be impossible to tell which of the two women was the offender.
“…I will obey.”
In the end, Jurin Baltos raised his hand in Karia’s favor. Perhaps it was the first time since she entered Pandion House that anyone had done so.
The Grand Lady was dragged away by knights holding her arms, groaning dramatically in hopes of guilt-tripping Karia. But she did not retract her order, nor did she spare her any concern.
“Butler.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Karia called to the butler, who had been standing back and watching. He hurried over, bowing deeply.
Years of serving nobles had sharpened his instinct for reading the air. Like the others, he had once dismissed Karia as powerless under the Grand Lady’s thumb. But now, instinct told him he must never do so again.
Karia looked down at him in silence, then said evenly:
“Bring me the household ledgers and the mistress’s records to my chambers immediately.”
“Y-yes? But the household affairs are managed by the Grand Lady—”
“I’ve lived comfortably until now because the wise Grand Lady managed things well enough. But today, I realized I’ve been too complacent. It seems in her old age, she has lost her judgment. So, I will finally do the work that must be done.”
It was shamelessly spoken, as if she had only been too lazy until now. Of course, the butler knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t dare contradict her. He only bowed and acknowledged the order.
As the butler left, Karia slowly turned her gaze upon the servants who had yet to flee.
Some had already run off in fear. Some averted their eyes, pretending ignorance. Some still wore defiant expressions.
Interesting.
Karia committed each and every one of their faces to memory, recalling the many times in the past they had been insolent and disrespectful toward her.
There was something she knew that they did not: every action carried a price.
If you slap another, you must be ready to be slapped in return.
Equivalent exchange was the fundamental principle of the world, the simplest and most absolute truth.
And alchemists were more precise in calculations than anyone. She, the greatest alchemist in history, knew this better than all.
Now it was time to return everything she had received. With interest.
Later, sitting at the mistress’s desk and reading through the ledgers the butler had brought, Karia was unsurprised when the door burst open. She had already heard the furious footsteps approaching from afar.
“Wife!”
“Oh, you’re back already. I saw your carriage arrive from the window, but I was too busy to come greet you.”
“Is that what you have to say right now?!”
Duke of Pandion, Rubidov, stood before her in his outdoor clothes, not even having removed his cloak. He had come straight to her upon returning home.
Normally, it was near impossible to see his face even when she wanted to. Now, he had come so easily.
But instead of rejoicing, Karia merely glanced at him before turning back to the ledger, showing little interest in his fury or even in his presence.
Incensed, Rubidov stomped heavily toward her desk.
“I heard you had knights lock my mother in her chambers. How could you do such a thing to an elder whose health is so frail? Release her at once, at once!”
As expected, he was furious. Burdened already with endless work, he had come home exhausted only to hear his wife had confined his mother. How could he not be outraged?
But instead of cowering, Karia let out a sharp, derisive laugh. Her mocking smile left him momentarily speechless.
“Did you just laugh?”
“You saw it yourself. Why ask?”
Only now did she close the ledger and lift her gaze to him. The cloying stench of perfumes—layered and mixed from one social gathering or another—was nauseating.
“You didn’t issue your command to the knight commander directly, but came to me instead. So you must have heard what happened. Yet rather than worrying about your wife, who was struck by your mother, you pity your mother, comfortably resting in a warm room?”
The reason she laughed was simple: her husband, seeing her face swollen from a slap, had not even shown concern. Instead, he worried for his mother. Pitiful? Who here is truly pitiful?
The most pitiable person in this house was herself—who had endured six years with such a man as her husband.
“I admit that my mother has always had a fiery temper. But she has lived that way her entire life. Do you really expect her to change now? She is your elder—you should just try to understand her.”
“So what you’re saying is that I should go on being beaten for the rest of my life?”
Karia’s sharp retort silenced the duke. He bit his lip and furrowed his brows, wearing an expression of injured grievance, as though she were being unreasonable. But Karia thought otherwise.
