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A few days later.
Marie visited the residence of Viscount Brian with her interior design sketches in hand.
“The Viscountess is in the nursery.”
“Please, take me to her.”
She followed the butler’s lead toward the nursery.
But then, faint sobbing was heard from somewhere.
“…?”
Upon entering, she found the room empty—except for the Viscountess, who sat collapsed and weeping quietly.
The butler looked awkward, gave a silent bow, and left them alone.
“Sob… sob…”
“Madam?”
“Lady Whitehouse…?”
The Viscountess’s face was soaked in tears.
She was startled to see Marie but quickly dissolved back into weeping.
“…There’s nothing left. Nothing of Sean’s remains—not a single thing!”
“Madam, are you alright?”
“I was scared that keeping Sean’s belongings would bring misfortune to our second child. I was afraid my depression would return.”
“…”
“But I was wrong. Sean would never wish misfortune on his sibling. He would’ve cherished a younger brother or sister more than anyone.”
“…Yes. I believe he would have.”
Tears streamed endlessly down the grieving mother’s face.
Just watching her made Marie feel like crying too.
“Getting rid of his things didn’t make me feel better. It’s worse. Now that they’re gone, I can’t bear it. My depression is coming back. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the tears. Sob sob sob!”
“Madam! Are you okay? Does the Viscount know you’re feeling this way?”
“I can’t tell him. He said if I ever act like this again, he’ll divorce me. Now I might lose my second child and my husband! Waaaah!”
“My goodness…”
For a noblewoman to show this much vulnerability to someone she wasn’t even close with—she must truly be in distress.
Marie gently closed the door so the servants wouldn’t see her in this state.
“Please calm down, madam.”
“How could I, as a mother, try to forget my child? Now Sean will be forgotten by everyone.”
“Surely not. Please don’t think that way, madam.”
“Sean must be so hurt! How could a cruel mother like me possibly raise another child well?”
“Madam! Of course you can. You absolutely can. Once the baby is born, you’ll feel better. Don’t worry too much.”
“No! I was wrong! I’ve lost him forever now! Waaah!”
She clutched her head, swaying as if dizzy.
“Madam, it hasn’t been long since the items were thrown away. Isn’t there still a chance to recover them?”
“Sob sob sob… The butler won’t tell me where he threw them. I think my husband told him to keep quiet.”
“Oh no.”
“And if I try to retrieve them, my husband will find out. Then he’ll know my depression is back!”
The Viscountess collapsed to the floor, burying her face in her hands.
Consumed by grief and fear, she couldn’t control her emotions.
Marie sat down beside her.
“It’s not something to worry about that much. What kind of husband divorces his wife for being ill? He should support you.”
“That’s not how it is. When I left for the villa, he had already prepared everything to divorce me. He even collected evidence to use against me. He clearly told me—if I ever return to how I was before, he’ll really go through with it.”
“Oh…”
“Having this child barely mended our relationship. My husband is kind at times, but when he’s angry… he’s terrifying. What should I do now?”
All Marie could do was gently pat the woman’s back.
There was no way she could show her the interior sketches under these circumstances.
‘There’s no way she’d care about wallpaper and flooring right now…’
Just then, Mildred—who had accompanied Marie—approached.
“Lady Marianne, could I speak with you for a moment?”
“What is it?”
“Well…”
Mildred leaned in to whisper in Marie’s ear.
“Mildred, are you sure about that?”
“Yes. I definitely heard it.”
“…Alright. Got it.”
Marie patted Mildred’s shoulder and returned to the Viscountess.
“Madam, if we were able to recover even a few of Sean’s things… do you think that might help you feel a little better?”
“No. I told you, we can’t. I can’t ask my husband.”
“Then I’ll try. You never know until you look. It’s too early to give up.”
“Why would you…? You’re here to work on the nursery design. Why go that far?”
The Viscountess looked at her through teary eyes, confused.
Marie gave an awkward smile.
“Interior design isn’t just about picking wallpaper and flooring.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s about creating a space where the people living in it can feel happy and comfortable. If Sean’s belongings would bring you peace, then they should absolutely be part of this room.”
“…”
The Viscountess stared at her in astonishment.
Then her face darkened again.
“But even if we find them… what if my husband finds out?”
“No use worrying about that just yet. Let’s cross that bridge if and when we recover something of Sean’s.”
“…Alright. Could you try to find them? Please.”
The Viscountess’s face brightened visibly.
Even though they hadn’t found anything yet.
“I’ll contact you if we find something. For now, would you mind looking over the design I brought?”
“No, no. You decide everything.”
“But…”
“I’ll leave it all to your judgment. I doubt I could concentrate on it right now anyway.”
“…Understood. I’ll take care of it.”
—
Ranid Slums
Marie arrived near 9 p.m.—it was far from the capital.
“Are we in the right place?”
It was hard to see in the dark.
The stench of waste and the poorly lit streets gave off a sense of poverty and unease.
“Well…”
Dwayne, who was guiding them, looked uncomfortable.
He glanced around nervously, clearly lost.
“I… don’t really know…”
Mildred scolded him.
“Dwayne, you were supposed to check the directions first! How can you bring Lady Marianne somewhere dangerous like this?”
“S-sorry…”
The streets were nearly deserted—everyone seemed to be inside.
Only one building was brightly lit: a shabby tavern reeking of cheap alcohol.
Music blared from inside.
“I’ll… go ask inside…”
“Alright, Dwayne. Thank you.”
Dwayne walked awkwardly into the tavern.
Marie turned to Mildred.
“Mildred, are you sure about what you said at the Viscount’s house?”
“Yes, Lady Marianne. I clearly heard the Viscount mention Father Thomas when he told the butler to dispose of the items.”
“And Father Thomas is at Ranid’s church?”
“Yes.”
“Then it makes sense. Donating a child’s belongings to a church in the slums is very plausible. Good work, Mildred.”
“…Was I helpful?”
“Of course. You were a big help. Thank you, Mildred.”
“It’s nothing.”
Mildred shrugged and glanced toward the tavern, but couldn’t hide how pleased she was by the praise.
“Hmph, I’ve always had good ears.”
“Good ears?”
“Yes. I tend to pick up on things happening around me.”
“That’s great. Looks like it’ll come in handy this time.”
“I wish I’d been helpful to you earlier.”
Mildred fiddled with her glasses, looking oddly serious.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. I’ll just have to be helpful from now on.”
“Thank you. Let’s do our best together.”
Just then—
“Marianne Whitehouse?”
Two large men appeared from the shadows.
Wide-brimmed hats, cloaks—clearly not locals.
“Who are you?”
Marie eyed them warily.
‘How do they know my name?’
And of course, Dwayne had just stepped away.
“Dway—!”
Mildred called out urgently.
At that moment, the men suddenly lunged at them, gloved hands grabbing both Marie and Mildred.
“Gasp—! Let go of me!”
“Lady Marianne!”
“So it is Marianne Whitehouse.”
Mildred’s face went pale as she realized it was her fault Marie’s identity had been exposed.
Cold sweat trickled down Marie’s face.
‘Are they targeting me? But why?’
She couldn’t think of anyone who would go this far.
Then, Nathan’s face flashed in her mind.
> “Marianne, if you think I’ll just give up, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait and see!”
‘Could it be Nathan?’
All this—over being acting Count for just six months?
“Let go of me! Who are you?!”
“Heh. You don’t need to know. Just come with us.”
Before she could scream for Dwayne again, a smelly leather glove clamped over Marie’s mouth.
“Mmph!”
The grip on her jaw was so tight her bones felt like they might shatter.
Seeing her mistress in pain, Mildred screamed.
“Lady Marianne! Let her go!”
Mildred’s nails raked across one man’s face.
“Agh! You little—!”
“Don’t touch her!”
“Where do you think you’re going, brat?!”
When she struggled, one of them kicked her hard in the stomach.
“Ugh!”
Mildred flew bac
kward, crashing into a metal trash can.
Clang— Clatter.
Even while clutching her stomach, she got up and charged again.
“Let her go!”
“You damn—!”
Smack!
A loud slap rang out.
“Ah!”
Mildred’s glasses hit the ground with a crack.
Crash!
After a hard blow to the head, she collapsed limply.
“Mildred!”
