Oscar flared with righteous fury, his voice echoing like a thunderous reprimand from a sect elder.
"To speak so lightly of violating the sacred oath of pre-marital purity—how dare you utter such heresy!"
“Waaah~ Bald Uncle, you’re way too loud. Can’t you lower your spiritual voice just a little?”
I imitated Rose’s childish tone and addressed Oscar directly.
Oscar’s face turned a deep crimson as he instinctively reached up to cover his glistening scalp.
“B-Bald…!”
I rubbed my belly, putting on the most pitiful expression I could muster—like a maiden trying to shield her unborn heir from a ruthless tribunal.
“As honored Elders of the Ancestral Council, shouldn’t you be thinking of the future of the clan—our Rose, who will carry on the bloodline? And he’s even a son!”
I watched in amusement as the elders, who moments before had been puffed up with spiritual superiority, visibly twitched at the word
son
.
I knew it. They always fall for that.
Why is it that the elders of every noble sect are so fanatically obsessed with having male descendants?
“A grandson who will inherit the main bloodline!”
“...!”
“A precious son to carry the clan’s will!”
“...!”
I chanted those phrases like an exorcist reciting mantras, and the elders reacted like inner demons being purged one by one.
“A trueborn heir of the direct line!”
“...!”
As Erik once joked, I seriously considered heading to the prayer pavilion to ask the heavens why these old cultivators lived and breathed only for male heirs.
Every time I mentioned
grandson
,
son
, or
successor
, they recoiled like mortals faced with divine tribulation.
With the grace of a benevolent goddess, I gazed down at them and said,
“So please lower your voices and speak only of things that promote peace within my body and soul, yes?”
“...Khmm…”
The same elders who had been launching verbal sword strikes my way now stood awkwardly, rendered mute by a few well-placed words.
“You claimed you were here to deliver the account scrolls, but at this rate, your nonsense is causing my spiritual meridians to twist up with tension!”
Even that statement—clearly exaggeration—caused the three elders’ faces to pale further.
It was common knowledge that the Ancestral Council of any great noble clan obsessed over heirs, but House Orléans had an especially scarce bloodline, their male descendants few and far between.
Sure, the problem was that only
male
bloodline cultivators counted as “true heirs”—a backward doctrine shared by every clan on the continent—but that was a fight for another day.
Right now, regardless of whether I conceived within wedlock or not, to pressure the woman carrying the clan’s only potential heir—especially if something were to happen to me—would bring disaster upon the elders themselves.
I leaned back, watching them squirm as if a heavy qi pressure were weighing down upon them.
“I couldn’t even eat properly this morning… Lately, my nausea has been severe…”
With a pained sigh, I stretched out on the guest room’s long chaise, legs extended in a posture far too casual for a noblewoman.
But not one of them dared scold me for it.
Alain’s gaze fell upon Nina, who quietly placed a cushion behind my back. Then, without warning, he asked,
“She truly hasn’t eaten this morning?”
Nina flinched and looked at me.
Ah… oops.
I locked eyes with her.
“The pay you get from the steward and this household outweighs whatever bribe they offered, right?”
Nina slowly averted her gaze.
Panicked, I turned to the steward. His face was locked in an expression of internal struggle, his eyes darting back and forth like a junior disciple caught between two elders.
It was true the steward was favorably inclined toward me. But Nina?
She was a model servant: loyal only to the one who signed her spirit contract. That was her duty. I couldn’t even be mad about it.
Damn it.
I turned one last time to Lady Lily, eyes full of desperate appeal.
Lily, of course, looked at me like:
“This isn’t my problem. Solve it yourself.”
Ugh. Completely useless woman…
Lily wasn’t a servant—she was loyal to the imperial princess and to Erik.
In the end, there wasn’t a single person in this whole manor who was truly on my side.
“You, a lowly servant, wouldn’t dare lie about the one you serve, would you? Especially when you think about all the spirit stones your upkeep drains from this manor…”
Alain began pressuring Nina with his spiritual authority.
‘Whatever. Let fate take its course…’
I turned my head with a face that said I’d given up.
Then Nina opened her mouth.
“…He didn’t touch a single bite. I had to discard all the food, Lord Alain.”
‘…Huh?’
We’d sat together just earlier, eating side by side, enjoying every bite…?
But the confusion only lasted a moment.
Before the topic could swing back to me, I leaned into a cushion and haughtily covered my mouth.
“Uugh…!”
The three elders’ faces drained of color the instant I looked like I was experiencing morning sickness.
I weakly waved my hand as if I couldn’t even speak.
Oscar rushed over, snatching another cushion from Nina and offering it to me.
“Oh dear… thank you…”
Satisfied, I sank back and lay across both cushions like a young mistress being doted on.
Alain, Sicar, and Oscar’s faces all twisted at once—but none dared open their mouths.
Still waving my hand lazily, I said,
“Well then. Let’s begin with the spirit ledger. Hurry.”
✵
✵
✵
The elders, thoroughly crushed by the daughter-in-law lounging across the grand sofa, all looked like they were about to burst with frustration.
‘Hmph. That’s what you get. How delightful.’
Even the steward in the distance wore a similar expression to mine.
That’s when Alain lifted his hand.
His assistant stepped forward and
thud
—dropped a thick mountain of scrolls onto the table before me.
“This is the spirit ledger for this month.”
“…You mean this
month
? Not the
year
?”
Wait, no—this much paperwork could compile the entire history of the cultivation world!
I rose from my comfortably sprawled position.
The elders’ smugness returned to their faces as if they’d been waiting for this moment.
I began pulling out the sheets, each painstakingly inscribed by hand, my face growing grimmer by the page.
Seeing that, Alain smiled.
“As expected… This is beyond you, isn’t it? Since you’ve mentioned your fragile constitution, we should continue overseeing the spirit ledgers ourselves—”
Just as he reached to retrieve them, the steward stepped forward and cried out,
“No! That won’t do! The Council only managing the ledgers was always an
exceptional
arrangement!”
His voice was urgent—too bold for a servant to be speaking out like this—but there was a reason.
Even before the old fogeys had shown up, the steward had drilled it into my ears that I
had
to reclaim the financial authority.
“In House Orléans, the domain’s spirit wealth has traditionally been overseen by the Matriarch.
The Duke handles major ventures—business, warfare, expansion. But the daily flow of qi stones and tributes? That was always the Lady’s domain.
Ever since the Matriarch’s passing ten years ago, the Council has held that authority instead.”
“Minor finances,” he called them.
But looking at it now, there was nothing minor about any of this.
The household’s
monthly
expenditure alone was five million gold.
Add in the domain’s revenues and investments managed by the Duke himself, and…
No wonder the donations to the Imperial Sect were so massive—it turns out they were just spare change for this family.
‘These insane rich cultivators…’
I trembled inwardly with inferiority.
“Rumors have been circulating lately. The elders have grown overconfident.
Petty and grand embezzlement alike—no longer uncommon.
And of course, the burden falls squarely on the cultivators and mortals under House Orléans’ protection.”
But was this really
just
the elders’ doing?
If the Duke kept secret ledgers, then it likely wasn’t that he’d simply
allowed
them to steal—
he’d
joined in
.
And when the imperial family came calling for land or assistance, he’d always conveniently step aside.
“Ah, the Council opposes it. I’m afraid I can’t do much.”
A perfect excuse.
“Of course, I know reading ledgers isn’t your favorite pastime, my lady…
But if you can just seize back control over the household’s spirit wealth, I’ll handle the rest.
Whatever it takes—please bring that authority back where it belongs!”
The steward was… well…
He wasn’t wrong. There was something about him that reminded me of Erik.
Even though transferring fiscal authority to me wouldn’t reduce his own share in the slightest, he still insisted that I take it—because the commoners of the territory were suffering, and someone
had
to act. That sort of talk…
...Conscience really is such a useless thing.
Just as I was thinking that, Alain scolded the steward like a sect elder reprimanding a junior disciple.
“Humph! A mere steward dares to interrupt?”
“M-my apologies… B-but…”
The steward looked to me with desperate eyes, like a loyal retainer clinging to his last hope.
That’s when the bald-headed Oscar, with a tone slicker than oil on jade, inserted himself into the conversation.
“Well now, passing the ledgers and control of the treasury to you, Young Mistress… It’s not as difficult as it seems.”
Not difficult, huh? You just don’t want to hand it over.
I smacked my lips, staring at Oscar with clear disinterest.
Why must I get dragged into some petty internal power struggle within this sect-like household?
It’s becoming more and more of a bother...
The steward continued to shoot me imploring looks, but I chose to ignore him.
“But of course, such matters involve the sacred contributions of the people of the fief,” Oscar continued, his tone now akin to a father-in-law testing a daughter-in-law. “So I must ask you just one question. Here, regarding this section—the imperial court recently revised the tax rate…”
He deliberately droned on using obscure fiscal jargon, hoping to suffocate my confidence with terms I didn’t understand, all to take back the account ledgers with a smug “see, I told you” smirk.
And truthfully, most of the terms he used about land tax law and yield ratios meant absolutely nothing to me.
I frowned, eyes fixed on the page Oscar kept pointing at like some sort of divine scripture.
“Hmmm…”
“So then, would it be wiser to extend the farmland contract for another year, or should we liquidate the assets?”
I could feel the steward’s gaze weighing heavily on my face. When I glanced his way, he was practically mouthing the answer.
But before he could speak, Oscar’s radiant bald head suddenly inserted itself between us like a glowing shield talisman.
The steward retreated, looking thoroughly defeated.
And as I looked at him, one single thought passed through my mind:
What kind of cultivation breakthrough am I supposed to gain by inheriting the treasury scrolls of this family?
…Ugh. So troublesome. Far too troublesome.
Oscar, still high on his own words, continued,
“And so, as you see, the revised taxation increased by three tenths, yet the fertility of this farmland—”
Before he could utter another ridiculous term, I cut him off coldly.
“I dunno~” I said, stretching the syllables out like a lazy fox-spirit.
“M-my Lady…!” the steward collapsed behind me with the face of someone shouting,
At least say something!
The elders, meanwhile, looked triumphant, like Nascent Soul elders who’d finally suppressed a rebellious junior.
Oscar’s expression lit up as brilliantly as his scalp.
“Exactly. You do not understand, do you?”
Alain reached forward to snatch away the account scroll as if it now rightfully belonged to him.
That is, until I jabbed a finger at the center of the page.
“This calculation’s off. It shouldn’t be ten thousand—it’s twenty-eight thousand. And not just this—look here, here, and here… My heavens, these ledgers are full of holes! And wait—who the heck buys a goat for five hundred silver? Have none of you ever raised livestock? Worked a farm? This timber here… it says one gold per gellier! You’d think we were gilding the rafters!”
I smoothly yanked the ledger back before Alain could react, flipping through it page by page as I pointed out error after error with a cold sneer.
Then, unable to hold back any longer, I cast a frosty glare at the three elders and declared,
“You’ve practically
donated
the treasury to unscrupulous merchants. A donation. That’s what this is.”
“W-what do you mean…!”
The elders’ faces twisted in horror, as though they’d been struck by a backlash of karmic retribution.
They looked at one another in silence.
Alain slowly pulled back the hand he’d stretched toward the spirit ledger and spoke with a stiff expression.
“Well… there may be aspects the Young Mistress doesn’t quite understand, as she’s never directly conducted these transactions herself…”
“Oh? I don’t understand?”
I narrowed my eyes and let out a short, dry laugh.
“You’re saying I, who lived in the southern provinces, know less about the market price of farming tools than you three who’ve done nothing but shuffle numbers behind desks in the capital?”
The steward, sensing the shift in momentum, pushed himself up from where he had half-collapsed.
‘Honestly, why is no one taking me seriously? I really am good with numbers.’
I gave the steward a wink.
He clutched his chest like someone suffering from a heart deviation.
I casually pointed to a page in another document.
“Well then, care to explain this line here? A goat priced at five hundred silver?”
“Th-That’s…!”
With a loud
thud
, I slammed the ledger down onto the table.
The three elders’ faces turned pale as ghost jade.
“With ledgers in this state, how am I supposed to approve any spiritual land contracts or supply distributions?”
I shot Alain a glare.
He quickly averted his eyes. He didn’t want the growing list of discrepancies to lead to deeper investigation—and he certainly didn’t want to be the one held responsible.
Reading his expression, I smirked.
“Well then, let’s settle this right now.”
“S-Settle what…?”
“Will you quietly hand over the authority to manage the household’s qi flow and wealth right here… or shall I summon every merchant involved in these transactions and recover every spirit stone you’ve skimmed off the top?”
I lazily reclined back onto the sofa.
The three elders instantly flared up.
“Now hold on, Young Mistress! We have no knowledge of those specific amounts—”
As they began raising their voices, I gently rubbed my belly and cooed,
“Gramps~ let’s not make this hard, hmm~? Mommy says she’s tired~”
‘Honestly, managing the spirit treasury sounds like a headache…’
But letting this slide?
No way.
I couldn’t tolerate bad luck—especially when it wore such smug faces.
As the elders’ expressions twisted in frustration, the steward discreetly gave me a big thumbs up from behind.
Looked like I’d earned back his full trust.
Chapter 57