The elders wore expressions as if they'd been forced to swallow spirit beast dung, but at least their attitudes had grown far more respectful.
After handing over control of the sect's treasury like obedient outer sect disciples handing in their contribution scrolls, they politely declined tea and retreated from the manor with unnatural haste—clearly convinced I now held their spiritual cores in the palm of my hand.
As soon as they left, the steward turned to me, his eyes gleaming with the light of revelation, like a mortal receiving a divine decree.
“You truly do have a fondness for numbers, Young Mistress! Forgive me, my faith was lacking!”
Of course I do. Back in the outer realms, I kept double-ledgers for loan sharks so shady even demon cultivators wouldn’t cross them.
…Not that I could say that out loud.
“Exactly. Your devotion was lacking. Now kneel and offer praise!”
I threw my arms open like a haughty sect matriarch, basking in imaginary incense smoke.
I expected him to grimace, but instead, the steward lowered his head reverently like a priest before a heavenly artifact.
“Ah, to be so wise, so eloquent, and so clever…”
With that, the shame of yesterday’s ghostwriting scandal was utterly washed away in one strike.
Grinning triumphantly, I shoved the entire stack of treasury scrolls into the steward’s arms.
“…?”
He looked at me like this was some sacred mandate handed down from the heavens.
“You said if I just retrieved them, you’d handle the rest, right? Then go forth! I believe in you!”
I gave him a benevolent smile, one filled with qi-infused encouragement. He paused briefly, then nodded solemnly, as if saying,
Yes, this is fate.
“Yes! I’ll take care of everything. Leave it all to me!”
Naturally. That’s your fate to carry.
…I’ll be long gone in ten months anyway.
Watching him practically float away on clouds of enthusiasm, I felt an odd tightness in my chest.
Man, this guy really likes work. He’s overjoyed to be handed account ledgers. Is this the Dao of Paperwork or something?
I turned my gaze from his retreating figure to Nina.
“So… why did you cover for me earlier?”
You didn’t seem the loyal-type. Heck, when have we ever been on the same side?
Nina, sharp as any seasoned servant, didn’t hesitate to answer.
“I thought the Young Mistress would be more likely to extend my employment contract than those old fogeys.”
Ah, what a satisfying answer.
I grinned and nodded. “A wise decision, Nina.”
“I knew it. Then tonight’s dinner…?”
“Why even ask? We feast on meat!”
I declared it with the vigor of a general announcing victory in the battlefield of bureaucracy. The elders had drained my qi to its very core.
Nina watched me and mumbled something strange.
“…Too adorable… unbearably cute…”
By afternoon, the visiting physician summoned by the Duke arrived to examine me.
Just like Erik had predicted, the man had already been
persuaded
, whether by coin or compromise. After a half-hearted examination, he declared both the mother and fetus healthy, though his expression suggested the weight of a guilty conscience had begun to weigh down his soul.
Before he could fully leave the estate, I poked him in the side and discreetly slipped a gem from my jewelry box into his hand.
“I’m still early in the pregnancy… Please be sure to stress that I mustn’t exert myself. Be firm.”
He nodded with a face that looked like he’d fully accepted the ruin of his medical Dao heart, clutching the jewel like a sinner gripping their last offering to the heavens.
Whatever he said worked wonders—afterward, the steward began treating me like a sect saint. Even when I lazed around and unwrapped wedding gifts with the grace of a spoiled phoenix maiden, he didn’t object.
Nina too kept bringing me tasty treats and would occasionally murmur:
“Lady Emelline… ah, no, Young Mistress, you’re just… far too cute.”
…I don’t think I’ve done anything particularly cute, though…
But then again, true cuteness doesn’t need effort. Some things are simply born that way—like spirit fox cubs and pampered princesses.
Anyway.
After snacking on the treats Nina brought me, I said I’d lie down for a while—then sat at my desk to write a letter to Mother.
It had weighed on my heart that I hadn’t seen her since parting ways at the Inner Palace.
Choosing not to go with her had been my decision—for her sake and for Philippe’s—so I had no regrets.
Even so, the expression she wore that day wouldn’t leave my mind.
I stared blankly at the empty paper for a long time, then—
Instead of picking up the spirit brush, I opened a drawer of the vanity and pulled out a few gemstones.
‘Just these few… would be enough for Mother and Philippe to live on for a few months, at least…’
Just as I reached to slip them into the envelope, a voice echoed in my mind:
“These were left by the late Duchess for the Young Lord’s future wife.”
The steward’s voice.
Tch. What’s the big deal? I’m only skimming one… Just one, come on…
Among this mountain of treasures, Eric wouldn’t even notice if a single gem disappeared.
Trying to convince myself, I opened my hand over the envelope, ruby in my palm.
If I just loosened my grip, it would fall right in.
But strangely… my hand wouldn’t move.
“Move! I said move, damn it!”
I muttered desperately, but my body wouldn’t obey.
In the end, I could only put the ruby back into the drawer with a sulky face.
‘Ugh… freaking hell…’
How did I end up like this?
Could it be… sticking around that Eric guy too long…
had caused
conscience
to sprout inside me?!
I stared at my reflection in the mirror with horror.
‘Tch. Things like conscience are completely useless for survival…’
In the end, all I could do was write a short note and slip it into the envelope.
“I’m doing well. I hope you are too.”
There were so many words that wouldn’t fit in that tiny sentence.
I sat there for a long time without sealing the envelope—
Then finally slipped in the 100,000 gold Eric had given me and sealed it shut.
The wax seal spread messily, but I knew Mother wouldn’t care.
Well. At this point…
Might as well go all in on
Margaret Beaufort
.
With that thought, I packed the letter Eric had written to Lady Margaret.
Now that I think about it—
When
is
Eric coming back?
He
has
to hear how badly I was ambushed by those old fogeys today.
If I were really this family’s daughter-in-law, I would’ve fled already!
The only reason I’m holding on is because I’m a
fake
daughter-in-law.
Funny, isn’t it? A strange sort of irony.
If I were someone who threw my whole heart into everything,
there’s no way I could have endured this.
A world where only those who care too much end up hurt.
I shook my head in disbelief.
And of course, the phrase
“someone who gives their all”
brought one man to mind, as naturally as breathing.
Eric Orléans.
✵
✵
✵
Two months.
That was how long Eric had been away from the Royal Knights.
During that time, he had been nothing more than a noble son stripped of rank—no longer Captain.
Most of the knights gathered here were second sons or illegitimate branches of noble houses—
People without ties to inheritance, which is why they could accept the oath of martial purity.
In contrast, most
firstborn heirs
of noble clans had no real martial talent.
Their families, often with few descendants, raised them with excessive care, shielding them from the blade.
So the knights assumed that while Eric had returned to his family, he too must have stopped training.
Attending social gatherings… drinking himself stupid…
And hadn’t he even gone through with a loud, flashy wedding to his father’s fiancée’s daughter?
Training? In that mess?
Yeah, right.
Chapter 58