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“Your Excellency, it seems a guest has arrived. Would you like to remain in the prayer room?”
“……It is fine. I have been expecting them.”
He could tell exactly who it was just by the sound of those bold footsteps.
As Bishop Parben bowed and withdrew, a noblewoman wrapped in smooth grey fur stepped into the space he had vacated.
The noblewoman sighed, tossing a large leather bag she had been carrying in one hand onto the floor.
“Why don't you just visit my townhouse from now on, Count? Cutting back on sleep to go out at this hour is not good for the skin.”
“I would prefer not to be plagued by unnecessary scandals with you, Madame.”
“You're saying something embarrassingly sentimental, unlike yourself. Aren't you the type to gladly use a scandal whenever it serves your purpose?”
After letting out a scoff, the noblewoman opened the lock of the bag and revealed a bundle of neatly folded papers.
“These are the blueprints you requested.”
As she reached for a cigar tucked inside the bag, Valentin stopped her, pulling a few sheets from the bundle and unfolding them.
“Smoking is not permitted in the prayer room.”
Tsk. The noblewoman clicked her tongue and put the cigar away.
“For your information, this is only a third of the total. I thought it would be too unsightly for me to be struggling with the weight of everything. I'll have a servant send the rest. ……Well, what do you think? Will you finally be able to see that illustrious Libertan's face?”
“How many of these blueprints are there in total?”
“Three hundred.”
“…….”
“You look displeased; surely I'm mistaken? My past hardships must not have been for nothing.”
“They won't be.”
Adding these to the blueprints he already possessed, the total came to four hundred. From these, he had to select Libertan's final stronghold.
While there were several selection criteria, he had to minimize the probability of failure within those criteria to move without leaving a trail. If he missed the timing and Libertan escaped, it would turn into another long-term war, just as it had for the past four years. That was a future he did not particularly desire.
“So, when are you going to propose to Oksana, Count? If possible, I'd prefer it not be this year, but next year—no, the year after.”
After taking the bag, Valentin looked back at the fierce-eyed noblewoman. Her flamboyant and vulgar reputation in high society was merely a carefully crafted facade; in reality, she was a woman who was always calculating and cold.
Of course, there were parts of her that remained consistent, both outwardly and inwardly.
“Next year is too far off, Duchess Illyn.”
“……I will say this once more.”
Namely, that she lived and breathed for her two daughters.
“You are too dangerous. Even if Libertan dies, if there are remnants left to seek revenge, the target will undoubtedly be you, Count Nariyan. Their rage will not only target you but your family as well. The thought of my daughter being included in that is truly…… horrific.”
“You surprisingly gave your permission.”
“Paradoxically, the most dangerous Count is the most reliable.”
With a bitter smile, Duchess Illyn crossed her arms and quietly closed her eyes.
Aside from the Novarov Imperial Family, no one helped Horgan as fervently as she did. Duchess Illyn's murderous intent toward Libertan was always hot and sharp. In the sense that they were both dedicating their lives to punishing Libertan, they were very similar types of people.
“Looking at the Count reminds me of my late husband…… we didn't have any embarrassing romantic feelings between us, but we had a firmer bond of faith and trust. He was an honest man. He never forgot the woman he loved until the day he died…… and he protected me and our daughters until the very end.”
Valentin recalled the despair of Duchess Illyn that he had encountered in his previous life. In the sense that they both dreamed of revenge after losing beloved family, their natures were indeed similar.
“That is enough for me. I will love Oksana, so you just protect that child, Count. If you promise me that, I am more than willing to be used for your purpose.”
When he smiled without answering, the already fierce woman's gaze grew even colder.
“Strange. Why aren't you shamelessly agreeing as you used to……?”
A somewhat irrational obsession with her daughter—or more accurately, her family.
Valentin had never judged Duchess Illyn's psychology as excessive. This was because, after Larisa appeared in his life, he had been walking a path that was not much different.
Perhaps that was why? Though he had never shared a private conversation with Duchess Illyn in over a decade, a question suddenly occurred to him that he wanted to ask her today.
“Madame, if Miss Oksana wished, would you send her to a man other than me?”
Duchess Illyn looked puzzled by the unexpected question, but she answered bluntly, true to her nature.
“I did keep an eye on things when my eldest daughter, Therese, chose a trivial fellow. In the end, it was discovered that he was neglecting my daughter, so I forced a breakup after a year.”
“Did Miss Therese accept the breakup?”
“That doesn't matter. I had already given him two chances.”
With a thin smile, she held up her index and middle fingers.
“First, the chance to love that idiot. Second, the chance to marry that idiot.”
Folding her fingers one by one, Duchess Illyn slowly stood up.
“I'm sorry, but I'm not a very generous person. I only tolerate things twice. After that, the chances are over. Once the chances are gone, protecting my daughter is the priority, regardless of what she wants. I don't want to lose them and go mad. A prophet who seems to have mastered all the affairs of the world might not understand, but…….”
Duchess Illyn trailed off as she left the holy hall.
Left alone, Valentin looked at the cold milk he had set beside him, then picked up the glass and rose from his chair.
‘Two chances, huh.’
As he walked, milk suddenly splashed onto his clothes. Stopping to look into the glass, he saw the once-still surface shaking violently.
He had limped again.
Realizing this, he felt an immediate urge to throw the object in his hand. To forget the violent impulse, Valentin silently stared at the white surface as it gradually grew calm.
In moments like this, a certain face naturally came to mind. A small girl who brought peace to Valentin simply by existing, anywhere and anytime.
No, she was no longer a girl. She was a woman.
[If it's you…… you may use me.]
As she spoke, Larisa's gaze was fixed entirely on Valentin's eyes. It never once drifted toward his crippled leg. The moment he faced that kindness, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
She said it was fine to be used. If so, when he became a cripple again, how far would this child go for him? ……And knowing this dark heart of mine, how much longer can I endure?
In Valentin's confused mind, Bishop Parben's voice gradually faded away.
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