“Ah, so boring. It’s not even a mining site. The company is just too dull—I hate it.”
It had been quite some time since she left for the meeting.
Edmund frowned at the sudden voice that broke the silence. His gaze shifted downward.
A freckled guard was sitting on the ground, looking as if he had been there for a while. Resting his chin on one hand, he used a twig as a makeshift pen, idly doodling on the ground to pass the time.
The guard looked up at Edmund and scrunched his nose.
“Isn’t it too boring here? How about the Mipedian Duchy? It’s full of skilled fighters—must be exciting there, right?”
Edmund ignored him and pulled out his pocket watch.
Etricia’s meeting was dragging on. Moreover, he still hadn’t received a clear set of coordinates from Tale, so he had no choice but to wait.
Edmund lifted his head and stared at the window of the meeting room. Through the glass, he could see Etricia’s silk-like hair swaying as she passionately debated with the executives.
The last time their eyes met, she had mouthed, “Go have a meal,” with an apologetic look.
Recalling that moment, so unlike her usual aloof and dignified demeanor, made him smile slightly. But then, his expression subtly changed as realization dawned upon him.
When did he start smiling like this?
It felt unfamiliar—this version of himself. Strange, yet not unpleasant. Almost as if he had reclaimed a part of himself that had been lost over the past nine years.
“Should we just slack off and flirt with passing women? With your face, they’d fall for you instantly.”
A ridiculous comment suddenly cut through his thoughts.
Edmund cast a cold stare at the guard, who grinned and winked playfully.
His shameless demeanor made Edmund frown. He knew most of the guards avoided him, yet this one seemed oddly comfortable around him.
Perhaps because he was currently disguised as a fellow knight.
Unaware of how approachable he appeared at the moment, Edmund glanced around. Most guards were diligently standing watch, but a few—including this one—were either chatting or dozing off.
‘Outsiders. No discipline.’
Unlike the tense atmosphere of a mining site, security at the company was lax due to its relative peace.
The Buell family was militarily weak, relying on hired knights. These mercenaries had no real loyalty or attachment to the land.
Even though Etricia didn’t reside here permanently, it was still her territory. Strengthening its military forces was necessary.
‘I should propose deploying a proper knight order soon.’
Just as he thought that, the communicator inside his jacket vibrated.
It was a telegram from Tale, containing the coordinates given by the informant.
Edmund looked back at the window. As soon as he caught Etricia’s eye, he gave a small nod, signaling that he was stepping out.
She smiled and waved briefly before refocusing on her meeting. His lips curved slightly, then the expression faded. He was just about to leave when—
“You like her, don’t you, Count?”
The words hit him like a hand grabbing his hair.
Edmund turned sharply, glaring at the guard. The man, who had been yawning lazily, jolted and fell backward when their eyes met.
“W-Well, I mean… Haven’t you been staring at the meeting room window this whole time? Like you’re watching over her, making sure she’s safe.”
Me? Edmund was baffled. He had only met Etricia’s gaze because she had looked at him apologetically.
But…
His face slowly shifted into an expression of confusion.
The guard muttered to himself, realizing he had said too much, and got up unsteadily.
“No? I’ve seen plenty of knights who secretly love their lords. If you look at the situation objectively, it’s kind of romantic.”
Secret love? Edmund raised an eyebrow coldly.
“N-No, that’s not what I meant… I just thought you might admire her. Even though she’s divorced, she’s still a beautiful and powerful woman. I didn’t see her up close, but plenty of guys were talking about how stunning the Countess of Buell is.”
The guard gestured toward a group of men Edmund had noticed chatting earlier. Their topic of conversation must have been the Countess’s looks.
Edmund’s expression darkened, his forehead creasing with tension. The guard smirked knowingly.
“Forget it, man. We’re not in the running. Judging by your demeanor, you’re from a noble family but not high enough to inherit a title, which is why you became a knight. Same here, so I’m just giving you advice.”
“…”
“Even though she’s divorced, she’s still the Countess of Buell, holding control over the Lebron Mines. She’s deeply connected to the Imperial Court and the Temple. Looks aside, your status just doesn’t match. It’s impossible.”
Edmund scoffed coldly.
The guard’s words were utterly ridiculous.
He was practically implying that Edmund was in love with Etricia.
‘Love?’
That word had nothing to do with him—especially not in connection to her.
Edmund rubbed his brow in disbelief before glaring at the guard again. He was not only lazy but also incredibly impudent.
Oblivious to Edmund’s icy glare, the guard continued dusting himself off.
“I heard one of the high-ranking executives is arranging a marriage between her and a merchant’s son.”
“…What?”
“So, before you get too hurt, you should give up. There’s no way someone of her status would marry below her rank.”
With that final remark, the guard walked away, leaving his twig discarded on the ground.
Edmund stood still, watching him disappear. His gaze slowly fell to the twig.
As he replayed the words in his head, a wave of irritation surged within him.
So much so that his eyelids trembled. His chest felt tight; his mood soured.
‘An arranged marriage? Already? As if her feelings don’t matter? No consideration for the pain she went through from her divorce?’
Damn it. His thoughts spiraled, and he let out a sharp curse under his breath.
None of this made sense. Not the guard’s nonsense, not the insensitive matchmaking, and certainly not the fact that he was even dwelling on it.
Just then, his communicator vibrated again.
Tale’s urgent message: We’ve captured the target. Get here fast.
Edmund exhaled, brushing a hand through his hair irritably. Suppressing his turbulent emotions, he turned away.
For now, he had more important things to deal with than his own confusion.
Carrying his unsettled thoughts, he headed toward Tale.
The meeting was progressing smoothly.
Discussions covered various topics, including business strategies and financial reports.
They also reviewed recent public perceptions of the Lebron Mines and how to shape its image moving forward.
As the meeting neared its end, I casually spoke up.
“Before we conclude, I have a few proposals to discuss.”
Resting my chin on my hand, I smiled at the executives seated around the round table.
They gave me puzzled looks.
“First, we will maintain our current supply of Lebron ores to the Imperial Court but lower the price next year. I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
In reality, it was more of an announcement than a request.
“What? Why would we—”
The executives were visibly shaken.
“For years, His Majesty has ensured our business operates safely. Consider this our way of repaying his grace.”
“But—”
“I will personally cover any losses.”
The other executives exchanged confused looks.
That was understandable.
They were trying not to show it and were being considerate in their own way, but under their kind and detailed briefing was a faint hint of condescension.
A silent message, like: What could that young girl possibly know about management?
I smiled softly as I watched the quick glances exchanged across the round table.
“And from now on, we’ll double the sponsorship budget for nonprofit organizations.”
Of course, that brought shock to the executives.
Still smiling, I continued.
“Also—”
Also?
All the executives’ faces stiffened at once.
Ignoring that, I said something that might even make someone stand up in protest.
“From now on, I’m going to give all authority over the territory and business operations to my uncle.”
“Etricia!”
See? He stood up.
My uncle stared at me, mouth wide open in shock.
I slowly lowered the hand that had been supporting my chin and turned to look at him.
“Yes, Uncle.”
“You didn’t say a word about this—what are you—”
“But if I did talk to you about it, you would’ve refused, wouldn’t you?”
As if my guess was correct, he sighed and placed a hand on his forehead.
It was the same look he had when I broke his favorite flowerpot when I was ten.
A wave of murmurs filled the room, crashing in my ears like a tide—louder than the complaints of the executives.
“Let’s all calm down.”
One executive hit the round table loudly, bringing the noisy room under control.
