“That Gentry’s government suddenly disappeared, and there’s no news. Damn it.”
Tale felt as if he were being toyed with by a monster.
Edmund’s gaze calmed as he looked at his subordinate, who was filled with guilt.
“Stay composed, Tale. Acting hastily will only ruin things.”
Hearing the cold yet steady advice, Tale slowly caught his breath, suppressing his rising frustration. He had been so sure they had reached their goal, only for it to slip away at the last moment. The truth was, no one wanted to find the monster more desperately than his master did.
For years, he had endured hatred toward an intangible being without losing his mind. The only way he could remain so composed was because he had grown immune to despair. Realizing this, Tale felt ashamed of himself for losing control over a single setback.
“I apologize.”
Tale smoothed his disheveled hair and bowed respectfully. Edmund’s gaze briefly swept over him.
“What about the mother of the maid from the Mana Stone Management Office?”
“She regained consciousness a few days ago, but communication is still difficult. The medical staff said that with continuous training, she should be able to communicate again. I told them we would wait for her progress.”
Edmund sighed and rubbed his face a couple of times. Beneath his exhausted expression, impatience flickered. Though he had reassured Tale, he, too, was thirsting for something just out of reach. It was ironic—after enduring years of patience, his obsession had only worsened since realizing his feelings for Etricia. There could not be a single obstacle to her safety.
“Understood. Now that we know he’s not in the capital, leave only a small team behind and reassign the rest to the original portrait search areas.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tale knelt down and bowed in obedience. When he stood up, Edmund was already focused on his documents. His mental strength was extraordinary. Between investigating the monster, searching for Devon, managing private soldiers, and handling estate affairs, it was hard to believe he was merely human.
‘But today, he seems more hurried than usual.’
Tale narrowed his eyes as a forgotten detail surfaced in his mind.
“Are you in a rush to attend tonight’s banquet?”
“Yes.”
Tale let out a faint smile. The tense atmosphere that had surrounded Edmund softened slightly. He must have been thinking about Count Buell.
“I heard Count Buell is gifting Lebron accessories to the knights. And with all the nonprofit donations, the more I learn, the more I realize how different she is from my first impression. It’s a relief.”
Edmund kept his eyes on the document, only his brow twitching slightly.
“A relief?”
“That you spared Count Buell. You never know how things will turn out. Who would have thought you’d take an interest in her—”
Tale suddenly froze, sensing a chilling presence. Edmund had lifted his eyes, staring at him intently. His sharp, gleaming gaze was no different from that of a predator.
“I apologize for my impudence—”
“Since when did you know?”
Instead of reprimanding him, Edmund asked a question. Tale, caught off guard, hesitated before responding.
“…Since we arrived in the capital.”
“Who else among the team knows?”
“It would be faster to ask who doesn’t.”
Edmund’s elegant face slowly twisted. He recalled his conversation with Rael that morning before leaving the mansion.
‘As I mentioned at breakfast, I believe I may have been rude to Count Buell.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All the servants know where your warm gaze is directed. Count Buell is the only woman you treat kindly aside from Lady Etricia, so it’s obvious. However, the Countess seems uncomfortable with such personal matters being so openly recognized by the staff.’
Rael had spoken cautiously, as if he were certain of his assumption.
But Etricia wasn’t the type to be upset over something so trivial. She might blush slightly, laugh it off, or, if it went too far, handle it with grace. Despite her aloof appearance, she was considerate and kind to her subordinates, even empathizing with their hardships as if she had once lived as a servant herself. The household staff’s affection for her wasn’t just due to sympathy for her tragic past—it was something deeper.
So, if she wasn’t upset about the servants knowing, there had to be another reason. What was it? When he saw her smiling as usual, he sensed a subtle but firm barrier preventing him from asking.
‘Could it be because of Devon’s escape?’
Edmund narrowed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He tried to recall if he had said anything thoughtless, but nothing came to mind.
Meanwhile, Tale, watching his master lost in thought, scratched his head.
“Did something happen between you and Count Buell?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
A curt response. They must have had a disagreement. As Tale was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something from earlier that morning and unconsciously snapped his fingers.
“Ah, could it be because of—”
“Because of what?”
Tale’s eyes widened in alarm.
He instinctively knew—his master must never find out. With forced innocence, he feigned ignorance.
“Huh? W-What do you mean?”
“I’m asking you. Weren’t you talking about Count Buell?”
“Oh, no, not at all.”
Tale frantically shook his head, but his suspicious behavior gave him away.
Edmund leaned back in his chair, resting his head on one hand while studying Tale with a piercing gaze. Though his posture was relaxed, his golden eyes were as sharp as a beast’s. Tale felt as if arrows were piercing his entire body.
‘Damn… Sorry, everyone.’
Unable to withstand the suffocating pressure, Tale finally broke into a cold sweat and confessed.
“Actually, some knights were gossiping yesterday when they ran into Count Buell…”
By the time he finished relaying the incident, Edmund had already risen from his chair.
Tap, tap, tap. Edmund’s polished boots clicked intermittently against the marble floor.
After hearing about the knights’ careless remarks, Edmund felt as if his insides were burning like a cigarette. He had never been this anxious in his life.
He wanted to go straight to the mansion and clear up the misunderstanding with Etricia. To tell her that nothing happened with the Western princess. To make sure she wouldn’t misunderstand his true feelings because of some foolish rumors.
Damn it. Swearing under his breath, Edmund glared coldly toward the left side of his office—where Baron Montree stood.
‘Where are you going?’
Just as he was about to storm out, Baron Montree entered, blocking his way. He insisted there were urgent documents that required Edmund’s approval before the day ended. When Edmund told him to step aside, the old man pretended to collapse dramatically. Sighing in frustration, Edmund returned to his desk. That had been three hours ago.
But now, he was almost done. As he finished the last document, his eyes gleamed like a full moon.
With a swift stroke, he signed his name and practically threw the quill aside. Just as he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack—
Bang. A loud sound stopped him.
Turning toward his desk, he saw Baron Montree patting his back exaggeratedly, standing beside yet another pile of documents.
Edmund’s brow furrowed.
“Baron Montree, that’s enough for today.”
“Apologies, but please review and finalize these as well.”
“Didn’t you say that last time?”
The old man stroked his white beard with a knowing smile.
“Ah, did I? My memory must be fading with age.”
Clearly as sharp as ever, he only seemed more irritating in Edmund’s eyes.
“Send the rest to the capital. Even if you have to stay up all night, get it done.”
Just before Edmund could storm out of the office, Baron Montree’s voice stopped him.
“Are you going to Countess Buell, by any chance?”
Edmund froze with his hand on the doorknob. Hearing Baron Montree’s confident tone, he gave up even trying to make an excuse.
Slowly turning his head, Edmund looked at Baron Montree with a twisted expression, as if asking how he knew.
“Seems like everyone around me, including you, has a loose tongue.”
His voice was cold and sharp, but Baron Montree only smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Isn’t that what they say? That you can’t predict what happens between a man and a woman. You were so firm in your denial at the vineyard, yet here you are, proving this old man right.”
“…Ha.”
How much did he know? At this point, Edmund was starting to think he couldn’t just overlook the loose mouths of his subordinates.
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Especially that Tale…
While Edmund clenched his teeth inwardly, Baron Montree’s tone suddenly turned serious.
“As long as you’re happy, Your Grace, it doesn’t matter who she is.”
In Baron Montree’s eyes, Edmund’s past had been far too lonely and bitter. A boy who had to grow up too quickly. Someone who lived precariously, like a leaf shaking in the wind. He needed someone to shield him from that wind. Edmund deserved to have a warm, emotionally stable home full of love.
But still, Baron Montree couldn’t help but worry.
