Helena returned to the manor with her face swollen and puffy.
The moment Philip saw her, he gasped in horror.
“What happened! Don’t tell me that Eric guy struck you? Did he say something reckless to you again!?”
“Quit overreacting. My ears are about to fall off, son,” Helena grumbled as she scratched her ear, her face worn and weary. She peeled off her robe and tossed it onto the couch. Then, she made her way to the cabinet, poured herself a drink, and downed it in one go. It was alcohol she never touched in front of the servants—trying to maintain a noblewoman’s image, at least in the manor.
“Haaah…”
She exhaled deeply.
“Damn it… Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
She even cursed.
Philip suddenly slapped his forehead, as if he had an epiphany.
“Oh! I get it now! It’s Emelline, isn’t it? That girl mouthed off at you, didn’t she? Should I go scold her for you?”
A simple mind—if it wasn’t Eric, then it had to be Emelline. Helena could read exactly what was running through her son’s little head.
“…Just don’t get yourself scolded instead. You can’t even match her, you know…”
She ran a hand through her fiery red hair.
Philip tilted his head.
“Then what happened? Why do you look like that? Your beauty’s taken a hit, you know.”
“Want me to knock you out cold too?”
Helena shot him a deadly glare, killing intent radiating from her eyes. Philip quickly dropped into a crouch like a frightened beast.
“Of course, you’re still radiant as ever, Mother…”
“They like each other.”
Turning her gaze away from Philip, Helena set down her cup and spoke flatly.
“Huh?”
Philip blinked, not understanding.
“You didn’t know? Emelline even wrote in her letter that she liked him because he’s handsome.”
“She didn’t say she
liked
him. She said he was handsome, kind, and upright.”
“Same difference,” Philip scoffed, waving his hand as if Helena were saying something ridiculous.
Why was his usually sharp mother suddenly acting like this? He was genuinely puzzled.
“Now that I think about it,” Helena said bitterly, “they really do seem to have feelings for each other. Maybe even… love.”
She recalled the conversation she’d had with Eric at the princess’s palace.
“Well… if that’s how it is, there’s nothing I can do. It’s a shame, but it’s not like I’ll die without that money.”
“Hey.”
“Let me reconsider the interest rate.”
“Interest? You’re charging me interest?”
Eric hadn’t budged an inch under her threats. If anything, he threw the idea of
interest
right back at her.
“Because it’s a loan.”
“Young Lord! My marriage was ruined because of you!”
“So what? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, was it? It was for money.”
Eric had spoken with a resolute expression.
“If you’re going to give me some sermon about how sacred marriage is…”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant… Lady Helena should be happy. Because if she isn’t, then Emelline won’t be happy either.”
He had said that, then clamped his mouth shut like he’d let something slip.
Helena had stared at his flushed face in disbelief.
“If Emelline’s not happy… does that mean you won’t be happy either?”
Eric never answered that question. But Helena felt like she’d already received his answer, just from his expression.
“Haaaah…”
Helena pressed her hands over her face, the image of Eric’s last expression still vivid in her mind.
Philip, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea what internal struggle his mother was going through.
“Why are you even hesitating? No matter how things go, if those two end up forming a long-lasting cultivation bond, Eric will be more inclined to support us with spirit stones, and Emelin becomes the Duchess. It’s a win-win, isn’t it?”
“There’s a problem. A real one…”
Helena stared at Philip with a stern expression.
Philip always felt like a fool whenever his mother gave him that look.
The two women in this clan seemed to know far too much—and always left him out.
“What problem?”
“That Emelin’s pregnancy is a complete lie.”
Helena grasped Philip’s cheek in one hand.
Philip’s face, now caught, suddenly lit up with realization.
“Oh…”
“If you ask me, those two haven’t even completed their dual cultivation night.”
Helena’s voice was sharp as a blade.
Honestly, she’d already suspected Emelin might refuse to leave with her. That’s why the letter telling her to just take the gold and run had been a test.
If it was
just
about the money, or a fleeting feeling, or some scheme behind the scenes, Helena was ready to intervene and ‘set her daughter’s life straight.’
But as it turns out, Emelin…
“I want to protect him.”
She really meant it. She actually had feelings for that infuriating man.
“Oh, come on. How would you even know that? These days, girls are… well, wild—”
Helena narrowed her eyes and hissed. Philip quickly shut his mouth.
“That’s
you
, not them. They’re different. Now—what do you think we should do?”
“I… I dunno…?”
At this point, only one path remained.
“She needs to actually get pregnant! For real! Her belly better be round in ten moons or she’s getting thrown out of the ducal sect!”
Helena’s plans for the day had already shifted multiple times.
From getting her daughter to become a duchess—
To marrying her off to a noble cultivator of impeccable character, good looks, immense wealth, and high spiritual standing—
To making sure this marriage endures by having Emelin conceive as soon as possible!
“She… she should get pregnant? Like,
actually
?”
Philip mumbled blankly while Helena set her wine cup down and gave him a wicked smile.
“That’s right. We need to find a way to push the two of them into
dual cultivation
! At any cost!”
Philip covered his ears, horrified.
“Augh! Mother, no! I do
not
want to hear those words coming out of your mouth!”
✵
✵
✵
The next morning.
Eric and I were summoned to the princess’s chamber the moment we woke.
Princess Ella had us sit and, with a smug look, began speaking.
“Well, in any case, it’s fortunate that both of you returned alive and whole… As for the healing spells and the palace physicians I summoned, you don’t need to thank me too much for spending all that spiritual currency on you…”
“I’m not thankful at all.”
I replied flatly to Ella’s shameless attempt to congratulate herself for healing us
after
locking us up in the first place.
Shocked at my bluntness, she elbowed Eric in disbelief.
“How rude… Your wife is
terribly
impudent…”
I can hear you, you know!
It was only then that I remembered—we were still inside the imperial palace.
If Ella slipped up and someone realized I wasn’t actually pregnant, I could be executed for deceiving the royal family.
I swallowed my anger just in time.
Eric, looking equally annoyed, spoke up.
“I trust you won’t imprison my wife and me again. It was nearly a disaster.”
Wife.
Oh, right. That’s what I am now. His wife.
The word still felt foreign, and I awkwardly fidgeted with my fingers.
Ella pouted but eventually nodded.
“Right. That could’ve been a disaster. Someone actually shattered the door with brute force, which means the repair bill won’t be light. And a fine Aura Sword Cultivator nearly had their meridians scrambled too, didn’t they?”
Someone shattered the door? And an aura cultivator’s body nearly wrecked?
I tilted my head in confusion. Did they use aura to force the door open?
Just as I was about to question the princess a little further, the servant pouring tea into my cup trembled and accidentally spilled it—right onto Eric’s hand. The moment it happened, the boy servant turned pale and dropped to his knees in terror.
“……”
Eric, completely unfazed, silently began unwrapping the bandages from his hand. Beneath them, faint hairline scars traced along the skin like fractured jade.
“Huh? It doesn’t look that bad.”
“The healing potion worked well,” Eric replied calmly.
“R-right… I-I guess…”
“It was worse yesterday.”
“...Sure it was…” I answered, not fully convinced, as I cast a glance at the trembling servant. Eric didn’t look all that injured, so what was that kid so terrified for?
I looked more closely at the servant’s lavender hair and the delicate face half hidden beneath it.
Just then, Ella spoke.
“Ah, he can’t speak. He’s a new servant I brought in, and, uh…”
Ella trailed off, but a familiar servant standing nearby—one with the same hair color as the kneeling one—stepped forward.
“He’s, uh, from my wife’s maternal cousin’s side…”
“So basically, a complete stranger,” I said flatly, glancing between the two.
“But why do they look so alike? Same hair, same eye color too.”
The kneeling servant trembled even more violently.
Ella let out a tired grunt and gestured to the standing servant, who quickly helped the kneeling one to his feet and led him away.
“Anyway, don’t worry about it. Whatever the truth, both of them will be leaving my palace healthy and intact. I even got word that my dear brother has arrived safely in the Northern Region…”
At the mention of her “brother,” Ella clenched her teeth, a scowl marring her face.
“…We need to resolve this Duke matter before that dimwit Robert earns even a shred of merit and tries to use it.”
“U-um…”
I waited for Ella to finish speaking, not wanting to interrupt her and be scolded again. I was going to mention the diary Eric had taken last night.
But before I could say a word, Eric quietly reached out and took my hand.
“…?”
I mean, I told him it was okay to hold my hand, but still—he really does it at the most random times.
“What? What were you going to say?” Ella asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
I glanced toward Eric. He must’ve guessed what I was about to bring up, because he gave a small shake of his head. Don’t mention the diary.
Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do with it right away anyway.
And besides, a lot of the entries were written in a messy scrawl that was nearly impossible to decipher. Since it belonged to Eric’s mother, it made sense for him to be the one to properly interpret it first.
I nodded subtly in understanding, and Eric spoke up in my place.
“I’ll find a way to reach the Grave of the Merfolk before the ten moons are complete. That is my vow.”
Ella clicked her tongue.
“Why not just get pregnant instead? Isn’t that simpler?”
It’s not. It’s really not.
‘No matter how I look at it, a rogue like her shouldn’t be the one sitting on the Dragon Throne…’
But backing that bastard Prince Robert, who’s colluding with the Duke? That wasn’t an option either.
I clenched my teeth, drowning in silent frustration.
Ella, oblivious—or maybe just pretending—flashed a teasing smile and added,
“Anyway, the two of you should start gathering intel from within the Duke’s estate. For that to happen, Lady Emelline Wedgewood… no,
Madam Emelline
needs to hold her ground. From what I’ve seen of your behavior, it wouldn’t take much for you to get labeled a disgrace and be tossed out.” Who’s calling who… a brute…?
Just then, Ella’s eyes gleamed as she muttered to herself,
“Seems I’ve found a new source of intel…”
Who knows what kind of schemes she’s spinning now.
Heavens, who can possibly follow the thoughts of those highborn cultivators?
But more than that—
I guess I’m really going to the ducal sect now.
Not as Emelin Wedgwood… but as Emelin Orléans.
Before I realized it, I clenched my fists tight.
Can I really endure this?
In this strange land ruled by these eccentric, power-hungry nobles?
Chapter 48