13.
Just before the divorce.
Her husband laid bare to the world the evidence that her grandfather had meddled in the guardianship trial of House Bayern to force their marriage—evidence forged by none other than herself.
As if that were not enough, he exposed her role as a loan shark preying upon the household servants.
The appointment of a Chief Justice was the sole prerogative of the Emperor.
And this Emperor placed utmost weight upon the moral obligations of the ruling class.
Any lapse in virtue by a Chief Justice—or by his direct kin—was a matter he regarded with the gravest seriousness.
Indeed, one of the very reasons the reigning Emperor had been able to consolidate his imperial authority lay in the people’s respect for his fair and benevolent character.
I was already out of favor with the Imperial Family after the scandal at the charity event…
It might have been possible to excuse her social misconduct as no more than the follies of a jealous woman, but usury against commoners could never be spun otherwise—it was pure exploitation of the lower classes.
Her husband reported the matter to the Imperial Court, questioning her grandfather’s very fitness to remain Chief Justice.
Deeply disappointed, the Emperor deposed him.
And thus came the downfall of House Taylor, once a ducal family of long and storied history.
Because her usury had delivered the final blow to her grandfather’s career, it was an issue that had to be rectified—whether or not she sought to regain her husband’s trust.
Seated on the sofa, Nina turned to Charles and the four other “songbirds,” who stood awkwardly before her.
“Come, all of you—take a seat.”
Perhaps because it was the first time she had ever offered them a place at her table,
they hesitated, glancing uncertainly at one another.
It was as though they feared that daring to sit across from their mistress might earn them a thunderous rebuke.
If I leave them be, they’ll probably keep standing there forever…
Suppressing a sigh, she spoke in a deliberately stern tone.
“How long do you intend to make me crane my neck up at you?”
“N–no, milady!”
Startled pale, the “songbirds” quickly took their seats.
“You can all read well enough that I need not explain the contents of these notes of hand, can you not?”
“Yes, but why would you…?”
As servants of a ducal household, they had at least some basic literacy.
Yet the debt contracts had been signed not by them but by their mothers, their siblings—
people who could neither read nor write.
…Which is why it’s time I set you free.
Nina placed a bundle of promissory notes on the table before them, along with a heavy purse.
“These are the notes of hand, and this—this is every coin of interest you have paid until now.
I intend to return it all.”
The five faces stiffened with bewilderment.
They had come ready to fall to their knees and beg for mercy, yet here was their mistress promising freedom from the shackles of debt.
They had known she’d been quiet of late, refraining from her usual outings—but wasn’t that simply because she was convalescing?
“M–milady, why are you suddenly…?”
Suspicion tinged their voices.
Perhaps she had some hidden motive.
Nina let out a long sigh.
She had learned through her husband that an apology alone was never enough to win back trust.
The same would be true here.
In that case, she only needed to give them a reason—something that made it natural for them to accept the money back without fear.
“There is a condition.”
“A… condition?
What sort of condition?”
“Merely this.
I want you to look into something for me.”
If she had up to a year before divorce, then at the very least she intended to make that year as comfortable as possible.
Attending social gatherings alongside her husband would be inevitable—but before that, it was necessary to weed out the unwanted elements.
“Is this… about His Grace?”
Charles asked hesitantly, his eyes wavering.
Nina shook her head.
“No.
This has nothing to do with the duke.
It seems someone has been carrying tales of our household beyond these walls.
In particular… to House Norde.”
Even granting that her scandals were too loud to contain entirely, something felt off.
Whenever she traced the origin of a rumor circulating in society, the Duchess of Norde was always at the end of the trail—like a salmon swimming upstream.
“Y–you mean… if we do only that, milady will truly erase our debts—and return every coin of interest we have already paid?”
Charles’ voice trembled with disbelief.
Nina answered softly, yet with weight.
“More than that.
Should you carry out my instructions faithfully, there will be additional rewards as well.”
In her previous life, it had been impossible to unmask the culprit when everyone closed ranks and denied all knowledge.
But now… if she freed them from the merciless snare of debt and even dangled further compensation—
She gazed into the desperate light flickering in her songbirds’ eyes, and her lips curved into a knowing smile.
***
“…She stopped playing the moneylender?”
“Yes.
Quiet inquiries revealed that Her Ladyship promised to return every coin they had paid—if only they could uncover the ones carrying tales of her to the outside.”
Carrying tales outside.
Every scandal she caused was enough to double the sales of the gossip rags.
An incident fit to be printed there was not something easily buried, even if every servant’s tongue were bound.
Unmasking the source would be no easy task.
After all, was there a single servant who had not whispered of her doings?
When Geoffrey’s report concluded, Ash fell silent for a moment before dismissing him.
“…You may go.”
Left alone, he placed his fountain pen on the desk with a sharp tak.
“…Tell me, what woman in this world could hear her husband confess that her body stirs nothing in him—and remain unshaken?”
The pallor of her face, the shadowed blue of her eyes, the droop of her shoulders, and that dampened voice—
The image of a wounded wife rose unbidden before him.
She too was someone capable of being hurt.
Perhaps it was that realization—that fleeting awareness he had spoken words he should never have uttered—that left a sour weight upon him.
“…I must have lost my mind.”
What did it matter if she was hurt?
What had that to do with him?
No—had she even been hurt at all?
The moment she reclaimed authority over the household, she sent her maid running to the dressmaker.
Some habits, it seemed, she had not shed.
He must have gone soft, tormented by her for so long.
The very thought that he had almost been deceived left him seething.
With a sharp, irritable motion, he raked a hand through his hair.
Knock, knock.
“It’s me.
May I come in?”
“…Enter.”
At his permission, a plump, white-haired man with thin silver spectacles stepped lightly into the room.
Baron Hoshi B.
Somerden
—his aide, who had been away on personal leave.
“Your Grace, I even brought a gift to mark my return.
Couldn’t you greet me with a little more warmth?”
What scheme is he plotting this time?
Ash frowned as he looked at Hoshi’s ever-smiling face.
“…What gift?”
At a glance, that genial smile might suggest a kindly disposition—but it was a dangerous mistake to be deceived.
Especially when those narrow eyes, sharp as a fox’s, thinned even further.
“A gift for Your Grace, who has yet to play the part of a proper son-in-law.”
Which could mean only one thing.
He was laying the groundwork for someone else’s misfortune.
“…A son-in-law, is it?
Don’t tell me you’ve uncovered some weakness of House Taylor.”
“A weakness?
Please, Your Grace, call it a gift instead.”
“Dress up treachery in pretty words, and it’s still treachery.
Enough nonsense—out with it.”
At Ash’s cold retort, Hoshi pursed his lips as if wounded, then finally spoke.
“There’s been… a complication with the supplies for the charity event.”
“A complication?”
“The storage is said to be crawling with pests.
The beans, the nuts—mold has already set in.”
The charity gala, held twice a year, was a duty of the nobility.
Royalty and high lords alike contributed either funds or goods, flaunting their wealth and prestige.
This year, Ash had pledged an enormous quantity of foodstuffs
—enough to feed ten thousand people.
For the poor, who often went days without a meal, even spoiled fare would be received with gratitude.
But at the charity gala, royalty and nobility dined on the very same food as the commoners.
It was His Majesty’s creed-a true leader must understand and share in the hardships of his people.
Of course, one could always prepare a separate menu for the royals and lords, but such trickery would not go unnoticed—and tongues would wag.
Ash’s expression darkened.
“There was no issue during inspection.
Did the problem arise in transit to the capital?”
“The weather has been most unkind this summer,” Hoshi replied smoothly.
“Endless rain, damp air—hardly ideal for storage.”
The provisions had been stored in the warehouse of House Bayern’s country estate,
where not only their own supplies but those of other noble houses were kept.
“…And what, pray, does this have to do with your so-called ‘gift’?”
Ash’s jaw tightened in irritation, only for Hoshi to smile slyly.
“Because the one who caused this… was none other than Viscount Courtney.”
At the mention of a familiar house, Ash’s ash-gray eyes gleamed with sudden sharpness.