Winter (5)

“And then?”

Octavia spoke softly, her voice warm with goodwill.

And then what—was that all?

Pierre couldn’t bring himself to spit out the truth he mustn’t reveal.

Drowsiness flooded his mind in an instant, and his vision blurred more and more.

Feeling bewildered, he was dragged under.

“Why am I suddenly so sle—”

Pierre tipped over onto the ornate bench sofa.

“…….”

Octavia set down the teacup she had been holding.

The tea in her cup had not diminished at all.

A shop clerk approached and collected the cup and teapot.

Octavia left gold coins on the table and rose to her feet.

A clerk who came to clear the remaining plates would take them.

As Octavia stepped out of the dessert shop, neatly dressed men approached her.

“My lady.”

“He’s inside. Take him.”

“Yes.”

Octavia crossed the street and watched the dessert shop.

Three men entered and brought Pierre out.

They skillfully supported him and lifted him into a carriage.

To a passerby, it looked as natural as friends carrying along a companion who had fallen asleep.

“Idiot. You caused trouble and you don’t even have a shred of crisis awareness. Goodbye, Pierre.”

Octavia greeted the departing carriage.

She went into a nearby card shop and bought an elegant card.

Octavia sent the card to House Gique and strolled leisurely out of the shopping district.

The next morning, Pierre Gique opened his eyes in an unfamiliar place.

An unknown ceiling spread out before him.

More than that, his body felt excessively cold, and the blanket’s texture against his skin was different from usual, leaving him confused.

Where am I? Where’s Octavia? Why am I….

Countless questions swept through his mind.

But he had no time to think deeply.

“Hello, sweetheart?”

A sultry voice rang by his ear.

When he turned his head, a naked woman was smiling at him.

She had a pretty face, but the heavy eye makeup hinted at her temperament.

“Who…?”

Pierre realized why he felt so cold.

Like the woman, he wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“Sweetheart, I searched your pockets and you didn’t have a single coin.”

The woman’s smile twisted into something much more vicious.

Pierre had been carrying no small amount of gold.

There was no way “not a single coin” could be true.

“I-I’m sorry!”

But the apology came out first, by instinct.

Not even caring that he was naked, Pierre scrambled out of the unfamiliar place and fled.

“Where do you think you’re going!?”

The woman with the frightening eye makeup shouted viciously after the naked Pierre as he ran.

Fearing she might chase, Pierre ignored everything and tore down the creaking stairs in an instant.

“Bwahahaha! Look at that bastard!”

“You came to a place like this without money? Shameless!”

Men sitting in what looked like the shop’s first floor cackled and pointed at him as he ran.

Pierre didn’t know where he was, but he decided to get out first.

He ran like a madman.

“Hey! You think running makes it over, you son of a bitch!”

The woman came out onto the second-floor terrace and screamed savagely at Pierre as he fled.

Pierre jumped onto a passing carriage.

As if used to this sort of thing, the coachman took the naked passenger and whipped the horses into a fast run.

“Where do you think you’re going!?”

Watching the carriage speed away, the woman who had been shouting soon burst into shrill laughter.

“…Maybe ‘not a single coin’ was too much. It was a lie, and he didn’t even argue—Sir Pierre Gique. The Count’s son really is stupid. Lucky for me. Still, it’s so pathetic, what do I do.”

She laughed for a long while more, then returned to her room.

A little later.

A single sketch was posted beneath the Redrock sign.

Next to it was a paper explaining that yesterday Pierre Gique had fled without paying the room fee—and something even more important.

To prove his identity, Redrock also pinned up the clothes Pierre had left behind, along with his squire identification card.

The tavern Redrock was a place only the shadiest types frequented in Baden.

It hung out a tavern sign, but no one failed to know Redrock sold far more than that.

If it became known someone visited Redrock, their reputation plunged to a horrific degree.

A rumor that Redrock was “looking for Pierre Gique” spread through Baden in an instant.

At the same time, Pierre Gique’s conduct—and House Gique’s name—fell straight to the bottom.

Meanwhile, the story about the Grand Duchess of Tessen and Pierre Gique that had spread just yesterday was treated as baseless gossip.

If his status had been even slightly easier to trample, she would have been gossiped about as being entangled with a filthy man.

But Pierre Gique’s behavior was hitting rock bottom, and there was no known point of contact between him and the Grand Duchess of Tessen—only rumors.

In high society, scandals were everyday fare, but if you spread palace-related rumors carelessly, blood could be spilled.

Above all, behind the Grand Duchess of Tessen stood the Rain Family and the Grand Duke of Tessen.

The Grand Duke of Tessen was someone who could devastate Baden society all by himself.

So everyone treated the rumors involving Alicia as thorough nonsense.

Count Gique became half the man he had been in a single day.

While trying to suppress the rampant rumors in society, he ordered his son Pierre—who had damaged the family—to be confined.

Normally he would have allowed him to move freely within his residence, but the situation was so severe he forbade him from leaving even his private bedroom.

Outside, every sort of talk was swirling.

Even within House Gique, reactions were bad.

Some argued Pierre should be stripped of heir status and expelled from the family for disgracing it.

In times like this, it was best to avoid going out.

Count Gique wanted to do the same.

But at daybreak, he went to the imperial palace’s Tatus Tower.

He could not refuse the Grand Duke of Tessen’s summons.

Not only he, but no imperial noble could easily defy the Grand Duke of Tessen’s command.

Even as he worried, a corner of Count Gique’s heart hoped he might receive help from the Grand Duke of Tessen.

Among society nobles, when someone was entangled in an awkward rumor, there were times they helped each other—publicly displaying closeness to calm the talk.

The Grand Duke who received Count Gique said nothing.

He communicated only with a hand gesture to the count who bowed.

Following that gesture, the Grand Duke’s aide spoke to the count.

“Please, have some.”

A properly formal tea time was peaceful and quiet.

Reichardt said nothing and only drank tea with refined grace.

Even among meetings between royalty and nobility, there were meetings like this.

Given the circumstances, Count Gique did not take the lead first, and meekly followed the Grand Duke’s pace.

Just as the tea was nearly finished.

“I’ll commend your courage, Count.”

Reichardt set down his teacup and spoke elegantly.

It did not sound like an unpleasant remark.

“Your Grace, courage? You flatter me.”

Count Gique offered modesty to keep the atmosphere pleasant.

“To drink without a single suspicion, though the tea might contain poison—one might call that courage.”

At Reichardt’s words, Count Gique carefully set down the teacup he had been holding.

The tea-time atmosphere froze instantly.

If a royal decided to, poisoning a single noble and escaping under the excuse of “a mistake” was no great feat.

For the Grand Duke of Tessen, it would be even simpler.

“I recently acquired a special mount. Have you heard?”

“…Yes, I have heard…”

At Reichardt’s words, Count Gique’s face turned deathly pale.

Rumors were rampant that lately the Grand Duke rode a creature from hell.

Everyone kept quiet, but more than a few had seen a vast, black monster.

“It’s called Lusa.”

“I see.”

Reichardt kindly chatted about his daily life.

Count Gique tried not to stammer.

Even if he couldn’t show fondness, he strained not to show revulsion or dislike.

“Count, would you like to be thrown into the Lusa ranch?”

Reichardt said it with a bright smile.

Count Gique suddenly coughed dryly.

“Cough! Y-Your Grace…”

According to rumors, the creature called Lusa was several times larger than a horse.

Even if you were thrown into an ordinary horse ranch, you might not survive—so to be thrown into a monster’s ranch…

It was no different from saying he would kill him.

Count Gique looked at Reichardt with terror in his face.

“Mind yourself, so no foolish words come out.”

“I-I will remember.”

“No need to be so scared. It’s not like I dragged you off and threw you into the Lusa ranch right away. Don’t tremble over a few words and start babbling nonsense.”

Reichardt had spoken with a radiant smile, but at the end he whispered with an ominous face.

“Yes, yes. I will remember.”

Count Gique forgot even what etiquette was and nodded repeatedly.

“I’ll be watching. You may go. It was a fine tea time.”

With that, Reichardt rose and left the tea room.

“…Hah.”

Only after the Grand Duke vanished did Count Gique finally gasp for air.

Unlike Reichardt’s remark that it had been a fine tea time, for him it had been a bone-chilling tea time.

Fearing what might happen if he stayed any longer, the count hurried away.

Outside, bright sunshine poured down.

“Well done. You warned him thoroughly, so he’ll understand. There’s no need to dirty your hands with people like that.”

Roderick praised Reichardt enthusiastically as he followed him toward the office.

The corridor had been cleared in advance at Reichardt’s order—there wasn’t a soul left.

“…….”

Reichardt did not answer and only walked quickly.

“Your Grace, you weren’t serious about the Lusa ranch, were you? You must not be. If the Lusa get involved in an incident, wouldn’t there be trouble for the Lusa themselves? Right?”

Roderick was quick on his feet, but to keep up with Reichardt when he chose to walk fast required real effort.

Reichardt walked at an astonishing pace.

Roderick clung on stubbornly.

Then Reichardt stopped short.

“You said there was an issue in the archipelago south of the Southern Continent, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Among the Southern Continent’s affiliated islands, a dispute has broken out in the Haban Islands, and it has become a problem.”

Roderick answered diligently, though he wondered why he was suddenly being asked.

“Submit an agenda item to send an investigative delegation.”

At Reichardt’s reply, Roderick immediately realized who would be sent as that “delegation.”

To the Southern Continent took days upon days by ship—and to the Haban Islands, even farther below, it would take months by sea.

Sea routes had grown safer, but compared to land travel there were countless variables, and it was dangerous.

“…Yes.”

A powerful man in love was this dangerous.