MEBD 04

Chapter 04

The Marquisate of Wiltière (3)

The Marquis’s outstretched hand.

In that instant, a single possibility flashed across Berenice’s mind.

What if the thief who stole my brother’s sword wasn’t a thief at all—but my father?

And what if her father had already uncovered the secret hidden within that sword—
the very secret she had yet to discover?

The thought that this secret might have led him to his death sent chills down her spine.

“Did you take that from Bledin’s chamber last night?”

Instead of answering, Berenice unconsciously hunched her shoulders and hugged the sword tightly against her chest.

“How did you know that?”

It was Lowell who spoke up for her.
With a mix of concern and surprise in his eyes, he looked back and forth between his father and his twin sister before continuing,

“Father, did you… also go to Brother’s room?”

“I did.”

“Ah…”

Hearing her brother’s sigh, Berenice’s suspicions deepened.

Her father, who was said to have taken his own life.
But no one in the Wiltière household had ever truly believed that.
They only doubted—

Who murdered the Marquis and made it look like a suicide?

The answer to that question had surfaced later, through documents Lowell discovered at the lord’s manor.
According to them, the Marquis had found some clue about the mystery surrounding Bledin’s death,
and while pursuing that lead, he was killed—and his death disguised as suicide.

But what exactly that clue was… Berenice never managed to uncover, not even up to the day she chose death in her previous life.

Father found something hidden within this sword. And that’s what got him killed.

If that was true, she must never hand this sword over to him.

“Nia, give your father the sword.”

“…No.”

Berenice tightened her grip on the weapon and shook her head quickly.

Seeing this, the Marchioness sighed softly and spoke.

“Berenice.”

“It’s fine, my lady,” said the Marquis calmly.

“But we can’t just let Nia keep Bledin’s sword—Nia, please…”

“Mother,” Lowell interrupted hastily, “Berenice isn’t trying to keep Brother’s sword. She just wants to hold onto it for a while and return it herself. Right, Nia?”

Lowell’s intervention stopped their mother from pressing further.
Catching his urging glance, Berenice nodded obediently, just as the “younger self” of this time period would have done.

“When we return to the estate… I’ll give it back to Brother myself.”

“She already promised me that.”

Though the twins often bickered like cats and dogs, when it truly mattered, they always stood by each other.

Berenice glanced at Lowell gratefully before turning her eyes toward the Marquis, who had been silently observing.

“…Do as you wish.”

“But, dear—”

“Nia won’t handle Bledin’s sword carelessly. Let her keep it for now.”

At her husband’s words, the Marchioness turned toward her daughter again and exhaled another sigh.

Her white-streaked hair and amber eyes shimmered faintly with worry—
She was afraid her daughter would lose the sword.

Lowell, who had been trained as the heir after their eldest brother Bledin chose the path of a knight,
at least knew his place and exercised restraint.
But Berenice—the Marquisate’s beloved daughter—had always adored her eldest brother excessively.

Now that the brother she had loved more than her parents had returned home not alive, but dead,
her grief was immeasurable.

The Marchioness mistook her daughter’s fear and nodded softly.

“Nia, promise me you won’t do anything reckless with that sword.”

“Berenice isn’t that foolish, Mother,” Lowell said quickly.

Normally, that remark would have sparked another quarrel,
but today Berenice only lowered her eyes quietly and nodded.

The rest of breakfast passed in silence.

As the first funeral in the capital had not yet ended,
the meal was modest—and not a single smile could be found at the table.

Afterward, with grief hanging thick in the air, the family dispersed to their respective rooms,
skipping the usual tea time.

“Young lady, guests will be arriving soon.”

Nadia approached Berenice, who sat blankly on the sofa, staring down at Bledin’s sword.

She hadn’t wanted to face Marianne, whose very presence grated her nerves,
so she’d sent her off on an unnecessary errand. Only Nadia remained by her side.

“What about the Imperial Knights?”

“A quiet message arrived—they’ll attend on the final day.”

“…Maybe that’s for the best.”

“My lady?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

It wasn’t strange for the Imperial Knights to come pay respects at the funeral of Prince Bledin’s personal guard.
But the timing—that was the issue.

Even back then, they came only on the final night, slipping in secretly to avoid attention,
bowed once, and left without a word.

She knew the reason.

Because her brother’s death was not considered honorable.

At the time, she had cried bitterly, shouting that it wasn’t Bledin’s fault that the Crown Prince took his own life.
But now, thinking back on everything that happened afterward—
she almost preferred their coldness.

They desecrated the family crypt with magic tools, shattered Brother’s remains,
and discarded them somewhere no one could ever find.

All because he had been branded a traitor who murdered the Crown Prince.

Three months after the second funeral, rumors began to spread.
Three more months later, the Imperial Palace launched an official investigation.

Had it not been for the Wiltière family’s wealth and long-standing influence,
they would have been ruined overnight.

Though in the end, even that was stripped away—
by Count Blaise and the Empress.

But now… I still have time.

Before her death in her previous life, Berenice had devoted every waking moment
to uncovering the truth behind Bledin’s death.

She had gathered considerable information,
but she never reached the heart of the conspiracy that lurked behind it all.

But this time, the starting point is different.

In her past life, she was powerless and ignorant.
Now, she was neither.

Berenice rose from the sofa, clutching Bledin’s sword,
and made her way to her private study.

“Don’t let anyone come in.”

“What if guests arrive?”

“Tell them I’m too grief-stricken to receive anyone.
If that doesn’t work, say I’m ashamed of how I look since my hair turned white overnight,
and I don’t wish to be seen by anyone.”

“…Understood.”

It was already well-known throughout the capital—
that the Wiltière family’s precious daughter had gone white-haired from shock at her brother’s death.

Given that, even such a flimsy excuse would surely be believed.

Leaving Nadia’s worried gaze behind,
Berenice entered the study, locked the door, and sat at her desk.

She placed a stack of blank paper and Bledin’s sword upon it.

She wouldn’t begin acting until after the second funeral,
but before that, she needed to organize everything—
what had happened, and what must come next.

The Death of Brother Bledin

The moment she wrote that title across the top of the page, her chest ached.
Tears threatened to fall, but Berenice bit her lip and forced her hand to keep writing.

From morning until after sunset, her pen never stopped moving.

When Nadia silently came in to light the candles,
their long shadows stretched across the room as Berenice placed the final period and exhaled deeply.

Some memories were painfully vivid,
others so faded that she could no longer recall them clearly.
But that didn’t matter.

She had organized enough to make her plan solid.
She knew life never went exactly according to plan—
but experience had taught her how great the difference was between having one and not.

“The beginning must be the estate.”

Reviewing the densely written pages several times,
she committed every detail to memory,
then carried the stack to the brazier beside her desk.

Though she had written it all down to remember and plan,
she had no intention of leaving any trace behind.

No one must ever know.

At winter’s edge, the embers within the brazier devoured the pages one by one,
each sheet curling into flame as the red fire flared brightly.