Here’s the English translation of the text you provided (Chapter 79 of I Hope to Be the Tyrant’s Hidden Benefactor):
Most of the time he only stopped by in the evening, so there was no chance of running into him. But today was during the day, so this was the first time I’d faced him.
I tilted my head at the way he pretended to know me.
“What kind of things have you heard?”
“I heard the two of you are truly as affectionate as family. With the duke’s illness worsening, it must weigh heavily on your heart.”
“It did weigh on me. But I’m fine now.”
I smiled brightly—like a flower laced with poison.
“Because I know the cause.”
“…Pardon?”
“Don’t play dumb. You would-be murderer.”
I quickly gave Mion a glance. The tiger beast, far stronger than any human, restrained Jacques Lorenzo with ease, controlling his strength so it looked effortless.
“Argh! What are you doing?!”
“Shh, you’ll wake the old man. Keep quiet.”
I fluttered the analysis chart of the medicine—given to me by Dean Delano—in front of his face.
“What do you think this is?”
“…That’s!”
I glanced at the bed where Duke Dinero lay asleep.
“Shall I kill you here and now? Or let you live?”
For him to stand there and console me about the very illness he caused…
Such shamelessness—it was almost laughable.
At my words, Jacques Lorenzo immediately dropped to his knees.
“P-please, spare me! Let’s talk somewhere more private…!”
He must have realized that if Duke Dinero learned of this, he’d be dead. His pale, trembling face said it all. He kept glancing nervously toward the duke, as though afraid he might wake up any second.
‘Quick at judging the situation, at least.’
Just like that, paper-thin pride crumpled, and his knees kissed the floor.
‘Of course, Delano’s verification made all the difference.’
Delano Curtis.
The empire’s foremost authority in pharmacology. His words in the field of medicine carried absolute trust—imperial court included.
I leaned in and whispered,
“Now wipe your snot and tears, and follow me naturally.”
Mion released Jacques’s restraints and gave a nod.
‘So, it really is Penelope.’
Jacques, still sniffling, wiped his face with his sleeve and staggered to his feet.
I cast him a cold look before leaving the bedchamber.
‘Quick to kill others, but terrified of dying yourself, huh.’
In the parlor, Jacques’s knees met the floor again.
“Those knees of yours sure are cheap.”
“Please, please, keep this from the duke!”
“Which one?”
“…What?”
“Do you mean Duke Dinero?”
I crouched, meeting his frightened eyes.
“Or do you mean Duke Penelope? Better be clear.”
“H-how did you…!”
“How I know doesn’t matter. Answer.”
I grabbed the few strands of hair left on his head and yanked.
“Want me to rip out the rest too?”
“N-no! Please, both of them—keep it secret from both!”
“What a shame. You can only choose one.”
My tone showed not a shred of pity. His face shifted from red to blue to pale, a rainbow of despair. Since he still didn’t answer, I stood up with a cheerful shout.
“Alright~ let’s go! To Duke Penelope’s estate!”
“Aagh! N-no, Duke Penelope?!”
“Oh? Then let’s go! To Duke Dinero’s bedchamber!”
“O-on second thought, Duke Dinero!”
At my side, Mion grimaced, shaking his head as if the whole thing disgusted him.
“What are you even doing? Are you playing games with me?”
Jacques, sweating buckets, stammered, “N-no, not at all!”
“Then should I just spill everything to both of them?”
“Please, anything but that! I’ll do whatever you ask!”
Now he was well roasted—ripe for my purpose.
“Really? Anything?”
“Yes! I’ll even serve as a mere attendant if you wish!”
“I already have attendants far better than you.”
“O-of course. Hahaha.”
His laugh was awkward, and I gazed at him with icy eyes.
“You were planted here as Duke Penelope’s spy, weren’t you?”
“Well…”
“Alright then, let’s go!”
“Y-yes! Yes, it’s true!”
The moment I stepped forward, he clutched at my skirt hem, blurting desperately.
“S-so please, could you stop with the ‘let’s go’ thing…”
“That’s not for you to comment on. You’ve admitted you’re a spy, yes?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then how about switching careers—to double agent?”
“…What?”
I sighed deeply. I thought he was quick-witted, but apparently not.
“Yes! I’ll do it! Just tell me what to bring you!”
I smirked wickedly.
“First, let’s practice lying.”
After all, there was no easier way to cloud an enemy’s vision than with false reports.
Once matters were wrapped up, I placed the antidote—received from Dean Delano—on Duke Dinero’s bedside table.
‘Old man, you’re good at pretending to sleep.’
He hadn’t been asleep at all; he’d heard everything. The way his lips twitched at Jacques’s pleading gave it away.
On the carriage ride back, Mion yanked off his wig. Silky white hair cascaded like strands of silver.
“What are you, really? Why are you so good at blackmail?”
Mion scratched his head roughly, glaring at me—or rather, at the small recording magic tool in my hand.
“What if he loses his temper and tries to poison the old man again?”
Before we left, I had played the recording back to Jacques. It was a warning: if he tried anything against the duke, I’d send the evidence straight to Duke Penelope. Jacques’s face had turned black with dread.
“It’s just basic insurance.”
I’d seen too much during my years working in wartime sales. The company even had an internal directive: all client calls must be recorded, no exceptions.
“…I’m glad you’re not my enemy.”
Mion shook his head as if I gave him headaches.
“So, still no memory of what you read?”
“…None.”
But his face stiffened.
There was no way I wouldn’t notice he was hiding something. Beasts like him showed emotions more transparently than humans.
“Tell me what it is. It worries me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. So stay out of it.”
Mion avoided my gaze, and I frowned.
“That means it does have to do with you. And if it’s about you, how could it not affect me?”
His expression shifted, as though unsure what face to wear. After a moment of thought, he finally said:
“I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
Then he shut his mouth. So now wasn’t the time?
‘If he ends the conversation like this, I can’t press further…’
I awkwardly turned my gaze out the window.
‘Strange.’
Mion was strange. In the past few years, his expression had darkened, his words had grown fewer. He acted indifferent to everything, yet occasionally lashed out.
Like someone secretly suffering inside.
‘I wish he’d tell me what it is.’
My chest felt heavy. After all these years together, he felt almost like family to me.
The sky above was bright and blue. A cool breeze whispered that autumn was near.
A beautiful castle, white and gray as though dusted with snow.
Since the incident fifteen years ago, it had stood empty. Now, for the first time in ages, life returned to it.
No—life, and noise.
Every journalist in the empire had traveled north, camping in front of the castle newly bestowed upon him.
“When will the Marquis Blake arrive…?”
The twenty-one-year-old hero, risen overnight from commoner to noble.
They were desperate for even a single line of interview.
A scrap of his words would guarantee a paper’s annual revenue.
It was no exaggeration to say all of society’s attention was fixed on him.
“You can’t leave your baggage here! Move it elsewhere, please!”
A young man, newly hired as butler, busily directed the workers hauling luggage.
Spotting Lennox entering through the back gate, the butler brightened and hurried over.
“My lord, where shall we designate your office?”
“I’ll use the original one.”
“Yes, this way, we’ll set up your desk—!”
Though the formal investiture hadn’t yet taken place, all the privileges of his title had already been granted. The castle was one of them.
Inside, Lennox ran his hand slowly along a window frame.
There were still faint bloodstains not yet cleaned away. He stared at them, then raised his gaze to the castle’s interior.
The structure was strangely familiar.
