The second thing I did with Grand Duke Richard’s handwritten power of attorney was this—spraying pesticide on the parasites feeding off Elena’s life.
“W-wait, officers… A-assaulting a noble? That’s absurd!”
Elena’s brother, arms twisted and bound behind his back, looked completely baffled by the situation.
“We received a report that two commoners assaulted a noble named Elena Richard in this house.”
“R-Richard?! That’s impossible! That girl is just a lowly commoner! She’s my daughter!”
Likewise restrained, Elena’s father blinked and looked back and forth between me and the officers. One of them glanced at me and, with a voice tinged with doubt, asked,
“Hmm… Are you really Elena… Richard?”
It must’ve been because my ragged appearance didn’t match what he expected of a noble. As the officer furrowed his brow in suspicion, the two men hurriedly plastered their faces with obsequiousness.
“You must be mistaken! The only Richard I know is the one currently in prison!”
“That girl’s clearly lying. She’s always been a liar—this was just more of the same, and we were disciplining her!”
Unbelievably, the officers began to nod along as if they agreed with that nonsense and moved to untie the two.
‘Unbelievable—these so-called police officers!’
I widened my eyes. Whether I was a noble or not, the domestic violence happening right before them was undeniable—and yet they accepted ’discipline‘ as an excuse?
I pulled out the marriage certificate from inside my coat and held it in front of my so-called father and brother. Then, deliberately, in a cold tone, I recited:
“Imperial Criminal Code, Article 262, Clause 1: Any commoner who assaults a noble shall be severely punished.”
“……!”
Then I turned sharply toward the officers and shoved the document in their faces.
“Imperial Criminal Code, Article 262, Clause 2: Those who witness such an act and fail to take action shall also be severely punished.”
Their jaws dropped at the sight of the official document bearing the seal of the Empire.
My name, Elena Richard, was clearly recorded in the newly updated noble registry, which had been revised when I submitted the marriage registration to the Grand Duke. Thankfully, thanks to the male lead of the novel—Crown Prince Lawrence—marrying the commoner Vivian, the law had been amended to allow commoners to gain noble status through marriage. Vivian’s father had even been granted the title of Baron as a result.
Elena’s father screamed.
“You really married that… that killer Grand Duke?!”
“As you can see. And he has many strong and loyal subordinates. I’m sure he wouldn’t be pleased to hear his wife is being treated like this.”
They clearly interpreted that as a warning that I might have them killed using the Grand Duke’s men. Their faces turned ashen. Of course, in truth, he wouldn’t lift a finger for a fake wife like me.
Next, I turned to the flustered officers who didn’t seem to know what to do.
“Police Bureau, Civil Safety Division. Badge number 11349, born February 4th, age 27—Smith Leonard Smith. And badge number 10447, born April 17th, age 32—Theodore Peters. Your superior is Gerard Cooper, badge number 9913.”
“W-what? How do you know our personal information?!”
I had casually memorized their details during my last visit to the precinct. Finally, I whispered the magic words that would get public servants to move.
“If you don’t arrest these offenders right now, I’ll file a complaint. Every. Single. Day.”
The moment those words fell, the officers lunged at Greg and Cain to arrest them.
* * *
The next day.
In the dim, musty visitation room, I sat face-to-face with Grand Duke Benedict Richard—my husband.
“The marriage registration has been successfully submitted. We’re now legally and officially husband and wife.”
“……”
He just stared at me silently. But his eyes, slightly gentler than yesterday, made me smile softly as well.
“We’re on the same boat now, escaping hell together. Let’s get along, okay?”
“…What happened to your face?”
Instead of clasped hands, I got an unexpected question. I awkwardly rubbed my bruised cheekbone—still blue from the beating I took from my family.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just had a bit of trouble getting rid of the pests at home.”
Rather than explain everything, I brushed it off. I had used the Grand Duke’s name to threaten both the police and my family. I couldn’t let him find out I’d dragged his name into something unrelated to the trial—that would be a breach of contract. I quickly changed the subject.
“Let’s talk about the trial. You’re currently accused of stabbing and killing the Crown Princess Vivian’s father with a dagger.”
“Hah. You sound quite like a real lawyer now.”
“That’s because I am a real lawyer.”
“You lie without batting an eye.”
“At the very least, I am your lawyer.”
He let out a faint sigh, as if he’d given up. Naturally, it wouldn’t be easy for him to see me as a lawyer right now, so he probably still thought I was lying.
I shrugged. Whether or not the client believed in me didn’t matter—as long as I won in court.
Spinning a pen between my fingers, I looked at the Grand Duke.
“Alright. Then, as your lawyer, let me start with the most important question.”
A faint tension passed between us across the small table. I took a deep breath and asked:
“Do you love Vivian?”
Grand Duke Benedict Richard’s expression cracked for the first time at the unexpected question. He remained silent for a long moment, and I stared at him while recalling the original novel.
‘Oops, did I hit too sensitive a spot?’
According to the story, Richard, born as the Emperor’s illegitimate child, had lived a lonely life with no one to lean on. Vivian, the sunny female lead, was the one who appeared in his life like light. He already felt inferior to Lawrence, the Emperor’s legitimate son and male lead—and when he lost Vivian to Lawrence, he lashed out, causing strife between them. Eventually, after the novel’s ending, he killed Vivian’s father.
After what felt like deep thought, he finally parted his lips.
“No.”
Good. That’s the right answer.
I nodded with satisfaction. Whether it was the truth or not, the answer he needed to give in court was ‘No.’
It was probably true, anyway. In a place like prison, where your life teeters on the edge, love hardly seems like a concern. Even eternal love freezes on the cold floor of a cell.
“Very good. Then let me ask differently.”
I moved on to the next question:
“Did you ever love Vivian?”
The reason I kept checking his love was because of the motive for ‘murder.’
Motive is very important in defending against a murder charge. The outcome of the trial varies greatly depending on whether the motive was accidental, planned, or whether there were extenuating circumstances.
The case of a child who was abused and accidentally killed their parents cannot be viewed in the same way as the case of a child who killed their parents simply because they refused to lend them money for gambling.
In any case, he was accused of murdering Vivian’s father. If he still loved Vivian at the time of the incident, it could be seen as a crime of passion based on the distorted hatred of a man who had lost his love. It seemed that the police had already come to that conclusion.
“No.”
His immediate answer, without a trace of hesitation, made me smile gently. This was exactly why clients needed defense attorneys. After all, trials were little more than theater—gathering scattered testimony and evidence to create the most convincing story.
“This time you got it wrong. In a trial, you don’t have to be honest, but a lie that’s too obvious leaves a bad impression. It could undermine the credibility of your other statements.”
Since his love for Vivian was somewhat of an open secret, it would help to acknowledge some of it, even if it worked against us. I kindly suggested the ideal response.
“You should say, ‘I once loved her, but after she married Crown Prince Lawrence, I let her go completely.’ That way, at the time of the incident, you weren’t in love with her anymore.”
Got it? I gave him a wink and was about to cheerfully move on when his firm voice cut in.
“I have never loved Vivian. Not even for a moment.”
Clatter.
The pen I had been spinning fell from my hand.
Ah, now that… changes things a bit.
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