Chapter 7
I sat with my back to a large window.
Then I glanced over at Edward, whose clear face was bathed in warm sunlight.
His dark reddish-brown hair caught the light, gleaming faintly like crimson silk.
“Have you heard the rumors about Viscount Winstein abusing Prince Arnold?”
Edward, who had been staring blankly at a stack of papers on his desk, lifted his head.
He set the papers down, rested his chin on his hand, and sank into thought.
The calm, orderly way he organized his thoughts was admirable—but I couldn’t help wishing he’d organize that tangled mess of hair along with them.
If only he didn’t look so scruffy, Edward could actually be quite a handsome man.
The slightly drooping corners of his eyes gave him a faint air of melancholy, yet also made him look gentle and puppy-like.
And since many women were drawn to that kind of soft aura, Edward could be popular enough if he just dressed up a little.
“I’ve heard of it, yes. But Viscount Winstein is known publicly as a kind and upright man. That’s why most people dismiss the rumors as baseless.”
“Because there’s no proof?”
At my question, Edward tilted his head uncertainly.
“I only heard vague gossip… I think it’s because no one really cares about the Viscount or His Highness Arnold. Neither His Majesty nor Prince Heinrich pays them any attention.”
When I didn’t answer, Edward hesitated, then spoke again carefully.
“Would you like me to look into it?”
What a perfect empty promise. He even gestured at the mountain of paperwork piled high on his desk.
I smiled faintly.
He might be joking—but I wasn’t.
After all, I hadn’t been lying when I told Linus that I intended to find dirt on Viscount Winstein.
“That’s a fine idea. You’ll investigate, won’t you? Let’s find proof that Viscount Winstein abused Prince Arnold. Also, gather any other information you can about the Winstein family.”
That way, he wouldn’t dare try any funny business with me.
“Count, it’s the end of the year… are you sure that’s all right?”
Of course it was fine with me. It just wasn’t fine for Edward.
I shrugged, scrawled my approval signature on the flood restoration budget, and said,
“Of course. Perfectly fine.”
Edward’s lips parted, as if he had a dozen things he wanted to say—but he only sighed and buried his face in his hands after glancing at his own pile of documents.
Eventually, he’d bring me what I wanted. A man with his meticulous nature could never stand leaving loose ends untied.
Just then, the door to my office opened, and the butler, Fedrick, stepped in. He handed me the daily paper tucked under his arm, then exited without a word.
On the back pages of the Bordan Capital Times were always the opinion columns. Since I’d become Count Edyut, the number of mentions I received there had dropped—but I still made the front page at least once a week.
<Wenda’s Deep Dive! How Count Edyut Amasses Wealth – An Exposé on the Count’s Dubious Fortune-Building Methods>
“As if this nonsense would make me blink. The price of fame, I suppose.”
I folded the newspaper and tossed it straight into the trash bin.
Living as a villainess came with equal parts thrill and exhaustion.
“I’ve always wondered why Wenda keeps writing such drivel,” Edward muttered.
“Oh, right, Ed—you went to the same academy as that reporter, didn’t you?”
He shook his head.
“We were in different departments. Wenda was in the journalism faculty, and Angela and I were in law.”
At his words, I shuddered as I recalled Wenda, the so-called journalist who bordered on being my stalker.
If you stay quiet too long, people really start to think you’re harmless. Sometimes you have to flip the table just to remind them you’re not.
Maybe I should pay the newspaper director a little visit soon.
“P-please spare me, Count!”
A desperate voice cried from the bottom of a deep earthen pit. A middle-aged man, soaked by the rain, pleaded for his life.
Shaa…
The chilling silence was filled only by the sound of rainfall.
The knights who had been shoveling dirt over the trembling man stopped mid-motion.
I frowned in irritation and said coldly,
“What are you doing? Keep going. The ground’s nice and soft from the rain—it’ll make for a pretty suffocation.”
At my signal, the knights resumed their shoveling.
Wet clumps of soil thudded mercilessly onto the man’s head.
His terrified screams echoed through the mountain forest, unbroken by moonlight.
Standing beside me, my aide Edward looked uneasy.
“Are you truly going to bury him?”
“Yes. I mean what I say.”
I was Count Edyut, after all.
In the public eye, I was the kind of human trash even the gods had forsaken. No one expected good deeds from me.
That’s the convenience of being a villain—you never have to worry about maintaining a virtuous image.
Edward glanced at me, pale as paper, then gave a small nod.
“I knew you’d say that.”
He picked up a shovel from the ground, probably to help.
I took the umbrella from his hand and looked down at the mud splattered on my red shoes, clicking my tongue.
“P-please, Count, I beg you!”
The man shouted again, voice hoarse with terror—but he was saying the wrong words.
What I wanted to hear wasn’t a plea for mercy.
It was proof. Proof that Viscount Winstein had abused Linus.
“I heard that every time Viscount Winstein enters the palace, he stops to meet with you.”
I paused, waiting for an answer.
But the man only screamed louder. He had impressive lungs, I’ll give him that.
Edward’s report had been far more precise.
Winstein always visited Baron Cortnum’s estate before seeing Linus.
And if there was one house in the Lemangdinus Empire more reliable than the Edyut family when it came to information, it didn’t exist.
“I already know he buys a lot of medicine from your family. You’re Baron Cortnum, aren’t you? Then tell me—what exactly does Viscount Winstein buy from you?”
The man, who had been screaming mindlessly, suddenly froze.
A clod of mud fell squarely on his face.
“Pffft—phuh!”
He wiped his face with trembling hands.
I decided to scare him a little longer, gesturing for the knights to speed up.
Soon, the mud had reached his thighs. If only he’d confess already and save himself. Was he really planning to die here?
Now he just sobbed silently, too exhausted to fight back.
“You know, you won’t be the only one dying here tonight… You have a son, don’t you?”
The man convulsed in panic.
“N-no!! Not my son! Please, spare my son!”
“Still nothing to say besides ‘spare me’?”
He burst into tears, still silent. Hopeless.
I tossed away the umbrella, letting the cold rain soak me through.
The pit was filling with water now.
I took the shovel from Edward’s hands and threw another scoop of dirt into the hole.
Shaa—
The rain poured harder, blurring my vision. By now, I could barely hear the man’s voice through the storm.
After several minutes of relentless shoveling, the mud reached his abdomen.
“…There!”
The man’s faint voice was drowned by the rain. I dropped the shovel and crouched by the pit.
Buried up to his chest, he was bawling like a child.
“I’ll give it to you! The ledger! The record of everything Viscount Winstein bought—I’ll give it to you!”
Finally, I could make out his words.
I stood up.
“Dig him out.”
At my order, the knights stopped.
Daniel, who was at the front, rolled up his sleeves and hauled the man out.
Sobbing uncontrollably, the baron stumbled free from the pit.
The knights would take care of cleanup. I brushed off my clothes and started down the mountain, making sure to collect a written pledge from Baron Cortnum on the way.
“My heart nearly stopped. I really thought he was going to die for real. Maybe we shouldn’t do that too often.”
I pressed a hand to my chest, exhaling deeply as we descended.
“Most people wouldn’t even think about burying someone alive, Count.”
Edward hit me with brutal honesty.
Not true—people think about it all the time. Who hasn’t imagined shooting their boss once or twice?
“It’s not a matter of thought—it’s a matter of execution.”
“I’m relieved you understand that.”
Edward actually looked genuinely relieved as he sighed, still holding the umbrella over my head.
The rain was easing up now.
“You can put the umbrella down, I think—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
At the base of the mountain trail, a human silhouette flickered through the mist.
Even from a distance, the hair color stood out—platinum blond. Rare indeed.
“Doesn’t that look like someone we know?”
The moment I pointed, the figure collapsed to the ground.
Edward and I rushed over—only to find none other than Linus.
This was already the sixth “coincidental” encounter between the male lead and me.
When coincidences repeat this often, people call it fate.
At this rate, they might as well make me the heroine of this story.
I may be the villainess—but I’d make a damn good protagonist too.
