Episode 8
“Fine. Let’s say that’s true.”
Baudouin shook his head like he couldn’t deal with it anymore. Lazar, who had been leaning back casually, now rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.
“But this so-called great first love—are you saying your wife isn’t your first love? I should go tattle to Thérèse.”
“N-No! Thérèse is my first love!”
Baudouin frantically waved his hands. Lazar burst into laughter.
Caught up again in Lazar’s teasing, Baudouin ground his teeth in frustration.
“But one of the lord’s sons is engaged to some noblewoman, and the other one—his supposed fiancée is that young lady, right? You’re not playing with fire, are you?”
Lazar’s teal eyes turned cold.
“It’s odd for you to be that close just for intelligence gathering. Normally you turn down noble ladies outright, saying you were raised in a monastery and are all about celibacy, remember? And when they won’t give up, you threaten them by saying your brother will kill them. Earning points with the old ladies by helping them with chores—that’s more your style…”
Noticing Lazar’s darkening expression, Baudouin quickly tried to change the subject.
“Uh—about the nuts in the breakfast. The maid we bribed was right. He reacted.”
“His hands just swelled a bit. That’s nothing. We’ll have to increase the dose.”
“They’ll probably throw a feast to celebrate the successful hunt. Wouldn’t that be a good time to strike?”
Feasts attracted attention—too much. It would’ve been easier if Ovid had just died in the woods. But now things were getting complicated.
Lazar was disappointed the target wasn’t Fabrice. If it were, he could’ve taken Desirée away without question. But the client wanted Ovid dead. Fabrice didn’t care for him either, but not to the point of murder.
“Well, fine. Let’s go with that.”
Lazar exhaled, clearly dissatisfied.
He had considered staging a fake kidnapping disguised as a bandit raid. But convincing Desirée—who was so straight-laced—would take time, so he discarded the idea.
Her unexpected proposal in the forest had been a pleasant surprise. It stung a little, though, because it seemed she said it without any real feeling.
He had fallen for her at first sight because of her integrity. Back then, she had saved him too. The golden eyes that stood in place of the sun were the same as nine years ago.
“Hasn’t changed a bit.”
“What hasn’t?”
Baudouin asked.
“My reason for coming all the way here is now even more clear.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain once things progress a little.”
Showing weakness wouldn’t help him appear as someone desirable enough to fall in love with.
Instead, Lazar hoped at least he’d stirred some sympathy.
* * *
“Long live the lord!”
A banquet was held to celebrate the successful hunt. No commoners were present, aside from the servants—this wasn’t an event on the scale of a wedding or funeral.
The lord and his wife sat at the head of the long table. Their two sons sat at either corner adjacent to the head seats. The table was filled with meat from the hunt, wine, bread, and fruit.
“Come on now, everyone—cheers!”
The lord offered some ceremonial toast. Desirée lifted her glass with a blank expression.
Her seat was next to Fabrice. She wished she could be sitting at the opposite end of the table, but that wasn’t an option.
At least he wasn’t chatting her ear off. Fabrice was too busy talking nonsense with the lady of the house. Desirée grimaced as he sprayed crumbs and saliva while laughing.
“Miss, would you like more cheese?”
A maid approached.
Desirée shook her head.
Fabrice’s noisy eating had made her stomach turn. She couldn’t rest her chin rudely on her hand, so she just picked at her food.
“I don’t have time for this.”
She muttered to herself. Since this wasn’t a quick meal, the banquet stretched on. It felt like a waste of time just sitting there.
“When is dessert coming?”
Fabrice asked the lord.
The lady of the house answered instead.
“Should I have them bring it early?”
“Yes.”
Fabrice immediately agreed. One of the maids stepped closer.
“You there—Alice, was it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bring me any kind of sweets.”
Alice quickly left the banquet hall.
She seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking in Ovid’s direction.
Desirée noticed Alice seemed uneasy and kept watching her.
Then Alice whispered to someone just outside the barely cracked door.
“You came right away. Thank you.”
The person outside handed Alice a tart. It was Baudouin.
Desirée blinked, wondering if she’d seen it wrong.
Maybe he had changed clothes—he wouldn’t show up to a banquet in dirty gear covered in dirt and blood.
But why was a mercenary dressed like a servant?
He didn’t look like Lazar’s attendant. So what exactly was the relationship between those two?
Just as Desirée tried to make sense of it—
“Th-Thirsty! More wine!”
Ovid began choking and called for a servant. A servant rushed over with a wine bottle.
Crash!
Ovid collapsed onto the table. The startled servant dropped the bottle, which shattered.
With that, the banquet hall erupted into chaos.
“Assassination! It’s an assassination!”
“Someone poisoned the food!”
“Run!”
People screamed and fled the hall. The lord leapt up from his seat.
“Ovid, what’s wrong?”
The lady of the house also stood, shaking her son’s shoulder.
“My son, wake up!”
Desirée also rose quickly from her seat.
She had stopped Ovid from dying in the forest. She had made sure Fabrice wouldn’t steal his authority as the next lord.
But now, because of something he ate, he was dying in the middle of a feast.
If she wanted to change the future, she couldn’t let this happen.
“I’ll go get a doctor!”
She ran out of the banquet hall, leaving behind the chaos.
* * *
“He’s dead.”
The doctor shook his head. There was no breathing, no heartbeat.
Desirée placed a hand on her forehead. The lady of the house began to sob. The lord looked grim.
Fabrice just blinked, stunned.
The lady suddenly grabbed the doctor by the collar.
“Why did you take so long! Bring him back—bring him back! That’s your job!”
“M-My lady, I practice medicine, not miracles…”
Sweat beaded on the doctor’s brow under her outburst. Desirée, who had known both the doctor and the family a long time, found herself pitying the doctor more.
“Living under my husband’s grace and you can’t even do your job? Try something—anything!”
Even doctors couldn’t be emotionally immune in the face of death. His expression was grim.
Desirée stepped forward to stop the lady.
“Please calm down.”
“You think I can calm down?! What were you doing while he was dying?! Why did you only just get the doctor?!”
Desirée raked a hand through her hair in frustration.
This was bad. Now Fabrice would become the next lord again. On top of the chaos, she was being blamed for not getting the doctor sooner.
With a deep sigh, Desirée said,
“I’ll step out for a moment.”
No one answered—too stunned to react. The lord pulled his sobbing wife away from the doctor.
Desirée whispered something to a servant and stepped into the garden.
* * *
“Wasn’t it supposed to end with the tart? Why’d he pass out before even touching it?”
A voice whispered beyond the thick hedges deep in the garden. It was Baudouin.
“You people couldn’t finish him off in the forest.”
A sharp female voice replied—it was Alice.
“Well… things got a little messy—”
“I couldn’t wait. Not even an hour, after what he did to my sister.”
“I apologize for the delay.”
“It’s fine. He’s dead now, at least. I no longer have to serve a murderer as the next lord.”
Desirée quietly moved to the other side of the hedge.
“You think Fabrice will be a good lord?”
Alice and Baudouin froze at her voice.
“So… the two of you plotted to poison Ovid?”
Alice didn’t answer. She bowed her head deeply. Her tightly shut lips said she had no regrets.
As a maid, she would’ve had easy access to the heir. But what had pushed her to the point of murder?
Baudouin asked Desirée,
“Isn’t this a good thing for you? With the successor changed, you’ll marry and become the lady of the manor. It’ll be a bit hectic for a while, sure—”
Desirée’s face hardened.
Baudouin was right. If Fabrice was officially named the heir, she would eventually become the lady of the estate.
And now that the direct bloodline was down to just him, the current lord and lady would surely pressure her to produce an heir quickly.
Desirée didn’t want to be treated like a broodmare. Especially not if she’d be slaughtered in three years anyway.
Alice, realizing Baudouin had touched a nerve, looked up.
“Miss, I’ll turn myself in.”
