Chapter 4
Demian parted his lips.
Contrary to what was publicly known, the Pentrin ducal household was surprisingly informal. Put nicely, it had an egalitarian atmosphere; put less nicely, there was no clear hierarchy.
Demian was a reasonable man. If he’d cared less about manners, he would’ve shouted just now. Ilian wouldn’t punish Demian for such rudeness.
In the distinctly visible future, Demian quickly gave up and looked at Ilian. A faint smile appeared. He seemed to find the situation rather entertaining.
Even though he spoke that way, Ilian was someone who acted from careful calculation. Sometimes his intelligence made Demian suspect he was almost emotionless. He had muttered “that madman” about him more than once.
Ilian, who enjoyed Demian’s steadfast trust, opened the envelope. Inside were stacks of paper folded in half. It was almost surprising the envelope looked so flat.
“There’s a lot. Is Miss Rotery really that important?” Demian asked.
“Most of it’s reports on the Rotery family. I told them to bring forward the regular report.” Ilian replied.
Pentrin’s informants were spread across the country. Officially they worked under the Pentrin household, but the intelligence they gathered passed through Ilian’s hands before reaching King Avery.
As Crystal had suspected, there were informants hidden within the Rotery household. They operated around the main residence. Since all of the Rotery family—except Crystal, who used her poor health as an excuse to stay in the annex—stayed at the main house, the informant focused there.
Information gathering centered on the Rotery duke and his legitimate wife. There was nothing unusual—until the duke decided to move up the schedule for the regular report…
They even had to add an inquiry into Crystal Rotery, who had previously attracted no attention. A duke who neglected his children wouldn’t ordinarily worry about an absent child; Crystal, unmarried and not involved in any succession disputes, wasn’t a key figure in the family.
“This must’ve been a sudden order, but they performed it well enough.” Ilian said.
“Yes.” Demian answered.
Ilian propped his chin on his hand and glanced quickly through the papers.
Under normal circumstances, the informant stationed at the Rotery house wouldn’t have had to suffer. From the moment the formal betrothal papers were sent until they actually prepared the marriage contract, there would be plenty of time.
Even if the proposal was Crystal’s unilateral act, once Ilian Pentrin sent the provisional betrothal notice, Crystal would have to inform her duke.
It would take the duke some time to consider the notice and come to a decision. Pentrin could leisurely receive reports, hold meetings, and then meet with them.
But Crystal had sent a letter saying she would come immediately. Though Ilian hastened his informant, Crystal arrived first. She was a remarkably decisive young lady. The informant’s efforts to make them arrive at nearly the same time were impressive.
“There’s really very little on Crystal.” Demian commented.
“She had no public activities at all. Even her family seems not to know much. It looks like the only people who ever met her in person were the Duke and Duchess of Rotery—and only when she was little.” Demian’s informant had found.
“I see. That figures. They didn’t even know their youngest daughter wanted to marry, then.” Ilian tapped the paper with his fingertip; the thin sheet couldn’t muffle the click of nail against desk.
According to the informant, the Rotery duke had been pushing for Crystal’s marriage. Daughters of the Rotery family were married off almost immediately after coming of age. Crystal’s poor health was an exception.
The duke seemed desperate to marry her off, perhaps thinking it was a good time—alliances supporting the late king had weakened. He apparently didn’t even realize his secluded daughter had gone missing from the annex.
“My father didn’t care about his children that much.” Demian muttered.
“The previous Grand Duke cared too much—that was the problem,” Demian thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. Some things shouldn’t be said, even if you were close to the duke. Jenni might have said it, but Demian kept quiet.
“She’s twenty-two this year—two years of adulthood. Yet she looks young,” Ilian said.
“I don’t know.” Demian replied.
“Not young in looks—more like… underdeveloped, maybe.” Ilian tried to explain.
“Huh?” Demian asked.
“Never mind.” Ilian dismissed it. He couldn’t explain the feeling because it was unfounded. He hadn’t been able to identify the subtle strangeness he sensed from Crystal.
She looked young—not in the sense of being baby-faced, but literally less grown… Had she been raised isolated from the outside? Was she still untainted, like a child?
It was only speculation.
Demian waited for Ilian to shake off his thoughts. The rough sound of nails tapping on the desk filled the quiet study. After a short pause, Ilian blinked slowly and Demian continued reading the paper.
“Her mother is the fourth wife. The annex where Miss Rotery stayed was originally where her mother convalesced. Because she resembled her mother and was frail, she naturally continued to use the annex.” Demian read.
“The annex isn’t important, so no one stopped it,” Ilian observed.
“Right. The servants who work in the main house declined to be transferred. The only person who stayed with her was her nursemaid—someone who’d come with her mother when she entered the Rotery family,” Demian added.
“Anyone else?” Ilian asked.
“They say a local coachman occasionally came and went from the annex… There’s a rumor the coachman was courting the nursemaid.” Demian recited.
For six years after that, rumors claimed he was rejected. It was unclear whether the one who rejected him or the one who kept proposing for six years deserved more credit.
Of course, the reason for rejection was probably Crystal.
“They were her only acquaintances. How are they now? Their precious ward left claiming she wanted to get married.” Ilian asked.
“It seems the coachman escorted Miss Rotery here and then returned. He looks intent on staying with the Rotery household.” Demian said.
“For now, at least. I bet they’ll stay—put your money on ‘she left,’” Ilian said.
“Should I bet on ‘they’ll stay’?” Demian asked.
“Do as you like.” Ilian shrugged.
That was all the information they had on Crystal. The more people someone met and the more they appeared in public, the more you could learn. Crystal, by that measure, was like a reclusive elder.
She had only met the duke and duchess a few times as a child and had never set foot in the main house. She lived in a small annex far from the main residence with no more than a handful of people her whole life. There was no record of her personality, no friends, and she had never used poor health as an excuse to go out.
“So this girl sent me a proposal.” Ilian mused.
The more they listed the facts, the stranger she seemed. Crystal, who could have comfortably remained an unassuming, frail girl, had staged a spectacular act of rebellion by proposing to Ilian himself.
If the Rotery duke learned, he might clutch his neck and faint. Whether Crystal did it knowingly or ignorantly couldn’t be discerned in a brief encounter.
“What do you think?” Ilian muttered—an unresolved question in his voice.
Crystal had proposed without consulting the duke. As soon as she received the provisional notice, she rushed over. Her nursemaid remained at the Rotery annex. The Rotery family did not yet know of her departure.
“What do you think, Demian? For what purpose did Crystal come to me?”
Demian had a few guesses, but the evidence was flimsy. Could a naive girl really try to use Ilian Pentrin? Was she someone who knew too much—or nothing at all?
Demian shook his head. If he knew, he wouldn’t be wracking his brains now. Seeing Demian betray everything on his face to show he didn’t know, Ilian made a mischievous expression.
“Then what about this? A line from the proposal Crystal sent me.” Ilian recited.
“…I love you ardently. Only love makes my heart beat.” A short line he remembered.
Crystal’s letter contained many more sugary declarations. They turned it over several times, wondering if it was actually a love letter sent to the wrong person rather than a formal proposal.
Ilian even laughed aloud when he read it. He said he’d never received such a proposal before.
“So? Does it seem like Crystal loves me ardently?” Ilian asked.
From the wording, it seemed her heart did beat ardently. She’d been confined to an annex—did she perhaps mistake fear for love?
Demian thought Crystal had been extremely nervous in front of Ilian. It was admirable she’d managed to get up the stairs without stiffening. Like a rabbit before a tiger, how could she claim to love him ardently…?
“Absolutely not.” Demian said flatly.
Crystal feared Ilian. She tried hard not to show it, but unfortunately even that effort was obvious.
Had Ilian killed someone in front of her or threatened her? He had done nothing—just greeted her and briefly escorted her on the stairs. The kiss on her hand had been merely a formal courtesy.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t a little hurt, but Ilian wasn’t wounded. He had not believed Crystal’s words when he let her into the house in the first place.
“There really is so little on Crystal. She never socialized or even went out. How is that possible?” Ilian asked, pushing the papers toward Demian. The sheet floated and landed at the edge of the desk.
“Ah.” Demian breathed softly; his smile crooked asymmetrically.
“That’s not something I should say.” He sounded like someone whose straight line had suddenly slipped. Demian took the precarious paper and averted his eyes. Before he could speak, Ilian continued.
“It’s too late today to meet Crystal. I have manners, you know.” Ilian said.
“If you planned to meet her tomorrow, why come down today?” Demian protested.
“You still think like that? You overthink everything. Whether it’s today or tomorrow doesn’t matter.” Ilian replied.
“It does matter. You know that knowing your enemy is the basic condition for winning a war. If Miss Rotery suspected anything…” Demian insisted.
“If she suspected?” Ilian repeated. His lips drew a quiet curve urging him to speak, but his eyes were not smiling. Feeling that one scolding was enough, Demian bit his lip.
“I’m sorry.” He said.
“I’m not angry. I understand what you worry about. Your worries are always logical. But Demian, think.” Ilian’s voice dropped to a whisper and the light in his black eyes deepened, sinking into an abyss that resembled the night sky.
“If Crystal sensed anything… what would change?” Ilian smiled; the chill at the corner of his mouth made one instinctively recoil.
“Could she run off and spread rumors? Or use it to blackmail me? Demian, Crystal can do nothing.” Ilian stated, speaking only the obvious.
Crystal could do nothing.
She might be of some use—she might bring an interesting story. For now she was simply a Rotery girl.
But if things went wrong as Demian feared… whether she was indeed the Rotery youngest daughter, whether she was a frail girl, or what had motivated her—none of that would matter.
Demian worried on the assumption that Crystal would leave this place alive. He feared a failed, gentle attempt at bargaining. He worried she might be able to seize the advantage and manipulate them. Ilian did not disagree with the sentiment, only with the direction.
Because this was the Pentrin ducal residence, and because Ilian Pentrin would not want otherwise, Crystal could do nothing.
If she refused, they could simply kill her. Thinking that, Ilian turned his gaze away.
