PHATFO 92

~Chapter 92~

The Rohiltern couple stirred up as much noise as possible and spread rumors everywhere.

They did so because Marquis Axion Blancia had advised them that the bigger the uproar, the more the situation would lean in their favor.

[The more attention this matter draws, the less likely the Grand Duke will dare kill you. If you die in this climate, everyone will suspect him first.]

[No one will seek out the truth. Instead, people will choose sides based on their own interests.]

[Those who dislike the Grand Duke, or those who desire the seat of Grand Duchess, will stand with you. That’s why you must attend as many social gatherings as possible—to gather such allies.]

And indeed, they slept comfortably at night.

But this caused two unwanted side effects.

First—Charlotte came to the mansion in an uproar after hearing rumors.

“How could you do this to me? How could you say you’ll hand the Rohiltern family over to Bella! Are you really going to abandon me like this? Give away our family to that wicked girl?!”

“Charlotte, you know your father’s temper. I’ll take the blame for this broken dish, so leave quietly before he wakes.”

The second side effect… was far worse.

“It’s been a long time, madam.”

Just after they managed to send their daughter away, an even worse uninvited guest arrived. Abigail’s eyes turned sharp.

“How dare you come here… Get out. If you don’t, I’ll call the servants. You don’t want to be dragged out like a dog in broad daylight, do you?”

“Are you fine with people seeing me here? I don’t mind—I’ve nothing left to lose.”

Though he wore rags that covered his hair and half his face, Abigail recognized him immediately.

Once her first love, the man who had been her dream—the slave trader, Malkov.

“…Too many eyes here. This way.”

“As you wish.”

Abigail led him into an empty stable. It was secluded, out of sight, and perfect for avoiding suspicion.

At first he hunched like a beggar, but once alone, Malkov straightened and smirked down at her.

“Speak your business.”

“That’s easy. Give me money.”

“…What?”

“Your Rohiltern daughter made a huge mess. Because of that, now I’m being chased by the Grand Duke. So—you’ll help me.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. How is that Charlotte’s fault? If you hadn’t given her defective goods—!”

“Defective? That was a top-quality product straight from the Imperial Palace.”

“You mean… you knew?”

Malkov didn’t answer. Abigail’s breath trembled with fury.

“Are you insane? Or just cruel? What grudge do you have against me and Charlotte that you—”

“I thought she’d die. Who knew it would turn out like this?”

Malkov was indifferent. Among the slaves he captured, many were fallen nobles. Selling off discarded heirs to other nations wasn’t unusual.

This time, the difference was that the victim had survived—and now sought revenge.

“So why do you need money? No—why should I give you any at all?”

“Don’t be cold. We’ve shared deep secrets, haven’t we? Remember?”

A killing aura rose in Abigail’s eyes, but Malkov only chuckled. She was still beautiful, still the “Flower of the East.”

“I’m planning to defect. I need money for a new identity, land, a house. A decent life isn’t cheap.”

Once, he dreamed of running away with this noblewoman. But those days were long gone.

Abigail sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have money either.”

“Really? Strange. I came here because I heard your daughter will soon be Grand Duchess.”

“You—!”

“If you’re this stingy, I suppose I should see the Count instead. It would be rude to leave without greeting the master of the house.”

It was a threat. If she didn’t pay, he’d expose their shared “secret.”

“One million gold. No more, no less. Give me that, and I’ll vanish. Simple, isn’t it?”

He meant it. Once he got the money, he would board a smuggling ship and disappear forever.

“Think about it. Isn’t it better for you if I disappear quietly?”

“….”

“Besides, you could cover it with your daughter’s dowry. After all, her groom is the Grand Duke.”

When Abigail stayed silent, Malkov gripped her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

“The wedding is coming soon. You don’t want to face divorce before the ceremony, do you? That would be far too disgraceful.”

“You bastard—”

“What are you doing there?”

Abigail loosened her clenched fist. She had expected her husband to still be passed out drunk after drinking with Marquis Blancia all night. But the Count was awake.

“Honey…”

“Remember. One month from now. I’ll come back here then.”

Malkov whispered low so only she could hear, then immediately put on his groveling merchant face before the Count.

“Ah, my lord! I was just asking the madam to buy some fine jewelry. Alas, she wasn’t satisfied with anything I showed her. My apologies for failing to please her refined tastes.”

He left with fake cheer, disappearing quickly.

“What kind of peddler makes you raise your voice like that?”

Abigail forced a smile.

“Oh… Capital merchants really are persistent. He kept trying to sell even though I said no. And honestly, the jewelry wasn’t even that pretty.”

“Really?”

Though Malkov’s hands were empty and suspicious, the Count noticed nothing. Nor did he notice his wife’s pale face.

“Strange people so early in the day…”

He yawned and turned away.

“I’ll sleep more. Don’t let anyone like that in again.”

“…Yes, dear.”

“An honor to meet you, my lady. I am Jade, the second son of House Aolruentz. Please, just call me Jade.”

Armians chose not to appear directly, but instead introduced someone to assist me—a retainer said to have once worked as a judge.

“My years on the bench were few, but I learned much by helping my father. I can assist you with lawsuits.”

Jade Aolruentz was a sharp, intellectual-looking man. He wore only a white shirt and trousers, showing he wasted no time on frivolities.

He carried a thick stack of documents—materials he had already gathered related to my case.

‘He reeks of workaholic.’

Adjusting his glasses, he got straight to the point.

“His Highness said you wish to prove your rights as the sole heir of House Rohiltern. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Ideally, I’d sue to annul the adoption and sever ties with my uncle. But if I do, I’d lose the name Rohiltern—and then I’d lose my inheritance rights, right?”

“Correct. That’s why I suggest a lawsuit to nullify the adoption contract instead.”

“Nullify…?”

“You signed the adoption papers at age four. Too young to understand, and without a legal guardian present. We could argue the contract is invalid.”

“Would we win?”

“It’s difficult. Decades have passed. Few remain who know what truly happened. The Rohilterns will claim they raised you with love, regardless of any irregularities, and insist they hold rightful custody.”

‘Right… My claims of abuse are only words. There’s no proof anymore. Any marks on my body are gone, and they must have erased all traces from the estate.’

“That would be hard. After all, parenting styles differ.”

“Indeed. If you say abuse, they’ll call it discipline. Without proof, it’s difficult.”

He set aside a stack of precedent cases for me to read later.

“Instead, I recommend using the Empire’s Talent Protection Law.”

“How so?”

That law was meant to keep gifted mages tied to the Empire by granting them privileges.

‘Does that even apply to me? Ah…’

“You are an exceptional mage. Magic talent is usually inherited maternally. Which means your mother was likely a mage as well.”

“You’re suggesting that if I become Count, my descendants will all be potential mages? But isn’t that just a possibility?”

“No. That possibility itself is what matters.”

I tilted my head in thought.

“The current Count Rohiltern is your uncle Wilhelm. But the title and land are not truly his. They were granted by His Majesty in exchange for loyalty. Therefore, if His Majesty strips him of that trust—he ceases to be Count at all.”