Chapter 30
“A ledger… of secrets?”
Bella’s voice trembled slightly.
It wasn’t because of what Chey had said, but because—just for a moment—he felt like a completely different person. That’s how cold and deathly his aura had become.
“Yes. There must be documents he prepared just in case he died. People like him don’t go down alone. Usually, those kinds of documents are kept in the office safe, the family vault, or a bedside drawer.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was a noble once, too.”
Chey’s voice carried a hint of leisure, even amusement.
Bella recalled the first day she had met him.
Back then, he was pale and beautiful, wrapped in a chilling blue aura—eerily cold. No matter how gently and kindly he usually spoke, there were times when that distinctive coldness of a noble peeked through. Just like now.
“But wouldn’t Count Treshi keep something that important, like a secret ledger, under his own control?”
Bella fiddled with the bracelet that kept Chey bound. The wrist wearing it felt cold.
“No. Important things like that are usually held by middlemen. It’s a form of insurance. More importantly, Count Treshi probably doesn’t think he’ll be punished for any of this.”
“You think so too? That he won’t be punished?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Bella, clutching the village map to her chest, quickened her steps, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of being drawn in by Chey.
“The times have changed, Bella.”
“The times have changed…”
Bella repeated his words softly and folded up the map.
If they kept walking straight, they’d reach the arena. Festivals were usually centered around the arena, so today’s festival would be held there as well.
The gambling den wouldn’t open until nightfall. Until then, listening to what the townspeople had to say during the festivities might prove useful.
“Yeah. Seeing it with my own eyes, it’s obvious now. Nobility and royalty can no longer truly be allies. They’re just maintaining a fragile temporary alliance because neither side has managed to catch the other’s weakness yet. It’s a precarious and unstable relationship.”
“So, if I find Count Treshi’s secret ledger and hand it over to the royal family, you think they’ll deal with him?”
“Something like that.”
As they continued down the road, a large crowd gradually came into view. Everyone was enjoying the festival with such giddy joy they seemed ready to float away into the sky.
“Behold! The elephant, a wondrous creature!”
“Wooooow—!”
With the red curtain drawn back, a massive gray animal trapped in a steel cage was revealed.
It was a beast so large that one stomp of its foot could easily crush a person.
“That’s incredible. Its nose is so long… and it has tusks too.”
Watching with interest, Bella soon noticed the shackles around the animal’s ankles.
Its skin was scraped raw against the metal, and dried blood was smeared around the chains.
“…Let’s go somewhere else.”
Bella frowned deeply and averted her gaze.
Despite all the buzz about the age of trade and exotic spices, this was the first time the impact had hit her skin-deep.
It was strange.
Nobles had always hated sharing what they enjoyed with commoners. Yet here were people clapping and throwing coins at a bleeding elephant, no different from nobles toying with defeated slaves.
Leaving the arena, Bella wandered around the location where the gambling den was scheduled to open, carefully observing her surroundings.
Some suspicious-looking individuals were already lurking, likely staking out the area. Bella memorized their appearances one by one and moved as discreetly as possible.
“Chey. Why do you think Count Treshi restricted entry to the gambling den?”
“Putting restrictions in place always means there’s a clear intention. Think about what kind of person Count Treshi is.”
If that’s the case—
Bella clapped as the realization hit her, then hurried out to the street.
After buying a few newspapers, she sat on a nearby bench and examined them. Previously, someone named Kalte had said “Count Treshi is the royal family’s dog.” He even added that the royals must’ve ordered him to do this because they needed money. Back then, it sounded ridiculous.
Even now, Bella didn’t believe the royal family was opening a gambling den in such a remote town just for money.
But if this wasn’t purely about money, there had to be political motives. And if so, it was possible that either the noble faction or the royal family was involved.
“Chey, I figured it out.”
“What is it?”
“The class system.”
“Class system. That’s a strong possibility. Nobles wouldn’t be pleased about its weakening.”
There was a faint sense of satisfaction in Chey’s voice. Bella had said what he wanted to hear.
She pressed her tired eyes shut and glanced again at the newspaper stall. Covered in dust, it was clear she was the first customer. Of course—who reads a newspaper during a festival?
“So in the end, it’s a warning. Even if a commoner gets lucky and is granted a noble title, if they don’t know their place and get greedy, they’ll only end up ruined.”
Bella groaned as she stood from the bench.
“Exactly. Count Treshi may be called the royal family’s dog, but he’s also a noble. He can never be separated from that.”
“If we break it down, it could go either way. The royal family might want to limit the number of new nobles, fearing the risks of wealthy commoners buying titles. On the other hand, nobles don’t want their privileges diluted and will cling to their power desperately. Either way, once we hand over the secret ledger, we’ll know for sure—whether Count Treshi truly answers to the noble faction or the royal family.”
Before sunset, Bella needed to figure out how to get into the gambling den.
With rumors already circulating about Kalte’s death, security would be much tighter.
She considered changing her clothes first and headed to a tailor. On a day like this, wearing a mask or flashy clothes wouldn’t draw attention.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, lamps were gradually lit along the streets.
Now dressed in a flamboyant outfit and feathered mask, Bella looked around.
The festival—and the gambling—had begun.
“A powerless royal family is inconvenient to both nobles and wealthy commoners. We just need to exploit that victim mentality. Count Treshi may act like the royal family’s lapdog, but he’s still a high-ranking noble. The royals are probably using this chance to suppress the nobility.”
But were the royals truly powerless? Compared to the former king who had declared himself the sun and claimed divine right, today’s monarch certainly appeared shakier—but not entirely weak.
The thought briefly crossed her mind. But from the perspective of a long-dead soul like Chey, today’s royal family might indeed seem powerless.
More importantly, Bella was struggling with a foggy haze clouding her mind.
Trying to snap out of it, she closed her eyes tightly and slowly reopened them.
“Right now, it may seem like the royal family is allied with the new wealthy class, but in truth, the easiest to control are the ignorant, pitiable, and poor commoners. So yes, their stance will change—just like you said.”
The royal family was uncomfortable with the high-ranking nobles who had blood ties to the throne, and the newly rich commoners wanted to escape from lords who stole their wealth.
As it stood, the alliance between royals and wealthy commoners was a perfect win-win.
“Count Treshi is just trying to contain the situation however he can. Undermining the class system is the same as undermining noble authority.”
“But if this rise of the new rich continues, is it possible the royal family will ally with the nobles again? Back in the days of absolute monarchy, the belief that pursuing personal profit was unjust existed to suppress the rise of private wealth, because once you had it, you’d seek power too.”
Bella now felt a strange sense of excitement in her conversations with Chey. She was enjoying this—despite the dire situation.
It was ridiculous, even to herself, but she had never spoken so freely with someone who truly understood her.
Back when she was a maid who read the newspaper, her peers had seen her as a weirdo pretending to have refined tastes.
Before meeting Chey, all her knowledge had seemed like empty vanity in a difficult life.
“The royal family won’t join hands with the nobles. More likely, Count Treshi is acting under noble faction orders. Outwardly, he’s the royal family’s dog—but in truth, he’s probably just a messenger between them.”
“So the royal family will side with the commoners in the end?”
“Yes. The royals have bloodline but no money, while commoners have money but no bloodline. They’re perfectly complementary. Even if the class system collapses, it’s the relationship between nobles and commoners that will change—not between royals and commoners.”
“…Then.”
“That means now is the perfect time for your revenge. Especially with the current conflict between royalty and nobility over maritime trade taxes.”
“We absolutely have to drag Count Treshi into this.”
Of course, Bella and Chey’s opinions slightly differed. Bella believed that within a few years, commoners would establish themselves as a powerful new force.
In the cities, they were already calling themselves citizens. The influence of the once-meaningless Parliament was growing. A clash between the royal family and the people, formerly called subjects, seemed inevitable.
As they discussed these matters, they eventually arrived at the gambling den.
“It’s quieter than usual today.”
Bella strolled up casually to the tent and greeted the mercenary guarding the entrance.
But the mercenaries immediately sized her up with suspicion.
“What do you want?”
“Just here for a little fun.”
She jingled a pouch of coins in her hand. One of the mercenaries stepped forward and snatched it, checking its contents.
“This isn’t a place just anyone can enter.”
“Even with money? Wow, it’s been a while since I experienced discrimination based on status.”
Bella smiled slyly and snatched the pouch back from the mercenary’s hand.
Whether it was the festive mood, greed, or their original intention to let her in—it didn’t matter. The mercenaries, forgetting their duties, held out thick hands.
“One silver coin. That’s cheap.”
“Thanks.”
Bella placed a silver coin in each of their hands and entered the tent with a calm stride.
It probably wasn’t just the bribe that got her in. More likely, she matched the profile they were looking for.
A commoner with wealth.
Someone who had climbed into the lower nobility through money and now stood on the brink of ruin through gambling—someone to be made an example of.
As Bella surveyed the inside of the tent, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her again.
“Bella.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy.”
“…Bella. Listen closely.”
Chey’s grave voice made Bella turn toward the bracelet, instinctively bracing herself.
