TMH Ch#05

. The Disease-Ridden Count’s Daughter

The bustling streets of Leongrad resembled scenes from a medieval movie.

On one side of the red-brick-paved road, a freight wagon driven by Dwayne moved slowly.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop.

Marie had disembarked and was walking from the outskirts of the city.

There was no room on the driver’s seat due to Dwayne’s large frame, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for a noble lady to sit in the cargo area.

“Welcome, my lady. What kind of book are you looking for?”

The bookstore owner greeted Marie warmly.

Though the bookstore’s main clientele seemed to be nobles, no one recognized Marie, who had been secluded at home for years.

“Hello. I’m not here to buy a book. I was hoping someone might need the books I have.”

“We only sell books and don’t usually buy them directly, but… Oh! What a rare find!”

The owner’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the books Dwayne brought in.

“Thank you for bringing us such rare volumes. Please wait just a moment!”

The bookstore owner went inside and returned with a thick envelope filled with cash and a detailed statement.

It was enough money to rent a small house.

“Looks like I won’t have to sleep on the streets.”

Just as she stepped out of the store with a bright expression, she spotted a familiar face getting out of a carriage.

A noble lady in a red dress stood out with her dazzling blonde hair, sparkling eyes, slender figure, and tall stature.

But more than anything, it was the extravagant dress and jewelry that caught attention.

She was clearly from a very wealthy family.

‘That woman… where have I seen her before…?’

Her face was familiar, but Marie couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh, isn’t this the most beautiful lady in Leongrad, Lady Edith Perridan!”

A passing gentleman recognized her and greeted her warmly.

“Do you have business here? At the bookstore?”

“Yes, I stopped by to see if there were any new books on interior design.”

“Oh, I see. Are you planning to lead the interior culture of Leongrad on behalf of House Perridan?”

Edith Perridan gave a delicate, sad smile.

“I heard the Whitehouse family has gone bankrupt. Such a pity.”

She pouted her scarlet lips in a cute, feigned expression of sympathy.

She was the very image of a pure and lovely noble lady.

“Indeed. I heard only the Count’s younger sister is left in the family now. Who knows what will become of her. The family is ruined, so she better marry well.”

Edith whispered softly,

“What a shame. Rumor has it she killed her parents and even drove her brother to death… I wonder if anyone would ever marry her now.”

Her voice was full of mock concern and pity.

The gentleman, startled, asked,

“What? Then you mean Count Henry Whitehouse died because of that young lady?”

“Oh, of course. Why else would frugal, scholarly Henry suddenly go into trade? It was all to support his sister’s extravagant spending.”

Her voice was just loud enough for the surrounding people to hear.

‘Edith… Perridan…?’

Marie turned the name over in her mind, trying to recall the familiar face.

Then, a dull ache stirred in her chest.

It felt as if the deeply buried wounds within Marianne Whitehouse’s body were reopening.

“Isn’t that her? The disease-ridden Count’s daughter?”

“She caught a plague and caused her parents’ deaths, right?”

“Yeah, they say she passed it on to them and only she survived.”

“How horrifying—to kill your own parents!”

Several years ago, Marianne had been forced to attend a ball.

Henry, her brother, had grown desperate to find her a marriage match and had dragged her out of seclusion.

But no matter how beautifully adorned Marianne was, she couldn’t hide the years spent as a recluse.

“Marie, lift your head. Talk to people, will you?”

Henry urged her gently, but Marianne didn’t raise her head.

She just shifted her gaze nervously, unable to settle.

“No one’s asking the Whitehouse girl to dance.”

No one approached her.

“Well, of course. I heard she can’t even hold a proper conversation.”

“Exactly, they say she’s so timid she can’t even make eye contact.”

“Such an uneducated noble lady—how pathetic.”

Some gentlemen, at Henry’s request, did ask her to dance.

But Marianne didn’t respond and couldn’t even meet their eyes.

“Oh my, Lady Perridan, look at that! How rude to ignore someone’s kindness like that!”

“Exactly! I’ve never seen a noble lady with such poor manners or upbringing.”

“She could learn a thing or two from Lady Perridan.”

“Oh dear, I only practice what I’ve been taught, hohoho.”

Then Marie remembered.

Edith Perridan had been the one who sneered at her that night, calling her an unrefined, ill-mannered noblewoman.

“As expected, Lady Perridan is so humble. A true role model for noble ladies everywhere.”

“Oh no, I still have much to learn. I only seem better by comparison with Lady Whitehouse.”

“Ah, so the problem was Lady Whitehouse, ha ha ha.”

“Hohohoho.”

At those words, Marie’s cheeks burned, and tears welled in her eyes.

“H-Henry… I-I want to go home. Please.”

“No. How long are you going to live like this? You have to try at least a little!”

In the end, Marie broke down crying in front of everyone.

“Please… just let me go home…”

“Can’t you try, even a little? Are you going to live like this forever?”

“I—I can’t do this. Please…”

“Do as you like!”

Henry snapped, and they returned home at once.

“I’ve done all I can. I give up.”

He never again tried to send her into society.

Instead, he traveled abroad or busied himself designing beautiful interiors.

The family butler eventually took over Marie’s care entirely, and her condition worsened.

“Tsk, tsk. What will happen to the Whitehouse girl now?”

Edith Perridan’s sweet voice snapped Marie out of her thoughts.

“Who knows? Maybe she’ll go to the Royal Supreme Court to beg for help? So she doesn’t starve to death? Hahaha.”

“But does she even know how to do that, poor uneducated thing? Hohohoho.”

“……”

Marie turned to see Edith and the gentleman entering the bookstore.

“Royal… Supreme Court?”

Marie’s eyes lit up.

From beside the carriage, Dwayne asked hesitantly,

“M-My… lady… Are you… going back to the store?”

“No… Let’s go to the Royal Supreme Court.”

—

The Royal Supreme Court was steeped in a solemn atmosphere.

The stiff decor and official ambiance created an oppressive mood.

“Why can’t the auction be canceled? The debt’s not even due yet.”

Marianne Whitehouse was firmly questioning a court clerk.

“Since Count Whitehouse is deceased, the maturity date no longer matters. The heirs have declined the debt.”

The court official repeated the refusal in a flat tone.

He was used to dealing with unreasonable complaints and was numb to them.

‘Still going? Isn’t she tired of asking when the answer’s no?’

She had been badgering him for nearly 30 minutes.

‘She’ll give up eventually.’

But he hadn’t realized that Marie was intentionally prolonging the “questions.”

Her first goal was to understand Leongrad’s laws and procedures.

You need information before you can find a solution.

“What do you mean heirs? I’m the Count’s only blood relative. I never signed anything.”

“Let’s see… Oh, here it is.”

“Signed by Nathan Barrett?”

“Yes. Baron Barrett is the next in line, so he has signing authority.”

A chill ran down Marie’s spine.

“If the head of the family claims you, the king is bound to approve it!”

She remembered Nathan, covered in white paint, fleeing the house.

What if he really did get the king’s approval to marry me?

She might be forced into marriage.

She needed a way to stop Nathan, as well as save the estate.

“Why should Nathan Barrett inherit the title? I heard women aren’t automatically disqualified.”

“That’s correct. But a woman must pass a rigorous evaluation to prove she can lead a noble house.”

Marie’s face brightened.

“I see! Then how can I apply for the evaluation?”

At the very least, it would buy her time.

“Well… it’s very rare to pass…”

“I still want to apply. How do I do it?”

The clerk tilted his head and shuffled through papers.

Marie waited, anxious but hopeful.

“Ah, I see. The Royal Court sent three notices to you, but Lady Marianne Whitehouse refused to accept all of them.”

“…Refused to accept?”

“So the application deadline has already passed.”

“No way…”

Now she vaguely recalled how, after hearing of Henry’s death, she had a hysterical meltdown.

“Henry’s not dead! He’s not!”

The memory was faint, but it seemed she had refused to accept Henry’s death—maybe she hadn’t even opened the court’s notices.

“Let me see them.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to verify the refusal notices myself.”

“Sigh… Very well.”

The clerk, looking visibly tired, reluctantly handed her the documents.

“…This name…?”