YGYD 15

Chapter – 15

“Dear Viscount Walker is hosting a party—how could I possibly not attend?”

“Th-thank you, Your Highness! It is all thanks to the grace of the Crown Prince!”

Viscount Walker, who somehow ended up bowing in surprise, answered with trembling eyes when he heard Crown Prince Harold’s voice fall directly over his head. When he slowly rose, real tears were hanging at the corners of his eyes.

‘At last, the purpose of this party has been achieved! Look, everyone—this is the kind of man I am!’

He had been boiling inside all evening because no one had been paying him attention. As he tried once more to bow to the prince, an overwhelming scent of strong alcohol hit his nose, and he involuntarily opened his mouth.

“Y-Your Highness… you seem to have drunk quite a bit.”

“Ahh. ‘Quite a bit’? What are you talking about? I came here because I haven’t had nearly enough. And you will give me anything I ask for, won’t you?”

To the drunkenly flushed Crown Prince, rambling loudly, Viscount Walker forced an awkward smile.

“O-of course, Your Highness.”

“Good. But why is it so quiet in here? As expected, is a viscount’s household not wealthy enough to hire musicians for a feast?”

At the Crown Prince’s slurred complaint, the panicked attendants hurried to resume the music. Only then did the prince look satisfied, and he turned to introduce the man beside him to Viscount Walker.

“I was sharing a drink nearby with this new Chief of Police, Frank Porter. Ah, Porter—get along well with Viscount Walker here. He’s generous and the very embodiment of noble spirit.”

At those words, the viscount’s shoulders shot up toward the sky again. Meanwhile, Alice Walker—who heard the same words from a distance—bit her lip and couldn’t raise her burning face.

Meanwhile, the one who had been introduced as part of the prince’s entourage—yet had actually just been wandering outside the mansion alone until he was dragged in—Prince Bernard, the twelfth prince, rushed straight toward Octavia. He didn’t even glance at the host’s side.

“Miss Wood…! Once again today, your beauty nearly blinds me. Like a single noble daffodil blooming alone amidst the crowd.”

“Haha… Your Highness, I thought you had left.”

“Is it not my role to wait for you?”

Octavia let out an awkward laugh, yet her eyes glimmered with pride as she glanced around. Before all the nobles who had ignored her all this time, she had just proven that not only the viscount’s daughter but also a prince treated her with such admiration.

Watching Octavia and Prince Bernard converse warmly, Brielle finally smiled with satisfaction.

‘The time has finally come!’

Leaving Octavia, who no longer cared about her, Brielle told her she was going to the restroom and slipped out of the central hall.

“Agh, this dress is ridiculously heavy.”

Dragging her gradually numbing legs, Brielle headed to an empty room on the mansion’s second floor.

Directly above that room was Viscount Walker’s study. With the help of Molly and the butler—Molly’s friend—Brielle had easily secured access to this area.

Standing in the dark room, she immediately stripped off her dress. Beneath the voluminous, ornate skirt appeared the pants she had worn in advance and a small pouch tied around her waist.

The reason she intentionally chose such a ridiculously large and outdated dress was exactly this. Brielle swiftly pulled items from her pouch and began her disguise.

Moments later, she had transformed into a middle-aged man with short, curly hair. The dress, rolled up into her belly, made her look even more convincing.

“Wow, I think this stomach sticks out even more than Viscount Walker’s.”

With a mischievous giggle, Brielle checked the two tools she always carried. One was her signature weapon—the rolling pin. The other was a special “secret weapon” prepared just for the viscount.

“Let’s do our best again today, okay?”

Caressing the rolling pin, the thief—Rolling Pin—walked toward the window facing the back of the mansion. Her steps were light, completely unlike when she’d been wearing the heavy dress.

Before leaving the central hall, Brielle had placed a note on the silver tray carried by a server toward the viscount couple. The note warned that she would expose his secret to the world and that he should come to the study if he wished to negotiate.

Rolling Pin easily climbed the wall and slipped into the viscount’s study. Now she only had to wait for the panicked man to rush in.

Cracking her neck from side to side, she surveyed the study. It hardly deserved to be called a study—there were few books and only a handful of cheap ornaments.

‘So he really did sell everything valuable to bribe the royals… I guess that rumor was true.’

Clicking her tongue at the empty shelves, the thief retraced Viscount Ian Walker’s crimes.

Aside from bribery, the official reason he was promoted from baron to viscount was the “invention of an affordable typewriter.”

He had been credited with improving the traditional bulky typewriter, revolutionizing the device and earning his title.

But in truth, the affordable typewriter had been invented by a commoner couple he had known for years.

They had shown him the blueprint—they had no idea they were delivering themselves right into a wolf’s jaws.

The couple reported him, fully confident the truth would be revealed quickly since they possessed the original designs and all the parts.

They never imagined the Crown Prince’s influence would prevent the case from even reaching the courthouse.

Thus, the affordable typewriter became officially recognized as Ian Walker’s invention. The devastated couple soon fell ill—one went blind, the other deaf.

‘It’s not just the viscount. That Crown Prince bastard deserves to be punished too…’

Rolling Pin recalled Harold’s drunken, staggering figure and scowled fiercely. She vowed to drag him into misery someday soon and grit her teeth—

When the study door opened, and the person she’d been waiting for finally arrived—

“Are—are you… Rolling Pin?”

It wasn’t the viscount.

It was his wife, Alice Walker.

Startled, the thief hid her “secret weapon” behind her back and gave a slight nod.

Alice immediately clasped her hands and fell to her knees before her.

“W-Why are you doing that?”

The thief—roughening her voice on purpose to sound husky—growled. But Alice did not stop kneeling. She lifted her face, pleading desperately.

“I came to the right place. Rolling Pin… the secret you mentioned… is it about the typewriter?”

“…That’s not all. There’s also the matter of identity fraud.”

“Wh-what? Identity… fraud?”

Seeing Alice freeze in shock, Rolling Pin rubbed her neck. As expected, it seemed Alice Walker had no idea about her husband’s sins.

‘She really is… different from him.’

She had supported Brielle earlier when other nobles threw covert barbs, and now she appeared in his stead to beg for forgiveness.

And, as Rolling Pin suspected, she knew nothing about her husband living under a dead friend’s stolen identity—a fact well known in the viscount’s rural hometown.

After struggling with the decision, Rolling Pin told Alice everything.

By the end, Alice’s face was ghost-pale. Seeing her so shaken softened the thief’s heart.

“…Since you didn’t know, I’ll leave for today. I’ll deal with the viscount separately later. No matter where he runs, I’ll find him—so don’t even think of doing anything foolish.”

“No, Rolling Pin. Everything you told me… I will reveal it all to the world. And I will persuade my husband to confess.”

“…What?”

Rolling Pin stared, stunned, as Alice begged for one more chance—promising she would take responsibility, make him confess, apologize to the couple, and atone to his late friend’s family. She said she herself was also guilty for failing to stop him.

“The real Ian was the kindest person I’ve ever known. Please… just one more chance.”

“…Haah. If you insist that much, then I suppose I have no choice. But he must admit everything, fully. He must apologize and compensate the commoner couple and his late friend’s family. And he must surrender his title.”

“Thank you, thank you…!”

Thus, for the first time, Rolling Pin abandoned her mission and walked away.

Changing back into her dress, Brielle sighed deeply at the combination of a kind wife and a rotten husband.

A few days later, a small article appeared in the corner of page 3 of the Berkshire Times.

It reported that Viscountess Alice Walker had fallen from a mansion window and was in critical condition.