6 – Act 2, Chapter 4

The news brought to Suez by the fast clipper Ariel, riding the southeasterly trade winds, was utterly bleak for the opium merchants of Carrerway Street and the numerous Company interests.

Upon his official appointment, the new Imperial Commissioner of the Qing Dynasty announced a total ban on the opium trade and ordered the seizure of all opium loaded onto merchant ships. Furthermore, he notified them that commercial trade would only be permitted if they accepted that any attempt to re-import opium would result in immediate execution. It was a powerful declaration of will to purge the opium that was sickening his people and his nation.

As the atmosphere grew hostile, a full-scale military standoff began during the forced surrender of nearly 20,000 chests of opium. The Daecheong maritime defense forces cut off communications between the outer anchorages and Guangzhou. With news of successive suppressions and the imprisonment of their own merchants, even the seemingly impregnable Parliament began to waver. The position of those who had to persuade and argue logic was rapidly shifting from Whig to Tory.

Colonel Harrison Howard has demanded that ships carrying opium leave and not enter the territorial waters of Guangzhou. The import of daily necessities has also been cut off, and the anxiety of local merchants has reached its peak. We had to spend an enormous amount of money just to extract our company employees. Local officials are no longer willing to accept bribes. Everyone is playing it safe because the atmosphere is rife with executions. I plan to return to London soon.

The eyes reading the letter from across the sea sank darkly.

“…….”

While it was the worst possible situation for English merchants adrift in Guangzhou, from another perspective, it was the perfect scenario to dismantle clumsy moral arguments.

The letter crumpled miserably in his grip. The eyes looking down at the paper were as cold as emotionless metal.

Justification.

It was the justification he had longed for for so long.

✧ ✧ ✧

The mood of the hastily convened Parliament was not favorable toward the Conservative Party. After the reading ended, the two men who stepped out into the lobby only stopped walking when they reached the entrance leading to the opposite hall. The well-maintained garden opened up before them in a single glance.

“The atmosphere is drifting in a strange direction.”

“I felt that the centrist votes within the Conservative Party are wavering.”

“It is worse than that.”

Tracing the elegant line of his cheek, Aaron shrugged.

“Are they not merely a crowd that chases the winner? It is nothing new.”

As Gordon said, the atmosphere was distinctly different from a few months ago. Once their own countrymen began to come to harm, meager morality and conscience collapsed at a rapid pace. To call it justice would be an overstatement; it could only be explained as having waited for a justification. In the first place, that was the mere level of their justice.

“Earl, I feel a sense of self-loathing in this current situation. How on earth… how can people not feel ashamed of such a war? It feels as if we are in a scene dominated by collective madness.”

“Sir Baillyn.”

“Was England such a powerless empire? It is simply shameful that, not content with an inhumane business, we are determined to ruin a country with fruits created by the devil.”

Every corner of his slow tone was mixed with misery and rage. It was the same thing his father had said. After watching the man for a while, Aaron finally took out a cigar and lit it. His hand trembled as he sparked it. He felt a strange sensation of his muscles relaxing, but he soon dismissed it as insignificant.

“The Queen is also merely observing the situation. You are striving enough, Sir.”

“Earl.”

“Is it not human nature to be indifferent to the suffering of others for the sake of the profit one wishes to obtain?”

Aaron thought of the many people who had passed through his life. While he couldn’t call them all villains, there wasn’t a single person, including himself, who wasn’t selfish.

“Despite the Earl arranging various opportunities for communication, I fear we may not be able to block the dispatch bill in the House of Commons. Since you are striving so hard to establish justice, if I could only help even a little…”

“Sir Baillyn.”

Flicking the ash over the railing, Aaron cut him off.

“The reason I oppose this war is simply due to my personal issues and interests.”

Their relationship was one of collaboration for the sake of the interests each pursued. Aaron drew a clear line toward Gordon Baillyn, who was trying to approach him with friendliness. It was a cold response, but Gordon shook his head with a faint smile.

“I am the same. Is it not true that everyone in Westminster is fighting for their own beliefs and interests?”

“Unfortunately, I did not start this for some grand reason like belief or justice, as you did, Sir Baillyn. It is only for the profit I wish to gain.”

“No matter what you say, the fact remains that the Earl opposes this barbaric and unfair act of destroying the lives of a nation’s people.”

“…….”

Gordon Baillyn leaned on the railing and looked at the scenery Aaron had been gazing at until a moment ago.

“Furthermore, despite your words, I know the effort you put into winning over the moderates and the fact that you meticulously attend every reading regarding the dispatch. The greatest credit for preventing the defection of the Canning faction votes in every major reading vote belongs to Earl Vispilt. I firmly believe it is not an effort for personal gain, but even if it were…”

The waters of the Thames flowed leisurely. Across that river, in some sea, steamships laden with sin were still heading toward a foreign land, driven mad by money and silver bars.

“Would such actions not be the Earl’s own form of justice?”

“…….”

Unable to speak for a moment, Aaron took in the sight of the steadfast Gordon Baillyn.

He was a man who was not just upright, but inflexible. In the party, there were certainly those who belittled and distorted Gordon Baillyn’s efforts to win over even the moderates and the staunch opponents.

Despite the harsh rumors surrounding him, that young Member of Parliament silently pushed forward the justice he had established. That stubbornness resembled his own brother, who had endured long periods of neglect and isolation.

“……To call this justice. How laughable.”

Justice.

At the word Gordon Baillyn uttered, Aaron clicked his tongue softly and turned his face away. Noticing Aaron’s obvious discomfort, Gordon fell silent. He was a man of appropriate conduct.

At the end of the lobby they had walked was the assembly hall where they had been debating passionately until just now. Looking at the magnificent doors, Aaron thought of the confident young lion of Westminster who had delivered such persuasive speeches. He looked no different from the countless people he had seen, those riddled with greed and desire.

No, far from being different, he was even more blatant and hideous.

‘Truly, are they not a wretched and loathsome dog and his master?’

Whispering words that would never reach the other person, Aaron took another deep drag of his cigar. No matter how much he smoked, he felt hungry and thirsty. If he did not clear his mind with this toxic smoke, he had no way to suppress the ferocity of the madness raging within.

“…….”

At that moment, a mischievous wind blew, shaking his frozen heart. It was a tedious yet peaceful afternoon.

In a love letter no different from any other day, slightly different content was written. Since their intimate relationship began, it was the first time MacQueen Lester had requested a meeting somewhere other than Briston House, their secret rendezvous.

It took quite a long time to get from London to the Enfield estate. Because he had to avoid prying eyes as much as possible, the journey was extremely cumbersome and noisy, involving trains at different times. When he finally had to change carriages twice at the station, his violent temperament finally flared up.

“You’ve arrived.”

The sight of the man rushing toward him and the joy spreading instantly across his face were so blatant that Aaron ended up swallowing the rebuke he had been preparing throughout the journey.

“Please, come inside.”

“…….”

“Did something happen? You look angry.”

“I have no idea how many yards I walked in this heat.”

“Haha.”

MacQueen laughed awkwardly and stepped boldly into the mansion. After a set interval, the sound of neat footsteps followed.

“I was worried because it was exceptionally humid today and there was no breeze. Considering the personality of yours I’ve come to know, there would be more than enough reason for you to be angry.”

“And yet you made me come all this way knowing that.”

“Haha, yes. I admit it was my greed. I was so curious about when you would arrive that I kept peeking out the window waiting for you. Doesn’t that make me sound like a complete fool?”

“The sight of you running from afar wasn’t exactly amusing either.”

At the indifferent reply, MacQueen laughed even louder, his shoulders shaking. Regardless of that reaction, Aaron carefully scanned the interior of the hall. The various artworks and antique furniture were all lavish, and the interior was decorated without a single empty space. It was a scene that laid bare the vulgar power of capital born from the Industrial Revolution. The concentrated greed was more nauseating than the smell of opium. Aaron snorted and turned his eyes away from that vivid desire.

“I’ve dismissed all the servants, so there is no one here.”

Just as he said, not a single presence could be felt within the vast mansion.

“There is plenty of food, but the variety is limited.”

Stopping for a moment, Aaron scanned the window, the outer lobby, and the garden. No presence was felt outside either.

“There might be some inconveniences. If there’s something you want to eat, you might have to make it yourself. Now, come this way.”

Lightly pulling the wrist of the man who showed no sign of moving, MacQueen added the explanation.

“…….”

Aaron recalled the dog’s crude and terrible cooking skills. Burnt, under-seasoned, undercooked, or too strongly seasoned—the taste was inconsistent every time. Despite that, the man looked at him with such expectant eyes that at some point, Aaron had to force himself to eat just to avoid hearing complaints.

“I suppose you know how to make food.”

The man, who was leading him up the stairs while holding his hand—which remained cold despite it being summer—paused for a moment. MacQueen stared at a spot on the floor for a long while, lost in thought, before shaking his head.

“No. I have never cooked once. I have servants, so there was nothing for me to do.”

At the blunt answer, Aaron let out a quiet snort. He clearly remembered the terrible food the man had made.

“You must have eaten something when you lived in the back alleys of the slums.”

The expression of the one asking the question was sullen. MacQueen tilted his head at the inexplicable spite.

“I wonder. Back then, I sometimes ate by rummaging through trash cans, or I ate dried rye bread shared by a warm-hearted lady.”

It was an answer given with a familiarity born of dealing with twisted reactions. It felt odd to keep picking a fight. Aaron continued his questioning with a slightly more sunken face.

“Have you ever grown crops? Or tilled a field?”

“It was hard enough to survive by begging for a day; do you think I had the mental capacity for that? Tenant farming is a story for those who have at least some leisure. There are many who don’t even have the capacity for that.”

“What about firewood for the fireplace?”

“Good heavens, firewood! I didn’t even have a fireplace to put firewood in. It would be more appropriate to ask if I’ve ever cleaned the chimney of a fireplace that burns that firewood. You really don’t know anything about slum life.”

At the absurd question, MacQueen finally burst into laughter. Thinking that his past, which he had mentioned out of a useless impulse a while ago, had planted a strange prejudice in that man’s mind, he shrugged.

“You’ve been saying inexplicable things since last time.”

“…….”

“I’ll say it again, at that time I didn’t even have the luxury to do such things. Everything was a luxury.”

“……I see.”

The opponent’s silence, a beat too slow, contained various emotions. MacQueen, keenly noticing this, sneered with a stiff expression.

“I suppose there was someone who knew how to do such things? Who was that person?”

The sound of footsteps following at a steady pace stopped. In the suddenly silenced air, MacQueen, who had been climbing the stairs quickly, also stopped and turned around.

“…….”

Looking back, he saw the man holding the stair railing, looking at him with a hollow face. At the sight of him looking pale and dazed, MacQueen sighed lightly, stepped back down the stairs, and took Aaron’s hand.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to reproach you.”

He admitted it. It was a pathetic thing to do.

MacQueen cleanly admitted in his heart that this was a fit of spite, wondering if these ridiculous questions were related to that person called Theodore.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

“…….”

“Your expression is not good. I suppose the way here was too hot after all. You should rest in the room.”

The touch fiddling with his wrist, palm, and the back of his hand held a certain persistence. Aaron looked down at his tightly held hand for a long time. The mixed emotions beyond the cold fortress wall repeated a cycle of being fiercely sharp and then wearing away to nothingness.

“Aaron?”

It was a tender gaze. Not the man distorted by ambition he had faced in the assembly hall. The man standing before him in this moment was merely a dog who had waited in a shack for him to arrive.

“Aaron.”

As the time they spent together grew longer, the boundaries blurred, and memories and emotions began to mix. Aaron could not even judge if his memories were real. His cool eyes, which had maintained composure, began to distort little by little.

“Aaron, please say something.”

The voice full of worry called Aaron again. Aaron, Aaron. A large hand soon covered one of his cheeks. The feeling of the skin, slightly rough and slightly hot, had become seriously familiar over the past few months.

“I can do nothing.”

You remember nothing.

Nothing.

Torn memories reproached the present.

“Nothing……”

Aaron carefully held MacQueen’s waist.

“Are you really sick somewhere?”

“…….”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

A tender voice. His closed eyes trembled. Aaron rested his forehead quietly on the man’s shoulder, gathering the emotions drenched in pain.

“Shall we rest a bit? Aaron, are you listening to me?”

It was laughable that his body was so visibly tense despite only moving one step closer. Despite having spent countless nights together, this greedy and vile opium merchant would sometimes be noticeably flustered by even a light touch. Even knowing that all those reactions were the acting of a performer on a stage. All the emotions showing on the surface and festering inside were a chaos.

How much of it was truth.

And how much was a lie.

Beyond the soft texture of the shirt, a familiar scent surrounded his heart.

“You have a foolish side to you.”

Aaron whispered, laughing as if sobbing. While he found himself pathetic and foolish for trying to find traces of memories the man had completely forgotten, he did not know how to stop. Despite failing and being disappointed countless times, whenever he discovered a part of the image he remembered as their meetings continued, his clumsy expectations would harbor another hope.

“That’s why everything is forgotten. The past, the wrongs.”

Just as I do.

He looked into the eyes again. No matter how many dozens or hundreds of times he looked, it was the same face. The opponent’s gaze, trying to dig up the emotions hidden between the lines, was persistent and cold.

“Have I done something wrong?”

The deep and quiet voice resonated from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Aaron lifted only one corner of his mouth and took a slow, deep breath. A fire spread hotly into the heart where night had fallen. A sharp blade sliced through his vocal cords. So that he could not utter vain words.

“The sin of deceiving me.”

The vulgar dog was still busy soothing him, observing his complexion. He didn’t know what calculations were running through that brilliant mind. He no longer knew who or how much the emotions stained with all sorts of deception and errors had swallowed.

“……Aaron.”

“Leaving.”

After speaking briefly, he cut off his breath. Strength entered the hand wrapping around his waist.

“Aaron. What on earth……”

“……The sin of making me believe.”

“Aaron.”

Realizing that a normal conversation was difficult, MacQueen simply pulled the crazed man before him into an embrace. A tender sigh poured over the abundant golden hair. The expressionless eyes looking at the sky blinked slowly.

“That is the greatest sin.”

“……What on earth are you talking about? Are you angry?”

“…….”

“Aaron, did you perhaps take some opium?”

At the tone filled with anxiety and worry, Aaron finally laughed weakly. What was the reason for continuing a relationship that led to no conclusion? The desire to destroy everything and the desire to recover everything intersected every day, meeting new life and death.

“……I wish I had.”

A sick, twisted, and gaunt heart peered out. The meaningless laughter continued for a long time after that.

A tranquil atmosphere flowed through the empty forest. Despite the warning that they might have to cook, the food they took when coming out to the forest was simple—just bread and fruit—but it was enough to satisfy their hunger.

“The breeze is cool.”

His gaze blurred as he looked at the open greenery. Once this season passed, the season of tedious rain would soon return to London. That unpleasant season that fills the entire body with humidity.

“Have you calmed down a bit?”

Aaron responded to the slow stroke of fingers through his hair by closing his eyes. Warm lips descended briefly upon his thin eyelids before pulling away.

“I truly thought something was wrong with you. Not once have I…”

MacQueen paused, taking in the sight of the man lying with his head on MacQueen’s lap. Since Aaron’s eyes were closed, there was no way he would notice how intently he was being watched.

“I have never seen you so undone.”

“…….”

“You seemed like a different person.”

The hand disturbing his hair drifted further down. To his forehead, still warm with a slight fever; to his thin eyelids; to his deep golden eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, and his cheeks.

“Are such actions not the very definition of the Earl’s justice?”

At those sudden words, a ripple stirred in Aaron’s heart.

Justice.

How could such a selfish heart be called justice?

I am merely.

You…

“The Duke of Devonshire is scheduled to return to London soon.”

It was a low, deep announcement that broke the silence. Despite the air turning cold, Aaron kept his eyes closed. Long, slender blades of grass tickled his slightly sunken cheek.

“It may be difficult for us to meet privately for a while. Since that period might be extended, I took the liberty of inviting you to Enfield.”

“…….”

“……I wanted to spend time with you in a place a bit brighter. Enfield House was the first country house I acquired after receiving my baronetcy. Some may scoff, but it is a meaningful place to me.”

The faint sound of grass rubbing and clashing in the wind echoed. It was a sound similar to the hallucinations he always heard on sleepless nights. Aaron listened quietly to the continuing conversation.

“There is one more… thing I wish to tell you.”

The voice trailed off, sounding distant.

“I intend to completely settle my engagement issues this time. I want to become a man who can stand before you with more dignity.”

“…….”

“Of course, it will take some time.”

The grip on Aaron’s hand and wrist, tight almost to the point of desperation, lent sincerity to the excuse.

“Aaron.”

The way the man spoke his name was incredibly sweet and yearning. So much so that it was hard to distinguish deception from reality. The touch of fingers fiddling with the stray hairs on his forehead held a sense of desperation.

“It may be difficult to keep in contact with you during that time, but…”

MacQueen caught his breath for a moment before continuing.

“I know this is my own selfishness and greed. Still, please wait for me. I will settle everything and return to you.”

Eyelids opened, revealing a hidden sea. In the green eyes looking only at him, one could feel a fierce passion. Aaron, who had been listening in silence, reached out toward MacQueen. A soft cheek met his palm. When he playfully tugged at the hair entwined between them, a low laugh fell like raindrops, soaking into his heart.

“Aaron, I am talking to you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not finished yet, so let go.”

Though MacQueen tried to hold his wrist with a mock-stern expression, the force pulling his hair did not diminish. The corners of Aaron’s eyes, duller than usual, curved softly.

“Fine, so kiss me.”

“…….”

“With a heart full of sincere apology.”

The hand that had been pulling the hair naturally moved across the cheek and dug into the scalp.

Following the force pulling him down, MacQueen naturally leaned his upper body forward. The clumsy smile of a man driven only by greed and ambition blurred into the scene. Their bridges of noses met amidst air that tasted of the sun.

“Must I, even though I’ve done nothing wrong?”

The man’s expression was hidden, backlit by the light.

There was no way to tell if he was wearing a brazen look or if his face was swallowed by his own lies. Aaron pulled MacQueen closer again and bit his lip. Warm air spread. Lips that had been rubbing for a while moved gradually, passing over the bridge of the nose and cheekbones to reach the earlobe. The sound of membranes touching and parting echoed loudly in his ears.

“……Do it anyway.”

As he twisted the cheek again, eyelashes of different colors lightly brushed against each other. Aaron felt estranged by his own reflection in the green retinas. It was a face that had lost its reason, intoxicated by emotion. In that moment, an invisible hand began to slowly strangle his neck.

Did I ever make such a face? Did I ever look at you with such eyes?

How truly terrible.

Aaron slowly pulled MacQueen’s body closer and buried his forehead in the heat of the man’s nape.

“……Do something.”

“I will do whatever you wish.”

A large hand cupped the back of Aaron’s head. A cool cheek touched him. Lips collided, and hot tongues mingled in the gap. In the midst of the lush greenery where the red sun shone and a cool breeze blew, there was no one to disturb the secret tryst of lovers.

✧ ✧ ✧

The Duke of Devonshire, who had left for Wales before the sweltering heat began, returned to London just as the season was coming to an end. Herald Lenzdoor, meeting MacQueen at Grafton Hall, delivered the tragedy regarding Elisha Lenzdoor with a complexion darker than ever.

Two weeks later.

Buckingham secretly dispatched letters summoning key cabinet members and some Whig Party MPs to the palace. Every step, from dispatch to delivery, was carried out covertly under strict control.

✧ ✧ ✧

Servants carried several large boxes containing documents and various ledgers onto the table.

“Since the transactions were conducted privately, most of it is merely circumstantial evidence.”

“As expected.”

Scanning the contents of the boxes carelessly, Aaron emptied his remaining glass. The hand repeatedly pressing his forehead and the space between his brows carried a hint of irritation.

“Would you like a drink?”

Picking up the pot placed on the nest table right beside him, Aaron offered tea to Miller Waison.

“Thank you.”

Along with a deep fragrance, the Miltonsa teacup was filled with reddish tea. Having drunk it all day, one might have grown tired of it, but for some reason, Aaron’s expression as he drank the tea was peaceful for a moment, like someone who had forgotten their pain.

“Earl, you look tired.”

Moistening his lips with the tea that still held a warm glow, Aaron put his pipe back in his mouth. Thick smoke once again veiled a face deeply etched with irritation.

“Perhaps the aftereffects of addiction are still lingering.”

“My, since I am also going through it, that is a joke too grim to simply laugh at. You are smoking far too many cigars; are you alright?”

“I think I should restrain myself, but it is not easy.”

Aaron sneered, slowly shaking his head from side to side. Dizziness and stiffness traveled down his spine to the tips of his toes.

Despite no significant change in his recent food intake or sleep hours, the accumulated fatigue would not easily dissipate. His body felt excessively languid, and in contrast, the frequency of smoking cigars or Leaf-Cut Tobacco had doubled. If he didn’t have something in his mouth, it was hard to bear the feeling of suffocation.

He was certainly not in a good state.

Aaron blinked slowly. Since their last meeting at Enfield manor, he had not had any encounters with MacQueen Lester. The private administrative secretary, who often served as a means of contact, no longer brought letters arranging the time and place for meetings. A damp, wet poison slowly seeped into his veins. Ignoring the feeling of his forcibly sealed heart being torn open, Aaron quickly shifted his attention.

“As you said, if it is a matter of aftereffects, you should seek medical attention. I have some minor issues remaining as well, so I never miss my regular check-ups.”

“……I suppose I should.”

Though he was naturally sensitive, for the past few days, even small noises grated on his nerves to the point that he could not easily concentrate on work. His insomnia worsened, and his mood swings became more severe. The fatigue surpassed a mere level and surged into a sense of lethargy. While thinking that he definitely needed to check his physical condition, a useless conversation continued.

“Since most of the items received from the Klaus faction or MacQueen Lester were consumed in full on the day of receipt, we did not manage the remaining opium. Come to think of it, we smoked it frantically.”

“Isn’t that how it is for everyone? I didn’t record it separately either, but I did find the records of items sent from Klaus Diugen’s side. I’ve also secured a few people who can serve as witnesses.”

Responding half-heartedly, Aaron pulled out a ledger tightly bound with leather straps. The thick leather cover, not used for ordinary ledgers, was evidence that the information contained within was secret.

“What is this?”

“A ledger.”

“If it’s a ledger…”

Miller Waison, staring at the cover of the ledger, let his eyes glint sinisterly.

“It seems Sir Bertram and Viscount Hampshire kept separate ledgers just in case. They are quite meticulous by nature.”

With a calm hand, Aaron opened the pages filled with various figures and writing.

“What you see now is the ledger they sent. I am simply grateful that they trusted me enough to share their shames.”

Some transaction records remained on the paper. Deep contemplation was evident in Miller’s eyes as he examined the details.

“Since the price was so high and the quantity substantial, it seems they recorded it through a servant just in case.”

“Then wouldn’t it be a problem if that servant changed their mind?”

At the anxious question, Aaron’s eyes curved deeply. A face that had been indifferent to any stimulus transformed into a bright one in an instant.

“Sir Waison, this is a game where we both win. The more they cooperate with us, the more wealth they will gain. There is no reason they cannot be swayed by money. They were all servants long subordinate to their families. Their loyalty is quite high…”

A low laugh he couldn’t contain spilled out. His eyes, staring dreamily at some point on the ceiling, sparkled.

“And should they make an unexpected decision, there is a proper way to handle that, is there not?”

“A way?”

“The most effective way to govern people is through fear. Once you identify what the opponent is most afraid of losing, they will push their own heads into the hole without you having to employ any further tricks.”

“…….”

“It is a matter familiar to me. I imagine it is the same for Earl Spencer.”

Realizing the meaning behind the words, Miller Waison also smiled thinly. The blue blood that had carried history and power for hundreds, thousands of years regarded even the cruelty used to achieve a goal as an honor.

“……I was overly worried. In truth, despite the kindness and consideration the Earl has shown, I wasn’t entirely certain. I wanted assurance regarding my personal protection.”

With a completely relieved expression, Miller Waison pulled a thick, palm-sized ledger from his coat and pushed it forward. After a long while, Aaron spoke calmly.

“Am I thinking what I think I am?”

A short silence followed.

“It is a list of attendees for the club meetings held closely over time… and a register of the opium and gifts contributed by MP MacQueen Lester. Of course, no meeting directly used my name or the Spencer family name, but the details of the Klaus faction remain intact.”

The man, leaning back comfortably in his chair, took out his pipe and lit it. Vicious smoke immediately filled the space.

“Earl Vispilt.”

Pouring more tea, Aaron tilted his chin, signaling him to speak.

“Even though my political direction differed from my father’s, as a member of the Spencer family, I too wish to carve my family name deeper into Westminster. To that end, I have willingly trusted the Duke of Cornwall and boarded the same boat as the Cornwall family. You may use this ledger freely, but I trust you will prevent my family from being exposed in the press. Of course, there are no traces of the Spencer family anywhere in the materials I provided, but I mention it out of an abundance of caution.”

He had no hesitation in revealing a heart that cared only for his own well-being. It wasn’t specifically because the man was selfish or despicable. It was simply because he had been taught from birth to stand by trampling others. Aaron felt no particular disillusionment at Miller Waison’s attitude, which was no different from his own.

“An excellent choice, Sir Waison.”

Contrary to the answer mixed with admiration, the eyes looking at the beginning of the document were extremely rigid.

✧ ✧ ✧

The sound of galloping hooves and rolling wheels echoed loudly.

Only silence lingered inside the carriage heading toward Buckingham Palace. The matters to be discussed with the Queen were heavy, and the problems they faced were equally heavy.

A Temporary Parliament had been convened due to the urgent situation reported from the distant continent, but the opinions of the two parties were hardly reaching a consensus. With the atmosphere clashing sharply and bills drifting every time a reading was held, the Queen eventually reached the point of summoning her political advisor, the Duke of Devonshire, to Buckingham Palace.

“The cards are tipping in our favor.”

These were the first words spoken by the man who had been silent. As the carriage jolted, the wrinkled hand gripping the cane trembled slightly.

“All the more reason to drive the wedge in. We must hurry and break the Rodinton news. The movements of Cornwall’s side in summoning Conservative MPs are unusual.”

MacQueen put down the materials he was reading and shifted his gaze toward the Duke of Devonshire. Since he had shared everything he discovered about the Cornwall father and son and Rodinton with the Duke of Devonshire, this was a natural reaction. After a moment of thought, he expressed his agreement.

“There are still some points that haven’t been revealed, but it wouldn’t be bad to expose it in the current situation. Strong words and a few details alone are enough to plant a negative image in the public’s mind.”

Rodinton’s management difficulties had reached a dead end. It was a disaster brought about by the ignorance and arrogance of an arrogant high-noble family.

Regardless of the actual intention, this was an opportunity to strike the Speaker of the Senate, who was the biggest obstacle to the Military dispatch proposal. It was enough to keep public opinion on the negative side for a while.

“When would be best?”

As the conversation continued, an uncomfortable emotion pressed against his lungs. MacQueen forcibly ignored the feeling tightening his respiratory system and wore a pervasive smile on his lips.

“I have bribed newspapers and organ newspapers so that it can be done at any time.”

“First, we must see Her Majesty the Queen’s reaction today. If she sides with us, is there any need to hesitate? It would be best to break it a few days before the vote. I would have preferred to hold it until the General election, but Edmund is unlikely to keep his hands idle until then.”

“Once the timing is set, I will have the articles distributed immediately. There are some lacking parts, but the important thing is not the truth, but the interest that captures the public. We can deal a fatal blow to the Duke of Cornwall’s family for the few months it takes for the investigation committee to be formed and the results to come out.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Before the articles are distributed, leak the word to government officials first. It will also be helpful if the Queen knows in advance. It is better to plant a prejudice so that no matter what excuses Cornwall makes, she does not think of them in a positive light.”

“Good.”

The hand stroking the graying beard slowed down.

“Set the schedule after today’s meeting.”

“Understood.”

“More importantly, is there no more information regarding Earl Vispilt’s shames? I thought he would cause trouble before long, but he is quieter than expected. Surely, if one looks, there must be something.”

“……Ah.”

“For instance, something like opium.”

The eyes of the old beast eyeing its prey sparkled. A satisfied smile was etched on his lips.

“Has he not yet stepped into the trap you dug? If he was an addict to the point of going to a closed ward, he would easily touch it again with just a small trigger.”

At that moment, various thoughts spun complexly in MacQueen’s head. Whether he should only expose the corruption of Rodinton and the incompetence of Cornwall, or whether he should also throw in the precious heir he cherished so much.

“That is…”

The face masquerading as coldness quickly became stained with anxiety. To gain momentum and achieve his goals, choosing the latter was the right path, but the task of uncovering the identity of the man named Theodore was still stalling, and several problems remained regarding the opium. Above all…

“I have made a few arrangements.”

“As expected.”

A satisfied exclamation burst forth.

“As you said, since he is someone who was once addicted, re-addicting him is easy… but I expect it will take a long time to get there. Earl Vispilt was a more prudent and cautious man than expected. He trusts no one around him.”

The words he spoke scraped harshly against his throat. Continuing to speak like a machine, MacQueen recalled the man who had completely let down his guard and fallen asleep on his lap during their last meeting. And that air, which had sunk too calmly, showing no regret at the words that they could not meet for a while.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“I cannot be certain, but I am bribing people through various channels so that he may touch opium again. It is just that there is difficulty in timing it with the exposure of Rodinton.”

“I see. Well, he is a different sort of fellow from his father. He is clever. He is still a young brat, but as time passes, he will be a greater threat to us than Edmund. It is better to take measures before he grows larger.”

“……Yes.”

“It may be difficult, but try to get him to touch opium as soon as possible. It would be best if he actually becomes addicted again, but if that is difficult, simply creating the appearance of it will suffice. Stories can be crafted as one wishes. After all, we have the most skilled playwright at our disposal.”

“I understand. I will try my best.”

Awkward lips delivered the answer like a machine. The churning in his heart resembled a mix of caution and rejection. To delve deeper, there was anger as well.

MacQuan did not understand his own state. Had he not done far worse things without hesitation? A few years ago, it was none other than himself who had leaked the relevant information exactly when Aaron Wizfeldon became addicted to opium and was admitted to the St. Louis ward.

He had done this before.

There was no reason he couldn’t do it a second time, and indeed, he had already attempted it.

‘There is no way I have any conscience left.’

Contrary to the thought masquerading as composure, the fingertips tapping his knee grew more awkward as time passed.

“More importantly…”

Mocking his own unfamiliar feelings, MacQuan naturally shifted the topic.

“Is Lady Elisha showing any improvement?”

“They say they are trying different medications… but they told me not to expect much effect. It seems she has developed a tolerance, and the medicines she took previously are no longer effective.”

As the topic shifted to Elisha Lenzdoor, the old Duke answered without hesitation. He seemed like a man with no interest in anything other than his daughter’s health, to the point where it was hard to believe he was the same politician who, moments ago, had been plotting schemes.

“For now, recuperation is the best course of action.”

Even if it were a strategy, MacQuan closed his lips with a blank expression at the news of someone with whom he had maintained a long relationship.

“How about moving her to the countryside, where the air is fresher?”

The Duke of Devonshire sighed deeply and turned his gaze out the window.

“It seems she has taken an interest in writing novels.”

“Novels?”

“She has been frequenting the literary salon hosted by Viscountess Berhemph, and I heard she started writing recently. She completed a few short stories during her last stay. The child was so excited that she showed them to me. They were quite excellent.”

Only then did MacQuan recall Elisha’s appearance on his last night in London, how she had tried to hide something when he entered her room. Thinking of her shy expression, MacQuan smiled bitterly. Unlike her sinister father, Elisha Lenzdoor was a pure and kind woman. It was truly regrettable that they had met through such a relationship.

“As a father, I do not know what choice to make.”

It was a gloomy tone and a fragile heart, rarely heard from him. MacQuan was equally unable to find an answer. His heart stung with every breath. His interlaced fingers were clenched tight.

“I feel sorry for you.”

“Not at all.”

“There were many things to consider in various ways. Of course, even if I could go back to the past, I would make the same choice.”

At such a typical remark, MacQuan chuckled and gave the answer the other man wanted.

“I feel the same. To me, Lady Elisha is a woman more important than anyone else.”

Sweet words were rolled out harshly. Morality and conscience were mere luxuries to him. Yes, indeed. While answering nonchalantly, the grip of his hand did not loosen.

“I am thinking of calling Elisha back to London around next month.”

It was hard to find warmth in the gaze looking at the scenery outside the carriage. At those words, MacQuan also wiped his expression clean. Elisha Lenzdoor’s return to London. The implication of that fact was clear.

Marriage. As he clenched his lips, tension naturally tightened in his jaw.

Marriage.

Eyes that resembled a midsummer thicket wavered, but only for a moment. After staring silently outside, MacQuan soon made his intentions known.

“It makes no difference to me.”

At the words carrying a heavy resolve, the Duke of Devonshire slowly turned his eyes toward where MacQuan was sitting. An outstanding appearance and immense wealth. A young, promising rookie politician entered his view. His humble origins were a flaw, but for that level, the conditions were satisfactory. The old Duke smiled contentedly and stroked his well-groomed beard.

“Will you be alright?”

Despite it being a coercion where the answer was already decided, MacQuan swallowed a sneer at the expression that looked almost moved.

“Whenever the Lady wishes.”

Clatter, clatter.

The carriage shook as it entered an unpaved road. MacQuan crossed his arms and looked out the carriage window. In front of a long mountain ridge, a steam locomotive was running with a loud noise. The head train was painted in various brilliant colors, boasting the style of the new era.

“Are you truly alright?”

After a silence, the Duke of Devonshire asked once more. A faint color surfaced over his cool, thoughtful face.

“You are asking the obvious.”

The old gentleman laughed lightly at the concise answer. It was satisfaction resulting from the acceptance of an unreasonable marriage—one where a proper married life, let alone the prospect of heirs, was remote.

“I am telling you this now, but I liked that terribly calculating side of you.”

“I am glad you liked it.”

“Elisha will be pleased as well.”

‘Though what she truly desires is likely not something like marriage.’

Suppressing a laugh that threatened to burst out, MacQuan thought of his fiancée. One by one: the luscious red hair that looked like melted sun, resembling her sister, and the painting bought from an old art shop in Grosvenor Square whose name he couldn’t even remember.

It is a marriage where I cannot hope for a family or children, but as long as Elisha Lenzdoor is alive, I will obtain that Duke’s guilt and support.

Right now, there is nothing I need more than that.

“I promise all my support so that you may rise to the highest place in Westminster.”

The following response carried both a slight tremor and firm resolve.

“Thank you.”

In this moment, MacQuan realized that he had finally fully gained the trust of that old snake, who had been like an impregnable fortress. It was the moment he stepped one step closer to his goal.

He also intuited that the time had come to settle things with someone.

It was time to bring the curtain down on the dense secret meetings riddled with deception. It had been a game of lies for about half a year. That was enough. Only a few steps remained until the position he desired most.

‘I dragged it on too long.’

At the notification that they would not be able to meet for a while, Aaron Wizfeldon responded with a short nod. The regret visible between the gaps of the mask pretending to be expressionless was certainly a real emotion. MacQuan had been so moved by that sight that he tormented the other man relentlessly, to the point where Aaron did not leave the bedroom for two days. The time spent at Enfield manor must have also been effective in diluting Aaron Wizfeldon’s suspicions.

A loose and foolish man.

The looseness of attaching emotions to an act of sodomy that was merely for the release of desire was simply laughable. Unlike the repulsion he felt at first, a relationship used for the purpose of sexual release was not bad. It must not have been a losing trade for either party.

‘A conclusion is needed.’

Contrary to the cold thoughts continuing in his mind, the face looking out the window was crumpled and a mess. It was an expression as if the ground were about to collapse. His chest felt tight, and the act of breathing was difficult.

It was strange.

Trying his best to ignore the wildly racing heartbeat, MacQuan focused again on the materials he had been looking at until a moment ago.

“…….”

However.

No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, the demand to apologize returned time and again.

“I understand, so kiss me.”

The command to kiss him.

“With a heart of sincere apology.”

He had no power to stop the trembling of the hand that had hugged him, the calm expression, the hesitant gestures, and the faint smile from becoming ghosts that haunted him.

Bwaaaaang—!

The moment his thoughts deepened, the whistle of the steam locomotive rang out long again. The trajectory of the railway, a symbol of industrialization designed with the latest technology, intersected with that of the four-wheeled carriage, a symbol of an old-world relic. It was a scene where one era ended and a new era began.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regardless of the various artworks and lavish interior decorations, the atmosphere of the meeting room was utterly gloomy.

“What on earth should we do?”

Deep anxiety cast a shadow over the Queen’s face. The military situation occurring at the port had been a headache for several years. The Duke of Devonshire, who also had a dark complexion, spoke with difficulty.

“There is no other way, Your Majesty. You must now make a decision. The Parliament has already been swayed by the conservative forces several times. While claiming it is for the sake of the country, are they not neglecting the task of protecting the lives of our English citizens trapped in Guangzhou? Do you intend to give up on the lives of all your subjects? Several naval battles have already occurred, and a considerable number of casualties have resulted in the process. It is difficult to stand by and watch any longer.”

“Sir Orwell, what are your thoughts?”

At the question, Foreign Secretary Bomer Orwell, seated opposite, also agreed with a determined gaze.

“The Duke of Devonshire is not wrong. I fear that if we continue to stand by, it will result in England being looked down upon by neighboring countries in the future. Summary execution? This is an event that could not happen unless that barbarian placed the British Empire beneath his feet.”

The eyes of someone watching the atmosphere gradually shift toward one side shone darkly. It was a light resembling euphoria.

“However, as you sirs know, the number of opinions from the Conservative Party opposing the war, led by the Duke of Cornwall, is by no means small.”

“Of course. But if the Royal Family puts weight behind the opinion of dispatching troops, the impact will be enormous. Especially for the centrist members of Parliament who have been wavering for years without siding with either party, there is no stronger prescription than the words of Your Majesty, who loves the country and its people.”

The Duke of Devonshire added his opinion to Orwell’s statement.

“That is correct. Sailors of the Black Joke have already lost their lives to Chinese outlaws. While there is no evidence of Imperial intervention, does this not speak to the atmosphere that has already reached its limit? Our citizens currently staying in Macau are continuing a miserable existence as the supply of daily necessities has been cut off.”

Hmm. The Queen groaned softly and rested her chin on her hand. The intelligence of the monarch, hidden beneath the subtle pearl decorations, was sharp and her reason was cold.

“England had to suffer through economic stagnation for too long during the last war. The side effects of excessive taxation still exist. Furthermore, there is certainly a critical view that opium is inhumane, and this is an issue that the anti-dispatch forces consistently raise. I agree to a certain extent. What are your thoughts on this matter?”

The Duke of Devonshire, pausing for a moment, lightly tapped MacQuan. His broad back was stiff with expectation and euphoria.

“Your Majesty, Baronet Enfield here has consistently argued for the necessity of dispatching troops for a long time. It would not be an exaggeration to call him the representative of the ideology leading Galloway. Although he has repeatedly tasted bitterness in the House due to Conservative plots, he has never bent his will. I am certain that no one in Westminster has pondered and prepared for this matter longer than he has. Why not hear the opinion of Baronet Enfield?”

“Ah, yes. I have already reviewed the bill you submitted numerous times.”

The Queen, still with a distressed expression, touched her forehead and set down her teacup.

“I am honored that you remember, Your Majesty.”

“What are your thoughts? Despite the burden England will bear, do you truly believe a war is necessary? Do you believe it is possible to persuade the Conservative members who oppose the dispatch?”

“A situation has certainly arrived where control by local ambassadors alone is insufficient. Your Majesty, if conciliation does not work, there are times when one must simply break through the enemy lines and attack.”

“Attack, you say.”

“It is time to prioritize the prosperity of the British Empire above all else. In recent years, we have clearly experienced a serious trade imbalance. Even the Tories will not be able to deny the current situation. I have prepared separately for the parts you are concerned about. Would you grant me some of your time?”

The confident tone and shining eyes added trust and persuasiveness to his words. The charge of a man who had seized an opportunity he had longed for so long that he could not remember when was relentless.

“Very well.”

“Thank you.”

The moment permission was granted, a deep smile spread across his lips.

It was the moment when the opium trade, which prevented humans from living as humans and annihilated the soul, turned into a business for the national interest.

✧ ✧ ✧

—!

Objects on the table fell with a harsh crashing sound.

“Young Master!”

Bernard, who had entered the study to report, turned pale and rushed over upon discovering Aaron collapsed on the floor.

“Young Master, what is the matter?”

The hand gripping the edge of the desk to support his half-collapsed body trembled. His face, completely devoid of color, was covered in cold sweat.

“Bernard…”

“My God, Young Master… please breathe slowly. Why suddenly…”

Rough breaths poured through trembling teeth. His gaze, scanning the inkstand, pens, and books rolling on the floor, shook unstabley.

Bernard repeatedly rubbed his master’s stiffened body and helped him over to where the chaise longue was. At the sight of Aaron, who had completely lost his strength and kept sagging, Bernard felt an anxious sense of déjà vu.

“Young Master, please wait a moment. I will call Dr. Boswell immediately.”

Even while trying to feign composure, the slight trembling could not be hidden. Bernard wiped his forehead and checked the door, fearing someone might see.

“…Water to drink.”

There was no strength in the suppressed voice. Blinking his blurred vision, Aaron flailed in the air several times before brushing back his sweat-soaked hair. Even a simple gesture was not easy. A sensation of melting and collapsing shook his mind for a few seconds or minutes, making him sink endlessly.

“Haa, haa…”

“Young Master, yes. Slowly, slowly…”

In the meantime, Bernard laid Aaron on the chaise longue and skillfully loosened his cravat, shirt, and gilet buttons. His blinking eyelids became noticeably sluggish as time passed.

“I will prepare water immediately, so please wait just a moment.”

The old butler hurried out of the study. Aaron blankly followed the trace with his eyes. The loud sound of footsteps hammered recklessly inside his brain. Every sound in the world was being input. The stimuli were sometimes too vivid and sometimes extremely dull. The sensations of his entire body became languid simultaneously. Muttering a low curse, Aaron covered his eyes with a trembling hand.

“So noisy…”

The familiar sensation of the mind becoming hazy and being intoxicated by boredom. Tens of thousands of insects wailed in a song of euphoria, crawling up his skin. The hallucinations and auditory delusions, results of long exposure to violence, always visited whenever his body and mind loosened while intoxicated by opium. Unable to bear the noise, Aaron covered both ears again. His whole body went limp, and a chill ran through him.

“I said it’s noisy… Bernard, tell them to shut up.”

Searching for the person who had already left the room, Aaron muttered the same words. The familiar, languid sensation surged upward from beneath his feet. The muscle relaxation that came simultaneously with heightened emotions brought him down several times. A hollow laugh escaped through his slightly parted lips. His eyes shook violently as he looked at his strengthless hand.

The boundaries of all whispers, smells, and visual stimuli blurred, and an irrational heat rose within his fractured heart. A languid and bizarre feeling where the senses that receive information stretch out.

Aaron Wizfeldon knew that sensation better than anyone.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Lariensa.”

The woman, upon discovering her mother, took her eyes off the book. Beyond the sarasa nameless curtains, the Duchess of Newcastle approached with an elegant gait.

“I received urgent word that Count Vispilt had a circumstance and would be unable to attend the dinner.”

“Has something happened?”

“They say his health suddenly deteriorated… but unless it is the person himself, there is no way to know, is there?”

The Duchess’s expression was tinged with a strange discomfort. It was because she had paid quite a bit of attention to today’s dinner starting from a few days ago. Thinking that she seemed quite angry, Lariensa laughed softly.

“We can just see him next time. Is Count Vispilt the kind of person to avoid a seat with a lie?”

“That is true… but it is just so hard to know what is in his heart. I still have many concerns.”

She was clearly referring to the gossip regarding the Duke of Cornwall’s family that had once stirred up the social circle. Lariensa sighed lightly and closed the book completely.

“Count Vispilt was a completely different person from what you think. He was very polite to me. So please do not worry too much, Mother.”

“Still, addiction problems are not so common that one would go to St. Louis. I do not know if proceeding with this engagement is the right thing. Your father’s will was very firm… but since you readily agreed to it, I have no way to stop you.”

“Several months have already passed. If you wanted to oppose it, you should have stopped Father back then.”

“Indeed, you are right.”

The woman, resting her hand on her forehead, knit her brows in worry. Her deep sighs suggested that this conversation was going to be a long one. Lariensa smiled softly and took her mother’s hand.

“Please don’t worry. Opium is widely used as a medicine. I heard he suffered from severe headaches since he was very young. It was later revealed that he simply crossed the line while taking it to manage the pain. Everyone knows that those who tried to frame Earl Vispilt for drug addiction were people intending to harm the Duke of Cornwall.”

“Still, isn’t it dangerous? We don’t know when he might touch it again.”

“The Earl Vispilt I met was a very intellectual person. When I spoke with him, it never once occurred to me that he was someone who had lost control while intoxicated. On the contrary, he was overflowing with intellect. Moreover, isn’t the Earl’s position entirely different now compared to then? Who would dare touch an Earl who has entered the House of Lords? So, please be at ease.”

Lariensa found it strange and almost amusing to see herself defending the other party so fervently. Certainly, when the talk of engagement first arose, she too had prejudices and fears regarding Cornwall’s heir, who was known as a degenerate. At some point, all those worries had vanished.

After their first meeting, the two had met periodically under various pretexts. While the meetings were largely for mutual interests, as they repeated, Lariensa’s impression of the young heir grew favorable. Rather, it would be more accurate to say she liked him.

Earl Vispilt was neat and polite. Though he openly revealed his calculating side and plotted various schemes, he respected her will and treated her with manners. With his sophisticated looks, tall stature, and lean build, he was physically attractive enough as a man to be a flawless—indeed, an optimally satisfying—partner for an arranged marriage.

“I intend to drag out the engagement period as long as possible.”

Lariensa recalled the conversation she had with her prospective fiancé.

“Every time the topic of marriage comes up, I plan to cause a small incident. Eventually, even that will reach its limit, but for now…”

“Then…”

“In the meantime, you should make your own plans. If you intend to go abroad for the studies you mentioned before, I will help you as much as possible regardless of which country you choose, and I promise to maintain the engagement. I will take full responsibility for the delay in marriage. If you wish to marry someone else, I will break the engagement without hesitation at that time.”

“No one knows what the future holds. What if I find that I need to marry you when that time comes?”

It was a bold question. The man, wearing an expression as if he hadn’t expected it, raised an eyebrow with one hand and then leaned against a decorative table with a quiet laugh.

“If you find you need to marry by then, you can just marry me. Marriage isn’t that important to me.”

“Weren’t you also trying to avoid marriage, Earl?”

“Not necessarily. I was simply looking for someone who wouldn’t interfere with me, whether in engagement or marriage. As long as you are fine with a husband who is a mere shell, I don’t mind. If we do marry, provided you do not expect the duties of a husband from me, I will help you freely do whatever you wish. However, in any case…”

The man paused and looked at his fiancée with indifferent eyes. Of course, there was no trace of excitement for a new romance anywhere in his gaze.

“There will be no heir to Cornwall born between us.”

It was truly heartless. Yet, it was precisely that which made his previous promise trustworthy. Because of this, the following question was a largely impulsive utterance, relying on the generosity the man might show.

“By any chance, do you already have someone you love, Earl?”

At the sudden question, the man stared off into space in silence for a long time, only giving a short answer by the time the tea had completely cooled.

“I have no obligation to answer you regarding my personal affairs.”

His tone was chilly, but no anger was felt. With those words, the corners of his lips, which had been motionless, curved carefully and very slowly. The emerging smile was perhaps as faint as the emotions the man possessed, and Lariensa could not bring herself to say anything rash.

✧ ✧ ✧

After the show of force at Kowloon Port, an atmosphere of reconciliation was created as they agreed to resume commercial trade, but it was short-lived. As tensions rose due to continuous profit-and-loss calculations and expulsion orders, it eventually led to fierce battles between armed vessels and the junk ships of the Daecheong side.

As letters announcing crises arrived at the royal court and parliament across the sea almost daily, public opinion in favor of dispatching troops grew stronger as time passed.

Following an unofficial meeting hosted at Buckingham Palace, the government cabinet officials, led by Foreign Secretary Bomer Orwell—who had maintained an observant attitude until then—gradually shifted their weight toward the Whig Party’s theory of troop dispatch. The Queen’s implicit will played a large part in the realization of this claim.

The House of Commons, responsible for the actual introduction of bills, was also buzzing. To propose the relevant laws, work was underway to review existing bills that had been derailed countless times. In particular, as the issue of preparing troops in the Indian governorates surfaced, MacQueen Lester’s day, as the primary proposer, passed in a breathless blur of busyness.

“It’s chaotic.”

Westminster Central Hall was filled with tools and materials in preparation for the reconstruction work starting in a few months.

“Construction is starting soon, after all.”

Scanning the cluttered surroundings, MacQueen nodded nonchalantly at Bomer Orwell’s words. Parliament was always noisy after adjournment. Today, the two were attending not as speakers in parliament, but as special gallery guests.

“If the troop formation for India passes, we must first look into the issue of transport ships to carry the expeditionary force.”

“If it happens, they will likely go from Calcutta and Madras.”

“We must proceed with the vote as quickly as possible. The retaliatory acts carried out by the Daecheong mainland are worsening by the day. The previous issue of blocking food supply routes was undoubtedly an inhumane incident.”

“Indeed. It’s absurd to be victimized by such barbarians. The issue of transport ship support within the Indian territories must also be handled in the House of Commons.”

At the Foreign Secretary’s determined tone, MacQueen smiled meaningfully and agreed.

“That is excellent advice. First, in the first vote, the majority…”

MacQueen trailed off as he sensed someone approaching.

“It is an honor to see Sir Orwell here.”

“Oh, it’s Earl Spencer. Glad to see you; I see you attended today’s reading.”

With a deep smile, Orwell exchanged greetings with Miller Waison. Looking at Miller Waison, who hid his true intentions, MacQueen skillfully swallowed his displeasure.

“Sir Waison, it’s a pleasure.”

“It has been a very long time, Lord Lester.”

Miller Waison, who had chosen a position of perfect opposition, was one of the few people who had forced MacQueen Lester to admit his failure.

Contrary to the expectation that he would clumsily keep a foot in both camps and behave like a bat his whole life, Miller Waison turned into an extreme Tory as soon as he succeeded to the title of Earl Spencer. The price for that shift from the center to the extreme was the position of Chairman of the Deliberation Committee within the Tory Party. Considering the reputation, ability, and career Miller Waison had after entering the House of Lords, it was an unprecedentedly exceptional treatment.

Even MacQueen had not expected the Duke of Cornwall and the Conservative Party to put so much effort into recruiting an incompetent, opportunistic opium addict. It was a complete failure of prediction. MacQueen shook hands with the opponent, ruminating on the failed investment.

“Who would have thought I’d meet you again in Westminster?”

Miller Waison, pulling MacQueen into a hug, laughed boisterously. The gesture of patting his shoulder was so friendly that an outsider would mistake them for intimate friends.

“I heard you’re getting married soon. I hear the ladies of London weep every night at the news of the most handsome Member of the House of Commons getting married.”

“That cannot be. Am I not a man who has been tied to a woman since long ago? I have simply reached the fruition of that now.”

“Come to think of it, you must be in the midst of wedding preparations. You must be overwhelmed with parliamentary work and wedding affairs.”

Bomer Orwell, standing beside them, chimed in.

‘That old ghost has already leaked the rumors.’

Displeasure slowly clouded MacQueen’s face. The method of spreading rumors before officialization if it benefited him was a tactic the Duke of Devonshire enjoyed. Although he had expected Herald Lenzdoor’s side to prepare first after that day, the speed and scope of the rumors spreading were beyond his expectations.

‘It will spread rapidly soon.’

A certain face came to mind, but he quickly erased it from his head.

“Not immediately. I expect it around next year. Above all, the lady has not yet fully recovered her health. Once a schedule is set, I will inform the Minister and the Earl. I plan to hold a banquet soon to introduce my fiancée. Since my fiancée is frail and has barely been able to attend social gatherings, I’m arranging this to let many people know. It would be an honor if you would gladly accept the invitation.”

Soon, an unprecedentedly lavish banquet was planned. It was a cowardly expression of paternal love and an absolution for long-term neglect.

“Of course! I shall gladly await the invitation you send.”

“I will also attend if possible. Ah, more than that, Lord Lester…”

Miller Waison, wearing a subtle expression, tentatively broached a subject. MacQueen, momentarily lost in thought, leaned in to listen.

“What is it, Earl Spencer?”

“Shouldn’t the past be buried in the past?”

The man whispered quickly before their close bodies separated. MacQueen narrowed his eyes, facing the old ill-will. After a short silence, he asked back.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been very interested in the press lately. I wonder what you’re making such a fuss about announcing. Especially in this noisy London where various stories already circulate without such effort.”

Only then did MacQueen understand the meaning behind the other’s words and laughed silently.

“My… Sir Waison…”

“One must be careful. I spoke out of turn in the hope that you would invest in the right place.”

Did he hear some cheap information somewhere? He seems to be plotting some clumsy scheme.

Eyes honed by cruelty glared at the man who had become an enemy.

“Aha.”

With a soft groan, MacQueen leaned in slightly, pretending to ask for another handshake.

“You certainly did speak out of turn.”

“I see this is the true nature of the Baronet.”

“Haha, Earl, I have not had a different attitude from the beginning until now. Perhaps you only saw what you wanted to see.”

“You…”

The man, no longer pretending to be polite, barked low like a vicious dog. Normally, he would never have fallen for such a provocation, but MacQueen had not been in a good state for the past few days. Since he knew the reason, his displeasure was doubled.

“The past always follows and grabs one’s ankles. Isn’t it fair for everyone? Of course, I too cannot be free from it.”

With a nasty smile, a snake’s tongue whispered maliciously.

“As I’ve always said, I don’t like deals without a price. I hope you don’t think I provided such hospitality out of mere goodwill. Since you are aware, I won’t say anything else, but I’ll simply tell you to always be careful. I won’t stop the Earl from voting of his own free will, but I hope you stop there.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Threatening? I am merely informing you. It is truly regrettable that you distort my sincerity.”

At the sinister threat, Miller Waison’s expression hardened with humiliation. The sound of his teeth grinding gloomily clearly showed the anger he felt. Miller Waison deliberately tightened his grip during the handshake and lowered his voice further.

“The Baronet should be the one to be careful. History has always proven that the end for reformers is not a good one.”

“It is truly sad that you judge the nation’s security only by political victory or defeat.”

“…You certainly talk well.”

Even if he countered boldly, the fear lingering in his eyes could not be hidden. That cunning young Earl seemed desperate lest the power and honor he had barely grasped slip away. He was a completely different breed of human from the other Earl he knew.

‘Such an easy betrayal; the previous Earl Spencer might be shedding tears of blood in the afterlife.’

The corners of his mouth, twitching, finally bloomed. A clear laugh burst out.

“Haha, please just don’t hold my ankles in the Standing Committee. As long as you don’t do that, you won’t need to worry about the past. I’ll promise you that much.”

MacQueen laughed heartily, forgetting that the Foreign Secretary was standing there. The desolate sound of laughter echoed bleakly throughout the Central Hall.

The sound of a pen being put down echoed particularly loudly. Even the sound of the second hand was noisy.

“What a terrible thing to do…”

A long sigh escaped from well-shaped lips. Eyes that had been staring at the ceiling for a long time slowly moved to the side. Unlike his usual neatly organized state, the desk was cluttered with various documents, a penknife, and crumpled papers. Amidst them, a half-written letter revealed itself. The content written in a soft hand on the white stationery was so petty and cowardly that the time spent crafting it seemed laughable.

“I am grateful for the efforts you have made. I too will actively express my opinions through various venues.”

With a face containing a fragile yet strong will, the Queen promised for the future. All the attendees at the meeting knew well the meaning embedded in the ruler’s words. It was the moment the royal family’s long-wavering position took deep root.

“I expect a different kind of result in the next reading.”

Tightly closed eyes trembled slightly. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity long awaited.

“Hurry. To drive the nail in, we need a major incident to damage the Conservatives and Cornwall before the vote. It would be perfect if they broke together.”

The old snake of Devonshire wanted to accelerate the downfall of the Cornwall family and the young Earl. The ugly urging, filled entirely with personal grievances, grew in intensity by the day.

‘In the current situation, Rodinton alone is enough.’

There were things left to find out regarding the transfer of major shareholder stakes in Rodinton, but now that the royal family had begun to move, that issue was no longer important. The conspiracy to incite the public could be sufficiently adapted using only the investigative materials collected so far. Without even needing to drag in Earl Vispilt’s personal problems.

‘Yes… it’s enough to seize victory without threatening with such trivial matters.’

MacQueen muttered excuses in his heart. Yes, there’s no need to drag everything in. Regarding the issues with Rodinton and Aaron Wizfeldon, he needed to discuss them with the Duke of Devonshire again.

Of course, there was clearly another problem that needed to be solved before that.

“Baronet.”

The voice calling him was always calm and quiet. It might be the original voice, stripped of opium.

“….”

The hand that had been rubbing his rough face slowly lowered. His eyes wandered between hesitation and will, before regaining a clear focus at some point.

“…I dragged it on too long.”

The voice speaking to himself was excessively heavy and colder than necessary. It was also the phrase he had repeated most frequently lately. MacQueen recalled a face he had buried in his subconscious.

Looking at me quietly.

Blue eyes.

“…I dragged it on too long.”

MacQueen tried to ignore the rising thoughts, but no matter how many times he tried to erase them, the afterimage did not disappear and only became more vivid.

‘I must have developed some clumsy physical affection. How ridiculous.’

He let out a laugh to dispel his troubled mind.

He admitted it.

It was a quite enticing body. He wanted to connect more deeply, to the point where he forgot they were both men and craved it even after indulging. The pleasure that followed was satisfying, but it was merely the pleasure provided by the flesh. He was not someone to be shaken by this formless relationship now.

The foolishness of being swayed by emotion had long been buried deep in the ground when he buried his own sister, who had died miserably without ever receiving treatment.

It had only been about half a year.

Neither organizing nor extinguishing it would be difficult.

Amidst continuous resolutions, the corners of his lips, settled in coolness, curved roundly. With a distorted expression, MacQueen began to write the rest of the letter.

The next morning, MacQueen Lester ordered the delivery of a letter to Aljef, as usual. Naturally, the recipient was Aaron Wizfeldon, Earl Vispilt of the Duke of Cornwall’s household.

✧ ✧ ✧

Thump—!

A loud crack echoed through the towering shrubs. The target was moving so fast, weaving through the dense undergrowth, that capture was not easy. Aaron braced his feet and pulled the trigger again.

Bang— Bang—!

Following the successive gunshots, the beast running ahead tumbled to the ground. The prey had been hit squarely in the flank; it struggled to stand a few more times before finally collapsing to the right.

“…….”

Still holding the reins, Aaron looked down silently at the dying animal. There was not a shred of warmth to be found in his heavy, sunken gaze.

Woof, woof, woof—

The sound of hunting dogs, arriving much later, echoed throughout the forest.

I am sorry to convey this news via letter.

“My Lord, I do not know how to tell you this. After several checks, it appears various drugs were mixed into the tea leaves.”

His indifferent expression flickered for a moment. Aaron fully dismounted his horse and walked toward the prey.

My longing for you is beyond words, but the Duke of Devonshire has noticed something suspicious about our relationship.

“Are you certain?”

Beneath the panting body, dark red blood began to pool into a puddle.

I hope you can forgive the choice I made to protect you.

“There is no room for doubt. In addition to high-concentration opium, leaves that induce hallucinations were mixed in. It appeared to be a type that causes far more severe addiction symptoms than opium, though we could not identify the exact species. I believe it was difficult to distinguish because it was mixed with very fine, strongly scented herbal leaves.”

Holding his long gun upright in one hand, Aaron flipped over the dying creature. Sharp, long teeth were revealed in its wide-open mouth. It was a struggle to survive. He pressed the muzzle of the gun—still hot from the carbonized discharge—against various parts of the beast’s body as if appraising it. No emotion leaked from his cold expression or his cruel actions.

This will be a very painful time for us. Even as I write this, my mind is filled with thoughts of you.

“Especially for you, My Lord… since you have a history of long-term addiction, you would have been even more vulnerable. If left unchecked, symptoms more severe than those from a few years ago could have appeared. In fact, I cannot say with certainty that it isn’t happening now. It is an extremely intelligent and vicious method, turning someone into an addict without them even noticing.”

The beast, which had been exhaling shallow breaths, finally dropped its head completely to the ground.

It was dead.

‘Again…’

Bang—!

Aaron fired a series of meaningless shots around the already lifeless prey.

For the time being, we must refrain from meeting. During that time, I shall miss you. Please believe in my sincerity. Waiting for the day we can spend the night together again…

The words from the letter that arrived last night floated through his mind and before his eyes like a phantom. Since the other had been avoiding meetings with various excuses since their last encounter, this was a fully expected conclusion. No matter how it was packaged, the reality hidden inside could not change.

“…My Lord, you must investigate all the food ingredients in the manor. In particular, the route of ingestion through tea leaves is the most dangerous. Or, there is a possibility that refined drugs were added to drinks. With liquids, symptoms appear immediately even with a very small grain.”

The Cornwall family’s long-time physician concluded his words cautiously, his expression dark.

“It is necessary to investigate the people around you. You must be especially wary of those closest to you.”

‘I was foolish.’

His tightly closed lips turned pale.

‘I was foolish.’

There was a time he wondered if they might make different choices. But that was now a fading memory.

Bang—

The ground was gouged by the rapidly spinning bullet. The earth around the prey was torn apart by the merciless firing, but the hand pulling the trigger did not stop.

Bang—!

Even as fresh blood splattered from the successive shots, the cruel act continued. Hatred and murderous intent toward someone were condensed in the heated muzzle.

Bang—!

Intense rage blended into the wind. A fragment of a bullet, ricocheting from the recoil, grazed his white cheek. Blood stained the path it left.

“…….”

Without even thinking to wipe the blood, Aaron stared at the already dead prey with an irritable expression. In those chillingly cold eyes, there was no trace of the heat that had warmed the night.

“My goodness, Aaron!”

The Duchess screamed upon discovering her son with blood smeared across one cheek. It was the moment the effects of his long recuperation vanished.

“I am fine.”

Aaron handed his coat and hunting rifle to a servant and wrapped his cheek with a piece of plain cloth. The wound was not deep, but because it had grazed a blood vessel, the bleeding was heavy. The white cloth was instantly soaked in blood.

“What happened?”

The Duke of Cornwall, having checked the state of the main hall, approached and asked. The old Duke’s expression was stiff, holding a document envelope.

“There was a mistake during the hunt.”

At the indifferent tone and the fact that he wouldn’t even meet his eyes, the old Duke’s voice rose.

“If I called for you, you should have waited quietly and been prepared! To go hunting because you couldn’t wait—you’ve lost your mind! Yes, you certainly have!”

“…….”

“Did I not tell you to always be careful? Your body is not yours alone! What am I to do if a fellow who is about to have an engagement ceremony comes back with a damaged face? Should I be glad that you didn’t touch opium in this state of mind? Not for a single day do you consider your father’s heart!”

The ceaseless barrage of criticism was like a torrential rain. Aaron responded with a light sneer and a listless tone.

“Are there not still several months left until spring?”

“It was postponed until spring because you insisted. Do not think that was my opinion. It is simply pathetic that the heir to a dukedom, who is actively serving as a member of the House of Lords, continues to delay his marriage. What value is there in a firstborn son who enjoys every right of the family but cannot fulfill his basic duties! Do you think I don’t know your ulterior motives? There is a limit to how much I can turn a blind eye, so refrain from vulgar behavior and conduct yourself properly so that no other words are spoken.”

Normally, these were words he would have ignored. It was coercion, criticism, and violence he had endured thousands, tens of thousands of times since a time he couldn’t even remember. Despite it being an attack as familiar as breathing, he didn’t know what specifically twisted his heart on that particular day. Aaron threw the blood-soaked cloth to the floor and sneered.

“I will be as careful as possible, so why don’t you withdraw the people you’ve planted behind me? Anyone watching would think I’m the most notorious criminal in London.”

“What?”

“You already know everything anyway, don’t you? What are you so curious about that you need to be reported on my every move to feel satisfied? If you are anxious, why not cut off my legs and lock me in the manor? Would giving you both legs suffice?”

“What? You… now…”

“Or shall I give you my hands?”

“Aaron!”

The eyes of the roaring man flashed with a cold light. At the prelude of the war about to break out, some of the servants of Pellynton Hall quickly moved toward the annex. No one wanted to participate in a war that was boringly old and more familiar than daily life.

“Can’t I only do what Father permits anyway? Did my own will even exist? Do whatever you like. Even if I am confined to the manor for several months and then dragged to the engagement ceremony, all I have to do is properly sow the Cornwall seed, isn’t that right? Though I don’t know how I’m any different from the stud locked in that stable.”

“You… you…”

“Should I just grab someone here and have relations right now? Shall I take off my clothes? Would you be satisfied if I made you another healthy and intelligent new heir…?”

Thwack—! With a harsh sound, his face was whipped to the side. The cheek without a wound flushed red.

“Duke!”

The Duchess screamed and reached out, but unable to overcome her hyperventilation, she collapsed back to the floor.

“Confinement?”

The Duke of Cornwall raised his cane without hesitation. The sound of it falling with full force was fierce and savage. Thwack— Thwack— At the impact that shook his entire head, Aaron collapsed, falling to one knee. It was the moment the Grand Duke’s meager patience and mercy ended. A sneer poured from his slightly parted lips.

He really endured for a long time.

His vision turned black, and strength entered his trembling fists. A violence identical to his father’s surged fiercely.

“Sow the seed? To say such filthy words!”

His shirt became soaked with dark red blood. His eyes were vivid with rage. The terrible sound of flesh tearing continued without pause. Despite the savage beating, Aaron did not withdraw his venomous gaze.

“Ah, this won’t do. If she isn’t a daughter of a noble house, even that woman will be killed. Though I wonder if you’ll let the child live.”

“You have completely lost your mind. Completely…”

“Surely you wouldn’t kill the child too? Then again, whether it’s a woman, a child, or an old man, everyone other than yourself must seem like insects, right? I wonder if it will only end once you kill them all and make a mass grave.”

“Aaron!”

At the sight of the man trembling with agitation, Aaron laughed with an eerie loudness.

Cornwall’s Wizfeldon. That name was power.

It was the rotten power and hideous honor he would possess the moment that noble phantom’s life vanished. It was a shining position that everyone desired and everyone sought to achieve.

That was why Aaron Wizfeldon had waited for so long.

He yearned to smash the history forced upon him by a monster with his own hands, to tear it to shreds and burn it until the shape was unrecognizable. He wanted to negate his entire life in front of the man who had spent a lifetime striving to place the heir at the highest peak. Because he wanted it so much, it was now difficult to control his emotions, like a broken object.

“Bernard, Bernard…”

The Duchess, realizing it was impossible to mediate the situation on her own, repeatedly called for Bernard. Even in the chaotic situation where the footsteps of servants moving toward the annex scattered busily, the violence did not stop.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

The Duke of Cornwall grit his teeth. After locking his beloved heir in the St. Louis ward with his own hands, he had endured and endured to avoid touching him again as much as possible. In the end, the price for showing embrace returned as atrocity. The world always betrayed his faithful heart and trust.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know you were wandering around as you pleased, treating me like a blind man? Did you think I would believe everything if you just diverted my attention with poor excuses about who you were meeting!”

“Duke… please calm down, sob… please calm down, Bernard… Bernard!”

The Duchess’s tearful screams grew more intense. The old Duke fiercely brushed away the hand of the wife trying to stop him and swung his cane again.

“Do you really not know why I let it slide?”

His body swayed, unable to withstand the impact of the assault. Simultaneously, hot blood instantly covered his face.

Regardless of the state of his blood-drenched son, Edmund threw the paper envelope he was holding onto the floor. Because the opening was open, a heap of documents spilled out of the envelope.

“See it with your own eyes.”

The Duke of Cornwall notified him coldly. While red blood flowed endlessly, Aaron slowly scanned the words written in the documents.

“After seeing that, will you still have the gall to discuss confinement?”

“…….”

The flowing blood had already soaked the back of the white hand touching the documents. Every time his long, straight fingers moved, the traces of violence passed across the papers. Aaron threw away the useless document stating that the actual owner of Briston House was MacQueen Lester, clearing it from his sight.

It was a foreseen event anyway. No matter how he tried to escape, the eyes of surveillance his father had planted in double and triple layers were not the kind he could avoid.

“I tried to trust you.”

The Duke of Cornwall whispered quietly, suppressing his rage. He was already immersed in the role of a father betrayed by his son.

“Thinking that if I gave you a chance, you would come to your senses.”

When he first received the report that Aaron Wizfeldon was frequently visiting a manor on the outskirts of London, he had simply dismissed it, thinking he might have a hidden mistress.

For a gentleman who had entered society, one or two mistresses were not a great flaw. Furthermore, unlike in the past, he had been reassured by the sight of his son completely quitting opium and devoting himself to parliamentary work, as well as his docile attitude in following marriage talks without complaint. The mistake was deciding to allow him a bit of breathing room.

“And you betrayed my trust again.”

He had thrown away even the last chance. The moment Edmund learned that the actual owner of the manor his heir was frequently visiting was MacQueen Lester, Baronet Enfield, he lost his reason and flew into a rage.

That vulgar man was trash who, in the past and present, had plotted to drag all the glory achieved by Cornwall into the mud. Despite the fact that he should have been fighting external enemies who threatened the Tories and the family alongside him, he could no longer tolerate the behavior of an heir who once again colluded with a Whig snake and smeared the family’s and his own face.

“To see you colluding with that vulgar fellow again…”

The words he couldn’t finish slid back down his throat. Aaron laughed quietly, watching the atrocity his father was acting out. It was a truly noisy opera, written and performed by one man alone.

“What do you want me to do?”

The air sank into an extreme calm. His face was a mess, with hardly a spot left untouched, but the gaze staring at his father was filled with murderous intent.

“Is the fact that the actual owner of Briston House is that vulgar opium merchant such a great matter?”

“Aaron!”

“Or are you saying that I’ve been colluding with that piece of trash? If so, what are you going to do about it?”

“Wha- what did you say?”

The moment the suspicion he couldn’t bring himself to utter was confirmed as fact, the old Duke froze completely, forgetting even his rage.

“Is the person who investigated this data still alive?”

“…….”

“Or did you turn them into a corpse and dump them in a downstream river again? Either way, it must have been hard for them to keep their life. Did you destroy the evidence of murder properly? Shall I help you dispose of the body? Haha!”

The son’s relaxed laughter burned through the Duke of Cornwall’s remaining patience. The despair he felt now could not be expressed in any language. The cane, already stained with blood, sliced through the air again with tremendous speed.

“…!”

His head snapped back again from the heavy impact. The Duchess, unable to either escape or approach the terrible sight, was on the verge of fainting. Aaron continued to giggle, his shoulders shaking.

“There is no dignity to be found! To do such a mad thing! To say such mad words! How could the sole heir of the Cornwall family say such mad things!”

The old Duke shouted in an agitated tone.

“How could I possibly dare to discuss dignity in front of the greatest Duke in this country? Because I couldn’t, didn’t I collude with a lowly person and play filthily?”

“You, right now, me…”

The fierce sound of tearing through the air continued. Aaron endured the one-sided violence with a face that felt no pain at all. His gaze, staring somewhere, flashed fiercely, but because it was hidden by blood-matted hair, no one noticed.

“Master! My God, my God!”

Bernard, who had been checking the warm water to wash the wounds, rushed over with a pale face. The scene unfolding before his eyes was a catastrophe he had never experienced before. The war between the two was not a new thing, but it had never happened for the old Duke to ruthlessly assault the heir in such an open place.

“You!”

“Master, please don’t do this, please don’t do this. Something terrible will happen to the young master. Master.”

“Let go! Let go of me!”

“Master, please, Master!”

It was useless to grab the old Duke without thinking. Instead, he was thrown to the floor by the violent rejection.

“How long must I watch the delinquent acts you commit!”

A beast-like roar echoed throughout Pellynton Hall.

“What on earth business do you have with that filthy merchant!”

My son, surely not.

Anxiety born from a small doubt began to eat away at the mind of the conservative and closed-off high aristocrat. It was something that should not have happened, but instinct whispered the most feared result. Perhaps, perhaps.

“You!”

Thwack— He did not dare find out what had been done with that man inside that manor. The fear that it might be related to what happened in Ramdiff Forest a few years ago grew the anxious heart the old man had tried to ignore.

“How dare you—!”

Thwack, thwack.

The terrible noise of flesh tearing and blood splattering did not cease. The eyes that saw the red blood became more engulfed in madness. No one must ever know what his son had done with an opium merchant in that old shack, using a different name and even changing his hair color. Even if it were the party involved.

“I suppose I must truly cut that bastard’s breath short for you to come to your senses. Only then will you stop looking elsewhere and properly realize your place.”

The eldest son of the historic House of Cornwall Wizfeldon had to be perfect, so as not to shame its legacy. If there were an enemy daring enough to leave a blemish, it was only right to erase their existence from this world.

Clack.

A blood-stained cane rolled across the floor.

“Yes. I cannot leave that fellow alone.”

“…….”

“I must take measures. So that he can no longer bring harm to our family……”

I must kill him. I must get rid of him. As the Duke of Cornwall muttered gloomily, his face twisted cruelly. The person curled up before him only breathed raggedly, showing no reaction. They were like a corpse.

“Huuu… hhh…”

The Duchess, her soul gone, unable to think of stopping her husband or shielding her son, continued to sob incessantly.

“Bernard.”

Brushing back his sweat-soaked hair, the Duke of Cornwall called to the butler, who stood in a corner, distraught. He glanced at his bloodied, collapsed son and clicked his tongue in irritation. As the madness subsided and reason began to return, the matters of the ongoing parliamentary session and the engagement issue rose to the surface of his consciousness. He could not allow the boy to handle external schedules in such a state.

“Summon Doctor Boswell immediately.”

After ordering the call for the personal physician, the old Duke ascended the stairs with a refreshed expression, as if he had finished all his chores. Because his thumping footsteps were so loud, he did not notice the presence behind him.

“Aaron, my child!”

“Young Master!”

At the sound of the horrified screams, the old Duke turned around.

Click. Simultaneously, the sound of a round being chambered rang out. The scene unfolding before his eyes was utterly surreal. The Duke of Cornwall, eyes wide, roared in fury.

“You bastard……”

Bang—

Before he could finish his sentence, a violent explosion sounded, and a portrait hanging on the wall beside the railing fell to the floor. On the wall where the high-temperature, rapidly rotating bullet had embedded itself, a hideous black mark gaped open.

“Kyaaaah!”

“Young Master!”

While the surroundings were chaotic with screams and blood continued to flow, the person who fired the gun remained utterly calm. The pale-faced man wiped the blood away with an indifferent expression and refocused on his target.

“Y-you’ve finally gone mad……”

Bang—!

The shouting was cut off once again. The fired bullet grazed him by a hair’s breadth. Only then, feeling the chilling sensation of the bullet passing by, did the old Duke’s expression harden as he grasped the severity of the situation.

“You have completely lost your mind. Put that down this instant. Put the gun—”

Amidst the shouting and curses, Aaron calmly loaded another round and held up the hunting rifle. Contrary to his expressionless face, a gale was raging within him. A sense of emptiness and lethargy, which no amount of power or honor could fill, overwhelmed him.

“Aaron!”

At the sound of a deflated laugh that didn’t fit the situation, the old Duke glared even more fiercely.

“Right now… just because I said I would deal with that mere merchant……”

“Hardly.”

Dismissing his father’s words, Aaron braced the buttplate against his shoulder and closed one eye. Having already lost much blood, he staggered several times, but the gaze staring straight ahead remained clear.

“…….”

With the determination to hit the mark this time, Aaron focused carefully on the target. Father. He quietly called upon the demon. A demon that had been killing him, steadily and firmly, little by little every day for a very long time.

His Adam’s apple moved sharply as he swallowed.

“If he is to be killed, I will be the one to do it.”

I should have done this sooner……

I dragged it out for too long.

The bitter self-mockery vanished before it could even leave his lips. His father, pale with fright, was trembling in his aged body. He looked pitiful, hardly the same man who, until a moment ago, had been rampaging like an evil spirit.

Aaron laughed louder and tightened his grip on the trigger. The gap in strength resulting from the physical difference had long since been overturned. The reason he had reached this point despite being able to reverse the situation at any time was the helplessness born from long-term violence. It was merely that kind of powerlessness that had kept him in this place.

Merely that memory turned me into a wraith.

“Aaron, my beloved son, my heir. You are the very essence of me.”

Even though he could tear out and stop that old, pathetic heart by taking just one more step.

“So, do not interfere in my affairs any longer.”

What was I hesitating for?

“You must not forget that your very existence is the family. I wish to pull you up to the highest place in this country, second only to the King. Aaron, you and this homeland are my life and my pride.”

“Nothing.”

Now, he had no one to protect and no one to hide. His mind and heart had long been emptied. If nothing remained, the end wouldn’t be so bad.

As he gasped for air, his shoulders heaving, blood flowed down in clumps.

“You’ve clearly taken opium again. Put the gun down at once!”

To the horrified shout, Aaron replied with a cold laugh.

“If I had taken opium, I would have stabbed your nape with a penknife already so you could breathe your last more easily. I am perfectly sane.”

It is only right that this tenacious ill fate ends by your hand.

A gloomy demon whispered closely in his ear. The hallucinations had started again. Whether it was because of the opium concocted by that vulgar merchant or because he had truly gone mad, it was now impossible to tell.

“Young Master, you mustn’t. Young Master— please—!”

Yes.

An unknown voice echoed in response. Suddenly, he remembered the ruined shack. The end of that small space had been a pyre.

The moment that space was covered in disgusting black smoke as flames soared, the moment the soul he had hidden away for so long was desecrated and annihilated—Aaron could not forget it, even after several years.

You will probably never know that humiliating sensation of the meaning and value one unconsciously protected being torn out by the roots. He and that demon were in a relationship that traced trajectories of chasing each other eternally, regardless of bloodline.

“Stop this, Aaron!”

“……Do not do anything.”

“Aaron!”

There was no more hesitation. He applied a bit more pressure to the finger on the trigger. No warmth could be found in the touch of the iron.

Bang—!

“Kyaaaah—!”

A scream echoed throughout the hall.

Smoke drifted from the iron muzzle. Deep internal injuries carved into various parts of the body that had taken the full force of the recoil.

“M-Master!”

Bernard, panicked, rushed to where the Duke of Cornwall had fallen. Because his strength had left him due to fear and shock, his aged body stumbled several times despite the short distance.

“Haa… haah…”

The old Duke slumped on the stairs, clutching one arm. His wrinkled cheeks, chin, hands, and legs trembled violently, unable to withstand the shock. His face, pale as a ghost, was drenched in cold sweat. The emotion reflected in the blue pupils passed down through generations was clear terror. The final bullet was embedded in the wall, completely unrelated to where he stood.

“…….”

Aaron glanced at his father, who was shaking so hard he seemed on the verge of fainting, and silently wiped the blood from his face.

“……Aaron, you bastard……”

A stifled silence blanketed Pelinton Hall. In a scene where time had stopped, no one could move, and no one dared to make a sound. A fear that their lives would vanish if they opened their mouths dominated them.

Slam—!

At that moment, a man threw open the main doors and rushed into the hall lobby. It was Caliven Wisfield.

“Brother!”

Despite the sound of the hurried footsteps approaching, Aaron remained motionless, staring at only one spot. A hideous, loathsome, giant black insect was crawling up and gnawing at his mind. A scratching sound echoed in his ears along with a stinging, itching sensation.

It was a terrible insect that had not left his side for a single moment since he had become powerless in the face of violence a long time ago, so long ago he couldn’t even remember. As a child, Aaron had always desperately wished for the insect filling his head to gnaw through his father’s flesh and bone and erase his existence from the world. It was a powerful hallucination created by a desire to escape reality.

“My god……”

“…….”

“Brother, Brother……”

Caliven had just returned to the mansion after attending the parliament as a proxy. He hurriedly embraced his brother and separated him from the gun. Aaron did not take his eyes off the Duke of Cornwall, who was dazed by the shock. His mind was swarming with insects, and strong liquor rose to the end of his throat. Thousands of legs crawled over his skin, and an evil demon whispered cunningly.

Waiting for the day we spend the night again……

The words from the letter changed into a familiar tone, whispering and kissing right next to his ear. Sometimes heavy, sometimes dangerous, and sometimes containing desperate emotions.

His consciousness grew hazy. No more strength remained in his body. With a sensation similar to being intoxicated by opium, Aaron blinked his stiff eyelids.

Was it my mind?

Was it entirely my memory?

The rifle, which had seen the blood of two men, rolled on the floor. The one he truly wanted to embed a bullet into until the very end was not the wraith sitting pathetically before him. The bullet should have been embedded in this rotten head.

“My god, Brother, Brother……”

“……Let go.”

“I can’t. I can’t, Brother.”

“Let go.”

It should have ended in that forest. It should have been burned along with the shack. No, I should have just let it die in the first place. He had not expected that the small spark of emotion, which he thought would go unnoticed even if ignored and trampled, would become such a dangerous, lethal poison that would choke his breath.

It was a clear mistake.

A definite failure.

Aaron leaned his head back while being held by Caliven. The light from the ornate lighting hanging from the ceiling drenched his golden hair, which was even brighter than the lights. The numerous lights filled the gaps between his shaking retinas, increasing the density of the madness.

A twisted laugh escaping through torn lips slowly filled Pelinton Hall. It was a frenzied performance blending with the elegantly shining chandelier lights.

✧ ✧ ✧

The weather had remained bleak with wind and rain for several days. The temperature dropping day by day, the thick fog, and the humid weather heralded the approaching winter. Only when the wind, filled with a cold chill, rattled the glass windows did the man finally take his eyes off the documents.

“Shall I ask Shuman to prepare a light meal?”

MacQuan absentmindedly pulled out his pocket watch. 8 o’clock. This was the limit of patience for a secretary who valued rules.

“I have no appetite.”

“You haven’t been eating properly lately. Shuman was worried, saying you’ve hardly finished a meal.”

Aljef trailed off with a concerned face. As the worry continued, MacQuan finally put down his pen. His face had grown thinner due to the murderous schedule that had lasted nearly a month. Fatigue filled the fingertips pressing against his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

“Shuman always worries too much. More importantly……”

Before he could finish, Aljef, sensing what question MacQuan was about to ask, provided the answer.

“He says there are no other letters that have arrived besides the ones delivered this morning. I have checked several times.”

Neither the one asking nor the one answering mentioned whose letter they were talking about. A profound silence followed.

“……I see.”

He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he hadn’t counted. After sending the last letter to Aaron Wizfeldon, MacQuan had been unable to sleep properly for several days, burdened by the potential reply.

However, as if mocking his burden and anxiety, the other party had vanished abruptly without any response. It was a perfect evaporation, to the point where he doubted if the memories of sharing bodies and time had ever truly existed. Even though he had personally severed the relationship, MacQuan’s heart was burning black in hell.

Not a single strand of hair was visible.

The expectation of meeting him even at Westminster Palace had also been shattered.

For over a month, Caliven Wisfield had been attending the House of Lords as the proxy for Earl Vispilt. Whenever he happened to encounter Caliven after the session, MacQuan was often seized by a terrible impulse. To ask where his brother was, what he was doing, why he gave no reply, and whether Caliven had intercepted the messages he had sent.

There were times he almost stopped Caliven Wisfield just to ask for news. It was a pitifully ridiculous thing.

“Shall I hire someone to check on his whereabouts?”

Aljef, keenly noticing his master’s distress, suggested cautiously. After staring at a corner of a document for a while, MacQuan shook his head with a deeply wounded pride.

“There is no need. Seeing as he uses health issues as an excuse, he’s surely caused another accident. Is he not a man with a colorful track record?”

The words were full of contempt, but his voice trembled slightly. He recalled Aaron Wizfeldon, who had been unstable during their last meeting, unlike his usual self. The man who was like a blade, alternating between hot fire and cold water, had shown a vulnerable side that day.

He craved kisses with a face that said no amount of kissing was enough. The way his body wrapped around me softly, the low whispers, the temperature that was both hot and cold—everything was unlike him.

‘Perhaps.’

A light flickered over his heavily sunken pupils. An old memory intersected with the present. A few years ago, Earl Vispilt had also suddenly vanished.

Opium.

Yes, opium.

His eyes shone faintly as he became certain of the reason why no letters were arriving.

“The hospital……”

His parched, dry lips parted.

“Pardon?”

Aljef asked back at the unexpected voice.

“Look into hospitals in downtown London. See if there are any hospitals that have treated high-ranking nobles for opium problems within the last month. A closed ward or even a light consultation is fine. It should be possible if we bribe the relevant personnel.”

Aljef’s expression darkened further.

“……Understood.”

“He’s clearly addicted to opium again. If it’s Earl Vispilt, he’s certainly the type of person to do so.”

“I will look into it immediately.”

Despite the loyal response, MacQuan could not shake off his anxiety, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fist. His thoughts wandered frantically, out of control. He wasn’t even aware that he was thinking such things. His fingertips on his face moved anxiously, but MacQuan didn’t even properly perceive that.

“If the fact that he’s addicted to opium again becomes known, his position will be narrowed for a while. Of course, it won’t be permanent, but it will allow us to hinder his return to Westminster until the necessary time. It will be a good piece of leverage.”

Though he maintained a heartless expression, the emotion in his murmuring voice was clear impatience. However, Aljef chose to ignore that fact rather than point it out.

“I will look into it as soon as morning comes, but since it is information regarding a high noble, it may take some time.”

“…….”

“So please do not think too much and go to bed early today. You have a parliamentary speech scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“I should. There’s no need to pop the champagne prematurely……”

Contrary to the trailing words, there was no trace of excitement from victory in his stiff tone. A suffocating silence flowed again.

“It’s late, and I’ve kept you here. My apologies. Tell Shuman to wait for the carriage and then head home.”

Seizing the opponent’s weakness to blackmail them and secure a favorable position. That was the most basic foundation for winning a deal.

“Thank you. And, Councilor……”

“Is there something left to say?”

Aljef hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

“Thank you for your consideration. I will organize the transcript and visit again in the morning.”

The secretary, greeting him with an awkward expression, hurriedly left the study.

“…….”

Only after the door closed did MacQuan stand up. As soon as the person disappeared from the room, the anxiety on his face was revealed without reserve. He paced for a long while before walking back to the window. The window, holding the cold night air, was covered in a pale frost. The temperature had dropped even further in the last few days, making it feel like winter.

‘Should I have met him in person instead of writing a letter?’

It hadn’t been years since they were out of touch. It had only been a few months. Nevertheless, the rumination was endless.

‘He might have felt insulted. He might have thought the relationship was severed unilaterally.’

He was a man of strong pride. A man who naturally enjoyed authority and took it for granted that people bowed at his feet. He might have felt insulted upon receiving a letter suggesting they take some time apart. Because he was a man with no patience, unable to endure a situation that went even slightly wrong.

‘It probably wouldn’t have changed anything, but……’

The grip on the window frame tightened further.

He had left room for a parting, but he had no intention of breaking up so abruptly. His plan was to drag things out for as long as possible. Even after his status as a proxy ended, he believed he could still encounter him at the parliament, as he frequently attended the Devonshire and the House of Lords readings. When the time came, he could simply bewitch him with sweet words away from prying eyes; as long as they both remained cautious, it was possible to extend the time they spent together.

The stiff expression on his face showed no sign of softening as time passed. Reason told him there was nothing left to agonize over, but his thoughts, fixated on a single point, would not stop.

The relationship had not been completely severed yet.

It’s not all over yet.

How to fix the makeshift solution he had left behind could only be decided if the other party were present. From Caliven Wisfield to Rodinton, Aaron Wizfeldon still had utility. Right now, he was simply angry with him. If he could just see his face and persuade him again, perhaps he would believe him once more.

“I trust you.”

His entire chest tightened. His heart churned so violently that it became difficult to breathe. Unable to suppress the nausea, MacQuan leaned on the table with both hands. Despite having barely eaten, bitter bile surged up from his stomach.

“I trust you.”

Yes. Hadn’t he said he trusted him? He was a man who had already fallen completely for him. Didn’t the gaze, the touch, and every gesture all speak of a single emotion?

All he had to do was whisper the sweetest words possible until the wedding.

‘That bastard’s whereabouts as well…’

Despite pouring in an enormous amount of money, MacQuan had ultimately failed to find the man named Theodore. It reached a point where he doubted if such a person even existed. Perhaps Aaron Wizfeldon had intentionally called out a nameless phantom in bed to provoke him and stir his jealousy. Yes, that must be it. Aaron Wizfeldon was naturally brilliant and knew exactly how to toy with people’s emotions.

Flimsy and impoverished thoughts continued endlessly. His mind was filled with illogical reasoning. To hide the feeling of misery that grew with every assumption, MacQuan covered his rigid eyes. His straight fingertips trembled slightly.

‘Just a little.’

Until the very end, his foolish thoughts persisted.

‘Just a little more.’

Without even realizing that his goal had completely shifted, MacQuan violently pulled back the curtains. On the darkened roadside, not a single person, let alone a carriage, was passing by.

The black night bared its fierce teeth, willingly welcoming someone’s frustration and fall.

It was the beginning of a long journey to meet the morning.