By Zephyria 
His mind was already filled with fantasies of buying Larien and Flat.
Of course, putting that brat in his place came first….
And with that, he fell fast asleep, snoring away in his bed.
*
By the time the carriage carrying the Count returned to the mansion, night had already fallen pitch black. Due to the Count’s extreme aversion to outsiders, the number of employees was remarkably small, disproportionate to the scale of the castle. In this place, where the staff consisted only of Penelope the housekeeper, a gardener, and three or four employees handling meals and housework, Penelope always saw the Count off and welcomed him back alone.
“Welcome back, Count. Did you have a pleasant day today?”
Instead of answering the elderly housekeeper who greeted him with a bright smile, Count Herringer slammed the carriage door shut with a loud bang and walked straight up the stairs. Glancing at his grim expression and tightly shut lips, Penelope pretended not to notice and hurriedly followed behind him, keeping her mouth shut.
He’s in a bad mood, as usual.
Since it happened every time, it was nothing special. Following him into his room, Penelope took the coat he shed and quickly began to speak.
“A portion of the altar in the sanctuary was damaged, so I have ordered a new one to be made. I was told it will be completed by the next prayer day. Sam mentioned wanting to buy new seedlings for the garden; please tell me which flowers would be best to plant. Or shall I do it? I will choose. Also….”
While the Count undressed, Penelope attended to him and reported the day’s events at the mansion. The Count, who had been reacting as if the words were flowing in one ear and out the other, stopped moving for a moment after hearing the next part.
“You hired a new employee?”
“Yes.”
Penelope nodded with a smile at her master, who was repeating what she had just said.
“I mentioned a few weeks ago that we needed more staff, did I not? It was difficult to find a suitable person, but yesterday a staff member who meets my standards finally appeared. They are scheduled to start working tomorrow. I intend to have them assist me in the general management of the house.”
At Penelope’s smooth answer, the Count merely furrowed his brow deeply. It was difficult to tell if he was truly displeased or if there was another reason. To Penelope, who simply waited in silence for what would come next, he clicked his tongue and muttered in his usual low voice.
“Do as you wish. Are you finished now?”
“Yes, please rest now. I shall bring the wine you drink every night.”
After bowing politely, Penelope caught a glimpse of the Count letting out a small sigh and resting his forehead with one hand just before she left the room.
Oh dear, it seems he is struggling with insomnia again.
It had been quite a while since the Count had been unable to sleep properly. Penelope had worked as a sub-housekeeper at the Duke’s residence, and after the eldest son, Cassian Strickland, inherited the count’s title and estate, she had become the dedicated housekeeper of the Count’s house. Because of this, she knew a great deal about him from his childhood to the present, and one of those things was his insomnia.
Just when did the Count start being unable to sleep?
She sank deep into thought while preparing the wine for Cassian. The sole heir to the Ducal house, possessing immense wealth and political influence, had once been quite well-regarded. He was kind to the employees and generous to everyone, earning the respect and affection of all, but that changed completely starting from a certain day.
Even now, he is not much different from before. Publicly. But that is merely an image. In reality, his true nature, known only to a very small number of employees, was entirely different from what was known to the world.
The truth was that he was a severe sociopath.
‘I can’t believe it; the young master was such a gentle person.’
When Penelope had lamented this one day, the head butler had let out a deep sigh with a complex expression. Around that time, only rumors that ‘the eldest son of the Duke’s house has insomnia’ were circulating secretly, so no one noticed the severity. Penelope had only heard it in passing, and she only realized the extent of it around the time Cassian officially inherited the title, became a Count, and came to own his own castle upon receiving the corresponding estate.
Penelope had been selected as the housekeeper for the Count’s house and became independent; at that time, the butler of the Duke’s house called her aside and gave her several warnings. As she listened intently to the advice of her senior and colleague, the butler confessed with a grave face.
That the insomnia suffered by the sole heir of the Duke’s house was at a severe level.
‘I suspect that is why the Count’s personality changed.’
At the butler’s words, Penelope frowned and asked.
‘Do you mean he became irritable because fatigue accumulated?’
‘Irritable—the problem is that it’s not a matter that can be settled with a word as simple as that.’
She was serious, but the butler’s response felt as though there was something more beyond that. As she waited in silence for him to say more, the butler rubbed his forehead and let out a deep sigh.
‘Right now, it only affects his mood, but if it continues, it will naturally be bad for his body. That is exactly what I am worried about. Perhaps I am thinking too far ahead, but….’
If there were a significant health problem regarding the succession, that would be absolutely, absolutely, absolutely not good. Penelope was surprised and greatly flustered by the butler’s reaction.
‘Isn’t the Count healthy? I’ve watched him for several years. He didn’t seem to have any particular problems, so I don’t know what you mean. Most of the people working here know he has insomnia, but I haven’t felt anything particularly strange.’
Then, she asked with a tense face.
‘If you’re worried enough that there might be a health abnormality, isn’t that a serious problem?’
If he had suffered from insomnia for so many years that she couldn’t even count, something that couldn’t be hidden would have surely happened by now. He would be pale, or collapse, or at the very least feel a momentary dizzy spell, but Cassian Strickland had never looked disheveled, nor had his eyes ever even been bloodshot.
‘I actually think that is a relief as well.’
The butler continued, agreeing with Penelope’s words reluctantly.
‘That is why I said I am worried about the future. That is the reason I am giving you this separate warning now.’
‘Of course, I’m very grateful that you told me in advance, Joseph.’
Penelope, who greeted him first, looked at him again with a worried expression and asked.
‘Just how severe is the insomnia for you to say such things? Can you give me a specific example?’
‘See for yourself; I’ve made a chart here.’
The butler picked up a file he had set aside and handed it to Penelope. Penelope, admiring the preparedness of the experienced butler who had managed the Duke’s household for a long time, took it. It took less than two pages of reading for Penelope to nod with a pale face.
‘It really is severe. According to this, he barely sleeps three or four hours a day. And even then, he wakes up every 30 to 40 minutes, which means he doesn’t even get one hour of proper sleep.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. That’s why I’m like this.’
The butler let out a deep sigh as if he were bursting with frustration. If his chart was correct, this was serious. The talk of the Duke’s heir suffering from insomnia had started at least one or two years ago. If the symptoms had started before then, it meant he hadn’t had proper sleep for several years.
‘What on earth could be the reason? Why is the Count so unable to sleep?’
‘How should I know.’
The butler shook his head and continued his lament.
‘Teas, foods, fragrances that are good for sleep—there is nothing we haven’t tried. I even had the primary physician prescribe medicine for him, but it was the same. I’ve given up now.’
He touched his forehead as if in despair. Penelope felt pity for both him and the Count and spoke up.
‘Has he tried consulting a sleep clinic? Ah, right. If he had, I would have known.’