3 – Act 2, Chapter 1

In 1837, following the death of William IV, Alexandrina Victoria of Hanover ascended to the throne at the age of eighteen, stepping into the peak of the British Empire’s glory. With the Queen’s accession, the cabinet was rapidly reorganized, and an early election was held to convene a new parliament.

The general election held that year resulted in another victory for the Whig Party, but as the gap in seats narrowed, the factional strife between the Reformists and the Conservatives grew more intense. The Prime Minister, the Duke of Devonshire, who also served as the Speaker of the House of Commons and the Chairman of the National Finance Committee, maintained his position, and MacQueen Lester also succeeded in his re-election to the House of Commons for the Westminster constituency.

As a Member of Parliament, MacQueen planned various bills to facilitate the smooth operation of England’s maritime trade, but in reality, his hidden objective was to open routes for the opium trade. The Conservatives fiercely criticized the inhumane and immoral tendencies hidden within the bills proposed by MacQueen Lester, but backed by the authority of the Queen—who favored the Prime Minister and the Whigs—his momentum grew stronger and more resolute over time.

Now, there was no longer anyone who dared call MacQueen Lester, the Baronet of Enfield, an opium dealer.

The following year, ’38, the Duke of Cornwall, who had remained in seclusion at the Northampton Estate for about three years, signaled a grand return by re-entering the House of Lords and simultaneously seizing the position of Speaker of the Senate. The return of Duke Cornwall, Edmund Wizfeldon, was met with cheers from the conservative press and concern from the reformist press.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Robert!”

MacQueen did not hide his delight upon seeing the man enter his office. Robert, likewise entering with a wide smile, embraced him.

“You look more radiant by the day. I’m afraid I wouldn’t recognize you if I met you on the street now.”

“Come, sit down. I intended to visit your office, but I simply couldn’t find the time.”

“The one in need should be the one to seek out the other.”

Continuing their playful banter, the two walked toward a drum table set to one side.

“Your office is truly magnificent.”

Robert Higgins let out a series of exclamations as he scanned the interior. After entering the House of Commons, MacQueen had rented an external office in the city near Westminster Palace for work efficiency, spending most of his day there attending to parliamentary affairs.

“The first reading vote in the Commons regarding the naval intervention is also hitting a snag.”

No sooner had he poured tea into the cup than MacQueen pressed his forehead and sighed. After pressing his temple a few more times, he finally couldn’t bear it and took a painkiller from the side table.

“It looks like it will be difficult this time as well,” Robert murmured in a worried tone as he lifted his teacup. As opium imports reached record highs, the Chinese side increased the intensity of their crackdown on the trade to protect their citizens addicted to opium and to stop the massive outflow of silver. It was a precarious situation, on the verge of military intervention.

“It’s because they’re all cowards. They start foaming at the mouth the moment war is mentioned. Now even the clergy are adding their voices, which is a real headache.”

MacQueen sneered, sitting with his long legs crossed. With a somewhat irritated expression, he swallowed the pill with water. Watching this, Robert spoke cautiously.

“Are you still taking painkillers?”

MacQueen half-heartedly put the medicine bottle back into the drawer.

“It’s chronic now. The pain becomes so severe that I can’t get anything done all day.”

“Still, it’s dangerous to rely too much on medication.”

“Don’t worry. I would never touch opium.”

“I’d rather not hear that kind of joke.”

“Haha.”

At the continuous nagging, MacQueen laughed lightly and shifted the topic.

“The Queen is still favorable toward us and very interested in the Indian territories, so the situation isn’t too bad. However, with each election, the gap between the Conservatives and our party is narrowing, so we must push at least some bills through to the House of Lords before the next general election.”

“Speaker Cornwall will probably tear them to shreds with gusto,” Robert grumbled sullenly, leaning his back fully into the sofa.

“He sings the same song every time about protecting England’s moral standing. That man has no eye for the current trends. He is nothing more than an old ghost.”

MacQueen frowned deeply, tightening his grip on the armrest. The activities of the old Duke, who had spent years eyeing a chance to resurrect from his grave, had caused more than a few headaches.

“I agree. I thought he would keep a low profile for a while due to his son’s affairs. Since the addiction problem was so severe, I expected him to remain in seclusion in Northampton for a few more years. He returned sooner than expected.”

“…….”

The man, who had been sharing scathing critiques with Robert until now, fell silent. Unaware of the subtle shift, Robert naturally continued the topic regarding the heir of the House of Cornwall.

“If he was hospitalized at Saint Louis Hospital, the symptoms must have been truly severe. Even if time has passed, one wonders if he has truly recovered. To carry such an addict around as a proxy… I don’t know if it’s foolishness or immense trust.”

“……Indeed.”

More pressure was applied by the fingertips pressing against his smooth forehead. Amidst a splitting headache, MacQueen silently traced back his memories.

It had already been several years since he last saw that young Earl.

Struck by the sudden realization of the passage of time, MacQueen fell into contemplation. His memories regarding that man were blurry; nothing came back clearly. He couldn’t remember how it ended, what expression the man wore, or what words were spoken. He remembered nothing.

After frowning for a moment, MacQueen realized he was wasting energy on something worthless and focused back on the conversation.

“We cannot let the heir run rampant while the Duke of Cornwall is at the forefront. The perception that the heir is by his side will only further solidify the Duke’s power in the eyes of public opinion.”

“Yes, Robert. I agree with your opinion.”

“It’s a bit of a despicable method, but how about bringing up Aaron Wizfeldon’s opium addiction in a public forum once more? If we claim that it doesn’t align with the prideful sentiment of the English people for someone with such an obvious flaw to return to politics so quickly.”

Robert Higgins’ suggestion was undoubtedly a rational one. For several years, maritime trade bills had been stagnating due to Tory interference. As the time spent failing to find a common ground between differing definitions and political views grew longer, the damage fell squarely upon many traders within England.

The Duke of Cornwall was a man who valued morality to a pathological degree. Using his eldest son’s dissolute behavior as a weakness to bring him down would be an unparalleled masterstroke.

“If necessary, we shall have to.”

A masculine, straight hand swept back dark brown hair. A sharp impression was revealed beneath the exposed forehead. With the passage of time, he had gained the seasoned air that comes with status and power, yet a raw edge still remained.

“But the time is not yet right. Neither I nor Klaus are free from that issue. Right now, people know but keep quiet, but eventually, the fire will spread to the suppliers. There’s no need to fuel the controversy. On the contrary, it might place that man in the position of a victim.”

Three years ago, the issue that began with a colorful article about the Prime Minister of the British Empire’s son being addicted to opium had expanded into the problem of decadent social gatherings held by the children of great noble houses. The reason the existence of MacQueen and Klaus Diugen, who were deeply involved in those nightly gatherings, did not surface was that among the people who would be mentioned in succession, a significant proportion held seats in Parliament.

The situation was different now compared to when he was a mere merchant. He couldn’t be certain that no madman would jump into the fire just to end a political rival’s career.

“Oh, Lester. That wasn’t my intention. I was short-sighted.”

“Not at all. As you said, such a tactic is actually the most effective. I am merely watching the timing. It’s not a card to play yet. It would be better to use it when the conflict deepens. I will take your advice into account. By the way, do you plan to return to Klaus?”

MacQueen glossed over the words and changed the subject.

“No. I intend to finish my schedule here for today. When do you plan to finish? Let’s have dinner together.”

“I’m sorry, but I must return to my private residence. My fiancée returned to London last night.”

“Oh.”

Robert’s eyes widened as he stood up.

“You should have told me sooner. Forget about the idea of working until night on a day like this; let’s get out of here. Since she’s come to London, has Lady Elisha’s health improved?”

Outside the window, the remnants of Westminster Palace, which had been completely destroyed by fire several years ago, were visible. He gripped the window frame tightly. Even the cool breeze touching his skin could not clear all the darkness lingering on his expression.

“It’s the same. She’s in a state where she might be hospitalized again soon. She might say she wants to hold a ball shortly. When that happens, please be willing to accept the invitation.”

“Of course! But wouldn’t staying in London in that condition be dangerous for the Lady?”

“That’s true, but the longer she convalesces in Wales, the deeper her depression becomes. She decided to stay for a while with her primary physician accompanying her.”

“You must be deeply troubled as well. You should establish your household as soon as possible.”

“Elisha doesn’t want to yet. I respect her decision.”

“Has there been no significant improvement so far?”

Recently, the primary physician had given the opinion that Elisha Lenzdoor would find it difficult to conceive. The engagement, which had been dragged on for nearly three years, was also an urgent task to be resolved.

Of course, the fact that MacQueen himself had no intention of properly pushing the matter forward played a part in the prolonged engagement. Unlike in the past, when he strove to marry Elisha as quickly as possible, MacQueen had shifted his strategy to prolong the engagement period as much as possible. Rather, it was a game that was more profitable for him to instill a sense of debt in the Duke of Devonshire.

“Therefore, there is no need to push it too forcefully.”

MacQueen draped the cashmere coat, which had been loosely hung over the chair, over one arm.

“I must go. Let’s head out.”

MacQueen’s expression as he looked out the window was distant, as if searching for something that wasn’t there. It was a habit he had developed at some point. After repeatedly clenching and unclenching his stiff hand, MacQueen tidied his appearance to shake off his thoughts and left the office with quick steps.

Memory and time were flowing at different speeds and densities.

“MacQueen!”

Exquisite Antwerp lace fluttered softly. Even as the hand-crafted lace industry declined with the introduction of machinery, it remained steadily popular among the wealthy. Seeing her for the first time in several months, MacQueen gently embraced the woman who approached him.

“Elisha.”

Her delicate face showed no sign of vitality. MacQueen looked down at her clearly sickly appearance with a moment of pity and lightly stroked her rounded forehead.

“Is it alright for you to be walking around like this?”

“Of course.”

“What about Dr. Jackson? I heard he was coming for a house call this morning.”

He removed his cravat pin and handed it to the footman standing beside him. The pale cream cravat instantly turned into a piece of crumpled fabric.

“The doctor visited and I had a consultation.”

At the satisfactory answer, the hand unbuttoning the cuff stopped.

“I want to stay here for a while and receive consultations from Sir Jackson.”

“There is a way to send the doctor to Wales.”

“I want to be in London as long as my health permits.”

Noticing her sullen mood, MacQueen laughed softly and patted her.

“You may do as you wish. More importantly, I heard you told the Duke you wanted to hold a ball.”

Upon hearing the word ‘ball,’ the woman’s complexion instantly brightened.

“Is it alright?”

“Hasn’t it already been decided?”

“I haven’t even told you properly yet. I just mentioned lightly that I wanted to, but my father took it too seriously.”

“Doesn’t that just mean the Duke cherishes you that much?”

That acknowledging you as his own daughter would be a greater gift than all that attention and support—he swallowed such a cruel thought.

Because she had lived a life completely severed from society due to health problems since childhood, Elisha Lenzdoor tended to be unworldly and innocent. While such purity sometimes led to ignorance, it was not to a bothersome degree, so MacQueen willingly endured the woman’s weaknesses.

“I want to invite everyone in London society. It will be wonderful!”

“It’s not bad, but a fight will break out.”

“Gentlemen and ladies do not raise their voices.”

“And yet, shouting matches always occur in the chambers of Parliament.”

Laughing leisurely, MacQueen instructed a servant standing a few steps away to prepare a new shirt.

“I want to dance the waltz; will you escort me?”

“Who else could possibly dance with you if not me?”

Whether it was a satisfactory answer, the corners of her pale lips curled up beautifully. MacQueen catered to his fiancée’s heart with an extremely affectionate demeanor. Even amidst the warm and soft atmosphere, MacQueen’s eyes were utterly emotionless and calm as he thought of the people he needed to invite to the ball.

Herald Lenzdoor’s love for his sickly daughter grew larger by the year, fed by tenderness and guilt. He was stricter and colder than anyone toward the daughters born from his mistress, but he was generous and merciful only to Elisha Lenzdoor. Of course, this was only to the extent of considering her an adopted daughter; his cowardice in hiding his own infidelity had not changed one bit from the past.

At Elisha’s word that she wanted to hold a ball, the old father’s wish to give his daughter a gift before leaving London resulted in the swift organization of the event.

“This is the distribution list for the invitations.”

Aljef handed over the list with a skilled hand. The draft of the invitation, which his fiancée had painstakingly prepared over several days, evoked no emotion in MacQueen.

“Is there a need to check? You’ve likely done as you wished anyway.”

MacQueen’s nerves had become somewhat frayed due to the ball-related work that had continued for several days. As he scanned the attendees, occasional groans escaped his lips. The irritated sighs stopped only after he discovered a certain name.

“Did the Duke of Devonshire review this as well?”

“Yes. After skimming through it last night, he said there would be no problem inviting them as is.”

“That cannot be.”

Understanding the meaning behind the words, Aljef added hesitantly.

“I checked several times myself, but……”

At those words, MacQueen checked the list again. Among the various titles and full names of the members of the House of Lords and Commons, only one name caught his eye.

Duke of Cornwall, Edmund Wizfeldon.

His straight eyebrows distorted.

‘Why this man?’

Since Edmund Wizfeldon’s return as Speaker of the Senate, Cornwall and Devonshire had spent their days in a state of near-constant warfare. This time, it was difficult to deduce the intentions held by the Duke of Devonshire. The fingertips touching the paper moved awkwardly. The contemplation continued until the moon completely vanished from the window.

✧ ✧ ✧

There are nights when it is exceptionally hard to fall asleep. On such nights, the headache was vicious, and no matter how many painkillers he took, the pain did not easily subside.

“……door.”

The voice calling out the unfamiliar name was very low and soft. It couldn’t be called kind, but it had a unique quality. The fluid pronunciation was so noble that it was languid enough to induce sleep if one listened quietly.

In the dark night, eyelids fallen into a shallow sleep slowly opened. The evidence of ambition hidden beneath thick eyelashes shone fiercely, even in the middle of the night.

“…….”

MacQueen slowly touched his lips, which were clenched so tightly they were trembling. His jaw felt sore, as if he had shouted in his sleep. The sudden headaches were growing in intensity.

“Ugh……”

MacQueen breathed deeply, swallowing a heavy groan rising from deep within. He knew all these symptoms were aftereffects of the accident.

It was a memory where he didn’t even know where it started or ended. He thought a few months’ worth of time would have no impact on him. He believed it wasn’t worth the effort and didn’t even try to recover it.

But.

Why on earth.

Even after several years, he couldn’t understand why a strange name—of which he only remembered a part—and the image of a man burying his face in both hands and swallowing a death-like breath would not leave his mind.

✧ ✧ ✧

The invitation list was lavish.

As if to prove the status of the current Prime Minister, the ball was more luxurious than the debutante balls hosted by the royal family. Grafton Villa, located in the West End, resembled a palace. Its scale and majesty testified to the long history of the Dukedom of Devonshire and the Lenzdoor family.

“My dear Baronet.”

At the sound of someone calling him, MacQueen turned around with a glass in hand. Realizing the man was a fellow re-elected member of the House of Commons, he quickly extended his hand.

“Sir Philman.”

“Thank you for the invitation. The hall is packed.”

“Not at all. Rather, I am the one grateful that you accepted the invitation.”

After a polite greeting, the man smiled broadly and stepped closer to MacQueen.

“I couldn’t possibly miss the occasion where I finally get to see the Baronet’s fiancée, whom I’ve only heard about in rumors. You really ought to proceed with the wedding quickly.”

“Health comes first.”

“Neither of you is exactly young. A three-year engagement—I’ve heard of many things, but never a case like this. Isn’t the Duke of Devonshire being a bit too cautious about the situation?”

“Haha, no. Everything was decided after a mutual agreement between him and me.”

“Still. To leave a grown man unmarried during such a critical period of his life is simply greedy.”

It was customary to marry around the early twenties. Men who chose a political path, in particular, tended to establish a household early—before entering Parliament—to have a wife’s support. Naturally, as the years passed, more and more people began to covet the promising young Member of the House of Commons who had remained engaged for over three years under public scrutiny. Just like the man standing before him now.

“It is a pity, but with various opportunities, wouldn’t the range of choices be wider?”

“Opportunities?”

“There might be someone else who wishes to form a connection with the Baronet.”

MacQueen remembered that Baron Philman had a young daughter who had recently made a glamorous debut. That fact immediately led to a sneer. Truly, would he marry the daughter of a fellow MP over the daughter of the current Prime Minister? Preposterous.

“I am still blinded by love, I’m afraid. I wish to focus on my fiancée.”

“My, my.”

MacQueen skillfully parried Philman’s words, which were phrased as pleasantries but were intended to probe his intentions. Over the man’s shoulder, he saw Herald Lenzdoor conversing with the Duke of Cornwall. They were expertly hiding their mutual discomfort, but the air between them was by no means friendly.

“A romantic tale indeed. I understand your heart, but a man can achieve greater ambitions when he has a home and a wife.”

It was an archaic ideology. From what MacQueen had gathered in a short time, Philman was not the type of person he could reason with.

“I shall take your advice to heart. Please, enjoy the party.”

“Now look here, Baronet…”

With a light nod to the man, who wore a look of lingering regret, MacQueen stepped away.

The music of the Royal Orchestra, sent by the royal family as a congratulatory gesture, resonated magnificently throughout the central hall. It was the waltz Elisha had wanted so badly. Handing his empty glass to a server, MacQueen scanned the entire hall to find his fiancée. Nowhere among the bustling crowd was there a woman with red curly hair.

‘Has she not come out yet?’

Recalling Elisha, who had been agonizing over which dress to wear for the party for several days, MacQueen walked toward the corridor. He figured his fiancée was likely still in the process of choosing her dress.

In the corridors outside the central hall, groups of servants dressed in uniforms embossed with the Lenzdoor family crest hurried about. The lobby, which mirrored the family’s prestige, was vast and grand, possessing a splendor rivaling that of Buckingham.

Turning a corner, the Long Gallery revealed itself. MacQueen’s expression remained devoid of emotion as he passed between expensive antique furniture and artworks. No matter how brilliant the painting or exquisite the sculpture, they held no more value to him than mere paper and stone.

“Hmm?”

MacQueen stopped when he saw a servant emerging from a terrace located within the Long Gallery. The space, carved into the middle of the endless lobby, was a terrace the Duke of Devonshire had specially created for his frail daughter, who found it difficult to go outside.

Checking the tray laden with wine and light appetizers, MacQueen realized someone was there. When the maid who caught his eye bowed her head, he gave a light wave of his hand and headed toward the terrace without further question. A faint smile touched the corners of MacQueen’s firm lips.

‘I thought she was picking a dress.’

His fiancée had clearly invited a crowd of people only to hide away on the terrace, unsure of what to do. She was that much of a shy young lady. While it wasn’t love, MacQueen cherished Elisha Lenzdoor in his own way.

His steps toward the terrace were bold and confident, mirroring his current state of having nothing to fear. As he drew closer to the entrance, the scent of flowers grew thick. The French roses that filled the garden were also flowers that perfectly reflected his fiancée’s taste.

“The scenery wouldn’t be visible anyway, since it’s dark.”

MacQueen entered the terrace with a relaxed smile. As he passed through the Renaissance-style archway, he felt a presence moving, as if the person inside had noticed the intruder.

“Lady Elisha, the waltz you love has begun. I didn’t think I’d have to ask for an escort—”

The playful remark was cut short.

“…”

The owner of the silhouette, who turned halfway around, was someone MacQueen Lester had not expected at all.

“I told you nothing more was needed…”

The other person was equally unable to continue speaking. Since it was well past evening, the sky had already grown dark. Only the central hall beyond the terrace shone brightly with chandeliers. A wind, still laced with chill, blew through.

“…”

The person standing straight amidst the dim light was someone MacQueen knew well. The evening dress tailored to a lean silhouette, and the bright, sweet blonde hair that melted into the light.

The man’s face was slightly more mature and more beautiful than the image in his memory. It felt as though the passing time had layered upon him, making him feel more solid and complete.

“…”

After staring at the other man in silence for a long while, MacQueen’s eyes slowly moved to the man’s hand holding a glass. The gesture of elegantly swirling the wine was familiar yet strange, natural yet unsettling. The memories hidden within his long-drawn eyes quickly traced back to the past.

A hand wearing a black glove that hid a distorted face. A low laugh that sounded like a sob.

The degenerate of the Duke of Cornwall’s house standing before him was no longer intoxicated by drugs. His piercingly blue eyes shone with intelligence, and his gloves were no longer black, but white, fitting the manners of a gentleman. For some reason, one hand was ungloved; the long, slender fingers were white and smooth, befitting the child of a high noble who had never known hardship in his life.

Was he always like that?

Despite it being natural, MacQueen felt an odd sense of dissonance toward the flawless hand. Noticing MacQueen’s gaze glancing at his hand, the man gave a light sneer, set down his glass, and put on the remaining glove.

“…What is the meaning of this.”

There was no emotion to be felt in the eyes that looked straight at him. He seemed like a person whose emotions themselves had vanished.

“The drug-peddling rat.”

“Theo…”

Tinnitus, sounding like overlapping voices, rang out in no particular order, causing MacQueen to frown. At the unpleasant sensation of his memories becoming a tangled mess, he rubbed his eyelids and the bridge of his nose several times. He had only had two glasses of whiskey, but he wasn’t in a good state. Or perhaps it was because of the painkiller he had taken in the afternoon.

“I have committed a discourtesy, Earl Vispilt. It has been a long time.”

“I see.”

He tried to continue the conversation lightly, but his stiff tongue would not move easily. Strangely, he was afraid to meet the other’s eyes again. It was a moment where the title of the ‘Young Lion of Westminster,’ who proposed dozens of bills and did not shy away from harsh words in the joint readings of both Houses, felt pathetic.

Perhaps the other man also had nothing to say, as only silence flowed between them. As MacQueen stood with his lips tightly shut, his gaze fixed somewhere in the garden, Earl Vispilt gave a light sigh and turned his back again.

“If you have no business here, you may leave.”

Only then could MacQueen look straight at Aaron Wizfeldon. Or rather, at his back.

“…”

It was a perfect blockade, as if the moment their eyes had met was a lie. Despite being in the same space, an invisible wall existed. There was no way of knowing what that young Earl was looking at or thinking while standing there blankly.

He could simply turn around and leave.

“…”

He certainly thought so, but for some reason, his feet would not move easily.

Why? Why?

No matter how many times he asked himself, no answer came. Eventually, after hesitating for a long time, MacQueen offered another superficial greeting.

“My Lord.”

“…”

“Only the Duke of Cornwall was listed on the guest list, so I didn’t think you would be coming.”

Whether he was trying to ignore him or not, it was only after a significant amount of time had passed that Aaron Wizfeldon turned around again. The air was cold enough to make the greeting meaningless.

“He asked me to accompany him.”

The flow was broken again. MacQueen swallowed hard at the conversation that refused to connect. If the conversation was uncomfortable, he could just leave, but his actions and words were moving in a different direction from his reason.

“Is your health doing any better?”

At the words laced with concern, the composure of the man’s face cracked.

“I was discharged from the hospital last month.”

“…I see.”

“Fortunately, I have improved greatly.”

The young Earl opened his hand and flipped it back and forth, adding with a smirk. It was a straight, long hand, but upon closer inspection, one could see it trembling minutely. A faint exclamation escaped MacQueen’s lips involuntarily. It was because the symptom typical of opium addicts came to mind. The tip of his tongue felt strangely bitter. Ignoring the feeling of pressure on his chest, MacQueen sneered coldly.

“From my perspective, it seems you still need more treatment.”

One of the pale golden eyebrows arched slightly.

“I wonder.”

His drawn-out way of speaking was languid.

“I heard the air in the Devonshire region is good. Are you planning to provide support for my treatment?”

A clear mockery settled over his cool eyes. Faced with contempt for the first time in a long while, MacQueen could not hide his surge of irritation.

“I would be more than happy to help if you wish.”

“I heard you entered the House of Commons. The Westminster constituency—should I congratulate you? I’ve heard much about how you’re diligently proposing bills for the Baronet’s company.”

His hand traced the railing leisurely. The moonlight dimly illuminated his bloodless face. MacQueen’s expression immediately turned sharp as he caught the intent behind the words.

“For my company? My Lord, those are words that could be greatly misunderstood.”

“As you know, I owe a great deal to your company.”

The man, raising a clenched fist, smiled brightly.

“I suspect I might have been Klaus Diugen’s most valued customer.”

A dark, deep, and unpleasant sensation slowly rose. His handsome face distorted fiercely. An attack on Klaus was akin to an attack on himself.

‘Right. You were this kind of person.’

MacQueen remembered the madman who would make someone fill a glass dropped at his feet and then shoot them. All those actions were possible because he did not view others as fellow human beings. He had forgotten. How arrogant and trashy of a human this man before him was. How incompetent, foolish, and ignorant. He had almost forgotten, relying on distorted memories.

MacQueen bared his angry teeth and struck back.

“I apologize for the lack of thorough customer management. As you mentioned, would it be alright if I asked Lord Lenzdoor to recommend a good treatment facility in the Devonshire region for you?”

“If you had done that sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted my time in Saint Louis.”

“Anywhere would be more comfortable than the White Chamber.”

It was a warning to stop eyeing the House of Lords and return to the hospital. In the past, he would have phrased it flexibly, but the situation was different now. In just a few years, MacQueen had stepped one level higher. Even if it were the King, he could no longer command MacQueen to pick up a fallen glass and receive wine.

“Am I mistaken in hearing this as a suggestion to stay tucked away in a place with good air?”

“That is not what I meant. As you know, the environment in London is not ideal for a patient’s recuperation. I spoke out of concern.”

Aaron Wizfeldon also held the title of Earl Vispilt in his own right. The reason he had returned to London now was clearly a signal that he intended to make a full-scale entry into the House of Lords using his own earldom, rather than as Cornwall’s proxy. The sight of an opium addict with no ability or experience trying to seize power through family influence was laughable and contemptible.

“I believe I’ve been confined enough.”

“It seems the Duke was worried about his son’s health.”

Aaron tilted his head with an intrigued expression. It was a gaze imbued with his characteristic arrogance and leisure.

“In the time since I last saw you…”

“MacQueen!”

Two voices rang out simultaneously. At the soft scent resembling a spring breeze, MacQueen hurriedly turned around. Elisha, with an expression more flushed than usual, was approaching him with hurried steps.

“Why are you here? The waltz is playing. Hurry…”

Elisha grabbed MacQueen’s arm to pull him away, but then she noticed another presence and recoiled in surprise.

“Oh my.”

Her pink lips parted slightly. Realizing she had behaved rudely in front of a stranger, Elisha’s cheeks immediately flushed. Watching this, Aaron’s handsome face also frowned slightly.

“You have quite the woman as your fiancée.”

It was an unfiltered criticism. MacQueen, who had remained largely unresponsive to the other’s provocations until now, also became sharply defensive. He hid his flustered fiancée behind his back and growled low.

“Sir Wizfeldon, what exactly do you mean by that?”

The tone that had maintained a semblance of politeness vanished completely. It was the attitude of a man seeking to protect someone who belonged to him. His eyes sank coldly as he stared at the man, while his hand shielded the woman behind him. His firmly closed lips curled into a crooked smirk.

“Exactly what I said. How you interpret it is up to you, Sir.”

“May I take it that the Earl is taking issue with my fiancée’s behavior?”

“I’m not sure what the Baronet is trying to say. I don’t know in what sense you’ve interpreted it.”

The blue flame was not just anger; it was mixed with impurities of another emotion. Aaron’s expression as he shot back was colder than anything before.

“MacQueen. Is it because of me? If I apologize…”

Feeling the atmosphere turn frigid in an instant, Elisha gripped MacQueen’s clothes tighter. Sensing her anxiety, MacQueen’s complexion calmed. Today’s protagonist was, after all, his fiancée. MacQueen turned back and gently grasped the wrist of the hand holding onto him.

“Lady Elisha.”

MacQueen met her eyes and called her as tenderly as possible.

“It is not your fault.”

“MacQueen…”

“Do not worry. You have done nothing wrong.”

MacQueen carefully comforted Elisha and pulled her into his arms. The expression of the one watching this scene froze even more coldly, but no one noticed.

“Since that is the Earl’s intention, I apologize for reacting sensitively. Please enjoy the banquet.”

Still holding his fiancée with one arm, MacQueen ruthlessly cut off the war of attrition between the two.

“I shall be going now.”

Contrary to his skillful words, MacQueen did not feel good. Despite it being a justified anger, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was bullying the other man. He even felt as if he were tormenting someone weak. It was an incomprehensible thought.

If he faced that pretty face any longer, his mood would surely be ruined for the rest of the banquet. It was better to avoid that sort of person as much as possible. He gave a short bow and left the terrace with his fiancée.

“…”

Watching them leave, Aaron slightly opened his lips, then closed them tightly again, maintaining silence. Even if he poured out his heart, nothing would change.

The sound of footsteps on the marble floor repeatedly scattered and gathered.

“MacQueen…”

The expression of the man walking ahead was cold and stubborn. He tightened his grip on the hand he held.

“MacQueen, I’m sorry. Is this a difficult situation because of me?”

Elisha thought of the man who had been at odds with her fiancé until a moment ago. She whispered in a crestfallen tone.

“I don’t think he said anything that harsh to me.”

The hurried steps stopped abruptly. After catching his breath for a moment, MacQueen shook his head, his face devoid of any smile.

“Lady Elisha, I know you are a very kind person. Unfortunately, regardless of your warm heart, Earl Vispilt is a man with a naturally poor disposition. He is not the type of person you need to consider, so please do not let it bother you.”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Do not let it weigh on you.”

Contrary to his considerate words, MacQueen’s attitude was firm. In the awkward atmosphere, the conversation did not continue further.

‘Who was he?’

He was a man who looked strangely lonely. All the way back, Elisha looked back several times, chasing the afterimage of the man on the terrace.

Only after the presence of others had completely vanished did Aaron turn back toward the terrace entrance. The two were no longer in sight. A deep, heavy sigh escaped him. His pallid complexion was, at a glance, not very good.

“…”

Aaron slowly extended his right hand. There was a tremor, so minute that one wouldn’t notice unless they looked closely. It was always like this if he didn’t consciously apply strength. The doctor who had treated him for a long time during his final consultation before discharge had expressed concern.

“Truly, you must never use the drugs again.”

“Do not take addiction symptoms lightly. You must not think of opium as a mere painkiller. Once nerves are damaged, they cannot be restored. You are in a position where you must continue rehabilitation for the next few years, Earl. Please try to reduce your intake of alcohol and cigarettes as well.”

Aaron smiled silently and rotated his ungloved hand back and forth. During his treatment, he had not once held a carving tool. His hands were clean, to the point where he no longer needed to wear black gloves to hide new wounds and flowing blood.

Suddenly, he recalled a touch that had removed his gloves so clumsily.

The stubbornly closed lips, and the gaze that had focused only on him.

With both hands gripping the terrace railing, Aaron slowly leaned his upper body outward. The cold night air brushed past his cheeks. He felt a damp moisture. The eyelashes resting heavily over his closed eyes trembled.

It had been a fleeting amusement, but it was a memory, an emotion, and a relationship that had certainly existed. On a certain summer day, in an old shack, all those memories had definitely existed. The reason he had lost his mind was that those memories had all become illusions. Because he was now the only one who remembered a time that had truly existed.

The time had certainly existed, but the emotions left no trace. It was a phenomenon that could not be explained even by the induction of Novum Organum.

“How ridiculous.”

A low laugh slowly scattered on the fluttering breeze. He found it unbearable how foolish and absurd he looked, having followed his father to this ridiculous banquet under the pretext of assisting him.

After scanning the vast, lightless garden for a long while, Aaron took a deep breath one last time to inhale as much of the night air as possible. The air, a mixture of clear wind and the scent of grass, comforted the exhausted heart of one who had spent hellish hours amidst auditory and visual hallucinations. A hum, so soft it could not be heard unless one listened intently, blended into the night air.

The days when they would swim in the lake on hot days, eat whatever food was available, and carve while sitting in an armchair—a time when there was at least one place to breathe.

It was a hollow relationship, consisting of nothing more than a few months of shared time. A day would come when those past memories would become useless to him as well. Just as the other had, just as they had discarded it so easily.

One has no choice but to forget the things that cannot be helped.

The past is the past.

The lips that had been trembling slightly soon closed firmly.

After a while, Aaron left the terrace with a clean face, devoid of emotion. Any wavering heart had long since vanished.

It did not take long for Aaron Wizfeldon to enter the Senate with the Earldom of Vispilt, which he held in his own right.

There were public criticisms that the period of self-reflection for an opium addict who frequented debauched gatherings was far too short, and that it was the influence of his father, the Speaker of the Senate. However, the interior of Westminster was, as always, closed-off, the information disclosed to the public was limited, and the internal arrows aimed at the hereditary nobility were blunt and insensitive.

As the timing for the commencement of the reconstruction of the fire-gutted Palace of Westminster and the issues regarding Sir Charles Barry’s blueprints approached, the controversy over Earl Vispilt’s seat in the Senate soon subsided, and the appointment was passed.

✧ ✧ ✧

“That old man probably thinks I have a grip on the Senate.”

With a twisted smile, Herald Lenzdoor lightly spun a globe. MacQueen, who had been thinking deeply about something, frowned at those words.

“Is there anything that can be done anyway?”

“No. That man, Edmund, is no ordinary noble.”

A firm fingertip slid. A subtle hint of a smile passed through his narrowed eyes.

“He is a man who knows how to incite the crowds under the pretext of the state and patriotism. He himself fell for a powerful view of the state and devoted his life to the country. You must never underestimate the influence Cornwall’s existence will have on the voting citizen class.”

Regardless of the old Duke’s anger, MacQueen lowered his sleeves, which he had rolled up to his wrists, and fastened his cufflinks.

“The matter of the Cornwall father and son is important, but processing the maritime trade bill is also urgent. It is difficult to sustain the opium trade without war. Currently, the sanctions have reached their limit.”

The easing of maritime trade sanctions and the system of deploying troops in times of crisis were bills that MacQueen Lester continued to propose even after entering the House of Commons. The Duke of Devonshire also sighed and rested his chin on his hand.

“I am aware of that. It’s just that the atmosphere hasn’t been set yet. Since the letter sent by the Imperial Commissioner was published in the Times last time, negative perceptions of opium are spreading rapidly within the country. Parliament has no choice but to gauge public opinion, and you know that building a consensus is important for that.”

“I know that well, but it’s already been several years. Dissatisfaction is growing year by year. Do you know how much opium the state has dumped on the merchants? The stock in the Indian opium warehouses cannot even be moved. At this rate, a riot will break out.”

“The frequency of petitions has certainly increased.”

“I hear the newly appointed Imperial Commissioner is a bureaucrat experienced in monitoring opium smuggling. Unlike previous officials of the Daecheong, he is said to be incorruptible and takes the opium problem seriously. Soothing the local merchants is not an easy task. We must create an atmosphere where war is the only option.”

“It is still insufficient. While there are economic losses, that reason alone lacks the persuasiveness to mobilize the army.”

“We cannot persuade everyone.”

“But we need a justification to persuade the most important people.”

Justification.

A justification was needed.

A justification to minimize international condemnation and gain the understanding of their own citizens regarding the war.

The gaze staring at the documents scattered across the writing table deepened.

“If there is no decisive factor to shake public opinion, even if it passes the reading in the House of Commons, it will not pass the reading in the Senate. Her Majesty the Queen has also not been on the throne for long, so she is strongly burdened by the prospect of war.”

“…….”

“Above all, has Cornwall not returned?”

The Duke of Cornwall was the one who had most vehemently opposed the opium trade and war targeting the colonies. Furthermore, in this general election, the difference in seats between the Conservatives and the Whigs had decreased significantly compared to the last election, making it difficult to see public opinion as simply leaning toward the reformers. Pushing through a bill that was not perfectly agreed upon by public opinion might not be a good move.

“To dilute the immoral image of opium, we need to focus more on the reality of England’s maritime trade deficit due to the imbalance of the trade balance and the issue of taxation. Additionally, we must more actively inform people about the situation of our citizens who are currently being persecuted in the Qing.”

“You are right.”

With a face that had not lost its chill, the old Duke continued.

“Keep an eye on the Duke of Cornwall’s movements. There is a high possibility that the extreme Tories of the past will gather again around Cornwall. To them, Edmund will be the most reliable shield. He is a clever man. Is he not already positioning his son as a victim of opium to shape public opinion? I tell you again, Baronet, the Duke of Cornwall is by no means a foolish man. I acknowledge your abilities, but do not think of him too lightly and do not overconfide in your own abilities.”

While displaying an air of leisure, there was a blade embedded within. The old Duke was speaking of the vigor and failures that a young member who had just started in politics might exhibit.

“I agree. I should be careful as well.”

MacQueen aimlessly flipped through the documents. It was a bill he had proposed that had been drifting in Parliament for several months.

Cornwall. Edmund Wizfeldon.

The leader of the conservative class who had guarded the Senate for decades and risen to the position of Prime Minister.

As the Duke of Devonshire said, he was not a man to be taken lightly. If he thought about the future, it would be good to hold onto a useful weakness. The only flaw of the Duke of Cornwall revealed so far was the eldest son, Earl Vispilt, Aaron Wizfeldon.

Eyes targeting the goal shone cruelly.

“I thought it ended with the last scandal, but to think he would recover and return. That son is no ordinary fellow either.”

“I suppose that wasn’t enough.”

“He is not one to be fooled by the same thing twice. I know what you are thinking, but he is a man with extraordinary intuition, so you must be careful.”

Having read the inner thoughts of the spirited young member, the old Duke laughed heartily and lit a cigar. His cold eyes were fixed on the tip of the lit cigar.

“Thank you for the advice.”

The fingertips tapping her cheek gradually grew dull. For a while, ambiguous emotions lingered in her deeply sunken eyes.

The woman was too frail to endure the aftermath of the ball. The joy of making a glamorous debut in London society was short-lived; due to the responsibility and pressure accumulated during the preparation process, Elisha lay back in bed as soon as the banquet ended. When the high fever and dry cough did not improve even after several days, the Duke of Devonshire ordered her to return to Wales.

“Lady Elisha.”

The scene that greeted MacQueen as he opened the door was Elisha lying face down on the bed, writing something on a piece of paper.

“What are you writing?”

“Oh, you’re here? Um, I was just writing something.”

“Writing? What kind of writing. Is it perhaps a romance of sweet lovers?”

“I’ll tell you next time.”

With a shy smile, she pushed the manuscript deep under the pillow. Seeing this, MacQueen replied nonchalantly that she could do so.

“You don’t look well.”

MacQueen pulled a folding chair to the bedside and sat down.

“Hmm?”

“Your expression is always stiff whenever you come back from talking with Father.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard that.”

Elisha reached out her thin hand and cupped her fiancé’s sharp cheek. MacQueen covered the back of the woman’s bony hand with his palm and gently stroked it.

“Mrs. Marnet was worried that your appetite has decreased.”

“I told her not to tell you.”

“Even if you told her not to, how could she not? How do you expect to recover if you can’t even eat that much?”

“I know. I started something unnecessary, couldn’t even handle it, and collapsed. I’ve been a nuisance in many ways. To Father, and to you.”

Even though she spoke mischievously as if joking, an uncontrollable sense of self-loathing seeped through. After a moment of silence, Elisha carefully posed a question.

“Did you speak well with him?”

“Him?”

“I mean Earl Vispilt.”

“Ah.”

At the immediate response, MacQueen frowned. There was not a single pleasant memory or emotion associated with Earl Vispilt, Aaron Wizfeldon. To the point where it could be called a bad fate, every moment from the first impression to the time they met again was displeasing.

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“Do you not get along?”

“He is a fellow who isn’t even in a position to be ‘along’ or not in the first place.”

A sharp tone escaped him unconsciously. Elisha laughed softly at the sight of her fiancé’s expression turning fierce in an instant.

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you dislike someone. You always treat people with a smile.”

“Let’s just say he is an exception because he was rude to you.”

MacQueen replied grumpily, not hiding his displeasure.

“Still, you showed your anger too much back then. Honestly, he didn’t particularly commit any discourtesy.”

“It doesn’t matter. We won’t have many chances to cross paths anyway.”

Unlike his usual appearance, disguised with mask-like politeness, Elisha found her fiancé’s attitude—showing his discomfort with his whole body—to be unfamiliar.

“Actually, I don’t dislike him.”

One of his dark brown eyebrows rose, as if asking what she was talking about.

“He was cool.”

“……It seems the Lady has forgotten that I am her fiancé.”

“That’s not it, though.”

At the lovely aegyo, MacQueen finally relaxed his expression with a light laugh. Elisha fidgeted with her hands, recalling the man in her memory.

“He was like a prince from a fairy tale book I read as a child.”

The bright honey-colored hair and the cold face did not fade as time passed; instead, they became clearer. If her fiancé had a masculine, handsome face, the man she saw on the terrace was better described as noble. Although he seemed somewhat fierce and neurotic, it was the first time she had seen such a wonderful person, and her heart had fluttered clumsily.

“A prince.”

A hollow laugh burst out.

“If such a man were a prince, the English royal family would collapse within ten years. He is a man whose inside is rotten.”

“He didn’t seem like a bad person. Though he was a bit scary, of course.”

“You’re saying that because you don’t know him well.”

“Still, it didn’t feel like that.”

At his fiancée’s stubbornness, MacQueen sneered and ran a hand through his hair. The sharp bridge of his nose and fierce eyes contributed to a heartless impression.

“He is a man of poor quality. You might be deceived by his good looks, but in reality, he is just an opium addict. For whatever reason, there is nothing good about being close to him. The reason I didn’t tell you in detail is that it’s certainly not a pleasant story to hear. The conclusion is that there is no need to maintain contact with the young Earl of Cornwall.”

MacQueen responded sincerely, his tone slightly softened.

“Hehe, you really must hate him.”

“Because he is a man with no reason to be liked.”

“Father and the Duke of Cornwall never got along throughout their lives. They lived a life of constant competition.”

Her slender fingers tapped the back of MacQueen’s hand, which was resting on the sheet.

“Hating someone is a difficult thing.”

MacQueen leaned his arm back on the headboard and listened to the frail voice.

“So don’t spend too much energy on unpleasant things. You look most wonderful when you smile.”

“Elisha.”

“Since some time ago, you’ve been frowning more often. If I were a bit healthier, I would help you with that, but I’m sorry I can’t be of help with this body. I can’t leave you alone forever either……”

Next week, she had to return to the Country House in Wales for recuperation. Toward Elisha, whose complexion clouded with a bitter expression, MacQueen continued quite firmly.

“Don’t worry about such things. Marriage is not that important to me. In fact, although it’s a matter of personal preference, I don’t particularly want children either. So you don’t need to feel any sense of debt toward me. If we marry, I will do my best for your treatment. If there is any activity you want to do, please tell me comfortably at any time. I will help you by whatever means necessary.”

It was a consolation full of consideration, but that was the extent of its weight. Pushing her heavy heart aside, she smiled sorrowfully. Hehe. A low laugh echoed lonely in the luxurious bedroom.

“You are a person who is truly clumsy at comforting others.”

“Elisha, I really……”

The lips that tried to add an excuse were blocked by a slender finger. As time passed and they got to know each other, and as she learned the form of the emotions she and the other possessed, she often fell into an ambiguous mood.

“Before I go back to Wales, I want to sightsee in downtown London. I heard the zoo in Regent’s Park is wonderful.”

At the cautious request, MacQueen gently pulled her finger down.

“Will it be alright? The air isn’t good, so your cough might get worse.”

“Wouldn’t it be better than getting a sickness of the heart from frustration? I’ll get permission from Father.”

At the mischievous whisper, MacQueen smiled, saying he had no choice.

“If that is your wish, I will prepare it. Instead, let’s set the date for when it’s warmest and the air is best.”

His attitude was firm, refusing to back down further, but his tone was kind. Elisha gazed blankly at her fiancé, who was wearing a fairly stubborn expression.

A man who accepted all her requests. The best man, who treated her with a handsome appearance and always kind manners. A man who had been on a path of success in the past and for whom only success remained on the road ahead. The one and only fiancé who looked at her with an appropriate amount of tenderness.

From a very young age, Elisha Lenzdoor had been taught that marriage to an outstanding man was the ultimate goal and indicator of happiness for a woman living in this era. If so, she certainly ought to be happy. Elisha’s wavering gaze turned toward the pile of papers buried under the pillow.

✧ ✧ ✧

Knock, knock.

At the sound of the knocking on the door, the man’s eyelids slowly opened.

“…….”

The complexion of the man slowly raising his body was pale.

“Come in.”

Seeing his brother enter carrying a large amount of files in both hands, Aaron frowned mercilessly.

“Is it about the Rodinton matter?”

At the tone laced with anger, Calvin silently affirmed.

“I was told to get final confirmation from your brother.”

Aaron let out a deep sigh and tilted his chin.

“If we keep this up for a few more years, the whole country will go bankrupt.”

His gaze was freezing as he looked at the steadily accumulating documents. Even without looking closely, he could roughly guess the level of loss indicated by the numbers written on those papers.

“You aren’t doing this for profit, are you?”

At the calm response, Aaron scoffed and flipped through the documents carelessly.

“Right. Since you didn’t seek profit, you must have swallowed that diseased horse that’s so unfit for business that it can’t even pay salaries, all because the books didn’t balance.”

“Brother.”

“Quite a lavish inheritance to give you in advance. It’s a company like poison—one that won’t rot even if you eat it and die.”

“…….”

“You’ll be the first second son of a ducal house in the British Empire to go bankrupt and become a pauper.”

Despite the continuous mockery, Caliven did not stop working. He merely wore a troubled smile. The wordplay soon withered away in the face of such a stone-like man, and Aaron observed his brother while resting his chin on his hand.

It had already been several years since Caliven had been forcibly discharged from the military to handle affairs related to Rodinton. Despite having steadily climbed the ranks and solidified his position within the army, Caliven Wisfield had followed his father’s order to help with the family business without a second thought.

“Isn’t it a waste?”

The machine-like movements of the man in the office stopped for a moment.

“I mean your career as a soldier that you built up.”

Caliven rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward expression.

“For the sake of the family, it is not a waste at all.”

At the rigid answer, Aaron opened the box containing his cigars with a look of lost interest. Silence flowed. Due to the Duke of Cornwall’s extraordinary favoritism toward the eldest son, a firm hierarchy existed between the two despite being brothers. This was largely because they had been educated and raised in complete separation for a long time.

Caliven, who carefully moved the documents onto the desk, hesitated several times before cautiously speaking.

“In any way, I enjoy the time I spend helping Father and you, Brother.”

Looking at his dull brother, Aaron burst into a blatant laugh.

“How ridiculous. Rodinton is bound to collapse. Why do you think that man entrusted the management of Rodinton to you and not me?”

“Brother, Father…”

“Don’t bother sugarcoating it.”

Although a separate manager had been appointed, Caliven Wisfield was in charge of the overall operations. Since the end was inevitable anyway, it simply meant letting the second son clean up the leaking excrement.

“Something like this is utterly meaningless.”

Laughing bleakly, Aaron picked out his favorite Leaf-Cut Tobacco. The bold confidence that he could control everything in his palm had long since compromised with reality.

“……I want to find meaning within it.”

“That is a foolish endeavor.”

“…….”

“Let’s look at the documents first. There’s a lot, so it’ll take a while.”

Taking a deep drag of the lit cigar, Aaron began rummaging through the papers again. Once the conversation ceased, only the endless sound of pages turning remained. Clumsy freedom and indulgence were over; now, only responsibility and duty remained.

In the room filled with antique furniture and densely packed books, not a single painting or sculpture could be seen.

It was a space perfectly controlled and aligned.

“The Empire had to create numerous taxes due to the previous war. The amount of taxes collected from the colonies and imposed on our own citizens cannot be said to be small. I believe it is not right to accompany the military for another invasion under the pretext of abnormal trade. To do so for the mere sake of forcing the sale of opium! In the future, England’s reputation will be dragged through the mud.”

The speaking member’s expression was filled with confident power. Many of those seated in the chamber agreed with his outspoken remarks. While applause and cheers poured from the special gallery, the young member continued his speech, adding more weight to his opinion.

“The incident where a letter of protest arrived from Daecheong last time was ultimately due to a mistake made by Sir Hubble. If we simply maintain the treaty ships requested by the Imperial Court, there will be no need to exercise force by mobilizing our navy. No country would sit idly by and watch its citizens become addicted to opium. They simply took the response that a state naturally should.”

Gordon Baillyn.

Recalling the name of the man speaking in Parliament, MacQuan indifferently brushed his cheek. His eyes, extremely subdued in emotion, were full of irritation. Though young, he was one of those who had stood at the forefront, aiding the Duke of Cornwall during the reorganization of the Conservative Party into a far-right Royalist faction.

Above all, there was someone else lending weight to his remarks.

“…….”

MacQuan’s gaze shifted toward Gordon’s surroundings. There sat a man with a pale complexion, resembling the white porcelain imported from Daecheong years ago. He was the deputy head of the Conservative Party who most vehemently opposed the current issues of the Lower House’s reading, and a member of the House of Lords in his own right. The mere fact that such a person was attending as a gallery observer caused the atmosphere to shift subtly in a favorable direction for one side.

The man’s attire was lavish yet dignified and neat. He was constantly writing something with a relaxed expression, which differed from the usual practice of focusing only on the speech and requesting the parliamentary records afterward.

His expression was very monotonous. For the most part, he was expressionless, though he occasionally frowned or lightly bit his lip. Despite the considerable distance, those gestures were distracting enough to catch the eye. MacQuan irritably lifted his meeting materials to block his own line of sight.

“We are only now beginning to emerge from the shadow of war. At a time when it is overwhelming just to create legislation that can serve as a stepping stone for economic development, if we wish to engage in a war that requires enormous national funds and lacks even a justification, who would understand and who would be proud of this country?”

The powerful speech advocated by Gordon Baillyn garnered a sympathetic atmosphere in the assembly hall. The air suggested the likely outcome of the upcoming vote.

It will be difficult again this time.

The hand holding the pen tightened. An unbearable headache surged.

Once the reading ended, the crowd poured out of the Chapter House all at once. Even amidst the throng of people leaving the hall, MacQuan’s expression was particularly grim. Another member passing by patted his shoulder in consolation.

“Baronet, cheer up. Many members empathize with your views. They simply want to consider a more peaceful solution.”

“Of course. This isn’t the only opportunity, so if there is a better way, we must discuss it together.”

“Indeed. You have a great deal of passion.”

A hearty laugh echoed through the corridor. Even while forcing a smile, the anger that had seeped into a corner of his heart did not easily vanish.

He could not spend his time gathered in the Chamber playing children’s word games forever. While the legislation remained stagnant, many trading companies within England were incurring massive losses across the ocean on the continent. Furthermore, as the response from Daecheong toward the citizens acting as suppliers grew harsher, that danger had already reached the doorstep of English merchants.

‘I must secure the votes somehow.’

Even while exchanging insincere greetings with colleagues, his worries continued. This year, related bills had been repeatedly blocked at the final reading or the first reading of the House of Lords. Even with the Whig Party holding a majority of seats, the fact that they were narrowly short by a few seats meant that they had failed to persuade even some of their own party members. Justification. While chewing over the word that had not left his mind for months, MacQuan had already reached the Central Lobby.

“……though I believe it is possible later.”

“If India…… then……”

Amidst the mixture of various voices, one particular voice wound around him with striking clarity. It wasn’t unusual or high-pitched, yet it was strangely distinct. A tone that felt somewhat desolate, with clear staccato and elegant pronunciation. In that moment, his frantic thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Confused by his own state, MacQuan stopped walking and turned toward the source of the sound.

“Cornwall……”

A dry voice escaped his lips. In his field of vision, two people were leaning against the railing of a long outdoor corridor. It likely would have been noisy since it was under extensive renovation, but neither of them seemed to mind the workers, as they were absorbed in conversation.

One was Gordon Baillyn, who had given the opposing speech at the reading, and the other was a man who provoked unpleasantness with a single glance. Both men had serious expressions; MacQuan guessed they were discussing the earlier remarks and the voting results.

MacQuan watched them in silence. More accurately, he watched one person.

The man maintained a cold expression, but occasionally, the corners of his mouth would lift ever so slightly. It was not a face of genuine laughter. Because he himself wore such a mask, he knew that smile was a deception.

Are they close? No, he was a man who gave no one access to his side. Perhaps he was simply celebrating having won the vote by a narrow margin.

Unfamiliar with the ferocious heart blooming black within him, MacQuan kept his mouth shut. He had already expected to some extent that passing the bill would be difficult. As long as the other party didn’t provoke him first, he could have just ignored them and passed by, but for some reason, MacQuan could not move a single step.

“……Regarding that part, first, Sir Bart……”

Perhaps sensing the blatant gaze, the man talking to the other paused and looked up. Their inscrutable eyes met obliquely. As if asking why he was staring, one of Aaron’s eyes narrowed. It was difficult to tear his gaze away from those eyes, which resembled high-purity aquamarine.

‘……Disgusting bastard.’

Feeling as if his throat were burning, MacQuan swallowed dryly. Whenever he saw that man, an unusual mixture of thirst and unpleasantness surged within him.

The encounter did not last long.

Before long, Aaron Wizfeldon turned his head back and focused on his conversation with Gordon. There was no sign that he cared about the encounter from a moment ago.

He was a nuisance in many ways.

Perhaps the incident from a few years ago still remained as a grudge. Even if he wished to bury it for mutual interests, the resentment toward the Cornwall father and son who had tried to kill him at the time still lingered. It was certainly because of that incident that the low-life human appeared in the nightmares he frequently had.

Yes. That’s why.

Having concluded the reason for his raging emotions, MacQuan lifted his head again with a much more relaxed expression.

Now, he was in a position where no one could harm him recklessly. Even if an accident like before occurred, it could no longer be dismissed simply as the disappearance of a provincial gentry. As history had shown, absolute power does not exist. Neither the old Duke nor he himself were exceptions. While he held power, it was necessary to deal with political enemies as decisively as possible.

“…….”

MacQuan turned his eyes back toward the two. They were still conversing in a serious atmosphere, but the pale blonde hair falling over his forehead completely hid his eyes, making it difficult to read his expression any longer. For a fleeting moment, a sense of regret brushed past.

Contrary to the thought that he should leave immediately, MacQuan only left the Chapter House after a considerable amount of time had passed.

It was incomprehensible.

“Lord Wizfeldon?”

At the sound of someone calling him, Aaron glanced up. Simultaneously, the memory carried by the wind scattered without a trace. He rubbed the corners of his eyes somewhat roughly to chase the afterimage.

“Are you very tired?”

Despite the concerned question, Aaron replied indifferently.

“No. Please continue.”

“Yes. You looked a bit tired…… Anyway, even if we let this one slide, there are an unusual number of people behind the scenes who sympathize with the Whig Party’s claims.”

“The current focal point of the Lower House seems to be Baron Enfield, is that correct?”

“Well, he is also the person who conducted the largest opium trade in Garraway before entering the Lower House. He knows the desires of that group most accurately and receives their support. Each bill he proposes is highly practical, so the response is very strong. For now, it’s being delayed day by day due to a lack of justification, but I believe that limit will soon be reached. Persecution of our merchants operating in Daecheong is intensifying, so the movements of the Foreign Secretary are also unusual.”

A peddler.

One corner of his lip curled. Aaron found the ambitious goals and greed of the dog, carefully raised and hidden in the forest, to be laughable. He scanned the materials the other man handed him one by one. They were documents summarizing various petitions that had come through multiple channels.

“There are also a considerable number of people trying to hitch their wagon to the rising power. While the Duke of Cornwall strongly opposes it, the scale of smuggling currently taking place on Lintin Island is large, and the issue of securing power through it cannot be ignored. The trade deficit is a chronic problem, and it’s a point that East India Company officials and ideological groups, who continuously lobby Parliament, have been asserting for years.”

“Hmm……”

It wasn’t just his concentration that was rapidly collapsing. Even amidst the headache consuming his entire body, Aaron recalled those eyes he had met for a split second—eyes filled with hatred. He was a man wearing the skin of a dog, but he was a stranger. He had no memory of raising a dog that looked at him with such contempt.

“The momentum of a merchant selling opium is quite impressive.”

“Baron Enfield is only in his second term, but he is resourceful and has a wide network. The voting gap is gradually narrowing. You will need to be cautious.”

“I understand that some of the companies he owns have withdrawn.”

“Yes. He is continuing to prepare additional legislation regarding that. It seems friction on the continent is severe. Conflicts between current Daecheong officials and our stationed troops are frequently reported. He clearly intends to use that issue as leverage.”

Aaron pondered how to deal with the current Prime Minister, the Duke of Devonshire, and his arrogant prospective son-in-law. Public opinion, riding on the back of patriotism, possesses a blind power. At any moment, they can overturn the board while wearing the mask of nationalism. Especially with the Queen’s favoritism in play, there were more than a few disadvantages. He needed a weakness to propose a deal.

“Though he has risen in status, he is someone who came from the bottom. We know he wouldn’t work simply for national interest and honor. Support for merchants means capital. We must find out where that capital is flowing.”

“Capital?”

The card that would be used most effectively and act most lethally.

“Who else but the Duke of Devonshire could be considered Baron Enfield’s most reliable shield?”

One corner of his straight-set mouth tilted upward. As he mentioned a person too difficult to utter aloud, the young member of the Lower House’s face stiffened with tension.

“Would it be necessary to go that far?”

“It will be easier to wipe away dirty water that pretends to be clean than dirty water that knows it is dirty. But that is for later. For mutual safety, it would be best not to touch the Devonshire Lenzdoor family.”

Though Klaus Diugen and MacQueen Lester were put forward, the actual biggest beneficiary of that black money was the Duke of Devonshire at the head. Of course, even he was merely a middleman; a larger leader existed separately.

An existence that no one dared to name.

A person who was the state itself.

“Wouldn’t that be too dangerous?”

Contrary to the words, a strange resonance of fear and anticipation coexisted in Gordon Baillyn’s voice. It was a reaction possible because he believed the place where he stood was justice.

“Do we not obtain valuable results only when we venture despite knowing the danger?”

“I agree with the Earl to a certain extent.”

Looking at the Thames flowing leisurely toward the North Sea, Aaron briefly recalled a faded memory. Throughout his hospitalization, he had no leisure to recall the past due to the withdrawal symptoms that struck every moment and the high-intensity treatment. The time for contemplation that arose as his condition improved often acted as a poison to him.

“The most sacred art is sometimes born by stepping upon profanity.”

“…….”

The sound of a dry swallow was heard. Aaron smiled faintly at the tension of the young, spirited politician. In the first place, he had no jewels worth protecting. Values he hadn’t even realized he possessed had long since been shattered. Because he had nothing left to lose, fear did not exist.

Aaron stopped his thoughts and suggested the next schedule to Gordon Baillyn.

“How about a simple cup of tea? My throat is parched.”

“Oh, I’ve been keeping you too long, Earl. Let us go.”

“Master.”

His steps as he walked away from the Parliament were straight and steady. The man heading forward wore a mask of perfect indifference.

The dog in that blue forest who waited only for him and knew only him.

The dog who cried, begging him never to use opium again, and promised to kill the one strangling his neck—that dog had met a complete death that night.

It was truly a trivial, cheap death.

Stopping his train of thought for a moment, Aaron fell silent once again.

Enough time had already been wasted.

As the seasons changed several times over, Aaron’s appearance grew more mature and refined. He had completely shed the boyishness that once coexisted with a sense of fragility, adding the sophistication and dignity of a young man. Walking through the lobby with unwavering poise, anyone could see that he was the heir to the Duke of Cornwall’s house, which commanded England, and a rising politician.

✧ ✧ ✧

Once Elisha Lenzdoor recovered enough strength to travel by train, the Duke of Devonshire quickly ordered her to go to Wales. His determination to protect his daughter was so resolute that permission to venture out into London was merely a compromise reached after a tense clash of opinions between father and daughter.

“The weather is truly warm.”

As they passed St. James’s Street and turned the final corner, a wide thoroughfare opened up. It was a sunny day. As she looked at the bustling street scenery through the window, Elisha’s exclamations grew more frequent and louder over time.

Whoa— whoa—

At the driver’s melodic shouts, the clattering sound of horse hooves slowed gradually before coming to a complete halt. Only after the slightest jolting had ceased did the carriage door finally open.

“We must return before the sun sets.”

MacQueen stepped out first and reached his hand toward his fiancée inside the carriage. A hand clad in an ornate lace glove gripped his firmly.

“I won’t do anything to worry you.”

The tips of her toes, descending carefully, were shy. MacQueen sternly urged his fiancée, who was looking around with curious eyes.

“We won’t stay here long. We must look around Sloane Square before evening, and the opera performance will start soon.”

“Oh, I know, I know.”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Elisha was already walking along the main road. Realizing that persuasion was currently impossible, MacQueen let out a small chuckle and followed behind her.

After walking for a while, they arrived at Grosvenor Square. The street was lined with various shops adorned with small signs. Inside the shops, it was crowded with people buying and selling goods. Elisha roamed the streets with such vitality that it was hard to believe she had been unable to steady herself properly until that morning.

“We can’t stay long, Elisha.”

“I know. I said I know.”

Even after a light meal, her sightseeing did not cease. Following her from a moderate distance, MacQueen checked the time from time to time. Another medical examination was scheduled before her return to Wales. While he was calculating their remaining free time, the woman finally ran somewhere past a general store and a tailor’s shop.

“MacQueen, come look at this.”

As if she had seen something fascinating, the woman pointed somewhere. As he approached, he noticed a pile of paintings stacked in a corner of the shop. Judging by the poor storage conditions, they were clearly the works of a novice painter.

“They’re oil paintings. They’re all so wonderful; why are they just piled up like this?”

“Most of them are likely painted by unknown artists. Ones with no investment value.”

Unlike Elisha, who was full of interest, MacQueen’s expression was utterly devoid of emotion and cold. He had no eye for art, nor any interest in it. It was simply because he felt no immediate investment value or necessity. At his cold assessment, Elisha gave him a playful glare.

“Do you know how many artists or works are never properly appreciated in their lifetime?”

“That may be true, but the probability of that is slim.”

“Who knows? Perhaps there is such a painting among these.”

“It would be nice if we found one, but…”

Responding blandly to her cheerful words, MacQueen knelt on one knee and looked through the paintings with her. His expression was indifferent, and his touch was careless.

“They don’t seem to be worth much.”

“Goodness.”

His gaze, which had been scanning them from a strictly businessman’s perspective, suddenly stopped.

“…….”

MacQueen’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the painting. It was a canvas significantly smaller than the others. It looked small and shabby at a glance, yet for some reason, his hand moved toward the canvas of its own accord. It was a painting of the back of a male model with his head slightly turned.

“I think it was left unfinished.”

The woman, unable to read the silence between the lines, continued.

“I see.”

At a glance, it was unfinished—merely a study with coloring barely started over a rough sketch. In terms of value, it was a clumsy and crude painting that he would never have given a second glance to. However, feeling as though his breath was being choked, MacQueen slowly rubbed his throat. A scratchy sensation slid down his gullet.

“The area around the face isn’t fully painted, but… wow. Look at this, MacQueen. The hair color is truly beautiful.”

Elisha smiled with a look of wonder and pointed to the red hair expressed with a rough texture. MacQueen agreed silently and swallowed hard. Unlike other parts that were clearly unfinished, the blazing red hair alone had been painted with considerable care.

It was strangely difficult to tear his eyes away. With an awkward expression, MacQueen slowly rubbed the red-painted section. The sensation of the hardened oil paint was etched into his skin.

“It’s like the sun.”

“…….”

“It’s so beautiful.”

The sound of him swallowing his breath in the gap of silence sounded exceptionally loud.

The sun.

The fingertips slowly tracing the painting eventually stopped completely and ceased to move.

“It was the sun… but…”

Noise echoed here and there in his mind. It was like a broken machine. His cool eyes furrowed in irritation. Uncontrollable memories lost their direction and leaped wildly. The lush, curling red hair in the painting became a rope, strangling his breath.

“MacQueen?”

After a series of unanswered responses, Elisha finally called her fiancé in a puzzled voice. The man was focusing on the painting with a terrifying intensity, unbelievable for someone who had been so indifferent until a moment ago. Feeling a strange sense of unfamiliarity, Elisha called him again.

“MacQueen, are you feeling unwell?”

“……My apologies. I was just thinking of something else.”

Trailing off faintly, MacQueen stood up holding the painting.

“Are you planning to buy it?”

At Elisha’s question, his heart was momentarily clouded with hesitation.

“Not necessarily, but…”

It was a painting with no value. A practice piece with no commercial or artistic merit. Nevertheless, for some reason, MacQueen could not easily let go of the canvas.

As he continued to ponder, a curly-haired stranger appeared as a door in the corner of the shop opened. The man, carrying materials in both hands, belatedly noticed the customers in his shop and hurried over.

“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realize guests had arrived. Is there something you need?”

Mark Twegger, quickly assessing the appearance of the man and woman who had visited his shop, wore a smile. From their dressed-up attire to the aura they exuded, they were clearly nobles with plenty of money. Despite his resolve to drive the price up regardless of what they chose, Mark gasped and waved his hand when he saw the painting the prospective customer was holding.

“Ah, oh dear, Sir, I am sorry. That painting is not for sale.”

“……Not for sale?”

His slightly furrowed eyes revealed displeasure. Sensing the prickly atmosphere, Mark continued politely, trying his best not to offend the other party.

“Yes. It’s just for storage. That work is a painting a friend of mine left here for a while, so it’s difficult to sell. As you can see, it’s just a practice study, so it has no artistic value. I didn’t think the two of you would be interested since I didn’t even arrange it properly. Haha. If I had known, I would have put out more wonderful paintings. All other works except that one are available for purchase.”

Despite the detailed explanation, the man still did not let go of the painting.

“Um, Sir… if you could return the painting…”

“…….”

Even at the repeated request to return it, the man stubbornly kept his lips pressed tight and gave no reaction. His eyes, filled with stubbornness, were so wide that anyone watching would believe he had some deep grievance with the painting. What happened next left Mark aghast.

“I will pay a thousand pounds.”

“A-a thousand pounds?”

“Is that not enough?”

“Ah, no, n-no, that couldn’t possibly be insufficient. What I mean is…”

Mark’s mouth hung open at the unimaginable amount. A thousand pounds. Considering that the annual income of the gentry class was typically between one thousand and ten thousand pounds, it was an absurdly enormous sum. To pay that price for an unfinished painting by an unknown person, not even a famous artist, made his hands tremble. Greed surged up to his throat. He was just about to tell him to take it immediately.

“I’m asking you to keep it for a while.”

It was a particularly chilly day. The sight of him, stained by the violence of a long-time regular, was so wretched that his original appearance was unrecognizable, yet Mark couldn’t bring himself to ask what had happened. Meanwhile, another carriage loaded with goods stopped in front of the shop.

“There aren’t many. Most were destroyed.”

“Blake, you really…”

“Because he will surely come to find them one day.”

Without any explanation of the situation, the man abruptly handed money to Mark. Though he called it a storage fee, it was an excessively large amount for a mere sculptor to give. As he said, considering the amount of materials purchased over time, the number of works the worker brought to the shop was far too small. Sensing that something had happened to the other party, Mark asked questions, but he couldn’t get a single satisfying answer.

The painting had been tucked between the works Blake had brought for storage. When asked if this painting was included, the man, whose face was a mess of wounds, distorted his face even further and answered before leaving the shop.

“Do as you wish.”

That was the last time he was seen. Until now, several years later, Mark had not seen a single strand of hair of that arrogant young sculptor in his memories.

“That painting is…”

Unlike the sculptures, the matter of the painting’s disposal had not been properly settled. However, the atmosphere and expression of that time weighed on him, making it impossible to readily give a positive answer. To think that he was the biggest fool in London for kicking away such a great opportunity. Leaving the intense temptation behind, Mark squeezed his eyes shut.

Blake, you’ve really found a very trustworthy business contact.

“I am sorry, but as I already told the gentleman, that painting is not my property, so I cannot dispose of it as I wish.”

At the firm refusal, MacQueen’s expression hardened further. It was an aura resembling the anger of someone whose own possession had been snatched away. Elisha, unable to hide her bewilderment at this unfamiliar side of her fiancé, gently pulled his arm.

“MacQueen, he says it’s not for sale, so stop it.”

“If that is insufficient, I will pay two thousand pounds.”

“Ah, no, I’m telling you that it’s a painting that cannot be sold…”

At the even higher amount, Mark’s hands trembled involuntarily. The suspicious gentleman was still looking at the painting. It was a fierce gaze, incomprehensible in its intensity. While the hesitation continued, the man spoke again.

“Three thousand pounds.”

“S-Sir, why are you doing this?”

“MacQueen…”

Mark’s mouth hung open and he stamped his feet in agitation. God was surely putting his conscience to the test.

“Sir… please return it… that painting was painted by my friend. Please don’t do this…”

Despite Mark’s pleas, the man paid no heed and did not take his eyes off the painting. His masculine, straight fingers carelessly brushed various parts of the small canvas. In that touch, there was no sense of admiration, such as the painting being wonderful or enchanting. The same went for his face, which looked cold just by glancing at it.

“Four thousand pounds.”

“…Gasp.”

Interpreting Mark’s silence as a continued refusal, the man readjusted his grip on the painting and looked straight ahead.

“Five thousand pounds. I will pay immediately.”

Mark closed his eyes. To withstand this final attack, he was merely an ordinary merchant.

Blake.

My friend, Blake.

I will protect your sculptures no matter what. You told me to dispose of the paintings as I wish. But even so, I didn’t refuse until now.

“You must have really liked it.”

The carriage rattled as it ran along the road. When MacQueen flicked his eyebrows at the mysterious remark, Elisha pointed to the painting wrapped in yellow paper.

“I mean the painting. It was surprising to see you be so stubborn when the shop owner said no; it’s not like you. You must have really liked it.”

“Ah.”

“Actually, you bought it far too expensively. But it’s your heart.”

Elisha blushed with a shy expression. MacQueen, watching her with a blank face, slightly lifted the corners of his mouth to create a handsome smile.

“Because you said it was beautiful.”

“What?”

Her long eyelashes trembled in surprise. MacQueen, his expression now completely relaxed, answered again.

“Didn’t you say it was beautiful like the sun? I wanted to give it to the Lady as a gift. It also resembles the color of your hair…”

At the unexpected answer, Elisha covered her mouth with both hands. Oh my goodness. An overwhelmed exclamation burst forth.

“My goodness, you paid five thousand pounds just for those words?”

“Think of it as a gift before going to Wales.”

“You really… sometimes you’re so impulsive.”

Though she scolded him, she didn’t seem to dislike it. Looking at the woman who now held the painting dearly to her chest, MacQueen silently interlaced his fingers. Contrary to his calm exterior, a violent storm was raging within.

He must be crazy. For such a deficient painting…

He tightened his grip on his interlaced fingers. His closed lips and hardened eyes also trembled slightly. It was a transaction with absolutely no gain. The desire to withdraw the deal immediately vanished the moment the shop owner took the painting to wrap it.

He could not tolerate even a moment of absence. MacQueen felt an inexplicably strong resistance the instant the painting left his hands. It was a feeling so powerful that he could almost mistake it for desperation. In that moment, the thought that he must not lose the painting made him unaware of what words were spilling from his mouth.

Despite calling it a gift with his own lips, MacQueen did not like the fact that the painting was not with him. The fact that she was his fiancée did not matter.

That painting is mine. It must be handed over. That painting is my property.

It is mine.

MacQueen wanted to tear the wrapping covering the painting right now. He wanted to snatch that painting from Elisha’s embrace immediately. Various thoughts boiled over like flames. It was a violent impulse, almost to the point of losing his reason.

‘I’ve truly gone mad.’

Sighing repeatedly in his heart, MacQueen buried himself deeper into the back cushion. A wave of fatigue washed over him.

“Are you very tired? You look exhausted.”

“……I am a bit tired. I must have overexerted myself yesterday. Would it be alright if I closed my eyes?”

“Of course. Thank you so much for being with me today.”

It wasn’t that he felt no guilt toward his fiancée, who smiled at him unaware of his dark inner thoughts. MacQueen let out a weary sigh. His hand, searching his coat out of frustration, paused. A thickly wrapped object touched his fingertips. A moment of bewilderment cast a shadow over his expressionless face.

“Since this carving knife is a tool made for professionals, it is very sharp and dangerous. I will wrap it securely for you, but this is the first time I’ve seen gentlemen buy such carving tools…”

The other item he had purchased on impulse along with the painting was a carving tool set, including a couple of carving knives the size of a palm, as well as various chisels and gouges. No matter how many times he thought about it, it was an item that neither he nor anyone around him needed, yet he had not hesitated for a single moment until the purchase.

Shattered sculptures flooded MacQueen’s mind recklessly. Following the direction in which the sculptures were swept away, he always encountered an unfamiliar existence and unfamiliar emotions. Even as time passed, nothing came back clearly. MacQueen had no way of knowing what meaning these drifting emotions, for which he could find no anchor, held for him.

✧ ✧ ✧

The debate between the two parties over the theory of war grew more intense by the day. Even though there were numerous bills to be handled in the reading sessions, every occasion seemed to lead to a fight. It was, in a way, natural that the leader of the Whig Party, Herald Lenzdoor, and MacQueen Lester, along with the leader of the Conservative Party, Edmund Wizfeldon, and his son, were invited to a luncheon arranged by the Queen after much deliberation.

The manicured Royal Gardens of Buckingham were incomparably vast compared to James Palace, and the landscaping was extremely lavish. Fed by the toil of gardeners who had to manage vast acres of land, the brilliantly blooming roses were also lush in color. A battle of nerves, as thick as the fragrance, had been continuing for several hours.

“As you all know, the atmosphere in Westminster has been sharp lately. From the shouting heard in each chamber to the reports coming in, it’s enough to make one’s ears ring.”

It was a direct way of speaking, devoid of any beating around the bush. The Solar Monarch may have been young, but he was not foolish. While the weight of the monarch’s authority had lightened with each passing year, the symbolism held by the royal family remained immense. The somewhat relaxed atmosphere following the light meal turned cold rapidly at the Queen’s brief words. Ahem, cough. The sound of clearing throats echoed continuously from various spots around the table.

Aaron lifted his teacup and savored the subtle scent of the black tea. The tea leaves, which had crossed the distant seas through the seasonal winds, emitted a pleasant aroma that momentarily soothed his unstable mind and spirit.

“You are mistaken on that point, Your Majesty.”

The man who chose to charge straight through the solemn atmosphere was someone Aaron knew well. A heavy yet earnest eloquence that instilled trust in the listener. The hand holding the teacup trembled for a moment. Naturally, Aaron’s gaze shifted toward the man sitting opposite him.

Dark, deep brown hair. There was no trace of the brilliant red color that had been dyed by hand. Aaron scanned the changed appearance of the dog without any emotion. A forgotten boredom rose again, carving its way through the current.

“Running wild again, that arrogant brat. He seems to have forgotten how lowly his roots are, mistakenly believing he has become someone important just by leaning on Devonshire.”

Aaron let out a small smirk at his father’s manner, which sounded like a damp curse. His father’s trembling fists looked ready to strike the man conversing with the Queen at any moment.

“Please calm down.”

“You want me to just stand by and watch that low-born wretch run wild?”

“Is he not a fellow member of Parliament?”

“Nonsense. He is merely a member of the Lower House.”

The emotions leaking through the grinding of teeth were chilling. Knowing that his father’s rage toward the lowly opium merchant involved him, Aaron kept his words brief.

The era was changing rapidly. The shift of power in Parliament from the Upper House to the Lower House was a phenomenon that had begun long ago. Only those who could not read the currents of the time and refused to acknowledge a power that was now a mere shell continued to deny reality. Just as his father did.

Aaron did not hide his boredom and repeatedly pressed his eyelids. He had been in poor condition last night as withdrawal symptoms had resurfaced for the first time in a while. He would need to send word to his physician soon.

“It is definitely that fellow. He is a man who employs vile and despicable tactics.”

The Duke of Cornwall spoke through gritted teeth. Though the words were fragmented, Aaron understood the meaning perfectly. A cold smile appeared again. It had already been several years.

“What can be done about it now?”

“Otherwise, there is no way the articles would have broken simultaneously at that exact time. It was clearly a pincer attack carried out by that man and Devonshire.”

Watching his father clench his fists to the point that the tableware rattled, Aaron slightly curled the corners of his lips. He shifted his gaze to the man in conversation with the Queen.

“To establish tax revenue, the only way is to secure as many silver ingots as possible through maritime trade.”

“Too much silver flowed out last year.”

The Queen agreed with MacQuan’s words, her face full of worry.

“Cotton textile exports are decreasing rapidly. Exports to the Indian territories are a problem, but exports to Daecheong are also insignificantly small by comparison.”

“I agree.”

“In contrast, the amount of tea and porcelain imported from Daecheong is increasing exponentially, making it difficult to narrow the current trade imbalance. The national treasury is shaking. We cannot replace all the missing finances with taxes.”

“I shall be the first to reject any plan to collect additional taxes from my own people. Find a way to secure finances through trade, no matter what.”

With the Queen’s support, MacQuan put more strength into his voice.

“As Your Majesty said, there are already so many tax items that it is difficult to keep track of them. Please remember that the East India Company was on the verge of bankruptcy due to the trade deficit problem before the opium trade. We must now make a decision. Criticism without alternatives will only lead everyone to self-destruction. Only when the home country is stable can you pay more attention to the integrated rule of the Irish territories.”

The Queen, frowning slightly, gently touched her forehead. While conflicts between England and Ireland intensified due to differences in the state church, the reports sent by the Governor grew more serious by the year. It was a headache both inside and outside the country.

“Sir, your words make sense. I also recognize that the trade deficit problem is serious, but I have no clever solution.”

Since taking power, the Queen had been particularly aligned with the Whigs. At her reaction, the atmosphere among the Home and Foreign Secretaries, bishops, and the Tory crowd at the table shifted between light and shadow.

The Duke of Devonshire also added to MacQuan’s words with a deliberately serious expression.

“That is correct, Your Majesty. The problem of compradors is growing more serious by the year. Although the warships led by Sir Harrison retreated this time, we do not know when they might persecute the innocent merchants of the Empire again under the guise of custom. By then, it may not end with a simple threat. A forum is needed to discuss various alternatives for this. I believe an alternative that all parties can agree upon will emerge.”

At that moment, a sharp laugh burst out from somewhere.

“……?”

MacQuan glared toward the source of the laughter that had simply cooled the momentum of the atmosphere. The culprit who ruined the mood was laughing with his eyes covered.

“What is happening?”

“What are you doing in front of Her Majesty the Queen, Earl Vispilt!”

The enraged Duke of Devonshire shouted. At his son’s sudden action, the Duke of Cornwall also grit his teeth with a stiff expression.

“Your Majesty, I sincerely apologize for the rudeness committed by my son.”

Wiping away tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, Aaron continued to giggle. The Queen’s complexion also became stained with blatant displeasure.

“Earl, I am also not in a good mood.”

“Please forgive my irreverence, Your Majesty. Listening to Sir Lester, I found it hard to suppress my laughter as it reminded me of old times. Please understand that I never intended to challenge Your Majesty’s authority. Therefore, I dare to ask for permission to speak.”

“Speak.”

The Queen, struggling to swallow her anger, gave her permission with arrogant eyes.

“As everyone here knows, am I not an addict who has greatly benefited from the wonderful opium currently under discussion?”

At the following words, the Queen’s hand, which had been taking sugar from the canister, stopped.

“What are you trying to say, Lord Wizfeldon?”

“Aaron!”

It was a secret that everyone knew but no one could speak of. At the explicit expression uttered by the party involved, sighs erupted from various places around the table. The Duke of Cornwall’s eyes widened in shock, and the Duke of Devonshire also opened his mouth with a speechless expression. Aaron, leisurely observing the reactions of those seated, clasped his hands with a languid smile.

“I felt deeply sorry for the words of the two gentlemen claiming that opium is the only way to solve the trade problem. To be precise, I mean the efforts of Baronet Enfield to persuade Your Majesty of that issue. The Tory party is not unaware of the trade imbalance problem. Of course, it is clear that the Empire gains significant profit from the triangular opium trade.”

The vest, tightly fastened to the line of his upper body, created soft wrinkles following his movements. Slightly wrinkling his sharp nose, Aaron shrugged his shoulders.

“I am a person who has personally experienced the devastation of how opium destroys a person. It was a wicked comfort that ruins a human’s brilliant intellect and reason in an instant. The hallucinations provided by the red flower prevented a person from existing as a human.”

The gaze that scanned those sitting around the table one by one was empty yet tinged with exhaustion.

“Research on the harmful effects of opium has been active recently, but in the meantime, not only in strange Eastern countries but also the people of the great British Empire have been exposed to this dangerous drug under the pretext of a cure. Your Majesty, the opium I personally experienced was certainly a drug possessed by a demon.”

The words addressed to the Queen turned toward the vulgar opium merchant at the end.

“If the only way to overcome England’s economic recession is a trade that turns a nation’s people into opium addicts, what would neighboring countries think of the power held by the British Empire? In particular, the American savages might point fingers at us, treating us as equals to them. I wish to ask through this opportunity. Sir Lester, is it truly the case that the only way for our great England to earn tax revenue is through opium?”

Just thinking about it is an insult to one’s pride. The tone of the added words still held a hint of laughter. Only then did the Duke of Cornwall look on with satisfaction at the fierce attack.

“I understand your love for humanity. However, Earl, England is not a peace-keeping force. Then, does the Earl have any alternative to solve England’s trade deficit that has continued for years?”

At MacQuan’s immediate counterattack, Aaron lifted his teacup again. A gaze filled with blatant hatred was directed at him. It was a rage so intense that his cheeks felt as if they were stinging. Aaron smiled mischievously and swirled the cup. The transparent brown liquid sloshed precariously.

“A peace-keeping force. That is an interesting expression. Regarding that issue, and also, although the Baronet says he stepped back from practical management after entering Westminster, I believe he is still a major shareholder of Klaus Diugen.”

“What are you trying to say?”

The dog whose path was blocked revealed its sharp teeth. The master’s smile deepened. Through his narrowed eyes, blue jewels shone brightly.

“Is the war you advocate for the sake of England, for the sake of the Royal Family, or for the sake of Klaus Diugen?”

“It is, of course, for the sake of England and the Royal Family. Earl, please stop these remarks intended to insult me.”

“If the stubbornness continues, the intent will be doubted at any time.”

“Lord Wizfeldon!”

The sound of Minton teacups, symbols of the royal family, clashing rang out loudly. In the once again murderous atmosphere, no one sitting at the table dared to intervene in the conversation.

“Enough!”

After a long while, the Queen sighed deeply and shook her head.

The strides crossing the central corridor inside Buckingham, boasting the majesty of the British Empire, were utterly rough. His face was completely expressionless, but inside, countless violent waves surged.

“There is no need to react to every provocation, but there is a need to muzzle him so he does not say useless things. No room for negotiation must be given. Let us discuss the matter of the Claus Share again later.”

After the conversation ended, the Duke of Devonshire returned with a dark expression. He mentioned arranging a separate audience with the Queen, but it was too early to confirm. It was hard to expect a cautious young monarch to take a gamble that might divide public opinion early in his reign. Just as his worries were deepening.

“……I will be available…… for the meeting.”

A low but clear voice stopped MacQuan. Instinct quickly recognized the owner of the voice. It was certainly the person he had been in a war of nerves with until a moment ago.

“…….”

Without even a moment to hesitate whether to ignore him and leave, Aaron, having finished shaking hands with Bishop and Upper House member Beckus, immediately turned. He locked eyes with MacQuan, who was standing opposite him.

Contrary to the guarded heart wondering if he was here to pick another fight, the clean face staring straight ahead showed no trace of mockery. Rather, it would be more accurate to call it thorough indifference. Out of an unknown anxiety, MacQuan clicked his dry tongue and curled his fingertips.

It was the moment the other person passed him by with disciplined footsteps.

“Lord Wizfeldon.”

Impulse swallowed reason. Regret began the moment the words left his mouth. Despite hoping his words would be ignored, Earl Vispilt stopped. It was already an irreversible situation. MacQuan remained silent for a while before reluctantly bringing up his business.

“Could you spare me a moment of your time?”

At the unexpected request, the pale forehead wrinkled.

“With me?”

MacQuan silently pointed toward the central stairs. It was a gesture to move to a secluded place to talk. Following that direction, Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Just for a moment.”

“It is quite an event for a Baronet to have business with me.”

The sarcastic tone was strictly professional. It was an attitude that suggested he truly had no business other than work. MacQuan stared blankly at Cornwall’s degenerate. The eyes seen up close were a bit paler and brighter than a typical blue. A shattered halo of light. It was enough to make one mistake it for a sea that had tempered the sun.

“I have something to say.”

He must be truly crazy. MacQuan clicked his tongue lowly and twisted his cheek. It was an intention to hide his expression.

“……Let us keep it short.”

Contrary to the expectation that he would coldly refuse, acceptance was granted. Despite that being all, a strange sense of satisfaction seeped through the cracks of his heart.

“Thank you.”

Unaware of the faintly curled corners of the lips, MacQuan hurried his steps.

As they descended the central stairs and exited the main gate, carriages to carry visitors were lined up. It was a place where it was difficult to have a proper conversation due to the many people coming and going, but because of that, it was a blind spot away from the strict security inside the palace.

“What is it?”

“Keep it within reasonable limits.”

As soon as they stopped walking, accusations poured out. Unless one was a fool, anyone could recognize the hostility contained within. A cold gaze leisurely traced MacQuan.

“Since we will continue to encounter each other in the future, why don’t you at least maintain some courtesy?”

“Hmm……”

The man tilted his chin with eyes full of interest. It was a gesture to continue.

“I know that the Earl’s health is not good. Even so, that is no reason for me to endure insults.”

His eyes kept drifting to the neatly swept-back hair and the delicate face revealed beneath it. It was not simply because of the handsome appearance, but rather due to a strange and uncomfortable emotion. Pushing aside the unpleasant feeling, MacQuan clenched and unclenched his sweaty palms.

“If something like today happens again, I will not let it pass easily.”

It was a fierce warning, but the expression of the person receiving the warning was utterly relaxed. Aaron was still wearing an inscrutable smile.

“So.”

A quiet accusation echoed softly.

“If something like today happens again, do you intend to use the press then as well?”

Contrary to the expectation that he would answer conventionally, MacQuan’s complexion suddenly clouded at the sharp words.

“What are you talking about?”

A wind blew. It was a calm wind that held the passage of time.

Aaron traced old memories. It was not an easy task as time and memory were messily entangled, but after wandering for a while, he could find one of the desired fragments. Even if it was a piece of trash rolling around somewhere in Ramdiff Forest.

Looking at the man lying naturally, Aaron took off his coat and draped it over one arm.

“I believe the matter spread to the newspapers was sufficient.”

Along with the sound of a sharp intake of breath, a suffocating silence flowed. Blatant bewilderment spread across MacQuan’s face.

“……What do you mean by that?”

Watching this, Aaron swallowed a bitter smile. It was funny to remember a time in the past when he had been captivated by someone’s explicitly expressed affection.

“I put quite a bit of effort into silencing the commotion.”

Feet wearing black shoes crushed the lush green grass. An unrefined fatigue flickered across the gaunt face.

“Ah, it was truly a goddamn struggle.”

The voice reminiscing about the past was terribly low and desolate, and his complexion was extremely exhausted.

“Both you and the Duke of Devonshire underestimate my family too much.”

“Do not distort the facts—”

MacQuan’s words could not continue. Raising one hand in a gesture to shut him up, Aaron rubbed his eyes again.

“I was a bit out of it three years ago.”

I wasn’t in my right mind. With the added words, a light laugh escaped from between the appropriately attractive lips. It resembled the laughter from when he was intoxicated at the Spencer Earl Family villa in the past, but his eyes were like a sharply honed blade.

“I won’t be fooled so easily now. Though you were quite meticulous for a merchant who sells opium.”

The direct accusation was somehow uncomfortable, so MacQuan shifted his gaze obliquely.

“……You continue to say things that are hard to understand. I thought you would stop the insults, but it seems my expectations for the Earl were too high.”

A chest pain, as if pressed by a heavy stone, arose. After confirming there were no people within earshot, MacQuan continued, pretending to be relaxed.

“The Earl still considers me a merchant. I do not believe my position is so low that I should naturally receive such insults. If you are to say such nonsensical things, should you not present evidence first?”

“…….”

“Why don’t you face reality, Earl? Although I am in the Lower House, I am also strictly a member of Parliament in Westminster. Above all.”

At the ensuing attack, Aaron crossed his arms with an intrigued expression. He even tilted his chin, as if daring the other to continue.

“While I express my sincere regrets that the Earl was once a loyal customer of my company, no one forced opium upon him. Was it not entirely Lord Wizfieldon’s choice to take the drug and enjoy it?”

This was the line he always used with those who attacked him. That he had merely provided it, and the choice belonged to the user. The heir of the Cornwall family standing before him was simply one of many who had chosen the path to ruin.

“Opium should have been used only as a painkiller. Klaus Diugen merely trades opium for the purpose of manufacturing painkillers.”

The contempt and condemnation laced in his words were excessively clear. Adjusting his top hat, MacQuan cast a cold glance.

“This is not a matter of shifting blame. Of course, I cannot hide my pity for the painful days you suffered due to the abuse of opium, but that does not mean that I and Klaus Diugen should become the targets of the Earl’s anger.”

“…….”

“The fault lies with the one who used it for the wrong purpose. Regardless of the herb, does it not become either a poison or a medicine depending on how and how much it is used?”

A face devoid of any trace of a smile stared directly at Aaron. It was a frigid countenance where no desire, blindness, nor even a shred of pity could be found.

“What a funny thing to say.”

“I am glad you agree.”

Aaron suddenly recalled Westminster Palace, which had burned down several years ago. And the splendid, grand history that had vanished along with the architecture.

“I know you’ve planted people.”

Though my father doesn’t know yet. The lingering echo of the added words was long. The man, who until then had asserted his opinion with confidence, momentarily stopped speaking.

The facts reported through the separately hired agents were all irritating. The more he learned about the opponent’s true nature, the more he felt a distinct, disgusting sensation, as if sinking into a gutter. The act of digging up each other’s weaknesses and filth was perfect material for a cheap play or opera.

“I know you crawled your way up here by doing all sorts of dirty work, but it is pathetic to use the same move twice.”

“…….”

“That the user is at fault and the distributor bears no responsibility, is it?”

A contemptuous smile played on Aaron’s lips.

“How typical of the vulgar merchant class who knows nothing of the social responsibilities a nobleman ought to possess. Truly, a level of vulgarity beyond compare.”

“Is there any reason I must endure such insults?”

Unlike in the past, the man, who no longer tolerated humiliation, bared his teeth. With a face that suggested he couldn’t care less about the other’s feelings, Aaron calmly took out his pipe.

“Aren’t we both playing dirty?”

As it lit, a plume of grey smoke rose. Only after inhaling deeply did he exhale a breath that seemed far more relaxed.

“My family has handled various affairs without necessarily staining our own hands with blood, more so than you think. So, I trust you will conduct yourself wisely. Do not be so confident that the Duke of Devonshire will always have your back. Even if the class society is crumbling, the things a great noble house does will still exceed your imagination.”

Because he had the sun at his back, deep shadows fell across Aaron’s face. Even the faint expressions that remained vanished, leaving no trace.

“Thank you for the advice, Lord Wizfieldon. Since I have seen very few nobles who actually fulfill the social responsibilities you mentioned, the Earl’s advice doesn’t quite resonate with me.”

MacQuan’s cold eyes narrowed slightly before he immediately added,

“I would like to ask what responsibilities the Earl has fulfilled. Also, it would be wise to be grateful while I am still being polite to you. I feel as though I am using up a lifetime’s worth of patience right now.”

His curved eyes gleamed fiercely. Aaron, with the pipe in his mouth, nodded slowly.

“Ah, yes. You should also know that I, too, am exercising extreme patience with you and Lord Lenzdoor.”

The air, woven with exquisite precision, filled the gap. MacQuan responded with a smile, pretending to be composed.

“What a terrifying warning. Should you wish to request a duel, I am ready to accept at any time. My footmen are always on standby, so please send a letter whenever you wish.”

“Thank you for the interesting proposal. If you have the leisure, why not ask the Duke of Devonshire to restart the opium business in Plymouth? If you lack funds, I shall become a premium customer of your company.”

“May I say that is the most welcome news I’ve heard?”

Silence followed as fierce glares were exchanged. In the sharp and cruel atmosphere, a black veil cast itself over the depths of the heart. This was a person no longer worth talking to.

“Do you have anything left to say? This conversation seems meaningless.”

Aaron asked, checking his pocket watch. At the blatant display of boredom, MacQuan replied with a stiff expression.

“……No, I have said everything I intended to. Thank you for your time, Earl. I shall see you again if the opportunity arises.”

After adding a brief farewell, MacQuan turned around and walked quickly toward where the carriage was waiting. He had no time to consider whether turning one’s back first was a breach of etiquette.

He’s absolutely mad.

With a frozen expression, MacQuan stared only straight ahead. Despite the humiliating insult, it wasn’t hatred for the opponent that lingered in his mind, but rather that sharp facial line, so gaunt it seemed it could slice through a veil. Mad, he was certainly mad. Shaking his head several times, MacQuan quickened his pace. A faint sound of laughter stretched long behind him like a water-shadow, but he did not stop walking.

✧ ✧ ✧

Looking at his daughter, who had finished preparations to go down to Wales, the Duke of Devonshire appeared not as the head of the Whig Party who skillfully led the reformist forces, but simply as an ordinary parent worrying for their child.

“You must listen to your physician to get healthy. You always have a tendency to do things your own way.”

Contrary to his cold tone, the hand holding her pitifully thin hand would not let go. Elisha’s eyes, looking down at him, were full of laughter.

“I’ll listen. The consultations I’ve had this time were very helpful.”

“I will make sure you are sent to Wales every week, so you must never miss a consultation. I shall visit you at least before spring ends.”

“Of course.”

“Report your situation to me regularly via letter. It is fine to attend the literary salon hosted by Viscountess Burhem, but do not overdo your own writing.”

He tried to indirectly express his discomfort with his daughter spending time on useless pursuits.

“We must leave for Charing Cross Station early tomorrow morning, so go to bed early today.”

“I will. MacQuan, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After a few more brief exchanges, Elisha left the room first. The two exchanged a simple nod, promising to meet tomorrow.

Click.

Once he confirmed the door was completely closed, the Duke of Devonshire’s expression changed sharply. The grip on the armrest tightened.

“The matter of the Claus Share will be resolved shortly. Please, have a drink.”

Standing up, MacQuan poured the specially prepared wine into a glass.

“Thank you.”

The Duke of Devonshire’s eyes curved with satisfaction as he savored the heavy, dry aroma.

“He was a merchant who died about two years ago with no family at all, so his administrative affairs were never processed. I intend to push it through that channel.”

“Are there no problems?”

“I have completed the verification process in various ways. I have also prepared a suitable identity.”

The hand rotating the stem of the glass was far more relaxed. The argument that took place in Buckingham a few days ago had been unpleasant, but since he had devised a solution, however imperfect, it was not a loss. MacQuan tilted the glass to lightly moisten his lips and continued.

“I have drawn up a list of committee members who showed a lukewarm attitude in this vote. I intend to begin individual recruitment efforts.”

“That is necessary. I am also in contact with members of the House of Lords. While there is a hesitant atmosphere for now, quite a few members agree on the necessity of dispatching troops. Though it may not reach a majority by estimation, there are many who could be swayed if an issue breaks out.”

“That is welcome news. Ah, one more thing.”

The hand setting the glass down on the table was cheerful.

“About Rodinton.”

At the mention of the company riddled with maladies that the static Cornwall had taken over, the old Duke’s interest shifted instantly.

“The situation seemed worse than expected. The Scottish Textile Factory will likely not survive the year. Domestic volume is at its lowest, and the problem of deteriorating exports was significant. There are even rumors that the Cornwall ducal family is using their private funds to cover the deficit.”

“Private funds? Pathetic. What competence does a man who has spent his life inciting people have to dive into business so fearlessly?”

Speaking in a tone of clear ridicule, the Duke of Devonshire stroked his white beard.

“Though he claims to have delegated general management to his second son, I believe the Duke himself knows that Rodinton is an incurable disease. Considering how he blustered about donating net profits to the Royal Family, this is a miserable result.”

“Given Edmund’s personality, he will find such humiliation hard to bear. How unfortunate.”

The laughter grew deeper. Though they had been rivals for a lifetime, the fact that the Cornwall family had two direct heirs, unlike the Lenzdoor family where the direct line ended with him, had always plunged him into endless inferiority.

“Yes, thanks to that, I’ve caught an unexpectedly good current.”

“Hmm?”

The Duke of Devonshire glanced at him, wondering what he meant. MacQuan sat back in his chair with a relaxed smile. He had obtained meaningful information from the moles he had planted months ago.

“There were suspicious scenes in the accounting. There were indications that the profits had been manipulated to look as if they had improved.”

“Why do such a thing? The scale of the deficit wouldn’t be something that could be hidden that way.”

“He likely didn’t want his incompetence to be exposed to the Royal Family.”

“Haha, so he covers the deficit with private funds and tries to blind the King by pretending it’s turning into a surplus? He doesn’t seem to realize that the very choice to acquire Rodinton is evidence of his incompetence. How long has it been since the era of absolute monarchs ended, yet he is still trapped in the ghosts of the past? What a fool.”

“Though not every detail is ready, I will report to your Grace as soon as the materials are prepared.”

“Wonderful news! I must see that stubborn face crumple one more time.”

“Caliven Wisfield is still holding out, playing the sacrificial lamb, but it won’t last long.”

“If just one more thing goes wrong, we must ensure he is exiled to the provincial estates forever. Have we not experienced firsthand how things return over time if they aren’t properly excised when the opportunity arises? Especially since Edmund is pathologically obsessed with his eldest son, it would be best to send them both away at once.”

Rubbing his chin, the Duke of Devonshire added one more thing.

“The best outcome, however, would be for that heir to touch opium again.”

A smile bloomed on the wrinkled face as he thought of the easiest progression. With a hearty laugh, the old Duke downed the liquor in his glass in one go.

“It wouldn’t hurt to put him back into Saint Louis.”

“…….”

The flowing agreement stopped. For a moment, MacQuan was speechless as he recalled the sight of Aaron Wizfieldon, intoxicated by opium and unable to regain consciousness, at the Spencer Earl Family estate a few years ago. A human whose very soul was broken. There could be no more fitting expression.

Though he had feigned ignorance, he remembered exactly every step of the process by which he and the Duke of Devonshire had buried the Cornwall heir in public opinion three years ago. In the end, it had been only a partial success, but it was a useful card. To handle him more thoroughly and decisively, using the past mistake as a stepping stone, the method of manipulating him back into opium addiction, as the Duke of Devonshire suggested, was not a bad idea.

Unaware of how unwelcome his expression looked, MacQuan paused for a moment before slowly speaking.

“I will keep that in mind. For someone who has touched opium once, falling back into addiction is as easy as twisting a child’s wrist. There are various ways to go about it.”

“He might have gotten away with it once, but if the problem of opium addiction continues a second or third time, his prestige and trust will hit rock bottom. The evaluation of the Cornwall heir will no longer be lenient.”

“I will try to bribe those around him. There is no subject that attracts the public’s interest more than a scandal involving the fall of a noble.”

“I will leave that entirely to you, so devise a method. Let us end the conversation there.”

The current of memory scattered and then gathered again, hitting a wall.

The conversation continued for a long while. They spoke of various topics, but most of them converged toward a single goal. The expressions of those participating in the conspiracy were surprisingly calm and composed. As the talk regarding Cornwall and the Conservative Party wound down, Devonshire suddenly changed the subject.

“Lester.”

His tone carried a hint of fatigue.

“There is something I wish to discuss for a moment.”

The old Duke, from whom the air of a vile schemer and seasoned politician had vanished, spoke with difficulty.

“I intend to go to Wales soon. I must spend time with that child.”

“Are you going together this time?”

“With the cabinet affairs and all, it will be difficult immediately, but I intend to go before spring ends. I have already sought permission from Her Majesty the Queen, so I may stay for a while.”

When the political situation is chaotic, it is by no means an easy decision for a Prime Minister to leave his post. There was a reason for pushing through such a strained schedule, even while risking various predictable dangers. The physician who had recently diagnosed Elisha Lenzdoor had informed both of them that she did not have much time left.

“I apologize for not being able to accompany you.”

The Duke of Devonshire shook his head lightly and rubbed the tip of his cane in a circular motion with his palm.

“I would like you to act as my proxy in the meantime. May I ask this of you?”

“Of course, Duke.”

Calculations intertwined rapidly. At the culmination of efforts built over a long period, MacQuan smiled, curling his lips.

✧ ✧ ✧

Thud.

A pile of envelopes stamped with various family seals fell onto the table.

“……?”

At his son’s questioning glance, the Duke of Cornwall spoke with a blunt expression.

“Attend them one by one.”

Only then did Aaron glance indifferently at the sealing wax. When there was no response after a while, the Duke of Cornwall cleared his throat softly and pressed for an answer.

“You are now at an age to consider marriage. To conduct politics properly, you need support at home. If you start a family, you will feel more stability and responsibility.”

“…….”

“I have a few places in mind, but your opinion is also important. For now, let us look around once and then share our thoughts.”

If he were considering entering the House of Lords, he was actually late. Tapping the corner of an envelope printed with an elegant pattern, Aaron slightly raised one corner of his mouth.

“I see there are those who would give their daughter to an opium addict for the sake of success.”

“Aaron.”

“If I marry and have children, will my illness be cured?”

“Nonsense again! Who says you are an addict! What illness!”

At the crooked answer, the Duke flew into a rage and stood up abruptly. The old Duke trembled as if he himself had been insulted. Aaron sneered at the sight of him barely suppressing the urge to swing his cane. Had it not been during the session of Parliament, he was a man who would have undoubtedly raised his hand without hesitation.

“I can only thank you for your noble love in hiding your child’s flaws.”

Aaron laughed listlessly and pushed back his chair to stand up after his father. The number of invitations he touched was too many to count. Most were from families with daughters who had just completed their royal debutante season. After skimming the invitations briefly, Aaron answered firmly.

“Is there any need to go to such places? I will marry the woman from whichever family you decide upon.”

“…….”

“I mean, do as you wish.”

“……Are you speaking sincerely?”

Answering in a tone that had calmed down, the Duke of Cornwall touched his wrinkled forehead. There were many meanings embedded in the sigh he let out.

After staring at his father for a moment, Aaron took his painkiller with water and carelessly pushed the remaining invitations to one side of the table.

“I wish to avoid being the subject of gossip. If there is a member of Parliament who says a defective product with a severe opium problem is acceptable, please proceed with that.”

“You cannot avoid interacting with people. As you say, gossip remains, but since you have entered the House of Lords, you must think about breaking through head-on. How long do you intend to keep avoiding it? You must know that everything you say is the talk of a pampered man, right? Do you not know that Caliven doesn’t even have such an opportunity?”

“…….”

“And who would dare speak recklessly about our family?”

With an expression of genuine displeasure, the Duke of Cornwall stroked his beard.

Aaron gazed for a moment with thoughtful eyes at the family seals stamped on the scattered invitations. Patterns with various meanings were intertwined. The corners of his lips, feigning composure, trembled slightly.

“I will do whatever you command, so if you have finished speaking, I shall take my leave.”

Without giving the other man a chance to respond, he picked up his frock coat and walked quickly toward the exit. The anger piled high in his chest fluttered chaotically, unable to find its center.

“Aaron.”

The black shoes stepping on the marble floor creased.

“No matter what anyone says, you are my son and the legitimate eldest son of the House of Cornwall. Since you say so, I shall push it forward on my end.”

“I understand.”

“Do not forget that this is for the sake of the family.”

It was a command so rotten and corrupt it was sickening. Aaron did not answer further. His expression, facing forward, was distorted to the point where it could hardly be crumpled any further. His loosely clenched fists gradually tightened.

Family.

His life had never once belonged to him anyway.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was a street he was visiting for the first time in three years. His pace along the paved road was slightly faster than usual. The time granted to the young man was far too short. A hat pressed deep over a black-dyed synthetic wig and dark sunglasses served to block the attention of passersby. The man stopped in front of the Miguelen Trading Company.

“…….”

He could not easily open the door, as if the resolve he had possessed until a moment ago had evaporated. His hand on the doorknob simply repeated the motion of tightening and loosening its grip. Fear and hesitation, harbored over the past few years, were etched into his expression and movements.

After hesitating for a long while, Aaron pushed the door inward with force. Along with a clear chime, the interior of the narrow, old shop unfolded before his eyes.

Screeech.

As if time had stopped, there was almost nothing changed in the shop compared to his last visit. It was certain that the rapidly changing pace of economy and civilization had bypassed this place.

Amidst a surge of emotion so violent it felt nauseating, Aaron focused on steadying his breath, unable to even think of calling someone. The space, where sunlight streaming through the window intertwined with floating dust and the scent of old wood, existed as the very embodiment of the time and memories he had lost.

“My god, Blake!”

The reaction, light to the point of being frivolous, was mixed with unmistakable joy. Aaron turned around with a frown.

“How long has it been, my god. Not a word for years, and then you suddenly show up. Wait a moment. I was just changing the whale oil for the lamps.”

Aaron immediately glared sharply at the hand patting his shoulder. Mark Twegger flinched and took a step back, as if Aaron were poised to chop off his wrist.

“Now, why are you glaring like that? I only meant that I’m glad to see you…”

“I have business with you.”

“Bringing up business the moment we see each other. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Aaron replied instead with a light tilt of his chin. Contrary to his hearty laughter, Mark’s complexion as he led the way was far from good, even by generous standards.

Clack—

Matching the sound of the coffee cup being set down, Mark leaned close over the table.

“I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry, Blake.”

“…….”

“I really kept it safe all this time… but I took it out for a moment to move it to a better location. When I finished cleaning the new spot and came back, that gentleman already had a firm grip on the painting. No matter how much I said it wouldn’t do, his gaze was so piercing!”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it had been handed over for five thousand pounds. Even as he made excuses that he had no choice because of the threats, Aaron didn’t seem to believe him. The other man remained in a posture with his chin resting on his hand, glancing at him as if to say, Go on, keep talking.

“It’s an excuse, but I truly feel ashamed before you. Blake, I know words are useless now, but I truly didn’t touch a single sculpture. You’ll see if you check; they are perfect. I didn’t even take them out. I feared a situation like the painting would happen if I put them outside the shop…”

Mark, who had been speaking anxiously, paused to wipe the sweat from his palms.

“I’m really sorry. This painting was an unfinished work, and… it’s hard to say this, but while your paintings are wonderful, it’s hard to say they are superior to your sculptures. Moreover, since that painting was a study, I let my guard down. Oh! I’ve prepared the money from selling the painting separately. Don’t be shocked. That foolish gentleman bought the painting for a whopping 5,000 pounds.”

“…….”

“He’s mad…”

It would have been better if Aaron had cursed or shouted, but Mark’s tongue felt like it was burning in the face of the continuing silence. It was the moment he opened his mouth to make another excuse.

“I understand, so stop.”

“B-Blake…”

Answering briefly with eyes that showed no change in expression, the man pushed a white envelope toward Mark.

“Take this.”

“What is this?”

Mark took the envelope with a curious look. It was very light, and when he opened the entrance, a single sheet of white paper came out.

“Is it a letter, by any—gasp.”

With a choking sound, Mark’s eyes widened. His hands trembled at the enormous amount written on the thin check. The sculptor before him was dressed cleanly and neatly, but certainly not luxuriously or extravagantly. In short, he did not look like someone draped in wealth. How could such a person have this kind of money…

“B-Blake, have you joined some criminal organization or something?”

“Mark.”

He had no leisure to continue useless conversation. Aaron cut the other man off and stated his business.

“I need to ask you to keep things for a bit longer.”

“B-Blake, this money…”

“I’m paying in advance because it’s expected to take a long time.”

It was difficult to read the emotions behind the dark sunglasses. Taken aback by the unexpectedly calm reaction, Mark could not answer immediately and set the envelope down.

“Are you going on a long journey? Perhaps taking a ship to America?”

Only then did Mark notice that Aaron’s hands were clean, unlike three years ago. Though there were old scars here and there, they were merely traces; these were hands that had not held a tool for at least a few years. It also meant he had given up sculpting.

Instead of answering, Aaron smiled faintly and stood up. He scanned the shop for a moment and stared at the canvases of another painter piled in a corner.

“Did you try to paint me?”

The smile, unable to hide the joy, was meticulously dissected.

“I love it so much.”

“You can say whatever you like. Truly, I love it so much I can’t bear it.”

There was no evidence of the memories someone had lost. As if all that time were a dream and a lie, and as if even remembering it were not permitted.

Aaron stood in silence for a long time. Time flowed quickly within that silence.

“The painting.”

A murky emotion blocked his throat. After coughing twice more, he pressed his hat deeper.

“I like it.”

The memories floating in his head had no substance. It was a painting that would have had to be burned eventually anyway. Aaron opened his lips with an extremely dry expression.

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Blake…”

“It was a painting I intended to get rid of anyway.”

That was the end of it.

With a brief farewell asking him to take care of the remaining items, Aaron left the Miguelen Trading Company.

Shortly after, the Duke of Cornwall decided on a marriage candidate after careful consideration.

Lariensa Filmore.

The woman was the eldest daughter of the Duke of Newcastle, a current member of the House of Lords.

Aaron accepted the unilateral notification without expressing any dissatisfaction, and the old Duke, very pleased by his docile attitude, planned several banquets. Under the Duke of Cornwall’s seasoned handling, no one in the mansion felt the absence of the Duchess.

On the first day of winter in the following year, invitations stamped with the seal of the House of Cornwall were sent to the leaders of the government cabinet and the residences of key members within Westminster. At the phrase wishing for them to show off their hidden hunting skills to welcome winter, some wore a mean smile, while others recalled time lost to an accident. Cold days continued, during which all life curled inward.

It was a long, long London winter.

✧ ✧ ✧

Before heading down to Wales to meet his daughter, the Duke of Devonshire’s final outing was, ironically, a fox hunt hosted by the Wizfeldon family of Cornwall. Of course, the purpose of his attendance was the impure intention of digging up even a bit more of the weaknesses of his political rival and the rival’s heir.

Just before departure, the sound of a conversation between two men who had stepped back from the group drifted on the forest wind.

“Being here reminds me of old times. It was a midsummer fox hunt like no other.”

“It was indeed.”

MacQuan tended to enjoy hunting, but since the accident, he avoided holding a gun whenever possible. Even if he pretended it was nothing, the fact that there was a gap of several months in his life that he could not remember remained a significant shock to him. Although the location of this hunting competition was not Worburn House in Northampton, where the accident had occurred years ago, it was still not an easy decision for him to walk toward a mansion owned by Cornwall.

“It would be wonderful if, while catching a fox, I accidentally shot Cornwall or his son.”

“That is not a bad idea.”

MacQuan laughed softly and agreed with the Duke of Devonshire’s joke that wasn’t quite a joke. A lingering discomfort circled coldly around his chest. The first day of that early summer fox hunt years ago, when the accident happened, had been exactly like this.

“I will step back today depending on the situation.”

MacQuan wound the reins around one hand, repeatedly tightening and loosening his grip. Though it didn’t show on his face, his heart was full of unpleasantness.

“Do as you wish. Since the first day is a free hunt anyway, there’s nothing much to worry about. Where do you plan to be?”

Having practically lived in a separate office provided in the assembly hall for several days, the number of times he had slept properly was countable on one hand. Consequently, fatigue had accumulated to the point where it wouldn’t be strange if he collapsed right now. MacQuan checked the breech of his hunting rifle with a somewhat exhausted air.

“I think I’ll tie my horse nearby and take a rest.”

“You must be tired. Endure it a bit longer.”

“I feel impatient, as there must be results.”

“It is a long race, is it not? Do not think of it as a Derby that ends in a few minutes; pace yourself well.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

The main event was the house party that would follow the hunt. Within that, he had to observe Cornwall’s movements as much as possible. To find even a bit more to utilize, to scout for weaknesses.

Mounted on his horse, MacQuan slowly scanned those preparing for the hunt. The names of the attendees, their families, and titles naturally came to mind.

“A diverse group has gathered for this event as well.”

Unlike the general social pattern of inviting those who desire political connections to build friendships, the events hosted by the Duke of Cornwall always invited those with differing views. Considering his political inclination toward extreme conservatism, it was a flexible political skill that felt surprising.

“He has many flaws, but he is also skilled. Our pursued goals are simply different.”

The Duke of Devonshire did not spare his evaluation of his rival. Of course, separate from such an evaluation, as the leader of the Whig Party, he was currently making countless attempts to bring that extreme right-winger down.

“I also thought it was surprising. It is not customary to send an invitation to me, let alone others.”

The boldness of inviting the party involved in the disappearance case at Worburn House years ago was quite unexpected. Although it was thoroughly hidden among mutual interests at the time, secrets could not last forever. The words passed from mouth to mouth by the external personnel deployed in the search grew the volume of a substanceless conspiracy as the years passed. The rumor that Cornwall had plotted to kill his political rival was already accepted as established fact by many.

“He probably wanted to package the sins my son and I committed, somehow. Preferably under the name of reconciliation.”

This was the first event held under the name of the House of Cornwall since the father and son returned to Parliament. His will to break through the unresolved suspicions and the countless rumors circulating was clear. It was not hard to deduce for whom this entire stage was a game. It would be for the eldest son, whom the old Duke clung to pathologically.

With a skilled touch, the horse lightly turned in a circle.

“Anyway, this banquet is a stage for Earl Vispilt.”

MacQuan looked at the group gathered a few yards away. Between the crowd of people, horses, and foxhounds, he saw a man sitting straight on a horse. His bright hair was clearly visible even from a distance.

“Even so, the gossip surrounding Aaron Wizfeldon will not easily subside. Among the people, he is still remembered as a distorted side of a great noble.”

The reason the indifferent face, calculating the profit he would gain from this gathering, flinched was because of the words that followed.

“No. It is not just because of that issue. It is not an official announcement, but I heard that marriage talks are being pursued with the House of the Duke of Newcastle.”

The Duke of Devonshire spoke in a calm tone while looking at the pack of hounds. In an instant, MacQuan’s grip on the reins tightened sharply. He held them so hard that the veins became prominent. MacQuan asked back with an expression frozen like a plaster statue.

“……With an opium addict like that?”

“I was a bit surprised myself when I heard the news.”

His cold gaze shifted direction again. He saw Earl Vispilt, who still treated people with a desolate expression. MacQuan glanced at him, then, pretending it was nothing, put on his gloves and vaulted into the saddle.

“The Duke of Newcastle is not in his right mind either.”

“Because there are benefits for both. In terms of a combination of family and politics, it is a good match, so it’s worth noting.”

Stroking the mane gently to soothe the somewhat startled horse, MacQuan continued in a mocking tone.

“Is he not someone who was hospitalized for three years in the Saint Louis closed ward? His condition cannot be normal. I wonder if a proper married life is even possible.”

MacQueen Lester was a businessman who skillfully hid his inner thoughts in any situation. At such a sharp reaction from him, the Duke of Devonshire raised an eyebrow with an interested expression.

“Indeed, Earl Vispilt is someone with whom you have a bad history in many ways.”

“No matter how they package it, my belief remains that they kidnapped me and attempted to incite murder at the time.”

In his low scowl, it was hard to find any affection for the person in the conversation. He was a man who had brazenly tried to kill him even before the accident.

“Let us continue talking this evening.”

After watching MacQuan express emotion—a rare occurrence—the old Duke turned his horse toward the hunting line.

Starting with the sound of the master’s horn announcing that the procession was aligned, the group of attendees began to gather in one place. It was the same sound and scene as that day years ago. An unpleasant sense of déjà vu rose. MacQuan frowned for a moment and put strength into his foot on the stirrup.

✧ ✧ ✧

Cutting through trees with distinct gray branches, the white horse shook its head from side to side. To the sound of the horse’s snorting, the man on the saddle skillfully calmed the animal.

“The Duke and Duchess of Newcastle are scheduled to attend the evening banquet together. It is not a formal introduction, but prepare for it. Mistakes will absolutely not be tolerated. Escort the Duke and Duchess well.”

The old Duke, distrusting his unpredictable son, repeated his worries until the very end. Despite the headache of dealing with the aftermath, the reason Aaron detached himself from the hunting party from the start was partly due to his father’s persistent interference.

“Phew…”

Letting out a deep sigh, Aaron rubbed the space between his brows. By nature, he was a man far from obedience. It was not easy to suppress the hatred and murderous intent that surged up from time to time. On his face, which was pale to a frightening degree, a hard-to-hide fatigue was evident.

The sound of hooves treading on grass was heavy. Aaron remembered that there was a wide meadow a bit further ahead. It was a suitable place to close one’s eyes for an hour or two. When the urge to use opium surged, it was better to sleep.

“Let’s go.”

Aaron checked the remaining time until the gathering with his pocket watch and lightly tapped the stirrups. Following the rhythmic movement of the horse, a heartless wind brushed his cheek. His gorgeous yet intellectual face showed no emotion to any sensation.

As he reached his destination, the horse’s speed slowed significantly. A small hill hidden among lush shrubs revealed itself.

“Whoa.”

The horse shook its head with a loud snort. Aaron, searching for a place to tie the horse, stopped his movements only after discovering something in the distance. The horse’s snort became even more welcoming upon noticing a fellow creature tied to another tree.

“…….”

At the secret place he had struggled to reach, an unwelcome guest had already taken the spot. A person lying asleep under a horse-chestnut tree with only bare branches left entered his field of vision.

Aaron didn’t even think to grip the reins tightly; he simply stared straight ahead. As the wind shook the desolate branches and passed by, his neat eyes flickered slightly. He was trying to assess the situation, but thanks to the continuous snorting of the horse, his deliberation didn’t last long.

He hopped down, tied the horse to a suitable tree, and walked toward the place where the uninvited guest slept. His movements—from removing his hat to his steps forward—were exceedingly slow, and his sweat-soaked platinum blonde hair fluttered in the wind.

“…….”

Having reached a low hill, Aaron looked down in silence at the peacefully sleeping intruder.

It was a familiar face.

As his gaze traced the distinct, masculine features one by one, a mess of uncontrollable emotions swirled within him.

It was the same situation. The only difference was the smooth face; unlike the scar-ridden past, he was now sleeping in a perfectly intact state.

“Always……”

The heavily sunken words failed to reach the end. Overcome by a surge of anger, Aaron frowned deeply and nudged the sleeping man’s body with his foot. He intended to tell him to get lost the moment he woke up, so his pretty face was filled with twisted spite.

Thump, thump.

Despite kicking him quite hard, the sleeper showed no sign of movement. The kicking near the shin didn’t last long. Aaron leaned his head back. The deep blue sky poured over him. The air was so cold that the tip of his nose stung if he stayed still. It was surprising that anyone could fall asleep in this weather.

“Sleeps well, doesn’t he.”

After confirming the other was deep in sleep, Aaron carefully took a position beside the sleeping man. The sound of dry grass being crushed was momentarily noisy.

“…….”

The eyes scanning the sleeping face were both cold and warm. A flicker of hesitation passed through him, but Aaron soon leaned his back against a tree trunk and rested his head comfortably, just like the intruder.

Swoosh— swoosh.

The tree branches swaying in time with the constant wind sang a quiet winter song. The sound of slow, steady breathing suggested the man had fallen into a very deep sleep. Aaron propped his chin on one raised knee and gazed silently down at the sleeping MacQuan.

The sight of him with closed eyes brought back memories of the past. The one lost in deep sleep did not look at him with eyes full of contempt, nor did he hold a cruel blade in his mouth. Aaron smiled faintly, recalling one of his old memories. There was no trace of malice in the eyes watching the sleeper.

“Arrogant.”

Since their reunion, not once had things passed peacefully. Whenever they faced each other, the dog would spring at him and bite relentlessly with sharp teeth.

He had attacked back with harsh words in response to the cheap provocations the man threw, but the degree of negative emotion was different. His will to ignore the man always collapsed with frustrating ease, only to be rebuilt again and again, and even when he inflicted wounds and insults upon the dog, it was never satisfying.

“…….”

Whatever memories surfaced were all utterly agonizing. To the point where he felt he didn’t want to express them in thought or word.

With a distant sigh, Aaron covered his face. His right hand touching his cheek trembled slightly. Whenever he became slightly tense or sensitive, his body signaled it immediately. The dog in the hut was still deep in sleep. Truly a fearless man. He stared at MacQuan for a while, then braced himself on the ground with one arm and turned his body sideways.

“Theodore.”

The end of the word trailed off subtly. It was a precarious call, on the verge of breaking. The man with closed eyes wore a peaceful expression, hearing nothing, which created the illusion that he was simply sleeping peacefully by his side.

His dog had surely fallen asleep from exhaustion after treating the torn wounds caused by the statue that night.

A very long sleep, boringly so.

As the imagination continued, a stinging sensation echoed at the tip of his nose.

“Theodore.”

The voice calling the longed-for name was like a lonely song. It was a name that now only one person remembered.

A desolate gaze turned toward the heartless man.

Despite his cautious movements, the fragile blades of grass were lightly pressed down. The grass poking through the fingers bracing the ground pricked the back of his hand. It was a slow but deliberate movement.

“Wake up.”

He whispered in a completely cracked voice.

“Wake up, Theodore.”

A dark shadow cast over the sharp face of the sleeping intruder. His hesitating lips lowered and rose several times, yet they could not quite reach their destination.

“You’ve always been all talk and never kept a single thing.”

As the wind blew again, the bright hair fluttered in time with the movement. A dry leaf fallen by the wind tickled the back of his hand.

“Absurdly light and hasty.”

The painting of you is gone. As if it had never existed in the first place.

In that way, one by one, things disappear and are damaged, until eventually, everything is empty to the bottom and nothing remains. A life where only the family and title remain. A life rife with power, honor, and praise. Was this not exactly what his father desired most?

“……That’s why I don’t expect much.”

The whisper was terribly heavy and gloomy. The eyes looking down at the sleeper trembled slightly without him realizing it.

…….

…….

A long time passed. To the sound of softly swaying grass, Aaron slowly leaned down again. The intruder’s face grew dark, hidden by the shadow. Through the tense atmosphere where even the sound of breathing was cautious, the sharp tips of their noses gently crossed. Their lips touched, lighter than a peach fuzz.

“…….”

The moment lasted only an instant. The only witness to the secret scene was the winter buds hanging from the branches.

The lips parted before any faint heat could be shared. The other was still closing his eyes. A lukewarm warmth lingered. Using a layer of courage as nourishment, Aaron lowered his head again. Just as his lips were about to brush, a hot breath surged.

At that same moment, MacQuan opened his eyes.

“What the—”

Startled, the man bolted upright and pushed the person in front of him away with all his might using both hands.

Thud—!

Unable to withstand the impact, Aaron’s body was flung backward. The dry grass trembled with a loud noise.

“What is the meaning of this!”

Unconcealed anger and shock were etched clearly on MacQuan’s face.

“My god……”

The hand covering his lips trembled violently. He was in a rare state of panic.

MacQuan glared at the man who had collapsed onto the ground. As much as he felt bewilderment and anger, the other person also seemed full of confusion.

“Sir Wizfeldon, I asked what the meaning of this is.”

The words spat out one by one were colder and harsher than the winter wind. Though his mind was hazy from lingering sleep, MacQuan accurately perceived the sensation of lips touching. Just as he was about to relentlessly press the other for an explanation for this immeasurable unpleasantness—

“This is my private estate.”

The man, having stolen the initiative, slowly raised his upper body. Aaron looked around for a moment with a face that had regained its composure. The hand touching the ground trembled, but it was so slight that neither of them noticed.

“It’s not a place where an intruder should be sleeping.”

The expression of the culprit who had stolen a kiss was utterly calm. It was MacQuan who became flustered by that brazen and shameless reaction.

“Is that the answer to my question?”

“…….”

With a face that suggested he would not answer further, Aaron silently gathered his gun and the bag containing food and stood up. He roughly brushed the dry leaves off his clothes, looked around for a moment, and put his coat back on.

“You seem to have strayed from the hunting party; you’ve come too far.”

The answer he continued while fastening the coat was somewhat gloomy. The attempt to argue out of anger over the recent incident vanished in the face of the other’s bold attitude.

MacQuan still examined Aaron with dazed eyes. Regardless of his own confusion, the party involved was skillfully untying the reins from the tree. At that moment, a cold wind pierced fiercely through the collar of his clothes. Aaron paused for a moment before continuing.

“It’s also the kind of weather where you’d freeze to death if you fell asleep.”

“…….”

“Running away in the middle of things seems to be a habit of yours, but it’s not a very good one.”

Blinking his detached eyes a few more times, he pointed toward the opposite forest. A wind cold enough to sear the skin blew again.

“Go back. You’ll come across a few forks in the road, but if you keep going right, you’ll find the manor, so it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Having said his piece, he turned around without a trace of lingering. It was a back that offered no explanation, no excuse. Only then did MacQuan spring up and chase after Aaron.

“Wait.”

Aaron’s shoulders flinched slightly at the sound of the approaching heavy footsteps. The moment he placed his hand on the saddle, pretending not to hear, a large hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Wait!”

As he turned back, their meeting gazes sank darkly.

“Is it over just because you’ve said everything you wanted to say?”

“…….”

“Shouldn’t I hear an explanation? I believe I have at least that much right.”

The meeting eyes were vivid with unpleasantness and anger. At MacQuan’s increasingly urgent tone, Aaron frowned and twisted his wrist.

“Let go.”

When a pained expression appeared on the pale face, MacQuan’s heart suddenly jolted. Feeling a strange sensation as if his insides had dropped to his toes, MacQuan unconsciously let go of the wrist. The young Earl’s face, as he touched the skin glimpsed between the sleeves, was expressionless, yet on the other hand, he looked deeply distressed. Feeling as if the roles of perpetrator and victim had been reversed, MacQuan furrowed his brow in irritation.

“An explanation……”

His lips were dry. Even when he swallowed, his throat felt as painful as if it had been scraped with a dagger. Looking at Aaron Wizfeldon attempting to leave this place, an inexplicable urgency kept overflowing. Forcing down the searing unpleasantness, MacQuan continued.

“Explain…… yourself.”

“…….”

“Explain it to me.”

Despite the demanding words, Aaron remained silent for a while, slowly stroking his red, swollen wrist. His lowered eyelashes were the same color as his hair, creating an even more peculiar atmosphere.

“About what?”

Like some degenerate, disgusting scoundrel.

MacQuan found it hard to endure the storm of emotional changes surging within him. It was an emotion beyond his control.

“Do not try to evade this by calling it a mistake. I don’t know what you take me for, but…… goodness, did the heir to the Duke of Cornwall happen to have some peculiar sexual preferences?”

To overcome the rising anxiety, he pressed the other even harder.

“It’s a rumor I’ve never encountered in any gossip, but it is intriguing. Do you pick your partners, or do you do such things to any man?”

At the excessive sarcasm, Aaron quietly met his eyes. It was different in many ways from MacQuan’s expectation that he would get angry. The gaze looking back was calm yet lonely.

…….

……It was suffocating.

“How amusing. To think the highly dignified heir would show such a side.”

“…….”

“Why are you silent? Is the Earl not a great noble of the British Empire? I cannot believe such a noble person would commit such an act.”

Even while pressuring the other, MacQuan was seized by a feeling of urgency and restlessness. He didn’t know if that emotion was unpleasantness or disgust. He simply felt a deep wave of fatigue.

“My apologies.”

The apology was short but swift. It was a brazenness that lacked any trace of shame or embarrassment regarding the previous act.

That vulgar man might try to escape this situation with a single nonchalant apology. He might avoid him and dismiss it as nothing. A desperate emotion, almost a longing, surged within MacQuan that he must not let Aaron Wizfeldon go like this. Just as he was about to protest urgently to hold him back, the words suddenly continued.

“I mistook you for someone else.”

A bitter smile spread across the pale face. In Aaron’s wretchedly crumpled expression, there was a handful of pain, so much so that one couldn’t even accuse him of lying.

“Someone…… else?”

Someone else.

MacQuan whispered with a vacant face.

“Your sleeping face looked so much like someone I know that I made a mistake. I acknowledge that it was unpleasant, so if my apology is not sufficient, you are free to raise the issue in a public forum.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I shall be going now.”

“Sir Wizfeldon!”

Contrary to the calm words, the young Earl’s expression no longer held any composure. With the other’s attitude having softened, it was difficult to press further. As he said, if MacQuan found it unacceptable, he could simply make it public and attack. However, for some reason, MacQuan did not want to let the Cornwall heir, who was trying to avoid the situation, leave just like that.

‘There is definitely something. Something I haven’t realized yet.’

The moment they met for an instant, the feeling of the lips touching, the painfully distorted face—all these factors were clearly racing toward the center of some conclusion.

‘Could it be……’

In an instant, a certain hypothesis struck MacQuan’s mind like a powerful, fast bolt of lightning.

‘My god.’

He instinctively realized that this incident would become an opportunity for him.

It was the moment he obtained the decisive card to deal a fatal blow to the opponent.

“…….”

The shadows gradually deepened on his joy-filled smile.

“……Haha.”

Meanwhile, the horse snorted and shook its head. Aaron gently stroked the horse’s mane and patted its flank a couple of times. Contrary to his expressionless face, his inner thoughts were shaking like a ship in a storm.

He had succumbed to a momentary impulse. It was a foolish thing to do.

Just as he was about to mount the horse, pushing aside the bitter regret—

“Sir Wizfeldon.”

The schemer called Aaron in a tone that was much softer than the sharp edge of a moment ago. The strength with which he grabbed his wrist again also carried a heat different from before. His anger seemed to have subsided.

“Sir Wizfeldon.”

At the annoying request, Aaron sighed deeply and looked back. He wasn’t in a good mood, and his patience was reaching its limit. However, his thoughts were not fully concluded due to the words that followed.

“By any chance, do you have feelings for me?”

It was an unexpected attack. With his wrist still held, Aaron blinked. Seeing this, MacQuan pressed harder.

“Are you in love with me?”

“What madness are you speaking!”

His sharp cheeks trembled. His expression, which had been merely cold, rapidly stained with contempt.

“Am I supposed to believe the excuse that you mistook me for someone else?”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Tell me.”

As the interrogation grew stronger, Aaron could not hide his bewilderment and avoided eye contact. His focus shook unstabley. Aaron’s dry lips parted, and he finally let out a harsh laugh.

“You speak such delusions. Baronet, I admit my mistake, but there is a limit to how much of your insolence I can tolerate.”

It was a decisive blow. The uncomfortable expression on Count Vispilt’s face eventually told the whole truth. It was the moment the suspicious hypothesis clicked into place.

This man definitely……

The corners of MacQuan’s mouth rose so minutely they were almost invisible. It was a smile of certain victory.

“No.”

With a firm answer, strength was put into the hand gripping the wrist.

“If there were a mirror, I would like to show you your current appearance.”

“If you’re going to talk nonsense……”

“Do you know what kind of expression the Earl is wearing while looking at me right now?”

The moment he asked back, Aaron Wizfeldon’s body froze with terrifying speed.

Foolish man.

MacQuan found it amusing how naive the opponent was to reveal his true feelings to the enemy so easily. The chess pieces in his head moved rapidly. It was the moment the emotion revealed for an instant swallowed all weaknesses.

“……You do have feelings for me.”

The hidden blade flashed heartlessly. It was a weapon clad in armor that felt no emotion.

Aaron faced that deception head-on.

The man was no longer the dog guarding the hut in the forest. He was not the rough man who had promised to save him. The man was merely a Westminster Member of Parliament tainted by capitalism and a shrewd opium businessman. Despite knowing all these facts, Aaron could not produce an answer.

“…….”

The shell that opium merchant wore was a perfect image of his dog, but there was no way he didn’t know the corrupt and vile interior. A hot lump surged toward his eyes. Unable to bear the silence, the firm fingertips tightened strongly around Aaron’s skin. It was a pressure strong enough to burst the skin.

“The Earl likes me. Is that not so?”

Aaron stared at the man with eyes that shone loftily.

He liked him.

It was the kind of thing a three-year-old child would say. Whether in the past or present, that world-weary opium merchant would perfectly hide his greedy interior, only to occasionally reveal his true intentions with such naive remarks that it was almost laughable.

“Please, answer me.”

The momentum of his confident pressing was like a storm. A smile he couldn’t hide emerged. The eyes that met his were so piercingly cold that he looked almost triumphant, like a hunter confirming the final breath of his prey. There was no heat to be found anywhere in the tone discussing emotions. Only naked calculation and cold reason coexisted.

“……You truly are a man who cannot take a hint.”

Despite the chilly glance, the confident smile spreading across the other’s face remained. It was the posture of one who had seized victory. Aaron let out a hollow laugh and stepped into the stirrup, quickly mounting his horse.

“Earl!”

The man, who had caught up in an instant, blocked his path. Aaron found the face acting out a desperation that would only fool a naive novice absolutely appalling.

“I wish to speak with you. I am not trying to press you, Earl.”

“I feel no further need for conversation. I shall be going now.”

Without a shred of regret, Aaron turned the reins and changed direction. Neigh— the sound of the horse’s cry filled the gaps of the silent forest.

“Lord Wizfeldon!”

The shout calling out to him echoed from behind, but once the horse began to pick up speed, it showed no sign of stopping. Aaron stared only straight ahead, continuously whipping the horse. He quickly distanced himself from the place where that leech-like man stood.

I like you.

Aaron could not precisely understand what those words meant. That word was one of the many emotions that had been castrated from his life. There had once been someone who clumsily tried to teach him that emotion, but that was all.

“I like you.”

A wind resembling a blade blew. It was a fierce wind that sliced through thin skin, cut through muscle, and dug deep into the organs hidden within.

“Even if you know nothing, such feelings can arise. It is entirely possible to feel that way. You do not need to know everything about a person in order to like them.”

Overcome by a distant dizziness, Aaron spat out a fishy sneer. He simply did not know what expression to make if he wasn’t laughing.

Without even a moment to feel a passing glance or a breath, the heart burned black. For some, with ecstasy; for others, with pain.

Continued in Volume 3 of .

Footnotes

White Chamber: The meeting place for the House of Lords within Westminster

Woolsack: The seat of the Speaker of the Senate; it is also where speakers of parliamentary motions wait before speaking

Novum organon: A work by the English philosopher F. Bacon

What’s done is done. (Shakespeare, Macbeth Act 3 Scene 2)

Plymouth: A port city in the Devonshire region