8 – Act 3, Chapter 2

The sound of the quill being set down echoed loudly. Crumpling the paper, which was a mess of smeared ink, MacQueen pressed his hand to his forehead against a surging headache. For several hours now, he had been unable to complete a single phrase, repeatedly tearing or crumpling stationery.

“Damn it!”

Spitting out a coarse curse, MacQueen crumpled the last remaining piece of paper into a mess and threw it on the floor. As he sank deep into thought, Shuman entered the study following a knock.

“Master, Mr. Aljef has arrived.”

At the familiar name, MacQueen stood up. His fingertips pressed against the desk with a slight tension.

“Let him in.”

As the door opened further, Aljef appeared. The old butler quickly scanned the state of the study and quietly stepped back outside.

“Come here… no, no. Go sit at that table. This place is a mess.”

The following footsteps paused for a moment. Aljef looked at the crumpled balls of paper rolling haphazardly across the floor and anticipated what was to come. MacQueen, walking a step ahead, sat down quickly. He looked unusually hurried and disheveled.

“Opium and a large amount of drugs were found in the tea leaves given as a gift to Count Vispilt. The very items I told you to prepare as a gift previously.”

“…….”

“That man told me.”

MacQueen got straight to the point without pause. His tone was extremely low and dark.

“Explain why opium and hallucinogens were in the tea leaves.”

Contrary to the chilling interrogation, the hand gripping the writing table was trembling pitifully. It was a silent roar.

“I am sorry.”

Aljef bowed his head with a calm expression.

“I am not looking for an apology. Explain exactly why those kinds of drugs ended up in the tea prepared as a gift.”

“……I am sorry.”

“Aljef, I don’t want to be angry. I trust you.”

A formless anxiety settled like old dust. MacQueen didn’t even think to hide his distorted expression, repeatedly pressing his eyes.

“It happened due to a misunderstanding on my part.”

The two hands resting on his knees trembled. The image of the secretary who always maintained his composure was nowhere to be found. MacQueen asked back with a fierce sidelong glance.

“A misunderstanding?”

“Since you had instructed me to prepare drugs formulated with opium in the past, I misjudged that the purpose was the same. It is entirely my mistake.”

MacQueen groaned at a flickering memory. He recalled the act he had ordered with clear malice and where and how the result had been used.

“I misinterpreted your meaning when you said he was a person necessary for an important matter, and I instructed Mr. Rochester to prepare a mixture of hallucinogenic drugs from India in addition to the opium he always prepares. It is entirely my fault; I have no excuse.”

At the following words, MacQueen froze with a hollow expression.

“……Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I had no suspicions regarding that. When you instructed me to look into the hospital where Count Vispilt was admitted, I had a lingering doubt… but even then, I dismissed it as mere anxiety.”

MacQueen could not speak for a long while. In his mind, the foul deeds he had committed over the past few years as the representative of Klaus Diugen flashed by rapidly.

“Right.”

Only after a long while did MacQueen slowly nod. It was an awkward and monotonous movement.

“I see.”

He laughed hollowly and leaned back against the cushion. A deep-seated fatigue washed over him. It was impossible to find the root of where things had first gone wrong and become tangled.

“It was my fault.”

The orange light of the oil lamp reflected and flickered across his cheek.

“It is my fault. I did not think it was a gift you intended to prepare with pure intentions. I should have confirmed more clearly.”

Despite the continuous excuses, MacQueen swallowed his breath in silence without reaction. The statement that he hadn’t even considered it a normal gift became a massive sin, incomparable to anything else, weighing down his shoulders.

“No.”

A large hand, veins bulging, covered his eyes. At that time, he had been afraid that the secretary who had been with him for so long would notice his heart and grow suspicious. He wanted not a single small emotion to be revealed to others. That was why he hid his intentions further and used ambiguous expressions. Since he hadn’t given proper instructions, it was quite natural to misunderstand. It was difficult to even gauge where the past, from which all these wrongs began, started.

“I was the one who always ordered you to prepare gifts mixed with opium.”

“Lord Lester, I—!”

“You merely carried out the orders faithfully.”

MacQueen stared blankly at the void visible between his fingers.

Opium was my best option. It was the only way to succeed.

That excuse was a cowardice that had been taxidermied within MacQueen’s inner self for a very long time. Every choice made in the past did not simply end in the past. Whatever it was, it clung on and eventually reached the present.

“I shall visit the House of the Duke of Cornwall immediately and—”

“Do you not know that the moment you speak, your life is over?”

Aaron Wizfeldon had come back to opium through the will of others. To be more precise, opium and numerous drugs.

There were two providers.

His false lover, and that lover’s faithful secretary.

“Lord Lester, I am sorry.”

Even that is all your past.

A hideous witch whispered. A foul-smelling laugh echoed throughout his ears.

To win the favor of those fallen for the fruit given by the devil, MacQueen always gifted the highest grade of opium to his clients. Most of the ‘people necessary for an important matter’ that MacQueen Lester spoke of as the representative of Klaus Diugen were high-ranking officials or nobles who were addicted to opium and waiting for him.

“It isn’t solely your fault, is it?”

With a sunken face, MacQueen recalled the sins he had committed in the past.

Just once, he had personally handed Aaron Wizfeldon water laced with opium. He had intended to test the trust Aaron had in him and look for a future opportunity to make him addicted to opium again. He believed that seizing even one more weakness would be a good way to deal with Cornwall, who would hinder his future tasks.

“I am an accomplice as well.”

The experiment was a success. The Young Count of Cornwall drank the beverage handed to him by the vile opium merchant without any suspicion. Even though not many grains were added, a body that had once been heavily swept by opium reacted immediately. That night, Aaron Wizfeldon sprawled out like a corpse, unable to react to any stimulus, and fell into a sleep as deep as death.

The euphoria was fleeting.

Extreme fear rushed in at the state of the man who would not wake no matter how much his name was called. Even knowing there was no danger to his life, he could not endure the anxiety. In the dim dawn, MacQueen frantically called the deeply sleeping man, slapped his cheeks, and massaged his whole body. MacQueen could not forget for a moment, even months later, that terrible moment of relief when focus finally returned to those clouded sky-blue eyes.

He knew that no excuse could grant absolution for such a base and cowardly act.

“A duel cannot be avoided. I requested it, and that man certainly accepted. Though they say to send a formal application, is that not just a superficial process? Above all, the reason for this duel has nothing to do with those tea leaves. It is not something for you to step in on.”

“Doctor…”

Once the game of barbarism begins, it does not stop. One had to run until the moment the heart and lungs burst and they died. It was no longer a problem between person and person. Families, politics, and factions had become entwined. The past could not be undone, and choices carried responsibility.

“It’s better this way. What use is it to leave behind clumsy emotions?”

A sigh resembling death escaped.

“Lord Lester.”

“It doesn’t matter. I approached him wanting to know the voting situation of the Conservative Party… and I intended to settle it soon. The timing was right.”

Though it was plausibly packaged under the guise of a gentleman’s honor, a duel was merely a killing game where someone was murdered for the sake of pride. Even if one were lucky enough not to die, legal procedures remained.

Of course, in no way did MacQueen intend to put his life on the line in such a pathetic and miserable fight.

“I want to carve out this time.”

Ironically, no emotion or remorse emanated from the man who received the duel request. The trace of betrayal that flashed momentarily over those lifeless eyes repeated painfully, along with a cold whisper saying he wanted to smash and burn the time they spent together. MacQueen was well aware that those words were the perfect annihilation of the trust directed toward him.

Now, that person will never trust me again.

He will not be deceived by any words, any confession.

It was an end that could not be reversed.

“You simply made the worst choice among many possibilities you could have chosen… and the responsibility for that lies entirely with you, does it not?”

He recalled the cold comfort the man had once offered. MacQueen clasped his trembling hands together. The hand touching his forehead was cold and devoid of warmth, like someone in his memories.

“The introduction of the bill is just around the corner.”

All preparations were complete.

English merchants persecuted by the pressure of the Daecheong, a domestic economy plummeting by the day, and a national treasury hitting rock bottom. A collapsing trade balance.

And the Queen’s support.

Now, all that remained was to drive a wedge into the last flickering public opinion.

“I cannot quit over something like this.”

MacQueen repeated the words to himself like a mantra. Only a few steps remained until the efforts he had strained to lead for years bore fruit. This was not something to be swayed by a faint emotion that should not be named.

The eyes visible between his fingers sank deep. He had to keep running. Even if that act ended up destroying and ruining something. Otherwise, MacQueen did not know how to handle this heart that hurt enough to kill him. It was a pain as terrible as being thrown into a fire alive.

✧ ✧ ✧

The air was so humid that the skin it touched felt damp. Even if it snowed, it would melt before it could pile up. There was no hesitation in the steps crossing through the shrubs at a moderate pace.

Still, in the quite cold weather, the tip of the nose froze red. The greenish energy of the morning settled upon the thin cheeks. Aaron stopped and did not move forward any further. The sound of the following footsteps subsided along with him.

“The delivery?”

Calvin nodded silently in affirmation. Pleased with the concise answer, Aaron curled the corners of his mouth into a smirk again.

“It was around this time.”

White steam escaped from slightly parted lips. A few yards away, there was a hideous vacant lot where only traces of former human habitation remained. It was a place he had visited a few months ago, but it was still a space completely detached from reality.

Cold breath lingered.

“Thanks to you taking care of it, at least a few were preserved.”

“…….”

“I appreciate it.”

It was an expression he was hearing for the first time. The eyes looking at his brother widened for a moment. At the stunned look, Aaron smiled mischievously.

“Though a fellow more vicious than a thief demanded an enormous storage fee.”

The corners of Calvin’s stiff mouth also moved slightly. He knew well who was being referred to.

“He seemed flighty, but he was a trustworthy man.”

“His lips are on the tighter side. Still, there is no need to reveal more than necessary.”

The cottage had been discovered, and a commotion had occurred between the man hidden inside and the Duke of Cornwall. Afterward, the old Duke ordered Calvin to immediately demolish and burn the cottage. Most of the statues the brothers had made were damaged beyond recovery, but there were works within that could be preserved.

That was the first time he had properly seen the works the brothers had sculpted. Despite having no eye for art, the level of completion of the sculptures was so magnificent and overwhelming that he felt a momentary sense of awe. It was truly an extraordinary talent.

“He liked the sculptures you made very much, brother.”

Calvin recalled the situation when the brothers, in unfamiliar disguises, entrusted the storage of the statues to the merchant. The vacant gaze that remained fixed until the end, despite the expressionless face. Out of guilt for stealing a glimpse of the lingering attachment that could not be discarded until the end, Calvin had eventually shed tears in the carriage on the way back.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

Tsking softly, Aaron turned around.

“It’s cold. Let’s go back.”

“Brother.”

A heavy call summoned the brother. The complexion of the one who shared the burden that had become a deadly poison was stained with pain. Calvin’s lips flickered several times as if he didn’t know where to start, and his brow furrowed in distress.

“I do not know if you think I only do what I am told without any will… but there has never been a time when it was not my own will.”

A heavy resonance filled the forest.

“This time is the same.”

Having spoken briefly, Calvin took a step back. An intangible gaze touched the blonde hair that was slightly duller than his own.

“Right.”

Answering bluntly, Aaron turned away. A short silence passed on the humid wind. After a while, the sound of plodding footsteps echoed quietly through the tree-filled forest and then vanished.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Tell me why you still haven’t come to your senses.”

At the chilling reprimand, the servants hurriedly bowed their waists. Dr. Jackus, the primary physician, did the same.

“Your Grace, the young lady needs rest.”

“Rest, rest, always that damn rest. I’ve made sure not a single rat passes by all day, but it’s useless. Is there a problem with the treatment?”

“Absolutely not. It is simply that the young lady’s heart was originally weak, and she suffered a shock that was difficult to handle, so she is temporarily in a difficult state. Has she not regained consciousness several times since two days ago? It has only been three days, Duke. You must be patient and wait.”

There was no particular treatment method, nor any medicine.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Unable to contain his anger, the old Duke walked quickly out of the bedroom where his daughter slept. The secretary and servants followed.

“Where is Lester?”

“The Baronet is staying at his private residence.”

“Has the duel application been sent to the Wizfeldons?”

“A formal duel application has not been sent yet, but he intends to send an official document to the Wizfeldon family as soon as the second is designated.”

At the calm answer, the Duke of Devonshire gnashed his teeth, unable to contain his rage.

“Why is he so slow!”

“He is also preoccupied with designating the second.”

“Not a single person handles their work immediately. Are you all planning to smile, reconcile, and shake hands only after Elisha dies from waiting?”

The uncontained fierce energy manifested in his fingertips. Thwack! The cane, crafted from old wood, hit the lobby floor with a cracking sound and rolled away.

“If everyone is just reading each other’s moods, then I shall be the one to open the first exit, shall I not?”

He was a failed father anyway. Until the end, the Duke of Devonshire had no intention of laying down his honor for his sickly daughter. Nevertheless, he had to do something. Otherwise, the boiling hatred might overflow. The gaze drifting through the air shone gloomily.

✧ ✧ ✧

It had been several months since an outside guest had visited the Hurst office. At the sound of the knock, Porter popped his head out from amidst piles of articles and manuscripts. A face full of freckles appeared through the gap of the open door.

“Editor-in-Chief, a guest has arrived. He says you’ll know him if he says Mr. Mason; what should I do?”

Thanks to a massive investment from a bold nobleman, he had paid off his debts and finally hired administrative staff in addition to reporters after several months. There was no way he could forget the person who made such a thing possible. Porter jumped up and hurriedly gestured.

“Bring him here. Quickly, quickly.”

As soon as he took out some quite decent black tea that had arrived as a gift a few days ago, the employee who had just left entered the office again. The man who followed in was exactly as he had been a few months ago, except for his attire. Still wearing a luxurious suit, the man walked with a sophisticated gait to the guest table.

“It has been a long time, Mr. Porter.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you since then. I cannot tell you how much it weighed on my mind that I couldn’t properly thank you.”

Shaking hands warmly, Porter did not hide his pleasure.

“Your expression has brightened.”

“Isn’t that thanks to Mr. Mason?”

To the point where his initial suspicion of the investment proposal seemed laughable, the man had not exerted any influence since then. There was no coercion, nor did he force articles or reports for a specific faction. He truly left all operations to autonomy. He was a generous gentleman unlike any other in England.

“Please sit. I have some good black tea that came as a gift. I will personally—”

“No need.”

The man cut him off and waved his hand lightly. He immediately sat down and opened his bag. At the motion that clearly showed intent, Porter also took a seat opposite him in an awkward posture.

“Is there something going on?”

“It’s not that something happened.”

The man smiled leisurely and took something out of his bag. The brown envelope was stuffed with documents. As the pile of envelopes grew rapidly on the table, Porter, who had not yet grasped the situation, parted his lips slightly.

“Do you remember what I told you a few months ago, Mr. Porter?”

“Pardon?”

The man, having regained his composure, brought his fingertips together to cover his mouth. His expression was ambiguous, making it difficult to gauge his true intentions. Once Porter understood exactly what he meant, he let out a soft sigh.

“Ah, yes. I remember. Then…”

“I believe now is the time.”

The man pushed the stack of documents and ledgers toward Porter. Despite the simple gesture, Porter’s body flinched instinctively, sensing danger.

“I will offer no explanation. You may look through them and judge the journalistic value for yourself. Having spent a long time as both a reporter and an editor, I believe your judgment is sufficient. Of course, I promise that the Hurst will suffer no loss even if you choose not to publish an article based on these materials.”

By the time Porter sensed the dangerous scent mixed with that bright smile, his entire body was already submerged in the swamp.

“I understand. I shall examine them first.”

Swallowing hard, Porter opened the thickest envelope and pulled out the documents. The multiple layers of packaging suggested that the materials were extraordinary. For a while, the only sound between them was the rustling of paper. The eyes scanning the text and numbers rapidly shifted from anxiety to horror as time passed.

“My God, Mr. Mason, th-this data is…”

Berenbara Porter felt fear and exhilaration simultaneously. For a man who had once shaken the field as a journalist, it was, in a way, a natural reaction.

✧ ✧ ✧

The news awaiting the Duke of Cornwall upon his return to London from Kirkoldy was truly appalling. The old Duke bristled at the words he had just heard from his secretary. Deep furrows carved into his forehead with his violent movements.

“Does that vulgar merchant, who did nothing but sell opium, think that a seat in the House of Commons bought with mere money grants him a grand status?”

A loud crash echoed through the study.

“Not a chance. There is a limit to how much one can mock my house. How dare a man who doesn’t even possess the qualification to challenge someone to a duel dare to point his head toward the Wizfeldons of Cornwall? It is a duel that cannot even be established. We can simply ignore it.”

The administrative secretary, bearing the brunt of the anger, hesitated for a long time before finally closing his eyes tight.

“The one who originally intended to challenge the young master to a duel was the Duke of Devonshire.”

“…What?”

The hand removing his overcoat stopped. The Duke of Cornwall turned around, frowning.

“Baronet Enfield has challenged the young master to a duel on behalf of the Duke of Devonshire. Therefore, the young master cannot avoid this duel…”

The secretary could not continue as writing utensils came crashing down. The glint in the eyes staring at the secretary was eerily sharp.

“If it were for honor, he should have done it with that fellow Herald! As if Aaron couldn’t hit a dying, possessed old man? Where does that vulgar creature get off requesting a duel? He clearly doesn’t know that duels are only possible among the gentleman class!”

Times had changed, and the feudal definition of dueling had long since collapsed. Furthermore, MacQueen Lester owned vast lands in the Enfield region and was one of the most powerful members of the House of Commons in Westminster. However, the wise secretary chose not to argue unnecessary facts and instead avoided offending his employer.

“That may be true, but the young master has already exchanged cards, and since he has accepted the duel, withdrawing now would instead stain the young master’s honor.”

“I will deal with that part by speaking with Herald myself. That damn boy, why on earth did he accept it! He is utterly unpredictable.”

Cornwall walked toward the door with heavy, thumping steps.

“With things in this state, where on earth is Aaron?”

Blood lingered on his lips from the force of his grinding teeth. Veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping his cane.

“He has stepped away along with the younger master.”

The secretary, unable to bring himself to report that the brothers had gone to Worburn House in Northampton, clasped his hands tightly and steadied his heart.

“For heaven’s sake…”

The Duke of Cornwall, gripping the doorknob, let out a heavy sigh. Unable to overcome the overwhelming sense of dizziness, he pressed his hand to his forehead.

“Not a single day of peace.”

Both inside and outside the country, things were turbulent. In Parliament, they fought daily over the issue of war funding, and the intensity of protests in Scotland and Ireland grew stronger by the day. Far from proper integration, internal strife only added to the confusion felt by the citizens.

Despite his guaranteed position of power as the Speaker of the Senate, the Duke of Cornwall strove to lead a consensus through negotiation and persuasion, running tirelessly on the ground. It was a struggle solely for the stability of the nation. As a politician, Edmund, Duke of Cornwall Wizfeldon, was a seasoned and magnificent man. Despite his somewhat extreme right-wing tendencies, this was one of the reasons why many politicians, citizens, and even laborers relied on and respected him.

“Summon Aaron and Calvin immediately. By the end of today.”

“…Yes. I understand.”

The Duke of Cornwall roughly wiped his eyes, which were filled with fatigue, and returned to his desk.

“First, I must silence the newspapers. Those people have a keen sense of smell.”

He carefully checked the nib of his pen and quickly wrote down a message.

“Everyone is so loose-lipped. Vulgar people are everywhere.”

While Parliament was moving urgently regarding the vote on troop deployment, it would be fatal for such a matter to spread through the press, regardless of which side it affected. Even in the midst of this, the cunning of the Duke of Devonshire, who had managed to slip out of the center of the storm, was breathtaking.

“Cowardly man. He probably thinks that as long as he secures his own safety, it doesn’t matter how the duel ends. A duel between a vulgar merchant and the heir of Cornwall. A proxy, indeed! Ridiculous. If he wanted it done, he should have done it himself.”

He pretended to be composed, but the hand holding the pen slipped several times. Just as he was about to tear the paper in a fit of rage—

Knock, knock.

A hurried knock sounded. Soon after, Bernard entered hastily, his face pale.

“Bernard, why are you acting so flippantly?”

“Master, Master…”

The old butler held a crumpled newspaper in his trembling hand.

The Pride of England: The Truth of Cornwall and Rodinton

It was the headline decorating an unknown newspaper.

It took only a single day for the issues of Rodinton’s window-dressing accounting and tax evasion—which the Duke of Cornwall had tried to escape by shifting responsibility to his second son—to spread through the media.

Ironically, the person identified as a participant in this quasi-crime alongside the old Duke was not the second son, whom the old Duke had neglected and consumed his whole life, but the heir he had loved with all his life. All the revealed documents pointed to the fact that all data manipulation related to Rodinton had been carried out under the instructions of Aaron Wizfeldon, Earl Vispilt. Furthermore, it was revealed that the representative of Rodinton was Aaron Wizfeldon, not Calvin.

That afternoon, the same newspaper released another scoop on a massive opium lobbying scandal that had occurred in Westminster.

The Largest Lobbying Effort with the Lives of Citizens as Collateral: The Westminster Opium Lobby—Who is the War For?

The content decorating a page of the newspaper was even more shocking than the sensational headline. The article detailed and exposed the raw faces of key Whig Party figures and the Garraway merchants, who had attempted to recruit moderate figures within the Tory Party by illegally supplying them with opium to make them addicts.

Before the public’s shock could subside, the incidents followed one after another. Following the newspaper that first reported the scoop, many other media outlets bared their teeth and pounced on this intriguing series of events.

One day passed, and another incident was printed and distributed at every street corner; another day passed, and an even larger incident followed.

There was hardly anyone in the city of London who did not know the names of the father and son of Cornwall, the Duke of Devonshire, and Baronet Enfield MacQueen Lester, whose names plastered every newspaper and organ.

A story where sinister greed and power were hideously intertwined.

It was a legendary exposé created by the protagonist who would shine on the most glamorous stage.

✧ ✧ ✧

A breeze carrying the scent of winter entered through a slightly open window. Unlike the refreshing outdoor air, the tone of the conversation was grim.

“How on earth was that list made public? How was it managed! I cannot avoid responsibility for this either. Evidence has emerged that I instructed you and Klaus Diugen to be removed from that incident at the time. I am in a position where I must also undergo an audit!”

“…It is not that the materials we prepared were exposed.”

The eyes reading the Hurst article were colder than necessary. He did not look like someone who had been summoned to Buckingham and Parliament several times over the past few days.

“Keep a low profile for the time being. Suspend all remaining schedules. It will be difficult to speak at the reading for a while. Public opinion toward us is not good. The Tories are determined to drag you and me down.”

The accent slipped occasionally amidst the disjointed rambling. The old Duke’s eyes were quite bloodshot.

“Viscount Cambell has been tasked with delivering the final speech on the military expenditure bill. Fortunately, the Foreign Secretary is still maintaining a friendly attitude. Since the materials are already complete, it should proceed without difficulty.”

“I see.”

The content following the provocative headline was filled with the unconventional incidents that had shaken London for days. Even if the harms of opium were not yet fully known, the public was not foolish. The fall in image for those who used it for pleasure, those who provided it, and those who condoned it could not be stopped. Moreover, since the one who remained silent was Devonshire, one of England’s leading ducal houses, it went without saying that their honor had been severely tarnished.

“There will be no setback in subsequent work, but… it will be a headache for you and me. You must lay low and step back for a while. My God, why are these incidents happening one after another…”

The Duke of Devonshire swallowed a groan and repeatedly pressed his temples. He caught his breath for a moment and, with a frustrated expression, took out and lit his pipe. Along with the sound of the flame, bitter smoke rose.

“Even without this, wouldn’t the reading speech be difficult anyway?”

The duel was imminent. Regardless of victory or defeat, the survivor had to undergo a trial, even if only as a formality. If someone were to die, they would have to flee abroad for a while. No emotion clung to the hand moving the newspaper aside.

“…You will never be found guilty in court. I will never forget the noble decision you made for my daughter. I swear it on the name of the Lenzdoor family.”

“That is fortunate,” MacQueen replied with a somewhat indifferent face. Neither of them added the fact that the follow-up measures the Duke of Devonshire spoke of were only applicable if he survived.

“Has the date been set?”

At the indirect interrogation, MacQueen chuckled and moved his empty glass.

“Didn’t you break the Rodinton news to tell me to hurry? I plan to visit Pellynton Hall soon, so please wait with patience.”

At the cold reproach, the Duke of Devonshire raised an eyebrow.

“The Rodinton matter? What are you talking about?”

This time, MacQueen let out a cold laugh and leaned back in his chair.

“Looking at the content released to the press, it was the material I personally handed over to the Duke previously. The Hurst is a moderate press, but it is not on friendly terms with the nobility. Look at how they immediately broke the story about the Duke and me. Moreover, the Rodinton case was premature. Because you couldn’t wait those few days, the aftermath hit both the Duke and me. This time, your Grace made a mistake.”

The hand tapping the table stopped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That Rodinton was my doing.”

At the bewildered reaction, MacQueen narrowed his eyes. It was an unexpected answer.

“…Are you saying the Duke did not order it?”

“I did think that, but it was after the article had already broken. I had assumed until now that the Rodinton matter was something you had orchestrated.”

In the Duke of Devonshire’s expression as he trailed off, there was more displeasure toward the opponent who had preempted him than a sense of injustice. Someone had snatched away the last card he intended to use. If by some chance this incident were buried, he would have to devise a new way to bring down Cornwall.

“If not us, then who? Who would target Rodinton and Cornwall…”

A hollow question lingered.

“…Excuse me for a moment.”

Instead of answering, MacQueen hurriedly read through the rest of the article. The accusation, starting with the headline The Secrets of Rodinton and the Cornwall Family, was similar to the information he had uncovered through his own background checks. No, it would be more accurate to say it was more detailed and intimate.

The manipulated import/export figures and loan scales over a long period, the asset status, the suddenly changed representative of Rodinton, and the circumstances of shifting all risk to the powerless second son—it was internal information that exceeded the scope of what an outsider could investigate. It was the work of someone who knew the overall operations of Rodinton in detail, not just a simple laborer. In other words, it was clearly a whistleblow by an insider.

‘No way.’

A shallow frown formed between MacQueen’s brows as he read the article. It didn’t take long for various hypotheses to converge into a single conclusion.

The atmosphere at the table was silent. Faced with the expressionless Queen, whose hidden intentions beneath the surface were unknowable, the Duke of Cornwall could only bow his head and groan. The bravery that had contributed to a brilliant victory in the Waterloo War shrank infinitely in the face of humiliation. It was a gloom hard to imagine for a Duke who had once commanded England.

“Could there be anything more disappointing to me than this, your Grace?”

The question that came after the silence was colder than anything before. Unable to bear the humiliation, Cornwall’s expression flickered involuntarily.

“Your Majesty, please believe in me and my house. My only thought was for the sake of the country and the royal family. There has been no lie in anything I have said until now.”

“I trust you do not believe I would accept that excuse. If that were truly the case, why are all the shares of Rodinton held in the name of Earl Vispilt? Is it not common knowledge in London that your Grace cherishes Earl Vispilt dearly?”

“Your Majesty. Regardless of my affection for my son, this is truly the first I have heard of this. Until recently, the representative of the Rodinton Company was certainly my second son. I dare suggest the possibility that information was miscommunicated from somewhere.”

“Are you suggesting that the information I receive, of all people, is incorrect? Documents bearing the Duke’s seal have already been circulating in the press for some time. If your Grace truly did not know, is that not also a problem?”

“Please give me a chance to explain. Since succeeding to the dukedom, I have never once lived for my own personal gain.”

At the appeal that felt almost desperate, the Queen sneered coldly and lifted her teacup.

“I am well aware of the loyalty the Duke has shown the royal family.”

The short addition was as cold as ice.

“Therefore, if Rodinton is investigated, the circumstances will become clear.”

The red, plump lips that spoke slowly curved into a smile. At the meaning contained in those short words, the old Duke froze completely, unable to move.

“…Are you saying you will dispatch an audit team?”

“Should not all things be done according to procedure? I trust that your Grace will willingly show trust to the royal family.”

A black storm raged in his mind.

There had not been a single moment when he had not thought of the country. To faithfully perform the duties of a nobleman, he had taken on immense risks and losses to acquire Rodinton and had not spared support for the people. The same went for the manipulation of the ledgers. All these incidents occurred because he had aggressively brought in personal capital to hide losses and uphold England’s prestige.

If he told the truth, he might avoid severe punishment, but the label of incompetence that would follow the Cornwall family for the rest of their lives would be equally shameful.

“I could have gone through the minister, but the reason I arranged a private meeting is to show respect for the merits the Duke has earned for England.”

After watching the Duke of Cornwall fall into a dilemma for a moment, the Queen rose from her seat without hesitation.

“Since Earl Vispilt is said to be ill, there must be much for your Grace to verify before a special audit team is formed. I trust you will not say that all of this was the sole act of your heir. Though you might testify as such if you hold the Empire and me in contempt.”

At the cold sarcasm, Cornwall bowed his head even deeper. Even if he had pretended the boy was ill to prevent the news from leaking, the royal family could not be unaware. He realized that the monarch’s tacit approval—pretending not to know while knowing—was equivalent to burying the result of the duel.

“……How could that be possible, Your Majesty.”

“Prepare to stay at Whitehall for a few days as soon as you return to your private residence today. I cannot grant you much time, but I hope you recognize that giving you this advance notice and accommodating the heir you cherish is a gesture of my consideration.”

The Queen’s gaze, fixed on the scenery outside the window, was sharp and piercing.

“……I understand.”

“Do not feel slighted. The Duke of Devonshire will be joining you. At such a critical time, it is a headache for me to have the two dukes representing England appearing in the newspapers day after day.”

With that cold consolation, she turned her back. After the sound of her heels and the closing of the door, the last of the noise vanished completely.

“…….”

In the stifling silence, the Duke of Cornwall could not gather the pride that had fallen to the floor.

Barely three days after the Duke of Cornwall’s audience with the Queen, the tax audit of the Rodinton Company became a topic of debate in the Parliament and the Cabinet. Led by the chairman, the members and the composition of the investigation team were quickly decided, and discussions on the schedule and scope of the audit took place. The Duke of Cornwall appealed the unfairness, but he was not heard. The battle toward their respective goals and objectives was beginning to take shape.

✧ ✧ ✧

Due to the rain that had fallen for several days, the streets of London felt damp enough to be soaked. Late at night, as the roads were drenched in rain, a lavish four-wheeled carriage arrived at the main gate of Pellynton Hall through the thick, white fog. By the time the sound of the horses’ hooves stopped completely, even the pale moon had vanished behind the clouds. A deep night descended upon the world.

“…….”

For several days, the number of visitors to the mansion had been countless. They all sought Earl Vispilt in a fit of rage, but that anger was rendered meaningless by the overwhelming presence of the ducal residence; they were forced to return without even seeing his face. Every moment felt like the calm before a storm. The moment he identified the unwelcome guest standing at the door, Bernard realized that this time, he had no way to stop the man.

“I trust you will convey my wish to speak in person this time, even if I could not contact you in advance.”

His tone was as frigid as his ice-cold gaze. Despite the secretary following behind and holding an umbrella, the man was completely drenched in rain.

“……Show him inside.”

Bernard nodded to the maid. It was the signal that entry was permitted. Having confirmed the head butler’s approval, the maid no longer hesitated and opened the door.

“The Duke is currently at Buckingham Palace.”

“You are aware that my business is not to meet the Duke of Cornwall.”

MacQueen gave a cursory glance and brushed the rainwater off his shoulder. In his cold voice, there was none of the desperation that had characterized his reckless demands for an audience not long ago. Thinking it was actually better that the Duke of Cornwall was away, Bernard Austin turned around.

“Please wait in the drawing room. I shall report your visit to the Earl immediately, Lord Lester.”

“Do so.”

Without sparing a single glance at the lavish and antique interior, MacQueen followed the footman leading him to the drawing room, looking only straight ahead.

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly. It repeatedly narrowed and widened with each step, but Aaron knew that such forms were merely hallucinations. Recalling his physician’s words that the most dangerous time is when one cannot distinguish reality from illusion, he felt that his current state—knowing where the boundary lay—was relatively good.

“Though it is said that a Baronet brought the challenge for a duel in person rather than a second, there is usually a period of reconciliation before a formal application. Perhaps he has come to seek mediation.”

Looking at Bernard’s back, which seemed suddenly smaller, Aaron chuckled and scanned the wall.

“I wonder. I do not believe that vulgar man, who bought his title with money and even took a seat in Parliament, is properly acquainted with the rules of a gentleman’s duel.”

The irregular steps came to a sudden halt in the middle of the lobby leading to the drawing room. The stiff shoulders and rigid neck indicated that even the seasoned butler was quite nervous.

“Young Master, could you not have a period of mediation with Baronet Enfield?”

Aaron frowned slightly at the presumptuous remark.

“Are you telling me to abandon my honor to save my life? If I told my father, you would be the first to be dealt with. In that case, my family would lose a competent estate manager.”

Speaking with a hint of laughter, Aaron resumed his walk. Seeing the small master who had suddenly overtaken him, Bernard hurried to follow.

“Usually, there is a process of adjustment between the parties before a duel. The reason you are proceeding so hastily is……”

The wide strides narrowed. They had reached the end of the hallway. Aaron stared at the final door. Now, the only obstacle blocking him was a single entrance. Once he crossed this line, he did not know what words would pour from his mouth or what words would enter his ears.

“Bernard.”

The quiet call was likely too soft to be heard by the person inside the room.

“I have been patient for a very long time.”

Standing before the door, Aaron looked down at the handle. Every line of his sharp face bore the anger of the Duke of Cornwall toward the son who had accepted the duel. The marks of violence could not be easily hidden by any means. It was indeed a history stained with blood.

“I do not know if the God so praised by the Church of England truly exists…… but if there truly is a God, this will be the final chance He gives me.”

“Young Master……”

Though I had no faith to begin with. Ending his words with a laugh, Aaron took another step forward.

“I have no intention of missing this opportunity.”

The entrance to the drawing room was ornately framed by protagonists of ancient myths. The gods carved in stone repeated cycles of joy, anger, longing, and despair, much like humans. Whether it was a god imitating a human or a human imitating a god, both were defeated by desire and paid the price.

“Dismiss everyone. Though it is unlikely, should the Duke return, do your best to stall him.”

“……I understand.”

Aaron quietly tilted his head back and turned the doorknob.

Creeak—

As the centuries-old wooden door opened, the interior was revealed. A familiar man sat across the room. His sunken eyes and pale complexion vividly showed the exhaustion he must have endured over the past few days.

“It has been a long time.”

It was MacQueen who first broke the eerie silence. Aaron did not respond to the greeting and sat in the opposite seat. He scanned the table and soon let out a dry laugh.

“You didn’t drink the tea.”

“That is because a moment ago……”

“Why. Did you think I might have mixed in some opium?”

“…….”

MacQueen’s expression hardened at the words that pierced through him before he could defend himself.

“Not everyone uses methods like yours, so you could have drunk it comfortably. Would you feel at ease if I drank the same tea?”

Speaking mischievously, Aaron poured the properly warmed tea into a cup. The sound of the tea filling the empty cup replaced the conversation.

“I do not know what further excuses I should make to someone who has already closed their eyes and ears.”

“How confident. But your order is a mess. It seems you haven’t studied the rules of dueling. Until the day of the duel, the parties avoid meeting as much as possible. Furthermore, shouldn’t the challenge be delivered through a second? It seems you haven’t even appointed one.”

“My birth is lowly and I am ignorant, so words do not enter my eyes. Despite knowing it was a breach of etiquette, I had no choice but to come in person.”

Contrary to the cold words, MacQueen’s gaze was unstable, wavering back and forth. His dark green eyes, darker than usual, were searching the person sitting opposite him with obsessive intensity. Clothing, the shape of the eyes, the corners of the mouth, limp hands, a furrowed brow, a single twitching eyebrow…… he was poised to find every card the opponent held. After wandering busily, his gaze stopped completely upon discovering something.

“What a cheap duel……”

Tsk. The sound of clicking his tongue echoed desolately.

“Your hand……”

Realizing the question referred to the state of his hand, Aaron sneered and gripped the armrest of the chair. Even though the wound had opened and blood was seeping through the bandage, there was no change on his calm face.

“Can you even hold a pistol with that hand?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“It seems you are in a state where you cannot even pull the trigger.”

“That, too, is none of your concern.”

MacQueen eventually sighed and pressed his temple. Right, he had forgotten. This man was an opium addict and a madman. He was an opponent with whom conversation was impossible from the start.

“Let us end the pleasantries here.”

Fatigue that could not be erased clung to every part of his dark expression. The events that had turned his surroundings into a mess over the past few days flashed through his mind.

“London has been quite noisy lately.”

Rupert and Fleet Street in London were buzzing with news of the scandals and corruption of the powerful figures who dominated Parliament.

Corporate corruption committed by the top leader of the Conservative Party and his son, the dirty opium lobbying carried out by the Prime Minister and his prospective son-in-law, and the collusive relationship between trading companies and Parliament through opium—nothing was lacking in stirring up fervent curiosity. Those monitoring the scales of public opinion and power kept their eyes and ears open for the scoops breaking every day. Between the calls pouring in from the Duke of Devonshire, Buckingham, and the investigation team, MacQueen was already exhausted.

“The exposure of the social club membership list by Earl Miller Waison……”

MacQueen paused for a moment and slowly caught his breath.

“Was that your doing?”

His voice was very cracked and turbid, but the resentment within it was clear. Even without explaining who had done what, there was no one who didn’t know. Aaron did not answer the anxious question until the end. He knew that sometimes, silence is an affirmation.

“Did it have to be this way?”

Ignoring the accusatory tone, Aaron lit the end of a leaf-cut tobacco cigarette with a candle. Sizzle. The left hand holding the cigar trembled slightly. His right hand was wrapped thickly in bandages, perhaps due to the previous commotion. MacQueen’s gaze sank heavily for a moment as he saw the blood seeping into the bandage, but he forced himself to look away.

“What do you mean?”

“I suppose I must say it with my own mouth.”

At the expression that looked as if he had been betrayed by a lover, Aaron narrowed his eyes. He found it utterly ridiculous how the dog’s vicious acting continued, unable to escape the cheap play he had created.

“Why. Perhaps you didn’t like becoming a protagonist this time?”

“Was this your intention from the beginning?”

Eyes searching for any truth from the opponent wandered aimlessly. This time too, instead of an answer, Aaron wore a mysterious smile and exhaled smoke.

“I mean, did you intend to stab me in the back from the start?”

Only a portion had been exposed, but the content handled by the newspapers was not something that could be uncovered in just a day or two of investigation. The scope was unexpectedly wide, and the content was deep. There were not many people capable of gathering that amount of information. The nobles on the list had already established themselves in politics, so most were those trying to erase a messy past.

This meant they were people who would not budge for ordinary persuasion or promises of personal protection. Someone with the power to be trusted to protect them while simultaneously stimulating their anxiety. It didn’t take long to narrow the scope.

“……It was you, after all.”

As the silence flowed for a long time, MacQueen sensed that the answer he desired would not come. His face, unable to bear the agony, suddenly distorted. He covered his forehead and eyes with one hand to hide his expression.

“Is this because of the Rodinton matter?”

“…….”

“It is regrettable, but the Rodinton accounting fraud case was not reported by me. That matter was……”

“I know.”

The voice that abruptly interrupted was full of laughter. MacQueen stopped speaking and looked at the opponent again. No trace of remorse could be seen on that composed face. No way. The questions and assumptions that had not left his mind all the way to Pellynton Hall were slowly taking shape.

“……You know, so why……”

“Why did I expose your shame?”

Aaron chuckled with the cigar in his mouth. The laughter was extremely light and frivolous. Recalling the mad appearance of the man he had seen last, MacQueen faintly grimaced.

“You weren’t the only one whose shame was revealed. You wouldn’t have been lonely, as the Baronet’s old friends joined you.”

The list provided by Earl Spencer was extremely appropriate. To add credibility to the data, the name of the informant, Miller Waison, was engraved at the very top. Below that, the lists were exposed without filtration. They were all members of the House of Lords belonging to the Conservative Party. Those who were conservatives yet did not hesitate to be the first to betray conservatism. It was truly a mutual destruction where neither side emerged victorious.

“The Duke of Devonshire, our party’s members, and your party members were all exposed evenly, so isn’t it a fair game? As you already know, I’ve also fallen into a very difficult situation because the Rodinton matter broke. As you know, I am currently the representative of that company. I’ll soon be summoned by the special investigation committee under Buckingham. And the great Duke of Cornwall is currently locked in Whitehall, undergoing something akin to an interrogation. Ah, how shameful.”

Aaron laughed nonchalantly and flipped through the newspaper placed on the writing table. The smell of cheap ink stimulated the tip of his nose through the continuous plumes of smoke.

“Do you expect me to believe those words?”

“Even if you didn’t leak the Rodinton matter, is there any reason for me not to hand over that list? No, before that, what evidence do you have?”

“What…… evidence do you have?”

Delicate fingertips pressed sequentially on the names of MacQueen Lester and Rodinton printed in the headline. Below them, the names of the people involved in the case were listed like a luxurious appetizer.

“That Sir Miller Waison acted alone to detonate this bomb?”

“Sir Waison is a fickle man.”

“Haha, are you saying that the cautious and cunning Earl Spencer sent the ledgers to the newspaper out of mere whim, without even calculating the possibility that his own name would be exposed?”

“I wouldn’t know that. I only speculate that, resembling the first Earl Spencer, it was simply time for him to become righteous.”

The answer was already decided by the tone alone, which was not at all serious. To that man, whether MacQueen believed the fact or not was no longer important. No, it would be more accurate to say he didn’t care. MacQueen, unable to contain the surging anger, bared his teeth.

“Do you intend to deny it until the end?”

Looking at MacQueen, who was intoxicated by a sense of betrayal, Aaron thought of the moderate members of the Conservative Party or their children who had visited Pellynton Hall every single day for the past few days. They were all people who had trusted him and handed over materials that could become their shame. Every one of them, filled with hatred, wanted to punish the one who betrayed their cheap trust, but they had to return lonely without even seeing his face.

He had no intention of keeping his promises from the start. In the face of an incomparable difference in power, laws and notarizations were meaningless. He could simply suppress them with force, and even if they barked, it would only result in flaws for each of them.

“Good grief……”

The end of his thought-trailing words slowed down for a moment. Due to the rapidly encroaching fatigue, Aaron stretched his body further back against the cushion of the backrest. His physical strength had been quite poor lately.

“You seem to be mistaken about something.”

Stroking his gaunt cheek, Aaron crossed his legs the other way.

“The reason I granted your request for an audience was not to discuss such matters.”

The gaze that had been trying not to miss a single small action of Aaron’s became even sharper.

“Wasn’t there something you were to give me? It seems you didn’t bring your business card, though.”

He stretched out his bandaged hand. It seemed another part of the wound had burst, as new bloodstains began to spread slowly across the cloth.

“I have already secured both a referee and a second. I have also decided on the location for the duel. The preparations to send the notice by letter are perfect.”

“…….”

“There is a place in the London residence owned by Viscount Shefften that is perfect for burying a corpse. I do not know whether it will be me or the Baronet who is buried there, though.”

His long, slanted eyes curved softly. It was a smile where stillness and immense brutality coexisted.

“My heart was foolish to try and persuade you.”

Faced with an attitude that showed no intention of compromising, MacQueen rose from his seat without lingering. Even without asking further, the answer was already clear.

Whatever the intention, one thing was certain. The person who circulated the list was the man before him, and he had been preparing this betrayal for a long time. Over a period as long as, or perhaps longer than, MacQueen’s own, he had done so precisely and firmly. Even though it was a choice that would be the worst for anyone, it was clearly an intention to drive the situation to the extreme. Without a doubt, it was the ruin of Devonshire and himself.

Before being a politician, MacQueen was an outstanding businessman. He never wasted time and effort on things that yielded no profit.

“You are truly foolish. Did you think you could drag me down with such a scandal? Surely you didn’t believe that list existed only with Sir Miller Waison. A grand secret… Earl, Klaus Diugen and I also kept a copy of that list. Just so that I could tighten the noose around the necks of those who sold their pride and convictions for money and pleasure from me at any time.”

“…….”

“I have already risen to the position of a Member of Parliament despite coming from a rootless background as an opium merchant. The King, the Parliament, and many nobles accepted me knowing that fact. What do you think that implies?”

“What else could make humans as greedy as gold? That must be the reason.”

Aaron stared blankly at MacQuan, who was fuming with rage, and exhaled a long trail of Leaf-Cut Tobacco smoke. He rubbed his eyes with a slow motion and let out a smirk.

“What does it matter? As you said, how grand is that cheap ledger—where a small shop in Garraway and the incompetent Miller Waison merely watch each other’s moves—that it could shake the Royal Family and England? A grand delusion indeed.”

“Haha, now you’re finally showing your true intentions.”

“Intentions? No. The purpose of that ledger was merely to gain a moment of attention and buy some time, nothing more and nothing less. As you said, it is not surprising to reveal that dirty people are dirty. If you expected some grand intention, I am sincerely sorry to disappoint you.”

White smoke momentarily obscured the view between them.

“That is all there is to it.”

His tone was undisguised contempt. Aaron laughed, his shoulders shaking. At that moment, the precarious politeness MacQueen had been maintaining collapsed.

“……It is only for a while.”

As if longing, resentment, and regret had all coexisted at once, MacQueen’s face returned to a cold expression.

“The time my ankles are held by this matter will be a few months at most. As you said, do you think a group that has already tasted the gold accumulated from opium would easily give up that sweet taste and scent? At least regarding the opium issue, everyone is an accomplice.”

MacQueen took the challenge to a duel from his coat and placed it directly on the table. No trace of the nights spent agonizing over it remained on the neat envelope.

“I also have no intention of begging for emotions from one who sharpened a blade behind my back. Though the end is truly wretched and laughable as a price for a true love.”

Love.

Aaron’s face crumpled instantly at the words spoken without a shred of shame. A mass of murderous rage overflowed once again. Amidst the precariousness of a wall about to collapse, Aaron barely gripped the armrest.

“You should shut your mouth.”

“Why do you react so sensitively? Was what the Earl and I shared not love? And here I thought you had opened your heart to me quite a bit.”

“There is no way it was such a feeling. You must have been dreaming alone.”

His eyes, trembling with murderous intent, betrayed an impulse to plunge a knife into the other’s neck right then and there.

The words that followed were enough to momentarily snap Aaron’s precariously maintained reason.

“If it wasn’t, then I am sorry. You kissed me so tenderly and whispered that you trusted me, that I thought you loved me.”

“You’d best shut up, Baronet. As you already know, my patience is not very long. Though I don’t know if it’s because of the opium you gifted me.”

“Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t me?”

“That lie is no longer sweet. Unfortunately.”

Aaron responded with nothing but ridicule. The frivolous laughter tore through MacQueen’s conscience and guilt with equal intensity. Since neither had treated the other with sincere emotions from the start, he had no intention of showing any dignity. MacQueen had never known a feeling more wretched and miserable than this. A cracked, metallic sound escaped his raw throat.

“Think whatever you wish.”

Eyes that had turned to black ash shifted direction. His expression was now calm, as if the previous excitement had vanished without a trace.

“…….”

The bandaged hand was now completely stained with dark red blood. MacQueen recalled the painting that hand had torn and defaced beyond recognition. Just thinking of that blood-stained red hair made his heart tighten.

Therefore, those words were born largely out of impulse. Before leaving the drawing room, MacQueen finally squeezed out the rotten pus that had resided deep in his chest for a long time.

“Since things have come to this anyway…… there is something I wish to ask.”

He hesitated for a moment, but not for long.

“He truly called out to me incessantly.”

“What?”

The man raised his head with a furrowed brow. His pale face was so sharp that the term ‘nervous breakdown’ felt appropriate. The space between his eyebrows narrowed slightly as he looked at him. Under that blade-like scrutiny tracing every detail of his expression, MacQueen uttered the one name he wanted to erase completely from this world.

“Theodore.”

Even though he only uttered the name, intense pain followed. Simultaneously, Aaron gasped.

“Theodore……”

For the past few months, since the first time he heard that unfamiliar name from Aaron Wizfeldon, MacQueen had not forgotten it for a single moment. A man he could not find to the end, despite repeating the name thousands of times and spending vast amounts of money and time on investigations. A name he inevitably had to hear whenever he spent the night with that man.

“Was he your lover?”

The answer did not come easily. Aaron scanned MacQueen with a rare look of bewilderment. The hesitation shown by a man who was always arrogant and full of authority was an answer in itself.

“……How do you know that name?”

It was a voice laced with extreme vigilance, allowing no gaps. MacQueen laughed hollowly at a reaction that was not far from his expectations.

“The answer comes first. Was he your lover?”

“……Stop the nonsense and leave. I find no further value in answering.”

“I wondered, but I suppose it’s true.”

Had he ever seen that man so flustered? Had he ever spoken with such a trembling voice? A massive wave of betrayal became a gale and swept over MacQueen. It was a sense of betrayal so intense it was hard to acknowledge.

……Even when caught kissing secretly in a deserted forest, he was a man who remained brazen and confident to the end. Even in the heat of the bedroom, he gave him no room at all. Had he not been desperate to suppress and hide even a single moan?

MacQueen found it utterly ridiculous that a man who had always been like an impregnable fortress to him was crumbling over a mere name. Theodore. A name with no etymology and no root, just like his own.

“Are you curious how I know?”

MacQueen added, openly revealing his twisted true feelings.

“Because not a single day passed among the many nights we spent together that you didn’t call me by that name. How could I not know it?”

“I.”

The face, now completely devoid of laughter, gradually turned white. Eyes clouded with shock shook violently.

“I called you by that name.”

The man’s whispered words were closer to a self-mocking monologue than a request for a response. Seeing him so distraught, MacQueen’s unpleasant emotions shifted further. The man who had remained unshaken by any attack in the war that had continued until a moment ago was collapsing over a single unfamiliar name.

“Otherwise, how would I know that name? How many times you……”

“Shut up.”

The words filled with malice could not reach the end.

“It is not a name to be uttered by that filthy mouth.”

The hidden, raging teeth were now fully exposed. Seeing Aaron sharpen his edge to protect his possession, MacQueen let out an even more hollow laugh. It was the moment the assumption he had tried to bury under his pride became an established fact.

‘It wasn’t me.’

A lover.

That man was certainly his lover.

‘It wasn’t me.’

MacQueen’s face, looking down, gradually hardened. The person Aaron Wizfeldon truly desired was, as expected, not him. The one that high-and-mighty noble loved was not him.

Theodore.

“How many times you called him.”

He was merely a substitute for that man.

“You called him so tenderly. Do I have to tell you myself for you to believe it?”

Even the kiss in the forest—the claim that he had mistaken the person—was true.

“You cried out while embracing my body. You called him while wrapping your legs around my waist. Theodore, Theodore, Theo, my Theo……”

At that moment, MacQueen instinctively twisted his body as an object suddenly flew toward him. A solid statue grazed the edge of his shoulder and crashed straight into the wall.

Crash—!

The porcelain, colliding with the wall, shattered into pieces with a harsh sound of rupture. A cold gaze fixed on the angel figurine whose head had broken off and rolled away.

“You’ve finally gone mad, I see.”

“It seems the medicine you sent is finally taking effect.”

At the venomous retort, MacQueen’s expression, which until a moment ago had been bundled with bold confidence, distorted greatly.

Opium……

He clenched his teeth and swallowed a groan. The opponent no longer possessed anything worth coveting to the point of continuing a trade based on lies.

The act was over.

Aaron Wizfeldon’s act.

And MacQueen Lester’s act.

The moment they discussed the end, MacQueen had no choice but to admit it.

“You called him so desperately that there were times I almost answered your call without realizing it.”

It wasn’t clear from what point it began. It was simply a very slow and natural process.

“You asked me if I was dreaming alone.”

He missed him and longed for him, but he hated and feared him just as much. While repeating that it couldn’t be, his heart burned as the time they spent apart grew longer. He couldn’t bear it without seeing him. The breath, the cool skin, the hands full of scars, the low voice, and even the bitter scent of Leaf-Cut Tobacco clinging to his body.

Knowing that each of these feelings did not help his future plans—that far from helping, they were only things that would hold him back and make him fall—he had ignored and disregarded them.

“Since it wasn’t love to begin with, is there even such a thing as a dream?”

Gripping the handle engraved with acanthus patterns, MacQueen managed to twist his lips into a smile. The disappointment and betrayal toward the opponent who had unhesitatingly stabbed him, and the intense jealousy, turned into ferocious and cruel resentment.

The politician who had commanded the House of Commons was, at this moment, nothing more than a wretched man who wanted to hurt his lover even slightly. MacQueen found it laughable that he felt betrayed by Aaron Wizfeldon’s hidden sincerity, rather than the fact that the man was involved in a scandal that had stirred the world. Even in the face of the pouring words of malice, the man now showed no reaction. The more this happened, the more reason vanished and a twisted sadistic desire consumed MacQueen.

“I’m glad I can finally tell you the truth. Not for a single moment was I sincere with you. Love! What could be more disgusting and laughable than that between men? Fortunately, since you said you didn’t trust me either, I’m relieved. To me, the Earl was merely……”

Dragging out the end of his sentence, MacQueen narrowed his eyes with a face that looked unable to contain his joy. The hatred, aimed at the wrong target, pressed down on his tongue and tightened his heart more sweetly than opium.

“Merely a convenient pawn for trading.”

Amidst the complete silence, a firm leather shoe stepped on the broken pieces of the figurine. Sharp fragments penetrated deep into the soft carpet.

“I endured the disgust and the physical relationship with a man, thinking there might be a time to use it usefully, but unfortunately, this investment of mine has ended in failure. I believe it will be a good lesson for my future business.”

The cold sensation of brass dug into his palm. The chill penetrating every vein rapidly twisted and corrupted the passion that had heated to its limit.

“Very well.”

Kicking the fragments aside, MacQueen turned the doorknob. As the cool air rushed inside all at once, the vision clouded by jealousy instantly cleared.

“If that man was the Earl’s original lover, I hope you spend one more day of desperate time together before the duel.”

“Leave, Baronet.”

In the answer that barely returned, the rage that had been pouring out fiercely until a moment ago was completely castrated. MacQueen realized that he could no longer provoke that man with anything he possessed.

It was a perfect end.

“……I will contact you again after deciding on the second.”

With those words, MacQueen left the drawing room without delay. In his movements and gaze as he stepped outside, there was no trace of bitter lingering.

Slam—!

The final sound of severing the relationship echoed loudly. The footsteps heard beyond the door soon became the past.

“…….”

Aaron put down the Leaf-Cut Tobacco and slowly caught his breath. A weightless laugh leaked out like a seizure, but it was only for a moment.

“Huu……”

The emptiness hidden within the taut tension manifested in his trembling hands and enveloped him. His straight back slowly bent. Soft eyelashes touched his palm first, followed by his forehead, cheeks, and lips, lightly meeting in succession. Even as he buried his face in the hand where blood flowed from burst wounds, only the sound of breathing could be heard in between.

There wasn’t much time left.

Soon,

Soon.

……So, just a little longer.

The only person left in the magnificent and luxurious room continued to whisper for a long time, face buried in both hands. His shoulders and spine trembled, but it was an extremely faint movement.

In an additional letter that arrived a few days later, MacQueen Lester announced that he had chosen his close friend and former business partner, Klaus Diugen, the current representative Robert Higgins, as his second for the duel.

The very next day, a letter stamped with the seal of the Wizfeldon family of the Duke of Cornwall’s house was sent to Emblin House, MacQueen’s London residence. The period remaining until the date of the duel written on the single sheet of high-quality stationery was only two days.

✧ ✧ ✧

The hand placing the glasses on the console was full of irritation. It was because he had fought a war with his eldest son immediately upon returning to the private residence after a high-intensity audit.

“How long do you intend to stand there?”

At the heavy voice, Caliven Wizfeldon, who had been standing behind the curtain of one wall, took a step forward. A long shadow stretched beneath the fauna statue.

“I heard it’s tomorrow dawn.”

On the plush carpet, evidence of the violence that had occurred in this room until a moment ago was scattered everywhere. Eyes looking down at the dried bloodstains sank darkly.

“You are the second.”

“Yes.”

“It’s not even funny. I heard you even secured a referee. You’re practically poised to spread the rumor all the way to the Scottish countryside!”

The Duke of Cornwall rubbed his sunken brow and stared intently at the shield ornament engraved with the Wizfeldon family crest.

“Proceeding with things as you please while I was distracted by the Rodinton matter. Both you and your brother are out of your minds.”

“……I am sorry.”

“It is my fault for trusting you.”

A faint fatigue appeared over the wrinkles of age that were gradually deepening.

“Did you know what your brother was doing?”

“…….”

“Then again, there’s no way you knew.”

The old Duke clicked his tongue lowly, as if it had been a stupid question.

“He put all the titles of Rodinton in my name. He manipulated the ledgers and documents so seamlessly that I couldn’t find your name. He made it so that I would be the target of all audit responsibilities that arise hereafter. Thanks to that, it looks as if I embezzled the profits to give to your brother. It’s so absurd that I didn’t even know how to handle it!”

At the following words, Caliven’s cheek twitched. His deep eyes took on an even darker hue and dropped to the floor. The events that had occurred in just a few days were equally overwhelming and burdensome for Caliven Wizfeldon.

“I simply cannot understand this situation. Given his personality, he didn’t keep you that close, so why……”

Unlike his usual self, who would suddenly throw things when angry, the Duke of Cornwall sat in the chair with an expression that suggested he didn’t even have the strength for that. His tightly closed eyelids trembled for a moment. He breathed irregularly for a while and then slowly opened his eyes.

“Caliven.”

A quietly burning anger broke the silence. The Duke of Cornwall opened the console drawer with a slow motion. The movement of rummaging through the inside without hesitation stopped only after the sound of clashing metal was heard. Soon, something flew toward Caliven’s chest. Caliven looked at the object that had fallen after hitting his body and was silently shocked.

“……This is.”

His slightly parted lips trembled. He checked and re-checked the object his father had thrown at him several times.

“It cannot be helped. Your brother went to such pathetic lengths for your sake.”

The Duke of Cornwall’s expression was very relaxed, knowing that the gentle and obedient second son would not refuse. The hand gripping the object gradually tightened.

It cannot be helped.

His father’s words echoed hollowly around his ears. His eyes, blinking several times, were full of confusion as to what had been said to him.

“No matter how out of his mind your brother is, he is the sole heir to continue the Cornwall line. He is the perfect inheritance of both myself and Cornwall itself. Naturally, I cannot allow him to be held back by such a trivial matter.”

A short sigh carried a twisted affection for the cold heir to the dukedom.

‘No.’

Calvin immediately denied his previous thought. Affection. That word was a means of ignoring the pain his brother had unilaterally inflicted upon him for over twenty years, a word used to justify violence.

It was not affection. It was desire and greed. A greed that had become grotesquely twisted and ruined.

“I must make that bastard Harold pay this debt. Even if I have to risk my political life, I will not let this slide.”

“…….”

“As soon as the duel is over, you are to go abroad for the time being. I will handle everything. I will not simply abandon you.”

His tone was laced with a semblance of generosity. Calvin remained silent, tightening his jaw until the end. The heart that had been turbulent moments ago grew calmer as time passed.

“Leave. I have a headache and need some rest.”

“Stop being a nuisance and get out.”

His father’s cold tone overlapped with the blunt words from his memories, bringing back a buried past.

In their childhood, the elder brother neither stopped nor warmly welcomed the younger brother who often sought him out, exhausted by loneliness. Even that lukewarm acceptance was an exception whenever their father visited. Whenever the Duke of Cornwall entered the room with a terrifying expression, the brother would always drive Calvin out of the room with a cold face. The words he spoke while pushing him out were always the same. You’re a nuisance, so get out. Get out this instant.

He had been too young. He hadn’t realized those words meant run away. He simply felt lucky that he wasn’t the one being hit when he heard the horrific sounds coming from behind the closed door. Even though his brother was a boy only two years older than himself.

‘Brother.’

He had come this far by parasitizing the precarious wall that was the succession to the dukedom. The matter of Rodinton was the same. In the end, the only person who never turned away from him in situations pushed to the absolute limit was his brother, who was already broken beyond repair.

‘I will not turn away from you anymore…’

The clear gaze looking down at the pistol revealed his sincere feelings for his ailing brother.

✧ ✧ ✧

On the first day of the new year, downtown London was covered in white snow that had fallen throughout the night. It was a color so pure it seemed capable of absolving all wicked sins. The hands wiping the pistol grip and steel barrel with a cloth were calm yet cautious. In the case, the remaining pistol, an ammunition box, and bullet molds were laid out neatly. The snowy wind began to fall again, rattling the window with a thud. At the sound breaking the silence, Aaron put down the gun and walked toward the window.

“A lot of snow will pile up.”

Only the light of the streetlamps barely illuminated the long, grey stone path. His eyes, looking down at the night where darkness had settled, were serene.

“It was raining until just a few days ago.”

Calvin, standing a few steps behind him, agreed in silence. Because he hadn’t slept properly all night, the area beneath his steadfast eyes was dark. The red flames inside the stone fireplace roared, attempting to erase the remaining chill. The light of the fireplace flickered across his white cheeks.

“Everything has been prepared.”

His tone was stiff. Aaron, glancing at the tense Calvin, let out a faint snort.

“You look more like the one dueling than I do.”

“……That is not the case.”

Calvin hesitated for a moment before cautiously continuing.

“Sir George Rendall has contacted us saying he will depart directly from his private residence.”

To prepare for any unforeseen circumstances, a doctor had to accompany them to the duel site. Aaron returned to the table where he had placed the gun. He put the cleanly wiped dueling pistol into the box along with the ammunition. His movements were without hesitation.

Thud. The sound of a foul gust of wind broke the silence once more. The hand of the grandfather clock was racing toward the next number.

“Morning will be here soon. We must hurry.”

Thick snowflakes fluttered here and there following the direction of the wind, and the surroundings were darker than the dead of night. The dawn just before sunrise is always the darkest. Aaron’s right hand, stroking the box, moved somewhat unnaturally.

“I will stay by your side until the end, Brother.”

The words that followed were full of determination. Two different shades of blue met. Aaron, who looked at Calvin with a frown as if he had heard something stupid, draped the black frock coat that had been loosely hanging on the chair over his arm.

“Get ready.”

The expression of the man walking toward the door was so indifferent that it was hard to believe he was about to engage in a duel.

3:00 AM.

It was almost time for the carriage that would lead them to the duel site to arrive.

Tracing up the long neck, one would touch slightly thin cheeks, thin earlobes, and hair that was fine yet voluminous. Like a fingerprint, the features that specified a person were etched into his consciousness.

A straight forehead, eyes with slightly upturned corners, and softly groomed eyebrows; a slight wrinkle between the brows created a nervous impression. Tracing down from the slightly sunken eyelids, he touched the thin eyelids and long eyelashes where the shape of the pupils could be felt.

“Stop it.”

“Just a little more.”

His heart burned at the cool yet soft skin. The other person, noticing his anxiety, let out a low laugh. It was strange. Despite the laughter, it was a very low and lonely sound. Fighting the feeling of falling, MacQuan rubbed the bridge of his nose against the soft nape of the neck. A familiar scent and the fragrance of oranges drifted in softly. It was a scent so happy it made his chest ache.

“You smell wonderful.”

“That’s because you spilled it all over.”

Even the blunt reaction was lovely. The lithe body was nestled quietly, like a rarely docile animal. A wicked greed suddenly surfaced, thinking that in this state, a kiss might be permitted. With a precarious surge of courage, MacQuan tilted his jaw slightly and bit the other’s lower lip.

“It hurts.”

Despite the irritated tone, the man did not push MacQuan away. Instead, he simply wrapped one hand around his shoulder and the other around his back, slowly patting him. Their cheeks touched and rubbed together softly. Emboldened, MacQuan bit down on the remaining upper lip.

“I said it hurts.”

“Just a little more, just a little…”

The laughter grew deeper. It was a laugh where the temperature had risen and the loneliness had vanished compared to before. MacQuan, enamored by even that, repeatedly licked and sucked the man’s dry lips. He was desperate, hoping that the wounds remaining in that person would heal even a little.

I want to bring a little rain to your heart, which has dried up and cracked. I want to touch more, feel more, kiss more, and push my body deeper to soak you, who are like sand. If I could do that, perhaps I would see a side of you other than that twisted and cold smile. Perhaps no more wounds would form.

Just as his happy contemplations deepened, a cold claw emerged from somewhere and pulled MacQuan’s shoulder. It happened in an instant.

“…….”

He blinked his stiff eyes. As his shaking focus sharpened, shapes slowly began to appear. It was the process of adjusting to the darkness. MacQuan placed the back of his hand on his forehead. There was a chill, but unlike usual, there was no headache. The process of the senses returning from a long journey was, as always, uncomfortable yet mysterious.

“A dream…”

The sound escaping his constricted throat was deeply hushed. He could not remember the face of the person he had been embracing and rolling around with until a moment ago in the dream. Even though he had certainly known that face until the moment he opened his eyes.

He felt a sense of dissonance. He had never dreamed of a scene so specific. The content of the conversation was as vivid as if they had just been exchanging words. The only thing he couldn’t remember was the face of the person who had been with him.

Could this really be a dream? This vivid sensation, this emotion, this memory.

The formless anxiety soon crossed the threshold, beginning to dominate MacQuan’s heart and soul.

It was the day of the duel.

Continued in Volume 5 of .