RAMHM Chapter 54

Don't Run Away

Novian lightly touched my frozen shoulders as if to comfort them, then moved away to greet the other mourners.

"My lady, are you all right?"

Neil, who had been watching from a distance, approached cautiously to ask.

"...Yes."

I wasn't all right at all. Neck stiff, I tracked Novian's retreating figure with my eyes. And soon I felt the gazes of servants who watched us alternately, exhaling deep sighs. The sight of a widow calmly receiving her lover without shedding a single tear couldn't be a particularly good look. The servants' somber expressions. And Novian's leisurely demeanor.

Was my method wrong?

But to blindside Novian Trovika as Bliea Acacia, the only way was first to enter his estate. Without provoking the formidable enemy that was Novian Trovika, how could I possibly seize that position? But...

Is that really the only way?

Had my attempt to force entry into the Grand Ducal Estate—ignoring Novian's warning—driven the Count to his death? Though I had no more tears left to shed, my head throbbed painfully. The Count's death had cost me my certainty. My plan crumbled beneath the weight of guilt.

How disgusting.

I wanted to run away. Just hide somewhere like this, erase even the person called Bliea Acacia from the world, and simply rest. I received the few mourners present like a puppet with severed strings.

The more I chewed over it, the more absurd it became. Simultaneously, I felt as if I were slowly being crushed to death in this house filled with the Count's traces. Watching Novian casually greet people, maintaining his somber façade—it made everything worse.

He'd deceived me. Deceived Rhodness. And who knew if he'd also deceived Count Acacia. Under his thumb, two of the people he'd deceived were dead, and one had nearly taken his own life. Yet there he stood—so shameless.

I stood rigidly, quietly seething, then realized Novian had vanished from view. I began searching the estate. An instinct—every hair on my body standing on end—pointed toward Novian Trovika being behind the Count's death. Head dazed, body trembling, yet my eyes and feet busily tracked Novian's traces.

"Sir Neil, have you seen Sir Jimskehr or the Grand Duke?"

"My lady?"

"Have you seen them?"

Perhaps sensing my unusual state, Neil, who had been quietly following, wore a serious expression.

"I saw Sir Jimskehr heading toward the stables. I assumed they were leaving after completing the mourning prayers."

"Guard me from a distance. Don't follow too closely."

"Where are you going?"

"The stables."

"The mourners are still..."

"No one's interested in me anyway. Just station someone there."

I summoned a maid, left her to guard the lobby, and headed quickly down the garden path toward the stables. Questions and accusations piled mountain-high in my mind. I wanted nothing more than to transform this uneasy suspicion into certainty—here in my territory, not his.

Jimskehr, Novian's long-serving aide-de-camp, studied his lord, who seemed unaccountably pleased.

This was entirely different from how he'd appeared at other vassals' funerals. His shadowed eyes still showed obvious signs of sleeplessness, but his strangely languid gait and movements struck Jimskehr—who had watched him for years—as remarkably relaxed.

"Your Grace, are you well?"

"Mm."

The poorly maintained stable's smell was unpleasant. Jimskehr wanted to escape quickly from this estate permeated with death's energy.

"You'll come here again tomorrow."

"...Pardon?"

"Count Acacia's will must be somewhere in this estate."

"The will... you say?"

In the dark night, Novian's face was somewhat pale and composed, yet strangely flushed.

"But how can I presume to search the estate?"

"We cannot leave the widowed Countess to guard this estate alone. Unless specifically ordered otherwise, you'll report here for the time being. Before the Count's sudden death throws the entire Acacia household into chaos, it's proper for me, as their lord, to examine and care for the will."

"...Understood."

Jimskehr was bewildered, but had not the slightest thought of objecting to Novian's words.

The will...!

Seeing Jimskehr mount his horse, I hid myself in a darker, more secluded spot and caught my breath. I'd been listening to snatches of their conversation.

The Count's will is somewhere in this estate.

Searching a deceased noble's will was common sense. However, Novian paying attention to this insignificant family's will was different. That reason alone made the will undoubtedly crucial to Novian. I heard Novian's voice giving Jimskehr some parting instructions. The will. Where would the will be? If it was hidden somewhere...

The keys!

My heart raced. I had the housekeeper's key ring the Count had entrusted to me before leaving for the estate! I listened to Jimskehr's departure while groping along the estate's exterior wall. Pressing close to the outer wall, I approached the estate's back entrance when Neil, sensing something amiss, quietly drew near from a distance. Only after confirming Novian had re-entered the estate through the front entrance did I pull Neil close.

"My lady?"

"Watch carefully until the Grand Duke leaves the estate. If by chance he wants to see me, please tell him visiting hours have ended."

"Pardon? So suddenly?"

"It's an order."

I had no time to explain everything to Neil. I quickly entered through the back door, passed through the large laundry room, and climbed the servants' staircase.

Key ring, key ring!

Returning to my bedroom, I opened the safe containing Bliea's diary and my jewelry in one motion. The velvet pouch holding the key ring sat in the corner. Grasping it with trembling hands, I felt its hard, lumpy texture directly.

Soon after, through the slightly open window, I heard guests leaving the estate. I hid behind the curtain and waited for the Grand Ducal carriage to depart. All the guests filed out, and Novian emerged at the estate entrance. Before his carriage, as if knowing I was watching, he swept his gaze over the estate, then adjusted his attire and boarded his carriage. Every movement was elegant and precise.

He then spouted something to Neil, who had followed him out, before leaving the Count's estate without lingering. Only after his carriage completely departed from before the estate, and after confirming Neil remained with the other knights guarding the Count's estate entrance, did I firmly latch the window shut.

I steeled my resolve. I couldn't let Jimskehr search the Count's estate tomorrow and discover the will—whose contents I didn't even know—first.

Jingle! Jingle!

When I grabbed and shook the bell pull beside the bed, Yona and Marge rushed over immediately.

"My lady! The knight said you weren't feeling well..."

"From now on, don't let any servants come upstairs."

"Pardon?"

Marge, her face gaunt and bewildered, questioned me. I pressed the key ring hidden in my bosom firmly with my hand.

"Don't ask anything. Just do as I say."

Marge wore the same anxious expression as when I'd first tried to drug the Grand Ducal Estate's servants with alcohol. I patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"It's for the late Count's sake."

"...Yes."

Perhaps seeing the resolute determination in my eyes, Marge left the bedroom without further argument. After confirming all the servants upstairs had descended the stairs and were busily cleaning on the first floor, I headed straight for the Count's study.

The study, unlocked and entered with a large key, was desolate—its owner hadn't occupied it for a long time. Devoid of even a single decorative item, the bleak and frigid study gave the sensation of walking through a coffin the entire time I was inside.

Click.

The moment I entered the study, I locked the door again. Fearing someone might be watching from outside, I drew the curtains and approached the desk, relying on a single candle. Beneath the desk—bare of even a single document—sat a cold metal safe, solitary.

I inserted and turned dozens of keys from the key ring repeatedly until finally—click—the safe door opened.

"..."

Several gold ingots appeared first. And beneath them, several document envelopes. From very old, yellowed ones to pristine white ones that seemed recently placed. With trembling hands, I removed the bundle of envelopes first. My heart seemed to drop with a thud.

"!"

No—what actually fell with a thud at my feet was a pink diary, stuck between those envelopes like a foreign object. Yes, a pink diary. Extremely familiar to my eyes, and one that made fury surge the moment I saw it. One identical to the diary I'd been rummaging through all night until just yesterday.

Bringing the candlestick closer, wax dripped steadily. With trembling hands, I opened the diary. Unlike the previous diary filled only with doodles, this one—densely written in Ellaconian—contained quite a lot of text.

"Why. Why are you appearing again?"

I'd been searching for the will. So why, Bliea, are you emerging here again...!

[Novian Trovika, I hate you.]

"!"

The first sentence on the diary's first page. The only sentence I could interpret without a dictionary.

I unconsciously slammed the diary shut. Though it was just a single sentence, it felt like my breath would stop. Gasping roughly as if time had frozen, I barely collected myself, hid the diary and document envelopes inside my shawl, and fled the study. After locking both the safe and the study door tightly as if nothing had happened, I hurried toward my own study with quick steps—like someone fleeing.

I could light my study far more brightly than the Count's, yet the sudden excitement and terror wouldn't easily subside. Like someone possessed, I pulled the Ellaconian dictionary from the bookshelf and headed to my desk.

I walked with such force it made thumping sounds. The memories and sensations of that day when I'd first interpreted Bliea's diary remained vivid. Yet again, during my most difficult period, I had to interpret Bliea's diary—an extremely burdensome fact.

What words did she use to mock and ridicule me this time?

Just thinking it made my mind freeze over. But contrary to my expectations, after frantically looking up words and interpreting sentences—except for the most difficult ones—the translation read as follows:

[Regret and guilt are utterly useless emotions.]

[Count Acacia, too, was merely someone who had been in cahoots with Novian Trovika only to be discarded.]

[Even as I felt the urge to leave everything behind and run away...]

[Conversely, nights arrived when I couldn't bear the pity for the life I had lost.]

I rubbed my arms, shivering for no reason, then inhaled deeply and exhaled repeatedly. I couldn't bear it without vigorously rubbing my ears and nape with both hands.

Could this actually be my diary?

The thought was foolish enough, yet Bliea's diary reflected my current state of mind like a mirror.

"...!"

As if I'd touched some utterly disgusting insect, I'd somehow pushed the diary far away. No one was watching me, yet it felt as if Bliea's ghost stood before me, whispering while watching. Terror and fury toward her surged simultaneously. I ground out my boiling voice into the empty air as if Bliea were there.

"Yes, I want to run away. Why are you doing this? Why do you keep, to me...!"

[It's too late to turn back.]

A sentence requiring no dictionary search answered me next. I finally began laughing—or crying.

"What even are you...?"

[Don't run away. Enter the Grand Duke's residence and uncover all the secrets.]

Ah. How is this possible? What is this woman?

[Don't run away.]

How could someone write a diary like this?

[Adrienne Swan Pirata.]

My name—written boldly in Imperial script—sat prominently at the yellowed diary's edge. As if she'd known in advance that I would read her diary.