Episode 91
The atmosphere was so cold it was almost unbelievable, especially considering they were hosting guests. The butler poured water into Ian’s glass, all the while nervously watching his master’s expression. Everyone living in the Mereloff estate tiptoed around the count’s moods, yet Ian and the man he’d brought along—Beric—showed no sign of discomfort whatsoever.
“Wow. The smell is seriously intense,” Beric sniffed, clearly savoring the aroma of the meat.
The Mereloff count snapped irritably, “Sir Ian, why on earth did you bring this fellow here?”
“You’ve probably met him before, my lord. Beric is the one I’ve been relying on most lately to handle my affairs. Since you invited me to dine, I thought it fitting to introduce him.”
Ian smiled innocently, as if unaware that no one had said he could bring company. The count’s irritation flared. If he’d known, he might have at least slipped something unpleasant into Beric’s soup.
“Let’s eat.”
“Yes, my lord.”
At the count’s command, the butler began serving the dishes in earnest. It was true what they said about wealth lasting three generations—even if the estate itself was on the brink of ruin, the household’s affairs remained intact.
Ian smiled warmly at the goulash.
“I’m glad you’ve developed a taste for goulash.”
“Yes, I admit it’s a delicacy of mine. I heard you allowed the peasants to trade goulash now. So even the lowly folk down below will come to appreciate this flavor?”
“Good things are meant to be shared. No need to thank me. Thanks to you, my lord, I was able to secure part of the tribute. Please accept my gratitude as well.”
No sooner had Ian taken a sip of water than Beric, as if on cue, began devouring the food with reckless abandon—like he intended to clear out the entire Mereloff pantry. The clatter of his utensils echoed relentlessly.
“…There’s such a thing as being vulgar, you know,” the count scolded openly, but Beric paid no mind. His attitude clearly said, “You bark, I eat.”
Ian handed his own plate over to Beric and spoke up.
“Since you’ve invited me to dine, I brought a gift out of gratitude. Clark, wasn’t it? The slave you gave me last time.”
The count’s wife faltered mid-cut, a brief hesitation only Ian noticed.
“I intend to return him. Had I known this would turn into such a large transaction, I wouldn’t have accepted him in the first place.”
“Hmph. Well, I won’t stop you if that’s your wish.”
“No notarization was done, so you can just take him back. Also, I have a proposal. I’d like to ask you, my lord, to encourage your peasants to actively consume our estate’s goulash.”
The count frowned. If that happened, it would be like Mereloff’s money flowing straight into a neighboring estate. Seizing the moment, he set down his utensils and snapped,
“Sir Ian, unless the earth splits open, we’ll be neighbors for life. How could you make such a significant decision as permitting goulash trade all on your own? And right after dealing with us!”
“I don’t quite understand. We didn’t come into Mereloff to sell goods ourselves. The peasants came here asking to buy. How could I stop them?”
Hadn’t they just confirmed economic autonomy? Ian crossed his arms, deliberately showing his displeasure.
Of course, he wasn’t truly bothered, but this kind of posture was necessary to make the negotiation meaningful.
“Besides, it was only because of our trade with you that I could authorize this. It meant the frozen relations between us were thawing. I thought you’d see the significance, but I guess I was mistaken.”
‘That mouth of his…’
The count struggled to suppress his boiling anger and regain composure.
“I get that it’s meaningful, but the timing’s off. I almost misunderstood when you said you allowed trade with the peasants right after I bought goulash.”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking. Please encourage your peasants to consume goulash, but don’t allow them to trade fresh goulash. We’ll try to enforce it, but honestly, we’re short-staffed. Supply and demand are closely linked; caution on one side alone won’t suffice.”
That was Ian’s reason for accepting the dinner invitation.
He was laying the groundwork, focusing on the act of ‘buying’ fresh goulash rather than ‘selling’ it. If the count died within a month, all bets would be off, but it was safer to prepare for the possibility that he’d live.
Of course, it was also a convenient way to keep Beric’s appetite satisfied. With all his activity, his food expenses were getting out of hand, so this arrangement seemed beneficial.
As long as the count didn’t have a stroke from the stress.
“One more plate here!”
“Please wait a moment.”
“Fill it up. Don’t be stingy with the portions.”
Beric held up an empty plate and requested more from the butler. The count grumbled but didn’t dare stop him, instead downing more wine.
“…You’re drinking too much.”
“Good. Then I’ll inform the estate: fresh goulash is a prohibited item. Will that suffice? You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
Ignoring his wife’s words, the count warned Ian. He meant that while he’d cooperate as much as possible, if Ian sold fresh goulash before the estate started cultivating it, he wouldn’t stand for it. Ian glanced at the count’s wife and nodded.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Then, let’s finish up and get going. Sorry, but I have a lot of work piled up. Wife, please entertain Sir Ian.”
The count seemed too frustrated to continue the meal. It was a rude move, but Ian didn’t mind. In fact, the meal would be far more comfortable without him. The count’s wife nodded as if to say, “Leave it to me,” and he stormed out.
Bang!
“Phew.”
Once the door closed, the count’s wife sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead. She hadn’t acted like this when guests were around, but perhaps the medication was making her more sensitive lately.
“Are you alright, my lady?”
“Of course. I’m enjoying the meal, aren’t I?”
But despite her words, she set down her cutlery as if her appetite had vanished. With a glance, she dismissed the butler and all the servants from the dining room.
Click.
As the door shut, Beric resumed devouring the food with even more gusto. Ian quietly asked about the situation.
“How are you finding the cosmetics I sent last time? Are you still using them?”
You never knew. Just as Derga had a magic stone brooch, perhaps the Mereloff count did too. The count’s wife caught the meaning and smiled faintly.
“Yes. I used them today as well. Doesn’t my complexion look better?”
“Seems so. Honestly, I don’t know much about it.”
“I heard you brought Clark along.”
“He’s outside. He’s worth more than gold.”
It was clear the gift was meant for her. If the Mereloff count died, the head of the estate would be vacant. From Ian’s perspective as a neighboring lord, this was an opportunity not to be missed. Their interests aligned, but it was still a clear act of goodwill.
The count’s wife lifted her head slightly and nodded in thanks.
“I see. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“But it doesn’t feel right to accept gifts for free. I recall you were quite interested in my ring last time.”
The amber-colored gem said to be made by a mysterious alchemist. She glanced upstairs and murmured,
“If it’s alright, I’d like to give you that.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Will you tell me why you’re so concerned about the alchemist’s failed gem if I ask?”
It was simple curiosity. Ian took out the necklace hanging around his neck and showed it.
“I actually have something similar.”
“Oh, a necklace.”
“It seems to be from the same alchemist. I’ve had it since I was young, so I have many questions.”
The count’s wife leaned in, intrigued, to examine the necklace. It was definitely the same as her ring.
Just then—
Click.
A servant entering the room froze at the doorway. Ian and the count’s wife were sitting too close. No one in the dining room had done anything suspicious, but the servant couldn’t help but lower her eyes.
“I came to change your dishes.”
“Good timing. I was about to call for that. Please change his plate.”
The count’s wife gestured approvingly. Beric had smeared sauce everywhere while eating. The servant hesitated but tidied the table and bowed before leaving.
“Are the guests still eating?”
“Did they starve for days? Why are they eating so much?”
“Right? Ugh, the meat’s going to run out.”
The servants in the adjoining preparation room bustled about. The one who brought the dishes stood frozen, sensing something odd. A colleague tapped her shoulder.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you moving?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I should.”
“Did you see a monster inside or something?”
“Not a monster, but… did the lady and Sir Ian always get along like that? I thought they’d only met a few times.”
“Why? What happened?”
“When I went in… the lady was touching Sir Ian’s neck.”
Ding!
Startled beyond measure, one of the servants accidentally shattered a plate. At once, every kitchen hand froze and turned around. Their faces drained of color as they gawked, mouths opening and closing wordlessly before they quickly surrounded the servant who had spoken, issuing stern warnings.
“Watch your tongue, kid!”
“Seriously, they must be crazy.”
“If the mistress finds out, we’re all dead.”
It wasn’t just Lady Lien who’d be in danger—if luck ran out, even the servants wouldn’t escape unscathed. Besides, who here hadn’t once relied on the lady’s help when they were being punished?
“Stop spouting nonsense. Just close your eyes and cover your ears.”
“Okay… I get it.”
“Forget what you heard. Remember when the count hit you last time? The lady took the blow for you and was bedridden for three whole days. Without her, you and the others would’ve lost limbs and been thrown out.”
Silence fell as everyone steeled themselves, trying to calm their pounding hearts. Honestly, who wouldn’t lose their mind if their husband acted like that? And Ian—he was the same age, rose from commoner to head of the family, and on top of that, he was incredibly handsome.
“This is insane. Really.”
It felt like a silent storm was raging through the mansion. The servants scattered quickly, and even the butler standing by the door gave up on entering and turned away.
Creak.
Tap, tap, tap.
The butler’s heavy footsteps slipped into the shadows of the hallway, heading toward the count’s study.
‘It seems Ian is trying to lure the lady into some scheme against Mereloff…’
But was there no way to warn her without causing her harm? The butler sighed deeply and rested his forehead against the wall. Far off, a sliver of light spilled from the dining room doorway.
“Butler?”
At that moment, a servant called out to him. The title ‘butler’ snapped him back to reality, dousing his pointless worries.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No. Enough. Help with the dining room.”
“Yes, sir.”
Passing the servant, the butler steeled his resolve. He was certainly grateful to the lady and felt a personal affection for her, but above all, he was a loyal servant of the Mereloff household.
Knock, knock.
“Master, may I come in for a moment?”
The door opened, and the count, puffing on a cigarette, turned his head in surprise. His gaze asked if Ian had left.
The next morning.
Ian rose as usual and stepped out of his bedroom. Everything seemed as peaceful as ever. The weather felt unusually mild for winter.
“Where’s Beric?”
“He’s laid up with a stomach ache.”
“That guy, always something. Tsk.”
Ian sipped his tea in the dining room, clicking his tongue. Maybe because Beric was absent, the mansion felt unusually quiet. Romandro was still asleep, and most of the Nersarn and Cheonryeo clans were out at the border observatory, watching the skies.
They went almost daily to read the stars.
Tap, tap!
Bang! Boom!
“What’s that?”
“No idea.”
Hana, pouring tea, paused at the commotion outside. A servant came running in, nearly tripping over himself in a panic.
“Master Ian! Master Ian!”
“Starting the morning with a bang, huh?”
“A letter—f-from Mereloff!”
“Honestly, that place…”
“They say the count is dead!”
Ian frowned at the abrupt news. The servant, gasping for breath, stammered on.
“The Mereloff count was stabbed to death by Clark.”
“What? But we had dinner with him just yesterday.”
Could it be that his sleep apnea worsened faster than expected?
But the servant’s answer was something else entirely.