The Viscount Waits
Even though she had braced herself for it, her heart dropped with a heavy thud.
This feeling, too, was an emotion Chloe Grace’s body remembered.
Donghee took a moment to steady her breathing, then replied in a deliberately casual tone.
“Tell him I’m not quite ready yet and he’ll have to wait a little longer.”
“Pardon?”
Scrooge thought he must have misheard. Never once had the young lady kept Viscount Patrasche waiting. In the past, the moment she heard he had crossed the drawbridge, she would have rushed out in a fluster.
It had always pained him to watch that. Who would have thought a day like this would come?
While Scrooge stood blinking in disbelief, Donghee spoke again, her voice indifferent.
“Tell him to wait. As you can see, Anna is still braiding my hair.”
“I’ve already finished braiding it… my lady.”
“What? You need to braid this side too? Goodness, why do you enjoy braiding hair so much? Fine, do this side as well.”
Donghee held out the unbraided side of her hair, pretending not to have heard Anna’s protest.
Anna stared at Chloe, who was nonchalantly offering hair that had already been styled, unsure what to do.
Delma watched the scene in a daze before letting out a short “Ah!” as if she had realized something. She quickly undid one of the finished braids, not forgetting to give Anna a quick wink.
“Oh dear, this part looks a bit off, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, yes!”
Only then did Anna grasp the young lady’s intention. She began loosening several of the braids she had already finished.
“The thickness is uneven here and here. I’ll fix it right away, my lady.”
“Do that. You know how important consistent thickness is when braiding hair.”
“Yes!”
While Anna resumed braiding, a soft humming drifted from Delma’s lips.
The territory Patrasche had seized stretched all the way from the end of Enol to the western edge where it met the sea.
As he passed through his steadily developing lands, Patrasche felt a surge of satisfaction.
“Father, thanks to this bridge, we’ll save so much time and money from now on.”
Aileen smiled brightly from inside the carriage as she gazed outside. Construction on the Valunga Bridge had been completed just in time for the viscount’s visit to Grace, and today marked its first use.
Though the viscount disliked wasting money on lavish ceremonies, he had delivered a memorable speech to the territory’s residents before crossing the bridge and received thunderous applause in return.
The Valunga Bridge would become the longest and sturdiest bridge in the northern region.
Patrasche had spent a fortune hiring a renowned architect from the Eastern Continent to complete it. The cost had been enormous, but it was far better than repeatedly failing and losing construction funds.
Moreover, the shortest route to several inland nations passed directly over the Valunga Bridge. That path would be fully realized once the Grace territory was completely absorbed—an outcome Patrasche considered inevitable.
“This bridge will become a new source of revenue for our territory.”
Patrasche nodded with satisfaction as he glanced back at the receding bridge. To him, the future held nothing but hope and success.
“I heard there was some resistance from the residents forced into labor?”
At his daughter’s question, the smile on his face vanished instantly.
“Those people are always full of complaints. I brought them here when they were starving to death and saved their lives, yet they show no gratitude.”
Most of the laborers on this project had originally been commoners from the Grace territory.
Residents originally under Patrasche’s rule had been exempt from the labor. He wanted to instill in them the notion that they were fundamentally different from those of Grace origin.
Naturally, the loyalty of the Falcona residents toward Viscount Patrasche had grown, while subtle discrimination against those from Grace had intensified.
Though tension existed between the two groups, it had not yet reached a breaking point.
The people from Grace were content as long as they were fed one full meal a day. Yet complaints had begun to surface during this construction, culminating in a half-hearted show of resistance.
“You’re right. If we’d left them alone, they’d probably be dead by now.”
Aileen frowned, clearly displeased by their collective action.
“What do you think, Aileen? How should we deal with them?”
Patrasche asked, expecting a clever answer from his daughter. Aileen met his gaze steadily before replying in an indifferent tone.
“Execute the ringleaders in front of the villagers. Don’t kill their families.”
“Spare them?”
It was not the answer he wanted. He suppressed his disappointment and waited for her to continue.
“Killing them is too easy. Instead, cut off one limb from each of them—every remaining family member. Ah! Do it in front of the ringleaders before executing them. That will have a greater effect.”
“Even the elderly and children?”
“Of course. There should be no exceptions. They should still be grateful we’re sparing their lives, shouldn’t they?”
“It will serve as a warning to others?”
“Yes. No parent would want to see their child’s limbs severed.”
“And what about those who merely participated without leading?”
“Let the participants live, but sever the limbs of their families.”
“So they’ll feel regret?”
“Yes, and they’ll hear their families’ resentment. If they can’t bear it, they’ll commit suicide. The important thing is that we showed them mercy—by letting them live.”
Patrasche nodded slowly, satisfied with his daughter’s response.
She truly was his own flesh and blood. It was almost a shame she wasn’t a son.
“Well done.”
Aileen smiled radiantly, her doll-like face lighting up at her father’s praise.
At last, the drawbridge of Grace Castle began to lower slowly.
Every time he passed through here, Patrasche prayed that the day he became the castle’s master would come soon.
The credit for joining the war in place of the eldest son, Karl Grace, and securing victory, as well as the merit of watching over the territory day and night, had all gone to Karl Grace—the legitimate heir.
“I shall leave the Falcona region to you.”
Those were the words the late Marquis Roysen Grace had spoken when he granted Patrasche the title of viscount after his great victory against the demon race.
“It is a place with boundless potential for development. Show me what you can do there.”
In other words, it was a remote and backward place.
The dying Marquis Roysen had intended to send Patrasche far away to protect his eldest son, Karl.
Patrasche had never coveted the position of heir. All he had wanted was the right to call himself a member of the Grace marquisate in front of the retainers—to be acknowledged as part of the family. But even that had been too much to ask, he realized.
That was the moment Grace ceased to be something he needed to protect and became something he had to destroy and seize.
Patrasche had proudly developed the Falcona territory and accumulated wealth by any means necessary.
Usurping the marquis title from his foolish niece would not be difficult either.
It was not only Patrasche’s belief. As Chloe’s legal guardian, he was already treated as the marquis by the Grace retainers.
Quite a few had already sworn loyalty to him, openly declaring that Viscount Patrasche was the rightful successor to the Grace family.
Everything was proceeding according to his plan.
The contracts he had drawn up each time he bought land from Chloe at a bargain price were magical contracts crafted at great expense. With every signature, Chloe’s judgment grew cloudier, and she became more obedient to his words. Only five contracts remained.
If Chloe signed just five more times, the true master of the Grace territory would be none other than Patrasche Grace—himself.
Marquis Patrasche Grace.
Every time he imagined the title that would follow his name, a thrill rose in his chest.
Patrasche felt immensely proud of himself for never giving up and reaching this point.
“Do we really have to move into such a run-down castle?”
Aileen was clearly displeased with Grace Castle.
She acknowledged its size, but that was all. The walls, the buildings, and the village within the ramparts were all old and shabby. Every time she looked at them, she felt as though she were growing poorer herself.
“Imagine it. The day we transform this shabby place with our own power. Besides, Grace is the true center of the north. Falcona is too far to the west. From there, it would be difficult to unite the northern region.”
“I know that, but this place is simply too pitiful.”
Pleased by his daughter’s complaints, Patrasche laughed heartily before speaking in a gentle voice.
“Don’t worry. I’ll renovate everything exactly as you wish. After all, this Grace will be yours to inherit.”
“Yes, Father!”
Aileen looked at her father, who had never once refused her requests, with pride and a satisfied smile.
“He told me to wait?”
It was already strange that Chloe hadn’t come out to greet him, but even after being informed of his arrival, she still didn’t show her face.
This was something the Chloe Patrasche knew would never do.
Aileen, sensing something amiss as well, shot a sharp glare at the elderly butler who had delivered the message. The old man always put her in a foul mood.
“Did Chloe really say that?”