Chapter 199: What Matters More
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 199: What Matters More
I was fumbling for words, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
Perel, who was standing nearby, stepped forward smoothly.
“His Grace the Grand Duke has transferred the ownership of the hotel to Her Highness the Consort. All necessary measures have been taken to ensure that all future profits from the hotel will be credited to Her Highness’s personal assets.”
This hotel was mine?
“But this is the property of the Blenheim family.”
“Annette, did you not work day and night to transform this dilapidated castle into a hotel? It is only right that it belongs to you.”
Loik shrugged, adding that if it hadn't been for her, the place would have remained abandoned for several more years.
“But the renovations were all done using the family budget…”
“Everything owned by the Grand Ducal Household belongs to Annette anyway.”
“Then this should be considered a household asset as well,” I said, my face flushing with embarrassment.
Loik arched an eyebrow.
“That is different. Annette’s private property belongs solely to Annette.”
“Then does Loik have private property too?”
“My private property also belongs to Annette.”
“How does that even make sense?”
“You are my wife, so it is only natural, is it not?”
Faced with Loik’s stubborn insistence, I finally threw up my hands in defeat.
My own personal property.
This was the first time since coming to this world that I possessed something entirely my own.
The monthly allowance from the privy purse was more than enough, but strictly speaking, that was a maintenance fund for the Grand Duchess’s dignity—it wasn't truly my money.
I was receiving monthly royalties from the publication of Cecil’s Recipe, but that was a pittance compared to the 150,000 Danir I had vowed to one day pay Loik back.
Feeling a strange flutter in my chest, I ran my hand over the high-quality wood of the sign.
“Who made the sign?”
“I commissioned the illustrator you like,” Loik said, stealing a glance at my reaction.
“Morina?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I took the liberty of naming it myself… If you don’t like ‘Blois Hotel,’ you can change it to something else.”
“…I like it.”
I tightly grasped Loik’s hand as he watched me tentatively.
“I’m going to work really hard.”
To think he’d give me a whole hotel just because I’d done a bit of work. From now on, I would devote my entire being to Blenheim.
As I made my solemn vow with a serious face, Loik gently pulled my hand toward him.
“Don’t work too hard.”
He whispered tenderly, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
“This husband of yours is already feeling quite lonely because his wife cares for nothing but work.”
There were still workers standing right there.
Perel, who had overheard every word from behind us, squeezed his eyes shut.
“W-well then, we shall take our leave now.”
At Loik’s gaze, which seemed to ask why they hadn't left yet, Perel let out a strange noise and hurried the workers away.
My hotel.
Countless people would visit this place in the future. I would no longer be a stranger here; I would welcome guests as the owner.
With a peculiar sense of fulfillment, I stared at the sign glowing under the lights for a long time.
*
Late at night, a horse galloping wildly came to a halt in front of the square in Porcelain Village.
An aide, looking exhausted from the hurried ride, dismounted. It was the same aide who had reported to Loik earlier that day.
The knights on night watch were sitting around a campfire. Demich, who was munching on a meat skewer of questionable origin, recognized him.
“Hey!”
The aide bowed his head even as he gasped for breath.
“What is it? Did something happen at the castle?”
Perel, who had been sipping hot tea among the knights, asked with a tense expression. “What’s the matter?”
“Chief Aide, we have a problem,” the aide said, wetting his dry lips. “The Saintess’s party is crossing into Blenheim tomorrow.”
“Already?” Perel frowned. “That’s much faster than expected. I thought they would stay in Eonveld for at least two days.”
Demich, who had looked momentarily expectant, slumped his shoulders in disappointment.
“I thought it was something interesting…”
At his words, the knights all turned to look at Demich with pathetic expressions. When Norton called out his name as if scolding a superior, Demich grumbled.
“Can’t I even speak? You boring bastard.”
“The priest sent the list of requirements in advance…”
The aide pulled a letter from his coat and went through the points one by one.
“They want a welcoming crowd lined up for the Saintess’s entry tomorrow morning, a ceremony where all interested residents can participate, and they’ve requested that the Grand Ducal couple come out personally to receive the Saintess…”
“What are these lunatics talking about?”
Demich, who had been about to lie down, bolted upright.
“A fake saintess dares to ask for what? A welcoming crowd?”
“Sir Demich, your voice is too loud,” Perel cautioned, but Demich ignored him and raised his voice further.
“And who is receiving whom? There’s a limit to how shameless one can be!”
“They don’t know that Her Highness the Consort has manifested holy power.”
Thoroughly offended, Demich gulped down a drink—it was unclear if it was alcohol or juice.
Norton frowned and looked at the aide. “Are you saying they only just informed us to prepare all this?”
“They obviously did it on purpose,” the knights grumbled one after another.
“They’re planning to use it as an excuse to claim the Saintess was mistreated, aren't they?”
“Typical shady Capital people.”
The anxious aide looked at Perel. “Shouldn’t we inform His Grace the Grand Duke immediately?”
To receive the Saintess, it would be best for the Grand Ducal couple to return to the castle right away.
If the pilgrimage procession arrives early in the morning…!
The mere thought made his hair stand on end. As he paced restlessly, Perel glanced at the small house a short distance away and shook his head.
“His Grace has already retired to the bedroom.”
“What? But this is urgent…”
Shouldn’t we wake the Grand Duke and tell him?
Despite the aide’s desperate eyes, Perel remained firm.
“It would be madness to disturb His Grace right now.”
Perel patted the spot next to him, suggesting they tell him in the morning.
“You must be tired from the rush. Sit down and have a cup of tea.”
No, why is everyone so relaxed? Shouldn't we be making preparations ourselves?
As the aide grew increasingly frantic at Perel’s leisurely response, Demich snorted.
“Hey, Aide. Stop acting like a puppy that needs to go and sit down. Have some meat.”
If Perel said so, then that was that.
“Do you know why that guy is the Chief Aide?” Demich asked with a smirk.
The aide had always been curious about that. Among the aides, there were those with more experience and those older than Perel. Yet, Sir Perel was the only one the Grand Duke kept by his side.
“It’s because Perel knows exactly which line to stand in.”
Perel shot him a look that told him to stop talking nonsense.
“Standing in a line?” the aide asked, looking confused.
“You dense fellow, come here.”
Demich called the aide over, picked up a skewer stick, and began drawing in the dirt to explain.
“Who is the master you serve?”
“That would be His Grace the Grand Duke, of course.”
“Then who is the Grand Duke’s master?”
Johas, sitting nearby, quietly provided the answer.
“Her Highness the Consort.”
“Exactly.”
Demich drew circles repeatedly as if marking an important point.
“So, which is more important: Her Highness the Consort’s sleep, or the Saintess’s welcoming ceremony?”
The aide’s lips quivered. What if this caused a headache for the Grand Duke later?
“It will be fine,” Perel said, as if understanding the aide’s concern. “He never had any intention of giving the Saintess a warm welcome anyway.”
Perel shrugged, adding that the Grand Duke was not the type of person to fear the consequences.
“Do you get it now?” Demich tilted his chin up arrogantly. “But if it really bothers you, go ahead and wake the Grand Duke yourself.”
The aide swallowed hard. Thinking about it, nothing seemed more important in this situation than Her Highness’s sleep.
“I’ll have a cup too.”
In the end, the aide plopped down in front of the campfire.
“Still, shouldn't we take some measures?” Norton, who had been quiet, asked Demich.
Demich scratched his red beard, which stood out even in the firelight.
“Has the 9th Knight Division returned?”
The 9th Knight Division had been re-inspecting the Boundary Defense Stones in preparation for winter. It was a consideration by the Captain to ensure Tiern didn't run into Meisel.
Norton, realizing what Demich was thinking, furrowed his brow.
“A mad dog is the only answer for a fraud.”
Demich grinned. “If he hears the Saintess is here, he’ll ride all night to get back.”
Ultimately, Norton sent a Magic Messenger Bird to Tiern.
*
“Is passing the walls supposed to take this long?”
The protest of a priest in a white uniform echoed through the city gates.
The pilgrimage procession, stretching long before and after the carriage carrying Constine, had been stuck at the second wall for half an hour.
The Saintess’s entry into Blenheim was the most important event of this pilgrimage. Constine, who had been up since dawn to dress herself from head to toe, swallowed a tired sigh. The ornaments on her head pressed heavily against her temples.
I heard the Grand Duchess has gained quite a bit of public favor in the North.
She had expected some pushback, but she hadn't expected it to start right at the gates. However, she couldn't just wait like this forever.
Constine opened the carriage door herself and stepped out. When a problem arose, her stepping in was usually the solution. While some might engage in a power struggle with a priest, no one dared to face the Saintess herself without backing down.
“Is the permission still not granted?”
Constine pretended to ask the priest while stealing a glance at the blonde knight supervising the entry.