Chapter 112
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 112
‘How amusing.’
Belladonna Merton might have received the title of Countess Orquichin, but that was all it was.
It didn't mean she was entitled to be treated as my superior.
Tulia was of the direct Frezier bloodline.
In contrast, Belladonna Merton held a mere honorary title with no actual estate, and her rank as Countess Orquichin was non-hereditary.
That was the Imperial Law of the Brillant Empire; it was the law of the land.
Above all, one couldn't ignore Belladonna Merton’s actual position as a ‘mistress.’
In other words, as long as Belladonna Merton hadn't secured my permission to speak otherwise, we were required to maintain mutual respect and use formal language.
And she was someone who knew this fact all too well.
‘So, she wants to put me in my place the moment she arrives?’
If I were to start with something like, “Wait a moment,” or “I’d appreciate it if you corrected your tone,” Belladonna would slither away like a snake.
She’d say something like:
“Oh my. Shall we formally discuss my manner of speech next time, then?”
Or:
“By the way, your eldest uncle is quite exhausted. I assume the room has been prepared in advance?”
Those were the kinds of responses I’d expect. That was the Belladonna Merton I had encountered countless times in the game.
A mistress with a formidable spirit who never backed down against any noblewoman in a battle of wits.
Moreover, she had Nigella and Sandra by her side, both ready and willing to take her part.
She probably felt she had nothing to fear.
But what if I were Tulia?
What if I were Han Ina?
Then the story changed.
I met the eyes of the beautiful woman who looked ready to parry whatever I said and gave her a sweet smile.
“It must have been a long journey. Thank you for coming all this way, Miss Belladonna.”
“…?!”
In the Brillant Empire, the title ‘Miss’ was often used between unmarried noble daughters who were on familiar terms.
The crucial point here was the ‘unmarried’ part.
For Belladonna Merton—who already had a child and, more importantly, was living in a common-law marriage with Great Count Nigella Frezier—it was a massive insult.
As a seasoned socialite, she never let those who insulted her with the title ‘Miss’ get away with it.
She was notorious behind the scenes for always exacting revenge, even if it meant borrowing the power of Great Count Nigella Frezier.
Yeah, well, this is my territory.
Sandra, her face turning beet red, shrieked.
“Sister Tulia! Why are you calling Mother that?!”
‘At least she isn’t completely brainless.’
Since I’d warned her last time not to speak informally to me, she was sticking to formal speech even while fuming with rage.
Of course, she was still a long way off from her mother, Belladonna Merton.
Belladonna, appearing accustomed to such insults, offered a sorrowful smile and soothed Sandra.
“Sandra, be quiet. Your mother is fine.”
“But Mother! Sister clearly made a mistake! Isn't that right, Father?!”
I assessed the situation quickly.
It seemed Belladonna Merton had built Nigella’s affection by positioning herself as someone fragile.
Furthermore, by simply soothing Sandra, she opened a path for Nigella to step in immediately.
As expected of a mistress who managed to kick out a high nobleman’s legitimate wife.
Of course, Nigella—the deranged adulterer who had kicked out his own wife—was on another level as well.
“Tulia Frezier. What is this insolence?”
Nigella admonished me, wrapping an arm around Belladonna’s shoulders as she leaned into him.
“She is now the Countess Orquichin. Do you not even know that a mere child like yourself cannot speak so casually to her?”
The fact that he couldn't bring himself to call her my ‘aunt’ suggested he had a microscopic shred of conscience left.
“Ah…”
I immediately clasped my hands and bowed my head.
“You’re right. I made a mistake, Uncle Nigella.”
“Tsk. This is what happens when there are no parents around to teach you.”
In an instant, rage surged up my spine like a boiling pot about to blow its lid.
At the same time:
“Pre…!”
Me, a direct descendant of Frezier, using honorifics for a mere mistress? Have you gone completely mad after all that adultery, Uncle Nigella?
A chill ran down my spine.
Those words hadn't just surfaced as a memory.
They weren't Tulia’s lines from The Milk Bread.
It was as if the words were about to tumble out of my mouth of their own accord, just like when I had the Personality Penalty.
The only difference was that although they rose to the back of my throat, I managed to suppress them with my reason.
But if I had slipped even slightly, they would have been broadcasted to the world.
‘…What was that?’
It was an incredible provocation.
For a moment, it felt as if I weren't Han Ina, but the real Tulia from The Milk Bread.
Just then, a hand quietly took mine.
It was Lisian.
His expression was calm and serene as usual, but his body temperature was incredibly low.
And his eyes, fixed straight on Nigella, were so beautiful and still that they were actually intimidating.
Realizing that Lisian was also furious at those words, I noticed something else.
‘Oh. I’m shaking.’
I realized my hands had been trembling for some time.
It wasn't a tremble of fear, but one of pure, unadulterated rage.
‘Why am I like this? It’s like I’ve really become Tulia.’
Leon Frezier had also grabbed my other hand at some point, but I lightly shook him off and quickly regained my composure.
“Then, Uncle Nigella.”
I began to speak politely, just as I had originally planned.
“Would you mind yielding Countess Orquichin to me for half a day?”
“Yielding her?”
Nigella, who had been scowling, raised an eyebrow as if he suddenly understood.
“Ah. If you intend to show Countess Orquichin to her room, I shall personally—”
“No, no.”
I spoke with a deep, lingering smile.
“I must take Countess Orquichin to see Grandfather.”
“…?!”
In that instant, I finally saw Belladonna Merton’s composure crumble.
Her expression betrayed that she never expected me to bring up Grandfather right then and there.
Nigella, of course, was even worse.
“…Why Father?! There is no need to report every single visit to a busy elder!”
“Report a visit? Uncle, you’ve misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood? Tulia Frezier! You dare to talk back to your elder again—”
“If Countess Orquichin intends to speak informally to me, a direct descendant of Frezier, then naturally, we must obtain Grandfather’s permission first.”
A beat late, Nigella seemed to grasp my meaning. His thick eyebrows twitched violently.
“Tulia Frezier.”
Nigella, tall and broad-shouldered as befit a man of the Frezier line, took a menacing step toward me.
If the twins hadn't reflexively stepped forward on either side of me, I might have flinched out of pure instinct.
“Uncle… Nigella.”
“There’s no harm in hearing Tulia out until the end, is there? It is a fact that the sovereignty over internal affairs in this Grand Duchy belongs to our sister.”
Nigella, who looked ready to snap my bones in half with his fury, glanced between the twins—who were already nearly as tall as he was—and stopped in his tracks, looking displeased.
Instead, he asked in a low voice.
“Tulia Frezier. Are you using Father to threaten your uncle right now?”
“Threaten? Are you suggesting, Uncle Nigella, that the position of Countess Orquichin ranks higher than the honor of Frezier?”
“Her Majesty the Empress personally appointed her to that position! It is not a name for a young lady like you to bandy about!”
“Exactly.”
I beamed, having waited for those very words.
“Since it’s not for me to bandy about, I’m saying I’ll get permission from Grandfather.”
“…!”
“After that, you’ll need to obtain approval through the Council of Elders.”
Nigella finally fell silent.
It seemed he had finally realized the scale I was willing to escalate this to and just how serious I was.
But it was short-lived.
Nigella opened his mouth again, his face twisted with wounded pride.
“Tul—”
“Sandra, would you tell me if there’s anything wrong with what I’ve said?”
Sandra, suddenly singled out, stared at me with wide eyes. She was visibly startled.
“Sandra? Your sister is asking you.”
She looked back and forth between Belladonna and Nigella, stammering in confusion.
“That… well…”
With her other hand, Sandra was frantically tugging at her mother’s sleeve.
“I made a mistake. I’ve been in the Imperial Capital for so long. Surely Lady Tulia will understand? After all, we are linked by the Great Count, aren't we?”
Finally, Belladonna Merton spoke up with a smile.
Though the corners of her mouth were turned up, the eyes glaring at me were nothing short of frigid.
Of course, Tulia’s heart was made of titanium, so it didn't even itch.
“Of course, Countess Orquichin.”
“Thank you, Lady Tulia.”
“Imperial etiquette must be as strict as Frezier’s. It’s a pity you couldn't have stayed there a bit longer.”
It was a sarcastic jab.
“I’ve been worried all day that the annex I prepared might pale in comparison to the Imperial palace, Countess Orquichin.”
Another sarcastic jab.
“…My, I’m grateful for your concern, Lady Tulia.”
I flashed that same ironclad smile at Nigella, whose face was flushing various shades of red and purple but who ultimately couldn't say a word. Then, I raised my hands.
Clap, clap.
As I clapped twice, the Assistant Butler immediately stepped forward.
“Lady Tulia.”
Ha.
I hadn't intended to go this far, but I might as well see it through to the end.
“Show the two members of Frezier and our ‘guest’ to their quarters.”
That was the final sarcastic blow.
How does it feel to be lashed by my sarcasm until your cheeks sting?
Belladonna’s lips trembled.
“Yes, Lady Tulia.”
“I will show you the way, Countess Orquichin.”
The servants moved in perfect unison.