Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Door
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“Ian’s not feeling well?”
“Yes, my lord Count. He’s been complaining of a stomachache since morning and has stayed in bed all day.”
The Bratz Count frowned as he fastened his cufflinks. He had sensed something off in the dining room’s atmosphere from breakfast. The servants had kept glancing at their food oddly.
The Count mistook it for the servants hesitating to report. In truth, it was because Ian had skipped meals, leaving everyone starving.
“The doctor?”
His tone betrayed more worry about a flaw in the peace offering tribute than genuine concern for his son’s health. The butler nodded in relief.
“The doctor just finished examining him. It’s nothing serious. Seems like stress-related. He said to monitor him today and tomorrow and prepare some medicine.”
“Is he faking it?”
“Well, he has been pushing himself lately. And he’s always been frail, hasn’t he?”
To think that scrawny body, which seemed like it would blow away in the wind, had been darting around everywhere. It was hard to believe it was the same boy who first arrived at the estate. Derga snorted in response.
“I heard there was a commotion at the main gate yesterday.”
“Yes, my lord Count. Shall I prepare punishments?”
“Punishments? No. Just keep the doctor on hand and make sure he takes good care of his health. That fool who’ll cross the border soon still doesn’t know all his lingering attachments are just baggage. Tsk tsk.”
Did he not realize that everything entangling him now was nothing but shackles?
It worked out perfectly. He’d been growing annoyed at having to keep the child tethered with just his mother. Phlia, the mother, had gone quiet lately for some reason.
She no longer clamored to see the child like before, and Ian no longer asked about her as he used to.
‘Compared to those early days when he wailed for his mother, it’s clear. His emotions are dulling bit by bit.’
On top of that, Ian had been meeting privately with Molin two or three times a week. The old man clearly had hidden intentions, yet Broche always came out clean.
At this point, suspicion crept in that some scheme was ensnaring him. Like an instinctive sharpened sense.
“What was his name again? Eric?”
“Berik, my lord Count.”
“If Ian wants to meet him, let him. And accommodate him as much as possible. He’s an orphan, right?”
He picked up the handwriting sample letter the tutor had brought last night. Even a passing dog could see it was the scrawl of an illiterate. It got neater toward the bottom, but...
Derga muttered with a furrowed brow.
“There’s a saying: losing a lover is like losing your heart, losing a friend is like losing your lungs.”
The feet were bound with the rope called mother, so now it was time to bind the wrists with something called friendship. For the remaining month and a half, even after the fool crossed the border, everything needed to be firmly prepared to ensure he sacrificed his life for House Bratz.
“Teach Ian how to breathe. I’m curious how much strength a friend can provide.”
That way, when the noose tightened later, the pain and fear would double back. The butler bowed at Derga’s command.
“There won’t be any issues with estate management, will there?”
“Of course not.”
“Butler, I trust you greatly.”
“I won’t disappoint your faith.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
Tap.
The butler left. Derga lit the candle on the wax holder. As the red wax inside slowly melted, he opened the drawer.
Slide.
He reached in familiarly. He felt the round groove. He twisted the diamond ring on his index finger and pushed it inside.
Click.
A clear sound followed, and another secret drawer opened. It looked unremarkable from the outside, but electricity coursed through the inside. Poke around blindly, and you’d end up as an electrocuted roast right there.
Like the fake key he’d given the butler, for instance.
‘This butler’s lasted quite a while, at least.’
Long ago—very long ago—one butler had been found dead in Derga’s office. It was the Bratz family rat trap, passed down for generations, that had worked perfectly. Suspected of colluding with the Cheonryeo Tribe, but the dead don’t speak.
‘Smarter than the previous one, so he might know.’
Derga hadn’t outright called it the seal storage, but he’d subtly let it be known that valuables were kept here. Hadn’t he even pulled out Broche in front of Ian?
Swoosh.
Derga poured wax over the letter envelope and lightly pressed the Bratz family seal. The vivid image of the tiger representing the house was imprinted.
* * *
Ian lay half-reclined in his cozy bed. He’d schemed to be left alone in the annex, but unexpectedly, the household had become even more attentive. Since the doctor’s visit, servants had paraded in with endless food, making the morning busier than usual.
“Haena? Are you outside?”
“Yes, young master.”
Ian confirmed Haena’s presence as he put on his jacket.
It was now 3 p.m. The estate servants had finished their late lunch and started cleaning the main building. A few remained downstairs, but this was the quietest time.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, young master.”
Ian planned to search the butler’s room with Haena’s help. She would keep watch, and if anyone approached, distract them.
“But... are you really giving me silver coins?”
Naturally, since it was risky, he’d promised rewards beyond food. With three central nobles in the same boat, silver coins were no issue.
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not worry—it’s just, I’m thinking about what to buy with the silver coins.”
Haena nimbly checked both sides of the corridor. No one. Ian descended downstairs as quietly as possible. Just as they turned the corner toward the less-trafficked back stairs—
“No way, that doesn’t make sense!”
“Of course not. You got scammed, kid. Ahaha!”
Voices echoed. The servants’ quarters door closed, and the sound faded, so it seemed momentary. Haena went down first and signaled it was clear with a circle.
“I’ll guard the back stairs. If anything happens, make a loud noise, so be careful.”
“Got it. Thanks—”
Clunk.
Ian paused as he turned the handle. Locked rooms were rare inside the estate. Even the Count’s bedroom was always open, as far as he knew—though guarded.
“It’s locked?”
“...It won’t open.”
Did the tutor face this too? He’d guessed from the glimpse that day it had failed. But to think it wouldn’t open at all. As Ian debated using mana, Haena gestured for him to step aside.
“Please wait a moment.”
Then she started picking the lock with a hairpin. Ian tilted his head skeptically. How could that...
Click.
“It opened?”
“Yes.”
Haena shook her hands as if it were nothing. Ian turned with wide-eyed shock, but she repinned her hair and smiled.
“Didn’t I tell you? I have a lot of siblings.”
“...And?”
“In a house with many siblings, doors lock and unlock constantly. It’s how they express complaints or pranks. This simple handle opens with a fork too.”
“It looks like talent to me.”
“If this is talent, all the neighborhood kids would lose their minds. Hurry on in.”
Haena knew she lived near the brothels but didn’t realize how it influenced her. Picking locks, passing secret messages, or swapping drinks—these were foreign to commoners.
Creak.
Ian entered the butler’s room first, leaving Haena behind. It was sparse: a bed, desk, and one wardrobe. So tidy it felt shabby.
“Hmm.”
Ian crossed the room briskly, scanning.
What? What did the tutor want from the butler?
He flung open the wardrobe. Keys hung on the wall inside—dozens bundled together. Likely all the estate’s keys.
Jingle—
Each labeled by use. First floor left utility room one, second utility room... Ian flipped through to the main building office bundle.
‘Here. Office, aide’s simple bedroom.’
And suddenly, a strange key sandwiched between. Blunt-ended like it had a bead. Unlabeled, and heavier than normal keys—different material.
Knock knock.
Then Haena urgently knocked from outside. Someone was coming upstairs. Ian opened the wardrobe’s bottom box. Miscellaneous papers, ID, and estate free transit pass inside.
Knock knock—!
More urgent now. Ian reluctantly closed the wardrobe and left the room. As the door shut, he locked eyes with a servant ascending the stairs.
“Young master Ian? Haena?”
“What brings you out? How’s your condition?”
Haena rolled her eyes slyly. Ian walked naturally in that direction, replying.
“Staying in bed all day felt stuffy. Just going for a short walk.”
“No! The doctor said absolutely no moving.”
The servants fussed, pushing Ian’s back, with Haena scurrying behind. They exchanged glances.
‘Did you find what you wanted?’
‘Not sure.’
Only the odd-shaped key and free transit pass stuck in his memory. No books, so if the tutor sought something, it was one of those two.
“If you don’t recover soon, we’ll get in trouble.”
“Haena, don’t bother young master Ian. Come on.”
“Hey, sisters! Wait—”
Bang!
The servants dragged Haena away after lecturing. The space quieted again. Ian sat by the window, staring at a flowerpot, lost in thought.
The blunt key, transit pass, and tutor. He’d have to probe subtly next lesson to learn what the tutor wanted.
‘Maybe the key doesn’t exist at all.’
Derga had just reached in for Broche without special actions. There might be a fingerprint-like mana device, but not something Derga would have in this era.
Then, a commotion outside the door.
Thud! Thud!
Footsteps echoing down the hall headed this way. Ian finally turned to look.
Derga? Maybe coming to rage about the feigned illness.
Thud!
Presence stopped at the door. Then fists pounded like they’d smash it.
Ian frowned, tilting his head.
“...Who is it?”
“That means I can come in, right?”
Recognizing the familiar voice, the door swung wide. Red hair and eyes visible through the gap.
“Howdy?”
Berik stood there, beaming with smug pride.