“You loan sharks, did you take pity on me because I was a woman living alone?”
He thought she'd be really scared because a loan shark had been there, but surprisingly, she was fine.
Anyway, men. Cliff glanced at the mansion and then turned to face the horse he had come on.
His plan was to coax the terrified Judith into signing the papers appointing his father as the Count's deputy.
Even if he lent her 3,000 gold, there was little chance that Judith would ever repay her 200 million gold debt.
Then she would be taken to Smith, and Cliff's father, as acting Count, would be able to choose who would succeed to the earldom.
Who would he choose? Of course, it was his son Cliff. This plan would cost a huge sum of 3,000 gold, but it would be worth it if he could become a Count.
'So, it would be a problem if you got along too well, Miss Harrington.'
Cliff jumped onto the horse, handed the reins over to his servant, and gave orders.
“Go to the casino now and find Leon Harrington.”
“I think the person who arranged this wedding was Mr. Cliff. Sir Erne, didn’t you say that you kept in touch with Mr. Cliff?”
“If it’s Cliff, I know better.”
Erne answered, looking intently at the bottle of wine Judith had obtained from the Marchioness.
“He was a good guy.”
“Why?”
“He always paid for the drinks.”
What a good person, what a good person.
Judith had to resist the urge to slap Erne on the back.
“Mr. Cliff might have killed Sir Erne.”
It's annoying to see. Cliff might have wanted to kill you too, I think. There's a lot she wants to say, but Judith doesn't say it out loud.
“There’s something else I’m curious about.”
“What is it?”
“For some reason, this drink feels like it was drunk by someone else.”
That's because it's alcohol that someone drank.
“The entrance area here is a bit empty.”
Now I'm talking about how Mr. Cliff, who used to pay for drinks, might have killed him. Does that drink matter?
“You didn’t pick it up somewhere, did you?”
“Where can I find this expensive liquor?”
“So you took a sip?”
"...Yes."
Judith answered falsely without realizing it. She somehow felt that Erne would accept it if she said that she had taken a sip.
“Lies. Where did you pick that up?”
No, it doesn't.
“I received it.”
“Who did you get it from?”
“The Marchioness of Ferney.”
When Judith asked if she had any leftover alcohol, the Marchioness readily gave it to her. She said that it was alcohol that had been given to the Marquis as a gift, but it didn't suit his taste and was left in the warehouse.
“You can drink it because the source is clear.”
Erne stared at the ingredients Judith had taken out to cook as if he didn't hear what she was saying.
Gnarled sprouts, crusty bread, and stinky pork.
“Did the Marchioness give you this too?”
"Yes."
“The Marchioness treats you like a beggar.”
It was difficult to see the material condition as pure favor.
“Did you receive any favors?”
Erne's voice grew cold. Could it be that he was angry at me for being treated like a beggar?
He may have a bad personality, but he has a good heart...
“You asked me if I was the one who gave you the alcohol you had begged for to drink.”
How could that be? Judith wanted to snatch the bottle from Erne's hand, but she held herself back. Unfortunately, Erne was the superior in their relationship.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t drink it. Just drink it. Do you think alcohol costs a few pennies?”
Judith cut off the sprouted parts of the potatoes, peeled them, and placed them in cold water.
“Now, look. This is why it’s just like a normal potato. If you drain all the blood from pork and sprinkle a lot of spices on it, it won’t smell.”
“Does it matter now? The Marchioness treated you like a beggar? Doesn’t that hurt your pride?”
Judith's lips curled up at Erne's question.
“Oh, it’s because I have a bit of a flexible self-esteem.”
“...”
He's seen people with flexible joints and flexible beliefs, but this is the first time in his life he's seen someone with a flexible ego. Judith is even very proud of that fact.
“I’ve seen people with flexible self-esteem in my life. It was worth dying and coming back to life.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. How can you buy a loaf of bread with your pride?”
There is no pride in front of money. Judith lived with that single-minded belief. She said that she could not earn a living with pride. Pride is nothing in front of hunger.
“You're not going to get rich by saving a dime.”
He thought she'd be really scared because a loan shark had been there, but surprisingly, she was fine.
Anyway, men. Cliff glanced at the mansion and then turned to face the horse he had come on.
His plan was to coax the terrified Judith into signing the papers appointing his father as the Count's deputy.
Even if he lent her 3,000 gold, there was little chance that Judith would ever repay her 200 million gold debt.
Then she would be taken to Smith, and Cliff's father, as acting Count, would be able to choose who would succeed to the earldom.
Who would he choose? Of course, it was his son Cliff. This plan would cost a huge sum of 3,000 gold, but it would be worth it if he could become a Count.
'So, it would be a problem if you got along too well, Miss Harrington.'
Cliff jumped onto the horse, handed the reins over to his servant, and gave orders.
“Go to the casino now and find Leon Harrington.”
***
“I think the person who arranged this wedding was Mr. Cliff. Sir Erne, didn’t you say that you kept in touch with Mr. Cliff?”
“If it’s Cliff, I know better.”
Erne answered, looking intently at the bottle of wine Judith had obtained from the Marchioness.
“He was a good guy.”
“Why?”
“He always paid for the drinks.”
What a good person, what a good person.
Judith had to resist the urge to slap Erne on the back.
“Mr. Cliff might have killed Sir Erne.”
“So he could marry you and take the earldom?”
“Or maybe he was going to kill you, but then he thought of a way to get the earldom.”
“There’s something else I’m curious about.”
“What is it?”
“For some reason, this drink feels like it was drunk by someone else.”
That's because it's alcohol that someone drank.
“The entrance area here is a bit empty.”
Now I'm talking about how Mr. Cliff, who used to pay for drinks, might have killed him. Does that drink matter?
“You didn’t pick it up somewhere, did you?”
“Where can I find this expensive liquor?”
“So you took a sip?”
"...Yes."
Judith answered falsely without realizing it. She somehow felt that Erne would accept it if she said that she had taken a sip.
“Lies. Where did you pick that up?”
No, it doesn't.
“I received it.”
“Who did you get it from?”
“The Marchioness of Ferney.”
When Judith asked if she had any leftover alcohol, the Marchioness readily gave it to her. She said that it was alcohol that had been given to the Marquis as a gift, but it didn't suit his taste and was left in the warehouse.
“You can drink it because the source is clear.”
Erne stared at the ingredients Judith had taken out to cook as if he didn't hear what she was saying.
Gnarled sprouts, crusty bread, and stinky pork.
“Did the Marchioness give you this too?”
"Yes."
“The Marchioness treats you like a beggar.”
It was difficult to see the material condition as pure favor.
“Did you receive any favors?”
Erne's voice grew cold. Could it be that he was angry at me for being treated like a beggar?
He may have a bad personality, but he has a good heart...
“You asked me if I was the one who gave you the alcohol you had begged for to drink.”
How could that be? Judith wanted to snatch the bottle from Erne's hand, but she held herself back. Unfortunately, Erne was the superior in their relationship.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t drink it. Just drink it. Do you think alcohol costs a few pennies?”
Judith cut off the sprouted parts of the potatoes, peeled them, and placed them in cold water.
“Now, look. This is why it’s just like a normal potato. If you drain all the blood from pork and sprinkle a lot of spices on it, it won’t smell.”
“Does it matter now? The Marchioness treated you like a beggar? Doesn’t that hurt your pride?”
Judith's lips curled up at Erne's question.
“Oh, it’s because I have a bit of a flexible self-esteem.”
“...”
He's seen people with flexible joints and flexible beliefs, but this is the first time in his life he's seen someone with a flexible ego. Judith is even very proud of that fact.
“I’ve seen people with flexible self-esteem in my life. It was worth dying and coming back to life.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. How can you buy a loaf of bread with your pride?”
There is no pride in front of money. Judith lived with that single-minded belief. She said that she could not earn a living with pride. Pride is nothing in front of hunger.
“You're not going to get rich by saving a dime.”
“What a dream. You owe 200 million gold and yet you want to become rich.”
“Everyone wants to be rich. Not Sir Erne?”
Well, except when he was very young, he never thought of becoming rich. Maybe it was because he never went hungry after moving to the Count's residence in Rhineland.
No, not only rich, he never aspired to be anything. He became a knight when he was told to, and he went to war when he was told to. There was nothing else to do.
“What do you want to do with all that money? Are you going to wear gold on all ten fingers?”
Instead of answering, Erne asked a question.
“I’m just going to live comfortably and eat well.”
“Are you living in luxury?”
“What a peculiar word you use,” Erne asked back, and Judith exclaimed, “Oh no. There is no such thing as luxury here.”
“I want to live without being the envy of others.”
The life she wanted was simple: a house in her name, a horse, and a carriage.
Since she doesn't know how to pull a carriage, she'd need a coachman, and it would be nice to have a maid to help with the housework and keep her company.
It seemed like she could live there without being too greedy if she had a small commercial building in a suitable location that she could rent out as retirement funds.
“It’s so grandiose. It’s not modest at all.”
Erne, who was listening to Judith's plan, clicked his tongue and opened the bottle of wine. His tongue wanted to beg for the alcohol. Did Erne know that it had not even been five minutes since he had said he would never drink the wine she had begged for?
“I’m in a hurry so I have no choice but to drink this, but I won’t eat that.”
Tch, then starve. Judith pouted as she cooked pork stew. I won't give it to you until you come and beg for it.
But as she said before, their relationship was clearly one of superior and inferior, with Erne being superior and Judith being inferior. After Judith finished making the stew, she grabbed Erne's trouser leg and begged him, and in the end, Erne ate it out of kindness.
He grumbled that it was a favor, but after he took a bite, he ate it well. The first time is hard, and the second time is easy.
Judith planned to continue receiving food supplies from the kind Marchioness.
“The taste is also really so-so.”
What nonsense are you talking about, Sir, after emptying an entire bowl? Judith swallowed her words as she cleared away the empty bowl.
Sagrak-.
"Huh?"
What is that sound?
Square-.
Where is it coming from? Judith tilted her head.
"What's the matter?"
“Don’t you think you hear the sound of bugs crawling somewhere?”
"Not at all."
Did I hear it wrong? I heard it clearly.
"What's the matter?"
“Don’t you think you hear the sound of bugs crawling somewhere?”
"Not at all."
Did I hear it wrong? I heard it clearly.
Judith rubbed her ear as if it were itchy. Erne's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
"...No way."
That can't be it. It can't be. Because it can't be here.
“Have you been to all the places I was told to go?”
Erne asked Henry to investigate his own last movements, as he was pretending to be dead and could not go out to investigate.
“Yeah, I’m so tired from asking around here and there.”
Henry first went back to the inn where Erne had been staying.
After the Empress's rebellion was suppressed several years ago, Erne was forced to lose his knighthood and leave the imperial court.
Erne was also a knight of the Empress's palace and should have been executed, but he was able to avoid execution thanks to his meritorious deed of saving the current Empress.
Erne, who had been living in the Imperial Knights' quarters until then, was too lazy to find a place to live, so he stayed long-term in a guesthouse. And that guesthouse bed was Erne's last memory.
“Do you remember the innkeeper’s son? He looks to be about fifteen years old. I heard he often ran errands for you.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.”
“The kid said you said you had an appointment and were going out.”
Appointment? Erne searched his memory, but he couldn't even guess what kind of promise it was.
“So, you went to that bar you said you frequented.”
Erne took care of most of his accommodations at the inn, but he often went to the tavern to drink, because the liquor sold at the inn was of very low quality.
“What did the bar owner say?”
“I haven’t met him.”
"Why?"
“The owner of the bar died in a carriage accident a while ago. But I heard a strange story from an employee there.”
The employee said that one day, the bar owner's spending habits started to increase. Even though the store's sales actually decreased.
“Here’s my guess. Either the bar owner was paid to poison your drink, or someone witnessed him poisoning your drink and took the money.”
And then the criminal was killed while destroying evidence.
“Give me that potion.”
Erne reached out to Henry. Henry hesitated and took the truth potion out of his jacket pocket.
“Are you really going to use it?”
“Didn’t you buy it to use on that too?”
“But your wife seems to be the victim.”
Erne heard the story about the Potion of Truth from Henry and asked him to bring it to him so he could use it on Judith.
“I think so too, but I still need to make sure at least once before moving on.”
A small potion bottle gleamed in Erne's hand.
"...No way."
That can't be it. It can't be. Because it can't be here.
***
“Have you been to all the places I was told to go?”
Erne asked Henry to investigate his own last movements, as he was pretending to be dead and could not go out to investigate.
“Yeah, I’m so tired from asking around here and there.”
Henry first went back to the inn where Erne had been staying.
After the Empress's rebellion was suppressed several years ago, Erne was forced to lose his knighthood and leave the imperial court.
Erne was also a knight of the Empress's palace and should have been executed, but he was able to avoid execution thanks to his meritorious deed of saving the current Empress.
Erne, who had been living in the Imperial Knights' quarters until then, was too lazy to find a place to live, so he stayed long-term in a guesthouse. And that guesthouse bed was Erne's last memory.
“Do you remember the innkeeper’s son? He looks to be about fifteen years old. I heard he often ran errands for you.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.”
“The kid said you said you had an appointment and were going out.”
Appointment? Erne searched his memory, but he couldn't even guess what kind of promise it was.
“So, you went to that bar you said you frequented.”
Erne took care of most of his accommodations at the inn, but he often went to the tavern to drink, because the liquor sold at the inn was of very low quality.
“What did the bar owner say?”
“I haven’t met him.”
"Why?"
“The owner of the bar died in a carriage accident a while ago. But I heard a strange story from an employee there.”
The employee said that one day, the bar owner's spending habits started to increase. Even though the store's sales actually decreased.
“Here’s my guess. Either the bar owner was paid to poison your drink, or someone witnessed him poisoning your drink and took the money.”
And then the criminal was killed while destroying evidence.
“Give me that potion.”
Erne reached out to Henry. Henry hesitated and took the truth potion out of his jacket pocket.
“Are you really going to use it?”
“Didn’t you buy it to use on that too?”
“But your wife seems to be the victim.”
Erne heard the story about the Potion of Truth from Henry and asked him to bring it to him so he could use it on Judith.
“I think so too, but I still need to make sure at least once before moving on.”
A small potion bottle gleamed in Erne's hand.
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Wow. He is an asshole. He really made her buy him some alcohol, and she has to lower herself and beg him to eat properly. Urgh.
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