The winter sun was unusually beautiful today. I'd heard the news of someone I'd hated, but my mood was as gloomy as the monsoon season, and I felt uneasy, as if I was wearing clothes soaked in rain.
“What was the condition of the body?”
My calm question cut through the silence. Milia, who had witnessed Erita's death with her own eyes, had a contorted face, as if suppressing nausea, and was as pale as a sheet of paper.
“Nowadays, as the number of starvation and deaths among the poor increases...”
After taking a few deep breaths, Milia continued speaking with a shudder.
“After she died of pneumonia in the early hours of the morning, starving camp prisoners... mutilated her body.”
This was due to drastic cuts in the budget for poorhouses and asylums in slum areas, all in the name of supporting the middle class. With the Great Depression, war, and winter all stacking up against it, the lower classes were the first to be eliminated. As I nodded, my thoughts drifting off with a dull sentiment, Milia handed me the documents.
“These are the last prescriptions, medical records, diagnoses, and death certificates.”
“What are the autopsy results?”
"The coroner will personally bring it tomorrow. And as you commanded, the Marchioness Rosalia Wales will be entering the palace soon. I will escort her to the Princess's chambers."
“Thank you, you worked hard. Let’s go back and rest this afternoon.”
“No. I’m worried that Baroness Maria might be uncomfortable since it’s her day off.”
"I'm more worried about giving Sir Millia a hard time. I don't have anything else scheduled, so Eileen, Ted, Henry, and the other maids are enough."
I smiled, taking Milia's hand. The rule for full-time maids is a one-week break after four weeks of work, but she stayed by my side for two months without a break, worried about my insomnia and stress. It would be impolite to refuse a superior's advances more than twice, so Milia bowed politely.
“Thank you. I’ll come tomorrow morning.”
Not long after Millia left, the Marchioness of Wales came to my room.
“Meet Princess Diana, the star of Medea.”
The Marchioness, wearing a purple cashmere coat and a mink scarf, greeted me with a fake smile.
I waved my hand to the maids and servants who were waiting, indicating that I wanted to have a closer conversation.
“Princess, why did you call me first?”
A smile settled over her face. It seemed I was seeking help, believing that my hostage had disappeared due to Erita's soldiers, and that resentment and suspicion would strain our relationship.
“Well, let’s stop with the useless greetings and introductions and get to the point.”
I sat with my legs crossed and nodded at the documents on the table. Sitting across from her, she picked up the report and carefully looked through it. It was quite amusing to watch her once relaxed face turn pale in the blink of an eye. She asked incredulously.
"The exact results will be out tomorrow. The Queen won't doubt me."
I sat with my legs crossed, cocking my nose haughtily. The Marchioness's amber eyes, seeing the smile on her lips, gradually turned a cloudy color.
"I've obtained a confession from a petty thief who shared Erita's room through the camp superintendent. This should solidify her alibi. It's up to me to determine who ordered the murder of her while she was bedridden."
"You're now in my clutches," I said, my expression scornful. The Marchioness crumpled the papers in her hand. A sharp voice followed.
“Are you trying to put the blame on me?”
"It was a slanderous plot to drive a wedge between Her Majesty the Queen and me. Sounds plausible. Even cutting off her finger was at your order. There must have been an intention to send Noah to the front lines."
With a faint chuckle, I lifted the crystal glass filled with wine. Beyond the clear glass, I could see her staring at me, my lips twisted into a smirk. I swirled my glass around and continued speaking.
"Rosalia, you were planning to use this opportunity to eliminate me, weren't you? To eradicate Noah's foolishness and send him back to Frogen. I haven't shown it outwardly, but I've done much to survive. Her Majesty the Queen is a very rational person, and she doesn't dismiss valuable talent based on personal feelings."
Because if you do nothing, nothing will change. This is something I've felt deeply since coming to this world.
As soon as I finished speaking, her red lips, contrasting with her pale face, twisted. It was obvious she'd thought so. I would have felt the same way, too.
"I want to kill the Princess? I don't understand what answer you want from me. I clearly told you I would help the princess."
The Marchioness asked in a calm tone. It was almost as if she was resenting what was happening to her. I offered her my glass and offered a toast. She clinked her glasses reluctantly, seemingly waiting for my answer.
“We want a trustworthy transaction where both parties benefit.”
“What kind of deal are you talking about?”
"First, let me tell you a difficult and boring story. I think it would be best for us to be honest with each other."
I leaned back lazily on the sofa, turned my head, and looked out the window. Slowly, I opened my mouth, recalling the experiences I'd had in this world, the pain and suffering stemming from both gains and losses.
"For me, the law of equivalent exchange has always been true. For every gain, there's a loss, and conversely, for every loss, there's a gain."
The Marchioness shook her head with a gloomy expression.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
"Everything happens for a reason. No, it's more like a cause. I tried to do nothing and be normal, and absurdity and loss came to me. I ignored the death of the person who had ignored me, and I, too, faced the threat of death."
I pointed to the highest honor worn by royalty and prime ministers on my chest.
"Now, as a reward for becoming royalty, I've had to divorce my husband. Even though she's a sinner, I've driven Erita into the abyss, and now I'm back in karma with my husband's participation in the war. I thought it was truly unfair, but upon further reflection, it's a perfectly fair chain of events. I have no right to judge anyone. Regardless of the subject's morality, the strict standards of equivalent exchange and karma apply."
Losing my parents and acquiring a vast fortune, falling from a life of selfish wealth into this world of weakness, and surviving here only to lose my true identity and name were all part of this. I've been deeply engrossed in contemplating what I should give in exchange for his return, to avoid further retribution.
"Rosalia, I want to break free from this shackle. I intend to escape, ultimately. To do so, you joined hands with Emperor Frogen's illegitimate son, Mastiff. I understand your feelings."
The Marchioness, who had been listening to me, drank down her wine as if to quench her thirst. Her lips, which had always held a false smile, drew a straight line and finally revealed her true feelings.
“Yes, I too, lived in the same way, trapped in a bondage I couldn’t escape, struggling.”
"Yes, I finally feel true empathy. I realized that the ordinary life I longed for was beyond the reach of ordinary people, something beyond my reach."
The Marchioness, her guard slightly relaxed, her tense shoulders slumped. A strange light flashed across her large, round, amber eyes, as if she believed everything was going her way.
"Princess, are you thinking of going to Frogen? As I told you before, I can help you. Frogen's illegitimate son also wishes to do so."
“Even if saving Noah’s life is the priority, ultimately, I have no intention of running away with Frogen.”
I soothingly stroked the back of her hand, which furrowed her brow gravely. Then, I stood up and led her to the safe located deep within the room. The Marchioness's eyes widened as she followed me into the vault, which was filled with banknotes, gold bars, and jewels.
"Her Majesty the Queen and I are also excellent partners. We have joined hands in a transactional relationship that seeks mutual benefit."
I handed her a certificate of deposit issued by the Kelheit Bank of the Kappel Federation. The Marchioness of Wales lowered her gaze and unfolded the certificate in her hand. Even if she didn't know Yiddish (an ancient language used as a code by a small number of tycoons and financiers), she could read the numbers and currency symbols. Her shoulders trembled as she saw the enormous sum written on a single bearer certificate.
“Where did all this money come from..."
The lingering trembling in the voice asking the question was still there.
I was wearing the relaxed smile of someone who possessed absolute superiority. It was a mocking smile, a smile that suggested no one could surpass me and that nothing mattered.
"This is the ability that Her Majesty the Queen has recognized in me: the foresight to read the flow of the world."
Countless failures have brought me to a new realization: in a world without magic or miracles, without justice, law, or hard work, all I have to wield is the money and power I received in exchange for losing so much. These were the things that helped me most in my life, destroying or exacting revenge on others. In today's world, they're even more advantageous.
The Marchioness of Wales's eyes darted left and right, as if measuring the length of a dollar bill. Her slender chin, checked repeatedly, nodded slightly. Her eyes, previously fixed on the deposit slip, turned toward me with a questioning look.
“...How did you do it?”
"It's been quite a while. I invested the money I earned in textiles and steel, and bought foreign exchange and gold, making huge profits from price fluctuations. Based on this success, I proposed an investment to the Queen, and she gave me the capital to manage it. For some, war can be a chance to make a fortune."
Accumulating capital using knowledge and information. It was one of the methods that could be freely utilized by adhering to the law of equivalent exchange. I watched her confusion as she looked around the vault with a look of utter disbelief on her face, and then calmly added.
"In this capitalist age, material possessions are more important than lineage and title, aren't they? Just as a wealthy Baron holds a higher social status than a bankrupt Count. If you do well, you and your children will inherit wealth, honor, and freedom for generations to come. Of course, if you cooperate with me."
The Marchioness of Wales blinked. Her long eyelashes moved busily, as if she were internally tapping away on a calculator. I tried to convince her that she was holding onto a rotten rope.
"Frogen is doomed. Excessive inflation is threatening economic collapse in the near future. I'll bet the amount on this certificate of deposit as proof of my claim. Frogen's illegitimate son, who will be crowned leader in place of the Emperor, is merely a king on a chessboard."
A king on a chessboard who cannot think for himself and move.
The Marchioness of Wales's lips were slightly parted. She looked dazed, as if she'd been struck in the head, but she shook her head slightly, regaining her composure.
“How can you say that for sure?”
"The ability to make money is also the ability to steal it from others. This war is entangled with countless desires and plans. I intend to stop it by destroying its very foundation."
“Princess, I am so confused.”
The Marchioness sat, a seemingly insignificant ornament, lost in thought for a long time. She seemed to be contemplating her own situation if Frogen collapsed. "I've already been exposed as a pro-Frogen faction, so I won't be safe in Medea either." Her gaze, fixed on the deposit certificate, turned toward me, filled with question.
“...Please give me wisdom.”
Finally, realizing her position, her lips began to ask for help instead of offering it. I picked up a few gold bars and handed them to her.
"I have a purchase to make using this certificate of deposit on a certain date. Here, this gold bar is your payment. If you sell it in two months, it'll be worth quite a bit. I'll let you have fun with the information I'm giving you, so do as you please. However, it must be kept a secret between you and me. I'll only say it once, so remember it well."
Her face, still pale, was listening intently to the list I was reciting. She asked in a timid tone.
“If I betray you or fail to properly carry out your orders, Princess... and you know that I am the one who caused Ayla’s death, will you still trust me?”
"I told you earlier, didn't I? This world is ruled by cause and effect and karma. I'm not qualified to judge others, so I won't kill you with my own hands.' Nor will I kill the son you cherish. It's not a bad thing to witness the fate of those who make foolish choices."
I gave a very abstract answer. My eyes measured the depth of the silence that had crept in between us.
The Marchioness, who had finally given in to me, completely changed her attitude. She bowed and saluted, her face a reflection of a turning point in her life.
“I will follow your words, wise princess.”
Someone who has suffered from poverty and possesses ambition, someone who, trapped in desperate circumstances, acts without discerning between good and evil. That's the kind of person I needed.
Because you can use it as much as you want and then throw it away like trash.
“What was the condition of the body?”
My calm question cut through the silence. Milia, who had witnessed Erita's death with her own eyes, had a contorted face, as if suppressing nausea, and was as pale as a sheet of paper.
“Nowadays, as the number of starvation and deaths among the poor increases...”
After taking a few deep breaths, Milia continued speaking with a shudder.
“After she died of pneumonia in the early hours of the morning, starving camp prisoners... mutilated her body.”
This was due to drastic cuts in the budget for poorhouses and asylums in slum areas, all in the name of supporting the middle class. With the Great Depression, war, and winter all stacking up against it, the lower classes were the first to be eliminated. As I nodded, my thoughts drifting off with a dull sentiment, Milia handed me the documents.
“These are the last prescriptions, medical records, diagnoses, and death certificates.”
“What are the autopsy results?”
"The coroner will personally bring it tomorrow. And as you commanded, the Marchioness Rosalia Wales will be entering the palace soon. I will escort her to the Princess's chambers."
“Thank you, you worked hard. Let’s go back and rest this afternoon.”
“No. I’m worried that Baroness Maria might be uncomfortable since it’s her day off.”
"I'm more worried about giving Sir Millia a hard time. I don't have anything else scheduled, so Eileen, Ted, Henry, and the other maids are enough."
I smiled, taking Milia's hand. The rule for full-time maids is a one-week break after four weeks of work, but she stayed by my side for two months without a break, worried about my insomnia and stress. It would be impolite to refuse a superior's advances more than twice, so Milia bowed politely.
“Thank you. I’ll come tomorrow morning.”
Not long after Millia left, the Marchioness of Wales came to my room.
“Meet Princess Diana, the star of Medea.”
The Marchioness, wearing a purple cashmere coat and a mink scarf, greeted me with a fake smile.
I waved my hand to the maids and servants who were waiting, indicating that I wanted to have a closer conversation.
“Princess, why did you call me first?”
A smile settled over her face. It seemed I was seeking help, believing that my hostage had disappeared due to Erita's soldiers, and that resentment and suspicion would strain our relationship.
“Well, let’s stop with the useless greetings and introductions and get to the point.”
I sat with my legs crossed and nodded at the documents on the table. Sitting across from her, she picked up the report and carefully looked through it. It was quite amusing to watch her once relaxed face turn pale in the blink of an eye. She asked incredulously.
“Suspected strangulation? Isn't she dead?”
I sat with my legs crossed, cocking my nose haughtily. The Marchioness's amber eyes, seeing the smile on her lips, gradually turned a cloudy color.
"I've obtained a confession from a petty thief who shared Erita's room through the camp superintendent. This should solidify her alibi. It's up to me to determine who ordered the murder of her while she was bedridden."
"You're now in my clutches," I said, my expression scornful. The Marchioness crumpled the papers in her hand. A sharp voice followed.
“Are you trying to put the blame on me?”
"It was a slanderous plot to drive a wedge between Her Majesty the Queen and me. Sounds plausible. Even cutting off her finger was at your order. There must have been an intention to send Noah to the front lines."
With a faint chuckle, I lifted the crystal glass filled with wine. Beyond the clear glass, I could see her staring at me, my lips twisted into a smirk. I swirled my glass around and continued speaking.
"Rosalia, you were planning to use this opportunity to eliminate me, weren't you? To eradicate Noah's foolishness and send him back to Frogen. I haven't shown it outwardly, but I've done much to survive. Her Majesty the Queen is a very rational person, and she doesn't dismiss valuable talent based on personal feelings."
Because if you do nothing, nothing will change. This is something I've felt deeply since coming to this world.
As soon as I finished speaking, her red lips, contrasting with her pale face, twisted. It was obvious she'd thought so. I would have felt the same way, too.
"I want to kill the Princess? I don't understand what answer you want from me. I clearly told you I would help the princess."
The Marchioness asked in a calm tone. It was almost as if she was resenting what was happening to her. I offered her my glass and offered a toast. She clinked her glasses reluctantly, seemingly waiting for my answer.
“We want a trustworthy transaction where both parties benefit.”
“What kind of deal are you talking about?”
"First, let me tell you a difficult and boring story. I think it would be best for us to be honest with each other."
I leaned back lazily on the sofa, turned my head, and looked out the window. Slowly, I opened my mouth, recalling the experiences I'd had in this world, the pain and suffering stemming from both gains and losses.
"For me, the law of equivalent exchange has always been true. For every gain, there's a loss, and conversely, for every loss, there's a gain."
The Marchioness shook her head with a gloomy expression.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
"Everything happens for a reason. No, it's more like a cause. I tried to do nothing and be normal, and absurdity and loss came to me. I ignored the death of the person who had ignored me, and I, too, faced the threat of death."
I pointed to the highest honor worn by royalty and prime ministers on my chest.
"Now, as a reward for becoming royalty, I've had to divorce my husband. Even though she's a sinner, I've driven Erita into the abyss, and now I'm back in karma with my husband's participation in the war. I thought it was truly unfair, but upon further reflection, it's a perfectly fair chain of events. I have no right to judge anyone. Regardless of the subject's morality, the strict standards of equivalent exchange and karma apply."
Losing my parents and acquiring a vast fortune, falling from a life of selfish wealth into this world of weakness, and surviving here only to lose my true identity and name were all part of this. I've been deeply engrossed in contemplating what I should give in exchange for his return, to avoid further retribution.
"Rosalia, I want to break free from this shackle. I intend to escape, ultimately. To do so, you joined hands with Emperor Frogen's illegitimate son, Mastiff. I understand your feelings."
The Marchioness, who had been listening to me, drank down her wine as if to quench her thirst. Her lips, which had always held a false smile, drew a straight line and finally revealed her true feelings.
“Yes, I too, lived in the same way, trapped in a bondage I couldn’t escape, struggling.”
"Yes, I finally feel true empathy. I realized that the ordinary life I longed for was beyond the reach of ordinary people, something beyond my reach."
The Marchioness, her guard slightly relaxed, her tense shoulders slumped. A strange light flashed across her large, round, amber eyes, as if she believed everything was going her way.
"Princess, are you thinking of going to Frogen? As I told you before, I can help you. Frogen's illegitimate son also wishes to do so."
“Even if saving Noah’s life is the priority, ultimately, I have no intention of running away with Frogen.”
I soothingly stroked the back of her hand, which furrowed her brow gravely. Then, I stood up and led her to the safe located deep within the room. The Marchioness's eyes widened as she followed me into the vault, which was filled with banknotes, gold bars, and jewels.
"Her Majesty the Queen and I are also excellent partners. We have joined hands in a transactional relationship that seeks mutual benefit."
I handed her a certificate of deposit issued by the Kelheit Bank of the Kappel Federation. The Marchioness of Wales lowered her gaze and unfolded the certificate in her hand. Even if she didn't know Yiddish (an ancient language used as a code by a small number of tycoons and financiers), she could read the numbers and currency symbols. Her shoulders trembled as she saw the enormous sum written on a single bearer certificate.
“Where did all this money come from..."
The lingering trembling in the voice asking the question was still there.
I was wearing the relaxed smile of someone who possessed absolute superiority. It was a mocking smile, a smile that suggested no one could surpass me and that nothing mattered.
"This is the ability that Her Majesty the Queen has recognized in me: the foresight to read the flow of the world."
Countless failures have brought me to a new realization: in a world without magic or miracles, without justice, law, or hard work, all I have to wield is the money and power I received in exchange for losing so much. These were the things that helped me most in my life, destroying or exacting revenge on others. In today's world, they're even more advantageous.
The Marchioness of Wales's eyes darted left and right, as if measuring the length of a dollar bill. Her slender chin, checked repeatedly, nodded slightly. Her eyes, previously fixed on the deposit slip, turned toward me with a questioning look.
“...How did you do it?”
"It's been quite a while. I invested the money I earned in textiles and steel, and bought foreign exchange and gold, making huge profits from price fluctuations. Based on this success, I proposed an investment to the Queen, and she gave me the capital to manage it. For some, war can be a chance to make a fortune."
Accumulating capital using knowledge and information. It was one of the methods that could be freely utilized by adhering to the law of equivalent exchange. I watched her confusion as she looked around the vault with a look of utter disbelief on her face, and then calmly added.
"In this capitalist age, material possessions are more important than lineage and title, aren't they? Just as a wealthy Baron holds a higher social status than a bankrupt Count. If you do well, you and your children will inherit wealth, honor, and freedom for generations to come. Of course, if you cooperate with me."
The Marchioness of Wales blinked. Her long eyelashes moved busily, as if she were internally tapping away on a calculator. I tried to convince her that she was holding onto a rotten rope.
"Frogen is doomed. Excessive inflation is threatening economic collapse in the near future. I'll bet the amount on this certificate of deposit as proof of my claim. Frogen's illegitimate son, who will be crowned leader in place of the Emperor, is merely a king on a chessboard."
A king on a chessboard who cannot think for himself and move.
The Marchioness of Wales's lips were slightly parted. She looked dazed, as if she'd been struck in the head, but she shook her head slightly, regaining her composure.
“How can you say that for sure?”
"The ability to make money is also the ability to steal it from others. This war is entangled with countless desires and plans. I intend to stop it by destroying its very foundation."
“Princess, I am so confused.”
The Marchioness sat, a seemingly insignificant ornament, lost in thought for a long time. She seemed to be contemplating her own situation if Frogen collapsed. "I've already been exposed as a pro-Frogen faction, so I won't be safe in Medea either." Her gaze, fixed on the deposit certificate, turned toward me, filled with question.
“...Please give me wisdom.”
Finally, realizing her position, her lips began to ask for help instead of offering it. I picked up a few gold bars and handed them to her.
"I have a purchase to make using this certificate of deposit on a certain date. Here, this gold bar is your payment. If you sell it in two months, it'll be worth quite a bit. I'll let you have fun with the information I'm giving you, so do as you please. However, it must be kept a secret between you and me. I'll only say it once, so remember it well."
Her face, still pale, was listening intently to the list I was reciting. She asked in a timid tone.
“If I betray you or fail to properly carry out your orders, Princess... and you know that I am the one who caused Ayla’s death, will you still trust me?”
"I told you earlier, didn't I? This world is ruled by cause and effect and karma. I'm not qualified to judge others, so I won't kill you with my own hands.' Nor will I kill the son you cherish. It's not a bad thing to witness the fate of those who make foolish choices."
I gave a very abstract answer. My eyes measured the depth of the silence that had crept in between us.
The Marchioness, who had finally given in to me, completely changed her attitude. She bowed and saluted, her face a reflection of a turning point in her life.
“I will follow your words, wise princess.”
Someone who has suffered from poverty and possesses ambition, someone who, trapped in desperate circumstances, acts without discerning between good and evil. That's the kind of person I needed.
Because you can use it as much as you want and then throw it away like trash.
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