ILTDAMH | CHAPTER 29

Chapter 29

“She looked so unbearably cute when she was drunk.”

“Damn it! You should have told me sooner, you idiot. Who the hell tries to hide something like that when there’s nothing to hide?”

Daimond was practically foaming at the mouth, tearing into Hook and the servants after learning that the corpses found in the duke’s domain were the very women he had killed.

“But, Your Highness, I truly didn’t know for certain. It was… Her Majesty the Empress, who handled it.”

At Hook’s aggrieved expression, Daimond slammed his fist against the floor, muttering through clenched teeth.

“So Mother knows as well? Hah… Guess I’ll have to give up bringing any women in for a while. But what about that woman from the duke’s house? Why hasn’t there been any news about her?”

“She… she hasn’t left the duke’s estate for some time.”

“Harmon is on his way back to the capital, so the duke will move soon enough. Tch… And just when I needed Kaimon to be backing me. Anyway, if that woman steps out alone, you will tell me immediately. Understood?”

Does he not realize it’s all because of him?

Hook, watching Diamond complain as if none of this were his fault, forced out a reply.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Hook left the Crown Prince’s residence with a sigh, feeling the man slip further and further out of control.

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A few days later.

No matter how she tried, Diamond refused to see her. 

Frustrated, Luciane spoke to one of his attendants.

“Please tell His Highness the Crown Prince… that I know about his… women.”

When Diamond heard the message, curiosity—tinged with irritation—finally brought him to her.

“What exactly do you mean by that, my lady?”

He looked at her with clear annoyance.

“I mean… Duke Canoluf knows about Your Highness’s women.”

“What ‘women’ of mine? What are you even talking about?”

Seeing that Diamond truly seemed baffled, Luciane glanced around and lowered her voice.

“I’m saying… The ‘lord’ in the rumors spreading through the capital… is none other than the Crown Pri—kyaa!”

“Say that again. Who knows what about me?”

His sudden closeness and his gaze, like he might strangle her at any moment, terrified her—but she held her ground.

“I—I just said… Duke Canoluf and my younger sister both believe the man in those rumors is you, Your Highness.”

“Hah… And what’s this supposed to mean? Are you telling me the duke is the one who started this?”

That bastard… about to die, and he dares to weave such a scheme?

Fury surged through Daimond.

“I’m not sure about that… I only came to warn you to be careful.”

“My lady, you don’t actually believe that nonsense… Do you?”

When he searched her eyes, she nodded quickly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“O-of course not. The man I know would never do such a thing. I only thought… Perhaps the duke, finding rebellion difficult, was trying to tarnish your name. I was worried. But since my sister believes it, I feared he might speak carelessly somewhere and drag you into a scandal.”

Luciane’s eyes lingered on him with an almost sultry concern. 

Diamond felt irritation rise—but he forced it down, replacing it with a gentle smile.

“Thank you… for telling me. But tell me, my lady—does anyone else know about this?”

“M-my mother also knows… But don’t worry, Your Highness. None of us believes a word of it.”

“Good. And really… what would I have to gain from doing something like that? Viscount’s daughter, I truly appreciate your concern. I hear your household has been struggling lately… it pains me to see you like this. So, as thanks for today, I’d like to help you and your family.”

Though Luciane’s heart leapt at his words, she masked her joy with a solemn expression.

“There’s no need, Your Highness. I only came because I believe you would never do such a thing. I don’t need a reward.”

Ignoring her refusal, Diamond called to a servant.

“See to it that the lady receives three hundred gold coins.”

“Y-your Highness, I—”

I want your heart, not your gold.

“Go home and tend to your family first. When this matter is settled, I’ll come to you myself.”

It was as if he had read her very thoughts.

Lowering her head, Luciane replied,
“Truly… Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll be waiting for your word.”

She left with repeated bows, smiling sweetly back at him.

The moment the door closed, Diamond’s expression turned ice-cold.

He stared at the door for a long time before muttering,
“So… she knows too? Well, now I have a reason to meet that woman.”

***

Penelope could no longer bear to watch Lucianne pining away over the Crown Prince, lovesick and restless.

During a tea gathering, she decided to share what she had heard from Merciann about him.

Luciane’s face had lit up at her words, and she hurried outside without explanation.

Hours passed with no news. 

Penelope sat by the door of the viscount’s residence, gaze fixed anxiously on the entrance, her unease growing.

Everything was unfolding exactly as Mercian had predicted.

Before long, Luciane returned from the Imperial Palace.

“How did it go? Surely… the rumours about His Highness aren’t true, are they?”

Penelope rushed to meet her as soon as she stepped inside. 

Luciane gave a confident nod, as if the answer were obvious.

“Of course not, Mother. That woman, Mercian, has it all wrong. His Highness is nothing but kind. He even thanked me for telling him and gave me three hundred gold coins!”

A servant followed behind, setting down a heavy chest of coins before leaving. 

Penelope greeted him, then hurried to open the chest.

“Oh my—how could we be this lucky?!”

“Mother, the gold isn’t the point. His Highness told me that once this matter is over, he’ll send for me himself. If that happens… I might become the Crown Princess!”

“That would be wonderful indeed.”

Seeing Penelope’s radiant joy, Luciane turned toward the window, her expression tightening into resolve.

Mercian… You dare humiliate me, hiding behind the Duke’s name?

The Duke has less than two months to live—what will you do then?

Just wait.

Perhaps your precious husband’s life will end soon as well.

I will see you stripped of everything, drowning in tears of blood.

Luciane’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she imagined Mercian standing at the brink of ruin.

***

“As expected of you, my lord. To so neatly tie the Graford Duke’s hands like this…”

Unable to leave for his territory after Biseluk’s warning, Kaimon had been forced to remain in the capital.

Thanks to that, Cassel and his men scoured the ducal lands and uncovered exactly what they’d been searching for: the bodies of all the missing women.

“Identify as many as we can. Then see they’re all buried properly in the public cemetery.”

“Yes, my lord!”

When Cassel departed, Ruan moved to the window, gazing down. 

Below, the Imperial gardens bustled with activity, adorned for Prince Harmon’s upcoming wedding.

So… Harmon will be back soon.

He took a slow sip from his glass, wetting his throat.

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It had been a month since he’d ordered Cassel to stage ghostly apparitions in the duke’s domain—standing women drenched in blood under the cover of night.

At first, people dismissed them as drunken tales.

But as more and more eyewitnesses spoke up, the whispers gained weight. 

Within a month, the rumours had spread all the way to the capital.

And now… talk of missing women accompanied them.

Just as Ruan had planned, the rumours swelled until they reached the Imperial Court.

Many nobles already harboured grievances against Kaimon but dared not confront him openly. 

All Ruan had needed was to toss a single spark into their midst—they would fan it into flame themselves.

What he hadn’t expected… was the Crown Prince helping fan those flames.

Thanks to him, the corpses had been far easier to find. 

Of course, the prince had no idea that the women he’d killed had been disposed of by Kaimon himself.

But the damage was done. 

The only fact that mattered was this: the bodies of missing women from the capital had been found in the duke’s lands. 

That alone was enough to shackle him.

The Crown Prince would now be busy trying to quash the scandal. 

Which meant, for the time being, he wouldn’t be able to meddle with Prince Harmon.

All that remained was to see the prince’s marriage to the princess completed, solidifying his standing.

Officially, Ruan’s life was supposed to end in a month and a half.

If he could secure Harmon’s position before then, there would be little left for him to worry about—at least as long as the Crown Prince stayed quiet.

But the prince he knew would never stay quiet.

If only he would start a rebellion—then Ruan could use it as the perfect excuse to crush him completely.

Yes… he almost hoped for it.

Once the Crown Prince’s matter was resolved, Ruan would tell his wife the truth: That he was no longer a dying man.

That he would never let her go.

That’s their contract… had never truly existed.

A faint smile tugged at Ruan’s lips as a memory surfaced—Mercian’s face from a few nights ago, flushed with drink, pouting as she demanded to know why he treated her so well.

That round, soft face that looked as though it would burst if he touched it too roughly, those perpetually plush cheeks. 

And that kiss—sweet, yet edged with bitterness—that lingered in his mind.

She still didn’t seem to remember that night…

Her drunken state had been so unbearably endearing.

“Made me want to eat you right up.”

“Huh? Eat what, my lord? Are you planning on going hunting?”

Cassel, just stepping into the study, tilted his head at the remark. 

Ruan’s expression soured.

“Stop spouting nonsense and make sure Prince Harmon arrives safely.”

Who was the one spouting nonsense first?!

“Yes, my lord.”

Cassel swallowed his protest, offered a bow, and left the room.

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Duke Canoluf’s estate, Mercian’s chambers.

“Clea, what’s all this?”

Mercian, sipping tea at the table, looked up as Clea entered, her arms piled high with thick catalogues.

“In the ducal household, every New Year we replace all the curtains and bedding.”

Clea explained, setting the heavy stacks on the table.

“Really?” Every year? All of this?

But… Why only such dark colours?

Mercian’s gaze drifted to the sombre-toned curtains draped across her windows.

“Normally, the Duchess of Canoluf would oversee it herself, but this year, my lady, it’s for you to decide,” Clea continued, opening one of the catalogues and placing it before her.

“Me?”

“Of course. You are now the mistress of the duchy. The merchants will be here this afternoon, so please choose whatever suits your taste.”

Ah… yes, for now I am.

Mercian stared at the swatches and patterns spread before her, a hint of discomfort creasing her expression.

“Clea… yes, I’m technically the duchess right now, but in a month and a half, I’ll be leaving this place. Wouldn’t it be better to have my aunt choose, as always?”

“My lady, the madam has expressly ordered that this year you are to decide. And truthfully… we all hope you will.”

At that, Mercian let out a small, resigned sigh.

“All right then. I’ll choose this time. Just leave these here and go. I’ll take my time looking through them.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Clea bowed and slipped out of the room.

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By mid-January, the weather had turned even colder.

Mercian’s plans for independence, however, were moving along smoothly—steadily taking shape, piece by piece.

The savings she’d set aside from her living allowance had already grown to over a thousand gold coins.

Enough to buy a house and still live comfortably for a good while without worrying about money.

At least she’d be leaving in early March—by then, the weather wouldn’t be so cold.

Still… picking out curtains and bedding for the ducal estate?

The atmosphere here was so dark and heavy these days. 

Maybe this time, she could brighten the place up a bit.

Once Ruan and she were both gone, the estate would feel emptier than ever. 

Choosing warm, welcoming colours might be the better choice.

Flipping through the catalogue, Mercian began to choose with care, weighing each pattern and shade against the image she held in her mind of the duchy’s grand, echoing halls.