CBH 31

There was no awkwardness or fluttering excitement of newlyweds, not even the camaraderie that sometimes grew beyond that.

She hated Benjamin to the point of madness.

Benjamin seemed to feel much the same.

Otherwise, how could he possibly think of pushing a wife who hadn’t even properly entered society yet into its abyss as revenge for a single day’s outing?

This was not a marriage.

It was outright enmity.

Wesley, who had been tasting wines for the banquet with Helena, asked cautiously,

“My lady, are you all right? You don’t have to drink all of it…”

“I’m fine. Everything else is a mess—at least the liquor should be decent, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a mess…”

“If this isn’t a mess, what is? This wine is good. Put it on the list.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Pouring wine liberally into her glass, Helena once again sank into her thoughts.

‘After committing every wrong imaginable, what was he looking at me like that for—tearing up like that?’

That day, beneath the sweetly scented osmanthus tree that made the air dizzying—

Benjamin had worn a face she had never seen before.

A few strands of black hair, damp with sweat and disheveled, clung to his pale face.

His reddened eyes and trembling crimson pupils were strangely provocative. His full lips, quivering as he drew in hot breaths before finally pressing together in sorrow, conveyed his emotions to her more clearly than any eloquent speech.

Benjamin Ishpern had been hurt.

By her words that she hated him.

“The nerve of him…!”

After carefully choosing only the most detestable things to do, had he expected her to coo over him and praise him?

“I want to punch him in the philtrum about ten times until his gums go soft, then yank his front teeth right out.”

At her muttering, thick with specific resentment, Wesley—who was tidying up the rejected wine bottles some distance away—flinched.

He subtly rubbed his philtrum before retreating with the discarded bottles.

Left alone, Helena continued sipping her wine.

“This won’t do. If I drag this out, I’ll end up charged with murder before I expose that man’s secret and send him into ruin. Or at least assault.”

Even with her head spinning from drink, Helena calmly reorganized her plans.

1. First, successfully conclude the banquet.

2. Dig up Benjamin Ishpern’s secret.

3. And then discard Benjamin. Cruelly. Very, very cruelly.

“Haaah…”

Helena let out a long, boiling sigh.

‘A secret, that damned secret…’

Truthfully, there had been another reason she had searched the castle top to bottom under the pretext of cleaning.

If Benjamin was connected to a “subversive group,” there had to be evidence somewhere. That evidence was what she needed.

‘And yet, astonishingly, there’s absolutely nothing.’

Since she had found nothing searching the entire castle, it seemed she would now have to comb through the spaces Benjamin personally used.

That meant the bedroom where Helena was currently freeloading—and the studio filled with bizarre sculptures.

So far, however, all she had discovered there were dozens of socks. Inside out. Thoroughly united with dust.

‘I should properly investigate the studio… Sigh. I really don’t want to touch that place.’

Even in her tipsy state, the thought of rummaging alone among those grotesque monster sculptures made her shudder.

Helena pulled her knees up onto the chair and hugged them.

‘Is he not coming back again today?’

Ever since the day she told Benjamin she hated him, he hadn’t shown his face at the castle.

According to what Aaron had casually passed along, Benjamin was using the construction site at the frontier as an excuse and seemed to be lodging nearby.

“Well, it’s comfortable and nice without him around.”

Munching on the olives Wesley had left behind, Helena muttered,

“Not just comfortable—it’s nice because he’s not here. Oh yes, very nice.”

Except for one thing.

Having lost the sturdy weight of Benjamin’s solid back pressing reassuringly against her hand, Helena had lately been placing a heavy leather cushion beside her and slipping her hand under it to fall asleep.

But no matter how densely stuffed the cushion was, something felt missing.

“…Other than that, it’s perfect!”

Helena irritably spat out an olive pit.

‘But how long does he plan to keep this up? No matter what, he’ll lower his head and come back before the banquet, won’t he? It’s already going to be a disaster—if the master of the house isn’t even there…’

She briefly indulged in the fantasy of serving wine nonstop until every guest at the banquet drank themselves unconscious.

‘And anyone still standing at the end, I could just knock them out with a bottle.’

Of course, it was nonsense.

Burying her face in her knees, Helena muttered bleakly,

“…Ah, whatever. It’ll work out somehow.”

Ten days flew by in an instant.

Even concentrating solely on cleaning and repairing the first floor, the hired workers weren’t enough, so the count’s household had to borrow the hands of nearby villagers.

Even then, they were short on help and ended up enlisting the village children.

“Like this.”

Helena grabbed the end of a worn-out cloth and demonstrated how to unravel the threads.

Then she flung the filthy wad of string with all her strength so that it landed draped over a tree.

“When you’re done, just throw it anywhere!”

The children, who had initially been sitting demurely in front of the countess, widened their eyes.

Tearing something apart, dismantling it, then throwing it—

What child wouldn’t love that?

“Waaah!”

Soon, the delighted little ones were shrieking as they ripped at the cloth.

Watching them run wild, Helena laughed brightly.

“That’s it, work hard, little ones! When you’re done, I’ll give you sweets as a reward.”

The older children were scooping out the insides of pumpkins with large wooden spoons.

“Dig well,” Helena told them. “We’ll make sweets from the pumpkin flesh.”

Their hands yellowed from scraping pumpkins, the children shouted in unison,

“Yes, my lady!”

They were so adorable that even amidst the busyness and chaos, a smile came naturally to her face.

Helena looked over their cheeks, flushed red from the cold, and smiled fondly.

‘I want to take a bite out of each of those chubby cheeks. But as the countess, I can’t exactly do that.’

Wesley and Joe, who had initially been nothing but worried, seemed relieved after hearing the theme of the banquet.

At the edge of the banquet hall—now considerably cleaner except for the chandelier that still lay lowered due to a broken pulley—the two of them scrubbed old silverware while chatting.

“Halloween. I never would’ve thought of that.”

“Me neither. Her ladyship is truly amazing.”

Helena had decided the theme of the banquet would be Halloween.

Halloween had once been the culture of a clan of mages who lived in this land long ago.

They believed that in winter, when the sun’s power waned, monsters from the underworld would creep up to the surface.

So they made lanterns from common pumpkins to light the darkness, and shaped cookies like people to offer to passersby—so that monsters hiding among humans would fill their bellies with those instead of devouring real people.

Of course, after the gates to the underworld truly opened four hundred years ago and monsters poured out, it had become little more than a slightly eerie commemorative day.

According to Helena, in the capital they decorated banquet halls dimly during harvest season and enjoyed Halloween.

She had declared confidently:

‘A gloomy old castle like this? You couldn’t rent one even if you paid for it. Because there aren’t any. Anyway, this banquet will absolutely succeed!’

Joe’s gaze, diligently polishing silverware, remained fixed on Helena’s back.

“How can someone be that wonderful…?”

Seeing Joe’s enraptured look, Wesley clicked his tongue.

“You brat, is her ladyship your leader now? How disappointing. You used to follow me around when you were little.”

Recalling his dark past, Joe shot Wesley an unimpressed look.

“That was before you evolved into a hairy bear, Mr. Wesley.”

He was referring to Wesley’s appearance back when they were at the old estate.

Wesley flinched.

“What? A hairy bear…? Was I that bad?”

“Mr. Wesley, a servant represents the family even when off duty, so you must conduct yourself properly. Look at my adoptive father. Not once does he let himself slip.”

“Mm, Mr. Kurt is certainly worthy of respect.”

“Hehe.”

At the praise for the former head steward, Joe puffed out his shoulders proudly.