Chapter 3

More than ten years had passed.

Contrary to everyone’s expectations, Lady Saint-Fleur never lost the King’s favor.

Instead, she remained the King’s infamous mistress longer than anyone before her.

Damien Lambert had also become the King’s most favored son.

Even more favored than the legitimate princes.

Although he was still an illegitimate child, the King had officially recognized him through a royal decree, and even the Pope had approved his status.

He could never inherit the throne, but he was treated exceptionally well.

He had even recently been granted the title of Duke.

“…Duke of Bellombre.”

Damien looked indifferently at his new title.

It seemed…

It would be quite useful.

“Hey, Damien!”

A lively knock interrupted his solitude.

“Are you in your study?”

It was Olivier Rochemont.

Since childhood, he had been Damien’s closest friend.

He was also a lawyer Damien trusted completely.

“The transfer of ownership for Bellefontaine has been finalized.”

Olivier announced cheerfully.

“You’ve gained another estate on top of your already enormous wealth. Congratulations.”

Damien merely shrugged.

“But why Bellefontaine?”

Already accustomed to Damien’s cold attitude, Olivier casually sat down in an armchair.

“It’s out in the countryside.”

“I just wanted it.”

Damien answered as though that explained everything.

Naturally, Olivier didn’t understand.

“Do you think it’s a good investment?”

“Oh, it’s definitely valuable.”

A cold smile spread across Damien’s face.

There was something chilling about it.

“Well… whatever you say.”

Like a loyal lawyer deciding not to question his client any further, Olivier raised both hands in surrender.

“But there’s one problem.”

He pulled out another document and handed it over.

“There’s a small manor on the Bellefontaine estate.”

It was a map.

A small manor was marked near the foot of a mountain, quite far from the town center.

“It seems it’s been rented out for years.”

“I assumed as much.”

“I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Olivier continued awkwardly.

“The tenant, a fallen nobleman, died last year.”

He flipped through the documents.

“The previous owner rented it to him below market price because his circumstances were so difficult.”

He continued reading.

“Then he suddenly died, leaving behind only two daughters.”

“So?”

“They’re both unmarried young women.”

Olivier explained.

“So the previous owner felt sorry for them.”

“He didn’t charge them rent for an entire year and didn’t evict them.”

He waited for a reaction.

Damien didn’t move a muscle.

“Now you’re the owner of Bellefontaine.”

Unable to guess what Damien was thinking, Olivier spoke frankly.

“You can charge the proper rent now.”

“And if they can’t pay…”

“You can simply evict them.”

Damien fell silent for a moment.

“…Sir Arthur Cornille, wasn’t it?”

He suddenly asked.

“…Wasn’t he known as Count Montauban?”

“Oh? You knew?”

Olivier blinked in surprise.

“That’s right.”

“Count Montauban died after losing almost all of his wealth.”

He tapped the bottom of the documents.

“He left behind two daughters.”

“Clementine Cornille and Hilde Cornille.”

Clementine Cornille.

It had been a very long time since Damien had silently repeated that name.

“…Count Montauban is the same man, isn’t he?”

Olivier asked cautiously.

“The one who opposed the King’s order to officially recognize you as His Majesty’s illegitimate son?”

“That’s right.”

Damien answered simply.

“He looked down on me as a bastard who disgraced the sanctity of marriage.”

The wounds of his humiliating childhood had never truly healed.

“He had a noble excuse.”

Damien continued.

“But in reality, he hated my mother for political reasons.”

“In the end, he lost.”

Olivier said brightly.

“He fell into ruin.”

“He lost everything.”

“Even the soil of the Montauban estate no longer belongs to him.”

“That’s true.”

Damien quietly savored the feeling of victory within himself.

“So…”

Olivier asked again,

“What should we do about Count Montauban’s daughters?”

Damien remained silent for a while before answering.

“…I want to see them myself first.”

“Hmm? Personally?”

Olivier clearly didn’t like the idea.

“You don’t seem like the type to suddenly feel sympathy after seeing two poor young ladies.”

It was an accurate observation.

“Are you planning to throw them out to their faces?”

Olivier looked troubled.

“It won’t do your reputation any favors.”

“Not as the new lord.”

“And certainly not as the King’s acknowledged son.”

Damien said nothing.

“I’ll handle the unpleasant work.”

Olivier tried persuading him again.

“I’m your lawyer. You don’t need to get involved personally.”

“No.”

Damien shook his head.

“I want to see them with my own eyes.”

Realizing Damien couldn’t be persuaded, Olivier gave up.

The earth beneath Damien Lambert’s feet felt unfamiliar.

It was a quiet country village.

Small houses with low roofs stood close together beside narrow gravel roads.

“…How boring.”

It was far too peaceful for Damien’s taste.

“It’s beautiful.”

Olivier exclaimed happily.

“Look over there!”

“Beyond those rolling hills, the wheat fields stretch endlessly.”

“Does that make you want to start farming?”

Damien remained completely unimpressed.

“You’re the one who insisted on buying Bellefontaine.”

Olivier nudged him playfully.

Damien ignored him.

“Where exactly is the manor?”

He asked coldly, focused only on his purpose.

“Let’s see…”

Olivier pulled out the map from his coat pocket.

Children waved at them from a distance.

They seemed fascinated by the well-dressed strangers.

“I guess word has already spread that the new lord is visiting.”

Olivier smiled and waved back.

Damien, on the other hand, awkwardly turned his head away.

He disliked attention.

He knew from experience that unwanted attention always ended badly.

“…They’re probably curious about what the King’s illegitimate son looks like.”

He muttered coldly.

“Let’s go.”

They passed a marketplace displaying vegetables and cheese.

They walked past a stone fountain.

By the time the church bells began ringing…

They finally arrived at their destination.

The manor.

“The grounds are larger than I expected.”

Damien looked around.

The wind carried the scent of dry earth mixed with wildflowers.

“They’ve maintained it well.”

Olivier said with genuine admiration.

Though they were looking at the same place, they were clearly seeing very different things.

“Hmm…”

“Isn’t this usually the busiest time of day for servants?”

Olivier looked around.

“Why isn’t anyone here?”

It was a fair question.

The manor had a fairly large garden, yet not a single servant came out after noticing their arrival.

“Wait here.”

“I’ll look around.”

Olivier jumped off his horse and wandered off.

Left alone, Damien calmly examined the manor.

It carried the scent of decline.

And poverty.

Yet strangely…

Lily-of-the-valley flowers bloomed everywhere.

Their delicate fragrance seemed to gently cover the signs of hardship.

Damien looked down at them.

Small white blossoms hung like tiny bells, bowing quietly beneath drops of morning dew.

An unpleasant feeling rose inside him.

Something so beautiful…

Existing so freely without anything to do with him…

Irritated him.

The thought that anyone could enjoy such beauty scratched at his nerves.

Among all the flowers, Damien chose the straightest and most perfect bloom.

Rustle.

The flower rested in his hand.

A quiet smile spread across his face.

Then…

He mercilessly snapped its stem.

He liked the fate of the flower now that it belonged completely to him.

From this moment on, it would exist only in his hand.

And it would wither only when he allowed it to.

The arrogant satisfaction of destroying something perfect…

Of possessing it completely…

Raced hotly through his veins.

“…Excuse me.”

At that very moment…

A soft, delicate voice came from behind him.

It was as gentle as the flower he had just broken.

“…May I ask why you’ve come here?”

Damien’s heart…

The one that had once grown far too large…

Began beating once again.