SMR | Chapter 169

~Chapter 169~

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure you can really handle it?”

“Of course! If I just deliver this… you’ll let me go, right?”

Albert’s jaw was trembling uncontrollably.

Cedric watched him with a faint smile. Since this was how things were bound to end, he wondered why this man had ever been so confident in the first place.

“I can’t make it as if nothing ever happened. I can try to smooth over the side effects of Anghelic, but what happened on that ship…”

“I’ll pay back every bit of the tax I evaded! Including the value-added tax—every last coin! And about the… the people who died…”

“You were very selective about choosing people with no families to compensate.”

Cedric took another sip of tea.

If he didn’t swallow it down like that, he felt his disgust would show on his face.

“How about this? Release the people who were trafficked, give them compensation, and donate to the temple so prayers can be offered for the dead.”

“Y-yes! That—that sounds good.”

“And make a substantial donation to the project developing the antidote for Anghelic. Then I might be able to reduce the fine you’ll owe the imperial family.”

“I’ll do everything you say!”

“One more thing.”

As the conditions kept piling up, Albert looked at him with anxious eyes. Cedric leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them.

“What did you promise Bella Listerwell?”

“Huh?”

“She wouldn’t have volunteered to defend you without demanding something in return.”

Seeing how Cedric seemed to know everything, Albert swallowed hard and confessed.

“F-five hundred thousand dirams…”

“I’ll handle the money. That’s not what I’m asking. Did you promise anything involving Harriet Listerwell?”

Albert’s eyes wavered for a split second. Cedric didn’t miss it.

“Listen carefully. If the name Harriet Listerwell comes out of your mouth, this entire deal is off.”

“W-what? Why…?!”

“Because she’s the one who recovered my father’s keepsake.”

Struck again at his weak point, Albert’s shoulders shook violently as he waved his hands in denial.

“I—I won’t say anything! Never! I swear!”

As Albert shook his head frantically, Gerard approached and handed him a document. Until that moment, Albert hadn’t even realized there was anyone else in the room besides Cedric.

“This is a written pledge stating you’ll carry out everything discussed. Sign it.”

“Huh?”

“What? Do I look like someone who believes verbal promises?”

“N-no, of course not… I’ll sign.”

Albert knew he was being dragged along by Cedric’s will, but he had no choice but to sign. Solving things with money was the cheapest way out.

Sweat dripping as his hand shook, he steadied the pen and finished signing. Then he stood up on unsteady legs.

Cedric watched him calmly and gave one final warning.

“You know this already, but there can’t be a second mistake. And make sure no one except Marquis Pascal knows that you delivered this letter.”

“Of course! I’ll go right away.”

With a pale face, Albert fled the reception room as if running for his life.

He was dying of curiosity about what could possibly be written in the letter—something even his father didn’t seem to know—but Cedric’s words about it being a test terrified him too much to dare open the envelope.

‘Think simply. I just have to deliver it. Just that!’

It might mean betraying his own father, but if it meant avoiding a return to prison, he was willing to do even worse.

* * *

Silvain, the Marquis of Pascal, was slightly annoyed by Albert’s unannounced visit, but he still allowed him in. It was too early to discard someone who might still be useful.

However, after reading the letter that the hollow-faced Albert handed over, any lingering sympathy vanished completely.

“So this letter was sent by your father?”

“Y-yes…!”

“Do you know what’s written inside?”

“N-no! I was only told to deliver it…”

“Is that so…?”

Silvain smiled vaguely and looked down at the letter again.

On the stationery faintly embossed with the seal of the Kailas ducal house, there was only a single line written.

> “Until next time.”

Along with it was a napkin from a café called Elshiz, with a date written on it:

1872. 4. 28.

It was the exact place and date where Silvain had conspired with his allies to murder Rowan Kailas.

‘Either Baron Kingsley betrayed me… or his tail was stepped on.’

And he could guess why the letter had deliberately been sent through Albert.

It was a message saying, I’m trampling through your surroundings as I come for you.

‘An arrogant bastard.’

It was unpleasant—but at the same time, it was an opportunity. A chance to pin everything on a piece that had become useless and slip away cleanly.

Folding the letter, Silvain spoke to Albert.

“You’ve worked hard coming all this way. And it would be best if you told no one about this. No one. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Albert felt as if Silvain had realized who the true sender of the letter was.

And the no one he referred to likely included Albert’s own father.

‘What the hell is going on?!’

He felt like he’d suffocate from frustration, but there was nothing he could demand.

“I… understand. May I take my leave now?”

“Go ahead.”

Albert staggered out of the marquis’s estate.

Watching his retreating figure from a second-floor window, Silvain took out a sheet of paper and scribbled a few lines.

It was a letter to Count Hayward, one of the so-called executors of the anti-ducal faction.

> “We’ve been exposed. Cut off Kingsley.”

* * *

Two days after Albert was released on bail, the Imperial Knights stormed the Kingsley estate.

Although the Anghelic case was still under investigation, and Albert’s bail had only been approved two days earlier, no one had expected this to happen.

But this time, the person the knights dragged away wasn’t Albert—it was Benedict.

“Let go of me! At least explain what this is about if you expect me to come quietly!”

As Benedict struggled in the knights’ grip, the commander stared at him coldly.

“This is by imperial decree. What further explanation do you require?”

“No, but I’m the Duke of Kailas’s uncle! You can’t treat me like this—!”

“A traitor to the Empire sure talks a lot. Take him away!”

“What? A traitor? What are you talking about?!”

Benedict stared at the commander in disbelief, but received no answer.

“There must be some misunderstanding. Please, just wait calmly.”

Trying to reassure his tearful wife, Benedict boarded the escort carriage. Albert’s deathly pale face bothered him, but he forced himself not to panic as they headed to the palace.

What awaited him there, however, was an imperial trial with all the major nobles present.

The imperial trial was the highest judicial authority of the Astoga Empire, a partially constitutional monarchy. The Emperor personally judged and sentenced the accused, and once a verdict was delivered, no appeal was possible.

Such trials were reserved only for cases of treason or crimes that caused extreme social upheaval.

‘What in the world is happening? Why is Count Hayward standing there?’

Seeing Count Hayward beside the Emperor, Benedict felt a surge of unease. Hayward’s cold expression only made it worse.

But there was no time to understand the situation.

Benedict was placed in the defendant’s position, and Emperor Durein asked in a frigid voice:

“Benedict Kingsley. Do you have even the slightest idea why you’ve been brought here?”

“N-no. I don’t.”

“Here’s a hint—this court primarily exists to punish traitors to the Empire. I’ll ask again. Do you truly have nothing weighing on your conscience?”

“……”

Benedict swallowed hard.

It wasn’t that nothing came to mind—it was that too much did, and he couldn’t speak recklessly.

As he hesitated, Durein let out a faint laugh.

“Count Hayward. Read out the charges.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Hayward unfolded the document he was holding and began to read.

“We hereby accuse Benedict Kingsley of colluding with the Kingdom of Firma and being deeply involved in the death of former Duke Rowan Kailas. Out of jealousy and envy toward his twin brother Rowan, and in order to seize control of the Kailas ducal house, he joined hands with the Kingdom of Firma—”

As Hayward’s voice echoed through the courtroom, Benedict stood there with his mouth hanging open, unable to believe what was happening.

To be implicated in Rowan’s death without a single warning—this was something he had never even imagined.

When Hayward finished reading the accusation, Durein spoke again.

“The evidence is more than sufficient. Letters exchanged with the Kingdom of Firma, large sums of money of unknown origin flowing into your accounts, and witness testimonies.”

“Th-that’s impossible…!”

“What is? That we uncovered it so quickly?”

The accurate strike made Benedict’s pupils shake, and Durein clicked his tongue in disgust.

“Did you think the imperial family and the ducal house had forgotten Rowan’s death? We’ve been gathering information and evidence in absolute secrecy. And once Count Hayward discovered the decisive proof and filed his accusation, all the pieces fell into place.”

“C-Count Hayward personally accused me?”

Fire flared in Benedict’s eyes.

The people who had dragged him into this affair were Marquis Pascal and Count Hayward—and now they had abandoned him.

Glaring at Hayward, Benedict shouted—