MHR 21

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Chapter 21

“Um, Master… shall I light the candles?”

The butler spoke cautiously as Damon crouched silently in the darkness, unmoving.

“I’ll do it.”

Snap! Damon snapped his fingers, and all the candles scattered around the room ignited simultaneously.

The butler was startled—Damon rarely used magic inside the mansion, so this sudden display was intimidating.

“Sh-should I prepare tea?”

“No need for tea. I just wanted to sit here for a while. This sofa is remarkably soft. And…”

The wallpaper flickered with the shadows of the candlelight, bright and clean. The chandelier above gleamed without a single cobweb.

The moonlight streaming through the window revealed dust-free panes, and the furniture looked entirely new, without a scratch.

Visiting the east parlor after so long, Damon felt like he had stepped into a stranger’s house.

The mansion rarely received guests, and when it did, they were always his guests: guild leaders, underworld matriarchs, assassins, loan sharks, slave traders. When meeting such dangerous people discreetly, Damon would host them briefly in the west parlor or study for a cup of tea before sending them away.

Thus, the east parlor had essentially been abandoned.

‘Clarissa decorated this lavishly and meticulously all by herself for a tea party?’

It seemed impossible. The room looked perfect for hosting guests, leaving Damon utterly flabbergasted.

Running his hand over the walnut armrest of the sofa, Damon turned to the butler.

“You bought a new sofa?”

“The termites attacked, sir. All the furniture and window frames were affected. The sofa had holes, practically falling apart, and the back kitchen door came off entirely.”

“I see… the repairs must have cost a fortune.”

“Lady Clarissa manages the household so thoroughly that the finances not only cover expenses but increase every day.”

“Even with all this extravagance, the funds still grow daily? I can’t believe it.”

Damon’s sharp gaze prompted a slight smile from the butler, as if he had been waiting for this question.

“Since Lady Clarissa personally took charge of the household, the money that was leaking away stopped. I tried my best, but I couldn’t account for servants secretly pocketing ingredients.”

“…”

“Also, the gardener used to intentionally kill some of the garden trees and falsify the books to replace them with expensive ones, but Lady Clarissa spotted everything like a hawk. She said she could tell just by looking, and indeed, everything matched perfectly.”

The butler began to lavish endless praise on Clarissa.

“She said there’s a difference between poverty and destitution, and a world of difference between ambition and greed.”

“She actually said that?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks to her keen insight, any servants who didn’t work but embezzled funds were all dismissed. So the repairs and new furniture didn’t cost a single penny from the original funds—they were all covered by surplus money.”

“Surplus money? And she claims the funds still grow every day because of saving a few coins?”

Damon let out a hollow laugh, incredulous.

The butler, feeling a bit wronged, raised his voice further, detailing their accomplishments.

“It’s not just a few coins—the finances grew enough to buy an entire mansion in the capital. In a few days, it could increase several dozen times more.”

“What?”

Was this some kind of gamble? Damon’s gaze sharpened, and the butler, seeing this as his chance to impress, straightened his shoulders and continued.

“Lady Clarissa said keeping surplus cash idle would risk losing its value and becoming poor overnight. She suggested buying cattle and letting them graze, and the moment we bought the calves, the price of cattle skyrocketed.”

“I was the one who bought the overpriced cattle! I needed them to make cured beef products.”

“Really? Oh my! If you had told Lady Clarissa in advance, she would have gotten you a better deal.”

“Hah!”

So she effectively used his own money to boost her household finances? This was impossible unless she intended to strengthen her own resources deliberately.

“And then she used the money from selling the cattle to buy land—wasteland near a remote mountain village. I strongly advised against it, saying it was like throwing money away, but she ignored me. And haha! From the creek running through the land…”

“Gold and mana stones washed down from the mines, right?”

“Exactly! It’s a top secret, but it seems Lady Clarissa mentioned it to you?”

“No.”

Damon sprang to his feet, clenching his fists tightly.

“When did you start planning to blindside me, Clarissa?”

When it rained, debris from the mana stone mine would wash downstream into the creek, carrying gold and mana stones. Damon had intended to buy the land along the creek after the Crown Prince Valentine’s engagement and pay a high price, only to find the land now owned by Clarissa.

“Gosling. Bring me the Lady’s account ledgers immediately.”

Instead of trying to use magic to see when and why Clarissa’s feelings changed, Damon believed the ledgers would provide more certainty.

“The Lady keeps the ledgers and her seal stored separately,” the butler said from behind Damon as he turned to leave the parlor.

“What? So now I can’t even see the ledgers?”

“…If you ask about them, sir, the Lady instructed that you be told she has no intention of showing them. Please understand that I must follow her orders.”

The butler wiped cold sweat from his brow and spoke with difficulty.

“‘Don’t bother asking—I won’t show you anything,’ that’s what she said.”

!!!

Millen, who had stood perfectly still until now, staggered slightly at the revelation, but it was nothing compared to Damon’s shock. Damon felt as if he’d been struck in the back of the head—stunned, speechless.

‘Where am I?’

Everything was dark, whether my eyes were open or closed. Everything I touched was damp and cold. The stench was so strong it seemed my nose would rot.

“Ah!”

As I groped for the exit, a sharp pain pierced between my nails and flesh, making me jump.

Blood seemed to flow from the wound, and I grasped it with my other hand, waiting for the pain to subside.

This wasn’t a dream—I could feel the agony.

My last memory was the greenhouse. I had finally held the magic sword, told Damon I wanted a divorce, and lost consciousness.

But why was I waking up in this strange place? I had no idea.

Then the door creaked open, and dim light poured in. A tall, sturdy man approached me through the glow.

“Clarissa.”

“Damon?”

Through the light streaming from behind Damon, I realized I was in a prison.

‘He locked me up because I said I wanted a divorce? Crazy!’

I glared at Damon through the bars, about to demand he release me, but something was wrong.

Damon’s usual arrogant, selfish demeanor was gone. He looked haggard and exhausted. Dark shadows lay under his eyes, and his lips were torn from biting them so much.

“Tell the judge it was me. That I killed the Duke. Understand?”

His hoarse voice made my heart skip.

Killed the Duke? The Racton Duke is dead? Already?

“Damon! When did you kill the Racton Duke? We haven’t even divorced yet!”

“I see the torturer must have given you some strange drug. That’s why you’re talking nonsense.”

“…!”

“You need to tell them clearly that killing the Duke wasn’t your doing. I don’t owe you anything. Nothing changes if you meddle. I won’t stop fighting until the Racton lineage is eradicated.”

Having said his piece, Damon turned away.

‘This was what Damon said the day before Clarissa died, in prison…’

So is this a dream? Such a vivid dream? Or did I collapse from the magic sword and sleep for months? I had no clue.

“W-wait, Damon! Wait! I don’t understand what’s going on. Just release me first!”

He turned his head slightly toward me, and his face was drenched in tears.

Unable to comprehend his grief, I was about to shout when I suddenly opened my eyes to find myself in a cozy room.

“Haak… haak…”

My whole body was soaked in cold sweat. My wet hair clung to my face, burning like a burn as I tried to pull it away.

Staring at my palm in disbelief, I stumbled weakly.

“This is your doing, you magic sword! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

The magic sword normally remained invisible unless danger arose. Practical for the owner, but frustrating for the sword itself.

The sword, talkative and attention-seeking, only revealed itself when the owner faced danger or fear. It often tormented Valentine with induced fear—and drove him nearly insane.

It probably intended a similar trick on me.

“Hey, magic sword! Do you think my greatest fear is dying in Damon’s place? I will never sacrifice myself for him!”

I snapped my fingers. The sword stayed silent—unable to appear without my fear.

“Just protect me properly, got it?”

Muttering to myself, I finally noticed the room and shivered in horror.

“This… this is the room I stayed in before my marriage! Why am I lying here?”

Tension ran down my spine, and a blinding light burst forth as the magic sword revealed itself.