Chapter 11
“Milady! How did you end up with such injuries?”
The butler who came out to meet me at the mansion looked utterly bewildered at my appearance.
My forehead was split and bleeding, and my hair was a tangled mess—of course he would be alarmed.
“I had an accident on the way. There was nothing I could do.”
“Did someone jump into the royal carriage? That alone would be a grave offense.”
“They will pay for that offense, I promise.”
I spun on my heel and approached the royal carriage driver.
“You’ve worked hard to bring me back safely. But I wonder—since the inside of the carriage is a mess—won’t you be reprimanded?”
“Indeed. It’s rare for a royal carriage to get damaged. I may have to clean it immediately and pay for the repairs out of my own salary.”
“Perhaps that can wait.”
I took a gold coin from my silk pouch and continued.
“His Highness the Crown Prince might be worried about whether I returned safely. Don’t you think?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
“Then how about reporting to him first? Tell him that the journey back to the mansion was difficult, but it seems I didn’t break any bones.”
The quick-witted driver nodded vigorously as he took the coin from me.
“Understood. I will report every detail.”
“Then take care on your way back.”
“Yes, Baroness.”
The driver bowed repeatedly and drove off at speed.
‘Looks like he’s eager to get off the hook.’
If the carriage was ruined, blaming Aileen would keep the driver from being scolded.
“Ugh…”
I groaned in pain as I slowly walked toward the mansion.
I wasn’t pretending to be hurt—my entire body ached. It seemed I would be bedridden for a few days.
“Milady! I will summon the physician immediately.”
“Yes. And bring all the ledgers back with you on the way.”
“You’re not well, so why the ledgers?”
“If I lie down and stare at the ceiling, I’ll drive myself mad. I’d rather work on something.”
Like saying, If life’s unfair, profit from it, I planned to make a fortune.
I would dream of living well and eating well after divorcing Damon—it would ease my sorrow slightly. Today was just a terrible day.
A black horse stopped in front of the Rackton mansion as darkness began to fall.
The man who dismounted was clad entirely in black from head to toe.
With black hair and a black cloak, he leapt from the horse silently.
“Welcome.”
Clarissa’s father, Faber, approached holding a lantern.
The faint light revealed Damon’s figure.
Faber bowed lightly, avoiding Damon’s gaze.
“The Duke awaits you.”
“It seems there’s an urgent matter requiring my attention.”
Though they were father- and son-in-law, no warm greetings were exchanged.
“Follow me. He said to come through the back.”
Faber led the way down the back path.
Inviting a nobleman to enter through a servant’s door was clearly a warning: never forget that you are still just a hunting dog.
‘Dwayne Rackton must be in a bad mood.’
Damon followed quietly, eyes fixed on Faber’s back.
The back door led to the kitchen, which connected to the rear of the lobby.
“I will take my leave here, then.”
Faber Mercium disappeared down the corridor.
Watching him fade like a ghost, Damon narrowed his eyes.
‘What exactly is he thinking, helping the Duke with his evil schemes?’
Faber didn’t seem inherently malicious; I’d never seen him pocket bribes or torment employees.
But he wasn’t entirely good either. If he had even a shred of decency, he wouldn’t have spent his life cleaning up the Duke’s filth.
What was inside Faber’s dark soul? Damon had no idea.
He simply ignored it—he didn’t want to care.
When all Rackton blood had been removed, Faber, the Duke’s tool, would die as well.
Damon approached the study and knocked lightly. Rackton’s voice came shortly after:
“Enter.”
The Duke was polishing a sword with a dry rag. The stench of blood and metal was strong—it seemed he had recently taken an innocent life.
“Duke, I am here.”
Still uncomfortable with formalities, Damon brought his fist to his left chest and bowed.
“Forget the formalities. Even without constant displays of respect, I know your loyalty.”
The Duke sheathed his sword and moved toward the sofa.
A table was set with strong liquor. He poured a drink and gestured for Damon to sit.
“Sit.”
“Yes, Duke.”
As Damon took a seat, the Duke’s gaze bore into him.
“I’ve heard your business has been thriving recently.”
“You mean the magical dolls? They’re toys for children, imported from abroad.”
“I see. And you also sell pickled goods?”
The Duke’s tone was sharp; it seemed his salt was not selling.
“I started it as a hobby, really.”
“A hobby, eh? I wonder where you got all that salt for pickling?”
The questioning continued—just as expected.
“From seawater. We pickle meat, vegetables, and fish.”
Following Clarissa’s advice, Damon answered calmly.
“Seawater? That would smell fishy and rot quickly.”
“We use clean water from the distant sea and a special method.”
“So you’ve made pickled foods without using the Duke’s salt? How terrible.”
The Duke’s face twisted in frustration. He had no business acumen—he’d built his wealth by seizing others’ property.
He’d confiscate lands, seize assets, and absorb trade companies.
But now, even that raiding could not continue. Until Aileen became Empress, nobles and merchants had to be treated properly.
The empire was a bigger prize; he had to wait.
Damon found it amusing. The mighty Duke Rackton, who ruled with a sword, appeared so weak now.
“Is there a problem?”
As if fanning the flames, Damon feigned ignorance.
“You don’t really know? Since your trading company started selling pickled goods, the sales of my salt have plummeted.”
“You mean my pickled goods are causing you losses? I’ll stop immediately. But that will also halt supplies to the royal family.”
“You’ve already started supplying the royal household?”
“Yes. Contracts were made with the Creva, George, and Kotarai trading companies, but I will cancel them immediately.”
Damon’s calm explanation irritated the Duke.
“You’ve made so many contracts! Tch. Canceling them will cause trouble. Just pretend I didn’t hear it.”
“Understood, Duke. I was shortsighted.”
“Next time, consult me before starting. You’re obsessed with profit, but that’s no way to conduct business.”
The Duke drank his liquor in displeasure, frustrated that Damon had foiled him.
‘He’s greedy for money but has no ambition.’
Even though Aileen was desperate for him, Damon married the butler’s daughter, showing no ambition.
Yet his greed extended to the Duke’s main income—salt.
Normally, someone like him could be killed instantly, but Damon was still useful.
The Duke placed his empty glass down and scrutinized Damon.
“You’ve been seen meeting with Aileen. What’s going on?”
He must be referring to the day Aileen forcibly dragged Clarissa from the royal carriage.
‘He must have heard of Aileen’s craziness but conveniently ignored it.’
Even if Damon defended Aileen and criticized her, it would have been pointless.
The scandal had already spread, even reaching Valentin. The Emperor would soon know too.
But this wouldn’t cancel the engagement. The Emperor and Duke Rackton, aware of each other’s natures, had a mutually beneficial “crocodile and crocodile bird” relationship.
“I just happened to meet the Princess, Duke. I am married and have never forgotten my duty or position.”
“That’s right. If there’s trouble over Aileen again, I won’t show mercy.”
The Duke’s gaze was more threatening than a warning as he poured himself liquor.
Seeing the normally restrained Duke drink so recklessly, Damon smirked slightly, suppressing his amusement.
The revenge hadn’t even begun—only the groundwork was laid.
Soon, Aileen would be broken off from, and later, the Duke’s eldest son Frederick would take the fall for the plot to kill Valentin.
Rackton, unaware of these schemes, spoke, eyes alight with anticipation.
“When Aileen becomes Empress and bears an heir, my grandson will be Emperor. I want the Rackton bloodline to rule the empire forever—that will ensure eternal prosperity.”
The Duke’s face, once smiling as if he already had the empire, suddenly turned cold, glaring at Damon.
“Anyone who obstructs that path will not survive. That is why I summoned you today.”
“…”
“Keep an eye on Clarissa. If Aileen loses control because of her, Clarissa won’t survive either.”
“She is Faber Mercium’s daughter.”
“Then fill the position when needed. The old is boring. Prove your usefulness, Craig.”
Rackton casually stated that he would kill both Clarissa and the loyal Faber without hesitation.
“I will serve you faithfully, Duke.”
“But why, after marrying Clarissa, is there still no child?”
“Eh?”
