A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 25

A priest, who could be contacted to reach one right now?

Bradley almost overturned his drawers, desperately searching for contact information.

The Wells family, known for producing generations of distinguished knights, was not a family one could afford to offend.

It wasn’t just because Count Wells was the head of the Royal Third Order of Knights or because Countess Wells had extensive social connections.

It was because the gold mining business Baron Ambrose was currently heated about was under the jurisdiction of the Wells family.

‘Damn it, the mining can only start if Count Wells agrees to the sale!’

If the count were to see the bruise on Tilia’s face and develop a poor opinion of him, it would be disastrous.

‘Foolish girl.’

Bradley ground his teeth at the thought of the astronomical cost of hiring a healer.

‘I deliberately aimed at a hidden spot on her head, but that foolish girl twisted her head, making it hurt less…!’

Bradley overturned three drawers before finally finding the address of a viscount who might have connections to the temple, letting out a sigh of relief.

But that relief didn’t last long. He soon remembered just how difficult it was to appease that particular viscount and his expression hardened.

If he urgently requested a healer, how much would that viscount use the opportunity to make himself seem generous?

‘Should I just tell her to cover it with her hair?’

…No. Bradley shook his head hastily, dismissing the idea that had momentarily crossed his mind.

If the wind blew and it was discovered, it would be a major problem. He had paraded her around as if she were the cherished daughter of a loving father—he couldn’t let that facade crumble now.

‘Damn it, how much money do I have to spend to heal just one bruise?’

Bradley clicked his tongue as he looked at his foolish daughter standing there blankly. She had a decent enough face that he had raised her without embarrassment, but she was more troublesome than expected.

‘Just graduate from the academy, and I’ll sell you to the highest bidder.’

Bradley quickly calculated the remaining money in the safe and gestured to Tilia.

“Go. I’ll bring in a healer before tomorrow evening.”

Tilia bowed her head politely and left the room.

***

Clack.

As she closed the door behind her, Tilia raised one side of her mouth into a crooked smile.

Idiot.

It was true that she was going to meet Judy, but it wasn’t tomorrow.

‘He’s going to spend quite a bit urgently summoning a healer.’

To summon a healer from the temple, one had to give at least three days’ notice. If they wanted treatment sooner, they had to pay a hefty additional fee.

But even that was only possible if they had the right connections.

Tilia laughed at her father, who would soon be writing an obsequious letter to a noble he barely knew, as she climbed the stairs.

The fate of the Ambrose family had nothing to do with her.

‘No, it would be better if it collapsed. That way they wouldn’t be able to chase after me when I leave for another country.’

She didn’t care about the house as long as it remained intact until she left. After that, whatever happened to it had nothing to do with her.

‘More importantly, where should I go tomorrow?’

Should she just dress up a bit, go out, and pretend she had met someone? Or should she actually contact Judy and arrange to meet her tomorrow?

As she climbed the stairs, planning what to do the next day—

“Hey.”

An unpleasant voice grabbed hold of Tilia’s ankles. Turning her head, she saw George, as if he had hurried to catch up with her, panting as he looked up at her.

Tilia looked down at her brother below the stairs with indifferent eyes. Her face seemed to say, “If you have something to say, go ahead.”

“That… Hey, you!”

George, glancing at her with eyes that didn’t seem too bright, puffed his chest as if wounded in his pride for even having to consider her reaction, and spoke.

“Listen, you shouldn’t just throw yourself around at the academy.”

“……?”

She wondered why he had called her, and that was it.

Tilia’s already cold gaze turned even chillier.

However, even under her scornful gaze, George continued.

“Uh, got it? Don’t flirt with male professors just to get good grades.”

What does he think the academy is?

The idea that there would be students who would try to get better grades through such means, and professors who would fall for it, was exactly at his level of thinking.

Not wanting to engage, Tilia turned her head away from him.

“I haven’t, and I won’t.”

“Who knows. You have to acknowledge how sly girls can be.”

Tilia, who had been about to ignore him and continue walking, suddenly stopped.

“‘I can’t’ or ‘I won’t,’ that’s what girls always think will get everyone to do things for them, right? Maybe you got your grades with your face too. Be honest. You’ve really never been to a professor’s house?”

Was it because graduation was just around the corner? Or had her patience finally worn thin?

“I won’t tell Father, just be honest with me. Huh? You really haven’t?”

It was becoming increasingly unbearable to listen to his vile words.

Tilia slowly turned her head to look at her biological brother.

With his light brown hair and green eyes, he had inherited his father’s handsome features. And just like his father, the only thing he had was that handsome face.

“Why would I go there?”

Tilia spoke kindly to George, who had, from the study to here, been constantly introducing himself.

“I’m not an idiot who couldn’t even pass the entrance exam like you.”

“Hey, you…!”

When she directly pointed out the inferiority complex that had driven George to pester her persistently, he turned red with rage.

“You crazy bitch, what did you just say!”

“Having trouble understanding? I said I’m not like you.”

With a smooth smile, Tilia mocked him.

George Ambrose was a fool who had applied to the Royal Academy of Arkansis five times, yet never once came close to passing.

“Well, that’s all you can see, right? People tend to think at their own level.”

Tilia knew how deeply George had felt the sting of failure.

And how he had chosen to channel that failure.

“What, are you angry? That you’re incompetent, and the women who should be beneath you are actually far superior?”

Raised like a prince in the family, George couldn’t accept that he was a nobody in the outside world.

Unable to accept it, he went so far as to convince himself that clever women were using underhanded tactics to take his rightful place.

“But what can you do? That doesn’t mean there will be women willing to be with you.”

However, just because he believed it didn’t make it true. Noble, intelligent ladies weren’t going to suddenly look at a worthless baron’s son differently.

“Stop introducing yourself and just go learn your work properly. If you lack intelligence, you should at least have perseverance.”

“How dare you…!”

George stormed up the stairs as if ready to grab Tilia by the hair.

Closing the distance in an instant, he glared with bloodshot eyes, his fist raised high.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since you got hit.”

Just as his large fist cast a shadow over Tilia’s head—

“If you want to hit me, go ahead.”

Tilia raised one corner of her mouth, as if she had been waiting for this.

“But you know I’m meeting Judy tomorrow, right?”

As expected, George’s fist froze midair.

“If you hit me, make sure it’s somewhere no one will see. Oh, and don’t think I won’t say anything to Judy. You know I’m having dinner with the Wells family tomorrow, right? It’ll be fun if I show up there limping. Don’t you think?”

Looking at George’s contorted face and the trembling fist hovering in the air, Tilia scoffed.

Judy’s mother, Countess Grace Wells, was famously well-connected in society. It was said that if she didn’t know a lady, that lady wasn’t yet truly a lady.

Yes, it’d be troublesome for him if his true nature were exposed before marriage.

As George trembled in anger, unable to bring himself to strike her, Tilia smirked openly and half-turned away.

“I hear you’ve been acting pretty tame outside these days? What, after showing your pathetic true nature, did the high-born ladies not even glance your way?”

“…Shut up. Before I really beat the crap out of you.”

“Good decision. Keep acting modest. That’s the only way you’ll catch a rich, naïve girl like Father did.”

“You damn bitch…!”

Ignoring her brother’s curses, which he couldn’t hold back, Tilia ascended the stairs with a light step.