A Mad Lady’s Confession - Chapter 8

“Del, did you sleep well…?”

As soon as she woke, Eleanor rubbed her eyes out of habit and greeted instinctively. Then she realized where she was and froze.

This wasn’t “that room.” Right. I’m married now.

Soft morning sunlight seeped through the muslin curtains, and out on the terrace, summer skylarks hopped about.

The pillows and blankets smelled wonderful. The bed was unbelievably soft. Nothing like that room, where she’d piled several thick blankets just to make the hard bed tolerable.

The memory made her pale face instantly turn sour. Her lips tasted bitter with guilt. She was the only one enjoying something this nice.

‘But it’s only for a year. So please understand. I’ll live well enough for the both of us, like I promised.’

Mumbling habitually inside her mind, Eleanor sat up. As if waiting for her to wake, a voice sounded from outside the bedroom.

“Madam, it’s the head maid. May I come in?”

“Y-yes! Please come in!”

Eleanor scrambled out of bed. She slipped on silk slippers and pulled on the robe hanging over the chair.

Soon the door opened, and the head maid entered.

“Did you sleep comfortably?”

“Yes, I slept very well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Would you like to have breakfast in your room?”

“Yes, please.”

“It’s not a request, madam. You simply need to give the order.”

At the head maid’s gentle correction, Eleanor felt slightly embarrassed.

She was a count’s daughter, after all. She knew the etiquette and lifestyle of nobles. Especially etiquette, since her eldest sister had lectured her sternly with books open.

But she’d only been married for seven nights. The dignified servants of House Nielsen were still difficult for a young bride.

And by nature, she couldn’t shamelessly accept even small favors from others. Even if the relationship was employer and servant.

Carefully, Eleanor opened her mouth.

“Um… did His Grace return home last night?”

“Yes. He returned just before midnight and left again early this morning.”

Ah, I see.

A shy smile formed on Eleanor’s lips.

Even so, hearing news of him made her happy in this moment.

He always returned before midnight. As if he were trying to grant someone’s wish.

Thinking of that made her nose sting faintly, and at the same time, guilt pricked her. For an entire week, she hadn’t fulfilled her duties as a wife even once.

Matthias said he didn’t want it, but even so, she felt indebted.

From the day of the wedding, a full week had passed, yet Eleanor hadn’t properly seen Matthias’s face once. She always thought about greeting him when he left early or came home late, but Eleanor was weak to sleep.

“Today, I’ll wait for His Grace. When he returns, could you please let me know?”

“Yes, madam. Of course.”

The head maid bowed, then paused as if remembering something important, turning back to fully face Eleanor.

“We’ve received word that Lady Jules will arrive in the capital in a few days. She’s His Grace’s aunt.”

“…Ah, I see.”

“Lady Jules is extremely strict about hierarchy and formality. You should speak comfortably to the servants, madam. Otherwise, it may be seen as improper.”

Eleanor immediately understood the warning. Using honorifics for servants would look strange in many ways.

“Oh, thank you. I mean—thank… yes, thank you.”

“Yes, madam. I’ll prepare your breakfast.”

She thought she was well prepared, but she was still far from it. As she left the room, Eleanor tried to picture the 358 days ahead.

***

Lemren’s capital, Belgar, was a city overflowing with splendor, excess, and sights so abundant the eyes never had a moment to rest.

Despite its long history, it didn’t feel refined or dignified. Instead, it resembled a flock of peacocks, each one desperate to show off. Because of that, its extravagance always bordered on gaudy, like a city built by a nouveau riche.

In one of the quieter streets located about three blocks away from the city’s bustling main district, where some remnants of old dignity still lingered, a carriage came to a stop.

Long legs stepped down onto the cobblestone road. With a determined stride as if he had a specific destination in mind, he walked forward without hesitation. Then suddenly, his step halted. A palm‑sized obstacle had landed in front of his shoe.

“….”

Matthias stopped and looked down for a moment at the lace‑covered object.

When he lifted his eyes, the hem of a dress drifted farther away, almost as if deliberately showing itself off. He bent down and picked up the handkerchief.

“Lady.”

He hadn’t even called loudly, yet the woman holding a parasol turned around. When their eyes met, her flirtatious gaze trembled faintly.

“It seems you dropped this.”

“Oh my!”

The woman hurried over as if she’d narrowly escaped a great loss.

“Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it.”

For something dropped and returned, that level of thanks was more than enough.

“But um… aren’t you Duke Nielsen?”

Of course. There wasn’t a single person in the capital who didn’t recognize him, especially not a woman.

“My goodness, what an incredible coincidence….”

The woman looked genuinely stunned by this magical coincidence.

“Should I call this fate? If you don’t mind… could I offer you a cup of tea to thank you for picking up my handkerchief?”

Matthias met the woman’s boldly tilted gaze. Her eyes were a deep, rich brown.

He had never bothered remembering a stranger woman’s eye color before. He’d never needed to. He never engaged in long conversations or secret exchanges of looks; he had far more stimulating options than that.

“I swear to offer all my faith, love, and respect.”

So why did those emerald‑colored eyes, trembling as she recited her marriage vows, have to surface in his mind now of all times?

Matthias slowly parted his lips to respond to the woman waiting for an answer.

“…I’m afraid I can’t. I have work at the newspaper office.”

“Then… could you perhaps come to my summer garden party in a few days? If it’s alright with you, I’ll send a proper invitation.”

A summer garden party.

Nobles of the capital, wilted by the oppressive midday heat, sought nighttime amusements to enjoy the season. Spending time in a garden late at night, after the heat had faded, while engaging in various pastimes was one of those entertainments.

If it had been the old him, he might have at least considered it for a moment. But now….

“I’m afraid I must decline. I have to be at my mansion at night.”

“Is there… some particular reason…?”

It wasn’t anything important. Matthias answered indifferently and gave a small nod.

“Someone says it’s their wish.”

“Pardon…?”

Leaving the bewildered noblewoman behind, he resumed his stride.

It wasn’t as if he was paying special attention to his one‑year bride’s words. He simply thought the woman before him wasn’t to his taste.

That was all.

When he entered the newspaper office, the editor‑in‑chief spotted him immediately and followed after him.

<Veritas et Honos>, published every other week, was unlike other newspapers that covered only news from the capital. It handled stories from every region of Lemren. That was possible only because Nielsen had wealth and connections spread across the entire nation.

He had a certain fondness for this work. He took pride in being able to summarize events happening throughout the Empire onto a few sheets of paper.

But recently, his newspaper had become yet another source of trouble.

“Is it the same again this time?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

With cold eyes, he brushed his hand across the single sheet placed on the oak desk.

Printed on cheap paper sold at any shop in the capital, with a crudely made layout, the article once again featured a sensational headline.

“‘The Vile Desires of the One Who Wears the Golden Crown’….”

The small subheading underneath read: Praise the great achievement of creating illegitimate children.

Just the headline made it obvious who the article was aimed at. The one who wore the golden crown. Gold symbolized only the Imperial Family.

“This time too, the trail led only to the end of the tail. Unlike with Countess Carmarthen, there wasn’t even collateral.”

Matthias picked up the sheet in question.

People had started calling this gossip paper “the Paper” at some point. The name was just a synonym, nothing creative, yet he thought it suited it perfectly.

There was no need to attach any grand name to it. Its contents were worth no more than a cheap ‘paper.’

This sheet dealt with every kind of gossip circulating in the capital, with no confirmation of truth whatsoever.

The problem was that, for some reason, there were times when the Paper’s gossip actually turned out to be true. After that, many nobles and commoners alike began accepting its contents as fact.

But there was a bigger problem.

These sheets, with neither author nor distributor identified, had started appearing tucked between the pages of Matthias’s own newspaper, which was distributed every two weeks.

Because of that, people had begun to secretly assume Matthias was the true owner of the Paper.

Wasn’t that an utterly ridiculous thought?

“What kind of lunatic would advertise this garbage as their own?”

“Yes, sir. I thought the same. But it seems this time we’ll need a separate explanation. Not only the citizens of the Empire, but even the Imperial Family will wonder where this article was distributed from.”

At the words of the editor‑in‑chief, Alvan Tuyter, Matthias narrowed his brows.

What had once seemed like a trivial and laughable incident involving a single sheet of paper had gradually gained influence, eventually becoming significant enough to shake the entire capital.

Whoever created it was cunning and wickedly clever. With only a single sheet of paper, they’d managed to seize the power to stir and manipulate public opinion.

During that time, he’d tried every possible method to catch the culprit, but all they ever uncovered were disposable tails that could be cut off and replaced.

“…For now, investigate a little further. If necessary, request additional support from the chief of police. If you mention my name to Chief Horton, he’ll help.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

His eyes fell again on the cheap sheet of paper. The crude letters printed on it seemed to scream.

As if they truly contained the world’s entire truth.