A Summer With Bitter Rivals - Chapter 73

Chapter 73: It’s Already Too Late

Emeline returned to the mansion through the pouring rain under a dark, overcast sky. As she stepped out of the carriage, she was about to take the umbrella offered by the coachman when she suddenly looked straight ahead.

Antony, holding a dark umbrella, was striding toward her at a brisk pace.

“You’re just getting back now? Do you even know what time it is?”

Antony stopped a short distance from her, his expression filled with displeasure. With one hand tucked into his pocket, he gazed at her intently.

“I stopped by the bookstore, that’s why I’m late.”

“You didn’t meet anyone else, did you?”

Antony muttered suspiciously. Emeline shot him a sharp glare before turning her head away.

Since she had just returned, there was no way the watchdogs had already reported anything to him. He was simply being sarcastic.

Already in a foul mood, she hadn’t been able to focus at the bookstore either, which only deepened her frustration. She let out a weary sigh.

She was about to brush past him with a half-hearted response when—

“Wait.”

Antony grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. When she turned around without resistance, his expression darkened.

“What happened to your face?”

“I got hurt. That’s all.”

“How did you get hurt? It looks like someone hit you.”

His face hardened as he persistently pressed for an answer. Emeline looked at him with irritation.

Back when their father had slapped her and locked her in her room, he hadn’t shown the slightest interest. So why was he suddenly acting concerned now?

“Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know, so don’t ask. I need to treat it before it scars.”

Using the excuse of tending to her injury, Emeline dismissed him and walked away. But Antony followed her all the way to the mansion, pestering her the entire time.

“How could you not know? You’re not that absentminded.”

“You’ll hear about it from the people spying on me anyway. Just wait and find out then. Now, leave me alone.”

She responded curtly and added that he should mind his own business.

Only after a struggle did Emeline finally manage to shake him off and retreat to her room. She stood against the door for a moment before stepping toward the table and ringing the bell.

Labore’s nails had been absurdly long—so long that the scratches on Emeline’s cheek had started to bead with fresh blood.

A maid hurried in, gasping at the sight of her wound, and quickly set about treating it. And so, her day came to a close.

Yet she still didn’t fully understand why she had been so furious at that moment, nor could she untangle her complicated emotions toward Zenon.

***

Emeline held up a small hand mirror, turning her head this way and that.

Two days had passed, but the wound on her cheek showed no signs of healing completely.

Because of this, she had canceled her meeting with Mathis, using the excuse of feeling unwell.

She put the mirror aside and quietly sipped her tea, deep in thought.

‘The moment I slapped Labore Fendine, I was already deeply involved in this matter.’

Recalling what had happened, she let out a small chuckle.

A noblewoman striking another noblewoman—it had been a reckless act, driven by impulse.

Yet, she had no regrets. If anything, she still felt relieved.

Even if Labore spread false rumors to paint herself as the victim, what did Emeline have to fear?

After all, the one who had truly acted disgracefully was Labore. And Emeline had Duke Delzeier by her side—his skill with words was unmatched.

No matter what rumors spread, she knew she wouldn’t suffer any real consequences.

‘Still… it’s frustrating that I didn’t get an answer to whether she’s really been seeing Zenon for the past five years.’

Her expression darkened. Simple speculation wasn’t enough.

She told herself not to get any more involved, but she had already meddled too much. The desire to uncover the truth had grown too strong to ignore.

For some reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this matter was somehow connected to her.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed when someone arrived at her door.

Looking up, Emeline greeted the visitor warmly.

“I heard you were looking for me, miss.”

“Yes, come in.”

Her visitor was one of the mansion’s maids—Benica.

With a kind smile, Emeline gestured toward the seat across from her.

“Have a seat.”

Benica looked at her with wary eyes before reluctantly taking the offered seat without protest.

Emeline caught the trace of suspicion in her gaze and found it amusing.

There was no particular reason for her to personally summon a maid, but Emeline had been keeping an eye on Benica for some time now.

It had been Benica, chatting with another servant, who had unwittingly allowed Emeline to learn about the Duke’s failed business dealings with the Marquis.

Her scathing remarks about the greed and corruption of nobles had been so memorable.

Moreover, while most of the mansion’s staff had left during the crisis, choosing to transfer to the failing business branches or quit entirely, Benica had stubbornly returned.

‘From what I found out, she’s the daughter of a fallen noble family…’

Her father had been deceived by a certain count and swindled out of everything.

As a result, she had been left destitute, forced to take on menial work just to survive.

Emeline slid a fresh teacup toward her and reached for the teapot herself.

Benica flinched and quickly protested. “Miss, I can do that. Ah—no, I don’t need to drink such fine tea.”

Her flustered reaction made Emeline chuckle.

“I called you here because I have a favor to ask. If I’m asking for a favor, shouldn’t I at least treat you well in return? It’s just a cup of tea, after all.”

Since the request she was about to make was of great importance, she was offering this treatment. If Benica was perceptive, she might have already realized this and was refusing out of caution.

Steam curled above the teacup. Sitting on the plush sofa, Benica fidgeted restlessly.

Emeline had invited her to tea but had yet to state her reason, leisurely savoring her drink instead.

Eventually, unable to endure the discomfort any longer, Benica spoke first.

“Um, miss… Why did you call for me? What sort of favor do you need that requires me…?”

“Benica, when you choose whom to serve, what do you prioritize?”

Perhaps because of the unexpected question, Benica’s eyes widened.

Emeline studied her reaction with a smile. It was somewhat surprising—different from the cynical and mature response she had anticipated.

Seeing the maid’s confusion, she kindly elaborated. “When you have multiple choices, what determines your priority in selecting an employer? Do you choose the place that guarantees your safety first, or the one that pays better?”

“Ah, I… um…”

It seemed difficult for her to answer. Perhaps because she wasn’t sure what might follow.

Some aristocrats, when they saw their servants show signs of financial desperation, would amuse themselves by falsely accusing them of theft and throwing them out. Simply to alleviate their own boredom.

Benica herself had suffered such humiliation at the hands of a provincial noble.

Sensing her distress, Emeline decided to end the suspense.

“I called you here because I need you to do something that goes against my father’s will. You must not get caught. If he finds out, not only will you be in danger, but so will I.”

“……”

“But in return, the money I’ll give you will be ten times your current wages.”

This was the key point.

Emeline knew that Benica was in desperate need of money. She had a younger sibling who was bedridden with illness.

If Benica agreed to work for her, Emeline was fully willing to fund her sibling’s treatment.

After all, Emeline’s allowance alone was more than enough to pay such a sum to a maid. Even giving her a single earring would likely be worth more than all the money Benica had ever handled in her life.

After a long silence, as Benica fidgeted with her fingers, she finally opened her mouth.

The moment she did, a faint smile formed on Emeline’s lips.

“…What is the favor?”

“It’s nothing too difficult. If necessary, you’ll lie to my father, deceive those around you, and carry out errands for me.”

Emeline personally pushed a plate with a small tart toward her.

She knew Benica wouldn’t touch it, but she wanted to show her that with this decision, she would gain more.

“Why… did you choose me? Because you know I’m in need of money?”

At that moment, Benica unexpectedly muttered those words. Her gaze dropped as if she were struggling with unbearable humiliation.

Emeline silently observed her bowed head and trembling shoulders before responding in a low voice.

“I know your circumstances. And you must know mine as well. You’ve seen it countless times in this house.”

Among the servants of the ducal household, there was not a single one who was unaware of how Emeline suffered under her father’s oppression.

That was why, when they left the estate, they were forced to keep their mouths shut. Whether through hush money or threats.

It wasn’t until four years ago that Emeline had learned this fact herself.

“…Are you suggesting that our situations are similar?”

“No. Our wounds aren’t the same, nor are they of equal depth. But we both understand one thing—how despicable and shallow the nobility can be. And how much my father embodies those traits.”

“……”

“Doesn’t it bother you? It bothers me. You lost your peaceful life because of a greedy noble. And I live a life where I’ve lost myself to satisfy a noble’s vanity.”

Emeline pulled out an envelope from beneath a cushion on the sofa. It contained enough money to cover a month’s worth of Benica’s younger sibling’s medical expenses.

She placed it in front of the maid. “Choose. Decide who your employer will be.”

Though Emeline appeared calm on the surface, in reality, she was filled with tension.

Of all the people in this household, Benica, with her deep resentment toward the aristocracy, seemed the most likely to betray the Duke.

After a long hesitation, Benica reached out with both hands and took the envelope Emeline offered.

“What… do I need to do?”

“Good choice.”

Relieved by her decision, Emeline’s face brightened.

She then began instructing Benica on her first task.

It wasn’t difficult.

Benica was to visit the bookstore Emeline had frequented for years and deliver a letter to the owner, asking how often Zenon usually stopped by.

Then, she was to bring back a reply.

That way, Emeline could conveniently run into Zenon Trancium again.

‘It’s already too late to avoid getting involved with Zenon Trancium now.’

No matter what wounds this would bring, she needed to find out.

The secret he was hiding.

And why it felt so deeply unsettling.