Woman of the Month - Chapter 1

1. Graham Harold

Boring.

Graham Harold thought so while listening to his mother’s chatter pouring like a waterfall during tea time.

It was an odd thought. Boredom was a feeling that did not match at all with his otherwise dense life.

Graham’s father, Charles Harold, was the head of the Winchester Marquess family, one of Ingrint’s three great noble houses. He was also a member of the legislature and the owner of influential domestic and foreign media outlets. Additionally, he possessed immense wealth, including the Wiltshire estate. And all of that would one day belong to Graham Harold—both the power and wealth.

Winchester was the most beloved noble family in Ingrint. The other great nobles, the Duke of Devonshire and the Earl of Spencer, were so proud that their noses seemed to reach the clouds, but Winchester was different.

They were public-friendly—both physically and psychologically. The public was thrilled to see the Winchester Marquess family establish media outlets and unhesitatingly publish articles or columns criticizing politics and business in newspapers and magazines.

For generations, the sons of Winchester were sent to public schools and Grentabridge College to live collectively. This was the first case that shattered the stereotype that high-ranking nobles preferred home tutoring and avoided associating with people they deemed unworthy.

A few times a year, the family heir would personally visit poorhouses to provide charity to the destitute and wretched. This also contributed to their popularity. Graham Harold faithfully carried out the Winchester Marquess family’s tradition, earning a reputation as the archangel of the slums.

Graham’s daily schedule was as dense as a newspaper without any empty space. If an unavoidable reason caused a small gap, it had to be filled later, like issuing an extra edition.

However, in the midst of his breathless schedule, he would occasionally feel an inexplicable ennui that he could not even explain to himself. It was the same feeling as finding a typo in an article that had been proofread dozens of times.

Graham Harold, holding a teacup while tuning out his mother’s nagging, recalled the conversation he had just had with his father in the office.

“Father, about the editorial on the recent incident…”

“Graham, don’t concern yourself with that matter.”

Between father and son, there had been a minor disagreement about an editorial for The Lydon Spectator, Winchester’s influential daily newspaper.

The editorial Graham referred to raised suspicions about the recent stock fraud scandal that had shaken Brighton Island. The scale of the damage was so immense that it rocked the national economy.

Victims emerged not only in Ingrint but also in Scotlin and Aire. Those who had invested their entire fortunes, and even borrowed money to buy stocks, suffered massive losses due to the plummeting stock prices. Many went bankrupt.

Thus far, The Lydon Spectator had focused only on the surface outline of the fraud in its reports. The truth, hidden beneath thousands of printed letters, had yet to appear in print.

Behind this incident was the government—specifically, the Queen. Queen Anne Stuart, benevolent as she was, had intentionally inflated the stock price of a company whose assets were not even properly assessed to resolve Ingrint’s ever-growing debt.

Fake news also abounded. Inflated and spread through yellow journalism, these reports tempted and incited gamblers who sought to change their lives with one strike. Ironically, people believed sensational and low-quality gossip more easily than formal reports published in newspapers.

“Shouldn’t the commoners know that the Queen was involved in this incident? Most of the victims are them,” said Graham.

“That’s a microscopic perspective. Information is a form of capital. The unequal distribution of information is an inevitable phenomenon,” replied Charles Harold, clicking his tongue.

Indeed, the high-ranking nobility, including the great nobles, had stayed clear of this crisis. It was mostly commoners, lower-ranking nobles, and foreigners who had fallen into ruin due to the “unequal distribution of information.” To Charles, who had been in journalism for a long time, this was nothing new.

“Even so,”

“Reality isn’t so simple. You’ll soon learn that what you’re taught in school isn’t everything.”

“Are you referring to the reality where Winchester doesn’t stand as the watchdog behind the King but cleans up after him?”

Graham muttered just loud enough to be heard as he turned his gaze out the window. Charles looked at his son’s face with a complex expression. Indeed, as Graham implied, Winchester was known as “the family that stood behind the King to monitor him.” But that was only part of the larger picture.

In reality, the Marquess family both monitored the King and cleaned up after him. It was this duality—opposing and cooperating with the royal family—that had maintained their power. And this was the true nature of the family that Graham Harold would one day have to face and accept.

Charles Harold, the Marquess of Winchester, firmly cut his son off.

“That’s enough. I’ll handle this issue myself.”

Thus, the debate between Charles and Graham ended.

“…Graham?”

Graham, lost in his own thoughts, suddenly raised his head. His mother, the Marchioness, and his sisters were all staring at him. He coughed lightly and apologized.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“We’re considering advancing your engagement to Freya Spencer.”

Boring.

He thought so once again.

For over twenty years, Graham Harold, the most eligible bachelor in Ingrint and the darling of high society, had never felt anything more than a polite liking toward any woman. Freya Spencer, the precious jewel of the Spencer family, the goddess of beauty, queen of high society, lover of gentlemen, and everyone’s first love, was no different.

At that moment, Charles Harold, the Marquess, entered the drawing room. The Marchioness, pleased by the arrival of someone who could take her side, smiled shyly.

“Charles, please persuade Graham.”

The Marchioness cooed to her husband in a playful tone. Though regarded as a cold-blooded man at work, Charles was kind and warm in the private company of his family.

In this way, the Winchester family was far from typical nobles in their affectionate and harmonious demeanor. Graham mostly appreciated the family’s atmosphere, though he also found such affection uncomfortable when directed at him.

“About what?”

“Freya and Graham, of course. Given all the conditions, she’s the perfect young lady, but he shows no interest at all. And she’s so pretty! How can he not even blink at such beauty? I don’t understand him at all, though I gave birth to him. He’s not even interested in any other young ladies…”

Charles Harold glanced at his wife and son before smirking. He then winked at Graham and said, “Despite rumors that Graham prefers men, they still want to offer their daughter? The Spencer family must be something else, don’t you think, Olivia?”

“Heavens, Charles! How could you say such an irreverent thing?”

Olivia Harold, the Marchioness, screamed in horror.

She had already been suspicious of her son, who had no interest whatsoever in women. Though she had given birth to a stunningly handsome son, he only socialized with men, which made her uneasy.

Graham Harold possessed an unusually striking appearance. His silvery hair, bright as the moon, and delicate features were inherited from his mother, Olivia, while his pale blue eyes and slender physique came from his father, Charles.

‘The Archangel Gabriel incarnate.’ That was the nickname commoners gave the Winchester heir.

However, her son had never used such unworldly beauty to his advantage with women. Instead, he maintained a polite distance, showing only proper courtesy, driving women of high society mad with longing.

Recently, a scandal had even broken out in high society claiming that Graham Harold had “such-and-such” a relationship with a playwright infamous for his homosexuality. It was shocking beyond words. To quell such disgraceful rumors, she was determined to solidify the engagement with the Spencer family.

Boring.

The third time he thought that, Graham impulsively spoke up.

“When this parliamentary session ends, I will go to Newport.”

***