Episode 5: Uncle's Bill

Uncle Bazant looked completely out of place just standing in the ducal house's entrance hall.

　He left a half-step-long, dried muddy footprint on the polished stone floor, and the smell of cheap liquor stung the back of his nose. His clothes were made of decent fabric, but the collar and sleeves were poorly maintained, and only the large stone on his finger looked strangely new. He was dressed like a man whose priorities in life were neatly skewed towards appearances.

　"Didn't you hear me, Skyler? I'm telling you to go back."

　My uncle said that, and then turned his gaze not to me, but to Elisha first.

　"Your Excellency, my niece seems to have come to live with us without permission. Country girls can be troublesome when they have big dreams. I would like to take her in as her guardian."

　The word "take in" sent chills down my spine.

　In my first life, this man always used the same words. He pretended to protect me, but instead kept me confined; he pretended to take care of me, but instead exploited me; he called us family, but only blocked my escape routes. He said the same thing when he tried to use my name as collateral for a loan: "If no one takes care of you, how can a woman survive on her own?"

　But today, I had no intention of listening to that line to the end.

　"Uncle"

　I was a little surprised to find that my own voice sounded calmer than I expected.

　"Last night, I formally entered into a marriage contract with His Excellency the Duke of Valentoire. The guardianship arrangement is no longer valid."

　"Marriage?"

　My uncle's face turned bright red. It wasn't so much anger as it was the color of someone who hadn't anticipated the reaction.

　"Don't be ridiculous. You still have assets under my control—"

　"They were counting me as their asset, not my asset."

　I felt like I heard a sharp crack in the air.

　The gazes of the servants who had been standing by quietly converged. No one spoke. They just watched in silence. That silence was a blessing today.

　Bazant snorted and pulled a stack of papers from his chest pocket.

　"Then the matter is simple. There is a debt that has been passed down from this girl's father's generation. The obligation to repay it rests with the family name. If my niece has become a duchess, all the more reason she should be able to pay it."

　What was handed to me was a stack of promissory notes.

　Yellowed paper. An exaggerated signature. Red wax seal. It looked plausible on the surface. But the moment I saw the top sheet, something chilled me to the core.

　know.

　In my first life, I was almost crushed by this paper. Crying, I said, "This can't be happening," but my uncle, with his alcohol-laden breath, laughed and said, "A document is a document." At that time, I didn't know how to overcome the violence disguised as paperwork.

　Things are different now.

　"please show me"

　I took the stack of papers and moved to the table by the entrance. Elisha didn't stop me. Instead, she stood quietly beside me. She neither ran away nor tried to protect me, but simply stayed where I could see her. I was grateful for that.

　First photo. Date.

　Second one. Stamp.

　Third image. The pressure of the signature.

　I glanced through them one by one and let out a sigh of relief.

　"Uncle, you seem to have rushed to prepare this promissory note."

　"What did you say?"

　"At least the first document is dated three months after my father's death. A deceased person cannot be a guarantor for a new loan."

　"Hmm, that's a minor typo."

　"This isn't just a typographical error. This stamp is also an outdated type that was abolished last year. If you submit it to the Board of Accounts, it will be returned immediately."

　Bazant's cheek twitched.

　I put down the second one and picked up the third one.

　"And then there's this signature. My father didn't draw the rightward stroke this long. He had a wrist injury, so in his later years it was always short. We can compare it to countless old documents from his estate."

　"There's no way I'd remember something like that—"

　"Because we were family."

　When I said that, my uncle's eyes darted around.

　This person is the most vulnerable to the word "family." Because they think they're the only one who can use it as a shield.

　"Furthermore,

　I turned the last piece of paper over.

　"The witness section on this promissory note has two names written in the same handwriting. If you show it to the clerk, they'll see it immediately."

　The atmosphere in the entrance hall is slowly changing.

　The servants, who were intimidated just moments ago by the shouting of their family members, are now watching their uncle's feet. When someone's footing begins to crumble, others notice before they even realize it themselves.

　Bazant reached out to snatch the stack of papers back, but before he could, a hand in a black glove stepped in front of me.

　It was Elisha.

　"I'll take over from there."

　His low voice wasn't loud, yet it carried well to the corners of the hall.

　"He brought a forged promissory note to the Duke of Valentoire's household and made an unjust demand for money from our lady. This is a rather disgraceful act that cannot be dismissed as a mere prank."

　My uncle flinched for a moment, but then his face contorted in disgust.

　"Th-this is a matter between family members—"

　"Unfortunately, as of last night, she is my spouse. We are no longer even family."

　That way of putting it made my heart skip a beat.

　It's a contract. It's an act. I know. I know, yet the words still reach me directly.

　Elisha glanced briefly at the butler.

　"The legal officer"

　"They are already waiting in another room."

　This time, my uncle's expression really did change.

　"teeth……?"

　"I heard shouting from early in the morning, so I thought it might be necessary and had someone call me."

　The ducal family's thorough preparation is frightening. No, perhaps I should say it's reassuring now.

　Soon, a legal officer in a black robe emerged from the next room. He was not young, and his face was drier than parchment. As soon as he saw my uncle, he gave him an emotionless stare.

　"I'd like to hear your side of the story."

　"No, that was a misunderstanding."

　"Whether it's a misunderstanding or not can be determined by looking at the wording and the submission process."

　His escape routes were being blocked one by one. My uncle must have sensed it. His breathing became shallow, and his ring-covered hands began to move restlessly.

　"Skyler, even you...! Are you going to betray your own family?!"

　"Please don't use the word 'sell' so casually."

　My own voice was colder than I expected.

　"It was always us who were almost sold off."

　My uncle's mouth opened and then closed.

　He looked like he'd never heard that before. Of course not. He couldn't have expected me to reply in that tone.

　Elisha did not allow any further emotional exchange.

　"Lord Bazant, you have two choices today. First, you will be formally questioned before the legal officer. Second, you will withdraw your false claims and leave all the relevant documents behind. Whichever you choose, you will not be able to contact the lady of the house without my permission in the future."

　"What..."

　"There is no third one."

　With just that, control of the hall completely shifted.

　My uncle gritted his teeth and looked back and forth between me and Elisha. He knew that if he made a fuss now, it would all be over this time.

　In the end, Bazant slammed some of the papers onto the table and spat them out.

　"...Remember this."

　"I will never forget."

　I answered.

　"This time for sure"

　My uncle wasn't grabbed by the arm by the legal officer, but he was led to another room under supervision, under the guise of being guided. Only the lingering smell of alcohol in the hall remained, like the last vestiges of a storm.

　I finally exhaled after it had quieted down. I realized I had been tensing my shoulders more than I thought. My fingertips tingled.

　"Can you stand?"

　When asked by the person beside me, I nodded.

　"it's okay"

　"A person who is okay doesn't clench their fist like that."

　When I was told, I looked at my hands. I was clenching them so tightly that my nails were digging into my palms.

　Even though I tried to relax, I couldn't relax immediately.

　"...I didn't want to lose."

　"We didn't lose today."

　"But it's not over yet. Even if we get rid of my uncle, the people behind him are a different story."

　Maribel. Lafont. The House of Accountants. The stream of papers leading to that execution platform.

　When I looked up, Elisha nodded briefly.

　"So I'll hit the next one."

　"yes"

　The moment she returned it, the butler appeared with a new visitor card. Seeing the card he offered, Elisha's eyebrows twitched slightly.

　"Who is it?"

　"Just as the lady's uncle was leaving, a messenger arrived from the Count's household."

　Earl family.

　A bad feeling chills down my throat.

　I immediately understood when I saw the family name written on the tag.

　It's the Maribel family.

　The messenger apparently left with only the overly polite words, "I offer my deepest condolences for your uncle's distress." His concern was evident, but it was far too soon.

　In other words, the message has already reached them. Bazant, having fallen, is now looking for his next move.

　That evening, at the count's mansion in the southern district of the royal capital, Maribel was smiling softly in front of a light pink tea.

　"Well, I failed."

　I removed my silk gloves and picked up the hastily written note from my uncle. The soiled paper felt out of place in that room.

　Maribel glanced at just one line and immediately dropped it into the censer. The paper quietly curled up and shriveled, turning black.

　"Well, I guess there's no other way."

　The maid standing opposite held her breath.

　Maribel tilted her head, looking at her reflection in the tea, with a troubled yet amused expression.

　"Shall we move the schedule up then?"

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