Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 91

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 91. The End of Merelrof
The butler poured water into Ian’s glass while keeping a careful eye on his master. The atmosphere was so frigid it seemed impossible that a guest had been invited at all.
Everyone residing in the Merelrof Manor watched only for the Count’s mood, yet Ian and the man he’d brought—Berik—showed no discomfort whatsoever.
“Wow. That smell is absolutely incredible.”
Berik sniffed the air enthusiastically, savoring the aroma of meat to his heart’s content. Marquis Merelrof asked in an irritated tone.
“Count Ian. Why on earth did you bring this fellow?”
“You’ve likely seen him before. This is Berik—the man I rely on most these days and entrust with my affairs. Since you extended a dinner invitation, I brought him along to introduce him.”
There had been no explicit instruction to come alone, so what was the problem? At Ian’s seemingly oblivious smile, Marquis Merelrof’s irritation flared. If only he’d known, he would have spat in the man’s soup.
“Let us dine.”
“Yes, sir.”
At the Count’s word, the butler began earnestly carrying out dishes. Indeed, the saying held true—even if the wealthy went bankrupt, their legacy lasted three generations. Though the estate itself was on the verge of collapse, the Manor’s affairs remained intact.
Ian smiled upon seeing the Gula dish.
“I’m delighted you’ve developed a taste for Gula.”
“Yes, I acknowledge it’s my delicacy. I hear you permitted the estate villagers to trade in Gula. Now those common folk below will know this taste too?”
“Good things should be shared. You needn’t thank me. Thanks to you, I was able to secure part of the tribute funds. Please accept this as my gratitude for that.”
The moment Ian took a sip of water, Berik began, as if given a signal, to “devour” the food as he’d put it. He ate as though he meant to empty Merelrof’s entire storehouse. The clinking of Berik’s utensils continued relentlessly.
“…There are limits to vulgarity. Really.”
The Count rebuked him openly, but Berik paid it no mind. His attitude was clear—you bark, I’ll eat. Ian handed his own bowl to Berik and began speaking.
“Since you’ve invited me to dinner, I’ve prepared a gift in return. You remember Clark, yes? The slave you gave me last time.”
At Ian’s words, the Countess’s knife paused. It was only a brief moment, but only Ian noticed.
“I intend to return him. Had I known such a significant transaction would occur, I wouldn’t have accepted him in the first place.”
“Hmm. Well, if that’s your intention, I won’t stop you.”
“Since there’s no deed, you can simply take him. And I have one proposal. I’d like you to actively encourage the estate villagers to consume Gula from our territory.”
The Count frowned. If that happened, wouldn’t Merelrof’s money simply flow to the neighboring territory? He set down his utensils and shot back.
“Count Ian, unless the earth splits open, we’ll be neighbors for life. So how can you make such a significant decision regarding Gula trade permissions entirely on your own? And immediately after conducting business with us!”
“I don’t quite understand. We didn’t enter Merelrof to sell goods. Your estate villagers came of their own accord wanting to purchase. How could I refuse them?”
Wasn’t that precisely why I confirmed economic autonomy once more? Ian answered with his arms crossed. He did this to convey his own displeasure.
Of course, he harbored no real ill will, but one must take such measures for negotiations to be worthwhile.
“And it was precisely because of our transaction that I could permit the trade. It signified that the frozen relationship between us had thawed. I thought you’d find meaning in that too, but it seems I was mistaken.”
‘That bastard’s mouth….’
The Count barely suppressed his boiling rage and regained his composure.
“So I understand the significance, but the timing feels off. I almost misunderstood. It looks like I permitted trade to the villagers the moment I bought Gula.”
“That’s precisely why I’m making this request. I’d like you to encourage the villagers to consume it, but refrain from trading raw Gula. We’ll enforce restrictions too, but frankly, we lack the manpower. Supply and demand are intimately connected—controlling only one side won’t suffice.”
This was why Ian had accepted the dinner invitation.
Laying groundwork by focusing on the act of “buying” rather than “selling” raw Gula. If the Count were dead a month from now, that would be one thing, but it was safer to prepare for the possibility that he’d still be alive.
Of course, it was also partly to fill Berik’s belly. His activity level was so high that feeding costs were unbearable, but occasionally doing this seemed like it might work out.
As long as the Count didn’t have a stroke.
“One more bowl here!”
“Please wait a moment.”
“Fill it generously. Don’t cut it into small pieces.”
Berik held up an empty plate and made a request to the Butler. The Count frowned at this but couldn’t bring himself to refuse, so he simply drank more wine.
“…You’re drinking too much.”
“Fine then. I’ll have word sent to the estate that raw Gula is a prohibited item. Would that work? You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
The Count cleanly ignored his Countess’s words and issued a warning to me. The message was clear: he would cooperate fully, but if I sold raw Gula before cultivating it at the Manor, he wouldn’t let it slide. I glanced at the Countess and nodded.
“Of course, Count.”
“Then finish up and get going. I’m sorry, but I have a mountain of work piling up. Countess, please entertain Count Ian.”
Unable to contain his impatience, he couldn’t continue the meal. It was remarkably rude behavior, but I didn’t mind. In fact, a meal without the Count would be far more comfortable. The Countess nodded as if accepting the task, and he pushed back from the table and left.
Bang!
“Phew.”
As the door closed, the Countess unconsciously sighed and pressed her forehead. She didn’t act this way when there were outside guests, but lately, perhaps due to the medicine, her nerves seemed increasingly frayed.
“Are you alright, Countess?”
“Of course. I’m eating well enough, aren’t I?”
But contrary to her words, her appetite seemed to have vanished as she set down her cutlery. With a glance, she dismissed the Butler and all the servants from the dining room.
Click.
As the door closed, Berik ate with even more gusto. I casually inquired about the situation.
“How are you getting on? Are you using the cosmetics you took last time?”
One could never be too careful. Just as Count Derga had possessed a mana stone brooch, perhaps Marquis Merelrof did as well. Understanding my meaning, the Countess smiled faintly and affirmed it.
“Yes. I used it today as well. Don’t I look better?”
“Perhaps so. To be honest, I’m not a good judge of such things.”
“I heard you brought Clark with you.”
“He’s outside. He’s worth more than gold coins.”
The meaning was clear—I was sending him for her sake. Certainly, if Marquis Merelrof died, the position of estate lord would become vacant, and from my perspective as a neighboring lord, it was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to miss. Our interests aligned perfectly, but this was unmistakably a gesture of goodwill.
The Countess tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment.
“I see. Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“Still, it doesn’t feel right to accept something for nothing, and you seemed quite interested in my ring last time.”
The amber gemstone created by the mysterious Alchemist. She glanced upward as she murmured.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you that much at least.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Will you tell me if I ask? Why do you pay such attention to the Alchemist’s failed gem?”
It was simple curiosity. I pulled out the necklace hanging around my neck and showed it to her casually.
“Actually, I have something similar.”
“My goodness. A necklace.”
“It seems to come from the same Alchemist, but I’ve had it since childhood, so I’m quite curious about many things.”
The Countess leaned in closer, intrigued, to examine the necklace. It was certainly the same as her ring.
That was when it happened.
Click.
A servant entered but stopped short, standing rigidly in the doorway. The distance between me and the Countess was too close. No one in the dining room was doing anything suspicious, but the servant unconsciously cast his eyes downward.
“I came to change the dishes for you.”
“Right. I was about to call for you anyway. Change out his plate.”
The Countess waved her hand, saying it was fine. Berik had gotten sauce all over the place while eating. The servant hesitantly tidied up the table, bowed once more, and left the room.
“Are the guests still eating?”
“Did they starve for days? Why are they eating so much?”
“Right? Goodness, we’ll run out of meat at this rate.”
The servants’ movements became frantic in the preparation room attached to the dining hall. The servant who had brought the dishes stood blankly, as if something was amiss. A colleague, unable to bear it, tapped her shoulder.
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you moving?”
“Oh? Yes, yes. I should move.”
“Did you see a monster in there?”
“…It’s not a monster, but… were the Countess and Count Ian always that close? I thought they barely saw each other.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“When I went in… the Countess was touching Count Ian’s neck.”
Clang!
So startled, the colleague dropped a plate. At the same time, every servant in the kitchen stopped what they were doing and turned around. They all went pale, their mouths gaping open, and immediately surrounded the servant who had made the problematic remark, warning her.
“Watch your tongue!”
“She must be out of her mind.”
“If the master finds out, we’re all dead.”
It wouldn’t just be Lady Lien who would die—if unlucky, the servants wouldn’t escape bloodshed either. Besides, had there ever been anyone here who didn’t receive the Countess’s help when being beaten?
“Stop talking nonsense. Close your eyes and cover your ears.”
“Yes, I understand….”
“Forget it from your memory. Remember when you were beaten by the Count last time and the Countess took the blows instead, then lay ill for three days straight? If it weren’t for her, both of you would have lost a limb and been cast out.”
They all steeled their resolve for silence, calming their pounding hearts. Honestly, when a husband acts like that, one’s eyes can’t help but wander. Moreover, Ian was their age and had risen to the position of family head from commoner origins—he had ability. And above all, his appearance was extraordinarily striking.
‘I’m going crazy. Really.’
A silent storm seemed to blow through the Manor. They all scattered hurriedly, and soon the Butler standing outside the door also gave up on entering and turned away.
Creak.
Tap, tap, tap.
The Butler’s heavy footsteps crept into the darkness of the corridor. It was toward the direction of the Count’s study.
‘It seems Ian is trying to seduce the Countess to do something about Merelrof….’
But was there a way to inform the Count without causing maximum harm to the Countess? The Butler exhaled deeply and leaned his forehead against the wall. A thin line of light was seeping through the gap in the dining hall door in the distance.
“Butler?”
Then, a servant called out to him. The title “Butler” jolted him awake like cold water. He had been worrying needlessly.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“No. That’s all. Go help with serving the guests.”
“Yes. Understood.”
As the Butler passed the servant, he steeled his resolve. He certainly felt gratitude and human affection toward the Countess, but before that, he was the loyal Butler of the Merelrof household.
Knock, knock.
“Master. I’m coming in for a moment.”
As the door opened, the Count, who had been smoking a cigarette, turned his head in puzzlement. His gaze asked whether Ian had left.
* * *
And the next day.
Ian greeted the morning as usual and left his bedroom. There was nothing different—it was a peaceful day like any other. The weather seemed to have become slightly warmer, unusual for winter.
“Where is Berik?”
“He’s lying down with an upset stomach.”
“That fellow is something else. Tsk.”
I sipped my tea in the dining hall, clicking my tongue. Was it because Berik was absent? The Manor itself felt unusually quiet. Romandro was sleeping in, and most of the Cheonryeo Tribe spent their days at the observation posts near the border whenever they had the chance.
They were constantly going off to have their fortunes read by the stars.
Tap, tap, tap!
Boom! Crash!
“What is that?”
“I’m not sure.”
Hena, who had been pouring tea, paused at the commotion outside. A servant came rushing in as if he might tumble over, making a fuss.
“Count Ian! Count Ian!”
“You’re quite energetic this morning.”
“A, a, a letter has arrived from Merelrof!”
“That place is really, truly….”
“H, he’s dead, they say?”
At the servant’s fragmented words, I furrowed my brow. The servant caught his breath, stammering as he continued.
“Marquis Merelrof is dead.”
“What do you mean? We had dinner together just yesterday.”
Could sleep apnea have come faster than expected?
But the servant’s answer was different.
“Clark stabbed the Marquis to death.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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