Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 92

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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 92. Settling Accounts
The crisis erupted the moment Ian departed from the Merelrof estate. The butler blocked the Countess’s path as she attempted to drag her weary body toward her bedchamber. Lady Lien’s brow furrowed as she regarded him.
“What is it?”
“The Count requests your presence upstairs.”
“…Why?”
An ominous premonition gnawed at her—an ill-favored intuition. This was no casual summons, but one that had accumulated over days. Was it the butler’s rigid expression that unsettled her? Lady Lien remained rooted in place, motionless. As the candle wax dripped from the lamp, the butler pressed further.
“Madam.”
“Wait. I’m thinking. Don’t you know why he’s summoning me?”
The butler exhaled after a prolonged silence. His breath echoed through the unusually quiet corridor—colder somehow than the frigid wind outside.
“Butler. Tell me.”
“The master has learned of the relationship between Count Ian and yourself.”
“…How?”
The Countess’s face drained of color. The answer was entirely unexpected. Witnessing her lack of denial, the butler’s heart blackened with despair.
He would have preferred she deny it outright, speaking with her usual confident tone. But her demeanor confirmed what the servants had witnessed.
“Why would you do such a thing, Madam…?”
“No, this is… this can’t be real…”
“You know the master’s temperament. You’ve made a grave mistake.”
“That’s exactly why! Exactly why!”
Yet Lady Lien had misinterpreted his meaning entirely. Not an affair—but a discovered assassination attempt. Her body trembled violently, her mind emptying of all thought.
‘What do I do? If the Count doesn’t die? Then I…’
If the Count lived, she would perish. Even if her breath continued, she would remain shackled to this place for eternity.
This was an inescapable truth. And in this moment, only Ian could save her. The Countess bolted down the corridor.
Boom! Crash!
“Madam!”
“Damn it, Ian! Ian!”
“W-what is the matter?”
“Bring a carriage—no, a horse! Count Ian!”
“Madam! You cannot!”
The Countess tumbled down the stairs, shrieking. Servants organizing their tasks rushed toward the commotion. One attempted to help her up, but she violently swatted his hand away, screaming.
“Bring me a horse!”
“Madam, you mustn’t do this!”
“Silence! I’m facing death—how else should I act? Get out of my way!”
Crash! Clang!
Decorative pieces in the corridor toppled and shattered. The Countess desperately rushed toward the main entrance, her bruised knees screaming in agony.
But she understood.
If she stopped now, it would truly be the end.
Whoosh!
“Madam. I cannot permit further disturbance.”
Then, a knight seized her arm—one of the three knights stationed at the estate. The Countess’s face was utterly drained of blood as she gasped for breath.
“P-please, let me… let me…”
“What in the world is this…?”
“Countess, are you alright?”
“Everyone return to your quarters. Until I give permission, no one is to leave their rooms.”
“Disperse!”
The servants approached hesitantly, worried about the Countess, but retreated at the sharp commands of the Butler and Knight. They all hurried down the corridor with their heads bowed as low as possible.
“Let go! I said let go! How dare you lay hands on me?”
“My apologies, Countess. But if you continue like this, matters will only worsen.”
“Aaahhh! No! No!”
At the Butler’s signal, the Knight hoisted her up. Her damaged legs were plainly visible beneath her skirt, but there was no help for it. Lady Lien thrashed and shrieked, her screams echoing throughout the mansion and reaching Clark’s ears as well.
“…Countess?”
Ian had brought him here with the intention of handing him over, but Clark had never received that message. He simply sat in the old servants’ storage room within the Merelrof mansion, eating his gruel. Ian had already left the estate, but with the Countess’s commotion, no one paid him any mind.
Creak.
Clark walked down the familiar corridor and looked up toward the stairs. He had lived here for years. He knew the mansion’s layout with his eyes closed, and he was well aware that most of Lady Lien’s screams were coming from the master bedroom.
Creeeeak.
With each step, the wooden floor groaned eerily. He eventually climbed to the floor where the Count and Countess’s bedroom was located, and there he encountered the Butler and Knight standing guard.
“Clark?”
“Return to your quarters.”
“But the Countess…”
“I said return.”
Boom! Bang!
At that moment, a dull sound came from within. Clark rushed forward without thinking, but the Knight’s light gesture blocked his path.
“Lien!”
Slam!
Upon hearing that voice, the bedroom that had been in constant turmoil fell suddenly silent. The door opened, and the Count appeared, his eyes bloodshot and inflamed.
“…Clark?”
“Ah…”
The demon drenched in sweat looked like nothing else. When the Count heard Lady Lien crying out Clark’s name, the blood drained completely from his face.
“You wretched woman, how many men have you been playing with? Ian and Clark both, what in the hell…?”
“It’s not true… I’ve told you it’s not true so many times…!”
“Then why did you call out Clark’s name!”
Crack!
The Count mercilessly seized the woman by her hair. He looked back and forth between her and Clark, his face twisted into a cruel smile. Then he turned, leaving the door open as if beckoning Clark inside. Lady Lien, being dragged along, stared at Clark with tears streaming down her face.
‘Run.’
That was what she was telling him. But, but…
Creeeeak.
Clark was drawn forward and entered the bedroom after her. The Butler wore a worried expression, while the Knight remained impassive. The Count lit a cigarette and issued his command.
“Anyone who leaves this room without my permission will be cut down where they stand.”
“…Understood.”
“Let no one disturb us.”
Slam!
The bedroom door locked firmly shut. Tonight, neither the woman nor the slave would leave alive. When the sun rose, one of their blood would stain the wooden floor.
The Count whipped both of them with all his might, sweat pouring down his body. The more Clark tried to protect the Countess, the more strength flowed into his arms.
Crack! Crack!
“Ah!”
When the long whip finally traced up the Countess’s neck and lashed across her cheek, Clark felt the thread of reason snap. His body moved of its own accord, beyond his will. He seized the letter opener lying on the table and struck the Count’s nape.
“Aaaaagh!”
The Butler and Knight standing outside turned their heads at the unfamiliar scream. Was it Clark? They wondered, but the Count’s order to not interfere kept the door firmly guarded.
“Ugh….”
The Countess’s sobs echoed intermittently.
And then, finally, the darkness receded and the sun rose.
The door that seemed it would remain sealed forever opened, and the first to emerge was Lady Lien, drenched in blood—whether it belonged to the Count or to her, none could tell.
The Countess moved slowly, her fingertips trailing along the wall.
Her trace continued, faint though it was.
* * *
Creak.
The moment I stepped down from the carriage, I surveyed the mansion. The shocking atmosphere from the Count’s death hung heavy in the air. Though perhaps I felt it that way because I myself was experiencing it.
The news didn’t seem to have reached the town yet….
“Count Ian? Welcome.”
The Servant who had been waiting for me walked ahead nervously. I climbed the stairs, pretending not to notice the pathetically shattered decorations in the corridor.
Before the bedroom in question, three Knights with swords, the Butler, and several Servants gathered in confusion, discussing something awkwardly.
“Count Ian has arrived.”
“Ah.”
The Butler seemed absent-minded, unable to offer proper greetings upon seeing me. Since I had no need for pleasantries either, I simply gestured with my hand and entered.
“You’ve come?”
“Good heavens. Countess.”
The sight was maddening. The plush, soft ivory-colored rug was soaked with blood, and the room was nearly devoid of anything intact. But what was most appalling was Lady Lien sitting on the sofa.
“Please, sit. Despite the state of things.”
“What happened? How did this….”
The Countess’s dress was the same as from last night’s dinner. Whether she had merely wiped away the blood with a damp cloth, streaks of blood remained scattered across her pale skin.
“As you can see, it’s been quite chaotic.”
“What of the Count? Is he dead?”
“The doctor is examining his corpse in the inner bedroom. Clark was being whipped when he seized the letter opener and stabbed him in the neck.”
She exhaled cigarette smoke and murmured. In just one night, in the span of time the moon hung in the sky, the world had changed. I pressed my forehead and peered inside.
‘This is absurd.’
What was the reason for smuggling medicine from Hawan and devising this plan? To evade legal punishment. Whether for the Countess or for those who conspired and participated with her.
“Count Ian. I offer my greetings. I am Puulu, one of the Three Knights of Merelrof.”
I turned my head at the Unknown Man’s greeting. He was a man with coarse brown hair, and the way the Countess looked up at him was far from pleasant.
“Did you send the letter?”
“I did. There is something I needed to confirm.”
“Confirm? With me?”
Ian furrowed his brow as if bewildered. The Countess merely rubbed out her cigarette on the table, her expression weary.
“We are sworn to loyalty to Marquis Merelrof. It is our duty and mission to clarify the circumstances of our lord’s death. To punish all those responsible for the Marquis’s death will be the final mission of we three knights.”
Look at these fools.
Ian lifted his head with his arms crossed.
“And?”
“What is your relationship with Lady Lien Merelof?”
“…What?”
Under normal circumstances, it would have made sense, but Ian felt his thoughts grind to a halt. They said Clark had killed him—were they suspecting his involvement?
But why was the question phrased like that?
“These men suspect Count Ian and me of impropriety.”
“Pfft!”
At the Countess’s words, Berik burst into laughter. Yet the three knights whom he had summoned showed no reaction, not even blinking. Ian let out a hollow laugh and pressed his forehead.
‘What nonsense…’
“Where is Clark?”
“He is being held in the underground dungeon.”
“Bring him here.”
“That is impossible.”
The knight flatly refused Ian’s command. His brow furrowed involuntarily. The Countess, listening beside him, issued the order again in a languid voice.
“Bring Clark.”
“Until the full circumstances of this matter are clarified, I cannot obey even your orders.”
“This is the situation, Count Ian.”
With the Marquis dead, she should have been the rightful administrator of the estate until the next Marquis was appointed, but the knights’ resistance had complicated matters considerably.
Ian scanned the knights up and down and muttered.
“What circumstances? Your master’s wretched nature brought this karma upon himself. You incompetent fools who could do nothing while your master was dying—your mouths are all that work.”
I could understand why they were acting this way.
Even in Bratz alone, countless factions had rushed to seize Derga’s position. Mollin and Erika, and behind them Prince Gail, myself, Cheonrye, Prince Marib and Romandro keeping watch…
“Moreover, to treat a concerned neighbor who rushed here with such disrespect—there is no courtesy to be found. Fortunately, we have an Imperial Advisor on our side, so I shall request a notarized document regarding this matter.”
Ian immediately gestured to the Countess.
“When you reorganize the estate, I hope you will dismiss these idiots. Their cost-effectiveness is abysmal.”
“Count Ian!”
Clang!
As the knight cried out in protest, it was Berik who stepped forward.
“Quiet. Why do you keep yapping?”
He answered with a sword swing rather than words.
Ian looked around at the dead Marquis’s corpse, the Countess, and the knights, contemplating. If things went wrong and these men pushed aside the Countess and the Marquis’s younger brother to seize the estate, matters could become quite troublesome.
“Berik.”
“Yes?”
Much like how Ian’s presence was a thorn in the side of the imperial palace.
“I think we need to clean this up.”
“Here?”
Berik pointed his sword at the knights. As if to say that what needed to be sorted out were those three bastards’ heads.

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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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