My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 73

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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 73
Agnes had heard that Steffan was close enough to visit Laberose’s domain several times, so she sent him a letter directly to his residence.
If a reply came, she’d thought of going to meet him in person.
But even though it was merely a letter inquiring after his well-being, the response that came back from Liter was terribly cold.
[I understand that the Count of Laberose and I have had a falling out and grown distant. I would therefore appreciate it if you did not concern yourself with our affairs.]
After reading the letter, Agnes turned to Alfred in bewilderment.
“What happened?”
Alfred shook his head and denied it.
“I’ve no knowledge of it, miss. I recall that letters were exchanged sporadically right up until your father’s condition worsened. Steffan even attended the funeral.”
“It seems like he wants to avoid being connected to us.”
The reason became clear thanks to Rupert, who had been investigating in Kalburn.
Steffan was the very person who had been gambling alongside her father.
The timing when he began his self-imposed seclusion matched the period of her father’s addiction.
Unlike her father, Steffan seemed to be managing relatively quietly, but he too had experienced such severe cognitive decline from excessive drinking that conversation with him had become difficult.
“So Liter thinks it happened because of my father.”
Rupert nodded gravely.
“That would appear to be the case.”
Now Agnes could finally understand what Kesenor had been saying.
His speculation about how Romaril would prove useful to an administrator.
If one desired, a single drug could bring down a troublesome rival entirely through self-destruction.
No blood need be spilled, no dirty work required by one’s own hand.
All that Count Valdemar needed to do was one thing.
Merely to slip a small amount of Romaril into the food his target consumed.
He probably hadn’t even done that himself, but ordered a subordinate to manage it.
Once judgment became clouded, one slipped easily into gambling and the like; add drink to that mix, and those around him would attribute his transformation to its effects.
The man himself wouldn’t even realize he was falling apart.
To be able to engineer social isolation and ruin with such ease and efficiency was almost elegant in its cruelty.
‘Did he cultivate that forest for the children because of Romaril as well?’
Even if it truly had been done for the children’s sake, it wouldn’t have mattered.
There was nowhere safer than the back garden of Valdemar Mansion anyway.
It was a method both cold and brutally precise.
Was this how administrators were meant to operate—juggling multiple gains at once?
Agnes pushed down the bitter feeling rising in her chest.
Several days later.
Kesenor informed her of the results of the Tracking Magic he had placed on the glass vial.
“It has been moved to Valdemar Mansion.”
“As expected.”
“Are you well with this?”
“It’s hardly surprising. I’d anticipated as much already.”
She wasn’t forcing indifference for show.
Agnes genuinely felt nothing.
Not even a spark of anger.
When she thought of the Valdemar household, only a parched and desiccated emotion drifted through her chest—like drought-stricken earth.
‘Something feels off…’
Remembering her usual self, one whose emotions ran vivid and deep, she sensed something was missing.
Since Agnes didn’t wish to show this to others, she merely lifted the corners of her mouth in a smile.
And at last, today.
Aseir arrived, saying he had come to share what he’d discovered about the Count of Valdemar’s house.
“Aseir, I hope you’ve been well?”
“Reasonably enough. It’s been a while, miss.”
Aseir’s cheeks were puffed out, and he merely nodded, his response rather curt.
Kesenor reproved him upon seeing this.
“Aseir, don’t be so petty. Pouting because your schemes didn’t work is disrespectful.”
At that, Agnes recalled something that had happened before.
‘Ah, I told the Duke about what Aseir had done, didn’t I…’
Perhaps Kesenor had reprimanded Aseir severely upon learning of it.
Feeling apologetic, Agnes shrank her shoulders.
“Oh… did I cause you trouble by mentioning things I shouldn’t have?”
“Cause trouble, you say?”
Without turning his head, though his lips formed the shape of “This youngster thinks she did just that?”—somehow Kesenor saw right through her and shot her a sidelong glance.
Aseir pressed his lips together and pretended not to hear.
There was something playful in his expression, so Agnes simply laughed it off.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem genuinely angry with me.
Inside Kesenor’s room.
Three people sat on the sofa, while Rupert naturally stood behind Agnes.
Ordinarily Rupert would have taken a seat as well, but today Aseir had come as a guest.
Since Rupert was a servant, he naturally remained standing—until Aseir glanced up at him and asked softly.
“Why aren’t you sitting?”
“Well, that is…”
As Agnes looked between them in discomfort, Aseir shrugged.
It seemed Aseir already knew Rupert.
Agnes suspected he must have seen him during a visit to the Mage Tower with Amy.
“Just sit, please. There’s a man standing before me who severed a dragon’s neck, so I’m rather terrified.”
It was considerate of him, but did he really need to phrase it so elaborately?
In any case, Agnes brightened and had Rupert sit beside her.
Kesenor’s eyebrows twitched slightly at the sight.
‘Hmm, now look at that.’
The corners of Aseir’s mouth rose unbidden as he caught it.
His superior’s keen gaze had grown sharper, though not without reason.
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, you mean?’
He could easily guess the intent, but he had no intention of taking it at face value.
‘After seeing something like that, how could he not think that way?’
Kesenor, the Mage Tower Master and marquis, was bothered by a mere servant.
‘Surely he isn’t in earnest about Miss Agnes?’
That said, one couldn’t deny the two looked striking sitting side by side.
Rupert had the frame of a knight, and with his upright, dignified features, he was a classically handsome man who turned heads wherever he went.
‘Honestly, Rupert’s looks surpass the Mage Tower Master’s.’
But servant or not, that was all he was.
There was no way Kesenor, whose confidence had curdled into arrogance, would see such a man as a rival.
‘The reason’s obvious enough.’
Unlike Kesenor, Aseir, who had his share of romantic experience, grasped his superior’s true feelings at once.
‘That’s exactly how it is, isn’t it? When there’s even just a man nearby—servant, slave, anyone—suddenly you notice him.’
Would this peculiar man actually end up courting Miss Agnes?
At first, Agnes’s appearance had startled him—how could one with no magical talent enter the bloodline of Selesta?—but if he kept providing entertainment like this, Aseir would welcome it gladly.
‘Let him court her all he likes. The children can come from somewhere else.’
Either way, if he could only tease Kesenor, that was reward enough.
And gods knew how busy and tiresome things had been lately—between Mage Tower duties and investigating the Valdemar matter.
As he recalled how he’d been rushing about day and night, tears nearly pricked his eyes.
The man was so heartless that even the smallest weakness seemed desperately needed.
Moreover, thanks to his frequent visits to Laberose Mansion, Aseir had pieced together roughly what was happening.
Agnes possessed “something.”
He couldn’t say exactly what, but it seemed not only Kesenor but other non-human species coveted her too.
‘Then it’s better if that man has her.’
Subtly taking Kesenor’s side, Aseir sipped his tea in silence.
“Where shall I begin? There’s quite a lot that should interest you.”
Agnes then opened her mouth, her face thoughtful.
“I want to know what happened to Count Valdemar’s older brother.”
That was one thing Agnes had struggled to uncover despite repeated investigation.
* * *
Kavas, the capital of the Cardius Empire.
The city that had held its ground for a thousand years displayed eternal abundance indifferent to the passage of time.
Beyond the thousand-year-old walls that rose above, a dazzling golden city gleamed.
Every building was fashioned of pure white marble that reflected the sun’s light in blinding splendor, and the eaves and pillars were even gilded.
The roads were broad enough for two carriages to pass, yet not a speck of dust marred them, as if they had never been used.
Obsessive cleanliness.
Trash and filth that would be common elsewhere found no tolerance here.
Moreover, even the horses strictly necessary for travel were nowhere in sight.
If power was needed, magic sufficed.
If dirt needed clearing, magic would do that as well.
Each year, numerous mages were dispatched to Kavas from the five Mage Towers that guarded the north.
They had unleashed everything they learned throughout their lives to forge a city of dazzling brilliance, immaculate cleanliness, and perfect convenience.
As a result, Purification Magic circulated across the entire city, eliminating even a speck of dust, and carriages moved not by horse but by Magic itself.
In such a place, there could be no quarter where the filthy and wretched poor might set foot.
They moved only within the darkest shadows, tending to the spaces where Magic could not reach.
This place existed solely for the Emperor—the sun descended upon the earth.
The heart of Kavas.
Where the straight, radiating roads converged.
The Imperial City, Cadelion.
When sunlight poured down, it seemed as though another sun had risen there itself.
The Imperial City too was cloaked in pure white marble, yet what adorned it was no common gold leaf.
The railings and window frames, even the edges of the walls—they were gold itself, utterly unalloyed.
Herbart von Valdemar, Count Valdemar, gazed out the window at the thousand-year empire’s majesty with unmoved indifference.
The letter he had been reading moments before crumpled in his hand with a faint, anguished sound.
“Difficult, isn’t it.”

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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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