My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 83

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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 83
“Indeed. However ignorant I may be of worldly affairs, I am not so foolish as to sign documents declaring economic self-destruction. And surely the Valdemar House could not be unaware of such a fact.”
“Was that not the case with the other creditors as well?”
The Crown Prince appeared to be listening with indifference, yet he clearly understood the details of Agnes’s lawsuit.
Suppressing her satisfaction, Agnes shook her head and replied.
“No, Your Highness. At that time, the debt we carried could have been repaid by selling both the mansion and our fiefdom. The reason we did not was that we wished to endure, if only until my younger siblings had grown. Would I then sign a contract where the interest alone would exceed the principal, merely to gain two or three years? That would be absurd.”
Agnes glanced sideways at Valdemar.
His expression remained unchanged.
At least the Countess Valdemar showed some emotion.
Agnes presented as evidence a past moment she had never doubted—when the Countess had shown her kindness.
“Most importantly, two years ago, the Countess Valdemar was gracious enough to employ me as a tutor to the Valdemar household. At that time, the tax revenue from our fiefdom barely covered the interest payments. After paying those, there would be nothing left to feed my siblings.”
Even if the Countess’s true intentions had been to mock her, it mattered little.
On the surface it appeared as kind consideration—and that very appearance would now prove how unreasonable this contract truly was.
“It makes no sense that the lady who pitied me and showed me such kindness would later write such a harsh contract.”
At this, the Crown Prince tapped his fingers on the desk and regarded Valdemar askance.
“Count Valdemar. Do you wish to present a defense?”
Then Valdemar, who had been utterly motionless until now, let out a brief, scornful laugh.
“It is nothing but conjecture. Hardly worth refuting.”
“You will not defend yourself, then?”
“That is correct.”
The Crown Prince turned Valdemar’s own words back to Agnes.
“So it seems. Do you have any further evidence?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I do.”
Agnes received a box containing evidence from Rupert, who stood behind her, and presented it forward.
The Secretary at once delivered it to the Crown Prince.
Yet the Crown Prince was not looking at the evidence itself, but rather at Rupert, who stood in the attendant’s place behind Agnes.
His gaze was searching, probing.
But since Rupert kept his head lowered, it was difficult to see much.
The Crown Prince soon withdrew his gaze and nodded with an inscrutable smile.
“Very well. Open it.”
The Secretary opened the box and displayed the evidence to the Crown Prince.
Everything was provided by Lapitor.
As each piece was laid out upon the desk, the Crown Prince—who had been leaning deep into his chair—leaned forward.
His eyes, which had been as inert as mineral matter, flickered briefly with light.
“How intriguing.”
“These items were produced with the assistance of a Dark Elf residing in our household. On the left are seals from different documents enlarged and transferred onto paper; on the right is a three-dimensional representation of my signature, created to compare how the methods of signing differ—such as pen pressure and other characteristics.”
“Hmm.”
As the Crown Prince examined them, stroking his chin, Agnes relayed exactly what Lapitor had explained to her.
The Crown Prince, listening quietly, soon nodded.
“With a difference of two years, they could not possibly be so identical…. That is a reasonable explanation.”
“Precisely. Furthermore, you will be able to clearly see that the pen pressure of the signature differs from my own habits. Only the surface appearance was imitated; my personal mannerisms could not be copied.”
“Ha-ha. Indeed.”
The Crown Prince, Baltior Kadiam, laughed low.
In the moment his laughter echoed through the narrow space, the breathing of all those gathered seemed to stall.
As if it were an ominous signal.
In that space where time appeared to have stopped, only the Crown Prince moved.
His gaze passed over the plaintiff’s and defendant’s seats and came to rest upon the very center of the observation gallery.
Kesenor of Celesta.
Come to think of it, from the moment the Crown Prince entered the courtroom, he and Kesenor must have noticed each other—yet both had shown no reaction whatsoever.
Kesenor had simply sat alone in the observation gallery, maintaining silence.
As if he had buried his very existence in the shadows of the courtroom.
“Marquis of Celesta.”
The Crown Prince’s voice, which had been so tedious until now, suddenly sounded honeyed.
It was as if he were expressing profound affection toward an old friend he had not seen in ages.
Yet Kesenor did not respond to his summons.
“Marquis of Celesta.”
Only after calling again did Kesenor rise from his seat and bow deeply toward the Crown Prince.
“Kesenor of House Celesta, Your Highness. I am honored by your presence.”
“It has been such a long while since I have seen you. When I heard you were holed up in such a remote place, I was quite astonished—yet it seems you have involved yourself in rather fascinating trouble.”
Unlike the affection in his voice, his bearing was distinctly imperious as he gestured with his chin toward the evidence Agnes had presented.
“You’ve examined these pieces of evidence as well.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Good. Then what is your assessment?”
In that moment, his golden eyes took on an uncanny shimmer.
As though a whirlpool were forming, something transparent rippled across his irises.
When the pale luminescence deepened further, the Crown Prince spoke with the force of a blade driven downward.
“Command: Speak only the truth.”
In that instant, Kesenor’s gaze locked with the Crown Prince’s—and he was no longer himself.
The gemstone eyes that gleamed so brilliantly whenever they met Agnes’s gaze now clouded over before the Crown Prince, as though he were witnessing something utterly abhorrent and repulsive.
Through gritted teeth, Kesenor answered the Crown Prince’s command.
“It is the truth.”
A hairline fracture seemed to ripple across the Crown Prince’s face.
He still held his eyes wide and his smile intact, yet……
‘Was Count Valdemar surprised?’
Moreover, it was the first change in expression from a man who, as the saying went, bore the countenance of a statue—a man who had shown not a trace of feeling until now.
All because of a single sentence from Kesenor.
‘Why?’
From across the room, Count Valdemar’s brow furrowed as he stared at the evidence laid out on the desk.
‘Could it be he thinks the evidence might actually be genuine, based on the Marquis’s statement?’
She had tried so hard to explain, to prove……
‘He wasn’t taking my words seriously at all.’
As though confirming Agnes’s thought, the Crown Prince examined the evidence once more and murmured to himself.
“You’re telling me you didn’t just enlarge the letters written on paper—you gave them dimension as a three-dimensional object. And by examining the pen pressure in this way, you can verify authenticity.”
“That is correct.”
Kesenor affirmed once more.
He offered no further explanation, nothing more—yet the Crown Prince seemed not to doubt him in the slightest.
Perhaps it was because, unlike herself, a provincial noblewoman, he was the Marquis of Celesta.
‘But from what the Marquis said, it didn’t seem as though he and Your Highness shared a relationship of mutual trust.’
Above all, the expression on Kesenor’s face as he championed Agnes troubled her deeply.
‘It was all for my sake, and all he did was speak the truth—so why……? Could it be he crossed some line with the Crown Prince?’
What bothered her most was that Kesenor wasn’t looking at her at all.
‘It’s as if he’s avoiding me.’
Snapping from her reverie, the Crown Prince issued a sharp command to Count Valdemar.
“Count Valdemar. Make your counter-argument.”
Count Valdemar bowed his head silently.
How could the seal used on a document from two years prior match perfectly with a Payment Completion Certificate written recently?
For Count Valdemar, it was a question without answer.
‘To bungle something as simple as this……’
The reason was that it was not he who had forged the document, but his wife, Countess Valdemar.
Of course, he had instructed her that appearance alone was all that mattered.
After all, if Agnes had truly been addicted to Romanil, she would have had no presence of mind to verify the document’s authenticity.
‘What has gone wrong?’
He had bribed the maidservant newly hired into the Laberose Mansion and received her report that the work had been completed properly.
He had even heard that Agnes had asked for headache medicine and that a physician had visited.
Yet Agnes appeared perfectly sound.
Her eyes, which should have been clouded and hazy from addiction to Romanil, shone like leaves brimming with water.
‘This cannot be.’
If she had truly been given Romanil—and not just once or twice, but multiple times—she would have been addicted without question.
To stand there with such a clear countenance would have been impossible.
‘And now these absurd pieces of evidence are deemed genuine.’
The Crown Prince ordinarily trusted Kesenor absolutely whenever he answered the Crown Prince’s command, regardless of how disrespectfully the Marquis of Celesta might conduct himself.
‘No. It cannot be.’
Count Valdemar was aware of the rumors circulating recently concerning the House of Laberose.
That the once-arrogant Marquis of Celesta had become so smitten with the young lady of a fallen noble house that he would surrender both liver and gallbladder for her sake.
‘Even the Marquis of Celesta goes blind before romantic affection. Blind enough to affirm something as preposterous as this.’

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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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