Rewriting the Trash Ending - Chapter 31

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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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31.

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House of Oswald was the pillar of Winterheim’s nobility.
If Axid personally attended to the affairs of such a prominent house, he could stir the loyalty of the aristocrats—but he was not a man who bought fealty in such manner.
A man who commanded loyalty by mere existence, whose single glance determined a house’s rise or fall.
For such a man, sending a gift was more than sufficient without the tedium of appearing in person.
So she had intended to take charge of interactions with the nobility herself—yet now she wondered if this might serve better.
‘Perhaps this is for the best?’
Awe and reverence.
She permitted nothing else in the way her husband was regarded.
And for that, she needed to present themselves as a perfectly united couple to all eyes.
Not shrouded in gloom like the Grand Duchesses before her, cultivating dark rumors—but wholly, visibly content.
Of course, to truly dispel the Curse, she would need either to reveal the existence of the previous Grand Duchess or produce an heir, but for now this was the best she could manage.
“Your Grace, would you bow your head for just a moment?”
After paying her respects to the Dowager.
Lumiere glanced around at the aristocrats who lingered at a distance, too timid to approach, then reached toward Axid with a subtle gesture.
Though he looked puzzled, he lowered his head without resistance.
As she straightened his slightly askew Cravat, she felt his gaze brush across her ears and the nape of her neck.
Even in the carriage earlier, he’d kept stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t looking.
It seemed her choice to wear his gift immediately had pleased him more than he let on.
“It suits me, doesn’t it?”
She smiled softly as she adjusted the Cravat, and he stiffened slightly.
“Thank you for the gift. You’ve already given me far more than I deserved for a mere Moisturizer.”
“…I had no intention of settling accounts.”
“I know—you were saying how grateful you are.”
She swallowed her amusement at his earnest reply and finished straightening the Cravat.
“There. That’s better now.”
Tap-tap.
She gave his shoulder a light pat with her palm.
She could feel the crowd’s sharp intake of breath at so casual a gesture.
“Your Grace, why don’t you go show your face to the others and come back?”
“…Is that truly necessary?”
“Pardon?”
Axid swept his gaze indifferently across the room and continued.
“They can see my face well enough from here. There’s no need to leave your side.”
His eyes fixed on a single point.
Lumiere turned her head to follow his gaze.
Magda was engaged in conversation with the ladies, her expression rigid.
“Ah…”
So he meant to stay precisely because he feared she might approach if he left her alone.
His face was serene, but his black eyes held the cutting cold of ice.
‘Did he hear about what happened?’
She’d told Terra to keep silent, but she’d never truly believed that silence would hold.
After all, there were many paths for word to reach her husband’s ears.
‘I’ll need to settle this while I have the chance.’
If left unchecked, Magda would trample all over the household arrangements she was building and obstruct her at every turn.
And there were plenty of witnesses present to see it all.
This was the perfect opportunity to cast her out with sound justification, without earning the reputation that House of Oswald was callous.
At that moment, Count Oswald approached them carefully.
“Your Grace, Your Highness. Thank you for gracing this gathering with your distinguished presence.”
“It’s been quite a while. How is your daughter faring?”
At Lumiere’s question, Count Oswald gazed somewhere off to the side with a faint smile.
“Thanks to Your Highness’s kindness, she has improved considerably.”
Following his gaze, Lumiere saw Erica peering out from behind a pillar in the corner.
“She still fears standing before others, but she has made great progress.”
“Is that so…?”
“Yes, the Audience Ceremony did have limited attendance, but the Banquet Hall sees countless guests passing through, doesn’t it?”
“Now that you mention it, that’s true.”
Lumiere smiled warmly at Erica, who bowed shyly from a distance, her cheeks flushed pink.
It was a relief that she had improved so much.
“In any case, I’m delighted to see you again, but I’m afraid I have an urgent matter to discuss with the Grand Duke, so might I impose upon your forbearance for a moment?”
Oswald asked in a deferential tone, as if thinking it would be faster to go through Lumiere to reach the Grand Duke.
She’d been hoping Axid would step away for a bit anyway.
“It sounds important, so please do go. I’ll stand right here quietly.”
Axid’s brow furrowed faintly.
His reluctance to leave was plain to see.
She pushed him away again, both to allow Magda to approach on her own terms and to honor Oswald’s expectations.
“Surely you don’t distrust me?”
“…I’ll be back shortly.”
He left with the Count, however grudgingly.
Moments later, seizing her opportunity, Magda approached at the head of a cluster of courtiers.
“I beg your pardon for the late greeting. I am Magda Mobel, the Grand Duke’s maternal aunt. I believe this is our first time meeting in person?”
Lumiere let out a cold, mirthless laugh.
“So we finally meet face to face. Welcome, Countess Mobel.”
How she’d longed for this moment.
This was the woman who’d tried to place a compliant bride beside the Grand Duke to seize the reins of power, and worse still, to rake through her own grave.
“In any case, I was quite startled to receive your letter. I never imagined you would request an audience in someone else’s household.”
It was Magda’s turn to be startled.
Today was indeed momentous, but that this woman—whom she regarded as the “elder of House Oswald”—would come running at her summons without hesitation had caught her completely off guard.
“I cannot speak to how things are in the Imperial Palace, but here in the Northern Region, every move you make becomes talk. For the honor of House Oswald, you must be more circumspect.”
“Your concern for House Oswald is appreciated, but that’s a lesson you need to take to heart far more than I.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
“Even if I’m still unfamiliar with the Northern Region and can be forgiven for it, you’ve chosen to count yourself among House Oswald’s own, yet you haven’t set foot in the castle for months now. Surely that hasn’t escaped notice?”
Magda’s eyes narrowed.
It had been months since she’d stopped visiting the castle after her nephew had turned her away at his door when she opposed his marriage.
But if she couldn’t offer an explanation here, her façade of maintaining close ties with the Grand Duke would crumble.
She had to come up with a reason, even if she had to invent one.
She couldn’t blame her nephew, so there was only one target left.
“…If you must know, surely you’re aware of the reason yourself.”
“Am I?”
Magda spoke in an aggrieved tone, her gaze sharp.
“Ever since His Grace took you into his favor, the distance between him and me has grown considerably.”
The gathered crowd stirred, as though Lumiere had deliberately driven a wedge between the Grand Duke and Magda.
“I’m not sure why you’d blame me for that.”
“Blame? I simply stated the facts.”
“Yet here you are, an aunt in name, who can’t even cross the castle threshold. Do you need me to spell out the reason?”
!
All color drained from Magda’s face.
The fact that she’d been thrown out of her nephew’s study was known only to him and herself at that time.
Never breathed aloud, never whispered to a soul—how could the Grand Duke’s wife possibly know of this shame?
‘Could it be that my nephew told that woman…?’
No, that couldn’t be.
Her nephew was not the sort to loose his tongue needlessly.
His reticence was precisely why she’d been able to maintain the façade of a cordial relationship with House Oswald all this time.
But how could an outsider from the Empire, newly arrived in the North, possibly know of this?
As she found herself on the brink of exposure—having dared to trample a princess the Empire itself had cast aside—cold sweat began to slide down Magda’s spine.
Countless eyes bore into her skin like needles.
One misstep, and she would become the object of ridicule before them all.
“How can you be so certain of what passed between my nephew and myself?”
…
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re fabricating falsehoods to drive a wedge between us.”
“Why would I bother?”
When Lumiere let out an incredulous laugh, indignation flared hotly in Magda’s grey eyes.
“I must have displeased you. My knowledge of family affairs must have been terribly inconvenient for you.”
“There’s one thing you’re misunderstanding. I never intended to receive an audience here in the first place.”
“What do you mean by that….”
“Why would I refuse your visit to the castle, and instead choose this place, do you think?”
Magda’s lips trembled as she parted them.
“…The Northern Region observes customs quite different from the Imperial Palace, Your Highness. Perhaps you were not fully apprised of them.”
“You mean to say you were rejecting an audience with me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I saw enough of what manner of person you are from that letter. What more remains to be assessed?”
Magda’s eyes flashed with indignation.
“I am the Grand Duke’s aunt, whatever my station. Surely, even for Your Highness, there must be propriety in how one judges an elder?”
“All the direct line of House of Oswald have passed, as I understand it. Surely you don’t mean to claim the standing of an elder over me—you, who are nothing but a relative by marriage?”
A relative by marriage.
At those two syllables, heat flooded her face, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears.
Only moments before, her nephew had treated her as though she did not exist.
And now, before the very eyes of those who had fawned before her, she was being demoted to a mere relative by marriage.
Shame burned from her head to her fingertips, and her nails dug crescents into her palms as her lips opened of their own accord.
“The direct line is broken, and I am the only blood that remains to the Grand Duke. Yet you call me merely a relative by marriage!”
“Countess.”
The Grand Duchess’s voice fell low and clear—a warning—but once the dam had broken, the words would not stop.
Stubborn pride, goaded on by shame, had climbed to the crown of her head, leaving no room to retreat with grace.
“Is Your Highness not simply a woman sold off to preserve some precious lineage? Do you not know what befell the Grand Duchesses before you?”
She had uttered words that should never have passed her lips.

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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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