Rewriting the Trash Ending - Chapter 41

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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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41.

“Your Highness? At this hour—what brings you here?”
The Head Cook was the first to react to Lumière’s entrance.
Kaiden and Hanna stood with faces gone cold and rigid.
Lumière moved through the kitchen with an expression bleached of color, her gaze dispassionate and thorough.
The Head Cook’s eyes flickered with a nameless dread at the sight of them.
“I wish I could tell you it’s nothing, but I can’t—it is something. Bear with me, if you would.”
The Head Cook spoke, his own face drawn and exhausted.
“Surely there’s nothing wrong with yesterday’s meal?”
“The food was fine. Something else brought me here.”
Lumière’s gaze swept across the servants’ faces, then stilled upon Britta’s.
……
As that wordless scrutiny stretched on, Britta’s complexion drained to white.
Lumière watched the change, then spoke softly.
“There’s no need to be so rigid. All I need is for you to tell me honestly how you spent yesterday.”
Her tone was impossibly gentle, yet the half-closed quality of her voice and the chill of her smile suggested this would not end there.

Finding the culprit required little time.
She simply needed to identify who had been unaccounted for during the hours when her chambers were empty.
Of all the kitchen servants, only Britta lacked a verified alibi.
And Peter’s testimony sealed Britta’s guilt beyond question.
“This is beyond absurd.”
Once they had moved to a quiet, private room, Lumière hurled a bundle of letters at Britta, who knelt before her trembling.
They were all the correspondence that had passed between Britta and Magda.
“Please, please spare me. I had no choice—she is the Duke’s aunt. I couldn’t refuse her orders.”
“Yet you seemed quite willing. You even accepted expensive things no kitchen maid’s wages could buy.”
“Your Highness, I—that is to say—”
It was hardly surprising.
She had seen Britta acting as Magda’s instrument more than once, accepting scraps as reward.
What did catch her slightly off guard was how long this arrangement had been in place.
Though truly, all she knew came from what she’d learned after death; how could she know when it began?
Lumière let out a soft tsk.
The letters found in Britta’s quarters spanned nearly years.
Details of petty household intrigue, gossip circulating among the servants.
When marriage negotiations for the Duke had been underway, the letters asked after his mood and movements.
And most recently, Magda’s final letter contained explicit instructions to sabotage the Ducal Residence’s Household Management.
Once I took over the management, troubles would follow, which would deepen the servants’ mistrust—and give Magda the pretext to interfere directly in my affairs.
“Your Highness, you should wet your throat while you speak.”
Hanna entered and set down a cup of tea, and at that moment, color flooded back into Britta’s face—but it was the flush of shame.
A hollow laugh escaped her at the emotion now laid bare on the woman’s features.
Her throat had been dry anyway; she wet it with the tea before continuing.
“Did you truly think I would cast Hanna out over perfume and firewood?”
“That is to say—”
“You did, apparently.”
She had suspected as much even when dumping out the perfume yesterday, and Britta’s expression now confirmed it beyond doubt.
“Your Highness, I beg you—just this once, spare me, please. You know how terrifying the Countess is!”
Lumière let out a derisive snort at the pathetic excuse.
“So I’m not frightening, but the Duke and I are—is that what I’m hearing?”
“No, Your Highness, that’s not what I meant—it’s just that the Duke kept refusing too, but she kept forcing it on us, and I couldn’t find a way out—”
There was nothing more to hear.
She tossed the letter paper and pen Britta had been using onto the floor.
“Enough with your excuses. Write to the Countess.”
“Your Highness?”
“Tell her that all the tasks she assigned you are complete. Then perhaps you’ll stop appearing before me.”
As she smiled graciously, her eyes narrowing, all the color drained from Britta’s face.
Yet those violet eyes, so at odds with her gentle smile, held only desolation.
“Now, write down everything I’m about to tell you.”
Britta lifted the pen with trembling fingers.
“I followed the lady’s instructions, but instead of Your Highness taking corrective action, the servants have only grown resentful.”
“I… what?”
Britta looked up in alarm.
“Come now, you’d better write.”
Britta began composing the letter, watching Lumière’s face carefully.
“The Duke himself has grown stern upon witnessing the situation, so it seems the lady must step in soon.”
A moment passed.
“Th-there, it’s all finished.”
Britta extended the completed letter with quivering hands.
“Well done.”
“I… surely I won’t be punished?”
As Britta’s voice trembled with fragile hope, Lumière tucked the letter into her bodice.
“Of course you will be.”
“Y-you weren’t going to forgive me?”
“When did I ever say I would forgive you?”
She’d only asked her to transcribe a letter—what made her think mercy was on offer?
“Your Highness, please! Spare me, I beg you! I’ll do whatever you command, Your Highness…!”
The soldier standing behind seized Britta’s arm as she sank to her knees, her pleas pouring out.
It was all in vain.
The moment she’d set foot in the Duke’s bedchamber, she’d already hanged herself.
Lumière left the room, leaving Britta’s anguished cries echoing behind her.
“Your Highness, the soldiers are standing by. Shall we begin the search at once?”
Kaiden approached.
The night’s events seemed to have left him sharp as a blade.
“Search the servants’ quarters first. If you find anyone suspicious, detain them.”
“Yes. I’ll relay the order and return immediately.”
Kaiden vanished at a rapid pace, clearly intent on returning as quickly as possible.
“Sigh…”
She’d wanted to keep things quiet given everything that had happened since arriving in the North, but this was a perfect opportunity to tighten internal discipline.
‘I can’t let this chance slip away.’
Even if the servants had only been passing along gossip about the atmosphere in the castle or the Duke’s moods, there was no telling when someone else might cross the line like Britta had.
“Your Highness, shouldn’t you inform the Duke about this matter?”
“Yes, I suppose I should.”
At Hanna’s suggestion, Lumière let out a quiet sigh.
It felt awkward to contact someone who’d told her not to wait, but this wasn’t about sending personal regards.
Since she’d moved soldiers on her own authority, it was only right that he hear it from her directly.

***

A soldier sat atop the high watchtower of the Northern Fortress, keeping watch over the darkened surroundings.
Torches flickered in the wind, and soldiers stood in measured intervals, quietly maintaining their posts.
In the distance, a sparse, desolate cry drifted through the air.
As the sun set, the fortress always seemed to drift between tension and tedium.
“…….”
Axid entered his chamber after bathing.
Rather than his usual crisp uniform, he wore only a loose robe, and the dangerous lines of his frame showed through plainly.
He absently wiped away the water droplets trailing down his wet hair, then changed into fresh clothes.
A hard bunk, a coat rack, a small table beside the bed.
The austere, barren room was no different from his life.
It was a landscape he’d grown accustomed to, yet somehow it felt hollow.
Every time he lay upon the cold bed, the warmth that used to nestle against him was absent.
It was a strange emptiness—as though he’d lost something he’d never even possessed.
‘Did I grow accustomed to it so quickly?’
Standing motionless, he let out a bitter laugh, then swept his hair back and gazed at the letter resting on the small table.
After receiving Bi’s letter, all he’d sent in return was a single line asking her not to wait.
Perhaps he’d hurt her.
The worry flickered, then he shook his head.
She, unlike other women, regarded curses as nothing more than superstition.
Even so, his resolve to maintain distance remained unshaken, however much it troubled his heart.
Only by keeping her at arm’s length could he one day release her freely.
He drew a deep breath, then descended to the dining hall.
The moment he stepped inside, the clamor of voices subsided.
As Axid took his seat, Brian placed a beer glass before him and spoke.
“Your Highness, please have a drink.”
At once, deep furrows carved themselves across Axid’s brow.
“…What is this?”
“Forgive me? It’s beer, Your Highness…?”
Brian tilted his head at the unexpected question.
“No—that smell.”
His gaze fixed on Brian’s wrist.
The moment Brian set down the beer, a scent wafted to his nose—one he knew all too well, one he could never forget.

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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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