The Murderous Duke's Domestic Affairs - Chapter 10

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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 10
Morning arrived as it always did. I made my way to Aster’s office, a routine as familiar as breathing. The moment my knock sounded, the door swung open—and there stood Letti, his perpetually cheerful face twisted into an expression of genuine alarm. He greeted me with visible distress.
“This is serious.”
Aster muttered the words in a low voice, his brow deeply furrowed. Exhaustion etched itself across his features. A newspaper lay spread across the long chair where he reclined, and my gaze inevitably drifted toward it.
“Sit.”
Aster gestured not to my usual seat at the Duke’s desk, but to the chair across from him. As I settled into it, I watched him raise his hand, signaling Letti to bring tea. It was rare for Aster to request tea—he rarely drank it—and when he did, the taste was invariably dreadful.
“It’s better than nothing.”
Now I noticed the glass of liquor sitting before him.
‘Drinking this early in the morning…’
Before I could voice my concern, Aster turned the newspaper toward me. My violet eyes traced across the printed text as he lifted his glass and took a measured sip, waiting for me to finish reading.
“Aster, this is…”
“I didn’t suppress the information, but I never expected such an absurd article to be published.”
I scanned the masthead at the top of the page and exhaled sharply, rubbing my face. Of course. No wonder Letti looked so alarmed, and no wonder Aster’s irritation was justified. He was right—even terrible tea was better than nothing in moments like this. I lifted the cup and drained the cold liquid in one gulp. Aster watched me in silence, his expression unreadable.
“‘The Murderer’ Aster Lilywood’s Secret Marriage!”
“Exclusive Report! Who is the Mysterious Duchess Veiled in Secrecy?”
The sensationalized headlines alone were enough to cause an uproar. They had bitten down hard.
‘The Murderer Lilywood’s Secret Marriage.’
As Aster said, that part wasn’t truly significant—it was information that would have surfaced eventually. But the article didn’t stop there. Speculation about the veiled ‘Duchess,’ about me, poured forth in toxic waves. The narrative painted itself: a murderer who had rejected the Emperor’s daughter had elevated some unknown woman—whether she was a prostitute, a mistress, or something equally scandalous—to the position of Duchess. Or perhaps I was a woman of no standing who had thrown myself at him to salvage my ruined life. The secret ceremony, conducted without proper celebration, was supposedly Aster’s attempt to escape the Emperor’s wrath for spurning the Princess.
The newspaper itself was hardly legitimate. It was third-rate gossip, infamous for sensationalism, yet wildly popular.
‘People crave scandal and sensation.’
The fall of the famous, sordid love affairs—these were the currency of public fascination. That Aster Lilywood, notorious as ‘the Murderer’ yet celebrated as a war hero, had chosen a woman who seemed to have crawled up from nowhere was precisely the kind of story that captured the masses’ appetite.
“I apologize. I couldn’t suppress the article.”
“No. You didn’t know about it either.”
Aster bowed his head toward me, but I shook mine. He had nothing to apologize for. He hadn’t planted the article. Besides, it was already too late. The newspapers were already in circulation; we couldn’t retrieve them. What mattered now was strategy. That publication was notoriously inflammatory, which meant the rumors had already spread like wildfire. How could we contain them?
“Should we issue a rebuttal article?”
Aster murmured the words while biting his lip, his gaze fixed on the newspaper before him. I lifted my head sharply, my violet eyes meeting his green ones with sudden clarity. They gleamed with purpose.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“Hmm?”
“Letti, could you gather all the newspapers coming into the Duke’s Mansion? Every single one—including those the servants read.”
At my words, Letti dashed from the room. I turned to Aster with a smile, and he let out a hollow laugh, genuinely taken aback by my swift change of demeanor.
“Doesn’t this irritate you?”
“Of course it does. But irritation won’t change anything.”
Better to spend that energy finding solutions. Aster had no choice but to nod at the logic of my words. Separately, I had to admire his remarkable composure. Truly remarkable.
“Aster, will you help me coordinate the story?”
“The story?”
“Yes. For the rebuttal article.”
I had mentioned issuing an article almost in frustration, but it seemed I had struck upon something worthwhile. Still, publishing a rebuttal wouldn’t necessarily silence rumors already in circulation. Especially not ones so sensational and sordid—they clung like a label that wouldn’t peel away, much like the ‘Murderer’ epithet that haunted him.
“What’s your plan?”
“We reveal who I truly am and show how deeply we love each other. Wouldn’t that work?”
“You think that will be enough?”
“I think we can let go of the threat to sue whoever provided the article or the Newspaper Company for publishing false information. Hmm, actually, making an example of the informant by genuinely pressing charges might not be a bad idea either.”
Lauren laughed softly. Would it really work that way? I found the idea absurd. Yet there was an inexplicable optimism that stirred within me at that smile of hers. Lauren was extraordinarily capable, just as she herself had said.
I crossed my arms and leaned back deeply into the chair. With her head bowed, Lauren traced the rim of an empty teacup, lost in thought. What on earth was going through that mind of hers? Without realizing it, I pulled at one corner of my lips.
A knock sounded, and Letti Torres entered carrying quite a substantial stack of newspapers in his arms. Following Lauren’s instructions, he arranged them on the work desk so the Newspaper Company names were visible. Since she had requested that even the servants see them, the quantity was considerable. Lauren selected a few from among them and placed them on the low table.
“I think we only need to choose two or three from here.”
“What’s your criteria?”
I raised my hand to my chin and asked.
“Gossip papers won’t run proper articles. The ones I’ve selected here barely publish gossip and focus on legitimate reporting. This one is primarily read by the nobility, and this one is popular among commoners instead. Oh, and this Newspaper Company has a camera! If we can use a photograph taken together, it would be excellent for changing public perception.”
“A photograph?”
Lauren pointed to each newspaper as she explained. At the word she uttered, Letti Torres’s eyes widened in a way unlike his usual demeanor. Noticing this unusual reaction, Lauren looked up and studied him. Letti Torres hunched his shoulders and avoided her gaze.
“A camera, you mean that thing? The one where if you photograph a living person, their soul escapes….”
“Surely not!”
Lauren’s voice rose. My hand, which had been sipping wine, froze. Letti Torres remained with his shoulders hunched. Lauren narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Was he someone who only appeared sensible on the surface but was actually careless? Yet when working, he seemed quite sharp-minded. What he had just said was utterly unimaginable coming from him.
“I don’t know how to accept such a foolish remark.”
“But Doris says it every day.”
“Ah, is that so? I’ll include that in my next letter. Leonora would quite enjoy hearing it.”
“No, wait, Your Grace!”
I, with arms crossed, chuckled at Letti Torres. In contrast, he had gone pale. It must have been because of the name Leonora that I had uttered. Perhaps she was his lover. He always wore a smiling face, so this expression was somewhat novel. And the fact that he believed in such superstitions was even more so.
“Elderly people sometimes say such things. When people see a photograph of themselves, their surroundings shake. But that’s because it takes a long time to take a photograph. It has nothing to do with souls or anything like that.”
Lauren placed her hands on her hips and lectured Letti Torres. Even as she furrowed her brows, he listened obediently to her words.
“Technology advances ceaselessly. Trains were once dismissed as inauspicious. But what about now? The same applies to photographs. Decades ago, it took twenty minutes to take a photograph, but now it takes mere moments. Now newspapers publish illustrations, and everyone has portraits painted, but someday photographs will take their place. Definitely.”
Letti Torres could not refute Lauren’s words. It was plausible enough. Her words contained no falsehood. I chuckled and drained the remaining wine in my glass in one gulp. Then I rose from my seat and draped an arm around Letti Torres’s still-dejected shoulders.
“That settles it then? Now go rush off to that Newspaper Company and arrange an appointment. The sooner, the better, tell them.”
Letti Torres, grimacing, slipped out from under my arm, straightened his posture, bowed his head respectfully, and left. Lauren watched his retreating figure before lowering her hands from her hips. A small sigh escaped as an afterthought.
“You know quite a bit.”
“Pardon?”
“About cameras.”
I perched on the edge of the desk and crossed my arms. My face, bearing a faint smile, turned toward Lauren. Unlike the sharp smile I had shown Letti Torres moments before, this one somehow seemed more at ease. Though it might have been mere fancy.
When I smile, my consciousness cannot help but drift to some distant past, no matter how I try to prevent it. To meaningless memories of bright sunlight pouring down as it does now, or wind rustling through hair—such trivial recollections. There was no need to dwell on such useless thoughts. I offered Lauren a bitter smile.
“House of Siaz has been investing in several technologies. The camera is one of them.”
Money was scarce even for improving the lives of the domain’s people. When I had begun learning my duties, I had once asked Father why we made such investments while examining the expenditure records. Father had smiled kindly, stroked my jet-black hair that resembled his own, and answered.
I recalled those childhood days spent in conversation with Father. A rare day when snow had fallen. Small things like the fireplace burning warmly and a teacup steaming.
At the end of that bittersweet smile, I bit my lip. In the end, the things that compose me are such trivial matters. Each memory I hold cannot be entirely meaningless. So there was no need to force myself to erase them.
“Technology makes people’s lives a little better. Things like photographs or electricity are still merely novelties for the wealthy. But wait and see. Before long, people will enjoy them as conveniences.”
Lauren spoke with a radiant face, her eyes meeting my green ones directly.

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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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