Misfortune 70

Chapter 70

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The Viscount, already red at the thought of being laughed at, blood rushed to his face once more.

"You damned commoner!" he shouted, "You damned commoner!"

"Viscount Nubel, don't you hear me when I tell you to stop?"

It was only after the harsh words had fallen from the Admiral’s mouth that the Viscount finally managed to shut up. The sound of gritted teeth and barely controlled anger filled the uncomfortable silence.

The Viscount looked back at the Admiral, his face still full of frustration.

"Next time, I hope you won't be so quick to favor one side over the other."

With that, the Viscount, who had just snapped at Admiral for his frustration, left the study without looking back.

The Admiral clicked his tongue and shook his head.

He seemed oblivious to the fact that it was him, not Roan, who was after him today. If things had gone any worse here, the Viscount would never have been able to walk out on his own.

He was always that blind.

The Admiral, who had roughly calculated the size of his investment in the Viscount in his head, looked back at Roan wearily.

The man's eyes, frozen in place like nails, were fixed on the already closed door. If there was the slightest opening, he was going to kick that door down, and he was going to drive a fang in the Viscount's head, not a bullet.

He was not a beast. The Admiral's voice was a mixture of laughter and sigh.

"Not much done here but I’m sure the Viscount understood.”

Roan's lips clamped tightly together like glue, refusing to open, which the Admiral knew was his own way of expressing his displeasure.

"Josephine's future is bleak anyway. Even if you don't add anything to it."

Even if she somehow escaped legal liability, Josephine would never be able to escape the scandal of having tried to kill Roan’s mistress in a fit of jealousy-unless she could silence all the witnesses who were there.

No family would want to associate themselves with such a woman, and some would want to distance themselves from the scandalized Viscount Nubel.

Disrepute in aristocratic society meant isolation in social circles, and a scandal like this would be devastating, especially for a family as close-knit as Viscount Nubel's. The damage was so great that it would take generations to repair.

Not that Roan would ever know.

"Hey, Roan."

Roan turned toward the Admiral as if in response to his name. His scowl softened slightly.

It had been a long time since he'd been addressed by name, not rank.

The Admiral used to call Roan by his first name when he treated him like a favorite student or child, not a subordinate. Just like the days when he'd sailed the seas with the little boy.

"The Viscount's tone was quite eccentric, but I don't think he was entirely wrong."

"...."

"Perhaps the Magistrate's judgment will be no different, and even more so the Emperor's. Under Imperial law, a slave is a slave, after all."

The maidservants of the Barthez mansion had been accused of horrible things for trying to harm the slave, but it was a different time.

In those days, the magistracy would have had to launch a full-scale investigation just to make up for lost ground; a commoner maid with no backbone would have been enough to add to the charges.

But Josephine was different: she was a noblewoman, and unlike the maid who had arranged the kidnapping, she couldn't be accused of intent.

It may seem absurd to some, but it was the reality of the situation, and Roan Barthez, a former commoner officer, had felt it more thoroughly than most.

So he clenched his fists, unable to retort. The tremors of his strength were visible to the Admiral's eyes.

Still, the Admiral didn't hesitate a moment.

"I have no way of knowing what you think of her, but.................."

"..."

"If you want to keep someone, put them in a position where they can be kept, don't you think?"

The advice spilled out of his mouth like a broken record.

Roan's eyes, which had been calm the entire time, began to twitch slightly, and the Admiral sighed softly, as if he understood the complex and noisy conversation.

"I suppose you need time to clear your head, too."

"..."

"Take some time to think about it. What you need to do."

Finished with his advice, the Admiral waved his hand as if to dismiss him.

Roan saluted the Admiral without a word. But his blue eyes didn't quite capture the Admiral's true meaning.

The Admiral's eyes sunk deep as he watched Roan leave the study. As if he were worried for his son, who was belatedly passing through a nasty phase of puberty.

***

Roan ran along the shore, alone in the sea breeze that had cooled for days.

It was a long-held belief of his that the more complicated his mind, the more he needed to move his body.

It was the same reason he chose a sandy beach to sink his feet into rather than a flat road: the closer to exhaustion, the better.

Once he had worked up a sweat, he would feel refreshed, both physically and mentally. His thinking became clearer and more concise, and he would see that he had been wasting his time worrying about the wrong things.

But today was different.

He ran and ran until he was out of breath, but the thoughts in his head didn't go away. In fact, they only swelled larger, as if air had blown into them.

"Ha."

When he finally stopped, he bent down and caught his breath.

The beads of sweat that had formed on his head and face trickled down to the ground. The fine sand gripped his feet gently and stretched, as if it didn't want to miss its chance.

No, it wasn't just sand at his feet.

A feeling of displeased.

More precisely, a sense of being wronged at its source.

“She’s only a slave.”

"Since when do you insist that a slave is a person?”

The eerie resemblance of the woman's voice once again grated on his nerves.

But he knew better. This wasn't just a matter of the Viscount Nubel or his daughter’s poor character.

He'd already suspected it when Josephine had snatched his slave from the capital, and when he'd returned to find her being close to being kidnapped.

That this wasn't a problem that could be solved by cracking down on the servant. Something more fundamental was at work.

"This slave is strictly mine, and I share ownership of her with no one.”

What he said then was certainly true: she was Roan Barthez's slave.

But that didn’t mean he could expect anyone but him to treat her as a person, or to respect her.

She was a slave, because he had defined her as such.

So it was only right that they treat her like one.

"If you want to keep someone, you put them in a position to be kept, don't you think?”

His slightly furrowed brow crinkled as he remembered the Admiral's advice.

The question of where to put the slave was secondary. He'd already had one from the beginning.

He wanted to protect her?

Of course not.

To Roan, she was an unforgivable woman. She was a woman he hated, a woman he wanted to break, a woman he had to get his hands on.

To him, Delnia was nothing more than a toy that could be destroyed at any moment. That time hadn't come yet.

For she still had many more years to face his hatred, as he had convinced himself she would one day.

But that was only for Roan Barthez, and he was the only one who could treat her carelessly.

But the people were under the illusion that they could bite her, like hyenas, just because she was a slave.

Suddenly, he was disillusioned with everything that didn't go his way.

How the hell am I going to show them?

What am I going to do with her.....................

'If you want to protect someone, put them in a place where they can be protected...................’

In the end, he was back to square one.

It was obvious that he would never find the answer, so Roan forced himself to break the chain of thoughts and resumed his trot.

It was only after another hour of torturing himself that he made his way back to the office.

"Colonel."

For some reason, the butler had met him at the back door.

Roan, who had no difficulty guessing the purpose of the call, wiped his sweat from his face with the towel the butler handed him and asked,

"Is she awake?"

"Yes. Leticia is upstairs now with porridge."

The butler answered smoothly, even though he didn't have a clue who he was asking about. Roan nodded lightly.

***

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