Chapter 66

Grotesque Taste (1)

“It's late—haven’t you gone to bed?”
“So now you go out without even my permission.”
“I had urgent business.”

Isaac nodded at Waller’s bow and replied.
In his arms, he carried something wrapped in cloth.

“What is all that?”

The count asked as he looked at the two baggage wagons attached behind the carriage.

“I’ll explain inside.”
“And those two?”
“Ah, greet him. He’s my father.”
“My name is Violet.”
“Pallich.”

Violet removed her hood and offered a proper noble greeting.
Pallich greeted him skillfully as well.
But the count’s expression hardened, his brow furrowing.

Their introductions had omitted too much—
their origins, their family names, and their purpose for visiting.
Isaac could not possibly be unaware of this, yet he said nothing.

Before long, a light drizzle began to fall.

“May we speak inside?”
“...Come in.”

The count spoke coldly.
His steps were already heading toward the main building.
The head attendant following behind let out a quiet sigh.
Just moments ago, the count had been worried about Isaac not returning.
If even a quarter of that concern had been shown, their father-son relationship might have grown closer.

“Waller. Bring some tea. Something that won’t interfere with sleep.”

The count said this as he entered the reception room.
Waller withdrew, and the others followed Isaac inside.

“What is it that you’re putting on such airs in the middle of the night?”
“It concerns the marquis. And these two are his people.”
“The marquis’s people?”

The count, seated on the couch and packing tobacco into his pipe, paused.
His gaze turned toward Violet and Pallich.
Though it was merely a glance, the two of them shrank back instinctively.

No one but the count sat down.
Nor did he bother offering them seats.

“Two messengers, then?”
“Not messengers. Friends who are considering switching sides.”
“......”

Sss—

The tobacco in the pipe flared briefly before dying, releasing a harsh smoke.
The count simply waited in silence.

“Because of this.”

Isaac placed the object he had been holding onto the table.
As the cloth was removed, a golden birdcage was revealed.
The count’s gaze settled on the glass sphere inside.

The neck of a boy who looked as if he were peacefully asleep.
The corners of the corpse’s lips curved upward naturally.
As if he were dreaming a pleasant dream.

The count’s expression did not change.
Yet the air in the room grew colder, as if a biting wind had swept through.
The candlelight flickered.

“What is this?”
“As you can see. A glass container holding a corpse.”
“Explain.”

“Today, there was quite a disturbance in Bern City.”
“A disturbance?”
“The House of Saint Ursus Mercy burned down. I burned it. And these are some of the items I retrieved from its underground. I came across them while searching for the Randolph brothers.”

Isaac explained the course of events.
Beginning with Mrs. Randolph’s request, and leading to the grotesque hobby involving young boys.

As he spoke, the count’s gaze never left the glass sphere.

“How many of these did you say there were?”
“At least dozens, displayed in the underground storage.”
“Displayed…?”

The count repeated the word expressionlessly.
Only his eyes shifted slightly toward Violet.

Violet instinctively took a step back.
It felt as though she had touched something cold enough to freeze her bones.

Hadn’t the marquis said so?
That Count Goethe was a beast without fangs or claws.
A wolf leashed by the royal family.

All nonsense.

“......”

Was silence always this unbearable?
Violet wanted to say something—anything.

That the boy’s death had nothing to do with her.
That she had known nothing about it.
That she was not so deranged or depraved as to fall to such depths.

That she had only temporarily joined hands with the marquis for her own ideals, to uphold her values.
To protect those who shared her cause—just for that purpose…

Countless excuses flashed through her mind,
yet none of them sounded anything but pathetic.

No matter what she said, to the count, she would remain nothing more than a rat gnawing away at his territory—a parasite.
In the end, she swallowed her shabby excuses and bit her lip tightly.

“This matter has nothing to do with them. They came because they wanted to meet you regarding what comes next.”

Isaac stepped in to defend Violet and Pallich.

“This boy must have been around your age.”

The count shifted his gaze to Isaac.
He paid no further attention to Violet or Pallich.

Only then did Violet realize she had been holding her breath.
She let it out quietly.
Even breathing felt dangerous.

“Yes. And if he were still alive, he would likely be older than me now.”

The conversation between father and son was calm.
Yet it felt like standing on a snow-laden mountainside—
unstable, as if even the smallest echo could trigger an avalanche.

If that avalanche were to fall here and now,
it would be Violet and Pallich who would be buried beneath it.

That was why Violet could not help but control even the sound of her breathing.

“The site?”
“Completely burned.”

“That was rash.”
“I couldn’t just leave it alone.”

It had been Violet who set the fire.
But if she spoke the truth here, it would only be seen as an attempt to destroy evidence.

“The House of Mercy was built with funds centered around the marquis. Is he involved in this as well?”
“Yes.”
“Proof?”
“We secured the ledgers. Carlson.”

Carlson, who had been waiting behind, stepped forward and placed a stack of cotton-paper documents bound in leather onto the table.

The count untied the leather strap and examined the contents.

“The marquis’s major black-market transactions are recorded here. His seal is stamped on them, along with the seals of his trading partners.”
“There’s… quite a lot.”

The count’s expression hardened as he held the pipe in his mouth.
Though it was written in the common tongue, when the characters were put together, the words made no sense at all.
They were so disordered they were barely readable, with numbers mixed in at random.

“You don’t need to look at it that closely. Just check the first character. A single stroke means human trafficking. A square is drugs, and a circle is… this.”

Isaac pointed at the glass sphere.

“Then what are the numbers?”
“If we go by what the woman who made these said, they’re probably serial numbers.”
“They exceed three digits.”
“That likely means that many children died. Or perhaps even more, if some were remade because they didn’t meet her standards.”

Thud—

The count closed the ledger.
Staring into empty space, he silently puffed on his pipe.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes… ten minutes passed.

Violet and Pallich felt as if they would suffocate.
Cold sweat had already formed on their faces.
The reception room seemed filled with smoke at a glance, but what truly filled it was the count’s mana, steeped in cold fury.

Isaac, too, did not show it on his face, but he had activated all six of his multi-circuits to avoid being overwhelmed by the count’s presence.

“Leave it to me.”

After the long silence, Isaac spoke first.
It was dangerous for the count himself to move.
Simply appearing in Bern City could give the royal court grounds to interfere.
In contrast, if something went wrong with Isaac, he could simply be expelled from the family.
Then it would no longer concern the Goethe house.

“Isaac. You were right.”

“Then, the order—”

“A few months ago, you said we could no longer rely on shield taxes. I was complacent. I should have considered that before you ever said it.”

“…What?”

The count rose to his feet.
A faint breeze drifted in through the reception room window.

“From this point on, this is the head of the house’s matter.”

“Count.”

Just as the count, having glanced once at Violet and Pallich, was about to leave the room—
Violet called out to him.

“There’s nothing to discuss right now.”
“No, that’s not it. Have you, by any chance, ordered a troop mobilization?”
“What are you talking about?”

For the first time since meeting her, the count directed a question at Violet.

“Armed groups are gathering around Bern City.”
“When? How many?”
“Probably since about half a day ago. I don’t know the exact number, but well over a hundred. Groups of five, ten, twenty—various bands are converging southwest of Bern.”

Violet answered, trying not to avert the count’s gaze.

“How do you know that?”

There had been no messenger, no carrier pigeon.
Her information seemed to come out of nowhere.

“I heard it through the flow of the wind. Let me introduce myself properly, Count. And to you as well, young master. My name is Violet de la Fleur. A committee member of the moderate faction of the Revolutionary Party—and a spirit mage.”

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

“Lady…!”

The most shocked by her introduction was not the count, nor Isaac, but Pallich.
Far faster than Pallich had expected, she had made her decision—
which side she would stand on.

***

At dawn the next day,
Violet’s claim proved true.

“All of these came via carrier pigeons?”
“Yes, sir.”

The servant managing the pigeon coop answered.

From early morning, Schiller had been seated at his desk.
Wearing a monocle with a magnifying lens, he carefully reviewed the letters brought by the servant one by one.

“Do you know when the first letter arrived?”
“Probably before dawn. It rained last night, didn’t it? When I woke up, the rain had stopped, but the pigeon perched on the stand still had wet feathers.”
“I see.”

Schiller nodded at the servant’s reasoning.
If that was the case, then what Violet had said was undoubtedly true.

The letters had been sent from various places.
Some from farming villages, some from the capital, others from churches—and some from Bern City itself.
But their contents were largely the same.

Mounted messengers had spread word across the region that Bern was recruiting mercenaries at contract fees several times higher than market rates.
As a result, mercenaries and village youths from nearby areas had begun moving toward Bern City.

Most of the letters came from the count’s subjects,
but one was different.

Even the paper was of a different quality—
fine cotton fiber paper.

The marquis.

“I must report this to His Excellency immediately.”

The head attendant left the office at once.

***

[May the grace of God and the blessings of the royal family be with you.
Due to a series of unfortunate incidents that have occurred in the city of Bern, I intend to exercise my right of self-defense.
You need not be concerned, as this will not cause Your Excellency any distress.
Before the sun sets today, I will visit you personally and fulfill my duty as a royal inspector by explaining this matter in detail.
—Royal Inspector, Marquis Dietrich]

***

It was entirely one-sided.

He did not ask for the count’s permission,
nor did he show even the slightest caution.

He ignored the authority and autonomy of the lord of the territory,
and could even provoke political conflict between the royal court and the nobility.

Yet the marquis blatantly disregarded all of it.

Whoosh—

The letter caught fire.

With his pipe still in his mouth, the count tossed the burning letter into the extinguished brazier.

“So it turned out just as the young master said.”

The head attendant spoke in a low voice.

“…….”

The count said nothing,
only watching the letter be consumed by the flames.