IDHGA 22

Chapter 22

Father had hardly ever taken care of the North.

No, it would be more accurate to say he had never taken care of it.

From my earliest memories to the present, Father spent every day taking up his sword and going out to fight the barbarians who lived in the coldest winter lands at the very edge of the North. He focused solely on that.

All matters of the household and internal affairs were entirely managed by Mother and my nanny, and that work eventually passed down to me and Cleor, my nanny’s son.

All Father knew how to do was swing a sword, and when he returned to the mansion, without even asking how things were, he would throw himself into heavy drinking bouts with the knights.

He never once showed interest in how the people of the territory were faring or what they needed, only busying himself with what he deemed to be his own affairs.

What angers me most about my younger self is that I never once thought to resent Father or fight against him.

Back then, I simply struggled desperately to protect the territory by any means necessary.

Because of that, Cleor and I understood each other better than anyone else, and relied on each other more than anyone else.

Though we weren’t blood siblings, we shared a camaraderie thicker than that of real siblings.

But aside from being the most trusting and reliable pair, he and I were indispensable people in managing the North’s affairs.

I was responsible for the overall household management and business of the territory, while Cleor handled all the various matters that arose within.

To keep the North’s affairs running—none of which could be called separate from one another—one of us always had to remain in the North.

—

*”Go on. You are a debutante, after all.”*

On the day Father informed me that I was to go to the capital, Cleor smiled at me.

He said that the North would run fine with just one of us, since it wasn’t a region with such a large establishment anyway, and he volunteered himself to stay behind.

*’I thought that around the time the social season ended… I’d hole up in the North again with Cleor and struggle alongside the people of the territory.’*

I looked at Dayrick, whom Jena had brought, and thought that.

Dayrick, with his sharp and courteous impression, now seemed to me to resemble Cleor slightly.

It was a face I’d seen all my life in my past life, yet it felt strangely new.

“The servants’ quarters are located at the very edge of the mansion, so we do conduct periodic patrols, but the ones who stood watch last night said they saw no suspicious persons.”

“No one saw anyone suspicious?”

“Yes. I also checked if any messenger birds had arrived last night, but on that front, they said the last ones to arrive were His Grace and you, miss.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Could it be that the messenger bird left it behind? The Duke’s mansion has all windows and doors shut tight every night, so it probably couldn’t have gotten inside.”

Something had definitely come in, yet no one saw it…

I silently mulled over that fact and let out a sigh.

“Head butler, was it Dayrick?”

“Yes, miss.”

“The messenger birds of the North are exceptionally well-trained. As you know, the North can become a battlefield at any time, and if that happens, we might not be able to deliver messages by human courier.”

“Does that mean…?”

“The messenger birds of the North know exactly who they need to deliver their letters to. And they know that after delivering it to that person, they must bring back a reply. Would such a messenger bird leave what it needed to deliver on a windowsill without handing it directly to the person?”

I tilted my head and looked at Dayrick.

The messenger birds that came to Jena were trained directly by me, Cleor, and Jena.

The bird Mother gave me as a gift just before she passed away, saying I should have my own messenger bird now, was extremely clever—Belly was her name.

Back then, the three of us had prearranged that all letters I sent would be received by Jena, to prepare for any contingency, and our clever Belly had never once misdelivered.

So that if I were ever in danger, Jena could take my place.

“Dayrick. However clever a messenger bird may be, it cannot simply tuck a letter into a windowsill and fly off in the dead of night when everyone is asleep.”

“I was short-sighted, miss. I’ll gather all those who stood watch last night and those who left work in the evening and investigate again.”

“Thank you.”

Fortunately, Dayrick seemed to understand what I said and left the room after a brief greeting.

Anyway, it seems he’s still the type who has to deal with things the moment they come to mind, just like before.

As I watched the door through which Dayrick had exited, Jena approached me.

“Do you think it was sent by someone other than Sir Cleor, miss?”

“Jena. I’d sooner believe that Belly, the bird we raised together, never left the North in the first place, than believe Cleor sent a note so unlike him.”

“True. Belly is so clever. If Belly had brought that note, I probably would have believed it.”

Jena said playfully and chuckled softly.

Of course—that bird was raised by the three of us together.

“What about Aunt? The Wellington Knights might have arrived by now.”

“The Marquis and Marchioness weren’t at home, so I passed it on to a maid I’d grown close with while I was there. She said she’d deliver it as soon as they returned.”

“Good. Anyway, let’s look into this quickly. If it really did come from Cleor, something urgent might have come up that requires him to return.”

“Yes, miss.”

Jena hurried out of the room, and I looked again at the note that had come to me.

If it wasn’t from Cleor, then that meant…

“So now that things aren’t going your way, you’re trying to sell off the territory too?”

I quietly gritted my teeth.

Everything was easier than expected.

Jackson thought so as he tucked the item he was carrying into his bosom.

For people working in such a grand mansion, they were incredibly naive and simple-minded.

When he said he’d come to stand watch in place of the usual person, they readily stepped aside. With just one forged letter of recommendation, they treated him as if he were one of their own.

He’d even learned where the maid of the would-be duchess stayed by overhearing their chatter.

He’d thought people working for a ducal house would be more thorough, but there was no sense of unease or tension.

Jackson hummed a little tune, pleased by the clinking sound in his pocket.

Easy. The job was too easy.

Was this really worth filling his pockets this much?

Jackson, who just yesterday had been worse off than a stone rolling on the ground, felt as if he’d suddenly become a bird flying in the sky.

With this money, he could probably live for at least two months.

He’d have plenty left even after buying the food and clothes he wanted.

Jackson walked along with a bouncy step, following the soft clinking sound.

—

*’Let me ask a favor of you.’*

The day grew colder, and he had nowhere to go.

Jackson, a vagrant wandering the streets, was about to fall asleep shivering from the cold that day.

If not for the sudden appearance of an old man with a heavy voice from somewhere.

The man said he’d give him money just for delivering a letter—and even offered a bonus if he wasn’t caught by anyone.

What’s more, the place where he had to deliver the letter was all too familiar to Jackson, so he accepted without hesitation.

The man said to go without being seen, so there must be something hidden, Jackson thought.

It wasn’t without misgivings, but with that much money, he wouldn’t have to sleep on the streets anymore, so he agreed.

The man said he’d prepare everything from the letter of recommendation on, so all Jackson had to do was go and come back.

It was a simpler task than expected. After going and returning lightly, even humming a tune, the money pouch in his hand was far larger than he’d imagined.

—

*’Oh, sir. If you ever have another job for me, please seek out this Jackson anytime. I’ll serve you faithfully.’*

Even as Jackson bent his back all the way to the ground, speaking effusively at the unexpectedly large sum, the man only smirked with a “pfft,” giving no reply.

Then he seemed to mutter something.

What was it?

Jackson tilted his head, mulling over what had happened, then shook his head to dispel the useless thoughts.

Today was a good day—let’s only think of good things!

Humming lalala, Jackson walked lightly toward the nearby inn.

The innkeeper’s cooking was decent, but the building was old so few people went there—yet for just one silver coin, one could enjoy a good meal, bathe in hot water, and sleep well.

Tonight, he could soak in warm water and sleep in a soft, fluffy bed.

A day’s indulgence couldn’t hurt.

Jackson clinked the money pouch in his pocket as he approached the inn.

The inn, from which a dim light was spilling, was unusually quiet today.

No guests tonight? He thought as he opened the door.

But as the door slowly swung open, someone blocked Jackson’s path.

“…?”

Must be someone who stayed here yesterday.

Jackson stepped aside to let the person, who had pulled their robe low over their face so it couldn’t be seen, pass.

He’d been kind enough to let them out, but instead, this person moved to block his way.

When he moved the other way, they blocked him again.

After several rounds of this nonsensical standoff, Jackson began to get annoyed.

Seriously, if someone steps aside for you, just go on your way—why keep blocking them and making a fuss?

So this time, he just stood still without moving, and now the person came charging straight at him?

Caught off guard, Jackson stumbled backward and fell with a thud.

“Ah, damn! Seriously!”

The moment his rear hit the ground with a thump, Jackson’s irritation flared up.

“I moved aside for you, so just go on your way nicely! Why are you hitting people?!”

He even pointed and yelled furiously.

How dare you knock someone down and just stand there gawking instead of apologizing? Why are you blocking the way and causing a ruckus? He screamed and stamped his feet.

From his long experience sleeping rough, Jackson knew that in times like this, you had to intimidate the other person.

Even after shouting like that and shoving the person’s shoulder with his hand, the figure before him didn’t budge an inch, just stood there.

Just as he thought he saw the man smirk—

“You sure talk a lot.”

*Thud*—something plunged into Jackson’s chest.

“Keh, keheok…”

It happened before he could even register what was going on.

A searing pain burned through the center of his body, and as he looked down, he saw the man’s sword pierced through him. Jackson coughed up blood.

What is this? What’s happening right now?

“I believe I told you. Once you get the money, get lost immediately.”

A low voice rumbled in Jackson’s ears.

A voice he’d heard somewhere before.

Jackson, his consciousness fading, barely managed to place whose voice it was.

“S-sir…”

An arrogant and heavy voice.

The man who had told him to deliver the letter in secret.

Jackson raised his crumbling hand and grabbed the hem of the robe.

“Should’ve understood after being told once.”

But as if to mock that gesture, the man lightly flicked Jackson’s hand away.

*Clink*—feeling the money pouch slip from his pocket, Jackson soon lost consciousness.