Working at a Haunted Mansion Chapter 125 - Side Story Chapter 1

Afterwards

By now, black smoke should be rising over the Imperial City, signaling the Emperor’s passing.

That smoke carried Lily’s share in it.

She had plenty of justifications: that the cult leader and the Emperor had paid the price they deserved; that it was the only way to keep her beloved safe; that Julius couldn’t have used the cult’s resurrection rite anyway.

But whatever the excuse, it did not change the fact that she had agreed to and aided in the taking of a man’s life.

She was neither executioner nor soldier. She had privately judged another’s worth and placed his life on the scales.

It was nothing like crushing a rat or a spider. The guilt pressed differently. Could she allow herself to be purely happy? Was it right to feel glad about someone’s death?

And yet undeniable relief and liberation seeped into her heart, carried on the fragrance of the bouquet.

This was the best choice I could have made. The best ending.

She thought quietly.

If this were a fairy tale, now would be the place for the line: “And from then on, they lived happily ever after.” A perfect ending.

An ending as typical as any story that closes with the villain’s death.

But life was not a book cover that sealed itself shut at the peak of joy. Beyond one mountain came another, beyond one river yet another.

And now, it was time for the problems she had tried to avoid to surface: mockery in high society, whispers aimed at the man who chose her, comparisons, tests, jeers—a bleak future indeed.

“Lily.”

“Yes?!”

The voice that pierced her thoughts jolted her back. Aiden was studying her closely.

“Your face is dark. Something troubling you?”

“…You caught me. I was thinking about what comes next, and I didn’t even realize…”

She gave him a sheepish smile.

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Hearing you say that makes me worry all the more.”

His words were no longer a simple comfort. Whenever Aiden told her not to worry, she found herself suspicious—wondering if he was plotting something behind her back.

Aiden only shrugged, as though accepting his fate.

“Unfair, but… yes, that’s my burden to bear.”

He took her hand.

“Lily, do you remember a proposal I made long ago?”

She searched her memory, and he clarified:

“I meant… adopting a new lineage.”

Then she remembered the leather binder she had seen the day she was first invited to his manor.

Names and profiles had flashed before her: an elderly baron couple who had lost their children, a count infamous for his affairs, a collateral noble raised in a monastery…

“You didn’t throw those papers away?”

Startled, she asked. His strong fingers closed more firmly around her hand.

“You refused back then because you had no thought of repairing our relationship. Even if some part of you considered it, you forced yourself to turn away.”

He urged gently:

“Now that things are different, maybe it’s worth reconsidering?”

Clearly, he had seen right through her earlier worries. His willingness to help moved her, but Lily shook her head.

“I don’t want to fake my origins. That would be like being ashamed of my family—as if my birth were something wrong. But there’s nothing wrong with me, or with them.”

“Of course.”

“And if word spread that I bought a title, people would laugh at that too—even if not to my face. Either way, they’d mock me, so I’d rather just steel myself and not care.”

Then she added the most important reason.

“Besides… you said once that things like lineage and status don’t matter to you. If you’re fine with it, then so am I.”

Aiden smiled. His face lit up as though clouds had shifted from the moon, bright and unguarded—almost worryingly so.

But Lily dismissed her needless concern. With all the times he had deceived others so flawlessly, there was no way he would ever slip elsewhere.

He was only this honest in front of her. The thought made her nose prickle warmly.

“I agree,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “There’s no need to hide what you are. You’re already enough, just as you are—why become anyone else?”

He seemed oddly delighted by her words, like a man who had just won the permission he’d hoped for.

Half-doubtful, Lily asked,

“…What are you planning?”

Aiden blinked wide-eyed, then narrowed his gaze with a playful smile. He mimicked her earlier words in a teasing tone:

“You caught me.”

He rocked their joined hands gently back and forth.

“When I looked into Lady Dienta and Count Otz’s connection, I also researched your family. Did you know your great-grandfather, Johann Midroff, was a professor at the Academy?”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

She had all but forgotten even her great-grandfather’s name.

“He wrote prolifically until the end of his life. The volume of work is enormous. It may not be fashionable scholarship anymore, but it has depth.”

Aiden opened her chamber door for her himself.

“If used wisely, no one will be able to disparage your lineage.”

“That’s one worry less.”

Her relief was genuine. Far better to be known as the great-granddaughter of an Academy professor than as a servant girl.

“And I’ll arrange a tutor to visit the townhouse and teach you etiquette. During Julius’s mourning period, you can pick up the basics.”

“Thank you.”

An etiquette tutor—surely a noble.

She didn’t want to seem obsessed with status, but she couldn’t keep her hands from trembling.

So far, the nobles she had met were disproportionately the highest in rank. Luckily, the urgency of past situations had made details of protocol unimportant.

But now things would be different. She would have to learn even how to walk and sit. How rustic she must look through a tutor’s eyes…

She drew a long breath.

Worrying in advance was a bad habit. Step by step, she would prepare. Step by step…

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

On a winter’s day just before the New Year, black smoke rose above the Imperial City.

The smoke signaled the Emperor’s death. People stopped whatever they were doing, hurried home, and pulled out mourning clothes.

The nobles who had stayed nearby all felt the same: the moment has finally come.

Since the Emperor had been attacked by the cult leader in the underground prison, he had never been the same.

His weakened steps, his slurred speech—signs that his recovery had never been complete, that he might collapse again at any time.

Because of this, nobles with the means to do so had remained in the capital even out of season, preparing for the inevitable.

Thanks to them, the Imperial Palace filled with people almost as soon as the smoke appeared.

The highest in rank—Empress, great lords, commanders of knightly orders, and royal relatives—gathered in the Emperor’s bedchamber, where priests performed rites of purification over Julius Scheiwatz’s body.

Afterward, they moved to the council chamber to discuss the steps that would follow.

Meanwhile, the lesser nobles, officials, wealthy merchants, and attendants of the great lords gathered in lounges and on terraces, speculating about who would take the Regency.

The infant Emperor had only just begun to walk.

Until he came of age, the Regent would, in practice, be the ruler of the Empire.

By right of tradition and Imperial law, the obvious choice was Empress Themis Scheiwatz.

But the Empress was flawed. She was incompetent, with no interest in the world outside the palace walls.

All she knew was how to coo prettily at the Emperor, indulge in lavish decoration, and gather young girls to play frivolous games. Entrusting the Empire to such a woman seemed far from wise.

In one corner of the terrace, Duke Kashimir’s name was being mentioned.

“Isn’t there any chance Duke Kashimir might be named Regent? I rather like him.”

“Not likely. He isn’t of royal blood. Still, given his closeness to the late Emperor, he’ll surely stand behind Prince Otto no matter what happens.”

Another voice, more daring, suggested involving the Empress’s family, the Counts of Zamir.

“Perhaps the Zamir family could arrange for the Empress to remarry—say, to Duke Kashimir. That would reduce the risk of the Empress ruling alone. The Duke would effectively run affairs of state. The Zamirs once considered him as a marriage prospect, after all.”

“Come now. Marrying his dead friend’s wife?”

“Think it through. Why else would the Duke still be unmarried? Maybe no bride has measured up. But if the dowry were the entire Empire, he wouldn’t refuse.”

“No, I can’t see it. Besides—he already has someone.”

The man lowered his voice, glancing around.

“Haven’t you heard? The Duke’s been keeping a certain woman at his side. They say she was with him even when he was attacked in the square.”