The planting of carrots proved to be a law unto itself – a boundary separating the expert’s touch from the wild unknown. Arlen Manor’s farming methods were no exception, save for the addition of Acid, a top-tier commodity that demanded a princely sum. As an exclusive contract, it was apparent that any funds allocated for carrot replacement had already been squandered on the Viscount’s lavish estate decorations.
Ilyin’s calculating gaze narrowed as she tallied the numbers. Swift in her assessments, she quickly recalled the budget of Biflten, tilting her head in slight bewilderment. In comparison, Arlen’s estate was paltry, a mere shadow of its larger counterpart.
The looming threat of financial difficulty was unprecedented in the Arlen family’s history, leaving Ilyin with a growing sense of unease. Aden’s hand found its way to Ilyin’s shoulder, the reassuring touch offering a moment of solace. There was no need to rush into a decision.
Aden cast Cass a glance, silently urging him to hold his tongue. As the general manager of the case, it was only right to defer to the lady with the pseudonym ‘L’. Her Highness had spoken, and L was the one in charge. With the air thick with uncertainty, a heavy silence settled upon the room.
Aden quietly poured Ilyin a cup of tea, mindful not to embarrass her. When Etra approached, eager to take the teapot, Aden gave a sly wink to deter her. “Would you like to eat and ponder?” Aden pushed a cup of hot tea towards Ilyin, who looked down at the steaming cup with a smile. In the winter region where alcohol was the norm and tea was a rarity, it was uncommon for the Duke of Winter to offer a hand-poured cup of tea.
“Thank you,” Ilyin murmured, about to take a sip before noticing the tea had been brewed improperly, with the hot water added too quickly. The resulting brew was acrid and bitter, but Ilyin chose not to comment, instead planning to teach Aden the proper method at a later time.
“He’s begging for mercy…” A sudden thought occurred to Ilyin. Why should she be so stubborn? Was there not something to gain from being charitable, especially if it benefitted her in some way? Yet the very idea of aiding the Viscount left a sour taste in her mouth.
“What would Viscount Arlen think, ten years from now, if I had achieved greater success and status than he had?” Ilyin mused, tilting her teacup as the bitter brew invigorated her senses. There was no reason to show him mercy, not when it would only serve to diminish the value of the top-tier Acid.
[Follow the contract terms.]
One word was all that was necessary. Ilyin knew what had to be done, for the financial blow of a failed delivery would be devastating for the already-struggling Viscount.
“Set your worries aside,” Aden spoke, taking a seat across from Ilyin. He grasped her fingers and his fingers began to gently stroke the back of Ilyin’s hand, drawing her gaze to the elegant movement.
“They say I do all the bad things,” Aden continued, causing Ilyin to belatedly look up at him. He chuckled softly.
“The title of Northern Distribution Manager was given to bring down the Viscount in your name.” Ilyin recalled this unfamiliar fact, the introduction made during her meeting with the Viscount as L., the Northern Distribution Manager at Acid.
“I never meant to soil your hands,” Aden said, reaching out to take Ilyin’s hand on his own. The warmth between their hands was comforting, and Ilyin held onto her teacup tightly. Aden’s grip, normally firm with anger, was surprisingly gentle.
“Ilyin, you can take him down with your own hands,” Aden said, his fingers gently caressing her tender skin. The sensation was familiar yet it still sent shivers down her spine. “Do whatever you please.”
He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her forehead before standing up. “I’m the lowest of the low, so feel free to take any action necessary.”
Ilyin’s grip on the teacup tightened, and she reflected on her growth. The first time she met the viscount, she was trembling with anxiety, but now, the thought of taking him down did not faze her. She smiled at the realization.
Before Cass left the room, Ilyin gave her final instruction, “Make sure to enforce the contract with the viscount.” Aden nodded in agreement, and Cass bowed deeply before exiting. Aden’s grip on Ilyin’s hand was firm, causing Ilyin to instinctively release her hold, which had become so tight that her fingernails were visible on her palms.
“By the way, Ilyin,” Aden asked, pointing to the letter she had received. “Do you know who wrote this?” It was a letter supposedly from Viscount Arlen, but Ilyin had previously said that her father had not written it. Her expression darkened as she confirmed, “The Viscount’s clerk would have written it.”
“Do you know the clerk?” Aden asked, and Ilyin tilted her head in confusion.
Why is he curious? Ilyin thought. “I only know his name,” she explained.
Aden kissed her softly again. “What is his name?” he asked.
Ilyin replied, “…Cedric.”
Ilyin raised an eyebrow. You’re not thinking of recruiting that knight to the Delrose knights, are you? Aden approached Ilyin from across the table, admiring her lovely appearance.
Clunk.
As he moved, the table shook and the lid of the teacup rattled. He soon lowered himself onto Ilyin, bursting into hearty laughter.
The planting of carrots proved to be a law unto itself – a boundary separating the expert’s touch from the wild unknown. Arlen Manor’s farming methods were no exception, save for the addition of Acid, a top-tier commodity that demanded a princely sum. As an exclusive contract, it was apparent that any funds allocated for carrot replacement had already been squandered on the Viscount’s lavish estate decorations.
Ilyin’s calculating gaze narrowed as she tallied the numbers. Swift in her assessments, she quickly recalled the budget of Biflten, tilting her head in slight bewilderment. In comparison, Arlen’s estate was paltry, a mere shadow of its larger counterpart.
The looming threat of financial difficulty was unprecedented in the Arlen family’s history, leaving Ilyin with a growing sense of unease. Aden’s hand found its way to Ilyin’s shoulder, the reassuring touch offering a moment of solace. There was no need to rush into a decision.
Aden cast Cass a glance, silently urging him to hold his tongue. As the general manager of the case, it was only right to defer to the lady with the pseudonym ‘L’. Her Highness had spoken, and L was the one in charge. With the air thick with uncertainty, a heavy silence settled upon the room.
Aden quietly poured Ilyin a cup of tea, mindful not to embarrass her. When Etra approached, eager to take the teapot, Aden gave a sly wink to deter her. “Would you like to eat and ponder?” Aden pushed a cup of hot tea towards Ilyin, who looked down at the steaming cup with a smile. In the winter region where alcohol was the norm and tea was a rarity, it was uncommon for the Duke of Winter to offer a hand-poured cup of tea.
“Thank you,” Ilyin murmured, about to take a sip before noticing the tea had been brewed improperly, with the hot water added too quickly. The resulting brew was acrid and bitter, but Ilyin chose not to comment, instead planning to teach Aden the proper method at a later time.
“He’s begging for mercy…” A sudden thought occurred to Ilyin. Why should she be so stubborn? Was there not something to gain from being charitable, especially if it benefitted her in some way? Yet the very idea of aiding the Viscount left a sour taste in her mouth.
“What would Viscount Arlen think, ten years from now, if I had achieved greater success and status than he had?” Ilyin mused, tilting her teacup as the bitter brew invigorated her senses. There was no reason to show him mercy, not when it would only serve to diminish the value of the top-tier Acid.
[Follow the contract terms.]
One word was all that was necessary. Ilyin knew what had to be done, for the financial blow of a failed delivery would be devastating for the already-struggling Viscount.
“Set your worries aside,” Aden spoke, taking a seat across from Ilyin. He grasped her fingers and his fingers began to gently stroke the back of Ilyin’s hand, drawing her gaze to the elegant movement.
“They say I do all the bad things,” Aden continued, causing Ilyin to belatedly look up at him. He chuckled softly.
“The title of Northern Distribution Manager was given to bring down the Viscount in your name.” Ilyin recalled this unfamiliar fact, the introduction made during her meeting with the Viscount as L., the Northern Distribution Manager at Acid.
“I never meant to soil your hands,” Aden said, reaching out to take Ilyin’s hand on his own. The warmth between their hands was comforting, and Ilyin held onto her teacup tightly. Aden’s grip, normally firm with anger, was surprisingly gentle.
“Ilyin, you can take him down with your own hands,” Aden said, his fingers gently caressing her tender skin. The sensation was familiar yet it still sent shivers down her spine. “Do whatever you please.”
He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on her forehead before standing up. “I’m the lowest of the low, so feel free to take any action necessary.”
Ilyin’s grip on the teacup tightened, and she reflected on her growth. The first time she met the viscount, she was trembling with anxiety, but now, the thought of taking him down did not faze her. She smiled at the realization.
Before Cass left the room, Ilyin gave her final instruction, “Make sure to enforce the contract with the viscount.” Aden nodded in agreement, and Cass bowed deeply before exiting. Aden’s grip on Ilyin’s hand was firm, causing Ilyin to instinctively release her hold, which had become so tight that her fingernails were visible on her palms.
“By the way, Ilyin,” Aden asked, pointing to the letter she had received. “Do you know who wrote this?” It was a letter supposedly from Viscount Arlen, but Ilyin had previously said that her father had not written it. Her expression darkened as she confirmed, “The Viscount’s clerk would have written it.”
“Do you know the clerk?” Aden asked, and Ilyin tilted her head in confusion.
Why is he curious? Ilyin thought. “I only know his name,” she explained.
Aden kissed her softly again. “What is his name?” he asked.
Ilyin replied, “…Cedric.”
Ilyin raised an eyebrow. You’re not thinking of recruiting that knight to the Delrose knights, are you? Aden approached Ilyin from across the table, admiring her lovely appearance.
Clunk.
As he moved, the table shook and the lid of the teacup rattled. He soon lowered himself onto Ilyin, bursting into hearty laughter.
