Nerys didn't sleep that night.
She sat by the window, the pale moonlight drawing a thin silver line across the floor. Her fingers kept brushing the edge of the velvet curtain unconsciously, as if searching for something tangible to anchor her drifting thoughts.
Ever since she returned home after saying goodbye to Henry, she felt as though the world around her had shifted—
as if she had taken one step outside the "old Nerys"… and into unfamiliar ground.
She realized now that social power wasn't about attending parties or saying the right words; it was a web… a delicate network of alliances and influence, woven as precisely as a spider's web, and its threads often converged in the hands of a single woman.
And the most powerful woman in the entire Empire was…
the Dowager Duchess, Helen von Dysshard, the widow of the eldest son, William Dysshard. A woman who ruled the duchy alone after her husband's death, until the second son returned.
A woman with a very particular reputation: overwhelming presence, flawless at reading people. Nerys had heard rumors about her even in her previous life.
Rumors said the new duke would marry his brother's widow to restore the duchy's strength. A beautiful woman like Helen, with her family's power and her intelligence—
even the Crown Prince would want to marry her, widow or not, just to extend his influence.
Compared to her…
Cecile was nothing.
And to reach such a level…
Nerys first needed to understand how to build her own spiderweb.
But even before any of that, she had to identify the reason behind her own murder. She had to uncover how her father became entangled in Adrian's imprisonment.
And that led to only one place…
A place she had heard about—famous even in her past life.
But in her current circumstances, while she was still just a child, no one would trust her.
While she searched her thoughts for a way to enter that place, someone knocked on the door.
It was Mary, checking on her as usual.
And then—
a smile curled on Nerys' lips.
One look at the maid…
and Nerys understood exactly how she would get inside.
The next afternoon, Nerys sat inside the carriage, with Mary in front of her—nervous, trembling as she tried to adjust her new silk gloves.
She had never worn such a heavy dress, or one with embroidered hems.
Even the perfume Nerys put on her was too strong, making her rub her wrist anxiously.
But the orders were clear:
"You'll go instead of me. They will suspect me. But you… no one will question you."
The carriage moved through the old merchant district, where the buildings were low, the traffic sparse, and the air filled with the scent of spices and tanned leather.
The wheels rattled over uneven stone, sometimes drowned by a distant dog's bark or a vendor shouting about his goods.
The carriage stopped at a narrow, nearly deserted street.
On its entrance hung an old wooden sign:
La Grande
A quiet café—dimmer than expected for midday, even with candles lit in every corner.
The lighting was warm and reddish, stretching the shadows along the walls like long arms.
When Mary stepped inside…
She was hit by the smell of roasted coffee, mixed with light tobacco and burnt honey.
Chairs scraped the wooden floor, whispers wove together, and a large mirror behind the counter reflected the place as if showing a second overlapping world.
At the center…
stood a massive man, shoulders broad enough to look more like a guardian of the underworld than a simple waiter.
Mary lifted her chin, trying to appear noble despite her trembling heart.
"I would like…"
She paused, remembering the line she memorized.
"Bitter coffee."
The code phrase.
She raised the pouch full of gold coins in her hand.
The man looked at the pouch.
Then at Mary.
Then nodded, his voice rumbling like stones grinding together:
"Follow me."
He led her behind a curtain to a narrow wooden door.
When he opened it, the air shifted immediately.
The scent grew heavier—thick incense, burnt vanilla, and the musty smell of old paper.
The room was small, its walls draped in dark fabrics that swallowed the light.
In the center stood a round table with a single tall candle on it—its flame swaying slowly, as if listening.
The woman seated behind the table…
was slender, with black hair slicked back, and eyes like twin abysses pulling you inward.
She lifted her gaze as Mary entered.
"Welcome, strange visitor," she said, her voice soft but cold.
Mary swallowed.
It felt as though the words stuck to her throat—the air too heavy to breathe—but she forced herself to speak steadily:
"I want information."
The woman's lips curved in a thin, unfriendly smile—
the kind worn by someone who knows she sells poison in beautiful bottles.
"About whom?"
"About the new duke… Adrian von Dysshard. I want to know what really happened in the attempted assassination of the second prince."
With every word leaving Mary's mouth, the walls felt as if they were inching closer.
The woman's eyes gleamed.
"That only?"
Mary hesitated—then added:
"And about Marquis Holsten… whether he's involved. And about some noble ladies of high society."
The woman tilted her head, evaluating the weight of the request.
"This kind of information… is expensive."
Mary raised the pouch of gold.
"I'll pay."
The woman studied her for a moment—
then began to speak.
Her voice was calm, but her words were sharp, detailed, cutting through layers of secrets.
The information she gave…
was like unraveling a massive hidden knot beneath the entire society:
When Adrian was eighteen, he purchased a rare medicine for a friend.
But the medicine turned out to be poison.
Somehow, it ended up in the hands of the second prince, who suffered severe poisoning but survived at the last moment.
And the one orchestrating everything…
was Marquis Holsten.
All the accusations pointed directly at Adrian.
Then she spoke of the noblewomen's secrets—
who cheated, who hated whom, who could be swayed with a small compliment, who was starting a new business, and who should be avoided because she was protected by someone powerful.
Mary memorized everything.
Back at the estate…
Nerys sat in the back garden beneath a large tree, its branches arching over the stone benches. The scent of damp grass rose with the cool wind. The sky was gray, and the air cold enough to make fingers tremble.
Mary told her everything on their way home, and with each revelation, Nerys' expression grew quieter.
She no longer doubted it.
Her father was involved.
And the path to clearing Adrian's name began by finding the original supplier of the medicine—the same man William Dysshard had once searched for.
Adrian's personal assistant would one day track him down…
so Nerys needed to find him first.
And she also needed to present the acquisition plan she had been forming.
In the future, Adrian would build a major railway connecting Bernova and Lithivia after the war—exploding trade routes and transport.
The Dysshard Duchy was supposed to own this project.
But due to the duchy's financial shortage, Adrian would be forced to accept massive investments from various partners, losing both profit and influence.
In short—
he appeared to be the owner,
but in reality, he was just one minor shareholder among many.
Nerys lifted her gaze to a low-hanging branch as she continued to think.
Her acquisition plan would greatly improve the duchy's financial situation, increasing liquidity, reducing future dependency on investors.
The plan was simple: acquire Argos Shipbuilding.
A small company specializing in commercial ships.
During the war, it would go bankrupt—trade blocked, ports closed, assets frozen.
If the duke acquired it beforehand and sold it before the war…
it would generate quick, impressive profit.
Nerys paused—
her lips curving upward triumphantly.
"Not just that," she murmured. "We'll change its focus. Instead of commercial ships… we'll secretly build warships until the war begins."
She clasped her hands together and stretched her arms forward, smiling with victorious delight.
"A new exclusive contract with the Imperial Palace. Brilliant, Nerys."
She was still reveling in her thoughts when she heard approaching footsteps.
She turned—
and found Henry.
He stood before her, dressed elegantly, his blond hair moving with the soft breeze. His eyes searched for hers gently.
"Nerys? I was looking for you."
Lately she had been keeping up with her scheduled meetings with Henry—only because her father was observing. She replied to him occasionally, but the moment he brought up Cecile, she lost all interest.
But she couldn't avoid these meetings.
Henry sat beside her on the cold, slightly damp stone bench. He shivered when his hand touched the surface.
"I was… wondering why you're always alone."
"I like being alone."
"Isn't it boring to spend all your time by yourself? It would be better if you spent time with Cecile."
Internally, Nerys scoffed.
Of course.
He was here for Cecile.
Always for Cecile.
She answered while staring at the grass:
"You can go to Cecile if you want."
Henry hurried to correct himself.
"No, that's not what I meant. I'm just curious why you prefer being alone."
"I already told you—I like solitude. But it gets boring when I have too much on my mind."
Henry leaned forward.
"And what things are occupying your mind?"
Nerys looked at him with annoyance.
"Things like how Henry is an irritatingly curious person."
Henry flinched dramatically.
"That hurts. If the Marquis heard that, he might think you truly lack manners."
She stared flatly.
"Are you threatening me?"
He laughed lightly.
"No, not at all. Actually, Lady Nerys is brutally honest—especially with me. It's sad… but also good in a way."
"And what's 'good' about it?"
"That you treat me differently. It means I'm not just some ordinary, forgettable person."
"Don't overestimate yourself, Henry. You are ordinary. Your existence is practically irrelevant."
He laughed wholeheartedly.
"You really are straightforward, Nerys…"
He paused, then added softly:
"And different."
She lifted her gaze.
His expression wasn't the same as before.
He looked serious… searching for something in her eyes.
She had never experienced a conversation like this with Henry in her past life. He had always been polite toward her—polite in a detached, empty way that she misunderstood as affection.
Her thoughts were broken when he said quietly:
"You're not like Cecile. You have something… special."
Nerys felt a freeze run down her veins.
That sentence—
She would never fall for it again.
Thank God Henry in front of me is still a naïve teenager, she thought.
I won't be swayed by him now.
She remembered the debut ball—
how he promised to be her partner…
then left her in front of everyone to stand beside Cecile.
Cecile had played both of them. She told him Nerys found a more suitable partner… while telling Nerys nothing.
Then she abandoned Nerys in front of everyone, causing a scandal that haunted her for years.
Nerys remembered Henry's apology shortly before her marriage—
and how she could never forgive him or Cecile.
So she told him coldly:
"Of course I'm different. So be careful not to fall for me instead of Cecile."
He laughed. A short, warm laugh.
"Don't worry. I know we won't ever be… anything. But maybe—just maybe—we could be good friends."
Friends.
A word spoken by someone who had no idea how deeply he had wounded her before.
She looked at him in silence.
He didn't know the truth:
Cecile would break his heart too.
She would use them both—
then abandon them as soon as she secured her engagement to Adrian von Dysshard.
While Henry waited for her reply—
Nerys stood up.
With a small, emotionless smile, she said:
"Let's go inside. It's too cold out here."
That night, she sat at her desk, finishing a letter. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and whispered to herself with quiet determination:
"I'm walking steadily toward my goals so far. He won't reject my request. The only unpredictable variable… is the future Duke, Adrian von Dysshard. Until he appears, I must solidify my position."