IHHLU Chapter 42

She was trembling, gripping the revolver clumsily with both hands like someone who had never fired a gun before.

 

Her ragged breath escaped through her parted lips. A shadow slipped beneath her feet. As she removed her hood, revealing her identity, the hooded man beside her—who had just taken the revolver from her—let out a deep sigh.

 

“Step back,” the blonde woman spoke firmly, and the count and countess stared at her as if spellbound.

 

For a moment, a flicker of despair crossed Erschein’s face, which had been expressionless until now.

 

It wasn’t because he had lost his hand; his hand was perfectly intact.

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be; He said to himself in anguish;.…Not like this.

.

.

.

The ornate grip of the revolver dug into my palm, pressing hard against the soft flesh as if it might embed itself there.

 

And my arms were still shaking—whether from the recoil or the shock of firing it.

 

Siegfried had handled a gun so effortlessly that I hadn’t realized just how hard it was to actually pull the trigger. The bullet had shattered one side of the wall in a strangely beautiful way.

 

Everyone was staring at me, and as I slowly lowered my arms, the weight of reality came crashing down—sharp, vivid, and overwhelming.

 

It all felt too real.

 

Just moments before, Franz had drawn his revolver, keeping a wary eye on the count. But he didn’t shoot. The gun looked just like him—golden, with an especially ornate grip.

 

Snatching it away had been laughably easy.

 

And then….

 

Bang!

 

I knew how to shoot. I had watched Siegfried do it with such grace, seen exactly how he pulled the trigger.

 

The plump, middle-aged man stared at me, stunned. The woman beside him furrowed her brow ever so slightly.

 

Then the man rose to his feet, ready to protest in a manner unbefitting a noble gentleman…

 

“…You!”

 

A sharp voice cut in beside me, forcing me to turn my head.

 

Franz was glaring at me, his handsome face twisted in frustration.

 

“Have you lost your mind?”

 

His brows were drawn tight. Then, as if realizing all was already lost, he averted his gaze, muttering,

 

“Under Imperial law, any discharge of a firearm in the capital that wasn’t authorized by His Majesty the Emperor or justified as self-defense is.…”

 

Beyond Franz, who seemed to be suppressing his anger, the middle-aged man’s eyes narrowed.

 

Well, another fact I’d just learned: the Empire’s tolerance for firearms only applied when it came to Roam.

 

And another thing, painfully obvious now: the witnesses…..were nobles.

 

I lowered my head and looked at the revolver in my hand.

 

This wasn’t looking good.

 

But Siegfried carried one around like it was second nature.

 

Whenever I got close to him, the thing that always kept me a hand’s breadth away was that revolver tucked into his inner pocket.

 

He used It so naturally, so matter-of-factly, that I’d assumed firing one wouldn’t be an issue.

 

“I bring you out just this once, and this is what you do…” Franz muttered under his breath, clearly irritated.

 

He grumbled that Rochester, already on thin ice with the emperor, would end up taking the fall for this too.

 

“How are we even supposed to clean this mess up? Damn it, you really are…”

 

“Well, well. Look who we have here.”

 

To make matters worse, the middle-aged man stood and walked toward me, sarcasm smeared all over his face.

 

I knew that face well. I’d seen it often in passing at social gatherings.

 

Count Lambert.

 

He was notorious in both the moneylending and textile trades, infamous for squeezing every drop of labor from his underpaid workers.

 

His voice was loud enough to make you turn your head without meaning to….

 

And my opinion of him had always been the same; He was someone I absolutely did not want to get involved with.

 

“…Aren’t you that famous Lady Roam?”

 

“Darling.”

 

The countess tried to stop him, half-covering her mouth with her fan, but the count, clearly enjoying himself, strode over to me.

 

With two thick gold rings gleaming on his index and ring fingers, he tapped me on the shoulder.

 

“What brings a woman as busy and important as yourself—helping debutantes make their grand entrance, attending event after event—to a place as shabby as this? Don’t tell me… your husband’s been neglecting you?”

 

“Logan!” The countess spoke up in haste, but he didn’t so much as glance her way.

 

Instead, he slowly tapped my shoulder again, then dragged his hand down my arm before continuing,

 

“And dressed so mysteriously, no less. Makes you think there’s truth to that old saying—everyone has at least one secret. Quite true, wouldn’t you say?”

 

The yellowed teeth showing between his parted lips made his grin look downright lecherous.

 

I’d deliberately left that greasy, self-satisfied face off the guest list for the ball I hosted for Jane—because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him there.

 

How that was the first ball where my husband had finally made a public appearance at my side; For someone like him, who thrived on gossip, missing “all of that” might’ve been a tragedy—or a blessing in disguise.

 

“It seems I’ve, ah, accidentally damaged the little toy you brought for your secret rendezvous. My apologies.”

 

He jerked his chin toward Erschein and let out an unpleasant snicker.

 

“Well, there’s no such thing as a perfect lie, is there? Loneliness can be such an unbearable thing. I suppose the lies you kept spouting weren’t enough to fill that void, hmm?”

 

“Darling!” his wife anxiously called out again.

 

“Shut up, you useless woman! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation?”

 

“I apologize on his behalf, Lady Roam. He’s been… drinking during the day again…”

 

“I’m perfectly sober! And why the hell would I have anything to apologize for to her? That woman is always babbling about how much her husband loves her—every damn day, spouting that nonsense!”

 

I cast a quick glance at Franz. He was glaring at the count, his fists tightly clenched, as if he had been the one insulted.

 

Seems like it’s fine for him to insult me, but no one else is allowed to do the same.

 

It’s funny how sibling relationships, no matter the time or place, always seemed to be the same.

 

I turned my gaze back to the count, who was busy berating his wife, rambling on about how the Siegfried didn’t cancel the Empress’s banquet because of that Rochester woman(me), but because of his beloved sister, or something like that.

 

Yeah, maybe that’s what some people thought.

 

That I hadn’t shown up to the ball the previous night.

 

So be it.

 

I took a step and moved toward Erschein. For some reason, the back of my head felt prickling, but I paid it no mind and quietly crouched down on the floor.

 

But Erschein, drenched in blood, didn’t lift his head to acknowledge me.

 

“Hello,” I said but he didn’t respond to my greetings.

 

What a difficult artist to deal with; I sighed inwardly.

 

I silently stared down at him, and I wondered: What would the real Milena would say in this situation?

 

“You made me curious about your painting….” I said again.

 

“……”

 

“”To think you’d give up your hand so easily. How presumptuous of you.”

 

He still didn’t answer. His sharp jawline, partially revealed beneath the brown hair that obscured his face, was just as striking as when I first met him.

 

“If there’s something you want to do with your life, something you truly desire, you should treasure the chance you were given to pursue it.”

 

Now that I thought about it, I once had dreams like Erschein. I wanted to go to medical school. Seriously enough to consider taking the college entrance exam more than once.

 

Just seeing doctors in their white coats on TV would make my heart race.

 

But in the end, I compromised with reality. I attended and graduated from a decent engineering school in Seoul, in line with my grades, and got a job.

 

But every now and then, old memories would float to the surface. Like when I stumbled across a line in my old diary wishing for a med school acceptance. Or when someone casually mentioned a friend who got in. Or when I’d catch a glimpse of high school students, chattering excitedly about their dreams.

 

If only I’d known back then that instead of becoming a doctor, I’d end up barely scraping by as a healer in some fantasy world…

 

I let out a bitter laugh and looked down at Erschein again.

 

“So, what am I supposed to do?”

 

Funny. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud—it was more of a self-deprecating remark. But then, a drop of blood fell, sliding down the bridge of Erschein’s sharp nose before hitting the floor with a soft splatter.

 

It seemed there was moisture mixed in; tears perhaps.

 

“…I don’t like you enough to treat you.”

 

Even as I said it, I still reached out and touched his cheek, his shoulder twitching at the sudden contact.

 

I healed him—just enough to keep him alive. Healing him completely would’ve drained me, and Siegfried would have notice as soon as I got home.

 

There was no way I’d put Erschein through what he went through today a second time.

 

“Use your talent as your shield,” I said as I took off one of my earrings, and placed it in his hand. “…Because I don’t think I can be that shield for you.”

 

“……”

 

“This should give you a place to start.”

 

It was a pair of earrings I’d held dear. Not because Siegfried had given them to me, but because they were the real Milena’s personal property. The latter could be sold without Siegfried ever noticing. They were perfect for funding an escape—but I figured this much I could part with.

 

“You can sell them. My husband will never know about it, so rest easy, painter.”

 

I gave his head a light tap with my hand, hoping it might bring him some small comfort.

 

“Your paintings are worth as much as the passion you pour into them.”

 

I gently closed his hand around the earrings, And just as I was about to stand up……

 

“You ignorant little brat! You don’t even know your place!”

 

A booming voice rang out beside me—the exact kind of noise I had no patience for.

 

But the insult wasn’t aimed at me.

 

No. Count Lambert was now facing Franz, their eyes locked, neither one backing down.

 

“Apologize,” Franz demanded.

 

I wasn’t particularly bothered myself, but it seemed Franz was determined to get an apology for what the Count had said to me earlier.

 

The Count scoffed at him, clearly amused.

 

“You’ve miscalculated, boy! If you think you can swagger about relying on her empty shell of a marriage– then you’re gravely mistaken. Gravely mistaken indeed!…Your sister here is accountable for unauthorized gunfire, and got caught red-handed in what looks an awful lot like an affair. What do you think His Grace, the Duke of Roam, will say when he finds out his wife ran away just to meet her lover?”

 

“She is not having an affair.”

 

“Oh? Then shall we debate that in court, hmm? I’m slandering her you say? Sure, let’s call it that—if it makes you feel better.”

 

With that, the count pulled a glove from his jacket pocket and tossed it at Franz.

 

Thud.

 

The glove struck Franz’s chest before tumbling to the floor.

 

“Then I hereby challenge you to a duel—for obstructing my lawful execution of this thief. But tell me, do you even have the strength to fight?”

 

The count’s expression twisted with even more blatant malice.

 

“You, the illustrious heir of House Rochester hasn’t used a single spell ever since you got here. One might assume you’re completely drained of power, am I wrong?”

 

Franz said nothing, and the count raised his pistol, aiming it directly at him.

 

“I hate to say it, but… farewell. After all, to ensure my testimony stands as fact…”

 

Franz raised both hands, glaring at the Count.

 

“It’d be better if you end up as a corpse.”

 

The middle-aged man chuckled, clearly amused by Franz’s defiance.

 

“And what do you plan to do with that furious expression of yours, hmm? There’s only two of you, and we—”

 

“Only two of us?”

 

At the sound of my voice, both men turned to look at me. Even the servants who had been standing silently behind the count shifted their eyes toward me, the tension in the air sharp enough to cut.

 

Franz shook his head slightly when our gazes met—warning me to stay out of it.

 

“Who says so?”

 

My voice was sharp, my tone dripping with arrogance and audacity—just like the Milena everyone here knew.

 

“This silly girl clearly doesn’t understand the situa….”

 

“No.”

 

It was almost too easy to cut him off.

 

“It seems to me it’s the loudmouth that you are who doesn’t understand the situation.”

 

As the count’s brows furrowed, my own lips quirking into a smirk.

 

“You say my marriage is an empty shell, are you sure about that?”

 

“But of cour….”

 

“Then why, I wonder, is the street outside packed with Roam men right now?”

 

Well, I had a pretty good idea.

 

I watched with satisfaction as the Count’s face flickered with uncertainty.

 

“Let’s go over it again, shall we?” I continued my voice like ice. “If I’m right, you’ve got—what? Eight men, give or take?”

 

“……”

 

“Whereas we….”

 

Naturally, the bastard didn’t let me finish.

 

“Don’t make me laugh! That’s assuming you live long enough to count….”

 

Click.

 

The hammer of his revolver locked into place….

 

“Madam!”

 

But at the same time, a voice rang out from the shattered doorway. Benjamin stood there, one hand gripping what was left of the frame as he caught his breath, behind him, a wall of men filled the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes locked on the Count.

 

“Just as you instructed, Madam. I alerted the household and brought reinforcements.”

 

I turned back to the count, my smile slow and deliberate.

 

“…Hard to count when there are so many, don’t you think?”