“…Are you saying you’ll tell people about the story between me and the Count?”
“Yes.”
The Countess of Olsen furrowed her brows, clearly confused by my firm response.
My plan was simple: just give her a reason.
A valid reason for why the Countess had been stubbornly obstructing the development of the mine.
“…There’s no need for that. I have no desire to share the private story between the Count and me with a bunch of strangers…”
“Then, are you just going to let them take your land?”
She pressed her lips together at my question.
‘Seriously, she’s unbelievably stubborn.’
I could understand, though.
There’s nothing more distasteful than having your cherished memories with someone you loved passionately being gossiped about by people who don’t even know you.
With a light sigh, I spoke again.
“If you want to protect that land and tree, you need to be persuasive. As I said, if you keep holding out with your lips sealed, it’ll just seem like stubbornness.”
“The story between the Count and me isn’t significant enough to stop the Marquess from developing the mine.”
“If we’re being technical, that’s true. But do you know this?”
I grinned mischievously, resting my chin on my hand.
“People are surprisingly drawn to a good story.”
“…What?”
Her expression turned uncertain again. I recognized that look.
It’s the face of someone thinking, ‘I don’t hold any grudge against you, but you’ve been talking nonsense for a while now.’
She really didn’t have a clue, did she?
“Why do you think people go crazy over unrealistic novels, and why have legends and myths full of exaggerated love stories endured for centuries?”
“…”
“People love the ‘stories’ within them.”
“I understand what you’re saying. But it’s been over a year since I’ve shown my face in society after the Count passed away, and I’m well aware that my reputation among the nobility isn’t great.”
She looked at me.
“So who’s going to listen to the personal story between the Count and me now?”
Looking into her weary eyes, I thought, ‘She’s more self-aware than I expected…’
She was right. At a glance, her situation seemed similar to Eloise’s, but the Countess of Olsen was in a much different position.
I had drawn attention by showing a change in my relationship with Ian, but even if the Countess suddenly made an appearance at a social event, it wouldn’t change much.
“The Marquess of Merry has a firm standing in society, unlike me. Trying to sway public opinion against such a powerful family now is…”
“Like trying to smash a rock with an egg.”
“You’re well aware.”
Of course, I knew. I never intended to waste my efforts on something so futile. Haven’t I already experienced how exhausting it is to deal directly with the nobility?
‘There’s a more effective way.’
As someone once said, a trick can also be a strategy.
I smiled slyly.
“…Have you ever heard of a daejabo?”
“A daejabo?”
“Yes. Originally, it’s a poster hung up to express opinions on political or social issues, but…”
With a crafty look, I struck the table.
“We’re going to use it to sway public opinion.”
There was something I learned deeply from my years of running a minor fandom on social media: the public doesn’t care about ‘facts.’ When an issue arises, people are quick to pretend they’re analyzing the situation fairly and rationally, but in reality, they just react to whatever is more interesting and provocative.
Some even get so absorbed in the sensationalism that they completely ignore the actual truth.
‘It’s just human nature, after all.’
In a world without computers or the internet, people are more excited by anonymous pamphlets whose truth can’t even be verified than by newspapers that strive to report objective facts.
‘What’s wrong with using that to our advantage?’
“Um… Your Grace?”
“Hmm?”
The Countess of Olsen looked at me with an awkward gaze.
“Your expression…”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
I really need to stop making such sinister expressions, especially in front of the princess.
I cleared my throat and put on my usual calm smile. Although it didn’t change the half-wary look the Countess of Olsen was giving me.
Before her gaze could become even more disapproving, I quickly changed the subject.
“By the way, how many servants have left this estate over the past year?”
“Servants, you say?”
“Yes, specifically, the ones who quit after the Count passed away.”
When the Count died and the Countess became half a recluse, neglecting the household, the servants must have gradually left the estate, unable to endure the situation.
You could tell just by the gloomy and heavy atmosphere in the reception room as I walked in.
After rolling her eyes for a moment, the Countess hesitated before answering.
“…Eight out of ten of the original servants have left.”
“As I thought.”
I nodded confidently and looked around the reception room.
“In that case, it would be difficult to track down who leaked any secrets that were circulating only within this estate.”
“…Pardon me, but I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.”
As I looked back at the Countess, I smiled brightly.
“The daejabo we’re going to use will be written as if it came from one of those servants who left this estate.”
“…What?”
Unsurprisingly, her reaction was one of disbelief.
“How could a daejabo written by us become something supposedly written by a former servant?”
Goodness, how do you deal with such a stubborn noblewoman?
Suppressing the sigh that was about to escape, I replied.
“Have you ever heard of the ‘third-person effect’?”
Instead of answering, I questioned her back in a cheerful tone, and the Countess of Olsen shook her head, bewildered.
“The term refers to the idea that people are more likely to trust information delivered by a third party, someone seemingly unrelated to the person involved, rather than by the person themselves.”
That might be a bit hard to understand, right?
With a wink, I explained it a little more simply.
“As you mentioned, even if you, who don’t have the best reputation in society, personally write a daejabo, the nobles would just think that the Countess of Olsen is doing something desperate to keep her land.”
The Countess flinched at my blunt and straightforward words.
“But if the daejabo was written not by you, but by one of the servants who left this estate, the story changes.”
I flashed a triumphant smile.
“…If it’s a daejabo put up by a former servant, indeed, more people would believe it.”
“Exactly. You get it.”
I extended my index finger and made a “bang” gesture as if shooting a gun. The Countess, who had been staring at my finger, finally spoke.
“…But isn’t that a lie?”
“Do you really have the luxury of worrying about that right now?”
I clicked my tongue.
“But…”
Her voice trailed off.
She might not know, but there’s a saying: “If you do it poorly, it’s a lie; if you do it well, it’s strategy.” In a public opinion battle, there’s nothing more effective than a little soft deception at a crucial moment.
Arms crossed, I gave her a sidelong glance and asked,
“Even if you use the identity of a former servant to reveal the truth, does that make the story between you and the Count any less true?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“It doesn’t really matter ‘who’ reveals the truth.”
I cut her off and shrugged, making the Countess press her lips together.
‘Being overly upright is also a problem.’
With the mine and the trees on the verge of being taken away, is that really important right now?
Sighing dramatically, I pretended to get up.
“Well, if what I’ve said so far doesn’t move you, there’s nothing I can do. I suppose you could just hand the mine over to the Marquess of Merry at this point and…”
“W-wait.”
The Countess of Olsen hurriedly grabbed my arm.
♧♧♧
If you want to support the translation and the translator, please buy a coffee 🐳
