69. The Legend of Saintess Anette

“Hey, who exactly is that person that you’re so moved by?”

Patients who couldn’t contain their curiosity were already approaching the patient who had called me “my lady” to probe about my identity.

‘Should I really not tell them?’

He looked at me with desperate eyes, wanting to praise my greatness right away.

‘Yes. In this space, I want to remain as just one volunteer.’

I rejected his intention with the most benevolent expression.

“Sniff!”

“Hey, why are you covering your mouth? Just tell us.”

Be impressed by me.

Think of me as someone who does good deeds without losing humility or boasting.

Spread rumors that I’m an angel-like person who, despite being of noble birth as the Grand Duchess of Inkheart, rolls up her sleeves and personally cares for patients in hospital beds!

And let this rumor spread and take root, so that even the temple acknowledges my holiness, and someday Inkheart will have a patron saint called Saint Anette! I deserve praise for planning my reputation centuries into the future, hohoho!

‘Huhuhu, if all these newly influxed people take my side, my victory in the divorce trial in the future is guaranteed.’

When the economy develops through population influx, the increased wealth is considered jointly created by the couple. In other words, my share increases in case of divorce. Moreover, creating so many allies now will give me an advantage in any future public opinion battles.

‘Volunteering is so wonderful.’

“I pray every day for all of you to recover quickly.”

I looked around at the people while drawing back the curtain I had just installed. Sunlight poured behind me like a halo.

* * *

“Have you heard that Lady Anette has encouraged the ladies’ association to volunteer?”

Darius was watching Anette work. Daniel asked him as he stood there.

“I heard the noble ladies of the association were shocked, asking if we were telling them to clean up filth.”

With her small frame, Anette tirelessly cared for patients, changed sheets, and ventilated the room without a moment’s rest.

〈I heard Inkheart punished its own slave market and confiscated all assets? That’s a very clever method. After letting it grow for ten years, you got countless slaves for free!〉

There was much gossip from other territories about Inkheart confiscating the territory’s slave market due to inhumane treatment and negligent management.

They said Inkheart confiscated the slave market because they coveted the slave traders’ money.

But that was wrong.

Inkheart not only freed healthy slaves who could immediately contribute, but also granted freedom to those on the brink of death.

Was it out of pity for those about to die, hoping they could escape their slave status even in their final moments by burning their documents? That wasn’t it either.

Anette devoted herself to nursing the rescued slaves, putting aside other duties.

〈The rescue is just the beginning. I have no intention of turning my back on people who are this sick.〉

Meeting with the ladies’ association to discuss castle affairs seemed trivial to Anette in comparison.

“Your Highness. If you’re just going to keep watching, why not go and speak to her?”

Not everyone could devote themselves to volunteering. Darius himself had mountains of work to do. Nevertheless, he couldn’t take his eyes off Anette, who moved around tirelessly with a bright smile.

“Would I have been able to cut ties with the slave traders if Anette hadn’t been by my side?”

“Pardon?”

Darius turned his back.

‘My justice could be completed because you were here.’

It was a realization that warmed a corner of his heart.

* * *

“Hee, heek.”

Rigolus stepped backward. The alley was a dead end. There was nowhere else to run.

“Please! P-please!”

Rigolus clung to someone on his knees. After the slave market collapsed during the harvest festival, he had fled immediately.

He hadn’t earned money or brought rare slaves.

It was natural for those above to be angry at this result.

“This is troublesome. I always tell Lady Lilith not to kill people recklessly.”

A robed figure approached Rigolus.

“You should have brought a mermaid at least.”

“I was going to offer a mermaid. It was specially prepared. I repeatedly instructed them to manage it well, but those stupid underlings…!”

Squelch.

‘Huh? What?’

Rigolus looked at the wrist that had pierced his heart. The flowing red blood wasn’t scattering in all directions but was being absorbed into the wrist.

“It’s fortunate that Lady Lilith doesn’t know about this situation. If she knew, she would have been greatly angered.”

The figure muttered.

“The losses are severe. Can we find new sacrifices within the time limit? If Lady Lilith finds out about this, she might offer me as a sacrifice instead. Oh, what should I do now?”

People dying in back alleys was common. The fact that the dead person was Rigolus, the infamous slave trader from Inkheart, was somewhat unusual.

Unfortunately, his appearance—tattered and covered in soot from days of running away—prevented anyone from recognizing that the deceased was that wealthy slave trader Rigolus.

It was a miserable end befitting someone who had joined hands with demons.

* * *

With the harvest festival over, winter arrived. The hospital volunteer work she had been diligently doing was gradually coming to an end.

〈We will fulfill our responsibility with donations. This is money collected with one heart from everyone. Wouldn’t this help be better than a noble lady doing work that doesn’t suit her?〉

She had been avoiding the ladies’ association members who were uncomfortable with volunteer work, but recently the association had donated a large sum to the hospital, putting pressure on her. They wanted her to attend the ladies’ association now.

She enjoyed caring for patients because Sylphid would be moved and praise her for caring about people, without nagging her to train.

‘Enhancing my reputation, avoiding unwanted meetings, exemption from nagging! Now I have to give up this good deed that kills three birds with one stone.’

Sob. But now even Sylphid seemed to be noticing that she was volunteering to avoid training.

Today, she could no longer postpone her duties as the lord’s wife, so she walked around the castle with her arm linked with Darius’s.

Everyone saw it, right? The relationship between the lord and his wife is still this good.

“How fascinating. They’re dressing the trees with straw.”

“Winter is approaching, so they’re dressing them to withstand the cold.”

“Do trees wear clothes too?”

Darius laughed as if amused.

“Wearing clothes, you say. I suppose you could put it that way. By the way, when spring comes, they remove the straw and burn it.”

“Why?”

“Cold is fair to everyone. To trees and to insects. When trees are dressed in straw like that, insects hide in the straw all winter to escape the cold. So when spring comes, they burn the straw for pest control as well.”

“I see.”

Looking around the castle, everyone was diligently preparing for winter. Installing storm windows to prevent glass from breaking in the cold wave, for instance.

She realized it had been less than a year since she settled in Inkheart.

She had arrived as the previous winter was fading, and the coming winter would be her first since making Inkheart her home.

“The northern winter is harsh, so we need to prepare thoroughly.”

In the castle’s training ground, knights were practicing. She greeted the knights she knew with her eyes.

“In the northern winter, monsters come down from the mountains.”

Flinch, her steps halted at those words.

“No one knows where the monsters come from, where they nest, or how they live. But one thing has always been clear. In winter, even monsters come down to villages because there’s nothing to eat.”

Darius looked at his knights.

“So to prevent damage, every winter Inkheart takes the initiative to climb up the foothills and hunt monsters.”

Last winter, he was at the Pochet Marquis family in the south to marry her. For whatever reason, having missed one year of reducing the monster population, this year the monsters would be more rampant.

“Are you going too?”

“Yes. The lord leads the way.”

She knew he would be safe. He was the male protagonist, always victorious and strong.

“I’ll only go to the entrance of the mountains.”

He stroked her hand that was tightly gripping his arm, as if to reassure her.

“It’s always been that way. The northern mountains are the monsters’ territory. If you go too deep, anyone would get lost in the snowstorms there.”

I know, but still.

“It’s not that dangerous, and above all, it’s something that happens every year. I’ve never been hurt.”

She had already turned her head away.

“……You’re going to face monsters directly.”

Lies. No matter how strong he is, he must get wounded sometimes. When he says he’s never been hurt, it sounds like a lie.

“I’m going with the knights.”

“No matter how strong the knights are with you, it’s useless if you rush out alone again.”

She pointed out the time when Darius had impulsively taken the lead in front of a demonized wild boar.

“That happened a year ago. You still remember that?”

“It’s only been a year.”

You try watching a novel’s male protagonist’s life hanging in the balance right before your eyes. It appears in my dreams even after a year.

“Anette, this is something I must do. I believe in myself and my knights.”

Darius didn’t bend his will.

“I exist to protect our people. A lord who doesn’t fulfill this duty cannot be called a lord.”

He let go of my hand.

“I’ll return safely.”

She nodded glumly.

‘Anyway, just try coming back with even a scratch. I’ll tie you to the lord’s bed until the day Evangeline comes to the north.’