Apparently, I’m a Poisonous Woman Who Sells One-Night Dreams, but I Ended Up Awakening a Hero’s Devoted Love - Chapter 1.33

Inside the carriage was Bishop Mantel.

He was bound with his hands behind his back, leaning against the far end, and gagged.

The wagon bed had a wooden frame with a canopy draped over it. It was high enough to move around in a crouched position, but the inside couldn’t be seen from outside.

As soon as the bearded man climbed into the wagon, it began to move.

“Move to the back.”

Crouching down and sitting a little away from Bishop Mantel, the man pressed a knife against Mariadoll’s neck. The inside of the canopy was dim. Every time the lantern in the center of the wooden frame swayed, the shadows cast on the canopy moved as well.

Under the faint light, Mariadoll gulped at the coldness of the dull gleaming knife.

If the shaking grew stronger and his hand slipped even slightly, it would plunge right into her.

“Mantel, if you make a loud noise, I’ll kill this woman. You too, miss. If you want Mantel to live, stay quiet.”

While Bishop Mantel nodded in response, Mariadoll, with the knife still pressed against her, answered with a blink. The man grinned crookedly, then removed both their gags and untied the ropes binding their arms. Instead, he clamped iron shackles on their feet.

“Bread. It’s a bit moldy, but you can still eat it. Pretty considerate, huh?”

He tossed the bread over, and it rolled clatteringly across the wagon floor.

When she picked it up, it was, as expected, hard as a rock.

(He wouldn’t bother with something tedious like poisoning it. I need to keep my strength up.)

She broke off a piece with a crack that sounded like it might snap, and bit into it, gnawing.

If she softened it in her mouth, it would absorb her moisture.

“Could I have some water, please?”

“Sure thing, miss.”

He tossed a cloth canteen over as well. Taking the opportunity, he also threw two worn-out blankets their way.

“The journey will take a little over a day. You’ll sleep here. Pretty considerate, huh?”

He laughed, “Ha ha,” then pulled a bottle of wine from a wooden crate loaded in the wagon, stabbed the knife into the cork, and opened it.

The same gesture she’d seen from Jerf when they first met only intensified her disgust for the bearded man.

(Even though it’s a rough way to open it, Lord Jerf was refined. I wonder if the Legacies are safe.)

There was still time before her meeting with Jerf.

But if Clemence had untied the ropes and Legacy had galloped to the knights, Jerf might have heard about it by now.

“May I ask why you’re doing this?”

When Mariadoll managed to swallow the bread and asked, the man wiped the wine dripping from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and directed a mocking smile toward Bishop Mantel.

“Mantel, the miss wants to know. Tell her. What you did, what you tried to make this woman do. And while you’re at it, the sins you committed in the past while pretending to be a holy man.”

He chuckled creepily, then poured more wine down his throat.

It seemed he wanted Bishop Mantel to explain, no matter what.

“Bishop Mantel, if you know something, please tell me. It’s related to that painting, isn’t it?”

“…Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you, who has nothing to do with this, into it. I’ll tell you everything.”

Under the swaying lantern, Bishop Mantel began to speak, his words soft and halting.

※※

My son was sickly. Since childhood, he frequently ran fevers and teetered on the brink of death more than once or twice.

I thought he might grow a little stronger as he got older, but as he grew, the number of times he was bedridden increased.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to have a high fever for two weeks straight, and his body was so weak that even a little movement left him short of breath.

The doctor even told us to prepare ourselves because he wouldn’t live long, and my wife and I sank into the depths of despair.

But no matter what the doctor said, as parents, we couldn’t just give up.

Whenever we heard of a good doctor, we had him examined without regard for cost. Because of that, the barony’s finances were in dire straits.

Furthermore, the output from the mine, our only source of income, was rapidly decreasing.

I heard the news that the mine would be closed in a few months in Duke Stanley’s office.

Duke Stanley was drunk again that day. No, he was sober less often than not.

Rumors said that the butler and his son Jerf handled most of the actual work, but Duke Stanley held the seal.

It always made me angry.

Why did this drunkard have such a splendid son, while my own son, who worked so earnestly, had to suffer? It was envy.

And then, the mine closure on top of that.

My son’s treatment required money. I bowed my head and begged for some other work, at least. Then, Duke Stanley stood up and, on unsteady feet, headed toward the bookshelf.

What was he planning to do? Still, he was unusually drunk today. Maybe I should come back another time? As I thought this and watched Duke Stanley’s back, he threw several books onto the floor and reached into the back of the shelf.

He was so drunk it was pointless. Just as I was about to say I’d come back later, there was a clank, a metallic sound.

What was that? As I looked around the room, Duke Stanley slid the shelf sideways.

A hidden room. I’d heard rumors that high-ranking nobles had them, but it was true. Along with something like admiration, I was stunned. He really shouldn’t be opening this in front of me.

There’s a limit to how drunk one should be. This defeats the purpose of a hidden room. As I stood there dumbfounded, Duke Stanley staggered into the room on unsteady feet.

“Where did I put it?” “Not this one,” he rustled around searching the hidden room, then came back holding a single sheet of paper.

A vulgar smile was plastered on his face, and a bad premonition sent a chill down my spine.

“I’ve got just the thing for you. I hear a merchant ship will soon depart for a foreign land. If you go, you won’t be able to return for two years, but how about it? Want to give it a try? I’ll pay you when you return safely to this country, so come collect it then. Ha ha ha, how about it? Perfect for you, right?”

Laughing uproariously, he flippantly tossed the paper with the merchant ship’s destination onto the floor.

Duke Stanley’s hands, as I saw them, trembled slightly, perhaps from the alcohol.

Being a sailor was no job for a baron. Moreover, payment after the fact, two years later—I’d never heard of such terrible conditions.

During that time, I wouldn’t be able to see my son.

I couldn’t provide his treatment.

He probably chose this job deliberately to mock me. My mind went blank with rage. My whole body trembled, and my back teeth grated audibly.

Should I hit him? As I clenched my fist and raised my eyes from the document on the floor, I saw it inside the hidden room.

The Blood Ruby, the treasure of the Stanley ducal house, was carelessly placed on a shelf.

The Blood Ruby ring had been worn by the Duchess of Stanley for generations.

Had it been left there ever since her death?

Duke Stanley, completely unaware that I’d noticed the Blood Ruby ring, staggered with a drunken gait back to the bookshelf, slid it shut again, and clicked the lock.

It completely defeated the purpose of a hidden door. And though I hadn’t noticed the first time, there were two locking sounds. Probably there were two keys.

Duke Stanley, who didn’t seem to know what he was doing, was completely intoxicated.

With glazed, wandering eyes, he hung one key around his neck and placed the other on the desk.

Then, he tried to pour more wine into his glass.

“…I’ll discuss the job with my wife. Let me pour you a drink in thanks.”

When I stood up unsteadily, the plan was already formed in my mind.

I poured the amber liquid generously into the glass.

When Duke Stanley drank it delightedly, I filled the glass with wine again.

After making him drink plenty, Duke Stanley finally slumped over the desk and fell asleep.

Since he was already quite drunk, it didn’t take long.

Looking at the man with his flushed face and sloppily closed eyes, hatred welled up from the depths of my stomach.

Taking a deep breath to suppress it, I picked up the key left on the desk, put it in my pocket, and left the office.

Duke Stanley is nearly an alcoholic.