I Just Needed Someone to Hate - Episode 3.2

The car soon stopped on the main street. Vivianne wordlessly looked up at the man leaving the car with worried eyes, but was relieved when he soon walked out of the fancy building and opened the driver’s side door again.

What was placed on Vivianne’s lap was a shopping bag from the most expensive store on this street. It was something that defied all of Vivianne’s expectations, who had assumed the worst during that short time.

Vivianne paused, seemingly surprised by the coldness of the box inside the shopping bag, then stroked the ribbon on the corner with her hand. Edmund waited for Vivianne to open it.

The scarf, having found its owner, was soon wrapped around Vivianne’s neck. When Vivianne turned her head to open her mouth to Edmund, she felt his scent much closer.

Rough hands were pulling the scarf up. Barely covering her nose, it hid her face even without a hat. Vivianne put on the shawl that remained in the box and leaned back in the passenger seat.

“You said I didn’t have to return it, did you change your mind in the meantime?”

She gestured at the jacket covering her lap and looked at Edmund. She was newly aware of the physique of the man sitting next to her, but didn’t bother to mention it.

“If you want that as a birthday present too, as you wish, Lady.”

He started the car at the same time as he said those words.

Birthday present. She seemed to have heard that word clearly.

“Um, thank…”

“Do you always try to sit in the back seat when you ride in other people’s cars?”

Vivianne’s gratitude was soon cut off by Edmund’s emotionless words. A faint blush rose on her prim face, which had been mixed with a small favor.

The embarrassment, not hidden by the scarf, stained Vivianne’s undereyes and slightly exposed earlobes.

“Why do you ask?”

“I thought you were someone who wasn’t used to coming out of the mansion.”

It was true. Feeling like she had been hit right on the mark, Vivianne turned her head to the side.

“I thought you wouldn’t have lasted three days on your own.”

“……”

She realized how pathetic she had been, trembling, before he gave her these ‘gifts’.

Vivianne examined the man who always spoke so unkindly. Even if you were really the Prime Minister’s son, it wouldn’t be much different. Vivianne had an older brother, so she knew what kind of people the young masters of the Imperial boarding school were.

Except for the part about not being able to last three days, they were not so different from her. Arrogant, pretentious, and somehow like young masters.

If he were real, he would be no different from her in any way.

“Your Excellency the Count speaks as if I’m not your type at all.”

She deliberately put strength into the words ‘Your Excellency the Count’.

“You’re laughing at me as if you’re a clean person who has never set foot in the hypocritical high society.”

“I don’t not know what it’s like.”

The imposter – presumed – brazenly lied. He knows. Okay, let’s say he does. That guy is blue-blooded, whether it’s money, status, or lineage. But now he wants to pretend that he alone is different.

“…I just thought it was boring.”

Vivianne smiled slightly at the man’s words that followed. A fake, yet he’s looking down on all the upper class, pretending to be the only noble one.

Looking in a different direction from the man who was turning the steering wheel, she met her own eyes reflected in the car window.

Her cheeks throbbed.

“Boring, huh.”

Vivianne mulled over the man’s audacious assessment.

“We have something in common.”

A beautiful dress, a shawl, a scarf that would be more expensive than everything she was wearing combined, and this tingling pain…

Surrounded by birthday presents, the clock tower bells announcing three in the morning suddenly felt new to her.

The man didn’t open his mouth until they arrived at their destination, but was it a small change created by a trivial commonality? Vivianne didn’t feel uncomfortable with the silence.

Soon, the faint light from the gas lamps changed to the cold light of incandescent bulbs. The process of even that being swallowed by the cold darkness was like a small panorama condensing sunrise and sunset.

From one end of the system to the other, they had crossed the wealth contour line shaped by light.

When Vivianne got out of the car, the air surrounding her had completely changed. After coughing a couple of times from the factory smoke, she looked at the building right in front of her.

“I didn’t know it would be such a big building. Well… it’s not fancy, but it’s modern and plain, and there are a lot of windows.”

Edmund glanced at Vivianne, who was facing the huge rectangular building. It was obvious that she was trying to pretend to be surprised for him. So in a way, this was that noble lady’s kindness.

The building, buried in the smoke from the factory area not far from the majestic darkness, was indeed large, as Vivianne said.

The brown brick walls had traces of age here and there, and even that looked gray without streetlights.

Monotonously, the windows were rectangular, and even that was placed at the same interval as if measured with a ruler. There was an arched decoration above the windows, but it didn’t make the mansion look any more luxurious.

“But why do you need so many mailboxes for one person to live in?”

Vivianne asked, looking at him with curious eyes, and Edmund replied.

“You have good observation skills. The place where you will be staying is exactly over there.”

His finger pointed to one of the windows on the second floor of the building. Vivianne had a shocked face. ‘Not a building, but a single unit?’ Her expression was readable, which was an interesting part for Edmund.

“If you want to go back to the mansion now, I’ll be happy to contact the Metropolitan Police Agency.”

If he wanted, he could take her to his real mansion and treat her like an Imperial princess.

He could go into that building and play the ‘fake’ Prime Minister’s son, or he could collapse the building overnight. Then he could walk out of here as if nothing had happened.

But now he wanted to know. Why is it that what is not visible to other people in society is only read by that woman?

What is Vivianne Mergoville seeing in him?

“You’re a fake, aren’t you?”

Vivianne came into his view.

“If it’s not a place where the Lady can live, I understand.”

Funny. Do you think I’d be scared of something like this?

Vivianne not only had such eyes, but also straightened her shawl and walked forward. Edmund stared blankly at her back.

The way she waited for people with her chin raised in the back seat of the saloon, as if it were natural to ride in the upper seat of the saloon. And yet, the way her eyes widened at the unexpected gift.

The moment when emotions briefly settled on her prim face.

Someday it will be trampled and destroyed by time. Even if he didn’t intervene, that was the case according to the report he received on the financial situation of that woman’s family.

When that happens, what kind of eyes will he look at her with?

A low-level member of the organization, or a toy of his subordinates. He didn’t care about the safety of the woman he thought was a target for elimination.

Edmund’s gaze turned once again to the window he had pointed to. This time, he was checking to see if there were any bloodstains left on the glass.

‘Fake.’

The house of the fake that that woman is talking about. Considering Vivianne’s eyes when she first saw that building, her father’s decision becomes quite ridiculous.

What did he think he could get with that kind of stand-in?

The house of the Prime Minister’s son stand-in – presumed – was on the second floor of that building. Unlike the first impression, the interior of the building was a clean, achromatic space. It was unexpected for Vivianne, who had been thinking of ugly patterned wallpaper.

The faint light coming in from the window covered a couple of armchairs. They were tub-shaped with rounded ends. The black and white contrast of the various photos on the wall was clear even in the dim darkness.

It had a sense of life, rather than being a hastily constructed space to lure her here. A typewriter placed diagonally on the desk, or a gramophone on the corner side table. On top of the console on the wall were a radio, a telephone, and some documents.

When she turned her head, she could see about three doors. It was still only a space the size of a dressing room in Vivianne’s existing mansion, but it wasn’t bad.

Her feet, which had been wearing high heels, throbbed. As she was looking for a place to sit, she felt the movement of the man closing the door and following her in. Even the moment he let go of the doorknob, the surroundings were quiet, but it seemed like he wouldn’t deviate from her expectations.

Before Vivianne could turn her head in that direction, she felt a presence near her ear. Edmund was the one who opened his mouth first in the silence.

“I didn’t know that any man would be okay as long as I could give a house to a noble lady.”

He tilted his head further.

“Turning your back like this without any guard.”

The words that followed were whispered softly. House. Vivianne scanned the scenery in front of her again.

“Now you’re saying it’s a house.”

“……”

“At first, you said it was a mansion.”

He had said it as if it were natural and obvious for someone to live in such a place. Of course, if he were the Prime Minister’s son stand-in, what couldn’t he say to entice someone?

But is this man a skilled liar who can deceive a house as a mansion, or…

“It’s amazing that it seems like a place where people used to live, rather than buying this place separately to lure me in.”

Was that word obvious because he owned another mansion? If this was a hastily created place, there was a high probability that it was a trap.

While the man was silent, Vivianne turned around and met his eyes. As expected, his body was leaning towards her. The word defenseless was really right.

Her cold hands were sweaty and slippery. Even though it was such cold weather. No matter how much she self-hypnotized herself that he was a low-class man, that ‘symptom’ recurred when he was this close. It was so annoying.

Vivianne inwardly pretended to be nonchalant and turned her head and walked forward.

“I came because I thought our interests matched, not to die. And on top of that.”

“……”

“The son of the Prime Minister of the Empire is not ‘just anyone’.”

…Isn’t that the fact that you know best? As always, the words that stimulated the other person could not flow out of her mouth. She had to be careful.

“I’ll turn on the radio. It’s too quiet.”

“Are you afraid of quiet places?”

Vivianne’s fingers, which had been tuning the frequency, stopped at the voice that was coming from behind her again. She hadn’t shown it, but it felt like it had been revealed.

She could clearly feel the presence of the man standing behind her. His tall height, broad shoulders or threatening arms were drawn in her imagination.

The stimulation given by sight is as intense as a flash of light. Her cold fingers slowly turned the knob of the rectangular wooden box.

“Yes, I am.”

Vivianne answered as nonchalantly as possible. Just in time, Daatro Broadcast News was playing.

Fortunately, it wasn’t an article announcing Vivianne’s disappearance. The Prime Minister did this, the Cabinet decided that… Vivianne listened to the voice of the anchor, who was reporting on unfamiliar foreign affairs, and sat in the armchair. Perhaps conscious of the air between the two, the man seemed to have gone somewhere else and brought out warm tea on the table.

Chamomile.

It was when Vivianne was opening the lid of the teapot.

“We will bring you the next news. Ludwig Rex…”

Vivianne’s shoulders twitched.

“He has been identified as a strong suspect in the assault case of ‘Janet Bell Watkins’, a famous cabaret singer and the second son of Chairman Rex. Watkins, who woke up in the hospital today, denied all allegations about her relationship with Ludwig Rex…”

That damned name.

“Mr. Ludwig Rex.”

The forgotten memory came to mind with an intense light that seemed to flash her vision.

“Mr. Ludwig Rex! What do you think about Don Becallone, who is presumed to be the boss of Daatro’s underworld, being sentenced to only three years in prison?”

“Social critics say that the Imperial aristocratic forces are involved in making Daatro’s underworld, which was the most powerful threat to the Empire six years ago, what it is today. Do you agree?”

The radio was turned off around the time Watkins’ voice came out. Vivianne’s eyes returned at the same time.

Edmund sat across from her. He leaned towards the table and soon Vivianne’s teacup was filled with chamomile tea.

“Who do you think is the aristocratic strategist who made Daatro’s underworld so prosperous in six years?”

“Do you disagree with people calling the Rex family the dogs of the underworld? Mr. Ludwig Rex!”

The bursting voices of the reporters in her memory were slowly washed away by the scent of the tea.

There is an unsolved problem in the Daatro Empire to this day. For example, who was the aristocratic strategist who dramatically grew those called the underworld forces?

Daatro was a ‘crime-free land’ that was unshaken even by the mafia franchise business of various foreign gangs. The exclusive nature of the Imperial upper class was the reason. If unnecessary movements were about to occur, the military would directly step in to clean up the streets.

However, six years ago, a tectonic shift began to occur in this peaceful order.

The surveillance network, which had been loosened by a continental war, was a signal flare. At the same time as the growth of forces based on the vigilante organizations of immigrants from various nationalities, a system began to be created.

The vested interests could not stick to the existing methods because of the public opinion tired of gunshots. The Imperial aristocrats laughed, saying that they were just back alley people who killed people, ran water businesses, and extorted small amounts of money from local betting shops, but the situation changed.

The beginning was the law.

The strict tax laws enacted by the Cabinet became a means to fatten their bellies. Whether it was guns, cigarettes, or luxury goods, the foreigners abused it to do business with the starving Imperial people.

The boss of the underworld used the foreigners of each country under his command like chess pieces to make the next move. Ridiculously cheap building materials and food, and illegally imported coal gas, robbed the Imperial people’s pockets and gnawed at the Imperial economy.

It was at a time when domestic goods were relatively expensive due to the Imperial government’s economic policies. Domestic goods rotted in warehouses without even being exported, and solid companies faltered, and the underworld supported and manipulated the labor unions as if they had been waiting.

When the complacent vested interests realized that they were being played in the game of the underworld forces they had ignored and became alert, the Empire was already a place of chaos.

The Imperial people shot the police with unregistered guns, and the slums were filled with the stench of blood.

The foreigners who eroded the Empire’s economy filled the pockets of the police in each parish with that money. As the streets where even public order had collapsed were ironically protected by foreigners, they collected taxes under the pretext of protecting them.

Their power gradually became solid and slowly eroded the Empire. It was a natural step for the Imperial vested interests who were unknowingly cooperating with them to increase. The media noisily talked about the cause of those beasts putting their heads together and growing in size.

‘What if an aristocrat who knows the Empire’s laws, systems, and bureaucratic cartels well has intervened?’

The first suspicion raised, and the most dominant opinion to date, is that Ludwig Rex, who has a foreign mother, is the main axis.

The underworld forces of Daatro were an organization with various bloodlines mixed in, but to the Imperial people, foreigners were just foreigners. There was no reason why Ludwig Rex should not be on the suspect list.

A foreign mother. Although he was not of aristocratic blood, he soon became a hot topic as the son of a Senate Chairman.

“I guess you’re wondering if the rumors are true?”

Although there was no answer, Vivianne continued, conscious of Edmund’s gaze.

“Whether my fiancé is an aristocratic strategist who cooperated with the underworld.”

Not of aristocratic blood, Vivianne repeated inwardly.

“I think I would have been curious even if I wasn’t my father’s son.”

It was an ambiguous answer. Words that neither revealed his purpose nor revealed his background. It didn’t matter. Vivianne retorted, even showing the leisure of filling her teacup.

“Is that so? Then you can see it for yourself if you have the guts.”

“Did you say directly?”

“Yes.”

Is it because she finally realized her situation? The memory of four days ago was as vivid as if it were yesterday, and the awareness of how far she was away from that familiar world slowly erased Vivianne’s expression.

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