KFBRV Ch 49

The Count’s private bedroom was filled with the sound of ragged breathing until one of the two figures entangled in the sheets rose. It was Mrs. Becker, her expression weary.

[Ulrich] "After all those exhausting negotiations with Zion, all I managed to get out of him was Karl! Dammit!"

[Ulrich] "There isn’t a single person as repulsive and vicious as Marquis Kleist."

He had spent the entirety of their secret tryst complaining about the Marquis. Only after he finally fell into a deep, heavy slumber did his mouth shut.

My situation is so wretched. To have a relationship that must be hidden away like this.

She felt a deep sense of sorrow. While the Count adored her, doted on her, and spent money on her without a second thought, love with a married man was inherently bitter—especially when that man possessed a cold, ruthless side. She felt an instinctive sense of peril, a nagging fear that she could be discarded at any moment.

Her intuition told her that if she became a nuisance, she would be the first to go. This was precisely why she had not yet told him that Odette had discovered their affair.

I wanted to beg him to punish Odette the moment he returned.

However, he had been in an exceptionally foul mood lately. If she had brought up such a topic, he likely would have stormed out of bed and left her.

Does he even know that I love him with such a fragile heart? That I even love that cold, ruthless side of him?

As she did every time, she meticulously erased any trace of her presence before quietly closing the door and stepping into the hallway.

It was three o'clock in the morning—the hour she chose to move because it was when she was least likely to be seen. She didn't even carry a small candle for fear of being discovered.

She had to be especially cautious these days. Since she had gained control over the family’s assets, the number of people attempting to find her weaknesses and play politics against her had increased. There was the head maid, the housekeeper, Paula, and Rolf the butler—all of them people who belonged to the now-powerless Countess.

Initially, there had been an uproar that a mere lady’s maid who had "rolled into the house" held far too much authority, but the resentment had slowly subsided.

So many emergencies had erupted during the Founding Festival that budget executions were needed everywhere at once. In a situation where everyone was desperate for funds, few people cared to question the legitimacy of Mrs. Becker’s authority.

Furthermore, when the Count returned, he had tacitly approved of her control over the assets, stating they should "follow Ferdinand’s will." What else could the servants do? Still, "they"—the Madam’s people—bothered her at every turn, picking apart every little thing she did.

And now that I’ve been given the hiring authority, they’ll torment me even more. If I get caught doing anything suspicious, it will be a nightmare.

She lightened her footsteps even further. It was at that moment that a voice called out to her from the pitch-black corridor.

[Malea] "Mrs. Becker?"

[Becker] "Aah! Goodness, you startled me!"

[Malea] "Oh, I am so sorry. I just came out for a drink of water and was so happy to see you... I must have given you quite a shock."

She clutched her chest and looked at the maid holding a candleholder. In the faint glow of the flame, she recognized Malea’s face.

Thank goodness it isn't Paula.

Mrs. Becker thought, her heart finally slowing down.

Malea was a maid who had followed her lead from the start. She was even kind enough to gift her those precious peony tea leaves she had received from the Salon.

Still, she knew she couldn't let her guard down completely. Malea was, after all, the Countess’ personal maid. Who was to say when she might switch sides?

[Malea] "Where are you coming from at this hour?"

[Becker] "...I felt a bit suffocated, so I went for a short walk."

[Malea] "I see. You're heading back to the lower level where the bedrooms are, right? Shall we walk together?"

She felt a bit uneasy, but she knew it would look even more suspicious to refuse the offer when she didn't even have a light. She nodded, and they began to walk together.

[Becker] "I heard you were promoted to the Madam’s personal maid? Congratulations. You've only been here a short while; to rise that quickly is impressive."

Worried that Malea might ask more about her late-night walk, she intentionally opened the conversation with praise.

[Malea] "Oh, you are far more impressive, Mrs. Becker. You hold the management of the estate’s assets—a power usually reserved for the mistress of the house. And now you even have the hiring authority. Soon, you’ll have more power than the Madam herself."

Is she subtly judging me for having more authority than I should?

The thought flashed through her mind, but Malea continued in a sweet, gentle tone.

[Malea] "I’m genuinely happy for you. Look at how much you accomplished during the Founding Festival. Now that you’re in charge of hiring as well, I’m sure the mansion will run much more smoothly. To be honest, the Countess... she doesn't really understand the hardships of people like us, does she?"

Secretly craving this kind of validation, Mrs. Becker found herself lamenting almost instinctively.

[Becker] "What does it matter? The people who actually hold sway in this house keep badmouthing me behind my back, saying it's wrong for me to manage the money."

[Malea] "Goodness. What can they even do? Your authority was granted by the Master and the Young Master themselves. Just bear with it a little longer, Ma'am. Political games are powerless in the face of true authority. In the end, you will be the one who wins."

She blinked. Those words were incredibly comforting.

[Malea] "You know I was promoted because of my keen eye, right? After seeing the chaos of the festival, I realized that you possess far better qualities for a noble lady than the Madam does. If the Madam had been in charge, she wouldn't have accomplished even half of what you did."

[Becker] "Am I... really that capable?"

[Malea] "Of course. You’ve done better in a short time than the Madam did in twenty-five years of managing the money. I believe the Albrecht family would have been much more prestigious if you were the mistress of the house. Mark my words."

It was true that the few paintings Malea had selected from the Salon had surged in price several times over in just a few days. Her eye for value was indisputable. Since such a person was speaking with such conviction, Mrs. Becker couldn't help but feel her shoulders straighten with pride.

[Malea] "Besides, you naturally carry yourself like a noblewoman. You are highly cultured and well-educated. It would have been much better for me to work for you if you were the lady of the house."

Come to think of it.... Sasha is only called "Madam" because she married the Count. My original background is actually much better than hers. I am the daughter of a lawyer, while she is just the daughter of a moneylender.

Typically, a lady’s maid who follows a bride into a marriage has been with her since her youth. However, Mrs. Becker had been hired in a hurry just before Sasha’s wedding. There was no deep affection or loyalty between them. Her father, unable to handle high interest rates, had simply handed her over to the moneylender as payment for his debt.

[Malea] "Oh, but this is just between us, right? What I mean is... you are in no way inferior to the Madam. You are doing a wonderful job, so please, have more confidence."

With her vanity fully stoked by Malea’s whispers, Mrs. Becker found herself trapped in strange thoughts even after she returned to her room.

What if... just what if... I became the Countess?

She had never once imagined actually marrying the Count. Since they had Ferdinand as an heir, it was certain he would not seek a divorce. Even if he did, it seemed unlikely he would marry her, a woman who had become a widow in her youth.

I’ve thought that if I became pregnant with his child, he might be less harsh with me... but for me to be the lady of the house?

But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. If a moneylender’s daughter could hold the title, why couldn't she? And having actually wielded the power, she found that the role of the mistress wasn't as difficult as she had imagined.

Leaning against the door in deep thought, her eyes fell upon the white tea set on her desk. It was a gift from Malea. Inside was the high-grade tea caddy engraved with the vivid crest of the Imperial Family.

She could easily imagine herself as a noblewoman, invited into the inner chambers of the Empress’ Salon. She saw herself acting with far more grace and culture than Sasha ever could.

Exactly. Sasha became the Countess simply because the Count chose her. Nothing more, nothing less.

Mrs. Becker did not know that divorce among nobles was fundamentally different from that of commoners. She didn't realize that nobles rarely married or divorced for the sake of love.

She opened the tea caddy and took out the leaves. She brewed a cup and took a sip.

She was completely unaware that peony tea was known to aid pregnancy. She also didn't know that the peony tea made by the Imperial Family used such premium ingredients and was prepared so meticulously by pharmacists that its potency was remarkably high.

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Why is this line so long?

Paula, who had been standing for four hours, tapped her aching legs. She was filled with irritation at the fact that there were still six people waiting ahead of her.

Look at the state I’m in, all because of that one wretched maid.

If only Mrs. Becker had possessed the sense to return the asset management rights on her own, this disaster would never have happened.

Losing the money was one thing, but who could have guessed she would receive the hiring authority as if it were her own birthright? That woman was like a greedy parasite, despite being sold into service for a debt.

And that man, the Count—he just lets it happen?

If he had any common sense, even if he didn't return the rights to her mother, he should have given them to the butler or the housekeeper. It was utterly nonsensical for a lady's maid to hold the power to manage a mansion.

But he had simply crushed the Madam’s status by saying, "Do as Ferdinand wishes."

Her mother, stripped of the most essential rights of a mistress, spent every day in her room hurling curses at Ferdinand, calling him "a thankless wretch just like his father."

It was because of that suffocating situation that Paula had come all this way to stand in line. Soon, the customer at the front left, and the six people ahead of her were all rejected, leaving with hollow expressions.

I've been waiting long enough to see that she only reads for about one out of every four people. How does she even stay in business?

It seemed the rumors were true: the fortune teller only accepted clients whose futures were clearly visible to her upon sight.

[Attendant] "Next person, please enter."

She swallowed hard. It was finally her turn.

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