Chapter 203

 

Amaia opened the door first and stepped outside, extending her hand as if escorting Iona.

 

Iona, carefully supported by Amaia, descended from the carriage with caution.

 

It seemed their counterpart had already arrived, as the ground bore marks of wheels scraping the dirt.

 

Following the footprints left by their guest, Iona and Amaia slowly entered the warehouse.

 

The interior was so small that its layout could be grasped with a single turn in place.

 

The visitor sat at a crude wooden table placed at the back, waiting for them. Both figures wore black hats pulled low, making their identities difficult to discern at a glance.

 

Iona silently bowed toward them and took a seat opposite.

 

As she adjusted her gaze to meet theirs, the shadows partially obscuring their lower faces lifted, making their jawlines clearer.

 

From the pronounced Adam’s apples and their physiques, it was evident that both visitors were men.

 

However, the one seated directly across from Iona was notably taller than his companion, despite the smaller man not being particularly short.

 

The taller one appeared older, yet the smaller man seemed to defer to him, frequently stealing cautious glances his way.

 

As Iona silently speculated about their relationship, the younger man abruptly spoke.

 

“Is the veiled one the viscountess?”

 

The only reason Iona managed to suppress a startled gasp was her unwavering composure, honed through years of sword training.

 

Her eyes, hidden beneath the veil, widened in shock.

 

‘Richard?’

 

The voice she had just heard undeniably belonged to Richard, a voice that had kept her on edge for over a decade. There was no mistaking it.

 

“Yes, that is correct.”

 

Amaia swiftly responded on behalf of the surprised Iona, as they had prearranged.

 

If not for their prior agreement that Amaia would handle the conversation, Iona’s identity might have been exposed the moment she encountered Richard.

 

Fortunately, Richard seemed unaware that the woman before him was Iona.

 

‘My face and figure are both concealed. As long as I keep quiet, he won’t find out.’

 

Regaining her composure, Iona stared intently at Richard’s veiled face.

 

It was a visage she had grown tired of seeing over the years.

 

Yet, she hadn’t immediately recognized him because he looked so gaunt compared to before.

 

His sharply defined jawline now carried an almost neurotic air.

 

Though Richard had always had a difficult temperament, he wasn’t the type to let his irritability show so plainly on his face.

 

‘Surely, this isn’t because of me. Could something have happened at the capital?’

 

Why was someone who should be in the royal palace here on the Empress’ orders?

 

Having been away from Richard for so long, Iona could not grasp the situation.

 

As she silently reviewed the reports she’d received about the royal family’s activities, she felt Richard’s gaze shift toward her.

 

No, not her—but the item she was wearing.

 

“You’re wearing something unpleasant.”

 

His penetrating gaze roved over Iona’s figure, seemingly reminded of someone familiar by her black veil.

 

Perhaps it displeased him that a mere viscountess resembled his mother in appearance.

 

His tone was laden with unmistakable irritation.

 

Iona lowered her gaze to the floor, silently willing him to lose interest in her. It was a futile hope.

 

“Can’t you speak?”

 

Richard asked, fixing her with an unwavering stare.

 

Unable to bear it any longer, Amaia stepped in to explain the baroness’s condition.

 

“…The viscountess cannot speak easily due to an injury. You may address me instead.”

 

“She was attacked by the viscount’s son, who… cut her face completely…”

 

Richard’s companion appeared sympathetic to the viscountess’ plight, despite the rude gesture of waving a hand before her face.

 

Though offensive, the explanation ultimately worked to Iona’s advantage.

 

She bowed her head low, embodying the despair of someone facing a harsh reality.

 

A dry sigh fell over her bowed figure.

 

“Ah…”

 

Richard didn’t seem particularly moved by the viscountess’ misfortune.

 

After all, had he been the kind of man to care about the suffering of strangers, Iona wouldn’t have left him in the first place.

 

Maintaining a detached tone, Richard resumed his questioning.

 

“She can’t speak at all?”

 

“It depends on how she recovers.”

 

“What about her face? How bad is it?”

 

“…It’s not just a minor scratch. She’ll likely never be able to appear in public again.”

 

“Would it be rude to ask to see under the veil?”

 

Amaia, who had been dutifully answering, turned toward Iona in surprise.

 

Her reaction, which could be interpreted as seeking the viscountess’ permission, did not prompt Iona to intervene.

 

Instead, Iona began to tremble like a frail woman, as though overcome with fear.

 

Realizing the need to act, Amaia eventually refused the request.

 

“It wouldn’t be a pleasant sight. Naturally, it’s not something she wishes to show.”

 

Thankfully, Richard didn’t press the matter further.

 

He merely smirked in satisfaction and remarked, “That’s convenient—now she’s in no condition to run.”

 

“Shall we move on to business?”

 

Richard’s companion hastily intervened, attempting to ease the tense atmosphere.

 

It seemed he was the one originally tasked with corresponding with Amaia.

 

After briefly offering condolences for the viscountess’ family tragedy, he transitioned seamlessly into the main topic.

 

“As you may have heard through the maid, your late husband handled a very sensitive task. We reached out because we hope you, as the future owner of this estate, will inherit that responsibility.”

 

Was it because they believed she had just gone through a significant ordeal?

 

Their approach leaned more toward emotional persuasion than coercion or threats.

 

Regardless of their method, Iona would have tailored her response to suit their expectations.

 

After briefly exchanging glances with Iona, Amaia spoke up, as if she had been waiting for the moment.

 

“The viscountess has already made up her mind. Since she was unable to have children with Viscount Ida, there’s a chance her retainers may oppose her succession to the title. She’s agreed to cooperate as long as that issue is resolved.”

 

“That makes things simpler, then.”

 

The man responded with a genial smile, though his follow-up carried an edge.

 

“Well, considering you’ve done similar work before, you must be quite used to it.”

 

He was pointing out the fact that Carmen had infiltrated Viscount Ida’s household as a spy for Count Setabara.

 

Given that Amaia had been placed under Carmen’s care via Count Setabara, it wasn’t surprising that the man was aware of her past.

 

It seemed he believed winning over the viscountess would not be particularly challenging, hence his relaxed demeanor.

 

“Our conditions are simple. When our shipments pass through Ida’s territory en route to Bardem, we’d like you to turn a blind eye to the approval process. You can rely on the same personnel who worked with your late husband, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. We’ll arrange their selection and handover for you. And…”

 

The man continued, but his words were abruptly cut off when Richard suddenly stood up.

 

Despite all eyes on him, he crossed the room toward the window as if oblivious to their stares.

 

Richard pushed aside the wooden window slightly and peered through the narrow opening for a brief moment.

 

Naturally, he didn’t feel the need to explain his actions to anyone.

 

His abrupt behavior momentarily startled his companions, but they quickly regained their composure, likely deciding that finishing the discussion was more important.

 

Clearing his throat softly, the man redirected everyone’s attention back to him.

 

“Now, as I was saying, regarding the procedure…”

 

However, his words were once again interrupted.

 

Richard, after staring out the window, suddenly turned and strode back to the table.

 

Instead of returning to his seat, he drew his sword from his hip in a single fluid motion.

 

The blade, sharp and polished, gleamed ominously.

 

Without hesitation, Richard pointed the blade at Iona’s chin and issued a curt command.

 

“Remove the veil.”

--- End Of The Chapter ----

 

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