Chapter 28

The baron clenched his fists, his voice low and clear: “Say it again. Tell me the reason.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I still replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Ha. So you’d rather face the constables,” he sneered.

My heart suddenly sank. If I were handed over to the sheriff on charges of plotting against a noble, death would surely await me. I looked up at the baron, his face filled with rage, lips tightly pressed, clearly infuriated by me. Perhaps he was regretting ever trusting someone as vile and monstrous as me.

In truth, he really should have handed me over to the sheriff. After being murdered by the Viscount Lloyd’s family, I was reborn and went to great lengths to avenge my past self. But what about the baron? If I were to cause his death, how would he seek revenge? He didn’t even know, treating me as his most trusted confidant.

This might be a chance for atonement. If he handed me over to the sheriff, would that count as his revenge against me?

“Still refusing to speak? Shall I call the sheriff?” the baron shouted sternly.

I stood before him, gazing into his brown eyes, and slowly spoke: “My lord, I… do not deny my actions. Whatever decision you make, I will bear no resentment. But I do not regret this choice. I despise Viscount Lloyd—they are wicked and shameless, deserving of their fate!”

The baron paced back and forth in the room, seemingly weighed down by heavy concerns. Time passed minute by minute, and the wait for his judgment felt unbearably long, as if a century had gone by. Finally, I heard his verdict.

“I am deeply disappointed in you,” he said. “The viscount never harmed you or your family, and he was once your master. Yet you ruined his daughter’s reputation, deliberately led him into a failed investment that could bankrupt him. I don’t know what grudge could drive you to scheme against him so viciously. Since you refuse to explain, I have no choice but to hand you over to the sheriff.”

It’s all over, I thought to myself. No more guilt, no more hatred—perhaps the next time will be much simpler.

Suddenly, the baron swept everything off his desk with a loud crash. He strode over to me, grabbed my collar, and pinned me against the wall.

“Do you think I’m reluctant to hand you over to the sheriff? Do you think saving me twice means I’ll shield you from your crimes? Maybe your usual demeanor was all an act—pretending to be gentle and harmless, pretending… pretending to seduce me!”

I stared at him silently, saying nothing. The baron let go with a disappointed expression, walked to the door, and said, “Get out. I don’t want to see you today.”

After being thrown out of the study, I returned to my bedroom and sat quietly on the bed, waiting for the sheriff to arrive. Yet no one came for me until evening, when Hodgson knocked on my door.

“Toker, Toker, are you in there?” His voice came from outside.

“Yes, Mr. Hodgson,” I opened the door to find him alone.

“Are you unwell? You missed lunch and didn’t show up for dinner either,” Hodgson asked with concern. “Should I call a doctor for you?”

“No…” I hesitated. “I’m fine… Did the baron not send anyone…?”

“What do you mean?” Hodgson frowned.

“Nothing, I just overslept. My deepest apologies,” I explained.

“If you’re fine, then hurry to the master. He’s in his bedroom and just summoned you,” the butler urged.

My heart was uneasy. If he hadn’t called the sheriff, what did he plan to do? It was already 8 p.m., and the baron, dressed in his night robe, sat on the sofa, clearly waiting for me.

“My lord,” I bowed nervously. “You summoned me?”

The baron sighed, watching the flickering candlelight, and said, “I called you so late because I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Whatever you decide, I will obey,” I murmured softly.

The baron was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke: “I won’t hand you over to the sheriff. I can’t do it. Your attentiveness these days has made it impossible for me to be harsh with you. You’ve won; I’ve lost to my own principles.”

“My lord…” I hesitated, words caught in my throat.

“But you can’t stay by my side either. I’ll send you away. I have estates in the southern continent and France—you can choose to go there. Or, I’ll give you five hundred pounds, and you can buy your own passage to wherever you wish. After you leave, I’ll inform Viscount Lloyd of everything, so you’d best never return.”

I stared at him blankly, unprepared for how he had arranged my fate.

“Think it over tonight and give me your answer in the morning,” he said stiffly, turning his face away. “You may leave now.”

It felt as though a piece of my heart had been carved out–sour and bitter, yet helpless. I bowed and prepared to depart.

“Wait.” The baron suddenly stood, walked to me, and handed me an object.

“This is the reward I promised earlier—a trinket, originally meant for you. Take it. If you don’t want it, you can sell it.”

It was an exquisite hexagonal brooch, shimmering with color.

” This was given to me by my teacher when I excelled in my studies. You’re clever—even if you leave here, continue learning. Don’t waste that intellect.” With that, the baron fell silent, gripping my hand for a long moment.

I tried to pull away, but he held tighter, his gaze intense: “You… truly won’t explain anything? No matter what it is, I’m willing to believe you…”

For a moment, I nearly gave in to the urge to confess everything. But in the end, I stayed silent—perhaps out of selfishness. I’d rather he see me as a villain than know I had once caused his death.

Finally, I withdrew my hand and quietly left the room. I didn’t leave immediately but lingered outside. Soon, the sound of a violin drifted from the room—discordant, as if voicing his turmoil.

I slumped against the wall, listening quietly. Even knowing what I’d done, he couldn’t bring himself to doom me. What should I do? Leave like this? What of my revenge? If I go, and the Lloyds harm the baron again—what then?

I can’t leave like this—but what reason do I have to stay? Staring at the brooch in my hand, I suddenly resolved: I can’t go. I must stay, make the baron willing to keep me without questioning why. Even if my actions remain despicable, even if they hurt him.

I am reborn—did God grant me a second life if not for revenge? What does it matter if I must sacrifice everything? The baron has treated me well, and I owe him, but does that mean I must abandon vengeance? How else can I quell this gnawing hatred? Must I watch the Lloyds kill the baron and thrive?

No. The baron can kill me, hand me to the sheriff, even send me to the ends of the earth. But he can never erase my resolve for revenge. Even if it costs everything, even if it pains him—so long as I can strike back at Viscount Lloyd, so long as the baron lives, it doesn’t matter if he despises me as vile and shameless.

With that, I wiped my tears and returned to my room. I undressed, donned a nightgown, and waited. Around ten, I took a candlestick and left. Hesitating briefly, I picked up a long lace cravat on my way out.

I carried the candlestick to the baron’s door, blew out the candle, and placed the holder on the ground. Then, I covered my eyes with the lace tie, tying a tight knot at the back. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The baron was clearly still awake, and the moment the door opened, I heard his surprised voice.

“You… what are you doing?” My heart pounded. Would he drive me out? Would he mock, scorn, or even curse at me? I had no way of knowing.

I covered my eyes with my hands, seeing nothing, so I wouldn’t have to worry about what expression he might show. Even disdain and disgust couldn’t make me retreat. After returning to my bedroom, I straightened my clothes and lay exhausted on the bed. The earlier encounter left me flushed and feverish. I could still recall the warmth of his touch.

I dared not dwell on it, only hugging myself to shake off the guilt. I had done the most despicable, shameless thing yet—trying to trade my body for a chance to stay. I was gambling, betting that he liked me, loved me, even that he wouldn’t let me go, despite knowing I bore ill will toward the Lloyd family and had committed many wrongs.

My actions were so vile—how was I any different from Lilyanna, whom I once scorned? The only difference was that I used raw, naked desire. If I accused Lilyanna of hurting the baron’s feelings, then I was even more shameless.

During our earlier intimacy, though I couldn’t see his face, his movements, caresses, and kisses all spoke of his feelings. He liked me, he loved me… At that moment, I felt utterly ugly, overwhelmed by regret. I shouldn’t have done this—it was too despicable.

For a moment, I was lost in confusion, my once-firm resolve for revenge blurring. Was vengeance truly so important? Even for that goal, was it worth hurting and betraying everyone?

I couldn’t answer myself, only waiting silently for dawn in this despair. Perhaps tomorrow, someone would give me an answer…