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“His Excellency, the Marquis, is currently at the royal palace…”

“I’ve already checked that he’s at home. Just pass on the message.”

“No, it’s just that…”

The guard was flustered.

The Marquis of Branford was not someone who could be met just by showing up unannounced. One had to send a request in advance, secure an appointment, and wait for several months before finally getting a chance to see him.

Even now, there were dozens of nobles waiting to meet the Marquis.

“If you leave your name and business in the visitors’ log, someone will reach out to arrange a schedule…”

“I’m here for something really important, so at least relay the message. If he tells me to leave, I will.”

“No, it’s… Ugh.”

The guard let out a sigh, trying to suppress his irritation, and asked about the purpose of the visit.

“Tell him I’m here about Lady Rosalyn. A few days ago, she bought some of my cosmetics from here, and I’m here to check on the results and see if there’s any way I can help.”

As soon as he heard the name “Rosalyn,” the guard’s expression stiffened.

At one point, the Marquis’s family had desperately sought out all sorts of beauty products and medicines in an effort to cure Rosalyn’s skin condition.

Those blinded by greed would come hoping for a stroke of luck, offering untested remedies and methods, or even outright selling fake products.

Every time, Rosalyn would accept them all with a glimmer of hope. But none of them worked.

Her condition worsening was common, and there had been times when she had barely survived after being poisoned.

The Marquis of Branford did not forgive those who tried to deceive his daughter.

Knowing this, the guard only saw Ghislain as someone walking right into a deathtrap.

The guard spoke cautiously.

“I understand your intentions, but… just give up. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose your head.”

“I’m fine with that, so just deliver the message.”

“I’m not fine with it. If I let someone in carelessly, I’ll die too. Even passing on the message might get me killed.”

The guard pleaded with a desperate, almost tearful expression, begging for mercy.

Seeing the guard standing there, eyes tightly shut in stubborn refusal, Ghislain scratched his head vigorously.

“Then at least call the butler. Tell him the person who sold the cosmetics a few days ago has come by. Even if I can’t meet the Marquis, I should be able to see the butler, right?”

“It’s just…”

“Come on, hurry!”

Ghislain pushed insistently.

Once the Marquis left his residence, it would be hard to catch him for several days. Now that he was at home, there was no telling when another opportunity would arise.

In the end, the guard, pressured by Ghislain’s persistence, called for the butler.

The butler approached Ghislain with the same dry, expressionless demeanor as when they had first met.

“What brings you here?”

“Have you tried the cosmetics? How was it?”

“They were of no use.”

Ghislain wasn’t surprised. He just nodded.

“Right? I looked into it a bit, and to treat the Marquis’s young lady, it seems we need a different method than just cosmetics.”

“A different method, you say?”

“Well… it’s not something to discuss here. I should speak directly with the Marquis.”

Ghislain, with his arms crossed and standing slightly askew, grinned slyly.

“Pass on the message to the Marquis immediately. Tell him I want to see him, that this is the last chance to resolve his daughter’s issue. If he still refuses, well, there’s nothing I can do. But who do you think stands to lose more?”

The butler hesitated for a moment before giving a warning.

“If you’re bluffing, it could be dangerous. The Marquis is not one to show leniency just because someone is a noble.”

Ghislain frowned, clearly annoyed.

“Isn’t it a win-win for you, regardless? Just deliver the message. Don’t regret it later.”

Though his attitude was rather crass for a noble, there was an odd sense of confidence in his demeanor. This swayed the butler’s resolve.

Despite the cosmetics having little effect on Rosalyn, they were made by someone who had garnered high praise from other nobles.

Seeing someone so confident about a solution, the butler thought it might be worth giving him a final chance.

“It may be a win-win for us, but it might not be the same for the Baron. Still, if you insist, I’ll speak to the Marquis.”

“Yes, yes. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The butler turned and went off to find the Marquis of Branford.

When the Marquis, who was buried in a mountain of paperwork in his office, heard the butler’s report, he tilted his head in curiosity.

“Baron Fenris? Who is that?”

“He’s the one who made the cosmetics we purchased a few days ago. A young noble backed by Countess Mariel Aylesbur.”

“Ah, yes. I remember now. But he just came right out and said he wanted to see me?”

“That’s correct. He claims he can cure the young lady’s ailment.”

The Marquis of Branford narrowed his eyes.

“What an insolent fellow. Who does he think he is, barging in here unannounced and demanding to see me?”

The Marquis seemed more upset about the audacity of the sudden visit than the prospect of help for his daughter.

Did he think this place was easy to waltz into without so much as an appointment?

This was as good as challenging the Marquis’s authority.

“Send him away. Make it clear he’s not to come here again.”

Despite the Marquis’s firm stance, the butler gently persisted in persuading him.

“He seems to be a noble who has just recently arrived from the countryside, so he might not fully understand the Marquis’s position. But given how confident he is, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance.”

The Marquis of Branford furrowed his brow momentarily but did not explode in anger.

If the butler, who had served him faithfully for so many years, was speaking this strongly, there had to be a reason.

Noticing the Marquis’s hesitation, the butler pressed a little more earnestly.

“Recently, the young lady’s condition has been worsening. There are many rumors around here about the effectiveness of Baron Fenris’s cosmetics. Considering that a noble who personally crafted such products might have a unique approach, it could be worth hearing him out.”

The Marquis of Branford asked with a blank expression.

“Well, does that even matter?”

It wasn’t that the Marquis had completely given up from the start.

He had tried everything, even leveraging the authority of the Marquis household, but there had been no improvement in Rosalyn’s condition.

As her father, he felt a sense of pity, but he wasn’t overly concerned.

After all, his daughter was destined to live as the matron of a noble household.

It would certainly be uncomfortable, but not being able to see the sunlight wasn’t something he thought would drastically affect her life.

“A peaceful household would allow you to focus on external affairs more comfortably, wouldn’t it, Marquis? If it turns out to be a bluff, you can punish him then.”

When the butler spoke again, the Marquis let out a faint smile.

“If I have him beheaded, Mariel would be saddened.”

“The Countess would understand. If he fails, it means he lied to you, Marquis.”

The Marquis had never forgiven anyone who lied to him or challenged his authority.

Even if it was someone under Mariel’s protection, there would be no exceptions.

Despite her influence, it did not extend far enough to reach the Marquis of Branford.

“Bring him in. I’ll meet him and decide whether to send him back. Also, bring me more information on Baron Fenris.”

“Yes, understood.”

Soon, the doors of the Branford mansion opened wide.

The guards who had been monitoring Ghislain looked surprised.

It was rare for the Marquis to receive someone who showed up so unannounced.

Ghislain nodded, as if this outcome was only natural, and entered confidently.

* * *

The Marquis of Branford sat at the head seat, gazing at Ghislain with a detached expression.

In a mocking tone, he spoke.

“To think that the man at the center of all the latest gossip would come here in person. So, you wish to help my daughter?”

Ghislain, not one to fuss over formalities, responded directly.

“Yes, I believe I can be of assistance to the young lady.”

“Your confidence is impressive, but how can I trust you with my daughter?”

“Didn’t you hear from the butler? I’ve cured ‘Eternal Punishment’ before. I’m not like the run-of-the-mill quacks you’ve seen until now.”

The Marquis of Branford slowly picked up a document lying beside him and read through it.

“Yes, there were rumors of a priest in Raypold who was making such claims. But there’s no evidence that it was your doing.”

‘As expected of the Branford household. They’ve kept an eye on even the remote estates.’

The Marquis hadn’t finished speaking.

“A northern ruffian, a shut-in Swordmaster, a compulsive liar, a fool’s companion, a bundle of insecurities, a madman… Would you trust someone with such nicknames?”

Ghislain clicked his tongue quietly, lowering his head so his expression wouldn’t be seen.

‘They’ve recorded everything so meticulously.’

No matter what people said, Ghislain was still a direct heir of a lord. Naturally, there would be information compiled about him, even if it included negative reputations—those were a type of information, too.

Fearing he might show a flaw, he quickly composed his expression and lifted his head again to face the Marquis.

“I heard that even the priests couldn’t treat the young lady’s illness. Well, divine power isn’t all-powerful, after all.”

“You say such things casually, words that would make the temple priests gasp.”

The Marquis of Branford leaned back in his chair, a look of intrigue spreading across his face.

“You’ve never even seen my daughter. How can you claim to know her symptoms and say you can help her?”

“Haven’t there already been enough rumors spreading around? Let me give it a try. It won’t take long.”

The Marquis of Branford let out a dry laugh, propping his chin up with one hand as he spoke.

“I’m not sure if you’re fearless or just oblivious because you’ve only just arrived in the capital. Well, talking like that, I assume you’re prepared to risk your life?”

“Must I risk my life just to help someone?”

“What, are you not confident?”

The Marquis’s lips curled into a cold smile.

“I know that Count Ferdium struggles a lot on the frontier. For your father’s sake, I’ll forgive you this once. But don’t overstep your bounds again. This isn’t your estate.”

Count Ferdium, though extremely poor, was a noble loyal to the royal family and known for his honor.

Among the pro-royalist nobles, there had even been talk of increasing support for Ferdium.

However, that had been overshadowed by the ongoing power struggle with the Delfine Duchy.

‘Once should be enough.’

The Marquis of Branford had decided to overlook Ghislain’s rudeness this time, out of consideration for Count Ferdium.

He figured sparing the life of Ferdium’s son would more than compensate for the lack of additional support.

However, Ghislain disregarded this act of mercy and countered instead.

“Do you have no intention of treating your daughter?”

The Marquis responded indifferently.

“It would be nice if she could be treated, but it doesn’t matter even if she can’t. It’s not like her life is in danger.”

“The person in question probably doesn’t see it that way. I will make sure to treat her.”

As Ghislain persisted, Belinda and Claude’s faces turned pale beside him.

The Marquis glanced at Ghislain’s anxious subordinates and let out a small chuckle.

Even with his attendants clearly uneasy, Ghislain showed no sign of retracting his words.

Despite all the warnings, if he was still insistent, the Marquis had to give him credit for his courage.

“Fine, if you’re that determined, then give it a try. If you succeed, I’ll reward you accordingly.

–“Butler.”

“Yes, Marquis.”

“Make sure Baron Fenris has all the support he needs for the treatment. Once it’s done, I’ll decide how to handle him personally.”

“Understood.”

“You’re all dismissed.”

The Marquis waved his hand, looking distinctly uninterested.

He had already pushed aside thoughts of his daughter and Ghislain, his mind now occupied with how to deal with the Delfine Duke.

It was as he was standing up, contemplating his next move against the Duke, that Ghislain spoke up confidently.

“I don’t need any suitable reward.”

“What?”

The Marquis, who had been about to leave, turned back to look at Ghislain.

“You don’t want a reward? That’s not for you to decide. It will depend on the outcome, and I’ll be the one to determine it.”

Clicking his tongue in frustration, the Marquis waved his hand toward the butler, signaling him to summon the guards to throw Ghislain out if necessary.

But then, a bold statement followed.

“Not just any reward—grant me one thing that I desire.”