WeTried Translations
Translator: ZERO_SUGAR
Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 519: Side Story, About Gold Coins (Part 3)
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“Um, Lady Dieta?”
“Yes, Pasion?”
“Have you caught a cold? It doesn't seem particularly chilly out, so do you really need both a scarf and a coat...?”
Dieta flinched.
“Well, it turned out to be colder than I thought. My arms were cold, you see. I haven't caught a cold, so don't worry. Anyway, how has the Cambrian Branch been lately...?”
Quickly changing the subject, Dieta feigned indifference. The fact that she was hiding the marks left all over her body was a secret. How could she admit something that embarrassing? After offering a few vague replies and dismissing her escort knight, Dieta sank deeply into the back of her chair.
Gnnngh.
Her lower back felt stiff. Was it because she had used muscles she never normally used, or because she had exercised too intensely? Probably both.
Thump, thump.
Pounding her lower back with her fist, she slumped over her desk. She was supposed to be working, yet she could not focus at all. Whenever she closed her eyes, what had happened two days ago flickered before them.
“...”
Heavy breaths, thin moans that she could not believe had come from her own mouth, falling beads of sweat, and hands stroking her cheek...
“This is crazy. Crazy!”
Dieta slapped her cheeks a few times. Snap out of it, Dieta Arbenia. Shouldn't you be focusing on work during working hours? Letting out a long breath, she drained a glass of water in an instant and returned to her work.
She managed to focus for around thirty minutes.
After those thirty minutes, though, she found herself slumped over the table again, grinning foolishly. It could not be helped. No matter how great a merchant she was, one whose influence spanned both the Continent and the Outland, she was still a woman who had only recently begun a romance.
Two days ago, she had finally gone and done it.
At an unexpected moment, in an unexpected way, she had achieved what she wanted. That night had been rather intense, hot, and lingering. Even two days later, she could not shake off the dreamy feeling.
‘It was a little different from what I imagined, though.’
To be honest, it was not merely a little different. In the novels she had read, the matter was lightly glossed over. Reality, however, had been anything but light. The next morning had not been refreshing either. It had left her exhausted.
Yet even that exhaustion felt pleasant to Dieta.
The fact that it had not been a one-night dream, that it had truly happened rather than being one of her fantasies, all those things that made it feel real, were rather lovely to her.
Patting her stiff back, Dieta leaned her head back.
‘How should I put this?’
It made her sound like an immature girl, but she felt as though she had become a little more grown-up. The thought that suddenly crossed her mind made her laugh. Wasn't that exactly the sort of thought an adolescent would have? Spending a night with one's lover did not make one an adult.
Even so, she did not entirely deny her own thought.
Children became adults by experiencing countless things. Experiencing something she had never experienced before also meant becoming an adult. Entertaining such silly thoughts, she looked toward the window.
Through the gap in the slightly opened window, a fairly cold wind blew in.
Come to think of it, winter was approaching. It had not arrived yet, but it was not far off either. This time, at the end of autumn or the beginning of winter, felt a little special to Dieta. Everyone had a season that was special to them.
The season when fallen leaves covered the streets and chilly winds began to blow. A season that belonged neither to autumn nor winter.
It was also the season in which she had been born.
2.
Her birthday was approaching.
With her birthday ahead of her, Dieta counted the years that had passed on her fingers. She was now twenty-five, which meant it had been exactly ten years since she had fled the ducal house. Before long, she would turn twenty-six.
Twenty-six.
The age felt strangely familiar.
Why was that?
It did not take long for Dieta to remember an old memory buried deep within her mind. It was a memory from nearly twenty years ago, let alone ten.
“...”
It was a memory of her mother.
A pitiful woman who had hanged herself, leaving behind a seven-year-old child. A woman who had taken her own life because she could not bear what she had become, who had not even found the courage to endure her fall.
Cecil Arbenia.
She had died at twenty-six.
Come to think of it, her mother had been twenty-six when she died. She had worked for the ducal house from childhood, and when her beauty came into full bloom, the Duke had plucked that flower without hesitation and placed it in a vase.
So that it could not grow any further.
So that no one else would notice it.
A flower placed in a vase and favored by the Duke might not have had such a bad life. Yet cut flowers were bound to wither. Especially when they were left where the eyes and hands of others could reach them.
Fire. Soot. Scars. Fallen petals.
Once the flower lost its beauty, it withered in an instant. A withered flower had no value, so the Duke discarded it carelessly.
That had been the end of Cecil Arbenia.
“...Twenty-six.”
That was how old she had been.
And her daughter had been seven.
“...”
Resting her chin on her hand, Dieta recalled that day. Her mother's death, which she had been forced to witness on her seventh birthday. It had been such a shocking sight that she had not been able to think deeply about it then, but now she could understand it differently.
Why had her mother hanged herself?
There were many ways to die, so why had she chosen that one? Dieta had grown old enough to consider a question that had never occurred to her then, and shrewd enough to immediately find its answer.
“She must have wanted to show them.”
Dieta spoke lightly.
“To the Duke who abandoned her, to the ducal house that drove her that far, to the servants who despised her...”
She must have wanted to leave them with a memory they could never forget.
It had been the best revenge she could manage.
Unfortunately, even one's best did not always work. Her revenge had failed to wound those she hated. It had only left a wound on her daughter, whom she had tried but ultimately failed to hate, and so had pitied.
When Dieta spoke the word mother, she felt no longing.
Resentment, hatred, sorrow, anger.
Those were the feelings she had toward the mother who had left her behind. At least, they had been until a few years ago. But when she thought now of the woman named Cecil Arbenia, she felt something a little different.
‘...She simply wouldn't have known how.’
Nearly twenty years had passed since her mother's death.
Twenty years was a long time.
A child became a girl, a girl became a woman, and a woman became an adult. It was more than enough time for that.
‘She wouldn't have known how to use her position, how to make her place secure, or how to use the money earned from selling her beauty to increase her worth. She wouldn't have known any of it.’
Dieta thought about the woman who was not her mother, but Cecil Arbenia.
She remembered her life. She thought about why Cecil had made that choice, why she had been driven so far, why she had fallen into such misery, and why she had ultimately hanged herself before her own daughter.
‘She could not have known.’
After thinking and thinking...
‘She was only twenty-six.’
Dieta came to understand Cecil Arbenia.
‘Before she had even experienced the world, she was placed in the position of Duchess. She knew nothing. She had not even received a proper education. She must have been too busy holding on to what fell into her hands to think of how to protect it.’
Once she understood, all that remained was pity.
“...”
She pitied her mother.
Once that thought reached her, Dieta rose from her seat and called for her escort knight. When Pasion asked what was wrong and where she wished to go, she gave him a brief answer.
“To the detached house.”
“...Pardon?”
“You know, the one set apart from the rest.”
It was where her mother had died, and where Dieta had spent her childhood. A detached house at the far edge of the territory, far from the family estate. It had once been called Arbenia's birdcage, but now it stood abandoned and uncared for.
“There is something I need to check.”
Dieta headed there.
3.
Duke Dieta Arbenia.
Quite some time had passed since she overturned Arbenia and took control of the ducal house, but Dieta had not torn down the buildings and statues her father had left behind. Instead, she deliberately left them where they were.
She thought that would hurt them more.
And her revenge had been fairly successful.
Most of those who had wielded power beneath the name of Arbenia could not endure their fall. Once the authority they had relied upon disappeared, nothing remained for them. In the end, they ruined themselves with drink or took their own lives.
Her older siblings who had tormented her.
The collateral relatives who had looked down on her.
The retainers of the ducal house who had acted above their station.
Dieta had not directly harmed any of them. A mere glance, a single smile, one small gesture was enough. They could not dare meet her eyes. They could not dare voice their discontent. They could not even raise their heads without permission.
That was what it meant to be a Pillar of the Empire.
Yet despite reaching such heights, there was exactly one person Dieta had never been able to take revenge on.
“...”
Dieta stepped into the detached house.
A creak sounded.
She had not torn it down, but she had not maintained it either. There had been no need. It was far from where Dieta stayed, and she did not have enough retainers to require the use of a detached house.
To begin with, Duke of Arbenia was only one of the many titles used to describe her.
For some, that authority might have been their entire life, but it was not for Dieta. She was a Pillar of the Empire and the owner of the greatest trading company. Leaving the management of the ducal territory to her retainers, she watched the affairs of the Empire.
Click.
As she walked through the neglected detached house, she smiled absentmindedly. Come to think of it, she had smashed through that wall and escaped with Najin. The broken wall had still only been covered with wooden boards, never properly repaired.
Click.
Looking at such sights...
Tap.
Dieta stopped before a certain room.
It was Cecil Arbenia's grave.
Cecil had no proper grave, so the room in which she had died must have been her grave. When Dieta pushed open the door, the hinges creaked. Old memories surfaced, and her fingers stiffened for a moment.
That day, on her seventh birthday.
When she opened this door and entered, she had found her mother hanging there. Remembering the sight that remained a wound even now, Dieta's lips moved slightly.
Creeeak...
But of course...
“...”
It was only the past. When she opened the tightly closed door and entered, there was nothing there. Even the traces her mother had left behind had been erased by time. Dieta stared blankly at the empty, dust-covered room.
There was nothing there.
Yet Dieta could see her mother hanging there. It was an illusion created by her memories. Dieta smiled without thinking.
“Ah.”
Dieta opened her mouth.
“How come you haven't gotten any older?”
She sat on a dust-covered chair.
“The other day, Najin told me something.”
After thinking for a long time, Dieta slowly continued.
“He said that he sometimes talks about all the things he has been through in front of a grave. He said it makes his heart feel lighter, and that he can let go of even memories he thought he would never be able to release.”
There was no one listening.
But she spoke anyway.
“I will be twenty-six in a few days.”
Looking at the place where her mother had hanged herself, at the place etched into her memories, she spoke.
“That means it has been nineteen years since you left me, and ten years since I left the ducal house. A long time has passed.”
She spoke of her life.
“So much happened in that time.”
She told the story of all she had been through.
The story was long.
As Dieta told it, she closed her eyes. Whether her eyes were open or closed, she could see her mother hanging there. Her mother was the only person Dieta had never been able to take revenge on.
Just as her mother had been to her, Dieta hated and resented her mother, yet could not cast her aside. Because she could not cast her aside, she loved her.
To Dieta, her mother was someone she both loved and hated. She loved her too much to take revenge on her, yet hated her too much to forget her.
Something left unresolved.
A memory she could not shake off.
For a while, Dieta told her life story to the owner of that memory. By the time she had told it all, she felt refreshed, and opened her eyes.
“So.”
Then she smiled.
“I think I will forgive you now.”
You were once an important part of my life, but you no longer need to be. You are still a painful memory, but I now have enough joyful things to let me forget that pain. My life is now too full of happiness for me to hurt whenever I think of you.
‘So.’
Now, I will let you go.
That was the revenge Dieta carried out.
“Goodbye, Cecil Arbenia.”
Dieta slowly rose from her seat. As she turned to leave the room, she suddenly looked back.
There was nothing there.
The illusion that had lingered since she entered the room was nowhere to be seen. Only the dust-covered room remained. Dieta smiled faintly, then left the house and spoke to her escort knight.
“It has been a long time since anyone used the detached house, and we do not need it anymore.”
She made a light gesture with her hand.
“Should we tear it down and build a garden instead?”
“A garden?”
“Yes. As for the flowers...”
Dieta smiled.
“White flowers would be nice. Now that I think about it, I believe she liked white flowers.”
A flower offering she had failed to give for nearly twenty years.
She paid for all twenty years at once.
With plenty of interest.
“Once it’s finished, I should bring Najin here. You should at least meet him, right? We’ll be holding a wedding soon.”
It was a very merchant-like choice.
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