Please Lend Me 50 Million - Chapter 57

Bellstein Mansion—an old castle purchased from an elderly noblewoman—had many corners that differed from more recently built estates. Most visitors were captivated by the sophisticated and antique interior, thinking it no different from any other mansion. However, the servants who navigated every nook and cranny felt the castle’s immense age whenever they encountered its uniquely complex structure.

People’s attitudes toward this layout were split into two.

Those who grumbled about the tangled paths, and those who utilized them.

Cecile, moving with quick steps while clutching items to her chest, belonged to the latter.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

What even was an heir, for her to be tasked with such a thing? Cecile, who was moving forward without hesitation, hurriedly hid her body against a wall at the sound of a presence from the opposite side. From her huddled posture to the box she held in her arms—every part of her looked suspicious.

As a shadow brushed past her, Cecile squeezed her eyes shut and spewed all sorts of words internally. Most were curses like Damn it! S**t! while others were grievances like, ‘To go through such hardship just to marry that guy….’ or ‘If I get caught, the Count won’t leave me alone….’

As the strength in the hands hugging the items intensified, the identity of the objects she was clutching felt vividly real.

From bulging d****s to sticky lube and strange tools whose purposes were unknown.

None of them were normal from the start, but among these bizarre tools, there was one that served as the finishing touch….

It was a ‘rope’ that made her question if it was truly meant to be used on the ‘Count.’

Oh, Lord.

Cecile sought the God she hadn’t called upon since she was three years old. And even if she was a lamb returning after a long time, she fervently hoped that God would look down upon her with mercy. She didn’t even want to imagine her Madam using this on the Count, and her hands were already trembling at the thought of the Count’s wrath falling upon her, an accomplice.

Opening her eyes at the sound of receding footsteps, Cecile crept back into the hallway. Perhaps because her heart had been chilled, her fingertips felt icy.

Cecile passed through the kitchen passage to the East Wing, from the 3rd floor of the East Wing back to the West Wing, walked up the leftmost stairs that were rarely used… and finally set foot in the 2nd-floor hallway of the Main Building, where the Count’s bedroom was located. Perhaps because she knew of the watchers the Count had tightly stationed, she felt as if she were being chased even though no presence was felt. Clothes soaked in cold sweat clung to her back.

Still, the goal was right in front of her.

A faint smile spread across Cecile’s bloodless face. The Main Building hallway, with its green-painted walls and gold lamps placed at regular intervals, exuded a strange sense of intimidation. As Cecile’s pace quickened, her shoes made a hard clicking sound against the floor.

Tap, tap, tap.

Arriving in front of the delicately crafted bedroom door, Cecile let out the breath she had been holding. It was a sigh that came naturally out of relief that she hadn’t been caught by anyone. Opening the bedroom door while catching her ragged breath, Cecile… froze right there.

“Cecile.”

A soft voice echoed in the oppressive space. No, would it be correct to call it soft? The sweat that had beaded on the nape of her neck trickled down her back. A chill began to rise from the cooled sweat. Cecile’s retinas fully captured the person occupying the bedroom.

The man who embodied the summer of Peliche—her master’s husband.

It was Harriet Bellstein.

“Speak. What scheme are you plotting?”

It was a murderous voice, enough to make her hackles rise.

* * *

“Haa.”

She felt suffocated. Why was the sunlight so bright? The stinging rays of early summer poked at her skin. Haa…. Asha took a deep breath as if to drive away the heat.

The story of how the Countess of Bellstein, the second most precious person in Peliche, ended up wandering the marketplace was simple.

Escape.

Certainly, she had been gleeful when she told Cecile to hide ‘those’ supplies in the bedroom. However, from the moment Cecile left the room, all sorts of thoughts began to swarm. Why was her imagination so good? Her thoughts raced to the level of delusions. Her heart dropped several times, worrying if Cecile had been caught midway or if she had taken the wrong path—it was clear that at this rate, Asha would lose her breath before she could even execute the plan.

‘It’s not that I’m faint-hearted, it’s Harriet—!’

Recalling those green eyes as thick as a swamp, Asha trembled. In this territory of Peliche, which could be said to be in the palm of Harriet’s hand, Asha was probably the only one who had pulled off something of this scale behind his back. It wouldn’t be human not to be scared in this situation.