How to Survive as the Wife of The Monster Duke

The atmosphere in the drawing room of Arlen Mansion was tense as Viscount Arlen, sporting an unusual pair of glasses, pored over the contract in front of him. His brows furrowed, he suddenly felt a pang of offense at something, disrupting his concentration.

But Cass was quick to remind him, “’L’ has instructed us to fulfill the terms of the contract.”

Viscount Arlen couldn’t help but be impressed by ‘L’. As he resumed reading through the contract, his mind wandered to the image of the woman in the black veil he had met before. Her fancy hair ornament and expensive clothing hinted at her elevated social status.

With a shake of his head, the viscount returned to the contract, poring over it for the seventh time. Across from him, the man from Acid patiently waited for his decision.

As Viscount Arlen contemplated Cass’s name, he couldn’t help but think that the man lacked basic manners. Wasn’t it common knowledge among aristocrats to fill the awkward silence when their conversation partner was struggling?

But, he reminded himself, Cass was a merchant. This was why they often clashed with people of noble blood. The viscount inwardly clicked his tongue in annoyance, his eyes shifting back to Cass.

The man seemed like he had grown up in a world without sunlight or even the ability to afford a decent meal. A self-proclaimed authority on everything, he often made things more complicated than they needed to be.

The viscount’s gaze met Cass’s intense black eyes, but he quickly looked back down at the contract. Even when he lifted his pipe and took a contemplative puff, nothing changed. The contract was flawless in his eyes.

Cass’s troubled face conveyed the gravity of his words. “Delivery is due tomorrow. You must fulfill the delivery or pay the full price by then. We can’t risk running short on supplies to the north.”

The issue, of course, was minuscule in comparison to Acid. The Arlen Territory had no use for carrots, and even during winter, the sudden influx of carrots was an embarrassment to the maids. Some even resorted to playing with unripe carrots when faced with a surplus.

Viscount Arlen felt his head spin at an uncharacteristically fast pace. Had he squandered all his funds entertaining the Duke of Leon’s guests? He had hoped to save some for emergencies, but reality hit hard.

He had spent freely, with the expectation of periodic funds and deliveries. The sudden demand for payment had caught him off guard.

Pretending to study the contract, he furrowed his brows in deep thought. If only Ilyin were here, he could handle the matter with ease.

Suddenly, the Viscount’s eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.

“Ah!”

A light bulb went off in Viscount Arlen’s head as he exclaimed, and Cass’s attention shifted to him. Had he discovered a loophole in the contract?

“Is the person I met before still in Acid’s group?” the viscount asked.

Cass froze like a block of ice. Was he referring to His Highness? He had met with him, after all!

“Yes, he is,” Cass reluctantly answered.

The viscount’s face brightened, but Cass couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. Surely His Highness was not treating him well, so why did he look so pleased? His doubts were soon resolved in an unexpected direction – a bloody one.

“Do you know the woman he is carrying?” Viscount Arlen inquired.

Cass, being a person of normal intellect, did not immediately comprehend the meaning behind ‘the woman he was carrying’. Could it be the mistress? he wondered.

“Yes, I do,” he responded.

However, Cass was uncertain about what he planned to do concerning the mistress. He also knew that Ilyin belonged to Viscount Arlen, but his ethical values prevented him from speculating on the Viscount’s intentions.

He thought to himself, You didn’t treat her well while she was here, so what are you trying to achieve? As a true Delrose, Cass held the utmost respect for the bride of the sun, who was said to bring light and warmth to the darkest days of winter.

“She is actually my daughter,” Viscount Arlene stated, clearing his throat a few times as if the admission was a new story for him to tell. Cass couldn’t help but look at him with a somewhat absurd expression as he absorbed his words. However, before he could form any words, Viscount Arlen hit him on the knee, as if trying to bring him back to the present moment.

“Oh, did you come to the funeral too? If you came, you would already know,” Viscount Arlen continued, his tone now more conversational.

Cass shook his head, “No, I was unable to attend,” he said.