Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 221

“…What?”

The Count’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Casey? She would never do something like that.”

He was about to deny his daughter’s misconduct but suddenly paused, something dawning on him.

“And… who was the man?”

The butler replied,

“…It was Miguel, sir.”

“Oh…!”

The Countess let out a pained gasp, sinking slowly to the floor. But the Count had no time to support her—his mind was in a tangled web of chaos.

“Nigel and my daughter… both committing indiscretions at the same time?”

If that were true, his family would be left with no ground to stand on—neither with the Rosencrantz Marquisate nor the Lasphilla County.

Each family now held a piece of leverage against the others. If any one of them tried to exploit the situation for their own gain, all of them would be dragged into a muddy pit.

It was an absurd situation where enemies had become unfortunate allies bound by fate. How could such a thing happen? Was it the gods playing tricks on them?

The Count slowly wiped his dry face with one hand.

“Ahh…”

His empty sighs drifted out like lamentations from a hollow shell, as if his very soul had been drained from him.

* * *

The party ended in disarray.

In the aftermath of the commotion, only weary sighs and an empty silence filled the space, as though the air itself was exhausted.

Because most guests had witnessed Casey and Miguel’s indiscretion, Nigel and Cecilia’s encounter remained known to only a few.

However, once the chaos around Casey and Miguel subsided, their story would inevitably resurface, too. It was only a matter of timing—what needed to come to light would come to light.

Thus, the households of Heens, Rosencrantz, and Lasphilla were all plagued by the looming threat of scandal.

“This is… such a trial from above,” the Count muttered. “An ordeal far too great… Has the Countess recovered yet?”

The Count glanced at the butler as he continued to pace aimlessly around the drawing room, sidestepping furniture.

“The Madam just woke up, sir. The shock was substantial, so I brought her a cup of warmed brandy and called a doctor.”

“Let’s hope he’s willing to come at this late hour.”

“I offered a generous tip, so unless he’s just inherited an unexpected fortune, he should be here shortly.”

“Yes… right…”

The Count slumped into a sofa, draping his heavy arms over both armrests and gazing blankly at the ceiling with his eyes closed. His head had been spinning since earlier.

“And… what about the others?”

“The Countess and House Lasphilla’s eldest daughter have confirmed their attendance. Marquis Rosencrantz himself indicated he would need rest, having only recently arrived in the capital.”

“So, who will come in his place?”

“Marchioness Rosencrantz was present at the party. I’ve explained the situation to her and asked if she would stay.”

“Ah, that woman…”

Guinevere Rosencrantz. The woman was like a viper.

The Count recalled her distinctive background. He’d known Guinevere since before she was formally married to the Marquis, back when she’d served as his mistress for quite some time.

At the time, she’d seemed like nothing more than a pretty woman with a talent for smooth talk.

Then, before he knew it, news came that the Marquis’s first wife had passed. Before he could even send his condolences, an invitation to the Marquis’s wedding arrived—his new bride was named Guinevere Deinz.

“This is complicated… I would have preferred to speak man-to-man with the Marquis himself rather than deal with her.”

From that point on, the Count had labeled Guinevere as ‘a woman not to be underestimated’. She had venom in her. With it, she’d eliminated Nigel’s birth mother and quietly taken control of the Marquis’s power, bit by bit.

And now, here she was, naturally stepping in to handle matters that rightfully belonged to the Marquis.

In light of that history, Nigel Rosencrantz’s cold, blade-like personality seemed more understandable. Although, that didn’t excuse his infidelity.

“I thought he might despise women, but I never expected him to indulge in something like this.”

He had been too complacent.

For that man to be involved with a woman from Guinevere’s side of the family, of all people—an illegitimate child, no less, and the daughter of a gypsy.

It was all so unexpected, so beyond the realm of possibility, that it felt surreal. He felt as if someone were dangling him by a string and toying with him.

But no amount of pinching his cheeks or banging his forehead would change the reality. As unbelievable as it all was, it was indeed real.

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