ANR Ch 13

The talk of Paris expanding wasn’t new. The narrow alleyways and tightly packed buildings cast shadows everywhere, driving citizens away from the sunless streets and towards the outskirts.

The northern outskirts, centered around Montmartre, housed the poor, while the west, beyond the Arc de Triomphe and stretching to Nanterre, was dotted with the mansions of the wealthy. The city walls no longer confined Paris; the burgeoning city relentlessly pushed its people outwards.

“The road is rough. I suppose they haven’t hired anyone to clear the gravel.”

“The Paris mayor wouldn’t want to waste taxes on the outskirts.”

The Countess nodded at her husband’s words. Yves stared out the window. Inside the carriage, having left the city behind, sat the Count and Countess Perrier, along with Yves. They were on their way to the Marquis de Bonal’s soirée.

The Marquis de Bonal was a peer appointed by the King and a staunch advocate for the divine right of kings. Though he had little interest in dancing and revelry, he frequently hosted social gatherings, influenced by his young second wife.

He was also the first to question Simon in Baron Maurice’s underground passage. That day, the Marquis’s decreed punishment was to have Simon’s limbs severed and left to crawl. He had expressed displeasure at Yves for killing Simon outright. He couldn’t comprehend the Le Pere affair, which was slipping out of his control. Yves, to quell any suspicion, was attending tonight’s event, despite his lack of interest.

“It’s been a long time since our whole family went out together, hasn’t it? I wish we had more opportunities like this.”

The Countess looked excitedly between the Count and Yves.

“It’s inaccurate to say the whole family, Mother. One is missing.”

Yves’s words made the Countess flustered, and she quickly corrected herself.

“Oh, right. It would have been nice if Charles had come with us.”

“How can I bring a cripple to a soirée? He would only cause trouble. If you want to pick a fight, get out of the carriage and walk.”

“Shall I, then?”

Without hesitation, Yves knocked on the carriage wall. The coachman abruptly stopped the carriage. Claude, riding alongside, immediately brought his horse to the door.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, my father is trying to kick me out of the carriage. I suppose I’ll have to walk from here.”

Yves opened the carriage door and made to step out. Seeing this, Count Perrier roared with a hardened expression.

“What are you doing, you fool! Do I have to argue with you even here? Get moving again!”

The Count struck the floor twice with his cane. Claude, understanding the situation, closed the door. He looked up and signaled to the coachman, and the wheels began to roll again.

A heavy silence fell over the carriage. Yves and the Count avoided each other’s gaze. Caught in the middle, the Countess fidgeted with her gloved hand against her cheek.

Please, let this day end without incident.

It wasn’t the first time the two had clashed, but there would be many eyes on them today, so she hoped they could both make some concessions.

The swaying carriage grew quiet. They seemed to have entered the Marquis’s estate. A smooth dirt road lined with well-manicured trees stretched out on either side. At the end of the straight path, a three-story mansion came into view.

Many carriages were already lined up at the main gate. Tonight’s soirée was quite large. It was no exaggeration to say that almost every prominent figure in Paris, except the King, was in attendance.

Finally, the Perrier family’s carriage arrived at the entrance, and the Marquis’s servants rushed forward to assist them. The Countess Perrier, holding her dress as she was about to enter, suddenly looked back. She saw Yves’s non-commissioned officer about to tend to the horses with the coachman.

“Sergeant Veil, why don’t you come in with us? It seems a bit inappropriate for a sergeant of the French Guard to be with the coachmen.”

Claude, taken aback by the Countess’s sudden offer, hesitated and looked at his superior officer. Yves thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

The Countess felt a sense of accomplishment. Completely oblivious to the tension between the two, she praised her own quick thinking.

That dark-haired sergeant is always calm, so he’ll prevent Yves from needlessly provoking his father again. She smiled, took Count Perrier’s arm, and entered the mansion.

“Mother seems to have taken a liking to your adjutant.”

Yves waited for Claude, who was handing the reins to a servant. Claude straightened his uniform and quickly approached Yves.

“She’s always been kind to me. Even if she weren’t your mother, Captain, she would be someone to admire.”

“True. She shares her love equally with everyone. Perhaps that’s why she couldn’t have children of her own.”

“She already has two fine sons, so she’ll be fine.”

“Flattery again.”

Yves stepped into the entrance a step ahead of Claude.

In the center of the mansion’s first floor was a grand staircase made of marble. Portraits of the Bonal family, spanning centuries, adorned the walls. To the right of the staircase was a long hallway, at the end of which the doors to the ballroom stood wide open, welcoming the guests.

With four sets of doors open, the ballroom felt connected to the outside. In the center was a space for dancing, and musicians played a waltz. However, no one was dancing yet.

People exchanged greetings, making a fuss to show off their acquaintances. Women complimented each other’s attire, while men exchanged pleasantries about the King.

“Yesterday, he didn’t even recognize the Lord Chamberlain.”

“My, it seems his time is truly drawing near.”

The pleasantries continued endlessly. Everyone wished for him to rest peacefully with God soon.

Louis XVIII’s centrist policies had lost the trust of both the left and the right. He kept the aristocratic Senate but formed a leftist cabinet. However, the discredited prime ministers had fallen one after another, and now the cabinet was in the hands of the royalist Villèle.

Claude slowly scanned every corner of the ballroom. Hundreds of candles illuminated the hall as bright as day. The nobles formed small groups of three or four, chattering amongst themselves. There seemed to be no place for him in this gathering of mutual recognition.

But it didn’t matter. Just being able to watch Yves from a distance throughout the night would be a blessing. He wanted to thank the Countess again.

Claude stood like a soldier near the door. Yves took off his gloves and handed them to him.

“You don’t need to wait. Enjoy some food and drink.”

“It’s alright.”

Suddenly, someone called out to Yves in a welcoming voice.

“Captain Perrier!”

It was the Duke of Angoulême, who had led the Spanish expeditionary force. He approached the two with a surprised expression.

“Fancy meeting you here, Captain. I heard you’ve been making frequent appearances in society lately, but I didn’t realize it was true. You’ve changed a lot. I thought you had no interest in balls. What brought you here? By the way, is your injury healed?”

He was the eldest son of the Count of Artois and a vastly superior officer to Yves. With friendly eyes and a handsome face, he patted Yves on the shoulder. They seemed to have been close, as he expressed concern for Yves’s injury. Claude felt a pang of displeasure that someone else knew about the injury he thought only he was privy to.

“Thanks to your concern, Brigadier General. I heard you were in Algeria. When did you return?”

Yves greeted him in a languid voice.

“I arrived just last week. The endemic diseases are rampant during the summer, so I left half of my troops in Nice and plan to stay in Paris. You’re in the Guard now, Captain?”

“Yes, the 2nd Regiment.”

The Duke of Angoulême, as if remembering something, picked up on his words.

“Ah, you took over from Major Necker. It’s a coveted position. How is it, being part of the capital’s defense force, stationed in Paris? Is it better than the mass graves you used to see every day?”

“It’s tedious. My saber is rusting under piles of paperwork.”

“Hahaha. Just like you. Oh, right. Have you greeted your father yet?”

He meant the Count of Artois. Upon hearing that Yves had just arrived and hadn’t yet done so, the Duke of Angoulême patted his shoulder and suggested they move. Then he addressed Claude, who was still standing at attention.

“Relax, Adjutant. Enjoy the food and drink. I’ll borrow your superior officer for a bit.”

He was polite even to a mere non-commissioned officer, making it difficult to dislike him.

“Of course. Have a good time.”

Knowing that Yves couldn’t stay by his side anyway, Claude let him go without hesitation. He planned to do plenty of observing, so it didn’t matter.

The Count of Artois was near the windows on the left side of the ballroom. Beside him were the Marquis de Bonal, the Count de Maistre, and the Count Perrier.

The French aristocracy was currently divided into two main factions. One faction consisted of the established noble families centered around the Count of Artois, the first in line to the throne. The other faction consisted of newly emerged powers like the Broglie family, who had joined hands with the bourgeoisie.

The former believed that military power equaled dominance, while the latter believed that capital would eventually control the world. Both were logically sound. France’s ability to overcome the aftermath of war and stand shoulder to shoulder with its allies again was thanks to its increased military power, but the funds that constituted that military power came from the emerging powers.

And there was another group, albeit a small one.

“Duke Verdier, it’s been a while.”

The Count of Artois and three other nobles greeted someone with polite expressions. It was Marianne’s father, Duke Verdier. He was a close confidant of Louis XVIII and a centrist who advocated for a constitutional monarchy. Despite being over sixty, he still possessed a stubborn personality that occasionally turned the parliament upside down. Standing next to him was the former Prime Minister, the Duke of Richelieu.

Yves, accompanied by the Duke of Angoulême, approached them and exchanged greetings. He blended seamlessly into this gathering of those who currently held the reins of power in France. It was a fitting picture.

They were like a solid wall. Claude, standing amidst this wall, felt his own place. No matter how kind they were to him, Yves was a nobleman, the legitimate heir to an incredibly prominent family. He too would soon receive a title. He would marry, establish a family, and produce an heir.

How long can I watch his glory unfold? He had meant it when he said he didn’t expect anything from Yves, yet the desire for him still simmered within his heart. Of course, he had no desire to be among them, sharing a glass. But he also didn’t want to be robbed without a sound.

Claude suddenly let out a pathetic laugh. Robbed? Who’s robbing whom? I never had him to begin with. This delusion is going too far. Unless another revolution occurred and everyone’s heads rolled, there was no way he could ever have Yves.

“You seem lonely standing here by yourself.”

Someone suddenly approached Claude, lost in his thoughts.

It was Madame Chalet. She seemed to have spotted Claude while chatting with others at the back and had moved over. Claude looked at her with surprise. She always ignored him when he was with Yves, so it was suspicious that she was suddenly acknowledging him today.

“Are you Captain Perrier’s escort again today? It’s too much to bring you all the way in here. Let him rest a bit.”

“I don’t mind.”

“There’s no need to keep staring at him like that. Hehe. Nothing will happen, so relax.”

Madame Chalet glanced in the direction Claude was looking, with a knowing smile. She seemed to be aware of his constant gaze following Yves.

“It’s boring, isn’t it? There are no entertaining events at these gatherings. Just eating, drinking, and talking.”

Ignoring his lack of response, she continued talking, prompting Claude to reply.

“Madame, you needn’t concern yourself with someone like me. Please enjoy the company of those who suit you.”

His stiff tone made Madame Chalet burst into laughter.

“There’s no need to be so wary of me. I’m also subtly ostracized here. As a fallen noble, I should consider it an honor to even be invited to such a gathering. You and I are in similar situations, Sergeant. Ah, try this champagne.”

Madame Chalet picked up two glasses of champagne that a passing servant was carrying. She handed one to Claude.

“It’s top-quality Chardonnay from last year. You’d be missing out if you didn’t try it. I just heard about it from Madame la Marquise de Bonal, you see. Hehe.”

Claude held the glass but didn’t drink. He had his superior’s permission to drink today, but he wanted to make it clear that he was only here to fulfill his duty. If even this small role was taken away, he would have no reason to stand by Yves’s side.

In contrast, Madame Chalet boldly quenched her thirst with the champagne. Come to think of it, she was drinking the same thing when they first met.

“You seem to enjoy wine.”

“Yes. My family’s estate has operated vineyards for generations. We leased over a hundred leagues of land to small farmers and received 30% of the harvest as tax. It was practically giving it away. It’s all in the past now, though.”

“Your estate was confiscated?”

“That’s right. But the grapes still grow on that land. And the people who farmed the land are still there. Only now, they don’t pay taxes to the landowner. The foolish landowners who trusted the people were beheaded and buried deep in the farm. New grape varieties grow on top of them now.”

She spoke of her family history casually.

“My condolences to your family. The Senate passed the Property Restitution Act earlier this year, so you should be able to reclaim your land soon.”

“Oh my, you have quite open-minded thinking. It sounds like you don’t mind that the bill passed, even though you’re a commoner. Do you support the Villèle cabinet?”

Madame Chalet looked at Claude with great interest.

“I’m just a soldier, so I don’t have any political opinions. I’m simply stating that there’s a high probability of the bill passing in the House of Representatives as well, objectively speaking.”

“Political neutrality, is it? Or is it loyalty to the master you serve?”

Claude remained silent at her provocative question. Madame Chalet, seemingly pleased with the conversation, continued her monologue as she drank the rest of her champagne.

“When I turned twenty, my aunt introduced me to a wealthy merchant. He wanted to marry me, so we met twice and decided to get married. I had no money, and he wanted to elevate his status. Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack the year after we married. Thanks to him, I have a house, but he died without receiving a title, so it was a losing deal, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t know one could receive a title just by marrying a noble.”

“Of course not. But you can be invited to gatherings like this. By mingling with influential people like this, it would be easy to obtain the rank of baron. In a country where a commoner became emperor, anything is possible. Hehe. What do you think, Sergeant? Are you interested?”

Madame Chalet looked at Claude with expectant eyes. She seemed to see through his thoughts, observing and gauging his reactions. She looked as if she knew exactly what irreverent thoughts he harbored.

“I’m content with my current position.”

Hearing his answer, she smiled and raised her glass.

“Yes. That’s good. That look suits you better for now. Here’s to your loyalty, Sergeant.”

Then, after drinking all the remaining champagne, she smiled and left. Claude felt uneasy watching her go.

What was she up to?

She was beautiful, but her laughter always had an unpleasant edge to it.

He knew that Yves had been attending gatherings with her occasionally since they met at the gambling den. He had once suggested that it would be best to keep his distance from her, but Yves had only rebuked him, telling him not to cross the line. Even Yves didn’t seem to particularly like her. He thought that the formalities of the aristocracy were troublesome in many ways.

Claude turned his gaze from Madame Chalet and looked straight ahead. He suddenly realized that Yves had disappeared from the crowd.

Startled, Claude quickly looked around. He swiftly scanned the people, searching for his master, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to move, feeling uneasy, Yves’s voice came from beside him.

“Where are you going? Are you bored?”

He gripped Claude’s shoulder.

“No, but are you alright?”

Yves swayed slightly, leaning on Claude for support. He was usually a strong drinker, but today he seemed to lack energy.

“Ah, I seem to be a bit drunk. It’s strange, I didn’t drink that much.”

“You’ve been overdoing it lately.”

“True. The priest said that if you let alcohol accumulate in your body, you get tired easily.”

“I think that’s sound advice. You should take it easy.”

At Claude’s serious reply, Yves chuckled. He joked that it sounded like a threat disguised as a request, and Claude immediately apologized for his presumption.

“Forget it, just stay close.”

Yves patted Claude’s shoulder and rejoined the crowd. Claude, staring after him, instinctively brushed his hand over his own shoulder where Yves had touched him. He was immensely pleased by the command to stay close. It felt like he could easily endure another hour or two thanks to those words. The soirée continued tirelessly for a long time.

An hour later, many drunken guests appeared, and the atmosphere became boisterous. Claude had been watching Yves, who had been repeatedly touching his forehead. He wanted to ask if he was alright, but with so many people crowding around him, he couldn’t approach easily.

The life in Yves’s eyes was fading. He seemed thirsty, drinking water repeatedly and letting out short breaths. He held on for about ten more minutes before lying down on a nearby sofa. Yves, opening his eyes with a deep breath, beckoned to his adjutant who was watching him. Claude approached immediately, as if waiting for the summons.

“Captain.”

“This is strange. I… I can’t seem to control my body.”

Yves’s voice was low and strained.

“How about returning to the mansion first? I’ll tell the coachman to prepare.”

“Mother needs the carriage to return, so that would be difficult.”

He seemed unconcerned about his father, who had come with them, only worried about the Countess’s well-being. He then frowned, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he was feeling worse.

“In this state, it would be difficult for me to even escort you on horseback. It would be best to hire a carriage.”

Yves nodded, and Claude immediately sought out a servant of the mansion. A butler in formal attire approached him.

“Is there anything you need?”

“Captain Perrier seems quite intoxicated, so we’ll be returning first. We need a carriage; would it be possible to hire one?”

“Ah, actually, we had a few on standby, but there’s a problem with the wheels… I can send someone to call a hired carriage, but it will take some time since it’s a suburban area.”

Damn it.

Claude bit his lip. Count Perrier had long since disappeared from the ballroom. Those who were drinking with him were also nowhere to be seen, suggesting they were likely having an important conversation in some other closed-off space.

“Please call one anyway, even if it takes time. I’ll stay by his side until then.”

The butler nodded and hurried away, and Claude turned back to Yves. He was now sweating profusely.

Strange. For someone drunk, his breathing is excessively fast and labored, isn’t it?

Just then, Madame Chalet, spotting them from afar, approached with Madame la Marquise de Bonal.

“Oh my, the Captain doesn’t look well. Is he a weak drinker?”

“No. I believe he’s unwell, and the alcohol has exacerbated it.”

Madame Chalet’s fussing tone, as if she had been waiting for this, grated on Claude’s nerves. He took a step closer, shielding Yves, who had collapsed on the sofa. Madame la Marquise de Bonal looked at Yves with concern.

“It would be best for him to return early. I’ll have a carriage called. Jeanne, call Xavier.”

“I’ve already requested a carriage, but they said it would take some time.”

“Yes, there was some commotion in the stables. Someone sabotaged the hitches of the prepared carriages, so they’re being repaired.”

At that moment, Madame Chalet interjected.

“Then, why not have him rest in a room? There are many eyes here.”

“That’s a good idea. Let’s do that. There are guest rooms at the end of the left corridor on the first floor. It would be best for him to wait there until the carriage arrives. Let me see, Jeanne!”

As the Marquise called for a servant to show them the room, Claude waved his hand.

“No, I’ll escort him myself. Just tell me where it is.”

“It’s the blue room. Across from the hallway with Henry IV’s portrait. I’ll send someone to let you know when the carriage arrives, so rest there until then. Oh, but who are you…?”

Only then did she wonder about the identity of this tall soldier.

“Veil.”

“You’re Captain Perrier’s non-commissioned officer.”

Madame Chalet interjected again. The Marquise’s expression subtly shifted after hearing the commoner’s name without a noble title attached.

Tonight was a large-scale event, with representatives and cabinet ministers gathered. She had been running around, unable to leave everything to the servants, and had ended up giving excessive attention to someone like this. She should have had Xavier deal with him from the beginning.

“Very well.”

Claude bowed to the Marquise, who remained silent with pursed lips, and helped Yves up. As he tried to embrace him a bit too closely, Yves chided him in a weak voice.

“Are you planning to carry me? Sigh… I’m not dead yet, so take it easy.”

“I’m glad. Seeing that you still have the strength to scold me, I believe you can endure for another hour or so. Lean on me this way.”

Claude placed Yves’s hand on his shoulder and led him into the room the Marquise had indicated. He laid Yves on the bed in the darkened room and opened the curtains to let in the moonlight. Yves let out a deep breath on the bed, seemingly relieved to be lying down.

“Either the champagne was bad, or my mouth is rotten for not noticing. Damn it, my head is spinning. Did you drink, Adjutant?”

“I didn’t touch a drop.”

“That’s good. At least one of us is alright. There’s no need to tell Mother. We’ll return together when the carriage arrives.”

Claude approached and touched Yves’s forehead. He didn’t seem to have a fever. If the champagne was bad, as he suggested, the other guests should also be ill. Then was he really just drunk? No. As someone who had been observing Yves all evening, that hypothesis wasn’t convincing.

“Did you perhaps eat something strange?”

“I had some steamed trout, quail eggs, and snail escargot. Sigh… If the food was the problem, Admiral Rooney should be lying dead by now.”

Yves loosened his cravat and shifted slightly, as if feeling uncomfortable. He frowned, his eyes repeatedly closing.

“I’m very sleepy. This doesn’t feel right. Someone must have played a trick.”

“Have you made any enemies lately?”

“Well… so many. Recently, one of my adjutants made a presumptuous confession. I rejected him outright, but he’s bigger than me, so I’m afraid of what he might do.”

Claude, who had been listening seriously, realizing that Yves was talking about him, laughed emptily. The atmosphere softened a bit. Yves seemed to be trying to keep talking to stay conscious. Noticing this, Claude played along.

“Is my affection burdensome?”

“Not really. I thought it would be annoying, but unlike the others, you seem to know your place, so I haven’t felt the need to dismiss you yet. Sigh… It probably won’t last long anyway.”

“Is that so?”

Claude sat down next to Yves with a bitter smile. Looking down at the half-closed eyes, he said,

“You think I’ll give up easily.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t into this sort of thing?”

He seemed to remember what Michel had said, waving his hands defensively. Claude also recalled that moment and rubbed his chin.

“That was then.”

“Innate tendencies don’t change so easily. Tell me. With your looks, Adjutant, you wouldn’t have lacked for attention. Honestly, haven’t you had many women after you?”

“Would you be jealous if I said yes?”

“Jealous? Don’t be absurd.”

Yves closed his eyes, putting a hand to his forehead as if annoyed. Yet he turned his face slightly towards Claude, as if waiting for a response.

“I’m not sure if I was popular with women my age. But when my father passed away and I was struggling, I received a lot of help from those around me. Most of them were widows with children. So, I thought I might be popular with older women, but these days, I don’t think that’s the case either.”

“You must have been tall even as a child.”

“I was often mistaken for an adult.”

“Come to think of it, how old are you? Twenty-three or twenty-four now?”

“Twenty-four. Two years younger than you, Captain.”

“Ah, so that’s why.”

Yves finally understood what Claude meant by saying he wasn’t popular with older women anymore. It seemed he already knew Claude’s age.

But he had reached his limit. Yves, his mind hazy, turned his head the other way, no longer able to maintain consciousness. His voice drifted out between his parted lips, slurred with sleep.

“I’m so sleepy. This really isn’t… a normal… reaction.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

“Alright… that’s good. Mother was wise…”

Yves finally succumbed to his drowsiness and fell asleep, seemingly losing consciousness. Claude remained still, watching over him for a while.

After confirming that Yves was sound asleep, Claude quietly got up, opened the door, and checked outside. Darkness had fallen, and the sparsely lit candles in the hallway provided just enough light to see. The sound of laughter drifted from the distant ballroom.

Thud.

A suspicious sound came from near the window in the room. Claude quickly turned and went towards the source of the noise. He checked the curtains and the floor, but there was nothing.

Did I hear things?

With a sense of foreboding, he approached Yves, but he was still asleep. He looked utterly peaceful, as if entrusting everything to Claude.

He said he was worried about what his confessing adjutant might do, yet he’s sleeping so soundly.

Claude smiled faintly, remembering Yves’s joke.

He stood there for a moment, admiring Yves. Unlike how he looked from the other side, the moonlight streaming in from the window clearly illuminated his face. Perfectly symmetrical eyebrows and eyes, a finely sculpted nose, and lips shadowed with depth. His neck and chest were tantalizingly revealed with each breath he took, through the slightly loosened collar.

Claude’s smile turned slightly bitter. He slowly adjusted Yves’s clothes and stroked his hair with a touch of regret. Then, he gently caressed Yves’s still face, his nose and lips. He could touch, but not possess.

Thud.

The sound came again. Claude reflexively turned and quickly approached the window. This time, he caught the culprit. It was a bat. He didn’t know where it had come from, but its wing was caught in the window frame, and it was struggling. Even with the forest nearby, why would there be a bat in a mansion like this?

Puzzled, Claude opened the window. The fluttering creature quickly flew away into the forest.

As Claude stared after it, someone approached him from behind. He sensed the presence and turned around, but the intruder was faster. Emerging from the darkness, the figure covered Claude’s nose and mouth with a handkerchief. The strong chemical smell instantly plunged Claude into darkness.

With a thud, Claude collapsed to the floor. Two more intruders emerged from the shadows.

“Oh my, our sergeant is quite the romantic. Even I felt touched listening to that.”

“They talked for quite a while. I was told that if we put them in a room together, things would happen naturally, but what’s this? This one didn’t even lay a finger on him.”

“Pfft, what else? Make it look like he did. Here, lift his head. Ralph, what are you doing? Help me.”

The two men carried the unconscious Claude onto the bed. Then, the woman who had been giving instructions approached and began to undress him. Under the worn but well-maintained uniform was a shirt, cleanly washed with lye. As she removed his upper garments, an unsightly scar on his side became visible.

“My, that must have hurt quite a bit when it was treated. The stitching is terrible.”

“Are you playing doctor? Stop with the amateur observations and take off his pants.”

“Should we take this off too?”

The other man, watching, reached for Yves’s shirt, finding his own task.

“Just loosen it a bit. Hehe. We should at least protect our Captain’s honor.”

“Wow, this one is incredibly well-endowed. I want to cut it off and take it to my lab.”

The man taking off Claude’s pants muttered to himself. The woman rebuked him in a disinterested tone.

“Ralph, please stop with the nonsense and get to work. Someone might come in. The Marquis de Bonal’s butler is quite diligent. He might have already called the carriage.”

At her words, the two men moved quickly. Yves and Claude, now half-naked, were positioned on the bed, their bodies intertwined. The intruders covered their lower bodies with a sheet and left the door slightly ajar. Then they slipped out of the room through a different passage, unnoticed.

The soirée was still in full swing. Contrary to the woman’s worries, the mansion’s butler, Xavier, had forgotten about Claude and Yves for a long time. Only after the waiting hired carriage driver complained to several servants did he hurry to the guest room. He knocked on the door, but there was no response after three attempts.

He knew it was rude, but what choice did he have? Carefully opening the door to check inside, he was so shocked that he quickly slammed it shut.

Oh dear… This is troublesome.

Rolling his eyes with his back to the door, he immediately ran to Madame la Marquise de Bonal. There was only one witness, but traces of the scandalous lovemaking spread like wildfire among the guests that night.

✧ ✧ ✧

Slap-

A sharp sound echoed in the quiet room. Yves turned his head, holding his reddened cheek. Count Perrier’s right hand, which had struck him, was still trembling.

“Do you know what kind of event that was, and you dare…”

The Count couldn’t contain his rage.

“To disgrace us in such a way… how could you humiliate the family like that! Were you trying to drive me to death with shame? Have you gone mad, blinded by lust?”

The Count’s voice was filled with fury, almost metallic. His left hand, gripping his cane, trembled, and his posture wavered. Yves instinctively reached out to support him.

“I understand you’re angry, but please sit down and talk. You’ll collapse at this rate.”

“You impudent wretch, you dare to worry about me collapsing? If you have a mouth, at least try to explain yourself.”

Yves withdrew his hand from the Count’s body with a bitter expression.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“What?”

“Even if I told you the truth, would you believe me? Nothing happened between Claude and me. It’s true that I lost consciousness from drowsiness, but he didn’t touch me. He was only trying to help.”

A fire sparked in Yves’s eyes once more. This time, he was struck on the other cheek.

“You foolish boy! I suspected there was something special about the way you treated that sergeant, but I didn’t imagine it would be like this. Even a wastrel like you has immense pride as a soldier, so I thought you wouldn’t get involved with your subordinate. But now you’re defending him so openly in front of me!”

Yves silently touched his split lip and wiped away the blood.

“Do you have any idea how many people saw that lowly man take you to a room? Madame la Marquise de Bonal herself witnessed the two of you rolling around naked. And you think such an excuse will work?”

“Ha…”

An empty laugh escaped him. Of course, everything his father said was true. Claude had helped him, suffering from a severe headache, to the room, and when he woke up, both of their clothes were disheveled. It was a situation that anyone would misunderstand, and Yves himself was confused. He had clearly fallen into a well-laid trap. Even his own family didn’t believe him, so who would believe his innocence?

Yves scoffed, rubbing his stinging cheek.

I wouldn’t feel so wronged if we had actually been rolling around.

Even in this situation, he was almost moved to tears by Claude’s loyalty in not touching him.

“If you won’t believe me anyway, just get angry. I’ll let you hit me until you feel better. But the truth won’t change. Claude and I are not what you think, Father.”

“The truth doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what you did with him. No one cares anymore. You’ve already become a laughingstock; all that’s left is to be chewed up and spat out. Do you have any idea how much cleaning up I have to do after you? If you feel wronged, throw him in the brig yourself. Say he drugged you and took advantage of you, and take care of the situation yourself!”

“Didn’t I tell you he did nothing wrong? And drugged me? My pride won’t allow that.”

“Insolent fool! You still haven’t come to your senses!”

Thwack-

Unable to hold back, the Count struck Yves on the head. He raised his cane as if to inflict further violence. At that moment, the Countess rushed in and grabbed his arm.

“Calm down. You’ll really cause an accident. Yves, go to your room. Let’s stop here for today and talk later.”

“Even now, you try to maintain your pride as a man! I’ve overlooked your behavior all this time. I let you live as you pleased because you made a promise to me. But you’ve gone and made a mess of things!”

“Stop talking and sit down. You’ll have a heart attack.”

Though restrained by the Countess, he continued, pointing his cane at Yves.

“Not only is he a dark-haired man, but he’s also your subordinate…!”

“How many times do I have to tell you nothing happened?”

“Who would believe you! If your usual behavior had been proper, I might have at least considered it. This is all your fault, so no one will believe you even if you complain of being wronged.”

“……”

Yves, speechless, turned his head.

“Stay home and reflect until the rumors die down. If I hear that you’ve been seen in Paris, I’ll strip you of all your ranks. The inheritance and property that are supposed to be yours will disappear as well, so keep that in mind!”

The Count, trembling with rage, sat down on the sofa with the Countess’s help. His piercing eyes were still fixed on his son.

“You good-for-nothing, ungrateful wretch…”

His words seemed to provoke Yves, who grimaced and sneered,

“Didn’t you know? I’m the most abnormal child you’ve ever had. I might even commit worse acts of disobedience than my sister.”

“Shut your mouth!”

A metallic edge returned to the Count’s voice, which had grown even more heated. Yves, refusing to yield, didn’t back down.

“If you strip me of my rank because of this, I’ll send a special edition to Minerva. That the eldest daughter of the Perrier family was actually pregnant with a commoner’s child…”

Crash!

With an earsplitting sound, glass shattered. The Count, filled with furious rage, had thrown the vase on the coffee table at Yves. Blood trickled from his cheek where a glass shard had grazed him.

“I told you never to speak of that again!”

“It’s no use getting angry at me. It’s not my fault your daughter fell in love with the nanny’s son.”

This time, the Countess reprimanded him, as if he had crossed a line.

“Yves, enough! I can’t understand why you’re making things worse instead of apologizing. Don’t you understand? This is entirely your fault for not behaving properly. Oh, no. Yes, it’s all my fault. I didn’t know what kind of person he was, and I let him into the ballroom. It’s all my fault for my poor judgment.”

“Mother.”

Yves started to speak but bit his lip. Seeing that even the Countess, the only one who had been kind to Claude, had turned against him, he felt that further explanations were useless.

His father was right. The misunderstanding had already occurred, and the truth didn’t matter.

Silence fell over the room. In the room filled with the remnants of the broken vase and simmering anger, the strangely patched-together family remained silent, each clinging to their own justifications. The servants outside, pacing anxiously, also held their breath.

What a ridiculous farce!

Yves felt unbearable self-pity. If this was someone’s prank, it was excessive; if it was a deliberate trap, he had fallen into it perfectly. He had several suspects, but no proof.

What was their purpose? Humiliation? Or house arrest? If it was the latter, they had succeeded brilliantly. With his father in such a state, he wouldn’t be able to leave the vicinity of the Nanterre estate for a while.

Slam.

Yves threw open the door and stormed out. The servants, who had been watching nervously, quickly scattered. Yves, mocking himself for becoming a laughingstock even to the servants, went up to the second floor. What good were his nobility and his officer rank? He was still in a position to lose everything with a single word from his father.

Everything he had considered his own achievements was still merely the fruit of his family’s influence. Things that could be trampled upon and discarded at any moment. The name ‘Yves’ held no power, but ‘de Perrier’ carried immense weight. It was most shameful that he still needed that influence.

A few days later, Yves received a written notice granting him leave he hadn’t requested. A month-long leave. Count Perrier must have pulled some strings. Since there was no other option, Yves decided to seclude himself for a month. He even felt a strange sense of anticipation to see how his esteemed father would handle this embarrassing rumor.

What kind of excuse did he give to the other prominent figures who were there?

It wouldn’t be easy to simply change the story and say they had seen things wrong in the dim light. He was in subtle competition with the Marquis de Bonal, so he would have demanded a hefty price in exchange for keeping quiet. It was pathetic that Yves himself had provided such an opportunity.

Claude didn’t visit. Or perhaps he had, but was turned away. No one in this mansion would welcome him now. It had been a place he frequented like his own home for a while, but now he might get shot if he caught his father’s eye.

Whatever. He wasn’t in a position to worry about Claude’s situation now. Yves partly agreed with his father. Given his usual behavior, he had no right to complain. It was best to wait until the rumors subsided.

Now Yves thought about the culprit. It was Madame Chalet who had persistently offered him champagne, and the Duke of Angoulême who had suggested the food. It was highly unlikely that his former superior officer held a grudge against him, so suspicion naturally fell on Madame Chalet.

Was it because he was suspected of granting Simon the mercy of death? Even if that were the case, he couldn’t act rashly now. Suddenly cutting off contact with them would be tantamount to admitting he was a spy. He was in a bind.

Yves lit a cigarette in bed and inhaled the smoke. Since things had turned out this way, it wouldn’t be bad to enjoy a leisurely vacation. Since he wasn’t going to work, Claude would also have some free time for a while. What would he be doing now? He felt a strange emptiness with the absence of the person who had constantly been by his side.

I hope no unnecessary sparks fly…

To quell this incident, he would have to change the story to say Claude wasn’t involved. It was an incident of guilt by association, so his father would have had no choice. Yves decided to keep quiet for the time being so as not to provoke his father further.

First, he wrote a letter to Louis Thiers. He could have Jacques deliver it to Madame Phia. The letter explained that his plans would be delayed since he would be confined for a while.

Then, he instructed Madame Evermonde to prepare his bath. He asked for lunch to be brought to his room and instructed that no one disturb him as he intended to nap all afternoon.

He planned to shut himself in his study starting tomorrow. How many cigarettes did he have left? Yves headed to the drawing-room to check the box. His time was passing slowly.

✧ ✧ ✧

A month after the incident, a small commotion occurred in the French Guard at the Mars barracks. Claude, visiting the 3rd Battalion barracks early in the morning, saw the dumbfounded expressions of his fellow soldiers, who seemed unable to believe his words.

“Why are you all reacting like this?”

Claude waited for a moment, one hand on his hip. After a short pause, everyone began to speak at once, as if rehearsed.

“What? Wait. Sergeant. What do you mean you’re quitting? You’re quitting the army altogether?”

“What happened all of a sudden? Were you fired?”

Claude shrugged in response to the soldiers crowding around him, buzzing with questions.

“Well, you could say that.”

His answer intensified the reactions around him.

“Fired? Why? Did you cause trouble?”

“What trouble could the Sergeant have caused? Did that Captain fire you?”

“I heard he’s returning from leave today. Did you perhaps misunderstand the order to return to the officer’s quarters?”

The busybodies were talkative. Claude put down his duffel bag and replied.

“I’m quitting on my own accord, so don’t misunderstand. And what do you mean ‘that Captain’? Watch your language.”

“Well, shit… who cares when he’s not here? Why are you doing this? Were you really fired?”

“You said the army was your calling, so something must have happened.”

“Well, it’s a combination of things. I’d rather you didn’t pry too deeply.”

Claude looked troubled by the endless questions. However, his fellow soldiers showed no signs of backing down. It seemed he would have to come up with some excuse.

“It’s nothing. My sister’s health is declining, so I’m moving to the countryside where the air is fresh.”

Yet the suspicious looks persisted. He had no choice but to offer another excuse.

“Actually, I don’t think this officer-NCO thing suits me.”

Finally, everyone seemed to understand.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Serving those nobles, it gets old. I understand.”