YLSB Chapter 3

 

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[With only six months remaining in the Minister of Justice’s term, attention is increasingly focused on Director Saint Campbell.

 

In response, Director Campbell dismissed questions about the ministerial appointment, stating that as the head of the police, he would not neglect his duties and responsibilities and intended to end his term on a high note…]  

 

Clutching a rolled-up newspaper in one hand, Casling briskly walked through the main gate of the Robert estate. 

 

He had stepped away from a field inspection and, instead of returning to headquarters, had taken a detour—all because of a conversation he had overheard at a colleague’s engagement party the night before.  

 

‘The atmosphere was absolutely tense—like they were about to snap.’  

 

‘Tense? They were smiling politely the whole time. They must’ve been discussing marriage.’  

 

‘So, is Eric Robert going to become Director Campbell’s son-in-law?’  

 

‘No way. They looked like they wanted to tear each other apart. As if Eric Robert would marry the daughter of a man he considers an enemy. His brother died, and his name was left in disgrace. If Director Campbell hadn’t dug into Albert Robert’s alleged corruption, would he have ended up dead?’  

 

‘But that was just a traffic accident. The whole family died.’  

 

‘Exactly. Wouldn’t that make him seethe even more?’  

 

‘Director Campbell, on the other hand, is on the verge of climbing the social ladder. He’d never accept a son-in-law with baggage. What’s the point of being the Robert heir if he can’t secure the family line?’  

 

Brilliant. Just brilliant.  

 

He had even stopped Eric before he left for Rioven, sternly warning him not to cause trouble—only to get so caught up in court affairs after the royal banquet that she’d completely forgotten.  

 

Now, seeing no attendants at the estate entrance, the hallway, or outside the office, it was clear something had gone wrong.  

 

No doubt, John was running around behind the scenes, cleaning up another mess as usual.  

Clicking her tongue, Casling pushed open the office door. 

 

The first thing that caught his eye, absurdly, was a paper airplane floating in the air. No—to be precise, it was Campbell’s face flying across the room.  

 

Thud—  

 

Picking up the paper airplane that had landed behind her, Casling let out a dry laugh. The face folded in half on the paper was identical to the one in the newspaper he was holding.  

 

“How childish.”  

 

He set the hybrid paper airplane-newspaper on the desk with a disapproving sigh.  

 

“Aren’t all nobles childish by nature?”  

 

“Then you should’ve restrained yourself at the royal banquet instead of resorting to throwing paper airplanes like this. Do you even know what rumors are spreading?”  

 

“If it’s the rumor that I rejected Rebecca, then I welcome it.”  

 

“Do you even have a brain, Eric Robert? I told you before I left—you can’t afford to make an enemy of Director Campbell anymore.”  

 

“He started it. I just retaliated. What’s the legal term for that again? Ah, right—self-defense.”  

 

“Don’t taint sacred legal terminology. Just explain what happened.”  

 

“Then will you put me on trial?”  

 

“Only if you’ve committed a crime beyond just provoking Eric Robert’s temper.”  

 

At Casling’s cold reply, Eric turned his head away in displeasure. No doubt another lecture was coming.  

 

“The Director is just doing his job. To some, he’s a hero; to others, he’s the enemy. That’s how things work here. No matter how much it irks you, you can’t fault him for exposing aristocratic corruption.”  

 

“I had no idea Judge Heringberg had graced my office. So, where’s my friend gone?”  

 

Eric whistled and glanced around, but his theatrics were short-lived. When his eyes met Casling’s—standing firm with her arms crossed—he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and attempted an explanation.  

 

“If this is about gang fights, it’s disgusting. Director Campbell is egging it on. Is that really just a sense of duty? From what I saw, his whole face was plastered with greed.”  

 

“That’s bias.”  

 

“Bias or not, does a family heir have to act solely for justice and righteousness? You chase objective truth—that’s your job. I’ll stick to my personal feelings. Besides, that bastard hates me, too. Isn’t it great that we’re on the same page?”  

 

“That’s because of what you did to Rebecca.”  

 

“Ugh, Rebecca again.”

 

Eric flicked the paper airplane on his desk back into the air and muttered under his breath.  

 

The so-called Rebecca Humiliation Incident.  

 

It was the incident at a grand ball, attended by high society, where Eric Robert had gagged at Rebecca Campbell’s face. 

 

Defending this absurd incident by claiming Eric had a cat hair allergy—that it wasn’t a gag but a cough—was nothing but sophistry. 

 

And the exaggerated chatter, calling it a political maneuver or a declaration of war against the Director, was pure overreach.  

 

She was just disgusting. Caked-on makeup and perfume poured over her from head to toe. 

 

When Rebecca Campbell spotted him and cut through the crowd without hesitation, Eric instinctively stepped back. 

 

It was to maintain a bare minimum of personal space, but Rebecca lightly crossed that line.  

 

‘Hello, Lord Eric Robert.’

 

His gag reflex was faster than his hand reaching for a handkerchief. 

 

As her face, red as a ripe tomato, brushed past him, Eric considered himself lucky he hadn’t actually vomited.  

 

“She was the first woman I couldn’t stand for even three seconds. And now I’m supposed to marry her? Only a madman would.”  

 

“High society must be mad. Pairing you with Rebecca after seeing that spectacle. So, did you outright reject Director Campbell?”  

 

“No. I remembered your advice and declined… politely.”  

 

“Did you sweeten it with some nonsense about his daughter being too beautiful to dare covet?”  

 

“Of course not. I told him I was already engaged.”  

 

The sudden word made Casling recoil.  

 

“Engaged? You’re engaged?”  

 

“About to be.”  

 

“To whom?”  

 

“One of the women John picked. Ah, here he comes.”  

 

Eric jerked his chin toward John, who had just opened the office door and entered. 

 

John approached the desk and held out an envelope in his hand. Eric took it, turned it upside down, and shook out the contents. 

 

Papers with profiles of women and their portraits spilled out.  

 

John began his briefing.  

 

“The first candidate is Miss Laura Martizen. The daughter of Viscount Franz Martizen, she entered high society last year. A naive young lady who knows nothing of the world. She has no close acquaintances, and her only hobbies are flower arranging and knitting.”  

 

“What are you doing right now?”  

 

“I may have fibbed about being engaged. This is damage control.”  

 

“Sigh.”  

 

Casling let out a hollow laugh and flopped onto the sofa.

 

Eric Robert always caused trouble in the most unexpected ways. Theft, robbery, fraud crimes—compared to those, this was a relatively minor incident. But then again, he was the son of the Chief Justice, so perhaps that explained it.  

 

Now, as a friend, the task wasn’t to scold him but to supplement the information he had.  

 

“Marquis Martizen doted on his daughter, who was past forty, as if she were a rare treasure. Two months ago, Marco—known as a womanizer—had his leg broken and was put in a cast. Rumor has it the Marquis was behind it. Apparently, he beat him without mercy after hearing he’d harassed his daughter.”  

 

Eric gave a brief response to the dry explanation.  

 

“Next.”  

 

John cleared his throat awkwardly and flipped the page.  

 

“The second candidate is Miss Karin Burns. She’s the daughter of Klont Burns, the CEO of a shipping company. She inherited her father’s personality—open-minded and bold. Likewise, she enjoys liberated relationships and has been the subject of several scandals, but there are no major issues.”  

 

In other words, she was highly likely to accept a fake engagement proposal.  

 

Eric was intrigued.  

 

“I heard she plans to leave the Kingdom of Vincen soon? She’s been spouting some fairy-tale story about her dream of traveling the world, but in reality, she’s going abroad to meet her lover and their daughter.”  

 

Casling cut in.  

 

“Stop talking nonsense.”  

 

“When you work in the courts, you hear all sorts of wild and shocking stories.”  

 

Eric shot his friend a sidelong glance before shaking his head.  

 

“My apologies, Master. The third candidate is Miss Isabel Witter.”  

 

“She’s a perfume enthusiast.”  

 

“Next.”  

 

There was no need to hear more. John’s voice grew slightly more solemn as he gripped the last page.  

 

“The final candidate is Miss Olivia Bennet. She is the second daughter of Benjamin Bennet, a barrister and baron, and is currently working as a temporary teacher at Benedict School.”  

 

A teacher? A woman with a profession—how unusual.  

 

Eric peeled off the small piece of paper attached to the back of the document. It was a rough sketch on a palm-sized sheet. 

 

The portraits of the other three candidates were properly commissioned from local artists, so they were well-polished. But the last candidate’s drawing could hardly be called a portrait. 

 

As Eric studied the paper closely, John added,  

 

“There were no painters who knew her face, so we asked a fellow teacher to sketch it.”  

 

Since she was the last candidate, if there were no disqualifying factors, she would be the one to become his fiancée.  

 

“That Olivia Bennet?”  

 

“You know her?”  

 

“Of course I do. Baron Bennet’s adopted daughter. John, I assume you have more to report.”

 

At Eric’s glance, John spoke again.  

 

“The detailed adoption process isn’t widely known, but from what we’ve gathered, the child lost their memory in an accident nine years ago when the carriage of the viscount and his wife hit them. The couple then adopted the child.”  

 

Adoption. So, a half-noble, then?  

 

It didn’t entirely dispel Campbell’s doubts, but it perfectly fit the condition of leaving no loose ends.  

 

Eric stared intently at the face that hovered ambiguously between beautiful and not quite beautiful. 

 

Considering it was the work of an ordinary person, perhaps the looks were something to appreciate. Then again, that hardly mattered.  

 

“Who would’ve thought I’d see the famous Miss Bennet as Eric’s fiancée?”  

 

“Famous?”  

 

“Not quite on par with Eric Robert, but she’s often talked about in gossip-loving social circles. And she hasn’t even made her debut yet.”  

 

It wasn’t uncommon for prestigious families to adopt sons, but taking in a complete stranger—not even a cousin—as an adopted daughter was rare. 

 

People had plenty to say about the mysterious origins of this adopted girl. 

 

Some claimed she was from the slums, others said an orphanage, and there were even whispers that she must be an illegitimate child—after all, the Great family wouldn’t bring in someone with no background.  

 

For a while, high society was abuzz with the story, but the focus shifted when Viscount Bennet’s business collapsed. 

 

Contrary to everyone’s expectations, there was no disownment. 

 

The viscount managed a comeback, transitioning from businessman to lawyer, and his biological daughter, who had been struggling, made her social debut and promptly secured a marriage. 

 

That was when rumors started circulating that the adopted daughter was a spirit-blessed being.  

 

“Those people’s tongues are lighter than birds’ wings. What’s the point, anyway?”