Chapter 2

— [Count Ravenwell deceased abroad. Observe mourning. Further details to follow by post.]

Everything had originated three months prior with that terse, unforgiving telegram.

The abrupt tidings from overseas had plunged the House of Count Ravenwell into absolute shock. They had fretted, naturally, when the late patriarch’s final correspondence hinted at a failing constitution, but for the formal obituary to descend without affording them a solitary moment to steel themselves against the loss was a cruelty beyond measure.

Every soul in the manor, from the lowliest kitchen maids to Elwin’s tender younger sister, wept without restraint. Yet Elwin, who had revered and loved his father more than any other, could not summon a single tear. Before grief could even take root, a rigid, icy tension had already ascended the length of his spine.

Elwin pushed up his delicate, gold-rimmed spectacles and exhaled a quiet sigh. “…That means the estate and title will pass to the branch family.”

Beside him, Toby bristled with even greater indignation. “Young Master, how can such an injustice be permitted? How can they set aside a perfectly healthy heir like yourself and drag in some stranger from the branch family?”

“Because that is the law,” Elwin replied, his tone laced with the biting frost of reality. “If I fly into a rage every time I am disadvantaged for being born an Omega, I will only exhaust my own strength to no purpose.”

At those words, the white-haired old butler, Alfred, began to sniffle into his handkerchief. “Ah, poor Young Master! This is precisely why a reliable mate should have been secured for you long ago. How could the late count leave his young children behind, journey to that distant continent, and allow matters to decline to this tragic state?”

“Do not speak so, Alfred. This was inevitable.”

With Elwin presenting as an Omega and his only sibling being a younger sister, the Ravenwell title and lands were legally destined to pass eventually to the branch family, which boasted two robust Alpha sons.

In such a desperate predicament, any ordinary nobleman would have expended every ounce of energy to debut his child in high society and secure a strategic marriage match. The late count, however, had always respected Elwin’s quiet wish to live among his books and scholarly research rather than inside the superficial warmth of parties and salons.

When Elwin’s aspirations of entering university were dashed—for regrettably, no academic institution accepted Omegas—his father had launched an overseas venture to generate as much liquid capital as possible to secure under Elwin’s name.

Developing mines on the southern continent across the vast sea was a promising endeavor, but it demanded immense initial capital. Even after exhausting all of the household’s surplus funds, it was still not enough. Consequently, Elwin had managed the estate with utmost frugality, slashing expenses wherever possible, and sending every spare penny overseas month after month.

Alfred dabbed at his watery eyes. “Forgive my rudeness, Young Master. But… why now, of all times?”

“There is never a good time to die, but as you say, the timing is disastrous.”

They had poured their fortunes to the absolute limit, reducing themselves to near penury. The future of the mining business, which was supposed to begin yielding profits shortly, was now shrouded in uncertainty. Most dire of all, Elwin and his younger sister now faced the very real threat of being cast out onto the street.

“I understand your anxiety,” Elwin murmured. “But tell me, Alfred—should we simply vacate the manor the moment the heir arrives?”

“It is customary to allow the bereaved family to remain during the mourning period,” Alfred replied, smoothing a hand over his wrinkled brow. “If the branch family possesses any shred of humanity, they may grant us a little more time. Though how much is anyone’s guess.”

A standard mourning period for a parent typically lasted between six months and a year. Initially, Elwin believed he had some breathing room to find a solution. Yet the days evaporated far faster than he had anticipated.

Receiving the documents and personal effects from overseas, arranging the funeral, and navigating the administrative maze took more than two months. Strangely, however, there was no word during that entire period from the House of Baron Graymont, the branch family set to inherit the estate.

Toby offered a hopeful guess, his voice rising with excitement. “We might be in luck, Young Master! Perhaps things are chaotic on their end as well, and they cannot afford to take on the count’s estate. I heard the baron is quite elderly, and his eldest son has been posted to an embassy abroad.”

But there was no noble house in the world that would reject a vast estate and a higher title. The very next day after Toby’s optimistic prediction, an official letter arrived from the baron’s household.

The second son of the branch family had been selected as the sole heir. On his way to the capital, he would stop by the Ravenwell estate, reside there for about a month, and inspect the lands.

So, it has finally come.

One week later—or rather, accounting for the letter’s transit time, five days later—the Ravenwell household was forced to receive the man who would soon become its master.

The reality of a new master struck the servants with profound weight, as their employment contracts would transfer along with the title. Yet not a single servant sought to curry favor with the incoming lord.

Instead, the entire household was plunged into deep mourning, and not merely out of loyalty to their late master. True to its reputation as an eccentric noble household, the House of Count Ravenwell treated its employees with extraordinary kindness, offering a free and generous working environment. The servants sincerely believed they would never find another workplace so benevolent in the entire kingdom.

The tenant farmers of the estate were equally grief-stricken. Once ownership of the land shifted, there was no chance the shockingly low rent rates would be maintained. Nor would they ever again find a landlord like Elwin, who personally brought them advanced farming tools and improved seedlings.

Toby’s eyes welled with tears the moment he heard the contents of the letter. “Young Master, is there truly no way? Everyone is in such a state, pleading for you not to leave. Could we not somehow petition them?”

Alfred clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Enough nonsense, Toby. How could the Young Master bow his head to the second son of a baron? Still, the second son, not even the eldest… I worry what will become of our late master’s dignity, Young Master.”

“There is nothing to be done, since their side has finalized the decision,” Elwin said, folding the letter with a crisp snap. “The document bears the baron’s signature, alongside papers confirming the matter has passed through their family council.”

Alfred asked cautiously, clutching at straws. “Then shall we send word to your maternal relatives? Surely the ducal house would not ignore a crisis of this magnitude.”

Elwin, however, had another aim in mind. “I am not so sure. We have, for all practical purposes, been estranged from my mother’s family for a very long time. More importantly, there is one viable way for me to remain here.”

Elwin possessed a remarkably keen intellect. Though not calculating by nature, he knew how to compute with clinical precision when backed into a corner. Before his wide-eyed butler and attendant, Elwin pushed up his spectacles with a sharp, decisive motion.

“In truth, I have considered several methods, but all of them cross into the realm of illegality. Only one legal avenue remains.”

“What… would that be?” Alfred asked, leaning in closer.

“I must marry Sir Dwight. If I can manage it.”

A massive exclamation mark seemed to hang over both their heads. The baron’s eldest son had already announced his engagement, but the second son remained unattached.

While it was highly unusual for the eldest son of a count’s house to become a countess instead of a count, legally and practically, it was a brilliant maneuver that could resolve their predicament perfectly.

The old butler immediately darted toward the ground floor. “I shall instruct the housekeeper to prepare for our guests with the absolute utmost care!”

In an instant, his perception of Dwight transformed from an invading usurper to a prime candidate for a bridegroom.

Toby, filled with newfound determination, ran about the nearby village, gathering every scrap of information regarding Dwight. As the two grew lively, the other servants, though kept in the dark about the specific details, took the hint and assumed their clever young master had devised a way to save them. With that, they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to preparing the manor.

Time marched on, and on the eve of Dwight’s arrival, even Elwin, for all his cleverness, could not suppress his mounting anxiety. Toby, who entered his chambers to assist with bed preparations, was bubble-wrapped in pure excitement, entirely oblivious to his master’s inner turmoil.

“It is finally tomorrow! You will surely receive a proposal within the month, Young Master!” Toby bounded across the room.

“If things go well, yes.” Elwin looked down at his slender hands. “But the true battle begins now. Can I actually pull this off?”

Toby blinked, startled by the sudden doubt. “You worry about things like that, Young Master?”

“Of course I do,” Elwin sighed softly. “I have hardly ever spoken to an unfamiliar Alpha. The thought that I must entice a man I am meeting for the very first time… honestly, I have no confidence. Besides, even among Alphas, there are plenty who have no interest in male Omegas.”

When Elwin presented as an Omega, his father had refused to despair or hide him away like other nobles. Instead, he had brought in an Omega boy of the same age to serve as Elwin’s attendant so he would have a companion. As a result, Toby had become Elwin’s oldest friend and the only confidant to whom he could speak without a mask.

Seeing Elwin’s rare moment of vulnerability, Toby abandoned the bedding, strode across the room, gently slid the glasses off Elwin’s face, and thrust a silver hand mirror before him.

“Do not worry, Young Master. Who could possibly resist falling for a face like this?”

Just as Toby claimed, the visage reflected in the small mirror was breathtakingly beautiful. Elwin’s deep sapphire eyes, the soft waves of his spun-gold hair, and lips bearing the delicate hue of fresh petals were the exact likeness of his late mother, who had once been celebrated in the capital as an unrivaled beauty.

“If I possessed a face like yours, Young Master, I could seduce even a prince,” Toby grinned proudly. “Beauties of this caliber are exceedingly rare. And that elegant scent of yours! Luring in one sheltered noble gentleman should be child’s play.”

Elwin’s cheeks flushed a faint pink at the audacious praise. Echo, the parrot perched nearby, cried out shamelessly, “Seduce! Seduce!” The bird was exceptionally clever, much like its master, and delighted in teasing him.

“You mean I should rely solely on my face? Would it be better if I just stood there and remained silent?”

Though he felt no vanity regarding his looks, Elwin knew he was beautiful. His eyesight was poor, but he possessed eyes. He also possessed enough self-awareness to know he was utterly inept at what high society called charming pleasantries.

“Hmm. If you say nothing, you might appear aloof, and he might struggle to find his courage.”

“Then… ah, I truly do not know.” Elwin massaged his temples. “Had I known things would come to this, perhaps I should have attended a ball or two.”

“Have you never read a romance novel? There must be at least one in that massive library of yours.”

“They say some people enjoy such trivialities, but they never interested me,” Elwin said, shaking his head. “And in the fairy tales I read as a child, lovers simply fell in love naturally, as if guided by fate.”

Perhaps due to his family’s eccentric nature, Elwin had always shunned social gatherings. He found venues where young men and women preened like peacocks and engaged in subtle power struggles for mates to be artificial and exhausting.

Now that he considered it, however, becoming a peacock and performing a courtship dance seemed comparatively dignified. Elwin was currently in the position of a hunter who had targeted his prey and now had to strike unilaterally.

Naturally, he had no right to complain, so Elwin intended to do whatever it took to appeal to the baron’s second son. Still, a lingering sense of unease bothered him. It sounded dreadfully naive given his circumstances, but in Elwin’s mind, marriage and love were supposed to be a little more…

…I should sleep. It is late.

Elwin folded away his indulgent worries and retired for the night. Having stayed by his side for so long, Toby read his thoughts instantly, offering a hopeful remark to soothe his troubled mind.

“Young Master, perhaps this is your chance for a fated love.”

“Fate, my foot.”

“They say Lord Dwight enjoys reading as well.”

Elwin had heard that rumor too. A few years prior, the baron and his eldest son had visited the count’s household, but Dwight had remained behind, supposedly having fallen ill with a severe coughing fit after becoming too absorbed in his books.

“And I heard he avoids social gatherings just like you, Young Master. He even misses family events. Perhaps that is why, despite being well past the marriageable age, there are no engagements underway with any noble lady.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! And someone who once lived in their territory said that, despite his bookish habits, he does not look like a frail scholar. He is tall, well-built, and exceptionally handsome. Wouldn’t the two of you make a fine pair?” Seeing Elwin’s expression shift with curiosity, Toby leaned in dramatically. “Think about it! How romantic would it be if the two of you fell in love at first sight? Hurry and sleep, Young Master. Tomorrow, you must greet Lord Dwight looking your most exquisite.”

Elwin had no true grasp of romance, but Toby’s cheerful chatter eased his tension, and he managed to fall asleep.

The next day, when the decisive morning finally dawned, the count’s manor buzzed with chaotic energy. Having finished their preparations early, Elwin and the servants clustered by the second-floor windows the moment word arrived that the baron’s carriage had entered the estate.

“Young Master! There they are. That red carriage.”

Elwin narrowed his eyes, straining to peer out the window. Hoping to appeal to the baron’s second son, he had left off his glasses and dressed with meticulous care. Bound by mourning, he could not wear anything vibrant, but he had chosen his finest black wool jacket and even pinned a silver brooch near his lapel—an accessory he almost never wore.

“I see it. I suppose I should go down to the foyer to greet them.”

Elwin composed himself and descended the grand staircase. Guests rarely visited their quiet home, leaving him unaccustomed to the nuances of reception.

He was muttering a formal greeting he had memorized from a textbook under his breath when an abrupt knock sounded at the front door. The moment Alfred pulled it open, Elwin offered a modest, polite bow.

“Welcome. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Then, he raised his head.

Standing before him was a handsome man who looked nothing like a bookish scholar. He was so broad-shouldered and imposing that the massive entryway seemed to shrink around his frame. His skin was sun-bronzed, his black hair glossy, and his potent pheromones carried the rich, alluring scent of sweet orange mingled with spicy cinnamon.

Even through Elwin’s blurred vision, the man’s striking amber eyes held him with startling intensity. As Elwin stood momentarily dazed, the man swept off his hat, caught Elwin’s hand, and brought his lips close enough to brush the bare skin of his knuckles.

“The honor is mine. The young lord is every bit the exquisite beauty I had heard of. I am Leon.”