target chapter 3

Chapter 2

Infiltrating the ducal estate’s backyard to spy on him all night while feeding the rabbits.

Anonymously cursing Mirian by sending her forty-four chain letters.

Scrawling ‘Grand Duke Miller ♡ Lynne de Sert’ on the wall of the ducal estate.

Bribing a famous fortune-teller to spread a false rumor that Lynne de Sert is the Grand Duke’s destined partner.

Waiting for His Grace all day at the entrance of the ducal estate under the pretext of having a picnic.

Boldly showing up for “work” at the ducal estate dressed as a maid.

And even having the audacity to serve His Grace black tea herself.

“That concludes the list of ‘major’ incidents from the past three months, Your Grace.”

The ‘Lady Sert’s Stalking List’ written on the paper was truly novel.

Miller pressed his temples and asked in a weary voice, “…Did you say Lady Sert?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Haa… And what was she caught doing today?”

“Well… she was reportedly caught coloring in the heart in the ‘Grand Duke Miller ♡ Lynne de Sert’ graffiti with a red pen.”

“Dammit.”

Miller glared at the firmly shut office door. Beyond it, he knew, was that shameless stalker. He shook his head and gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Send her back. If this is her ploy to see my face, she would do well to stop. Tell her that, Lady Sert.”

The moment he finished saying ‘Lady Sert,’ a gasp of delight erupted from outside the door. She sounded as bright and cheerful as a fan whose favorite celebrity had just called out her name. Miller wrinkled his nose in displeasure.

Though she had made it as far as the door to his private office, Lynne was ultimately thrown out and into the Sert family carriage.

The only sounds that filled the carriage were the rumbling of the wheels and the rattling of the frame.

Rattle, rattle.

Anxious at the aimless journey, a maid cautiously spoke up.

“My lady, are we returning to the viscounty?”

At the maid’s question, Lynne shot her a venomous glare.

“No! Go to the fortune-teller’s shop we visited before!”

One wrong word and she was liable to get slapped again. The maid swallowed what she was about to say and shouted to the driver through the small window.

“We need to go to the fortune-teller’s shop we went to last time.”

“Hm? It’s already quite late, though.”

“It’s what the young lady wishes…”

“…”

The driver said nothing more and headed straight for the shop. Explaining anything to Lynne, with whom even a simple conversation was impossible, would just be a waste of breath.

After a long and roundabout journey, they arrived at the fortune-teller’s shop. Not before kicking the blameless driver’s rear for taking so long, Lynne entered the shabby establishment.

“Welco—!”

The moment he saw Lynne’s venomous face, the fortune-teller’s mouth fell open, and he blinked rapidly.

“Is that it? The potion I ordered?”

“Uh… th-that may be it, yes.”

Before he could even finish, she viciously snatched the potion bottle from his hands.

“If I drink this, I can marry my Grand Duke, right?”

The fortune-teller just gave a stiff smile, his eyes darting around nervously.

“Why aren’t you answering? Is it true or not!”

“According to ancient alchemy, it is said to be so, but… I truly feel it is too dangerous and cannot recommend…”

“So, can I marry him or not!”

“Y-y-yes, you can!!”

The fortune-teller trembled at Lynne’s shriek and covered his ears, trying to catch his breath. The piercing scream was one thing, but it had also made his chronically weak heart pound as if it would burst. Lynne snorted at the sight of him.

“You should have just said so from the start! Useless old man!”

Lynne snatched the potion from the fortune-teller and downed it in one gulp. Before he even had time to stop her, she had emptied the bottle, leaving him frozen in stunned silence.

“I’ll give you the money when it takes effect! How do I know you’re not a fraud?”

Lynne spat out a sneer and headed for her carriage.

Click. The fortune-teller’s lips trembled as he stared at the closed door. It was a blessing, if one could call it that, that Lynne’s violent nature had led her to drink the potion without asking about its ingredients. He crumpled the paper with the list of ingredients and threw it into the fireplace.

“P-pack your things,” he told his assistant. “We must leave this empire. Immediately.”

“What?! S-so suddenly?”

The fortune-teller’s face was deathly pale as he continued. “That girl will surely die! You saw the ingredients, didn’t you? As if love potions actually exist in this world! W-we have to escape before the sun rises.”

As the fortune-teller predicted, Lynne lost consciousness the moment she lay down in bed. She suffocated, her heart pounded as if it would explode, but she couldn’t even make a sound.

Th-this is strange. So strange! A-at this rate, I’m going to… d-d… ie…

Because she had threatened her staff never to enter her room uninvited, not a single person noticed her death. On any other night, Lynne would have summoned her servants dozens of times before dawn to throw a hysterical fit, but tonight, her room was not just quiet, it was eerily still.

Morning came, but the door remained firmly shut. The maids gathered outside, not daring to open it, but unable to help their worry.