Lady Class - Chapter 30

Only a week had passed. And yet, the hallways she had walked countless times, the familiar scent of the manor—it all felt strangely unfamiliar.

My home. My duty to this household. The responsibility I carried for the servants.

These were the words that had once bound Rackley.

But now, as she returned after just a short absence, she felt… detached.

The estate had continued running without her.

Just as Count Winner had no intention of passing it down to her, she, in turn, had no reason to burden herself with expectations. The weight she had carried for so long had finally begun to lift.

On the journey back to the capital, she had spent much time in thought.

Reflecting on the life she had lived so far—and the life that lay ahead.

She couldn’t drastically change her circumstances, nor did she intend to run away. But that didn’t mean she would simply let herself be swept along by fate.

She had decided, at the very least, to steer her life in a direction that would be better.

Rackley knocked on the study door.

“It’s Rackley. May I come in?”

“Enter.”

The scent of paper and ink drifted through the air.

It had been a while.

She had handled estate matters from her own office, so there had been little reason to visit Count Winner’s study.

Inside, she found her half-brother, Edward Winner.

Unlike her, who had been given a separate office to manage affairs alone, Edward had been given a desk inside the Count’s study—kept close by his side.

Count Winner, who had been smiling warmly at Edward just moments ago, immediately erased that expression when he saw Rackley step inside.

She had thought she had become indifferent.

She had been wrong.

“You’ve returned. Did you enjoy your trip?”

“Yes. I had a good rest.”

“I’m glad you’re back, sister.”

“Thank you.”

Edward, watching his father’s reaction, greeted her cautiously.

He had taken her place, and yet, Rackley merely gave him a composed nod.

Rowinda followed her inside, stepping beside the Count. With a display of affection, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh, Rackley,” she sighed dramatically. “I told you he’s busy. I explicitly said not to disturb him, yet here you are insisting on a formal greeting.”

“It is only proper to greet my father when I return home. And I also have something to discuss.”

“What is it?” the Count asked.

“I would like my personal allowance for maintaining my dignity as a noblewoman.”

Rowinda’s eyes narrowed at the mention of money.

Count Winner, too, frowned. He had barely returned home, and already she was asking for funds.

“An allowance for maintaining dignity? The household is now under Rowinda’s care. Why are you asking me?”

“When I was managing the ledgers, I rarely went out, and our finances were tight, so I never allocated a personal allowance for myself. Currently, there is no category for my living expenses in the household’s fixed budget, so I assume Mother simply overlooked it.”

The word Mother slipped from her lips more easily than she had expected.

Count Winner’s brows furrowed. He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“You mean to say you haven’t had a personal allowance all this time?”

“Yes. Not since I was fourteen.”

His expression darkened.

“But now, I need to prepare for marriage, attend social gatherings, and build connections among the young ladies of the nobility. I need funds for that.”

“Oh, Rackley, for something like that, you should have come to me,” Rowinda interjected sweetly. “These are matters I should be handling for you.”

“It isn’t a small amount.”

“Hmm?”

This was the crucial moment. Though her tone remained steady, her heart pounded in her chest.

Hearing that the Lava Trading Company had begun yielding profits, Rackley had immediately realized what she needed to do first.

“I would like to receive the personal allowance I was denied all these years—starting from when I was fourteen.”

Eight years’ worth.

Even without calculations, the sum was substantial enough for the Count’s face to harden.

“Father, as you know, I have managed this estate since my mother fell ill. As a member of this household, I fulfilled my responsibilities. Had you hired someone to do the same work, the cost would have been significant. But as a daughter, it was my duty, and I carried it out without question. I believe you understand the effort and dedication that entailed.”

Rackley had dealt with older nobles long enough to know how to approach them. She chose her words carefully, both appeasing her father and pressing upon his pride.

For nobles, the most important things were dignity, appearances, and legitimacy. Even when a mistake was made, if there was a valid justification, the aristocracy would tolerate it.

“I heard from Mother that the Lava Trading Company has been bringing in a considerable profit—enough that Madame Bue was hired to oversee the upcoming banquet. That suggests there’s now financial flexibility.”

Rowinda’s smug smile flickered slightly.

“So, I would like to receive what I am rightfully owed—the sum that has been withheld from me all these years.”

“Madame Bue…” Count Winner echoed, his gaze shifting. “You mean the event planner Rowinda hired?”

“Yes. Father, you’re willing to spare no expense for your new Countess’s grand introduction to society. But if I, your daughter, appear at social events while cutting costs and limiting expenses, what would people say about the Winner household?”

She paused, letting her words settle.

“This isn’t just about me—it’s also about protecting Mother’s dignity as the new Countess.”

She wasn’t demanding additional luxuries—only claiming what was already hers. That made it difficult for the Count to refuse outright.

And, most importantly, she was right.

Count Winner was just as concerned about society’s whispers. Regardless of his decision to recognize an illegitimate son, his reputation was still at stake.

He had no desire for rumors to spread that he was indulging his new wife while being miserly toward his own daughter.

“Am I asking for too much, Father?”

Rackley kept her voice steady, though her heart pounded violently in her chest.

She had voiced her opinions before—but she had never demanded anything like this.

Yet, she was justified.

She wasn’t making an unreasonable request. She was only asking for what was rightfully hers. There was no need to lower her head or act submissive.

For a brief moment, Kahn came to mind.

A gigolo, yet more noble than any nobleman. Confident. Unyielding.

Count Winner remained silent before finally nodding, albeit reluctantly.

“Very well. Rowinda, allocate the same amount for her allowance as yours.”

“B-But, my lord! Rackley has lived frugally all this time. If someone unused to wealth suddenly comes into a large sum, she may develop wasteful habits!”

“She ran this household for years. She managed the estate’s finances—who’s to say she wouldn’t handle her own money just as well? She’s never been reckless with spending.”

“That may be true, but household funds aren’t the same as personal money…”

Rowinda, unwilling to concede, continued to nitpick. But the Count’s expression darkened.

“Rackley is the Count’s daughter. You, more than anyone, should understand that maintaining an aristocratic image requires significant expenses. It’s only until she marries—surely that much is acceptable?”

“Y-Yes, I suppose so…”

With the Count’s decision made, Rowinda had no choice but to comply.

Even Rackley was slightly surprised—she had expected some resistance. Yet, the Count had granted her request without much argument.

For the first time, she felt that her efforts over the years had been acknowledged. She was grateful.

But gratitude alone wouldn’t put the money in her hands.

“And the unpaid allowances from previous years—will those be issued at the same rate?”

“Yes.”

“Mother, when can I expect to receive them?”

“Rowinda?”

When Rowinda hesitated, Count Winner pressed her for an answer.

Her smile remained, but the way her cheek twitched betrayed her irritation.

“A week. I’ll have it ready in a week.”

“A week? How much do you think the total sum is to require that long?”

“…Tomorrow. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow.”

Rowinda quickly changed her answer, pushing the date forward under the Count’s scrutiny.

But despite her agreement, she bit her lower lip anxiously.

Rackley found her reaction curious. But she had achieved her goal, so she simply grasped the hem of her dress and bent her knees in a polite curtsy.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Has my marriage partner been decided?”

“We’re still searching. Your opinion is important, so attend the upcoming gatherings and see if anyone catches your interest.”

Rackley already knew that Sir Solomon had been asked to find her a match, but she feigned ignorance and nodded.

“Yes, I’ll do that. Once I receive my allowance, I’ll be going out more frequently to prepare dresses and accessories. I also need to meet other young ladies and gather information.”

“Very well. I’ll have a carriage prepared for your use.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She had merely mentioned her plans for frequent outings, yet he had provided her with a personal carriage. It was an unexpected gesture of consideration.

With that, their conversation reached its natural end. They had never been the kind of father and daughter to engage in warm, personal discussions.

As she turned to leave, her gaze briefly met Edward’s. But she said nothing and simply looked away.

Before she had even closed the study door behind her, she heard Rowinda’s hushed complaints.

She was trying to make the Count reconsider.

Rackley quietly left the door slightly ajar and listened to the conversation inside.

“My lord, if she’s claiming back allowance from when she was fourteen, the amount is far too large. And matching her living expenses to mine? That’s excessive.”

“It’s only until she marries. If the cost troubles you, then work harder to ensure she weds quickly.”

“W-Well, that may be true, but…”

“She has no sense of refinement. If she shows up at gatherings looking shabby, people will talk—about you. They’ll say the new Countess mistreats her stepdaughter.”

“I have never mistreated her.”

“I know that, Rowinda. But as Countess, you must be mindful of appearances. Edward is important, but you must also ensure Rackley is married into a family that benefits the house.”

“…Yes, I understand.”

Hearing the Count’s firm tone, Rowinda softened her voice into a sultry purr.

“I only worry for her. The timing is just so strange—she never asked for an allowance before, and suddenly, right after I arrived, she demands one. She could have just spoken to me instead. I suppose she still finds it difficult to accept me.”

“A parent’s role is to embrace their child, even if they are slow to accept change. In any case, she won’t be here much longer.”

“Yes, I’ll try to be more attentive.”

“…This estate finally feels warm again. A household needs a woman’s touch.”

“And I am so happy to be by your side.”

Rackley didn’t need to turn back to picture the scene behind her.

She felt no resentment.

If she thought of him not as a father but as a man, she could understand Winner Count’s perspective—at least to some extent.

For eight years, the Countess’s seat had been empty. Even when he returned home, there had been no one to welcome him, no warmth waiting for him. He must have been lonely.

He had conceived a child with Rowinda before her mother had even left for convalescence, but still… Rackley found she did not want to hold it against him.

She was trying, at least, to understand him.

But truthfully, she no longer cared.

She just wanted to live her own life now.

As she walked down the corridor, she found Jean waiting for her.

“You said the Lava Trading Company is making significant profits?”

“Yes, my lady. Your insight was correct. If the family hadn’t invested when you suggested, we would now be struggling to cover maturing promissory notes.”

“Can I review the ledgers?”

“Well… The Countess has forbidden anyone else from seeing them.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to visit the company directly.”

“Yes. After all, the Lava Trading Company belongs to you, my lady.”