Obsessed with Regressors

him when his prophecy was wrong.

And there’s where she didn’t get it, German seemed to think she was very important to Burns.
So he planned to blackmail Burns by kidnapping her.
She didn’t know what threat he was trying to make.
German was said to be unable to speak now.
She sipped her tea and asked Burns, who thanked her mother for understanding.

“But why did Lord German kidnap me?”

Tetto, ratther, the mercenary tasked with monitoring her was like if she was important for Sir German’s goal.
So, naturally, she knew that Oliver owed Lord German a great debt.
But last night, Oliver, who had come to check on her, sneered when she asked if Sir German had any gambling debts.

‘That guy is broke.’

“Ah, that… ”

A moment of hesitation crossed Burns’ face.
He took one look at her and then turned his head to her mother and said:

“I don’t know either.
I can only guess that it was because I returned the handkerchief to Lady Biscon.”

‘Handkerchief? Oh.’

It was then that she remembered how he had sent her a handkerchief.
The handkerchief she lent him was dirty, so he said he would return it for a new one.

She guessed so.
That must have started a rumor.
He had her initials embroidered on the handkerchief he sent her, and he would have had to order it from a shop.
Unless Burns had embroidered it himself.

A slightly wicked thought came to her mind.
Imagining that big man squatting and embroidering a small handkerchief.
It was so out of place that it’s almost laughable.
She was giggling alone when she heard her mother speak in a softer voice than she thought.

“Then it is certainly not Mr.
Burns’ fault.
Mr.
Burns was just being polite.”

“Thank you for your kind words.”

More and more her mother seemed to like Burns’ well-mannered behavior.
And oddly enough, she wasn’t too happy with this situation.

“I heard that you handle weapons very well.”

Her mother’s ensuing question made her realize why that situation was unpleasant.
Because of that dream.
A dream in which Eliot Burns killed her mother and Oliver.

Giving him the handkerchief in the first place was to keep her mother and Oliver away from him.
But that’s just a dream.
She recalled the difference between that situation and the dream.
First of all, in the dream, Elliot Burns was not in that well-dressed suit.

A tight-fitting vest and a shirt with silver threads.
Elliot Burns now looked like a young aristocrat.
He was also the heir to a very wealthy and historic family.
It wasn’t the Elliot Burns she had seen in her dreams.
He looked like a mercenary or maybe a general in those dreams.

She honestly didn’t know.
She has only had that dream twice and her eyes were always focused on him attacking people.

“It’s not at the level the lady is asking about.
It’s just enough to protect myself.”

As the near-perfect answer slipped from Burns’ mouth, she saw a satisfied look on her mother’s face.
Looks like Elliot Burns would win her mother’s heart.

She started to have strange thoughts.
It’s not like Burns wanted to be the lover of an aristocratic wife.
Although her mother was not a mistress, she was told that she had been made such an offer in the past.

She was now an ordinary countess, but until Oliver’s birth she was the personal maid of a princess whose mother was now married to a neighboring country.
She was told that there were cunning men with the calculation that if they became her mother’s lover, they might make a kite for the royal family.
It was also her mother’s pride that she was not swayed by so many temptations.

“Who is this?”

Oliver appeared after a light socialite talk between his mother and Burns.
He was holding a trophy in one hand that he hadn’t seen since coming from the club.
Who did he steal it from? She glanced over, but Oliver passed the trophy to Biggs, and he sat down next to her and said to Burns.

“Elliot Burns.
If I had known you were coming, I wouldn’t have gone out today either.”

Apparently, Oliver and Burns became quite close while she was ill.
At her older brother’s unreserved attitude, Burns only grinned without saying anything.

Or maybe she was the only one who thought they’ve become friends. 

Soon after, a servant brought Oliver’s tea, and he continued, raising the cup.

“You did well to get out though.
Mother, do you know what I heard at the club today?”

‘Huh? Suddenly?’ Her mother and she suddenly looked puzzled when Oliver started talking about the club.
Just in case, she looked up at Burns, and he had a look on his face as if he knew what Oliver was to say.

‘No way.’

“I heard that His Highness the King has decided to give Mr.
Burns a title here.”

For a moment there was silence in the living room.
She hesitated whether to be surprised or congratulated, but her mother turned her head to Burns and said,

“It’s all right, Mr.
Burns.
No, I should call you Lord Burns.”

“It’s not just Lord Burns.”

Oliver looked funny.
He smiled and spoke.

“Count Burns.