I, Who Was Betrayed By The People I Loved Most - Chapter 19

Hiring new servants was no longer an option. Daughters of minor nobles—those who hoped to polish their manners and social skills by serving in a noble household—would never choose to work for House Rubert. My disgraceful reputation had already spread far and wide.

When I summoned a staff agent, he showed up with a thin smile and told me, almost mockingly, that even common-born maids and handmaids were unwilling to work here.

He was clearly making a fool of me.

“Everyone says the same thing—‘Anywhere but House Rubert.’ Your Grace’s reputation is in the gutter. People are afraid they’ll be in danger. They say a former maid who worked there was nearly assaulted several times. That story’s gone around quite a bit.”

After tossing those words out, he left without hesitation—as if any longer in my presence was a waste of his time.

Rumors like “Serving House Rubert will cost you your virtue” were being treated as undeniable truth. No new staff arrived. I was forced to manage with the useless few who remained, rotating them through the duties just to keep things barely functioning.

Since giving birth, Camille had grown weak and frail. Her skin was pale, her appetite nearly gone, and even standing seemed to exhaust her. The estate had fallen into a state of neglect. The air was damp and heavy. The maids moved listlessly, and the lively energy that once filled the manor was nowhere to be found. It felt as if everything was slowly collapsing around us.

Minstrels had even started spreading rude songs, singing things like, “Better to sweep chimneys than serve House Rubert.” Even commoners used “Rubert” as a cruel nickname for the fallen. The shame was unbearable.

If Leticia were still my wife, things would never have turned out like this…

One day, a letter arrived for me. The wax seal bore the crest of the Wimberley family—longtime business partners. Seeing the mark of my childhood friend brought a rare smile to my face.

But the contents of the letter were anything but welcome.

It was a formal, polite declaration: they wished to end all further dealings.

I couldn’t believe it. Wimberley and I had shared drinks together, gone on countless hunts. Our families were close. We were more like brothers than friends. And yet now, out of nowhere, he tells me, “We must decline any future dealings.” That couldn’t be right. It shouldn’t be possible.

I immediately rode to the Wimberley estate. Thanks to my magically enhanced horse, I arrived within hours. But the gates that once welcomed me with warm smiles were now firmly shut, as if to turn away a complete stranger.

“I’m sorry, Duke Rubert. The master is not home. He left recently for an overseas diplomatic mission,” the butler told me, his tone cold and distant.

He wouldn’t even meet my eyes. There wasn’t a shred of warmth in his words—only a rehearsed message delivered out of obligation.

I truly believed Wimberley would be the one to stand by me to the end. As a diplomat, he was rarely at home and seldom attended balls or parties. I thought that distance would shield him from rumors, that he would remain my final refuge.

But I knew he was there. His personal horse was still tied in the stable.

I bit my lip and left.

The message was clear: the name “Rubert” no longer held any value.

To Wimberley, my downfall was enough reason to cut me off without hesitation.

And deep inside, something dark began to fester—a slow, burning anger.

At one dinner party, I was mocked by a boy from the lowly House of Baron Alborough—someone I used to look down upon.

“Duke Rubert is quite the hit among the commoners these days, isn’t he?”

The nobles around us were barely hiding their laughter. Those who once bowed and scraped before me now stared as though I were some kind of sideshow.

It was humiliating.

I wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong.

But I couldn’t stop living in luxury. Without vintage wine, I couldn’t eat. If I gave up my tailored suits, people would laugh at me even more, convinced I had truly fallen.

So, I borrowed. When the proper lenders began turning me away, I turned to the underworld—those whispered-about loan sharks.

I hesitated at first. But once I stepped into their world, there was no going back.

The interest rates were brutal. No—inhuman.

And when I couldn’t pay on time, something would happen. A maid injured. Someone knocking on the windows late at night.

These eerie incidents became frequent.

Still, I kept borrowing. I was convinced that if I stopped, everything would come crashing down.

Then Camille died.

She was only twenty-three. The doctor said her chronic illness worsened—but deep down, I wasn’t sure. Maybe the debt collectors had something to do with it.

And yet, when she died, I didn’t cry. I felt nothing. Everything inside me was numb. I never truly loved her—not from the heart. I hadn’t even been there when she passed.

The day of Camille’s funeral, a royal messenger came to see me.

“Duke Rubert. By His Majesty’s order, your title and lands are revoked.”

I knew why. I had sold the Silver Eagle medallion—a badge passed down to every Duke of Rubert, bestowed by the royal family itself. A symbol of pride. And I had pawned it. In the kingdom’s eyes, I had spat on the crown.

The estate and all lands were seized by the royal house.

Now, Marie and I wander through the city at night, hiding in the shadows. I can feel the loan sharks closing in.

I left Rufus outside the Oxley Trading Company.

I gave him a letter and told him to ask for Chairwoman Leticia.

He’s five now—he’ll manage.

Leticia has a kind heart. She wouldn’t turn away an innocent child.

She wouldn’t.

Once a duke, now reduced to a man hunted by thugs no better than common bandits.
These days, I find myself drunk on the roadside, passed out beside my own vomit.

Marie and I argue constantly—so much that I’ve forgotten why we even stay together.

And now, I’ve heard a new rumor.

In the underground of the royal capital, someone has started selling off “useless, debt-ridden former nobles” into the dark trades…

Surely not. It can’t be true.

And yet— That ominous rumor refuses to leave the back of my mind.