Chapter 3.11

“Uh… Do I owe you a fee for this? A delivery fee?”  

“Of course not.”  

Rowen’s eyebrows twitched, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  

“Then why are you upset?”  

She had thanked him, hadn’t she? As Ariana continued blinking in confusion, Rowen pointed at himself.  

“What do you call me?”  

She hadn’t paid much attention to how she addressed him. After racking her brain for a moment, she finally answered,  

“Uh… ‘that guy’?”

“‘That guy,’ huh.”  

Rowen’s eyebrows twitched again.  

“What a wonderful title. Very distant, isn’t it?”  

“Hmm…?”  

Ariana narrowed her eyes, seemingly realizing something.  

“Is this about titles? Dylan is ‘Dylan,’ and you’re ‘that guy’?”  

“Well, if you insist on calling me that, go ahead…”  

Rowen muttered petulantly but suddenly fell silent. Closing the distance between them, he reached out toward Ariana.  

“Ah!”  

Startled, Ariana let out a small cry as Rowen’s hand touched her left cheek—the same cheek her husband had struck the night before.  

“Ugh.”  

Pain shot through her as his hand made contact, causing her to flinch. Rowen’s expression turned icy.  

“You were hit, weren’t you?”  

“No, I wasn’t.”  

“Then did you bump into something?”  

“No. I accidentally hit myself.”  

“That’s absurd.”  

Rowen stared at her, clearly unconvinced, leaving Ariana unable to hide the truth any longer.  

“I covered it well with makeup. How did you notice?”  

“There’s swelling. It’s impossible not to notice.”  

“You’ve got sharp eyes. Is that a job-related skill…?”  

“Who hit you?”  

Ariana’s attempt to lighten the mood with humor failed under Rowen’s relentless questioning. She shifted her gaze nervously, searching for the right words. No matter how unfaithful her husband was, he was still the Earl of Astaroth. She couldn’t air her family’s dirty laundry in front of someone from the intelligence agency, especially when his background remained unclear.  

Seeing her reluctance to answer, Rowen immediately understood.  

“I shouldn’t have asked. There’s only one person in that household who could dare strike the Countess.”  

He grimaced as he carefully withdrew his hand from her cheek.  

“Do you really want to stay in the same house as a man who might harm you? You should either drive him out or leave yourself.”  

“If he were the type to leave, I’d have kicked him out already. And I have no intention of leaving my own home.”  

Ariana chuckled dryly.  

“Besides, no one wants to protect me more than he does. His mistress’s illegitimate child can only become a proper noble if I agree to adopt him.”

The reason her husband insisted he could never divorce Ariana aligned with his own selfish motives. To maintain his position as a noble and live in luxury, he needed her. However, Rowen sighed as if even such thoughts were naïve and ran his hands down his face.  

“As long as you stay alive, that much isn’t hard to handle. Why don’t you take better care of yourself?”  

“I don’t think that’s something you need to concern yourself with. Let’s just focus on the tasks we’ve agreed on.”  

“I’m just doing my job to collect my rent, so take care of yourself, will you?”  

Neither of them backed down, and the tension between them was palpable. It felt as though sparks were flying from their locked gazes.  

“Um… excuse me…”  

A trembling voice broke the stalemate, causing both of them to turn their heads simultaneously.  

“Should I… step out for a moment?”  

Dylan, shaking like a newborn lamb, pointed hesitantly toward the door.  

“No, that won’t be necessary.”  

Ariana sighed deeply, trying to reassure him.  

“Sorry if we startled you by raising our voices.”  

In hindsight, there was no need for her to be so confrontational with Rowen. She had lashed out because she felt embarrassed about being struck by her husband. After all, Rowen’s words were out of genuine concern for her. Feeling sheepish, Ariana apologized to him as well.  

“Sorry. I acted all confident, but I was embarrassed about being hit by my husband.”  

Her honest confession made Rowen’s face twist into a grimace.  

“Why should you feel embarrassed about that? The one who hit you should be ashamed.”  

“Well, that’s true.”  

But emotions don’t always follow logic.  

“What can I do if I feel this way? Don’t worry, though—I’ll pay him back for it later, tenfold.”  

Ariana clenched her fists, brimming with determination. She had no time to waste if she wanted to get her revenge on her husband.  

“If you—no, Wendy—want to help me, then thoroughly investigate that man for me.”  

“‘Wendy’…?”  

Rowen repeated the name, his tone laced with disbelief, as Ariana cleared her throat awkwardly.  

“I know your name, but it’s the same as my husband’s, so it’s just… uncomfortable to say.”  

“Ah.”  

Rowen and her husband shared the same name. Even though she knew they were different people, the identical name made her feel uneasy every time she said it. But she couldn’t keep calling him “that guy” forever—it wasn’t polite. As she pondered what to call him, she suddenly recalled the nickname Kazen used: Wendy.  

“If you don’t like me using a nickname meant for close friends…”  

“It’s not that kind of nickname. Kazen just made it up.”  

Rowen hastily clarified, nodding in agreement.  

“Given the circumstances, Wendy works fine. But in return, I’ll call you by a nickname too, for fairness.”  

“A nickname for me?”  

Ariana let out a disbelieving laugh.  

“Why are you so obsessed with fairness?”  

“Don’t you like fairness too?”  

“Well, generally, yes.”  

Why did this man from the intelligence agency always have such valid points? Ariana could only raise her hands in surrender.  

“Then call me Nana. I don’t really have a nickname, but close friends sometimes call me that.”  

Not that she had many close friends—only the twin siblings from the Duke of Etzel’s household called her that.  

“Alright, Miss Nana. Now it’s fair.”  

“Are you satisfied, Mr. Wendy? Then I’d like you to leave now.”  

“Gladly.”  

Rowen left the room, bowing with a politeness he had never shown as an intelligence agency employee. His bow, executed with the precision of court etiquette, left Dylan visibly stunned. Although he didn’t know much about court manners as a commoner, he could tell Rowen’s bow was exceptionally noble-like.  

“Is Mr. Rowen a noble?”  

“He says he’s just good at mimicking nobles because of his job.”  

“Mimicking?”  

That? 

Dylan found it hard to believe that such natural, ingrained movements were merely an imitation.  

“Well, if that’s what he says, we’ll just have to take his word for it.”  

Ariana shrugged and opened the crate on the table. She didn’t have the luxury to dwell on Rowen’s true identity. The first thing to emerge from the crate was the goddess statue.  

“I brought the statue first. I want you to use all the techniques you learned from Daniel to restore it to its best condition.”  

Dylan carefully accepted the statue from her hands. The opportunity to restore such a precious piece was a monumental moment in his life.  

“And what I value even more is this…”  

The crate, now missing the statue, was filled with broken ceramics. Dylan’s fame from restoring the statue would undoubtedly benefit the sale of these ceramics. Wealthy collectors from the Republic would surely come with their bags of money to buy dishes painstakingly restored by the same artisan who worked on a national treasure.  

“I brought some of the ceramics from the mansion. These are all incredibly valuable, so even when broken, they’re rarely thrown away. The maids kept them all stored away. And this is just a small portion.”  

She had only intended to gather a few pieces for testing, but she was surprised to find a significant amount of broken plates and cups in the basement storage. Some had been broken by the servants during work, while others had naturally cracked or chipped over time. Although they were in poor condition, the family avoided disposing of them carelessly, fearing it might cause problems. Instead, they were discarded every few years with the steward’s approval.  

“Perhaps other noble families have similar situations.”  

If she contacted noblewomen, offering to buy their broken plates and teacups, she might acquire them at a bargain. That way, she could purchase excellent products with minimal capital.  

“So, let’s use these for restoration tests first…”  

“Miss Ariana.”  

As she continued her explanation, Dylan cautiously interrupted.  

“Actually, after hearing what you said last time, I experimented a bit on my own. It’s just something I tried with some plates lying around at home…”  

Dylan rummaged through his bag on the floor and pulled out a few plates.  

“They’re not made from anything fancy, but I think they’ll give you an idea of the restoration method.”  

“Really? Let’s have a look.”