Chapter 6.5

Whenever Miguel stepped outside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched or judged, as if eyes were constantly following him. It was as if the weight of the Dante family’s name was heavier than the crown the King bore. Miguel had been plagued by such futile thoughts more frequently of late.

The day to travel to the capital for the sale of the Cherlin estate was fast approaching. The Royal Family, seemingly in a hurry, had scheduled the canal construction bidding to begin immediately after the contract was finalized. Miguel planned to stay in Ruota until the awaited letter arrived, after which he would head to the capital to prepare for the bidding.

If Lisael were to learn about the estate’s development, the brief moment of sincerity they had shared at the salon would become meaningless. The thought of repeating the deep-seated conflict between them made Miguel feel nauseous, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

“Young Earl, a letter has arrived for you from Cherlin.”

An attendant entered the room and placed a white envelope on Miguel’s desk. The sender’s name was written on the envelope. Without hesitation, Miguel opened it, knowing he had been expecting correspondence.

The letter was from Mason, his close friend, who had asked him for a favor. That single piece of paper brought forward the day Miguel would have to leave for the capital—immediately, the next day.

“Young Earl…?”

Noticing the dark shadow that passed over Miguel’s face, the attendant cautiously called out to him.

“Is Lisael in her room?”

“She has gone out.”

Miguel’s eyebrows arched in surprise. 

Despite experiencing firsthand the poor treatment she received whenever she ventured out, why did she insist on leaving so often? 

Miguel genuinely couldn’t understand Lisael.

The idle gossip and accusing fingers of the crowds, too cowardly to confront nobles directly, would undoubtedly point at the pitiable Young Countess. Clenching his fists tightly, Miguel stood up.

The plan of staying indoors until his departure for the capital crumbled in an instant.

Unlike Miguel, who believed staying behind closed doors was the wisest course, Lisael couldn’t bear to stay cooped up in the hotel. Wandering the streets seemed to be the only way to escape the chaotic thoughts constantly swirling in her mind.

Dressed in a simple dress she used to wear back in Cherlin, Lisael strolled through the city streets. In Ruota, unlike in Cherlin, no one recognized her face. Changing her attire allowed her to walk freely without drawing any attention. This inadvertently gave her a glimpse of hope for life after divorce. The world wasn’t as interested in her as she had feared—so long as she didn’t announce herself as the Young Countess.

As usual, protests were in full swing outside the factory. It had been a week, with neither the workers nor the management showing any willingness to compromise. Lisael wondered if sending the villagers to work in factories had truly been the best solution. Imagining the protesting workers as people from Cherlin, she couldn’t help but think it was all in vain if the jobs they were given only led to strikes like this.

She had stepped out to clear her mind, but the sights and sounds around her only added to her inner turmoil. Forcing herself to look away from the protesting crowd, Lisael headed into the city center. However, now that she had finally gained some freedom, she realized she had nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Her unfocused gaze landed on a bakery. The familiar scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, gently tickling her nose. The shopkeeper, a woman who appeared to own the bakery, was neatly arranging delicious-looking sandwiches on the display shelf.

In Ruota, a city filled with street artists, sandwiches were a staple for those seeking a quick meal. As a result, a wide variety of sandwiches, rare in other towns, had become a specialty of Ruota. There were salmon sandwiches, chicken sandwiches, and even combinations unimaginable elsewhere—all stuffed between slices of bread.

‘Come to think of it, Uncle Lloyd always loved salmon sandwiches.’

Eating fish in bread had left such a vivid impression on Lisael that she still remembered it clearly, even from her childhood. Perhaps she could buy a sandwich and visit him once more—not as the Young Countess, but as the daughter of an old friend. Maybe then he would open the door that had been firmly shut.

“One salmon sandwich, please.”

The shopkeeper, delighted to see her goods selling quickly, hummed a tune as she packed the sandwich into a paper bag.

‘Oh no…’

Meanwhile, Lisael’s expression turned awkward as she opened her wallet to pay. She rarely had to handle money herself, so she hadn’t checked the wallet Charlotte had prepared for her before leaving. Inside the luxurious leather wallet were only the largest coins, ones that commoners would never carry. Even if she handed one over, it was unlikely the shopkeeper would have enough change, and offering such a large coin for a simple sandwich would only draw suspicion.

“…I’m so sorry. I seem to have run out of smaller coins.”

Closing the wallet, Lisael tried to convey her apologies with a regretful expression. The shopkeeper, who had been about to hand over the sandwich, frowned deeply but had no choice but to put it back.

After bowing her head in apology, Lisael turned to leave. Behind her, a man approached the counter.

“I’ll take that.”

The shopkeeper, who had been about to return the sandwich to the shelf, brightened up and handed it over to the new customer. The man, now holding the sandwich, kept his eyes fixed on Lisael as she walked away.

The main shopping district was bustling with people. Carrying a wallet full of unusable money, Lisael decided to return to the hotel. As she pushed through the busy crowd, shoulders bumped into hers from every direction.

While navigating through the throng, someone brushed past her shoulder and quickly moved away. Lisael turned to glare at the man who had bumped into her. He was rushing through the crowd, shoving people aside as if fleeing from something.

‘Wait, could it be…?’

Instinctively, Lisael checked her bag for her wallet. The uneasy feeling that had flashed through her mind was spot on.

She had been pickpocketed! Of all things, to be robbed—it was almost laughable. Pickpocketing wasn’t common in small villages, where everyone knew each other’s circumstances and stealing would yield little reward.

The reason Lisael had fallen victim to theft was clear.

‘That man must have seen my wallet at the bakery.’

The pickpocket, now long gone into the crowd, was likely celebrating his windfall. Knowing she couldn’t catch him, Lisael could only fumble with her now-empty bag. Misfortune seemed to follow her whenever she stepped outside.

She tried to console herself by thinking it wasn’t really her money, but the sinking feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away. The stark realization of her helplessness tightened its grip on her heart.

Leaving the shopping district, she found herself on a street lined with artists. Painters, each with their unique style, had set up along the roadside, waiting for customers or showcasing their skills by drawing portraits.

Some artists carried stacks of landscapes or impressionist paintings, selling them at affordable prices to find new owners. It was a scene unique to Ruota, a city renowned for its art.

“Hey, miss. Come here for a moment. Let me draw you.”

Lisael, casting fleeting glances at the vibrant canvases, was stopped by an artist chewing on a sketch pencil.

“…I don’t have any money.”

Understanding her financial situation without her having to explain, the artist waved dismissively.

“No charge. I’m just bored and need to practice.”

At the artist’s insistence, Lisael reluctantly sat on a small stool, becoming his model.

The artist seemed to specialize in sketches, judging by his surroundings. Most of the canvases displayed nearby were detailed still-life or portrait sketches. They were so lifelike that they resembled photographs rather than drawings.