“I apologize. It’s only natural that you’re ignorant about noble society, Lady. My consideration was lacking. Corsets correct one’s figure and posture to look pleasing, so most noble ladies wear them. They’re practically basic undergarments.”

Nerty spewed lies without her expression changing in the slightest.

There was a time when wearing corsets under dresses was fashionable. As Nerty said, they had the effect of making one’s waist look slender.

However, as recently fashionable dress designs changed, corsets that only caused discomfort naturally fell out of fashion. Moreover, even when corsets were worn, the strings weren’t pulled tight enough to prevent breathing like in the past. A corset with boards like this was closer to a t*rture device.

Having served the fashion-sensitive Melissa, Ribeta naturally knew these facts well. Melissa would throw all sorts of fits, saying she hated how stuffy it felt even though she had no choice but to wear the corset. On some days she’d torment Ribeta saying the strings were tied too tight, on other days saying they weren’t tight enough. So when the corset trend ended, she didn’t know how happy she was.

To think she’d end up wearing a corset she thought she’d never have to wear again in her life, in this manner.

“How is it, Lady? Is there any discomfort?”

Nerty, who casually asked such a question while having tightened it so much not even a thin sheet of paper could slip through, looked only grotesque in Ribeta’s eyes. However, she didn’t show such feelings at all and answered calmly.

“I think I can endure it.”

“You can endure it?”

Nerty’s voice rose slightly. She examined Ribeta from various angles, not hiding her displeased expression.

Soon she lifted her chin slightly.

“I was going to loosen the strings a bit if it was difficult, but since you can endure it, never mind. I’ll come back at this time tomorrow, so keep it on properly. I’ll tell the head maid to watch carefully so you don’t slack off, Lady.”

“I won’t let your precious teachings go to waste, Madam.”

“Oh my. I’m already looking forward to tomorrow.”

Nerty, who inspected the corset one last time, left. Only after the presence completely disappeared did Ribeta exhale the breath she’d been holding.

She safely got through another hurdle today.

‘Safely…… would be right, wouldn’t it?’

Just not arousing suspicion from Helga or Nerty was enough. Even if the corset was uncomfortable, this much was nothing compared to the beatings she received from Melissa.

Her life wasn’t in danger, nor was she being sold to a slave market. Compared to that terrible experience of being appraised by countless people in a nearly n*ked state, wearing a corset was so easy it was almost laughable.

If it was a matter of enduring and persevering, she could do it as much as needed. Because she feared ruining Diego’s plan when faced with something she couldn’t handle more than physical suffering.

‘I don’t really know how to win the Duke’s favor either……’

But Nerty’s actions were wrong. Just because it was endurable didn’t mean it wasn’t harassment or *buse. An ordinary noble lady would have collapsed within a few hours unable to endure it.

‘How many people has this woman tormented until now? I feel sorry for those who must have been harassed under the excuse of education without even knowing the exact reason.’

In that sense, she might be a bit better off. At least she could somewhat guess the reason Countess Caylerd was tormenting her.

Countess Caylerd was pouring out on Ribeta the malice directed at Diego.

‘What could have happened between Count and Countess Caylerd?’

Nothing came to mind from her memories for now. Even if something had happened between the two, she wouldn’t have heard about it since she paid no attention to rumors. Ribeta thought she should consciously seek out rumors from now on.

She also recalled what Diego had said like advice before they parted.

“Information is a tool. Depending on one’s ability to judge its value and authenticity and how one determines its use, even the same information can produce different results.”

“What should I do if I don’t have such ability?”

“It’s simple. Just collect as much information as possible. I’ll be the one to judge and use it. For the time being.”

The expression ‘for the time being’ lingered in her ears. No matter how much Diego arranged things in advance, she couldn’t avoid appearing in society at all. To live smoothly as Countess Ruperto for two years, she needed to at least be able to distinguish and utilize information from rumors.

Perhaps that was what Diego really wanted to tell her.

Ribeta slowly recalled her conversation with Diego. There was nothing in the lady’s room besides furniture. Thinking about something was better for passing time than sitting blankly.

“The Duke will keep you confined to your room until the wedding day. He’ll assign people to watch you too. There is concern that you might flee, but his pride prevents him from showing it to a lady who has not been properly educated. Will that be a problem?”

“It’s fine. I’m actually relieved I don’t have to meet nobles. Is there anything specific I should do at the ducal residence?”

“Pretend to obediently follow the Duke’s will. Make it seem like you’re in despair because your plan to escape failed. However, you don’t need to endure unjust treatment.”

At that part, Ribeta tilted her head slightly. It was difficult to understand exactly what kind of unjust treatment Diego was talking about.

Ribeta’s life, born a slave and living as a slave, was entirely stained with injustice. The deep-rooted injustice from a birth she couldn’t choose was scattered throughout her life. She’d get beaten even just breathing quietly, and get cursed at even when lying prostrate like a dead mouse.

The problem was that she didn’t even think it was unjust.

At first, it was unfair. She hated the reality of being whipped for things she didn’t do wrong. But gradually, she had no choice but to accept such reality.

Because I’m a slave. Because I was born this way.

A slave had to accept whatever happened to them from their master. Right and wrong, injustice and unfairness—questioning such things wasn’t permitted for slaves. So for Ribeta, ‘unjust treatment’ meant someone other than her master coveting her body, or her life being threatened. Even if such things happened, if it reflected her master’s will, she’d just resign herself saying it couldn’t be helped.

Just like when Melissa sold her to Lerrbatia, she didn’t resent Melissa and thought what was coming had come.

But the lady, though of common birth and illegitimate, was unmistakably the Duke’s daughter. And she’d soon become a countess. It didn’t seem like there’d be anyone who could give such a lady ‘unjust treatment.’

“May I judge such things?”

“You’re the one who’ll be living at the ducal residence. If you don’t judge, who will?”

“I might act arbitrarily and become a burden to you, Count.”

“No matter how arbitrarily you act, you can’t surpass my notoriety.”

It was so true that she was momentarily speechless. But agreeing felt like criticizing Diego to his face, so Ribeta lowered her gaze. Diego looked at her and said nonchalantly.

“Unless it’s *ssault or murder.”

“I’ve never even thought of such things.”

“I know. You’re absolutely not the kind of person who’d lay hands on others. You’d torment yourself if anything.”

This too was true. She’d rather be in pain herself than see others suffer. Whether when she stepped forward at the Sirente Exchange, or when she gave water to the dying woman in the Lerrbatia underground, such thoughts filled her mind.

It was truly strange. Though they’d only met recently, Diego grasped Ribeta accurately. Perhaps he knew more about her than she knew herself. It felt unfamiliar and fascinating, like when she saw his painting.

I thought no one would care about things like my feelings or thoughts.

Actually, it was natural. Who would care about a slave’s feelings?

If I avoid those eyes, that gaze, will this feeling disappear?

Ribeta slightly turned her head away, avoiding the gaze that poured down almost painfully. Then the tip of Diego’s shoe lightly touched her foot.

The carriage they rode in was old and worn. The interior was so cramped that when Diego stretched out his long legs, they easily reached the opposite seat.

Ribeta flinched and raised her head.

“I can make *ssault into self-defense.”

“……What?”

“I mean don’t force yourself to endure. Do you understand?”

“Ah…… Yes. I understand.”

Really? Diego’s indifferent gaze seemed to ask that. When she nodded again, only then did Diego close his eyes. His face, where sharp and bold lines harmonized delicately, remained clean and unreadable as always.