“……”

Hailey continued to stare at him, unable to sit or stand properly. It felt strange. Rather than finding satisfaction in witnessing the ill-tempered duke endure a cascade of insults, she felt an unexpected bitterness.

It dawned on her that Irene’s scorn had caused this reaction. Perhaps such disdain was nothing new to him—perhaps he had grown accustomed to it.

And at that moment, Hailey finally grasped the full weight of what it meant for him to be called “the cursed duke.”

Her disbelief didn’t change how others saw him. People feared and loathed him, calling him “the cursed duke,” a name that had clung to him for as long as anyone could remember.

He had grown used to the stares.

What must that feel like? To endure the metaphorical stones cast at him day after day?

Rumors, like aimless clouds, solidified over time into what people accepted as truth. The duke silently bore the burden of what might as well have been a divine punishment.

No matter how many years passed, such emotions would never dull or become familiar—just as the hole in her heart had never healed.

Hailey had learned to smile constantly, so much so that she’d earned the nickname “Poker Face.” It wasn’t because she was naturally cheerful, but because she didn’t know any other way to survive.

She had to be a good girl. Always smiling, always fulfilling her role. She had feared being abandoned by her grandfather if she dared to cry or throw a tantrum.

So, no matter how furious she felt, she kept smiling, clinging to her place. Otherwise, even that small corner of security might have been taken from her. She had long forgotten how to cry, but she didn’t regret it.

Hailey let out a quiet sigh, clutching the hem of her dress.

Suddenly, a question came to mind: why didn’t he ever remove his mask? If he did, wouldn’t all the rumors vanish like mist in the morning sun?

Why? What could he possibly be hiding under there? Scars from smallpox? Could such minor blemishes justify enduring the stigma of being “the cursed duke”?

Nonsense.

She felt an irresistible curiosity to see the face no one had ever laid eyes on. Just then—

“What is it?”

The duke, flipping through his documents, cast a detached glance in her direction. Hailey’s gaze was still fixed on him. When she didn’t respond, Tayton’s silver eyes narrowed slightly.

“How much longer will you stay there with your mouth shut, Miss Hailey Salmon? If you want to repair another part of the roof, you’ll need to work tirelessly—for the sake of Baron Salmon, of course.”

“…Yes, Your Grace.”

His sharp words remained unchanged, but Hailey’s spirit had waned. She sat back on the sofa and reopened her book.

“Isabella’s legacy is too extensive to fully enumerate, but among her most significant accomplishments was the opening of temples to commoners. Once the exclusive domain of nobles, the temples…”

As she read, an irritating thought surfaced, and her lips pouted unconsciously.

Couldn’t he be at least half as kind to her as he was to his fiancée? Was only his fiancée considered human while she was treated as less than that? It felt so unfair. Her lower lip jutted out in frustration.

****

“I thought my house was only plagued by freeloaders, but now we have rats as well? Bring it here! Immediately!”

The duke’s enraged roar reverberated throughout the mansion, startling even the most seasoned maids, who flinched in fear.

Hailey, who had been enjoying a rare moment of leisure while sipping tea in the drawing room, widened her eyes and rushed outside. The maids were already gathering in a circle at the bottom of the staircase.

They wore expressions of dread, accustomed to the duke’s bouts of fury that erupted sporadically like storms. Each time, someone would inevitably be dismissed in the aftermath.

As the tension mounted, Madam Mastis appeared, standing on the staircase above them. She scanned the gathered maids with a critical eye.

“Did anyone enter His Grace’s bedroom this afternoon?”

Her gaze swept across the faces of the maids huddled in the hall. Unaware of the context, no one dared to speak up, opting instead to exchange nervous glances.

An uneasy silence ensued, deepening the lines on Madam Mastis’s forehead. Her tone grew more severe.

“Did no one?”

The atmosphere grew even tenser. It was clear that getting involved wouldn’t end well.

The maids barely dared to breathe, doing their best to remain invisible.

Hailey slowly stepped backward and hid behind an Ionic column. Once she was out of Madam Mastis’s line of sight, a sigh of relief escaped her lips.

As long as it’s not me.

As Hailey muttered the same wish as the other maids, tucking her dress behind the column, Madam Mastis made a startling announcement in an even tone.

“The pocket watch the Duke left on his nightstand is missing.”

“!”

The maids collectively gasped. The meaning of her words was clear—there was a daring thief among them who had stolen the Duke’s pocket watch.

“Unless the pocket watch grew legs, someone must have taken it. I’ll ask one last time—did anyone enter the Duke’s bedroom?”

The silence that followed was as precarious as a midwinter lake. Outwardly calm, but ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

Then, hesitantly, Anna spoke up while glancing at Catherine.

“Well….”

Madam Mastis’s gaze shifted toward Anna, and the other maids turned to her with questioning eyes, as though asking what she was about to say.

“I saw Cassie coming out of the Duke’s bedroom earlier, ma’am.”

“Anna!”

Catherine immediately glared at Anna, her eyes blazing. Anna, pouting, raised her voice defensively.

“When I was cleaning the hallway, I saw you leave the Duke’s bedroom.”

“That’s not true, Madam Mastis!” Catherine denied it urgently. Madam Mastis turned to her with a stern expression.

“Are you saying Anna is lying?”

“It’s not a lie, ma’am. Jessie saw it too!” Anna exclaimed, looking indignant. Madam Mastis’s gaze slowly moved to Jessie, who looked startled but nodded reluctantly.

“Well, I… I did see it….”

Catherine cut in before Jessie could finish.

“Yes, I went into the bedroom, but it was only to bring in freshly laundered bedding. I didn’t steal anything!”

“It would be wise to speak honestly, Catherine. Lying will only make things worse.”

“I swear I didn’t do it, ma’am!”

Catherine’s voice cracked as her eyes reddened, but Madam Mastis’s expression remained unyielding. Turning back to Anna, she gave an order.

“Anna.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Search Cassie’s room with the others.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anna, holding her head high, responded confidently, puffing out her chest. Catherine clenched her lips tightly, glaring at Anna with a wounded expression.

“Go ahead, search all you want. You won’t find anything in my room.”

“Catherine.”

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Catherine looked up at Madam Mastis.

“…Yes, ma’am.”

“Follow me.”

With that, Madam Mastis turned on her heel. For a moment, Catherine’s face went pale. She knew where they were headed.

The Duke’s study.

Before the cursed Duke himself.

Catherine’s body stiffened as though turned to stone. When she didn’t move, Madam Mastis stopped in her tracks and looked back.

“What are you doing? Hurry up and follow me. Or do you intend to keep the Duke waiting?”

Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, forcing her legs to move. Her knees trembled as she gripped the banister for support. Slowly, she managed to take a step.

The other maids hurried off to search Catherine’s room.

“What on earth is going on?”

Hailey, who had been observing everything from behind the column, finally stepped into the now-empty hall. Her gaze held a bitter glint.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a twinge of satisfaction. Catherine had openly antagonized her, instigated the other maids to ostracize her, and was the ringleader of it all.

Now that Catherine was accused of theft, it felt like poetic justice—a consequence of her actions. The other maids likely felt the same way.

They disliked Catherine for her arrogance and relished her downfall. If the Duke’s pocket watch turned up in Catherine’s room, there would be no denying her guilt.

And yet, the lingering bitterness in Hailey’s chest came from Catherine’s face—her tearful, indignant expression. There was no hint of guilt in her eyes.

“What should I do?”

Hailey stood there for a moment, lost in thought, before scratching her head and heading toward the second floor.

As she walked down the familiar corridor, she stopped in front of a pair of double doors. The doors, white with golden handles, stood imposingly before her.

She hated getting involved in other people’s business. Hadn’t meddling once cost her her life? This time, she had resolved to live quietly, keeping her head down and her presence unnoticed.

But Catherine’s desperate face wouldn’t leave her mind.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Hailey reached for the door handle.

“This is why they say old habits die hard.”