“I assume you know why you’re here, Miss Hailey Salmon. I am not so charitable as to take in a parasite that does nothing but consume food. Donations, after all, are best left to the temple.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

Hailey nodded as if she understood perfectly. After all, responding appropriately to a superior was—

“In that case, wouldn’t it be wise to fulfill your duties before chatting with the coachman? For example, by reading that book over there?”

Oh, no.

Hailey barely managed to suppress her dismay and replied calmly, “Yes, Your Grace.”

How did he even know she had spoken to Bill? There was no way this place had CCTV.

Maintaining her composed expression, Hailey walked forward at a measured pace. The plush carpet cushioned her footsteps, but each step toward the duke made her nape prickle with unease.

It wasn’t just the sharp gaze drilling into her. The memory of his furious voice and the cold aura surrounding him still lingered. She had no idea when that icy fury might turn on her.

Joey hadn’t done anything terribly wrong—she had simply been unlucky. If Hailey wanted to avoid the same fate, she had to ensure there was no room for error.

Keeping her expression neutral, she stepped up to the mahogany desk, its deep red-brown hue polished to a mirror-like sheen.

The desk was obsessively tidy. Pens were arranged in descending order of size, papers stacked flawlessly, and the glossy surface reflected her face.

Leaning back in his chair, the duke observed her intently with those merciless, silver eyes.

He was within arm’s reach. Without realizing it, Hailey held her breath.

“…….”

He was waiting for her to make a mistake out of fear. She, in turn, was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Their silent battle was like a clash between a spear and a shield.

Hailey slowly reached out and picked up the book on his desk. She glanced briefly around the room before heading toward the sofa.

She could practically feel the duke’s gaze following her, but she didn’t turn back.

Only after she sat down did his eyes finally shift away. He pulled a document from the top of the neatly stacked papers and began to read.

Hailey stole a sideways glance at him and exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. That was when she realized just how tense she had been.

Her palms were damp with sweat. She had nearly dropped the book. Fortunately, it had a leather cover.

Clearing her throat lightly, she opened to the first page. Then, in a voice neither too loud nor too soft, she began to read aloud in Santier, the foreign language flowing smoothly from her lips.

“The motionless train expelled a single passenger before resuming its journey. A thick cloud of steam enveloped the sky, and a sound like a beast’s cry gradually faded into the distance.”

Her tone was smoother than she had expected, despite her initial worries about sounding awkward.

“François pressed down his wind-tossed hat with one hand as he surveyed his surroundings. Beneath the brim, his dazzling blond hair swayed gently.

The dilapidated station lacked even a stationmaster. His elegant attire seemed completely out of place, and his expression twisted in distaste.

A rural town, thousands of miles from the city—this was where François had been sent under the guise of convalescence.

He had just taken his first step, yet the desolate landscape already felt suffocating. In truth, this ‘convalescence’ was nothing more than an excuse to exile a troublesome scoundrel.”

…Huh?

Just as a faint suspicion crept into her mind, Madam Mastis entered, carrying a tea set. If she found anything unusual about the scene, she didn’t show it. With her usual stiff demeanor, she performed her tasks without hesitation.

After pouring tea for the duke, she approached Hailey’s table and set down a warm cup.

Drip, drip.

The gentle sound of tea filling the cup intertwined with Hailey’s voice.

As she continued reading, Hailey glanced up and met Madam Mastis’s gaze, offering a subtle nod. The woman gave no response before exiting the room.

Hailey carefully brought the teacup to her lips.

“Ugh.”

The bitter tea assaulted her tongue.

As if waiting for this very moment, the duke’s disapproving gaze flicked toward her. Hastily, she dropped her eyes back to the page.

How much time had passed?

Gradually, Hailey’s expression shifted from neutral to subtly bewildered.

“She was unlike any woman he had ever known. Her soft brown hair swayed like the golden fields of wheat, her bright eyes sparkled with innocence, her cheeks flushed with a delicate blush, and her lips bloomed red like rose petals.

Ah…

François unconsciously let out a quiet gasp. She was bursting with life, like the scorching summer sun.

She laughed with all her heart, cried with all her heart, and raged with all her heart.

If all the women he had romanced before were dazzling jewels, she was a single wildflower blooming in the fields. A living flower, carrying the sweetest fragrance of them all.”

Finally, Hailey’s doubts solidified into certainty.

The book the duke had given her—without a doubt, it was a romance novel.

Slowly, she moved her lips without making a sound, sneaking a sideways glance at the duke.

With a feather pen in one hand, he was reading and signing the documents on the desk. His eyes were focused so intently that it seemed like he wasn’t even aware of Hailey’s voice.

Moreover, it didn’t seem likely that someone with his tough personality would be interested in a soft romance novel.

Every time Hailey stopped to drink tea or turn the pages, his sharp gaze would immediately come flying at her.

This, then, was a new form of harassment.

As Hailey flipped the page with a soft sound and bit her lip, she imagined the scene of noble children sitting here reading such embarrassing romance novels aloud.

The content became more and more explicit as the book neared its middle. She couldn’t help but sympathize with the noblewoman’s feelings who had run away after three days.

Having been raised as delicately as a greenhouse flower, she must have felt intense shame and humiliation.

Once again, the Duke’s personality was as nasty as it was malicious. Sometimes, it was cold and peculiar.

“François could not take his eyes off her plump lips. They were as red as a flower petal. Every time she spoke, her lips moved noisily.”

Hailey had resolved to remain quietly neutral, but a faint ripple stirred in her calm mind. This was a rigid class society. The Duke was a man at the pinnacle of power, and Hailey was far below him.

Moreover, in Aislin, a woman’s success was measured by how diligently she attended lessons for becoming a bride and eventually married well. In other words, it was best not to stand out.

The saying “The nail that sticks up gets hammered” didn’t come from nowhere. Hailey, who had been confident that she would gracefully leave if she were dismissed, furrowed her brow slightly.

The Duke wanted her to feel embarrassed or ashamed, or perhaps to be contemptuous or angry.

But unfortunately, Hailey hadn’t been raised in such a way that she would blush at this level of description.

How old am I? I know everything already.

She puckered her lips, as if making a decision, and her eyes sparkled. The next moment, various emotions began to infuse her voice. It was the scene where François realizes his love for the female lead, Marie.

Hailey recited the lines as if she were an actor on stage, dramatically.

“Oh! My God, let her turn and look at me. If you cannot, make me a gust of wind so I can gently caress her soft earlobe. Make me a ray of sunlight to stroke her cheek. Oh!”

Hailey suddenly raised one hand and gazed longingly at the air. Anyone could see she was in love.

“What are you doing?”

An immediately displeased voice came. Tayton slowly set down the pen he had been holding. Hailey nonchalantly turned her head and met his silver eyes.

“I’m reading a book.”

She gave him a confused look, as if asking why he was suddenly asking such a question, lightly shaking the book in her hand. She implied, “You haven’t forgotten what you instructed me to do, have you?”

The Duke stared at her in silence. Hailey blinked innocently and turned back to the book.

Her voice, filled with admiration, flowed from her lips. One hand was still reaching out into the air.

“Oh! No! Rather, make me a droplet of sweat trickling down her neck. It runs along her firm, milky skin, eventually falling on her luscious chest, then softly following the curve of her waist…”

“Enough.”