Chapter 8.2

‘Why did I do that?’  

Michael lowered his head deeply. Disappointment, despondency, anger, and pity. Passion and indifference. As his mind, muddled with countless emotions and thoughts, began to clear, the truth gradually came into focus.  

Love me. Pay attention to me. Treat me specially.  

This wasn’t the first time he had heard such requests. In fact, he had heard them so often they felt almost cliché. He wasn’t so naive as to be flustered by such words, nor was he lacking the wit to deflect them with a light-hearted joke.  

Even a toddler could guess what kind of answer Andrea had wanted. If he had given her even a conventional response like “I’ll try,” he could have stopped her from leaving.  

And yet, the reason he had been unable to say anything, as if his tongue were tied, was simple. Andrea’s words had struck a nerve. Her seemingly resigned plea had pierced straight through to the core of Michael’s carefully hidden feelings.  

“Love…”  

Michael murmured the word quietly, his face pale. He ran a hand through his hair and lifted his head.  

The reason he hadn’t brushed off Andrea’s words as a light joke, the reason he had frozen and missed the chance to respond, was because his feelings weren’t a joke. The reason he hadn’t uttered a trite promise to try was because, deep down, he knew there was no need to try.  

“Love.”  

Michael’s voice carried more weight now. The word “love,” so simple and commonplace, felt strangely foreign. Like someone encountering an unfamiliar language for the first time, he repeated the word several times under his breath. Love, love, love.  

He had denied it for so long. Irritation, curiosity, simple physical attraction, pity, concern, jealousy, anger… He had given countless names to his feelings in an attempt to hide the truth. If not for Andrea’s words forcing him to confront his emotions, his denial might have continued indefinitely—perhaps even until his dying breath.  

To name this chaotic emotion “love,” to openly admit that he truly wanted her, felt like a declaration of defeat to Michael. It was as though he were tearing down the principles and standards he had built so carefully, handing over his vulnerabilities to Andrea like a leash. For someone like Michael, who had spent his life ruling over others, it was unfamiliar and disconcerting.  

“I… love Andrea.”  

Michael suddenly realized that all he had been doing was trying to cover the sky with his palm. The walls he had built were already cracked, and they had been slowly crumbling for a long time.  

Having come to terms with his feelings, Michael let out a hollow laugh. He had almost made the dumbest mistake in the world. But he didn’t feel it was too late. He didn’t even consider the possibility of losing her. He wasn’t worried about Andrea’s feelings changing or about her relationship with Earl Byron progressing.  

He had the power to break off the engagement between their families, and he was confident he could win Andrea back. It was an arrogant thought, but it wasn’t entirely baseless. Michael had always gotten what he wanted.  

“I’m not like that idiot who couldn’t go against his parents’ will and failed to protect the woman he loved or even his wife.”

Michael leaned back against the sofa. As he contemplated the tasks ahead, he murmured quietly to himself,  

“Step by step, one at a time. Starting with the most urgent.”  

***

“Miss! It’s done. I’ve succeeded.”  

Maria, who had skillfully managed the rough maids at the Marquis of Heathridge’s estate, demonstrated her abilities just as effectively at the Earl of Byron’s estate. With her characteristic affability, she gradually eased the wariness of the lower-ranking maids and began to approach Loren, the red-haired maid.  

As Andrea had suspected, Loren had been a maid who served the former wife, Mia, closely. Perhaps because of this, she was reluctant to open up to Maria, who now served the new fiancée. However, she couldn’t entirely resist the money that Maria discreetly slipped into her pocket. Eventually, Loren agreed to bring them the key to the basement. It had taken a full fifteen days to secure her cooperation.  

“I swear, I won’t say a word.” 

Loren emphasized, her eyes darting nervously down the empty corridor.  

“I really don’t know anything about this, alright? You promised.”  

“Yes, I promise.”  

Andrea, wrapped in a shawl, nodded, and only then did Loren pull out a jangling set of keys from her pocket. After fumbling for a moment, she managed to unlock the padlock with a click. Gesturing toward the door with her chin, she whispered,  

“Go on in. I don’t want to step inside myself…”  

Her brow furrowed slightly, as though recalling unpleasant memories. As Andrea took the lantern from her, she spoke,  

“This might take a while. You don’t need to wait; you can head back. I’ll return the key through Maria. Thank you for your help.”  

“Miss…”  

Loren hesitated as Andrea turned to leave.  

“I didn’t do this just for the money.”  

Andrea tilted her head slightly.  

“Then why?”  

“It wasn’t out of loyalty to you, nor was it out of a desire for revenge against the master.”  

“…”  

“I just didn’t want to regret it again. I didn’t want to carry the guilt.”  

Loren looked Andrea straight in the eyes as she spoke. There was no trace of hesitation in her gaze.  

“I’ve seen firsthand how the master’s secrets, hidden in this basement, can utterly destroy a person.”  

“…”  

“The choice is yours to make, but…” 

Loren took a sharp breath before continuing,  

“By asking for the key to the basement, I assume you’ve already uncovered some of what’s been going on.”  

“…”  

“The master left the estate yesterday, so he won’t be back for at least a week. There’s a house in Bern where he lived with… her. Whenever he visits that place, he usually stays for about ten days.”  

Andrea and Maria’s eyes widened slightly. Loren glanced between the two of them before taking a deep breath.  

“I just thought you should know. That’s all.”  

With a deep bow, Loren departed. Andrea and Maria exchanged a look and nodded at each other. Maria cautiously opened the door and stepped into the basement first. Upon seeing the room, she let out a short exclamation.  

“Wow.”  

Contrary to the shabby-looking door, the interior of the room was luxurious. The red carpet covering the floor and the gold ornaments scattered around made it appear even more extravagant than the reception room upstairs. In the center of the room stood a velvet sofa, with a table holding expensive bottles of liquor and an ashtray. It was unmistakably a space that someone actively used.  

“It seems true that the Earl spends quite a bit of time here.” 

Maria whispered, and Andrea nodded.  

“There’s no stale smell of old air. It’s well-maintained, too.”  

“I didn’t expect the space to be this large from the outside. There seems to be another room over there. Perhaps in that room…”  

Maria pointed toward a door in the corner. Andrea, as if drawn by an invisible force, took a step in that direction. Grasping the doorknob, she spoke,  

“Yes, that’s where traces of her must be.”  

Maria asked hesitantly,  

“Won’t it just unsettle you to see it? We’ve confirmed the basement’s existence, and Loren’s words already prove that what His Highness said is true…”  

“But we’ve come this far. I’ll feel better if I see it with my own eyes.”  

Taking a deep breath, Andrea carefully pushed the door open. With a creak, the wooden door emitted an eerie sound, revealing a hidden space. As Andrea stepped into what felt like Pandora’s box, her lips slowly parted.  

“This is…”  

She had thought she was prepared. She believed she already knew the truth and that nothing could surprise her anymore. But the sight before her left Andrea momentarily speechless.  

The room was filled with women’s clothing and belongings. None of the items appeared used. Rows of freshly pressed new clothes hung neatly in line, in a space that rivaled the size of a boutique. It was almost chilling. Shoes, bags, and all sorts of jewelry were displayed on shelves, gleaming under the light of the lantern.  

“…”  

Andrea reached out with trembling hands to touch the hem of a dress. The smooth texture of the fabric against her fingers made it clear that these were expensive items. Maria, who had approached her side, whispered fearfully, her voice trembling,  

“Miss, all these clothes… they’re…”  

“…”  

“They’re almost identical to the ones Earl Byron gave you as gifts. No, they’re exactly the same.”  

As Maria had pointed out, the dresses filling the room were all of a cute and lovely style. Just like the gifts Frederick had showered her with upon his return from his recent trip. She had dismissed it as his particular taste or his lack of judgment in choosing gifts. But the scene before her seemed to mock her naivety.  

Step by step, Andrea walked deeper into the dimly lit room, her footsteps echoing. Following the narrow path between the extravagant jewelry and dresses, she arrived at the centerpiece of the room.  

“…Ha.”  

A single massive painting covered one of the walls.