The next day.

Uncharacteristically diligent, Caleb paid an early visit to the Bowell Ducal Estate.

“Welcome, Lord Lionel.”

“Your Grace.”

His manners were flawless, his demeanor impeccable. The duke smiled with satisfaction and gestured for Caleb to take a seat.

‘They say Croatans have muscles for brains, but I was worried for nothing. A young man like him is flawless—family name, appearance, everything.’

Duke Bowell narrowed his eyes and assessed the young man sitting across from him. The only flaw was the harsh, barren land of Cliff, the territory he would inherit.

‘And his proximity to the royal succession? He’s the perfect match for Fabiola in every way. Of course, the position of grand duchess was always meant for Fabiola.’

Caleb noticed the duke’s scrutinizing gaze. Judging by the victorious expression on his face, Caleb could tell he had made a good impression.

‘Good. I’ll be able to secure a generous supply of potions.’

If not for the potions, Caleb would never have stepped foot in Hestian lands or forged ties with the Bowell family. Unfortunately, he needed to swallow his pride for this request.

‘Hestian potions are always the best.’

Knock, knock.

A polite knock on the door was followed by the entrance of the head steward, who bowed deeply.

“Your Grace, Lady Fabiola has arrived.”

“Show her in.”

“Yes, my lady, please enter.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Fabiola, the Duke’s daughter, entered the room.

“Come in, Fabiola.”

“Father.”

The young lady gave a slight curtsy to the duke before walking gracefully to stand in front of Caleb.

‘So this is the cousin… Quite different from what I expected.’

Caleb studied the young woman before him. Her auburn hair matched the reddish hue of her eyes. With her small, pale face and slender frame, she had the potential to grow into a beauty.

“Lady Fabiola.”

Caleb rose from his seat and knelt before her. This was the first time young Fabiola had ever received such deference.

“…!”

“I am Caleb Lionel of Cliff.”

He softly kissed her outstretched hand, and her face instantly flushed red.

Watching her reaction up close, Caleb felt a deep sense of self-loathing.

‘This is nothing short of a clown show.’

Being in a position where he had to flatter and sweet-talk rather than wield a sword was unbearable. He’d much rather be on a battlefield.

‘…What if it had been that girl?’

For a fleeting moment, Caleb thought of the blonde-haired girl trembling in his arms.

***

The girl who had once been Astrid Bowell.

Once called the “Bowell’s Jewel” and adored by many, the young noblewoman had returned—her hair unevenly chopped, her body emaciated, and her appearance pitiful.

‘I never thought I’d return here…’

Astrid gazed at the familiar sight of the Bowell estate she had been born and raised in. Though she could picture it perfectly in her mind, something about it now felt unfamiliar.

Was it because the endlessly benevolent father and the ever-kind servants were no longer there? The atmosphere of the mansion that welcomed Astrid upon her return was chillingly cold.

“Hey! Move quickly, will you? Why are you so slow? How are you supposed to be of any use like this?”

Astrid flinched at the loud voice piercing her ears. It was the servant assigned to guide her to the annex where she would stay before heading to the monastery.

This man wasn’t someone she had seen when she lived in the Bowell family. He seemed to be a new hire brought in after her uncle succeeded as the Duke.

Rumors had reached her ears: her nursemaid, maidservants, footmen, and even the gardener—her uncle had chased away every single servant from before.

‘…Should I be relieved? At least they don’t have to see me like this.’

Astrid clutched the bundle of her belongings tightly to her chest. The servant, noticing this, let out a sneering chuckle.

“This girl used to be the young lady of the ducal family? Tch. Look at that hair—looks like rats gnawed on it. And she’s as scrawny as a starved stray horse. Nothing like our Lady Fabiola.”

The man’s contemptuous gaze swept over Astrid from head to toe. Her shabby tunic and trousers made it hard to believe she was of noble birth.

Realizing his eyes were fixed on her threadbare clothing, Astrid’s pale cheeks flushed red. She had been sent to Bowell in haste, before even having the chance to wash and dry her stained mourning dress.

As she hurried along under the servant’s urging, the last conversation she had with the head maid surfaced in her mind.

“Since the Count has returned to God’s embrace, your ties with the main branch of the Count’s family end here. Thankfully, the Duke of Bowell has agreed to take you in, so you may stay there until you are sent to the monastery. I hope you spend your remaining days in penance and live a life of atonement before God.”

“…I heard you lost your first husband early on as well,” Astrid had said.

“Pardon?”

“I heard you avoided being sent to the monastery by remarrying the head steward of the Count’s household. Isn’t that true?”

“Lady Astrid! What are you implying—!”

“Oh, nothing. People’s lives are unpredictable, that’s all. That’s all I wanted to say. Goodbye.”

Astrid let out a small sigh.

‘If I can’t even endure this small humiliation… I still have a long way to go.’

She thought she had let everything go, but now she felt embarrassed for letting her pride get the better of her with the head maid.

She despised herself for still clinging to the time when she was happy under her father’s protection, when she was the young lady of Bowell.

“Why? Don’t like the annex? You should be grateful that the Duke even gave you this place! Once you’re at the monastery, your lodging and food will be far worse. Better start getting used to it now, don’t you think?”

The servant’s grating voice pulled As back to reality from her wandering thoughts.

“I…”

Before she could respond—

“Anyway! You’re under strict orders not to step a foot outside this annex. If you disobey, I’ll be the one punished, and I won’t let you off easy if that happens.”

The man cut her off, growling in a threatening tone.

“…Understood.”

Astrid nodded quietly, her response making the servant’s eyes glint with barely concealed glee.

“What does it matter if she used to be a young lady? She’s doomed to rot away in a monastery for the rest of her life. At least she knows her place.”

Smirking, the man tossed something at her.

“…Ah!”

“A rag! Clean the place up. It’s just you and me here, so you better pull your weight. If you’re human and not an animal, that’s the least you can do! Think about the Duke’s generosity in taking in a widowed niece and work hard!”

After tossing her the filthy cloth, the man stormed out, leaving her alone at last. Only then did the tension leave Astrid’s body, and she collapsed onto the floor.

“…You did well, Astrid.”

Pride? What good was that anymore?

During the atonement ceremony, she had held a symbolic funeral for Astrid Bowell.

Her only goal now was to spend a quiet, uneventful week here before moving to the monastery. To achieve that, she had to avoid causing any trouble while staying on Bowell grounds.

But the very act of stepping onto Bowell soil was harder than she had anticipated.

Every blade of grass, every tree, every piece of décor—there wasn’t a single thing that didn’t hold memories for her.

She was now in an old annex that had been unused for years. Situated far from the main house, it was once the quarters for outdoor staff like stable hands and gardeners.

Although abandoned after a new annex was built, Astrid had spent much of her childhood there.

She remembered planting trees with the old gardener and feeding horses with the stable hand.

Wave after wave of memories flooded her mind, stirring her heart despite her attempts to remain stoic.

‘Stop this pointless nonsense. What’s the use of remembering? It only hurts me.’

Astrid carefully unwrapped the single bundle she had brought from the Count’s house, she then set to cleaning the spacious, two-story annex.

She had never done manual labor, not even in the Count’s house where she had been neglected. Naturally, she was clumsy and slow.

She couldn’t make it shine like the maids once had, but she put all her effort into the task. By the time she finished, it was already evening.

Growl.

“…Oh.”

Embarrassed, Astrid clutched her empty stomach. During the week she had spent at the Count’s house, she had never felt true hunger.

She had only eaten enough to sustain herself, and after the atonement ceremony, she had been too ill with fever to eat properly.

Unbeknownst to her, it was only the lingering effects of a potion keeping her body functioning. She was simply bewildered by the sudden pangs of hunger.

The physical labor had drained what little energy she had left. She wished she could eat something, but the servant who had abandoned Astrid before leaving hadn’t yet returned.

“…Should I at least take a bath?”

Astrid wiped her sticky forehead with her hand. She hadn’t been able to bathe for several days. In the solemn atmosphere following the atonement ceremony and the funeral, asking for water to bathe was out of the question.

Sniff sniff.

Astrid lifted her sleeve and sniffed it. The musty smell made her neatly shaped forehead crease in distaste.

She had wiped herself down with a handkerchief soaked in wash water, but after hours of labor, the smell seemed to have worsened.

There was a large water jar in the kitchen, filled to the brim. Using a little wouldn’t be noticeable.

“Even if I can’t bathe, just washing myself a bit should be fine, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, Astrid made up her mind. She wanted to clean herself up, even if only a little, before the servant returned. If she could just wash, she felt she could muster the strength to endure another day.