Chapter 1: The Berkshire Family Became Her Lifeline Part 6

Should I greet him the same as always? Would asking after his well-being be too presumptuous? Maybe if I thanked him again…

Marien felt even more tense than the day before, her neck and shoulders stiff with nervousness. Even while stepping on the laundry, her gaze would occasionally drift into the distance.

By this time, Tamilan Berkshire should have been resting on the long stone bench—but not a trace of him was visible.

Is he not coming today? Or… is it because of what happened yesterday?

The kindness Tamilan had shown her was pleasant for Marien, but she realized it might have been a nuisance for him.

A heavy sigh slipped from her lips. She wasn’t sure why she had thought she could keep seeing him.

According to the maids, he was an exceptionally busy man, so there was no guarantee he would rest at the same time every day.

Though she hoped he might appear the next day, and the day after that, Tamilan did not show.

Her once-tense shoulders slumped downward.

“…At least today, I might get to rest properly.”

Perhaps because the estate’s renovations were nearing completion, the workload gradually decreased, allowing her to finish before dusk.

After hanging the last of the laundry, Marien turned toward the training ground, but the scene she had hoped for was nowhere to be found.

Having given up her attachment to seeing Tamilan, she turned in the opposite direction.

The path home led through a garden bathed in the warm orange of the setting sun.

As she strolled slowly, admiring the garden, Marien picked up a red flower that had fallen at her feet.

The gardener she had met a few days prior had told her it was called an anemone.

It was a flower that was almost gone, with only a few petals left.

Marien gazed seriously at the anemone.

“…….”

After confirming no one was around, she took a deep breath and plucked one of its petals.

“He didn’t like me…”

She plucked another.

“He was busy…”

Petals from the anemone began to scatter around her.

“He didn’t like me, he was busy, he didn’t like me, he was busy. Ah…”

Just as she glared resentfully at the final remaining petal, Marien heard a faint sound and was startled, glancing around in surprise.

She had been so focused that even a distant sound felt nearby. Feeling strangely embarrassed, Marien lowered her gaze and hurriedly tried to leave the spot—only to come to a sudden halt.

On the garden’s dirt path, Marien noticed something that looked like a bloodstain seeping into the soil.

Crouching down, she rubbed her fingers over the ground and brought them to her nose.

The sharp metallic scent confirmed it—blood.

Why is there blood in the garden…?

Could it be connected to the faint sound she had heard earlier?

Her heart sank with dread as the thought that someone might be hurt struck her.

A rough breath escaped her lips, and the image of her mother coughing up blood resurfaced vividly in her mind. The memory she wished to suppress crept in, and her palms turned clammy with cold sweat.

Anxious, Marien followed the faint traces of blood along the ground. The only person who came to mind who might be injured was the gardener.

Her frantic search for the blood trail led her to the glass conservatory at the center of the garden.

Just as she was about to enter, she hesitated.

Peering through the slightly open door, she saw something entirely unexpected.

She had assumed it would be the gardener, but inside was none other than Young Master Tamilan.

His shirt sleeve near the forearm was torn and tattered, revealing a glimpse of a deep wound.

Tamilan had removed his coat and was seated near a table, tearing at his damaged shirt while muttering quietly,

“Don’t just stand there—come out.”

“Um… It’s me, young master,” Marien stammered as she stepped hesitantly into the conservatory.

“Why are you here…?”

Tamilan, who had been inspecting his wound, raised a brow in surprise at the unexpected figure. He had assumed it was a squire trailing after him.

Marien Reed. Her presence here was far from welcome—just like anyone’s at that moment.

“I… I saw the blood on the ground and followed it. Young master, what happened to you? Where did you get such a deep wound…?”

“Don’t concern yourself. More importantly, you—”

The maid’s expression, filled with shock at his injury, seemed on the verge of fainting.

Her face turned pale, as lifeless as a doll’s.

For a maid accustomed to the repetitive routines inside the manor, the sight of such a wound was intensely jarring. Even for Tamilan himself, this was the first time he had sustained such a severe laceration.

No, it was rare for him to be injured at all, so rather than the pain, he felt more frustration at the absurdity of the situation.

The fact that it wasn’t caused by a sword but by a wild animal—some sort of wolf—only added to his simmering anger.

Resolving to send her away, Tamilan spoke in a deliberately firm tone.

“I was just injured while hunting. Now, leave—”

“Young master, please wait just a moment! Just a moment!”

Though she seemed on the verge of collapsing herself, Marien boldly cut him off. Not only that—she left the glasshouse without even waiting for his response, practically ordering him.

“…….”

Her actions were impudent, but Tamilan didn’t get angry. He could guess why she was acting this way.

Still, she should have minded her own business and left.

Tamilan roughly bandaged his wound with the torn remnants of his shirt, taking care not to aggravate it.

He had no intention of waiting for Marien Reed.

If she returned with the butler or the household physician, it would be troublesome. He had planned to treat the wound himself in the greenhouse and then return inside, but now that was impossible.

He stood up, gathering his coat and personal belongings.

***

Just as when Lisa had been injured, Marien’s mind was consumed with one thought: she had to treat Young Master Tamilan’s wound quickly.

Because of that, when Lisa asked where she was going, Marien couldn’t even answer properly. She simply grabbed the wooden box of medical supplies and ran out.

But by the time she arrived at the glasshouse, panting, he was already gone.

Marien searched the ground for bloodstains, but there were no more traces of bleeding.

It seemed unlikely that he could have treated the wound on his own in that short time, and Marien’s eyes brimmed with tears.

The hand holding the wooden box grew cold. Then, as if realizing something, Marien hurriedly left the glasshouse.

Somehow, Marien felt she knew exactly where Tamilan might be.

Feeling as if she were drawn there, she kept running, her chest heaving with gasps as she clutched the precious wooden box tightly against her chest.

“Ah…”

As dusk settled over the estate, she found him where she had expected: in the familiar laundry yard, reclining against the long stone bench—the resting spot she had always longed to see him in.

When Tamilan saw her approach, he let out a sigh that sounded like resignation and slouched languidly against the bench’s backrest.

Ah, Marien Reed. Of course she knew about this place.

Had it been just her alone, he wouldn’t have minded. Still, he couldn’t help but think how persistent she was, a cold smile flickering inwardly.

Thinking back, this maid had always defied his expectations.

From the grand introduction she had given when he’d impatiently demanded her name, to the way she had stumbled and fallen in surprise at seeing him there, despite sharing the same space for several days….

Perhaps her innocence was what led to these unpredictable situations.

Nearby, the training ground would have ample emergency supplies, and Haint, the captain of the knights, should still be there.

Tamilan had intended to quietly ask Haint for help with his wound, but extreme fatigue had set in, making it hard to move.

If any remaining knights saw him in such a state, rumors would undoubtedly spread, so he had planned to rest briefly and then slip away.

As his thoughts tangled and spiraled, Tamilan realized why his body felt so heavy, as if it were about to collapse. He must have lost more blood than he’d thought.

It wasn’t as though he had ever been this injured before.

As he recalled the wolves that had wounded him, his expression twisted with frustration once more.

“Young master Tamilan.”

“…….”

Catching her breath a little distance away, Marien cautiously approached to check his condition.

He was wearing his coat to conceal the wound, but it was clear he hadn’t treated it properly.

“Let me treat you,” Marien pleaded softly.

Tamilan gazed at her silently. He could simply ignore her, but seeing how she had chased him all this way, it was unlikely she would just leave.

He was about to tell her to stop interfering and go when he noticed her hands trembling slightly, and his brows furrowed.

“Please, let me treat you, young master.”

“You want to treat me?”

The image of her pale, stricken face when she saw his wound in the conservatory flashed through his mind, making it hard to expect anything resembling proper treatment from her.

“Yes. It won’t take long,” she insisted.

Perhaps because she had run here breathlessly, her cheeks were flushed. Tamilan stared at the wooden box she clutched, then, as if conceding, shrugged off his coat.

Once the coat was removed, the shirt he had used to loosely bind his wound was soaked with blood.

As she carefully peeled back the bloodied shirt, Marien bit her lip. The sight was gruesome and disordered, and even Tamilan sighed quietly at the mess.

He didn’t want the rumors of him being injured on a simple hunt to reach his older brother’s ears. Even more so, he couldn’t let his mother know. Her frail health meant any worry might be catastrophic for her.

“If only I had some alcohol…,” Marien murmured as she inspected the wound, realizing she hadn’t been able to bring any from the kitchen in her haste.

Tamilan rifled through his belongings.

“Here,” he said, pulling a small, flat flask from his pocket and handing it to her.

“That’s a relief. I couldn’t bring any in the rush,” Marien said, her face brightening as she accepted the flask.

Tamilan looked at her with a curious expression as she opened it. The sharp scent of distilled liquor immediately filled the air.

“Mmm…”

As Marien closely examined the wound, she swallowed hard.

The gash on his forearm was deep and jagged, almost as if it had been ripped open by an animal. The skin was torn in a way that suggested gnawing or biting.

Where in the world did such a wound come from?

It looked so brutal and ragged, she couldn’t imagine it healing without leaving a scar.

A scar on the young master’s arm…

Only then did Marien remember the physician, and she bit her lip.

No matter how distracted she was, how could she forget to inform Lisa or anyone else before running off? This wasn’t like the secluded cottage—there were others here to turn to.

She hadn’t even thought to report to the head maid, to request that the physician be sent for.

While she could manage basic first aid, preparing the right herbs for proper treatment wasn’t within her authority.