Sion had to be content with just these small things.

“Young lady, I’ve brought the poetry book you seemed to want.”

His prediction was correct again. When Sion placed the red-covered poetry book in front of Agate, her eyes, which had been fixed straight ahead, slowly rolled downward.

“If you need anything else, please let me know anytime.”

Sion rolled his already sweet baritone voice even more smoothly with a specially refined tone. It was an enchanting voice that could lull anyone into a deep sleep if he were to sing a lullaby.

Sion perfectly and quickly identified and accurately provided for the demands of his extremely difficult employer who never gave proper instructions. Though she was an employer of extreme difficulty, Sion even went so far as to elevate her trivial gestures that could hardly be called expressions to “words.”

It was almost like defending Agate, suggesting she wasn’t a troublesome employer.

“By the way… I’ve rarely seen anyone brushing the young lady’s hair… I wonder if there’s a specific reason.”

Stepping back, Sion whispered close to Kanna’s ear so only she could hear. Normally it would be impolite to ask such things, but for someone with his sense of order, he had already shown great restraint.

Agate’s disheveled hair truly aroused an urge in Sion—who had never brushed a woman’s hair—to grab a brush every time he saw it.

If she would allow him to touch that long, broom-like hair until it flowed like a Yorkshire terrier’s coat, he would surely feel the exhilaration of a blocked passage being cleared.

“Well… occasionally when the young lady seems to be having a good day, we watch for cues and she allows her hair to be brushed, but otherwise she hardly lets anyone touch her. Fortunately, she does permit bathing assistance when needed.”

Kanna whispered as if embarrassed about Agate not brushing her hair, as though it reflected on herself. It was fortunate that Kanna was Agate’s servant. She answered even these trivial and somewhat impolite questions with complete sincerity.

‘She’s truly a problematic young lady if ever there was one.’

Agate Irone was undoubtedly the most pathetic and hopeless woman among all the nobles, young and old, male and female, that Sion had ever seen. If she had refused bathing assistance as well, Sion would have swept up all the strongest perfumes in Ponten and sprayed them throughout the room as air fresheners.

No matter how good he was at manipulating people, he couldn’t personally wash the lady’s body.

For his successful swindling operations, Sion was extremely reluctant to participate in outside activities with his targets, even when forming close relationships with them. No matter how much he used aliases and fake identities, there was nothing good about having his face and name publicly known.

As a result, despite his many accomplishments, few nobles in society knew him, and no one knew his true identity.

This meant that Baron Herald from the southern region, who was swindled by his physician “Hugo,” and Count Charles from the northern region, who was swindled by his business partner “Billiet,” had no idea they were the same person. This was the secret to his perfect crimes so far.

For this reason, even Sion, who had rarely attended social events, knew well about House Irone, which was renowned in central high society. The Duke of Irone dominated the political world with power that could bring down even birds flying in the sky, and the wealth flowing through the ducal residence was said to be like a spring that never ran dry.

They were such a powerful family that one wrong move could ruin even non-existent three generations, and Sion had never even considered targeting them. Yet by sheer coincidence, while on the run, he had the fortune of meeting the ugly duckling of this great family.

No, “ugly duckling” was too generous a compliment. Who would believe that Agate’s surname was Irone just by looking at her pitiful state? Did the Duke even know what his eldest daughter, secluded in Ponten, looked like?

Unaware of Sion’s rude thoughts, Agate opened the poetry book he had brought her. She spent her days staring blankly outside, occasionally seeking poetry books or picture books. In truth, it was unclear whether she was looking outside because there was nothing else to focus on or if she was actually focusing on something specific.

She could only get books when the butler was present. When other maids who were busy with different tasks occasionally substituted for Agate’s care, they often missed all those small, insignificant physical cues and ended up doing nothing.

‘What on earth does that woman think about? Does she even think at all?’

Seeing the pages turn slowly, one by one over a long time, she did seem to be thinking something. Agate would read one poem, look at the sunlit garden for a moment, read another new poem, then look outside again, repeating this cycle for half the day.

To Sion, a thoroughly sensible human being, this was nothing short of bizarre. The more he observed her, the more she seemed like someone who belonged in a mental ward rather than a villa.

Sion had never seen a ghost, but if ghosts existed, he firmly believed they would look exactly like Agate. With her unfocused, empty eyes, dry skin without a trace of moisture, and cracked lips. It was amazing that she was alive and breathing.

The fact that her cheeks weren’t sunken to skeletal levels was probably thanks to the tearful efforts of the servants who forcibly provided her with at least some nourishment.

Like a doll made only to resemble a human in appearance, Agate’s expression—devoid of thought or emotion—was sinking endlessly into that bottomless abyss.

At first, even Sion, who had dismissed her sorrow as the whining of the privileged, inexplicably felt nauseated when looking at her emotionless face.

Agate never shed a single tear or frowned. Her face, like an unwavering plain, showed no muscular movement whatsoever. She had no expression. Yet anyone could see at a glance that she was buried in despair and loss, consumed by endless sorrow.

It was an unsettling question.

How, how could a person be so completely broken? It was disturbing even to contemplate whether this was what happened when someone forcibly stuffed all their unbearable sorrows inside themselves.

Eventually, Sion, lost in dark thoughts, unconsciously furrowed his brow, then startled at his own expression and quickly composed himself.

‘It’s almost as if I’m being infected by her depression and showing sympathy.’

If he hadn’t been penniless, he wouldn’t have given this unpleasant young lady and villa a second thought. Perhaps the heavens were giving him one last memory before he left the Kingdom of Bladen for good.

Sion adjusted his bow tie and whispered quietly to Kanna. It was basic courtesy not to disturb Agate’s reading.

“Miss Kanna, I’ll go check Dr. Barten’s next visiting schedule.”

Unlike maids, butlers didn’t need to stick close to their masters. It was better to go outside and be harassed by the other female servants.

‘I need to hurry. If I find something valuable, I’ll immediately arrange for a smuggling ship and escape this suffocating place before I go crazy too.’

Making up an excuse, Sion hastily left the room. Like someone who wanted to escape that place as quickly as possible, even for a moment.

* * *

Sion’s hasty exit from the room that day, which didn’t end with just an excuse but actually resulted in moving up Dr. Barten’s stretched-out regular visit to that very day, proved to be a masterstroke.

The timing perfectly coincided with Agate developing a high fever and Barten arriving at the villa as the sky darkened after finishing all his appointments.

“Dr. Barten, welcome! The young lady was fine earlier, but suddenly started developing a fever just before!”

Even Adollo, who was so stingy with praise one might suspect money leaked out when he complimented someone, now wore a face full of relief as he praised Sion.

Sion had forgotten something for the past few days: that Agate was physically frail. Her overwhelming appearance had momentarily made him think she was here to recuperate from mental exhaustion.

When the mansion’s owner fell ill and took to her bed with groans, the previously peaceful servants suddenly found themselves in a state of emergency. The servants efficiently carried out their respective duties without specific instructions, suggesting this wasn’t the first time the lady had fallen ill.