Chapter 68

“Secretary.”

At Estelle’s quiet call, Leon looked ahead.

“Thank you for helping yesterday.”

A subtle sense of closeness lingered between them, different from usual. Leon nodded and turned his attention back to the documents.

“Your neck… is it hurt? Because of me… I’m sorry.”

Estelle noticed the bruise on his neck. Leon rubbed his neck briefly and shrugged, as if it was nothing.

“It’s not like you choked me, Miss Estelle.”

“Not able to breathe…”

She gasped. He really had choked Leon. Estelle realized how furious the Duke had been.

He wanted to kill her so badly… She had left Leon to face him and hid herself.

“I’m sorry. The Duke must have mistaken me for someone else.”

“The name was the same.”

Leon pushed up his glasses.

“He called you Estelle, but the surname was different. He said Estelle Muhamot—could that be your maiden name, Miss Estelle Buchanan?”

“……”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just tend to ask what I’m curious about. Never mind.”

He didn’t ask Estelle anything further and dropped the matter.

“I thought you’d stay long. The assistant keeps changing, and adjusting to new people every time is a hassle. I need someone who stays.”

“Ah…”

“That’s all. Let’s not feel sorry for each other. I actually think it’s a gain. You’ll probably stay longer because you feel bad.”

He really meant it, and returned to work. His focus was so intense Estelle couldn’t break it.

Instead, she went to class, then bought snacks on her way back and left them on his desk.

Leon, who often skipped meals, glanced at her and ate all the sandwich she brought.

Estelle quietly gathered her work materials, still tense.

Today, Duke Giselleberg had arrived early and was in the director’s office at the end of the corridor.

“But Miss Estelle, is that how you always look?”

Suddenly, Leon frowned and stared at her.

“No… well, I haven’t really seen your face properly. But your jawline, cheekbones, ears… They look a bit different…”

Leon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Never mind. Why would your face suddenly change? Get back to work.”

“Yes.”

Estelle was startled by his sharpness but relieved.

‘The medicine is definitely working.’

The face-changing medicine was effective. She hadn’t changed a lot, but her appearance was more ordinary.

Her lips were fuller, her nose narrower and higher, her eyes rounder and her brow wider. It was enough that her old face was unrecognizable.

It was hard to believe she was the same person.

Then the aide entered.

“What’s the matter?”

“Sir Leon, you’ve lived in the capital a long time, right? I need your help.”

The aide hurriedly handed him a memo.

“We need to get a ring like this, but the Duke is short on time and wants it fast. It’s hard to find a maker who can satisfy him and work quickly.”

He looked anxious, pressing his forehead.

“If you know any good designers in the capital, could you recommend one?”

Estelle listened quietly.

The ring Duke Giselleberg wanted was probably for his wife, Lumiere. Estelle glanced at the calendar on the desk.

Typically, after an engagement, marriage follows in a few months, so now or next month was likely their anniversary.

“A women’s ring? The requirements are strict. Designers probably refused because of that.”

“Yes, price doesn’t matter, but he wants it immediately. He demanded a ring dazzling enough to enchant the eyes. He said it must be a ring to captivate a woman with artistic taste.”

The aide was sweating.

Estelle felt reassured. It seemed he was having a good marriage with Lumiere.

If things were bad, he wouldn’t order such a gift.

She thought maybe he was preparing it hastily, but Lumiere would be satisfied with an expensive present.

Thankfully, yesterday’s incident had passed without trouble.

Estelle adjusted her thick glasses.

“Miss Buchanan?”

Suddenly the aide called her. He approached, handing her a memo.

“Could you tell His Grace I’ll go see the designer myself?”

“……”

Estelle quietly pressed her lips, but the aide’s expression was so desperate.

Stories said Duke Theodore Giselleberg’s temper was very sharp. The man she remembered seemed different now.

So it made sense the aide, who had been scolded, hesitated to speak to him.

“I don’t think it’s a job I should do. I can’t just enter the director’s office.”

“The Duke knows you work here. He won’t be upset if you just deliver a message.”

“It’s still difficult.”

“In exchange, you don’t need to come in tomorrow. You’ll still get your daily wage.”

* * *

His thick fingertips were worn smooth.

He held Estelle’s painting and stroked the canvas as if caressing her face.

Her signature was a star. Even in this painting, presumed to be from childhood, there was a star-shaped signature.

“…I knew the meaning of your name even before I taught you to write.”

The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the painting. Once, while stroking a piece like this, he felt something and tore the canvas.

Between the layers of fabric, there was money.

Long ago, he tracked down Estelle’s friend, Katie. She asked him instead: Had Estelle disappeared? Where had she gone?

The money found in the canvas, she said, was probably meant for Estelle’s dream. But she remarked it was odd that there was so little.

He learned that Estelle had given money to Lumiere Muhamot—some of what she’d saved her whole life.

Why did she do so much for him?

All he’d given her was a medicine, telling her to change her face because he hated seeing Lumiere’s identical features.

“Ugh.”

A self-deprecating groan escaped.

When he returned injured, he once tried to end this shameful life. But now, that wasn’t shame.

Failing to recognize his woman and pushing her away was the worst shame.

Theodore had seen it yesterday.

He had seen Estelle Muhamot with his own eyes.

Silver hair, shining brightly. Her figure, the cool scent of greenery. And his heart responding hotly.

He placed his hand on his chest, curling his fingers as if grasping his heart. The heart beneath this skin reacted to her.

It couldn’t be an illusion. He didn’t want to accept that, so he quit drinking. Estelle Muhamot was definitely nearby.

Yesterday, she only ran away because she hated him. Theodore erased the idea that he’d seen a mirage.

He lit a cigarette.

Breathing in, his chest rose. Estelle’s face blurred. More than that, her voice faded.

When he smoked, her image lingered longer. Her voice, the touch that caressed him, whispered words, resentful words, shouted words, words that said she hated him, every word.

But they all sounded like Estelle’s voice.

Theodore, steeped in misty illusions, called for Estelle. Was there only one chance? Would she never appear again?

Could he not earn that much mercy? If she was the woman he knew, she might visit him at least once.

He breathed in to see her painting, lost in thought and exhaling smoke.

Theodore’s deeply sunken eyes flashed quietly.

‘Wouldn’t my news reach her?’

Estelle was a gentle, kind woman. He thought it didn’t matter if she came to him with hatred. Even if it was pity or mockery, it was fine.

Ah, why only now?

Theodore watched the burning tobacco. The temperature of the burning leaf was hot. He held it and stared.

If he spread this and went blind, she’d come.

She’d come quickly.

She wouldn’t hide anymore. He’d make it news immediately. Duke Giselleberg can’t see anymore.

The hot ashes in his palm were already cooling from his body heat. There was no time.

“Stop!”

Someone shouted, scattering the tobacco leaves to the floor with a fist.

A thin, trembling arm.

…a woman’s hand.