“Would it be better to marry after the academy, then? Or during?”

Renato worked to keep his brow from creasing as he answered calmly.

“That’s something I’d need a little more time……”

“Oh, this man…… He’s too eager. Why not speak with the head of Trieste first?”

The count’s pushiness was starting to grate, but Countess Karolina stepped in with a well-timed mediation. A kind smile rested at the corner of her mouth.

Beneath the surface of an ordinary noblewoman, Karolina was no ordinary person. At a time when most of the aristocracy was struggling to stay upright, she had managed public opinion in remarkable ways under her own direction. It was largely thanks to her that the Maldini family had kept their wealth and standing intact.

The meal, which had felt more like a reconnaissance exercise, finally ended, and he had a moment to breathe once he returned to the guest room.

He would have to endure weeks of this atmosphere. Renato felt as though he were trapped in a smoke-filled smoking room, chest tight. Even the cold wind coming through the open window did little to help.

At that same hour, Lisa was running back and forth clearing up after the kitchen.

Sorting through the food sent back from the family’s table was also her responsibility. There were other women working alongside her, but by the time the final washing up had to be done, Lisa was the only one left at the sink.

Only when night had fallen and even the embers in the stove had gone cold did she finally receive her meal. The leftovers had been piled together into a single bowl. Still, since it was a day the household had received a guest, the contents were better than usual.

She went to the corner of the food storage room and roused her brother. Raoul had spent the better part of half a day peeling onions and potatoes, and he let his ruined hands hang limp at his sides.

“You must be hungry.”

“……You too, sister.”

“Look. There’s even meat today.”

They washed their hands quickly and went outside. The kitchen was somewhere the mistress occasionally stopped by, so Raoul couldn’t eat there in peace. Their usual dining spot was the passage leading to the back courtyard. It was a little cold, but it had the advantage of a view outside.

They each took their bowl and perched on the windowsill. Raoul, guileless as ever, kept glancing at Lisa’s bowl to check she hadn’t given all the meat to him. Satisfied that they each had one piece, he picked up his spoon.

A familiar-looking boy passed by just then. The stable hand’s son. He was about the same age as Raoul but lived in an entirely different world, and he had been bullying Raoul freely and often.

“Hey, Raoul.”

He called out in a swaggering tone and waved, then knocked Raoul’s bowl clean out of his hands.

The wooden bowl arced through the air without resistance. The food Raoul hadn’t taken a single bite of scattered in all directions. Cooked carrots, the most plentiful thing in the bowl, flew like sparks. Corn salad that had been sitting in the stew broth ran down his trousers in a wet streak. The precious piece of meat was nowhere to be seen. The white bread he had been about to eat first, to keep it from getting soggy, had vanished from sight as well.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

The boy paid no attention to Lisa’s cry and sauntered away.

The space around them was a disaster in an instant. She was furious, trembling with it, stamping her feet, and yet in the middle of all of it her stomach was so empty it felt like a knife being driven into her side.

What was worse was Raoul, accepting the situation with a familiarity that was almost worse to witness. He swayed as though he might fall, picked up his bowl, and began gathering the carrot pieces rolling across the floor.

“Stop.”

Raoul picked up the second carrot and put it straight into his mouth.

“There’s no dirt on it.”

For the boy, hunger was more immediate than humiliation. Even his hollow eyes looked starved. The only thing he wanted was to fill his stomach as quickly as possible; every other feeling had been switched off.

She didn’t want anyone to see this. She was glancing around like a thief when she sensed a presence.

Through the hazy moonlight obscured by snow clouds, a pair of shoes appeared, gleaming with a deep black polish.

Her stomach, empty since the previous evening, let out a cry. She was afraid the unfamiliar guest would hear it.

Even as the knuckles gripping her skirt went white, her body betrayed her will. The wooden spoon and bowl only knocked together with a cheap, rattling sound.

Between Lisa and the guest, standing in his neatly pressed trousers, Raoul shuffled forward on his knees. He wandered about until he found a piece of bread and opened his mouth for it immediately. Blinded by food, he seemed unaware that someone was watching.

“Raoul, take this inside and eat.”

She swallowed past her parched throat and held out her own bowl. Raoul, finally getting to his feet, pulled his hand back and refused to take it.

“Sister……”

“I’ll handle things here.”

“No, I’m the one who dropped it.”

The boy, who didn’t know how to blame anyone else, was only sorry about taking his sister’s food.

The narrow passage for servants bore clear marks where sacks of ingredients had been dragged through. It was cleaned often enough, but with the door opening onto the back courtyard, a fine layer of dust had settled into every corner.

She could no longer stand watching Raoul scrape the floor like a stray dog. She made her voice stern.

“Go on.”

She pressed the bowl into his chapped hands, half by force. She narrowed her eyes and urged him along, and Raoul pushed through the door with a deflated look.

The creak of the hinges was like a cold winter wind. The thud of it closing sent up a small drift of dust. Only the thin moonlight seemed to bear witness to the sorry state of the narrow passage. Outside, the wind hummed and dead leaves drew horizontal lines through the air; inside, motes of dust carrying the pale moon swirled in slow circles.

The man’s shoe moved. One step, then another. With each step that brought him closer, the pores on the back of her neck prickled and rose. It was the humiliation of having her worst circumstances laid completely bare. By the time she could see the hair falling across his forehead, the distance had closed considerably, yet Lisa felt a gap between herself and this man that was vast, in terms of both station and feeling.

He leaned one shoulder against the window frame and crossed one foot loosely over the other. He looked at Lisa with a leisurely air, as though she were an interesting spectacle.

“Your meal…… are you going to continue?”

It felt as though all the blood in her body had drained to the floor. There was nothing here but scraps rolling on the ground. What was this man after?

A creeping unease made her keep her head down and look away, but the silence clung to her like something sticky and she finally raised her eyes. The shadowed hollows of his eyes and the sharp cut of his cheekbones made for an unsettling contrast.

Something deep inside her screamed.

Get away. This man is dangerous.

The skirt bunched in her cold hands grew more crumpled. The jaw that swallowed dryly trembled faintly. The voice she managed to produce was nothing like the firm tone she had used to send Raoul away; it crept out thin as a mosquito’s whine.

“No. I was about to clean up.”

The shadow of the man’s lips curved upward in a way that did not bode well.

“Rather starve than eat something off the floor?”

His tone was as offhand as someone watching a puppet show from the very back row.

She held her breath, at a loss for words, and something foul seemed to collect in her lungs. A warning bell rang in a corner of her mind.

The lower classes with nothing to their name might dig through refuse to eat, but the Maldini household was not that destitute. The scraps scattered across the passage were perfectly suited for gathering up and putting in the feed trough.

But he showed no sign of moving out of the way. His arms folded loosely, the broad chest beneath his jacket expanded in a way that was hard to ignore. His shirt, unbuttoned by a couple of buttons rather than fastened with a cravat, hung in a shape that was difficult to look at.

If she left the mess, there would be hell to pay in the morning. Locked in taut, motionless standoff, Lisa had no choice but to pick up Raoul’s bowl and begin collecting the scattered pieces of food.

What must she look like to him, crawling across the floor like this.

Like a worm, perhaps?

She had long thought she had flushed whatever self-respect she had down the drain, yet something clenched tight below her throat.