Aaron coldly dismissed her, wiped his mouth, pushed back his chair, and stood up.

“He asked to see you alone, so the butler will escort you after dinner.”

“Just me alone?”

“Yes. I’ll be going now.”

His footsteps spread heavily across the floor.

The two maids who had kept their eyes lowered until Aaron left glanced at Lucilia. Through their mouths, word of the couple’s strained relationship would spread.

Hadn’t she already experienced how quickly rumors travel?

With no way to stop it and no will to try, Lucilia swallowed her discomfort. As long as Aaron’s attitude remained unchanged, there was no way to prevent the rumors.

Thinking of the Baron waiting for her, she instructed the maid:

“Go and call the butler.”

“…Yes.”

One of them nudged the other with her elbow, and the second reluctantly answered before leaving the dining room.

Meanwhile, Lucilia stared at the remaining maid who stood blankly.

“Would you pour me more water?”

The maid approached awkwardly and filled the glass.

Perhaps she felt an urge to peer into the disgraced saint’s pitiful emotions? The maid daringly glanced at Lucilia.

Though one might be reluctant to look into the eyes of an alleged witch, she didn’t avoid them.

In that brief moment when their eyes met, the maid’s cunning thoughts transferred clearly.

‘Who does she think she is, setting her sights on our young master?’

It was a disrespectful thought no one would dare harbor toward a saint. The fact that she thought it so readily without caution showed how angry she was about this witch’s presence.

Indeed, gossips could find no more exciting topic than this.

While curiosity about stimulating subjects might be harmless when concerning strangers, it was infuriating when involving one’s master.

As she was self-deprecating while watching the transparent stream of water, it happened.

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

The glass wasn’t even overflowing.

Lucilia shook off the water flowing over the back of her hand and looked up.

When she raised her gaze, the maid looked straight into her eyes while verbally acknowledging her mistake with feigned docility.

“My hand slipped and I made a mistake. I’m truly sorry.”

‘You’re not even a saint anymore, what can you do to me? No one will take your side. Even our young master treats you like you don’t exist.’

The moment she was disrespected even by a maid, her patience snapped.

Aaron had valid reasons to reject her, but this girl was different. No matter how upset she was, this was no way to behave toward someone of higher status.

She was still the Marquis’s daughter and the young lord’s fiancée.

The girl might grumble that she hadn’t openly insulted her, but this needed to be addressed.

While Lucilia was making her decision, another blatant mockery seeped through.

‘See? She can’t say anything.’

Faced with such bold defiance, she couldn’t help but feel self-deprecating.

Because the changed situation felt so real.

Because it kept making her reach back to the past.

Before, everyone trembled with fear of having their thoughts exposed. After only ever seeing people display extreme tension, meeting someone who so transparently revealed their thoughts was bewildering.

She could lower herself before the Baron and Aaron with an apologetic heart. But this girl’s behavior, showing no respect for hierarchy, was absolutely intolerable.

Lucilia didn’t get excited.

Her plump lips opened prettily like a red flower bud.

“What is your name?”

“Me?”

“There’s no one here but you and me.”

“…Bessie Haroli.”

“Though I may no longer be a saint, I can still perceive your arrogance. Perhaps no one will take my side. But one thing remains unchanged.”

Only then did Bessie feel fear and gulped. Her sneering expression vanished as if from a distant past, and she completely froze.

Her bold attitude of meeting Lucilia’s gaze directly reversed, and now she only stared at the floor.

“I have acquired a new status as the young lord’s fiancée. Despising me is the same as despising the young master you respect.”

Her voice, devoid of anger, exerted strong power.

But knowing she would receive punishment proportional to her confession of guilt, Bessie defensively denied everything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did I make some mistake?”

“Denial isn’t always the best strategy. Prostrating yourself would be much more effective at softening the other person’s heart.”

Lucilia rose from her seat, walked around the corner of the table, and strode forward.

As soon as the distance closed, she gave Bessie no chance to escape and lifted her chin.

Bessie’s pupils trembled anxiously, but she desperately avoided eye contact. Regardless, Lucilia informed her of reality in a stern tone.

“One more thing. The fact that my father is the Marquis of Caldman in this country also remains unchanged. So if you don’t want to hasten your death, you should first correct your attitude.”

“…”

“Answer me.”

“I-I understand. I’ll be c-careful.”

Bessie’s lips trembled.

Lucilia released Bessie’s chin and left the dining room.

Though it was the maid who trembled like an aspen tree, Lucilia’s hand quivered with spasms.

Wasn’t her behavior toward the maid just now truly violent?

She had made threats and even intimidated her with the possibility of death.

Never in her life had she held a knife to someone’s throat or harbored such evil thoughts.

Had she truly become a witch since fleeing the monastery?

It seemed the saying “the position makes the person” applied to her as well.

She was terrified at the thought that she might have been the most benevolent person in the world as a saint, but after becoming labeled a witch, she was now freely expressing malicious intent.

Lucilia shook her head vigorously to dispel the terrible hypothesis.

Hans approached with quick steps from across the corridor.

She composed her expression neatly to avoid revealing her guilt.

“You called for me?”

“I heard the Baron is waiting. Would you guide me?”

“Yes, I’ll escort you this way.”

She couldn’t detect any particular wariness in Hans’s expression or actions.

His businesslike attitude actually added a sense of stability to her mind. Whatever he might think inside, outwardly he maintained the proper hierarchy as if it were natural.

If only other servants would treat her like Hans, she would have nothing more to wish for.

Lucilia moved her legs diligently while watching the back of the butler’s graying head.

* * *

The Baron’s bedroom was filled with the scent of herbs.

Karen had mentioned that he had been bedridden with heart disease for two years.

Due to his restricted activity, he had naturally lost weight and looked very emaciated at first glance.

From the moment she entered the bedroom, the Baron had been watching Lucilia while leaning his upper body against a large pillow.

As she approached him, the air between them grew increasingly tense.

Lucilia slightly bent her knees and bowed her head.

“Lucilia Teneri greets the Baron.”

“Soon you will be using the Artnal family name. I hear you are to marry my son?”

His voice, barely squeezing through his vocal cords, was terribly cracked. Yet he spoke without breaking his sentence.

The sense of fortitude she felt was not an illusion.

The Baron looked directly at Lucilia with cloudy eyes, conveying his intention to speak his mind without reservation.

“It has been a long time since I last saw you, my lady. Your youthful face is still vivid in my memory. Even as a child, I thought your mysterious eyes were clearly different from others.”

“I see. I also remember the day we first met.”

“Back then, I was nothing more than a merchant who had rolled around marketplaces and accumulated some money.”

The Baron’s cloudy eyes seemed to be pinpointing a moment in the past.

It was the day when Welber Artnal, a fallen nobleman, swore allegiance to the Marquis.

After Aaron’s grandfather, the previous Baron, was branded a traitor and stripped of his title, the family had lived a difficult life.

Still, unable to let his mouth be covered in cobwebs, he swallowed his pride and did whatever work came his way, from trading to mercenary work.

This allowed him to accumulate wealth, all of which he offered to Marquis Teneri to buy his title. The oath of allegiance was a natural consequence.

The Artnal family, who became nobility through the Marquis’s help, was bound by this oath of allegiance and ultimately became the sacrificial lamb for this absurd marriage.

The Baron was recalling the past and bringing up the dependent relationship that had driven them to this predicament.

In this situation, all she could do was reassure the Baron to prevent his health from deteriorating further.

“I promise you this. I will behave properly to ensure no harm comes to the Artnal family.”

“Can that really be accomplished by one person’s will alone? Living has taught me that nothing is as reckless as human plans.”

A heavy silence divided them.

The Baron was silent, ruminating on the unjust reality, while Lucilia lamented the bleak future she couldn’t see.

Eventually, the Baron put strength into his neck and straightened his upper body. Labored breaths scraped through his parched throat.

Unlike his barely connected voice from earlier, he spoke with a tone that conveyed strength as he made his request:

“Do not display your abilities here. I am not interested in them.”