Piiiii—!

The kettle let out a sharp whistle. Ian lifted it calmly and poured the boiling water into two teacups already filled with honey. Drizzle—

“It’s hot, so drink it slowly.”

“Thank you.”

It was a honey infusion meant to ease the hangover they’d both brought back from dinner.

Estella took her cup and sipped carefully. The warm sweetness coated her throat as Ian spoke again.

“You mentioned Casalin in southern Milla earlier… I assume that’s because it’s the region where that woman was most active.”

She swallowed another mouthful of the honey water.

“That’s right.”

The liquid burned slightly as it went down too fast. Noticing, Ian poured her a glass of cool water.

“I told you to drink slowly.”

“I know.”

She murmured, taking the glass with a faint smile. After a few more unhurried sips of the honey water, Estella set her cup down.

“Do you… actually believe what I said?”

Leaning casually against the edge of the table, Ian took a slow sip from his own cup. One hand rested in his pocket; the other held the glass loosely.

“Should I not?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You kept asking.”

“…….”

Well, it was only because his easy trust caught her off guard. But somehow, Ian seemed to read even that unspoken thought.

“If I don’t believe in you, then who will, Estella?”

She froze.

‘If he doesn’t, then who will?’

What kind of strange thing to say was that?

And yet, when she thought about it, he wasn’t wrong. Of all the people in this townhouse, no one knew her as well as Ian did; no one had spent as much time by her side.

Except for when she was asleep, she probably saw him more often than she saw Ayla lately.

“I suppose that’s true.”

He gave a faint, passing smile.

“Then you should trust me too, Estella.”

“…….”

Why did he keep saying things like that in that low, unhurried voice that sounded almost like a confession?

Setting her cup down on the table, Estella lifted her gaze to him.

“Do you… talk like this to other people as well?”

“Of course not.”

He chuckled softly, as if amused by the question, and took another sip of honey water as if nothing had happened.

Then—

Knock, knock!

A faint sound came from the direction of the hall. Both of them paused and turned their heads.

No one was expected at this hour.

‘Who could it be?’

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

“I’m sorry for coming so late….”

When they opened the door to the foyer, they found Arthur Maynard, the baron’s eldest son standing there.

“Lord Arthur?”

His sudden visit was surprising enough, but arriving at this hour, well past midnight, was completely out of character for someone as timid and indecisive as Arthur, who was very much his father’s son.

“Please, come inside.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur entered awkwardly, removing his hat and holding it in both hands. His eyes darted nervously between Estella and Ian.

“I’ll prepare some tea and bring it to the parlor.”

Estella said, turning toward the kitchen.

“Ah—w-wait, please… just a moment….”

Both Estella and Ian stopped, turning back to him.

Arthur fidgeted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Actually… it’s not Sir Wyndham I came to see, but…”

Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly. Estella, catching the hesitancy in his tone, already guessed what he was about to say.

‘He’s here for me.’

Probably because of the Black Widow.

“I know it’s improper, but… may I speak with the Baroness alone for a moment…?”

“All right.”

Estella said calmly, not waiting for him to finish.

Ian glanced at her once before speaking firmly to Arthur.

“Then I’ll be joining the conversation as well.”

“Ah… what?”

Arthur’s eyes widened in dismay. He had clearly wanted a private talk, but Ian’s tone left no room for argument.

“There are no secrets between us.”

“…I understand.”

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Led by Baroness Vansen, Arthur entered the parlor. He couldn’t keep his eyes still, darting from the floor to the furniture as though searching for courage among them.

‘I shouldn’t have come unannounced like this… but how do I even begin?’

Recently, his mother had been delighted to find someone she could truly talk to for the first time in a long while. That person was none other than Baroness Vansen.

So far, so good.

How could he not be happy? His mother, who had become increasingly despondent, finally seemed to have come alive again, thanks to having someone to talk to. He therefore attended the dinner in good spirits.

But then…

“But Milla is different, isn’t it? Take Casalin, for instance. It’s in the south, yet they still enjoy salty food.”

She had pinpointed Rosalyn’s real homeland.

“Baroness Vansen… her estate was said to be in Milla.”

It all fit. Baroness Vansen knew Rosalyn—no, Margaret.

“Hic… I’m sorry, Arthur. I… I just couldn’t live properly. Maybe that’s why heaven won’t let me stay by Isaac’s side…”

Arthur’s chest ached again as he thought of Rosalyn — no, Margaret — sobbing in her room after dinner.

‘Everyone makes mistakes…’

It wasn’t as though Margaret had killed someone or committed violence. Sure, stealing money had been wrong—but…

“A woman born without parents has only two ways to survive—sell her body, or covet what belongs to others.”

That was what she had said.

‘I was just lucky to be born under noble parents.’

If anyone doubted her, they should look at the orphaned children in the slums north of the capital who kill to survive. Compared to that, Margaret was hardly a monster.

She was no evil criminal.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

“You said you had something to discuss?”

“Ah.”

He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t realized how long he’d been silent. Snapping himself back, Arthur straightened his posture, clenched his fists, and drew a deep breath.

“Baroness, I’ll speak plainly.”

“Go ahead.”

Estella said this in her calm, steady voice.

She was too composed; he couldn’t read her at all. Despite his earlier resolve, he found himself shrinking again.

‘No… I have to do this. For Isaac.’

Summoning his courage like a soldier heading into battle, Arthur lifted his chin and met her gaze.

“You know Rosalyn… or rather, Margaret, don’t you?”

Perhaps she hadn’t expected him to be so direct. For the first time that evening, a faint flicker appeared in Baroness Vansen’s eyes.

Arthur seized the moment and pressed on.

“I intend to take responsibility for Margaret’s past.”

Estella and Ian, seated opposite him, both exchanged subtle looks.

He was right; they already knew. They knew that Margaret had fled to Arti to hide from her pursuers.

“Therefore, I must ask that you leave her be.”

Once the first words were out, the rest poured forth like water through a burst pipe.

“In the end, this is our family matter. You’re outsiders, third parties. And I doubt you’ve met Margaret yourselves. You’ve probably only heard rumors, haven’t you?”

“…….”
“…….”

Neither of them spoke. Perhaps it was because, technically, he wasn’t wrong.

Encouraged by their silence, Arthur continued, convinced that he was in control of the conversation.

“She’s decided to live as the mother of my son, Isaac, and she’s changed. Her past may not have been honorable, but I see hope in the woman who now cherishes Isaac as her own. So I will not look back on her past.”

His long, impassioned speech finally ended.

Then, at last, Baroness Vansen spoke.

“I understand.”

Arthur’s chest deflated with relief.

‘Thank goodness… they’re reasonable people.’

“Thank you for understanding.”

“There’s nothing to understand or not understand. As you said, it isn’t our concern.”

Ian’s voice was calm as well, though the evenness in his tone carried a subtle chill.

Then Estella slowly lifted her gaze to Arthur.

“Just one question.”

Her eyes gleamed sharply like they could pierce straight through him.

“Does the Baroness Maynard know about all this?”

“…….”

Of course not. No one did, no one but him.

And when that truth showed plainly on his face, Baroness Vansen gave a short, knowing nod.

“So she really doesn’t know, then.”

“…That’s why I came here tonight. I wanted to ask you to keep Rosalyn’s past a secret.”

A moment of silence settled over the parlor. Only the faint, sweet scent of honey lingering in the air marked the slow passage of time.

“Even if we stay silent, do you really think that will keep the secret safe? There are many searching for her.”

“If any of the victims come forward, I intend to compensate them personally.”

The Baroness lifted her teacup and gazed into the liquid as though the answer lay at the bottom of the cup. Her next words were a quiet murmur, as if she were speaking to herself.

“Even the House of Maynard will find it difficult to deal with that many fiancés.”

He froze.

‘That many… fiancés?’

Arthur’s lips parted soundlessly, and he blinked in confusion. He stared blankly at the Baroness, who returned his gaze calmly and steadily.

Then, in that silence, Estella’s measured voice cut through like a blade.

“Lord Arthur, what crime do you believe Margaret was wanted for?”