Chapter 5

“My apologies.”

“What is this…?”

“I wondered if you might be crying.”

“…”

“It seems I was mistaken.”

It felt as if she were in a strange place. This was her home, she was the lady of the house, and he was only a guest staying for a while. Yet at that moment, she couldn’t hide her crumbling face. She closed and opened her eyes.

She mustn’t be found out.

She straightened her back and steadied her breath inside. It had been a long time since she’d set foot in that tiresome social circle, but she was still, without doubt, the lady of this grand mansion and the renowned Countess. Wearing the mask of a smile was not difficult.

“…Thank you for your concern, Sir.”

She put on a picture-perfect smile and continued slowly.

“I am not a child who sneaks into the study to cry alone.”

There was no immediate reply. Vincent’s gaze seemed to observe her, perhaps intrigued by her unexpected retort. His neatly arranged lashes cast a small shadow beneath the slightly shaded eyes. He was a man who suited the darkness. His frosty silver-gray hair, sharp jawline, and straight nose gave him an austere, immaculate air.

In the tense silence, the scent of sandalwood grew stronger at the tip of her nose. For some reason, it didn’t feel unfamiliar. The strange sense of déjà vu she’d felt since their first meeting was about to reveal its shape.

He withdrew obediently.

“I see.”

“…Yes.”

She nodded lightly and was about to turn and leave.

Once again, Vincent called her.

“Lady Olivia.”

“….”

“Do you need any help?”

There was no time to ask what he meant. Before Olivia could open her mouth, a knock sounded beyond the door, breaking the silence.

Knock, knock.

“Madam, may I come in?”

Olivia had said she would go straight to the study without dinner, so Madame Greta must have been concerned.

“…Come in.”

It was a meal she didn’t want, a reluctant kindness, but she couldn’t refuse. As the maid entered with a tray of light food, Vincent bowed and left the study. One phrase kept echoing in Olivia’s mind.

—Do you need any help?

But why, how?

* * *

—Sister! I found it!

It was probably a memory from long ago. A beloved, blurry voice burrowed into Olivia’s ears. Twelve-year-old Olivia looked up. She muttered, “Elliott.” Her only younger brother, with curly brown hair, was calling her from far above. Sunlight pierced through the dense leaves of the elm tree that was said to be over a hundred years old, dazzling her eyes.

—Come down right now, Elliott!

If the adults found out, they would scold them thoroughly, especially Olivia. But Elliott had been an uncontrollable nine-year-old boy, and Olivia was only twelve.

—It’s dangerous!

As she shouted, there was a faint cracking sound. “Aaaah!” Elliott’s scream came from overhead.

—Kyaa!

Elliott fell toward her. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut.

“…”

The dream ended there. It felt like there was more, but she couldn’t remember it. The bedroom was quiet. She realized it was morning because sunlight touched her fingertips. Pale light seeped through the thin jacquard curtains, climbing up the bed to her chin. She considered lying down a bit longer, then changed her mind.

When she pulled the bedside bell, a maid soon knocked, bringing water for washing.

“You may come in.”

The maid set the water on the side table and held up a mirror to Olivia’s face. Her complexion was pale, her eyelids slightly sunken. Her long, faintly wheat-colored hair and blue irises looked almost faded. Her cheeks were hollow—perhaps she’d lost some weight. As Olivia stared absently at her wrist, the maid spoke.

“Shall I prepare the crinoline?”

It wasn’t a thoughtless question. Washing face and hands and changing clothes upon rising was routine, not something to ask about. But today was different. There was a guest in the mansion—a rare external guest. The maid’s intention was to ask if Olivia would be dining with the guest. Wearing a crinoline and dress meant she would join for breakfast; otherwise, she’d eat alone or skip the meal.

Olivia shook her head slowly.

“It’s fine.”

* * *

After a simple breakfast of fruit and bread, Olivia shut herself in the office. Many tasks had piled up during her absence from Terez. While Lenahan managed the estate from the capital, the Countess’s duties were limited to the mansion. Most minor matters were handled by Butler Gerald, but some required the lady of the house’s approval.

“I didn’t expect the annex to be this worn.”

“It just needs a little maintenance—painting the outer wall and checking the old window frames.”

“Wouldn’t that go over budget? Isn’t it wasteful?”

“Well…”

Even if the Harper Earldom was one of the wealthiest in the empire, unnecessary extravagance should be avoided. Olivia pointed out the troublesome part, and Gerald hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“There was a direct order…”

Gerald fell silent at that point. Seeing him unable to continue, Olivia smiled bitterly inside. There had always been only one person who could override her authority as the chief decision-maker in household matters.

“I see. Understood.”

‘Your mind has grown dull, Olivia.’

She must have spent too long in the capital without thinking. She’d forgotten who owned the annex listed on the paper. The estate had more than one annex, but that was no excuse.

As the lady of the Harper household, Olivia was expected to have calculation skills, quick judgment, and a good memory. Without the master, she had to make important business decisions as his proxy. Lenahan had chosen Olivia among many candidates for those very reasons. While other noble ladies obsessed over jewelry and dresses, Olivia was relatively focused and good with numbers.

She knew exactly how many mines the Harper Earldom monopolized in the empire, how many workers were employed, their wages, the highest profit margins, and proper distribution rates. Yet she’d forgotten about a mere annex in the estate, which was inexcusable.

“You could discuss this directly with the Earl…”

“That’s enough.”

Olivia cut off the butler’s hesitant words.

She knew. If she objected, Lenahan would accept it. He never paid much attention to such trivial things. In the end, Olivia was the only one who would end up miserable. She remembered the maids whispering as she walked by.

—Poor Countess.

She bit her lower lip, wishing she appeared calm. Wishing she looked completely unaffected. She stamped her seal on the document.

“Let’s move on to the next.”

* * *

“Your chess skills have improved a lot.”

“They’re still nothing compared to yours, Madame.”

The late afternoon sun was long. The pawn clicked onto the chessboard. Lady Greta, who had studied the board for a long time, raised her hands in surrender after about thirty minutes.

“This old woman’s mind can’t keep up anymore.”

“Don’t say that, Aunt.”

To others, they looked like a peaceful mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. But the reality was different. Lady Greta, experienced and shrewd, always had a reason for her behavior. It was usually one of two things: either to bring up an awkward topic or to criticize her niece-in-law.

“Come to think of it, Sir Vincent is quite good at chess, too.”

“….”

This time, it seemed to be the latter. Olivia lowered her eyes. It was a rare break after finishing urgent work, coinciding with a late lunch. It was impolite for the hostess to let a guest dine alone, but after the first evening, Olivia had avoided Vincent. She dreaded that she’d have to keep it up for several more days.

He had been staying for three days now.

“I apologize for not properly hosting our guest.”

Olivia reached for a nicely arranged scone, took a bite, and spoke slowly.

“I’ve had more to do than I expected upon returning.”

It all started the morning after their return to Terez.

Not used to relying on others, the knight had announced after breakfast in the drawing room that he would leave soon, expressing his gratitude. But the departure was delayed by several days—his horse, which had suffered for a long time, was in poor condition.

The visiting veterinarian shook his head, saying Vincent would need to stay three more days. There were four people in the drawing room: the veterinarian, Vincent, Olivia, and Lady Greta. Olivia offered to lend a horse, but Vincent refused, saying it was a cherished gift from childhood. As soon as he finished, Lady Greta jumped in.

—Then rest a bit longer, Sir Vincent. Fitzhend Hall has plenty of empty rooms.

At that moment, Vincent, who was leaning by the window, met Olivia’s eyes. She turned her head slightly away, feeling his gaze touch her profile as she sipped her tea. Without a sound, Vincent approached, his shadow blocking the sun.

—Thank you for the offer, but…

She wanted to get up right then. Since their encounter in the study on the first evening, she’d felt uncomfortable around him. The last thing he’d said kept echoing in her mind, leaving her with shame and confusion, as if he’d exposed her weaknesses.

After a moment, Vincent’s low voice sounded, slow and resonant.

—It would be a bother to the Countess.

Three pairs of eyes looked at Olivia. There was no other choice. She set down her teacup and lowered her gaze.

—Not at all.

—…

—It’s a rare pleasure to help a knight on pilgrimage.

It was a lie. A skilled lie.

As Olivia was lost in unwelcome memories, Lady Greta’s voice broke the silence.

“…I think you are quite clever, Countess.”

It was an unexpected response. Olivia looked up to see the old Madame smiling faintly. What was she trying to say?

“You’re quick-witted and good with numbers, not to mention chess.”

“You flatter me.”

Olivia answered as if nothing was wrong, but her voice trembled. She didn’t know why. The urge to jump up and leave was even stronger than before.

“So, this old woman has something to tell you.”