Chapter 1.4
Liz couldn’t understand Count Myra’s words.
For nobles like Manon, such situations might be a fleeting amusement. But for Liz, they were not.
For a maid, this situation was nothing more than a difficult and dangerous task.
Why had things gotten so complicated?
“I… understand.”
Count Myra scanned Liz with a displeased expression before grabbing her chin as if it were an object.
Her soft cheeks were crushed under his fingers.
Beneath her unkempt hair, her deep green eyes sparkled.
Even the curves of her body, not entirely hidden by the hastily donned robe, caught his attention.
Unconsciously, Count Myra swallowed hard.
Liz instinctively realized it.
His gaze was piercing through the gaps in her robe.
The tension in his trousers was more pronounced than before.
At that moment, fear consumed Liz.
If Myra wished, he could violate her right then and there.
That was the way of nobles. And she was just a maid.
“Please, let me go, my lord….”
Liz whispered, her voice trembling.
That faint, mosquito-like plea brought Count Myra back to his senses.
His face turned beet red as he regained control.
“You filthy maid!”
Count Myra released Liz’s chin as if throwing it away.
“How dare you. Like a courtesan. Try to seduce me?”
With each word, Count Myra jabbed Liz’s forehead with his index finger.
The stinging humiliation spread from her forehead throughout her body.
People always assumed maids were seducing nobles.
But that was never the case.
They simply projected their desires onto the maid, accusing her of lewdness, just as he was doing now.
“Liz, in situations like this, no matter what you say, it’ll always be your fault.”
“Exactly. So just keep your mouth shut.”
Recalling the words of other maids, Liz silently lowered her gaze.
In a way, she was grateful that Count Myra only scolded her after realizing his indecent thoughts.
At least he stopped himself.
Guests visiting the estate, and even some of her colleagues, had harassed Liz countless times.
‘…Yes. Count Myra is at least restrained.’
Liz bit her lip, holding back tears.
As the Count calmed himself, his gaze landed on Liz’s shoes.
“…Those shoes.”
Liz gasped and instinctively drew her feet back.
Of course, Count Myra would recognize those shoes.
After all, he was the one who had proudly displayed them in the parlor.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
The Count glared at Liz with a murderous look.
Liz stammered, her voice trembling.
“Th-the young lady asked me to switch shoes with her….”
“You insolent girl!”
The Count shouted as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“So you conspired with Isabel, didn’t you?”
“No, that’s not true!”
For the first time that day, Liz dared to protest against Count Myra.
She could endure being hit or belittled.
But she couldn’t bear such unjust accusations.
“Then why are you wearing comfortable shoes while she has those?”
“The young lady insisted on switching shoes due to a superstition….”
“How dare you insult Isabel!”
Once again, the Count’s massive hand flew toward Liz.
But Liz didn’t avoid it.
‘It’s better this way.’
If being struck would end this, she didn’t mind.
Liz tightly shut her eyes and braced herself.
But the blow never came.
“Ah….”
Liz opened her eyes.
Standing there was Valentine Winchester, gripping the Count’s arm.
Sunlight streamed down on his platinum hair. He looked almost angelic.
Liz nearly burst into tears.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The Count, his face pale, twisted his arm.
But Valentine didn’t release him.
Valentine asked calmly,
“Count Myra. Do you often strike your daughter?”
The Count looked at Valentine in disbelief.
“What nonsense are you saying? You know how much I cherish Isabel!”
The Count words were true.
Isabel was the little queen of the Myra estate.
Liz had to cater to Isabel’s every whim.
“Because of the bonnet you chose, I was humiliated at the party! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
In the morning, Liz would be like a seasoned chaperone, selecting dresses.
By evening, she would become a scapegoat for Isabel’s frustrations.
No one protected Liz during these times.
“She’s paid to endure this, isn’t she?”
“Still, she’s lucky.”
So this was the first time anyone had stood up for Liz.
“But right now, you’re raising your hand against your daughter.”
Even though Valentine’s cold voice was treating Liz as if she were Isabel,
Liz still felt grateful.
“That wretch is not my daughter! Duke, this is beyond reason!”
The Count spat out the word “wretch,” causing a crack to form in Valentine’s elegant expression.
But the Count didn’t notice and violently shook off Valentine’s hand.
“That wretch must have conspired with Isabel. She switched the shoes to make it easier for her to escape!”
The Count pointed at Liz’s shoes.
“Ah, the shoes.”
Valentine nodded as if he understood.
Liz looked at Valentine with pleading eyes and said,
“I swear, I didn’t know anything about this!”
“Silence!”
The Count roared.
Of course, Liz was terrified, but she stood firm against his wrath this time.
Perhaps noticing this, Valentine’s gaze shifted to Liz. His expression held an odd sense of amusement.
‘Why…?’
It was confusing, but before Liz could figure it out, Valentine spoke.
“Count Myra.”
Valentine’s soft tone sounded elegant compared to the Earl’s harsh voice.
“Please leave us for a moment. I need to speak privately with the bride.”
“The bride? Duke, you’re not seriously….”
“Winchester has spoken.”
Valentine deliberately pulled on Liz’s braided hair, letting it unravel.
Her brown hair, entirely different from Isabel’s, spilled out.
Valentine Winchester declared,
“From this moment on, this woman is Isabel Myra.”
No explanation was needed.
What Winchester defines is the definition itself.
“Hah, hahahaha…”
Count Myra let out a hollow laugh and glared at Liz as he spoke.
“No matter what you are, you belong to Myra. If you bring harm to Myra, I won’t let it slide!”
The Count slammed the door shut and stormed out.
Inside the room, only Valentine and Liz remained.
“Your Grace… Thank you.”
Liz mustered the courage to speak.
Valentine ignored her and responded coldly.
“Isabel of Winchester.”
His voice was calm yet icy, like a frozen lake.
“Until you complete all the procedures of marriage and return to Myra Manor, you are Isabel Myra within Winchester Estate.”
His tone had already shortened, much like how he would address a maid.
But Liz found this easier to bear.
“Understood. I’ll do my best.”
Liz bit her lip and nodded.
If it was unavoidable, she had to get through it somehow.
Valentine stared at Liz for a moment before faintly smiling.
‘Did he… smile?’
Surprised, Liz raised her head to confirm Valentine’s expression. But his face had already turned cold again.
“Ten minutes.”
“Pardon?”
Valentine pulled out a golden pocket watch.
“Remember. After this time, no questions or requests as Liz Garrett will be permitted within Winchester Estate.”
“Then, please let me ask something now!”
Liz hurriedly spoke.
“Count Myra is covering my mother’s medical expenses. My father is employed as a guard at the Myra Bank. If this incident causes me to lose my position at Myra Manor, could you…?”
“Hah.”
A hollow laugh escaped Valentine’s lips.
“Y-Your Grace?”
Had I offended him?
Liz had hastily assumed that his earlier kindness meant he might understand her situation just a little.
Panicked, Liz quickly added,
“I’m not asking for much. I’ll manage the hospital bills somehow, but please ensure my father isn’t dismissed…”
Liz furrowed her brows and bit her lip nervously.
But Valentine checked his pocket watch and replied indifferently,
“Seven minutes left.”
Was that an acknowledgment?
Regardless, Liz couldn’t drag this conversation out any longer.
She quickly began speaking again.
“And… I want you to know this.”
Liz spoke firmly.
“I truly didn’t know Miss Isabel was planning to escape.”
“Ah.”
Valentine glanced down at Liz’s shoes.
Startled by his gaze, Liz instinctively drew her feet back.
“You may misunderstand, but I swear it’s true. The young lady deceived me by asking to switch shoes due to superstition.”
Valentine smiled faintly with intrigue. Encouraged by his reaction, Liz continued speaking clearly.
“I was sincerely preparing for your wedding. As you just saw…”
At that moment, the image of Valentine seated in the attic flashed before Liz’s eyes.
He had been bathed in radiant light, so dazzling that Liz had momentarily forgotten her place.
“As you saw…”
Liz murmured absentmindedly.
A sudden breeze blew through the room.
The stray hairs clinging to Liz’s neck fluttered slightly in the wind.
At the same time, a sweet fragrance filled the space between them.
It was the same scent Liz had noticed when facing Valentine in the attic.
As she recognized the scent, Liz instinctively stared at Valentine.
Had he also noticed it?
Valentine froze, drawing in a deep breath.
Like a portrait model caught in tension, his presence seemed to hover slightly above his physical body.
But it lasted only a moment.
Valentine’s expression quickly turned icy again.
Liz immediately lowered her head.
He murmured to himself,
“…Furniture.”
Was he asking me to move furniture?
Liz cautiously raised her eyes, but as soon as she met Valentine’s gaze, she understood his meaning.
“You are nothing but furniture, Liz Garrett.”
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Noamia
So in the prolong Liz said she finally understood how cold of a man he is but from the very beginning he told her she was no different from furniture?? ……is she dumb? That sounds pretty COLD to me 😭