“Who are you talking about?”

“Our lady, of course.”

Such an opinion would never have carried any weight in the past. However, when a servant spoke up, they were not dismissed out of hand. This was particularly true for those who had received a small gift from Ilenia.

“Well… she’s far better than those who are both foolish and quick to yell.”

“And she’s easy to serve.”

The atmosphere became slightly uneasy and their eyes darted nervously from person to person. The gifts had always been given secretly, with each person standing alone in front of the lady. No one else could have known. Yet, fearing discovery, they remained silent.

Had even one of them boasted, the truth would have spread like wildfire. But none had spoken, and for a simple reason.

The gifts, though thoughtful, had never been of great value. They were pleasing, yes—but far too modest to brag about, far too ordinary to parade as tokens from their master. Once set aside, they faded easily from memory, lingering only as a quiet pride tucked away in the heart.

That fleeting, secret pride was what Ilenia had intended all along—the feeling of being singled out, of being the one who met her exacting standards.

And so, instead of mocking their lady as before, the servants now hid behind vague replies, unwilling to betray the subtle favor they had each been shown.

“I thought she’d end up fussing like the other nobles, trying to play at lording it over us. But she hasn’t at all.”

“When I told a friend who works in another noble’s house about our master and mistress, her eyes lit up—said she wished she could come work here too.”

The recognition and envy of outsiders became a source of pride. Naturally, it raised the value they placed on their own household.

“Maybe it’s because she still remembers what it was like as a commoner. She notices things other nobles would never think to care about.”

“Maybe she’s not so bad after all…”

Of course, not every servant’s heart had softened. Some still cast disapproving glances at Ilenia—even those who had once received her gifts. Yet once the tide of opinion had begun to turn, open mockery was no longer possible. The more careless words fell into silence, the more her reputation quietly grew.

All of it had been by Ilenia’s design, born of her life as a commoner. Jewels and money—grand, extravagant gifts—won favor quickly, but just as quickly they stirred envy and resentment. Modest offerings carried no such burden. Light enough to accept without obligation, they slipped easily into grateful hands. And when they came again, and yet again, affection took root almost without notice.

Besides, such luxuries would have weighed heavily on Ilenia herself. What she chose instead was the perfect balance.

When she was a child, her mother’s basket had always held a single loaf of bread. Even in poverty—when each day’s wages barely bought the next meal—that basket never lacked its hard crust. And though Ilenia often went hungry, the bread was rarely for her. It was given away—to neighbors, to fellow workers.

Once, unable to bear it any longer, she had cried out, asking why her mother gave the bread away when her own family had so little. That very day, her father, Kurdy, had gone to work with nothing but a thin broth for breakfast.

Her mother looked at her for a long time. Looking back now, Ilenia thought the emotion she saw in her mother’s eyes was guilt — the guilt of a mother unable to feed her child properly, dragging her through hardship. At last, her sorrowful eyes softened and she spoke.

“Leni, people must live by giving. The more miserly you become, the more others will treat you with the same pettiness. But if you learn to share—even the smallest thing—people will help you in the ways they can.”

The memory of her mother’s gentle voice stirred within her as Ilenia turned her gaze toward the window. Once, beyond such panes, there had been only the wild forest of her childhood. Now, in its place, lay a carefully cultivated garden, shaped with intention and precision. And the truths she had been too young to grasp then were, at last, unfolding before her—one by one, with quiet clarity.

“This can’t be a fundamental solution.”

“You’re right.”

All Ilenia had done was cultivate shallow goodwill. If she made a mistake or found herself in desperate need, those same people might well abandon her. Just as the people of Tilea Hill had done before.

“But at least for now, it’s working. The rest is up to me—my own effort.”

Madam Meg let out a sigh. Countless words pressed at her lips, but the Duke’s warning not to act before him silenced them. In the end, all she could offer was a quiet caution: not to draw too near.

Ilenia only smiled faintly and nodded, and Meg’s eyes lingered on her mistress, clouded with worry.

She yielded like this even with the servants. How could such a tender-hearted lady possibly survive in the ruthless world of high society? This weighed heavily on Meg. And yet, perhaps this gentleness was also her mistress’s greatest strength.

The peace now flowing through the household — a harmony that Meg had never known in all her years of service — must surely be down to Ilenia. While the master ruled with stern commands alone, the mistress met her servants eye to eye.

Because of her, the workers were more content than ever. Their wages were fair, their duties lighter than before, and even Meg herself found her role easier, her orders more readily followed.

Whether this would prove a blessing or a disaster in time—Meg could not say. She could only watch, her gaze heavy with unease.

······ ✦ ✧ ✦ ······

“Ilenia, are you free four days from now?”

The question came out of nowhere.

“Four days from now? I suppose I am… but why do you ask?”

Puzzled, Ilenia lifted her gaze to him, only to find Delphius’s eyes fixed on her.

“There’s to be a tea party at Count Pablo’s estate in four days. We’ll need to attend together as husband and wife.”

“Attend… together?”

“Yes. I had planned to go alone, but they insisted your presence was missed at the wedding. They pressed me to bring my wife along to the tea party instead.”

“Ah…”

He noticed the faint tremor in her voice, but he showed no sign of it as he continued.

“One of our key business partners will be there. I couldn’t refuse. Still, if it feels burdensome, I’ll go alone—”

“No. I’ll go.”

Her voice was firmer than he had expected. Delphius let his gaze wander downwards. Ilenia was so tense that she didn’t even notice. Her hands were clasped tightly together and her knuckles had turned white.

“…You know, there’s no need to push yourself. If you don’t wish to, you can refuse at any time.”

“It’s fine. All I’ll need to do is sit for a while and have some tea, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.”

“I can manage that much.”

Her determination, cloaked in nervous resolve, went unanswered. Instead, the hand that had been stroking her hair moved down to the nape of her neck. His fingers idly brushed the hollow there before withdrawing.

“Alright. I’ll let them know you’ll attend.”

“Yes. I’ll prepare myself.”

He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, then left the bedchamber.

It had been this way for days. The teasing touches that had once made Ilenia feel uneasy had disappeared, as if they had never existed. Her husband, who was always busy, rarely spent time at home. On the rare occasions when he did, he would quickly retreat to his study. Once he was inside, not even Ilenia dared to disturb him.

She watched his retreating back with troubled eyes. The ceaseless tide of work had left him without rest for days.

“The tea party…”

She whispered under her breath.

Her words back then had been bold, yet the growing tension was undeniable. She knew too well that a noble tea party was nothing like the carefree gatherings of childhood friends.

She would have to stand among countless nobles, meet their eyes, smile, and speak with ease.

The thought of her meager education weighed on her, and she sighed softly. The world of nobility still frightened her. Yet she also knew she could not hide from it forever. Sooner or later, this was a trial she would have to face.

······ ✦ ✧ ✦ ······

The day of the tea party dawned with unusually radiant sunshine.

Count Pablo’s gathering was held in the garden, as if to boast of the clear weather. Under the brilliant sunlight, the full blooms and rich greenery shimmered like jewels against the white tablecloths set out for the guests.

As one visitor after another arrived, Count Pablo greeted them warmly—until his eyes suddenly fixed on a single figure.

“Well, well!”

With a voice of delight, Count Pablo’s broad face lit up with a bright smile. Striding forward, he clapped the tall man before him heartily on the back.

Receiving the thick-handed greeting, Delphius returned it with an uncharacteristically genial smile.

“It has been some time, Count Pablo.”

“And yet, why did you give me such vague answers until the very day, when you knew you would come?”

“So that my arrival would be all the more anticipated, of course.”

“What was that?”

Count Pablo burst out laughing, his hearty voice ringing out, his face beaming with good humor.

“And this must be…?”

Finally, he turned to the person he had noticed from the outset but had pretended not to. Under his sharp, appraising gaze, Ilenia inclined her head.

“My apologies for the late introduction, Count Pablo. I am Ilenia, the newly appointed Lady of Lukehardt.”