The servant spoke Châteaubienne fluently, but made mistakes such as rolling his tongue when he should have stopped, or holding his breath when he shouldn’t have.

This was probably due to the fact that his mother tongue was different. Isabelle, who was also not born in Châteaubienne, immediately noticed the servant’s mistakes.

But she couldn’t reveal them in front of Murier, so she covered her embarrassment with another smile.

“I accept it gratefully, Ramune.”

“It’s a small gift, but I hope you like it.”

It was an unusually polite gesture. Even Frederick wasn’t that respectful. Isabelle responded by helping him to his feet, then subtly stepping aside and signaling for him to go in first.

There was the fact that he came recommended by the princess, but she was also deeply moved by Daniel’s courtesy. When he hesitated, she nodded several times in encouragement.

“Come in.”

“Thank you, madam.”

Daniel bowed politely and naturally placed a hand on the servant’s shoulder. The servant approached the table in front of the sofa and set the box down, while Daniel looked at him fondly, as if he were his own son, before heading to his seat.

While Isabelle greeted them, it was her husband’s job to give instructions to the servants.

Arnaud covered his mouth with his hand and whispered.

“Murier, go and take another look at the place where Ramune will be staying. Marie, bring some black tea and sablés.”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

“I’ll make sure there are no mistakes.”

Marie and Murier answered one after the other before leaving the inner room. Once Arnaud had dismissed the other two and sat down beside her, there were only four people left in the room.

“My maid will bring tea shortly, so please be patient with your thirst for a while. I’m not sure if the refreshments here are to your taste, but…”

“Please don’t say that. I come from a merchant family, so I’m not fussy about food.”

Daniel quickly waved both hands in denial. Still, the way his lips remained tight made it clear that he was nervous. It was Arnaud’s job to make him comfortable.

“You must have tasted food from many places. Do you happen to know koulouri?”

At the familiar name, Isabelle jumped, her shoulders shaking slightly. If she had been drinking tea, she would have choked on it.

“Of course I do. When I was in Imanoria, the staff bought it for me several times. Do you know it, Monsieur?”

Back when Isabelle had been Elisabeth, she had once sneaked into the marketplace with Arnaud, who had come as part of a diplomatic delegation. The very first thing they had bought and eaten there was koulouri.

“Eli, I have no idea what it is…”

“Just close your eyes and taste it. It’s a delicacy, I promise.”

Unable to resist her insistence, Arnaud had reluctantly chewed the sesame-covered bread for the first time in his life. After that, no matter what was served at dinner, he would always compare it to koulouri.

She remembered him whispering that while the food was good, it didn’t quite measure up to that strange, coarse-textured treat.

‘He still remembers.’

Isabelle looked at her husband with a complicated expression. For some reason, she felt like crying.

In the excited Arnaud, now tasting white wines from different regions with Daniel, she saw the seventeen-year-old boy he once was.

She quickly looked away.

It was because she couldn’t bear the heaviness in her heart.

The next thing she noticed was the foreign servant who seemed to be Daniel’s right-hand man.

The other servants who had followed Daniel had already scattered throughout the residence, following Murier’s lead. But this boy remained alone on the sofa, looking back and forth between Isabelle and the front door.

Anyone could see that he was nervous – he was biting his lip with all his might.

“Ramune, I’m also curious about the boy next to you.”

He looked like he was going to bolt out the door if she told him to leave, but Isabelle had no intention of letting the boy go just yet.

At the very least, she needed to know his name.

And so she interrupted the conversation between Arnaud and Daniel.

When Arnaud’s eyes also lit up with curiosity, Daniel let out an awkward laugh and put an arm around the man’s shoulders. The boy straightened his back but couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He remembered her well, too.

“Ah, madam. I’m sorry for the late introduction. This is Ahmet. He’s my right-hand man.”

“Then he must be from Partaye.”

Ahmet.

Hearing the servant’s name made it even more certain that they had met before.

When she calmly guessed his homeland, Daniel’s pupils immediately widened in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Would he use this name in Kletenberg or that one in Châteaubienne? With such a stern appearance, he could very well be a Partaye.”

“He speaks Châteaubienne so fluently I didn’t even notice.”

Arnaud chimed in, obviously surprised.

“Like you said, he really seems like a smart boy.”

Just as her husband had said, there was something extraordinary about Ahmet. And with that, her certainty grew – this was indeed the same Ahmet she once knew.

“He looks like someone I used to know.”

At the same time, Isabelle lifted one corner of her lips in a familiar smile – the same c*cky smile Elisabeth often wore at Castle Zaphcada.

Ahmet’s face lit up as if he had realized it too.

Back when Zaphcada Castle had been their home, there had been a trading company named after their mother, Cassandra.

At that time, Ahmet was about ten years old and worked as a low-ranking servant for that company.

The master of the company was notorious for being downright inhuman, but no one had expected him to go so far as to beat children as young as Ahmet.

At that time, Elisabeth had been woefully ignorant of the world.

It was likely that Ahmet had been found covered in blood.

When Elisabeth discovered the battered seven-year-old Ahmet, she immediately took him to her chambers.

It was shortly after Elisabeth turned twelve.

As expected, the merchant master made a great fuss, but Elisabeth didn’t hear a word of it – she had blocked her ears, saying it wasn’t worth listening to.

For a while, her bed became Ahmet’s. She put medicine on his wounds and comforted him when he whimpered in pain.

When his wounds had healed a bit, she even gave him money to find a new master. She had also shown him to her father, Theo.

“I… I’ll find you no matter what. No matter where you are, milady, I’ll come to you.”

The boy who had said that to Imanorian the day he left Zaphcada had grown into a young man and was sitting right in front of her.

The sharp nose and chin he had had since childhood, along with his thick, curly black hair, had become even more pronounced with age.

It seemed that Daniel was just as proud of Ahmet. He patted the young servant on the back and began to brag about him.

“That’s right. He’s from Partaye. He’s smart and meticulous in his work, and I like him very much. He even makes a profit for me.”

“Even beginners on the street can make a few hundred crans, master.”

“That’s only for the older ones. The goods you sold weren’t easy for a seventeen-year-old to handle.”

Daniel, looking a little embarrassed, ruffled Ahmet’s hair despite the boy’s attempts to stop him. He seemed very proud of Ahmet.

And Ahmet looked really happy. The gentle curve of his eyes and his flawless, healthy face proved it.

It was as if she could finally relax.

How lucky it was that there was now someone who cared for this once pitiful boy. Inwardly, Isabelle let out a thousand sighs of relief.

‘If he’s really that clever, I’ll have to test him myself.’

So lost in this thought, Isabelle hadn’t even noticed her husband watching her.

Startled by Arnaud’s sudden comment, she turned her head to face him.

“Ahmet, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“My wife is the one who sends the gift, so on behalf of your master, I’d like you to take the order form from her.”

With these words, Arnaud gave her a playful wink. It seemed he had noticed her watching the boy since he entered.

She considered stopping him, but Daniel’s eyes were sparkling with excitement, making it impossible to object.

“Brilliant idea, monsieur. It’ll be a good opportunity for Ahmet as well.”

“Well then, Ahmet, how about it? Do you think you can handle madam?”

Ahmet, his already large eyes widening even more, looked back and forth between the couple. It was only after Isabelle gave him another gentle smile that he finally nodded.

Isabelle also had many things she wanted to ask the boy.

“If madam is willing…”

“He seems trustworthy enough for the task. You should continue your talk with Ramune.”

Isabelle’s acceptance of the proposal wasn’t just because she was happy to see the boy again.

She also wanted to encourage her husband, who was finally making an effort to befriend someone after such a long time.

With her approval, Arnaud’s face lit up and he placed a hand on Daniel’s back. Daniel seemed to have taken a liking to Arnaud as well.

“I hope you have a productive time.”

Daniel said as a parting remark.

With that, the two left the inner room, cutting the number of people inside in half.

In the middle of it all was Ahmet, quietly mouthing words without speaking aloud.

Isabelle didn’t speak to him right away. She had already studied his face – now it was time to look elsewhere.

Her gaze moved from the back of his hand, where she had last treated him, to the ankle that had once been so badly bruised.

Seeing the wounds healed without even a bandage, it was clear that Daniel’s care for Ahmet wasn’t just for show.

Isabelle was relieved to know that the boy had found a good master.

She gently pushed the plate of sablés Marie had filled earlier over to him.

“Go on, eat. You’ve always liked sweet things.”

“You really remembered.”

Ahmet’s big eyes shimmered, on the verge of tears. He was still as tearful as before.

Isabelle laughed softly and handed him a tissue.

“So much for growing up – you’re still such a crybaby.”

” Princess, you’re too much…”

‘Princess – if anyone had heard that, it would have been enough to turn all of Oretique upside down.’

 But even if Murier had been standing next to them at that moment, Isabelle wouldn’t have scolded Ahmet.

If the first thing he’d called her after being alone with her had been “Madam Latvien” or “Lady Isabelle,” it would have been heartbreaking in its own way.

For Ahmet, she wanted to remain Elisabeth forever.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I mean – Lady Isabelle.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not even your fault.”

Ahmet smiled sheepishly.

But the shadow that fell across his face showed that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation either.

But Isabelle didn’t want to talk about her own circumstances – not with Ahmet, not after so long.

So she quickly changed the subject.

“You managed to find a new master somehow. I’m glad – you seem happy.”

“Yes, he’s a good man. He tries to teach me a lot. He also entrusts me with real work. That’s how I’ve grown.”

“Looks like all your wounds have healed as well. I’m just glad that you turned out well, Ahmet.”

Pessimism had long become second nature to Isabelle. It wasn’t something she could easily conceal—she instinctively spoke of herself in a self-deprecating way.

At her words, a crack formed in Ahmet’s jet-black irises.

He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, clearly struggling to speak. He wanted to offer comfort, but didn’t want to say anything that might hurt her. The conflict within him must’ve been immense.

It had been a mistake on Isabelle’s part.

She needed to change the subject again.

So she hurriedly brought up something else.

“Oh, that’s right, Ahmet.”
“…Yes?”
“There was something I wanted to ask when the company arrived.”
“Anything, milady.”

Isabelle didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked over to the bedside table.

With some effort, she pulled the top drawer all the way out. Pressed into the corner was a worn-out cloth bag, crumpled and faded.

It contained the Anmadre leaves Arnaud had given her that night.

Isabelle unwrapped the cigarette and held it out to Ahmet, who had followed her.

“This is called Anmadre – something my husband often smokes. I hear it’s quite strong… I was hoping to find something milder.”

Ahmet reached out carefully and sifted through the leaves, glancing between them and Isabelle.

Then he picked one out of the cigarette, brought it to his nose and took a cautious sniff.

“This isn’t Anmadre.