Since the two had to leave earlier than planned, Isabelle willingly assigned some of Oretique’s staff to help them prepare.

She even added that they were smart kids. Dividing people into sides didn’t change the fact that they were quick with their hands.

Daniel, who followed Isabelle and his assistant as they left the inner room, kept looking back at them. Unable to contain his gratitude, he waved both hands.

“Madam, there’s no need to see us off. Just giving us your staff is more than generous.”

“He’s right, Lady Isabelle. What if Monsieur sees you…?”

His tone was slightly sulky. Understandably so – Ahmet was only seventeen.

If he’d been composed all the time, it would have been even more heartbreaking.

Isabelle let out a breath through her teeth and placed her hand on his soft, dark hair.

The way he instinctively lowered his body at her touch – he really was like a puppy.

Isabelle let out a soft breath through her teeth and placed her hand on Ahmet’s soft, slightly coarse black hair.

The way he lowered his body at her touch – he really was like a puppy.

A man instinctively came to mind.

It was inevitable.

Arnaud’s curls were a little softer. When she ran her hand through those golden waves, it was like dipping her fingers into flowing sunlight – his hair slid gently over her knuckles, leaving a delicate sensation on her skin.

It was the kind of feeling that made her eyes close on their own.

Maybe Ahmet felt her touch him while he was lost in those thoughts – his lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.

He might not have been able to read her mind, but at least he seemed to understand that he wasn’t in it.

It had been the same when she had faced Laurent. Nothing had changed.

All of them – every single one – felt more reliable than her husband, and yet Isabelle still couldn’t let Arnaud go.

“At least it was worth rushing out in my chemise!”

What cut through her thoughts wasn’t Ahmet’s gentle restraint, nor Isabelle’s obsessive self-consciousness.

It was a voice – sharp and ringing – that should never have reached her ears.

She turned her head, and sure enough, it was Camille.

“Ah, Madame Saint-Mang…”

“What kind of attire is this, exactly?”

As shocking as her arrival was, it was her outfit that was truly breathtaking.

If Isabelle didn’t reprimand Camille here, she had no right to call herself mistress of the house – so she deliberately lowered her voice.

Even Daniel and Ahmet were stunned into silence, their mouths hanging open.

Her red curls were left loose instead of tied up as a proper mademoiselle would wear them. She wore no jupe or robe, just a chemise gown draped over her torso and a cloak thrown over it out of sheer courtesy.

Even in Imanoria, where clothing was simpler than in Châteaubienne, no one would dare appear like that.

But Camille was unfazed.

“If a mistress wants to behave like a mistress, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Fine lines appeared on the bridge of Isabelle’s nose.

Although she was openly showing her displeasure, the mistress did not care and continued to speak as she pleased.

“I figured you wouldn’t have the strength to undress me yourself, so I came here on purpose. Even if I behaved properly, you still wouldn’t approve of me, would you, madam?”

“Your words are…!”

Both Daniel and Isabelle immediately stepped in to stop Ahmet, who looked ready to lash out.

Judging by how quickly Marie was approaching, it was clear that any sign of disrespect from Ahmet would turn into a much bigger problem.

“So that’s where the stench came from – I should have known it was you.”

“Madame Saint-Mang, that’s-!”

But the way she brought a hand to her nose was too much, even for Daniel, who now looked ready to explode.

Insults like “sewer rat,” “snake skin,” and “savage” were often hurled at nonbelievers-and it was more than enough to ignite Daniel’s anger, especially when the so-called nonbeliever was someone he practically treated as an adopted son.

“Don’t get involved.”

Isabelle understood his feelings.

Nevertheless, she also intervened to block Daniel.

In terms of influence, Daniel – who commanded the vast Ramune Trading Company – was unparalleled.

But in terms of hierarchy, he couldn’t beat Camille, the Baroness of Saint-Mang.

A noble was a noble, even if just barely.

“There’s no one here who can deal with her but me. Stand down.”

“Hah.”

Not wanting Ahmet or Daniel to be dragged into the mess, Isabelle ignored the mocking laughter and stepped forward toward Camille.

Mario moved to block her path, as he often did, but had no choice but to step aside at Camille’s nod.

Finally, Isabelle and Camille were face to face.

And once again, it was Isabelle who touched the other first.

“Do whatever you want with your body – strip it, flaunt it, it’s yours after all. I don’t care.”

“….”

“But at least cover up when you’re in front of me.”

As Isabelle slowly fastened the clasp of Camille’s cloak, she suddenly grabbed her and pulled her close.

A familiar scent hit her nose.

She had smelled it before – in Calvador, and again on Ahmet’s palm.

Now there was no doubt. The herb was hidden in the cloak.

Camille looked startled. Her mossy green eyes darted restlessly, and though she lacked the courage to push Isabelle away, she looked to Mario for help – clear evidence of her unease.

“Let’s stop here, Madame. Monsieur is probably listening to all this.”

Only then did Mario extend a thick arm and step between the two women. His arm, blocking Isabelle, was noticeably stiffer.

She almost laughed.

Holding back the twitch at the corner of her lip, Isabelle took a few steps back.

“What’s all this commotion?!”

That was when Arnaud arrived.

Arnaud stormed in with heavy, echoing steps.

His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Camille, more or less half-dressed.

Though her cloak was fastened, her lower half was still quite bare.

“What does this mean…?”

Isabelle was equally surprised.

She had assumed that Camille had been summoned by Arnaud, but the look on his face was unmistakably one of genuine confusion.

Then, without hesitation, Arnaud turned his head away and began questioning Mario.

“Whose man are you, Mario?”

It was a little different from what Isabelle had expected.

She had thought – as she always did after an argument – that Arnaud would just point out her faults and act petulant.

Mario lowered his head slowly.

So slowly, in fact, that there wasn’t a trace of loyalty in the gesture – causing both Isabelle and Arnaud to furrow their brows in unison.

Unlike Isabelle, who began to inhale sharply, Arnaud even seemed to suppress the urge to exhale.

Judging by that, he had no intention of reprimanding Mario.

It must have been his way of retaliating for Isabelle’s affection for another man.

How shallow. No wonder he’d been stupid enough to smoke that poisonous herb.

‘I must be the one to act.’

Her resolve only hardened.

And so, instead of approaching Arnaud, Isabelle went over to Ahmet.

Her husband’s face turned red in an instant, just as she had intended.

“This boy said he wanted to show me how he organizes the cart. I hear there are many goods from Imanoria – I will accompany Ahmet.”

“Why would you….”

“So mind your own business. I won’t bother with you.”

Isabelle took Ahmet’s hand without hesitation.

She turned away without regret.

With a firm step, she moved quickly, and in an instant she was far from Arnaud.

It took no effort to walk away, thanks to Ahmet following quietly and without resistance.

Without even looking back, she walked down the corridor and down the stairs. Soon the two of them reached an empty corridor.

Only then did Ahmet finally speak to her.

Only then did Ahmet finally speak to her.

“Um, El-no, I mean… Lady Isabelle.”

“There’s no one here, Ahmet. Speak freely. I’m speaking comfortably too, aren’t I?”

“Then… Princess. Why did you do that?”

She understood what he was asking.

So Isabelle answered without needing him to explain.

“My husband’s jealousy is nothing new. He’s just… not very mature.”

“But still, why go so far as to provoke him even more…”

“Because someone seems to be inflating this jealousy more than necessary.”

It would have been difficult to understand – and Isabelle knew it.

Even someone as smart as Ahmet, who had survived on wit alone, would have trouble making assumptions without context.

A boy who could understand a hundred things from a single hint still wore a puzzled expression.

So Isabelle decided to offer a little more explanation.

“In the East, they say that this herb is often used for bribery and manipulation.”

“And that’s why it’s so hard to get.”

“My husband is no different. This woman is bribing Arnaud. I’m sure of it.”

She said this as she walked down the corridor.

Ahmet, walking next to her, seemed to think about it – and then suddenly let out a sharp gasp and put his hand over his mouth.

“Then earlier, when she pulled you to her…”

“The moment she did, the scent hit me. She brought it because she knew we had just quarreled – she wanted to whisper again that I don’t love him.”

After a short silence, he muttered a few curses in Partayan.

He must have thought she wouldn’t understand.

It was rude, but Isabelle didn’t scold him. On the contrary, it was strangely satisfying.

“In any case, now that you know the full truth, Ahmet, you must help me completely.”

“Could there be any doubt?”

“Of course, I never suspected that you would betray me. You don’t seem like someone so lacking in loyalty.”

“Princess…”

“Let’s wait a bit before going inside. I feel like taking a walk.”

Ahmet nodded with a charming expression on his face. Looking at his innocent face, it seemed as if it had been a long time since the sunlight had been so sweet.

How long had they been walking, lost in happy memories and lighthearted chatter, when the sound of splashing water reached them? It was about the time they had wandered far from the garden.

At first they thought nothing of it. It was near Agnes’ quarters, and doing laundry during the day seemed perfectly natural.

But suspicion began to creep in and grew stronger the closer they got to the quarters.

There were no piles of cloth, and the maid, nervously scrubbing a single piece of cloth, was visibly shaking.

“My sister said there were all kinds of…”

“Shh.”

Isabelle quickly silenced Ahmet by covering his mouth. She needed to see what the maid was holding.

Even though they had lowered their voices, their presence was still noticeable. But the maid, who seemed to be in a hurry, didn’t turn around when they approached.

“Why won’t this come off, seriously…”

The cloth the maid was scrubbing was a chemise. Though it was neither torn nor worn, Isabelle instinctively put her hand to her mouth in shock.

She had seen a bloodstain on the lower back of the cloth. It was unmistakably blood.