How should I answer? Say that I really was injured? What if he asks to see it?
“That is….”
As Roselia hesitated, unable to give an immediate answer, Klaus’s eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.
The soaked, clinging shirt felt as if it were sticking even tighter to her skin from the sweat. Caught off guard, her mind froze, leaving her to open and close her mouth like a mute.
Just then, a familiar voice cut between them.
“They got hurt protecting me.”
Klaus and Roselia’s gazes turned simultaneously toward the source of the voice. There stood Closette, arms crossed, looking at them with a haughty expression.
“Hurt protecting you? What happened? And are you yourself uninjured?”
“Hmm… I suppose you do worry about me?”
A strange atmosphere unfolded. A fifteen-year-old girl with silver-blue hair and a man with black hair who stood at least 190 centimeters tall faced off without yielding an inch, creating a tension that made those around them nervous.
“What exactly happened?”
When Closette refused to answer and merely glared, Klaus sighed and shifted his target back to Roselia. However, it was the haughty Closette who answered for her.
“I tripped while getting out of the carriage. Antonio tried to protect me and ended up underneath me. Their back got scraped up in the process, so they’re a bit injured.”
Roselia was so taken aback by Closette’s calm, unflinching lie that she almost wondered if such a thing had actually happened. Of course, that was impossible. Closette had disembarked from the carriage quite gracefully to meet the noble young ladies.
In that case, Closette was lying for her sake… but why? Don’t tell me… does Closette know that I’m a woman?
While a thousand thoughts clashed in confusion, Klaus seemed satisfied enough, looking at Antonio with a nonchalant expression.
“If they were injured protecting Closette, I shall apologize on your behalf.”
It was hard to understand why these siblings were always insisting on apologizing for one another.
Closette scoffed at Klaus’s blunt remark.
“Why are you apologizing for me?”
Even at the stinging reaction of Closette, who never addressed him as her brother, Klaus seemed accustomed to it, looking at Roselia with a gruff expression.
“However, I would appreciate it if you did not treat your body so carelessly.”
At the unexpected remark, both Roselia and Closette looked at Klaus with puzzled eyes. They had little time to be surprised, however, as Klaus continued in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Because that body does not belong to you until you have repaid all your debts.”
It was a statement easily misunderstood, but knowing the true meaning behind it, the expressions of both Roselia and Closette turned cold with disgust.
The body Klaus referred to was, quite literally, a commodity with the utility to pay off a debt.
After that, Klaus left the dining room, leaving word for Butler Jeffrey that he would be eating in his office. Only after he vanished did the tension break, and Roselia let out a long sigh, dropping her rigid shoulders.
Closette, who hadn’t finished her meal, began eating again as if nothing had happened. Roselia glanced at her and asked cautiously, “Milady, why… did you help me?”
At Roselia’s question, Closette gestured for the servants in the dining room to leave. Her action only made Roselia more anxious.
*Does she really know who I am?*
But the answer that followed was a bit different from what Roselia suspected.
“Because Antonio looked distressed.”
“Pardon?”
“I told you. I would protect you from that cold-blooded man.”
A stunned Roselia couldn’t help but ask back, “Even though you don’t even know why I’m wearing bandages?”
“Does that matter? Didn’t you just not want Klaus to see what’s under the bandages?”
Once again, taken aback by Closette’s sharp insight, Roselia stiffened.
Closette, who had been observing her calmly, picked up a napkin and wiped the corners of her mouth with a haughty expression.
“Well… it’s probably just an unsightly scar or something. Regardless, the situation earlier was very awkward, wasn’t it?”
Seeing the young Closette act with such detachment, like a world-weary middle-aged woman, a bitter smile tugged at Roselia’s lips.
“Thank you, Milady.”
“Well, whatever. In return, you must come with me to the Marquess’s young lady’s tea party in three days.”
“Of course.”
Seeing Closette beam with satisfaction at Roselia’s response, Roselia smiled back at her.
* * *
Between Vandeloup, the capital of the Rugvelzet Empire, and the Baltezar Duchy, there existed a small village called Algrisha.
This village served as a trade route and buffer zone; it was a town settled by poor farmers who lacked the financial means to live in the capital and did not belong to the Duchy, as well as merchants traveling between the two.
Stepping down from the carriage, Roselia surveyed the village, a smirk curling on her lips.
This is it. The place where the Crown Princess’s favorite masterpiece was born. According to the original story, in about a month, the heroine would disguise herself as a commoner, pass through this village, see the painter’s work, and fall in love with it enough to buy it.
The amount the Crown Princess offered for the painting was 500 Verang—a sum an average commoner could live on for ten years without working.
That very painting was Roselia’s first target.
The problem was that the only information she could get from the original novel was the name of the village and the painter.
The one saving grace was that this was a small village, not the capital.
After organizing her thoughts, Roselia approached a merchant who was clearing his fruit stall with a determined expression.
The merchant stood up, looking puzzled as a pretty-faced man in a proper suit approached him. Given her attire and appearance, she did not look like someone who belonged in such a small, humble village, so a trace of wariness colored his expression.
“Hello. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Who are you?”
“Ah… nothing else, but do you happen to know an Mr. Abelo Hunterm in this village?”
“Abelo? I don’t think I’ve seen him in two weeks….”
When she received an unexpected answer, Roselia asked back, excited.
“You know Mr. Abelo?!”
“I do. This village is so small that everyone knows each other’s faces. But why do you ask?”
Roselia hesitated briefly at the man’s suspicious gaze.
There were too many suspicious aspects to be completely honest.
‘I am a servant from the Duchy who came to buy him out, knowing his work will become a hit later.’
How suspicious would that sound?
Settling on a plan, Roselia wore a friendly smile and spoke glibly.
“Ah, I’m a relative of Mr. Abelo. I’m on my way to the capital and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”
The man scanned Roselia’s pretty face and muttered, even more suspicious.
“Does Abelo have a relative this polished…?”
“Ahaha, I suppose you wouldn’t know. We’re, um, about sixth cousins.”
Despite her bright smile, the man stared at her blankly before scratching his head and pointing in the opposite direction, looking annoyed.
“Go straight that way and turn into the third alley; there’s a shabby house with a rose painted on the door. That’s his place.”
“Thank you!”
Thinking she had found her target easier than expected, Roselia’s footsteps were light. She had even taken 20 Verang from Klaus just in case; she thought she might even have money left over.
Finding the house with the rose painted on it, Roselia knocked on the door with a fluttering heart.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
However, there was no sign of life from inside. Wondering if he wasn’t home, Roselia knocked again.
*Knock, knock, knock, knock.*
Still no response. Peeking through the window just in case, Roselia saw a man sitting blankly in front of a dining table. It was Abelo Hunterm. Beside him, a young girl, perhaps five or six years old, was playing with a ragged doll made of cloth.
“Excuse me! Mr. Abelo! Could you open the door for a moment?”
Only when a stranger’s voice called him did the man turn his head. His eyes were dull, and his expression was devoid of life.
“Who is it….”
Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing the man’s gaunt face.
“I’ve come to buy Mr. Abelo’s painting.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Abelo’s face. But soon, his expression darkened again as he asked suspiciously, “My painting…? How did you know to come here?”
“I happened to see one of your paintings in the village. It was very impressive.”
Of course, claiming to have seen the painting was a lie. But she did know that Abelo had been maintaining his livelihood by selling paintings in the village.
“Please, won’t you sell me a painting?”
“…….”
Until he met the Crown Princess, Abelo had lived in such poverty he could barely afford to feed himself. He was a nameless painter, a man who had never made a significant income from his art.
If it were him, she’d expected him to jump at the chance, but his reaction was far from what she had imagined. Sensing that he wouldn’t be easy to deal with, Roselia added anxiously, “I will buy it for 10 Verang.”
“…….”
In truth, she already knew all about the painting Abelo possessed through the contents of the novel. It was a painting of a woman and a young girl sitting in a rose garden.
But since she would look even more suspicious if she acted like she knew it without having seen it, Roselia opened her mouth, pretending not to know.
“If 10 Verang isn’t enough, how about 15 Verang?”
“…….”
“18 Verang!”
Any more was impossible. The carriage back to the Duchy cost 100 gran (1 Verang), so she had to keep enough to pay for the ride home.
As Roselia looked at Abelo with a nervous expression, Abelo, who had been silent for a long time, spoke heavily.
“The work I recently completed is not for sale.”
After saying that, Abelo slammed the door shut. Roselia, who had been about to urgently say something else, stood frozen in front of the closed door, stunned.
Why won’t he sell the painting? He definitely sold it to the heroine in the book….
Even then, the heroine hadn’t revealed she was the Crown Princess when she bought it. She remembered clearly that she had bought it while disguised in shabby clothing… Don’t tell me you have to pay the full 500 Verang that the Crown Princess eventually paid?
But Abelo didn’t seem particularly interested in money. As Roselia paced in front of the door, lost in thought, her eyes suddenly landed on the withered flowers in the garden in front of the house.
It looked like it had been quite a while since anyone had tended to them….
Suddenly, Roselia’s gaze turned to the young girl inside the window. Only then did it dawn on her, and she lifted her head abruptly.