Marin stepped to the end of the line where the servants stood, bowing her head in quiet compliance.
The Duke, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time, looked thinner. His jawline was sharper than she remembered.
Had he been under immense pressure? Had he been sleeping at all?
As the Duke walked slowly down the row, the servants bowed in unison. Marin mimicked their posture, her gaze fixed on the ground.
However, the Duke’s steady footsteps came to a dead halt directly in front of her. It was as if he had known exactly where she stood and had sought her out.
Marin stared at the Duke’s motionless boots, then hesitantly raised her head. The sunlight caught his back, casting his face into shadow and making his intentions impossible to read. Nearby, the servants bowed even lower.
Looking around with a troubled expression, Marin spoke, her voice thick with uncertainty.
“Welcome back, Your Grace.”
“I have returned… take care.”
The Duke leaned down until he was close to her face, whispering the words as if trailing off into the air.
Marin’s eyes widened. Realizing it was a reply to her own parting words, she beamed.
“Yes!”
* * *
“Your Grace, preparations for departure are complete. I will tidy up here and accompany the young masters and lady of the Count’s family. Meanwhile, the investigation into the culprit is ongoing.”
“Instruct the spies in every ducal family to dig deeper. The mastermind is either the Emperor or one of them.”
“Understood. Also, here is the quarterly report from our spy in the East. They say the ‘child’ is growing up well, unaware of anything.”
“I see.”
“Yes. And about Perido?”
“Can he still not speak?”
“According to the physician, it is a temporary symptom induced by shock. It seems we must give him time.”
Olive reported with a note of sympathy.
“I see.”
It was time to depart.
“Oh, and there is one small problem.”
Olive cautiously gauged the Duke’s reaction.
“…”
Gerald waited for him to continue.
“The eldest young lady agreed to relocate to the Duke’s estate for her safety, but she set a condition. She requested a private, detached villa where no one is allowed to approach. She even refused a tutor. After what she has endured, she trusts no one.”
“Do as the children wish.”
“I understand we can delay finding a tutor, but the greater issue is the eldest young lady’s upcoming debutante. We need a noblewoman to serve as her chaperone. Any adult noblewoman could suffice, but the young lady refuses to interact with anyone outside the family.”
“No one?”
“Yes. If only the Duchess were here…”
Olive’s voice trailed off, edged with self-reproach.
“…”
Gerald fell into silence.
* * *
The office was dark, shielded by heavy curtains.
The conversation with Olive continued to echo in Gerald’s mind. He could wait for the children’s wounds to heal, but a chaperone for Dia was an entirely different matter.
Now that he was their guardian, he intended to ensure his niece wanted for nothing. Her debutante was a milestone he could not allow her to miss. A noblewoman without a debutante would be discarded by society, and he would not permit his niece to be looked down upon.
He needed a chaperone, but the girl refused to see anyone. He couldn’t simply drag a woman from the street, and he certainly didn’t intend to marry on a whim.
Marriage wasn’t even necessary. A superficial engagement, one that could be severed at any time, would suffice.
As Gerald pondered, he fiddled with the blindfold lying on his desk. It had only been a short while since he had stopped wearing it, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.
Hearing familiar footsteps outside, Gerald parted his lips.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Your Grace. You must be exhausted from your journey. I came a bit early, thinking it might be best for you to sleep early tonight.”
Marin chirped like a bird, fussing over the trolley. Even then, she didn’t forget to lower her voice, ever considerate. She brought with her the familiar scent of old books and Mandlesong grass.
The corners of Gerald’s lips tugged upward, though he remained unaware of it.
“I will prepare the grass for your eyes. Have you been using what I gave you?”
“Yes.”
He felt Marin approach and suddenly hesitate, the cloth hovering in her hands. She had only just realized he wasn’t wearing his blindfold.
“Are you not covering your eyes anymore? Should I put this on as it is?”
“Yes.”
As she laid the Mandlesong-scented cloth over his eyes, his eyelids felt cool and soothed.
“Today, I will tell you the story of the Crown Prince and the beggar.”
Clearing her throat, she began to read in a low, clear voice. Her warmth tickled his ears. Sleep tugged at his senses, but he clung to his waning consciousness; he had missed the sound of her voice far too much to surrender to exhaustion just yet.
“‘The Crown Prince, disguised as a beggar, returned to the Imperial Palace and said to the guard, “I am the Crown Prince.” The guard laughed at him. Having left the palace, the Crown Prince said to an old man passing by, “I am the Crown Prince.” The old man called him a liar and threw stones at him.'”
A life where the real and the fake are swapped, and the fake becomes the truth.
He loathed lies, yet he knew their necessity. As he listened, he realized a woman who could serve as his fake fiancée was already within arm’s reach.
A deep smile spread across the Duke’s lips as the story unfolded.
* * *
The next morning.
A tea table stood in the center of the dark office, flickering candlelight casting long shadows. Sensing Marin’s restless movements, Gerald spoke.
“How is life at the Duke’s estate?”
“Thanks to your great consideration, Your Grace, I am living very comfortably. I am always grateful.”
It was a standard social pleasantry, yet for some reason, he found it immensely amusing.
“Do you like living here?”
Gerald asked, weighing his next words. Would she still like it once she heard his plan?
“Yes. I like it very much.”
“Then, let’s get engaged.”
Gerald dropped the point with calm precision.
“I—I beg your pardon?”
“Is your hearing failing you?”
“No. That is not the case, but…”
“Let’s get engaged.”
“Right, that word… *hiccup.*”
At the expected startled reaction, Gerald swallowed a laugh.
“Your Grace, I think my hearing is failing. I should see the physician at the Duke’s estate, so I shall—”
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
“Shall we return to the point?”
“Yes.”
“Your answers are very short. Did you understand me?”
Gerald stroked his lips with long fingers, concealing a smile.
“Yeees.”
Perhaps sensing his impatience, she offered a drawn-out answer.
“Short is better. And if possible, make it natural.”
“Yes.”
Gerald pondered how to persuade her, then decided to strike at the heart of the matter.
“What do you want?”
“What do you mean…”
“Lady Marin Schventz.”
She stopped breathing. Her fidgeting fingers froze against the tray.
Though he felt a twinge of guilt for making her go rigid, he pressed on.
“When you hid your identity as a noble to work at the Duke’s estate, you must have been searching for something, haven’t you?”