9.
“Temp. Don’t act like Olive.”
“You’re bleeding. I must get you to a doctor immediately.”
The sight of the blood made her heart ache with a stinging sensation. Marin fought the urge to flinch, desperately trying to avert her gaze from the crimson stains.
The faint, metallic scent of blood hung in the air, clinging to the Duke. Just how much had he lost?
“I said I *was* bleeding. Not anymore. Don’t you know the past tense?”
The Duke’s mouth twisted into a crooked, sharp line.
“Yes, I understand. You *were* bleeding. And you aren’t anymore. Is that right? Even so, you must receive treatment. Because you *were* bleeding.”
Marin gritted her teeth, suppressing a surge of irritation.
“It’s fine. I heal quickly.”
His indifference was entirely incomprehensible to her.
“No matter how quickly you heal, you need treatment. We need to find out why you suddenly started bleeding from your ear.”
“It wasn’t sudden.”
The Duke, his eyes obscured by a leather strap, turned his head toward her as if locking eyes.
“Pardon?”
“I pierced my ear.”
“……By whom?”
Marin’s light green pupils trembled. Surely not.
The Duke tilted his head, observing her reaction. He spoke with agonizing slowness.
“……Myself.”
*Wow, jeez. He really is a madman.*
“It’s finally quiet now.”
Satisfaction seeped into the Duke’s low voice.
Marin couldn’t say another word. She pressed her lips shut, and as she went quiet, the Duke turned back to the front.
The room remained cloaked in shadow, yet the image of that blood remained vivid in her mind. A man who would commit such a deranged act—stabbing himself just to cut through the intensity of his pain.
Ironically, for the first time since they met, he looked human.
He didn’t feel like a male lead from a fictional novel anymore; he felt like a man suffering in reality.
She had known that in the original story, this male lead would regain his sight upon meeting the heroine, which was perhaps why she had been so dismissive of his blindness. She had assumed his pain was merely a plot device—a natural, expected tragedy leading to a happy ending.
*Ah, what a foolish thought.*
Only after witnessing his madness did she grasp the scale of his agony. What must it be like to have one’s vision stolen in an instant? It was unimaginable.
Tears welled up before she could stop them, trickling down her cheeks and dripping onto the carpeted floor.
The Duke whipped his head around. Even with his eyes bound by the black strap, it felt as if he were staring straight through her.
“……Why?”
Marin hurriedly wiped her face. Even with his heightened senses, he couldn’t have heard the soft sound of a tear hitting the floor.
“What do you mean?”
“……Nothing.”
An awkward stillness permeated the office.
Just then, Olive returned.
“Your Grace? Marin?”
Olive looked between them, puzzled by their proximity.
“This.”
The Duke curled his thumb and index finger into a circle, signaling for her wrist. There was still room to spare when he held it.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Fill it.”
“Understood.”
Olive replied instantly, his expression professional and unbothered.
Marin watched the exchange, eyes wide. *Excuse me? Are you talking about my wrist like it’s a measurement?*
“Temp.”
The Duke’s face turned toward her again.
“Yes.”
Marin answered reflexively, secretly pouting. She had suspected it earlier, but ‘Temp’? Had she been promoted from ‘Tree Branch’?
“Get a check-up from now on.”
“What should I get checked?”
As if speaking were a chore, he held her wrist up high before letting it drop.
*Ah, the wrist.*
Marin quickly retrieved her hand. *Nice to have you back, my wrist.*
“The report.”
“Yes. Here it is, Marin.”
Olive handed her the documents, as if he had been waiting for the signal.
“Yes.”
*Right, let’s get to work.*
Marin took the report and began to read aloud, her clear, calm voice wrapping warmly around the oppressive atmosphere of the office.
Olive watched, a satisfied smile touching his lips as he saw the Duke’s tense shoulders gradually begin to relax.
***
Marin followed Olive down the hallway, her mind lost in thought.
She had thought she knew the Duke—the male lead of her novel—inside and out, but that had been a dangerous miscalculation. She hadn’t realized he was suffering enough to resort to self-harm.
The problem was, she knew exactly how to soothe that pain.
“No. Absolutely not.”
Marin muttered to herself, shaking her head vigorously. That role belonged to the female lead, not to a side character like her.
She just needed to keep her head down, earn her wages, and disappear quietly. Only then would the novel proceed to its happy ending.
After walking through a corridor draped in black curtains, they reached a brighter, more open hallway. At the end, a light brown door came into view.
“This is the office.”
“It’s quite a distance from the Duke’s office.”
Marin gauged the walk; the estate was so sprawling that traversing the corridors felt like an expedition.
“His Grace prefers things to be very quiet.”
Olive opened the door and stepped inside.
Marin stood at the entrance, surveying the room. A large window let in bright, natural light. One wall was entirely consumed by shelves overflowing with paperwork, while a wide brown desk sat prominently at the front. Near the center were a tea table and sofa, and tucked next to it, a white desk that looked brand new.
Outside of her direct reports to the Duke, she was assigned to assist Olive here.
Olive walked toward the white desk.
“This is your desk, Marin. You will be working here from now on.”
“Thank you.”
Marin felt a rare flicker of excitement. It had been a long time since she’d used such clean, new furniture. Since coming to the Duke’s estate, things were looking up—an incredible weekly wage, a new desk, and a competent superior.
*Let’s exclude the scary Duke from that list.*
Marin turned her gaze to Olive.
“Um, Mr. Olive?”
“Yes, Marin?”
Marin looked into his warm, amber eyes and spoke cautiously.
“The blood from His Grace’s ear……”
“Did you see it?”
Olive asked, his expression sharpening into something bitter.
“Doesn’t he need treatment?”
“His Grace truly hates having anything touch his body. Even for medical treatment.”
“But he really should be treated.”
“I’ve told him many times. It’s no use.”
Shadows fell over Olive’s face, obscuring his usual gentle smile.
“But don’t worry too much. He is very sturdy and heals quickly.”
*Do you also know that he stabbed himself?*
Looking at Olive, who was trying to keep his tone light, Marin swallowed the words she wanted to say.
“Actually, the bigger issue is that he cannot sleep.”
Olive heaved a sigh filled with genuine worry.
“He can’t sleep either?”
“No. Not at all.”
*Why is insomnia a bigger issue than self-inflicted wounds?* Marin didn’t understand, but she nodded anyway.
“My mother used to drink a cup of warm wine when she couldn’t sleep.”
“Is that so?”
Olive’s gaze deepened, watching her curiously. Unaware of his scrutiny, Marin continued earnestly.
“Yes. It worked for her.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope it helps. But, Mr. Olive… I’m just a commoner. Why do you speak so formally to me?”
It was unusual for a noble of his station to maintain such politeness with an assistant.
“You’re my assistant, aren’t you?”
Olive tilted his head, smiling.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“That is the reason.”
“Ah, I see.”
*He really is an unusual noble.*
“Is it uncomfortable for you?”
“No. Please, do as you please, Mr. Olive.”
“Then, would you like to call me by my name from now on?”
Olive beamed.
“Yes, Olive.”
“Good. Marin. Shall we start working then?”
Olive smiled brightly and stacked a mountain of documents onto her desk. The sheer volume was staggering.
Marin stared at the pile with a slightly overwhelmed expression. Olive, meanwhile, hadn’t lost that gentle, pleasant smile.
*I think I’ll hold off on the thought that he’s a ‘good superior’ for now.*
Marin forced an awkward smile and picked up the first document.