Only then did she realize she was a servant, and she hurriedly took his shirt.
As she stood there, blankly clutching the garment, he gestured toward the sofa with a look of frustration. Resting there was the comfortable linen shirt he had discarded.
“M-me?”
“Or would you have me call for another servant while I have one right in front of me?”
At his darkening expression, she had no choice but to take the shirt and approach his semi-nude form.
The moment she slid the sleeves onto his arms—which he extended with practiced ease—her fingertips brushed his bare skin.
Roselia tightened her lips, feigning as much composure as she could, and pulled the shirt up to his shoulders.
It was when she had successfully gotten both sleeves on and stepped closer to his chest to button it that he spoke.
“Since you don’t seem inclined to speak of our business, I shall ask.”
Roselia concentrated on hiding her trembling fingertips, slowly fastening the buttons from the bottom up.
“Is it true that Roselia is dead?”
In an instant, her hands stiffened.
Roselia’s expression hardened as she stared straight ahead.
Could it be… that the Duke had sensed her identity?
His chest, exposed through the half-buttoned shirt, looked even more threatening in the cold night air.
Roselia slowly raised her gaze to meet his eyes.
Cool, navy-blue eyes, like the night sky, looked down at her as if to pierce right through her soul.
“I’ll ask again. Is Roselia De Hessink truly dead?”
Roselia swallowed hard and forced a blunt expression.
“I don’t know what you mean by that…”
Despite her heart hammering against her ribs, her voice remained remarkably calm. She was proud of herself for maintaining such composure while facing his sharp, blade-like gaze.
Staring intently at her, Klaus continued leisurely.
“It’s just as I said. I asked if it is true that Roselia is dead.”
Was he testing her?
When they met in the village of Algrisha, she had assumed he hadn’t seen her clearly, but was he actually seeing through her facade?
Her hands, holding the buttons, were slick with sweat; she felt as though she might drop them. Still, Roselia feigned indifference and slowly finished buttoning his shirt.
“Your jokes are excessive.”
Suddenly, Klaus grabbed the wrist of the hand that was buttoning his shirt.
“Do I look like I’m joking to you?”
The grip on her wrist made her brow furrow involuntarily. But she tried not to show any panic, meeting his eyes even more boldly.
Because she was standing so close to finish the buttons, she could feel his ragged breathing against her face.
“I don’t know why you would ask such a question, but that is a cruel thing to say to a brother who has lost his sister.”
At her display of indignation, Klaus released her wrist and sat back on the sofa, sweeping his bangs from his forehead.
“If it is true that your sister is dead, then I have cause to apologize. But on the other hand, if all of this is an act, I would almost want to applaud you.”
“…”
“Antonio De Hessink.”
A chill emanated from Klaus’s voice as he spoke her name.
“It would be best if you answered properly. If you treated a living sister as deceased out of some pathetic familial love and whisked her away, the losses on my end would be substantial.”
What kind of nonsense was this? Could it be…
Roselia, who had been staring at Klaus with wide eyes, swallowed a dry breath as a sudden realization dawned on her.
He didn’t suspect her of being Roselia; he thought she had spirited her sister away.
Perhaps the familiarity he felt in the village of Algrisha was merely the resemblance he suspected between the siblings.
It was absurd, yet in a way, it was a relief.
However, she couldn’t admit to any such thing, so she maintained a poker face and spoke calmly.
“You are being very harsh. If that girl were truly alive, why would I leave her to fend for herself in the cruel outside world? It would be far better for her to stay at the ducal estate, even as a maid.”
It was true. The treatment of the servants at the ducal estate was far better than that of commoners. In fact, commoners often sought positions there. No matter how high one’s birth, once a title was lost, they were forced into a life no different from the common folk.
If not for the pride of having once been an aristocrat, it was a hundred times better to be a servant at the estate than to roam the back alleys and starve.
“I don’t know what you might have seen, but she is not a biological sister with whom I share blood. I don’t think our appearances are that similar.”
At Roselia’s unwavering gaze, Klaus’s momentum faltered.
If he thought about it, he realized he didn’t clearly remember the appearance of that woman.
Yet, he didn’t know why he had been so certain in cornering Antonio. As the man said, they weren’t related by a single drop of blood; suspecting them just because their eye color or aura seemed similar was an irrational judgment.
That strange scent coming from Antonio right now… this fragrance, which had also wafted from that woman, must have clouded his mind.
Even now, as they were alone in the room, the subtle, lingering scent grated on his nerves. His senses felt hypersensitive, and a headache surged.
In the end, Klaus clutched his head and spoke irritably.
“My apologies. I admit I cornered you over something I wasn’t even certain about.”
As he apologized so readily, Roselia let out a sigh of relief.
However, she watched him with curiosity, as he looked genuinely uncomfortable. Klaus waved his hand as if her gaze was a burden and rose from his seat.
“I’m tired. You may leave.”
At the dismissal, Roselia bowed without a word and hurried out.
Only once she was outside did her legs begin to tremble, as if the tight string of tension that had held her together finally snapped.
She belatedly realized she hadn’t managed to ask the questions she came for, but she decided it was a stroke of luck that she had safely navigated a situation as perilous as a brush with death.
* * *
Unexpectedly, the opportunity arrived as if it had been waiting for her.
A tea party at the Marquess’s estate, which she was to attend as an *Il Domestico* following Closette.
Why hadn’t she thought of this before?
The Herden Marquess estate, where Closette was to attend, was the parental home of the Crown Princess. And Ikelia, the young lady of the Marquess whom they were to meet today, was the younger sister of the Crown Princess Evelionne.
This meant she could gain access to the Crown Princess through this opportunity without needing to ask the Duke.
Roselia stood behind the dozen or so young ladies gathered at the tea party, her eyes constantly tracking Ikelia’s reactions.
Because the event was held at the Crown Princess’s parental home, the scale was larger than previous gatherings, and several other young ladies had brought their *Il Domestico* along, just like Closette.
Handsome men waited far behind the tea tables, busy keeping each other in check with sharp glances.
Of course, most of those gazes were directed toward Roselia.
But Roselia didn’t care about the power struggles among the *Il Domestico*. Her mind was busy calculating how to bring up the subject of paintings to the Marquess’s daughter; she had no room to spare for her surroundings.
“Oh my, the *Il Domestico* here are truly handsome. It’s embarrassing to say, but Lady Closette’s *Il Domestico* is among them…”
“The most handsome of them all, isn’t he?”
Closette, who never missed a cue, replied with a proud shrug.
Roselia, watching from behind, had to suppress a laugh.
“Yes, he is a delicate beauty, hard to find among the rough and blunt men of Rugvelzet.”
*That’s because I’m a woman…*
Roselia murmured to herself and offered a bright smile toward Ikelia, who was watching her.
Ikelia blushed, covering her mouth to giggle pleasantly.
“Hmph, a man should be sturdy and masculine. Will someone as frail as that even do a proper job as a servant?”
It was the comment of a young lady sitting opposite Closette.
Was she the daughter of the Belmont Marquess? She remembered the name being Jucid.
Whatever—Delmont Juice or whatever—she had been picking fights for no reason, and she didn’t leave a good impression. Closette didn’t seem to care, acting as if the Belmont lady’s provocation was a common occurrence.
Since her mistress remained silent, there was no need for her to step forward, so Roselia let it slide.
Feeling humiliated that her words were ignored, Jucid turned bright red.
“Now that I think of it, Lady Closette, you have your hair tied up today? I see a few other young ladies with similar updos. It looks neat and cool. Is that the trending hairstyle?”
As the Marquess’s daughter praised Closette’s hair, Closette excitedly opened her mouth.
“Isn’t it? Antonio styled this for me. He styled Lady Madeline’s hair a while back, and it seems it became a trend.”
“Oh my, how delicate of him.”
As the Marquess’s daughter praised him, Jucid let out a snort.
Observing this, Roselia smiled and approached Jucid.
“If you don’t mind, may I also style your hair, Lady Jucid?”
“What?”
It was never wise to make enemies in the social world. It was better to build connections with influential figures and gather information.
Moreover, if it were the daughter of a Marquess, the effort was worth it.
Since most of the girls at this gathering were either debuting or about to, winning them over was as easy as candy.
Roselia had been a woman in her previous life, and before possessing the novel, she had been an office worker who endured the harsh bullying of senior female staff.
“It may be presumptuous to say, but your face shape, Lady Jucid, is one that would be even more highlighted by an updo.”
“R-really?”
The more a person liked to pick on others, the more likely they were to be attention-starved or emotionally deprived. Like a trainer taming a monkey, Roselia skillfully dangled the bait and brought her under control.
“Of course. Lady Jucid, you have a youthful appearance, so putting your hair up would add a more mature image.”
“Well then…”
Before long, Jucid, who had naturally entrusted her hair to Roselia, grew flustered and docile.
Watching Roselia, Ikelia whispered quietly to Closette.
“It’s truly a wondrous thing to make Lady Jucid so quiet.”
Closette, who had been looking at Roselia’s sycophancy with a displeased expression, saw Ikelia’s positive reaction and took the opportunity to speak cautiously.
“Isn’t it? He is my *Il Domestico*, but he is very quick-witted and works well. Moreover, he has an exceptional aesthetic sense, so I am surprised myself from time to time.”
Closette delivered the lines Roselia had requested with natural ease, even acting out her amazement. Ikelia, her curiosity piqued, asked in a questioning tone.
“He has an exceptional aesthetic sense?”
“Yes, he has a different eye for viewing art. The fact that the Duke himself recognizes it says it all. Plus, since he was once from a noble family, there is little concern of him being rude to the Crown Princess.”
As she praised her even by selling the name of Klaus, whom she detested, Ikelia looked very intrigued.