28.
“So, attacking me is helping me?”
He asked persistently, his voice resonating low.
“No. That’s not it at all.”
Marin was startled, shaking her head rapidly. Cold sweat trickled down her back, and she barely held back the urge to grab the trolley and retreat.
“You said it touches the body.”
“No, not me—something else. If you’re asking what that is…”
Flustered, Marin rambled, casting her gaze down at the paste on the plate. Yes, that. As she tried to continue, he cut her off sharply.
“You’re going to attack me with something else? A knife? Spies always use knives, don’t they? Am I right?”
“Ehhhh?”
Marin’s light green eyes widened at his terrifying words. She gripped the handle of the trolley so tightly her knuckles whitened, fighting the sudden, dangerous impulse to slap those handsome, infuriating lips.
“Are you admitting it now?”
The corners of his lips curled into a crooked smirk.
“No! No, it’s not that. Absolutely not. That’s not it at all. I was wrong.”
If she kept this up, she would be misunderstood yet again. Marin shook her head vigorously, denying it with every fiber of her being.
“What were you wrong about?”
He asked lazily, leaning deep into his chair.
“I just feel like everything I do is wrong.”
Marin whispered, her shoulders slumping in dejection. She had tried to help the Duke, only to be branded a spy once more.
“Ahem.”
That cough sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. She snapped her head up, but the Duke remained sitting there with an indifferent expression.
“Your Grace, I don’t think it’s a good time. Should I come back later?”
“Without helping?”
“It just seems like you’re misunderstanding me… It really isn’t something like a knife, it’s just a paste.”
“Paste?”
“Yes, yes. It’s made by grinding flowers into a paste, and it has a cooling effect.”
“I don’t have a fever.”
The Duke replied listlessly.
“It’s good for headaches, too, and people naturally have a slight fever from time to time. You’ll find it’s really good if you try it.”
As Marin spoke, a wave of disillusionment washed over her. If she could only see his eyes, she was certain he would be looking at her as if to say, ‘Where are you trying to peddle your medicine?’
“No fever.”
“It’s truly the most cooling thing in the world. They say in other regions, people only use this…”
So what if she was peddling medicine? As long as he got better.
“Imsi.”
He called her name low, like a warning.
“Please. Just once. Try it just once, and if it’s no good, I won’t do it again. Okay?”
Marin pressed her hands together and begged earnestly. Since she couldn’t make him eat it, she had to at least apply it to his eyes.
“Haa, go ahead.”
“Yes. Thank you, thank you!”
Marin was so relieved she began to bow, then stopped abruptly. *Geez, this is all for his own good.* She didn’t understand why she had to be the one thanking him.
Marin pursed her lips and smeared a generous amount of the paste onto the cloth. She had intentionally brought a wide, thin strip to cover his forehead and eyes. The Duke remained still, his head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully approaching him, she lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Then, excuse me.”
The Duke gave a silent, slight nod.
Holding her breath, Marin used her fingers to gently brush aside the black hair covering his forehead. A pitch-black silk band was revealed, obscuring his eyes. Marin looked at it with a gaze full of pity. She wanted to remove the band, but she held back, fearing that if she tried, she would be accused of something far worse than being a spy.
“I’m going to apply it now.”
Marin placed the cloth, heavy with paste, onto his forehead and eyes. She meticulously smoothed it out so the mixture wouldn’t drip.
“Why put it on my eyes?”
“Because it’s good to cool the eyes, too. It’s a folk remedy. To lower a fever, it helps to draw the heat out from the eyes as well.”
“Does that folk remedy not mention that you shouldn’t use it on someone who has no fever in the first place?”
“All done.”
Marin pretended she hadn’t heard him. Just as she was about to straighten her hunched back, the Duke suddenly grabbed her wrist. Her face was still inches from his. Worried that her breath might reach him, she swallowed hard and asked quietly.
“Why?”
“An inspection.”
“Ah, yes.”
His red lips were right before her eyes. They were a vibrant, beautiful color, even without the vanity of a young lady’s cosmetics. He was scrutinizing her wrist size today of all days. Because she was still leaning over, her back was beginning to ache.
“It’s the same.”
“I told you, I’m already fully grown.”
“Grow more.”
“Yes.”
If he says to grow, she has to grow. She answered hurriedly, desperate to straighten her back. Finally, he released her wrist. Marin stepped away and took a sharp, hurried breath to compensate for the one she had been holding. *I thought I was going to suffocate.*
Walking back to the trolley, she picked up the storybook.
“Today’s story is ‘The Crow Who Repaid Kindness’.”
“Was there such a fairy tale?”
“Yes.”
…There wasn’t.
She had just written it by scouring her old memories, and she could see the dense lines of text she had transcribed onto paper tucked between the pages. She felt like the crow in the story, so deeply had she identified with it. Since there were no magpies in this world, she had changed the protagonist to a crow.
Originally, it was a short folk tale, but the version she had written—full of the protagonist’s hardships and their friendship with the crow—didn’t finish until well over an hour had passed.
“…Although the crow had lied, the Count finally realized all the things the crow had done for him. Having repaid the kindness, the crow flew high into the sky. And so, the Count lived happily, forever grateful to the crow.”
Marin closed the book with a proud face, moved by the story she had crafted herself. The Count was the Duke, and the crow was her. It was a story written with the earnest hope that even if her lies were discovered, he wouldn’t kill her.
Of course, the Duke probably hadn’t noticed.
He was quiet; perhaps he had fallen asleep. Reading the storybook a few times had taught her that the moment she finished, the Duke seemed to wake up. That was why she had chosen such a long story—to ensure he slept as long as possible.
Setting the book down, she picked up the damp towel she had prepared. She walked toward the Duke, stepping softly to keep her footsteps silent. He was even more motionless than usual today.
*Is he still asleep?*
Marin whispered in the smallest voice she could manage.
“I’m going to remove the cloth.”
The moment she reached out, the Duke’s hand swiftly caught her wrist.
“What is this?”
The Duke’s voice, low and sunken, sounded ominous.
“Yes?”
Startled, Marin’s pupils shook violently.
“This paste. What is it?”
“It’s just some weed that grows by the roadside.”
*Why is he suddenly showing interest?* Marin chose her words as carefully as she could.
“Is it the flower you said you ate yesterday?”
“How did you know?”
“It smells the same.”
*Wow, sharp nose.* Marin admired him inwardly while keeping her tension high. She couldn’t let him know it was a poisonous herb.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“This is a folk remedy to lower a fever?”
The Duke asked again, as if to confirm.
“Yes.”
“What is the flower’s name?”
“The name… it’s Mandlesong.”
Marin hesitated, but then squeezed her eyes shut and said it. Even though it was listed in the book of poisonous herbs, she hadn’t fed it to him directly. She had even heard it was a folk remedy from Yuria. Marin trembled inwardly, watching the Duke’s expression.
*It’ll be fine, right?*
The Duke removed the cloth himself. Marin quickly handed him the damp towel.
“Would you like to wipe it off? I’ll wipe it for—”
“Forget it.”
Snatching the towel, he wiped his forehead and eyes roughly and threw it onto the desk. Marin gathered the cloth and towel, quickly backing away.
“Your Grace, then I will be taking my leave now.”
Unlike other times, the Duke was sitting with a serious expression, his brow deeply furrowed. Fearful that she might get caught in the fallout for no reason, Marin quickly pushed the trolley and left.
“Kay.”
“…”
Kay appeared before the Duke and knelt.
“Mandlesong. Investigate everything.”