3.
Marin sat on the sofa in the servant’s lounge, her legs trembling beneath her.
*I’ve made it this far. Can I really do this?*
Just as she was trying to calm her racing heart, the door clicked open. A man walked in—handsome, with a gentle aura and slightly downturned eyes. His chestnut hair was soft, his hazel eyes warm, and a mild smile was naturally etched onto his lips.
Olive Lion.
The name of the Duke of Vines’ assistant—a supporting character in the novel—flashed through Marin’s mind.
“Ms. Marin?”
“Yes. I am Marin.”
She jumped to her feet and bowed.
“I am Olive Lion.”
As expected, it was him.
“Please, sit.” He gestured toward the seat with a soft voice.
“Yes.” Marin answered, swallowing hard.
It had never felt so real that she was living inside a novel. Facing a character from the book for the first time made her heart pound and cold sweat prickle down her back. As she sat, she kept her posture rigid with tension.
“Your handwriting is very neat.” Olive, holding the resume she had painstakingly forged, expressed his admiration.
“Thank you.”
“Where did you learn to write?”
“I have worked in noble households since I was young. The young lady and young master I served were near my age, so they taught me quite a bit.”
Marin lied with as much sincerity as she could muster.
“I see. It is rare for a woman to be literate. That is an unusual background.”
“Yes….” Marin replied, her voice timid.
A commoner woman who learned to read and write? She knew how strange that sounded and instinctively shrank back. Most noble ladies did not learn these skills; they built their status by practicing instruments or appreciating art. But Marin had begged her father to teach her and had eventually severed ties with the few noblewomen she knew, finding the time spent with books far more valuable than shallow social gatherings.
Perhaps she had been a bibliophile in her past life, which explained her obsession in this one. After her family’s ruin, it hadn’t been easy to earn a living as a noble lady. She had been forced to borrow her dead brother’s name and pose as a boy. If she hadn’t remembered her past life, she never would have dared to attempt this.
She had been just another typical, sheltered noble lady. Employers who liked her efficiency often wanted to keep her, but she had to change jobs frequently to avoid discovery.
“Actually, if it weren’t for a recommendation, this position wouldn’t exist. You know that, don’t you?” Olive’s voice pulled her abruptly from her thoughts.
“Yes….” Her voice dimmed, dejected.
This opportunity had been created through the recommendation of a superior she had known while working as a man.
“I heard that a boy named Marion would be coming to assist me. I must say, I was quite surprised when a woman appeared.”
“Marion is my younger brother, but he left to work in the capital. This is a great opportunity to work for the Duke of Vines, and I didn’t want to let it pass.”
Marin concocted her story as politely as possible. She had considered dressing as a man again, but to be truly helpful to the Duke, appearing as her authentic self felt more comfortable.
“I see. However, the Duke’s estate already has enough female servants. And the hiring of female staff is the Head Maid’s authority, not mine.”
“I—I am not applying as a servant, but as an assistant to you, Mr. Olive.”
“Ah, that is a bit problematic. If that’s the case, then understand that—”
“You will need me!” Marin cut him off.
“Me?” A look of doubt flickered in his hazel eyes.
“No. His Grace, the Duke, will.”
The look in Olive’s eyes—usually kind and downturned—turned sharp in an instant. “What does that mean?”
“There isn’t a soul in this Western territory who doesn’t know about the unfortunate accident that befell His Grace.”
Marin swallowed a dry lump in her throat and continued, bolder now.
“Ms. Marin? Do you know what you are saying?”
Olive’s face, previously smiling, stiffened like stone. Marin ignored his sharp gaze, stood, and scanned the room.
“Ms. Marin?” Olive called out, struggling to keep his voice calm.
But Marin remained focused. Books. She needed a book. Since it was a servant’s lounge, there were none in sight.
“Ms. Marin!”
His voice, now drained of patience, was sharp as a blade.
At that moment, she spotted a book tucked away on the windowsill. She snatched it up and began to read with all her heart.
“‘Where do monsters come from?’”
“What are you doing?”
Marin set him aside and focused on the text.
“‘Why do they come? Many scholars raise this discourse, but not a single one has found the answer. Perhaps that is why? Some scholars have fallen for a theory that cannot even be proven. It is that the ecology of monsters changes gradually to suit their surrounding environment. Most scholars do not agree with this. Count Blusher, a historian who called this theory a piece of utter nonsense… shall I continue?’”
Olive, who had been listening with his eyes closed, snapped them open. He looked bewildered, as if he hadn’t realized he had closed them at all.
“When His Grace finds it inconvenient to read documents, I can read them for you like this. My voice will be more comfortable to listen to than yours, Mr. Olive.”
That was it. In her past life, she had been a narrator. She hadn’t intended to utilize her previous profession unless she was truly starving, but this was her chance.
“For a moment, please, sit.” Olive, masking his disorientation, offered her the sofa once more.
“Yes.” She clutched the book as if it were her savior.
“First, unfortunately, I do not have the authority to hire you, Ms. Marin.”
“Ah….” Marin couldn’t continue; she bit her lip.
The rent, her mother’s medicine, food costs, and the approaching winter—she would need money for firewood. Before her eyes, she saw an illusion of gold with wings flying far away into the sky. She hung her head, her expression one of utter frustration.
“But you really do read well. Honestly, I am surprised. It is a truly special talent.”
At some point, Olive’s eyes had softened, and he looked at her with favor.
“……Thank you.”
Marin murmured a faint response, still hanging her head. Hearing praise didn’t make her happy right now.
“If I were just looking for a general assistant, I could handle that myself, but reading documents to His Grace is a different matter. I will try to recommend you to His Grace.”
“Yes? Really?” Her head snapped up.
“Yes. Let’s give it a try. I was actually troubled by that very problem already.”
Olive gave a wry smile. After the Duke lost his sight, reading documents was his duty. The Duke had a meticulous personality and would not overlook a single sheet of paper. He had constantly cycled between being able to manage the workload or suffering from his condition, leaving important matters of the Duke’s estate piling up.
Olive studied the woman before him, clutching the book with both hands in nervousness. Her dress was clean but worn; her wrists were thin beneath her sleeves; her frame was small and slender. Her platinum blonde hair, tied up, shone faintly under the sunlight but lacked luster. Her skin was snow-white, her eyes like spring buds, her lips pale pink.
She was cute, but her colors were so light that she left a blurred impression.
But the voice that had been reading the book was the exact opposite.