“Her Grace, may I come in?”
It was Mason’s voice.
“Come in.”
Blair handed Pippi’s milk bottle to Mely and walked over to the table, where the documents she had organized earlier waited. As Mason approached, she held them out.
“I’ve drafted a budget based on the records from the last five years. Please, take a look.”
Mason was privately stunned. Blair had requested the old files, but he never truly expected her to compile a budget herself. He had assumed she would find the sea of numbers dizzying and give up after a cursory glance.
Deciding her persistence alone was worth rewarding, he began to review her work.
Blair stood by, wringing her fingers, unable to mask her nervousness. It felt exactly like being a child again, waiting for a teacher to grade her homework.
Mason examined the draft with his usual stoic intensity, his brows gradually furrowing. As the silence stretched, a fraying Blair spoke up first.
“I drafted it as a practice run. Please, don’t hesitate to tell me if I’ve missed anything.”
“No, this is truly excellent. It is hard to believe this is your first time drafting one alone.”
Blair widened her eyes, stunned by the genuine awe in his voice. Mason was not a man to overstep, nor was he one to offer hollow flattery. This was sincere.
“It would be perfectly fine to implement this year’s budget based on this proposal.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
It was the first time she had been praised by anyone since Esmeralda died. In her previous life, all praise had been reserved for her brother, Ivan. Katrina had never wanted Blair to outshine him; if the Emperor ever bestowed a gift upon Blair, Katrina would watch her with jealous eyes, as if Blair had stolen a portion of Ivan’s birthright.
The most delicious, the most precious things always belonged to Ivan. If Blair possessed something he did not, Katrina would snatch it away to give to her son.
Thirsting for even a drop of maternal affection, Blair had learned to bury her talents. She always stayed one step behind, never daring to shine, yet never allowed to be a disgrace. She had lived twenty years in that shadow, until she had forgotten her own worth. Accepting her inferiority to Ivan had become a reflex.
To hear such praise now made her throat ache.
*Ah, I can do it, too.*
*I have value. I can be acknowledged.*
The realization, long buried, finally flickered to life.
“Of course, there are some areas that could be refined, however…”
Mason began to point out corrections with a polite, precise manner. Blair acted as a model student, ruminating on his every word.
Just as the review concluded, a knock echoed, and Lina entered.
“Your Grace, just now—”
Lina began, then spotted Mason and froze. Mason, with tactful grace, bowed and left the room. Now, only Blair, Mely—who was still distracted by Pippi—and Lina remained.
Lina glanced at Mely, then leaned in to whisper, so only Blair could hear.
“I’ve received a message from the Guild, Your Grace.”
* * *
“The mana crystal mine recently discovered in the Northwest is being mined smoothly. The projected reserves are…”
Headrin stared at the passing scenery, his eyes vacant. The voice of Ruth, who was reporting on business matters, flowed past him like the wind.
Everything was going smoothly—the business, and the search for Blair’s lost memories.
A few days ago, Agnes had provided an interim report. It had been one month since the sessions began. Agnes had opted to trace back from happy memories rather than dredging up the traumatic ones. She noted that while many clients distrusted their counselors, Blair was opening up with surprising speed.
‘The Late Empress appears very often in the Duchess’s happy memories. Perhaps that is why she didn’t try to find her memories so desperately. She was afraid to confirm that the person she trusted most might have truly tried to kill her.’
‘Even if that person might have been falsely accused?’
‘She suffered a major physical injury in the accident. When she awoke, she had no memory, and everyone told her that person was her attacker…’
‘…….’
‘Under the circumstances, she would have naturally believed it. She didn’t want to believe the Queen Mother was a liar, and she didn’t want to face the possibility that the late Empress had truly intended to kill her.’
‘A selfish way of thinking.’
‘My Lord. At the time, the Duchess was only eleven years old.’
Agnes had defended her, insisting that a child that young could hardly be expected to hold such complex perspectives. ‘And you, My Lord, also appear often in her happy memories.’
‘……Me?’
‘She must trust, rely on, and love you that much. It would be wise to talk to her about that period yourself.’
Headrin had brushed off the suggestion with a cynical laugh. Love? It was a ridiculous notion. It was likely just because he was Esmeralda’s nephew that he appeared so frequently. He didn’t know what the current Blair felt for him, but judging by her recent actions, it certainly wasn’t love.
Since the day she was spotted visiting the Guild, she had stopped going out for personal errands.
‘She’s probably waiting for the Guild’s contact.’
Sneaking behind his back, spouting nonsense about seeing the future. Yet, whenever he looked at her clear, guileless face, he worried that his suspicion was a misunderstanding. She had even predicted the appearance of the magical beasts.
No, perhaps he just wanted to believe that. That must be why he felt so foul.
*It’s a dangerously complacent thought.*
Headrin felt a flicker of self-derision. That was why he had kept his distance since the New Year’s Festival. He had no intention of falling for that innocent face and being deceived again.
The carriage rolled past the center of the Capital, heading behind the theater. Headrin’s gaze wandered, then snagged on a figure stepping out of a hired carriage. The silhouette was unmistakable.
A small frame, platinum blonde hair tucked beneath a dark green robe, and small, snow-white hands visible for a split second.
Headrin’s brows knit together. He recognized her instantly.
There were no escort knights in sight. Of course, he had ordered his men to shadow her, so they were likely lurking nearby, but his chest tightened with a strange, dark agitation. Blair entered the theater’s back entrance with her maid.
“……My Lord? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”
Ruth paused his report, noticing his employer’s distraction. Headrin didn’t bother to deny it; he simply tilted his head toward the theater.
“Do you know what is playing at that theater these days?”
Ruth sighed, but answered obediently, knowing how volatile Headrin had been lately.
“They are performing a play based on ancient heroic tales—those involving divine beasts.”
“…….”
“But that’s just a facade. While it is a theater on the surface, it’s an open secret that the noble lords use it for private meetings.”
Political marriages were the norm, and so were lovers. However, nobles still valued their reputation; even if it was common knowledge, they did not display such affairs openly.
“……Secret meeting?”
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
*A secret meeting.*
Suddenly, a name that had once slipped through his wife’s lips surfaced in his mind: *Aziel.*
Headrin’s eyes, fixed on the back entrance where Blair had vanished, turned cold and sunken.
* * *
The theater manager seemed to have been expecting her. He greeted Blair at the back entrance and handed a ticket to Lina.
“You may follow the attendant over there, young lady.”
“M-me?”
Lina widened her eyes in surprise. Blair, sensing the intention to separate them, offered a small smile.
“Yes, go enjoy it, Lina. I have someone to meet.”
“I-is that really all right?”
“Yes. I’m quite comfortable on my own.”
Lina took the ticket and followed the attendant, her face bright with excitement. The manager then led Blair to the top-floor lounge—a private, high-security space for VIPs.
As she entered, Mihail, who had been nursing a glass of wine by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the stage, turned around.