Chapter 19.
“You lunatic……”
“Would I have been able to become a secret operative for Duke Cedric Kaylas if I weren’t at least this crazy? Hmm……. It’s still such a thrilling title. ‘Secret operative’.”
“Please, just stop it already…….”
Cedric felt his spine tingle with a sharp, empathetic embarrassment.
His friend, Edgar, might have carried the veneer of a profligate, but he possessed a remarkably sharp mind and exceptional adaptability.
Cedric had assumed that ‘studying abroad’ was the most natural way to dispatch him to the Kingdom of Candia as an intelligence gatherer. Had he known Edgar’s father, Count Dawson, would doubt his son’s ‘sincerity’ so deeply, he would have manufactured a different excuse.
Cedric’s head throbbed, but Edgar wore a face of complete nonchalance.
“Anyway, I got scolded severely by my father and kicked out. So, let me sponge off you here. You wouldn’t coldly cut off an intelligence gatherer who is on the verge of estrangement from his family for the sake of his work, would you?”
It wasn’t a wrong statement, and having him nearby was convenient for organizing information, so there was no reason to refuse.
“There are plenty of empty rooms. Pick one.”
“Living as the Duke Kaylas’s right-hand man isn’t bad at all. You’re even providing rooms without a second thought. Hahaha!”
The idle chatter with Edgar finally died down.
The two remained in silence for a while, quietly drinking tea.
But during that time, Cedric was not thinking about Edgar’s near-rift with his father, but rather reflecting on Harriet. The woman who had been abandoned at the convent, severed from her guardianship.
‘Did I make a mistake?’
At the time, he had been flustered after losing his father’s keepsake, and he had taken the word of others that Harriet had been flaunting the brooch to show off, believing it at face value.
He had taken a step back, thinking he had been mistaken due to her truly aggrieved reaction, and assumed that was enough.
‘But because of that commotion, one woman’s life was ruined…….’
It was rare for him to regret his decisions, but he had to admit that in that instance, he had been far too rash.
Just then, Edgar, having swallowed the cookie he’d put in his mouth, asked.
“By the way, where are you planning to visit during this year’s Feast Day week?”
After a moment of hesitation, Cedric replied.
“This year, I intend to visit St. Clarissa’s Convent. They sent nursing personnel during the Kifren War, and I still haven’t expressed my gratitude.”
There was another reason for his visit, but he didn’t feel the need to explain that part.
* * *
The final week of the year was called ‘Feast Day week’.
The Feast of St. Antonio, the Feast of St. Valencia, and the Feast of St. Miyende followed one after another. During that time, it was customary for nobles to visit the temples or convents they had ties with to offer prayers and donations.
Curious onlookers were interested in where the war hero, Cedric, would make his first visit after the victory, but he kept his schedule private and headed to St. Clarissa’s Convent.
The convent, having received notice late, had to welcome him without any special preparations.
“Welcome, Duke Kaylas. I am Mother Catherine, the head of the convent.”
“Nice to meet you. I am Cedric Kaylas. I contacted you as late as possible so as not to burden the convent, and I hope it hasn’t caused any inconvenience.”
“I was a bit surprised, but I fully understand your intent.”
Catherine felt a strange sensation regarding Cedric’s demeanor.
He was remarkably polite, never acting haughty or expecting special treatment. Yet, she felt a barrier—a transparent, yet impenetrable wall.
‘Is this what a difference in class feels like?’
It was a sensation she hadn’t felt even when meeting the Pope; she struggled to gauge him. However, it was certain that he was more courteous than any other donor she had met.
Cedric listened intently to Catherine’s explanations as she guided him through the interior, occasionally asking earnest questions and showing genuine interest in the convent.
He even insisted on touring the farm and facilities outside, despite the biting cold.
“An olive farm in a convent—that’s unique.”
“It is common in convents for women. The income from processing and selling the harvest here makes up a large part of our operating costs.”
“Is that only for women’s convents?”
“For most of them.”
Catherine answered with a bitter note.
Cedric did not pry further. He turned his head elsewhere, toward several shabby wooden buildings standing scattered in the yard.
“What is that place?”
“Ah! Those are the workshops. That one is where we press olive oil, and over there, we make soap. In this building, we create herb-related products, and……”
Catherine’s explanation continued, but Cedric’s gaze was fixed on the soap workshop, specifically on the woman visible through the window opened for ventilation.
‘That is…… that has to be her.’
Her mottled skin had cleared, but her features hadn’t changed, making her easy to recognize.
However, her condition was unexpected. She wore shabby arm covers that seemed to have been mended several times, and she was stirring something in a cauldron with a ladle while tapping her waist, looking exhausted.
A faint crease formed on Cedric’s brow.
For nobles, ‘work’ meant reading, analyzing, and investing; it did not mean physical labor. Even those imprisoned for crimes were rarely forced into such manual toil.
Yet here, Harriet was being mobilized for tasks meant only for commoner nuns. Even if it were a method of asceticism, wasn’t this a bit too much?
‘I thought she’d be spending her time idly, reading books or doing needlepoint.’
Did being cut off from the House of Listerwell mean she was immediately treated as a commoner?
Cedric glanced at her one last time, then naturally resumed his conversation with Catherine as they moved away.
When they returned to the small parlor to sit, he didn’t beat around the bush; he simply produced the donation.
“Please use this for a good cause.”
The box he handed over was filled with bundles of 100-Dirham bills. It looked to be roughly 100,000 Dirhams.
When Catherine widened her eyes in surprise, Cedric said as if it were nothing.
“It looks like a lot because of the volume, but since they are small denominations, it’s not actually much. I thought small denominations would be more convenient for you to use.”
Though he claimed it wasn’t much, it was the largest donation Catherine had ever received. For St. Clarissa’s Convent, which held little power in religious circles and operated on a small scale, a donation of 10,000 Dirhams was a rare windfall.
“This will be a great help to the convent’s operation. Thank you, Duke.”
“You are welcome. I am the one who received great help when you dispatched skilled nursing personnel during the Kifren War. This is far from enough to repay that, but donating a large amount at once would invite unnecessary attention.”
Catherine was surprised that he remembered that event. They had only sent five nuns and monks trained in herbal medicine.
“Thank you very much for remembering this small convent. And for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit.”
Catherine expressed her gratitude once more. The atmosphere shifted toward his departure, but instead, Cedric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“By the way, could I request a meeting with someone?”
“Pardon? A meeting? Who would you like to see?”
“Harriet Listerwell. The young lady who arrived about half a year ago.”
Only then recalling the scandal involving Harriet and Cedric, Catherine hesitated, her expression flustered. However, it wasn’t easy to tell Cedric that it was difficult, especially as he was a man waiting for what he deemed a matter-of-course request—and one who had just provided a massive donation.
“Pl, please wait a moment.”
Catherine hurried to find Harriet and explained the situation. Harriet had come running from the soap workshop.
“If you are uncomfortable, Sister, you do not have to meet him. There are plenty of excuses I can make.”
But Harriet didn’t think she had any reason to avoid Cedric.
Hadn’t she told him clearly back then? That it wasn’t her doing.
Whether he believed her or not was his choice, but just because he thought she was a sinner didn’t mean she actually became one.
“It’s fine. It seems he wants to see if I’m repenting properly.”
Harriet brushed off the dirty sleeves of her work clothes, tidied her hair, and followed Catherine into the parlor.
The man’s face, which turned toward her a beat late, was the same one she hadn’t been able to forget even after half a year.
“Long time no see, Duke.”
“Indeed. Have you been well?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t offer a long answer. There was no need to.
Harriet sat opposite Cedric.
She had given a slight smile to Catherine as she entered, but she could not manage one for Cedric, who was practically the culprit behind her exile. Of course, he didn’t seem to care much.
“You asked for me.”