135. How Much Do You Like Me?
“I’ve come here before to meet the young duke, but it seems this is my first time meeting you, Lady. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Ah, yes.”
Marquis Balton spoke with formal courtesy, but I regarded him with a sour expression.
His smile seemed warm, yet I couldn’t read what lay behind it.
Once inside the drawing room, he opened the conversation first.
“I hear you’ve been doing quite well in business lately. I thought you were simply a refined young lady, but I hadn’t realized you were so ambitious.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The marquis chuckled.
“No need to beat around the bush—it’s about the trade with the Kingdom of Pylon. My lady, you would do well to withdraw at this point.”
“…!”
“With His Highness the Crown Prince stepping down from the position, wouldn’t it be meaningless for you to remain involved any further?”
That was true.
I had originally taken charge of the diplomatic negotiations in the capacity of Crown Princess-to-be. Now that the crown prince was out of the picture, there was no reason for me to step forward alone.
But hearing those words from someone else’s lips was another matter entirely.
So he’s telling me to get out of the way?
I felt a twinge of displeasure, but kept my composure as I replied.
“Don’t worry. Just as you said, I have no intention of meddling in a trade deal without His Highness’s presence.”
“Is that so.”
His eyes gleamed with greedy satisfaction.
In truth, I wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Pylon trade.
If someone else desired the position so desperately, I had no reason to hold on to it.
“Well then, is that all you came here for?”
“Of course not, my lady.”
Just as I was about to dismiss him, Marquis Balton lingered stubbornly.
“Surely someone must take the place of His Highness and yourself, no?”
“And?”
“For the sake of successful negotiations, I would like you to recommend me as the successor.”
“Huh?”
First he told me to step aside, and now he wanted me to put in a good word for him with His Majesty?
“This mission is significant not only for the Kingdom of Pylon, but also for our Empire. I will see to it that nothing tarnishes the honor of the Imperial family—or your own reputation.”
“But, Marquis.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“You came all the way to me, with whom you’ve had little to no prior contact. That must mean you failed to elicit the response you wanted from His Majesty or His Highness, doesn’t it?”
“…!”
The smile vanished from Balton’s lips.
“If you’re so desperate for the position, shouldn’t convincing His Majesty come first?”
“…”
“How can someone incapable of persuading His Majesty possibly hope to lead something as important as a diplomatic mission?”
“My lady…”
His voice dropped low.
The mask of cordiality he had worn was long gone, his face hardened into cold severity.
Knock, knock.
At that moment, a servant rapped on the parlor door.
“Pardon us. We’ve come to warm the tea.”
“Come in.”
Grateful for the interruption, I permitted them entry. Kelly the maid and the steward came in.
The steward caught my gaze and cheekily winked.
Good heavens!
I quickly averted my eyes.
Worried that I might meet his gaze again by accident, I kept my head turned firmly away.
“We’ll take our leave now.”
Click.
Only after the servants left the parlor could I let out a small sigh of relief.
As I lifted the freshly warmed teacup, I noticed the marquis’s expression had shifted strangely.
He looked startled, perhaps even unsettled.
“What is it?”
“That servant just now. Where did you find him?”
“…A servant?”
He must have meant Cayenne.
The steward was possessing Cayenne’s body at the moment.
But why is the marquis interested in Cayenne?
I looked at him in puzzlement, but he hastily corrected himself.
“He resembled someone I once knew. A slip of the tongue, nothing more. Please pretend you didn’t hear it.”
Even after leaving the ducal estate, Marquis Balton felt uneasy.
As I thought—the rumors were true.
The young lady was as insolent as they said.
Though it irked him, his anger didn’t linger long.
The servant he’d seen at the estate weighed heavily on his mind.
…Too much alike.
A boy with black hair and red eyes.
If the child he once met was still alive, by now he’d be a grown young man—just like that servant.
The marquis shook his head, chased by ghostly memories.
It had been more than twenty years.
Time had piled up like snow, whitening his hair and fading his memories. It was no wonder he might confuse a resemblance for reality.
And yet, his sharp intuition urged him on.
“I’ll need to dig deeper into this.”
He muttered under his breath, hastening his steps.
“Hmph. How could you pretend not to recognize me? That’s just cruel.”
After the marquis’s departure, the steward came straight to my room, skipping his afternoon duties.
He had said he would only stay a short while, yet he’d been staring at me for what felt like ages.
“Don’t you have household work to get back to? You’re slacking off too long.”
“My host is so heartless. Not even a shred of mercy…”
He sniffled theatrically.
At first it was jarring to see him making such a fuss in Cayenne’s face, but I’d grown used to it.
When I turned my head away, he came right up close.
“Why won’t you look at me? Are you avoiding me on purpose?”
“Hey…! Back off already, will you?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as the memory of that embarrassing incident surfaced.
On reflex, I shoved him away, and he collapsed to the floor in feigned weakness.
“So now you don’t like me anymore?”
“…”
It wasn’t that I disliked him.
The problem was that every time I saw him, I remembered that night all too vividly.
The weather, the stifling night air, the warmth against my forehead—every detail came back.
Ugh, why do I keep replaying it?
What he left me with wasn’t a kiss—it was turmoil.
I resented him for planting that restlessness in me.
So I forced my voice to sound cold.
“I don’t hate you. It’s just… hard being around you.”
“That’s the same thing. Being cut off in a single day—it’s lonely, and it hurts, you know.”
The steward’s shoulders slumped.
Watching him wilt only made the turmoil in me swell again.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. It was just a goodnight kiss, wasn’t it?
Perhaps.
He was always saying how he raised me with care, doted on me, cherished me.
So maybe that kiss was nothing more than maternal affection—or some higher, platonic love.
Yes, surely that was it.
After all, he’s not even human.
From his perspective, I must be no more than an ant.
Just as I would never look at an ant on the ground with romantic affection, he surely didn’t see me in that way either.
That thought eased my tangled heart a little.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
The steward tilted his head.
“To you, I must be like an ant or a cockroach, right?”
“What nonsense! You’re far cuter and more lovable than that.”
“Then… a butterfly or a honeybee, maybe?”
As I weighed the “likability” of various insects, another thought struck me.
Wait. Since he’s possessing Cayenne right now… can I check his affection rating?
I was about to rummage through the item shop when a knock came at the door.
“My lady, a letter has arrived!”
“This is…”
I checked the sender—it was the knight guarding Seraphine.
I had asked him to notify me immediately if anything happened to her, so I tore open the envelope in alarm.
The message was brief.
“What is it? Did something happen?”
“It says Seraphine is meeting someone.”
“Come in.”
As Seraphine expected, the beggar returned once again to Viscount Blaine’s residence.
This time, instead of driving him away, her guards restrained him.
Though she invited him inside, the man hesitated on the threshold, unable to step forward.
“I needn’t enter. It’s enough just to see your face.”
“If seeing my face was enough, you should’ve disappeared the very day we first locked eyes. I know you’ve been lingering around here for days.”
Seraphine’s voice was unusually cold. The man bowed his head.
“I apologize.”
“Don’t you have something to say to me? If you do, come in and say it properly.”
“…”
When Seraphine led the way inside, the man followed hesitantly.
His gaze roamed the house.
It was a small, shabby, worn estate—hardly respectable, save for its location in the capital.
In the parlor, instead of a maid, it was the old nurse who brought out steaming tea.
The small staff and modest furnishings made it obvious their means were limited.
Seraphine didn’t so much as touch her cup.
“Well? Don’t you have something to tell me?”
Her tone was almost accusatory, as if demanding an answer she already expected.
“…Something to say.”
He fell into thought for a moment.
In his time-dimmed eyes passed a faint shadow of regret and longing.
“It is nothing more than the grumblings of an old man… but if you would allow me, may I share them?”
