Chapter 11
A New Aide (1)
When asked why he was looking for Hans, Joseph unconsciously tightened the hand gripping Anze’s shoulder.
“Ugh!”
“Ah! Sorry.”
Hearing Anze’s pained groan, Joseph quickly let go and frowned.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to find Hans.
Maybe it was because, annoying as Hans could be, he had faithfully stayed by Joseph’s side during a difficult time.
Maybe he’d grown attached to him in some trivial way.
Or maybe it was just the curiosity of seeing someone he’d personally confirmed dead walking around alive and well.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t just let it go.
If Hans was alive, he wanted to know why the man had dared to pretend to be dead.
At the very least, it would add a bit of intrigue to the dull routine of the capital.
“What if—just what if—Hans is still alive? What would you do?”
“Kill him, maybe?”
The casual brutality of the answer made Anze flinch.
“Excuse me? Your Grace, I must have misheard. What could Hans have done to deserve… death?”
“Did he not dare deceive me?”
Surely he wasn’t serious. Joseph had a reputation as a war fanatic, but he didn’t seem the type to kill someone over something so petty.
“Even so, perhaps he had his reasons?”
“Every prisoner in a dungeon has their reasons. That doesn’t erase their crimes, does it?”
Of all the comparisons… really?
While Anze struggled for a response, Joseph stood up. He’d been gone all night without a word; his household was no doubt in an uproar.
“You can’t stay here. I’ll send a carriage soon. Your belongings…”
Joseph trailed off, glancing around the empty, run-down house.
In the bright sunlight the interior looked even more desolate, and he frowned. It amazed him that he’d managed to sleep soundly here for hours when even the wide, comfortable bed at the ducal mansion often left him restless.
“…There doesn’t seem to be anything worth packing. No need to waste time preparing.”
Deciding everything on his own, Joseph headed for the door without waiting for Anze’s reply.
Anze, still stunned by the offhand “I’ll kill him,” finally came to her senses just as the duke was stepping outside.
The talisman of longevity he wore—crimson at night—now gleamed with a menacing black glow, like a harbinger of death.
Sighing, Anze muttered, “I’ll find a room elsewhere. Moving into the duke’s household is a bit…”
“Find a room in Primrose Hill?”
Joseph’s sharp tone made her bite her lip.
“What noble would rent out rooms?”
For a noble, giving up privacy for a few coins would be disgraceful.
“Not on Primrose Hill, but maybe in a nearby village—”
“You know commoners without titles are strictly regulated around here. Each time you enter or leave the mansion you’d either have to present a false identity and make excuses or reveal that you’re an information broker. Either way, it would be a nuisance for both of us.”
The Duke of Side lifted one corner of his mouth in a wry smile.
“Besides, I don’t exactly want rumors spreading that I’ve hired an information broker to investigate a woman who might become my fiancée. But if you’re registered as a member of the ducal household staff, that’s different. It’s not that I particularly want to bring an information broker into my home.”
“Then… at least give me some time to settle my affairs—”
Joseph cut her off with a snort.
“Settle your affairs? Are you heading to your death or something?”
Searching for Hans was starting to feel exactly that way to Anze.
When she fell silent, Joseph continued.
“I hate waiting. Investigating Hildegard and confirming whether Hans is alive—hardly complicated, is it? In return you’d get a new residence in Primrose Hill, which is more than enough payment. And of course, I’ll pay you separately.”
Anze already knew the duke was generous with compensation; past jobs had proven that. She quietly closed her mouth.
In the original story, the duke would marry Hildegard anyway, and if Hans stayed hidden she could simply claim she’d found no trace of him.
It wasn’t as if she had been brazenly parading around the capital as Hans, either. Even within the Black Wolves, only a few knew her true identity.
The promise of a generous fee quickly silenced her doubts, and Anze nodded.
“Understood. I’ll prepare as you wish.”
Only then did the Duke of Side descend the stairs, satisfied. But he soon stopped, turned back with a frown, and asked,
“By the way, do all members of the Black Wolves receive special training or something?”
Anze tilted her head, puzzled by the sudden question.
“What do you mean?”
“You and that Hans fellow both have this habit of adding little barbs when a simple answer would suffice. It’s irritating. I wondered if you were taught to do it on purpose.”
“…”
Was it the unexpected comparison that startled her? At that moment, an ill-timed hiccup escaped, and Anze hurriedly covered her mouth.
“Careless as well.”
“Hic… sorry.”
The duke’s disapproving gaze weighed heavily on her.
“Here, uniforms differ depending on one’s duties. As you can see, with so many staff, we distinguish roles by the cut and fabric of their clothing. Since you’re His Grace’s aide, you’ll wear the same black attire as I do. I’m glad it fits,” explained Elliot kindly.
“This fits?”
The plain black dress looked more like mourning clothes.
Noticing the faint sheen of the black shoes peeking from beneath the awkwardly cut hem, Anze’s expression stiffened.
For items provided by a ducal household, the quality wasn’t bad, but aesthetically it was dreadful.
With her black eyes and hair, the outfit made her reflection in the mirror look like a solemn crow trying to appear dignified.
Glancing at Elliot for any hint of teasing, she was surprised to find him perfectly sincere.
“Your main tasks will be reviewing documents and checking and sending correspondence,” he continued.
He paused, then lowered his voice even though no one else was in the room.
“At least outwardly, that is. A black dress is ideal—it hides ink stains and looks neat. A longer skirt would just get in the way, but showing your calves would be unseemly for a ducal servant.”
This doesn’t look especially dignified as it is, Anze thought, pressing her lips together in silent protest.
“His Grace values practicality above all else,” Elliot added, a note of pride in his voice.
“Our duty is to serve him and his family with utmost dedication. Useless decoration only gets in the way. Don’t you agree?”
Faced with his pleased expression, she could only close her eyes briefly and force a bright smile. This was just a job, after all. He wasn’t entirely wrong.
So what if the dress was ugly? She wasn’t planning to stay forever.
The sooner I complete this assignment, the better.
In the mirror, her gaze hardened with determination.
In the original story, Anze harassed Hildegard and met a gruesome end at the duke’s hands.
Her mission now was to make Hildegard look good and help the two fall in love.
That might not exactly match Joseph’s request, but Anze brushed the thought aside. Clients only cared about results.
Lost in thought, she heard Elliot ask,
“So? Do you like the outfit?”
“Yes, it’s… lovely. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
