Chapter – 13
Tasha continued firmly.
“Apparently, the current Marquis has practically lived as a recluse. And yet suddenly he shows up at the Sa프ranette Theatre as a play investor… I’m sure everyone who saw the Marquis of Orellno talking with you today was whispering behind your back.”
So that was why people kept glancing at us earlier.
“And another thing. If a man looks perfectly fine but still isn’t married at his age, it always means he’s got some fatal flaw.”
Considering the Marquis really did seem to have personality issues, I couldn’t argue.
“There’s even a rumor that the misfortunes of his childhood left him… unable to perform properly, so he avoids women…”
I did not need to hear such intimate, unnecessary gossip, so I promptly cut Tasha off.
“We now know why Aunt Susan dislikes that family. That’s enough. But despite all that, you said a lot of women want to marry the Marquis of Orellno?”
“Oh, of course they do.”
Tasha wrinkled her nose as she laid out the harsh reality.
“At the end of the day, he’s still a Marquis. Once the ancient march family was forbidden from owning a knight order after that incident, the current Marquis went and started all sorts of businesses. Who would have imagined they’d all succeed? With that wealth, his enterprises, and his title… you have no idea how many nobles dream of seating their daughter as the lady of that house.”
“…All while whispering behind his back, wondering how twisted he must be inside?”
“For them, the daughter sitting beside him is nothing but a chess piece.”
Tasha’s blunt choice of words made me frown.
“It’s like: ‘Just don’t die in that blood-soaked Orellno mansion, endure it, and charm the Marquis well.’ That kind of thing.”
“Aah…”
“And, well, he is handsome.”
He’s handsome enough that people can overlook unsettling rumors—she wasn’t wrong. I had nothing to say back, so I stared out the window.
Will I end up being placed in someone’s household like that too?
Maybe it was the emotional blow catching up to me, but now that the tension was fading, my whole body ached.
Once I get home, I’m soaking in a tub of hot water and going straight to sleep.
Before getting out of the carriage, I firmly warned Tasha not to mention anything about the Marquis of Orellno to Aunt Susan.
I didn’t want to fan the flames of her anxiety. Tasha understood—at least somewhat.
But that wasn’t what weighed on me the most.
It was him—that man hiding his intentions. The one with a heavy, blood-stained past. The news he brought chased me relentlessly through the darkness beyond the carriage window.
It haunted me all the way until I nearly fell asleep.
Whenever I tossed under the blankets to avoid those thoughts, the spring leaves outside tapped against the bedroom window.
It felt like the faceless author of the works I loved—someone I had never seen—was watching me silently from the shadows.
I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried.
I finally understood, painfully and thoroughly, what it meant to live as if your heart were missing.
But it was a feeling I couldn’t share openly with anyone. Not in a world without the internet.
I was lonely.
“Young Lady, please wake up!”
“I don’t feel well…”
“You’re unwell?”
“I don’t want breakfast. I just want to sleep.”
“What?!”
My nanny Kilina and Tasha were both frantic, asking what hurt, but all I could say was that I wanted to rest.
Even Susan rushed in wearing her robe, freshly awake.
“Tell me—you didn’t run into Lady Forte when you went to the theater yesterday, did you?”
“S-she did! Lady met Vivian Forte yesterday! Young Lady, did that incident hurt you so deeply? Oh, my poor Young Lady…”
“Rita. Did that shameless girl come up to you and insist you two should be friends? Ha! The nerve! How unbearably rude!”
Aunt Susan was so furious she kept flapping her hands to cool her flushed face.
…Okay, now I actually felt bad.
It wasn’t Vivian’s fault—but if I brought up the author of Ivir right now, none of them would understand the reason for my sorrow. So I just curled up deeper under the blanket.
Susan, Kilina, and Tasha all began cursing the Forte family’s villa, where Vivian was staying.
Vivian was probably enjoying a peaceful morning, unaware of anything. Sorry, but you’ve hurt me too, so let me borrow this situation just a little, okay?
“Then rest, Young Lady. I’ll return before luncheon.”
Seeing how ill I looked, they all left to give me quiet.
Finally, silence.
I had no appetite. Still, I planned to go see Kettlin again later.
Thinking of Shane de Orellno made me mutter irritably:
And what do you know about love?
The Marquis must think I’m just some naive noble girl. As if nobles know anything about love when they marry—we’re all the same. Who writes lines like that to insult someone? What, is he a romance novelist? Why not get married first before lecturing others?
My hand balled into a fist remembering his rude attitude.
Calm down. Stress is the root of all illness. Stress is the root of all illness.
…But he started it!
Ugh. If only I had a friend who loved the author Ivir as much as I do, someone I could talk to freely about them. I pulled the blanket over my head to soothe the frustration.
At some point I drifted off and woke to the scent of fresh grass.
The open window let in a slow spring breeze, and a yellow butterfly twirled in answer, dancing a small waltz against the clear sky. Staring blankly at that scene from under the blanket, I heard Tasha knock gently.
“Young Lady, are you feeling better now?”
“…”
“Damien returned from the publishing house and the printing house.”
“…W-what?!”
I kicked off the blanket and shot upright.
Forget spring breezes—news I’d been desperately waiting for had arrived.
The first clue to confirm whether the Marquis of Orellno was a conman trying to swindle noble ladies!
“Young Lady, I’m coming in!”
Tasha swung the bedroom door open. I ran out barefoot onto the carpet.
“W-what time is it?!”
“It’s just past lunchtime.”
“What did he say? Where’s Damien?!”
“Before that, please fix your appearance! You haven’t even washed your face, have you? If the Duke of Loire heard his daughter met her staff wearing a thin, see-through negligee, he would be furious!”
I shoved my feet into slippers and dashed out. Behind me, Tasha shrieked:
“At least brush your hair properly first!”
“Oh, come on, this is my house! It’s fine! It’s not like I’m going outside!”
In the sitting room, I spotted my personal secretary, Damien Kantz—his black, curly hair by the fireplace.
At my sudden entrance, he jumped and dropped his hat onto the carpet.
“Lady Loire, I heard you were unwell…”
“I’m fine. Damien, where did you go first? Start with Emos! Hurry!”
He still seemed awkward around me—but compared to our first meeting, when he barely raised his head at all, this was progress.
“I-I have plenty of time, so once you’ve composed yourself—”
“No, no! I’m fine! Tell me!”
I hurriedly pulled on the robe Tasha handed me.
Damien’s ears reddened for some reason, and he stared fixedly at the floor as he gave his report quietly.
“…First, I visited the Emos Publishing House and met with President Filid.”
I had prepared a letter with the Loire seal to prove Damien’s authority, along with some money for “facilitating conversations.” He had visited the publisher and the magazine that handled the author’s works.
The answer that came back was simple—far simpler than expected.
“It is true,” he said, “that Marquis Shane de Orellno personally discovered the author Ivir.”
