Chapter: 23
A little while after I sent a letter to Ian, the head maid delivered a reply.
“To Mary—
I received your letter.
Thank you for giving me the honor of receiving the first letter you’ve ever written.
I feel the same, Mary. You are someone precious to me, worth more than anything.
I’m happy to see you again.
Let’s keep in touch like this from time to time.
—From Ian”
I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time I was reading it.
I hadn’t realized how enjoyable exchanging letters could be.
All of this joy was thanks to the young master. If he hadn’t taught me how to write, I wouldn’t have been able to read or send letters at all.
I must thank him tomorrow!
The next day, I immediately expressed my gratitude to the young master.
“Thank you, young master.”
“For what, all of a sudden?”
“Because you taught me how to write! Now I know how wonderful it is to exchange letters. It’s all thanks to you!”
“…I see.”
“I, um—”
Before I could finish saying that I had also written a letter for him, the young master suddenly snapped his head up.
“Wait, you exchanged letters?”
“Huh? Yes.”
“With whom?”
“Um…”
I was about to answer, “With Ian,” but I remembered that the young master had told me not to mention him, so I quickly corrected myself.
“Oh, just with someone I know.”
“So, who is it?”
“W-well…”
I was at a loss, and as I hesitated, the young master’s expression grew increasingly distorted.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
Because he told me not to talk about Ian.
The young master raised his eyebrows, as if he had figured something out.
“Don’t tell me it’s… your childhood friend?”
I nodded.
Then the young master, who had been interrogating me, suddenly went quiet. He muttered with a dazed expression, as if in shock.
“…You weren’t planning to give it to me?”
Why did he look so… hurt?
His eyebrows drooped in a way that tugged at my heart, and I was about to say something when his frown deepened, and a sharp accusation flew at me.
“…I’m the one who taught you to write. So why are you writing letters to him?”
“Ever since Ian moved away, he has often written to me. But I hadn’t been able to reply at all. I felt bad, so when we met last time, I promised to write back.”
“I don’t care about that.”
But the young master had asked why first…?
Was this not the answer he wanted? Unsure of what he expected, I carefully asked,
“Were you upset because I didn’t write a letter to you?”
The young master, who had been glaring and fuming, flinched.
“Upset? Who would be upset! Who wants something like that? I don’t need a letter from you.”
Was this also the wrong answer?
I pouted. I had stayed up all night practicing my handwriting to give him this letter, and hearing that he didn’t need it completely deflated me.
“Why do you look like that? Are you dissatisfied?”
“No… it’s not that…”
I hesitated for a moment and then slowly took the letter from my bosom.
“Actually, I wrote this letter to give to you last night…”
The young master’s eyes went wide.
“W-what? Why are you only telling me now?!”
I couldn’t say, “You didn’t give me a chance to speak!” so I stayed silent.
He reached out his hand with a slightly softened expression.
“Give it to me.”
“You don’t really need it…”
“…Yeah. I don’t really need it. But you’ve already written it; I can’t just throw it away. I’ll take it.”
His tone was teasingly generous, but I was glad I could deliver it.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you giving it?”
…His tone was really mean. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have given it at all.
With a heavy heart, I handed over the letter.
“Alright. Go back to your room now.”
“Eh?”
“Do you want me to read it out loud in front of you?”
“O-oh no… that would be embarrassing.”
“Then leave quickly.”
As I hesitated, the young master ripped open the envelope.
“Ahh!”
“I’m going! Young master! Call me if you need anything! And it would be better if you read it all, put it somewhere, and then call me!”
I rushed out of the room like I was fleeing.
Even though the young master had accepted the letter out of consideration for my effort, Ricardo still felt uneasy.
‘I’m not the first one.’
The thought that Mary had written such a heartfelt letter to Ian—or whoever he was—stirred a sharp, twisting feeling inside him.
It wasn’t just annoyance. It was deeper, sharper, and harder to define.
‘So that guy is more important to her than me, who sees her every day.’
What was so great about a childhood friend anyway? He was just someone lucky enough to be born around the same time and live in the same village.
Ricardo had never imagined he would dislike someone he had never even met so intensely.
He forced down the rising discomfort and opened the letter.
It didn’t seem like reading it would make him feel better…
“To. Ricardo”
…Ricardo?
Not Lord Ricardo, not Master Ricardo. Just Ricardo.
It was cute how she wrote it so comfortably, even though she had never called out his name before.
I imagined what it would be like if she said it out loud, and even before reading the body of the letter, I read it at least twenty times.
The hurt and disappointment I felt from her first letter going to Ian melted away at the sight of my name written in her clumsy handwriting.
“I am always grateful to the young master.
If it weren’t for you, I couldn’t even imagine writing a letter like this.
Thank you for teaching me how to write!”
Ricardo’s shoulders stiffened with pride.
Getting so touched over something so small…
If she wanted, he could teach her plenty of other things too.
‘Come to think of it, she didn’t seem to know table manners before. I should teach her how to use a fork and knife soon. And also…’
After teaching the basics, he could even teach tea-time etiquette and dancing.
Ricardo imagined Mary in a dress. She looked wonderful.
No matter what she wore, she would look good. She was pretty.
‘No. Pretty? What’s with that?’
He shook off the impure thought and continued reading the letter.
“I’m happy to be by your side, young master.
Please continue to take care of me!
from. Mary”
It wasn’t a long letter, yet it took Ricardo quite some time to finish reading it.
“Who could say such things…”
He fidgeted with the letter in his hands and smiled.
His chest felt warm and light, as if something soft had been filling it.
He read the letter over and over, even imagining it might wear out if he kept reading.
Then he suddenly remembered.
‘Can I just receive this much?’
He had recently received an expensive handkerchief from Mary, who wasn’t even paid much. And now a heartfelt letter too. He couldn’t just let it go without returning the favor.
After all, he was Ricardo Hamilton, the Viscount.
It took far too long to prepare the furs and scarves he had originally planned to give her.
‘I should offer an appropriate gift first.’
Ricardo racked his brain to think of a gift worthy of the Hamilton name.
It took the young master a full hour before he finally came to me.
The letter wasn’t that long…
Surely he wouldn’t read it aloud in front of me, or make me rewrite it a hundred times because my handwriting was bad… right?
With a nervous heart, I entered the young master’s room.
He sat on the sofa with an unusually serious expression.
“Sit.”
This…
This was the voice of someone extremely displeased!
I sat quietly beside him.
“You.”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything you want?”
“Eh?”
“Just name the first thing that comes to mind.”
Caught off guard, my mind went blank.
The first thing that came to mind…
“A house?”
I answered impulsively, panicked.
His eyes narrowed, as if he doubted what he had heard.
“That’s because I have a goal! To live happily with my beloved family. For that, I need a house. So I’ll start saving money from now…”
He interrupted me with an exasperated tone.
“Alright. Now go finish what you were doing.”
What was that all of a sudden…?
A fleeting sense of unease hit me.
When I worked in the village, children often asked the same question.
“Mary, what do you want?”
“What do you like?”
At first, I answered without thinking.
“The smell of freshly washed, fluffy blankets.”
The seven-year-old child had secretly brought a new blanket from home the next day to give to me.
The blanket had only just been purchased. Unable to lift it, the child dragged it along the ground, ruining it.
The mother, hearing everything, said it was fine, but I couldn’t lift my head out of embarrassment.
Since then, whenever children asked what I liked, I would name things easy to get, like flowers, cookies, or candy.
‘Should I have done the same this time?’
I carefully stopped the young master.
“Um… young master?”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to ask… you’re not going to… give me that as a gift, right?”
“What?”
“M-my house!”
