Chapter 49….
Master and Servant Relationship
Tick-tock.
The second hand never stopped. It moved tirelessly within the small, round clock face. Lorelia stared at the watch resting in her palm for a long time.
A machine that measures time. It was newly astonishing that something invisible could be measured.
Could a machine be made to measure the heart as well? If such a thing existed, how wonderful would that be?
“I would advise you not to rely too much on that child. You’ll only be hurt.”
Lorelia slowly closed and opened her eyes. The second hand was still turning. She recalled the day she first received this watch as an engagement gift—the surprise, the joy, the rapture.
It hadn’t even been two months yet.
“Madam, you are the lady of Trisen. You are not in a position where you must depend on your husband’s love.”
Those words did not comfort Lorelia in the slightest. She had not chosen this marriage to obtain the title of grand duchess’s wife. It had been for love—love alone.
Because she wanted the man named Theobald. Because she believed he wanted her too.
It had been a marriage for that alone.
“I want your time. A lifetime of it.”
Quietly, Lorelia traced the engraved letters on the back of the watch.
He had asked for her lifetime. He had vowed they would love each other all their lives. Yet no matter how much she thought about it, she could not understand what had gone wrong, or where.
Why… why was he treating her like this?
She lifted her stifled gaze toward the tapestry door. The door that connected to her husband’s bedroom. Since their wedding night, it had never once been opened. For a moment, an impulse seized her—the urge to open that door and step into his space.
But reason quickly bound that impulse tight.
“You may not enter His Grace’s private spaces, such as his bedroom or study. You may only enter with permission and must never come and go at will.”
But if he neither comes to see me nor calls for me, what am I supposed to do?
Unable to endure any longer, Lorelia suddenly sprang to her feet. She set the watch pendant in her hand down on the table and left the bedroom. Alicia, who had been embroidering in the sitting room, looked up.
“Madam? Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back shortly. Stay here, Alicia.”
“Huh? Where are you going?”
Lorelia did not answer and strode out of the room. She passed between the two guards and turned left. If not for the carpet lining the corridor, her footsteps would have thundered loudly.
With strength in her heels, she walked rather quickly past her husband’s quarters. She did not even glance at the guards standing at the entrance.
Her destination was the formal dining hall.
Lorelia had been there a few times and knew which dining hall Theobald frequented. Sure enough, two guards and the head steward stood before the room. It meant the lord was inside.
“Madam, how did you—”
“I’ve come to see His Grace.”
The steward looked startled by her appearance but skillfully hid his discomfort. He could hardly show reluctance to the lady of the house. Perhaps it was also because of the resolute expression on her face.
Thanks to that, Lorelia was able to enter without much resistance.
And her eyes met the man seated at the dining table.
He sat alone at the head of the rectangular table. Even at the sight of the woman who had suddenly appeared, he showed not a hint of surprise. Holding his utensils in both hands, he merely lifted his eyes to look at her, maintaining his leisurely posture as he ate.
As if he had expected her to come.
Theobald had never once invited her here after their marriage. Compared to the other dining halls, this one was simply decorated. A gold-framed painting of a woman and two children hung on the wall. Lorelia briefly glanced at the baby in the painting before turning her gaze back to the table where the man sat.
“An unexpected guest.”
Clink. Setting down his cutlery, Theobald spoke. His face was not smiling, but it did not seem cold either. Because of that, Lorelia gained a little courage.
“I know this is improper, but I came because I have something to tell you.”
“Go on.”
She hesitated. It was because she was conscious of the butler standing beside him. There were also two attendants serving the meal. All three men had their eyes lowered politely, but their ears were open. Lorelia did not want them to hear this conversation.
“Have the servants step out for a moment.”
“Remain.”
Theobald cut in sharply, looking her way. At that coldness, Lorelia lost her nerve.
I’ve made a mistake. Realization struck her belatedly. What on earth was she thinking, coming all the way here? She even resented her own impulsiveness.
“Speak. Your business.”
He urged her. Now she had nowhere to retreat.
“I think it would be better to postpone our departure for Kingsberg by about three days.”
All she could do was remain as composed as possible and adopt the dignified manner befitting his wife and the mistress of the estate.
“I heard we are to depart on the second day of the Sun Festival. But if we leave the estate that early, these many guests will feel quite disappointed.”
“……”
“It takes three weeks by ship to reach Kingsberg, so we do have a few days’ leeway.”
“……”
“So even if we depart three days later, we will still arrive well within the time His Majesty desires.”
Theobald stared at her without blinking. His expression gave no hint of his mood, which only made the onlooker more uneasy. It was a frighteningly thorough blankness that made her instinctively falter.
“…Could you perhaps tell me… why we must depart so early…?”
Lorelia barely knew what she was saying anymore. Her mind had gone blank, unsure how to salvage this situation. If only he would smile once—even a scoff would do—it wouldn’t feel this frightening. She tightly clasped her cold hands together.
Theobald did not smile. He did not even speak. He remained silent until the air in the dining hall weighed heavily on everyone present. Only after Lorelia, standing in the center of it all, had turned nearly pale from discomfort did he finally open his mouth, his gaze fixed on her.
“What is the meaning of this, Renier?”
“How is it that the lady of the house knows nothing of this estate’s etiquette?”
His voice was cold.
With that, Lorelia had no choice but to admit it. She had displeased him.
“Renier.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Must I explain the reasons for my decisions to a vassal?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Is it acceptable for a vassal to enter my private space without permission?”
“It is not.”
“Then does my wife not understand her own position?”
At that question, the butler dared not answer. In the renewed silence, Lorelia’s knees trembled. Those dark blue eyes. It felt as though his steady gaze was freezing her whole body.
“I am saying—do you not know that you are my vassal, not my liege?”
“I know.”
Lorelia gathered her courage because of the butler. She did not want Theobald’s displeasure to be directed at Renier because of her.
“My position was properly explained to me by the butler… and I understand it well.”
Unconsciously, her tone had shifted. So strict observance of etiquette was this important to him. If only she had known earlier. Then she would not have made such a mistake.
But… had she really committed such a grave offense? Simply by coming during his meal to ask about their journey?
“I’m glad to hear you understand. Anything further?”
Lorelia gently bit her lip. In truth, the issue of the Kingsberg schedule had been a hastily invented excuse. That was not her real purpose in coming here on impulse.
What she had truly wanted to ask him was this:
Why are you trying to make Miss Helene my lady’s maid?
“…No.”
But now she did not dare ask such a thing. Lorelia felt on the verge of tears from embarrassment, humiliation, and fear. All she wanted was to leave this place as quickly as possible.
“Then you may withdraw.”
That was why she turned immediately.
But she had barely taken two steps before she had to stop.
“Your courtesy.”
The man’s voice pierced her back.
“A word of thanks for granting you leave to withdraw.”
“….”
“You forgot.”
Her heart dropped.
Lorelia froze for a moment, then slowly turned back. She wanted to reply with something clever, but her lips had stiffened. She could not even properly look at his face. His correction was not wrong, and she could only belatedly rectify her discourtesy.
Following the newly learned etiquette, she gathered the sides of her dress and bent her knees in a curtsey. Yet she could hardly tell whether she was breathing in or out. She did not know whether her face was flushed or pale.
She focused only on finishing the graceful bow and turning to walk out. Pretending nothing was wrong, pretending she had not been shaken—that was the best she could do.
Even after leaving the dining hall, Lorelia kept walking. Shoulders back, spine straight, chin lifted—she maintained the posture of a noble lady. She strained to ensure no one could find fault with her.
Like the mistress of this estate.
When she returned to her quarters, the two guards at the entrance shifted their spears to their right hands. Their salute—open palm pressed over the left chest—was crisp. They showed their loyalty each time she passed, but Lorelia did not return it. She only had to lift her chin and walk between them as if she had not noticed.
Because she was their master.
That was what a master–servant relationship was.
A relationship where one side offers unilateral loyalty and devotion.
Where one side shows courtesy, and the other receives it.
Where one side inflicts wounds, and the other endures them.
“Madam, where have you been? Goodness, your face is pale! Are you unwell?”
Alicia, who had been waiting in the sitting room, came running over in a flurry. For a moment, Lorelia nearly burst into tears, but she held them back.
Strange and difficult things—she would have to endure them somehow.
There was no other way.
Now she was a Ferbrante, and this estate was her only home.
