Chapter 23
The gaze fixed on me still carried a mixture of keen curiosity and faint mockery.
Ignoring my unease, he casually sat down beside me.
The mattress dipped under his weight, bringing him far too close. Realizing this, I instinctively pulled back toward the head of the bed.
“W-wait!”
I had a very bad feeling about this.
Something told me that if I allowed any skinship here, I would be walking straight into a trap!
In my mind, a very familiar scene replayed—
The kind of scenario where the cold, nasty character pretends to be gentle, pretends to be easy to approach, and lures the heroine into lowering her guard.
And then—
“So you were a boring woman after all. I’ve lost interest. What should I do with you now?”
That kind of infuriating line, delivered right before he walks away.
Yes. That.
Characters who engage in physical contact too easily, too casually, are always dangerous. At least, in every story I knew.
Like this guy right here!
Shrinking back against the headboard like a terrified guinea pig, I kept my eyes on him. Suddenly, his lips curled into a crooked smile.
His expression was openly condescending. Irritated, I snapped without thinking.
“W-well, I’ll at least hear how you plan to take responsibility!”
“Oh? So that’s the issue, is it….”
Edwin stroked his chin and replied in a lazy tone.
“Then why don’t we just start over? Pretend nothing happened.”
He said it as though something really had happened already.
The shameless intruder, who had barged into my room less than ten minutes ago and now claimed half my bed as if it were his, was unbelievably brazen.
With narrowed eyes, I waited for what he would say next.
“So, my fiancée. Tell me—what’s your name?”
He lifted his gaze softly, meeting my eyes with a faint smile.
Yes.
That voice, that look—sexy enough to make a woman forgive every arrogant word he had spoken.
That night, the “bad” version of Edwin kept me up endlessly with questions.
It wasn’t the kind of thrilling or romantic situation one might expect. Not at all.
From things he already knew—like my name—to who I was, where I came from, what I had been doing in the castle—he bombarded me with endless inquiries.
To be precise, it was less “questions” and more “interrogation.” Painfully detailed, far longer than any normal Q&A session.
Of course, Edwin didn’t just listen silently either.
Here and there, his own fragmented remarks slipped out—like how he had been trapped in the castle for a long time, unable to leave.
Perhaps because of that, he even found amusement in trivial stories, like my basement-cleaning fiasco or the vegetable garden incident.
“You cleaned that up? Then you’ll have trouble storing things in the future.”
He even said some ominous things about rules changing midway, though I was too exhausted and half-asleep to properly remember.
In the end, before dawn, he left without hesitation, saying only that we would meet again.
And so, thanks to him, I played the unwanted role of his conversation partner all night long, without a wink of sleep.
“Haaahm….”
Lifting my unbearably heavy eyelids, I rubbed at my face, which felt dry and lifeless from lack of sleep.
What I really wanted was to do nothing all day but sleep. But sadly, that wasn’t an option.
‘…Those things I sold. How am I going to fix this?’
I had belatedly realized that one of the items I had sold off carelessly—a simple axe—had actually been “bad” Edwin’s cherished companion.
Maybe I should have only sold tomatoes, potatoes, or junk items worth less than 50 diamonds each.
What if the expensive items already had owners, or were needed elsewhere?
The worry spiraled endlessly.
‘And now I can’t even remember exactly what I sold!’
All I could clearly recall was Edwin’s mocking smirk as he told me I’d sold something important.
Springing upright, I made up my mind and hurried to change clothes.
There was someone I needed to see!
“Chef!”
I dashed straight to the kitchen.
Why? Because in life, a good meal can mend even strained relationships.
The “bad guy” side of Edwin was, for now, barely managed. It was time to appease the “good guy” side—with food if nothing else.
When I arrived, I could hardly believe this was the same filthy kitchen I had once purified with the Blessing of Cleansing.
The bubbling sound of soups and sauces, the rhythmic tok tok tok of a knife against the cutting board—everything was orderly, spotless. Even the floor gleamed.
“…Lady Windsor?!”
At my call, the chef hurried over, wiping his wet hands on his apron.
In his haste, he even fumbled to straighten his tilted chef’s hat.
“What brings you here at this early hour? Breakfast isn’t ready yet—shall I prepare something right away?”
My stomach growled just in time, and I quickly nodded.
“Yes, please! Though you don’t need to prepare much, just some bread will do.”
“Perfect! We’ve just baked some fresh bread!”
Beaming, the chef brought over a loaf straight from the oven. Steam curled from the crust, carrying a heavenly fragrance.
“Oh… it tastes even better than before.”
I murmured after taking a cautious bite.
There had been bread last night too, but today’s was different.
“Haha, I knew you’d notice! This time I added butter. We’ve finally been able to get dairy products from the farm.”
Even without seeing his expression, the way the chef clenched his fists radiated pure happiness.
“And let me thank you again, Lady Windsor. Thanks to you, cooking has become enjoyable again.”
“Haha, really? That’s a relief….”
“Now that we have dairy, we can try all sorts of breads!”
As I listened, a craving popped suddenly into my head.
Salt bread… I want salt bread.
Of course, once the test period ended—about 6.5 real-world days from now—I could buy salt bread anytime I wanted.
But in my current sense of time, that was still five months away.
“Um, could you make something I request?”
“Oh? Do you have something in mind?”
“Yes. It’s called salt bread… ah, hold on.”
I quickly pulled up the cash shop menu and searched the recipes.
‘There it is!’
As expected, there was nothing the shop didn’t sell.
The recipe for salt bread cost just 50 diamonds—considering one loaf sold for 150, it was a bargain.
Turning away slightly, I bought the recipe and began reciting the instructions to the chef.
“Aha….”
He carefully took notes but soon wore a troubled look.
“There’s one problem.”
“What problem?”
“We’re running out of salt.”
The unexpected reply left me speechless.
Of course the castle couldn’t produce its own salt.
His voice grew heavier as he continued.
“Actually, the Belmond Ducal Castle used to have a dedicated merchant company that supplied foodstuffs. But at some point, the deliveries just… stopped. Now we can’t procure ingredients we can’t produce ourselves. It’s a very difficult situation.”
Hearing the chef’s worried tone, a thought struck me.
‘Wait… could this be…?’
Surely, this was setup—
for an outside quest.
