Chapter 16
“Please, you may go in.”
“Thank you, Porle. I won’t forget this favor.”
“I sincerely hope the misunderstanding will be resolved.”
As requested earlier, Porle created an opportunity for Marisel to briefly meet Morgan.
If she didn’t clear up the misunderstanding today, it was highly likely that one misunderstanding would give birth to another, and then another, and another.
So it had to be resolved today.
Being kicked out was the one thing she had to prevent at all costs. That was why Marisel was so desperate.
Phew. I’m nervous.
“Your Highness. May I come in for a moment?”
After making her presence known, Marisel carefully stepped into the reception room.
Because of the major mistake she had made earlier in the day, every movement now felt unnecessarily cautious.
But once inside, she saw only wine and snacks on the table. Morgan was nowhere to be seen.
Should she sit? Or remain standing?
What right does a sinner have to sit? I should stand.
Just then, the bedroom door inside the reception room opened.
As if he had just finished washing, he appeared wearing a nightgown.
Even at a glance, his body was solid and well-built.
At least he could have tied his robe properly before coming out.
Each time he walked, the powerful thigh muscles—like those of a thoroughbred—pushed against the fabric of his robe and revealed their shape. Without realizing it, her gaze naturally followed.
Dear heavens. Why are You doing this to me today? I came here to repent, and this is hardly fair.
Marisel squeezed her eyes shut and quickly turned her head away.
Seeing her reaction, Morgan tightened the belt of his robe and smirked.
“Seen enough?”
“Pardon? N-no. It’s not that I meant to look. It’s just… it was visible, so I ended up seeing it. You could say it was… unavoidable?”
What on earth am I saying?
Instead of clearing up the misunderstanding, wasn’t she just adding another charge—harassment?
The situation was spiraling badly.
What’s wrong with me? Just keep your mouth shut.
Marisel felt like crying at how everything kept twisting further out of control.
“So you’re not going to say you didn’t look.”
He walked over to the table and sat down.
“Sit. Would you like a drink?”
“Pardon? Ah… yes.”
Marisel was flustered by his unexpected response.
Could it be… the misunderstanding is already cleared?
No, that couldn’t be. The look he had given her earlier had been full of contempt.
And yet… judging by the current atmosphere, it seemed somewhat fine.
What was going on?
Sigh. I don’t know. This is so difficult.
How could I possibly understand the thoughts of my employer?
For now, she would just try her best to appease him and survive.
Though confused, Marisel carefully observed his expression.
But Morgan appeared completely at ease as he gracefully poured wine into her glass.
True to his noble upbringing, every movement of his was elegant.
His hands were so large that the wine bottle looked small in comparison. Surprisingly, although he wielded a sword, his fingers were clean and unscarred.
Hmm… no, he definitely is a swordsman.
As her gaze moved past his fingers to his wrist and forearm, she noticed small scars scattered there.
Even a small cut from a blade stings and burns.
That must have hurt a lot.
If there were so many small scars on his forearm, wouldn’t there be larger ones somewhere on his torso or thighs?
Marisel found herself observing the lower half of his body where it showed beneath the robe.
But it wasn’t as clearly visible as his forearm.
Eventually, she gave up and let her gaze return to his arm.
The wild veins bulging beneath his skin looked firm and strong.
Just looking at them, they seemed full of vitality.
It was merely her old occupational habit as a nurse resurfacing.
Then she heard his voice.
“How far do those impertinent eyes intend to wander?”
“Gasp! Pardon? N-no, I wasn’t staring.”
Marisel jolted.
Ah, I’m going crazy. What is wrong with me today?
He must think she harbored impure intentions.
Morgan had noticed that her gaze unconsciously followed his movements.
At first, he thought she was merely tracking his hand as he poured the wine. But at some point, her eyes had swept over his upper body and then down to his lower body.
Then she returned to his forearm and, for a brief moment, he had even caught what looked like a sly little smile.
Not my face—but my forearm?
He was incredulous.
Usually, if someone had improper thoughts, their attention would be fixed on a face. But this woman seemed completely captivated by his arm.
Just like earlier in the day, if she truly harbored impure intentions, something about it felt strangely off. He couldn’t get a read on her.
“You did look. First my fingers. Then my forearm, chest. Then my thigh. And back to my forearm.”
Morgan precisely listed every place her gaze had lingered.
Marisel froze like a thief caught in the act.
This time she was truly in trouble. There was no escaping this one.
She steadied her breathing and thought carefully.
“Were you offended? I simply thought Your Highness’s fingers looked firm yet beautiful as you poured the wine. Then my gaze naturally moved to your arm, where I noticed the small scars and thought how painful that must have been. Since you practice swordsmanship, I wondered if there might be larger scars elsewhere on your body. That is all. I swear I had no improper thoughts whatsoever.”
In that brief instant, Marisel reasoned: who would dislike being told their body was beautiful or that someone worried about their pain?
So she omitted the part about nearly drooling over his bulging veins and delivered the rest plainly.
At the words “beautiful” and “painful,” Morgan’s eyes flickered slightly, and his body reacted almost imperceptibly.
“Then what about that sly smile when you stopped at my forearm?”
“Pardon? I… I smiled slyly at your forearm?”
Marisel pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him urgently.
So I really did smile at those protruding veins.
The absurdity left her speechless.
What was she supposed to say? That she was mesmerized by his well-developed veins?
No. Whether he believed it or not, she had to push through.
“Perhaps my expression of ‘that must have hurt’ was mistakenly interpreted.”
Ah. How pathetic.
She wanted to dig a hole and bury her face.
But what choice did she have? If he found out she had truly smiled mischievously, she might be thrown out. Being pathetic was better.
“It’s hard to believe, but I’ll try.”
Morgan let out a scoffing laugh and lifted his glass.
“You should drink as well.”
“Ah, yes.”
Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she emptied her glass in one go.
Does she think this is water?
Morgan refilled her glass and asked,
“Why did you ask to see me?”
Here it comes.
Marisel swallowed.
“…It’s nothing else. I wanted to apologize for my rudeness earlier. I truly had no idea it carried that meaning… I was simply happy to see you…”
Morgan’s hand paused midair as he was about to drink.
…Happy to see me?
Yes. She had said the same thing earlier—that she was happy.
Happy…
The word felt unfamiliar, yet strangely nostalgic.
Recently, he had often experienced such dissonance.
One thing was certain—it always happened when he was with Marisel.
He closed his eyes briefly to gather himself.
“What meaning are you referring to?”
“Pardon?”
Was he asking her to clarify properly?
“I heard from Porle that the behavior I showed earlier is something only the lady of the house may do. Your Highness, I hope there is no misunderstanding. I truly have no interest in you. I swear I have never once looked at you as a man. I have never even considered the position of Grand Duchess. I care only about Young Master Fleur. Please believe me. I have absolutely no improper feelings or romantic interest toward you—”
“Enough!”
He cut her off sharply.
A mix of anger, irritation, and frustration surged up like a volcano from deep within him.
“I said I understand. Stop talking.”
Morgan’s pride was deeply wounded.
He almost wanted to sew shut the mouth that so emphatically declared he held no appeal as a man.
Was it really necessary to say it so desperately?
Bitter words slipped out.
“Am I truly so lacking in charm that I don’t appear as a man to you?”
Though he sounded angry, there was a strange trace of sadness in his expression.
“You misunderstand. That is absolutely not the case. Your Highness possesses every charm imaginable—wealth, honor, power, looks. You lack nothing. You are the number one candidate for husband among all unmarried women in the Empire.”
Sensing she had touched another nerve, Marisel hurriedly explained, even counting on her fingers.
“Then since you are also a woman of the Empire, does that not make me your number one candidate as well?”
He asked sarcastically.
“N-no! I am excluded from that group of women. Because I am Young Master Fleur’s nanny and your employee. To me, you are not a man but my employer. Ha, haha. I strictly separate business and personal matters…”
She carefully chose every word, trying not to upset him further.
Did that work…?
She glanced at him cautiously.
He closed his eyes silently, frowning as though suppressing something.
After a moment, the lines between his brows eased.
It seemed she had somehow gotten past that hurdle.
“Y-Your Highness…?”
“Speak.”
“Has the misunderstanding been resolved…?”
Instead of an answer, a sharp gaze shot toward her.
What now?
Her heart trembled like she was standing on thin ice.
“Setting the misunderstanding aside, I don’t like your explanation.”
“Pardon?”
What did that even mean?
“…Then what should I do for you to be satisfied, Your Highness?”
Another cold look.
“That is for you to figure out. Must I find that for you as well?”
Ah. So this was abuse of power.
“Yes… Then I will figure it out.”
I should leave now. If I stay any longer, I’ll be completely drained.
In just a few minutes, she felt like she had aged years.
Seeing her exhausted expression, Morgan regretted letting his spiteful words slip out. But it was too late.
Why am I like this?
He couldn’t understand why he lost his composure around her.
“Don’t trouble yourself too much.”
“Pardon?”
“I mean exactly that.”
“So… that means it’s alright?”
He gave a small nod.
“Then, Your Highness… about the cookies Young Master Fleur gave you that time… did you eat them?”
“…?”
One eyebrow lifted.
“Why ask? Are you interrogating me over whether I ate them?”
“Of course not. I was simply curious whether they suited your taste.”
“Did Fleur ask you to ask me?”
His sharp tone returned.
Today is not the day. I should postpone the picnic discussion.
“I meant no offense. My apologies. I will take my leave.”
But unexpectedly, Morgan responded immediately,
“It was the first gift I ever received from the child. I kept it in a drawer.”
He doesn’t want me to leave.
She had half-risen but slowly sat back down.
“Oh… I see…”
Smiling gently, she continued.
Now is the moment.
“If Young Master Fleur hears that, he will be very happy. He once said he would like to receive a gift as well. So I asked from whom—and he said he would like one from his uncle. Ha, haha.”
Not wanting to miss the chance, she hurriedly stated her purpose.
“If Your Highness feels the same way, perhaps you might consider giving Young Master Fleur a gift… What do you think…?”
He let out a bitter little laugh.
“Misunderstanding aside—so this was your real objective.”
