Chapter 49
“Did you bring him here, Madam?”
At my ice-cold tone, Madam Doris stiffened for a brief moment.
“You mean Sir Ian?”
But she soon recovered her composure and shamelessly replied,
“Should I say I brought him? I merely mentioned I would introduce you, and he came all the way here on his own.”
My brow furrowed instinctively at her words.
‘That’s still bringing him, what nonsense.’
It was absurd.
“Madam Doris.”
At my low, steely voice, Madam Doris tilted her head, looking at me with the certainty that no matter how angry I was, I would never harm her.
I could guess where that confidence came from.
‘Because Elia is weak to the Marquis of Elvington.’
So she believed I wouldn’t dare harm the marquis’s wife either.
But unfortunately for her—
“I no longer fear the Marquis of Elvington… nor you.”
“I can hardly believe you would commit such a rude act, Madam.”
“What…?”
Her brows drew together at my direct rebuke.
“Even if your intentions were good, barging into someone’s workplace uninvited is childish beyond reason.”
Madam Doris stared at me, seemingly at a loss for words.
“I have no intention of meeting Sir Ian. Please take him back with you.”
“Are you saying you’ll be rude to the Melason family?”
“The rudeness here is yours, Madam.”
“If your father hears about this unreasonable behavior, he will be greatly disappointed!” she said, as if delivering a decisive blow.
I couldn’t help but let out a short, deflating laugh.
“Are you laughing?”
“What can I say? I’m no longer afraid of my father.”
And if it were the Marquis of Elvington, he wouldn’t be disappointed over something like this anyway—especially when anyone could see Madam Doris was being unreasonable.
“In fact, you should be the one worrying, Madam.”
“What should I be worried about?”
“About the mere fact you’ve been associating with the Melason family.”
“…? And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re aware the Melason family is involved with the Black Market in the capital, aren’t you?”
Her face hardened instantly.
“You—how did you… huh!”
She cut herself off, nearly admitting her guilt aloud.
In truth, discovering Melason’s corruption was easy. Unlike Elia, a side character, Melason was a mid-tier antagonist mentioned frequently in the original.
“Even so, is involvement with the Black Market such a serious crime? How many nobles don’t go there these days!” she shouted.
Ah, just like mother and daughter—exactly the same reaction Zina had when her illicit love letters were exposed.
“So it’s fine because everyone else does it, is that it?”
I rested my folded hands on the table.
“Do you think the Marquis of Elvington would see it that way?”
Then I returned her own earlier words to her.
“A strict father would fly into a rage simply at the thought of tying the Marquis’s household to a criminal.”
Her complexion turned ashen.
“You… you wouldn’t dare tell him, would you?”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
I shrugged, meeting her gaze with an easy calm.
“You’ve twisted my mistakes and tattled to my father more than once. Why should I be any different?”
“You insolent little—!”
Her face flushed bright red with fury.
“See, Mother? I told you not to drag Sir Ian here.”
“That’s right, Mom. Let’s just go today.”
Zachary and Zina tried to placate her, glancing nervously at me.
“Hmph!”
With their intervention, she finally regained her senses, let out a loud sniff, and rose from her seat.
“Fine, we’ll leave for now. But don’t think this is over!”
Zachary hurriedly set down his pastry, and Zina brushed off her skirts before following their mother out of the parlor.
“Phew…”
As the room fell silent, I let out a long breath. Just picturing Madam Doris’s flushed, frustrated face and her children trying to rein her in left me feeling as if a decade’s worth of pent-up irritation had been released.
I wonder if the second son of Melason has been sent off properly.
“Better check the teahouse near the knights’ headquarters, just in case.”
I had no intention of meeting him—only of confirming he’d left.
I grabbed my uniform jacket and stepped out of the parlor, spotting Carlos in the distance.
“Sir Ivach!”
I waved him over, and he approached with a conflicted expression.
What’s with that face?
“What is it? Did something happen?”
“I passed by the parlor earlier and… never mind.” He shook his head, trailing off.
Carlos, there are two ways to make someone angry, and you keep practicing both.
“What is it?” I pressed.
He sighed heavily, then met my eyes.
“Have you been putting up with people like that all this time?”
Oh, that was unexpected.
“You ran into them on their way out?”
“Yes. And I happened to overhear some of what they said about you.”
It was no surprise if they’d said terrible things—they were that kind of people. Still, it felt strange knowing Carlos had heard it.
Not shame, exactly—more like the awkwardness of being caught in pajamas you only wear at home.
“I wouldn’t say ‘putting up with,’ but we’re not exactly on good terms.”
I lowered my head, avoiding his gaze, but his expression remained grave.
Wait… is he angry? Because they mistreated me?
I looked up, eyes wide, and saw him rub his face with both hands, sighing again.
“You didn’t have anyone you could talk to about it… did you?”
He dropped his hands and met my gaze with serious eyes.
“From now on, if something like that happens, you can tell me.”
Huh? Did that mean I could rely on him?
When I stared in surprise, he looked away.
“Of course, I might not be the most reliable…”
“No! You are.”
The denial slipped out faster than I expected, making him look at me in surprise.
“I’ve told you before—you’re an excellent knight.”
His face reddened—not as much as before, though. Had he gotten used to my compliments already?
“I know.”
“…?”
“I know you think I’m an excellent knight.”
Then, with difficulty but clear conviction,
“And I think you’re an excellent knight too.”
For some reason, that made my face warm.
What is this… this strange atmosphere?
My chest felt ticklish, as if someone had dropped a piece of candy into my heart.
“Uh, I—”
I was about to break the moment before it could go further when—
“Something terrible has happened!”
Cesare’s voice rang out.
I turned to see him running toward us, pale-faced.
“What… did I do something wrong?” he stammered, shrinking back when he caught Carlos’s expression.
What kind of face is Carlos making right now?
“What’s wrong, Sir Girotti?”
Carlos wiped his expression away with a sigh and a rub of his face before asking.
“Well…” Cesare glanced between us, swallowed hard, and spoke.
“Sir Ian is at the teahouse, refusing to leave until he sees you.”
