Chapter 13
By now, it seemed to be the staff’s start-of-shift time, because servants who hadn’t been visible earlier were now appearing here and there.
“…But why are they all staring at me like this?”
Rosie asked quietly, noticing that the staff couldn’t seem to take their eyes off her.
‘Well… of course, it’s because I’m walking alongside him.’
She knew this feeling from her own work. Whenever someone walked close to their masters, everyone would check who it was and be careful not to make mistakes. These staff members were no different—they couldn’t help but notice who the woman walking alongside the manager at this hour was.
At that moment, Ainar spoke.
“If this makes you uncomfortable, I’ll punish them immediately and make sure they never do it again.”
“Wha—? No, that’s… not necessary…”
“There’s no need to refuse. Managing the staff is my responsibility, after all.”
With that, Ainar addressed the surrounding staff in a stern voice.
“Anyone who casts a disrespectful glance at our guest will be severely punished.”
“Yes, we will correct ourselves, Manager!”
The staff immediately dropped their gazes to the floor and echoed in unison.
“…!”
Rosie looked at Ainar in surprise. He smiled faintly at her and said:
“You won’t feel uncomfortable now.”
Rosie felt a chill run down her spine and instinctively wrapped one arm around the other.
Just moments ago, she had thought he might not be so bad, but the behavior he had just displayed was indistinguishable from the high-ranking nobles who had made her life difficult before.
Ainar looked at her as she held herself and asked:
“Are you still cold?”
“…No. Now that we’re indoors, I’m fine.”
Rosie took off the jacket draped over her shoulders and handed it to him.
“Thank you for helping me when it was so cold, Manager.”
Ainar tilted his head slightly, frowning at her sudden change in tone. Rosie, pretending not to notice, bowed elegantly—a habit ingrained from her lessons with Lily during childhood.
He looked at her jacket and then back at her, observing the faint blue veins visible on her shoulders and arms. It was clear she still felt some chill.
Yet instead of insisting she keep it, he returned her jacket with a neutral expression.
“If you need help again, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Just then, a familiar yet slightly unfamiliar voice called out.
“Customer!”
It was Daisy, the staff member from the dress shop she had visited yesterday, carrying a bag seemingly twice her size. She approached with surprisingly brisk steps.
“I rushed here before the shop opened, but how are you already out?”
…What?
Yesterday, she hadn’t acted so familiar, but today she was unusually enthusiastic in speaking to Rosie.
“Come on, let’s go in quickly! If you’re going to have a dress custom-made like you mentioned yesterday, we need to take your measurements, choose the fabric, and there’s a ton to do!”
Custom-made? Rosie had never placed such an order. She opened her mouth at Daisy’s words.
“Excuse me? What do you mean…?”
“Hurry, hurry! I’ll explain everything once we’re inside.”
But Daisy didn’t wait for Rosie to finish speaking—she gently nudged her forward instead.
‘What is… happening?’
Rosie, flustered, noticed Daisy’s gaze briefly glance at Ainar with a seriousness she couldn’t quite interpret. She couldn’t tell the reason, but clearly there was some cause for Daisy’s urgency. Rosie nodded along vaguely.
“…I was waiting anyway. Shall we go in together?”
“Yes, Customer! Which room are you in?”
“Just a moment.”
Rosie paused Daisy for a second and then spoke to Ainar apologetically.
“I’m sorry. I completely forgot about having the dress made. I’ll go in first.”
Ainar narrowed his eyes briefly, then gave a casual nod and turned away. He had no further plans to spend time with Rosie anyway.
Clack.
As the Rose Room door closed, Daisy collapsed onto the floor, as if all her strength had left her. Rosie hesitated for a moment, unsure how to address her.
“Are you alright?”
Daisy lifted her head slightly from her knees and looked at Rosie.
“…Seriously, what exactly are you?”
“Huh? What do you mean…? Oh, if this is about those two people from the dress shop, don’t worry. Nothing happened on the way back yesterday.”
“No, it’s about the Portrey Marquis family.”
“…Huh?”
Rosie blinked at the unfamiliar name. ‘Portrey?’
Portrey was a well-known noble family in the East, but why would Daisy suddenly mention them? She watched Daisy frown as if in pain before continuing.
“After you left, someone from the Portrey Marquis family came looking for me.”
Daisy recalled Jerome’s stern face. Unlike the lesser-known direct heirs of the Portrey family, he was a loyal retainer known for appearing in high-value businesses typically run by the second son.
“…And?”
Rosie waited, unsure how this concerned her.
“He asked about you.”
“Me?”
…Why?
Rosie stared at Daisy, equally confused. Daisy herself had no idea why.
“Yes. He wanted to know everything—the events at the shop, how you spoke, even how much you paid. He asked about you in such detail.”
“Oh… then could it be… that arrogant noble I saw yesterday was a direct member of the Portrey family?”
Rosie proposed a plausible hypothesis, but Daisy shook her head immediately.
“Nope.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“If he were truly from Portrey, no matter how much you acted haughty, you wouldn’t have walked out of the shop like that.”
“That may be, but if not, there’s nothing else that points to it.”
Perhaps he had been with a woman and didn’t want the family to know. But Daisy’s thoughts differed.
She pondered briefly, then continued.
“…That man is Charles Bitante, the third son of the Bitante marquisate. The woman is Sophia Brosche, originally a commoner dancer, now adopted into the Brosche barony. Both are southern nobles with no connection to the Portrey family.”
“….”
Rosie was momentarily speechless, staring at Daisy. The details were surprisingly specific for a dress shop employee to know in just a day.
Daisy sighed once at Rosie’s gaze, then looked her directly in the eyes.
“I am Daisy Cosette. Designer at Cosette’s Dress Shop, and the head of the largest information network guild in the East.”
Rosie’s eyes widened in astonishment at her completely unexpected identity.
“…An information broker?”
She squinted suspiciously. Daisy appeared to be no more than eighteen. In the shop, her young appearance had often caused nobles to pick on her, making Rosie feel sorry for her.
But an information broker? That was usually a cover for powerful people in the back alleys doing unsavory, often illegal work.
Rosie stared at Daisy, her mind reeling.
