Chapter 57
“Actually, this is my first time using it. I didn’t know it would turn out like this either. I was kind of half-doubting it myself. Of course, I don’t know whether the Duke will believe this…”
“I will.”
William’s reply was firm, his gaze honest.
“I believe you.”
“What?”
His blue eyes were like a sea of unfathomable depth, as if they could embrace anything. When their eyes met, Rafaella felt a dizzying sensation, as though she were being pulled down into the deep ocean floor. She quickly turned her head away and asked again,
“You believe me? Just from one thing I said—so easily?”
“Yes. Unlike some people, I’m the type who believes first.”
Rafaella blinked.
She’d felt it before, back when the bandits disguised as refugees appeared, but William was… how should she put it—wise yet naïve, cool yet kind.
“A random thought just crossed my mind. Do you, by any chance, co-sign loans a lot? Or get money you lend out stiffed all the time… that kind of thing?”
Just as Rafaella was genuinely worrying that William might actually be a sucker with only a strict exterior—
Grrrrrkk—!
A stomach growl, louder and more forceful than Rafaella’s voice, barged in.
“Ugh.”
She hurriedly clutched her stomach with both hands and pressed down, but her insides, as if rebelling, growled even louder.
Gwaaaarrrr—!!
“……”
“……”
An awkward silence settled between them.
They had been in the middle of a serious discussion. The mood had already been heavy since Rosalie’s room, and William’s mind was a tangled mess as he pondered what the best course of action might be amid their sharp, truth-skirting exchange.
He had never imagined something like this would happen so suddenly. The shock hit William hard.
“Pff—”
He couldn’t hold back his laughter.
He hurriedly bit his lip and tried to smooth his expression by forcing his cheek muscles down, but the solemn mask he’d been wearing had already crumbled.
William attempted to cover it up with a forced cough.
“Ahem. Hmm. My apologies. It seems my throat is dry, so I’ll order some refreshments.”
After finishing his sentence, William stood up, pulled the bell rope by the door, and rang it. As the sound of a maid hurrying from afar reached them, Rafaella—her face red, head lowered—quietly added,
“…Not refreshments. A meal.”
“Pff— ahem. Yes. I’ll have them bring a light meal.”
Watching William desperately bite his lip to suppress his laughter, Rafaella still couldn’t stop herself from adding,
“Not light. Something hearty…”
“Pff… Yes.”
William deliberately opened the door and leaned halfway outside. It looked like he was trying to hurry and give instructions to the maid, but in truth, he was laughing silently. His shoulders were already shaking uncontrollably.
Annie, who had been running down the corridor, spotted William peeking out and hurried over even faster.
“Oh? Duke, is something urgent going on?”
But Annie quickly noticed that something was off about him. Though he covered his face with one hand, the slight redness in his cheeks and around his eyes was unmistakable.
“Um… Duke?”
“Ahem. It seems Her Highness skipped her meal, so please prepare some food.”
“Yes, I’ll get right on it.”
“And… ahem. Please make it plentiful.”
The expression on William’s face as he added that last part was almost bizarre.
It looked as though he was smiling and crying at the same time—a pained expression. His brows were oddly drawn together, his cheeks flushed, and there even seemed to be a hint of moisture in his eyes.
“Yes, I’ll bring a generous meal as quickly as possible.”
Annie replied with a puzzled tilt of her head, then headed back down the corridor toward the kitchen.
Recalling how serious the atmosphere between the two had been earlier, she reached a conclusion:
If anyone could make that iron-faced Duke cry… it must be Her Highness.
If someone as upright as the Duke could be brought to tears, then if Her Highness ever learned of Annie’s crime…
I guess… I die.
A chill ran through Annie’s shoulders.
The Empress had promised to guarantee her siblings’ education, food, and shelter until they came of age. Before departing for the Sester territory, Annie had confirmed the money and food delivered to her home. She had even been told that her frail youngest sibling would be put on a waiting list to receive treatment from a priest.
But… everyone I handed letters to was caught by the Duke.
At that time, Annie had steeled herself, expecting to be arrested soon as well. Yet several days passed, and nothing happened.
Are the experts sent by the Empress simply tight-lipped? Or…
No matter how many scenarios she imagined, her limited mind couldn’t make sense of the current situation.
Regardless of how confused she was, Annie still had to work every day and attend to Her Highness. She didn’t sense any suspicion directed at herself from Rafaella.
Whether that was fortunate or unfortunate, she couldn’t even tell.
It was fortunate that she wasn’t being dragged away for torture or execution—but having to continue deceiving Her Highness was an agonizing misfortune.
For someone like her, who used to work at the laundry—the place rumored to be the dirtiest and hardest job even in the imperial palace—this position as a well-paid and highly regarded attendant to a royal was far beyond her station. Even if that royal was the most disregarded princess in the imperial family.
Royals, nobles, priests… among all the important people Annie had ever met, Rafaella was the most peculiar, the most exhausting, and the most willful.
And the only one who—
—treated me like a person.
Maids being beaten by their masters was so common it wasn’t even gossip. Male nobles sometimes hired servants solely to vent their anger on through violence.
That was the world.
But Rafaella had let her ride in the same carriage, had never forced unreasonable tasks on her, nor ever laid a hand on her.
Instead, whenever there was even a small snack, she would always ask,
“Want to eat together?”
Of course, the spirit always dove onto the plate first, turning things into chaos—but still.
Rafaella might be blunt, but she treated Annie humanely. And that, more than anything, tormented Annie.
I wish she were just a bad person who hit and cursed me.
Then Annie could have fed her the poison she had sewn into her sleeve without hesitation.
As she descended the stairs toward the kitchen, Annie fidgeted with the small pill hidden inside her worn cuff. She told herself it wasn’t time yet. There was still time before the relief unit’s schedule—she could delay it a little longer.
Convincing herself of that, she quickened her steps.
That’s how atmosphere works.
Once it’s broken, it’s hard to restore.
Rafaella was embarrassed by the beast-like noises her stomach had made. It was nothing more than a natural physiological phenomenon—part of the order of nature itself—yet her face grew hot all on its own.
That made it awkward for her to face William and continue the conversation.
William, meanwhile, was harshly reproaching himself for having laughed earlier. The fact that he’d broken etiquette and laughed in such a serious situation shocked him.
So the two of them didn’t say a single word until Annie returned and laid out the hearty meal.
Rafaella, wondering why she felt so awkward over something as trivial as a stomach growl, had her mind wiped clean the moment appetizing meat, bread, and fruit were placed before her.
“Nom, nom. Wow. The meat’s seasoned really well today. Duke, have some too.”
“I’m fine. I already ate earlier.”
“Suit yourself.”
Rafaella cut a large piece of juicy meat and stuffed it into her mouth. The tender, savory flesh slid down her throat after only a few chews.
She spread jam and butter thickly on bread, added some salad, and took a hearty bite. She felt crumbs cling to her lips, but didn’t have the luxury to care—she was starving.
By the time she came to her senses, only empty plates remained on the table.
Rafaella finished off a glass of cold lemonade in one go, set the cup down with satisfaction, and grinned.
“Ahh—refreshing. Everything we do is to survive, right? Might as well live full. Don’t you think, Duke?”
“That’s true, but… um, you have some jam on you.”
“Oh.”
Rafaella lifted the napkin from her lap and vigorously wiped around her mouth.
But William kept staring at her face, his expression clearly dissatisfied.
“Hey, why are you glaring? Is it still not clean?”
“Yes. There’s still jam on your nose.”
Rafaella wiped her nose with her finger instead of the napkin, then popped her finger into her mouth with a playful grin.
“Strawberry jam really is the best.”
William debated where and how he should even begin to scold her, but when he saw the happiness on Rafaella’s face as she patted her full stomach, the corners of his lips simply curved upward.
“Duke.”
“Yes. Go on.”
After Annie cleared the table and served tea, then left, Rafaella spoke as if she’d been waiting for the moment.
Perfectly direct.
“Should I try trusting you too?”
