Chapter: 20
I hesitantly stepped into the props store.
“Welcome. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Uh… I’m looking to buy a handkerchief.”
“The women’s handkerchiefs are over here.”
“Oh, no. It’s actually a gift for the young master.”
“I see. In that case, I’ll guide you over this way.”
Unlike the security guard, the store clerk treated me kindly. Thanks to that, I found the courage to look around a bit more confidently.
This is the first gift I’m giving to the young master—I can’t just stay hunched up like this!
“This line is the most popular choice for gifts. It’s a linen and silk blend, so it’s soft to the touch and doesn’t fray easily. If you’d like, we can also add embroidered initials free of charge.”
The handkerchiefs displayed neatly on the smooth table looked luxurious at a glance.
As I browsed slowly, a subtle beige handkerchief with pale brown and green vine embroidery caught my eye.
Should I buy this one? Let’s see, the price…
When I looked at the small price tag under the handkerchief, my eyes nearly shook like an earthquake had hit.
“Oh my. A handkerchief costs twenty francs?”
It was twice the price of the dress I had earlier deemed too expensive to buy.
Just one handkerchief cost as much as what I could live on for a week—or even two weeks if I tightened my belt.
I knew department store items were pricey, but I hadn’t expected this level.
I asked carefully,
“Could I see some cheaper options?”
“Of course!”
The clerk smiled gently and showed me other items.
But since I had already seen a really nice handkerchief, none of the others satisfied me.
…Even if it were for myself, it wouldn’t matter. But this is for the young master.
This is the first gift I’m giving with my first paycheck. I didn’t want to leave a sense of regret in a meaningful gift, so I decided to spend the large sum bravely.
“I’ll take this one.”
Twenty francs.
It was far more than the total of all the items I had bought before.
But thinking of it as a gift for the young master, I didn’t feel it was wasted at all.
I left the department store with a cream-colored box tied with an elegant gold ribbon, feeling happy.
Unlike when I entered, my steps were light as I walked out.
Just as I was thinking of heading home,
“Mary?”
A familiar voice called me.
Turning my head toward the sound, I was startled.
“Ian?”
“So it really is you. It’s been a while, Mary.”
His silver eyes, looking at me, softened gently.
His navy-blue hair, like the evening sky pushing back the sunset, swayed in the wind.
After Ian moved away three years ago, we had lost contact.
Since our families had all left the village, I thought it would be difficult to see him again—but here we were.
Yet something felt strange. His face was definitely Ian’s… but…
“When did you get so tall?”
In my memory, Ian had been the same height as me. But now, he was a head—or even two—taller than I was.
“Mary hasn’t changed at all.”
“Not changed? I’ve grown a bit too, you know?”
“Really? Compared to before… oh, maybe you’ve gotten a little smaller.”
“It’s not that I got smaller—it’s that you grew way too much!”
When I glared at him, Ian laughed, a sound that was oddly pleasant.
“How’s Colin?”
“Good. Come to think of it, Colin mentioned you recently.”
“Colin? What did he say?”
“He said he wanted to eat the sandwiches Mary made. So I made some with peanut butter and blueberry jam, but he complained that it wasn’t the same taste.”
Ian mimicked pouting like Colin always did.
It reminded me of Colin’s little face, always puckering his lips when he was sulking.
I chuckled.
“Of course. That sandwich used special Mary-made jam that’s not sold anywhere.”
“Ah, that explains it. Mary, would you sell some of that special jam for my picky little brother?”
I naturally agreed to Ian’s sly request.
“The Mary-made jam is a bit pricey. Is that alright?”
“Hmm, how much?”
“Twenty francs, sir.”
“That’s difficult. I don’t have much money. Do you offer a friend discount?”
“Alright. As a friend, I’ll give it to you for just one franc.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Ian took my hand and kissed the back of it.
Receiving such a proper greeting, one usually reserved for nobles, left me momentarily breathless.
I quickly composed myself and laughed.
“Hahaha, Ian. That was so gentlemanly. Where did you learn that?”
“I saw it often while working at a mansion.”
“A mansion? You work for a noble family?”
“Yes. It just happened that way.”
Ian hated nobles.
Though he didn’t show it blatantly, his casual remarks, subtle actions, and fleeting expressions often revealed his hostility toward them.
“You dislike nobles, Ian?”
I asked carefully. Ian hesitated briefly, then nodded with a smile.
That day, I learned the truth about Ian’s father.
His father had been a noble, a minor count with a small estate.
He whispered sweet words of love to Ian’s mother, who was a maid, trying to seduce her. But all he wanted was pleasure without responsibility.
When she told him she was pregnant, he offered her two options:
Abort the child, or if she insisted on keeping it, leave the count’s house and live quietly elsewhere.
He acted so boldly because she was a commoner.
If it had been another noblewoman, he would have had to take her as a secondary wife. But a commoner, a servant at that—things were different.
Some nobles, even when impregnating their maids, would at least provide financial support.
But not him. He gave her compensation, made her sign a paper promising never to reveal the father’s identity, and cast her out.
Ian’s mother moved to a remote small village, raising Ian alone while doing all sorts of work.
Raising a child alone in a strange place wasn’t easy, but she never showed her hardships to her son.
“My mother is amazing. She worried I’d get hurt, so she told me my father died in an accident.”
“How did you find out the truth?”
“That irresponsible man came drunk one night and started yelling all sorts of things at me.”
For some reason, the count found his way to Ian’s house at night, caused a commotion, then left.
That’s how Ian learned that his very existence had ruined his mother’s life.
To avoid further entanglement with the count, Ian’s mother moved again.
“By the way, Colin isn’t that man’s child.”
Colin was the son of a kind man who had taken in Ian’s mother when she had nowhere to go. He had lost his wife to illness and was raising Colin alone.
Ian’s mother and Colin’s father, both in similar situations, gradually grew close.
But then Colin’s father died in an unfortunate accident, leaving Ian’s mother to raise Colin alone.
“Oh, and about that irresponsible man… he committed suicide not long after, due to gambling debts. I heard he borrowed money from here and there, even from loan sharks. That night he came to my mother to borrow money. Hah, what a hopeless man.”
I could still vividly picture Ian’s expression, laughing bitterly.
“All nobles are like that. They talk about etiquette and dignity, but when it comes to responsibility, they close their eyes and keep silent. And to commoners like us, they don’t even treat us as humans. To that man, my mother was just an easy woman to use at his convenience.”
The anger I saw in Ian that day was quiet but immense, like a bright red flame etched deep into my memory.
“Mary, what are you thinking so deeply about?”
“Oh, just worried. Working at a mansion can be tough.”
I answered vaguely. Ian smiled softly.
“It’s fine. It’s not that hard. Everyone’s kind.”
If even someone who dislikes nobles this much said that, they must really be good people.
“That’s a relief. I’m glad you’re doing well.”
“Mary, how have you been lately?”
“I’m also working as a maid in a mansion.”
“At a mansion?”
Ian’s eyes widened.
“Are you at Madam Emma’s house?”
It made sense for him to be surprised. In the past, I couldn’t have imagined leaving that household.
“Yes. Somehow, it ended up that way.”
Ian didn’t ask further and simply nodded. His gentle tone felt like it respected and supported my choices.
“At which mansion?”
“Hamilton’s.”
“Hamilton? That’s nearby. I’m at the Count von Lisenberg’s house.”
“Wow! Then we can meet like this sometimes.”
I was happy at the thought of seeing Ian often.
“Oh, Mary. I wanted to ask you something when we met.”
“Hmm?”
“Did you not like the gifts I sent?”
“Gifts?”
I tilted my head in confusion.
“Yes. I sent a few things with letters—chocolates, cookies, a hair ribbon…”
As I listened, a thought suddenly struck me.
“That hair ribbon… was it white silk with small beads?”
“Yes.”
I hadn’t seen the letter, chocolate, or cookies, but I had seen that ribbon.
Madam Emma had tried it on my head, called it tacky, and thrown it in the trash.
