Chapter 10
“…About the coachman who died with my father.”
“Ah, the one who had a five-year-old daughter.”
Colin nodded, as if he had already heard about it.
“I want to… let go of holding him responsible for Father’s death.”
“Why?”
Colin rested his chin at an angle and blinked slowly. His probing gaze made her shoulders shrink.
“I told you I want to make Edmon a better place to work.”
“You certainly did.”
“It was an accident to begin with… And I don’t think it was the coachman’s fault. He’d been working without sleep for days.”
“……”
“And bringing in a child to work—will that bring my father back to life?”
“…No, it won’t.”
Colin, who had been rhythmically tapping his cheek with his finger, took a deep breath.
“Well, fine.”
“…!”
“I thought it was a ridiculous idea anyway.”
He straightened his posture and added,
“It may upset you to hear this as his niece, but Carl’s thinking is terribly inefficient. And he was never particularly intelligent to begin with.”
“No. I’m not upset. I think so too.”
“……”
Colin seemed briefly at a loss for words at her quick agreement.
‘That’s a relief… At least he won’t oppose improving worker welfare.’
Ara exhaled quietly.
“Still, this wasn’t something that required such a long discussion…”
Raising a brow, Colin suddenly snatched the paper in front of her.
“Ah!”
“……”
“I wasn’t finished writing that yet…”
She tried to grab it back but failed to reach his arm.
Gently blocking her attempt, Colin stared at the worksheet.
[Question 3. When you want to refuse an unwanted tea invitation (black tea)]
“…I genuinely can’t read this handwriting. What did you write?”
“I’m full, so I’m sorry?”
“…That’s it?”
At her confident reply, Colin’s eyebrow tilted at an alarming angle.
“I needed an excuse to refuse, and I felt bad, so I added an apology.”
“……”
“…That’s not it?”
There was no response to her muttered question.
Colin was now looking at her as though she were a talking monkey.
‘If it’s that pathetic, just say so…’
She hadn’t expected that level of reaction and ended up closing her eyes.
After a long moment, Colin asked again.
“…Suppose someone else.”
“Hm?”
“Suppose someone else comes and asks you to have tea with them instead. This time, someone you actually like.”
The scenario expanded.
Ara tilted her head.
“Does that kind of situation even happen? Why prepare for such a worst-case scenario…?”
“…Now I understand why the Count tried so hard not to send you to parties.”
Ara bristled at his sigh-like remark.
“The person who invited me to tea earlier—are they standing right here?”
“They are.”
“And the person I like—am I absolutely not allowed to miss them?”
“You must not miss them.”
“Hmm…”
Ara sank into thought. Colin, watching her, was not at ease either.
‘What on earth was Count Edmon thinking…?’
This was a problem beyond verbal talent.
What kind of thought process led him to leave his daughter like this?
Colin pressed hard at the bridge of his nose.
‘Her speech is a mess. She lacks common sense. Yet she claims university-level studies aren’t difficult…’
What Ara didn’t know was that she had scored nearly perfect on the level-assessment test.
In reality, it was simply far easier than South Korea’s education standards. But Colin had no way of knowing that.
‘She can calculate, but she can’t converse…’
For a merchant, arithmetic was as natural as breathing. But it wasn’t commonly taught to noble ladies.
She seemed to have surpassed what could be considered basic academic achievement. That, to Colin, was puzzling.
‘Not only did she suddenly decide to inherit a family she had no interest in before, now she wants to improve merchant treatment…’
She wasn’t as foolish as the rumors claimed. Perhaps not noble-like—but not foolish.
‘Perhaps the obsession with high society is just a rumor too.’
Judgment required caution, but based on what he had seen so far, that was his impression.
Colin’s deep eyes examined the woman beside him.
Her thin, grayish hair resembled strands of spider silk.
It was the symbol of her family—and one reason Edmon, owner of vast textile mills and merchant guilds, was called the “Cunning Spider.”
The way she absently chewed on the end of her fountain pen hardly resembled a spider as society described.
“I don’t know.”
Arachné finally declared defeat. At the same time, Colin looked away.
“What’s the answer?”
“It doesn’t have to be the only one, but if the other person specified a particular drink, say you can’t drink that type. In this case, black tea.”
Her hand stopped mid-note. Her golden eyes widened in confusion.
“…I just say that?”
“Yes.”
“Then what about the other person I like?”
“Unless they’re an exceptional idiot, they won’t mention the same drink their competitor did. You can simply say you’ll drink something else.”
“……”
Isn’t that humiliating them…? Ara was stunned by the peculiar language of high society.
“It contains humor. That alone will prevent you from being seriously criticized. If the other party values honor, they won’t spread it around social circles.”
Ara tilted her head.
“From my experience, there haven’t been many people around me who value honor…”
Her surroundings had been full of false people.
‘Especially you.’
Colin, catching her intent, smirked.
“Do I not value honor?”
“Honestly, that contract was a scam. Don’t you think that was too much?”
The man wearing the skin of a herbivore slowly twisted his lips upward.
“If you put it that way, you were too much from the start.”
“Me?”
“Didn’t you shove me into a tiger’s den out of nowhere?”
“……”
“Without even giving me a hint.”
He was mocking her for appointing him guardian without a single word of consultation.
The casually thrown remark carried weight.
Leaving Ara in silence, Colin rose from his seat.
“Even if your guardian doesn’t seem honorable, don’t worry. The promise about improving treatment—I intend to keep it, even without being told.”
Ara couldn’t say a word until he placed the newspaper down and left the room.
“What’s this?”
Hermet—the capital’s most prominent employment agency.
Unlike other agencies, it specialized in posting positions for noble estates.
In front of the massive corkboard at the entrance, more people than usual had gathered.
“Move aside! Let me see!”
The crowd’s attention was on a freshly posted notice.
<Strongly Recommended by Hermet!>
Framed in ornate gold lace—a posting handpicked by Hermet’s own standards.
Job-seeking hyenas rushed to the board.
<Edmon Count Estate – Household Staff Recruitment>
-
Duties: Management of the Count’s estate (Housemaid)
-
Qualifications: Entry-level or experienced (minimum one year for experienced applicants)
-
Preferred: Experience working for a noble household
-
Salary: 150 gold/month (negotiable upward during interview)
-
Special: One paid day off per month (daily wage included)
“150 gold a month? Is this a scam?”
It was an unprecedented offer considering the market average.
“It’s posted by Hermet. You think they’d allow a scam?”
“Still… I’ve never heard of paid leave that includes daily wages.”
“I’ve heard of negotiating salary at interviews, but raising it? That’s new.”
Generous—and suspicious.
Amid the murmurs, positive voices emerged.
“Should I apply?”
“My friend’s looking to change jobs. Is there another copy of this notice?”
Several were already submitting applications. The document tray had long since emptied.
‘As expected… the response is incredible.’
Jeren, a Hermet employee observing the scene, thought to himself.
It was the most applicant-focused posting he’d ever seen at Hermet.
‘Most businesses don’t specify working conditions in detail.’
Once they state pay and conditions clearly, they can’t offer less—so they keep it vague.
‘And it’s Edmon…’
Arguably the second most famous family in the Empire after Capernik.
Most of the clothes displayed in luxury boutiques were made from Edmon textiles.
‘Though I later learned you could work your entire life and never afford a single one.’
As Jeren watched people snatch up Edmon postings, a bearded man sidled up beside him.
“Hey, Jeren.”
“What, here for the Edmon posting?”
Jeren handed him a fresh sheet, but the man frowned.
“Is this really a good offer?”
“What if it isn’t?”
“It’s not that I’m suspicious. I just heard the Count’s daughter has a terrible personality. As her older brother, how could I let my only sister suffer?”
“I heard things quieted down after the Count died.”
“Oh, yeah? Maybe she finally matured?”
“Haven’t you heard? Colin Oliver is her guardian now.”
“What?!”
The man’s eyes widened.
He let out a hollow laugh and muttered an impressive string of curses.
“Damn it. That bastard’s lucky. He used to be nothing but a street beggar wandering around.”
