Chapter 22: How a Mercenary Uses a Name
“You broke something loud,” Valentin said, stepping in with his cane through the wide-open door. His eyes asked for an explanation, and Regina avoided his gaze.
Maybe he wouldn’t scold her for breaking an expensive decoration—maybe deduct it from her pay.
“Uh… I broke a decorative item,” she admitted.
“Oh… I thought you broke a person.”
“No matter what, I don’t break women. I know my strength. I only made that bet with Sir Finn because he’s a knight.”
Allan’s worries turned out to be overblown.
Regina’s cheeky, unapologetic tone—like a mischievous cat—made a faint smile play at Valentin’s lips.
“You sound like a very fine man,” he teased.
“And it’s an honor if you think so,” Regina replied with a small joke, glancing again toward the corridor. Valentin moved closer.
“Why do you look uneasy?”
“Because soon the Count of Rengier—the master of those… maids—is coming.”
Everyone in the empire knew the prestige of the Rengier family. It was the Emperor Regent’s clan for the past 15 years. Regina’s expression went tense.
So that’s why Pinet could act so boldly.
Valentin reached up to gently brush her hair aside—which looked intimate, like a loving couple.
“He must be trying to drive away a strong wife like you.”
Regina accepted his gesture as though it were affection. Valentin smiled softly, like he’d tamed a wild cat.
“So that’s why your mood is off today,” he observed.
“…Was it that obvious?”
“It felt that way.”
To be honest, he’d guessed part of it.
Valentin’s hand lingered over her face as if trying to read her expression. Even the fidgety cat, Whales, failed to notice his soft smile.
“Do you want me to deal with whoever’s bothering you outside?”
Leaning closer, he whispered. She shook her head lightly. His offered concern—glistening in his eyes—made her look away.
“Still, you seem calm about the Count’s arrival.”
“Well, I’ve seen wives trembling at the mention of in-laws. But to me, he feels more like someone threatening my mission—so I worry more about that.”
“Ah?”
“Maybe he thinks he can ‘deal’ with me.”
Aware of eyes outside the door, Regina kept her charming tone, though it felt awkward.
“Don’t worry—I won’t tell you to hunt the Count down.”
That said… he is my target.
Valentin took her hand, but lip service or not, Regina felt it was just a playful pretense.
“Well, then I don’t need to intervene… Duke?” she asked softly.
Instead of answering with a title, he pressed her hand into a gentle kiss right in her palm. Regina froze at the unexpected gesture.
Pretending to be a loving couple was one thing—but this was too far. His strong grip made it impossible to pull away.
“If we’re acting this out, we should do it properly.”
Every word he spoke sent warm shivers across her palm. She tensed, but her body betrayed her—everywhere except her expression.
“How exactly… are we supposed to do this?” she asked, heart fluttering.
Had he meant she must kiss him next? She squirmed under the teasing tickle in her palm.
She bit her lower lip, and tears of laughter shimmered at her eyes.
“Honestly, I’m really ticklish,” she admitted.
As his grip loosened, she pulled her hand free and settled her expression back into normal. Valentin looked slightly disappointed.
She sensed the door opening. It was her cue to leave.
“Duke… I should go find Sir Finn now,” she said lightly, scratching her palm.
“Don’t forget—we are a couple bound to overcome status differences.”
As she turned, he tapped her dress hem with his cane to stop her.
“I think calling me ‘Duke’ feels inappropriate.”
“Do you want to use my name now?”
“Yes… I’ll use your name—sweetly.”
Valentin nodded. He seemed to hope she’d drop the formality.
It was a small test—seeing how this tough mercenary would handle it. Her hesitation amused him.
She felt strange calling his name. It was so gentle and refined—like some exotic delicacy.
“Do we have to?” she asked. “I’ve seen noble couples who still use titles.”
Valentin raised an eyebrow at her refusal—but his pride was kindled.
“I don’t want it otherwise. Call my name, and I’ll let you go,” he said, meaning he wouldn’t press the cane until she did.
Right, this is part of the job, she reminded herself.
She turned fully to face him, determined to get it done. Despite her embarrassment, she must speak his name—clearly, lovingly.
He watched with quiet anticipation, enjoying her discomfort.
She inhaled deeply, smiled as the curtains fluttered, and spoke softly:
“Valentin.”
She repeated it again, letting her voice flow warmly:
“Valentin.”
After speaking his name, Regina pulled back. She rubbed her palm, still feeling the warmth and softness linger.
I actually said it, she thought. But he didn’t react—as if it meant nothing.
Valentin simply walked away into his room. Regina decided he was being mercurial—but didn’t feel anger. It was, after all, his request.
As she rounded the training hall corridor, Thomas slipped and nearly fell. Regina caught him.
“Th-thank you,” he stammered.
He blushed when he saw her face; her blue eyes had that effect. Yet she was strong and sturdy—a strange mix that made him shy.
Regina steadied him and glanced at the stack of papers in his hand.
“I was going to—”
“Is that from Madam Pinet?”
“Yes… please take it.”
Thomas bowed and handed over the notes. He and the other maids had heard the loud crash and seen Pinet bolt out. None knew exactly what happened, but they watched her red face of shame—it was unforgettable.
“Thanks,” Regina said.
“I’m Jane—please call me Jane. And you’re the Duchess, so formal speech isn’t needed.”
She pointed to the papers with a cautious look.
“And these are fake ledgers. I don’t think they’re real. Also… many maids have cried because of Pinet. We don’t dare say so—but we’re praying you beat Madam Pinet.”
Jane’s honesty moved Regina, who smiled gently in return. She felt proud of the girl’s bravery—almost patted her head like she would Rosie.
“Thanks. Now go on,” she said.
Jane nodded quickly and ran off.
Regina spread out the documents on a hallway table.
Let’s see how fake these are.
The list might look plausible—but the numbers were absurd. The prices didn’t match reality, especially for items she’d seen.
“Bold move… she knew they wouldn’t hand over the real ledger willingly.”
