Episode 19
Alesto hesitated for a moment, looking at the piece of chicken held out to him, before slowly opening his mouth.
He had expected to feel uneasy about eating from someone else’s fork—but surprisingly, it wasn’t unpleasant at all.
“Isn’t it good?”
The woman asking him looked so genuinely bright that even if she had fed him mud, he would have said it was delicious.
Helplessly, Alesto nodded.
“Yes.”
At his answer, the saint burst out laughing again, for no apparent reason.
When she laughed, her round face looked even rounder.
Though she was rather thin, her basic features were all soft and circular—round eyes, round nose, round lips.
He couldn’t even figure out how a nose could be round, but somehow hers was—small, clear, and like a little pearl.
Ruby hummed a little tune without realizing it.
She was thinking of the sapphire candle keeper Ferrel had given her as a bribe not long ago.
How much could she sell it for?
It was big—surely worth quite a lot.
And that wouldn’t be the end of it.
As long as she remained the maid of the lovely, soon-to-be Crown Princess, bribes would surely keep coming.
With high wages and plenty of under-the-table gifts, it was the perfect “two birds with one stone” situation.
If Lady Asha became the official Crown Princess—and later, the Empress herself—how much more money could she make?
Maybe she could buy a house with a garden, even hire a maid of her own someday.
Ruby genuinely liked Lady Asha, too.
She moved on her own, ate well, never swore, and wasn’t fussy or temperamental.
In this day and age, that made her an unbelievably easy master to serve—so easy that Ruby still had plenty of energy left even after work.
She couldn’t wait to go home and tell her little brother not to worry about academy tuition anymore, because his big sister was going to make a lot of money soon.
But as she made her cheerful way home, she ran into a familiar face on the landing of the first floor.
“Oh? Ruby!”
“Hi, Mary!”
Mary was another maid Ruby had met while working at Blossom Palace.
Unlike Ruby, she wasn’t one of the Owl servants, so she’d often wondered why Ruby’s post had suddenly changed—but of course, Ruby couldn’t tell her anything.
Today again, Ruby tried to just greet her and move along, but Mary grabbed her arm.
“Hey, did you hear the news?”
Ruby gently pulled her arm free with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry. I need to get home and take care of my siblings.”
She clattered down the stairs, but Mary couldn’t hold back her itchy curiosity. She hurried after Ruby, whispering in a low voice—
“Ferrel’s dead.”
Ruby froze mid-step.
Seeing her reaction, Mary, now even more excited, quickly caught up to her and whispered conspiratorially,
“And the craziest part? His body was found without a tongue. So it definitely wasn’t an accident.”
The more Mary spoke, the paler Ruby’s face became.
Was it really a coincidence that Ferrel—the man who had bribed her and pried into Lady Asha’s identity—had suddenly died?
No.
It couldn’t be.
Then came Mary’s chilling words:
“Oh, right—you said you were assigned to the third floor, didn’t you? What’s—”
“Mmff!”
Ruby whipped around, clamping a hand over Mary’s mouth with one hand while pointing a sharp finger with the other.
“Don’t ask. Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”
Mary, her mouth still covered, quickly nodded in alarm.
Only then did Ruby release her and step back.
The two girls exchanged fearful looks—and then, almost at the same time, hurried off in opposite directions.
At that same moment, in the ballroom—
Cedric’s steps came to an abrupt stop.
Asha’s man had arrived.
Just moments ago, he had been thinking that he hoped the Crown Prince would keep Asha from feeling lonely.
But seeing them together like that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
While he stood there blankly, a steward rushed up to him in a flurry.
“Ah, there you are, my lord! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Cedric tore his eyes away from Asha and looked at the man beside the steward—
a stout gentleman with a fine mustache.
“This is Count Curtis,” said the steward. “He’s a merchant—deals mostly in luxury goods like porcelain and carpets.”
“Good evening, Marquis. Bozé Curtis. I’ve heard a great deal about you from Count Carion.”
Count Carion—the one who had exchanged letters with Cedric when he received support from the Crown Prince for the pirate suppression.
Cedric relaxed his expression and shook the man’s hand.
“Ah, Count Carion. I owe him a few favors. You’re in trade, you say?”
“Yes, my lord. Since you’ve wiped out the pirates, sea routes will soon reopen for commerce. I was hoping to discuss some matters related to that, if you have a moment.”
“Of course. Do you know a quiet place nearby?”
“There’s a club upstairs, my lord. Please, allow me to lead the way.”
After finishing her meal, Asha left the ballroom and got into Alesto’s carriage.
Perhaps because the space was small and enclosed, she felt a bit tense.
Back in the ballroom, the wide space and lively noise had helped her stay at ease—she could distract herself by sharing food or chatting.
But inside the carriage, there was… nothing to talk about.
She glanced at Alesto sitting across from her.
Looking at his face suddenly reminded her of something she had learned recently—
When a man is too handsome, the corners of your mouth lift up all by themselves.
Really, that was the only explanation.
Because right now, there wasn’t a single reason to be smiling—except for that face.
Even though her mind was a tangled mess from the strange priest earlier, somehow, looking at him cleared it completely.
Was this what they called the handsome man effect?
Her heart was starting to thump for no reason.
Alesto, meanwhile, was quietly watching her.
She kept darting her eyes around, looking either nervous or flustered.
Whatever it was, it was contagious—his own calm heartbeat began to pick up.
He took a quiet breath, trying to steady himself.
‘Is it just me, or is it getting warmer in here?’
If he were alone, he would have opened the window. But he didn’t.
The saint was wearing a dress with a wide, round neckline—her collarbones and a stretch of bare skin were exposed.
The evening air was cool; if she caught a chill, she’d fall ill easily.
Better to endure a bit of heat than risk making the frail woman sick.
Still, it was distracting—so much bare skin showing.
‘Why… is that dress cut so low?’
…Bare skin?
Alesto’s face suddenly grew hot.
It hit him all at once that his gaze was fixed right on her exposed skin.
Flustered, he looked down—only to notice her slender hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap.
Right. Better to look at her hands instead.
At least they were constantly moving, giving him something else to focus on.
He realized he had never looked at a woman’s hands so closely before.
Then a thought struck him.
Were all women’s hands this small and pale?
Or was it just hers?
He didn’t need to measure to know that both of her hands could easily fit into one of his.
He found himself wondering—what would it feel like to hold them?
…Hold her hand?
Was he insane?
What kind of shameless thought was that?
Of course, if he considered his goal, it was about time to initiate some physical contact.
For two people newly “in love,” nothing accelerated closeness quite like touch.
But for some reason, that thought felt hypocritical.
He didn’t want to hold her hand just because of his objective.
He turned to look out the window instead—maybe it was safer not to think about her at all.
But his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to the saint again and again.
Eventually, he had to admit it to himself.
He wanted to hold her hand.
Not for any reason of duty or manipulation—but simply because he wanted to.
“May I hold your hand?”
