IBWHK 08

~Chapter 8~

It should have taken hours to assess the full extent of the damage. Yet, how long had it been since he entered? And already, the Duke emerged from the infirmary.

Surely, he isn’t coming out to reprimand me, is he?

Perhaps to nitpick—claiming the disaster was mishandled, or that something was lacking.
But the faint look of disbelief on his face didn’t match that suspicion.

Still, if that was his intention, I was prepared to show him what a true, history-making display of insolence looked like.

“The crisis was well managed,” he said evenly. “There’s little left for me to order.”
“Is that so.”
“This time, I’m in your debt, Madam.”

“…Excuse me?”

For a moment I thought I’d misheard. I actually poked a finger in my ear, but no—the sound was crystal clear.
And judging from the Duke’s faintly contorted expression, he hadn’t misspoken.
He looked as though admitting it physically pained him.

“Since when,” I murmured, “does Your Grace commend my efforts? You’re not yourself today.”
“Debt is debt,” he replied stiffly. “Had you not come here by chance, the casualties would have been far worse.”

I was momentarily silenced. His honesty was so unexpected it left a strange void in the air.
He cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, then switched expressions altogether.

“I’ll finish what remains. There’s no reason for you to stay any longer.”
“Pardon?”
“Return to the manor ahead of me.”

He gestured toward the exit, tone clipped, expression resolute—as if that fleeting softness earlier had never existed.

Work and sentiment were separate matters, clearly.
He probably thought I might misunderstand, cling to him like the real Elicia would have.

Please. As if I’d ever cling to you.

Yet even as I sneered inwardly, I felt the stares around us.
The monks, nuns, and workers—all those who had toiled beside us through the night—stood outside to see us off.

Did I make my distaste too obvious?

A newly married Duke and Duchess leaving separately would do no favors for the family’s reputation.
Such a sight would all but declare marital discord, and that, in turn, could unsettle the citizens of Lombard.

So I forced a wistful smile.

“A shame, but I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll return first—do take your time, Your Grace.”
“So you really were waiting for me, then.”

He looked at me like I’d just confessed to an unspeakable crime.

“This sort of attachment is… somewhat excessive.”
“What?”

“To think you waited in the cold just for me. It’s a relief I came when I did—had you frozen to death out here, even I couldn’t have avoided an inquest from the crown.”

What in the—?

If I was going to humor him, he could at least have met me halfway! How did he twist it into this kind of delusion?!

I hurriedly retorted.

“Ah—no, no! I wasn’t waiting for you, Your Grace. I had another companion.”
“Oh?”

He eyed me suspiciously, his knights doing the same behind him.
I swallowed my nerves and answered as casually as possible.

“Baron Comte. I was waiting for him.”
“Baron Comte…”

He rubbed his chin, a vague, baffled look crossing his face.

“Ah. That sort of taste, then… well.”

The way he said it—half pitying, half scandalized—made my blood boil.
There was even sympathy in his eyes.

What exactly are you imagining, you insufferable man?!

Of all people—Baron Comte?! The very thought was an insult to my eyesight!

I was about to protest furiously when the Duke’s voice dropped, calm and cutting.

“Madam, if you don’t wish for the baron to mysteriously disappear one day, I suggest you exercise restraint.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Merely a word of advice. Think of your reputation.”

For a moment, I could only gape.

He had managed to offend my dignity and my intelligence in a single breath.
I shot him a glare that said, How far do you intend to insult me?—but he merely gazed back with that same infuriating pity.

So I turned away.

Enough. Nothing good comes from engaging with this man.

Not because the knights were giving me sympathetic looks, but because I genuinely couldn’t see the point in arguing.

Without another word, I climbed into the carriage—leaving both the Duke and the unfortunate Baron Comte standing behind me.

As the Duchess’s carriage rolled away, the Duke’s eyes cooled to steel.

“Father Filio.”
“Yes, my lord.”

The monastery’s aged abbot bowed low.
The Duke did not return the gesture.

“Tell me everything that happened today,” he said quietly.
“Everything… my lord?”
“From the moment the Duchess set foot here—leave out nothing.”

Filio, who had spent a lifetime serving in devotion and reading human hearts, suddenly found himself unable to read anything in the Duke’s gaze.

It was like staring into a forest at midnight.

Later that night, under the infirmary’s dim lamplight, soft voices murmured.

“Finally… we can breathe.”
“I’ve never seen an accident this bad in my life. Patients kept coming, one after another… I was frozen with fear.”

The clinic workers spoke wearily, sitting for the first time all day.

“If not for her, we’d never have managed it.”
“I hate to admit it, but she saved us. She restocked the medicine, the bandages—and somehow dragged those arrogant inner-wall physicians here. The ones who don’t even obey the temple’s orders!”
“Agreed. That was… impressive.”

They still felt dazed, as if under a spell.
Ordinarily, they would have never obeyed a woman like that.
But today… their bodies had moved before their minds.

“Don’t you find it strange? She’s nothing like the rumors.”
“Come on, she was foul-mouthed enough to make a priest faint…”
“True, but somehow it didn’t feel wrong, did it? Every curse was… well-reasoned. I almost agreed with her.”

That was the problem.

Her words had bite—but every barb was justified.
Even when she swore like a sailor, her logic was flawless.
It was hard to stay angry when she was, inconveniently, right.

“I even saw her cry. Over the dying miners.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. When she donated her jewelry—she wiped her eyes when she thought no one was watching.”
“Now that you mention it, she didn’t even react when Thompson spat at her. Just kept feeding the others calmly.”

The more they thought about it, the less sense she made.
She had done good without once seeking credit or praise—completely unlike the noble ladies they knew, who used charity to polish their reputations.

Why?

“Let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”

That verse from the Scriptures surfaced unbidden in their minds.

“Anyway… I don’t know. But she’s not as awful as the rumors say.”
“Honestly? I think so too.”

Embarrassed smiles flickered around the group.

They suddenly felt ashamed of how freely they had gossiped before.

“If anyone badmouths her again, I’ll speak up. She’s foul-mouthed, sure, but her heart’s strangely kind.”
“Agreed. We owe her at least that much.”

And thus, the nickname changed—from that woman to our sharp-tongued but warm-hearted lady.

After returning from the monastery, I immediately collapsed into bed.

Every muscle screamed in protest; I could hardly move, and by midnight I’d developed a fever bad enough to summon the Lombard family physician.

A single day of work had destroyed me. What an inefficient body.

“Ugh… thought I was going to die.”

When I finally felt human again, several days had passed.
Outside the window, a snowstorm raged, whitening the world.

If this were before, I’d be out there shoveling snow at dawn.

Instead, I was snuggled in a warm bed, hugging a hand warmer.
The change felt both surreal and blissful.

I wonder how the injured miners are doing.

I closed my eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep—but stray thoughts floated up unbidden.
The wounded sprawled across the floor, the half-collapsed clinic, the frightened physicians who kept glancing my way…