ITOHRLL | CHAPTER 11

Chapter 11

“Here we go. This is a letter from Lady Catherine Amber, daughter of Viscount Amber. To the Honourable Duke Kallen: On a night when golden stars embroider the heavens, I find myself thinking of you. Tales of your greatness drift to me like legends, like stories spun in the pages of novels. In your hand, your jet-black hair must feel as smooth as silky threads. And your large hands—surely like the claws of the famed dragons from the Lar Gorge. ’Lar Gorge dragons and silken threads—I remember asking about those earlier.”

“That’s right. Keep reading,” Kalen said.

Clearing her throat, Elle continued, “Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to breathe the same air as Duke Kalen. How happy I would be if we shared the same space.”

“Wait a minute,” Kalen interrupted.

Elle looked at him, puzzled.

‘Please don’t tell me he doesn’t understand this sentence… It’s just one line. No way…’

She shook her head, then opened her eyes wide to meet his gaze.

He furrowed his brows.

“I don’t understand this part.”

“Which part? Just what I read: ‘How happy I would be if we shared the same space and breathed the same air.’ It’s only one line.”

“That part. ‘Breathing the same air’—what does that mean? Isn’t breathing something we do all the time?”

Elle was momentarily speechless at his question.

‘Is he joking?’

She studied Kalen’s face carefully. 

His expression was serious. 

He truly didn’t understand the meaning of the sentence.

‘How can someone not get this? But… well, people think differently. Maybe he doesn’t get it.’

That happens.

It’s fine. 

He just doesn’t know. 

That’s all.

Forcing a strained smile, El steadied her voice and gave the best explanation she

Forcing herself to stay calm, she gently explained, “It’s… It’s a poetic way of saying ‘spending time together in the same room, maybe having a conversation.’ Something like that.”

“But why ‘breathing’? Why use that expression?”

“That’s… because when people talk, they share breaths; maybe that’s why it’s written like that.”

Caught off guard by his unexpected question, Elle answered hesitantly.

Fortunately, Kalen nodded, and Elle exhaled a relieved breath without realising it. 

Then she read on, her voice trembling slightly less than before.

I thought I’d just have to read letters, but this is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I expected.

“It would be my greatest honour to go on a picnic with Your Grace to Dunil Hill. I will prepare Ghosla sandwiches. You know Dunil Hill, right?”

“I know Dunil Hill, but what’s a Ghosla sandwich?”

“It’s a sandwich from the Ghosla restaurant at Widen Square. Soft white bread stuffed with spiced steamed goose meat and vegetables. It’s so popular that there’s always a line.”

“Goose meat…”

Kalen’s trailing voice made Elle uneasy.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’ve decided what to write in reply.”

“May I ask what you plan to write?”

Kalen looked directly at her, his voice serious with no hint of a smile.

“I’m thinking of writing: ‘I don’t like goose meat. Therefore, I cannot go on a picnic with you.’

Oh, heavens! This is a love letter, not a menu order!

Elle bit her lip to stop herself from yelling.

‘How can he think of replying like that to a love letter… What on earth is going on in this man’s head?’

Seeing her stunned expression, Kalen asked again.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Excuse me? Tried what?”

“The Ghosla sandwich.”

“No, I haven’t. Do I need to describe the taste as well?”

“No, no. Please continue.”

Every single line required a long explanation.

By the time they finished one letter, over an hour had passed, and Elle was utterly drained.

For a moment, she regretted this whole thing.

At this rate, one gold coin per letter might not be too much after all. 

There was a reason they charged that much.

‘Should I ask to rewrite the contract and charge a gold coin for every single line?’

She slumped into her chair, gasping for air, while Kalen pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing his reply.

Compared to the hour it took to read the letter, Kalen’s reply was swift.

Surely he didn’t write that he hates Goose, did he?

Elle couldn’t help but worry, even though she wasn’t concerned with the response.

She paused to catch her breath while Kalen was writing, then took out the subsequent letter.

Kalen glanced at his watch and said,

“Let’s have some food and then continue.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Then go eat.”

“I’m also responsible for the meals of the people I work with.”

What a straightforward man. 

Elle no longer refused. 

Besides, she’d only had a light breakfast and was starting to feel hungry herself.

“Alright, then I won’t say no.”

“Right this way.”

Kalen stood and led her through a door connected to his study. 

It opened into a modest sitting room. 

Though “modest” might be an understatement—this space was far too lavish to call simple. 

Probably someone else had decorated it, not Kalen.

Unlike a typical parlour, there was no low coffee table. Rather, a tiny dining table for two people was in the middle, already arranged with a single meal.

“We’ll resume in an hour.”

“Aren’t you going to eat, Your Grace?” Elle asked.

Kalen looked at her steadily before speaking.

“My meal will be served elsewhere.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words.

How naive to think they’d dine together. 

She was an employee, after all. 

There was no way he’d share a meal with her employer.

Embarrassed, she stammered, “I see. Please enjoy your meal.”

“You too, my lady.”

After Kalen left, Elle tugged at her hair in frustration.

“Oh, how embarrassing. Why did I even think we’d eat together? Am I such a fool?”

As she berated herself, her gaze landed on the food laid out on the table, and her mouth watered. 

Soft white bread that looked delightfully fluffy, a steaming bowl of soup sending up gentle wisps of steam, thinly sliced ham, fresh vegetables and fruit, and even pudding for dessert.

She sat down primly at the table, momentarily overwhelmed by the spread before her.

The first person who came to mind was her mother.

“Apple pudding… that’s one of Mother’s favourites…”

It wasn’t apple season, and with her family’s modest means, making pudding like this was a rare treat—usually only once in the fall when apples were available. 

Seeing it now, her eyes grew misty.

Blinking away the tears, she tore a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup. 

She took a sip of wine from the crystal glass.

“Mmm, delicious. It tastes like honey. Yeah, it’s easy to misunderstand sometimes—no need to get so flustered. For now, just enjoy the food.”

Exhausted as she was, the meal tasted all the better. 

Though reading the letters was more challenging than she expected, crossing this first hurdle made the food go down smoothly.

She didn’t know how long this job would last, but it was a good start.

Soon she finished eating and returned to the study to review the next letter.

As Elle began reading, Kalen entered.

“Shall we start?”

At his invitation, she looked up, puzzled by his appearance. 

His face looked worse than before.

“Are you alright? You look pale.”

He’d skipped lunch because of an unexpected visitor and felt a slight dizziness, but after steadying himself, he nodded as if nothing was wrong.

“I’m fine. Let’s begin.”

“Alright.”

Encouraged by his words, Elle turned her attention back to the letter. 

Any further concern would be intrusive.

Composing herself, she began reading with a little more ease than in the morning.

From what she’d gathered earlier, the duke struggled not just with the ladies’ language but also with literary expressions. 

Now that she understood him better, reading the letters was easier.

“The stars in the sky, the moon itself, pale in comparison to Your Grace’s beauty…”

“Hmm.”

As she read through yet another cringe-worthy letter—just as awkward as Catherine’s—suddenly a faint groan escaped. 

Kallen’s face grew even paler than before, cold sweat forming on his brow.

Elle set the letter down.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“N-no.”

“You look very pale.”

“Wait a moment, let’s take a break.”

Sweat beading on his forehead, Kalen struggled even to breathe.

“Shall I help you?”

“No.”

His answer was so firm that Elle quietly folded her hands on her lap. 

Still, an uneasy feeling crept over her, and she glanced at him sharply.

‘His lips are turning blue… Should I call someone?’

Kalen closed his eyes, gasping for breath, then slowly opened them again. 

But he barely managed to open them fully—he looked far worse than she expected.

Unable to decide what to do, Elle fidgeted anxiously in her seat. 

Suddenly, Kalen furrowed his brow and rose to his feet. 

Instinctively, Elle stood as well.

“Ugh.”

But as he stood, his body wobbled, his hands flailed wildly, and with a loud crash, he collapsed to the floor.

Bang!

The chair toppled over with a clatter. 

Startled, Elle dashed to his side.

“Your Grace! Duke! Please, wake up! Duke!”

Panic swelled inside her.

‘Has he fainted? Should I call someone? But what if they find out?’

A rush of thoughts flashed through her mind.

Elle slapped Kalen’s face gently, calling his name again and again.

“Duke Elias! Please come! Can you hear me? Duke!”

Her desperate calls seemed to have some effect—Kalen’s eyelids twitched faintly.

“Your Grace? Are you conscious? Can you see my face?”

Elle spoke urgently, but Kalen only moved his lips slightly. 

Then, trembling, he reached out a shaky hand toward her. 

Sensing he wanted to say something, Elle pressed her ear close to his face.