“Didn’t His Majesty say so? Once everything is ready, you’ll be moving to the Del Ponto estate.”
“He didn’t say anything like that.”
Astrid suddenly realized—the emperor wasn’t the kind of person who shared all information. Come to think of it, during their first meeting, he’d said what he wanted and sent her off just like that.
Seeing her puzzled expression, Rosana added,
“They probably placed the orders for the necessary items at dawn. If things go smoothly, you might be able to move in this afternoon.”
“That fast?”
“As long as the bedroom and dining room are set up, there shouldn’t be a problem with the basics.”
“…It feels like I’m being kicked out.”
With a bitter feeling, Astrid lightly kicked a small pebble at her foot. The pebble rolled and stopped at the root of a shrub.
“Kicked out? Not at all. It’s all for your sake, my lady.”
“For my sake?”
“Yes. Even if you’re a personal guest of His Majesty, it doesn’t look good for an unmarried young lady who hasn’t had her debut to stay long in the Imperial Palace.”
“Debut?”
Every time Rosana spoke, Astrid couldn’t help but respond with another question. The emperor’s voice echoed in her mind: You have much to learn.
“It’s an event where noble young ladies formally greet His Majesty upon reaching adulthood. Only after the debut can you be officially recognized as an adult noblewoman and request access to the palace.”
“Geez… they sure make things complicated.”
Rosana couldn’t help but laugh at Astrid’s blunt response.
This girl was strange, honest, and amusing. Well, considering she’d spent almost her entire life at sea, land life alone would feel foreign—so it was no wonder she didn’t understand the customs and etiquette of noble society.
“Is there really any need to watch over someone like this?”
The reports she had to send weekly to Madam Vasquez would likely be filled with content no more serious than a street play script.
Florian didn’t hate everything about working at the merchant guild.
He enjoyed sitting at his desk, reviewing ledgers, checking the list and quantity of new goods, and organizing their origin and destination. He also liked inspecting samples of goods from new suppliers to compare their quality with previous ones.
He even had a knack for predicting trends—by analyzing what goods were going to which cities and the payments involved, he could guess which products would be popular next season.
What Florian disliked was overseeing loading and unloading at the ports or various warehouses throughout the city—dealing with noisy, crowded places.
He was terrible at shouting over the din and inhaling dust in echoing halls.
While flipping through a list of orders, carefully checking if the goods matched what was on the wagons, he noticed something unfamiliar in the list of familiar clients.
“Del Ponto estate? That place has been abandoned for over ten years.”
He asked the employee standing nearby.
“Maybe Lord Del Ponto has returned. The order came in suddenly this morning.”
“Hm…”
Florian casually nodded and skimmed the order.
Several bolts of muslin—likely for curtains. Tons of linen—probably for the kitchen and dining room.
But what stood out was the silk and organza, commonly used for women’s clothing.
Did he bring a wife with him or something?
It was a large order, but the amount loaded on the wagon seemed clearly insufficient.
“There’s not enough silk and organza. Is this all we have in the warehouse?”
“We’ve already contacted the outer-city storage. They’ll bring it in with the next shipment into the inner city.”
“We’ll have to send another delivery this afternoon.”
“The boss actually said he wants you to go along this time too, make a good impression…”
Mateo, the boss, had a soft spot for noble clients. They were often arrogant and demanding, but if you earned their trust, you could have a long-term business relationship.
He always expected Florian to charm the clients the way he did. Florian didn’t want to go, but since they both knew each other’s schedules, he had no good excuse.
“Fine.”
Aside from those two items, everything else on the wagon seemed fine.
Florian signaled the driver that it was okay to depart.
Astrid’s moving preparations ended quickly.
In fact, it could barely be called a move—she had no belongings or luggage at all. Rosana had only packed a few changes of loungewear and pajamas into a leather trunk, saying, “You’ll at least need clothes to wear.”
The carriage didn’t take her far from the palace. Astrid found it silly that she even needed a carriage for that short distance.
The Del Ponto estate had an air of neglect and desolation, untouched by people for years. But as if trying to make up for that, the grounds bustled with people from the gate to the front door.
Some scraped off the rust from the gate, others dug up dead plants from the garden, while others planted new rose bushes with red buds.
Astrid jumped down from the carriage. As Rosana pulled out the trunk, the carriage turned and left the way it came.
Several more wagons waited behind them.
The wagons stopped one by one, and workers began unloading and carrying the goods into the estate—a cycle that repeated like clockwork.
“The bedroom should already be prepared. Would you like to go inside?”
“No, I want to stay out here a bit and watch everyone.”
Astrid wanted to soak in the energy in the front yard. Seeing everyone working together reminded her of sailors on a ship’s deck, each fulfilling their roles.
Soon, another wagon stopped at the gate. The crest painted on the side looked familiar—it was from the Ortez Merchant Guild.
A sense of unease crept over Astrid, and she quietly hid behind Rosana.
“What’s wrong, my lady?”
“I, uh… might’ve caused a bit of trouble with someone from over there.”
Still hiding, Astrid watched the wagon.
A hooded man got down from the driver’s seat and began giving instructions to the workers.
His gaze scanned the garden, clearly searching for the person in charge. His eyes briefly met Astrid’s.
“Eh?”
“Ah!”
Astrid quickly ducked behind Rosana. It was a familiar face.
“You…!”
The man suddenly ran toward her.
As the wind blew back his hood, his handsome blond hair fluttered in the air. He was the young master who had been on the Ortez merchant ship.
Panicked, Astrid left Rosana behind and bolted away from the approaching man.
As she ran into the estate’s main entrance, she thought,
“Why is he here?”
At that exact moment, Florian was thinking the same thing.
But alongside that thought came a sudden, inexplicable anger. The nervous pounding in his chest that had kept him awake for days surged back—despite the sun still being high in the sky.
Florian hated running, and even when angry, he usually expressed it calmly and through words. But when he saw that red hair fluttering in the garden breeze, he felt a wild urge to chase after it.
Without even thinking about needing permission from the estate’s owner, Florian sprinted into the estate after Astrid.
“You! Stop right there—!”
“As if I’d stop just because you said so!”
Astrid ran as fast as she could to avoid being caught.
The main hallway extending from the front entrance was long. She weaved quickly through the workers to avoid collisions, changing directions nimbly.
As her red hair swung in her vision, she thought:
“This is way too eye-catching. I probably got spotted because of my hair. Maybe I should shave it off!”
She kept running and soon found herself deep inside the estate, where there were few workers.
Paradoxically, all that running lifted Astrid’s mood.
The sweat cleared her head. Maybe her recent restlessness was from not getting enough physical activity since being captured by the navy.
The yelling behind her faded into the distance until it was almost inaudible. Apparently, she was much faster.
Only then did Astrid ask herself—Why was I running when I’m stronger?
“Maybe because I didn’t expect him to chase me like that?”
She gradually slowed down and stopped, then looked back. She waited a while, but he wasn’t following anymore.
Using the layout of windows and wall decorations as landmarks, she retraced her steps. Even after a long walk, she didn’t see him. Had he lost her in the crowd? Or given up after realizing he couldn’t catch up?
“Was I running away because I felt guilty?”
Just then, Astrid spotted the blond young man. He was leaning against the edge of the corridor, panting heavily.
“You’re a terrible runner.”
She approached him with a teasing tone. He didn’t respond.
“Hey, about what happened back then, I…”
She reached out her hand to the silent young man.
Then—
Thud.
The moment Astrid touched him, he collapsed sideways.
