Should she greet him first?
Maylily quickly realized she had no such right given her low status, and that thought oddly put her at ease as she stopped beside the table.
“Would you like to order?”
She lowered her gaze to her notepad at once, deliberately ignoring the eyes fixed steadily on her face and the refreshing scent brushing her senses.
“Cottage pie and beer.”
“There are quite a few orders ahead, so it might take a while for the food… Would you like the beer first?”
“As you wish.”
As if by unspoken agreement, Maylily and the man behaved like strangers who had never met. It felt like a scene from an absurd play.
Did he just happen to come in by chance? But if that were the case, why would he specifically ask for me…? Is he expecting an apology? I thought I’d already paid enough for that…
Even as she moved around the dining hall, the confusion he stirred in her refused to settle.
After placing his food on the table, Maylily continued to steal anxious glances at him. But after their eyes met two or three times, she deliberately avoided looking his way.
Surely… I won’t get fired from the restaurant too, right?
The thought made her uneasy, her heart tightening with anxiety. Yet even when she placed the bill on his table at his request and turned away, he said nothing.
By the time she cleared a neighboring table and delivered another order to the kitchen, the man by the window was already gone.
She felt a little embarrassed, as if she had been the only one overly conscious of him.
Still… I’m glad. Nothing happened.
Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, Maylily picked up an empty tray and headed to the window table. The cottage pie—one of the restaurant’s popular dishes—was barely touched, as if it hadn’t suited the Count’s taste. The beer was much the same.
He could’ve at least eaten a little more, considering the effort that went into making it.
Thinking of the chef, who took pride in his cooking and would feel disappointed, dampened her mood as well. With a small sigh, she shifted her gaze to the bill holder—and froze.
There lay the exact amount for the meal… and a check with a sum far exceeding her monthly wage.
“That can’t be…”
Murmuring in disbelief, Maylily picked up the check—and found a smooth, stiff card beneath it.
A business card with the man’s name and office address.
Finding the place listed on the card wasn’t difficult. She had passed by it dozens of times while commuting to the Roden Opera House over the past half year. It was also one of Aberk’s landmarks.
Stepping down from the carriage she had taken from the Cryer district where her boarding house was located, Maylily stopped in front of the building that always drew admiration.
Even among the grand and luxurious buildings of Aberk, this one stood out with exceptional opulence. The words “Skaard Hotel,” engraved in metal on the front, gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.
Hugh Skaard, Count Everscourt.
The clue had been in the name all along…
The reason she hadn’t immediately connected his name to this hotel was simple—she had never imagined there could be any point of contact between herself and a man who sat at the very top of Aberk.
Tilting her head back until her neck strained just to see the top of the building, Maylily let out a heavy sigh and straightened herself.
Standing before it, she felt like a trivial creature dwarfed by its grandeur. Even though she had chosen her nicest outfit and worn the shoes she reserved for special occasions.
Pacing nervously near the granite fountain that adorned the front of the hotel, she checked her handbag to make sure the check was still there.
After a sleepless night of deliberation, Maylily had concluded that the check was a warning—or perhaps a threat—from Count Everscourt.
No matter how generously she assessed her service the previous day, it hadn’t been anything beyond average. There was no way such a large sum was merely a tip. And if it had been an apology or consolation for her dismissal, he wouldn’t have left it behind without a word.
The Count was someone who could casually spend her entire monthly salary on a single unsatisfactory meal—and by doing so, he seemed to be reminding her that she was not someone who could stand as his equal. Or perhaps it was an attempt to sway her with his wealth.
What was certain was this: if she ignored this signal, their ill-fated connection would not end here.
Perhaps next, she would be fired from the restaurant. Or even thrown out of her boarding house.
The chain of anxious thoughts had kept her awake all night. By dawn, she had resolved to seek him out—return the check that wasn’t hers, apologize properly, and bring everything to a clean end.
She couldn’t go on living with this constant unease.
Drawing in a deep breath as if to steel herself, Maylily finally stepped toward the hotel entrance.
The lobby beneath the long, cascading crystal chandelier was even more dazzling than she had imagined. Marble, red velvet, and exotic plants with broad leaves adorned the space.
Amid elegantly dressed guests, Maylily wandered until she found the front desk at the far end of a space decorated with paintings and sculptures. Two of the staff were busy with guests, so she approached the remaining one.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where I might find Count Everscourt?”
The staff member—her hair styled high in the latest fashion and lips painted a bold red—looked Maylily up and down openly. Her gaze quickly assessed Maylily’s status and filled with disdain.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but the Count gave me this card…”
The staff member glanced at the business card Maylily hurriedly produced and sighed.
“He’s not someone you can meet just because you have a card—”
She stopped mid-sentence, her expression shifting as if recalling something. She looked more closely at Maylily’s face.
“What’s your name?”
“Maylily Isle.”
With a slight nod, the staff member checked something in a notebook and then stepped out from behind the desk.
“Follow me.”
She led Maylily down a corridor opposite the way she had come. At the end stood a small iron-barred chamber, barely large enough to fit five or six people standing close together.
“Seventh floor.”
Only after stepping inside beside the staff member did Maylily realize the instruction was directed at the uniformed man already inside. He nodded and slid the metal gate shut.
Clunk. The floor jolted.
Is it an earthquake?
Startled, Maylily looked around—but the others remained calm. Then she noticed the view outside the bars descending.
No—the room itself was rising.
By the time she realized this must be the “elevator” she had only heard about, it came to a stop.
Clatter. The man opened the gate.
“Seventh floor.”
Guided by the staff member, Maylily arrived at an office where she was greeted by the Count’s secretary.
“Welcome, Miss Isle. We briefly met at the opera house—though I’m not sure if you remember. I’m David Curran, Count Everscourt’s secretary.”
“Hello, Mr. Curran. I remember seeing you outside the director’s office.”
Unable to return his bright smile—so at odds with everything that had happened—Maylily awkwardly lowered her head.
“It’s kind of you to remember me. What brings you here today?”
“I came to apologize for my rudeness the other day… and to return something.”
“I see. The Count is currently in his office, so I’ll check if he’s available to see you. Please wait a moment.”
“Thank you.”
After guiding her to a nearby table, David left. While waiting, Maylily removed her scarf, folded it neatly, and checked that every button on her coat was properly fastened.
Before long, David returned.
“You may see the Count now.”
“Yes.”
This time, I have to do everything right.
Taking a deep breath, Maylily stood. As she followed David, her chest pounded with tension like a hammer striking again and again.
