Chapter 7

Moretti shook her head, trying to drive away her growing unease.

‘No. Impossible. I’ve worked so hard, reporting that girl’s misdeeds to the Duke over and over.’

She had sent so many reports that the messengers had grown annoyed.
The steward must have come to punish the insolent girl who dared defy the Duke.

Eager to highlight her efforts, Moretti stepped between Cassia and the steward, Baron Lomond.

“Steward, there must be some mistake. I’m the one who’s been reporting everything to the Duke.”

Baron Lomond frowned and turned to her.

“I know. You’ve bothered the Duke with worthless trifles.”

Moretti flinched, then jabbed a finger toward Cassia and shouted:

“But that’s because—even in small matters—that girl, no, Lady Florence, has been defying the Duke’s orders!”

Edmund’s eyes widened in shock.

The boy was genuinely startled.

‘Did Cassia get caught switching out my poisoned meals?’

But the steward interpreted Edmund’s reaction differently.

‘Even Edmund is shocked by her nonsense.’

Of course—by “her nonsense,” he meant Moretti’s.

“We must expel Lady Florence from this villa at once!”

Blind to the steward’s thoughts, Moretti laughed triumphantly and again called Cassia “Lady Florence.”

At last, Cassia spoke up.

“You’re calling me Lady Florence again, Moretti.”

Moretti snapped back viciously.

“I can’t call someone who defies the Duke ‘Little Madam’!”

Cassia ignored her and turned calmly to the steward.

“As you can see, Baron Lomond, the governess bears me great resentment.”

But Moretti pressed on, unwilling to yield.

“Lady Florence has constantly forced her way into lessons and interfered with the education the Duke ordered me to give!”

“…I’ve already heard.”

“She openly defies the Duke’s will, sucking up to that brat! Clearly she thinks she can become the true Duchess!”

Moretti spoke as if that brat wasn’t her young master, Edmund.
And her voice was far too loud.

The steward’s expression darkened. He barked angrily:

“Silence! Someone might overhear!”

Even if it were true, blurting it out so crudely was not what the Duke wanted.
Even here, in a villa closely guarded by his men, the Duke wanted everything done quietly—without scandal.

The steward was scolding her for shouting.

So Moretti lowered her voice, whispering confidently so only those nearby could hear.

“Just earlier, Lady Florence tore up the basic magic circle I was teaching the Young Lord. That proves her malicious intent!”

The steward’s face grew harsher than ever.

“That is exactly the issue I came here for.”

“Yes, exactly…!”

Moretti’s lips curled in triumph.

The steward moved to the study where the lesson had been held.
Everything remained as it was: shabby, careless textbooks beside Edmund’s earnest notes.

With a grave look, the steward picked up the torn pieces of the paper and fit them together.

Then, for the first and only time, he turned to Edmund and asked:

“Edmund. Did you indeed learn this circle from your governess?”

“Yes.”

Edmund nodded.

Moretti jumped in, her voice shrill.

“You heard him! What clearer proof is there that Lady Florence has defied the Duke!”

The steward nodded slowly.

“Indeed. The evidence is conclusive.”

Cassia, meanwhile, was strangely calm.
On the surface, it looked as though Moretti had cornered her and the steward was siding with the governess.

Even Edmund, watching, grew frustrated.

‘Why isn’t she saying anything? If this goes wrong, she’ll be thrown out—or worse!’

The Duke never forgave defiance.
Expulsion would be the least of it—her life would be in danger.

Then Edmund froze at his own thoughts.

‘Wait—what? Am I… worried about her?’

Worried about the woman his uncle had forced on him to spy on and kill him?

But he had no time to dwell on it.

The steward turned to him and said quietly:

“You must be tired, Edmund. Please return to your room.”

“What? But it’s the middle of the day—and this involves me too!”

The steward was firm.

“This is the Duke’s order. For your protection, you must go.”

At his signal, large servants approached.
If Edmund resisted, they would drag him away.

The boy bit his lip hard, but had no choice but to leave the study on his own feet.

‘Why am I so powerless…?’

As he was led out under guard, Edmund glanced back between the looming figures of the adults.

Cassia’s bright green eyes sparkled gently beneath her curved lashes.

And then—

‘Huh?’

She looked utterly at ease.

She winked at him, out of sight of the others, and mouthed silently:

“Don’t worry. Trust me.”

To his own surprise, Edmund understood her clearly.
Even more surprising—he felt a strange sense of relief.

Of course the steward had no desire for Edmund to hear what would follow.
That was why he sent him away.

‘Yes. Neither the Duke nor the steward would want Edmund to know this.’

Ignorant of that, Moretti cried out boldly—having dropped all honorifics.

“Steward! We must drive that wretched girl out right now!”

Baron Lomond studied the torn paper grimly.

“This circle is indeed a very serious matter.”

“Exactly! This is the very spell the Duke ordered me to teach!”

I added the unspoken truth in my mind.

‘Yes… this was a black magic circle. The Duke’s true command was not to teach poorly—but to corrupt Edmund by disguising black magic as proper study.’

In the original story, Edmund unknowingly learned black magic as a child.
Later, it made him terminally ill and caused horrific side effects.

That was why I had insisted on attending lessons—why I tore up that paper.

And Moretti never realized the truth.
She lacked the knowledge to recognize it was black magic at all.

“The Duke has emphasized this many times,” the steward muttered darkly.

“Whatever else, this must be taught exactly as ordered.”

“Yes! I did exactly as he commanded!”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes! You can see for yourself!”

“….”

The steward’s brow furrowed deeply.

Moretti, excited, grabbed his sleeve.

“See? Lady Florence is the one defying the Duke!”

But then—

Smack!

The steward flung her off violently.

“Ah!”

She hit the wall with a thud, staggering.

“St-Steward…?”

She stared in shock.

Surely he would glare at Cassia with rage.
Surely he would throw her out.

That was the moment Moretti had worked toward for weeks.

But instead—he was glaring down at her, eyes full of fury and contempt.

His voice was cold and merciless.

“Bind her at once. Drag her to the basement of the main estate annex.”

“Yes, sir!”

The steward’s men seized Moretti roughly.
Her hair was disheveled, her arms twisted painfully behind her back.

“What are you doing?! Let me go! It hurts! Stop!!!”

She knew what it meant.
The basement of the annex was a place no one returned from alive.
It was where the Duke’s enemies and traitors were tortured.

Screaming, Moretti pointed at me.

“You’re wrong! Not me—her! She’s the one who defied the Duke!”

But the steward ignored her.

Instead, he bowed respectfully to me.

“Thank you for warning me. Without you, I might have faced the Duke’s wrath.”

“Oh no, it was only what I should do.”

I smiled sweetly and waved it off.

Moretti couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

In her mind, she should be the one praised, and I should be the one dragged away.

Yet the opposite was happening.

“Why me?! It should be her! She’s the one who defied the Duke!!!”

At last, the steward strode forward with a savage expression and struck Moretti hard across the face.