SMR | Chapter 56

~Chapter 56~

“Yes. And she’s also someone who would never betray the monastery or me.”

Harriet smiled fondly, thinking of Emma, who had been writing to her regularly about the business.

“I don’t want to become a nun either. But honestly, I don’t have anyone I can truly rely on.”

Emma, who had once been envious of Harriet for gaining Trisha as a sponsor, grew up in the slums, moving from one relative’s house to another.

She had a similar background to Harriet, but their situations were very different. Emma would often say of herself, “I think I’m too obsessed with money to become a nun.”

“One day, I want to open a little shop. I think I’d be good at selling things. I want to become rich, get married, and have children. I’d also love to make a big donation to the monastery. Not like the nobles who toss a coin or two just for show—I want to give a real, big donation.”

Though she lived at the monastery and saw Kathrine as her benefactor, Emma still dreamed of a future like that. But deep down, she knew it likely wouldn’t come true.

Feeling sorry for her, Harriet had urged her many times not to give up. That she would help her one day, no matter what.

‘And that future is getting closer and closer, Emma.’

Even now, the person helping Kathrine at the monastery with organizing business documents and sending letters to Harriet was Emma.

Emma didn’t know what Harriet was planning yet, but if things continued like this, she would be more than qualified to become the head of St. Clarissa Soap & Herbs someday.

“When I first saw your business proposal, I thought you had planned it all out quite thoroughly, even down to the small details.”

“It probably still had a lot of holes here and there, though.”

“Some of the people who ask for even bigger investments come in with worse plans.”

As expected, he didn’t even bother to say something like “That’s not true,” even out of politeness. Harriet no longer felt disappointed by that.

“Thank you for thinking that way. May I hope for another investment in my next business?”

“Now you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I thought you might say that.”

When Harriet gave a sly smile, Cedric returned it with a similar expression.

“Then, I’ll see you next time.”

“Take care.”

Harriet gathered her documents and stood up.

Crossing the grand lobby of the Duke of Kailas’s mansion no longer made her nervous.

***

“Did the meeting go well?”

Cedric returned to his office after sending Harriet off. He was greeted by his closest aide and the person in charge of the St. Clarissa Soap & Herbs business, Gerard Austin.

“A good start. Well done, Sir Austin.”

At Cedric’s compliment, Gerard lowered his eyes with a modest smile, then hesitated before speaking.

“But Your Grace, I don’t quite understand something.”

Cedric gave him a look that said, Go on, and though Gerard wondered if it was out of line, he continued.

“Even if we look at the potential growth, St. Clarissa Soap & Herb is still a very small business by the Duke’s standards. I just don’t understand why you’re going through the trouble to support it…”

“You mean why I would go so far as to assign someone like you to oversee it?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just curious about the bigger picture Your Grace has in mind.”

Baron Gerard Austin was serious, responsible, and meticulous. He had been a top aide since the time of Cedric’s father, the former duke, and was both loyal and highly competent. He usually handled the most important projects within the dukedom.

So it was understandable for him to be confused about why he had been assigned to such a small venture.

“Well…”

Cedric felt a little awkward, knowing Gerard was looking at him with such hopeful curiosity, and he’d have to disappoint him.

“To be honest, I don’t really know either.”

“Sorry?”

“Just like you said, it’s a small business. It’s not going to have a big impact, and I doubt it’ll lead to anything major in the future.”

It wasn’t even a recent realization—he had originally planned to reject Harriet’s investment proposal.

“Well, let’s just say I’m repaying a debt from the heart.”

“A debt of the heart? To whom?”

“To the monastery, of course.”

Cedric gave a small smile.

 “Near the end of the Kipren War, when the delivery of medical supplies was delayed due to interference from Marquis Pascal’s side, St. Clarissa Convent urgently sent people and supplies. They were a huge help.”

Even now, just remembering it made him tremble with anger. Because of that interference, Rowan—who had been severely wounded—gave up the medicine meant for him so it could be used on other soldiers, and in the end, passed away.

‘Even if I take that medicine, I’m going to die anyway. Better to save someone else instead of wasting it on me.’

At the time, Cedric had regretted not insisting and giving the medicine to Rowan anyway. But his father, who always did what was right, had made the right call even then.

Thanks to his noble choice, the soldiers who survived were deeply moved by both Rowan and Cedric. Their confidence boosted—and that confidence had practically won the war.

But the people who had interfered with the delivery had achieved half their goal. They had hoped Rowan would die, and that their side would lose the Kipren War.

“Father did pass away in the end, but thanks to the powerful painkillers made by the convent’s apothecary, he didn’t suffer too much. That was a huge comfort to me back then.”

Cedric, briefly lost in bittersweet memory, lifted his head again with a calm expression.

 “I’ve always felt guilty that I never repaid that debt. So when I heard this business would help St. Clarissa Convent, I couldn’t really concern myself with profit, could I?”

“No, Your Grace. I understand your intentions clearly. I’ll make sure the business doesn’t suffer any losses moving forward.”

 “Thank you.”

Gerard gave a respectful bow and left the office.

 Cedric, now alone, stood at the window and fell into thought.

‘Yes… I’m doing this to repay the debt to St. Clarissa Convent.’

Other places had also sent emergency medical support, but he had chosen to prioritize St. Clarissa because they had helped ease his father’s final moments.

 Still, every time he thought this way, a mocking voice seemed to echo in the back of his mind:

[But why didn’t you remember that debt until you heard that Harriet Listerwell had gone to that convent?]

Exactly.

 He, too, had always wondered about that.

 Harriet Listerwell was just a coincidental middlewoman, wasn’t she?

Cedric tilted his head slightly, then let out a soft chuckle and pushed the thought away.

‘I was overwhelmed back then. It was all a coincidence—nothing to do with her. Definitely not.’

There was no time for pointless thoughts.

 The ones who had conspired with the enemy and led his father to his death were still out there, looking for a chance to bring down the duke’s family.

***

The tea room of the Laurel family was opened again for the first time in a while. Surrounded by flowers and decorated with the charm and elegance that suited Lady Laurel’s taste, the room embraced the feel of autumn.

On the now-trendy checkered tablecloth sat warm tea and freshly baked pastries, but the young ladies gathered around the table didn’t touch them. They were all too busy staring worriedly at Daphne.

“Daphne, are you sure you’re not sick?”

 This was already the third time someone had asked.

Daphne had always been pale, but now she looked nearly ghostly. Her collarbones and neck bones stood out sharply from how much weight she’d lost.

 Still, she only gave a faint smile and shook her head.

“Not at all. I did lose a bit of weight, but my appetite’s coming back lately. So really, don’t worry too much.”

Even so, she hadn’t touched the tea or pastries.

 But since she insisted she was fine, her friends couldn’t keep pushing her and instead forced a smile, changing the subject to recent trends.

They talked about what had happened since Daphne disappeared from society—who got engaged, who was the most popular lately, and which brands were all the rage.

“But no matter what, St. Clarissa Convent soap is the biggest trend right now. There’s not a single person with acne or blemishes who hasn’t bought it.”

 “I don’t even have skin problems, but I bought it just because everyone said it was so good. And it really is! The scent isn’t too strong, so even my dad uses it—secretly.”

The girls burst into laughter at the idea of a middle-aged man sneaking his daughter’s soap.

“I also bought their lavender mist. I don’t use it as a toner—I spray it on my pillow instead. It helps me fall asleep so well.”

 “Right? I tried that after Miss Harriet recommended it, and I’ve been sleeping great ever since.”

At that, Daphne—who had been silent until now—spoke up.

“Does it really help you sleep that well?”