Episode 30:
A long silence filled the space between us. In the end, I was the first to speak.
“Did you wear those fancy accessories to hide the bruises?”
I wanted to comfort her, but I ended up sounding like I was questioning her.
“I’ve always liked flashy things,” Yvonne said as she touched her sleeve, then gently patted the back of my hand. She should worry more about herself.
“I know what you’re worried about. But the Count never hits me…”
He just cheats and flirts with the maids. If he ever raised his hand to her, she would have run away or demanded a divorce, cursing both him and Carla.
I tried not to sound like I was defending the Count, but maybe it still sounded that way to Yvonne.
“My husband wasn’t a violent man at first either,” she said with a sad look. I didn’t want to hear about someone else’s painful past, but since we were already involved, I nodded and listened.
“He started hitting me after he lost big in a game. I’m actually really good at gambling. But that pig said I stole all his luck.”
Yvonne drank more wine. Even when I tried to stop her, she kept filling her glass. The flower scent was overwhelming.
“But it’s okay now. All his wealth belongs to me. I even got his title and house through gambling. But everyone thinks he gave it to me out of love. Funny, right? Only His Majesty knows the truth.”
She said nobles started copying them—fighting with their wives, then losing on purpose in a game and giving gifts as a peace offering.
Then she told me in detail how she beat her husband in a serious match for the title and wealth, laughing that even the king was there as a witness.
“Do you know what I did first after winning everything? I kicked him out. People said I was crazy, that I loved money too much. Honestly, being insulted felt easier. Now I just need to take the child custody…”
“That ‘favor’ you mentioned to me…”
“Yes. My husband will definitely go to the casino.”
Her hand trembled. Wine spilled over the edge of her glass. Was it fear? Or anger?
“Why are you trying to help me? You could’ve ignored me.”
“…Oh Great One,” Yvonne whispered weakly.
“Every time he hit me, I wished someone would help. That’s why… your sad-looking face kept bothering me.”
I couldn’t breathe. Yvonne was crying. Her makeup was smeared with tears. I wondered what Carla would think if she saw this.
Would she feel hurt, or would she quietly comfort her? I had no idea.
“And the Count… didn’t hesitate to insult you. Men like that usually hit their wives. And you don’t go to parties much, so I figured no one would reach out to you.”
“You’re right. Thank you.”
I held her hand and gently patted it. She stopped crying and looked at me.
“I’m glad I was wrong about you. Really.”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but even with her messy makeup, she still looked stunning.
I felt heavy-hearted. Knowing too much about someone else’s life felt like punishment. Yvonne swayed and collapsed onto the table. I turned to Theodore, who stood silently behind her.
“Can you call a maid? The Baroness needs someone to take care of her.”
“Yes,” he said and left quickly. I leaned toward Yvonne and asked quietly.
“Can I ask one more thing?”
“Of course.”
Her speech was slurred, but she looked at me and nodded.
“Do you know what the Count took from you?”
She answered without hesitation.
“He took one of my maids.”
“A maid?”
So it was true. Liza used to work for the Baroness. He must’ve really been crazy about her to steal someone else’s personal maid. I laughed inside.
“I guess losing your personal maid was really inconvenient.”
“What do you mean?”
Yvonne mumbled while lying on the table.
“The maid he took… was a cleaner.”
*
Theodore came back quickly with a maid. I told her to say Yvonne drank too much and quickly left the room.
I staggered down the stairs, not sure if it was the story or the wine that made me dizzy. I started putting the pieces together in my head.
The Count took Liza a year ago, and the Baroness took his title after that. Her bruises aren’t all gone yet, so they must’ve split not long ago…
That meant the Baroness had been beaten for a very long time. It was horrible.
I had read stories about domestic violence in newspapers, but I never thought I’d see it for myself.
“Ah!”
I missed a step, but Theodore caught me before I fell, holding me around the waist.
“Are you alright?”
“Y-yes.”
Even after I stood up straight, he didn’t let go. His arms were thick and strong.
He’s more fit than he looks…
Maybe the alcohol was making me think weird things.
No, this isn’t the time to think like that!
I shook my head quickly—and suddenly, I felt like I was floating.
“Magic…?”
But it wasn’t magic. Theodore had picked me up. His neck was red, and he carried me down the stairs confidently.
Because of that, I could stare at his beautiful face. If he had stood next to me instead of behind, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop staring.
He’s really handsome…
His face was so perfect, it made me forget everything I just heard. I could even see how long his eyelashes were.
I should ask him if I can balance a matchstick on them later.
I was staring like an idiot when he asked,
“Lady Carla, are you alright?”
“Huh? What?”
He must’ve said something, but I didn’t hear it clearly. He kindly repeated himself.
“Can you get into the carriage?”
“I think so?”
I nodded, but my head wobbled.
“With all due respect, you seem very drunk.”
“I only had one glass of wine and one of whiskey.”
“That’s not much.”
I saw the carriage approaching. Theodore still didn’t put me down. His arms were warm, and honestly, I didn’t want to get down yet.
“Where’s Bell?”
“She went ahead to wait in the carriage.”
“Then please put me down. I can get in by myself.”
But he didn’t move. Even when the carriage stopped and the driver opened the door, he held me tightly.
“Madam! Are you okay?”
Bell rushed out in a panic. She always stayed calm, so her shocked face looked extra cute.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“Oh no, you’re drunk.”
She’s been spending too much time with Liza and getting all dramatic.
“No, I’m not! I’m completely fine!”
“But your face is all red!”
Bell started arguing. I ignored her and looked at Theodore’s shoulder.
He carried me into the carriage without shaking at all. He even put me down gently on the seat.
Impressive…
While I clapped inside, Theodore kneeled on one knee.
“Even if the situation required it, I’m sorry for touching you without permission.”
“It’s okay. Really. It was fun.”
Finally, he got up and sat down. Bell also climbed in and removed my heavy accessories.
The carriage moved slowly. The view outside the window looked blurry. I couldn’t tell if it was night or if I was just drunk. My head kept swaying.
I don’t feel good…
The flower-scented wine was rising in my throat. I felt nauseous. If Bell hadn’t patted my back, I might’ve thrown up right there.
“Madam, we’ll be there soon. Just hang on.”
She pointed outside. But the view looked twisted, like a road to hell.
Finally, the carriage stopped, and things looked normal again. Theodore got off first and helped me down.
“Are you okay, Lady Carla?”
He kept asking if I was okay, and it made me laugh.
“Haha, yes, I’m fine…”
The ground was bumpy, and I almost tripped a few times, but each time, Theodore carefully supported me.
I thought only the butler would be waiting, but Liza was there too, looking nervous.
“Madam, the Count is waiting for you.”
I tried to think of a reason why he’d wait for me, but nothing came to mind. I was still dizzy and just wanted to lie on my bed with some cold water.
I was about to send Liza away with a message when—
“You’re late.”
The Count was already coming down the stairs. His short legs moved fast, and his ugly face looked even worse than usual.
He looked like a smashed potato. Or broken dough. Or clay dropped on the floor. I felt sick again.
“A woman like the Baroness is nothing but trouble.”
He started complaining as soon as he saw me.
“Baroness Yvonne has a proper noble title.”
“Hah, one she won in a card game?”
He came closer, face full of judgment, and ranted about how low-class the Baroness was.
His breath smelled like strong spices—probably from dinner—and it made my stomach twist.
“You see, a woman should always be—”
“Urgh…”
So it wasn’t really my fault that I threw up. Probably.
