Episode 4. Even If It’s Just Out of Duty
My chest still ached from the nightmare.
I pressed a hand against it and felt rough linen instead of my usual soft clothes.
“How long… was I out?”
My mind was clear, but the bandages around my head made it hard to turn.
My voice wasn’t hoarse, and my lips weren’t dry—it couldn’t have been that long.
“You were unconscious all night, my lady. It’s dawn now,” the doctor said.
I stretched out my hand, and the head maid quickly stepped forward and held it.
“We were so worried… You lost a lot of blood.”
Her usually neat hair was a mess, streaked with gray she normally hid so carefully.
That sight alone told me how serious the accident had been.
I gave her a small smile to say I’m fine. The tightness in my face made the smile feel strange.
“How is the Duke?” I asked, remembering the last image of Ryan with a glass in his leg.
As much as I disliked him, I hoped he wasn’t badly hurt.
“He suffered only a light wound in the thigh. Nothing serious.”
“Good… that’s a relief.”
I blinked my swollen eyes slowly, and the maid cooled my face with a damp towel.
The burning faded a little.
‘I want to see Jaive.’
The thought stabbed through me. I wanted to hold my baby, sing him a lullaby, and kiss him. But I couldn’t.
That hurt the most.
“The bleeding has stopped. I’ll prescribe a sedative—take this now, and the rest around noon,” the doctor instructed, wiping his hands.
The cloth came away stained red.
“You’ll feel dizzy for a couple of days. Please do absolutely nothing for at least two days.”
“I understand.”
While the maid prepared my medicine, I glanced at the window.
The night sky was fading into a soft blue dawn.
It didn’t take even a day for the slums to hear of the accident.
And with the news came whispers: the culprit was a barbarian.
Suddenly, people were gossiping about me again.
“She finally got what she deserved.”
“Should we be thanking the barbarians for this? Ha!”
At taverns, markets, dress shops, and inns—my name was on everyone’s tongue again.
So when one of Barnes Hilvardo’s men arrived in Stroud, the first thing he heard was that the duchess had been in a terrible carriage crash.
He shoved bread into his mouth, gathered every detail, and raced back to the capital with the report.
It took me three full days before I could even sit upright.
Every time my head was higher than my body, the ringing in my ears was unbearable.
But after sleeping almost nonstop, my body was stronger.
‘He hasn’t come. Not even once.’
I hadn’t expected much, but I thought he’d at least show his face. Ask if I was alright.
Even without love, wasn’t that the duty of a husband? At the very least, he could’ve brought paperwork to sign and asked how I was in passing.
But Ryan… of course not.
How could I expect anything from him?
“My lady, Baron Christie asks to see you,” the head maid announced wearily.
She looked thinner from staying at my side for days.
“Let him in.”
The baron entered, but to my surprise, he wasn’t alone.
A stranger followed him.
“The Duke insisted you be introduced,” the baron explained.
Both the maid and I turned our attention to the man.
“Good day, my lady. It’s an honor to meet you.”
He had a slim, delicate build, hair unevenly cut but combed into some order, and an oddly pretty face.
Too pretty for a man—it could easily invite misunderstanding.
“From today, I’ll be serving the Duke as his personal attendant.”
I set down the book in my lap. I needed a moment to process this.
The baron quickly handed me a contract, stamped with Ryan’s seal. A signed employment contract.
So he had time to hire a new servant—but no time to look in on his injured wife.
Bitterness rose in me again.
“What’s your name?”
“Morant, my lady.”
My bandaged hand flipped through his references.
A line mentioned he worked hard to support his sick sister. I looked up at his youthful face.
He was almost too pretty. Sixteen years old, and not a trace of stubble.
My stare made him fidget and lower his head. I turned back to the paper.
“You can read?”
“I can’t read the old imperial script, but I can read and write modern language just fine.”
“I see.”
So Ryan had chosen someone literate.
That meant he’d be used for more than clothes and baths—paperwork, letters, maybe more.
And of course, Ryan hadn’t consulted me. Just dumped him in the mansion.
‘…It’s not the boy’s fault.’
Ryan broke protocol, not him. And with the Duke’s seal already on the contract, I couldn’t refuse even if I wanted to.
So I forced myself to smile kindly.
“Morant, the Duke is very strict and particular. Do your best not to make mistakes.”
“Yes, my lady! I will!”
He bowed eagerly, his short black hair falling back to reveal a pale neck. For some reason, unease pricked me.
Sola’s first impression of the infamous “evil duchess” was… underwhelming.
‘She’s not as scary as I thought.’
The room smelled of medicine, and the duchess looked frail, like she’d fall over if touched.
Bandages mostly hid her platinum hair, but her golden eyes were striking—otherworldly, like a proper novel character should be.
‘Still… I’m the real heroine here.’
Leaving the duchess’s sickroom, Sola checked herself in a hallway mirror.
With a nice dress and long hair, she was sure she could look just as beautiful.
“This way. Fix your clothes before we go in,” Baron Christie told her.
Sola brushed off her shirt, smoothed her messy hair, and tried to calm her racing heart.
“Don’t be nervous,” the baron said, patting her shoulder.
His casual kindness made her cheeks burn—after all, even minor characters in this world were handsome.
The office door creaked open, and there he was.
The Duke of Stroud.
Golden hair so bright it seemed painted in molten sunlight.
Sharp posture, broad shoulders, and icy blue eyes like frozen lakes.
He looked even more vivid, more handsome than any description in the novel.
Even the harsh smell of cigar smoke seemed like part of his charm.
Sola nearly cried just thinking: I’ll be loved by this man for the rest of my life.
“You’ve come,” Ryan said in that deep, cold voice.
Sola thought, Of course, the male lead even has the perfect voice.
She stepped forward with a trembling hand pressed to her chest.
“M-my name is M-Morant, my lord. It’s an honor.”
She managed to get the practiced line out.
Ryan’s reaction, however, was indifferent.
“Give him a room. He can rest today.”
“Yes, my lord,” the baron answered.
Ryan flicked his hand in dismissal. Sola stared, stunned that the meeting ended so quickly.
But she reassured herself. It doesn’t matter. The story has already begun.
From the moment he saved her in the dark alley, the novel had started rolling.
She only had to wait until he inevitably fell in love with her.
Of course, she wouldn’t just wait. She planned to use her knowledge of the story to speed things up.
She imagined the day he’d turn from his cold duchess and give all his love to her instead.
A thrill ran through her body.
