WDHMTU | CHAPTER 25

Chapter 25

Claudio was always a light eater.

Back when she was Lady Emelide, the countess’s daughter, she had kept food at a distance to maintain her slender figure.

She had taken to eating little and enjoying each bite since coming here, where supplies were limited.

But Claudio was different. 

He would naturally eat more given his size, but to think he could consume all this meat…

“You ate all that?” she asked, staring at the empty dishes in disbelief.

“I could eat more if I wanted.”

“……”

Shock washed over Marsha’s face.

“What, are you upset it’s gone?” he teased.

“No, not at all.”

Being able to eat well meant he was recovering, and the nutrients he was taking in now would help him regain his health faster.

Yet still, Marsha’s shock was unmistakable.

“It’s just… it feels like watching a flying horse or a skinny pig.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Claudio furrowed his brows, then slyly lifted one corner of his mouth.

“I mean, it’s like seeing something impossible.”

No matter how big he was, his stomach couldn’t possibly be made of stone—how did he manage to fit it all in?

“It’s truly amazing.”

Marsha stood, holding her empty plate, genuinely impressed. 

Claudio tilted his head in confusion.

‘What does she think of me, I wonder?’

When changing his bandages, she blushed, but when trimming herbs, she looked at his face so closely he thought she might notice—yet she showed no sign of it.

‘Even though I keep staring at her, if she glanced my way, our eyes would meet for sure.’

But that rarely happened. 

And even if it did, Marsha’s expression was one of indifference.

‘Right now, all she’s doing is marvelling at how much I eat.’

Just a little disinterest.

Now she’s calling me a flying horse or a starving pig?

He’d been compared to a “divine masterpiece” before… But this? This was my first.

“…Do you have some kind of vision problem?”

“Pretty good. Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“Just wondering.”

Marsha turned to look at Claudio, a hint of irritation in her eyes—as if to say, Why ask that?

‘So her eyesight isn’t bad, but she still says things like that…’

Maybe she just saw things differently from others.

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

“Again? What is it now?”

“What do you think my face looks like?”

The sound of a heavy dish plunging into a water-filled basin splashed loudly.

“What did you say?”

“I asked what you think my face looks like.”

Claudio rubbed his cheek, repeating his question. 

Marsha hadn’t misheard; she simply couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

“I know you’ve asked something similar before. You are so clean that you don’t even appear to have been sick. You have no scars or marks from either time. To be honest, you seem to be in good health.

People frequently look messy when they are ill because they are unable to wash their clothes properly. 

But Claudio was different. 

While unconscious, Marsha carefully wiped him down with a damp cloth, and once he regained consciousness, he kept himself clean by lightly washing whenever water was brought to him.

Still, that smooth, polished look wasn’t just from washing—he hadn’t been properly bathed, after all. 

So his neat appearance was like a gemstone that, despite a thin layer of dust, still managed to shine without losing its brilliance.

“I wasn’t asking about that,” Claudio muttered.

He had never lived intoxicated by his looks. 

He simply knew he was handsome—after all, the admiring gazes, words, and touches from those around him were unmistakable. 

Yet look at his indifferent answer and expression—how could someone be so nonchalant?

‘This woman’s way of seeing things is worlds apart from others.’

If she were like other women, she would have pestered Claudio relentlessly.

Even if she pretended not to care, she’d be unable to stop stealing glances his way.

And yet she didn’t. 

How fortunate that was, and yet…

‘Why do I feel so unsettled?’

Thanks to her, there was no annoyance, no irritation—and still, why did he feel this way?

At that moment, Marsha placed her hands on her hips and nodded slightly, as if no other answer was necessary.

“… Thanks for answering,” Claudio said reluctantly.

Without hesitation, she turned her back to him.

The small room was filled with the clinking sound of dishes being cleaned.

‘If you look closely, her movements are incredibly careful.’

Even when she acted like an angry cat, she was always so precise in her movements.

She never stomped, slouched, or flailed her arms, not even in her rage. 

“Even the way she does the dishes—it’s quiet and delicate, as if she’s sewing rather than washing.”

This wasn’t something innate.

It was proof of long years of training.

Had she worked as a maid in a noble household?

No, if that were the case, she’d probably only seem careful, not truly graceful.

“At least she must come from a well-established merchant family…”

Marsha was definitely from the Duchy of Domique, probably from the western region.

Just judging by her speech, she wasn’t much different from the people there.

“If it’s the western border region, then there’s the domain of Emelide and the Marquisate of Viscounts…”

He’d have to investigate—see if any noble young ladies had recently fled from that area.

Marsha was like a shy cat; she would never tell the truth, even if someone asked her directly. 

She would most likely run away without hesitation if Claudio gave her the least indication that he had suspicions.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Marsha propped her chin on her hand and asked Claudio, who was staring intently at her after she finished the dishes.

“I just wish I could do it for you,” he replied. In other words, he looked at her out of sympathy.

“Well, if you didn’t appreciate it, I’d be annoyed, but you don’t need to worry too much. I find it easier to do things myself than to leave them to you.”

Lately, Marsha felt she understood a bit of what her grandmother must have felt.

Back then, she was less useful than a newborn foal—breaking dishes often because she couldn’t even do the washing properly.

“Do you think I wouldn’t be able to do it?”

Claudio frowned as he asked.

“You’re a knight, right?”

“Hmm… maybe I am.”

That familiar air of playing dumb again.

Marsha clenched her fist.

“…Anyway, someone serving the dukedom wouldn’t have done the dishes, right?”

Marsha assumed knights wouldn’t have done trivial household chores. 

But the knights of the Gloria Dukedom were different—not flashy nobles who only cared about their status. 

They endured harsh training to be ready to seize victory whenever war broke out.

That meant camping in rough mountains, eating outdoors, and often washing their dishes.

But Claudio wasn’t one of those knights.

Of course, he had never done such chores.

“Still, I bet you’d do fine if asked. You did a good job prepping the herbs.”

“……”

Marsha rolled her eyes. 

Claudio was better now than he was when he first arrived at this house. 

Her grandmother would have likely remarked, “Well, at least this one earns his keep—unlike someone else,” if she were still living. Just to put Marsha in her place.

Marsha dried her wet hands on a rag and said, “If you say so, no need to stop you. When you’re well enough, we can take turns doing it.”

“Well, I’m honoured that you have faith in me,” Claudio said.

Claudio’s eyes narrowed as he laughed, leaving Marsha utterly puzzled.

“I just don’t get why he insists on doing all this,” she thought.

Maybe it was a sense of responsibility—since he’d caused trouble, he felt he had to at least help a little.

“His words and actions feel light, yet heavy at the same time…”

A truly puzzling man.

“And there’s something else I want to ask.”

“Again? What now?”

“Where do you sleep?”

Claudio had just left the room for the first time today, and what he saw shocked him.

This cramped space, barely fitting the three of them, served as kitchen and sitting room.

There was a tiny bathroom, a storage closet, and only one actual room.

“I sleep here,” Marsha said, pointing to an old sofa near the entrance.

Claudio rubbed his forehead, not surprised.

That was the only place remotely suitable for sleeping.

“From now on, you’ll sleep in the room.”

“And where will you sleep?”

“I’ll take the sofa.”

“You’ll probably stick your legs out,” Marsha teased. “Besides, like I said before—you’re still the patient.”

Claudio frowned in displeasure.

As much as he wanted to stay here, he hadn’t intended for Masha to give up her room for him.

“It bothers me more knowing you’re sleeping in an uncomfortable place,” he muttered. “And when something bothers me, I don’t heal well. Isn’t that how it works?”

Marsha blinked.

Was this some kind of knightly pride, refusing to let a woman sleep in hardship? 

Or maybe he just didn’t want to inconvenience the person who saved him.

“Even if I’m in the room, I’ll still be coming out often to tend to the kitchen and sitting area. For the sake of respecting each other’s privacy, this arrangement works best. And while it may seem uncomfortable to you, this old sofa is very comfortable to me.”

When she lived with her grandmother, Marsha always stayed on the sofa.

It had been uncomfortable at first, but now she found comfort in its worn cushions.

“It’s even softer than the bed in the room.”

“That sagging sofa?”

“Yes. So many times I’ve slept here, even when you weren’t around. So really, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Marsha thought that after saying all this, Claudio would finally agree.

But his face still showed displeasure.

“He’s stubborn about the strangest things,” she mused.

Whatever Claudio thought, Marsha had no intention of backing down.

 After all, the patient’s recovery came first.