WDHMTU|CHAPTER 57

Chapter 57

 

Marsha blinked at him blankly.

 

“…Didn’t you say you were busy?”

 

“I am. But if I just left, you wouldn’t eat.”

 

“No, that’s not—”

 

She shook her head quickly.

 

“I’ll take care of it myself. You should go see your work.”

 

“I can’t do that. The moment I leave, you’ll just push the food around and stop.”

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. 

 

How does he know?

 

When she flinched, Claudio gave a quiet sigh.

 

“Sleeping all day, that I can allow. You have nothing required of you yet. But starving yourself while you sleep—I won’t permit that. If you grow any thinner, what then?”

 

Marsha pursed her lips. 

 

“I don’t even know what task you’re trying to fatten me up for.”

 

She eyed him suspiciously.

 

“So, why don’t you tell me now? What exactly am I supposed to do?”

 

Claudio only shrugged lazily.

 

“You’ll hear when we reach the capital. It’s nothing beyond your ability, so you needn’t worry.”

 

“….”

 

Still narrowing her gaze at him, Marsha looked unconvinced.

 

Claudio gave a sudden, faint laugh.

 

“Yes, yes—I know I’m handsome. But wouldn’t it be better to look at your food instead?”

 

“Wh-who said I was staring because you’re handsome?!” Marsha sputtered, her cheeks flaring pink. “It’s just—you were acting so suspicious, that’s why I was watching you!”

 

Snatching up her spoon in embarrassment, she began to scoop the food almost aggressively. 

 

Claudio’s lips curved faintly as he watched her fluster.

 

So earnest…

 

She lifted a spoonful of soup, took a large mouthful—and her eyes lit up instantly.

 

“What is it?” he asked.

 

“It’s delicious!” she said, almost glowing.

 

It was Dominique-style mushroom cream soup, the kind she hadn’t tasted in so long. 

 

And not just any attempt—this was expertly made.

 

“Is the head chef from the Dominion of Dominique?”

 

“…Hm.” Claudio had never asked his chef’s origins, but after a moment, he nodded.

“Yes. From Dominique. How did you know?”

 

“Because the soup is prepared in their style,” she replied simply.

 

Is that so?

 

He had eaten this dish many times at the villa but never thought of it as foreign—just cream soup. 

 

Anyone unfamiliar with Dominique cuisine would assume the same.

 

But Marsha recognized the difference instantly. 

 

Which meant—

 

So, she really is from Dominique.

 

It was hardly shocking. 

 

He had already suspected as much. 

 

That was why, when he instructed Urian to investigate the incident four years ago, he had ordered him to look particularly into the Viscounty of Shovid and the County of Emelide’s …

 

Wait.

 

Claudio froze, memories rushing back. 

 

That incident had also happened about four years ago.

 

Urian said…

 

That Count Emelide had been killed. 

 

Their territories bordered closely, though the two houses were not particularly friendly. 

 

Claudio had murmured a perfunctory “Ah, how unfortunate,” without much thought.

 

At the time, Urian had added:

[He left only one daughter, unmarried. A cousin’s son will inherit. But that man has been seen dealing with Miles in the West.]

 

Urian had clearly disapproved, uneasy at the notion of a Western-aligned noble succeeding.

 

Claudio, however, had dismissed it.

 

[So what? The Emelides may be wealthy, but they’re hardly threatening. They have no trained knights. Even if such a house lends its strength to the West, what difference would it make?]

 

What had concerned him more was this:

[But with the Emelide’s lands in turmoil, smugglers may slip across more easily. We should strengthen border patrols. The next inspection will be at the Tora Forest.]

 

The fate of some orphaned count’s daughter had been none of his concern. 

 

His only duty was the safety of his own domain.

 

And indeed, months later, he had captured and dealt with two men suspected of illegal smuggling in Tora Forest.

 

And then… that woman, Berri, said something odd.

 

It was just yesterday morning, while Marsha still slept.

 

[Um, e-excuse me, but… where is Marsha?]

 

Timid little Berri had appeared at the door, looking like a frightened puppy.

 

[She’s still sleeping.]

 

Ah, I see. Th-then… what to do? I came for the house key…

 

“She’s only just gone to bed. Waking her now wouldn’t be wise. I’ll fetch it for you.”

 

Berri had fidgeted nervously as Claudio stepped inside to retrieve the key. 

 

When he returned, she had stretched out her hand, certain he carried it.

 

Placing it in her palm, Claudio had asked quietly:

Tell me, how did Marsha come to this forest?

 

Wh-what?

 

“You can be honest. I know more about her than you might think.”

 

His tone had carried both refinement and cold command.

 

Berri had shrunk back, clutching the key.

 

“Wh-what do you know?”

 

“That she’s an illegal foreigner. And that she’s searching for someone.”

 

“O-oh… so you know almost as much as I do, then…”

 

She had answered gloomily.

 

“You must know who she’s looking for?”

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

Her face had grown even sadder.

 

That had surprised Claudio. 

 

He had assumed Marsha’s closest friend would know more than he did.

 

Then, after some hesitation, Berry had spoken again, fingers twisting anxiously.

 

“M-Marsha came here four years ago. Well… more accurately, she was brought here.”

 

Claudio’s brows had drawn sharply together.

 

“What?”

 

“I mean…”

 

And she had told him about that day: the gunfire, the shattered wagon, and inside it, the battered figure of a noble girl.

 

“She was in terrible shape. Malnourished, covered in injuries… The fact that she survived—it was nothing short of a miracle.”

 

Claudio had been silent, crimson eyes flickering with shock.

 

But Berry had gathered her courage to continue:

“I didn’t tell you this because you asked.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Because Marsha has suffered so much. Since the moment I met her, she’s struggled just to live. If she follows you now, it isn’t for her own comfort or safety…”

 

It was not wealth or luxury she sought. 

 

She followed for the sake of that shadowed memory that clouded her every smile.

 

“So please… don’t treat her harshly. If you could be a little kind to her, it would be even better…”

 

It was a contract, yes. 

 

They were bound for a year only by mutual need. 

 

But Berry’s pleading gaze had not wavered.

 

“After all… she saved your life, didn’t she?”

 

For only a heartbeat or two she had held Claudio’s gaze, trembling, before stammering:

“Th-then please tell Marsha I came by! I’ll return this afternoon!”

 

And she had fled as if chased.

 

At the time, Claudio had only thought of Marsha, her face flashing in his mind.

 

And now… it all connects.

 

Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps the count’s daughter lost four years ago was someone else. 

 

Perhaps, unlike Marsha, she still lived comfortably in Dominique.

 

But…

 

He wanted to know. 

 

His crimson eyes, unsettled, slid to Marsha across the table.

 

She was sipping soup with such joy, as though meeting an old friend.

 

Claudio pressed his lips shut. 

 

The words caught in his throat.

 

No. 

 

There’s no need to ask her now.

 

Even if the truth came out, what would it change? 

 

Worse, it would erase that fleeting smile from her face.

 

For now… let it be.

 

***

 

The bright sky had darkened into night.

 

“Ugh, this is ridiculous. I’ve been standing in line all day!”

 

Wilford stamped his feet impatiently, praying for his turn to come.

 

I just need to ask. 

 

Close my eyes, act the grieving fiancé, and mention what happened four years ago. 

 

Then everything will be solved.

 

He pictured himself winning answers, his lips trembling with both resolve and fear.

 

Just then, a knight’s voice thundered through the courtyard:

“The audiences are over!”

 

The waiting merchants cried out in alarm.

 

“C-can we return tomorrow?” one stammered.

 

Wilford clenched his teeth.

 

Tomorrow? Another line like this? Impossible!

 

If you’re going to dismiss us, at least give us numbers for next time!

 

But the knight continued:

“No. His Grace departs for the capital at dawn.”

 

Gasps and groans echoed everywhere.

 

“What?!” Wilford’s face went pale.

 

The knight’s voice rang again:

“His Grace, moved by your patience, has bestowed a sum as reward for your trouble. It is more than sufficient for today’s hardships—accept it with gratitude.”

 

“Thank you, Your Grace!”

 

Merchants cheered, relief flooding their faces.

 

But not Wilford.

 

No, no, no. 

 

This was my only chance. 

 

If he leaves for the capital, Lucas will never wait for me again!

 

Desperation seized him. 

 

Then—his eyes lit on the narrow gap between two buildings.

 

Just wide enough for a single man to squeeze through. 

 

And with the night’s shadows cloaking him, it was perfect.

 

Glancing around at the commotion, Wilford slipped quickly into the dark passageway.