MLBR 52

After hearing about Heraith, I decided to appoint Clara as my assistant too.
I didn’t tell her everything, of course—but accompanying me was allowed, like now.

“When you headed into that suspicious-looking forest last time, I really thought you’d gone to try that book for real!
I can’t believe it was to meet the Duke instead!”

That book—she meant the one filled with weird magic circles. The one that hadn’t been the slightest bit useful for writing my scenario.

“We’ve arrived.”

I smoothed the wrinkles of the worn dress I’d put on as a disguise and stepped out.

“Go grab a drink with that chauffeur you met earlier. Meeting Heraith might take a few hours.”

Since I’d promised to count this outing as overtime pay, I slipped Clara some gold. Her cheerful “Good luck with your proposal!” gave me strength.

I reached the mansion Heraith had told me about, but couldn’t go in right away.
I swallowed hard several times, reciting the confession I’d prepared over and over—aloud and silently.

“Heraith, like I said before—you’re something essential in my life.”

Not exactly the best kind of rehearsal for a confession.
For a perfect delivery, I needed to focus on the flow, not obsess over every word.
That was what helped reduce failure and recover even if I stumbled.

But I was nervous.

More nervous than ever before, to the point where knowing what to do didn’t help me at all.

It was my third discussion—my last chance.
Even after all my preparations and countless rehearsals, my mouth went dry.

Just then, a shadow fell over me, and a hand slid gently over my shoulder, wrapping around the back of my hand.
The hand overlapping mine knocked on the door twice.

“I want to go in. What about you, my girlfriend? Planning to just stand here?”

Heraith, dressed like a commoner, tilted his head with a playful bow.

“Don’t you know how to knock? Did I draw you the map too poorly?”

He teased with his usual sly tone, but then pulled his hat low and spoke in a lower, weightier voice.

“Or is it that you didn’t want to see me?”

“No, that’s not it!”

To be misunderstood before even confessing—what a terrible start. I shouted firmly.

“So it’s not, just like Philena said.”

As if nothing had happened, Heraith’s mischievous smile returned.
He stared at me nodding earnestly, then took an apple from the basket and tossed it to me.

“Want an apple, Philena? Ah, not a morning apple though.”

How did he know I tried to eat apples only in the morning…?

“How? Because it’s you, of course.”

Clink.
The sound of keys jingled as Heraith took my hand again, slipped a key between my fingers, and together we unlocked the door.

Creak.
Beyond the widening doorway, a cozy nest came into view.
He nudged me forward lightly with his knee, gesturing for me to go first.

It was about to begin.

The third and final discussion.

“Sit,” Heraith said with a grin, jerking his chin toward the sofa.
As always, he didn’t sit right beside me—instead, he wandered lazily toward the kitchen beyond the living room.

“So, you want the apple now or later? If not now, I’ll just keep it.”

“I’ll have it later. It’s true I usually eat apples in the morning, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have one now.”

“Is it because I gave it to you?”

Heraith grinned, baring his upper teeth, then changed the topic before I could answer.

“Lemon tea or Earl Grey?”

“Lemon tea, please.”

“Since it’s for Philena, I’ll make it with extra affection.”

“Please do add that.”

There was, of course, no gas stove like in a noble mansion.
But Heraith, unfazed, hung a small pot over the hearth fire.

Something about how naturally he moved around this place—the village, this house—felt strangely familiar, as if he belonged.
I asked calmly,

“Heraith, have you lived in this village before?”

At that, the faintly bobbing shoulders of Heraith stilled.

“Wow.”

He let out a small exclamation and gave a light clap.

“How’d you figure that out?”

Our voices were soon drowned out by the sound of boiling water.
Heraith turned his head slightly and began tidying up around him, careful not to come too close.

“I did. A long, long time ago.”

“How long ago?”

“Hm… like in a fairy tale—‘once upon a time’ long ago?”

With a playful squint, Heraith chuckled and then spoke again a beat later.

“When I was a kid. The orphanage I lived in before I was adopted was here.”

Heraith’s childhood—his little-kid years.
It was the first I’d ever heard of them, and my ears perked up.

“Ah, then this mansion—did you buy it back then to visit the orphanage, or did you get it recently?”

“Was my girlfriend always this sharp?”

“I just want to know more about you, Heraith.”

“I see. With that kind of curiosity, I guess it makes sense—you’ve grown all saintly and open-minded.”

He leaned his crossed arms on the counter and shook his head with a laugh.

“I got it back then. Well, to be precise, my parents got it for me.
They said since the orphanage was my first home, I could come by whenever I wanted.”

He raised an eyebrow, then waved reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. There’s little chance of getting caught.
I visited when I was young, but later, I forgot this place even existed.
When I became an adult, my parents told me to get rid of it if it wasn’t needed.
I was going to, but instead I just changed the ownership name. So they think I did.”

Why had he built a new hideout in the forest?
Why had he stopped coming here as he grew older?
And why, as an adult, had he decided not to dispose of it after all?

Heraith said he’d been renting the title to someone else in exchange for money.
He claimed the person didn’t know who he really was—and that the arrangement had gone on unnoticed for years.

The smoothness of his explanation was unsettling.
But as always, I chose to believe it could make sense.
Growing pains, after all, were part of life’s flow.

“Remember what happened last time? I’m being extra careful now—really cautious.
So, how about you relax a bit, huh?”

Heraith joked that way, saying it would ease my guilt.
And that was natural enough that I nodded.

But I didn’t want the conversation to end there.
He rarely talked about himself, so I pressed on.

“At the orphanage… who did you have the closest bond with?”

“…Friends? Not really.
They say childhood friends are precious, but maybe because I grew up thinking I was special, I didn’t feel like I needed any.
So, no one in particular.”

He rubbed his chin as he answered, and somehow I felt disappointed.
If there had been such a friend, I could’ve tracked them down to ask about Heraith’s past.

“What about the orphanage director? Were they a good person?”

“Philena, you really are curious about everything, huh? So passionate.”

“I just think it’s important to know whether your guardian was a decent person or not.”

“Maybe because you are a decent person yourself.
Not quite like you, but… yeah, they were good.”

Despite the tone suggesting he had more to say, his lips closed loosely.
Then he turned his back fully toward me.

“Just wait a bit.”

The clinking of dishes filled the quiet room.

Then suddenly, I snapped back to myself.
The ring—where was it?
It should’ve been in my hand, but it wasn’t!
So where could it be?

Judging by the situation, it must be in my handbag.