QOL 11

Chapter 11

Something like a flexible stick briefly appeared beneath the tree branches before disappearing again.

Ethan approached behind her and asked,

“Do they keep it at the estate? But why does it seem so happy to see you?”

“Keep it? How could anyone keep a cat?”

Erin immediately shook her head. The duchess’s frequent illnesses were something anyone familiar with the family already knew.

“It just… drops by sometimes when it’s passing through.”

Standing close behind her as he looked up into the tree, Ethan lowered his gaze after a moment.

“If that’s the case, why not just go down and see it properly, Miss Cornue?”

“…Right now, well, we’re supposed to drink tea with the bread you brought.”

Erin answered a beat too late. Ethan stared at the back of her blond head as he continued,

“Are there no benches in the garden?”

“There is a table.”

“Then why bother drinking inside?”

“…”

Only then did she turn her head enough for him to see her face.

That expression—trying not to smile, trying as hard as possible to appear calm while clearly delighted.

Pretending not to notice, Ethan turned away and rubbed his chin.

“Hm. Suddenly I feel like seeing the garden. It’d be nice if you came down and showed me around. Could I ask that favor?”

The tea set the maids had prepared was carried back down to the first floor.

As Erin hurried down the stairs, Head Maid Delia quickly approached her. When asked what had happened, Erin merely lifted the corners of her lips slightly and shook her head.

“It’s nothing. The weather’s just nice.”

Delia’s gaze shifted to Ethan, who came down behind her while brushing a hand through his hair.

He only shrugged, looking as though he had no idea what she meant, which made the head maid narrow her eyes instinctively.

Meanwhile, Erin had already wandered off beneath the tree, craning her neck upward.

Inside the sprawling branches, too wide to take in at a glance, faint birdsong mixed with the rustling leaves.

And as for the cat—there was no need to ask. Erin’s crestfallen expression explained everything.

“…It already left. It’s been a while since I last saw it.”

After searching every visible corner, Erin frowned.

“I suppose it had somewhere else to be.”

“I guess so.”

“Does it come often?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

Surprisingly quick to give up, she walked ahead and sat at the prepared table.

The donuts had been neatly sliced on delicate floral-patterned plates.

Ethan examined the ivory parasol before sitting across from her.

Every tassel hanging from its edge was unbelievably intricate and immaculate. And sitting before him was Erin Cornue herself. It felt like stepping into a fairy tale.

Lifting the silver teapot, Erin poured tea into his cup. Ethan checked the color of the brew and tilted his head.

“It’s black tea.”

“Oh. It is.”

She picked up her own teacup and took a sip. Smooth, without bitterness, and at the perfect temperature.

“I said I drink coffee.”

“There are a lot of excellent tea leaves at the estate. I used to think about them sometimes even while staying at the ballet dormitory. This one’s among them.”

Leaning back in his chair, Ethan crossed his legs.

Watching the few open buttons of his shirt, Erin quietly drank another sip. She neither called a maid nor showed any sign of apology.

By now, Ethan understood she had no intention of accommodating him.

‘…Making a fuss over what someone drinks. How childish.’

Basically, she meant drink what you’re given. Did she seriously want to turn this into some kind of battle for control?

He didn’t particularly care, but if she wanted to play, he could indulge her.

Just then, Erin speared a donut with her fork and placed it in her mouth.

“Mmm.”

Dabbing sugar crystals from the corner of her lips with a napkin, she chewed thoughtfully, looking oddly intrigued by the taste.

Ethan let out an involuntary chuckle.

That wasn’t the kind of bread meant to be eaten so elegantly. He briefly remembered Jin stuffing them carelessly into his mouth with bare hands.

Ignoring his amused laughter, Erin spoke.

“Hundreds of years ago, it was our ancestor Brantea Cornue who first brought tea and spices to Lidos. Our family received its ducal title because of that.”

Judging by the atmosphere, Ethan had been about to fold his arms in open refusal, but at her sudden recitation of family history, he placed his hands back on his knees.

“I didn’t know that.”

Watching him, Erin used her fork to pick up another kind of donut.

“You lived in the Empire. I suppose it wouldn’t seem remarkable to you.”

At that moment, Ethan could vividly feel his hand wanting to move toward the teacup on its own.

Bringing up her ancestors was unfair.

He had never once possessed such a history in his life, nor expected to, but he had always wondered about things like that.

Though surely one cup of tea couldn’t make him feel anything so grand.

“Since it’s already poured, just drink it. I can give you the coffee you want next time, can’t I?”

In the end, Ethan picked up the cup. As the liquid slid down his throat, a faint floral fragrance lingered.

The wind blew, swaying the tassels, and when he looked up, the sky seemed unreal in its clarity.

“Where are you going? The carriage you came in is over there.”

As Erin glanced toward the carriage, Jin greeted her with a bright smile. Ethan waved a hand, redirecting her attention.

“No. Before I leave, I’d like to take a look at your clothes. Is your wardrobe attached to your bedroom?”

“…What?”

Erin stepped in front of him as he headed toward the stairs. The eyes of the head maid and servants darted back and forth.

“I want you to come to Second Street in two days. You should look around there too, shouldn’t you? That’s what I came to talk about today.”

Second Street. His department store, Lephite. It was something Erin herself had already been considering.

“Fine. Decide on a time and let me know. I’ll take care of it myself. Properly prepare and come.”

Still, meddling in every little thing was unacceptable. Erin lifted her chin toward him.

Ethan paused and exhaled briefly.

“Miss Cornue, I’m not joking around. You need a dramatic debut in every aspect. We need thorough preparation.”

“You worry about the strangest things. Whatever I do on my own will exceed your expectations anyway.”

“Really?”

“So relax and go.”

“…”

Frowning, Ethan fell silent. His lowered gaze swept past the staircase.

“It’s a waste of time. What would you even know from looking?”

“You may not realize it, but ninety percent of my customers are women. You can’t run a business without a decent eye.”

“That’s exactly my point. I doubt I own a single dress your customers would wear.”

At that, Ethan brushed past Erin and started up the stairs.

“Then I should look even more. Whether you have something suitable or not, I’ll know after seeing it myself.”

Erin grabbed his wrist. Climbing two steps higher than him, she looked down at him and suddenly grabbed his chin.

“Oh right, Mr. Fletcher. What exactly are you doing with this? Keeping it or shaving it? Every time I see it, it’s different. It’s unpleasant to look at.”

It wasn’t only his gaze that irritated her.

There were too many things to count on both hands, but the most annoying of all was this beard.

Walking around looking like this, and talking about fashion sense?

“You should worry about yourself. Instead of wasting time bothering about me.”

“…”

“And besides. Do I really have to explain that showing up without an appointment is rude?”

Back in her room, Erin changed out of her outdoor clothes.

Sitting on the sofa with a tired expression, she stopped Mrs. Delia just as the woman was about to leave.

“Mrs. Delia, have you ever been to a department store? The one on Second Street…”

The head maid quietly closed the door behind her and descended the stairs, replaying Erin’s question in her mind.

‘A department store… a department store.’

Lephite. While Erin had been away with the ballet company, Lephite’s status had changed dramatically from what it had first been.

From a tacky collection of mass-produced goods meant for women desperately trying to imitate high society, into an all-inclusive social space filled with every kind of product and convenience.

Now there was likely no one in the capital who didn’t know the name.

It was hard to believe such success had been achieved only three years after opening. The building had already become the landmark of Second Street.

Yet unbelievably, the attention Lephite received during construction had been completely different from now.

Criticism, opposition, baseless suspicion, unsolicited advice. At the time, opinions had been divided because no one had ever seen such a massive, modern building before.

People of every class and profession debated whether such a thing could even exist, while the structure rose steadily as if to prove them wrong.

One newspaper had even published measurements claiming the giant glass windows decorating the front were larger than five courthouse windows combined.

‘Hmm. That did happen.’

Truthfully, Delia’s first impression of Ethan Fletcher had been rather favorable.

No matter who came, they could never compare to a ducal family, but Ethan Fletcher at least seemed different from the vulgar nouveaux riches who obsessively chased money.

‘Though now… I’d have to add that his manners are completely unruly.’

Thinking this and that, Mrs. Delia entered the kitchen.

At once, the voices of the gathered maids abruptly stopped.

The atmosphere felt strangely tense.