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~Chapter 12~
Shariette recalled the brief information Noxian had told her on the way.
The gentle blonde, blue-eyed woman in front of her was the Duchess, Marianne Rubellot.
The black-haired woman, like Noxian, was his sister, Nixia Rubellot.
Shariette looked back and forth between the Duchess and her children, who were as different as rosewood and lilies.
She could already imagine what the Duke looked like without ever meeting him.
‘As expected of Rubellot, even the genes are vicious.’
And the one who seemed to be the total embodiment of those vicious genes was the person with the most relaxed expression here.
“I’m back. This is Miss Shariette Berdette, the pharmacist I mentioned in the letter earlier,” Noxian said with a perfect smile, pulling Shariette forward.
“I managed to hire her as my personal physician with great difficulty, so please treat her well.”
The beautiful mother and daughter exchanged suspicious looks.
It was understandable — the message they had received three days ago had contained only one line:
I have found a new physician.
— From Willow Hill.
‘I was sure he had kidnapped her.’
But from the way he was emphasizing every word and showing respect, the son or brother really did act as though he had “brought” her here willingly.
Marianne spoke first.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Berdette. My son owes you a great debt. Was your trip here uncomfortable?”
— If you were dragged here, give me a signal.
“Hello, Madam. It was the most comfortable carriage I’ve ever ridden in.”
— Your carriage seats are really nice.
The answer was unexpected, but the considerate Duchess didn’t show it and glanced at her daughter.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Nixia Rubellot. If Noxian ever bothers you, tell me, and I’ll scold him.”
Nixia stepped forward with a light smile.
She was the spitting image of her younger brother, especially with those red eyes and alluring air.
“I’m Shariette Berdette. Thank you.”
Shariette answered calmly, but she almost bit her tongue.
This was the woman Blanche had cursed and wanted to kill countless times!
Of course, she had failed every time.
Whenever Blanche returned from a banquet or social gathering, more than half the time she would be raging:
‘Ugh! That damn Nixia! Always ruining everything! Shasha! Where are you, Shasha!’
And Shariette had taken the brunt of that fury.
She had wondered what kind of person could keep making Blanche look like a fool — and now she was meeting her.
‘But… why is she poisoned even now?’
Nixia looked perfectly healthy on the surface.
But in the ten years Shariette had lived at the Argen Marquisate, she had handled countless medicines and poisons.
She could tell different poisons apart even with her eyes closed.
‘Especially this smell. I can’t mistake it.’
When Nixia came closer, she could clearly detect it.
It was a faint scent that only appeared when mixed with water — most people wouldn’t notice it.
Easily mistaken for perfume commonly used by nobles, but Shariette, who had smelled, touched, and even tasted it before, recognized it immediately.
Phaynile poison. A toxin developed by the Argen family right before their downfall.
It showed no symptoms until the body reached a certain level of poisoning, earning it the nickname “Silent Killer.”
The main symptoms were high fever, heart and lung failure, and muscle stiffness. In severe cases — delirium, confusion, and hallucinations.
The victim would slowly lose bodily functions, suffer painfully, and eventually die.
It was perfect for disguising the cause of death as illness. That was exactly why it was developed.
Pretending to nod politely, Shariette took a few steps toward the Duchess.
The Duchess had the same scent as Nixia.
‘Since Noxian doesn’t smell like it, the targets are Nixia and the Duchess.’
‘If the scent lingers, then it’s probably from perfume, cosmetics, or something they touch, rather than food.’
That meant the culprit was someone they saw and touched often.
While Shariette was thinking quickly, Marianne spoke warmly:
“I ordered a meal prepared for our guest of honor. Please join us.”
With this new challenge ahead, Shariette’s thoughts stopped abruptly.
Was the knife supposed to be in the right hand or the left?
Fortunately, Shariette’s excellent memory recalled the time Blanche had “trained” her during a beating.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep your head up?!”
“Ugh! Break those disgusting fingers already!”
“Every drop she spills, prick her with that needle! That’ll make her learn!”
Blanche had forced her to eat all kinds of foods over and over until she wanted to vomit, making her practice table manners endlessly — even though Shariette had never expected to attend such meals in her life.
‘Thanks to that, I even know which foods I’m allergic to.’
Those in the Ducal household, unaware of her past, were impressed by her flawless manners.
Especially Noxian, who sat next to her ready to help, but never got the chance.
Given what he had seen the past few days, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she held the knife backwards — yet she handled everything perfectly.
But Shariette didn’t notice the attention on her. She was too busy thinking.
‘Was there another spy I didn’t know about?’
Two years ago, right after she smuggled Noxian out, she had given the Rubellot family a list of Argen spies.
It was possible some had survived, or new ones had been planted afterward.
‘The problem is, how do I tell them?’
-
Oh! You’ve been poisoned with a new type of toxin! You can’t tell because it has no symptoms!
Rejected — who would believe her? -
May I check your utensils and search your room?
Rejected — she’d be lucky not to be thrown out for rudeness. -
The culprit is among us! Let’s search the servants!
Rejected — between people they’ve trusted for over two years and someone they just met today, who would they believe?
Besides, Shariette wasn’t confident in persuading anyone.
Persuasion required trust and goodwill.
Back in Willow Hill, she had relied more on threats backed by her bad reputation — but that wouldn’t work here.
‘The most effective persuasion is proof.’
Catching the culprit red-handed was the answer.
Until then, she would secretly give them an antidote.
Having decided, she could finally focus on her meal again.
Nixia, noticing her change in expression, spoke:
“Miss Berdette. May I call you Shariette?”
“Yes, please feel free.”
“All right, Shariette. Your table manners are excellent.”
“Thank you—”
“Were you born a noble?”
— …Not exactly.
Shariette’s hand paused briefly.
She quickly pulled out a suitable book from her memory:
‘Essential Etiquette Guide (II): Elegant Table Manners.’
“I read it in a book. ‘For those with refinement, the dining table must reflect one’s dignity… This chapter covers seating arrangements and—’”
“Oh my.”
It was the Duchess’s pure exclamation that shut the walking encyclopedia up.
“How impressive. You’re as skilled as any lady trained since childhood.”
“Thank you.”
Without false modesty, her answer came plainly, making Nixia smile silently.
‘Interesting.’
This woman, who seemed so innocent she didn’t notice the mood, was clearly unused to dealing with people.
Not only noble speech, but even casual conversation felt slightly off.
When flustered, she recited theory like reading a book. Even when using polite speech, it didn’t feel quite right.
She stood apart from the surrounding atmosphere, yet still consciously watched others.
It was as if she had been cut off from society for a long time.
‘They said she came from Willow Hill in the east… That’s not such a remote place.’
What stood out most was her naturally upright posture — the kind one couldn’t achieve just by copying or practicing briefly. It had to be ingrained over many years.
‘Commoners wouldn’t have that. She must have had some form of education.’
And what bothered Nixia the most — the unconscious elegance in her manners.
It was exactly the same as someone she used to know.
Blanche Argen.
From the way she picked up utensils to the angle she tilted her head, it was perfectly identical.
As if the spirit of that crazy woman had possessed her.
