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Chapter 7
“Ow… my back.”
Groaning first thing in the morning wasn’t a great sign — but it was thanks to the uninvited little guest last night who took over my bed.
When I turned to look at the bed, it was already neatly made, with no trace of anyone sleeping there.
“My lady…! Why are you over there like that?”
Mari looked at me with pity.
“Where’s Lady Erica?”
“As soon as I came in, she took her pillow and left.”
“Sigh… my life…”
“Your life?”
“No, never mind.”
I shook my head and got out from under the covers.
Mari began tidying my room first thing in the morning.
As I stretched in my nightclothes, still stiff from sleeping on the floor, Mari tilted her head curiously.
“My lady… did you move the vase yesterday? Why is it over here?”
Ah, right — last night I had lifted that narrow-necked vase above my head.
Good thing I realized right away it was Erica at the door. Otherwise, things could’ve gone very badly.
“Hmm… who knows?”
I didn’t bother explaining and pretended not to know, but Mari didn’t care — she just kept cleaning and continued talking.
“Still, that’s good.”
“What is?”
“Lady Erica looked in a good mood this morning.”
Mari stopped cleaning and glanced at me.
“I guess she liked being with you last night.”
Well… we hadn’t exactly shared a blanket and drifted off sweetly like I imagined.
Whether Mari knew the details or not, she sighed deeply.
“She gets lonely around this time of year.”
“This time of year?”
“Ah— I just blurted it out without thinking. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Mari waved her hands, realizing she’d said more than she should, probably remembering the old Gemma wouldn’t have cared to ask.
Around this time of year…
I crossed my legs on the sofa and thought back to the strange conversation between the siblings last night.
“When will you be back?”
“Soon.”
“…Will you be back before then?”
What kind of topic could make the air between them turn so heavy?
“No, Mari… I think you’re right. She probably is lonely.”
“You really think so, my lady? With their memorial day coming soon, it’s always hard on her.”
Mari didn’t specify exactly who, but “their” was obvious — it meant the two people who had never yet appeared in front of me: Martin and Erica’s parents, my in-laws.
I already knew they’d passed away when the siblings were young, but I didn’t know their death anniversary was just a week away.
I uncrossed my legs quietly.
“Since her birthday falls on the same day as their memorial, it always makes her sad.”
Mari’s eyes grew misty.
So that’s why Erica smiled so bitterly last night?
According to Mari, their parents had died in an accident while returning from a long trip — a trip they’d taken to buy a gift Erica had wanted for her birthday.
It happened on the day she turned seven.
“And… my lady, aren’t you going to the Harold family this year?”
“Hm? Oh… no, I don’t feel like it.”
From Mari’s question, I could guess — every year around this time, Gemma had packed up and gone to her own family home.
If the entire household left on that day, maybe Erica had never had a proper celebration at all.
“Mari, then… what about a party?”
“A party?”
“A birthday celebration.”
“Not since then. The Duke forbade it.”
Now I understood the situation.
Martin had lost his parents young too, so perhaps he never thought about celebrating Erica’s birthday.
That’s too cruel.
Erica had been just a child — and for ten years, she’d remained that uncelebrated little girl.
And her only brother ignored the day entirely.
She might be drowning in guilt.
It must feel like her very existence was being denied on the day she was born.
I pictured her at dinner last night, unable to tell Martin it was her birthday or their parents’ memorial. It made my chest ache.
I shot to my feet.
“This won’t do.”
“My lady?”
I walked toward Mari, who was wiping the window frame.
“I’ve been thinking, Mari.”
“Yes, my lady…?”
“I want to ask you for a favor. Will you help me?”
“Of course, anything.”
I smiled.
“We’re going to prepare a party.”
“…What? M-my lady!”
Mari nearly jumped. Of course she’d be alarmed — Martin had forbidden it, after all.
‘Can I really pull this off?’
I just wanted to show Erica that her birthday wasn’t a shameful day.
Not just to her, but to Martin, and everyone in this family.
‘But how?’
Right now, all I had was the 300 sil I’d earned selling my unused dresses.
A birthday party that had been ignored for years…
I glanced out the window.
In the garden, Butler Babel was giving instructions to the gardeners.
Martin’s man.
The one closest to the servants of the Duke’s estate.
If I could win Babel over, there’d be no problem.
“Mari, go fetch Babel for me.”
She looked worried but obeyed.
If I could get him on my side, Erica’s birthday would happen.
Babel entered the hall stiffly, clearly surprised I’d called for him.
He didn’t seem comfortable speaking with me — proof of his loyalty to Martin.
Sitting on the sofa in the center, I gestured for him to sit too.
He’s not great at hiding when he’s nervous.
“I called you because I have a request,” I said.
Sensing this might take a while, he reluctantly sat across from me.
“What is it, my lady?”
“Select some staff to help me prepare Lady Erica’s birthday celebration, and send them to me.”
“…That…”
He avoided my eyes, clearly caught off guard.
Martin’s influence was obvious — it was because of him no one celebrated Erica’s birthday.
Even in the original story, Gemma had run off to her family’s house at this time every year.
Since Babel was Martin’s man, he probably wouldn’t be swayed easily.
“I know what you want to say,” I cut in.
“…”
“I’m not unaware of my in-laws’ memorial.”
“The Duke entrusted me with looking after you, but… this is one order I cannot obey.”
“My husband?”
“Yes.”
So Martin had told him to “look after me”?
I gave a short laugh. More likely he’d told him to watch me.
“So I should take that as him ordering you to spy on me?”
Babel flinched slightly — a small but clear reaction.
He was torn between Martin’s words before leaving, and this unspoken prohibition.
I decided to put him at ease.
“If it’s because of my husband, I’ll take full responsibility.”
“…There’s no precedent for celebrating Lady Erica’s birthday. The Duke will surely be displeased.”
“Babel.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“The only person I need to persuade is Martin Cloud. So just follow my lead.”
I had no interest in repeating myself.
When Martin came back in a week, I’d explain everything then.
Perhaps surprised by my firmness, Babel looked taken aback.
After some thought, he lowered his head.
With the Duke away, the Duchess was in charge — and I was technically his employer too.
“…Understood.”
“Good. Thank you, Babel. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you — just help me for a few days.”
Babel worked fast. I could see why Martin trusted him with so much.
With the staff he selected, we began preparing the party.
Chef Baba looked uneasy about baking a cake for the first time in ten years.
“My lady, Lady Erica absolutely hates cake.”
I thought differently — it was just a defense mechanism.
Hadn’t she gone with me to the cake shop and enjoyed it?
I’d seen her face light up as she took a bite.
Still, to ease Baba’s worry, I added an order.
“Then prepare some crispy cookies along with it.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Baba immediately brightened and busied himself in the kitchen.
I moved on to the banquet hall with Babel.
It wasn’t lavish — my funds were limited — and the decorations looked a bit cheap.
Should I have sold more dresses?
Even Babel seemed to think so, judging from his loud clearing of his throat.
But what could I do? You can’t expect perfection the first time.
“All right, it’s tomorrow. Let’s give it our all,” I told the staff.
“Yes, my lady.”
No point in dampening their spirits with my disappointment — I encouraged them instead.
After the quick inspection, I returned to my room to write a letter to Erica — something she had probably never received before.
Choosing a gift was difficult; I didn’t want to remind her of the painful memories.
I took out the finest stationery and dipped my quill.
Dear Erica,
I debated writing “Lady Erica” but went with her name.
I wrote about the time we’d spent together, and how good a person she was.
Even her name, “Erica,” felt endearing.
I prayed that, when she read it, she would feel her parents’ love too.
Come to think of it… I haven’t run into Erica once while preparing this.
With her usual stubbornness, she might have barged in at some point.
Had her curiosity about me finally faded?
Just then, Mari burst into my room, out of breath.
My quill wobbled on the page.
“What is it, Mari?”
“M-my lady… something’s happened!”
“What happened?”
“T-the Duke has returned!”
“What?”
The ink on my letter blurred and spread.
He wasn’t supposed to be back yet — it was still broad daylight.
According to Babel, Martin was due back tomorrow.
I looked out the window.
Through the darkness, I saw him step down from the carriage and stride toward the mansion.
