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Chapter 04
“If you wait here for a moment, His Excellency will come.”
“Thank you.”
Porre, who had escorted Marisel to the audience room, turned gracefully as befitted a grand duke’s steward.
“Um… Porre?”
He acknowledged her with a polite nod.
“I have a question.”
“Ask freely.”
“How many people have had interviews today besides me?”
“Two. You are the last candidate for today, Miss.”
“I see… thank you.”
Marisel smiled politely as she thanked him.
Once Porre left, she was alone in the expansive audience room.
Ha… it’s unnecessarily huge.
Everything she had seen since entering the grand duke’s mansion had been massive. Even a single pillar required two people to wrap their arms around it. The long corridor leading from the central hall to the audience room, lined with Corinthian columns, felt like stepping into an ancient temple.
The Manua Viscount house couldn’t compare in scale.
Luxurious window frames, spotless glass, and velvet green curtains neatly hanging on either side. The late morning sunlight streamed through, highlighting the spot where Marisel stood.
“The sunlight is so beautiful…”
The view from inside the room was serene and lovely.
Hmm, working here would be a feast for the eyes. Nice.
While waiting, Marisel examined the furniture and display cabinets. Each piece looked expensive.
As expected from a wealthy family.
Then she noticed something unexpected: a full-length mirror in the corner.
It wouldn’t do to just pass by a mirror.
She stepped in front of it and carefully examined her reflection. Platinum hair, fair skin, fresh as a blooming pink rose. She had never truly understood the phrase “youth is beautiful on its own,” but now she did.
Her Indian-pink dress wasn’t too simple nor too flashy; it complemented her violet eyes, giving her a calm yet radiant appearance.
Hmm… even I must admit, I look good.
“I hope Morgan isn’t too late… it feels like I’ve been looking around forever…”
A knock sounded at the door.
Speak of the tiger…
Marisel moved to a chair, but to her surprise, it wasn’t Morgan—Porre appeared.
“Miss, my apologies. His Excellency may be delayed. If you wish, you may leave.”
Marisel’s heart skipped a beat.
What…? Leave just like that? Impossible.
A warning bell went off in her mind. She thought fast.
“That means I can wait, right? Or… does it mean I should come another day?”
Perhaps Morgan was testing her.
“Then I’ll wait.”
“Very well. I’ll have some refreshments prepared for you.”
“Ah… thank you, please.”
Porre bowed slightly and stepped back.
“Oh! Wait—could you tell Emma not to worry and just wait as well?”
Porre nodded and left, and Marisel exhaled in relief.
Nothing is ever simple.
Soon, Porre returned with tea and pastries. Everything was neatly arranged. The faintly sweet aroma of tea relaxed her tense mind and body. The pastries were not overly sweet, pairing perfectly with the tea.
One bite made her realize she was hungry; she had barely eaten breakfast in her nervousness. The tea and pastries slid down like a proper meal.
I should maintain the decorum of a noblewoman…
She had already eaten a fair amount, debating whether to take more. Eventually, she decided it didn’t matter—being full eased her tension.
She sank into the sofa, ready to straighten up the moment someone knocked. Her fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest, momentarily relieving her boredom. But the effect was short-lived.
The sunlight had shifted westward; at least an hour had passed.
When will Morgan arrive?
Marisel closed her eyes, her mind wandering through possible interview questions and various thoughts.
Meanwhile, Morgan’s aide and bodyguard, Lino, urged him in polite tones.
“Master, perhaps it’s time to head out?”
“Porre hasn’t sent word. That means she’s still waiting.”
Morgan’s reply was indifferent, eyes fixed on his documents.
“Leaving a lady waiting too long isn’t ideal.”
He looked up at Lino.
“She said she’d wait. She had other choices. And she didn’t come here expecting to be pampered.”
“That’s true, but… such a cold-hearted, ruthless man.”
Half an hour later, Morgan finally finished his paperwork.
“Give these to Ronan. Tell him to process them as quickly as possible.”
Lino handed off the documents while Morgan donned his coat. Though he usually preferred a white shirt, today he dressed formally for the interview.
“Let’s go.”
“That Viscount girl seems serious about being a nanny. If I were the employer, I’d give her a high score, judging by how long she’s waited…”
Morgan walked silently, while Lino headed toward the audience room, curiosity and anticipation about Marisel growing. Unlike the previous candidates, Porre’s subtle difference in treating her also piqued Lino’s interest.
A knock sounded: tap, tap.
Porre opened the heavy door of the audience room.
“Huh? There’s no one here?”
Lino frowned, disappointed.
Porre looked puzzled. Marisel, who should have been waiting, was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did she go?”
“She didn’t say she would leave. She hasn’t exited the room,” Porre replied, equally confused.
Morgan glanced at the room but decided checking further was unnecessary. He turned sharply.
Then a faint noise: thump, puff~
Everyone froze. Morgan strode toward the sound with curiosity.
“Ha!”
He stifled a laugh at the absurd sight.
Marisel, who everyone thought had left, had finished all her tea and pastries and was now sleeping soundly on the sofa.
“I like this girl! I’ve never seen anyone in the grand duke’s house so boldly… no, so comfortably at ease!”
Lino wiped away tears of laughter. Porre, less able to laugh, carefully approached to wake her.
“Miss… Marisel, wake up. His Excellency has arrived.”
Marisel didn’t stir.
Porre called again, flustered. Still no response. Morgan stepped forward.
“Stop sleeping and wake up.”
His voice was low, menacing—like a beast growling in the shadows.
Marisel shivered, rubbing her arms, and slowly opened her eyes.
“…Ugh… wh-why is it so c-cold—heeerk!”
A scream she had never uttered escaped. Before her, a man with piercing blue eyes glared sharply—reminiscent of the messenger she had seen days ago and in her recent dream.
Her heart raced violently, pounding against her ribs. Confused between dream and reality, she noticed Lino laughing uncontrollably nearby and Porre’s troubled expression.
“Miss… this is His Excellency, Grand Duke Morgan Ergana Yohaim.”
