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CHAPTER 11 –
“You’re Here?”
Knock knock—
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Miss, just a moment. I think the delicious crab soup has arrived.”
“Mmm.”
“Come in—oh! M-M’lord…!”
The maid’s voice abruptly stopped. Her breathing became shaky, and her body froze.
But Piace, feverish and dazed, didn’t notice any of it.
“Huh? If you’re going to be noisy, just go away… Oh, okay. Yes… um, Miss, I have to step out for a bit. Your meal will be served by the master’s… um, by the other lady. Please chew thoroughly and eat slowly.”
“Okay…”
There was another sound of the door closing.
A moment later, the person who brought the food took the ice pack from under Piace’s armpit.
They also removed the damp towel that had been covering her forehead.
The biting cold that had been torturing her finally disappeared, but now the fever made her suffer in a different way.
A tear slid down from the corner of her tightly shut eyes.
Sshh—
Someone gently wiped it away.
Piace forced her eyes open. Because of the fever and the tears pooling in them, everything was blurry.
She closed her eyes again. The same hand slowly cupped her cheek.
“That doesn’t feel like one of the maids’ hands.”
She’d felt all their hands before—this one was much softer, more slender. And cooler.
Piace let out a soft whimper and rubbed her face against the palm.
The fever seemed to ease, just for a moment.
“That’s nice… Please keep touching me like that.”
But the hand soon pulled away.
Before she could feel disappointed, the same hand gently slipped under her armpits and lifted her slightly.
Then, a soft, wide cushion supported her tiny back.
Her neck was weak, and her head fell backward—but the cool, slender hand caught the back of her head.
It cradled her carefully, then gently smoothed her hair.
“Haa… Thank… thank you…”
Piace smiled faintly.
There was a soft clinking of dishes.
A warm breeze brushed past her lips.
“Crab soup… it smells so good.”
Normally, she would’ve opened her mouth before even smelling it.
But this time, she couldn’t.
Even though she’d promised the maid she would eat, she just couldn’t.
“I said I would, but if I swallow it, I might throw up…”
She couldn’t. Throwing up would be bad.
She hadn’t ever thrown up since arriving here, but back at the house she was adopted into before, if she vomited, she’d be locked in the bathroom until the smell was gone.
Remembering that day made her jaw clench tight.
The fear of vomiting and being locked up was stronger than the fear of breaking a promise and being hated.
At that moment, the hand supporting her head moved.
It gently stroked her round head, and one by one, lifted the strands of hair stuck to her forehead.
The touch was awkward and cautious—even in her pain, Piace found herself smiling.
The maid sisters usually rubbed her hair with rough “scrubs,” not these careful strokes.
“But this gentle one… I think I like it more.”
Her lips relaxed. Soup trickled into her mouth.
Surprisingly, her stomach didn’t turn.
She had expected to feel nauseated—but nothing. She felt perfectly fine.
“Thank goodness! I can eat after all!”
The person gently spooned in the soup, gave her medicine, and even wiped her lips afterward.
The awkward touch lingered, making Piace curious.
“Who are you? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
She forced her eyelids open.
Through her blurred vision, a faint silhouette appeared.
“…Silver hair?”
She caught a glimpse of a beautiful color—though she couldn’t tell if it was hair or clothing.
“Uuh…”
Just that little effort made her eyes sting. Tears streamed down from her temples.
It felt like someone was pressing down inside her skull.
Like her eyeballs might pop out. She was suddenly terrified.
“It hurts! It hurts so much!”
She wanted to wail and cry out.
Maybe it would hurt less if she did.
But she held back.
She pressed her lips tight and clenched her jaw as hard as a walnut.
“I can’t cry out loud. That’s bad. If someone hears, they might kick me out. I don’t want to be abandoned again. I want to stay here…”
Her mind wandered.
Piace prayed, not knowing who she was praying to.
Then, as she endured the pain, still and silent, the delicate hand gently covered her eyes.
“So cool…”
The pain began to fade.
Piace slowly drifted into sleep.
Still clutching that fine pinky finger tightly.
The Next Day
By the next day, Piace was completely fine—as if she had never been sick.
She sat on her bed with a fairy tale book, glancing at the pictures, waiting for lunchtime.
“Maybe today I’ll get to eat with the Duke?”
Just thinking about seeing him again after so long made her heart flutter with joy.
“Miss, pardon us.”
The maids came bustling into her room.
They set up a round table in the center of the bedroom and spread out a white lace cloth.
They placed a vase full of roses in the center and arranged silverware on either side.
Piace sat quietly on the bed, watching curiously.
“What are they doing?”
Once the table was ready, more maids brought in the food.
Then she realized:
“Oh, they’re setting up the meal in my room because I was sick.”
But she was fine now. More than capable of eating in the dining room.
“Um, I-I’m not sick anymore.”
“Still, let’s keep you in your room for today.”
The maids gave warm smiles, then stepped aside.
It was like they were clearing the way.
Soon, someone entered the bedroom.
The most beautiful person Piace had ever seen in all her five years of life.
“D-Duke…?”
She couldn’t believe it.
The Duke had never once entered her bedroom.
She stared, wide-eyed, as he looked down at her with his usual cold gaze.
“Why are you staring? Are you sulking because I didn’t visit while you were sick?”
“Sulking…? What does that mean?”
Was that… a smile? Did the Duke’s lips twitch just now?
Did she imagine it?
“Ahem. Come sit down.”
Piace blinked a few times, then quickly jumped out of bed.
“But… th-this is my b-bedroom…”
“So what? There’s no place in my house that I cannot go.”
“He does know it’s my room!”
She nervously twisted her fingers and smiled like a fool.
The Duke gestured toward the table, unimpressed.
“Well? Are you going to sit or not?”
“Yes!”
Piace hopped onto the chair—then froze.
She’d been so happy, she forgot herself and jumped.
“The Duke hates rude behavior… What have I done?”
She imagined him walking out on her in disgust and nearly cried.
“……”
But the Duke simply unfolded his napkin with elegance.
No scolding.
“He must not have noticed. Whew, thank goodness!”
Piace let out a small secret sigh and picked up her salad fork.
“I want the soup…”
After being sick, she didn’t want anything cold.
But the proper order was salad first…
Just as she quietly poked her salad—
“This salad isn’t fresh. Take it away.”
“……?”
Piace stared wide-eyed at the salad.
It looked very fresh to her.
“Yes, sir.”
The maids approached like ghosts and took both the salad and the fork from her hands.
“Wh-what now? Should I wait until they bring it back?”
Confused, she glanced at the Duke.
He had picked up his spoon and was slowly eating soup.
“Ah! That means I can have soup first too!”
She smiled and sipped the chicken soup.
Warm broth filled her belly. So comforting.
“Yum!”
Suddenly she felt ravenous.
Her feet kicked a little—but she quickly lowered them and glanced at a dish placed closer to the Duke.
It was her favorite.
But too far away.
Reaching across the table during a meal was rude.
So she swallowed her longing and sipped her soup.
“That dish—move it over here. The smell bothers me.”
“……?”
The maid moved the plate right in front of Piace.
“It doesn’t smell at all…”
And the Duke had never moved food before—he always had it removed.
Piace’s heart swelled.
Something about all this felt… very strange.
