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~Chapter 49~
“Um, well… it’s kind of like…”
“Kind of like?”
‘Kind of like she’s got a terrifying expression. Like “Just let someone cross me—I’ll tear them apart.”’
But Riden couldn’t say that to the Count.
Instead, she smiled and said:
“She looks like she’s really focused on thinking about someone. That’s how it seems to me.”
“I see… I thought as much… Sigh.”
Merrick dropped his head sadly. His expression darkened under the bright sun.
Riden, who hated seeing the kind Count so dejected, stepped closer and asked gently:
“Count, is something wrong? I might not be much help in a ducal household, but if there’s anything I can do, I will!”
She wasn’t exactly close with the duchess, but she couldn’t just watch Merrick be so down when he’d always been kind to her.
“Ah, Lady Riden, how are you always so kind?”
He placed a hand on his chest and hesitated a moment before speaking.
“Actually, it’s nothing new. My mother has always had the habit of drinking her tea on the terrace regardless of the season—hot or cold.”
‘Does the Duchess have a lot of body heat or something?’
Her red eyes always looked hot, like she was full of heat—or rage.
“It’s because of my father, who went missing.”
“She always sits on the terrace so she can be the first to see him if he ever returns home.”
“Ah…”
Riden sighed heavily.
She looked at the duchess again, the sting in her eyes forgotten.
The expression that earlier looked like rage—“Just let someone mess with me!”—looked different now.
It was no longer anger, but sorrow. No longer wrath, but longing. What had seemed fierce now looked like the face of someone waiting.
“Ah.”
Riden felt ashamed.
‘I read the original story. I even read her diary just a few days ago. How could I not interpret that expression correctly?’
‘I’m such an idiot.’
She’d even cried while reading how deeply Samantha loved her husband William.
Maybe she had judged the duchess too harshly from the start.
Merrick, noticing the shift in her expression, spoke again.
“Of course, Lady Riden wouldn’t know. It’s not like you’ve read her diary or anything.”
“Ah—yes! I haven’t read it, but… it still hurts to hear!”
“Truly?”
“Really!”
“Which part is true—that you haven’t read it, or that it hurts your heart?”
“The part about my heart hurting… no, both! Both are true!”
Riden almost slipped up and admitted she’d read the diary.
She rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t read it.”
“Of course.”
‘But her face clearly says she read it cover to cover.’
Still, Merrick was glad she had.
“Well then, may I have the diary? It seems a maid accidentally included it with your gift. I’ll return it discreetly so no one gets in trouble.”
As she followed Merrick into the mansion, Riden glanced back.
‘William Kenwolf… that was his name.’
The Duke of Kenwolf, officially declared missing.
In the original story, there’s a moment when Ethan remembers his father—how he left alone for the family’s sake.
And Ethan, fearing he too wouldn’t be able to stay beside the heroine, was scared of falling in love.
That diary had lingered in Riden’s thoughts these past few days. It moved her.
She looked at the duchess’s face once more.
‘She must miss him terribly.’
And from that thought, a little desire bloomed inside Riden: to help her.
Merrick said he’d first return the diary to his room and told Riden to wait in the dining room.
It was still early, so he suggested they share a meal.
As Riden sat quietly at the long table, the Duchess entered.
‘She’s wearing her half-mask again today.’
She hadn’t been wearing it on the terrace earlier.
Riden was curious but didn’t ask—because…
The Duchess was glaring at her.
She stared for a long while before walking past the dining room and into the kitchen.
‘Why’s she going into the kitchen? To scold someone?’
Riden felt relieved she hadn’t mentioned the diary in the gift.
Otherwise, the maids would probably have been punished.
‘She’s scolding someone for quite a while… Poor maid.’
But then the Duchess returned.
She set a plate of deep red soup in front of Riden.
“Eat this.”
“Huh?”
“If you fall ill, Ethan will suffer too.”
‘Ah, so this is a health-boosting dish.’
“…Yes.”
Riden stirred the blood-red soup with her spoon.
Inside were large chunks of meat and a generous mix of vegetables.
The herbal spices steamed warmly, releasing a fragrant aroma.
Her mouth watered.
She’d been eating nothing but desserts lately, trying out new recipes for the café reopening.
“I’m lucky today’s the last day.”
If she couldn’t eat the Duchess’s soup after stuffing herself with sweets, it would’ve looked bad.
“Thank you for the food.”
‘It looks delicious!’
This was sincere. She’d been craving something warm and savory—and here it was.
As she brought a big spoonful to her mouth—
“Can’t you see it’s steaming hot?”
“Ah—yes… Hehe. I’ll blow on it first.”
The Duchess sat at the end of the table, watching her.
‘She gave it to me, so she’s probably going to stare until I finish it.’
Uncomfortable… but whatever. Time to eat!
She blew on the spoon and took a big bite.
“Ack, hot—!”
“Look at her.”
“I-It’s okay! I didn’t burn myself!”
The hot soup slid down her throat, even dragging the queasiness from too many sweets away with it.
This was it. Refreshing. Perfect. But… something was odd.
As Riden tilted her head, the Duchess asked:
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
“Well, the taste is…”
…Not really there. The soup, despite all the spices, lacked flavor.
It was bland… and not very good.
‘The ducal chef couldn’t possibly be this bad. Something’s off.’
Maybe she should tell the Duchess?
“Ma’am, the dish…”
“…”
“It doesn’t taste very good.”
The Duchess’s mouth dropped open.
Laughter could be heard from behind the kitchen door, where staff peeked out.
“That can’t be.”
“…?”
“Your palate must be… Never mind.”
She almost said Riden’s tongue was the problem but stopped herself.
She knew Riden had a good eye—and probably a good palate too.
If so, the problem was her own cooking.
The Duchess stood up and went to the kitchen to taste the dish herself.
She’d thought it was fine when she last checked.
Meanwhile, Riden quickly shoveled spoonfuls of soup into her mouth.
With the masked Duchess glaring at her, it was hard to eat.
Even though the flavor was bland, it was the perfect dish to soothe her dessert-heavy stomach.
As she neared the bottom of the bowl, a loud voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Blegh!”
What was that? Someone spitting food out?
Before she could figure it out, the Duchess stormed back and tried to snatch the bowl from her.
“You finished it already!? When did you eat so much?!”
‘Wait… weren’t you the one who told me to eat it?’
Looking around, Riden saw the kitchen staff peeking again—laughing.
“You said it was bad, but you ate it all?”
“W-Well… you told me to.”
“Do you need someone to teach you not to eat things that taste bad?”
At that moment, a bewildered Riden saw Merrick walk in.
He rubbed his forehead like he’d expected this.
“Mother, if Lady Riden eats well, isn’t that a good thing? Why are you trying to take it from her?”
That’s when Riden realized.
The curious stares from the kitchen.
The Duchess acting like she was offended.
How long she’d stayed in the kitchen.
“Wait… did the Duchess cook this herself?”
