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Chapter 5
Wait a second…
I froze mid-wave. Only after my hand was already in the air did I realize—waving wasn’t exactly the kind of greeting a maid should be giving to what was clearly a distinguished guest of the Archduke.
“Oh! H-hello!”
I quickly dropped my hand and bowed my head. From her lips—those fairy-like lips—spilled a soft laugh.
What did that laugh mean? As I puzzled over it, she closed the distance between us and stood right before me.
“You’re a face I haven’t seen before. Do you work here?”
“Ah, y-yes!”
“And your name?”
“I’m Lillian.”
“Lillian…”
Her mouth parted as though she wanted to say more, as though she knew something. But instead, she simply smiled.
“Adorable. The name suits you.”
“Th-thank you.”
What was that just now? Why did it feel like she was hiding something?
Trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, I asked lightly, “Are you a guest of His Grace the Archduke?”
“That’s right. Though I came a little earlier than the agreed time.”
She said it casually, but this was no trivial matter. To wander freely into the innermost gardens of the Archduke’s mansion, one needed permission straight from the master himself.
Could she be the Archduke’s lover? Or maybe his fiancée?
Either way, it was my chance. Using someone as kind-looking as this fairy-like lady felt a little wrong, but it had already been three days. I couldn’t delay my report any longer.
So I pressed a bit further.
“May I ask your name, miss?”
“…Excuse me?”
For a moment she blinked—then burst into laughter, her clear voice ringing through the garden.
W-what? Why is she laughing?
I stared at her, completely flustered. At last, she explained with a lingering chuckle:
“Forgive me. It’s just… it’s been so long since anyone’s called me ‘miss.’”
After regaining her composure, she extended a hand with effortless grace.
“Call me Madame Brant. I run a salon in the capital.”
On her finger glittered a diamond ring. My eyes widened. So she’s married…!
“I beg your pardon, Madame.”
“Don’t be. I actually enjoyed it—hearing ‘miss’ again, even by mistake.”
She smiled, clearly pleased, absentmindedly touching her wedding ring.
Lucky me. She seems to like me, at least.
Not just because I called her “miss,” I suspected, but I didn’t have the luxury to dig deeper. Better to keep her talking.
“What brings you to the Archduke’s estate, Madame?”
She tilted her head, then replied with a playful spark in her eyes:
“Think of it as… sponsor management.”
Sponsor?
Seeing my confusion, she kindly elaborated.
“His Grace is the greatest patron of my salon. He sponsors promising young artists, scholars, sometimes even unusual inventions or works of art. In short, he has the refined hobbies of a wealthy nobleman.”
She winked, and I nodded along.
But then—
“What are you doing here.”
The cold voice cut through the garden like a blade. Both of us turned at once.
There, standing tall, was none other than Archduke Pelium.
Later, in his study, Raymond recalled the scene.
‘I-I’m just here working! Please, carry on with your conversation!’
At his appearance, the little maid had practically leapt out of her skin, vanishing into the garden like a child caught misbehaving.
Annoying.
Leave her for a moment and she finds ways to get herself hurt. When he returned, she’d acted as though she’d seen a demon. Even a harmless jest had made her bristle uncharacteristically.
‘At least I won’t have to replace her anytime soon. Finding new maids every time is such a hassle.’
He smirked at the memory. That pale, defiant little face of hers, lips pressed shut because she couldn’t think of a reply—it amused him more than he expected.
His thoughts were interrupted as Madame Brant laid down a bundle of papers.
“The sponsorship documents you requested. Quite a volatile painter, but you spotted his talent well.”
“….”
“Your Grace?”
He blinked, brushing back his hair. “Ah. My mind wandered for a moment.”
He read the documents carefully, then signed each page, sealing them with his crest.
Handing them back, he asked, “What’s your impression?”
Though it might have sounded like he was asking about the artist, his mind was elsewhere. Madame Brant, sharp as ever, smiled knowingly.
“She’s adorable.”
The maid. Lillian. That innocent face, the unguarded emotions written so clearly across it, and those stubborn, inquisitive eyes. She was exactly Madame Brant’s type—someone she might even hire as a model for her salon.
“Is that all?” Raymond’s brow arched.
“Well…” She considered. “It feels like she’s wearing clothes that don’t quite fit her.”
A secret lurking underneath—how deliciously intriguing.
But the Archduke was not so easily entertained.
“That’s not enough. Look into her again, thoroughly.”
A command disguised as a favor. Madame Brant pouted playfully.
“You always give me errands. So very demanding, Your Grace.”
“With your husband away, who else can I rely on but you?”
“Mm, and whose fault is it that my dear husband is away in the first place?”
“Not ‘away’—let’s call it a short gift of freedom I bestowed upon you.”
His brazen correction made her laugh.
“Well, that’s not entirely wrong.”
They both knew the truth: despite appearances, the Brant couple were inseparable, much to the exasperation of everyone around them. Which was exactly why Raymond could afford such jokes.
That night, I dragged my aching body back to my little room.
“Ugh… I’m exhausted.”
Maybe it was the tension—running into that guest, and then, the Archduke himself. When he’d suddenly appeared, I nearly fainted on the spot!
Still, I’d managed to excuse myself gracefully and even passed the gardener his snack without incident. Success.
“I’ll finally be able to write something tonight!”
I clenched my fist in triumph. After days of sleepless nights worrying about getting stabbed in my bed, I was practically useless at work. Even my dishwashing mistakes were because of that.
But now—armed with what I’d learned from Madame Brant—I sat at my desk, ready to draft a report.
And then I froze.
“…How do I even send this?”
At last, the most practical problem of all stared me right in the face.
