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Chapter 07
“Did Her Majesty not give you any notice? Once preparations are complete, you’ll be moving to the del Ponto estate,” Rosana said.
“She didn’t say anything like that.”
Astrid only now realized that the Emperor was not someone who shared every detail with her. Come to think of it, even during their first meeting, she had simply said what she needed to say and then sent her away.
Noticing Astrid’s puzzled expression, Rosana added,
“Orders for necessary supplies were probably placed at dawn. You might be able to move in as early as this afternoon.”
“So soon?”
“As long as the bedrooms and dining areas are arranged, basic living won’t be a problem.”
“…It kind of feels like I’m being kicked out.”
Astrid kicked a small pebble that had caught at her toe. It rolled across the ground and stopped against the roots of a hedge.
“Not at all. It’s not like that. Her Majesty is doing this for your sake.”
“For me?”
“Yes. Even if you’re the Emperor’s personal guest, it wouldn’t look proper for an unmarried noble lady to stay in the palace for too long without a debutante.”
“A debutante?”
Each time Rosana spoke, Astrid could only respond with more questions. The Emperor’s voice—“you have much to learn”—echoed in her mind.
“It’s a ceremony where noble young ladies formally present themselves to Her Majesty the Emperor after coming of age. Only after a debutante can they request official access to the palace as adult noblewomen.”
“Haa. What a hassle.”
Astrid’s indifferent reply made Rosana laugh.
This girl really was strange—honest, blunt, and oddly amusing. Considering she had spent almost her entire life at sea, it was only natural she didn’t understand noble customs or etiquette.
‘Do I really need to monitor someone like this?’
The weekly report she was supposed to send to Countess Vasquez was probably going to be as entertaining as a short street theater script.
Florian did not hate all aspects of merchant work.
He enjoyed sitting in his office, reviewing ledgers, checking imported goods, their quantities, origins, and destinations. He also liked examining samples of new trade goods to see whether their quality had improved or stayed the same.
Comparing goods and prices across cities, and predicting what would sell best in the next quarter, was something he was genuinely talented at.
What he disliked was fieldwork—standing in docks and warehouses, surrounded by noise and people, directly supervising loading and unloading.
He was not suited to giving loud orders in dusty, chaotic spaces.
Florian flipped through a list of orders, carefully comparing what was written on paper with what had actually been loaded onto wagons.
Among the familiar destinations, one unfamiliar entry caught his eye.
“The del Ponto estate? Wasn’t that abandoned for over ten years?”
He asked the worker standing beside him.
“We don’t know if Lord del Ponto has returned yet. A sudden order came in this morning.”
“Hm…”
Florian nodded vaguely and scanned the list of goods.
Bolts of coarse cotton—probably for curtains. Linen in large quantities—likely for dining and kitchen use.
What stood out, however, was silk and organza, fabrics typically used for women’s clothing.
‘Did he bring a wife or something?’
Even that category had a large order, though what had been loaded seemed obviously insufficient.
“Is the silk and organza short in quantity? Is that all the warehouse has?”
“We’ve already contacted the outer-city warehouse. They’ll transfer additional stock along with other goods entering the inner city.”
“Then we’ll need to send another delivery this afternoon.”
“The boss also said you should go yourself and make an appearance…”
Mateo was the kind of man who could not resist noble clients. They were often arrogant and demanding, but once trust was established, they became long-term, stable customers.
As usual, he expected Florian to flatter the clients as well. Florian had no desire to go, but given how transparent their schedules were to each other, there was no excuse to avoid it.
“Alright.”
Aside from those two items, everything else was in order.
Florian signaled the carriage to depart.
Astrid’s move was over quickly.
In truth, it could barely be called a “move,” since she had no belongings at all. Rosana only packed a few sets of indoor clothes and nightwear into a leather trunk, insisting, “You’ll need something to wear immediately.”
The carriage stopped not far from the imperial palace. Astrid found it absurd that they had bothered to take a carriage for such a short distance.
The del Ponto estate felt slightly desolate and neglected, as if it had not been touched by human hands for a long time. Yet from the front gate to the entrance, the grounds were filled with people busily working as if trying to make up for that neglect.
Some were scraping rust off the gate, others were removing dead plants from the garden, and still others were planting rose bushes with red buds.
Astrid jumped down from the carriage. As Rosana took out the trunk, the carriage turned back the way it had come.
More wagons were already waiting behind it.
The cycle repeated—wagons stopping, workers unloading goods, carrying them into the estate.
“Your bedroom should already be prepared. Would you like to go inside?”
“No, I’ll stay here and watch for a bit.”
Astrid preferred to observe the busy scene in the courtyard. Everyone moving in coordinated roles reminded her of sailors working together on a ship’s deck.
Another wagon arrived at the gate. The crest on it was familiar—the Ortez Trading Company.
Astrid instinctively hid behind Rosana.
“Is something wrong, my lady?”
“I might’ve caused some trouble with them…”
She watched from behind Rosana as a hooded man stepped down from the driver’s seat and gave instructions to the workers.
His gaze scanned the garden as if looking for the estate’s supervisor. For a brief moment, his eyes met Astrid’s blue ones.
“Eh?”
“Huh?”
Astrid quickly ducked further behind Rosana. She knew that face.
“Hey…!”
The man suddenly started running toward her.
His hood fell back in the wind, revealing shining blond hair. It was the young nobleman from the Ortez ship.
Startled, Rosana froze, but Astrid ignored her and ran straight into the mansion.
As she dashed through the entrance, she thought,
‘Why is he here?’
At the same time, Florian was thinking exactly the same thing.
But then something like anger surged inside him. The same uneasy heartbeat and restless feelings that had haunted him for days returned, even though the sun had not yet set.
Florian was not someone who liked running. Even when angry, he normally expressed it calmly, in words.
But the moment he saw that red hair blowing in the garden, he felt an irrational urge to chase after her.
Without even thinking to ask permission from his employer, he ran into the estate after Astrid.
“Hey, stop right there—!”
“As if I would!”
Astrid ran to avoid being caught.
The main corridor stretched long from the entrance. She moved swiftly between workers carrying goods, twisting her body to avoid collisions.
The red hair in her vision swayed wildly.
‘This really stands out too much. I might have to shave it off!’
As she ran deeper into the estate, fewer workers appeared.
Strangely, the more she ran, the better she felt. The tension in her mind cleared. Perhaps she had simply lacked physical activity since being captured by the navy.
The voice shouting “stop!” gradually faded behind her.
She was faster.
Only then did Astrid ask herself why she had been running away in the first place.
‘Because I didn’t think he’d actually chase me?’
She slowed down and stopped, turning around.
She waited, but he was no longer there. Had she lost him? Or had he given up?
‘Was I the one running away because I felt guilty?’
Then she spotted him.
The blond young man was leaning against the corridor wall, gasping for breath.
“You’re really bad at running,” Astrid said as she approached.
He didn’t respond.
“Hey, about what happened before, I—”
She reached out toward him.
And then—
Thud.
The moment her hand touched him, he suddenly collapsed sideways onto the floor.
