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Chapter : 22
I opened my mouth to thank him, but the butler cut me off and began walking.
“Ah….”
Judging by his expression, he looked a bit angry.
I quietly told Carlos to return to his room and quickly followed after the butler.
Step, step.
“……”
The hallway in the evening was rather dark, and only the occasional sound of footsteps broke the silence.
“Um… I’m sorry.”
“……”
It felt quite difficult to break that silence, but I forced myself to speak.
Despite my effort, the butler said nothing.
He simply continued walking at the same pace.
“You were hit because of me… Are you alright?”
“…….”
“You could have just left it alone.”
The butler suddenly stopped walking, and I had no choice but to stop as well.
“…It’s just.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve changed lately.”
The butler continued to speak, still with his back turned toward me.
“When that child, Carlos, was involved the other day—same thing. I heard you gathered all the servants who received money from you.”
“……!”
The butler continued slowly.
He spoke of things he shouldn’t have known, in a flat, even voice.
“And today, too… you talked back to His Grace and the young masters.”
“That was—”
“Don’t do that.”
Only then did the butler turn his face toward me.
“Stop it. Just behave as you used to.”
“What…?”
“That’s the better choice for you, my lady.”
I frowned in confusion.
Why was he saying this to me? I couldn’t understand his intent.
A better choice for me?
“Just endure it. Obey His Grace’s words. As you’ve done all this time.”
“……”
His expression didn’t change.
No—if anything, he looked slightly more irritable than usual.
He seemed to pity me. And also looked frustrated.
“Let’s go. His Grace is waiting.”
Step, step.
He started walking again.
But I couldn’t follow right away.
Endure? Obey?
Did he know what was said to me—what I heard?
Why should I endure? Endure what?
Why did he speak as though my enduring was only natural?
How did he know I gathered the servants?
Had he reported it to the duke?
“……”
He glanced back, urging me to move.
I wanted to demand why I must endure—but I closed my mouth and followed.
Was it because I felt guilty that he was struck in my place?
Or because I was startled he knew what he shouldn’t?
Or because he looked saddened while saying those words?
“……”
Whatever the reason, I couldn’t confront him.
Perhaps I feared the tears I had held back would finally spill.
Knock, knock.
“Young Duke. It’s Simon.”
“Come in.”
At Lawrence’s permission, Simon opened the office door.
Normally, he would have had to wait a long while until Lawrence lifted his gaze from the paperwork.
But today, as soon as the door opened, their eyes met.
“I’ve looked into Lady Patricia.”
Lawrence gave a small nod.
A movement as slow as always.
Even in his composed gesture, Simon sensed a hint of impatience.
Perhaps because Lawrence’s eyes appeared sharper than usual.
Pressed by his silent expectation, Simon hurried to speak.
“According to the servants, Lady Patricia no longer causes trouble lately. They say she’s been doing various kind things.”
“Kind?”
“Three different servants even praised her. They said they’ve never seen someone as gentle as her. One said she found an injured bird during a walk and treated it. Another said she tearfully gave money to an elderly beggar.”
Simon relayed the stories with a doubtful tilt of his head.
“That’s odd.”
Lawrence frowned slightly at the fairy-tale-like bird story and noticed Simon’s suspicious expression.
“It just sounded strange.”
“Strange?”
“As if they were making it up on the spot. They stammered and their eyes wavered—like lying.”
“Lying?”
Lawrence stroked his chin.
This wasn’t the first time they had learned of Patricia’s schemes through the servants, and none of their previous words had turned out false.
They simply described their daily lives.
Lawrence also found it hard to believe Patricia would show kindness, but disbelief alone wasn’t reason to assume lies.
And three different people had said the same thing.
What would they gain by lying for Patricia?
“At first they launched into praise out of nowhere—saying she’s virtuous, compassionate, always gentle.”
Simon blinked slowly, recalling the scene.
“But Patricia? Suddenly kind? I demanded examples. Then they stuttered badly. If they’d actually witnessed something, they should have spoken more easily.”
“Hm.”
Lawrence tilted his head.
“But they’ve no reason to lie. If those who hate her say that, she must have truly impressed them.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
Simon trailed off.
He knew very well how much the servants despised and looked down on Patricia.
And indeed, they had no motive to fabricate praise on her behalf.
So why had they acted so suspicious?
As though inventing the story right there.
“……”
“So—she softened after the accident. And that’s it?”
“Yes. Other than that, they say nothing has changed.”
At that, Lawrence’s gaze deepened.
As if turning something over in his mind.
“……”
“There’s one more thing.”
Simon hesitated before finally breaking the silence.
“There was a small quarrel in the dining room yesterday.”
Lawrence motioned for him to continue.
“They say Lady Patricia argued with the Duke—and angered him and the young masters.”
“And?”
“I heard the Duke drove her out of the dining room.”
“Do we know what he said?”
“No. They couldn’t hear clearly from where they were, but they said the moment she spoke back, Young Master Morgan stood up in anger.”
Lawrence’s brows knit sharply.
“And that was that?”
“They say the young masters went to her afterward. And the Duke summoned her separately.”
“Was she struck—”
He let the words trail.
“That doesn’t seem to be the case.”
Only then did Lawrence nod lightly.
“I see.”
He exhaled softly and glanced at the clock.
Six in the evening.
Too late to visit another household.
“You may go.”
Simon bowed and left the office.
“Haa…”
He only wanted to know why Patricia had changed.
Whether she was plotting something new, or had truly undergone a change of heart, or perhaps had fallen ill.
He wanted to stop wasting thought and concern on her.
“Haa…”
But now Simon’s report left her occupying his mind even more.
“Young Duke. We’re meeting quite often lately.”
“There’s something I wasn’t able to ask my lady.”
Lawrence stared unblinkingly at Morgan, expressionless, not a trace of a smile.
“……”
There was hostility in his gaze.
Morgan couldn’t endure it and looked away.
But still, Lawrence did not break eye contact.
Morgan awkwardly reached a hand to the back of his head.
“Ow…”
He winced, face contorted, and quickly dropped his hand.
“Lord Morgan, what is it?”
Lawrence finally spoke, still expressionless.
“It— it’s nothing.”
Morgan let out a small groan but shook his head.
“Are you injured?”
Lawrence clearly meant to get an answer, and pressed again.
“…Yes.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure myself.”
Lawrence tilted his head.
What an absurd answer.
He flinched from the slightest touch on the spot, yet didn’t know how he’d been injured?
“Did you fall out of bed?”
“No! No, of course not!”
Morgan flushed red, apparently catching the disdain on Lawrence’s face.
His voice rose.
“I was practicing swordsmanship in a corner of the garden when something flew at me—and struck my head.”
