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Chapter 75
Ugh…
Her head throbbed the more she thought, so Riana decided to stop. She put on a smile, bent her knees, and bowed.
“Then this ‘charming commoner’ will take her leave. I’d appreciate it if you kept not calling for me—just like today. I’m tired, what with waging war for the ‘main-wife’ spot.”
“Fine. I’ll resist any ‘sensual pull’ and focus on my research.”
“I truly hope that research isn’t polygamy.”
A faint laugh slipped between Killian’s lips. Riana’s eyes curved in a small smile.
With their unspoken truce begun—and her guard against Killian lowered—she felt lighter.
Arming your heart with a steel wall every time you face a man who’s distracting just to look at? Exhausting.
Ironically, just as he’d once said, feeling more at ease with him did make her feel better.
That Postb disgust is completely gone now.
Riana turned to leave with light steps when Killian’s voice stopped her.
“Oh, and—”
“Yes?”
Behind his desk, spine straight, he said:
“I’m not afraid of spiders. I simply don’t like them.”
Riana answered only with a smile and stepped over the threshold.
Yeah, sure. I saw your face earlier.
Back in the maids’ room, Riana laid her tired body on the bed—
“Up we go.”
—pretended to, stuffing odds and ends under the blanket.
She pulled the covers up to the pillow. Perfect.
I do have a talent for staging.
Her life plan had been: romances in her 20s, conquer film in her 30s, debut as a director in her 40s.
“Ugh. Enough. No point clinging to a past life now.”
Shaking her head, she gave the room a last look.
Cozy. Absolutely like a maid sleeping soundly.
Good. Move out!
Shoes in hand and on tiptoes, Riana slipped down the Isolation Tower.
Outside, she headed for the main building.
Where was the butler’s office again? Around here—ah!
Found it. After pushing through the dark, she arrived and grinned.
Bastian had said he was re-checking staff records lately.
That meant the newest files on the maids should be organized there.
Cece will be in there for sure.
Before opening the door, she probed for magic. As expected, a security spell sat on the knob.
It wasn’t one of Droche Company’s fine devices—more like an old enchantment bound to the building.
Enough to stop normal folk and standard mages…
…but to a magic-arts practitioner like me, it’s just a weed to yank out!
With a wicked little giggle, Riana nullified the lock in a breath and slipped inside.
Finding the documents took no time—work in progress was scattered everywhere.
Bastian… not big on tidying, are we?
Gathering a faint light on her fingertips, she flipped pages one by one.
A little later—
“Found you.”
A small round face, doll-like features, huge glasses hiding the eyes.
After checking the photo, her gaze raced down the text.
Birthplace, past employment, references, family, marital status—clues she’d hoped to mine.
But something else blew her pupils wide: Cece’s full name printed under the photo.
“Cece MacGuffin.”
“…What the…”
“MacGuffin” was a word from her film studies in her past life—a directing term.
Something that shows up looking important, grabbing the audience’s attention, but is actually nothing more than bait.
In tactics: a feint. In plain speak: a red herring.
In short—wild goose chase.
Shuffling out of the main building, Riana drifted west without thinking. When her mind churned, she had a habit of walking.
Thinking hard as she paced, she ended up at Genevieve Castle.
“Miss Riana…?”
Perfect timing: the heroine herself, just off a late shift, stepped out the gate.
“…Miss Deborah.”
Every thought swirling in Riana’s head evaporated. She stopped, stiff with tension.
Deborah stood at the gate; Riana a little ways off.
She meant to keep that distance—nothing good would come from getting closer.
But Deborah strode toward her.
“Um, by any chance…”
The bright streetlight lit the paper in her hand.
No need to ask—it was the Postb.
Riana answered before the question finished. “Yes. I saw it earlier.”
“Ah. I read it this evening too…”
They both recalled the article at once and fell silent, faces sour.
When their wandering eyes finally met, a thick kinship settled in the dark air.
The long silence wasn’t awkward at all.
In that moment, the two “scandal leads” pitied each other. No words needed. Right now, no one understood them better than they understood each other.
Rough day, huh…?
You too…
Everything was shared in a look.
—Eight hours earlier, before that wordless exchange of feelings.
Right after the Postb alert went out that evening.
The scandal had swept through Genevieve Castle a little earlier than the maids’ wing.
“Is it really true that Deborah is… that way with his Grace?”
“I admit she’s a capable researcher, but even so, would the Millicent house ever suit his Grace’s eye?”
“They say he even spent the night with a maid—so a viscount’s daughter would be better, if anything.”
“That’s got to be nonsense! We all saw that bull-headed Isolation Tower maid. How could anyone link a woman like that with his Grace!”
“In the end, he’s a man. A man’s desire for beauty doesn’t come with a status filter.”
“I strongly disagree. Let’s pretend this talk never happened.”
“Tsk.”
High and mighty, huh. As if society didn’t know she’d tried and failed to court the Droche house several times!
Muttering at the back of the woman who’d flounced off, another turned on her heel with arms crossed.
When she too left, careful footsteps began to tap along the empty corridor.
What is this…
Deborah moved quietly, holding her breath.
The looks she’d felt all evening were maddening, one by one. And she was used to enduring nasty stares!
The paper hadn’t printed names, but anyone at the company could guess who “Miss R” had been harassing.
People who’d known her a long time reacted much the same:
If it’s Deborah Millicent, she might well have set her sights on the Duke.
And frankly, she didn’t disagree with that old her:
Yes, I once thought of it as a card I could play someday.
She even admitted she’d been grateful the head of the continent’s most successful magic company was a man.
But not anymore.
Because I fell in love for real.
She swore to the sky—she had zero intention of tangling with the Duke. What lightning bolt of punishment was this, for a sin not yet committed?
And the misunderstanding wasn’t aimed only at her.
“Miss Riana is clearly spoken for too, so what is this…”
That girl had every right to be furious as well.
The moment Deborah reached the research floor, stares pinned her. The whispers tickled her ears—unintelligible, yet she knew what they meant.
“Ugh—”
With a fed-up sigh, she went into her lab—her private room as the new project lead.
Best stress relief is focusing on experiments.
She headed for the bench—then paused.
A sheet of paper lay beside the beaker. Not hers.
“Who left this—”
Researchers hate variables they didn’t intend. A paper she hadn’t put there might disturb an experiment.
Deborah rarely frowned, but now her brow creased as she picked it up.
It was a note.
“…What on earth…”
Her eyes rounded.
The message wasn’t shocking—the handwriting was. It was so messy she could barely read it.
Squinting, leaning in, she made it out—roughly:
“Don’t you dare covet my man!”
“My… man?”
Or…
“…Gray?”
Which it was would change the suspect.
If it meant “my man” as in the Duke, then the culprit could be any number of socialites who fantasized about calling him theirs—too vague to matter. Deborah didn’t care for petty society skirmishes.
But if it meant Gray—
If it meant the man Deborah truly had her sights on—
Then the likeliest suspect was his actual current girlfriend, Riana.
Let’s check.
Deborah opened the lab door and leaned out. A passing research assistant immediately asked…
