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Chapter 11
Noah carefully wiped both of my hands and then leaned back slightly.
Without thinking, I grabbed the handkerchief he had been holding. It was a reflex.
“Throw away the handkerchief, Miss Rotten.”
I looked at him, confused. Why would he say that when it was still usable?
“…You stayed in the attic yesterday. The dampness and smell might stick to you too, Miss Rotten.”
I fell silent at his words. It felt like an angel holding a baton had struck the back of my head.
I had lived in damp, shabby places in my past life, so I understood better than Noah. I was fine, but I didn’t like him staying in such a place.
‘No need for Noah to feel that misery too.’
I stubbornly said to Noah,
“I’ll keep it.”
“…Miss Rotten.”
“I want it.”
I decided on my own and held his handkerchief tightly in my hand.
Noah blinked in surprise at my capricious action. He didn’t take the handkerchief back—he just stood there.
“Count, can I take this as payment for tea?”
‘This’ was the handkerchief Noah had told me to throw away.
Even though we both knew, neither of us had said it was okay. No permission, no approval.
After a short pause, Noah said,
“…Do as you like, Miss Rotten. I won’t ask for it back.”
I smiled, thinking about how cute it would have been if he had asked for it back. But I already knew he wouldn’t take it.
“Good. Noah’s handkerchief is mine from now on.”
I said it quickly and left the parlor, handkerchief warm and soft in my hand.
After Solia left, Noah stayed alone in the parlor.
He felt strange. The sensation of a white feather brushing over his heart felt unfamiliar.
A moment ago, he nearly stopped breathing when Solia spoke before he could.
‘I was going to say, “I’ll keep it. My handkerchief is yours, Miss Rotten.”’
He didn’t understand why he had thought that. Not that he needed to. It was just a meaningless handkerchief.
“I know it’s meaningless.”
But even knowing, he felt happy. A little, but happy.
‘I won’t foolishly expect anything.’
He shook his head slightly and covered his face with the back of his hand. In the empty room, his hand felt hot like sunlight on a summer day.
A month had passed since Noah came to the Baron’s house.
Solia visited almost every day. At first, he was hesitant, but soon he started leaving the door slightly open in advance.
If the door was closed, it was a maid. If open, it was Solia. Noah noticed the difference.
“It sounds different.”
Leaning against his bedhead, he said it after looking away from his book.
When Solia asked, “How did you know it was me?” he answered,
“Your steps are brisk.”
When many people watched, she walked elegantly with a fan. But when coming to his room, her steps were fast and brisk. Noah noticed the difference and had come to wait for her.
Today, what brings you here?
Noah looked at her softly, not fully trusting, but unable to resist his growing comfort with her.
Solia sat on the floor, resting her arms on the bed, chin on her hands, looking up at him.
“It’s summer. I thought we might need new curtains and a canopy.”
Noah blinked, surprised. She smiled and shook her head.
“Lem will help. Noah, you don’t lift a finger.”
“You mean I should eat, rest, and live comfortably like a noble, Solia?”
He spoke softly, surprised by his own words, calling her by name without realizing it.
Solia reached out and brushed her hand along his hair. He didn’t mind; in fact, he kept his eyes lowered and stayed still.
‘I don’t mind another’s touch… but Solia is different.’
She was the only one at the Baron’s house who treated him like a human being.
Even though he had no real home now, he felt okay.
For a month, the Baron had relentlessly tormented Noah. Making him stand in the training grounds all day under the sun, sometimes half a day stretching into a full day.
The supervising knight mocked him:
“Stand straight! If your posture falters, no water! That poor noble boy won over a lady with his charm, did he?”
Noah didn’t tell Solia what he endured. Compared to the experiments at the imperial palace, this was nothing.
But Solia somehow knew and came to the training ground four days ago.
Dressed in a yellow gown with a fancy parasol, she walked lightly toward the knights. All eyes followed her.
She called forward one of the twenty knights lined up.
“What brings you to me, miss?”
“I wonder. What could it be?”
Slap! She struck the knight’s cheek sharply. He had to take it, flinching but enduring.
The girl before him was a rich noble. He could ignore her minor outburst, but she knew he had harassed the maid. That was unforgivable.
“Did you think I came here for that? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you harassing the maids?”
Solia acted for Noah, but never mentioned him. She defended his honor.
‘It wasn’t because of me.’
The knight’s confident face turned pale. Noah had been tormented under the Baron’s orders, but the harassment of the maid left no excuse.
“Harassment?! I never did! It was an accident, I just complimented her… she reminded me of my sister!”
“Shut up and kneel.”
Solia struck him again with her fan, eyes cold.
“Even high-value workers like you, speaking too much? Cheap mouth, cheap soul.”
The knight collapsed to his knees as her sword pressed against his neck. Her mere gaze commanded the order: never look down on her.
He was beaten until he nearly fainted. Solia dismissed him afterward.
Noah felt for the handkerchief in his pocket but it wasn’t there—it was hers now, since she claimed it as her own.
At that moment, the knight commander handed the handkerchief to Solia, who grasped it.
Even though it was her hand being held, Noah felt a creeping discomfort—as if a bug crawled over the back of his hand.
