Chapter 3

Late at night, an unfamiliar knock echoed through the room.

Deus, who had been pacing by the window of his office, immediately turned toward the door.

“Come in.”

At his quiet command, the door slowly opened, revealing a figure wrapped from head to toe in an oversized robe.

“How did it go?”

Unable to hide his anxiety, Deus asked immediately.

The cloaked figure moved silently toward the sofa without answering, and Deus hurried after them.

The moment the person flopped onto the sofa, they pulled back the hood.

A cute face covered in freckles appeared.

“Emma, how did it go?”

Deus pressed again, his voice tense.

Emma, the most capable maid in the House of Cervellion, smiled knowingly.

“Wow, Your Grace. That woman is no joke. If she ever finds out I was the client, I think she might actually kill me.”

Despite her casual tone, the words were terrifying.

She even ran the edge of her hand across her throat as if illustrating the point.

Deus bit his lip.

He felt guilty toward Emma, but her safety was not his greatest concern right now.

What mattered most was whether that person had accepted the request.

Yet despite his desperation, he could not bring himself to ask.

He was afraid.

Afraid that after searching for her for so many years, he still might never meet her again.

Afraid of hearing the word failure.

As if reading his thoughts, Emma slowly nodded.

Deus clenched his teeth.

He nearly let out an undignified scream.

“Hah… finally.”

The tension left his body all at once.

He collapsed onto the sofa.

Emma shook her head.

What was so special about first love?

No matter how many times she died and came back, she doubted she would ever understand Deus.

“Your Grace!”

At that moment, the office door burst open without a knock.

A flushed-looking man rushed inside.

“Good grief. Sir Chandler apparently lacks not only chivalry but also basic manners.”

Emma immediately snapped at him.

The man scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Well, I thought Miss Emma had returned… and I was curious about what happened. Besides, when have I ever lacked chivalry? That’s a bit harsh.”

The speaker was Chandler Calino, commander of the Cervellion Knights.

Despite his prestigious position, he looked completely helpless under the criticism of a mere maid.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed your chivalry.”

“Well, Miss Emma… isn’t exactly a helpless person.”

Chandler looked at her as though he were stating the obvious.

“I am still a lady, you know.”

“Yes, but Miss Emma is both a lady and—”

“Enough.”

Deus cut them off before the argument could escalate.

Emma glared at Chandler with eyes far sharper than her puppy-like appearance suggested.

Chandler deliberately avoided her chilling stare and turned to Deus.

“Your Grace, what happened?”

The foolish expression he wore around Emma vanished.

This was the face of a knight commander.

Deus slowly nodded.

Chandler clenched a fist in triumph.

He looked like a man desperately trying not to cheer.

Emma clicked her tongue internally.

He was far too easy to read.

“So we finally get to meet the future Duchess?”

Chandler asked excitedly.

The blatant phrase made Deus’s face turn bright red.

A rosy blush spread across cheeks as pale as his silver hair.

Emma stared at both men in disbelief.

How could they both be so simple-minded?

“When… when is she coming?”

Completely oblivious to Emma’s thoughts, Chandler eagerly turned toward her.

“I don’t know exactly when, but she’ll arrive within three days.”

“Finally! To think I’ll actually meet the woman Your Grace has been searching for. It still doesn’t feel real.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Emma answered absentmindedly as she rose to her feet.

“Then I’ll take my leave now, Your Grace.”

“You’ve worked hard, Emma.”

Emma smiled and curtsied politely.

After leaving the office, she disappeared down the hallway.

Deus leaned back heavily into the sofa.

“Three days… three days…”

His fingers nervously touched his lips.

“You spent over three years searching for her. Surely you can endure three more days.”

Chandler attempted a joke to ease the tension.

Deus nodded, though his expression remained stiff.

Knowing something and accepting it were two different things.

“Sir Chandler.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“What if… just hypothetically…”

Deep concern clouded his face.

“What if she doesn’t remember me?”

“…Pardon?”

Chandler stared at him.

It was not the sort of thing he could easily comfort.

Nor could he simply agree.

“What if she’s already forgotten someone like me…? Then what am I supposed to do?”

Storms churned inside his icy blue eyes.

He looked as though he might be swept away by them.

“Y-Your Grace…”

Chandler desperately searched for something to say.

In situations like this, Emma would have been far better suited.

Whether she offered sharp criticism or gentle advice, she would certainly handle it better than he could.

What would Miss Emma say?

Recalling her words and mannerisms, he cautiously spoke.

“Your Grace… I don’t think you need to worry about that until you’ve actually met her.”

Unsure whether he’d said the right thing, Chandler watched Deus carefully.

Fortunately, it seemed to help.

Deus slowly nodded.

“Yes. I suppose I can worry about that after we meet. For now…”

He turned toward the pitch-black night beyond the window.

Only endless darkness stretched before him.

“What worries me more is whether she’ll come at all.”

The end of his sentence trembled slightly.

Chandler could do nothing but watch his troubled lord with sympathy.

* * *

“Master! Master!”

Martini burst through the door, shouting excitedly.

Rosalyn immediately frowned.

If he was this energetic after disappearing all day, there could only be one reason.

“Did you at least get a promissory note?”

Martini froze halfway through reaching into his jacket.

“M-Master!”

His voice filled with shock.

“How did you know? Don’t tell me you’ve become a real fortune teller now—!”

What nonsense.

Rosalyn gave him a look of utter disappointment.

Growing awkward under her silence, Martini quickly handed over a crumpled sheet of paper.

“Ta-da! Aren’t I amazing, Master?”

Without speaking, Rosalyn took it.

The word ‘Pledge’ was boldly written across the top.

“I, Dovak Edik…”

Halfway through reading it aloud, she frowned.

“What is wrong with this idiot?”

Martini looked pleased with himself.

“See? I knew you’d react like that.”

“Wait. One hundred gold? No, forget the money—why is Berta’s name listed as the guarantor? That wasn’t part of the story.”

Rosalyn’s sharp gaze landed on him.

“Who knows? Maybe she got deceived. Or maybe we did.”

Martini shrugged.

“But that’s not the biggest problem. The people who lent him the money are.”

The paper crumpled in Rosalyn’s hand.

“The Bluebird of Night…”

Her green eyes darkened.

The Bluebird of Night was one of the greatest sources of crime in the Pael Empire.

Gambling.

Loan sharking.

Human trafficking.

Theft.

Those were their specialties.

They lent money to gambling addicts at outrageous interest rates.

If borrowers failed to repay, they stripped away their freedom and forced them into theft, robbery, and worse.

Although everyone knew they were a plague upon the empire, no one dared crack down on them.

Their wealth bought too many mouths shut.

And Dovak had borrowed one hundred gold from them.

“Is he insane?”

No matter how she looked at it, Dovak had lost his mind.

Any sensible person would rather die than get involved with the Bluebird of Night.

Especially a noble.

He could have found money elsewhere.

He could have borrowed under far better terms.

So why choose them?

“Master, want to hear the craziest part?”

“What?”

“He already owed two hundred gold before that.”

Rosalyn stared blankly.

“…What?”

“The Bluebird of Night paid off that debt and then lent him another hundred.”

Three hundred gold in total.

The amount was so absurd it hardly seemed real.

“Master…”

Martini suddenly grew serious.

After listening to his proposed solution for some time, Rosalyn reluctantly nodded.

“Fine. Looks like we don’t have much choice.”

Then Martini’s eyes landed on the pouch sitting on the table.

“Oh, Master. What’s that?”

One problem after another.

Rosalyn sighed and briefly explained the mysterious client’s commission.

“T-Two hundred gold?”

Martini’s eyes widened.

Rosalyn, meanwhile, poked the money pouch indifferently.

“A man can gamble away three hundred gold. What’s two hundred compared to that?”

“No, but two hundred! And five times that…!”

Martini’s brain appeared to stop functioning.

Rosalyn clapped loudly in front of his face.

“There’s still three days left for that. Let’s deal with Dovak first.”

“Wait, isn’t the duke situation way more important? How are you even planning to deliver that letter?”

Martini grabbed her arm in panic.

Rosalyn looked at him as though he had asked the world’s most obvious question.

“By meeting him.”

“What?”

“I’ll wake him up in the middle of the night and tell him to write a reply.”

“Master! He’s a duke! A Cervellion!”

“Yeah. Duke Cervellion. I know.”

Was she shameless?

Or simply fearless?

Martini couldn’t tell.

He sighed heavily.

“Just go deal with Dovak first.”

“Me? Again? I literally just got back!”

“How considerate of me. I’m sending you out before you even have time to wash up.”

Rosalyn’s icy stare followed.

Once again reminded of exactly where he stood in the food chain, Martini put on a miserable expression and slowly pulled his hat back over his head.