The Lady seemed distant again. I knocked on the door multiple times, but she wouldn't respond.

  It reminded me of how she used to be, months ago. And it was all that prince's fault.

  I knew the Lady's mental health was fragile, but that man must have triggered something — something from deep in her past. A crack of thunder came from outside as rain began pouring heavily.

  I wiped the mist from the window and saw the prince still standing exactly where I had left him, motionless in the rain.

  Of course I'd feel sorry for him. But…

  He was undeniably one of the people who had made my Lady's life miserable.

  I opened the door to the outside and grabbed an umbrella. "Get inside."

  I wouldn't defy the Lady's orders — but I wouldn't leave him out there either.

  He didn't move. Rain dripped steadily from his hair, his clothes, his hands.

  "It's her order." I didn't soften my voice. "I know we hate each other. But don't make my Lady suffer any longer with your stubbornness."

  He flinched. Though his expression didn't change, I could tell — he was worried about what the Lady thought of him.

  I guided him inside and handed him a warm, dry towel. He didn't speak — couldn't — but he followed every instruction the moment I mentioned it was the Lady's order.

  I made him shower. Fed him. Then sat him down to treat his accumulated wounds.

  He really did look like a dog waiting for its master.

  It was awkward — he couldn't speak, and his expression hadn't shifted from whatever it had settled into outside. He didn't flinch once as I worked through his injuries.

  Then I noticed him staring at the painting above the fireplace.

  Ah.

  I set down what I was holding and covered it without a word.

  He looked at me with confusion. I didn't acknowledge it. I kept working — but the silence thickened around us, and eventually I spoke.

  "That's the Konrow family portrait." I didn't look at him while I said it. "You were probably looking at Lady Adele. But Lady Nephi hates that painting more than anyone."

  He listened.

  "Lady Nephi spent her whole life trying to get her family to notice her. Every attempt ended in disappointment. Mock me all you want — but she gave everything she had trying to earn their affection, only to watch it go to an illegitimate child instead."

  The prince's expression darkened.

  "Yes, be angry. But it's the truth. Aren't all of you the same?" He bit his lip. "I know enough about the imperial family to guess why my Lady looked up to you. You achieved what she couldn't. You were someone she saw as a model — proof that it was possible."

  My grip tightened on the cloth. "And what did you do? You didn't just shatter her hope. You took away her last chance of reconciling with her family too." He stood — then sat back down when he had nothing to say.

  "Whatever you think of my Lady, I will always think of you as a scumbag." I pulled the bandages tighter than necessary.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "So when this is all over — get away from her." I stood, crossed to the door, and opened it. "Get some rest. And I hope you don't have a nice night."

  I closed the door firmly behind me.

  The Lady still wasn't well.

  Usually by 4 AM she'd be up — training, eating, moving. But her door hadn't opened. I prepared her meal anyway and knocked softly. "Lady, are you awake?"

  Silence. As expected.

  After a while, there was a knock at the mansion door instead. An unwelcome one, by the feel of it — but I still had to answer.

  I opened it.

  The messenger of Marquis Jhake. Stout, self-important, with a voice already tilted toward arrogance before he'd said a word.

  "Is Lady Josephine von Konrow available?"

  "She is not. She's unwell."

  He furrowed his brow as if this personally inconvenienced him. "I see." He held out a scroll. "The Marquis sends his apologies for missing their last meeting. And—" He produced an invitation letter from his pocket with some difficulty, "—he requests her presence at his party this week. Buhihihi!"

  Disgusting. Even his laugh was offensive. I accepted the letter, bowed, and shut the door as soon as he was gone.

  The Lady wouldn't attend. She never did. She treated the engagement as a formality — nothing more, nothing less. She respected the boundary and didn't overstep it.

  I slipped the letter under her door and turned back to the hallway.

  Another knock.

  Tsk. It was rare for the Lady to have a single guest. Two in one morning?

  The knocking grew more insistent. I marched over and yanked the door open.

  "Who might it—oh."

  Priests. Paladins. Several of them.

  "Is this the residence of Lady Josephine von Konrow?"

  "...Yes?"

  "Is the Lady available?"

  "No. She's not well."

  I already knew what they were here for. The Lady had told me about the incident at the cathedral weeks ago. "A new revelation has come to light—"

  A priest in more elaborate robes stepped forward. The others immediately bowed aside for him.

  "Your Lady was inside the cathedral when the revelation occurred," he said. "She is one of the potential witnesses we are following up with. Has she experienced any recent changes? Her hair color, for instance?"

  "No. My Lady has always had black hair."

  "I see…"

  "Pfft — as if a villainess could become a saint—"

  Before the paladin could finish, the high priest seized him by the head and drove it into the floor.

  The crack was very satisfying.

  "Insolence has no place in the divine presence of our gods." The paladin slumped, unconscious. The priest straightened and offered me a calm smile. "I apologize for the disrespect—"

  "Enough." My tone came out sharper than I planned. "How much more do you intend to mock my Lady?"

  The surrounding priests stirred. The high priest silenced them with one hand.

  "We apologize sincerely." He bowed — which visibly startled his own people. "We will return another day, when things have settled."

  I bowed in return, then closed the door.

  I waited until I was certain they'd gone, then swept the perimeter of the mansion carefully. Usually visitors like that left something behind — a listening stone, a marking, something.

  Nothing this time. They truly weren't interested in the Lady.

  Good.

  By the time I came back inside, it was nearly lunchtime. I headed to the kitchen to begin — and stopped.

  The prince was at the counter, peeling potatoes.

  "Excuse me. Who asked you to do that?"

  No response. He kept peeling.

  He's actually skilled. The other ingredients were already sorted and laid out beside him.

  I sighed. "Fine. I'm not stubborn enough to turn down help. Let's see what you've got."

  Today's menu was shepherd's pie with mashed potatoes. I had the recipe open on the counter.

  "Start with the pastry." He looked uncertain, but he kneaded the dough with careful hands. "The Lady likes it flaky," I added. He'd added a touch too much flour, but it was manageable.

  Next, the filling. Shepherd's pie is traditionally lamb, but the Lady prefers a blend — beef, lamb, pork. The demi-glace was already prepared. He made the Bolognese sauce with extra acidity, exactly how she likes it.

  I hadn't written that in the recipe.

  I said nothing.

  He assembled the pie simply — no flourishes, no decorative crust, just clean construction. It lacked complexity but had its own quiet charm. I let it go.

  Into the oven at low heat. One hour.

  Then the mashed potatoes. He boiled them fine, but the moment he started mashing — it was too aggressive, too rough. "No, no." I took the bowl from him and guided his hands. "The Lady likes them smooth. Creamy. Like this."

  As I demonstrated, her voice came back to me unbidden.

  "You don't know how to mash? Well, I'll teach you."

  I smiled before I could stop myself.

  "Make my Lady cry again and I'll kill you." It came out lighter than I intended. He couldn't answer — but something in his expression shifted into a look that said he understood, and meant it.

  "Is breakfast ready yet?"

  We both turned at the same time.

  She stood in the kitchen doorway — long white hair cascading over her shoulders, golden eyes catching the morning light. She was rubbing at her eyes, looking half-asleep.

  Then she noticed her hair.

  She stared at it for a long moment.

  Then she turned and bolted back to her room at a speed that was frankly alarming.

  The prince and I stood in the kitchen, perfectly still.

  I could do nothing but watch.