Chapter 6: The Man Who Accepts and The Man Who Puts On
“Merran got caught by the guards?”
Classie nearly spat out the vegetable soup she was drinking.
Her maid, Anna, quickly handed her a handkerchief.
Dabbing the corners of her mouth with the handkerchief, Classie furrowed her brows.
“How did that happen?”
Unfortunately, the first thing that came to Classie’s mind was a scandalous affair.
‘No way… She’s always gone after the men I take an interest in.’
From what Classie had observed, Merran wasn’t interested in the men themselves. As soon as she managed to ruin Classie’s romantic prospects, she would dump the men herself.
And after all that, she would return to Classie with her usual affectionate and lovable demeanor, clinging to her like a chick following its mother.
So, she couldn’t have been making advances on some noblewoman’s husband.
“The Rayburton family’s party yesterday. Ugh. You two shouldn’t have gone. Something went missing there.”
Thankfully, it wasn’t a romantic scandal. But it was still unexpected. Classie set the handkerchief down and frowned once more.
“Merran doesn’t have a habit of stealing.”
“Of course not, my lady. Why would our Lady Merran ever need to steal from someone else’s house?”
That was true. Merran received an allowance from Classie’s parents, from her second eldest sister, and even from her older brothers.
Moreover, her biological father, Marquess Omel, had never taken responsibility for raising her, but he still sent her a generous sum of money every month.
Classie lost her appetite, setting down her cup and waving a hand dismissively.
“I can’t eat anymore. Take it away.”
“My lady, you’ve only had three sips of soup.”
“How am I supposed to eat when she’s been taken away? I have no appetite.”
“You’ve been bedridden with a high fever until now. You need to eat something to regain your strength.”
Anna tried to persuade her, but Classie truly didn’t have the energy to swallow even a single bite. Checking the time, she got up.
“How long has she been gone? Did you send anyone after her?”
“I sent Ledon, but he couldn’t even get past the main gate. Lady Merran’s been gone for about an hour or two—”
Anna’s voice was cut off by the sound of someone knocking on the front door.
“She must be back!”
Anna jumped excitedly and rushed down the hallway and staircase.
Classie tried to follow, but her body still felt sluggish. Before she could even reach the door, her legs gave out, and she stumbled.
In the end, she gave up on going outside and sank onto the sofa. If Merran had returned, Anna would bring her the news soon enough.
As expected, Anna returned a short while later.
“My lady, hide!”
But Anna said something strange upon returning.
“Huh?”
Classie, who had been resting her chin on her hand with her eyes closed, looked at Anna in confusion. Hide?
“It’s the palace guards. They’ve come back.”
“What about Merran?”
“She’s not here. Only the guards came back! And there are a lot more of them this time!”
Anna glanced nervously behind her, as if afraid they might chase after her.
Ordinary soldiers couldn’t just barge into a noble’s estate, but the palace guards were different. They answered only to the emperor.
The emperor loved flaunting his power, and the palace guards were one of his favorite tools.
He let them treat nobles disrespectfully and then shrugged it off with the excuse, ‘They’re my subordinates, but they’re difficult to control.’
“What the hell is going on?”
Classie still felt dizzy, but she forced herself to stand. She grabbed the cane leaning against her wardrobe.
Anna’s eyes widened.
“My lady, don’t tell me you’re going to—”
“It’s fine.”
Classie headed toward the door, but Anna blocked her path.
“Why?” (C)
“I think Lady Merran has been falsely accused. And you might get dragged into it, too.” (A)
Anna’s expression was grim. Classie raised an eyebrow.
“That’s exactly why I need to go out there.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go out there! We don’t even know what she’s being accused of yet. And this isn’t our hometown. The capital is full of nobles like us.”
“So we should just leave her?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you both don’t need to be arrested. Someone has to figure out what’s going on.”
Anna glanced behind her again, then stepped closer and grabbed Classie’s hand with a desperate look.
“My lady, you should leave through the back door. Lady Florence’s house is right next door. Her husband works in the palace, doesn’t he? If you ask her, she can find out what’s going on. If it’s a false accusation, she can help clear Merran’s name. Please, my lady—go to Lady Florence.”
Anna was a strong, spirited woman. She had always been by Classie and Merran’s side—when they were children and even now.
It was rare for Anna to be afraid. When Classie or Merran hesitated, Anna was the one who pushed them forward, telling them to just do it.
But today, she was telling Classie to run.
“…Alright.”
Classie wasn’t as wary of the palace guards as Anna was. But given her current condition, she decided to follow Anna’s advice.
She was still in her nightclothes, hadn’t even washed her face, and her hair was a sweaty mess. Her mind wasn’t working properly either.
She couldn’t face the people who had taken Merran away looking like this.
“Hurry.”
Anna urged her again.
Classie threw on a thick winter cloak over her nightclothes. It wasn’t too cold yet, but she needed to cover up.
Anna went down the main stairs alone to draw attention away.
Meanwhile, Classie used her cane and slipped out, bypassing the main staircase and heading toward the right end of the hallway. There was a small side staircase leading to the kitchen.
But as she descended halfway down the stairs, she heard unfamiliar male voices from below.
Guards?
The palace guards had come here too!
They were known for disregarding etiquette and rummaging through noble homes as they pleased. And now, they had entered without permission.
Just what kind of mess has Merran gotten involved in?
Classie paused on the landing and looked out the window, trying to see the back door.
If the guards were already there, she wouldn’t try to escape that way, no matter how disheveled she was.
But she could only see part of the area—half of it was blocked by the window frame.
With no other choice, Classie went up on her toes and leaned forward slightly to get a better look.
At that moment—
Her heel cramped, her body jerked uncontrollably, and she tumbled out of the window.
“Ugh!”
Thankfully, there was a wide decorative ledge beneath the window, and she landed on it with a thud. Clutching her aching tailbone, she looked up at the window she had fallen from.
‘Why did I do that.’
It was high up. Normally, she could climb back up, but in her current state, it was impossible.
‘But I can’t just jump straight down from here either…’
As she pondered her next move, she noticed a long rope hanging down from the roof. A small wooden board was attached at the top—likely a setup for window cleaners.
‘I’ll use that to climb down.’
After estimating the height, she made up her mind and grabbed the rope.
Classie was good at climbing ropes. Even though she wasn’t in great condition, her arms were still strong. And it wasn’t too high—if she was careful, she was confident she could land safely.
After that, rather than forcing strength into her legs, Classie relied on her hands and carefully but quickly descended the rope.
However, as she passed by the first-floor window, she caught sight of her own ridiculous reflection. The real problem was that she wasn’t the only one reflected in the glass.
Her eyes widened as she glanced downward. A sleepy-looking silver-haired man stood below with his arms outstretched as if ready to catch her, smiling serenely.
The moment their eyes met, the silver-haired man spoke kindly.
“Hurry down. I won’t drop you.”
At the sound of his voice, Classie immediately recognized him.
“Kishin?”
It was the same bloodied man who had hijacked the carriage last night.
The man gave a subtle smile at her words.
In an instant, Classie understood the situation. It seemed that all of this had happened because this scoundrel was abusing his authority to retrieve his identification.
Realizing the truth, she was dumbfounded.
‘No way, he could’ve just come and asked for it back!’
Fury surged within her. Because of this man, she had fallen ill yesterday and ended up in this ridiculous predicament today. Overcome with anger, she swung her slipper-clad foot toward him.
Unfortunately, the slipper didn’t even graze the man’s hair, landing with a dull thud on the ground instead.
The silver-haired man chuckled as he watched the pink fuzzy slipper roll across the grass.
“You really trust me, huh? Guess you don’t need slippers since I’m carrying you?”
Then, pointing at the slipper still on her foot, he teased, “Why not throw that one too?”
Ignoring him, Classie instead started climbing back up the rope.
She was so enraged that she completely forgot her legs weren’t in proper condition. All she could think about was grabbing the ID and throwing it right into that bastard’s forehead.
That was a grave mistake.
She tried to move as she normally would, but her legs wouldn’t respond at all. Unable to balance her strength between her hands and legs, she lost her grip—
—and plummeted.
“Ahhh!”
She realized her mistake too late. The mansion flipped out of view, the sky filling her vision.
And then, an angel appeared.
A man with dazzling red hair, so strikingly beautiful that he could only be a celestial being.
Classie blinked, hands awkwardly outstretched. She was utterly confused. Had she fallen to her death? It hadn’t seemed high enough to be fatal.
Just then, a sharp pain shot through her waist and thighs, followed by a burning sensation in her palms. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
And then, the angel spoke.
“Must I continue holding her?”
His cold, low voice sounded less like an angel’s and more like a devil’s whisper.
Classie inhaled sharply, finally grasping the situation.
She wasn’t dead.
The handsome man had caught her mid-fall.
Laughter rang out beside her. She turned her head to see the silver-haired man standing off to the side—apparently, he had moved away just in time. A sly bastard indeed.
When their eyes met again, the silver-haired man picked up the slipper from the ground and, as if slotting a newspaper into a stand, slipped it back onto her foot.
Then, with a smirk, he tattled,
“Kishin, it’s her. She’s the one who took your ID.”