Near the end of the meal, the Duke announced he would be away on business. Then he ordered the butler to bring out the numerous congratulatory letters and gifts that had arrived for our marriage.
I was simply delighted by the words “leaving the house” and “gifts.”
More shiny things?!
Meanwhile, Eric looked uneasy. While the Duke was briefly absent, he lowered his head and whispered to me,
“We’ll need to receive guests soon. Think you can handle it?”
“Isn’t it just about greasing palms with money and serving delicious food?”
At my simple response, Eric gave me a look as if I’d just given him a headache.
“...Do you know how to respond to letters?”
I rolled my eyes.
Respond... to letters? We have to write replies too...?
Excitedly, I paused tearing open a gift and picked up one of the letters, sliding it toward Eric.
“...Thank you... for the gift?”
Upon hearing that, Eric immediately motioned to the butler.
As the butler approached, Eric spoke quietly.
“The young madam is not yet well-versed in the art of noble correspondence,” the Duke said coolly. “Do instruct her properly. Not only that—ensure she is taught the rites and decorum of the social cultivation circle as well.”
Teach? Me? The very word ‘instruction’ makes my skin crawl!
I shot a fierce glare at Eric, but he merely met my resistance with a gentle smile, deflecting my fury with annoying grace.
“In accordance with the traditions of this stronghold,” Eric said, now adopting a more formal and courtly tone, “it is the Lady of the house who must respond to letters addressed to the residence. Therefore, it must be you.”
His sudden shift in speech made me grind my teeth. He didn’t even call me ‘wife’—shouldn’t that at least count for something?
“We’re
both
married, so why is it only me writing the letters?!”
They were congratulatory scrolls celebrating
our
union! I should just take the gifts and leave the replies to him, shouldn’t I?
“If you must know the reason, perhaps consult the heavens in prayer,” Eric muttered low enough that only I could hear, jaw clenched tight. “But even saints must play the part if they wish to avoid being cast out of the circle…”
Ah, so that’s it…
I sighed. This was another one of those social cultivation trials. Why must high society have so many absurd rules? They uphold etiquette like law, yet most of them aren’t even morally upright to begin with. It was just another test—another scheme of the Duke.
I recalled the Duke’s crimson eyes. If I made a mess of things in his absence, he would surely return to torment me with it later.
I leaned toward Eric and whispered, exhausted, “You’ll still help me, right? In secret?”
My eyes sparkled with hope as I looked up at him—only for the Duke to return at that exact moment.
He glanced at us standing close, a strange smile twitching at his lips.
“Eric. Go with me now and settle that matter regarding the Hollande contract.”
A contract?!
Only then did I realize the Duke was trying to separate Eric from me on purpose.
I gripped Eric’s hand tightly.
Don’t go… Don’t leave me here alone…
Eric exhaled heavily and leaned in close to whisper, “Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with Lily and the steward. You’ll be fine.”
I turned to see the ever-smiling steward and Lily, whose expression practically screamed,
Don’t even think about asking me for help.
Damn it…! First day of our marriage and I’m to be left alone in this massive estate?
I snapped my head toward the Duke and glared daggers at him. His expression was one of smug amusement, and the other attendants mirrored his scorn.
Fine. Let’s see who blinks first.
Clenching my teeth, I reached out and curled my arm around Eric’s waist.
“What are you—”
I tightened my grip as if to prevent his escape, rose slightly onto my toes, and pressed a bold kiss to his cheek.
“Do come back soon,
dearest
. Ohohoho~”
“…”
Eric’s expression twisted at the word
dearest
, as though I’d hurled molten fire at his face. He touched his cheek as if it burned.
I mouthed silently,
This was tactical. Ex. ter. nal. cir. cum. stan. ces.
The steward, who had been watching this little act unfold, spoke in awe.
“Ah… Such newlywed bliss…”
But the rest of the servants—and especially the Duke—had expressions that twisted with discomfort. As soon as the Duke frowned, the steward quickly wiped the joy from his face and bowed his head low.
Still clinging to Eric’s arm, I met the Duke’s gaze with a silent challenge.
If it’s a test you want, then let the trials begin.
‘It wasn’t so bad… up until then.’
Up to the moment Eric left for his outing, the steward—his light brown hair neatly combed back until it was almost golden—had been wearing a warm and gentle smile.
He told me that I must reply to most of the letters by the end of the night.
It was the height of the social season, and if I didn’t receive at least ten invitations within a few days, the reputation of the ducal clan would plummet into the earth.
In other words, responding to the letters was something Eric couldn’t do in my place to begin with.
‘...Seriously? The clan’s honor falls because of
that
?’
The so-called honor of noble sects was utterly trivial.
Anyway, that steward—whose name I still didn’t know—seemed to be the most favorable person toward me in the household.
Which was strange, considering stewards normally become one with the household they serve, treating the honor of their master as their own.
‘...At the social gatherings I used to attend, the stewards disrespected me even more than the hosts did...’
So why was
this
one being so nice to me? Suspicious.
Still, the important part is: even
he
began to crack once we sat down in the study to begin letter writing.
“We don’t use the term ‘meal’—you must say ‘banquet,’ Madam.”
“Young Madam, your cursive script is... truly unfortunate.”
“No! Madam, that’s not what I meant—!”
“The wax isn’t even melted yet—!”
“...Please rewrite it.”
“...I beg you, Madam...”
“I heard that insult just now.”
“That was merely a colloquialism, Madam!”
“Heavens, have mercy...”
The steward’s smile faded. And then faded again. Until there was nothing left. In its place now dwelled resignation, horror, sorrow (?), and despair.
“You’ve... never practiced cursive before?”
At last, he asked hesitantly. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his robes and offered it to me.
That’s when I finally saw my reflection in the polished paperweight: ink was smeared all under my nose.
I wiped it away with the handkerchief and muttered,
“Well... I haven’t really done much writing in my life anyway...”
Who had the time to write?
Ever since fleeing the Byolrod Trading Sect with nothing but my bare hands, I’d been living on the run, doing all sorts of shady work for loan sharks. After that, I escaped again and lived for a while in a mountainside hut, surviving on tree roots—until I got caught
again
...
Anyway, letters, ink, scrolls—none of that ever had a place in my life. The witch had taught me how to
read
secret ledgers, sure—but not how to
write
them.
“Then how will you manage the clan’s ledgers...? Tomorrow the branch elders will come to formally transfer the family accounts to your name.”
The steward looked deeply troubled.
I just beamed brightly and said,
“I’m great at reading ledgers! Seriously!”
“...?”
“I’m way better with numbers than I am with words.”
“...”
“You’re giving me that look like you don’t believe me.”
This man... It’s only been two hours and he’s already lost every ounce of trust in me.
“I just need a short break...”
My arm felt like it was going to fall off. And yet I hadn’t finished a single letter.
All thanks to this steward’s
absurdly strict
standards for penmanship!
You’d think a wealthy household would at least offer a snack before forcing someone to work like this!
Putting on my most pitiful expression, I looked up at him pleadingly.
He only shook his head.
“You said the same thing earlier and then slacked off for thirty whole minutes, Madam.”
...Huh?
Did I do that?
Chapter 51