Chapter 50
“Uh…?”
As she woke up, still groggy, Mel dashed into the dressing room, yanked the wardrobe open… crack. She broke it in the process.
“What’s that sound…? What are you doing?”
“Why is this thing so flimsy?”
Flustered, Mel threw the broken metal hook onto the floor and grabbed some random clothes before returning.
“Put these on, quickly.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“I’m hungry…”
“What?”
Even in her half-asleep state, Hermia’s face showed disbelief as Mel placed a pair of slippers at her feet and whined.
“We ate all the cookies and bread last night! There’s nothing left.”
Hermia looked at the party dress Mel had brought, then put on a cardigan hanging on the sofa.
“There are plenty of ingredients in the kitchen. You can make something.”
“I don’t know how to cook…”
Ah. With a short sigh, Hermia nodded as if she understood.
It had been relatively peaceful since the commotion yesterday morning. After Walter was carried away and Hermia heard Mel’s story, she cleaned up the dining room and organized the mountain of food ingredients.
Then she fed Mel, bathed her, fed her again, and put her to bed in the Countess’s bed.
After collapsing from exhaustion, she woke up this morning, or rather, in the late morning.
She had slept well, but as soon as she got up, she had to feed Mel again. It seemed like she had some dream, but her memory was already fuzzy.
She put aside the unclear memories and left the room.
Mel followed Hermia as she headed not to the kitchen but to the entrance.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the mail.”
Hermia recalled Philip’s advice as she exited through the newly repaired front door.
The sky was clearer than ever, and the sun was already hot, even though it was still morning.
“This summer is going to be hot,” she muttered, stretching.
As she passed through the garden and reached the front gate, she thought:
‘If I opened this gate, would those caramel bastards leap out and arrest me?’
But she was in her pajamas and didn’t have any luggage. Despite feeling a bit anxious, she smiled at Mel.
“Mel, can you go get the mail for me?”
“No? I don’t want to. What if I get caught?”
She remembers. Damn it,
Hermia awkwardly smiled and opened the gate quietly. She glanced around cautiously, her eyes darting back and forth, even though it was just a few steps.
The newspaper was sticking out of the mailbox, and she quickly grabbed it. Along with the newspaper, she also caught sight of a shiny letter envelope and snatched that too.
As she rushed back inside, panting, the street was peaceful, with sparrows chirping and people passing by.
She thought, “I guess it’s okay,” while looking at the luxurious letter envelope with a gold seal.
“Hmm?”
It was a letter from the Rockford family. Carefully, she opened the seal marked with an ‘R,’ holding the newspaper under her arm.
[Please forgive my rudeness.
—Walter Rockford.]
The letter was short, written in neat handwriting, but missing some letters. She checked the envelope, but there was nothing else inside.
“What is this…?”
“What’s wrong?”
Mel peeked at the content and shivered.
“Rip it up! Throw it away right now!”
Hermia folded the letter neatly and put it back in the envelope, avoiding Mel’s commotion.
‘At least he’s okay. That’s a relief.’
Despite the noise, she let out a sigh of relief. She couldn’t forget the conversation between the workers fixing the door and the floor that Mel had damaged.
“Did someone fire a cannon or something?”
“It doesn’t seem like it. Looks like it was hit with a sledgehammer.”
Given Mel’s strength, which could rival a cannon or a large hammer, if she had pushed with all her might, an ordinary person would have been seriously injured.
But since Walter could write a letter, it seemed his bones weren’t broken. The content was relatively coherent, despite the missing letters.
“Go to the kitchen and think about what you want to eat. I’ll make it.”
Hermia left Mel and went upstairs to her room. She placed Walter’s letter in a metal box on the bathroom counter where she kept emergency funds.
“It’s just one letter… It should be fine. A little keepsake.”
* * *
After washing her face and changing into indoor clothes, Hermia went downstairs to the kitchen. Mel was there, holding a basket of eggs.
“Miss, let’s make a soufflé!”
Of all things, it had to be a soufflé again. She hadn’t wanted to think about it.
“Okay, let’s eat. Soufflé!”
She declared it boldly, but she wasn’t sure if she could recreate what Walter had made.
Her eyesight was good, so maybe she could manage somehow. Hermia rolled up her sleeves and put on an apron.
“All right, you’re going to whisk the egg whites until they’re fluffy like cream. Add sugar little by little as you go.”
She didn’t have high expectations for Mel, so she gave her the simplest task. Even a child could just whisk.
As Mel nodded enthusiastically, Hermia handed her a bowl and began preparing other ingredients. Before even a few seconds passed, Mel called out.
“Um, Miss.”
“Eh?”
“Do you have any other bowls…?”
Mel held the dented tin bowl awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.
“Oh, just put it on the table and do it!”
Hermia wiped the sweat while loading dishes onto a trolley, deciding to clean up the devastated kitchen later. Most of the damage was done by Mel.
As she glanced back, she saw Mel’s handprints on the bowl and whisk handle. It was like a dinosaur had been there…
Despite the chaos, she felt somewhat proud of their first attempt at making a soufflé. The moderately puffed, golden-brown cake, warm milk, and strongly brewed tea made for a decent brunch.
“Wow! I can’t believe I made this!”
Mel’s first reaction after tasting the soufflé was pure delight. At least it tasted good, Hermia thought, feeling proud of how far they’d come. Maybe she was one step closer to realizing her dream of owning a bakery.
“We wasted about a dozen eggs and half the dough, but it turned out okay.”
The wasted ingredients were a result of Mel trying to help. How had Mel survived without getting hurt until now?
“Eat more.”
Hermia took a bite and smiled in satisfaction. The sound of forks clinking echoed through the dining room.
“But it’s weird…”
“What’s weird?”
After taking a sip of milk tea and setting down his cup, Mel fidgeted with his fingers.
“The seat you’re sitting in, Miss, is the master’s seat. It feels strange with you there. Oh! I don’t mean it’s bad!”
Hermia chuckled at Mel’s hasty gestures.
“But you’re sitting in the Countess’s seat.”
“This is my seat now! I hate that woman. I wish she’d drown in a resort. She’s a cheapskate! A witch!”
“To you, she’s your aunt. Right? To me, she’s my stepmother, so… your step-aunt? Aunt-stepmother?”
“Ahh! Don’t say such terrible things!”
Hermia laughed mischievously but stopped when she realized something.
“Mel, now that you’re not a maid, when will you stop calling me ‘Miss’? Just call me by my name.”
Mel also stopped, pouting.
It’s just… I’m not used to it yet. Besides, you still call me Mel.”
“Ah, you’re right. Your name is Melissa. Sorry.”
“Take your time… But still, even if things have changed, we’re cousins at the end of the day.”
As she spoke, Mel’s fork bent in half due to her uncontrolled strength. Hermia handed her a new one from a spare set.
“Hey, Mel… I mean, Melissa. Get your identity back and return to being Melissa Vansen.”
“Huh?”
Hermia gestured to the chair and smiled wistfully.
“Your parents would want that too. You’ll regain your title, and what our father took was originally meant for you.”
“But will Uncle give it back?”
“He might not, so we’ll have to take it back.”
Hermia recalled Walter’s words from when she was drunk at the duke’s estate and leaned back in her chair.
“He said we could get it back through a lawsuit.”
“But we might lose…”
“Not if you’ve got strong backing. You’ve got one, you know. A really strong one.”
Mel realized Hermia was referring to Walter and stood up abruptly.
“I won’t trust him! I won’t believe him! His grandfather killed my parents!”
Mel rushed out of the dining room, her eyes welling up with tears. As she left, the door made an unusual sound, but Hermia didn’t notice.
Mel still feared and distrusted Walter.
Hermia rested her elbows on the table, burying her face in her hands and letting out a deep sigh.
Her feelings about Walter, the runaway author, and Mel’s unbelievable story—none of it seemed to be resolving. It felt like being trapped in a maze with no exit.
“But one thing is certain.”
Her plan to pawn Mel off on Walter and get money from the princess had fallen apart. How could she send Mel back to the Duke’s estate now? She couldn’t even lie anymore.
“Has the author been caught yet?”
With a troubled face, Hermia picked up the newspaper she had carelessly thrown on the table. As she unfolded it, she almost fell over.
[Joel Bright, Wanted for Espionage. The Author Was Actually a Spy!]
She stood up straight and quickly read the article, covering her face with her hands before moving them to her neck. The word “military” stood out clearly among the small print.
The implication was clear: Walter had personally taken action to catch the author.
Hermia calmed her racing heart and left the room. She rushed through the creaky door to the Countess’s bedroom, where she had lent Mel, holding the newspaper tightly in her right hand.
If they caught the real author of the novel, Mel might start trusting Walter. Then she could pawn Mel off on him again and lie to the princess.
It was a perfect opportunity to lift the curse and get the money.
“Mel! Read this article! I’ve finally found a way to escape all this!”
“Escape?”
Ah. She’d messed up.
