Chapter 11
“Has the village restoration been going well?”
“When I visited recently, it was a mess—so much tax money had been siphoned off.”
Using the restoration as an excuse to come and go allows access to the records and a chance to meddle in village affairs. But once the repairs are complete, that excuse no longer holds. The new lord’s people will probably ask politely to reduce the number of visits, subtly insisting they can manage things well enough on their own.
“Does the estate produce any regular local specialties?”
“There are some, but none are particularly well-known.”
“That’s fine. Even if they’re not famous, make sure the better-quality goods are sent to the main house. Use the excuse of inspecting their quality to make frequent visits—and keep an eye on things.”
“Wouldn’t that be too obvious?”
“It doesn’t matter if it is. In fact, it’s better if it’s obvious. That way, they’ll know they’re being watched. The specialties are produced steadily, so it’s not an excuse that’ll wear thin anytime soon.”
At her response, Glenn fell silent, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, Calliope was able to enjoy her meal without further interruption. She picked up each piece of the steak, already cut into bite-sized portions, and quietly ate—memories beginning to resurface one by one.
Although it wasn’t the most refined behavior, she preferred cutting her food all at once and eating piece by piece. But such conduct was unacceptable at the main estate—she would be scolded for lacking manners.
Back then, she had desperately tried to gain recognition from her family. She reviewed her tutor’s lessons to the point of nosebleeds and studied what no one taught her by burying herself in the library until her vision blurred. She had to become a lady befitting the family. Though in the end, it had all been for nothing.
“You don’t seem like a child, my lady.”
“I hear that a lot.”
Even as his words carried a certain weight, Calliope responded flatly. She could sense his piercing gaze, but she continued eating without a care. Let him stare all he wants—there’s no way he could suspect she had returned from the future.
“Indeed. You’re surprisingly clever for someone so young.”
Why did every word from his mouth make her want to scoff? The ideas she’d proposed weren’t exactly groundbreaking—though perhaps not something an uneducated child would think of, they were fairly straightforward for someone raised with a noble’s education. He simply assumed she was a noble-born lady with a proper upbringing, and thus his praise held little value.
“You’re quite generous with compliments. Now that I’ve finished my meal, I’ll go prepare to leave.”
“Already?”
“I must return to my family today without delay.”
“Oh? So you’re headed for the capital as well? Perhaps we’ll run into each other there.”
Calliope didn’t reply, merely offered a cursory farewell. She didn’t forget to nod in farewell to Dellen, who had quietly eaten beside Glenn. After confirming his return nod, she left the building. At the table, only the two men remained.
“Which family is she from?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of a young lady named Calliope.”
“Could be a lesser-known house.”
“I’ll look into it. But why are you so interested in her?”
With a flick of his finger, Glenn gestured toward the door Calliope had just exited.
“I thought she might make a fine daughter-in-law.”
“That’s… disturbing.”
“What? I’d make a good father-in-law, wouldn’t I?”
“Truly, that’s repulsive, my lord.”
Laughing, Glenn slipped off the blue ring from his right index finger. The image of a man with plain auburn hair and a gentle expression faded away. In its place, deep golden-blonde hair tinged with red fell over his cheek. His once unremarkable features sharpened—the eyes and brows became more defined, and his sturdy jaw turned sleek and chiseled.
The man, who looked to be in his late thirties, grinned mischievously like a playful rogue and rose to his feet.
“Let’s head straight back to the estate.”
“Huh? But I haven’t finished eating yet.”
“Then stuff it in and get moving.”
“Y-Yes, sir. No arguing with that.”
Life as his aide had always been hard. Rather than complain further, Dellen stuffed the last two pieces into his mouth. He chewed slowly to avoid indigestion, trailing after his lord like a disgruntled hamster.
They returned to their room and began packing their few belongings. Midway, Glenn spoke up as if something had just come to mind.
“Ah, send a letter to the estate ahead of us. Let’s set up a formal meeting—for my son to meet her.”
“But the young master won’t be pleased about this…”
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
“She doesn’t like you because you’re the Duke.”
“Then pray she doesn’t meet a father like me in her next life.”
Glayderth—the only Duke in the kingdom besides royalty—was in an unusually good mood and, for once, didn’t scold his aide. He was planning to drive away the opportunists lingering around his fifteen-year-old son, who were clearly trying to win favor.
Inside the dining hall, the servants stood in perfect formation like portraits hung evenly on a wall. The air was heavy with silence. The eldest son had left early in the morning to meet friends, and the second daughter usually couldn’t get up at this hour. As a result, breakfast was a quiet affair shared only between husband and wife.
Though noble marriages were often seen as unions between families rather than individuals, the way the couple sat across from one another at a long table, quietly eating without a word, felt cold and distant.
“Is that girl arriving today?”
The one who broke the silence was the Marchioness, Kyrke. A daughter of one of the kingdom’s only two ducal houses, she was a powerful force in her own right, and a crucial partner who had helped elevate Illan to his current position as Marquess.
Illan looked up from his plate to meet her gaze. She stared straight into his eyes with no hesitation at all, even though he stood over two meters tall. That woman, unshaken by his size or presence, was his wife.
“I believe we’ve already agreed on that.”
“I’m not suddenly opposing it. I just think, if someone new is joining the household, we should at least meet her face to face.”
“I said I’d make sure you wouldn’t need to worry about her.”
“That’s separate. A simple greeting wouldn’t hurt. A shared meal would be the perfect setting.”
Her expression remained cold and unreadable. Seeing no sign of hostility in her face, Illan eventually nodded. Even if she had another motive, it would be hard to deny her. After all, the Anastas marquisate’s power was split almost evenly down the middle—and that balance had been part of her condition for marrying him.
“Would tomorrow be better?”
He thought it would be kinder to let the girl rest for a day before meeting anyone. Illan gave a quiet nod and finished his meal. Kyrke, as if in perfect sync, set down her utensils at the same time, rose gracefully from her seat, and left the dining room with her attendants. As she reached the door, she turned slightly and spoke.
“I wonder how pretty she is.”
Spoken in a flat tone with a completely blank expression, it almost felt like a warning. Click. Only after Kyrke disappeared behind the closing door did Illan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. A man known to make others nervous with his towering presence, even he couldn’t help but stiffen like a new recruit in front of his wife.
As he stepped out of the dining hall, a waiting attendant walked beside him and reported smoothly.
“Everything has been taken care of, sir. The ordered dress hasn’t arrived yet, but we’ve received confirmation that it will be finished by early this afternoon.”
“Whatever happens, make sure she doesn’t feel deprived of anything materially.”
“Yes, sir.”
Illan strode toward his office. According to Jack Beckham’s report, Ithiel had died last year. Since then, Calliope had lived alone, under the care of the villagers.
Her request to transfer all her father’s assets into her name made some sense, and yet it didn’t. Ithiel, his former wife, had never been materialistic. But if she had lived in poverty after the divorce and exile from the family, perhaps she had changed.
He could barely recall what the child looked like—just a faint impression from when she was a baby. He had no real memory of her face and no way of knowing what kind of person she had become.
As the sun began to set, the carriage passed through the gates of the capital. Jack showed the marquis family’s seal, and the guards gave only a cursory inspection before waving them through.
While the power of a marquis didn’t match that of royalty or dukes, it was still nothing to scoff at. Calliope quietly began calculating how far she could push that authority, wondering just how much she could get away with under the Anastas name.
“Now that we’ve passed the gate, we’ll be arriving at the marquis’ estate shortly.”
Calliope simply gave a nod and turned to look out the window. The roads were smoother than any she had seen in the villages, and crowds bustled everywhere. Soon after passing the city gates, elegant and well-maintained buildings came into view. They had entered the noble district.
The chaotic noise of the commoner areas vanished as if cut off by a line. Now, the scenery outside looked like something out of a painting—refined, pristine, and almost too perfect. It was so lifeless in its beauty that Calliope soon turned away, bored.
“There are a few things you should know before we arrive.”
She could already guess what he was going to say, but gave a small nod to humor Jack.
“First, you’ll meet the Marquess right away. It’s unlikely you’ll run into the other family members, but if you do, avoid causing any problems. Second, I know you grew up in the countryside like a commoner, but don’t let the servants intimidate you. Actually… never mind, you probably don’t need that advice. Just keep being yourself. Third—and this one is important—if you happen to run into an old man, don’t look back. Just run. That’s all.”
Calliope smirked. The last part may have seemed random, but she knew exactly who he was referring to—Ditron.
That man was a petty coward, greedy and cunning, who only knew how to bow to the strong and trample the weak.
