Chapter 15
“My lady, the butler is here.”
“Let him in.”
“Good morning, Lady Calliope. I was told you summoned me.”
The butler entered, a man with neatly combed silver hair and a well-trimmed beard, bowing politely as the maid opened the door for him. Calliope didn’t immediately grant him permission to raise his head. Instead, she sat and calmly studied the top of his bowed head for several long seconds.
Finally, just as Susan began to look confused, Calliope responded with feigned surprise.
“Oh—yes, you may lift your head. It’s nothing much. I want everything from the annex room moved into this one.”
The butler straightened, briefly narrowing his eyes.
“I was informed of the request, my lady, but…”
Calliope opened her palm and examined her nails with exaggerated indifference, then spoke sharply, her tone pointed.
“If you were informed, shouldn’t you have come to tell me directly? You could’ve checked if the room was missing anything, or if it was the right time to move things. Especially considering I’ve only been here a day. Does the butler not bother to look after the newest member of the household unless ordered through a maid?”
“My sincerest apologies, my lady. I failed to uphold my responsibilities.”
The butler, Hansen, bowed again with a calm and composed voice. Calliope sighed slowly, her eyes trailing over his impeccably tailored uniform.
Hansen wasn’t the kind of man to intentionally cause trouble—but as a long-serving butler in the Marquess’s household, he was proud. Deeply loyal to Illan, he followed his master’s word to the letter. That loyalty also translated into quiet disdain for those he felt lacked noble decorum.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make things difficult for me again. If there’s nothing on the schedule for today, I’ll be spending time in the library. Is there anything else I should know?”
A faint look of unease crept onto Hansen’s perfectly composed face. Calliope noticed—and scoffed openly.
“There will be a family dinner this evening.”
Calliope glanced at the clock. It was already ten in the morning—she had dressed, washed up, and enjoyed a light tea. Far too late for what should’ve been a morning report. Hansen, of course, was well aware of that.
If this had been a sudden addition to the schedule, it might be excusable. But—
“When was that decided?”
“It had been scheduled before your arrival, my lady.”
Calliope’s voice grew colder.
“I understand that you’re a busy man, and I know my father doesn’t expect you to personally report everything to me. But knowing the situation, how could you do nothing and leave me in the dark? Am I to assume my father told you to treat me this way?”
“…I have no excuse.”
“I’m not going to make a big deal out of it today. Just don’t let it happen again. From now on, relay anything related to family events through Susan or Jack Beckham.”
“Understood. Shall I arrange to have your belongings moved now?”
“That would be best. I’ll need something to wear for the dinner. Where is my father?”
“The Marquess has been in his office since breakfast. He does have a lunch appointment, so now would be the best time to see him. Would you like me to inform him?”
“No, I’ll go myself.”
Calliope stood and called for Susan, who hurried to her side.
“Let’s not have this happen again.”
“I’ll be more careful, my lady.”
“You’re dismissed. I need to speak with my father.”
Hansen bowed deeply again before exiting the room. He closed the door quietly behind him, then loosened his collar ever so slightly.
Truthfully, saying he hadn’t looked down on the girl raised as a commoner would be a lie. He had expected someone without manners, without any sense of nobility.
Hansen glanced back at the door.
“She looks just like the former Marchioness, but her personality’s completely different.”
She wasn’t like the Marquess, either. Illan was strict, yes, but blunt and somewhat unobservant. This girl—his daughter—was sharp. Precise. Like a needle honed to a point.
For the first time in years, Hansen found himself thinking about Lady Ithiel.
She had come from a humble family, but she had carried herself with grace. She had been kind, generous, and every bit a noblewoman. Hansen had trusted in Illan’s judgment, but the foolish old nobles of the household had driven her away.
“At least the current Marchioness managed to drive most of them out.”
There were still a few leeches hanging on, of course.
Shaking his head, Hansen turned away. The sooner he got her things moved, the better—he had no intention of upsetting the young lady any further.
Before leaving, Calliope had Susan fix her hair once more. Though none of her accessories had been moved over yet, her delicate, snow-white strands—fine as spider silk—looked almost ethereal with just a proper brushing. Calliope looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, then quietly rose and made her way out of the room.
The servants who bowed to her wore expressions difficult to read. Their emotions flickered—uncertainty, confusion, maybe even doubt. She was their superior in rank, yes—but still a stranger. A presence they didn’t yet know how to treat. Calliope, her face cold and unreadable, passed by them without so much as a glance.
“My lord, Lady Calliope has arrived.”
Susan, the interim maid, knocked in her place and announced her visit. A moment later, a voice from inside gave permission, and the door opened. Illan sat behind his desk, dressed differently than yesterday but wearing the same unchanging expression. The mountain of paperwork before him was tall enough to nearly reach Calliope’s chin.
“I came to ask a favor.”
“Speak.”
There was no greeting, no pleasantries. Calliope skipped straight to the point, and Illan responded just as bluntly. The servants standing behind each of them shifted uncomfortably at their sharp, unorthodox exchange.
“I want to get used to the household quickly. I’d like to begin studying with tutors as soon as possible—especially one for etiquette.”
“I’ve already started making arrangements.”
“I’d like to choose the tutors myself.”
For the first time since she entered, Illan lifted his gaze from the papers and looked at her directly.
“And what would you know about that?”
“Why don’t you take a look at the list of names I suggest before you say no?”
He stared at her in silence for a few seconds, then nodded.
“Fine.”
It was an odd conversation. Her tone was calm—dry, even—but her words were boldly impertinent for a daughter speaking to her father, especially a Marquess. And yet Illan, despite his dismissive tone, made no effort to refuse her request.
“Paper.”
Calliope walked up to his desk and gestured toward his servant. Startled, the man handed her a blank sheet and a pen. Without hesitation, she began writing out a list of names. Her handwriting, light and fluid yet elegant, carried the distinct polish of someone long accustomed to noble life.
Illan, however, was less focused on her handwriting and more on the names she was writing.
“I know some of these will be difficult to contact. But I’d really appreciate it if you tried.”
“I’ll do my best to arrange it.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you again at dinner.”
Just like that, their second meeting ended—clean, quick, and without attachment. Calliope turned and left the room without hesitation, and Illan simply returned to his documents without calling her back.
The servants who had witnessed the scene all came to the same conclusion: the new young lady, who looked so much like the former Marchioness, was like a perfect copy of the Marquess himself.
If Calliope had heard that, she would have scoffed—then burst into laughter.
She made her way directly to the library. She had no desire to run into any other members of the Anastas family today—people who would soon, at least legally, become her kin. She also needed quiet, uninterrupted time to think.
The reason she had brought up tutors the moment she saw her father this morning was simple:
She couldn’t let Ditron Anastas pull any of his usual tricks.
In her previous life, she had naively accepted all the tutors her father arranged for her. Only later did she find out that half of them were planted by Ditron. He had manipulated things carefully, so subtly that even Illan hadn’t noticed—and it had taken Calliope a long time to realize it herself.
“To think someone would go that far just to mess with a child. What a small, petty man.”
The lessons hadn’t just been strict. She had been scolded constantly, and on more than one occasion, even struck. Having no idea how nobles were usually taught, she assumed that was just how it was—and blamed herself for not being good enough. That was why she studied obsessively, staying up all night trying to keep up.
Her attention drifted to a fencing theory book nearby. Curious, she pulled it off the shelf and began reading. She had sent Susan to bring tea and told her not to return until she was called, so the sunlit library was quiet—just Calliope and a dainty porcelain teacup.
In that stillness, surrounded by the scent of paper, she felt something close to peace. The person she used to miss… had smelled like this too.
But the quiet didn’t last.
Creak. The door opened.
It was Jack.
“My lady, so this is where you were.”
His face looked fresher than earlier, and when she glanced at the clock, she realized it was already one o’clock—the time they’d agreed to meet.
“Time flies, doesn’t it?”
“I checked your room and walked in circles for a while trying to find you.”
“You could’ve just asked a passing servant.”
“I remembered that… after circling about three times.”
Still sleep-deprived, she thought. Calliope sighed and set down the fencing book she had just finished reading. Jack noticed the cover and, with a slight frown, asked,
“You’re interested in fencing?”
“I am. You’re not, are you?”
“How did you know?”
Because I’ve dealt with you before, she thought but didn’t say aloud. Instead, she simply nodded toward the seat across from her.
Jack, without hesitation, sat down.
