Chapter 22
At Ditron’s angry outburst, the servant clumsily stumbled out of the room. Ditron let out a sharp breath, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up inside him. As always, anger brought with it a stabbing pain in his chest. He pressed hard on his temples and took a few sips of herbal tea.
“If I can just win over that girl, I’ll be able to return to the main estate.”
Life in the annex was unbearable for someone in his condition. There were too few servants, his allowance was meager, and the rooms were plain and poorly furnished. He was convinced his declining health was due to this dusty, lifeless annex.
“They’ll probably assign her a business, too.”
In the Marquisate, every direct descendant was given a business to manage as soon as they came of age. The family would evaluate how well they ran it, and their standing within the house would be decided accordingly. Only by producing successful results could one secure a stronger position in the family and be entrusted with more.
This system had originally applied only to the sons who wouldn’t inherit the title, but Circe had decreed that both sons and daughters would follow this process. That meant Calliope would be assigned a business as well.
“I didn’t like it at the time, but it’s proving useful now.”
No newly adult heir could manage a business alone. Naturally, advisors and mentors were assigned. Ditron had his eyes on that position. Typically, other elders from the family were chosen for the role—but now that Circe had purged them all, he was practically the only one left.
Trying to latch onto Circe’s children was a dead end. She had made it crystal clear that she’d be using people from the Duke’s house to guide them. Ditron had no opening there.
“To think she would entrust the education of the Marquisate’s heirs to her own family—what a farce.”
Circe was obviously making her move to devour the household from within. And foolish Illan had cast aside someone like him—someone who could actually help the family. Winning Calliope over to gain that mentor position was now more than strategy. It was survival.
“Five years…”
He recalled what the outsider healer had dared to say about his remaining lifespan. I am a noble of the Marquisate, he reminded himself. He could not, would not, die in this backwater annex. He had to breathe his last in the main house, in his rightful quarters, and be buried in the noble family tomb beside the other direct descendants. That was his pride, his meaning. It was non-negotiable.
“Elder, we’ve found where Lady Calliope is,” the servant reported just then.
Ditron grabbed the cane resting against the sofa and rose to his feet.
“Let’s go.”
The servant looked at him with a wary expression, wondering what trouble he planned to stir this time. But when their eyes met, he quickly lowered his head and moved to support the old man.
Calliope, despite her injury, had gone out to the garden that lay between the main house and the annex. From a distance, Ditron spotted the glint of her silver hair and clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. What’s with that hair color? She really is defective.”
“They say it turned that way due to emotional shock,” the servant offered carefully.
“Did I ask? Don’t answer unless I tell you to!”
Swallowing curses, the servant shut his mouth. Ditron approached Calliope, arranging his expression as he drew closer. She must be in quite the state after being cast aside by Circe. He forced a smile—one meant to look kind—but on his face, it resembled a painting drawn wrong. Not that he noticed.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
Susan was by Calliope’s side, of course, but Ditron didn’t count servants as people, so he ignored her entirely. Calliope had been gazing into the distance with a somber expression. When Ditron spoke, she startled deliberately.
“Oh—Granduncle.”
“I heard what happened. I was heartbroken to hear the Marchioness cast you aside, so I came to see you.”
At his words, Calliope gave a heavy smile. Her lips curved softly, but the droop in her brows evoked natural sympathy. Not that Ditron felt it. He stuck to the script he had written in his head.
“The Marchioness is a cold and heartless woman. I’m sure she resents you for being the child of your father’s first wife. That’s why she treated you so.”
He lightly tapped her bandaged ankle with the tip of his cane.
“She sent you away without proper treatment, didn’t she? I’ll call a healer from outside the house. I don’t have one either, thanks to that woman.”
Insulting Circe and bonding over shared misfortune—he was trying to build a connection. Calliope lowered her lashes and looked up at him.
“I wanted to get along with the family.”
“Foolish girl. I’m the only one who cares. The current Marquisate is completely under her control. Of course, no one else would welcome you.”
“I thought as much.”
“Exactly. But don’t worry. I’ll be your strength.”
“Really?”
Calliope finally smiled, her eyes curving with warmth. Ditron, thinking he’d successfully lured in this ignorant, lowborn girl who’d lived like a commoner, smiled back. It was going just as he planned.
Unaware that behind Calliope’s sweet smile, a deadly poison waited.
“I’ll trust only you, Granduncle.”
Calliope steadied the nausea rising in her chest, then spent just enough time with Ditron to play her role before parting ways.
As she limped out of the Marchioness’s room, the servants began to whisper. Most assumed the same thing—that the Marchioness clearly couldn’t stand the daughter of her husband’s former wife. Just as Calliope had hoped. Rather than stop them, she let the rumors spread freely.
“I expected he might fall for it, but to think he believed it so completely and approached me like that…”
Still feeling sick, she sat by the open window, letting the cold breeze wash over her. It helped a little. Susan quietly sat beside her, gently fixing her hair, over and over.
“So… the Marchioness didn’t really cast you out, is that what you’re saying?”
Susan asked as she worked, her expression a mix of relief and unease. It was good news—knowing the Marchioness didn’t hate her lady—but also slightly frightening. To realize someone so young was thinking this far ahead. Her mistress was always kind, but clearly not an ordinary young lady.
“That’s right. So be careful with your words. It needs to look like the Marchioness and I aren’t getting along.”
“Of course. As if I’d go around running my mouth.”
Susan tied a red ribbon in Calliope’s hair and stepped back. She’d heard soft footsteps outside the door. Calliope gave her a small smile and nodded. Susan stepped quietly away and opened the door.
A small voice squeaked in surprise.
“L-Lady Carolie, would you like to come in?”
“Um… well…”
Carolie hesitated just outside, looking nervously down the hall. She clearly hadn’t come alone. Sure enough, behind her stood her maid, Marron, who gave Susan a slightly awkward smile and mouthed:
“Young Master Kaphir is here too.”
Ah. So that’s how it was. He was too embarrassed to come alone, so he brought Carolie along as backup. That made sense. As expected, Carolie quickly ran down the corridor, grabbed Kaphir’s wrist, and pulled him forward.
“Wait, I’m not ready yet!”
Behind the reluctant boy stood his attendant, gently pushing him forward with an amused smile.
“Young Master, putting things off like this isn’t very noble of you.”
“I know! It’s just…”
Dragged along by Carolie, Kaphir finally arrived in front of Calliope’s room. Susan did her best not to laugh and stepped aside to let them through. With nowhere else to run, the two kids awkwardly entered the room. Calliope, sitting on the sofa, welcomed them with a calm smile.
“What brings you two here?”
“Well… um…”
Kaphir had made it inside, but clearly hadn’t worked up the courage to speak. He avoided her eyes and hesitated.
“Ugh! This is so frustrating!”
Just as if it were rehearsed, Carolie burst out, stomping her way to Calliope. She grabbed the edge of Calliope’s skirt with one hand and pointed at Kaphir with the other. It was impolite to point among nobles—but that didn’t stop her.
“Kaphir says he’s sorry. He was too chicken to come on his own, so I came with him.”
“Hey!”
“What?”
He tried to raise his voice in protest, but Carolie just shouted louder. When Calliope looked calmly at him, Kaphir forgot all about arguing and shrank back, mumbling softly.
“I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to what was around me…”
“It’s not something you need to apologize for. It was just an accident.”
“And also…”
Still clearly embarrassed, Kaphir avoided eye contact as he added,
“Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve gotten hurt.”
“You’re welcome.”
Calliope replied plainly, without playing it up, then turned to Susan.
“Susan, would you bring the dessert we bought earlier? There should still be some left.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Oh, and find Jack too. I told him to rest in his room, but I haven’t seen him since. He must’ve wandered off.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Susan hurried out of the room, and Kaphir suddenly felt awkward again. He’d worked up the courage to say thank you and sorry, but Calliope’s light, simple reply made it feel like his grand gesture had fizzled out.
Calliope gently pulled Carolie up from the floor and seated her beside her, then looked toward Kaphir.
“Come sit, Kaphir. You’re here already—at least have some tea.”
“Uh—o-okay…”
He sat directly across from her, then immediately regretted it when he realized they were facing each other head-on. I should’ve sat more to the side. But it felt too awkward to change seats now. He glanced at Carolie, hoping for some help, but she was happily swinging her legs, clearly excited about the dessert.
Some help she is…
