Chapter 20
"Sir Demian."
"Yes."
Chezare's summons drew a demure response from Demian. He stood ramrod straight, tense as if facing a knightly superior.
"How's life mowing lawns in someone else's garden?"
"Quite satisfying, sir."
"Better than guarding the Imperial Palace?"
Demian paused, his face scrunched in thought. Catherine couldn't help but let out a disbelieving snort. Is this even worth pondering? Compared to his true calling, it had to be downright miserable, obviously.
"Well, not having to deal with all those annoying types does make it seem better, in a way."
"Better?"
"Yes." Chezare stroked his chin. "You still haven't learned your lesson, have you? I'll extend your punishment by another three months. Don't even think about returning to the palace during that time."
"Pardon?"
The protest came not from Demian, but from Catherine. Her household was already stretched thin—now she had to feed one more mouth?
With all eyes on her, she started to voice her objection. Wait. This might not be all bad. Money? She could always earn more. But safety? She couldn't keep running to Chezare every time trouble brewed. Especially not in her pajamas!
"Oh, I'm fine with it."
Protection from an Imperial Knight squad—who could ask for better? Sure, he was a bit simple. No, very simple.
Chezare studied her face intently before speaking again, his expression dawning with realization.
"On second thought, it seems I've been foisting my disciplinary measures onto Lady Panya as an excuse. I'll compensate you for any damages. Does that sound fair?"
Her first thought upon hearing the offer: Is this another roundabout way of looking out for me?
Of course, Catherine wasn't noble enough to refuse money out of pride.
"Of course."
At her reply, the unease on Chezare's face vanished instantly.
"And you, Sir?"
"I'll obey your command."
Three more months of punishment, and Demian didn't look fazed in the slightest. Did he hate palace duty that much? If so, she could certainly sympathize. Slacking off by single-handedly tending this massive estate's garden? It was a baffling situation all around.
"You look sweaty, Sir. Must be tough work. A few days with a scythe instead of a sword, and your skills have gone to pot, eh?"
"What choice did I have? Sure, we got lucky and chased it off without major trouble, but that horse head was one of the nastiest things I've ever seen."
Demian nudged the half-vanished horse head with his toe. Goat, then horse—pig next? A pig head rolling through the hall? Horrifying.
"Chezare, is this going to keep happening?"
She sounded fed up. Chezare crossed his arms.
"Why else would I have tried to chase you away from here, Lady Panya? You didn't think I coveted this crumbling old pile, did you?"
With a grand archmage and knight by her side, fear didn't factor in. But what if trouble hit when they were gone?
"How often does it happen?"
"No symptoms or patterns for incidents like today's. All I can say is the gap was unusually short this time."
No patterns or warnings? Then her only recourse in the worst case was one: keep Yaong glued to her side. With Yaong, she could at least hitch a ride and flee far away.
"I've kept this estate hidden from the Papal Court and the palace for nearly a decade. As I mentioned before, to safeguard a very dangerous bomb."
Even with Imperial Knight Demian present, Chezare spoke freely. Demian scratched his head, feigning ignorance as if he'd known all along.
"But Lady Panya, didn't you say you could handle it all? Well, if you're scared, I suppose there's no helping that. Just flee to my estate if problems arise."
"Thanks for the thought. I'll do my best to handle things on my own."
It was a house she wanted to stick around in as long as possible. Someone who knew her mother's whereabouts might show up someday, after all.
But toughing it out in total ignorance of the basement magic circle's true nature didn't sit right.
He called it a bomb, so as long as nothing triggers it...
Where on earth was she supposed to dig up that kind of info? Her mother's trail was the same—things she needed to know but couldn't easily uncover were piling up.
"No need to strain yourself."
Chezare's tone carried clear displeasure, but only for a moment.
"I've returned the estate to you. Enjoy your peaceful afternoon."
With that, he turned and vanished from sight soon after—likely back to his own mansion.
Thanks to Chezare's consideration, peace returned to the estate.
"Looks like Roze is coming back with the cat in tow. Haah, please, no onion stew today."
Demian had reverted to his gardener guise, peering out the window.
So that's where Yaong wandered off to—following Roze.
A pang of guilt hit her chest. Lately, tight finances meant endless stew. Roze, sensing her plight, had stocked only cheap ingredients.
Now that she was getting paid for Demian too, maybe tonight called for a proper meal.
"Stew does get a bit repetitive, huh?"
"Nah, I just hate onions."
Unlike her assumption, Demian seemed utterly oblivious. It eased her guilt. His brainless existence was a boon today.
"But who's that woman walking beside her?"
Curious, Catherine stepped beside him and peered out.
Roze looked as cheerful and lively as ever, oblivious to the estate's near-collapse and that massive boom. Same as with the goat head—no local acquaintances had checked in, despite the huge incident. Chezare must have warded the property with magic.
But that tall woman beside Roze, as Demian noted...
"You know her?"
"Kinda? Maybe not?"
"What kind of vague answer is that?"
She'd need a closer look at her face to confirm. But one thing was certain: this woman tied back to Catherine's days as the Orleans Viscount's eldest daughter.
And she'd come all the way from Orleans to distant Christopher? That spelled trouble.
Roze spotted Catherine and beamed the instant they met.
Yaong yawned hugely and vanished into the bushes.
"Miss, you're home! I thought you'd stepped out."
Catherine glanced past her. "Why?"
"There was a guest waiting at the gate. No one answered the bell, so I brought her in..."
Then, from behind Roze emerged a woman with a very, very familiar face.
"Miss, you never mentioned having a little sister? And get this—she came all the way from afar!"
Wavy, vibrant blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes radiating stubbornness—unlike her twin. A haughty, elongated jawline completed the look.
"Hey. Long time no see, sis."
"Magi."
The visitor was Catherine's half-sister, Anne's twin: Magi Orleans.
"Hmm. Run-down and shabby, sure, but not bad for a mansion. Anyway... save the happy reunion for later and show me to the parlor? I'm half-dead after climbing that hill in these."
With that, Magi thrust out her foot. The heels were at least four inches high.
Catherine let out a quiet sigh of relief. Of all her messy ties, Magi was manageable.
Among the three sisters, Magi was the most independent, and even more at odds with Anne than Catherine was. She hated meddlers and ignored others' business, so her visit likely had no ulterior motive. Even if it did, probably not one to upend Catherine's life.
"Come in."
Magi strode in gracefully despite her swollen feet. Her sweeping gaze through the hall halted at Demian perched by the window.
"Who's that? Ah... your lover?"
Demian's face soured instantly, and he bolted from the house. Anyone would think he was offended.
Catherine yanked Magi's nape dismissively. "Don't be ridiculous, Magi. That's the gardener, Mr. Demian."
Lover. Stepmother Laura must have spun her departure that way. Something like: the engaged noblewoman eloped with a random guy. Pure Laura.
"Gardener? That young? Come on, liar. The garden's a disaster."
"We've only just started maintaining it."
"Hmm. If you say so, I won't pry. I've got that much sense. Oh, chrysanthemum tea for me. Hot, brewed from Edinburgh's finest."
"Don't have it. Water'll do."
"What? Not even that? This is your home?"
Magi kicked off her shoes upon entering the parlor and curled up on the sofa, knees tucked.
"I want a steam."
Always so demanding. But Catherine could chalk it up to little-sister whining.
"Haah. Roze? Soak a towel in hot water, please."
"Y-yes!"
Roze, who'd been hovering anxiously, darted out like she'd been waiting for it. She must have picked up on the vibe—the sisters weren't your typical warm and fuzzy.
"What brings you all the way here?"
Magi scowled at the question.
"Why are you so cold, sis? Can't even ask how I've been?"
Catherine stared silently into Magi's eyes. She knew it wasn't genuine concern.
As expected, Magi dropped the pretense quickly.
"Fine, fine. The mood's too stiff for a joyful sisterly reunion, but whatever. I'll start with news you'll actually care about."
Rubbing her blistered feet slowly, Magi continued.
"Anne's getting married soon."