#008 Did he really expect her to believe that?
Did he really expect her to believe that? If things kept going like this, even if they ran into each other inside the Christopher Ducal Residence later, he'd probably say something like, "Ah, I often hear people say we have the same face, same name, and live in the same place."
The casual way he'd handed over 1,000 reid. And the mage. On second thought, the man's identity was definitely Duke Chezare. His un-noble-like speech and behavior had thrown her off at first, but considering the peculiar temperament unique to mages, it wasn't strange at all.
Why would a duke go to such lengths for this mansion? Catherine wondered if she should start treating him with proper respect right now. But whenever she looked at Chezare's handsome yet brazen and sly face, such thoughts flew right out the window.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked. He still hadn't touched the 1,000-reid bill.
"I only said I'd think about it back then. I never said I'd actually move."
"Miss Panya, you can tell what someone's thinking just by looking into their eyes."
His eyes, blue like a summer beach, pierced right through her. The gaze alone felt like it was rifling through her mind piece by piece, stirring a faint unease.
In truth, whether this man was the duke or not wasn't the biggest issue. The real problem lay elsewhere. It was that he was one of those—the same kind as it.
Even those vividly clear blue eyes turned purple when he used magic...
Just recalling it sent shivers down her spine. Catherine deliberately circled wide around the table and sat in the chair farthest from Chezare.
"What's wrong with my eyes? Go ahead and look all you want."
Leaning back in his chair with arms crossed, Chezare slowly blinked.
"Do you remember a few days ago? You were afraid of something then, Miss Panya."
"Was I?" Did he know that something was him?
"But not anymore. I don't know what happened in just five days, but... I can tell one thing clearly: you're not backing down. Have you found some once-in-a-lifetime goal you can't give up?"
Catherine stared at Chezare without answering—more precisely, at the bridge of his nose and the line of his cheek. Dealing with this man was quite— no, extremely—taxing for her. She hadn't realized it before, but she definitely felt it now.
Chezare was different from everyone she'd ever met, in every way. It made sense for someone of a duke's stature, of course. He wasn't pretending to have what he didn't, nor was he showboating or faking knowledge he lacked.
That's why he made her uncomfortable. He was impossible to read.
"If you know that much, then give up already and stop barging into my house. I have no idea how many times I've had to say this."
At her words, Chezare's eyes crinkled in a smile—not the relaxed one from earlier, but his signature pitch-black grin.
"Have you already forgotten who saved this half-destroyed mansion a few days ago?"
Catherine's eyes widened. As if he had no comebacks.
"Do you not remember who saved you from nearly freezing to death last night?"
The man shut his mouth. At the same moment, the smile that had spread across his face vanished like a mask being removed. He already had delicate features and a sharp aura, but without the smile, he looked like a completely different person.
Oddly enough, this felt more natural—and less frightening. Maybe this cold expression was Chezare's true face.
"That..."
Catherine glared at him, daring him to speak. His distorting expression looked incredibly complicated. He opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then clamped it shut upon seeing her face. Finally, he muttered.
"Haa... fine."
"Fine? It's not fine for me. Because of you, I got drenched in that downpour and caught a cold."
Of course, Catherine had never been sick a day in her life. Like her mother, she had a constitution healthy down to her capillaries.
"And you can't even say thank you?"
Saying it like this made her sound like a whiny kid demanding gratitude. Haa. Why did she always feel so childish around this man?
Chezare slowly rubbed the back of his neck with long fingers before replying.
"You look perfectly healthy right now, Miss Panya, but..." It was a clear implication of "don't lie."
"If that's your way of asking for repayment, well, it's not hard. You did graciously offer kindness, after all."
He rose with noble-like elegance.
"Very well. Then I'll stay by your side until your cold goes away."
The man stood and lit the kitchen fire, starting to cook.
Cook?
Catherine stared blankly at the man's back as he cooked. Beneath his autumn-weight shirt—not too thin, not too thick—his muscles moved freely. His rolled-up sleeves revealed firm forearms, a stark contrast to his pale, slender fingers. She hadn't noticed when he was sitting, but standing, his height was impressively tall. She couldn't even see what he was cooking.
Catherine couldn't believe that a mage—one of those—was cooking for her right in front of her eyes.
He wouldn't try to poison me, would he?
The thought made her increasingly uneasy. Maybe he'd slip in poison. Or force her to eat something inedible to make her sick...
The man seemed extremely skilled at cooking. A duke wouldn't be good at this. So was he the duke's secret twin? But no matter how she thought about it, he was unmistakably Duke Chezare, and her head felt like it might explode.
"Oh my, oh my!"
Roze came rushing into the kitchen at the noise, fussing as she approached Chezare. But he turned with a dazzling smile and gestured for her to sit and wait.
"Roze, it's fine. Come here."
Roze, who'd been fidgeting anxiously, sighed in relief when Catherine patted the seat beside her. She must have been uneasy about leaving cooking to a guest.
By the time Catherine came to her senses, a decent-looking meal was set before her and Roze: shrimp stew heavy with spices, bacon with vegetables, and bread.
"My goodness, I thought you were a noble gentleman, but your cooking skills are amazing!"
Roze's eyes were already smitten with Chezare—no, she looked like she was swimming in adoration.
"What does taking care of me have to do with cooking?"
Chezare chuckled softly from the opposite chair.
"How could it not? Health starts with not skipping meals, Miss Panya. So don't leave anything—chew it all thoroughly."
Following Chezare as he tore into the bread, their strange lunch began. The taste was better than expected. Too good, in fact—could he really have made this? He was so skilled, and it tasted great; she thought dukes were truly bizarre people. No need to overthink it—he was just weird, doing things like this. That judgment brought a bit of calm to her mind.
The moment the meal ended, Roze jumped up, insisting she'd handle cleanup, and shooed Catherine and Chezare out of the kitchen.
"Miss Panya, this way."
Chezare called her and strode through the mansion with familiar steps. With a strange feeling, she followed him to the drawing room. It was as if Chezare were the master of the house and she the guest arriving in inclement weather.
Chezare sat her on the long sofa.
"Now that you've eaten, it might be best to sit quietly and read a book."
A book and blanket appeared beside her from who-knows-where. With a light wave of his hand, the fireplace roared to life.
Catherine let out a short gasp of admiration at the wondrous sight and unfolded the blanket. He was a man who came and went as he pleased anyway. He'd vanish when he got bored. Thinking that, she decided to obediently follow his words.
Shhhh.
How much time had passed? The dim daytime sky had grown even darker, the rain still pouring thickly, with occasional lightning illuminating the room. Unable to bear the eye strain, Catherine closed the book and stretched languidly.
The surroundings were eerily quiet. Had Chezare left in the meantime? But...
Clack.
He was playing chess.
Where did that come from?
This old mansion overflowed with antiques, but there was no chessboard. Yet the one Chezare used gleamed with care, placed on an expensive hardwood table.
"Do you play?" he asked, eyes fixed on the pieces.
Catherine silently shook her head at his silver-haired profile. It was foolish, but somehow she felt he wouldn't notice if she didn't look directly.
She told him, "Just go home."
Clack. Chezare moved a piece without replying.
"I didn't mean for you to take care of me. I'm fine, so you can leave now."
What did this man want? Catherine never imagined she'd end up eating food from—and being cared for by—a man she'd met by chance, who had intruded without permission. And her lie about being sick wouldn't fool someone like Chezare anyway. Yet he'd pretended to believe it.
"You want to chase me out? Even in this thunderstorm?"
Kaboom!
As if on cue, thunder roared, splitting the sky. The flash lit Chezare's face a beat early, still lingering. His expression, fixed on the board, was quite serious.
"Taking care of you isn't hard. I'll leave when the rain stops—no need to worry."
"...You're right. I'll give you a room tonight. Stay the night and go."
Thunder and lightning were unpleasant, but why had this man she'd hated stood in the rain yesterday? He was strange. Catherine couldn't understand Chezare at all.
Crackle, crackle.
The pleasant sound of burning logs tickled her ears. Lulled by the steady, soothing noise, Catherine dimly opened her eyes.
The drawing room where she'd fallen asleep was warm and cozy.
...When did I fall asleep?
Glancing at the clock, it was already midnight. She remembered eating lunch with the three of them, but after that, her memories were hazy. She'd probably dozed off while reading.
Chezare was gone. So were the chessboard and the pieces scattered on it.
"He really comes and goes as he pleases."
She leaned on the sofa for a moment to shake off the drowsiness, extinguished the fireplace embers, and left the drawing room. Catherine slowly ascended the hall stairs, lit only by occasional lanterns. Away from the fire, a chill crept over her.
At a point in the long corridor toward her bedroom, she saw someone leaning against a window with the curtains drawn back.
It was Chezare.
Shh. He was watching her too, pressing a finger to his lips and beckoning briefly.
Up close, Chezare exuded an indescribably alien aura. Like they were meeting for the first time in this moment. Catherine blinked awkwardly and peered out the window with him.
Huh?
Someone had entered the mansion grounds. Two men in raincoats were conspicuously large. Beneath the black fabric, silver armor gleamed. And beside them, a massive sword too big for the raincoats to hide.
"Those people..."
Catherine's naturally robust health came with excellent eyesight. Focusing intently, she examined the armor's shape. Exquisitely ornate at a glance.
It was the Imperial Knights' armor.
Her eyes widening in shock, she turned to Chezare. Leaning casually against the windowsill, he spoke calmly.
"Didn't I tell you? Staying in this mansion will only bring more danger."
The men crossed the garden, drawing closer. She didn't know how they'd opened the locked door. They boldly intruded into Catherine's mansion.
Chezare whispered softly, "Still no intention of leaving this place?"