Chapter 74
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 74
Seo-ah’s eyes, catching the sunlight, were as clear as water after the dust settles.
“You’re pretty even when you’re angry.”
“…No, I’m not.”
“Oh? So you have thought about it before, haven’t you?”
“I said no.”
Abel grinned at her face, which was turning increasingly red.
“Darling.”
At that, Seo-ah, who had been struggling to maintain her composure, finally snapped.
“Please, stop calling me that!”
“Alright. I’ll stop if you call me Abel.”
“……”
“Come on…”
“Fine, Abel. Stop it.”
“Sure thing, darling.”
Her flushed, angry face froze. Then, as if she couldn’t stand to look at him a moment longer, she turned toward her room.
“Sorry, sorry. It just rolls off the tongue.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of my meal.”
If she were truly furious, she would have slammed the door in his face. But watching her try so hard to hide her irritation was incredibly amusing, which was why he couldn’t help but tease her. Still, he couldn't just tease her forever.
Before Seo-ah could disappear behind the door, Abel asked, his voice completely stripped of its usual playfulness.
“Are you very sick?”
Seo-ah, who had looked ready to slam the door without another word, paused.
“No.”
Of course, the Gold Digger didn't miss his opening.
“If you’re sick, should I nurse you? You’ve been suffering alone for two days. It’s incredibly lonely to be sick all by yourself, you know?”
“No!”
Though the woman, who had tried so hard to remain polite, finally raised her voice in anger, Abel only let out a low chuckle.
Perfect.
He was getting a feel for it.
This crazy talent of his.
In high spirits, Abel whispered toward Seo-ah’s closed door.
“I’ll be back later!”
No answer came, but it didn’t matter. He turned, a lingering smile on his face, and leisurely stepped out of the study.
Click.
The Marquis’s quarters were bathed in clear, bright sunlight.
A moment after the door to the hallway clicked shut, a heavy presence stirred from deep within the vast, partitioned chambers. A slow, deliberate step echoed in the silence.
* * *
“It rained so heavily until dawn, but now that it’s morning, it’s completely cleared up. Honestly, Luxen’s weather changes on a dime.”
The head maid, wearing a laced headscarf that kept every single hair in place, spoke as she drew back the long, heavy curtains. Starting from the window farthest from the bed, she opened them one by one, then approached and cast a worried look at Charlotte, who lay with the back of her hand resting on her forehead.
“Oh dear, Marchioness. Do you have a headache?”
Charlotte, who had been keeping her eyes tightly shut, finally sat up. Seeing this, the head maid quickly brought over a silk gown and draped it over her shoulders. She then bent down to slip plush slippers onto Charlotte’s bare feet as she stepped down from the high bed.
“Shall I bring you some medicine for your headache?” she asked.
But Charlotte, as if even answering was a chore, simply shook her head and walked over to her favorite sofa.
Her sitting on the sofa was a signal.
The maids of the House of Count Jerome, who had entered with the head maid and had been waiting silently in the corners like shadows, sprang into action the moment Charlotte sat down and rested her legs on the footstool.
One brought a basin of washing water, while another presented a comb and pin set to style her hair. Behind the maid washing her face, two others stood ready to apply her makeup. Meanwhile, more maids knelt around her, ready to clean and groom her hands and feet with warm, damp towels.
Surely, not even the Queen’s morning routine was this elaborate.
The head maid placed a plush pillow behind Charlotte’s back and asked, “Would you like a scalp massage?”
Resting her head against the back of the sofa with her eyes closed, Charlotte finally parted her lips.
“Yes, please.”
The head maid signaled the other maids with her eyes to continue their work as she began to massage Charlotte’s scalp.
Charlotte, who reigned as the de facto mistress of the House of Count Jerome, maintained an appearance that made it impossible to believe she had fully grown children.
As people aged, even those with the thickest hair found their locks turning dry and brittle, which was why most noblewomen Charlotte’s age wore wigs. Yet, her blonde hair remained thick, lustrous, and unfaded. Not only that, but her skin was smooth without a single deep wrinkle, and her slender figure was completely devoid of excess fat.
The mature aura she exuded only served to enhance her allure. Aside from that captivating charm—one young ladies could never hope to replicate—nothing about her betrayed her true age.
Indeed, the title of the most beautiful woman in East Norfolk was not something just anyone could claim.
Yet, as is often the case, such a title inevitably invited whispered rumors.
The noblewomen of Luxen praised her beauty to her face, but behind her back, they whispered. They said that only someone of her caliber could act as the mistress of the House of Count Jerome while still retaining the title of Marchioness Reinhardt. And that wasn't all—she had even managed to position her daughter, branded an illegitimate child, to become the next queen.
Even now, Count Jerome’s mother was constantly foaming at the mouth over the fact that her only son refused a proper marriage, content to live as Charlotte’s lover.
Had Charlotte’s status been humble, she would have been dismissed as a mere concubine, but the name Reinhardt far eclipsed Jerome. The House of Count Jerome had only recently registered in the minds of the nobility, and even that was largely thanks to Charlotte’s influence. Thus, people couldn't help but whisper that the Count was merely the Marchioness’s paramour, and his only daughter, Sabine, could not escape being labeled as the Marchioness’s illegitimate child.
Charlotte was a woman trailed by many such labels. Yet, one thing was certain: whatever she held in her grasp—be it her status, her circumstances, or her breathtaking beauty—no one could easily touch.
The eyes of the maids assisting with Charlotte’s morning wash kept drifting toward her face. The head maid, massaging Charlotte’s scalp from behind, shot a fierce glare at the maids stealing glances at their mistress. Startled, the maids quickly pulled their necks back like turtles and averted their eyes, just as Charlotte, who had kept her eyes closed the entire time, opened them.
The head maid asked brightly, “How do you feel? Is it any better?”
Charlotte gave a light wave of her hand. “Thank you. It is a bit better.”
The moment she spoke, the head maid moved to Charlotte’s right side and handed her a cup of lukewarm lemon water. “It seems you couldn’t sleep because of the rain last night. You usually get headaches on days like this, don’t you?”
After drinking the lemon water, Charlotte glanced at the maid waiting to apply her makeup and said to the head maid, “This is enough for this morning.”
Taking the cup from Charlotte’s hand, the head maid tilted her head and asked, “But you mentioned you had a meeting with the ladies this morning…”
“As you said, I have a bit of a headache.”
“Shall I inform the ladies that you won’t be able to make it?”
“Yes, please do.”
“Then, as for the young lady’s exhibition…”
“I can go to that in the afternoon.”
“Shall I bring you some headache medicine?”
“No, that’s fine. I think I’ll be better after some rest. And don’t bother serving breakfast, either.”
“Understood.”
The quick-witted head maid immediately took a step back, and the maids surrounding Charlotte rose to follow her. As the servants receded like the ebbing tide, Charlotte was left alone in the quiet room.
“It seems you couldn't sleep because of the rain last night. You usually get headaches on days like this, don't you?”
It was just as the head maid had said.
She hadn’t been able to sleep last night because of the rain. Though she had shut the windows tight to prevent even a single drop from leaking in and drawn every curtain, there was no way to block out the distinct smell, humidity, and sound of a rainy day.
Gazing out the window, Charlotte rose from the sofa and walked toward it.
Beyond the spotlessly clean glass lay a damp world, carrying the unique atmosphere of the day after a heavy rain. To think it would clear up so completely after pouring down so relentlessly all night.
Rainy nights always carried an unpleasant feeling.
It hadn’t always been that way. Once, she had loved the romantic mood of a rainy night. Or so she thought. It had been so long that she could barely remember.
It had been over twenty years since rainy nights had become uncomfortable for her. Even after so much time, she still couldn’t find the words to describe that unsettling sensation.
How should she put it?
It felt like a heavy meal sitting undigested in the pit of her stomach, or a suffocating pressure squeezing her organs. This indescribable discomfort would only vanish once the rain stopped or the day fully broke.
Though she couldn't find the words to describe it, she knew exactly where the discomfort originated.
Oscar.
Her son, who didn't resemble her in the slightest but was the spitting image of his father. Looking at him inevitably brought that man to mind.
Oscar’s father. Her legal husband.
Ernst von Reinhardt.
She could still vividly recall the first moment she saw him.
He was mounted on a warhorse as black as soot, clad in a military uniform adorned with a cap and dozens of insignias. Even from a distance, the face beneath his cap was so handsome she couldn't tear her eyes away.
“That is the man,” the low voice of the previous King had pierced her ears. “The very one who laid waste to your family.”
“I shall arrange the marriage. What happens after that is up to you.”
With those words, the previous King had stoked her desire for revenge. Charlotte had simply listened to him obediently.
But there was one thing the previous King never realized: she herself didn't particularly grieve the ruin of her family.