Chapter 52
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 52
"It looks absolutely perfect on you!"
In stark contrast to her bright, cheerful voice, the dark circles under Artemisia’s eyes made her look like she hadn't slept in ten days. She let out a hollow chuckle as she admired my outfit, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"I am just so proud of myself right now."
This wasn't my debutante dress, but rather the outfit I would wear to visit Madame Toten, who had agreed to be my chaperone. Since there wasn't enough time to make a new one from scratch, Artemisia had altered an existing dress from her boutique to suit me. She had eagerly explained the details, but it had all gone in one ear and out the other.
"Noble ladies adore lively young women, but they also have a huge soft spot for quiet, demure ones. Besides, Madame Toten is bound to project her sickly son onto you, my lady. So, I removed all the lace, minimized the embellishments, and focused on bringing out a delicate, sorrowful beauty!"
Honestly, it didn't seem all that different from what I usually wore. But if I said that out loud, she'd probably burst into tears, wouldn't she?
"I absolutely love it. Thank you for your hard work, Artemisia."
"P-please call me Misha..."
As expected, praise was the correct answer. The distance between us seemed to have shrunk a little. I could now call her Misha—two syllables instead of five.
"Thanks to you, Misha, I'm sure I'll make a good impression on Madame Toten."
"Sniff... I have no regrets left in this life. Have a safe trip..."
Misha tottered back toward the powder room, likely to resume working on the debutante dress. She looked like she was on the verge of collapse. Was it really okay for her not to sleep? I wasn't the one driving her like a slave, but I still felt like an exploitative boss.
"My lady, I believe it's time to leave."
Hena checked the time, gathered our things, and stood. Right. There was nothing more I could do by staying here. I should focus on my own tasks.
For today's outing, Hena, Melek, and I were going together. Melek had appeared out of nowhere to act as our coachman for the day.
After our last visit to the temple, the previous coachman had quit, and Melek had snatched up the vacant position. According to Mary, he'd shown an extraordinary talent for driving carriages ever since his time in the stables. She had been quite frustrated, complaining that she was falling behind when all she could do was feed the horses carrots.
"Gamigin, please take good care of us."
Melek stroked the horse. He couldn't even name himself, yet he gave the horse a name? He helped me into the carriage, promising an incredibly smooth, shake-free ride.
But wait, is he driving blindfolded?
I guess it didn't matter since he was a ghost. Knowing that, I could ride without worry, but I was concerned others might find it terrifying. Hena, however, climbed into the carriage after me without batting an eye. I suppose it was fine. It probably only looked scary to onlookers. As long as we were safe, who cared?
He truly deserved recognition for his talent. The carriages I had ridden in before rattled so much my backside would be sore, but with Melek driving, it was so comfortable I could barely tell we were moving. So this was the quality of a ghost-driven carriage?
While I was marveling at the ride, we arrived at the Marquis Toten's estate. Perhaps because they had received Gabriel's message, the main gates swung open, and our carriage passed through, stopping directly in front of the mansion.
Wow. It's absolutely massive.
It felt almost insulting to compare it to Count Rohanson's estate.
"Are you Lady Rohanson? Thank you for visiting the Toten estate."
"Thank you for the welcome."
An elderly man with graying hair, who appeared to be the butler, was there to greet us.
"The Marchioness is waiting for you."
Hena and I followed the butler inside. Behind us, I heard a servant directing the carriage parking gasp in shock at the sight of Melek's blindfold. "You didn't... drive the carriage wearing that, did you...?"
I knew nothing about that. Let's get inside quickly.
The interior of the Marquis Toten's estate was quite unique.
Perhaps for ventilation, all the windows were wide open. The furniture was polished so spotlessly that not a single speck of dust could be seen, and religious decorations highlighting their devotion were lined up everywhere. The obsessively clean, clinical maintenance made it feel less like a living space and more like a movie set.
The sunlight streamed in beautifully, making every color vibrant. Was I watching a movie? As a strange sense of unreality washed over me, as if I were sitting in front of a screen, the old butler's voice snapped me back to the present. Ah, right. I needed to focus on the story.
"It has been a very long time since the Marchioness has invited a guest," the old butler remarked with a genial smile.
"Doesn't Madame Toten have an excellent reputation?"
Wait, why? Gabriel had told me she was well-connected and highly sociable. That was why he said she would be a great chaperone to introduce me to people.
Gabriel wouldn't lie to me, so was it all just for show? A superficial social life for appearances only? That did seem very aristocratic.
"Haha. Well, a noisy environment is hardly ideal for stabilizing the mind and body, after all."
Ah. He must be talking about her sick son. Come to think of it, it would be awkward to host guests and laugh merrily when you have an ailing child at home. Oh my gosh, does that mean I shouldn't have come either?
So that was why Gabriel had suggested inviting Madame Toten to the Rohanson mansion. I had insisted on coming here myself, completely oblivious. Honestly, this was Gabriel's fault for not stopping me.
"It is also the first time the Marchioness has agreed to act as a chaperone. It is likely due to what she heard from the Knight Commander."
"The story about me being sick?"
"Yes. That is probably why she made an exception and permitted your visit."
The old butler gave me a pointed look. He was hinting that Madame Toten had invited me and agreed to be my chaperone only because my situation was similar to her son's. At the same time, it felt like he was criticizing me for barging into their home without showing proper gratitude.
Perhaps from years of experience, his passive-aggressive sarcasm was masterful. But since I was indeed in the wrong, I couldn't argue. Well, that was my fault for being so inconsiderate.
"And if this old man may venture a word out of concern... please do not give the Marchioness any false hope."
False hope? What did he mean?
"The Marchioness has only recently come to terms with the situation. After hearing about you, Lady Rohanson, she seems to have gained hope that Master Ryder might also show signs of improvement."
But isn't that a good thing? It meant I was a symbol of hope.
"However, Master Ryder is truly beyond help. Even holy water has no effect..."
The old butler trailed off, his expression sorrowful. Ah, I was being shortsighted. Sometimes, hope can be a poison.
He bowed his head. Oh no, he wasn't crying, was he? The illness must be far more severe than I thought. If even holy water offered no improvement, it had to be something like a terminal illness.
To sum it up, the butler was warning me not to offer empty platitudes like wishing his master a speedy recovery, since Madame Toten's son wouldn't get better like I did. If she got her hopes up only to be disappointed again, the wound might be too deep for her to ever recover.
"...The Marchioness may ask how you recovered, my lady."
"Do not worry. Even if the Marchioness invited me hoping for a sliver of hope, there is nothing I can do for her."
There was nothing to worry about. Evangeline was already dead. The only reason she appeared to have recovered was because I had possessed her body. It wasn't some miracle recovery that followed the laws of this world, so I had no advice to give.
Hearing my words, the old butler looked immensely relieved. He really cared deeply for Madame Toten. He was the textbook definition of a loyal butler. Meanwhile, the butler at my own house was so terrified he'd run away the moment he saw me. Though, considering the gravity of Evangeline's past misdeeds, I couldn't really blame him.
"You are far more reasonable than the rumors suggested. I am relieved."
The old butler smiled. But wait, hadn't this old man been subtly taking jabs at me this whole time?
He was basically saying, ‘Your reputation is trash, but I'm glad you're more cooperative than expected.’ Thanks to the speech lessons I took from Doline, I could decode all of this now.
Having only seen people tremble in fear at Evangeline's notorious reputation, seeing someone act so bold was quite refreshing. They said butlers of high-ranking noble families possessed immense pride, and this seemed to be a perfect example.
Did he think Evangeline would know her place and bow her head before the Marchioness who was to be her chaperone?
"You must deeply respect Madame Toten."
"Pardon?"
The butler turned to look at me, caught off guard by my sudden question.
"To think you would lay bare the inner workings of the marquisate to someone you just met, all out of concern for how it might affect Madame Toten."
As expected, a capable butler was quick-witted. He had already read the situation perfectly. I would gladly prostrate myself. I never had any pride to begin with. If I did, would I be playing house and flirting with novel characters?
To praise the old butler's deep loyalty and his impressive grasp of the estate's affairs, I decided to employ Doline's "indirect speech technique."
"One might mistake you for the master of this estate."
What an outstanding sense of ownership! The perfect employee!
"..."
Perhaps the flattery was too much, because the butler was left speechless.
Ah, whoops. In RoFan novels, you're not supposed to grovel before a subordinate. I'd just broken that unwritten rule, letting a sycophantic comment slip out of sheer habit.
To be honest, I had thought about snapping back when he was subtly insulting me earlier, but I barely held it in, fearing it might spawn yet another bad rumor. Besides, if I lost my temper and lashed out, what if the old butler badmouthed me to the Marchioness? Between a guest she met today and a butler who had served her for years, who would she trust more? If he started talking behind my back, I could kiss my chaperone goodbye. Since I had already held back, I might as well see it through to the end. Just think of the chaperone.
"Your eloquence is truly remarkable. I assume you greet every guest who visits the estate with the same level of hospitality?"
Excellent lip service. Perfect score for hospitality.
If there were a guestbook, I would have left a five-star review: "The butler is friendly, and the estate is delicious."
Perhaps finding the barrage of compliments too overwhelming, the old butler began to break into a cold sweat.