The Transparent Lover
What is the lover of an aged noblewoman?
If someone asked him that, Gaspar would answer without hesitation.
A transparent man.
He could wander freely through the house, but the servants pretended not to see him even when they did, pretended not to hear even when they could. It was all to preserve the noblewoman's dignity.
Of course, there were places he wasn't allowed to enter. If he stepped into forbidden corridors, a servant would appear out of nowhere and trail behind him.
Sometimes the butler would watch him closely while pretending not to.
The surveillance was so airtight that Gaspar hadn't stolen a single piece of valuable information yet.
All he'd gotten from seducing the maids were useless bits of gossip.
'Ah, this is getting boring.'
In the outer garden, beneath a massive tree.
Gaspar lay sprawled on a sturdy branch, yawning widely.
It had been easy enough to ride a fancy carriage from the Richter capital all the way to the Bayern estate.
Worryingly easy, in fact—for the security of this kingdom.
Meeting the Duchess of Bayern had been a pleasure, too.
But afterward? That was the problem.
Even a middle-aged lady was fair game if she suited his tastes.
'But Genevieve... she's just not my type.'
For one, those dull eyes of hers were a turn-off.
He preferred something more like... yes, exactly that.
"Anselm, shall we try getting on the horse?"
Her golden hair, tied back and swaying in the breeze, revealed a nape that was far too tantalizing. He couldn't tear his eyes away.
When those sun-kissed amber eyes curved softly as she looked down at the child, Gaspar swallowed unconsciously.
It was a purity that made his mouth go dry just from stealing glances.
She had the transcendent air of someone who had died and come back to life—detached yet enduring, sharp yet indifferent.
He had never seen a noblewoman like her in all his life.
'Her background may be murky, but she's still worlds away from a guy like me.'
Gaspar tracked Ibel with obsessive eyes.
It was the gaze one might give a rare artifact on display in a museum or an old masterpiece adorning a palace wall.
A mix of longing and distance, eyes burning with desire.
Of course, he didn't realize it himself. But anyone watching would surely have said:
Are you falling in late first love or something?
"Eek!"
Gaspar jolted, his body pitching forward—he'd been so fixated on Ibel that the man who appeared pointing right at him made him shudder.
Somehow, the man knew exactly where he was, his glare sharp as a blade.
If he lingered any longer, he'd be in real trouble. Gaspar slipped back quietly.
It was time for his scheming anyway.
'I wanted to watch more...'
The defenses here were seriously tight.
"Ahh, Leo. My Leo."
In the dark bedroom.
Genevieve, her hair disheveled, stared drunkenly at Gaspar.
"You're the angel who'll save me from this hellish place..."
He let her crawl toward him and cling without resistance.
Honestly, he couldn't comprehend the whining of these pampered elites.
Had they ever hunted snails on rainy days when food was scarce? Scraped moss off rocks to eat?
Roasted insects and chewed their hind legs? Fought and shoved over a single hard loaf of bread?
Luxurious beds prepared by maids, warm bedrooms. A life where they never had to lift a finger.
And yet they called it misery. Pathetic and laughable.
"So, how can I help you?"
He smiled sweetly, and Genevieve looked up with bloodshot eyes.
"Get rid of that thing. You can do it, can't you? You can... that's what she said..."
"Of course I can. But I need money."
"Ah... then take this, at least. I don't have cash right now, but... this at least..."
Genevieve fumbled to unclasp her necklace—a diamond one she'd cherished for years. Gaspar snatched it up, feeling its hefty weight, and grinned.
"I'll make it worth your while."
"Ahh...!"
This would come in handy when he safely returned to Franche. Along with a few of Genevieve's other old jewels, as a bonus.
'His Majesty is preparing for war, so stirring up some chaos here should please him.'
A plan took shape in Gaspar's mind. Watching how far it would go sounded like fun.
The once-quiet estate was now bustling with guests.
As the lady of the house-to-be, Ibel assigned bedrooms, chatted with visitors, and spent a hectic day.
The highlight? The wedding dress had finally arrived.
"Adding fresh orange jasmine here would make it truly stunning."
Mrs. Eberstein had come to help with the final fitting.
It was transitioning to autumn, but the heat lingered, so the design bared the arms. It was adorned with fine lace everywhere, and a large ribbon—elegant in a way rare for these rural parts.
"My goodness, it's so beautiful!"
Leaving the exclamatory lady behind, Ibel stood before the mirror.
Even to her... it was embarrassing, but yes.
It was pretty.
"The fabric tears easily, so you girls must handle it with care."
Mrs. Eberstein instructed the maids on Ibel's behalf.
They had to guard it in shifts, one at a time, no dozing off—ensuring nothing happened.
"By the way, dear, have you visited the chapel yet?"
"Ah, not yet."
"Shall we go now? It's good to walk the path once. We'll head there after the ceremony to pray, and we wouldn't want you tripping."
Ibel blinked at Mrs. Eberstein's suggestion.
Right. Why hadn't she thought of that?
If the gods had sent her back in time, visiting the chapel was the quickest way to find out.
"Let's go now."
Probably because neither Victor nor she were particularly devout.
They weren't heretics denying the divine... they just didn't get relying on it.
Anyway, Ibel decided to pray for the first time in ages.
If their regressions were divine will, maybe the gods would deign to send a message.
On the vast Bayern grounds.
The chapel stood isolated, away from the manor, in a spot few people visited.
"It's... more rundown than I expected."
That was her first impression of the ivy-covered building.
No wonder, with no resident priest for maintenance.
Opening the deep teal door stirred up dust. It had been shut so long, it creaked loudly.
This place needs cleaning too...
The maids hadn't reached here yet.
"Still, Lady Seranna held a small wedding here. All the truly pious in the Bayern family exchanged vows in this very spot."
The lady gazed nostalgically at the long pews.
Ibel let her reminisce and stepped forward.
She stopped behind the altar, before the stained-glass window filling the wall.
The angel, pieced from glass, had hands clasped at her chest, eyes closed.
Her wings shimmered in pure blue and silver, with thin golden sunlight threading between.
"Such a beautiful space... it's a shame it's going to waste."
"Isn't it? Now that I look, that angel resembles you, dear."
The lady responded brightly to Ibel's murmur.
Ibel brushed off the impossible comparison with a light laugh.
"We should clean it up. Make it usable for the faithful."
"Oh, what a wonderful idea. Will you hire a priest too?"
"Maybe."
Servants, being employed, rarely made it to chapel. Maybe once on a day off.
That's why it was on the estate grounds.
A resident priest would be convenient in many ways.
...So, great God. Do you have no message for me?