Now I Don't Even Know Anymore
We arrived at the Frederik Duke's castle. Walter and Res unpacked right away, while I headed alone to the dinner invitation from the duchess.
Getting a dinner invite right upon arrival? Not a bad start.
Mendel led me to the banquet hall where the duke and duchess awaited. The high ceilings and ornate interior made it feel like I'd stepped into the Palace of Versailles.
Well, the duchess does seem to love decorating. She probably designed it to her tastes.
My steps were light from the unexpectedly warm reception, but then a sinking feeling hit me, like staring into an abyss of darkness.
Hold on. Fuck, this wasn't all built with my money, was it?
Thinking about it, the owner of this extravagantly beautiful castle was several generations above Rachel, the clerk at the territory office. Realizing that ignited a surge of anger, spiking my blood pressure.
"Hoo..."
"Haha, you seem quite tense."
Mendel, completely misreading my mood, tried to ease my worries with small talk.
"Mendel, may I ask what kind of person Duke Frederik is?"
"Curious about our liege, are you?"
"I don't know much about him. It might be good to prepare in case his name comes up at dinner."
Mendel cleared his throat with a faint smile at my question.
"The duke is a kind man. He cherishes his family greatly... and he's quite the doting husband."
"I see. And that portrait...?"
"Ah, that's the portrait of the late first wife."
"The first wife?"
It was a stunning silver-haired woman whose portrait filled one wall of the corridor. Her eyes and elegant dress were painted in emerald green, exuding refined grace.
"She was truly beautiful in life."
"Ah... so the one who invited me is...?"
"The second wife. The banquet hall is just ahead. This way, please."
"Soon" turned out to mean passing the first wife's portrait and navigating several more corners of the excessively long hallway before we finally arrived.
The table was so long I hesitated over where to sit, but a maid approached silently and guided me to my seat.
"It's been a while, Minor. You must be tired from the journey."
"Not at all, Madam. The carriage you sent made it quite comfortable."
"I'm glad."
The duchess, seated next to her son, wore a far gentler, warmer expression than when I'd seen her at the Beauty Tower.
"Logan, Oscar, this is Director Minor. He runs the Beauty Tower, the magic tower everyone's talking about—a doctor."
"You look much younger than I expected. Mom's told me about you. Take good care of us."
"Logan Frederick, the eldest son of the Frederik family. Welcome."
The silver-haired eldest who greeted me last must be Logan, making the second son with the same pale green hair as the duchess—Oscar.
"Young Master Oscar, Young Master Logan, thank you for the warm welcome."
Once greetings were done, dinner began.
My first top-tier meal since arriving in this world. The steak would have Gordon Ramsay throwing up two thumbs; it melted in my mouth. The other dishes were so exquisite I wanted to stand and applaud.
Ah! Get a grip, Minho. You're here on business!
Tempted momentarily by cuisine befitting my status, I quickly refocused.
"Is the food to your liking?"
"It's hands-down the best meal I've had since crossing to the West Continent."
"Glad to hear it."
The duchess continued while cutting her food.
"The social ball is five days away. All I want is for my boy to shine brighter than anyone there during that time—that's it. I'm leaving his hair, ball gown, makeup, everything to you. I hear you're excellent at skin care too?"
"Yes. Over the next five days, I'll do my utmost for the young masters—"
"Just Oscar, the second son, needs the care."
"...Understood."
I'm not oblivious. Combining what I'd heard on the way here, Logan, the eldest, must be the son of the late first wife. Whether because he wasn't the duchess's biological son or due to some family complications, he was getting this treatment—but I couldn't know for sure.
My philosophy: no good ever comes from meddling in other families' affairs, regardless of era. So I dropped the topic of Logan.
"You probably saw the portrait on the way. I'm not Logan's birth mother. But I care for him with more love than anyone."
The duchess gave a wry smile, as if reading my face.
"He's just not well enough to attend the ball this time. His health has always been poor."
"Mother's right. She raised me like her own in place of my ailing birth mother. I still get headaches and dizziness, but I've heard so many intriguing stories about you, Doctor Minor, that I made time."
The duchess, the intervening eldest son, and the watching second son—each microexpression betrayed different meanings. But I needed more confirmation.
"No misunderstanding. As a doctor, may I examine Young Master Logan's condition?"
"Would you? If you can cure him, the reward will be generous. I'd appreciate it after dinner."
Main course and lavish epilogue desserts followed, wrapping up dinner in a warm atmosphere.
Now, time to check the young master's condition.
"If you'll excuse me, Young Master. May I examine you briefly?"
"Thank you. First, have the maids and servants leave."
At Logan's words, the maids and servants quietly exited the banquet hall.
"Besides headaches, any other symptoms?"
"Dizziness sometimes. And appetite's been waning."
"..."
As I thoroughly examined Logan without speaking, he continued.
"Finding the cause will be tough. Even the magic tower mages and family doctors couldn't pinpoint it."
"When did symptoms start?"
Logan pondered briefly.
"Hmm... Since childhood, but they've worsened over the last five years."
Anemia occurs when red blood cell count or hemoglobin drops. Headaches and anemia have varied causes, making guesses risky.
"I'm sorry. I can't find anything unusual either. But I have medicine that can temporarily ease headaches—I'll deliver it tomorrow."
After scanning Logan's body with mukjin and admitting ignorance before returning to my seat, the duchess looked deeply disappointed.
"Oh... I hoped you'd identify Logan's mystery illness..."
She bit her lip, unable to hide her regret.
"Sorry I couldn't help."
"No need to apologize. A mother's heart can't be hidden."
"That's how mothers are."
"Thanks for joining us. Rest after your long trip. You start on Oscar tomorrow."
"Then good night."
"Minorr! I ate super yummy stuff! With Walter in his room!"
Back in my room, Res charged at me with food smeared around her mouth. I blocked her by grabbing her belly before she could cling.
"I ate well too. Go wash up quick. The maids prepared water."
"Chii, fine, washing now."
"Grab toothpaste and brush from the bag! Tartar builds up!"
After nagging Res, I flopped onto the sofa.
My "good night" to the duchess didn't match my unsettled mind. Their microexpressions—especially the duchess and her biological son Oscar—suggested they were hiding something.
Can't fully trust microexpressions. Not foolproof.
That odd dissonance lingered as my first night in the duke's castle faded.
The next morning, after breakfast, Res and I arrived at the second young master's room.
"Young Master Oscar, Director Minor has arrived."
"Yeah, let 'em in."
At Oscar's okay, the guiding maid opened the door.
"Good morning, Young Master. This is Res, our Beauty Tower employee and my assistant hatchling, and Walter."
"Walter here."
Walter gave a curt bow, while shy Res clung to my leg, peeking out.
"Whoa, a hatchling employee? Magic towers are quirky, but Beauty Tower takes the cake?"
She's not the only quirky one. We've got witches, ex-heretic inquisitors, half-elves turning the parking lot into a botanical garden.
"Young, but highly capable."
"Yeah? Sell her to me? Price?"
"Sorry, but as I said, she's staff, not for sale..."
"Haha, relax. Just kidding—she's cute."
This kid, just turned 18, slapping my shoulder annoyed me. Eldest is only two years older, but his speech and demeanor feel a decade apart.
"Then, let's start with hair today. Any preferred style?"
"Hmm... not really? Oh! Heard permed hair's trending—can you do that?"
Permed hair reaching here? Surprising.
"Young Master, are you in the Young Young Association?"
"Haha, me in Young Young? They still send invites, but no. Too old for their pranks."
Oscar shrugged.
"Honestly, they're picky, but not my level. Don't wanna join, but they're trendsetters. Haha. Curious, though."
Pre-trend talk, I'd have given him comma hair. Business mode now.
I don't even know anymore.
"Permed cut it is."
And that day, another white leader comrade was born.