"I just played with him because he looked bored and was the only child around. I didn't know which house he belonged to."
Come to think of it, she hadn't even asked his name. Curtis, who had buried himself deep into the back of his chair, closed his eyes slowly.
"He is Young Master Theo. The heir to the Principality of Anatol."
"Oh..."
Roxana’s mouth fell open in shock. No wonder his confident demeanor and extraordinary aura had felt like that of a child from a high-ranking family. But she never imagined his status was that high.
"If I have committed an act of rudeness..."
"It is quite the opposite, Roxana."
Curtis, who had cut her off, opened his eyes.
"He said he liked you very much and wanted to see you again before he left."
His expression was unreadable—he looked either angry or simply exhausted. A fire ignited in his gray eyes. It was that look again. A gaze that felt as if it would burst into flames at any moment, engulfing her and burning her to ash. Roxana swallowed hard, her nerves taut.
"I cannot do that. My status and identity must not be revealed. Is there no way to refuse?"
"Roxana."
Curtis, who had been leaning back, straightened his posture and reached out. In an instant, the long blonde wig was pulled away, revealing her shoulder-length red hair.
He gripped her chin as if to tell her not to even think about dodging, and asked in a low voice, "Do you know who Young Master Theo’s uncle is?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked if you know who he is."
His hot breath brushed past her ear and warmed the nape of her neck. His sharp eyes, the arrogantly bridged nose, and his stubborn lips were so close they were nearly touching. He looked like a bird of prey eyeing its kill. The hand that held her chin slid downward. As if mocking the rapid pulse beating against her throat, Curtis pressed his face even closer. When their noses brushed, Roxana struggled to push him away.
"...No. I don't know."
She denied it, but the strength of his grip did not waver. Roxana remained frozen, meeting the eyes of the man who looked ready to devour her.
"He is someone you know."
"..."
"Enoch Ferentz. Your..."
Curtis paused, then finished the sentence as if spitting out the words.
"Your former fiancé."
Roxana’s pupils trembled uncontrollably. He withdrew his hand and delivered the news.
"Ten days from now, we have been invited to his villa."
"Surely you refused, didn't you?"
"No. Until Young Master Theo returns to his home country, you must live as Melanie Dalton, my cousin."
It was unbelievable. This was madness. He had accepted? Roxana shook her head involuntarily.
"Couldn't you have refused? Or, by any chance..."
"Are you asking if I didn't refuse on purpose?"
It was a sharp question. Curtis cut her off and smiled faintly.
"You decide that. As you know, I am quite fickle, Roxana."
He had encountered the Duke while on his way to find Frey and Roxana, who had stepped outside for a moment.
"It has been a while, Margrave."
The man who spoke was a personification of the word nobility. Platinum blonde hair without a single speck of dirt or flaw, and piercing blue eyes. Enoch Ferentz.
Black and white. Evil and good.
Everyone compared the two men. It was because they were the same age and held significant power despite their youth.
The nobility and knight factions who had received their titles relatively recently supported him, as he was progressive and had broken many precedents. On the other hand, the established nobility, who sought to protect legitimacy and tradition, supported the Duke.
Curtis found the schemes of the two factions, who intentionally compared them and tried to pit them against each other, laughable and pathetic. It seemed the other party felt the same, as the two had never clashed significantly. In fact, they had barely exchanged words even at the council of lords.
However, just because they didn't play along with others' wishes didn't mean they weren't, frankly, on uncomfortable terms. After all, he had wiped out the family of the Duke's former fiancée.
"I see. What is the reason for your greeting?"
When he asked for the purpose of the conversation, discarding all pretense of courtesy, the Duke, whose brow furrowed ever so slightly, got straight to the point as well.
"It seems the relative you came with has stepped away for a moment."
"...Is there some business?"
"I heard she played with my nephew. Theo wishes to invite her to his winter villa."
At that moment, something fierce surged within his chest. Roxana was his. He had killed her once, and he had spared her once. Whether he killed her again or let her live was his choice alone. *You are the one who discarded your fiancée long ago. If you were going to save her, you should have done it two years ago.* Perhaps sensing his hardened expression, the Duke took a step back.
"Ah, it seems it was a rather sudden proposal. If it is inconvenient, you may decline."
"..."
"I have absolutely no other intentions. You seem to cherish your relative very much, Lord Russell."
His gaze was that of someone dealing with an overprotective guardian. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Greg’s words suddenly surfaced in his mind.
"Surely you wouldn't take a daughter of the House of Dalton as your wife."
A chill ran down his spine. This was nothing more and nothing less than possessiveness.
To prove that to himself, he impulsively accepted the offer. If her identity wasn't discovered, that was enough. Roxana Dalton was the only flaw of the Duke, one that would never be found even if he were shaken down for dust. It was well known that he had treated his former fiancée coldly. He certainly wouldn't recognize her. In truth, it was a half-impulsive decision born of bravado.
"It’s too reckless. It’s dangerous. Can’t you refuse even now?"
"Why?"
"Because..."
"Rumor has it you and the Duke have barely even seen each other's faces. Was it more than that?"
His tone was light, as if he were probing, but it was edged with something sharp. Startled, Roxana shook her head.
"There was nothing more. It is just as the rumors say. But that is not the issue."
Her honest answer softened his hardened expression. Curtis, leaning back into his chair again, made a proposal.
"Shall we make another bet, Roxana?"
"A bet?"
"If the Duke recognizes you while we are staying at the villa, it is my victory. Conversely, if he does not recognize you, you win."
His tone was so light, as if he were suggesting a bet on what to have for lunch, that Roxana lowered her eyes. Even though her life was at stake in this serious situation, the face before her remained indifferent. He was a man who would teach her to dance in the moonlight one day and act with unbridled cruelty the next. Like a man playing with a mouse he had cornered.
Perhaps making her a maid was just a way to keep her close and watch her wither away. Swallowing a bitter smile, Roxana parted her lips.
"Since you called it a bet, I will ask. What do I get if I win?"
Curtis, who had been silent as if thinking about her cautious question, replied.
"I will give you a week of vacation."
In any case, refusal was not an option for her. It was better to gain something. A spark of interest flickered in Roxana’s eyes as she asked, "Very well. Then, what if I lose?"
"..."
"Will it be my life again?"
"No."
Out of the question. Curtis denied her words before he could even think.
"I told you. If you do exactly as I say, I will guarantee your life."
"Then what?"
His narrowed gaze peered intently at her tense face. Caught in an inexplicable tension, Roxana froze like a frog before a snake.
"I haven't decided yet. I will tell you when I do."
It was a one-sided bet. Yet, Roxana accepted it quietly. The die had already been cast, and she was in no position to raise an objection. She felt thoroughly reminded by Curtis. That she was the one in the position of absolute weakness.
* * *
Taking the banquet as an opportunity, Frey began to step out of her room and start activities little by little. She helped knead flour at the mill and even went to the barn to help milk the cows.
"Oh my, Milady! You don't have to do this! I will do it!"
"If the Lord sees this, we’ll be in big trouble! Please, let us do it!"
The terrified maids rolled up their sleeves and tried to stop her, but it was to no avail. The person they could rely on was her assigned maid, Roxana, but she went a step further and encouraged Frey to do various things.
"How about trying to milk the goat this time? I’ll hold it steady for you."
"Roxana!"
Kesi, who had turned pale, grabbed Roxana and pulled her outside.
"Are you out of your mind? What are you thinking! If the Lord sees this, we’ll be in big trouble!"
"Don't worry. He is very busy right now, and this is what the young lady wants."
"No. Still!"
Roxana smiled at Kesi, who was stamping her feet.
"Can't you see the young lady's expression, Kesi?"
Kesi’s gaze turned toward Frey, who was clumsily but diligently milking the cow. The moment she recognized her expression, Kesi’s mouth fell open.
"She is... smiling?"
"She is very happy. She looks more vibrant than when she went to the banquet."
Frey had just emerged into the sunlight after a long life in a cave. Roxana felt proud and touched by Frey, who had made such a big decision. She wanted to grant her everything she desired.
"Roxana!"
Frey, having filled a bucket with milk, looked around.
"Yes!"
Roxana answered as if she had been waiting and returned to Frey, only to see a familiar face. It was Olivia, who had almost gotten into big trouble when she came to the castle in place of her sister, Kesi, before. Thanks to Robert’s consideration, Olivia had been hired as a chore maid and had started working.
Roxana’s face lit up at the sight of the face she rarely saw, as she was usually so busy with work.
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