Elizabeth Lauderdale was anxious. Even the small, habitual smile she usually wore was nowhere to be found. She bit her red lip.
"I never imagined it would come to this."
When she first heard about the marriage proposal from Mikhail Sokolov, she had been so miserable she couldn't sleep. A commoner. A vulgar, ignorant man who had grown up doing menial labor at the docks. No matter how much money he had now, a person could never truly hide their origins.
Elizabeth recalled the summer she turned sixteen, the year she debuted in high society. Every year, one of the debutantes was chosen as the Rose Queen. Naturally, that year’s Rose Queen had been Elizabeth. A noble lineage from Ils. A father active in the Senate. A family business that ran smoothly. Added to that was the perfect etiquette and conduct the Countess had painstakingly instilled in her.
With Elizabeth’s beauty added to all of that, the result had been a foregone conclusion.
Every woman chosen as the Rose Queen had a wedding that became the talk of the town. Not in a bad way, but in a good one. At every one of their weddings, not only were their names splashed across the front of the newspapers, but the amount of money spent and the types of flowers used were the subjects of endless conversation.
Elizabeth had been confident. It wasn't arrogance. It was only natural that she should have everything. But once she began the serious business of courtship, there were only mediocre men to be found. It wasn't that there were no proposals from honorable families, but the men were either far too old or had significant flaws.
Elizabeth wanted a perfect husband. Only then would her future be perfect as well. So, Elizabeth turned her eyes toward Ils.
Although Novgod called itself an empire, if one looked at a map, it was a country skewed toward the west. The culture she admired originated from the center of the continent. From Ils, and even further to the ancient kingdom of Cleringia, which even Ils admired. Elizabeth threw herself into studying the Ils language, which she had previously neglected. Surely, among the nobles of Ils, there would be someone to her liking.
But all that effort had been in vain. Her father’s death had killed her future along with him.
Elizabeth briefly reminisced about her father.
The Count had not been an affectionate father. Like the daughters of other noble families, Elizabeth had not expected great affection from him. As long as he fulfilled his duties as the head of the house, he was a good enough father. That was why Elizabeth hadn't been surprised when her father brought Anastasia home. However, she had thought her father crossed a line when he said he would give her the Lauderdale name. A bastard with the family name? It was preposterous.
"But..."
When she first saw Anastasia, Elizabeth had been puzzled. The child didn't resemble her father in the slightest. Yet, why would he insist on keeping her under his roof, even fighting with her mother over it?
It gave her the creeps. Could it be that her father hadn't brought the child home to be his daughter, but rather...?
Elizabeth had placed one of her favorite maids in the room next to Anastasia’s. Just to resolve her suspicions. Perhaps it was fortunate. The thing Elizabeth had feared never came to pass before the Count died.
Elizabeth remembered the day her father passed away.
Her father had left for the Edenhurst hunting grounds in the morning and had not returned by evening. Sensing that something was wrong, the Countess sent all the servants to scour the hunting grounds, and before long, the Count was found lying beside a rock. He was already dead, blood flowing from his head. The horse the Count had been riding was found panting heavily quite some distance away.
"Edward killed him."
He was a younger brother who was said to be like an angel, but not on that day. When Edward came out with a gun, the horse seemed to sense its fate and struggled to run away from him. But Edward fired his gun at the horse without hesitation.
Gunshots rang out in succession, and the horse collapsed on the spot. The Countess fainted again at the sight, and Edward ordered them to clear it away because he didn't want to look at it. A stable hand had knelt beside the dead horse, weeping as he said:
"That shouldn't have happened... She was such a smart creature..."
But what did it matter? It was the horse that had thrown the Count to his death. One could say that ending its life with a gun was an act of mercy. And that night...
Elizabeth shook her head. It was because a past she alone should know had surfaced.
In any case, starting with that incident, the family began its path to ruin.
"That’s why I intended to accept it all."
Elizabeth had to choose. Would she crawl into a relative’s house and live like a maid, or would she marry a wealthy commoner and enjoy the same abundance she had known until now? Elizabeth chose the latter. The idea of working with her own hands was unthinkable. Even if she could never show her face in high society again, she needed the maids to serve her, a comfortable mansion, and an overflow of possessions.
So, she had called for Mikhail, thinking of it as a sacrifice, but...
"It was completely different from what I thought."
She had imagined a vulgar man. She thought he would have a burly body, drape himself in expensive fabrics, speak without refinement, and spout ignorant nonsense. Hadn't Catherine also worried that the man might spit on the floor during dinner? But Mikhail was more perfect than any man Elizabeth had ever seen.
From his handsome appearance to his sturdy-looking frame. Even his manners were flawless. Her mother didn't seem to notice, but he had smiled slightly when he saw the head maid pouring tea. He had recognized the head maid’s incompetence. Yet, he did not point it out. He was a man who even possessed the consideration not to make others feel uncomfortable.
As they began to converse, Elizabeth could only be more surprised.
"His Ils was perfect, too."
Elizabeth had studied hard to marry a noble from Ils. So, in front of Mikhail, she quoted a poem in the Ils language to show off her merits.
"He who seeks wisdom, fill the storehouse and stack the firewood. If you do so..."
"...you shall be able to see beyond the winter."
Before Elizabeth could finish her sentence, Mikhail had spoken the rest of the verse. And in very fluent Ils, at that. When everyone looked surprised, Mikhail said gently:
"One cannot help but learn the Ils language when working."
That couldn't be true. There was no reason for a merchant to learn poetry in Ils. Even among the nobles who frequented the Imperial Palace, there were few who could recite poetry, even if they were fluent in the language. Yet, he had finished the verse she started immediately. Elizabeth decided not to test Mikhail’s cultivation any further. It seemed she would be the one whose shallowness was exposed first.
When dinner ended and they moved to another room, Catherine quickly went to her mother and whispered. She suggested that she should be the one to marry Mikhail instead. She argued that if she married Mikhail and inherited the Lauderdale title, her sister could take a generous dowry and go to a noble in Ils with Mikhail’s support.
Elizabeth saw her mother’s eyes waver at Catherine’s words. Certainly, doing as Catherine suggested would yield greater practical benefits. Hadn't she herself said she hoped for something like that before Mikhail arrived? But it wouldn't happen.
Catherine could not have him. Because she had already made up her mind to have him for herself.
Just then, there was a knock, and a maid entered. Elizabeth shook off her thoughts and smoothed her dress.
"My lady, the preparations are complete."
"Very well."
Elizabeth rose from her seat. Thinking of Anastasia brought a wave of irritation. Why did she have to appear in such a state? Because of that, the Countess was fretting, thinking her shame had been exposed, and Mikhail’s attention was focused in that direction.
But the fortunate thing was that while it seemed he wouldn't stay long during dinner, he had attached his secretary, who was a doctor, to Anastasia’s side, which meant his stay would be extended a little longer. So, Elizabeth decided to show a little mercy to Anastasia.
The maid led the way for Elizabeth. A moment later, Elizabeth saw the room newly prepared on the floor above her own. A room decorated with items brought from her old quarters to give it a lived-in feel. The tattered clothes brought from the basement were also placed there.
Until Mikhail left, this room was Anastasia’s.
It wouldn't take long for the marriage proposal to be finalized. It was Mikhail who was in a hurry, and once it was confirmed, there would be more preparations to make in the capital than staying at Edenhurst. So, she decided to be generous to Anastasia in the meantime. Because there would be no "after that."
*** "Are you having any trouble moving your fingers?"
"……."
"The inflammation from the wounds on your feet was quite severe. You must make sure to take the medicine left here three times a day."
"……."
Despite Igor’s words, Anastasia remained huddled under the covers, with only her eyes peeking out. She looked like the women from those distant lands who were said to keep their bodies hidden. Igor turned toward Mikhail and shrugged. It was his way of saying there was nothing he could do.
When Mikhail looked at him, Igor stood up. Mikhail sat in Igor’s place and asked with a smile, "Why were you in the garden at that hour?"
"……."
Naturally, Anastasia did not answer, instead averting her gaze. Seeing her act as if she were ready to flee from them at any moment, Mikhail stroked his chin for a moment. He gestured for Igor to step back, then asked again in a low voice.
"Are there many interesting things in the forest?"
"……!"
When Anastasia looked at him, startled by the question, Mikhail smiled even more brightly.
He had only made a calculated guess, but to think she would react so transparently. Mikhail was beginning to understand how to handle Anastasia.
"So, we did meet in our forest back then…."
Before Mikhail could even finish his sentence, Anastasia scrambled toward him and grabbed the hem of his clothes.
"Please, don't tell the Countess… please…."
Mikhail looked at her thin hand, which was gripping him so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. It wasn't unpleasant to have those bandaged, messy fingers clinging to him. Ignoring her plea as if he hadn't heard it, Mikhail smiled and said, "My name is Mikhail Sokolov. That man over there is Igor. His name is Igor Vasilyevich Yakovlev, but Igor is quite enough."
Hearing Mikhail’s words, Igor clutched his head. *Why on earth is he telling people his full, real name?*
"I… I am called Anastasia…."
Anastasia could not bring herself to say the name "Lauderdale," and she bowed her head low again. She had given her name, but she didn't know what else to say. More than that….
Anastasia lifted her head slightly. She saw a face that was still wearing a smile. Blue eyes devoid of contempt. A pretty face… that was smiling at her….
In that moment, without realizing it, Anastasia reached out and placed her hand on his face.
"Hmm?"
Mikhail didn't pull away; he merely rolled his eyes slightly, as if he found it amusing. At the sound of Mikhail’s voice, Anastasia was shocked by what she had done and quickly pulled her hand back.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just…."
Cowering, Anastasia couldn't believe what she had done. She must be insane. Or perhaps a demon had briefly possessed her. To reach out and touch a guest—a man, no less—simply because he looked beautiful.
Unlike Anastasia, who repeated the same words like a parrot, Mikhail said nothing, merely tracing the spot on his face where her hand had touched him just moments ago.
Just then, a knock sounded, and the maid’s voice announced that the Countess had arrived. As Igor opened the door, a crowd of people poured in. Starting with the Countess, there was Elizabeth, Catherine, and of course, the head maid and the other maids.
*I suppose the preparations are finished now.*
Watching the crowd swarm in, Mikhail stood up and approached them.
"I heard the news that Anastasia had woken up, so I came. Thank you for taking care of her in the meantime. The doctor called from the village has arrived, so I believe it is time for Anastasia to return to my room."
Mikhail glanced behind him. He saw Anastasia, who had already wrapped herself back up in the blankets on the bed. He immediately withdrew his gaze and bowed politely to the Countess.
"Of course. Although it was for the sake of treatment, I sincerely apologize for the rudeness we have shown to the young lady of Lauderdale."
"…Rudeness? We are only grateful that you offered a helping hand."
Faced with Mikhail, who had taken the initiative to bow first, the Countess could not bring herself to utter a word of blame. Mikhail left the room cleanly, as if he had no further business with Anastasia. Igor, who had seen him sitting there just moments ago chatting with Anastasia, was flustered but hurried to follow him.
The Countess signaled to Elizabeth, then caught Catherine, who was trying to follow Mikhail. In the meantime, Elizabeth stepped out into the hallway first. Soon, the sound of Elizabeth’s voice inviting Mikhail to tour Edenhurst reached them, followed by Mikhail’s reply that it would be an honor. Only then did the Countess release Catherine’s hand.
Ignoring Catherine, who was on the verge of tears, the Countess looked at Anastasia on the bed.
Everything was going well. And so….
"Wash her thoroughly and send her upstairs. See that she lacks for nothing."
The Countess, too, decided to grant Anastasia one last, grand act of mercy.
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