Chapter 47

# 47

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The memories after that were fragmented, blurred by the deep sleep. Nabiya, half-asleep, received some easy-to-digest food when dinner time came and took her medicine. After swallowing the bitter medicine, a sweet honey water flowed into her mouth, which again made her feel drowsy.

"The medicine is a bit strong, so it might be hard to wake up," Minerva's voice echoed in her ears. Nabiya faintly remembered mumbling a thank you in her half-sleep.

Nabiya had never relaxed during her time in Agnes. She couldn't afford to let her guard down for even a moment, as she didn't know what might happen. The place was filled with hyenas who didn't even try to hide their hostility. However, that didn't mean this place was safe. Strangely, she could sleep more deeply here, as if she were a baby bird nestled under its mother's wing.

* * *

Nabiya gazed at the black canopy with blurry eyes. Her sleepy eyes still tried to gauge where she was.

"Oh, this is the Esselered mansion."

It wasn't the guest room in Agnes or the third-floor Emerald Room; it was Esselered. Realizing this, Nabiya let out a deep sigh of relief.

"I slept all day."

The dawn was visible in her field of vision.

"Did I spend two days here without realizing it?"

Nabiya shook off her sleep and calmly recalled what she needed to do. Lark had said he didn't need money, but that couldn't be true.

"At the very least, the lower-ranking retainers wouldn't think so."

Winning the favor of the retainers Lark trusted was as important as winning his favor.

"To do that, I need to... 'Get hired here?'"

Since the foster daughter option was off the table, becoming a retainer seemed like the better choice. Before starting her activities, Nabiya first looked for water. Drinking water to quench her hunger was an old habit of hers.

Then she saw it.

A basket full of cookies with chocolate chips embedded in them.

Yesterday, she was too sleepy to eat any snacks. She hadn't even thought about them, as she was already satisfied with the nutritious meals she had been having regularly.

These chocolate cookies were definitely hers.

Nabiya hesitated for a moment before carefully picking up a cookie. Since so much effort had gone into preparing them, she decided to try one.

Her small lips parted, and the tip of the cookie snapped off.

Munch.

Swallow.

Nabiya was at a loss for words.

'What is this taste?'

It was sweet. The apple juice was very sweet, but this was even sweeter. And there was a flavor she had never experienced before. It was slightly bitter, yet soft and rich, with a deep taste.

Ah, yes. It was aristocratic.

This taste was the epitome of aristocracy, something she had never been allowed to taste.

Chocolate was so delicious. Eating it made her so happy.

It was amazing. The taste was so amazing.

Nabiya didn't even realize she was devouring the cookies hastily. She then realized that only one cookie was left in the basket. And why were her hands so black?

Her palms were stained with the same color as the chocolate, which was very perplexing.

Nabiya was flustered by her lack of self-control but then calmed herself down.

'It's okay. I can just wipe my hands.'

However, there was nothing in the room to wipe her hands on.

'What should I do?'

Should she go outside to find a towel?

'...I'll go out first.'

Nabiya slowly got out of bed, her movements sluggish due to the lingering effects of the anesthesia, which caused a tingling pain throughout her body. She approached the door, clenched her fist, and groaned as she opened it.

Click.

Stepping out of the dark room, she saw an even darker corridor. Yesterday, she hadn't had the presence of mind to notice, but today, the sight was quite overwhelming.

'As if I were the master of this mansion.'

Nabiya thought the mansion was unusually quiet. Running such a large mansion would require a vast number of servants. Even if the family employed fewer servants, it would be hard for it to be this quiet. The absence of a guard at the front gate yesterday was also strange. And why would someone as high-ranking as Count Romanov be the mansion's chief steward?

All these things defied Nabiya's common sense. She recalled something Nikan had said boastfully.

"A family so poor they can't even afford servants, how can they be a duke? If that's the case, Esselered should return the title of duke."

'Sure, they seem to be in financial trouble. But the duke doesn't seem to care about money at all.'

Nabiya sighed deeply, unable to understand the reasons.

People usually desire money or power. If not, they desire people. They want to possess something.

Lark seemed uninterested in both money and power, so did he desire people?

If so, it was strange that he never left the house.

'Complicated.'

Regardless, it was nice to be able to walk around without worrying about someone's gaze. If this were a typical duke's mansion, she would have tried to wash her hands with snow from the window frame instead of wandering around without a dedicated maid.

Nabiya thought the mansion, devoid of any signs of life, felt like a ghost house.

'No, more like a coffin.'

The dark and quiet place felt like a coffin-shaped mansion. She wasn't sure why she had this impression. Perhaps it was because she was a regressed person and thus had a unique perspective.

'But why did Duke Esselered paint the mansion black?'

According to what she knew, the duke had painted the mansion black not for aesthetic reasons but as a result of some magic.

'If that's true, what kind of magic is on this mansion?'

Nabiya had a hunch that this was related to why Lark never left the mansion.

What secrets were hidden here, and how would they affect her survival?

"Headache."

As the variables to consider increased, Nabiya sighed and tried to press her temples but stopped.

'I need to clean my hands first.'

Noble mansions, while each having their own unique characteristics, generally followed similar rules. The room she was using was a bedroom, and near the bedroom, there was usually a dressing room or a lounge. The dressing room had a bathroom with towels for drying off after a bath.

Nabiya was looking for one of those towels.

'If I find the dressing room, I'll be fine.'

Nabiya was about to explore the room when she paused. She sensed someone ascending to the second floor and turned to see an elderly gentleman with white hair.

"Cough."

The elderly gentleman cleared his throat softly, seemingly surprised by the eye contact.

Nabiya already knew who he was.

'Count Schleimann Jeneger.'

He was the elderly gentleman who had appeared alongside Prince Creed in her previous life. Although he looked much younger than she remembered, his distinctive white hair and height, comparable to Lark's, made him easily recognizable.

However, at this point, she was supposed to be unaware of his identity. It was a delicate situation to address him by name and follow noble etiquette.

Nabiya, with dirty hands, opted for a simple bow instead of a handshake.

"Hello?"

Schleimann was well aware that his appearance was not particularly friendly. Children often got scared by his imposing figure and stern expression. However, Nabiya greeted him with a smile.

'Well, she's not afraid of the master, so it's no surprise.'

His gaze soon focused on Nabiya's silver hair and red eyes.

Silver hair was a rare color.

Red eyes were even rarer.

The girl possessed both.

This unusual combination made Schleimann pause.

'If the master had married earlier and had a child, he might have had a daughter with such beautiful eyes...'

The thought made him feel a bit melancholic.

Schleimann had come to the second floor early, before Margaret started her activities. Margaret had taken an immediate liking to Nabiya, feeling sorry for her, and might have tried to protect her.

Schleimann understood Margaret's feelings.

'She must be reminded of her deceased daughter.'

Her daughter had died of a magical backlash at the age of eight, the same age as Nabiya. It was no wonder she couldn't ignore a young girl who had suffered and been left here in rags.

However, Schleimann was more concerned about the danger Nabiya posed.

Nabiya was excessively intelligent.

Or perhaps, cunning was a better word.

An eight-year-old who could threaten the master without fainting? That was impossible.

'And her foresight and bold actions are definitely not those of a child.'

Schleimann suspected that Nabiya might have been trained in some way in Agnes, perhaps through mind control by magic.

'If that's the case, I need to confirm it myself.'

He approached the girl with the determination of a general facing an enemy commander.

He was determined not to be swayed by the girl's words or situation. However, Nabiya greeted him with a cheerful smile, her face and hands covered in chocolate.

Well, this was not at all what he had expected.