Chapter 50

# 50

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Nabia interjected when their idle chatter momentarily paused.

She asked Margaret.

"Is His Excellency Esselred awake by any chance? I have something to tell him."

"Hmm. He doesn't live by a strict schedule, and he rarely comes down from the third floor unless there's something important."

"Oh... Then, would it be alright if I went to his bedroom?"

At this, Margaret looked troubled.

"The third floor is restricted to certain people, so it might be difficult."

After saying this, Margaret quickly added an explanation, sensing that she might have seemed to be rejecting Nabia.

"If someone who hasn't been granted access to the third floor enters, a trick spell will be triggered. Then, well."

'She'll die.'

Nabia immediately understood the part Margaret couldn't bring herself to explain clearly.

At that moment, Minerva, who had been silent until then, quickly interjected.

"Me... I'll check if Master is awake first. Anyway, I'm bringing the medicine, oh."

Minerva made an "oops" face and rolled her eyes.

'Medicine? Ah, she means the anesthetic?'

Nabia had already suspected that there was something about the anesthetic.

'Could it be made from drugs...?'

But her pupils didn't seem dilated.

Nabia changed the subject to help the flustered Minerva.

"Then, I can't go see him in person... Can you deliver a letter for me?"

"A letter?"

Everyone looked bewildered at this unexpected suggestion.

After all, a letter to Lark.

'This must be her first letter.'

Thinking this, Schleman spoke up.

"Then I'll deliver the letter."

They were all excited by the outrageous idea of writing a letter to Lark.

It was already a significant and unconventional change that Lark had accepted Nabia as a guest.

'It's been ten years.'

The ink, pen, and paper were placed on the table almost instantly after the meal ended.

Nabia suppressed a smile as she saw everyone waiting for her letter with eager expressions, despite their curiosity about its contents.

The letter's content wasn't anything extraordinary.

To His Excellency Lark Esselred,

Firstly, I am deeply grateful for your kindness in accepting me as a guest of the family and for taking such good care of me.

Since you seem to dislike unnecessary formalities, I will get straight to the point.

As I mentioned yesterday, I want to help make the Esselred family even greater.

Please make me one of your retainers.

I will await your response.

Sincerely,

Nabia

Nabia wrote the letter in one swift motion and put down the pen.

"I'm done."

The speed at which she wrote, the accuracy without a single mistake, and even the perfectly consistent spacing and elegant handwriting were all impressive.

"My goodness."

Everyone was so amazed they couldn't stop exclaiming.

"Are you a genius, Miss Nabia?"

At Margaret's serious question, Nabia laughed softly.

"Not at all."

'I've just lived longer than most people and written a lot of letters.'

Moreover, to call someone a genius just because they wrote a clean letter.

Nabia thought Margaret must be a particularly encouraging and affectionate person.

But Schleman and Margaret didn't think it was that simple.

'Indeed... There's nothing ordinary about her.'

After all, Nabia was a child raised by the sinister Nikan Agnes to become an empress.

To have trained a child to this level in just one year, the process must have been incredibly harsh.

Schleman suddenly felt something was off.

'He was surprisingly willing to give up on the girl he had been grooming to be engaged to Prince Ares.'

From what he could see, Nikan would never find a child like Nabia again.

Nabia was unique.

'Nikan must know this.'

Nabia was not only clever but also exuded a natural dignity and authority even while injured.

Even her slightly unnatural movements due to bandages were more graceful than those of debutantes.

"Here. Please deliver it, Count."

Schleman took the letter Nabia neatly folded and handed to him, then suddenly asked.

"Why do you call me Count?"

"......Yes?"

"Call me Schleman."

Nabia, though flustered, managed to speak more easily than before.

"Ah... Yes, Schleman-sama."

Just calling his name made her feel so awkward.

Schleman couldn't hide his pride and smiled broadly when Nabia called him by his name.

'Hmm. Is this what it feels like to have a child in the house?'

He had already forgotten that he was rejecting Nabia and was grinning as he tucked the letter into his pocket.

"I'll make sure to deliver it."

* * *

Thus, Schleman went to Lark's bedroom early in the morning. Despite the sunny day, Lark's bedroom was as dark as night, except for a thin beam of light.

"Master!"

Schleman called out to Lark with a more energetic voice than usual.

Lark, lying on a long sofa, frowned deeply and slightly lifted his head.

"What is it?"

"I have something important to deliver."

Schleman took out the letter from the inner pocket of his jacket and extended it.

"It's a letter."

Lark stared at the letter Schleman was offering.

What do you want me to do with it?

That was the expression on his face.

"It's a letter from Miss Nabia. Please read it quickly."

'Ah, the girl from yesterday.'

Lark waved his hand and leaned his head back on the sofa.

"Burn it."

"Excuse me?"

Schleman, who would usually have thought, "Of course," reacted sensitively to this.

To burn a letter written with such effort by a child with a painful body.

Yet, he found it difficult to defy Lark's order.

After some thought, Schleman unfolded the letter and gently placed it on the marble table, pushing aside the bottles of medicine.

The bright letter on the black table stood out like the moon in the night sky.

"Um, I'll leave now."

Thud.

Light flooded the room for a moment before darkness returned.

Lark lay still, covering his eyes with his arm, immersed in silence.

The room should have felt as if time had stopped, but the letter Schleman left kept nagging at him.

Lark finally sat up abruptly.

"Hmm..."

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples.

"Why is Schleman suddenly so cheerful?"

He snapped his fingers, and the black curtains covering the windows were all drawn back, letting in a flood of bright light.

Lark picked up the letter on the table.

'That kid wrote a letter, didn't she?'

But the handwriting was perfect, like that of a master calligrapher.

He read the letter with a frown, and his impression after finishing was this.

"Huh."

A short, hollow laugh. That was his overall review of the letter's content.

"She wants me to give her a job after accepting her as a guest?"

She must be out of her mind.

Lark crumpled the letter.

He was about to ignite a flame in his hand and burn it.

"......"

Tsk.

Instead of burning it, Lark threw it on the floor.

"I'll await your response."

"I must be the one who's out of my mind."

He swept his hand over the table, and a piece of paper, ink, and pen appeared.

He wrote in a completely messy and vulgar manner, completely opposite to the breathtakingly beautiful handwriting of the letter he had received.

So be it.

"Schleman!"

He called Schleman's name in a not particularly loud voice, and the bedroom door burst open as if he had been waiting.

"Yes, Master."

Lark, who had been waiting outside the bedroom, glared at Schleman as he entered with a brazen expression and handed him the folded letter.

"Deliver it."

"Understood."

Schleman tried to hide his excitement with a serious expression, but it was completely evident.

"Damn it."

Lark finally thought that this garbage dump was completely going mad as he flopped back onto the bed.