Chapter 19
Salary Negotiation
“How was she?”
After Cornelia left, the butler, Fenel, quietly asked the true power of the Marquis’s household, Lady Chiara, who was elegantly savoring her tea.
Chiara’s lips curved upward in amusement.
“She said she wants time to think.”
“What?”
Fenel’s eyes widened.
She refused the young lady’s offer?
If it were anyone other than another high noble, such words would be unthinkable. To ask for time to reconsider a Marquis’s proposal was practically sacrilege.
He glanced at his mistress anxiously, but to his surprise, she didn’t look offended at all.
“I like her,” Chiara said softly. “It makes me want her even more.”
“…My lady, please refrain from saying things that could be… misunderstood.”
Fenel decided to interpret it as simple admiration — that Lady Chiara was very taken with Cornelia.
Chiara brushed back her lush hair and gave her next order.
“People like her are always the hardest to win over. Money won’t convince them. Find out what she really wants and offer it — whatever it is.”
Once she had her mind set on something, Chiara Aurelius always got it.
“Yes, my lady.”
Fenel bowed, though he couldn’t help wondering whether this girl was truly worth all that trouble.
After all, she was a fallen noble. He had thought she’d come running the moment they offered her a generous salary.
***
“This is what she asked for?”
When Fenel returned from meeting Cornelia again, his expression was grim.
Chiara, scanning the list of conditions in her hand, narrowed her eyes.
“Leaving work at six sharp, two days off a week, no after-hours contact, and overtime pay for extra hours?”
“She said she doesn’t need housing support, but she wants those terms reflected in the contract.”
From Fenel’s perspective, it was absurd.
At the Marquis’s estate, servants stayed in the attached quarters, always ready to come running when summoned. Even aides who commuted from home were expected to remain on standby at all times.
There’s no way Her Ladyship will approve this. It’s ridiculous.
If Cornelia had asked for more money, Chiara would have given it without question. But this?
Fenel braced himself for a scolding.
“…Bring her here tomorrow,” Chiara finally said.
“Yes, my lady.”
“How bold of her.”
Fenel secretly assumed that Cornelia would back down quickly.
But the next day, when Cornelia arrived with a bright smile and not a hint of fear, even Fenel was taken aback.
“Is this your way of refusing me?”
Chiara’s tone carried a touch of displeasure — even hurt.
But the girl from a minor noble family simply blinked, her eyes wide with honest confusion.
“What do you mean? You told me to state my conditions, so I did.”
There wasn’t even a trace of deceit in her expression.
“You’re refusing the mansion’s lodging, and yet you act like these rules are more important. Convince me.”
Fenel silently agreed — it didn’t make sense.
Cornelia, however, spoke without hesitation, her gentle voice clear and steady.
“When my employer faces an important task, I’ll, of course, stay late and help without complaint. I only hope that doesn’t become an everyday expectation.”
“Explain further.”
Chiara straightened slightly, leaning forward with curiosity.
“I have a younger brother who’s ill,” Cornelia said simply. “So I want to finish work on time and spend my evenings taking care of him — with my family. As his guardian, that’s my responsibility.”
“…Is that all?”
“There’s another reason. I believe separating work from personal life makes one more focused at work. No one can avoid conflicts or mistakes on the job, and I’m sure there will come a time when I fall short of your expectations, my lady. In those moments, forcing myself to stay late out of guilt would only worsen my performance. Proper rest and clear boundaries will benefit not only me, but you as well.”
It was an argument neither Chiara nor Fenel had ever heard before — but it wasn’t without merit.
In fact, Chiara’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes.
“Of course,” Cornelia continued calmly, “I’ll make sure to complete everything within working hours. Overtime doesn’t necessarily mean better work.”
Fenel thought he heard her mutter something like “unless the boss dumps endless work on you”, but decided to pretend he hadn’t.
“I see,” Chiara murmured thoughtfully.
After Cornelia left, Chiara sat quietly, gazing down at the document in her hands.
Was this girl worth changing her long-standing traditions for?
Fenel wondered the same but stayed silent, waiting patiently for his lady’s decision.
There’s no way she’ll accept those terms.
Cornelia hadn’t expected much.
After the initial offer, she had asked around — about what it was like to work as an aide to a noble household.
Everyone said the same thing: endless hours, no rest days, and always on call. If your lady was in a bad mood, you could be fired on the spot.
Lady Chiara doesn’t seem ordinary either.
When Fenel had shown her the offer letter, Cornelia’s gut had screamed trouble.
There’s no such thing as free money.
Of course, the pay would be higher — the work was more demanding.
But living under the same roof as a noble and surrendering her freedom? That was too high a price.
She still wanted to earn more, yes — but not by selling her soul to gilded servitude.
And now, after her time at Daijo, she believed she could find another way.
So she had simply told them the truth — the terms she truly wanted.
If they agree, great. If not, that’s fine too.
While lost in thought, Cornelia was at one of the Black Dia stores for an inspection visit.
“Back to work,” she muttered, shaking off her worries.
She noticed murmurs among the staff — and then her gaze followed theirs.
A tall man stood in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by delicate cosmetics and perfume bottles, looking completely out of place — like a wolf in a garden of roses.
The female customers were stealing glances, whispering to each other, but none dared approach.
His presence was too cold, too distant — the kind of beauty that warned you to stay away.
Cornelia realized she’d seen him before — the man who’d bought that luxury fountain pen.
Right. No wonder he looked familiar. Who could forget that face?
At the counter, one of the clerks whispered, “He’s been standing there for over fifteen minutes.”
That meant he was truly agonizing over something.
It’s not easy for a man to walk into a cosmetics store alone…
And the man’s brows were deeply furrowed, his face taut with concentration.
Cornelia’s sense of compassion — or maybe curiosity — kicked in.
“May I help you with something?”
The man slowly turned his head toward her.
He’s not wearing makeup or anything, and yet he looks better than any actor I’ve ever seen.
To avoid sounding overly forward, she quickly added, “I work for the company—”
“I want to buy a gift,” he interrupted smoothly. “But I don’t know what to choose.”
Ah. So much for the cold, unapproachable image.
Feeling slightly embarrassed for judging too soon, Cornelia decided to make up for it by being extra professional.
“Is it for someone special? If you don’t mind me asking — perhaps a lover?”
The surrounding chatter suddenly went quiet.
“No,” he replied flatly. “It’s for my mother and older sister.”
The tension in the air vanished instantly.
So he’s a family man. How unexpected.
“There are many colors, so it can be difficult to decide.”
He nodded once, curtly.
“If you describe their appearance — hair color, eye color, skin tone, what color dresses they usually wear — I can recommend something suitable.”
“…Hmm.” His brow furrowed deeper.
Cornelia quickly simplified.
“Or you can point out similar colors in the shop — anything close to their look.”
That seemed to help. The man began describing, and from his words — assuming the women resembled him — Cornelia selected matching tones.
She chose elegant lipsticks, blushes, and eye palettes, wrapping them neatly into two pretty sets.
The man watched her intently the entire time, his gaze sharp enough to freeze the air.
If looks could break glass, every perfume bottle here would be shattered.
Cornelia finally finished the packaging just as Yul, her senior colleague, entered the store.
He hurried over, bowed briefly to the customer, then whispered in Cornelia’s ear.
“Starting tomorrow, report to the Marquisate. They accepted your terms.”
“…What?”
Yul gave her a couple of pats on the shoulder.
“Finish up with this customer and come back.”
Then he disappeared as quickly as he came.
Cornelia stood frozen, dumbfounded.
They… accepted? Those conditions?
She could hardly believe it.
“Is everything all right?” the man asked, his tone polite despite his cold expression.
She snapped back to attention.
“I apologize for the delay.”
“It’s fine. It seems something important just happened.”
His voice was low but not unkind. Beneath the chill, there was a surprising warmth.
Cornelia handed over the two gift boxes — then paused.
On impulse, she reached into her bag and pulled out a slender case.
“And this,” she said, handing it to him. “A fountain pen. The latest model — it was just released today. I heard you’re a regular here, so I wanted to give you one.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll come by to buy it myself.”
“Please don’t worry. I just thought it might be my only chance to give it to you.”
He looked puzzled.
Cornelia smiled softly.
“Today’s my last day at work.”
