TGDHC Chapter 121

Chapter 121 – A New Life

Marzella sat on the cold stone floor of the underground prison, unfolding a piece of paper that had been folded many times.

When she opened it completely, a small pile of white powder appeared inside.

A few days earlier, Meisel had brought her a blanket. The corner stitching had been slightly loose.

When Marzella picked at the seam with her fingers, she found a tiny hole—and hidden inside, a piece of paper had been sewn into the lining.

That paper contained Meisel’s instructions, along with this powder.

‘How did my life end up like this?’

Marzella pressed her weak hand against her chest, swallowing her frustration.

‘If only I hadn’t taken that brooch… or gone to that merchant guild…’

No—actually, she could have lived without much trouble even after that.

Even the conflict with Leta had been something she could have fixed.

But everything went wrong when she got caught up in Meisel and the merchant guild leader’s revenge scheme.

Now she was about to lose not only her position as head maid, but everything she had built so far.

—“Nanny, why did you do such a thing?”

Just remembering the young lady’s voice made Marzella tremble with anger.

Earlier that day, she’d had several impulses to confess everything to the knights.

But she managed to keep her reason.

‘Now isn’t the time to act on emotions.’

Even if she revealed her accomplice, it wouldn’t reduce her punishment.

And what punishment would a count’s daughter even get? At worst, a fine—or house arrest.

Most of all, in her current situation, the only person she could still rely on was her former lady.

‘Because she’s the one most afraid of me talking.’

Marzella sighed several times as she looked at the powder.

The knights had said that the Duke himself would lead her interrogation soon. Whatever she was going to do, tonight was her last chance.

She knew there was no other way, yet her hand hesitated.

‘It’s fine. I’ve survived worse than this.’

Once again, she’d escape and live to see another day.

Marzella folded the paper neatly, removed the powder, and tucked the paper back into the blanket lining.

Meisel’s instructions had said to destroy the paper by eating it—but Marzella wasn’t stupid.

That piece of paper was the only proof she had left—and now, her lifeline.

When she escaped, she would make sure both Meisel and the merchant guild paid her properly for her silence.

And even if she failed, she still had her hidden stash of jewelry outside the castle walls.

That money would be enough to live comfortably for a while, without begging anyone for help.

‘I’m sick of serving others.’

Maybe she’d open a little shop.

Or perhaps start a small inn in Arsen.

‘Yes—something like a “Couples’ Night Package.”’

Just imagining her new life made her feel a bit better.

Clutching the blanket tightly to her chest, Marzella swallowed the white powder in one gulp.

“…Did you hear me?”

The Marchioness narrowed her eyes.

“Ah—sorry, what did you say?”

“The fabric! Between these two, which do you think looks better?”

On the table were two sheets of silk—one orange, one golden.

After talking endlessly about ordering a new dress, the Marchioness was finally having it made.

Since Marzella’s imprisonment, outsiders had been temporarily banned from entering the castle.

Because of that, the tailor Ramondria had arrived late, bringing nearly every kind of summer fabric imaginable to satisfy her difficult client.

The Marchioness had been choosing for nearly half an hour.

‘Only two left. Hopefully she picks one soon…’

“Neither,” I said.

“What?”

Both Ramondria and her assistants froze.

“You—no, Your Grace!”

“Mother, your skin is pale,” I said calmly.

Honestly, “pale” was an understatement.

Her skin was so thin that the blue veins around her temples were visible, giving her an overall cold impression.

The Marchioness touched her cheek nervously.
“Well, yes, but why?”

I picked out two other fabrics—a lavender one and a slightly deeper blue—and held them near her face.

“These bring out your color much better.”

“But orange is in fashion in the capital right now…”

The Marchioness looked doubtful, but Ramondria quickly nodded.

“Her Grace is right. These shades suit you far better, my lady.”

“Really? But still…”

Before she could hesitate again, I spoke firmly.
“Ramondria, use the lavender fabric.”

“I haven’t decided yet!”

“That one’s the best.”

The Marchioness pouted at my confident tone but then her eyes lit up playfully.

“Then what if we use the blue one too?”

“No. You agreed on one dress only.”

“You’re so stingy…” she muttered, pointing lazily. “Fine, I’ll take this one.”

Ramondria sighed in relief and ordered her staff to clear away the rest.

“Then, let me show you the lace for the sleeves next.”

‘How long is this going to take?’ I sighed internally.

To distract myself, I petted Raphael’s soft hair as he sat at a nearby table reading a book.

‘At least one dress in exchange for that letter was a decent deal.’

The Marchioness’s letter had achieved an unexpected result—Director Samuel of the Cariso Troupe had accepted my performance request.

So, on their way to Rondoris for their regular season, the Cariso Troupe would stop in Blenheim for one special performance.

It would be the first opera in Blenheim in three years.

—“Why is that? Do Blenheim’s people dislike opera?”

—“Not exactly,” Alchent had explained, “but most artists see Rondoris as the cultural capital. Successful troupes prefer to perform there.”

—“And Blenheim’s small noble society makes it hard for troupes to get proper sponsorship.”

Meaning that even if they performed here, they wouldn’t get the same donations or gifts they’d receive in the capital.

If I wanted to make this a regular thing, I’d need to host them myself, reward the actors, and build relationships.

Just thinking about it sounded like a poor return on investment.

Strictly speaking, the 150,000 danir I invested in Alchent’s company wasn’t my own money.

It was the value of the necklace Loic had returned to me.

He’d looked a bit hurt at the time, so I accepted it quietly—but I’d never planned to just keep it.

‘I’ll return every danir, with interest.’

And if there was profit left afterward—

‘That part’s mine, of course.’

I also wanted my investment to help Blenheim prosper.

It was a small ambition, but a sincere one.

‘Still, what if I can’t even get my money back?’

I needed to start thinking about life after the marriage contract ended.

I had to build some savings—just in case.

The Cecile’s Recipes booklet had begun selling in Rondoris too, but the profits were still tiny.

‘Even after reincarnation, I can’t seem to escape money problems.’

Meanwhile, Ramondria continued presenting sleeve designs—more than ten of them—one by one to the Marchioness.

‘Life really is exhausting.’

“If we make the cuffs slightly shorter and add shirring, it’ll give the sleeves a fuller look,” Ramondria explained.

‘All of them look good.’

The ribboned one was cute; the pleated one was elegant; the embroidered one looked luxurious.

Just changing the sleeves could completely transform the dress’s look.

‘Wait… there’s no concept of detachable sleeves or collars here, is there?’

‘What if I made that a business idea?’

For noblewomen, wearing different dresses every day was expected.

The more showy ones—like Ladriel—would never wear the same outfit twice.

But average nobles often reused lighter evening dresses or indoor gowns.

‘They go to great lengths to make sure no one sees them in the same dress twice.’

If sleeves could be changed, the same dress could look entirely different each time.

‘And in Blenheim, many wealthy commoners could afford fine dresses too.’

Of course, there were obstacles.

Some nobles might find the idea of “changing sleeves” too stingy or unfashionable.

‘In most romance novels, the heroine just wears something unique to a ball and that solves everything.’

People would whisper—‘What an extraordinary gown!’—and then everyone would want one.

‘But here, I don’t even hold balls.’

Since the lakeside tea party, I hadn’t hosted a single social gathering.

Mainly because I found them exhausting.

‘I’d rather stay here, work quietly, watch Blenheim change… and occasionally kiss Loic—well, something like that.’

‘So maybe detachable sleeves won’t work after all.’

I was still thinking that when the door suddenly opened after a knock.

“Sir Johas?”

It was Johas, a senior knight of the First Order.

When he had first arrived in Blenheim, he’d been a bit arrogant, but now he was one of the most respectful knights toward me.

Yet today, his face was grim.

“Your Grace, I have an urgent report. Please dismiss everyone present.”

I turned to the Marchioness.

“Mother, could you please take Raphael and step out for a while?”

‘What? This is my room, where am I supposed to go?’

The Marchioness shot me a glare but, seeing everyone else watching, reluctantly nodded.

Soon, Ramondria, her staff, and the maids all left the room.

“What happened?” I asked.

Johas’s voice was quiet but heavy.

“The head maid is dead.”