Chapter 40
Marsha moved closer to the wide-open door, which she had left ajar to let in some fresh air.
Ah, I’m so full.
After Urian left, she resumed her meal.
She had promised herself she’d finish everything, but her promise and her stomach seemed to have very different plans.
Eat slowly. Take your time.
She remembered Claudio sitting across from her, waiting patiently until she was done.
What is he, a parent watching over a picky child?
Still, thanks to him, she had managed to clear her plate.
A faint smile curved her lips.
Strange… I thought I’d feel awkward.
She’d always imagined it would be uncomfortable—having someone sit there and watch her eat.
And she had, in the past, found it almost unbearable.
Marsha, you really do eat slowly, don’t you?
Like a proper young lady.
No—wait, you are a proper young lady.
Compared to you, I must be the nouveau riche’s daughter.
I’m always the first to finish eating.
Whenever Rosanna would say this, chin propped on both hands with a sulky air, Marsha never knew how to respond.
I-I guess I just eat a bit slowly.
Sorry.
You can go ahead.
If I did that, the Count would scold me for leaving the table without manners.
You wouldn’t want me to get lectured like that… would you?
Of course not…!
Marsha would flounder, and Rosana would laugh, saying she was only teasing, that she understood her heart completely.
Ah, the weather outside is gorgeous.
Luca will be here soon—do you think we could go out to greet him?
S-sorry! I’ll eat faster.
Oh, goodness! I didn’t mean to rush you.
Back then, Marsha had believed her.
But now… she knew the truth.
She must have been irritated with me.
Marsha could understand Rosana’s position—having to watch her step around Marsha’s father must have been exhausting.
But still, that didn’t give her the right to toy with Marsha under a smiling mask.
… And that’s why, every time we ate together, I’d end up with indigestion.
She had forced herself to endure the discomfort, afraid Rosana might blame her.
And then she’d spend the whole night sick…
Foolish.
Her gaze dropped to the tips of her shoes.
They were worn—so worn the soles might peel off at any moment.
And it wasn’t just the shoes; her clothes were old and threadbare.
But the shabbiest thing of all…
…might be me.
Whether she was the elegantly dressed young lady of Count Emelide or the woman she was now…
…I’ve always been lacking.
It was at that moment, as she was lost in thought, that a shadow fell over her.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?”
She looked up to see Claudio leaning casually against the wall at an angle.
“…Nothing much.”
“Then why the gloomy face?”
Gloomy?
Flustered, she rubbed her face and darted her eyes away, scrambling for an excuse.
Ah.
Lowering her hand, she said,
“I was just… thinking about Mr Urian.”
“Him?”
Claudio’s brows knit together.
… Is he displeased?
No—that had to be her imagination.
Why would he be?
He probably just didn’t understand what she meant.
Still, the deep furrow between his brows was hard to ignore.
“When I handed him the map earlier…”
She trailed off, recalling Urian’s face.
His expression had been oddly weary, his smile awkward.
“You’ve drawn it in such detail. Thank you. I’ll be back within three days.”
“Three days? But the clothes should already be finished…”
Ah, it’s just… I actually—
He’d looked around nervously, as if bees were buzzing in the air, before speaking again.
“There’s something urgent I forgot to take care of.”
“In that case, I could go pick up the clothes for—”
“No! No, please—leave it to me!”
His expression had been almost desperate, as if failing to handle this trivial errand would cost him his life.
“I just thought… If he’s that busy, maybe it would’ve been better for me to go instead. I was wondering if I should tell him I’m sorry…”
“You care a little too much about him,” Claudio said.
Claudio’s reply came out curt, and Marsha’s brows knitted together.
“I’m not fussing over him. I was going to the market anyway. I just meant there was no need to trouble someone busy.”
“What for? Do you need something?”
“I just thought I’d ask Petro if there are any herbs he needs lately…”
She answered as casually as she could, hoping the conversation might fizzle out there.
“Then I’ll come with you.”
Claudio said it as naturally as if it were already decided.
Marsha shook her head at once.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll go alone.”
“No. It’s dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous about it? I’ve gone to that market countless times—”
“You saw it last time, didn’t you? The crowd was so thick you could barely walk.”
“…”
“And most of them are outsiders. That’s when public safety gets dicey.”
Well… he wasn’t wrong.
But today, of all days, she absolutely could not go with Claudio.
Meeting an information broker while living as an undocumented resident?
That was practically hanging a sign over her head saying she had something big to hide.
A regular illegal immigrant, maybe he’d let it slide. But this… he’d never look past.
She imagined Claudio gazing down at her with cold, suspicious, contempt-filled eyes—and without thinking, she bit the inside of her cheek.
She’d had a similar thought yesterday, and back then, fear had wrapped its hands around her throat at the idea of what might follow.
But now… now the feeling was different.
It hurt.
Marsha felt ridiculous—getting upset over nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
How long have we even been living together?
I’m really pathetic…
Claudio was, after all, just a stranger.
A man who would be leaving soon.
So why—
Forget it.
This feeling will pass, too.
Letting out a short sigh to steady herself, Marsha opened her mouth to refuse him again.
“Marsha!”
The sudden voice made her look up.
Berry was hurrying toward her in quick little steps, waving, her expression carrying a hint of tension.
Why does she look like that?
Berry was usually as bright and bouncy as an excited puppy.
Seeing that worried look on her face made Marsha wonder if something had happened.
And then, in that moment, she caught Berry sneaking a sidelong glance at Claudio.
Ah.
Even someone as outgoing as Berry found this man intimidating.
Wanting Berry to feel at least a little more at ease, Marsha stepped forward to meet her halfway.
Freed from the need to approach Claudio any closer, Berry seemed to relax, a smile breaking across her face.
“Marsha! Have you had lunch yet?”
“Oh.”
Was it that late already?
She had only eaten breakfast, but she nodded—close enough to count as lunch.
“Then… Do you have a bit of time?”
“Why?”
“Well, tomorrow’s my mom’s birthday, and I wanted to buy her a gift… but you know my taste isn’t the best.”
Berry gave a sheepish smile.
Marsha blinked at her.
***
Masha studied the hairpin Berry had picked out, then shook her head.
“The colour would suit your mother, but the finish…”
“Oh! You’re right!”
After a few rounds of showing her choices to Marsha for inspection, Berry finally managed to find a hairpin that was good quality, pretty, and reasonably priced.
“Thanks, Maesha! I found something great because of you.”
“It’s nothing.”
In all honesty, Marsha was the one who was more appreciative of Berry.
If Berry hadn’t shown up, Claudio might very well have kept insisting she wasn’t going to the market alone.
Considering he didn’t even like the idea of me going with Berry, of course, he would have…
Letting out a deep sigh, she began studying the shop’s displays.
Berry glanced at her cautiously.
“What is it? Do you need something too, Marsha?”
“I was thinking… I’d like to buy something for your mother’s birthday as well—”
“What? No way! You’ve already given her a present!”
Berry tapped the heavy bag she was carrying.
Inside was the hand cream Marsha had given her.
“That wasn’t meant as a birthday gift.”
“Doesn’t matter! Do you have any idea how expensive that cream is? That’s a very fine gift!”
Berry’s voice brimmed with confidence—so different from the woman who had been trembling under Claudio’s disapproving gaze only moments ago.
“So now it’s time for your errands.”
She grabbed Marsha’s hand and led her out of the shop.
Once outside, Berry wrapped a thin, wide scarf around Marsha’s face and neck, then pulled the hood of her cape up over her head.
She did the same to herself, similarly covering her face, before taking Marsha’s hand again.
“Berry, it’s fine. I can just go look by myself—”
“Nope! It’ll be faster if we search together. And it’s less scary, too!”
She grinned, bright and fearless, and took the lead.
Marsha felt a pang of guilt.
Berry didn’t know the full story—didn’t even know the half of it.
And yet, despite the inevitable curiosity, she had never once pried, never once pushed, always offering help without question.
If only I could be as kind and strong as you…
With a wry smile, Marsha followed after her.
They had taken barely three steps when—
…What?
Marsha stopped dead, scanning the crowd.
Berry halted too, turning back to ask,
“What’s wrong?”
“I… feel like someone’s watching me.”
Her eyes swept the street, trying to find the source of the sensation.
The road was teeming with people, but no one seemed to be staring at her in particular.
Just my imagination…?
With so many people here, it was easy to mistake the press of the crowd for a watchful gaze.
She turned her head away.
But no—it hadn’t been her imagination.
A short distance away, just before she had looked around, a man had slipped hurriedly into an alleyway.
Hidden in its shadow, he pressed a hand to his chest.
Thought I’d been caught…
