Hermia put down her plate with a look on her face that said she couldn’t eat any more.
Although I wouldn’t say I ate a large amount, it was definitely more than double what I usually eat.
Did my stomach shrink in the meantime? Opportunities like this don’t come often, and I felt terribly wronged.
‘How long has it been since I ate so much that I was out of breath?’
Since I have no memory of it at all, I guess it must be my first time since I was born.
After eating the bread and cream stew before the meal, as well as the chicken and fish, I thought dessert would come out now, but I was wrong.
As if everything she had eaten so far had been appetizers, dark red meat appeared. Hermia opened both her palms in shock.
“I am now… … .”
“Filet mignon fried until crispy on the outside with butter.”
“Filet mignon… … ?”
“It’s even better when you top it with some mashed potatoes. It’s my ambitious work.”
The chef confidently introduced himself, putting down the plate with his own hands.
I would have preferred not to eat it, but when I saw the steak, glossy and fragrant, I couldn’t refuse it.
It’s an ambitious project, so shouldn’t we try it? Hermia picked up her new fork and knife, determined not to disappoint the eager chef.
“Does it suit your taste?”
Walter asked, noticing that she was munching on her food more enthusiastically than when she was eating the other dishes.
“Yes. This is… No, it was so delicious.”
‘If you ask for the leftovers, it will look like there is none. Let’s be satisfied with what we ate.’
Looking down at the meat that was still more than halfway through, regret was dripping down his eyes. However, even if he wanted to eat more, he had really reached his limit.
“It was the best steak I’ve ever had.”
Hermia, her lips tidied with linen, greeted the chef. It was a common comment from guests who were treated to a meal, but she meant it.
As Walter’s gaze continued to linger on Hermia, Mel intervened urgently.
“That’s right. I was really surprised when I first tried it. The chef at my house… no, at the Baekjak House, was good, but I don’t think it’s comparable.”
“Oh, dear. I’m so embarrassed by your compliments! I don’t know where to put myself!”
The chef took off his hat and imitated the way the ladies waved their fans.
Hermia burst into laughter, and a faint smile spread across Walter’s lips as he watched her.
Mel laughed stiffly, knowing that not only the servants but also the other soldiers were all looking at Hermia.
“Haha… … . Not funny… … .”
But her soliloquy was buried in the laughter of the people and no one could hear it.
A little later, a lot of side dishes, not desserts, began to arrive at the banquet hall. Then, oak barrels big enough to fit a person entered the hall in a row.
The ten cylinders that the servants had rolled around were obviously beer. Mel’s expression brightened immediately.
Walter opened his mouth before the full-scale drinking party.
“Drink comfortably today and skip training tomorrow morning.”
“thank you!”
It was a loud response to the welcome command. As Walter stood up to take the two women aside, Mel held out her palm in front of him.
“Just a minute. Miss, let’s have a drink too.”
“What? Why are we here? We have something to talk about separately. Let’s go somewhere quieter… … .”
“balm.”
Walter called her name to dissuade her, but Mel ignored him and continued to provoke Hermia.
“Actually, you avoid drinking because you’re afraid of being found out?”
There was a crack. An inaudible sound, and something snapped inside Hermia.
“Melissa, the drinks will be later… … .”
“Just wait a moment, Your Majesty.”
“yes.”
Hermia burst out laughing as if she couldn’t believe it. When she thought about it carefully, she felt angry.
How funny must she have thought herself to be for Mel to do something like that at the engagement ceremony?
Before we get into any serious talk, I guess I should give Mel, no… Melissa Bahnsen a proper look at it at least once.
‘I’m telling you who you’re fighting.’
* * *
“The shoes are too small! They’re too small to wear! Why? Because that lady’s feet are too small!”
“sorry…….”
The soldier who had been grabbed by Hermia’s collar apologized tearfully.
“I’m going to twist my toes and my hips now. Your boss did that. We’re in big trouble.”
“This is really a big deal… … .”
“What if Irene teases me again! That’s right. She’s a reflex now.”
“Reflection… right?”
“I am Helen.”
“Helen… … ?”
“Don’t you know that? Stop shooting and read a book.”
“sorry…….”
The soldier went around and around and apologized again. Mel, who was watching the scene from a distance, asked with a crumpled expression.
“Walter, how much beer did the lady drink?”
“…three sips.”
Walter answered, looking at the glass that was no different from when he first poured it. And there was a bit of a prickle in his subsequent question.
“You said that knowing how much Hermia can drink?”
“Young lady, you never drink alcohol at home. Even at parties, you only drink soda.”
Mel immediately refuted in a tone of resentment. Her expression showed that it was the only truth.
Now that I think about it, did she ever take a sip of champagne at the engagement ceremony? When I recalled with my extraordinary memory… absolutely not.
Walter soon remembered Count Bahnsen storming into the ducal castle drunk.
‘My son-in-law! Son-in-law, come out!’
No, she and Arnold Bahnsen are different. Even though they are equally drunk, she doesn’t get annoyed at all like she did then.
Compared to the Count, Miss Hermia’s drunkenness is rather cute…
“You are so kind. Will you marry me?”
“… … .”
A fierce wrinkle formed between his previously silent brows. Walter quickly approached Hermia, who was proposing to him while grabbing her by the collar.
“You are drunk.”
“ok?”
Hermia’s head slowly turned at the firm voice. Her face flushed as she slowly blinked her sea-like eyes.
He suddenly thought. It would be nice if people looked at him with such warmth even when he was sober.
A sudden sense of suffocation seemed to fill my chest. It was a feeling that came over me every time I witnessed a businesslike reaction that reminded me of the fact that it was a political marriage.
More precisely, whenever I see an attitude that seems to be intentionally pushing me away, like right now.
As their meetings continued, Hermia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was building a wall, contrary to herself, whose heart was growing larger.
Is it because you don’t like me as a marriage partner? Or is it because of that book?
If the book is the cause, then maybe he cares about Melissa. Would it be okay if he sent her back to the Count’s house by force? Would he feel relieved then?
What if my guess is wrong and I simply don’t like him as a marriage partner?
He couldn’t know. He wasn’t so naive as not to know his feelings for her. He was just inexperienced and ignorant of how to express them.
Walter patiently untied Hermia’s hands, one by one, from the other man’s collar.
“Miss Hermia is engaged to be married to me. That means she must not marry anyone other than me.”
“Engagement… Marriage… … .”
Hermia muttered and lifted her head to the ceiling. She seemed to be thinking about something, then suddenly jumped up with an “Ah!”
“Frederick! That tight-ass!”
Frederick Cotton. The name of the man with whom Hermia had previously had marriage talks.
Walter’s eyebrows furrowed naturally. Was he even bald?
“I have to tell him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can keep meeting your lovers… Just marry me.”
“Miss Hermia.”
Should I tell you again that I am your fiancé and that the man you are going to marry is also me?
It wasn’t enough that she proposed to a so-called woman wearing a wedding ring, but now she’s promiscuous and ex-boyfriend.
Walter closed his eyes to suppress his emotions, then opened them again, and Hermia mumbled softly.
“That way, they won’t have to charge you a lot of compensation later… … .”
“… … .”
“Then you can live well alone. In this damn world.”
What is this woman talking about now? What does alimony mean and what does it mean to live alone?
“Me. Actually, I don’t want to get married or anything. I just want to eat well and live well on my own. Is that not possible? It can’t be done.”
“entire.”
He turned his head and gave an order to his subordinates who were watching him blankly.
“get out.”
The soldiers moved quickly out of the door with sharp eyes like awls. The last remaining low-ranking soldier was dragged away by Henry by the scruff of his neck.
The servants who had been observing the situation had all left like the tide, leaving only Walter, Hermia, and Mel left behind.
Hermia, thirsty, grabbed the lost beer mug in front of her. Walter stopped her hand and gave her a water glass instead.
“I think you should stop eating today. I’ll prepare a guest room, so you can sleep there and come back tomorrow… … .”
“No, you won’t get in trouble with Lady Olivia.”
“I’ll send someone to your home.”
“I don’t know. I’m sick of getting scolded. Who asked you to get married like that? You scum.”
She gulped down the water and let out a long breath she had been holding.
“Ha. The countess who brought in an illegitimate child to gain some reputation, and the adoptive father who sold me out for a pittance, they’re all trash.”
Walter stopped moving and looked at her.
Is that where the aura that made you look mature for your age came from?
Walter also knew Hermia’s name before she took the Bahnsen surname, as information about her had been leaked to him by her confidants around the time the will was made public.
‘Hermia Nocturne.’
Even though it has a romantic name, its past wasn’t so romantic.
When she was about five years old, her biological mother married a man with the last name Nocturne, but died of illness five years later.
The place where he lived was a slum. His adoptive father’s job changed every month. This means that he was a working class person with an irregular income.
He was killed in a robbery early that morning while gambling with the money Arnold Bahnsen gave him when he took his daughter away.
Just by reading a few lines in the report, it was not difficult to guess what kind of environment she grew up in.
Yet she shone. She was dazzling in her own right, not because of her origins or background. And she was a proper person who knew how to apologize politely for her father’s rudeness.
So Walter didn’t believe it even more. A third-rate novel where she appeared as a villain.
“The first person to marry the trash daughter and pay alimony! What the heck? Where did everyone else go?”
Hermia, who had been immersed in sorrow, suddenly shouted cheerfully.
How much compensation do I need to give to make someone happy?
Of course, he had no intention of getting a divorce.