Disguised as a Male Servant in the Duke's House (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 7

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What should I say? Admit that I’m hurt? Ask him to unwrap it?

“Well….”

As Rozelia hesitated and couldn’t answer right away, Klaus’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

His shirt, already clinging from dampness, felt even stickier with sweat. Flustered, her mind went blank, and she could only open and close her mouth like a mute fish.

At that moment, a familiar voice cut through the space between them.

“He got hurt protecting me.”

Both Klaus’s and Rozelia’s gazes snapped toward the source of the voice. There stood Clojet, arms crossed and wearing a haughty expression, looking directly at them.

“He got hurt protecting you? What happened? You’re not injured yourself, are you?”

“Hmm… So you do worry about me?”

A strange scene unfolded. The petite, underdeveloped fifteen-year-old girl with silvery-blue hair stood locked in a standoff against the tall man with deep blue-black hair, easily over 190 centimeters, neither backing down—an odd tension that made those around them uneasy.

“What exactly happened?”

When Clojet refused to answer directly and only glared, Klaus sighed and turned his attention back to Rozelia. But it was Clojet, still wearing that arrogant look, who answered for her.

“I slipped while stepping out of the carriage. Antonio tried to catch me and ended up beneath me. His back got scraped up a bit from the fall.”

Clojet spoke calmly without batting an eye, so convincingly that even Rozelia began doubting whether it had actually happened. Of course, it hadn’t—Clojet had alighted from the carriage with perfect grace and elegance to greet the young noble ladies.

So Clojet was lying to protect her… but why? Could it be… that Clojet had realized she was a girl?

While Rozelia’s mind spun with a hundred confusing thoughts, Klaus seemed satisfied with the explanation and turned toward Antonio with a neutral expression.

“If he was injured protecting Clojet, then I’ll offer my apology in his stead.”

It was baffling how these siblings kept stepping in to apologize for each other.

At Klaus’s blunt apology, Clojet snorted derisively.

“Why would you apologize on my behalf?”

Even though Clojet never once called him “older brother” and always responded with thorny defiance, Klaus, seemingly used to it, simply shot Rozelia an irritable glance.

“Still, I’d prefer you didn’t treat your body so carelessly.”

Taken aback by his unexpected words, both Rozelia and Clojet turned to Klaus in surprise. But their astonishment lasted only a moment before Klaus continued in an indifferent tone.

“Until you’ve repaid your debt, that body isn’t yours to recklessly throw away.”

Though his words could easily be misunderstood, both Rozelia and Clojet, who knew exactly what he meant, felt their expressions grow cold.

What he referred to as “Rozelia’s body” was merely a vessel of utility—valuable only as long as it could repay the debt.

After saying that, Klaus left a message for Jeffrey that he’d take his meal in his office and walked out of the dining hall. Only after he disappeared did Rozelia finally relax, letting out a long sigh and dropping her stiff shoulders.

Clojet, whose meal wasn’t yet finished, began eating again as if nothing had happened. Rozelia glanced at her and cautiously asked,

“My lady… why… did you help me?”

At Rozelia’s question, Clojet gestured for the servants in the dining hall to leave. Her action only made Rozelia feel more uneasy.

Did Clojet truly know her secret?

But the reply that came next wasn’t quite what Rozelia expected.

“Because Antonio looked troubled.”

“Huh?”

“I already told you. I’d protect you from that cold-hearted man.”

For a moment, Rozelia was so dumbfounded she blurted out without thinking,

“Even though you don’t even know why I’m wearing bandages?”

“Does it matter? Antonio didn’t want Klaus seeing what’s underneath, right?”

Once again struck by Clojet’s piercing insight, Rozelia stiffened.

Clojet calmly wiped her lips with a napkin, still wearing that haughty expression.

“Well… it must be some unsightly scar or something. Either way, the situation just now was rather awkward, wasn’t it?”

The young Clojet, who hadn’t even shed her childish air, spoke with the calm detachment of a middle-aged woman who’d seen it all—eliciting a bitter, wry smile from Rozelia.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Whatever. But in return, you have to accompany me to the viscountess’s tea party three days from now.”

“Of course.”

Satisfied with Rozelia’s answer, Clojet grinned broadly, and Rozelia responded with a gentle smile of her own.

[This is the timeline separator]

Between the capital Vandeloup of the Lugbeljet Empire and the Duchy of Valtezar lay a small village called Alglisha.

This village served as both a trade route and buffer zone connecting the capital and the ducal territory—settled by poor farmers who couldn’t afford to live in the capital nor claim residence in the duchy, along with merchants traveling between the two.

Stepping down from the 100-grang carriage, Rozelia scanned the village’s landscape and curled her lips into a faint smile.

Trending

This was the place. The birthplace of the Crown Princess’s first cherished masterpiece. According to the original plot, in about a month, the female lead would pass through this village disguised as a commoner, see the artist’s work, and fall in love with it enough to purchase it.

The sum the Crown Princess paid for the painting—500 verangs—was enough for an ordinary commoner to live idly for ten years.

That very painting was Rozelia’s first target.

The problem was, the only information she could glean from the original novel was the village’s name and the painter’s name.

Still, it was fortunate that this was a small village, not the capital.

Having sorted her thoughts, Rozelia approached a merchant who was tidying up his fruit stall, her expression resolute.

Seeing a well-dressed, handsome young man approaching, the merchant stood up with a puzzled look. His attire and appearance clearly didn’t belong in such a humble village, so his expression carried a hint of wariness.

“Good day. The weather’s truly lovely, isn’t it?”

“Who might you be?”

“Oh… I was wondering—do you happen to know a man named Abello Huntum in this village?”

“Abello? It’s been about two weeks since I last saw that fellow….”

Rozelia, who had asked the question half-expecting nothing, was thrilled by the unexpected reply.

“You know Abello?”

“Well, yes. This village is so small that everyone knows each other’s faces. What business do you have with him?”

Meeting the merchant’s suspicious gaze, Rozelia hesitated briefly.

Telling the truth would raise far too many red flags.

‘I’m a servant sent ahead from the ducal estate because I know Abello’s work will become incredibly valuable later.’

How suspicious would that sound…

Deciding quickly, Rozelia flashed a friendly, disarming smile and continued cheerfully.

“Oh, I’m actually Abello’s relative. I happened to be passing through on my way to the capital and thought I’d stop by to pay my respects.”

The merchant eyed Rozelia’s neat, pretty face and muttered even more suspiciously,

“Does Abello really have such a well-put-together relative…?”

“Ahaha, I suppose it’s understandable you wouldn’t know. We’re… distantly related—about sixth cousins, if you count by lineage. Ha…”

Despite her bright smile, the man stared blankly for a moment, then scratched his head and pointed lazily in the opposite direction, clearly annoyed.

“Go straight that way, then take the third alley. You’ll find a shabby house with a rose painted on the door. That’s his place—good luck finding it.”

“Thank you~!”

Relieved that her goal had been found so easily, Rozelia’s steps felt light. She’d even taken 20 verangs from Klaus, just in case—but perhaps she’d have money left over after all.

Following the merchant’s directions, she soon found the house marked with a painted rose and knocked on the door with a fluttering heart.

Knock knock knock—

But there was no response from inside. Wondering if anyone was home, Rozelia knocked again.

Knock knock knock knock—

Still nothing. Peeking cautiously through the window, she spotted a man sitting blankly at the dining table—it was Abello Huntum. Beside him, a little girl around six years old played with a worn rag doll.

“Hello! Mr. Abello! Could you please open the door for a moment?”

Only when a stranger called his name did the man slowly turn his head toward the door. His eyes were dull, and his face devoid of life.

“Who… is it?”

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Abello’s haggard face.

“I’ve come to buy one of Abello’s paintings.”

Surprise flickered briefly across Abello’s face at Rozelia’s words, but his expression quickly darkened again as he asked suspiciously,

“My paintings…? How did you even hear about them?”

“I happened to see one of your works in the village. It left quite an impression.”

Of course, that was a lie—she hadn’t actually seen any painting.

But she did know Abello had been selling his art in the village just to scrape by.

“Please… won’t you sell me one of your paintings?”

“……”

Before meeting the Crown Princess, Abello had lived in such poverty that even a single meal a day was uncertain. Though he called himself a painter, he was completely unknown and had never earned significant income from his art.

Rozelia had assumed such a man would jump at the chance to sell—but his reaction was far from what she’d expected. Sensing his reluctance, she added nervously,

“I’ll pay 10 verangs.”

“……”

In truth, Rozelia already knew the painting well from the novel’s description: a woman and a little girl sitting in a rose garden.

But pretending to know nothing would seem less suspicious, so she played along.

ads

“If 10 verangs isn’t enough, how about 15?”

“……”

“18 verangs!”

That was her absolute limit. After all, the carriage fare back to the duchy alone cost 100 grangs—equivalent to 1 verang—so she had to keep enough for the return trip.

Watching Rozelia’s anxious expression, Abello, who had been silent for a long while, finally spoke heavily.

“The piece I recently finished isn’t for sale.”

With that, he sharply shut the door in her face. Rozelia stood frozen before the closed door, utterly stunned.

Why wouldn’t he sell the painting? He’d sold it to the female lead without issue…

And it wasn’t as if the female lead had revealed her identity as Crown Princess when buying it—Rozelia clearly remembered she’d been in plain, humble clothes. Could it be… that he’d only sell it for the same 500 verangs the Crown Princess had paid?

But Abello didn’t seem particularly interested in money. Lost in thought, Rozelia paced in front of the door, her eyes suddenly landing on the wilted flowers in the garden bed.

They looked neglected, as if untouched for quite some time…

Her gaze abruptly shifted to the little girl inside by the window—and in that instant, realization struck her like lightning.

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