Eventually, the Female Lead Ran Away (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 8

The maid carefully parted her lips.

“But, milady—Master clearly instructed us to treat the ‘young lady’ with the utmost care.”

‘Zen said that?’

Deborah found it hard to believe. Not only was the term “young lady” unusual, but “utmost care” was hardly something that suited Zen.

Yet it was also Zen who had indulgently let Deborah feast on those precious desserts yesterday. Whether that aligned with “utmost care” or not, she wasn’t sure.

‘What on earth is he thinking, doing all this…?’

Deborah swallowed a sigh inwardly and spoke.

“But I’m neither a noble nor someone who’ll be staying long. So really, there’s no need to go to such lengths for me.”

She blended truth with her own wishes as she spoke.

“Oh… I see.”

The maid, who had been slowly blinking her large eyes, soon wore a faint smile.

“But the fact remains that Master ordered us to treat you, the young lady, very well.”

Deborah had nothing to say in reply. Truthfully, this maid had no right to question whether her master might have made a mistake. By nature, a maid simply followed orders—she was not meant to judge or reinterpret them at will.

‘No matter how wrong this feels, I can’t just speak out carelessly.’

Remembering an incident from the past, Deborah’s mouth turned bitter for no reason.

Noticing Deborah’s darkening expression, the maid playfully added,

“Young lady, why not just enjoy this good fortune? If I were you, I’d simply savor it joyfully without worrying about tomorrow.”

Realizing the maid had deliberately spoken in jest to put her at ease, Deborah gave a gentle smile.

“Yes. I’ll do just that.”

Relieved by Deborah’s answer, the maid’s eyes crinkled with warmth. Deborah hoped this awkward morning would pass quietly. But as soon as she saw the breakfast tray the maid brought in, she knew peace was unlikely.

“This… this is…”

“The head chef truly showed off his skills! Of course, Master’s orders to treat you well carry weight, but you’re also the Baker family’s first official guest, after all.”

Pleasing guests in the master’s stead was both the head chef’s pride and joy. Especially since this guest had defended his desserts to that notoriously difficult master.

“He’s been sharpening his knives since last evening! It’s bound to be incredibly delicious.”

“Haha. I’m sure it will be.”

Inwardly swallowing tears, Deborah brought the food to her mouth. It was delicious—truly exquisite. She had never imagined such food existed. But there was simply too much of it.

‘Am I really going to burst?’

Unaware she had been watching Deborah shuttle food into her mouth, the maid snapped out of her trance and said,

“Then please enjoy your meal at your ease, and call me whenever you need anything.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

As the maid left Deborah’s room and walked down the corridor, she thought,

Could that young lady truly be a commoner? She didn’t seem like one at all. Her every movement was exceedingly graceful.

‘Had she not said she was a commoner, I’d have assumed she was the lady of the manor.’

They said the future mistress of the estate would surely be the daughter of House Blaise. Thus, this commoner woman couldn’t possibly be their future mistress.

But neither could she be just an ordinary guest, as Deborah claimed. After all, that exacting master had specifically ordered her to be treated with care—and Deborah herself carried herself in no ordinary way.

‘It seems she’s not someone who’ll only stay briefly at the Baker estate.’

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Zen had told Deborah she could go anywhere, as long as she didn’t climb over the walls. Yet Deborah had no intention of leaving her room before Zen returned.

‘Why would a guest wander about when the master isn’t even home? There’s no need for that.’

She had been certain of this—yet now Deborah found herself in the garden, persuaded by the maid who had seen her pacing her room in circles, too full to sit still.

[If you’re feeling well enough, why not take a stroll in the garden? While the Baker estate’s garden isn’t the current vogue of Gem-feng style, it’s exceptionally beautiful—rivalling even those of other noble houses.]

Unable to refuse the maid’s eager suggestion, Deborah followed her outside.

‘I was too distracted yesterday to properly see the garden, but it really is beautiful. Worthy of pride.’

Though winter was near and the trees lining the streets had long shed their leaves, turning from red to dry brown, the garden remained splendid and vibrant—as if oblivious to the season itself.

‘So money can even defy the seasons.’

The Baker estate was a place drenched in wealth. Such a magnificent estate—

Under other circumstances, she’d have been awestruck. But to Deborah, it still felt like a prison. She remembered clearly what Dia had endured here.

‘Anyway, it’s cold.’

Wrapped in a shawl, Deborah was comfortable enough, but the maid trailing faithfully behind her surely wasn’t. Kindly, Deborah said,

“I’ll look around by myself. You can go back inside if you’d like.”

“Oh, no! Yesterday Master strictly ordered me never to leave your side, young lady.”

At that moment, Zen’s words from yesterday echoed vividly in Deborah’s mind.

[You must always be accompanied by a servant when outside your room. No exceptions, under any circumstances.]

So it hadn’t been an idle remark after all.

‘Why is he going to such lengths for me?’

Frustrated and flustered, Deborah felt her insides twist even tighter.

‘I can’t just turn back now—this maid would only worry again. I’ll have to stroll a bit longer before heading in.’

Just as she made up her mind, Deborah found herself gazing at some brilliantly blooming flower whose name she didn’t know.

“Hehe. Meeting here feels new.”

A familiar voice reached Deborah’s ears. She quickly turned toward the sound and saw Lady Saint standing with the sun at her back, beaming warmly at her. Deborah’s eyes widened.

“Madam!”

Clutching her skirt, Deborah ran toward her. Lady Saint welcomed her joyfully—it had been days since they last met—but her heart wasn’t entirely at ease.

She’d expected Deborah to reproach her: “You’re a marchioness—why did you deceive me?”

‘Hmm… no. This girl knows her manners. She’ll probably just quietly distance herself.’

To Lady Saint, bracing for that bitter outcome, Deborah instead said,

“How did you manage to come all the way here in your poor health? And on such a cold day?”

Before even finishing her sentence, Deborah draped her own large shawl over Lady Saint’s shoulders. Lady Saint was genuinely startled—and laughed heartily for the first time in ages.

‘Worrying about me in this situation? Scolding me like this again!’

Without a trace of formality, Lady Saint threw her head back and laughed freely. Seeing this, Deborah relaxed.

‘She doesn’t seem unwell at all.’

Deborah hated seeing anyone fall ill. Frail people always slipped away too easily. Of course, she knew even the healthiest could die suddenly—she’d lived through that herself.

[Debbie. I’ll make you the happiest person around here.]

Lost in memories of a life swallowed by wild waves, Deborah didn’t notice someone watching her from the far end of the garden.

Had gazes carried physical weight, she surely would have felt pain.

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After taking a sip of warm tea, Lady Saint spoke.

“You must have been quite shocked to learn I’m a marchioness, right?”

Of course she had been. If not for Zen’s whirlwind of inexplicable behavior, she’d still be agonizing over how to address Lady Saint properly.

“It would be a lie to say otherwise.”

“My dear, the reason I did that was…”

Seeing Lady Saint—so uncharacteristically hesitant—Deborah offered a faint smile.

“It’s alright. To me, you’ll always be Lady Saint. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes!”

Lady Saint beamed and answered quickly.

“I’m so relieved! I was terribly worried you might hate me.”

“Why would someone like me cause you such worry?”

“My goodness—‘someone like me’? You’re very important to me.”

Deborah and Lady Saint shared a special bond.

The day they first met, Lady Saint had been in particularly poor health.

Riding in a carriage had worsened it—motion sickness layered onto her condition—and nausea surged. Yet the street was packed with laborers openly gawking at her fine attire.

A noblewoman couldn’t possibly vomit here—become a spectacle for strangers.

Gritting her teeth, Lady Saint broke into a cold sweat and barely held back the urge to retch.

All her strength went into suppressing it, leaving her utterly unable to walk. Her maid stood helplessly nearby, stomping her feet in panic.

That was when Deborah approached.

“Are you unwell?”

Lady Saint remembered it clearly even now: that gentle voice, the warm hands that enveloped her suddenly chilled body,

and those sharp, discerning eyes carefully assessing her condition—so striking that Deborah’s shabby clothes had faded entirely from view.

“There—once I count one, two, three, you lift her shoulders right away.”

After sizing up Lady Saint’s state, Deborah instructed the maid.

“What?”

“Don’t grab her waist—hold her shoulders firmly.”

After firmly repeating the instruction, Deborah grasped Lady Saint’s forearms and began to count.

“One, two, three…!”

Though frail, Lady Saint was an adult—and utterly limp with weakness.

She must have been heavy, yet Deborah managed to get her upright. Meanwhile, the maid still stood frozen, hopping anxiously in place.

“Hurry and support her—quickly!”

Deborah’s voice trembled like her shaking arms. Finally, the maid mustered courage and grabbed her mistress’s arm.

“This way, down the alley!”

Deborah pointed with her chin toward a quiet, deserted side street. The maid followed without hesitation. The moment they reached the alley, Deborah gently lowered Lady Saint to sit and patted her back.

“No one comes here. It’s alright.”

That voice—so firm yet tender. Had Lady Saint kept suppressing her nausea, Deborah surely would have scolded her, just as her late husband once had.