Swoosh. Deborah opened her eyes at the sound of the curtains being drawn.

As Deborah hesitated on the boundary between dream and reality, Shelley gently asked,

“Are you awake?”

“Yes. Good morning, Shelley.”

As Deborah sat up and answered in a sleepy voice, Shelley replied with smiling eyes,

“This morning’s sunlight is especially brilliant.”

Listening to Shelley’s bird-like sweet voice, Deborah stared blankly into space. Why wouldn’t she wake up properly?

‘At the Heather house, and at Madam Saint’s place, I used to get up at the crack of dawn every day.’

Yet even waking up at this leisurely hour, she couldn’t easily shake off her sleepiness. It seemed she hadn’t slept well.

‘Ah, come to think of it, what was that dream I just had?’

Deborah tried to recall the dream she had just had. Without much difficulty, she remembered the back of a boy.

‘Ah. That’s right. I dreamed about when I first met that child.’

It’s not common to dream about past events, but this was already the second time. Deborah couldn’t understand why she kept having these dreams. Still, it wasn’t unpleasant.

‘I miss it.’

Though it was a past she longed for, if someone offered to let Deborah meet the boy from the past, she would probably refuse. What’s the point of meeting in that struggling state from back then? He must be doing much better now.

“Yes. Surely that’s the case…”

As Deborah muttered without realizing it, Shelley turned her head and asked,

“Pardon?”

“Ah.”

Finally wide awake, Deborah hurriedly shook her head and said,

“I’m sorry. I was sleep-talking without realizing it.”

“Oh my, so even you sleep-talk, Deborah.”

“Of course. Sometimes it gets really bad.”

Answering like that, Deborah pondered again on the form of address ‘Deborah.’

An honorific attached to a first name, not a surname. It wasn’t common in Grasian, but it felt natural here. Was Sedric’s influence that great?

‘Or is it because Mr. Baker sets all the rules in this household?’

Either way, the fact that this mansion was very different from ordinary mansions remained unchanged. And Deborah didn’t dislike that aspect.

“Ah, that’s right. The master was looking for you, Deborah.”

Shelley said with a gentle smile, backlit by the sunlight. Following her smile, Deborah also raised the corners of her mouth and nodded.

Deborah thought she would feel more alert after washing up and changing clothes, but strangely, she still felt dazed.

The dream from last night just wouldn’t leave her mind. If this continued, her whole consciousness would be consumed by the murky emotions slowly rising from deep within her heart.

‘That won’t do.’

Standing in front of Zen’s office, Deborah forced a smile and knocked on the door.

“It’s Deborah.”

“Come in.”

As Deborah grabbed the doorknob and turned it, a warm air gushed out. The smell of burning firewood and the scent emanating from the mountains of documents were unavoidable, but the cigar or tobacco smell she had noticed when first visiting this office was gone.

‘Did he quit? It couldn’t have been easy.’

Deborah smiled, careful not to reveal her thoughts, and said,

“I heard you called for me.”

Zen, who had been staring intently at Deborah’s face, cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“How has Dia Blaise been doing lately?”

‘Lately, huh.’

Even though they lived in the same mansion, Zen didn’t know how Dia was doing. It was natural.

Zen was so busy that he was often away from the mansion, and he never once looked for Dia, as if he had forgotten about her. He only occasionally asked Deborah like this.

‘Mr. Baker is extremely indifferent to the young lady.’

Thinking about whether Zen had ‘originally’ been indifferent to Dia… He had been. But when comparing then and now, it didn’t seem quite the same.

At least now, Zen asked Deborah about Dia’s well-being, and he didn’t seem to utter the cruel words he used to blurt out frequently.

‘He even made a promise with me. To treat her kindly. So…’

As Deborah was staring blankly into space like that, Zen furrowed his brow and asked,

“Why are you like that?”

“Pardon?”

Startled back to her senses, Deborah soon grasped the situation from Zen’s serious gaze fixed on her.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.”

What a rude behavior this was. Deborah’s face hardened as she bowed deeply and apologized.

“Are you not feeling well?”

“Pardon?”

Deborah’s head shot up at the unexpected question. Zen was examining Deborah’s complexion with a seemingly serious face. Realizing her mistake, Deborah hurriedly lowered her head, but Zen firmly said,

“Raise your head.”

As Deborah raised her head with an embarrassed smile, Zen tilted his head slightly and said,

“Your face is red.”

“Ah, that’s because I just lowered my head. I’m not particularly unwell or anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

If she really had a fever, Deborah would have rested without hesitation. She couldn’t risk spreading it to Dia or others.

“…”

As if finding it hard to believe Deborah’s words, Zen examined her complexion with sharp eyes for a while.

‘This is uncomfortable.’

Deborah resented herself for getting lost in thought. But no sooner had she started blaming herself than another thought occurred to her. Zen’s eyes, staring at her so intently, made it happen.

‘Mr. Baker has golden eyes too.’

The majority of Grasians have brown eyes. Blue eyes, green eyes… they all exist but are rare. Golden eyes were also one of the rarest eye colors. Perhaps as rare as Deborah’s black eyes.

‘Eyes that look dangerous like a beast, yet also fragile like a child’s – beautiful eyes.’

The boy’s eyes were like that too. Though young, they had strength.

‘Is it a characteristic of golden eyes?’

Deborah couldn’t find the answer to that curiosity. After all, among all the people Deborah had seen so far, only two had golden eyes.

“…It seems you’re not in good condition after all.”

Zen muttered a warm sentence in his characteristically low and cool voice. Startled as if splashed with cold water, Deborah hurriedly offered an explanation that wasn’t really an explanation.

“I’m sorry. My physical condition is really fine, but I think I’m like this because I didn’t sleep well.”

“You didn’t sleep well? Why? Was the bed uncomfortable?”

“No. It’s just because of a dream.”

Seeing Deborah smile cautiously with the ends of her eyebrows drooping, Zen swallowed a sigh and said,

“I suppose you had a nightmare.”

“No. It was a good dream.”

Deborah answered without hesitation. Although Deborah was smiling awkwardly at Zen, her gaze was utterly upright.

Zen muttered a different sentence to prevent the pathetic thought ‘Did you dream about that fellow?’ from coming out into this world.

“…If it was a good dream, why couldn’t you sleep properly.”

To this mumbling that could be considered talking to himself, Deborah smiled slightly and belatedly answered the question Zen had asked at first.

“The young lady is currently learning basic etiquette along with simple cultural knowledge. It seems she’s struggling in many ways as it’s all unfamiliar, but…”

Zen quietly listened to Deborah’s predictable answer. In fact, how Dia was doing wasn’t that important to Zen. The person speaking in front of him now was important.

In the end, everything is memorization. Even the method of greeting someone you’ve just met had to be memorized. Such was the world with predetermined correct answers.

“You shouldn’t bow too deeply. Inhale, count to 2. You should slowly raise your head after counting exactly 2 seconds.”

Irene said as she held Dia’s waist and stomach, slowly lifting her. Dia’s face turned red, embarrassed by her repeated simple movements until now.

“Would you like to try it on your own now?”

“Yes.”

Dia slowly bowed her waist and listened. Irene furrowed her brow and tilted her head.

It was an extremely simple movement, and Dia wasn’t actually greeting that incorrectly. Nevertheless, why did Dia’s greeting seem clumsy?

“Mrs. Brown?”

Deborah, who had been quietly observing everything from behind, gently whispered to Irene.

“It seems she’s a bit tired from repeating the same movement.”

“Ah, I see.”

Irene nodded.

‘She certainly seems to have lost confidence compared to earlier.’

It seemed good to learn something else, both to refresh the atmosphere and for a change.

‘Something simple… What would be good?’

As Irene was pondering, Deborah pointed to the grand piano sitting in the corner of the room like a splendid ornament and said,

“Mrs. Brown. If it’s alright with you, may I request one piece?”

Light returned to Irene’s face. Piano performance appreciation. That too was an essential cultural education, and a relatively simple one at that.

“Certainly.”

Irene smiled and explained about gatherings that often occur among noble ladies.

“Noble ladies host not only tea parties, but also poetry recitals and small concerts. Currently, most young ladies learn the piano as a necessity, but…”

While Irene was explaining, Deborah brought a chair and offered Dia a seat. Though Dia felt sorry to sit alone, it seemed more impolite not to sit, so she expressed her thanks quietly and took a seat.

“However, not all young ladies play the piano at an advanced level. So piano recitals aren’t that frequent, but they’re gatherings that don’t disappear. Currently, Countess Hertz and Countess Dawson regularly host piano recitals.”

Deborah nodded slowly with a smile from behind Dia. Irene looked at Deborah once, then at Dia who was listening intently with tension, and said,

“Besides the two elderly countesses, there are also young ladies among the younger generation who hold regular recitals. The most famous among them would be the young lady of Duke Buin’s family.”