“Are you all right?”

As Deborah urgently asked and tried to come down the stairs, Zen said,

“Don’t come.”

Zen’s firm voice, worried that Deborah might fall too, tied Deborah’s feet. Thus, Zen prevented Deborah from running down, but couldn’t stop her worry for Dia.

“Lady Blaise is fine…”

It was then that Zen, letting out a small sigh, was about to answer Deborah on behalf of Dia. Dia’s body, still in his arms, trembled slightly.

No, in fact, Dia had been trembling from the start. Zen had just noticed it late, distracted by Deborah.

Zen’s eyebrows twitched as Dia’s body sank deeper into his arms.

“I’m, I’m sorry. My legs gave out…”

Dia didn’t want to be like this either. But she just couldn’t gather strength in her legs. It was natural after almost rolling down the stairs, but Dia felt pathetic about her condition.

Zen, who had furrowed his brows, observed Deborah’s expression. She was still anxiously looking at Dia in his arms, not at Zen.

‘I was told to be kind.’

Zen wasn’t sure if what he was thinking of doing now was truly a kind act. But it seemed better than staying like this.

Swallowing a sigh, Zen said,

“Please forgive my rudeness, Lady Blaise.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Zen lifted Dia into his arms.

“Eek!”

Surprised, Dia let out a small scream. To Dia, who was still pale and trembling, Zen said,

“This seems faster, after all.”

With that, Zen walked up the stairs. Although Dia was on the thin side, she was still a grown adult, but Zen’s face looked as unbothered as if he were walking alone.

But Dia wasn’t. Her face, which had been pale until just now, was now flushed and about to burst.

‘Oh my!’

Mr. Baker carrying me! Dia had never been carried by anyone since she grew up. Her heart was pounding so hard from nervousness that it made her dizzy.

Even until the moment Zen laid Dia down on the bed, the heat hadn’t left Dia’s face.

“My lady, are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Deborah, kneeling in front of the bed, asked while examining Dia’s complexion.

“I’m, I’m fine. Really.”

Dia answered with difficulty in a trembling voice, swallowed hard, and continued.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. It was just my careless mistake.”

“No. It’s not. I’m the one who should apologize for not catching you in time.”

Deborah said, drooping the ends of her eyebrows.

Dia was flustered. Deborah had nothing to apologize for. Even someone with great athletic ability wouldn’t have been able to catch Dia at that moment.

Just as Dia was about to tell Deborah not to say such things, Zen spoke first.

“Why are you apologizing? This was an accident.”

Dia looked up at Zen. Zen was staring at Deborah, not Dia, with a serious expression.

Deborah’s lips moved as if she had something to say, but she soon closed her mouth tightly. Then, clearing away her worried expression, she slowly opened her lips.

“I should call for a doctor.”

“No! I’m not hurt!”

Dia said urgently. Deborah, still not relieved of her worry, spoke kindly to Dia.

“If you feel any pain later…”

Deborah shook her head and spoke again.

“If you feel even the slightest discomfort, please be sure to tell me.”

“Yes. I will.”

Deborah smiled faintly at Dia’s answer. But worry still lingered around her eyes.

At that moment, Dia felt her heart flutter. It was a different emotion from when she had slipped on the stairs and when she had been held in Zen’s arms.

It felt like plunging into warm water, or being enveloped in a fluffy blanket.

‘A feeling of comfort and reassurance…’

If it had been her mother, she would have been angry at Dia. She would have harshly scolded her for foolishly causing a commotion, calling her pathetic.

‘It’s true that I made a mistake.’

But why was Deborah speaking to her so warmly? Wasn’t she frustrated with her?

“I should prepare some warm tea.”

Deborah said as she stood up. Zen, who had been watching the whole scene with displeasure, gestured towards the door with his chin and said,

“Order that to a maid and come with me for a moment.”

Deborah’s large eyes blinked slowly. Then, smiling gently at Dia, she said,

“Then I’ll ask for the tea to be prepared, and I’ll be back later. Rest well.”

“Yes.”

Dia answered, smiling back at her.

After Deborah and Zen left, Dia clutched the soft blanket tightly and focused on the sound of her own heartbeat. It was beating at a similar pace as usual.

As she did so, she felt a bit drowsy. It seemed to be because the tension had eased. Dia shook her head to keep from closing her eyes. She wanted to drink the tea Deborah had asked to be prepared. She wasn’t thirsty, but it was because Deborah had prepared it.

Deborah naturally thought that Zen would take her to his office and severely reprimand her for not properly assisting her master.

However, contrary to Deborah’s expectations, the place Zen headed was the reception room.

The reception room had been newly decorated with a large, intricate tree model that could be mistaken for a real spruce, adorned with gold and red ornaments, and all the furniture had been replaced with new pieces.

Although the reception room was pretty enough to catch one’s eye, Deborah couldn’t look around. Given the situation.

But as soon as they sat down, Zen’s words were again unexpected.

“Why did you dangerously stretch out your arm?”

What kind of question was this out of the blue.

“Pardon?”

Deborah asked back. Then, as if he had anticipated the question, Zen let out a rough sigh, brushed his hair back, and said,

“Did you think you could save Lady Blaise? If so, that’s a misconception.”

Each syllable was laden with emotion.

“Even if you had caught her, you would have only put yourself in danger as well.”

Zen frowned at Deborah, but Deborah wasn’t scared at all. Rather, she was a bit perplexed.

‘Then what should I have done?’

Deborah’s reaching out to Dia wasn’t an action born from calculation. Deborah was certain that anyone in that situation would have acted like her.

Moreover, wasn’t Deborah the maid attending to Dia? It’s the duty of servants to protect their master’s safety, even if it means throwing their own body.

Deborah’s expression was calm. But Zen noticed Deborah’s confusion.

‘She must be thinking, what should I have done then?’

Zen felt frustrated. It would have been better if Deborah had asked him what she should have done, but there was no way Deborah would do that.

‘Haa…’

If Zen were given the opportunity to speak his mind freely, he would say without hesitation.

That only she was important to him. That as long as she was safe, everything was fine. That he didn’t care about anyone else.

These words would sound terribly selfish to Deborah, but that was Zen’s true feelings. To hell with the maid’s position or whatever.

‘I didn’t like seeing her kneeling down earlier either.’

But Zen couldn’t express these inner thoughts. Nor could he say meaningless things he didn’t mean.

“Anyway, since Lady Blaise wasn’t hurt and you’re safe too, don’t feel any unnecessary guilt.”

At his resolute voice, Deborah’s eyes, which had been staring into space, turned to Zen.

“It’s absolutely not your fault.”

Zen said, looking at Deborah with intense eyes. Of course, Deborah knew this too. She hadn’t pushed Dia, nor had she startled her. Nevertheless, Deborah felt guilty.

‘But I can’t keep being trapped in guilt either.’

Both Zen and Dia would be uncomfortable. And being depressed and trapped in guilt would only lower work efficiency. Having sorted out her feelings, Deborah answered with a gentle smile.

“Thank you for your consolation.”

“It’s not consolation, it’s stating a fact.”

Zen said, furrowing his brow even more. In contrast, Deborah maintained a serene smile.

It was then. A maid whom she had seen briefly before brought a tea set on a rolling cart and neatly arranged it on the table.

Deborah found this situation strange. She had clearly asked Shelley to bring herbal tea to Dia. Had there been a misunderstanding when Shelley relayed the message to this maid?

“Excuse me…”

As Deborah was about to ask the maid, Zen said,

“I ordered it to be brought.”

Deborah’s eyes widened. Come to think of it, before entering the reception room earlier, Zen had called a footman and said something. She had thought he was asking for something personal, but it seemed he had requested tea.

When the maid tried to pour tea into Zen’s cup, Zen shook his head. The maid looked a bit surprised, but soon composed her expression and poured tea into Deborah’s cup first.

“Drink.”

After that, as the maid poured tea into his own cup, Zen said. Deborah, holding the teacup, quietly examined the color and smelled the aroma.

Displeased that she was merely appreciating it when he had given it to her to drink, Zen raised one eyebrow.

“This is cold remedy tea, isn’t it?”

Deborah said, still not taking her eyes off the teacup. As Deborah said, the tea Zen had prepared was not ordinary tea, but tea for cold patients.

Of course, tea is just tea, so there’s no problem if a non-patient drinks it, but no one would enjoy this bitter and intense taste unless they were sick.

‘Why this kind of tea?’

Worried that Zen might have caught a cold, Deborah looked at Zen. As if he wasn’t the same person who had glared at her earlier, Zen averted his gaze and said,

“Before that commotion earlier, didn’t you say something about a cold?”

‘I said something about a cold?’

Deborah blinked slowly.