Zen silently watched as Deborah brought the cake to her mouth.

‘So uncomfortably.’

Deborah chewed and swallowed the cake with difficulty. As she did so, she smiled with her eyes at Zen, who had made eye contact with her, but Zen quickly averted his gaze and hooked his finger on the teacup handle.

‘Who’s the one wanting to avoid someone now…’

At that time, Deborah still thought, ‘Surely not?’ Surely he doesn’t intend for me to eat all of this? If I just eat one slice of cake, we can talk again.

But as soon as her plate was empty, Zen placed another dessert on her dessert plate.

“Mr. Baker. It’s alright. I’ve eaten enough.”

“How can one be satisfied with just a slice of cake? Eat more.”

“No, I…”

“…Perhaps you don’t like the taste?”

Zen said, furrowing his brow.

“Pardon?”

As Deborah was about to respond, wondering what he meant,

“…You there!”

Zen called out to the footman waiting outside the reception room. The footman approached elegantly yet urgently at his master’s call, and Zen growled at him, contorting his handsome face.

“Go and bring the chef.”

“Mr. Baker!”

Deborah exclaimed in surprise. Zen, who had turned his head towards the footman, rolled his eyes to look at Deborah.

It was a mesmerizing profile. From his glossy nose bridge and cheeks to his full, long eyelashes, every part of him was exquisite, as if carefully crafted by a master sculptor.

He looked nothing like the man who had just worn such a frightening expression.

“It’s delicious. Really. I’ve never had such delicious cake in my life.”

Zen quietly accepted Deborah’s clumsy excuse and let out a sigh. Then he turned his head back towards Deborah.

The perceptive footman bowed his head and left the reception room. Deborah picked up her fork again to prove her words.

‘What am I doing right now.’

And so Deborah continued to eat until Zen left for his outing. If a footman hadn’t come looking for Zen at someone’s request, she might have had to eat all the desserts there.

“It’s time for you to depart now, sir.”

“Haa…”

Zen sighed deeply and reluctantly rose from his seat, saying,

“I have much to do, so I’ll be going now. I’ll be back around this time tomorrow… no, probably around noon.”

“Then I’ll return to the hotel for now and come visit you tomorrow, or rather, the day after.”

Zen frowned at Deborah’s response.

“What are you talking about? I clearly told you earlier that you can’t return to the hotel. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten what I said?”

Deborah stared at his annoyingly twisted lips with an incredulous expression. Seemingly pleased with her face, Zen raised the corners of his mouth. This made his handsome face even more radiant.

“I’ll have your belongings from the hotel room brought here immediately. If you need anything else, you can ask the servants.”

“Mr. Baker.”

“Ah, let me tell you in advance, don’t even think about going outside the fence until I return. It’s unacceptable.”

Deborah, who had been at a loss for words due to the somewhat harsh terms, took a couple of breaths before asking,

“…Did I mishear something just now?”

“No. You heard correctly. You’re free to move about inside the fence, that is, up to the garden. But outside your room, you must always be accompanied by a servant. There are no exceptions under any circumstances.”

Thanks to Zen’s one-sided outpouring of words, Deborah felt dizzy.

“Um, Mr. Baker.”

Deborah called out to Zen again. Though it was Deborah’s voice that trembled, it was Zen’s eyes that wavered.

Deborah should have found his gaze as unfamiliar as this space, yet why did she feel as though she had seen those eyes before? Was it because she had read Zen’s story?

“Master.”

At that moment, the footman called for Zen again. He was likely urging Zen to hurry. Zen’s gaze towards the footman was filled with displeasure.

“Well then.”

Zen said, looking down at Deborah again.

“I’ll be going now.”

Zen flashed an arrogant smile with that gorgeous face of his and took his leave.

Deborah found Zen annoying. The most annoying thing about him was that even while acting so arbitrarily, he remained beautiful.

‘He’s really something else.’

* * *

In any case, thanks to Zen’s outrageous behavior, Deborah felt like her head and stomach were about to burst. And now he wanted her to eat more?

‘This is torture!’

Deborah said sincerely.

“I’m sorry. I’m really full, you see. If I eat any more, I’m sure I’ll get indigestion.”

“Then I’ll bring you some easily digestible soup. Please try at least a spoonful. It’s alright if you don’t finish it.”

“No. I can’t waste such precious food. So please, would you grant my request? If Mr. Baker says anything, please tell him that I firmly refused. I’ll tell Mr. Baker the same.”

The maid hesitated before saying, “Then please call me anytime if you need anything,” and left the room. Deborah, who had nodded in response instead of answering, lay down on the bed as soon as the maid left.

‘Ah, it’s uncomfortable. Really too uncomfortable.’

This cloud-like bed, this princess-like room, her stomach full of sweet and soft things, and finally, her own predicament of having set foot in this terrible story.

‘What’s going to happen from now on…’

Deborah carefully pondered over the contents of the novel she remembered. There was certainly a dressing maid who appeared. As a insignificant villain who looked down on Dia.

‘Could I be the villain?’

Well. That was also ambiguous. After all, this novel wasn’t one with many villains appearing.

Moreover, she couldn’t remember the name of the dressing maid who was merely a passing villainous supporting character. But if her name had been ‘Deborah’, it should have come to mind.

‘Yes. The name Deborah definitely didn’t appear in this story.’

If someone were to ask if she could bet her life on it, she might not be confident, but Deborah was somewhat certain.

‘If I really became the dressing maid, wouldn’t that change the story?’

Even so, it would only change from an unnamed villain to Deborah, her.

‘But this much probably won’t greatly change the future, right?’

As Deborah remembered, that terrible flow of a man obsessed with revenge ruining the life of a pitiful woman would not have changed.

Deborah, who had been sighing unnecessarily with a heavy heart, suddenly shook her head.

‘No. More than that, do I really have to become the dressing maid?’

Deborah pressed both her palms hard against her cheeks. Her mouth opened like a startled fish.

‘I really don’t want to!’

Deborah thought repeatedly. She didn’t want to play even a tiny role in such a terrible drama.

She just wanted to live an ordinary life.

Like the dream she had when marrying her husband, she wanted to live with a clear conscience even if a bit poor, unable to enjoy great wealth but not suffering unfair treatment, living such a peaceful life and then departing.

“Ah. I’m not asking for great fortune. I just want that much peace, so why on earth.”

Suddenly, a wave of sorrow washed over her. Of course, compared to the misfortune Dia would face in the future, her current misfortune didn’t seem so great.

* * *

Inside the rattling, rolling automobile. Zen’s hands were full of stacks of documents. The papers were densely filled with budgets for building several huge factories and plans to forcibly sell off a company.

If Zen forced the sale of that company, restructuring was inevitable. The families of those who couldn’t survive there might face danger to their livelihoods, but Zen didn’t sympathize. He detested the very emotion of sympathy.

“Thanks to Marchioness Forea, it seems the sale of Zelaman will proceed smoothly.”

Said Todd, sitting across from Zen, with his dark brown hair and bark-colored eyes.

People knew Todd as the CEO of Baem, an automobile company, but in reality, he was nothing more or less than ‘Zen’s man’.

“Yes. She’s quite an impressive person. That’s why she’s always dancing a waltz above my head, isn’t she?”

Zen replied with a sardonic smile.

Marchioness Forea. That eccentric! The truth was, it was thanks to her that the current Zen could exist.

[To think Buin would be living here so miserably.]

The elegant noblewoman who extended her cold hand. If she had been someone who cared for ‘Buin’, Zen would not have taken her hand.

But she wasn’t a person who thought of Buin. Rather, on the contrary, she was someone who wished for Buin’s downfall.

That’s why Zen took her hand. But who would have thought she would have ‘Debbie’ with her? Zen wondered for a moment if this too was part of her plan.

‘No. She didn’t know the fact that I was looking for Debbie.’

So this is a terrible coincidence. Or perhaps it’s God compensating for tormenting Zen all this time.

‘It’s still hot.’

The place where Deborah’s gaze had touched remained flushed and showed no signs of cooling down. If it was like this just from her gaze, what would have happened if her fingers had touched him? He probably would have acted like a foolish child.

‘But I’m no longer who I was then.’

Too much time had passed. Ten years was such a long time that Zen couldn’t immediately recognize her voice.

‘But the reason you didn’t recognize me wasn’t because of time, was it?’

Zen smiled bitterly. Just as if he had chewed on some bitter herb, his mouth turned sour, and then a sweet voice came to mind.

[Well, how is it? Delicious, right? Don’t you feel better?]

The time when Deborah forcefully pushed a cookie into Zen’s mouth and smiled broadly was now a distant past. Nevertheless, Zen found himself thinking,

‘What’s the difference between you then and you now?’

To the point where it was embarrassing that he didn’t immediately recognize her voice, there was hardly any difference between her then and her now. Stubborn but not bigoted, always warm in her demeanor.

‘I feel foolish for imagining last night how you might have changed. To think you’re so consistent.’

Zen chuckled and looked out the window. The gas lamps were turning on one by one, illuminating the dark city. It was a tiresome sight.

‘Why did you disappear back then? You were quite a beloved maid in the Heather household.’

But Deborah suddenly disappeared, and when she did, everyone in the Heather household acted as if Deborah had never existed in the first place.

[There’s no such person, so don’t come looking again.]

The fear, despair, and helplessness Zen felt then were beyond words.

‘At that time, I had no power, and the Heathers soon returned to their home country.’

What on earth had happened, and what kind of life had Deborah, who vanished before Zen’s eyes, been living until now?

‘…She said she had been married.’

What kind of man could it have been? What kind of bastard had occupied the place beside you? While I was longing for you, he must have been facing your smiling face. He must have placed his hand on your face and playfully kissed you. How dare he.

“…”

The stack of papers in Zen’s hand was miserably crumpled.