“This is Jarvis. I’ve come today to take measurements for Viscount Borghese.”

Jarvis bowed slightly at the waist while discreetly observing the Viscount.

Instead of greeting him, the Viscount, who had a cigar in his mouth, blew smoke in Jarvis’s direction.

A hazy cloud of smoke soon wafted in front of Jarvis.

Coughing, Jarvis quickly lowered his head slightly and furrowed his brow. The smoke stinging his eyes made them water.

“So you’re Jarvis. My sister, the Duchess of Genoa, introduced you to me. She said the gloves you showed her at the tailor shop were quite nice. Did you bring them?”

“Yes, I have them here. I heard the Duchess of Genoa is very busy, so her schedule wasn’t convenient. Instead, I was told through the Madam that she would introduce me to Viscount Borghese.”

Jarvis nodded and began rummaging through the bag slung at his side to retrieve the gloves.

“These are the gloves I showed the Duchess at that time. The Duchess liked the first design, but I thought you might prefer something different, so I brought the second one as well.”

“Ah, so this is that design.”

The Viscount nodded and picked up the first pair of gloves.

“Indeed, the finishing and design are cleanly executed.”

“Thank you.”

Jarvis sat down and kept bowing his head repeatedly.

Unlike with Count Scala, Jarvis felt unable to relax his shoulders in a different way with the Viscount. There was an unusually strong sense of pressure bearing down.

Though his appearance and attire were no different from other nobles, strangely, it felt as if the very air was being constricted.

Jarvis tried to calm himself by taking an unnecessarily deep breath.

“I like the first one too. If you take my measurements today, when can I expect to receive the gloves?”

“At the earliest, ten days. At the latest, you’ll need to wait two weeks.”

“I see. Take my measurements then. By the way, would it be possible to make two pairs of the same design?”

“Ah, of course. It will take a bit more time though. Is that alright?”

The Viscount nodded in response to Jarvis’s question, stubbing out his cigar.

“That’s fine even if it takes longer.”

With the Viscount’s permission, Jarvis quickly pulled out a measuring tape, fountain pen, and notebook from his bag.

He was thinking only of getting away from this Viscount who gave off such a strange pressure as soon as he finished taking measurements.

“If you’ll give me your hand, I’ll measure the length and thickness of your fingers.”

Jarvis carefully grasped the Viscount’s hand, which was silently extended.

As he measured the Viscount’s long fingers with the tape, Jarvis began to manage his facial expression.

Though he hadn’t heard any stories about Viscount Borghese and didn’t know much, these were not the hands of an ordinary nobleman.

Moreover, they were oddly different from a knight’s hands as well.

The conquest wars had been long, so he had probably been to the battlefield at least once, but this was not someone who used ordinary swordsmanship.

He mainly uses a two-handed sword. This is the first time I’ve seen someone like this.

Well, as the heir to the Borghese ducal family, he probably learned various sword techniques from a young age. Don’t overthink it unnecessarily.

“As a glove artisan, just by looking at people’s hands you can tell what kind of work they do and which hand they use more often, can’t you?”

At the Viscount’s words, Jarvis inwardly flinched, but quickly put on a smile.

“Well, I can generally tell which hand someone uses more often. But I don’t know the details.”

Jarvis held his tongue.

Most nobles didn’t like it when commoners guessed what kind of work they did.

When he was younger, he used to run his mouth wanting to show off his skills, but after encountering a few nobles who expressed displeasure at feeling like a commoner had pried into their private lives, he learned to hold back.

Especially during the empire’s conquest wars, nobles who hadn’t gone to the battlefield often felt inferior just from the lack of calluses on their hands, so glove makers absolutely had to watch what they said.

Of course, it wasn’t much different with knights who had been to war.

Sometimes they would praise Jarvis’s abilities if he guessed what kind of sword they used or which hand they favored, but in the end, knights also didn’t like feeling like their swordsmanship had been exposed.

Jarvis had learned countless times that it was better for someone of his common status to say nothing at all.

“Then can you tell which hand I use more often?”

The Viscount asked him. Jarvis inadvertently recalled the assessment he had already made just from looking at his hands.

The everyday use was clearly the right hand, but looking at the placement of calluses, one could easily mistake it for someone who used both hands.

Of course, that was because he used dual swords, but an ordinary glove maker would think he used both hands…

“You can tell me what you see.”

The Viscount spoke as if he could read Jarvis’s thoughts.

Jarvis swallowed hard and let out an awkward laugh.

“Haha. It’s difficult. I’m just a glove maker, how could I know about people’s daily lives? I only thought you must have trained in swordsmanship from the many calluses.”

Jarvis said something very obvious. If a noble’s hands had calluses, it was usually from sword training.

“Is that so? It seems difficult for you to speak.”

“Pardon? No, not at all.”

“Others speak easily enough. Seeing how you’re holding back, it seems you’ve noticed something from my hands.”

“Ah…”

Jarvis broke out in a cold sweat.

“It’s alright, go ahead and tell me. You can think of it as me wanting to know your skill.”

“Ah, well then… It seems you mainly use your right hand for everyday tasks.”

Though the Viscount kept saying it was fine, Jarvis felt almost forced to open his mouth.

He had the feeling that if he didn’t speak truthfully, his breath might be cut off right here.

*

“Mom?”

Lucy, sitting at the dining table without Damian, looked at the empty seat and then turned to Eriel.

Eriel’s gaze was also directed at Damian’s vacated seat, but she quickly gave a gentle smile at Lucy’s call.

“Yes?”

“Why was Dad angry yesterday?”

Lucy looked at Eriel as she brought up the topic of Damian.

“Well…”

Eriel began to speak slowly as she cut up the mushrooms from the salad into bite-sized pieces and placed them on the child’s plate.

“There have been some unpleasant things happening to Lucy recently, and your father had to stay at the mansion because of false accusations against our family. Right?”

Eriel made eye contact with Lucy as she listed the recent events.

Lucy nodded her head while poking at the mushrooms Eriel had put on her plate with her fork.

The child, chewing the mushrooms with her small mouth, nodded her head repeatedly.

The child, who ate without being picky, always followed Eriel’s words well.

“I think your father was very worried. When he heard that Mom and Lucy were going to the dress shop that might be related to that incident, he must have been extremely concerned.”

Eriel exaggerated the emotion of worry as she explained, dropping her eyebrows.

She hoped Lucy would understand Damian’s feelings, but the explanation might not be sufficient.

Since their relationship had only recently improved, it was hard to gauge how much affection Lucy felt for Damian.

On the other hand, Damian’s worry and affection were visible to the eye.

“Dad was really worried.”

The child, having finished eating the mushrooms, nodded her head.

“I know that worry too.”

Lucy’s gaze lifted. Making eye contact with Eriel, Lucy blinked slowly, looking very sad.

“Not wanting to lose Mom… it’s the same for me and Dad. He must have rushed over from the palace thinking you were going somewhere dangerous. Dad must have been so worried.”

Eriel took a deep breath.

She felt her breathing might waver. She was grateful that the child understood her father’s concern, but she also felt that the child might have matured beyond her years after experiencing the major event of being kidnapped.

She was already precocious to begin with. And now even more so…

“Mom.”

Lucy quietly called out to Eriel.

“Our family loves everyone. The way we show it might be a little different, but Dad loves us too. Even if it didn’t lead to good results, you and I both know that Dad’s worry is love for us.”

Eriel’s eyes trembled, brimming with moisture.

She swallowed unnecessarily and smiled at Lucy, nodding her head.

“Mom is learning so much from our Lucy.”

“No way. It’s because you like me more than Dad.”

Lucy lifted her head proudly and jokingly ranked their love.

“You were worried I’d be hurt by Dad’s actions. Don’t worry. Mom’s daughter is not only a genius, but also strong, you know?”

“Our daughter is strong? To Mom’s eyes, you don’t look strong at all. You look like you might blow away in the wind.”

“Then try blowing now.”

“Huh?”

Lucy puffed out her cheeks.

“Whoosh-. Like this.”

Eriel burst out laughing. Then she puffed out her cheeks like Lucy.

“Whoosh-.”

When Eriel blew, Lucy grinned and put her hands on her hips.

“See? I’m strong, right? I didn’t blow away even when Mom blew.”

“Oh my, our Lucy. You really are strong.”

When Eriel praised her, Lucy stabbed some greens from the salad with her fork and chewed them in her mouth.

“I eat my vegetables well too.”

“Oh my, our daughter! You eat your vegetables well too! You really, really are strong!”

As Eriel even clapped her hands, Lucy’s nose seemed like it might rise up in pride.

“Of course! I’m Mom’s daughter, after all?”

The grinning child made eye contact with Eriel.

All the emotions and thoughts that had been anxiously stirring her heart until now were completely washed away.