Ranslet shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the situation.

She expected some change from the moment the western mansion became clean and something similar to the vines she had seen in her childhood slowly began to climb up the outer wall, but she didn’t think it would change so rapidly.

She looked at the sunlight flowing along Clad’s slender and clean facial lines with teary eyes.

No matter what action Clad took, whether her father, who always suppressed his emotions, or Lord Leve, who sneered at everything he did in his youth, it was very difficult for him to suppress the surging emotions.
Right there, the image of Emperor Alexei, who sat as enormous as Mount Tai and had placed little Clad on his lap, restraining and comforting him, came up like a mirage and faded away. The small child turned into ashes, burnt black in that spot, locking himself in, looking as if he would die in pain and darkness.

Always precarious, always wounded, always sensitive, always wavering. However, since the woman, Yvaine Félicité, entered the Black Mansion, Clad changed dramatically like bamboo shoots emerging from the ground, using the pain he had been suffering for ten years as nutrients.

“Mother… Father loved this land. Enough to say that she would rather be buried in the backyard of this mansion than in the royal cemetery. I can naturally take care of her, given my body condition, enough to sign on such papers a few times. Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s just natural care. Don’t make unnecessary thoughts.”

Clad.

Are those really unnecessary thoughts? Is it really a hasty conclusion?

The sunlight clinging to Clad seemed vivid even in Ranslet’s caramel-colored eyes. She could not ask Clad the question she couldn’t swallow and kept her mouth shut.

‘Do you really not love your wife?’

Finally, the western mansion was completely cleaned. The luggage cart that came in and out to fetch water finally ran to the front of the western mansion after hesitating in front of the first-floor entrance, where luggage was always piled up.

Some of the servants who jumped off the luggage cart sighed with admiration and loitered around the entrance of the western mansion. The original reddish skin of the western mansion sparkled like dewdrops on blooming roses under the sunlight.

The various flowering trees planted in the yard, as well as the vines growing lively and winding around the corners, made the young maids start to bustle about joyfully.

Yvaine greeted them and awkwardly lifted a broken pine tree, smiling gallantly at the head servant, Marjolaine, who drove the luggage cart.

The old groom, holding a similar-looking new pine tree in both hands, shook it, smiling as if to say it was okay.

“Lady, don’t you need to show it to the master quickly?”

“He hasn’t been out of the room lately. Isn’t he sick?”

Upon hearing the young maids’ chattering, Yvaine looked towards Gustaf, who awkwardly followed the broken branch and went to meet the luggage cart.

Gustaf made a suggestion.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself? By now, even the lord should take a rest.”

With the help of Henna, Yvaine nodded vigorously with the snacks provided by Chef Ralf.

Yvaine knocked on the office door, which was located on the third floor, and was as enormous and bulky as Clad’s bedroom on the second floor.

Even after knocking several times, there was no answer. Anxious, Yvaine glanced at Gustaf standing beside her.
Butler Gustaf faintly smiled and, instead of Yvaine, who had her hands full, opened the door.

“Don’t disturb.”

“Yes.”

With the sound of the closing door, Clad’s face, who had been directing his attention to the floor without looking at the door while muttering incantations, flashed.

Under the roughly swept blond hair, her pale and graceful face and languidly narrowed eyes met hers.

Yvaine approached him with a broad smile and placed the refreshments before him.

Clad, wiping his stiff eyes, glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Why now when it’s almost mealtime?”

“Wanna take a walk to the west mansion together?”

Clad, who was tapping the desk with a quill pen, looked up at Yvaine with anticipation. Then, with a light sigh, he put down the quill pen.

Looking at Clad with eyes full of anticipation, Yvaine approached and laid a notebook next to the refreshments. Clad, who had been tapping the desk with the quill pen, looked up at her with a glance, then put the pen down with a light sigh.

Yvaine cautiously glanced at him before placing the notebook she had brought under her arm gently next to the refreshments.

“The recipe for that cleaned the west mansion is here.”

One of Clad’s eyebrows shot up quickly.

While Clad, who had been only looking down at the notebook covered with handprints, was clenching his fist, Yvaine carefully placed the notebook on the desk next to the refreshments.

“The medicine was made by me, but the idea was suggested by Hille. If we commercialize this, we can make a fortune.”

“…You want to make money? Is your assigned budget insufficient?”

Since Clad started doing the work himself, the first thing he did was to maximize the budget assigned to Yvaine.

Yvaine nodded quickly with snacks provided by Chef Ralf.

Yvaine knocked on the door of the office, located on the third floor and as enormous and bulky as Clad’s bedroom on the second floor.

Even after knocking several times, there was no answer. Anxious, Yvaine glanced at Gustaf standing beside her.