Chapter 36. If You Don’t Like It

2023.11.05.

“Oh, that dog.”

“You know this dog, my lady?”

“Is this the dog His Highness used to raise?”

Yuan slowly approached the dog, waving the dried meat Ralph had given her for when his mouth got bored. He had said he specifically reduced the salt content because he made it for Yuan to eat.

The dog tucked its tail between its legs and hesitated.

Thinking the dog seemed timid despite its impressive appearance, Yuan carefully laid the dried meat in front of it and stepped back a few paces, crouching down.

“Hena. Do you know this dog’s name?”

When Hena didn’t answer, Yuan briefly turned her head and looked up at Hena, who was standing nearby. Hena, still staring at the dog, stammered and whispered in reply.

“It’s Oliver, my lady.”

“Oliver.”

At the sound of its name, the dog perked up its pointed ears once, then slowly uncurled its tail and began to wag it gently. Yuan let out a soft sigh of relief and spoke gently.

“Oliver, I’m going to clean your home now. Just so you know, I’m asking for your permission.”

Oliver lowered his head and sniffed cautiously, then flattened his ears and crouched lower.

“If you eat this, I’ll take it as your approval.”

Finally, Oliver cautiously flicked his tongue at the dried meat placed before him, then began chewing it with a smacking sound.

In that moment, Yuan carefully reached out her hand. Oliver instantly lowered his posture further, resisting her touch, but didn’t fully pull away.

Respecting Oliver, Yuan refrained from forcibly petting his head and silently watched. The dog, after hesitating as if wanting to run off with the meat, eventually placed it near Yuan and happily began eating.

“…It seems Oliver doesn’t dislike you, my lady.”

“Hena?”

Startled by the sobbing voice, Yuan quickly stood up.

Hena, hugging the cleaning solution, had her head deeply bowed. Thick tears dripped steadily from beneath her lowered face.

“Oliver must like you, my lady. Huhuuh—!!”

***

At the same time.

Hille ended his medical check-up, pretending not to notice Clade’s cold, intimidating aura that had lingered throughout the morning appointment.

“I’ll bring the newly made painkiller before dinner. You seem to be sleeping well—your complexion is better, and there’s nothing particularly lacking.”

“Same words every day.”

“…Pardon?”

“Go sit in that corner and observe closely. See how much has truly changed from usual.”

“…Pardon?”

“Don’t speak. Shut your mouth and your ears. Don’t wander around pointlessly.”

While Hille stood bewildered by the absurd command,

the butler entered with lunch.

Normally one might expect a welcome at mealtime, but Clade, who moments earlier would have sharply turned at the sound of the door opening, now merely glanced over at the butler holding the tray with a dissatisfied expression.

Before the butler could even react to the unpleasant gaze, Clade propped his chin on his hand and turned his eyes toward the window.

“Maybe I should redesign the garden.”

Clade suddenly muttered this to himself, almost like a sigh, as he dryly scanned the garden.

Gustav, arranging the dishes, looked puzzled, so Clade answered himself.

“Spring is coming soon.”

Since when did you start caring about the garden? The butler stared at Clade’s face, which showed no interest in the food, then hesitantly asked, driven by a flicker of hope.

“…Should I show you the related budget proposal?”

“Go ahead.”

The butler quickly pulled out a thick file he had tucked under his arm.

It was hard to suppress the corners of his mouth, which kept trying to rise.

For the first time in ten years since Clade’s collapse, he was asking to see his own work.

For ten years, this responsibility had been divided between the Rev brothers and the butler.

Now that he thought about it, ever since the new lady had entered the mansion, Clade’s tense demeanor had gradually softened, his waking hours during the day had increased, and the amount of painkillers Hille administered had slightly decreased.

“The second marked section contains the budget and execution records for the garden and exterior of the mansion.”

“Oh, don’t close the curtains.”

Gustav stopped in his tracks, about to close the curtains for Clade, whose brow had furrowed from the bright sunlight.

“If you close them, do it halfway—only block the light hitting my face.”

“?”

“…I need to read.”

An unnecessary explanation, offered unprompted.

Clade, as if trying to avoid the butler’s odd gaze, suddenly snapped at Hille, who had been lingering in the corner.

“Glasses-wearing doctor. If I so much as feel pain, run to the console and fetch the painkiller immediately.”

After the meal ended.

Clade hesitated briefly, then slowly furrowed his brows toward the butler who was busily clearing the table.

“What is she doing?”

“Who do you mean, sir?”

“…The former Crown Princess.”

The butler’s smile grew noticeably deeper, so Clade hastily lowered his eyes to the budget proposal.

“Never mind. Don’t tell me. She’s probably wandering around somewhere, stirring up trouble or pretending to help with work.”

Muttering to himself, Clade twirled the quill between his long fingers and swiftly wrote down the maximum possible amount in the staff hiring budget. His movements were irritable.

The butler, grinning from ear to ear, took the budget file and empty dishes Clade handed back and left.

Left alone with Clade, Hille stammered as he watched Clade walk with impatient steps to the rocking chair and slump down.

“I, it’s really nice weather today, Your Highness. Winter seems to be ending—the daylight feels a bit longer.”

“Damn it. The sun is getting annoyingly long.”

A sharp, irritated response shot back at the light comment about the weather.

Hille blinked with pitiful, drooping eyes and stuttered.

“U-uh, do you have any plans for tonight…?”

“I told you not to listen, glasses-wearing doctor.”

An equally abrupt and sharp glare shot toward Hille.

“Don’t leave. Stay right there and keep watching me. If you want to leave, go pray for the sun to set faster.”

Hille was on the verge of tears.

***

Oliver circled around Hena, who was sobbing uncontrollably. Judging by their close appearance, it seemed Hena had been the one caring for Oliver all along.

After consoling Hena, who had been crying bitterly for a while, Yuan pretended not to notice her growing embarrassment.

She had given up counting the bricks and was crouched at the edge. Hena, apparently ashamed of suddenly bursting into tears, desperately wiped her face and tried to act casual as she spoke.

“Sniff. My lady, if you keep crouching like that, your knees will be ruined when you’re older.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“My grandmother.”

“You have a grandmother too?”

Hena fell silent again.

Such a young maid, yet full of secrets.

Recalling Hena’s tearful reaction when she first saw Oliver today, and her flustered expression when brought to this west wing, Yuan resolved to ask properly someday.

Diluting the cleaning solution in a small bucket of water, Yuan dipped and wrung out the brush, ignoring Hena’s protests and beginning to scrub.

“Wow!”

Scrubbing was more like scraping off layers of black soot, revealing the bricks’ original red color. After a few more strokes, they became glossy.

Yuan scrubbed repeatedly, three or four times over, until not a speck of ash remained. The red bricks shone as if they had been freshly laid, not merely cleaned.

“Wow, my lady!”

If she could restore this place bit by bit to its former beautiful, red state, Clade wouldn’t be able to resist coming to see it.

“My lady! It’s so amazing!”

“Right? I plan to gradually erase this grime from today.”

“I’ll help too!”

“No. I’ll do it myself.”

“What? Why?”

“You and the other servants are always busy and exhausted with main house duties. How could I possibly make you do this too?”

Hena quickly nodded in agreement, recalling her own hectic daily routine.

But she seemed uneasy about letting the noble lady do such work, fidgeting and hesitating, searching for the right words to stop her.

“I’m doing it for exercise. And—”

Yuan carefully brought forth words she had buried deep inside.

Words strong enough to break Hena’s stubborn refusal—alongside the butler—to let her do menial tasks.

“I want to clean it completely and beautifully with my own hands, and show it to His Highness. Like a gift.”

“Hic—!”

“Do you understand what I mean?”

Hena, about to burst into joyful squeals, tightly covered her mouth with both small hands and vigorously nodded. Behind her hands, her large eyes sparkled toward Yuan.

Yuan kept scrubbing busily and sent Hena back to the main house first.

Partly because she didn’t want to steal Hena’s time, and partly to hide her own face, which she didn’t realize had turned red.

“It’s harder than I thought.”

Yuan sighed softly, gazing at the bricks—about twenty of them—now restored to their original color.

She stood up, stretching her stiff back, and looked up at the sky. The sun still showed no sign of setting.

—“Beep. Beep.”

Suddenly, she followed a faint sound nearby and turned her gaze—only to find, surprisingly, Oliver sitting quietly, watching her from a distance.

“Oliver?”

Oliver perked his ears once, then turned his head away as if his business was done.

Of course.

There’s no way his heart has opened already.

Both his appearance and temperament strangely resemble his master.

I should ask Clade about Oliver someday, Yuan thought, shifting her gaze to where Oliver lay, gazing endlessly.

…In the direction of Clade’s bedroom.

Her heart ached.

Was this dog waiting here every day for a master who never came to see him?

“Oliver. Your master may have a bad temper, but he does care about you.”

Oliver twitched his ears a few times.

His gaze remained fixed on Clade’s bedroom.

…If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t even keep you around.”

She almost whispered the last sentence.

Yuan covered her reddening ears with both hands, as if shaking off a strange emotion, then noisily crouched down again.

With each stroke of the brush, the old black grime disappeared.

‘I wish the sun would set faster.’

She didn’t know why.

She just knew that when night fell, the time would come when Clade would need her—and then, without even needing the excuse of bringing a meal, she could cross the threshold of that bedroom.