Was it Liena or Lieta?

The butler, seeing a familiar maid who had worked in the mansion since quite young now standing in the young lady’s dress, asked with a dumbfounded expression.

“What…?”

“How many times do I have to repeat! Can’t you understand at once?”

Mrs. Hurst lowered her voice slightly and scolded.

“This girl married in place of the young lady five years ago! Lord Arthur is looking for her! Can’t you grasp the situation?”

It wasn’t that the butler couldn’t understand.

He just couldn’t find the right words to express his thoughts on this situation.

“Huh…”

He put his hand to his forehead and sighed several times in succession.

“Huh.”

The butler ran his fingers through his hair, turning halfway around before suddenly shaking his fist wildly and shouting in a low voice.

“I understand, I understand! What I mean is…! How… how could you only tell me about such a big matter now, when things have come to this!”

The butler’s jaw trembled as he shook his fist in the air with an emotion that could have been anger or panic.

‘So that’s what he meant! That she’s not my wife! Oh no. If he takes issue with this…’

Deceiving the imperial family. Insulting the imperial family. Fraudulent marriage. False vows…

As he counted the possible charges, the butler’s head spun and he squeezed his eyes shut.

‘This crazy household has finally done something to get us all killed!’

The butler quickly composed himself, pushed up his glasses, and asked the head maid.

“Who else knows about this?”

Mrs. Hurst answered.

“You, me, Lady Christina, and the Marquis and his wife.”

And probably, Lord Arthur.

A few more questions followed to ascertain the facts.

Did this girl make the marriage vows before the priest? Did this girl spend the wedding night?

Was there any sign that Lord Arthur noticed anything that day, tell me honestly.

Mrs. Hurst answered most of them, while Reina stammered out answers to a few.

The butler, who had been staring at Reina with his mouth shut, shook his fist again, trembling.

“No, even so, to dress this girl up now… what are you trying to do!”

Reina closed her mouth in bewilderment and hung her head.

Knock knock.

At the sound of knocking, the head maid, the butler, and Reina all turned their heads to look at the door at the same time.

The butler, seemingly anxious that the door might open any moment, stood facing the door while hiding Reina behind his back and answered.

“What is it?”

A servant’s voice was heard from outside.

“Butler? Lord Rembrandt is asking about the family portrait schedule you mentioned today.”

The butler inhaled sharply and put his hand to his forehead.

…Lord Rembrandt!

He had completely forgotten in the unexpected chaos.

The servant’s voice continued.

“The Marquis said he wanted the first sketch to be done on the evening of Lord Arthur’s return. In fact, he’s been waiting for three hours already… Should I tell him to come back another day?”

The butler hurriedly checked his pocket watch once, then shoved it back into his pocket, clenching his fist.

‘Why schedule something that might not even happen!’

Rembrandt Eaton von Klein.

That was the name of the distinguished guest who had been staying at the marquis’s mansion for the past week.

He was the Emperor’s nephew-in-law and the crown prince’s first cousin, the heir to the ‘Klein’ family, which was said to have a longer history in the imperial palace than the current imperial family.

Normally, he wouldn’t be the type to do work suited for a court painter, but as he was also a promising painter, he was now exceptionally dispatched to the Julius territory to paint a portrait for the marquis.

He had come down in person and was staying at the mansion to fulfill the Emperor’s request to paint a portrait of ‘Elector Julius’, as a gesture of imperial favor.

The imperial family packaged this as ‘a small gift for the marquis who has made many contributions to the empire for a long time but only recently had his merits recognized – that is, who has only just barely become an elector’,

but it was quite exceptional and preferential, as no elector had ever been able to invite the heir of the ‘Klein’ family, let alone the Emperor’s nephew-in-law, for their personal portrait.

By sending ‘Lord Rembrandt’ to the marquis, the imperial family was showing the surrounding nobles just how much Marquis Julius’s status had risen.

Marquis Julius wanted to boast about this, so he deliberately scheduled overlapping appointments,

and would complain to the surrounding nobles, saying things like, “I have an appointment with the painter, so I can’t adjust my schedule freely for such an important person, it’s quite difficult,” thus flaunting the presence of Lord Rembrandt sent by the imperial family.

Since Lord Rembrandt was essentially serving as an envoy of imperial goodwill, he allowed the marquis to brag and puff himself up using his name.

Moreover, the process of portrait painting was usually accompanied by the kind of small talk that praised the subject, and.

Lord Rembrandt possessed adequate social skills.

“Not everyone has the discerning eye to recognize a pearl in the mud.”

“What nobleman would dare to take the Emperor’s son as a son-in-law?”

“A historic reunion will soon take place.”

“I’m looking forward to having a memorable experience to boast about as well.”

Then, the marquis, excited by Lord Rembrandt’s courtesies, readily said:

“Haha. Oh, it’s not such a historic scene. It will just be an ordinary family reunion.”

“But if you insist on thinking of it as a historic scene that others might be curious about, I wonder if it would be too presumptuous to ask Lord Rembrandt for one painting…”

…And so the marquis had scheduled ‘Lord Rembrandt’s’ appointment to capture today’s event, that is, the reunion of Arthur, Christina, and the marquis couple, in a single painting.

And that Lord Rembrandt had been waiting patiently for three hours at the appointed place.

The butler felt like biting his tongue off and dying right there.

“And the madam and master?”

“They are hosting a street banquet for the crowd gathered in the square. Reporters have started to arrive as well, and since it’s a sudden schedule, both of them are quite flustered…”

The butler nearly burst out shouting.

‘Are reporters the issue now!’

Lord Rembrandt was essentially an envoy of the imperial family.

In other words, he was someone who closely reported the situation of the marquis’s household to the imperial family.

How would he report this news to the imperial family, after having to wait three hours for Lord Arthur and the marquis’s family who didn’t show up, in the middle of the marquis’s mansion that was turned upside down by the words ‘she’s not my wife’!

The butler hastily replied.

“Please convey our apologies that we’ve been completely overwhelmed today… No, no! I’ll go myself.”

The butler, just before rushing out, paused for a moment, looked at Reina for a few seconds, and said.

“…For now, you wait here in the dress.”

Reina watched the butler’s retreating back in a daze.

* * *

“…Ha.”

‘Lord Rembrandt’, who had followed the servant, checked the appearance of the woman and the head maid left in the room through a small piece of mirror held to the door crack and laughed in disbelief.

The young lady standing in a dress with a devastated look on her face.

Curly wheat-blonde hair, a beautiful face with deep eyes.

Dressed up in the gown, she looked surprisingly similar to ‘Christina’.

But she couldn’t fool his painter’s eye.

A subtly different impression. Different colored eyes.

Above all, she was someone Rembrandt already knew.

·

·

·

“Um… are you going to throw away that newsletter when you’re done reading it?”

A maid who had been side-eyeing him for a while as he was reading the imperial newsletter on a garden bench a few days ago.

When he was about to move away, uncomfortable with her inexplicable gaze,

she finally spoke up with difficulty, and what she said was…

“…Could you give it to me instead of throwing it away?”

As he stared at her, frozen in surprise, the maid’s face turned red and she added.

“Sh-should I pay you? That’s right, isn’t it…? I can’t afford much, but…”

Then she slowly pulled out the hand she had been hiding behind her apron.

The maid opened her tightly clenched fist to reveal three coins.

“…”

The coins were sweaty, as if she had been clutching them for a long time before approaching him.

·

·

·

Rembrandt crossed his arms, bowed his head deeply, and chuckled.

‘She’s not my wife.’

And the young lady suddenly brought in and dressed up.

A vague picture was forming.

Julius. This is quite a headache.

* * *

“What are you planning to do?”

To the question from his aide Tristan, Arthur answered while picking up a grape from the plate and eating it.

“Well? Let’s see what Marquis Julius does.”

Tristan said coldly.

“Isn’t the answer already clear enough? You’ve seen how they’re only now bringing out the ‘real Christina’. Without a word of apology. Pretending nothing happened.”

Arthur glanced at him.

He wasn’t usually a friend who spoke like this.

Tristan seemed even angrier than Arthur, the person directly involved.

It was understandable, as for Arthur, much time had passed and his regretful feelings about the incident had faded, but Tristan had only heard the full story of the incident just days before arriving at the Julius territory.

Arthur had spoken calmly, saying “Such a thing happened, so you should know,” but it was natural for sparks to fly from the eyes of his loyal aide.

How terribly the conscripted soldiers of the Julius territory had suffered over the past five years.

While war is inherently arduous, what built up a special resentment in their hearts was that ‘Julius’ had turned his back on them when they went to war and failed to provide proper supplies.

Still, they had held back from speaking harshly about Julius in front of Arthur, thinking he was Julius’s son-in-law and heir, enduring and enduring again.

A fraudulent marriage?

Tristan was on the verge of going mad with anger.

In place of Julius who had abandoned them, Arthur had kept the soldiers fed for five years.

Now the soldiers adore and respect Arthur, but for a long time, Arthur had to endure the soldiers’ protests and resentment about supplies as the representative of ‘Julius’.

It was a miracle that the army was maintained, and there were several truly dangerous situations with desertion, insubordination, and rebellion.

Yet, towards him who always stood at the forefront of the most dangerous battles, everyone took Arthur’s sense of responsibility for granted, saying things like, “That person has promised wealth and glory waiting for him when he returns,” “He has Christina Julius, said to be the most beautiful woman in high society.”

But it was a fraudulent marriage!

The more he thought about it, the more outrageous and infuriating it became.

If that was the case, Arthur actually had no reason to be responsible for this army, but knowing everything, he had kept them fed while taking the blame for Julius, holding the most dangerous positions.

Arthur laughed.

“Well, it seems he intends to give his real daughter this time. It could be seen as a gesture of reconciliation, right?”

Tristan flared up.

“How is that a gesture of reconciliation? Frankly, Lady Christina is too good for you! It was true before and it’s even more so now.”

“…Thanks?”

Half smiling, half wry. When Arthur responded ambiguously, not seeming to truly agree, Tristan became more excited and urged Arthur.

“He’s treating you like a fool! Don’t you think he assumes you didn’t know he sent a fake five years ago?”

Arthur tried to soothe Tristan with the same smile on his face.

“That’s why I said she’s not my wife. Wasn’t their expression worth seeing?”

It was worth seeing.

But Tristan still had a face full of dissatisfaction and grumbled.

“Even so…! Ugh. Are you really satisfied with just that?”

Thinking that a loyal subordinate is cute, Arthur rolled a fruit with his fingertip.

“You’re not over it? Should I punish them more?”

Tristan choked up and raised his voice towards Arthur.

“Is my feelings the problem right now?”

Arthur laughed lightly.