Chapter 75

Josephine bent down slightly to meet the girl’s eye level and greeted her.

“My name is Josephine. I’m Winter’s…”

“Fiancée, right? Master told me in advance.”

“Master?”

Josephine tilted her head in confusion, and the girl bowed politely.

“I’m Dahlia. I serve Baron Winslet in this house. Please feel free to let me know if you need anything.”

“Oh! So you’re the attendant he mentioned.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady.”

“Nice to meet you too. Then, Dahlia, could you call him for me?”

Dahlia shook her head.

“Master hasn’t returned yet.”

“He hasn’t?”

“No, he said something came up unexpectedly, and he might be a bit late. He asked me to apologize to you if you arrived before he got back.”

“I see…”

Josephine felt a little disappointed to hear that Winter wasn’t home, but if it was due to work, there wasn’t much she could do.

Dahlia naturally suggested,

“Would you like to come inside and wait?”

“That sounds good.”

“And the basket you brought…?”

“Oh, this is a gift. I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

It was a large flower basket and a bottle of wine. They were both purchased from shops recommended by her younger sister, Mary.

“Please allow me. I’ll carry them for you.”

“Thank you.”

While Josephine sat in the living room, looking around the house, Dahlia brought in a tea set along with a vase. The vase held the flowers Josephine had brought.

A pleasant scent filled the home, and it was clear that thoughtful care had gone into the pre-warmed teacups and the treats served alongside them.

Josephine could feel that she was being treated with genuine hospitality.

Some of her tension began to ease.

“Do you like the tea?”

“Yes, it’s refreshing.”

“I’m glad. It’s one of the master’s favorites. And I also heard that you enjoy this kind of cake, so I prepared it for you.”

With her eyes sparkling and her expression full of expectation, Dahlia looked just like a puppy waiting for praise.

Josephine smiled and invited her to sit.

“If you don’t mind, would you keep me company until Winter gets back?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well… if you’re okay with it. But… what should I talk about?”

“Anything is fine. Just like around here, for example. I’m curious about what Winter’s everyday life is like. I thought you’d know better than anyone.”

“If that’s the case… I’m confident I can help!”

Josephine soon learned that Dahlia singlehandedly cleaned and maintained this spacious house and that she also took care of Winter’s grooming every morning, from combing his hair to trimming his beard and nails.

She also found out what kinds of food Winter liked, when he usually went to bed, when he woke up, and more.

As Josephine listened to these little details, she could sense how much care and affection Dahlia had for Winter.

That kind of feeling was expected from a servant toward her master.

And yet…. something about it nagged at Josephine.

It reminded her of a rumor she’d once heard about Dahlia.

Josephine asked,

“I have something I’m curious about.”

“Please feel free to ask me anything.”

“How did you first meet him…Winter?”

For the first time, Dahlia’s expression darkened.

“…Is that a question I must answer?”

***

Rumors are a frightening thing.

You can’t choose whether you hear them or whether you become the subject of them and that powerlessness makes rumors a form of violence.

That’s exactly how Josephine had come to hear the nasty rumors about Dahlia.

They said Baron Winslet had once bought a common servant girl some very expensive clothes.

He must really favor her, people whispered.

Why else would he keep no other servants in the house and live alone with just her?

There’s no way their relationship is normal, right?

Josephine herself had once suffered greatly from being the subject of other people’s rumors.

And yet, she couldn’t help but be affected by the rumors she’d heard.

Especially since they were about her fiancé.

Is it because I still don’t trust him enough…?

Here she was, doubting the man who had always given her unconditional trust—

And all because of a young girl like this.

Josephine felt ashamed of herself.

Crude rumors have a way of making even the people swayed by them feel just as crude.

But Josephine’s relationship with Winter was more precious to her than her own pride.

That was why she needed to understand what kind of girl Dahlia really was.

She didn’t want to be plagued by this unease any longer—

Even if this was the only way to ease it.

“Tell me. Why are you the only servant in this mansion? And how did you and Winter meet?”

Dahlia replied reluctantly.

“It’s not a story you’ll be happy to hear.”

“I’m engaged to your master, and once we’re married, I’ll be your master too. That means I have the right to know about you.”

“…If it’s an order, then…”

“It is.”

“…Understood.”

Josephine’s voice was firm, and Dahlia could only nod.

After taking a breath, she began removing her gloves.

Even though it was no longer cold, Dahlia had been wearing long gloves that reached up to her elbows.

Josephine tilted her head in confusion.

Why the gloves all of a sudden?

She watched in puzzlement—

Until her eyes widened in shock.

Dahlia’s now-bare arms and hands were covered in horrific scars that words could barely describe.

They were burn marks.

Dahlia spoke quietly.

“When I was a child, an epidemic swept through my village. These scars are what it left behind. And the master… he’s the one who saved my life.”

***

The epidemic had been one that burned its victims alive while they were still conscious.

No one knew the name of the disease.

The only way to understand it was to experience it in your own body.

It would start with a mild fever.

Then, the skin would begin to redden, as if slowly cooking.

Eventually, the extremities would blacken, as though scorched by fire—

And death would follow.

No one had ever survived it.

The only person left alive in the village was Dahlia.

And she too was destined to follow the others into death—

Until a tall man appeared before her as she lay dying helplessly in the shade near the village well.

***

Despite recalling such a painful memory, Dahlia continued in a dry, detached tone, as though it meant little to her now.

It was as if she were drawing a line between her past and her present—

As if she wanted to separate herself from that life completely.

But her voice softened slightly when she spoke of how she met her current master.

“He happened to be traveling nearby at the time. I suppose luck was on my side. He took me to the nearest town and got me medical treatment. He even paid the physician to care for me until I recovered. And in the end… he took me in when I had nowhere else to go.”

There were other details Dahlia chose not to mention—

Like how the disease hadn’t fully disappeared from her body,

And how she still required periodic help from her master to suppress the symptoms.

She withheld that part, fearing it might cause unnecessary misunderstanding.

“To me, master is the one who saved my life. I’m beyond grateful for everything he’s done…. taking me in, raising me. So please, miss, don’t think poorly of me. All I want is to repay the kindness I received.”

Dahlia looked down at the back of her scar-covered hand as she finished speaking.

I wonder if the young lady was satisfied with my answer.

With that thought, she lifted her head…only to freeze in surprise.

Josephine was crying, with big tears rolling down her cheeks.

Startled, Dahlia quickly called out to her.

“Young lady?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Why are you apologizing?”

“I just… I just feel like I should.”

Josephine gently took Dahlia’s hand in hers—

Then brought it to her cheek.

Lukewarm tears trickled down, running along the back of Dahlia’s hand.

To Dahlia, it was a hand she found unsightly….rough, bumpy, and covered in scars.

Others had found it disgusting too.

The servants from the Academy who used to work at the Winslet mansion who were now long gone had treated Dahlia’s scars like something filthy.

Rather than asking what had happened, they kept their distance and whispered among themselves behind her back.

Most people reacted that way, and so Dahlia had come to accept it as normal.

Which is why Josephine’s response left her even more flustered.

Not knowing what to do with her hand, Dahlia fidgeted nervously—

Then finally gave up and let Josephine do as she pleased.

She doesn’t mind it…

There really were people like this in the world.

People who, instead of mocking someone’s painful story, would shed tears for them.

That simple fact brought Dahlia a strange sense of relief—

And with it came a feeling of elation she had never known before.

She felt genuinely glad that Josephine was her master’s fiancée.

“Young lady, there’s something I’d like to ask as well.”

“What is it?”

“If you don’t mind… would you tell me how you met Master? Of course, only if you’re comfortable sharing.”

“Not at all. I’ll tell you.”

Josephine gave a gentle smile, and before long, the two of them had lost track of time, chatting happily as their tea grew cold.

***

A weekend afternoon.

While Josephine and Dahlia were deep in conversation, I was making my way to the Academy’s animal quarters.

More precisely, to a certain facility located beneath them.

Descending the stairs, damp and cold with a lingering chill, I emerged into a space that resembled a dungeon.

And of course, where there’s a prison, there’s bound to be a warden.

“You’ve arrived, Professor Winslet. Huhuhu…”

From the shadows, a man holding a candlestick stepped forward and greeted me.

Once, he had tried to mess with me using black magic—

Now, after receiving a thorough lesson, he had become my loyal underling.

It was Jonathan Kingfisher, the Magic Department’s dean.