MPBGS 52

Chapter : 52

“You look truly wonderful!”

Despite the bright, cheerful voice, the dark circles under her eyes made her look like someone who hadn’t slept for ten days. Smiling absentmindedly as she looked at the outfit I was wearing, Artemisia wiped away tears with a handkerchief.

“I’m so proud of myself right now.”

It wasn’t my debutante outfit, but the one I would wear when visiting Lady Toten, who had agreed to serve as my chaperone. There wasn’t time to make a new dress, so she had altered a boutique dress to suit me. Artemisia had explained everything in detail, but I had only half-listened, so I couldn’t remember much.

“Noble ladies like lively young ladies, but they also love modest, refined ones just as much. And since Lady Toten sees her sick child in you, I removed all the lace, reduced the decorations, and emphasized a sense of delicate melancholy!”

In truth, it didn’t look very different from what I usually wore. If I said that, she would probably cry.

“I really like it. Thank you for your hard work, Artemisia.”

“P-please call me Misha….”

As expected, praise was the right answer. It seemed the emotional distance between us had narrowed a bit. Instead of five syllables, I could now call her “Misha”—just two.

“Thanks to you, I’ll be able to make a good impression on Lady Toten.”

Sniff. “I have no regrets left. Please take care….”

Misha staggered off and returned to the dressing room. It seemed she was going back to making debutante dresses. She looked like she might drop dead at any moment—did she not need sleep? I felt like a ruthless employer, even though I wasn’t actually overworking her.

“Young lady, it seems we should depart now.”

Hena checked the time and stood up, gathering the belongings. Right… there’s nothing else to do if I stay here. I should focus on what I need to do.

Today’s outing would be with Hena, myself, and Melek. Melek, who had suddenly appeared, was today’s coachman.

After the visit to the temple, the previous coachman had quit, leaving the position vacant, which Melek had taken over. According to what Mary told me, he had shown remarkable talent as a coachman from the stables onward. Mary had complained, saying she could only feed carrots and felt left behind.

“Gamigin, I’m counting on you.”

Melek patted the horse. He couldn’t even name himself properly, yet he named the horse? Promising an exceptionally smooth ride, Melek helped me into the carriage.

But… he’s driving with a blindfold? Well, as a ghost, maybe it doesn’t matter. I knew that, so I could ride without worry, but I wondered if others might find it frightening. However, Hena calmly followed me into the carriage without hesitation. Apparently not. It would only seem scary to observers. As long as we were fine, it didn’t matter.

As expected, his talent as a coachman was well deserved. The carriages I had ridden before rattled so much that my hips hurt, but with Melek driving, it was so smooth I couldn’t even tell we were moving. So this was the quality of a ghost-driven carriage?

Before I knew it, we had arrived at the Toten Marquisate. Perhaps Gabriel had properly conveyed the message, because the gates opened immediately, and the carriage passed through, stopping right in front of the mansion.

Wow. It’s enormous.

It would be rude to even compare it to the Rohanson Count’s estate.

“Are you Lady Rohanson? Thank you for visiting the Toten Marquisate.”

“Thank you for the welcome.”

A gray-haired man who appeared to be a butler came out to greet us.

“The Marchioness has been waiting for you.”

Hena and I followed the butler into the mansion. From behind us, I heard a servant who was directing where the carriage should park exclaim in surprise upon seeing Melek’s blindfold.

‘Surely he didn’t drive like that…?’

I don’t know anything about that. Let’s hurry inside.

The interior of the Toten Marquisate was quite unique.

All the windows were open, likely for ventilation, and the furniture was so spotless it looked as though not a speck of dust remained. Religious decorations were displayed throughout. The place felt almost obsessively maintained—not so much a living residence as a film set.

Sunlight streamed in well, enhancing the colors. Was I watching a movie right now? Sitting in front of a screen, the sense of reality seemed to fade, but the butler’s voice snapped me back to attention. Right—I need to focus on the story.

“It’s been quite a long time since the mistress has invited guests like this.”

The elderly butler smiled warmly as he spoke.

“Isn’t the Marchioness well known for her popularity?”

Huh? Why? According to Gabriel, Lady Toten was well-connected and socially adept. That was why he said she would be useful as a chaperone for introductions.

Gabriel wouldn’t have lied, so was it just a façade of social relationships? That seemed very aristocratic.

“Ahaha. At times like these, a noisy environment is not ideal for calming one’s mind.”

Ah. He must be referring to her ill son. Come to think of it, it made sense she wouldn’t want to host guests and make merry while caring for a sick child. Wait—then maybe I shouldn’t have come at all?

So that’s why Gabriel had suggested inviting Lady Toten to the Rohanson estate instead. I didn’t know that and still insisted on coming. Honestly, this was Gabriel’s fault for not stopping me.

“This is the first time the mistress has agreed to serve as a chaperone. It must be influenced by what she heard from the knight commander.”

“What she heard about me being ill?”

“Yes. That is likely why she unusually permitted the visit.”

The butler glanced at me subtly. He was implying that Lady Toten agreed to meet me and serve as my chaperone because my situation resembled that of her sick son—and that I had barged in without understanding that kindness.

His indirect criticism was impressive, likely honed by years of experience. Still, he wasn’t wrong, so I couldn’t really argue. Sorry for lacking consideration.

“And if I may say something presumptuous as an old man… please do not give the mistress false hope.”

False hope? What did he mean?

“Recently, the mistress had only just begun to come to terms with things, but after hearing about Lady Rohanson, she seems to have gained hope that Lord Ryder might also show improvement.”

So that’s a good thing, right? I had become some kind of symbol of hope.

“But Lord Ryder is truly beyond help, to the point that even holy water is ineffective….”

The butler trailed off, sounding pained. I had been shortsighted. Sometimes hope can be poison.

He bowed his head. Wait—was he crying? It seemed the illness was more severe than I thought. If even holy water had no effect, it must be serious—perhaps terminal?

In summary, the butler was asking me not to give false encouragement suggesting recovery, since Lady Toten’s son would not recover like I appeared to. If she were to hope and then be disappointed, the emotional damage could be devastating.

“…The mistress may ask you how you recovered.”

“Don’t worry. Even if she invited me in hopes of finding answers, there’s not much I can tell her.”

There really wasn’t anything to worry about. Evangeline was already dead, and the “recovery” I showed was only because I had possessed her body. It wasn’t a miracle within this world’s system, so I couldn’t offer any meaningful advice.

Hearing my words, the butler looked relieved. He truly cared about Lady Toten. A model butler indeed. The one at my house is always frightened and runs away whenever he sees me. Though, given the crimes Evangeline committed, I couldn’t blame him.

“I’m relieved to find you much easier to speak with than I had heard.”

The butler smiled in relief. But hadn’t he been subtly criticizing me all along?

That was basically his way of saying, “Your reputation is terrible, but you’re surprisingly reasonable.” I could interpret everything now thanks to the “indirect speech” lessons from Dolinay.

Compared to all the people trembling in fear of Evangeline’s reputation, encountering someone this bold felt refreshing. It seemed butlers of high noble households had strong pride—this must be one of those cases.

Did he expect Evangeline to behave humbly before the marchioness who would act as her chaperone?

“You seem to respect Lady Toten very much.”

“Pardon?”

The butler turned to me at my sudden question.

“You’ve gone so far as to explain the marquisate’s internal affairs to someone you just met, all to ensure Lady Toten isn’t affected.”

As expected of a capable butler—sharp and perceptive. I acknowledged it fully. I have no pride to speak of. If I had pride, would I be mingling romantically with characters from a novel?

To praise his loyalty and insight, I decided to use Dolinay’s indirect speaking style.

“Someone might mistake you for the master of this estate.”

You certainly have a strong sense of ownership—an ideal candidate any employer would want! Woohoo!

“……”

Perhaps my flattery went too far, as the butler fell silent.

Ah, right. In romance fantasy settings, one shouldn’t be overly deferential to subordinates. I had unknowingly crossed that unspoken boundary with excessive praise.

In truth, I had considered retorting earlier when he had been subtly criticizing me, but I held back to avoid adding more negative rumors.

And if I snapped back and the butler later spoke ill of me to the marchioness, who would she trust more—me, or a butler she had worked with for years? If gossip began, my role as chaperone would be over immediately. So I had to restrain myself. Focus on the chaperone.

“You’re quite eloquent. Have you given the same treatment to all guests who have visited the marquisate?”

Top-tier customer service indeed—perfect guest handling!

If I could leave a review, I would have written: “The butler is kind and the marquisate is… well, delightful,” and given five stars.

Perhaps overwhelmed by the barrage of praise, the elderly butler began sweating nervously.