TMIAP Chapter 18

The Mollette mansion Monica returned to was tremendously busy with preparations for the soirée.

Entering the mansion gate, Monica gasped at the decorations and lanterns that filled the garden densely. She'd known the Mollette family was extremely wealthy, but she hadn't known to this extent.

"Ah! Miss Monica!"

Hans the gardener brightened at the sight of Monica. He'd received the packages sent for Monica and stacked them behind his assigned area.

"People were too busy to carry them up to your room."

"Not at all. I'm grateful you took them in at all."

"And I'm really sorry about last time."

Ah. Monica opened her mouth slightly and smiled awkwardly.

Hans, after being thoroughly scolded by Maria on the day Monica was injured, had been looking for a chance to apologize to her ever since.

"I was the one who fell. You don't need to apologize."

"But that day I was waiting, why..."

"Oh my, that's a lot of luggage!"

Hans was about to say something when Monica quickly lifted the boxes Hans had stacked. It was clear why the gardener's cheeks flushed whenever he saw her and he wanted to speak to her, but Monica didn't want to engage with him.

More precisely, she didn't want to give him any opening. But the next moment, Monica staggered.

"Oh my."

"Oh dear, let me carry that for you!!"

She'd thought it was just four outfits, but why were the boxes so heavy! She'd been careless because Luis had carried them so easily, but the weight was no joke. Hans quickly took them from her, though he too swayed slightly.

"What's so..."

"I can carry them, it's fine!"

"No, let me carry them up for you!"

They went back and forth, but in the end she couldn't win against Hans rolling up both his sleeves and insisting. Monica picked up one box containing a small gray dress and followed him.

However, she barely managed to prevent Hans from following her all the way into her room. Hans looked extremely disappointed, but when Monica shook her head, he didn't insist.

"Um, you're going to the soirée tomorrow because of the young master, right?"

"Yes, why?"

Having set down the boxes, Hans scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well, the servants have decided to have drinks together after the soirée ends."

"I see..."

"If you're available, Miss Monica..."

Monica declined quickly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure when the young master might fall ill, so it'll be difficult."

Even after the soirée ended, the servants' work wouldn't be finished. So they were talking about having drinks at dawn, and Monica had no desire to spend that time with servants she wasn't even close to yet.

Of course, if Maria or the other maids had invited her, she might have accepted. But when the man before her obviously had feelings for her, who would accept that invitation?

Hans hesitated, then left with only a comment to think about it. Monica sighed and finally opened her door. The day felt strangely long.

As Monica was moving the boxes into her room, something she hadn't seen before caught her eye. Going closer, she found several outfits laid on her bed.

Only then did Monica remember she was supposed to visit Riella's room. When Riella's outing had been moved up, Mistress Oraingne must have brought them here.

Monica picked up the clothes laid on the bed. Though they were last year's fashion, to Monica's eyes they were incomparably beautiful. One perfectly maintained snow-white dress, and one modest sky-blue dress.

Both were more than suitable for a young lady in her prime to wear, but after some consideration, Monica set both dresses down. Then she opened the box Luis had given her.

The clothes Luis had chosen for her were inside. Even at a glance, they compared favorably to Riella's two dresses.

"That rake."

Even as she said it, a faint smile rose to Monica's lips. Though she'd felt burdened and refused when Luis bought them, now that she thought of them as clothes just for her, she felt pleased.

"It's a bit much to accept from someone I'll never see again, though..."

Monica retied her hair that had become disheveled from going out, thinking about Luis.

He'd seemed to talk about himself freely, but when she actually thought about it, he hadn't revealed anything about where he lived or what he did.

He'd treated her gently because of his connection to Garcia, even gifting her four whole outfits, but the line he'd drawn was clear.

'I ended up talking about myself an awful lot.'

Of course, she didn't regret it. Luis had felt genuinely comfortable to be around. But the fact that he drew lines while calling her "my love" did seem rather cold. Moreover...

'Who was he avoiding?'

Seeing a group of aristocratic young ladies emerging from the dressmaker's shop, Luis had hidden in the shadow of a building. The way he'd looked at them, even forgetting Monica was there, had seemed quite suspicious.

"Isn't he a con artist?"

Mekal asked indifferently. Monica furrowed her brow.

"A con artist?"

"La Spezia really is full of strange people."

She barely swallowed the words: The strangest person I've seen is you, doctor...

It was the day of the soirée. Martinael, excited since morning, had changed clothes twice. He'd put on his new shoes and run around wildly, falling once and oddly hurting his hand on the floor, getting a large splinter stuck in it. Monica had removed the splinter with her tweezers and disinfected it, but just in case, she'd called for Mekal.

Mekal had appeared splendidly dressed. His face was as gaunt as ever, but apparently he was planning to attend the soirée today as well.

Monica didn't know what to do with herself from embarrassment, but Martinael was rather shameless.

"Dr. Mekal probably didn't want to go to the soirée anyway."

He was right. Mekal examined Martinael's hand cheerfully. Soirées were just bothersome. When asked why he was dressed up then, he said patrons were important for doctors.

"To open a private practice, you need good patrons. You have to build relationships with people you've been a personal physician to for a long time, but that's difficult in La Spezia."

With so many people newly relocated here, there hadn't been enough time to accumulate long physician-patient relationships.

"I have the Mollette family, but my sister says I can't rely only on the Mollettes forever and pushed me to go to the soirée..."

Whoever Mekal's sister was, she seemed quite capable. In any case, that's why Mekal examined Martinael's wound very thoroughly before sending the boy to change clothes.

Monica, sitting across from him, suddenly asked Mekal a question. If there was a very handsome man who avoided aristocratic young ladies the moment he saw them, what would he think?

And the answer she got was that.

"This is a port city, isn't it? More people flooded here than the capital because of the war. With so many riffraff around... There are plenty of scoundrels trying to capture the hearts of young ladies made anxious by the war and make a fortune. If he's not a con artist, then he's that kind of, um."

Mekal tilted his head and continued.

"Femme fatale? No, wait. Since he's a man, would he be a rattlesnake?"

Rattle... Monica almost collapsed. Then she barely managed to add:

"He said he was a medical student though..."

He did seem like a rake, but it didn't quite seem like that... was what she meant.

Medical school required a great deal of money, and Luis had bought her four rather expensive outfits, hadn't he? But Mekal hit the mark with unexpected sharpness.

"Saying he was a medical student means he's not a medical student now, doesn't it? If he'd become a doctor, he would have said so."

"Ah, right..."

"There are quite a few people who drop out of medical school because they run out of money."

"Mm..."

"Not me, though."

Monica frowned slightly at that remark. Mekal giggled and poked at an ant passing by on the bench where they sat with the tip of his fingernail.

"I was on a full scholarship."

"Ah... I see..."

"You seem to think that's nothing special, but I'll have you know I received the top scholarship at Beril Academy for six consecutive semesters."

"Ah, yes..."

Monica, who had been answering perfunctorily, tilted her head.

"Six semesters?"

"Damn, you noticed that."

What did I notice? Before Monica could speak, Mekal clutched his chest and confessed as if he had no choice.

"Hah, now that it's come to this, I have to tell you. For exactly one semester, some frivolous fellow stole my top scholarship. But the next semester..."

"Doctor!"

Just then, Martinael appeared. Thank goodness, young master. You're my savior right now... Monica inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"How do I look? Do I look like a dashing sailor?"

Martinael, spinning around to show himself, wore a very fine navy suit, but the collar at his neck was a square sailor collar like those worn by seamen.

But that collar that would have looked utterly dignified on sailors somehow looked remarkably adorable on Martinael. Monica's eyes widened as she exclaimed in admiration.

"Oh my. You look very dependable."

If she'd said "adorable" here, there was no telling how this young master's feelings would be hurt. Martinael beamed and grasped Monica's skirt.

"Miss Monica, you look absolutely beautiful too! Is that a new dress?"

Monica instinctively looked down at herself. A walking dress with a base of ivory and fine green stripes woven seamlessly by machine. But it would be more than sufficient to wear to tonight's soirée. She wasn't the star of the party, after all. Monica smiled back at him.

"I received it as a gift."

"From the rattlesnake?"

Mekal interjected bluntly. Martinael's eyes widened.

"Rattle...?"

Monica grasped Martinael's wrist and stood.

"Shall we go, young master! Miss Violet should be arriving soon!"

Then she glared. Mekal grinned and saw them off.

Only then did Monica realize that Mekal must have intended to spend time in Martinael's room until the soirée was in full swing before sending them down.