TMIAP Chapter 27

In any case, Monica hadn't forgotten that her companion was the son of a distinguished family. She chose her words carefully, determined to maintain proper courtesy.

But the man read the insolence in her eyes and answered before she could ask her question.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not insane."

"Do you read minds, by any chance?"

In any case, it was obvious this was an uncomfortable situation for Monica.

So she asked with what she hoped was lightness, trying to ease the tension. But Enrique replied without a trace of amusement.

"I'm not desperate enough to stoop to that sort of fraud."

"Ah, I see..."

Silence fell. Enrique hesitated again, but soon seemed to steel himself and spoke once more.

"This may be disconcerting, but I'm quite desperate. Desperate enough to reveal my secret based solely on the possibility that you might write to other nurses you know, who might be able to help me."

Monica was indeed disconcerted.

She hadn't expected such frank honesty from a man with that arrogant face. And a secret, no less. Her curiosity stirred suddenly. The man continued.

"But revealing that secret is quite humiliating for me. So before I expose my condition honestly, I'll ask again. Are you willing to help me?"

Monica wavered before answering.

"Manufacturing the 'green medicine' is prohibited in the kingdom..."

"I know. That's why you're so reluctant, isn't it?"

Enrique nodded lightly. His manner was so remarkably casual that Monica felt a flare of indignation despite herself.

'You know I'm reluctant but you're asking anyway? So if a commoner like me helps you wrongly and gets caught by investigators and thrown in prison, that's not your concern?'

But as if reading Monica's thoughts, the man immediately made an offer.

"If you provide me meaningful assistance, I'll give you whatever you want. Money, or anything else."

"...Money isn't necessary. I'm receiving a salary at this household that I—someone in my position as governess—could never have imagined."

She'd originally meant to say only "could never have imagined," but Monica corrected herself.

Five hundred shing a week. It was a dreamlike sum to her, but probably not particularly impressive to the nobleman before her. Yet Enrique raised his thick eyebrows.

"I said money or anything else."

"...Meaning..."

"For example, let's see."

The man crossed his arms. It was an arrogant gesture that seemed to say, 'Do you really think you can refuse me?' The moment Monica saw that movement, she made up her mind instantly—despite the fact that Enrique hadn't said a word yet.

'How insufferable!'

She wouldn't listen to anything a man who crossed his arms like that had to say.

"How about a letter of recommendation for admission to Beryl Academy?"

Monica nearly fell to her knees. Figuratively speaking, of course. She barely managed to keep her mouth from dropping open.

The man's blue eyes watched as Monica staggered, braced herself against a nearby tree, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and finally muttered "You're insane..." before catching herself with a start and snapping her mouth shut again, glancing at him nervously.

"Be—Berry—Beryl Academy."

Damn it! Monica wanted to kick the tree beside her. She'd tried not to stammer, but that effort went to waste.

But she couldn't help it. Beryl Academy!

Beryl Academy. It had taken less than a century for that small university created by seekers of knowledge to become a great academy renowned across the continent.

The level of education was so high that kingdoms and nobles competed to sponsor it, hoping to recruit its graduates, and naturally the educational standards kept rising.

Admission required passing various examinations, but not just anyone could take those exams.

You needed a resume related to your intended field of study, and you also needed a letter of recommendation from either a Beryl graduate or a family that sponsored the university.

In short, it was a place commoners couldn't even dream of. But he was offering to write that letter of recommendation?

Monica's heart suddenly swelled with hope.

'Beryl Academy! I could take the Beryl Academy entrance exam.'

Just having taken Beryl's exam became a credential in itself.

People who sat for Beryl's exams made substantial money that year, even if they failed. Nobles hoping to send their children to Beryl paid handsomely for information about the examination.

And that wasn't all. With that money, even if you didn't get into Beryl, you could attend another university. A good university—not some bombed-out women's college...

"I asked Miss Liella about you. She mentioned you'd worked as a nurse to attend a women's college."

Monica felt as if the man had doused her with cold water. Her mood plummeted with remarkable speed.

But it wasn't the man's fault. Monica lowered her head and composed herself. The man's eyebrows twitched with slight surprise at her sudden calm, but he didn't stop speaking.

"I don't know what you want to study at university, but House Solivén has been sponsoring Beryl Academy since its founding. With our family's letter of recommendation, university admission shouldn't be difficult."

Of course. Such sweet offers never came freely. Monica laughed bitterly to herself.

'Lizzie, Lizzie Orphen. What an unfair world this is.'

I had to swear to you that I'd never speak of your past, but you could casually tell a strange man about mine. Yes, that's right.

Liella had been ashamed of being an orphan.

So Monica had vaguely assumed she likewise wouldn't mention that Monica had been an orphan.

No, actually she'd never even thought about it.

Why would she? Everyone would be interested that the young lady of House Mollette had been an orphan, but the fact that Monica Orphen came from an orphanage was nothing special.

So Liella had no reason or motivation to mention it anywhere.

But here, someone had appeared who asked about Monica's background. And Liella had told him so easily—that Monica had grown up in an orphanage and therefore wanted to attend a women's college.

To Monica's surprise, she felt humiliation she'd thought she'd already experienced in full. Orphen. She hated even her own surname, didn't she?

...But that wasn't the man's fault.

"...I don't know what help I could possibly provide, yet you're offering such extraordinary terms right away."

So Monica spoke carefully.

A look of puzzlement crossed Enrique's face as the woman who'd been excited by mention of Beryl Academy now showed suspicion quite different from before. But Enrique maintained his posture, arms still crossed.

"That's why I said 'meaningful assistance.'"

"With the meaningfulness determined by you, Mr. Enrique."

"Isn't that obvious?"

It was too obvious to even merit a snort. Monica's mind worked rapidly.

She wanted to reject the man's proposal, Beryl Academy or not. But Monica wasn't that much of a fool.

Monica didn't want to endure this kind of humiliation anymore.

How could she avoid it?

She had to succeed. Somehow.

At the very least, she wanted to escape quickly from being ordered about by Lizzie Orphen, that damned girl.

Monica looked at the man before her. An undeniably magnificent lifeline hung before her—so certain it was almost suspicious.

"What if I can manufacture the 'green medicine'?"

"Then there'd be no need to judge meaningfulness."

She'd deliberated at length, but Enrique answered swiftly, as if he'd known all along she'd say that.

Monica felt oddly pleased.

"Is this actually an offer I can refuse?"

"Miss Monica Orphen."

The man called her name clearly and firmly.

"I have many methods that are far more violent and easier—ways you wouldn't dare refuse—that wouldn't require me to endure social criticism."

It was a thoroughly frightening and realistic statement. But somehow it made Monica feel even more amused.

"Fine. I'll decide after hearing your condition."

It was what doctors commonly said. 'I'll have to see the patient's condition before deciding.' She'd never imagined she'd be saying it herself in a place like this.

The man frowned, but he seemed unwilling to contradict his own words about needing honesty if he wanted help. Though his expression showed reluctance, he finally spoke, arms still crossed.

"Luis Berfeil, Garcia. All of them are my names."

"You expected me to say 'I knew it!'?"

Monica shot back pleasantly.

"I already know. Continue."

The man's handsome face twisted slightly.

Monica had to struggle mightily not to be sarcastic to that beautiful face.

'Did the war wound give you a habit of lying? Or did you become an aspiring actor? Or do you want to heal your emotional scars through love, but you're pretending because you're afraid women will throw themselves at you if they discover you're from such a distinguished family?'

'Either way, distinguished family or not, it seems pretty clear you're a damn drug addict...' Those were the sneers she suppressed.

But Enrique Solivén was a man who kept his word about being honest.

He opened his mouth to continue despite Monica's impertinent attitude, and Monica prepared herself to mock whatever words fell from his lips.

"But I don't remember any of it."

"I knew it! ...Wait, what?"

Enrique's words deviated from her expected response. Thanks to that, Monica had to babble incoherently before the man's bizarrely frowning face, fumbling her words.

Well then—one must hear a patient's condition through to the end.