TMIAP Chapter 30

Monica protested:

"That's absurd. The 'green medicine' only intensifies the side effects."

Enrique shook his head.

He'd once thought that too. There was a reason the kingdom had banned the circulation of that drug.

But after some deliberation, Andrei spread out the newspaper articles Enrique had already thoroughly examined.

And he visited the families of those who had committed murder or arson.

After doing that three times, the proud secretary got his hands on the drug. He collected what remained in the houses. Quite a few gold coins and several slaps were paid in exchange.

Though he felt reluctant to take medicine banned by the kingdom, there seemed no other solution. Enrique swallowed the medicine and cautioned Andrei:

'If I try to set a fire, slap my face.'

'What an opportunity I've been waiting for. The bereaved families always wished you'd been there when they slapped me.'

Andrei smiled brightly. Enrique thought it fortunate if his new secretary, suffering because of his madness, could relieve stress by giving appropriately impertinent answers, so he said nothing.

Before long, he swallowed his curses and lay down. And he slept like the dead.

It was his first sound sleep in three years since returning from the battlefield.

When Enrique woke the next morning, he thought he'd experienced a miracle.

After the war, he'd always fallen asleep after days of insomnia, and then Luis and Garcia would invariably appear and roam about for as many days as Enrique had been unable to sleep.

But that medicine made Enrique fall asleep the moment he lay in bed. Luis and Garcia didn't appear.

"I've never even heard of such a thing. I've seen it used to put wounded soldiers to sleep, but..."

"If it were common enough for you to have heard of it, I would have known already."

Enrique let out a cynical laugh.

"Do you understand? I need that medicine."

"...But prolonged use can't be good."

Monica hesitated. Enrique shook his head.

"I won't need it for long. Until this autumn will do."

"Until this autumn means..."

She understood immediately what Enrique was saying. Autumn. Enrique sneered with a weary face.

"Just until the wedding."

"But that's!"

"I know it's deception."

The man cut off Monica's words. Enrique was the only son of the Solivén family, and he had to repay the family's war reparations through marriage.

So until he could marry was sufficient. This autumn would be enough to hold a wedding.

"That's how aristocratic marriages are. The other party only needs my family's name anyway."

But, but... Monica murmured.

"...You didn't seem like that kind of person."

Enrique raised an eyebrow. Because he hadn't shown himself enough for a woman he'd barely met to say such things.

However, Enrique soon caught Monica's meaning.

'Miss Mollette, you're telling me to sell myself to you like merchandise.'

Those were the words Enrique Solivén had said to Liella Mollette.

You spoke as if you despised Liella, yet now you're talking about marriage that way? Monica's eyes clearly conveyed that meaning.

Enrique looked at the woman silently.

The back garden of the Mollette estate was filled with entirely green ripples bathed in afternoon sunlight.

Standing in the midst of it, those sparkling green eyes shone with innocent contempt among the dazzling verdure.

Somehow, Enrique thought that look was truly appropriate for himself right now. He smiled coldly. It was cynicism directed at himself.

"Because I see myself."

Monica lost her words for a moment.

And only after a long while did she nod. It meant she would comply with Enrique's request.

Enrique smiled with satisfaction.

He'd gotten what he wanted, but it wasn't a smile that could be called relieved.

Even while caring for Martinael all that afternoon, Monica spent the time somehow dazed. It continued, of course, after lying in bed that evening, and even after waking the next morning.

She kept missing with her spoon while ladling stew, to the point where a passing maid laughed, saying, "Monica, is something wrong?"

At lunch she went for a walk with Martinael and ate in the garden, but food went into her mouth without her knowing whether it entered her mouth or her nose. Only when even Martinael reached the point of worrying about Monica did she come to her senses.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, young master. I couldn't sleep yesterday, so my mind feels foggy..."

Martinael stroked Monica's forehead with his small hand as if feeling sorry for her.

"My sister is like that sometimes too. Should I ask her to bring you some medicine? If you take it, you'll be able to sleep soundly."

Monica smiled. It wouldn't do to make even this child worry.

"No. Since I didn't sleep yesterday, I'll be able to sleep tonight."

Besides, she couldn't borrow medicine from Liella. She remembered Liella hovering nearby since yesterday, watching for a chance to talk with her. She seemed terribly curious about what on earth she'd discussed with Enrique Solivén.

But coincidence piled upon coincidence, and Liella simply couldn't find a moment to speak with Monica alone.

Until just a while ago, she'd been pretending to cut roses in the garden far off while watching this way intently, but she seemed to have gone inside because the sunlight was too harsh.

Monica adjusted her straw hat and snickered.

'I was dazed after hearing such tremendous news... but at least that's amusing.'

Her anxiety was obvious. What must Monica, who'd overheard that secret conversation that day, be thinking?

Since Enrique Solivén had asked Liella about Monica, suspicions would only grow.

However, Monica felt inclined to deliberately avoid Liella and provoke her.

Hadn't Liella also arbitrarily let slip to Enrique that Monica was an orphan?

Of course, there was no law against an employer discussing an employee with others.

That was how people of high station were.

Lower people were always the ones who had to watch their words. Liella, speaking about Monica who was no different from a maid, wouldn't have thought she needed to be careful.

Monica understood that intellectually too.

Moreover, since Liella had previously proposed to Enrique first, she couldn't have refused if Enrique had deliberately pressed her for information.

But understanding and feeling pleased about it were different matters.

"You know, young Master Martinael."

Monica asked Martinael, who was playing with flower petals, casually:

"Then is Miss Liella's marriage to the young lord of the Solivén family already decided?"

"Well, it's probably not set in stone. Why?"

"Everyone spoke as if they were engaged, so I thought so, but at the ball it didn't seem that way."

"Ah, right. If they were engaged, he would have danced only with my sister, wouldn't he? But they're practically as good as engaged. Our sister has the largest dowry."

Martinael answered in a matter-of-fact tone. Monica was a little taken aback. Even a ten-year-old spoke this way.

But thinking about it, Martinael was also a nobleman. If he was accustomed to their marriage culture, which was far closer to commerce than romance, it seemed a matter he could naturally discuss.

"Our mother is confident too. Among the young ladies in La Spezia with large dowries, our sister is the prettiest."

Well, Lord Solivén says he dislikes her because she reminds him of himself. Monica felt like sneering that.

But naturally she had enough discretion not to bring up those words in front of innocent Martinael. Instead, Monica smiled quietly.

"I see. Lord Solivén seemed to think so too."

"Huh? That's right. You two were together that day, weren't you?"

"Yes. And I saw him once more a few days later."

"Wow! Lord Solivén praised my sister!"

The innocent, kind boy clenched his fist happily and wanted to run to his sister right away. Monica held Martinael's hand and admonished him that running wasn't good for his health.

"If you go tell her when we have snacks later, your sister will be happy."

Saying that, Monica asked Martinael to pick the fleabane blooming below his knees.

Martinael gladly picked the flower and handed it to Monica. Monica bowed her knees respectfully to Martinael in greeting. The boy giggled and was pleased.

The boy, always treated as weak and young among adults, was most delighted when Monica treated him like a gentleman.

That night, Liella finally ended up pounding on Monica's door.

"Monica Orphen!"

But Monica had already anticipated Liella's visit and had turned off the lights and lain down early.

Monica held her breath under the covers and giggled quietly. Her nasty mischief had hit the mark.

Having heard from Martinael about Enrique Solivén's praise, Liella would have no choice but to doubt those words, even if they were praise, as long as they came from Monica.

And she'd go mad with curiosity.

But she couldn't interrogate in front of others whether it was genuine. The proof was that she hadn't brought a single maid with her.

After whispering Monica's name several times as if afraid of waking Martinael in the next room, Liella finally grew tired and left.

Monica laughed hard, and at the end, cried a little. Then she spat out:

"What a rotten little b*tch."

It was unclear whether she meant herself or Liella.

But that night she slept deeply. Probably because she'd tossed and turned the night before, as she'd told Martinael.

And she dreamed.

A dream where the secretary of Solivén, whose face she didn't know, greeted her—meaning she no longer had to knock on the doors of disaster victims' families.

A dream of becoming the top entering student at Beril Academy. And, and...