“…Whoa.”

Serun admired.

“Where did you learn swords? Or any other martial art? You just showed me that your reaction time is…”

Ian cut off Serun’s words of pure amazement. He bowed his head lightly and said.

“I’m afraid I’ve offended you, and I apologise, but by any chance, what is the maid’s name?”

“…It’s Belle Allé.”

Isabel said, swallowing dryly. The maids around her were all staring at her with rabbit eyes, but the man in front of her didn’t seem the least bit surprised that Isabel had grabbed the water glass.

Her face flushed hot. Her heart was beating so hard that she could almost feel it pulsing in her cheeks.

‘He knows the original owner of this body.’

From being surprised to see Isabel’s face to deliberately knocking over her glass of water to see her reaction, there was no explanation other than knowing the original owner of this body.

“…I see, I almost made a mistake, but thank you for taking it so graciously. I hope that such a capable maid will assist me at meals as well.”

Ian said, smiling broadly. He meant that he wanted Isabel to assist him at the dinner table as well.

Ellie and the other maids gave her a worried glance. Isabel glanced in their direction and bowed politely. She wasn’t in a position to refuse anyway.

“Yes, sir.”

Now it mattered less whether she had seen Ian before her death than what her relationship was with this body.

Friend or foe, that was the question. An ally would want to know what happened to the body’s original owner, and an enemy would want to kill her or drag her away immediately.

Isabel picked at her thumb nails in impatience. She hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Margarita yet. And already she was in this situation.

‘I knew that whoever was after this body would find me one day, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.’

It was a lost cause. Isabel couldn’t leave the mansion yet. She hadn’t done anything for her daughter yet. Somehow, in some way, she would have to woo him.

She nervously replayed Ian’s behaviour one by one.

‘He wasn’t convinced by my face, he watched my body react, so he doesn’t know exactly what this body looks like, he’s only seen it as a portrait.’

Otherwise, there was no reason to try again after seeing the face.

‘If he’s not sure, maybe I can fool him.’

She had to look like a completely different person somehow. Isabel struggled to shake off the ominous thoughts that were cobwebbing their way into her mind.

***

After the servants finished serving the refreshments, they left so that Ian and Serun could rest. After drinking their tea in silence in the presence of the maids, they began to talk.

It was Serun who spoke first.

“Sir Ian, what was wrong with you earlier? You didn’t seem like yourself.”

“Shh.”

Ian silenced Serun, then stood up and closed all the windows. Only when he had completely blocked any gaps for sound to escape did he speak in a quiet voice.

“Did you see the maid who poured water into my glass earlier?”

“What? Oh, yes, I did see her. Brown hair, green eyes…”

“Brown hair, green eyes. Doesn’t that remind you of anything?”

“Oh!”

Serun exclaimed, and Ian nodded, motioning for him to lower his voice.

It was the brown hair and green eyes of the Eileen Nova they were trying to contact.

“Is that Eileen Nova?”

“Not everyone with brown hair and green eyes is Eileen Nova.”

“But Sir Ian thinks she is Eileen Nova, doesn’t he?”

Serun looked at him in frustration.

“Did I seem to?”

“Yes… Can’t you just tell me why?”

“Think about it a little longer.”

Serun let out a small squeal, then put his head in his hands and began to think.

It was pitiful to watch him struggle, but he should be able to see right through this. Despite his behaviour, Serun was already eighteen.

“Uh… is it because of the name…?”

Serun said in a creeping voice after a while.

“I can’t hear you very well.”

“The name, it’s the name, isn’t it, Belle Allé!”

Ian nodded, and Serun squealed with delight. Ian continued to explain.

“Before my mother’s marriage, her surname was Allé. Whenever she creats a fake identity, she sometimes borrowed the identity of a distant acquaintance to use.”

“But doesn’t that mean that if she was caught with a fake identity, Sir Ian’s mother would be caught too?”

“That might be the case, but no one could ever accuse Countess Repellus of anything less than that, and besides, the name ‘Belle Allé’ was specifically created amongst the counterfeit identities.”

“Specifically?”

“Yes. It’s the name of an aristocrat, after all. It’s a name I made for her to use when she needs a noble identity.”

Hearing that, Serun tilted his head.

“Hmm, that’s odd. But wasn’t she a maid earlier?”

“She was.”

Ian didn’t understand that either.

Why would she be working as a maid with a fake identity given to her to use as a noble? Moreover, if she was still in the capital, why hadn’t she left a note at the rendezvous point?

A subtle smirk tugged at Ian’s face. Serun noticed the change in his expression and asked cautiously.

“Um, are we supposed to be suspicious of Eileen Nova right now?”

Ian raised his gaze and stared at him wordlessly. It was a silence of affirmation.

In fact, Ian had never actually met Eileen Nova face-to-face, having only been briefed in writing.

‘You could put someone who looked like Eileen Nova in front of me and I wouldn’t recognise her.’

He had to prepare himself for the possibility that the maid he saw today was someone else impersonating Eileen Nova. In the worst case scenario, he might have to use rougher means to find out from her where the original Eileen Nova was.

Ian thought of the woman he’d just seen, the one he assumed to be Eileen. She was pale and thin, and as soon as her eyes met Ian’s, she looked away in horror.

‘If you knew me, you’d know better than to come out of the woodwork.’

Ian let out a series of small breaths.

Things were taking a strange turn. Rolling the cooled tea in his teacup, he carefully released the handle and crossed his fingers.

“For now, I’ll look into it some more at the dinner party.”

“…Will there be any blood?”

Serun asked, not bothering to hide his shaky eyes. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t killed people in his time following Ian, but he’d never targeted anyone who wasn’t a soldier or knight.

“Sir Ian?”

Serun called again. Anxiety burned like wildfire in his eyes.

Ian saw it and gave a small sigh. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand Serun’s anxiety, but it was complacent to expect a peaceful resolution just because the other side seemed weaker.

On the battlefield, it was always the ones you thought were the weakest who did the most damage. Sometimes it’s women, sometimes it’s the elderly, sometimes it’s the wounded, and sometimes it’s children.

So you can’t let your guard down. But…

“I hope not. I really do.”

Ian muttered quietly.

***

The state dinner was set in the manor’s largest hall.

Isabel, who had entered the room as a personal maid at Ian’s request, stood in the corner, breathless.

Ian had not yet arrived at the dinner table.

As each new guest walked through the door, Isabel checked their faces and then bowed her head.

She flinched at the slightest sign of the door moving.

‘This is the best I can do.’

She clasped her hands together to steady her rising anxiety.

She grabbed a knife from her rucksack and tucked it into her inside pocket. She even changed her make-up to look as different as possible.

She even asked Ellie for a little help.

It was a small request to ‘make her look like a familiar acquaintance.’

It was enough to make her look like someone who had been in the capital the whole time and avoid suspicion.

Ellie, who was standing nearby, approached and whispered.

“Baroness Charlotte Mirabel, from the Duke of Mirabel’s side, is coming today. And so is the Marchioness of Spierre, Belle.”

“A lot of high-ranking people come here. Ellie has a lot of experience, so you won’t make mistakes, right?”

“High ranking… Experience…”

Ellie mumbled, then sighed heavily.

“Yes… I should be good. Isn’t Belle nervous?”

“I am nervous.”

“You don’t look like it…”

Ellie gave her an admiring glance.

Isabel gave a small shake of her head, embarrassed. It was the first thing she’d learnt in decades of serving aristocrats: hiding your nerves.

Tighten your temples to keep your eyebrows from furrowing, and pull the corners of your mouth up into a faint smile. As long as she keeps her facial expressions straight, she could be a little agitated or nervous and not give it away.

It had never been particularly helpful, but she was glad she’d been practising it, because today she’d be able to play it cool no matter what Ian did.

“Count Ian Repellus, and Sir Serun Viktor, please enter.”

Ian, dressed in a black uniform, entered the room, accompanied by Serun.

Isabel straightened her posture as Ian exchanged pleasantries with Margarita, who was standing at the entrance, and stepped inside.

Isabel bowed her head and clasped her hands as he entered.

‘I must not be seen. I mustn’t let him see me nervous.’

For now, she had to remain by her daughter’s side in this mansion.

Isabel moved to stand behind Ian, who was now seated.

Soon the door was fully closed, and the Count of Grey, seated at the head table, rose to his feet.

“My dear guests, may you all eat, drink, and be merry. Ha ha!”

With that somewhat offensive greeting, Count Grey burst into loud laughter.

It was the start of the dinner.

“Have you seen Kaen’s latest creation? I was impressed by the bold colours.”

“I found the excessive red colour to be vulgar. Perhaps my artistic skills are lacking.”

“Artistic tastes change quickly.”

On the left side of the table, a conversation about art was in full swing, led by the Marchioness of Spierre. As befits a former socialite, she was steering the conversation to topics that were easy to discuss at this early stage of the meeting.

Meanwhile, on the right side of the table, the mood was tense.

“You should have pushed for the Poor Relief Bill back then. Do you know what the crime rate is in the capital these days? Fifty-three per cent! Its fifty-three per cent!”

Charlotte said, raising her voice. He was already drunk and flushed.

“Isn’t it because there are beggars roaming the streets… that the capital is becoming such a shithole, eh, officer? Didn’t you vote against it in Parliament back then?”

He was referring to Ian, who had voted against it.

“Answer me, eh?”

When Ian didn’t answer, Charlotte poured a giant goblet of wine into his glass. The wine overflowed and soaked the tablecloth. Ian, who had been watching it without interfering with it, smiled and asked.

His voice was much lower in pitch than his smiling face.

“Do you know what the Poor Relief Bill is exactly?”

“Of course I do. It’s a good law that rounds up all the filthy beggars and puts them in the workhouse!”

“You know it well, Baroness Charlotte. And I thought you were saying that because you didn’t know any better.”

Hearing Ian’s gentle words, Charlotte chuckled. She was too drunk to realise that Ian was making fun of her.

“Shall we make a toast, Baroness?”

Ian raised his full wine glass.

“Here, to your superior knowledge.”

Charlotte unceremoniously raised her glass. Ian clinked his glass hard against hers.

Wine splashed out of Ian’s glass and into Charlotte’s eyes.

“Ouch!”

“Ah! This.”

“Ouch… My eye…!”

“What can I do, are you okay?”

Looking at Charlotte, who groaned with her eyes closed, Ian, still smiling with a wry smile, beckoned to the maid.

“I think the Baroness could use some rest.”

The maid, who had been watching Charlotte and Ian with uneasy eyes, decided it was time to help her to her feet.

Impatiently, Charlotte rubbed her eyes with the napkin in her lap. Everyone turned away in disgust when they saw her wiping her face with a food-stained napkin.

“Hmm.”

Even Serun, who was just learning the ‘ugh’ sound of manners, quickly turned away.

The maid quickly helped Charlotte up and out of the dining room. The table was once again at peace. But Isabel, waiting behind Ian, was not so pleased.

Now that Charlotte was out of Ian’s sight, he was sure to turn his attention to her.