Chapter 6 Then Let Her Stay
Evelia and Alman quickly turned back from the block. Alman meant to reassure the old butler that Evelia would be convenient for future outings, so this time Alman unusually didn’t bring back any strange items and, as agreed, only returned with some drinks and decent snacks from the Commoner District.
Evelia originally planned to take these ingredients to the kitchen for processing, but seeing the look Alman gave her, she thought it was because the old butler disapproved of what he had bought and that it needed to be “hidden.”
So after hearing Alman say to her, “You’d better go hide in the kitchen, or else the old butler might corner you for questioning. That old guy can be quite naggy,” she obediently headed toward the kitchen. This was also an opportunity for her to scout around; she was eager to find various reasons to observe every detail of the manor and remember it in her mind.
After seeing Evelia leave, Alman took the snacks he had hidden under his clothes and slipped into his office.
Rather than an office, it’s more like a personal study.
In a large room filled with shelves holding various types of books, right in the center facing the door was a wooden desk by the window, and not far away were a pair of black leather sofas for receiving guests. On his desk, he kept a resilient green plant that always looked alive, even if it had perished because he wasn’t particularly fond of raising flowers or plants, lacking the leisure and elegance that such a hobby required.
Although he seldom engaged in clerical work, occasionally he needed to handle some documents, so despite his infrequent visits, he couldn’t go without an office.
If those snacks he bought really were something he had hidden from the old butler, Alman would definitely be caught red-handed, as his old butler Lug, who had long expected him to return at this time, was now standing beside his desk, holding a cup of red tea that was neither hot nor cold, perfectly brewed as he preferred.
“Would you like some?”
Alman pulled out the most convenient and popular cold side dish from the Commoner District, which seemed oddly mismatched with the golden-edged teacup.
“You can eat it yourself. Who else would think of red tea paired with peanuts but you?”
It seemed Lug had already anticipated what Alman was going to do; he pulled out a prepared silver spoon and handed it to him. Alman spread the oil paper and used a similarly embellished spoon to eat the cheap snacks he had bought.
“Anyway, the two kinds of food don’t conflict. Even if they did, my stomach can handle it.”
After all, it’s a stomach that could swallow poison; how could a mere handful of mismatched foods pose a problem?
Of course, overeating would still lead to a stomachache, so even if he ate, he wouldn’t die—he didn’t want to torture himself.
Once, politicians who were at odds with the First Prince considered using poison to kill the young and promising Alman to eliminate a future threat. The chronic poison made from countless herbs almost cost him his life when it manifested. If not for the royal family backing him up, able to produce an antidote by the time the poison took effect, he might have died on that seemingly sunny morning.
However, the royal family also took note of the poison and its antidote formula without hesitation. If necessary, such things could be used again. Alman had also become somewhat “gloriously” a test subject for the royal family, as that poison was so rare in its combination that it was more of an “invention” than just poison. Sometimes, royal doctors would summon him to the palace under the pretense of a health check to observe whether his body would undergo further changes due to the poison.
Moreover, it seemed they had drawn an interesting conclusion: Alm’s body was now nearly immune to all poisons, but the side effect was that he remained in a constant state of poisoning. Although there was a corresponding antidote, so he wouldn’t feel obvious pain, each checkup revealed new internal damage. He could say he wouldn’t die from poisoning, but in the future, he might pass away due to organ failure.
Thus, instead of the earnest struggle of his youth, he now adopted an attitude of “since I’ll certainly meet an untimely death someday, I might as well enjoy life,” what is commonly known—he doesn’t have many days left; better eat something good.
He would engage in whatever he could, eat whatever he wanted, play when he felt like it, and do whatever he liked, without caring about others’ attitudes toward him; after all, the scornful looks and incessant spittle from those people wouldn’t follow him to his grave.
His old butler was the only one, apart from some in the royal family, who knew of this matter. The old man once told him, “Don’t always look so glum; smiling is better than crying.” From that moment on, Alman gradually let it go, thinking of living without a care, at least to face his death calmly when the time came.
However, unfortunately, as a general who had never lost a battle, the faction of the First Prince would not let him go, including the First Prince himself, which made him feel he should indulge even more. After all, if he continued to stay in the Knight Order, he faced the possibility of not just dying from illness but also from battle.
“What about her?”
The old butler watched Alman, who appeared pensive and silent, and cut straight to the point.
After all, this time, Alman took Evelia out, which was a test of this seemingly unusual personal maid.
Although Evelia was an excellent assassin, it was bound to reveal some flaws with her unfamiliar body.
Just from the first glance, Alman had already sensed something different about Evelia; her gaze was sharp, like a hunting dog, similar to how he was in his youth.
Yet he was still pondering whether the maid was an “assassin” or a “spy,” since when they shook hands, he felt no signs of wear on her hands, nor that callused grip that should have accumulated over years of a senior maid’s labor.
“What do you think?” Alman bit into a peanut and returned the question.
“There’s a problem.” The old butler’s complexion showed no change.
“And it’s significant.”
Like a duet, the two exchanged just a few simple phrases that pointedly indicated their target.
“At least it isn’t directly aimed at killing me; otherwise, I would have to come back with some injuries.”
“Is she coming for you?”
“I think so. It seems even this old and weak body of mine still has its value.”
Alman took a sip of red tea, displaying none of the aristocratic etiquette, gulping it down as if quenching his thirst with beer, leaving the bitter taste of the tea in his mouth.
“But what for? Because I’m 26 and still unmarried? That girl’s information says she’s only 18. I have no interest in someone almost ten years younger than me. She can’t possibly be trying to seduce me, right? Sending me a few good bottles of wine would be a better bribe.”
“To be near you, all her personal information must have been well arranged. The data I have on her should no longer be of reference value.”
“Hmm…”
One hand held the teacup for the old butler to pour another cup, while the other habitually drummed on the table with his fingers.
“To become my personal maid, she’s likely a confidante of the Second Prince, probably a tough nut to crack. She’s not top-tier, but still an elite that can’t just be taken down casually.”
Alman lowered his gaze, his clear blue eyes cloaked with a layer of gloom, watching the red tea ripple in his cup with his movements, making his shadow blur in the waves.
“——Let her stay.”
Then he lifted his head, looking toward the window behind the office desk, wanting to gaze outside, but his view was completely obstructed by the precious mahogany chair reserved for him.
“She seems rather interesting, and—keeping her around also gives me a sense of certainty. It’s better than guessing what scheme the Second Prince might be trying to pull.”
“Do you need to handle her?”
“No need. Although she’s a confidante of the Second Prince, she knows too much. Whether the Second Prince’s plans succeed or fail, she’s not going to survive. You’re not unaware of how disposable he is, right?”
“That’s true…”
“Keeping the enemy in plain sight is better than letting her hide in the dark. Besides, I’m a merciful person. Instead of letting her suffer punitive measures at the hands of the Second Prince after a failed mission, I’d rather give her a quick end should the time come.”
“A quick end?” The old butler pursed his lips. “I think the Knight Order’s interrogation methods aren’t much better than that of the Second Prince…”
“Ahem, in any case—my character is already set in stone, and whatever I do won’t raise suspicion. Just continue as usual; after all, you’re better at lying and acting than I am.”
“Understood. Just keep doing as before. You should be cautious; after all, she is pretending to be your most trusted person and will have many opportunities to interact with you.”
“Don’t worry; just continue managing this place as usual. I can handle the rest. After all, she is ‘my’ maid, and I’ll play with her a bit. Just don’t alert the snake.”
Alman stretched lazily, walked around the desk and chair toward the window. He liked to stand in a well-lit place, gazing out at the flowers and trees.
Unfortunately, the sky was right in front of him, but what he could touch was only the precious gold-trimmed window frame.
“Evelia Kroyer…”
He looked at the pink figure hurrying between the knights, holding a plate of pastries, her previously drooped corner of the mouth, weary from smiling, unknowingly lifting again as he murmured her name, recalling how she had trailed behind him, as if trying to see through the back of his head.
That burning sensation still lingered. If he could help it, he wouldn’t want to sync his pace with hers, as he was quite curious about what she could do if he continuously exposed his defenseless back to her.
This time, Alman’s gaze seemed equally intense. Evelia subconsciously lifted her head and looked toward the window of the office where the gaze came from. However, by the time her gaze landed there, Alman’s figure had already disappeared. She paused for a moment in silence, continuing to carry the pastries from the kitchen that were said to be treats for the knights, distributing them to the loyal soldiers of Alman.
Such small tasks were certainly unnecessary for her to undertake; she had taken them upon herself, as to truly understand someone, one must start with the people surrounding them. She didn’t dare to cozy up to the old butler yet, so she could only extract some information from these knights.
Moreover, her sense of crisis was growing stronger. She didn’t understand why the brash and carefree commander of the knight order, who even had to remember her name several times, could give her such an unsettling feeling.
…Indeed, she needed to learn more about him.
Evelia muttered this in her heart, holding the plate of pastries as she walked toward the next group of knights.
