“You really don’t get what I mean?”Marc asked, glancing at Bachary through the rearview mirror. The butler looked visibly startled, even a little scared. Of course, Marc knew the man beside him was trying to hide something.“Bachary, do you really think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours? I confided a huge secret in you, and now you’re trying to keep something from me? Since when did you start playing so unfairly?”Marc’s voice was firm but laced with playful sarcasm. A sly smirk tugged at his lips.“Come on, just tell me. No need to keep it under wraps. You know something about that old man, don’t you?”Bachary stayed silent for a moment, then exhaled deeply—several times.There was no point in hiding anything from someone as sharp as Marc. No matter how carefully he tried to cover it up, the master healer would eventually sniff it out.“Alright, I’ll tell you,” Bachary said at last, his voice subdued.“But please… this stays between us, okay? You don’t mind, do you,

The head butler immediately stood tall and composed before the baron."Have you checked her identity?""I have, my lord. As far as I can tell, there was nothing suspicious about the identification she presented. Everything appears to be authentic."Lyman wasn’t just answering the baron’s question. The old man knew full well that his lord was fishing for deeper insight."I can confirm that the woman truly is an emissary from Lord Castellan."In the noble traditions of Walenstein—and in fact, among all noble houses throughout the kingdom of Lanshire—the person delivering a letter was considered just as important as the letter itself. No one could rule out the possibility of malicious actors posing as messengers under the name of a noble family, even if that family hadn’t sent a letter at all.To guard against such risks, every noble family in Lanshire—from barons to dukes—used a secret seal on the identification card carried by their couriers. This seal was known only among fellow noble

Darla couldn’t hold back her tears as the words slipped from her lips.Just as she’d said—if Marc, a noble of higher rank than them all, had made a decision, didn’t that mean they were expected to obey it, even if it went against everything they wanted?Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes cast down to the floor.Especially Annette, who could only hold her daughter tightly as she sobbed in her arms. All she could do was take a deep, trembling breath. Her mind was in turmoil—torn between finding a way to protect her daughter and figuring out how to reject Marc’s proposal without putting the family at risk of openly defying him.For several long minutes, the only sounds in the fifteen-by-fifteen-meter chamber were soft sobs and heavy sighs."Don't worry, sweetheart, don't worry," Annette whispered gently into Darla's ear, even though she had no solution yet for the painful dilemma that weighed on them."I'm sure we'll find a way through this.""Your mother’s right, sweetheart,"

Thomas wore a wide smile as he stepped out the door, Annette right beside him mirroring his expression.They had just spoken confidently in front of Darla, but deep down, both were filled with anxiety and fear. The cheerful act was merely a facade—to keep their daughter’s heart from crumbling.In truth, they were terrified that Marc might reject the proposal. Worse, he might even punish them for daring to bring it up. But that didn’t matter to them. As long as there was even the slightest chance to save their daughter from that vile nobleman Godfrey, they would do whatever it took.Their steps were firm and quick, but Darla trailed behind them hesitantly, her gaze often lowered. It was a stark contrast to her usual confident self—so unfamiliar it almost felt like she was someone else.Something about the thought of facing Marc and bringing up the proposal made her heart feel like a storm was raging inside it.They walked through the sprawling backyard, lush with vibrant flowers of eve

The two men seemed to have forgotten one crucial thing—Darla was not the kind of girl who gave up easily.When her messages went unanswered, she did something she’d never done before—not with any of her staff, not even her butler. She made a phone call. To her, that had always felt improper.Ding-dong! Ding-dong!Bachary’s phone buzzed again.But this time, it wasn’t a message notification. It was a call. From Darla.“Oh no... Lady Darla is calling?”His heart nearly stopped. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead.Not once had Lady Darla ever called him directly. He knew he had to answer—refusing the call would only make him look guiltier.But then it hit him—he couldn’t tell her the truth. And that thought twisted his stomach in knots.“What do I do now?” he panicked.If he picked up, Darla would no doubt bombard him with questions, and he wouldn’t be able to keep lying. But ignoring the call would be downright disrespectful.As he scrambled for a solution, the call ended.Huuuuhh