MLS Chapter 19

The next day, Lorena woke abruptly to a light touch shaking her shoulder. Her tilted vision was filled with the sight of Hena, her face tense with concern.

Slowly, Lorena sat up from the sofa where she had fallen asleep leaning to one side.

“…I told you, you don’t have to do maid duties anymore.”

Her voice was hoarse from the early morning. Hena hesitated briefly before gathering Lorena’s disheveled hair and tying it neatly into a single bundle.

“It’s dull not doing anything. I promise I won’t leave the residence, and I won’t contact anyone from the Levantes household.”

She added the words almost defensively.

“I’ve served you for seven years, Señora. It’s like a habit for me. For the time I have left… would that be okay?”

When Lorena stood, she paused briefly, overcome with dizziness. Hena naturally supported her. Lorena glanced at her maid, who was immaculately dressed in her uniform.

“…Do you really want to serve a mistress who holds your family’s life in her hands?”

“Exactly, Señora.”

“There are plenty of noble estates in Melta, with their share of summer villas. I’ll write you a recommendation for a good place. Go.”

“In a month. Just one month, please.”

“…”

“What would you like for breakfast? You’ve been skipping meals again. That’s not good for you.”

Lorena remained silent, saying nothing. The familiar, warm hands fixing her hair and straightening her clothes made her feel strangely at ease. Her sleep-deprived mind slipped into a fleeting drowsiness again.

Gentle care, unconditional kindness—these were what Lorena had longed for most during the half-year she had been confined in Soto.

“Señora, shall I prepare something simple? Toast and tea, perhaps? What do you think?”

“…”

After a moment of contemplation, Lorena murmured something. It was in Ingerdian, unintelligible to Hena.

「Do as you like. Foolish girl…」

* * *

A new week brought renewed energy to the bustling city center.

Between the Klein Residence and the bank lay Elaudimo Square, famed for its magnificent fountain—the largest in Bessen. The Dolphin Fountain, with its seven streams of water shooting in different directions, served as the centerpiece, surrounded by a variety of shops and amenities.

Taking the same path as the day before, Lorena rounded the fountain on her way to Klein Bank. On the opposite street leading to St. Vergos Cathedral, she spotted a familiar figure.

The golden-brown hair, slightly brushing the nape of his neck, stood out even in a crowd. His towering height—at least a head above the average passerby—made him unmistakable.

‘The Marquis of Ervatos…’

She recalled seeing his name mentioned in the second page of the morning paper.

“Motrel’s prodigal son: Why is he attending morning mass at St. Vergos Cathedral every day?”

It was nearing noon. The Marquis appeared to have come down to the city center after attending the morning mass.

‘He claims there’s no God, yet he acts devout.’

Or perhaps he simply enjoyed eavesdropping on the confessions of unsuspecting citizens in the confessional?

Yet judging by the occasional remarks he let slip, it was clear he wasn’t the type to take a keen interest in others. Hadn’t he grumbled often enough that meddling wasn’t to his taste?

Lorena found herself unable to take her eyes off the man’s golden-brown hair. That soft, flowing hair was said to be known by everyone born and raised in Bessen.

The people’s beloved princess, Adriana. Even twenty-five years after her death, the youngest royal princess remained one of the most talked-about figures in Bessen. This man was her only surviving descendant.

‘Miguel Ervatos Reyes de Pereira.’

That was his name.

‘He’s so tempting…’

Lorena’s mysterious benefactor had truly been extraordinary. She couldn’t help but click her tongue in frustration.

How could he possess everything she needed?

For a fleeting moment, Lorena imagined approaching him and revealing her identity as the woman from the confessional. But the words she had uttered during her confession came rushing back to her.

<Father, I took my own life.>

<I want my husband to be destroyed.>

<I will utterly ruin him. With my own hands.>

‘No, absolutely not.’

Lorena slapped her cheeks lightly with both hands, snapping herself out of her thoughts. With everything she had said, she’d be lucky if he didn’t think of her as a deranged woman.

Since visiting the confessional the day before Vaye’s return, Lorena had deliberately avoided even glancing in the direction of the cathedral. Yet, her efforts seemed in vain, as the Marquis’s name continued to surface in unexpected places.

His destination was a large jewelry store near the square—a familiar establishment to Lorena. The store dealt in high-value pieces, and many of her own jewels had been purchased or crafted there, including…

‘Her wedding ring.’

“…What?”

Through the jewelry store’s glass window, something sparkling caught her eye. The Marquis was pulling something out of a velvet pouch tied with a silk string.

Her wedding ring.

Why was it… there?

Lorena rubbed her eyes instinctively, but the strange scene before her didn’t change.

“…!”

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Lorena nearly screamed. Her wedding ring! The very ring she had left behind at the cathedral was now in the Marquis of Ervatos’s hands.

Even from a distance, she could recognize that unmistakable brilliance. It had been on her left ring finger for seven years—how could she not?

‘How did he get his hands on that?’

Her wedding ring was no ordinary piece. It was an exceptional heirloom, bought as a one-of-a-kind marital gift for the heir of the wealthiest family in the country. Anyone with even a passing interest in jewelry could instantly identify its provenance.

That’s why Lorena had deliberately donated it to the cathedral. Pious, well-mannered priests were the least likely to spread rumors about a discarded ring. But now, this!

In a panic, Lorena pushed open the jewelry store door. The shopkeeper, examining the ring the Marquis had presented, looked up and was startled to see her.

“Oh, Duchess?”

For once, Lorena couldn’t correct that unwelcome title. Under the Marquis’s watchful gaze, she was too stunned to utter a word.

The man standing by the display case tilted his head slightly, studying her.

“Ah, you’re that woman from before.”

He murmured to himself, but Lorena’s heart began pounding wildly.

“The cathedral?”

For a moment, she thought he had recognized her.

In the confessional, they had never seen each other’s faces. The only thing he knew about her was her voice.

“No?”

When Lorena remained stiff and unresponsive, Miguel Ervatos tilted his head further, his reddish-brown eyes narrowing with suspicion.

She bit her lower lip to keep herself from speaking, inadvertently pursing her lips into a tight line that made her unwillingness to answer clear.

The Marquis let out a soft, deflated laugh.

“Weekends bring crowds. Be careful not to trip.”

Ah. Lorena swallowed a shaky breath.

Then it clicked. On the day she visited the cathedral, he had helped her when she was jostled and nearly fell in the crowd. He must have seen her face then.

Lorena raised her lips in a polite smile, tugging the brim of her hat low. Her features were as widely recognized in Bessen as the Marquis’s, and anyone who saw her would immediately identify her as the Duchess of Levantes.

Especially now, given her recent notoriety as the “Duchess who stabbed her husband.”

But the Marquis seemed indifferent to who she was. He turned his attention back to the shopkeeper without hesitation.

“So? Continue.”

“Pardon?”

“You were saying, ‘If there’s any noble who might have commissioned such a ring…’ Weren’t you?”

The jeweler glanced nervously at Lorena. There weren’t many noblewomen in Bessen who could own a wedding ring adorned with such premium diamonds. And one of those rare women was standing right there.

‘Don’t say anything, please!’

Lorena, forgetting all decorum, shook her head frantically. The elderly jeweler hesitated, caught between the Marquis’s pressing question and Lorena’s desperate plea.

“Does nothing come to mind? A piece like this seems too unique to forget,” the Marquis pressed impatiently.

“Ah… well, you see, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Getting old and all…”

Thankfully, the jeweler was quick-witted. He picked up on Lorena’s silent desperation and played along.

“I do have sketches of every piece I’ve worked on, though. If I compare them, I might be able to jog my memory. But, ah, I think I left those sketches at home…”

“Then leave it here, and I’ll let you look into it.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll keep this valuable piece safe for you.”

“Please do.”

The Marquis handed the ring over to the jeweler, turned without another word, and left the store. Lorena, still frozen in place, stared at the door long after he had gone.

The tension in Lorena’s shoulders eased as they slowly dropped. She made a mental note to reward the jeweler for helping her avoid a potential disaster—perhaps even retrieve the ring from him. This time, she would make sure no one could find it by tossing it into the river.

Though the jeweler had pulled her out of trouble, he seemed to find the situation mildly amusing. Carefully placing the ring into a box with his gloved hands, he probed the Marquis with a casual question.

“By the way, where did you come across such a ring? It appears to be a wedding band.”

“I bought it.”

‘Bought it?’

Lorena’s mind reeled. She had left the ring in the donation box at St. Vergos Cathedral. Could he have stumbled upon it by chance? But why would someone like him take a donation item for himself?

Feigning interest in a display of sapphires, Lorena pricked up her ears, trying to catch more of their conversation.

The mystery was quickly unraveled when the Marquis spoke again, his rich baritone catching her attention.

“I’m playing a game of hide-and-seek these days. And I’m the seeker.”

The tone was identical to the one he had used in the confessional, on that unforgettable day.

Lorena’s heart skipped a beat. Thankfully, she was well-practiced in keeping her emotions hidden. As she gestured to an employee to take out the sapphire for her, all her focus remained on the conversation beside her.

“Or maybe not. It seems the other party isn’t even trying to hide. So perhaps… a game of detective instead?”

His words felt like they were aimed directly at her, sending a chill down her spine. The jeweler’s awkward response barely registered.

“Your only clue is this ring, then? That makes my role a significant one, I see.”

“Not exactly. For starters, she’s married.”

“Haha…”

“And she has a voice as lovely as a canary’s.”

“Ah, then she must be quite beautiful as well.”

“Well, I haven’t seen her face, so I wouldn’t know about that.”

“And her personality?”

“She has a bold streak, the kind that allows her to make death threats out of nowhere.”

The jeweler laughed nervously but then grimaced awkwardly, likely recalling the sensational headlines about the infamous Duchess of Levantes—the very same woman who had allegedly stabbed her husband.

The Marquis, however, seemed to be enjoying the absurdity of the conversation. Leaning against the display case, he added with a mischievous smirk,

“She hasn’t shown up lately, so I’ve been wandering around Delgado. Curious, aren’t I? So, please cooperate. I’m growing more and more intrigued.”

“Curious? You, of all people, interested in someone else?”

“These days, yes.”

Though his eyes were a similar shade to her husband’s violet ones, their intensity was entirely different. The raw, unabashed curiosity in his gaze pressed heavily against Lorena’s neck, making her feel suffocated.

“I wonder… if she’s been sleeping well.”

“Pardon…?”

“Actually, I’m more curious if she’s been breathing properly. She seems… fragile.”

The Marquis’s low murmur made the jeweler scratch his cheek, visibly flustered.

“Goodness, making an old man’s heart race like this…”

“Well, it’s a request for you to find that sketch or whatever it is,” the Marquis said with a sly grin.

“You seem to have an idea of who she might be?”

“Not quite, though… with Alborada, there are always stories like that. It’s tricky to be certain.”

Lost in thought, the Marquis lightly tapped the glass display case. The jeweler noticed his gaze briefly linger on a woman standing diagonally across the room.

“Well, I leave it in your capable hands. Until next time.”

Straightening from the display case, the Marquis headed for the door, his reddish-brown eyes lingering on Lorena’s profile as though trying to etch it into his memory.

The door swung open and shut behind him.

When the jeweler secured the ring box in the safe and turned back, the Duchess was still standing at the display case, her face pale.

“About that ring just now… May I have a word with you?”

The jeweler let out another lighthearted laugh. It seemed the real scandal that would shake Motrel to its core had yet to even begin.