"He's the son of a merchant who succeeded in investing, so he has plenty of money, and he boxes as a hobby."
The story of an imaginary lover seemed to have contributed somewhat to shutting the coachman's mouth. Not losing that momentum, Amelie continued.
"Of course, for a hobby, he's quite good. He's won the league championship several times."
"……."
"Even though I work as a maid, if he heard I'd been insulted in a cheap carriage like this, he would never let it go."
"……."
"As a matter of fact, he beat up a nobleman who was harassing me quite badly this time, so he's standing trial. I'm on my way to collect this document as an observer."
"……."
It seemed this much was enough. Amelie muttered, slipping the letter back inside.
"Please just keep going straight to the post office next to St. Francis Hospital."
"…I will."
Having grown accustomed to the life of a maid, swallowing her anger inwardly every day had become routine, but getting the foul-mouthed coachman to shut up made her feel a bit relieved. Her throbbing body also seemed to improve a little…….
Even though it was all a fabricated story.
The person she'd cobbled together to serve as Amelie's lover was none other than the famous Viscount Olivier d'Anpierre.
She had thought every scrap of information about that man was utterly useless, yet it could prove so useful. She found herself feeling grateful, if only for a moment, to a nobleman she had never even laid eyes on.
People like Olivier d'Anpierre probably had no worries whatsoever. 1,700 francs, a sum unimaginable to Amelie, would be nothing more to him than opening his safe and taking it out.
Since he was far wealthier than Count Biche, he would never be sent to prison over money. If he fell ill, he could call a doctor from the university hospital to his house.
He wouldn't ride a cheap two-wheeled carriage to a clinic doctor while getting motion sickness. Nor would he receive the sleazy gazes of a crude coachman.
So…….
On a day like today, surely it would be fine to borrow even my face as an imaginary lover.
After all, he was someone who could never blend into Amelie's world, someone whose shadow would never even mingle with hers.
The coachman kept looking straight ahead in silence, and the carriage was just entering the outskirts of Ejon.
Amelie, who offered Viscount Olivier d'Anpierre a word of thanks in her heart, curled up her throbbing body and buried her back deep into the seat.
* * *
St. Francis Hospital was a fairly decent hospital, but it was not so charitable as to allow a sick maid to lie in a hospital bed for long.
Those admitted to the wards were generally people who had the means to pay for expensive medicine, taxes on hospital beds, and even terrible food.
For Amelie, who had incurred a debt of 1,700 francs overnight, there was no real choice.
Amelie dragged her throbbing body and exited the hospital lobby. She had spent almost all the money Madame Maxime had given her just on getting injections and buying medicine. Even though she'd been prescribed the cheapest medication.
"Go home and get plenty of rest."
The hospital clerk who handed her the receipt muttered listlessly.
Though it was a habitual, formal greeting, to Amelie even that felt like a handful of warmth.
Struggling to steady her fever-racked body, Amelie left the hospital and stepped out into the street.
It was April, but people were still wearing coats.
Even huddling her body as much as possible, the biting cold seeped into her.
Tying her bonnet tight and pulling the hood over it, Amelie began walking with her head deeply bowed.
She had to move quickly to finish her business before the post office closed.
Clutching the few remaining coins in her pocket and the court order tightly, Amelie gritted her teeth and broke into a brisk pace.
Trying to soothe her stomach that felt as though it would turn over, just as she rounded the corner—
"Hey. Stop right there."
A rough voice from behind called Amelie to a halt.
* * *
Unlike the clean main streets, Ejon's narrow alleys stretched out like spiderwebs, puddles of stagnant mud making them terribly filthy.
Without even a moment to grasp what was happening, Amelie was roughly shoved against a wall.
"Wh… who are you?"
"You ought to know better than I."
A cold voice cut through the air.
Amelie's body trembled with fear. The hand that had been gripping her shoulder fell away, and a large shadow fell before her.
"Speak."
"Yes? I… I don't know anything."
"Don't play dumb."
The low voice growled threateningly. Too frightened to even lift her head, trembling, she felt hard, cold metal beneath her jaw. The man aiming the tip of his cane spat coldly.
"Who is your master who sent me a letter?"
Amelie barely raised her eyes to the man's chest. He wore a blue suit without a speck of dust, a jeweled watch chain hanging with sensuous appeal—he seemed to be a young nobleman.
"Answer. I asked who your master is, pulling this kind of prank."
The cane tip pressed against her chin once more.
"I… I am—"
"When was it that you brazenly came and went from my house? And now you put on this innocent act."
The man, seeming unable to contain his anger, reached out and gripped Amelie's shoulder tightly.
"A-ah, it hurts."
Tears fell in drops from Amelie's terrified eyes.
"Speak. Who is that madwoman you serve."
"……Katarina Biche?"
She briefly thought of Katarina, but it didn't seem to be that sort of matter. Which meant he had likely mistaken her for someone else…….
Who was this man, who would do such a thing?
"No matter how much your master pushes me like a madwoman, I will never crawl into your master's bed."
What in the world was that supposed to mean?
Before she could offer any explanation, the man's cane pressed hard beneath her jaw. As her head was slowly forced upward, tears streamed down her cheeks.
The nape of the man's neck came into view. The cravat fastened with a jewel pin was dazzlingly splendid. Silk with a red pattern, gold ornaments studded with jewels…….
"You barged into my house just moments ago, and now that you're caught, you shed false tears."
"I… I have never entered anyone's house."
Barely enduring her trembling body, Amelie constantly tried to figure out the man's identity.
The thin sheepskin gloves gripping the ebony cane, the cuffs briefly visible outside the sleeves of the high-quality suit—they were extravagantly expensive. Those too were surely jewels…….
He was clearly no ordinary person.
"I… I……"
When the cane tip lifted her chin higher, Amelie could do nothing but stand on her tiptoes, as if she were being strangled.
Her body, leaning against the wall, swayed; just as she was about to collapse, Amelie barely spat out words as if vomiting them.
"I am a maid of the Biche estate."
"Biche?"
The moment the cane withdrew from beneath her chin, Amelie's legs gave out and she collapsed with a thud.
"Count Biche? Why would the Countess do this to me?"
"My lord, I do not understand what you mean. I… I only came to Ejon for personal business……."
Pouring out tears, Amelie barely looked up at him.
The alley, untouched by light, was dark. The man, his face invisible, stepped back from Amelie. The hem of his frock coat brushed against Amelie's face as she sat slumped.
"I… I am Amelie Garnier, employed at Count Biche's residence. I have done nothing else."
"……."
"I haven't trespassed into anyone's house, either."
"Are you joking right now?"
The man's voice snapped coldly. Now that she looked, he too was breathing quite heavily.
"I tailed you from the next alley over. You were the only maid with her hood up."
"I just came from receiving treatment at St. Francis Hospital. I wore the hood because I was in so much pain."
"Even though I followed you all the way?"
Tears of frustration and grievance fell drop by drop. Amelie protested with a sob.
"That must mean my lord's skills at tailing are terrible……."
The man fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words.
Trembling and struggling, Amelie stood up and pulled out the receipt she managed to grab from her pocket.
"Here… it's a receipt. Go to St. Francis Hospital and check."
Amelie swayed, on the verge of collapsing, and finally leaned against the dirty wall. While she caught her breath, the man took the receipt from Amelie's hand and examined it.
Only belatedly did she realize the court order had come up with it.
"Th-that, please give it back……."
Amelie snapped her head up urgently.
And then, her eyes met the man's.
The man was quite tall. He was a head taller than Amelie.
Just then, the setting sun cast a handful of sunlight through the narrow alley.
"Ah."
Seeing the man's face, Amelie let out a small groan without realizing it.
It was a face she had seen somewhere before.
His face, clarified by the sunlight, left an impression so intense it momentarily blanked her mind. His dark blond hair gleamed brilliantly as if encircled by a halo, and the green eyes staring piercingly into her were deep.
"Could it be……."
While Amelie blinked and caught her breath, a bewildered light slowly rose on the man's face.