Chapter 9

"I had heard that the one coming here to be a bride would be Adel Nefashal..."

"Yes. About a week ago, my sister Adel ran away with a certain young master, so while it might not be the right way to put it, I have come in her place."

"...A substitute. I see."

Magritte, not one to be intimidated, stared straight at where the man's eyes would be and answered. She was curious about how he would react. Magritte swallowed hard, and the man averted his gaze. A moment of silence ensued, but then the man gestured for her to enter the house, and she moved forward.

(He looks scary, but is he a good person?)

She was led to a spacious room with a table and chairs, and Magritte sat down. The man was pouring coffee with a practiced air.

(...It smells good.)

A smile involuntarily escaped her as the fragrant aroma filled the air. The windows were covered with grass, and despite the clear weather outside, the room felt dim and eerie. A cup was placed in front of her with a soft clink. The items in the room seemed new and luxurious compared to the house itself.

"Thank you."

Magritte said this before taking a sip from the cup. The complex, deep, and rich bitterness that spread in her mouth, along with the smoky aroma that rose to her nose, made her wonder if it was just her imagination that the coffee was so carefully prepared.

The man prepared his own cup and sat down at a distance from Magritte. She still didn't know the man's name. After a while of silence, she decided to break it.

"Um, what is your name?"

"......It's Isaac."

"Lord Isaac."

"Isaac is fine."

Isaac said this without changing his expression. He wore a white shirt, dark brown pants, and had messy olive beige hair, which made him look like a servant. Magritte looked around the room and then asked Isaac, unable to call him by his first name despite the obvious age difference.

"Isaac, where is the Margrave of Ganongruf?"

"......!"

"I just thought I would at least greet him..."

Isaac's emerald green eyes, visible through his bangs, widened in surprise. Seeing his reaction, a thought crossed Magritte's mind.

(Maybe it's a topic I shouldn't have brought up... Is the Margrave of Ganongruf feared even by the people who work in the house?)

Isaac scratched his cheek with his index finger, looking uncomfortable.

"That... that..."

"It's okay, Isaac! Don't worry about it!"

"Huh...?"

Magritte smiled, realizing she shouldn't push Isaac to talk about the Margrave of Ganongruf. She interpreted his reluctance as not wanting to say anything bad about him and said, "It's fine, really," nodding firmly. Isaac's tense expression seemed to relax a little.

(So he really didn't want to talk about the Margrave of Ganongruf.)

When Isaac asked if she wanted a refill of coffee, Magritte nodded honestly. The pleasant aroma in the room and the sound of boiling water reached her. Isaac placed another cup on the table. After Magritte thanked him, a voice came from above.

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid... of what?"

"You must have heard that the Margrave of Ganongruf uses corruption magic, yet you remain calm."

Isaac seemed puzzled by Magritte's lack of fear.