Klein and Ophelia returned to the spot where they had previously gotten off the carriage. The horse was still there, but the person holding the reins was not Raymond.
The carriage itself was no longer the same one, either.
Holding the reins was a driver with an unfamiliar face. Upon seeing Klein, he hurriedly took off his hat and offered a simple, honest smile.
"Master Klein."
The driver explained that the steward, Raymond, saw that they hadn't returned for quite some time. Estimating the hour, he had headed back to the manor first to prepare dinner, specifically hiring this man to wait here.
Klein looked over the hired carriage.
Calling it a carriage was a stretch; it was more like a flatbed cart with wheels. A simple canvas canopy was propped up over it, and the seat was nothing more than a narrow wooden board.
The space was... if they squeezed together, two people could barely fit.
He had no idea what Raymond had been thinking...
Klein frowned and glanced at the sky.
The sun had completely sunk below the horizon, the twilight deepening as the surrounding landscape began to blur into a dark blue gloom.
"Never mind, having something is better than nothing," Klein said, not being too picky. He couldn't exactly spend the night in the wilderness.
He gestured for Ophelia to board first.
The Knightess moved with agility, sitting on the left side of the wooden board with her back perfectly straight and her hands placed flat on her knees, as if she were attending some solemn ceremony. Even sitting on such a crude cart, she maintained a nearly militaristic, upright posture.
Klein followed her up, taking the spot on her right.
The width of the board was indeed limited. Even though both of them tried to sit as far to the edges as possible, the distance between their shoulders was barely a fist wide. Klein could clearly feel the faint heat radiating from Ophelia and the slightly tense aura she gave off from sitting so rigidly.
"Yah!" The driver flicked the reins, and the carriage lurched into motion.
Just as they started, the wheels rolled over a protruding stone, and the entire carriage tilted sharply to the right.
Klein was lost in thought and completely caught off guard. He slammed uncontrollably toward Ophelia.
Thud.
A muffled sound echoed.
His shoulder crashed solidly into hers.
Through the two layers of fabric, what he felt wasn't a soft sensation but a resilient, solid strength. It felt like hitting a wall wrapped in leather, steady and unmoving. Years of combat training had left her with muscular strength far beyond that of an ordinary woman.
Ophelia didn't even wobble, remaining seated perfectly straight.
Klein, however, was bounced back by the counterforce and nearly tumbled out of the cart. He frantically grabbed the wooden slats at the edge of the carriage to steady himself.
"Sorry," he said, somewhat disheveled, as he rubbed his numbing shoulder.
Ophelia didn't make a sound, only turning her head to give him a look.
In the twilight, Klein couldn't see her expression clearly; he could only see the faint light reflected in her golden eyes. Her gaze lingered on his face for two seconds before turning back to the front without a word.
However, Klein clearly saw her fingers tighten slightly where they rested on her knees.
The dirt roads in the countryside were full of potholes, and the carriage jolted violently, like a small boat sailing through wind and waves.
Klein felt as though he were falling apart. As the carriage swayed, his body repeatedly slumped toward the side, out of his control.
And right next to him was Ophelia.
At first, it was just their shoulders bumping into each other from time to time.
With every contact, Klein could feel the solid sensation of her shoulder and a clean scent—something like fresh grass mixed with leather—emanating from her. It was a trace left by long-term outdoor training; there was no scent of the perfumed powder common among noble ladies, but rather a refreshing quality that was hard to describe.
The twilight grew thicker, and the light inside the canvas canopy turned dim. Outside the carriage, the occasional cry of a night bird echoed through the fields, making the surroundings feel exceptionally empty.
Later, during a particularly violent jolt, Klein instinctively reached out to brace himself to stay upright.
Where his palm landed, he felt a surge of warmth and tension.
It was her thigh.
The fabric of her skirt was pulled taut by her seated posture. Underneath his palm, Klein could clearly feel the temperature beneath the cloth and a sensation that was firm yet not lacking in softness.
In that instant, the air seemed to freeze.
Klein's mind went blank, and his breathing even stopped.
As if he had been burned, he yanked his hand back like a lightning strike, freezing in place. He didn't even dare turn his head to look at Ophelia's expression.
In the dim light, he could feel Ophelia's body visibly stiffen. Her breathing seemed to lose its rhythm as well, becoming a bit more rapid than before.
This damned broken cart!
This damned broken road!
He was definitely going to order the roads to be repaired later!
Klein roared inwardly, but he forced himself to maintain a calm facade, his gaze fixed intently on the canvas canopy in front of him, not even daring to move his eyes.
In the cramped space, he could smell that extremely faint, clean scent like fresh grass. At this moment, the scent seemed even clearer, mixing with the fragrance of earth drifting from the night fields, making his heart race for some inexplicable reason.
Ophelia still didn't move or speak.
But Klein could feel that her hands on her knees were now laced together, her knuckles turning slightly white.
Silence.
A suffocating silence.
The carriage gave another violent shake.
This time, Klein had learned his lesson. He gripped the edge of the wooden board beneath him so hard his knuckles turned white.
He would rather be jolted until he was dizzy, and he would rather be sore all over tomorrow than experience that kind of "close contact" again.
He didn't know how long passed—perhaps half an hour, perhaps only ten minutes—but to Klein, it felt as long as a century.
This trip home seemed to have become exceptionally long.
He could hear his own heartbeat, feel Ophelia's deliberately slowed breathing, and even sense the slight trembling of her body from maintaining such a rigid posture.
It wasn't until the carriage finally entered the manor's driveway and the wheels rolled onto the relatively smooth gravel road that the jolting gradually subsided.
Klein quietly breathed a sigh of relief, but his hands still gripped the edge of the wooden board, not daring to relax for a moment.
...
The carriage they were riding in stopped at the manor's entrance.
Klein was the first to jump down. His movements were a bit hurried, and he almost missed the step. After steadying himself, he habitually turned around, prepared to help Ophelia down.
But Ophelia had already jumped down on her own, her movements still crisp and clean, requiring no help at all.
Only, the moment her feet hit the ground, Klein noticed her hem sway slightly with a larger motion than usual, as if those legs hadn't quite recovered from the stiffness just now.
When the two of them walked into the hall one after the other, the aroma of food was already wafting from the dining room.
On the long table, steaming roasted meat, vegetable salad, and freshly baked bread were already neatly arranged. The candles on the candelabra were lit, their warm glow dispelling the chill of the night.
Raymond, dressed in his meticulous steward's uniform, was laying out the cutlery with movements as elegant as if he were completing some kind of ritual. The silver knives and forks glinted softly under the candlelight, each piece polished to a spotless shine.
From driving to cooking to managing the massive manor, this steward was nearly omnipotent.
Dinner proceeded in a strange silence.
Raymond stood quietly to the side. Klein occasionally said a few words, while Ophelia responded with nods or brief, single-word answers.
The only sounds at the table were the light clinking of cutlery against porcelain and the occasional soft sound of chewing.
Several times Klein wanted to speak to break the silence, but the words caught in his throat. He felt that saying anything right now would be inappropriate, especially after what had happened in the carriage.
Ophelia kept her head down, focused on cutting the roasted meat on her plate. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if this were a task requiring her full concentration. A faint red still lingered on the tips of her ears, appearing and disappearing in the candlelight.
When the meal was over, Ophelia stood up, gave a slight nod to Klein and Raymond, and walked straight up the stairs leading to the second floor.
Her back was still held very straight and her pace was steady, but Klein noticed that her speed up the stairs was faster than usual, as if she were fleeing from something.
Klein let out a yawn and prepared to go upstairs as well, but not to the second floor.
He turned and walked toward the stairs leading to the third floor, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall.
Raymond bowed and watched Klein's figure disappear around the corner of the stairs.
He cleared the table, wiping the silver cutlery one by one and placing them back into the utensil box.
His movements were as meticulous as ever, but his brow was slightly furrowed.
He was the only one left in the hall, the firelight from the fireplace stretching his shadow long.
He stopped what he was doing and stood quietly, his gaze falling on the stairs—where one led to the second floor and the other to the third.
...
Raymond was a man who knew his place.
Originally, there was only his master in this residence, so he didn't need to avoid anything and could handle everything personally.
Now that there was a mistress, some things could only be done by the maids employed in the house.
Therefore, after returning to the manor early, Raymond had simply prepared a meal and hadn't stepped into any other rooms.
In other words, Raymond wasn't entirely sure how the master and mistress were currently getting along, or what the mistress's background truly was.
But by the looks of it... these two didn't seem to be sleeping together.
After a moment, Raymond sighed. He set down his polishing cloth, adjusted his necktie, and turned to walk up the stairs.
He didn't go to the second floor; instead, he went straight to the closed door on the third floor.
Knock, knock, knock.
The knocking was steady and rhythmic.
"Enter."
Raymond pushed the door open, and a scent mixing herbs and metal rushed toward him.
Klein was sitting behind a table piled with bottles and jars, fiddling with a strange instrument made of brass.
Diagrams and notes were scattered across the table, and candlelight danced across the metal surfaces, casting flickering shadows.
"Raymond? Is something wrong?"
Klein asked without looking up, his hands not stopping their work.
Raymond closed the door and walked to the table. He remained silent for two seconds before speaking calmly, "Young Master, you are married."
"Ah, yes." Klein set down the object in his hand and rubbed his aching neck. "It was too sudden. During those few days you were away from the manor, the marriage contract from the imperial capital came straight down."
"Well... the next day, which was yesterday, Ophelia arrived in a carriage. I didn't even have time to notify you."
Raymond fell silent for two seconds, then asked, "...What is the mistress's background?"
"A knight of the imperial capital." Klein leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. "Have you heard of the sea monster war on the west coast? She was the great hero of that war. It's said she single-handedly tore through the sea monsters' defense lines, eventually slaughtering them until they were forced to retreat."
Upon hearing the words "war" and "hero," Raymond, who had been standing perfectly upright, experienced a nearly imperceptible stiffening in his body.
His breath hitched for an instant, and his fingers tightened slightly at his side.
Klein glanced at him, roughly guessing what he was worried about, so he smiled and offered his own speculation in a relaxed tone:
"The war is over, and the sea monsters have retreated. This Knightess's prestige is too high, and her contributions are too great. The lords in the Empire probably can't sleep because of it, but they're too embarrassed to do something as foul as 'killing the hound once the rabbit is caught' like the previous dynasty did. After all, she's a hero of the Empire with immense popularity among the people; moving against her would be asking for trouble."
He paused and continued, "So, they simply married her off far away to the countryside, to a minor noble like me who is unknown and can't stir up any trouble. Out of sight, out of mind. It preserves her reputation while weakening her influence. It kills two birds with one stone."
This explanation was logical and reasonable. Raymond's tense shoulders relaxed, and he nodded.
He had seen plenty of the methods used by the nobles in the imperial capital.
He now understood the political significance of this mistress's arrival and had assessed the potential risks involved.
This was indeed a political marriage, unrelated to affection.
But because of that...
Raymond's gaze swept around the room—the simple cot in the corner, the messy bedding, and the still-steaming teacup on the table.
Then, his tone abruptly shifted.
"Young Master," Raymond's voice was very low, carrying a hint of a probe, "Were you... resting on the third floor last night?"
Klein blinked, then nodded. "Yeah, the laboratory is more convenient. It's close to my research materials."
He asked somewhat confusedly, "Don't I usually do this?"
"And the mistress?"
"She's in the room on the second floor," Klein said naturally, seemingly completely unaware that there was any problem with this.
Raymond was silent.
He looked at Klein, a flash of complex emotion in his eyes.
"Young Master," he said, weighing his words, "Forgive my presumption... You and the mistress are already married, have you..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was already clear.
Klein's movements froze.
He looked at Raymond and blinked, seemingly only just realizing where the problem lay.
"You mean..."
"Yes." Raymond nodded, his voice still calm, but his eyes held a rare trace of seriousness. "You and the mistress haven't consummated the marriage yet, have you?"
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