Chapter 12

It was a rainy evening, the kind that cast a stillness over the world as everyone else slept.

In the darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of a small lamp, Velita sat at her desk, pen in hand, attempting to write a letter as she always did. Yet, tonight, she couldn’t focus.

The events of the day churned relentlessly in her mind.

Cain’s unbridled contempt, Selina’s cold yet polite kindness, and the lingering tension from it all—these thoughts clung to her, refusing to let go.

Perhaps Selina had defended her in front of Cain, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that, deep down, Selina blamed Velita’s impulsive actions for provoking him.

And Cain Mortens—his open disdain for her, his clear recognition of her relationship with Jeremy—had humiliated her.

It was as if he had decided she was nothing more than a greedy maid seducing an innocent noble for material gain.

‘I’m not that kind of person.’

She clenched her fists, her thoughts spiraling.

‘I’m not like my mother. I don’t manipulate people’s feelings for petty things.’

‘Then… do you love the young master?’

The small, quiet question emerged from somewhere deep within her, and Velita found herself unable to answer.

Did she spend the night with Jeremy out of love? The answer was no. It had been an act of survival, a way to escape Killian’s grasp. She had used Jeremy, believing he cared for her.

It would be a lie to say her resentment toward Selina hadn’t also played a part. And hadn’t she, shamelessly, searched for something Jeremy might have left behind for her as soon as she woke?

‘But it’s not fair.’

She shook her head, as if trying to dispel the thoughts clawing at her.

‘I didn’t have a choice. If Killian comes back, I’ll need something to offer. That’s why I checked. That’s all it was. It’s not greed—it’s survival.’

Velita sighed, her mind warring with itself as she tried to suppress the low, insidious voices of doubt.

But as one question faded, another surfaced:

‘Does the young master really care for me?’

Why was this question only arising now?

When she had spent the night with Jeremy, she’d convinced herself he had feelings for her. Even now, part of her wanted to believe it.

And yet…

Cain’s reaction, the way he had so easily assumed that the marks on her neck were Jeremy’s doing, gnawed at her. The casualness with which Cain mentioned Jeremy, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, unsettled her.

But her unease melted away when a memory of Jeremy surfaced, one that unraveled in her mind with startling clarity.

[You don’t need to explain. I know the rumors about me as well as anyone.]

As she recalled Jeremy’s saddened eyes when he spoke of the rumors about him, the unease and resentment within Velita seemed to retreat, curling up and sinking away into the depths of her mind.

She gazed out the rain-streaked window, her thoughts adrift.

‘Has the young master not returned yet?’

Jeremy had not come back to the estate by evening.

The Earl of Ryles, while doting on his youngest daughter, appeared strangely indifferent toward Jeremy. He occasionally asked about his whereabouts but didn’t seem particularly involved.

‘Is it just the difference between a son and a daughter?’

Velita moved cautiously, glancing at Janice, who snored lightly in the background. She stood and approached the window, drawn by the sound of soft rain mingling with the chirping of insects.

That was when she saw it—a shadow walking through the rain without an umbrella.

At first, it was difficult to make out who it was in the darkness. But soon enough, Velita realized who it had to be. After all, there were only two men in this household who could be dressed so flamboyantly.

The moment she recognized him, Velita was already moving.

Grabbing an umbrella, she sprinted silently through the deserted hallways, completely forgetting her earlier efforts not to disturb Janice. She ran toward the garden, where he stumbled through the rain.

“Young master!”

Jeremy stood by a tree, his shirt partially unbuttoned, smoking a cigar.

As Velita approached, the sharp scent of strong liquor mixed with the smoke assaulted her senses. She coughed and covered her nose but stubbornly held out the umbrella toward him.

Jeremy’s deep blue eyes flicked to her hand gripping the umbrella’s handle. Velita thought he would take it, but instead, he bent forward, stepping under the umbrella with her.

This forced her to rise on her tiptoes, raising the umbrella higher to match his height.

Jeremy’s gaze drifted downward, noticing her precariously balanced stance. He smirked, the cigar still between his lips.

“Sweetheart.”

He exhaled a puff of smoke, the white tendrils curling around her as he addressed her with a saccharine term, as though speaking to an actual lover. Velita coughed again but raised her head to observe him.

From the smell of alcohol, it was clear he was drunk.

Of course, Jeremy had called her ‘sweetheart’ before, even just the previous day when he’d pretended to be her lover in front of Killian. But that had been to save her.

Velita didn’t want to misinterpret his words.

She didn’t want to nurture false hopes, only to be crushed by disappointment and self-loathing.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Jeremy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his words soft and teasing, but they ignited an unwelcome flutter of hope in her chest.

“Hmm? Answer me.”

“…”

“If you tell me you were waiting for me, I might get a little excited.”

His tone was light, but the weight of his words made Velita’s heart pound. She hesitated, torn between the truth and her fear of showing vulnerability.

Velita didn’t really know what it meant to act like lovers.

She had never been in an environment where she could dream of a romantic connection with someone. All she could do was recall how her hysterical yet beautiful mother had behaved in the presence of her “lovers.” Even among the impoverished and powerless, love managed to bloom, though it was often far from pure and sweet.

Her mother, Madame Grandel, was stunningly beautiful, and men were never in short supply around her. Some were even fortunate enough to have money. Whether they were truly her mother’s lovers or merely one-sided illusions of love, Velita vividly remembered how her mother became captivatingly charming before them.

When she thought about it, her mother had likely made demands no different from what Velita now wanted to say.

So perhaps it was acceptable for her to express at least this much disappointment.

“Why did you leave without saying anything this morning?”

The words left her mouth before she fully realized it, revealing a hurt she hadn’t acknowledged herself.

It dawned on her only after she spoke—she had been upset about how Jeremy had left her behind so unceremoniously.

For him, it might have been nothing more than a fleeting game, and she had knowingly accepted that. She had no reason to feel hurt.

But if this was a relationship where she could dare to expect something, then wasn’t she allowed to be a little upset?

Jeremy didn’t answer right away. He simply stared at her, his deep blue eyes holding an unreadable warmth—or was it coldness? She couldn’t tell.

Velita lowered her gaze, her courage faltering.

‘I must have overstepped…’

The moment she said it, she realized what she had done.

She wanted reassurance.

She wanted to believe she wasn’t the kind of woman who deserved Cain Mortens’ blatant contempt. She wanted to hear it from Jeremy, the one person she felt she could rely on.

The memory of Cain’s words resurfaced unbidden:

‘That man wouldn’t care if it were a street harlot or a wild animal in heat.’

And then there was the stark contrast in his tone and gaze when he had spoken to Selina:

[Stay away from Selina.]

The way he had looked at Selina with such tender affection… it was a sharp, painful comparison.

To a noble knight like Cain Mortens, a lowly maid from the slums meant nothing. If he hadn’t treated her so cruelly, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought.

Selina was his childhood friend and once his betrothed. His fondness for her was understandable.

But Cain had made his disdain for Velita obvious, doling out scorn for her while lavishing Selina with affection. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything to deserve his hatred.

[If Selina falls ill because of you, I won’t forgive you.]

He had treated her as though she were a disease.

The anger she thought she’d let go of flared briefly before dissolving into something more fragile. Her nose stung as tears threatened to well up.

She widened her eyes, determined not to cry.

“Velita, look at me.”

“…”

“Sweetheart, hmm?”

Jeremy’s voice was softer now, almost coaxing.

Jeremy’s voice, dripping with sweetness, made it easy to forget the boundaries between a master and a maid.

Velita didn’t want to lift her head. She feared that his gentleness might twist into irritation if she continued to ignore him, so, reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his. At that moment, a single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek.

“…You’re driving me crazy.”

His voice was low, carrying an odd hint of satisfaction.

Jeremy lifted his hand, and for a fleeting moment, Velita thought he might wipe away her tear. Instead, his fingers brushed against the umbrella’s rod, gliding down its surface as though stroking skin. Just as his hand neared hers, he abruptly pushed the umbrella away.

The umbrella, which Velita had so carefully brought for him, landed in the wet, muddy ground with a soft thud.

“Master, what—?!”

Velita’s protest was cut off as Jeremy’s hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her forward. She stumbled, and their lips met.

Despite the damp, cold night air, his lips and breath burned with heat.

“Haa… No, not here…!”

They weren’t in a secluded maze garden but an open area, vulnerable to prying eyes. The risk of being caught was too high.

“No one’s coming. It’s fine,” Jeremy murmured.

It was true that the late hour and the pouring rain made it unlikely for anyone to wander into the garden. But Velita’s heart raced with anxiety.

“Even so… we can’t…!”

She pushed at him as his lips trailed along her neck, gasping for breath as she straightened her disheveled clothes.

And then, purely by chance, her eyes caught something.

A faint red lipstick mark peeked out from beneath Jeremy’s unbuttoned shirt.

‘…Emma Collin?’

Velita’s thoughts immediately went to Emma, but she had been in the estate all day.

“Emma was fine with it. Why aren’t you?”

Jeremy’s casual remark sealed her suspicions. The lipstick mark had to belong to Emma. He had spent time with her before coming here—time he hadn’t bothered to mention. And now, reeking of alcohol and smoke, he was here with Velita.

So much for those sweet words of love.

“I thought you liked me,” Jeremy said, his voice softening into a pained whisper.

“…”

“But I guess your feelings for me are even less than Emma’s.”

His once warm and tender gaze hardened, disappointment flickering in his deep blue eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might turn and leave.

‘No, I can’t let that happen.’

Velita’s heart sank. Just once, she wanted to feel special to someone—truly special.

“Do you like me… more than Emma?” she asked hesitantly, clutching the hem of his sleeve with trembling fingers.

Jeremy’s expression shifted instantly. He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmured, his voice rich with affection.

With a possessive grip, he wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled his face against her neck.

“I love you, Velita.”

His words carried the weight of certainty, and she felt herself succumbing to them.

Jeremy didn’t need to seduce someone who was already his. His lips claimed hers again, more fervent this time. Velita gasped softly as her back hit the rough surface of a tree trunk.

The rain continued to fall around them, but it couldn’t extinguish the heat between them. Jeremy pressed his lips against hers with an intensity that left her breathless, leaving no space for doubt or resistance.