I was not entirely stunned; instead, I lowered my head in embarrassment. At least he showed no signs of stomach pain or poisoning brought on by my tea.
I let out a breath. I had done what I could.
"I apologize for my lack of skill," I said softly. "I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Would you lik—"
"Make another one."
"Ah—"
I froze.
Another one? Make another one?
Why?
Would it not turn out just as badly? There was no chance of improvement!
I wanted to cry. Truly. All I wished for was to return to my quarters and take a single day's rest. Why did this day feel so endlessly long and exhausting?
With a defeated sigh, I turned back to the trolley and did as I was instructed.
I prepared another cup, occasionally glancing toward the Young Duke, only to catch him watching me openly, without shame to pretend otherwise.
Each time our eyes met, my awareness sharpened. I felt exposed as though every clumsy motion or uncertain step was laid bare before him.
My inexperience, so obviously being watched.
Soon, I presented the new cup. It was nearly the same as before, though this time I added more milk and less sugar.
"No. Make another," he said casually, setting the cup and saucer back to the table.
My shoulders slumped as I retrieved it.
I made yet another, adjusting again—more sugar, less tea, and omitting the lime.
Still—
"No. Make another."
My shoulders sagged as I retrieved it.
Still—
"No. Make another one."
I prepared yet another, using less sugar and milk, adding more lime.
"No. Make another one."
Again.
"Make another one."
Again.
"Another one."
"Take it back."
"Bad."
My temples throbbed with anger and I nearly grabbed my head in frustration.
I had the overwhelming urge to smash the teacup against his head, still, I quickly tried hard to sustain a forced composure.
What exactly did he want?
If he disliked my tea so much, could he not simply summon another servant?
My right eye twitched as I forced a strained smile, collecting the cup once more.
Make another one, was it?
Very well.
This time, I abandoned all care. I threw in whatever caught my eye. The tea powder was barely strained. The sugar outweighed the tea itself. Lime was added without restraint, and why not honey? Lavender as well?
Perfect.
I was certain he would enjoy this one immensely.
When I brought it to him, my heart pounded with equal parts fear and reckless excitement.
Even if I were punished, what was the worst that could happen? Death?
I no longer cared. It was not as though I had never died before.
He set aside his paperwork and lifted the saucer with unhurried grace, raising the cup slowly. I watched closely, my eyes fixed on his lips as he prepared to drink.
This was it. The decisive moment.
But then he stopped.
He glanced up at my far-to-eager expression and raised a brow. Without drinking, he suddenly extended the cup toward me.
"Take it," he said calmly. "You've earned it for your effort."
What?
I blinked, staring down at the tea. It looked as though it had been scooped from the waste swamp, strange bubbles clinging to its surface.
I could not refuse. That would only invite suspicion.
"Ah… thank you, Young Duke. You are most generous."
My smile was painfully stiff as I accepted the saucer.
I did not need to drink it in front of him, surely, I didn't need to, so I turned to leave—
"Drink it here."
No.
I turned back at once, staring down at the cup. The bubbles seemed to multiply, mocking me.
I looked up, forced a smile, and lifted the cup with trembling hands.
I took a sip.
"Huek—ah… I mean, thank you, Young Duke," I said quickly.
It was dreadful. Utterly vile. I fought the urge to retch, forcing myself to endure it until I could leave.
I thought I was free.
Then he spoke again.
"Drink it all."
I turned to him in disbelief. He remained relaxed, attention already returned to his documents.
He knew.
This was my retribution.
—
I returned to my quarters later with a pale face, having just left Westwond Mansion. The tea did not upset my stomach, but its taste lingered unpleasantly.
I could not believe how careless and foolish I had been, even evilly thinking of serving such a thing to him.
In the end, I was the one who paid the price.
Of course he noticed immediately. Making me drink it was a deliberate lesson.
What else had I expected?
The Young Duke was renowned for sharp perception and keen intelligence. Had he failed to notice, those titles would have meant nothing.
He was not foolish.
I was.
Taking out my frustration so recklessly—had others witnessed it, I would have been ridiculed without mercy.
I sighed and finally allowed myself to rest. I was utterly worn out. The day had been relentless.
The days before hadn't ever favored me, and misfortune just seemed to follow me without rest. I doubted the days ahead would be kinder.
The Young Duke?
I should avoid him from now on.
I no longer loved him, and yet—
I should sleep.
When I awoke, it was early morning, and duty called once more.
My first task was feeding the hounds—or rather, the beasts.
I was terrified.
I had not even found Albert the previous day to ask for guidance; he had simply vanished.
I hurried to the Westwond Mansion and eventually encountered Evelyn—the one assigned to me. She did not spare me more than a glance.
"This guard will take you to the beasts," she said flatly. "Try not to die."
Then she left.
I stood awkwardly before the guard. He nodded once and turned away. I hurried after him, nearly stumbling as I followed.
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