I was heading toward Ascan and Marquis Brellof’s estate.

Though I was hurrying to make it in time for Noxia’s wedding, I still took moments to admire the scenery around me, keeping my mind at ease.

Suddenly, a letter arrived from the Brellof family.

It was odd—they knew we’d arrive soon, so why urgently send a message via messenger bird?

Opening the letter casually, I froze solid.

The contents, written personally by Orland, were nothing short of shocking.

It was filled with information about Harrison, the butler—details I’d never known—and suggested he was the prime suspect behind Charles’s murder.

‘I’ve been too busy lately to continue investigating the true culprit, but Noxia must’ve uncovered new facts in the meantime.’

It was admirable that Noxia had found clues while I hadn’t been paying attention.

Now that I knew Harrison’s hidden side, I couldn’t just let this go.

Moreover, Orland was currently immobilized due to Noxia’s wedding. I was the only one who could investigate immediately.

I opened the carriage window and called out to Zen, seated on the driver’s bench.

“Zen, where are we right now? Could you show me the map?”

“Yes, Miss.”

Zen promptly pulled out the map and indicated our current location. Fortunately, we were very close to the village where Harrison was staying.

I pointed my finger at the village on the map and spoke again.

“Let’s stop here first.”

“What? That’ll make us take a detour.”

“I know. I have business there.”

“Did something happen? Weren’t you just urging us to reach Miss Noxia as quickly as possible?”

Zen knew a letter had arrived urgently from the Brellof family, so he asked curiously—but I avoided giving detailed explanations.

“It’s not the right time to talk yet. I’ll tell you once things are confirmed.”

To Zen, Charles was a special person. If he learned Harrison might be Charles’s murderer, I feared he’d lose his composure.

Dealing with Harrison, the former butler, would be easy. But uncovering the truth behind Charles’s death from over twenty years ago? That was immensely difficult.

That’s precisely why Orland had ordered a secret investigation instead of immediately arresting Harrison.

Though still curious, Zen, true to his loyal nature, asked no further questions.

“Understood. I’ll adjust our route to the village you mentioned.”

“Good.”

I closed the carriage window and looked across at Ascan, seated opposite me.

Ascan, who had been riding with me inside the carriage, also wore a puzzled expression at my sudden instruction. He likely sensed something serious had occurred.

Instead of lengthy explanations, I simply handed him the letter Orland had sent.

Ascan silently accepted it and began reading. I could feel his expression growing increasingly grave.

Soon after, he handed the letter back to me and asked,

“What do you plan to do?”

“Well… it’s been over twenty years. It’s unlikely any clues remain. Father wouldn’t have overlooked anything suspicious.”

Noxia had discovered the photograph because she visited Harrison’s residence unexpectedly. If it had been a scheduled meeting, he likely would’ve hidden the photo in advance.

The discovery of evidence—previously invisible twenty years ago—was why Harrison had become a suspect. But to confirm he was truly Charles’s murderer, we needed more concrete proof.

The most certain way would be if Harrison confessed himself—but judging by the meticulousness described in the letter, he seemed unlikely to talk easily.

Lost in thought, I murmured,

“I’ll need to conceal my identity. Since Noxia just visited, if I show up next, he’ll find it suspicious. That’ll make gathering evidence even harder.”

Every single clue was precious in investigating such an old case. If Harrison sensed anything odd, he might destroy evidence—we had to proceed cautiously.

Ascan nodded in agreement.

“Better cover your face—he might recognize you. Fortunately, this carriage came from the Lazent Empire, so he won’t associate it with the Brellof family.”

“Right. From now on, you’ll lead our procession.”

To avoid arousing Harrison’s suspicion, I needed to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Ascan nodded, understanding.

Then, another idea struck me.

“I think I should disguise myself as a maid. It’ll make approaching the villagers easier.”

Ascan’s eyes widened slightly—he clearly hadn’t expected that. Soon after, he asked skeptically,

“You? As a maid?”

“Yes. Your personal maid. What do you think?”

Ascan’s expression turned strange. Our roles—once mistress and slave—were now completely reversed.

“…Hard to imagine.”

At his quiet mutter, I chuckled. Those who knew my true identity might find it awkward, but others wouldn’t notice.

What mattered was something else.

“Is there any natural way to approach Harrison and the villagers?”

According to the letter, Harrison was well-regarded in the village—but if he truly murdered Charles, he couldn’t possibly be an ordinary person.

‘There must be something.’

Liking someone wasn’t wrong. But killing someone you liked? That was unusual.

The evidence suggested Harrison had admired Charles. If he killed someone he cared for, there had to be some anomaly.

‘Best to approach when he’s off-guard and observe his daily behavior…’

To the villagers, our sudden arrival would make us objects of suspicion. To learn more about Harrison, we needed to dissolve that wariness.

Just as I was pondering how to blend in naturally, Ascan—unlike his earlier reaction to my maid idea—replied calmly,

“I think I can handle that.”

“How?”

“We’ll disguise this procession as the Adel Trading Company—pretend we’re starting business in this quiet village. That way, we can naturally approach people while ‘surveying’ the population or scouting shop locations.”

I was genuinely surprised by this unexpected idea.

Smiling brightly, I nodded at Ascan.

“Good. You’re as clever as ever.”

At my praise, a satisfied smile curled at Ascan’s lips. Then, in a subtly teasing tone, he whispered,

“Is praise all you’re offering?”

“What do you want?”

The moment I asked, I instantly regretted it—memories of spending three days and nights with him in bed resurfaced.

Could he possibly want…?

When I stared at him in alarm, Ascan seemed to read my thoughts and smirked.

“This time, it’s different.”

“What is it?”

“Like ten years ago… stroke my hair.”

As he spoke, Ascan tilted his head slightly—an unmistakable invitation for my touch.

Somehow, I felt like I was petting a large dog—a loyal creature who hid his sharp teeth and claws only for me.

Slowly, I raised my hand and stroked his black hair. His strands slipped softly between my fingers.

Was it because I hadn’t touched his hair in so long?

As time passed, my face inexplicably grew warmer. Seeing his languid expression, my heart foolishly raced.

“Didn’t know you liked this kind of thing.”

Hearing my mutter, Ascan chuckled lowly.

“Guess you didn’t know—I like everything you do.”

Still receiving my caress, Ascan lifted his head. His gaze, fixed on me, radiated pure adoration.

Feeling his overflowing affection, I unconsciously smiled happily.

As planned, we changed the procession’s leader heading toward Marquis Brellof’s estate to Ascan.

Though Zen, Carlton, and everyone else wondered why, I gave no detailed explanation. Still, not a single person disobeyed the order.

Fortunately, most of my escort were Ascan’s subordinates, so the change felt natural. Disguising ourselves as the Adel Trading Company proceeded without a hitch.

As we neared the village, I covered my face with gauze to conceal my identity. I shed my elegant dress and disguised myself as Ascan’s personal maid.

Seeing me like this, Ascan wore a strangely conflicted expression.

“You as a maid… I still can’t get used to it.”

“Should you be speaking so politely to a maid, Master?”

I committed fully to the role. Ascan’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, then he wrinkled his eyes and laughed as if he couldn’t help himself.

Playing the teasing master, he grasped my wrist and whispered in a suggestive tone,

“If you were truly my maid, I’d have you completely under my control.”

“So you’re saying I’m not right now?”

Amused by my unusual tone, Ascan’s expression turned peculiar. He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower as he whispered into my ear,

“Obviously not. Do you really think you could’ve left bed after just three days?”

His sexy voice made my ears burn instinctively. Covering them with my palms, I shot him a look of exasperation.

He smiled, eyes crinkling in a way that could charm anyone, then carefully retied my slipping gauze and added,

“There’ll be plenty of men flirting with a pretty maid. So never reveal your face when I’m not around.”

“Understood.”

Fully prepared, our procession—now perfectly disguised as the Adel Trading Company—entered the village where Harrison lived.

The sudden influx of people prompted the village elder, the mayor, to appear.

“To what do we owe the honor of so many visitors?”

“We’re considering supplying foodstuffs to this village and came to survey the area. We’d like to assess the population and local geography for business purposes.”

Ascan answered with remarkable ease. He didn’t look like someone lying—in part because he truly was the owner of the Adel Trading Company.

This quiet village, with its small population, rarely received diverse goods.

The mayor’s face brightened at the prospect of a new trading company.

“Welcome! Feel free to look around, and if you need anything, just ask.”

“We will. Thank you for your cooperation.”

News of our arrival spread instantly through the small village.

The prospect of new food supplies meant villagers could finally access fish and vegetables previously hard to obtain—making our visit a joyful event.

We decided to lodge at the largest inn in the village.

Since we were supposedly surveying for business, Ascan naturally mingled with locals, asking various questions. I, disguised as his attendant maid, listened quietly from behind.

After some time discussing trade, Ascan casually asked,

“Who lives in that residence over there?”

The house he pointed to was Harrison’s. We already knew this from Orland’s letter.

The villager he spoke to glanced toward Harrison’s house and replied,

“Ah, that’s where a gentleman who retired after serving as a butler for a noble family in the capital now lives. He’s a very dignified man.”

“Is that so? No wonder the house looks so refined.”

Compared to surrounding buildings, Harrison’s residence was unusually clean. With the substantial retirement funds he’d earned as a butler, acquiring such a house wouldn’t have been difficult.

Encouraged by Ascan’s comment, the villager absentmindedly shared more.

“It probably looks newer than other buildings because he built it himself after moving here.”

Instantly, Ascan’s eyes gleamed.

“You mean he didn’t move into an existing house—he bought land and built it himself?”

“Yes. Everyone remembers the noise from construction when he first arrived. He invested so much care that the building process took quite a while.”

“I see.”

Ascan continued the conversation casually, but as soon as they parted ways, he immediately called Carlton and gave orders.

“Find the architect who designed that house or any laborers who worked on its construction. Even if they’re not from this village, they can’t be far.”

Harrison wasn’t nobility. If he built the house himself, he likely hired local contractors or specialists.

Carlton promptly bowed his head in reply.

“Understood, Captain.”

I stood slightly apart, observing the two of them.

Then—

Thud!

Suddenly, someone rushed forward and roughly grabbed my wrist. Startled, I turned my head.

The person was a middle-aged woman, hair wildly disheveled, appearing to be in her 40s or 50s—someone I’d never seen before.

“Angela! You’re Angela, aren’t you?”

Angela?

The name the woman shouted was unfamiliar.

I stared at her, baffled. But before I could respond, she reached toward the gauze covering my face—

as if determined to confirm my identity by seeing my face directly.

The situation unfolded so suddenly that I instinctively stepped back in alarm.

Thwack!

Ascan had already appeared before me. He blocked the woman’s hand and stood firmly between us, preventing her from approaching me further.

In a dangerously low voice, he said,

“What are you doing to my maid?”