Bill had devoted his entire life to the Schmaikel family. He couldn't tolerate even the slightest blemish on its reputation.
That was what blinded the butler. He only placed his trust in something after rigorously verifying it beyond doubt.
"Don't you think that rumor might have been spread falsely?"
"Master. If I may be so bold, this isn't some slipshod investigation."
Bill answered with utmost seriousness.
"We cross-verified multiple times with the servants from the Vicander family. The rumors Lady Jessica gathered from high society match as well."
"Rumors can be fabricated at will. Especially if a group conspires with malice."
Bill listened silently to my words, his face showing he wasn't convinced.
"Rose Vicander isn't the type for that, nor does she have any reason to be."
"..."
"I guarantee it. I studied with her at the Academy."
Only then did Bill's expression soften slightly.
"Have you met Madam in person?"
Of course, today was the first time we'd actually met.
But I possessed all the memories from Rose's previous life and her second one. That was no different from having met her.
"Of course. I know exactly what kind of person she is."
I answered with deliberate emphasis.
"So if you treat the Duchess rudely based solely on those rumors, I won't forgive you."
"..."
"Acting with the same intent as at that welcome ceremony earlier—this will be the last time. Understood?"
"I'm sorry, Your Grace."
Bill bowed deeply, looking chastened. He finally seemed to grasp my intent.
"There won't be any incidents like today. I'll keep it in mind."
"Good. From now on, treat the Duchess the same way you treat me."
"That's impossible. The one I truly serve with all my heart is only you, Master."
"Bill."
I tsked lowly in reprimand, but Bill shook his head with firm resolve.
"I understand your will, Master. However..."
"However?"
"I have a duty to serve as your eyes and ears. Please allow me at least that."
In other words, there wouldn't be any more tests like today. But he'd observe her a bit more before fully trusting her.
'Typical Bill.'
He was so rigid he lacked any flexibility, but that was also his greatest strength. Rather than block it outright, it was the master's duty to make clever use of it.
"Do that, then. Report everything that comes to your eyes and ears."
"Of course."
Behind the straightforwardly replying Bill stood the head chef Fabri, waiting quietly.
"Your Grace."
He'd waited patiently, but now he was fidgeting all over, at his limit.
"Are the preparations in order?"
"Of course. However..."
Fabri's forehead was slick with sweat.
The cold climate of Schmaikel Territory didn't lend itself to sweating. The fact that he was sweating meant it wasn't from the heat.
"I'm just anxious whether it's really all right to do this."
"Don't you trust me?"
"As if I wouldn't!"
Fabri yelped, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.
"Your Grace, I've worked in this castle for over ten years. I've served seven wives from central noble houses, so I know their food culture well."
"What's your point?"
"Can we really serve 'that' to Madam? I prepared it on your orders, but I'm worried."
"Don't worry."
"Aigoo..."
At my curt reply, Fabri just groaned. He clearly wanted to complain more, but my sharp demeanor made him give up.
"Enough. Go make the preparations."
"Your Grace, I've warned you in advance. If things go wrong, it's not on me."
"What do you mean 'not on you'? You prepared it."
"You're too much..."
Fabri trudged away with a dejected face.
A man twice my age and built like a mountain, with his shoulders slumped—it was as pitiful a sight as any.
I turned my head away from his sorry retreating figure.
"Madam hasn't arrived yet?"
"I heard she's just left her room."
As Bill's reply ended,
"Madam has arrived."
The servant standing at the dining hall entrance announced Rose's arrival.
Creak.
The dining hall door opened, and Rose appeared, standing there with an awkward expression. She was wearing a different dress from the one she'd arrived in.
'That dress is probably on its way to the incinerator by now.'
Bill was the type to keep his word once spoken.
As the saying goes, fine feathers make fine birds—she looked far more vibrant now. At least she no longer resembled a wilted rose.
'Did they do something to her face?'
Her face was the same as before, but it now had a subtle glow of vitality. Her disheveled hair had been neatly tidied as well. It seemed the maids had helped with her primping.
Rose fiddled awkwardly with her dress here and there, as if unaccustomed to it,
"Ah."
She spotted me seated at the end of the table and opened her mouth in surprise.
'He's really here?'
That was the expression on her face.
But unlike our first meeting, she didn't hesitate for long. After freezing for a moment, Rose began to walk over.
"This way."
Guided by the servant, Rose sat in the chair opposite me. She glanced awkwardly around before meeting my gaze.
"You weren't... waiting for me, were you?"
"I was."
"Sorry."
Rose's face immediately darkened.
Here we go again. Acting like an apology machine that spits out "sorry" on autopilot.
"Is apologizing a habit for you, Madam?"
"Well,"
"Only apologize when you've truly done something wrong."
Rose stared at me intently, as if she'd never expected that from me. Her eyes said she couldn't believe I'd said it.
At length, Rose mumbled,
"I really... didn't think you'd be in the dining room."
"I keep my word once it's spoken."
"You're that kind of person..."
It was a whisper as faint as a sigh. Her voice was so soft I nearly missed it, but I heard it clearly.
'Haven't I passed the age where I need someone else here to eat?'
After saying that in the novel, Dane Schmaikel never once dined with Rose. He'd have food brought to his office, or when he felt like it, he'd go to the dining hall and eat simply by himself.
A man who kept his every word. For such a man to actually wait for her in the dining hall—it was only natural that Rose was surprised.
"I plan to take dinner in the dining hall from now on."
"Yes? Yes."
"Meaning we'll dine together every day."
"Yesss?"
Rose sharply drew in her breath, but I ignored it and raised one hand.
"Serve the meal."
The hitherto quiet dining hall suddenly bustled. Plates were carried onto carts, and servants began pushing them over.
"Your Grace, what you just said..."
Rose sent me a look demanding a detailed explanation, but
"Ahem."
She froze as the head chef Fabri, who had been waiting a few steps away, approached.
"It's an honor to serve Madam's first meal."
"Fa... um, yes."
'Did she almost say his name just now?'
I pretended not to hear and introduced Fabri.
"This is Fabri. He serves as the head chef for the Schmaikel family."
"Yes. My main duty is making sure Your Grace—who has such picky tastes—doesn't collapse..."
"No need to mention that."
"If not now, there won't be another chan..."
Shh.
I raised my hand to silence Fabri, who was venting his personal feelings.
"Focus on attending to Madam today. I'll eat on my own."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Clink.
Fabri picked up a plate from the cart. Then he slyly glanced my way.
'He's really going to do it?'
I understood his reaction. I knew Fabri was timid despite his massive build.
Still, his constant questions were starting to wear on my patience.
'Now.'
I furrowed my brow and shot him a look, and Fabri scurried off to Rose's side. He quickly placed the plate on her table.
"This is...?"
Rose's eyes widened as she inspected the food.
It was an appetizing soup packed with potatoes, carrots, and plenty of meat.
"Northern Stew Soup. Stir-fried with pork fatback for extra flavor. Nothing beats it as an appetizer."
Fabri answered, struggling to hide his tension.
It was called soup only in name—it was really closer to a thick, chunky meat stir-fry.
Schmaikel Territory in the north was cold and dry, ill-suited for farming. That was why meat-heavy dishes like this had developed.
Above all, what set this soup apart from ordinary ones was that no steam rose from it at all.
In other words, it was completely cold.
"..."
Rose stared piercingly at the soup bowl, her expression inscrutable.
Gulp.
Fabri's Adam's apple bobbed.
When he'd served this soup to the previous madams,
'Is this what you call food?'
The first had scolded Fabri harshly,
'Are you mocking me right now? My goodness, cold soup! I've never seen the like.'
The second had been appalled,
'Fetch Your Grace at once! How can we allow a chef who serves such fare in the castle?'
And the third had been furious.
When those words were relayed to me, I'd snorted in derision.
'Let her starve.'
Fabri couldn't bear to see anyone go hungry or food go to waste. From then on, the madams received bland mushroom soup or plain cream soup.
It was truly regrettable.
This soup had originated in Fabri's active days on the front lines, beating down monsters—when he'd scraped together whatever ingredients he could find.
From that time on, whenever I came to the dining hall, he'd always served this soup. But when he heard I'd be dining with the new madam today, he'd suggested serving something else.
'Shut up and serve that soup.'
Unable to defy my command, he'd ended up making it. All while steeling himself for disdain from the new madam.
The other servants in the dining hall felt the same. Scarred by the previous madams' antics, they had united with Fabri as one.
'Ugh, that precious stuff's going to waste again.'
'Please leave it untouched so we can eat it...'
The servants' pitying gazes darted toward the table.
"..."
Rose blinked a few times, seemingly oblivious,
Shh.
Then she picked up her spoon. And without hesitation, scooped up a spoonful of soup.
"-!"
The atmosphere in the dining hall shifted dramatically at this unforeseen development. A madam had touched the soup for the first time ever.