Navia interrupted their small talk when there was a brief pause.
She asked Margaret.
"Is Duke Eseled awake by any chance? I have something to tell him."
"Um. He's not someone who sticks to a precise schedule. And if there's nothing special, he doesn't come down from the third floor."
"Oh……. Then would it be alright for me to visit his bedroom?"
At that, Margaret looked troubled.
"It's difficult to access the third floor since only certain people are allowed."
After saying that, Margaret hurriedly added an explanation, sensing Navia's feeling of exclusion.
"Anyone not permitted by the lord to enter the third floor triggers a trick magic. So, um."
'I'm going to die.'
Navia instantly understood what Margaret struggled to explain clearly.
Minerva, who had been quiet until then, quickly joined in.
"I…… Then let me check if the master is awake. I was just about to bring some medicine, ah."
Minerva, realizing her slip of the tongue, quickly rolled her eyes.
'Medicine? Oh, is she talking about anesthesia?'
Navia had already guessed that there was something about the anesthesia.
'Surely it's not made from drugs…….'
His pupils weren't dilated, at least.
Navia deftly changed the subject to help the flustered Minerva.
"Then since I can't visit him directly…… may I send a letter?"
"A letter?"
Everyone was visibly taken aback by this unexpected alternative.
A letter to Lark, of all people.
'It must be his first letter.'
With that thought, Suleiman spoke up.
"Then I'll deliver the letter."
They were all excited by the incredible idea of writing a letter to Lark.
It was already a remarkable deviation that Lark had accepted Navia as a guest.
'It's been 10 years.'
The ink, pen, and paper were quickly set on the table after dinner.
Navia wrote the letter swiftly, then put down the pen.
"I'm done."
The speed of her writing, the accuracy of never crossing out a line, even the perfect regular spacing and elegant handwriting at a glance.
"My goodness."
They all couldn't help but continuously express their admiration.
"Is Miss Navia a genius?"
At Margaret's serious question, Navia laughed softly.
"Not at all."
'I've just lived longer than others and written a lot.'
Moreover, being called a genius just for writing a clean letter.
Navia thought Margaret was particularly good at encouraging children.
But Suleiman and Margaret didn't think it was that simple.
'Really…… there's nothing ordinary about her.'
Navia was a child groomed by the cunning Nikan Agnes to become an empress.
Considering she was trained to that extent in just one year, the process must have been incredibly harsh.
Suleiman suddenly felt something was odd.
'Nikan gave up the adopted daughter he brought in to betroth to Prince Ares too easily.'
In his view, it was clear Nikan would never find another child like her.
Navia was one of a kind.
'Nikan must know that too.'
Besides being astute, Navia naturally exuded dignity and grace even when injured.
Her slightly unnatural movements due to bandages were still more graceful than debutantes who had their debutante balls.
"Here, my lord."
Suleiman suddenly said as he received the neatly folded letter from Navia.
"But why do I have to be addressed as 'my lord'?"
"......Yes?"
"Call me Suleiman."
Navia, with a slightly less hesitant expression than before, spoke more easily.
"Uh... Yes. Suleiman, sir."
Why does it feel so awkward just to call him by his name?
Suleiman couldn't hide his delight when Navia called him by his name and burst into a satisfied laughter.
"Hmm. Is this what it feels like to have a child in the house?"
He had somehow forgotten that he was in the midst of rejecting Navia and happily laughed while tucking the letter into his chest.
"Then I will definitely pass it on."
***
Meanwhile, Suleiman knocked on Lark's bedroom door since the morning. Despite the bright sunlight outside, Lark's bedroom was dark like the night, except for a thin beam of light.
"Master!"
Suleiman called Lark in a more lively voice than usual.
Lark, lying on a long sofa, raised his head slightly, wrinkling his forehead.
"What is it?"
"I have something important to tell you."
Suleiman took out the letter from his jacket pocket and handed it over.
"It's a letter."
Lark glanced at the letter Suleiman was offering him without much interest.
What the hell does he want?
That was the expression on his face.
"It's a letter from Miss Navia to you. Please read it."
"Oh, her again."
Lark raised his head slightly, covering his face with his hand, and leaned back on the sofa.
"Just burn it."
"Pardon?"
Suleiman, who would normally have taken such a comment in stride, reacted sensitively to those seemingly natural words.
Burn the letter that was written so desperately with her injured hands.
However, it was difficult to resist Lark's words.
After contemplating for a moment, Suleiman unfolded the letter and gently placed it on the nearby marble table, pushing away the medicine bottles on it.
The brightly colored letter on the black table stood out like the moon in the night sky.
"Well, I will go out then."
Thud.
A beam of light poured into the room for a moment before darkness returned.
Lark remained silent for a while, his arms covering his eyes, as if time had stopped inside the room.
He shouldn't feel anything, but the letter that Suleiman left behind continued to bother him.
Eventually, Lark nervously got up.
"Sigh...."
He let out a deep sigh and massaged his temples.
"What's wrong with that Suleiman suddenly acting so jubilant?"
As soon as he flicked his finger, the black curtains that covered the window were lifted, and bright light poured in.
Lark picked up the letter from the table.
Lark glanced at the letter with a slightly disgruntled expression.
The handwriting was perfect, like that of a master.
Still frowning, he read the letter. His overall impression after reading it was:
"Heh."
A short, hollow laugh. That was his general comment on the contents of the letter.
"So she wants to be received as a guest and even asks for a job?"
She must be out of her mind.
Lark crumpled the letter.
He had thought about setting it on fire, but instead, he simply threw it onto the floor.
‘Then I'll wait for a reply.’
"I'm the one who's really losing it."
As he brushed his hand over the table, a piece of paper, an inkwell, and a pen appeared.
In stark contrast to Navia's beautifully written letter, he scribbled a messy reply.
And...
"Suleiman!"
Just by calling Suleiman's name in a not very loud voice, the bedroom door swung open.
"Yes, my lord."
Suleiman entered the room with a shameless expression, as if he had been waiting.
"Deliver this."
"Understood."
Although Suleiman tried to look serious, his excited appearance couldn't be hidden.
"Damn."
Lark finally thought that this garbage dump had completely gone mad and lay down on the sofa.
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