Chapter 202

 

Thus, Amaia found herself watching Iona disguise herself as Carmen inside a carriage with all its windows covered.

 

“...Do you really need to accompany me to such an extent? This feels like a very dangerous choice,” Amaia asked, her voice tinged with worry.

 

It seemed less out of concern for Iona and more for her own safety. After all, if it were revealed that the person she brought along as the Viscountess was not actually Carmen, Amaia’s life would be forfeit on that very day.

 

The bitter irony was that the one who orchestrated all this, Iona, would likely remain unscathed. Iona had both the martial skills and the status to avoid any sudden misfortune.

 

“We haven’t built that level of trust yet, have we?” Iona replied, tossing her long boots under the chair.

 

Even during their journey here, Iona had to adopt a disguise to avoid detection. With a headscarf and plain cotton clothes, she convincingly resembled an ordinary housewife.

 

Still, Amaia didn’t place much trust in her ability to disguise herself.

 

Amaia replied in a firm voice, “You’re worrying unnecessarily. My life is already on the line.”

 

“Your life isn’t only in my hands. Besides, the Viscountess you’re talking about is quite the unpredictable free spirit,” Iona said, raising her eyebrows in mock agreement.

 

Amaia closed her mouth, realizing she had no further arguments. With just that brief rebuttal, she was painfully reminded of the necessity of a stand-in.

 

Carmen, after all, had a history of eloping with her lover. Entrusting her with this critical mission would be foolish at best.

 

Amaia quickly shifted her persuasion tactics. “Your husband will be worried too.”

 

“Well, considering you’re the one who actually caused me harm, it’s a bit rich. Ah, speaking of which, my husband asked me to remind you to be discreet and avoid drawing attention.”

 

“...”

 

“Of course, I’m joking.”

 

Despite Iona’s reassurance, Amaia’s hardened expression remained unchanged. The hostility of someone in power was rarely a pleasant kind of attention.

 

Though it seemed like she had tattled, Iona hadn’t intentionally disclosed Amaia’s actions to Leroy. Quite the contrary, she had done her best to conceal them.

 

After her skirmish with Amaia, Iona’s first priority had been to cover the bruise on her face with makeup. Her preparations paid off, as the results were seamless.

 

The issue arose because Leroy and Iona spent most of their time together.

 

Even as they were about to sleep, Iona insisted on keeping her makeup on, prompting Leroy to grow suspicious.

 

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sleep like that?” he asked.

 

“Um… I’m just too lazy to remove it,” Iona replied nonchalantly, turning to face the other direction.

 

But Leroy didn’t take his eyes off her, noticing the layers of makeup were unusually thick.

 

“In that case, just give me your face; I’ll take care of it,” he said.

 

To her surprise, he wasn’t joking. He actually went to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth.

 

Startled, Iona sat up immediately. She tried to retreat to the head of the bed, but when Leroy blocked her path, she realized she had cornered herself.

 

Trapped between the headboard and Leroy, Iona reluctantly offered her face to him.

 

“You don’t clean makeup like this,” she protested.

 

“If you prefer, I can take you to the bathroom instead,” Leroy replied, ignoring her protests.

 

He seemed to have already suspected what Iona was hiding, and that’s why he pressed her so firmly.

 

Leroy tilted her chin upward, gently wiping her cheek with the cloth. His hand wandered aimlessly at first, but eventually stopped at one spot. His gaze sharpened as he examined the area around her temple.

 

“Ah…”

 

The cloth pressed against her injured spot, and Iona let out an involuntary groan of pain. Leroy immediately pulled his hand back, though his stern gaze remained fixed on her.

 

“Did you get this injury at the Viscount’s manor? Are there any other wounds?”

 

“…I just took a punch for show. Something like a performance,” Iona said, pretending to be tougher than she was.

 

It was a posture often seen in lovers trying to appear strong in front of each other, though their dynamic was a gender-reversed version of that trope.

 

“So that’s why you’ve been obsessively checking your reflection—to hide the injury from me.”

 

“...”

 

“What if I hadn’t noticed? What then?”

 

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this. I didn’t want to worry you.”

 

“If you didn’t want to worry me, you shouldn’t have let yourself get hurt in the first place.”

 

Leroy retorted and stared at her silently for a long time.

 

Did he realize she had hidden the injury precisely because she predicted his reaction?

 

Still, Leroy didn’t scold her further or demand an explanation for the details.

 

Without hesitation, Leroy reached out and pulled Iona into his embrace.

 

As he gently stroked her back, he spoke softly.

 

“Don’t do this again. You don’t need to pretend in front of me the way you do with others.”

 

“I won’t,” Iona replied firmly.

 

“And it would be even better if you didn’t get hurt at all.”

 

“I’ll try my best,” she answered with determination, wanting to ease Leroy’s worries.

 

However, Leroy seemed unconvinced, letting out a small sigh. Resting his chin atop her head, he murmured, “It upsets me.”

 

Somehow, his words embarrassed Iona, who hesitated awkwardly like a broken machine. Summoning her courage, she eventually wrapped her arms around his back in return.

 

The warmth they exchanged through their embrace seemed to convey an unspoken understanding and deep emotions. Neither Leroy nor Iona let go for quite a while, prolonging the moment.

 

Feeling relief that things had gone better than expected, Iona let out a quiet breath. Leroy, however, looked at her with a gentle smile.

 

And then, in an incredibly soft tone, he asked, “So, was the culprit that maid?”

 

Caught off guard by the affection lingering in the air, Iona managed to hold herself together with sheer willpower. She turned her head, pretending ignorance, and replied, “Who knows?”

 

It was a feeble attempt at feigning ignorance, but at least she hadn’t directly thrown Amaia under the bus.

 

Leroy didn’t press the matter, seemingly uninterested in forcing Iona to reveal something she didn’t wish to. Still, the strange smile on his face carried a faintly ominous undertone.

 

‘Of course, he won’t just let this go.’

 

Iona had no intention of stopping Leroy’s private revenge, should it come to that. While she had temporarily set aside her personal grudge for the sake of cooperation, the spot where Amaia had hit her still hurt.

 

If Amaia dared to argue that she had suffered worse, she wouldn’t have much to counter with.

 

****

 

“How do I look? Pretty convincing, right?”

 

Iona, now fully dressed, asked as she pulled the black veil over her head.

 

Today’s outfit was a loose-fitting black dress that concealed her figure, effectively disguising the differences between her body and Carmen’s. The thick, black veil paired with the mourning attire made her stand out even less.

 

Amaia, who had been silently watching her disguise herself, finally admitted begrudgingly, “...You’re convincing.”

 

“Right?” Iona responded lightly, taking a seat and pulling back the curtain on the carriage window.

 

Fortunately, it seemed they were ready in time, as the carriage was nearing its destination.

 

The meeting place was a warehouse far from the city center.

 

“Do people usually meet in places like this?” Iona asked, her tone skeptical.

 

“I haven’t met them in person myself. The management has changed since I was in Bardem." 

 

“What did you do in Bardem?”

 

“I handled several people who were... inconvenient to Her Majesty the Empress or her brother.”

 

“I’m curious how you got involved in such dangerous work."

 

“Once I took on one job, I couldn’t back out. Besides, the pay was good.” 

 

Amaia rose from her seat as the carriage came to a halt in front of a small makeshift building.

--- End Of The Chapter ----

 

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