Episode 57

The rumor spread fast.

So fast that even Gloria Deveres, busy raising three kids, had heard of it.

No one dared speak of it in front of the duchess, nor said anything within her earshot—but there wasn’t a soul unaware of the breathtakingly beautiful mistress the duchess had supposedly taken in.

“Marcus! Did you hear the rumor?”

Bam. The door burst open as his sister stormed in. Marcus lay in bed, groaning with a hangover, clutching his head. But Gloria, unconcerned with his misery, babbled away.

“The Duchess has taken a mistress!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Duchess of Bellona, that woman. She’s been keeping out of scandal for a while, and now—my God! So much for the nickname the vixen of the century going out of style!”

Marcus slowly lifted his head from the pillow. Gloria launched into the gossip without skipping a beat. According to the Queen, who had sent her maid to investigate, there was a stunning beauty strutting through the duchess’s townhouse with her breasts out in the open.

That, people said, was why the duchess wasn’t inviting guests over. Why she hadn’t brought any artists by. She was too busy showing her pretty little mistress around the capital.

“…That’s the most ridiculous—”

“When has that woman not done something ridiculous? The Queen told me herself yesterday!”

“…She told you personally?”

“Yes! I thought everyone in society knew except poor old me, stuck at home with kids, barely knowing if the sun’s up or down. But turns out it’s you who’s out of the loop!”

Gloria cackled. Marcus, well familiar with the gossip-loving Queen’s nature, tried to shake his head but winced from the hangover.

Regardless, Gloria kept on.

“Apparently, a maid came face to face with the woman—and said she’s never seen such blonde hair before. She looked very young too. The talk is, she’s some clueless little country beauty the duchess seduced and brought home. And those eyes—blue like a lake…”

At that moment, Marcus shot up and stared at her.

“What did you say?”

“Hmm?”

“What did she look like?”

“What? Blonde hair, blue eyes—”

And then Gloria witnessed a miracle: the hopeless drunk who’d been groaning a minute ago now sprang out of bed without a care for his hangover and stormed out.

Even a cripple rising from a wheelchair might not have surprised her more. Stunned, Gloria sat there for a beat—only to realize she’d just been abandoned. She cursed him furiously, but Marcus couldn’t have cared less.

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“So what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Climb the wall.”

“Have you lost your mind? A commoner climbing over a noble’s estate wall? That’s a death sentence!”

Logan shouted in disbelief. His young master, who had emptied a whole bottle of whiskey by dawn and seemed unlikely to rise until evening, had suddenly barged in smelling of liquor, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him out.

They now stood before the Duchess of Bellona’s townhouse—specifically, at the secluded back wall.

Logan had heard the duchess was in the capital, of course. He’d even seen her from afar once while following Marcus into the palace. But being ordered to scale her wall? Never in his wildest dreams.

He turned toward Marcus to protest—only to fall silent in shock. Marcus was already sizing up the wall, preparing to climb it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’ve lost your mind. You’re not even a noble!”

“His Majesty will smooth it over somehow.”

Logan gaped. He suspected Marcus had fallen for the duchess again—and didn’t hesitate to say so.

Marcus’s eyes flashed.

“What do you take me for?”

“A rake who played the role of a reformed man for the last three years?”

“Logan!”

“Alright, alright. But at least tell me why!”

Marcus took a breath and calmly said,

“It might be Juliet.”

Calm it may have sounded, but the explanation was anything but. After a few more exasperated demands, Marcus finally explained that there was talk of a young mistress in the duchess’s house, a blonde girl with blue eyes. Logan frowned.

“But the young lady hated the duchess. What would she be doing here…?”

“I know. But Logan—just a few days ago, I realized Bellona’s territory is the one place we never searched. And now, I hear of a stunning young blonde with lake-blue eyes living in her townhouse.”

“…”

“Logan. Please. Just let me check.”

“Why not just request a formal visit—”

“You think she’d let me in? That woman spent the entire meeting smirking at every word I said!”

Logan made up his mind to help.

Not because of the reason Marcus gave—but because it had been so long since he’d seen Marcus this driven, this alive. Even if it meant scaling the wall of the kingdom’s most powerful duchess and possibly losing their heads.

And so, the capital’s most competent secretary found himself in the humiliating position of bracing his master’s backside for a wall climb.

“…If you die, I doubt Lord Archibald will bother writing me a letter of recommendation…”

Logan muttered, groaning under Marcus’s weight. The latter, climbing with desperation, replied:

“Don’t worry. My sister likes you. That family has three great sons.”

“Oh God. Please, just survive. I’d rather die on the gallows than be tied into that household.”

Marcus chuckled—a rare sound these days.

Logan sighed and lifted him higher. Just yesterday, Marcus had acted like the world was ending. Now, with just a flicker of hope, he was lighting up.

Marcus scrambled up the wall, sweat beading on his forehead. The duchess’s walls were made of round stones, and his shoes kept slipping. The wall was just tall enough—twice the height of a grown man—to make it grueling.

He was nearly at the top when it happened. Just a few more inches to go, and he looked up—only to freeze.

A small hand appeared from the other side of the wall.

Marcus flinched. Had Logan not been supporting him, he might’ve slipped. The delicate hand gripped the edge, then another hand appeared—and then, pop.

A head of gleaming golden hair rose into view. And next, a pair of eyes—blue and clear as a lake.

Marcus blinked.

That face, which he never believed he'd find here, was just inches above him, staring down in wide-eyed disbelief.

She looked a little different—older—but only slightly. Marcus could never fail to recognize that face.

Her once-chubby cheeks had slimmed into freshness. Her round, glittering eyes were locked on him. Her pink lips parted, and finally—

“…Marcus Hanger?”

Marcus clenched his jaw, still hanging from the wall.

He had to. Otherwise, the tears would fall.

It was Juliet.

That soft, sweet little voice calling his name—Logan heard it too. He almost lost his balance, but caught himself in time. His reputation as the kingdom’s finest secretary remained intact. But when Juliet effortlessly perched herself atop the wall, Logan nearly passed out.

Juliet was no longer the fourteen-year-old he remembered. She was now seventeen.

She wore a dirt-stained nightgown—loose and torn at the bottom. And there she was, crouched atop the wall, her white thighs fully exposed. Logan debated whether to cover his eyes but ultimately dropped his head. He couldn’t keep looking up.

Then he remembered his master, currently perched on his shoulders. Thankfully, Marcus had some sense. Surely, he’d throw his jacket over the girl’s legs.

But Marcus betrayed all expectations.

“Oh. Marcus Hanger’s crying.”

“…”

Logan immediately forgot every rational thought he’d had and snapped his eyes upward.

Marcus was hanging from the wall, so Logan couldn’t see his face. But Juliet’s round eyes confirmed it as she declared again, loud and clear—

“You’re crying!”

“…Juliet…”

The man couldn’t even say her name properly. His voice was soaked.

“Marcus Hanger’s crying?? Why are you crying???”

Logan didn’t know what to say, so he just gripped Marcus’s legs tighter. People lost strength when they cried.

He needed to keep his master from falling headfirst off a wall.

“You’re crying!”

Of course, things didn’t go the way Logan wanted.

Juliet’s face crumpled, too.

And sitting on the wall, she burst into tears.

At that point, Logan seriously began to reconsider his career path. Helping a noble sneak into a duchess’s estate, causing a barely dressed girl to cry in public—if anyone saw this, could he still call himself the capital’s top secretary?

He wasn’t sure anymore.

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