The Villainess Proposed a Contractual Marriage

Chapter 68: The Thirsty Villainess

The time soon came when Elphisia began treating Harte almost like a newborn.

"Cough!"

The ever-dignified Duchess Luminel spat out the tea she had just sipped. As a result, the documents on her desk were stained with a greenish hue, and an unfamiliar sense of shame washed over her.

"A-Are you alright, Duchess?"

"Does this look alright to you? I've never tasted such bitter tea in my life."

Elphisia wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, visibly irritated. Harte, on the other hand, carefully avoided her threatening gaze.

This only annoyed her further, prompting her to ask harshly:

"So, why did you lie about knowing how to brew tea?"

"Well, not exactly knowing... I just said I'd tried making it before..."

Harte dipped his finger in the spilled tea on the desk. Then, naturally bringing it to his mouth, he sucked on it as if savoring the taste.

"Isn't this how it's supposed to taste...?"

"You... you...!!!"

Elphisia's face turned bright red. It was a color thoroughly mixed with anger and humiliation.

Understandably so, as the spilled tea on the desk was no different from Elphisia's saliva. From her perspective, it was beyond an indirect kiss - more like an indirect French kiss. Yet Harte, oblivious to the issue, was merely observing Elphisia's reaction.

"Get out right now!!!"

Thwack!

Enraged, Elphisia kicked Harte's shin with her shoe. However, Harte only slightly winced at the unexpected blow. His reaction, like being brushed by a mosquito, further fueled Elphisia's anger.

"Huff... huff... haah..."

Elphisia, unaware that the hem of her wet dress was damp, leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face.

"Damn it... How can someone be so clueless?"

It had been a while since her emotions had been stirred so intensely.

It seemed she had made a mistake in drafting the contract. She should have restrained her greed and simply had him perform as a jester before sending him back.

At this moment, she truly regretted her decision.

---

---

Harte, who had been kicked out without realizing his mistake, wandered the corridor. Since his duty was to serve, he limited his roaming to a radius from which he could easily return.

During his walk, he encountered a hooded man in the hallway.

The hood was pulled so low that Harte could barely make out the man's black hair. At first, he considered subduing the suspicious figure, but the man's confident stride made him hesitate. It proved to be the right decision.

The man soon spoke with a youthful voice.

"I heard the Duchess shouting."

"Indeed. I wonder if she's too stressed..."

The hooded man nodded in agreement to Harte's near-soliloquy.

"... In a sense, you might not be wrong."

"Oh? You seem to know the Duchess well?"

"I've served her for... quite some time."

"Ah, I see."

Harte sized up the man. He was certain the man was a highly skilled knight.

The man had a habit of suppressing his presence at every moment. He also strained to listen to sounds over a wide range. This level of skill was impossible to achieve through ordinary training.

Of course, for Harte, it was merely impressive enough to merit a single moment of admiration. So he spoke casually:

"If you've served her for long, you must know her well? Could you tell me what she likes?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm..."

As Harte hummed subtly, the man added, as if to excuse himself:

"... But it seems unnecessary to try to win her favor."

"Huh? Why?"

"It's been a very long time since the Duchess showed such human emotions. I think this change is somewhat positive."

"Positive or not, I still got hit."

"..."

The young man said nothing more. He simply bowed his head deeply, still hidden under his hood, and went on his way.

'Is he one of those shadow guards that high nobles often employ?'

Even at a glance, he was different from the Sword King Unit, the official knightly order of the ducal house. The sense of not fitting in with the group and his disproportionate level of prayer were telling signs. Harte only inferred this much before dismissing the thought.

More important than the existence of a shadow guard was Elphisia's mood.

If the recent conversation was true, it should be safe to return and resume his duties. Thus, Harte's steps led him back to the Duchess's office.

It wasn't long before Harte received a slap from Elphisia.

The reason was that he had shaken a duster directly above Elphisia's head.

Their rocky first day ended like that.

---

---

About two weeks had passed since then.

Elphisia gazed at the setting sun, thinking of Harte. That clueless fool...

'Just how sheltered does one have to be to know so little?'

Truly, he was a specimen of human uselessness. And Elphisia's assessment was entirely justified.

Just as she thought, Harte had indeed grown up in an unexpectedly comfortable environment.

Cleaning was done by the temple's employees, as were cooking and tea preparation. Moreover, as the bearer of a baptismal name, he never got dirty or even injured.

In fact, all Harte knew how to do was recite scriptures and change his own clothes.

At this point, he had been raised more delicately than most noble heirs.

'The temple's educational policy must have gone seriously awry.'

Over thirty years old, yet barely human. The implications were clear and simple. It was undeniable proof that they had essentially raised a child through neglect.

At this rate, she might end up making a proper person out of Harte herself.

It felt like experiencing childcare for the first time, with no prior experience.

As Elphisia was lost in thought, the oblivious man with his perpetual grin once again arrived to fulfill his contract.

"Hello, Duchess. I'm here."

"... Right."

Elphisia looked as if she had a rough stone stuck to the roof of her mouth. Despite having the commander of the Holy Knight Order at her beck and call, she felt no joy. Not even a hint of satisfaction.

"You're busy as always, Duchess. How long does it take to go through all these documents?"

"A day."

"My goodness, you can't just skim through them. What if you fall for some terribly unfair contract?"

"... Are you really one to talk? About that?"

"Pardon?"

"No, nevermind... You might actually be right about that."

To put it bluntly... this man was annoying. Overwhelmingly so.

To properly suppress both the climbing Askalion and the Empress Dowager's checks, she needed time to focus entirely. Yet recently, she found herself wasting unnecessary time accommodating this man.

So today, Elphisia had resolved to tear up the contract in front of Harte. It would be better for both of them to simply ignore each other. She chided herself for dragging this decision out for two weeks.

"Duchess."

Oblivious to her intentions, Harte smiled his usual good-natured smile.

Elphisia had noticed from the corner of her eye that Harte was busily doing something in the corner. But when she actually faced the results, her expression soured.

"Have some tea while you work. I brewed it myself."

"Are you asking me to drink garbage?"

"Umm... I'm sorry about last time. I thought you just put leaves in hot water, but apparently that's not all there is to it."

One can only imagine how the Divine Dragon Erehite must have fainted upon hearing this anecdote.

It was bad enough that Harte was serving Elphisia, but hearing the tale of how he had served what amounted to trash in the guise of tea nearly caused Erehite to collapse.

Subsequently, Harte underwent intensive training under Erehite's supervision.

For about ten days, the Divine Dragon lamented the temple's lax approach to education.

Finally, Harte reached a point where he felt confident serving tea to others.

"This time will be different. Please, do try it."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because trust brings good fortune."

"What nonsense... Haah, fine."

Elphisia rested her chin on her hand and cut off the conversation.

It was going to be the end of their relationship today anyway.

She could at least wet her lips once and spit it out.

With that mindset, a clear light gradually appeared in Elphisia's eyes.

'... Why is this decent?'

The taste was clean.

While not worthy of praise, it was passable enough to swallow.

As Elphisia set the teacup back on its saucer, Harte cautiously asked for her opinion.

"How is it, Duchess?"

"Hmph."

How should she deliver a scathing review?

While there's been some improvement, it's still far inferior to the dedicated tea maid's work.

"Well..."

The problem lay in the narrowing distance between them.

The expectation brimming on his face felt heavy. Even after a decade of disregarding human emotions, his face was still burdensome. That's why Elphisia's decision wavered at the last moment.

"... It's not bad."

"Really? You mean it?"

At this moment, Elphisia strongly sensed that it would take quite some time to completely erase this moment from her memory.

"Thank goodness...!"

Harte smiled.

Despite having lived the same 32 years, his smile was as pure as a child's.

Elphisia had always dismissed the saying "you can't spit on a smiling face" as someone else's problem. But how about herself now?

Faced with someone genuinely happy for her sake, she found herself unable to tear up the contract.

"... Tch."

Slurp.

For some reason, her throat felt parched, and she hastily gulped down some tea. Seeing this, Harte's eyes sparkled as if overcome with emotion. His violet eyes shone so brightly they seemed to outshine the office's lighting.

'Damn it...'

Slurp.

Elphisia took another sip of tea.

For Elphisia, who had witnessed and countered all sorts of power plays, this was her first truly troublesome opponent.

Ah, her throat was burning.

Because this foolishness was unsightly, because this stupidity was pitiful.

... Her throat kept burning.