Michael accompanied Melody throughout the day, attending to her surprisingly few needs. She hardly spoke to him, though he often caught her stealing a glance at him.
He observed quietly from the side, speaking only when necessary, his attention focused on gauging Melody's behavior. With his newfound introspection, he became far more critical than before.
He found it nearly impossible to reconcile the temperament of the young miss with the stories Esther, her previous maid, had shared. The poor woman had looked haggard and had even given him a bundle of parchments, which she referred to as the "Rules for Melody."
This suggested that Melody's behavior had indeed changed, but whether it was due to her feelings for him or an agenda pushed by her parents remained uncertain.
After dinner, Michael bid Melody farewell and was replaced by a maid. It made sense for a woman to take over at night, given their opposite sexes.
Now free from his duties for the day, Michael returned to the servants' quarters, fixing himself a plate of food before retreating to his room. Despite the warm reception he received from the other servants, he wasn't in the mood to socialize.
The scent of braised meat filled the air, stirring his stomach. His thoughts momentarily faded as he gave in to his hunger, savoring the rich flavors of the hearty stew.
The stew barely stood a chance against his appetite, vanishing quickly despite his otherwise somber mood.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression revealing a mix of worry and exhaustion. It was hard to believe that such a young boy could look so burdened, but Michael felt conflicted.
His emotions had been in turmoil since arriving in Whitevalley. From the relief of escaping the wilderness to waking up in the Winterborne estate, where he was offered a place to stay—it had all happened so quickly.
Now, with the added pressure of his new role as Melody's personal butler, his worry deepened.
This was his first direct involvement in noble politics, and he could safely say it wasn't pleasant. Of course, this would only be the case if his suspicions were correct.
But, based on the facts available, he felt confident in his assessment.
Is it really that bad? Michael asked himself, tapping the desk in front of him, deep in thought.
All things considered, even if the Winterbornes had an agenda, neither their goal nor their methods seemed cruel. Not only had they provided him with a well-paying job, but they also planned to tutor him and sponsor his admission to Arcadia Academy.
If this were a purely transactional arrangement, would he have reacted so strongly?
As Michael pondered this, he realized that it wasn't such a bad deal after all. What had truly affected him was the lord and lady's secrecy about their intentions.
But, he thought, this was how nobles operated. Political marriages were often veiled in flowery lies, meant to soften the reality for those involved. In the end, it was just a means to an end.
Michael let out a long sigh, a small chuckle escaping his lips.
He had thought he was no longer naive, but it was clear he had been wrong. Originally, the lord and lady had seemed like benevolent figures, almost saint-like. Though it had put him on guard at first, part of him had wanted to believe there were still people like that in the world—people like his mother.
There's no one else like Mom… he concluded, a small sense of satisfaction rising within him.
Now that he thought about it, the revelation that these two nobles weren't as benevolent as he had imagined actually put him more at ease. At least now he understood their goal, and he no longer had to remain constantly on guard.
When he considered their plan to marry him into their family, Michael found himself oddly unopposed to it. Disregarding the fact that Melody would be his wife, the Winterbornes held significant power, resources, and connections—things Michael needed if he were to track down his mother's killers.
If I want to find them, I'll need all three, he thought. Their goals align with mine—for now.
Michael leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting upward to the tall ceiling. The quiet moments of reflection had given him the space to sort through his thoughts, leaving him feeling far less stifled.
Even if they plan to marry me into the family, he mused, his gaze hardening, we'll see how things turn out. If, for some reason, our goals stop aligning…
He didn't finish the thought, interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," he called, standing up from his chair.
The door opened to reveal a familiar figure dressed in a black suit and bow tie, a polished cane grasped tightly in one hand. His hazel eyes seemed tired, his skin paler than usual.
"Charles, what brings you here? I thought you were still recovering?" Michael asked politely.
The young man nodded, offering a weak smile. "I am, but I should be fine in a few days," he admitted, stepping forward. Charles waved his hand, and a green book suddenly appeared in his palm, which he held out toward Michael.
A storage ring!? Michael's eyes flicked to the outstretched hand, noting the faint gleam of the otherwise unremarkable ring.
"This book is filled with mana control theory. I want you to study it before our tutoring sessions resume," Charles said, his expression turning serious. "Be careful... If there's anything you don't understand, don't attempt it without my supervision."
Michael took the warning to heart. After what had happened last time, he wasn't about to argue. Nodding, he promised he would study diligently. Just as Charles turned to leave, Michael called out to him.
"Wait, can you tell me about storage rings?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though his curiosity was evident.
"Hmm? I guess so," Charles replied, slightly taken aback. "Tell me what it is you wish to know."