“Oh my, why do you keep kneeling? I’m just an old woman—even if you’ve come to deliver the Dowager’s message, there’s no need for this.”
“No, ma’am. Janna’s words are like the Dowager’s own, so I must show proper respect.”
Janna’s smile deepened at the reply, which felt as blunt as if it had been smashed by a swinging fist.
Fool.
That nickname really suited Izuli well.
Janna thoroughly enjoyed putting Izuli in her place like this.
Though Janna was born a commoner with no special skills, she’d risen in status by following the young lady she served, who’d married into a marquis’s family. At first, she’d been overjoyed as if in a dream, but soon woke up to harsh reality. Even though the marquisate wasn’t well-off, most of its servants were from minor noble families. Janna knew they were polite only to her face, while behind her back they looked down on her background and gossiped cruelly. From then on, her resentment toward nobles grew steadily, but she had no way to vent it—until Izuli appeared.
Izuli was a young lady of the Mentria Dukedom, a founding hero’s house with a history twice as long as the marquisate’s, dating back to the former imperial dynasty. Though she was an unloved outcast in her own family, she still carried the air of a high-ranking noble. Janna took out her resentment by trampling on Izuli and making her kneel.
“Ma’am Janna… But Kalyon hasn’t fully recovered yet. Could Selly look after him while I pay my morning respects to the Dowager tomorrow?”
Janna’s expression gradually hardened at the cautious question.
“Lady, have you forgotten you’re the Marchioness? And the state of the marquisate? The servants are all busy—they don’t have as much free time as you do.”
“Of course I know, but…”
“No ‘buts.’ Selly has work tomorrow, so you’ll have to handle it yourself.”
Janna turned away with a scoff.
“Please take care on your way back, Ma’am Janna.”
Izuli’s voice from behind got no response.
Watching Janna’s imposing back recede, Izuli silently licked her lips.
After cursing to her heart’s content, she returned to the bedroom to find Ricardo had changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes.
“Who was here?”
“Ma’am Janna.”
Only after answering did she remember his memory wasn’t fully intact, so she added, “She’s the Dowager’s nanny.”
“Oh, right.”
Though he had no idea, Ricardo awkwardly pretended to recall.
“What did she want?”
“Nothing important.”
Since the morning respects had nothing to do with him, Izuli brushed it off casually.
If I have to leave two hours earlier, I’ll need to get up at 4 a.m.
Letting out a short sigh, Izuli burrowed into bed.
Ricardo stood beside her, watching.
A few hours after possessing his body, his hearing and eyesight were gradually returning to normal. As a Sword Master, he had better physical abilities than ordinary people—though the body wasn’t his, the aura came from the soul, not the flesh, so this was possible. In short, he’d heard every word of the earlier conversation; even without seeing, he could tell Izuli had knelt.
Yet when she’d returned, she’d been calm with no sign of humiliation—just like when she was being picked on by Evelon. Izuli seemed completely used to this married life, but to an outsider like him, the environment was strange and bizarre. Even for a mother-in-law, Evelon’s words and actions were excessive, more like violence than just adjusting to married life. Ricardo couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so uncomfortable.
‘It’s none of my business. I just need to focus on getting back to my original body.’
Trying to convince himself, he headed for the sofa beside the bed—but only after lying down did he question his actions.
‘Why am I lying here?’
He’d done it naturally without knowing why.
“Madam, did I used to sleep here?”
Just as Izuli was about to drift off, she lifted her head to look at the sofa. Seeing him lying there so naturally, she nodded.
“Yes. You didn’t like sleeping with anyone, so you always slept separately like this.”
“So that’s why my body felt like it was following an order to lie here.”
Ricardo looked down at his body as if it were absurd.
“Good night, dear.”
He didn’t mind the lack of response—he was used to it.
Izuli curled up on the bed with her back to the sofa, fidgeting with her clasped hands.
This is strange…
Even if they didn’t share a bed, sleeping in the same room as her husband was familiar. But after sleeping alone for a week, it felt uncomfortable—as if she were in a room with a stranger.
‘It must be just how I feel.’
Dismissing it as trivial, she quickly closed her eyes to rest for the morning respects.
“……Mm.”
A soft voice came just before she fell asleep.
In the pre-dawn darkness, her eyelids fluttered, revealing watercolor-colored eyes. For a long while, Izuli stared at the dark ceiling before closing her eyes and sighing.
It’s already 4 a.m.
She’d fallen asleep early and gotten enough rest, but waking at 4 a.m. was torture. She dragged herself up, belatedly remembering Ricardo and quietly heading to the bathroom. After a quick bath and changing clothes, she walked down the silent corridor to the largest and finest room in the marquisate—the one that had belonged to the previous marquis but now was Evelon’s.
Izuli knelt and waited outside.
She knew Janna had deliberately moved up the morning respect time to make things hard for her. Janna wouldn’t even be watching, just sound asleep, but Izuli had no choice but to come.
Thanks to this, I’ve even learned how to doze off while kneeling.
Tired as she was, it was better than making a mistake Evelon could latch onto. Once Evelon found something to criticize, she’d nag about it for a year—maybe even long enough to make her ears bleed.
Izuli placed her hands on her knees and turned to look out the window. In the quiet pre-dawn, only the moon and stars kept her company.
As soon as the door closed, Ricardo’s eyes snapped open. He sat up and listened to Izuli’s careful footsteps fading into the distance.
Is she going to pay her morning respects?
At this hour? He glanced out the dark window, frowning. The clock showed just 4 a.m.
Once her footsteps were no longer audible, he went out. With no one awake, it was easy to follow the faint light. Soon he saw Izuli stop, and he leaned against a corner. At the sound of her kneeling, he peeked out—she was alone in the corridor, kneeling and staring out the window.
Is that what they call a morning respect?
His family had a history of hundreds of years before the dynasty changed, so their etiquette was stricter than most nobles’—but nothing like this. In short, all of this was Evelon’s doing: summoning people before dawn and making them kneel and wait until she woke up.
Ricardo pushed off from the wall and headed to the family archive. Though it was only 100 years old, he hoped to find information on possession. But after hours of searching, he found nothing useful.
‘Getting my aura back is the priority, I suppose.’
He clenched and unclenched his fist, clicking his tongue. He was heading back to his room when he decided to check on Izuli instead—she was still kneeling in the same position he’d last seen her in. His face twisted involuntarily.
Just then, a small chime marked 7 a.m., and the door next to them opened. Janna came out yawning.
“Oh my, lady—you’re already here for your respects?”
“Ma’am Janna.”
Izuli greeted her with a faint smile.
“Ah, right! You were supposed to come two hours earlier today. I completely forgot and overslept.”
“It’s alright—you must be tired.”
Ricardo listened to their conversation. Seeing Izuli only looked a bit tired, with no sign of irritation or anger, Janna seemed disappointed as she walked toward Evelon’s room.
