By Zephyria 
Bliss, who had been standing quietly and waiting for the butler until then, was finally able to let out a sigh of admiration at the interior of the ancient castle, which was said to be over 300 years old. Perhaps thanks to the touch of a skilled butler, every corner he looked at was impeccably clean and well-organized, without a single speck of dust. The curtains were all tied at the same height, revealing the windows in a uniform manner, and frames of various sizes hung on the walls in an irregular yet seamless arrangement, though some of them remained empty.
Are they planning to change the paintings? Just as he was turning his head, unable to stop marveling at the thought that those frames and paintings likely held long histories, he spotted a massive frame occupying an entire wall above the fireplace. Bliss froze in place, his eyes widening.
Cassian Strickland.
It was that man. The master of the mansion, the reason Bliss had come all the way to England, and the enemy of his family.
The man, with hair nearly black and neatly combed back, was looking straight ahead, leaning on a cane with one hand and resting the other on his hip. He was mimicking the typical posture of old aristocrats, but his three-piece suit and the glasses he wore were so modern that Bliss felt the man’s arrogance even more strongly because of it.
What, is he saying he’s still a high-and-mighty noble even in this era?
Hmph. Bliss bared his teeth, about to throw a metaphorical potato. However, the moment he raised his fist, the door to the drawing room suddenly opened and an elderly woman appeared. The old woman blinked in surprise as she looked at Bliss’s face, then shifted her gaze to the tight fist he was holding. It was as if she were asking what on earth he had been trying to do. Reading her thoughts perfectly, Bliss stealthily raised his other hand and interlaced his fingers.
“Hello, ma’am. I am Blair Carlton, here for the employee interview. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Clasping his hands together as if in prayer, he beamed a bright smile.
“I look forward to working with you.”
An awkward silence descended between them.
*
The drawing room was the embodiment of silence. Penelope, the butler of the Count’s household, who always kept her back straight and scrutinized others with sharp eyes, poured tea into a cup and served it to Bliss.
With disciplined movements that wasted not a single inch and an elegant demeanor that minimized motion, she almost looked as if she were the mistress of the mansion. Of course, she was coldly aware of her own status, and her resolve, that her role was merely to maintain the house for the master and fill the void until the true mistress arrived, had never once wavered.
Maintaining her meticulous attitude as a butler, Penelope scanned the documents before lifting her cold gaze toward the boy sitting opposite her.
“Eighteen years old? Truly?”
To the question filled with doubt, the red-haired boy answered energetically.
“Yes, eighteen!”
Actually, I’m seventeen.
While thinking this to himself, Bliss smiled broadly, pretending everything was normal. There were still a few months left before he reached adulthood, but it didn’t matter. The documents were all fake anyway.
…Surely, she doesn’t know?
Bliss stole a glance at Penelope. The butler’s sharp eyes, which seemed to be picking him apart piece by piece, made cold sweat run down his back, and he felt a desperate urge to run away immediately, but he endured it steadfastly. This was because Cassian Strickland’s massive portrait was right behind the butler.
Hmph, such narcissism.
Even though he was incredibly nervous, seeing that arrogant face sparked a sense of defiance that gave him the strength to hold on. He tried to steady himself by glancing up at the portrait again, but unfortunately, the moment he turned his eyes back, he locked gazes with the butler. Startled, Bliss watched as Penelope raised her reading glasses with a solemn expression and spoke.
“I noticed you’ve been glancing up at the portrait frequently. Why is that? You were standing in front of the Count’s portrait earlier as well, weren’t you?”
Bliss flinched inwardly. As expected, it was not easy to deceive the sharp eyes of the butler. However, she was not Ashley Miller. Bliss summoned his courage, bowed his head modestly, and replied.
“I was just about to offer a prayer so that I could do well in today’s interview.”
It sounded as if his voice were trembling slightly. No, it’ll be fine. I probably just misheard myself.
…Will she think it’s because I’m nervous?
While he was inwardly anxious, Penelope frowned and repeated the word he had used.
“A prayer?”
“Yes.”
Bliss nodded, awkwardly pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“I truly wish to serve Count Herringer.”
As her gaze pierced his face as if questioning his reason, Bliss answered hurriedly.
“I am a fan of the Strickland family. I’ve been studying the family’s history diligently. In the midst of that, I heard that the Count, who is expected to be the next Duke, was looking for someone to work at the mansion, so I applied immediately.”
“A fan of the ducal family…?”
Penelope scanned Bliss with a suspicious look. It was understandable. How many people would blindly cheer and rejoice over immense wealth and titles passed down through inheritance? But he had prepared for this as well.
“Yes, I was particularly moved by the tremendous achievements of the previous Duke. For instance, he earned great merit by wiping out a band of pirates that invaded the territory…”
In that process, he captured the woman who was the pirate leader and made her his wife.
Of course, that fiery love cooled down, and their parting was equally loud. Ksh, that drama was so interesting.
—My lady, my heart burned away long ago. There is no heart left to love you any longer.
Ultimately, upon the Duke’s confession that he had come to love another woman, the former pirate Duchess flew into a rage and stabbed him with a knife. It was a massive scandal, indeed.
It wasn’t easy to pick out only the side-stories regarding history while omitting the parts he found most exciting. Things like the story of the Duchess kidnapping the cheating Duke and dragging him to sea, or the incident that caused their love to ignite once more, or the emotion felt when they realized it was all a misunderstanding in the end. My goodness, what a fascinating drama it was!
…However.
“His Grace the Duke personally received a medal from the King and brought honor to the family…”
It was quite a chore to unravel only the boring parts of the drama as if it were a documentary. While he was reciting the facts, hoping it would end quickly, a faint smile appeared on Penelope’s lips. Thank goodness, she seems satisfied! My efforts are paying off, he thought, feeling relieved. Then, Penelope spoke.
“However.”
Bliss strained his ears, growing anxious at her skill of intentionally taking a sip of tea to control the tempo. Turning her gaze back to Bliss, Penelope finally posed her question.
“Why did you come here instead of going to the Duke’s estate? If you are so interested in the Strickland family, shouldn’t you have gone to the main house?”
It was an expected question. Bliss pulled out the answer he had prepared.
“There were no vacancies there, and also, I want to know more about the next Duke than the current one.”
Penelope quirked an eyebrow and stared at him intently, as if asking if that was all. Bliss hurriedly searched his mind and pulled out Cassian’s strengths one by one.
“Because the Count is a wonderful person in his own right, even without the halo of the ducal house.”
“And?”
“The Count is also active in environmental movements… and since I have a great interest in that as well.”
“And?”
“I also saw an article about how he donated to children in poverty last time. I was truly deeply moved.”
“Again, and?”
“And…”
The more he spoke, the more cold sweat poured down his back like rain. Is this why they say fans and haters are two sides of the same coin? Because he had obsessively dug through materials on Cassian recently, Bliss knew almost everything about him. Even a very old anecdote about how, at age three, while being held by his father, the Duke, to give New Year’s greetings on a balcony, he had accidentally pulled off the Duke’s wig and caused a huge commotion.
Faced with Bliss’s rapid answers that popped out regardless of what was asked, Penelope looked at him with an unreadable expression. Is she pleased? Or does she dislike it?