CHIRP~! CHIRP~!
"…."
It was a bright morning.
As bright as Escar's mood that day.
The young Marquess had woken up unusually early.
He paid extra attention to his appearance, more than he normally would.
His neatly combed-back hair revealed his forehead, a light fragrance emanated from him, and his attire was neither too simple nor too showy for his status.
His face wore a constant, gentle smile.
"Woah~!"
Behind the broad back of Sir Bashilian, Escar's personal knight, who stood by the doorway observing his master, was Villicia, the Head Maid.
She was hiding behind him, clutching his sturdy arm for cover, sneaking peeks at their lord with giggles.
"It seems spring has come for our dear Marquess!"
"…."
Sir Bashilian didn't reply.
The stern-faced knight chose to remain silent for a reason.
A reason that made his heart race.
THUMP! THUMP!
Ah!
"Bashil~! Why are you so quiet?" whispered the Head Maid, standing on her tiptoes to reach the tall knight's ear.
Villicia didn't seem to realize it.
That spring wasn't just blossoming for the Marquess.
"Oh! Your ears are turning red! Are you alright?"
"…!"
Startled by her remark, Sir Bashilian quickly covered his ears with his hands, realizing they had indeed grown warm.
Always, always!
He always acted so embarrassingly whenever he was near Villicia!
"I-it's … Villi …!"
Despite knowing each other since they were children—nine and six years old respectively—something felt different in their interactions now that they were 29 and 26.
Especially for Sir Bashilian, who, for the past eight years, had been watching Villicia, once a whiny, timid girl, blossom into a graceful woman.
"Please, stop teasing me."
"Pfft!"
Villicia stifled her laughter at his pleading expression.
Instead, she pointed at his blushing face, teasing him even more as his complexion deepened to an almost crimson hue.
TUK! TUK!
Luckily, the embarrassing situation was interrupted by a tap on the desk by Escar, who sought their attention.
["Villicia, why are you here? What about Lady Shirley?"]
"Oh! My Lady is currently—"
•••
BLINK!
"… Hah~!"
Shirley stirred.
Her eyes blinked against the brightness.
The young lady sat up on her bed, gathering her strength so she wouldn't feel dizzy when she stood.
CHIRP~! CHIRP!
The chirping birds outside drew her attention to the window, its curtains already pulled back by someone.
Ah, it seemed the morning sunlight had arrived.
It felt like a dream to have slept so soundly after days of restless nights worrying over countless matters.
Now that she'd had this fleeting moment of peace ….
"…."
… What should she do next?
•••
TAP!
Shirley's footsteps came to an abrupt halt just inches away from the door to the Marquess's study.
The raven-haired girl had dressed elegantly and eaten breakfast, just in case her stomach betrayed her with an embarrassing rumble again.
Now that everything was in order ….
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Your Excellency."
… There was one thing Shirley needed to do to preserve the newfound comfort she had regained.
"Lady Shirley has come to see you."
She had to "seek clarity."
CREAK!
The door was opened by the Marquess's personal knight, who unintentionally gave Shirley the confidence to step inside.
"Greetings, Your Excellency."
And so Shirley found herself there once again.
"May health and happiness always bless you."
She offered a respectful greeting, just as she had the day before.
And just like before, the recipient returned her greeting with a slight nod.
"…."
Once again, Escar and Shirley were seated in the same spots.
And once again, Escar opened his special notebook, writing something before showing her his question.
["Is there anything I can help you with today?"]
"Ah, um … it's about my status here, … it's …."
Shirley hesitated, unsure how to phrase the sensitive question.
Meanwhile, Escar swallowed nervously before jotting down his reply.
["You can stay here as long as you wish. I won't mind at all."]
"However, wouldn't that be strange? We're not close enough to justify such kindness."
["I-in that case …!"]
SCRATCH! SCRATCH!
["You could stay here as my friend!"]
"…!"
Shirley's crimson eyes widened in disbelief.
She couldn't believe this.
How could someone she'd only recently met offer her such a generous proposal?
"I …."
Shirley had thought the man might take the chance to propose marriage to her.
After all, if she were still desirable as a wife, despite her tarnished reputation and her father's downfall, wouldn't this be the moment?
"… I'll think about it."
Was this truly the right solution?
***
One to two days passed smoothly.
Shirley roamed freely within the Aschenford estate, enjoying the privilege of being labeled the "friend" of the Marquess.
However, in the third to seventh days, the tone of the estate's servants shifted.
Their whispers turned into sharp, overt criticisms.
"What a shameless leech."
"She's walking around like she owns the place, completely guiltless, just because the Marquess took her in."
"Hah! Just because she's pretty, she thinks she can get away with anything? A former noblewoman like her should be working as a maid!"
"What does the Marquess even see in her?!"
For the first week or two, Shirley endured the whispers and glances. But as the third week dragged on, the malicious gossip began to sting her ears.
And so, she made a bold decision.
"Marry me!"
The sudden proposal shocked Marquess Aschenford.
The pen he held dropped onto the stack of papers before him, his entire body frozen in place.
His mouth gaped, green eyes wide, and—
BLUSH!
—his face flushed a deep, fiery red.
"Do you not want to?" Shirley asked skeptically. Her question was met with a rapid shake of the head from Escar.
With trembling hands, Escar grabbed his special notebook and scribbled a response.
His handwriting wavered from the overwhelming tremor in his hands.
He showed her the response, his face flushed with nervous energy.
["Are you sure you want to marry me?"]
Marrying a stranger—especially one often mocked for his inability to speak—would have been an unthinkable humiliation for Shirley, a young woman raised in the grandeur of a Duke's household.
But ….
"Of course. I've fallen in love with your kindness!"
["But … I can't speak."]
"That doesn't matter! I love you just as you are."
Shirley's desperation to protect herself from being discarded again was evident.
["But my inability to speak could embarrass you! It's shameful!"]
"I said I don't care."
She was determined to silence the cruel gossip of the servants with a title that could not be challenged.
GREP!
Shirley clasped Escar's large, calloused hands between her small palms.
Her firm grip made him freeze, his heart pounding wildly.
"Do you truly not want to marry me?"
Her pleading expression softened her sharp words.
"…!"
Escar's entire body turned bright red, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he trembled.
His wide, tear-glazed green eyes darted to her face before dipping to the ground.
With a shaky exhale, he nodded.
SHING!
Shirley's crimson eyes lit up at the answer she'd wanted.
"That was easy," she thought smugly.
She had suspected as much from the way Escar often blushed and fumbled in her presence. It was clear he harbored feelings for her.
This wasn't mere hospitality; he had been smitten from the start.
Shirley wasn't foolish enough to ignore the obvious.
["T-then …."]
Knowing his feelings, Shirley saw an opportunity to benefit herself.
Why not make this a mutually advantageous arrangement?
["When would you like to hold the ceremony?"]
"I think the sooner, the better."
BLUSH!
"…!"
Escar flushed even more. He couldn't contain the giddy smile spreading across his face.
Even if Shirley's affections might not be entirely genuine, Escar felt elated—he believed someone finally loved him.
•••
Meanwhile, Sir Bashilian stood silently by, watching his master, Marquess Aschenford, grin uncontrollably long after his "special guest" had left the study.
His face was flushed, his green eyes sparkled, and his smile widened further with each passing second.
Whatever was going through Escar's mind, Sir Bashilian had a strong suspicion that something troublesome was about to unfold.
TUK! TUK!
"…! Pardon? Did you call for me, Your Excellency?"
Snapped from his thoughts by Escar tapping his desk, Bashilian refocused his gaze.
The Marquess was holding out his notebook, the words written boldly and with conviction.
It was a short sentence, but its meaning was profound.
Reading the words, Bashilian realized that, as a loyal knight, he would have to comply with this impending request wholeheartedly.
["I want to get married!"]