Chapter 102: Chapter 102: Nighttime conversation

After Ruby and I had been out walking almost all day, by evening I felt completely drained of energy.

It seemed that even thinking was difficult. That’s what happens when you accumulate too much physical activity in one day — especially when compared to my usual, much more sedentary lifestyle.

We seemed to have walked through half the city during our outing. It was all enjoyable, no doubt... but exhausting. By the end of the day, my legs were aching, my back was sore, and even my arms felt unusually heavy from the many packages we were carrying back.

So this shopping trip really turned out to be exhausting. Even more than I expected.

When we finally returned to the estate, the soft twilight of the hallway seemed almost like a salvation to me. The air inside was cool and immediately enveloped me with a feeling of peace.

Since I was so tired, I decided to go to bed right away when we got back.

I didn’t have the energy for dinner, conversation, or any other activity. Even the thought of hot tea seemed like too much effort. All I wanted was to get to bed, take off my shoes, and wrap myself in a blanket.

"Good night, Ruby," I said, trying to sound cheerful, even though I could barely stand on my feet.

"Good night, Auntie!" she replied.

I smiled wearily.

"Don’t forget, you shouldn’t go to bed too late, okay?"

"Of course," Ruby replied.

Rubyella smiled slightly and nodded as she watched me walk down the hallway.

When the footsteps faded and silence fell behind the door, the main villain remained standing for a few more seconds, as if pondering something. A hint of a smile still lingered at the corners of her lips, like the flickering of a candle, ready to go out at any moment.

When Grace was out of sight, Rubiella exhaled quietly and finally turned, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Leaving her aunt’s room, the main villain continued down the corridor with a slightly pensive expression on her face. Her gaze revealed a strange emotion, which she, as always, skillfully hid behind her calm exterior.

However, Rubiella had not gone more than a few meters when she met the butler in the night corridor. He appeared silently, as if he himself were part of this old house.

From the expression on his face, the girl immediately understood that he wanted to tell her something. His gaze flashed with indecision, but also with a sense of duty that compelled him to say even what might have been better left unsaid.

"What is it?" she smiled, lifting her chin slightly and crossing her arms over her chest.

Her tone was calm, but there was something lazy, almost playful about it, as if the girl knew in advance what he was going to say and was just waiting for the butler to decide to say it out loud.

Edward Edison, usually the impeccable butler in every way, now looked different. His back was slightly tense, his hands, usually folded behind his back, now rested at his stomach, as if he were afraid he would falter mid-sentence. The corners of his eyes were shadowed with fatigue, and his eyebrows were drawn together, betraying an inner struggle.

"Milady," he finally said, "how long do you intend to hide this from the mistress?"

Rubiella raised her eyebrow slightly.

"What exactly do you mean?" Her voice became a little colder, without a hint of surprise, just a slight detachment.

"You... You don’t actually attend the social salon, do you?" The old man’s voice trembled involuntarily. "But then why... why do you continue to lie to the lady?"

She was silent for a moment.

Finally, Rubiella took a slow breath, as if considering whether to answer at all. Then a slight, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

"You are too curious," she said softly. "I asked you not to interfere in my affairs, didn’t I?"

"Forgive me, milady," he bowed, not looking up. "But you know that I have served your house for more than thirty years. I’ve watched you grow up. And now, when you’re hiding something from the mistress..." He swallowed hard. "I just can’t pretend I don’t notice anything."

"How touching," the girl replied with a quiet laugh. "Your loyalty and concern as a servant are truly touching."

"My lady," the butler said desperately, "if it were only you, I would not interfere. But the mistress sincerely believes that you are spending time in society... that everything is fine with you. But now..." He paused, as if afraid to say too much.

Rubiella moved closer. Her steps were soft, almost inaudible, and when she stopped in front of him, the butler felt a cold calm emanating from her, almost frightening.

"What now, Sir Edison?" she asked quietly, but in such a way that his voice immediately broke off.

He lowered his gaze.

"I... I just don’t want the lady to continue to be misled..." The butler’s voice was quiet, but there was a sincere concern in it, almost a plea.

For a moment, Rubiella Weinstein looked at him silently. There was no irritation or anger in her gaze, only a cold, impenetrable calm. The girl’s face remained serene, but there was something in that stillness that sent a chill down Edison’s spine.

Then she straightened up, tilted her head back slightly, and smiled.

"It’s none of your business," she said evenly, almost lazily, as if he should have known that from the start. "If you want to continue working in this house, I advise you to keep your mouth shut and stay out of things that don’t concern you."

After the young mistress’s sharp words, the butler stumbled involuntarily, his gaze dropping. He seemed to want to object, but then he just pressed his lips together and bowed his head slightly.

"Yes, milady," he replied quietly.

Rubiella slowly walked past him, turning her shoulder slightly, but then stopped when she had almost passed him.

"Anything else?" she asked without turning around.

Edison cleared his throat awkwardly when he had regained his composure a little. His hands, usually impeccably calm, were now visibly trembling.

"Yes, milady... you have another letter from the duchess. As you instructed, I am delivering it to you immediately, without informing the mistress..." He took a neatly sealed envelope with a wax seal from his inside pocket.

"Hmm..." Rubiella said quietly, finally turning around. "Let me see that."

Edison stepped closer and handed her the letter. His gaze met her amethyst eyes for a moment, and he lowered his head again — her gaze was too cold and penetrating, as if she could see right through him.

Rubiella, showing no interest whatsoever, took the letter from his hands, ran her finger over the wax seal, and casually broke it. The paper rustled softly as she unfolded the sheet.

Edison stood a little way off, not daring to move. He already knew not to speak while she was reading.

A few seconds later, something resembling a smile appeared on the girl’s face. A barely noticeable movement of her lips, subtle, almost lazy — like that of a person who knows the outcome in advance and whose expectations have once again been fully justified.

This was already the seventh letter from her mother, Duchess Weinstein, this month. But Rubiella had not replied to any of them, and she had also instructed that her aunt not be told about these letters.

Finally, the butler cautiously looked up.

"Forgive my boldness, milady," the butler began cautiously, "but perhaps the duchess is simply... worried about you."

"Worried?" Rubiella looked up, and a smile appeared on her face, slightly more obvious than before. "It’s funny to hear that word from you."

The butler looked away awkwardly.

"Still, perhaps... you should at least reply once. So as not to make the situation worse."

Rubiella looked at him with a slight shadow of distrust, but then, as if deciding that explanations were not worth the effort, she smiled anyway.

"Don’t worry. There’s no need," she said evenly, and there was not a hint of doubt in her voice.

Edward Edison apparently wanted to say something else, but the words stuck in his throat. He involuntarily took a step back, as if the distance could somehow distance him from the serene composure that emanated from his young mistress. He already understood that it was pointless to continue insisting.

As soon as she read the letter and smiled at its contents, Rubiella casually crumpled it in her palm like some kind of trash.

The crackling of the paper sounded especially clear in the silence of the corridor. Then the main villainess threw the crumpled sheet into the nearest flower vase.

"I understand. Keep up the good work," she said, her words hanging in the air, cold and uncompromising.

"Y-yes, ma’am..." Edison replied, stammering, barely audibly.

He watched his young mistress as she walked past him and left the hallway. Finally, the butler was able to breathe a deep sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, a faint smile still lingered on Rubiella’s lips, difficult to see in the dim light of night, but nevertheless giving her face an even more mysterious look.

She paused for a moment at the window. The sky was heavy, and some stars seemed to be barely hanging on.

"What difference does it make?" thought Rubiella Weinstein, and the smirk in her thoughts became even harsher. "That woman will die soon anyway."