Please Lend Me 50 Million - Chapter 37

At him trying to lift the blanket and check her a*s right then and there, Asha let out a shrill scream. Harriet also didn’t seem to actually intend to check, as he soothed Asha by pressing his soft lips against her swollen mouth. It was a sweet contact. The kiss, which she thought would continue into a mess, ended more simply than expected.

“I will tell the physician to prepare an ointment.”

“Are you going like this? Wh-what about me?”

“The morning has dawned, so I must go to work. Of course, it would be better to hold a messy tryst with you, my sweet… but for some reason, my lady had many other ulterior motives.”

Harriet deliberately replied to Asha’s words playfully. Seeing the anxious Asha was also a great pleasure for him.

“Hmph!”

She wanted to retort, but because she knew the crime of secretly lifting her sleeping husband’s blanket since morning, Asha shut her mouth. Harriet, leaving the intensely piqued Asha behind, composedly dressed himself, and only right before leaving did he approach and kiss her. As if she could be soothed by a late soothing. Asha, who was already as sulky as could be, clamped her lips shut and avoided Harriet’s lips. It was a silent protest.

Harriet, having lingeringly licked her lips as if engraving it on the tip of his tongue, left the room with a light step.

Thud—

Asha threw her pillow toward the door that closed irritatingly lightly.

“Just you wait. Just you wait, Harriet!”

Harriet would not know. He would not know what kind of plan a single snort of his had ignited.

“Just you wait!”

It was a historical moment when Asha’s own grand plan was designed.

* * *

My name is Cecile. I am a diligent servant of the Count Bellstein family and a maid who assists the Countess. Because I’ve worked here since the time Count Bellstein received his title, I already have seven years of experience. Since it’s been a long time, I thought I was now used to Bellstein Castle, but lately, the atmosphere of the manor has been unusual. How should I put it—strange?

The master and mistress, who used to glance at each other from afar as if stalking each other, seemed to have become close from a certain day, and then suddenly the mistress became angry. The detailed inner story was unknown, but one thing was certain: the mistress’s competitive spirit had been ignited.

“Ah—Melissa!”

“Anastasia.”

Cecile’s gaze turned toward Asha, who was making a scene at the dress shop. Having paid a large sum saying she would rent the boutique for a whopping seven hours, her mistress was currently being a legal nuisance. She had been whining while sending piteous looks to Melissa for two hours now, fulfilling her role as a big-spending nuisance.

Cecile, who often witnessed such sights while assisting Asha, recalled her first meeting with her. Her platinum blonde hair fluttering under the gentle early summer breeze and her smile blooming like a flower made one’s heart flutter. Her sparkling water-colored eyes were enough to make one smile automatically, so Cecile had guessed that her future mistress would be a lovely and delicate girl.

Though that impression was shattered within a few months.

Cecile, looking at Asha who looked ready to lie down on the floor at any moment, recalled Harriet, who had given stern warnings before they left the manor.

As if reflecting his personality, the office, which was chillingly neatly organized, held the intimidation that an old castle possesses. It was enough to take one’s breath away with its sharply honed atmosphere.

While one might be intimidated by the thick books filling one entire wall and the lined-up aides, Cecile stood before Harriet without any sign of tension. That was because the things Harriet said were always the same.

‘Make sure she doesn’t get heatstroke, and don’t let her walk too much.’

Reminding her once more of what was obvious was a delicate concern. He acted as if Asha were a delicate sugar doll that would melt away under the hot sunlight. He clearly didn’t know the fact that the wife he worried about so much could sprint through the notorious 17th Street in one go. To add, Cecile didn’t want to know either.

Harriet gave a short command and then fell silent for a moment. Once his somewhat soft voice disappeared, only a fierce and cold aura remained. It felt like looking at excessively refined metal. However, unlike his impression, a sharply cracked voice followed.

‘Monitor that the mistress doesn’t look elsewhere. …Report every single man her eyes land on without exception.’

Perhaps because his brow was slightly furrowed, an irritable atmosphere was evident. However, Cecile’s keen eyes found the tension and anxiety hidden in that gap. This beast-like man, contrary to his ferocious momentum, was at his wit’s end worrying that his beloved wife might blow away in the wind or perhaps look elsewhere.

Seeing him like that, Cecile, arrogantly enough, thought he was pitiable. The reason was none other than…

‘I think the mistress is only thinking about how to f**k you into a mess, Master…’