Episode 23
“Teacher!”
Both Monica and the man flinched and turned their heads. It was Martinel, running toward them, panting, and calling out to Monica.
“The fireworks have started! What are you doing?”
Monica instantly understood why Martinel, who had been showing off to the little girls near the fountain, had come looking for her. Behind him, Riella stood at a distance, glancing anxiously towards them.
Martinel’s attention soon fell on the man sitting awkwardly in front of Monica.
“Sir Sullivan, hello…”
The boy hesitated, taking a step back before offering a polite bow. He clearly found the man, who had been discussing marriage with his sister, intimidating. Still, his eyes sparkled with curiosity as he observed the strange scene between them.
Monica quickly stood up, smoothing her dress, and spoke before Martinel could say anything further.
“I tripped, and Lord Sulivan helped me up.”
“Oh, how kind of you, Sir Sulivan,” Martinel replied, his tone hesitant.
The situation—a man with his shirt and cravat undone and a woman adjusting her lifted skirt—was far too suspicious to be explained by a simple fall. Yet the boy nodded, albeit puzzled, trusting the noble gentleman and his kind nurse.
“What about Miss Violet?” Monica asked quickly, smiling to steer the conversation away.
Martinel flinched at the mention of Violet. It seemed he was worried Riella might tease him about her. But Monica’s tactic worked; Martinel was distracted, and his attention shifted.
Meanwhile, Enrique Sulivan, ever the gentleman, straightened his posture and buttoned his shirt. His polished demeanor returned, though his pale complexion hinted at lingering unease.
Riella, still at a distance, locked eyes with Enrique and flinched. She seemed torn, her guilt evident for having wandered back to the garden.
“I see you two have already met!” Monica said, breaking the tension.
“Indeed,” Enrique replied smoothly, flashing a disarming smile. “But the introduction was brief. I was just about to ask for more details.”
“Oh, teacher—no, Miss Monica!” Martinel interrupted, eager to introduce Monica to Enrique.
With the enthusiasm of a child showing off a prized possession, Martinel explained how Monica was his tutor and former battlefield nurse. Enrique’s eyes lit up at the mention of her war experience.
“A battlefield nurse? If I may ask, where did you serve?” he inquired, his interest evident.
“…At Arvid’s hospital,” Monica replied reluctantly, uneasy under his intense gaze.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, his interest in her background felt invasive. Her pride in serving at Arvid was overshadowed by a strange discomfort.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the air as fireworks exploded, filling the sky with shimmering blue confetti.
“Teacher! We should go back. You can’t see much from here!” Martinel exclaimed, tugging at her hand.
Though Monica wanted to stay and watch Enrique’s trembling fingertips, she allowed Martinel to lead her away. Enrique, sensing her hesitation, quickly composed himself, his expression returning to its usual coldness.
“Please, go back,” he said stiffly.
—
Monica spent the entire evening sighing. She’d made up her mind to resign after the banquet, but circumstances made it difficult to follow through.
The first reason was her unexpected bonus. The day after the banquet, Mrs. Mollett had generously distributed rewards to her staff for their hard work. Monica, too, received an extra 50 Singapore on top of her salary.
Even Monica, who prided herself on being shameless, couldn’t quit on the same day she received a bonus.
The second reason was her growing curiosity about Enrique Sulivan’s true identity.
Luis Berfeil, Garcia, and Enrique Sulivan —were they truly the same man? Or was Enrique merely a fraud posing as the son of the prestigious Sulivan family?
While lying on bed that night, Monica mulled over the possibilities. La Spezia, where many nobles had taken refuge during the war, was the perfect place for a fraud to operate unnoticed. Yet, surely someone would recognize the face of a Sulivan heir if he were a fraud.
Her curiosity wouldn’t let her rest. The man’s distinct personas—Luis’s kindness, Garcia’s wildness, and Enrique’s arrogance—were too different to reconcile.
The third reason was Riella.
Since the banquet, Riella had kept Monica close, inviting her to activities like picking roses or arranging flowers. Though Riella’s actions seemed kind on the surface, Monica could sense she was being carefully watched.
It was no surprise. Riella had entrusted Monica with her secret: she was begging Enrique to take her back to his family. If Monica resigned now, Riella would surely try to stop her.
Even so, Monica couldn’t dwell on such thoughts all day. She spent her free moments observing Riella, who seemed more enigmatic with each passing day.
One week after the banquet, Riella summoned Monica to the backyard during tea time. Monica, confused, made her way there.
To her surprise, she found Riella waiting with Enrique Sulivan.
“Miss Monica, this is Lord Sulivan, whom you met that evening,” Riella said with an air of authority.
Her tone was formal, as though introducing Monica to high society. Yet her words felt insincere.
Monica took a deep breath as Enrique removed his hat and bowed to Riella.
“Thank you for your kindness, Miss Riella. I will repay it soon.”
“Sir, as I mentioned before, if anyone owes something, it is I…”
Riella’s tone wavered slightly, but her words excluded Monica as if she weren’t even present. Monica’s lips tightened, but Enrique cut Riella off.
“We’ll discuss that later.”
With that, Riella left the garden, leaving Monica alone with Enrique.
—
