Episode 27
Monica didn’t forget that the man in front of her was the son of a noble family. She chose her words carefully, aiming to remain as polite as possible.
But Enrique, as if reading Monica’s audacious gaze, spoke before she could even ask her question.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not crazy.”
“…Do you drink poison, by any chance?”
Monica tried to lighten the mood by asking a question in jest. However, Enrique responded without even a hint of a smile.
“I don’t have the luxury of indulging in such foolishness.”
“Ah, yes…” Monica trailed off.
An awkward silence followed. Enrique hesitated but seemed to steel himself before finally continuing.
“This might sound embarrassing, but I am desperate. I’m willing to share my secret with you if there’s even the slightest chance you could help me by reaching out to any other nurses you know.”
Monica was taken aback.
She had never expected a man with such an arrogant demeanor to speak so openly, let alone admit to desperation. And now there was mention of a secret. Her curiosity piqued, but Enrique pressed on.
“It’s a humiliating secret, but before I reveal it, I need to ask again: are you willing to help me?”
Monica hesitated before answering.
“The production of the green potion is strictly forbidden in the kingdom…”
“I know. That’s why you’re so reluctant,” Enrique replied calmly.
Monica couldn’t hide her irritation at his nonchalant attitude.
He knows I’m hesitant, yet he still asks me to risk getting caught by investigators and thrown into prison?
But as if sensing her thoughts, Enrique made a proposal.
“If you help me in any meaningful way, I will reward you with whatever you want—money or anything else.”
“…Money isn’t necessary. In this household, as a tutor, I already make more than you might imagine.”
She initially intended to brush him off with “unimaginable,” but she quickly altered her tone.
Her weekly salary of 500 Singapore dollars was substantial—perhaps even dreamlike for others. But it might not be much to a noble like Enrique. Yet, to her surprise, his thick eyebrows arched slightly.
“I said, ‘money or anything else.’”
“…What exactly do you mean by ‘anything else’?” Monica asked cautiously.
“For example,” Enrique began, crossing his arms with an air of arrogance, “how about a letter of recommendation for admission to Beryl College?”
Monica nearly fell to her knees in shock. She managed to keep her mouth shut, though her thoughts were racing.
Beryl College!
A small institution founded less than a century ago by scholars seeking knowledge had grown into one of the most prestigious academies on the continent. Its standards were incredibly high, and nobles from across the kingdoms poured in funding, further elevating its reputation.
Admission required passing several rigorous tests, a relevant resume, and—most importantly—a letter of recommendation from either a Beryl alumnus or a noble family that supported the college.
In short, it was a place that commoners like Monica couldn’t even dream of attending. Yet here she was, being offered such a recommendation.
Her heart raced.
Just taking the Beryl exam would be monumental!
Even applicants who failed to gain admission often capitalized on their experience, earning hefty fees from nobles eager to learn about the exam. Many of them went on to other reputable colleges, far better than the neglected women’s schools Monica had once considered.
Then Enrique shattered her reverie.
“I spoke to Miss Riella about your background. She mentioned that you applied to be a nurse to eventually attend a women’s college.”
Monica felt a wave of shame and anger wash over her.
Riella, I swore to keep your past a secret, yet you spilled it so easily to this man?
She lowered her gaze to compose herself. When she raised her head again, Enrique seemed surprised at her sudden calmness but continued.
“I don’t know what you wish to study, but my family, the Sullivans, have supported Beryl College since its inception. With a letter of recommendation from us, admission should be within your reach.”
Monica’s heart tightened.
Such a tempting offer couldn’t come for free.
She sneered internally.
The world is so unfair.
Still, she realized the opportunity was too valuable to dismiss outright. Monica decided to tread carefully.
“…I’m not sure how I can help you, but the demands you’re making are quite significant,” she replied cautiously.
Enrique raised an eyebrow, puzzled by her sudden wariness. But he maintained his crossed-arm stance, his demeanor unwavering.
“That’s why I specified ‘meaningful help.’”
“Meaningful by whose definition? Yours?”
“Of course.”
Monica’s mind raced. As much as she wanted to reject him outright, she couldn’t afford to. The thought of living under Riella Offen’s shadow any longer was unbearable.
“I’ll hear your condition first, then decide,” Monica finally said.
Enrique hesitated but, seeing no way around her demand, reluctantly began.
“My name is Enrique Luis Berfeil Sullivan.”
“…I figured as much. Go on.”
His expression soured at her cheeky response, but he pressed forward.
“…But I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember what?” Monica asked, confused.
Enrique’s words weren’t what she had expected.
“Which is why you should always listen to the patient’s condition until the very end,” he muttered, exasperated.
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