Under the intense gaze of the Countess, Gareth—usually a confident man—couldn't help but feel a little nervous. It wasn't the nervousness that came from being in front of a woman. No, he had far too much experience for that.
There was something about the Countess.
Aside from her stunning beauty, she radiated a presence that naturally drew one's attention. Funnily enough, he remembered feeling something similar from those thugs and the head maid.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, he immediately tried to shake it away. He couldn't believe he had likened those disgusting thugs to the beautiful woman sitting before him.
While he was lost in thought, he failed to notice that the Countess had been observing every subtle change in his expression.
At first, she saw the familiar look of surprise—one she had grown accustomed to seeing whenever a man laid eyes on her for the first time. That part didn't interest her.
What caught her attention was how quickly it vanished.
She watched as his gaze dropped, deliberately avoiding hers, and how the surprise was replaced with contemplation. It was the first time a man had managed to compose himself so quickly after meeting her.
That, more than anything else, intrigued her.
She didn't know that Gareth hadn't put her out of his mind at all—his thoughts had simply wandered somewhere else entirely.
Still, the Countess was not a woman who appreciated being ignored.
"So, your name is Gareth, hmm?" she asked, her tone light and curious.
It wasn't much of a question. After all, she had dragged him out of the mines, fed him for a week, clothed him, and housed him. She wouldn't have done all that without knowing his name.
The words, however, served their purpose—breaking the silence between them.
Gareth flinched slightly, snapping back to reality. He lifted his gaze and met her eyes.
"Yes, my Lady," he replied, bowing slightly.
His posture was stiff, making it obvious he wasn't used to such formal gestures. Considering he had been a miner until recently, it was understandable.
"And do you know why you are here?" she asked again.
That question genuinely caught him off guard.
Why was he here?
Wasn't it obvious?
"…I wasn't informed, my Lady," he said carefully. "I only know that my Lady saved my life, for which I am truly grateful. Whatever you want from me, my Lady, you only need ask."
He finished with a small smile, subtly attempting to flatter her without crossing any lines.
"Oh? I only need ask~?" she echoed, a faint smile playing on her lips.
His attempt hadn't gone unnoticed.
Watching a boy—who had only recently become a man—trying to win her favor amused her greatly. She found herself not disliking it.
The perks of having a handsome face were already showing.
"Of course, my Lady," Gareth replied, holding his ground.
This first impression would shape everything that came after. If he wanted a good life here, he had to make it count.
"Well then," she said, slowly rubbing her shoulders, "they've been rather stiff lately. All this paperwork, you see."
The hint was unmistakable.
Gareth immediately stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
The moment his fingers touched her skin, he froze internally.
Smooth.
Soft, yet firm—like silk stretched over steel. Beneath that flawless exterior, there was something powerful. Something dangerous.
A weaker man would have been intoxicated by the mere contact.
Gareth, however, forced himself to stay focused.
Not enough, he thought absently. If it were her breasts, though…
His thoughts betrayed him, and his body reacted accordingly.
Fortunately, he was standing behind her.
Shaking his head, he banished the distraction and focused on the massage. Without realizing it, he applied more pressure.
"Mmm…"
A soft, involuntary sound escaped her lips.
That single reaction told him everything he needed to know.
Encouraged, he adjusted his grip and focused on her shoulder blades, kneading deeply. He wasn't a professional masseuse, but he knew where tension liked to hide.
Back in the army, long marches and heavy gear had forced his unit to develop… unconventional ways of relieving stress. Stepping on backs, digging elbows into sore muscles—crude, but effective.
Judging by her reaction, it worked.
He focused on that area for several minutes, slowly easing the tension from her shoulders.
As her breathing evened out, Gareth finally spoke.
"My Lady, pardon my ignorance, but… may I know your name?"
Her eyes remained closed, her voice laced with amusement.
"And why would you wish to know my name?"
"Well," he said hesitantly, lowering his tone, "it feels embarrassing not knowing the name of the one who saved my life. Besides… I can't keep calling you my Lady forever, can I?"
He paused, then added softly, "Am I… not allowed to know?"
For the first time since he entered the room, the Countess smiled—a slow, deliberate smile.
He's cute.
The Countess thought so before finally giving him an answer. Even without seeing his face, she had dealt with enough men to read their personalities from the smallest clues.
From his words—and the careful tone of his voice—she could practically imagine his expression. That naive, slightly eager smile might as well have been plastered right in front of her.
Amused, she decided to indulge him.
"If that is all," she said leisurely, "then I can grant your wish. Listen well. My name is Alina Virelle. Make sure you do not forget it."
There was unmistakable pride in her voice when she spoke her name, the kind that came from centuries of noble lineage.
"I would never, Lady Virelle," Gareth replied smoothly.
As he spoke, his hands began to shift—slowly, subtly. From her shoulders, they moved toward her right arm, his touch still respectful, but clearly deliberate.
It was time to move things further along.
After all, he wasn't brought here to be a masseuse.
He was here to be a fuck boy.
With a burst of determination, he completely started massaging her arms. From her upper arms, he gradually worked his way towards her fingertips. Soon, he had her palm in his hands and was massaging it gently.