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Not long after, Lyna, Becky, and Ainar sat facing the bald man.
“If my memory serves me right, this is our first meeting. Ah, of course, you have your face well hidden under the hood, but I never forget my customers once I’ve met them.”
The bald man’s mouth was smiling, but the veins popping on his temples suggested that he was quite furious.
Quickly darting his eyes, the bald man seemed ready to overturn the situation if the person in front of him didn’t meet his standards even by a little.
Of course, that never happened, because Lyna revealed her identity so easily by taking off the hood of her robe.
“It’s Bolsheik.”
No matter where on the continent you go, it’s undeniable that the woman with her striking red hair and blue eyes is Bolshevik.
The bald man swiftly clasped his hands together by his abdomen and beamed with his eyes.
Having become very meek, he asked Lyna very politely.
“What brings such a distinguished person to this humble place?”
Before the bald man’s words could finish, Lyna cut straight to the point without any hesitation.
“I came to repay a debt.”
“A debt…?”
A debt involving Bolsheik? It’s something even the royal family would be eager to get their hands on.
The bald man racked his brain, but he couldn’t find any connection between Bolsheik and debt.
He glanced back with a hesitant feeling, but the short-haired woman who trusted him just shook her head.
As if reading his thoughts, Lyna added.
“Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not Bolsheik’s debt. The debt is.”
At her signal, Becky took off her hood and spoke.
“I’m here to clear Becky Graham’s debt…”
As she was about to use the honorifics out of habit, Becky clenched her teeth.
The bald man blinked, and his eyes widened.
He recalled the incident where the once noisy Graham family had been burned to the ground.
“G…Graham? Becky Graham? You’re not dead?”
As soon as his words ended, Lyna leaned back deeply in her chair, crossed her legs, and spoke.
“Baldie, keep it short. It’s Lady Graham.”
The bald man hurriedly closed his mouth, and Lyna looked at him with a half-scornful gaze.
“Isn’t it already arrogant and rude just to be sitting in the same place as me? Isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes. You’re right.”
The bald man realized that his cockroach-level survival instinct, which had kept him alive so far, was screaming a warning, and he quickly lifted his butt from the chair.
Seeing him abruptly stand up, Lyna tilted her head slightly.
“Are you trying to make me look up?”
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
The bald man hurriedly knelt down again, and those following him also knelt in a ripple-like succession.
Lyna’s gaze, fixed on them all, was as arid as a desert.
Hence, without hesitation, the bald man strained to move his weighty body and knelt down again.
Despite the onerous burden of the name “Bolsheik” weighing heavily on him, making it arduous for him to breathe, he recognized it as a matter of interacting with people.
Isn’t it the hallmark of a skilled merchant to stretch oneself as much as possible while observing their counterpart?
Had Lyna exhibited excessive arrogance and condescension, he might have been able to deal with her more smoothly.
But…
The bald man  gulped down his parched saliva, sensing beads of sweat trickling down the back of his head and cascading down his neck.
The heir to the Bolsheik family, who had blindly assented to an engagement while professing love for the third prince, only to capriciously overturn it like flipping her hand, was not a wild horse with an unbridled rein, as it appeared.
Lyna looked down at them and opened her mouth.
“Becky.”
The next moment.
Clang.
Despite the floor being covered in carpet, the weighty pouch tumbled down with a resounding thud.
The bald man’s ears perked up, and golden coins spilled out, scattering across the floor.
A groan, which could have been either a sigh or an exclamation, escaped the lips of the woman with short hair, who had remained silent since she told them to come inside.
“Ha… haa.”
Becky finally said the words she had longed to say to them, “With this, all my debts are repaid.”
She didn’t even ask how much the debt was.
In fact, whatever the amount of Becky’s debt, it could be settled with just the gold coins that had spilled from the pouch.
And who could ruthlessly increase the debt while dealing with Becky, who was supported by Bolsheik?
Before coming here, Becky, who had received Lyna’s command, went to Sebastian.
‘Oh, my lady said…’
When Becky mentioned an amount four times the debt she remembered, Sebastian, as always, calmly handed over the pouch without asking any questions.
Although the bald man had a dazed expression on his face, his instincts were still alive, diligently gathering the spilled gold coins.
Becky looked down at the bald man with an indescribable expression.
How long had she been waiting for this day?
No, there hadn’t even been hope that such a day would come.
Watching Becky, Lyna whispered to Ainar, who had been quietly observing the situation by her side.
“It seems your luck, no, Ainar, won this time. And…”
Her hesitation lasted only for a brief moment.
“Thank you for coming right away without asking anything.”
At that, a faint smile appeared on Ainar’s lips.
Following that, a soft whisper flowed into Lyna’s ear.
“Whenever you want.”
Thus, for the first time after Lyna’s return, the task she undertook was successfully completed without any issues in her entire life.
Around the time when Lyna, Ainar, and Becky were sitting face to face with the bald man,
An unwelcome guest was raising their voice at Bolsheik Manor.
“The young lady has said she will not meet with anyone.”
“Don’t I not belong to that ‘anyone’?”
Despite Smith’s shouting, Sebastian’s calm face didn’t budge.
“I apologize.”
“Apologize, apologize! Instead of just repeating that, bring Lyna!”
“I apologize.”
Smith closed his eyes tightly in frustration as he couldn’t get through to the unyielding Sebastian.
He pressed his trembling lips and said,
“I will wait here for now since she is not in the mansion…”
Smith, who had shown signs of his mood souring, finally looked around.
Soon after, his face contorted like a completely crumpled piece of tissue.
“This isn’t the usual place, is it? They even frisked me before I came in!”
He burst out in anger, but Sebastian remained silent, keeping his calm expression.
Prior to Lyna’s regression, Smith held a very significant place in her heart.
He was her first love, and seemingly the last love that she would never encounter again.
Unsurprisingly, he was accorded entirely distinct treatment from all other visitors to Bolsheik Manor.
Traditionally, any noble family mandated several protocols before allowing anyone to step inside their estates.
First and foremost among them was, unequivocally, scheduling an appointment.
Bolsheik was no different; even individuals with affiliation to the Bolsheik lineage had to schedule an appointment with their desired contact.
However, Smith was an exception.
He could enter and exit Bolsheik Manor at his discretion, even if his purpose did not involve meeting Lyna.
‘Your Highness, please come to see me anytime.’
Thanks to Lyna’s whispered words with a shy smile.
Following the appointment, the subsequent obligatory step entailed a thorough body search.
It would have been deemed discourteous to conduct a search after scheduling an appointment and gaining entry into the mansion.
However, after the ‘Bloody Evening’ incident that occurred over four decades ago, no one could argue that the search was unwarranted or discourteous.
More than 40 years ago,
During a time when guests invited by the host could move freely to and from the host’s house without any restrictions.
An evening feast, stained with blood, transpired between two families that have since vanished into oblivion.
The host had welcomed the guests with benevolence, but the moment the guests unsheathed their swords, all goodwill was cast aside, and blood flowed thicker than twilight.
Subsequent to that incident, being searched has become a fundamental procedure, even if one was invited by all the family members.
Of course, until Lyna declared the annulment or prior to her regression, Smith was exempt from such protocols.
He strode around Bolsheik Manor, bearing a sword at his hip, with Lyna’s affection and the tacit approval of the duke.
“Sebastian!”
Smith’s voice echoed loudly in the reception room where the uninvited visitors were waiting, but none of the servants, including Sebastian, flinched.
Seeing them not even twitch, Smith eventually shook his head and waved his hand, feeling as if he was talking to a wall.
“Tell Lyna immediately when she arrives that I am here.”
“Yes.”
As giving a notification was not arduous, Sebastian responded succinctly and departed, without even acknowledging Smith’s sarcastic comment.
Smith clenched his teeth while observing Sebastian’s resolute figure moving away.
He yearned to seize Sebastian and unleash his fury until Lyna arrived, akin to a chimney spewing smoke.
Yet, he could never execute such an action.
Not only due to his status as a prince in proximity to the crown prince, but also because he lacked the confidence to withstand the consequences of interfering with Bolsheik’s head steward in a scenario where Lyna had coldly rebuffed him and refused to meet him.
“Damn it.”