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A thick pile of documents was stacked on the lord’s desk.

There wasn’t enough space, so more documents were piled beside the desk as well.

Russell sat alone in the lord’s office, while his aides worked in the adjoining office.

But Russell couldn’t concentrate on his work.

All he could see were papers and words, yet none of it entered his mind.

“Milord.”

There was a knock at the door, and Vernon, one of the aides, entered.

“The madam is in the sitting room…”

Before Vernon could finish speaking, Russell stood up.

“Wrap things up and leave when it gets dark.”

“Yes, Milord.”

Watching Russell’s retreating back, Vernon thought to himself.

‘He doesn’t intend to return to the office today, it seems.’

It was still early afternoon.

Vernon smirked.

‘Better they get along than not.’

Few things are as nerve-wracking as witnessing discord between one’s superiors.

.

.

When Russell opened the sitting room door, a maid was placing down a teacup.

Cecilia sat on the sofa, holding the teacup, and turned her head toward him.

She looked like a painting.

“We don’t need anything else—you may leave,” he said.

“Yes, Milord.”

Russell sat across from Cecilia and took in the sight of her setting the teacup down. It was just an ordinary action, but he couldn’t look away.

“You were supposed to be working. Are you sure it’s alright to leave?”

“It’s not urgent. I’m doing inventory. It’ll take over two weeks.”

“Inventory?”

Russell explained the annual winter task.

In the three months before winter, everyone worked tirelessly to stockpile supplies. Medicinal herbs were harvested, fruits picked, and hunting trips organized. Villages also traded goods among themselves.

Once winter began, they sorted and documented the stockpiled goods. So, the paperwork was the responsibility of the lord and his administrators.

“That just tells me that you actually are busy. Come over here.”

Cecilia placed a jar of ointment on the table and motioned to him.

Russell immediately got up like an obedient child and sat beside her.

He unbuttoned his shirt and turned, pulling it down to reveal his back.

‘Hmm…’

Cecilia blinked several times.

Seeing the scratch marks she had left on his back in broad daylight made her feel incredibly embarrassed.

‘They looked much redder in the hot spring.’

At that time, the scratches had appeared severe.

Now, after half a day, they seemed to have faded significantly.

The vivid red streaks had disappeared, leaving only faint marks.

Cecilia opened the jar, scooped out some ointment, and carefully applied it around the scratches.

His skin felt firm beneath her fingertips.

“Does it hurt?”

“…Not at all.”

Russell summoned his voice from his diaphragm to answer.

Far from painful, every spot she touched tingled, and that tingling spread throughout his body, turning into heat.

“All done…”

She trailed off mid-sentence, her eyes widening.

All she had done was apply the ointment, but the redness of the scratches was already fading.

“Is there something odd about your skin?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s healing already.”

“Oh, that ointment works well on minor wounds.”

‘Works well is an understatement.’

Aristocratic ladies, with their delicate skin, often got small injuries—while filing their nails, flipping pages, or brushing against thorns.

Though not severe, these minor injuries were surprisingly bothersome.

And because they were small, they were often neglected.

There was even a tale of a noblewoman who died after a thorn scratch became severely infected.

‘The maids use this too, so it can’t be rare.’

Cecilia revised her thoughts.

‘It’s just not rare in Lagos.’

She had lived in the wealthiest and most luxurious city on the continent, enjoying the best money and power could buy.

What she would’ve dismissed at twenty now caught her attention.

‘Lagos is full of rare and fascinating things. No wonder the Ewen Guild comes here.’

The Ewen Merchant Guild was the only one that regularly conducted business directly at Lagos Castle.

Cecilia had assumed their guild leader had a special connection to Lagos or was making a long-term investment despite immediate losses.

‘But perhaps…’

They might already be reaping significant benefits from Lagos.