Chapter 180: Be Careful
Clark simply washed his face, then changed into the clothes the master of the castle had given him. As he was preparing to change, he suddenly remembered Mireille’s advice; she had said the red outfit suited him well.
Recalling the smile and words of the cute maid, he thought about it and decided to follow her suggestion and change into that outfit.
Facing the mirror in the room, Clark adjusted his attire. The Clark in the mirror had a furrowed brow. He wasn’t admiring his own handsomeness because the fashion that was popular among nobles around the 17th century had deeply stimulated his sense of aesthetics.
It took him quite some time to figure out how to wear these clothes. Moreover, the style and colors of these garments were far too exaggerated for him, making them somewhat difficult to accept.
“Why do I have to wear stockings…” Clark felt the touch of the high-quality, soft silk fabric against his skin, a sense of shame and helplessness welling up in his heart.
Of course, what made him even more helpless was yet to come, as he also had a pair of high heels he had to wear.
Having finished dressing and tidying his appearance, Clark stood blankly in front of the mirror, doubting his life for a long time. It wasn’t until he heard Butler Valente knocking on the door that he snapped back to reality. He answered and opened the door, then followed behind Butler Valente back into the restaurant.
The castle was truly vast. On his way back to the restaurant, Clark had been trying to secretly memorize the maze-like route he saw. The more he deliberately tried to remember, the more he couldn’t help but secretly sigh.
Returning to the restaurant, Clark greeted the Bluebeard the Count, who had been waiting for a long time: “I apologize for keeping you waiting, my esteemed Bluebeard the Count.”
“Ho ho ho, Mr. Clark, you look more like a noble gentleman now,” Bluebeard the Count said, clapping lightly in praise.
“Thank you for your affirmation.” Clark nodded slightly and, at Bluebeard the Count’s gesture, took his seat at the dining table.
Looking at the steaming bread in front of him, Clark’s eyes and heart were drawn to it. He suddenly felt truly hungry and couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.
Bluebeard the Count noticed Clark’s eagerness to eat and grinned, saying, “Then, without further ado, let’s start eating.”
As he spoke, Bluebeard glanced at Butler Valente, who was waiting nearby. Valente understood, slowly and unhurriedly clapped his hands. Immediately, Mireille, the cute maid Clark had met before, and another sexy and charming red-haired maid pushed a food cart and walked in.
“This is our cook tonight, and also the most beautiful maid in our castle. Her name is Hera.” Bluebeard the Count’s gaze was mainly focused on Hera’s graceful figure as the two maids pushed the food cart in. His eyes showed no disguise of his strong desire. His thick tongue licked the edge of his submerged lips. As Hera passed him, Bluebeard the Count’s behavior was exaggerated; he leaned his head forward and pressed it against her lower abdomen, deeply inhaling the faint floral scent emanating from her body through the fabric of her clothes.
Mireille was a bit timid and withdrawn, but she was smart enough to stand behind Bluebeard the Count, trying not to appear in his line of sight. Fortunately, Bluebeard the Count’s interest in Hera was far greater than in her.
Hera was unfazed by Bluebeard the Count’s actions. Instead, she returned his smile with a silent, charming one, then served him the appetizer for the evening, a baked cheese snail.
“Oh, Hera, you are as fragrant as tonight’s delicacy,” Bluebeard the Count said with a sinister grin.
Hera smiled and replied, “Thank you for your compliment, my Lord Count.”
Clark sat by the side and witnessed all of this. He secretly grumbled in his heart about the other man’s despicable behavior. Indeed, the more he looked at him, the more he realized this fellow was no good.
While secretly criticizing Bluebeard the Count, Clark also made sure to observe the expressions and actions of the other people present.
Butler Valente seemed accustomed to everything and showed no reaction. He was as cold as a stone. While his etiquette might be that of a gentleman, his true disposition could hardly be called that of a “gentleman.” Of course, Clark understood the butler’s complete acceptance of his master’s every action, perhaps out of loyalty.
Although the beautiful Hera appeared composed on the surface, not flinching or resisting Bluebeard the Count’s impertinent actions, and even managing a natural smile, Clark noticed that she sped up her pace when serving Bluebeard the Count. Clearly, she was also uncomfortable and resisting internally, but… alas, the wicked feudal lords.
Poor Mireille, her emotions were almost written all over her face…
This dinner was generally good. The cook, Maid Hera, had excellent culinary skills, bringing Clark delicious and wonderful dishes. However, the dining experience was greatly diminished by the presence of the castle’s master, Bluebeard the Count.
After dinner, Bluebeard the Count posed a few questions to Clark and chatted for a while.
“Mr. Clark, where do you come from, and where are you headed?”
“I’m from the south and heading north,” Clark gave a vague answer.
“Doing business?”
“Yes… yes.”
“…”
Facing Bluebeard the Count’s inquiries about his background, Clark tried to be as vague as possible. He was nervous, his palms sweating, and he silently prayed for the other man to end the topic soon.
As if God had heard his prayer, Bluebeard the Count didn’t chat with Clark for too long. After a few brief exchanges, he stood up and said he was going back to his room to rest. He even kindly suggested Clark rest early as well.
Back in the bedroom where he was temporarily staying, Clark felt as if he had used up all his strength. He collapsed onto the bed, and the long-accumulated cold sweat streamed down his forehead.
Letting out a long sigh, Clark took out his pocket watch from his clothing pocket, checked the time again, and read aloud, “It is now eight forty-five in the morning.”
“I should go to bed early,” Clark comforted himself, put away his pocket watch, tucked it under his pillow, and then began to undress.
While checking his personal belongings for anything he might have missed, he suddenly discovered a small hidden pocket on the collar of his red jacket. The fabric and color of the collar were so similar to the rest of the jacket that he hadn’t felt anything was wrong when he put it on. It was only when he noticed a slightly greasy spot on the collar and touched it that he realized.
“How did it get smeared on?” Clark recalled and thought, “I remember the position was… Mireille was standing behind me? Did she smear it on deliberately?”
He felt it carefully and sensed a slightly hard, small protrusion on the collar. It wasn’t obvious, being small and thin, making it difficult to feel the presence of a foreign object.
Realizing this might be some kind of hint, Clark opened the small pocket on the collar and found a folded piece of paper inside. Upon opening it, he found a square piece of paper, less than two centimeters in length and width, with the single word “careful” written on it!
