Chapter 62: Lovers Cannot Be Together

Mephia sat on the sofa without looking back, while Earl Harris strode into the parlor and took his seat composedly at the head of the table.

He picked up the teapot and poured a cup of tea only for himself.

“If it isn’t Lady Mephia,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of mocking courtesy.

“What brings you to my manor so late? Don’t tell me you intend to investigate the residence of an earl?”

Mephia’s brow twitched.

Her golden eyes remained calm and undisturbed, showing no anger at the Count’s sarcasm.

On the contrary, her voice was cool, carrying a measure of unquestionable sincerity.

“Earl Harris is mistaken. I have no interest in you; I came to see Tia.”

In the parlor, Margaret sighed inwardly upon hearing Mephia’s words.

This was practically dancing in a minefield.

Earl Harris would likely be furious upon hearing that.

Just as she predicted, Earl Harris snorted coldly and slapped the table in front of him with a heavy thud.

“Lady Mephia, Tia is my daughter. I will not agree to the two of you being together,” he said in a low voice.

Mephia’s lips twitched slightly.

“Together?”

Her voice remained calm.

“The Count might be overthinking things. I was simply worried she was frightened the other day, so I came specifically to check on her.”

Earl Harris swept his gaze over her, his eyes filled with cold severity.

Mephia calmly countered, “What is it? Surely the Count isn’t that stingy?”

Earl Harris’s fingers tightened around his teacup.

After a moment of silence, he huffed, “You’ve come at a bad time. She’s already asleep. Come back another time.”

“I’ll just take one look. If she really is asleep, I’ll leave immediately without disturbing her.”

Earl Harris looked at her, their gazes locking for a long time.

Finally, he set down his teacup and sighed.

“Margaret, take her there. Remember, do not disturb Tia’s sleep.”

Margaret bowed slightly.

“Yes, Master.”

Soon, Margaret carried a lamp and led Mephia back to the second floor of the manor.

This time, Margaret’s footsteps were light, as if afraid of waking someone.

Mephia, meanwhile, curled her lips, her thoughts unreadable.

Upon reaching Tia’s bedroom door, Margaret turned back and whispered a reminder: “Keep your voice down. Tia is already asleep.”

Mephia nodded slightly but said nothing.

Just as Margaret reached out and prepared to push the door open gently…

“Mephia? Margaret?”

A familiar voice sounded from behind them.

The two turned around simultaneously.

Tia stood at the other end of the hallway, wearing a plain white nightgown.

Her long hair was loose, looking exceptionally soft under the moonlight.

However, something was strange.

The hem of her skirt was slightly messy, her breathing was unsteady, and her chest rose and fell continuously, as if she had hurried there.

Margaret was stunned.

“Tia?”

She stepped forward quickly and lowered her voice, her tone full of surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

Tia looked at her, then at Mephia standing by the door.

An elusive complexity flickered in her deep blue eyes.

“I…”

She hesitated, her voice carrying a trace of unnoticeable guilt.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came out for a walk.”

Then she paused, her gaze landing on Mephia as she quickly changed the subject.

“What about you? Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you, so I came to see you,” Mephia replied.

It was as if she hadn’t noticed Tia’s odd behavior at all, easily letting her change the subject.

This caused Tia to startle slightly.

“Worried about me?”

She repeated, a warm smile touching her lips.

“Is it because of what happened the other day? Don’t worry, I’m not that fragile.”

As she spoke, her gaze shifted to Margaret before returning to Mephia, her tone gaining a hint of helplessness.

“But if my father sees you, I’m afraid you’ll start arguing again.”

Margaret watched them, observing the two figures silently looking at each other in the moonlight.

She suddenly felt her presence was redundant.

She cleared her throat softly.

“You two talk. I’ll take my leave first. But Miss, remember to rest early.”

She did not wait for Tia’s answer.

Carrying her lamp, she disappeared into the shadows at the end of the hallway.

On her way back, Margaret’s pace was much slower than when she arrived.

She thought of the Master’s words—he would not agree to them being together.

She sighed.

She knew the Master’s temper; he was a man of his word.

Moreover, this concerned Tia’s lifelong happiness.

No matter how powerful the Inquisitor was, she was only an outsider.

How could she shake the Master’s resolve?

But…

She looked up at the moonlit courtyard outside the window.

The image of those two figures looking at each other just now lingered in her mind.

The way they looked at each other… *sigh*.

Margaret shook her head and continued walking.

Being born into the House of the Count was one misfortune for the Young Lady, and falling in love with Mephia was a second.

‘Poor Tia.’

***

In the second-floor hallway, Tia pushed open her bedroom door and stepped aside to let Mephia in, then gently closed the door.

Mephia stood in the center of the room, her gaze slowly scanning the surroundings.

It was a typical bedroom for a noble girl.

Against the wall was a soft, large bed covered in a light blue velvet bedspread.

On the nightstand sat an unlit silver candelabra.

By the window was a small vanity, and on the other side stood a dark brown wardrobe.

Everything here exuded a sense of appropriate luxury and tidiness—except for the duvet on the large bed.

Perhaps because Tia had been sleeping there, the duvet was piled high, vaguely suggesting the shape of a person.

After scanning the room for a moment, Mephia’s gaze landed on the mirror.

“Is this your vanity mirror?”

She walked over and asked.

Tia walked to her side and followed her gaze, her lips curling upward.

“Yes,” her voice held a hint of a smile and a touch of girlish pride.

“It looks quite nice, doesn’t it?”

Mephia nodded slightly.

“Yes, it is nice.”

Her gaze moved away from the mirror and slowly swept across the vanity…

Crystal perfume bottles, a half-open jewelry box, and a white jade comb…

Finally landing on the dark wardrobe against the wall.

The wardrobe door was slightly ajar, leaving a narrow crack through which neatly folded clothes were visible.

Seizing the moment Tia turned her head—

Her finger flicked lightly.

A Transparent Crystal the size of a fingertip slid noiselessly from her sleeve.

It traced an almost imperceptible arc in the air and landed precisely in the crack of the wardrobe, vanishing silently among the layers of clothing.

Tia did not notice anything unusual.