A Deal With The Frigid Wizard

11

A Deal With The Frigid Wizard  Chapter 11


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Chapter 11

As she ate while listening to Hisran’s murmuring like background music, all the plates were bottomed out.

After you eat, you should drink coffee. And so, Jaeha asked the rabbit doll in a cautious voice, and the doll immediately brought two cups of warm coffee.

“Will this work?”

Hisran asked as he set the coffee down on the table.

“What?”

“Coffee or tea should go with dessert.”

To that opinion, she had no choice but to agree.

“I’m just a guest, so I was too embarrassed to ask for this and that, right?”

“Hey, what’s the burden between us?”

As Jaeha tried to reply, ‘We’ve only been together for one night, right?’ she then stopped.

‘Because I don’t have to be offended before the dessert comes in front of me.’

The rabbit doll brought a fresh cream cake topped with strawberries, colorful macarons, and dacquoise in various flavors. The feast of luxurious desserts was pleasing to the eye.

“See, it’s good that our values ​​for food fit so well.”

“Your mother and deputy masters must have unusual tastes.”

Jaeha simply referred to the other’s mother as her custom in Korea, though to Hisran, the words came to him quite differently.

In this class-based society, there were only a limited number of people who could call the Marchioness, like Hisran’s mother, ‘mother.’ Could be a noble Lord who boasts a strong friendship with both Marquisate Ephesion and Hisran, or the prospective daughter-in-law.

He felt a bit strange. It seemed that he became more and more curious about the woman in front of him.

Hisran opened his mouth, picking up a macaron made to be easily swallowed in one bite with his white, fine fingers.

“I talked a lot during the meal, so now, let’s talk about you. Don’t just steal my personal information.”

“Look at this man. When did I ask you to talk?”

“You already heard it.”

“Hmm…”

Jaeha glanced into the black coffee and fell into her thoughts.

Unlike Hisran’s story, which was calm and full of small pleasures, the story of her life is depressing and sad.

“It’s not a soft story like you. You might feel bad after hearing it.”

“If it’s a gloomy story, isn’t now the right time? There will be sweet desserts in front of you.”

At his insignificant response, her heart swayed slightly. It may not be an appropriate metaphor, but wouldn’t it be similar to lamenting to a stranger on a trip?

Life stories were often difficult to tell to people who had even a little bit of acquaintance, but to those who do not have any acquaintances, it was something that can be confided openly.

“I don’t think I’m as lucky as you are.”

She started her story in a low voice.

From a family that didn’t get along well, to greedy relatives, to the difficulties in finding a job that made people desperate, to the hardships she felt while teaching children as an academy teacher. However, she did not tell him about the men who flirted with her and sometimes even sexually harassed her and about the case of the head of the academy’s attempted sexual assault.