Chapter 2
A Guest and an Uninvited Visitor
Trying not to look at the long line of people queued outside the hotel, Lily took a roundabout path and returned to the convent—only to spot a familiar cat in the alley.
A metal tag engraved with “Saint Margarita” glinted at the neck of the rabbit-hopping cat.
“Furball, I told you to catch mice, not birds.”
Perhaps understanding only half her words, the cat dropped its prey and sat neatly on its front paws, as if waiting for praise.
It was a pure white racing pigeon.
A bird aristocrats kept as a hobby—expensive, no less.
“Furball… my goodness. What have you done?”
Lily groaned and reached for the bird, but the cat was faster.
As if rebelling against her, Furball snatched the pigeon up again and sprinted toward the hotel. Lily lifted her skirt like a child and chased after him.
If the hotel found out Furball had killed one of their birds, they wouldn’t let it slide.
Just imagining the bill made her mouth go dry.
The cat leapt lightly onto a wall, clearly enjoying himself, then let out a smug meow before disappearing deeper into the hotel grounds.
“Furball, come back!”
Lily stamped her feet, then squeezed her eyes shut and crawled through the shrubs dividing the convent and the hotel.
The shaded space between the trees was damp. Her apron and stockings were ruined, but this was no time to worry about appearances.
The hotel grounds felt like a fresh little forest.
Neatly trimmed lawns, flowering bulb plants, a small pond—and even swans.
It was an entirely different world from the bleak convent.
“Furball! Wait!”
Looking around frantically, Lily followed the plump cat’s long tail.
She finally found him behind a large decorative greenhouse cabinet filled with exotic tuber plants, fan palms, and seed jars.
“Furball—”
Lily stopped herself mid-call and held her breath.
A strange man had appeared—and he was petting the cat.
Lily had never seen a man so handsome.
His face was delicately sculpted from forehead to nose, as if carved by an artist.
Shadows cast by his deep-set eyes gave him a cool, distant look—but when he smiled faintly, his entire expression changed.
Lily stared at him for a moment as if admiring a work of art, then shuddered, feeling like a sinner.
At that moment, the man—who had been idly twirling a peacock feather—let his smile fade.
He was looking straight at her now.
Suspicion settled over his expression.
“How did you get in here?”
When he stood up, his broad, squared shoulders made him look like a polo player—or a rower.
The way he questioned her made it seem as if she were a thief, while he behaved like the rightful owner of the greenhouse.
“My cat wandered in.”
“This cat?”
Clearly unconvinced, the man watched her closely.
As if to prove her point, Lily called out.
“Furball, come here.”
But the cat ignored her, merely rubbing himself between the man’s legs and meowing.
The man’s expression grew colder by the second.
Panicking, Lily dropped her notebook and clapped her hands.
“At least recognize your owner, you traitor.”
Just as his patience wore thin, the cat finally—miraculously—leapt into Lily’s arms.
Relief washed over her, and she deliberately avoided the man’s gaze.
It was an uncomfortable stare—one she had never felt before.
But the man stopped her with a calm, gentle voice.
His tone was softer than before, yet it carried a weight that pinned her in place.
“If you leave like this, it’ll look exactly like you’re running away.”
He picked up the notebook she had thrown to the floor and handed it back.
“I’m not running away.”
As she took it, several newspaper clippings fluttered out.
He didn’t miss a single word.
“Belmore Hotel Grand Opening.
Exhibition of artworks owned by the Belmore family…
The Greedy Belmore Family?”
Cruelly thorough, he even read the crumpled scrap of paper still clenched in Lily’s hand.
“Are you a Belmore family stalker, Sister?”
Her face burned red as she shook her head.
“I—I collected those for convent business.”
“Oh, what a relief. The world’s corrupt enough as it is—if even a nun lies, I might truly stop believing in God.”
He spoke as if he had known from the beginning that she was lying.
That she lived at the convent.
That she wasn’t staying at the hotel.
“The Belmore family plans to dump the convent in the countryside. We can’t just sit there and let it happen, can we?”
The man took a step closer.
He smelled faintly of cigars and light cologne.
Though she instinctively stepped back, Lily didn’t stop talking.
Once embarrassment crosses a certain line, it turns into boldness. And really, she hadn’t committed any crime.
“The convent will file a lawsuit. We’ll write to Her Majesty and the Prime Minister. We won’t let Belmore trample over us.”
At her confident declaration, the man smiled as if amused.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You’re going to take on Belmore? That convent was built on Belmore land.”
He spoke as if stating an undeniable truth—like explaining to a child that one plus one equals two.
“There’s no need to argue. You’ll have to give it up.”
“And why do you think that? You don’t even know how cruel Belmore is! Are you Belmore yourself or something?”
He pulled out a pocket watch, checked the time, and sighed quietly.
By now, Lily had crossed her arms and was glaring at him like an interrogator.
Their standoff didn’t last long.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the greenhouse, followed by the shrill voice of an agitated man.
“I told you to keep the greenhouse doors open! Why are they closed?”
The voice belonged to the hotel manager, visible between the tall palm trees.
“And that thieving cat—just wait until I catch it! I’ll make sure it never does this again—I’ll break its legs—”
Both pairs of eyes snapped to Furball.
Judging by the tone alone, Lily and the cat were doomed if they were caught.
Lily swallowed hard.
As the manager’s voice drew closer, she shoved the man behind the cabinet in a panic.
“What are you—”
“Please, stay still!”
Because she didn’t let go of his lapel as he fell, Lily ended up sprawled right on top of him.
Her bangs brushed against his forehead.
This was not the time to think about that.
“I heard a noise over here.”
The manager’s furious voice was right beside the cabinet now.
Holding her breath, Lily finally failed to suppress a shallow exhale.
A chill ran up the man’s neck.
“Do you realize how ridiculous we look right now?”
“Be quiet. We’ll be caught.”
“Perhaps the nun should be—”
Lily grabbed his shirt so hard her knuckles turned white. His body heated instantly.
“Shh!”
The man flinched when her hand touched his mouth.
She was about to beg him to stay still when she saw polished shoes stop directly in front of them—and clamped her own mouth shut.
“Who’s there? This is Lord Belmore’s private greenhouse.”
At those words, the man sighed.
His warm breath brushed against Lily’s face.
He calmly removed her hand from his shirt and rose to his feet—while Lily was still sitting on his stomach.
As she scrambled to come up with an excuse, an astonishingly composed voice left his lips.
“I didn’t realize this was a restricted area.”
“What?”
But someone was even more shocked than Lily.
The manager gaped, having forgotten to use honorifics entirely.
He had seen plenty of nobles sneaking around with maids—but never imagined Lord Belmore himself would do such a thing.
“We’ll be leaving shortly.”
Belmore played his role like a seasoned actor.
And the manager, thankfully, wasn’t slow-witted.
“Ahem… yes. Of course.”
Pretending not to notice his master’s awkward situation was basic servant etiquette. He even kindly closed the greenhouse door on his way out.
An awkward silence followed.
The man’s chest was visible through his open shirt, and Lily’s hair was a mess.
They looked like scandalous lovers finishing a secret tryst before returning to polite society.
Lily brushed dirt off her apron.
Anyone could come in at any moment.
The man stared at her intently.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect you to hide me.”
Instead of answering, he stared at her as if she were a talking rabbit.
“You look ridiculous.”
He handed her a handkerchief.
Only then did Lily realize she had been touching her face with filthy hands.
The silk handkerchief was neatly folded and smelled wonderful.
“Th-thank you. Is it gone now?”
It was far too luxurious.
Until now, the only handkerchiefs Lily knew were the ones Uncle Oliver carried alongside coins, nails, and peppermint candies.
“Let’s go. If we stay any longer, we’ll really be late.”
He walked behind her.
They exited the greenhouse separately, but Lily had no idea where to go.
“This way. A hotel guest who doesn’t even know the exit.”
When she hesitated, he stepped ahead.
The hotel was packed with people, and carriages lined the street beyond the gates.
It was a scene she hadn’t noticed when sneaking in through the trees.
Guests poured endlessly from ornate carriages.
Amid that crowd, Lily—clutching a cat and a notebook—stood out like a complete oddity.
No wonder he had mocked her for being a nun.
She tugged awkwardly at the stiff sleeves of her checked wool dress.
But they were too short for her arms and quickly rolled back up.
When she finally managed to tear her eyes away from the overwhelming spectacle and looked around for the man, he was already gone.
It felt unreal—like a spell had been cast.
Lily tucked the handkerchief into her apron and slipped out of the hotel grounds.
Behind her, a plump, big-faced cat followed proudly, tail held high.
