Silas gave a brief hand signal.

"Clear everything. Transport the goods in order," he instructed calmly.

His men moved at once. Some began lifting the chests, while others rearranged the weighing area. There was no commotion—everything proceeded quickly and neatly, clearly well-rehearsed.

Silas then turned to Lucas and inclined his head slightly.

"Thank you for your trust today, Young Master."

Lucas gave a small nod. "Yes."

A brief reply. Nothing more.

Silas did not prolong it. As usual, with impeccable courtesy, he took his leave. He turned and began walking toward his wagon, intending to wait until all the goods were fully loaded.

Mid-stride, he spoke without turning around. "Lilia."

"Yes, sir?" the maid replied promptly.

"Is something bothering you?" Silas asked flatly.

Lilia hesitated for a fraction of a second, then answered politely, "Nothing, sir."

Silas paused. He glanced to the side—directly toward Liona.

"You seem to have been watching her for some time," he said plainly. "If you wish to speak with her, I can request a moment from the Young Master."

Lilia looked startled. Her eyes widened slightly, then she lowered her gaze again. "If… if possible," she replied softly, hesitant.

Silas did not wait any longer. He immediately turned back and walked toward Lucas.

"Excuse me, Young Master," he said formally. "It appears my maid would like to speak briefly with your maid. May I have your permission?"

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

He glanced briefly at Liona, then back at Silas. "Fine. Go ahead."

Liona smiled faintly at once. She stepped forward and bowed neatly to both Lucas and Silas. "Thank you, Young Master. Thank you, Sir Silas."

Silas nodded. "Go ahead."

He then took his leave again and continued toward the wagon.

Not long after, Liona and Lilia moved away from the crowd. They stopped at the edge of the field, far enough from others to avoid being overheard.

For a moment, the two stood in silence.

Lilia was the first to speak. "…Thank you for taking the time."

Liona shook her head lightly. "Lia, why are you being so stiff?"

---

Lucas was still holding the small chest when he spoke.

"Everyone, gather."

His voice was not loud, but it carried.

One by one, they moved.

Mae stepped forward first, her posture straight.

Lina followed close beside her, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

Geralt came next, looking tense out of habit, with his wife standing slightly behind him, her expression wary but attentive.

Even Anya—the little knight—ended up joining them, standing stiffly at the edge of the group, clearly unsure why she was included but too disciplined to question it.

They formed a loose line in front of Lucas.

Silvara took her place beside him, standing half a step back, her presence firm and silent—like an unspoken warning.

Lucas looked at them all, the small chest of coins still steady in his hands.

The field fell quiet.

Lilia hesitated for a moment, then stepped half a pace closer.

"Nana… are you sick?" she asked softly. "You're so thin, and… are you not eating enough?"

There was no awkwardness in her tone at all. It sounded more like a younger sister openly worrying about her older sister.

Liona blinked, clearly surprised. "What do you mean, Lia?" she replied, confused. "I'm fine."

Lilia frowned slightly, clearly unconvinced. "…But it looks like you're pushing yourself too hard."

She fell silent for a moment, then continued more carefully. "In that case… why don't you come work with Sir Silas instead? You wouldn't have to worry about tomorrow. Your work would be clear, and your meals assured"

Liona's brows immediately knit together. "That won't work, Lia," she said firmly.

Lilia fell silent at once.

"I'm already working under the Baroness," Liona continued calmly. "I can't just leave."

Her tone was gentle, but her decision was clear.

Lilia lowered her head slowly, her fingers clenching lightly at her sides. "Nana… come on. You don't have to suffer. You could still come with Sir Silas…"

The worried look on her face did not fade.

Liona calmly patted Lilia's shoulder. "You're just worrying too much. It's fine—I'm really okay."

"But…" Lilia's eyes began to glisten.

Lilia lifted her head again, her voice trembling slightly.

"Back then… Nana was healthy," she said softly. "Tall. Strong. You could even hug me so easily—but now…"

She looked downward—not out of sadness, but simply because Liona's head was indeed lower; Lilia was much taller than her now.

Liona's brow twitched.

"…What do you mean," she said flatly, "are you trying to say I'm short?"

She immediately reached out and pinched Lilia's cheek. "Hey. You little brat."

"Ah—" Lilia winced slightly, then smiled instead.

That smile stirred memories. It had always been like this—being scolded, pinched, corrected. Always by Nana.

Liona snorted softly. "You, honestly," she said. "It's not that I became thin or smaller."

She released the pinch. "You're just the one who's grown up."

Lilia finally became aware of the sounds behind them—the clatter of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels beginning to move. The goods were almost finished being loaded.

Yet before truly giving up, she looked at Liona one more time.

"Nana… come with me," she said softly, still trying to persuade her. "Sir Silas is a good man. He treats the maids like his own daughters."

Liona shook her head slowly. "And I'm grateful you can work under someone so kind."

She then looked at Lilia gently. "But it was the Baroness who saved my life back then. I can't leave her."

Lilia fell silent, her lips pressed tightly together. She was clearly dissatisfied, but she no longer pressed the issue.

Liona smiled faintly. "The little crybaby from back then," she said lightly, "is working in a good place now."

Lilia's face flushed slightly.

From a distance, the sound of the cargo wagon was clear—the horses had begun to pull it away.

Lilia turned her head, then looked back at Liona. "…I have to go back."

She bowed briefly. "I hope the best for you, Nana. Goodbye..."

Liona nodded. "Don't worry," she said softly. "I'll be fine."

Lilia hesitated for a fraction of a second, then turned and broke into a small run toward the wagon.

---

The small chest was already closed.

One by one, Lucas handed out the wages.

Clean. Direct. No ceremony.

Mae froze the moment she saw the amount placed into her hands.

Lina stood beside her—completely stunned, eyes wide, breath caught.

Their reactions were too obvious to miss.

Lucas noticed. "…Why both of you are looking like that?" he asked flatly.

Lina jolted. "Y–Young Master, this amount is equivalent to—"

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