**Chapter 4: Determined (2)** "What troubles you, Alessandra?" Mario's voice broke through her reverie as she stood there, lost in thought. "Nothing much. Just contemplating the whims of life," she replied, taking the food and jug from his hands. She hated to prolong his stay outside; the hours stretched thin before her. "Just three more hours, and then we'll finally find some peace." "Trust me, Alessandra, things will improve soon," Mario said, his voice infused with warmth. "All the whispers, your father's heavy hand, the way you live—these shadows will lift, I promise." “Are you trying to sell me that whole ‘rainbow at the end of the storm' nonsense?” she teased, a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. “No, no, absolutely not!” Mario interrupted with an exaggerated wave of his hand, as if to shoo the very thought away. "When was the last time you saw a rainbow here in Lockwood? I’ve been in this dreary town long enough to know one thing—it’s about as likely as a miracle. Let's just say there’ll be joy when the next shipment of rum hits the docks.” “Mario,” she sighed, raising an eyebrow. Given the way he had a penchant for rum even during work hours, it was likely he had already indulged. Whenever he brought up the topic of rum, it always hinted that he had partaken. “What? It’s what keeps my spirits up!” he chuckled, exemplifying his jest. “Why else do you think I tolerate this tiresome event tonight? I wouldn’t waste good rum on the likes of our guests. They prefer their cheap wine anyway. But I saved you a little treat.” He patted the jug now nestled in her grasp. “Enjoy tonight. You deserve it.” “I don’t get drunk easily,” she countered, recalling how her drinking sessions with Mario had revealed a rather impressive tolerance. “Just immerse yourself in the moment. You don’t need to be tipsy to enjoy it.” With that, he turned and retreated toward the kitchen, mindful of the scalding gaze he’d receive for his absence. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice almost lost in the ambient noise. Alessandra cast her eyes down at the food and drink, then took one last glance at the kitchen door. “Time to head back,” she murmured to herself, her footsteps light as she retraced her steps. Her brief chat with Mario had brightened her mood, infusing her with a sense of assurance that her meeting with the Duke the following day would unfold favorably. Soon, she would be married and free from the burdens of her family. "Why are they all so rude? Can’t they fetch their own drinks? Just take it if you dislike the way I serve them!" She caught the scathing words of a maid, seething with frustration as she approached. In her furious rant, the maid barely noticed her surroundings, her eyes flaring toward the guests as she flicked her middle finger behind her. "You’d better hush your voice," Alessandra warned gently, realizing the girl had no awareness of her presence. “A-Alessandra?” The maid blanched, stepping back, her eyes widening in terror at the sight of Alessandra's black mask, which cloaked most of her features. "P-Please don’t hurt me!" "Hurt you?" Alessandra looked down at her hands, puzzled. Unless she was planning on initiating a food fight, there was no way she could harm anyone. When would everyone abandon the wild speculations and start using their common sense? "I-I’m just doing my job. Please, don’t kill me," the maid babbled, shielding her face with trembling hands. Had she taken a different path, she would have never crossed Alessandra’s path. It was almost comical, the fear that gripped her. Alessandra strolled past, unfazed, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy in her warning. She believed with all her heart that Katrina possessed some uncanny ability to hear gossip about her guests from the other side of the manor. It was uncanny how often she would turn up right on time, having caught someone talking ill of her or her friends. Perhaps Katrina was not from this world at all. "Maybe she fell from the heavens," Alessandra mused to herself, laughter bubbling silently in her chest. It could very well be true. As she made her way through the corridors, she passed by the place where she had encountered Edgar earlier, his shadow melding into the doorway on the opposite end of the house from the kitchen. She found herself in a small room overflowing with garden tools, leading her toward an empty hallway. Her father had no patience for guests wandering freely around the household—he preferred everything orderly and predictable to prevent even the smallest gossip from bubbling to the surface. As the distant melody resonated more clearly around her, Alessandra couldn’t resist skipping a few steps, twirling with joy. "What a delightful tune they're playing now!" she chimed softly to herself. Just to the left of the festivities lay her somber room, the hallway bathed in a dim light with flickering lanterns slowly dying out from neglect. Yet, she forged ahead, placing the jug down to free her hands before pushing open her bedroom door. "Meow..." A soft, quivering sound greeted her. “Kitty!” Alessandra exclaimed, spotting the orange furball peeking out at her. "What did I tell you about lingering at the door? If someone saw you, they would surely take you away. Do you wish to abandon me?" With a gentle nudge from her foot, she coaxed the kitten back inside her room before it could dart out into the halls. Her father was an ardent admirer of dogs, and the mere thought of a cat in the house was enough to invoke his ire. “Stay put; it’s safer here, and I brought some food.” “Why do you seem to understand the concept of 'food' all of a sudden?” she questioned playfully as the kitten sat obediently, gazing up at her in anticipation. “Here you go. Enjoy this lovely piece of meat,” she said, placing it down for the eager creature. With the kitten distracted and the door secured shut, Alessandra turned to her desk, a rumble in her belly reminding her to eat before it announced its presence more dramatically. She laid the plate and jug on the desk, then took a seat, finally able to slip off her mask in the comforting solitude of her room where no one could judge her. Here, behind closed doors, she felt a sense of liberation, free from the stares and whispers that accompanied her mask. As the soft strains of music drifted through the air, she savored each bite in silence, counting down the moments until this long day would end and she could finally speak with Edgar once more.