The carriage rocked gently as it rolled over the cobbled streets, the sound muted beneath thick velvet curtains.
Inside, the girl sat upright on the sofa, one hand resting lightly on her subordinate's arm for balance. The other adjusted the silver clasp at her collar before drawing the dark veil back over her face.
Across from her, her subordinate—still pale from earlier anxiety—finally gathered the courage to speak.
"…My lady," he began carefully, "about the Hanhyul disease. If those physicians turned out to be frauds, we can still arrange… follow-up measures."
He chose his words with precision. In their line of work, "follow-up measures" could mean anything from discreet compensation to a quiet disappearance.
The girl didn't even look at him.
"It's unnecessary," she replied, voice cool but steady. "That part has been completely cured."
The subordinate blinked.
"Completely…?"
"Yes."
