“M-my Lady, he’s no servant of yours!” Gertrude, or as Lady Zuri liked to call her, Trudi, was completely baffled. The estate’s cook was chasing a thief, and yet the young mistress of the Duchy mistook the boy for an employee.

Lady Zuri smiled and pointed at the food in the boy’s arms. “Why else would he bring those things? Someone must have sent him for an errand, and he must have made a mistake,” she said, perfectly confident in her wrong assumption.

If it were up to Trudi, she would already have knocked some sense into the naive young lady. But she couldn’t because she was a mere cook.

Even Countess Rita, Lady Zuri’s governess, couldn’t do much to show her the harsh reality of life—that sometimes people stole what didn’t belong to them due to poverty and starvation, as must be the case with this boy.

Soon, the people responsible for creating this gilded sprout appeared. They were, of course, none other than the young lady’s parents.

Duke and Duchess Artig were led by a servant, whom Trudi had ordered to report to them about the theft. But Trudi would never imagine the young lady to be involved. Things weren’t going as smoothly as she had expected with Lady Zuri involved.

The big-eyed beauty rushed to her parents with a wide smile. “Papa! Mama! Trudi said he’s not our servant, but it’s not true, isn’t it? She must have forgotten.”

Forgotten? That was a deep insult for Trudi.

She was a cook who worked without ever jotting down any recipe. She relied solely on her brain to recall the exact measurements and ingredients for each menu. Once she had made it, she would never forget it.

“After all, why would he carry all that food with him if he weren’t working for us?” Lady Zuri stared at her parents, waiting for their agreement, not the real answer.

Duke Artig exchanged glances with his wife. He knew what she wanted to do. His wife had been shielding their daughter from the harsh world, painting it as full of flowers and rainbows. He, too, didn’t want to burst his little girl’s bubble.

“You’re right, darling. It’s not that Gertrude has forgotten. I just haven’t had the chance to inform her,” the Duke said.

Duchess Artig smiled in approval of his action. She brushed Lady Zuri’s hair gently and held her hand. “What are you doing here, Liebes?” She patted Lady Zuri’s hand and touched her cheek. “Isn’t it cold?”

“Oh, I was just welcoming spring. Mama, can’t you smell it?”

Trudi could smell nothing but the fresh bread she had baked that the boy had stolen. She was furious because someone had dared to disrespect the food she had made.

“Come, darling, we can admire it from the window,” Duchess Artig said, pulling her daughter into the house.

Lady Zuri made one last glance at the boy before walking along with her mother.

Now that the ladies were gone, only Duke Artig, Trudi, another servant, and the thief were left. Only now that the duke revealed his true feelings.

“Did you steal from our kitchen?” he asked. The warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced with the authority required for a Duke to manage a Duchy.

The boy kept his head low. Trudi grabbed his thin arm and shook him.

“His Grace asked you a question!” Trudi shouted.

The boy was taller, but Trudi was considerably thicker and stronger than he was. Just one shake was enough to loosen his grasp on the food.

The warm loaf of bread dropped to the wet grass, while the potatoes and apples rolled away from him.

“It’s alright, Gertrude. We shall not be too rough. If you shake him one more time, he might break all of his bones,” Duke Artig said, afraid that his employee would kill someone on his property.

“Forgive me, My Lord,” the boy murmured. Then his stomach growled loudly, louder than the sound of the winter wind. A thick breath came out of his mouth as he touched his stomach.

The Artig family all had naturally good hearts. Knowing how starving the boy was, Duke Artig couldn’t punish him, especially after he told his daughter that the boy was their new servant.

“Give him a warm bowl of soup and some fresh bread,” the duke ordered. He pointed at the fallen bread and said, “Not that one.”

Trudi wanted to protest, but it wasn’t her place. Beggars would kill each other to get that dropped bread. Yet, this thief had not only been freed from punishment, but he also had gotten a job and would be given some fresh bread.

“What’s your name, young man?” the duke asked.

“Emric, My Lord,” the boy answered.

“Emric, after you finish eating, go home and pack your belongings. You’ll start to work tomorrow.”

"Thank you, My Lord!”

Trudi was left feeling frustrated, but this wasn’t the first time the Artig family had done something out of the ordinary. They were the kindest noble Trudi had ever encountered, and that kindness had made her frustrated at times, such as on this occasion.

Once Duke Artig had left the scene, Trudi glared at Emric, her hands on her hips. “You should be thankful that Lady Zuri was there. Otherwise, you’d have to pay for your crime!”

Emric said nothing, and Trudi felt that if she kept at this, she would be the one feeling frustrated, so she let go.

She turned around and headed toward the back door. She glanced back. “What are you waiting for? Don’t you want some warm soup? But let me warn you, you won’t be satisfied by other warm soups once you’ve tasted mine.”

She moves forward before stopping again. “Oh, and take that, will ya? We don’t serve dirty bread here, so you might as well bring it back home.”