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n?Howard tilted his head slightly, settling into a comfortable position as he murmured, “Ah, I’m a bit tired now. Just let me lie here for a while.”

nNia covered her mouth, her laughter barely contained.

nThe woman with the bucket waist, seemingly eager to speak her mind, glanced at her husband and gestured subtly towards the door with her eyes.

nNia’s father said to her, “Take good care of him.”

nThen, he walked towards the door, the middle-aged woman following suit.

nOnce they had put some distance between themselves and the cabin, arriving at the riverbank, Nia’s father broached the subject, “What’s on your mind? You can speak freely now; we’re far enough from the cabin. He won’t hear us.”

nThe woman with the bucket waist finally voiced her thoughts, “Husband, the man Nia brought this time seems to have taken a liking to her.”

n“Taken a liking? What do you mean?” the man inquired, curiosity piqued.

nWith a coquettish demeanor, the woman replied, “Oh, you know what I mean.”

nA playful expression crossed the man’s face as he stroked his stubble-covered chin with his rough hand, pondering, “But the fellow seems to be of noble birth. Just the clothes he wears are worth more than what our family makes in a year. Even if he has taken a liking to Nia, it would be difficult for us to have him as our son-in-law.”

nAdopting an air of worldly wisdom, the woman said, “Ah, husband, those nobles wouldn’t spare us a second glance. We shouldn’t harbor any illusions about Nia marrying him and becoming his wife. But, if Nia could establish a very close relationship with him, wouldn’t we have everything we could possibly want?”

nThe man fell into contemplation, hesitating, “A very close relationship… with a noble?”

nThe middle-aged woman clearly intended to coax her husband into supporting her scheme, saying, “Think about it, if we could become that young man’s in-laws, or even just an uncle and aunt, without the need for marriage.”

n“Our daughter being close to him, wouldn’t we have everything? Gold, houses, boats, passes—all would be ours, wouldn’t they? We could even mingle in high society, spend money to attend prestigious concerts, critique the latest luxury trends, and then dismiss them as vulgar. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

nThe man kicked a small stone at the edge of the riverbed, hesitating as he said, “But all this would depend on Nia’s own feelings…”

nInside the cabin, Howard asked Nia, “Are you a resident of Venice?”

n“Yes, my family has lived here since I was a child.”

n“And where is this? The upper or lower riverbank?”

nNia, with a hint of self-deprecation, replied, “Neither the upper nor the lower riverbank. This is a gutter, a slum.”

n“Where did you find me?”

n“You were lying on a gravel beach. There used to be a river flowing through it, but then the Doge of Venice built a dam, and now there’s only the gravel beach left.”

n“How long was I unconscious?”

n“I don’t know, but you were completely still, deeply unconscious.”

nHoward took a deep breath before asking again, “What is the date today?”

nHe needed to know if he had been unconscious for too long.

nAfter all, when he and Laurent were discussing in Markhan’s house, the birthday of the eldest daughter of the Sheffield family was the day after tomorrow, and five days later was the scheduled voting meeting of the five great families of Venice.

nHoward needed to ascertain whether he had missed these important events.

nNia pondered before responding, “Today is February 19th. Are you particularly concerned about the time?”

nHoward realized that the evening of February 17th was when he and Laurent had been planning, and then, on the morning of February 18th, they had set off in a boat towards Rose Jewelers.

nTheir mission was to acquire a breathtakingly unique piece of jewelry as a birthday gift for the eldest daughter of the Sheffield family on the evening of February 19th, ultimately securing an audience with the patriarch of the Sheffield family.

nGlancing at the sunlight filtering through the window, Howard guessed it was still morning but, feeling somewhat uneasy, inquired, “Is it noon or morning on February 19th?”

nNia confirmed it was still the morning.

nHoward pieced together the events: on the morning of February 18th, he had encountered danger, diving into the water to evade arrows, subsequently being overpowered by the water and losing consciousness.

nThe waves had carried him to a gravel beach, and at some undetermined point, Nia had rescued him from the beach to her home.

nIt was now the morning of February 19th.

nLess than a day remained until the birthday celebration of the Sheffield family’s eldest daughter on the evening of February 19th.

nHoward was currently dressed in a thin garment riddled with holes, resembling paper in its fragility, its white hue only a vague suggestion of what it once was.

nThe white mingled with stains, indicating that, despite recent attempts at cleaning, years of grime were ingrained in the fabric.

nHoward’s original clothes were hanging outside.

nTurning to Nia, he stated, “I have a pressing matter to attend to today; I’ll need to step out for a bit.”

nNia cradled Howard’s head with a tender expression, saying, “You’ve been unconscious until just now. You shouldn’t move about; please, lie down and rest a bit, okay?”

nStubbornly, Howard forced himself to sit up from the edge of the bed.

nConveniently, a cotton slipper, seemingly prepared for Howard, was right by the bed.

nHe slipped his foot into it, sitting on the edge of the bed.

nNia’s parents entered the cabin, and upon seeing Howard as if ready to leave, Nia’s mother displayed a look of bitter panic on her face, as if she was about to miss a train or fail to grasp a lifeline.

nShe hurriedly mustered a smile, placing two slices of dark bread on a plate and handing it to Howard.

n“What’s the hurry? Don’t rush off. You’ve been unconscious for so long, you must be hungry. Have some bread to fill your stomach first.”

nHoward glanced up slightly at the woman with the bucket waist.

nFor a moment, she feared her ulterior motives had been seen through by someone of Howard’s stature.

nThe plate she held with the dark bread trembled and almost dropped mid-air.

nNia, quick to react, caught the plate in time, the two slices of bread still perfectly in place.

nHoward, having just woken up and still not fully recovered, uttered curtly, “Be careful.”

nThe woman with the bucket waist hastily offered a placating smile, trying her best to please Howard.

nNia took Howard’s hand, urging, “Eat up, you must be hungry after just waking up.”

nHoward eyed the dark bread, unable to fathom what dangers might be lurking within such a seemingly innocuous offering.

nWhat secrets the dark bread held, only its maker knew.

nGrowing up in a poor village within the Viscount family’s constraints, Howard was raised on dark bread.

nHe knew all too well that eating dark bread required utmost caution, a luxury rarely affording the satisfaction and peace of mind that comes with consuming food.

nEach bite of the dark bread was a venture fraught with unexpected and often startling outcomes.

nHoward’s father, Old Frank, once bit into a small stone hidden within the dark bread, losing a tooth in the process.

nFrank’s most famous saying was: “Eating dark bread is no less challenging than going to war.”

nThis sentiment echoed Howard’s trepidation as he faced the dark bread once again.

nNia, with eyes wide in anticipation, urged, “Come on, eat. What are you waiting for?”

nNia’s mother quickly intervened to ease the tension, saying, “Oh dear, why pressure him like that? He’s a person of importance, unaccustomed to the dark bread we keep in the slums. It’s understandable. He’s used to the fragrant aroma of white bread and the rich taste of fine wine daily. We can’t compare to that.” 𝘪𝑎..

nHoward blinked, gathering his thoughts, and before Nia could show her disappointment, he took the plate holding the dark bread with both hands.

nWithout showing any signs of disgust, he grabbed a slice and began to eat.

nHoward ate slowly, each small bite followed by a cautious exploration with his tongue for any remnants or splinters, or the unknown contents that one might dread finding in such bread.

nAfter each nibble, he would discreetly spit out a tiny bit of debris back onto the plate.

nNia glanced at her mother, her shock evident, “You’re right, he’s not one of us from the slums. No poor soul here would struggle so much with eating dark bread.”

nWitnessing this, Nia’s father grew even more convinced of Howard’s noble origins, seeing it as a golden opportunity for their family.

nAfter some thought, he wore a cheerful smile and stepped outside the cabin, deliberately creating space within the room to please Howard.

nHoward, acknowledging that he was not from the slums, decided to cloak his past under the guise of an ordinary citizen of Venice.

nHowever, Nia’s mother incessantly probed into every aspect of Howard’s life with a meticulous and almost frenzied curiosity, unraveling thread by thread, unwilling to leave any stone unturned in her inquiry.

nVisit .

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