Catherine did not want much.

Even if she did not have luxurious clothes and shoes, she was alright with her hideously frayed bedroom curtains and her shoes that were so worn at the soles it was different in height.

It had been two years since she started enduring it for the sake of her late mother.

She no longer felt the need to do that.

"Alright, I'll leave."

Catherine was tired of everything.

"Are you the Pope's watchdog? You've done well coming all the way here."

The man who intruded her home was drenched from head to toe. She could see mud squished beneath his black leather boots.

Unbelievable. To think he would drag in not grass, but mud, while she was cleaning the floors!

"You've got quite the disguise. Even I was almost fooled into thinking that you're just an ordinary city woman---" "Wipe it."

She pushed the rag she held onto the man.

"Why are you looking at me so foolishly? I told you to wipe the floor. And it's not proper to show your sword when it's our first time meeting each other. Is it not enough that you intruded that you would want to be reported for attempted murder?"