Chapter 11

"……What?"

"Not the 'unlucky' kind of suck. The 'no manners, no class' kind of suck."

Even after that pretty bold line, Lyssel's expression didn't shift an inch.

But a small question did surface. Who exactly is this woman?

She said she'd lost her memory—could that really shift someone's entire personality?

"Madam."

"Yeeess?"

"Get out."

"…Hmph."

Of course, it was just a small question. Nothing actually changed.

---

Either way, she'd gotten permission to do what she wanted with the estate and confirmation that he wasn't going to kill her, and Iberin decided to be satisfied with just that.

She'd told Lyssel he sucked, sure, but if she was being honest, what she mostly felt was still pity.

Maybe because she knew his future.

For someone who looked that strong to make up his mind to kill himself, no matter how unbothered he seemed on the outside, part of him had to be rotted through.

He was just acting like it didn't touch him.

"Grand Duke."

"You again…"

"Hehe."

"What's funny?"

"You're not kicking me out."

"Get out."

"You barely finished saying tha—"

"Get out."

"I'll go if you say you'll eat with us."

"……Get out."

Iberin's daily routine these days was playing with Ether, eating meals, then loading up an armful of work and bringing it to Lyssel's place to hang around for hours. Alone, of course……

The job of ferrying paperwork around had originally been the butler's, and after the butler's funeral, Rotte had taken it over.

The person who'd volunteered to do it now was, naturally, Iberin.

Iberin was the only one who came to find Lyssel in the grimy east wing he refused to leave.

Aside from Rotte stopping by occasionally.

Not even the cleaning staff came to the east wing anymore.

Lyssel had turned them all away.

It wasn't even like Lyssel used much of the space.

The place just looked beaten down because nothing had been maintained.

"Why don't we eat here together!"

"Madam, what exactly is the point of all this?"

"You're only asking now?"

"I thought you'd lose interest. That it was just a passing curiosity. But it's actually getting unbearable."

She hadn't expected this to be easy, but it really was hard.

No matter how she struck up conversation or tried to get close, his response was always the same.

And she hadn't expected him to be this blunt about it, either.

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes."

"Got it."

"Then you'll stop coming."

"Sure."

When Iberin nodded with no fuss, Lyssel double-checked, looking faintly uneasy.

She'd been pushing in hopes that Ether could know a father's love, ideally.

But it was also true that lately, with all her focus on Lyssel, Ether had been getting less of her—so easing off for a bit seemed wise.

Not giving up. Just easing off.

For a while, anyway.

Not that Lyssel had any way of knowing what was going through her head.

"Still, eat properly, and take a walk sometimes. I mean it—I'm actually worried."

"…Worried?"

"Yes. Worried."

Lyssel tilted his head.

His face said he didn't understand why she'd be worried, or whether worried was even a word that applied to him.

Iberin watched that expression and smiled wryly.

It hit her that maybe the Lyssel in front of her right now was a glimpse of the Ether of the future.

True to her word, after that day, Iberin completely stopped going to the east wing.

Rotte seemed almost disappointed and kept hinting around the question of whether Iberin really had no intention of going back, but Iberin shut it down flat. Nope.

"Anyway, the etiquette tutor from the capital is supposed to arrive today, right?"

"Yes. Baron Pletanin, currently a professor at the Imperial Academy. Word is that among the capital's noble houses, he's the most sought-after tutor there is. The Emperor must have actually pulled some strings."

"What does he teach?"

"He was famous as a child prodigy, his specialty is political science, and he has broad knowledge across just about every field—a true all-rounder."

"Wow. Well, he's coming all the way out here, so we'd better treat him properly."

Ether was a genius among geniuses—teach him one thing and he'd figure out ten.

She wasn't just saying it as his mom. Rotte had said his uptake was so fast that even she was starting to feel the limits of what she could teach him.

Iberin, by contrast, was still slogging away at putting together basic sentences in the imperial language.

But it absolutely was not that Iberin was slow—it was that Ether was just that brilliant.

"The proceeds from selling the monsters arrived from the capital recently, right?"

"Yes. Here's the breakdown."

If she handed this off to Lyssel, the whole amount would vanish into damages payouts again, so Iberin had intercepted it.

Sure enough—monsters were apparently like gold dust in the capital, because the sum was substantial.

On top of that, a wagonload of essentials only available in the capital had come down too.

"And the butler?"

"He's traveling with Baron Pletanin, apparently."

The butler from the Loyetti family was finally on his way.

With everything she had going right now, even one extra pair of hands would help.

In any case, they were doing their best to make sure Baron Pletanin's stay was comfortable.

"Where's Ether?"

"In the west tower."

"Still?"

"Yes. He seems to be having fun with the painting."

"I'm glad he's enjoying it, but…"

The clever idea Iberin had come up with for redecorating the gray, gloomy west tower was painting color onto it.

It was a tall tower, so the outside would need professionals, but the inside was something Ether could absolutely handle on his own.

She'd thought it'd be two birds, one stone—playtime plus a sense of accomplishment. And the kid was loving it even more than she'd expected.

For now they were using the paints they already had on hand, and whatever was missing would be on the wagon coming from the capital. The professionals too.

When she headed to the west tower with Rotte, she could hear bright peals of laughter from outside.

Smiling faintly to herself, Iberin stepped inside. Ether was at the wall with Tami and Roz, having a blast brushing paint on, and clapping his little hands.

"Ether!"

The moment she called out, he came barreling over and threw himself into her arms—paint-smeared from head to toe.

Her dress was instantly streaked with every color, but she didn't care in the slightest and just hugged him tighter.

"You staying here all day?"

"Mhm, it's so much fun."

"Then just a little more, and then come hang out with Mommy."

Ether considered for a moment, then nodded and beamed.

"Yes! Being with my lady is fun too!"

"My baby."

Just as Iberin had picked up a brush herself, ready to join in—

"Excuse me! Lady Iberin!"

A servant came rushing over.

"You'd better step outside, ma'am!"

"What is it?"

"That…"

The servant shifted from foot to foot, then cautiously continued,

"…Some nobles have arrived."

"Huh? Nobles?"

She wondered if it was the group from the capital already, but the servant's face was way too grim for that.

"About the damages claims……"

Iberin's expression crumpled on the spot.

So those snake-oil bastards had finally rolled up to her doorstep.

She was huffing as she chucked her brush to the floor.

"Where are they? Let's go. Right now."

Ether must have picked up on the shift in her energy, because he watched her warily and grabbed her hand tight.

That made her flinch, and she pulled together a smile for him.

"Ether, can you stay here and paint for a bit? Mommy needs to step out for a minute, but I'll be right back."

"No. Ether wants to come too…"

"Sweetie, you should stay here, it's—"

"Hnnng."

Ether made a small whimper and latched onto her leg.

Since she'd gotten close to him, Iberin had barely scowled at all, so the flash of anger he'd just glimpsed had clearly unsettled him.

That one's on me, Iberin thought, biting back a sigh, and scooped Ether into her arms.

"Then like this. Let's go."

"Okay…"

That finally settled Ether down, and he wrapped his arms around her neck.

---

Rotte said she'd notify Lyssel, so Iberin headed for the front of the estate ahead of her.

Apparently the so-called nobles had nothing better to do, because six of them had shown up and were already laying into the servants.

When they saw Iberin approaching at her unhurried pace, their faces twisted, and one paunchy noble clicked his tongue.

"Where's the Grand Duke?"

His tone made it clear he didn't even want to speak to Iberin.

The feeling was mutual.

She wasn't about to stand around watching parasites lower than book lice put on airs.

Iberin waved the harassed servants back and planted herself squarely in front of the nobles.

"Talk to me. Quit picking on innocent people."

"Hah—a viscount's daughter, no less, and a tribute on top of that—what a joke!"

Iberin hadn't expected language like that to her face and clapped her hands over Ether's ears.

Ether was blinking up at them.

The nobles, following the motion of her hands, finally seemed to register Ether and flinched back.

"Don't tell me?"

"Is that Grand Duke Lecashe's child?"

Fear and revulsion rose at the same time in the nobles' eyes as they spoke openly in front of him.

"Ugh, what bad luck."

"Get me away from this. Hey, get the kid out of sight!"

The child flinched at the ugly words and the hostile stares, shrinking in on himself, then looked up at Iberin.

"Phewww…"

He let out a small breath, seemingly reassured by her still-soft eyes.

Iberin was starting to understand exactly what it felt like to see red.

You insult my favorite to his face?

The image of the surrounding nobles, which had already been at rock bottom, smashed through the floor.

How could she make them suffer enough that it'd actually feel satisfying.

Nothing ordinary was going to scratch that itch—and as she glared daggers at them, the nobles snorted and said,

"Guess she's running cover because it's her own brat."

"Why would you put it that way?"

"What?"

"You can say what you want about me, but this child is the direct heir of the Lecashe Grand Duke's house."

"……"

"You don't fear the consequences?"

"My apologies for our rough words."

One of the nobles tucked his tail.

"You spoke of consequences—but making an issue of childish words isn't a particularly good look either."

But he didn't fully back down.

"Also, we're not here to speak with the Grand Duchess. We came to speak with His Highness the Grand Duke, so please excuse us."

In short, this isn't your business, get lost.

She wasn't exactly fluent in the noble art of veiled insults, but she'd caught it loud and clear, and pushed back.

"And yet I'm the one who handled it."

"The Grand Duchess simply made a mistake out of ignorance. Matters like these are properly handled by His Highness. The lady of the house should focus on internal household affairs."

In other words: How dare a mere wife handle the Grand Duke's affairs? Mind your own work.

The noble who'd said it smiled with practiced refinement, watching Iberin.

Iberin smiled right back and answered.

"Over the past several decades, the amount this family has paid out is over one billion gold. As the lady of the house, while reviewing the affairs, I decided this wasn't right and sent the letter refusing any further damages claims. Several decades is not nothing—if you've failed to protect your own people across all those years, isn't that your problem, not Lecashe's?"

"We'll be speaking to His Highness, not the Grand Duchess."