Chapter 7

He always smiled so brightly that she'd thought he was finally okay.

But he wasn't.

"How long has this been going on."

"……"

He didn't answer, but she knew.

This couldn't have been the first time.

The child had simply been holding on with everything he had, pretending to be fine because he was terrified this happiness would disappear on him too.

Iberin felt like her heart was being ripped apart and held Ether tighter.

It had to be hard to breathe, but the child didn't react—just stayed in her arms.

If only the wounds of violence could heal that easily.

He wasn't simple because he was a child. A few kind words wouldn't erase every wound just because he was a child.

If anything, being a child made him more sensitive, more practiced at hiding behind a brave face.

If she'd fallen asleep tonight like always and never found Ether like this, she might've gone her whole life without knowing.

Iberin realized she'd been thinking about this too lightly.

No—not lightly, but complacently. That was the right word.

"I'm sorry."

Iberin said.

She felt Ether shake his head against her chest.

"It's okay…"

"Ether. What should Mommy do."

"Huh?"

"What can I do to really make it better."

Not just talk—I really want your heart to feel okay.

Ether blinked at her blankly, then said,

"But I'm okay."

"No, you're not okay."

"I'm not?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Then how do you know?"

"Cause it's Ether's heart, so Ether knows."

"Sometimes people cast little spells on themselves to believe they're okay. Otherwise, Ether wouldn't be this scared of bad dreams."

"…Oh, I get it!"

"Yeah, that's how it is."

"Then how do you know what your heart is feeling?"

"That's the hard part."

"Mmm. It's too hard."

"But since the kind me wasn't there in Ether's dream, I can tell that I'm the problem."

"No! My lady's not the problem."

"Mommy won't change."

"…What if you get your memory back? What if Ether suddenly gets boring to you?"

The child had figured it all out.

He knew Iberin had changed because of the memory loss.

She was a different person entirely, but as far as anyone outside knew, it was just amnesia.

So Ether, knowing she'd suddenly lost her memory, must've been terrified of what would happen if it came back.

"If that happens, Ether, reach out to me first."

Iberin couldn't say for sure either.

If something as ridiculous as transmigrating into a novel had happened, who was to say the soul that left couldn't come back?

She was unsettled herself, but she said it to put Ether at ease.

"First?"

"Yeah, and if Mommy still doesn't change and keeps being mean, then understand that Mommy's sick."

"Sick?"

She wanted to tell him that it wouldn't be her, that he should throw that person away—

She kept her words at his level, but Iberin only hoped such a day would never come.

---

The Grand Ducal Estate was still gloomy, but a different kind of energy ran through it now.

Even with the imperial family sending an allowance and the Grand Duke hunting monsters to sell, paying out damages to the surrounding nobles had kept the household running on the edge.

The former butler Hamong of the Loyetti family had told the Grand Duke they should be receiving money in return for protection, not paying it out, but the Grand Duke had shown no interest.

Among the servants there'd been all kinds of grumbling about the Grand Duke, but he never neglected their welfare, so they couldn't make much of an argument.

And this was also the one place that took in those who had nowhere else to go.

That was why their loyalty ran deep—but even so, no one got close to the Grand Duke.

He was a cursed being.

Then again, the Grand Duke didn't let anyone close in the first place.

He was a hard man, and barely spoke a word.

In her younger days, even Rotte had been afraid of the Grand Duke Lecashe.

But after watching him from up close for so long, she'd realized the Grand Duke Lecashe was a lonely man. That was why Rotte felt sorry for him. So when the imperial family announced they'd be sending the viscount's daughter from the Sherburn family as his bride, she'd allowed herself a small bit of hope.

It was a political marriage, but having a lady of the house was different from not having one.

That hope had shattered the moment she actually met Iberin, of course.

"Master Ether, isn't he kind of cute?"

"Right? He's put on weight lately, and those pudgy cheeks are adorable. Makes you want to poke them."

"Right? My lady must be thrilled."

"Tami won't stop showing him off."

"I'm going to ask if I can be his personal maid too."

But she'd lost her memory and become, strangely, a completely different person.

She'd been as gloomy as the Grand Duke himself—a woman who'd forgotten how to smile.

But now she laughed easily, even at the smallest things.

The way she treated Ether had changed completely too.

Before, she'd been so harsh and cruel that Rotte had wanted to step in and stop her.

"Ether, how does this taste?"

"Yummy."

Rotte could feel it. A new wind was blowing through the Grand Ducal Estate, where gloom had always hung in the air.

And the source of that wind was Iberin.

"Lady Iberin."

"Mm?"

"Would it be alright if you stayed without your memories for the rest of your life?"

"…Excuse me?"

"It's an old woman's wish."

"However awful I was before, isn't it a bit much to say that right to my face?"

"My apologies."

"That doesn't sound the least bit sincere!"

"I'm being sincere."

Maybe Iberin could change the Grand Duke Lecashe too—the thought made her look forward to the day he came home.

---

The days were peaceful.

After learning that Ether had nightmares, Iberin had moved him into her room.

"My lady!"

"Mm?"

"Can Ether stay next to you?"

"Of course."

They were practically attached at the hip, twenty-four hours a day.

He was still at the age when a mother's touch mattered most, so that wasn't really a problem.

And yet, Iberin still felt a small ache in her chest.

"Hehe."

"You like it that much?"

"Mhm."

"Don't you?"

"I-I do!"

"Who?"

"My lady!"

They'd clearly grown closer, but the word Mom still wouldn't come out of him.

It was less hurt and more worry over what was going through that little head.

Still, asking would you call me Mom? might pick at the wound, so she held back.

Iberin remembered what the child had said the day she found him in the west tower.

I won't call you Mommy anymore.

Which meant Iberin had refused to be called Mom by the child.

Maybe Ether's instincts were still refusing.

"The sun's out a little today."

Iberin murmured, glancing out the window.

"Should I open the windows?"

"Would you?"

"Do you like the sun, my lady?"

"I do. It feels warm and fluffy."

"Then I like it too!"

"Then once Mommy's done working, want to go for a walk?"

"Yes!"

As things softened between Iberin and Ether, the servants—who'd always worked in a tense atmosphere—seemed to ease up too.

Before, maybe because Iberin had been such a frightening lady of the house, the whole place had been heavy and laughter had been nowhere to be heard.

This place.

Not much had changed on the surface, aside from the occasional sound of a child running around and the soft chatter of servants going about their work.

But the mood was completely different.

Today, Iberin had been busy from the morning.

She had to figure out the most efficient way to manage what was left of the finances.

Not being born and raised here meant there was a lot to study.

The more she learned, the more her blood pressure climbed when she looked at the books.

"Lady Iberin."

"Yes."

"Another complaint letter and damages claim arrived."

"Again?"

"Yes."

The past few days had been spent stamping Return to Sender on claims and playing with Ether. Add studying on top of that, and she was running short on sleep.

How many shameless thieves were out there? Damages claims had come in from regions where it was a stretch to believe a monster could even reach—was that physically possible?

It looked impossible without all of them having agreed beforehand to bleed Lecashe dry.

She'd managed to handle them all somehow, and now another new one had shown up.

"So who's it from this time?"

"Count Alketa's territory."

"Didn't we already send a return there?"

"We did. But they sent it back, saying there must've been a mistake."

"A mistake? What mistake?"

"They claim it was returned in error."

"What the hell, are these guys out of their minds."

"Lady Iberin. Please refrain from such language."

"They're driving me to curse."

"Lady Iberin. Language is like the window of the heart—if you keep repeating ugly words out loud…"

"What happens?"

"You become just like them…. But in this case, I think it's warranted, so feel free. I take it back."

They were utterly shameless. How much of a pushover had they taken her for to send the documents back claiming a clerical error?

"So what should we do?"

She wanted to march over there and have it out with them, but Iberin decided to take the high road and send it back again.

But when a flood of similar replies arrived after Count Alketa's, all claiming there must be some mistake, Iberin lost it and tore through every last one of them.

This time, she put real care into her reply.

[To Count Alketa, who seems to be having such a hard time with these frequent monster incursions.

We have read your complaint letters with great interest. We send our heartfelt sympathies that ongoing monster appearances have caused such damage. Truly, how unfortunate that you cannot even protect your own residents by your own means. We understand the damages we've paid out over the years have been quite substantial. For that reason, Lecashe has decided to change its approach. Up until now, as the largest noble house in the region, we have paid all damages in keeping with the spirit of noblesse oblige—but going forward, we kindly request that you submit detailed accounting of how the funds have been used. Furthermore, given that Lecashe has in fact been protecting the residents of your region, we hereby demand a protection fee of one billion gold.]

Choke on that.

---

Count Alketa stared at the returned complaint letter and damages claim, his brow furrowing—then he saw the enclosed letter and slammed his fist down hard enough to crack the desk.

"Has this woman lost her mind?"

The woman who used to hand over whatever was asked of her was suddenly demanding one billion gold as a protection fee.

A billion wasn't some dog's name!

"Father, what's the matter?"

Count Alketa's son had just gotten into the empire's most prestigious academy.

Getting him in had taken massive bribes and even fabricated test scores, all of which cost a fortune and left their finances stretched.

So he'd used the monsters as an excuse to file damages claims against the Grand Duke Lecashe's territory.

The monsters hadn't actually appeared. And even when one did escape the Grand Duke's territory, it was already so weakened that even a middling knight could take it down with a single strike.

Even so, the nobles around the Grand Duke's territory had always milked Lecashe for huge sums in the name of monster damages.

They got away with it because Lecashe always paid without a fuss.

And now—a billion gold for protection, out of nowhere?