SWST 09

Chapter 09

“What on earth are you?”
Thomas roughly tried to shake off Karl’s hand, but it didn’t budge at all no matter how hard he pulled.
“I saw what came out of there.”
“So what?”
Annoyed, Thomas snapped back.
“What was done in there?”
“If it was done by a doctor, it’s obvious, isn’t it? A medical examination. You’re not curious about whether she got a meal there, I assume.”
“And the result of the examination? If you just answer properly, I’ll let you go nicely…”
“Pregnant.”
“What?”
The answer was short and swift.
“I’m telling the truth. I value my life too.”

Though revealing a patient’s private information to someone else weighed on him, he decided to ignore it. After all, soon everyone in the village would know anyway.
That Michelle is pregnant.

In fact, being tied up like this and unable to continue his schedule was more problematic. There were still patients waiting for his house call.

“If you doubt my words, you can send another doctor to check.”
Thomas had nothing to hide. It seemed this person was someone important. There could only be one reason for someone of status to look for a pregnant woman.
Probably planning to hire her as a nanny.

That would actually be good for Michelle. Especially since her husband had gone off to sea and no one knew when he’d return. Being a nanny was a suitable job while raising a child.

“If you’re done, I’ll be going.”
At his glare, Karl finally let go of Thomas.

“How long has it been?”
Karl asked, replacing a dazed Francesca.
“Just over a month? Early stage.”

Just over a month. That perfectly matched the period when Dotchef had been away.
“Madam, I think…”

There was no doubt that this child was Dotchef’s.

“This is serious.”

The Bloody Mary Ducal family.
In the Duchess’s study, the sighs of the two people facing each other grew deeper. Karl, who had been pondering the matter, spoke first.

“Shall we tell the master and consult him?”
Be honest?
“Don’t you know the Duke’s temperament? If he finds out about an illegitimate child, both Dotchef and our family will be ruined.”

Who was the Duke?
A man called the Iron-Blooded Warlord.
A man who trampled his brothers to ascend to the Bloody Mary dukedom.
A man who survived despite everyone seeking his weaknesses, where even a small flaw could cost his life.
Because of this, he was strict with rules, applying them to both himself and his household.

“There’s no other choice, is there?”
“Should we just take the child…? If she approached for money, she might leave easily.”
“She’s a woman who came all the way to the Duke’s house. She probably isn’t after money.”

Especially if Dotchef himself was meeting her in commoner clothes.
“She might want to live with Dotchef and that household.”
Highly likely. Otherwise, she would have no reason to hide her pregnancy and leave. Surely, she aims to seduce Dotchef and formally enter the Bloody Mary family.

But…
“That’s impossible.”
Francesca cut him off firmly.

The second son of the Bloody Mary family, famous for swordsmanship, living in a commoner’s house?
The worst possible outcome.
Throughout her life, Dotchef and the family’s reputation could carry a permanent stigma.

“But we can’t just leave it be. Otherwise, a commoner woman might become part of the family.”
“…No, temporarily, it’s possible.”
“Temporarily?”
“The child of Dotchef should be raised by us. Even if Dotchef lacks ability, the child is still part of our family.”

Meaning, with Bloody Mary blood, the child may inherit swordsmanship. Perhaps, by luck, the child could surpass its father and bring honor to the family. She couldn’t let such a child grow up as a commoner.

“So, you’ll expel her right after giving birth?”
“Of course.”

Was there any other way?
Let the woman enter the family, bear a child with Bloody Mary blood, then leave afterward. If she caused trouble, she’d be killed.
Dotchef, this is the path you chose. As the mother, this is all I can do.

All she could do was recognize the child as part of the family. Once the child grew, they could say they adopted a distant relative’s child. Since there’s no formal marriage, it wouldn’t interfere with Dotchef or the Bloody Mary family’s future.

The problem: the Duke—her husband—returning soon would not accept this.
He’ll probably chase Dotchef away.

Even if a child was annoying, a mother naturally worries when it’s out of sight.
It’s a relief that Halara behaved herself.

If Halara had spread rumors demanding money because of Dotchef’s child, the Duke would have already heard. Not doing so benefited both Halara and Francesca.

“I’ll meet the child tomorrow and formally discuss joining the family.”
“Right away?”
“We’re in an emergency. Time is urgent. Clean the annex first, and bring Dotchef, even if we have to drag him.”

It was early morning.
Last night, I and Aunt Michelle snacked and chatted until late. Michelle left around midnight, sleepy.
I got up early to tidy the house.

“Aunt Michelle is pregnant… soon I’ll have a niece or nephew.”
I sniffled with excitement. I love babies. They’re adorable by nature.

“Right. Should I go to the market for yarn? The more baby clothes, the better.”
Would the market sell yarn? I’d make a baby hat from it. I’m a knitting master. My dexterity allows me to do anything.

“Actually, not food—maybe we could sell scrubbing cloths too?”
Ideas poured in. There were countless business opportunities. Maybe this is my calling.

Returning quickly from the market, I saw a familiar person in front of the house.

“Oh? You’re here today too.”
I waved briefly.
He finally stepped away from the wall.
“I was worried because you left without a word yesterday.”
“…Worried?”
“Yes. I wondered if something happened. Some man was chasing you.”

He was big—what could his relationship with me be?
“Do you owe someone else besides me?”
He didn’t reply. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about himself.

Well, I have my own reasons for hiding things too.

“I brought something.”
Hearing this, he lifted his head slightly. Through his parted hair, I caught a glimpse of orderly eyes.

“You haven’t had lunch yet, right?”
“It’s only 10 o’clock.”
Huh?
“How did you know it’s 10?”
I have no watch—just a sword in hand.

“If you’re curious, maybe I’ll lower the price.”
“No, that’s impossible.”

A skilled negotiator.

“Come in.”
I removed the sign that replaced a loose padlock. The padlock had always been faulty, useless.
“If it’s this easy to enter, why put up a sign?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”

Suddenly, his attitude turned cold as he strode inside. What a strange man.

I seated him at the table and brought over leftover potato pancakes from the kitchen.
“This is potato pancake. Made from the potatoes you ground yesterday.”
“Potato pancake? Looks bad.”
“What?”
“A fork?”
“…I’ll give you one.”

Though he said it looked bad, he seemed curious. I quickly placed a fork before him. Let’s see if he maintains that attitude after tasting!

“Enjoy your meal.”
Appearance aside, the taste matters, right?

As expected, after his first bite, he stiffened briefly, then diligently started eating. The plate emptied quickly.
Still holding the fork, he looked at the empty plate with regret. I said triumphantly:
“My cooking is impressive, right?”
“…You really made this yourself?”
“Yes.”

He looked at me silently, seemingly unconvinced. Didn’t matter—it meant the taste was good.
I added more pancakes to his plate and sat across.
“Eat comfortably. I’ll do some knitting here.”
“Knitting?”
“This.”

I had cut linen into long strands since they didn’t sell yarn. He noticed and lowered his gaze. Seeing him eat quietly, I decided the potato pancake party should last another day.

After Dotchef left, Halara sped up her work.
Three hours later, hats and socks were finished.

“Pretty good.”
Though the linen wasn’t dyed, the shape was excellent thanks to my skill.

“Cotton would have been better.”
There seemed to be no cotton here; there was wool and silk but no normal fabric.
With little money, the only affordable option was cheap linen.

“The heart matters more than anything.”

At that moment, a consistent knocking on the door sounded.