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Chapter 11
“Marisel… what… should I do…”
A pitiful, almost lamb-like wail echoed through the kitchen.
For a moment, everyone froze, the room suspended in silence.
Slowly, all eyes turned toward the source of the sound.
The young master of the Grand Ducal house.
Fleur Ergana Yohaim.
The child who had lost his parents and his voice.
And now, he was speaking. His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
Everyone stared in astonishment, mouths slightly agape, unable to believe it.
Just as a tear threatened to fall, Marisel regained her composure.
Gently wiping the corners of his eyes, she spoke softly:
“Our prince… what’s troubling you, I wonder?”
Her tender voice, tinged with concern, quivered slightly. Even Marisel’s own heart stirred at this remarkable change in Fleur.
The boy lowered his gaze and pointed a tiny finger toward the cookie dough.
The star-shaped cutter had left uneven marks in the dough. The stars were no longer perfect.
It was understandable that he felt frustrated.
“Ah… you’re upset because the stars didn’t turn out pretty?”
He nodded, cheeks still pink with lingering tears.
“Prince… the dough is still here. If it doesn’t work, we can gather it and try again.”
Marisel tore off a piece, kneaded it gently, and pressed the cutter to create a perfect star.
“Look. Isn’t it pretty?”
Fleur studied the star carefully. Then, his face brightened like a clear sky, and he nodded in approval.
“Now… would you like to try again?”
Marisel met his eyes and asked gently.
Fleur nodded, his tiny hands moving carefully as she instructed.
“Like this…?”
Marisel’s heart swelled with emotion. She forced herself to remain composed, keeping the conversation natural so as not to unsettle him.
“Yes. That’s perfect. Very well done.”
Quietly observing the scene, both Jeffrey and Ableen’s eyes glistened with tears.
“How is it? Do you like it?”
“Yes. I like it. It’s fun.”
He nodded vigorously, clearly pleased.
“Prince, thank you.”
“Hm? For what…?”
“Just… I like talking with you.”
“Fleur… spoke…?”
“That’s what they say. He started talking naturally while making cookies…”
“…”
“Marisel, surprisingly skilled… Maybe I should ask her for my child too, someday…”
Rino muttered to himself. Morgan, lost in paperwork, looked up sharply.
“You idiot. Wait until you’re married before saying stuff like that. And Marisel is already Fleur’s nanny. She’s not going to you.”
Rino narrowed his eyes at Morgan’s lightning-fast reaction.
‘This guy reacts even to muttered words…’
Whenever it involved Marisel, Morgan’s sensitivity was off the charts—and this was alarmingly fast.
“Fleur won’t stay a child forever. He’s growing fast. In three years, he won’t need a nanny. By then, I’ll be married with my own child. Not a bad point… If you marry and have a child in the meantime, the Grand Ducal house might still be involved. No! I and Marisel… if we…”
‘Hah, look at that glare.’
Rino flinched at the intensity in Morgan’s eyes.
‘I was just curious… now I’ve poked the wrong bear.’
Better not push further, or it could get dangerous.
“Anyway… Marisel is very capable. A special reward for this task would be fitting, I suppose. That was the idea. That’s what I meant.”
Rino stepped back, pretending to ignore him.
“I was going to do it regardless of whether you said anything.”
“You… always have to be so disagreeable?”
Rino finally relaxed his gaze and retorted at Morgan.
“You’re not talking to Marisel that way, right? If you do, she’ll dislike you.”
“Idiot. Marisel isn’t a fool like you.”
Morgan smirked, dismissing Rino as a silly nuisance.
‘Ugh, what an irritating guy…’
“I think you’re worse with Marisel. I already told you—speak nicely.”
“Mind your own business. Focus on yourself.”
Morgan laughed derisively, but Rino’s words clung to him like a thorn.
Tonight, Morgan was scheduled to visit Fleur’s room.
“Prince… your uncle will be here soon. You’ve met him before, yes? No need to be afraid—he cares for you.”
“Yes. Will Marisel be here too when uncle comes?”
“Of course. I’m your nanny. If you’re scared, you can hide behind me.”
“Okay.”
Fleur responded with deer-like eyes, trusting.
Tap-tap-tap.
A gentle knock, and Porl’s composed voice announced:
“Nanny, His Highness has arrived.”
The door opened, revealing Morgan, dressed casually with no formal airs.
‘As promised, he came relaxed.’
Slightly damp hair, faint minty scent—he radiated effortless charm.
‘The hero really is the hero.’
“Prince Fleur… your Grand Ducal uncle is here.”
Marisel drew Fleur closer, carefully bridging the distance.
‘Grand Ducal uncle? Strange phrasing…’
Morgan chuckled faintly at Marisel’s quirkiness.
“Ah… hello, uncle…”
The clarity in Fleur’s voice reached Morgan’s ears.
‘This… is Fleur’s voice…?’
Before losing his sister, Fleur had always seemed timid. Now, his voice had life and confidence. Not the voice Morgan remembered.
“So… Fleur. Have you been well?”
Contrary to expectation, Morgan spoke kindly to Fleur.
“Yes… I’ve been well.”
Fleur raised his head to meet Morgan’s gaze, then quickly lowered it.
“Your Highness…”
“…?”
‘He’s intimidated by how big I am.’
Marisel signaled with gestures and mouth movements for Fleur to maintain eye contact.
Morgan flinched at the unorthodox signals but followed them, kneeling to match Fleur’s eye level.
Marisel smiled triumphantly, giving a thumbs-up.
‘What’s this signal?’
Morgan’s face twisted.
‘Ah! He doesn’t know what it means.’
Marisel chuckled and quickly lowered her hand.
“Any pain? Sleeping well?”
Fleur, now comfortable at eye level, answered with ease.
“Yes. I sleep with Marisel, so I don’t have scary dreams. And if I wake up, she holds me, so I’m not scared at all.”
“I see… that’s good.”
Morgan’s hand gently stroked Fleur’s head, his usual stern demeanor softened by a rare smile.
‘Wow… even he smiles.’
The transformation was striking. His smile elevated him from ordinary to ethereal.
‘I wonder if any woman has seen him smile like this before.’
Marisel felt a fleeting sense of victorious satisfaction.
“Uncle…”
“Yes.”
Fleur’s clear, honest voice. Morgan waited patiently for his next words.
But the child hesitated.
“…Thank you… for sending Marisel to be my nanny.”
Then, suddenly, he dashed toward the bedside table.
“…?”
He quickly grabbed something and returned, holding it out to Morgan.
“What is it?”
“Cookies I made with Marisel. I wanted to give them to you, uncle…”
Morgan glanced at the cookies, then back at Fleur.
“You… made these yourself? For me?”
Fleur nodded twice, quickly.
“Thank you… I’ll eat them well.”
“Yes…”
Though always an imposing figure, today Morgan seemed approachable. Speaking with Fleur reminded him slightly of the warmth Marisel brought.
“When’s bedtime?”
Marisel smiled softly and interjected.
“In an hour. Children need to sleep early.”
“Then it’s almost time to prepare. Farewell for now, Fleur. Sleep well.”
Morgan left, promising to visit again.
Marisel escorted him to the door, heart full from the day’s success.
“Your Highness. Thank you for coming.”
“…”
His gentle voice, long eyelashes, and pure violet eyes, paired with a kind smile directed at her, left Marisel briefly stunned.
Morgan froze at her smile, as if rooted in place, though the door was just within reach.
“…?”
At that moment, Marisel opened the door for him herself.
‘Huh? I opened it… why isn’t he leaving?’
Puzzled, she tilted her head. Morgan instead stared at her intently, preparing to speak.
