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Chapter 09
The Villainess Builds a Department Store
I swallowed the heat rising in my chest again and again before I could finally speak.
“Use this to buy some medicine and put it on.”
“……”
I dug into my pocket and held out whatever coins I grabbed.
Bastian didn’t move. He just stared at my face.
Those blood-red eyes—sharp, empty of emotion—locked onto me. The intensity sent a chill down my spine.
When he still didn’t respond, I forced the purse into his pocket.
“Go. Quickly.”
I gave him a small push.
Only then did Bastian flinch, as if snapping out of a dream, and in the next instant he disappeared into the crowd—
Without a single word of thanks.
“Y-You little—! Miss! What do you think you’re doing? Showing mercy to a sewer rat like that who doesn’t deserve it!”
The baker exploded belatedly.
“How I spend my money is none of your concern.”
“Grr…”
His face clearly read, This is why children who know nothing of the world…
I knew this wasn’t a fundamental solution.
But no matter how grand and elaborate the plans I had made for him were—if I turned my back on the Bastian standing right in front of me, then who were those plans really for?
Empty pity and sympathy don’t fill an empty stomach.
That was something I knew better than anyone.
‘Sorry, Adelaide. Things aren’t good for me either… But it’ll be resolved soon! Stay strong!’
‘I can’t lend you money, but I’ll pray every day for your family to rise again.’
‘I’m disappointed in you, Adelaide. I didn’t think you were so materialistic!’
The bitter memories made my stomach twist.
Just then—
“Adelaide? Are you alright? You’ve gone pale. What happened here?”
Uncle Guillaume pushed through the crowd, demanding an explanation.
Apparently so absorbed in toy shopping that he had a ridiculous hat on his head and toy soldiers and a miniature carriage tucked under his arm.
After hearing the story, he clicked his tongue and patted the baker’s shoulder.
“Adelaide didn’t act with ill intent. You sold the bread in the end, so you’ve lost nothing. Let’s leave it at that.”
“…Fine. But please warn the young lady properly. There’s no need to show mercy to brats like that.”
The baker shot one last glare in the direction Bastian had disappeared before returning to his shop.
“Adelaide?”
“…Yes, Uncle Guillaume.”
“Let’s talk about this properly when we get home.”
Then he added quietly, for only me to hear:
“You did well. But next time, call for an adult instead of stepping in yourself. You could have been hurt.”
“I’m sorry. It was money my parents gave me for toys…”
His large hand came to rest on my head.
“I’m not scolding you. I’m worried. I’ll buy the toys. Since you did a good deed, you deserve something in return.”
I nodded silently.
* * *
“We definitely need a governess.”
At my muttering, Antoine paused mid-suck on the toy soldier he’d bought last time and stared at me.
“Antoine. Spit.”
“Ptui!”
Ah, such a good boy. Anyone who listened to his older sister this well had to be an angel.
What kind of angel…?
Hmm.
An angel of the junkyard…?
‘Even angels can be bad at cleaning up toys!’
With a deep sigh, I began picking up the scattered toys.
The tin soldier from the market. The bamboo flute from the East that Uncle Guillaume brought the other day.
And wooden blocks scattered like landmines, lying in wait for unsuspecting feet.
The servants cleaned diligently every hour, but Antoine could turn the playroom into chaos in seconds.
The reason was simple.
Boredom.
Playing in the fountain, observing ants—those had already lost their charm.
We needed new stimulation. Endless dopamine.
I’d begged to go out with a maid if we didn’t have a governess, but Mother had been firm.
‘No! After what happened recently… For now, stay home and play with Mother, alright?’
With her pale face looking ready to collapse at any moment, I couldn’t keep insisting.
Please, let us find a good governess soon.
I had just finished yet another silent prayer when—
“Adelaide, Antoine. Are you in here?”
“Mother?”
The playroom door opened, and Mother stepped inside.
She wasn’t alone.
Antoine and I blinked at the unfamiliar woman who followed behind her.
“Miss Bobbins, these are my children. My eldest, Adelaide, and Antoine.”
The woman had glossy black hair swept up elegantly like a bird’s feathers, and lapis-blue eyes that studied us calmly.
She looked to be in her late twenties, perhaps older—but with her clear skin and upright posture, she seemed more like a refined lady than a matron.
“Hello.”
I didn’t know who she was, but since Mother had brought her herself, I bowed first.
Antoine hesitated behind me, shyly dipping his head.
“H-Hello…”
His tiny voice was barely audible.
“From now on, Miss Camille Bobbins will care for you in place of Madame Severine. So you must listen to her well.”
Though it wasn’t a long sentence, Mother had to close her eyes and catch her breath midway. My heart sank.
She still wasn’t well.
“Miss Camille isn’t a noble, but she completed her education at a ladies’ academy and served as companion to the Countess of Roan, learning refinement and culture. So behave properly and learn well. Especially you, Adelaide.”
No wonder her posture was so impeccable.
Camille was closer to a governess—no, a gouvernante—a private tutor.
“The Countess of Roan’s recommendation says you can read and write, compose poetry, play piano, paint, embroider, and even dance. It seems Her Ladyship truly taught you like a granddaughter in her later years?”
Camille smiled gracefully and nodded.
‘Education…’
When my family fell, one of the greatest losses was no longer being able to learn.
“I look forward to learning from you, Miss Bobbins.”
“Please, call me Camille. The honor is mine.”
The thought that I could finally satisfy my long-starved thirst for knowledge made me like her already.
* * *
Separate from meeting our new governess, Antoine needed friends.
“Antoine, come here a second. Don’t you need friends?”
“Friends?”
“Go to Mother and say, ‘Mother, I want to make friends.’ Don’t say I told you to.”
Antoine nodded obediently and trotted over to Mother, who was dozing in the sunlight, tugging at her skirt.
“Mm…? Antoine? What is it?”
“Mother, I want to make friends.”
“Friends?”
“Did I do good?”
He whipped his head toward me and grinned.
Mother’s suspicious gaze followed, but I pretended not to notice.
“Hehe.”
…Well. At least he’s a good kid.
