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Chapter : 13 Chapter 21. You Who Came Like a Dream (13)
The count reflexively gripped the armrest of his chair. Only belatedly did he realize that murderous intent, a desire to tear the woman opposite him apart, was seeping out from her.
“Shut up.”
“Lady Duncan!”
“Shut up before I rip that filthy mouth of yours wide open.”
Amid the sound of grinding teeth, the woman repeatedly wiped her face dry with her hands. When she finally lifted her head, a chilling, blood-red gaze poured out—so eerie it sent shivers down one’s spine.
“Say that again. A worthless illegitimate child? Ugly beyond measure?”
“……”
“You’re calling yourself a guardian while treating a child like that? Claiming you’re protecting them?”
“Lady Duncan.”
So I slipped up badly, the count thought, frantically trying to salvage the situation. But whether she noticed or not, the woman only grew more vicious in her ridicule.
“Bark again. I never thought I’d hear a human bark like a cat.”
“……”
“Go on. You said you want the child returned, didn’t you?”
“Return the child—”
“What, you actually bark? I thought you were just morally rotten, but it turns out your intelligence is equally pathetic.”
Aesilla let out a hollow laugh and muttered softly.
“Lady Duncan, your behavior is becoming quite rude.”
“So what, Count? Am I supposed to politely deal with trash who treat children like that? You dragged that child away from abuse and call it kidnapping? If it were you, would you have returned them? And you dare call me immoral while assuming everyone else is the same?”
“……”
“This is unbelievable. The more I think about it, the more insane you are.”
At that, the count shot up from his chair, and Aesilla slowly rose as well.
“I’ll keep this brief, Lady Duncan.”
“Good, I prefer it that way too.”
“Lady Duncan, the child—”
“Our ‘Duncan’ will never return that child.”
She deliberately emphasized “Duncan.” Ignoring the count’s face growing faintly paler, Aesilla poked his chest with a finger.
“Look at me properly, Count. You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.”
A curse flowed through her rage.
“I, Aesilla Duncan, swear upon this name—”
The overflowing curse declared the end of an entire noble family’s future, scattering vengeance over it.
Unable to withstand the humiliating finger poking his chest, the count staggered.
“That child, who was abused by your neglect, your wife’s violence, and your son’s malice, will come to collect the price from you.”
The child you dismissed will reclaim their worth and bloom beautifully.
“And if the child refuses to take it, I will go and take it myself. So, Count—”
You will all rot in disgrace.
Aesilla Duncan smiled in a terrifyingly lovely way. Like a murderer swinging the final stroke of an axe—light, casual. Like a reaper gently taking her sacrifice.
“Please do wait for it.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Standing by the second-floor window, Aesilla looked down.
The dazed-looking count was getting into his carriage and disappearing quickly. That pathetic, shabby, miserable figure twisted her lips in disgust.
She had wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him thoroughly. Suppressing her disappointment, she turned her gaze and saw Ronel running toward her in little hops.
“Eisilla unnie!”
“Esh.”
“……Huh?”
“Esh unnie.”
Aesilla kindly corrected her, telling her to use the nickname. Ronel tilted her head, then carefully repeated it.
“Esh unnie.”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay with the count?”
I feel pretty sick, honestly. Thinking about how he might have treated you makes me so angry I want to tear everything down—but it’s the age of civilization.
Ronel’s downcast gaze cut off her thoughts. The child hesitantly spoke.
“W-was it okay? I was actually supposed to meet the count myself… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I just cursed him a bit.”
She summarized it briefly and scooped Ronel into her arms. The child still flinched slightly, but was gradually relaxing more and more.
“Do I seem that unreliable?”
“No… it’s just that I should do what I can myself.”
Even with her self-esteem at rock bottom, she tried to sound brave. Aesilla chuckled softly.
“Then do you want revenge?”
“……Huh?”
“Never mind, I’m joking.”
Aesilla gently ruffled the child’s golden hair.
Revenge is too ugly a thing for a child.
“I-I’ll do what I can myself…”
“It’s okay. Forget it.”
“Huh?”
Children should remain children.
It is a privilege of childhood to rest safely within a beautiful world.
＊ ＊ ＊
Reinhard held his teacup and looked out the window.
Outside the study window stretched a vast garden painted in autumn colors. The enormous garden of House Duncan was filled with various trees—conifers, ash, poplar, willow—densely packed together.
Along the radiant path of autumn leaves, Ronel hopped along. Beside her ran a pure white cat, its tail swaying, and behind them Aesilla strolled leisurely, watching their lively play.
A beauty, a girl, and a cat. A warm, peaceful autumn scene, like a painting. Serenity flowed through the autumn calm.
Reinhard savored the colorful view and turned his gaze.
Under pale golden sunlight, a man was reading a book. Unaware that sunlight pooled between his collarbones, he leaned comfortably in a rocking chair. A long glasses chain scattered light around him.
“Terr.”
The dark-haired man frowned slightly. Being called by that old nickname after so long felt oddly itchy. His fingers hesitated on the page.
“Why are you calling me that again?”
Trying to decide how to respond, Terriet chose to answer bluntly. Reinhard chuckled at his son’s curt tone.
The people of the Duncan estate would likely say Ruby’s bad personality came from Aesilla. But they were forgetting something important.
“Hmm, from childhood? Maybe several decades ago?”
Reinhard replied casually.
Aesilla’s personality was just like Terriet’s. That sharp temperament passed down Terriet → Aesilla → Ruby, which Reinhard had endured for decades.
Oh, my miserable life.
He smiled bitterly.
If his late wife were still alive—
“Terriet got that personality from you, you idiot!”
—she would have shouted that. Reinhard conveniently ignored that truth.
“What is this about?” Terriet asked.
“That child is a Duncan.”
“Yes, I feel that too. So does Aesilla.”
“So she is a Duncan.”
The book page turned lazily again.
“Son.”
“No.”
“Let’s do a paternity test.”
Terriet immediately frowned. Reinhard calmly reached out.
“Give me a hair.”
After much complaining, Terriet reluctantly handed over a strand.
“She is not my daughter.”
Reinhard did not answer. He only gazed down at the child who might be his granddaughter.
The girl radiated dazzling vitality, as if freed from the terrible count’s household. Her light steps brushed the ground—more like flying than running.
How lovely. Pure, innocent, flawless.
Reinhard slowly turned to his son.
“I’ll explain everything when I return from this trip.”
“Do as you like.”
“Do you know where I’m going?”
“The Mage Tower.”
“And do you know where that is?”
At that, Terriet’s detached composure cracked.
Reinhard nodded.
“Currently, it’s in the Kingdom of Fernburg.”
Terriet silently cursed.
Reinhard sighed.
“Maybe I should also take the little lady’s hair.”
“Just don’t pull the cat’s fur.”
“Of course not.”
“They’re similar colors.”
One is white, one is blonde.
In a house full of black hair, they stand out.
“Should we try Ruby’s too?”
Terriet ignored the absurd question.
Reinhard chuckled and put the hair into an envelope.
Green eyes, similar yet different from Ronel’s.
If she’s not Terriet’s daughter… not Aesilla’s… not mine…
Then whose child is she?
＊ ＊ ＊
He had let Ronel slip away. His hands trembled in despair.
He didn’t even remember how he got into the carriage. Before he knew it, he was leaving the Duncan estate in a daze.
“Back to the count’s estate.”
The coachman nodded and closed the door. The horses began to run.
The count slumped back and hit his head against the seat.
“Damn it.”
Again.
“Damn it.”
Three times.
He covered his eyes.
If only he had kept the child until age ten. Why was that so hard?
What now…
While he agonized, he failed to notice the carriage door opening silently.
A soft laugh came from across him.
“What’s so troubling, Count?”
A gentle voice.
Warm like all four seasons combined.
The count shuddered and looked up.
A hooded figure sat across from him.
“A… ah…”
He stammered.
The figure laughed again.
The clear sound filled the carriage like bells.
And then, a pale white hand slowly reached up and pulled down the hood.
