BTVF 12

Chapter 12

“What on earth have you been doing, Lerial Tenevris?!”

Anwen was the first to explode, shouting at the sight of his daughter in such a disheveled state. For a man who rarely showed any change in emotion, it was an unusually fierce outburst.

“I’ve never been so disappointed in my life, my daughter! Do you have any idea how shocked we were when we saw the bills that came in from the temple and from Remington?!”

Roblin flung a long sheet of paper—so long its end wasn’t even visible—straight at Lerial’s face.

It didn’t hurt, but it was more than enough to wound her pride.

“……”

Faced with such unmistakable fury, Lerial could only keep her mouth shut and lower her head.

Watching from behind, the eldest son, Hable, fidgeted awkwardly, glancing around nervously.

What’s going on with you all of a sudden, Sister…?

Far from feeling jealous, even he—who had always found his sister’s wickedness admirable—was deeply shaken by this sudden deviation.

He wanted to cling to her right then and there and demand to know what was going on.

But the fact that Hable’s wish remained only a thought was, in truth, a stroke of luck for Lerial.

Ah, thrilling. This is it.

If he had come closer and clung to her, he would have witnessed the bizarre sight of the corners of her lips twitching upward.

Do you know how many hours of volunteering I put in just to hear this?

Yes. She was thoroughly enjoying this situation—being scolded by her parents.

If she continued down this path of being a bad—no, a good—daughter, being cast out of the family might not be impossible.

She could erase the cursed surname Tenevris from her life!

Please scold me more! Hurry!

Reciting the words she could never say aloud in her heart, Lerial shot a sidelong glance at her parents, gauging their mood.

The heavy, ominous atmosphere was perfect.

“Dear… do you think this will really be all right?”

“Don’t worry, my lady.”

But the duke and duchess had a plan of their own.

In response to Roblin’s anxious whisper, Anwen replied quietly,

“If it’s our wicked daughter Lerial, there’s no way she’ll just stand there and take a scolding.”

He calmly recalled the events from a few hours before his daughter’s return.

The ominous sign had begun when servants had poured into his office with a thick stack of itemized statements, as if water were flooding in.

“What…? A donation of one million merk to the National Orphanage?”

Anwen reread the donation certificate in disbelief.

He had never made a donation in his life. Why should he give away money he had earned with blood and sweat to complete strangers? It made no sense whatsoever.

For that reason, the temple’s annual promotional materials that arrived at the estate usually ended up as kindling for the fireplace.

Whenever he encountered people on the street soliciting sponsorships, Anwen would pass by with a scowl, as though he had seen a bug.

And yet…

“Are you telling me Lerial actually signed this absurd document herself?”

“……Yes.”

His daughter had handed over this vast sum of money to the temple without any conditions.

Only then did Anwen realize, for the first time, that his daughter’s change had reached a serious level. He had thought she seemed a bit odd lately, but he had never imagined it was this bad.

Is this what people call adolescence…?

Lost in thought, he stared blankly at the endless row of zeros on the back of the donation certificate.

Then—

“Dear! This is terrible!”

His wife, Roblin Tenevris, burst into the office without even knocking.

Her outdoor shawl was still draped over her shoulders. It seemed she had rushed straight to the study the moment she arrived home.

It clearly looked urgent, but Anwen firmly shook his head.

Whatever it is, nothing could be more serious than the donation certificate in my hand.

He was just about to say that when—

“L-Lerial had all of Remington’s bread delivered to the orphanage! Every last loaf!”

“What?!”

Shocked, he sprang to his feet. The donation certificate in his hand crumpled with a crinkling sound.

The neatly pomaded hair that had been slicked back gave way under the shock, a few strands falling across his forehead, but Anwen didn’t notice.

Just hearing about his daughter’s misdeeds from his wife was enough to leave him reeling.

“I stopped by to buy some bread as a snack on the way to the salon, but they’d already closed! When I asked why, they said—good heavens—that they’d signed an exclusive contract with House Tenevris for orphanage deliveries, so they won’t be taking any personal orders from now on…”

Perhaps finding her own words unbelievable, Roblin finally let out a hollow laugh, unaware that her lipstick had smudged from speaking so fervently.

She looked at her husband with desperate eyes.

“I must have misheard, right…? There’s no way our daughter would do something like that…?”

Please, say that’s true. Anwen could hear the plea in her voice.

But he couldn’t meet her expectations. It was time to face reality.

“My lady…”

A daughter so wicked she could have represented House Tenevris with pride…

“…I’m afraid Lerial may have become kind.”

“W-What are you saying…?”

Kind. At Anwen’s dreadful verdict, Roblin staggered, unable to stand properly.

A nearby servant hurried to support her.

Even if she’d been told her daughter was terminally ill, she wouldn’t have been this shocked. In some ways, this was far worse.

“That can’t be true! Our daughter has been playing with the maids like toys since she was little! She even personally orchestrated her engagement to the royal family and saw it through to the end…!”

“I know, Roblin. Of course I know. But still…”

Unable to endure it any longer, she collapsed and burst into tears.

Anwen felt as though his heart were being torn apart.

The atmosphere in the room sank further and further. All of this was a disaster caused by their daughter becoming kind.

“…Calm yourself. Don’t cry, please.”

“Hic… h-hic…”

“We can’t be certain yet. Perhaps today was just a one-time thing…”

To see such a taciturn man trying to comfort his grieving wife.

The servants began to whisper among themselves, but the couple didn’t even have the presence of mind to silence them.

“I have a plan in mind. Wouldn’t it be better to try that first before we give in to sorrow?”

“Hic… a plan…?”

Crying like a child, his wife cautiously lifted her head.

As Anwen carefully wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes with his fingers, he explained the scheme that had just come to mind.

“Do you remember? The year Lerial came of age—when she slapped the cheek of the young lady from Count Rostain’s house, who had declared she’d hold her debutante ball on the same day?”

“Of course. How could I ever forget such a glorious moment…?”

Smack!

Blowing her nose into the handkerchief Anwen handed her, Roblin nodded, her voice thick and nasal.

“Slapping her in itself was praiseworthy. But striking the daughter of a count whose family had sworn loyalty to us wasn’t quite right. So we decided to give her a punishment, at least in form, to make her reflect…”

Anwen recalled the incident from a year ago.

His daughter had lifted her chin proudly and refused his corporal punishment.

No. I did nothing wrong.

There wasn’t a shred of remorse in her sharp, catlike eyes.

She knew perfectly well that my debutante ball was that day, and she still chose the same date. How impudent.

But striking the young lady of Count Rostain—

Father, think about it the other way around. It’s not that I slapped her. It’s that that bitch did something that deserved to be slapped.

Her lips curled upward, her arms firmly crossed.

A confidence that no one—not even her father—could suppress her malice.

Anwen remembered feeling goosebumps rise along his arms at the sight of that flower of villainy already in full bloom.

Go warn Count Rostain that if he doesn’t manage his daughter properly, loyalty or not, we’ll crush him. He’s been getting awfully impudent lately anyway. How ridiculous.

…I see. You’re saying we should turn this around and use it instead.

Exactly. We need to teach them, with their own bodies, what happens when they dare challenge House Tenevris.

I repeat, I did nothing wrong!

Her confident voice still seemed to echo vividly in his ears.

Coming out of his recollection, Anwen took Roblin’s hand and helped her to her feet.

She seemed somewhat calmer now, biting her lip tightly as she leaned on him.

“Remember our daughter as she was, my lady—the one who rebelled so splendidly.”

“…Yes. The child who never listened to a word we said and always went even further.”

“Then if we pressure her face-to-face again, won’t she return to the Lerial we once knew?”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right…!”

Hope welled up once more. Roblin pressed her face against her husband’s chest and nodded repeatedly.

Only then did Anwen take her shawl and casually toss it to a nearby servant. Relief finally settled over his own features as well.

Yes. She is my proud daughter. If it’s her, then surely…

And so Anwen waited for nothing more than his daughter’s return home.