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Chapter 11
Splat!
It was like a bolt from the blue.
Agnes bolted upright in bed, startled out of her sleep. Something cold, sticky, and wet had been dumped on her face and body. The fatigue that had built up over the past two weeks had left her deeply asleep, and her mind struggled to wake up. It felt like someone had yanked her up by the hair from underwater.
“Pfuh—pft, puh—ugh!”
A strong chemical smell stung her nose. Instinctively, she clenched her eyes shut. She had a gut feeling that opening them recklessly could be dangerous. Groping around, Agnes pulled the blanket toward her and blindly rubbed around her eyes. Only then could she crack them open just slightly.
“Dye?”
The blanket was soaked in bright red dye. It was so vivid it could easily be mistaken for blood. Agnes looked up, stunned. There was only one person who could have done this.
“Timothy? Timothy, is that you? Throwing dye at someone’s face—what if it got in my eyes? I could’ve gone blind—!”
“……”
“Timothy?”
Just as she was about to scold him, Agnes stopped mid-sentence, struck by the unsettling atmosphere.
“…Timothy.”
“……”
Timothy was standing silently at the foot of the bed. At first, he was just a shadowy shape, motionless as if he were nailed in place. After blinking a few times, Agnes could finally make out his expression.
Timothy’s face was blank, cold like a doll’s.
“Timo—”
“Get out.”
“…What?”
“Get out of my sight. Now.”
If he had thrown a tantrum or yelled like usual, Agnes would have yelled right back. She had just been drenched in dye while peacefully sleeping, and the chemical could’ve caused real harm. But something about him made her stop. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Speaking too hastily felt like it would only make things worse.
Agnes approached him on her knees.
“Timothy…”
“You’re just like the rest.”
“…Just like?”
“You’re just like all the other adults…”
Timothy stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut. Agnes reached out unconsciously but pulled back when she saw her hand was covered in sticky dye. She wiped it on her pajamas and said,
“Do I really look just like them?”
Timothy stared at her. She was a mess, dyed head to toe. It would probably take half a day to get it all out of her hair. If she didn’t wash her skin soon, she’d likely break out in rashes or hives.
If that dye had gotten in her eyes, she really could have gone blind. Yet here she was, not even angry, just sitting in front of him, listening.
“…You look even more pathetic.”
Timothy tried to be sarcastic, but it didn’t quite land. Agnes waited silently for him to continue.
“Do you need money that badly?”
“……”
“You’re only here because of the money.”
His jaw tightened with frustration.
“You don’t even like dealing with kids like me, but you’re putting up with it because it’s your job!”
He trembled with betrayal. Timothy finally screamed and threw the dye pouch to the floor. It hit with a wet splat. Agnes didn’t even glance at it. She just kept looking at him.
“Who? Who told you that?”
“I heard it! Someone said you said it yourself!”
“……”
“You’re not even going to deny it? Fine! It’s all about the money. If it weren’t your job, no one would want to deal with someone like me!”
Timothy’s clenched fists shook violently.
“If it weren’t for the money, who would ever care about me?”
“…Do I really look that broke?”
“You do.”
“……”
“I heard your family’s ruined. You got scammed or something.”
Who the hell told a kid that crap? Agnes let out a long sigh.
“Well… yeah, that’s true.”
“So you came crawling here for the high pay, didn’t you? Of course they’d pay more to deal with someone like me, right?”
As Timothy ranted, breathing hard, Agnes quietly listened.
Earlier that day, even when they talked about sensitive topics like his parents, Timothy had held back his anger. That hadn’t been a fluke. He really had started to open up to her. Now he was talking about something someone else had said—likely someone in the Battenberg household who had casually mentioned Agnes’s circumstances.
They must have pestered her with nosy questions, and she must have brushed them off, not realizing the consequences.
‘It’s not like I can tell them the whole truth.’
That she’d gotten caught up in the Marquis Reynold’s rebellion, died, somehow come back, and was now trying to avoid a tragic fate—there was no way she could explain that. All she could say was the usual: I came here to work, I need the money, my family’s struggling…
Timothy bit his lip, then spoke. His voice was low and flat.
“Why won’t you say anything?”
“Because you’re right. What do you want me to say?”
“……”
“I came here to make money. Teaching you is my job. That’s all true. So what’s the problem?”
“You…”
“I don’t know who you heard it from, but whether it’s that person or me, we’re both hired by House Battenberg. We’re doing a job. We’re being paid. How can I deny that?”
Agnes wasn’t Timothy’s parent, sibling, or relative. She was a paid employee.
Ah, my eyes sting. Agnes rubbed them with the back of her hand, but it didn’t help. She gave up on wiping the dye away and just looked at Timothy. If anything, he looked even worse than she did.
His young face was twisted, ready to cry, etched with deep emotional scars.
“They’re all the same! Everyone! Ever since Mom and Dad disappeared, everyone’s been the same! That first tutor, Bain, and you…”
“……”
“Uncle Ethan only took me in out of obligation…”
“Uncle Ethan aside—what did that first tutor, Bain, say?”
“They’re all nice at first. Of course. I’m the son of Marquis Reynold.”
“…Ah.”
Even now, he was overflowing with pride. Agnes tried to distract herself from the stinging pain in her skin with idle thoughts. It didn’t work.
“Bain said he really liked me. That he wanted to help me. But behind my back, he said no one would ever want to deal with a nuisance like me unless it was for work!”
“Oh dear…”
“You—snf, you’re, you’re just the same…”
“……”
Agnes sighed softly.
Timothy really was a handful. He was unlike any other child she had worked with. Those children understood the nature of their relationship. That she was hired help. That was normal. They didn’t expect deep emotional bonds.
They just saw her as a fun teacher, a caring adult—but not family.
Even if they grew close over time, the tutor-student relationship had limits. Rachel and Eren from Reynold Castle had been different. They had been like family. And to them, Agnes had been just as special.
Timothy was like them.
‘He must be so lonely.’
How lonely must he be, to crave that kind of attachment from a stranger? To want someone to make him feel special?
“If you’re just here for the money too, then go. Just disappear! And stop—stop looking at me like that…”
Timothy’s round cheeks were soaked with tears. Agnes had assumed that when he cried, he’d scream and thrash around. But Timothy bit his lip and cried quietly, as if afraid someone might hear.
Agnes couldn’t even hug him—not when she was covered in sticky dye.
“How did I look at you?”
“……”
“Timothy. Tell me.”
“Don’t—don’t confuse me…”
He couldn’t hold back anymore. His shoulders shook, and he lowered his head.
“You idiot…”
He was the one who had saved her during their first meeting. No matter how much mischief he pulled, how much he mocked or scolded her, she had never lost her smile. She’d retaliated with childish pranks, claiming she was just meeting him on his level.
It was ridiculous. He was annoyed, yet somehow… excited. Happy. Even when it felt like he was losing control, he wasn’t really angry.
Agnes was…
“Don’t confuse me! Don’t look at me like I’m—like I’m cute or something, like—like a mom…”
“Oh dear…”
“Just go away…”
If he really wanted her to go, he shouldn’t have grabbed the hem of her dye-soaked pajamas so tightly.
