IBYVS 22

Chapter 22

Because of Elia’s worries, even Calib found himself sinking into concern.

In the end, Cedric, unable to watch any longer, said a word.

‘Elia, if you just keep your mouth shut, no one will ever know.’

It was clearly Elia who had used Cedric, and yet, the way he spoke made it sound like it was Cedric who had used her.

‘How could Elia possibly feel reassured by words like that!’

That was what Calib truly thought—but Elia was quite an unexpected person.

‘Really? Then maybe I should just stitch my mouth shut.’

She had been so anxious when explaining in detail how things could go wrong if Calib were caught.

But now—

‘So all I have to do is keep my mouth shut, right? Then I’ll trust and follow you!’

At Cedric’s words, which sounded more like a threat, Elia visibly relaxed.

Watching that, Calib grew puzzled.

‘It didn’t feel like she was doubting me just because I’m young…’

And truthfully, Elia always treated Calib with genuine sincerity.

So his suspicions wandered elsewhere.

‘Could it be… Elia is weak to threats? No, more precisely, maybe she’s weak to authority figures.’

Come to think of it, she was unusually strict about hierarchy.

‘With everyone except me, she acts so disciplined—almost like a knight.’

There had been such an incident once.

Olivia, who was assigned to serve Elia, was ostracized by the maids simply because Elia was a “commoner.”

‘No matter how much favor she has from Lord Cedric and the young master, she’s still just a commoner.’

‘Did you see it? Always following her around going, “Lady Elia~ Lady Elia~.” So shameless.’

Although the other maids may have been of common or merchant origin, Olivia was the daughter of a vassal house.

For convenience, she was introduced as Elia’s maid, but in truth, she was closer to a lady-in-waiting.

And once Elia befriended Olivia, she came to understand this.

But the idea that serving a mere commoner counted as demotion? To gossip behind her back over that?

Worse still, every word of that gossip reached Elia’s own ears.

One day, as she was wandering aimlessly, worried about how Marquis Renald might retaliate against her, she ended up near the storeroom where the maids often gathered.

And there, Elia decided to set things straight.

‘Hey, you. Stop a sec.’

‘Y-yes?’

‘All of you, come here.’

Calib had heard this story second-hand from Edwin.

According to him, Elia squatted there like some back-alley thug, beckoning the maids over with just a finger.

When they approached, her usually pure face twisted into a frightening scowl.

‘What the hell? Talking trash about your superior at work, huh? Do you maids have no sense of rank? Didn’t your head maid teach you better?’

From Elia’s refined lips poured out the crudest, most vulgar words imaginable.

Everyone knew she was Cedric’s fiancée—but also a commoner.

So the maids of similar origin didn’t back down.

‘Lady Elia, we’ll pretend we didn’t hear anything, so just go.’

‘If your delicate skin ends up scratched while you’re quarreling with us, we’ll be the ones in trouble.’

‘Or what, are you going to beat us up?’

‘With those thin arms, do you even have the strength to hit us?’

The maids were tough—years of laundry, scrubbing, and cleaning had built up their strength.

But Elia was tougher.

By the time Edwin had run off to fetch someone—well, he said he was going for a snack—Elia had subdued them all.

With her fists!

Squatting there, she blew on her fingernails and said:

‘One for “discipline,” two for “unity.” One.’

‘D-Discipline!’

‘Two.’

‘…Unity!’

And so, the maids found themselves doing push-ups, properly broken in.

‘Even knights don’t get drilled like that.’

Edwin had rubbed his goosebumped arms as he recalled it.

Cedric had been skeptical, but Calib believed it wholeheartedly.

After all, he had already witnessed Elia’s strength himself.

‘When I checked later, I learned that wolf-beast she killed had once overpowered two trained knights.’

Yet Elia had shattered its skull with a single kick.

‘Just who was she before she lost her memories? Was she even really human?’

And why was she so obsessed with hierarchy?

Calib had no way of knowing that Elia had once been an athlete, drilled in discipline and order.

So his suspicions only grew deeper.

‘If Elia really is weak to authority… then if I were to rise higher in status…’

Calib imagined quietly to himself.

‘Would that mean Elia would stay by my side?’

Perhaps winning her over wasn’t about pitying himself to make her stay.

In truth, Calib didn’t even have time for that approach—since Jeril had already been driven out.

‘Of course, becoming Elia’s “superior” isn’t exactly easy.’

The very definition of “superior” was vague.

To be her employer, he would have to become duke, not just the young duke’s heir.

The master of the domain was always the duke.

‘Even if my brother supports me, the retainers won’t accept me so easily.’

Calib’s standing was already precarious.

Even after Cedric renounced succession and declared he would marry a commoner, nothing changed.

Marriage made one a full member of the family. It could even be seen as solidifying Cedric’s standing.

‘That’s why the retainers cling to hope that he might still become duke.’

But if his bride was a commoner, the story changed.

No one wanted to serve a duchess from such low birth.

‘And in times of crisis, they couldn’t even lean on her family for support.’

Even so, the retainers continued to push Cedric forward as heir.

‘Why are they so desperate to keep me from becoming duke?’

Until now, Calib had been too busy enduring their disdain to wonder.

But now, he couldn’t help it.

At the same time, Elia’s words echoed in his mind.

‘Of course parents would search for their lost child!’

‘What parent in the world would give up when there’s still a chance their child is alive?’

‘Even if it’s a thorny path full of danger, they’d gladly run to find them.’

Was it because Elia spoke with real emotion, unlike Cedric?

‘When she says it, I really believe it.’

Thanks to her, Calib finally understood he had no reason to feel guilty over his parents’ absence.

The fault lay with the adults who burdened him with such guilt.

‘No… something’s strange. There must be another reason they don’t want me as duke.’

Relieved of some of his emotional weight, Calib’s mind was now clear enough to question things logically.

‘I have to find out why. And… I need to confirm if Elia really is weak to authority.’

If she was, then all he had to do was become duke.

‘Yes. There’s no reason I can’t become duke. In fact, as my brother said, our parents died to protect me. For their sake, I must become duke.’

Thinking it through, Cedric’s words had been right all along.

‘If I become duke, then even the ducal castle won’t frighten me anymore!’

Calib nodded to himself again and again, as if vowing it.

“Why are you thinking so hard?”

Cedric had arrived at some point, his voice carrying a faint smile.

It was already lunchtime.

Glancing behind Cedric, Calib asked, “Huh? Where’s Elia?”

“I invited her, but she said she was tired after a busy morning and wanted to rest.”

“She’s very tired?”

“Mm. We had a full meeting this morning about the wedding, so it seems to have worn her out.”

Now that Marquis Renald’s fierce opposition had weakened, they needed to move quickly.

Because marrying a commoner so hastily was bound to stir gossip, many things needed careful handling.

Rumors already spread that “they are marrying to enter the Sanctuary of Knowledge and break the curse.”

But nobles loved gossip, so preparing in advance could only help.

At the same time, Cedric had been looking into Elia’s relatives.

Still, none of that mattered for why she skipped lunch.

The real reason was simple: she didn’t want to intrude on the brothers’ private time—like Jeril once had.

So she’d feigned fatigue. Of course, they had no idea.

In truth, Calib had been looking forward to dining with her again.

Since coming to the ducal castle, meals with Elia had been rare.

‘It’s been so long since I’ve tasted her cooking.’

He sighed softly, looking at the sumptuous feast laid before him.

He missed the peppery potato soup, the fresh grilled salmon—especially that “potato pancake” she’d once proudly introduced.

‘You should try it sometime. Ah, right. My potato pancakes are really good. Whenever it rained, people always begged me to make them.’

‘But since it hasn’t rained, I can’t exactly bring it up…’

Remembering her words, Calib suddenly felt uneasy.

‘Wait… didn’t Elia say she lost her memories? That she doesn’t even know who she is, or if she has any family?’

She remembered ordinary things, yet strangely, nothing about herself.

Not even why she had been living alone in a cabin deep in the woods.

When Calib questioned her, Elia had answered nervously, sweating bullets.

‘I-I think I hit my head really hard.’

He knew head trauma could cause memory loss—and sometimes, fragments returned through certain triggers.

‘Maybe cooking potato pancakes brought a memory back.’

That she hadn’t told him right away didn’t matter much.

‘If she made potato pancakes for someone, that means she has people she once knew.’

Someday, those people would come looking for her.

And then… she might leave with them.

That was all that mattered to Calib.

‘I need to make sure she stays.’

He nodded firmly to himself, lost in thought.