IGMDSML 06

Chapter 06

Two days passed far more quickly than Marisel had expected.

Even just packing clothes for the visit, gathering personal belongings, and having a meal with her parents had filled the time completely.

Soothing her parents’ mix of worry and disappointment required more effort than she had anticipated.

She decided to bring only light luggage into the Grand Duke’s estate, planning to request anything else she might need through Emma.

“Then I shall see you tomorrow morning. Rest well.”

Porre led Marisel to her room, explaining that tomorrow morning she would receive a formal introduction and a tour of the estate’s main facilities.

“Thank you, Porre. And… if it’s not too much trouble, could you spare some time this evening?”
“May I ask the reason?”

Porre’s polite question followed.

“I’d like to know a little beforehand, before meeting Prince Fleur tomorrow. If any questions are uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer.”

“In that case, I shall make time after dinner.”

“If you know anything about Prince Fleur—anecdotes, things you’ve heard—please tell me. Anything will help.”

Porre hesitated, weighing how much he could reveal and whether Marisel could be trusted.

The longer he thought, the deeper the furrows on his brow became. He could easily skip topics, but judging how it might affect Fleur was another matter entirely.

The more Porre considered it, the more trapped he felt. He stopped, instead looking into Marisel’s eyes.

He recalled a lesson from his father, the former steward:

“When judgment is difficult, look into a person’s eyes. Eyes rarely lie.”

What he saw in Marisel’s eyes was honesty—no selfish motives, just gratitude if he shared information and no harm if he didn’t.

Marisel smiled gently, reassuring him without a word.

“If it’s burdensome, you don’t have to say anything. I have no intention of troubling you. I just hope Prince Fleur can escape his suffering as soon as possible.”

After hearing that, Porre slowly spoke, as if having reached a decision.

“…Before entering the Grand Duke’s household, young master Fleur received strict succession training at the Quiana Marquess House.”
“……”
“Lady Paisley—Fleur’s mother—married the young marquess of Quiana as requested by her mother, the Marchioness. Their marriage was arranged…”

His account matched the rumors circulating among the nobility.

The Quiana Marquess had the Viscount’s family debts forgiven in exchange for Miles, Fleur’s father, inheriting the marquessate, under the condition that he marry Paisley.

Their marriage had been far from smooth. Paisley had longed for love and attention that Miles could not give, and Fleur had inevitably borne the consequences.

As Marisel returned to her room, she reflected on what Porre had shared. He had spoken with quiet sorrow for Fleur, a deep, almost paternal concern.

Through his account, she glimpsed not just the history of the Grand Duke’s house, but the weight of personal care behind it.

She thought of Fleur. At six years old, he had endured hardships no child should bear.

Marisel could relate to the pain, yet could not fully understand it.

In her past life, she had experienced the sudden deaths of her parents as an adult, and even then, it had been almost unbearable. She had once wished to die with them. If she could tear out her own heart, it might have been some relief, yet she could only grasp at her clothes and skin.

She understood now the kind of pain that strikes when a loved one dies unprepared. It is cruel beyond measure.

Every day was agony. When memories touched any part of the world, the thick longing swallowed even her tears.

Time seemed to stop, leaving her alive yet as good as dead.

If adults could feel this, how much more unbearable must it have been for little Fleur, who had lost everything in his world? Her chest ached.

Marisel had chosen to become a nanny for her own survival, yet thinking of a child facing such harsh reality stirred in her a deep, consuming compassion.

She had once heard that self-pity rusts like wet iron left unattended—emotions soaked in past sorrow can corrode life itself if left unchecked.

Since then, she had been cautious with the word compassion.

But now, compassion was exactly what was needed. How could she hope to understand Fleur’s heart without it?

He probably could not feel sadness yet. All painful experiences were likely buried deep in his unconscious.

If ignored, he might survive for a time. But the longer this continued, the more fragile his life would become.

People often bury their suffering along with the circumstances, and if the past resurfaces, the capable adult self is gone, replaced by the helpless child of that day.

Then the same agony repeats. Naturally, humans avoid confronting such memories unconsciously.

Marisel had experienced this firsthand in her previous life.

But she knew it was only a trick of the unconscious. With support and encouragement, one could summon the courage to face it—and prevent the current self from disappearing.

She wanted to be that support for Fleur.

To help him confront past pain and move toward the future.

For both children and adults, the best way to prepare to face pain is through a peaceful daily life, filled with good memories and experiences.

Marisel resolved to give Fleur as many peaceful days and happy memories as possible.

For a child alive yet as good as dead, she allowed herself the compassion she had long kept cautious.

The grand hall on the first floor.

“From today, Miss Marisel Manua of the Manua Viscount House will serve as Prince Fleur’s nanny.”

After Porre’s brief introduction, Marisel stepped forward.

“Pleased to meet you. Please feel free to call me Nanny Marisel.”

Whispers spread among the staff—she’s beautiful, what difference will it make, hope this nanny is different—all subtle judgments comparing her to previous nannies.

“…Hopefully, she won’t end up causing trouble as before.”
“I wonder how long she’ll last this time.”
“As long as she’s not like the last strange nanny, it’ll be fine.”
“Still… this one feels different, don’t you think?”
“Hmm? Really? I’m not sure…”

Marisel smiled lightly and continued:

“I hear your concerns, and I understand why. It shows your care for the Grand Duke’s household and for Prince Fleur.”

She scanned the group with a calm, steady gaze.

“I, too, will care for the prince with all my heart. I hope you will support me in doing so.”

She nodded slightly to Porre, signaling the end of her introduction.

“Henceforth, Nanny Marisel will assist in caring for Prince Fleur diligently. As members of the household, that is your duty. The introduction ends here; please return to your posts.”

Once Porre finished, the staff dispersed quickly.

Marisel followed him toward Fleur’s room.

The prince’s chamber was the second room on the left, centered on the second floor. Morgan’s office and bedroom were on the right, adjacent. Fortunately, Marisel’s room was near Fleur’s.

“Your Excellency dislikes disturbances while working.”
“Noted, and thank you.”

When Porre had gone almost down the stairs, Marisel knocked gently on Fleur’s door.

Knock knock.

“Prince Fleur, may I come in for a moment?”

“Prince Fleur…?”

Inside, her footsteps echoed unnaturally, like in a cave rather than a room. Marisel lifted her heels slightly, trying to tread quietly.

“I’m Marisel. I’ll be caring for you from now on…”

She spoke softly, scanning for where the child might be. Not on the bed, nor behind the sofa.

The room is far too large…

The spaciousness only heightened his loneliness and anxiety. Thinking of that made her frown.

Porre had said Fleur avoided people, especially adult men. Likely trauma from past incidents.

Meals were left by a maid when he was hungry. Washing or changing clothes was only done forcibly when a new nanny arrived.

After the last nanny had been dismissed, no one could force him—except they were told to ensure he ate.

The more she walked through what should have been a child’s room, the heavier her heart felt.