IRGS 07

Chapter 7

The sound of footsteps stopped right in front of me.

The moment I turned my head, I was startled by how close the child was.

The little boy facing me had emerald-green eyes. Was he seven or eight years old? His skin looked soft enough to smell sweet, and his chestnut-brown hair would probably glow under sunlight.

That angelically cute child looked at me, broke into a bright smile, and shouted in his tiny voice,

“Mom!”

Mom? I thought I was alone here.

I looked behind me, but there was still no one there. When I turned back, the little boy lightly smacked his own head a few times in a cute “oops” gesture.

Then he looked directly at me and declared,

“A pretty person!”

Oh my, this child really has good taste.

I barely held back the corners of my lips from curling upward and asked gently,

“Where are your parents? Did you get lost?”

“No! I came to find my mom!”

Which basically means you’re lost.

It seemed the child still wasn’t very good at expressing himself properly.

Still, what kind of family could produce such an angelically adorable child? If he was this beautiful, his parents must be quite attractive too.

The clothes the child wore were clean and expensive. As part of imperial education, I had memorized the family trees of nearly every notable noble house, but I couldn’t think of any family with a child this age whose face I wouldn’t recognize.

I brushed off the hem of my dress, stood up, and held out my hand.

“I hope you find your mother. Shall big sister help you look?”

“Yes!”

A soft little hand grabbed mine without hesitation.

Holding his hand, I started walking in the direction he had come from. If we retraced his steps, we’d probably find his guardian soon enough.

Just as I expected, it wasn’t long before I spotted a man dressed like a butler. He was probably from the Glentino Ducal House. The moment he saw us, his expression became one of someone who had narrowly avoided the sky collapsing on him.

“Young master…! How in the world did you wander all the way here…!”

Then he hurried toward us.

Judging by the situation, the butler must have been responsible for watching him.

The child looked like he recognized the butler. I crouched down again to meet his eyes and said,

“That man will help you find your mother.”

“Do you really think so?”

The child asked gloomily.

Hey now, butler. Try earning some trust from the kid.

While I awkwardly laughed it off, the butler finally reached us.

“Ah, Lady Bartolisi. Thank you for taking care of this… person.”

“This… person?”

What kind of vague title was that?

As I tilted my head in confusion, the little boy looked up at the butler and gestured toward me. Understanding what he meant, I bent down quickly.

The angelic little boy whispered into my ear,

“Miss, you’d look really good with my dad.”

What?!

Not my father, obviously—your father?!

Are you seriously trying to match me with a married man right now?!

When I was little, a lizard once fell onto my head and clung there like a hair ornament. While I screamed and shook around in terror, Leonie laughed herself breathless and said:

“You two suit each other perfectly, Sophia!”

Ever since then, the phrase “you suit each other” had never made me angry before.

But now?!

Unable to hide my horrified expression, I stared at him, and after thinking for a moment, the child whispered again,

“No, actually, I think you’re too good for him.”

“Obviously!”

Ah. Maybe I answered too enthusiastically considering he was talking about his father.

While I reflected internally, the boy—who didn’t seem offended at all—opened his round eyes wide and explained carefully,

“My dad is handsome because he looks like me. He’d be nice to keep at home and look at.”

“Oh my, really?”

At this point I was too dumbfounded, and the child was simply too cute, so I burst out laughing.

“And that’s not all, miss.”

“Then what else is there?”

“If you marry my dad, I think he’ll listen to you very well.”

The butler, who had been silently listening to this increasingly deranged conversation, hesitantly reached out toward the child.

Meanwhile, I was laughing so hard tears had started forming in my eyes.

The little boy tugged once more on the hem of my dress and whispered,

“My name is Arne. Let’s meet again, mo— …big sister.”

The excitement I’d felt from meeting such an angelically beautiful child quickly faded.

Because among the mourners, I noticed my father—the Marquis Bartoli.

‘He told me not to be lazy and hurry over, but he hadn’t even left yet himself?’

So I hid in a corner of the rose garden and killed some time until he departed.

In front of others, the marquis played the role of a fairly affectionate father, but sometimes traces of disgusting hatred leaked through his eyes. People with sharp instincts would definitely notice and start rumors.

‘Right. It’s not like I should be excited at my fiancé’s funeral.’

Especially a fiancé who had died because of me.

I felt guilty toward Arnold, despite our distant relationship. We hadn’t been close, but we certainly weren’t on bad enough terms for me to laugh around at his funeral.

Once my father completely disappeared, I slipped out from the rose garden and looked around.

Now all I had to do was pay my respects properly and go home.

For that, I needed to find either the duchess or the heir apparent.

Before I regressed, the designated heir had been the third son, who was already married. He inherited the title not long afterward.

I searched for a while but couldn’t spot anyone who looked like the duchess. So I shifted my target to the heir apparent instead.

The third son was probably wherever the crowd was thickest.

Finding that place wasn’t difficult.

Through the gaps between people, I could see a white marble altar piled high with flowers. I walked toward it.

What did the third son look like again?

I searched my memory, but nothing came to mind. I had probably met him a few times after he became Duke Glentino, but apparently he hadn’t left much of an impression.

Still, even if I didn’t know his face, I’d probably figure it out by intuition. The person greeting everyone most diligently would likely be him.

Thinking casually like that, I continued walking until I got close enough.

Pushing through people dressed in various styles of black mourning clothes, the person standing before me was—

“Prince Glentino?”

Owen ta Glentino.

Why was this man here?

Even if I were reborn again, I doubted I’d ever mistake this man’s face.

I stared blankly up at the man before me. He also looked slightly surprised as he gazed down at me.

“Lady Bartoli.”

Why had this changed?

Why was he here?

This was strange.

But I was probably the only one who found this scene strange. As the eldest son of House Glentino, it was only natural for this man to become the next head of the family.

In fact, during the previous funeral, people had quietly wondered why the eldest son was absent and why the third son had been named heir instead.

‘Another thing changed.’

Still, I showed no sign of my confusion and quietly placed down my flowers.

This man and I were supposed to be strangers. To me, he was merely my late fiancé’s older brother.

I lowered my head so the veil attached to my black cocktail hat concealed my face, greeted him politely, and quickly slipped away.

Truthfully, I didn’t have the courage to face him properly.

I couldn’t look directly at the man who had lost his younger brother because of me.

I crossed the garden quickly without looking back, and soon the Bartoli family carriage came into view. The coachman noticed me, climbed down, and opened the door.

Inside sat Bessie. Just as I had instructed, she was preparing to change the bandages on my feet.

With the coachman’s assistance, I was just about to step into the carriage when—

“Lady Bartoli.”

“?!”

I turned toward the voice and was shocked to see the man who had been greeting mourners moments ago now standing between me and the carriage, one arm blocking my path.

Bessie, the coachman, and I all stared at him wide-eyed.

“W-Why are you here?”

While I stammered, the man quickly scanned the inside of the carriage.

The moment his eyes landed on Bessie holding the bandages, she flinched as though stung by a bee.

“Excuse me.”

“Huh? Oh my goodness!”

Like a swift tiger, the man once again lifted me effortlessly—just like two days ago—and placed me inside the carriage.

Then he rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a small container. A sharp medicinal scent drifted from it.

I accepted it and sniffed curiously.

“What is this?”

“Ointment. Apply plenty of it.”

Ointment? Perfect timing. Exactly what I needed—

Wait, no!

If you say that in front of Bessie, it’ll sound like you and I were together somewhere!

I hurriedly turned toward Bessie, and as expected, she looked utterly shocked—and strangely hopeful.

Regardless of where my attention went, the man continued speaking after seating me inside the carriage.

“I’m busy today, so make time for me tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He looked somewhat impatient.

Running a large hand through his dark blond hair, he added,

“Stop entertaining ridiculous thoughts, go home, stretch out both legs comfortably, rest well, and come again tomorrow.”

Who in the world tells a woman who just lost her fiancé to “sleep with both legs stretched out comfortably”?

Especially when he’s the dead fiancé’s older brother.

More importantly, I had no intention of visiting the ducal estate ever again.

“Again? Why should I?”

“Not for my brother this time. You’ll be coming to see me.”