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Chapter 11
As soon as I spotted the duke’s butler, I felt confident I could grab him by the collar and demand he clean up the mess his clearly insane master had created.
But no matter how much I looked around, I couldn’t find the butler anywhere. And somehow, all the servants had disappeared too. I had only said I wanted to look around on my own—how exactly had they interpreted that?
Since there was no one nearby, they must have received some other urgent message and returned to the mansion. So what was I supposed to do now?
After some thought, I came to a conclusion. There had to be a reason the butler had stepped away.
Come to think of it, this household had just held the funeral for the duke and his second son yesterday. If there was an urgent matter, it was probably related to that. I couldn’t very well interrupt.
In that case, maybe I should just stroll through the garden until the butler returned.
As I wandered deeper into the garden, enormous trees came into view. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, glittering softly, making me feel as though I’d traveled somewhere far away.
Or maybe like there ought to be fairies living in the woods here. Tiny, adorable fairies full of mischief. Perhaps after playing to their hearts’ content, they’d lie down against a tree root and drift off to sleep.
Yeah. Just like that little kid over there.
“…Huh?”
For the second time today, I doubted my own eyes.
Seriously—why was there a little boy sleeping in the garden of House Glentino?
Careful not to make any noise, I crept closer little by little… but the more I looked at him, the more familiar he seemed.
Chestnut-brown hair gleaming in the sunlight. Long lashes covering closed eyes. A straight little nose. An adorable child who looked perfectly suited to those cute shorts.
He was the boy I’d seen yesterday at Arnold’s funeral. What was his name again…?
“Isn’t that Arne?”
“That’s correct.”
Good heavens!
Startled, I spun around.
Owen ta Glentino stood there with one hand tucked into his pocket, watching me with a crooked posture.
If the sleeping child looked like a woodland fairy, then this man looked like a dangerously handsome forest god who lured people astray.
Judging by his expression, he looked somewhat relieved… and somehow resigned at the same time. Lowering my voice so the child wouldn’t wake up, I asked,
“Did your business go well?”
“I’m dealing with it right now.”
“…What?”
The man strode toward the sleeping child beneath the tree.
“This little one disappeared from his room. The entire staff has been searching for him.”
“Ah…”
The butler had been looking after this child yesterday too. So the ducal household was taking care of him, apparently. Well, if a child you’d taken responsibility for suddenly vanished, that would be a serious problem.
The man lifted the boy with a motion lighter than plucking a flower. The child continued sleeping peacefully.
As I watched, seized by the urge to poke those soft, squishy cheeks, the man suddenly asked,
“When did the two of you exchange names?”
“Ah, yesterday. We happened to run into each other. Though Arne probably doesn’t know my name.”
“I see.”
And Arne had certainly said several short but unforgettable things. But they sounded like the kind of nonsense children said, so there was probably no need to repeat them.
Still staring at the boy, I murmured almost unconsciously,
“He’s really adorable. So cute.”
“That’s good.”
The man answered so expressionlessly—though I would later learn this was actually his version of being extremely nervous—that for a second I thought I’d misheard him saying, “So what?”
But I was a civilized lady raised with proper etiquette, so I politely asked,
“…Pardon? What do you mean?”
Adjusting the child slightly in his arms, the man replied slowly,
“This child is yours.”
I couldn’t understand what he meant.
There weren’t any difficult words in that sentence, and yet somehow it made absolutely no sense.
Blankly, I asked,
“What do you mean by ‘my child’?”
“Exactly what I said. It means that this child, Arne, is your son, my lady.”
No, seriously, what the hell did that mean?!
Just as I was about to ask again, the little boy’s eyes suddenly flew open.
“!”
Light green eyes blinked beneath sleepy lids before gradually focusing.
His gaze darted around once or twice… then landed directly on me.
And suddenly the child beamed so brightly it felt as though the whole world had lit up.
“Mom!”
“Eek!”
Why the hell am I your mom?!
I looked up at the man holding the child, and he calmly nodded as though to say, Yes. Exactly that.
What in the world was this? Some elaborate scam involving a child? A brand-new scheme targeting naïve young noble ladies?
Completely oblivious to my turmoil, the boy declared confidently,
“See? I told you we’d meet again.”
Yesterday you called me big sister, you little menace!
Originally, I’d planned to continue demanding answers in the garden.
But this wasn’t exactly a conversation to have in front of a child insisting I was his mother. Besides, I needed time to process things, so we moved to the drawing room instead.
Damn it. I’d escaped earlier because I didn’t want tea and snacks, and now I was having tea and snacks again.
Still, things changed if the snack in question was raisin cookies. In that awful household obsessed only with chocolate cookies, I’d never gotten to eat these.
And honestly, my nerves were so frayed I needed something to chew on.
After taking a sip of hot tea and biting into a raisin cookie to mentally prepare myself, I spoke.
“So. You’re saying that child is my son.”
“Yes.”
The man answered as though he were calmly stating the single greatest truth in the universe.
At this point, I felt like the unreasonable one for insisting it was a lie. But it was a lie!
“How in the world are you so certain that child is mine?”
At my question, the butler—who had just entered to serve tea—looked utterly horrified.
He was probably staring at me like I was the most shameless woman alive. Still, being the competent butler he was, he silently refilled the snacks and left without a word.
Despite my reaction, the man before me merely slipped a hand inside his coat as though he’d expected this all along. His long fingers withdrew an envelope from his inner pocket.
“It arrived three days ago.”
The envelope was stiff and immaculate, clearly well preserved.
He handed it to me without taking his eyes off me.
Had anyone ever looked at me like this before? Without sticky emotions, without anger or contempt—just quietly looking at me.
I couldn’t read much emotion in his eyes. Somehow that made me both nervous… and strangely ticklish inside.
Still, if he thought I’d be intimidated, he was mistaken. I lifted my chin proudly and took the envelope.
The first line read:
[Hello, Young Duke Glentino.
This child is Sophia ta Bartoli’s son.
If possible, I would appreciate it if you could take him in.]
“…?”
What kind of nonsense was this?! Who would send such a ridiculous prank letter to this man without even telling me about it?!
Below that was a brief description of the child. His name was “Arne,” and he would soon be turning ten.
The letter was short, so my eyes quickly reached the bottom.
And the sender written there was—
[Elouise ta Bartoli]
“Ha…”
People always say when something is too absurd, words fail you.
My hands trembled with betrayal.
“Elouise…!”
My youngest sister—the lunatic brat wandering the continent claiming she wanted to become a traveling bard—what the hell had she done this time?!
After barely calming myself and taking a breath, I said,
“…First of all, I apologize for the misunderstanding. She’s usually more…”
No. I couldn’t even finish the sentence with ‘not like this.’ This was exactly the kind of thing she’d do!
So instead I changed course.
“For now, I’ll need to verify whether this letter is genuine. I can’t confirm it was truly sent by my sister based on this alone.”
“Ah, regarding that.”
The man held something out to me. Reflexively, I accepted it.
“This is…”
“It was enclosed with the letter.”
It was a silver feather-shaped hairpin decorated with tiny pearls. When I turned it over, Elouise’s name was engraved on the inner side of the feather ornament.
There was no way I could fail to recognize it.
I had personally given this to Elouise myself! For her tenth birthday!
“Judging by your reaction, it seems the sender’s identity has been confirmed.”
The man sounded unsurprised.
Without replying, I tucked the hairpin away. Still, my voice softened noticeably.
“But he truly isn’t my child.”
“It seems the child himself believes otherwise.”
By “the child,” he meant Arne, who had woken up and was now wandering through the garden.
But I had no idea why he thought that either! Seriously, why?!
Glancing out the window, I spotted the little boy sitting alone at a tea table in the garden, staring up at the sky.
Melancholy pale green eyes. Fair skin. Brown hair.
Yeah… if he kept growing like this, he’d definitely become the kind of handsome man who could shake the entire empire.
Just like the man sitting in front of me.
As though sensing my gaze, the child turned toward me.
Startled, I froze—then the boy smiled sweetly at me.
I’m doomed. Completely doomed.
Hurriedly lowering my head, I gestured lightly toward the man and whispered,
“Come to think of it, doesn’t he resemble you more? Are you sure he isn’t your son?”
“Then let’s go with that.”
The man I’d expected to deny it immediately instead accepted it without hesitation.
“…What?”
“You’re the mother and I’m the father. Then he can simply be our child.”
“Wh—what?!”
Setting down his empty teacup with a soft clink, the man said,
“Let’s get married.”
