MLWR 03

Chapter : 03

Marianne lightly pressed down on the back of the small hand.

“Uh… uuh…?”

Cedric opened his red eyes wide amid the crumbs scattering like flower petals, then soon began to whimper.

His large eyes quickly filled with moisture and trembled.

Looking at those pitiful eyes, Marianne suddenly felt as if she had become a heartless villain who had done something cruel, and she grew flustered.

But she couldn’t back down now, so she put a gentle smile on her lips.

“Eating like that goes against proper manners, Cedric. Watch closely.”

She spoke slowly and clearly so the child could understand, then released his hand and picked up the bread.

When she tore off a small piece—just enough for a child to eat in one bite—and held it out, Cedric flinched.

“Here. Say ‘ah.’”

At least he’s not running away.

Marianne extended her hand very slowly so as not to startle him further.

“Uh…”

When the piece of bread finally reached right in front of his plump lips, Cedric blinked repeatedly and fell into deep contemplation.

The boy, torn between hunger and fear, eventually opened his mouth just a little.

See? Nothing beats food in the end.

“Oh my,” Amelie murmured softly beside them, and Marianne’s smile brightened even more.

From Amelie’s perspective, no matter how young he is, he’s still the master. She couldn’t have forced him to eat.

If Marianne hadn’t been someone Cedric had already met before today, he wouldn’t have been this tense—or this obedient.

But for now, listening quietly was enough.

“Good job. This is how you eat bread, okay?”

Marianne praised him, then gently pushed the piece of bread between his small lips.

Cedric chewed and swallowed, then tilted his head in confusion. It seemed the bread looked different from what he usually ate.

Honestly… how can just tilting his head be this pretty and cute?

Smiling to herself, Marianne picked up a spoon.

She was planning to feed Cedric some stew as well.

“Um, Your Highness. I’m sorry to interrupt during the meal, but the young duke… does not use cutlery. He only uses wooden utensils, so I ask for your understanding.”

“Oh… right. Thank you for telling me, Amelie.”

“It’s nothing. As long as you don’t get too close, it should be fine.”

Amelie, who had hurriedly cut in, stepped back with a look of relief.

Marianne set the silver spoon back down and briefly compared her own utensils with Cedric’s.

Indeed, hers had been dulled to a matte finish as much as possible, while everything Cedric used was made of blunt-looking wood.

Still, the wood had been carved so finely—even with small decorative details—that it didn’t feel crude.

“Amelie. Then could you hand me Cedric’s spoon? Hmm… no.”

Shaking her head, Marianne tore the bread into another bite-sized piece. She lightly dipped it into the stew and held it out to Cedric.

“Try this too, Cedric.”

Cedric hesitated for a moment.

But perhaps because he remembered eating just before, he didn’t deliberate long this time and obediently opened his mouth.

“Uh…!”

After chewing the bread a few times, Cedric’s eyes lit up—it seemed much tastier than plain bread. As he swallowed, he broke into a shy smile.

Oh my goodness. He’s too cute.

Seeing Cedric’s smiling eyes, Marianne pressed a hand to her chest. A male lead really is a male lead.

Even though he was still so young, his features were already well-defined, like a baby angel. And when he smiled so brightly, she almost imagined hearing a chorus of Sanctus ringing in her ears.

“Is it good?”

“Uh!”

Cedric even nodded.

She hadn’t expected him to answer like that.

Marianne leaned back against the chair and this time tore off a piece of bread for herself and took a bite.

“Uuuh…”

“Hm?”

At the sulky, whining sound, Marianne lifted her head slightly.

Seeing Cedric covering his mouth with his hand, she barely managed to suppress her laughter.

“You thought it was for you, didn’t you? But Cedric, I can’t always take care of you.”

She spoke gently.

The meaning behind her words wasn’t all that gentle, though. After all, in this world, she was nothing more than an extra.

Even if she managed to survive somehow in the duke’s estate, she couldn’t stay by Cedric’s side forever.

Estelle will come here eventually.

So Marianne also had to think about how she would live after leaving the estate.

She had already resolved not to return to the imperial palace from the moment she boarded the carriage to the north—so she needed to find a place where she could live safely on her own.

“Uh?”

Pulled back to reality by Cedric’s sound, Marianne looked at him again.

She smiled as she met his quiet gaze.

For now, she just needed to focus on surviving well in the duke’s estate.

“Now, Cedric. Try copying me.”

Marianne raised the bread slightly so Cedric could see clearly.

But just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway, and the lesson couldn’t continue.

“…I’ll go check.”

With heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor, Amelie headed for the door. The moment she grabbed the handle, the door was flung open roughly inward.

Amelie didn’t even have time to dodge and slammed her forehead hard against the door.

“Huh? So this is where you were. A guest arrives and you don’t even come out to greet them—honestly, are your eyes glued to the floor? Watch where you’re going!”

Even though he must have clearly seen her reddened forehead, the potbellied man who had opened the door scolded Amelie as if she were the one at fault.

After barking at her in a harsh voice, the man noticed Marianne and Cedric sitting at the table and narrowed his already small eyes even further.

“Oh! So you’re Her Highness the Princess. I’ve heard much about you! I’m Dieter—uncle of the young Duke of Calais.”

He immediately began rubbing his palms together and bowing obsequiously. The rings on each thick finger clinked together, making an unpleasant sound.

“I even brought a couple of maids so you won’t be inconvenienced during your stay at the estate. Please, make yourself comfortable!”

Marianne knew exactly who he was.

Dieter Cromba.

Originally, the name Calais followed after Cromba, but after the emperor came to despise the grand duke, Dieter immediately discarded the family name and groveled before the imperial faction.

Thanks to that quick and despicable decision, despite being from a collateral branch, he was ordered by the emperor to manage the Calais family in place of young Cedric—and became a villain who meddled in everything.

He was the person Marianne least wanted to meet in the north, and yet here he was already.

What should I say so he understands I have no intention of ever getting along with a bastard like you?

As she was pondering that, more footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Looks like eating in peace is out of the question. Marianne gave up on continuing her meal and looked toward the half-open door.

This time, two tall men entered—very different from Dieter.

Judging by their light leather armor and swords at their waists, they seemed to be knights guarding the estate.

“I apologize. It was during our patrol, so we couldn’t inform you in advance of Count Cromba’s visit.”

“It’s fine, Sir Miel.”

“Oh! Then could this beautiful lady be Princess Marianne, who was scheduled to arrive today? Ah, what a shame—if it weren’t for my duties, I could have had the honor of escorting you upon your arrival.”

“…Sir Thomas, you should mind your decorum.”

Unlike the composed Miel, the knight named Thomas was not only unpleasant-looking but also crude in his behavior, making Marianne frown instinctively.

Amelie seemed to feel the same, as she sharply reprimanded Thomas.

“Hahaha, that could be so. Head butler, you’re awfully strict. Ah, Count Cromba! It’s been a while—have you been well?”

“Of course. Thanks to the medicinal tea you sent before, I’m fit as a fiddle.”

“I’m very glad it helped. Haha.”

Smoothly brushing off Amelie’s remark, Thomas bowed excessively to Dieter.

I see. So he’s one of Dieter’s planted lackeys.

Marianne watched the villain and his subordinate exchanging banter with a cold gaze.

Then her eyes met Miel’s, who stood beside Thomas with a stiff expression.

In his calmly subdued golden eyes lingered a faint sense of discomfort toward the situation—and hostility directed at Marianne.

He looks like a real knight.

Marianne smiled softly and called Amelie in a small voice.

“Amelie.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

She was about to ask her to help Cedric finish his meal.

But seeing the faint blood seeping from Amelie’s forehead, her words dissolved into nothing more than a breath on her lips.

“Uh, uuh!”

Before Marianne could continue, Cedric’s eyes widened.

The reddish blood staining precious Amelie’s forehead appeared as sheer terror to the boy.

Cedric had already returned to that dreadful day when snow had fallen like madness.

“Uuh! Uuuh!”

The table rattled. The bowl of stew fell, splattering the floor into a mess.

“Y-Young Duke! I’m fine, really. Please calm down.”

Amelie hurriedly covered her forehead, but it was no use.

The mark wrapping around Cedric’s arm began to flicker.

At that sight, Marianne’s heart dropped.

In the novel, whenever Cedric went berserk, it was described as darkness rising from his entire body.

But Marianne stood up from her chair and approached Cedric.

Because the sight of Cedric—tears streaming from his empty, unfocused eyes—was simply too pitiful.

“Th-that lunatic is at it again! He’s about to go crazy—no, rampage! My goodness, Your Highness! You mustn’t!”

“Cedric.”

Ignoring the noisy Dieter, Marianne pulled the small Cedric—far too small to be thirteen—into her arms.

“…Ngh.”

The mana spilling from Cedric attacked Marianne.

Her unprotected palms stung, but it was pain she could endure.

“It’s okay, Cedric.”

It’s okay—she whispered again and again, gently patting his back.

“Uh…”

Whether it was her warmth or her voice, the mana that had wavered like black smoke slowly settled.

After soothing Cedric one last time, Marianne entrusted the unconscious, limp child to Amelie, who had come to her side.

Then she turned an ice-cold gaze on Dieter.

“Count Dieter Cromba.”

“Y-Yes?”

Sensing the ominous atmosphere, Dieter began rubbing his palms again—but Marianne’s finger was already pointing at the floor.

“Kneel.”