Chapter 11
“Kristan Pandeon.”
“…….”
“If you see someone, at the very least, offer a greeting. That’s proper manners.”
“-Since when did you care so much about my etiquette?”
The boy paused at her scolding, but his expression did not show remorse. Instead, he looked back at her with a gaze that felt oddly detached for a child. Then, as if regarding her with mild disdain, he said:
“Do not waste your energy on a fight you cannot win. It will only stir trouble in the household.”
Even though she hadn’t told him to leave, Kristan walked off on his own accord. Karia watched the child’s retreating back and let out a dry laugh.
“He really is the spitting image of my father.”
That was somewhat reassuring. Karia was certain that she was not needed by the children. Any lingering sense of responsibility she had as a stepmother was absolved by their firm rejection.
Once her relationship with the Duke broke down, she would have no connection to the children. At that point, she would simply consign their misbehavior to memory.
Letting go of the boy and girl, whom she had once considered the only children in her life, was not difficult. After all, Karia had never truly been a mother to them.
“Are you sure these are all the clothes I have here?”
“Yes, yes. I manage the wardrobe, so I know. The Duchess’s clothing spans from here to here, and that’s everything.”
The maid in the wardrobe was startled by the sudden arrival of other servants and the Duchess herself, who had come unexpectedly during her work.
She had heard about the Duchess’s actions from other maids before, but this was completely different from the usual demeanor.
Some had called the Duchess’s confinement of the Dowager Lady scandalous and claimed that no matter how assertive she acted, she was just a puppet Duchess who would eventually tire of it—but from the maid’s perspective, this did not seem the case.
Those sharp eyes, that confident posture, and her decisiveness—it all seemed natural, as if flowing like water, not just bravado.
“Did ‘Tailor Marin’ make winter clothes for you last month?”
“Yes… yes… Duchess. We made winter clothes for Princess Lamia and the Dowager Lady.”
“And the ‘Haute Boutique’ from the previous month?”
“Two months ago, we made clothes for His Grace the Duke and Prince Kristan. Ah, the Dowager Lady also ordered a fan, hat, and shoes.”
Although it was time to organize the freshly laundered clothes, the maid did not offer unnecessary commentary. Instead, she faithfully reported everything she knew to avoid any mistake.
Her work contained no secrets, and she had never acted against her conscience. The previous wardrobe maid had been caught stealing jewels from dresses, beaten severely, and dismissed, so she was especially cautious.
Karia, however, continued to stare at her even after she finished speaking.
“Is there… a problem?”
“No, if what you said is true, it shouldn’t be a problem for you. But…”
“B-but?”
This was not a good start. The maid swallowed hard, tense, trying to think of anything she might have done wrong, but nothing came to mind.
As the maid’s face paled, Karia let out a soft, airy laugh.
“So, the Dowager Lady is ‘Madam,’ and I am the Duchess?”
“Y-yes? Ah, that’s—”
“Seems no one knows who truly runs this household.”
She said it lightly, as if joking, but the maid felt like she might die. Why point out that detail now, when it had never been mentioned before?
It had been an unspoken agreement among the servants not to call the Duchess “Madam.” They didn’t want a mistress like her—it was a silent protest.
This practice had started when Karia returned from her estate three years ago, and since no one had ever corrected her, it had become habitual.
The maid considered kneeling immediately and apologizing. But at that moment, a strong figure arrived to divert the tense situation.
“Hey!”
It was Princess Lamia. From afar, she spotted Karia and shouted at the top of her lungs, shaking the mansion with her voice.
Karia glowered at the girl, while Lamia, with a voice far louder than her small body should allow, launched a scathing barrage of words.
“Are you out of your mind?! Who do you think you are, locking up Grandmother? What did she do wrong? Let her out at once! And kneel and apologize!”
“Ah, Princess! You mustn’t act like this!”
A middle-aged maid, long familiar with the Dowager Lady’s authority, rushed to restrain the excited princess. She was the children’s nanny, who had instilled in them a negative perception of Karia.
“I apologize, Duchess! The Princess is just upset because her grandmother is in danger. She cares so much for her… Please understand.”
“Why are you bowing, nanny?! It’s all your fault! Give me back my grandmother!”
Bound by her servant role, she could not confront Karia directly. Instead, she would bow and appear submissive, yet whisper complaints when turning away.
She would say things like: the Duchess isn’t the children’s real mother, so disliking them is natural; or that Karia, as an illegitimate child, would be corrupted if the children got close—essentially keeping her distance while appearing polite.
Even now, pretending to cower before Karia, she appealed to the Princess’s sympathy. Young Lamia thought Karia had harmed the nanny and lost her temper.
Karia observed silently and finally spoke when the child calmed a little.
“So, you were the Princess’s nanny?”
“Yes, yes, Duchess.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, she raised her hand and slapped the nanny’s cheek. The sharp smack sent the nanny sprawling to the floor.
“Ouch! Ouch!”
“Ah! Nanny, are you okay?!”
“Why would the Princess act out like this? The Duke’s household doesn’t pay you to be a temper breaker, does it?”
The nanny, face red from the slap, wailed as Lamia went wild, clutching her skirt and punching the air. Dust flew everywhere from her attempts to strike.
Karia, finding the girl’s effort laughable, pushed Lamia’s forehead with her palm, and the short-armed child flailed uselessly in midair.
“Why hit?! Who do you think you are hitting the nanny?!”
“You know perfectly well. I am the Duchess of Pandeon and the mistress of this house. What’s wrong with a superior teaching an inferior?”
“Teaching doesn’t mean hitting! Is the nanny a beast? You can just speak!”
Lamia shouted so loudly the corridor echoed. Seeing the child’s flushed, defiant face, Karia wiped the amusement from her expression and withdrew her hand. The girl, bracing against her, naturally lost balance and fell.
“Amazing that you know. Now, go tell your grandmother exactly what you just said.”
“Hey!”
“Do not shout. My ears are ringing.”
Karia looked coldly at the girl sitting on the floor. The thick carpet cushioned her fall, but Lamia’s large eyes were brimming with tears.
“Close that reckless, talkative mouth and think, Lamia. Do you think flailing about helps solve the situation?”
Being young does not always excuse misbehavior. This seven-year-old already had a fierce, almost demonic look.
Moreover, this little brat deserved no affection in return. Karia, having resolved to separate from the Duke, would no longer cater to anyone in the household.
“The Dowager Lady is reflecting on her grave mistake of daring to lay hands on royalty. She will be released after she has sufficiently repented. Do not worry.”
“Who laid hands on whom?”
At that moment, a deep, slightly angry voice interrupted. It did not come from Lamia.
Heavy footsteps approached. The low, commanding voice was familiar, and Karia immediately recognized the owner.
She slowly turned toward the sound and found a tall, robust man standing just behind her.
“I believe I just heard something absurd. Who dared strike whom?”
“-Alcard.”
His pale skin was sun-kissed, but his short blonde hair confirmed his identity. Why had he, who had never visited before, shown up now?
“Ha, just because you’ve grown older, you come without saying a word… Planning to compete?”
Alcard Lutbert—the Duke’s second son, Captain of the Royal Knights, and her half-brother.
‘What are you doing here?’
This had probably happened when Karia was about seven, soon after entering the Duke’s household.
Alcard had finished training alone in the garden and, hearing clattering from the kitchen, came to investigate—and found Karia.
The tiny, emaciated girl was eating bread long since hardened in the dark corner.
