🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 50
“Ha, isn’t she adorable!”
“In some ways, she resembles the lady so much it’s almost frightening.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s even cuter?”
Shagal muttered inwardly, You’re not even trying to hide it anymore.
No matter how he thought about it, there had been no decisive reason for Noah to fall so deeply, other than her wealth. And yet—look at him now, completely smitten.
Of course, Karia was beautiful, but Noah had seen countless women far more dazzling than her, and never once had he been reduced to such a fool over them. Was it really that?
Could she have cast some kind of spell?
Having once theorized, after what happened in the forest, that Karia might be descended from a sorcerer, Shagal found the suspicion entirely reasonable.
If it was true or not, he needed to test her somehow, but ever since she dropped a bomb on the Imperial Family and Noah busied himself foolishly cleaning up after her, he hadn’t had a chance.
It seemed that Shagal Desimone was the only one in this mansion suffocating in frustration.
“Truly—you’re truly not angry?”
“Kids are all like that at that age. My little brother was just like that once.”
At the careless mention of his younger brother, both Noah and Shagal froze. Noah immediately regretted letting the words slip.
It wasn’t that he was trying to forget the child. It was just that remembering brought a sharp ache to his chest, and so by unspoken agreement, they avoided the subject.
It had already been seven years since his younger brother passed away. And yet Noah still remembered the boy’s face, his voice, his scent—he hadn’t forgotten a single thing.
“Brother! Brother! Let’s play!”
Their mother had died less than a year after giving birth to the boy. And their father was never one to dote on his children.
In a palace where no one cared for them, Noah, much older, had been his little brother’s only protector.
Despite the harsh circumstances, the boy grew up remarkably bright. He would always smile like sunshine when Noah came to him, no matter how quiet or withdrawn he was otherwise.
Whenever Noah saw that beloved face, he wanted to stay with him forever. But he couldn’t—and that guilt never left him.
“All right, let’s play, my little one. What do you want to play today?”
“Guess what, guess what! I’m the emperor!”
“Oh, the emperor? Your Majesty, forgive this servant for failing to recognize you. Please pardon my insolence.”
So whenever they were together, Noah would play with all his heart. He would exaggerate his acting on purpose, making the boy clutch his stomach and collapse in laughter.
Even when the games seemed dangerous to outsiders, Noah never said “no.” At most, the loyal knights who had sworn to him would chase away attendants influenced by the empress.
“Hehe, I’m going to ride a horse, hold a sword, fight battles, and build a nation!”
“Oh? So you’re a conquering king. Impressive! Then what role should I play? Your right-hand man, fighting by your side?”
“Hmm… no!”
The boy would cover his mouth mischievously and giggle. That was always his face when he was planning some mischief.
At times, he would say things too mature for his age, words Noah couldn’t imagine where he’d learned. But Noah never disliked being with him—not once.
“You’re just a subordinate of the right-hand man! A lowly soldier! But when the other soldiers die in battle, you’ll finally become the top one!”
When the boy said that, Noah would puff out his cheeks indignantly and protest, “What—?!” Then he’d tickle the boy’s sides in revenge until the child shrieked with laughter and launched a counterattack.
“If he had lived, he would have grown into a fine young man. Maybe even that strict young master would’ve called him ‘brother’ and looked up to him.”
“…Your Highness.”
“No matter how I think about it, the lady truly is generous. As for me, I could never endure seeing my enemy alive and breathing before me.”
Noah had lost his brother after their father’s death, while fleeing from his older brother’s pursuit. The boy was only five years old. What crime had such a little child committed?
Noah knew—even if his brother was foolish and cruel, he would never have gone so far as to murder a younger half-brother.
The one behind it all was that man. The crimson-haired man who had placed his brother on the throne and pulled the strings from the shadows.
“…Are you watching from heaven, Ruval?”
Noah whispered his brother’s nickname into the empty air.
If there was an afterlife, may his brother be born into a family full of love, the noblest of all, and may he achieve whatever he desired—whether to be emperor or anything else.
May the world itself be placed into his small hands.
On the wind, Noah thought he heard his brother’s voice calling, “Noah.”
“At last, it looks like a home where people actually live.”
Having finished his business in the province early, Count Lowell arrived at the townhouse around breakfast. He had received a message asking him to stop by, and he was also curious how the place had been transformed under Karia’s tastes.
In his hand was a heavy rattan basket filled with strawberries grown in the greenhouse on his estate.
Will she like these too?
From a few teatimes together, he had learned that Karia liked fruit. She never touched cakes or pastries, only nibbling occasionally at fruit. She was as slender as she was small-eating.
Since she spent money lavishly, the townhouse surely lacked for nothing. But in early winter, strawberries were hard to come by. That was why he had brought them—though the thought of handing them over directly embarrassed him.
With the calloused hands of a man who had long wielded a sword, the count fiddled nervously with the basket’s handle. Clearing his throat, he tried to rehearse what to say, picturing Karia’s ever-indifferent face.
“Hrmm! The capital doesn’t have these yet, does it? These winter strawberries are delicious.”
No—that sounded too curt. If it were Karia, she might flare up and buy up all the strawberries in the empire on the spot.
“Hmph! It’s not like I brought these for you! I just wanted to boast about my greenhouse!”
No, no! That was something a nouveau riche would say. If it were her, she’d furrow her brows and immediately purchase land and build her own greenhouse. This was a woman ready to drop a million gold to buy a building, after all!
“…I picked them up on the way here. Hm. Maybe that’s best?”
Surely she wouldn’t actually think he meant strawberries lying on the road? The servants had carefully chosen only the largest, prettiest berries, packing them gently so they wouldn’t bruise. Surely not…
Still uneasy, the count opened the basket again to check. Since he had driven the carriage straight to the townhouse without stopping anywhere else, the fist-sized strawberries were still plump, their bright red flesh and fresh green caps intact.
“…What’s that?”
Basket prepared, the count finally stepped down from the carriage to head inside. But as he walked through the garden, he spotted something strange. A round, white lump lay among the well-tended shrubs.
At first he dismissed it as a rock, but then realized—the gardeners tended the grounds daily. There could be no such odd stone there. Stepping back, he peered closer, and saw the white shape slowly rising and falling.
“…Legs?”
On closer inspection, the white mass was the frilly skirts of a dress puffed out over a small backside, with dainty little feet poking out below. The count reached into the bushes and pulled out the thing masquerading as a rock.
It wriggled like a fish hauled from water, then revealed itself—an adorable little girl, doll-like in her looks.
“Child, who are you?”
“Me? I’m Alice.”
“…Blonde?”
At first, he thought she might be a servant’s child. But her clothes were far too fine. And blonde hair? In Castaros, such hair only appeared if royal blood was mixed in.
Why, then, was such a child playing hide-and-seek alone in this townhouse?
“Child, what’s your mother’s name?”
“Mother?”
“Yes, your mama. The woman who gave birth to you.”
“Mama? Mama is just Mama.”
Alice answered as if wondering why he’d ask something so obvious, and the count pressed his aching forehead. It had been far too long since he’d spoken with a five-year-old—he couldn’t even judge her level of understanding.
“Then let me ask differently. Why were you hiding in the garden in your nightclothes?”
“Well, that’s because…”
“Because?”
“I’m supposed to go crunch-crunch, but the black sisters keep bothering me. They always touch and fuss over me. Then they wrap me up with ribbons like a present. But Alice isn’t for gifting, so I didn’t like it. That’s why I ran away. I’m going to crunch-crunch anyway.”
When Alice asked, “You get it?” the count wanted to shout, “Get it?! Not at all!”
Black sisters? Wrapping? Gifts? Slave trading had been outlawed for centuries—was there some underground trafficking happening?
No—judging by that utterly guileless expression, that couldn’t be it. Sighing deeply, he knelt to meet her eye to eye.
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Why don’t you start by explaining what this ‘crunch-crunch’ is?”
“Crunch-crunch is crunch-crunch. Like this—chomp chomp chomp!”
“…You mean eating?”
Watching Alice clasp her hands around empty air, bobbing her head vigorously as if devouring something, the count stroked his chin in thought.
So—she ate meals here after waking. That meant she was treated at least like a guest. If she’d gone missing, surely her caretakers were frantic.
He watched her pretend to eat, even drooling, then quietly reached into the basket.
“Want to crunch one of these?”
He placed a strawberry in Alice’s hand. She sniffed the bright red fruit curiously, then bit in without hesitation. With a crisp snap, sweet-tart juice spilled forth, making her eyes go wide and sparkle.
