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The next day.
In the carriage, Mildred’s nagging continued.
> “My lady! You should rest a few more days!”
> “I told you, I’m fine. Other than a simple bruise, there’s nothing wrong.”
There wasn’t a single bruise left on Marie, who wore a navy dress with a matching bonnet.
However, Mildred—now wearing new glasses—was more sensitive than usual.
> “It’s obviously Baron Beret’s doing, but there’s no proof? What if he tries something like this again?”
> “No way. He wouldn’t dare. There’s an elite knight guarding me now.”
By Calix’s orders, a knight from House Bloodstone was assigned to escort Marie.
With someone besides Dwayne who could wield a sword properly, she felt much more secure.
> “Still, to attack you before even six months had passed… Shouldn’t we do something about him?”
> “Calix is investigating who’s behind it. For now, we should focus on the interior design. By the way, was that all that was left?”
Marianne asked, recalling the clothes Mildred had brought.
With an awkward expression, Mildred replied:
> “Yes, Lady Marianne. The items sent from Viscount Brian’s household had already been given away to the poor by Father Thomas. It seems there was a scramble over them.”
> “Oh dear…”
> “All that was left were a few torn clothes.”
What Mildred brought were three sets of children’s clothes.
They were indeed Sean’s clothes.
But they were so tattered—full of holes—that it was impossible to bring them to Viscountess Brian.
> “Lady Marianne, what will you do now? The dead child’s clothes are all torn to shreds…”
> “…I’ll think about that later. For now, let’s proceed with the interior design as planned.”
Neighhh—
> “My lady, we’ve arrived.”
The newly assigned knight opened the carriage door.
> “Thank you.”
Marie and Mildred stepped down.
After about thirty minutes’ ride, they had arrived at a small house on the outskirts of the capital.
The knight instructed Dwayne to pull the carriage aside.
> “Yes…”
Dwayne obediently moved the carriage as directed.
Knock knock.
Mildred knocked on the door.
But even after a long wait, no one seemed inclined to answer.
> “My lady, there’s no response.”
> “Hmm… try knocking again.”
> “Yes.”
Knock knock knock.
Mildred kept knocking persistently.
> “Miss Tama, are you there?”
Knock. Knock. Knock knock knock.
Finally, after a while, an old woman’s voice came from inside.
> “Goodness, who’s making such a racket?!”
> “Ah, there is someone here. Excuse me, may we have a word?”
> “No! I’m busy. Go somewhere else!”
The old woman refused without even showing her face.
Flustered, Mildred spoke again:
> “Are you the alchemist Tama? The daughter of the Whitehouse Count wishes to see you.”
> “The count’s daughter? Why would a noble lady be looking for me?”
The old woman growled from behind the door.
It seemed she didn’t even want the trouble of opening it.
But Mildred didn’t back down.
> “Come now, just open the door. My lady has something important to say.”
> “Hmph, I’m busy enough as it is!”
With a scowl, the old woman yanked the door open.
She was a tiny grandmother wearing glasses—so small she could be mistaken for a halfling.
Tama, dressed in plain black with a white apron, looked like a witch.
Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, and her abundant white hair was braided into two long plaits—quite a distinctive appearance.
> “What is it?”
> “Hello, I’m Marianne Whitehouse. I’ve come to request your services.”
> “A request? Come in, then.”
Realizing it was about paid work, Tama ushered them inside.
—
As they walked down the hallway, Mildred clicked her tongue in disbelief.
> “Phew, this is a mess…”
Indeed, both sides of the hallway were stacked high with clutter.
The rooms they passed were just as chaotic.
Even the laboratory, filled with various reagents, had no space to stand.
> “Ugh, this is in the way!”
The old woman kicked a pot that was in the hall.
Bang—clatter clatter clatter.
It rolled away noisily.
> “Bit messy, isn’t it? Hope you understand—no one ever comes here.”
> “Excuse me, could you speak a little more politely?”
> “Ah, sorry, but this is just how I am. If you don’t like my casual speech, you can leave. Or kill me.”
> “That’s enough, Mildred. Leave it.”
> “Ah, the noble lady is so generous. Much obliged.”
They entered what must once have been the sitting room.
> “Alright, so what do you need help with?”
Tama dropped herself onto the sofa.
Behind it, a wide table was covered in various reagents and materials.
The workspace and living space aren’t separated at all, Marie thought.
On the opposite sofa, heaps of half-cut clothing scraps were piled up.
> “My lady, wait a moment.”
Mildred cleared a spot for Marie to sit, her brows furrowed in disapproval.
> “To have to bring you to such a filthy place…”
She glared at Tama, but the old woman was indifferent.
> “Heh, my home’s always like this. That’s why I don’t like visitors.”
> “I see. I understand.”
Marianne nodded graciously.
Tama, seeing she wasn’t being scolded, kept speaking in her casual tone.
> “Honestly, I’m sick of tidying. No matter how much I clean, it never gets better. Even when I try to do research, the mess is so bad I can’t find anything.”
> “….”
> “A few years ago I still tried, but now I’ve given up. No matter how much I clean, it ends up like this again.”
She scratched her head with an awkward smile.
It seemed she’d given up cleaning, though the mess still stressed her.
Mildred shook her head in disbelief.
> “Then stop making a mess and clean! Look—you’ve even cut up clothes for no reason. What are you doing, like a child?”
She pointed at the piles of fabric scraps.
> “Ah, those? That’s my hobby. Sewing the scraps together.”
> “What kind of grown woman plays with clothes like that?”
Mildred clicked her tongue.
> “No, these are clothes my daughter wore when she was little. This was my grandchild’s first birthday outfit. And these were my late husband’s trousers.”
Each scrap, it seemed, carried its own memories.
Marie noticed they were sorted by color and pattern.
> “Ah… I see. You’re preserving memories in each piece of fabric.”
> “Exactly! You get it, noble lady!”
Mildred tilted her head, still puzzled, but Marie understood.
Stitching fabric scraps into quilts or small padded items is called quilting.
Though the term didn’t exist in Reongrad, that was clearly Tama’s hobby.
> “I’ll put them all together into a big blanket. Then, when I sleep, it’ll feel like my family is still with me.”
> “Do you live alone, Miss Tama?”
> “Of course. Husband’s dead, children have gone. Who’d welcome a smelly old woman like me?”
> “I see.”
Marie sat down and got straight to the point.
> “Miss Tama, I came today to ask for your help developing a reagent.”
> “Reagent? What kind?”
> “Something that can be applied to an object to make it glow. Can you make it?”
> “Sure, you just mix a few things together.”
> “How long will it take?”
> “Hmm… not long, but…”
> “…Is there a problem?”
> “Well, you see…”
Tama pursed her lips, her wrinkled forehead creasing further.
—
A few days later.
Josh entered Calix’s office and reported:
> “As you ordered, we’ve put surveillance on Nathan Beret. But the man who fled hasn’t been found. No one knows the dead man’s identity, either.”
> “I see. And no one else bears a grudge against House Whitehouse?”
> “No. It may just have been a simple robbery for ransom.”
> “…Keep investigating.”
Calix turned his gaze back to his papers.
But Josh lingered instead of leaving.
> “…By the way, today’s the day they finish the Brian household’s interior work.”
> “Today? It’s late in the day.”
> “Yes. I don’t know why, but they decided to reveal it this evening.”
> “I see.”
Calix stared into space for a moment, then returned to his documents.
> “But… Viscount Brian is annoying. Or rather, perhaps it’s the viscountess who’s annoying.”
> “What do you mean?”
> “Well, I found out she only asked for one room to be redecorated.”
> “…Is that a problem?”
> “Not strange in itself… but before, Viscount Brian said they’d remodel the whole mansion.”
> “…So she might have some ulterior motive.”
> “Possibly. Maybe she told Lady Whitehouse to do just one room in order to embarrass her.”
> “…!”
Calix lifted his head sharply.
When he’d tested Marie’s skills, he hadn’t given her the whole cliffside castle either—only a small part, just to gauge her ability.
Could the viscountess have the same idea?
Calix’s brow furrowed.
> “What sort of person is the viscountess?”
“I’m not sure. She doesn’t have a
bad reputation, though.”
Marie’s single appearance at a ball wasn’t enough to win high society’s favor.
Calix had invited the Brians on purpose, hoping to give her a chance to earn a good reputation with her first project.
> “….”
Tap.
Calix set down his pen and stood.
> “…Let’s go to the Brian household.”
