4

Dinner Time.

It was, as expected, incredibly awkward.

The characteristically long table of nobility. Yet, only two people occupied it.

Seated at opposite ends, each moved their knives and forks.

Ayla's spoon moved quickly, but not cheerfully. She simply scooped up stew and put it into her mouth repeatedly, as if eager to end the meal quickly.

In contrast, the Count's young lady merely picked at her food with her spoon.

"..."

Upon closer inspection, she carefully avoided the parts of the stew she didn't want to eat. Vegetables like diced carrots and broccoli never made it onto her spoon.

Instead, when she discovered a piece of beef—something I had surely bought today—her eyes sparkled.

"...Young Lady."

"Hyut!?"

When Ayla called out to her, the young lady flinched and her shoulders trembled.

"Eat your vegetables without leaving any behind."

"B-But…"

"If you keep avoiding the parts you dislike, you'll have nothing but bones left. Our situation isn't very good right now. We can't afford to live eating only what we like."

"...."

The young lady glanced at me.

I had no intention of intervening. While she was certainly within my expectations, I had no desire to further complicate their relationship without understanding its dynamics.

"B-But now, there's someone who can cook, isn't there!"

Oh.

I was slightly impressed.

This was the same young lady who had sniffled in front of me, laughed in relief because she now had someone to handle household chores, and politely greeted the housekeeper with almost excessive courtesy.

It seemed she was naturally unguarded, but perhaps it was just her youthful innocence taking precedence. After all, while her room was relatively tidy, she still didn't know how to do laundry and simply piled her clothes in a corner, re-wearing them repeatedly.

"I-I even cleaned properly!"

She exclaimed in a slightly shrill voice, striking the table with her spoon-wielding hand.

But it didn't make much noise. Her physical strength was clearly not extraordinary.

"...Young Lady."

Ayla continued in her cold voice.

"Do you know who that person really is?"

Slurp.

Ayla brought a spoonful of vegetable stew to her mouth. Her gaze remained fixed on her plate, never meeting the young lady's eyes.

The Count was blonde.

Perhaps, for Ayla, the young lady was a stark reminder of the fact that she had been 'sold.'

"T-That person is…"

The young lady stammered briefly, then straightened her back.

"Luna. Her name is Luna."

"Luna. Yes, I know her name."

Ayla said.

"But beyond that, do you know anything else about her?"

The young lady fell silent.

Naturally, a Count's maid would have a verified background.

They would either be commoners from within the estate or daughters brought from other noble households.

The fact that 'escape' was an option suggests that many were from other noble houses rather than local commoners.

So the young lady had no real reason to worry. Or rather, the idea that she should worry was likely hard to accept for her. She was still young. She likely didn't fully understand how noble society operated.

She was of an age to debut in social circles, yet I had never heard of her. I hadn't seen her even at the clandestine balls I'd snuck into. Perhaps her timing was relatively late compared to other children.

Given the Count's lack of attention to family matters, it wasn't entirely surprising.

"T-Then…"

The young lady pouted.

Her feet, slightly lifted from the high chair, swung back and forth childishly.

"Why doesn't Madam just drive Luna out?"

Seeing Ayla remain silent, the young lady grinned.

"Madam thinks the same way, doesn't she? You don't actually have much reason to distrust Luna, do you?"

"..."

Madam, huh.

While not exactly a stepmother, noble children would traditionally address whichever lady remained as 'Mother.'

Among nobles, the term 'Mother' often carried a literal, distant formality. Few used it with genuine affection. Many would behave politely and respectfully toward their 'Mother' while showing real familial warmth to their wet nurses.

In that sense, our Marquis family was somewhat unusual.

And so, the young lady's reaction was also slightly unique.

Choosing the term 'Madam' over 'Mother' suggested that she was deliberately refusing to acknowledge Ayla as her mother.

For her, 'Mother' must have been a particularly meaningful term.

"It's not that I don't drive her out—it's that I can't."

Ayla said.

When the young lady stared at her, Ayla finally met her gaze.

Then, she turned her attention toward me.

"What do you think when you see that posture?"

"..."

The young lady's gaze followed Ayla's to me.

"...Graceful and composed…"

"Young Lady. It reminds me of a knight's posture."

"...."

I lowered my eyes and said nothing.

"Every step, every movement—it's the appearance of someone who's been professionally trained."

"B-But if she was trained as a maid…"

"These aren't movements refined through maid training. Do you think I wouldn't know how the previous maids moved, Young Lady?"

At Ayla's words, the young lady was left speechless.

"Perhaps she can handle cleaning. Maybe she could be used like a watchdog to guard the house. Honestly, if it came to that, I'm not sure I could stop it."

Well, who knows?

I'd probably lose right now. I still retained memories of swordsmanship and could wield a blade decently, but if Ayla remembered even half of her skills from her prime, I wouldn't stand a chance.

Not that I have any reason to win.

Who knows how things will turn out in the future? It's always good to grow stronger. At least for now, I'll have to protect this mansion on my own.

"So, at the very least, I won't entrust her with the food."

"B-But…"

The young lady scrunched up her face, clearly unwilling to eat the vegetable stew.

"If what you're saying is true, Madam, what will you do if Luna takes control of the kitchen?"

Ayla paused for a moment.

"Then we'll simply stop eating."

Clink.

Ayla set her spoon down firmly and spoke decisively.

"Well then, Young Lady, I'll take my leave first. Once you finish your meal—"

Glance.

Ayla's eyes flicked toward me.

"Yes, I'm sure that Luna person will clean up."

Ayla said this before rising from her seat. She began to walk away but suddenly turned back to me, as if recalling something.

"Oh, right. Luna."

"Yes, Lady Ayla."

"Why did you say you wanted to work here?"

"To repay my debt to the Count."

"I heard that already."

The young lady chimed in, whining slightly.

"Yes, of course. That's probably how you introduced yourself. But Young Lady, among nobles, a 'debt' doesn't always carry a positive meaning. Revenge is also a debt, isn't it?"

Both pairs of eyes turned toward me.

I remained silent.

Narrowing her eyes at me, Ayla turned away and headed upstairs to her room.

At this rate, she's no different from the evil stepmother in fairy tales.

And yet, she still doesn't cross the line.

This behavior arises from being pushed to the brink, sharpened to the extreme.

Even so, she still prepares meals daily to feed the young lady.

"...Tch."

The young lady stirred her stew with a sulky expression. Vegetables still floated on the surface like wreckage from a shipwreck.

I slowly walked over to her.

"Luna?"

The young lady looked up at me. I met her eyes, smiled softly, and took a small, candy-like object wrapped in wax paper out of my apron pocket.

"Oh."

Recognizing it immediately, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Shh."

When I raised a finger to my lips, she mimicked the gesture.

"From tomorrow onward, I'll try to at least increase the amount of meat."

Ayla is human, after all.

Of course, she'd want to eat more delicious food.

In that case, increasing the amount of meat I purchase should suffice.

Temptation through food works on both children and adults alike.

As I watched the young lady accept the candy with sparkling eyes, I began formulating a plan in my head.

Swish.

"...Are you entering rooms without your master's permission now?"

When I drew back the curtains, Ayla squinted against the sunlight and spoke.

Her face was still buried in her blanket, eyes closed.

"So you've finally acknowledged me as your master, Lady Ayla."

At my words, Ayla narrowed her eyes in irritation and glared at me.

"And the Young Lady?"

"I let her sleep in a bit longer."

"Hmph."

Ayla sat up on the edge of the bed with a lazy expression.

"So, you're implying I'm an adult, huh…"

Her gaze drifted to the glass of water I'd placed on the nightstand.

"…"

She stared at the water bottle silently before standing up.

The sheer fabric of her negligee shimmered over her skin.

"Are you planning to keep standing there?"

Ayla asked.

"Is there anything you need—"

"Barbers, cooks, and tailors—those are professions with high assassination success rates."

She stared at me as she spoke.

"Leave while I'm still speaking nicely. Well, if your goal is simply to succeed in killing me, feel free to stay."

I couldn't see any weapons immediately within my line of sight. But I was sure one was hidden somewhere close.

Clearly, Ayla still believed I was an assassin.

I bowed my head quietly and decided to wait outside.