Chapter 20
In the end, holding a picnic basket that included freshly baked campagne bread spread with blueberry jam, I came down to the seaside.
Unlike the Duke’s mansion, which sat inland, the villa was built along the coast.
The mansion stood perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, and if you went a little downhill, a pebble-strewn path along the shore stretched out.
Today, the crisp, breezy spring weather was absolutely perfect for a picnic.
The waves were unusually calm.
Above the brilliant blue sky, the clouds floated lazily, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.
The blueberry-jam-covered campagne wasn’t quite the same as the one sold at that bakery back then, but still—it melted sweetly on my tongue.
“Picnics really aren’t anything special, are they?”
If Ian, sitting cross-legged on the mat I spread out, hadn’t been pouting and grumbling, it might have felt even more peaceful.
I blinked as I sliced a pound cake for him.
“Really? I think it’s wonderful.”
Ian snapped his head toward me, one eyebrow arched.
“Why?”
“Well, how often does a mere lowly servant like me get to enjoy something like this while on duty? For me, it’s truly such a joy.”
And that was the truth.
Even if the Brighton household treated its servants far better than most, there was no way they’d permit skipping work to this degree.
At a normal noble’s picnic, servants would only stand nearby, waiting to attend to their masters.
Sitting side by side with one’s young master, eating sandwiches together? Unthinkable.
“I’ve slathered marmalade generously on this baguette. Would you like to try some?”
“Something that sweet? You eat it. It’ll rot your teeth.”
“My, to give up such delicious food for me? Young Master’s kindness shines brighter every day!”
By now, I’d grown used to brushing off his scoldings with a laugh.
With marmalade-smeared bread in my mouth and a happy expression, I caught Ian staring at me with a curious face.
“Where does that optimism of yours come from?”
“It’s a gift from my satisfying present and this blessed situation I find myself in.”
“Hmph.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed.
“You’ve been forced to serve the cursed young master that everyone avoids, and then practically banished from the mansion because of him—and yet you still talk like that?”
“I don’t see being at the villa as a bad thing. Look—how often do you get the chance to enjoy such a serene moment by the sea?”
Ian Brighton still wore a disinterested expression.
But I didn’t mind. This wasn’t anything new.
I almost blurted that he wouldn’t understand since he could go wherever he wanted on a whim for outings or picnics—but quickly clamped my mouth shut.
‘That’s not true.’
Ian Brighton was practically under house arrest at the Duke’s mansion.
And even now, at the villa, the situation was nearly the same.
I’d heard from the steward that the Duke had strictly ordered: “Unless his personal servant accompanies him, Ian is not to leave the villa grounds.”
From the Duke’s perspective, it was only natural.
When Ian caught me drifting into such heavy thoughts mid-conversation, he tilted his head crookedly.
“He did try to isolate me from the outside world, but he never locked me down completely.”
As though reading my mind. I forced a slightly awkward smile.
“He probably thought if he restricted me too much, I’d cause trouble.”
Ian’s tone was calm, almost indifferent.
He said it like he was merely stating facts.
That made my heart twist strangely.
“Would you have caused trouble if he had?”
“Who knows?”
Ian grinned like a mischievous child, teeth showing.
“If I’d been too bored, or too angry, maybe I’d have lost control and made a ‘mistake.’”
I swallowed nervously.
“W-well, I’m glad you don’t seem bored right now.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Am I entertaining to you, Young Master?”
Instead of answering, Ian simply fixed his gaze on me.
His red eyes glimmered in the natural sunlight. It wasn’t my first time seeing it, but somehow it felt unfamiliar.
Perhaps because this was the first time I’d faced Ian Brighton outdoors, in such a wide-open, empty space.
“Rather than that…”
He ran his hand through his hair with an annoyed scowl.
“Shut up. Don’t ask weird questions.”
Was that really such a weird question?
“Then let me ask another—how do you feel about this picnic?”
“I can’t fathom why you’d get so excited preparing for something like this.”
“Hehe. I’ll take that as meaning you liked it.”
Ian Brighton lowered his gaze and stayed silent.
As I poured fresh milk and tea into his cup and dropped in sugar cubes, I found myself curious at his unusual quiet. I looked up—only for Ian to abruptly ask:
“What does it mean, for time with someone to become precious?”
That, I did not expect.
Never in my life did I imagine Ian Brighton asking something like that.
I carefully pushed the teacup toward him, scrambling for the right words.
It had to be a good answer.
This was the clearest sign yet that my Project: Cultivating Ian Brighton’s Humanity was bearing fruit.
If I botched this chance, who knew what the future would hold?
“Well… if you think, ‘I don’t want this moment to end,’ or, ‘If I could relive this moment, I’d do anything to make it happen again,’ I’d say that’s what it means to cherish someone.”
Ian’s face turned subtly strange.
Was that too lofty? I quickly added:
“Of course, it doesn’t always have to be that grand. Even if you just find the moment fun, or feel even a little bit of joy—that alone makes it precious, don’t you think?”
But no, his expression stayed as unreadable as ever.
And when he turned his gaze away, staring at the rolling seawater with wide eyes, I began to worry I hadn’t explained enough.
It wasn’t like he had any particular interest in the ocean…
“I didn’t mess this up, did I…?”
I went stiff with tension.
I’d worked so hard for this. I had earned the title of Ian Brighton’s longest-serving personal servant.
And by now, I couldn’t deny the obvious—he favored me.
I wanted that bond to start paying off in the way I hoped.
“Then you.”
Finally, his voice broke the silence.
I froze, teacup spoon in hand, and snapped my head toward him.
“M-me?”
“You said that since time with me feels precious, that means you like me.”
“Ah…”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Ian’s frown cut into me.
Meeting his crimson eyes, I rubbed the tip of my nose sheepishly.
“If time could rewind, and you had to choose between going to Rosé Brighton or to me… could you still come to me then?”
It wasn’t a simple question.
Beneath his words, there was doubt: Would you really? Could you truly?
I realized that instantly, and laughed bitterly inside.
“Sorry, but I don’t even have a choice. If I leave you alone, the whole Duke’s mansion will go up in flames.”
If I wanted to keep my golden job, being Ian Brighton’s personal servant was the only path.
When I first came to the mansion, I hadn’t understood that—but now that I had clear goals, even if I could go back, I’d never hesitate again.
So the answer was simple.
“Yes.”
The word left my mouth without a trace of hesitation.
Ian looked utterly floored, like he’d taken a direct blow.
“…”
He couldn’t speak. Was my answer really that shocking?
“I told you—I’m your blind, loyal servant.”
I sipped my tea with a big smile.
“My time with you has truly been good. So I’ll be by your side as much as you want me to be, Young Master.”
Ian sat still like a statue for a long while.
Then, at last, he stirred.
And his first move was to seize my hand.
Ian Brighton stared hard at me, his face carrying some expression I couldn’t begin to name.
“Forever?”
“Huh?”
“If I said to stay by my side forever, would you?”
That would be a problem. I had my dream of owning my own home, after all.
“No, wait. He’s twelve. I don’t need to take it that seriously, do I?”
I’d never heard of a demon in any novel obsessing over one person forever.
And even if he did, his interest would surely fade sooner rather than later.
So, I decided to just placate him.
“Of course. If that’s what you wish, Young Master.”
At that, Ian Brighton’s eyes curved wide in a smile, as if finally satisfied.
“You said it. Forever.”
There’s no way a demon-possessed boy would remember this conversation years from now.
…Right?
