Chapter 9
The top academic institution of the Amanta Empire: Rev Academy.
To speak of Rev Academy—it was, without a doubt, the pride and history of Amanta.
It was said to be personally planned and established by the founding emperor himself upon the founding of the nation.
“The one who has not graduated from Rev Academy shall never leave a name in the Empire’s history”—that very place, with such a proud slogan!
“Finally, tomorrow, the young master will return.”
During the morning roll call before the servants started their daily duties, Hugo stood on a low platform and announced the news.
His usually stern expression softened slightly upon spotting me, but in a blink, it returned to normal.
“Ahem, now, remain alert and prepare thoroughly at your respective positions.”
“Yes, sir!”
The moment Hugo’s address ended, the servants scattered busily.
Just like they had been doing lately—tense and full of nervous energy.
It seemed excessive, considering the master returning was only eleven years old. But thinking of it as the future head of the household returning to a workplace where the current head already resides—it made perfect sense.
Well, long-term employment security is important. Let’s go, life!
While I was watching them with sympathy, Hugo approached me.
“You’re up early again, miss.”
“Mm-hm. I tried to sleep in, but it turns out waking up late is even harder.”
I had tried sleeping in for the sake of Wolfgang, who always nagged about my height, but I failed gloriously.
Whether it was the original me shaped by part-time jobs or Asha who had lived in a temple—both were too used to being busy to ever sleep in.
“Oh, it’s 9 o’clock. I’ll be off now!”
I waved to Hugo after checking the clock and dashed toward the second floor, to the master’s bedroom.
It had been about three weeks since I started staying in the Bastion mansion in a half-servant, half-not kind of role.
If someone asked whether I’d made any progress on my original goal in that time—
“I have… but I don’t know where.”
Yes, it definitely exists. But I can’t find where.
Muttering complaints under my breath, I groaned as I opened the most lavish and heavy door in the hallway.
After clearing my throat in the glittering antechamber, I strode confidently into the bedroom.
From this point, you need momentum—charge toward the bed! And dive!
“Rise and shine!”
“……”
“Wake up, my picky eater father-in-law candidate! Your darling Asha is here!”
I landed squarely on top of Wolfgang and rolled around as I shouted.
He scrunched his face and buried it in the pillow, but such resistance was futile.
I rolled closer and whispered softly but clearly into his ear.
“If you don’t get up, you’ll have to drink Mr. Sanche’s special broccoli soup.”
Down to the very last drop. All of it.
Wolfgang sprang up with me still clinging to his back.
He really must hate that soup. I personally find it tasty.
Sliding off his back like a squirrel from a tree, I latched onto his arm as he staggered.
Because of our massive height difference, it looked more like I was dangling from him than supporting him—but still, I called it support.
Honestly, even I questioned whether this was necessary. But I did it every day anyway.
If I didn’t, Wolfgang’s mood would plummet into the basement like a broken elevator.
Groggy and slow, slower than a slug, we trudged to the antechamber and headed straight for the bathroom.
“Splash cold water on your face. And don’t fall asleep in the tub again.”
Nagging as usual, I opened the bathroom door and pushed him in.
Next was setting out his clothes.
Opening the second door on the right of the antechamber revealed a dazzling dressing room.
When I first saw it, I’d scoffed that you could spend a whole day just searching for clothes. But now, I navigated it like a pro.
Shirts were this way, pants that way. And that drawer? Underwear—strictly off-limits. I had some standards.
I laid out a safe combination: a white shirt and black pants. Then damp Wolfgang returned.
Time to observe propriety again—I stepped out to give him privacy.
Sometimes I wondered if I could let it slide, since he was only nine years old. But the 22-year-old woman inside me waved a red card every time.
Click.
This time, Wolfgang came out immediately instead of dozing off on the sofa like before. I clapped in praise.
“You look amazing as always, picky eater father-in-law candidate!”
“…Can you stop calling me that, you squat little daughter-in-law candidate?”
A strange electric current buzzed between us.
The annoying title exchange had escalated exactly six days ago when he first called me a “squat little daughter-in-law candidate.”
In retaliation, I’d snapped back:
“Well, you’re an immature picky eater father-in-law candidate!”
After sharing a few meals, I had learned that Wolfgang avoided vegetables altogether.
Remember how I said he ate like a graceful jaguar that first day?
That wasn’t far off. He really was a carnivore, like a jaguar.
Wolfgang narrowed his eyes and asked with a smirk, like it was part of his daily routine.
“Breakfast.”
“I already ate. You go ahead, father-in-law candidate.”
“Eat again.”
“No way. I’m going to burst. Besides, I need to help Mr. Tony.”
“…Even the stables now.”
He muttered with a hollow voice, like his last stronghold had fallen.
I winked and threw finger hearts his way.
“Good luck today! I’ll bring a mountain of cookies for tea time!”
Wolfgang’s face brightened with joy.
You like that? I do too.
Chuckling, I escorted him to the dining room, then sprinted toward the stables.
Well, I tried to. If only that leg hadn’t blocked my way again.
Whoosh!
With the intention of tripping me for real this time, a leg shot out—but I spun like a ballerina and dodged it.
I finished with a graceful pose, and the owner of the leg trembled in frustration.
Still no progress, huh? Every day, the same ambush.
“Morning, Vivi. Your leg seems to have developed its own personality again.”
“Y-yeah! Unlike you, I have long legs!”
“Good for you. Even if they break, it won’t hurt, right?”
Vivi backed away, face pale from my joke.
Oh, come on. Don’t be so scared.
I laughed softly, and she flinched back another step.
It had been three weeks since I arrived at the Bastion mansion, and three weeks of dealing with Vivi’s petty antics.
Not that it was ever serious—just annoying enough to ignore.
Even if she tried to be sharp and catty, she was still just a kid.
Her harassment was simple—tripping, name-calling—and thankfully, she was too busy to keep it up often.
“Vivi! Take this to the laundry!”
A senior maid’s voice called from afar, and Vivi’s face lit up.
“Y-you’re lucky! Next time, you’re done for!”
“Sure, sure. Now go.”
I waved her off like a bug, and she huffed and stomped away.
Sighing, I hurried along my original path.
As I left the mansion and walked the garden shortcut, I looked around.
“Spring, huh.”
Late winter had passed. It wasn’t very cold anymore, and buds were just starting to sprout on the branches.
“Spring, spring, spring, spring~ Spring is here~”
I hummed as I walked, and soon the stable appeared.
At first, I thought it was a villa—it was huge and solid.
Apparently, Wolfgang and both his brothers loved horseback riding, so they spared no expense for horses.
This stable was nothing. The one in the territory was said to be even grander—I couldn’t even imagine it.
Tony, the stable master, opened the door as he saw me.
“Mr. Tony!”
“Asha, you’re here!”
Tony greeted me warmly, looking exhausted. He grabbed my hand and rushed me inside.
Wolfgang probably thought I was the one who approached Tony first, but this time, it was the opposite.
Tony had seen me playing with the wolves one day and had recruited me.
And the reason was the mare lying in the straw.
I quietly stepped into the stall and greeted her.
“Hi, Queensbury.”
Snort.
“That’s right, it’s me. How are you feeling today?”
The black mare, too exhausted to even acknowledge me, simply blinked slowly.
She looked absolutely pitiful.
Still struggling with labor pains, huh.
I gently patted Queensbury’s swollen belly with a sigh.
Mares are pregnant for 11 months.
Queensbury had gone through that long time and was now on the verge of giving birth.
“It’s hard, I know. But let’s drink some water, okay?”
I brought a long-spouted water bottle to her mouth.
After some resistance, Queensbury finally took a few sips, and Tony’s face lit up with relief.
Horses were one of the most sensitive animals, and Queensbury was said to be especially delicate.
As her due date neared, even Tony couldn’t approach her—but with my help, she could at least get minimal care.
After making Queensbury eat some sugar cubes, I started clearing out the dirty hay.
Tony took the heavy piles I pushed out and handed me fresh straw.
Like fluffing a bed, I carefully arranged it around her. From outside, Tony said,
“Tonight or by early morning, she’ll likely give birth.”
“Really?”
Looking back and forth between Tony and Queensbury, I made a decision I had already considered.
“Then I’ll sleep here tonight.”
“What?”
“Is that okay?”
“Well, if you do, I’d be grateful…”
Tony looked apologetic, but I smiled.
“In exchange, promise to praise me to the duke later. Deal?”
“Praise? I’ll talk about you until my tongue wears out.”
“Deal!”
Progress might be slow, but ever since Benjamin, I’d been recruiting allies well.
Aside from Vivi, I’d been getting along with all the servants and improving my reputation by helping out.
Oh, side note—Living Point No. 2: Sir Kyle from the knight order is really good-looking. Fifteen years old, I think? Still young, but he had potential.
His personality was curt, so we hadn’t talked much, but he had good manners. The maids would be weeping over him soon.
Sirs Josh and Bishop were also handsome contenders.
And then there was Sir Winston, who stirred strange feelings in a certain girl’s heart… The more I looked, the more he gave off silver fox vibes.
“Asha, you should get going now.”
“Already? Oh, wow, you’re right.”
Time had flown as I kept Tony company and comforted the struggling Queensbury.
“I’ll come back tonight. See you later, Queensbury!”
I waved to Tony, Queensbury, and the other horses as I rushed off.
There were only two roles I’d been formally assigned in the mansion:
Waking up Wolfgang, and attending his tea time.
I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the snack tray, and headed to the study—only to bump into Benjamin at the door.
“Where are you coming from?”
“The stable. Helping out with a pregnant mare.”
“I see.”
He stared at me for a moment. Though his eyes looked tired, his gaze sparkled.
As if asking for something silently, he waited. Finally, I spoke.
“…Why is being pregnant hard for a horse?”
“Why?”
“Because the foal won’t come out.”
As I left Benjamin, now laughing like a maniac, I entered the study with an icy expression.
Ugh, I want to lock the door behind me.
