~Chapter 35~
He was a charming young man with fine wheat-colored hair and soft teal eyes.
His modest and tidy attire, along with his glasses, added to his gentle and scholarly aura.
“Hello, Lady Cecil! I’ve heard a lot about you from His Grace the Duke,”
the man greeted with a warm smile.
“I’m Aymon Brochet. I’ll be in charge of your education from now on. I look forward to working with you.”
Here’s how she came to meet him.
Not long ago, the Duke suddenly suggested to Cecil that she receive private tutoring.
In truth, he had no obligation to provide her with education, as she was only a temporary guest.
Nevertheless, the Duke insisted that Cecil should receive age-appropriate schooling, and she reluctantly agreed.
The Duke’s efficiency was astounding.
Within a week, he had found a talented tutor and arranged for him to move in.
And so, Cecil could no longer avoid classes.
Aymon’s gentlemanly demeanor would’ve charmed just about anyone—
but Cecil had to work hard to hide her troubled expression.
‘Ah, seriously… This is going to be so exhausting.’
In reality, for a genius black mage like her, taking lessons meant for an eight-year-old was a joke.
She could probably finish her homework in her sleep.
The real hassle was making sure she didn’t reveal too much of her genius.
‘Showing my abilities and being labeled a prodigy is dangerous.
If I stand out too much, the perceptive Duke will grow suspicious.’
Cecil sighed inwardly.
‘But I can’t come across as dumb or lazy either.
To win the Duke’s favor, I have to appear diligent and engaged in class—just smart enough to be impressive for an eight-year-old, but not too smart.’
Becoming a model student just enough not to raise suspicions—
it was a delicate balancing act.
Regardless, she couldn’t let her inner thoughts show.
Cecil clasped her hands politely on her lap and gave a sweet smile.
“Hello, teacher! It’s nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to our lessons!”
“As expected, you’re truly an adorable young lady,”
Aymon said, fondly looking at Cecil, before turning to greet the Duke respectfully.
“I hope you attend your lessons faithfully, Cecil.”
“Yes! I’ll do my best, Your Grace!”
The Duke spoke in his usual curt tone and closed the door after hearing her reply.
“Please, have a seat, Lady Cecil. Since today is our first lesson, we’ll take it easy.”
“Yes!”
Cecil obediently sat where Aymon gestured.
It was only then that she realized something odd.
‘Wait… he said I’m cute as expected? Who told him that I’m cute?’
From what she recalled, the Duke had selected this tutor personally, without delegating the task.
Which meant… the person who told Aymon she was cute was—?
‘…No way. It can’t be. That doesn’t suit him at all.’
Cecil shook her head.
‘No matter what anyone says, I know the Duke well.
I’ve been his arch-nemesis for ten years. There’s no way he’d say something like that.
He probably heard it from one of the household staff.’
The first lesson was more like an orientation.
Cecil and Aymon got to know each other, and he explained what their future classes would look like.
“Don’t worry about my age—I may be young, but I’ve taught many children from noble families before.
The Chapman Earldom, the Langston Viscountcy, the Oakley Marquisate…”
Aymon’s résumé was quite impressive for someone his age.
It was clear the Duke had put significant effort into choosing a tutor for her.
“Lady Cecil, you’ll be studying reading, history, and arithmetic with me.
There will be five lessons per week, each two hours long.
Since I’ll be residing at the Duke’s mansion for the time being,
feel free to come to me with questions even outside class hours.
And here—this is a gift for you.”
Aymon presented her with several thick books.
“Thank you so much!”
When Cecil smiled as if delighted, Aymon’s face lit up with joy.
“I heard Lady Cecil is very clever and polite, and now I see it’s all true.
With such a wonderful student, I’m looking forward to our future lessons even more.”
“Me too, teacher!”
Cecil responded cheerfully—and sighed inwardly.
And so, Cecil began her lessons with Aymon.
As explained in the first session, she had five lessons a week, each lasting two hours, with additional homework.
Every class, Cecil had to work hard to appear intelligent for her age—
but not too intelligent.
If taught one concept, she’d demonstrate understanding of two or three—but never more than that.
“Alright, today we’re learning multiplication with three-digit numbers. Let’s try solving this one.”
She had to keep the line clear between what she actually knew and what an eight-year-old should know,
all while displaying enthusiasm and diligence in her studies.
“Today’s topic in history is the Justinian Wars caused by Constantine’s persecution of pagans.
We’ll learn how those wars influenced the Empire and the Church.”
She had to earn the Duke’s favor—without ever earning his suspicion.
“Today I’ve brought poems by Hawkins, J. B. Williams, and Winchester.
Let’s explore the beauty of Romantic poetry.”
In class, Cecil came off as a model student—interested in knightly literature and the history of the Church,
good at memorization, but struggling a little with arithmetic.
When she let her guard down, however, things like this would happen.
“And so, the sage Wainwright began a nonviolent resistance movement.
How is Wainwright viewed today?
If you’ve done your reading, this should be easy to answer.”
Without thinking, Cecil replied,
“He was a pretty decent guy.”
She had actually met Wainwright before her regression.
Even then, when she had been full of malice and rage, she’d found him admirable.
On a whim, she’d let him live.
A beat later, realizing what she’d just said, Cecil turned to Aymon in alarm.
“…?”
As expected, he looked utterly confused.
“I-I mean, I read his biography recently, and I really admire him!
He was such an inspiring figure!”
“Ah, I see~!”
Cecil hastily added, and Aymon’s expression relaxed again.
Aside from little incidents like that, the lessons went smoothly.
‘But still…’
Hiding behind the propped-up books, Cecil rolled her violet eyes.
‘Something’s off.’
At some point, Aymon had started acting suspiciously.
‘It’s like… he’s more interested in the Duke than in teaching me.’
During their lessons, Aymon frequently asked Cecil about the Duke’s whereabouts.
Outside of class, he’d wander around the mansion, poking into various places.
One day, during a history lesson—
“Today, let’s learn about the history of House Bartholomew.
You’re interested in the Duke’s family history, aren’t you, Lady Cecil?”
He began the session this way and then proceeded to ask Cecil very detailed questions about the Duke’s military activities.
“You’ve been at the Duke’s residence for a while, haven’t you?
So you must’ve heard of the group called the Irregulars, right?
They’re said to be closely tied to the Duke’s household.
A clever young lady like you must know something.”
Officially, the Duke denied all connection to the Irregulars—
especially since the group had been implicated in crimes, even against nobles.
Cecil realized that Aymon’s questioning was a form of guided interrogation.
He assumed that, since Cecil was eight and had lived in the mansion for some time,
she’d overheard something useful.
“Irregulars? I don’t really know. What’s that?”
Cecil blinked her wide eyes and lied effortlessly.
‘There’s no doubt. Aymon isn’t here to teach—he’s here as a spy.’
Behind her innocent little face, her thoughts were razor sharp.
‘I need to find out who Aymon is working for.’
