Chapter 41
Listening to Lucien’s life philosophy, Cecil thought,
Even with a twenty-year gap between now and before my regression, he’s exactly the same person.
Before her regression, he had also been a hedonist and had run an information guild.
At that time, he said he had no interest in good or evil, law or chaos — the only thing he wanted was requests that were interesting.
“And the more dangerous the journey to get there, the more thrilling it becomes.”
Lucien continued with a pleased tone.
“I’ll accept your request, Carmen. It’s been a while since I’ve had such an intriguing case. But it will be quite expensive.”
“The cost doesn’t matter.”
Cecil took something out from her bosom — a blank check.
Lucien’s eyes curved into crescent moons at the sight.
“Ah, it’s a delight to meet a client I can truly communicate with. Why, it feels almost like… meeting the lost half of my soul.”
He seemed genuinely taken with her, but Cecil found him distasteful.
Partly it was because his flirting was burdensome, but the bigger reason was their bitter history before her regression.
Back then, she was a wicked black mage who had committed countless atrocities and lived as a fugitive.
Almost no guilds would take her requests — Lucien’s was one of the few exceptions.
As a neutral hedonist, he didn’t care if the client was a wanted criminal who had committed innumerable crimes, as long as the job was interesting.
Cecil had commissioned him to find the location of a certain artifact — one that would enhance Nibelung’s power and grant the owner eternal life.
Back then, I trusted no one, so once I had the location, I intended to retrieve it myself.
But when she went to the place Lucien indicated, she was met with an unexpected ordeal.
There she encountered layer upon layer of ancient curses and traps.
Lucien’s information had not been wrong. The artifact was indeed there.
He had simply, and deliberately, omitted the information about the traps.
Normally, I could have handled it, but I was already badly injured and in poor condition, so the curses and traps nearly killed me.
Cecil recalled the past with detachment.
It’s not like I bore a grudge over it. I was such a dreadful person then that even a neutral hedonist like Lucien might have tried to stop me from gaining immortality.
Her red eyes gleamed sharply.
But… the fact remains that he managed to deceive me — a master of lies. And a man who moves on whims and amusement rather than profit or justice is hard to predict. That alone makes him someone I have to stay wary of.
Lucien was certainly someone worth using, but his cunning made it equally likely that she could be used in return.
Cecil resolved firmly.
I’ll hire him, but I won’t let him see a single opening.
“Here you go, young lady. Today’s breakfast.”
Cecil covered her mouth with her hand and gave a long yawn.
“Good morning, Anne…”
“You still look much too sleepy for it to be a good morning.”
Anne smiled fondly as she set down the tray.
Today’s breakfast was a croissant, soup, salad, and a large, bright-red apple.
Not a morning person, Cecil preferred something light when she woke up.
She had just taken a spoonful of soup when she reached for the apple.
Crunch! Her front teeth sank deep into it, and sweet-and-tart juice flooded her mouth.
…That feels strange.
She pulled the apple away from her lips.
While Cecil was eating, Anne and the maids were tidying the bedding and chatting, but one maid happened to glance at her and gasped.
“Oh, young lady! Your tooth!”
Cecil blinked and looked at the apple.
On its red surface, a tiny front tooth was stuck fast.
It seemed Anne and the maids were far more excited about Cecil’s first lost tooth than she was.
“Our young lady is finally losing her baby teeth! I’m so proud!”
“Just look at this baby tooth! How can it be so small and cute?”
“Oh my, even with a front tooth missing, you’re still absolutely adorable!”
But Cecil couldn’t fathom their enthusiasm.
What’s the big deal about losing one baby tooth?
[Don’t be so dismissive. Losing teeth is a sign a child is growing. The maids raising you can’t help feeling sentimental.]
Still, the people in the duke’s household are always so dramatic. It’s a bit much sometimes.
She humored the maids by showing them the gap in her teeth a few times.
After they had admired it enough, one of them exclaimed,
“Nanny, we have to make a Will-o’-the-Wisp lantern for the young lady!”
In the Empire, when a child lost their first tooth, they would make a paper lantern, place the tooth inside, and send it floating down the river at dusk.
The belief was that the glowing lantern would light the way home for the water spirits, who in return would gift the child with strong new teeth.
What nonsense. A paper lantern on a river? It would sink the moment it got wet.
[Have you ever made one before, Cecil?]
No. Back when I lived in the imperial palace before my regression, I didn’t even know such a tradition existed. I only learned about it much later, from a book.
Anne, apparently pleased with the idea, nodded.
“Yes, good idea. Nancy, would you fetch the materials from the storeroom?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Nancy shot to her feet and left the room.
Though she had just criticized the tradition, Cecil quickly stood as well when she sensed the maids about to start poking at her cheeks again.
“I’ll go with Nancy!”
The storeroom was huge, piled high with all manner of objects.
“Let’s see… for the lantern we’ll need paper, scissors, glue, candles, and…”
While Nancy searched, Cecil’s eyes roamed over the contents.
Among the old furniture and picture frames, she spotted something unexpected — a pair of baby shoes.
They were smaller than her palm and in perfect, unused condition. She placed them in her hand and stared.
These must have been for the Duke of Bartholomew’s son.
She thought of the child who had never been born, and of the duke himself.
When he put these shoes away here… what must he have felt?
Cecil, who had once lost her own life, couldn’t even imagine the pain of losing two loved ones at once.
She bit her lip.
The Duke of Bartholomew was her long-time nemesis, the man who had betrayed her… yet she couldn’t help but pity him.
“Cecil.”
The sudden voice startled her. She turned to see the very man she had been thinking of — the duke.
“My lord, I…”
She trailed off, but the duke’s gaze fell on the shoes in her hand and her sorrowful expression, and he seemed to understand.
“So they were here.”
With a calm face, he took the baby shoes from her.
“Thank you for finding them, Cecil.”
Though seeing them must have hurt him more than anyone, he showed her no anger.
Cecil felt both grateful and oddly sorry for that.
The duke extended his hand; she took it, and they left the storeroom together.
On the way out, Cecil — who had stayed silent in her tangled thoughts — asked,
“What brings you to the storeroom, my lord? Were you looking for me?”
“Yes.”
His face was as unreadable as ever.
“I heard you lost a tooth. Is it true?”
