MILND 06

Chapter 6

At the elementary school tutoring center, I did all sorts of odd jobs—organizing school newsletters, checking homework apps, buying supplies on behalf of parents…

Among them were tasks that required sewing: stitching up kids’ clothes after they fell, embroidering names onto their indoor shoe bags.

For the record, the best sewer at our academy was the driver. I learned all my stitching from him.

Anyway, I was bored just staring at the fireplace, so I slipped a heated stone into a little patchwork pouch I had made for fun. It turned out to be quite a decent portable hand warmer.

The reason was nothing special.

As autumn passed, I overheard someone say their hands hurt from doing laundry in the cold. So I made the hand warmer just for fun.

After giving one away, everyone wanted one, and soon I had made twenty of them.

Though the stones cooled quickly, we took turns using them, and they became quite popular.

“…You have skillful hands,” the viscountess said.

“Doesn’t everyone do this much?” I replied.

“Well, embroidery is a refined art, but not everyone has such a kind heart.”

She rolled the hand warmer around in her hands, then took off her gloves to feel it with her bare skin. Closing her eyes, she seemed to savor its warmth.

“Did the dowager duchess choose this tea?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She glanced at the tea in her cup—a medicinal brew made from ginger and dried fruit.

In this world, ginger was an expensive medicinal herb. But we had enough stock in the annex to last decades, so we used it freely.

“The lady doesn’t like the cold, right?”

“……”

Just looking at the viscountess’s outfit, one could guess what the weather was like that day.

The western region was colder than the capital. It was still technically autumn, but the temperature was like early winter in the capital.

I hated the cold too, so I understood without her having to say it.

I noticed that even her socks, hidden inside her shoes, seemed thick with cotton padding.

‘If you’ve got poor circulation and you hate the cold… that must be miserable.’

While I couldn’t relate to her grief over losing a husband, I could certainly empathize with her discomfort from the cold.

The viscountess placed the hand warmer on her lap and picked up her teacup.

After sipping the ginger tea, she exhaled a warm breath.

“…I’ve spent decades teaching young ladies etiquette. How to hold a fan, which hand to leave free when walking with a man, what drinks are appropriate and what foods to avoid… that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I see.”

Why was she bringing this up all of a sudden over tea?

I thought she was going to continue her lessons, so her sudden reflection caught me off guard.

“But in all that time, I’ve come to realize that true education can’t be conveyed through words alone.”

“Ah…”

I think I understood what she meant.

As a teacher myself, there were many things I wanted to teach my students—but sometimes, when those lessons didn’t get through, the emptiness could be heavy.

“If you wear your shoes backwards, your ankles will hurt.”
“Don’t keep your smartphone in your pencil case.”
“Do you think I won’t notice if you hide your earphones under your hair?”

…Wait, now that I think about it, aren’t my worries kind of trivial compared to hers?

“People say I teach ladies how to behave, but truly, I wanted to teach them how to be noble. How to act and carry themselves as someone in a position of responsibility.”

She gently took my hand, smiling in a way I had never seen from her before.

Her wrinkled hands, warmed by the hand warmer, softly caressed mine.

“In that sense, Duchess Wilhelmina, you lack nothing. You possess the kind of heart I could never teach.”

“…You’re too kind.”

Was the hand warmer and ginger tea really that touching? Should I pack some up for her to take home?

“No, truly. Over the past three days, I’ve seen your good deeds.”

When?!

“I saw the expressions of your maids as they looked after you, the gazes of the pages who peeked at me through the door when I scolded you, and your constant consideration for others… You have the most important quality of a lady.”

It felt strange being praised as the perfect madam when I hadn’t even married yet.

Of course, I didn’t show it—I quietly lowered my eyes and listened.

“Therefore, your training is complete. Etiquette that comes from the heart will see you through any hardship.”

“Ah, yes…”

…Was she telling me to bring ginger tea to the celebration?

I still had no idea what was supposedly so impressive about me, but I nodded anyway.

* * *

Only about forty nobles were attending the Margrave’s celebratory banquet.

Considering the Margrave’s standing, it was shockingly small.

The Margrave of the western region came from a lineage as old and prestigious as any ducal family. They were a knightly house, respected by many warriors.

If the Laytons had the aura of noble elders, the Margrave was the image of a hardened warrior who rose through sheer swordsmanship.

So I couldn’t understand why the event was so modest—until Viscountess Rolland explained it to me.

“Officially, the West is still in mourning.”

She had stressed the word officially.

In other words, no one actually felt that way.

They were throwing a party but keeping it quiet so it wouldn’t cause gossip. Just trimming it down for appearances.

When I heard that, I clapped my hands in realization.

It hadn’t even been two months since the former duke died.

‘Thinking about it like that, holding a grand year-end party would be weird. He really must’ve been unpopular.’

I could understand the lower servants disliking the former duke.

How many subordinates truly like their boss? And if he was that vicious, they were probably just glad not to be spitting on his grave.

‘I only wore mourning clothes for a week, too. Normally, a wife here wears them for one or two years. Convenient for me, though…’

But I didn’t expect even the nobles—who must’ve lived off the duke’s wealth—to ignore the mourning period.

‘…Helene must’ve really endured a lot.’

The first person who came to mind was my daughter-in-law, Helene.

She must have suffered under a father-in-law who had five wives before.

Even I felt like I should be a model mother-in-law for her.

For the record, my idea of a “model” mother-in-law is someone who does absolutely nothing.

If the elder gets involved, things just get more exhausting. Better to stay quiet—dramas say so too.

“Madam.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

While lost in thought, Anna called out to me.

It was time for the banquet to begin.

Normally, a ducal family might make a grand entrance mid-event, but since this was to honor the Margrave, the duke’s household would be greeting guests from the start.

When we arrived at the hall, we ran into a man adjusting his clothes near the entrance.

‘The duke.’

The crowd of attendants, butlers, and knights around him made it obvious.

The man was young.

Even with his silvery platinum hair slicked back to reveal his wide forehead, he didn’t look old.

His sharp eyebrows and faintly upturned lips hinted at his personality, and his deep blue eyes—darker than Helene’s—were lively.

He looked more like the CEO of a startup than the head of an ancient noble family.

‘They say the Laytons branched off from the royal family long ago… you can tell just from the coloring.’

I slowly approached the man—Mikhail Phil Layton.

‘Come to think of it, this is our first official meeting, isn’t it?’

It was my first time attending a family event.

We were at the funeral together, but back then, I was more of an onlooker than a member of the ducal house. I hadn’t understood anything.

How funny, that my first official meeting with my stepson would be at someone else’s celebration.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome from my stepson. Even a modern woman like me would find it hard to accept a younger stepmother.

So I assumed Mikhail would be distant…

“Oh! Mother!”

But he greeted me with a bright smile.

“How lovely to meet you. I’m Mikhail Phil Layton.”

“Wilhelmina…”

“Layton!”

“…Layton. Pleased to meet you.”

I was so flustered I stammered my words.

I hadn’t expected him to greet me so cheerfully, nor to reach out so naturally for a handshake.

It felt less like meeting a stepmother and more like a class president welcoming a new student.

It had been a while since I felt this overwhelmed by friendliness.

“Given the occasion, I hope you’ll forgive the lack of a proper welcome.”

“…It’s fine. I heard you’ve been very busy.”

“Actually, I told my wife I should visit and greet you first, but she said you might need some time to adjust. So I couldn’t come.”

“That’s…”

Wouldn’t it be better not to say that? It might sound like he’s talking behind her back.

‘He… doesn’t seem to mean any harm, though.’