MILND 40

Chapter :40 

I’m a Mother-in-Law, but I Hate Mother-in-Law Conflicts

“Of course it’s because of you. If you hadn’t come, Mirinae wouldn’t be on trial like this.”

What she meant was that Jayce’s rudeness and misdeeds were disguised as someone else’s fault, all thanks to the prestige of his noble family.

Before I knew it, Jane had started to list the punishments Mirinae should receive.

“We granted her the undeserved privilege of entering the office, but she abused that right. This is no light offense, and so—”

“Jayce Milo, have you ever considered the weight of your words? You think your family is better, that others are beneath you, and you’ve never once thought of the consequences.”

Had I said this the first time we met, he wouldn’t have listened. But now, Mirinae was right in front of him.

A friend about to be punished for something he did. A true friend who had stood by him even without being ordered to—now silently bowing her head, awaiting judgment.

Only then did Jayce have the chance to truly feel the weight of a noble’s words.

“You’ll probably go home without facing any consequences—just like always. You won’t even feel guilty about hurting someone.”

“…”

“Remember what I said when we first met? That you looked like someone with no friends.”

Now, for the first time, Jayce’s green eyes looked like those of a child—scared and innocent.

The same expression those other children must’ve worn when he bullied them.

“I was right, wasn’t I? In the end, you just burdened your friend and walked away. You’ve lost another friend this time too.”

The violence of children is still a serious issue in modern society.

Children who should be innocent end up bullying others—hurting people under the guise of “just playing,” and their cruelty gets covered up with light punishments.

Even in modern times, where status is no longer official, the culture of hierarchy still existed.

Kids from wealthy homes, louder and stronger kids, forming groups to justify bullying others…

And the powerless teachers who couldn’t stop it.

Back when I was just a cram school teacher, I had never managed to reform a student like that. In most cases, school violence ended in victory for the bully.

“…But I’ll give you one last chance.”

That’s why Jayce would be the first bully I could actually save.

“I can’t stop this trial. This is the Duke family’s decision. But I can make a little fuss. For example…”

I leaned in and whispered something short in his ear. Jayce looked at me and asked softly,

“…Won’t Mirinae hate me?”

Finally, a worry befitting a child. And that, I could help with—as a teacher should.

“She might. Even if you apologize, you might not go back to being friends like before. That’s how it is. Apologizing is hard. It’s scary. You have to take responsibility.”

When kids make their first friends, the first two things we teach them are:

To say thank you, and I’m sorry.

Because both are hard to say even as adults—so early education is important.

So Jayce’s fear of apologizing was perfectly normal.

“If you’re scared, I’ll go with you.”

“…Together?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there with you when you apologize to Mirinae.”

If someone hears this and scoffs, wondering how that would help—they’re an adult. They’ve forgotten how scary a first apology can be.

When kids fight and make up, the teacher isn’t just a mediator—they’re also someone who stands by to say, You’re doing fine.

Jayce looked at me blankly and said,

“I’ll take the blame instead.”

“What?”

“…Someone else told me something similar once.”

Then he gave a faint smile.

His face, caught between resolution, hesitation, guilt, and pressure, slowly returned to its usual stubborn expression—the classic face of the noble family’s wild child.

Jayce stood up, opened his bag, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed them to me. Then, he walked toward the courtroom.

The servants participating as jurors watched him intently. Jane stopped talking. Even Mirinae, who had been silent all this time, slowly raised her head and looked at him.

All eyes were on Jayce.

He stood tall, his head held high, facing Jane like a proper noble. Then he reached out and grabbed Mirinae’s hand tightly.

“Mirinae didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…Lord Jayce?”

“I’m the one who did wrong. I was the one who asked her to go into the office. So Mirinae is innocent.”

Then, slowly, he bowed to her. Mirinae’s eyes widened, and from behind, I could hear the Viscountess draw in a sharp breath.

But Jayce didn’t stop there. He turned toward Jane and the servants and bowed deeply once again.

“I’m sorry.”

“…”

“I was the one trying to steal the answer sheet. Please don’t doubt Mirinae. I’m really sorry for causing all of this. It’s all my fault.”

Jayce didn’t lift his head. In a voice laced with tears, he whispered again.

“I’m truly sorry.”

Even though no one had ever taught him, Jayce instinctively knew that this apology had to be repeated.

“I’m sorry.”

No one responded, but in the silent garden, his tearful apology reached everyone’s ears.

Later…

After the garden was cleared, Jane came to me.

“But… are you really okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Claiming you used classified documents for origami with the servants… that lie.”

The last thing I’d whispered to Jayce was the ridiculous declaration: “I’ll take responsibility and say it was my mistake.”

Fortunately, there had been a time when I used some old papers for origami with the children.

I’d pretend that I accidentally used the budget records that had fallen on the floor without realizing what they were—and only just discovered it now.

So here I was, in the drawing room, folding paper airplanes out of knight corps budget documents while enjoying some tea and snacks. I’d send these to the main house, slightly unfolded.

That way, Jayce would only carry the lesser sin of “asking Mirinae to do something inappropriate.”

It wasn’t the ending Helene had wanted, but to me, this was just right.

“It’s fine. The documents weren’t that important. And they won’t be mad at me when I resolved this so neatly.”

“Sometimes I really can’t tell whether you and the Duke family have a good or bad relationship.”

“How rude. No one thinks about their daughter-in-law more than I do.”

“….”

Jane just quietly sipped her tea, a complicated look on her face.

Right then, the drawing room door opened and Anna came in.

“Madam, the letter and recommendation were delivered successfully.”

“Good work.”

Right after the trial, I had told Anna to prepare some paper.

The letter contained the names of “friends” that the Viscountess had identified—those Jayce had either burdened or outright bullied.

If we’d left him like that for another year… he really would’ve caused trouble.

Even if Jayce was under immense stress from his boarding situation, thinking about how he’d shoved Rose before made me think it wouldn’t have been long before he lashed out physically.

In that sense, it was good timing that his parents had asked the Viscountess for help.

Though their parenting is clearly a bit lacking…

They were typical nobles—parents who did love their child, but still prioritized the family’s honor and reputation.

If I explained Jayce’s case to other nobles, half of them would probably say, “What’s so pitiful about that?” and tilt their heads.

Even when I attended the academy, kids like Jayce weren’t rare.

The biggest problem will probably be Count Jormund.

I can only hope the Milo Viscount family makes a wise decision.

Anyway, among the students the Viscountess had mentored, several had become academy professors. Using those connections, we investigated Jayce’s friendships.

We created a list of friends to whom he owed an apology—and sent it to him.

The meaning behind that was obvious:

Apologize.

Just because he apologized to Mirinae doesn’t mean he was reformed. He had to apologize to the friends he treated like subordinates—and be forgiven. That was the final lesson.

Whether he’d be forgiven or not… was uncertain. It was possible Jayce had hurt them in ways even the Viscountess didn’t know, or that they suffered far more than he realized.

When it comes to forgiveness, the key isn’t the offender’s sincerity—it’s the victim’s generosity.

Once you’ve hurt someone, there’s no such thing as perfect atonement.

All I could do was hope Jayce wouldn’t forget the feelings he had during the trial—and that he’d grow up.

As I munched on the last of the snacks, Nata, who had been standing guard, cautiously approached.

“…Madam.”

“Hmm?”

“That recommendation letter… Is it for that place?”

To his question, I smiled mischievously and nodded.

As punishment for using Mirinae, Jayce was now ordered to use that recommendation letter.