Chapter 89
Before the second part began, Viscountess Metokan, having heard of the incident, insisted that she wished to apologize personally and begged me to stay.
I wanted to decline since it was already late.
“I wish to repay the Grand Lady.”
…she said, even taking my hand as she leaned closer.
When even the butler at her side pleaded with teary eyes, I had no choice but to nod.
And so, when the second part ended, I followed the butler out of the banquet hall.
‘The stares are a little bothersome, though.’
Leaving behind the suspicious—or perhaps jealous—looks of the nobles, I headed toward the mansion’s drawing room.
As expected of an inventor’s household, the drawing room was filled with strange-looking objects.
A sofa with clockwork gears attached, or a mirror with mechanical arms—I resisted the urge to stare too openly.
‘And this girl… is she planning to stay here the whole time?’
Sitting beside me was the cause of the incident—the viscountess’s daughter.
I recalled her name was Mabel.
She was about the same height as Mirinae and still wore the oversized mask, keeping perfectly silent.
From the start of part two of the presentation, Mabel had followed right behind me.
The butler had suggested she return to her room, but she stubbornly refused.
‘I’ll stay here.’
Unable to win over Mabel’s obstinacy, the butler had turned to me with desperate eyes, and I gave a small nod to show it was fine.
It seemed the household staff were quite lenient toward Mabel.
‘Still, that mask is really well-made. My kids would probably love it if they saw it.’
I spent the time absentmindedly examining Mabel’s mask until Viscountess Metokan finally entered, finished with her farewells.
“Apologies for the delay, Grand Lady. The send-off took longer than expected.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Honestly, I wanted to go home as soon as possible, but I put on a composed act as I greeted her.
She took off her coat, handing it to the butler.
“Kalsemo, bring us drinks. Ah—Grand Lady, would you like…?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Since I politely declined, she didn’t press further and instead dropped heavily onto the sofa opposite me.
‘…She’s not leaving.’
Even with her mother present, Mabel didn’t move away from my side.
Nor did the viscountess seem to notice or care.
She removed her glasses, loosened her tied-up hair, and took a breath.
Soon, the butler returned, bringing glasses filled with an amber-colored drink.
“Thank you.”
She downed it in one gulp, sighing in relief.
“Forgive me, I was parched.”
“I understand. It was a long presentation.”
“…Though, truthfully, very few seemed to understand me.”
Her smile was faint—half bitter, half mocking.
‘She feels very different now.’
The bumbling figure I’d seen in the banquet hall was gone; her manner of speech was strikingly different.
I’d seen nobles change demeanor with circumstances, but rarely this drastically.
“First, allow me to thank you. My daughter Mabel owes you much. If not for you, I shudder to think what might have happened at the presentation.”
“Please, think nothing of it.”
It had only been chance that I recognized Mabel’s invention.
Because I’d been standing at the corner, chatting with Chloe, I happened to notice the truth behind that blood-colored trick art.
Had I been watching from the center like the other nobles, I might have been caught up in the chaos.
I was about to reassure her—It was just a child’s mistake; everyone will take it as a small accident—when the viscountess suddenly launched into an explanation.
“This must have happened because she mishandled the dyes. Since the banquet was held in the evening, she likely intended to use fluorescent dye.”
“…Pardon?”
A squeak escaped me before I could stop it, but she continued, undeterred.
“Fluorescent dyes oxidize into red very quickly if not properly sealed. She must have packed too much into the container, leaving gaps, and oxidation occurred. Worse, we were out of stabilizer, so there was no way to prevent it. And in any case, a wooden box is a poor choice…”
The technical lecture went on and on.
After about ten minutes, having explained down to the box’s construction, she nodded matter-of-factly.
“…That is what happened.”
“Ah… I see.”
A little worn out by the flood of words, I gave a halfhearted reply.
Noticing my expression, she cleared her throat.
“Apologies. It’s a habit of mine—whenever an experiment fails, I seek out the cause.”
Truly the mindset of an inventor.
I couldn’t quite say “I understand,” so I just gave a short nod.
“….”
She, who had just rattled on endlessly, now lapsed into silence, making the drawing room feel uncomfortably stiff.
‘She’s… not an easy person to deal with.’
I glanced at the butler, then finally brought up the reassurance I’d been holding back.
“I think she only wanted to show the guests a lovely painting with music. Surely she never meant to ruin the viscountess’s presentation.”
“….”
“And it was pure chance that I recognized her drawing, so you needn’t dwell on it too—”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Grand Lady. But did you hear that from Mabel herself?”
“…Pardon?”
“Was it truly Mabel’s intent to show painting and music to the guests?”
Though her phrasing was blunt, her voice carried no hostility—just pure curiosity. Which made it all the more disconcerting.
“I… I didn’t hear it from her, no.”
I was only trying to speak kindly of her child—why did that matter?
I turned to Mabel, but with her mask on, I couldn’t read her expression.
“Then there must have been another reason.”
“A child of the Metokan line would not engage in such irrational behavior. If she took that action, it must have been with a sound purpose.”
“….”
For a moment I wondered if the Metokans were soldiers, not inventors.
Such a strict family creed was unusual among nobles.
“Besides, even with good intentions, presenting a failed invention at the gathering was a grave error. Our family’s presentations are attended by His Majesty the Emperor himself…”
It wasn’t just me—her words made even the butler uneasy, and he carefully interjected.
“M-my lady. The young miss only wished to follow your example.”
“Kal se mo, that isn’t the point.”
“…What?”
“At a presentation, only successful inventions should be shown. She brought a failure instead. Whatever the intent, the result is plain.”
She tilted her head, almost puzzled at his objection, then went on.
“Mabel failed. It’s only right she bear responsibility. That has nothing to do with ruining the presentation.”
“….”
The butler and I both fell silent.
‘So this is what kind of person Viscountess Metokan is….’
Not once since entering had she demanded Mabel apologize.
To her, the mistakes of her family were the lord’s to shoulder—thus she herself gave thanks, and likewise it was her duty, as lord, to reprimand.
She scolded Mabel not as a mother, but as head of house, as a fellow inventor.
But in that stern reproach, there was no warmth of a parent.
‘Perhaps this is just their family’s way.’
I wanted to brush it off lightly—children make mistakes sometimes, don’t be too hard on her—but this was someone else’s household. To interfere might only seem presumptuous.
I was about to step back, when—
“….”
I felt a tug at the hem of my dress.
Mabel’s small, stubby fingers clutched it tight, trembling. Her feet pressed together under the sofa, her head bowed low.
“…Haa.”
A sigh slipped out of me.
Of course no child could stay unmoved at being branded a failure by their own mother.
Even if the viscountess was rigid as a machine, that didn’t mean her daughter was the same.
Now I understood why Mabel refused to leave my side.
‘So this is what it feels like for children being scolded.’
In other words, she was asking me silently to stand up for her.
The quieter the child, the more they showed their feelings through small gestures.
Knowing her fault, she wouldn’t make excuses, enduring the cold judgment with maturity.
‘I really shouldn’t meddle….’
I was an outsider.
No one had asked me, as Jace once had, to step in.
So the right thing was to keep out of it.
And yet—my mouth moved against my will.
“Viscountess, are you the one who decided Mabel’s invention was a failure?”
At once her brows knit.
Her attempts to mask her expression were clumsy; her displeasure was obvious.
“…Yes.”
“And why is that?”
“Because she failed to handle the dye properly.”
“Did Mabel say that herself? Perhaps she intended from the start for it to be red. The purpose of painting was fulfilled, was it not?”
It was a ridiculous argument, a deliberate twisting of words.
Everyone knew the moment fluorescent dye was used, the outcome was fixed.
But right now, what I needed wasn’t sound logic, but an opening to argue back.
“That’s sophistry. No one present understood the painting, did they? Had she used fluorescent dye properly, it would have been clear—”
“If something isn’t understood, does that make it a failure?”
“….”
I smiled faintly as I met her gaze.
Her expression had sharpened, far more striking than it had been in the banquet hall.
“Mabel never once called her invention a failure. Tell me, Viscountess—if the public fails to understand an invention, does that make it a failure?”
‘…Though, truly, very few seemed to understand me.’
Her own words, turned back against her.
Sophistry, yes.
But infuriating sophistry—hard to deny without undermining herself.
Once again, uncomfortable silence settled over the drawing room.
