MILND 94

Chapter 94

After meeting Wilhelmina, Jace underwent a great change.

He hadn’t become some virtuous, moral nobleman, but at the very least, he no longer blurted out words carelessly and had learned how to swallow his anger.

In a way, he had passed through adolescence.

Jace himself acknowledged the change, and he successfully completed Lady Roland’s training.

When he returned home, feeling proud of his growth… what welcomed him was a training order from the Marquis of the Border.

“For a successor from our Milo viscountcy to receive military training—how very proud I am!”

“F-Father, I was planning to return to the Academy…”

“It’s fine! The Academy has already agreed to certify your attendance while you’re away!”

Faced with his father’s radiant smile—something he had never once seen before—Jace couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

A training order stamped with the Border Marquis’s crest, and a certification of attendance from the Academy… the thoroughness of the arrangement made it obvious who had orchestrated it all.

“The godmother…”

He had thought himself grown enough to withstand his father’s pressure, but whenever Wilhelmina’s memory surfaced, cold sweat still broke out on his back.

She was the one person he must never defy—that was the image Jace had of Wilhelmina.

“This is my fate…”

His rest at home lasted only briefly, before he was dragged into the Marquis’s army.

There, it mattered little that he was a nobleman’s son—the instructors, eyes blazing, put him through harsh training all winter long.

Swordsmanship, archery, physical conditioning, tactics… it was rigorous enough to send him straight to the frontlines.

His height shot up by nearly a handspan, his once-boyish face began to shed its youth, and the arrogance in his gaze gave way to composure.

The sharp, unruly aura he once gave off had mellowed considerably—thanks to the burly instructors who immediately punished the slightest hint of insolence.

“Still… in the end, I am proud.”

At first, he wanted nothing more than to run away, but with time, Jace’s mindset changed.

The greatest shift was that he no longer trembled under the pressure of his fiancée’s family, the Jormund counts.

Their scoldings seemed trivial compared to the instructors’ fists. A mere letter no longer made him quake.

At the same time, he realized just how foolish his past violence had been.

“That stupid pride…”

Out in the real world, he finally understood how cowardly his actions had been.

Once his mindset had shifted, Jace wrote letters of apology to Lady Roland and her maid, Rose—and received forgiveness.

It was around that time that spring arrived.

At last, it was time to graduate from the training camp.

No more waking at dawn to run the field, no more collapsing from brutal drills.

He rejoiced at the thought of newfound freedom—until:

“A letter has arrived from the godmother.”

The name Wilhelmina made his hands tremble as he opened the envelope. Inside, he found neat handwriting.

Skimming quickly, the content could be summed up in one line:

[Come. Right now.]

And so, swallowing his tears, Jace set off for the Layton territory.

It had only been half a year, yet when he met Wilhelmina again in the study—now oddly nostalgic—Jace felt his chest pound.

The ever-cute Mirinae, instead of Anna, was pouring tea. Perhaps it was simply because he hadn’t seen her in a while, but his heart raced wildly.

“She’s even cuter now.”

Of course, aside from growing a little taller, Mirinae hadn’t changed at all.

It was only Jace’s rose-colored perception thickening.

Wilhelmina, watching him, spoke with a faintly exasperated tone.

“Say… do you still, by chance, think Mirinae is…”

“Hm?”

“…Never mind. Forget it.”

Someday he’ll learn the truth, she thought with a sigh.

“Anyway, I called you here because I need a favor.”

“…What kind of favor?”

Jace sipped the tea—a rarity after military camp—and braced himself, tension in his face.

“What could it be? Conquering high society, maybe?”

To him, Wilhelmina was like the mastermind in a novel.

Even in the camp, he had heard rumors about her—about her knight, Nata.

Nata, who had won the martial tournament, proudly displaying her skill.

Nata, who had left behind the army that had scorned her, and found her true master.

It was only then the soldiers realized everything had been Wilhelmina’s scheme.

The instructor who recounted this had sighed:

“All of us were in the godmother’s palm.”

Hearing that, Jace had felt an odd kinship with the usually fearsome instructor.

He had been in the same position himself.

By the time you realized something was wrong, it was too late.

When your own misdeeds coiled around your neck, it was Wilhelmina’s hand that reached out…

“This time too, it must be some grand scheme.”

Jace swallowed hard, watching Wilhelmina deliberate on how best to explain.

“Does she want to use our family? The Jormunds have been at odds with the dukes lately… or maybe it’s about the Academy? I heard the marquess’s son…”

Lost in wild suspicions, Jace was startled when Wilhelmina finally spoke.

“Jace, can you act?”

“…Act? Why?”

“I need someone to play the role of a nuisance gang leader. Since you’ve done it before, you’ll manage just fine.”

Jace’s face contorted.

But Wilhelmina went on calmly, explaining why she had called him.

After hearing about the conflict between Maybelle and the Western Sun group, Jace frowned.

“Western Sun? That shady clique?”

They were famous for their tight bonds, much like an Academy faction.

It wasn’t praise.

Even without Maybelle’s case, countless students had fallen victim to nasty rumors after earning the group’s ire.

It was nicknamed a “miniature society.”

“So… you want me to help this Maybelle girl?”

“No. Just stir up a bit of trouble.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be easier to just help her directly?”

Bullying happened often enough at the Academy.

Rarely did children resolve it alone—usually parents or relatives intervened subtly.

And the outcome was usually unfair, thanks to differences in rank.

From that perspective, Maybelle was in a favorable position.

“Even if the Metocan viscountcy is weak, the Layton dukedom isn’t. No noble wants to offend the Western leader.”

With Wilhelmina’s backing, the matter could be crushed instantly.

“Jace, if you were Maybelle, would you want my help?”

“…Of course not. I’d rather… no, I’d want to handle it myself.”

Wilhelmina’s eyebrow twitched.

Jace quickly corrected himself.

“I mean, Maybelle would feel the same. If she wanted your help, I’d gladly step in too. But she chose to face it herself.”

“Because of her pride?”

“Most likely.”

…Hmm. Impressive.

Jace’s opinion of Maybelle rose a notch.

He had thought her merely a weak young lady leaning on Wilhelmina’s protection.

He didn’t know what it felt like to be bullied, but he did understand how suffocatingly difficult such conflicts were to resolve.

For her, a viscount’s daughter, to try to solve it alone…

He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of interest in her.

“Alright. So, I’m not to help openly. …But what does causing a stir have to do with that?”

“To be precise, it’s not about a stir. It’s about defying the group’s leader.”

When Jace still looked puzzled, Wilhelmina leaned in, as if sharing a secret.

“Tell me, Jace—do you think that group is truly harmonious? Peaceful?”

“…No, of course not.”

“And do you think every member truly respects and follows the leader?”

“Hardly.”

Even three nobles together spawned factions. For a group dubbed a “mini-society,” factions within Western Sun were only natural.

“Exactly. That’s why you’ll become the friend of those who dislike the leader.”

“…Ah.”

Finally, Jace understood.

“You don’t need to help Maybelle directly. But you can support the kids who want to side with her.”

The unexpected, razor-sharp insight into children’s dynamics sent a chill down Jace’s spine.

She was reframing an individual conflict into a group issue.

She was turning indifference into action by giving others a chance to vent their resentment.

By provoking the simple, obvious thought—“I never liked that person either.”

“Of course, you mustn’t use violence or insults. There’s no need to make enemies. Remember, the stance you’ll take is this…”

Wilhelmina slowly began to instruct Jace.

Not the kind of etiquette taught by Lady Roland at the Academy—but practical lessons in the social maneuvering of adults.