TBMGW 15

Chapter 15

“Master…!”

There was no time to worry about the bread and sandwiches scattered across the floor.

I rushed over to Ian, who had collapsed, and dropped to my knees in front of him.

It was obvious the Duke had struck him.

The bright red swelling on his cheek was proof enough.

The chill in my veins set in quickly. Never before had Duke Brighton shown such rage toward his son.

Even when Ian had created corpses, even when he had shattered minds, the man had stayed silent.

So why now?

“You’ve chosen your personal servant well.”

Just as I wrapped my arms around Ian’s trembling shoulders, bent over and gasping for breath, the Duke’s indifferent voice cut through the air.

“To ignore the master of this house and rush to care for you first—”

At that, Ian raised his bloodshot eyes, glaring at his father.

The Duke didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow under his son’s burning stare.

“Your Grace, the young master…”

“Enough, Sissi. I know you are blameless. Make sure you never give me reason to be angry with you.”

“Ah…”

My mouth shut at once.

That commanding tone told me that saying one word more could ruin everything.

“Stand up, Ian Brighton.”

“…”

“I could not ignore Agatha’s tearful pleas to cover up your actions—the countless victims you’ve created. But even that has its limits.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You were just afraid of me.”

Ian’s words dripped with venom, but the Duke remained silent, as solid and immovable as stone.

Truly a man of rock. His face resembled Ian’s exactly, yet father and son could not be more different.

“You were scared I’d kill you if you laid a hand on me, isn’t that right?”

“If I laid a hand on you,” the Duke answered stiffly, “I feared you would endanger Rosa and Agatha. Just as you did with the servant who fled at dawn.”

The Duke’s calm gaze met Ian’s.

Twelve years. Since Ian Brighton was born, he had lived within this mansion.

What thoughts had the Duke harbored during those years? What had he endured?

What had he truly felt toward his son?

“I thought… perhaps you could change. That the child at your side played no small part in it. I even dared hope this might bring a positive outcome. Your mother wanted nothing more than to be a normal family with you again.”

Ian’s mouth pressed into a tight line.

That sharp expression said all too clearly he felt no sympathy for his father’s words.

“The servant from Rosa’s household left of his own will, didn’t he? Likely because you drove him mad. Should I thank you for sparing his life?”

“Your Grace…”

“Sisi.”

At the tremor in my voice, the Duke’s tone softened slightly.

Only slightly, but it was there.

“My apologies.”

He was a good man. Even as a mere servant disobeyed his order to be silent, speaking up to defend his son, the Duke was the one to apologize first.

But was he a good man even to Ian Brighton?

“Ian.”

The Duke’s words slipped out with a weary sigh.

“You’ll keep doing these things, won’t you.”

“Of course.”

Ian’s voice was a snarl.

“Just like you said, I’ll stay locked up in this house and spend my days doing nothing but giving you all reasons to be afraid. Is that what you wanted? Satisfied now?”

No.

What about my desperate effort to hide Ian’s crimes from the bakery owner?

What about my tiny ambition of living forever in this golden workplace, enjoying generous pay and benefits?

What about all the time I spent scheming to stop Cecil and the temple from storming the Duke’s mansion early?

“Throw me out, then. Isn’t that what you and Mother and Sister have all wanted? For me to disappear? Fine. I’ll vanish. I’m sick of this damned house too.”

Without a thought for my silent panic, Ian Brighton bit out the words.

The Duke closed his eyes tightly and drew in a slow breath.

“There is an estate on the empire’s outskirts. I’ve kept it in excellent condition. You’ll lack nothing there.”

Ian muttered bitterly.

“See? It’s like you were just waiting for me to say I’d leave…”

I wanted to scream.

“Y-your Grace. I…”

“Sissi.”

The Duke turned on his heel, hands clasped behind his back, and strode out of Ian’s chamber. Then he stopped, eyes falling on me.

“Step outside for a moment.”

When the boss calls, the new hire obeys. That is the law of the workplace.

I awkwardly rose to follow him—

But suddenly, my wrist was seized.

“Don’t go.”

Ian’s voice stopped me. There was a desperate edge to it—enough to catch me off guard.

“Sissi.”

The Duke called again from outside.

Quickly, I turned back to Ian and knelt in front of him.

“Master, I’ll be right back.”

“I said don’t go.”

“I’ll ask to be sent with you. Truly.”

And I meant it. The project to inject Ian Brighton with humanity wasn’t over yet.

Not just humanity. I’d inject cuteness, childishness, and a love for marshmallow cocoa greater than the end of the world.

This was purification. An exorcism.

And it could never end.

No—it must not end.

If Ian were exiled to the villa alone, what were the odds of disaster striking?

No, no. What if the demon awakens fully at twelve?

Cecil hadn’t even received his prophecy yet.

The protagonist’s powers hadn’t matured.

If Ian Brighton lost control now, not only would my job evaporate, but there’d be no one left to stop him.

Cold sweat beaded my forehead as worst-case scenarios reeled through my mind.

Unaware of all that, Ian Brighton still gripped my wrist tightly.

Just as I opened my mouth to soothe him again, he released me.

“If you don’t come back, I’ll kill you.”

At that vicious threat, I gave a faint smile.

“I’m glad you’ve still got enough energy to throw a tantrum, Master.”

And I truly meant it.

I slipped quickly out of Ian’s chamber.

The moment I stepped through the door, I saw the Duke standing by the corridor window, sunlight spilling over him.

“Your Grace!”

“…Sissi.”

“Your Grace, I am the young master’s personal servant.”

I cut him off before he could speak.

I had to make my determination crystal clear.

“I wish to continue in this position!”

The Duke’s heavy-lidded eyes fell on me.

Under that gaze, I swallowed hard.

Sunlight streamed through the window, scattering across his golden hair.

He looked so much like Ian—exactly as Ian might appear once grown.

“Do you… love him?”

With that face, with that same visage as Ian’s, Duke Brighton suddenly asked the question.

I blinked in shock.

Wait.

Whether I said yes or no, it felt like a landmine.

Think, Sissi. What’s the right answer…?

“I am the young master’s…”

At last, breaking the silence, I carefully answered:

“…loyal servant.”

Blindly loyal, faithful servant.

“I once heard that a true retainer, even if their master commits evil, must stand in their way but never betray them.”

“Sisi, you’re just a twelve-year-old child. Not a knight, not Ian’s sworn vassal. You’re nothing but a servant of this house—free to leave at any time and find work elsewhere.”

Damn it. Every word was true. That left me with nothing to say.

No. I couldn’t give up.

I had to go with Ian to the villa.

“…I believe in the young master’s humanity.”

Duke Brighton went still.

I looked up and caught his expression. He looked so, so tired.

Just a moment ago, he had been a cold, ruthless ruler. Now he was nothing but a weary middle-aged man.

“The young master likes going outdoors. He loves lying in the grass under the sun. Among flowers, I think he favors the trumpet creeper. And…”

“…”

“And when we went on a picnic, he let me choose every snack.”

For a heartbeat, the Duke’s eyes widened—just slightly, but it was there.

“Maybe it’s only because I’ve known him for just a month. Maybe there are things I don’t know yet. Darker things waiting for me. But even so…”