Chapter 19
When Evie appeared, Lady Dufien bowed her head deeply, her face pale and worn.
She looked like someone who had suffered through severe stress and intimidation overnight.
“Miss Evie… I sincerely apologize for my behavior yesterday. I didn’t realize you were under the Duke of Noctis’s protection. Children, hurry and apologize, too.”
The little ones beside her—whose eyes were puffier than Evie’s—offered a lavishly wrapped bouquet.
“We’re sorry about yesterday…”
“We’re so sorry. Please forgive our family. We were wrong. Huuu…”
“…Chyu?”
What on earth was going on?
As Evie blinked in confusion, a maid nearby chuckled softly and whispered,
“The Duke gave the Dufien family quite the scolding.”
“Chit?”
The Duke did?
Did he put financial pressure on them or something?
“He said they violated the terms of mutual respect in their business contract. He warned them that unless they apologized and compensated immediately, he would reclaim everything.”
“Chyu-chut? (Reclaim what exactly?)”
“They said the children tugged at you so hard that you were nearly torn in half, right?”
“…Chyu, chut.”
“He said he’d return the favor exactly as it was done to you—by splitting the viscount’s mansion and villas clean in half.”
“……!”
“They say he’s already sharpened his sword.”
“……!!”
If anyone else had said that, it would’ve sounded like an empty threat.
But coming from the Duke of Noctis—it was different.
That wasn’t a threat. It was a notice.
The Dufien family must have realized that too, and scrambled to make amends.
‘So it’s true… the fist is closer than the law. A terrifying truth.’
Evie was simply grateful that this time, that fist was on her side—even if only temporarily.
After a moment of thought, Evie shook her head toward the viscountess and her children.
“Chyu-chut. (I won’t accept your apology.)”
The viscountess’s face turned white, and the children burst into tears.
After watching for a moment, Evie finally spoke again.
“Chyu chyu-chut… (I do have one condition, though…)”
A short while later, the Dufien mother and children left empty-handed—but not without leaving a promise to return tomorrow.
Evie had sent word through the maid: “Keep coming every day to apologize until I forgive you.”
‘There’s something I learned while living—no, surviving—at the Count’s estate.’
It was this: always take what you can, while you can.
She didn’t have anything specific she wanted right now, so she’d just store the favor for later.
‘Still… this is the first time anyone’s ever apologized to me.’
Though it was embarrassing to remember clinging to the Duke’s finger and headbutting it yesterday…
‘He probably doesn’t like kids who just take without giving anything back. I’d better make myself useful and give him something too.’
Evie immediately got to work.
‘If I do it just like the instructions in that box said, I’ll be able to ease the Duke’s scar pain!’
“Chyu-chyut! (Hello!)”
“You’re here! I’ve been waiting.”
The head chef greeted her warmly.
Evie took out the acorns she had carried in her cheek pouches and placed them in his hands—each one from the white oak tree.
The chef gathered them aside and pulled another jar from the pantry.
“These are the ones I’ve already ground into flour. Let’s use this batch today.”
“Chyuu!”
Evie nodded eagerly.
They were about to make acorn cookies—Evie’s birthday present for the Duke to give him during the banquet.
According to the letter inside the box, eating acorns from the white oak regularly would gradually ease one’s pain.
Although, technically, the effect was much faster if absorbed through someone’s pheromones…
‘But that method’s impossible for me. Not yet, anyway.’
Even so, this would be enough to foil Count Rusten’s schemes!
Then the Duke wouldn’t adopt the Count’s spy—he’d adopt her instead!
Kyukyu! Evie covered her mouth and giggled.
“Shall we start with the dough?”
“Chyu chyuut!”
Me! Me!
Evie raised her little hands high, and the chef chuckled, stepping aside.
“Would you like to try? I’ll prepare all the ingredients for you.”
Evie watched in fascination as the chef cracked eggs and mixed them into the butter.
‘Oh, right—I should wash my hands too.’
She scampered over to the sink, turned on the faucet with her whole body, and began washing her hands thoroughly.
Just as she looked up to grab a towel hanging above—
—a man with a greasy, rat-like mustache was staring down at her with bulging eyes.
‘C–Count Rusten!? Why is he here?!’
The unexpected encounter startled Evie—but she wasn’t as scared as before.
‘If it comes to it, I’ll stab him in the eye!’
She tensed up, ready for anything.
Meanwhile, Count Rusten stood frozen.
He couldn’t believe it—Evie was actually in the Duke’s castle!
‘I hadn’t seen her around… thought she’d finally starved to death!’
A surge of violent impulse rose in him. He wanted to grab her, stuff her in a sack, and throw her into some dark hole where no one would ever find her.
‘Useless little vermin…’
As the two stared each other down in tense silence, the oblivious chef spoke cheerfully,
“Miss Evie, the dough is ready! Come over and—oh! What brings you here, my lord?”
The chef’s tone turned guarded.
Some guests had spoken poorly about the Duke’s beloved squirrel, after all.
Count Rusten’s lips twitched into a crooked smirk.
“What business of yours is where I—ah, ha ha.”
Catching himself, he forced a smile.
“I simply wished to see the famous squirrel I’d heard so much about! And now that I have, I understand why His Grace cherishes you so. You’re truly… adorable.”
“…Ugh.”
Evie gagged involuntarily.
Was the man senile?
‘Well… at least he’s pretending not to recognize me.’
The reason was obvious and disgusting—but still, it was better this way.
‘For now, I’ll just play along.’
“Chyu, chyu-chut.”
Evie forced a smile, though only one corner of her mouth twitched upward—turning it into a twisted grimace.
“Hahaha, ha ha ha… What a lovely smile. My name is Count Rusten. Shall we shake hands?”
Evie shuddered. Smiling was fine—but touching was absolutely not.
“Chyu-chut? (No, thank you.)”
She climbed up onto the chef’s shoulder, pointedly turning away.
A vein bulged on the Count’s forehead before he forced another grin.
“Hahaha… am I frightening you? Don’t worry. I like children who are quiet. Very… quiet ones.”
“……”
“Hmm… Have you two met before?” the chef asked, puzzled. “It almost feels like you already know each other. Ha ha, silly me.”
Evie laughed awkwardly. So did the Count.
They exchanged polite words and hollow laughter for a while—
To an outsider, it might have looked like a pleasant, friendly chat.
And right then, there was an outsider watching.
“…My lord.”
The Duke did not answer Baird’s quiet call.
He stood frozen, expressionless.
After his wife’s passing, the Duke’s mind had been consumed entirely by thoughts of his youngest daughter—the one he’d never even gotten to see before she was taken.
He’d seen nothing else. Cared for nothing else.
But lately, something strange had begun to happen.
The little flying squirrel girl kept creeping into his thoughts.
Sometimes… she even felt like his real daughter.
And every time that happened, his iron will wavered.
Ever since Evie had burst into tears, those feelings had only grown stronger.
Trying to calm his restlessness—and fulfill his duty as her temporary guardian—the Duke had gone down to the kitchen floor to check on her.
But before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Count Rusten standing there—laughing and chatting with Evie.
That man, her former “guardian.”
When he heightened his senses, he could clearly hear their conversation.
The Count’s voice, full of delight at seeing Evie again.
Evie’s soft giggles in response.
“……”
The Duke’s grip tightened around the stair railing.
The imperial master craftsman–forged iron crumbled to dust in his hand.
He didn’t even notice. His thoughts had gone somewhere darker.
Evie had always been terrified of being touched by adult men.
And yet—she was smiling at him?
‘That fear must have come from Rusten himself…’
No matter how he looked at it, it made no sense.
Unless—
‘Separation anxiety, was it?’
If that was true, then what Evie wanted wasn’t just safety—it was a parental bond.
Children instinctively crave affection from their parents.
Even if that “parent” is a monster.
Even if that “parent” is the one who traumatized them.
“……”
An old, forgotten heat surged in the Duke’s throat—a burning disgust he hadn’t felt in years.
He abruptly turned and climbed the stairs again.
Baird hurried to follow.
“My lord, are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Baird glanced uneasily at the powdered remains of the railing.
“Do you think Miss Evie will return to Count Rusten?”
“How should I know?”
“She still seems to think of him as her father.”
“……”
“She’s much healthier now than when we first met her… but in the end, will she go back to him?”
“If she has any sense, she won’t.”
“But to a child, a parent’s presence means everything. Unless someone truly ideal appears, they’ll always choose their original guardian.”
The Duke stopped abruptly.
“…An ideal person, you say.”
Better to kill that bastard than let her go back to him.
The sound of grinding teeth filled the hall.
“Call Olga,” the Duke ordered coldly.
“There’s crucial information I need to know.”
