Chapter 21
It was said that if you ate acorns as food, you had to eat them continuously to be completely cured. That was written in the letter buried under the tree.
That’s why so many cookies had been made.
Now there’s nothing left to do in the kitchen.
Even in the midst of the busy banquet preparations, Evie bowed deeply to the head chef to thank him for his time.
Bow.
“Chupipit! (Thank you for helping me all this time.)”
“Oh my.”
Seeing Evie’s big head wobble forward as she bowed made the chef’s lips twitch in amusement. He quickly bowed back.
“It was a fun project. Haha, come by any time. Before you go… would it be all right if I petted you just once?”
“Chyu.”
Evie obediently stretched out her head, and the furry chef, looking flustered like a shy girl, gently stroked her smooth fur.
After Evie left the break room,
the chef looked around the kitchen maids, wondering whom to ask to deliver the jar of cookies as a gift.
Then one of the maids raised her hand.
“I’ll deliver it. I know where Miss Evie’s room is.”
“Good. I’ll leave it to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
The maid picked up the cookie jar and left.
A short while later, as she was returning to the kitchen after delivering the cookies, someone suddenly grabbed her arm.
Startled, she trembled as she recognized the man.
“I… I did as you told me. Now the squirrel will have no choice but to come to the break room. Or at least, the maids around her will leave their posts.”
“Good.”
The man with the sinister eyes handed her a pouch of money and smiled in satisfaction.
He was Count Rusten’s servant.
At last, the banquet began.
From the late afternoon, the hall opened and began to welcome guests.
The nobles, eager for a joyful night, hurried inside—of course not forgetting the birthday gifts meant to win the Duke’s favor.
Evie had just finished her preparations too.
“Oh my, Miss Evie, you look so cute!”
“Chyu? Chu-chut? (Really? You mean it?)”
Even she thought so herself!
Evie gazed at her reflection in the mirror with a dazzled expression.
A red ribbon was tied around the head of the gray-brown flying squirrel, and she wore a short cape of the same color, trimmed with white fur at the hem—it looked so warm.
“Ahh, Red Riding Hood Evie—too cute…”
The maids sighed heatedly.
“If Lady Olga saw this, she’d either break something or get a nosebleed.”
“Standing right next to Lieutenant Baird, no doubt.”
Baird had to stay by the Duke’s side, and Olga was on knight duty, so neither were present.
“Lady Olga keeps trying to steal my duties these days. It’s been troublesome.”
“Lady Risa’s been pressuring me lately too…”
“Chu-chut chu—uu.”
Ladies, at this rate we’ll be late!
Evie stomped her tiny feet to snap the daydreaming maids back to focus.
“Oh my, sorry! We need to hurry, don’t we? Gift presentation is the very first event.”
“I’ll take care of the cookies.”
A maid opened the cupboard and took out the jar of cookies.
But something was wrong.
“Wh-what is this?!”
“Kyaa!”
The cookies inside the jar had turned a strange purple overnight, covered in white mold.
“They were perfectly fine yesterday—how could this happen?”
“Sally, how did you even store them? Did you sneak something in?”
The maid who had stored them went pale.
“N-no! Miss Evie, I have no idea what happened! I swear I don’t!”
Tears welled up in the young maid’s eyes.
Evie looked at her for a moment, then hopped up and tapped her trembling fingers.
“Chuuu. (It’s okay.)”
“Sniff… huh?”
“Chuuu chu-chut. (There’s another way.)”
When Evie pointed back and forth between the cookies and the door, the maids’ faces gradually brightened.
“D-do you mean there are more cookies?”
“Chyu.”
“Thank goodness!”
Sally quickly wiped her tears, relieved.
“I’ll go get them right away! The kitchen, right? Oh—you’re coming with me?”
Evie scampered up onto the young maid’s shoulder and urged her forward, pointing down the hall.
“Yes, let’s hurry!”
Sally threw the door open—
and saw two children standing in the corridor, looking glum.
They were the brothers from the House of Dupien, dressed in formal clothes for the banquet.
“Um… didn’t you already visit this morning?”
The Dupien brothers and their mother had come every single day to ask for forgiveness, just as Evie had said.
But this was the first time they’d shown up again in the afternoon.
This time, only the children had come.
“I’m sorry, but the banquet’s starting soon, so you really should—ah?”
At that moment, Evie jumped down from Sally’s shoulder—
and landed right on top of the brothers’ heads.
Just like I said you would come.
Good, good.
“Chu-chut chu-chut.”
Evie patted the boys’ heads and then pointed boldly ahead.
“Chu-chut! (Let’s go!)”
The “other way” I meant wasn’t about cookies at all.
Evie giggled quietly to herself.
The entrance to the banquet hall bustled with nobles trying to get inside.
Count Rusten stood apart from the crowd with the child he planned to have adopted by the Duke.
A high priest approached the Count and spoke quietly so no one else could hear.
“You’ve heard the rumors, I assume? That the Duke plans to adopt a squirrel beastkin.”
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
The Count’s easygoing reply made the priest frown.
“Don’t take rumors lightly. It’s strange that he still refuses to show the creature to anyone, no matter how I request it.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I didn’t mean that.”
Count Rusten smirked unpleasantly.
“I meant there’s no need to worry—because the squirrel won’t be adopted.”
“What do you mean?”
“Soon, the squirrel will become a thief who stole gold from the ducal mansion and ran away.”
“Oh-ho. So you’ve already taken care of things.”
Now that the Count’s usual bodyguard—the one who handled all his dirty work—was nowhere to be seen, the priest smiled in satisfaction.
“Then shall we go in? I’m curious to see the faces of those who’ll witness Duke Noctis’s wrath.”
“Heh heh… as am I. Let’s go in. You there, why are you just standing around? Hurry up!”
The Count barked irritably at the boy standing a few steps away.
The boy, holding a large bouquet in both arms, started walking toward him.
And then—
Thud!
“Ah!”
The boy collided with a group of children running past and fell hard on his rear.
At the same time, something attached to the children flew through the air and slipped quietly into the bouquet.
The boy, too startled by the fall, didn’t notice anything.
After checking that the bouquet wasn’t damaged, he glared at the boys who had bumped into him.
Two brothers stood there, looking down at him blankly.
“Aren’t you going to apologize? What are you staring at? Do you even know who I am?”
“Who are you?”
“Some country bumpkin?”
The boy’s face turned bright red.
“I’ll have you know I’m going to be someone important! The likes of you won’t even dare look at me then!”
“We’re not scared of you.”
“There’s someone scarier than you.”
“Bleh!”
“Bleh!”
The brothers stuck their tongues out in unison and ran off laughing, shouting something odd about finally being forgiven.
“Y-you brats! Once I’m in the Duke’s house, I’ll make you—!”
The boy fell silent when he met Count Rusten’s deadly glare.
“Damn it.”
He quickly ran to catch up with the Count—
never noticing that the bouquet rustled faintly as if something inside had moved.
Finally, the star of the evening, the Duke himself, appeared.
Duke Noctis entered wearing a black ceremonial coat trimmed with gold and draped in a broad fur cape that framed his powerful shoulders.
He carried both noble dignity and the fierce charisma of a warrior who could draw his sword at any moment.
After a brief welcoming speech, the Duke took his seat at the head table—
a high place overlooking the entire hall.
Then, as if on cue, the nobles began to approach with their prepared gifts.
Count Rusten did the same.
After exchanging a subtle glance with the priest, he gave the child a shove.
“Don’t make any mistakes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Count and the boy each carried their gifts toward the Duke.
The boy’s bouquet was made of blue flowers known as anti-demon blossoms—a rare herb said to corrode monster poison.
To most people, it would be a pleasant gift.
But for the Duke, that scent will sting the scar he got from that poison long ago.
Count Rusten’s expression was sly as he glanced at the flowers.
“This is the Fairy’s Sword, forged over seven days and nights by fairies themselves. I thought it would suit a war hero like Your Grace.”
Opportunities to impress Duke Noctis were rare, so the nobles presented their most precious treasures.
But the Duke was not easily pleased.
Even when he received priceless, envy-worthy artifacts, not a hint of joy showed on his face.
Instead, he frowned.
The noble who had offered the sword panicked—then realized his mistake.
C-could it be he already owns many finer swords? Of course, he’s from an ancient warrior family… what a blunder!
But what the Duke was actually thinking was:
For such an ornate decoration, the blade is dangerously sharp. What if some ignorant child touches it and gets hurt?
He clicked his tongue quietly.
“…Tsk. I’ll accept it, at least.”
“……!”
Hearing that tongue click alone, the noble slumped in embarrassment and stepped aside.
The next noble, seeing this, turned pale.
A minor lord from the countryside, he couldn’t afford an extravagant gift.
His trembling hands held out a simple box of his territory’s specialty—golden honey apples.
He had chosen only the finest of the finest, though the other nobles had mocked him for it.
He’s going to eat me alive along with these apples… honey, I’m scared.
The country noble stood shaking, awaiting the Duke’s reaction.
