Chapter 27
Count Pavel was a man who wielded considerable influence among the Vallenor cadet branches and their retainers. As his family had been responsible for training heirs for generations, he held undeniable authority.
Every head of the Pavel family lived and died as a “Count Pavel,” a cog in the Vallenor machine.
Leaving not even a trace of one’s own name outside the ducal estate was both the fate and the pride of one who became Count Pavel.
Because of this, no matter how unqualified he might be as a tutor, it was not so simple to deal with him as they had with the baron.
Most of all, unlike the baron—who had openly flaunted his crude character—the count had yet to give anyone any concrete evidence to use against him. There were suspicions, but no proof.
While I was still quietly working out my approach, the door to Jeremia’s room opened. Noticing the commotion outside, Pavel had come out to greet me.
Looking down at me with an arrogant expression, he spoke like a strict dean admonishing a problem student.
“Lady Ariel. What brings you here?”
“What else? I came to see Jeremia.”
“The young master is in the middle of his lessons. You mustn’t disturb him.”
“I wasn’t planning to. I’ll just take a quick look at him and go.”
His haughty gaze met mine without wavering, and a sigh, almost like a groan, slipped from his lips.
“Forgive my boldness, my lady, but I believe you would do well to be more conscious of your place as a member of the Vallenor family.”
“Oh my.”
I hadn’t expected him to go straight for the throat like that.
Secretly pleased that Pavel was revealing his true colors, I asked in an almost excited tone:
“Why do you think that?”
“Direct members of the Vallenor line must live as if their personal emotions are dead. Emotions are poison that hinder sound judgment. Especially showing emotions on one’s face—like smiling or crying—is shameful. A person of your standing should move even a hand with caution, yet you walk with such a light step. To be honest, I am concerned for the future of House Vallenor.”
“Pfft—”
…Spare me.
What is this, Villainy 101? I’m dying to laugh, but I can’t.
Listening to this obsessive lunatic deliver a lecture on why even a spoonful of affection was forbidden had my laughter gauge about to burst. My jaw ached from clamping my teeth together to keep from smiling.
“My lady, you are destined to become the duchess—or perhaps the lady of the royal or imperial family. And yet you act so rashly. Especially for a woman, virtues are—”
The old-fashioned nonsense of this romance novel fossil went in one ear and out the other. As a modern person, I couldn’t agree with any of it, but since he lived in a bygone age, I decided to humor him.
I kept my eyes wide and innocent and tilted my head slightly, all the while tossing in deliberately irritating questions.
“Must I really be that way?”
A vein bulged visibly on Pavel’s forehead. If I had been his real daughter, I was sure he would have slapped me.
He let out a long sigh before uttering the one phrase I hate most in the world.
“Because it is tradition.”
Of course. Couldn’t leave out that line.
I could practically see the words flashing before my eyes: That very “tradition” you love so much, Count, is what led to the fall of Vallenor.
But, being the mature adult I am, I simply smiled and said something I didn’t mean—one step back for the sake of two steps forward.
“I see. I’ll take your advice to heart.”
“It is an honor to hear you say so. Then, may I return to my duties?”
“By all means.”
As soon as Pavel went back inside, I crouched down on the floor and let out silent laughter. Holding it in had been agony.
Unlike Mikhail, who brushed off my antics without a second glance, one of the maids looked at me in obvious fear. She seemed to know that I held real power in the household, judging by her nervousness.
Seeing potential in her as a loyal subordinate, I slipped a silver coin into her hand.
“Tell Jeremia to come to my room after his lesson.”
“Y-Yes, my lady.”
She bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the floor, then cautiously leaned closer to whisper:
“My lady, may I tell you something I’ve seen and heard?”
“As much as you like.”
“The young master said he wanted to dine with the family, but Count Pavel flatly rejected his request.”
“What’s your name?”
“Celly.”
“Good work, Celly. I’ll be counting on you.”
I gave the sharp-witted maid another silver coin. In any household, it was the servants who knew best how things truly ran.
A quick-minded girl like Celly was probably just waiting for the right moment to get in the good graces of the real power-holder.
“Mikhail, is the duke in the main residence?”
“He’s away today. He went to a meeting at the imperial palace, so he won’t be back until at least tomorrow morning.”
“A palace meeting? He was talking about nothing but love affairs earlier. Did something happen?”
“It seems so, but we won’t know for sure until he returns.”
“Whatever it is, make sure you tell me.”
A palace meeting at a time like this? Could it be about the missing Crown Prince Richard?
I mulled over the reasonable suspicion as I headed toward my room, unsure what state I’d find it in after its “remodeling.”
I’d given strict warnings, but these unpredictable beasts could do anything. I could only hope my cozy bed was safe.
Thankfully, my bed was untouched. My desk was intact, the terrace table unharmed, and even the cushions—which I had expected to be torn apart—were perfectly fine.
The only casualty was Davina’s room. The crafty creatures had chosen to hold their dominance battle there instead.
I let out a dry laugh at the sight of the wrecked room. Davina, sitting on a bed broken into quarters, grinned brightly at me.
“Sis! I can’t sleep here anymore! I’ll have to stay in your room!”
Oh, little sister, using such a shallow trick? Not a chance. Life is a battlefield.
“Davina, there are plenty of empty rooms. If you wreck those too, you’ll be sent back to the main house.”
“Heeeng.”
Davina kicked at the already broken bed in frustration, sending pale dust floating into the air like mist.
“Stop giving the servants extra work and get out here. Liri! Where are you?”
“Myaaa!”
With a clear, bright cry, Liri crawled out from under the bed, shaking himself off. Like Davina, he was perfectly unscathed and sleek.
“So, who won? Or was it a draw?”
“Huh? We didn’t fight.”
“Mya!”
“…?”
“We were just playing!”
“Myaaa!”
The two of them spouted clumsy excuses in perfect sync. Locking the two dusty liars in the bathroom, I returned to my room to savor the peace and quiet.
Later…
“Liri, I’m Jeremia. Jeremia Vallenor. I’m your big brother.”
“Myaa.”
Jeremia… actually, you’re the little brother. He’s the older one.
I stifled a laugh as I watched Jeremia create real-time blackmail material for himself. The naïve young master seemed genuinely taken with the cat and tried his best to make a good impression.
“Liri, I heard cats like these. Do you want to play with it?”
Jeremia pulled a cat toy shaped like a fishing rod from his coat, but Liri bolted under the bed like lightning. It seemed he still wanted to preserve some human dignity.
“Do you think Liri doesn’t like playing with me, sister?”
Having failed to entice the cat, Jeremia crouched in dejection, waiting for him to come out. I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh at the sight.
To think that a softhearted cat lover nearly became the ultimate mastermind of this world—how could they possibly be the same person?
“Don’t be too sad. Liri doesn’t like Davina either.”
“But I heard they played together earlier?”
“You call that playing? That was a territory fight.”
Jeremia watched as Davina stuck her leg under the bed to poke around, nodding silently while Liri’s loud hisses echoed through the room.
“Not sure which one’s the beast… Anyway, sister, I heard you came looking for me earlier today?”
“I did. But the count wouldn’t even let me see your face.”
Jeremia’s expression darkened, his thin shoulders curling inward.
“Please don’t think too badly of my tutor. He’s working harder than anyone to make me a worthy heir.”
…Such a good kid.
I tried my best not to laugh at my brother’s foolish defense.
“Of course I understand. But if things get hard, you can lean on me, all right?”
“If I lean on you, I’ll look weak.”
A frown creased the space between his brows. The word lean must have struck a nerve.
Direct members of the Vallenor line must live as if their personal emotions are dead.
Pavel’s ridiculous “wisdom” rang in my ears. Jeremia had probably been fed that nonsense for years.
No wonder he reacted so sharply to a word like lean.
Suppressing my rising anger, I forced a gentle smile.
“Jeremia, listen carefully—”
