Chapter 39
Although Hannibal had acted as the lord since he was fourteen, it was Count Arthur who guarded the lord’s estate until Hannibal came of age, forcing Hannibal to wander the battlefields in his stead.
Moreover, because the Count couldn’t ride a horse, Hannibal had to symbolically take the lead in the cavalry formation.
From the ages of fourteen to nineteen, the borderlands of the Luto Kingdom were plagued by constant skirmishes—both large and small—as the western forces repeatedly provoked incursions.
Because his enemies dismissed the young Hannibal, he endured endless insults, threats, intimidation, and even attempted kidnappings.
Fortunately, thanks to those hardships, the region now experienced only occasional small-scale raids, with full-fledged wars having significantly decreased.
That’s why Hannibal lived with greater regard for the people struggling to survive in harsh, remote areas—people he had met and suffered alongside—rather than the comfortably settled ones in the main city of Claid.
He had no regrets about that choice.
But he had never stopped to think about how Victoria was living in Tegenes, the safest and most prosperous region in the west.
She was his half-sister, not particularly close to him, and during her visits to the estate, she would only suffer through their father’s nagging before leaving again. She never stayed long.
As a result, he’d never had a proper conversation with her.
Whenever Hannibal was home, he’d mostly spend the day hunting or riding outside, or practicing martial arts, only joining for dinner at best.
Even so, she’d never appeared as a woman wearing tattered clothes full of holes.
She had always worn neatly braided hair, glossy lace dresses, satin-ribboned shoes, and her cheeks were plump with health.
Even at the dinner table, she would eat exotic spices and ingredients that commoners would never encounter in their lifetimes.
So of course, he assumed she was living well.
And yet, every year, the only news he heard about her was—
“Miss Victoria fought with the Count’s mistress again. And the Count didn’t even try to stop her! He just gave the woman money for medical bills and sent her away. They say Victoria tried to poison her soup!”
“She scratched the woman’s face with a fire poker! The household is in chaos. Last time she poisoned the soup, and now this? How can a girl so young be so vicious? It’s like watching a beast from the desert!”
The gossip spread through the mouths of the servants, seeping in and out of the estate, and Hannibal increasingly regarded Victoria with scorn.
The idea that a thirteen-year-old girl with a pink ribbon could poison someone’s dinner was so cruel that he had only been appalled. He’d never stopped to wonder why or how it had come to that.
“Brother, you’re back!”
Even though her radiant face had clearly been that of a child.
“She said she’d bear Claid’s child! How dare she!”
Even when he’d personally seen her, eyes bloodshot with fury, grab another woman’s hair and shove her down the stairs—
Because he had once seen that same woman weeping over lost family in war, he had pitied her and despised Victoria all the more for her cruelty and violence.
But the previous day, when Hannibal had summoned Patrick to hear about Victoria, he had muttered without realizing:
“Why didn’t I ever ask?”
“Pardon?” Patrick asked in confusion as Hannibal interrupted.
“Did my mother never teach Victoria anything?”
“As far as I remember, she never formally educated her. They may have occasionally had meals or tea together, but that’s hardly education. Miss Victoria is clearly ignorant of basic etiquette.”
Then what was Mother teaching during all that time?
“Were there no other tutors or instructors? Did Father never assign anyone?”
“There was a fencing tutor once, but he only lasted two days. Otherwise, no one. And…”
Patrick hesitated, seeming reluctant to speak further.
“You won’t be blamed. Say it.”
“I once introduced a private tutor for the young lady, but the Madam rejected it, saying literacy was enough. After she passed, I made one more request to the Count, but he told me never to bring up the girl again, so I couldn’t mention it again.”
“Ha.”
Victoria Claid had lived trapped inside that estate.
She was fed and dressed well, like a prized animal, but had been raised with no proper education—left to grow up as she was.
First by her mother, then by her father.
Of course, a father who had thrown him into war wouldn’t have cared any more for Victoria.
And yet it was only now that Hannibal Claid had come to realize this. He couldn’t help but feel ridiculous.
“Why is it always you who notices what even I missed?”
Throughout Patrick’s confession, Hannibal couldn’t stop picturing Anne Pero’s accusing face.
* * *
For two months, Viscountess Deruca diligently traveled to and from Claid Castle, and Anne Pero eagerly learned from her teachings.
Victoria, too, improved her dancing day by day.
“You’re truly beautiful!”
As Victoria gracefully danced with fluttering dress hems, Anne clapped in admiration.
Anne had faithfully passed on even the finest details she’d learned from Viscountess Deruca to Victoria.
Now, Lady Claid’s movements resembled those of a butterfly.
“Do you think any young noble will ask me to dance tomorrow?”
“Absolutely!”
Anne was confident. Claid bloodlines were renowned for their beauty.
Combined with an André Chans dress and proper dancing skill, it would be perfection.
Their hours of hard work had paid off—heels blistered, shoes worn thin.
Anne clasped Victoria’s hands, and the two leaped together in joy.
Outside, in the corridor beyond the window, Hannibal stood with his arms crossed, watching them.
At first, he’d observed from around the corner. As days passed, he moved closer into the middle of the hallway.
“Young Lord?”
The window had been left open in the heat, and Anne turned around as she caught the familiar scent of cologne.
“…I was just passing by,” Hannibal said as he pushed off from the wall.
“I see.”
An awkward silence fell between the open window.
Suddenly, Anne clapped as if remembering something.
“Would you be willing to escort Miss Victoria tomorrow?”
Perhaps still riding the high from her cheerful chat with Victoria, Anne spoke with a rare bright expression.
Standing by the window, craning her neck to ask him with such an earnest face, Hannibal felt the tips of his ears grow hot.
“I can do that much.”
“Thank you!”
She immediately turned to Victoria.
“Miss, he said yes!”
Her clear, cheerful voice rang brightly in his ears.
As Anne bounced back to her spot, Hannibal smiled faintly, amused at how round the back of her head looked.
He watched as Anne took her place opposite Victoria, holding her skirt to begin dancing again.
Their eyes met briefly as the rhythm started, and Hannibal turned away.
He had said he was just passing by, after all. Time to move on.
But something caught his eye before he left.
“Anne Pero.”
His smile vanished. Hannibal turned and approached the window again.
“What are those shoes?”
“Pardon?”
He had spoken loudly through the window, and Anne looked down, then quickly brought her feet together in embarrassment.
Her skirt barely covered her ankles, and the worn-out toes and frayed heels of her shoes were clearly visible.
“Oh no! They’re so worn down! I’m sorry, Anne. Let’s go buy new ones right now. How did you manage to practice in those?”
Victoria rushed over, fussing.
“It’s alright, Miss. You still have more practice to do. I’ll get new shoes later—”
“How can you practice with heels like that? We’re going now,” Hannibal interrupted.
“Right, my brother’s right. Let’s go now,” Victoria said, eyes lighting up at the mention of shopping.
But Hannibal held her back with an outstretched hand.
“You stay and continue practicing. I’ll buy her shoes.”
“…Huh?”
His sudden interference startled both Anne and Victoria.
But Hannibal only clicked his tongue and stared again at Anne’s shoes.
“How can you call yourself Claid’s head maid wearing those?”
These were the only shoes Anne had brought from her previous post.
With no spare funds, she had worn them for over a year. She hadn’t even realized how quickly they were wearing down from near-constant dance practice.
“I apologize.”
Sometimes, a servant’s appearance reflects the dignity of the household.
As the head maid, Anne should’ve been mindful of that. She quickly offered a sincere apology.
“No, it’s my fault for not noticing earlier. Anne, I’m sorry.”
Victoria defended her and shot Hannibal a glare. But his expression remained firm.
“Why are you still standing there?”
It seemed Hannibal could not bear to let the Claid family’s dignity slip in any way.
But Anne couldn’t accept letting such a busy man waste time just to buy her a pair of shoes.
“Young Lord, you must be busy. I’ll go by myself. It won’t take long.”
“I’m heading out to inspect the lands anyway. I’ll take care of it while I’m out.”
“…Understood.”
With that much insistence, Anne couldn’t refuse any further.
