Chapter 8
Some gossipers whispered about his shocking actions.
“He must have sold Northern secrets just to become the Emperor’s watchdog.”
“It’s the perfect revenge for the estranged Grand Duke as well.”
Many nodded at such plausible explanations, but in truth, no one knew what he had actually received in return from the Emperor.
All that was certain was that, as the emperor’s watchdog, he bit into the royal family’s enemies and steadily cemented his position among the central nobles.
Every step of the way earned him the nickname “Poison Scorpion”.
Fittingly, his office was always shrouded in suffocating silence.
Wadadadadada!
… At least, that had been the case until two weeks ago.
Hearing something thundering toward him from afar, the Count—who had been processing documents like a wind-up doll—finally paused.
Like a general bursting through a castle gate, Tiya kicked open the office door.
“Knock.”
Schurka immediately cut off the words at the tip of the girl’s tongue.
“Ah, yes.”
Tiya awkwardly stepped back, closed the door, and knocked.
Then, throwing the door wide open again, she announced:
“Permission.”
“Ah, yes, yes.”
Awkwardly stepping back once more, she closed the door and knocked politely.
Knock. Knock-knock-knock! Bang, bang, bang!
She seemed determined to keep knocking until she got an answer.
Schurka removed his glasses, rubbed his forehead, and finally spoke.
“Let her in.”
This time, with permission, Tiya charged forward and ran to his desk, her face radiating pride as she launched her verbal assault of praise.
“Father, you woke up early again today! Did you have a runny nose all night? No nightmares, right?”
Gurgle. Cough, cough, hem.
Anton, Schurka’s assistant, coughed dryly.
The father and daughter, alike in appearance, carried on their conversation oblivious to the assistant’s effort.
“Father, shall I check tonight if a monster is hiding in your wardrobe?”
“There’s no assassin in my wardrobe.”
“Then, how about reading a fairy tale?”
“My vision and comprehension are fine.”
“Then—”
Thud. Schurka finally put down his pen.
“Cut the nonsense and get to the point.”
His gaze and tone were so cold that Tiya’s legs wobbled, as if standing on thin ice.
Even Grandmother’s gaze, though cold, had a warmth hidden deep within, like small fish swimming in her eyes.
But Father’s eyes were different.
One misstep and she could fall into a void, drowning in emptiness.
Tiya bit the inside of her cheek, forcing away the welling sorrow.
Then she carefully unfolded a crumpled cheque with both hands.
“One hour of Father’s time. Requesting approval!”
Instead of a numeric amount, the cheque read:
Amount: Father’s Time
Please pay the bearer the amount indicated on this cheque.
Two weeks ago, holding the blank cheque Schurka had given her, Tiya had boldly demanded her reward.
“The taxes from a tiny estate of yours are 30 gold per hour! I’ll calculate your time hourly and buy half the value of a spirit’s egg.”
“In case you dislike instalment payments, I’ve set a period. So when? Only while I’m at the institute!”
“The faster the lockdown ends, the better it is for you, right? The reward Tiya wants is cheap, cheap. Now is the cheapest!”
Schurka had judged that the Northern epidemic would subside within half a year at most.
It wasn’t a losing business, so he accepted her proposal.
This is more troublesome than I expected.
He hadn’t anticipated her storming in every morning.
Yet Schurka was meticulous when it came to promises.
As he sat at the visitor table, Tiya quickly took her seat opposite him.
Click. A pocket watch was placed on the table, and breakfast was served.
Tiya’s shoulders twitched when she saw today’s menu. She had read the parenting encyclopaedia—no picky eating allowed.
And of all things, it was pea soup!
Still, determined to be an excellent guardian, Tiya forced a trembling smile and introduced the dish.
“Today’s breakfast is pea soup! We crush the Pea Count, boil him vigorously, and smash him so nothing remains. A truly terrifying dish!”
Swallowing hard, Tiya lifted a spoonful of the trembling soup.
“Father, do you want to see me eat pea soup? I never pick and choose!”
She glared at the soup on her spoon.
Ah, no wonder Grandmother said enemies meet on narrow bridges.
Here she was, modelling balanced eating as a carer, only to face the Pea Count.
Tiya closed her eyes and opened them, steeling herself to face this challenge.
With a fierce determination, she shouted:
“…Count, you disgusting creature.”
Schurka, tilting his coffee cup, paused. Even the assistant organising papers froze.
But Tiya’s insult didn’t stop there.
“I should grind you up, too, you scoundrel!”
“……”
“Count! I’ll crush and chew you like this!”
She swallowed the soup and glared triumphantly.
Only then did Schurka realize the “Count” she referred to was the pea soup.
Amid the tense silence, the assistant made a brief, suppressed noise and fell silent.
“State your subject clearly.”
“Huh?”
Tiya tilted her head, bewildered.
Schurka sipped his coffee rather than waste time explaining.
Time passed.
For some reason, it didn’t seem like breakfast would end today.
Looking around, all the other dishes were empty—only the first pea soup remained.
Each slow bite distorted Tiya’s face like a dried prune.
At this rate, mealtime might be extended.
Finally, to finish the 30-gold-per-hour task quickly, Schurka grabbed an extra spoon.
He took Tiya’s soup bowl and began eating it.
Eyes wide, Tiya soon clapped her hands in delight.
“Wow! Father eats pea soup well too! Anton, stamp of praise! Quick, quick!”
“Yes, here it is.”
Assistant Anton proudly presented the praise board showing disastrous results.
Tiya filled the blank grape illustrations with colour, showing off.
“This is a praise stamp for Father defeating the Pea Count! When we collect all the stamps, I’ll give an enormous gift.”
“……”
“Hmph. I said ‘gift’!”
“……”
“Don’t you want to know what the gift is? If I were Father, I’d be super curious, right? Huh? Huh?”
Schurka silently finished his soup, giving no reply.
Seeing this, Anton stepped in.
“I’m curious.”
“I knew it!”
Tiya drummed the table with her tiny hands, raising the tension.
Drum, drum, drum, drum. The gift is… none other than Tiya’s heart attack!
Clang. The Count finished the bowl and coldly rose from his seat.
“Assistant. Handle this assassin.”
“Understood, Count. Now, young lady, shall we call it a day?”
Assassin!?
“Hey, Tiya’s heart attack is amazing! Grandmother would love it too!”
Even as Anton escorted her out, Tiya’s mouth kept moving without pause.
After her harmonious breakfast with Father:
“How do you think it went, Winter? Does my parenting seem effective?”
<I don’t know.>
Winter answered nonchalantly.
She had little interest in Schurka’s reactions—her sole concern was finding his weakness.
So while Tiya diligently nurtured her father, Winter searched his office for weaknesses.
Unable to touch anything, she could only peek at documents, yielding no meaningful results yet.
Well, neither of us has achieved much so far.
