Chapter 23

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Germs and Gratitude

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Why are you rubbing spit on Auntie’s hand? It’s dirty! Covered in germs!"

"……."

"Auntie, wash your hands! Scrub 'em squeaky clean with soap!"

Yeah. Of course it would turn out like this.

There was no way Lucian would side with me so easily. For one thing, I'd only been throwing complicated words at him that he couldn't even understand.

"Hurry up, hurry up and wash!"

……Still, I never imagined he'd zero in on that particular oddity.

"Alright. Auntie’s going to wash her hands right now."

"Hurry back!"

Lucian grabbed my hand and dragged me along.

As I headed to the bathroom, I called out to Claude, who was still kneeling there.

"My head’s killing me, so let’s talk about this later."

"……Understood."

Fortunately, Claude rose obediently. Amelia did the same.

"But no take-backs."

She muttered under her breath just before we left.

"Ah, my fate."

I washed my hands with the door closed behind me. It wasn’t some light promise—it was an Honor Oath staking the family’s reputation. Wasn’t that a bit much?

"Auntie! I said scrub 'em squeaky clean with soap!"

"I used soap. See?"

"Still not enough! Wash more!"

What exactly was bothering him? Lucian climbed onto the kiddie step stool and supervised my handwashing like a hawk.

"This won’t do."

Finally losing patience, Lucian rolled up his sleeves. Then he started rubbing soap directly onto my hands himself.

"You never even pretend to listen when I nag you to wash your hands."

"Auntie’s hands had dirt on them. So we gotta make 'em clean!"

"Fine. Do whatever you want."

I let Lucian take over my hands and stared into the mirror in front of me.

My reflection looked downright ragged. Three days bedridden had left my skin dry and flaky, dark circles under my eyes. My hair, unnoticed while I was down, was greasy as could be.

"Looks like I need a shower more than just handwashing…."

Mid-sentence, I froze as a chill spread through me late.

No way… Did I meet the marquis looking like this?

In this disheveled state?

"Crazy…."

"Auntie, no bad words!"

"I’ve lost it. Completely lost it."

"Using bad words means the germs from your hands have already gotten into your brain."

Lucian declared with grim determination—we had to save Auntie fast!—and scrubbed my hands like he was trying to peel the skin off.

My hands… They didn’t smell, did they?

He’d dropped to his knees in front of me out of nowhere, so I’d gotten my hopes up a little.

Maybe he’s fallen for me.

Fallen for me? Yeah, right.

No one could fall for someone looking like this. He might’ve even turned away gagging at the smell from my hands.

Yeah. This isn’t attraction. He’s just… genuinely grateful to me.

I swallowed tears, scooped Lucian up, and shooed him out of the bathroom.

"I’ll just take a shower. Make sure I smell nice and fresh, squeaky clean."

"Awesome!"

I closed the door on Lucian’s thumbs-up and let the rushing water wash away my sobs.

Claude and Amelia left Lucella’s room and walked side by side down the hall. Servants gasped in awe at their uncanny resemblance, but the pair didn’t hear a thing.

"Uncle, you think that’ll cut it?"

"……."

"Was the Honor Oath really the best you could do?"

"……I know. It wasn’t enough."

Three days of tearful reunions were plenty. Now that Lucella was awake, it was time to figure out how to repay her.

She was their savior, after all—the one who’d changed both their lives.

"Big Sis Lucella’s got a surprisingly timid side. How do you just hit someone like that with an Honor Oath out of nowhere?"

"……So what should I have done instead?"

"Why ask me? You’re the adult, Uncle. Figure it out."

Amelia had been thrilled to reunite with her uncle, but now the thought of parting from Lucella saddened her. The Agris marquisate was pretty far from here.

She couldn’t just drag Big Sis off to the marquisate willy-nilly, though.

After wracking her brain, Amelia came up with a brilliant idea.

Marry her.

What…?

Marry Big Sis Lucella.

If Lucella became the Agris marchioness, she’d have every reason to come live with them.

I heard she’s mooching off her brother-in-law’s family and eating side-eye glances. Let’s bring her to ours and treat her right.

Lucella was already freeloading at the ducal residence, wasn’t she? As Claude’s wife in the marquisate, she could hold her head high.

If she refuses, she’ll need a good reason. No one’s as great an adult as Big Sis Lucella, if you ask me.

Too good for you, even, Uncle.

Worried he might get shot down, Amelia pitched Lucella’s virtues hard—from firing the orphanage’s awful director and staff to visiting every three days to play with the kids.

Amelia, marriage isn’t that simple.

His voice sounded gruff, but Uncle’s face was all soft.

No, more than soft.

What’s with that look?

What’s wrong with my face?

It’s sappy. Like how Dad looks at Mom.

Uncle’s expression oozed like he’d devoured a whole tub of butter. His eyes sparkled like a puppy seeing its owner.

…A sappy puppy. Blech.

Amelia barely held back her nausea and jabbed a finger at her uncle.

Anyway, Uncle, marrying her is the only way to repay Big Sis properly.

Not wrong. To repay a debt like that, I’d need to stick by her side all day anyway.

Right? So what’s next?

…….

Just then, Claude’s eyes flashed with realization.

A maid announced Lucella was awake, and Claude bolted toward her room—impossibly fast for someone on crutches. He’d scooped Amelia up with his free hand.

Uncle, handle it right. Let’s not be ungrateful.

Don’t worry.

She’d even extracted a promise, but this was the result upon his return!

"Types like Big Sis Lucella need a slow conquest. Not hitting her with an Honor Oath right off the bat."

"Slow conquest… How exactly?"

"Wow, Uncle, seriously…."

I knew he was hopeless with women, but not this bad.

"Lure her out for some tasty food. Or invite her for tea."

"Dinner, huh…."

"If that fails, fake being sick. People always soften up around the ill."

"Hm, not bad."

Claude nodded absently, then froze. He’d just realized this wasn’t kid talk.

"They said the director and staff were awful. Guess you picked up their bad habits."

"So no faking sick?"

"Faking? I’m a real patient. Not fake."

Amelia and Claude’s bickering trailed off down the hall with their footsteps.

Maybe it was all the rest and nursing. My ragged body recovered fast.

Normally, as a freeloader, I’d feel guilty lounging and bustle about. Not anymore.

I had the perfect excuse: I’d saved the Agris marquis.

The ducal residence servants were endlessly kind to their bedridden guest—the great noble’s benefactor.

Guess I need an excuse just to get sick from now on.

I flipped the calendar on the table.

Claude had been here a week already. Winter’s end was creeping in.

Over a week since I last visited the orphanage.

The kids played fine without me, but I couldn’t help worrying after so long.

Especially Edwin, left alone without Amelia.

Shy Edwin didn’t have many friends besides her.

With Amelia suddenly gone a week now, he had to be anxious.

Guess I should drop by.

They’d told me to rest absolutely, but my fever was gone, muscles fine.

Best to bring Amelia and Lucian too.

Amelia needed to say goodbyes to her friends.

And Claude should come.

He’d want to see where Amelia lived, who her friends were.

Claude Agris. Picturing the handsome blond with blue eyes brought back everything that happened.

His abrupt Honor Oath.