Chapter 6

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 6

Chapter Title: A Corsage of Gratitude

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I stealthily turned my head to check my surroundings. The eyes of the Duvered retainers wavered faintly.

"Have you stepped forward for our sake?"

Such a sappy line burst from the lips of one of the more emotional retainers, leaving me flustered.

I just wanted to smack Marco, that's all.

Seeing the retainers' reactions, Marco—who had been rubbing his reddened eyelids—scoffed in frustration.

"That's ridiculous! Why would I say something like that? That kid's lying...!"

"That child,"

a low voice murmured right into my ear. It was the duke.

As the duke's gaze shifted to Marco, the boy flinched and hunched his shoulders. The duke spoke again.

"Daring to target a child under my protection."

His muttering voice was chillingly cold.

It made even me twitch involuntarily, so Marco—who bore the full brunt of that stare—forgot his excuses and swallowed hard.

Baron Jude approached, stammering, "Y-Your Grace."

"It was a slip of the tongue. He was just upset. Isn't that right? There's no way my son would speak ill of Duvered like that...!"

The duke slowly advanced toward Marco. A languid hand gripped the boy's chin.

"Since your father insists so, I'll give you a chance."

"...Pardon?"

"Even if we sear your tongue and gouge out your eyes, if you can swear on your life that your words are true, I'll overlook the audacity of causing a scene in my presence."

"......"

"Of course, if you can't prove it, it won't end with just you."

There was no way he could prove something like that.

He's basically telling him to drop dead.

Marco paled and froze solid, while the duke's eyes darkened ominously.

"I'll ask again. Is my child's word a lie, or the truth?"

"......"

The duke's presence was no joke—not something any ordinary child could withstand.

Marco's hands trembled like aspen leaves. A wet stain spread down his pants, trickling along his ankles.

"T-The truth... It's the truth."

In the end, Marco spilled it.

Baron Jude's face drained of color.

With his son admitting it, there was no room left for excuses.

The baron flung himself to the floor, bowing desperately.

"P-Please spare us, Your Grace. We've committed a grave sin."

The duke released his grip as if discarding trash, and Marco—his strength gone—tumbled to the ground.

"Remove them."

Soldiers swarmed in at the duke's command.

Even as they were dragged away, Baron Jude and Marco cried out, "Mercy... Your Grace!" But the duke's expression remained unmoved.

Having earned the duke's ire, those two would find it hard to keep a foothold anywhere in the empire.

As I watched the father and son being hauled off, the retainers gathered around me with broad grins. Their smiles were even sloppier than usual.

"How admirable you are."

"Standing up so boldly to that big-mouthed boy was a sight to behold."

"And explaining the situation so calmly—brilliant."

The retainers showered me with praise, pouring out words in a rush.

It seemed the misunderstanding persisted: that I'd charged at Marco out of fury for insulting Duvered.

My conscience pricked a little, but I decided to think of it positively.

These were the duke's closest retainers.

I'd been worrying about making a good impression at today's introduction, and here I'd done it without lifting a finger.

Plus, the duke took my side. Maybe I impressed him too.

I stole a glance at the duke.

His expression as he looked at me felt softer than usual.

Relieved, I let out a sigh without thinking. One retainer reached out.

"Are you tired? No wonder. Come here, Little One. I'll escort you to your room."

He looked perfectly kind, but I backed away cautiously.

I don't know you, mister. You're a stranger...

As I retreated with wary eyes, the other retainers burst into laughter.

"This guy. Didn't you hear? Little One gets shy around grown men. Probably scared of their size."

"But she clings right to Your Grace, doesn't she?"

"Of course. Little One adores him."

"Come to think of it, she only smiles for him."

The duke's gaze turned to me. Our eyes met, and I smiled reflexively.

This was like backing away from a wild beast without turning your back.

Don't provoke me (I won't cry), and I won't attack (kill you).

The retainers roared with laughter.

"Little One loves Your Grace so much. Right?"

"Does she."

"Even during that church story last time, she only sat on your lap."

"What..."

"Must be nice, being loved like that."

"A hassle."

Yet somehow, the duke's lips curved upward smugly.

I was just trying to get along, but that's playing dirty.

His curt assessment left me feeling down.

They say fortune comes after hardship.

Meeting Marco had dredged up bad memories, and the duke called me a hassle, but good things happened too.

The retainers took a liking to me.

They seemed to find it endearing how I'd rushed at that big boy with my tiny body to defend Duvered.

And catching the eye of those in power brought surprising changes. Even the administrators and staff started paying attention to me.

Before, I'd used whatever the servants picked out.

Since I'd be heading back to the capital soon, there was no point buying things just for me.

But now, with the staff and administrators interested, I could finally shop for my own daily necessities.

Out in the shopping district with Lea and the maids, I was buzzing with excitement.

Duvered's shopping streets were another world.

Far more prosperous than Amities or Ballua territories from my past life.

Specialty shops you'd only see in the capital's bustling areas lined the way, making it fun just to look.

A toy store too.

Clearly for noble kids—the toys on display were fancier than those in general stores.

Children emerged clutching one each.

A little lady of five or six, in a huge bonnet, hugged a plush that looked incredibly soft.

Right, they're releasing those dolls around now.

Stuffed animals in various shapes that say "I love you" when squeezed tight.

Suddenly, memories of my first life surfaced.

That doll was the one thing I'd begged my father—the Duke of Amities—for, first and last time.

[Daddy, I want that dolly.]

As I fidgeted with his coattails, Duke Amities said sternly,

[Leblain, the money for that doll could save countless starving children. Do you still want it?]

[...No.]

[Good child. Today, you've gained charity and compassion instead of a doll.]

He smiled as he said it. I loved that smile so much I never asked him for anything again.

Truth is, I really wanted it.

Eighteen-year-old Mina got it as a gift from him.

Watching her hug it and beam like a child, the duke smiled brighter than ever.

No, don't dwell on that.

I shook my head vigorously. Lea spoke up.

"Little One."

"Yes?"

"Since we're out, shall we get a toy?"

She must think I wanted one.

Lea's so kind.

She smiled gently.

"Pick whatever you like."

Whatever?

My eyes sparkled, and the maids chimed in with suggestions.

"How about a puzzle?"

"Blocks might be fun too, right?"

Toys...

My child's brain screamed Buy it!, but I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away.

No, I can't waste this chance on toys.

Forcing my gaze elsewhere, I pointed at something else. A bright red carnation corsage.

"But that's not a toy."

Lea looked puzzled, so I twisted my fingers and replied,

"The ophananage kids said to give this to the pepsons they like."

"Oh, of course. Thanksgiving is coming up soon."

In Wigzentra, children gifted carnations to their parents on Thanksgiving.

And I'd give this to a grown-up too.

To Lea!

I'd considered the duke, but remembered his "hassle" comment and scrapped that.

Can't risk annoying him more and earning dislike.

Instead, to Lea—the head maid who cared for me, the kindest person alive.

Even after dying three times and living four, gifting a corsage was a first. My heart pounded.

Gifts are all about the surprise.

Lea, oblivious, smiled and paid for the corsage.

Duvered Castle.

The duke and retainers headed to the conference room to discuss territory matters.

As they walked the corridors, the retainers chatted lightly.

"Oh, a carnation corsage. From your daughter?"

Viscount Lofner, sporting a red corsage, puffed out his chest proudly.

"Yes. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, so she pinned it on with her tiny hands."

"How sweet."

Viscount Lofner, who'd been waiting for a chance to brag, seized it.

"A six-year-old extending a carnation with those delicate fingers—makes you think that's true happiness."

He laughed heartily, and the others nodded.

"Nothing beats raising kids."

"Right? Honor and wealth mean nothing compared to a child loving their father, and vice versa."

"Exactly. Piling gold in vaults is pointless without that joy."

"Those without it are probably cold-blooded anyway, numb to emotions."

"True enough."

"Poor souls. Missing out on carnation-level bliss."

Then one retainer asked the duke,

"You must feel that happiness too when you get yours."

"Doubt it."

"Pardon?"

"Never have. Never gotten one."

The room fell silent, like cold water dousing a fire.

The retainers swallowed hard, eyeing the duke—who had three sons but had never even seen a carnation.

The duke and his three young masters were famed for their beauty and talent, yet ruthlessly cold and indifferent to others.

They weren't the type to crave affection from each other.

"W-Well, boys aren't that thoughtful. Usually, a quick 'thanks for raising me' suffices."

"Never heard that either."

"......"

Another retainer jumped in to salvage the mood.

"Words or flowers don't matter. A hug on Thanksgiving conveys it all."

"......"

The duke said nothing.

No hugs either?!

The retainers gulped.

Every word dragged them deeper into the mire.

The duke's brow twitched at their floundering. They scanned desperately for an escape, faces pale.

That's when they spotted Leblain and the maids approaching from the opposite hall. Fresh from an outing, in their going-out clothes.

And they saw it.

The carnation corsage in Leblain's hand!

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