Unconsciously lost in thought, he shook his head vigorously.
No. It’s comfortable. No chirping voices. No wiggling behinds scurrying around. How quiet and peaceful.
Comfortable. Absolutely comfortable.
Calek twisted his body awkwardly as he gripped a crystal glass.
“Your Grace.”
At that moment, Ruska approached, lowering his voice.
“What is it?”
“It’s about that mage from the Magic Tower. The one Lord Blaine mentioned.”
Calek straightened his posture.
“He didn’t seem suspicious at all. Just an ordinary mage who recently advanced from apprentice to junior rank.”
“……”
Blaine, unsettled by Ririn’s excessive nervousness, had ordered the mage to be tailed.
Calek, who also found the Magic Tower irritating, offered his support.
“…I see.”
Had it all been a false alarm?
“Still, keep monitoring the Magic Tower.”
“Yes. But… There’s been no unusual activity. No matter how deeply we investigate, nothing stands out. The labyrinth incident might’ve been random.”
“…Well, meeting the head mage at the talks should give us some clarity.”
Calek summoned the head mage, second only to the Tower Master.
He intended to pry into the mind of that reclusive badger holed up in the tower.
To do so, he’d even borrowed a sacred artifact exclusive to temples from a priestly acquaintance.
“What’s the status of the Repi Village fire?”
Ruska’s eyebrows dipped sharply.
“My apologies. The investigation continues, but no traces have been found.”
Calek lightly pressed his forehead.
“Now that I think of it… There have been frequent fires lately.”
“Ah, Norton’s General Store seed warehouse also burned down. Ririn couldn’t procure seeds there, so she went to Florin’s gardening shop…”
Ruska added quietly, as if struck by realization:
“We’ll investigate the unexplained fires more thoroughly.”
After scribbling in his notebook, Ruska slid the silver tray he’d been holding toward Calek.
“The main update… Duke Summerrain has confirmed he won’t attend the talks.”
Calek’s brow furrowed.
“Hah. He had me host in his stead, yet plans to rot in the south? That bastard.”
“Well, yes…”
Ruska scratched his chin.
“Unclear on details, but it seems he’s lost something critically important.”
Calek smirked and sipped his bitter liquor.
Lost a family heirloom, perhaps?
Then again—
Fitting for that blockhead.
“Hahaha! Sir Calbek! Long time!”
“It’s Calek, Lord Soleo.”
“Ah, my apologies! You grow handsomer each time! Let’s race horses soon, Sir Calmen!”
“It’s Calek, Lord Soleo.”
The memory of that boisterous, sun-baked face—always laughing, always grating—flooded him with irritation.
Serves him right. May he never find it.
Though hosting the talks was a hassle, the petty satisfaction soothed him.
“Read the letter yourself.”
“A letter too?”
Ruska handed over the sealed envelope. Calek tore it open with a scowl.
Bold, sprawling script mirrored the writer’s personality:
Hey Duke! First, unknit that brow. Handsome men should smile!
His fist clenched.
You’ve heard by now—I’m in a bind. Sending Count Florin as my representative. He’s in the capital.
Pity I can’t confirm those rumors about you adopting two kids. Next meeting, spill the details.
PS: Hosting the Four Dukes’ talks atop the Southern Labyrinth mess—I owe you. Will repay someday.
Thanks ever so, pretty boy…
Calek snorted. “Rare honesty,” he muttered, flipping the page.
Sir Calson.
He tossed the letter into a candle’s flame.
“Your Grace? Perhaps some calming herbs—”
“We’re leaving.”
The pipe attendant blinked.
“So soon?”
“The chairs are torture. The air’s oppressive. Dark, gloomy venues are passé. Modernize, Master.”
“Eh?”
“Wider windows. Cheerful music. This place has zero healing vibe.”
Muttering, the Duke vanished in a gust.
Ruska muffled a curse and hurried after.
Calek strode swiftly to…
An empty garden.
She left after waking—shouldn’t she be here?
Baffled, he returned to the main building. Upon opening his office—
“What are you doing?”
A large hand gripped his forehead.
“Cleaning!”
A pink candy-turned-cleaning-fairy beamed up at him.
“Who let you hold a duster with injured hands? A rag? That is a rag—!”
Nagging ×100
Ririn plugged her ears.
Predictable.
Calek’s mouth ran autonomously as he groaned internally.
Most chaotic lifeform alive.
What even is parenting?
Yet oddly, the irritation felt… comforting.
When had it started?
His perpetually taut nerves easing. The mansion—once just a workplace—now feeling like… home.
Was it after the eastern forest cabin?
No.
When this runt started roaming the halls…
“What nonsense is this?”
“Heh. Well…”
Hopeless case.
Her memory remained intact. Facing her daily reinventions was exhausting, yet…
He no longer sought solace elsewhere.
“I wanna invite a friend to the talks!”
“My headache…”
Cancel. Take me back.
“Hup!”
My eyes snapped open!
After returning home, my bandaged finger got meds that made me drowsy. A short nap later—
“Ririn! Cleaning’s my job!”
Swish swish.
Kate glared, but I’m no pushover.
“Sorry, Kate-unnie!”
This was a battle for survival.
I climbed Dad’s chair, scrubbing his desk. Even the head maid failed to stop me.
“What’s gotten into you? Your finger—!”
“It’s just a scratch!”
“Don’t stop me—I’ll go berserk!”
Scrub scrub.
“Sigh… Did a cleaning fairy story inspire this? Fine. Use this.”
The head maid gave me a silky-soft rag.
“Whoa! Why’s this rag so nice?”
“For junior maids.”
“Wow!”
Oblivious to Kate tidying nearby, I focused on one goal:
Impress Dad!
The Wintervalt Ducal House rewards initiative. I needed a favor.
“What. Are. You. Doing.”
Dad entered, eyeing my duster and rag.
“Welcome home, Lord Duke—!”
I botched a maid’s greeting.
“Mumbling nonsense?”
“Still memorizing it!”
“Is this courtesy or mockery?”
He froze, spotting my cleaning tools.
Uh-oh. Nagging imminent—
3… 2… 1…
The head maid and Kate fled.
