Chapter 12
Seeing Noah speechless, it seemed I’d struck a nerve.
‘But what can I do? This adult is perched right atop your head.’
Hmph.
After accepting Noah’s offered chocolate, I reassured him.
“How brave of you to face your fears. Ah, I see—you studied hard to protect your chocolate, didn’t you?”
“…….”
“Congratulations. You’re doing so well that you won’t need to feed me anymore starting next time.”
Not that it would ever happen. Study difficulty always escalates.
‘I’m a wicked adult. Heh.’
Though Noah couldn’t possibly know my thoughts, he grew solemn after retrieving his notebook, as if wrestling with a dilemma.
“…….”
A moment later:
“Lady Calliope.”
Noah’s resolute tone suggested he’d reached a conclusion.
“This part is wrong too.”
“Hm?”
His stubby finger jabbed at the circled sentence: ‘If words fail, use fists.’ Except…
‘If words fail, use fiths.’
The character for “fists” (meok) had been written as myeok.
“Oh! You’re right.”
Had I overlooked this?
Noah fidgeted but spoke with quiet resolve.
“I learn slowly. And since it’s wrong… I deserve more punishment.”
“Well… I’ll let it slide this time for your honesty.”
His pout was adorable, but teasing him too much might backfire.
Noah shook his head vigorously.
“…No.”
“What?”
Ignoring my refusal, he extended the chocolate again with trembling hands.
“Keep it. You eat—”
“…….”
Those piercing green eyes pinned me in place.
“Here.”
He nudged the chocolate closer insistently.
“…….”
“Please.”
“…….”
Goodness—was he pressuring me?
As I stood frozen, Noah’s determined expression faltered, his face falling.
I hastily took the chocolate.
“Delicious.”
“…I’ll take punishment next time too.”
Noah smiled shyly.
Does he actually enjoy being penalized?
‘Am I raising him strangely?’
Is that why his Filial Piety Meter remains zero?
‘Filial Piety Quest, hurry up already.’
I’d do anything—read fairy tales, share treats—to bond with him.
‘Honestly, it’s a reward for me.’
Humming, I tidied up.
“Let’s head inside.”
A sturdy maid approached—the robust one.
“Lady Calliope! A gift arrived for you!”
She heaved ornate boxes onto the table. Their ribbons glittered with gems and flowers, and the scent of perfume clung to them—the kind meant for lovers.
“Why would this come to me? A delivery error?”
“Your name’s clearly written. Who sent it?”
“Oh, come now—you know.” The maid squirmed coyly.
“Noah, cover your eyes. This is cringey.”
Noah obediently shielded his eyes. Good boy.
“So mean! But truly—haven’t you heard? The rumors are everywhere.”
“Rumors?”
“That you’ll soon marry Baron Dietrich Rothen.”
“Why would I wed some stranger—”
Calliope’s memories flooded in.
Dietrich Rothen
A thug-turned-noble who purchased his title with ill-gotten wealth.
Despite claiming reformation, his brutish manners earned aristocrats’ scorn.
The man who’d dragged Calliope’s reputation into the gutter.
‘That illegal potion I used on Noah’s tormentors? Acquired through Dietrich.’
His occasional help came with strings attached.
‘If they marry, he’ll drain her before discarding her.’
In , Calliope’s fate branched—one path led to prison after taking the fall for his crimes.
Originally, Calliope avoided him but had no choice:
“My lady, you must seize any chance to cure your magical incompatibility. He’s trustworthy—a associate of Viscount Kaiman.”
She endured Dietrich’s rudeness, fearing the Viscount’s disapproval.
‘Before revealing his true nature, Kaiman was her sole ally.’
A misguided loyalty, but vital at the time.
Cross-referencing memories with the original plot, a key overlap emerged—
‘Dietrich’s marriage banquet… where the silver-haired man’s accident occurred!’
In the story, Noah once asked him:
“How did you lose your sight?”
“…An accident at Dietrich’s engagement banquet. The pain started then, but treatment came too late.”
“No one helped?”
“The remedy was unavailable. The blindness accelerated.”
‘That banquet is my chance to meet him!’
My mood lifted.
“I’ll marry—but not Dietrich.”
“Then who…? Could you still pine for Duke Ortega?” the maid blurted.
Noah peeked through his fingers.
“Duke…?”
“Ah yes! Lady Calliope’s first love—Duke Ortega.”
First love. The phrase unleashed cringe-worthy memories.
‘Ugh—worst blackmail material!’
My face burned. “Ancient history. I care for neither him nor Dietrich.”
My target: the silver-haired man.
Reasons:
His count-tier status deters Dietrich.
He’s a Sword Master—a title held by fewer than five empire-wide.
In , he genuinely cherished Noah, seeing his nephew in him.
“The annex rumors are false. Spread that.”
“Y-yes!” The maid bowed.
“Someone planted this rumor. But my household won’t indulge it. You’ll enforce silence.”
“M-me? How?”
She trembled—unsurprising, given her rank: the annex’s lowest maid, treated as a servant’s errand girl.
My personal maid—a glorified bread fetcher!
I whacked her broad back. Thwack! Thwack!
“Can’t have my right hand cowering! From today, you’re annex Head Maid.”
“What?!”
“The post’s been empty. Now I’ll avoid the main house’s Head Maid.”
“But—the others’ll mock you!”
“Then prove them wrong.” Thud!
“With status comes responsibility. I’ll back your decisions.”
“My lady!” She wept dramatically.
[■■■ +1]
Garbled system messages flashed with each slap.
[Error: No prior data.]
New variables? Intriguing…
