TBMGW 9

Episode 9

Well…

There was no reason to refuse. If anything, it was good news for me.

Every scent drifting from the displayed breads was sweet.

Before I knew it, my mouth was watering. Back at the Count’s estate, I couldn’t even dream of tasting things like this, let alone covet them.

“Before I transmigrated, I ate as much as I wanted…”

Was it about five years ago that I became Sisi Grington?

Waking up one day to find myself in a child’s body was shocking enough, but to be met with nothing but scorn and abuse right after—how miserable that was.

“No matter how I think about it, coming to the Duke’s house was the right choice.”

If I had to pick the one and only thing Count Grington ever did right, it would be selling me off to the Brighton dukedom.

Gladly, I grabbed a tray and piled on everything in sight.

After all, what Ian wanted to see was surely me sweeping the bakery clean.

The smug smile on his face as he stood with arms crossed behind me proved it.

By the time I had loaded the tray with campagne, kouign-amann, jam-filled pies, and cream puffs—an entire selection of pastries—the shopkeeper was staring blankly at me, completely dazed.

“Won’t you have some too, Young Master?”

Instead of answering, Ian just waved his hand lazily and walked out first.

On the counter sat the hefty purse he had left behind, exuding its presence.

“When did he even prepare that?”

He had stormed out right after fighting with Lady Rosa, so I thought he’d come empty-handed…

The shopkeeper, who had been glancing between Ian and me in a daze, leaned toward me and whispered in a hurry.

“Y-young miss, you work at the Brighton estate, don’t you?”

“Oh my, yes. That’s right. That gentleman is my—”

“Young Master Ian! The Brighton family’s youngest!!”

He rattled the words off like a machine gun, then dropped his voice further.

“And… the possessed child.”

I knew exactly what was coming next, so I quickly cut him off before he could continue.

“I’m his personal attendant. Now, could you please ring this up? If I go back too late, the Duke will scold me. You know how strict His Grace is.”

“Oh, of course, of course. Sorry, I talk too much.”

“Not at all. These breads look delicious.”

“Well, the Brighton lands are famous for wheat farming. And they’ve got huge pastures too. Made with the finest butter and flour—taste is guaranteed! By the way, young miss, you’re really his personal attendant?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Oh dear. The wrapping is taking too long. At this rate, he’ll keep talking.

If he carelessly lets slip something unpleasant and Ian overhears…

He’ll fly into a rage, surely. If he tried to kill the shopkeeper here in the middle of the marketplace, who knows what punishment the Duke might hand down.

And Ian, so used to ignoring his parents’ scoldings, wouldn’t sit still for that.

Lady Rosa, who had already disapproved of this outing, would be furious too.

“Ugh, just imagining it is terrifying.”

Shivering, I watched the shopkeeper finally pack up the bread and speak again.

“There’s always been so many stories about the young master…”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Please.

Please don’t say anything bad. He’s right nearby!

If the demon inside him catches wind of this conversation, it’ll be nothing but trouble!

“…But I guess they really are just rumors.”

“…Pardon?”

The unexpected words made me blink.

Oblivious to my surprise, the shopkeeper tucked the bread bundle into my arms with a cheerful smile.

“Goodness, he’s the spitting image of the Duke. Tall, dashing, such a gentleman. You must feel proud to serve him, eh?”

“Uh… ah… yes…! Of course…”

Is Ian Brighton tall and handsome? Yes.

Gentlemanly? Nooooo…

“Still… better this way.”

It was far preferable to gossiping behind his back and risking Ian noticing.

Still a little dazed, I stepped outside and approached where Ian leaned against the wall.

“I’m back, Young Master…!”

The problem was that I had bought too much.

The bundles were so heavy that I could barely hold them all.

But Ian Brighton, demon-possessed heir, didn’t lift a finger to help. Instead, he just laughed at me.

“Haha! Look at you. That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.”

Well, I didn’t mind.

“You laughed?”

The moment I asked, Ian’s face soured.

“Whenever you act like this, I get a bad feeling.”

“But you just laughed, right? You said it was funny, didn’t you?”

“…Yeah, I did. Why?”

“That means your mood’s better, right? Doesn’t it?”

Peeking at him from behind the bread bundles, I caught a glimpse of his face, already expressionless again.

A pang of disappointment hit me. He had just smiled…

“But it worked, didn’t it? This outing wasn’t so bad after all, right?”

The truth was, I was pressing the point just to confirm—to prove—that his mood had improved.

It was a selfish impulse. The desire to unearth more of Ian Brighton’s not-so-Ian-like moments.

A desperate struggle to preserve whatever shred of humanity he had left.

Ian didn’t answer. He simply turned and strode ahead.

Though we were the same age, his long legs carried him so fast I had to half-run to keep up.

His back was cold, silent, and remote—as if he had never smiled, never promised to buy me the bakery’s bread.

The sudden chill left me uneasy.

“Did I overstep?”

A jolt of fear ran through me.

“How dare you overstep…”

The same words I had heard endlessly at Count Grington’s estate rang in my ears.

Ian Brighton could be far crueler than James, if he chose.

He was the final boss. The true villain. The most dangerous character in this story.

To torment me as the Count’s family had would be easier for him than breathing.

What if I had crossed a line he could never forgive? What if this golden post at the Duke’s house turned into another hell like the Count’s?

As I stewed in fear of the worst, Ian stopped dead under the reddening sunset sky.

Like when we had left the mansion, the wind stirred again. Trees and shrubs rustled against one another.

His golden hair fluttered. Slowly, he turned his head toward me.

The face I met was too beautiful, yet completely devoid of emotion.

Even with the radiant light swallowed whole, he seemed wrapped in shadow.

“Is my smiling really that important to you?”

His voice was flat, drained of warmth.

Somehow, I knew hesitating here would be wrong, so I nodded quickly.

“Cheering me up, taking me out—it’s all pointless.”

“But—”

“But what.”

“But back at the mansion… you always looked so lonely.”

My words stumbled out. Ian only stared back at me.

Those eyes were unreadable. I found myself glancing down at the ground.

“I know what it feels like… to wander in the dark every day. To live in a world where it feels like everyone hates you. Just a little.”

The boy before me stayed silent.

“That’s why… I just wanted you to feel at ease, even once.”

The stillness that followed was suffocating.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Regret bubbled up. I opened my mouth, ready to suggest we just go home—

But then crimson eyes blazed in front of me.

Anyone would flinch when another person suddenly drew so close.

I instinctively stepped back twice.

But no farther—his hand had caught my waist.

Ian wasn’t smiling. His face was even more impassive than before.

Yet his eyes, fixed on me, burned as though they reflected the glow of the sunset itself.

“…Good.”

Good? What was good?

Confused, I stared at him.

And then—

The “demon-possessed boy” finally bared his teeth and smiled. Sharp fangs gleamed into view.

Ah. That smile. I knew it. The very smile so often described in the novel.

The devil’s smile—smooth, irresistible, one that bewitched all and captured countless women’s hearts.

“From now on, you’re mine.”

It would be some time before I understood exactly what that meant.