The Noble Kindergarten Teacher’s Daily Struggles
Episode 004
“W-wait, just a moment!”
“There was dust.”
“You mustn’t…! …Huh?”
His hand brushed past her ear, flicking something away.
“Dust.”
“Ah… y-yes. Thank you.”
The way he grinned—so fresh, yet so infuriating. Acting as if dusting her off was nothing, he gave a casual shrug.
“You should come to the Imperial Palace sometime.”
“Yes, the palace… I underst—wait. What? The palace?”
“Think of it as a home visit.”
What kind of parent forces the teacher to come for a home visit?!
Could this be an excuse to pull something shady? Like a “Come over for ramen” situation?
This was bad. She needed to draw the line before he turned this into some weird advance. Efna’s voice came out sharp:
“Forgive me, but I cannot meet guardians privately.”
“A teacher who calls a home visit ‘private’—that’s new.”
He scoffed, but Efna pressed on firmly.
“Besides, I don’t even like ramen. I was so poor once I ate nothing but instant noodles three meals a day, and now I can’t stand the sight of them.”
“I’ve never heard of this ‘ramen,’ but in any case—I wouldn’t want my brother’s teacher to starve herself and weaken. The quality of education would suffer. Would one personal chef suffice? Or ten?”
…Somehow, this conversation was veering wildly off course. And now he was talking about bribing her with cooks as if it were nothing!
There was so much she could criticize in his words, but instead she cleared her throat softly.
“Ahem.”
Right. Clearly, I was just imagining things.
Efna smoothed her hair as though nothing had happened.
“May I ask why exactly you require a home visit?”
“Because we need to talk alone.”
See?! I wasn’t imagining things! This is absolutely a ramen invitation in disguise!
“You mustn’t—this isn’t good, it’s… troublesome!”
“There are too many ears out here. It’s difficult to speak about Maxion freely. I can’t very well go around cutting off everyone’s ears, can I?”
He chuckled, words chilling despite the humor. And now he was suggesting an unscheduled “off-site meeting.”
I want to refuse so badly!
But she had already pushed her luck too far to outright deny him now.
Efna forced herself to nod. At her reluctant agreement, his face lit up in satisfaction.
“Then I’ll take that as settled. I’ll be going now.”
“Ah… yes, of course…”
As he buttoned his cufflinks, looking supremely pleased with himself, Efna felt only cheated.
She gave him a shallow bow as he prepared to leave, muttering under her breath, barely audible:
“Goodbye, Your Majes—”
“Majest…?”
Keen ears, of course.
“…ty.”
And so he left, smug at having wrung a proper farewell from her. His retreating back, radiating self-righteous dignity after turning her into a mess of flustered thoughts, was unbearably irritating.
Life—who would have guessed?
That in a romance-fantasy world, she would end up as a kindergarten teacher making “home visits” to the Imperial Palace.
✦ ✦ ✦
The evening routine of an overworked office worker:
Drop your bag. Eat whatever you can grab first.
“A ball?”
Efna’s tone was skeptical. The silver-haired noblewoman opposite her—hair swept into a neat bun—nodded while slicing potatoes.
“Yes. Countess Gedden is hosting a charity ball. I was hoping you might accompany us.”
“It’s not difficult, but… wouldn’t it be a problem if someone recognized me?”
“That is my concern as well. It is a masquerade ball, but if it troubles you, you needn’t go.”
A masquerade, then… maybe she could manage.
Efna set down her fork and rested her chin in her hand, thoughtful.
Still, if anyone recognized me, it would be dangerous…
Her past was anything but pleasant—dark enough she preferred never to recall it.
Five years ago, she had fled both her family and her fiancé.
The one who had taken her in, treating her like a granddaughter instead of discarding her to the streets, was none other than the Baroness Belchester seated before her.
Even now, her father might still be searching for her. If anyone discovered her identity, it would spell trouble.
But then again…
It’s not such a hard request. How could I refuse her?
With a faint smile, she teased lightly:
“You’re just worried about sending Second Brother alone, aren’t you?”
“Yes. He’s at marrying age and yet still roaming about causing trouble. I worry he’ll ruin his reputation and never find a bride. So, my dear granddaughter Efna, will you go with him?”
Sometimes Grandmother was terrifying—especially when she shredded someone’s pride with blunt facts.
If Brother heard that, he’d sulk for days about how unfair she was.
Why was he the only one treated like a proper K-drama sibling? Still, thanks to him, Efna had adjusted smoothly to life in the Belchester household.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin and asked,
“When is it?”
“Six days from now. Will you manage?”
“Six days…?”
Of course. Just her luck.
“That’s the day right after the weekend…”
Notoriously cursed overtime Mondays.
“If it’s too much, don’t worry…”
But this grandmother could out-stubborn even the devil. Her kindness and shelter had been too great to refuse.
Efna smiled faintly.
“I’ll try to rearrange my schedule.”
The baroness’s face eased in relief, as though a weight had been lifted.
She really was that worried, huh. Second Brother is definitely a handful.
Shaking her head, Efna cut the rest of her lamb.
After dinner, she went up to her room, picked up her bag, and—
Thunk. A fountain pen slipped out and rolled under the dresser.
Flattening herself on the floor, she stretched to reach it—then paused.
“Hm?”
There was something else under there, besides the pen. Leather?
Scrape. She pulled it free. When she saw what it was, her face stiffened slightly.
“So it was here…”
A diary. The leather-bound journal she’d brought with her when she fled her family five years ago.
I’d forgotten, I’ve been so busy…
Her pale hands flipped the pages, and her mind drifted back to that buried past.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Did you hear? Master is going to register Lady Lilien into the family records.”
“What? But Lady Lilien is Madam Rastina’s daughter—the mistress’s child! And she’s only been in the estate for a month!”
“So what? That doesn’t matter. Lady Lilien has it.”
The gossiping maid suddenly lowered her voice.
Other maids wringing rags from a bucket leaned closer.
Soon, a hushed whisper rippled between them:
“‘Talent.’ That thing Lady Efna will never have, not even if she were reborn!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down, Sirian! If Master hears, he’ll thrash you and throw you out! Don’t you know? He forbade anyone from ever mentioning Lady Efna, called her the disgrace of the family!”
One maid clutched her broom, stricken. But the one who’d spoken remained calm.
“Did I say anything false? Honestly, isn’t it true? A Windyster without ‘talent’? Aren’t you all suspicious if Lady Efna is even really of Windyster blood?”
“Well… that’s true. Honestly, Lady Lilien feels far more like a true Windyster than Lady Efna.”
Yes. More like a true Windyster. More fitting of a high-born central noble house.
The maids pretended indifference, but their eyes sparkled like office workers on Friday evening, thrilled with juicy gossip.
There was nothing they found more entertaining than the scandals of their masters.
Unaware that their “lady” was listening.
“What does it mean… to be a true Windyster?”
“Eek! Lady Efna—when did you—?”
“Do you truly not know? You’ve worked in this mansion long enough. So tell me. What is it that makes one truly Windyster?”
Her sharp eyes demanded the answer.
When no reply came, Efna leaned closer.
“Normally I like repeating myself three times to children who don’t get it the first two, but right now, I have no patience. I’ll ask just once more. What makes someone a true Windyster?”
