§ Chapter 12 §
Longing for the chocolate the maid had taken away, I wandered into the garden.
Though I had arrived, it was no wonder this place was called the Withered Rose Garden.
As expected, the villain’s favorite haunt.
Even though it was spring, not a single flower bloomed, let alone any fruit.
They said Lagrange’s spring is more like Euclid’s winter.
It wasn’t bone-chillingly cold, but it couldn’t be called warm either.
The cool air brushing against my cheeks felt too chilly for spring. Thanks to the cold weather, even wild animals rarely appeared in this forest.
That must be why even someone like Dietrich, despite his strength, can’t eat properly.
He was about the same size as Euric, yet far thinner than the boy who lived in the lavish palace.
Well, thanks to me bringing him milk so diligently, he has put on a little bit of weight.
At the garden’s fountain, I found Dietrich settling down as though about to eat a freshly caught sparrow. Normally, I would’ve turned away so as not to bother him, but today, the savory scent of tender meat made my mouth water.
Just smelling it from the side won’t hurt, right?
I toddled toward the fountain. Dietrich, who had been gathering branches to stoke a fire, glanced back at me.
“Oppa!”
I beamed and greeted him.
“Oppa, I missed chu.”
Since he turned seven, Dietrich was often nowhere to be found—neither in the palace nor in the garden.
I didn’t have the stamina to search all of Lagrange’s castles for him, so we only ran into each other every now and then.
That’s why I have to cling to him whenever I get the chance.
“Oppa, hello.”
I plopped down in front of the little fire he had made. The warm air tickled my cheeks.
“Who said you could sit?”
“Hmm?”
“…Forget it.”
Though he didn’t see me often, Dietrich had already learned that I always did as I pleased anyway. So, he didn’t stop me.
Pretending not to notice me, he opened his mouth to eat the roasted sparrow, now perfectly cooked.
Slurp.
Looks delicious…
It was tiny, only about the size of my fist, but the sparrow looked incredibly appetizing.
Somehow, he had plucked every feather clean, roasting the plump little body to a golden brown. It smelled almost exactly like fried chicken.
It really, really looks so good…
Without realizing it, I stared blankly at the sparrow about to disappear into Dietrich’s mouth, drool dripping down my chin.
A drop fell from my jaw to the ground.
“Hey.”
“Mm?”
“Why are you drooling like that? Gross.”
“Ah, sowwy!”
Startled by his scolding, I hurried to wipe my chin.
“Sorry for being gwoss!”
“I didn’t mean you’re gross—”
Cutting himself off, he gave me a sidelong look, then shoved the untouched sparrow toward me.
“Eat.”
“Ah, n-no! Oppa, you eat it!”
“Fine.”
I quickly shook my head. I had only refused out of politeness, but Dietrich, taking me at my word, popped the sparrow into his mouth whole.
…He’s really the type who never offers twice.
I regretted it instantly, tears pricking my eyes. The chance was gone.
“Was… was it tasty?”
“Yeah.”
Ugh…
Good for you, you jerk!
I reached out, fumbling over the bare skewer, wishing even a tiny piece of meat had been left.
“What’s with your hand?”
Only then did Dietrich notice the swelling on the back of my reddened hand.
He didn’t sound particularly worried, but still—he was the only one in this palace who sometimes spoke to me without annoyance.
Really, Lancel or that maid earlier suit the role of “villain” far better.
Pouting, I rubbed the bruised hand.
“She hit me.”
“Who?”
“Oppa’s maid.”
“Hm.”
Dietrich tilted his head slightly, half-closing his eyes in thought. His sunken gaze, paired with his young face, gave him a strangely decadent air.
“You mean Jenin?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I ate chocowate. It was hers.”
As I explained, the memory came rushing back and I felt wronged all over again.
“She scolded me for stealing it.”
Ugh. My chocolate!
The golden, square sweetness I had lost seemed to shimmer before my eyes.
“I see.”
I half-expected Dietrich to take revenge on my behalf, but his expression was indifferent.
With a shrug, he dismissed the matter.
What the heck. Why’d he even ask if he didn’t care?
Just as he was about to take another bite of meat, Dietrich felt a scorching, prickling gaze on him. He turned.
The first thing he saw was light pink hair, so pale under the sunlight it almost looked silver.
Like cotton candy.
Because of that hair, Anitsha looked as if she had stuck a tuft of spun sugar on her head.
Her skin was so white, she looked like a little snowman.
Dietrich glanced at her drooling as she stared at him.
Is she hungry?
Children without combat ability were given nothing but milk to sustain themselves.
Even though he was now a successor candidate, his situation hadn’t changed much. If a candidate’s rank wasn’t high, they weren’t given food rations either.
But I always have leftovers.
He tilted his head. Anitsha had been surviving only on milk all this time.
As for himself, he rejected the food provided to candidates. He didn’t want to be a beggar living off handouts.
Instead, he survived on what he hunted.
I’ll always have something she could eat, though.
“…The maid, huh.”
In Dalia Palace, there was only one maid. She left so little impression he could barely recall her face, but she had always treated both him and Anitsha with utter disdain.
“Where is she?”
When Dietrich stood, Anitsha scrambled up as well. With her big head on her tiny body, she swayed unsteadily but managed to stay upright.
“Inside the palace.”
“Can I come too?”
“No. Stay here.”
Anitsha always obeyed his words. Nodding her little head quickly, she sat back down.
“Wait here.”
Leaving the round-eyed girl blinking up at him like a puppy, Dietrich turned back toward the palace. Lately, he had been slipping into other palaces’ shadows to eliminate candidates, neglecting “Dalia” itself.
“Hm.”
Without hesitation, he went straight to the maid’s room. Standing before the tightly shut wooden door, he summoned his shadows and tore the door from its hinges.
I wasn’t told I couldn’t kill her…
“Kyaaah!”
There was no time for her to hide who she was. The maid looked up at the sound of splintering wood and met his pitch-black eyes, dark as a moonless night.
Long shadowy hands stretched from Dietrich, wrapping around her neck as she lay lazily on her bed reading a book.
“Khk!”
Pale as chalk, the woman choked and gasped, but instead of releasing her, the boy tilted his head, staring into her eyes.
“I don’t care if you and Lancel stuff yourselves on Lagrange’s money.”
“!”
“I don’t even care if you despise me. Your actions mean less than nothing to me.”
But if Anitsha was going hungry because of it, that was another matter. It was troublesome—very troublesome—but he had never wished for her to starve.
After all, that small puppy-like child belonged to him.
Having never once had a family, Dietrich defined the meaning of a sibling all on his own, and nodded to himself.
She looks and acts just like a long-tailed little monkey.
“That’s the only reason I tolerated you.”
“Wh-why, why are you—kgh!”
“Who is the master of Dalia Palace?”
“Ghk! L-let me go!”
“I asked, who is the master of Dalia?”
Successor candidates were the rightful masters of their respective palaces, regardless of whether their mothers lived or not.
Of course, Jenin knew this. But she had never acted like it.
“Ahh!”
Truthfully, she hadn’t even realized Dietrich was capable of wielding shadows this skillfully. She had always dismissed him as worthless.
That was why others also scorned Dalia Palace.
The Lagrange family’s famed power to control demons was tied to how purely northern their bloodline ran.
Dietrich’s mother hadn’t even been a northern noble with Lagrange blood. She had been a slave. So people assumed he would amount to nothing.
“Unless you have the rare trait of living without breathing, I suggest you answer quickly.”
“…Y-you… Young Lord Dietrich.”
As he loosened his grip slightly, the maid blurted the answer.
He wasn’t like his father, Derick, who took pleasure in cruelty.
He bore no particular grudge against her either. The scorn he had endured all his life due to his slave-born mother had never mattered to him.
What a bother.
Dietrich was indifferent to others by nature. In his eyes, she was just another pathetic servant who would never dare look him in the eye once he became Grand Duke. Not even worth resentment.
That was why he had allowed her embezzlement and insults to continue. Not out of ignorance.
But harming “Anitsha,” what belonged to him, was something he could not abide.
“You’d better remember that.”
With a smile far too cold and unfitting for a child, he turned away.
Jenin tumbled from the bed to the floor, glaring up from her knees at his small back as he walked away.
