Chapter 14
Viscountess Gracia slumped into her chair, looking like her soul had left her body. She made one last feeble attempt to recover her pride.
“How could a child be so nasty…? Did the orphanage teach you that? That if you want something, you should bully the priests for it?”
“You do what you have to to survive. It’s still better than someone who builds their pride on pushing around kids.”
She shut her mouth at my sarcastic remark. After a while, her blood pressure settled, and she resumed class as if nothing had happened.
Surprisingly, the class itself wasn’t bad. I mean, if you’re going to have a terrible personality, you should at least be competent.
The first lesson was about non-verbal greetings.
Among nobles, before you say “hello,” you exchange eye contact to figure out whether it’s appropriate to greet each other, who should speak first, or whether you should just pretend not to notice each other. Complicated people.
When class finally ended, a maid came to get me.
“Young lady, His Grace the Duke is calling for you.”
“Yes! Goodbye, Madam Gracia. I’ll see you again!”
Gracia looked at me like she’d just been tricked by a fox. Why the face? I plan to behave until I’ve learned everything I can from you.
I finally arrived at the Duke’s office.
The Duke looked up. His deep blue eyes, like crashing waves, were still intimidating—but better than Gracia’s sneering gaze. Honestly, it was almost a relief to see him.
“You’re here, Sol. I trust the lesson went well?”
“Yes. Madam Gracia taught me about greetings.”
“No need to report every detail.”
You really shouldn’t raise kids.
“More importantly, the reason I called you…”
“Yes!”
Is it about the gift?
“…Why are you smiling? Because of what I said yesterday?”
“Eh-hehe… Was it that obvious?”
“It was.”
Wow, it showed on my face? I must’ve really been looking forward to it.
But honestly, ever since leaving the orphanage, I haven’t received so much as a convenience store voucher for my birthday. Even a piece of candy would make me happy.
But then the Duke’s next words wiped the smile right off my face.
“I meant what I said about behaving like a child, not an adult.”
“…Excuse me?”
“That’s what I talked about yesterday.”
Right. He did say that. That it would be a problem if people thought he was raising a dragon disguised as a child or something like that…
…So that’s why he called me?
Too focused on his paperwork, he didn’t notice my expression change.
“I understand it’s not easy to drop survival instincts you learned at the orphanage. But manners can mask that. After all, the purpose of etiquette is to standardize people into society.”
“…”
“That’s all. Go rest.”
“…That’s it?”
“Was there something else? That’s all the time I can spare today. Ask others if you have questions.”
He cut off the conversation cleanly.
Right. The gift? That was probably just lip service. I mean, giving me something and expecting something in return would be petty. I’m not that disappointed. I’m an adult… I’m…
Then I remembered what Gracia said earlier:
“You have no intention of fitting in here.”
It was something I used to hear at the factory when I was being excluded.
That time in summer, someone said they’d go buy ice cream, but somehow always forgot mine. It’s just ice cream, I told myself. How childish of them. That’s what I tried to believe.
…But no matter your age, being let down after even a small hope—hurts like hell.
One bite of ice cream on a sweltering day. Six years living in someone else’s home, never knowing what might happen. A gift I hoped for.
…As I left the office,
I felt like those tears I held back that summer were finally pushing up from my chest.
What’s wrong with me these days…?
“Um, Master. May I report something?”
The maid, Linda, poked her head through the office door. Latiger frowned. He had said not to disturb him unless it was important.
“Is it urgent?”
“Not exactly, but… we can’t seem to resolve it ourselves…”
“If it’s not important, then there’s no need to—”
“Miss Sol is crying alone somewhere!”
The Duke’s pen froze mid-signature. Not because he took it seriously.
“…And that’s urgent?”
“You told me to report any changes in her condition.”
“‘Change in condition’ refers to things like an assassination attempt, falling off a horse, or getting pregnant out of wedlock.”
“But Miss Sol’s crying seemed… unusual.”
“Even kids who act grown-up cry sometimes. Close the door.”
He ended the conversation with a command. Linda looked at him imploringly for a moment but eventually closed the door, unable to withstand his cold stare.
Latiger clenched his teeth in annoyance. Was he seriously being interrupted from his work because a ten-year-old was crying?
‘She acts like there’s an adult inside her, but I guess she’s still a child.’
Infants cry when they need something—food, sleep, a diaper change. For that kind of crying, Latiger was willing to hire a nanny.
But once a child could speak, he ordered the staff to leave them alone, no matter how much they cried. They needed to learn how to manage their own emotions.
‘That maid hasn’t worked here long. She probably doesn’t know.’
Of course, it wasn’t just Linda who had to learn the rules of this house. Sol would have to learn them too.
‘She acts mature… but she sure cries a lot.’
She got teary in the carriage too.
Still, Latiger had done his duty. He adopted her into a house second only to the royal family, assigned her a teacher. Wasn’t that enough?
He picked up his pen again. So much work to do.
‘Next meeting is with Marquis Godell. I heard they signed a wine deal with Lifram Abbey. That means Lifram wine will be served at the banquet, so the gift should be Flogel wild boar ham. While I’m at it, I should find out what the abbey’s angle was in making a deal with the marquis…’
At that moment, his pen paused.
A gift.
Something you bring when invited. Something you give for weddings, exams, childbirth.
And more importantly—
If you receive one, you must return the gesture.
In the corner of his desk sat the gift box he had received yesterday from his adopted daughter.
“Siberia, pig’s feet, spicy cheese pizza, chewy noodles with two soft-boiled eggs and sesame oil…”
I was curled up inside the closet, muttering nonstop. It was a method I’d learned at the orphanage to calm myself.
Don’t swear directly. Say words that sound like curses. Mix in the names of your favorite foods.
That way, you vent a little and start thinking about what to eat instead. Before you know it—surprise! Your mind’s distracted!
…Basically some cult-sounding self-help mantra.
In the tight-knit orphanage, fights among kids made life awkward, so the director suggested we blow off steam this way, then order food and make up afterward.
It actually worked pretty well. Eventually you started feeling silly just saying the words. It was embarrassing if others heard, though…
Wait. Linda didn’t see me doing this, did she?
I peeked outside—no one there. I kept going.
“Add rice cakes and pizza cheese to the tteokbokki… then beef soybean stew with clams and spicy peppers… snifflle…”
My anger slowly turned into something else. I wasn’t hungry, but I wanted to eat.
Does this world not have pizza? I’d settle for risotto. If there’s rice, I can cook it. I’m good at pot rice. Oh, but there’s no gas stove…
My thoughts kept circling, and in the end, I remembered what I was always left out of back at the factory…
“Ice cream…”
“Not satisfied with sorbet, are you?”
“Eek!”
A voice came from outside the closet. The last voice I wanted to hear.
The Duke of Schlayger!
“D-Duke?”
“All cried out?”
“…I’m not crying now.”
“You seem mature, but you sure cry a lot.”
“I’m sorry.”
“…For what?”
Just hearing those words sounded like the start of a scolding symphony: ‘Oh, you’re crying now? Do you even know what you did wrong? Think tears will fix it?’
But his tone was flat. Curious, I wiped my face on my sleeve and slowly opened the closet door.
The Duke stood right there. I had wiped away the tears, but I guess my puffy eyes and red nose gave me away. He clicked his tongue.
“Looks like you cried quite a bit.”
“Well… Sorry for the trouble. I know you’re busy.”
“If you’d stood outside my office crying like a protest, maybe. But otherwise, there’s nothing to apologize for.”
“…”
“Or have you been punished for crying before?”
Yes, several times. Back at the factory.
Even during the convenience store incident, when the police showed up, someone snapped: ‘Speak properly! You think I’m your therapist?’
…I didn’t say anything, but he must’ve read the answer on my face.
“Children often cry unreasonably. Seems there were a lot of people in your life who thought scolding would fix that.”
“…”
I cried as an adult, okay? And if you’re so into correcting things, maybe start with your own personality, Mr. Boomer Duke Schlayger!
Why’d you even have three kids? Well, I guess the author made you.
Anyway, since I somehow ended up as the fourth one, I figured I should go back to being the “good kid.”
“I’m okay now. I won’t cry anymore.”
But the Duke remained standing in front of the closet. I couldn’t get out.
Why wasn’t he moving?
“Your Grace?”
“Tell me why you cried.”
“Ah, well, that’s…”
I definitely couldn’t say it was because of the gift! That’d sound too childish!
…Wait, hang on. I am supposed to act like a child, right? Then maybe I should say I cried over a gift?
No, wait. Real kids hate being seen as childish. A real kid would hide it and try to protect their pride!
How should I act to look like a real kid?
While I was stuck overthinking—
“Was it because of the gift?”
“…Huh?”
He hit the nail on the head.
