Chapter 6
Stellaria Castle wasn’t as flashy as other castles, but it was elegant and modest. The inside was the same. Because of the frequent snowstorms in the region, there weren’t many windows, but the wide walls were decorated with blue diamond patterns to make up for it. The soft wool carpet from the South on the floor was a pale sky-blue, matching the overall color scheme.
When Charlotte looked up, the chandelier sparkled as if welcoming her. They said it was made entirely of platinum from the Marsha Kingdom—was that true? It was breathtaking. She could feel just how much her father had loved her mother.
Suddenly, loud thudding footsteps came from the second-floor hallway. It couldn’t be the attendants—they wouldn’t run around like that. Listening closely, it didn’t sound like just one person.
“Mommy—!”
“Sweetheart.”
“Mom, mom! That lady came at me with a big bucket full of hot water…!”
The child ran over crying and clung to Charlotte’s leg.
A bucket? Hot water? Charlotte turned to see Anna, who was carrying a large, fluffy towel.
“I think the child isn’t used to bathing. She got scared when I tried to put her into a warm tub and ran off.”
Anna didn’t seem to be lying. Her clothes were soaked, and there was a trail of water across the floor. Charlotte picked up the child and gently patted her back. The girl, who had been on the verge of tears, clung to Charlotte’s sleeve the moment she was in her arms.
Was she just unfamiliar with bathtubs? Still, the part about “hot water” didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t have been boiling—it would have been warm for a bath.
Could it be that in the North, warm water isn’t commonly used? Maybe she’s used to washing with cold water all the time…
“Anna.”
“Yes?”
“Is the insulation in the Nostri territory bad?”
“Of course not!”
Anna raised her voice and shook her head firmly.
“People misunderstand because it’s in the North, but Nostri’s insulation is actually the best in the empire! The buildings are designed with insulation as a top priority.”
“Then, commoners can bathe with warm water anytime they want?”
“Yes! A long time ago, people used to freeze to death, but not anymore.”
Charlotte frowned slightly. Then could this child have run away from an abusive home? That was the only explanation that made sense.
She’d been alone in the forest, attacked by wild animals, called Charlotte “mom,” and didn’t even know what a bathtub was. True, not many commoners own bathtubs—but to not even know what one is?
“Anna, go change into dry clothes.”
“What about the child…?”
“I’m Aria.”
“Hm?”
“My name is Aria.”
“Aria?”
“Aria.”
Charlotte blinked. The child had a name—and such a pretty one, too.
“…Aria, where are you from?”
Instead of answering, Aria tilted her head.
“Where are your parents?”
“I don’t know…”
“You don’t know?”
Aria hugged Charlotte’s neck and buried her face into her shoulder. She clearly didn’t want to talk.
Did she really not know, or was she pretending? If she had run away from an abusive home, maybe she didn’t want to go back and was lying.
Charlotte didn’t ask for anything more. Instead, she gently stroked Aria’s white hair. It was soft and fine, but also dry and rough. She figured it would be best to go down to the village and ask around to see if anyone knew who Aria’s parents were.
“Well then, I’ll give Aria a bath myself.”
“Miss! If the marquis finds out, we’ll be in big trouble!”
“Trouble for who? I’d be the one getting scolded.”
“But the marquis would never scold you, miss! Miss! Miss!”
Ignoring Anna’s desperate cries, Charlotte headed to the bathroom.
Wait… where would she find clothes for Aria?
***
“Where is that brat? Norman! Norman Winterile!”
The Winterile Duke’s mansion echoed with his furious voice.
‘Here we go again…’
Several maids returning to the main house after hanging laundry sighed all at once. The Duke of Winterile was known for being gentle around other nobles, but he was completely different with his own son and servants. If something annoyed him, or even without reason, he wouldn’t hesitate to use violence in front of anyone. And especially with his son, Norman Winterile, the abuse was frequent enough to make people question if they were truly related.
Poor Young Master Norman. But the servants didn’t dare speak up; they just lowered their heads and tried to stay out of the way.
The butler, having heard the duke’s yelling, looked at Norman worriedly. Norman alone stayed calm despite the tense atmosphere. He handed the letter he’d been reading to the butler.
“Take everyone out of sight. Make sure no one crosses Father’s path.”
“But Young Master…”
“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time. Just make sure to send a letter saying I won’t attend the Deneb family’s party tomorrow.”
“I’ll give a proper excuse.”
The butler nodded and quickly gathered the servants to take them out of the mansion. Since Norman was the duke’s only son, he’d only get slapped a few times, but others weren’t so lucky. Just last time, the head chef had been whipped ten times for failing to serve a meal on time—then got ten more for good measure.
Norman had given the chef a large severance bonus and written a recommendation letter to help him find work in a better household.
‘To think that man is my father…’
Norman straightened his clothes to avoid giving the duke any reason to lash out further. Not that it would help—his father was already furious.
This had been his reality for over a decade. As a child, he’d clung to the butler’s leg in fear, but not anymore. Now, Norman stood in front of the duke’s study and knocked. No reply. That meant it wouldn’t end with just a slap or two.
“You called, Father—”
“You fool!”
The duke’s study, filled with antique furniture, had a musty smell he called “the scent of wealth.” Norman found it disgusting, but this time he didn’t even get a chance to react.
A white, glass object flew at his head. Before he could dodge, it hit him squarely, and pain exploded from his forehead. His vision spun. He touched the source of the pain and found blood on his fingers.
His eyes dropped to the floor, where shards of the broken ornament were scattered. The Duke of Winterile had thrown a glass decoration at his own son.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?! You—!”
“Please calm down and explain, Father. What happened?”
“What happened?! You idiot!”
Norman wiped the blood off with his sleeve and tried to steady himself. He hadn’t expected the duke to throw something—he usually cared about appearances and, even when violent, never went this far. His breath was shallow and shaky, but he kept his voice composed.
Even with his son bleeding, the duke didn’t blink. He only shouted louder.
“Why did you have to mess with the Blanche family?! The Marquis of Blanche personally complained that you tried to accuse Charlotte Blanche of being a dark mage! What were you thinking?! If our family’s name is ruined because of you—!”
“…”
“You’re the heir to the Winterile family! And you tried to falsely accuse someone of dark magic! Do you realize what people will say?!”
So it was because of Charlotte. Norman’s expression, once twisted with pain, slowly relaxed.
The duke wasn’t entirely wrong. If Charlotte truly wasn’t a dark mage, then his actions would bring great shame to their family. In that sense, the duke’s anger was understandable.
But Norman had done it for a reason: to clear Charlotte’s name and keep her from becoming a target in society.
“Father, the daughter of Baron Portree was also there.”
“Portree? That lowly family? So what?”
“Lady Blanche already knew she wasn’t a dark mage. But I needed her to say it out loud, in front of witnesses. I needed her to say, ‘I didn’t use dark magic.’ You hate the Portree family, right?”
The duke clicked his tongue angrily.
“Portree’s got too loose a tongue! Nobles should know when to keep their mouths shut, but that whole family can’t! Their children are no different… Wait. You mean—”
The Portree family did have loose lips. But their rumors were often true. That’s why, even though many nobles disliked them, they kept them around for gossip.
Norman had used that. He pushed Charlotte hard enough to get her to publicly deny the dark magic accusation—knowing the Portree girl would spread the news.
“Just as you said, the Portree girl probably told everyone that Lady Blanche used dark magic to hurt the Saint. But then it was proven false. The temple surely made it official. So by the time you returned, all the nobles knew that Lady Blanche was falsely accused.”
Then, who would they blame now? The Portree girl. And those who had believed her would blame her even more, to avoid getting on the Blanche family’s bad side. Including the Duke of Winterile himself.
“Yes… You’re right. That way, what you did will be quietly forgotten!”
The duke laughed heartily. What was he so happy about? That their family name wasn’t tarnished? Or maybe because he could finally kick the troublesome Portree family out of high society?
“I must contact the Marquis of Blanche again. If I’d known this sooner, I could’ve cleared things up before Lady Blanche left. That’s a shame, but I’ll fix it.”
At that moment, Norman’s head shot up, eyes wide.
“Father, what did you say? Lady Blanche… left?”
