ISTV 09

Seila pinpointed a critical detail during her private meeting with Teikan.

“About the newly transferred Sir Foiser.”

“You mean the knight who sparred with you today?”

“Yes. During our duel, he dropped his sword. We ended up engaging in hand-to-hand combat. You remember that, right?”

“I saw it.”

“His hand felt strange. It didn’t feel like a swordsman’s hand.”

Seila took Teikan’s hand and gently rubbed the calluses on his skin.

“Most swordsmen’s hands are like yours, sir. But Sir Foiser had calluses in a different place—”

Unlike swordsmen, he had thick calluses between his second and third fingers.

That was a characteristic typically found in archers, not swordsmen.

“Foiser is a spy.”

He had let his guard down against the young Seila, allowing her to pick up on something suspicious.

Eventually, it was revealed that Foiser truly was a spy.

At that point, even Depelto had no choice but to acknowledge Seila’s abilities.

“Your observational skills are quite sharp.”

“Did I help the family?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then I’m glad.”

Seila smiled brightly.

“Tuition, secured!”

She felt like her chances of survival had slightly increased.

Of course, there was the incident where the vengeful Foiser tried to assassinate her, but Teikan had thankfully thwarted the attempt.

A few months later, the eldest son of the Devernon family, Demian, went missing.

Seila, already knowing where he would be, immediately dove into the Moonlit Lake.

She managed to save Demian, who had been enchanted by a monster called the Singing Mermaid, which lured people into the underwater palace to hunt them.

“I nearly died back then.”

Just thinking about it still sent chills down her spine.

Even though she knew the game’s setting and lore when she jumped into the Moonlit Lake, experiencing it in 3D was completely different from playing it in 2D.

“I almost drowned so gracefully it would’ve made headlines.”

Nevertheless, she successfully saved Demian, further solidifying her position in the family.

As a developer and veteran player of The World That Holds All Beauty (TWTHAB), Seila had accomplished all this within a single year.

“Nice. That was very Korean of me.”

Even Seila was quite pleased with her own progress.

One morning.

A disheveled-haired boy named Garen sat at the table with his legs crossed, barely awake.

The buttons on his shirt were all mismatched.

“You’ve been extending your sword training?”

“Yeah. A little bit.”

“And that’s why you’ve been late for our meeting times?”

Mary observed Garen’s mood carefully.

He didn’t seem to be in a good one.

“As you know, young master, the young lady tends to lose track of time when she’s training…”

“It’s not okay for her to like swordsmanship more than me. That’s just wrong, right?”

With his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, Garen sat in a thoroughly sulky posture.

Mary wanted to say:

‘She actually likes swordsmanship more than she likes you.’

But saying that would be asking for divine punishment, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.

Sometimes, silence is better than truth.

“I even made rice balls.”

“……”

“With tuna and mayo.”

“……”

“I even sprinkled sesame seeds.”

“Yes, they look very appetizing.”

“And I’m the one being made to wait? I’m seriously mad right now.”

“Well…”

Mary wanted to cry.

Why take it out on the powerless maid?

‘This is going to blow up, isn’t it?’

Garen looked like he was on the verge of an explosion.

One little nudge and—BOOM.

‘I need to warn the young lady.’

Mary knew how hard Seila had worked to gain her family’s recognition.

Garen was the impulsive type, often acting before thinking. This could easily escalate into a major incident.

Which was not what Seila wanted.

‘I can’t let her efforts go to waste.’

Either she had to calm Garen down or warn Seila immediately so she could take action.

As Seila’s personal maid, Mary’s head was spinning with worry.

“Young master, I’ll prepare sweet, chilled cocoa for you—with extra java chip chocolate, just the way you like it.”

“……”

Uh-oh.

No reaction, even to java chip chocolate? That meant he was really mad.

Mary tried to hide her panic and hurried to leave the room.

‘I need to tell the young lady—now!’

But then, the door opened. Seila finally arrived.

‘Oh no!’

Soaked in sweat, Seila wiped her forehead and neck with a white towel as she entered the room.

‘Oh, young lady…!’

Garen was going to blow any second now.

Mary hastily turned to look at him.

‘Huh?’

But what unfolded was entirely different from what she’d expected.

Garen jumped to his feet.

“Seila! Let’s eat rice balls!”

The sulky boy from moments ago was gone, replaced by a beaming child glowing like sunshine.

“Sorry, brother. The master’s sparring session was really intense, so I ended up running late.”

“Mmm, I just got here too.”

Mary reflexively looked at Garen.

‘Just got here?!’

Then what was I doing, trembling in discomfort this whole time?

“It’s okay. A big brother should be patient while his little sister practices swordsmanship—what’s that word again?”

“Tolerance?”

“Yeah. I’m a tolerant brother.”

“Thanks for saying that.”

“The rice balls look good, right?”

“You made them yourself?”

“Yep. Tuna and mayo. And sesame seeds too.”

Seila sat down, smiling gently.

“Thanks. I’ll enjoy them.”

“They’re super good.”

Seila popped one into her mouth and started chewing.

Garen stared at her with the intense gaze of a puppy seeking approval.

He looked tense, eager to hear her verdict.

“They’re delicious.”

“Really?!”

Seila shouted comfortably.

—Whoa. Out of this world. I haven’t had rice balls this good in ages.

“They’re not too greasy, not fishy at all—just perfect. How did you come up with this combination? It’s been a while since I’ve had food this well-balanced.”

“The head chef said I’ve got talent for cooking too.”

Seila was genuinely surprised.

‘I didn’t give him any cooking-related traits or skills.’

Yet Garen seemed naturally gifted at it—and more importantly, he enjoyed it.

“Which was better, the oil pasta from last time or these?”

“They’re totally different. I like both.”

“Really? Then I’ll make both next time.”

“You’re not eating?”

“I am.”

He said he was, but hardly took a bite.

Just watching Seila eat seemed to satisfy him.

After the meal, Seila spoke up.

“Brother, about your buttons…”

“Huh?”

Garen lifted his head dramatically.

‘That was some bad acting.’

Even Matthew, Garen’s personal valet, standing quietly behind him, flinched.

That reaction told Seila everything she needed to know.

‘Matthew probably tried to button his shirt properly, but Garen refused. Now Matthew’s watching my reaction nervously.’

Over the past year, Seila had never once let her image slip.

Whatever her inner thoughts, she had always maintained a composed exterior.

Because of that, the maids and valets found her a bit intimidating. And today was no different.

‘This is unfair.’

Honestly, Matthew wanted to cry.

He had tried to fasten the buttons correctly.

‘There was that bloodbath a year ago…’

Rumors had run wild.

No one knew which were true, but Matthew, who was hired six months ago, was terrified of Seila.

‘I really did try to button them right…’

He worried he might get severely scolded.

Based on everything he knew about Seila, it was possible.

“Brother, you’re making things hard for the staff.”

“…Huh?”

“You’re a strong person, right?”

“Of course. I’m strong.”

Seila dabbed her lips with a napkin before continuing.

“Don’t refuse Matthew’s help. You might get off with just a few scolding remarks, but this is Matthew’s livelihood.”

A pebble thrown in jest can still kill a frog.

If Garen walked around like that, it was Matthew who’d suffer the consequences.

‘It’s partly my fault too.’

Garen had an attention-seeking streak, which Seila knew was her influence.

‘If Matthew gets fired over this…’

Later, Garen might come at her screaming, “It’s all your fault! Look what you made me become!” with a knife in hand.

‘My [Constant Threat of Death] would definitely allow for that scenario.’

She had to protect her reputation and everyone around her—without losing her grace as a noble of House Devernon.

“Matthew. Fix my brother’s buttons.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Matthew, trembling, approached Garen.

His hands shook as he adjusted the shirt—this felt like one of the biggest crises in his 13 years of life.

“Matthew, I won’t scold you over something like this. Don’t worry.”

“…Thank you, my lady.”

Only then did Matthew finally relax, and his hands stopped shaking.