Chapter 3
Part 1: The Governess and the Little Devil (2)
“Y-you can start work tomorrow, Miss.”
“It won’t make much difference if I start a day earlier.”
Agnes replied coldly, walking forward like a warrior heading to battle. Carlo, the butler, hurried after her, flustered. He hesitated to touch her without permission, so he awkwardly reached out, only to quickly step ahead of her with his long legs and block her path.
Agnes sidestepped him like avoiding an obstacle.
“Miss! You haven’t even signed the contract yet!”
The composed gentleman’s face had turned haggard in just a few minutes.
“You’ve already agreed to hire me, haven’t you?”
“…Several others said the same thing and then ran away immediately.”
The wrinkles on the elderly butler’s face were full of fatigue and past hardship. To Carlo, the source of the recent chaos in the garden wasn’t a seven-year-old boy, but a monster from myth and legend.
Agnes looked at him with a sympathetic gaze.
‘That’s understandable. It really is…’
It would be hard for anyone, especially at his age, to deal with a brat like that. The Marquis and Marchioness of Reynold had passed away suddenly, and the poor butler had surely never imagined he’d end up raising a child.
Agnes spoke solemnly.
“Don’t worry. I’ll never run away.”
“Miss…”
This was more than just education—it was a matter of survival.
Butler Carlo was moved to tears. To Agnes, all the misfortunes to come were mostly due to that pea-sized brat growing up without ever learning manners or proper values.
There were other intertwined problems too, of course, but that was the root.
So, eliminate the root.
Agnes believed that children were the responsibility of adults.
Children were mirrors of the adults around them. She believed that if you offered guidance and kept persevering with sincere conversations, even immature children would eventually understand.
“What the hell are you?”
A boy, tall for his age of seven, stood with a defiant posture, glaring up at Agnes. He looked at her as if she were an annoying obstacle that had suddenly appeared in his way—not with the respect due to an adult.
As she met his green eyes burning with hostility, Agnes could almost hear the sound of her hard-earned principles as a tutor crumbling.
If it weren’t for this brat, I wouldn’t have died!
‘No, no—he’s just a child. He hasn’t done anything wrong yet.’
If she approached him with genuine care, he would understand eventually. That was what she believed.
“So, you’re the new teacher, huh?”
The boy propped a hand on his hip and scanned Agnes from head to toe. After a full sweep of his eyes, a snide laugh burst out.
“Old man, didn’t I tell you not to bring home ugly people?”
Honestly… maybe he’ll never understand.
* * *
The seven-year-old Marquis of Reynold, Timothy Evan Reynold, was by far the worst little devil Agnes had ever met in her years of tutoring.
And just to be clear, “worst” here wasn’t a compliment.
“How can you speak to an adult like that?”
“Why? I just told the truth.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“That you’re ugly.”
“Young master—no, may I call you Timothy? Timothy, you must—”
“Who told you you could say my name? Old man! Get this woman out of my sight!”
It was an arrogant command no one would expect from a seven-year-old. Agnes took a deep breath.
‘I must not lose my temper.’
Timothy threw a large bug he had been holding to the ground. A young maid who had been hiding behind Carlo let out a relieved sigh.
Agnes glanced at the maid and said,
“You shouldn’t torment someone just because they’re of lower status, Timothy. Especially if you know they’re scared.”
“I said don’t call my name! Old man! Call the guards!”
“Sorry, but I’m officially employed starting today, and the butler can’t just kick me out. Now, Timothy, apologize to that girl.”
“Are you insane?”
“Timothy.”
“I said kick her out!”
“I said I’m not leaving.”
“Then I’ll make sure you want to quit yourself.”
“Apologize, Timothy.”
“If I have to look at someone as ugly as you every day, my eyes will rot.”
Agnes had wrongly assumed a seven-year-old would be reasonable.
“You’re really not going to apologize?”
“To who?”
Timothy dug at his ear, giving Agnes a sly look as if calculating how annoyed she’d be.
“To that maid. You knew she was scared and you still scared her on purpose.”
“And she thinks she deserves an apology from me?”
“If you do something wrong, you should apologize, Timothy.”
“Wroooong?”
He gave a mocking laugh, then quickly ran over to the maid hiding behind the butler.
“Hey, you tell her. What did I do wrong?”
“Y-you didn’t do anything wrong, Young Master…”
“See? Even she says I didn’t do anything! Who do you think you are to butt in and demand apologies?”
Agnes shook her head.
“You shouldn’t force someone either.”
“How funny. I’m better than her. You, the old man—you’re all beneath me. So of course you have to listen to me.”
‘How am I supposed to fix this awful little monster’s personality…’ Agnes felt faint.
“Sure, Timothy, you have the highest status among us. But so what? Just because your status is high doesn’t mean your wrongdoings disappear—”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying! Hey!”
“Y-yes, sir?”
The maid flinched, her eyes filling with tears. She looked pleadingly at Carlo, but he had no solution.
That was the problem.
The reason Timothy had grown into a tiny tyrant was because of his noble status.
Despite being so young, Timothy Evan Reynold had inherited the marquis title after his parents’ deaths. Even without the title, he was second only to the duke in the entire estate.
“Carry this and follow me.”
“T-this?”
“This.”
Timothy wiped his bug-stained hands on his pants and kicked the large bug on the floor.
‘Of all things to pick up, why that?’
It made sense why the maid had tried to run away. The bug had dozens of legs. Timothy looked at the maid, trembling in fear, with a smug, cruel satisfaction. He knew she hated it. That’s why he did it. Agnes clicked her tongue.
What a nasty little brat.
Agnes calmly bent down and picked up the bug for the maid.
“Hey!”
“I picked it up for you. Where should I bring it?”
“Who told you to touch it?!”
The bug was still twitching, but Agnes didn’t even blink. She wasn’t scared. Bugs couldn’t kill her.
Timothy—and even Carlo—stared at her in shock.
‘What’s so scary about touching a bug?’
Timothy, who had casually picked up the bug earlier, now jumped when Agnes held it up to his face.
“Get that thing away from me!”
“Timothy, should I follow you to your room with it?”
“I said get it away!”
He tried to swat it away, but Agnes dodged easily.
‘Ah, so that’s it.’
Agnes smiled brightly. The boy had gone through the effort of catching the bug just to scare the maid, but didn’t want it near his own face.
He liked clean things—just like most kids raised in wealthy households.
Even when he came home from gambling and drinking all night, he’d wake the servants to prepare a bath. He wasn’t handling the bug out of bravery—it was just to torment others.
‘Should I praise his dedication, or scold him for going that far just to harass people…’
Agnes held the bug right in front of Timothy’s nose.
“AAAH! GET IT AWAY!”
“What’s wrong, Timothy? Shouldn’t we go back to your room? You can lead the way—I don’t know the way there.”
“You think I’ll let that thing in my room?!”
“Didn’t you say to bring it?”
“Of course I meant to throw it out!”
“You didn’t say that. Alright, let’s go!”
“AAAH! I SAID STAY AWAY!”
Timothy began backing away slowly.
Agnes smiled. She felt a bit guilty scaring a child like this—but it was also strangely satisfying. After all, she hadn’t entirely let go of the resentment of having died because of the Marquis.
Agnes was an ordinary person. It had only been a month since she came back in time. As she smiled lightly, Timothy ground his teeth.
“Ugly freak, acting all high and mighty!”
There was a loud thud as he kicked her shin hard. Agnes saw stars from the pain.
“Ugh!”
“Serves you right, ugly!”
At least his insults were still simple—he hadn’t learned any creative curse words yet. The bug dropped to the floor with a plop. As Agnes crouched in pain, Timothy stomped the bug hard.
There was a sickening crunch.
“Gross!”
He shuddered and threw off his shoe in disgust—despite being the one who stepped on it.
“Don’t show your face to me ever again! You’re so ugly I could puke!”
“Oh, is that so…”
Agnes had always tried not to lose her smile in front of children.
‘I’m not mad. Not mad at all. Really. I shouldn’t get mad at a kid!’
It wasn’t right for an adult to get seriously angry at a child’s immaturity. Timothy sneered. Agnes picked up his discarded shoe—it was sticky with bug guts.
“How lucky for you, Timothy.”
“What…?”
“Classes officially start tomorrow, but it seems there’s something I need to teach you before then.”
“You’re… you’re crazy! Old man! She’s crazy! Get her out of here! Can’t you see!?”
As Timothy screamed, Agnes stood up. Carlo and the maid looked at her nervously. She quickly caught up to Timothy, who was backing away, and wiped the bottom of his shoe on his back.
Timothy’s pale face went even whiter.
“Outside, you need to wear shoes, you know!”
“Gasp!”
“Here, let me help you put it back on! Oh dear?”
“Get away from me, you crazy ugly woman! Let go!”
Frozen in fear, Timothy screamed and shoved her away when she brought the shoe near. Agnes immediately stood and chased after the fleeing boy.
“Where are you going, Timothy? I’m trying to help you put on your shoe!”
“AAAAAAH!”
She wasn’t angry—but she couldn’t help laughing. Agnes let out a cheerful laugh.
“Get away from me!”
“Come back here!”
The tide had turned.
