Chapter 6
Part 1. The Tutor and the Little Devil (5)
People can understand each other through words.
Violence should never be used under any circumstances.
Conversation is the greatest tool humanity possesses.
‘That was a mistake.’
Agnes changed her mind. Life never went exactly how she wanted it to. When the assumptions she took for granted vanished, flexibility of thought became necessary.
Conversation worked—with humans. But not all situations involved humans.
Seven-year-old Timothy was closer to a baby monkey than a person.
A beast that couldn’t be reasoned with. A monkey that never got tired of running wild. And a brat whose intelligence, while never used for studying, revealed itself in full force only during his worst mischief.
‘He’s not dumb, though.’
To understand others, one had to learn their language. And as mentioned before, life required flexible thinking. That’s why Agnes believed her actions were the most appropriate response.
Returning mischief with mischief was the first step to understanding Timothy.
There was no need to be embarrassed.
“That’s nonsense!”
“Oh my, I’m surprised you even know the word ‘nonsense,’ Timothy.”
“What do you take me for?”
“…Will you promise not to get upset if I tell you honestly?”
“Say it.”
“I thought you were like a cute baby monkey.”
“You—you dare call me a monkey!”
“Sorry. But you said you wouldn’t get upset.”
Agnes finished speaking and stared calmly at Timothy.
His cheeks flushed red as he let out squawking noises. In Agnes’ opinion, there was no way she could consider him an intelligent, cultured individual.
Even if a child was immature, they could still be reasoned with. But right now, Timothy seemed like a monkey who used spiteful pranks as his only means of communication.
‘A baby monkey with red cheeks…’
What do I do? This is actually kind of fun.
Agnes looked at the fuming Timothy and smiled brightly.
“Sorry, Timothy. I just can’t lie.”
“You—you, get out right now!”
“It’s still class time, Timothy.”
“I said get out!”
“Even if I leave, no one else is coming to help you until class is over.”
“Who said I need help? I don’t—I don’t need it!”
“Really? But…”
“What! Why! What!”
“…Never mind. As long as you’re not embarrassed, that’s fine…”
Timothy bit his lip in frustration. Agnes smiled sweetly and said,
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have released frogs on my bed?”
“So you draw on my face while I sleep? Are adults even allowed to do that?”
“Oh my, are pranks only allowed for children?”
“You call this a prank?”
Timothy glared at Agnes with eyes blazing. On his pale cheeks, written in black ink, was the word “Idiot.”
‘Adorable.’
It was a prank matched to Timothy’s level, but it was still too shameful to show to anyone who knew her.
Apparently, dealing with children also lowered her mental age.
‘No, this is a method to understand my student.’
It was an effort to speak the same language.
“Of course it’s a prank. At least I didn’t bully any frogs while doing it. Only your face ended up silly.”
“Those stupid frogs…”
“If we’d found them sooner, we could’ve saved them all. Two of them died because of you, Timothy.”
“How is that my fault?!”
Agnes paused to consider: Would it be okay to give him a little smack?
“They would’ve died anyway! They all die eventually! Of course I’m more important than some frogs!”
“You think you’re more important than frogs?”
“What?”
Timothy blinked in confusion.
“Of course. I’m a person and—”
“People are more important than frogs? Why?”
“W-what kind of question is that? Don’t you even know that?!”
Timothy’s lips twitched between ridicule and panic. Being treated like an idiot by someone else felt strangely new.
“I don’t know. Can you explain it to me?”
“Aren’t you the teacher…?”
On his tiny face bloomed a proud smugness—How could you not know something so basic? It seemed Timothy took great pride in knowing something the teacher didn’t.
Agnes had often been told as a child that her thoughts showed on her face, but Timothy was on another level. He was truly a transparent child.
“Of course people are better—they can do more things. They live longer, they’re smarter, stronger.”
“Aha.”
“So we don’t need to care about frogs or anything like that. Got it?”
“By that logic, I’m better than Timothy, right?”
“…Why would that be? Obviously I’m better! I’m a marquis! You’re just—”
“I’ve lived longer than you, haven’t I?”
“I’m going to live longer than you, you old hag!”
“And I’m stronger than you too.”
“M-maybe now, but—!”
“You’ll be stronger than me someday? How can you be so sure? There are plenty of gentlemen weaker than me, you know. I may not look it, but I’m pretty strong.”
Agnes gave a serene smile.
In fact, even at twenty-one, Marquis Reynold wasn’t strong at all. Not only was he weak, but also sickly. He drank and partied all night, so there was no way he could’ve built any stamina. Maybe the reason he never picked up Rachel and Eren was because he didn’t have the strength to lift them?
‘It’s childish fantasy to believe everything improves with age.’
People don’t change unless they make an effort. It’s so easy to get worse, but so hard to get better.
“Still! Your status is lower than mine!”
“Then Timothy, does that mean everyone with a higher status than you is automatically better than you? Is it okay for them to bully you however they like?”
“…What are you even talking about?”
“Think about it yourself, Timothy.”
“……”
If he even slightly sensed how flawed his argument was, that alone was progress. Agnes constantly had to remind herself that the brat in front of her was only seven.
Despite being strong-willed and stubborn, Timothy was surprisingly clever for his age. His vocabulary was broad, too. A real surprise.
‘How does someone like this grow up to be such an idiot…’
Then again, he seemed to use all that cleverness just to torment others.
“You’re seriously weird…”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Do normal adults go this far? Just for a prank…”
“A prank? Do you want to play with me, Timothy?”
“W-who said that!”
“You just want to get rid of me by tormenting me, right?”
“O-o-of course…!”
“I think you’re smart, Timothy.”
“…Are you flattering me? Compliments won’t work on me!”
“I think smart people should be respected. Don’t you?”
“Of course!”
His tone was completely different from his earlier “of course.” Though he claimed compliments wouldn’t work, the corners of his lips twitched upward. Agnes tried hard not to laugh.
“That’s why I’m doing this. I’m trying to respond in your way.”
“……”
“Do you think I enjoy this?”
“…You’re just saying the same thing again. It’s nonsense…”
“You know how to use the word nonsense?”
“Are you calling me stupid now?”
“It’s not a flaw to not know something at your age.”
Agnes doubted even twenty-one-year-old Marquis Reynold knew the word.
“Want to try using it?”
“No.”
Timothy lifted his chin and scoffed.
“Is it because you don’t know how to spell it…? That’s okay. Just knowing it is impressive. You only need to use it when appropriate.”
“Give me paper.”
“And a pen? Do you have ink?”
“Give it to me! All of it!”
Agnes handed over some prepared paper, and Timothy dipped the pen into ink, writing nonsense in large letters. The spelling was correct, the handwriting surprisingly neat.
‘From what I’ve seen, he doesn’t seem to have received any proper education at all…’
Apparently, that wasn’t entirely true.
“There! See? Amazing, right?!”
“Wow! That’s really impressive, Timothy!”
“Hmph!”
Though he said praise wouldn’t work, Timothy loved it more than any child. Agnes felt a little sorry seeing the word on his cheek, but he’d already forgotten it—and no one in this mansion would dare mock the young master marquis, so she let it go.
‘Sometimes you have to experience consequences to understand your own misdeeds.’
Agnes could tolerate being pranked herself. But killing frogs? That needed to be corrected.
‘And he’s kind of cute too.’
The way he tried to hide his twitching smile while forgetting about the ink on his face—it was genuinely adorable.
“What are you staring at?”
“Nothing.”
Timothy looked at Agnes, who was giggling at the paper that said “nonsense,” as if she were completely crazy.
“Seriously, you’re so weird.”
