Chapter 7 titled “Chapter 1: The Tutor and the Little Devil (6)”:
“You did very well, Timothy. As a reward, I’ll give you snack time.”
Agnes pretended not to hear Timothy muttering to himself.
“…We always have snacks at three o’clock. How is that a reward?”
“Go to the butler and ask for your snack, then come back. You must return by four.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why should I…”
Timothy instinctively reacted with rejection and defiance to anything anyone said. Agnes smiled gently.
“Are you planning to run away?”
“What? Who said that?!”
The fact that he fell for such an obvious provocation was very childlike.
“If you want to run away, you can.”
“……”
It had already been ten days since Agnes started looking after Timothy. In that time, she had learned a few things about the seven-year-old Timothy Evan Reynold.
He often played childish pranks.
He hated bugs as well as amphibians.
Even if he hated something, he’d endure it just to pull off a prank.
And when he was hurt—not angry—he wouldn’t say a word but would just glare at the other person. For example, when he heard something that sounded like someone was giving up on him.
Even if it wasn’t meant that way, Timothy was more easily hurt than expected.
Agnes reached out and gently stroked Timothy’s soft hair.
“If you’re not back by 4:10, I’ll come looking for you.”
“…Who says you’ll catch me?”
The response came a little late and was sullen, but the sharpness was gone.
‘I think I’ll grow attached to him faster than I thought.’
How much longer would it take for him to open up? No need to rush—she just needed to take her time.
“Hmph!”
Timothy stomped out without looking back. Agnes pulled out her pocket watch to check the time and quickly headed off.
She now had one hour and ten minutes of free time. But even during that, she couldn’t rest.
Because she had not one student, but two.
*
Ten days.
A short time, if short, and long, if long. In that time, Agnes had learned a fair bit about the members of the Battenberg estate. Many people had shown interest in her as the new face, allowing her to hear various stories.
Knowledge is power.
Agnes welcomed everyone who approached her with a smile.
Timothy had come to the Battenberg estate a year ago. It was not long after the Marquess and Marchioness of Reynold had died in an unfortunate accident. He had arrived immediately after the funeral.
At first, people pitied the poor child who had lost his parents, but that didn’t last. His behavior over just one year was so outrageous that the number of tutors he had driven out was already nearing triple digits. There was even a time when five tutors fled in tears within just three days.
Agnes could understand why the butler, Carlo, had insisted on signing a contract first. People referred to Timothy as the reincarnation of a demon, a walking disaster.
She understood.
There was only one person in the entire mansion who could stop this child, who threw around his status, verbally abused others, and sometimes even hit them.
And that one person had absolutely no interest in Timothy. So, those who couldn’t stop him simply had to endure.
Still, Timothy—though bratty and mean—clearly had potential for improvement. Even at his worst, he hadn’t abandoned Rachel and Eren. He couldn’t care for them directly but had hired people to help.
She could not forgive the things he said while drunk, though.
Timothy feared only one person—his uncle. A child who never shrank back in front of anyone became timid before his uncle.
He was trying to read the mood. It seemed like he didn’t want to be hated. Strange, for someone who acted in ways that inevitably drew others’ ire. To Agnes, all of Timothy’s loud defiance seemed like desperate flailing for the attention of an indifferent uncle.
A child who had lost both parents overnight wanted affection from a guardian.
Usually, even if it was just out of pity, someone would check on such a child once or twice, offering at least a grain of affection…
But the Duke of Battenberg, Ethan, had no interest in children whatsoever.
The mansion staff all agreed on one thing: Ethan was a man of iron, interested in nothing but duty and swordsmanship.
Work, training, work, training.
A flawless man who didn’t drink or gamble, but also had no hobbies.
To Agnes, he was like a child himself—unable to communicate. Children, at least, would express emotion. In that sense, Ethan was worse than a child.
‘Uncle or nephew, they’re both a mess.’
The real issue was that while the nephew longed for his uncle’s affection deep down, the uncle truly had no interest in the child. Agnes was doing her best to knock on Timothy’s heart using the same language as him, even risking a bit of embarrassment, but she believed he needed a real family.
“Miss, you’re here again today…”
“Hello, Johann. Would you open the door for me?”
“I… I can’t.”
“You lost the moment you added that condition. I’ll lie down right here again.”
“Please, no…”
Agnes smiled sweetly.
“That’s not proper behavior for a lady.”
“Says who, now?”
Ethan’s attendant, Johann, looked at Agnes with tired eyes. Like he was looking at a massive headache.
As if she were Timothy the Second.
‘How rude.’
If her skin weren’t so thick, her cheeks would’ve flushed red. But Agnes was shameless enough to endure it. Without that trait, she wouldn’t have even dared knock on the Battenberg estate’s gate, offering to be Timothy’s tutor.
To meet Timothy’s mischief head-on with an equally mischievous counter required as much shamelessness as it did creativity. She had to be the kind of person who could laugh off Carlo’s disapproving stares that said, “How can an adult act like this?”
Agnes said,
“I don’t have time, Johann. I’ll lie down and cry. Is that okay?”
“Miss! Please wait!”
“I’m trying to report my student’s progress to his guardian. Why are you stopping me?”
“His Grace didn’t ask for a report!”
“Then who else do I report a student’s progress to, if not the guardian? Like it or not, it’s part of the curriculum!”
“T-That’s…”
“Johann, you said His Grace dislikes noise more than he dislikes inconvenience, right?”
“…Yes.”
“If it ends up like that first day again, we’ll both be scolded. Better for only you to avoid it, right?”
Johann looked like he wanted to say the same thing Timothy always did.
This is nonsense.
“Open the door, Johann.”
It was a polite request, but to Johann, it sounded like an order: Don’t resist—just move aside. As if she were saying she’d make him comply if she had to.
“If you’re going to be this unreasonable, it’s very troubling, Miss.”
Johann, too, didn’t want to resist pointlessly. But he had to show that he at least tried to stop her. His master, listening from beyond the door, would expect it.
Agnes knew that and repeated the same conversation with a smile every day. Then a flat voice came from beyond the door.
“Let her in.”
“See? Johann, open the door.”
Agnes grinned triumphantly. Johann opened the door for their now-daily “meeting.”
‘Exactly 3:05…’
The meeting would last around 15 minutes, just like every other day.
‘Why does His Grace have to be staying in these days…’
Were they really meeting every single day? Johann wondered what kind of expression his indifferent master wore while speaking to that talkative tutor. He hated noise enough to leave even his own attendants outside the door—but let her in, every time?
Maybe… he actually did care about his nephew, but just couldn’t show it?
‘No way. He only lets her in because she throws a fit if he doesn’t.’
Lately, the Battenberg estate hadn’t known a moment of peace.
It hadn’t been quiet even a year ago, but at least there were brief moments of calm right after each tutor was driven out. Thanks to Carlo’s efficiency, new tutors were constantly hired—and chased away.
Agnes was the first to last ten whole days.
‘I hope she keeps it up.’
Johann was one of those silently rooting for Agnes. The mansion was noisier, yes—but life had become easier for the staff. Thanks to the energetic tutor taking on all of Timothy’s tricks.
‘Though… is “energetic” really the right word?’
Wasn’t that too generous a compliment? Johann revised his thoughts.
“Your Grace! I’m bringing her in!”
“Miss! Please wait!”
“Thank you, Johann.”
The door closed behind her.
Agnes wasn’t energetic—she was fearless.
