Chapter 10, “The Private Tutor and the Little Devil (9)”:
Agnes spoke.
“You know I try to talk to Timothy with all my heart every day!”
“……”
“If I wasn’t being sincere, why would I get up early this morning to put overripe fruit in Timothy’s slippers? You shouldn’t play with food, so I even asked the kitchen to pick out fruit that was too mushy to use.”
This wasn’t a joke.
Agnes wasn’t trying to punish Timothy as much as she was determined not to be looked down on by him. So she responded to pranks with pranks of her own. But coming up with clever tricks every day was exhausting.
She was running out of creativity.
‘I wish he’d stop already…’
Unlike Timothy, who could execute whatever prank idea came to mind, Agnes had to distinguish between what was acceptable and what wasn’t. She couldn’t pretend to be a proper adult if she didn’t lead by example.
At the same time, she couldn’t come off as too soft or weak in comparison to what she’d suffered. It was a hard balance to maintain.
“Is this because I tied your hair to the bed? Are you really that petty, getting revenge like a grown-up?”
“Now that you mention it, Timothy, I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair. You tied it up so neatly.”
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“Who taught you how?”
“……”
Timothy clamped his mouth shut. Agnes immediately realized she had made a mistake. There was likely only one person a young boy might have brushed or braided hair for. If he didn’t have a sister, it had to be his mother. His eyes, which had softened despite his irritation, now darkened.
It was a fresh wound, still bleeding. Agnes and Timothy weren’t close enough for her to pry into something so sensitive. Just as she was about to change the subject, Timothy muttered,
“…What would you do with that information?”
“I was going to ask you to braid my hair. Just my hair this time. Nicely.”
“Are you insane? You think I want to touch your hair?”
“But you did last night. You even sneaked in to do it.”
“Well, that was… wait, how did you untie it?”
“I’m quite handy, you know. I learned something useful—so one day, I’ll do your hair too.”
“Are you nuts? You’re saying you’ll sneak into my bedroom now?”
“Not unless you sneak into mine again first.”
“Ugh! You make no sense!”
“Would you like some tea, Timothy?”
“Hey!”
“Shh. We agreed to be quiet during tea time. You lost the bet, so you have to follow the rules.”
“……”
Timothy lifted his foot to kick the table in frustration, but then slowly put it down again. The condition had been a peaceful tea time.
‘Is he holding it in because of the bet?’
But Timothy’s silence was different now. His green eyes were dark and intense. While bottling up emotions wasn’t always good, it was something Timothy needed to learn.
Even if it was just to honor the bet, he needed to learn restraint, or else he’d be consumed by emotion.
‘I think we’re making progress.’
Agnes raised her teacup to hide the involuntary smile curling her lips. Timothy glanced at her and said,
“What are you smirking at, like some creep?”
“……”
“You’re already ugly, and now you’re annoying too.”
…Still a long way to go…
*
‘What a weirdo. So persistent.’
Timothy hummed to himself as he walked down the dark hallway.
It was past midnight, and the mansion halls were silent. The servants had all returned to their quarters, and the master of the house was out once again. Everyone knew Timothy spent the night pulling pranks, but since no one could stop him, they just let him be.
Timothy spun the stolen dye pouch in his hand. Whirr, whirr—the sound was light and satisfying.
In the past, he might’ve just smashed the pouch against a wall for fun, but tonight, he had a clear target.
For the past two weeks, Timothy’s only target had been Agnes May Graham.
A tutor who had never conducted a proper lesson.
A weirdo who fought back just as hard as a child playing tricks.
No matter how much he insulted or yelled at her, she never even flinched. In his short seven years of life, Timothy had never met an adult like her.
She hadn’t been normal from the moment they met.
That terrifying, no—horrifying—look she gave him while chasing him with a shoe that had squashed a bug… It was impossible to believe she was sane. But even so, she’d still thrown herself to catch him when he was falling.
Sometimes, his finger still tingled where she’d grabbed it.
She’d saved a complete stranger, a brat who only caused trouble. And she never once used it against him. She didn’t even bring it up. Even Carlo, who was usually thorough to a fault, had forgotten that Agnes had saved him.
‘Well, she did grab Uncle with that dung-covered hand… ugh. No wonder he blanked out…’
Timothy had been shocked too. He thought she was truly insane. She wasn’t just someone who could deal with a kid—she was someone who could face his uncle, the Duke of the mighty Battenberg family, and one of the most formidable knights in the Empire.
Timothy recalled how his mother used to brag endlessly about her younger brother.
If all those praises were true, there was no one greater than his uncle. She’d go on and on about how strong and dependable he was, and how proud she was that Ethan had taken on the family legacy.
‘So what if he’s great?’
Even as his nephew, Timothy could barely see him. He’d never forget the first time he saw Ethan—at the funeral.
He’d been only a few steps away, but Timothy couldn’t move, frozen in place. It felt like if he crossed that invisible line, he’d be cast out entirely.
Those ice-cold eyes looking down on him…
That unfeeling blue gaze, devoid of sympathy, left a deep wound on a child who had just lost his parents.
‘Keep your pity. I don’t need it.’
Timothy didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He was already remarkable without anyone’s help.
He had inherited his father’s name and title—at such a young age, he was already a Marquis.
Everyone trembled before him. Status was powerful; adults couldn’t even meet his eyes and bowed before him. He found it amusing. It made him feel more important. But Agnes, despite having no social standing to boast of, was the only one who stood tall before him.
In any case, she was certainly unlike anyone he’d ever met.
‘I’ll ruin her clothes with this dye. Hmph.’
If she didn’t have anything to wear, well—he had plenty of allowance. He could buy her a few new outfits…
It was pathetic that someone who worked as a tutor for the Battenberg family and as his personal teacher walked around in worn-out, shabby clothes. As he turned the corner, a faint light spilled from the end of the hallway.
Timothy instinctively quieted his steps.
‘Everyone should be back in their quarters by now…’
He crept up to the slightly open door and peeked inside. Two servants he didn’t recognize were talking by a single lamp. He quickly lost interest—until he heard what they said.
“She’s really strange. That tutor, I mean.”
“Watch your mouth. I heard she’s the daughter of a noble family.”
“Working for money like the rest of us—what’s the difference?”
“She must’ve come from a good family. It’s a shame. Who would’ve thought she’d end up babysitting that brat?”
“I heard her family’s having a hard time. Apparently, her father got scammed…”
“Really? No wonder she’s stuck with that little devil. Geez.”
“Isn’t it hard for her?”
He’d heard people gossip like this many times before, so he wasn’t bothered. Narrowing his eyes, Timothy tried to memorize their faces. He held his breath, curious to hear how the man would answer.
The male servant waved his hand dismissively.
“Of course she says it’s hard. But she said she does it because it’s her job… It made me think—she must really be desperate.”
“When you’re trying to make a living, no matter how hard it is, you’ve got to endure, right?”
“…Hmm?”
One of them paused and looked toward the slightly ajar door.
“What is it?”
“Felt like someone was there…”
The servant walked over, but no one was outside.
He glanced into the dark hallway, then closed the door tightly.
