TCDEVF 14

Chapter 14

I carefully watched the child nibble at her cookie.

Silver hair and bluish-gray eyes.

She had inherited the Valienor genes perfectly — a child who, from the moment she was born, monopolized the nanny’s attention.

Perhaps the nanny had genuinely cherished Davina, at least in her own way, even if it was in the strict, suffocating manner that made the girl hesitate before eating a single cookie.

And Davina, in turn, was probably fond of the nanny who loved her. She was at the age when one longed for affection.

If the bond between Davina and the nanny was strong, punishing the nanny too severely would be difficult. I would have to adjust my revenge accordingly to spare Davina from any severe emotional shock.

“Davina, can I ask you something?”

“You can ask ten things.”

“Do you like the nanny?”

“No. I like you.”

…?

An unexpected answer popped out, plain and unembellished.

The tone was even lighter than saying she liked cookies or hated spinach.

I could tell she liked me — that much was clear — but… did that mean she didn’t like the nanny? I wasn’t sure.

“Really? But the nanny seems to like you a lot.”

“You like me, right?”

“Mm-hm. Of course.”

“Hee. I know.”

…What kind of exam question is this, twisted beyond recognition?

It was as if, in Davina’s world, the only possible subject for the verb “like” was “big sister.”

Or maybe she was deliberately avoiding talking about the nanny.

“Hm…”

Well, whatever the case, their bond didn’t seem as close as I’d feared. Good.

Relieved, I held out my pinky toward her face.

“Then, want to share a secret with me? You mustn’t tell Father or our brother.”

At the mention of a “secret,” her pupils sparkled. Apparently, children all over the world were suckers for secrets.

She popped the lemon cookie into her mouth, then wriggled her empty hand. A tiny pinky hooked onto mine and dangled there.

“You really won’t tell Father or Brother?”

“Mm-hm. I’ll be the only one who knows.”

The moment I promised, she eagerly shared a secret — clearly something she’d been dying to say.

“You’re prettier than Mom.”

“…What?”

“It’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone.”

“But everyone says I look just like Mom.”

“You’re similar, but different. Your eyes are prettier, your nose is prettier, and your lips are prettier. If your hair was silver, it would be even better. Pink hair is actually prettier, but since you’ve been sick… you were asleep for so long. You were pretty when you were sleeping too, but I like seeing you alive and moving better.”

“Um, well… you’re pretty too, Davina.”

Flustered by my sister’s sudden barrage of affection, I rolled my eyes and barely managed to get the words out.

I felt like several suspicious lines had just flown past me, but they’d hit in such rapid succession that I couldn’t recall them clearly.

“Liar.”

“Huh? What’s a lie?”

“The nanny said so. She said aside from my hair and eye color, there’s nothing worth looking at. That I should be glad I was born a Valienor.”

“…What?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

My head went cold in an instant. I tapped my ear, wondering if I’d misheard.

“The nanny said you should be glad you were born a Valienor?”

“She says it all the time. That my looks are mediocre, I have no natural talent, and that if I weren’t a Valienor, I’d be ignored in society. She said if I want to be recognized as a lady, I have to obey her.”

…Is she out of her mind?

I was speechless. I must have been under one hell of a delusion.

Thinking that a garbage human might have a shred of humanity in them…

Once trash, always trash. As if to prove it, the nanny’s rotten personality had been consistent from the past to the present — extending her refined gaslighting skills from Ariel to Davina.

To Ariel, she’d said, “You’re not worthy of being a Valienor.”
To Davina, she twisted it into, “You should be grateful you are a Valienor.”

The common thread in this contextless, illogical gaslighting was the intent to manipulate the listener however she pleased — a tactic shallow, petty people often used on those whose sense of self wasn’t yet developed.

Children subjected to this often grew up with low self-esteem. And low self-esteem, when paired with excessive pride, produced the kind of villainess who would, like the original Davina, wreak havoc without end…

“Um, are you… mad, Sis?”

Davina’s fearful eyes searched my face. I’d tried my best not to show my anger, but she must have sensed my discomfort.

I forced down the fury boiling to the tips of my hair and gently stroked her hair.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, Davina.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm. Want more cookies?”

“I want raspberry!”

When I handed her the cookies with a smile, color returned to her clear cheeks.

“Eat these and play in my room for a bit.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Father.”

If you want to take someone down, you need Father’s cooperation.

I strode confidently toward the main residence to meet the duke — only to pivot lightly on my heel before entering the hallway.

Damn this endless darkness.

I couldn’t bring myself to step into the corridor, my feet tapping anxiously instead, when a familiar voice called from beyond the shadows.

“My lady, what brings you here?”

“Mikhail!”

How did he always know exactly where to find me?

I swallowed that question and greeted him with a bright smile — because I really did need him right now.

“Give me a piggyback!”

At my shameless demand, a faint smile curved Mikhail’s otherwise indifferent face. The shadows hid it, but I was sure he was smiling.

“Where to?”

“Is His Grace in his study?”

“He’s out at the moment, so you’ll have to wait a bit.”

“Then have a meal prepared too, so we can eat together when he returns.”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten anything today except a chocolate cookie.

“Yes, my lady. I’ll have it arranged.”

Mikhail approached, his face returning to its usual expressionless state, and knelt politely.

I clung to his back with practiced ease.

“It’s uncanny. How do you always know exactly when I need you?”

“You flatter me.”

No, it’s suspicious. You didn’t secretly attach a GPS to me, did you? For an AI, that sort of function would be nothing.

Well, no matter. This worked in my favor — I had plenty of questions for him.

Before getting to the main topic, I threw out an appetizer question.

Judging by the way things had gone before, I already knew the likely answer, but I still wanted to hear it straight from the AI.

“Mikhail, you know how my siblings keep cold expressions in front of others? Why is that?”

“It is a Valienor tradition. Direct descendants must display dignity before outsiders.”

I mulled over the answer I’d expected, then realized something odd.

“So I don’t have to? No one’s ever told me to do that.”

“You are an exception, my lady.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. His Grace permitted it.”

Once an exception exists, more exceptions tend to follow.

I smirked knowingly and nodded.

The appetizer Q&A ended just as we reached the dreaded stairway into the abyss.

I had no idea how much of this cursed staircase I’d have to tear out to make it usable for a normal person.

Facing the thick darkness, I dropped my main question.

“And yesterday, before I met my siblings, you said I should prepare myself mentally.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Was that because of Baroness Caitlin and Count Pavel?”

“Your question is unclear.”

An AI’s equivalent of “voice recognition failed.”

I tilted my lips in thought, weighing how directly I should speak.

Judging by my siblings’ current innocent state, the original Jeremiah and Davina must have undergone multiple stages of corruption.

Such twisted personalities didn’t form overnight — they required a thoroughly botched childhood and adolescence.

And the guardian’s influence in producing such ruin would have been significant.

While Duke Meteorio was their legal guardian, their actual guardians were others.

The nanny, Baroness Caitlin, and their tutor, Count Pavel.

Those two had almost certainly played major roles in raising my siblings into a top-tier villainess and schemer.

The baroness was already caught red-handed, and while there was no hard evidence against the count, suspicion was more than justified.

“Do you think the baroness and the count are fit to be my siblings’ guardians and educators? You can be honest.”

At my blunt fastball, Mikhail’s steps stopped. At least this time, the question had been “recognized.”

“They are entirely unfit.”

“Why?”

“Unlike the late Madam, their educational philosophy is narrow-minded in the extreme. They control and pressure the young master and young lady, but show no real affection or care.”

“Be even more honest.”

As if waiting for permission, he delivered a cutting insult in his flat, emotionless voice.

“Their frivolous mouths fling stinking filth at random, their cunning minds are good for nothing but serving as flowerpots for growing hair, and their very existence is a public menace.”