Chapter 108
“Grand Duchess?”
Kenneth irritably called out to Sinclair, taking his hand off his temple. Yet, her lips curled into a peculiar smile.
Click.
That smile awakened deep memories within Sinclair.
[Does he think I’m just the daughter of this house?]
A shabby northern annex.
The walls were riddled with holes; in winter, cold wind blew through, and in summer, rain poured in—not just a drip, but a steady stream. Despite this gloomy place, gifts sent by the servants began to arrive one by one.
It was because Michael had publicly acknowledged her existence.
Michael, who had once strived to kill Sinclair, realizing his attempts were useless and even after being divorced, could no longer hide her.
He gave a large sum in alimony to his ex-wife Shiny, and they conspired that the frail second daughter had gone for recuperation and returned.
Kenneth would regularly come by, break the gifts sent by the servants, or throw them into the fireplace with that expression.
Treating Sinclair like a destroyer of the family.
Why, Kenneth? What else do you want to destroy?
Sinclair hadn’t come in causing Shiny to leave.
Why take out your father’s misdeeds on Sinclair?
Moreover, you should have decided your stance when we met privately earlier.
Sinclair raised an eyebrow and looked at Kenneth.
“My memory differs from yours.”
“Is that so? Memories can differ depending on one’s perspective, so that’s possible,” Kenneth replied.
Kenneth, no matter what your memories say, one thing is certain: what you did was abuse.
If you want that abuse exposed, and the reasons for it revealed, to bring about your downfall, go ahead.
The emperor would be very pleased.
You two are already sweating over how to eliminate the Empress and the poor Crown Prince, right?
Unaware of the tension between them, the noblewomen and children focused on the next part of the story to calm their unease.
“Father said, Sinclair…”
Before Kenneth could finish, Sinclair overlapped her thumbs and spread her hands wide.
Kenneth frowned in annoyance at Sinclair’s distraction instead of listening.
“What are you doing?”
“Paying tribute.”
“Tribute?”
Sinclair answered cheerfully, like a carefree little sister, though the Empress’s tone was curt.
“Though my father has passed….”
The atmosphere fell for a moment.
“His words still remain in my heart… I want to carry on his legacy.”
Kenneth’s mouth twisted slightly to one side.
Carry on his legacy? Are you crazy?
Sinclair, even after entering the Owenga family, within 1–2 years monsters attacked the estate.
Every time he went on an expedition, Father ordered the annex to be locked for safety.
During the war, only the minimal number of knights could remain; they couldn’t spare forces to guard the annex.
You were trapped there until Father returned.
For safety.
But you know that was just a flimsy excuse, right?
To Father, you were a mistake, a stain, and the only weak point he wanted erased.
He wanted to remove a ticking time bomb that could explode anytime.
Whether you starved or were killed by monsters, he fervently wished your life would end. Remember?
After returning from the expedition, the first place he checked was the annex—but that was just to confirm your death.
“When the monsters attacked…”
Kenneth began, but
“Wow.”
The noblewomen and children gasped.
A black shadow, bird-shaped, fluttered behind Kenneth.
The black bird lightly perched on the Empress’s shoulder, then her head, flying around her.
Soon, a small bird fluttered beside it.
Ah, Theodore.
The Grand Duke remembered the shadow play with his stepmother and created a bird himself.
Huh?
But the small bird wasn’t alone. Small birds flew all over the walls.
Beatrice, Daphne, and Cordelia joined in.
Their lips curved in amusement, eyes sparkling.
“Woof woof.”
Coco and Myo-myo ran to the wall, raising their paws as if to climb and catch the birds.
Kenneth frowned. How dare my words be overshadowed like this.
Quick-witted Lady Cecil Heather stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, look behind you.”
She pointed to the wall behind the Empress.
The Empress turned to look.
Black birds flew everywhere across the wall.
As the dogs barked loudly, Sinclair bent her thumbs and wiggled her four fingers, creating a crab.
Shh-shh.
When Sinclair’s crab disappeared beyond the wall, the children imitated her hand gestures, giggling as their shapes vanished.
“This is fun.”
The children looked at Sinclair all at once. She smiled.
“Remember? Father used to do this for us.”
Sinclair beamed at the Empress.
The Empress bit the soft inside of her lip. She couldn’t show displeasure now.
Sinclair’s fluorescent pink eyes shone brilliantly.
Kenneth, even if you don’t remember, you must act like you do.
I will no longer give you the chance to torment Sinclair.
Look at this: the eager eyes of the children and the noblewomen.
Soon, a funeral must take place. Surely, one story like this should be shared, right?
For the Empress and the Grand Duchess’s father.
“Thanks to you, even on nights when monsters invaded, we could laugh in the bomb shelter, sister.”
At Sinclair’s words, the noblewomen and servants wiped away rising tears.
“I’m moved that the Marquis was so considerate.”
The pregnant Duchess of Salamis gently held her rounded belly and wiped her tears.
“…Hmm, he was such a man. Father, that is.”
Ah, quick change of stance, very Empress-like.
“Thank you, Sinclair. For bringing back these memories. Today, knights like my father will protect us, and the Emperor will defend us as well, so everyone, don’t worry.”
Kenneth warmly concluded, in an Empress-like tone, in response to Sinclair’s prompting.
“Shall we make it a little more fun then?”
“Yes!”
Bang! Kaboom!
Apparently, they fired at the monsters.
The ground shook, debris fell from the ceiling, yet inside the bomb shelter, it was calmer than before.
Silently, Sinclair placed her hands behind her head, tucked her head between her knees.
After a while, the bombardment ceased and the attacks calmed.
Raising her head, she saw the children’s faces, covered in dust, staring at her with expectant eyes.
“Shall we start collecting the candlesticks?”
“Yes!”
The children smiled and looked at the maids and servants. They moved the candlesticks so they could continue the shadow play.
Enjoyable, starting with what can be done.
Perhaps this is the one thing I do best in this world.
“Let’s begin the second act of the performance.”
“Waaah!”
Sinclair gracefully raised her arm, bowed to the young audience and the interested noblewomen.
Even if monsters attacked, adults must protect the children’s daily lives.
Though young Sinclair had no one to protect her back then.
Owenga Cemetery
From a rural baron to a marquis, and eventually rising to the system, Michael Owen was an ambitious and valiant knight.
The head of the family who elevated the household so that the eldest daughter became Empress and the second daughter Grand Duchess.
He became the Emperor’s right hand by massacring demons to remove his rivals, aiming to be the Empire’s most powerful.
For such a once-celebrated power player, his grave was modest.
He did not anticipate dying young and thus didn’t plan a grand tomb.
The glory of the present mattered more.
Moreover, the Empress at the time, Kenneth, had little real influence in the royal court.
Bodrina and the Situation Office were still the real powers in the palace.
And now, a monster attack!
Monsters invaded all the way to the system, wreaking havoc—unthinkable.
Even during the reign of the former Emperor, when Emperor Julius and Gerald went on demon world expeditions, it wasn’t this severe.
By imperial decree, Michael Owen’s national defense policy was proven to be a failure.
Fortunately, Michael himself died during the monster attack.
Since the responsible party perished gloriously, the Emperor could not blame anyone.
Hence, the Emperor did not send any condolences.
Perhaps for the same reason, the Empress did not attend the funeral.
Probably uneasy about conspiracy accusations, she distanced herself from her natal family.
Consequently, the modest grave saw few mourners, making Michael Owen’s funeral less than that of a commoner.
However, thanks to Bodrina and the Situation Office, Michael’s grandson, Crown Prince Alfred, was present.
Some visitors came occasionally, seemingly because of the Crown Prince.
The ridiculous part: the high priest Juvier was supposed to conduct the funeral mass but hadn’t arrived yet.
Thus, Michael’s coffin waited quietly beside the grave.
How dare they make Michael Owen wait?
If Michael were alive, this would be impossible.
Yet the servants dared not complain.
With the system in chaos from the monster attack, blaming the temple for being late was impossible.
The high priest’s position was also threatened by the monster invasion.
Previously, the magic tower and demons could easily repel monsters, but in this battle, they couldn’t use their abilities effectively.
The temple’s prestige could only be upheld through healing.
Hence, time was further delayed treating the injured.
Yan sat, lost in this tragic situation, unsure where to start.
He leaned against a tree, sipping from a bottle of strong liquor.
Just as he brought the bottle to his lips again, someone snatched it.
Frowning, he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up.
A black ceremonial robe or quite a refined outfit.
The Empress Kenneth, perhaps.
“You came quickly.”
“Yan.”
But her voice was different. Yan frowned, looked up, and was startled.
