TGDHC Chapter 96

Chapter 96 – “The Grand Duchess’s Ideal Type”:

“Why would you say that all of a sudden?”

“Even if people are married, they don’t always live together. Aston said his aunt and uncle live apart. They only see each other once or twice a year.”

“But you’re the Grand Duchess of Blenheim. You should live here.”

“…”

“And the Grand Duke is really kind to you.”

“…Weren’t you the one who liked Duke Kyle?”

This time even Cecilia’s jaw dropped.

Wait—what? I thought that was just a rumor.

She remembered seeing gossip in a third-rate newspaper back in the capital—the kind you’d be embarrassed to admit subscribing to.

“Huh?”

“But Duke Kyle lives in the capital. If I’d known things would turn out like this…!”

Raphael’s words trailed off, muffled as if he’d buried his face in Annette’s chest.

Cecilia wiped the cold sweat from her brow.

So many unexpected revelations at once—it was dizzying.

And clearly, this little boy had real influence. Annette couldn’t say a word against him.

It seems the Grand Duke has really earned his dislike. To think the boy would openly say she should go back to the capital…

Even though His Grace had been working hard lately, if this sweet-faced child kept tugging at her heart, Annette might waver.

Cecilia imagined a dreadful future:

“Sorry, Cecilia. Raphael can’t live without me. I’ll have to stay in the capital for a while…”

The thought made the back of her neck turn cold.

This is definitely a crisis.

***

The afternoon passed in a whirlwind.

“Before the delegation arrives, the rotation wagons must be stabilized.”

“Collect reports from shops with poor sales—we’ll need solutions.”

“These beddings? Too old to use. Check if the supplier can provide replacements quickly.”

“For laundry and kitchen work, just hire temporary help. No need to bring in permanent maids right now.”

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow I had ended up managing the entire household.

Preparing guest rooms for the delegation meant changing linens. That led to reallocating budgets, which led to reorganizing the maids’ duties…

One thing after another, and I just kept giving orders. But since everyone obeyed without complaint, I went along with it.

“Send the room assignments to the administrator too.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Perel said, gathering papers with a grin.

“What would we have done without you?”

“What else? You’d just be staying up all night, Sir Perel,” Cecilia teased, shooting him a glare.

“Are you dumping too much of your work on Her Grace?”

“No, not at all! Well… it’s true things have been easier thanks to her, but still—”

“It’s fine. It’s not that hard. Actually, it’s kind of fun.”

“This? Fun?”

Cecilia muttered, staring at the towering pile of etiquette manuals.

“But… if it goes on like this…”

“Hm?”

When I looked up, she forced a smile. “Never mind.”

Then she gave Perel a meaningful signal.

He avoided her eyes, but she glared until he finally cleared his throat awkwardly.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, um… it’s about a friend of mine.”

He sounded strangely nervous.

“He likes a certain lady, but doesn’t know how to win her heart. So I was wondering… what kind of men do women usually like?”

“Oh my, are you talking about yourself?” Cecilia teased.

“N-no! Definitely not!”

Suspicious. His frantic denial only made it look guiltier.

“Honestly, everyone has different tastes. Isn’t it best to ask the person directly?”

“But surely there are… general standards?” Cecilia added.

I started counting on my fingers:

“Well, handsome, good body, wealthy, capable…”

“So far so good…”

“Looks count too?” they murmured.

“And kind, good personality, funny…”

“…”

“Oh! I’ve never met a woman who disliked a funny man. Right, Cecilia?”

But when I looked up for agreement, both of their faces had gone pale.

“F-funny?”

“Why? Don’t you agree?”

Maybe this world had different standards?

Tilting my head, I heard Cecilia suddenly blurt:

“Not in general—what about you, Your Grace? Do you have an ideal type?”

Perel muttered something about it being disrespectful to ask a married woman, but she ignored him.

“Me…?”

What was my type?

In my old life, worn down by work and rude bosses, even the smallest kindness could sway me. A simple “Did you eat yet?” was enough to touch me deeply.

No wonder so many coworkers ended up dating just from those small gestures.

I had managed to keep my head, but still…

If I had to pick one trait above all…

“A gentle person.”

“…Gentle?”

“Mm. Someone warm and kind—that’s what I like.”

Perel blinked, glancing at Cecilia.

Her face had gone blank.

Why were they so shocked?

“Why? Cecilia, do you like bad boys instead?”

She shook her head quickly, muttering something that sounded like “We’re doomed…”

Was I hearing things?

***

“Ha! Hyat!”

Shouts of training echoed across the drill yard.

Raphael peeked through a small gate used by squires, eyes shining.

The northern knights really are strong.

Though smaller than his peers, he dreamed of growing quickly into a powerful knight.

When he’d first studied Blenheim’s history, his tutor had joked that the Grand Dukes drank monster blood instead of wine.

How thrilling!

Since then, he had admired Blenheim deeply.

At least… until his sister married the Grand Duke.

Annette had always been the only one to care for him.

His father cared only for the family name, his mother was always at parties, and Ferdinand and Ladriel—his half-siblings—hated him.

Annette, though treated as a burden herself, had always looked after him.

Raphael swallowed a sigh.

He had once dreamed of joining the Imperial Knights after the Academy. But if he wanted to stay near his sister… maybe he should join the Blenheim Knights instead.

They’re stronger anyway.

As if sensing his thoughts, Janet whispered after lunch:

—“Don’t you wonder how they train here? The drill yard is much bigger than the Marquisate’s. Why not ask Lady Annette to take you? She’d never say no.”

She encouraged him eagerly.

But if he asked, word would spread: “The Marquis’s boy wants to spy on Blenheim’s knights.”

That humiliation he could not bear.

Sneaking out was his specialty anyway.

While Janet and the Marchioness napped, he slipped out the window.

It wasn’t hard to find the drill yard—the knights’ shouts were loud from far away.

Raphael watched in awe. Their size alone dwarfed him—so much bigger than Imperial knights.

What do they eat to grow like that?

As he pondered the lunch menu, a hand suddenly grabbed his neck.

“Well, well. What little rat have we here?”

It was a burly, red-haired knight he recognized—the one who’d greeted them on the first day.

“Let go!” Raphael demanded.

The knight pretended not to know him. “Can’t just let intruders wander free.”

He hauled Raphael over the fence and into the training yard.

All eyes turned toward them.

“Demichi.”

The grey-haired vice-captain frowned.

“Don’t stir up trouble.”

“Trouble? I just caught a suspicious brat sneaking around,” Demichi said with a shrug.

But none of the knights looked surprised. Instead, the vice-captain shot him a warning glare.

Raphael’s cheeks burned. They had clearly known he was there all along.

So I didn’t sneak past them by luck after all…

His legs flailed helplessly as some knights chuckled at his struggle.

Shame pricked his eyes with tears.

Just then, a familiar knight—one who often guarded his sister—stepped forward.