Chapter 5
Sometimes, the real “Boss” shows through — and it’s kind of fascinating.
I guess that means I’ve gotten more comfortable with him.
Ahaha.
“Next time, please say, ‘You’re the star of my heart.’”
Instead of replying, he jabbed the apple harder with his fork.
Like a sulky child throwing a tantrum, he stabbed it again and again — very deliberately.
Stab. Stab. Stab.
“…You’re stabbing the apple, right?”
Stab, stab!
“You’re not pretending that’s me, are you?”
“……”
“That’s an apple. If you stab me by mistake, I’ll cry.”
Stab!
Juice splattered across the marble floor.
“…Not fun anymore.”
Sure. Did you have fun, though?
If you did, that’s enough.
I looked down at the shredded apple and prayed my future wouldn’t end up like that.
“Good morning, Miss Titia.”
“It’s a bad morning, Mr. Veilt. Oh, good timing, though. Wait a sec.”
I went back into my room, grabbed the letter for Hannah, and handed it to him.
“Please give this to her.”
He accepted it and asked,
“Any progress?”
“No.”
“Honesty. I like that.”
He nodded, then knocked on the hermit’s door.
“Boss, you have to sign today.”
Looks like he’s dropped the polite speech he used in front of me earlier.
Without even waiting for permission to enter, Veilt flung the door wide open and slammed a pile of documents down in front of the Boss.
The Boss turned his back, pretending not to see.
Veilt grabbed his shoulder and tried to force him to turn around.
“Urgh…”
“Nggh…!”
The sight of them struggling for dominance was so ridiculous I almost laughed.
In the end, Veilt lost, and the Boss savored his victory by pressing himself triumphantly against the wall.
So Veilt resorted to threats.
“Think about how you’ll feel once you come to your senses. You’ll regret it if you don’t sign now. If you don’t— I’ll hug you.”
“…Didn’t I tell you not to talk like that?”
“Shut up.”
There’s no one alive who’s better at getting on someone’s nerves than Veilt.
Looking annoyed beyond measure, the Boss scribbled his signature on the papers without even checking them and threw the whole bundle at Veilt.
But Veilt just left humming cheerfully, arms full of documents.
The Boss, drained from that brief encounter, slumped in exhaustion.
I changed the water in the flower vase and sat down quietly beside him.
“I have a confession to make today.”
“……”
He didn’t even glance my way.
“It’s a conscience confession! ”
Since I had to tell him eventually, I decided to be upfront about why I came here.
“The truth is, I came because my half-brother tried to sell me to the Marquis of Kennedy. Listen, Boss — that man already has a child my age! Can you imagine me marrying that wrinkled old man?”
The moment the former baron died, that bastard William had put me up for sale on the marriage market.
“…Not interested. Be quiet.”
“So I ran away. Because I didn’t want to marry him. But he kept looking for me.”
He covered his ears as if to block me out, but I leaned closer and raised my voice.
“Then Mr. Veilt found me. He said if I helped lure you out of your room, he’d make sure I was free from William and the Marquis. So we made a deal. For my survival.”
I was saying all this to prevent future misunderstandings.
Because inevitably, people always argue later —
“So that’s why you stayed by my side, huh?”
As if everything was done with ulterior motives.
In stories, misunderstandings and lack of communication always lead to those infuriatingly tangled situations.
He was silent for a while, then dropped his hands from his ears.
His voice came out rough and choked.
“Why tell me that? You want pity or something…? You want sympathy from someone like me?”
“Would you give it to me?”
I heard the grind of teeth.
He snapped his head up, anger blazing in his face— then froze.
“Who do you think you are…! You, you…”
He opened and closed his mouth, speechless.
Even his glasses slipped down his nose.
I stretched my cheeks sideways with both hands and released them dramatically.
He didn’t even smile at my puffed-up blowfish face.
A tough opponent, indeed.
“Why aren’t you laughing? This was my masterpiece!”
Amazing. Not even a blink.
A face that had always made everyone laugh. Maybe it only worked on kids.
As I pondered where I’d gone wrong, his trembling voice broke the silence.
“G-Get out…”
“Huh?”
“I said get out! Out!”
He was so flustered he stammered. His pupils were trembling violently.
“Get lost! Now!”
“Ahh, okay! Don’t throw the pillow!”
I bolted from the room.
The click of a locking door followed, but it didn’t matter.
I have the key to his room, after all.
Today, I’ll definitely catch the culprit.
Once, I was soaked by a bucket of water.
Another time, I got stung by a bee.
Fine — coincidences, I told myself.
But drawing a mustache on my face while I napped in the garden?
That was no coincidence.
“Why won’t this come off?”
The more I scrubbed, the darker the mustache seemed to get.
After staring at it for a while, though, I started to feel… kind of proud.
“It looks pretty cool, actually.”
My shoulders straightened automatically.
Maybe I should forgive whoever did it. It’s kind of stylish.
I admired myself in the mirror, when suddenly someone burst out from the bushes screaming:
“You idiot! Why are you smiling?! You should cry if a girl has a mustache!”
“Girls can have mustaches too.”
The child’s words caught in his throat.
“T-That’s not the point! It’s a weird mustache!”
I tilted my head at the feisty kid.
“A kid?”
A very cute boy, maybe eight to ten years old, with bright yellow hair and eyes like sunlight.
“The Boss’s secret son?”
“No!”
“Mr. Veilt’s kid?”
“I said no!”
“…My kid?”
“HEY!”
“I’m kidding. So it was you who did this?”
“Hmph. And what if it was?”
So confident, I had nothing to say.
“If you’re bored, come doodle again sometime.”
“…On your face?”
“Mm-hm.”
He was too cute to stay mad at.
At my casual reply, his jaw dropped.
“Anyway, what’s your name? I’m—”
“Ptooey Ptooey Lowellsy!”
What the heck?
“Ptooey Ptooey”?
Though he blurted nonsense, he did manage to get my alias right — “Lowellsy” — the name I used to hide my identity as an Angeline.
“Titia.”
“Hmph!”
“…Hmm.”
The first person here who’s actually shown open hostility toward me.
Watching him huff and puff, I calmly said,
“That bee sting the other day — it really hurt. Don’t do that again.”
“Hmph! I wanted it to hurt!”
“So it was you, huh? You’re the one who dumped the water too?”
The boy flinched, avoiding my eyes, and disappeared into the bushes.
I tried to chase after him, but he was quick — already far gone.
“Who is he?”
Did the Boss have a kid I didn’t know about?
I don’t recall anyone like that even in the novel.
I should ask Veilt.
Maybe he’ll tell me why that kid hates me so much.
Unfortunately, Veilt was too busy — handling even the Boss’s work — so the only time to catch him was when he came back late at night.
Guess I’d have to ask someone else.
Jessica and Lynette would be my best bet.
They were the strongest in the household, always lending a hand wherever needed.
Which meant… they were never in one place long enough to find.
So, in short, I couldn’t find them either — and ended up back at the hermit’s room.
It’s not good to leave him alone too long.
Surely his anger had cooled by now.
Knock knock.
“Boss, I’m coming in.”
“D-Don’t come in!”
“…Okay. Then I’ll just stay here.”
Is he… crying?
His voice was shaking.
Maybe he’s crying over that saint again.
Tragic love — that sort of thing.
But brooding only deepens sadness, so I decided to keep him distracted.
Hmm, what topic would work?
Oh — the little yellow chick I met earlier!
“Boss, I just met a little yellow chick in the garden.”
He wasn’t an actual chick, of course. Just a kid.
I continued,
“A really bright, sunny-looking kid. Turns out he’s the one who drenched me and sicced a bee on me! Do you know who he is?”
“…No.”
Liar.
“Then at least tell me his name.”
“……”
He didn’t answer.
So I pulled out my spare key, unlocked the door, and strode right in.
I leaned close to his face and pointed at my upper lip.
“Tell me! He even drew a mustache on me! Next time I see him, I’ll— Mmph!”
He suddenly grabbed my hand and clamped his large palm over my mouth.
His hand was so big it covered half my face.
I looked up, wide-eyed — the muscles in his jaw were tight and bulging.
Why’s he angry now?
“Y-you… D-Don’t you dare show up looking like that! ”
“Mmph! Mmmph!”
Unfair!
I didn’t ask for this mustache — that kid drew it!
Before I could protest more, he let go, and I cried out,
“This mustache wasn’t my— Mmph!”
He hastily covered my face again, then scooped me up with alarming ease.
My feet left the ground entirely.
I knew he was tall, but seeing him this close — he was even bigger than Danny.
“Either erase it, or don’t come back.”
His voice trembled slightly at the end, like he genuinely couldn’t stand the sight.
Then he tossed me right out of the room.
I yelled back, indignant,
“What’s wrong with this mustache?! Honestly, I like it!”
“Ugh—! Just close the door and leave already!”
A muffled groan escaped from behind his hands as he covered his face.
This wasn’t working.
He was too volatile right now. I’d better retreat.
I shut the door and called out,
“I’ll erase it and come back!”
Yellow Chick!
So that’s why you gave me this mustache — to make the Boss hate me!
In the small glade near the duke’s manor, the yellow-haired boy sat curled up, hugging his knees — exactly like Gervant.
As the orange sunset faded, his golden eyes grew wet.
“So annoying…”
Tears welled up, and he quickly scrubbed them away with his arm.
“You’ll scrape your eyes doing that,” came a clumsy, lilting voice — one of the twin sisters.
“It actually hurts, you wouldn’t know,” the boy, Joshua, snapped, jumping up.
“Whatever.”
“Told you you’d get caught.”
“Didn’t we?”
“Ugh! Don’t take turns talking! So annoying!”
Running out of things to say, Joshua just yelled in frustration until he exhausted himself and plopped back down.
The twins stepped closer, their large shadows swallowing the fading light.
“We didn’t tell Titia.”
“We pretended not to notice. Good, right?”
“……”
“Titia’s kind.”
“Just so you know.”
“……”
Joshua didn’t reply.
He only pressed his lips together tightly.
