Episode 8
“Yes.”
One of the duke’s eyebrows lifted as if he found it interesting.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I’ve heard that people of high status like you, Duke, need several children for various reasons. For example, a child to inherit the family, or children who can be used to form alliances with other houses.”
“Hm.”
“But since you only have one daughter, I thought you might need another child to fulfill those needs… so you adopted me, didn’t you?”
“Is that what the head of the orphanage told you?”
“No.”
“Then how did you come to know such things?”
Instead of saying something absurd like I read it in a novel, I tried to sound a bit smarter.
“I just learned it naturally while living in the orphanage.”
“Naturally?”
“The children at Curtis Orphanage are all like that, aren’t they? Unwanted children—illegitimate ones who are inconvenient but kept hidden just in case. If one more child is ever needed, they’re found. If not, they’re abandoned.”
“Hm.”
Hearing such uncomfortable truths—things nobles usually kept quiet about—coming straight out of a child’s mouth made Ivan visibly uneasy.
Pretending not to notice, I continued.
“Isn’t that why, unlike other orphanages, they teach the children noble etiquette? I was transferred from another orphanage, so I could tell how different Curtis was. That’s how I figured it out.”
In truth, I didn’t really know how other orphanages in this world worked—I had only read about it in a book. But to Ivan, my explanation seemed convincing enough.
“You’re clever. But you are not my illegitimate child. Even so, can you guess why I brought you here?”
I knew his reasons, but it was something he had been planning alone. If I said I knew everything, it would surely raise suspicion.
*Should I say I don’t know? Maybe just say I suspect it has something to do with Herais…?*
While I was thinking, the chef suddenly appeared from the kitchen with dessert, seemingly noticing that the meal was almost over.
He picked up a knife and plunged it into the center of the cake.
The silver knife slid smoothly through the soft sponge, cutting through the beautifully decorated whipped cream.
For a moment, I was completely mesmerized by the cake.
“Uh… well, I thought it might have something to do with the cake. Because His Highness the First Prince likes cake…”
I trailed off, realizing something was off.
*Since when was I staring at the cake?*
When I quickly turned my head toward Ivan, I saw him biting his lip.
“S-sorry! I mean, the cake thought well of me—”
“The First Prince.”
“Ah, yes! His Highness the First Prince and the cake—”
“You.”
“Yes—no, I mean, me.”
Ah, how embarrassing. This stupid cake! I was acting all smart and composed, and now this!
My face heated up. When I glanced at Ivan, he was covering his face, pressing between his brows.
“Are you alright?”
“The cake… ahem. Eat the cake first.”
Ivan gestured to the chef, who brought the cake in front of me.
“A child is still a child.”
He muttered under his breath, his lips twitching.
…What was that? I didn’t know, but I decided to pretend I hadn’t noticed.
The chef placed a large slice of cake on a plate and handed it to me.
“Please enjoy, young lady. It’s made with fresh cream from milk churned at dawn today.”
There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
I glanced at Ivan, and he nodded for me to eat. Then he dismissed the chef and servants before speaking again.
“Listen while you eat.”
I quickly picked up the fork, cut a big piece, and stuffed it into my mouth.
As I chewed the soft cake, Ivan said,
“You don’t need to know everything from the beginning. For now, your task here is to learn etiquette. Starting tomorrow, I will assign you a tutor, so do your best.”
With my cheeks puffed full, I replied awkwardly,
“Yes.”
“I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
His voice was firm, but his expression had softened, so it didn’t feel too burdensome.
*I get a nice room and good food—learning etiquette is nothing.*
I nodded seriously, still with my mouth full of cake.
“Yes!”
“Good. I have business to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. If you want more dessert, you may have it sent to your room.”
“Thank you.”
As I bowed my head, the duke suddenly stared at me, then reached out and poked my puffed cheek with his finger.
“…?”
When I looked at him in confusion, he flinched and quickly pulled his hand away.
“S-something was on your face. I’ll be going.”
Then he hurried out of the dining hall.
*His eyes seemed to sparkle just now… what was that?*
—
After finishing the meal and returning to my room, someone knocked shortly after. It was the same maid from the morning.
She had promised to bring me clothes to replace the rags I was wearing, and now she held a dress.
“I found a dress that was going to be discarded because it became too small for Miss Isabella.”
Freydia’s body was small for a fourteen-year-old, probably due to poor nutrition. Since Isabella was only a year older, it would likely fit.
But the maid’s expression as she set down the dress was a bit odd.
“Is there a problem?”
“The hem is slightly torn, so I’m not sure if you can wear it. What should we do?”
When I checked, it wasn’t just “slightly”—the tear was big enough for my head to pass through.
“…Is there anything else?”
“No. Otherwise, you’ll have to wear what you’re wearing now for the time being. Madam needs to decide how to order new clothes, but she’s currently unwell.”
So that meant I couldn’t get new clothes without Catherine’s approval—the same Catherine who didn’t like me and had shut herself in her room.
“And if I repair this myself, I can wear it without any issue, right? No changing your words later? It’s not secretly something the young lady cherishes?”
“Of course.”
Suspicious, I examined the dress. It did seem like something meant to be discarded.
Holding the dusty dress carefully, I nodded reluctantly.
“I’m not confident, but I’ll try repairing it myself.”
The maid, looking satisfied, handed me a sewing kit and left—her back practically radiating anticipation of seeing me embarrass myself.
“Was this Isabella’s doing, or the maid’s idea? It’s a bit different from the original story… but let’s fix it first.”
I went to the window, shook the dress out, and let the dust scatter into the wind.
Once cleaned and laid out on the bed, it was actually a beautiful dress—delicate lace, luxurious fabric, decorations that were elegant without being excessive.
“Nice. I like it.”
The tear ran diagonally, so simply stitching it together would be obvious.
“Hm…”
Maybe it had been torn on purpose.
“Well, there’s always hazing wherever you go. Even at the factory I used to work at, it was bad. Getting older doesn’t mean people mature.”
I sighed.
“If all adults were actually mature, why are there clueless old men who can’t read the room? Or bachelors who can’t tell the difference between compliments and harassment? Honestly…”
Clicking my tongue, I threaded the needle.
Then I realized I could see the eye of the needle clearly and straightened my posture.
“Right, I’ve got good eyesight now.”
Freydia had good vision—probably because she never stared at a smartphone in the dark.
“The world looks so clear without glasses…”
Humming a random tune, I threaded the needle.
At that moment, all the concentration in the universe gathered into my eyes and hands.
**Grand Ecstasy Needle Technique.**
**First Form: Temporary Stitch Fist.**
“Here we go!”
With a dramatic shout, I plunged the needle into the fabric.
Tiny, precise movements followed—far less dramatic than my words.
“Now… hemming stitch! whip stitch! running stitch! backstitch!”
In truth, I was quite skilled at sewing. I even used to make doll clothes as a side job—it earned decent pocket money.
Sewing, embroidery—anything involving a needle, I could do it all.
“La la la~”
The maid had probably expected me to wear a poorly repaired, laughable dress.
But unfortunately for her…
A little while later, what I wore was a beautifully transformed dress—cut, reshaped, and reassembled into something entirely new.
“Making dresses for dolls or people—it’s basically the same thing. Hehe.”
