Chapter 3
The sharp, metallic clang of clashing swords echoed between the two men.
The blades met with unwavering force, pushing and slicing against each other with relentless energy.
Eventually, exhausted from the ongoing power struggle, Lucas lost his grip and dropped his sword.
And of course, Locus was not one to let that slip by.
“…!”
The chilling edge of a blade crept up toward Lucas’s neck.
Lucas instinctively tilted his head up to avoid the cold touch of steel.
Watching this, Locus spoke in a disinterested tone.
—Give up. You cannot defeat me, Your Highness.
—You speak as if you’ve seen the future.
Lucas smiled, undeterred by Locus’s warning.
—But there’s no greater pleasure than watching such arrogance be shattered.
At the same time, thunder and lightning rumbled overhead, seemingly without warning.
Boom.
One, then two successive cracks of thunder made Locus step back cautiously, sensing something strange.
Lucas raised his voice, unwilling to lose the moment.
—What are you doing, Easton!?
With a sharp crack, the lightning revealed its true nature—and the deafening boom surged toward Locus.
And in that instant—
“Ah.”
What a ridiculous dream to have in the morning.
On the second day since Noah arrived at the duke’s estate, I picked up my pen early in the morning to start planning.
The plan? Nothing less than Noah’s entire future.
From his soon-to-be-appointed tutor, sword instructor, and attendant—
Especially since he was at the age to start preparing for academy entrance, etiquette lessons needed to begin immediately.
Of course, our Noah was so adorable he could get by without manners, but that only applied to me.
After all, not everyone would treat him kindly or gently.
At the very least, he shouldn’t be mocked for some trivial mistake.
“……”
I sighed and straightened my posture.
First, let’s recheck the personal documents the orphanage sent over.
I already know his name and age, so that’s fine. I suppose I just need to check for any allergies.
Hmm, good. Noah has no allergies.
That means I can feed him a variety of things—what a relief.
I dipped my pen in ink and began listing everything he’d need on the parchment.
First of all, we don’t have any boys’ clothing in the house. I’ll need to have some made.
Clothes in red tones would suit his eye color well.
And some green and blue for seasonal variety… Plus ribbons to tie up his long hair.
Hmm, he liked the fairy tale book I read him last night too. Might as well get him more books.
Ah! Tea—his favorite lemon black tea. That absolutely must go on the list… I almost forgot.
Come to think of it, Locus in the novel had a strong sweet tooth.
Especially if it had a tangy twist—he liked it even more.
Actually, he might have preferred sour things over sweet.
Lucas, on the other hand, didn’t like sweets. That’s why Locus often shared desserts with Honey in those scenes.
And every time, Locus would get all shy…
“Mmm.”
I picked up the pen again, recalling the Locus from the novel.
Might as well go all in and hire another pâtissier.
Happiness in food makes life more joyful.
Not that I just want to see shy little Noah again. Of course not. Obviously.
“Annie, see to it that we get everything on this list.”
Satisfied with the now-full parchment, I handed it to the waiting maid, Annie.
Annie accepted it with a faint smile—but then her eyes widened in mild shock.
“Miss, all of this?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“No, I just didn’t realize how fond you were of the young master…”
She smiled awkwardly and tucked the parchment into her apron.
Ah… come to think of it, I probably do look like a doting older sister to others.
But I can’t deny it. It’s kind of the image I want to have.
Noah won’t be able to avoid the trajectory of “Locus” in the novel forever.
Even though I’ve entered the story, I won’t be able to intervene in every event or moment.
So the best I can do is make sure he knows I’m here for him—that he has someone in his corner.
At the very least, I want to shield him from being hurt by those around him…
“Hah.”
I covered my mouth as a sigh escaped me.
Of all mornings to have such an ominous dream, too.
I just hope all this effort won’t be in vain.
I need to do everything I can for Noah—only then will I feel at ease.
And just as that resolution solidified in my mind—
Bang!
“Miss!”
The door burst open, and an unfamiliar maid rushed toward me.
Before I could respond, she was already breathless, her voice frantic.
“There’s trouble. The young master—!”
“Noah?”
Familiar words made me instantly rise to my feet. The maid, on the verge of tears, cried out:
“The young master was playing with scissors and accidentally cut his hair!”
…Huh?
I immediately dashed toward Noah’s room, the disbelief heavy on my face.
And sure enough, inside the room, Noah stood with teary eyes, clutching a bundle of his long brown hair.
There was a faint red line on his finger—he’d nicked himself.
Thank goodness it was just a tiny cut.
“I’m going to lose my mind.”
I stumbled slightly, sighing in disbelief.
Why, of all things, did he cut the back of his hair?
There are people out there who’d rather get castrated than turn a long-haired character into a short-haired one!
Sob My Noah actually cut his own hair.
A short cut? Seriously?
My Noah—with a short cut?!
I was planning to tie his hair myself! I even had paperwork ready to order ribbons in every color!
Just last night, I imagined brushing it for him…
“Noah, scissors are dangerous. You have to be careful.”
I swallowed my urge to cry and gently took the scissors from him. Noah, still looking at his finger, mumbled:
“Sowwy. It was just so fun to cut stuff…”
Ack. So cute.
Not the time to say it—but he’s just so cute, even while sniffling!
Now I get why people love watching their favorite characters cry.
“……”
I set the scissors down and checked his hair.
The back was a total loss. The sides were jagged. No ribbon could salvage this.
It was like someone had intentionally hacked away at it.
“Annie, add hiring a hairdresser to that budget list I gave you.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Sigh. Nothing else for it but to go all in and cut it clean.
Still, I didn’t expect Noah to have zero basic common sense.
All this over a pair of scissors?
Of course, he’s still my cute little brother, but…
Like I said—no one else is going to tolerate my bias toward him.
We really need to find a tutor soon. As a boy adopted from an orphanage, people outside the duchy won’t view him kindly.
Wait.
Now that I think about it, if the orphanage never taught him basic things… could that be why he found the scissors so fascinating?
“Noah, do you know how to read?”
I asked cautiously.
It could be a sensitive question, but Noah answered with a bright smile.
“Nope!”
Thunk.
It was like someone smacked me in the back of the head.
What?!
There was no mention of this in the documents the orphanage sent!
Ugh, I was so busy preparing everything else, I didn’t even check the essentials.
I didn’t even ask the basics… What kind of sister am I?
I bit my lip and placed my hand gently on Noah’s shoulder.
“I’ll do my best from now on…”
“Mm?”
Of course, Noah had no idea what I meant. He just tilted his head innocently—and stabbed my heart with more pure adorableness.
After learning Noah was illiterate, I sat him down at a desk as soon as his hair and finger were tended to, handing him paper and a pen.
At the very least, he should know how to write his name.
I could teach him letters myself. Tutors would likely focus on etiquette and history anyway.
Usually, a mother would teach her child how to read and write.
It was my mistake.
Instead of relying on the documents, I should’ve observed Noah closely and figured out what he truly needed.
Even relying on the orphanage for his name—”Locus”—was foolish of me.
Wait… don’t tell me the birthday listed was just a made-up date, too?
“……”
Feeling oddly guilty, I gently stroked Noah’s hair and then wrote on the parchment:
<Noah Agrinda>
It was his name.
“Here, try copying this.”
“What is it?”
“Your name.”
At my explanation, Noah’s eyes sparkled as he stared at the parchment.
He seemed truly fascinated by the letters.
But then, curiosity lit up in his eyes as he looked at me.
“What’s your name?”
“Huh?”
“Your name, big sister!”
Noah’s eyes curved adorably as he asked again and again.
“My name? Oh…”
I hadn’t expected that.
Usually, kids were only interested in their own names…
Startled, I picked up the pen again and carefully wrote the letters down. Noah watched intently.
When I finished, I gently handed him the pen. Noah murmured:
“How do you read this?”
“Rosent Agrinda.”
“Ro-zhent…?”
Noah hesitated, then looked down at the parchment and carefully copied the letters with his tiny hand.
The handwriting was messy and uneven, but I could clearly read what it said:
<Rosent Agrinda>
The very first words Noah ever wrote.
