Chapter 8
“My lady! The Duke has sent you gifts.”
“What?”
Diasta stared blankly at the maid. Gifts…? Was it her birthday today? The head of the household, Nontel Bellum, was a cold man. He never showed favor or gave precious things to his granddaughter without reason.
So when the gifts followed behind Marianne – no, could that pile even be called gifts? – Diasta couldn’t help but be astonished by the mountain of presents being brought in.
Diasta’s room was old-fashioned, and even putting it nicely, it was not a cute, childlike room.
However, its size was quite generous compared to other rooms. Yet the gifts not only filled the room completely, but there were so many that the surplus was piled up in the hallway.
When the servants carrying the presents looked troubled, Marianne giggled and opened the door to the next room.
The procession of gift boxes finally stopped only after they had filled the adjacent room as well.
“My lady, open them quickly!”
Marianne, even more excited than Diasta herself, handed her one of the boxes.
Even the gift box itself looked like a gift. Wrapped in a white satin ribbon adorned with tiny jewels, the package seemed like a present in its own right.
Diasta, who had unconsciously started to untie the ribbon, shook her head vigorously.
“Marianne, couldn’t someone have made a mistake? There’s no way His Grace the Duke would give me presents. It must be an error.”
“No, I heard it clearly!”
Marianne insisted, but Diasta still wouldn’t touch the boxes, as if they might be a trap. That was how utterly unbelievable this was to Diasta.
It was only after receiving confirmation from the butler, Sioel, that every last one of these boxes was indeed for her, that Diasta finally approached them.
“Caution is as valuable a trait as courage, my lady.”
As he said this and left, there seemed to be a hint of a smile in Sioel’s eyes, but that must have been Diasta’s imagination. Sioel was as strict a man as Nontel.
“My lady, hurry!”
Urged by Marianne’s sparkling, impatient eyes, Diasta began to open the gifts. Inside, it seemed like everything a child could possibly like was included.
There were ribbons embroidered with gold and silver thread, hair ornaments made of lustrous pearls and sparkling diamonds, lace that looked like fairy wings, a hat for going out adorned with large jewels, and a comb made of pure gold.
“This is truly…”
She had opened boxes for a while, but there were still many left unpacked. About to ask again if these were really for her, Diasta thought of Sioel, who had just been there, and closed her mouth.
‘Double-checking is being cautious, but overdoing it becomes foolish.’
Having settled her mind that way, Diasta changed her thinking and pondered the reason she had received the gifts. Hadn’t His Grace been angry enough with her to forbid her even from learning swordsmanship?
“The master has never sent gifts like this before. With this, those uneasy rumors floating around the castle should immediately disappear…”
Marianne, entranced by the presents, was muttering when she suddenly clamped her mouth shut as if startled. Her expression clearly said she’d made a mistake, so Diasta pretended not to hear and opened another gift box.
Inside a flower-decorated box was a pair of pretty silk shoes. They were embroidered with tiny floral patterns and adorned with small jewels.
Diasta noticed a common thread among the gifts. They were all things that a young girl her age would love. Yet not a single one was appropriate for an heir.
Until now, the gifts Nontel had given Diasta had been things like swords and thick books. But now… Diasta buried her face in the flowing lace.
‘Now I understand. This is a warning wrapped in lavish packaging. It’s Grandfather’s message telling me not to concern myself with the position of heir anymore…’
When she lifted her face from the lace, Diasta’s eyes were slightly moist. Now, she felt she understood everything. The sudden gifts, and even Sioel’s smile.
Sioel had always thought she was unsuited to be heir, so he must have welcomed Nontel’s decision.
Thinking that, even the beautiful lace that brushed her fingertips, and the shoes painstakingly made by a craftsman… everything felt futile.
“My lady, in all of Bellum, no – in all of the Empire, there probably isn’t any young lady who has received gifts of this magnitude. The head of household must truly cherish you.”
At those words, Diasta simply smiled quietly and put down the items she was holding.
“Please put the rest away. I’ve had enough.”
Marianne nodded vigorously, though she was concerned because Diasta somehow seemed gloomier than before receiving the gifts.
And so, Nontel’s sincerity, prepared by bothering all sorts of merchants in Bellum, ended up buried deep inside a drawer, along with Diasta’s misunderstanding.
It was a gift that left Diasta feeling bitter, but a gift was still a gift. So for a while, Diasta agonized over how to properly thank him for the presents.
She thought about buying something plausible, but the recipient was Nontel, the master of Bellum. Moreover, this was after receiving enough gifts to fill several rooms. No matter what she bought, she felt it wouldn’t be enough.
So first, Diasta thought of going hunting. She planned to go out and catch something – a pheasant, a rabbit, anything – and present it to Nontel. But Nontel had forbidden Diasta from hunting anything with either sword or bow for the time being.
When she tried to go hunting, the knights blocked her way. In the end, Diasta…
“You want to bake cookies? You, my lady?”
Briga, the head chef wearing a white apron, raised her voice incredulously. With her thick arms crossed, she looked quite rude, but Diasta didn’t take offense and simply nodded quietly.
In her previous life, Diasta had had to do everything herself. Making her own food was a given, and sometimes she had even baked bread and sold it on the street.
“Yes. I want to make walnut cookies. Would it be alright if I use the kitchen for a bit?”
Her gentle tone made Chef Briga hesitate. Initially, she had intended to refuse without a second thought.
Briga had worked in this ducal kitchen since before Diasta was born.
Her pride from working so long, combined with the characteristic Bellum stubbornness, meant Briga always said:
‘I am the king of this kitchen! Not even the Emperor of the Empire can mess with my kitchen!’
So, being Briga, she had intended to guard the kitchen fiercely when she heard Diasta was coming. A little aristocratic lady would surely just make a mess of the kitchen or burn herself and cause trouble.
That’s what she had steeled herself for, but when she actually saw Diasta, she couldn’t refuse.
If Diasta had thrown a tantrum or used her status to pressure her, Briga would have firmly said no.
But Diasta didn’t pressure her at all. Instead, dressed neatly – and this was very important; Briga valued cleanliness above all – with her hair perfectly tied back, she was asking Briga for permission.
She could have simply ordered Briga to give up the kitchen. While Briga stood dumbfounded, Diasta waited calmly for an answer, composed as a little lady.
“Chef?”
Eventually, one of the kitchen maids poked Briga in the side, and Briga, flustered, nodded. At that, Marianne, who had been hovering in the back, worried Briga might look down on her young lady, also relaxed and entered the kitchen.
‘Well, I never…’
Briga was surprised once more when she saw Diasta in the kitchen. Because after checking where the ingredients and tools were, Diasta began preparing to make the cookies in a capable manner.
The bowls and utensils were large compared to her hands, making her wobble a bit, but aside from that, she moved skillfully.
Briga had no idea when she learned, but the young lady knew exactly what she was going to do and how to make the cookies.
‘Marianne has been going around singing “my lady, my lady” like a song for a while now… I guess Marianne wasn’t mistaken.’
Moreover, every one of Diasta’s movements was considerate. She didn’t waste ingredients, and she used the kitchen tools carefully.
Perhaps that was why. When Diasta was about to use the usual amount of sugar according to the standard walnut cookie recipe, Briga abruptly spoke up.
“Ah, it’s best to use a little less sugar.”
At that, Diasta, who had been adding sugar, looked at Briga. What she saw in those eyes was not a reproach to an impudent chef who had butted in.
In her red eyes was respect for the head chef who had worked for the head of the household for a long time.
Realizing this, the corners of Briga’s mouth unconsciously lifted into a smile.
“The court physician said the Duke should reduce his sugar intake. He said overly sweet things are bad for health.”
Diasta nodded, then smiled slightly and spoke to Briga.
“Thank you, Chef Briga. Thanks to you, I won’t make a mistake.”
Then, as a thought struck her, she added,
“Oh, that reminds me. That egg salad sandwich of yours, Briga. When might I be able to taste it?”
“Pardon?”
Caught off guard, Briga was flustered. She did make egg salad sandwiches often, but they weren’t the kind of food served to the Duke or a precious young lady.
Because, though they were called egg salad sandwiches, they were made from whatever leftovers were available at the time, eaten by the kitchen staff themselves.
‘How does the young lady know about that sandwich?’
Watching Briga’s bewildered expression, Diasta smiled secretly. It was only natural that Briga didn’t know.
On the day Diasta of her previous life was practically driven out of the ducal residence, the thing Briga had secretly slipped her, evading everyone’s eyes, was precisely that egg salad sandwich.
It was the most delicious thing she ate during her painful journey. Though Briga doesn’t know that now.
“It’s so delicious it could make your tears stop falling. Briga’s sandwich.”
At the young lady’s sincere compliment, Briga’s heart gave a loud thump. She hadn’t felt like this since she was ten years old and received a ham that was as big as her torso.
From then on, with her face flushed red, Briga stayed by Diasta’s side the whole time she baked the cookies, volunteering as her kitchen assistant.
Seeing Briga, known as the tyrant of the kitchen, beaming and grinning, the kitchen staff were so shocked that they looked back and forth between Briga and the young lady many times.
