IMBSM 13

Chapter: 13

“So that’s why you didn’t even come to my sister’s funeral?”

“Yeah. They said they couldn’t find the body.”

Ivnia thought he had truly tormented himself over something foolish.

From her perspective, the rules Ram had believed in and followed so faithfully had done him no good at all—if anything, they had only harmed him.

If he had simply come to Hesse directly… if everyone had known what kind of person he was from the start… if the count and his wife hadn’t hidden Emilia away to raise her in secret… he would have likely already held a grand wedding by now.

If that had happened, then I…

Ivnia pressed down the resentment that was beginning to rise and replied as if nothing were wrong.

“You could’ve just brought her and raised her yourself. Then things wouldn’t have turned out like this.”

“Well, that too is… hmm. It feels a bit strange.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Raise a girl from infancy, change her diapers and all that—and then the moment she turns twenty, marry her? Would you do that?”

Ivnia fell silent, at a loss for words.

It was definitely a disturbing image.

If you raised someone until they came of age, you’d practically be a parent. And then just because they got older, you’re suddenly supposed to call each other ‘darling’ and ‘honey’?

Reactions might differ from person to person, but objectively speaking, it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation.

As Ivnia unconsciously frowned, Ram smiled as if to say, See?

“I don’t want her to give anything up because of me.”

At his words, Ivnia felt as if her heart dropped straight down.

She didn’t know whether it was because the depth of his affection resonated painfully in her chest, or because she felt troubled by the unfortunate consequences that affection had brought.

“I want her to grow up smiling under kind parents, make lots of friends, study whatever she wants… Sure, leaving her hometown might make her a little sad, but if she ever says she misses her family, I can just take her back anytime. I just hope she lives a life where the only thing she misses out on is the fun of dating other men.”

As he spoke, Ram wore a gentler expression than ever before.

He looked so happy just imagining the dream he had failed to achieve that even the person watching him couldn’t help but picture what kind of face he would make if he truly fulfilled that wish.

After staring at him blankly for a long while, Ivnia impulsively asked,

“What will you do now?”

Ram turned to her as if abruptly waking from a dream.

He lifted a whisk and held out a bowl of perfectly whipped cream with stiff peaks toward her.

“What do you mean? This perfectly whipped cream?”

“Not the cream I’m serving with dessert. I mean you, Ram.”

At her blunt reply, Ram let out a soft chuckle and set the whisk down.

Then he said calmly,

“I’ll wait again.”

Had he deflected her question with a joke because he was trying to hide his sadness?

The smile slowly faded from his lips.

Turning his head away as if to hide his face, he stared somewhere far off and murmured again,

“If I wait… someday…”

Instead of interrupting him, Ivnia remained silent, as if she weren’t even there.

It wasn’t as though she had anything in particular she wanted to say.

If there was anyone she wanted to talk to right now, it was not the man in front of her, but the eccentric butler who was probably polishing suits of armor diligently in the hall.

Inwardly, Ivnia freely mocked Guillermo’s foolish plan.

See, Sir Guillermo? I was right.

Ram has absolutely no intention of opening his heart to another woman.

From this man, I can only receive sympathy.

I wasn’t expecting anything more—but a heart that gets discarded before it even begins still feels somewhat cruel.

After hiding her true thoughts safely beneath her tongue, Ivnia finally spoke the most obvious words of comfort.

But she meant them sincerely.

“You won’t have to wait long.”

Only then did Ram’s gaze return to her.

He looked at her with unreadable eyes, then suddenly reached out and tousled the top of her head carelessly.

It was an utterly unpretentious touch—like one would give to a much younger sibling or a friend’s child.

“Thanks for the comfort,” he said, as if proud of her.

She could feel the hair she had carefully brushed becoming a mess, but Ivnia didn’t complain.

It wasn’t that she had grown so comfortable with this man.

It wasn’t that her hairstyle mattered that much to her.

It was just that it had been far too long since she had received such an affectionate touch.

There were plenty of excuses she could make—and perhaps those were all she needed right now.

Leaving Ram alone, Ivnia quietly resumed her work.

“…Are you angry because I touched your hair without asking?”

“It’s fine. For now.”

“Right. So it’s not fine…”

It really was fine.

For now.

For now.

* * *

“Sir Guillermo.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I’m not a priest… And isn’t this something a knight shouldn’t be doing?”

At Ivnia’s question, Guillermo turned to her with a puzzled look, as if asking what she meant.

They were standing side by side in front of a large oven, waiting for the internal temperature to become hot enough.

Though a furnace normally required someone’s hands to operate it, they were literally doing nothing—just standing there.

“Before coming into the kitchen, I thought maybe there’d be an oven that runs on magic or something.”

“If necessary, we could make one. It would take a few trials and errors, of course.”

“…Wouldn’t using magic be much simpler than lighting a fire with firewood?”

“Oh, not at all. Magic requires delicate control—adjusting the amount and form of mana each time. This, on the other hand, works automatically once you order it.”

As he said that, Guillermo daintily pointed at someone with his fingertip.

Right on cue, the “this” he had referred to stopped blowing air into the furnace and broke into a violent coughing fit. He had apparently inhaled ash mixed in the air.

Unable to endure the acrid smoke, the man kept wiping tears streaming down his cheeks with the back of his hand.

But because of the soot on his gloves, his tears and coughing only worsened instead of stopping.

“Cough, hack—!”

“Sir Max, are you alright?”

“I—I’m fine, my lady. I—”

“If you’re fine, hurry up and finish lighting the fire. At this rate, that roast beef over there won’t get into the oven until midnight.”

Saying that, Guillermo poked Sir Max’s cheek with an elegant cane that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

It was a scene of exploitation that was hard to watch with open eyes.

Ivnia wanted to volunteer to do it herself, but if she did, Guillermo would surely poke Sir Max again with that cane like he was prodding kindling.

In fact, every time Ivnia had tried to help Sir Max before, Guillermo had gradually increased the intensity of his criticism.

Saying things like he was trash who couldn’t even light a proper fire and had to dirty a lady’s hands.

Though he had lived his life wearing tattered armor, perhaps Sir Max still had his pride.

Guillermo’s abstract insults seemed to pain him more than the very real smoke did.

“I-It seems the flames have stabilized now!”

“Honestly. Go bring more of the firewood you split yesterday. Before the embers you barely managed to keep alive go out again.”

Sir Max, who had looked as happy as if he’d just been promoted, immediately slumped his shoulders at Guillermo’s words.

Ivnia watched his retreating back toward the storage room with sympathetic eyes.

Once Guillermo confirmed they were alone, he discreetly pulled something out from inside his coat.

Holding it out toward Ivnia as if urging her to take it, he said,

“Here. Take this.”

Then he carefully glanced again at the door and the windows, looking suspicious—like someone about to commit an act that absolutely must not be discovered.

As if he were secretly smuggling out something important.