Chapter 23
The old man was tall, with a straight back.
Deep wrinkles had been carved into his face by time, yet he did not appear frail.
He possessed the solid, imposing weight that only someone who had stood at the pinnacle of power for many years could carry.
His once silver hair had faded over the years until it was nearly pure white, while his bright blue eyes remained sharp enough to pierce through anything.
“You’ve returned, Father.”
Osborne was the first to straighten himself and bow.
“My respects, Your Grace.”
Cain also lowered his head.
The Duke slowly surveyed the two men.
“So it’s true.”
He said coldly.
“The masters of the house were fighting in front of their servants.”
“I apologize, Father.”
“……”
Osborne bowed immediately, but Cain remained silent.
“Enough.”
The Duke spoke curtly.
“One of you is incapable of saying something you doesn’t truly mean, while the other is acting. I can see it plainly on your faces.”
Cain closed his mouth.
The Duke’s sharp gaze swept over the two men, then shifted to Renard, and finally came to rest on Luciella.
“So.”
“All this commotion over letting a mere child into the kitchen—is that true?”
“The child has done nothing wrong. She was simply helping Bael—”
“Silence.”
The Duke frowned and cut off Cain.
His eyes returned to Luciella.
“Tell me your name and age.”
“…I’m Luciella. I’m fourteen.”
“You’re an age better suited for running errands than being a cook.”
The Duke shook his head with clear disapproval.
“Exactly what I’ve been saying, Father.”
Osborne quickly interjected.
“It would be better to transfer her to Theo’s service as a maid—”
“Entrusting the household affairs to you does not mean you may take away a child brought here by Cain.”
The Duke’s words were like a blade.
Osborne flinched and immediately shut his mouth.
However, his eyes subtly shifted toward Renard, silently signaling him.
“Y-Your Grace.”
Renard bowed his head.
“As you said, the child is simply too young. If she’s a cook, she would be my subordinate, but she’s far too young for me to command. If she were to get hurt, that would be troublesome.”
“…A reasonable point.”
“Your Grace.”
Cain stepped forward, but the Duke showed no intention of listening.
“Cain, you are like a son to me. Since you are one of the masters of this estate, you may provide her with food and shelter if you wish.”
“That child surpasses any chef in skill. She is not some pitiful little girl in need of charity—”
“But if the kitchen refuses to accept her, then find her another place.”
The Duke cut him off.
“Use her as a maid. Give her money and send her away. Decide that yourself.”
Then he frowned slightly.
“And remember this.”
“If something as trivial as this damages the dignity of the family, even I will not overlook it—not even for you.”
“I cannot back down.”
“Cain!”
Their gazes clashed fiercely.
“Since when did you stop obeying my words?”
“She is my benefactor as well.”
Cain answered firmly.
“If I have the right to stand here as a child of Bellaon, then that child has every right to stand here too.”
“I will decide who has that right!”
The Duke roared.
“My head already aches.”
“If I see such disgrace again, both of you should prepare to be disowned.”
Cain tried to stop him again, but the Duke had already turned around.
His overwhelming authority left no one willing to stand in his way.
No one—
except one person.
“…What is it?”
The Duke raised an eyebrow and looked down at the girl tugging on his cloak.
It was Luciella.
“How dare you lay your hands on—”
“Please drink this before you go.”
Somehow, she had produced a small cup.
Inside was a golden-brown liquid.
“What is this?”
“It’s tea brewed from Dawn Dew Grass.”
She smiled.
“It’ll help with your headache.”
The Duke looked at her in bewilderment.
It was difficult to shout at her.
The eyes gazing up at him looked far too innocent and young.
This is exactly why I intended not to deal with her directly.
“My headaches are chronic.”
He said.
“They aren’t something you can cure.”
“You do suffer from chronic fatigue.”
Luciella nodded.
“But the headache you’re feeling right now isn’t just from stress or exhaustion.”
“You’re deficient in magnesium.”
“Magne… what?”
“Magnesium.”
“My mother said it’s a nutrient used to maintain bones and muscles. Apparently, it becomes harder to absorb as people get older.”
“……”
“Doctors often mistake the symptoms for stress or fatigue. When magnesium deficiency lasts a long time, headaches can feel chronic. Mom experimented and discovered that Dawn Dew Grass contains a lot of magnesium.”
“I thought brewing it would allow your body to absorb it more quickly.”
…What on earth is she talking about?
The Duke looked down at the little hand offering him the cup before slowly raising his eyes to her face.
He didn’t understand most of what she said.
However, he knew that Dawn Dew Grass was commonly used as tea leaves.
He personally disliked it because of its bitterness, but everyone knew it wasn’t harmful.
Long ago, one of Bellaon’s physicians—
Aila Luan—
had even recommended it.
So this wasn’t an assassination attempt?
“…How troublesome.”
“You prepared this so quickly?”
He snatched the cup from her hand and drank it in one gulp.
“Are you satisfied now?”
“This won’t change my mind.”
“……”
“I’ll overlook this once because of your age, but if you ever grab my clothing again, I’ll hold Cain responsible for bringing you—”
The Duke abruptly stopped speaking.
Then blinked several times.
Something felt strange.
As soon as he emptied the cup, the dizziness that had plagued him moments earlier seemed to vanish completely.
Slowly, he pressed his temple.
Just moments ago, even the slightest touch had sent pain shooting through his head.
Now—
there was nothing.
A coincidence?
The timing felt too strange for that.
“…Have you studied medicine?”
“Not medicine.”
Luciella answered.
“My mother taught me a little nutrition.”
“Hm.”
The Duke cleared his throat.
“So you’re not entirely foolish.”
“But let me make this clear again.”
“Nothing has changed.”
“You cannot use the kitchen.”
“…Not even for a little while tonight?”
“What for?”
“Well…”
“Today, I was planning to make Cheese Waterfall Tteokbokki for Bael.”
“Cheese Waterfall Tteok—”
“Hmph!”
The Duke shook his head quickly.
For a moment, merely hearing the name had made it sound delicious.
But now was not the time for that.
A family head who could not uphold principles was unworthy of the position.
“I cannot prioritize your request over the authority of a chef with ten years of service.”
“You have proven neither your qualifications nor your contributions to House Bellaon.”
“And how do I prove them?”
The Duke sighed.
She said she wanted to cook for Bael.
A sharp pain stabbed at his heart.
When was the last time he had seen that child?
The pale face sitting on the bed, struggling merely to breathe, painfully resurfaced in his mind.
“You cannot.”
He spoke softly.
“What use is food to that child?”
Neither doctors.
Nor shamans.
Nor anyone else had managed to cure him.
How could this young girl succeed?
Cain had probably brought her here simply to give Bael someone his own age.
Though with the boy’s twisted temperament, even that had likely failed.
“Bael will not recover.”
He muttered quietly.
“……”
Luciella opened her mouth as if to speak.
Then stopped.
And stared at the Duke.
“Do you have something more to say?”
“No, it’s just…”
She pointed.
“Over there…”
The Duke raised an eyebrow.
Looking closely, he realized she wasn’t looking at him at all.
She was staring at something behind him.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Everyone around them had turned their eyes toward the same place.
Clop.
Clop.
The sound of hoofbeats.
Slowly, the Duke turned around.
A glossy black horse came into view.
Its mane flickered like flames beneath the setting sun.
Its long legs stepped evenly across the grass as it approached.
And seated upon its tall back—
was a boy.
“Cedric…”
A low voice escaped the Duke’s lips.
No.
Narrowing his eyes, he realized it wasn’t Cedric.
But a boy who looked exactly like him.
Silver hair.
Bright blue eyes.
The boy who had left his bed for the first time in two years.
The child who, the last time the Duke had seen him, had been pale and emaciated, barely able to breathe—
Was now sitting proudly atop a horse, facing the setting sun head-on.
It was—
Bael.
