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Chapter One: Even Now, the Thunderbird Plush Sits by My Pillow

Chapter One: Even Now, the Thunderbird Plush Sits by My Pillow

“HOLY Night celebration?”

One afternoon, during my first winter with my lord husband, before we had our wedding ceremony, I woke from my nap to find him already home from work. Oh, I didn’t get to greet him at the door.

It was snowing in the capital, just like in Longhurst, though because less snowfall accumulated, the weather didn’t seem as cold.

My lord husband stirred the burning coals in the fireplace with a poker then sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped me in a shawl. “Yes, that’s why I finished early today. I’m home,” he said with a smile, kissing me on the forehead.

“Welcome home, my lord! Can we take a stroll?!”

“I’m afraid not. It’s snowing heavily outside.”

The scene beyond my window had turned a stark white while I was asleep. No wonder the room looked a little dark. I thought I’d overslept.

“What’s a Holy Night celebration?”

“Erm, well. It’s a festival, of a sort.”

“A festival?! Will there be a bonfire?!” I almost jumped off the bed, but my lord husband caught me.

“It’s not that kind of festival. It’s a night when spirits are born, so we stay home and spend time with the family, I guess.”

“I read about spirits in a book! I didn’t see any in the Monster King’s forest though. Have you seen one before, my lord?”

After being told I was free to peruse any of the books in the household’s library, I blitzed through most of them. Tabitha even read some of them to me. The books at Longhurst were all documents and treatises on territorial management; there are so many more types of books in the Noel collection.

My lord husband pulled me onto his lap and started to comb his fingers through my hair. “No, I haven’t. Oh—it’s also when elves leave presents by the pillows of well-behaved children.”

“Those tiny terrors?! But they’re mean! They always trailed behind the Monster King and nipped at its heels!”

“Oh, so there are such creatures in the forest…? I see… Anyway, I don’t think the Holy Night elves are actual gnomes or anything.”

“Not gnomes, my lord. Tiny terrors.”

“Oh… I-I guess not then. Anyway, those are mostly fairy tales. Like the ones in the library, yes?”

“I see!”

After that, we played fox and geese until dinnertime. It’s a board game with one fox piece and thirteen geese pieces.

“Fox! Why?!”

“Wow!” I cheered.

He always wins, regardless of side. But finally, after eight rounds, my fox was victorious.

Dinner was a Holy Night feast and a special occasion, so Tabitha and the others joined us. There was even a whole bird in the middle of the table! As head of the household, my lord husband sliced it beautifully, then served the meat on plates along with its carrot-and-bean stuffing. He was as good with the knife as he is his sword.

“A log! A log cake!” I cried with delight.

A roll of sponge cake filled with chopped fruit and fresh cream arrived next, covered in light-brown chocolate cream streaked to resemble tree bark and a row of tiny red strawberries lightly dusted with powdered sugar. Strawberries! Strawberries in winter!

A small sugar figurine wearing a red triangular hat was also placed on my plate.

“As expected, our lady has gone right for the head,” someone observed.

It was crunchy and delicious.

◆◆◆

ON snowy days when the wind is absent, the forest is much quieter than usual. The trees stand still and silent, coated in soft snow.

The Monster King stands still too. The snow is too deep in winter, so the small human who gives it potatoes doesn’t come.

The spring that sparkles blue in summer lies asleep under a thin sheet of ice feathered with powder. Its frosty blanket reflects the light from the moon and stars, making the forest seem as bright as day even in the dark night.

The Monster King’s numerous black arms and legs are submerged under a soft layer of snow, which shines blue as it piles up, slowly hiding the Monster King from view. The Monster King remains still.

Not many monsters are out and about in winter, and the Monster King had defeated many of them during the harvest festival, so there is little chance it will be attacked. And so, it waits by the spring, undisturbed. Its stomach is empty, but that’s all right.

From time to time, it blinks several of its countless eyes, causing accumulated snow to fall to the ground. It looks at the trees around it, then up at the sky, and back at the frozen spring.

Everywhere, everything is asleep.

Although the Monster King is unbothered by heat or cold, it understands differences in temperature. It knows snow is cold, but it can’t freeze or die from exposure.

It merely feels the chill.

And so the Monster King stays motionless until spring arrives. When spring comes, then… Oh, that’s right.

The small human with potatoes no longer comes.

He’d grown large, then turned small and wrinkled again.

He hasn’t come for many springs. About sixteen have passed since his last appearance, remembers the Monster King.

Spring is there, but the small human isn’t. Huh?

The Monster King must be confused. I can feel—

◆◆◆

“—A-ARE you awake?”

My eyes snapped open. “…My lord? What’s that?”

His face hovered over mine. We’d begun to sleep in the same bed, so waking next to him was normal. But he was usually beside me, not above me.

He was frowning as if troubled, his gaze averted from mine. I twisted to glimpse his arms stretching toward somewhere above my pillow.

“Thunderbird! It’s a thunderbird!” I gasped.

A stuffed thunderbird so big I didn’t think I could hold it even with both arms! Though it was still smaller than the actual creature! I threw off the comforter and squeezed the plush tight.

When I was the Monster King, I used to eat thunderbirds all the time, and because I usually finished them in one bite, I’d never had the chance to hug one before.

“Wow! So fluffy!”

It was so soft and warm! I buried my face into the thunderbird, and its fur tickled my cheek and forehead. What a pleasant feeling.

“What’s this?! What’s this, my lord?!” I asked in a tizzy.

“E-Erm… You know, it’s your Holy Night present.”

“From the tiny terrors?!”

“No, not them.”

“Yes, not them! It’s from you, my lord!”

“Y-Yes! It’s from me.”

“Yes! Thank you! I was well-behaved!”

He laughed. “Yes, you were the best.”

I couldn’t see out the window since the thick curtains were drawn shut, but I knew the snow was still soundlessly falling outside. Inside, however, the fire crackled in the fireplace, and the room rang with my lord husband’s laughter as he cradled me and the thunderbird in his arms.

The lamp on the sideboard glowed a bright orange, my flower candies glittering in its radiance. It felt as warm as spring sunshine.

“It’s not yet dawn, so let’s go back to sleep,” he said.

“Yes! …Wait, like this! Here!”

The thunderbird put too much distance between us, so I shifted until my back was against my lord husband. That way, I could hold the thunderbird while he held me.

With a goodnight kiss, he rubbed his cheek against my hair and wrapped me in a gentle embrace.

Winter was always cold as the Monster King and as Abigail in Longhurst. For the first time, I realized that winter could be warm too.

Chapter Two: I Get the Most Magnificent Send-off

Chapter Two: I Get the Most Magnificent Send-off

WITH the servants and assistants at Longhurst’s administrative manor gone, the fourth prince will return with us to the capital. We’d originally planned to stay ten days, but our trip didn’t last even half that.

The fourth prince asked favor after favor of my lord husband, who simply feigned ignorance, until we decided to leave. I don’t mind departing early since I’ve already found the stone at the forest spring for him.

I helped the fourth prince with packing when we were trying to escape from the dragon, yet I don’t get the chance to do so again. Everything is already loaded by the time we get back from our stroll. I should have told him I wanted to. I would have been very useful.

We must merely board our carriage, but before we do, my lord husband and I visit the mulberry tree behind the manor at my request.

“Here, my lord. Slash this branch here!”

“Cut!” He wields his magic with ease, slicing through the thin branch with a sharp, diagonal slash. “Is this another souvenir for Ethan, Abby?”

“I want to bring it home and get the old grandfather to plant it. It seems to want to come with us.”

“Hmm? I see… The capital is a four-day journey from here. We’ll have to try to keep it alive.”

We pick up the branch and hand it to a servant before heading back to the front drive. I’m sure our elderly gardener will raise it well, and when it bears fruit, Tabitha will make cobbler for me again. What a great thing to look forward to! I swing our clasped hands happily as we walk. My lord husband chuckles and pivots our hands higher.

Several carriages, including the fourth prince’s, line the drive. Without servants to trim the adjacent hedges, it seems narrow and cramped, the overgrowth almost brushing the vehicles. The flowers planted along the paved stone leading to the gate are beginning to wither as well. The dry soil, bereft of leaf cover, is clearly visible. That can’t be helped; there’s no old grandfather to tend to them.

The fourth prince raises his right hand in greeting upon sighting us.

Abruptly, my lord husband lets go of my hand and darts in front of me.

“Monster!” someone shouts.

A loud clang rings out as a rock the size of my fist drops to the ground and rolls away.

My lord husband used his sheathed sword to knock it from the air. Although I was behind him, I saw everything clearly. He’s so strong.

A screaming human dashes from an unkempt bush and is quickly subdued by Haggis. I don’t think I’ve seen them before.

◆◆◆

ABIGAIL’S assailant seems to be a boy around ten years of age, and the guards manage to apprehend two grown men as well. They shout and curse, spouting the same vitriol as the former Longhurst staff: all of the territory’s misfortune is the fault of the golden-eyed.

“I know you’d like to deal with these men yourself, sir, but if I may?”

“All authority lies with you, Your Highness.”

A few days hence we abandoned Longhurst’s assistants and the other criminals in the forest, and since then, more and more of their family members have come to the manor in protest. The sight of so many unruly commoners in one place has carved a permanent grimace of distaste on Prince Dominic’s face.

In Drewett, although the boundary of peerage is ever present, the nobility strives to maintain close ties with the lower class. The lack of such respect in Longhurst indicates that they’ve suffered so much disdain that they no longer regard the country’s royalty as their leaders.

The manor is located downtown, right in the heart of the city, fenced not by a stone wall but an ornate cast-iron fence and holly trees for privacy. I’d left the task of securing the manor’s grounds to the fourth prince’s guards that day, and a lapse must have occurred to enable the men to sneak in. I should have been more vigilant.

The captured men are handed over to the knights who are staying behind to guard the manor. To lob rocks in the presence of royalty is a crime punishable by immediate beheading, which will set an example for the rest of the civilians. They must understand that such actions will not be tolerated.

“I don’t really like doing this…but it’ll be troublesome if people think I’m too softhearted.”

“Please do as Your Highness deems fit. But the knights need more security training.”

“…Y-Yes, you’re right. They’ll need to learn from the lady,” the fourth prince chokes out as he turns away, stifling a grin beneath his hand.

…What?

“My lord! Here! Throw a rock at me!”

I twist to see Abigail frowning in concentration as she hefts a thick branch in both hands. “Huh…”

“I can do it too! Come!”

I see. So she watched me knock the rock from the air and wants to try it too…

Like I’d ever hurl a rock at her. Before I can think of an excuse, Rodney approaches with a leather bag that’s been rolled up and tied with string to resemble a ball. Yes, that shouldn’t hurt even if it hits her by mistake.

“If the lady insists,” Rodney says. “Just this once.”

“Yes!”

“Here!” He tosses the ball gently and it sails smoothly toward her.

“Hah!”

The branch in her right hand swooshes through the air as she catches the ball with her left.

Wait, isn’t that a more difficult move?! What was that?!

◆◆◆

I beg Rodney to throw the ball again, but he just picks it up and moves away.

Why did my left hand do that? Before I can find out, we’ve boarded the carriage and set off.

Tabitha quickly confiscated the nice branch I found in a pile of fallen leaves, so I can only pretend to hold it. If the ball comes this way, here! If it goes that way, there!

I’m sure I’ll hit it the next time, so I’ll get my lord husband to throw balls at me later during a rest stop.

Seated opposite me, he comments, “You seem to be good at sports but not so much with tools…”

“That’s not true. I can do it.” I move to sit beside him and remove my shoes so I can more comfortably look out the window. I’ve rehearsed the scenario flawlessly and am a little out of breath.

“Have you finished practicing?”

“Yes! I’m perfect now!”

“I-I see.”

The sky is slightly cloudy, I notice. It will definitely rain once we leave the territory.

My lord husband twirls strands of my hair around his finger, and the gentle tugging motion in conjunction with the swaying of the carriage feels so pleasant.

“Abigail.”

“Yes?”

I watch a flock of tiny, white-bellied birds dart into the forest. Though not monsters, they probably live there. The strong will devour the weak anywhere, so they’re hardly safer outside it.

“We’re only bringing the mulberry home. What about the oak and other trees?”

“They’ll be going back to the forest, so they’re fine,” I answer.

“Going back…? I see. I guess so.”

The acorns had flown into the forest as well, so the trees will follow.

My lord husband pulls me onto his lap and holds me tight.

🎂🎂🎂

AT our first stop, I sit and enjoy some herbal tea brewed by Rodney. The fourth prince arrives soon after and joins us, his gaze lingering on the rear of the carriage Rodney and the other servants are travelling in.

“Are those mushrooms drying on the rumble seat…?”

That’s right. The rumble seat. I asked to sit there once and was told no. We’ve strung it with forest mushrooms, which must have caught his eye. Maybe he hasn’t seen mushrooms before.

“They’re souvenirs for Ethan; you can’t take them,” I inform him.

“Oh, I don’t want them. Huh, why do you look surprised?”

I thought he would want them because they’re so shiny. I was wrong.

My lord husband clucks his tongue. “My wife picked them as a souvenir. We’re drying them so they won’t spoil before we get home.”

“Right. That’s all good, but why do they look like that?!”

“There are thousands of species of mushroom.”

“Huh? Really?”

My lord husband, Rodney, and even Tabitha nod, which seems to finally convince the fourth prince.

I see. Perhaps the mushrooms in the capital aren’t shiny. That must mean mine are rare. Ethan will surely be pleased. I did well!

◆◆◆

AFTER tea, Abigail asks Rodney to throw the ball at her again, and as expected, she catches it with her hand instead of the branch each time. Over and over, cocking her head to one side as though she doesn’t understand why she’s caught it. I don’t understand either.

“You’re sweating, Abby. Try again later.”

Her lips tighten in a dissatisfied frown, but she lets Tabitha dab the sweat from her brow. The sight is adorable, and Prince Dominic, sitting nearby and struggling to hold in laughter, lets out a pained sigh.

“This is supposed to be a break, but my stomach hurts…”

“It’s a good chance to train your abdominals, Your Highness.”

“But I—”

“You’ve not been training daily, have you?”

“But those documents are in such a terrible mess! How am I supposed to have time or energy to train?!”

I know he was researching various matters during our stay at Longhurst. The murdered officials had likely started to reorganize the available records, and I suppose there are uncountably many to read and digest. I have to give him credit though for his determination to read through them himself rather than leave the task to his aides.

Meanwhile, Abigail looks somewhat dazed as Tabitha wipes down her neck and hair with a towel. She must be feeling sleepy after all the exercise.

“It’s not that I’m stooping down to doing work, just that I’d like to secure my position and lay a foundation for the future, you know.”

“Oh.” I spread my arms as my little chick stumbles over.

“You’re the second son yourself, sir. We usually become assistant to the eldest, but you stepped out on your own and made a name for yourself.”

“Yes.”

Prince Dominic had instructed the knights who arrived before us and some of his staff to remain at the manor until the newly appointed administrators arrive. Usually, officials familiar with the territory are appointed to manage it, but that certainly didn’t work out in Longhurst. The locals were totally unreliable and had even resorted to murder. The additional security will deter further transgression.

“I’m low in the line of succession, but I do well and am well-liked. I know Father assigned me Longhurst as a chance to prove myself, and I’d like to live up to his expectation. Who knew things would turn out so rough…”

I understand the prince’s complaint. And the circumstances will only worsen. When we left, the ground was already dry and the vegetation wilted, long before the advent of summer. Even the mulberry trees with their heavy boughs of fruit and the oaks’ out-of-season acorns have all but disappeared.

It’s not hard to imagine what will happen next. How long can the commoners, so accustomed to abundant harvests that they dare throw stones at royalty, endure a desiccated land?

Not that I have any intention of warning them!

They’ll find out for themselves eventually. And though the royal family may be dragged into the following mess, that will be by its own doing. It decided to annex the territory in the first place.

Drowsy with sleep, Abigail stands between me and where Prince Dominic sits at the tea table. The crown of her head as she leans against my shoulder feels so warm. How hard she must have exerted herself…

“Are you even listening, sir? Look, I won’t ask you to accompany me here next time, so can the lady please—”

Abigail thrusts her small fist in front of the prince’s face.

“Huh?!”

Oh…

“Huh, what? What is it, my lady?”

“For you.”

Confused, he cups his hands as she drops something into them. Then he yelps. “What?! What’s this?! It’s buzzing! Argh! What is it!?”

“A grasshopper,” she murmurs.

“H-Huh? Why?! Why a grasshopper?!”

“Come, Abby. Let’s go back to the carriage,” I suggest.

“Wait! Wait up! What should I do with this?!”

“My wife will catch a cold if she falls asleep outdoors. Please excuse us.”

That’s it. Abigail is good at catching flying creatures. That was why she kept catching the ball with her hand. Why didn’t it occur to me sooner?

◆◆◆

THE following day, just as we are about to cross Longhurst’s border, the servant we sent ahead rushes back in panic. Normally, the servant rides to the next settlement to prepare for our arrival. He reserves our lodging before meeting us at the town’s edge. Yet he presently stands outside our carriage, speaking with my lord husband, who appears very grim.

Tabitha and Rodney have also alighted from their carriage; they frown as they listen to the conversation. I try to frown as well. Just like a Drewett! Very stern!

I have amazing hearing, so I can listen too. The servant is saying that he can’t find lodging for us.

“But His Highness’s entourage managed to secure lodging?” asks my lord husband.

“Yes…at the same inn we stayed at on our way to Longhurst. That’s the only place that can accommodate a party of our size. They insisted they’re full, and I know that can’t be true because I looked in the stables.”

“I see. I understand why they said that… How disappointing.”

I wonder why he thinks the inn is disappointing. We had delicious cherries there. I’m sure the cherries will be tasty this time too.

My lord husband pats the defeated-looking servant on the shoulder, then turns as I poke my head out of the window. Our eyes meet, and he strides toward me.

I jump and he catches me in midair. How quickly he moves!

“Didn’t Tabitha teach you to wait for someone to escort you off the carriage?”

“Oh, that’s right!” I’d forgotten.

He returns to where she and the others are gathered, cradling me in his arms. “Well, since His Highness will be staying in the next town, how about we camp out somewhere around here?”

“We’ll be sleeping outdoors?!” I exclaim.

“Y-Yes. It’s your first time, right? It won’t be as comfo—”

“We’ll be eating outdoors too?! Who will cook the food?!”

“Ah, yes. Rodney and I will—”

“You will cook, my lord?!”

“…Yes. I’m glad you seem fine with the idea.”

The last time I slept outdoors was when I was the Monster King! Falling asleep in my lord husband’s lap will feel amazing!

Where shall we set up camp? I think back to the areas we passed that day. The clearings along the road where a large grassland has overtaken the trees will make great sleeping spots.

“What’s this? I hear from my servants that your people will be camping? I’ll join you then,” declares the fourth prince when he catches up to us.

“Your servants have secured an inn for Your Highness, so please proceed,” my lord husband replies.

“I’ve camped out before, and you know I’m not the sort of royal who’s too arrogant to read between the lines.”

“Then please read between the lines and spare your knights the worry.”

“Well, if you put it that way! I guess you’re right!”

The fourth prince leaves with much reluctance. I feel sorry for him. Sleeping outdoors is so much fun. Maybe I can gather some mushrooms and leaves for him.

We separate from his entourage and shop around town for a bit before retreating down the road.

“How about this spot?!” I cry.

“It looks a little small,” judges Rodney.

“Oh! Oh! How about that spot there?!”

“I think somewhere flatter will be good.”

I continue to point out various options through the carriage window. There are so many to choose from.

Just before nightfall, we arrive at a rest stop often used by travelers and merchants. It is grassy with a great view, and a short walk from a stream. We’ll have a campfire, so an open area is good. We can’t light fires in forests.

The guards split up to scout the surrounds, gather firewood, and fetch water. The driver tends to the horses. Since we hadn’t planned to camp, Rodney and Tabitha are busy with the other servants, sorting through our luggage to retrieve what we’ll need.

My lord husband settles onto one of the logs scattered around and starts to tend to his sword.

What shall I do…? I know!

“Where are you going?”

“To get dinner!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He pulls me back down as I make to stand. “We bought ingredients in town, remember?”

“But we don’t have a head cook, my lord. As mistress of the house, I need to take his place and make arrangements.”

“Head cooks don’t gather their own ingredients.”

“Our chef told me he used to hunt rabbits and deer in Drewett.”

“I see. I forgot you’re friends with him.”

Yes, we are friends. He doesn’t talk much but has taught me a lot about food and cooking. I know he has a wife, who’s great at martial arts, and a small daughter too.

A guard returns with water, so I decide to tag along as he goes to bucket more.

As I reach for a pail, the guard hands me my washbasin, which is much lighter. That’s better.

“Oh! Mouse grapes! My lord! Mouse grapes!”

“Wait, stay put! I’ll pick them! …I can’t see them. Your vision is too good.”

The fruits, as tiny as my pinky fingernail, grow in the obscuring shadow of the plant’s tangled leaves and vines. They’re called mouse grapes because mice are usually the first to find them.

I point toward the back of the grove beside the path leading to the stream, and my lord husband pushes through the foliage to find the grapes.

“Here you go, though they may be too sour for yo—… Wait, they’re sweet?” He sounds surprised.

There were no mouse grapes in the woodland behind the Longhurst mansion, so I haven’t eaten them since becoming Abigail. I’m glad they’re sweet. I place one bunch in my washbasin and the rest in my lord husband’s bigger bucket.

The stream is about the width of four large paces and knee-deep at most. I can easily discern the stones in the riverbed. The setting sun is starting to dye the sky red, capping the gentle swells of the water in gold.

Below the surface, a shadow slithers past… There! I run past the guard to the stream’s edge.

“Ah, wait!”

“Freeze!”

Numerous small bolts of lightning strike the water with loud crackling noises.

◆◆◆

AN assortment of fresh fish floats to the surface, their white bellies face up.

Abigail turns to us, a proud look on her face.

“That wasn’t even the right incantation…” I sigh.

The point isn’t to yell random words before you cast a spell!

“Oh, Master! The fish are floating away! It would be such a waste!”

“L-Let’s go!”

The guards dash into the river without a shred of hesitation and begin to toss the fish toward the bank.

I am blessed to have such men serving my family.

Abigail is starting to kick off her shoes, and I stop her quickly before dumping all the mouse grapes into her basin. I load my bucket with the stunned fish.

She insists on holding the basin as we walk back, and her bouncing gait sends grapes tumbling out with each step. But that doesn’t matter as long as she’s happy. Mouse grapes are normally so sour that only rodents like them, yet ours are sweet and tasty… Well, I guess that’s part of her Gift too.

Rodney is already cooking when we return to camp, and although we weren’t expecting additional ingredients, he glances at the pail of fish and nods as if he has an idea. “As expected of the lady.”

“Right.”

Abigail passes her basin to Tabitha and wanders toward the fire, likely because it’s larger compared to when we first kindled it. “Potatoes! I smell potatoes!”

“They’re not ready yet,” Rodney tells her. “They need more time to cook through.”

“Yes! So Rodney can cook too, not just brew tea!”

He coughs, yet his knife doesn’t slow. “Th-Thank you.” Unlike the surrounding guards who are choking back laughter, he is accustomed to her strange remarks.

“Step back from the fire, Abby,” I warn as I tug her from where she kneels by the pot. I did so merely because I didn’t want her to get too hot peering at the flames, and as I watch Tabitha brush a hand over Abigail’s bangs, I am additionally glad I intervened. She’s just too clumsy.

Abigail crouches a little further from the fire, bobbing happily on the balls of her feet. I position myself behind her just in case she loses her balance. I mustn’t take my eyes off her. I ignore the affectionate gazes of everyone watching us… Argh, stop it already! I have no choice but to stand here!

“Oh.”

Rodney is adding the chopped ingredients to the pot, and Abigail quickly queues behind him. I spot some strips of salmon jerky in her hand. Does she want to add that?

She spends so much time in our kitchens that she’s probably tried to cook on her own, though the way she wields a knife makes the chef and even myself occasionally feel faint. After numerous attempts, we managed to convince her that cooking is not a lady’s job. Indeed, most noblewomen only do so as a hobby. We’re all thankful that she gave up.

The guards have also gathered close, keeping an eye on the grilling fish as they check their weapons and monitor the clearing. It’s good that they relax while they can before I assign the night rotation. I’d been hoping to reduce their number, but that is out of the question since we’re camping outdoors. They’re all used to such duties, as are Rodney and I, but the inn’s denial has hit a nerve.

The last time we stayed there, the staff expressed fear and disgust at Abigail’s golden eyes, though they have no idea who she really is. They claim no availability, yet I have no doubt as to the real reason they won’t let us stay overnight again. The locals in the city of Longhurst were similar, and in lying to nobility, both have gone too far. I could have used my authority to force their hospitality, but I refuse to make Abigail or the servants uncomfortable or give the inn a single cent of my money.

Longhurst as a whole is simply too entrenched in outdated tradition and lore. Once again, I wish it nothing but ruin.

Certainly, Abigail is a little different from others, but that’s only because of her upbringing. Once someone bothers to spend time with her, they quickly realize that she harbors none of the evil that people expect. That’s why everyone in the Noel household has come to accept her unique Gift without suspicion. And, of course, because I hire only the most outstanding servants.

“What are you doing? Are you cracking something?” Abigail approaches one of the veteran guards who is fiddling with a couple of walnuts while watching the fish.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just something I do to keep my hands busy. Would you like one?” He cracks open the nuts with one hand and her golden eyes widen.

“Wow, you’re strong. I want to try too. Huh…?”

Her palm is too small to hold two at once. She lifts her hand high as if that will help, and naturally it doesn’t. The guard tries to show her the trick of rubbing the nuts together to crack them, but unfortunately, she lacks the strength to grip them correctly.

“Show me the trick again please!”

“…Of course.”

“Wow! Again! Again, please… My lord?”

I take one of the walnuts from her and crush it in one hand.

“Wow! My lord is so strong!”

“…You’ve crushed the nut inside as well, Master.”

Oh, it doesn’t matter, does it?! Stop looking at me like that! Stop!

◆◆◆

THE grilled fish skewers are so tasty, and so is the vegetable and salmon jerky soup. I learn that I must eat fish from the side and not begin with the head. I also learn that salmon jerky turns soft when boiled.

And finally, one of the potatoes hidden among the hot coals is placed onto my plate.

“Here you go, my lady. Please wait,” Rodney says. He grills a cube of cheese and… Oh! He puts the melted cheese on top of my potato!

“Wow…” I pierce the potato with a fork, mix in the melted cheese, and wait. I know it’s really hot, yet I’ve waited for a while. It must be cool enough to eat: the melted cheese has become a solid lump!

Hot! It’s still hot! But…

“Delicious!”

“Y-Yes, Abby. Here, have some water.”

“Yes!”

The potato is soft and fluffy, so smooth in combination with the cheese. Scrumptious!

“It’s amazing. It’s not crispy even after being roasted! It’s so fluffy! Rodney is great with fires!”

“Thank you for the wonderful compliment, my lady.”

“Yes!”

The red and yellow flames light my lord husband’s and the others’ faces. The nights are no longer cold, yet the warm feeling that settles inside me doesn’t come from the weather or fire but from everyone’s smiles.

Having fun feels nice and warm.

A sleeping area is set up for Tabitha and me inside a carriage, and I ask to sleep in my lord husband’s lap instead. That’s what camping outside is all about! But he says that won’t make me feel rested, so he layers three blankets on the ground for me.

I remember falling asleep with my head cushioned by his arm, but when I wake, he’s no longer there. I spot him seated by the fire with Walnut the guard, chatting quietly. He frowns, then his eyes crinkle in laughter. He looks like he’s having fun.

His low whispers sound like a gentle breeze through a forest canopy. They make me feel fluttery inside… Huh?

“Oh, sorry. Were we too loud?” He’s sensed that I’m awake. He places his cup on the ground.

No, he wasn’t too loud. I sit up, shaking my head. “It sounded nice.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t wake because of your voice, my lord. I woke because it’s calling me.”

“Calling you? ‘It’?”

I’m closest to the fire, and Rodney and the other guards are resting in a ring around us. I told them that monsters wouldn’t come, yet my lord husband insisted on a watch in case of bandits. Tabitha is sleeping in the carriage.

“We’re the only ones awake,” says my lord husband.

“The monsters are awake too,” I say.

“…Are they coming here?”

Walnut crouches, ready, as my lord husband reaches for the sword by his side.

“Not to attack. The ones who live here are weak—and smart.”

The air is clear, and a short distance separates our grassy clearing and the woodland. The trees aren’t too dense, so I can see the many tiny eyes peering at us from amid the foliage.

“They’re just watching, see?”

“What…?”

I point and both my lord husband and Walnut turn, squinting, though I doubt they can discern anything.

Speaking with monsters isn’t the same as speaking with humans. In fact, it’s not a language at all, and different types communicate in different ways. And I understand every single one. And our onlookers aren’t who woke me.

“Those monsters called to you?”

“No. They’re just watching and talking among themselves.”

“I see.”

Although the night is still, windless, the leaves on the trees sway. Occasionally, insects chirp. Unripe nuts fall from branches with soft plops, and mushrooms puff spores into the air. A stream murmuring nearby seems to slow while the stars overhead twinkle faster.

My lord husband wraps me gently in a blanket.

“Goodbye,” I whisper.

“What?”

“It said, ‘Goodbye.’”

It was silent when I left for the Noel household the previous year. I would have heard it otherwise, even while in the capital.

Since it is saying goodbye, I say goodbye too.

Chapter Three: I’m Already Busy with My Job as the Viscountess

Chapter Three: I’m Already Busy with My Job as the Viscountess

WE’LL arrive in the capital the following day, so the night at the inn is our last on the road. The inn is larger than is typical, probably because of its location near the city, and therefore manages to accommodate both our entourage and the fourth prince’s. Our combined number is impressive, which is why we’ve never lodged at the same establishment before. I think we stayed here on our way to Longhurst as well… I can’t quite remember, though I do recall we ate dinner in our rooms.

I remember the delicious dumplings stuffed with richly flavored meat and soft potatoes. I could only eat one…and I don’t think the fourth prince was there. Probably.

Tonight we will eat in the dining hall. The fourth prince has booked the entire facility “so we can relax,” but I’m always relaxed when my lord husband or Tabitha is around.

“It’s strange. Our trip didn’t last as long as expected, yet I feel as if so much time has passed,” comments the fourth prince.

“If it didn’t last as long as expected, it was a short trip.”

“That wasn’t my point…”

The table is stacked with large plates of food. Usually, Tabitha prepares the appropriate portion for me, but since the fourth prince’s staff is handling the meal, my lord husband serves me instead. Tabitha and Rodney are dining at a table nearby.

“Anyway, how about once a week? That’s surely fine, right?”

“Please do not try to compromise, Your Highness. I’ve already refused.”

“I’m just trying to work this out before we get back, you know.”

Once again, he is requesting my lord husband’s favor. He’s begged every time we meet on the road, and my lord husband always declines. Yet he hasn’t given up.

I finish my rabbit stew. Although the meaty chunks and carrots are filling, my lord husband ladled only a small amount into my bowl. I stare at a dish of what appears to be meat stewed in tomatoes. The meat is almost cylindrical. Perhaps it’s also stuffed with tomatoes. Or maybe it’s a meatball, though it doesn’t look like one. Why is it so round…?

“I mean, I haven’t even gotten the chance to speak to the lady about it since she’s always napping!”

“Longhurst tires her out. Abby, that isn’t the natural shape of the meat.”

Oh, he’s serving it to me! Its surface is brown, likely grilled. I stab it with a fork to prevent it from rolling away and slice it open… Oh! The meat inside isn’t grilled at all! It looks like a meatball wrapped in meat!

“I hear that her body is weak—” the fourth prince starts again.

“I’m strong,” I counter.

“She needs frequent rest, so work at the palace is not suitable at all,” my lord husband reiterates. “Don’t you already have plenty of talented bureaucrats at your disposal?”

I take a bite. The outer meat is thin yet firm, and the meatball inside flaky and juicy as it immediately falls apart on my tongue. I savor the rich fat and fragrant tomato. Delicious!

“True, but the documents we recovered from Longhurst aren’t organized in the least.”

“My lord?”

“It’s bragioli, Abby… My wife has already helped you choose the most important ones to bring back.”

“Bragioli…is meat inside meat,” I note.

The fourth prince coughs.

“I’m sure your aides at the castle can assist you, Your Highness… Abby, I’ll ask our chef to make it if you like.”

“Yes!” The head cook always manages to make tasty dishes even more appetizing.

I really want to eat another piece, but I must save room for dessert. In the meantime, my lord husband passes me half a bread roll, and I dip it into the bragioli sauce. The roll is crispy outside and fluffy inside, how delightful!

“That’s exactly it, sir. We have many specialists, but the lady knows the documents best. She can make predictions and calculations at a glance! I’ve never seen or heard of anyone else doing that before! Oh, don’t cluck your tongue at me! You know it’s true!”

“Dessert is here, Abby. Look, it’s something you didn’t get to try last time.”

“Yes! It’s cannoli!”

“Your aides will do just fine, Your Highness.”

The light-brown tube of dough is filled with so much white cream and reddish-yellow fruit that the mixture spills from both ends.

I yelp as my lord husband starts to cut it in half. “Oh, my lord! I can eat the whole thing! I’ll be fine!”

He merely smiles, then rotates his plate so I can see the cream inside his serving. “Look, mine has nuts instead of fruit. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try both?”

“Please cut mine in half!”

I didn’t know there were different flavors!

He nods, then slices both cannoli and places the halves on my plate.

“Please, my lady, do me a favor,” wheedles the fourth prince. “By the way, sir, I’ve noticed that for someone with such a small appetite, she does love snacking…”

The dough wasn’t baked, so the cannoli is both fluffy and crispy! And I thought the cream was regular cheese at first, but it’s not. It’s ricotta! How smooth! It goes so well with the syrupy apricots.

“She can’t eat much at a time, so she eats frequently. Is it delicious, Abby?”

“Yes!”

“I see…” The fourth prince frowns. My lord husband has told me to ignore him, so I do.

The other cannoli has pistachio nuts and custard cream. It’s just as yummy!

🎂🎂🎂

AFTER lunch the next day, on our last stop before we enter the capital, the fourth prince tries again, his expression serious.

We’ve just finished a bacon, mushroom, and vegetable quiche prepared by the previous night’s inn. Rodney heated it over a fire until it was warm and fluffy and delicious. He’s amazing: he can cook on an open flame without burning anything… Oh? He’s cooking something again… What’s that?!

“A-Are you listening, my lady?” the fourth prince prattles on. “Hey, my lady? …Oh, those are marshmallows.”

“I knew it!”

“Those are s’mores, Abby. They’ll be ready soon, so sit and wait.”

“Yes!”

Rodney twirls the marshmallows on twigs over the fire. Oh, oh, they’re turning brown!They’ll burn!

“My lady, Viscount Noel says that you can help us sort the Longhurst documents—once a week in his office at the military headquarters.”

“Only if she agrees, Your Highness.”

“Yes, so if you would allow me to convince you, my lady. Please, the marshmallows won’t burn, so won’t you listen?”

“They won’t burn because Rodney is amazing,” I say.

“That’s right. I know he’s a great butler,” agrees the fourth prince.

Rodney glances at me with a smile and our eyes meet. Oh! He’s sandwiching the grilled marshmallow skewers between crackers! Pressing on them just a little so the marshmallow sticks!

“My wife is always listening, Your Highness. You can speak without worry.”

“Can’t he just bring the documents to our home, my lord?” I ask.

“It won’t be good for my public image if I send my aides to your estate when the viscount isn’t around or frequently invite you to my personal office. The military headquarters is the best place, my lady,” the fourth prince explains.

“Public image?”

Although my lord husband is nodding, a deep frown creases his face. Rodney deposits the s’more onto a small plate on the table. I poke it and find that it isn’t hot, so I press harder, and the marshmallow begins to squeeze out from between the crackers.

“Wow…”

“What’s wrong?” My lord husband appears confused when I lift the s’more to his lips.

There, the frown is gone. I thought he was angry, but perhaps he’s not. That’s a relief. He breaks the s’more in half—oh, it’s stretching! Not as stringy as cheese, the marshmallow quickly snaps. He bites into one half and holds out the other to me. It’s delicious! Crispy and sticky and fluffy!

“Erm, if I may continue… Is it good?”

“Yes! You should have one, Your Highness!”

“S-Sure, thank you. So, I’d like you to meet with my aides in his office and teach them how to decipher the documents so they can take over in the future. Of course, he will be present at all times, and we’ll prioritize your health and well-being, my lady.”

I don’t know what he means by “deciphering documents,” but it sounds like work. In that case…

“But I’m already busy with my job as the viscountess,” I say.

“O-Of course… May I ask what you do, my lady?”

“First, I have to eat breakfast with my lord, then see him off at the door. Then I help Ethan.”

A mistress of the house reviews the accounts, I’m told. Longhurst’s records and reports were always full of mistakes, but Ethan is good at math, so he never gets anything wrong. Even so, he insists that I confirm that there are no errors.

“I see.”

“After that, I take a stroll in the garden and get cookies from the old grandfather.”

“Hmm?”

“Then I watch the cooks make lunch in the kitchen.”

“You do?”

“Yes, because I’m the mistress of the house. Then I eat lunch, read books in the library, take a nap, take another stroll, eat snacks, and watch them make dinner. After that—”

“As you can see, my wife is a very busy woman—”

“No, please stop, sir. It’s too much for me!” the fourth prince whines.

My lord husband breaks another s’more in half and feeds it to me. It’s still too big to finish in one bite, so I nibble the piece instead. Delicious. I pinch it between my fingers, feeling the marshmallow squish.

A s’more has just two crackers, so what I hold is all the dessert I’ll have for lunch. My mouth feels sticky, yet I won’t drink my tea until all the sweetness has gone.

“You will definitely not be working for free, my lady. You’ll be compensated handsomely, and if there’s anything else you’d like, please tell me.”

“Like a reward?” I ask, thinking of the kisses my lord husband gives me when I do well.

“Abby!” he blurts in shock.

“I don’t need rewards from Your Highness. I already get them from my lord.”

The fourth prince’s face twitches, and my lord husband appears relieved.

Later, as I sip my tea, I recall the cheese tart I ate at the royal palace. And I remember! Delicious cheese is made with delicious milk from amazing cows!

“Wait, I’d like something after all. I want a castle cow.”

“Huh? A cow?”

I initially considered asking for a cow with delicious cheeks, but because the fourth prince lives in the castle with cows that produce delicious milk, I decide on that instead.

Cheeks and milk! It’s great to have both!

◆◆◆

IN the end, we settle on Abigail coming to my office at military headquarters once a week to train Prince Dominic’s aides.

The documents aren’t written in code or anything. They’re simply so disorganized and full of scribbles with no discernible order or structure that “deciphering” is how we can best describe trying to read them. Abigail’s job is to teach the aides how to analyze the data.

I’m sure, given enough time, they would have figured it out by themselves. The royal palace must hire enough talented individuals to do so. And yet…

“Wait, wait. This is where the amounts in this report should go. Why is it written there instead?”

“The calculation was wrong, so I fixed it and wrote it here.”

“If that was wrong, do we need to correct the original numbers too?!”

Through many such exchanges during our journey back, Prince Dominic finally convinced me that the most efficient way to deal with the documents is to have Abigail explain everything.

Logistically, to have administrative officials appointed and stationed at every village in a territory is impossible. In fact, the smaller the settlement, the harder the search for someone who knows how to read, write, and manage accounts. Unsurprising, then, that the reports submitted from such places contain errors, and the territory’s main administrative office usually hires staff to review and correct them.

Longhurst employed numerous administrative officials, and each would have had a small team of subordinates to aid them. The documents and ledgers at the manor should have been disorder- and mistake-free, the information from the various records consolidated and collated to show trends. Without backing data, the earl would have struggled to decide on the right course of action.

When Prince Dominic called us to his office at the manor, Longhurst’s documents were strewn all over the floor, intermixed and unlabeled. With a single glance around the room, Abigail began to point to each, stating the village the report came from, the year it was written, and the recorded yield of which crops.

I know she’s talented. Ethan, astounded by her amazing memory and mental speed, was the first to alert me to them. Since then, I’ve started to allow her to assist with my own work. To be tasked with something delights her.

That said, Ethan’s accounting, and Rodney’s as well, has always been flawless, so I may be biased. I never see crossed-out and corrected mistakes, which means they check the amounts multiple times before even writing them down. I must be blessed to have secured such incredible staff when I established my household!

“Sir, I may be royalty, but at the end of the day, I’m just another noble like you. While I don’t wish to disappoint Father, I want nothing to do with Longhurst. But I can’t just run away with my tail between my legs. No, I need to bring the territory back to order so it at least doesn’t inconvenience the crown.”

“I see.”

“As you’ve said, there are many talented aides in the castle, some of them my own subordinates. Father won’t even know that the lady is assisting us, and I won’t tell him either. So let’s help each other, noble to noble? Yes?”

Thus ended our final conversation with Prince Dominic before we bid one another farewell at the gate into the capital. Our carriages diverge, and we head home, where Ethan awaits us.

I watch him smile as he counts the number of carriages and wagons. I nod to reassure him that we haven’t brought back any livestock. However…

“This is a mad coclear hat, and these are shiny mushrooms! They’re shiny even after drying! And look! This is the molted skin of a snake; see the beautiful fur on it?!”

“Y-Yes.”

“And here’s a stone, so smooth to the touch. Oh, the mad coclear horns are smooth too, and these seeds make a nice sound when you shake them! Which is your favorite, Ethan?! Look, the hat even makes a mooing sound when you put it on!”

“You…seem to like that one a lot, my lady…” His eyes water as Abigail pulls souvenir after souvenir from Rodney’s bag and lines them up on a table.

Rodney, swallowing laughter, is leaning against the wall as if trying to meld with it. My stomach hurts as well.

“Which is your favorite, Ethan?! Is it the mad coclear hat?!”

“…You never miss, my lady. This hat is indeed smooth, as well as nicely shaped, exactly what I like.”

My little chick looks up at me in triumph. “I knew it was perfect for Ethan!” she crows. I pat her on the head with a trembling hand.

Tabitha snorts.

Afterward, Ethan hands me a summary of all that transpired while we were away. After witnessing the mess that is Longhurst’s recordkeeping, I feel only gratitude for his neat and succinct report.

Prince Dominic despaired when he realized the documents weren’t remotely organized, not even by year, but that hadn’t seemed to faze Abigail at all. That was what persuaded me. If she alone could handle them, was there really a need to assign more staff to the endeavor?

“I see,” Ethan says when I tell him my decision. “Though His Highness isn’t fully aware of the lady’s Gift, is he?”

“No, and our deal is that he doesn’t try to find out.”

“He has a reputation of being frivolous yet has enough tact to negotiate using his position… It sounds like a good deal. I think it’s because he does like you, Master.”

“Perhaps, and… Pfft!”

“Master?”

“Sorry, i-it really is perfect for you.”

The mad coclear hat, so large that it covered half of Abigail’s face, fits smartly on Ethan’s head as though tailored. It is just too much to handle.

◆◆◆

FOR the second time, I’m going to the military headquarters to do my job.

The first time, the fourth prince introduced me to two aides. He’s not there the next week, but that doesn’t matter since he’s already delivered a cow with delicious milk to our house.

The aides and I sit on a sofa for our task, while my lord husband and Rodney work at adjacent desks on military matters. I thought military people spend most of their time training, and that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“My lady, it says here that this village grows tomatoes…”

“They meant to write potatoes.”

“I see. That means this one goes here…”

The aides have been processing the documents all week, noting what they don’t understand so we can review those items together. They say that analysis of past data is important in predicting the future, in determining which crops to grow the following year, for example, and how many.

I’ve read books about that, but never believed the claim until our gardener confirmed it. Crops in Longhurst always grew well when I lived there, with no exceptions. Evidently that was because skilled people like the old gardener tended to them. There must be amazing gardeners at the castle too, since the grounds are so beautiful.

Heavy rain still hammers Longhurst. The flooding will wash away all the unharvested crops and any new seedlings. I suspect our old gardener may be the only person capable enough to save them, but my lord husband has asked me not to speak of the affair.

I turn to see him watching me. I nod and he nods back. Yes, I’m doing well.

“I always heard rumors of Longhurst’s magically bountiful harvests, but I never knew they were capable of growing the exact same yield so many years in a row,” the male aide remarks. His head tilts in wonder as he traces a finger across multiple pages. I’m seated opposite him so the documents appear upside down to me, but I can see that he’s referring to potato and wheat numbers.

“The locals love potatoes,” I say.

“Huh, oh, I see? Th-They’re delicious, I guess.”

“Yes, that’s why the small human gav—”

“Come here, Abby.”

“Yes!”

The couch is some distance from my lord husband’s desk. While his work isn’t exactly classified, outsiders such as the castle aides mustn’t glimpse it.

I round the sofa, and when I reach him, I’m rewarded with a rainbow candy from a glass jar on his desk. He knows it is my favorite. It shrinks as I roll it around in my mouth, and once the shell crumbles, the gooey syrup inside oozes out.

He tugs at my hand as I manipulate the candy with my tongue, so I sit beside him. I keep my mouth shut in case I drool.

The seat is there just for me. My feet dangling above the floor, it’s tall enough for me to peek over his shoulder as he writes with his fountain pen.

“Please feel free to take a break,” says Rodney as he pours tea for me and the two aides.

“Oh, we’re fine—” the male aide starts to protest.

“Here, some tea.”

“…Thank you.”

That’s good. Rodney’s tea is delicious, so he shouldn’t refuse. The female aide sits with her shoulders hunched, stealing glances at my lord husband. Does she want candy too? But these are for me…

My lord husband and Rodney continue working. As each pile of paper on my lord husband’s desk dwindles, Rodney adds a new stack. I wish I could help as well. I wonder what type of books I’d need to read to learn about military matters. The bookshelves along the far wall are packed with hardcovers but not many of the type I like, the ones with shiny spines.

“How’s progress?” asks Rodney as he taps on an additional sheaf of documents. “Everything looks much more organized than when you started, so your team must be working hard.”

The male aide sips his tea. “Oh, yes. I’m afraid we got a scolding from His Highness after our last meeting… That’s why more staff were assigned to handle the sorting. They’re working on it at the palace as we speak.”

“W-We should be able to finish i-in another two weeks,” agrees the female aide.

Rodney nods, seemingly pleased. He’s so talented. Not as talented as my lord husband but pretty amazing nonetheless. I nod as well, because I’m amazing too. Oh, my candy! Delicious! The syrup is a new flavor. Orange!

Rodney placed my teacup on a side cabinet to cool, and at last I take a sip. The refreshing taste of orange blends with the brew. I usually wait to finish my candy before drinking tea, but I discovered the previous day that combining the two creates a more delicious flavor.

“W-We’re doing our best to f-finish the task before you leave for your assignment, V-Viscount— Eek!” The female aide squeals as my lord husband clucks his tongue in annoyance.

Assignment?

He ranks high in the military and sometimes has to travel for a few days for work. Perhaps that’s what the aide meant.

Tabitha says that a wife’s job is to take care of the house when its master is away, so I help Ethan lock up on those nights.

My lord husband turns away from me, putting a hand to his temple. Maybe he thinks I’m not up to the task?

“You see, Abby—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the house.”

“Y-Yes, of course. It’s the same as last year…I’ll be away for a whole month.”

“A month?”

I remember. The year before, shortly after I came to live at the Noel household, both he and Rodney were gone for a long time. Apparently, the kingdom and its allies conduct joint exercises every year near its border with a tropical land. All sorts of events occur, so the country’s participation is important. I raise my cup for another sip of tea but find it already empty.

“Abby?” He studies me, frowning.

“I’ll take care of the house because I’m your wife.”

“Yes, you’re my reliable wife. We’ll speak more of this at home. Come.” He pulls me onto his lap and lets me sniff his hand. He smells good, as always.

“P-P-Please forgive me, I didn’t intend to…” The cup in the aide’s hand rattles loudly against its saucer as her gaze darts between her male counterpart and Rodney.

“It’s fine. I was planning to tell her soon anyway.” My lord husband strokes the hair at my nape, which feels really good.

“H-H-How about the lady?”

“Hmm? You seem timid, yet your questions are surprisingly invasive,” observes my lord husband.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I-It’s just that your demeanor seems to have ch-changed, Viscount N-Noel…”

I sense my lord husband raise his head in confusion. His hand has halted, so I nudge it with my head until he starts to stroke my hair again. Yes, like that. Feels good.

“Didn’t we just meet last week?”

“Oh! I-I mean, yes, w-we met officially l-last week, b-b-but—”

“Please relax,” interjects Rodney. “Master, she was our junior in magic school. The daughter of Baron Rickman, yes?”

“Y-Y-Yes. D-D-Do you r-r-remember m-m-me—”

“Of course. A servant should be aware of all the nobles enrolled at the same time as his master.”

“Rodney’s amazing,” I add.

“H-H-Huh…?”

“The staff of high-ranking nobles are of a different caliber from your average servant, Rickman,” the male aide chides. The female aide gasps. “Besides, the high competency of the Drewett household is hardly breaking news.”

“I’m honored,” Rodney replies evenly. I understand: Drewett is a castle, and as castle people, Tabitha and Ethan are amazing too. I decide to remember his response and use it the next time I receive praise.

The male aide raises an eyebrow as he considers his colleague, then shakes his head. “Please forgive Rickman’s behavior; she is usually more clearheaded and intelligent than this. She’ll be better once she’s calmed down.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not bothered as long as the work gets done… What is it?” says my lord husband, turning to her again as her shoulders hunch further. I take the chance to sneak a hand toward the drawer where he stores the candy, and he catches me instantly. I’ve failed.

“N-N-No, i-i-it’s nothing! Just…! Th-There’ve been rumors that y-y-you’ve been cured of your w-w-woman-hating nature!”

“Woman-hating?” What does that mean?

My lord husband arches a brow and swivels to the male aide. “Is this disrespect also a result of her nervousness?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s just her personality. My sincere apologies. And Rickman? Shut up.”

“Y-Y-Yes.”

Rodney collects everyone’s cups, and soon we all return to work. We’ll continue all morning, and then I’ll have lunch with my lord husband. The head cook has already prepared boxed meals for us.

The male aide references a list of questions, which he reads aloud, and the female aide jots down my answers. She writes fast, but not as fast as me.

“About bronze grasshoppers…”

“They’re insect monsters that build their nests underground. Don’t you know? They’re very common in the area around this village,” I say, pointing to it on the map before us.

The male aide looks confused. “Yes, I’ve heard of them, but to keep them as pets…?”

“Monsters can’t be kept as pets… Don’t you know?”

What is he saying? Monsters can occasionally grow attached to humans, but insect monsters aren’t that intelligent… Wait, perhaps I shouldn’t say that! I turn to my lord husband just as he starts to speak.

“Did His Highness inform you that the locals of Longhurst are knowledgeable about monsters?”

“Oh… I see. I guess coexisting is a better description of what’s occurring. That means the villagers don’t try to kill the bronze grasshoppers they find in their fields, right?”

“The grasshoppers were there before the villagers. Their burrowing loosens the soil, which is helpful for farming.”

I think that’s safe information to share. Bronze grasshoppers bore through the ground with their hardened heads. Sometimes, they appear topside then dive down again, which helps till the land. And they don’t eat humans and are hard to catch, so they’re usually left alone.

At Longhurst, we sometimes received requests calling for their extermination, and I always crumpled those letters and buried them in the garden. The male aide seems satisfied with my response, so I don’t tell him that.

“M-My lady?”

I look at the female aide and she quickly lowers her gaze to her notes. After a moment, she hazards, “Y-Y-You get along w-w-well with Viscount Noel?”

“Yes! My lord always tells me that he loves me!”

A loud rustle sounds from behind us as someone drops a bundle of documents.

◆◆◆

WE always strive to maintain the image of a loving couple in the public eye, and I’ve even gone so far as to let Abigail sit in my lap as she is currently, but her blunt statement shocks me.

Rodney’s hands tremble as he stoops to gather the papers scattered over the floor.

“Oh! Me! I’ll help!”

I raise a hand before Abigail can dash to his side. “H-He’s fine. Go back to your work, Abby.” I kneel to assist him instead, willing the heat in my ears to dissipate.

Rodney crouches next to me in the shadow of my desk. Damn it! Shut up already.

“I-I-I heard His Highness has i-i-invited you to work in the palace, my lady. Y-Y-You’re so talented—are you not interested? Oh, i-is this the right record f-f-for this district?”

“I like my lord’s reward more. No, this one belongs here, and that one goes there.”

“I-I see. So this one’s f-f-for this. R-Reward? Y-You seem very close.”

“He always brings back delicious souvenirs, so I look forward to welcoming him home.”

“Delicious? B-B-But the palace serves delicious food too. Here, th-th-this village, I couldn’t find it on any m-map.”

“It’s here. My lord’s souvenirs are special.”

The conversation lurches between the two in that strange way, and I don’t dare even glance at them. I’m starting to sweat, for goodness’ sake. Rodney has resumed his seat without a word.

“When he was in m-m-magic school, V-Viscount Noel was r-really cute with a cool attitude, so he was v-very popular.”

“Wait, wait, wait! What did you—” I leap to my feet in protest, only to knock my hip painfully into the chair. Rodney! What…? Don’t look at me like that!

“My lord was cute?” Abigail leans over the back of the sofa, head in one hand as she contemplates me with a serious expression.

Damn.To be called cute?I’ll never admit something like that.

“…Cute,” she mutters.

Rodney makes a choking sound.

Fine, I concede I hit puberty late and took a while to start gaining height. Not that I was very small, but since the other boys were already big and tall, I looked skinny in comparison.

“I think Master only began to bulk up around seventeen years of age. Before that, he did have sort of an ambiguous vibe,” Rodney supplies unhelpfully.

“Seventeen…” she repeats.

“Th-Th-That’s right. M-My classmates said the same thing. Yes. Viscount Noel w-was always unpredictable, so I-I was wondering if he’s s-still the same.”

“Didn’t you think so too, Miss Rickman?” teases Rodney.

“M-M-Me?! I-I-I wouldn’t d-dare!”

“You sure about that?”

“How surprising… My lord is always smiling, and he’s so kind,” Abigail muses.

“I-I-I see. Th-That’s really unexpec— Ouch!”

The male aide, I think his name is McGregor, elbows Rickman hard in her side. About time. My subordinates would never allow one another to get so out of hand.

🎂🎂🎂

THE aides finally leave right before lunch.

“It’s smoked salmon from Mother-in-Law!”

While an excited Abigail gushes over her bagel sandwich as Rodney slices it in half, I break the seal on the letter McGregor passed to me on his way out. The wax bears no signet, so I presume it’s from Prince Dominic. “Yes. Cream cheese and salmon do go well together.” How cute she is.

Although he promised not to probe into the particulars of her Gift, he did witness all the peculiar events that transpired in Longhurst, and would likely want to understand them to a degree. Which is fine as long as he keeps his findings a secret.

“My lord, it’s chewy but crunchy but chewy again.”

“Is it tasty?”

“Yes! You should have one too, my lord!”

The documents he unearthed in the crown’s clandestine archive before our trip merely warn not to meddle with Longhurst. His letter seems to concern his research since. And considering that it contains classified information from a repository of forbidden texts, the prince did well to sneak it to me via his aide.

I scan the contents. It is an account of how, about two hundred years past, the royal family annexed a small, forested country bordering Longhurst.

Besieged by disasters such as droughts, heavy rains, and landslides, the country was soon left ungoverned since no noble wanted to settle there. Presently, it’s simply a neutral parcel of land with no appeal. Does the royal family seek to restore it to glory?

Actually, the rain that accompanied our departure from Longhurst has yet to cease, and messenger birds bring reports that some fields have been inundated with water. The territory is essentially a forest surrounded by mountains, the land decreasing in altitude the further in one travels. That was why the prince couldn’t assign more staff to help us. Everyone is busy dealing with what’s happening there.

Despite my wish for all the fertile soil and locals to be washed away by the flooding, the region is under the management of the royal family. Longhurst’s revitalization is probably possible, though it will definitely take a long time. I still hope that all those plotting to harm Abigail suffer such that they have neither the time nor energy to pursue her anymore.

As lunch draws to a close, I’m informed that our guards have arrived as scheduled, and we head to the entrance to meet them. Unfortunate, since I wanted to let Abigail nap in the bedroom adjoining my office before our next appointment.

As we walk the corridor, her red hair catches the sunlight streaming through the windows, its glossy shine drawing the eyes of everyone who passes us.

If only I could keep her from public view. If only I could go home with her now.

She pulls at her sleeves and extends her arms. She looks up at me, her lips tight with determination and her golden eyes bright. “I need to buy clothes, my lord.”

“O-Oh? How rare. Shall I have the seamstress visit?”

“Yes. I’m seventeen too and will get bigger soon.”

“Hmm?”

“Humans can grow bigger…”

“Oh, I see, yes, but there’s no rush. We’ll order new clothes once you actually do.”

How cute! I doubt she’ll grow any taller, but I can’t tell her that!

Chapter Four: My Eyes Are Amazing, So I’m Great at Finding Things

Chapter Four: My Eyes Are Amazing, So I’m Great at Finding Things

THE large cast-iron double doors stand open, just as they had when I arrived that morning. Soldiers in uniforms less decorated than my lord husband’s salute him from their post on either side as we walk through. The carriage is already waiting, the guards on their horses and the footman ready with the stepstool.

My lord husband offers his hand and helps me onto the stool. I can mount it myself, but Tabitha told me that I must wait for a gentleman to assist me. I twist to look at my lord husband. I’m one step above him, and he still stands much taller. I should be as big as him by now.I’m already seventeen.

He bends a little to place a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be home at the usual time.” The sparkle in his blue eyes is soft like spring water in sunlight. I’m often told I’m cute when my eyes shine, so that must mean he is cute then as well. But he’s always cute.

He frowns when I share my thoughts. “Abby. I’m a grown man. Men aren’t cute.”

“They aren’t?”

“…Don’t worry about it. Anyway, isn’t there something you want to do?”

“Oh, yes!” I stretch to give him a kiss as he stoops further.

I usually kiss him before he heads to work, but should I when I’m the one leaving? My urge to bounce is the same, so I suppose it’s okay.

“Is that you, Gerald?! Long time no see!” calls a cheerful girlish voice just as he places another kiss on my forehead.

Gerald?How casual. Yet the voice doesn’t sound like Mother-in-Law’s.

The hand smoothing my bangs freezes. I turn at the sound of footsteps dashing toward us, and my lord husband moves to stand in front of me, blocking my view with his large body.

“Perfect! I was just about to look for you in your office.”

“…What are you doing in the capital, Haydn?”

My lord husband’s voice is so deep! I can feel his anger. During our trip to Longhurst, I was instructed to duck behind him whenever strangers appear. Maybe this is one of those times!

“Oh my! Still as cold as ever, Gerald. I’ve been gone for four years and this is the welcome I get?” chirps the lively voice, and I glimpse a slender hand reaching for my lord husband’s arm before he slaps it away. “Meanie!”

What a strange woman.

Slowly, with exceptional calm, Rodney has been inching his way toward us. “Please get on, my lady,” he whispers without moving his lips,

Huh? Aren’t I supposed to hide behind my lord husband?

“I’ve told you not to address me by name.”

“Why not?! We’re the same age.”

“And I’m a major. Age has no bearing on the fact that I outrank you. Know your place.” He reaches behind himself and hooks my waist, pulling me close so that my face is squished against his back. Rodney lightly taps my lord husband’s arm and indicates once more for me to board the carriage. What should I do?

“Wait. What are you hiding behind you?”

I sense the woman trying to peer at me, so I move. I promised Tabitha I would hide. My lord husband shifts as well, a physical barrier between the stranger and me.

“Don’t tell me those rumors about you marrying are true after all?”

I’ve been spotted! But I hid so well!

My lord husband clucks his tongue in annoyance and sighs. He swivels to lift me up the rest of the steps so I stand just outside the carriage door. I’m finally taller than him and can look down at the stranger.

She’s much smaller than my lord husband, yet her chest is so big! The front of her military uniform is unfastened, and the buttons of her shirt underneath seem seconds from bursting! Maybe she’s outgrown her clothes, and nobody thought to buy her new ones.

Her hair, secured in a high ponytail, is a mixture of blonde and a brown so light it looks peachy pink, the ends nicely curled. Her flashing eyes are a dark red that shifts to bright scarlet, hinting at a certain magical prowess. But she’s not very powerful, not half as strong as Father-in-Law.

“This is my wife, Abigail. Abby, this is Wendy Haydn, third daughter of Earl Haydn and a second lieutenant in the military, which means she has no business with you.”

“Meanie! I’d love to be friends, yes?” she says, turning to me.

Wendy Haydn.

Her lips part wide as she smiles with all her teeth, the expression totally different from the serene smiles I’ve been trained to do.

I’m sure Tabitha will teach me how to smile like that if I ask her, but since I can’t just then, I should greet the lady the way I’ve learned. I squeeze my lord husband’s long and rough fingers, and he stops trying to push me into the carriage.

“Abby?”

I place a hand gently on my chest and adopt a proper smile. “I am Viscount Noel’s wife, Abigail Noel. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Haydn.”

I’m sure I did a good job introducing myself, as Tabitha once praised me, but Wendy’s eyes widen in surprise and she bursts into laughter. “Oh my! No need to be all formal. You’re really so cute.”

I’ve presented myself as a noblewoman should, yet she doesn’t return the greeting. Perhaps she’s bad at introductions.

“As you can see, the woman is without an ounce of etiquette,” my lord husband says. “She’s not worth your attention. Go on, time to head home.”

“Maybe she can’t help it. Not everyone has a kind teacher like Tabitha,” I say.

“…I-I guess so. You’re very forgiving,” my lord husband mumbles as he looks at the ground, his body trembling. Rodney is in a similar state, but my focus is elsewhere.

“Do you like potatoes, Wendy?” I ask. “Shall we have some together next time?”

“Huh?”

Wendy is the small human who shared his potatoes with the Monster King. I can tell!

◆◆◆

RODNEY and I were thirteen when we enrolled in magic school. I was shorter than him back then and struggling to gain muscle mass, so I appeared skinnier too.

“Father says you have broad shoulders and large hands and feet, so you’ll grow big someday, Ge— I mean, Master.”

“You don’t have to call me that if it’s awkward, especially when we’re alone.”

“Absolutely not. I have to get used to it if I want to serve in your household.”

“You’ll be part of my household no matter what. Nobody’s better than you, Rodney.”

“…Please stop saying things like that…”

A servant commonly accompanies the son of high-ranking nobles at all times, even while schooling, but I wasn’t enrolled in regular courses. The program was exclusive, and candidates had to pass special entrance exams before admittance. Not many servants could join their masters or mistresses in such elite study, and despite having to undergo additional special training as part of his heritage as a Kofi, Rodney still managed to perform better academically than some of the noble boys who had far more time and money.

“Yes. As the son of Marquis Drewett, you have every right to turn down an invitation to tea if you wish, Master! I’ll write your reply now,” he once assured me.

“Okay.”

“Just to confirm, Master. Will you attend Lady Haydn’s tea party?”

“No way.”

“As I thought.”

Though I told him that he didn’t have to fulfill his menial duties while at school, Rodney insisted on the role as he sorted through the piles of invitations. Only a small handful were from families that ranked higher than mine, and for a majority of even those, I always found a reason not to go. Really, simply too many tea parties transpired every day. Was anybody actually studying?

Betrothal was reserved for the eldest sons of higher nobles, so everyone else, me included, was free to socialize and mingle until an engagement typically at the age of sixteen or seventeen. The boys and girls at magic school therefore strove to secure advantageous matches on their own.

I was invited to so many functions because I was a “catch,” according to Rodney. My father held several titles, so although I was a second son, I was likely to inherit at least one. And while I wasn’t sure whether I was truly a “catch,” what puzzled me more was how girls believed they could secure my affection without investing any effort. They neither studied hard nor honed their social skills in between terms.

In spite of her enrollment in the same exclusive course, Haydn’s academics weren’t exactly great. That didn’t stop her from acting as if she were someone special though, and for some reason, nobody called her out on it. Perhaps that was due to her talent for healing magic, which was rare among the students, but I didn’t think she was special. I wasn’t interested in her at all.

“It’s because she’s friendly, cheerful, and treats people with fairness,” Rodney explained.

“She’s just rude and overly friendly. I don’t get why she thinks we’re friends. She follows me everywhere and touches me all the time. Gives me goosebumps.”

“Huh?”

Just then, something clunked against the windowpane. Rodney and I pushed it open, looking down.

“Hey! Let’s go have lunch!”

Speak of the devil. Haydn stood in the courtyard of our dormitory, fiddling with a pebble as she flashed a too-bright smile.

I slammed the window shut. “See?! Rude and overly friendly! Why does she think we’re friends?! She follows me everywhere and touches me all the time! I don’t get it! It gives me goosebumps.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

She was creepy, yes, but ultimately harmless. Besides, she was a girl, so I couldn’t treat her too terribly. In the end, I chose to simply ignore her.

But she still turned up at the tea parties I was forced to attend, inserting herself like a mother hen between girls fighting over me.

“Oh, Gerald. You should just be honest and tell them you’re not interested!”

What was that about?

Or when she’d brag to her friends, “Well, I don’t think Gerald cares about girls. But I’m different.”

That honestly gave me a headache. What did she mean?

I thought I was rid of her when I graduated from magic school a year early, but she followed me to the military academy, then into the military. Assigned to a rear-line unit that specializes in recovery and support, she nevertheless always found a way to appear before me. After I achieved some success, I utilized the general’s sympathy to finally get her relocated to a distant territory.

🎂🎂🎂

“I heard she was doing fine out there and has matured over the past four years. She is an earl’s daughter, after all…” reports Rodney on our way back from work.

After sending Abigail home, I shook off Haydn and spent the afternoon in meetings. Rodney seems to have used that time to research her.

“I don’t know about maturity…”

“She’s always been that way when it comes to you, Master.”

“Welcome home, my lord!”

I catch Abigail as she dives toward me. Nuzzling my cheek against the top of her head, I let the tension seep from my shoulders at last. Ah, she’s just so cute…

“My lord, my lord! Can I bring some potatoes when I go to work next time?!”

“Oh, sure, of course. Wait, potatoes? Wait a minute… Let’s stay like this a little longer.”

“Yes!”

Potatoes? I’ll have to get her to explain once more.

🎂🎂🎂

“THIS cake is made of carrots, my lord! But it tastes sweeter than carrots! And the topping here is cream cheese. The head cook made cheese cream using the castle milk, then used that to make cream cheese!”

“I see. Though I think you confused the two.”

“Huh?”

“Cheese cream is made from cream cheese.”

“Oh, you’re right!”

I’ve missed my chance to ask about potatoes for the moment, so I simply watch Abigail as she nibbles on her carrot cake. She’s breathing heavily, which means she’s been busy in the kitchen since she woke from her nap. She must have been quite interested in the “castle milk.”

In reality, the cow came from the same farm where we’ve always purchased milk. Abigail is just so cute that nobody has the heart to tell her the truth.

Seriously, why is she so obsessed with castles anyway…?

◆◆◆

THE small human who shared his potatoes with the Monster King had more magical prowess than the others in his village, though that still wasn’t much. He couldn’t actually use magic and wasn’t strong at all. He could do little to help the other villagers, so he received but a few potatoes for his labor. Even so, he always shared some with the Monster King.

Their first encounter, he lobbed a potato at the Monster King and fled. But slowly, he started to watch the Monster King from afar, gradually inching closer until they started to eat side by side.

“So the Monster King shared some of the mulberries and persimmons it found deeper in the forest, and also half of a snake that tried to attack it. Then the small human roasted the snake! He was great with fire despite being so small!”

“That’s right, the Monster King wasn’t too good with fires, was it?”

“Yes. It always made the fires too big!”

I’ve just finished a bath, and my lord husband is combing through my hair as he dries it with magic. Tabitha used to blot my hair with towels, but he’s recently learned how to generate warm wind at the right pressure.

I wonder when exactly. Rodney tells me that my lord husband’s always been skilled at minor spells, including chilling glasses of water for me.

I’m learning human magic and can perform the trick too, yet I shatter two out of every three glasses, so I leave the task to my lord husband. Besides, the water always tastes better when he does it.

I take a satisfyingly cool sip as he asks, “About that small human… Were you friends with him?”

“I think so. He gave me potatoes, so he must have been kind.”

“Hmm. And that small human gave potatoes to the Monster King, right? So it happened a long time ago. Can you guess how long?”

“How long…? Things were fuzzy after the Monster King died so I couldn’t keep count, but I think it was between one to three hundred springs ago.”

“That’s a large margin.”

“It was all fuzzy.” The period between one spring and the next sometimes felt very short.

My lord husband puts down the comb, then pulls me onto his lap and begins to curl strands around his fingers. Sighing, he rests his chin on my head. “How do you know that Haydn is the human who gave you potatoes so long ago?”

“You don’t know, my lord?”

“No, I really don’t. Is it because they look alike?”

He seems quite confused. I guess that can’t be helped since he never met the small human. “Look alike…? No, the human was a boy. But they are the same soul… I can see it, because my eyes are good like the Monster King’s.”

“I see… Well, let’s say Haydn really is that human. I’m not certain whether she remembers anything from back then.”

“Do humans not remember their past lives?”

“There may be some who do, but it’s very rare…” He frowns, leaning forward to study my face. “Would you still like to share potatoes with her if she doesn’t remember the Monster King?”

Since I’m Abigail and appear nothing like the Monster King, I thought that giving Wendy potatoes would help her recognize me. But if she truly doesn’t remember, then perhaps they won’t be of much assistance. And she said that she doesn’t dislike potatoes but doesn’t love them either.

“Maybe it’s okay not to share potatoes,” I murmur.

The small human couldn’t visit in winter when snow blanketed the forest. He shared his potatoes with the Monster King in autumn, then waved goodbye when the first snows fell, saying, “See you in spring.” When spring arrived, he always somehow appeared smaller, and they ate some leaves that the Monster King harvested.

In summer, they meandered through the forest, drinking from rivers and collecting shells while the Monster King caught shrimp.

Of course, they didn’t spend every day together. The human had to work in the village, after all. He’d explained that humans have more duties as they grow bigger—and earn more food as well.

“Even when he didn’t enter the forest, the Monster King could see him with its amazing eyes.”

“I see.”

“He must have been someone important. Every autumn, he brought the villagers into the forest with a cart full of potatoes as a gift.”

“…Wow.”

“I have so many memories of the Monster King sharing potatoes with the human, but when I think about it, they only did that when the human was small. They seldom ate together when he was bigger. Does that mean, like Wendy, he didn’t actually really like potatoes…?”

They’d shared so many, yet could it be?

“W-Well… I wouldn’t know… Anyway, Abby.”

“Yes?” I catch his hand before he can twirl my hair again, lifting it to my nose. He smells so nice.

“To be honest, I really dislike Haydn.”

“Yes, you were in a bad mood today, my lord. Oh, does that mean you won’t want to dine with her?”

“You get it!”

I do! Mother-in-Law taught me when we were preparing for our wedding banquet: people who dislike each other shouldn’t be seated at the same table!

My lord husband strokes my hair proudly, so I must be right.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to have lunch with Wendy in the garden,” I assure him.

“Wait, wait, wait, no. Let’s eat in the office. I’ll eat too.”

“But Mother-in-Law said—”

“It’s good manners to dine with people even if we dislike them!”

“Oh, Mother-in-Law did say that as well.”

“Right? Yes… I suppose that means you still want to share potatoes with her?”

“I wanted to roast some in the garden, but we don’t have to.”

“Y-Yes. Maybe we can roast them at the office…”

“It’s okay. I’ll ask the head cook to pack us some shepherd’s pie.”

I do love potatoes, and his shepherd’s pie uses a lot of them heaped on minced meat; it’s really delicious!

🎂🎂🎂

I recall Longhurst’s terrain, especially the forests, and our map isn’t as detailed as my memory. Although I’ve been working on adding each river tributary and indicating the gradient of the land, what’s on paper doesn’t yet match what’s in my head, so I focus, tracing the territory with a finger.

That day, one of the aides points out places of interest while the other records my answers to their questions.

“Wh-Wh-What…? With Lady Haydn…?” asks the female aide, her finger still pressed to the map on the coffee table. Her eyes dart between me and my lord husband seated at his desk. “I-I-Is that all right with you, m-m-my lady?”

“Yes. Rodney will heat up the shepherd’s pie for us.”

She seemed shocked when I told her we’d be eating lunch with Wendy after work, her finger quivering and slipping to wrong regions on the map. She doesn’t have to worry. A small kitchen neighbors the office, and Rodney says that that will suffice.

“I’m guessing you know what’s going on, then, Miss Rickman?” he asks.

“Y-Y-Yes. O-Our families h-h-have a friendly history as business partners.”

“I see. I will be attending as well, so it will be fine…” My lord husband puts down his pen and places a hand on his chest. “But I am grateful for your concern for my wife.”

I don’t think they’re talking about the pie.

The female aide startles and begins to flap her hands in panic, the motion causing the map to slide sideways. “N-No need! I mean! It’s just that L-Lady H-H-Haydn’s n-not very good at s-socializing! N-N-Not that I’m much better myself!”

“Hmm… That’s fair.”

The other aide’s shoulders tremble as he rights the map. Our eyes meet and he nods, and I place my finger on the right spot.

The location, a village close to Longhurst’s capital, lies near a river flowing down a forested mountain. In the Monster King’s time, the mountain didn’t exist, so the waterway was wider. Since then, the river has narrowed, and the constant rains caused flooding, destroying the village. I’m pointing to where the community once stood.

I can see it clearly when I concentrate, though I am better at visualizing natural areas than I am human settlements. I think it’s been entirely washed away.

The aide draws a circle around my finger, marking the fields surrounding the former village. It might have been similar in size to the city of Longhurst in the past, but I’m not completely sure.

“I-It’s just that I c-can’t help but say what’s on my mind. Th-Th-That’s why I’m hopeless at s-socializing. I-I-I’m lucky to have a job I e-enjoy. My lady?” I glance up to see the female aide looking directly at me. “Y-Y-You’re so talented and a-amazing, so i-it’s a shame that you don’t work. I-It’s n-not my place, but that’s what I think. I-I’m sorry for asking so many rude questions the other day.”

I don’t understand. “But I am working, as the viscountess.”

“Oh, yes. Y-Y-Yes, you’re right. Yes, of course. I’m really s-s-sorry.”

“Don’t worry.”

“…Thank you.” She hugs her shoulders, shrinking into herself.

I stand, walk over to my lord husband, and ask for the rainbow candy. He tries to feed one to me, and I shake my head and hold out my hand for the jar. Once I have it, I accept the piece from him and offer another to the aide.

My lord husband sits slack-jawed, so I return to pop one into his open mouth too. Mine is filled with strawberry syrup. Delicious.

“M-M-My lady!” The aide abruptly stands and grabs my hands, surprising me. “Lady Haydn isn’t the easiest to talk to because she likes to state her points no matter what you try to say but I think you’ll surely be able to handle her my lady because Viscount Noel loves you so much so please know that you don’t have to take anything she says to heart you will emerge victorious my lady you will be absolutely fine!”

Wow, she spoke so much so quickly! Amazing! She didn’t even stop to breathe!

Behind us, I hear my lord husband snort and Rodney break into a coughing fit.

Her hands are dry as she grips mine and shakes them up and down, and warm, just like Tabitha’s.

◆◆◆

BEFORE McGregor left with Rickman for the day, he passed me a letter from Prince Dominic.

“The rains in Longhurst show no sign of stopping.” The prince included a list of villages under threat of inundation, one of which hadn’t been marked on any map. Nobody at the palace had even known the place existed until the villagers came to the administrative manor to beg for help. Abigail had confirmed its location that morning, pointing to a blank area on the map.

Perhaps the oversight was an embarrassing mistake; sometimes settlements are missed when a territory expands its borders. But the village is situated close to the city of Longhurst. That it’s thus far remained undiscovered and unrecorded seems suspicious.

Rickman said earlier that she loves her job, which definitely shows in her accuracy and speed. True to her reputation, her analysis of quantitative data is impeccable, and appended to the prince’s letter is her report on the village with notes on its size and relations to Longhurst’s main city.

Such competency seems to be offset by her lack of interpersonal skills, and perhaps that’s why she gets along unexpectedly well with Abigail. Both of them are blunt and interpret the other’s words literally without searching for hidden meaning. No wonder they’re terrible at socializing.

Abigail is pacing in agitation around the coffee table. “She says she likes strawberries, so I’ll show her around our garden when they’re in season.”

“What…? When did she tell you that?”

“Just now! I promised! I’ll write her an invitation! I’ve learned how!”

“You mean during that crazy exchange you had at the end…? Rodney?”

“I didn’t catch it either, Master…” he laments as he exits the kitchen, accompanied by the aroma of warm pie. Why is he frustrated?

Since we’re having an informal lunch in the office, there was no need to extend a written invitation to Haydn. I merely had to inform her superior that I’m expecting her. The man had glanced at me with pity, which I didn’t mind so long as he understood that I wasn’t looking forward to her visit. Meanwhile, Abigail lays out her crayons in excitement, probably to write an invitation to Rickman… No, that won’t do. Not that Rickman would mind, but Tabitha would never allow Abigail to send someone a letter in crayon.

Rodney starts to load dishes onto a trolley: honey-roasted carrots, baked beans, soda bread baked with raisins and walnuts.

Placing the prince’s missive in my desk drawer, I watch Abigail as she eyes the food. “Lunch is almost ready, Abby. Take a seat and wait.”

“Yes!”

A soft knock sounds at the door just as she bounces into her seat.

🎂🎂🎂

“YOU don’t eat much, Little Abby.”

Rodney has handed each of us a plate with a serving of every dish, and Abigail’s portions are obviously smaller than ours. Anyway, who is she to call her Abby? I don’t remember granting permission to use the nickname. Unfortunately, Abigail doesn’t seem to mind, so eager to speak with Haydn that I can’t bring myself to interrupt.

“Rodney gives me a little of everything so I can try it all without making my stomach hurt. Look, Wendy, this is shepherd’s pie, made with mashed potatoes. It’s potato, see?”

“W-Well, I guess noblewomen such as yourself do have small appetites since your lives are so sedentary. In contrast, we soldiers pride ourselves on our strength, so we can enjoy delicious food. Isn’t that right, Gerald?”

“It’s Major Noel to you.”

“I enjoy delicious food too, Wendy.”

“Oh, I hate formalities during mealtime. Don’t you remember how much fun we had eating in the school cafeteria?”

“School cafeteria… My lord?”

“I’ve never shared a meal with you, Haydn. Don’t worry, Abby, the food we eat at home is more delicious.”

“Because the head cook is amazing!”

We did eat in the same cafeteria, but I’ll be damned if I let her construe that as having dined together. I even went so far as to leave the table whenever she tried to join me, though that didn’t stop her from maintaining what she’d told Abigail. I was horrified when I first heard the lie secondhand. And Rodney dared to claim that she’s matured over the past four years?! She hasn’t, not one bit!

“The mashed potatoes on our chef’s shepherd’s pie are special, Wendy! They’ve got buttermilk mixed in! Buttermilk made using castle milk!”

“Why are you so insistent on the potatoes…?”

“Would you like the flower carrots instead? We can swap.”

“The head cook shaped those carrots just for you, Abby.”

“Oh. Sorry, Wendy. You’ll have to make do with the regular carrots.”

“I-It’s fine… I don’t care…”

Our chef has always prioritized flavor, and he’s recently started to focus on presentation as well to entice Abigail to eat more. The change shocked the entire household, me included. He worked as an army cook in Drewett’s private military before suffering an injury and retiring to become a chef for me. A former soldier, he’d never been fond of decorative craft.

In fact, Abigail herself isn’t the type to fuss over appearances either, though she seems to make an exception for what she calls the head cook’s “specials.” I guess it doesn’t hurt, as long as he only does it for her…

I think back to the night I told her that humans don’t typically remember their past lives. She’d been so excited, waving her hands impatiently as she tried to illustrate how Haydn and the small human have the same soul, but her movements stilled at my words.

“If humans can’t do that, then Wendy and that human must be different,” she mumbled. Her hands dropped and she lowered her head. “I can’t remember the Monster King’s thoughts myself, so I guess that makes sense.”

She’d spoken with her usual quiet, emotionless tone as if she accepted the likely reality and isn’t bothered, and yet…

Her eyes lack their usual spark of curiosity and interest as she chats with Haydn. Instead, they house a quiet glow that resembles that mirrorlike spring in Longhurst’s forest, the shine similar to when she picks out inconsistencies in the piles of reports.

She must still be searching for a trace of the small human in Haydn.

◆◆◆

WENDY says that she is my lord husband’s childhood friend since they attended magic school together, but he merely smiles calmly and says she’s not. If what she claims is true, all who attended magic school are childhood friends, which is impossible, I suspect. I don’t know enough to understand. The concept of friends is hard.

I ponder what he was like when he was younger. He must have been bigger than Lord Samuel, surely, because he’s so large compared to me.

He asked me once if I wanted to attend magic school, and I refused, saying that I wanted to learn magic from him instead. I wonder if magic school is fun.

I ask Wendy, and she raises her voice, declaring it extremely fun. “I’m sure you would enjoy it, Little Abby. It’s a shame that they don’t accept just anyone.”

Yes, I know that. Only those with a certain level of magical prowess and skill can enroll. I figured I would qualify, but maybe they won’t admit me because I used to be the Monster King? And besides, my lord husband has already graduated, so he wouldn’t be there with me even if I become a student.

“Can I bring Tabitha to school with me?”

“Who?”

“It won’t be fun unless Tabitha and my lord are there too.”

My lord husband has already finished more than half of his second helping, and Wendy’s plate is almost empty as well. Only the shepherd’s pie remains on the table. I consider requesting more and glance at Rodney. He quietly lifts the casserole lid to let me peek inside. Oh, there looks to be enough left!

“Take your time and eat slowly, Abby,” my lord husband reminds me.

“But Wendy wants more pie—”

“I don’t?!”

She said that soldiers pride themselves on strength, so I’d assumed she’d eat as much as my lord husband. I suppose I was wrong.

Rodney passes me a glass of water, and I take a sip. His timing is great as I’m feeling a little embarrassed.

Wendy clears her throat. “Anyway, both Gerald and I were in the exclusive course, so I don’t know about the regular curriculum. Do you remember, Gerald, if those students could bring their servants to class? Oh, there was that one guy in our year who—”

“It doesn’t matter. High-ranking nobles have that privilege wherever they go. And you are to refer to me as Major. Either way, I have no plans for my wife to attend magic school. Abby is fine with me as her magic teacher, right?” he says, turning to me.

“Yes!”

“You’re her teacher, Gerald…?”

“Yes. On his days off, I sit on my lord’s lap and he teaches me.”

“O-Oh, I see. I’m surprised to hear that he bothers… Wait, did you say on his lap?”

“That’s only because I never bothered with you, Haydn. We weren’t even in the same class, so stop talking as if you know me.”

“But I do! I know you used to teach our juniors and our classmates too! Besides, I couldn’t help that we weren’t together, since I specialized in recovery.”

“Recovery? Is that healing magic? I’ve never heard of it,” I ask, but nobody is listening.

“Even if we’d been in the same class, I wouldn’t have helped you.”

I’ve never seen anyone wield either type of magic. I’ve heard that there are healers and therapists who do, but they’re rare in Drewett, even more so than doctors. In addition, they’re frequently retired military and therefore don’t see patients. Those in active duty either work as soldiers, knights, or at the palace.

Monsters cannot use healing magic. When injured, they just die. So I never witnessed it in my time as the Monster King either. It must be magic only humans can wield.

“I’d like to see healing magic, Wendy,” I say.

She giggles. “Sure, I can show you, but there isn’t anyone injured here. Just so you know, it’s not something you get to see often.”

“I’ll bring you to the medical center next time, Abby. Haydn isn’t very good at it.”

“What?!”

“Yes!”

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ve heard the rumors about you slacking off during training.”

“…That doesn’t change the fact that it’s special magic,” she mutters, pouting. I pour her some water to show sympathy. Oh, I’ve spilled some.

Rodney passes her a new cup, then smoothly takes over from my lord husband, who is wiping the table.

My lord husband eats a lot and even feeds me sometimes, yet somehow we always finish our meals more or less simultaneously. That day is the same. I swallow my second flower carrot. It’s small so I can eat it in one bite. Wendy’s already done; she’s placed her fork on her empty plate.

“Are you full, Wendy? Was the food delicious?” I ask.

“…Yes. Your chef is skilled.”

“That’s because he used to work in a castle!”

“O-Oh…?”

I’ve always conceived of myself as the Monster King inside Abigail’s body, but recently, I’ve come to realize that if I can’t remember its thoughts or feelings, perhaps the Monster King isn’t really Abigail after all. I mean, we’re the same, but different too. I’d never really considered that before.

The small human from back then never grew too large, and whenever he came to visit after the long winter, he always appeared smaller than he’d been the previous year. Since potatoes were an autumn harvest, the Monster King shared nuts and other foods with the small human during spring and summer. Sometimes monster meat too.

Everything was hungry in spring, monsters and animals alike. Some of them hibernated, and even for those that didn’t, food was scarce in winter. The Monster King thought the small human was the same, so it shared its food. I can’t tell for certain, yet that must have been the case.

So the Monster King always kept some acorns, mulberries, and strawberries on hand, even when the small human and his fellow villagers delivered gifts to the Monster King or when he stopped coming to the forest.

I can’t remember. But I’m sure that’s why I wanted to share a meal with Wendy.

I finish my last baked bean and sip my herbal tea cooled to just the right temperature.

My lord husband leans toward me. “Are you satisfied, Abby?” he whispers. I like the ticklish sensation.

“Yes!”

Lunch wasn’t how I pictured it, but I’m still good!

Chapter Five: I’m Perfect as a Lucky Charm

Chapter Five: I’m Perfect as a Lucky Charm

UPON finishing her food, Haydn started to ramble endlessly about nothing in particular, so I knew I’d made the right decision to host lunch in my office. I quickly dismiss her, claiming that I must resume work.

Afterward, escorting Abigail to our guards waiting by the carriage, I note that she seems neither upset nor depressed as she skips down the hallway. Well, she seldom is, really, except for that time when she had to choose between a cow and a sheep. That dilemma had her quite frustrated and pouty…

“My lord?”

“Hmm?”

Her golden eyes stare up at me… I know the look. She’s thought of some questionable idea.

“Can we go see healing magic when I come to work next time?”

“W-Well, I’ll submit a request for a tour… Soldiers do sometimes sustain minor injuries during regular training, but there’s no telling whether one will happen that day.”

“Nobody has to get injured. I just want to see the magic.”

“You mean you just want to see it wielded?”

“Yes! I think I can do it after seeing it! Because I’m…” She pauses, then stands on tiptoe, stretching up to my ear. “Because I’m human now.”

I see. Good save, Abby.

Although Haydn likes to exaggerate, she is correct that there are few users of healing magic due to the level of aptitude required. Healers, as well as therapists, differ in their course of study and proficiency, and the ones employed at the medical center can handle only minor injuries.

Since they are still apprentices in magic and just marginally better than Haydn, their spells shouldn’t be too taxing on Abigail’s body if she does manage to pick up one or two. All will be fine as long as I’m there to watch her.

She climbs into the carriage and twists to stick her head out the open window. I gently push her back inside with a finger to the forehead, then tap on the hands gripping the sill to remind her to keep them inside.

“If I learn healing magic, I can join the military and go on assignments with you!”

“Wait, wait, what? …W-We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

“Yes!”

We wave to each other as the carriage pulls away.

🎂🎂🎂

SO that was her idea?!

Was it because Haydn had mentioned her assignments at lunch?

“I understand your concern, Master, but you look awful.”

“What am I supposed to do now…?”

“The lady obviously cannot join the military, so we’ll have to convince her to give up the notion.”

“Of course. But that’s not the issue!”

She’d looked so adorably proud of her suggestion! How disappointed she’ll be when I have to tell her no!

I’m the second son and will inherit no land. Since youth, I’ve been raised to support my brother, who will one day bear the title of marquis, and to perhaps assume one of the various minor positions my father holds.

I never found the latter particularly enticing, so out of teenage stubbornness, I joined the military and achieved the peerage of viscount on my own merits. That doesn’t mean I’m dissatisfied with my station in life. Rather, I’m determined to contribute to the marquisate and aid my brother. My military experience will be useful in helping lead Drewett’s private army, and once I retire from duty, I fully intend to support my brother in his role.

Minor disputes notwithstanding, our kingdom isn’t currently at war. In fact, my upcoming assignment is a joint exercise with one of our allies in the west. We’ve been in a ceasefire with the country of Worley located to the north of our ally and on the opposite border of Longhurst’s forest. The joint exercise will serve to enforce the ceasefire and keep Worley in check.

“It’s not time for me to quit just yet…”

“You’ve already achieved great things, Master.”

Besides, my current rank allows me to track the kingdom’s movements and circumstances, better enabling me to hide Abigail and her Gift. I retrieve Prince Dominic’s letter from the drawer and hold it to my chest. The perfect example of why I do what I do.

“Either way, you’re just fretting because you’re reluctant to leave for the assignment, isn’t that right, Master…? Come now, let’s stop escaping from reality and head home!”

“S-Sure.”

🎂🎂🎂

ABIGAIL bounds to the door to greet me, chirping about what the head cook has prepared for dinner. Nothing about her demeanor seems out of the ordinary.

She’s always been extremely unconcerned with people who don’t give her food, judging someone purely on whether they feed her or not. It’s very strange, and Tabitha has to frequently remind her not to do so.

Therefore, I can merely watch and marvel as she tries to befriend someone like Haydn, who, in addition to not offering her any food, doesn’t even seem to like her. But I guess her attempt is understandable since Haydn was the Monster King’s only human friend, though they appear to be anything but.

🎂🎂🎂

“LOOK at this, my lord!” I’m enjoying my nightly drink on the sofa, Abigail settled between my legs, when she proudly shows me a pair of baby socks. “The ones yesterday got all tangled, but this pair is perfect!”

She first mentioned a gift for our sister-in-law’s—Lady Stella’s—new baby the week before. Since then, Tabitha has been finding time each day to teach her to knit. Abigail’s suggestion of socks was so unremarkable that we had to confirm whether that was really what she wanted to make.

Apparently, she’d gotten the idea from Rickman, although neither Rodney nor I managed to catch that part of their chat, which is a point of frustration for him.

I pluck the finished socks from her small palms and see that they’re well constructed with perfectly spaced stitches. What does she mean by yesterday’s getting tangled? My little chick is usually preternaturally nimble. She’s so unpredictable. “That’s amazing. Did you finish them after returning from work?”

“Yes! Are they cute?”

“Yes, very cute…”

Just adorable, I think as she stacks the socks neatly and declares that she wants to learn how to make gloves next. I take a sip, watching her head of red hair bobbing in excitement.

Suddenly, she stills. “Lord Samuel is the smallest human I’ve seen up close, and a baby must be even smaller, right?” Her voice is serious as she lifts her hands to indicate the size. “I was shocked when Tabitha told me. I’ll have to be careful not to step on it when we meet.”

I snort, and the alcohol rushes into my nose. “…O-Of course.”

“Tabitha says it’s still early, but will we reach Drewett in time if we have to go on assignment? Will the baby’s feet still be small enough to fit into these socks?”

“It’s fine, the baby won’t be born yet. Anyway, Abby…”

“Yes?”

She’s already acting as though she’ll accompany me. “You talked about joining the military this afternoon, right?”

“Yes, just leave it to me! I’ll definitely learn healing magic! I’ve heard that healers are assigned to the rear guard, so I can keep my promise to stay behind you, my lord!”

“That’s nice, but…”

“Yes?!”

“There are certain requirements for joining the military.” I look away from her earnest golden gaze. “For example, you must be at least 165 centimeters tall.”

“I must?!”

My stomach hurts.

◆◆◆

MY lord husband always praises me for my athleticism, and lately I can even wield human magic without a nosebleed. I try to imitate his movements when he spars with the guards every morning, and I think I’ve gotten good at that too.

Of course, I tire easily because my body as Abigail is still quite weak. That’s why I can’t join the military as a soldier, he says. Maybe sometime in the future, but not currently.

I figured I’d be fine if I joined as a healer, because Wendy is weak as well. I don’t have as many arms and legs as when I was Monster King but I’m still stronger than her. If I can learn healing magic, I’ll surely be able to follow my lord husband. Or so I thought.

“I’m ten centimeters away… I won’t be able to gain that until next year, probably…” I murmur sadly, gripping the socks in my hands.

My lord husband is facing away from me, one hand to his mouth. After a moment, he turns back and gently pries my fingers open. He smooths out the socks before placing them on the table, then wraps his arms around me, engulfing me in a hug. I lean back against him. He feels so sturdy and perfect.

“You’ll protect our home as the viscountess while I’m away on assignment, okay?”

“Of course! I’ll do it perfectly! But that’s not the problem!”

He chuckles. “No, it’s not. I don’t like leaving without you either.”

“…But it’s your job, so you can’t help it.”

“Exactly. My wife is so understanding.”

A soft sensation feathers the top of my head and I know he is kissing me.

Why didn’t I think to join him on last year’s assignment? He was just as kind, always giving me the first strawberry, so maybe the reason is that he didn’t kiss me as often back then. Though he sometimes patted my head, he never held me unless I developed a stomachache and he had to carry me to bed, which wasn’t often. What changed?

He twirls a lock of my hair around a finger, releases it, twirls it again. “There’s a village in Longhurst. The one you pointed out this morning. It’s not on any map, and I received a letter from the fourth prince today saying it’s the hometown of both your birth mother and stepmother… It’s also the hometown of the former earl’s assistant.”

“I guess so. I’d heard that the earl’s family had a connection to that village.”

“I see. You don’t sound very interested to hear more.”

“No.”

“The assistant held a noble title he bought with money. Your birth mother’s family was the same, acquiring the title of baronet several generations ago. It must have been a way for them to forge closer ties with the earldom, and I think they kept their hometown a secret because of its association with the Monster King.”

“I knew the village was unmarked, but it didn’t bother me. I didn’t know it was purposefully hidden.” I assisted the earl with documents and paperwork. He and his assistant were the ones who actually interacted with locals and communicated with other territories and merchants. I spoke to no one and, since I knew everything I wanted to know, didn’t trouble with much else.

And that was before my lord husband and Tabitha taught me how fun secrets can be. I didn’t know that when I worked for the earl. Maybe he enjoyed keeping them to himself.

I rise from my seat on the carpet between my lord husband’s legs and climb into his lap. I nuzzle my cheek against him, basking in his warmth.

“The Drewett staff and I have each researched Longhurst and found no record of that village. That means they’ve been hiding it very carefully. Your stepmother, Brianna, the former countess of Longhurst, disappeared after the family’s ruin, so there’s a chance she could have returned there.”

“Yes.”

“Most of the villagers have come to the administrative manor to escape the floods, and Brianna was not among the refugees. There are rumors that she separated from the group while they were heading into the city… Abby?” He holds my face in his hands and gazes into my eyes. I do the same. “I’ll be leaving all the guards with you. I doubt this will happen, but should Brianna make her way here, please don’t grant her an audience… And while I’m away, will you stay indoors and protect our home?”

“Can I go into the garden?”

“Yes, as long as the guards are with you.”

“That’s what we’ve always done! Leave it to me!”

He laughs before heaving a sigh. “I really don’t want to go…”

“But work is important.”

“Yes… Oh, Ethan is strong too, so if there’s an emergency, make sure you hide behind him.”

“Ethan is strong?!”

“When I was a kid, he was the one who taught me the basics of swordsmanship.”

Unbelievable! I didn’t know that! Maybe he’ll instruct me in secret if I ask nicely.

“You’re thinking of asking him to teach you, aren’t you? He specializes in concealed weaponr—”

I press a swift kiss to his pouting lips.

I’ve learned kisses help before a request!

🎂🎂🎂

WHEN I ask Ethan to teach me, he nods and holds out a piece of salmon jerky! Where did he get that from?!

“I’ll teach you when you figure out where I’ve hidden it, my lady.” The jerky vanishes.

“Again! Do it again!”

“You only get one chance a day, my lady.”

And so, we begin a new routine.

I remain unsuccessful. One morning, after he pulls a handkerchief from somewhere, I place it in my pocket before heading to work.

I spend the morning at my lord husband’s office and finally pass my invitation to the female aide. Then, after lunch, we visit the medical center.

My lord husband knocks on the door, and when it opens, Wendy stands on the threshold.

“Why is Haydn here?” he calls to the back of the room, ignoring her altogether, but no response comes. Wendy is the only one there.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t Little Abby ask to learn healing magic from me the other day?”

Did I? I’m not sure. Conversation is still hard for me.

She then says that the healer on duty is on break and that she’s covering for her colleague.

My lord husband groans. “I asked for a proper healer to be present, not a random user of healing magic.”

“Meanie. Didn’t she just want to see how it’s wielded? I can do that as well as any healer.”

“That’s exactly why you never get any better! You’re slow and your magic is weak! Even the way you harness your magical energy is inefficient!”

“Why does it matter? It’s not as if she can learn the magic just by watching me do it. One has to have the right aptitude for it. Isn’t that right, Little Abby?”

She flashes me a wide grin and I nod in response. I merely want to see how it’s done, even if it’s done badly. Satisfied, she puffs out her chest, still barely restrained by her clothing, and indicates for my lord husband and me to sit on the sofa.

“Hasn’t anyone bought you new clothes yet?” I ask.

“What? I just got this set recently?”

How can it be?! Do chests grow that quickly? I raise a hand to my own, and my lord husband pushes it back into my lap. I understand. I’ll check when I get home.

Wendy starts to explain that healing spells require delicate manipulation of one’s energy as well as a good knowledge of human anatomy and structure. I already know that, and my lord husband says as much, urging her to just summon her magic.

She pouts a little. A few seconds later, magic begins to swirl slowly from the palm of her hand, about the same amount as what the small human possessed. The swirl looks a little lopsided, very unlike my lord husband’s magic, which resembles multiple perfect circles stacked atop one another.

“Everlasting spring, imbued with light guiding earth and heavens, enter this body,” she cries.

“That long?!”

My lord husband snorts, and the swirl quickly crumbles and disappears… Probably because I’ve startled her.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I was just surprised,” I hurriedly explain. “My lord’s spells always consist of single words and commands.”

“That’s because it’s battle magic. Recovery magic usually has a long incantation,” she grumbles.

“Just admit you need more training, Haydn.”

“The fact that I can wield it is still special, Gerald.”

“Wendy likes being special,” I confirm. The small human was like that too.

“You’re stronger and bigger than the other monsters, so you’re their king!”

The small human was the reason I came to be known as the Monster King. “The Monster King has great hearing, so it can hear me. I’m its special friend,” he informed the villagers placing gifts at the entrance to the forest, and others. “It’ll heed my requests.”

The Monster King bounced when it sat beside the small human, sharing potatoes and mulberries. I feel bouncy when I’m having fun with my lord husband, so I’m sure the Monster King was enjoying itself too.

When the small human joined it on walks in the forest, it pulled on his arm to guide him away from monsters’ nests. It tugged on his clothes when he built fires by the river, warning him to avoid summoning blooms. The Monster King understood but couldn’t use human speech, so it communicated by touch and waving its numerous arms and legs.

That must be why the small human thought he was special: the Monster King taught him things no one else knew. And he wasn’t wrong. He was a special friend. I understand because I have one myself.

Wendy may not be the small human, yet they share a few traits, such as their magical prowess.

“…But my lord is my special person now,” I finish.

“Why does it feel like I’ve just been rejected?! …Gerald?!”

He has twisted to the side, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. She reaches for him, and he slaps her hand away, just as he does when he trains with the guards every morning. Amazing.

“Proper healers use much shorter incantations, Abby. Shall we wait for him to come back so he can give an actual demonstration?”

“It’s fine. I’ve already seen what I need! Thank you, Wendy.”

“Oh, I-I see. That’s good?”

After witnessing it up close, I think I can cast healing magic if I want to.

But if I do, I may never be able to return to the forest. Because I will have wielded magic only humans can.

◆◆◆

A surprising sense of satisfaction filled my heart when Abigail called me her special person.

Rodney has always teased me for my pettiness, so I know I am, but I suppose I was more jealous than I admitted to myself.

Natural disasters beset the small country annexed by our royals about two hundred years previous, and I suspect that was the forest’s attempt to avenge the Monster King. That means the human who shared potatoes with the Monster King lived before then. I’m shocked to realize that I envied someone so long gone.

Although Abigail’s gaze is trained on Haydn’s casting hand, her focus appears to be on something invisible to me. Eventually, she blinks and nods in satisfaction.

I pray she won’t try to replicate the spell on the spot, and thankfully she doesn’t, either because she’s promised me she won’t, or can’t. I’m certain it’s the former, which is fine as long as she’s sated her curiosity and we can leave.

I start to dismiss Haydn, who hastily yelps, “Tea! I’ll brew us some tea!”

“Thank you!” chirps Abigail.

She appears excited. Maybe too excited. Abigail seems to understand that Haydn is no longer her past self, and the invitation was welcome nonetheless. Perhaps she’s simply glad to gain Haydn as a friend. As someone who’s often suffered Haydn’s unwanted attention, however, I can already guess what the woman is trying to do.

“What kind of tea is this, Wendy?”

“Something from home. I brought it because there’s nothing good here.”

It’s a rare and expensive tea, thick and lumpy like algae. Just what is she trying to feed my little chick?

I gently push the teacup away from Abigail as Haydn places it before her, but she grabs it a moment later after seeing Haydn take a sip. That’s right, to wait for the other party to drink first is good manners! But! She’s usually more patient because tea is h—

As expected, she starts to splutter.

I quickly pour the contents of my cup back into the teapot, rinse it out with hot water, and refill it with clean water from the pitcher before passing it to Abigail. Haydn can choke for all I care.

“My mouth feels prickly,” Abigail mumbles.

“Haydn put in too many tea leaves. Besides, this type should have been brewed at a lower temperature and left to steep for longer.”

“You’re amazing, my lord!”

“Thank you, but what I know is all theoretical. I don’t really know how to brew it myself.”

“Maybe Rodney can do it?”

“Yes. He’s out on an errand right now, but we’ll have him brew it next time.”

I’d sent him on a job, perhaps for the best. The waste of such rare tea leaves would upset him.

“Boo. You knew how to brew this, Gerald? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you looked so confident despite your ignorance.”

“Wendy couldn’t help it. Rodney isn’t around to guide her.”

I shush Abigail and dab at her lips with a handkerchief.

Haydn stares, bemused. “You’re not the Gerald I know at all.”

Who cares? Haven’t you done enough? Just go away.

“Not Gerald…?” Abigail studies me, then Haydn, then me again. Her confusion is to be expected, since she doesn’t know how I was before. “But Wendy, my lord is Gerald.”

“That’s not what I meant?!”

A cough of laughter escapes me. I can’t help it; the dual strike of Abigail’s serious response and utterly bewildered expression is just too funny. So cute.

She’s right though. My current self is the true me.

I’m aware that I’ve changed, certainly where Abigail is concerned, and of course Haydn won’t know that. Besides, we aren’t close, so she has no right to act like she knows me well.

“Why…? The Gerald I know has always been cold and indifferent toward girls.”

“That’s right. My lord is great at wielding ice magic.”

To do so is rude, yet I can’t stop laughing. It isn’t right at all. And Abigail’s trying to be understanding too…

In reality, the woman in front of me is why I gained my reputation of being callous and hateful to girls.

Since childhood, I’ve been warned that deception and betrayal are inevitable in aristocratic life. And noblewomen are far more deadly than men in such circumstances. That said, intrigue usually occurs in private and away from male eyes. For example, salmon jerky is never served at tea parties with men present.

Whenever I was forced to a tea party, girls squabbled for the chance to sit beside me and often spoke over one another, trying to seize control of the conversation. We were all children, and even then I understood how uncultured their behavior was. I vividly remember my desperate wishes to leave.

Their one-upmanship worsened when Haydn was involved, frequently devolving into physical fights. She never lifted a finger herself, yet the way she fueled the spats was somehow worse:

“Didn’t you know that Gerald doesn’t like that sort of thing? …Oh dear, and I kept reminding her to tell you.”

“Oh, Gerald’s schedule for next weekend is already full. He’s probably going to attend her tea party.”

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but she said this about you…”

When we first met, I thought she was okay, merely an overly sociable young lady unafraid to talk to me. Then more and more girls began to cling to me, even quarrel over me in my presence—and Haydn was always there. She pretended to be a mediator, chiding me or settling arguments by demanding that I attend so-and-so’s function. Once I finally realized what she was doing, I was so furious that I wanted to tie her up and throw her into the nearest river.

While the sons and daughters of lower noble houses adored Haydn because of her “fair and open nature,” those from higher-ranked families started to distance themselves from her. And after graduation, as Rodney soon discovered, she pressed for acceptance into the military academy not just because of her “aptitude” for healing magic, but also because she had no marriage prospects despite her status as the daughter of a wealthy earl.

Exhausted from laughing so much, I take Abigail’s hand, ready to leave the room when Haydn speaks again.

“Isn’t your marriage political? This…this gentle behavior isn’t like you at all, Gerald.”

“My lord is very gentle—”

“You stared at her adoringly all throughout lunch! And stroke her hair every chance you get! And you’re willing to wipe her lips?!”

“Shut up already. Let’s go home, Abby. I can’t deal with this woman any longer.”

Abigail glances between the two of us, her eyes wide as the mood in the room sours.

Haydn’s anger isn’t directed at her, but I’ve had enough. We’re past the point of politeness, and I don’t want my wife to see me lose my temper.

Haydn refuses to back down. “Aren’t I supposed to be the only girl you can speak honestly with, Gerald?!”

“I remember no such thing!”

I’ve never been able to understand her abnormal obsession with me, not that I’m interested in trying. She follows me everywhere, and I’ve never felt that she does so out of affection for me. She’s too naive to be plotting to use me to climb the social ladder, and given her attitude and behavior, she stands to lose more than she can hope to gain.

Perhaps she’s simply one of those people nobody will ever understand.

But hearing her shriek about being special reminds me of Abigail’s small human and how he prided himself on being the Monster King’s friend, and it all starts to make sense.

“Listen. I’m not to be won like some medal or trophy, and I won’t be your special someone. If you want to be recognized and respected so much, then work for it. And I’ve said this many times, but I’ll say it again: I find you a nuisance and I hate you.” It’s true, and I have, and she’s always brushed that aside.

Not today. She looks at me with wide eyes as though truly hearing me for the first time.

“Wendy Haydn, with the support of Marquis Drewett, the Noel family will be making a formal complaint to Earl Haydn. I’ll make sure that you can never leave your hometown again.”

“What? B-But the assignment—”

“It’ll either be your last, or your father the earl will ask for you to be withdrawn, whichever he decides.”

I’ve given her multiple warnings over the years, and though I usually feel bad invoking my father’s authority, I’ll use all means possible to be rid of her once and for all. I guess I really have changed.

“Wendy, people change all the time,” Abigail says abruptly in an emotionless voice, her gaze distant.

“…Huh?”

“People change; it’s inevitable.”

I wonder whether the Monster King thought that as it waited for the small human to someday return. Or when it continued to grant the wishes of the human villagers despite never receiving an invitation to their festivals.

“Just like how time caterpillars change into moss falcons.”

“What are those?!”

Time caterpillars are creatures that resemble caterpillars, and moss falcons are ferocious bird monsters. I didn’t know that one is the juvenile form of the other. How does a caterpillar become such an aggressive monster?

“You don’t know…? Oh! How about tadpoles? They change into frogs, right?”

“So?!”

“That’s why it’s inevitable that humans change. Our appearance doesn’t change like animals’, so it can be harder to tell, but we do.”

“What?! None of what you say makes sense!”

“Come, Abby, let’s go home,” I say.

“Yes!”

I didn’t expect her to try so hard to comfort Haydn. My little chick has such a big heart.

◆◆◆

A large open area stretches beside the main road outside the capital’s outermost gate. People gather there for big events like the overseas assignment, and the grassy plain is crowded with those leaving and their families. I’m there to see my lord husband off as well.

We must have used the road every time we entered or exited the capital, and since I was always inside a carriage, I find myself studying the wall for the first time.

Although Drewett Manor is taller, the outer wall of the capital has no windows and extends endlessly in either direction, overwhelming me with a sense of being crushed. High and low points alternate atop it, which I’ve learned are called battlements… Oh! I see shadows above them! Someone must be walking up there!

“Stop stepping sideways, Abby. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, my lord! Can we climb on top of the wall?!”

He has just returned from a predeparture meeting. He glances where I’m pointing, nods in understanding, and pulls me close by the waist. “It’s part of the military’s jurisdiction, so yes, you can if I’m around. I’ll send a request when I get back. The view from up there is great; I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Yes! I can see a hole there and there, and…oh, something sticking out there. It’ll be easy.”

“Wait, wait, wait. We don’t climb the wall. There are stairs inside.”

When it was first built, the square stone blocks must have been neatly stacked. Over time, however, the blocks have shifted, growing misaligned and chipped. I point out those flaws, and my lord husband groans.

“…It does need repairs, yes. I’ll add that to my report,” he promises, glaring at the wall with narrowed eyes.

“Repairs to make it good to climb?”

“N-No. We don’t want it to be scalable.” He presses a hand tightly against his stomach for a moment, then smiles and tells me about the wall’s construction. Apparently peepholes line the inside, but I can’t see them.

“You’re athletic, Abby, but you definitely can’t scale walls. And don’t try it either. You need special training to learn how to do that.” He claws the air with his right hand, demonstrating the technique.

I try to imitate him, and he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together, bringing it to his lips. He kisses my knuckles with a soft sound.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Yes! I’ve spoken to your and Rodney’s horses as well!”

“O-Oh?”

I overheard Tabitha telling Rodney to do his best to ensure he and my lord husband stay safe, so I asked the horses to do the same. I’ve never spoken to horses before, but I think they understood me. Praying for a journey’s safety is part of a wife’s duty.

Oh yes! “That’s right. I did my job, my lord!” In addition to knitting baby gloves and socks, I’ve also learned how to embroider. I know that wives embroider lucky symbols onto their husband’s handkerchiefs, and I managed to finish mine the day before!

Then a maid pressed the design neatly into the fabric with an iron. I wanted to learn how to iron as well, but was told it’s dangerous.

“Wait, this one’s for the salmon jerky,” I mumble.

“Y-Yes?”

I return the jerky handkerchief to my pocket and pull the correct one from my other pocket.

He takes it in both hands. “Th-This is… Yes, I’ve heard of it. Puff embroidery…?”

“Yes! I’ve embroidered the Monster King!”

I had only enough time to needle six arms and legs, and I think they look nice reaching out from the fabric. I even used gold thread for the six eyes.

“…I-It’s wonderful… The Monster King is strong. This charm will surely protect me well.”

“Yes! Because I’m strong!”

My lord husband remains crouched by my side until a whistle signals their departure. After kissing me goodbye, he leaves.

Interlude: I Must Try Something New

Interlude: I Must Try Something New

MY grandfather is a gardener.

I’m always hearing stories about his amazing talent and how he worked his way to head groundskeeper at Drewett Manor. I was born and raised in the capital because Dad works in the palace gardens, so I’ve never seen Grandpa in the field, but he must really be skilled if Dad says so.

Several years previous, Grandpa retired and moved to the capital too. Dad was surprised that he chose to give up his passion and even leave Drewett, but he ended up taking a job as the gardener for the marquis’s son, Viscount Noel. So he didn’t abandon it entirely.

The viscount’s estate is smaller than Drewett Manor and the palace complex, and the viscount himself doesn’t seem that interested in landscaping, so it is the perfect place for Grandpa to enjoy his retirement.

Though I aim to become a professional gardener myself, I can’t wrap my head around why he still wants to do it after so many decades.

🎂🎂🎂

“YOU, come over and help me out sometime,” he says one day.

“What? Why? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine. The master has requested that I remodel the grounds to the mistress’s liking.”

When I see Grandpa’s small plots, I’m impressed by the seasonal flowers and well-cultivated trees, each strategically planted for the best presentation. I wonder why the viscount wants them remodeled. Half of the property surrounding his mansion is already grassy and level for training exercises. I know a gardener must acquiesce to the desires of his master, but to destroy my grandfather’s efforts seems like such a waste. I am annoyed until I find out that the area to be remodeled is actually the grove of trees in the back garden.

Well, in that case, I can see why he asked for my help. That’s heavy work and he’s no longer young, and I’m big for my age, strong too.

We trim branches, establishing a small path while retaining the majority of the grove’s wildness. We dig out the rocks peppering the trail, and I haul them out of the trees along with the cuttings. Lastly, we lay planks over the dirt. We are usually out of sight when engaged with such remodeling projects, yet for some reason, my normally easygoing grandfather seems serious when he repeatedly warns me not to let the mistress see our work.

I’m already thirteen and have been helping Dad since I was ten, so I know how to be discreet, but why must we hide from Viscountess Noel? Is she a fussy woman?

I start to imagine her as quite strange although I’ve never met her in person.

🎂🎂🎂

“I’VE never seen that before.”

We’ve finished our remodeling project, and I am in the process of transplanting flowers to the front garden when a voice suddenly sounds beside me.

I jump, twisting around to see a girl with scarlet hair. “Whoa!”

“Huh?” She blinks at my startled voice, and her eyes are a sparkling golden color I’ve never seen before. They rather resemble the buttercups Dad loves to grow. She peers around me to examine the flowers I’ve been repotting, then studies the blossoms in my hands.

My fingers tremble. Since I assist Dad at the royal palace, I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful noblewomen, but I’ve never seen anyone as pretty as the girl. “Erm, you mean this?”

“Yes.”

“This is santolina.”

“Santolina. It’s so fuzzy.”

Santolina are known for their thin silver-white leaves and round yellow flowers, and I suppose they do appear fuzzy.

Fuzzy? What a cute word. They are fuzzy. And cute. I glance at the girl again as she crouches beside me. I must stop staring. I return my gaze to the blooms as a small, slender hand reaches for mine… Huh?

“Where is the old grandfather?”

“H-Huh? Y-You mean Grandpa?”

Wait, did one of my flowers just disappear…? What?

“The old grandfather. The gardener.”

“O-Oh, I think he’s around here somewhere… H-Hey, what’s your name?”

“Abigail. Oh! Tabitha! Tabitha’s calling!”

“Huh? W-Wait!”

The girl leaps to her feet and races away, her long skirt streaming like the fins of the fish in the palace pond. Wow! She’s so fast?! Wait, she said someone is calling her? But I didn’t hear anything?!

“…Abigail,” I whisper.

She’s a little shorter than me, so maybe she’s my age. Or a year older. She wasn’t dressed like a maid. Maybe an apprentice? But her clothes looked expensive. Is she one of the viscount’s relatives? I’m certain Marquis Drewett has two sons.

When Grandpa returns from the bathroom to find me staring blankly into space, he hits me on the head, scolding me for coming to the front garden.

Weren’t you the one who told me to bring the flowers here?!

“G-Grandpa? Let me know whenever you need help.”

“What? Oh, I’m good for now.”

Soon after that encounter, he finishes the woodland, and I don’t get the chance to see Abigail for a while. I still visit him after school and on weekends, but he doesn’t ask for my help.

I wonder if she’s still at the viscount’s estate. If she’s his relative, perhaps she was just visiting and has since gone home.

But she called Grandpa “the old grandfather,” which makes me suspect that she lives there.

🎂🎂🎂

“OH? You’ve been coming over very early recently,” comments Grandma when I stop by one day.

“Where’s Grandpa?”

“He’s already left for work.”

“Damn it.”

Gardeners start so early. I have the day off from school but helped Dad at his job, and although I worked doubly hard to finish quickly, I’m too late.

Grandma, leaning against the doorway, sighs in exasperation. “I’ve baked cookies; can you bring them to hi—”

“Yes! This bag, right?! I’m heading out, then!”

“Ah, wait!” Calling after me, she reminds me to keep out of sight, and I wave the bag of cookies in response.

Although a commoner, I’m allowed to pass through the gate that separates the district where Grandpa lives from the noble quarter because I live on palace grounds. Viscount Noel’s mansion lies near the edge of the noble district, and if I run, I can get there in no time.

And I’m a fast runner, if I do say so myself.

I stop to catch my breath at the estate’s side entrance, then greet the gatekeeper who waves me through. Viscount Noel is a powerful military man and never needed such security, but after marrying, he hired the guard for his wife’s safety.

I stand on tiptoe to peek over the hedge concealing the gardener’s shed and toward the front garden, and there! I glimpse a head of smooth, shiny red hair.

My hand tightens on the bag of cookies.

Grandpa and Abigail are crouching in front of a flowerbed. It’s unfair how close he is to her. What are they looking at? I want to join them, but they’re in the front garden, which I’ll be reprimanded for entering. Maybe if I call out to Grandpa, they’ll come to me instead.

Still on tiptoe, I strain my ears, listening to his relaxed voice and her high and soft one. So unfair. Why does he get the chance to talk to her?!

“Old Grandfather, Old Grandfather! I’ve never seen this before.”

I know that one! It’s sweet pea! It’s a new variety Grandpa just— Huh? What?! Why is he holding her hand?!

In the blink of an eye, he’s grasped one of Abigail’s small hands. I had no idea he could move that fast! Wait, why is he doing that—

“You can’t eat that, my lady.”

Can’t eat what? Was she trying to eat something? Huh? What’s going on? But wait. What?

“My lady?” I repeat.

Did he call her “my lady”? As in Viscountess Noel?

And Viscount Noel is so big and tall. Isn’t the size difference between them too extreme?

Just then, a tall man exits the mansion, and I freeze, my jaw probably still agape.

The viscount, his long, black hair tied loosely behind him, easily lifts Abigail and settles her on one arm. Though I’m standing some distance away, I see his eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.

Huh? He’s smiling? He appeared so severe and cross the last time I saw him that I guessed him close to Dad in age, yet he seems younger as he gazes at her.

But-But-But he still looks much older than her…

“My lord, my lord! I’ve never eaten this before.”

“It’s not edible.”

He’s right, you can’t eat that! Wait, she called him “my lord”!

“It can’t be… Gyah!” He’s staring at me! I feel a sharp spark as our eyes meet, and I tumble to the ground.

Whoa, huh? He looked so scary!

What was that?! It seemed so childish?! But he’s an adult?! Terrifying!

🎂🎂🎂

“GRANDPA wants you to help him tomorrow morning.”

“…Yeah, sure.”

“Hmm? Weren’t you so eager to for a while? You kept showing up without his asking.” Dad grins.

I haven’t visited unannounced in a long time. Months, in fact. The new year has passed, and the season is winter.

I’ve assisted Grandpa at the manse several times and haven’t seen Abigail…the mistress again. In truth, I’ve been avoiding her. For one, she’s much older than I imagined. Second, she’s a married woman. She could hardly set my heart racing. Of course not.

Before winter arrived, I helped Grandpa secure the branches of trees with rope so they didn’t snap under the weight of the oncoming snow.

Our job the following day is to remove snow from the training ground. The shoveling is usually done by the servants and guards, so our task is to pile the gathered snow in a mound in one corner of the garden. The heap grows taller as we dump shovelful after shovelful on top.

My breath crystallizes into small pieces of ice on my scarf as we work, and the snow mountain is soon finished. It slopes gently on one side and what resembles a rough staircase forms the other. Grandpa goes to the gardener’s shed, returning shortly with a wooden sled similar to the one Dad made for me when I was smaller. The front curves upward, two holes drilled into it so a rope can be looped into a handle… I’m sure there are no children living in the viscount’s mansion, yet Grandpa tells me to test the slope.

“How is it?”

“It doesn’t go too fast, so it should be saf—”

“Old Grandfather, Old Grandfather! What’s that?!”

“Wh-Wh-What?”

The lady is dashing over, fully bundled in a coat with fluffy fur along the sleeves and hem, and a fuzzy hooded cape, scarf, and mittens.

Isn’t she overdressed? She looks like she’s about to fall over. Whoa, is it just me, or are her cheeks fuller since last time? How cute. She could be my older sister.

She bounces in place as Grandpa teaches her how to use the sled. Why is she bouncing?

Doesn’t matter, she’s adorable.

Her ride down the slope is slower than mine, likely because she’s so light.

“Wow,” she whispers, eyes wide and sparkling as the sled comes to a stop. Golden like buttercups. “Amazing! It went whoosh! An amazing whoosh!”

She drags the sled to the top of the mountain before sliding down again. She repeats the run several times, her expression serious but for a slight hint of enjoyment… Those pink cheeks and strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. I’m starting to sweat myself.

“Oh! The grandson! Do you want to play too, Grandson?! We’ll take turns?”

“Me?! N-No, I-I’m fine. I mean, thank you for the offer! But please go ahead!”

“Yes! Thank you! How about you, Old Grandfather?!”

“I can’t do it.”

“Okay! I’ll go one more time then!”

Grandson! She referred to me as Grandson! So she knows I’m his family. I bury my face deeper into my damp scarf. The fabric is cool and feels nice.

The lady begins to huff as she slides down again and again. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s claimed “one more time,” but whatever, it’s cute.

“Abby,” a low voice calls from behind me.

She immediately darts down the mountain and runs past me. I turn just in time to see her leap into the viscount’s arms. My nose tingles as I suck in cold air.

“My lord, my lord! The old grandfather and his grandson did a really good job!”

“…I see. Bob did this for me when I was a kid too. How nostalgic.”

“Though I built it lower so you and Rodney could play on it safely, Master,” answers Grandpa with a grin. Somehow, he’s suddenly standing in front of me, blocking me from view.

“My lord went sledding too?!”

“When I was a kid, yes.”

“I see! Old Grandfather has always done a good job! He needs a reward!”

“O-Oh?”

The lady mumbles as she pulls off her gloves, patting the pockets of her cape and coat. As she approaches us, the gloves hanging from her wrists sway with her every step, and I notice that thread secures them to her coat sleeves…

“Here! This is for you! It’s a special gift from Mother-in-Law!”

I gasp as she opens a handkerchief and holds up a stick of something in each hand… Salmon jerky? Huh? That’s salmon jerky, right?

“What a treat.” Grandpa respectfully accepts the jerky with both hands, and I do the same. It really is salmon jerky. His shoulders are shaking, and Viscount Noel has turned away, coughing as he holds a hand to his mouth.

“I-I’ll reward you separately for your trouble, Bob,” he finally says.

“My lord, my lord! Let’s sled together!”

“Oh… All right, let’s go.”

Did the viscount just glance in my direction? No, I didn’t imagine it! Scary! Too scary! Why?!

He whispers, and a wind glittering with ice tinkles through the air. In an instant, the soft snow staircase freezes into a large crystalline structure.

“Wow! It’s sparkling! You’re so good, my lord! So amazing!”

The ice appears rough but solid, its facets catching the sunlight.

“This’ll make it easier to climb,” he says. “So, where’s my reward?”

“Here!”

Viscount Noel lifts the lady and she leans close to his forehead and… W-Whoa! Wow! Whoa…

“I suppose it’s good for a man to indulge in immaturity once in a while. Come, let’s do this, then head back inside.”

The sled descends much faster with two people on it, and her cries of “one more time” sound much happier than before.

Grandpa taps me lightly on the head, so I pick up the shovels and follow him.

“The lady seems happy,” I venture.

“She does.”

“Call me the next time you need to make something for her.”

“Of course.”

My feet feel heavy and the salmon jerky is salty and tough in my mouth. I don’t get what’s so special about it, but I guess she finds it delicious.

The lady is a married woman. Even so…

“I’ll make her the perfect snow mountain next year.”

“…All the best,” grunts Grandpa.

A gardener’s job is to landscape in a way that makes the family happy, after all!

Chapter Six: Tabitha Will Read to Me at Bedtime

Chapter Six: Tabitha Will Read to Me at Bedtime

IT’S a ten-day march from the capital to the site of the joint exercise on the allied country’s border. In addition to the three days planned for the exercise and a fourth for rest, the militaries’ leaders will spend two in conference, so our stay will span a total of six days. All in all, the whole assignment is to last just under a month.

Since we are convening as allies, those ranked captain or above enjoy quarters separate from the rest of the soldiers, which is a relief: Haydn isn’t allowed to enter. Thankfully, she hasn’t tried to speak to me, though her pointed gaze annoys me enough.

A superior cheerfully informed me over lunch that Haydn has decided to retire from the military after the assignment. He relayed the message while absently stroking his stomach, and I wondered if she’d messed up elsewhere as well.

As expected, the exercise progresses smoothly, accompanied by news that the meeting between the higher-ups concluded without a hitch. And yet…

“Wanna go home now…” I groan.

“Sure, yes, of course,” says Rodney consolingly. “No need to look so down. His Excellency is calling you.”

I straighten and walk toward a beckoning General Whittington.

Several men, laughing and chatting, surround him, and I recognize them as senior officers from the allied military. We greet one another, and the conversation soon turns to congratulations on my marriage.

“Why didn’t you mention this last year?” someone asks.

“It’s a private matter, and we’d not had our official ceremony yet,” I reply.

“The general couldn’t make it last year either, but I heard rumors throughout high society. The stubborn soldier who’d fallen for a young bride.”

“She looks young, but she’s an adult,” I state.

“So you don’t deny falling for her?”

“It is the truth.”

We did attend a few social events to keep up appearances and show that we are happily wed, so I expected some gossip. But it seems to have gotten a little out of hand—I never thought the news would make it to other countries! My body warms and I hope the heat is not apparent on my face.

“Viscountess Noel is beautiful, with striking red hair and golden eyes,” adds the general with a small smirk. “And she’s very cute when she speaks.”

Ever since their first meeting, he has routinely asked after Abigail, inquiring not about her Gift or skills but purely because he seems to have taken a liking to her. Of course, he was the one who initially proposed our engagement, so his interest in how we’re faring is natural.

For example, while the assignment includes training on our march to and from the capital, I’m also currently on a mission for Prince Dominic and have been excused from the drills on the way back. The general has always been supportive of me like that.

“What? Golden eyes? As expected of Your Excellency, you’ve noted an incredibly auspicious omen,” exclaims one of the allied lieutenant generals.

“Auspicious?”

“My hometown’s just across the border from here, and we believe golden eyes lucky. I’m talking about truly golden eyes, not light brown like Your Excellency’s, or even amber. They’re very rare, because the hue is caused by strong magical prowess. They’re also linked to the legend of the sacred beast, said to be the bringer of good harvests.”

“The legend of the sacred beast? Sounds interesting. Would you tell us more?” I prompt.

Although the Monster King’s forest lies mostly in Longhurst territory, it also acts as a barrier dividing three nations: ours, the enemy’s, and our ally’s. In fact, before the land to the east was annexed, four separate states bordered the forest.

The mountains enclosing the region are not easily traversed, and the only flat route to the forest is in our country, the road to the city of Longhurst. That’s why Longhurst was not dragged into the most recent war. The geography was enough protection.

“It’s kind of a bedtime story for children. A gold-eyed monster would descend the mountain but didn’t attack humans if left alone. Legend says that it’s actually a sacred beast in disguise, so even if it goes on a slight rampage in the fields, best not to retaliate and just wait for it to leave. Its visit portends a good harvest that year.”

◆◆◆

THE cold, pale green pasta, topped with prosciutto fashioned into a fluttery flower, smells of leafy herbs and garlic. The wrinkly dried tomatoes pickled in oil are rich, sweet, and delicious. The first taste is cool and smooth, yet something’s not right.

“My lady? Have I served you too much? Please don’t force yourself.”

“But…”

Maybe my portion is bigger than usual. I can’t tell. And although it’s delicious, I feel suffocated.

“It’s normal to lose one’s appetite with the weather getting warmer. I’ll get you a glass of the head cook’s special lemon water.”

“Special?!”

“Yes. I heard it’s made with a secret blend of honey and salt.” Tabitha lowers her voice, placing a finger against her lips. I mirror the action. She drops her hand to her stomach. “Does your stomach hurt? Do you feel unwell?”

A maid clears the table. I tell Tabitha that I’m all right. I just feel suffocated.

“You don’t look pale. That’s right… You’ll regain your appetite once Master comes home.”

Food does taste better when I dine with my lord husband, so that must be the case.

“The chef’s cooking still tastes good.”

“Yes, he’ll be glad to hear that. Make sure to tell him so when you visit the kitchen.”

“Yes!”

The lemon water isn’t too cold. It tastes sweet, sour, and a little salty, and flows smoothly down my throat. Tabitha looks at me with a smile.

“I think I feel better,” I share. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, but the head cook was the one who made it.”

“Yes, and I drank it as you said and I feel better, so you’re amazing. I can use recovery magic, but your method is better.”

She giggles. “I’m glad you feel better… Hmm? I thought what you learned was healing magic?”

Healing magic can heal only injuries, but recovery magic can fix other things, which is why I’m told it’s more difficult to wield.

“Yes, but I can use recovery magic too, as long as I follow human rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yes. When I was the Monster King, I did magic using monster rules. Since I’m human now, I’m sure I can wield it using human rules too!”

“Well, that’s the best of both worlds, isn’t it?”

“Best of both worlds?”

Is that true? Tabitha is smiling, so I suppose she must be right.

“…Is that not the case?” she asks.

“Humans have different rules from monsters, and if I learn them, I won’t be able to live in the forest anymore. So I’m wondering if wielding human magic will prevent me from going back to the forest.”

Is that for the best? Though still smiling, she seems frozen. I take another sip of lemon water. She doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong, Tabitha?”

“M-M-My lady, are you planning to go back to the forest?”

“Again? No. I just visited a while ago.”

“I see! Yes, that’s right! That’s what you meant!” She heaves a sigh, pressing her hand to her chest. I wonder what the matter is, and though I don’t understand, I stroke her back. She stills again, seeming lost in thought.

She finally looks up when I finish my lemon water. Taking my hand in hers and patting it, she says, “My lady, please think carefully before you wield healing or recovery magic. Do not use it on small issues like cuts or colds.”

“But—”

“This is your Tabitha’s request to you, my lady. It’s not often that humans are gifted such magic, so please consider the situation thoroughly before you try using it. Oh, it may be good to discuss with Master too. Please promise me this.”

I’m not sure what she wants me to discuss with my lord husband, but there are tears in her eyes, so I nod in agreement.

◆◆◆

THE country annexed by the crown lies between where the joint exercise is staged and Longhurst. Besieged by disaster after disaster, its ruler abandoned his people, fleeing for his life. Our kingdom annexed the land after that and gathered as many records concerning the region as they could. Prince Dominic discovered those documents locked in an archive of forbidden texts and is secretly studying them.

The prince thinks more must be out there but is currently shorthanded with most of his aides busy handling the calamities in Longhurst. Since I am fully aware of his research, he has therefore tasked me with a clandestine mission: to break into the former country’s sealed castle to investigate.

On the second day of the return march to the capital, General Whittington approaches the tent I share with Rodney. “I know His Highness is keen to rebuild Longhurst, but I doubt documents from over two hundred years ago are going to be helpful. That said, it’s near impossible to refuse a royal, and I’m sure you’re also doing this for the lady, aren’t you? …Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

He waves his hand, emphasizing his disinterest, then takes a whiff of the aromatic coffee Rodney has brewed. “Remember the major general—though he’s just a baron now that he’s retired—who first suggested a marital engagement to you? He’s the type who finds factions a nuisance but is still wise enough to know that such conflict is inevitable in an organization like our military… That’s why he suggested a match between you and my distant relative. It would both solidify our faction’s position as well as boost my reputation.”

“…Considering the military, I understand it was the right decision,” I answer carefully. I had no interest in getting married back then, that’s true, but I don’t understand why he’s broached the topic.

The general gives me a genial smile. “It was. I wanted to strengthen the connection between you and me and had known the baron for a long time. But I think there must be another reason why he recommended Longhurst’s second daughter for the match. He held a high rank in the military for many years, and I heard that he’s embraced a luxurious lifestyle since retiring. I was curious, so I paid him a visit the other day.”

“…I heard that the initial plan was for me to marry the stepdaughter, Nadia, and she rejected the offer, so my wife was suggested instead.”

That was what Abigail had told me. Though Nadia resembled Earl Longhurst in appearance, Abigail is his only legal descendant. Under normal circumstances, a stepdaughter who dared reject a marriage proposal would have been kicked out of the house, but Nadia managed to do just that, likely because the family viewed and treated Abigail as less than dirt.

“I don’t know how Earl Longhurst ran his household, but it seems that he called upon the baron, his old friend from magic school, to help arrange a secret match for his second daughter. He apparently paid a significant amount of money for it, too.”

“…He did?”

“That was why the baron had no qualms proposing you as the match, despite your notoriety as a man who dislikes social convention and women in general. And as mentioned, the match would prove advantageous for many of us. The baron gained some aristocratic clout alongside extra funds for his retirement. I suppose retirement has dulled his senses; he didn’t even question why I was bringing this all up during my visit.”

“But why would the earl do that…?” I asked.

Earl Longhurst has never featured prominently in Abigail’s accounts of her old life. Maybe because she doesn’t really care about the family, apathetic to their behavior but for the fact that they didn’t give her food. She doesn’t talk about her past voluntarily unless I ask, and even then, she shares more about her stepmother and stepsister than her biological father, which indicates she seldom interacted with him.

He was a useless man who neglected his daughter and forced her to manage the entire territory on her own. I’m sure her wellbeing or happiness wasn’t a priority when he arranged her marriage.

“The most crucial point was that the exchange had to be made in secret, so he probably saw it as banishment or ridding himself of a nuisance,” huffs the general. “From what I’ve seen of your wife, she can be a handful at times, but she definitely didn’t deserve such treatment from her own father.”

He seems upset—and I’ve not even told him just how much she contributed to the functioning of Longhurst.

“Well, at least she’s doted upon in your household, so I’d say it’s a good ending,” he concludes with a sly grin.

“…Hmm, y-yes, that’s right.”

“The earl paid for his decision with his life, but I’m still not pleased with the baron for proposing the match. He may not have broken any laws, but he used us both to make some money. I don’t wish for others to think that he’s safe from consequences just because he’s retired… I hope you’ll allow me to deal with him?”

I can only reply, “Yes, please go ahead.”

The general nods in satisfaction and smirks. “By the way, I heard that your wife toured our medical center. I trust everything went well?”

“Yes. It was just a tour to see the place.”

“So it wasn’t an attempt to prove to your wife that you’re not having an affair with Haydn?”

“What?! Rodney—” I swivel toward him for confirmation.

“I-It’s just a harmless little rumor that’s been circulating,” he admits.

The general laughs. “I thought it uncharacteristic of your wife… So it’s really false, then!” Abruptly, his tone turns serious with a hint of warning. “She can’t wield healing or recovery magic now, can she?”

He hasn’t forgotten that she possesses extraordinary magical prowess. If she can really use healing magic, a highly sought ability, should I inform him?

“She hasn’t tried and doesn’t seem eager to,” I finally settle on saying.

Which is true. Normally, she’s eager to show off what she’s learned, yet when I asked about healing magic, she just tilted her head to the side, mumbling about how “the rules for humans are different.” I assumed that she’d lost interest. And perhaps her lack of enthusiasm is also because she knows that she doesn’t qualify to join the military anyway…

Abigail follows her own code. Sometimes she’ll enter Monster King mode, golden eyes shining as she tells me about rules she must obey, and I often fail to understand. She once said that monsters and humans couldn’t coexist. I’d sensed that the topic wasn’t something I should know about, so I’ve never asked her to elaborate. I mean, she’d probably try to explain if I did ask and does sometimes on her own…but that’s not the point.

“Hmm… I’m getting along in years, so you’ll need more allies if you wish to keep your wife from the public eye. His Highness is someone you can trust. Make sure you collect on all the favors he owes you. Now, hurry and finish here so you can make it back to the capital before us.”

Early the following morning, Rodney and I will split from the troops and head to the castle of the annexed country’s former king. It’s a long detour, but since we’ll be on horseback, we should move much faster than a contingent of over six hundred soldiers.

The general pats me on the shoulder, tells me to do my best, and returns to his tent.

◆◆◆

THE old grandfather helped me plant the mulberry branch we brought back from Longhurst. Crowned with just two leaves, it stands in a large pot on the sill of the dining room’s bay window. By winter, we’ll be able to transplant it to the grove at the back of the estate, and in the meantime, he placed it inside so I can see it.

The potato pancakes I had for breakfast were crispy outside and chewy within. Topped with apple sauce and crunchy bits of fruit, they were even more delicious. The sprout-and-carrot salad was crunchy too, and the tasty plum juice made my cheeks tingle.

It’s not a special occasion, so I dined alone.

I usually think I can eat a little more, though that doesn’t seem to be the case recently. The head cook and Tabitha always ensure that I get the right amount to avoid stomachaches, so that’s probably for the best.

After breakfast, as I exit the dining room, I spot the mulberry plant on the windowsill. The two green leaves sway as if waving at me. Old Grandfather is amazing. I tell the plant to try its best to grow.

On a typical day, I help my lord husband with Drewett’s trading business, assisting with the selection of merchandise to move between the capital and Orta and handling the necessary paperwork. I’m still learning so I’m not good at predicting which items are best for resale. He always helps by choosing products he thinks I’ll like or want to eat.

Since he’s away, I help Ethan with the bookkeeping instead. My lord husband has installed a desk for me in his own office.

“Ethan, this package is supposed to arrive soon, but it’ll probably be late, because…” He quickly produces a map from somewhere, and I point. “Erm, here. The mountain roads here are muddy with rain.”

“I see. We’ll adjust the schedule accordingly.” He jots a memo and calls to someone outside the office. A servant materializes and Ethan passes the note to him along with some instructions.

I sit back, rearranging the various paperweights lining my small desk: a glass bird, a cast-iron lizard, a carved wooden bear that’s heavier than it looks, and a flower encased in crystal that fits perfectly in my hand. They shine in the sunlight from the window to my left, and I enjoy moving the translucent ones to create round rainbows on my desk.

My lord husband bought them for me because he knew I’d like them. Sometimes, I take one and hide it. They don’t have any scent so they should be hard to find, yet he always manages to locate them immediately.

I finish with Ethan and head to the kitchen next. Walking along a hallway, I glance out a window to see the old gardener and his grandson working on the training grounds. They appear to be balancing a row of rectangular stones on the leveled dirt. Are those the stones that used to border the flowerbeds? He did mention wanting to rearrange the beds, I remember. Maybe I can go take a look.

The old gardener’s face is serious as he crouches to place the last stone. His grandson stands with a laugh and yells that “he’ll get the lady,” turning in my direction. When he notices me at the window, his expression changes to one of shock and he begins to wave both arms wildly.

“Let’s use the door, my lady,” says Haggis, who is following behind me. He blocks the open window with an arm, and I lower the foot I’d braced on the windowsill. I almost forgot my manners.

The gardener’s grandson is thirteen, still a small human although he may be slightly taller than me. He’s around the same height as the boy who gave me potatoes. I was much bigger as the Monster King; perhaps that’s why I considered humans small.

As I approach, I spy a surprising number of stones. Spaced at equal intervals, they curve to form a large spiral amid several boards slanting up from the ground and a scattering of small, polished metal balls.

“Have a go, my lady!”

While the grandson cheers, I lift a long stick at the old gardener’s instruction and tap the top of the stone in the very center of the vortex. It topples and hits the next, which hits the next, which…

“Wowww!”

The boy and I chase the wave of falling stones. Amazing! Oh, the board bounced! A metal ball careens into another stone! Wow!

“Isn’t this amazing?!” he yells.

“It is!”

The spiral of stones leads under a hedge. I can’t see it anymore!

“Look at the sky, my lady,” suggests the grandfather, before I can dash around it.

“Wowww! A rainbow!” Water shoots high into the air, catching the sunlight. There’s a sprinkler on the other side! I know it!

“Wow! Amazing! My lor— Oh, he’s not here…”

I was having so much fun that I’d called out for my lord husband.

So much fun, yet my heart suddenly feels tight. The suffocating feeling returns.

The old grandfather promises to make an even longer line of stones once my lord husband returns, and I tell him I’d like to help. I’ll practice how to place the stones correctly until then.

◆◆◆

WE ride for half a day or so, the sky still light by the time we reach our destination. Summer has arrived there earlier than in the capital, and the sun’s heat lingers late into evening.

“Didn’t you say the place is maintained?”

The castle’s trustee, a man with a forgettable face, nods proudly. “We’ve reinforced it so it doesn’t collapse!”

“That’s considered maintenance?”

The structure is half buried in earth and stone, so much so that it appears to have been carved out of a rock face. It’s smaller than Drewett’s castle, yet the remains of a spire with an intricately carved rose window indicate that the king who once lived there was a rich and powerful man. But in the present, despite its management by the royal family, the place lacks in both appeal and population, which likely explains its ramshackle state.

Abigail often says distance on maps is different from distance in reality, and I suddenly understand. The area is so sparsely inhabited that any measurements are sure to be extremely imprecise: the castle, somewhat removed from the fields and pastures ringing the town where the trustee lives, is much closer to the mountains bordering the Monster King’s forest than our map suggested. It sits in the shadow of a cliff, the endpoint of a ridge that extends like a large sword from the direction of the forest.

“Has it always been here? At the foot of a mountain?” asks Rodney. “I guess it must have, but…”

“The castle isn’t close to the mountain—it’s the other way around,” I muse. “We’ll have a better view from the top. The peak isn’t much higher than your typical castle, so maybe it simply wasn’t included on the map.”

“It looks like it was raised by earth magic, doesn’t it?” comments the trustee.

“It’s too big to have been created by normal humans,” I reply.

Rodney gasps. “That’s terrifying…?!”

“I don’t want to think too much about that… Either way, this place looks too dangerous to enter, let alone search for documents.”

Hadn’t Abigail mentioned that the mountains around the forest didn’t exist during the Monster King’s time? Or was it that they weren’t as large as they are now? Must be the latter, since there was that dragon who lived in a cave on the slope.

Rodney and I continue to stare in awe until the trustee timidly says, “My lord, are you looking for records from when the region was its own country? We have an archive of documents that were retrieved from the castle but not taken to the capital.”

“Oh, is that so? Is the archive nearby?”

“It’s in a separate wing of the town hall. You said you wanted to come to the castle, so that’s why I brought you here instead.”

“That I did, so don’t worry. I assume the town hall’s already closed by now anyway.”

“Yes, that’s right. Of course, I can lend you the key to the archive anytime you wish, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to invite you to my home for a mea—”

An earthshaking roar echoes from beyond the castle and cliff. We turn, quickly readying our swords.

The trustee merely shakes his head. “Scary, isn’t it? We hear it from time to time, maybe once a year? Probably just the wind blowing through gaps in the stone.”

Rodney and I share a wordless look and raised brow. We’ve definitely heard that roar before! It’s the creature! That dragon!

🎂🎂🎂

THE following day, dark clouds to the northwest cast a heavy shadow on the horizon and stubbornly remain even as the sun rises.

We visit the archive right after breakfast, and eventually, dusting my grimy hands, I glance out the window to the north with a sigh.

A sudden roar rattles the windowpane.

“It’s coming from that direction, isn’t it?” asks Rodney.

“Yes, it is.”

Actually, we are unexpectedly close to Longhurst, I realize. No rivers or mountains lie between it and our location, and no boundary aside from sparse woodlands across the plains separates the two territories. And few people populate the area, so I can easily see the distant clouds from the tiny town hall. They must be battering the region with a relentless torrent of rain as we speak.

The pane rattles again.

“It doesn’t look like it’s rained here in a long time,” I note.

“I don’t think the people here have much contact with those in Longhurst, probably the result of repeated trade disputes,” supplies Rodney. “They really dislike the locals in Longhurst, so I don’t suppose they care about the crisis there.” He had gleaned as much by listening to servant gossip while I was dining with the trustee and his family the night before.

RATATATA—

“They also said that they’ve always been told by their elders not to interact with people from Longhurst, though they don’t really know the reason.”

“I get why they don’t want to get involved…but I guess it’s true. No matter where you go, people are swayed by rumors. Can’t say I’m different myself.”

“Exactly, Master. You’ve changed so much so quickly; it’s quite hilarious.”

Shame washes over me as I recall how badly I treated Abigail when she first arrived. Stop laughing already, Rodney.

The windowpane shakes incessantly.

“Either way,” he says, “they want nothing to do with Longhurst or its people, so their apathy isn’t that surprising.”

“Fair enough. The trustee was sent here from the capital and isn’t a local, so his research was only out of curiosi—”

RATATA—

“Shut up already! What’s with that creature?!”

“Master, I can’t help but feel that it’s trying to call out to us?”

The roar switches between tones, again and again, from low rumbling groans to high-pitched noises that vibrate the windows.

What does it want?!

◆◆◆

I snuggle in bed with the thunderbird plush my lord husband gave me the previous Holy Night. It’s usually tucked amid the pillows, but it’s been sleeping with me while he’s away on assignment. It’s so fuzzy and warm. While too hot to hug during daytime, it feels cool at night, so it’s perfect for bed.

Tabitha pulls the blankets up to my chin, says goodnight, and leaves the room.

I’ve been protecting the house for three weeks. During that time, I invited Miss Rickman over to pick strawberries and enjoy tea in the back garden. I had never hosted a tea party before, and I think I did a good job as viscountess.

Earlier in the evening, I walked around the house with Ethan to check all the doors and windows. After he turned each lock, I tested it to make sure it was secure. I promised him I’d protect our home.

Closing my eyes, I bury my face in the thunderbird and focus my mind in the direction my lord husband indicated to me before he left. I’m really good at sensing monsters and the weather, no matter how far away. I was also great at detecting my lord husband’s whereabouts when we were both in Longhurst. But when he’s staying in a human settlement, I can’t find him at all.

That’s why I scan the forests and mountains that lie in his general direction. Monsters always listen to their area’s boss, so it’ll be fine. If they’re keeping to schedule, my lord husband should be on his way back to the capital. How close does he have to be before I can sense him again, I wonder. Probably the city’s outermost gates.

Both the thunderbird and my bed are fluffy and warm, much warmer than the forest spring in wintertime. Yet, for some reason, my core feels cold.

I used to wait every winter for the small human to return in spring, until he didn’t.

My lord husband isn’t like that. Besides, this is his home. He’ll definitely come back.

And Tabitha and Ethan are here too. The old gardener teaches me all about flowers created by humans, and the chef prepares delicious human food for me. My life is completely different from before. Nobody lies to me. And nobody tries to kill me.

🎂🎂🎂

IN my spare time, I make lots of baby socks and gloves, embellishing them with embroidery.

Tabitha tells me the baby isn’t due for a while. I’ve also heard that humans stay pregnant for about nine months, so the baby will probably arrive in winter. Although we’ll surely visit Drewett in autumn for the harvest festival, the baby won’t be there yet.

Human babies cannot roll over when they are born. I was the same. I remember being surprised that I was unable to move much despite spending so long inside my mother. I don’t think I was given any socks or gloves to wear, so I must have been born in spring. Lady Stella’s baby will be born in winter, so it should have gloves and socks.

I’m sitting under the parasol in the back garden, staring up at the trees the old grandfather has trimmed. Shimmering sunlight reflects off the leaves, the glare much stronger than on the day my lord husband departed. He’s promised to teach me how to swim that summer.

I hope it’ll be summer by the time he comes home.

“My lady?”

I turn to see Tabitha leading Miss Rickman toward me. Behind them trails a servant carrying several large books. Miss Rickman and I had agreed to show each other our favorite books that day.

I’ve selected The Encyclopedia of Marine Animals, which waits on the table next to me. I like it because it’s not too heavy to hold, has a smooth and shiny cover, and contains realistic illustrations of the sea creatures.

When I last invited Miss Rickman to tea, I drew a roly-poly in crayon on a corner of the envelope, and she praised me for depicting the roly-poly accurately with fourteen legs. She’s amazing. Even Ethan doesn’t know how many legs a roly-poly has. She loves insects, so I’m certain she’s brought some amazing books.

“Wow! Horses plow fields?! They can work?!” I exclaim.

“Th-They can dig up potatoes and h-harvest them.”

One of the books she shares is about the different horses that humans have bred. Big horses, small horses. Horses that work in mines are slight but strong, I learn. I don’t think Longhurst uses horses in their mine. Or maybe they do; I’ve never been to look.

I’m as unfamiliar with animals that coexist with humans, like cows and horses, as I am the cultivated flowers and trees the old grandfather plants in our garden. For example, the haggis I ate the previous year came from a type of magic goat hybrid. I know plenty about magic goats but nothing about such hybrid creatures.

Perhaps those mirror birds caged in the outbuilding on the Longhurst estate had faced the same fate and were intended to produce novel hybrids. They’d failed to become anything new, however, and had hated the experience anyway.

“Do you know about magic goat hybrids, Miss Rickman?”

“Y-Y-Yes. Th-They’re delicious. They’re more resistant to d-disease than regular sheep and are easier to raise.”

“How did humans get the magic goats to mate with regular sheep?”

“I-It’s difficult to get m-monsters to do our bidding, s-so we tempt them with food, th-then let the sheep loose in the magic goats’ territory and w-wait for them to mate naturally.”

The mirror birds had been starved, so they were coerced for certain.

“V-Viscount Noel should be back soon, right? O-O-Once he’s back, we can v-visit the library together.”

🎂🎂🎂

AFTER sharing the cookies I received from the gardener with Miss Rickman, Tabitha and I escort her to the gate. I don’t step beyond it though. I promised not to leave the grounds of our estate.

She waves goodbye as her carriage pulls away, and I wave back. The instant her coach disappears down the road, some humans emerge from the roadside.

Five of them, including my stepmother, Brianna.

I’ve also promised to hide behind my lord husband when I see strangers, and since he’s away on assignment, I was told to duck behind Ethan instead. But Ethan is somewhere in the house.

Two guards are usually stationed at the gate. That day is Haggis’s turn, his partner the old soldier who taught me how to crack walnuts. Brianna and two of the men rush closer just as they start to pull the iron gates shut for the afternoon.

I guess Brianna is sort of a stranger, but is this a dangerous situation…? Before I can decide, Tabitha steps to stand in front of me. The two guards, likely noticing Brianna and the men, slam the gate closed and hoist their spears, ready to stab any threat.

Brianna reaches the gate too late and clucks her tongue in annoyance before smoothing her expression. “Stand down. I am the mother of the mistress of this house.”

“Get back,” Haggis says to me in a low voice. He knocks his spear against the iron bars near Brianna’s grip on the gate. Walnut levels his spear at the two men.

“Are these people from Longhurst, my lady?” asks Tabitha just as quietly.

“Yes. She’s my stepmother!”

Tabitha nods without turning back.

“We need to talk, Abigail. Tell your men to open the gates!”

Tabitha’s voice is usually calm and soft when she speaks to me, but at that moment, her tone is loud and clear: “The lord of the house has instructed us not to engage with anyone from Longhurst. Please leave.”

I’ve not been told to hide behind Tabitha, so I peek around her.

I haven’t seen Brianna in some time, and she appears rather dirty. She always wore lots of heavy-looking jewels, none of which are present.

“Still hiding behind your servants, I see. Just like when you turned him away when he came asking for help.” She cranes her neck, staring hard at my face and clothes. Her eyes look like my stepsister’s during our encounter at the ball. I’d always thought Nadia took after the earl, but she definitely resembles Brianna more.

“Help?”

“Yes! That’s why he was forced to beg everywhere, only to die a pauper’s death!”

She must be talking about the earl. Did I turn him away?

My lord husband once asked me if I wanted to provide aid to Longhurst after its granaries were trampled by frenzy sheep. I remember saying no. The territory’s management was no longer my job, and the earl wasn’t going to give me food anyway.

“Honestly…” seethes Brianna. “I told him not to think too much, to just make use of you, but he’s always been a fool, so afraid that he made the stupid decision to marry you off—and look where that’s gotten us!”

“It was the earl’s job to prevent the frenzy sheep stampede, and he failed. It can’t be helped,” I tell her.

If a boss fails to lead, its herd will chase it away or even kill it. That’s true for monsters, and true for humans as well, I’ve learned. The earl failed, so he died.

“He’s your father! Don’t you feel anything for your own blood?! This is why they call you a mons—”

“Chase them away!”

At Tabitha’s sharp command, Haggis swings his spear at Brianna, and she screams as he strikes her hand with a loud clang against the iron gate.

“This is the residence of Viscount Noel! How dare you senseless commoners make a scene before a nobleman’s home! Guards, haul them to jail!”

Walnut whistles for backup as Haggis hoists his spear and pushes the gate open. The pair accompanying Brianna hurriedly pull her back down the road, diving into the shadows where the other two men lurk. They certainly move fast.

Chapter Seven: I Can Keep My Promises

Chapter Seven: I Can Keep My Promises

JUST as His Excellency suspected, the two-century-old documents aren’t of much use to the prince’s efforts in Longhurst. He’ll have better luck relying on his talented aides who are actually trained in disaster management.

What the territory needs is governance that plans for its future. The region suffers from its unique landscape and its people’s unusual distrust of outsiders, so the crown may resort to force to secure its submission. Even so, they’ll have to truly understand Longhurst if they wish to continue their rule. The locals proved ignorant and violent enough to attack us in the presence of royalty, and that danger will only increase if more officials are posted there.

The administrative manor no longer contains any record of Longhurst’s history, and a number of its villages have been destroyed in the flooding. And when we approached the nobles of neighboring territories for more information, nobody had anything to offer because their relationship with Longhurst was confined to trade.

The small country we’re investigating seems to have suffered the same fate, yet I somehow feel that something else spurred its ruin. A sentiment that I’ve shared with Prince Dominic.

It occurred to me when we were in Longhurst, driving the criminals into the forest as sacrifices to the dragon. The earl’s former assistant had once talked about his hometown, mentioning that its inhabitants commonly studied the forest’s monsters and plants and how to harvest them for human use. And his hometown is the very same unmarked village that was recently destroyed by heavy rains.

Because he referenced it in passing, I had no clues regarding its location but figured I’d find it if I did some research. I hadn’t imagined that it wasn’t recorded on any map… In the end, Rickman was the one to track it down: the hometown of the former assistant and Brianna, a hidden village situated between the city of Longhurst and the annexed country.

If the hero who killed the Monster King had been sent by the country’s king, they might very well have passed through that village on their way to the forest. That would also mean their army illegally crossed the border into our kingdom, but perhaps our capital was too far away to notice what was happening.

And if Prince Dominic is unaware of the event, the killing of the Monster King must have been a secret operation, and records pertaining to it are still somewhere in the annexed country instead of the capital’s forbidden archive.

“But they’re not!” I groan in frustration.

“It’s rare that your hunch is wrong, Master,” Rodney says.

Evening has arrived, and although I’ve been searching the town hall’s archives since the previous morning, I’ve yet to discover any reference to the village.

The small country was likely self-sufficient at the time, but I’m guessing its king was interested in the far more fertile Longhurst. In that case, there should be surveys of the territory’s farms—or village population.

“Either way, I’ll pass whatever we’ve found to His Highness… Maybe Rickman or the others will manage to extract something useful from it.”

“That’s fair… But what will we do, Master?”

“What will we do about what?”

“This! It’s been roaring constantly! For almost two full days! Aren’t you curious about it, Master?”

“Of course I’m curious! It just won’t shut up!”

“Even the trustee and townspeople have been giving us worried glances.”

“Didn’t they insist it’s just the wind? Why are they worried now…? What are they expecting me, a lone soldier, to do in the mountains?”

I am curious, that’s true.

We’ll pass the peak on our way to the capital the following morning, and when I tell the trustee that I’ll look into the noise, he smiles widely in return.

“Wonderful! That the glorious Viscount Noel has offered this is a relief! Our people are too scared to venture into the mountains for fear of getting cursed or incurring the wrath of the gods! Everyone knows that the monster worshippers live there!”

Is that so?! Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?!

“Tell me more, now,” I demand.

🎂🎂🎂

FINALLY, I hear the full story from the trustee, servants, and other townspeople.

Though the details differ from person to person, the general narrative, passed down over generations, is the same. When I asked Rodney why nobody had thought to mention the tale earlier, he replied that they were reluctant to share their childish and superstitious folklore with someone so intelligent from the capital.

Honestly, so annoying.

The story starts with a warning, much like Longhurst’s version: Don’t go into the mountains. Don’t interact with those who live on the other side. They are all monsters in human skin.

The tale begins before the mountains even existed.

The lush green forest was home to all kinds of monsters, and unless one was trained to deal with them, to even step foot inside was unthinkable.

Yet there existed a settlement of farmers who were somehow able to enter the forest to harvest its ripe fruit and catch the plump fish in its rivers unbothered. They were never attacked by monsters, and their land was always fertile.

The farmers mocked any outsiders who came to marvel at their bounty, jeering that they were different from everyone else. Sometimes, they fired flaming arrows to chase the strangers away. Sometimes, the monsters themselves charged from the forest.

In spite of all that, the greedy king of a small country wanted that land for himself. Those farmers must worship the monsters, he decided. They offer sacrifices to the monsters; that’s why they aren’t attacked.

The king would make a name for himself. He would subjugate those who had strayed from humanity. He sent an army to do so that summer, yet when winter arrived, they hadn’t returned.

Then, on a sunny day so cold it chilled the bones, thousands of lightning bolts struck the small country.

The sky was soon blanketed in heavy black clouds. A blizzard of ice obliterated the region, and despite the freezing temperature, the river flooded. The earth cracked and folded upward, forming the mountains and a ridge that pierced the king’s castle like a sword.

That ridge became the boundary between humans and the monsters clad in human skin. If anyone dared to cross the border, they would be cursed and lose everything.

And thus the story ends, with a repeat of the warning: Don’t enter the mountains.

Frankly, the citizens of the small country didn’t seem to have learned much from the king’s mistakes. But what’s most hilarious is how the people of Longhurst are viewed as monsters themselves.

But flaming arrows? A fire that summons monsters from the forest? It can only be one thing.

🎂🎂🎂

BURIED in rocks and rubble, the first floor of the castle is virtually impossible to enter. Of course, we could attempt to climb in through one of the open windows, but why bother?

“They say the roars sound nearer than usual, but it’s actually disturbingly close,” Rodney observes.

“Agreed. Especially when monster bosses can’t leave their own territory.”

“Oh, yes. That’s what the lady said about Little Piyo.”

“Right… But Little Piyo was flying toward Drewett that day, wasn’t he? Just because he didn’t leave the territory doesn’t mean he can’t.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

We’ll scale the rock face to try to glimpse what’s on the other side. Leaving our horses and effects at the bottom, we start the ascent. Really, the cliff is only slightly taller than the small castle beside us, so it’s hardly a mountain. With the aid of body fortification magic, we soon reach the top.

Yet the roars do not stop, and the way the stones tremble from the noise is worrying. The source must be close by.

A row of narrow peaks connects the cliff to the mountains surrounding the forest, as though a giant had shaped the landscape out of sand. Wasteland, devoid of even a single blade of grass, stretches out on either side of the ridge. There is nowhere for a human to hide, much less a dragon. So where is i—

A particularly loud roar thunders around us, and the rock a few paces away starts to crack and crumble. Rodney and I scream as we grip each other’s shoulders, jumping backward as the ground collapses beneath us.

“…It’s a sinkhole.”

“Yes.”

We cautiously crawl to the edge and peek into the gaping pit. It is a steep drop into darkness, in which a pair of green lights shimmer.

A leg with thick claws steps into the sunlight, followed by a head covered in smooth white scales. Taller than us when not in a hole, it stands slightly hunched, peering up at us with its green eyes.

I knew it! I knew it was you!

A rumbling purr escapes its throat, and it kicks its legs. Even its tiny arms, their size a stark contrast to its massive form, start to wave.

“Wait! Wait! Don’t jump! The ground! It’ll collapse!”

So the cliff is hollow?! That’s why the roars echo so loudly!

Wait, I said don’t jump!

After a while, the dragon calms. It studies me from its hole, then Rodney, something behind us, and me once more. Again and again as it seems to grow more upset, until it finally realizes…

“Abigail isn’t here.”

The dragon is still for a long while, so I must have guessed right.

“So you’re the one who created this mountain?” I ask it.

“You always speak so naturally to monsters, Master.”

“Abigail did say that this one’s quite intelligent.”

“Well, I guess it is… Though it still seems surprised.”

Abruptly, the dragon rolls a chunk of emerald ore toward me, a peace offering perhaps, and I make the mistake of moving closer for a better look.

An hour later, I’m still trapped in its grasp as it sniffs me all over.

I want to leave soon, and it’s holding me with just enough force that I can’t get away. Damn, and here I was looking forward to ending this monthlong assignment a few days early…

“Can’t you find something? Anything to distract it?” I ask.

“It’s impossible… Oh, how about the handkerchief the lady embroi—”

“Definitely not.”

“Right…”

Another hour passes before Rodney manages to dig out an item with Abigail’s scent from our bags. It is the leather pouch he balled up to let her practice parrying. At last, I’m released.

The ever-resourceful Kofi family saves the day again…

◆◆◆

TWO days have passed since we chased Brianna away. The guards wanted to follow and arrest the group but hesitated to leave the house unguarded. Ultimately, Ethan decided to increase the number on duty, and they will look for her once my lord husband comes home.

I am practicing with Ethan again and he produces a blue crayon from nowhere. I still don’t know where he hides things. Why?

“It’s a little windy out today, my lady. Shall we stay indoors and write letters? Lord Samuel is still waiting for a reply from you.”

“Yes! My blue crayon’s running out, so this is perfect, Ethan!”

Lord Samuel sends me pictures he’s drawn, so I always send him some in return. His most recent is of tadpoles in the castle pond, according to an accompanying note from Lady Stella. Maybe I should draw some frogs. Because I have a new blue crayon, I could draw frost toads. Frost toads appear strong due to the three large twisty horns growing from their heads but are actually soft and bouncy to the touch. I’m sure Lord Samuel won’t be scared of them.

In the greenhouse, I fan out the papers Ethan has given me. I sit at a table with a view of the courtyard, and sunlight falls onto my hands, passing through a glass roof supported by intricately carved beams. The day is windy but sunny, so I have enough light to draw well.

As I’m finishing up, I hear a commotion from the entrance of the house. I reach out mentally and sense the aura of an unfamiliar human. Abruptly, I notice the sound of staff dashing through the corridors. How strange. Rarely does anyone run in the house.

I enter the front hall to see Ethan instructing some servants and guards. One servant then darts out the front door. The aura is gone, so the other human must have left.

Tabitha is sprinting down the hallway toward me. She grabs my hands and leads me to an armchair by the wall, urges me to sit. She kneels before me, still holding my hands. “A messenger was just here. The troops returning from assignment were caught in a rockfall. We haven’t received any other information yet, so we’re sending someone to the military headquarters to wait.”

So the unknown human is a courier relaying word of the incident to families of high-ranking officers. As soon as more news arrives, he’d said, the servant we dispatch to headquarters will notify us.

The assignment involves many soldiers, and the troops march in a long line. The rockfall occurred while they were traversing a ravine, splitting the column in half. My lord husband and his men are at the back, trapped behind the rockfall, the courier said.

“The map, Ethan,” I say. “No, which direction are they? Which direction, please?”

He pulls a map from nowhere anyway, spreading it to point to a location. I ask him about the distance to the ravine, then focus my mind in that direction.

I’ve checked every night before bed. The monsters have all been on their best behavior. So why did this happen?

Since I can’t sense human establishments, the numerous villages and towns between us interfere with my sight—yet I should be able to see beyond them.

“But I can’t. Why? Is there a town nearby?”

“Yes. There’s a big town just before the gorge. The first messenger bird reported that the incident occurred on a narrow road leading to the checkpoint at its mouth, so the safety of the troops on the other side hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

“The military is trained to respond to disasters, my lady. They must be clearing the rock away now. Will you wait with Tabitha until the next message arrives?”

A veteran guard comes to share an account of a similar incident in Drewett in the past. My lord husband was still a child then and nevertheless joined the recovery effort, so he is experienced in handling such events and is likely in charge of the current response. Chuckling, the guard tells me to stay optimistic before returning to his post.

Humans are good at certain things. They’re good at lying, forgetting, and dying.

“My lord will be home soon.”

“Yes, yes. Master promised that, didn’t he?”

“Yes. My lord is strong, and I don’t lie. So why don’t I feel calm, Tabitha?” My chest is empty, and my stomach uneasy with…pain? Maybe a little ache.

She strokes my hands, and they feel colder than usual. Oh!

“Rodney!” I cry.

“He’s always right beside Master, so he’ll be fine too,” she answers with a smile.

That’s right. If my lord husband is safe, then Rodney is safe. But I still don’t feel calm. I give Tabitha’s icy fingers a squeeze before standing.

“My lady?”

“Maybe I could sense them from the top of the outermost castle wall. There are too many humans here; I can’t see very well.”

I tug her out the front door and toward the closed gates. My lord husband and Rodney are surely fine, yet something feels strange. Although built by humans, the checkpoint at the canyon’s entrance forms an invisible boundary between the realms of human and monster.

If only I could get a better look beyond. The town near the ravine must be really big to obstruct my view in such a manner. Or maybe too many humans live there?

They’re just…in the way.

Tabitha pulls me to a stop just inside the gates. “My lady! No, my lady. Didn’t you promise Master that you won’t go outside the estate grounds?”

“Oh, that’s right!”

“Besides, we still don’t know if those people from Longhurst are…” She trails off.

The two guards glare at something on the roadside, and Tabitha’s eyes narrow as well.

Brianna. Hands on her hips, she struts across the street with her men. She’s still here. When they reach the closed gates, she crosses her arms and huffs loudly. “Do you want to know more about your beloved husband?”

“We don’t have to listen to her, my lady. Let’s head inside,” Tabitha urges.

“What insolence, servant!” cries Brianna.

“Can you tell me more about my lord and Rodney?” I ask.

“My lady!” Tabitha shakes her head again, but I nod. This is my job as mistress.

Brianna smirks. “Your place looks nice, so why don’t you invite me in first?”

One of her men starts to tug on her sleeve. “That’s not part of the pla—”

“Shut up, I’ve had enough of this! I’ve not been in a proper house in forever!” The ragged hem of her dress is soaked with mud, and her robe looks dusty and dirty. She must be hungry too.

Ethan rushes from the mansion, coming to stand beside me. I glimpse another servant silently running toward the back gate, probably to alert the guards there.

“You can come in,” I say. “Please open the gates.”

One of the guards looks between Ethan and me, then hefts his spear and opens the gate wide enough for one person to slip through. Brianna moves to enter, and the guard blocks her way.

“What now?”

“Only you. No one else has business being here.”

“And don’t expect any hospitality from us,” Ethan adds. “So, what have you done?”

“Huh?”

Ethan steps forward to stand in front of me, and I sidle away. It’s not an emergency yet! I don’t have to hide! Brianna may be bigger than me, but I’m stronger.

“The message from the military arrived just a short while ago. How would you have any knowledge of what’s happened?” presses Ethan.

She huffs again. “As I said, if you want to know, you’ll have to invite me in as a guest.”

Ethan is right. That she, a human, could know something I can’t sense myself isn’t possible.

Mother-in-Law has taught me that I must treat guests as they deserve to be treated.

The woman before me is a liar and never gave me food when I lived at Longhurst. Since coming to the capital, I’ve learned that she was supposed to feed me whether I worked or not. My lord husband said that I shouldn’t have been denied food.

“If you want to eat our food, then you’ll have to work!” I tell her.

“What?!”

“Well done, my lady,” Tabitha says as she places an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

Brianna takes a step forward, then freezes.

“Just give the order, my lady, and we’ll make her talk.” Ethan has somehow produced a long, thin silver needle that resembles an ice pick, and is pointing it right at Brianna’s nose. Where was he hiding it? It must be one of his concealed weapons! It’s so shiny!

She jerks back, tucking her chin downward. I spot more of our guards outside the gates and closing in on the men still standing outside. The strangers appear a little shaken but are still smirking.

“Look at all you idiots, treating the monster girl as your mistress. Just hand her over, and we’ll let you off. There’s no point keeping her if you’re not going to use h— Eek!”

With a tiny flick of Ethan’s hand, the needle grazes Brianna’s shoulder before burying itself in the arm of the man behind her. “Nonsense.” He already has a second needle poised in his hand! When did he get that?! I still don’t understand!

The man, who’d been fumbling with something in his pocket, drops it in pain. The object rolls toward Brianna’s feet. It looks like a small glass vial, and she stops its trajectory with a foot. That’s bad manners.

There’s something in the vial… Black powder?

“Do you know what this is? You should know; you’ve seen it before. Chase us away, and your master will be attacked by crazed monsters.”

“…Summoning blooms?” Ethan’s voice is flat. He holds the needle at the ready. The guards shift as well, gripping their weapons tighter. Tabitha’s fingers dig into my shoulder.

Everyone remembers Nadia’s attempt to burn summoning blooms in the bonfire at Drewett’s harvest festival. She had used dried flowers, and though I can’t smell the contents of the vial, it must contain the flowers crushed into powder form.

Those belong in the forest, not to you. They exist to protect it, not you.

These humans still do not understand.

“…You know what happened to your daughter when she tried to do this,” I say.

“She was a fool! She didn’t even know how to use it!”

“Is there a human with this substance waiting near the ravine?”

“That’s right.” Brianna leers. “Even an idiot can guess what will happen if he sets it on fire and scatters it in the wind above the gorge’s mouth… Anyway, you’re talking a lot today. Seems like you’ve gotten better at trying to mimic us humans.”

“So he is somewhere high up.”

A forest borders the ravine. It’s not the Monster King’s forest, so a different boss reigns there. I’ve never met the creature, a python ape even older than the dragon. It looks like a monkey, albeit much bigger, with fur everywhere except its belly, which is armored with large scales.

Ever since my lord husband departed, I’ve been checking in with each area’s boss and they tell me things.

That noisy one is gone, says one.

My monsters are all behaving, says another.

Mine fought with that troublesome one.

I didn’t leave the nest, so I don’t know much.

The weather has been good.

Most of the soldiers on assignment are weaker than my lord husband, but some are strong like His Excellency the general. The monsters that live nearby are all weak and low in number. The python ape, old and wise, nests in an isolated cave.

I reach out to it. Please protect your babies.

“My lord and his men will be fine now,” I declare. “Ethan, please capture these humans.”

I can’t see where the rockfall occurred, and even the smartest monster bosses can’t distinguish good humans from bad. But if I share that the ill-intentioned human is somewhere high, maybe it’ll know the location.

Oh. It’s already moving. Good.

“Seize them!” At Ethan’s command, the guards level their spears and advance on the group.

One of the men hastily raises his hand. “L-Light up!”

“A-Are you out of your mind?!” screeches Brianna.

His left hand clenched, the man stretches his right toward the sky, a small fireball floating on his upturned palm.

Ethan signals and the guards halt. The man cackles but doesn’t extinguish the fireball. His legs are shaking. What’s wrong?

“Will you really do it?” asks Ethan. “None of us will be safe if you burn that, including you.”

“You think I’d stay here and wait for them to come?! You’d better start running too! It’s every man for himself!”

I inhale, and sure enough, I smell the summoning blooms. If he burns the vial, any monsters nearby will flock to the capital.

They’re not strong at all. There are so many humans in the city; the monsters will all be killed.

This wasn’t why I taught the small human how to use the blooms.

The other men are all trembling, yet they brandish daggers and wooden sticks, though the latter is hardly a good weapon. They huddle together and start to push through the gate. “If we do it, your master will be blamed for the resulting carnage! Now, just give us that monster girl and we’ll leave!” one of them threatens again.

“Silence! Don’t you insult my lady!” cries Tabitha.

“You shut up! Hand her over!”

Tabitha has stepped in front of me, so I can only hear their voices, but I sense the man’s lunge.

The guards yell and Brianna screams.

I feel a violent shove through Tabitha’s body, and red splatters the air.

“Tabitha?”

Her soft, warm body sways and she falls to her knees. On her shoulder, a gash the length of my palm.

The man, much larger than Tabitha, knocks her aside, and I glimpse a small dagger in his hand.

“Over here, my lady!” shouts Walnut, grabbing my shoulder and dragging me backward. He tries to pick me up, but…

“Tabitha. Tabitha,” her name falls from my lips.

Haggis steps in front of her fallen form, shielding her from the rest of the men. Tabitha, Tabitha.

The guards are strong but must be holding back because of the summoning blooms. They’re unable to attack.

Can healing magic reach her from my position? No, I can’t.

She’s so near, but too far away.

I don’t know the human body that well yet.

I need to get closer, touch her, see the injury.

I don’t know humans that well yet.

“Tabitha! Tabitha!” I wrench myself from Walnut’s arms and finally reach her side. But before I can touch her shoulder, she grabs my hand.

“I was careless! It’s just a scratch!” she tells me.

“But you’re—”

“No! You may not want to go back, but that’s different from not being allowed to go back!” She stands hurriedly and hauls me to my feet with all her strength. “You promised, my lady, not to wield it for minor injuries!”

But Tabitha. Humans are weak.

Weaker than me.

“Quick, into the house!” She and Walnut hold me between them as they move.

“Bring that monster girl back!”

Ethan and the guards surge forward, creating a human barrier in our wake. There are so many arms, legs, bodies everywhere. The flash of a wooden stick raised overhead. I can’t tell what belongs to whom anymore.

But I’ve practiced!

SNAP!

A crack echoes through the grounds, and the stick, along with the arm holding it, is suddenly encased in ice.

I did it!

“…Huh?” Brianna’s eyes are wide. The man with the summoning blooms seems stunned, for his fireball vanishes. That’s right, nobody from Longhurst knows that I can wield magic.

“Freeze,” I murmur belatedly.

“My lady…”

The man was going to throw the stick at Tabitha. I promised my lord husband that I’d protect the house and everyone in it.

Brianna and the others are shouting, but a ringing in my ears muffles their voices.

Magical power courses through my body.

The Monster King was stronger than the other monsters.

But it wasn’t the boss. It didn’t protect the ones who lived in its forest.

It shouldn’t have saved the small human that day at all.

I was a monster then, and those were the monsters’ rules.

My lord husband used to hold me while teaching me how to control my magic.

I know how to do it now.

“A-A-Aaah!”

“W-Waaahhh!”

Oh, but the power is swelling, leaking out of my grasp.

Ice begins to crackle up from the ground around Brianna and her men. Ethan and the guards falter a step back. Good.

If I kill a human, thousands more will come in revenge.

I was once hungry, cold, and weak.

I’m no longer hungry.

And I’m human now, so I’ll follow human rules.

The ice creeps upward, freezing them up to their waists.

“You’re not needed,” I tell them. I take a deep breath, my ears still ringing. I’ll use an incantation, just like a human. “Free—”

“No, my lady! Master will be sad!” shrieks Tabitha as she embraces me.

Somewhere far away, I hear someone else yelling. “Abby! Let me do it!”

And then the overpowering magic disappears, and I hear the cries of Brianna and the men again.

My lord husband feels sad when I’m hurt, but I’m not hurt. In fact, I’m doing well. Will he feel sad? …Oh.

“Everyone, get down!” At Ethan’s shout, the guards and Tabitha drop to the ground, Tabitha yanking me down as well.

“Cut!”

I peek out from her arms, toward the source of the incantation.

The wind whistles sharply, then I hear screams and what sounds like drops of water hitting the ground.

“Abby!” My lord husband dashes over the cobblestones. He’s so fast. I see Rodney tailing him. His black hair is tied behind his back, and he must be using body fortification magic because he reaches us in no time. So very fast!

“My lord!” I stand up with Tabitha and hold my arms wide. He scoops me up in an instant. “My lord, my lord! Tabitha is—! We don’t need that human! I’m not supposed to heal! But Tabitha—”

“Abby, Abby, are you hurt?” He strokes my cheek as he checks. I’m not, because I wielded my magic well.

Yet, although the magic is no longer flooding my body, something else still buzzes inside.

“I don’t need that human!” I shout.

“Calm down, Abby.”

“It’s just a scratch, my lady.”

“But—”

“Let me do it. Don’t waste your magic on such vermin.”

My lord husband once told me that I don’t have to be the Monster King anymore. Even though he knows that I’m very strong. And I can cast any type of magic, yet Tabitha asked me not to do so. Even though she knows I can.

I just don’t understand humans…

But this smells nice. My lord husband smells so lovely. I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze, and he squeezes me back. He feels different from my thunderbird plush. His hand pats me on the head before brushing down my neck, again and again.

Slowly, the buzzing inside me recedes.

…Oh. Why is he back already? “My lord?”

“Yes?”

“You’re back early! But there was an incident! What happened?!”

“I’ll tell you more later, but I ran into a servant as he was making his way to headquarters. Now, about this…” He sighs before glaring at Brianna and her men.

All of them are groaning or wailing, their bodies ripped open by his wind magic. My ice has melted, but they seem unable get up and flee. The guards surround them, spears out.

Ethan briefly summarizes for my lord husband what’s happened. I use the lull to inform him that everything is fine at the ravine too. Of course, I whisper that part quietly in his ear.

“I see. I guess that means the boss there has taken care of that man?”

“Yes, because it’s smart!”

“Good job. As expected of my wife, you’ve done well protecting our house. Thank you.”

“Yes!”

He praised me! I’m certain I’ll get a reward later.

Meanwhile, Rodney orders the guards to bind Brianna and the men with rope. In a pile on the drive, they call repeatedly for a healer. The request is ignored.

Tabitha shakes her head, saying that leaving them there is unsightly, and tells the guards to move them away from the gate to a more secluded spot. She’s wrapped a large shawl around the gash on her shoulder, and I wouldn’t guess from her movements that she’s injured at all.

“They caused the rockfall just to hold me back?” My lord husband clucks his tongue in annoyance. “Let’s say they did kidnap Abby, what then? Longhurst isn’t going to return to its former glory.”

“We’ll know more about their motives once we interrogate them…which I’d like to do myself,” Ethan says in a low voice.

My lord husband still seems upset but kisses my nose when he sees me watching him. I return the favor.

“They’ve definitely caused a disturbance, attempting to use summoning blooms within the capital… Unfortunately, that means we’ll have to turn them over to the proper authorities. I told a servant to relay the message to His Highness Prince Dominic instead of the royal guard, so he should be here soon.”

Abruptly, Brianna speaks. “Why? Why do you protect that monster?” She is bound, though that doesn’t stop her from crawling in our direction. She scowls up at us, and her face twists as she bares her teeth, screaming, “You! You monster! Don’t act so cocky!”

“…You know, we only need one man alive for the interrogation. What do you think, Ethan?”

“I understand your sentiment, Master… But you’ll be letting her off easy by killing her now.”

“Fair enough… Damn it. I’ll make sure they interrogate her as thoroughly as possible. You, gag her with something. Abby, let’s go inside. I have souvenirs for you.”

“Monsters ought to act like monsters! Nobody will ever love y—” Brianna thrashes as a cloth is forced into her mouth, blood flying everywhere. She looks just like a raccoon caught in a trap. I conclude that she and Nadia are wholly the same.

Never love me. I recall my lord husband saying something similar to me on the first night we met. Back then, I didn’t understand what that meant. But now…

“That’s what she says.”

“Abby?”

“But my lord, you said you love me. Me too. I love you too.”

I understand, because he’s taught me.

Chapter Eight: I’ve Come to Understand Beauty

Chapter Eight: I’ve Come to Understand Beauty

I thought we’d lost a fair amount of time because of the dragon, yet we still managed to return to the capital ahead of schedule.

After passing through the second set of gates, we bumped into one of the household servants, who appeared pale and terrified. Piecing together the story from his incoherent babbling, we left our horses with him and sprinted homeward, employing body fortification magic to boost our speed.

The moment I caught sight of the half-frozen people in front of our gates, my mind nearly imploded. None of the servants is skilled enough to wield that amount of magic.

Abigail has always been indifferent to what happens to her. She is no longer the Monster King, but that apathy remains. And yet…

What has made my dear wife do this?

🎂🎂🎂

ABGAIL’S emotions have slowly developed in complexity, weaving together like various colored threads to create a carpet of increasingly intricate design. Sometimes, she asks questions about things that puzzle her, then stews over my answer as though slowly digesting it.

Despite her growth, Abigail’s worldview remains frighteningly simple. Only recently have I felt that she was finally beginning to understand that love and affection come in different forms and intensities.

And now! Now!

“Master! Maaaster! Come on! You need to get ready to head to the palace! Come on!” nags Rodney, again.

Prince Dominic’s personal knights arrived and, after a simple explanation from Ethan, arrested Brianna and her men. Apprehension of criminals isn’t typically part of the knights’ duties, but since Longhurst is currently His Highness’s responsibility, I suppose they can make an exception. Of course, I’ll have to leave soon to give him a personal account, but…

“Just a little more.”

“We’ve waited long enough! Please continue later! Laaater!”

I ignore him and bury my face in Abigail’s shoulder as emotion overwhelms me once more.

She said she loves me! Loves! Just let me bask in this a little longer!

I feel her slender arms wrap around my neck and… Wait, why is she inhaling so deeply?! “Wait, A-Abby! I must stink! Wait! Wait, wait!”

I’ve been camping outdoors for a while, I realize, and after riding back to the capital, I ran through the city—I definitely smell bad! I hurry to place her down, and she simply grips me tighter. Why is she suddenly so strong?!

Rodney’s shoulders tremble as he pulls a can from our bags. He hands it to Tabitha, who approaches quietly.

“My lady? Master has a souvenir for you.”

“Souvenir!” Just like that, Abigail jumps lightly to the ground, and I feel somewhat disappointed despite my dirtiness.

I use the opportunity to change, then depart for the palace. Abigail followed me around the house as I prepared, clutching the can. I want to conclude my errand quickly so I can return to her.

We are led not to the royals’ wing but to the barracks so we can enter without too much fuss. Before long, Prince Dominic arrives with McGregor and Rickman.

Rodney and I didn’t gather many survey documents from the small country, but what we did find is bound in leather string. He passes the stack to McGregor.

“Hello, sir,” says the prince. “I wasn’t expecting you to arrive so early after the incident, but I’m glad you’re safe. New intelligence also just came in: there seems to have been no casualties.”

“Yes, I stopped by headquarters before coming here. They have a team that specializes in debris clearance, so there shouldn’t be any issues. His Excellency will be there to supervise as well.”

“Ah, yes. General Whittington has always been a fan of the unexpected. I can just picture him leading the team with enthusiasm.”

“It’ll be great practical training for them, even if it wasn’t purely caused by nature…”

“It wasn’t? Goodness, what do you mean?”

Abigail explained what had happened in the gorge as I got ready, gesturing wildly with her hands, waving the can to and fro.

The canyon is deep, the road along its floor just wide enough for our troops to pass through. Closer to the checkpoint, the towering walls on either side close in like a trap, casting a shadow on the road and allowing but a small sliver of a glimpse of the sky and dangling foliage above. The reports say the cliff collapsed across a gap in the column of soldiers.

Just coincidence or intentional? Perhaps they merely hoped to scare my servants into relinquishing Abigail. Then again, the people of Longhurst have always exuded a strange air of entitlement and are prone to reckless action. I first sensed it in Longhurst, when the locals tried to kill me with hoes and sickles. That thoughtless attitude has ultimately led them to attack the military. Did they really think they could get away with something like that? Not that it matters, since a monster killed their man at the gorge.

On my way to the palace, I sent a messenger bird to General Whittington, informing him of Brianna’s plan. According to Abigail, the boss of the area, a monster called a python ape, had found the hidden human, killed him, and beat a hasty retreat. It may have left evidence of its killing, and while the soldiers may not be aware of the monster, they would certainly have heard something moving in the forest along the cliff, which would have alerted them to its location. Knowing the general, he’ll surely be able to find proof linking Brianna and her men to the rockfall incident.

I update Prince Dominic on the situation as well, leaving out the python ape. “The summoning blooms used by Longhurst’s eldest daughter must have been from the unmarked village, Brianna’s hometown. We found records alluding to that in the documents we brought back.”

“So that’s why they kept the village hidden. Same with the mirror birds. That means they could have staged a revolt at any time… Wait, how many people have they disposed of over the years to keep this a secret, do you think?”

“I reckon quite a number of locals are aware of their potential arsenal, including those from the village and the people from the city too.”

Though really, they couldn’t have been that close to revolution. Nothing indicated that they’d successfully tamed the mirror birds, and all they’d managed so far was to sneak the creatures’ eggs into places. And a single blunder with the summoning blooms could very well have caused the monsters to turn on them.

It didn’t make sense. They owned some of the most fertile land in the kingdom. Why would they risk it all by attempting an uprising? And now their crimes can be construed as treason.

“Your Highness.”

“Yes, yes, I know, sir. I’ll do my best to spare the lady. I don’t need you or the Drewetts as enemies, thank you. Not at all.”

“My wife was only ever involved in paperwork related to the management of fields and harvests. Since birth, she has had almost no contact with her family, much less the outside world.”

“I know, but this will blow up, and it’ll be out of my hands. But I can promise to remind Father that the lady has been part of the Noel household for over a year now. I’ve always been his favorite; that’s why he entrusted Longhurst to me in the first place, and look what’s happened… Whatever, just leave it to me.”

My own father, the marquis of Drewett, will also pull some strings, so there’s a high chance Abigail will not be charged for Longhurst’s treachery and face execution.

“As for the incident with the troops, I have no say over what the military decides, but you’ll think of something, right, sir?”

That’s right. Longhurst’s offenses include the rockfall. Punishment is inevitable, regardless of the truth, because Abigail is Earl Longhurst’s daughter. I’m certain the general will do whatever he can to help her, yet we’ll definitely face some kind of penalty in the end.

“Of course. My preference is the port town of Orta in Drewett, though the tropical countries sound nice too.”

“You’re gonna ask for a demotion?!”

I’ll be fine. Abigail has always enjoyed village life, after all.

◆◆◆

AFTER my lord husband left to visit the fourth prince, I lay down on the couch in the parlor and fell asleep.

When I open my eyes again, I smell something warm and pleasant and feel myself rocking forward. My lord seems to have been about to pick me up.

“Oh, you’re awake. I was just going to bring you to bed.”

The sun is setting outside the window to the courtyard, the dying light reddening his black hair.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

“Yes, I’m home.” He kisses my eyelids, and I press my face into his chest. He chuckles as he lifts, then cradles me in his arms. “You must be tired. It’s almost dinner time, but do you want to nap a little longer?”

“No, I’m awake! I have to report everything that’s happened in your absence, my lord! But I want to stay like this!”

“Haha, as you wish.” He starts to walk, sometimes spinning us around as if we are dancing.

His arms are comfortable, like the rocking chair in Tabitha’s room. That’s fun to sit on, though I always tip over in excitement, so they didn’t buy one for my quarters. That’s fine, this is better.

“Welcome home, my lord.” For some reason, I feel like saying it again, and he humors me with a reply.

“I’m home.”

There’s so much to report. The game of falling stones the old gardener taught me, the books Miss Rickman showed me, and lots more! Oh!

“Oh no! The souvenir! Where is it?!” I had it when I fell asleep. I was holding it tight with both hands! But it’s gone! I panic, but my lord husband simply pivots and strides back toward the couch.

“There it is. Have you not opened it yet?”

Oh, there it is, on the coffee table. Of course I haven’t opened it; I want to share it with him.

We eat dinner together. Thick and juicy roast beef that’s so tender, smooth mashed potatoes, lumpy baked beans, and sweet onion soup. Everything is delicious.

I have so much to tell him that I take longer than usual to finish my food. He is in a good mood the whole meal though, so he doesn’t appear to mind.

And I think I can eat slightly more now, I realize.

For dessert is his souvenir.

“It smells so delicious!”

We have retired to the sofa when my lord husband opens the can with a pop. It smells sweet, though not like the sweetness of baked bread, and a little salty too. Inside the can are round, thin, palm-sized…cookies? I pick one up, and it sticks to my fingers a little.

“These are rice crackers, a traditional snack from one of our allies that participated in the joint exercise. It’s made from rice.”

“Rice! Like risotto rice? So we can eat rice as a meal or a snack…like how pancakes are made from wheat!”

When I first saw risotto, I thought it was a bunch of bugs. I had yummy bugs when I was the Monster King, and risotto is different. The tomato and milk and cheese flavors are all so scrumptious. So, no, risotto isn’t made of bugs. It’s rice.

“The people from that country speak of a golden-eyed monster that lives in the mountains, and they respect it as a sacred beast instead of a scary monster. If it does live in the mountains, I don’t think it was the Monster King but some other monster with golden eyes. That is, unless you traveled to the far side of the forest when you were Monster King?” he asks.

I remember telling my lord husband that the mountains didn’t exist yet back then. That’s why he’s concluded that the golden-eyed monster isn’t me. He’s probably right, although I do recall visiting that area too, maybe while enjoying a long stroll.

I relay that, and he nods.

“But nobody has ever called me a sacred beast before. The small human who shared his potatoes was the only one who ever talked to me, so he gave me my name. Anyway, ‘Monster King’ sounds more powerful than ‘sacred beast.’”

“…I see,” my lord husband says as he bites into a rice cracker. It crunches loudly. I guess bad manners are okay, so I’ll eat noisily too! Wait, it’s hard! Huh?! Why is it hard?! Why won’t it crunch?!

“O-Oh, here.” He breaks my cracker into bite-size pieces.

I try again—it’s so crunchy! I’ve never tasted the salty and sweet flavor before, and the hard texture is yummy and fun!

“Is it tasty?”

“Yes!”

He places the rest of the pieces on a plate, and I eat another. They’re as addictive as salmon jerky.

“Oh, by the way, remember I said I made a detour to run an errand for Prince Dominic on my way home? I ended up somewhere close to the Monster King’s forest.”

My mouth is full, so I just nod.

He had already separated from the troops and was on his way back to the capital when the rockfall occurred. Evidently Ethan and the others knew as much, albeit nothing more specific, because he’d planned on returning early as a surprise. In hindsight—and after a small lecture from Tabitha—he acknowledged that he shouldn’t have kept that a secret.

The whole cracker is impossible to bite into, so why is it easier to chew when it’s broken up?

“The dragon came and gave me this. I think it must have wanted to give this to you, Abby.” He pulls a plain handkerchief from his pocket and unwraps an angular stone, translucent and green in color. It looks like an emerald ore.

“Don’t worry,” he says after a beat, “the handkerchief you made for me is here. I didn’t want to soil it.” He tugs at his breast pocket and I glimpse the handkerchief I embroidered tucked inside. It’s folded in a neat square, the Monster King’s legs splaying nicely.

“But handkerchiefs are to be used.”

“This one is precious, so it’s different.”

I guess it can’t be helped. I swallow the rest of the rice cracker. Delicious.

“So, what do you want to do with this? Maybe get it polished and shaped into an ornament?”

“The dragon gave it to you, my lord, so it’s yours. Besides, I’ve never been friends with the dragon.”

“What? I mean, I thought the dragon really liked you, Abby.”

“No, it never let me touch anything. It always grabbed its stones and ran away from me, then turned around just to show them to me again. I thought it was a bully.”

My lord husband smiles wryly. “O-Oh. I see. Maybe it wanted your attention… Abby?” Abruptly, he pauses, peering closely at me.

What is it? I eat another piece of rice cracker and feed one to him as well.

He rolls it around in his mouth, the sparkling blue of his eyes shifting unpredictably. “…Maybe?” he mumbles, so softly that I’m not certain he’s talking to me.

The cracker is tasty yet makes my tongue and the insides of my cheeks tingle. I want to eat more, so I remain quiet.

“Anyway, I thought it’d be a good idea to bring you to meet the dragon sometime.” Moving me onto his lap, he hugs me and rubs his face against the top of my head. “Remember you said that humans can’t live in the forest? You told me I can’t live there, and that’s why you don’t either.”

I nod. Yes, I did say that, on our way home from Drewett the year before. My lord husband has already finished his rice cracker. How quick.

“I understand that logic, but humans have done horrible things to you, ever since you were the Monster King. If I were you, I’d want nothing to do with humans. Maybe I’d even grow to hate them. But you, I don’t understand you. You still want to stay with me.”

I don’t understand why he doesn’t understand. “Becush my lurd ish kind,” I explain around the rice cracker in my mouth, trying not to drool. That would be bad manners.

His arms tighten around me slightly, the sensation like an enveloping blanket. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze too.

He sighs. “I don’t know. Brianna and her men have been arrested, and those in Longhurst who used to bother you may soon suffer the same fate, yet I just feel it’s not enough… You like forests, right, Abby? We’ll go where you want to go. Anywhere in the world you wish, I’ll take you there, on the condition that we go together.”

He sounds worried—but about what? I’m his wife; of course I’ll stay with him.

“It’s embarrassing to admit this, but I’ve always feared that you’ll go back to the forest one day. That’s why when I thought the dragon wanted to see you, I figured you would want to see it too. And I didn’t want that to happen. I’m not as kind as you think.

“I’m so pathetic,” he mutters with a quiet snort.

I swallow my rice cracker. “That’s because I’m important to you, my lord.”

“Hmm?”

“Like how you try to keep the handkerchief clean! You’re just like Little Piyo!”

“L-Little Piyo…?”

“Little Piyo is a rust beryl thrush. They keep the things they like close to them, so nobody can take those things away.”

“I’m like that…? I-I guess so.” He doesn’t seem totally convinced, but Rodney once said the same.

And yes. The dragon.

While my lord husband was on assignment, I chatted with the bosses in his vicinity. The dragon lives in a different direction, so I didn’t bother to contact it. Before then, I rarely talked to monsters because only the smart ones know how to reply. And dragons are bullies.

Monsters used to try to communicate with the Monster King too. Sometimes, on a whim, I’d respond, “Yes, I’m here.”

When I first became Abigail, I struggled to sense them, though eventually I could locate them with ease again. I’ve spoken to quite a few of the bosses, so perhaps I’ll try asking the dragon, since my lord husband is so concerned.

“…Yes. It wants you to have the stone, my lord.”

“Huh? Did you just speak to it?”

“Yes. It says the ore is a thank-you gift, since you gave it acorns.”

“That’s very…generous?!”

“You made it happy, so happy it danced. It really likes acorns.”

“O-Oh, yes, I see… It’s not very straightforward, is it…”

Is he still worried? I shift so that I’m kneeling between his thighs and looking down at him. The light from the lantern above makes his eyes shine and shimmer. I really love this blue.

“My lord.”

“Yes?”

“I can sense everything that happens in forests and mountains as long as there aren’t any humans in the way.”

“…Yes.”

“That’s why I don’t need to go back. But if you want to go, I can take you there. I’m strong, so you don’t have to worry.”

His mouth drops open. “That’s what you’re thinking?” He begins to laugh. After a while, he buries his face in my neck, still chuckling.

I pat his back. “Do you feel better?”

Smiling, he kisses me. “Yes. It’d be ungentlemanly of me to doubt your strength,” he whispers against my lips.

He tastes sweet and salty, so delicious.

🎂🎂🎂

A short carriage ride away from the capital, a lake lies at the foot of a small mountain. It’s larger than a pond or spring, and a narrow river flows from it through the capital. The lake is on the other side of the palace, so I hadn’t known it existed.

My lord husband was busy for a time after the assignment and has finally secured a day off. So there we are. Because it’s summer!

The sun is already beating stronger and hotter compared to when we left home that morning, so the breeze across the lake feels nice and cool as we alight from the carriage. With the mountains in the background, the lake reflects the surrounding forest and shines an emerald green. A small waterfall hides between two trees on the opposite bank.

“This area supplies water to the capital and is managed by the government, so most people can’t come here. I got special permission for today, so let’s enj— Wait, wait, wait.” My lord husband grabs the hem of my dress just as I try to lift it over my head.

Underneath is a swimsuit he bought for me. It resembles a fitted dress and leggings and feels like a complete outfit, so I don’t understand why I have to wear another layer over it. Tabitha told me to keep the top dress on until we reach the lake, and I did. Why can’t I take it off?

My lord husband hastily yells an instruction, and the guards move a slight distance away. Tabitha and Rodney both sigh before beginning to unload our things from the carriage.

“A-All right. It’s fine now.”

“Yes!” I kneel, slipping out of the dress.

“Huh?!” He’s still gripping its hem as I start to remove my shoes, my bare feet sinking into the rough sand. The sand here squeaks!

“It squeaks, my lord!”

“Huh, what? You’re too fast!” He lowers my dress as I dash ahead. The sand squeaks more as I run toward the water.

Wow! The middle of the lake looks so blue, yet when I step in, I realize the water’s clear. So cold! And the sand doesn’t squeak underwater! My feet feel heavy as I push through the rippling shallows.

Wearing a short-sleeved shirt and knee-length pants, my lord husband finally catches up to me and lifts me by the waist. “The lake is dangerous, with lots of hidden deep areas, so don’t let go of my hand.”

We splash forward together, the water gradually reaching his waist and all the way to under my chest.

When I was the Monster King, I was much bigger than my lord husband. And I had more legs. As Abigail, I have only the soles of my feet against the lakebed. When waves pushed against me in the past, I stood steadier, more of my body in contact with the bottom. Or maybe the Monster King was simply stronger. For it, walking in water was no different from walking on land.

But Abigail’s body feels light amid the heavy water, which is a strange sensation. “My lord! I can float if I jump!”

He laughs. “This section looks fi— Huh?!”

I jump, and suddenly, all I can see is water.

The view reminds me of the bottom of the spring in the forest, the sunlight forming a web above me as fish and crabs flit by, everything in translucent shades of blue and aquamarine. I loved admiring such scenery on my walks.

The lake is just like that. Dazzling sunlight softens in the water. Oh, here’s a tiny crab too.

The only difference is that I can’t feel the ground. My bare feet extend in front of me and I can’t touch the lakebed. Before I can figure out what’s happening, someone grabs my sides and yanks me upward. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and come face-to-face with my lord husband.

“Abby! Did you inhale water?!” He appears shaken.

“My lord! I floated!”

“No, you sank?!”

But my feet weren’t touching the ground?

🎂🎂🎂

AT last, after repeatedly reminding me not to move from my spot, he shows me how to swim. He paddles toward the center of the lake, lifting one cheek out of the water at the same time he raises an arm. On his return, he demonstrates another style where his face remains above the surface.

I think I’ve learned the strokes well enough, yet he insists that I practice kicking and holds my arms as he walks backward. It’s fun!

“You okay…?”

“I’m”—I gasp—“floating!”

“Erm, yes. Because we’re in deeper water. Don’t let go…” He still looks skeptical.

“My lady!” call Tabitha and Rodney from shore.

I latch onto my lord husband and turn to look. Rodney is pulling a long string from a bucket. He grips both ends, then swings…

“My lord! That’s—! Look! So big! So many!”

The string forms several loops as it sails through the air, creating lots of big and small bubbles! All drifting upward! Wow!

Tabitha waves with a smile. The guards arrayed along the shoreline are all laughing and clapping too.

“Hurry! Hurry, my lord!”

“Leave it to me!” He grasps my upper arms and laughs as he heads back to shore, my feet brushing the lakebed.

The wind shifts, bringing the bubbles toward us. They’re so delicate and sparkly.

The sky is blue, the lake green, and the splashes of water glimmer with light.

I glance up to see my lord husband grinning at me, and his kind smile shines brighter than the sky or lake. I can’t look away.

This must be beauty.I love this!

Side Story: Ethan Will Always Be Ethan, Tabitha Will Always Be Tabitha

Side Story: Ethan Will Always Be Ethan, Tabitha Will Always Be Tabitha

FIVE days have passed since Master left on assignment.

“Ethan! I’m ready for my chance today!”

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Oh, good morning! I’m ready for— Oh, a letter! From Lord Samuel!”

The letter was supposed to be her chance for the day, the exercise to figure out where I produced it from, but the lady seems more interested in Lord Samuel’s response. She’s often distracted thus, perhaps two attempts out of every three.

She turns the envelope over, pokes at a sharp corner with a finger, then runs off with it held carefully in both hands. Probably to show it to Tabitha.

A pleasant and peaceful start to the day.

🎂🎂🎂

THE nature of Gifts is still poorly understood. Sometimes they manifest in a lone member of a family with no history of such powers; sometimes several individuals in a bloodline are blessed with similar abilities. Some Gifts enhance the user’s attack or recovery magic, while others have naught to do with magic at all.

Of course, most Gifts are easy to spot, especially when the user has opportunity and desire to show it off.

I’ve heard of many, and the strangest is that of a man who always rolls a four when tossing a die. Since he can only ever land a four, the Gift is useless even for gambling. He himself doesn’t mention his Gift except as a joke.

🎂🎂🎂

THE night before the assignment, we perform the final checks on the security measures that will be in place while Master is away.

“…Is that skill of yours a Gift, Ethan?”

“I’m surprised you weren’t aware of it, Master Gerry.”

“Huh? Well, I’ve just been so used to it ever since I can remember… I thought it’s something every Kofi does…”

“You can’t be serious, Master!” teases Rodney until I elbow him. “Ow. Stop that, Father.”

“It was your responsibility to ensure he knew,” I chide.

“I never imagined he didn’t,” he counters.

I raised Rodney to be polite and respectful, and in such moments, I can see how close the two boys are. Master doesn’t seem to mind, but I must nonetheless constantly remind my son to behave in an appropriate manner, childhood friend or not.

That said, Master, talented and intelligent since youth, can still be somewhat naive.

“Have you ever wondered why the old master so easily accepted keeping the lady’s Gift hidden?” I ask.

“No, but come to think of it, it was easy.”

“My Gift manifests often in the Kofi family, and the marquis offers us protection in exchange for concealing our ability.”

“An exchange? Is that what it is?”

“Yes. It’s a simple Gift but can potentially be misused.”

“…I never thought of that!”

My master is a soldier trained in combat and has achieved numerous military feats…and he can really be naive sometimes.

Well, I guess he lets his guard down due to the deep bonds between us.

My Gift allows me to summon anything within a certain range as long as the object isn’t too big or heavy. No magic is involved, though the ability requires a good amount of training to be able to use it well. In addition, I must memorize the exact location of the object I wish to summon, down to the millimeter. There are other restrictions too: the object must be stationary, for example, and cannot be tied down.

My personal range extends throughout the interior of the mansion, which is perfect for my job as steward.

“I’ve never heard of this before… What about Rodney?” Master asks.

“Unfortunately, the Gift didn’t manifest in me.”

“But aren’t you able to summon things as well?!”

“Aside from Father, my uncle is the only other living Kofi who has this Gift. Even so, everyone in the family trains hard so it becomes impossible to tell who has the Gift and who doesn’t. I guess you could say it’s a secret passed down through the generations.”

To prevent evildoers from forcing us to summon weapons and drugs to unlawful places, my family agreed to serve the marquisate, establishing the Kofi line. We train to anticipate what our masters may need, to prepare as thoroughly as possible for any situation, and to summon items as naturally as we can.

Even those without the Gift can hone such skills. Rodney demonstrates by producing a piece of salmon jerky in an instant. To my conditioned eye, I can easily see that he merely retrieved the jerky from his sleeve, yet it must have seemed to appear out of nowhere to Master’s eyes. We don’t explain why Rodney has jerky ready; we all know.

“Amazing… That means you’ve trained so much that you’re on par with someone who has the Gift.”

“You really can’t be serious, Master.”

Drewetts like to bestow honest praise and reward for jobs well done, and he exclaims in awe in the same way his father, Lord Wallace, does. Both men are great at their roles—and occasionally a little naive.

“Anyway, yes. Ethan, I’ll be leaving the house to you.”

“Yes. I’ll protect it with my elderly life.”

“Please don’t. Abigail will be upset.”

On second thought, I suspect his concern for family may be stronger than the marquis’s. He fully understands that a servant’s vow to defend to the death is standard procedure, yet he issues the command with slight embarrassment and guilt.

They make such a charming couple.

🎂🎂🎂

AS the lady starts to lose her appetite, Tabitha and the head cook brainstorm ways to help her regain it.

She’s always eaten very little, though enough to stay healthy. We decide to try to improve the appearance of her meals as well as distribute nutritious food to the servants who like to give her snacks.

She’s also begun to sunbathe in the back garden every day, spending more and more time gazing up at the trees. She seems very lonely.

Noticing as much, the gardener gathers some items. He’s always liked to do things his way, even if they aren’t very typical of a gardener, like the time he built a snow mountain for sledding. That was surprisingly well received by the lady, so perhaps he’s thought of something she’ll enjoy.

She herself has not registered her decreasing appetite or frequent apathy. She simply seems to accept whatever is happening to her body. She still enjoys delicious food and fun activities, however, so the staff know to focus their efforts on those areas.

We must survive just one month. And when Master returns, she’ll surely recover all her energy to welcome him home.

🎂🎂🎂

SAFEGUARDED by the marquisate, the Kofis have served the Drewetts as butlers for generations.

Of course, the Gift does not manifest in every member of the family. Occasionally, outsiders who seek to profit from our Gift attempt to abduct us, and the marquis and his family have always protected us from such villains. We are therefore raised to believe that our Gift should be used in service to the Drewetts.

Most of the time, the Gift manifests in a single person per generation, yet by some miracle, both my older brother and I were so blessed. But we’re certainly not equal in ability: his range is far more extensive, covering half of the Drewetts’ grounds, and he is intelligent and skilled as well. As the eldest son, he was quickly awarded the responsibility of training the current marquis, Lord Wallace, whom he eventually began to serve as steward.

The marquis’s previous steward was not a Kofi, so my father was merely one of many butlers serving the Drewetts. Despite our Gift, we have only a short history of stewardship, maybe about ten years.

Although I’m also a steward, the management of the Drewett estate is substantially more difficult than that of the Noel household. And while I’m not envious of my brother’s talent, that doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle when I was younger. I used to wonder if I would’ve had an easier life if I didn’t possess the Gift. I took a while to find my place, joining the Drewetts’ private army, studying martial arts, even traveling on one of the marquis’s trade ships.

When I succeeded in those ventures, Lord Wallace, seven years younger than me, still free of the frown that’s typically etched into his features, always cheerfully encouraged me. “You’re amazing, Ethan,” he’d say, as though I wasn’t second best to my brother permanently at his side.

Then the old marquis fell ill, forcing Lord Wallace to inherit his role at twenty, not long after his marriage.

🎂🎂🎂

“IS that a message from Master?” a voice had inquired.

I paused. I’d been on my way to deliver instructions from Lord Wallace to the steward regarding an emergency inspection of a small village beset by a landslide.

The voice belonged to one of the maids Lady Katrina had brought with her when she married. Tabitha, I think her name is. “Is there something for the lady? A message or gift perhaps? …No? I see. I see.”

Since the current marquis’s wife had died some years before, the Lady Katrina became mistress of the household the moment she married into the family. Despite her young age of sixteen, she possessed all the dignity and grace of a high-ranking noble, and I could understand why the servants immediately deferred to her.

Yes, I suppose they are newlyweds, I remember thinking, though as far as I knew, my brother had always handled such sentimentalities in Lord Wallace’s stead…

“It’s an unplanned trip, and the village isn’t really a place that sells gifts fit for the lady,” I’d said in their defense.

“Oh, no. She isn’t the one asking, so please don’t misunderstand. I was just curious. Maybe it’s a little forward of me, but I assumed Master would have sent a message to his new bride despite his busy schedule.” With a gentle smile, the maid quickly slipped down the hallway.

Wow. That was scary.

🎂🎂🎂

INITIALLY, I was Lord Wallace’s servant, my brother my direct superior. I was therefore unaware of the goings-on of the female staff, especially those who served Lady Katrina. That’s the responsibility of the head housekeeper, who oversees all of the women employed, maids included.

“Oh, you know about the young mistress, right? Master doesn’t really dote on her.”

“Well, she’s still young, after all…”

One day, while passing through the servants’ hallway after an errand, I heard conspiratorial whispering. Are those the laundry maids? I turned toward the laundry, intending to warn the girls not to speak ill of the lady, then spotted two other maids standing outside the room, one of them glaring inside.

The glaring maid stalked rapidly toward the gossips. “What are your names?” she demanded.

“Huh, wh-what?”

“The ones who just spoke—you, you, and you. I’m asking your names,” the maid repeated in a steady but low voice.

Flustered, a laundry girl glanced at her fellow servants for help.

“Tabitha, don’t,” her companion cautioned, but she didn’t back down.

“Laundry maids answer to the head housekeeper. She must be informed of such behavior.”

“You’re full of yourself, aren’t you, despite being new. Go away,” huffed one of the senior laundry maids as she dismissed the other girls, and still Tabitha didn’t budge.

Drewett women are strong-willed. Many people say as much, probably because militarism is a huge part of the territory’s culture.

I’d never noticed it myself since I was born and raised in Drewett, but that wasn’t the case for outsiders. During my maritime travel, I learned that the topic interested others. In fact, I’d been surprised to hear that women from elsewhere, not even the commoners, did not routinely hunt and catch sparrows for dinner.

The previous marchioness was a true Drewett woman, and the senior maids under her management were just as stubborn. Many of them chose to stay after her passing, including the one facing Tabitha…

“Your mistress is being insulted and gossiped about, and you can’t even reprimand the girls who did it… I merely thought I’d take over and report them, since you seem too unassertive to do so.”

Indeed, Tabitha had gained command of the room. Placing a hand on her cheek and heaving a dramatic sigh, she said, “All right. Eri, Nelza, and Allie are their names, right? Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to report them.”

“H-How did you know their names?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I know every single maid who handles my lady’s linens.” She abruptly pulled out a handkerchief and folded it lengthwise into a long, thin strip, then lashed it through the air with a loud snap. I’d never known a tiny scrap of cloth could make such a sound.

The laundry maid stumbled back in alarm, and Tabitha countered with two steps forward.

“But more importantly”—the handkerchief cracked again—“I entrusted you with the management of my lady’s wardrobe because you’re senior staff, and yet—”

SNAP!

She took another step. “Look at all the dust on your dress. Haven’t you finished your chores for today?”

SNAP!

“What are you lazing around for? Oh, perhaps the dust is too fine for you to see?”

SNAP!

“Because you’re such high and mighty senior staff now, aren’t you?”

The laundry maid fled, eyes swimming with tears. Whoa. That was amazing!

Tabitha spun. “And you, Mr. Kofi. What are you doing here?”

I flinched at her voice. “I was going to warn the girls, but I guess there’s no need.”

“I see… I’ve always heard about the high quality of Drewett’s servants. What was that all about?”

Was that a look of accusation in her sharp gaze? Yes, it definitely was. But she’d addressed the situation so easily on her own… Not that I could have said that.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve also heard that our head housekeeper is getting on in years, and her health isn’t the best these days,” I answered instead.

“Yes, I’m aware. Is that why the servants are behaving like this? They’ll slack off without someone to manage them.”

Before his father collapsed, Lord Wallace had planned to ease into his new role as marquis. The selection of the next steward and head housekeeper was supposed to occur sometime later. Due to the old master’s abrupt death, however, the plan accelerated, resulting in the standoff in the laundry room.

But Tabitha was right. The female servants in particular had been underperforming. Without a head housekeeper to keep them in check, they were growing collectively lazy.

“If I may?” I hazarded.

“Yes?”

“Norlene, Hazel, and Edith are all suitable candidates for head housekeeper. They have the right skills and attitude. In fact, they already do many of the tasks usually done by the head.”

“…I see. If you had to choose one of them?”

“The lady should pick the one most suitable to serve her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when suggesting this to her, but…” She glanced in the direction of her mistress’s suite, then turned back to me, chin held high. “Know that Lady Katrina is just biding her time. It won’t be long before she takes charge of the household.”

Her hazel eyes were proud, strong, and bright.

🎂🎂🎂

AFTER that incident, I found my own eyes drifting to Tabitha more often. We spoke frequently to each other under the pretense of exchanging information, and once or twice I even volunteered to help carry her bags.

Two years passed as we inched beyond our relationship as colleagues.

One day, on an errand for the lady, we delivered a letter to the wife of a merchant who is a long-time friend of the Drewetts. Afterward, we strolled the city plaza and browsed the stalls, an activity we’d started to do together only recently.

I checked my inner pocket to make sure the item was still there. I’d lost count of how many times I’d done so since leaving the manor.

“…Honestly, Master was just standing there doing nothing!” complained Tabitha, concluding her rant. One look at her face and I can tell she’s itching to call him a coward.

“You say that…but Lord Wallace hasn’t had any downtime for years. He may be capable, but he’s busy with so much.”

That was true. Even then, some distant relatives still disdained him for his youth, so his position and reputation weren’t secure.

And despite the birth of his heir, Lord Stuart, the master and mistress continued to lead separate lives.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m asking if it’s true that he picked a bouquet, loitered outside the lady’s room, and then couldn’t find the courage to knock in the end?”

“I guess it is.”

“What was he thinking?! They have a child together!” she fumed. “How did things get so complicated?”

Seems my perfect older brother is just as ignorant about romance as his master. Otherwise, he would have resolved the issue long before then.

“Is that how all the maids feel?”

“…It’s a political marriage, after all. The lady accepted that long ago. She’s always had a strong sense of duty and pride since she was a girl.”

“As rude as it is to admit, I guess they are similar in that sense.”

“But it’s frustrating!” She pressed her shoulders back in indignation, though her steps remained relaxed. Her handbag, a gift from the lady, hung on her arm…

A man dashed past, tugging the bag off her. I scrambled to catch her before she fell, and she shoved me away as she began to chase the thief.

“My bag!”

Slow! How are you moving so slowly?! What had happened to those impressive stalking skills of hers?! Is she unable to run? Is she serious?!

Fortunately, nobody was around to see.

Holding back laughter, I easily outstripped Tabitha. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a rope coil near a stall. Although I usually need to know the exact location of an object to summon it, the rule doesn’t apply if it’s visible to me.

I quickly knotted the rope in a loop. Tracking and hunting are popular pastimes among servants. Hurling the lasso forward, I watched it sail over the thief’s head and stop him short.

“Hold tight,” I told Tabitha. She’d caught up with me, and I handed her my end of the rope before sweeping the thief’s feet out from under him.

The handbag flew out of his grip and landed safely in my hand.

After leaving the man with the guards, we hurried back to Drewett Manor… My plan to take her atop the ramparts to enjoy the view had been dashed. I tried to hide the slump in my shoulders on our way home, yet Tabitha must have sensed my disappointment.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said, sidling closer, “if I time it right, I can apply to be nursemaid for the lady’s next child. But I’ll have to time it just right.”

“Huh?! Time what with who?!” I squawked.

Her eyes widened, then she burst into laughter. “I wouldn’t mind it with you, Ethan.”

“Thank you!” Using my Gift, I grabbed the hairpin, gold with a champagne-colored topaz flower bud, from its case in my inner pocket and held it out to her on my palm.

“Oh my. Your Gift sure is wonderful.” Her eyes crinkled as she accepted the hairpin carefully, yet I could sense that she wanted to call me a coward too.

🎂🎂🎂

“MY lord and his men will be fine. Ethan, please capture these humans.” Straight-backed, the lady issued the command in a flat voice, all traces of the childish little girl gone. She looked like a goddess bearing tidings of disaster.

All was chaos as we arrested the criminals from Longhurst. Until finally, I can relax and rest.

Tabitha has already retired to bed, and I check her wound again, sighing in relief. The red gash on her shoulder appears very shallow.

“I told you: it’s just a scratch.”

“Even so, what husband doesn’t panic at the sight of his wife getting hurt?” My tone is bitter, the relief accompanied by a little anger.

She merely smiles. “You can’t be angry when I didn’t scold you for promising Master to protect the house with your life,” she says, teasing.

“…You heard me? But—” This is different, I want to say.

“Ethan, don’t you think the lady was beautiful in that moment?”

“That’s true.” I had never seen her act that way, because I usually stay behind to manage the household.

“So please tell her she did well rather than chastise her.” Tabitha’s hazel eyes are as proud, strong, and bright as ever.

And since that was what made me fall for her in the first place, I don’t argue.

🎂🎂🎂

WITH Master’s return, the lady’s appetite quickly increases again.

“Ethan! I’m ready for my chance today!” She has been energetic all morning, crowing something about going to a lake as she bounces toward me.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Oh, good morning! I’m ready for my— Oh! A rice cracker!”

“You need to have breakfast first, so this is for the carriage ride.”

“Yes! Thank you!”

We’ve transferred Master’s souvenir to a smaller can and decided to allow the lady one cracker per day.

Crunching it a little between her fingers, she scampers away to show it to him.

I sense Tabitha giving me a sidelong glance, the look a silent question: “Why don’t you just come clean about your Gift already?”

You have no right to judge me! Because I love watching the lady dash to me in excitement every morning, of course!

Side Story: A Tale from Long, Long Ago

Side Story: A Tale from Long, Long Ago

THIS is a tale from long, long ago, about a little boy from a small village.

One day, the boy and his cat companion, Furball, went into the forest near the village and found a shiny mushroom.

It was a beautiful mushroom. “It must be delicious,” thought the boy, and he opened his mouth wide to eat it.

“No, no!” a high voice cried. “The mushroom is my pillow! No!” A bronze grasshopper zoomed toward them, slamming its hard head against the shiny mushroom. It bounced off the cap with a boing! and was sent flying into the distance.

The mushroom puffed spores into the air, and the boy couldn’t stop sneezing…

🎂🎂🎂

“…E-ERM, m-my lady. Sh-Sh-Should I continue?”

“Yes, Miss Rickman! What happened to the boy next?!” begs Viscountess Noel, her impassive face at odds with the shine in her golden eyes.

Really? She likes the story? About a sneezing boy?

Although my father is a baron, my family owns no territory or assets. We aren’t poor but aren’t rich either, at least not rich enough to own luxuries like children’s books. So, as a child, I invented random stories to tell my baby brother to get him to nap. I may struggle with conversation, yet I have no trouble reciting poetry or tales.

When I mentioned the stories in passing during our tea party, I hadn’t imagined Viscountess Noel would become so invested. Her party was already a strange affair and included a trip to the garden behind the mansion to pick wild strawberries. Her insistence that I continue my rambling, plotless stories only makes the afternoon stranger.

🎂🎂🎂

I’M probably the lowest-ranked noblewoman in the kingdom. The second daughter, I have no dowry, though I hardly have the looks to wear jewelry regardless. My magical prowess is mediocre considering my position, and I lack the social skill to build connections within high society. Most people who meet me dismiss me within five seconds, deciding that I am below their station—a fact they rarely bother to hide!

I could easily list at least ten reasons why I’m undesirable.

But I have my mind.

When I enrolled in magic school at the age of thirteen, I focused on my studies since I wouldn’t find friends anyway. I knew I was good with numbers and memorization, so I aimed to become an aide or researcher at the royal palace. I was always the highest scorer in all our exams yet never the top student overall due to my inability to excel in other, more practical, areas.

At fifteen, when we are officially recognized as adults, His Highness Prince Dominic, two years my junior, approached me in a school hallway.

“You’re Baron Rickman’s daughter—the youngest person to ace the civil service exam in history, right? Have you decided which department you’d like to join yet?”

I hadn’t spoken to anyone for a long time. Well, except for Wendy, whom I’d known since we were young girls. But she doesn’t count because conversations with her are always a monologue. And suddenly, one of the untouchables was talking to me! The super popular, handsome, and kind prince whose reputation even I, a friendless loner, was aware of! Right there, without warning! How can it be?! I recall thinking.

He raised a graceful hand before I could perform an awkward bow, his smile too charming for his age.

“I-I-I’m the top scorer? I-I-I didn’t know, I j-just thought I passed.”

“Whoa! And the examiner wasn’t sure of your interests either! I guess word really doesn’t get around, huh!”

I knew high-ranking nobles love to speak in subtleties. How should I reply?! Should I laugh? Can I laugh?! Is he really thirteen?! Seriously?!

“Listen, if you’re afraid you’ll have trouble working in the palace…I mean, you probably will.”

“Y-Y-Your Highness really doesn’t mince w-words! B-B-But I know, and I-I-I’m prepared to face it.” I will never escape human interaction no matter where I go, which is why I was determined to work where I could at least be competent. In retrospect, perhaps that’s why I’ve always felt slightly cornered.

I mean, I’d done well enough on the exam, but as Prince Dominic said, the examiner was visibly nonplussed during the interview.

“I see. Well, do your best for the next two years until I come of age. When I receive my official duties, I’ll scout you as my personal aide!”

“Wha-Wha-What?”

“Your mind is incredibly quick, Miss Rickman. You’re thinking of many things all at once. That’s why words don’t come easy for you, why you end up saying the wrong things. Everyone has a place that’s right for them though, and you’ll be wasted on a boss who doesn’t understand you. But I think you’ll do well working for me!”

He’s an angel!

All my efforts to persevere amid unveiled, malicious gossip had come to fruition! And to think he’s only thirteen?! Seriously?!

“Th-Th-Thank I’ll work h-h-ha—”

“I’m the fourth prince, you know? I’m looking for capable people, but people who are too capable take offense too easily. So those who are capable but somewhat flawed are perfect for me!”

Flawed?What happened to subtlety?“Kind and super popular”?! You’d think that means he’d make a good boss, but he may turn out to be the worst!

Exactly two years later, he selected me just as he’d declared he would.

🎂🎂🎂

I’VE been working for Prince Dominic ever since and have found that his aides are more or less similar to myself. We’re all very capable—and flawed.

“Rickman, you know Lord Gerald, don’t you? Drewett’s second son, the Bloody Major.”

“Y-Y-Yes. H-H-His w-w-wife is the second eldest d-d-daughter of Longhurst.”

The prince’s tasks for me are always unexpected and strange, yet after two years, I’d concluded that he is an incredibly good boss. Even when he buries me with a mountain of unintelligible, moth-eaten documents from Longhurst.

“I want all points of uncertainty and doubt to be investigated and corrected. Viscountess Noel will help you.”

“I-I-I see. I can—”

“You’ll be working at Lord Gerald’s office tomorrow, so have all your questions ready by then!”

“T-T-Tomorrow?!”

Why? Why?!

I’d heard of Viscount Noel. I’d seen him from afar when we were both enrolled in magic school, the last time about six years previous. And that was all. We never met face-to-face. Like Prince Dominic, he was one of the untouchables.

Whenever I spotted him, Wendy was usually nearby. Or rather, whenever I turned at the sound of her yelling, Viscount Noel happened to be there too.

His blue gaze was always frighteningly cold. It glittered with so much magical prowess that my legs trembled. That he dislikes her is obvious, right? Is she going to be all right? I wondered. Their relationship was none of my business but worried me nonetheless.

He was beautiful, so much so that the girls acted crazed. His slender yet well-proportioned body drew the eye, though he always appeared grumpy with a deep frown on his face. The frown deepened when he had to talk to girls, especially Wendy, and only grew worse over the years, or so I thought.

🎂🎂🎂

“THIS is Viscount Noel’s wife, Abigail Noel. Hope you can work well together.” Finally, the prince introduced me to her alongside his closest aide, McGregor.

She’s so tiny! was my first thought. Her head is small, and with her slim frame, she looks so petite. She has lustrous, vibrant red hair; childlike but pretty features; and golden eyes that shine like a bonfire at midnight. She resembles an expensive doll with an enigmatic smile.

Prince Dominic had regaled us with stories of how his stubborn senior dotes on her, telling them so often that everyone in our office knows about it. Seeing her beauty, I could understand why he does.

And that wasn’t all.

Whoa! The permanent scowl on the viscount’s face vanished the instant his young wife looked up at him! Whoaaa, who is this man? He looks so foreign! Who is he?! That’s scary!

As much as the transformation in Viscount Noel shocked me, nothing was more surprising than the lady’s absolute genius. I’ve always prided myself on my sharp mind, yet her intelligence is so staggering that I went past envy and straight into awe.

The records of Longhurst’s management, spanning over a decade, were in extreme disarray and rife with incomprehensible lists of numbers. And she managed to smoothly piece them all together, bit by bit, teasing out information. Commodity types, regional production data, annual fluctuations therein, results of policy implementation, and more.

The only thing she doesn’t understand is why we can’t do the same.

“Th-Th-This village sent a shipment of t-tomatoes to the capital in this particular year, b-b-but the price seems too high for tomatoes. Is there an e-error?”

“They wrote it wrong. It was strawberries, not tomatoes. Oh, they did the figures wrong too.” Without even a glance at the other documents, the lady corrected the sums with a confident hand.

Puzzled at first, I referenced related material and redid the calculations. The lady was right. Such exchanges happened again and again, and I soon grew accustomed to them, simply accepting her revisions without question.

But one thing niggled at me. The price still seemed too high for strawberries. “M-M-Maybe they’re apricot strawberries,” I hazarded. “Th-Th-That would make sense. Those are d-delicious, right? A-And rare too.”

The species is unique to Longhurst and often used as an offering. That someone from the capital had purchased apricot strawberries instead of a bunch of tomatoes was more plausible. I’d tried one once. His Highness gave it to me. I ate just one and will never forget that sweetness, that rich fragrance and fresh crispy texture.

“Apricot strawberries…?” The lady tilted her head in confusion and blinked. “I’ve never had those before. The ones in this ledger are dew strawberries. Do you like those, Miss Rickman?”

“Yes, s-s-strawberries are my f-favori— Wait, I-I-I’ve never had those before. Huh? D-Dew strawberries? Y-You mean, the ones with the thorns?”

Dew strawberries grow on wild, sharp-spiked bushes, and despite their name, the tiny, thumbnail-sized fruits are nothing like strawberries. And they’re certainly not a crop anybody wants to grow.

Dew strawberries? Selling for that price? Ridiculous.

“Fox bees live near this village and… Oh!” She abruptly turned to Viscount Noel as if asking his approval.

Fox bees are ferocious insect monsters said to live near water sources deep in the mountains. I’d never heard of them building nests close to human settlements, and even if they did, they’d be exterminated immediately.

“Fox bees?” I asked, and the lady twisted back to me, golden eyes sparkling. Oh, she’s cute.

“Do you know of them, Miss Rickman?! Fox bees love the pollen from dew strawberry flowers! That’s why they live peacefully there!” The bees remain docile and don’t attack the village, she explained, because of its proximity to the dew strawberries. And the more abundant the plants, the more dedicated the bees become in harvesting them, resulting in bigger and sweeter fruit.

How does she know all this?! Had the village passed off dew strawberries as apricot strawberries on the market?! They weren’t the typical dew strawberries, I supposed, yet wasn’t that still questionable?!

The lady is a genius to have realized the connection. I’m glad I didn’t tell her I’m considered intelligent; that would have been so embarrassing.

She’s smart and cute, and although their marriage was arranged, the popular Viscount Noel adores her. She lives in a totally different world from me, so I know I shouldn’t compare myself to her. That said, I can’t help but think it’s a waste that she doesn’t have more avenues to showcase her talents.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from commenting as much, maybe because I’m envious after all.

🎂🎂🎂

PRINCE Dominic had warned us not to speak to the lady about employment, and McGregor reprimanded me for my loose tongue as we headed back after the meeting.

“His Highness told us that everything we discussed, and the lady herself, is to be kept secret,” he nagged. “I know she is much more capable than she appears; I can sense it myself despite this being our first meeting, but still… Besides, Viscount Noel is scary, so don’t do that again.”

He was right. Viscount Noel was frightening! I’d feared that his glare would stab right through me! Even more terrifying was the fact that I hadn’t noticed it right away!

The lady herself hadn’t minded though. In fact, she didn’t seem to understand the need for my apology, yet accepted it nevertheless.

And stranger still, I received an invitation to tea on our last day working together.

I hadn’t been invited to a tea party in years.

The elegant peach envelope was trimmed in gold and embossed with a chick carrying a bluestarflower. It wasn’t the Noel family crest, so I guessed it was the lady’s own. Peering closer, I saw that a round black blob had been drawn on a corner of the envelope. In crayon?

The lady must have noticed my staring, because she studied me with expectant eyes.

Okay! I must get this right! What’s this?! Black, with legs? Lots of legs… Fourteen legs.

“…A roly-poly?”

“Yes! Because Miss Rickman likes insects!”

Do I?! I guess I like animals?!

🎂🎂🎂

THIS is a tale from long, long ago, about a little boy from a small village.

One day, the boy and his cat companion, Furball, went into the forest near the village and found a horned rabbit stuck in a tree as big as the boy’s house. The horns on its head were buried high up on the tree trunk, as deep as they could go.

Looking at the rabbit’s twisting round bottom and tail, the boy said, “I’ll free you, but you must give me your cute tail.”

“I’m stuck because I want to be! I won’t give you my cute tail!” The horned rabbit started to thrash, its two front legs and four hind legs flailing and scattering pure-white fur into the air.

The boy couldn’t stop sneezing. He toppled with another sneeze, rolling—boing, boing—into the deep forest.

Furball gave chase.

He rolled all the way to a spring far below, where boy and cat each fell in…

🎂🎂🎂

“WHAT happened to the sneezing boy?!”

The lady has been writing down my stories so Tabitha can read them to her at bedtime. She’s still very interested in the boy’s sneezing.

I remember many of the stories I used to tell my baby brother, and they’re all short with abrupt endings. The lady writes each one on a separate sheet of paper and has accumulated a pile of about ten pages.

“Th-Th-The sneezing boy? Th-That’s right. There’s no f-fur in the spring, so…”

“Did he stop sneezing?!”

“I-I-I guess so?”

The lady nods in approval, then writes “He probably stopped sneezing” on a corner of the paper.

Does she really need to though? Someone as good with accounts and numbers as her can surely rely on just her memory.

“The pastries will be ready soon, my lady.” Mrs. Kofi, who has been sitting nearby and smiling the whole time, prompts a break. Although the viscountess looks ready to continue our storytelling session, the table is cleared of paper.

Mrs. Kofi is exceedingly considerate. She refills our teacups and adjusts the parasol to keep us in the shade as the sun moves across the sky. I’ve learned that she was also Viscount Noel’s nursemaid. Drewett truly hires the most amazing servants.

The pastries are presented in an endless parade, many of them featuring the wild strawberries the lady and I picked in the garden earlier. Tarts, pound cake, cheesecake, jelly, mousse, everything bite-size and cute.

Perhaps that was why Mrs. Kofi prevented the lady from eating the berries outright, so the chef could use them… Wait. No noblewoman would eat strawberries straight from the garden without ensuring they were thoroughly cleaned first. Of course Mrs. Kofi stopped her. The viscountess must have acted instinctively…

“Miss Rickman is amazing. You can think up so many stories.”

“O-O-Oh, th-they were just distractions for my b-brother.”

“My lady reads a lot, but she’s never been interested in fiction,” shares Mrs. Kofi. “She really likes your stories, Miss Rickman. I enjoy listening to them too. They’re just so magical and fun.”

How kind… So very different from the thoughtless maids at home!

“The strawberries are tasty, Miss Rickman. Can I tell your stories to Lord Samuel too?”

“O-O-Of course! A-And yes, the strawberries are good.”

Who’s Lord Samuel?!Also…these are wild strawberries, right? They’re somewhat large and taste exactly like the high-quality and expensive variety grown on farms, a perfect balance of sweet and sour flavors.

Mrs. Kofi smiles. “What a good idea. Lord Samuel is Master’s nephew; he’ll be happy to hear these. Perhaps he’ll enjoy naptime as much as Miss Rickman’s brother did.”

Wait, Lord Samuel is the youngest heir of the Drewett marquisate?! I’m honored, but…!

“I-I-Is that all right? I m-mean, I-I’m happy and I don’t mind, b-but who knows i-i-if he’ll enjoy it?” While my baby brother appreciated my stories, I also remember Wendy’s criticism: I should have made the boy a powerful character. He should go on epic adventures.

I tried to tell her that the boy was supposed to represent my brother, and if he was happy, that was all that mattered. But she insisted that he would prefer more action-packed narratives.

“W-Wendy says that the b-boy is the protagonist, s-s-so he has to be more extraordinary,” I explain to the lady as she ponders which pastry to eat next.

I mean, that’s true for most fiction, so I guess she has a point.

I tell the lady the jelly is delicious, and she nods briskly before asking a maid to serve it. Why does she suddenly look so serious?

“Wendy has always liked things that are special,” she says.

Always? How long has she known Wendy? But she’s right.

“She m-m-may be like that now, but she w-w-was nicer in the past, I think. Q-Quite different from now.” She was more carefree as a child perhaps, though she has always been blasé about what other people have to say.

To me, especially. Nobody has ever been interested in my opinion, so she wasn’t special in that regard. She treated everyone the same, which meant she treated me the same way she treated every other student. So although we didn’t mesh well, she never stopped talking to me.

At the very least, she’d never pushed others aside or used them to achieve her own goals, and that was her greatest strength.

“I-I-I heard that she was rude to you, my lady. A-A-And though it may not be my place to say this, p-please forgive her.”

“Rude…? She wasn’t rude. Wendy was just being Wendy.”

“Huh?”

“The jelly was great! Next…” She glances at Mrs. Kofi for some reason and, after the housekeeper nods, announces, “I’d like the cheesecake!”

As she waits to be served, she takes a sip of tea and lets out a contented sigh. “Is telling stories your Gift, Miss Rickman?”

“Huh?! N-No, th-th-that can’t be a Gift. I-I-It’s not a useful skill at all.”

“…Useful?” She stares at me. Under long lashes, her golden eyes flicker like fire. “Gifts aren’t meant to be useful. I don’t know what different types there are, but I know each is something special that only one person possesses.”

That is one of many theories about them, the phenomenon still poorly understood. Besides, whether a Gift is useful or not is ultimately based on the biased judgment of humans.

Something special that only I possess.

“D-D-Do I really have that?” I ask the lady. She nods without hesitation, and I grow tingly and warm. “E-E-Erm! I-I-If you don’t mind, I-I-I can write down a-all the stories I remember! I-I-If you have any requests, I-I-I can think of new ones too!”

“Thank you! I’d like to hear one with a thunderbird!”

🎂🎂🎂

AFTER that, I write countless stories, all of which delight the lady. She begins to call me Agnes, and I call her Abby.

Many months later, Viscount Noel requests a story as well.

🎂🎂🎂

THIS is a story from long, long ago, about a little boy from a small village.

One day, the boy and his cat companion, Furball, went into the forest near the village and discovered a large, pitch-black monster with a multitude of eyes, arms, and legs.

It was the Monster King, bouncing and jumping around…

Afterword

Afterword

IT’S my first time riding on a steam train.

The train is pitch-black and big and heavy-looking. It appears very powerful too, but can only move forward or backward, so I don’t think it’s that powerful after all. The passenger compartment is relatively quiet and sways somewhat less than a carriage.

“Would you like some school-specialty treats?”

Before I can respond, the door opens to reveal an attendant pushing a cart stacked with colorful boxes and bags. There seems to be a variety, so I try to order a bunch as my stepmother would have, but my lord husband stops me. In the end, we each pick a different one so we can swap.

“Oh… Is that what you chose? Whoa!”

A black frog stretches its limbs languidly as I open my box. I attempt to bite its front leg, and… Oh! The frog leaps off my nose and out through the gap in the train window.

“O-Oh. Are you all right, Abby?”

“Tastes a bit like mud, but it’s mostly chocolate. Sorry for letting your half of the frog escape, my lord.”

“I-It’s fine. I don’t mind… Here, have my candied pineapple.”

Pineapple! I’ve never tried it before! It’s crunchy and sweet, so tasty!

Soon we deboard the steam train. We ride a small boat across a large lake toward a huge castle with numerous spiky towers.

“I heard it’s a magic school, but it’s a castle,” I say, awed.

“Yes. It does look like one.”

We’re in another country to tour a foreign magic school. It’s a different institution from the well-known one in our kingdom, and for some reason we received an invitation to visit.

We’re shown into a large room lined with benches that resembles the chapel where we held our wedding. Directly opposite us is an old, wrinkled hat. The tour guide announces the start of the enrollment ceremony.

My lord husband frowns. “What? We’re just on a tour.”

“Huh? That can’t be righ—” Hmm? The hat’s wrinkles sort of look like a face. It doesn’t have eyes, yet I can feel it watching me. Then…

“Come, you’re nex—”

“It spoke! The hat spoke!”

“Aaargh?!”

“Ah, Abby! Let go!”

The hat struggles in my grip, but I’m stronger! I got it! A talking hat! I’ll give it to Ethan as a souvenir!

◆◆◆

IN the next volume, Abby goes to magic school. Coming soon!

Or not. Don’t be disappointed.

Thank you for your continued patronage! This is Mameta! I’m glad to present the third volume of Dinners with My Darling. Thank you! Thanks to everyone who supported the series! We did it!

I hear the manga version is doing well in Japan too. I’m also looking forward to the series. Since I’m not allowed sneak peeks, I’m always surprised and yell “ABBY IS SO CUTE!” when I do eventually read a volume. The manga version is interesting, isn’t it? Toi Ishino-sensei is a god.

If you haven’t picked up the manga yet, please do! The second volume will be out on November 10th in Japan! And to everyone who picked up the novel after reading the manga version, thank you! And welcome!

Now, about this volume. I worked on it while continuing the series on the web novel site Shousetsuka ni Narou. I ended up penning a different ending for each version and revising the book at the same time. My initial plan was to finish the web series before revision, but…everything was delayed in the summer heat… I got confused while writing and have learned not to do multiple things at once.

In addition to the two side stories, I managed to write and edit about thirty thousand more words in the book version, though it took some tears. So that was good. I’m so glad…

The web series is ongoing as I write this afterword and is scheduled to end right as the third book is published in Japan. That’s how I’m planning to conclude everything.

If there’s a fourth volume, it’ll be a completely new plot. Can I do it? The thought makes me tremble. If only! Fellow writers, please feel free to feed me ideas. The snippet in this afterword was also an idea from someone. Thank you. Please send me more.

I’d like to express my gratitude to everyone who has loved Abigail, Gerald, and my merry crew of characters; my editor CutieU; Hanazome-sensei, who breathes magic into the adorable couple; Ishino-sensei, who churns out the manga at an amazing pace; and everyone involved in bringing the series to publication.

Praying to meet you all again. Have a nice day!