Kieran Redgewell

ere the sound was coming from with his eyes.

At that, Lutz headed to Benno’s office in the back of the store; he needed to inform him how much they had made from the harspiel concert.

“The money brought in from the concert totaled twelve large golds, eight small golds, and six large silvers. The overall profit exceeded ten large golds after subtracting various expenses.”

Lutz went through the totals that he and Rozemyne had calculated, and Benno’s eye twitched at the shockingly high numbers. Not even Lutz had expected her to earn so much. Rozemyne had asked him to print more before the concert, but he had been so certain they already had enough that he had deliberately slowed down production.

...I really didn’t expect all the stuff to sell out. Sometimes it’s good to be wrong, I guess.

“Sounds like we’ve gotta plan a second concert,” Benno said, wearing the confident grin of someone who was planning to make tons of money.

“There likely won’t be a second one; the High Priest found out about the illustrations being sold and got really mad at her,” Lutz explained. Benno’s subsequent agonized groan made him hesitant to explain that Rozemyne had only been found out because she printed the name of her workshop on the back. “I believe she was told to never sell merchandise like that ever again. Lady Rozemyne begged him to reconsider, even offering him a portion of the profits, but he said that he didn’t need the money and firmly refused.”

Ferdinand already had a stable source of income as a priest in the temple, he was compensated each time he helped the archduke or the Knight’s Order carry out their duties, and he was given money whenever he designed or sold a new magic tool. This was all in addition to the wealth that he had inherited from his deceased father. To Ferdinand, a portion of the illustrations’ profits was nothing; he had absolutely no need whatsoever to suffer for loose change.

“Nobles sure are something, huh? You can show them over ten large golds of profit and they’ll still call it loose change,” Benno said, clearly impressed. But Rozemyne was also a noble, and she had cursed all of the rich people in the world after hearing Ferdinand declare that.

Lutz wasn’t sure how to respond. “...But in any case, Master Benno—with this much money, we shouldn’t have any problems in Hasse, right? That’s what Lady Rozemyne was most concerned about.”

Ingo and his wife—the owners of the carpentry workshop that Rozemyne exclusively gave business to—were currently living in the monastery in Hasse, working day in and day out to ensure it was ready for the orphans. Lutz’s own father, Deid, would also be heading there soon, having been contacted by the Gilberta Company. Even with the craftsmen from Hasse helping them, Rozemyne, Benno, and Gustav didn’t have enough people in their respective workshops, so they were in the process of gathering as many external carpenters and builders as they could.

“It’s more than enough. With this money, we can get things ready a lot faster,” Benno said with a firm nod. “We just finished bringing daily necessities over to Hasse, so the craftsmen can live there while they work. There’s food, firewood, and the materials needed to make paper. Won’t be long before we can take some gray priests and shrine maidens there to make the place more livable. How are things on the temple’s end?”

Lutz took out and looked over his diptych, into which he had written the words “workers selected,” “training started,” “request,” “winter preparations,” “hide glue,” and “hair sticks.”

“The temple has finished selecting the gray priests and shrine maidens to go to Hasse, and is currently training them as chefs and workshop workers. They want us to let them know once we’ve settled on a date to take them. I also have a request from Lady Rozemyne—she would like to use a portion of the donations gathered from the concert for winter preparations, with the Gilberta Company helping to butcher meat and such like we did last year. Nobody lives near the monastery in Hasse, so she is considering making hide glue there.”

Having been given a request from a noble, Benno nodded with a grimace. “Well, our high and mighty noble friend has given us a huge load of money; might as well help the temple out with their winter prep.”

With the winter preparations matter sorted, Lutz somewhat hesitantly moved on to the next topic. “...Furthermore, Lady Rozemyne has said she would like to order more hair sticks, and she has requested that we keep bringing Tuuli to her chambers. Tuuli has not been fully educated in noble manners, but what do you think, Master Benno?”

It was Benno’s job to decide whether they could keep sending Tuuli to the archduke’s adopted daughter as a craftswoman of the Gilberta Company. Meeting a single time for a reunion was one thing, but regular visits would require much better behavior.

Benno frowned and didn’t answer, so Lutz pushed a little harder. “Lady Rozemyne has said that she strongly, strongly suggests we continue sending Tuuli there.”

“‘Strongly’? Is she saying that knowing a commoner can’t refuse a noble?” Benno asked with a grimace. But Lutz could empathize with how Rozemyne felt, so she had his full support this time.

“I believe that Lady Rozemyne doesn’t want to miss any opportunity that she might have to see her. The only time she gets to see her right now is when she’s receiving her hair sticks, and that only happens once a season at most. Hair stick orders made from her home in the castle or the Noble’s Quarter don’t count either, as Tuuli cannot go to these places for obvious reasons. Lady Rozemyne is aware of all of this.” She knew that her request was only feasible when she was in her orphanage director chambers. “Plus, Tuuli needs a place to practice her manners like how I do in the Rozemyne Workshop. She can’t practice at home, just like I can’t.”

Benno fell into thought for a bit, then looked up. “...Alright, we can take her with us. She definitely does need a place to practice. Tell Tuuli to consider this an opportunity for her to improve her manners, and that she shouldn’t open her mouth outside of the hidden room.”

Two days later, Lutz, Benno, and Tuuli went to the orphanage director’s chambers. Once Benno had given the standard noble greetings, Rozemyne ordered the three to step into her hidden room alongside Gil and Damuel. Her aura drastically softened the moment they were inside, and while she looked at Tuuli with eyes full of nostalgia, she didn’t call out her name. Tuuli remained silent as well; the magic contract forbade them from addressing each other as family, and Benno hadn’t told Tuuli that she could speak yet.

As the two looked at each other, Benno gave Tuuli the hard gaze of an instructor. “Tuuli, nobody’s gonna criticize you for loosening up a bit in this room, but you need to stay polite. You’ve gotta learn how to interact with nobles somewhere, so consider this a place where you can mess up a little without consequence.”

Tuuli nodded, a serious expression on her face. She had learned a lot about manners and speech over the past season in her fervent attempt to become a craftswoman skilled enough to meet Rozemyne, but she wasn’t quite good enough to safely interact with most nobles. Not even Lutz was, which was why he couldn’t go to the Noble’s Quarter.

“Rozemyne, if you want to keep having Tuuli deliver your hair stick orders, then help her learn while she’s here. She’s not presentable to the public at all yet.”

Rozemyne’s expression tightened. She gave a big nod, then turned to face Tuuli on the other side of the table from her. At that, Tuuli nervously took out a bundle of cloth from a wooden box, opened it, then lined the hair sticks up on the table.

Rozemyne held up a hand to stop her. “You mustn’t rush, Tuuli. Relax and take all the time you need. In fact, allow me to demonstrate how it should be done. Watch carefully, for I have been taught by experienced archnoble wives,” Rozemyne said, returning the hair sticks to their box before pulling it over to her. She then took a deep breath, and, once again, her entire aura seemed to change in an instant.

She touched the box’s lid with a warm, peaceful smile. Each movement she made was careful and precise, yet her pale fingers moved with incredible grace. She slowly opened the box, following a practiced rhythm that drew everyone’s eyes and focus to her hands, then took out the contents with both hands and undid the cloth as smoothly as a stream of moving water.

...What in the heck? Never before had Lutz seen such elegant movements. All she was doing was opening a box and removing its contents, but she was doing it so gently that he hadn’t even heard a noise when she set the lid down. The cloth had almost seemed to unfold on its own, and the hair sticks now resting on Rozemyne’s small white fingertips seemed all the more fancy just from being in contact with her. Lutz had just witnessed how much of an impact the way something was treated could have on how high-class it seemed, and it was such a shock to him that he felt as though he had been hit over the head.

“What do you think?” Rozemyne asked.

Lutz had no doubt that she was on an entirely different level from him. They had started at the same point, to be sure, and Lutz had even been working hard to improve his manners, but he was still nowhere even close to her. It seemed impossible that she could have grown so much over a single season.

t helped me understand that ha

Ignoring Karstedt’s astonishment, Ferdinand placed four feystones on the circle, one on each of the four cardinal directions, before turning to Rozemyne. “Rozemyne, take off your clothes and shoes, then stand on the circle.”

“Huh?!”

“H-Hold on there, Ferdinand!” Karstedt was flabbergasted. Rozemyne was still young, but that wasn’t an order you gave a woman so casually.

Regardless, Ferdinand remained unfazed, pointing at the magic circle with a flat expression on his face. “We will not be able to do this once she is baptized and adopted by the archduke. This is our only opportunity. Hurry up and do it.”

Rozemyne looked between Karstedt and Ferdinand, then blushed in embarrassment. “No way. That’s way too embarrassing!” she said, stepping back cautiously.

While Karstedt pitied her, Ferdinand apparently did not: he just glanced at her and sneered. “I am unsure where this sudden shame is coming from. You were just fine in the bathtub.”

“What?! Bathtub?!” Karstedt couldn’t believe his ears. She was “just fine in the bathtub”? Did they bathe together? Ferdinand bathed with Rozemyne?! Fixing his gaze on Ferdinand, he asked: “Ferdinand, what in the world did you do to this little girl?”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “D-Do not misunderstand, Karstedt! I am referring to when I observed her memories using the magic tool. I did not bathe with her!” he protested, almost in a panic.

Karstedt calmly determined that Ferdinand must have been telling the truth, given that his usual blank facade had crumbled almost instantly. But still, who wouldn’t have misunderstood that? Somebody who didn’t know about that magic tool would be convinced that Ferdinand had an interest in young girls. Had Sylvester been here, he would already be gleefully teasing him.

“Rozemyne, you were completely unperturbed back then! Why are you getting embarrassed now, of all times?!”

“I mean, at the time, I was so excited about being able to use (shampoo) and (bath salts) after so long... And I couldn’t even see you, so it was like we were just on the (phone) or something, and it was a dream, not reality, so... Anyway! I can’t take my clothes off in front of other people!” Rozemyne protested.

Karstedt now knew for sure that the bathing scene had arisen in her memories, and that at the time, she hadn’t been bothered by it.

“I am just examining your body. Is this truly more embarrassing than a bath?”

! If you want to call this a medical examination, then bring a doctor to do it!”

“Can you not just think of me as a doctor? The same thing will happen either way.” Ferdinand was so skilled that he truly could work as a doctor, and his personality was such that he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he examined her himself.

“Did you not surrender your feminine shame within three days of becoming Myne when you were stripped down by a man who you did not consider to be your father? It has been over three days since you’ve become Rozemyne. It is time to surrender once again.”

“N... N-N... N-No way!” Rozemyne flailed her arms and dashed toward Karstedt, yelling “S-Save me, Lord Karstedt!” She attempted to give Ferdinand a wide berth as he was already standing in between them, but he just effortlessly reached out and grabbed her. “GYAAAH! Let go of me! Gyaaaah!”

“Fool. How many times have I told you to address Karstedt as ‘Father’? And from this point on, call me by my name when we are outside of the temple,” Ferdinand said dryly, removing the sash and blue shrine maiden robes from the pitifully weeping Rozemyne without an ounce of hesitation. From the side, he looked just like a father punishing a child who was throwing a tantrum. But regardless of how young she was, stripping the clothes off of a woman so forcefully was simply not right.

Rozemyne, now stripped down to the green dress she had worn during Spring Prayer, looked at Karstedt, then reached out her arms with a desperate look on her face. “Fatheeer! Ferdinand is being a creep!”

“Do not invite misunderstandings, you foolish girl.” Ferdinand clamped a hand on Rozemyne’s head, squeezing it as she squealed for help.

Seeing that, Karstedt considered the possibility that they were much closer than he had thought—though perhaps he was simply trying to avoid facing the reality of their situation. Sylvester, speaking in jest after learning of Rozemyne’s immense mana following the trombe extermination mission, had suggested that Ferdinand marry her—and looking at them now, the idea didn’t seem so farfetched.

Seeing that, Karstedt considered the possibility that they were much closer than he had thought—though perhaps he was simply trying to avoid facing the reality of their situation. Sylvester, speaking in jest after learning of Rozemyne’s immense mana following the trombe extermination mission, had suggested that Ferdinand marry her—and looking at them now, the idea didn’t seem so farfetched.

Ferdinand made sure that the door was shut tight, then roughly rubbed the towel against my face. He grimaced hard when he saw that this hadn’t stopped my tears from flowing out.

“Ferdinand, hug!”

“Keep the towel on your face. If my robes get soaked, then I am leaving,” he said, clearly vexed, before sitting down on a chair, hefting me up, and giving me a hug.

d my meeting with the Plantin Company and ret

beneath me, I started clinging to Eckhart.

I have to say... aahh... the heat

Grutrissheit.”

At once, the Book of Mestionora appeared in my hands. Ignoring the gasps behind me, I pressed it against the gate.