It was Cloud.
“Miss, it’s time to go in now... Oh, the young master is here too. What have you been doing?”
Cloud spoke to Aila as if he had discovered Gerald too late, but she had a feeling that Cloud was lying.
She guessed he felt like he was rushing over to see Gerald.
“I just wanted to... eat cake with her.”
Gerald held up the cake box in his hand, and Cloud sighed in regret.
“Oh, I see. But it’s time for you to go in now, Miss. Unfortunately, you’ll have to eat the cake later.”
Cloud stepped between Gerald and Aila, as if to protect her, and spoke firmly.
Gerald looked slightly displeased at his overprotective attitude.
That would be the case. He had simply suggested they share a delicious cake, but Cloud's reaction was as if he had done something terrible to Aila.
But Gerald had no choice but to back down. He wanted to say something, but Cloud was too intimidating, and he was a little scared.
Cloud was muscular and well-built, and he had a long scar on his face, though he didn't know how he got injured, which made him even more so.
“...Then see you next time, pretty girl.”
He must have been scared and taken a step back, but he didn't want to lose face again, so he greeted her in a crawling voice.
Even if he said next time, she had a feeling that he would come back tomorrow and shamelessly show his face again, so Aila sighed and left the place with Cloud.
And Gerald, left alone, was so angry he couldn't stand it anymore, and he threw the basket of cakes on the floor in a huff. His pride was so hurt that he couldn't stand it.
“...Is this how a girl comes out with such a haughty face?”
He couldn't understand why something so trivial could cost so much, and he stomped on the chocolate cake that had fallen to the floor. The crushed cake felt like his pride had fallen to the floor.
At this point, regardless of his father's orders, he felt like he would only feel better if he could somehow make that woman obey him.
Gerald spat on the smashed cake and walked towards the main building.
"So, you think that kid is quite useful now? Enough to put him straight into the Duke's service."
Byron asked with a rather satisfied expression. Cloud had just reported that he had nothing more to teach Aila.
"Yes, she's grown rapidly in a short time. I think her experience in actual combat probably helped a lot."
Cloud spoke, recalling the two recent battles he had fought. He couldn't explain Aila's rapid growth without thinking about it.
In reality, it is not an unreasonable guess, as fighting multiple people is often more beneficial for improving one's skills than fighting just one person.
"Hmm, very good. Thank you for your hard work, Sir Cloud Air."
Byron chuckled and poured a glass of fine whiskey into his mouth. It was one of the liquors Count Cenospon had gifted him to curry favor.
It was truly welcome news. It felt like the moment of fulfillment of his long-held plan to kill Roderick Weishaffen with his own daughter's hand was within reach.
Byron felt a surge of elation, as if he could send Aila to kill Roderick at any moment.
But the laughter at that cheerful fantasy was short-lived, as the grim reality soon dawned on me.
“...Then what should I do? Even if I try to send that woman away, she’ll have to go back to her home country and do whatever it takes.”
He was currently on the run, evading pursuit and fleeing abroad. Even if he tried to return, he would have to wait until the borders within the Peles Empire relaxed a bit before he could.
To remove the curse on Aila's body, he had to find the sorcerer who had placed the curse on her, but that was okay since he could bring him to the Inselkov Kingdom.
Besides that, if they can't return to the Peles Empire, they'll face many difficult problems.
It took a long time for the situation within the empire to reach him, and because of this, he was unable to control the sudden events that occurred within the country.
An uncontrollable rage welled up within him. A sense of worthless resentment, a nagging suspicion that this was all because Cloud had failed to assassinate Winfred, kept rearing its head within him.
It had long been forgotten that it was his own whim that had prompted him to demand the reckless assassination that Cloud opposed in the first place.
But before Byron could fully express his usual anger, Cloud changed the subject and brought up another topic. It was such startling news that the fire burning within him was instantly quelled.
“Oh, and... My lord, I have something to tell you. That is... Count Cenospon’s son keeps lingering around that child.”
“What does that mean? Why the Count’s son?”
“It seems like he's interested in that kid. So...”
Cloud muttered, embarrassed. Having spent his entire life worrying only about his family's reputation and having no experience with romance, he was at a loss for words.
However, this explanation was sufficient for Byron, who had been living a promiscuous life with various women before meeting Ophelia.
Doesn't that mean that that reckless kid sees Aila as a woman?
“Oh, that’s right.”
Byron burst out laughing. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen.
But when he thought about it carefully, it made sense. As the daughter of Ophelia, the most beautiful woman in the world, he had always thought that she would resemble her mother and have a rather presentable face when she grew up.
Besides, she'd grown so much recently that, from a distance, you might mistake her for a slightly shorter adult woman. Even Byron, drunk on several occasions, mistook her for Ophelia and rubbed his eyes.
To a sixteen-year-old, the little girl would have looked quite nice.
But regardless of his understanding, the emotion that arose within him was one of discomfort. Discomfort stemming from the fact that a young child, still young and still young, would dare to covet what was "his."
His feelings toward Aila were complicated.
She was the daughter of his sworn enemy, Roderick, and she was someone he would cruelly discard once her usefulness had worn off.
But at the same time, she was the daughter of a woman he loved so dearly. Her plump lips, just like Ophelia's, her hair, flowing softly and shining, and even the slight bend of her middle finger, were so reminiscent of Ophelia's.
So, whenever he saw Aila, he felt a surge of anger and hatred, but at the same time, he felt a vague sense of nostalgia. A chaotic feeling, as if Ophelia were standing before him.
Although he had placed a curse on her so that he could kill her at any time, that was also the reason why he could never bring himself to activate the curse.
So, for Aila, he, her "father," had to be everything. Byron had to be the only one who could bring her happiness, and he had to be the only one who could inflict the utmost pain and despair.
It was a twisted desire for exclusivity.
But how dare you, a young son of a Count who isn't even a Count?
“...It’s not easy for me to handle this on my own. I’m sorry.”
Cloud lowered his head as if he were ashamed, but Byron shook his head as if to tell him not to worry.
“I guess I’ll have to talk to the Count myself.”
In fact, the Count wouldn't have been particularly pleased with this situation. His son was showing interest in a hunting dog that was about to be boiled after the hunt, and the quick-thinking Count couldn't have just ignored it.
It would be different if they had mistaken Aila for his biological daughter.
“The Count is coming here soon, so I must tell him this story.”
The Count, who had left home at dawn before Byron even woke up, saying he had something to do, had decided to come and discuss something.
And a moment later, as if he knew he was telling him his story, the Count knocked on the door.
“Then I will step aside now.”
Cloud greeted the Count politely and stepped aside, and the Count, who was furious about where he had been, sat down across from him, grumbling.
“Where did you go to make you so angry?”
Byron placed the empty glass in front of the Count, poured him a drink, and asked. Apparently, the Count also needed this drink to quell the anger simmering within him.
“I’m on my way back from the palace. The King has summoned all the nobles and officials, saying he has something important to say.”
Count Cenospon drank the wine Byron had poured him in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and spoke. The King's "urgent words" seemed to have upset the Count.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, you said you would put my son on the throne, didn’t you? It’s as if you were just waiting for the Duke of Bache to fall from power.”
The Count was furious, saying that it was only a few months ago that the Duke of Bache and the King's eldest son were competing for the throne, and now they are talking about appointing a Crown Prince.
He seemed to be feeling a bit under the weather, so instead of waiting for Byron to refill his glass, he filled it himself and downed another. He seemed quite disappointed by the downfall of the Duke of Bache, whom he had supported.
“Oh my, that’s so.”
Byron, while secretly wondering what the King had wronged him by making his son the Crown Prince, filled the Count's glass with a soulless nod.
“Miss, it’s time to go in now... Oh, the young master is here too. What have you been doing?”
Cloud spoke to Aila as if he had discovered Gerald too late, but she had a feeling that Cloud was lying.
She guessed he felt like he was rushing over to see Gerald.
“I just wanted to... eat cake with her.”
Gerald held up the cake box in his hand, and Cloud sighed in regret.
“Oh, I see. But it’s time for you to go in now, Miss. Unfortunately, you’ll have to eat the cake later.”
Cloud stepped between Gerald and Aila, as if to protect her, and spoke firmly.
Gerald looked slightly displeased at his overprotective attitude.
That would be the case. He had simply suggested they share a delicious cake, but Cloud's reaction was as if he had done something terrible to Aila.
But Gerald had no choice but to back down. He wanted to say something, but Cloud was too intimidating, and he was a little scared.
Cloud was muscular and well-built, and he had a long scar on his face, though he didn't know how he got injured, which made him even more so.
“...Then see you next time, pretty girl.”
He must have been scared and taken a step back, but he didn't want to lose face again, so he greeted her in a crawling voice.
Even if he said next time, she had a feeling that he would come back tomorrow and shamelessly show his face again, so Aila sighed and left the place with Cloud.
And Gerald, left alone, was so angry he couldn't stand it anymore, and he threw the basket of cakes on the floor in a huff. His pride was so hurt that he couldn't stand it.
“...Is this how a girl comes out with such a haughty face?”
He couldn't understand why something so trivial could cost so much, and he stomped on the chocolate cake that had fallen to the floor. The crushed cake felt like his pride had fallen to the floor.
At this point, regardless of his father's orders, he felt like he would only feel better if he could somehow make that woman obey him.
Gerald spat on the smashed cake and walked towards the main building.
***
"So, you think that kid is quite useful now? Enough to put him straight into the Duke's service."
Byron asked with a rather satisfied expression. Cloud had just reported that he had nothing more to teach Aila.
"Yes, she's grown rapidly in a short time. I think her experience in actual combat probably helped a lot."
Cloud spoke, recalling the two recent battles he had fought. He couldn't explain Aila's rapid growth without thinking about it.
In reality, it is not an unreasonable guess, as fighting multiple people is often more beneficial for improving one's skills than fighting just one person.
"Hmm, very good. Thank you for your hard work, Sir Cloud Air."
Byron chuckled and poured a glass of fine whiskey into his mouth. It was one of the liquors Count Cenospon had gifted him to curry favor.
It was truly welcome news. It felt like the moment of fulfillment of his long-held plan to kill Roderick Weishaffen with his own daughter's hand was within reach.
Byron felt a surge of elation, as if he could send Aila to kill Roderick at any moment.
But the laughter at that cheerful fantasy was short-lived, as the grim reality soon dawned on me.
“...Then what should I do? Even if I try to send that woman away, she’ll have to go back to her home country and do whatever it takes.”
He was currently on the run, evading pursuit and fleeing abroad. Even if he tried to return, he would have to wait until the borders within the Peles Empire relaxed a bit before he could.
To remove the curse on Aila's body, he had to find the sorcerer who had placed the curse on her, but that was okay since he could bring him to the Inselkov Kingdom.
Besides that, if they can't return to the Peles Empire, they'll face many difficult problems.
It took a long time for the situation within the empire to reach him, and because of this, he was unable to control the sudden events that occurred within the country.
An uncontrollable rage welled up within him. A sense of worthless resentment, a nagging suspicion that this was all because Cloud had failed to assassinate Winfred, kept rearing its head within him.
It had long been forgotten that it was his own whim that had prompted him to demand the reckless assassination that Cloud opposed in the first place.
But before Byron could fully express his usual anger, Cloud changed the subject and brought up another topic. It was such startling news that the fire burning within him was instantly quelled.
“Oh, and... My lord, I have something to tell you. That is... Count Cenospon’s son keeps lingering around that child.”
“What does that mean? Why the Count’s son?”
“It seems like he's interested in that kid. So...”
Cloud muttered, embarrassed. Having spent his entire life worrying only about his family's reputation and having no experience with romance, he was at a loss for words.
However, this explanation was sufficient for Byron, who had been living a promiscuous life with various women before meeting Ophelia.
Doesn't that mean that that reckless kid sees Aila as a woman?
“Oh, that’s right.”
Byron burst out laughing. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen.
But when he thought about it carefully, it made sense. As the daughter of Ophelia, the most beautiful woman in the world, he had always thought that she would resemble her mother and have a rather presentable face when she grew up.
Besides, she'd grown so much recently that, from a distance, you might mistake her for a slightly shorter adult woman. Even Byron, drunk on several occasions, mistook her for Ophelia and rubbed his eyes.
To a sixteen-year-old, the little girl would have looked quite nice.
But regardless of his understanding, the emotion that arose within him was one of discomfort. Discomfort stemming from the fact that a young child, still young and still young, would dare to covet what was "his."
His feelings toward Aila were complicated.
She was the daughter of his sworn enemy, Roderick, and she was someone he would cruelly discard once her usefulness had worn off.
But at the same time, she was the daughter of a woman he loved so dearly. Her plump lips, just like Ophelia's, her hair, flowing softly and shining, and even the slight bend of her middle finger, were so reminiscent of Ophelia's.
So, whenever he saw Aila, he felt a surge of anger and hatred, but at the same time, he felt a vague sense of nostalgia. A chaotic feeling, as if Ophelia were standing before him.
Although he had placed a curse on her so that he could kill her at any time, that was also the reason why he could never bring himself to activate the curse.
So, for Aila, he, her "father," had to be everything. Byron had to be the only one who could bring her happiness, and he had to be the only one who could inflict the utmost pain and despair.
It was a twisted desire for exclusivity.
But how dare you, a young son of a Count who isn't even a Count?
“...It’s not easy for me to handle this on my own. I’m sorry.”
Cloud lowered his head as if he were ashamed, but Byron shook his head as if to tell him not to worry.
“I guess I’ll have to talk to the Count myself.”
In fact, the Count wouldn't have been particularly pleased with this situation. His son was showing interest in a hunting dog that was about to be boiled after the hunt, and the quick-thinking Count couldn't have just ignored it.
It would be different if they had mistaken Aila for his biological daughter.
“The Count is coming here soon, so I must tell him this story.”
The Count, who had left home at dawn before Byron even woke up, saying he had something to do, had decided to come and discuss something.
And a moment later, as if he knew he was telling him his story, the Count knocked on the door.
“Then I will step aside now.”
Cloud greeted the Count politely and stepped aside, and the Count, who was furious about where he had been, sat down across from him, grumbling.
“Where did you go to make you so angry?”
Byron placed the empty glass in front of the Count, poured him a drink, and asked. Apparently, the Count also needed this drink to quell the anger simmering within him.
“I’m on my way back from the palace. The King has summoned all the nobles and officials, saying he has something important to say.”
Count Cenospon drank the wine Byron had poured him in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and spoke. The King's "urgent words" seemed to have upset the Count.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, you said you would put my son on the throne, didn’t you? It’s as if you were just waiting for the Duke of Bache to fall from power.”
The Count was furious, saying that it was only a few months ago that the Duke of Bache and the King's eldest son were competing for the throne, and now they are talking about appointing a Crown Prince.
He seemed to be feeling a bit under the weather, so instead of waiting for Byron to refill his glass, he filled it himself and downed another. He seemed quite disappointed by the downfall of the Duke of Bache, whom he had supported.
“Oh my, that’s so.”
Byron, while secretly wondering what the King had wronged him by making his son the Crown Prince, filled the Count's glass with a soulless nod.
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