How much have you seen?
It was only a short time, only a few hours, but she wondered if she had become attached to it.
It was funny how she missed Winfred as if she were missing her parents.
‘...I still want to see you.’
Will Winfred remember her? He probably forgot her because it was just a fleeting encounter.
As she thought about that, a lonely wind blew through Aila's chest. She hoped he remembered her, too. She wished he could recall those memories, reminisce, and miss them.
That lonely night.
She still didn't know that her reunion with Winfred was just around the corner.
"Are you still coming and going from the annex these days? Could you please listen to your father? I told you not to! I'll find a prettier one for you, yes?"
Count Senospon, clutching at the hem of his son's clothes and pleading, said he had no idea how many times he had been having the same conversation.
It was clear that they had forgotten that children of that age tend to get angrier if they keep saying no, no.
And in fact, the Count didn't have high expectations either. It wasn't likely that his stubborn son would suddenly change overnight and declare, "I won't be a troublemaker anymore."
But contrary to the Count's expectations, Gerald surprisingly obediently answered yes.
“Yes, I got it. I won’t go anymore.”
“So, that kid said no... No, what did you just say?”
“...I’m not going to the annex.”
At Gerald's words, the Count, doubting his ears, poked them once. He suspected he'd misheard, perhaps due to the accumulated wax.
“Really?”
“Yes. However, there is a condition.”
Gerald followed up with a stubborn expression.
Well then, that's right. There's no way this guy would bend to his will so easily.
"What are the conditions? Let's hear it first."
The Count asked in a tired voice.
In fact, he was willing to accept any conditions. He was starting to tire of hearing unpleasant things from Byron every time he met him and constantly having to watch his every move.
But Gerald's conditions were not something that could be easily accepted.
"Please let me go out with her alone at this festival. Just this once. After we go out together just once, I'll never turn my head toward the annex again."
“...What is that? Are you saying you’re going to the Crown Prince’s investiture celebration right now?”
Knowing full well that his father had been treated like leftover rice for supporting the Duke of Bache, he would go to the festival commemorating the Crown Prince's coronation with a woman whom his father was so opposed to.
If this wasn't a deliberate attempt to upset his father, then what was? The Count couldn't figure out where this image had come from.
“Oh, I told you the conditions. If it’s not met, I will never listen to you, Father.”
“That’s not something I can just give permission for! I have to hear the wishes of the guests in the annex as well...!”
Considering how many times Byron had stubbornly demanded that Gerald be separated from the child, who might or might not be his daughter, it was actually a nearly impossible condition.
But it wasn't Gerald's business. He intended to make sure his father complied with this condition.
“I won’t eat until you give me permission!”
He was even thinking of going on a hunger strike.
“You? You, who loses all your temper after skipping just one meal? That must be quite the case.”
The Count scoffed. "Three days is nothing," he thought, "because I knew you'd give up in less than a day."
“...Just wait and see.”
Gerald glared at his father with a fierce gaze and stomped into his room. It was the moment when the war between the rich and the poor began.
And four days later.
The Count couldn't do his work properly because his wife kept nagging him.
“Do something about it! If we keep doing this, our son will starve to death!”
Contrary to expectations that he wouldn't last even a day, Gerald had been protesting properly for four days, skipping meals.
“Ha, seriously, I don’t know who that kid takes after.”
"It's only once, honey. Your child is dying. What else is important right now? Go and talk to the guest in the annex."
The Count groaned, his head in his hands, as if his head was aching, while the Countess clung to him, repeating the same thing over and over again until it hurt his ears.
"Honey!!"
“Be quiet. My head hurts.”
The Count, seemingly unhearing, pressed his temples together and ignored his wife's complaints. And the more he did so, the more the Countess's anger grew.
She didn't like the idea of having a guest in her outbuilding, who she had no idea who they were, so she made this little gesture.
It was only a short time, only a few hours, but she wondered if she had become attached to it.
It was funny how she missed Winfred as if she were missing her parents.
‘...I still want to see you.’
Will Winfred remember her? He probably forgot her because it was just a fleeting encounter.
As she thought about that, a lonely wind blew through Aila's chest. She hoped he remembered her, too. She wished he could recall those memories, reminisce, and miss them.
That lonely night.
She still didn't know that her reunion with Winfred was just around the corner.
***
"Are you still coming and going from the annex these days? Could you please listen to your father? I told you not to! I'll find a prettier one for you, yes?"
Count Senospon, clutching at the hem of his son's clothes and pleading, said he had no idea how many times he had been having the same conversation.
It was clear that they had forgotten that children of that age tend to get angrier if they keep saying no, no.
And in fact, the Count didn't have high expectations either. It wasn't likely that his stubborn son would suddenly change overnight and declare, "I won't be a troublemaker anymore."
But contrary to the Count's expectations, Gerald surprisingly obediently answered yes.
“Yes, I got it. I won’t go anymore.”
“So, that kid said no... No, what did you just say?”
“...I’m not going to the annex.”
At Gerald's words, the Count, doubting his ears, poked them once. He suspected he'd misheard, perhaps due to the accumulated wax.
“Really?”
“Yes. However, there is a condition.”
Gerald followed up with a stubborn expression.
Well then, that's right. There's no way this guy would bend to his will so easily.
"What are the conditions? Let's hear it first."
The Count asked in a tired voice.
In fact, he was willing to accept any conditions. He was starting to tire of hearing unpleasant things from Byron every time he met him and constantly having to watch his every move.
But Gerald's conditions were not something that could be easily accepted.
"Please let me go out with her alone at this festival. Just this once. After we go out together just once, I'll never turn my head toward the annex again."
“...What is that? Are you saying you’re going to the Crown Prince’s investiture celebration right now?”
Knowing full well that his father had been treated like leftover rice for supporting the Duke of Bache, he would go to the festival commemorating the Crown Prince's coronation with a woman whom his father was so opposed to.
If this wasn't a deliberate attempt to upset his father, then what was? The Count couldn't figure out where this image had come from.
“Oh, I told you the conditions. If it’s not met, I will never listen to you, Father.”
“That’s not something I can just give permission for! I have to hear the wishes of the guests in the annex as well...!”
Considering how many times Byron had stubbornly demanded that Gerald be separated from the child, who might or might not be his daughter, it was actually a nearly impossible condition.
But it wasn't Gerald's business. He intended to make sure his father complied with this condition.
“I won’t eat until you give me permission!”
He was even thinking of going on a hunger strike.
“You? You, who loses all your temper after skipping just one meal? That must be quite the case.”
The Count scoffed. "Three days is nothing," he thought, "because I knew you'd give up in less than a day."
“...Just wait and see.”
Gerald glared at his father with a fierce gaze and stomped into his room. It was the moment when the war between the rich and the poor began.
And four days later.
The Count couldn't do his work properly because his wife kept nagging him.
“Do something about it! If we keep doing this, our son will starve to death!”
Contrary to expectations that he wouldn't last even a day, Gerald had been protesting properly for four days, skipping meals.
“Ha, seriously, I don’t know who that kid takes after.”
"It's only once, honey. Your child is dying. What else is important right now? Go and talk to the guest in the annex."
The Count groaned, his head in his hands, as if his head was aching, while the Countess clung to him, repeating the same thing over and over again until it hurt his ears.
"Honey!!"
“Be quiet. My head hurts.”
The Count, seemingly unhearing, pressed his temples together and ignored his wife's complaints. And the more he did so, the more the Countess's anger grew.
She didn't like the idea of having a guest in her outbuilding, who she had no idea who they were, so she made this little gesture.
The Countess filled a glass with water and splashed it on the face of her husband, who was not even willing to listen to her.
“Make Gerald eat right now! Or we’ll get a divorce!”
“...Honey, Clara!”
The Count groaned in embarrassment as his wife, who had just run out of the Count's office, locked herself in her room and refused to come out.
He felt like he couldn't just sit back and watch any longer.
The Count went to the annex and met Byron. He felt that if he could somehow persuade Byron to grant Gerald's demands, peace would come to his life.
Of course, he didn't go empty-handed. He went with both hands heavily loaded with the most luxurious liquor from his liquor collection.
Before bringing up his son's ridiculous demands, he needed to make Byron feel as good as possible.
And just as the Count had intended, Byron seemed to be in quite a good mood after a few glasses of the precious wine. With a slightly excited expression, he began issuing a series of empty checks.
These were extremely unlikely stories about what he would do after becoming Emperor.
However, the Count, who was actually hearing the empty promise, did not seem very pleased.
It was natural. He was so focused on Byron's reaction, figuring out when and how to bring up the subject, that he didn't even notice the expensive alcohol going into his mouth or nose.
And Byron, who had been talking to himself for a while, finally realized that the Count was trying to please him and time things.
"Hmm, I see you have something to tell me. Don't be afraid to tell me. There's nothing I can't hear between us."
Byron, who was pleased that the Count's efforts had paid off, opened his mouth, determined to readily grant any request.
It was a good sign for the Count.
“Ah, that’s... my son.”
He felt the moment was right and laid out Gerald's demands. He had assumed that even Byron wouldn't outright refuse, and his prediction proved correct.
Byron didn't say no right away, even though he was groaning in embarrassment.
"He promised me over and over again that if he went out with her just once, he wouldn't bother her again. He's stubborn, but once he makes a promise, he sticks to it."
As the Count pressed on, driving the point home, Byron took a sip of his fragrant wine and fell into thought.
He always thought the Count's son was a stupid guy who didn't know his place and was always after other people's things, but he turned out to be quite a smart guy.
'That's right. You have to take what you can.'
If you simply gave in to demands, you would be a victim. Every transaction required a back-and-forth.
That didn't mean he liked Gerald. He still felt uncomfortable with the fact that he had dared to covet what was his, and there were many things about his demands that felt off.
The child who resembled Ophelia was happily going out to see the festival with another man. Just imagining Aila smiling brightly as she walked down the bustling street made his stomach churn.
'...No, come to think of it, I told Aila I would allow her to go out.'
Of course, he had planned to send Cloud and Laura along at the time. But sending Cloud into the city at a time like this, with the Imperial delegation present, was dangerous, and Laura was also planning to infiltrate the Duke's household as soon as she returned to the Empire, so it was best to keep her out of sight.
But that doesn't mean he can send Aila out alone.
There was no way to keep the promise, but this opportunity came.
So, this was a chance to kill two birds with one stone: keep his promise to Aila and get rid of that pesky bug that was nagging at her.
Having finished the calculations up to this point, it would have been acceptable to give permission without hesitation, but Byron opened his mouth, pretending to find it difficult, and rubbed his chin.
"Hmm, but wouldn't it be a little dangerous for just the two of them? Even though she's not my biological daughter, she's a valuable hunting dog with many uses."
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll send the best knights from the Count’s family as your escort.”
That's enough to keep an eye on Ayla and the unattractive Gerald, the two children.
Byron nodded in satisfaction.
“Yes. It might work for a day or so.”
“...Really? Thank you, thank you so much, sir!”
Upon receiving Byron's permission, the Count was genuinely delighted and gave Byron the entire bottle he had left in his arms. To him, Byron was the benefactor who had saved his son from starvation and saved him from divorce.
Having safely achieved the purpose of his visit to the annex, the Count returned to the main building with his shoulders squared and knocked on Gerald's door.
He wanted to tell Gerald this news right away.
“Gerald, honey! Let’s talk."
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