Chapter 8
Lately, there were quite a few new people in the mansion, probably due to whatever work Father was involved in. Judging by the unfamiliar voice, it seemed to be one of them.
If that were all, I would’ve brushed it off without much thought. But of all things, it had to be that voice—like a thorn, it pierced into my mind.
“Is it really because of the eldest young lady?”
What?
The eldest young lady—that’s me. What about me? What are they talking about?
My heart fluttered with anxiety.
I slowly got down from the bed and walked toward the door.
I didn’t want to hear it. But I also did.
Maybe I’d finally understand why the people in this mansion were so cold to me.
That thought pounded in my chest.
With mixed feelings—half wanting to open the door, half not—I slowly clenched my hand.
Creak.
A soft sound echoed as the door cracked open, and I saw two people standing outside through the gap.
One was a servant who had worked in our mansion for quite a while, and the other was someone unfamiliar.
The one who spoke seemed to be the younger, newer one.
“I’ve already heard about it.”
His voice, which had echoed loudly, quickly dropped as if embarrassed. He leaned in, glancing around cautiously.
“I may not look like it, but I’m pretty up-to-date on rumors. It’s not like there’s just one or two people curious about the Hilington sisters, right?”
“……”
“So I’ve picked up a lot of gossip. And yes, there’s talk about the eldest young lady too.”
What is he even saying?
We haven’t participated in any social events. How is there gossip about me?
“I have to admit, Lady Hildea does feel… unapproachable. She’s only eight, but never smiles, always cold. I’ve never seen her act warmly to anyone. In contrast, Lady Rose is just so adorable, isn’t she?”
“……”
That bastard.
I wanted to run out right then and there, grab him by the collar, and shake him while yelling, “What the hell are you talking about?!”
I could take blaming myself—but hearing such things from a complete stranger? That I couldn’t stand.
But then, with his next words, the volcanic rage bubbling inside me froze into cold wax.
“They say the Duchess died because of the eldest young lady’s blessing. Come on, just be honest. It’s true, isn’t it?”
…What?
“Blessing?”
My… blessing?
At that moment, my jaw trembled uncontrollably.
Clack. My teeth chattered.
I felt as if I’d been stripped naked in the dead of winter.
I have a blessing? And…
My mother died… because of me?
“What kind of blessing could possibly kill the Duchess? What kind of power does Lady Hildea have?”
The older servant didn’t speak, but the certainty in the younger one’s words struck my chest like an axe.
Mother died… because of a blessing I didn’t even know I had.
Is that… why everyone avoids me?
My heart throbbed in pain. I knew what was trickling down my cheek like a fool—tears.
I gently closed the door and breathed slowly.
“Haa…”
My vision blurred.
Like a child trying not to cry, my shoulders trembled.
There was nothing like this in the original story.
Me, having a blessing?
Does that mean I have a power too?
And that’s why Mother…?
Is that why Father, and everyone else, treated me like I was difficult?
Why does it hurt this much? I’m not even the real child.
The face reflected in the mirror had no expression. It looked just like the old me.
I really don’t know what my blessing is. I didn’t even know my name until I was twelve months old—how would I know something like that?
But then a fear I couldn’t accept crept in.
If Mother really died because of my blessing, then… was there never any hope for me from the start?
Was I really just an extra—something unwanted?
In The Young Lady is Sweet, the younger sister’s older sister doesn’t exist.
Then maybe, in truth, the real Hildea died the moment she was kidnapped?
Then… maybe I really don’t deserve to be here…
Is that what this all means?
“Sis.”
“!”
If those small arms hadn’t gently wrapped around me from behind just then, I might’ve fallen into a very deep, dark thought.
“What are you doooiing?”
I quickly wiped my tears. Even if I might know something, the girl behind me—Rose—was truly an innocent eight-year-old.
Sadness and sorrow… they’re contagious.
“It’s nothing.”
“Sis, why are you crying? Did someone bother you?”
When I turned around, I saw those red eyes glistening with tears.
Rose’s nose wrinkled as she sniffled, trying to hold herself together.
“No, really. Why are you crying, Sis?”
“That’s not trueee. Sniff . You cried. And I heard something bad too.”
“There was nothing, Rose. You should sleep some more. Why are you up so early?”
“Khhng, sniff, then sleep with me, okay? Don’t listen to anything.”
Rose came closer and placed her warm hands over my ears, gently rubbing them.
It felt like she was trying to scrub away all the bad sounds, and I couldn’t help but smile. Oh, she’s so sweet.
Even the way she blinked slowly as she looked up at me and spoke—it wasn’t sly, it was just tender.
“I’m sooo sleepy. Let’s just sleep a little more together, okay, Sis?”
That’s strange. I thought I just heard someone grinding their teeth.
But all I could see in front of me was my adorable, smiling Rose.
Right. A bunny-like girl like her wouldn’t be grinding her teeth in anger.
“…Shall we?”
“Yup. Just a little more. You’ll sleep a little more with me too, right, Sis? Sleep is the best medicine.”
“Pfft, where’d you hear that?”
“I’m a smart little sister~ Heehee.”
Her tiny hand tugged at mine. I didn’t resist and let myself be drawn back under the soft, fluffy covers.
Rose used her tiny fingers to gently wipe away the tear tracks on my cheeks.
A wave of sadness lingered, but even more than that, I felt a boiling anger toward the servant outside who had said those horrible things.
Next time I see him…
I’m really going to yank out every one of those annoying nose hairs of his.
No, I’ll scorch them out like herbicide—so nothing ever grows back!
Hmph. What even is my blessing that they talk like that?
Pat, pat.
Rose’s little hands tapped my shoulder, something she probably picked up somewhere, and I held back the tears again as I hugged her tightly.
With the warmth of that child’s body, I slipped into sleep like a hibernating creature fleeing its pain.
As if I could forget everything.
But the unease remained, like a thorn embedded in my chest.
I didn’t want to be hated by Father. Or by Rose.
Please… Please let it not be true that Mother died because of me.
Please
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Some time later—
Rustling sounds came from the bed.
“Sis, are you asleep?”
The silver-haired girl had quickly fallen into a deep sleep from exhaustion, her cheeks stained with tear tracks.
“That bastard. I won’t forgive him.”
And from the lips of the pink-haired girl watching over her, came another unmistakable sound—sharp and dangerous, like earlier.
“I’ll destroy him.”
The girl—Rosériel —clenched her fists tightly and stood up, eyes burning with determination.
She fished a hidden pen from her pocket, then tore out a sheet from the notebook on her sister’s desk.
And then… something strange happened.
As if by magic, a box-like form appeared on the paper the pen touched.
Ding!
“It’s already frustrating enough not being able to talk to her directly. And now that jerk dares to hurt my sister?”
With eyes blazing like fire, Rosériel began to write furiously.
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‘What the hell. Why’s this guy not answering?’
Chris swallowed his curses and annoyance as he stared daggers at the senior servant, who was just silently staring at a piece of paper.
Why the hell is he just ignoring me?
This mansion was seriously weird.
At first, Chris had assumed the eldest daughter, Hildea, was being abused by the family and staff.
But the more he observed, the more it didn’t seem that way.
So he tried probing, thinking there might be some hidden truth—but the slow, quiet senior servant didn’t say a word. Just stared at the paper.
‘What the hell is on that paper, you lunatic?’
‘You asleep? Asleep while standing?’
The truth was—Chris was a spy.
He had secretly infiltrated noble households as a servant to gather sensitive information and sell it to interested buyers for a good price.
Nobles always had skeletons in their closets, and even a small leak could bring in piles of cash.
Right now, the most sought-after gossip among the empire’s nobles was about Belkius and Hillington.
Belkius is a no-go, Chris thought.
Just remembering what that twelve-year-old freak of a head of house did upon inheriting the title was enough to kill that idea. Not worth going near.
Hillington, on the other hand, seemed weaker now—so Chris had slipped in.
But this? This was beyond bizarre.
And then—
“You.”
The senior servant, whom Chris had started to suspect of dozing off standing, slowly raised his head.
There was something about the way he moved—so creaky and deliberate—that sent a chill down Chris’s spine.
“Y-Yeah?”
“That crap about the ‘blessing’ or whatever…”
And the worst part was—the look in the man’s eyes.
Eyes that said he was ready to rip Chris apart.
Holy sh—
“Look at you, spewing shit out your mouth like a sewer.”
Chris’s body froze, and he felt chills going down his spine.
He wanted to look away—but couldn’t. It was like his body was no longer his own.
“You got the guts to talk crap about our young lady?”
If you wanted to sell information as a servant in a noble’s house, you had to be strong enough to protect yourself—and Chris was highly skilled.
But to be manhandled by a mere servant?
Damn it! I— I can’t breathe!
“You’ve lost your mind, mouthing off like that right in the middle of Hillington?”
And then—thud—with a grunt, Chris found himself in the man’s grip, his neck crushed in a single hand.
Even as Chris’s face turned red, the senior servant just smirked coldly.
You psycho!
“Guh… guh…!”
“Just because you have a mouth doesn’t mean you should spew garbage.”
The paper the servant had tossed aside had writing on it.
But the words were already fading, as if determined not to leave behind a single piece of evidence.
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Ding.
— “Observer Mode” has entered the chat.
— Recruiting party to punish the rookie who made Hildea cry.
— He dared to spout nonsense.
— Needs a proper lesson.
— Looks suspicious. Might be a spy.
“You’re dead today, pal.”
“Uwaah… mmph!”
The senior servant spoke. “Shh.”
“The young ladies might wake up. Keep it down, you bastard.”
Soon, Chris came to deeply regret ever stepping foot into this place.
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“And now, we’ll begin a more detailed discussion about the Belkius and Hillington families. Do any of the young ladies have questions?”
At the elegant voice of the Marchioness, Rose—who had been dozing with her chin in her hands—suddenly opened her eyes wide and raised her hand.
“Yes!”
Though she clearly meant to scold her, the Marchioness hesitated, unable to bring herself to say anything harsh. Watching her conflicted expression, I stifled a laugh.
Just give up, Madam Marchioness.
My little sister is not someone you can bring yourself to scold.
“Yes, Lady Rose. What would you like to ask?”
“That marriage proposal. What happens if both my sister and I say we hate it?”
I opened my eyes wide in shock.
