Chapter 41
‘Why is he laughing?’
Grace tilted her head, not sure which part of what she said was funny.
“Was something I said funny?”
“No, not exactly funny. I’m just not used to hearing that kind of thing.”
Then why laugh if it’s not funny? She didn’t quite understand, but decided to let it go. There was still something she wanted to say.
“I… I think it was a good thing I came here.”
“Oh, the forest? Yeah, it’s one of the easiest places to ride to.”
“No. I mean the Winstaine estate… this place.”
Grace shook her head.
“I really like everything here. Everyone is kind and treats me well.”
“……”
“I’ve learned so many things… and I found things I like, too. I draw now… and I started a new business. I never imagined any of this before.”
She beamed at Frederick as she spoke.
“And you, Frederick… you’re a good person.”
“Hearing that over and over is kind of embarrassing. That’s not what I was hoping to hear when I asked.”
Frederick cleared his throat quietly, clearly not used to compliments like that.
“Honestly, I was scared before I came here.”
“Of what?”
“People… they said you were scary.”
“Well, I know the kind of rumors that are going around about me.”
Frederick responded indifferently.
“To be fair, they’re not entirely false.”
“W-What? Why?”
Grace was startled and raised her voice. She couldn’t understand why he would admit to such terrible rumors about himself.
“The rumors made you sound like some kind of monster who just kills people!”
“It’s true I’ve killed a lot of people. I think it’s fair to call me a monster.”
“……”
“Of course, people add weird stuff like me drinking blood or tormenting others.”
“But… it’s not like you did something bad.”
Grace objected. Even if Frederick had killed people, she didn’t think he did it for evil reasons.
“Is there such a thing as good killing and bad killing?”
She was a little surprised by the cynical tone in his voice. Frederick stared straight ahead and continued.
“Taking someone’s life is all the same. Just because it happens on a battlefield doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“……”
“But as a knight, protecting my land and my country is my duty. So I do it.”
“Still… I don’t like it.”
Grace pouted slightly.
“I don’t like that people think badly of you.”
“As long as I stay in my own territory, those rumors don’t affect me much. And I don’t really care to change what they think.”
There was something sad about Frederick’s indifferent attitude.
Grace had always been afraid of how people looked at her—as if she were something unnecessary because she was a bastard. She always felt small and timid because of that.
But Frederick didn’t seem to care at all about the rumors surrounding him. She couldn’t even imagine how used to it he must have become to react so calmly.
“When did you… start fighting?”
“Let’s see. I think I was fourteen. My father sent me to the battlefield.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open. She had guessed that Frederick had been to war early on, but not that early.
“That’s… too much.”
“What is?”
“Fourteen. That’s just… too young.”
A boy that age is still so small. To put weapons in a child’s hands and make him kill people…
“There were too many things I had to protect, so I had no choice but to go early.”
“……”
“The enemy wouldn’t wait for me to grow up.”
Grace nodded slowly. Some of what Frederick said was hard to understand, like this.
“What were you doing then?”
“Huh?”
“You must have some stories from when you were fourteen too.”
“What kind of stories?”
She didn’t really know what he expected her to say.
“Just… what your life was like.”
“I didn’t really… have anything.”
Grace gave an awkward laugh.
“I just… couldn’t do anything. At all. Nothing…”
She couldn’t even remember what being fourteen felt like, or what she did at that age.
At the House of Reinhardt, she didn’t even know how time passed. She just lived each day hoping she wouldn’t be hurt or bullied.
“The people at Reinhardt… would have preferred if I didn’t exist. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t learn anything. That’s how I lived.”
“No one looked after you there?”
“Ah, no… there was a maid named Emily…”
Grace stared off into the distance.
“Emily… gave me food and a place to sleep. She raised me, almost like a mother.”
“You must have been close. Did you part ways when you left for here?”
“No. She died. She got sick… and no one helped her…”
Grace shook her head. Talking about Emily made her nose sting, and a lump formed in her throat.
“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.”
“N-No, it’s not that…”
Frederick gently offered her a way out, noticing her expression change, but Grace shook her head again.
“There’s something good about this place.”
“What is it?”
“If someone gets sick and I speak up, they don’t have to die. If I ask for help, someone always comes. I really like that.”
She remembered how she felt when Sally was sick—how proud it made her feel to see someone get treated because of her.
The feeling that she could help someone.
“From now on, everything you speak up about will be possible.”
“That would be wonderful.”
What made her happiest about life in this estate was that there were more and more things she could do. Good food, clothes, and jewels were nice, but none of that compared.
“Shall we go now? I think we’ve rested enough.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Frederick stood up, and Grace followed him to her feet.
Warm tea slid down her throat. Grace set her cup down and adjusted the fox curled up in her arms.
The fox purred softly and burrowed deeper into her embrace.
“Hey, little fox.”
She slowly ran her hand down the fox’s back and opened her mouth to speak.
“Do you think… killing someone is always bad?”
The fox looked up at her with round eyes.
‘Is there such a thing as good killing and bad killing?’
Frederick’s words from a few days ago echoed in her mind. His cynical expression had struck her as lonely, somehow.
He wasn’t the monster people accused him of being. He was someone who understood the weight of taking a life.
‘He’s a good person…’
It made her sad that he saw himself as bad, and that he didn’t care how others viewed him.
‘I wish he didn’t make that face.’
The sorrow in his expression looked like he carried all the burdens of the world. She had wanted to comfort him with something meaningful, something moving—but nothing had come to mind, and she regretted letting the moment pass.
“Oh… it’s time.”
Grace glanced at the grandfather clock and stood up. It was time to meet with Isaac and Hailey to talk about selling the prints.
“Stay safe, little fox.”
She lifted the fox and gave it a kiss on the forehead, then left for the studio.
“These are the prepared products, my lady.”
Isaac and Hailey greeted her at the workshop.
On one side of the room, the completed print plates were neatly stacked. On the other side, the printed artwork was framed and arranged in rows.
“We’ll display the remaining prints here in the workshop once production is complete. We expect to meet all the deadlines. Here’s the list of everything scheduled to be produced, and what’s finished so far.”
The document Isaac showed her listed the titles of the prints and the names of the artists, with checkmarks for plate production and print completion.
“These are the ones you made, my lady. They’re displayed over here.”
Isaac showed her the prints made using her own designs. Grace walked over and inspected them, checking the size and print quality, then nodded in approval.
“What’s that?”
Grace pointed to the papers Hailey was holding.
“This is the sales plan, my lady. Please take a look.”
