Antagonized Bachelorette Enjoying a Simple Life - Chapter 13
After that, for some reason, the conversation turned to matters that felt off-limits for an outsider like her to overhear. The imperial family and the Papal Court were mentioned briefly, but Catherine deliberately let it slide past her ears. She had no desire to get swept up in some grand affair and end up as shrimp between whales.
Far better to head home and plan out what she'd do next. Productive, at least.
Come to think of it, I wonder what Sir Demian is up to right now. He wouldn't really be pulling weeds barehanded, would he?
No, they'd only met twice, but that man? It was entirely possible. Catherine set down her half-empty teacup.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I should head out. I'm worried Sir Demian might turn the garden into a barren field."
Spending peaceful time in this opulent mansion felt oddly unsettling. Chezare seemed to accept it without needing further explanation.
"Sir Demian does strike me as the type. None of the rumors I've heard about him are exactly ordinary, either."
Apparently, that knight's uniquely irritating side was well-known even among the nobility. Chezare nodded slightly and rose from his seat, offering his hand.
Was this a handshake? She took it, and he gently pulled her to her feet. Such a simple gesture, yet it sent an unexpected flutter deep in her chest.
"But why did you send him to me, anyway?"
Catherine walked leisurely as he led her out of the drawing room. Chezare glanced back to check on her before replying.
"He may seem a bit dim, but he's useful in his own way."
Dim wasn't quite right.
"So why send him to me?"
"Didn't you hear me? Because he's necessary and useful."
Chezare's unique conversational style had a knack for stirring up her dormant irritation. Whether he was deliberately hiding something or just poking at her on purpose, it left Catherine frustrated all the same.
"What's so useful about that frustrating, muscle-headed brown idiot?"
"Keep him around without losing him, and you'll find a use anywhere."
Before that happens, I'll chase him off myself.
Chezare's steps halted in front of a door not far down the hall. It was one of the most ornate in the splendidly decorated corridor, etched with intricate patterns.
"What's this room?"
"My bedroom."
What?
"Want me to give you a tour?"
Meeting Chezare's sly smile, Catherine suddenly understood why he'd been so evasive. He was clearly just teasing her for amusement. Push open that door, and it wouldn't be a bedroom—it'd be some basement or illusion. Given the magic he'd shown so far, it was obvious as water is wet.
"Pass."
She turned away sharply—and accidentally locked eyes with Gren. He immediately bowed deeply in farewell without hesitation. The maid who'd followed along did the same.
"Until next time, Miss Catherine."
"Miss! I'll be waiting! See you soon! Promise!"
For some reason, it felt embarrassingly awkward, so she couldn't muster a proper reply. Catherine hurriedly pushed open the door and left the grand mansion, which was peacefully serene in a way that didn't match its master.
"The staff here are really kind."
"Don't get your hopes up. No need to humor them one by one."
His words were cold, but he was surely a very humane employer. Otherwise, the butler and maid wouldn't wear such relaxed expressions. Of course, describing Chezare—whose true nature was that thing—as humane was a bit paradoxical.
Click.
The door shut, and damp darkness settled once more.
"He who possesses me shall rule the world."
A familiar voice echoed alongside it, casting shadows over Chezare's bright silver hair.
"You should memorize at least the titles of your precious books from now on. If you don't want to go through all this trouble again today."
"……You're right. I'll keep that in mind."
His exquisite features, sharp with deep shadows—Chezare's smiles and non-smiles differed vastly in warmth. She'd sensed an odd dissonance in his smile just days ago, but now it only felt brazen and infuriating.
Why was he going through all this for her sake?
"Chezare, can I ask you one thing?"
He gestured for her to go ahead and carefully released the hand he'd been holding.
"This magic circle. I'm just curious what it's for, since you treasure it so much."
"Treasure it?…… I never imagined I'd hear such a shocking impression."
"You don't?"
Unlike his usual composure, his brow actually furrowed unbecomingly this time.
"Well, not entirely wrong. But it's less 'treasured' and more like a bomb clutched to my chest. A highly, exceedingly, profoundly dangerous bomb."
His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, fixed on the magic circle below. He tapped it indifferently with his shoe's toe as he spoke.
"I'm worried idiots might set it off without knowing better, so I'd rather deal with the hassle myself."
"You're kinder than I thought."
He shrugged with an utterly absurd expression.
"First time for that evaluation. If Miss Panya thinks so."
Brushing past her shoulder, Chezare headed for the door. Suddenly, he paused with hand on the knob, back turned. Their eyes met, but no wordless exchange passed—just a brief, split-second silence.
In it, Catherine found herself speaking unbidden.
"……How do I call you when I need you?"
She regretted it instantly, her heart sinking. It sounded just like clinging to a parting lover.
"Do you need me, Miss Panya?"
His tone implied he'd misheard badly, and she blurted a hasty reply in panic.
"Wh-what if Sir Demian bolts in the dead of night?"
"He'll taste hell from my hands."
"That's why I need to tell you."
"I have ways to know without being told. You haven't forgotten I'm a rather impressive mage, have you?"
As if she could forget—his magic had let him travel between mansions on a whim just now! Catherine's reason for keeping Chezare around was simple: She didn't want the hassle of erasing magic circles like this whenever she needed him.
But if he asked why she needed him…
No good excuse came to mind.
"Got it. Now hurry back—I have work to do too."
Spouting nonsense like that just stirred up weird feelings. Chezare, who'd been staring at her steadily, suddenly tossed something her way.
A small golden key engraved with coral reefs.
"……What's this?"
Hmm. He chose his words carefully.
"You said you needed me. Use that key. Figure out how it works yourself."
The second silence was brief. With a creak of old hinges, Chezare vanished beyond the wooden door.
"Hm."
Use this? She scrutinized it front and back, but its purpose eluded her. Pocketing it for now, she climbed the stairs to the surface.
Catherine slotted Soul and Memory back into its place. The barely noticeable gap filled, bringing profound relief. With her mind at peace, it was time to find Demian and secure the mansion's tranquility.
She headed to the first-floor hall to check her mother's portrait—
"Ah, Miss! Where on earth have you been?!"
As if the mansion's ghost had haunted her in broad daylight, Roze came dashing from outside, latching onto her arm.
"What's wrong?"
"A rude visitor showed up. A terribly, awfully rude one!"
"Calm down. Who's here?"
As if rude visitors to my home are rare.
Roze thumped her chest, catching her breath.
"Fr-from the Papal Court."
"The Papal Court? What for?"
"Kept spouting nonsense, so I don't know exactly. But with swords at their sides, they looked like holy knights for sure!"
Damn. Catherine closed her eyes with a deep sigh, cursing the heavens that were always so harsh to her alone.
Of all the bad luck!
"I never imagined they'd be such unreasonable wall-tappers. They called this mansion a demon's lair and accused you and me of being demon spawn! If Demian hadn't been here, the place would've been trashed by now."
"……Got it. Wait here a sec."
First, sort out this latest chaotic mess. Why would a holy knight call our house a demon's lair? Probably the same goal as the imperial knights— that suspicious underground magic circle.
So how to handle openly hostile holy knights? Two cases: One, Percival among them. Two, no Percival.
Worst is the first. Catherine rummaged in the kitchen for a stored paper bag, flipped it over her head. She punched two eyeholes.
This way, at least that lunatic won't recognize my face.
"M-Miss? You're not going out like that, are you?"
No time to explain. Catherine strode to the firmly shut front gate.
Two elegant white four-wheeled carriages adorned with gleaming gold filigree. Three knights mounted side-by-side on white horses before them. One golden papal banner fluttering in the autumn breeze. And inside the gate, two holy knights facing off against a man in a straw hat.
……Wait, straw hat?
"Roze, what's with that getup?"
"D-Demian? He said he needed to pull weeds, so I lent it to him."
Demian, stripped of his armor and sporting a straw hat, exuded not a speck of imperial knight intimidation—like an ant's eyelash worth.
"You knew who he was when you lent it?"
"Huh? Isn't he the new gardener you hired, Miss?"
"……Yeah."
Fine. Too complicated to explain, so let's roll with that.
"Kyaaak, ptooey!"
Demian, leaning against the iron gate, spat toward the holy knights' feet beyond it.
"What're you staring at? First time seeing a gardener spit? Step one foot in, and I'll—"
Where'd an imperial knight pick up such thug lingo? The holy knight in gleaming white armor bellowed furiously at the provocation.
"Even Iterana's imperial knights are all dead! For the Black Lion to stoop to mere gardening…… As expected of baseborn scum—not worth a knight's pride. Filthy wretch without a shred of honor!"
"What's this clown mumbling about? Pride gonna block my fists? You ain't felt a punch that scrambles your brains with one hit, huh? If not, shut it."
A flicker of faint fear crossed Demian's face as he spoke. Must've hurt like hell getting smacked by Chezare.