Isolation
The wooden inn was hardly the sort of place nobles usually chose to stay, yet because it stood in the capital it was surprisingly clean and well-kept. Inside, handsome candles cast a soft glow that gave the rooms a quiet, almost cozy air—enough that even a noble might spend a single night here for a simple rest.
Where is Emma? Celine? Lepia?
The woman turning her head frantically about the place was, of course, Viscountess Darin. The moment she arrived she had meant to ask her maids to share the same lodgings. They would probably try to stop her, insisting it was no place for their noble mistress, but she had just sworn to herself that tonight she would dig in her heels and sleep beside them no matter what.
Where on earth has everyone gone…?
That was when the trouble began. The spacious inn, which ought to have been bustling, was unnaturally silent. The only soul present was the old woman who had handed over the key to the maids’ room—and even she had vanished the instant the key left her fingers.
Kael said he would stay here too…
Tonight her son was supposed to spend the night under this very roof. When his mother refused to lodge at the Hospitality, he had announced he would simply come here with her. That stubbornness only deepened Darin’s unease. Custom forbade any man but a husband from entering a lady’s private chamber, yet Kael would surely force the door open under the excuse of being her son.
Should I wander outside? Or find another inn right now? But the servants are carrying all the money…
A noblewoman never carried a purse; in high society it was considered vulgar. It was not merely Darin’s own belief—every servant around her shared it. Out of pure loyalty they had even stopped their mistress when she tried to sew a crude little pocket into her lining, begging her not to keep a wallet on her person.
How she regretted respecting their wishes now. There was a tiny emergency pouch sewn into the hem, but all it held was pepper powder for fending off ruffians.
What do I do…? Should I just sleep outside? Yes—better that than risk something happening with my son.
Anxiety twisting her face, Darin stared out the window and weighed every desperate option. She was ready to choose the most extreme escape—
—when a merciless god decided even that path would be closed.
A sudden downpour began to fall. Winter was almost upon them; the rain felt utterly out of place.
Thunder soon rolled through the once-quiet inn. Hail-like sheets of water hammered down, sealing Darin’s isolation tighter still. Whatever might happen inside these walls would be perfectly hidden beneath the roar of the storm.
Murder, theft… or a son in heat forcing himself on his own mother…
The rain was so fierce that even knowing this, Darin could not bring herself to step outside. Wandering about in this cold, soaked to the bone, would be pure madness.
“Haa…”
A sigh that was almost a lament slipped between the girl’s lips. Staying obediently in the room when her son might visit felt like the greater madness.
If that situation ever came to pass, titles and rank would mean nothing—the natural order itself would shatter. For Darin, who had fallen into this world with nothing, family was the only fence she had, and it was more precious than anything else.
“Kael… Kael… hic!”
So she forced herself to ignore the thunder, pushed open the inn door, and resolved to sleep outdoors. She still did not understand why her son harbored such filthy thoughts toward her, but if he ever acted on them his entire future would be ruined—and that thought terrified her more than anything.
Darin was a mother gentle to the point of self-destruction. Even now her own safety mattered far less than her son’s bright path ahead.
Viscountess.
That empty title meant nothing. She had never been happy because she was a noble lady; she had been happy because she was Kael and Piel’s mother. She would rather die than become the insane whore who took her own son’s cock.
The downpour was fierce, yet if she sheltered under a tree she would not freeze to death. With that firm resolve the girl set her trembling hands against the thick wooden door and began to push.
—Creeeak…
She swallowed her choked sobs and steeled herself for the rain—
“Huk!?”
—only to find a massive figure blocking the doorway. She toppled backward in an undignified heap, landing hard on her backside.
“Mother, where are you rushing off to in such a hurry? It’s pouring outside…”
The giant was Kael, suddenly transformed into the perfect filial son. Concern dripped from every gentle word; he helped his fallen mother up with tender care. Not a trace remained of the ugly demon from earlier.
His calm composure was so complete that Darin almost wondered whether the café incident had been nothing but a dream.
“I-I was just going for a short walk…?”
“Haha, your jokes are a little much. A walk in this weather? The rain will stop by morning. It would be better if you went out with your son then.”
“What about the others?”
“The servants had separate business, so they are lodging elsewhere. Mother, please rest easy and return to your room for a good night’s sleep.”
Separate business? Lodging elsewhere? The excuse was paper-thin—an open provocation aimed straight at his mother. No matter what you know, no matter how you refuse me, you will not leave this place tonight…
“……”
Exhausted, Darin no longer had the strength to argue. Provoking her son’s temper might only make the coming disaster worse, so she chose to avoid friction for now.
“…All right.”
She answered in a single word and climbed the stairs slowly toward her room. Once a man of Kael’s size had arrived, there was nothing left she could do. The face that had met her at the door had looked kind, yet the ice-blue eyes behind it burned with the absolute refusal to compromise with his mother.
Finding the room was easy. Among the long row of doors, only one stood blatantly open.
She hurried inside, desperate for even a moment’s breath, and immediately tried to lock the door—only for another problem to appear.
“Th-there’s no lock!?”
The shock was so great the thought burst from her lips. And no wonder: the handle and lock had been crudely ripped away, as though some great bear or tiger had torn them free with raw strength.
Only two people around Darin possessed such monstrous power—her husband, Viscount Bayorn, and her war-hero son Kael. Her husband was away on campaign; he could not be here. Which left only the obvious answer…
“Aaaah…”
She swallowed her grief and peered into the corridor, hoping another room might be free. She hurried from door to door—
—click, click.
Every other door was firmly locked. The only key she held opened nothing but the maids’ chamber with its dangling, broken door. That was the sole place permitted to her.
Thud, thud. Strength drained from her limbs, the mother had no choice but to return to the bedroom. She was too afraid of meeting her son outside.
When you go to bed tonight, leave the door open. That “little child” you spoke of will let me know.
Her son’s earlier, filthy words circled endlessly through the Viscountess’s mind. From the very beginning Kael had never given her a choice. He wrecked the lock and then told her to leave the door open if she wished? A contemptible little game.
…Oranges?
Through her trembling vision a simple basket came into focus. Inside lay a heap of the citrus fruits Darin loved most.
Even in her chaos, the sight of the bright orange fruit soothed her a little. Whenever stress became unbearable she chewed citrus; she had done so ever since the night her husband first forced himself on her under the name of “marital duty.”
She knew exactly who had brought them. Her personal maid Emma, certain her mistress would crave oranges, had packed them specially.
—Squeeze.
Once she was sure they were safe, she snatched up a mandarin and an orange. She had not even managed tea today; thirst burned in her throat.
—Munch, munch, munch.
She peeled and ate until her fingers turned yellow, cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s. The sight was almost too cute for her age.
Curled on the bedding, the girl made the citrus vanish at astonishing speed. The stress of becoming “Lady Mandarin Orange” overnight was clearly crushing her.
“Nom, nom…”
Even after bearing two children her baby fat had never left her cheeks; they remained round and soft. Her second child, Piel, was already twenty, yet when they traveled to remote places people still mistook Darin for the younger sister—she looked that much like a fragile girl.
It’s delicious… it’s delicious…
She ought to have felt happy eating her favorite fruit, yet only a bottomless despair, dark as an abyss, filled her.
“Heh… hehe…”
Her mouth, still chewing, curved into a smile, but the eyes above it filled with a rainstorm just like the one outside. She was exhausted yet could not sleep—afraid that the moment she closed her eyes her son would burst in. Trapped in a situation that threatened to drive her mad, the mother could only sit and chew oranges with quiet, heartbreaking sorrow.
And that night—
the uninvited midnight visitor arrived exactly as the disaster had been foretold.