A Daytime Nap
“My lady~!”
The maid’s flushed voice called out to her mistress. Emma had been tending the Viscountess’s hair, and as she ran her fingers through those clean, soft strands that flowed so smoothly, all she could think was how marvelous it was.
“How is it that you only grow younger with the years? And lately… you seem even more beautiful than before…”
Even more beautiful lately?
Darin stared blankly into the mirror.
All she had done recently was have sex with her son. What on earth was the girl talking about?
Had her son’s semen somehow worked as a beauty treatment?
Unlike Emma’s praise, Darin felt only disgust. The figure reflected in the glass was not the elegant Viscountess of Bayorn, but a mad, depraved woman who had shared her body with her own flesh-and-blood son.
“Sniff… sniff! Hmm? My lady, there’s a slightly fishy smell in the room?”
“……”
After their coupling, the bedroom and Darin’s clothes had been straightened by maids her son had hired—strangers she had never seen before. Even they, it seemed, had failed to erase the scent completely.
Of course, Darin’s own sense of smell had long since been numbed by the heat of their passion, so she had overlooked it as well.
Come to think of it, her son showed no real intention of covering every last trace. He might go through the motions of hiding it, but he acted as though it would not matter if they were discovered.
“Hmm? The more I smell it, the more pleasant it seems? There’s even a faint musk to it…”
At first Emma had thought nothing of it, but a growing puzzlement began to bloom across her face. She had breathed in her lady’s scent countless times. Yet the fragrance rising softly through the bedroom now felt… unfamiliar.
Darin, ever sensitive, could not fail to notice the shift in atmosphere. She lifted her head quickly and forced herself to sound as casual as possible.
“Kael stopped by the bedroom for a short while last night.”
“…Young Master Kael?”
“Yes. He went for a brief walk late at night and must have worked up a sweat. That’s probably why the smell lingered.”
“Mmm, but my lady… Young Master Kael didn’t sign the visitor’s log yesterday.”
“Oh, he just… hopped in through the window on his way past, I suppose? Heh, that child. At his age, still acting so spoiled.”
Darin realized, too late, that she had overacted far more than usual.
“Ahaha, well… Young Master Kael is completely devoted to you, after all.”
Fortunately, every servant in the household already knew how extreme the young lord’s attachment to his mother was. Emma nodded as though the explanation made perfect sense.
The crisis passed, and her simple grooming was finished. Just as she was about to go out—
“Ugh!”
Darin’s thigh seized in a sudden cramp. Her legs nearly gave way beneath her.
“My lady?!”
Emma darted forward and caught her mistress by the shoulders. Women of Bayorn were expected to know at least basic self-defense; Darin was simply of an unusually frail constitution. Emma and the other maids were rather agile by comparison.
“What’s wrong? Are you unwell somewhere?”
“…I walked more than usual yesterday. My legs must have cramped.”
Everything difficult today seemed to stem from her son. The cock that had mercilessly pounded her womb until dawn had left her barely able to walk.
“Wh-what should we do?”
“It’s not as though I have any particular schedule today, is it?”
She had already handed every family matter over to her son. The orange orchards would not wither if she left them for a day or two. The servants tended the trees every morning; she only needed to supervise.
Nor did the Viscountess engage in the social round of other noble ladies. Outside of household affairs, her days were rather monotonous.
Either she made love with her husband,
or she spent time with her children,
or she chatted with the retainers.
That was all.
“That’s true, but…”
So it would not have mattered if she did nothing at all. Yet Emma’s tone carried clear regret.
Lately she had wondered why her lady spent so much time shut away in her rooms. She had hoped to talk with her after so long, and now her mistress was about to retreat again—it felt a shame.
She had heard that the lady and the young master had quarreled, but that the steward’s mediation had settled it. And seeing that the young master had slipped into her rooms last night… it did not seem like a lie after all.
“……”
Darin understood Emma’s feelings well enough that she could not simply dismiss her. Those clear brown eyes looking up at her were somehow hard to turn away from.
To the Viscountess, the forlorn young girl looked as cute as a small animal. Of course Emma was much taller than she was, but the impression remained.
Looking too gloomy might only invite more suspicion.
Deep down, Darin wanted nothing more than to stay locked in her room and soothe her own heart. Yet some instinct lit a warning lamp, telling her not to.
While she still had any grip on her sanity, she should go out. She should look for a solution.
A sudden chill made her body tremble. A thin, watery fluid still seeped from between her thighs—remnants of semen, no doubt. The alien sensation nearly made her gag.
“…Th-then shall we walk in the garden for a while?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Staying cooped up in my rooms all the time can’t be good. I have a few things to gather—wait for me outside, would you?”
“Yes, my lady! Hehehe…”
The girl who had nearly cheered aloud managed to keep her dignity and answered with a soft laugh instead. Darin found her so endearing that she gently stroked her hair.
Emma was a year younger than her own daughter; she truly seemed like a child. And since she was exactly half Darin’s age, in this medieval-style world Emma was practically of a daughter’s generation.
—Click.
Even as she closed the door behind her, the maid sent her mistress a smiling glance. What a lovely girl. Darin was tormented nearly to death by her son Kael, yet because of people she loved—Emma among them—she could not simply throw her life away.
And what of Piel, who would return soon? Her own irresponsible death would only wound her family and retainers.
“Haa…”
So Darin swallowed her shame, spread her legs crudely, and wiped away the semen that had leaked out. Tears welled at how pathetic she looked doing it, but Emma was waiting. She had to pull herself together quickly.
Today she would spend a pleasant time with Emma and soothe her heart. And she would try, even a little, to think of how to persuade Kael.
If she did not move forward, what remained but to collapse where she stood?
She had too many precious things in her life to give up now.
—Click.
After changing her underthings, Darin went out on her outing, leaning on Emma’s arm.
The fluttering pure-white dress, and the smile the girl turned toward her maid, were the cleanest and most beautiful things in the world. Who would ever dare imagine that such a pure woman had shared her body with her own son?
Whether it was because she had taken her son’s seed, or because some strange cheat of orange-eating health had taken effect, the vermilion-haired woman’s figure was especially radiant today.
Servants of every age and gender stole irreverent glances at their lady. She had two children already of age, yet her beauty still far outshone the beauties of the capital. In that moment they understood all too clearly why their master, the Viscount of Bayorn, had refused to let her go.
It was a bright morning. Dazzling sunlight poured down near the mansion. Darin sat in an antique chair under a canopy and sipped her black tea.
“Shall I have a simple lunch prepared here?”
Darin nodded willingly. No matter how little appetite she had, after hours of her son buried between her legs she could not help feeling hungry.
Time passed. The only conversation was Emma’s soft, hesitant chatter—opening and closing her mouth in modest little remarks.
Still, with the sunlight that warmed the cold earth at her back, spending quiet time with her young companion, her heart settled a little.
Even in a small territory, this was the North; snow that the sun had not yet melted still lay thick. Beneath it, wildflowers that had endured the bitter cold were beginning to open, little by little.
I prefer a woman like a wildflower grown in the soil rather than a flower in a greenhouse.
Her still-sore sex twitched without warning. Even now the words her son had spoken rose in her mind, and Darin jerked her head away. In truth he had been saying things like that since he was small. Looking back, Kael’s words and actions had always been… off.
She was not stupid. Why had she never noticed? Perhaps she had simply wanted to see only the sides of her son she wished to see.
The bitter self-reproach rising in her chest was too heavy, so Darin stuffed cookies and tea into her mouth one after another, trying for a moment to become a complete idiot.
“My lady, before long Lady Piel will be visiting…”
She filled her stomach with dessert instead of a proper meal and emptied her mind. She spent idle time with the servant she favored. It was a rare, rain-like respite, and the Viscountess let Emma’s pleasant voice become a lullaby as drowsiness overtook her.
Someone had kept her from sleep for far too long, after all.
—Nod, nod.
The youthful vermilion-haired girl, surrounded by the flower garden, drifted into a doze. Even among the well-grown rose vines and pure white lilies, her beauty stood alone.
“…You must have been very tired.”
Once her mistress’s eyes closed, Emma fell silent as well. Lately her lady had seemed to have no appetite; it was a relief that she had at least taken tea and sweets.
Emma gazed at the sleeping face of her mistress with a flushed expression.
How could she look so young and so lovable? She personally respected the Viscount of Bayorn, and she knew full well that her lady was of common birth. Yet she truly felt it was a waste for the Viscountess.
Setting aside her origins, this woman who was perfect in every other way was never meant to marry into a mere viscount’s house. Even a provincial girl like Emma had that much discernment. She had visited the capital more times than her own master, after all.
“You’re far cuter than anyone, my lady.”
Irreverently, the maid could not hold back her affection and whispered it softly by her ear. Her mistress always treated her like a child and doted on her, yet the one who looked like a little sister was the Viscountess herself.
—Squeeze.
Emma gently took the hand of her mistress, who seemed lost in some unknown worry. She was only a servant, after all; she was not without sense. Her lady must be carrying some burden she could not speak of. There would be a reason she kept silent.
So a lowly maid could only pray toward the heavens.
Please… please hold and comfort her mistress’s heart.