How Much Did You Look Into Before Coming? - 6
The name of House Hiden is no light thing. Bestowed the rank of Imperial Count by the second emperor, Eimanka II, they have lived for nearly three hundred years as the shield of the emperor and the imperial house. They dwelt in Livnoman’s shadow for the sake of heaven’s mandate, and surrendered every glory to their sole master, Livnoman. That is the pride of House Hiden. That is their boast.
From the moment I was born the first child of that house, three centuries of pride and dignity were laid upon my shoulders. I never imagined I would also be the last.
“I’m placing a heavy burden on you.”
Father would sometimes stroke my hair and say so. The name of Imperial Count is a weight the eldest must carry, but younger siblings can still stand beside the head of the house and help. I, however, am alone. No elder brother or sister to trust and follow. No younger ones to cheer me on. Alone.
Even so, I never let it show. If I looked weak, Father would grieve all the more, and the retainers would grow restless. Those who held House Hiden in contempt would begin to scheme. So I had to appear always composed, always cold and clear-eyed. It was the duty of one who had taken the name of Hiden and lived a life of peace.
That is why, at first, I disliked Erich. Just a very, very little.
“These are the children of House Crassius. The older boy is two years your senior; the younger, two years your junior. How curious.”
At a social gathering where Imperial Count houses mingled, it was nothing strange for the heirs who would one day lead those houses to meet. The head of House Crassius had been close to Father since childhood, so they were the first family introduced to us. That a parents’ friendship should pass to their children was only natural.
With Karl I exchanged ordinary greetings. He gave every impression of having come out of pure obligation, and I, knowing the weight already settled on his shoulders, was content to leave it at that. No need to trouble someone who shared the same lot.
“Hello, Noona!”
Erich, though, was different. Bright where Karl was reserved, lively rather than formal. When he called me Noona without a second thought, I was rather startled.
After the surprise came irritation. First children like Karl and me had heavy loads to bear, and here was a little brother who understood nothing, making a nuisance of himself. You can smile like that because you enjoy only the rights and none of the duties.
Of course it was nonsense. I was far too young then; once I had grown a little older, the memory of that thought made me burn with shame. As if a noble could ever be free of duty. And even if he were, that would be no reason to hate Erich.
“Do you practice swordsmanship too, Noona? My brother and I do.”
“Wow, you ride so well! Think I could ride like you someday?”
“This is a present! Cheesecake! Our chef makes these really well!”
At the time, though, I knew nothing of shame. So I kept Erich at a distance—and yet, no matter how hard I pushed him away, he simply came back as if nothing had happened.
Karl, the fellow heir, never seemed inclined to leave the Tailglehen county lands at all, yet Erich would cheerfully come all the way to the Horfelt county estate and act as if we were the best of friends. Looking back now, I can only be grateful.
“Noona, what are you doing?”
“Breathing.”
Truly grateful. I made no secret of how tiresome I found him, and still he never came to dislike me.
So it went: Erich visiting with stubborn persistence, me shoving him away without mercy. That strange relationship changed over something utterly trivial.
A child with little gift for the martial arts tries to make up for talent with effort, reaches her limit at last, and falls into despair. A child who cannot live up to a father famous for the sword sinks into fear and weeps. How small and ordinary a story is that?
It might have ended there, quietly, if Erich had not arrived that day as he always did.
“My nanny says high-ranking people don’t have to be good at everything. Just showing that you don’t give up and that you keep improving is enough for people to respect you and follow you.”
“When I look at my brother and you, Noona, you both seem amazing! I could never manage that.”
Honestly, the words were not especially helpful. They sounded like an admission that my talent ended there—that I should simply accept it.
And yet, somehow, hearing them eased my heart. A road that had seemed endless finally appeared to have an end; a path scorched by merciless sun suddenly offered a little shade.
“If I’m not enough, the retainers grow uneasy.”
So for the first time I spoke aloud the anxiety I had kept locked inside. It was not something one ought to say to a child younger than oneself, but I wanted to say it.
“Then the nobles can help each other without the retainers knowing. I’ll tell my brother and ask him to help you, Noona!”
I laughed before I could stop myself. The retainers, at least, were under my command; other nobles were equals, and in front of equals one could never afford to look weak.
Still, I did not point that out. For the first time I simply smiled at Erich and opened my mouth.
“Could you help me instead of Karl?”
“Sure! You’re my friend, Noona! I’ll stay by your side and help you for life!”
The words made my heart race. Of course I knew they were the light promise of a child. I have no intention of basely holding him to that declaration and forcing a marriage.
What matters is only this: those words freed me from the life I had bound myself into, and I fell for a boy younger than myself. It is a precious memory I keep for myself alone.
Holding that memory close, I worked to become not the Noona who needed Erich’s help, but a splendid, confident Noona he could be proud of—and yet—
“Good day, Countess. You’ve come again today?”
I had finally grown into that Noona, or so I believed. So why was something so grating standing at Erich’s side?
“It’s Erich’s booth. We ought to boost the sales. It’s not as if we’re strangers.”
I answered the unwelcome arrival with a faint smile, and the little blonde, Sera, narrowed her eyes.
Insolent. A chick like that can scowl all she likes; it changes nothing.
…A mere baronial house.
I tried to ignore the chick before me, but the truth was that her baronial rank was no weakness at all—it was poison aimed straight at me.
If the chick bowed her head, I was prepared to accept her as one of Erich’s wives. A victor can afford that much generosity. But if I lost, it was over. The moment a baronial young lady became Erich’s first wife, I would have to renounce him entirely.
So I could not retreat. Unlike her, who still had a future even in defeat, for me a single loss meant death.
I will not lose.
The nanny’s daughter? A childhood friend? I am Erich’s childhood friend as well. My father is close to his father too.
The conditions are the same. No—I am overwhelmingly ahead. Compared to a girl who spent her days lying in bed, I have built connections in every direction and inherited the rank of Imperial Count. My body lacks for nothing.
Erich need only come to me. Then I can give him a life that lacks for nothing as well.
And what can you offer him?
A frail young lady. The daughter of House Trimara, a baronial house that serves House Crassius. You are the one who needs Erich’s care—what, exactly, can you do for him?
Of course I am not saying that because your house is lesser, because you can offer nothing, you should simply disappear. Love is not a ruthless transaction; it is a symbiotic bond in which simply being together is happiness.
“You two seem so close. Anyone watching would think you were siblings.”
“I wonder. Erich and I don’t really look alike. You two look more like brother and sister.”
All that matters is the virtue of yielding gracefully when a superior rival appears.
They’re at it again.
Maybe I should come back later.
I had barely returned from meeting Margeta when the urge to moonwalk straight back out seized me. Sera and the Countess of Horfelt were locking eyes—smiles on their faces, nothing smiling in their gazes—while Erich sat wedged between them, placidly chewing cake as if none of it concerned him.
Everyone else in the club was holding their breath, and he was enjoying dessert. Was that kid’s stomach made of steel, or his head? Looking at his recent track record, I was leaning toward the latter.
“O-Oh, Oppa. You’re here?”
Just as the moonwalk impulse was about to overpower reason, Luise—who had been huddled in the corner trembling—came rushing over in a panic.
The desperation in her face, as if she had just spotted an oasis in the desert, made me nod quietly. So much for escaping.
I’ll have to break this up.
One look at Luise’s fear and I reached the unavoidable conclusion. Catfi—well, I wasn’t sure I could even call it a catfight, but I had to end this war without gunfire before Luise remembered how to breathe.
In truth, the two of them did tone it down somewhat in front of me, their prospective uncle-in-law, so they would probably restrain themselves in front of Luise, their prospective sister-in-law, as well. By that logic Luise had no reason to be afraid—except.
If only she weren’t his first love.
Unfortunately, while my fiancée was still a prospective sister-in-law to them, the title of “my man’s first love” was very much present tense.
So whenever those two clashed, Luise got spooked in advance and hid in a corner; once the prospective sister-in-law vanished from view, the two of them only argued more fiercely… A hideous vicious cycle.
Damn brat.
I glared at Erich, who was still working through his cake. In the end this was all his fault for bewitching them both, his fault for getting bewitched and then losing every shred of social awareness, his fault for falling for Luise and getting dumped. A miraculous grand slam.
…Still, I should be thankful it hadn’t come to actual physical violence yet.
I decided to plant myself at the booth like a totem for the rest of the fair. The other club members seemed quietly glad of it too. For people who had been running their own peaceful, hopeless little romance races, watching a full-blown war of words was enough to make anyone nervous.
At least the Demon Duke paid no attention to whether a pack of much younger children fought or not—which also meant she was far too old to step in and stop them for me. Having a woman past one hundred twenty intervening in a quarrel between people who were now twenty and eighteen would have been a bit much.
Please just end.
So I prayed with genuine fervor. Please, let this fair end even a single day sooner.
I would have welcomed a typhoon or a hailstorm—anything that forced an early close.