Common Family Problems
“Ugh, sob… peanuts, pfft, peanuts…!”
Ah, this is driving me mad.
A 'refined lady' never bursts out laughing in a public place like this.
The moment her true self peeked through the perfect mask she'd worn all along, a glint sparked in Victor's eyes.
Yes, he liked Ibel's face when she laughed like this.
Her acting was beyond reproach, but did she really need to keep it up until they were alone?
That wide grin as she wiped away tears, those trembling eyelashes, those parting lips were just so…
Victor swallowed the rest of the thought.
It was too embarrassing to even entertain in his mind.
“I-I'll eat well.”
“You really do like peanuts. I was afraid my memory might be wrong.”
“Just out of curiosity—what would you have done if I hated peanuts?”
Ibel asked brightly as she popped another peanut into her mouth.
He watched her crunch away happily, then shrugged with amusement.
“I'd have given them to the poor birds who failed at hunting. My own plight would have been just as pitiful.”
“Oh… heavens. There are too many to finish—let's scatter some for them.”
“Very well.”
“And we have to buy some beer to take along too. Peanuts demand beer. The birds won't know what they're missing, of course.”
Before long, birds flocked around them.
Once Victor confirmed that plenty of onlookers had glanced their way, he suggested they head back.
The objective had been more than achieved.
No one would ever know that today's secret goal had been 'make Ibel laugh.'
The next day, every newspaper in town seemed to conspire as they churned out extra editions.
The articles all trailed off in much the same way.
So, who is this mysterious lady?
Not even the gossip rags dared speculate recklessly. Victor Bayern's romantic history had always been impeccably clean.
“She wore a chaste yet elegant dress—likely from the capital's most renowned shop, Madam Rougien's… What in the world is going on?!”
The endlessly reprinted stories soon reached the distant Bayern ducal territory.
Genevieve Bayern, newspaper spread open as her hair was styled that morning, startled and fumbled for her glasses.
Reading every line meticulously left her dumbfounded.
She'd been relieved when he vanished without a word of his destination—surely off on some mission.
She'd assumed his promise not to leave the territory was just talk, or a lie.
“How dare he… dare bring in a mistress without telling me?”
Crunch, cruuunch.
Genevieve gnawed her nails until she tasted blood, finally stopping the vile habit. Fury boiled to the crown of her head with nowhere to vent.
“Ha! The nerve of him!”
Journalism thrived on exaggeration, after all.
The wilder the story, the better it sold.
So clearly, calling the mystery date his future duchess was pure overreach. Obviously.
Then why this gnawing anxiety?
The Bayern duchy was Genevieve's entire world.
Her childhood playground, infused with her parents' lingering presence everywhere she looked—nothing but familiar sights.
She managed the inner household from the place she belonged, just as her sister had.
With Seranna gone, it was her duty—she never doubted that.
Yet Victor's attitude on his last visit? No respect whatsoever for the tedious, grueling work of it all!
Fuming, Genevieve hurled the newspaper aside and stood.
Whoever she is, just try bringing her here. She's only after swallowing Bayern whole through Victor. I'll give her a piece of my mind.
A few minutes later, the butler approached the seething Genevieve.
“Lady Genevieve, about the donation for this sponsored exhibition—there's an issue. The amount you've specified is absurdly…”
“Oh, Willen. I'm feeling dizzy right now—I need to rest.”
“…It's morning.”
“A lady's dizziness can't be helped, you know that. Seems my neurosis is flaring up again. Take a look at this article.”
Willen, the butler who nagged endlessly over a few coins for days, was one of the people Genevieve despised most.
She shoved the newspaper at him and escaped to the garden to cool her head.
I'm hosting the sponsored exhibition—naturally my donation should be the largest. Bearing the Bayern name demands no less to save face.
How could they not understand that? It hurt.
I'm not doing anything harmful to the family.
Exhausted.
With a sigh, Genevieve tried to compose herself gazing at the flowers, preserving her pure spirit.
But then—
Splash!
“Kyaaah!”
Water poured from somewhere, drenching her to the bone.
The creepy cackle that followed made Genevieve tremble with rage.
“You! Damian!!! You again!”
Damian, giggling down at her from the railing, vanished headfirst through the gap.
Blood rushing to her head, Genevieve stomped upstairs.
As if to taunt her further, Damian hadn't fled far—the bucket sat innocently nearby.
“If only you didn't exist, everything would be so much better! You're the reason my condition keeps flaring up! I should have committed you to an asylum this time to cure that wicked habit!”
Victor usually overlooked her words, but this time he'd been unyieldingly firm. That coltish monster, feral sprite of a boy needed locking away!
What drove Genevieve mad was that Damian's madness never surfaced around Victor.
“Get over here, you pest! Everyone, catch him. If you don't, you'll all starve!”
Damian stuck out his tongue at the rampaging Genevieve before bolting—only to be swiftly caught by the servants trailing her.
“Aaaah! Uwaaaah!!!”
“Quiet!”
Slap!
Under the guise of discipline, Genevieve vented her fury with a slap across Damian's cheek. The venomous glare he shot her made her flinch.
It was always like this.
Seranna's trash left behind.
Gazing at this unnatural child stirred deep loathing and nausea from her gut.
“Fine, beasts only obey when starved.”
Meeting those flashing eyes, Genevieve smirked maliciously.
“Lock him in solitary. Water only for two days—no more. Let's see if you behave.”
“Aaaack!”
The dragged-off boy thrashed and screamed ferociously.
Victor would have been appalled to witness it himself…
But he's not here right now, is he?
Damian's poison-blue eyes glared daggers at Genevieve.
Fierce enough to startle her for a moment, but she soon shook her head dismissively, as if accustomed.
Next time Victor visited, she'd demand he increase her allowance.
Time flew by, marking the end of the first month.
Victor, who had briefly returned to the territory, arrived at the safe house with Colonel Konrad.
“For Your Excellency to marry… This old man still can't quite believe it.”
“You'll surely like her once you meet her, Colonel.”
“I'll follow orders, of course. Still… I'd like to become a good father-in-law. My wife is positively thrilled.”
Colonel Konrad von Eberstein, fifty-five this year, was a man with graying sideburns and a boar-like face.
Towering in height and build over others, his massive frame was pure muscle.
Even in middle age, he never skipped daily training, remained fair in all matters, and possessed a warm heart—earning respect in military circles and beyond.
The Eberstein family, to which Konrad belonged, had served as vassals to House Bayern for some three hundred years.
They managed the ducal family's secret residences and carried out special orders.
So when asked to 'take in one adopted daughter,' Konrad hadn't been particularly fazed.
Obeying orders was a soldier's duty, after all.
“My wife and I plan to welcome her as our second daughter. We've already prepared a bedroom—my wife's been nagging me relentlessly. She insists I find out her favorite color and type of flower this visit.”