The Little Monsters' Prank
The Bayern ducal family's brats, troublemakers, little monsters, rotten kids.
The twins had more vicious nicknames than actual names, and they were nine-year-old boys.
The eldest was Anselm, the youngest Damian.
The only way to tell the two apart—who were identical in face and height—was this: one was clever, the other a wild animal.
She had already learned about them through the aide, so Ibel wasn't surprised at all when the twins failed to come out for greetings.
"Hello, ma'am! Or, miss! I'm Eloi. I've heard so much about you from the head maid. Please take good care of me from now on!"
For now, the place where Ibel had decided to rest alone was her private bedroom. While the tall maid who introduced herself as Eloi busily unpacked her luggage, Ibel leaned against the window frame and gazed outside.
She felt the need to organize everything she'd seen on the way in from the entrance.
'Massive tapestries everywhere. Thick carpets on the floors... and every single window shut tight.'
Even if they cleaned as best they could, it seemed they hadn't reached the mold wedged in the stone cracks.
'Or maybe no one ordered them to clean there.'
In that short time, Ibel had checked the gaps between the lambrequins, the walls, the corners of the stairs, and more. She was dying to scrub it all clean.
Those things, she had to wipe them all away!
That mold!
But it could be seen as insulting the mansion, so Ibel hesitated.
How could she phrase it to encourage more thorough cleaning without offending anyone...
That was when it happened.
"!"
Clang!
The moment she sensed something aimed at her, her body reacted first.
The sound of shattering glass rang out violently, and shards rained down over her head.
Ibel's split-second judgment was extraordinary.
The maid frozen near the window, the breaking glass, the shards scattering everywhere, the danger—it all replayed slowly in her mind.
And then—
"Get down!"
"Kyaaak!"
Ibel's sharp shout ripped the curtain free as she threw herself over the maid and herself. The fabric was so thick and heavy that they tumbled in a heap, but in the end... no injuries. Probably.
'No smell of blood.'
Under the curtain, in the darkness, Ibel's eyes flashed fiercely.
It couldn't be helped, really.
Anyone who'd been to war, even for just a few years, couldn't stay the same as before.
As the long, deep scars etched in her mind flickered in her pupils, the maid, Eloi, shrank back in fear.
The refined, quiet lady had suddenly become truly, truly, truly terrifying.
But at the same time, her heart pounded wildly.
There was no question who had pulled this nasty prank. It had to be the young masters.
The servants were constantly caught up in their mischief, suffering minor scrapes as a daily routine.
'But... she protected me the moment she arrived. She could have just covered herself with the curtain and left me.'
Unaware of how moved Eloi was, Ibel tensed her whole body, scanning the surroundings like a wild beast. There might be another attack. Yes, this was an attack.
"Ibel!"
Somewhere, the smell of cannon fire. Her gut went cold, nerves on edge. Death seemed to loom before her again.
"You're safe, Ibel."
The familiar voice pulled her from flailing in the sudden surge of crimson war memories, dragging her back into the light.
A man she could trust, one she always had to trust, one it was okay to trust.
Glass crunched underfoot as the curtain was yanked away. Before she could look up at him, Ibel found herself enveloped in firm arms.
"It wasn't an attack."
How did he know?
His calm voice soothed her, and only then did Ibel realize she was trembling.
"You're safe, Ibel."
With a glance, Victor dismissed the maid, then glared outside while still holding Ibel.
A small head darted between the trees.
He had just been about to send the butler to round up the servants and capture Anselm. But to pull something like this...
He knew Anselm and Damian had driven off every tutor. But neither had ever gone this far.
Even so, leaving Ibel alone before catching Anselm was his oversight.
He sat on the bed with her in his arms, then knelt on one knee to meticulously check her condition.
No scrapes or cuts on her delicate skin? No glass shards embedded in her nape, ears, or ankles?
"I'll call a doctor from town. I'm sorry."
Pulling the curtain over them had been the right call. Otherwise, the maid or Ibel would surely have been hurt.
It was mortifying that this happened less than an hour after bringing her to what he thought was a safe estate. Anger toward Anselm surged alongside it.
The twins behaved when he was home, trying not to cause trouble, so he hadn't realized they were this uncontrollable.
Especially Anselm, not Damian.
Even if he hadn't known, this was his failure, his responsibility.
"Wait, Victor."
But as he started to rise, Ibel stopped him.
She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and slowly counted backward from ten. It helped. She felt steady again.
"Just a scare. No problem."
"There is a problem. Didn't it bring back bad memories?"
"No. I've survived falling shells—a slingshot's nothing. Really. So don't scold the kids right now."
Calm now and thinking straight, she realized it was a slingshot, not a shell.
Whatever they'd fired, it wasn't just a stone.
Plain hostility toward her.
But... they were just kids, weren't they?
She'd heard from aide Matthias multiple times that the Bayern twins wouldn't be easy.
She knew their relationship with the duke wasn't good.
"I apologize again. And I promise it won't happen twice, Ibel."
"Yes, you'd better promise that."
Ibel tugged up the corner of her mouth and met his deep gaze head-on. Worry and anger swirled visibly within it.
If he went to the kids like this, he'd tear into them. Their rift would only widen.
Not a good long-term choice.
Composed now, she looked at Victor and spoke.
"Don't catch Anselm. Let him come back on his own. If you must punish, grounding's fine. And let him apologize himself when he wants to."
Her mind clear, Ibel calmly assessed the situation.
She'd memorized the kids' personalities before coming. She'd even thought about how to handle them. Forcing an apology from clever Anselm now would be pointless.
"......"
Meanwhile, Victor found himself at a loss for words.
He thought he'd found the right person, but wondered how she could stay so composed.
Still, peering into her amber eyes, he could see her sincerity, so he nodded.
"Understood."
"And don't feel too sorry. You know I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, right?"
"That's... true."
As Ibel winked playfully, Victor's expression softened a touch.
"Remember what I did to that officer who grabbed my ass?"