Uprooting Neglect
“Y-you…! We’re not even married yet, and who knows where you crawled out from!”
Genevieve was out of her mind.
Cecily Bethel, having suffered such humiliation, might change her mind and refuse to provide the money. Then Genevieve would face tremendous embarrassment.
And that wasn’t all.
Her lovers, who were counting on the sponsored exhibition!
If the promise to sell their paintings and sculptures at high prices fell through? Those young, beautiful ones would undoubtedly leave without a backward glance.
No, that can’t happen.
Cecily Bethel had clearly been deeply offended just moments ago.
Genevieve had planned to drag Damian over, give him a few slaps, and call it done. But Ibel had suddenly intervened, blowing the whole thing up!
Ibel said nothing. Strangely, that made Genevieve’s breathing steady first.
Then, with contempt laced in her voice, Ibel tossed out a single remark.
“How rude.”
“!”
Genevieve flinched back, her face flushing crimson.
It was a short, concise sentence. Not an insult, not pushing her into a corner.
But Genevieve understood its meaning immediately.
In noble speech, calling someone “rude” meant “a pathetic wretch not even worth associating with.”
And above all, one could only say such a thing to an equal—or from a superior to an inferior.
“Y-you…!”
Humiliation choked her words.
She couldn’t control her emotions.
This Ibel, so eerily like that damned Victor Bayern.
Those eyes that made a person feel infinitesimally small!
Nothing about her pleased Genevieve.
“Then I take it you have nothing more to say. I’ll have to report this incident to His Grace.”
Ibel left without so much as a bow, her expression impassive. She shielded Damian protectively from Genevieve as she went.
Do I look like some monster to her? She’s the monster—why should I suffer like this?
Left alone, Genevieve trembled with secondary humiliation as the underlings slunk away from her.
Of course, she felt no remorse. If anything, she hated Ibel all the more for making her feel shame, even briefly.
Genevieve hated feeling diminished.
Ibel had made her feel utterly worthless.
A wounded pride didn’t heal easily. If she had money, she could splurge and bask in superiority, but there was nothing she could do.
Because Victor was protecting Ibel.
Just you wait. I won’t let this slide.
And Genevieve’s reaction was exactly as Ibel had maneuvered it to be.
“What snacks does Damian like?”
In the twins’ bedroom.
Ibel summoned the maids assigned to the children and asked. They all exchanged uneasy glances.
Rather than press, Ibel waited patiently, persistently.
Finally, sensing they couldn’t dodge it, one maid stepped forward cautiously.
“Um… probably apple pie, ma’am.”
“Probably?”
Ibel raised an eyebrow, and the maid shrank back immediately.
“I-I mean, he eats whatever snack we give him well enough! He’s not really a picky eater!”
“What foods does he hate? Spices he avoids? Anything he particularly struggles to eat?”
“Th-that’s… well…”
They all looked flustered, none able to give a proper answer.
Good thing I told Victor I’d take full authority over the children.
Ibel pressed her forehead, then turned to the head maid waiting at her side, old Banya.
“What do you think?”
At that moment—
Damian, who had been lounging on the sofa fiddling with wooden blocks, suddenly sprang up. He ran to Banya and reached out his hand.
The child’s hand touched the wrinkled back of the old woman’s hand.
And then—
Pat pat. Pat pat.
After a few strokes, the boy turned to Ibel triumphantly, puffing out his chest.
It was a message stronger than words.
“Don’t scold Banya?”
Nod.
“She must’ve stood up for you before.”
Nod nod!
He’d only watched when she’d fired other servants, but now he stepped in when Banya seemed at risk.
Ibel smiled softly and stroked Damian’s head.
“Right. So Damian’s smart enough to understand everything the grown-ups say, huh?”
“……?”
“Of course. Twins can’t have just one smart one.”
Abel and Ibel.
Even they were like that.
Abel was brilliant too. The problem was it was all channeled into bad habits.
Damian, caught off guard by her reaction, blinked blankly.
Ibel swallowed a silent sigh and casually suggested, her face nonchalant.
“Then, Damian. Why don’t you tell me yourself what snack you like? I’ll give you your favorite.”
After a moment’s thought, the boy’s eyes sparkled as he curved his arms into circles.
“Pie?”
Nod nod.
“Meat pie. Blueberry pie. Sweet potato pie. Apple… right, sweet potato.”
The maids watched in awe as Ibel communicated with Damian.
Having a “conversation” with the second young master like that.
No—more than that, he looked so composed?
He’d seemed a bit better lately, but still untamed. Yet here she was, handling him effortlessly. Even understanding his every gesture.
“I’ll have the kitchen send up sweet potato pie.”
Banya, who’d been watching, spoke politely, and Ibel nodded lightly.
Then she turned to them all, her voice turning icy.
“From what I’ve been told, you’ve all worked here about five years. Hired by the aunt, tending the twins from the start. And you still don’t know your young masters’ tastes?”
Honestly, some maids had seen Ibel as soft.
She always wore a faint smile, her tone gentle.
And she’d even let them take extra gifts for birthdays.
She had backbone, sure—but that was separate from being scary.
But in this moment, they realized they’d been completely wrong.
“P-please forgive us…! Don’t fire us…!”
It started with a young maid’s panicked cry, and soon they were all pleading desperately.
“We’ll do better! We’re sorry!”
“Please, just once, ma’am!”
They clung on too late, but Ibel’s impassive face showed no flicker of emotion. It was impossible to tell if she was even listening.
Finally, her cold words sliced the air.
“Don’t you think begging now looks less like remorse and more like calculation?”
“!”
“Pack your things and go to the entrance. You have thirty minutes.”
The maids assigned to the twins could only leave in tears.
Praying desperately not to lose this good job.
I had to overturn the household once. No helping it.
Ibel’s heart wasn’t light either.
They’d suffered because of Damian too, no doubt.
But I have to cut them out. So Genevieve can’t lay a hand on the children anymore.
As Ibel sat on the sofa, Damian toddled after her and flopped beside her. Bored, he poked at her thigh.
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind, but since it was all for Damian, Ibel mustered her strength once more.
Well, not enough to stand—she just opened the book beside her.
“I have to discipline them, but I doubt it’ll change them… Fine, I’ll read you a book, Damian.”
Damian stared blankly at her words.
He didn’t seem to know what a book was.
Or maybe why she’d read one to him.
“Books have lots of stories. You’ll have to figure things out yourself to change.”
The priority was chasing out those who’d abused Damian.
He’s a sharp kid. Approach slowly, win his heart, teach him gently.