Why Is She Nice?

Why?

The girl's name was Mary Yllain. She wasn't a full-blooded sibling, but on the family register she was, without question, Evan's younger sister.

In most novels where the protagonist is a noble, his family tends to take up a sizable share of the page count. This novel was different.

From the very beginning the stage of his activities wasn't the household, and Evan was an adventurer who traveled from city to city. In a story that barreled forward at breakneck speed day after day, there simply hadn't been room for his family to appear.

They were only mentioned now and then in Evan's recollections. Beyond that, their presence was nonexistent.

Yet from the resentment and fear packed into those brief descriptions, I could already guess the nature of the siblings' relationship. The fact that she was a half-sister only reinforced the sense of bad blood. That was why I paid no real mind to the glare the little sister was leveling at me.

"Hey, you!"

"Yes, young miss…"

"Who said you could stand around chatting?! Are you going to keep slacking off instead of working?"

"I-I'm sorry…"

He might have been a servant, but the man was an old gentleman five times her age. Jabbing a finger at an elder like that and barking orders wasn't just bad manners—it was rolling courtesy into soup and then flipping the whole table.

Noble daughter or not, she was already rotten. Or maybe she was just that clueless because she was still a kid?

Either way, it wasn't something that could be excused.

"…Hmph."

As I watched the scene with open displeasure, she turned her head away with a prim little sniff. She seemed to find the fact that our eyes had met utterly laughable.

Wow. I really want to give that kid a good forehead flick.

I don't make a habit of making little children cry, but this one I desperately wanted to reduce to tears—just once. No twisted motives. She was simply that irritating.

Later, if the chance came, I'd hand her candy, snatch it back, and plant a solid knuckle right between her eyes.

"What are you doing? Move already."

"Pardon?"

"Do I have to say everything twice? Get back to work! Don't stand around playing when you're being paid!"

Mary looked at the old butler, then jerked her chin toward the rear. The gesture clearly meant get out of here right now. Even I, just watching, felt my blood pressure spike—yet the old butler answered as if nothing were wrong.

He must have gone through this every single day and grown used to it.

"Ah, yes. Once I've shown Young Master to his room, I'll return to my duties. Excuse me."

"What are you talking about? Leave that guy here and you go alone."

"Pardon? But Young Master…"

Mary scrunched her face in pure disgust. No matter how hard she frowned, that babyish face still only looked like a child throwing a tantrum—yet the status that defined her existence sharpened even that shallow exterior into something cutting.

Then she threw words every bit as sharp as her eyes.

"Don't talk back! And stop calling him Young Master, Young Master! That thing is not our family!"

"Even so, the head of the house cares a great deal about Young Master…"

"I said don't talk back! I made myself perfectly clear! Are you looking down on me?"

"Ah—no, of course not."

That little shit was seriously pissing me off. Finger-pointing was the bare minimum; the way she spoke was practically begging to get smacked. Was I supposed to just stand here and take it? The Confucian sensibility buried inside me was screaming to put a knuckle on that kid's forehead.

Hoo. Calm down. I exhaled slowly, forcing the anger down as far as it would go, then called to her in the gentlest tone I could manage.

"Sorry, but I have something to discuss with this gentleman alone, so could you step aside? Keep bugging me and I'll give you a forehead flick."

"What?"

Mary's mouth fell open. She just stood there gaping as if she'd been hit by a truck. Had my voice been too casual? The gap with the old Evan must have been enormous.

"Y-you—what business is it of yours?! And I have something to say to you too!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

She snapped out of her daze in an instant and screeched like a cat with its fur standing on end.

"Alfred, leave! Oppa, you stay right here."

"Pass. I've got nothing to say to a brat who talks to adults like that."

"Th-that's not it! I was just worried you'd get scolded by Dad!"

"That was worrying? All you did was pile on lame excuses and chew him out. If that isn't forced, what is?"

"A-are you saying I'm the bad one? I-I was just worrying! If you don't believe me, ask him!"

Mary glared at Alfred and urged him on. Of course no words came back; the old butler only cleared his throat.

"He says it wasn't help."

"Ugh! What is your problem?! I even gave you cookies last time! You ungrateful little—!"

"Anyway, just go. If you're going to keep yapping."

"You leave! This is my house!"

"How is this your house? It's Father's house."

"Th-this…! No! It's my house! It's Dad's house, but it's my house too!"

"You just heard me and you're still going on about 'my house.' Are you a goldfish?"

"What…"

Arguing with her made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me feel like I was getting uglier by the second. How old was I supposed to be, trading verbal jabs with a little kid like this? The rising self-loathing almost made me stop.

"Auuugh! So annoying!"

Watching Mary hop up and down in a rage was so ridiculous that the playfulness that had cooled off flared right back up. It was exactly like the days I used to mess with my little cousin. Nostalgia hit me hard.

"You're the goldfish! I'm not ugly like you!"

"Why did faces suddenly come into this? 'Goldfish' is a metaphor for having a terrible memory—don't tell me you don't even know that? You really are a goldfish."

"I-I know! I just said you're ugly!"

"Sure. You're not exactly winning any beauty contests either."

"What? How dare you say that to me?! Apologize! Right now!"

"You apologize first. You started it by calling me ugly."

"Th-then we'll just pretend it never happened. I was wrong and you were wrong, so—"

"What are you talking about? You threw the first punch, so your fault is bigger."

"I… only said the truth. You—you're actually ugly, so it's fine."

"Says the girl who looks like a goldfish."

"Hey!!!"

Yeah. I really had lost my mind. The fact that teasing this clueless little brat was starting to be fun was all the proof I needed. But how could I not go crazy? That useless goddess bitch had stuck me with the exact same suffering all over again. Not going crazy would have been the crazier option.

"You're so annoying!!!"

"Oh? Informal speech? Come to think of it, you talked down to Alfred too. Don't you respect your elders?"

"N-no! And I'm a noble, so it's fine if I use informal speech!"

"Then is it fine to use informal speech with me—another noble who's also older than you? Isn't that a pretty serious offense?"

"I-I didn't use informal speech."

"Lying on top of it? Apologize twice."

"I really didn't…"

"There you go again with the informal."

She opened and closed her mouth, hesitating, then shook her head hard and poured out a stream of excuses. When I still refused to let her off, Mary chose flight. Even while running, that noisy mouth of hers never closed.

"I-I actually have nothing to say to Oppa either! A-and! I'm not happy to see Oppa at all! Even if you go back to those women I won't care! So hurry up and leave!"

"I was planning to leave even without you telling me."

"Wh-what?! No! Dad said you can't leave!"

She fled while hurling one last curse full of resentment. Only after she vanished did the hallway finally fall quiet.

…Fucking self-loathing.

I shifted my eyes just enough to check Alfred's face. He was watching Mary's retreating back with a look of pure pity. This old man really was a soft touch. Why was he fretting over the cheeky little brat who ordered him around like that?

Following Alfred's guidance, I arrived at the bedroom. He left me with instructions to rest here for the time being and then departed.

Originally I had planned to settle things with Evan's father immediately and walk out, but the situation wouldn't allow it.

What had he said again? According to Alfred, an imperial decree had been handed down to the family. The content concerned the unfortunate disappearances occurring along the southern trade route, and ordered an exploration of the labyrinth believed to be the root cause.

The Yllain knight family, which had sworn its loyalty to the empire, naturally obeyed, and preparations had already been underway for some time—together with the Lorentz family.

That was why people from House Lorentz were currently present in the mansion where I was staying. Since they would be traveling companions on the coming expedition, they were conducting joint training under that pretext.

No wonder everything felt so busy.

The head of House Yllain was joining the expedition as well. Because of that, he was practically living in the training grounds and, even at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this very moment, sparring with the knights.

More diligent than I expected. If it were me, I'd have dumped the work on the knights and gone off to play.

"Ugh. Timing really couldn't be worse."

Five hours had already passed since I arrived. The son had been waiting the entire time, yet the so-called father hadn't shown so much as a single strand of hair. At this point wasn't he basically telling me to leave? Or was it simply because I'd shown up during a hectic period?

Luck really was trash.

Who knows—this might be another of the goddess's schemes. Maybe she found my plan to freeload in comfort so irritating she decided to mess with me. She never could stand seeing me do well. After all the suffering I went through in my previous life, shouldn't she at least let me coast a little this time around?

I clicked my tongue in irritation and scratched my head.

"Tsk. At this rate, when the hell am I ever getting home?"

I didn't even know if she planned to send me back in the first place. Knowing the goddess I knew, she wouldn't release me until true peace had settled over the continent. And in the not-too-distant future, the Demon King—no, an existence even stronger—would gather the scattered demon tribes once more. Only after I killed that thing would she finally keep her promise.

"Fucking bitch."

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. From where I stood, that woman was a far more vicious existence than any Demon King. If I had the choice, I'd rather wring the goddess's neck than any demon's.

I was still trying to swallow the anger when—

—Knock knock.

A soft rapping reached my ears. Alfred? I called for him to come in through the door, but it didn't open. Feeling puzzled, I stood up. As I moved to open the door myself, something lying on the floor blocked my path.

"?"

It was a piece of paper. Next to it sat a prettily wrapped box of chocolates. I looked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down carefully, then reached out. Crooked handwriting covered the paper.

"…Hmm."

I closed my eyes once, opened them again, and reread the letter carefully. The words written on it hadn't changed.

No—why is she being nice?