Notorious No More, page 4
But today...today, something was different. Her gaze wavered. A flicker of hesitation.
“Yes... But that’s not quite—”
Before she could finish, Sienna cut in, gripping my arm and pushing insistently at my back.
“Brother! She’s already returned home! She’s in the annex! You must go to her immediately and demand that she take back her words and apologize!”
She spoke urgently—perhaps even desperately.
“H-Hey! I still have work to do...” I said. In the end, though, I relented with a sigh. “Very well. I will speak with Laviange. But, Sienna, do not think I will pretend to be oblivious forever. I am well aware of what transpired in the courtyard before your entrance to the Academy. There are matters in your conduct that require correction as well.”
She stared at me, stunned. It might have been the first time I had ever reprimanded her so directly.
“Regardless, I will hear Laviange’s side of the story,” I told her.
“B-Brother?!”
Ignoring my now visibly flustered foster sister, I took my leave.
※※※※
Back in my log house, I busied myself with preparations for tomorrow while indulging in idle musings about how best to make use of the compensation I would soon collect from my “grandson.”
Then I heard a knock at the door. A rare occurrence. For courtesy’s sake, I asked who it was.
“It’s me.”
Hm. That sounded suspiciously like one of those scams from my past life—you know, the ones where an unscrupulous individual would call unsuspecting victims, claiming to be a relative in distress.
“And which ‘me’ might you be?”
I heard a click of the tongue. “Your brother, Mihail Robur.”
My, my, how impatient. He always told me not to refer to him as brother, yet here he was saying it himself. How busy he must have been, going back and forth like that.
“The door is open,” I said.
The door swung open to reveal my brother, who looked distinctly displeased. “Why is it unlocked?” he asked.
“It was broken, I’m afraid. Please, take a seat,” I said, gesturing toward the only table in the log house. However, he remained standing, his almond eyes widening ever so slightly.
“Broken? By whom? Surely, you aren’t telling me that a thief managed to infiltrate the Robur estate.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, nothing so dramatic. Someone happened to violently throw the door open—and then violently slam it shut. And, well...it simply couldn’t withstand such treatment.”
A shame, truly. But hardly a pressing concern. I stored most of my valuables safely in a pocket dimension, after all. I also used magic to secure my bath and dressing areas, and given that no one usually approached this place, I had little reason to worry about leaving the door unlocked.
Besides, as a precaution, most of the items here were enchanted—either with a spell to return them to me should they be taken, or with a mending spell should they break—with the exception of the door and a few dishes. The only things I’d left unenchanted were those tied to a certain someone—because dealing with the aftermath would be far too troublesome.
Still, I had noticed that my enchantments had been activating less frequently as of late. I wondered why.
“Are you telling me Sienna broke it?”
Now, now. The servants wouldn’t dare behave so boorishly in a noble lady’s quarters, and our parents had never once set foot here. If he was already saying her name, then surely he already knew the answer.
“Perhaps it was simple wear and tear,” I said. “The poor thing has endured a lot of rough treatment, after all. It merely broke a little sooner than expected. But I have already informed the manor staff, so I imagine mother will hear of it soon enough.”
Not that I expected her to do anything about it.
“Fine, I won’t ask any more about it,” he sighed. “More importantly, why are you here in the first place?”
“Oh my, have you forgotten? Was it not you and mother, dear brother, who declared that I was to live separately as punishment for tormenting Sienna? That was right after she arrived, wasn’t it?”
“Wait. You mean you’ve been living here ever since?!”
Oh dear. Why was he surprised at me doing something he told to me to do?
“Why, yes. I was told to remain here until the two of you saw fit to permit me otherwise,” I reminded him. “Not long after that, I believe Sienna was given permission by mother to take my former room. I hear she now uses it for storage.”
He clicked his tongue again. “Why didn’t you bring this up at a dinner party? If you had simply set aside your stubbornness and refused—”
“My goodness, are you implying this is my fault?”
“Are you suggesting it’s mine?” he shot back.
What a bother. I hadn’t paid my brother much thought, yet somehow, he assumed I’d been blaming him all this time. And here he was getting agitated.
“I don’t recall saying anything of the sort,” I said.
“You always do this...”
I offered him my usual ladylike smile. He glared in return, clearly irritated. Ah. He must have been in his rebellious teenage years.
“Brother, you’re not to blame for this,” I told him. “It’s simply a matter of hormonal balance and instinct.”
“What nonsense are you spouting?! What is this ‘hormonal’?!”
Oh, right. That concept didn’t exist in this world, did it? A pity. To be precise, it referred to the biological substances secreted during puberty that could lead to increased aggression. Or, more notably, the instinct that compelled one to avoid viewing blood relatives as romantic prospects upon reaching sexual maturity. Of course, I was unsure how accurate that theory truly was. But explaining all of that would be far too troublesome.
I chuckled. “Think nothing of it.” I waved my uninjured hand. “I am merely delighted to see that you are growing into a fine, healthy young man.”
“Why are you looking at me like some indulgent grandmother doting on her grandchild?”
Oh, dear. Had I let something slip? It wouldn’t do for him to suspect anything.
“I assure you, brother, it wounds me to be regarded with such distaste,” I said. I attempted to change topics. “But rather than discussing my expression, shouldn’t we address the reason for your visit?”
“You’re the one making strange expressions,” he muttered. But he thankfully took my invitation to switch back to the reason for his visit. He scowled. “Now, is it true that you demanded compensation from the second prince?”
Such defiance. So very typical of someone in their rebellious phase.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped.
“Ah, my apologies. A mere slip.”
But how could I help it? It reminded me of my sons’ teenage years. Oh, the trauma of hearing “stupid old hag” for the first time. And since they were identical twins, their rebellious phases had been perfectly in sync. I had nearly cried. No, I had cried. My husband and daughter had to console me while I endured it. A fond memory now, of course.
Now, what had he said about “compensation”?
“Yes, I did,” I confirmed.
“Why?”
Huh? Why? I blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. What a peculiar question. Shouldn’t I have been the one asking that? And he hadn’t even let me finish my sentence. “Because he twisted my arm, of course.”
“That’s all?” His expression darkened. “And what will you do if this finally leads to your engagement being annulled?”
“Nothing in particular.”
His scowl deepened further. Ah. Could it be? Was he what the kids called salty? Source: My granddaughter had been really into Gen Z slang in middle school.
“Enough of this foolishness! Why can’t you be more mindful of your position?!”
Oh dear. It seemed he had reached the final stage of his anger evolution.
I smiled calmly at him. “There’s no problem at all, brother.”
“What? That is not for you to decide!” How troublesome. He was so heated now that even my most pleasant smile did nothing to quell his fury. “If you have grievances, bring them to me instead of confronting the prince directly!” he said, stepping toward me. “Do you never think before you act? If this continues, your engagement will be annulled!”
“Indeed, you may be right. But we are hardly close enough to discuss such matters, are we?”
He was quiet for a moment. His jaw clenched. “Damn it.”
My, my. Such language. Hardly becoming of a noble.
Ever since our childhood, we had been pushed to embrace the expectations of nobility. At some point, education stopped being encouraged and started being enforced. That was when the distance between us naturally grew. And then, our dear foster sister arrived, and that distance had become insurmountable. He became more irritable whenever he saw me, and I accepted it because that was simply what it meant to be a noble.
I suppressed a sigh, schooling my expression into a ladylike smile, yet for some reason, that only made his expression darken further.
As if the continuation of my engagement were anything new to be concerned about. If someone deliberately injured me, I had every right to demand compensation. More importantly, if I hadn’t taken a firm stance then and there, the issue would have escalated into something far worse. In my mind, this issue had already been resolved.
And yet—why had my brother come here? His understanding of the situation seemed woefully incomplete. And for this, of all things, to be the reason he visited my log house for the very first time? How odd. Oh my, could it be...?
“Did someone bring this to your attention, and now you believe House Robur’s dignity has been tarnished?”
Oh dear. A sharp glare. How unpleasant.
“I was told by Sienna,” he admitted. “She said you demanded compensation from the prince in public—all over something as trivial as him touching your arm.”
“Ah, you heard from Sienna. That explains quite a lot.”
Of course. That was why the story reeked of bias. My dear foster sister had inserted herself into the matter. Typical.
“I verified the truth with others who were present as well. Why did you act rashly without consulting anyone first?” he asked. His voice had lowered into an accusatory tone, but the more he kept talking, the louder he became. “If something displeased you, you should have spoken to father as the head of the house, or to me as his successor. I’ve told you time and again to conduct yourself with the dignity befitting a duke’s daughter. Yet after years of shirking your education, you misjudge situations like this and invite scorn and so you’re mocked as talentless and incompetent by those around you!”
By this point, he was nearly shouting. I had begun to question why we were still having such a heated debate in such a cramped room.
I laughed. “Indeed, but more importantly—”
“Why are you laughing?! Are you mocking me?!”
“My, my. That’s a bit paranoid, isn’t it?” I asked, taken aback.
“What did you just say?!”
I ignored his outburst. “Besides,” I said, “isn’t your throat parched from all that shouting?”
He seethed at that. Oh, my. His rage had gone quite beyond salty now. “Enough of this foolishness!” he shouted as he raised his arm.
Smack!
Before I could even process it, my cheek flared with pain. The impact knocked me off-balance, sending me to the floor.
My brother stared at his own hand, eyes wide with shock, as if it had moved on its own. A dazed murmur slipped from his lips. “Ah...”
Ah, it seemed he’d regained his senses. That was good.
If only I could say the same for my arm, which I had stuck out to catch my fall. A sharp pain pulsed through it, and the swelling spread all the way down to my fingers. Was it broken?
I let out a slow breath, the tension easing from my shoulders. He flinched. The way he stood there, frozen in shock, reminded me all too well of how my sons in my past life had acted right after their very first stupid old hag outburst.
The memory brought an involuntary chuckle to my lips.
“Why... Why are you laughing?” Oh dear. He looked as though he might cry at any moment. Foolish boy.
Strangely, I didn’t feel the same anger I had earlier with the prince and his attendants. I was exasperated, of course, but that stubbornness of his, and the way he could never quite decide whether to care or not, was endearing. He had struck me, but even in his anger, he had softened the blow at the last second, ensuring it caused as little pain as possible. For a grown man lashing out in anger, it had hardly hurt at all.
I had also deliberately fallen back to avoid the strike to my face, and, because of that, my arm was in a disastrous state. Really, I should have just taken the slap.
The thought made me laugh. This time it wasn’t the polished smile of a lady, of course. No, I’m sure it must have looked more like a bitter laugh, given the searing pain still radiating from my arm.
My brother remained frozen, seeming unsure how to proceed. So, I took the initiative.
“Would you help me up?”
“What, ah— Your arm—?! I— I’m so sorry! Laviange, I’m so sorry!”
At last he noticed the swelling, his expression contorting in horror. Even as the realization set in, he crouched down and swiftly scooped me into his arms...only to freeze again.
Ah. Right. There wasn’t a single sofa or even chairs for guests in this cabin. After a quick glance around, he strode toward the back and carefully lowered me onto my bed.
“Forgive me for entering your bedroom. Please, show me your arm.”
Before I could even grant him permission, he knelt before me, reaching for my swollen limb. The moment he touched it, pain flared through my body. I stiffened.
“As I suspected...it’s broken. I’m sorry.” His voice was tight. Yet another apology. Carefully, he began channeling healing magic. Of course—if he tried to heal it too quickly, it might set incorrectly. “I’m sorry. If it hurts, you don’t have to hold your voice in.”
He made sure the fracture was properly aligned as he healed it.
“Nngh—”
“It hurts, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”
Of course it hurt. Realigning a broken bone before healing it properly was never painless. And yet his touch, which I had felt for the first time in so long, was warm, firm, and reassuring. He didn’t tell me to just bear the pain. He didn’t dismiss it either. Instead, he simply accepted it. For some reason, the thought created a peculiar warmth in my chest.
After some time, the pain and numbness finally subsided. A quiet breath escaped me as my body relaxed.
“Does your cheek hurt? I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his hands still glowing with healing magic. As I watched him, I realized the difference between him and the prince.
With my uninjured hand, I gently reached up and touched his cheek. I half expected him to flinch away. But he didn’t. “Brother, please don’t make that face.”
“What kind of face am I making?”
At that, a quiet chuckle escaped me. Oh dear. How dense could he be? “Like you’re about to cry.”
“I see...” He tried to compose himself, but in the process, his expression warped into something of a teary smile. And now he’d gone and made me laugh again. “So this is how you look when you really smile,” he murmured.
“I’m always smiling.”
“Why is that?”
“What a strange question. Wasn’t it you and mother who always told me to act like a proper lady?”
“That’s true... Everyone’s always said your smile is the only thing that’s ever been truly ladylike about you.”
To the public, I was Laviange, an incompetent noblewoman, hounded by countless unflattering rumors and scorn. And yet, regardless of whether it was said in praise or mockery, there was one thing everyone agreed on—my smile was perfectly befitting a lady.
“Why do you never take your studies seriously? Why do you allow yourself to be called incompetent?”
“Perhaps it’s because I am incompetent?”
“That’s not true.” His voice was firm. “You may not realize it, but your manners and etiquette are flawless. You mastered them without instruction. And tell me—have I ever called you incompetent?”
Now that I thought about it...he often urged me to improve my education and warned me that others scorned me as talentless, but had he himself ever uttered those words?
Perhaps not.
“You’re wrong, you know. I did have tutors in etiquette,” I said. “But...I suppose you never did call me incompetent yourself.”
“You never listened to those tutors,” he pointed out. “More often than not, you either ignored the lessons or fled altogether. That, I would argue, is an issue even before we discuss talent. But I have never believed you to be without ability. Your magical capacity, however... Well, the examination results were what they were. That much I will concede.”
Ah. So he’d decided to sidestep that topic. How diplomatic of him.
In this kingdom, having your magic evaluated was compulsory. For commoners, evaluations were conducted upon admission to their schools, typically by the age of ten. For the nobility, they were conducted no later than the entrance examinations for the Royal Academy. Naturally, my own results—falsified in collusion with my dear sacred beasts—had been nothing short of disastrous. As far as the records showed, I possessed only the most meager magical ability—barely enough to use the simplest household spells. Truly disgraceful for the daughter of a duke.
I laughed. “There’s no reason to spare my feelings, you know.”
“There’s no reason for that smile right now.” Without another word, he reached up to press his fingers lightly against the cheek that he had struck. The faint glow of healing magic followed. There had been no lingering pain, but perhaps a mark had remained?
