Did they say the early bird catches the worm?
From the break of dawn, Estelle had been digging in the backyard—and stumbled upon an unexpected fortune.
"All of this is... magic stone?"
It was magi.
The soil she had turned was brimming with magi.
For an ordinary person, it would've been a sight shocking enough to faint from, but Estelle calmly reached out her hand.
At once, a stranger's memories poured into her.
[Anna, she's Charlotte's daughter. No, actually—not a daughter, but a son. He's been living disguised as a girl all this time.]
[It's not wrong to love my wife's friend! You said yourself you wanted to spend your whole life with your friend. I do too—so doesn't that make us allies?]
There was a little-known fact.
That was—magi contained the memories of the dead.
Through the magi Estelle unearthed, a jumble of different memories seeped into her.
Among them was Pippin's grandmother.
[Child, look at this wrist! Nothing left but bones!]
[Grandma, what are you talking about! You can't even see the bones—I need to lose weight.]
[What? Lose what? It's all gone into your height! I baked an apple pie, so eat before you go!]
"Looks like I can only see the memories of people who died in this region."
With the information she gleaned from those memories, Estelle was able to naturally earn the goodwill of the northern folk.
"To survive, it's obviously far better to gain favor than hostility."
Especially with Pippin, Lennox's adjutant.
There was no downside to staying on good terms with him.
After rummaging around for any more useful memories, Estelle covered the soil back up.
"Don't tell me—you've been digging in the ground again since morning!"
Just then, Pippin came running from afar.
"Please, leave this hard work to me!"
"I was just about to get up anyway—the garden's tidied now. Have you eaten? I'm making tomato stew today."
"Then at least let me help prepare the meal."
Pippin quickly followed after Estelle.
Over the past few days, with good food and good rest, his complexion had brightened noticeably—all thanks to Estelle.
"Something good must've happened?"
She asked casually, noticing how unusually cheerful he seemed. Pippin chuckled awkwardly, asking if it was that obvious.
"Yesterday, I finally completed the purchase of the land with the mandrakes. They say you were the one who pointed out the location, my lady?"
"Yes, that's right."
She had expected it was about time for him to make the purchase—and sure enough, he had.
'From the memories in the magi, I even learned Pippin's weakness. I could use that to threaten him into stealing the mandrakes… but for now, I'll just wait and see.'
Estelle resolved to grow even closer with Pippin, just in case.
Her aim was to cure an incurable disease—without paying a single coin.
"My lady, you truly are far too good for the Duke."
Unaware of her hidden intentions, Pippin looked at her with eyes full of respect.
Knock, knock—
A familiar knocking sound came.
"Seems someone has come to see you again, my lady."
But contrary to expectations, the servant wasn't looking for Estelle—he was looking for Pippin.
"What is it?"
"Well, it's…"
The servant glanced nervously at Estelle, then leaned in to whisper into Pippin's ear.
Whisper, whisper.
"What? … All right, I understand. I'll go see for myself right away."
With a troubled look, Pippin rose from his seat.
"Has something happened?"
"I need to check on the young child the Duke brought in. Excuse me, but I'll have to take my leave first."
"Is it something serious?"
"They say the little one hasn't been adjusting well to the sudden change in environment. It shouldn't be anything too grave."
"I'll come too."
"What? But…"
"No matter what, he's still my son. If it's about him, I want to help."
Caught off guard, Pippin hesitated, but eventually gave a small nod.
"Very well. I'll explain everything as we go."
As he led Estelle back toward the main estate, he filled her in on the details.
"The child refuses any touch from the servants, hasn't even bathed for weeks. Bathing is one thing, but he's even been skipping meals—it has everyone worried."
The day Lennox had first pulled the boy out of the magi pool and scrubbed him down like laundry—that had been his last bath.
"Seems he still longs for his real family."
"If it were up to me, I'd find his family, let him stay with them, and give him plenty of time to adjust. But… it's almost certain his family is already dead."
"What?"
"You remember the chaos not long ago, when a western village was overrun by magi? This child is one of the survivors."
"..."
"There were only two who survived. The other one lived only because he happened to be far away when the magi struck."
Pippin swallowed dryly.
"That man has no relation to the boy. Aside from him, there were no other survivors. Which means, of course, the child's family is…"
"Does the child know that?"
"Yes. But honestly, I regret telling him. Perhaps it would've been better if he never knew."
Pippin's head lowered of its own accord.
It was a truth so cruel that even grown adults could barely endure it.
Yet he hadn't thought deeply about how a child—one who hadn't even lived half a lifetime—could possibly accept it.
"It's my fault," Pippin murmured, his voice heavy with gloom.
As they spoke, they soon found themselves standing before the child's room.
Only then did Estelle realize she had forgotten to ask the most important question.
"What is the child's name?"
Of course, Estelle already knew it—from the original story.
'But if I act like I know a name I've never even heard… that would seem strange.'
Pippin, standing by the door, answered as he opened it.
"Duren."
Through the crack, a dark and gloomy room came into view.
But what greeted Estelle first was not the child—it was the stench.
She grimaced, then cautiously peered through the gap.
Thanks to the light spilling in from the open door, she could make out a small figure.
Sunken cheeks, stick-thin arms.
Clothes worn, torn, and filthy.
And crimson eyes, brimming with wariness.
A child—no more than five years old.
"!"
The moment Estelle's gaze met his, the boy darted away in fright.
Only to hide clumsily—his head tucked behind something, while his tiny body remained completely visible.
'Does he think if he can't see me, then I can't see him either?'
Estelle couldn't help but smile faintly at the childish innocence, even as puzzlement stirred within her.
For who could possibly know—
That this adorable little boy, in just a single year, would come to be known as the "Mad Dog of Winteren."
In the original story, Duren—alongside Lennox—was the very embodiment of a bad temper.
[Kyaa! That child bit my hand!]
Indeed, in the story, Duren once bit Vera's hand so hard it drew blood.
Whenever he appeared, bloodshed followed.
The nickname "Mad Dog" wasn't given to him for nothing.
'But… strange.'
He was still so young, so naïve—thinking that if he couldn't see others, then they couldn't see him. How could a child like that go around hurting people?
'What on earth happened in that one year the original never explained?'
In the end, the two left the room without accomplishing much.
"I suppose… even for you, my lady, it's too much?" Pippin said, watching Estelle carefully.
[Duren.]
Estelle spoke only his name—yet the child trembled.
Each time she took a single step closer, he shuffled backward just enough to keep the distance.
'If I had tried to close in too quickly, he probably would've bolted.'
It was no wonder the servants had been at a loss—the boy's wariness was far beyond ordinary.
"It does seem difficult… but still, I want to help him somehow. Would it be all right if I kept visiting here regularly?"
"It wouldn't be a problem… but you don't need to force yourself."
"..."
"Caring for the young master isn't part of your contract, my lady. I'm sure even the Duke would understand if you left this matter aside…"
"It's not because of the Duke."
Her concern for the child wasn't born of obligation or duty.
"I want to do this. That's all. So you don't need to worry."
That tiny back—so determined not to show her his face—kept lingering in her mind.
Because it overlapped so clearly with her own childhood.
The dazzling yet unfamiliar surroundings.
The people around her, to whom she could never grow attached.
And herself, forced to remain there like an out-of-place object.
"So please… just leave it to me."
Pushing aside the shadows of her own past, Estelle gave a gentle smile.
"Ah, before that—"
Whisper, whisper.
Hearing her words, Pippin tilted his head in confusion.
"You're saying… that's all you need?"
He asked again, uncertain.
"Truly, if you just have that, it will be enough?"
"Yes. Am I asking for too much?"
Pippin shook his head quickly.
"N–No! It's just… I was surprised because it's such a simple request. I'll have it prepared within the hour!"
It was so trivial that all her past hardships suddenly felt almost meaningless.
He could only pray that Estelle's secret plan would reach Duren.
For once, Pippin's heart ached with desperation more than ever before.
A few hours later, Estelle came to visit Duren again.
It seemed he hadn't moved at all since hiding earlier—his small body was still tucked behind the curtains, only his head concealed.