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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The House Lord's Verdict
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Setia Ducal House's conference room.
Camilla Setia, the Duchess of Setia and Charlotte's grandmother, had been meeting in private with her son Jerome since early morning.
She didn't look anything like a grandmother with grandsons and granddaughters.
Her platinum blonde hair was cropped short, and her skin appeared no older than her forties at most. Her face, devoid even of the perfunctory smile people usually wear in front of others, suited the word "handsome" better than "beautiful."
She was the House Lord of the Setia family—one of the top three strongest figures in the Cheiker Kingdom, known as the "Land of Swords."
"The situation in the neighboring countries has been quite turbulent lately."
"Yes, House Lord."
Camilla fixed her son, seated across the long table, with a sharp glance from her chin.
"And yet here you are, unable to keep even one of your children in check, causing all this commotion?"
"...That's..."
Jerome recalled how strangely obedient Charlotte had been yesterday and started to make excuses to Camilla, only to stop himself.
To Camilla, even her own son was someone to employ and discard as needed.
That cold, calculating nature was undoubtedly an excellent trait for a House Lord. Her thoroughly objective judgment had always shone through.
But the more so, Charlotte—who had no talent whatsoever—was as good as nonexistent in Camilla's eyes.
There was no need to spin pointless excuses about Charlotte's suicide attempt.
"I'm sorry."
"Hearing you apologize for failing to look after Charlotte has become part of my daily routine. But hearing that she's gotten unnecessarily tangled up with the Third Prince? That's something I absolutely refuse."
"...I'm sorry."
Camilla clicked her tongue in annoyance as she rifled through her documents, then suddenly lifted her head as if something had occurred to her and gazed out the window.
She nodded slightly at the daytime moon hanging obliquely in the sky.
"Come to think of it, Shadow Blade Day is coming up soon."
"Ah... Has it been that long already?"
"How long do you plan to keep harboring a child with no talent just because she's your blood?"
Shadow Blade Day was the day when the moon overlapped with the sun.
Traditionally, each house sent out the heirs they had been raising to show off their skills in a grand tournament.
Jerome ran through the lineup for the tournament in his mind, but when Charlotte's face came to mind, his response came slower than expected without him realizing it.
"Our house will send only five to the tournament. Those who don't make the cut should be given their own fiefdoms to live freely in the countryside, or married off and sent away."
Combining direct and side branch descendants, there were currently eight children bearing the Setia name.
Sending only five to compete and cutting the rest meant, of course, casting out Charlotte.
Including the two other children lacking in talent.
Jerome didn't find Camilla's proposal strange at all.
But unlike before, the words didn't come easily.
For some reason, something was nagging at him.
Ever since yesterday.
As he lingered without answering promptly, lost in thought, Camilla shot at him.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me some pointless paternal affection is welling up?"
Jerome looked up at his mother.
Her violet eyes, even as his mother, held an intensity that was hard to meet head-on.
As always, Jerome slowly shook his head.
"No. I'll handle it as you command."
Chirp chirp chirp.
The nanny, Betty, thought there was a strange floral scent in the room as she opened the locked door and entered.
And what she saw was Charlotte on the bed, emanating a shimmering purple aura.
"...Miss?"
Though startled by the unprecedented sight, Betty sensed nothing bad was happening to Charlotte. The purple energy somehow felt sacred, and Charlotte's face looked more serene than ever.
Even a faint floral fragrance seemed to brush her nose. But it was so subtle that when she focused, there was no scent at all.
'She seems both asleep and awake while sitting there... Should I wake her?'
Thinking Charlotte might be dozing in her seat, Betty approached to rouse her, when a large sheet of paper at Charlotte's feet caught her eye.
[Do not touch my body until I wake up. Absolutely.]
It was hard to make sense of at first glance.
As she stared at it, another voice from behind stopped Betty.
"Leave her be."
Startled, she turned to see Minor House Lord Jerome standing in the open doorway.
'What brings him here so early in the morning?'
Unable to hide her surprise, Betty's eyes widened as she bowed deeply.
"Minor House Lord, have you come?"
Jerome nodded curtly and turned his gaze to Charlotte.
He had come straight from the meeting to see his daughter because, for some reason, he wanted to tell her personally about the upcoming Setia House martial tournament candidate selection.
Yet the daughter he thought might have sneaked out in defiance of her confinement was showing an unimaginable sight.
"...Is Charlotte meditating right now?"
His tone was as flustered as if a bird had hatched from a kiwi fruit, but it wasn't a question seeking an answer.
He muttered to himself, staring blankly at Charlotte, who was sweating profusely.
Betty tilted her head at the Minor House Lord standing there dumbfounded for a long while, not budging.
With him blocking the way, she couldn't tend to the young miss, nor could she easily leave the room.
It had been ages—practically ancient history—since Jerome had visited Charlotte's room in person. And even then, it had only been to scold her.
This room was in the most remote corner of the mansion's annex, a place no one would visit unless they made a point of it.
'Yet he comes all the way here at dawn and lingers this long...'
This father and daughter pair had felt more like strangers than family, so what on earth was happening?
They had never even had a proper conversation lasting more than ten minutes when she was conscious.
'I really have no idea what's going on.'
Betty brought a chair to Jerome, who was standing at the doorway with arms crossed, staring at his daughter for ages, then quietly slipped out of the room.
Jerome gazed intently at his daughter, whose expression was not just peaceful but almost blissful.
'When teaching meditation, I said that anyone who wields the sword must also polish their mind, but I never dreamed she'd actually do it.'
No matter how he looked, she wasn't just pretending to do it half-heartedly.
Even priests couldn't meditate that long.
He watched the sun reach the third hour in the sky, sighed, and rose from his seat.
Duties he had to attend to awaited him, so he couldn't linger here any longer.
He left her in the care of her guards and departed, his mind truly a whirlwind of chaos.
'I've never heard of such a thing. A child meditating that long.'
And she was only nine years old.
For his daughter, who could never sit still for a moment, this was utterly implausible.
It was truly remarkable.
As Jerome stood blankly, staring at the bushes ahead while failing to sort out his tangled thoughts, Leight—who had been looking for him—stopped in front of him.
"There you are. I've been searching everywhere."
Jerome finally snapped out of it and looked up.
"Ah, sorry. Am I late for the meeting?"
"Luckily, the guest is late too, so it's fine. But what had you so deep in thought?"
"Nothing. More importantly, what came of the investigation I asked for yesterday?"
Jerome's secretary, Leight, hesitated unusually at the question, fiddling with his glasses before speaking.
"Well... There was some rather peculiar information."
"What?"
"The playmates, including Young Master Lancelot, said Miss Charlotte caused her usual mischief with nothing out of the ordinary... But there was one odd detail mixed in."
"What was it?"
"Apparently... Miss Charlotte caught a stone thrown by Young Master Lancelot without turning around. And then she turned it to powder."
Jerome scowled as fiercely as he could.
"Are you reporting children's pranks to me now?"
Leight slowly shook his head.
"Two servants witnessed the same thing."
"...What?"
Jerome's face finally twisted in disbelief.
It felt like hearing a tale from mythology.
He was certain he knew everything about his youngest daughter.
Or so he had thought.
She had nothing to do with swordsmanship or training—a child who would soon be expelled from the family, and that would be that.
'...What in the world is going on.'
He stood lost in thought for a long while, even forgetting he had a meeting to attend.
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