Allen groaned uncomfortably, bothered by the stiff new suit. The tight red bow tie was especially irritating.

“Mom.”

“Why?”

Allen responded grumpily, his lips pouting.

“Did you see that child just now?”

“Who? The small pink-haired girl?”

“That’s my friend’s daughter.”

“What?”

Allen was surprised.

“Mom has friends?”

“…Allen.”

Hazel was at a loss for words at her eight-year-old son’s brutally innocent question.

Ideally, she wanted to scold him for such an attitude, but honestly, she didn’t have friends. The ladies she associated with were mostly political alliances or relationships formed for social reasons. Her husband, the Duke of Hyacinth, was probably her closest confidant.

Because her one true friend had died six years ago.

“Mom doesn’t have friends!”

“…I did.”

Hazel firmly flicked her annoying son’s forehead.

“And telling people they don’t have friends is rude, son.”

“Is it still rude if the person really doesn’t have any friends?”

“…It’s worse.”

Allen then asked, his eyes wide.

“Why? But saying someone has no friends is the truth, isn’t it? Isn’t it worse to lie that they do? Dad said lying is bad!”

Only at times like this does he articulate his words so precisely, Hazel thought.

She rubbed her throbbing forehead. Raising an eight-year-old boy is an incredibly challenging task. Dealing with cunning nobles in the social circles, who sweet-talk but carry a knife in their stomach, seemed much easier in comparison.

She took hold of Allen’s shoulder and said,

“Allen.”

“Yeah?”
“People don’t like it when truths they want to hide are spoken aloud. Wouldn’t you be embarrassed, Allen, if Mom told your friends that you still sometimes wet the bed at night?”

At the mention of this, Allen’s face turned bright red.

For the dignified young lord of the Duke’s family, being eight years old and still occasionally wetting the bed was a profoundly shameful fact.

It was a sort of empathy effect.

The boy nodded vigorously.

“So, saying Mom doesn’t have friends is as embarrassing as wetting the bed?”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“Got it! I won’t say Mom doesn’t have friends anymore!”

“Right…”

Hazel nodded emptily. This was a somewhat successful educational outcome.

…Perhaps.

Meanwhile, at the Duke of Hyacinth’s mansion.

The mansion’s servants were incredibly busy preparing to welcome the ladies and noble young lords and ladies.

Seizing this opportunity, the eldest son of the Duke’s family, Derek, sneaked out of his room and knocked on his youngest brother’s door.

“Cassius, Cassius!”

Bang, bang.

Despite knocking twice loudly, his fashionably aloof youngest brother didn’t respond. Derek’s smile turned mischievous.

“That’s how you come out, huh?”

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

“Cassius! Cassius! Cassius! Cassius! Cassius! Cassius! Cassius! Cassi—”

Bang!

The door opened irritably, and Derek swiftly dodged to the side.

He faced his seven-year-old brother, full of annoyance, and stuck out his tongue teasingly.

“What, were you reading again? Such a nerd!”

“Look who’s talking.”

Cassius, the only one with silver hair among the brown-haired siblings, frowned, holding a book in one hand.

“That’s no way to act. Didn’t Father say to stay quietly in our rooms until the social gathering?”

“I just heard some interesting news!”

“…What is it.”

Cassius sighed like an old man and asked.

Derek then clenched his fists and exclaimed,

“The young Lady of Lysianthus is coming to the social gathering today! How about that? Exciting, isn’t it!”