Selected as the New Stepmother (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 7

First, let’s clearly examine the situation you’re in, us.

The kid unfolded a memo on the table and pulled out a pen—somewhere he’d hidden it—and began writing with his small hands.

“You owe me something.”

“….Huh?”

“Oh, maybe I should say you’ve committed an offense?”

But aren’t those words too harsh? They’re not the kind a ten-year-old should say.

“Anyway, it’s similar to that situation, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The kid pulled up the corners of his mouth. His lips smiled, but his eyes didn’t—giving me a shiver.

“In exchange for me not telling the Duke that pink diamonds were used as collateral, you must do me one favor.”

“What favor?”

“Find me a mother.”

The kid’s expression subtly darkened.

“When I say mother… you mean the person who will become my mother?”

“Yes. I need a mother. Someone to sing me lullabies at night, drink tea with me, and go on picnics.”

A sudden sharp pain pierced my chest.

I’d always known my mind was sharp, but clearly, children are still children.

“Kid, I can find someone who could be your mother. But if I do, that woman must become the Duke’s wife.”

“Will the Duke live alone forever if I don’t bring him anyone?”

Tid had heard the rumors. I couldn’t confirm if they were true, but if they were, the Duke still loved and longed for her—the Crown Princess—after leaving her, and would spend his life raising her child alone…

‘This is a complete mess.’

The child before me isn’t to blame. It’s all the adults’ fault.

“Want to see something?”

The kid pulled a crumpled note from his vest pocket and handed it to me.

“Drawing pictures, solving puzzles, staying up all night telling stories until we fall asleep?”

There were many more items listed.

“These are things I want to do once I have a mother.”

…What should I do with this little lord?

“The Duke frequently travels to inspect his lands, so he’s often away from home. I’ve even asked the maids to sing me lullabies and sleep with me.”

The kid’s expression visibly soured.

“But one of the maids crossed the line and started acting like she was my mother.”

What happened after that? Or rather, I didn’t want to hear what came next—it sounded like a terrifying story.

“So she was fired. She claimed she was telling my story and sneaked into the Duke’s bedroom at night.”

“…That must’ve been a big disappointment.”

“So since you’ve also done something wrong, why don’t you take on the task of finding me a mother?”

“Alright, I’ll try to find one.”

“…Really?”

The kid’s eyes widened at my quick answer, then his cheeks twitched as he struggled to hold back a smile.

“I can find candidates who match your desired conditions. I can even arrange a place for them. But getting close to them and convincing the Duke they’re suitable as a mother—that’s beyond what I can do. I need to be clear about that.”

The kid jumped up from his seat and strode toward me.

“Thank you so much, Auntie!”

His small arms suddenly wrapped tightly around my neck. I gently patted his back with one arm.

A slightly higher body temperature than mine.

A smaller frame than I’d expected from his appearance.

‘A lonely child.’

That was my first impression when he hugged me.

[This is the timeline separator]

I considered it a proper request and even drafted a contract. Today, I finally learned the kid’s name.

‘Rublion Artenbach.’

It suited him perfectly—playful yet substantial.

As I watched Rublion carefully eating the cake Anna had bought without spilling a crumb, I felt an odd sensation.

The unbearable loneliness I’d felt right after my mother passed away was visible in him.

[Schmidt, you got cream on your dress again.]

I’d always been greedy for dessert and often smeared cream on my clothes while eating.

[It’s punishment, Schmidt.]

I’d dodged my mother’s hand as she tried to dab cream on my nose.

A large, white, warm hand.

[Kahahaha.] [I caught you, you cute little brat.]

Whenever I failed to escape punishment, I’d inevitably get tickled. My mother would laugh with the brightest, sunnier smile imaginable.

“My favorite person is Schmidt.”

“I love Mom the most.”

“More than Dad?”

“Yes! But keep it a secret from Dad!”

My mother’s voice whispering her love into my ear still feels vivid.

It feels like just yesterday we lay together on the grass, gazing at the sky.

Then, without warning, my pillar, my everything—my mother—collapsed from an unknown heart attack. There was no time to prepare for goodbye.

‘Back then, Father wasn’t even himself.’

Shattered by the loss of the woman he loved, Father lived on pills and alcohol. All I could do was hug my mother’s portrait and cry, or search for traces of her in Black Swan.

Black Swan meant everything to me. It was where her desk stood, where her favorite paintings hung.

My only family—the father who, even after losing all his fortune to gambling and fraud and having not a single coin left, I could never abandon.

I was terrified of being utterly alone.

Of being left behind.

‘Stop dwelling on the past!’

I forced myself to lift my sinking mood. I stiffly moved my frozen facial muscles, stood up, and walked toward the sofa.

“Alright, let’s hear what conditions you want in a mother.”

I wiped the cream from the corner of the kid’s mouth with a tissue and opened the request form.

The kid, his cheek bulging with cake, mumbled for a moment before swallowing and answering.

I gathered a list of plausible candidates—conditions that were absurd, yet not entirely impossible—and diligently compiled potential matches. I told the kid to wait briefly, then returned from the storage room with aristocratic directories and newspaper clippings about the bourgeoisie.

When I opened the door, Rublion was leaning back against the sofa, eyes closed. I startled, thinking he was unwell, but then heard a soft snoring. He’d fallen asleep.

I quietly placed the clippings and directories on the desk and found the neatest blanket I could, spreading it lengthwise over the sofa.

I gently nudged him sideways to lie down. His expression softened instantly.

Anna entered, holding tomorrow’s visitor list.

I raised a finger to my lips.

“Let’s talk outside.”

[This is the timeline separator]

On the sea, five minutes from the harbor.

There, Ascal’s boat floated. Inside, he removed the gag from the captured fraudster.

“S-Sorry… I’ve committed a capital offense! Please, spare my life!”

The fraudster trembled with terror.

“I never thought people would believe they could borrow money from a bank! I swear!”

Ascal merely stared. The problem wasn’t his intimidation—it was something else.

Ascal rubbed his glove with his hand, and the fraudster screamed in horror.

“Kih! Please…”

The fraudster shook violently, pounding his head against the floor. Blood welled on his forehead with each thud.

“Too noisy.”

At his single word, the fraudster froze like ice. He remained motionless, forehead pressed to the floor, saying nothing.

“Your Grace, we found it.”

A man in a black suit appeared, carrying a large wooden crate. Inside were gold ingots deliberately swapped and bundles of Tia.

“List of investors?”

“It’s inside the crate.”

Ascal unfolded a hastily fabricated list—so poorly made that anyone with half a brain would spot the fraud immediately. It was pitiful how many had fallen for it.

He stepped forward, grabbed the fraudster by the hair, and whispered into his ear.

“Anyone who touches what is mine will never go unpunished.”

“Your Grace, Your Grace! P-Please, spare me!”

Ascal removed his glove, slightly stained with blood, and handed it to the man in black. He replaced it with a fresh pair. His practiced, effortless movements sent a chill down the spine.

“Bind him in a cask and throw him in.”

“How full should we make it?”

The man in black asked, as if asking a routine question. Ascal replied indifferently.

“Full. If he’s lucky, he might survive.”

[This is the timeline separator]

After finishing his daily duties, Ascal returned to the mansion and gently stroked Rublion’s head, which appeared with sparkling eyes.

“Your Grace, do you have time now?”

“Why.”

“I have something serious to say.”

“First, wash up.”

Rublion trailed after him, shuffling down the hallway.

“Do you remember the auntie we saw this morning?”

“….”

“How was your first impression? Honestly, she’s not particularly beautiful—but what do you think of her?”

“Wash up first.”

“You can tell me this much before washing.”

Ascal suddenly stopped walking down the hallway. Rublion’s head bumped into his waist as a result.

“If you mean the pink-haired woman?”

I’d learned from experience: when someone clings so stubbornly, it’s better to resolve it quickly and move on.

“Yes. What do you think? Be honest.”

Ascal recalled the small woman whose emotions had been so plainly visible.

“Be honest?”

“Yes!”

He let out a heavy sigh.

“She’s not my type.”

Rublion, who had hoped for a positive answer, looked deeply disappointed and grabbed Ascal’s hand.

“Then what should we do? How can we make Auntie fit your taste?”

Ascal smoothed Rublion’s messy hair as he answered.

“Stop this game. The mother-finding game.”

“It’s not a game. I’m trying to get what I want.”

Rublion stood straight, fists clenched. Ascal silently gazed into the boy’s earnest eyes.

“Then take this seriously, Your Grace.”

Ascal lowered himself to Rublion’s eye level.

And asked, with surprising gentleness:

“You asked how that woman could become my type?”

“Yes!”

“She needs to be a bit bigger.”

“What? What needs to be bigger?”

“That’s a secret.”

Rublion’s brow furrowed at his cryptic reply. But it only made him look insignificant and adorable.

Rublion stared intently at Ascal’s retreating back as he disappeared down the hall. Then, as if making a decision, he said:

“I’ll ask Auntie tomorrow.”