“If you’re willing to make a butler your husband and rent a room, it seems the conclusion has already been reached.”

The Count’s voice was monotonous as usual. Of course, the arrogance within it remained.

So Ibi was once again repulsed by that Count.

She thought he might be a little flustered, but instead he came out so boldly.

Ibi thought he was truly not a cute fellow and smiled gracefully.

“I thought you wanted to hide your identity, Count.”

“You knew that and still deliberately entered this house. With a thoroughly calculating nature.”

But despite Ibi’s gentle voice, the Count’s response was closer to sarcasm and interrogation.

“You’d better recalculate. If you think you’ve found a weakness.”

The Count added, crossing his arms crookedly.

Glasses usually make a person look more docile, but that Count remained overbearing even with dull glasses perched on his nose bridge.

So Ibi secretly gritted her teeth while maintaining her smile.

Dies was right.

Dies had told her to approach the Count while keeping boundaries.

Saying that the current situation wasn’t a threat to the Count, and if we upset him, it would be our loss.

Looking at the Count’s attitude now, it certainly seemed that way.

This situation was neither a weakness nor a threat to the Count.

Well, who could say anything if a great noble secretly stayed in a rural village?

Dereliction of duty, desertion from the front lines?

That too becomes a crime only if there’s a superior to interrogate.

“Weakness? That’s absurd. How could there be anything that could be a weakness for you, Count? Even if there were, I know I couldn’t do anything about it.”

So Ibi said as politely as possible, pulling her shawl around her chest.

“I never expected to meet you in a place like this either, Count. If you think I followed you here, that’s a misunderstanding.”

“Rest assured. I don’t overestimate you to that extent.”

“…That’s right. I don’t have the ability to follow you, Count. Our meeting during the day was purely coincidental. And it was also an opportunity for me to seek your understanding.”

Despite the Count’s cold attitude, Ibi continued her words so virtuously.

So the Count’s head tilted slightly. It was as if he was willing to hear what she had to say.

Such consistent bad manners, but Ibi endured and continued speaking.

“I saw it during the day. How you were dealing with the children, Count.”

The kids just asked for the ball, and you threw it away, you bastard.

“It looked so nice, even if just for a moment. I could dare to guess that this is your precious daily life.”

Right. Dereliction of duty, desertion from the front lines. Such things don’t matter to the Count. He can crush any criticism with his power.

But how about in this village?

You said you settled here two years ago.

You said you teach the children letters.

Moreover, you’re famous for your bad personality.

Why would you, who could live like an emperor if you wanted, choose such a squalid life?

Ibi easily deduced the answer.

There are sometimes such eccentrics in Tienda too. Weirdos who feel disillusioned and disgusted with noble life.

Oddballs who throw tantrums saying such a life is meaningless because they have too much.

Ibi thought Sion Laurel was clearly one of those. So she decided to try negotiating with this.

“Everyone needs a stable daily life. But I can’t live like I used to. Since you left Tienda, Count.”

More precisely, since you threw that merciless declaration and left.

Thinking about it again made her blood boil, but Ibi pleaded, remembering Dies’s words to keep boundaries.

“So I want to ask for your leniency, Count. You’re the only one who can give me back my daily life. And I think you, Count, understand the preciousness of daily life better than anyone.”

Ibi carefully looked up at the Count as she finished speaking.

Then she doubted her eyes.

The Count was smiling unlike himself. No, looking again, it was quite a fitting smile.

That smile confined to the corners of his mouth was, if named, cynicism, if its nature was to be gauged, derision.

“You think I understand the preciousness of daily life better than anyone.”

The Count repeated Ibi’s last words with that smiling face.

“If I don’t withdraw the declaration, I’ll ruin your daily life too. This sounds like a threat, doesn’t it?”

“That’s not wrong.”

Ibi answered honestly because of the curse. But she wasn’t flustered.

No matter how euphemistically she tried to put it, the meaning wouldn’t change, and there was no way that formidable Count would be easily fooled, so it was better to admit what needed to be admitted.

The Count’s smile deepened.

Ibi was a little scared, but equally defiant.

She wanted to argue that compared to what he had done, this level of threat was nothing.

At the same time, she wanted to persuade him in detail.

You’ve been here for two years, and you even teach children. Then this must be an important place for you too. Compromise a bit!

It was when Ibi was looking at the Count with such desperate thoughts.

The Count erased his smile and asked back.

“Haven’t you given up on the Saint position yet?”

“No.”

“I thought you had already given up and were traveling or something.”

The Count muttered as if it was unexpected, and Ibi wondered what this meant.

So she was puzzled for a while, then belatedly understood and raised her eyes.

The Count had thought Ibi had already given up on the Saint position.

So he assumed her visit to this village was a kind of refuge.

But when Ibi talked about daily life and demanded the withdrawal of the declaration, he realized she was still struggling and laughed derisively.

Ibi was shocked by the Count’s attitude.

She thought he had no thoughts because he was so confident, but he clearly knew how troubled Ibi would have been by his declaration.

That’s why he even guessed that Ibi would have given up on the Saint position long ago.

“If you haven’t given up on the Saint position, why did you come here?”

“I stopped by briefly because I had some time.”

Her mouth moved on its own even though she didn’t want to respond. So Ibi reluctantly made up an excuse to hide her true purpose.

“…Originally, I was on my way to the border to see you, Count. To ask for your leniency.”

“You almost wasted your effort.”

“Which effort would have been wasted?”

Ibi asked back, dumbfounded.

“The effort of not meeting me, or the effort of not receiving leniency?”

“Both, I suppose. You’ve already wasted the latter effort tonight.”

At the Count’s ill-mannered answer, Ibi felt utterly deflated.

She had pleaded desperately as if grasping at straws, but it didn’t work at all. Far from working, it was cut off in one stroke.

So Ibi started to feel more and more wronged.

What did I do so wrong? …I did do wrong. But that was because of the curse.

Moreover, this guy is not swayed by Ibi’s faults in the first place, but only by his own suspicious circumstances.

Thinking what kind of situation this was due to the tyranny of such an obstinate madman, Ibi bit her lip and dropped her head. Otherwise, she felt like she would curse or bite the Count.

It was when Ibi was keeping her mouth shut like that.

“…The social circles of Tienda have a light attitude and poor memory. So they’ll soon forget this incident too if there’s just a suitable opportunity.”

Suddenly the Count opened his mouth. Then he started speaking in a somewhat softened voice.

“But that place is far from the stable daily life you mentioned. The nobles only want your ability, and when its value is exhausted, Tienda will easily discard you.”

What is he suddenly saying?

At the Count’s abrupt words, Ibi blinked with her head still lowered.

“It would be the same if you become a Saint. Even if you occupy that position without any foundation, you’ll only be used, and that won’t be the image of the difficult person you spoke of and hoped for.”

It hurt a bit as she listened.

Ibi slightly raised her head and looked at the Count.

The Count had a rather serious face. If one could forget his atrocities for a moment, it could be seen as a worried expression.

So when Ibi looked at the Count with a face full of confusion, the Count asked back in a nonchalant voice.

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Then why do you look so wronged?”

“It’s all because of you!”

Ibi shouted without realizing it and then covered her mouth, thinking ‘oops’.

And the Count seriously asked back to Ibi’s heartfelt outburst.

“What is because of me…”

“Stop asking!”

The flustered Ibi tried to cover the Count’s mouth as she had done before.

But this time she couldn’t knock him down like before.

As if he wouldn’t be fooled twice, the Count instantly caught both of Ibi’s wrists.

In the end, Ibi was caught by the Count and couldn’t move at all in that state.

Ibi tried to pull her arms a couple of times to escape from the Count’s grasp. But the Count didn’t budge.

So Ibi looked up at the Count with resentful eyes.

And Sion was secretly worried that he might really make her cry at this rate.

Earlier too, when she kept her head down and said nothing, he was momentarily flustered thinking she might be crying.

Sion thought that he should at least avoid making her cry.

But on the other hand, he also had a desire to make her cry once.

Ibi Ariate, who was weak like a child and not particularly intelligent, yet stubborn.

Sion was still troubled. How he should handle this thing that fool cherished so much, and also what he wanted to do.

Sion stared blankly at Ibi’s face that looked like she might cry at any moment, then swallowed a sigh at the sight of the snow-white nightgown below.

Feeling his gaze move, Ibi spoke in a heavily suppressed voice.

“Let go of my arm.”

It was a voice at its limit.

So Sion thought he should let go at this point if he really didn’t intend to make her cry.

But then an unexpected voice was heard.

“Who’s in the kitchen?”

It was Mrs. Marso’s voice.

It seemed Mrs. Marso had woken up from sleep because Ibi had shouted earlier.

The lady’s room was right in front of the kitchen, so Sion let go of Ibi’s wrists and stepped back as soon as he heard that voice.

Then, as he was thinking of an appropriate excuse, another unexpected situation followed.

Ibi Ariate, who had just been released, didn’t step back but rather grabbed Sion. Then she flipped him around and buried her head in his back.

As Ibi’s forehead touched his back, Sion glared behind his back trying to detach Ibi. But Ibi persisted, shaking her head with a desperate face.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Marso reached the kitchen, and Ibi again bowed her head deeply between Sion’s shoulder blades.

Sion was considerably flustered by the sensation as if a kitten was burrowing into his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to push her away forcefully, so he eventually straightened his back as Ibi intended.

With that, Ibi’s small body was completely hidden by Sion.

Still not feeling secure, Ibi grasped Sion’s clothes.

So Sion also unconsciously clenched his fist, then barely relaxed it.

He was utterly dumbfounded.

Although he could vividly feel the warm body temperature characteristic of small animals on his back, Sion still could hardly believe it.

That Ibi Ariate had decided to hide behind his back to avoid Mrs. Marso’s eyes.