Ibi Ariate was as small as she appeared to the eye.

Her hands that could barely grasp a handful of cloth, and her forehead that barely reached the middle of Sion’s back.

So Sion could completely shield Ibi just by standing there.

However, there was one problem.

‘You fool, what about your skirt.’

Sion tried hard to hold back from scolding her like this.

Ibi’s long nightgown skirt was visible between Sion’s legs. This was not something Sion could hide no matter what he did.

Sion was simply dumbfounded by this carelessness of Ibi Ariate.

Well, since she said she had a husband, it wouldn’t be good to show such an appearance.

Even so, it was a situation that could easily be brushed off as just accidentally running into each other in the kitchen.

Rather, if they were caught hiding like this, it would look even stranger, and Sion couldn’t understand Ibi Ariate’s way of thinking.

But Ibi had valid reasons that Sion had not considered.

First, there was a very high probability that Lady Marso would ask “What are you two doing there?” if she saw Ibi and Sion, and an equally high chance that this question would cause Ibi’s curse to put her in a difficult situation.

Ibi imagined that as soon as she heard Lady Marso’s voice, she would say “I was talking with the Count!”, “This is Count Laurel!”, “He’s a great noble!”, and be killed by the Count, so she chose to hide behind Sion’s back to avoid such a situation.

“Ah, I wondered who it was. Were you alone?”

Lady Marso, who came out wearing a sleeping cap, put her hand on her chest in relief upon seeing Sion.

“I was startled to hear a woman’s voice. It must have been coming from the next room. I forgot to mention that the soundproofing isn’t good.”

Lady Marso spoke busily and clicked her tongue.

Fortunately, the lady didn’t notice the skirt visible beneath Sion’s legs. It was thanks to the darkness and her presbyopia.

Lady Marso bid goodnight to Sion, whom she had accidentally encountered, and headed back to her room. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she stopped and said,

“Oh, if you’d like, come down and have breakfast together tomorrow. Meet that couple too.”

The lady spoke intending to introduce Ibi and Dies to Sion.

Instead of answering yes or no, Sion muttered in a low voice.

“Those people seemed like a fake couple.”

“Huh?”

The lady tilted her head at the incomprehensible words.

And behind Sion, Ibi desperately clutched his clothes.

Feeling his clothes being pulled and his back being scratched, Sion changed the subject as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll come down when I wake up in the morning.”

The lady nodded dubiously at Sion’s belated answer. Then she muttered that he was really strange and returned to her room.

When the sound of the door closing was heard, Sion spoke to his back.

“You can come out now.”

With that, Ibi stepped back from Sion’s back, her hands neatly clasped together just as they had been while hiding.

Ibi averted her gaze as if embarrassed, and Sion quietly looked at her before speaking in an even softer voice.

“This is how you should act. In Tienda too.”

Ibi, who had been looking elsewhere, raised her head.

Then, as if understanding the meaning of those words, she smiled awkwardly.

It meant to cling, hide, and plead.

It was a merciful yet arrogant statement saying he would move as she wished, just like now.

So Ibi laughed. And Sion, not knowing why Ibi was laughing, asked.

“You only need to give up on becoming a saint, do you need more calculation?”

“I do.”

“I heard you were thoroughly calculating.”

Sion spoke as if clicking his tongue at Ibi, who answered promptly.

It was a rebuke meaning that for someone like that, she was too poor at calculations.

His tone was still cold and his expression icy, but remembering how this man had hidden her behind his back, Ibi continued speaking.

“Because I’m thoroughly calculating, the numbers have to add up. Earlier, you said I would only be used, right?”

“It’s the truth.”

“You’re right. It’s true. But isn’t everyone used? We use each other, need each other, and then earn qualifications fitting our value. I think this is natural.”

Ibi’s chattering attitude was quite different from before.

It was brighter than before when she had just lowered herself and watched the Count’s reactions.

Though some might consider it impertinent, Sion seemed to not dislike this demeanor and silently observed.

“So the Count’s proposal doesn’t add up for me. I’m not sure if I really qualify to accept that offer, and it’s hard to trust a Count who has suddenly blocked my path forward.”

The expression of blocking her path was also excessively provocative, but Sion generously let this pass as well.

So Ibi, emboldened by this allowance, confidently concluded her words.

“And above all, I think I’ve done well so far. Me. I’ve always been used, but even while being used.”

“So what is it you want to say?”

“Please don’t interfere because I’m doing fine on my own.”

Though the curse caused a slip of the tongue, Ibi didn’t panic like before.

She felt confident that it was okay to climb this far.

As expected, Sion just looked at Ibi with his arms crossed, not taking issue with her manner of speech.

Of course, while he didn’t take issue, his stubbornness remained.

“I refuse.”

“This is coercion.”

“I admit it.”

“Is admitting it all?”

“I regret it.”

“No…!”

As Ibi started to protest angrily, Sion covered her mouth with his hand.

“Lower your voice if you don’t want to hide again.”

Sion’s large hand covered not just Ibi’s mouth but half her face. So Ibi recalled the humiliation of having her cheeks grabbed by him.

Should I bite?

He might even let it slide if I did.

No, but what’s the point if he only lets this much slide!

As Ibi glared at Sion with her mouth covered, Sion looked back at her and swallowed a sigh.

It was simply ridiculous.

Now that she seemed to have finished observing, Ibi Ariate had started saying everything she wanted to say.

Even before, she wasn’t particularly good at distinguishing between what could and couldn’t be said, but at least she kept watching reactions and acting tiresome, but now it seemed she had given up even that.

Sion found this more comfortable.

But the words “don’t interfere because I’m doing fine on my own” were unpleasant.

He wondered if it was even worth getting upset over, but it strangely grated on him.

Yet he had to acknowledge most of what Ibi Ariate had said.

Her lament that the calculations didn’t add up, her complaint that it was hard to trust, her self-praise that she had done well so far. None of it was wrong.

So Sion, thinking there was no choice, uttered words he had originally not intended to say.

“He was a person who lived in this house.”

“Mm?”

Ibi made a questioning sound with her mouth covered.

Though he found it secretly amusing, Sion maintained his expressionless face and continued speaking.

“That person entrusted you to me. The astrologer who lived with you.”

At Sion’s confession, Ibi’s eyes grew infinitely wide.

So Sion finally removed his hand from Ibi Ariate’s face. Then he finally told the frozen Ibi.

“Then I hope you’ll recalculate. Whether it adds up or not.”

.

.

.

Ibi, who had gone out after hearing the Count’s footsteps, returned to the room almost an hour later.

But the sound of the Count returning to the second floor had rung out long before that.

It seemed Ibi had stayed outside alone to get some fresh air.

Ibi, who returned like that, silently lay down on the bed, and Dies, seeing this, worriedly whispered.

“Are you planning to take over the bed while pretending to be serious?”

“That’s right. I’m going to fall asleep like this.”

Ibi, whose true intentions were exposed, hit Dies with a pillow. And the butler actively protested this unreasonable behavior.

After that commotion, Ibi glared at Dies while panting.

“I’m tired, so let’s talk tomorrow.”

Ibi covered herself with the blanket again.

Then she mulled over the Count’s last words.

―That person entrusted you to me. The astrologer who lived with you.

To be honest, she had guessed it.

She had to.

From the moment she saw Sion Laurel in this house.

What were the chances that Count Laurel would choose this village out of the many villages in Bis and happen to live in the house where Ibi Ariate had lived?

It was probably similar to the chances of a dragon hatching from an egg.

So it was right to think in reverse.

The Count knew this house was where Ibi and the astrologer had lived and came looking for it.

That’s why he didn’t find it strange that Ibi appeared in this village.

Rather, he guessed she had returned after giving up on becoming a saint.

This solved one big question, but it brought even more confusion to Ibi.

What debt did Uncle leave with the Count?

When did he meet the Count, was it after he left me?

Why did he ask him to take care of me?

When you’re not by my side.

Ibi barely resisted the urge to chase after the Count’s room and ask.

Instead, she had to endure the cold wind in the backyard for a long time to calm her complicated feelings.

Still, her heart remained heavy. It felt like the sharp crescent moon before the new moon was hanging around her chest.

Taking advantage of this weakened moment, the Count’s carelessly thrown words also shook Ibi.

The nobles only want your ability.

They’ll easily discard you when your value is exhausted.

It’s the same even if you become a saint.

You’ll only be used.

Is that really what you call a difficult person?

Ibi couldn’t deny this and acknowledged it. And she even proudly said.

That it’s natural to use each other, that she had done well despite that.

But in truth, Ibi was utterly exhausted.

Before Ibi’s tightly closed eyes, an image of herself appeared, whether a dream or imagination.

That Ibi Ariate sat prettily adorned like a doll.

Her outward appearance was as radiant as any noble young lady, but inside she was even more wretched than when she was in Bis.

She hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep.

She cut back on sleep to read books and cultivate refinement. She learned dance and instruments. She practiced smiling prettily, and endured dizziness as she starved to fit into dresses.

Still not at ease, she eavesdropped through notes every day to hear what people were saying.

But even knowing so much, she never spoke her mind freely.

Pretending not to have thoughts even when she did, pretending not to have words even when she did, ultimately pretending to know nothing.

The life of an ornamental commoner permitted by Tienda remained there even if she sang miracles, even if she purified water to save the world.

And even that crumbled at some great noble’s declaration, leaving her anxious again.

She thought she would become a difficult person when she came to Tienda, but in fact, Ibi was more servile than ever before. And desperate.

Ruminating on this image of herself, Ibi belatedly regretted.

Ah, why couldn’t she slap that cheek when the Count rambled that she should ‘just do as she did now’?

Why did she politely send away that man who said she just needed to cling, hide, and plead cutely because he had personally chosen her?

Even after hearing such words, she pretended not to hear, pretended to have no pride, and ultimately pushed back while watching his reactions to see how far he would let her go. Only to the extent that wouldn’t upset him.

But she had no choice.

Because Ibi was still not difficult.

She only talked about becoming a difficult person, but was still just easy.

Painfully realizing this anew, Ibi deliberately tossed and turned to avoid being heard sighing.

It was the night before the new moon.