“I want to become someone who can slap a high nobleman’s cheek.”

“What nonsense are you spouting as soon as you wake up…”

As Ibi declared her new ambition while lying in bed, Dies, standing in front of the mirror, chided her with bleary eyes.

It was a bright, clear morning.

Ibi, who had been a bit sentimental last night, stretched wide towards the early morning.

Then she said to Dies, who was already changing clothes and buttoning his cuffs.

“If I have to compromise, I’d be fine with someone who can kick their shins.”

“Both cheeks and shins are too difficult. You need to come to your senses, so go wash your face first.”

At Dies’s reasonable reprimand, Ibi obediently headed to the washroom. Then she deliberately splashed cold water on her face.

After washing away the remnants of the night, Ibi entrusted her wet hair to Dies and said,

“Yesterday, the Count revealed his identity first. It seems he didn’t really intend to hide it.”

Whether he thought there was no use hiding, or that there was no need to hide at all, she wasn’t sure.

“But the more I see him, isn’t he different from what we’ve heard? That person.”

Ibi said this while recalling the rumors about the Count.

According to social circles, Sion Laurel is a person with flawless beauty, dazzling blonde hair, and eyes completely devoid of life and vitality.

But the Count’s eyes that Ibi had seen so far were far from empty, always brimming with something. Tenacity, arrogance, and nastiness, to name a few.

“It’s certainly far from being described as hollow.”

Dies seemed to share a similar thought, answering as he dried Ibi’s hair with a towel.

“But being hollow would be normal. The Laurel Counts have been that way for generations.”

“So even nobles inherit such things. Impressive…”

“That’s not exactly what I meant…”

Dies elaborated on Ibi’s spiritless admiration.

“There are two theories about this. One is that they train to empty their minds to receive Tardes’s blessing. Because if someone with the power to bring down dragons has selfish desires, it would surely cause problems.”

“That problem has already occurred.”

Here sits Ibi Ariate, specifically targeted and buried by someone with the power to bring down dragons.

Ibi pouted, thinking again how capricious her situation was.

“And the other is that it’s an illness caused by the battle with Amaneser.”

“An illness?”

“It’s seen as the mind breaking due to excessive shock, and this is the more prevalent theory.”

Amaneser. A mad dragon as vast as Tienda.

Ibi tried to imagine what it would feel like to fight such a being.

But unable to grasp it at all, she instead recalled being surrounded by Tardes’s daughters a few days ago.

It was scary…

Ibi shuddered, remembering the red dragons who were friendly to humans but a bit mischievous.

If even one daughter pouncing felt life-threatening, Amaneser must be…

“There’s a story of a watcher who went mad just from seeing Amaneser take flight. If just seeing it does this much, those fighting fiercely would naturally struggle to maintain their sanity.”

But no matter how she looked at it, the current Count wasn’t an empty person, but rather one with a twisted inside.

Ibi felt somewhat dejected as she recalled the Count’s history.

Sion Laurel became Count and went down to the border seven years ago.

Given that he’s twenty-four this year, he was sent to such a place when he was a seventeen-year-old boy.

Thinking that he’s been fighting the calamity called Amaneser since then, it’s somewhat understandable why his personality turned out that way.

Ibi nodded inwardly, and Dies, having sufficiently dried Ibi’s hair, picked up a comb instead of the towel and continued speaking.

“In any case, it’s true that Sion Laurel is different from previous Counts. Both in terms of his revealed personality and the speed at which he repels Amaneser.”

“Speed?”

“Originally, engagements with Amaneser would last for days. The Count also fought that long at first, but he gradually reduced the time, and now he subdues Amaneser in just a few hours. The border claims this as stable surveillance, but it should be seen as an unprecedented event.”

Whether it’s impressive or dangerous.

Either way, something is different.

Could this difference be related to the ‘debt’ the Count mentioned?

Ibi pondered this and continued speaking.

“The Count told me yesterday. The person he’s indebted to is the astrologer uncle I know.”

Dies’s combing paused briefly before resuming.

Judging by his lack of surprise, he must have made a similar guess as soon as he saw the Count in this house.

“Then can we trust him?”

“I don’t know.”

Ibi furrowed her brow at the butler’s question. Then she spoke as if reading from a book.

“Marquis Montra likes Ibi. But he dislikes an Ibi entangled with Count Laurel.”

This is the obvious result of calculation.

Everything changes in value depending on the situation.

Just as the value of a sweet candy and an ant-infested candy differs.

“Then what about a Count who boasts he’ll look after Ibi because he owes a debt to the astrologer? Will he look after an Ibi entangled with the Tower Master just the same?”

Yesterday, the Count mentioned the astrologer and told Ibi to recalculate.

But Ibi thought it was rather the Count who needed to calculate.

Being such a powerful figure, he might confidently promise to save a commoner girl in any way.

But what if he learns that commoner girl is in the grasp of the Tower Master?

Would he still step forward willingly to save me then?

“It’s not an easy judgment.”

“How about discussing this with the Count?”

“That’s dangerous.”

At Dies’s resolute answer, Ibi clicked her tongue as if she had expected it.

Tower Master Rohika Sedro is a high noble on par with Laurel.

They are superior to other high nobles because they support the world with the dragons’ blessing, and for this reason, they never encroach on each other’s domains.

So it’s uncertain whether the Count would break that taboo to repay his debt.

But she can’t confide this to the Count and leave the calculation to him either.

If she reveals anything about the underground of Manyanya Tower to outsiders, her head might fly off to the Tower Master, saint or not.

“I wish there was an enormous scale. To weigh each problem I have one by one.”

“Well, we have the tower, so we just need to find two plates.”

Dies threw a humorless joke at Ibi’s vain lament. So Ibi let out a dry laugh.

“I need to stay here longer.”

Although she should move this morning to meet a helper to break the curse, Ibi decided to change her schedule.

She judged that removing the obstacle named Sion Laurel was more urgent than breaking the curse.

So Ibi made up her mind to meet again with the person she wanted to slap last night.

This too is a cowardly decision, but Ibi took it lightly.

When even the world forcibly turns by relying on miracles, dignity in Ibi Ariate’s difficult life is clearly a luxury.

So Ibi decided to struggle again.

.

.

.

Dies sent back the carriage that had been waiting. And he sent a letter to the helper by that means.

Breakfast was a bit late due to Dies going out and coming back.

Even so, the Count didn’t come down until breakfast was over, and Lady Marso complained that the teacher always skips breakfast after reading books late into the night.

Because the Count didn’t come down, Ibi put in her earplugs. With Dies beside her, she could easily brush off Lady Marso’s trivial questions.

Thus, the time until tea after breakfast passed smoothly.

It was like the last line of peace that could be enjoyed before the dark moon.

“But why are you going out on the dark moon day, you’ll get in big trouble.”

Lady Marso suddenly worried.

So Ibi felt a bit strange.

In her childhood, Ibi too feared and guarded against the dark moon night.

But during the past 5 years staying in Tienda, she completely forgot about the dark moon.

In Tienda, Noche’s curse couldn’t approach, so even the dark moon wasn’t dangerous.

It was a moment when she freshly felt how different Bis and Tienda were.

With the jingling of bells, a girl rushed into the house.

“Huh?”

The girl, about ten years old, came in as if this was her own house, then stopped abruptly upon seeing the unfamiliar people sitting with Lady Marso.

Among them, she stared particularly at Ibi and asked bluntly.

“Who are you, sister?”

“This sister is Ibi Ariate, who will become the saint.”

“That’s a joke.”

“Yes, it’s a joke.”

To wrap the truth as a joke, Ibi chuckled and Dies laughed.

But the child didn’t laugh and overtly looked at them strangely.

“What brings you here so early? You don’t have class today.”

At Lady Marso’s question, the child lowered her guard and answered.

“I have something to give to the teacher.”

“The teacher is still sleeping, shall grandma deliver it?”

“No, I want to give it myself.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.”

While the lady chuckled, the child bounced up to the second floor. Then she bounced back down and complained.

“Teacher locks his door when he sleeps!”

“That’s because you kids always barge in.”

“Then I’ll wait in the small room.”

“Didn’t your mom tell you to stay home today?”

“It’s fine until lunchtime!”

Saying that, the child went up to the second floor again.

Then Lady Marso said with a smile,

“That child is particularly fond of the teacher. Come to think of it, she’s like you in the old days, Ibi.”

Ibi’s heart stung for no reason. So she laughed awkwardly and turned her eyes towards the stairs.

“Can I go upstairs too?”

“Sure, it’s fine. The kids come and go anyway.”

Ibi had been unable to go up because that bastard Count rented the entire second floor, but with permission granted, she immediately headed upstairs.

Then, still looking around the corridor, she found the child in a half-open room.

Coincidentally, it was the room Ibi used to use in the past.

“Oh.”

Sensing someone’s presence, the child turned to look at Ibi. Then she asked bluntly again.

“Sister, are you really going to be the saint?”

“Not yet. … You know that was a joke earlier, right?”

Ibi approached the child with a forced smile.

The child was lying on the floor carpet, busily writing something in a notebook.

“What are you doing now?”

“Homework.”

“Did the teacher assign it?”

“Yes.”

“Is the teacher nice to you?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you. Actually, I’m not really curious.”

Suddenly strange words came out, and Ibi hurriedly closed her mouth.

The child’s expression became strange. So as Ibi was hastily trying to explain, the child suddenly nodded with satisfaction.

“You’re being sincere. Sister, you’re very honest.”

Surprised by the unexpected words, Ibi blinked her eyes.

Not rude, but honest. For some reason, this one word felt fresh to Ibi.

So as she was standing there blankly, the child chattered while stamping her feet.

“All the sisters interested in our teacher ask like that. Do you like our teacher too?”

“No, I really dislike your teacher.”

Ah, I spoke too honestly again.

But the child accepted it calmly this time as well.

“I felt your sincerity again. That’s right, our teacher has a bad personality so many people dislike him. Since you spoke honestly, I’ll tell you too. The teacher and I are in a relationship to be married.”

“Um… I see…?”

“But the teacher doesn’t know yet.”

Thank goodness. I almost came to hate humanity.

As Ibi was quietly sighing in relief, the child asked again.

“Do you think the teacher will accept my proposal?”

“I’m not sure about that, but if he does accept, you should run away. That would be a pervert worse than a beast.”

Even though random words kept coming out, her heart felt at ease. It was a sense of liberation she hadn’t felt since being cursed.

Why does this make me feel so relieved?

Ibi felt somehow moved.

But that emotion didn’t last long.

“What are you saying to a child…”

A heavily groggy voice was heard from behind.

And that voice once again choked off Ibi’s breath that had momentarily cleared.