APIBAGS Chapter 53

He must be warm from all this good sunlight.

Unlike me, who dressed lightly, he's layered up several times over—makes sense he'd be hot. The work you do, grandfather butler. I'll magnanimously overlook the verbal slip from before. Someone on an entirely different plane of existence should understand.

From someone who was once a worker herself, I can't just stand here while grandfather butler puts in this much effort at customer service. I should praise him to Lady Toten straight away. Tell the employer and the worker usually walks away with a bonus or at least a kind word.

"Are you toying with me?"

The sweating grandfather butler is now trembling furiously and glaring at me.

But I only praised him. Suddenly it's mockery? Surely he doesn't think I'm teasing him just for saying things that sounded too complimentary?

I'm mid-thought when I see my arm resting on grandfather butler's shoulder and nearly faint on the spot.

Why are you there.

It seems I went and patted his shoulder without knowing. The habit I had with our own butler just—! But what can I do when it came out unconsciously because their outfits are so similar!

I understand now why grandfather butler is furious. Even in a class society, a young kid patting you on the shoulder would be unpleasant, right.

Oh.

Eye contact.

As expected. Grandfather butler is trembling with wounded dignity.

But apparently he can't bring himself to say anything to a noble young lady—swallowing his anger, he continues guiding the way.

I worked so hard on the praise and one stray hand zeroed out every point of favorability.

I hate my hand.

"Looks like we've arrived."

Following quietly behind the butler, I finally reach the marchioness.

Finally. Escape.

Whatever that walk to the drawing room was, it felt like a year. I thought the tension was going to kill me.

Knock knock.

"My lady. I've brought Lady Rohanson."

"Come in."

A voice from inside, thoroughly exhausted.

The impression in person isn't much different. Lady Toten is on the fuller side, and yet there's a moment—the hollowness is so complete it produces a brief illusion of bone-thinness.

Only a moment. When Lady Toten smiles, the hollowness vanishes.

"Welcome. Was the journey difficult?"

Her manner of speaking turns elegant. So this is what long years in society make of a noblewoman. I admire it and take the seat across from her. The marchioness's maids swiftly arrange desserts and tea.

She must have been doing embroidery before I arrived. No matter how much I try, I only stab my own hand and generate alien script—but even a glance shows Lady Toten's skill is extraordinary.

"Were you in the middle of embroidery? I hope I haven't kept you waiting long."

"Not at all. I embroider for pleasure... Oh my. Looking at it this way, it resembles you."

She must have been embroidering an angel. Well—Evangeline's face is pretty, at least. I still startle myself at the mirror sometimes.

There were sun god sculptures and paintings all along the way here. Lady Toten must have deep faith. Which is probably why she agreed to chaperone me at Gabriel's request.

"It resembles you more than me."

"Ha ha, what a pretty thing to say. As you'll have heard from Sir Gabriel, I'll be taking on the role of your chaperone. I'm called Kinder Toten."

"Evangeline Rohanson. It must have been a difficult request, and I'm grateful you accepted so willingly."

"Not at all. Lady Rohanson's situation is pitiable... If there's something I can do to help, helping is only right. And I have a separate debt to Sir Gabriel, so please don't feel burdened by it."

"What kind of debt?"

Lady Toten smiles without answering and lifts her teacup.

Ah. This is something Dolly taught me. Eating or drinking something is the non-verbal signal for not wanting to answer. Teacher, I caught it! I'm getting a lot of mileage out of Dolly's lessons today. I'll have to go report back later.

I pick up my fork.

Lady Toten watches me eat in silence for a long while.

She must be assessing my table manners. Gabriel asked her, but she probably wants to judge for herself. I eat with deliberate care.

I'm so tense I can't tell whether the fork is heading toward my mouth or my nose. I'm going to get indigestion, aren't I. I put the fork down. I thought I'd eaten a decent amount, but looking at the plate, it seems to have gone down by a fingernail's worth.

Right at that moment, Lady Toten sets down her teacup and asks.

"Why does Lady Rohanson wish to enter society? With Sir Gabriel in the picture, it wouldn't be for the marriage market. A late debut might only inflate the existing rumors further."

That was Gabriel asking me—not me wanting to.

And honestly, there's no great meaning behind it. A social debut is just the natural next beat in romance fantasy, so I decided to do it. Even if I'm skipping the romance, I've already ended up in a romance fantasy body. Shouldn't I at least attend one ball.

But I can't say that.

No one tells the truth in a job interview. I need to dress this up into something plausible. I think about it, and a decent excuse surfaces.

"Do you know my maternal family?"

"...House Hosaquin."

"Yes. Then you'll have heard that my mother and my maternal grandfather were estranged."

The precious youngest daughter of a ducal family—going against her family to run off and marry a count, as though eloping. There must have been considerable talk in society at the time.

"When my mother passed away, and when I fell ill and took to bed, there was no contact from the ducal house whatsoever."

When I asked our estate's butler about it, he said Evangeline's mother sent several letters and received not one answer back. And of course they didn't come to the funeral.

"My mother wanted so much to speak with my maternal grandfather again. It wasn't quite a dying wish—but I want to fulfill that hope on her behalf."

Evangeline's mother actually did write quite often in her diary that she'd been wrong, that she wanted to go back. Of course, the passages devoted to cursing her husband the count made up the overwhelming majority—but still.

Ah, that diary has gotten a lot thinner since I've been tearing out a page to send the count every time I need something from him. He probably treats each one as an unpleasant note, but it's my small revenge. Who told him to be faithless in marriage. A disaster entirely of his own making. I wish there were another diary.

"If they treated my mother that way, they'll treat me even more coldly for bearing the Rohanson name. If I went in person, I'd obviously be turned away at the door. So I'm hoping—since they'll come to the banquet—to at least see them from a distance."

For something I just improvised, it's an implausibly good answer.

If I could shed a few sorrowful tears here it would be perfect. But I'm not an actor and can't manage that level of immersion.

"Was that answer sufficient?"

"Was it...?"

Hm. Not quite the reaction I was expecting. Since she was someone who felt sympathy toward Evangeline, I thought she'd take my hand and say, Oh, so that was how it was.

Wait. Gabriel was the one who arranged the chaperone in the first place—hasn't she already heard everything?

I chose the wrong answer. I should have just spoken honestly.

"Did Sir Gabriel speak with you in advance?"

I'm still fumbling with how to recover when Lady Toten covers her mouth and laughs.

"I didn't hear the details—but I do know that Sir Gabriel was the one who asked Lady Rohanson first."

Then why did you ask why I wanted to debut in society! I thought my head was going to explode squeezing out an excuse from thin air.

"So you're simply helping Sir Gabriel, and there's no other reason?"

"Was what I just told you not an answer?"

"But for someone wanting to fulfill the wishes of a dearly missed mother, you spoke far too dryly, my lady. In truth—you don't miss her at all. And you have no real reason to meet with House Hosaquin. Do you?"

"Yes. That's correct."

She hit the mark exactly.

Even from a romance fantasy standpoint, the ducal family running an estrangement-and-regret arc at this point is a bit late. And from my own standpoint—the mother I miss is mine. Not Evangeline's.

I thought I'd spoken with decent emotional resonance. Apparently the problem is my acting ability.

Could it be that even the Daisy business being found out was because of my terrible acting. I thought it was obvious because I was too kind! It was the acting all along!

"But... why did you say all of that, when I asked?"

"Because it was the more plausible-sounding answer. Is it a problem?"

Please say it isn't a problem. It would be deeply awkward to go to Gabriel and explain that Lady Toten—the woman he went out of his way to help—won't be my chaperone. If he asks why, I'd have to say I got caught in a lie. My favorability with him would tank.

"No. Why would it be a problem. I only asked to satisfy my own curiosity—I was wondering whether there was some other purpose. Of course, regardless of the answer, I had no intention of reneging on Sir Gabriel's request."

So she absolutely would not have been my chaperone if not for Gabriel's request.

But is that really all? The butler and Gabriel both told me she received the invitation out of sympathy, seeing Evangeline and projecting her son onto her. And I was warned that Lady Toten might ask about the secret to recovery.

"I thought you agreed to be my chaperone because there was something you wanted to hear from me."

"Something I'd want to hear from Lady Rohanson?"

"Yes. For example—how did Evangeline Rohanson rise from her sickbed?"

"That..."

I let the corner of my mouth curve as I say it. A crack opens in Lady Toten's expression.

So that was it.

Just as I'm about to say what the butler warned me to say—that I have no way to help, firmly and without qualification—there's a knock at the door.

Before anyone says come in, the door opens slowly.

Lady Toten had barely begun to furrow her brow at the uninvited guest's rudeness—then she saw who it was. She startled, rose in a single motion, and rushed across the room.

"Cough, cough. Mother..."

"Ryder! Why haven't you stayed in bed?"