COARV Chapter 38

Linon left to check the manor's repair needs once more. Apparently once a year, they hired tight-lipped plasterers to fix major structural flaws.

"My lady, you didn't think His Grace would blind the plasterers, did you?"

Who exactly was cultivating his lord's reputation? In any case, such thoroughness explained why rumors about Laurel Manor never reached the capital's social circles. The central Grand Duchy rarely received outside nobles anyway.

Though half-ruined by solidified demonic energy, the manor's elegant bones remained visible. Looking at the enormous tapestries hanging in the first-floor hall, I wondered how they managed laundry, then checked the clock and headed for the kitchen.

The dining hall must have been sealed—only faint warmth flowed from the servants' dining area attached to the kitchen. I'd heard that in harsh winter regions, entire households gathered around the hearth to work together. This place was similar.

The chambermaid and gardener were sewing something, but upon seeing me, they said, "We can't have lint falling into breakfast," and fled the dining room instantly.

'Do they dislike me?'

Given how rarely we crossed paths, such feelings seemed natural. Well, I'd grown so accustomed to being disliked as Seria that hatred barely registered anymore. While I pondered this, Masha and Ben welcomed me warmly.

"Lady Seria."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning."

At my greeting, Masha spoke with worried concern.

"What shall we do about the sorcerers' delay, my lady? This place isn't suitable for someone as refined as you."

"I'm fine. I actually like it here."

Not empty courtesy—I genuinely enjoyed this green manor. Wasn't there a saying about wealth lasting three generations even after ruin? This manor, once beautiful enough for high society, remained impressive despite its half-ruined state from solidified demonic energy. I couldn't help marveling during my tours.

Most of all, I loved how remote it felt. Like visiting a secret villa in quiet snowy mountains, unknown to anyone.

Since possessing Seria's body, I'd spent every day working efficiently and desperately to survive. This kind of rest felt foreign after so long.

Watching the snow-laden landscape outside, walking through the manor where encountering another soul felt rare—the solidified demonic energy became almost ignorable. I truly liked this vast, quiet manor.

"I'm honored you find it pleasant, Lady Seria."

Ben spoke with a hint of warmth in his expression.

"Breakfast is nearly ready."

I stared at the table, bewildered. On the pale yellow marble dining table—befitting Laurel Manor's reputation—sat a row of cakes.

Every single one boasted decoration too elaborate for a relatively modest manor. One featured delicately piped melted chocolate forming a whimsical spider web. Another displayed candied fruit arranged artistically atop pound cake. A brown country-style cake glazed with molasses...

'Isn't this the work of Berke Castle's pâtissier?'

Masha smiled.

"Until two years ago, Linon loved sweets terribly. He'd devour puddings, chocolates, candied fruits without leaving crumbs... But last year he started eating less, claiming health concerns. So when His Grace brought all these cakes again this year, I was puzzled. But apparently you love cake, my lady?"

"Hm? Me?"

I tilted my head.

"I like desserts, but I'm not crazy about cake to this degree."

This was clearly enough for several people to enjoy enthusiastically for days. Seria Stern possessed the blessed constitution of never gaining weight no matter how much she ate—befitting the original story's official villainess—and I did enjoy sweet, pretty treats, but wasn't this excessive? The mere sight of eating it all alone was daunting.

"...Pardon?"

Masha looked at Ben in confusion. Ben appeared equally bewildered.

"When I asked His Grace if the cakes unloaded from the supply wagon were for you, my lady, he definitely answered 'yes.'"

"..."

Crackle, crackle. The hearth fire slowly consumed logs. Silence settled over the dining room. A memory surfaced with uncanny clarity—Lesche's words.

'The others insisted they liked this manor and wanted to stay. Obviously a lie.'

He'd been shipping massive quantities of desserts here annually. Using Linon as an excuse. This year, he'd used me. I could guess what this meant.

"Ben."

"Yes, Lady Seria?"

"What reason did you give His Grace for liking this manor?"

"Pardon? Ah, well..."

Ben cleared his throat awkwardly. His manner suggested he'd immediately grasped why I was asking.

"Have you seen the rock cliff on the garden's left side? It's sugar... I told him it suited my taste."

Ben's voice carried regret as he recalled the past.

"His Grace came asking when he'd just inherited the Grand Duke's position."

'Do you think Masha would be pleased to die here with you in this ruin? I'll take responsibility for your damned sympathy—just come back to the main castle.'

'Young master.'

'Leave.'

'...We've eaten only this manor's sugar for so long that spices from elsewhere no longer suit our palates. Young master... I mean, Your Grace. Susan and Joanna feel the same.'

'We can't even eat desserts unless they contain the manor's rock sugar.'

Ben's recollection left me strangely unsettled. Lesche knew it was all lies. Knew, yet kept making and bringing desserts.

The meaning wasn't hard to grasp. If only Lesche had spoken one sincere sentence, it would have been:

"Plenty of sweet things exist outside—come out."

That's what he'd meant. He knew all along these were lies meant to reassure him.

What had Lesche thought while loading these absurd quantities of desserts onto wagons repeatedly? Thinking of Masha, bound to these ruins because his own blood tried to drive him from succession. Thinking of those who'd chosen to remain beside her.

"Oh dear..."

Masha made an uncharacteristic sound of distress. Ben's expression mirrored hers.

"I truly didn't realize that was his meaning."

"The young master is young, so young."

Where exactly is he young?

With that build. That height. That coldness. My thoughts must have shown on my face. Masha erased her bitter expression and smiled gently.

"Perhaps because I've watched His Grace since childhood, he still just looks young to me."

What's young about him? The contrary thought lasted only a moment. Watching Ben and Masha's helpless reactions, I kept remembering Lesche's darkened red eyes.

My chest ached somehow.

"I can't remember the last time I braided a lady's hair."

After breakfast, Masha braided my hair. I hadn't asked anyone to pack accessories, yet the diligent maids at the main castle had included jeweled and ribboned hairpins in my luggage. Masha selected pins shaped like daisy flowers, weaving them strand by strand through the braid.

"When do the sorcerers leave the manor?"

The Nesla Kingdom sorcerers had arrived earlier.

"Probably they'll stay one day. They'll remain on the fourth floor, so you won't encounter them, my lady."

"I won't go up to the fourth floor either."

The Grand Temple treated sorcerers from other continents as heretics. As such, the sorcerers would likely tremble if they noticed me, but avoiding each other seemed easier for everyone. What would the original Seria Stern have done? She probably would have raged about plucking out heretics' eyes if they dared glance at her.

Entirely plausible.

I laughed softly, watching Masha open a jar of balm in the mirror.

"Oh my. This balm smells wonderful. Is it lily? Here at the manor we can easily obtain mugwort, so we make mugwort balm—smelling flower balm makes such a pleasant change."

Balm the main castle maids had packed. Masha rubbed some between her palms and applied it lightly to my hair ends. Sweet fragrance circled my nose.

"Here, this is a shawl Susan and Joanna made. Wear this when you go out."

Then I received an unexpected gift.

I thought they disliked me. So this is what they were making in the dining room earlier.

The hooded shawl Susan and Joanna had made showed impressive quality for something crafted hastily. I thanked them and tied the shawl's ribbon snugly.

The place I visited wearing the thick shawl was merely the manor's garden. When I'd first arrived, I'd been shocked to find all the plants dead, but now that snow covered everything, even that wasn't visible. The atmosphere felt pastoral now, like an ordinary countryside manor's garden.

I gazed at the silent, snow-blanketed expanse of garden. Lesche said he only came here when sorcerers visited. Even then, he never stayed long before returning. Of course, he was the Grand Duke ruling vast territory, the man responsible for guarding the glacier tomb of demonic beasts—naturally he'd be busy.

Perhaps it was presumptuous, but I thought I understood why Lesche left quickly. This place shouldn't be observed too long. Even knowing solidified demonic energy writhed directly behind me, the quiet pervading this vast manor put the heart at ease. And then there were the people guarding the green manor.

Each time the season ripened, one might want to come stay here...

I'm getting attached to Laurel Manor.

Damn. Not actually a good sign.

Wasn't it dangerous to grow fond of this manor? This was the male protagonist's real home in the original story. But human hearts are perverse—I'd been entertaining other thoughts too. This place never appeared in the original novel anyway. A place Lina wouldn't come. A place that would vanish before she arrived.

So maybe it was acceptable for me to grow attached to this one location. This manor wouldn't seek out Lina like Kallis had. I'd never share this place with Lina... I recognized I was tilting toward whatever comforted me, but it was true.

What if I could purify this place? I'm a Stern, after all.

Carrying faint hope, I went back inside the manor.