IBTHM Chapter 12

At Abel's words, silence descended on the dining room once more.

The first to speak was the Countess.

She looked thoroughly displeased that Abel had dared say something to her, wearing the expression of a cat that had caught a mouse.

"Where does someone with no breeding—"

"Countess!"

This time it was me.

When I shouted, the Countess flinched in surprise.

"I'll see you again during your stay. Enjoy your meal. Let's go, Young Master."

I could overlook most levels of abuse, but I couldn't let young Abel hear this kind of venom in full.

I pulled Abel—who was clutching my skirt—and hurried out of the dining room, leaving behind the Countess's grumbling voice.

Countess Gaspel—Agatha—lifted the water glass on the table with trembling hands.

As the cold water slid down her throat, she regained some clarity.

She had been... out of sorts lately.

Hades, who had suddenly informed his vassals he was getting married, must have been absolutely determined.

He'd hammered in that he'd already sent the marriage documents, so there was no reversing it.

The other party was a provincial nobody from a shabby barony.

When she heard that this pauper—who couldn't even afford to properly employ attendants—had come all the way north empty-handed, Agatha's fury had risen to the top of her head, the intentions so transparently obvious.

"Are you in your right mind? Can't you distinguish between what's acceptable to say and what isn't? Count, you just sat there listening without stopping her?"

"Well, Your Grace. I subscribe to the philosophy of supporting what my wife does."

Mason scratched the tip of his nose and washed his hands of it.

Grinding her teeth, Hades shouted, "Damn it all! Agatha, apologize formally to Miss Esclife. Even as my older sister, I absolutely cannot overlook this."

Agatha stared at Hades with coldly sunken eyes.

He was her brother—capable and strong-willed enough that she'd been able to leave Ruvermonte in his hands without worry.

The Empire's Shield, Guardian of the North.

He had fully shouldered the heavy name carved into their family, and would continue to do so.

If only he wouldn't rot his insides over damned woman problems.

"First you rolled around carelessly with some lowborn thing and brought back a child, and now you bring some beggar from who-knows-where and seat her before me as your bride? If you were a man with his head on straight, could you do this? Don't you think about our family at all?"

"Watch your mouth. Being my older sister doesn't give you the right to interfere in my life. Who I bring in as Ruvermonte's mistress is even less your concern. Just apologize to Aisha."

Agatha was flabbergasted.

Apologize?

Worse than when he'd protected Abel, her brother seemed to have gone completely blind, wrapped up in a woman's skirts.

She thought of Aisha.

So that's how the provincial nobody with nothing to her name had seduced Hades—she was rather pretty.

Agatha despised women who didn't hesitate to lift their skirts and climb into a man's bed for advancement. Nausea surged up.

"A man lacking nothing, and of all things, it's the habit of chasing skirts..."

Her clenched teeth trembled.

Hades, too, was accustomed to Agatha's venom, so his face showed no reaction. Since it wasn't true, there was no reason to get worked up.

He simply spoke coldly, left the Count and Countess behind, and strode out of the dining room.

"She's my son, and she's the woman who will be my wife. If you don't show proper courtesy, I have no intention of treating you as my older sister anymore either. This is your last warning."

I escorted Abel directly to his room.

As I was about to part with him at the door, Abel gripped my hand tightly.

"Don't go."

"Pardon?"

"Don't go, please. If the Countess says mean things again, I'll, I'll protect you. I'll tell her to stop. So..."

The tears Abel had bravely held back until now finally showed themselves.

He kept wiping away the streaming tears with the back of his hand while mumbling.

Even while doing so, worried I might leave, he gripped and released my skirt with his wet hands several times.

I was at a loss for words.

In the novel, this was the Abel who'd never said a word of defiance despite all manner of abuse.

I knew what great courage it had taken for Abel to stand up for me like this.

We hadn't even had much time to grow close yet—what bond made him think of me this much...?

"Young Master."

I crouched down to meet Abel's eye level.

Hiccupping with his heated cheeks and reddened eyes from crying, Abel looked pitiable but adorable.

As I brushed away the tears on his cheek that he'd failed to wipe, I said, "I'm not going anywhere. Why would you think that?"

"But... but... You got hurt."

He seemed to think I must be quite shocked by the Countess's verbal assault.

Well, I was upset, but I was more worried about Abel.

If he'd been hearing such harsh abuse every time he met the Countess...

I couldn't fathom the wounds Abel—so much younger than me—must have received, and it made me a bit angry.

Was this... the kind of thing that could be forgiven just because she reformed later?

Psychologically abusing a child, then repenting later—was that supposed to make it okay?

I felt a bit confused. How I should treat the Countess going forward.

"I'm fine. What about you, Young Master? The Countess always spoke like that, didn't she?"

Abel suddenly seemed so pitiful that I stroked his head as I asked.

Abel shook his head vigorously.

"I'm fine. I don't mind at all. But Miss..."

"Mm. I'm fine too. So you don't need to worry about me running away because I'm hurt. I haven't even gotten close to you yet, Young Master—where would I go?"

"...Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Miss!"

"Oh my!"

Abel suddenly came in without any warning signal.

Because he grabbed me—still crouched down—in a hug, I swayed once before barely regaining my balance.

Good heavens...

What is this.

"Y-Young Master?"

My arms tried to move—trembling—to pull that small, precious body into a return embrace, but Abel pulled back in surprise before I could.

"...I, I, I'm sorry. I was rude again."

"Not at all!"

Could I hug him just once?

My deliberation wasn't long.

When I gently pulled the fidgeting Abel into an embrace, he hesitated slightly before hugging me back.

My heart swelled.

"Miss, you don't hate me?"

Hate you? Was this something that should come from the mouth of this precocious young child who'd never done a single thing worthy of hatred?

"Why would I hate you? The people who hate you, Young Master, are the strange ones. I've never seen such a lovely child. I don't hate you—I like you, you're precious."

"...Thank you."

Abel, on the verge of tears, hugged me even tighter.

I was beginning to understand.

The severity of those times that had been roughly described in a single sentence: 'His childhood was quite unfortunate.'

Because Abel's early years hadn't been covered at much length in the novel, I hadn't known—but time here didn't flow like it does in a novel.

Abel would have to endure a bleak childhood of being ignored and abused in its entirety.

Abel's appearance—so accustomed to the Countess's verbal assault that he seemed quite practiced—was heartbreaking.

I thought I had a vague sense of what I could do for Abel in this place.

"You didn't even eat—aren't you hungry?"

Abel hugged my neck tighter and shook his head.

His body, gone limp from crying and releasing tension, looked exhausted.

As I patted his small frame, I said, "Then let's eat after you sleep and wake up. Go on in."

"M-Miss!"

Abel grabbed onto me as I tried to stand, clinging desperately, and looked up with a tearful expression.

"Really... you're not, not going anywhere?"

Ah, heartbreak.

"Oh dear, I'm really not going anywhere. If you're that worried, shall I stay beside you until you fall asleep, Young Master?"

When I asked with the selfish desire to see precious Abel sleeping, his expression brightened considerably as he nodded repeatedly.

"Yes!"

Hades felt too ashamed to face Aisha immediately.

Preparing excuses with a shameless heart, he went to find her, but she wasn't in her room.

Belatedly remembering she'd gone out with Abel, he went to his room and found Aisha there, just as he'd thought.

On the bed where moonlight filtered in dimly—Abel sleeping obliviously and Aisha beside him.

She'd placed a chair beside Abel's bed and fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position, slumped over.

The moment Hades saw her like that...

For some reason, he felt an indescribable emotion.

"Miss."

Aisha gave no response, apparently fast asleep despite the uncomfortable position.

Looking troubled, Hades rubbed the tip of his eyebrow before removing his outer coat and carefully draping it over Aisha's shoulders.

'I came because I wanted to see him.'

The memory of Aisha looking straight at Agatha's face in the dining room suddenly surfaced, and his face grew hot.

He'd known she'd come all the way north because she wanted to see him, but...

Hades let out a deep sigh and quietly pulled over an empty chair to sit beside Aisha.

Slumped over, breathing steadily in her sleep, she didn't look much different from ten-year-old Abel.

Hades smiled slightly.

Even after hearing such harsh words from Agatha, she'd just kept bowing her head apologetically—it had been quite pitiful.

She'd probably endured it despite being hurt, thinking she needed to get along with Agatha to avoid causing him worry.

In a way, she was a bit of a foolish woman.

The way she looked after Abel like this too...

Hades, chin propped on the bed, found himself staring fixedly at Aisha's face without thinking.

'I came because I wanted to see him.'

And what a truly strange woman.

To say such things without any embarrassment...

The embarrassed one was Hades instead. Even his hand scratching the tip of his nose had turned red.

"Mm..."

That's when it happened.

Her long eyelashes seemed to flutter, and with a small groan, Aisha opened her eyes.

Her pale blue eyes were so pretty, like gemstones, that his gaze was captured.

Hades stared for a long while at those eyes shining in the moonlight, transfixed.

Forgetting that their faces—their noses—were close enough to touch.