IFAHWIPUTML Chapter 20

It had been a week and some change since Verasielle and Raphel had arrived at the Duke's estate.

During that time, Chayston had been ordering Rohan to report daily on Veras's movements. Today he was receiving a summary.

"Nothing particularly unusual to report. The child isn't being forced or harmed—quite the opposite, really. The staff says she plays with him gently. There's already talk among the servants that she's the perfect guardian."

Rohan delivered this from his seat across from Chayston, who was staring out the window without expression.

His gaze landed on the garden, where Verasielle and Raphel were playing with the kind of joy that suggested they were having the time of their lives. They weren't trying to hide smiles. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were actually family.

"Additionally, we've confirmed that she's been returning or reselling all the luxury items she'd previously purchased."

Rohan added this as he watched Chayston's reaction—or lack thereof. Apparently, Veras's old spending spree had manifested everywhere: used goods shops were suddenly flooded with her castoffs. Which was... strange. Not what the reports had suggested about her character at all.

"It really is different from the rumors."

Rohan moved closer to the window, watching the two of them play. He was thinking out loud now. "Perhaps she's had a change of heart?"

Chayston didn't respond.

"Or maybe the rumors were exaggerated to begin with," Rohan continued carefully, gauging the Duke's reaction. "Rumors do have a way of twisting truth into fiction and presenting both as fact."

Still nothing from Chayston. Just his steady, unwavering gaze fixed on the window.

Down in the garden, Verasielle and Raphel clasped hands and started heading inside. The smile on her face as she looked at Raphel was as transparent as glass.

It was true that the Verasielle he'd encountered so far was different from the rumors. They said she was constantly indulging in extravagant luxuries, but he hadn't seen her desperately wanting things or obsessing over possessions.

When they'd first met, he'd suspected she was psychologically abusing the child. But nothing since that day had suggested that was true.

If anything—just as Rohan had said—she was taking meticulous care of him. And on the day they'd gone out, the knight had reported that she'd actually positioned herself between Raphel and danger to protect him.

Chayston understood rumors better than most people. He'd experienced them firsthand. He'd been a victim of them.

"Keep watching."

But he couldn't afford to trust her just yet.

"And remind them to send the antidote as quickly as possible."

There was smoke without fire sometimes, but there was also fire that hid itself very, very well. Chayston had learned that the hard way.

"Yes, understood. I'll send another request."

Rohan didn't argue. He understood his employer well enough to know that suspicion was sometimes the only smart choice.

"Raphel, I found you!"

Verasielle called out loudly. The two of them were in the middle of a game of hide-and-seek.

"Eek!"

Raphel curled into the smallest ball he could manage, then carefully, carefully peeked out from behind his hiding spot to check where Verasielle was.

She was wandering through the hallway, looking around deliberately, clearly searching for him.

"Mmph!"

He pressed his back flat against the wall, covered his mouth with his tiny hands, and held his breath. His red eyes were absolutely steely with determination. Not getting caught this time.

"Raphel~ Where are you? Are you here?"

Her voice was getting closer. Raphel's heart started hammering in his chest. The suspense was killing him. He couldn't help peeking again.

"Where could you be~?"

Veras sounded amused. Raphel realized with a spike of panic that if he stayed here, she'd catch him in seconds. This hiding spot was too obvious. Too exposed.

He had to move.

As silently as he could manage, he dropped to all fours and crawled down the hallway, scurrying around a corner like his life depended on it.

This was their fifth game of the day. Veras had won every single one. But today—today, Raphel was going to win.

He pushed himself to his feet and took off running, checking over his shoulder. Veras hadn't made it to the corner yet.

He was actually going to do this. He could feel it. He ran down the hallway, looking frantically for somewhere—anywhere—to hide.

"Hmm……"

Except there was nowhere. All the doors were firmly closed, locked tight. There were pillars, sure, but Veras would spot him behind those in seconds.

Then—

"Rest now, I'll be right back."

—a door opened, and out stepped Rohan. Without thinking, Raphel bolted straight for him.

"Hide me!"

"Pardon? Raphaleon, what's going on?"

Rohan crouched down to meet him at eye level. He was still calling Raphel by his full name rather than his title—a habit born of uncertainty about whether he could use "Young Master" yet.

"Hide me, please!"

Raphel kept glancing over his shoulder, his small arms wrapping around Rohan's neck.

"Ah, a game of hide-and-seek, then?"

Rohan figured it out immediately. He lifted Raphel up easily, cradling him in one arm.

"Where should we hide you?"

"Quickly, quickly!"

Nervous energy was radiating off Raphel in waves. He was tugging at Rohan's collar like his life depended on it.

"Of course. Let me move."

Rohan adjusted his pace and headed out of the hallway, finding the nearest staircase and descending to the first floor. He was already strategizing the best hiding spot as Raphel scanned their surroundings anxiously.

"There! There!"

Raphel's short fingers pointed at the archway.

"The dining room?"

"Yes! Quickly, quickly! Gulp!"

Raphel had been happily shouting until he realized—oh no, Veras might hear me—and immediately clamped both hands over his own mouth. His big bright eyes darted around nervously.

It was adorable. Rohan smiled warmly and headed into the dining room.

"Down, down!"

The moment they were inside, Raphel started wriggling, eager to get down. Rohan set him gently on the floor, and Raphel immediately tore toward the kitchen like his hair was on fire.

"Raphel, if you run like that, you'll trip!"

Rohan called after him, worried, but Raphel was already gone, hurtling deeper into the dining room with the single-minded focus of a five-year-old on a mission.

Pitter-patter-pitter went his feet as he sprinted into the kitchen.

"Wait, Raphel, it's dangerous in here!"

Molls, the kitchen assistant who'd been cleaning up, spotted him and immediately jumped up. Rohan came running after them both.

"Hehehehe!"

Raphel found it hilarious that they were chasing him. He giggled, tearing through the kitchen, dodging between stations with the kind of chaos only a joyful child could create.

"Raphel!"

"If you run like that, you'll fall!"

The adults' hearts had basically become peas from anxiety, but Raphel was having none of it. He kept running, his small frame slipping past their outstretched hands like water.

The floor had just been cleaned, so at least he wasn't slipping—but that didn't stop the adults' panic from escalating.

"If you fall, it'll hurt!"

Rohan tried to catch him, but Raphel was fast. His small body kept wriggling away, impossibly quick.

"Ugh!"

"Ah!"

Then—disaster. Molls's feet went out from under him on the wet floor. He landed hard, crack-splash, directly in Rohan's path. Rohan, unable to stop in time, tripped over Molls and went flying, crashing hard into the prep counter.

"Watch out!"

Molls tried to warn him, but the impact dislodged a bag of flour sitting on top of the counter. It tumbled down—directly onto Rohan's head.

Whomp.

"Cough-cough!"

Rohan's entire face was now a cloud of white powder. Every time he coughed, flour puffed into the air around him like some kind of terrible snow effect.

The floor was basically a flour mountain at this point.

"Flour! Snow!"

Raphel, who'd been gleefully evading his pursuers, stopped dead in his tracks. He'd just spotted Rohan, completely buried in white, and his eyes went wide.

Then he took off running straight toward him.

It was like watching someone discover their own personal wonderland made of snow.

Meanwhile, Verasielle was standing in front of the pillar where she'd seen Raphel's black hair.

'Okay, that's probably been long enough to count as a good hiding spot now.'

She'd been wandering around for a while, doing her best to look like she was really searching. She was pretty confident she could find him if she actually tried.

She rounded the corner behind the pillar and peeked over.

"Raphel, I found you—wait. Where did he go?"

Raphel wasn't there. She hadn't seen him leave. That was... weird.

"Where'd he disappear to?"

This wasn't like the other rounds. Raphel was usually terrible at hiding. But today was different.

Verasielle started searching in earnest. She checked behind pillars, she opened doors one by one, she investigated corners. But there was nothing. Not a single strand of his hair. It was like he'd vanished.

"Raphel? Where are you?"

She called out, waiting for the sound of his characteristic giggle. Nothing.

He's not nearby, then.

She opened the next door on impulse.

"Raphel!"

What greeted her was a large desk and some impressively tall bookshelves. A library, basically. Books of all kinds lined the shelves—imperial history, cultural studies, alchemy, magic theory. Genuinely interesting subjects.

Verasielle's instinct kicked in. He's definitely in here.

"Raphel~, I know you're around here somewhere."

He'd hidden himself really thoroughly this time. She could barely see anything.

She moved between the shelves carefully, checking the gaps.

Her attention was caught by something else entirely. The sheer variety of books was... impressive. They covered everything from empire history to advanced magical theory.

What is all this?