The twins of the Grand Duchy of Bayern had more infamous nicknames than anyone could count.
Brats. Troublemakers. Little monsters. Rotten children.
They were only nine-year-old boys.
The elder twin was Anselm, the younger Damian.
Their faces were identical. Their height was identical.
There was only one way to tell them apart:
One was clever.
The other was like a wild animal.
Having already learned about them through the aide, Ibel wasn't surprised at all when the twins failed to come out and greet her.
“Hello, milady! Ah, no, miss! My name is Eloi. The head maid has told me so much about you. Please take good care of me from now on!”
For the moment, Ibel had been shown to her personal bedroom so she could rest alone. While the tall maid, Eloi, busily unpacked her luggage, Ibel leaned against the windowsill and gazed outside.
She felt the need to organize everything she had observed while walking through the mansion.
Several enormous tapestries. Thick carpets covering the floors... and every window was tightly shut.
Not to mention—
No matter how thoroughly they cleaned, it seemed they had never managed to reach the mold growing in the cracks of the stone walls.
Or perhaps they were never ordered to clean those places in the first place.
In that brief walk, Ibel had inspected every panel, crevice, and corner of every staircase.
And now she was practically dying to clean them.
Those spots... those spots all need scrubbing!
Every last bit of mold!
But she hesitated.
Carelessly criticizing the state of the mansion could easily come across as an insult.
How should I put it so they won't be offended...? How can I tell them to clean more thoroughly...?
That was when it happened.
“!”
Crash!
The instant she sensed something targeting her, her body reacted before her mind could.
The window shattered violently.
A shower of glass rained down from above.
Ibel's reflexes were extraordinary.
The maid standing near the window, frozen in shock.
The breaking glass.
The scattered shards.
Danger.
All of it replayed in slow motion inside her mind.
Then—
“Get down!”
“Eek!”
Shouting sharply, Ibel tore down the curtain and threw it over both herself and the maid.
The fabric was so thick and heavy that the effort sent her tumbling to the floor.
But in the end...
No one seemed injured.
I don't smell blood.
Beneath the curtain's darkness, Ibel's amber eyes flashed fiercely.
It couldn't be helped.
Anyone who had spent years on a battlefield could never remain the same person they once were.
The deep scars left upon the mind lingered in her gaze.
Eloi shrank back in fear.
The quiet, gentle lady she had imagined had, for a fleeting moment, become absolutely terrifying.
And yet...
Her heart also pounded with admiration.
There's no need to wonder who pulled a stunt like this.
It had to be the young masters.
The servants were caught up in their pranks all the time. Minor injuries had become part of daily life.
But...
She protected me the moment she arrived.
She could have simply covered herself with the curtain and left me alone...
Completely unaware of Eloi's growing admiration, Ibel remained tense, scanning her surroundings like a wary animal.
There might be another attack.
Yes.
To her, this had been an attack.
“Ibel!”
Somewhere in her mind, she smelled gunpowder.
Her stomach turned cold.
Her nerves tightened.
It felt as though death had once again appeared before her eyes.
“Ibel, it's all right.”
A familiar voice pulled her from the crimson memories of war.
A voice she trusted.
One she had always trusted.
One she could continue trusting.
Victor.
Glass crunched beneath approaching footsteps.
The curtain was suddenly lifted away.
Before she could even look up, she found herself enveloped by strong arms.
“This wasn't an attack.”
How did he know?
His calm voice soothed her, and only then did Ibel realize she was trembling.
“You're safe, Ibel.”
After dismissing the maid with a glance, Victor looked out the shattered window.
A small head could be seen darting from tree to tree in the distance.
He had only just ordered the servants to search for Anselm.
And yet the boy had already caused another incident.
Victor knew the twins had driven away every tutor they'd ever had.
But they had never done something like this before.
Even so, leaving Ibel alone before Anselm was caught had been his mistake.
Holding her carefully, he sat her down on the bed before kneeling on one knee and inspecting her thoroughly.
Her neck.
Her ears.
Her ankles.
Every inch of exposed skin.
Checking for cuts, scratches, or embedded shards of glass.
“I'll send for a physician from town. I'm sorry.”
Covering themselves with the curtain had been exactly the right decision.
Otherwise, either the maid or Ibel would certainly have been injured.
He had brought her here believing it would be safe.
And not even an hour later, this happened.
His guilt was immense.
As was his anger toward Anselm.
Whenever Victor was home, the twins behaved themselves.
They actually tried not to cause trouble.
He had never realized they had become this uncontrollable.
And for it to be Anselm rather than Damian—
Again, whether he had known or not, the responsibility was his.
“Wait, Victor.”
Just as he was about to stand, Ibel stopped him.
Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and slowly counted backward.
When she opened them again, she was calm.
“I was just startled. I'm fine.”
“There is a problem. Didn't it bring back unpleasant memories?”
“No. I've had artillery shells fall on me before. Compared to that, a slingshot is nothing. Really. So don't punish the children immediately.”
Now that she had calmed down, she could think clearly.
It hadn't been artillery.
It had been a slingshot.
Whatever had been fired, it certainly wasn't an ordinary stone.
In other words, there had been hostility behind the act.
But still...
They were children, weren't they?
Before coming here, Matthias had warned her countless times that the twins would be difficult.
She already knew that.
And she knew their relationship with the Grand Duke was far from good.
“I apologize again. And I promise this will never happen a second time, Ibel.”
“Yes, that promise is one I expect you to keep.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she met his deep gaze.
The worry and anger in his eyes were almost tangible.
If he confronted the children now, he would undoubtedly scold them harshly.
Their relationship would only worsen.
In the long run, that wasn't the right choice.
Having gathered herself, she spoke calmly.
“Don't have Anselm dragged back. Let him return on his own. If you must punish him, restricting his outings should be enough. And if he wants to apologize, let him come and do it himself.”
Ibel was already analyzing the situation rationally.
Before arriving, she had memorized the twins' personalities and thought carefully about how to handle them.
If Anselm truly was as intelligent as everyone claimed, forcing an apology from him right now would accomplish nothing.
“...”
For a moment, Victor couldn't respond.
At once, he felt he had chosen the right person—
And wondered how she could remain so calm.
Yet as he looked into her amber eyes, he could tell she meant every word.
Finally, he nodded.
“Understood.”
“And don't feel too guilty. You know I'm not saying this because I'm some saintly person.”
“That's... true.”
When Ibel gave him a playful wink, some of the tension left Victor's face.
“You remember what I did to the officer who grabbed my backside, don't you?”
