“…What?”
For a moment, time seemed to stop entirely.
I stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes, and he tilted his chin toward the paper.
Surely not. Is it real?
I startled out of my shock and reached for it, still half-seated against his chest.
“Direct-line registration…”
More precisely, it wasn’t labeled as adoption— it said direct-line registration.
Something like a formal family register in our world, perhaps?
I reached out as though drawn by a current and turned the paper over in my hands.
Above me, a warm, gentle sound of laughter spilled down.
“Sign it. You’re not exactly an ordinary child— but I believe I can manage you, which is why I’m offering.”
My heart felt like it might float off somewhere.
So he really had run away for me.
To rescue me.
“Sir—!”
I launched myself off the chair and threw my arms around his neck.
“…Yes.”
He didn’t even flinch at the sudden ambush. He simply picked me up, easy as anything.
“Grow up just like this. Don’t hide from me again.”
And one large hand moved in slow, steady circles across my back.
“Sniff. Yes— yes, sir! I’ll be a devoted daughter to you!”
“…Devoted? What does that mean?”
“It means I’ll be the garden-man’s golden seed.”
It wasn’t, technically, the wisest choice.
By running off with me, the garden-man had suddenly put both of us at risk of being pursued by two noble families.
But what mattered was that he had adopted me.
I need to grow up quickly. Strong enough to protect him.
“Well— if you’re going to become something, make it something grand. An S-rank mercenary isn’t nearly impressive enough for my standards.”
“Sniff. Understood.”
Still in his arms, I signed the registration paper.
“There. I signed. So now you’re my legal guardian, right?”
I squeezed my small hands into fists and steadied myself.
Sir— Father.
Wherever it is you’ve run to with me, we’re going to be just fine.
Your gardening career at House Krost— and my years of training as a spy— between the two of us, we can make a life anywhere we end up. Can’t we?
“Now that you’ve signed.”
He set down the paper he had been resting his chin on and produced a small bell from somewhere, giving it a gentle shake.
Jingle.
“Time for a proper introduction.”
“…A bell?”
That’s the kind of bell nobles use to summon their staff.
Something was wrong. I had only just begun to notice when—
“You rang, Your Grace.”
Enormous double doors I hadn’t even registered swung open on both sides.
And through them streamed a crowd of people dressed in a dazzling variety of formal attire.
They lined up before us, faces grave, and as one— dropped to a single knee.
“……?”
Am I dreaming? Is this some kind of fever dream?
I looked from face to face in blank stupefaction.
Head housekeeper. Head lady-in-waiting. The head chef. The knight commander. And there was Knox.
These were all Krost’s people.
“Your Grace.”
Then it happened.
The heads which had been bowed lifted— and the moment their eyes found the garden-man—
“…Your Grace, your mask—!”
Eyes went wide. Voices wavered.
“Y-you’ve taken off your mask…”
“What has happened, Your Grace?”
“I took it off. It was difficult to breathe.”
He answered their shaken questions with complete indifference.
I stared up at him, still thoroughly bewildered.
“A mask? What does that mean? Are you having trouble breathing, sir?”
He ignored my question with elegant precision and lifted me up into his arms.
“This child will be growing up under my roof from today forward. See to it that she is treated accordingly.”
“!”
“!”
“!”
At the sudden declaration, every gaze that had been on him swung to me.
“Understood.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Aisha.”
“A pleasure, my lady.”
“…Pardon?”
This is wrong.
This man had run away from House Krost. So there was no reason for Knox, for the knight commanders, for any of them to be standing here.
And yet at his word, they had all bowed their heads.
As if receiving the command of their lord.
“……”
Wait.
The unease I had been feeling, scattered and unformed, was beginning to coalesce into something sharp and cold.
Why was the garden-man, a person who should have been a background extra, so singularly handsome?
Why was his bedchamber decorated like a noble’s?
Why was I still alive?
“Sir.”
“What.”
Hic—
A hiccup escaped me, tightened by nerves. I looked at him.
I’m seeing him differently now.
He felt unfamiliar in a way he hadn’t before.
“…Who are you, sir?”
________________________________________
House Krost was turned upside down.
For the first time in five years, Duke Calypse had faced his people without his mask.
“It really has been a long time since we’ve seen His Grace’s face.”
“Hasn’t it.”
The maid Lessa— still looking as though she were wandering through a dream— listened to the older servants murmur, and added:
“I’ve never seen His Grace’s face before at all. If he looked like that, why in the world did he wear that mask for five years?”
It was the truth.
Duke Calypse, unmasked, was the living embodiment of the northern lands he ruled.
Skin white as a snowfield.
Contrasted against it, dark hair that framed blood-red eyes freed at last from the mask’s shadow— together, they gave him a look that was both dissolute and glacially cold.
Eyes that chilled you on contact.
A face whose every detail only added to the impression of a moving work of art.
“He lost the Duchess and the young lords, didn’t he. He must have been hiding his grief behind that mask all this time.”
Oh, I see…
Even so— isn’t it nice to see that face?
The maids murmured and flushed and gossiped, but the head housekeeper’s expression was notably darker than theirs.
“…What in the world has changed His Grace?”
She was not alone in wondering.
Everyone in the castle was asking the same question.
Especially the head chef, the knight commander, the head housekeeper, and the steward— those who had given their lives to this place and could not simply stand by and watch.
And so they made a decision.
“But isn’t watching someone secretly like this… a little improper?”
“House Krost is about to fall into the hands of some common brat— would you rather just do nothing?”
“I suppose not…”
They would keep a close eye on the child who had changed everything.
From outside— through the cracked window.
The group had gathered at the garden-facing window, pressing in close.
And through it, Duke Calypse and the golden-haired little girl were walking through the snow.
“His Grace is currently in a very emotional state.”
“Exactly. Which means we have no choice but to step in.”
“Setting aside the matter of the mask— that child is a fraud. So why on earth has His Grace registered her as a direct-line dependent?”
“Do you think his mind has gone?”
“Could just be loneliness.”
“All his heirs are missing. And His Grace is going to adopt a child out of loneliness?”
No. Absolutely not.
They shook their heads with unanimous resolve.
Who was Calypse?
The hero who had saved humanity from the Creatures.
Lord of the North. The head of House Krost, who had commanded the family from behind his black mask.
“It’s obvious the child approached His Grace with deliberate intent. We should have seen through her from the moment she claimed to know where the young lady was—!”
Just then—
“Hey, kiddo.”
Calypse’s low voice reached them, and everyone dipped their heads and pressed their ears closer.
Then they tilted just their eyes up to peer through the window.
“Are you going to keep sulking for days?”
Calypse was following behind Aisha as she trudged through the snow, and he asked the question with measured calm.
Trudge trudge trudge. The short legs working through the drifts came to a halt.
“This adoption is a fraud! I didn’t know you were the Duke!”
And then she positively hollered.
How dare she speak to His Grace like—
She called His Grace a fraud—?
Faces pinched in outrage behind the glass—
“You should have read the contract properly before signing it.”
Calypse’s perfectly villainous response left everyone stunned.
Read the contract properly before signing—?!
He’s saying that to a five-year-old child?!
Who is this man I’m looking at right now?!
Their lord had always been gentle with children. This was not him at all.
As if to speak for all of them, the child’s blue eyes went enormous.
“…Is that really something you say to a five-year-old?!”
“Who was it that brought up the idea of a contract in the first place? Who insisted on a lord’s seal before she’d agree to anything?”
“SIR—!”
“Look at me, kiddo.”
She raised her voice— and at that precise moment, Calypse bent at the knee and brought himself to her level.
And what he produced and held out to her was— the finest cut of steak.
Sniff. Sniff.
“……!”
The child’s nostrils quivered as the scent reached her.
“You’ve been refusing to eat for days now in protest, haven’t I heard?”
And then, in a perfectly solemn voice, Calypse said:
“If you live with me like the contract says, you can have steak three times a day.”
“……”
“That orange juice you like? I could buy you an orange grove. But if you refuse…”
“Hmph.”
A perfectly serious ultimatum.
At the words, the child glared with the fullest suspicion— but—
Shuffle. Shuffle.
Those two stubby legs had begun— slowly, reluctantly— to move.
“That’s it.”
“Hmmmph.”
“Right this way. Back inside.”
“Grrr.”
For all the ferocious sounds she was making, Calypse remained as unruffled as befitted the lord of the North.
And as the Duke and the child disappeared back through the castle doors—
“……”
The gathered onlookers found themselves without a single word to offer.
