Chapter 01
“This child, you should raise her.”
At those words, Seymour Hayworth Somerset, the head of the Somerset ducal family, lifted his eyes from the documents.
Beyond his angular glasses, the man’s green eyes — the color of deep forest — were expressing clear displeasure and doubt.
It was exactly the same look he had when, about a month ago, he received the absurd demand to distribute high-end cigars at half price.
Back then, Seymour had immediately flipped the table and hurled the ashtray, smashing it to pieces.
Of course, he very much wanted to do the same this time.
Unfortunately, however, this was not a situation or place where he could afford to do so.
So instead of slamming the table edge, he wearily rolled his tired eyes and looked at the people seated before him.
An old woman with a stern, unyielding appearance that clearly showed she was not easy to deal with.
And beside her, a little girl no bigger than a chestnut.
‘What on earth is this bizarre combination?’
If it had been anyone else, he would have kicked them out before they even sat down.
That is — if the old woman sitting across from him were not his mother-in-law, who was practically a second mother to him.
Seymour rubbed the space between his brows once and let out a sigh.
“…I don’t quite understand what you mean, Mother-in-law.”
“I didn’t think I used difficult words. I’m telling you to bring this child into the Somerset name.”
“If Somerset seemed so lonely to you, wouldn’t it have been better to just bring a cat?”
At the open sarcasm, Mrs. Hayworth’s brows furrowed.
“Your manner of speaking gets rougher every time I see you. Or am I just ridiculous in your eyes?”
“Of course not. It’s just that the world is so harsh these days.”
“Your mother-in-law calls you over, and you sit there looking at documents.”
“Please understand. There’s an important contract next week.”
“You’re so busy — do you even have time to visit Rose’s grave?”
At that moment, the faint smile disappeared completely from Seymour’s lips.
“Why are you bringing up my wife?”
“Can’t I even mention my own daughter? It’s already been over a year since she passed.”
“I’m surprised it’s only been a year. Every single day feels like hell — I thought eternity had already passed.”
Muttering this, Seymour frowned deeply and closed his eyes.
Even now, he could clearly picture it.
The day he lost — in a single instant — the wife he loved like his own life, his only older brother, and everyone he could call family.
‘Sir! You need to come quickly! There was a carriage accident on the mountainside… and the deceased are…!’
The carriage that crashed had been carrying Seymour’s brother Graham and his wife… along with Seymour’s own wife.
All of them died instantly on the spot.
What remained for Seymour was the one son left behind by Graham and his wife, and the heavy title of Duke of Somerset that should have originally gone to his brother.
And so Seymour became the Duke of Somerset.
Originally, the son left by his brother and sister-in-law — Dante — should have inherited the title, but at the time Dante had been only five years old.
That was already a year ago. Yet the memories that still refused to fade easily continued to make him frown.
Looking at such a son-in-law, worry settled over Mrs. Hayworth’s face as well.
“How long are you going to keep living like this?”
“…What exactly have I done now for you to say that?”
“Do you think I don’t know? I’ve already heard everything. The days you actually sleep in a bed don’t even reach once a month on one hand, you live with alcohol and tobacco every day, and the business is so overwhelming it’s like a dog with its tail on fire, isn’t it?”
“That’s simply my way.”
“Your way of dying young, you mean.”
“You know it yourself, Mother-in-law. I have a duty to take care of Somerset. So that—”
“So that you can pass the title to your nephew without a shred of shame. Because the moment you show even the slightest weakness, your dear blood relatives will be eagerly eyeing your ducal seat! How many times do you think I’ve heard that excuse already?”
“…”
He was cut off before he could even begin making excuses. Apparently, an excuse used too many times loses its effect.
Seymour clicked his tongue once and spoke.
“But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Dante is not my son. The moment I try to pass the title to my nephew, they will surely bite at me over the matter of bloodline.”
Seymour’s bloodline belonged to the Graham family.
But his current family name was Hayworth. It had changed when he entered the Hayworth family as a live-in son-in-law.
The problem was that such a man had ended up taking the Somerset ducal title that originally belonged to the Graham family.
Because of this, he had become completely from a different family than the nephew to whom he must one day pass the title — and that was more than enough to create problems.
“If we want to prevent being attacked over family lineage issues in advance, shouldn’t we prepare the groundwork beforehand?”
And fortunately, this also served as a very good excuse for Seymour’s workaholism.
Even Mrs. Hayworth, who used to scold him furiously to take care of his health, would usually step back when told it was all for the nephew and not for himself.
But for some reason, today, even after hearing those words, Mrs. Hayworth’s eyes were shining.
“You spoke very well. You’re right. We need to prepare the groundwork. It would be disastrous if we get attacked over bloodline issues.”
“Exactly.”
“Then we just need to solve the bloodline problem, don’t we!”
Seymour gave a cold, almost mocking smile.
“Of course I would if I could. But I cannot adopt Dante into the Hayworth family. Dante is the last direct descendant of Graham—”
“Who said anything about adopting your nephew?”
Mrs. Hayworth raised one eyebrow with a stern expression.
“Just have him get married!”
“…Pardon?”
Seymour’s expression changed to one of utter disbelief.
“You will sponsor this child. When she grows up, have her marry your nephew and then pass on the title. Simple.”
That way, no one would be able to question the bloodline.
It would also look far smoother and more natural than suddenly passing the title directly to the nephew.
“Above all, it would mean you finally have a family you are responsible for — nothing could be better.”
“That’s absurd, Mother-in-law. What kind of—”
“Or else!”
Thump! Mrs. Hayworth’s cane fiercely struck the floor.
“Or else are you telling me to just watch you wither away like this until I collapse from heartache? Hm? Do I have to die before you’ll stop this madness?”
“No… Mother-in-law. How can you say such things? You must live a long life.”
“Yes, exactly!”
As if making a firm vow, Mrs. Hayworth pressed down hard with each word and pointed to the child beside her.
“Raise the child. Just until you pass on the title! After that, do whatever you want.”
“…”
“She’s a bright child. She’ll probably even be able to embrace that rotten personality of yours.”
As if to prove Mrs. Hayworth’s words, the girl sitting beside her nodded with clear, bright eyes.
Each time her head moved up and down, her neatly tied twin tails bounced lightly.
Her actions and expression showed considerable maturity and firmness, but to the current Seymour, everything simply felt absurd.
“…So you’re telling me to raise a child… just for that reason right now?”
“Why? Isn’t it an excellent plan? Didn’t you yourself say that if it could solve the bloodline issue, you would of course do it?”
“…Well, that is true, but — where did you even find this child in the first place?”
As Seymour, driven into a corner, tried to change the subject, the child who had been silent the entire time finally opened her mouth.
“I came from Townsend Orphanage. My name is Rowena Whitfield, and I’m ten years old. I told Mrs. Hayworth that I wanted to become Duke Somerset’s family.”
“…What?”
Seymour sharply asked what she meant.
But Rowena only smiled brightly. Thanks to that, he felt his common sense shutting down.
“Mother-in-law, you brought this child to me just because of that one sentence?”
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t have?”
“Aren’t there too many reasons?! She’s obviously after the family fortune!”
“I don’t need to receive anything.”
And once again, Rowena’s clear voice cut in.
“I’m not interested in Hayworth, Graham, or Somerset.”
“…Do you even understand what you’re saying right now?”
“Of course. If you want, I can even sign a contract! Stating that I will never exercise any rights over the family or the title.”
Seymour’s eyes narrowed.
“Then why exactly did you say you wanted to become my family?”
“Because I wanted to have a family. As you know, I don’t have one.”
Because I’m an orphan.
After saying that, Rowena hopped down from her seat and trotted over to Seymour.
Then, with the expression of someone making a very grand proposal, she said:
“If Your Grace accepts me, when you come home I’ll run to the front door to greet you.”
“What is this—”
“We can eat breakfast together too! If you want, I can even put heart-shaped sauce on Your Grace’s fried eggs.”
I’m really good at making them.
Rowena nodded solemnly, as if sharing a huge secret.
“And — this is something I’m saying with real determination.”
“What now?”
“I’ll give you a goodnight kiss before bed too.”
I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.
At the added remark, Seymour looked at the child with eyes that said he was utterly dumbfounded.
They say it’s hard to spit on a smiling face, but Seymour was more than capable of doing so.
Yet even under that murderous gaze that made countless nobles lower their tails, the child simply kept smiling.
Proof that any further conversation was unnecessary.
Rowena hopped up to sit right beside Seymour, gave a bright smile, and clapped her hands once.
“Your Grace, we can become a really good family.”
