Deadline Is Raining in the Status Window - Chapter 237

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#Logically speaking, what mother would approve of her daughter marrying a widower with a child?

While Seian was finishing his second bottle, there was surprisingly someone ahead of him—already on their fifth.
“*Gack.*”
Her name was Eleanor Laef. At forty-six years old, with nineteen years of motherhood under her belt, she was the adoptive mother and true maternal figure of Evan Laef—though she’d raised Mitchell Neftis from infancy.
From the moment she’d taken charge of young Mitchell, Eleanor had harbored a modest wish: that the girl would grow strong and healthy, become the Duke Neftis, marry some virtuous younger man she’d bring home, and build a harmonious family. Nothing could be better, nothing more to desire.
Of course, that bachelor had to be unmarried, with Mitchell as his first love. And he needed to be at least 180 centimeters tall—that was the bare minimum for a man. As the future mistress of House Neftis, he had to possess at least a count’s title or hold a socially prestigious profession.
Since the young lady was always getting injured, sued, or reported, Eleanor thought a therapist or lawyer would be ideal. In any case, Mother Eleanor had meticulously planned out the future son-in-law’s height, weight, and specific occupation, simply waiting for the day Mitchell would bring a man home.
But whether the girl lacked romantic fortune or simply had poor taste in men, she’d clung to that Crown Prince who looked like a mistress from a wealthy household, only to be struck from the family registry and forced to leave the Capital.
That much Eleanor could accept. Mitchell wasn’t the type to be crushed by such circumstances, and Duke Neftis would be most devastated by losing his eldest daughter who was to become a mage—so by any means necessary, he’d orchestrate a glorious return for her.
The problem was that Evan Mitchell possessed far too much capability. She’d gone to the Countryside, became Village Chief, then Market Administrator, and now held the position of Lord of Territory. No matter how much Ilam had developed, it couldn’t compare to the Capital, Crownpolis.
Surely she wouldn’t rot away her entire life in this godforsaken rural backwater. She couldn’t. Eleanor’s young lady was beautiful, spirited, wise—she possessed all the finest qualities. She should hold a high title, flourish in the Capital, and wield influence with pride.
If only things had gone that way, I thought she’d finally forget that damned lizard!
“*Blegh! Ptooey!*”
The mere thought of that widower lizard made Eleanor’s stomach turn—she spat onto the Banquet Hall floor. She was already sick over the child he had, but the man was five hundred years old. Five hundred!
People said even a four-year age gap created a generational divide, so five hundred years meant the generational gap was practically her young lady’s ancestor, didn’t it? Eleanor was grateful that she’d let the girl stay at the Serpent King’s Tower when she’d lost her home and lacked the means to support her family. But. That didn’t mean just because he had a decent house, he could grab hold of her bright-future young lady’s ankle and marry her! It made no sense!
“Bring more wine!”
“Mother-in-law, today is your daughter’s wedding day. Perhaps we should avoid further drinking…”
“You’re a problem too, you are! Useless wretch!”
“*Ahhhhh!*”
In her drunken state, Eleanor grabbed Rael’s cheeks and pulled them hard. Fortunately, thanks to the young lady having made wonderful friends at the Academy, she’d been able to reclaim the name Mitchell Neftis. Eleanor had thought that would mean saying goodbye to this dreary Ilam village once and for all. But astonishingly, the girl had chosen to hand the title of Duke Neftis to Rael and return to Ilam herself.
And she was doing it with a five-hundred-year-old lizard in one hand and what looked like a weasel of a mistress in the other.
“Don’t make me laugh. Don’t make me laugh, young lady. Do you think I’m just going to sit back?”
Mitchell Neftis earned the title “Neftis’s Mad Dog” precisely because her temperament was absolutely vile. This was an immutable fact, an eternal truth.
Then, what kind of temperament did Eleanor Laef, the mother who’d raised Neftis’s Mad Dog, possess?
“My dear Eleanor! I have arrived!”
“What took you so long to show that pretty face of yours!”
The answer was: “Only a mad dog can raise a mad dog’s pup.”
Eleanor Laef hurled a wine bottle at Bruno—whether it was praise or something else entirely was unclear. It flew with perfect accuracy toward Duke Zibenstein’s face, forcing the man to dodge it by a hair’s breadth, even resorting to magic. He was practically breaking into a cold sweat.
“*Aw♡ The protagonist always makes their entrance last, don’t they?*”
Younger men truly were the best. Look at how adorably he flutters about. But the young lady—she couldn’t even enjoy that kind of pleasure, and instead was planning to set up house with some five-hundred-year-old mad chef!
“The young lady is terrible!”
“That’s right! Our adopted daughter is the worst!”
While the two of them united in cursing their daughter, Evan Laef found herself bewildered by this unexpected turn of events. First of all, Bruno clearly hadn’t been sent an invitation—so why had he crawled all the way here? And why was Eleanor clinging to him, striking a “poor young lady who knows nothing of love” pose?
“If the young lady gets to marry as she pleases, then I’ll marry as I please too!”
“Wait. Calm down, Mother. You’ve had far too much to drink.”
“I haven’t had a drop! Women from Ilam don’t count it as drinking until they’ve had ten bottles!”
Did Ilam have such a tradition? Evan hurried to ask Gerth, and the man, after quietly recalling the female executives of the Tower, reached his conclusion.
“Certainly. They start with a minimum of ten bottles.”
Evan inwardly marveled, but that wasn’t the pressing concern right now. At this rate, my mother would become the Duchess of Zibenstein. If that happened, it wouldn’t just be Mother’s status that changed—responsibility could fall upon Evan Mitchell as well.
“Mother! Please! Not him!”
“Have you ever heard me say I won’t marry a five-hundred-year-old bachelor?!”
“Never!”
“Then don’t try to stop me! I’m going to elevate my status with this opportunity!”
“You don’t even care about status elevation!”
“I absolutely do!”
Evan Mitchell becoming a duchess, or a crown princess, or a grand duchess—such elevations of status held tremendous appeal. And during their date just now, Duke Zibenstein had strongly insisted that if Eleanor and Bruno Siebenstein married, the next Duke of Zibenstein would be confirmed as Evan Mitchell.
Honestly, Zibenstein over House Neftis! House Neftis was a setting sun now, while Zibenstein had been the true power of the Empire for five hundred years. As Eleanor envisioned herself as a Grand Duchess of Zibenstein, the true power of the Empire, a satisfaction as if grasping the world in her hands welled up within her.
If her daughter rose to the rank of grand duchess, she thought she could even tolerate supporting a lizard and a weasel.
“You’re not meant to end your days in some backwater village of Ilam! You must become a duchess, a grand duchess, and even a queen!”
With the resolve to dedicate herself entirely to her daughter’s advancement, Mother accepted the marriage contract with Bruno, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing herself into his embrace. The man’s back nearly gave out catching Eleanor, but after his discharge and diligent rehabilitation, he barely managed to support her.
“Mother! I—”
I’m already the King of Ten Thousand Demons!
Evan, unable to voice this truth amid the throng of humans, could only bite her lip in frustration.
“Wahaha! My dear daughter! Your mother is coming with me! I’ll be waiting at the Zibenstein Townhouse!”
With those words, Duke Zibenstein vanished in the blink of an eye—disappeared as if by magic, and since he’d actually used magic, Evan felt unmoored from reality. What had just happened? At what should have been a joyous wedding, what was this chaos?
“Forgive me, Evan. It seems, in the end, I never won your mother’s approval.”
Gerth, who had remained unfazed even when Seian intruded, grew despondent at the mere fact of failing to gain the Duchess’s recognition. His shoulders sagged and his expression darkened considerably, but Evan found herself at a loss for words of comfort.
“No. It’s my fault. The real problem is that I appeared to need the help of someone like Bruno.”
I had long known Mother wasn’t the sort to seek simple happiness. Had she been, she wouldn’t have fled with Mitchell in the first place. Back then, Eleanor had abandoned a path of comfortable living—a small house in the Capital and a pension that would have sustained her for life as repayment for raising Mitchell—and chosen to go to Ilam instead. It was because she needed to witness with her own eyes Mitchell reclaiming her position and living a life of grandeur. That’s what a mother is.
“So… do we have to go to their mother’s wedding next?”
When Reina broke the silence with tactless words, Eugene hastily covered the woman’s mouth. But that dreadful sound had already reached Evan’s ears.
“Mother will not marry Bruno.”
Evan, who had nurtured a harpoon with blood using the short sword gifted by Kanna, entered combat stance. She would retrieve her mother even if it meant killing Bruno. As the guests heard Evan’s murmur, they sensed a storm of blood would come and began leaving the banquet hall one by one.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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