For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 40

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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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Chapter 40
Reanuk swallowed a sigh inwardly, his fists clenching behind his back.
Right. I should report this.
What I experienced today lay beyond the bounds of comprehension—it was incomprehensible—but if my master resembles the Lady, then he ought to understand her intentions.
Reanuk’s lips twitched.
“The Lady has… kidnapped a child who ran away from the orphanage.”
He hadn’t lied.
He had merely softened his phrasing.
More precisely, Reanuk himself didn’t know how to articulate what had just occurred.
A runaway child killed and kidnapped…
A runaway child’s death concealed and then kidnapped…
A runaway child made to appear publicly dead—the death staged so thoroughly that not even a trace remained—and then kidnapped…
Every possible way of framing it was a bomb.
Thinking that his master would certainly perceive the Lady’s intentions, Reanuk flinched and trembled.
His master not only had his eyes wide open as though struck by a sudden blow, but stood slack-jawed and vacant.
“…You kidnapped a child?”
Wait…?
It was Reanuk, rather, who found himself bewildered by the reaction.
Could it be that his master’s comprehension also lay beyond the pale?
“…So?”
“Sir?”
“Is that all? What about the kidnapped child?”
“Ah… Duke Sharoz has taken the child into his household.”
“…?”
“…?”
Ian, whose face bore a look of confusion, released a small sigh.
“…In any case, everyone came through unharmed.”
“Yes. Not a hair on his head—”
“Not a hair?”
When he had subdued those who appeared to be mercenaries without understanding the situation, then gone to the Lady, the boy called Mareo had been with her.
That much had been fine.
He understood now that this boy was the reason for the search he’d been commanded to undertake.
He didn’t know what connection existed between the boy and the Lady, but at least the boy didn’t appear to have been dragged along by force.
So until that moment, Reanuk hadn’t given it much thought.
No matter how renowned Saint Berthold Orphanage might be, they couldn’t hold the Lady accountable for wrongdoing.
The boy had been the one to run away, and the Lady had simply discovered and brought him back.
The problem lay with those mercenaries from before.
It was forbidden for anyone but a duke to maintain private soldiers, so the mercenaries were legitimate enough.
The way they seemed organized suggested they’d been hired by a noble house.
It appeared to be tangled up in some matter of sponsorship…
Reanuk had heard of Saint Berthold Orphanage himself, and if the boy were alive, his sponsor would hardly remain idle—what did she intend to do? The moment he thought as much, the Lady set fire to the empty cottage.
Yes.
As though she’d been waiting for just this moment.
The Lady, smiling as the cottage burned brightly behind her…
Not only kidnapping, but arson as well.
The scale was far too grand for simple noble benevolence.
Yet the Lady, who had orchestrated this affair, seemed to know it wouldn’t become a problem.
‘They seemed like terribly wicked people, from what I heard.’
The Lady, who had hastily set the fire and now casually brushed off the robe whose hem had singed slightly, truly was no liar.
But separate from that, he still had to make his report.
“Why did you trail off?”
He did need to report, but…
‘Reanuk, I’m sorry, but could you keep this secret from Ian?’
The Lady, speaking thus, had looked anxious for the first time.
‘…No, I misspoke. Please, just forget what I just said.’
He had intended the same thing.
Separate from whether the Lady appeared anxious, the fact remained that the master he served was Ian Ruscliffe.
But.
‘Since she won’t be here long anyway…’
That remark, murmured in a voice barely audible, lodged strangely in his heart.
As Ian gazed down at him with hollow eyes, Reanuk’s fists clenched at his sides.
“……Ah, you are well.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“……Good. You’ve done well.”
“Yes, then, I shall take my leave.”
The moment Reanuk vanished completely, Ian slumped back against the Study chair.
“Good grief…….”
He murmured softly, sighing.
“……I didn’t ask about gender.”
Surely it wasn’t a boy.
***
“There was nothing in our Contract stipulating that I must account for every single action in detail.”
The moment Vanessa stepped into the Dining Hall that morning, she answered back to Ian, who was immediately scolding her for coming home late the previous evening. “What exactly were you doing?”
“Didn’t you receive a full report from Reanuk?”
“……I want to hear it from your own lips.”
“Why? Are you trying to compare Reanuk’s account with mine and catch me in a lie?”
If I don’t set the tone right from the start, this is how our married life will go forever, she thought.
Should I say something? Or keep quiet?
As Vanessa deliberated, she noticed Ian’s lips pressed thin and released a quiet sigh.
He’s being interrogated, so why does he look hurt? That’s hardly fair.
Ugh. The cream pasta arriving on the table yet again seems to be telling me to speak—so I will.
“I helped a child who ran away from Saint Berthold Orphanage.”
“……What about the Sponsor?”
“Who knows. By now, he’s probably weeping while clutching a blank check that’s turned to confetti.”
A book, perhaps?
Vanessa glanced sidelong at the thick Ancient Text in Ian’s hands, twirled her pasta onto her fork with deliberate care, and took a bite.
“In any case…… I’m relieved you’re safe. So where is this child now?”
“At the Sharoz Estate.”
“……If you wish, you may bring him here.”
At Ian’s words, Vanessa paused mid-twirl, her fork frozen above her plate.
……What’s gotten into him?
She blinked twice, then slowly shook her head.
“I’ll treasure the sentiment. For now, I’ve already asked Father if the boy might receive training to become a proper butler.”
“……So it was a boy?”
“Hmm? Yes.”
“If he fled the orphanage, he must be before his Sponsor’s term, then?”
“That would be right.”
“…….”
“What?”
Vanessa let out a small sigh, still chewing her pasta with a confused expression.
“Ah, don’t misunderstand. I truly only meant to help purely and simply. You know I’m the Duchess of Ruscliffe, after all.”
A faint smile tugged at Ian’s lips.
Though it lasted only a moment.
“……How did you know that?”
Was he always this persistent with his questions?
Vanessa swallowed her pasta and looked directly at Ian.
“Because I told you. But first—is there more pasta?”
“Gayen. Bring the Duchess of Ruscliffe another serving.”
Did he emphasize “the Duchess of Ruscliffe” just then, or was that just her imagination?
His gaze was fixed on the book again.
Vanessa studied Ian carefully for a moment, then turned her attention to Gayen emerging from the kitchen.
“I had a feeling you’d ask, so I made a fresh batch.”
Gayen set a new plate of pasta before Vanessa as though he’d been waiting for exactly this request.
“Thank you, Gayen.”
“Not at all. I’m only grateful you eat with such enjoyment.”
She didn’t usually eat much, but for some reason the food here suited her palate perfectly. It went down effortlessly.
Vanessa twirled the fresh pasta onto her fork while gazing at Ian.
“Oh, there’s one thing we haven’t settled yet.”
“What’s that?”
“Contract period.”
“What?”
Only then did Ian’s gaze lift from the ancient text.
“Why so shocked? Were you planning to stay married forever?”
“I……”
Ian had started to say yes, but hesitated—and Vanessa smiled as if she’d known he would.
“One year. What do you think? That shouldn’t be much of an obstacle to remarrying, should it?”
“Remarrying?”
“Ian, even if we divorced this time next year, we’d only be twenty-five. That’s hardly too late to meet someone new and marry for love.”
“You don’t mean……”
Ian couldn’t bring himself to finish—to ask if that was the real reason she’d gone to the orphanage.
“And don’t say ‘you don’t mean’—don’t you know that kind of hesitation kills? Shouldn’t we both find someone to love and marry before it’s too late?”
Ian swallowed dryly.
“……But couldn’t you and I become that kind of couple?”
At Ian’s words, Vanessa’s eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing.
“You can joke too? Didn’t expect that.”
Ian’s gaze returned once more to the ancient text.
But the emotion he hadn’t quite managed to hide twisted sharply beneath the surface.
Fortunately, Vanessa seemed not to have noticed.
“Absolutely not. Maybe I would, but not you.”
Vanessa spoke with confidence, knowing that Ian had remained single well into his forties—but the way he received her words was different.
It sounded to him as though she’d seized upon his solitude as a convenient excuse, a legitimate reason for him to let go of her.
“……I don’t like making promises.”
It was a feeble protest, but Vanessa answered by rising from her seat first.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the meal. See you later.”
It was a protest that fell on deaf ears.

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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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