My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 15

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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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Episode 15
“What do you mean?”
“Do I need to explain?”
Kesenor turned Silmare’s earlier words back on him, yet still opened his mouth readily enough.
“Given that you find this place so barren, I take it you know almost nothing of humans?”
“There was no real need to know.”
“Quite so. We’ve been separated for far too long.”
It felt like prying into her personal affairs, though he wasn’t sure it was entirely inappropriate to broach the subject.
If she had no knowledge of this culture, he might well say something that would devastate her in ways he couldn’t imagine. That was something Kesenor wanted to avoid.
“Miss Agnes’s house stands on the brink of ruin. In fact, the world likely already considers it fallen.”
“Why? They still have a respectable estate, and there’s no shortage of means.”
“Once humans satisfy their need for sustenance, they pursue something greater—honor, reputation, such things. And once a noble loses his station, it is exceedingly difficult to reclaim it.”
“Is losing that really such a terrible thing?”
“To the nobility, it is. Catastrophically so. For now, a noble household might hire her as a tutor, but once her station is lost, she’d be reduced to menial work at a trading post or guild.”
“That doesn’t mean she’d have to do anything wrong, though.”
“That’s true.”
Even as he spoke, Kesenor found himself wondering why he was explaining something so fundamental—yet it was a question that had always puzzled him as well.
Was nobility truly necessary?
Did kings truly need to exist?
He himself was nobility, but in truth his identity as a mage was far stronger. He preferred to accomplish things through his own magic rather than commanding others with a gesture.
He governed his territory only because it required manpower and military strength to hold back the Magical Beasts; otherwise, he would never have taken on such a troublesome burden.
“In any case, for her, the crucial goal is to restore her House so that her siblings might enjoy an honorable station.”
“Not for herself?”
“She’s already lost value in noble society. She never entered the social circle, she’s reached a marriageable age without doing so, and her work as a tutor will count against her.”
“Why would that be a mark against her?”
“Because it’s unbecoming of nobility. The nobility believe knowledge may be acquired, but it should be used only in governance.”
At that, as if understanding at last, Silmare twisted his lips into a smile.
“So the only one who can help her is you?”
“One might say so.”
“And you intend to help Agnes going forward?”
“For the time being, yes. I need her to think well of me.”
“What is it you want? Do you wish to become the World Tree or something?”
“Whatever it may be, if it’s something that can control the world, I don’t intend to let anyone else take it from me.”
“And if Agnes doesn’t choose you…….”
As abruptly as he’d arrived, Silmare rose from his seat without finishing his sentence.
“Then you’ll abandon her.”
……
Of course he would.
The thought flashed through his mind in that instant, but Kesenor didn’t answer.
He didn’t want to see that smile deepen in those impossibly beautiful lips.
“Or perhaps you might even make her your enemy?”
This time too, Kesenor held his silence.
“Not that I expected otherwise. You’re of Celesta after all, and mages are all the same.”
Leaving only those cryptic words behind, Silmare opened the door and stepped out.
It was only much later that Kesenor realized he’d been clenching his fists.
Loosening his cramped hands, Kesenor recalled what Silmare had said.
“Celesta, mages—he keeps bringing them up. That’s strange.”
Could there be some hidden history tied to his House?
Thinking he ought to investigate, Kesenor gazed out into the darkness beyond the window.
It promised to be a difficult night for sleep.
* * *
The next morning.
There was commotion outside.
True to habit, Agnes woke early and flung open her window to look out.
A large white horse had arrived at the inn’s entrance and was crying out in low, plaintive calls.
The innkeeper and a servant stood nearby in confusion, apparently discussing where the animal had come from.
Then Silmare emerged from the inn.
The horse bolted toward him as if it had been waiting all along, rubbing its face against him eagerly.
Silmare laughed and stroked the horse with affection—it was just like an old friend meeting again after a long absence.
The sight was so warm and lovely that Agnes, watching from her window, found herself smiling without quite meaning to.
Breakfast time.
The three of them gathered around the table.
“What happened?”
Agnes asked the moment she saw Silmare, who answered with a smile and explained the whole affair.
“I dislike traveling by carriage. Since I can’t very well fly, I called out to a friend who might help me get here.”
“Did you summon them with Wind Magic again?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but Silmare nodded.
By now, Agnes had grown so accustomed to such things that she simply laughed.
“Where did it come from?”
“I’m not certain. It said it simply wandered from place to place.”
“How remarkable. I’ve only ever seen horses confined to stables.”
“Because it’s wild. Horses by nature prefer to run free.”
To think that through Wind Magic, one could converse with creatures like horses and become their friend.
Silmare smiled softly at the deepened gleam in Agnes’s eyes.
“Are you envious?”
“Pardon?”
“Are you envious of me, or of the horse?”
Caught red-handed, Agnes felt her cheeks flush crimson.
Fortunately, Silmare pressed no further.
Shortly after, the three of them stepped outside to make their way back to the Laberose estate.
Silmare mounted the white horse with practiced ease, and sitting atop it in the sunlight, he gleamed with such soft radiance that he seemed like a prince from a storybook.
‘Are all fey folk as beautiful as that?’
As Agnes gazed in admiration, Silmare extended his hand toward her.
“Will you ride with me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It would be far less tedious than a carriage, wouldn’t it?”
“But there’s no saddle, and I’ve never ridden a horse before.”
“It’s all right, Agnes. I’ll hold you steady.”
Agnes hesitated, then met the gaze of the white horse—those wide eyes framed by long lashes.
‘Truthfully, I want to.’
There had been horses in Laberose Territory once, but when Agnes was still small, they belonged to her father and his knights.
By the time she was old enough to ride, the family’s fortunes had declined and they’d been forced to sell them all.
She was struck by the memory of that old ache—the sadness of parting with a horse she’d grown fond of as a child, the one she’d fed treats to.
The horse tapped its muzzle gently against Agnes’s cheek, as if whispering that it was all right to be brave.
Agnes laughed aloud at the tickling sensation.
“I’d be happy to carry you.”
“Even though you’ve just met me?”
“I introduced you as my companion.”
“Oh my!”
She felt her face warm momentarily, but since her companion was merely a horse, there was no risk of it spreading gossip to anyone else.
With nervous resolve, Agnes clasped her hands above her skirts.
Could she truly ride without worry?
Surely it would be all right if she rode alongside Silmare, who was so adept at riding without saddle or reins.
But the distance to Laberose estate was considerable.
She’d heard that one’s whole body aches after a first ride.
Yet Silmare seemed to sense that Agnes longed to try.
He extended his hand once more.
“Come now, Agnes. Loyce is waiting.”
A low whinny rumbled through the air.
The horse had made the sound—so that was Loyce’s name.
“Then the marquess will…!”
“He’ll find his way. He’s a mage with Teleportation.”
When Agnes glanced back at Kesenor standing behind her, he gave a nod from the shadows.
His face was expressionless, yet a smile seemed to linger at the corners of his mouth.
Agnes gathered her courage and took Silmare’s hand.
As he lifted her lightly onto the horse, she swayed for a moment, but Silmare’s steadying grip quickly restored her balance.
The perspective was so much higher than she expected.
There was nothing like reins to hold onto.
As fear made her hunch her shoulders, she felt Silmare’s breath brush softly against her ear.
“You’re safe, Agnes.”
Silmare extended his arm to Agnes, who was unsteadily gripping the horse’s neck.
The gesture naturally wrapped around her, yet the contact remained light.
It seemed he would barely brush against her unless she leaned into him deliberately—barely enough to share warmth.
Once she placed her hand on his solid arm, Silmare gently patted Loyce’s back.
The horse began to move.
“Oh!”
As her body swayed, Silmare caught her lightly.
Finding her balance proved difficult only at first.
Silmare braced her firmly from behind, and he swayed with gentle fluidity as the horse moved beneath them.
Once Agnes matched her breathing to his, she could settle into a more stable position.
At last the streets around them came into view. People stared at them with astonished eyes.
Of course, most were looking at Silmare rather than Agnes.
For that, she was grateful.
No one would remember a plain thing like Agnes.
However ridiculous she might appear, every gaze would be drawn to Silmare—so thoroughly that no one would even notice who rode beside him.
That realization gave her courage.
Wind brushed her cheeks, and the city’s complex fragrances wafted over her from all sides.
The moment they passed through the city gates, Agnes burst into laughter.
“Now we can ride freely, can we not, Agnes?”
“Yes, absolutely!”

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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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