My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 49

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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 49
Besides, a rural fiefdom like Laberose was hardly indispensable to Valdemar.
Once Agnes reached her room, she sat alone and methodically traced through all that had transpired.
‘I always knew something was wrong.’
There was one fact that had never quite made sense.
It was the simple truth that her father had gambled.
Though he harbored a certain weakness of spirit, the Lord of Laberose had been thoughtful and wise.
Above all, he had cherished his lands deeply.
‘Even Baren spoke of the kindness he’d received from him.’
That was why the villagers had given their hearts so freely to young Agnes.
Whenever the thought arose that her father could never have done such a thing, Agnes had forced it down into the depths of her chest.
People are unknowable.
You simply wanted to deny reality, Agnes.
And yet denial changes nothing—her father, lost to drink and gambling, never did return to what he once was.
She had buried it all this way, though it never quite stayed buried.
But recently.
Even in his stupor, the desperate urgency with which her father had moved kept replaying in her mind.
That mysterious box he’d drawn from the drawer.
“If Father harbored some other secret—”
How much lighter that would be.
She would not have to believe he had simply abandoned her and Edmund.
“I need to find out what happened in Kalburn City back then.”
Now, at last, she had the means to do so.
If she could track down the servants or knights who’d traveled with him, perhaps something would come to light.
Agnes opened the window wide against the weight in her chest, and her mind drifted back to the day her father had left.
It was a week after her mother’s funeral had been observed.
Her father, who had been shut away in his room, had finally ventured outside.
Agnes had been there in the corridor, holding Amy.
‘Father…!’
‘Agnes….’
At that time, Agnes had been fifteen.
A child cradling a newborn.
The infant, who had not yet taken her mother’s milk, merely worked her lips, as if seeking it.
Her eyes had not yet fully opened.
The baby, who sensed her mother’s absence and cried often, grew strangely still whenever Agnes held her.
So when the child wept in distress, it fell to Agnes to soothe her.
Their father gazed at Agnes and the infant in her arms with a hollow, vacant expression.
Unable to speak, he simply stared—then crumbled, and began to wail like an animal.
“Ahhhhhh—”
Hearing that sound, Amy too began to cry.
The newborn’s wail was thin, fragile.
Agnes turned to leave, shifting Amy in her arms.
‘Agnes.’
She turned, and saw her father’s face—ravaged, streaked with tears.
He staggered to his feet and stepped toward her.
Each time they met, Agnes felt how deeply she resembled him.
The pale brown hair, the green eyes.
Even the delicate features of her face.
But Agnes could not weep as he did.
She had wept at the funeral, unable to help herself, but never once since had she shed tears before others.
With roughened hands, her father brushed her cheek once, then took Amy from her arms as the baby continued her mewling cries.
At first his movements were clumsy, but they soon grew deft.
As if he were recalling memories of cradling children long ago.
He must have held Agnes this way once, and Elizabeth and Edmund too, soothing them in the same manner.
Tears flowed endlessly down his face, yet he did not wipe them away, only held Amy close for a long time.
The next morning.
At dawn, he left.
For a year after that, he did not return.
When he came back, drink had already stolen his senses and left him hollow.
Agnes sat quietly by the window, gazing out at the blue sky, until at last she closed her eyes.
Familiar darkness.
Chronic pain rolled in like waves, then receded into the distance.
* * *
The next day.
The debt that had plagued Agnes so relentlessly came to an anticlimactic end.
In the presence of a notary, the total sum was verified, and the gold coins Agnes had brought were inspected.
After confirming with a magical artifact that the coins were genuine, they began examining the year of issue to determine their value.
Some of the coins, apparently brought from the Dragon’s Realm, had been minted a thousand years ago.
Their worth exceeded what she’d anticipated—even having brought exactly what was needed, Agnes still had a surplus remaining.
Of course, the Laberose Mansion held far more gold coins than this deficit would have diminished.
The thought that she could repay the entire debt without being left destitute felt surreal.
At last, everything concluded with her signing the document that proved the debt completely discharged.
After reviewing the contents, she impressed her seal and signed her name beside it as the territory’s representative.
Two years prior, when renegotiating with other creditors, a guardian had been required—but this time, only Agnes’s name appeared on the document.
She had attained legal adulthood.
It was the Countess of Valdemar who had volunteered to serve as her guardian two years ago.
She recalled being strangely moved, seeing her own name written beside the Countess’s.
Agnes gazed quietly at the Countess.
Sunlight filtered through, warming the ground at her feet.
Though bathed in a warmth so gentle it tickled, the Countess maintained an unmoved expression throughout.
At times she seemed almost bored.
In stark contrast to how warmly the Countess had addressed Agnes with various remarks until now, she remained silent.
After confirming that both copies of the document were identical, they divided them between themselves.
Once all formalities concluded, a maid entered with tea.
Finding the Countess still silent, Agnes took the initiative to express her gratitude.
“I am truly grateful for all your kindness. And so this time, I’ve brought you a small token of my appreciation.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I’m certain it will seem modest to you, but I do hope you’ll accept it graciously.”
Agnes sent Lillia to retrieve the gift from her room.
The box was small.
Opening the luxurious velvet-wrapped box, Agnes began to explain the contents.
“This is a gemstone that came with the gold coins Amy sent. I’ve been told it ceased production long ago and cannot presently be appraised.”
At this, a glimmer of interest kindled in the Countess’s eyes.
The brooch-shaped gem resembled a sapphire, yet it bore the color of a sea reef-strewn ocean, something deeper still.
What made it peculiar was that while other gems glittered when caught by light, this one seemed to shine alone, as though it held a star imprisoned within.
“What is it called, do you know?”
“It’s called Lafmarine. Have you heard of it?”
The Countess’s expression transformed with astonishment.
“You mean that gem from the Lapel region?”
“Yes, exactly. It ceased being produced some five hundred years ago, I’m told.”
“Good heavens…….”
Though the Storehouse held numerous gems, Agnes had chosen this one as the only piece worthy of satisfying her.
A longing for what is forgotten and lost is an emotion anyone must harbor.
Agnes’s intuition proved correct—the Countess’s eyes shimmered with wonder.
The Countess held the gem Agnes offered, examining it for a long while before finally speaking.
“Truly…… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, dear.”
“I’m grateful I could repay you in some small way.”
“There’s something else in the box. Dried herbs?”
Only then did the Countess turn her attention to the other item nestled within.
Agnes smiled as she continued her explanation.
“Yes, this is medicinal herb that a Fairy who visited our home taught me about. It’s called Lapatia, and drinking it as tea greatly relieves fatigue.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Since I happened to have some nearby, I dried and brought it for you. I imagine you must grow weary from various duties as well.”
“Thank you. I’ll drink it well.”
The Countess’s manner toward Agnes seemed somehow different now.
Where there had been no apparent interest, the Countess’s face now showed the distinct contours of emotion.
Her gaze upon Agnes seemed to have grown heavier.
“You said you’re leaving right away?”
“Yes. There’s still much that requires my attention in the territory.”
Finding the moment ripe to broach such matters, Agnes made certain not to forget mentioning Roni’s situation.
“While I was away, I heard that a servant named Roni was beaten quite severely. His wounds haven’t fully healed yet, and I wondered if you might look after him?”
Before the gift, she might have dismissed such a trivial matter without a second thought.
This time, the Countess nodded favorably.
“I see. I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you, Countess. Then I’ll finish my preparations and be on my way.”
And with that, everything was truly finished.
Agnes left Valdemar at once.
Unlike before, neither Leonard nor Cedric came to see her off this time, and the Countess didn’t appear either, saying a guest had arrived.
From inside the carriage, Agnes watched the Valdemar Mansion recede into the distance for a long while before drawing the curtain against the sunlight.
The weight of obligation that had settled in her heart had vanished completely.
So now it truly was over.
And yet she felt an inexplicable certainty that she would return to this place someday.
Whether for good or ill.

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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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