My Youngest Keeps Bringing Home Male Leads - Chapter 81

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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 81
“Pardon?”
“Well, I felt a bit… overshadowed, I suppose. Ignitan’s over there flaunting that crude, muscular frame of his, and Kesenor talks as if he can accomplish anything through magic because he’s so clever. And Ruppert—he may not be one of us, but he’s killed a Dragon, hasn’t he? ……What manner of people has gathered in this place?”
It was rather what Agnes wanted to say herself.
Ruppert and Kesenor aside, Lapitor’s dexterity already far exceeded anything she could have imagined.
“Are all dark elves like you, Lapitor?”
At that, Lapitor flashed a grin.
“Hardly. It’s only possible because I’m remarkably talented.”
A chill ran down her spine anew.
She felt afresh just how extraordinary the people staying in her home truly were.
“However can I ever repay you?”
She asked with a grateful smile, and Lapitor’s eyes deepened somehow.
He hesitated as if about to broach something difficult, then spoke slowly.
“You see, Agnes, we often tie up our hair and wrap a cloth around it because we have much work to do. I found it troublesome, so I cut mine short instead…….”
Unable to discern any thread of meaning, she simply widened her eyes in silence, and Lapitor stepped closer, positioning himself before her.
“If it’s acceptable, we have a way of expressing regard among our kind—would you permit it……?”
What on earth was he about to do, to hesitate so much?
Whether she hesitated without meaning to or not, Lapitor waved his hand quickly and explained himself.
“Just, on the ends of the hair…….”
“A kiss?”
She barely understood him, his words tumbling out in such a murmur.
It would be rather like kissing the back of one’s hand, in human custom.
It was far less than she had feared, and she felt oddly tender toward Lapitor for offering so modest a gesture in return.
His face had flushed deeply red, as though he had just proposed something terribly difficult.
Seeing him so clumsy and boyish, mischief stirred in her, and Agnes felt a slight frown cross her face.
“Is it something special for dark elves? Like a confession, perhaps……?”
“No, no! I would never presume to do such a thing!”
Lapitor had let out the protest far louder than intended, and now he covered his mouth with both hands, his gaze averted.
“It’s something close friends do with each other?”
“Yes, that’s right…….”
Of course, it was something done only between man and woman.
But that he kept utterly secret.
Lapitor’s fate had been sealed since birth—destined to receive a companion, a soulmate—so the fact that he had never done this with any woman before was a secret as well.
That you were the first, even in so light a touch, was also his secret.
The sorcerer spoke of betrothal without hesitation and approached her freely, while he was embarrassed that his heart felt ready to burst even at this small distance.
Lapitor swallowed, stealing a glance at her as she sat quietly.
Her wide, round eyes were beautiful.
Her skin, different from that of the dark elves, had felt strange at first, but it suited her clear, green-tinted eyes well.
Her frame was small and seemed fragile, but having spent time with her, he had come to feel just how resolute her character truly was.
‘If I help you, will we grow closer?’
Finally, Agnes tilted her head and smiled brightly.
“It’s alright. It’s not strange at all.”
The moment her permission fell.
Lapitor reached toward Agnes with an urgent motion.
Agnes looked up at him silently.
His golden eyes, which had been trembling uncertainly until a moment before, now held a weighty light.
His bronze-hued hand swept past her line of sight and gently grasped the ends of her hair as it tumbled down.
With his fingers still threading through her locks, Lapitor slowly lowered his head.
As their faces drew near, his breath brushed her cheek.
Agnes forgot, without meaning to, to breathe.
Time seemed to still, flowing slow as honey.
His soft breath reached her ear, and for a moment she thought his hand had touched her shoulder.
But he had already drawn away from her.
Lapitor’s cheeks were flushed crimson.
“We are all rather independent by nature, so we often find ourselves alone in our own space. But when there is someone we…… care for, and they need help, we do everything in our power.”
As she pondered what word he had stumbled over, Lapitor smiled that familiar, crooked smile.
“That’s why I’m happy. Because I can help you. It means I’m someone you truly need.”
He gave her no time to respond.
After a brief, awkward cough, he opened the door and fled.
Only after the door had closed did Agnes understand what word he had whispered, and she covered her mouth with both hands.
It was fortunate he’d hurried out.
Otherwise, he would have seen Agnes with her ears burning crimson.
‘What am I to do?’
After Kesenor came Silmare, and then Lapitor—who had seemed to keep a step’s distance—all the same.
Perhaps not with profound meaning, but all of them harbored affection for her, and each harbored some measure of romantic longing.
‘How could I not notice…….’
This was the one thing she could not seek counsel for, the one thing she could not ask for help with.
She certainly couldn’t confide in the four men, and asking Martha would do no good—there was no way to explain the unique existence called the World Tree.
‘Ruppert especially is out of the question.’
He’d likely make a scene seizing Lapitor by the collar in her father’s stead, the one addicted to Romanil.
After burying her face in her hands and groaning for a long while, Agnes eventually rose and organized into a drawer the things Lapitor had left behind.
All of them would prove useful as evidence material during the trial.
Recalling Lapitor’s weary face, Agnes stood gazing into the open drawer for some time without closing it.
The next day, documents arrived from the court with unprecedented speed.
Just a week later came notice that a trial would be held in Calburn’s courthouse to verify the documents.
It was work that should have taken a full month—perhaps they judged the outcome obvious regardless.
‘Valdemar will likely send a proxy.’
Kesenor, who had looked into the judge beforehand, chuckled softly as he spoke.
“A man connected to the crown prince’s faction. Likely someone close to the Count of Valdemar.”
“He might refuse to acknowledge the evidence even if you present it.”
“But I shall stand behind you. The Duchess Celesta will serve as witness to the trial—have no fear.”
Two days later, a peculiar package arrived.
There was no sender’s name written on it.
When she opened it, a familiar book lay inside.
‘The History of the Empire…….’
Flipping through it, she found the pages densely covered with Agnes’s own handwriting.
It was the one she’d used when teaching the children at Valdemar’s Mansion.
‘Why would anyone send this?’
As Agnes examined the book, she soon discovered a single sheet of paper between the pages.
“This is…….”
Below a date from a year prior was the seal of the Countess of Valdemar.
The moment she recognized this, Agnes sprang from her seat and compared it with the promissory note she’d received not long ago.
“It’s different…….”
The promissory note, supposedly written two years ago, bore a faint flaw visible to the naked eye, while the document dated a year prior bore none.
If a flaw existed two years ago, it should naturally have remained on documents written a year later.
In other words, it was clear, irrefutable evidence that the promissory note might have been forged.
“But who on earth sent this?”
The moment she thought this, the face that came to mind was Leonard’s.
‘Could it be…….’
Was it possible he learned that Agnes had brought suit against Valdemar and sent this after seeking it out to help her?
Though she examined the book and documents alternately, she found nothing else remarkable.
Agnes carefully preserved the torn document in her drawer.
* * *
At last, the day of the trial arrived.
Agnes rode in the carriage with Kesenor and Ruppert.
By now July had arrived, and the sun beat down fiercely.
Agnes’s attire had grown light as well—a sleeveless dress and lace gloves.
Yet the southern sun was so intense that heat rose from the parched earth beneath them.
Noticing Agnes’s cheeks flushed warm, Kesenor cast a spell within the carriage, and soon it grew pleasantly cool.
Still, her mouth kept running dry.
Kesenor, catching sight of her, let out a soft laugh.
“Your dress has wrinkled again.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You do mistreat your clothes whenever you grow anxious.”
“Oh…….”
Looking down, the dress was indeed creased.
Unable to recall when it had started, she found herself staring at Ruppert without thought, and he too smiled gently back at her.
As though he’d known all along.
Thoroughly embarrassed, Agnes feigned indifference and cast her gaze toward the blue meadows and forests spreading beyond the carriage window.
Somehow, the tension in her heart had grown lighter.

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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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