The Maid With a Child - Chapter 52

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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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52. Think and act as freely as you wish.
If The Baby were to go somewhere, hear something unseemly, repeat it, and return home doing exactly that, I’d applaud with both hands and both feet, absolutely delighted. The thought made me feel a sudden affection even for Racalte as a child.
But I wondered—was he always this fierce, even back then?
I found myself imagining him: a small frame that barely reached the waist, a round face and round eyes, tiny fists flailing about. No matter how savage he was, he must have been adorable.
“It seems there’s definitely something to inherited physical traits from one’s parents.”
“Ah, so he was different from the other children?”
“Despite being around the same age, he was much taller and bigger. Even then, he’d grown to about the height of an adult’s chest.”
Not adorable at all, then. I erased the imaginary version of him.
Our master had never been cute, not even once. Perhaps he’d entered the world with dignity intact, crying out “I am here!” from the very moment of birth.
“At that rate, knocking down children his own age must have been effortless for him.”
“Actually, that was my first real fight. I just swung the way I’d been taught, and they crumpled one after another.”
“Just as expected of our master.”
Even if every war tale in the world were mere boasting, Racalte’s would surely be the truth. Adlen’s trust was so unwavering that she nodded firmly.
“But… even if he was just a child, the fact that he’s still bedridden now suggests something very serious happened, didn’t it? Was it truly the King who intervened?”
Children’s fights often spiral into adult ones.
In Racalte’s case, as one of the rising nobility, there must have been considerable invisible power struggles among the adults as well.
The fact that he remained bedridden even now meant he was barely alive—almost killed, really. No matter how young he was, wouldn’t that have been too grave an incident to simply overlook?
“At first, the mood was leaning toward formal trial. That would have meant Corporal Punishment severe enough to render him unable to use some part of his body, or losing his status as heir. Or so they said… but the King prostrated himself before the previous King.”
“He did what?”
“It was in the middle of an enormously serious conference. He burst through the door and threw himself on the floor, wailing at the top of his voice—the loudest I’d ever heard him.”
“Oh my…”
He simply threw away all his dignity as Crown Prince and threw a tantrum?
“How could that resolve anything, even for a child? Surely the adults wouldn’t overlook such a serious matter with just tears and complaints?”
“Oh, he didn’t just complain. He poured out everything—how much emotional suffering he’d endured, declared that this was an act of Treason meant to psychologically destroy him, insisted his own actions were merely loyal self-defense against the traitor’s assassination attempt.”
“But wasn’t the King also still a child then?”
“He was. Younger than me, even.”
“So the King was born with such… extraordinary qualities.”
Growing up in the orphanage had been harsh compared to most, but the world near the royal family was if anything even more brutal.
“Born to be king from his first breath.”
Racalte said it with such pride, as if he’d fathered the King himself.
I understood.
Witnessing someone cast aside all their pride for your sake naturally stirred fierce loyalty.
“So… it actually worked?”
It must have worked, or else Racalte wouldn’t be here. Still, I wanted to hear how the story ended. Even predictable tales of revenge are satisfying when heard firsthand.
“It worked.”
“Wow…”
“But he did receive a different punishment.”
“Wait? He was punished anyway?”
“Not an official one, but his father became absolutely furious.”
“Ah.”
So the parents still had their turn.
Racalte’s parents apparently didn’t think he was lucky to receive a beating instead.
“The people I fought were sons of the noble house that had cooperated in establishing the Count title for House of Sigelieon.”
“Oh, so… those people knew and were testing him on purpose?”
“Probably. They might have been trying to create themselves a loyal hound.”
“But it backfired spectacularly. Idiots.”
Adlen snorted derisively.
The master’s father may have suffered for his poor child-rearing, but I didn’t care. I’m simply delighted that our master won.
Racalte chuckled at Adlen’s words.
“In the end, it turned out wonderfully. If he’d obeyed meekly then, House of Sigelieon would have remained forever subordinate, bowing before another family, and would never have earned the King’s trust.”
“That’s right—bold people shape the world! So your father… the previous patriarch… what punishment did he give?”
“He said if I’d grown strong enough to beat a man to death, I might as well go to War and use that strength properly. So starting with the next campaign, he dragged me along.”
“….”
The old scars from his father’s beatings were nothing.
“He’d say if I had the strength to flail about anywhere, I should use it for the country’s sake. By doing that, my father swept away any lingering dissatisfaction over the botched judgment—which was fortunate, though.”
“At least you came home alive.”
“Family traits are not something to dismiss. War turned out to suit me well.”
“That’s… also a mercy.”
Adlen pressed her forehead at the sheer ferocity of House of Sigelieon’s educational philosophy.
As each piece of the master’s past unfolded, I felt pity—but was it presumptuous of me?
But there were far too many moments when she felt it was simply too cruel, even by human standards.
“So go ahead and cause whatever trouble you like.”
“……No, that’s not it. But it did ease my nerves a little.”
Her feelings grew complicated, yet her tension dissolved all at once.
No matter how hard she struck someone, she could never beat them half to death. Which meant she was free to do as she pleased without restraint.
The reassuring weight of having His Majesty and Racalte behind her warmed her heart. At the same time, she caught a glimpse of high society’s ruthless underbelly.
Even among noble children who served the same Crown Prince, such cruelty ran deep. How much more vicious would they be to our little one, the Crown Prince of a foreign power?
Adlen stirred at the sound of voices and gazed down at the innocent child below, fingering the Jeweled Necklace and crying out “Meow!” with guileless delight, her resolve hardening like steel.
If anyone so much as touches our little one, I won’t let them off easy. Strength isn’t everything—a mad woman with her hair down and nothing to lose is terrifying enough.
While Adlen burned with fierce determination, the carriage was already rolling through the gates of the Royal Palace.
* * *
The King’s birthday was one of the grandest events on the calendar.
The guest list was enormous, the banquet hall expansive, and the budget lavish.
The whole purpose was to spare no expense in creating the ultimate display of splendor.
Not to be outdone, the invited guests arrived flaunting every ounce of wealth they could muster.
Clothes, jewelry, bags, shoes, carriages……some weren’t satisfied with merely adorning their bodies and arrived with gems glued to their faces.
“Oh my, oh my, oh……”
“How wondrous……”
Adlen and the Baby gasped in wonder together, mouths agape.
The last place they’d visited to see the King had been his residence, so it was comparatively austere and subdued.
This Banquet Hall, built solely for festivities, gleamed deliberately, dazzlingly.
She’d silently chanted a dozen times over: Don’t hesitate among the nobility, appear aloof, stay composed no matter what you see, keep your calm! Yet the moment the carriage stopped, every word fled her mind.
“Adlen.”
Then Racalte called her name.
“Yes, yes!”
Adlen’s head snapped up.
The moment had truly come.
“Go.”
The carriage door swung open.
Racalte stepped out first and extended his hand toward Adlen.
Adlen stared at the hand he offered her.
This was no rehearsal. This was real.
Adlen met Racalte’s gaze directly as he waited, hand outstretched.
“Yes, Racalte.”
Using the title he’d instructed somehow sparked a surge of confidence within her.
‘Countess.’
It was absurd, utterly impossible—yet for the sake of her little one, she had to steel her pride and hold herself to that station right now.
Adlen lifted her chin and took Racalte’s hand, stepping down from the carriage with purpose.
“Breath……!”
Every molecule of air around her seemed to cling to her with deliberate intention.
Indeed, quite a number of eyes turned toward them as those who recognized the crest carved into the carriage door began to stare.
“Isn’t that the Count of House of Sigelieon? When did he marry?!”
“…….”
Of all the first things to hear, it had to be that.

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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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