Rido’s whole body squirmed, demanding to be let down from his mother’s embrace. Felicia obliged and only then saw his cute little face had reverted back to his standard “professional” expression: the blank, disinterested look. But this “professionalism” didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were staring at the three shiny bronze children hard enough to bore holes into them.

Felicia had a funny thought: Could her little genius actually be jealous?

This tickled her but she also knew it wouldn’t be good if his first impression of them was bad.

“Heir Childe lacks in many areas,” Felicia immediately began explaining, “so I have found people in Fresa March to compensate. The cripple will teach you swordsmanship so that you will no longer be weak and can properly defend the family name. The skinny boy with the two children will be your personal servant. He is lacking like you and will need training… quite a lot, I imagine. As for the two commoner children, they are your companions.”

Querido’s laser glare disappeared at her explanation and turned to one of cool curiosity.

“Companions? Why companions?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You were an absolute failure when you were around children of the same age and status a year ago. I can’t have such an embarrassing situation happen twice. With these two commoner children for practice, you should at least get used to being around others your own age.” Felicia really wanted to hit her host for the downright cruel phrasing. “You are also the Heir and it’s an offense to my honor that you only have a Nanny to help you. But the mansion servants are too good for you, so this commoner boy will have to do. I have been generous by getting you commoners who are at least unique looking, don’t forget that.”

Querido thought for several seconds about what his mother meant and then nodded slowly, “Thank you Mother.”

She gave an internal sigh of relief. Those words had been particularly ruthless and poked at his sore spots. If he’d gotten upset over it, she wouldn’t have blamed him. He really was her genius angel boy that was too good for the world!

The genius-angel-boy’s eyes fell on Claro, “This… man… can he really teach me to use a sword?”

Unlike his mother, Rido had enough tact not to directly insult the person who might one day be his teacher.

Felicia pat her son on the shoulder reassuringly, “A cripple is more than enough for you, rest assured. Anyway, he has a knight’s training, which may prove useful.”

This caught the little boy’s interest. “Really? He used to be a knight?”

“He says he still is a knight.” She shrugged. “We shall see if his claim has any substance or if he’s just a crippled as he looks.”

Claro narrowed his eyes at the Marchioness. Was she humiliating him publicly or officially challenging him to be better than his injury? He couldn’t tell...

Felicia turned to the senior staff, clapped once, and explained, “These people are now under my employment but will be serving the Heir Child directly. Treat them as befits a servant of Fresa Mansion.”

“Yes, Marchioness!” They responded instantly. They’d heard every word she’d spoken and understood the position of the new comers.

They were, however, a little puzzled. A martial arts teacher, a servant, and companions were all normal things for noble children. Their Marchioness getting them was actually a responsible and loving act, very in line with how a mother ought to behave. But the quality of the people in question was so abominable they wondered if she hadn’t reverted back and found a new way to torture her son...

“Come forward.” She motioned the new additions forward. Once they were lined up in front of her and Rido, she commanded, “Introduce yourselves.”

Claro hobbled down on his one knee, making his opposite hand into a fist and placing it on the ground. He was most likely trying to do a knight’s kneel but lacking a leg couldn’t perform it properly.

“Heir Querido Fresa, I am Claro Curtidor, 3rd Class Knight. Previously I served in the Order of the Black Fox of Fresa March. In the name of God and these witnesses, I pledge my services and knowledge to you. As my teacher trained me, I will earnestly train you. If I fail, may God curse my soul to Hell.”

Querido kept his face passive, put his small hand on the older man’s bowed head, and smoothly replied, “Your act of service has been heard and accepted. May I, Heir of the March, be worthy of your oath, Knight Claro Curtidor. So help me God.”

Claro blinked, surprised that such a little boy knew the proper response to a knight’s pledge. He had done it to make clear his allegiance to the surrounding adults. Naturally he didn’t expect a 6 year old boy to really understand the gravity of the oath. If the Heir was smart enough to really understand at such a young age…

His eyes teared up.

Perhaps there was real hope for the future of Fresa March.

Valor had been watching Claro closely. When it seemed to him their conversation had finished, he got on his knees, placing his fist on the ground in the exact same manner as the red-headed man, not realizing Claro’s positioning had been to compensate for his disability.

He spoke very seriously, but with a thick accent, and repeated the knight's oath: “Heir Que..rido Fre..sa, I am Valor. In the na...me of God and these wit...ness..es, I ple..dge my ser..vices and know...ledge to you. If I fail, may God cu...rse my so..ul to He..ll.”

Claro frowned at the boy named Valor in disapproval. It was extremely inappropriate for someone who wasn’t a knight to imitate the knight’s pledge. Even if he understood this boy was only doing so out of ignorance, Claro would definitely make sure he didn’t make this mistake a second time.

Querido was also aware of the mistake Valor had made and momentarily didn’t know how to respond. He looked towards his mother who shrugged, acting as though it wasn’t any of her business.

Because he hadn’t gotten an instant response like the knight, Valor looked up anxiously and added, “Promise. Good work… promise, good work. Yes?”

Felicia added, “Heir Childe, were you not taught that a commoner rises and falls based on the favor of their lord? Whatever else you may be, you are the Fresa Heir and he is your personal servant. His life, his future, is in your hands. Do with him as you like.”

The little Heir tilted his head and then nodded. He turned back to Valor. “You are my servant now.”

Valor sighed in relief.

“What are you two called?” Rido pointed at the two silent children who were standing hand in hand behind Valor.

The children glanced at each other, not understanding what was asked of them.

Valor hastily intervened, pointing at the older boy, “Fijo” and then the younger girl, “Tierno”.

Querido frowned, “Can they not understand what I’m saying?”

Valor bit his lip and shook his head, admitting, “No words here speak.”

The little Heir turned to stare at his Marchioness Mother and uttered an incredulous, “Mother.”

Felicia immediately turned away. Actually, she hadn’t spoken to the two children at all and had no idea they couldn’t speak the language. She’d assumed because Valor could speak, the other two could as well and had just been shy…

She knew she’d made a mistake but it was too late to do anything about it.

“Whether they understand or don’t, it’s all the same with commoners.” She gave a furious scowl in her embarrassment, “Anyway... they’re all yours now! If you can’t make them how you like, that’s just a reflection of your own failures!”

The “mask” Querido had been wearing finally dropped. His Mama’s behavior was too exasperating and he couldn’t help showing it on his face.

She got him a one-legged knight, a servant boy that had no training and barely spoke coherently, and two companions who he couldn’t even talk to! Was she purposefully trying to make his life difficult?!

Felicia saw the accusation in his eyes and felt guilty for her negligence.

She turned to the newly promoted Butler and said, “Butler Intento, you will be in charge of Valor’s valet training. Between lunch and dinner, he must serve at the Heir Childe’s side, regardless of his skill, but otherwise he will be in your care. You have a year, after which the Heir Childe will give Valor an evaluation. If Valor passes, then his valet training is complete. If not, then the training continues.” She cocked her brow, “It would be good for you if he passes. Do you understand?”

Butler Intento snapped his heels together and gave a strict bow at the waist, “I will naturally make him into a magnificent valet, Marchioness!!! The pride of Fresa Mansion!!!!!! You will not be disappointed!!!!!”

Felicia's lips twitched. She still wasn’t used to how enthusiastic this new butler was compared to the last one…

“You will also make sure Lord Curtidor is given proper accommodations, clothing, and food according to his rank.”

“Do not worry, I hear and obey!!!!!!”

Her eyes squinted slightly at his over exuberance but decided to ignore it. She’d been the one to promote him, after all, she only had herself to blame…

She turned to Nanny Flor.

“You will be in charge of the two children. As companions of Heir Childe, they must be properly fed and clothed. As for the rest….” She gave a helpless wave of her hand. “Do your best.”

Nanny Flor bobbed her head, her honest face showing she was very curious and excited at her new charges. She walked over and bent down at the knees, smiling gently at them. They, in turn, gave a hesitant smile in return.

Querido, however, furrowed his brow at this. Even if his Mama had said they were “his companions”, he felt they were hindrances instead.

He definitely had to make sure they learned to speak well and understand the rules of the mansion quickly. Otherwise they might take up all the time his Nanny would usually spend with him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

———

“Marchioness Fresa, I’ve heard you employed several new people at the Mansion.”

The weasily Viscount Barrera was currently in Felicia’s “office”. He’d made an appointment a week before he’d arrived in the mansion. It wasn’t lost on Felicia that he only ever showed up when she’d done something “outrageous”.

They just finished making small talk and finally got to the real reason for his visit.

“Oh my, have you heard? I am ever so fortunate to have found them!”

Viscount Barrera eyebrow twitched.

“Pardon my insolence but is a lame knight truly a fortunate find?”

She chuckled and gave a sly smile, “A lame knight is the perfect kind of teacher for the Heir Childe.”

“How do you mean?”

“Come now Viscount, aren’t we both looking ahead? I can’t have the Heir Childe too ignorant, otherwise what will people say about the Fresa family? About you? About me? But on the other hand, if he’s too good that will be a problem for us later. A cripple teaching him is perfect. That he unexpectedly turned out to be a knight too is also useful. I will look very pious for hiring him.”

“...you didn’t know he was a knight when you approached him?”

She gave a tittering laugh. “How on earth would I have known that?”

“Then why did you pick him?”

“Honestly? I saw that he was extremely sturdy.”

“Sturdy?”

“Hm, and good looking too. Even if he wasn’t a knight, I thought he must have some skill for fighting with a body like that…” Her eyes narrowed and a lecherous expression flashed across her face, “As you know, when it comes to men and their bodies, I’ve never been wrong.”

The Viscount gave a gentle laugh while being utterly repulsed by her. At least she used to only bandy about with men of status, now she was going after commoners….

Opposite to what he was thinking, he pandered, “You’ve always had an excellent eye for people.”

“True! I was very surprised that he happened to be a knight!”

“Hm… did he tell you how he lost his leg?”

“Ah, I believe it was from some kind of horse riding accident.”

The Viscount was silent for a moment, thinking.

Seeing this reaction, Felicia couldn’t help worrying. But outwardly she asked with only mild curiosity, “Is there something wrong with him? Outside of the leg, I mean.”

“Not exactly…” He finally shook his head and gave a chuckle. “I looked into his history for you. Before the...accident… he was quite a patriot and loyal to the march.”

“Before? He’s not loyal now?”

“...well… he is likely bitter because he lost his leg…”

“What has that to do with me though?” Felicia pursed her lips. “Anyway, he did give a knight’s oath to Heir Childe. Unless he’s lost all honor, that ought to keep him out of trouble.”

“That’s true… and a little surprising.” The Viscount gave a low hum. “Keep a close eye on him, Marchioness. A man who’s suffered such a severe loss is not stable. He may unexpectedly turn on you.”

“Naturally I’ll do as you advise.” Felicia said smoothly, while feeling extremely alarmed at the not-so-veiled threat being made by the Viscount.

“Speaking of not being stable, what about those three foreign children you brought in? I heard two of them can’t even talk properly!”

Felicia gave a light laugh, “Honestly, I didn’t know they were foreign when I first approached them!”

“How did you miss that? Their skin is so strange...”

“They were so filthy at the time, I really had no idea! They were more like mud balls than people.”

“I’m surprised you picked them if they were that bad at the start.”

“It’s because they were so disgusting that I picked them.”

“...really?”

“Mmmhmmm. You think I was going to give perfectly good servants to Heir Childe?” She sniffed disdainfully. “He needs someone, but they can’t be too good. Just like with that knight. Though they unexpectedly cleaned up nicely. They’re quite exotic… well, that doesn’t matter in terms of them being servants to Heir Childe. A pretty cup without anything in it is just that, empty. Not knowing our customs, not understanding our language and culture, that kind of ignorance is wonderful because it makes them useless.”

“But as they grow up they will naturally learn.”

“Yes, but they’ll always be outsiders. And because they look unique they’ll be easy to track. Basically, he can’t use them for anything but servants and they won’t ever be treated whole-heartedly by our people because of their appearance.”

The Viscount gave a hesitant agreement, “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“And if they’d just been regular commoners… well, that was fine too. Commoners who are desperate to never return to their destitution are easy to control, you know. And even though those children turned out to be foreign, if you had seen the state they were in when I found them, you’d know they’d definitely never want to return to that again. So they’re just as good a commoner, with the added benefit of being vulnerable since they’re aliens who don’t know anything about this place.”

“And what about their origins? Aren’t you curious how they ended up in the March?”

“I am, but they can’t speak well enough for me to find out the details.”

“What if I told you I know where they came from?”

Her face lit up and she leaned forward, “You naughty man, you’ve been holding out on me! Tell me everything you know!”

“They’re runaway…” He paused dramatically, “...slaves.”

“Slaves? Really?!” Felicia acted as though she’d heard a funny joke. “Who knew I found the perfect servants for Heir Childe! Worse than the poorest of commoners, slaves!”

“In fact, the trader who lost them had contacted me and asked me to keep a lookout for them. They’re considered top of the line merchandise because of their skin, you know.”

“Well, I do understand. They look marvelous once you strip away all the grime.” She hummed happily, “It’s a good thing he lost them. I got expensive slaves for free, lucky me!”

“Marchioness…” The Viscount gave a tolerant smile, like he was talking to a child. “Once word gets out the Heir Childe has foreigners for servants and playmates, it will naturally reach this trader’s ears. He will come asking for them back.”

“Oh.” She pouted and placed a hand on his knee, pleading, “Can’t you DO something about him for me, my dear Barrera? I really want to keep them now!”

The Viscount’s chubby face noticeably twitched at her touch. He picked up her hand, gave it a single gentle pat before placing it back on her lap.

“But that trader will be very disappointed if I don’t give them back now that they’re found…”

“It’s just that they’re SHINY and that makes them INTERESTING.” Felicia sighed dramatically. “Do you know how bored I’ve been lately? It’s really so nice to have something interesting to look at.”

“Mmmm… well…”

“Plus,” She gave a catlike grin. “My guess is the oldest one is around 12 or 13 and already so tall. I’m sure as he gets older and puts some meat on his bones, he will be. Very. Handsome.”

Viscount Barrera froze for a moment. Felicia wondered if she’d disgusted him to the point that his brain had stopped working. Calle had long since been labelled a sexual deviant in his mind, but even he likely hadn’t expected her new “interest” to be “raising” a “lover”.

He gave himself a shake and suddenly came back to himself.

“Hah, since it’s so important to you, I will arrange it. But Marchioness…” The Viscount gave her a concerned stare, “...please do be careful with your new “interests”... if word were to get out…”

“Oh now, have some faith in me Viscount, I’m not a fool.” She giggled and waved her hand at him. “By keeping his siblings as hostages, he won’t be able to say or do anything against me. Why else do you think I threw them at the Heir Childe as companions? I wasn’t going to keep all three of them initially you know. Especially the girl, she’d be useless.”

The Viscount blinked rapidly. Perhaps because of the previous shock, he actually gave his honest opinion out loud: “That’s… actually that’s a good plan.”

She grinned maliciously, “Isn’t it?”

———

Lord Curtidor, knight and current martial arts teacher to the Heir of Fresa, found himself facing the young Nanny Flor. He’d noticed that for several days she’d been following him around, sneaking peeks at him. It was very puzzling behavior and he wondered if he ought to do something about it.

Today, the elusive Nanny had finally come up to him. She didn’t say a word, her head lowered and cheeks a flaming red. She stood there and wouldn’t let him pass. After several moments of this awkward silence he finally asked,

“Can I help you… Miss?”

She suddenly looked up at him, very determined, and did something he wasn’t expecting. Taking both hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He was so stunned he almost missed that she slipped something down the front of his shirt when she let go. It felt suspiciously like paper. Before he could ask what she was doing, she covered her face with her hands and sprinted away like a fleeing criminal.

For several moments he didn’t move. Then, remembering the paper that had been slipped into his shirt, he hobbled to his room, closed the door, and sat down. Fortunately the Butler had obeyed his mistress and actually given Claro a room befitting his status: that is to say, he didn’t share it with anyone.

Untucking his shirt, a small neatly folded piece of paper fell out.

On it was the following message:

‘Lord Curtidor,

This is written by Marchioness Fresa.

First, please forgive Nanny Flor. She’s mute and can’t flirt without being very straight forward about it. I ordered her to follow you around and act coy. It’s the easiest way to pass on messages without looking suspicious. Everyone will just think she has her heart set on you. I apologize if you don’t like the attention or the resulting rumors, but bear with it.

Second, I am always being watched by the Viscount. He is not a good man. I have been putting on a show for him for years to get him to let his guard down with me. Talking to you would not usually be a problem, but he’s very suspicious of you. I think he wants to get rid of you, if I am being honest. Thanks to his suspicion of you, I must resort to using a maiden’s love just to pass along a message...

Which brings me to this note.

I deeply implore you to teach Querido to the best of your abilities. There are things I, his mother, can’t teach him but you, a man and a knight, can. I have absolute confidence in your abilities, no matter what I say publicly. Be assured that no matter what show I put on for the public, I am on your side.

However, you must not let it look like you are earnestly teaching the Fresa Heir. The Viscount is counting on Querido growing up weak and gullible and without allies. Only in this way can the Viscount secure his future, by having a Puppet Marquess who only listens to him.

I said the Viscount is suspicious of you and is thinking of getting rid of you. You are currently being watched as he decides what course of action to take. If he thinks you can be another tool to weaken the Heir Childe, he will let you stay. But if he thinks you’re genuinely helping Querido, he will make sure you “disappear” from the Mansion.

And I can’t stop him.

So you must take every effort to make your training seem ineffective.

I know this will be hard, but Querido will work with you if you explain things to him. You may think this is just a mother’s boast, but Querido is very intelligent. He understands the situation and will perfectly cooperate with your plans.

Lastly, it is not enough to seem like an useless teacher, you must give yourself a flaw that will make everyone think you are a useless person. Specifically, you must make the Viscount think you’re half the man you actually are, otherwise he will never let up his careful watch of you. It’s only when he’s decided you’re no longer a threat that he’ll turn his eyes away and you can finally have some freedom.

For your flaw, I personally recommend losing yourself in the bottle. People will just think you’re drinking because you lost your leg. We make some fine mead in the mansion, so it will be a tasty flaw to fake.

Do not trust anyone but myself, Querido, and Nanny Flor. When Valor is properly trained, he can be trusted too. But no one else, no matter how friendly they seem. The Viscount’s eyes are everywhere.

We are surrounded by wolves here, Lord Curtidor. If you truly side with the Heir, be careful that no one catches on.

Burn this letter when you’ve read it.

Marchioness Calle Mora Fresa

PS: Flor is a very nice young woman. You should seriously consider her if you’re looking to start a family.’

Claro sat on his bed in a daze for a long time after reading the Marchioness’ letter.

The doubt that had sprung up in his heart on his first day of employment reared its head again.

What were the rumors about the Marchioness?

She was sold to the old Marquess to pay back a family debt and, in revenge, she murdered both the Marquess and his nearest kin? That she was an arrogant wastrel, an adulteress spendthrift gobbling up the people’s livelihood and leaving them destitute, all so she could live in extravagance? She beat servants and worse, sometimes her servants “disappeared”. Violent, murderous, a terrible person…

These kinds of rumors were what circulated in the lower nobility. Among commoners she was labelled a witch and a harlot, selling her soul to the devil and eating souls to make up what she lacked from that deal. She ate the soul of her son and that’s why she never showed him to anyone, lest they realize he was empty inside.

The Fresa Fief was in terrible condition and everyone, down to the smallest and most insignificant person, blamed the Marchioness for it.

But was that really true?

He’d been in the Mansion for the week and he found it very hard to believe. He’d never seen a noble treat their servants as well as she did. They had fixed work schedules, time off, a thing called “vacation”, Mansion-paid doctor visits, and got extra rewards on top of their normal wage. And their wage was on par with what the King’s servants in the castle made!

If she was a witch, then he was a one-legged turnip.

And that didn’t even get into what happened with the long time Steward. That, by itself, showed without any doubt what she valued and what she expected from the people underneath her.

The cruel woman of the rumors would have had the Steward tortured and hung, his corpse left hanging in the nearby town as a warning. Instead she’d been merciful and that corrupt Steward was still alive, forced to work his debt off in debtor’s prison. Even good nobles wouldn’t have left a man like that alive, much less a bad one.

Of course the servants in the mansion didn’t have just good things to say about her. There were years of abuse and neglect. Otherwise the Steward would never have dared to behave so outlandishly. Though they were happy with the current system and behavior of their Marchioness, there was a low-level fear she would revert back to how she was before. Some even whispered this was all a game for her, getting their hopes up just to get the pleasure of crushing them later.

But this letter…

...I have been putting on a show for the Viscount for years...

...he is counting on Querido growing up weak...

...he will make sure you “disappear” from the Mansion... I can’t stop him...

...do not trust anyone…

...the Viscount’s eyes are everywhere...

He thought of the heartbroken woman in the carriage. How she didn’t show any disgust or pity, but was instead genuinely sad for them. Then the maid came in and she changed into the arrogant noble of rumor, a witch without a soul…

He shook his head.

This letter could be a trick.

He’d been too trusting once, he wouldn’t blindly trust again. He’d barely been in the mansion a week. Though he’d talked to people unimpeded, he hadn’t started training the Heir seriously yet. More time was needed before he could make up his mind.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Getting up, he hobbled to the fireplace—another perk granted thanks to his “status”— took the firesteel hanging nearby and used it to set the paper aflame. He watched it burn into ash.

He wouldn’t trust but he also wouldn’t ignore an earnest warning. If what she wrote was true and he didn’t listen, it was the Heir Querido who would suffer for it. He couldn’t risk that either.

———

Shakti Samudr Saahas, self-named Valor, tugged at his uniform’s collar in discomfort. It had been two weeks since he’d come to the place called Fresa Mansion and started the thing called “Valet Training”.

He disliked everything about it.

His father was a prince, paternal cousin to the Emperor, and leader of the western borderland’s cavalry. He was ranked the highest, 1,ooo, in the army for breeding and training the best war horses in the nation. Not to mention, all the horsemen taught by him were excellent.

His mother’s father was a court official who the Emperor had entrusted to manage the Great Western Plains of the Sabz Empire. The Great Western Plains was where his father raised and trained his glorious war horses. His grandfather ranked 100 for his skilled administration of the land bestowed to him, the highest a non-royal could go.

Saahas came from nobility on both sides. He was the product of a family with an illustrious history going back hundreds of years. His future was bright and everything had been laid out smoothly for him.

And then…

He lost it all.

His father was betrayed.

His mother, all his father’s harem, grandparents, even the house slaves, were ruthlessly murdered in front of him. His quick thinking saved his own life and two half-siblings, but they only escaped with their lives. The traitor let them live but not with any honor.

The traitor gleefully sold him and his half-siblings to a slaver. If that was all, Saahas thought there’d be a chance of being rescued by his Emperor Uncle later. But the traitor took even that hope away from him. He had the slave trader promise to sell them to a distant land, so that his Emperor Uncle would have no hope of finding and buying him back.

The boy who freely rode the Western Plains on his father’s magnificent war horses, was now reduced to serving the whelp of a small, worthless nation that didn’t even appear on maps in his homeland. It was enough to make his molars ache from the injustice of it all.

But he had to survive. Without him, his half-siblings wouldn’t make it. Even if they somehow miraculously lived, they would grow up and eventually forget their heritage without him there to remind them. His illustrious family line would end, reduced to nothing but exotic slaves who forgot their origins. So no matter how much he resented his current circumstances, he couldn’t die and he couldn’t sink into despair.

And to that end, he would lower his head and work for the pale, sickly looking people of this land. Even if it hurt his pride to serve a whelp, at least he wasn’t a slave and still retained some form of freedom.

Also… though it was a little uncomfortable to admit...

The welp wasn’t so bad.

He didn’t mistreat Achal and Nivida, but earnestly taught them the local language. Though he, Saahas, could not sit at the “master’s table” because he was a “valet in training”, his two younger siblings were allowed. They ate well and, even if the clothes of this place were strange, they were clean and finely dressed. From what his brother and sister told him, the quiet woman next to the welp was also very kind and gentle to them.

As for the woman with black eyes and hair, the one called “Marchioness”, he did not know what to make of her. Even though his understanding of the language here was limited, he knew when he was being insulted. It was like every word she spoke had to have a barb in it, irritating him to no end.

But her actions did not match her words. What to do with a person who said terrible things to your face but then turned around and made sure you were properly clothed, trained, fed, and had a comfortable bed to sleep in?

Even if he resented being a servant, he wasn’t so full of himself to not understand the opportunity she’d given to him. “Marchioness” was the ruler of this place. Under her was “Steward” and under that person was “Butler”. The second most authoritative servant in the house was directly teaching him. “Valet” was some kind of close servant to “Heir”, the Marchioness’ son.

For a foreigner who’d been found wandering the land covered in filth to be given this kind of honorable job was really strange and unusual. If their positions had been reversed, he definitely wouldn’t have been so generous.

And this was why he didn’t know how to deal with the Marchioness. What was she trying to do by taking them in? Was she actually that kind or did she want something from them? What could she want? His Uncle Emperor was too far away to claim as some kind of advantage… Technically they were slaves, they didn’t have anything to give her. Would she still keep them, once she discovered they were slaves? He was prepared to run with his half-siblings if she was going to give them back to the slave trader.

After suffering so much, he didn’t believe anyone would be good to them for no reason. Other than his family, who were all gone now, he’d learned the hard way that kindness from strangers was definitely a guise to get something from him.

———

Felicia stood in the remodelled guest room on the second floor and grinned wide in satisfaction. It’d taken almost 3 months from the first time she visited Countess Marron, but she’d finally got everything she needed for her classroom.

There was no printing press in her fief and the population was mostly illiterate so there was no one to buy and read books even if they had one. Therefore, she’d gone over the Marron fief and bought as many “educational” books as she could find and then put in orders for more from the bookstore catalog. She had also found blank books, or journals in her day, that she used to write down her personal lesson plans.

She’d gone to the small library in the mansion that had originally been used by the late Marquess and also pulled from there. She took a copy of the King’s Law, Holy Scriptures, History of Ancient Vicissitudes, Book of Common Poems, a map of Fresa fief and the Salvias Kingdom. These two maps weren’t as nice as the one’s the Marron’s had, but they would do for now.

Besides those, she also went to the “fief office”, which was perpetually left empty because the Viscount was never in, and copied fief management records from the time the Marquess was ruling.

It seemed to her the best way to teach Rido how to manage a fief was through positive and negative examples. The best negative example would be from the Viscount, but she knew he’d be extremely suspicious if she stuck her nose into his paperwork. Taking from the deceased Marquess, on the other, shouldn’t cause him any alarm.

Beyond that, it was a matter of supplies and furniture. Some things were easy to get and some things took time. All the furniture in this era was custom made, which meant she couldn’t just go and grab what she needed from a store somewhere. Unlike Serio Marron’s study, Felicia chose a more classic “classroom” feel. Well, classic for her anyway, unique for this place.

The most time consuming portion was lesson planning. Everything else was ready in a month, but making lessons dragged out for 2 months. And she didn’t even finish a full course, she just put down as much as she could remember for the age groups she was teaching. She wasted a lot of paper editing her initial information and got at least three hand cramps for her trouble. This was all done in between her day-to-day tasks of running the mansion, fending off the occasional visit from the Viscount, and “wooing” the Marron family.

After Felicia was done she had a new appreciation for teachers. She had no idea how difficult it was to put together a lesson plan, while earnestly trying to make the information interesting and applicable to the students’ life. Complicating matters was she was using her host to translate her ideas and sometimes her host didn’t quite understand what was being asked of her. Felicia could just go with route memory, which seemed to be how Calle had learned, but she was teaching a genius who had a big future ahead. As much as she was able, she wanted to impart on him the best information she could from her timeline and this world.

She had two children and a nanny she would first teach to read and write, two other children would be taught to speak the language along with writing. After some thought, she placed a chair outside the door and had Lord Curtidor sit there to “guard” their classroom. This was actually just her way of letting him eavesdrop on the lessons. He was also teaching Rido and in the future would be an important ally. He needed to understand her son’s way of thinking, and knowing how he was taught would help.

And who knows, maybe he’d learn something too.

Lessons were taught between lunch and dinner, five days a week. Her mornings were reserved for mansion business, and the two days off were for her own sanity. Weekends were something of a foreign concept, but Felicia had been steeped in two lifetimes where it existed and she liked it too much to let it go.

The first month did not go very well. Felicia had never taught before and Calle's rotten mouth wasn’t exactly suited for teaching either. The three shiny children struggled to understand her lessons and her genius golden-boy’s ability to understand was very hit or miss. This wasn’t the fault of her students, Felicia just wasn’t expressing herself well and knew it.

She had to go back and revise her lesson plans. This took another month. In the meantime, she used the good weather to walk the children outside, helping the two shiny children learn their words and teaching the older ones basic facts of nature. Since the host was an ignoramus in the sciences, she didn’t interfere too much with the process for fear of making herself look stupid.

After she felt confident in her lesson plans, she went back to doing her sit-down, classroom style teaching again. The second time was much better, mostly because she spoke as little as possible and just had everyone copy what she wrote.

Somewhere in the midst of this she got an invitation from a group of people she’d completely forgotten about: the club. That is, the notorious but “secret” group of nobles who indulged in their sexual vices and deviances.

Actually, this invitation looked very innocent. Like an acquaintance inviting her to a ritzy party, a perfectly normal thing for a noblewoman. But this particular person was who the host used to get news about club meetings and events. Basically they never talked to each other outside of club business.

The first invitation she’d burned in the fireplace. Felicia was a pure hearted young woman. She’d tried so hard to forget about her host's disturbing sexual adventures and mishaps. Just having that invitation show up brought up all kinds of unpleasant host memories and left her feeling ill all day. The next day she was distracted by a visit from the Viscount and completely forgot about the invitation.

A few weeks later she got another invitation. This time she didn’t forget. She sent a polite “no thank you, I’m no longer interested in attending these events” to the invitation and thought that was the end of it.

It’s not as though the club had strict rules concerning participation or cancelation. As long as Calle didn’t squeal to the authorities about the club or it’s members, they shouldn’t care one way or the other.

Or so she thought. Then Rama Verde dropped by without warning.

This was the youngest son of Count Verde, a neighboring fief of Mora. He was a long time member of the club and the person who introduced Calle to it. He was a big part in turning the bitter, spoiled Calle Mora Fresa into the fine hedonist of today.

More importantly, he was Querido’s biological father.

Actually, they were pretty close within the club up until Calle gave birth and realized who the father of her son was. After that Calle basically cut all ties with him. He hadn’t been happy with the sudden cold shoulder, since her “favor” within the club was one of the best, but he’d been a hedonist longer than she had: when one source of pleasure was cut off from him, he sought out a new one.

Felicia did not want to have anything to do with this guy. There were various reasons for this, but the main one was that Rama and Querido looked related. The Verde family resemblance was strong. It would be extremely bad if they were seen in a room together.

Just because Rido had “black hair and eyes” didn’t cover up the fact that his face didn’t look like the deceased Marquess. Currently everyone assumed he took after his mother, but if Rido and Rama stood side by side… the connection would be obvious…. It wasn’t the servants figuring it out that would be bad, their gossip would just be more bad rumors on top of bad rumors, but Rama figuring it out was a different story.

That guy’s moral compass had broken a long time ago. He would never view Querido as his son, but as a tool, and Calle was just a way to satisfy his desires. He’d use Rido’s existence to blackmail Calle.

After all, he wasn’t married, he hadn’t committed adultery and passed off an illegitimate child as another’s Heir. All those crimes fell squarely on Calle. Of the two of them, it was Calle that would suffer if anyone found out.

Unlike the Viscount, Rama Verde had no strong motivation to keep the Fresa Heir’s origins a secret. Once the initial fun of blackmailing faded, he’d get lazy. The right amount of money, pleasure, or pressure would make him cough up the secret. Peasant rumors were one thing, if Rama—the son of a count—talked that would be considered a reliable source.

Her face went through various shades of blue, green, purple, and red when she was informed he’d shown up unannounced at her doorstep. This guy really knew how to push boundaries. If he’d come earlier in the day, she could have sent him to the nearby inn on her dime guilt-free. But it was late in the day, just before dinner, and according to noble etiquette she needed to let him in, feed him, and give him a room for the night.

Nobles got a lot of privileges, like owning a mansion, but there were rules that came with all of them, like having to entertain guests. She could break with convention and turn him away, but that was like snubbing the entire Verde family. Rama might be a degenerate, but he was still a son of Count Verde. It wasn’t good to antagonize an entire noble family of equal rank within “her circle” for no good reason.

She had someone quickly send word that Querido would have to eat with his companions in his room tonight and tomorrow morning. He wasn’t to come out, but stay hidden. Even though she didn’t explain why, she trusted him to obey.

As the maid left to tell the Heir, she glanced at DARS.

‘Frick man, why is this guy tormenting me? I haven’t seen him for years! Did the club want to remind me about the unwritten rules? They didn’t have to send the guy I’d been obviously snubbing for that!’

[I believe it’s the Viscount’s doing.]

‘...wut?’

[It appears he’s testing you. Your behavior has been strange after all.]

‘Aw man, frickinfraken—! That stupid Viscount!!!!!!’

After thinking hard for several seconds, she called Valor to her.

She had her maid tell the Butler to let Rama in and place him in the waiting room, feeding him whatever snacks he might like until she arrives.

Valor arrived quickly. He’d been eating regular, hearty meals for weeks at this point and had properly filled out. He no longer looked like a walking skeleton. Between his shiny bronze skin and cyan hair and eyes, he really did turn out to be handsome like she’d explained to the Viscount.

Of course she wasn’t interested in him that way. He couldn’t be over 14 years old and, to Felicia who’d lived twice and was in the body of a mature adult woman, he still looked like a child.

When she thought he was handsome, it was in the same way a person might say a horse, dog, or P*kemon is handsome. It was said as an observation, not out of passionate desire.

He knocked twice on the door and didn’t enter until she called him in. Once he was inside, he took exactly two steps forward and then a step to the side, getting out of the way of the door but not approaching Felicia. Until she directly ordered him to come and sit, he did not speak to her or look into her face.

This was the exact way a valet was supposed to act. Similar to her maids, they were to be invisible but always available.

“Marchioness Fresa, how may I serve you?” He asked after sitting down at a perfect 90 degree angle.

Though he still had an accent, it wasn’t as heavy and he could now speak in full proper sentences depending on the circumstances. He’d been taught canned questions and answers by the Butler. The moment he had to speak “outside of the script” or got excited, his speaking skills broke down. He also sometimes got confused if a person spoke too fast or had an accent themselves—a problem because quite a few servants in the manor weren’t educated and spoke with a thick twang.

Even so, he showed remarkable intelligence to learn as quickly as he did.

She stared at him for several seconds, causing him to get nervous.

Finally she sighed and explained, “Tonight you will serve me at dinner.”

He tilted his head, “I will serve Marchioness?”

“Yes and…” She bit her lip, “You need to pretend to be my lover.”

“Lover? What is lover?”

“Two people who are intimate?”

“Inti...mate?”

“...ugh, I don’t have time to explain, I will show it.” She stood up and walked behind the chair he was sitting on, carefully tracing a hand along his arm and a finger across his face. She leaned down and whispered huskily in his ear, “Lover.”

Valor’s body froze, goosebumps breaking out all over his body.

She sat back down and raised her eyebrows.

“Understand?”

His bronze cheeks flushed slightly. If he didn’t understand what a “lover” was at this point he’d be an idiot.

But knowing didn’t make him feel better. Horror welled up in him.

She was at least 20 years older than him!

And she looked ugly with her sickly skin!

Plus she was the Marchioness and he was a valet in training! The status difference was enormous and guaranteed he’d be treated as a toy and nothing else!

“No lover.” He shook his head over and over again, panicking and not caring that his behavior was taboo for a servant. “I not lover!”

Seeing him panic, Felicia rolled her eyes.

“Of course you’re not my lover!”

He stopped shaking his head, intensely relieved.

“Not lover?”

“Pretend lover.”

“What pretend?”

“In front of guests and servants, you are my lover. Alone with me and with Heir Childe, not my lover. Pretend.”

Valor went silent, thinking. A fake lover? Him?

“Why?”

She smiled at him. It was a tired smile.

“To stay alive.”

“...alive? Live?” His eyes widened slightly. “Danger?!”

“Yes, danger. To live, we’ll be lovers.” She raised an eyebrow, “I’m not interested in children, I won’t really touch you. Only pretend, not real, not all the time. Got it?”

His face blushed again and he nodded. The knot in his stomach relaxed. So this was her trying to avoid some kind of danger? It seemed she didn’t desire him in an inappropriate way and would just put on a show and never do anything serious...

Considering she’d saved his life and his two half-siblings lives, agreeing to this outlandish and uncomfortable request was a small thing.

“I will pretend lovers.”

“Good. Just remember, this is between you and me. Don’t tell anyone else unless I give you permission.”

“Yes, Marchioness Fresa.”

———

Felicia walked into the waiting room to find Rama Verde drinking tea. To her host, Rama was a breathtakingly good looking man, but to Felicia he was just a little bit above average. The only thing Felicia thought was remarkable was his emerald green hair and eyes.

Glancing at his hair, she inwardly pouted. This was likely the closest she’d ever get to seeing what Querido’s hair looked like...

When she entered, he stood from his seat and walked over to her.

Grabbing her hands, he said in a warm affectionate voice, “It’s been ages Calle! I’ve missed seeing your lovely face!”

This kind of intimate greeting had been normal between them, many years ago. Felicia forced herself not to jump backwards in revulsion. She calmly removed her hands from his, unwilling to prolong any physical contact.

“Good evening, Lord Verde. What brings you to Fresa Mansion this evening?” With that, she found a single-seat chair and sat in it.

This way, he couldn’t sit next to her.

Rama’s expression twisted slightly at her response before returning to it’s originally friendly expression. He sat on the sofa directly across from her.

“Do friends need a reason to visit each other?”

“If they are stopping by so late,” She narrowed her eyes, “usually, yes.”

Seeing she was determined to be cold, he pouted.

“I’m travelling through the country. I happened to be near by and thought I’d come see you. It’s been so long…. after… all…”

His voice petered out when Valor walked into the room pushing a tray of fresh tea. In the evening, when there was only the pale setting sun and the candles for light, his skin looked particularly lumenous. Under usual circumstances Rama wouldn’t pay any attention to someone who was obviously a servant, but Valor was too eye-catching for him to ignore.

“My God, what is that?!”

Felicia’s eyelid twitched.

What a rude man!

“A foreigner I picked up a while back.”

“Foreigner? So it’s a human?”

Felicia laughed, though inside she was angry. What did he think Valor was, a tinman!? Of course he was human!

“Oh yes, very human. Male in fact.” She motioned Valor closer, telling him “Leave the tea for a moment and come to me.”

Valor came over and stood passively by his mistress. Felicia stood up and circled him, a finger tracing along his shoulders as she did. Valor blushed furiously and felt goosebumps rise where she’d touched, but managed to control his expression by repeating to himself it was all an act.

“Isn’t he marvelous?” She grabbed his arm and twirled a finger on the back of his hand, “His skin is particularly soft too, not at all like what you’d expect from the look of it.”

Rama saw her actions and his eyebrows rose.

A knowing grin rose on his face, “You’re very familiar with how his skin feels?”

Felicia let go of Valor’s hand and stepped behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Despite being young, his head already reached her chin. She had to move her face to the side to look at Rama.

“Certain parts of it, yes.”

Valor’s whole face burst into a bright red, clearly reflected in the candlelight. He felt incredibly humiliated and it was taking all his self-control not to bolt out the room in shame.

Felicia could feel his slight trembling and realized she’d underestimated his innocence. Though she’d have been embarrassed at his age, it wouldn’t have elicited such a strong reaction. It hadn’t occurred to her a back hug might cause him genuine distress.

Because Calle was a hedonist who held no respect for servants and Felicia came from a different era, she’d forgotten that men and women didn’t have much physical contact here. The sexes could work and socialize together just fine, but outside of dancing and occasional hand contact, they didn’t touch each other unless they were family.

And who knew what it was like in Valor’s homeland? The standards might actually be more strict there.

Felicia smoothly let go of Valor, feeling guilty. She didn’t give this kid a physiological scar for life, did she? Inwardly she apologized numerous times and promised not to touch so much in the future.

“How old is he?” Rama asked curiously, unaware of what had just transpired.

“Oh hm… 12 or 13? He might actually be 14, but it’s hard to say since he doesn’t know our calendar system so I can’t figure out his exact age.”

“He’d be tall for a 12 year old...”

Felicia pat Valor’s hair and giggled, “I thought so too but if you look at the face, it’s still got a lot of child chub. If he’s 14, he’s got quite the baby face.”

Rama looked at Valor’s face closely and saw that Calle was right. His face hadn’t filled out enough to be considered in his mid-teens.

“Ah, you might be right,” He then glanced at Calle, eyebrows raised lavisciously, “I had no idea you were interested in... younger... men, Calle.”

“Don’t accuse me of things I haven’t done,” Felicia whined cutely, frowning slightly, “It’s not that I’m interested in younger men, just this particular young man.”

She briskly gave Valor a side hug, trying to look flirtatious without really touching him.

“Hm… he doesn’t seem very experienced…” Rama observed after seeing Valor stand there like a statue with a blushing face.

Felicia let go of Valor, much to the boy’s relief, and put her hands on her hips. “How could he possibly have any real “experience” at his age?”

“Well, they say he’s a slave so I thought—”

“Where did you hear that?” Felicia asked sharply.

Rama blinked innocently, “It’s just the rumors floating around.”

Valor broke out into a cold sweat. How did this man know he was a slave? Was he with that slave trader???

“Well, you heard wrong. I, a citizen of Salvias, naturally don’t have any slaves. That would be going against the King’s Law, after all.” She enunciated each word with force, glaring at Rama. “If you hear anyone spreading such a malicious rumor, you will straight away correct them for me.”

Hearing her adamant denial of him being a slave, the fear in Valor’s heart lessened. She either didn’t believe he was a slave or she was saying he was no longer a slave by virtue of working for her. He sincerely hoped it was the second one.

“...pardon me, I meant nothing by what I said.” Rama apologized in a mild tone.

She huffed and asked, “How is it you heard rumors about him but were still shocked when you saw him?”

He laughed, “I’ve been caught! Actually, I was really curious about the rumor and wanted to see it for myself.”

“You imposed on me for a reason like that?” She frowned in obvious annoyance.

“Can you blame me? Three shiny servants showed up in the Fresa Mansion…” He brightened, “Speaking of that, where are the other two?”

“With the Heir Childe. They are his companions.”

“Oh yes, the reclusive Heir of Fresa! There’s someone else I haven’t seen before, how about—”

“No.” Her expression turned frosty. “He’s not used to dealing with nobles and it’s late besides.”

“But—”

Felicia turned to Valor, “Check and see if dinner is ready.”

Valor gave a stiff bow, “As you wish, Marchioness” and left in a hurry.

“Oh, so he can talk.” Rama noted in amusement. “What an interesting accent he has too.”

“Hm… Viscount Barrera says they came from some place to the east of here.”

“How far must they be from, if we’ve never seen anyone like them before?”

“I’ve been wondering that too… It’s not like we don’t get quite a few people from far countries at our port.”

Rama rubbed his chin thoughtfully, muttering to himself, “Imagine a fresh little girl with skin like that… I wonder if I could get one...”

Felicia’s expression froze for a split second before relaxing.

It was a crying shame she couldn’t kick this guy’s ass.

How she muddled through the rest of the evening, she wasn’t sure. Most of Rama’s comments were about rumors and thinly veiled references to their once-mutual sexual deviances. She couldn’t remember what anything tasted like during dinner and keenly missed her little son’s presence.

Valor was required to serve the Marchioness the entire evening. Felicia made sure to “tease” him whenever he got close enough. It was fortunate he didn’t understand the hidden meaning behind half of the conversation being made, otherwise his feelings of horrified embarrassment would have doubled. When he was dismissed for the night, he ran to his room without stopping. He hadn’t felt that strung out since he’d first been sold into slavery!

He wasn’t the only one, Felicia was also strung out.

‘I wish I could have used Curtidor but Rama would never believe Calle would be interested in a guy with one leg…’ She stared up at her canopied bed, exhausted. ‘DARS, is Valor alright? Did I scar him for life?’

[He is not so traumatized that he won’t be able to recover.]

‘But he IS traumatized? Aw man, I feel so bad…’

[No matter how bad you feel, if you want to deceive the Viscount you’ll need to keep—] DARS paused. [It appears Rama Verde is outside your door.]

‘Huh? Why?!’

[Why do you think a man is sneaking around a woman’s door this late at night?]

‘He can’t possibly— I didn’t show any interest!!!!!!!!’

[Calle has played hard-to-get in the past.]

‘Frick my life!’ Felicia wanted to strangle her host, but alas it was now her body too and that wasn’t an option. ‘Wait, the night shift should stop him, right?’

Her maids went in rotation, with one manning the door the entire night.

[It appears your maid has been bribed.]

‘...well, she’s definitely getting fired for this in the morning…’ Felicia muttered darkly, moving her body to the edge of the bed.

It’s hinges oiled to perfection, her door opened without the slightest squeak. Felicia waited patiently for her would-be molester to get right next to the bed. She swung her foot out, kicking him hard in the leg. Since he wasn’t prepared for her to attack him, his posture had been relaxed and defenseless. He took the full blow, stumbled to the floor and cried out in pain.

Before he could do anything else, she’d jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground with a knee and a firm armlock. He struggled for a moment in panic, but couldn’t get out of her tight “embrace”.

Mentally she gave herself a V for Victory, proud she’d managed to remember this move from her first life. She’d learned it because a friend was into martial arts and insisted on teaching her. Having lots of friends with a wide range of hobbies and interests did prove useful!

Rama’s face was turning purple from the lack of oxygen. He managed to spit out, “It’s— It’s me—!”

Felicia glanced at his face, pretending to be surprised and only then let go.

Standing up, she said innocently, “Goodness, it’s only you! I thought someone was trying to molest me! What on earth are you doing in a lady’s bedroom at this time of night?”

Rama, who felt like his leg had been broken and he’d almost been strangled to death, gave her a fierce glare. They both knew what he was trying to do.

Voice rough from her chokehold, he rubbed his throat and complained, “You almost killed me, woman!”

Felicia put her arms across her chest, unrepentant. “You almost scared me to death.”

“If you didn’t want to you could have just said, there was no reason for violence!”

“I didn’t know it was you!”

“Who else would it be?!”

“A hooligan, obviously! Even that little foreigner knows to wait to be invited!”

“You—you—!” He pointed at her angrily, “You always liked being surprised before!”

“Before? And how many years ago was that?”

“....er, that is...”

“It’s been years, hasn’t it? People’s tastes change! Yet you still had the audacity to act like you knew me!” She scolded him without mercy. “If you want to blame me for something, blame me for thinking you were smart enough to know when you’ve been tossed aside for a younger, better looking man!”

Rama’s mouth fell open, momentarily struck dumb. She’d managed to touch on an insecurity he’d developed ever since he turned 35 and his hair started to gray.

“You don’t mean that!” He screeched and tried to stand. The spot where she’d kicked still hurt and he stumbled back down.

Felicia raised her chin, “I mean it!”

“I’m the best looking man in this kingdom! You’ll never do better than me!”

“I beg your pardon? I’m sure you saw the one who is your direct competitor and he’s definitely better than you.”

“That foreigner is practically a baby!” Rama sneered. “You think you can be happy with his clumsy attempts? Only an experienced man can give you what you want!”

She raised her eyebrows, “He’ll give me exactly what I want, because he’ll be taught directly by me. Unlike you and the rest, who only care about satisfying yourselves, his entire life will revolve around me and me alone.”

Rama furrowed his brow, looking confused, “What?”

“Oh? Did you think I was happy with you? With the others?” She gave a low laugh. “It took me years, but I realized: I only had that disgusting old man for comparison. Naturally, put next to him, anyone would look good. But that didn’t mean I was really enjoying myself, it didn’t mean I felt fulfilled. I was just going along with everyone because I didn’t know better.”

“That’s why you want to leave?”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a second, feeling her explanation was logical enough but at the same time didn’t make any sense. When thinking about it didn’t get him an answer, he crawled back up and decided to change the subject.

“Where did you learn to pin a person down like that?”

“Learn? I just did what I thought would work in the moment.”

He squinted his eyes, unbelieving. That series of movements looked too fluid and were far too precise to be done without prior training.

She put her hands on her hips and scowled, “Since we’re done with this late night chat, I’d like for you to leave and let me get some sleep.”

“If you broke or permanently damaged any part of my body…”

She scoffed, “Even if I did, would you really go around telling everyone it was me that did it? I realize you're a prodigal son, but I thought you at least had your pride as a man.”

This shut him up. He’d taken too many hits to his masculinity and decided to withdraw without a further word. He hobbled out angrily, not daring to see what kind of expression Calle was making as he went.

‘What do you think DARS, did it work?’

[He won’t tell the Viscount about tonight. You hurt his pride as a man, twice. Instead he will focus on your disgusting interest in young foreign boys.]

‘That hypocrite! He was thinking of getting a girl for himself, the perv! I should have accidently aimed for between his legs!’

[A man who plays with fire will eventually get burned.]

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

[He treats sex like a drug and is constantly trying to get high off it. He will keep trying to do more and more dangerous things to get his “fix” and eventually he will get caught. By then, his perversions will be so severe that being the son of a Count won’t save him.]

She snorted and plopped back onto her bed.

‘That doesn’t make me happy. Considering all the things he could do… he’ll definitely hurt someone.’

[He will.]

‘I wish I could do something to stop him.’

[Unfortunately, you don’t have the manpower to keep track of him or take him down.] DARS paused. [You could use [Location Target] on him?]

Felicia stared at DARS stupidly.

DARS sighed. [Have you forgotten your skills?]

‘Actually…’ She scratched her nose sheepishly, ‘I did! What were they again?’

[ [Location Target], [Charm], [Instant Pass], and [Natural DIY].]

“Location target… the stalker skill… that lets me keep track of people right?’

[Correct.]

She thought for a minute.

‘Nah, I don’t think I want to know where that guy is at any given time.’ She cocked her head, ‘Unless you think it’s a good idea?’

[It’s up to you how you use your skills.]

‘...right. I’d forgotten all about them though. I don’t even know what I would do with…’ She stopped. ‘Hey hey… that [Natural DIY] skill… you think I can make a knee joint if I had it?’

[Yes, though it would be very basic.]

She was thinking about Lord Curtidor and his missing leg. They did have prosthetics in this timeline, but they were crude and the joints weren't mobile. Though she knew how a fake knee ought to work, she didn't know how to build one. So instead of being able to build him a prosthetic leg, she'd settled on a forearm crutch. That was at least better than him using a T crutch all the time...

‘Exactly how does that skill work? Like, do I need to have a rough idea how something works or…?’

[As long as you know what you want to make or what kind of task you want a machine to perform, you can make it. Some caveats are that the knowledge supplied is limited to the materials available to the timeline, era, and location you are in. If the materials do not exist, you can’t make it. You also can not make things that are too complicated. For instance, you could make a glider but not a plane. A carriage but not a car. Your own body’s dexterity and strength will also limit what you can make.]

‘If I’m not strong enough to make it, can I write, like, schematics or something and have someone else make it?’

[Yes.]

Felicia was quiet for a long time before she suddenly started to giggle.

“Hehe.”

[?]

“Hehehehehehehe.”

[!]

Lying on her back, hands reaching to the ceiling, she gripped them into fists.

‘I just figured out how to make this timeline a better place!’