A deep thank you to my Pateron supporters, you make translating possible and accessible for everyone else and raw provider: Laylie
Damia spoke firmly, trying to close the topic, and it was not empty talk because those were her honest feelings. Her faith as such was absolutely assured, especially since Akkard attempted to “draw a line” with her before parting.
Cecil heard the conviction in her voice, and she, who had been slightly bent forward, belatedly hummed and snorted.
“Who’s worried? I was just curious!”
“Okay, thanks anyway.”
Damia’s face, smiling with her eyes down, had already matured. Kael, who had been her unrequited love for ten years, left, and her heart had collapsed, but Damia did not show anything. Cecil felt worse.
“Damia. If you want, you can stay at my house longer.”
“No. I should go back now.”
It was morning, Damia’s put down her cup of tea, her hair slightly disheveled.
“To the house. “
The adventure is over.
Damia had been dumped and rejected by Kael Roysten and slept with an Akkard Valerian in a fit of anger to scratch Cesare’s insides. None of those actions were like Damia.
It was a great pleasure to take off the shackles that had bound me with invisible discipline, body manners, and sociality’s morality.
It was much more stimulating, hotter, and more enjoyable than I imagined. I had probably made unforgettable memories.
However, it was time for the stone to move back to its original position. As Damier Primula, daughter of a Northern nobleman and future heir who will one day succeed Count Primula,
Cesare wasn’t at home, as Cecil said. It was because he went to meet his step-father, Count Primula. Instead, it was a handsome middle-aged woman with orange-scarlet eyes like the sunset who greeted Damia.
“You’re home, Damia.”
Holding the little boy in her arms, she looked at Dami with cautious eyes. Being weak and timid, she was always wary of her step-daughter, Damia.
“I’m back, Mother. I’ve been at Cecil’s house. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in advance.”
Her step-mother, Noella, smiled, reassured at Damia’s self-respecting answer, and laughed as if she was relieved. She asked after her with a face and tone that was more welcoming and warmer than usual.
“You’re late. I put the documents that need approval on your desk. Did you have lunch? You’re not tired?”
“……no, I’m not particularly hungry, and I’m not tired.”
At the same time, Noella’s half-brother Leon burst into laughter, clapped, and reached out to Damia as if pleased. Thanks to him, the awkward atmosphere was shattered.
Weak Noella had Leon late in life. She went to see the high priests at the temple every week to pray for her pregnancy.
Perhaps thanks to her sincerity, Leon was born as perfect and healthy as possible. Damia, who greeted her younger brother, looked at her step-mother and was ready to retire and take a rest.
But Noella looked at Damia, anxious and restless as if she had something she wanted to say.
Damia registered her look, puzzled momentarily when a haughty woman’s voice came from behind her.
“Lady Damia! You’re finally home.”
It was an unexpected guest. Blond-haired, doll-like Louise was a distant relative of Akkard Valerian. Her brother, Lessid, brought Akkard to Kael’s farewell party the day before yesterday.
Lessid was a decent young man, but his sister Louise was not.
She had an excellent disposition to make people uncomfortable.
Just like right now.
“I can’t believe you’re coming home now! Did you have a good time with my cousin? Because of your frivolous behavior, Cesare even left the mansion.”
As expected, Louise’s first words were attacks. Instead of answering, Damia glanced at Noella. It was clear that the weak step-mother couldn’t stand Louise’s momentum and was somewhat complacent.
“Because of your loose relationships with men, my picnic with Cesare has been canceled. Thank you very much.”
Louise raised her chin in a very self-righteous and angry manner. Damia was stunned that Louise was venting her resentment on her.
She seemed to like Damia’s step-brother, Cesare, and this new bit of information was too much for her to process, nevermind have to deal with in her current fatigued state. Louise’s mental state might be seriously compromised, more than Damia had originally assumed.
“Why aren’t you talking? Oh, my God, Damia! You didn’t mean to interrupt my picnic with Cesare, did you? Do you really like Cesare?”
Again. She’s doing it again. Louise Ferria’s compulsion to say the most offensive thoughts that ran through her demented mind– which Cecil calls a “tragic disease.”