Chapter 13
I’ve prided myself on encountering all sorts of people throughout my life.
Especially during my youth spent on the battlefield, I formed connections that I never could have on this island.
But an egg? That was a first, I swear.
‘The master made of an egg…….’
I closely examined the egg sitting plump in the center of the large bed, its size at least half my height. It was pretty for an egg, though.
‘Is this some kind of Weatherwoods family joke?’
Maybe the real Viscount Weatherwoods would appear from the back of the room while I was flustered.
Just in case, I exaggerated my movements and pretended to be shocked.
“Good heavens!”
But no matter how long I waited, no real Viscount Weatherwoods showed up. Hmm. Maybe my reaction was too bland.
I glanced at the Head Maid for advice, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Her face was utterly serious.
Thanks to that, I was dragged back to the harsh reality I’d been trying to escape.
The white egg neatly placed on the bed.
‘This egg is the real Viscount Weatherwoods.’
I straightened my back and faced the egg squarely.
This was my first meeting with the master as a maid, wasn’t it? I had to make a good impression.
I gently stroked the shell of the egg—no, of Viscount Weatherwoods—as I greeted him.
“Viscount.”
So smooth.
Of course, there was no reply. Only a soft thrum, like a heartbeat, echoed from inside the shell.
“How is it, Miss Daizy?”
How is it?
“Soft and fluffy. Nice and warm.”
The Head Maid, who had briefly looked startled, covered her mouth and burst into loud laughter.
It was the first time I’d seen her laugh so heartily, and it felt a bit awkward.
“You really are…….”
Ahem. She cleared her throat awkwardly and looked at the egg with eyes that seemed somewhat relieved.
“The first time I saw the current Viscount Weatherwoods was four years ago. He was smaller than an egg back then, but now he’s grown so much that I can barely hold him in my arms.”
Grown steadily for four years?
“It looks soft, and you can feel the heartbeat, but the shell itself is incredibly tough. Probably couldn’t pierce it with an ordinary sword.”
This egg… is really alive?
Watching my expression closely, the Head Maid whispered softly.
“Don’t doubt it, Miss Daizy. This is the egg the previous master entrusted to me directly, asking me to ‘take good care of my heir.’”
“Hmm.”
“Viscount Gray Weatherwoods is the previous master’s one and only heir. The previous master fell in the mage-demon war. He was a hero of humanity, a pillar of the empire, and the pride of our house. He devoted all his fortune for a full ten years. He gladly donated four estates to the supply corps and built orphanages across the empire for children who’d lost their parents and families. I remember he received a tremendous number of medals in his lifetime.”
As the Head Maid smiled faintly, her eyes distant with memories of the past, I slowly withdrew my hand from the egg.
‘The mage-demon war.’
This city of Midwintree was far removed from the southern frontlines, a place with little direct connection to the mage-demon war.
Wars are like that. They undoubtedly affect the entire land in subtle ways, but the disparity between regions is vast.
The citizens of Midwintree probably only truly felt the war through things like forced conscription.
In Midwintree’s landscape—solid and flawless like a completed puzzle—the scent of death was faint. There were no traces of collapsed buildings or crematoriums for the fallen.
That was why, ever since settling here, my past on the frontlines occasionally felt like a distant dream.
‘Did I ever cross paths with the previous Viscount Weatherwoods on the battlefield?’
I’d only heard the name Weatherwoods after coming to Midwintree, but it wasn’t impossible we’d met by chance during the war.
He was devoted enough to share his family’s wealth without hesitation, after all. I must have passed him at least once.
‘The mansion’s shabby interior makes sense now. There was a reason for it.’
Good people always leave too soon.
That much is an unchanging truth.
If the previous Viscount Weatherwoods had survived, he would have been revered as a hero with monumental achievements, elevating his house’s prestige. But death leaves only medals and honors behind.
And with his sole heir being not a person, but an ‘egg’……
“The previous master even married during the war. Isn’t that terribly romantic?”
The Head Maid’s gaze shifted to the wall opposite the bed.
As she approached the wall holding a lantern, a large portrait hidden in the shadows came into view.
“His partner was Enat Rosebell, the only daughter and heir of the Count Rosebell family. She passed away not long after he fell in battle, as if following him.”
The portrait depicted a man and woman standing together.
The blond pair was ordinary aside from their noticeably young age. Their fine fabrics and gentle expressions exuded the leisure unique to the upper class.
“When the current Count Rosebell passes, the title and fortune of the Rosebell family will all belong to our master.”
Count Rosebell was a name I knew as well. An old veteran who’d roamed the battlefields alongside Sword Saint Berkeley Grayton Duke.
‘He’s still going strong, then.’
Not that we were close, but just hearing he was alive lifted my spirits.
“In fact, a considerable portion has already been transferred to the Weatherwoods family. The previous viscount’s wife brought an enormous dowry. However, due to a premarital agreement, that dowry is completely locked away. No one can touch it right now—not even Viscount Weatherwoods, the legal heir.”
From the Weatherwoods family’s perspective, it was one disaster after another.
“And the assassins are after that fortune, no doubt. The current Weatherwoods family is plagued by all sorts of… creative and malicious rumors. Well, it’s only natural when the new heir of such a prestigious house shows no signs of activity.”
‘The previous viscount’s wife’s fortune.’
There are plenty of wealthy nobles in the world—not just that one woman. Would they send assassins multiple times just for some tied-up assets?
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
I didn’t say it to the Head Maid, but I doubted the assassins were solely after the fortune.
“Secrets I’m allowed to know?”
The Head Maid, who had been gazing up at the portrait, turned to look at me.
“After swearing oaths together, what’s there I can’t tell you? From now on, the one who needs to watch her mouth is you, Miss Daizy. It feels so refreshing to finally open up. You have no idea how hard it’s been keeping silent for four years.”
She turned her head and looked at the enormous egg on the bed.
Why was the previous Viscount Weatherwoods’s heir an egg?
Out of everything in the world, why an egg? And what was inside this egg?
If time passed and the egg hatched into a person, that would be fortunate enough. But if something else emerged……
‘No. Logically, that’s unlikely.’
It was far more plausible that the heir was being protected inside the eggshell.
The Viscount Weatherwoods couple must have cast a ‘protective barrier’ around their newborn heir out of concern for emergencies.
If the child could grow safely inside an unbreakable egg, there’d be no threats from greedy relatives eyeing the fortune.
In short, this egg was truly the Weatherwoods family’s heir.
“Is the Weatherwoods family secret too much for you?”
“Not really.”
“That’s a relief. I thought you’d be fine with it, Miss Daizy. You’re, um. Well. A bit… peculiar, aren’t you?”
“Rude phrasing.”
“Don’t take it too badly. Lu is even stranger than you.”
True enough.
“I like watching you live each day so diligently, Miss Daizy. I’m curious what drives you to live with such vigor. Care to share?”
It was an unexpectedly philosophical question.
‘My driving force? Is Dian Ket’s legacy the driving force of my life?’
No, it was my life’s goal, not exactly a driving force.
I wasn’t living for Dian Ket’s legacy.
Even without hope for healing my soul, I would have lived out the three years given to me fully. I couldn’t just end it all without a goal or drive, could I?
“Maybe there’s nothing at all?”
“Nothing particular comes to mind.”
“I see. That’s why I chose you.”
“…….”
“People like you, Miss Daizy, usually don’t betray others. The kind who aren’t interested in anyone else—or even themselves. It’s amusing when you think about it. Do they avoid betrayal simply because they lack interest?”
It felt like mockery for living thoughtlessly, but the Head Maid seemed to have her own firm standards for judging people.
As I stared at her silently, she gave an awkward smile and returned to the bedside to extinguish the lantern.
“Sorry. I must have overstepped rudely. Please forgive me generously. For some reason, I’ve been so talkative with you today. Well, it’s late—time to go.”
We left the bedroom and returned to the first floor.
The Head Maid seemed eager to finish her half-smoked cigarette and hurried past me through the kitchen to the back door. I followed her out to the mansion’s rear garden.
I had some chores to take care of.
“Oh, right. Them.”
Before she could even light her cigarette, I brushed past the Head Maid, who had paused, and hoisted the two bundles over my shoulders.
One of the assassins stirred and tried to wake, so I didn’t forget to give him another sharp rap on the head.
I lightly leaped over the wall, and the Head Maid asked urgently.
“What do you plan to do with them?”
I intended to hand them over to the butler assassin for now, and discuss the details with him.
Considering the unique nature of Eschla Mansion—Lu’s place across the street—stashing them there temporarily seemed best.
……Explaining all that would take too long, so I gave a curt, vague answer.
“Bury them.”
Leaving the pale-faced Head Maid behind, I hopped over to Eschla Mansion.
Fortunately—or perhaps inevitably—the butler assassin welcomed the two bundles. He was short on hands anyway.
A few days later.
I was sued for assault and intimidation after slapping Baron Pedegail, who claimed to be the previous master’s old friend.
