A Squirrel Will Raise the Tiger Cub
Sometimes, thoughts tumble straight out of one’s mouth without passing through the brain.
A free carriage ride on top of that?
There was simply no way to refuse.
Why ban dialects? The condition struck me as somewhat peculiar, but I decided to give it a shot anyway.
Ugh. The embarrassment was always mine to bear.
Viscount Lund’s teasing laughter echoed through the hall.
***
I gasped.
The next day, upon stepping into the reception hall of the Blantiger ducal castle, I clamped a hand over my mouth.
The sheer allure of fifty gold….
Despite the daunting, oppressive air of the ducal estate, dozens of noble young ladies had gathered to interview for the tutor position.
Stuck in the crowd among ladies dressed to the nines, I shrank back a little, feeling rather intimidated.
Viscount Lund gave an uninspired pump of his fist before slipping deeper into the castle to attend to his business.
Just then.
Though it was broad daylight, a strange, luminous glow began to emanate from the front doors.
Was I imagining things?
A flash of golden light had flickered for just an instant.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The young ladies behind me began murmuring amongst themselves.
Upon the dais stood a towering figure.
He possessed pitch-black hair, fair and flawless skin, and bold, straight brows over piercing golden eyes that gleamed with sharp intensity.
A straight, sculpted nose, a pronounced philtrum, and faintly crimson lips completed his striking visage.
‘Is he a man or a sculpture? How can a person look so majestic?’
With furs draped across his already broad shoulders, his imposing frame looked even more massive.
He was so remarkably tall that as I stared, bewitched, craning my neck higher and higher, I nearly lost my balance and tumbled backward.
‘Is that… the one they call the Northern King…?’
Without question. Never in the capital had I encountered anyone radiating such a staggering aura.
Even when I caught sight of His Imperial Majesty at the New Year’s festival, I had felt no such blinding presence.
Around me, every single young lady was sighing in admiration.
I found myself nodding along in agreement.
The young lady standing right beside me failed to keep her awe to herself, blurting it aloud.
From those blushing crimson to those whispering hushed expletives of sheer disbelief, everyone shared the very same sentiment.
Beside the duke, who seemed to shine with his own innate brilliance, stood a distinguished middle-aged man with silver hair.
Stepping forward, he addressed the room.
His slender, impeccably kept frame inclined in a slight bow, every movement defined by crisp precision.
True to a feline lineage, without a doubt.
When the sharp-featured butler finished his greeting and surveyed the assembly, the ambient whispering died away in an instant.
Maurice extended an arm toward the imposing man behind him, drawing every eye in unison.
As those golden eyes swept over the room, jaws went slack wherever his gaze fell.
A chilling, overwhelming pressure seemed to bleed outward from his stare.
Indifferent to the stares fixed upon him, he offered no greeting of his own, merely urging Maurice along.
With a slight dip of his head, Maurice turned back toward the gathered candidates.
Maurice paused, his gaze sweeping across the room.
With every eye fixed on his face, a heavy hush descended upon the air.
Danger.
Even without being told, every lady gathered here had likely gathered as much from the dense, predatory pheromones saturating the castle air.
Even so, nobody could know the specifics—how dangerous it would truly be, or how one was meant to prepare.
Just how perilous was this going to be?
At the mention of possible injury, anxious murmurs rippled through the room.
The House of Blan was a grand ducal family bearing imperial blood.
Defaming them would be equated with treason against the imperial house itself, carrying the maximum penalty.
In a flash, the vivid image of a neck severed clean beneath a guillotine flickered through my mind.
I tried desperately to conceal the goosebumps prickling across my arms.
Worried voices broke out from every corner.
I, too, found myself agonizing just like the other ladies.
Naturally, fifty gold and the promise of performance bonuses sounded marvelous, but there was no telling what deadly hazards lay in wait.
The lady beside me, who had been swooning over the duke’s looks just moments before, shot to her feet and spoke.
Following her lead, several ladies abandoned the interview and headed toward the exit.
Watching far more women turn back than I had anticipated, the dread inside me swelled.
Maurice’s voice cut cleanly through the fleeting commotion of departing candidates and parting words.
When he paused to let the moment settle, all movement and noise froze, as though time itself had ground to a halt.
Only about ten of us remained.
In solemn silence, everyone fell into line and began to walk.
I had just begun moving among the other ladies when the call came.
Every head snapped toward the deep, resonant voice.
Those piercing golden eyes were fixed straight on me.
“Are you truly the daughter of a noble family?”
The moment the question fell, all the ladies turned to look at me.
I could feel unpleasant stares clinging to me, sweeping from head to toe.
I tilted my head, asking just to be sure.
Instead of answering me, the Northern Archduke addressed his butler instead.
Was he implying he refused to even speak with someone who wasn’t nobility?
Clearly, he had taken one look at my worn clothes and assumed I was a commoner or a maid.
A hot flush of humiliation bloomed across my cheeks.
I clenched my fists tight.
To Maurice’s composed reply, the duke offered only a curt nod.
Normally, wouldn’t someone offer a ‘Forgive me,’ or ‘My mistake,’ or at the very least an ‘I misunderstood’?
Unable to vent my temper, I simply glared, staring him down with wide eyes.
Yet the high-and-mighty Northern King merely arched an eyebrow in return.
His look clearly asked, ‘What are you doing standing there instead of moving?’
Letting out a heavy sigh, I had no choice but to turn away.
‘Just you wait. I will buy myself a dress with your money if it’s the last thing I do!’
Fueled by sheer determination to secure the position, I marched forward.
