Youngest 049

“I have an umbrella, though. I just bought one the other day.”

“Pwahaha! That’s wonderful too!”

Grandfather burst into hearty laughter and patted me on the head.

“Then make that rascal be your lackey! Whenever there’s danger, tell him to do it instead!”

I tried to figure out what he meant, but in the end could only smile. Grandfather, unable to help himself, rubbed his face all over my cheek.

“It—It tickles!”

Bombarded by his beard, a sudden thought came to me.

“Hey, Grandfather.”

“Yeah?”

“If names and titles matter so much, why do you call me ‘little snot’?”

His thick brows shot up. As I said it, a strange sense of injustice crept up on me.

“‘Little snot’ is dirty! And lowly!”

Grandfather answered carelessly, off the top of his head.

“But it rolls right off the tongue. And it’s cute.”

“Ugh.”

Wasn’t this the same man who spoke so earnestly about the importance of names and relationships?

How is that credible at all!

I’m going to ask Borvel to teach me how to make the most bitter medicine in the world!

With a shout, Rubian marched off.

Balok, watching her small figure scurrying across the lobby, scratched his head.

“…Did I do it wrong?”

Then Morris, who was standing at one side of the lobby, approached.

“I thought, for once, those were actually words worthy of a grandfather.”

Balok’s huge shoulders slumped. The old nobleman’s butler spoke with cold precision.

“Did you say what I advised, sir?”

“I think it was close.”

“Then you should have come across as a warm and affectionate grandfather, more or less. How odd.”

“You’re right, aren’t you?”

The two, master and servant, cocked their heads in unison. Balok’s brow furrowed deeper than ever.

“This is all Leviathan’s fault for making a mess of things, isn’t it?!”

Wham! Unable to hold his frustration any longer, Balok slammed his fist against the door. Crack—the thick door split as if it were nothing.

“What if Ruby refuses even the Zevert name…”

Whine. His face, which was burning in anger, quickly wilted.

Morris, anxious for the old marquis, tried to console him.

“If it comes to that, why don’t we bring Miss Rubian to stay at our annex?”

“Huh?”

“After all, you’re ‘grandfather’ to her, sir. In terms of titles, you’re even closer.”

“Oh-ho.”

Seeing the sly smile spread on the butler’s face, the old marquis grinned darkly as well.

“That’s right… Then, I’ll just have to take care of her myself, since I’m called ‘grandfather’ after all… Mm, solved!”

What on earth is solved, exactly?

The staff listening nearby felt a sudden flush of frustration.

On my way back to my room, I ran into Mister in the corridor.

“Ah!”

Hey, Mister! The weather’s amazing today. I ran three and a half laps of the training ground. My stamina is growing as fast as the swords and Void’s height…

But all of those words got condensed into a single, insignificant exclamation.

As I stood there, stiff as a statue, Mister came over and crouched down to my level.

“Why does your face look like a burst pudding again?”

“I’m not a pudding… Sorry…”

I muttered gloomily, and Mister gently stroked my hair.

“You don’t have to call me anything.”

“Huh?”

“Call me when you feel like it, Ruby. I’ll wait. And don’t apologize for it, either.”

“Uu…”

For some reason, my heart ached.

As I watched those kind eyes, my lips just moved soundlessly. Mister gave a faint smile.

“But what if you want to call me?”

“Um.”

Glancing around, he walked over to the wall and untied the ornamental cord from the curtain. There was a small bell in the shape of a gold chime hanging from its end.

“You can just ring this.”

“You’re saying… to summon the duke with a bell?”

“To call me by ringing the bell. Ordering me around with it is going a bit far.”

Gulp—I quickly shut my mouth.

A small gold bell, placed in my hand. When I gave it a little shake, it let out a pure, tinkling sound.

“Like this?”

“Right. If you want to call me, just ring it. I’ll understand.”

Does Mister think I’m a cat? Or does he want to be a cat himself?

Jingle-jingle-jingle-jingle.

I shook the bell madly.

“Yes?”

He replied, responding with perfect composure; seeing his face, I suddenly grew emotional. I beat his solid shoulder with my fists and shouted,

“I rang four times, so why did you answer just once!”

Jeez, this just won’t do!

---

By the time the sunset cast its long glow across the sky.

I slipped out of the manor in secret. It was the same path as when I’d once chased after Khalid’s squirrel.

“Whew, this is tough.”

Once again, I found myself at the Zevert memorial.

‘Strangely, I just kept thinking about this place.’

Borvel said it was a problem of the heart. It felt like I needed to pour these feelings out somewhere.

I’d almost instinctively reached for my earlobe, then caught myself.

‘Khalid… doesn’t have parents.’

He’d said he didn’t even have memories of them.

‘What if I hurt his feelings?’

And he’d probably just matter-of-factly say, “Just ring the bell. What’s the problem if it’s fine by me?”

‘Or Grandfather?’

After our earlier conversation… Pass.

‘Hazel?’

But Hazel hadn’t been seen all morning. She must be busy. Pass.

‘Or Void?’

Just, pass.

‘No one…’

In the end, I’d come here.

The nameless grave.

“…”

I crept carefully, not wanting the gravekeeper to catch me, and eased open the white gate.

The memorial was at the most secluded spot within Zevert Manor.

And in its deepest part stood the grave of the nameless child.

It was a place imbued with a powerful will, as if to allow no further storms, no more pain.

“Oh, this is all I have to offer.”

When I saw the flowers beneath the gravestone, it dawned on me.

Without thinking, I took the pin from my hair and placed it down.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was yours, wasn’t it?”

In truth, I’d heard a little from Hazel about where the pin had originally come from.

“I don’t really know why I came here either… I just wanted to.”

Words spilled from me unbidden.

It was strange. How could I feel such tranquility in a place I’d never been before?

There was no name on the black gravestone. Only the surname ‘Zevert’ stood alone.

“I don’t have a surname, but you don’t have a first name.”

Heh. That’s a little odd.

The wind blew. I stared at the word ‘Zevert’ until my head drooped.

“Hey. Do you know why I’m like this?”

Of course, no reply could come.

“Or, actually, more than that…”

Yes.

There was something I’d wanted to ask this grave all along.

“So… is it really all right if I borrow it? That name… Just for a little while—I’ll return it later.”

I wondered if I was truly qualified.

To be honest, I was starting to regret having agreed so readily when Mister said I could really become the youngest here.

‘Maybe I rushed into something far bigger than I realized.’

All I’d wanted was to prevent the original story’s end; I’d said yes to becoming a child of this house without much thought.

But now that I’d experienced Zevert for myself and found it far warmer and kinder than I’d imagined… I’d suddenly grown afraid.

‘I thought, once I achieved my goal, I’d leave without regrets.’

But what if I get even closer to Mister? Will I be able to leave?

What if we become real family?

‘I’m just a liar, though…’

That question remained, a stain inside me.

Just then, a leaf came twirling through the air and landed gently on my head. I brushed it away and gave a small laugh.

“I can’t tell if that’s permission or a refusal.”

Through the narrow slit of my gaze, I could see a dead leaf resting atop the gravestone. I reached out to flick it away without thinking.

“Hm?”

A strange sense of discord tingled at my fingertips. Instinctively, I bent down and placed both hands on the earth.

‘Was I imagining things?’

I’d thought I’d felt magic… but pressing my palms to the ground revealed nothing. Maybe I’d misread the surrounding energy.

‘Still, it’s common for all sorts of spirits to gather at graves…’

A chill crawled up my arms. I was about to rub my arms and stand when—

“Who’s there?”

“…!”

A strange voice shot through me like an arrow from behind.

Too startled to control myself, I plopped right down on the spot.

When I looked back, I saw the gravekeeper with her chestnut hair tied back, the sleeves of her gray robe rolled up.

“Wh—What a fright…”

Cold sweat trickled down my neck.

‘I thought it was a ghost…’

A woman’s voice at a grave, right as I realized where I was!

“The memorial is closed at this hour, you know.”

“Yes. I’ll leave right now…”

I tried to push myself up, but slipped right back down. My body must have gone all limp from shock.

“Oh my.”

The gravekeeper approached, surprised. She set down her sickle and the handfuls of weeds and came to help me up.

“I didn’t mean you had to rush. I’d better fetch someone.”

“No, I… I’m fi—fine…”

Maybe I was too startled. The words I always said out of habit—‘I’m fine’—stuck in my throat.

I had to assure her I was all right.

And hurry to escape.

But, as always, my body betrayed me, and instead—

“I’m… not fine. Uuuaaaaah.”

I burst into tears—at the most ridiculous moment.