The banquet had concluded successfully.
The elegant decorations, far more refined than what one would expect from a northern gathering, and the tea culture gifts that seemed to be sparking a new trend—everything had left a lasting impression.
Every guest departed with a satisfied smile, their expressions brimming with delight.
The northern nobles, who had always been looked down upon, saw their guests off with prideful faces, their gazes filled with newfound respect for Lady Aslan, who had turned this neglected northern banquet into a leading trend.
“Phew.”
Letting the tension drain from her shoulders, Beatty let out a sigh of relief.
Since this was her first time organizing a banquet, she must have been more nervous than she realized.
“Let go of me! I... What do you think you're...!”
‘Huh?’
Just then, as the banquet hall was growing quieter with guests gradually leaving, a sudden commotion erupted from one corner of the room.
Though the distance made it difficult to hear clearly, Beatty found the voice somewhat familiar.
“Congratulations, Lady.”
At that moment, a figure suddenly blocked her view.
“Prince Aether?”
“I told you, call me Aether older brother.”
Aether, who had deliberately positioned himself to keep Beatty from looking toward the source of the noise, smiled brightly and changed the subject.
“Oh, right. Carl asked me to look after you.”
“Older brother did?”
It was a complete lie, but Aether didn’t mind in the slightest.
There were still things he needed to confirm in order to get a full picture of the situation.
“Come on, shall we step away for a moment?”
***
A Private Lounge for Conversations
In the lounge prepared for socializing, Beatty tilted her head in curiosity at Aether’s questions about her life in the capital.
‘Why would he ask about something like that?’
There was nothing particularly noteworthy about those days.
Though she found it odd, since he said her older brother had asked him to check on her, she answered him sincerely.
Aether, having subtly inquired whether there were any additional injustices beyond what he had already investigated, completed his assessment. Seeing the doubt still lingering in Beatty’s eyes as she answered, he chuckled.
“My lady, I’ve brought tea.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
As a maid entered with refreshments, Beatty turned to thank her, her expression brightening.
Watching her do so, Aether decided to distract her before she became too suspicious of his odd line of questioning.
“Now that I think about it, you even speak formally to the maids.”
It was an unusual sight among noble children, especially among the more arrogant aristocrats.
“You must be quite fond of them?”
He had recalled how Beatty had openly clashed with Viscount Siurus last time, all because of a maid named Johanna.
It wasn’t uncommon for noble children raised without their parents’ direct care to form strong attachments to their caretakers, much like a wet nurse.
Thinking Beatty might have a similar attachment, he had casually brought it up to shift the conversation.
“Fond of them?”
Her expression, as if not quite grasping his point, was not the reaction he had expected.
“Hm? Was that not the case? Ah, then is it just a habit?”
“A habit?”
As she tilted her head, her round, squirrel-like hair curls bobbed along with the movement.
Finding her actions irresistibly adorable, Aether's eyes softened as he spoke.
“Well, I suppose if you’re more comfortable speaking formally, that makes sense.”
She was still quite young.
Perhaps she simply wasn’t used to casual speech and mimicked the formal tone she often heard.
“Oh, but be careful at events like this banquet.”
Though he personally found it endearing, some unpleasant nobles might pick a fight over something trivial like this.
Of course, if anyone dared, he would crush them thoroughly—but avoiding such unpleasant encounters altogether would be preferable.
“There are some nasty nobles who might—ugh, I mean—who might spout nonsense about a noble lady using honorifics with her servants.”
Speaking gently, in words a child could easily understand, Aether paused when he saw Beatty blink at him, her dark eyes filled with confusion.
“Huh? But...”
Aether, who had been watching the way her pretty, night-sky-colored eyes fluttered, was slightly late to react to what she said next.
“If I don’t speak formally, won’t they get mad?”
“...What?”
Sensing that something was off, Aether stiffened.
“Who dares—”
His voice momentarily dropped into a chilling coldness.
But as Beatty flinched at the shift in atmosphere, he immediately switched to a gentle tone.
“...What do you mean, they’d get mad?”
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Summoning all his patience, he forcibly suppressed the burning rage within him, pretending to smile as he coaxed her.
“Could you tell me who said that to you?”
Despite his efforts, his feigned kindness did not work in the slightest.
“Is it someone in this mansion?”
As he continued his question, his gentle smile remained, but the murderous intent leaking from him was suffocating.
Beatty, sensing something was wrong, grew serious.
‘Did I make a mistake?’
Why had the prince’s previously normal expression suddenly changed?
Feeling confused, she cautiously answered in a careful tone.
“N-no, it wasn’t anyone from the ducal estate.”
“Then who?”
The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.
The way he asked, as if it were something everyone should know, made explaining it even more difficult.
“I mean... It’s just common sense, isn’t it?”
Beatty hesitated before digging through her old memories to recall the exact reason why she had to use formal speech.
“Well... if a kid who isn’t even a proper noble speaks informally to an adult, they’d get angry.”
In fact, she had softened the words a little.
The exact phrase she remembered was...
“How do you think I’d feel if some worthless brat spoke to me like an equal?”
‘...That’s exactly what was said.’
She still remembered it word for word.
Thinking back, it seemed that moment had been seared into her memory far more deeply than she had realized.
But to her, it wasn’t anything particularly special.
It had simply been an ordinary day in her childhood.
***
A Young Noble Girl Raised Alone in a Relative’s House, Without a Guardian
It quickly became apparent that the child had no one to protect her.
At first, the mistreatment was accidental. Then, it became deliberate.
The servants of the capital mansion soon realized that no matter what “mistake” they made toward this noble child, there would be no consequences.
Understanding this unspoken rule, they put it to use with cunning efficiency.
“Oh my, my lady. Do you really not know this?”
“Hm. Well, it can’t be helped. After all, she’s neither a proper noble nor a true beastkin...”
They spoke so she could hear them.
Once the mansion’s servants noticed that Pirina had no intention of showing Beatty even the slightest goodwill as her relative, they made it clear.
Tap. Tap.
Like tossing stones at an abandoned cub just to see how it would react, they threw words at Beatty for their own amusement.
‘It’s not like we’re hitting her with a cane or anything. Just words, that’s all.’
‘This is just teasing, nothing serious.’
As long as their actions didn’t leave visible marks, as long as it was just taunts and mockery—nothing would happen to them.
Having tested the waters and met no resistance, the servants grew bolder.
Despite being employed in a noble household—wearing fine uniforms, working in a grand mansion, envied by commoners—at the end of the day, they were treated no better than furniture, bowing their heads before aristocrats.
They stood closest to noble life, yet it was something they would never truly possess.
The more they were exposed to that unreachable world, the deeper their frustration grew.
And in their eyes, Beatty was...
“Oh my, my lady. Are you really a noble?”
A perfect outlet for their resentment.
She held the title of a duke’s daughter, yet had no power to punish them.
“I’ve never heard of such a pathetic noble lady before.”
“If you walked out onto the street right now, would anyone even recognize you? Whether you’re a noble or just some commoner—looking like that?”
A convenient target to vent their inferiority complex toward the nobility.
Snicker. Snicker.
Their crude laughter, filled with mean-spirited delight, trailed behind the small child.
Like children playing with a toy out of pure malice, the servants treated Beatty as nothing more than a source of entertainment.
“Hah? What did you just say?”
They expected her to respond—expected some spark of defiance.
But instead—
Gurgle.
Her stomach rumbled.
Unable to ignore her hunger, Beatty clenched her empty stomach.
“I... I didn’t receive my meal.”
“Didn’t receive it? Didn’t receive it?”
The maid, who had been repeating Beatty’s words in a mocking, exaggerated tone, suddenly scoffed—loudly, deliberately.
“Hah!”
Flinch.
Instinctively, Beatty’s shoulders tensed.
“You really haven’t learned a thing, have you?”
“What...?”
“You have to speak properly.”
Beatty blinked, confused by the unexpected remark.
“—But you’re just a maid.”
There was no deeper meaning behind her words.
She had simply never seen a noble use honorifics with a servant before.
No one had ever taught her otherwise.
“You little half-breed!”
“Ugh.”
But the words struck a nerve, and the maid overreacted.
Grabbing Beatty’s small wrist, she sneered as she watched the girl’s face twist in pain.
“Look at me. See how I speak? Even to a half-blood like you, I’m still speaking so properly and elegantly.”
It hurts.
Beatty’s gaze shifted to her wrist, throbbing from the sharp pain.
But the maid had no intention of letting go until she heard the answer she wanted.
“So? What should you be saying? Not ‘I didn’t receive my meal,’ but—”
Grit.
The pressure on the fragile child’s arm increased beyond what she could endure.