46: How to Use ‘Freedom of Action’
Waiting for me in the white marble entrance hall when I returned home that afternoon were Leticia and the plump, elderly, red-haired maid. Now that I thought about it, she was the one I’d tasked with looking after Leticia when I first assigned her to the attic room.
“Welcome home, Elder Sister!”
Leticia greeting me upon my return wasn’t new.
While I was always happy about it, I didn’t understand what my sister gained from it.
――However, today was different.
“…Leticia, what are you wearing?”
I put on a stern expression.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I used every ounce of my willpower to suppress the urge to grin.
“Oh, this? I didn’t want to get my usual clothes dirty, so I borrowed this.”
A simple black dress.
A white apron dress with frills at the shoulders.
A white maid’s cap perched neatly on her head.
It was the Vanderwaals maid uniform—in other words, a maid outfit.
Modest yet neat, and, according to the younger maids, a bit plain.
However, it was a universally flattering design, suitable even for older maids like the plump, red-haired one currently standing behind Leticia.
On my sister, it had enough destructive power to crush my heart.
“…Dirty? Why would you…”
“――Since you gave me ‘freedom of action,’ I wanted to do something for Elder Sister.”
Leticia smiled, and I noticed the package she was holding to her chest. Wrapped in white cloth and tied with a pink ribbon… what was it?
“I used the kitchen and baked cookies. At the bakery I worked at, we also made and sold sweets, so I learned how to make them…”
This was an unexpected way to use her ‘freedom.’
My sister, looking up at me with her head tilted slightly, offered me the package of cookies.
“…Will you… accept them?”
It felt like a confession.
That thought sprang to mind unbidden.
Her adorableness was overwhelming, like a scene from a romance.
Her slightly teary eyes, her nervous expression, all were devastatingly cute.
I could almost see flower petals scattering around her, a message window popping up despite my non-protagonist status.
――As expected of the protagonist. She would charm the men who held the future of our nation in their hands, wrapping them around her little finger.
…But how should I respond?
I didn’t know about this event.
This…
…this ‘close sisters’ kind of event.
This…
“…Well, as they say, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’”
I deliberately chose a proverb that discouraged scrutiny or complaints about a gift, implying that I wasn’t particularly impressed.
Even so, when I took the package, Leticia’s anxious expression transformed into a bright, blooming smile.
Inwardly, I was so elated by my sister’s unexpected gift that I wanted to ask her for a dance right then and there.
But if I did, I would probably just make her dizzy again.
Perhaps my love was too heavy.
“—However, refrain from appearing in public dressed as a servant in the future.”
Nobles had a certain standard of decorum to uphold.
Servants and nobles were ‘different.’
No.
They had to be different.
Even if, in reality, there was no such difference.
We had to draw a line, make it visible.
“Yes…”
Leticia’s face fell.
It was only natural for her to be dejected if her gift was received without enthusiasm and even met with a reprimand.
What a horrible person I was. I deserved to be executed.
Leaving that for my future self to deal with, I raised my hand to comfort my dejected sister.
Just then, the elderly maid, who had been standing behind us, stepped forward protectively.
“Hey now! There’s no need to raise your hand at her for something like this!”
…She misunderstood.
I sighed and tried to explain—but the words caught in my throat.
What should I say? …“I was just going to pat her head to comfort her because she looked sad.” …?
That wouldn’t work, would it?
Seriously.
That wasn’t ‘behavior befitting a villainous sister.’
What was I thinking a moment ago?
Why did I reach out my hand?
I, the ‘villainous sister,’ had no right to do such a thing.
I raised my hand higher and swatted the maid’s cap off Leticia’s head.
“Ow…”
Leticia clutched her head.
The pin that had secured the cap to her hair clattered against the marble floor.
Seeing a single strand of blonde hair caught on the pin made my heart ache.
My sister had been hurt—I had hurt her.
In such a trivial moment, not even part of an [Official Event].
Even if it was just a single strand of hair.
I had hurt her.
“You…!”
“This is a Vanderwaals family matter. How do you intend to conduct yourself after I’m gone if you can’t even maintain proper decorum?!”
I slapped away her hand, which had reached out to grab my arm, and glared at her.
Leticia, smoothing her hair, murmured,
“…After you’re gone…?”
…Oops.
I misspoke.
“…What do you mean? You have no future in this house. —It is out of sisterly affection, even if we are half-sisters, and a noble’s duty. I am responsible for your education until you are married off to a suitable family.”
While my sister was presentable enough to be introduced to any family, this dilemma of wanting to keep her all to myself because she was too precious…
“…You intend to use your sister as a political pawn?”
“Stay out of this, Bella. You and I see things differently.”
The plump, elderly, red-haired maid—Bella—stared at me, wide-eyed.
“My name…?”
“I know the names of the servants employed in this house.”
Of course, it wasn’t out of any affection for the servants; it was simply a necessary precaution for the head of a family with secrets, who could only employ those with verifiable backgrounds.
It would be dangerous not to know the names, faces—and physiques, gaits, manners, speech patterns, and family structures—of the servants.
I silenced Bella, who seemed about to speak, with a cold glare.
She was one of the most senior maids. She was well-liked for her plump figure and kind, compassionate nature.
She was one of the reasons our family, despite being known as the “Coldhearted Vanderwaals,” had a relatively high servant retention rate. She was a valuable asset.
――I could even say I trusted her. At least enough to entrust her with the care of my sister, who was likely anxious in her unfamiliar surroundings.
However, she and I saw the world differently.
She had a close, loving family: a skilled craftsman husband, who would sometimes complain but also subtly brag about her, and grown children with families of their own. Since she lived nearby and commuted, I had seen them.
They sat around a large table, the curtains open to let in the sunlight, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
It was a picture-perfect scene of the peace and tranquility of Eustasia that I had sworn to protect.
Something I didn’t have.
“All nobles are political tools.”
Both Leticia and I were merely tools, cogs in the machinery of fate.
Like parts that moved the pocket watch I always carried in my breast pocket.
Even so, my sister had been given a good ‘role.’
I looked at Leticia and murmured,
“…Duty… and loyalty.”
My sister didn’t respond.
She simply stared at me, silently.
“You have… more important things to do than ‘this.’ You carry the Vanderwaals blood, after all.”
I abruptly turned away and headed towards my room.
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