The next morning, we all had breakfast together in the inn’s dining room.
Myself still in disguise, Anastasia, Lord Cyrus, Lord Rui Feng, Mio, Wolfgang, my younger brother, and my parents.
I watched each of them, moving away and getting closer, all the while.
"What is this tea! It’s hot!"
My father yelled at the serving girl.
"Yes, sir, it’s freshly brewed—"
"I know that. It’s almost summer, can’t you be considerate enough to serve iced tea?"
"Huh? But everyone ordered hot—"
"Don’t make excuses, you’re a businessman! Give me my money back!"
"The bill is being paid by the Granado family, though."
Mio, who had stacked pancakes almost to the ceiling, muttered.
Lord Cyrus spoke to the serving girl.
"I apologize for my companion’s rude words. Can we order a cold drink?"
"Please allow me a moment, I will fetch ice from the ice room."
"Thank you. Baron, what do you think?"
When asked, my father turned away and sipped his teacup, exclaiming, "Hot!"
After breakfast, we got into the carriage. We were about to board in the same arrangement as yesterday, but suddenly, my father started yelling.
"Elvira, why are you getting in first!"
My mother looked bewildered. It seemed she had been yelled at for no reason. Still, she first apologized and then asked her husband what she had done wrong.
My father, after a moment of being speechless, said,
"Don’t you know I get carsick easily? You should have given me the window seat. You’re a thoughtless woman."
"Oh... I see. I’m sorry."
My mother got out of the carriage and let my father take the back seat. I reached across my father and opened the window.
"I’ve never heard that you get carsick easily. Why didn’t you ask me to open the window yesterday?"
"A... Ah..."
My father, without saying "I’m sorry" or "Thank you for opening it," just lowered his head.
The road ahead was a bit rough, and even the war carriage shook. Lord Cyrus asked my father several times if he needed a break. My father didn’t answer either way and barely responded.
Just before noon—my mother turned pale and groaned. Lord Cyrus immediately noticed and signaled Mio.
As soon as we got out of the carriage, my mother vomited on the ground. I handed her a handkerchief, and she bowed while coughing.
"I’m sorry... I’ve always been bad with carriages..."
At that moment, my mother looked extremely sad.
"What should we do? I’ve dirtied your handkerchief. It’s such beautiful lace."
"Don’t worry about it. Is there anything else you want?"
"Then, a glass of water... Thank you. You’re so kind, even though you’re a man."
"---Move!"
My father jumped out of the carriage, almost stepping on my mother, and ran into the bushes. Lord Cyrus, determined not to let him escape, chased after him. ...After a while, they returned together. Lord Cyrus was smiling wryly and shrugged.
"Both of you, if you need to go, just say so, whether it’s up or down."
"...I’m sorry. Thank you."
My mother bowed deeply. Next to her, my father was awkwardly silent, his head lowered.
After a slightly early lunch break, my mother and Anastasia switched carriages. The Granado castle carriage was wider and had better cushions, so it was more considerate for my mother, who gets carsick.
As soon as she suggested it, Anastasia immediately said, "No way."
"I’ve been watching you, Father, and you’re really rude to ‘subordinates,’ aren’t you? As a ‘servant boy,’ I’d be harassed for hours in the same carriage. I’d hit you."
"Y-Yes. Then... how about this?"
I whispered to my sister and Lord Cyrus.
When the ‘servant boy’ got in the same carriage, as expected, my father was in a good mood. His words were shouts, but his expression was sunny. He scolded the boy for not being considerate enough, saying he must have been born into a poor family and didn’t know how to serve properly.
After listening to this for about five minutes, the ‘Arthur boy’ smiled.
"What did you just say, sir? I’m an immigrant. I don’t understand the kingdom language well."
"Huh?"
To my father’s bewildered face, he started speaking in fluent Ipsandros.
"So, my ears are clogged with too much ear hair? You should remove it and plant it on your head, it’s a two-for-one deal."
Unable to hold it in, Lord Cyrus and I burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the content but the terrible pronunciation that was hilarious. After all, my sister hadn’t used Ipsandros in over ten years, and her only material was that tattered red cat story. Whether it was mimicking the foul-mouthed cat or her original vocabulary... it was a halting but delightfully sharp-tongued performance. And my father, who was being spoken to, just looked bewildered.
"Hey, Father, listen up. I’m going to spill everything I’ve been thinking. Your fashion sense is bad, isn’t it? No baron wears such old-fashioned noble clothes these days. You’re behind the times."
I exchanged a glance with Lord Cyrus. We spoke in Ipsandros.
"Father doesn’t seem to understand Ipsandros, does he?"
"Yes. But Ipsandros is a minor language. Since the baron considers Ipsandros barbarians and is not a businessman, he wouldn’t know it unless he was very well-educated. The problem is Banderian, the language of the many immigrants in the Shadaran territory, and Flarian, the official language of the nobility..."
At that moment, Lord Cyrus’s eyes gleamed mischievously. He looked at my father, who was staring out the window with a frown, and said in Banderian,
"Baron. If you apologize now, I’ll let you go home."
My father... didn’t even turn around. He didn’t even realize he was being spoken to. Lord Cyrus then said the same in Flarian and the language of the eastern continent, Shina. He lined up sweet words that my father would surely bite on if he heard them.
Still, my father didn’t react... not even once, not even a single word. He probably didn’t even notice the language had changed.
"...It’s confirmed."
Lord Cyrus whispered. I nodded and sighed.
I had a vague suspicion that my father couldn’t speak a single foreign language.
My father can write, after all. He wrote letters to me and invitations to my birthday and Anastasia’s debut party himself.
The letters and documents I wrote on his behalf were all to various nobles and embassies... or to foreign workers. In other words, to foreigners.
As a post-war noble and a lord, my father couldn’t communicate with them.
"He can’t do the lord’s job. And this is probably the reason he didn’t come to the engagement ceremony. As the father of the bride, he can’t ignore the congratulations from the important people of various countries."
That’s right. But there’s one more thing to confirm.
I spoke to my father in the kingdom language.
"---Shadaran Baron. Shall I translate for you? You can’t speak Ipsandros, can you?"
My father glared at me, deep wrinkles on his forehead, and screamed, spitting.
"Who said I can’t speak the language? I just don’t like foreigners! It’s none of your business, don’t make fun of me!"
"...I apologize."
I nodded and sat back down.
"Really, everyone...!"
After that, my father never spoke to anyone again.
---In the end, my father never said he felt unwell. Only my mother stopped the carriage several times to take breaks.
As a result, we had to spend another night just before the capital. This time, we stayed at a larger inn, so everyone got their own room. My father and the others were still confined to the same room.
When I was finally able to relax in my room... there was a knock. Just before I opened the door, Mio’s voice.
"Mrs. Shadaran wants to speak with you, Madie."
I quickly put on my wig and changed into my male attire. When I opened the door, my mother was indeed there, looking solemn but smiling when she saw me.
"You’re still wearing your mantle and hat in your room?"
"Yes, it’s a knight’s custom."
After all, I can’t be found out! I adjusted my hat, making the brim even lower. Suddenly, my mother grabbed my wrist. She let go immediately, but I was startled.
"Oh, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. It’s a shame to hide such beautiful golden hair."
"...What did you want to talk about, madam?"
"It’s not much, I just wanted to give you this."
She handed me a handkerchief... no, a different one with the same color. It was a simple white cotton, not particularly high-quality, but it was clean and new.
"I’m sorry, I should have bought a new one to return, but I don’t have money on this trip... I made this, but it’s still new."
"Did you make this, madam?"
When I asked, my mother smiled wryly.
"Noblewomen are supposed to do lace, but the baron’s family is poor, and I was originally a farmer’s daughter. I wasn’t very helpful, but sewing was my only skill."
"...I see. I didn’t know."
I took the handkerchief my mother had sewn and bowed. When I straightened up, my mother was bowing much deeper than I was.
"I’m sorry. My husband is always so rude."
"...No, it’s fine."
"He’s not just cold. ...He welcomed me into the baron’s family despite having nothing to offer. He even fought with Lady Sasha—"
"Grandmother opposed the marriage!?"
I almost shouted in my normal voice. My mother looked surprised for a moment but didn’t seem to realize my true identity. She nodded.
"‘The Heroine Sasha’ was the ideal woman that every village girl of our generation aspired to. I married Gregor to be like her.
Sasha must have seen through my cunning plan. She scolded my husband fiercely, telling him to marry a more intelligent and cultured woman. ...That caused a rift between them, and I was disliked, but... I love my husband deeply for protecting me. ...I want to meet his expectations as much as possible—"