Chapter : 30
Children from noble families knew their place well—and were sharp for it. Instinctively, they could tell who was above and who was below them. They knew how to use their status to their advantage.
So the governesses had long since given up trying to discipline them. They simply followed behind the children like goldfish droppings trailing in water, believing that alone counted as doing their job.
But those sharp, clever children were now sitting perfectly still, not even breathing loudly. The governesses blinked repeatedly, staring at the scene in disbelief.
As if wondering what kind of magic that governess, Jacqueline Somerset, had used on them.
He was tired. Windsor pressed at his temples, tilting his head slightly. Then he rested his chin on the back of his hand and closed his eyes.
The nobles he had met after a long time were more childish than his six-year-old nephew. Like children showing off toys, they bragged about their money and their boats.
And yet none of them could bring themselves to say the simple words “let’s play together,” instead carefully reading each other’s expressions. Waiting for someone else to extend the invitation first.
Being among such a crowd was exhausting. Especially for Windsor, who valued efficiency and speed above all else.
He preferred straightforward conversation over subtle, hidden games of intent. Perhaps it was a habit formed from his time in the military, where he had grown used to precise orders.
“To attend such banquets every day… in some ways, they are truly remarkable people.”
Sarcasm slipped from between Windsor’s teeth. Just as he was glaring into the pitch-black darkness and rising from his seat to head to bed—
“……”
He heard faint footsteps. From the opposite corridor, they started softly, then gradually grew louder—before fading away again.
Windsor knew whose footsteps they were. Heavier than Benjamin’s, yet more graceful than a maid’s.
After staring into the darkness for a moment, he turned. As he descended the stairs, the sound of clattering came from the kitchen. He immediately headed toward it.
And as expected, there was a pale figure moving inside the kitchen.
“Isn’t this the kind of work you’re supposed to call a maid for?”
“Eek…!”
Startled by the sudden presence, Jacqueline screamed reflexively. Windsor strode forward and covered her mouth with his hand. The scream that escaped was forced back down her throat.
Gulp—she swallowed it.
Her eyes widened.
“Wha—mmph?!”
Warm breath brushed against his palm. The sensation tickled his hand and made his fingers curl slightly.
Windsor frowned faintly and withdrew his hand. Yet the strange sensation lingered, as if her breath still clung there.
Trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling, he quietly clenched his fist. Meanwhile, Jacqueline, finally relieved, spoke.
“I thought you’d be tired from cleaning up the banquet, so I didn’t want to wake someone who had just fallen asleep.”
“Is that so?”
“Is there anything you need, Lord Preston? Would you like some water?”
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Jacqueline, already familiar with the kitchen, placed a kettle on the stove and took out cups.
“According to Lord Preston’s perfect schedule, it’s already thirty minutes past bedtime, isn’t it?”
“Thirty-seven minutes, precisely.”
Jacqueline paused while setting the cups down. Then she let out a small laugh, as if amused by such a very Windsor-like answer.
As she reached for another cup, she said,
“I met some familiar faces after a long time, so I couldn’t sleep. Would you like some tea as well, Lord Preston?”
Familiar faces.
Windsor recalled the people from the banquet. And the murmurs they exchanged about Jacqueline.
She had likely been part of that crowd a few years ago. Probably someone who belonged there effortlessly, without ever feeling tired like he did.
What he had to strive for, she did as naturally as breathing. Suddenly, he felt the distance between them.
Without answering, Windsor pushed away from the wall and opened a cabinet, taking out a bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass.
“I prefer doing things with my own hands.”
“Oh, right. That’s true.”
Jacqueline replied while still busily moving. She opened a tea tin, inhaled the aroma, and measured out tea leaves. She poured boiling water into the teapot and set the cups.
“Did you come alone tonight?”
“Pardon?”
Jacqueline stopped and turned her head, not understanding. Windsor gestured toward her empty chest.
“I mean the teddy bear you sleep with when you’re afraid of being alone at night.”
“Oh.”
Only then did she burst into a bright laugh. A smile that seemed to drive away darkness. Windsor narrowed his eyes slightly.
Sometimes he wondered how she could laugh so freely. As if she poured all her strength into it—just like he poured everything into fighting enemies.
“Fortunately, I’m not alone tonight. I’ve made a new friend.”
He gave her a questioning look, but she ignored it and instead picked up her tray.
“If you’re scared of drinking alone, should I keep you company?”
“……”
Windsor frowned slightly.
Scared? Him?
He had never once felt fear. Not even in battles against pirates. Even on battlefields where bullets flew everywhere, he had never known fear.
His mind was always filled not with fear, but with calculations for victory and efficiency. Perhaps because he had nothing left behind him, he could be brave.
“Shall we go to the living room?”
She didn’t seem interested in waiting for his answer.
Placing the lamp on the tray, Jacqueline led the way. Windsor silently followed her, whiskey bottle in one hand and crystal glass in the other.
Only then did he click his tongue quietly.
There were moments like this—when he was instantly pulled into her pace. For someone so decisive, it was an unfamiliar feeling.
Usually, decisions belonged to him, not others.
Arriving at the living room, Jacqueline stepped aside as if it were natural. Windsor opened the door. She placed the lamp on the table and skillfully brewed tea on the sofa.
“You worked hard.”
After sipping her tea, Jacqueline finally spoke with a sigh. Windsor raised an eyebrow slightly while drinking his whiskey.
“Perfect from beginning to end.”
“From beginning to end? I don’t recall you observing me eat.”
“My memory is, as always, unmatched.”
Jacqueline responded primly, then added in a softer voice,
“Still, no one spoke ill of you. Well… not entirely true, but at least not about your table manners. So I’d say it was a success.”
“Not entirely true.”
Windsor repeated her words quietly. Jacqueline lifted her tea quickly.
If the king had been there, he would’ve heard the same gossip. Those who loved talking never discriminated—they only changed volume.
In that sense, tonight’s banquet had gone rather well.
“It’s thanks to my excellent governess.”
“I can hardly deny that.”
Jacqueline lifted her shoulders proudly. A faint laugh escaped Windsor’s lips. Jacqueline blinked, but the laughter had already disappeared like smoke.
And at that moment, Windsor realized his headache had vanished completely.
He didn’t know whether it was from talking with her or the alcohol flowing through his veins. But he did know he felt better than before.
As if remembering something, he turned to her.
“Come to think of it, the children were quite noisy on their way back. What happened on the second floor?”
“Hmm…”
Jacqueline brought her teacup to her lips slowly, as if buying time.
She remembered the children who had followed her like ducklings all evening.
Even at dismissal time, twelve pairs of eyes had still been bright and alert. No sign of fatigue at all.
At the end, they had nervously counted their candies, stealing glances at each other’s hands.
The one who collected the most was a boy with missing front teeth—Justin.
—“I won first place!”
—“No way! Oh my god!”
—“I’m jealous.”
The disappointed children looked either upset or envious. Justin proudly stepped forward and held out his hands to Jacqueline.
—“Now give me the prize!”
—“Alright.”
Jacqueline nodded and went somewhere. Benjamin followed her with tense eyes, then suddenly widened them.
She returned with a red velvet box. Benjamin, knowing what was inside, made a strange expression.
—“This is one of Benjamin’s treasures.”
—“A treasure…”
Justin accepted the box with excitement. Even the luxurious velvet felt significant. The other children crowded around.
—“What is it?”
—“Open it! Hurry!”
—“Okay.”
Gulping, Justin opened the lid dramatically. Benjamin called out, “Miss Somerset!”
—“Ah… sorry, Benjamin. I didn’t ask your permission before using it as a prize. But I’ll get another one tomorrow.”
It wasn’t what she meant, but Benjamin nodded obediently.
The boy finally opened the box and froze.
—“What… is this?”
—“Move, what is it?”
Oakley pushed through the crowd and peered inside, then looked at Jacqueline in confusion.
She lifted her chin slightly, as if proud.
—“How is it? Cool, right?”
She then lowered her voice, glancing toward the governesses.
—“Better not let the adults see. They might take it.”
—“Wow!!”
Justin jumped in place, eyes sparkling. The others looked at him with envy.
—“It’s… a cicada shell!”
—“Shh! Don’t let the governess hear!”
—“Oh, right!”
—“It’s so cool. I want one too.”
A girl who had finished her candy was about to reach in but got caught. Justin quickly closed the box and hugged it.
—“It’s mine!”
—“Tch.”
Justin looked triumphant, like a victorious general.
Benjamin tilted his head, unable to understand why they were so excited over something like a cicada shell.
There were probably plenty of those in their own gardens too.
“…Ah.”