SWS CH 07

Chapter 07

“Young Master?”

It was the moment Carlos finally recognized Docep.

The instant their eyes met, Docep bolted out of the yard and started running.

Carlos chased after him.

“Young Master!!”

He kept running, shouting as he went.

Docep darted through the winding alleys, quickly disappearing from view.

Unlike the Docep, who usually wore his hair neatly tied back, the man before him had shaggy, unkempt hair.

But Carlos had served him since he was very young.

There was no way he could mistake him.

“Young Master Docep!”

Even when his name was called, Docep never once turned back.

And his pace was unbelievably fast.

“Ghk…!”

Carlos pretended to stumble and fall, but instead of stopping, Docep took the chance to vanish into the darkness.

“Judging by how cold he was, that’s definitely our young master.”

The moment Carlos accepted that it really was Docep, despair set in.

“This is bad. This is really bad.”

A hoarse voice slipped from his lips.

This was the worst possible outcome.

Halara was pregnant.

She had even put up a sign banning men from entering her house because of the baby.

And yet, the one man who still went in and out of that house—

was Young Master Docep.

Worse still, that straight-laced young master had even changed into commoner clothes to avoid being recognized—

and was peeling potatoes in her house.

‘Is Young Master Docep really… the father?’

Was Halara truly carrying Docep’s child?

If so, would a young master with commoner blood be born into the family?

And not through proper marriage, but between an unmarried man and woman.

And the man in question was a young master infamous for being nothing but a brute.

‘Ah…’

The household would fall into complete chaos.

Carlos stood there for a long time, lost in despair.

By the time the sun set and night fell, he finally returned to the Bloodymary estate.

The next day, the same worries still weighed on him.

‘How am I supposed to report this?’

She might collapse.

And if that happens, what will become of Bloodymary …?

And my own fate …?

“Los.”

My head—clean off…!

“Carlos!”

Or boiled alive in hot oil …!

“Head Butler!”

“P-Please spare my life!”

Lost in horrific fantasies, Carlos collapsed to the floor and curled up.

Eyes squeezed shut in terror, he heard a woman’s voice.

“What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been like this all day.”

The voice he wanted to avoid most.

The voice of death itself.

He cracked one eye open.

Francesca’s red nails were approaching him.

Overwhelmed by his own imagination, Carlos blurted out something he shouldn’t have.

“My lady, if you think about it, this isn’t entirely my fault, is it?!”

“What? What are you talking about—did something happen again?”

His eyes were already half-crazed.

“W-What exactly did I do wrong? If we’re being fair, isn’t it your son who made the mistake?”

Like a cornered mouse baring its teeth at a cat.

“What kind of insolent nonsense is that? Explain yourself properly.”

“I-I-I-I mean Young Master Docep!”

Driven by fear, Carlos blurted it out.

At this point, there was no use sugarcoating it.

Nothing would change what had already happened.

He was doomed.

Along with Young Master Docep.

“Docep?”

At the mention of her most painful child, Francesca’s face stiffened.

To her, there was only one reason Carlos would act like this.

“Is this about that woman who came last time? The one who claimed she was pregnant with Docep’s child?”

Her voice dropped instantly, sharp and low, as if afraid someone might overhear.

Under her blade-like gaze, Carlos trembled.

“Yes.”

“Carlos, I’ll overlook your earlier rudeness. But from now on, you will answer my questions properly. Do you understand?”

It was a warning not to misspeak again.

“Of course.”

“Then report properly. Stand up straight. This is no behavior to show the servants.”

At her sharp rebuke, Carlos immediately straightened himself.

Even now, she was unmistakably Francesca.

But that thought passed quickly.

“I went to the commoner woman’s house.”

He continued.

“There was a sign posted in front of her house banning men from entering.”

“How ridiculous.”

Given her looks, men swarming her was inevitable.

What a tiresome life.

“I was curious why she suddenly put up such a sign, so I asked her neighbor… and she told me the woman was pregnant.”

At those hard-won words, Francesca’s eyes narrowed.

“Pregnant? Is that certain?”

“Yes. The neighbor had no reason to lie to me. And a woman who lived off men suddenly refusing their visits—it’s apparently because of the child.”

Francesca crossed her arms and fell into thought.

Refusing men so suddenly was suspicious.

It was like cutting off her own means of survival.

But it was because she was pregnant?

“The neighbor said that lately she’s been shopping at the market and cooking for herself. A chimney that used to look purely decorative now has smoke rising from it every day!”

As he spoke, Carlos grew more agitated.

She had changed completely.

There was no doubt about it—this was pregnancy.

He took a deep breath.

Now it was time for the real issue.

“And… I saw Young Master Docep at her house.”

“Docep…?”

For the first time, cracks appeared on Francesca’s composed face.

“He had his hair down and wore shabby clothes, but it was definitely him!”

“You’re saying he disguised himself and went to that woman’s house?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

Carlos answered, his voice trembling.

“Wait… why would Docep—”

Even if she was pregnant, Francesca had assumed it was another man’s child.

But if Docep had been there, that would have changed everything.

Her body swayed.

As dizziness washed over her, long-standing doubts began to make sense.

‘Come to think of it, Docep has been going out more often lately. Always carrying some unknown bundle.’

She had known about his frequent secret outings but let it slide because of the incident between Docep and Nikolai.

Not long ago, Nikolai’s beloved hunting dog had died.

Nikolai believed Docep was responsible and pressed him harshly.

Docep denied it, and the two argued loudly.

After that, Docep stopped appearing at family meals and began wandering outside.

When Nikolai went out on family business, Docep stayed home.

But the moment Nikolai returned, Docep would leave and only come back at dawn.

Francesca knew all of this through the servants, but since the brothers snarled at each other just by meeting, she had decided to wait and see.

But could it really be…?

“You’re saying he set up a household…?”

Her delinquent son had finally crossed the line.

When Francesca staggered, unable to bear the shock, Carlos rushed to support her.

“My lady, please steady yourself!”

“No. No matter how reckless Docep is, he wouldn’t do something like this.”

She denied it.

Even when he’d been acting out, it was limited to stealing from the market or getting into brawls.

She had some idea why Docep behaved that way.

Between an eldest son acknowledged early for his talent and a youngest son hailed as a once-in-a-century genius, Docep—born with ordinary ability—had always been the family’s burden.

So he must have wandered around seeking attention.

But Francesca believed that Docep knew where the line was.

She believed he wasn’t the kind of child who would commit an unforgivable mistake.

That he wasn’t that much of a brute.

“My lady!”

“I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes.”

She wanted to believe in him.

One last time.

***

In the small village of Bloodymary territory, just as the sun began to set—

“This is made from potatoes?!”

Michelle exclaimed in shock after cautiously biting into a hot potato pancake.

“What do you think?”

“W-Wait!”

Michelle hurriedly shoved another piece into her mouth.

“Ow—hot!”

“Eat slowly. There’s plenty.”

I smiled warmly as I handed her a cup of water.

“Does it suit your taste?”

“Mmmph! It’s so good!”

“Just eat for now.”

One look at her wide eyes told me everything.

She’d made a huge fuss over the chili pancakes I made with peppers from the market last time, saying she couldn’t eat them.

Thankfully, potato pancakes seemed to suit her palate.

“Chew properly. And eat as much as you like. We still have plenty of potatoes.”

Gulp.

“You made this out of potatoes?!”

Michelle finally swallowed and spoke properly.

Even then, her fork kept reaching for more.

“I can’t believe it. How is this so nutty? Is it a pie? A porridge? What do you even call this? And you made it with just potatoes! Be honest—didn’t you add something else?”

“No. This is made purely from potatoes and salt.”

“Really?”

I nodded proudly.

Michelle leaned over the potato batter and sniffed it.

“Amazing. Truly amazing. And it tastes great.”

“The texture’s incredible too, right?”

“Yes. How did you come up with a recipe like this?”