SWS CH 10

Chapter 10

“Who is it?”

Another one of Halara’s pursuers?

I set down the gift in my hands and walked to the door.

“Miss Halara Seheb, we would like to speak with you for a moment.”

As expected, it was a man.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t wish to meet anyone I had ties with in the past.”

I declined politely.

“You have no such ties, but the Duchess of Bloodymary has come in person.”

Wait.

Who?

“The Duchess of Bloodymary?”

“Yes.”

That woman was the future mother-in-law I met the moment I possessed this body.

“Please, come in.”

Whatever this was about, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear her.

A noble lady stepped through the worn wooden door.

Was it my imagination, or did she look a little thinner than a few days ago? Even so, the pressure and dignity radiating from her were overwhelming.

She looked elegant in a way completely opposite to me, who had been running around the market these days and had become no different from a countryside woman.

“Please, sit here.”

The man standing beside her gestured toward the seat opposite as she sat on the rickety wooden chair.

Who was he? A servant?

He looked familiar.

I must’ve seen him back when I first possessed this body, in the duke’s reception room.

“I’ll bring some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The male lead’s mother cut off my courtesy in one stroke.

I was slightly grateful.

Tea was expensive, and I needed to save every cup.

“I came because I have something to say.”

“What might that be?”

Did she still have something to say to me?

“If you were upset about my visit to the ducal castle previously, I offer you a formal apology. I committed a grave offense by overstepping my lowly status and offending a noble person.”

Well… I had apologized pretty halfheartedly back then.

I’d just possessed this body, and the male lead’s mother had been standing right in front of me. It was a life-or-death situation.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Francesca’s brow creased sharply.

“I’ll ask you one last time. Answer carefully.”

“Yes. I know an apology may not be enough, but please forgive me.”

As expected of the lady of a swordsmanship family.

Francesca swept her sharp gaze around the room, then her eyes landed on the knitting pushed to one side of the table.

“What is that?”

“Socks. And a hat.”

She reached out and touched what I’d made.

She looked at it with mild curiosity at first, but her expression quickly hardened, and her fingertips began to tremble.

“Hah! You intend to dress a fragile, precious baby in this?”

“…What?”

That was offensive.

It wasn’t like I wanted to make it out of such rough fabric.

“That’s enough.”

Enough of what?

“Pack your things immediately.”

“…Pardon?”

“You win.”

“What? Win what exactly—”

Had there been a contest?

“You said you loved my son. Fine. As you wish, I’ll let you be with him.”

What?!

“You wouldn’t dare claim now that even those words were lies meant to toy with me, would you?”

***

Francesca had prepared many questions before Carlos knocked on Halara’s door.

But the moment she entered the house, the rich, savory smell filled the air and left her speechless.

As the mistress of a ducal household, she had eaten every kind of luxurious dish imaginable. Yet such a fragrant, appetizing scent was coming from a mere commoner’s home.

Docep must have had the ducal chef prepare it and bring it here.

To go through such trouble—there was no doubt Docep had fallen deeply for this woman.

Feeling heavy-hearted, she scanned the interior.

The stiflingly small house contained only a few shabby, old pieces of furniture.

That is…

What caught her eye among them was a baby hat and socks.

Seeing them made everything even clearer.

Halara truly was pregnant with Docep’s child.

A physician’s diagnosis and baby items—how much clearer could the evidence be?

Then what on earth had this woman been thinking when she denied being pregnant?

She couldn’t understand her intentions.

But what drew Francesca’s attention even more was how poorly made the baby items were.

Bought at the market?

The cheap linen was frayed, threads sticking out everywhere.

But when she noticed Halara’s reddened fingertips and the basket set nearby, she quickly realized the truth.

She made them herself?

This young woman had made the baby’s hat and socks.

For the child in her womb.

Stitch by stitch.

As Francesca stared blankly at them, her chest felt heavy.

I was once like that too.

Nikolai, Docep, Helvern.

She had carried all three children with love in her heart.

When her belly grew, she’d made things for them herself.

Back then, I only wished for them to be healthy.

Yet when Docep grew up healthy, she treated him harshly.

Perhaps she had taken out her frustrations on him alone.

Her expectations that he would become a great knight like Nikolai.

Her disappointment when his power never awakened.

She had vented her own desires on him.

And this child?

Francesca looked at Halara.

She’d heard rumors that Halara was a selfish temptress who cared only about money.

But neither then nor now could Francesca find even a trace of such malice.

Now I understand why she hid it.

Francesca realized it.

No—any mother would.

She knew the child would be taken from her. She wanted to give birth in secret and stay with the baby. She wanted to raise it with love in her own arms.

That was the answer.

Perhaps her feelings were genuine.

Docep and this child.

Halara had even said she liked him.

Then why had she hidden the pregnancy after daring to request a private audience with the duchess?

After seeing the ducal castle in person, she must have realized she wouldn’t survive there.

Francesca knew that feeling well.

Though born into nobility and raised with strict education, she herself had suffered for years under the oppressive atmosphere of the Bloodymary family.

A commoner wouldn’t be ignorant of that.

Francesca roughly dropped the baby socks and hat she’d been holding.

But these—how dare she use these—

“To dress my grandchild in such things!”

The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Making them by hand was admirable, but Docep’s child was now her grandchild.

Even dressing them in the finest things wouldn’t be enough.

“…What?”

Halara’s eyes widened.

Seeing her hurriedly put the items away, she must have realized her mistake.

Though it was pointless to hide it now.

Everything’s already been exposed.

Fine. Hide it.

If the pregnancy became public before she entered the household, that would only bring disaster.

If both sides pretended ignorance, it benefited Francesca as well.

“Come to the estate. You’re the only one who says she likes my son, so I’ll permit it.”

***

Come to the ducal estate?

What did that even mean?

Was I missing something?

“Wait a moment, Duchess. This isn’t something that can be decided just because I want it—”

“Enough rambling. Everything is prepared on our end. Just come.”

“…What?”

She clearly didn’t care about my opinion.

What kind of person is she?!

“You said you liked my son. Come live there.”

Even if her son was a delinquent, she was really going to connect him to a commoner this easily?

“But… I’m a commoner.”

Back then, it was just an excuse to leave.

I had no intention of getting entangled with Docep and dying together.

I didn’t even know what Docep looked like.

I just wanted to run a business here.

Bloodymary might fall, but the people of the territory wouldn’t die.

For commoners like us, only the ruler’s name changes. Nothing else does.

That was the one advantage of possessing a commoner’s body.

“Didn’t you say you liked my son?”

“Well, yes, but—”

If I said no here, she looked ready to kill someone.

“It’s better than my son spending his nights alone.”

“…What?”

What kind of plot twist was this?

In the original story, Halara was treated with contempt because she was a commoner.

Of course, she’d shown up pregnant before marriage and demanded money, so it was hard to view her favorably—but the disdain had largely been because of her status.

“Do you dislike it?”

Francesca asked with a severe gaze.

It wasn’t How dare you reject our family? but rather How dare you toy with my son and me?

Terrifying.

These were people who could truly kill someone.

Should I say it’s too much pressure? That I want to stay a fan from afar?

As I hesitated, Francesca snapped in a lowered voice.

“So it wasn’t a lie that you spent a night with my second son.”

Good thing I hesitated.

If I’d said anything about “fan feelings,” my head might’ve rolled.

“I came already knowing everything, so don’t think you can gloss over it.”

“…Ah.”

I had nothing to say.

I’d only read what Halara claimed in the original story.

I didn’t know what really happened between her and Docep.

“If I stay quiet and live peacefully…?”

“I understand how you feel, but that won’t do.”

What exactly did she understand?

She didn’t know I was possessed.

She didn’t know her family would be destroyed.

She didn’t know that if this continued, both of us would die tangled up with Docep.

She knew nothing.

Unable to explain any of that, frustration welled up inside me.

“Isn’t there some other way?”

“No. Not once I’ve decided.”

Not an inch of compromise.

“Even if I leave under a new identity?”

That was the best solution I could think of.

I really didn’t want to die in that family.

Even if Francesca slapped me and screamed at me—anything would be better.