41. Pretty.
“Ah, Young Master?”
“Adue, ippu (pretty)!”
The baby let out excited squeals, his eyes sparkling as if he truly loved Adelen’s hair ornament.
His enthusiastic reaction melted Adelen’s heart.
…Really?
Am I… pretty?
The baby’s outburst snapped everyone else back to their senses.
“Oh, you really are pretty, Adelen!”
“Wow. That hair ornament is everything. With that on, you could totally pass for a noble lady!”
“Exactly. We should start calling you ‘young lady’ now. Our lord really has an eye for these things—how did he manage to find something that suits you so perfectly?”
It was like they were all participating in a “Who Can Compliment Adelen the Most?” competition, and their synchronized praise was downright irritating.
It was clear to them that their master’s thoughtfulness mattered more than Adelen’s poor, fluttering heart.
Her escape routes were quickly narrowing.
The only thing left was her master’s evaluation.
If he didn’t like it, he was the kind of person who would silently take it back without a word.
“…It’s pretty.”
“…”
And just like that, his opinion dropped.
It was the same word the others and the baby had used—nothing different.
“…Re-really?”
“It suits you well.”
The only thing that made it different was that it was coming from her master’s mouth—and that made her heart plummet.
Hearing the word “pretty” felt dangerously unsettling for some reason, though she couldn’t quite figure out why.
Adelen couldn’t bring herself to deny it, so she just bit her lip.
“…Thank you.”
And in the end, the gift couldn’t be returned.
Although her birthday had passed, its effects lingered for quite a while.
The baby, who had been playing happily, suddenly started clapping his hands.
“…Is it that time again?”
By now, Adelen had grown used to bracing herself for this.
“Saengil chukka-haeyo (Happy birthday)!”
Since Adelen’s birthday, the baby had learned to clearly pronounce “saengil chukka-haeyo.”
It was fascinating to see how things she had doubted would ever happen gradually came to be.
“Saengil chukka-haeyo!”
“Yes, thank you.”
The minor issue was that she now received birthday congratulations about thirty times a day on average.
The problem had all started with the gift her master gave her, which she had reluctantly accepted.
Even long after receiving it, she couldn’t stop worrying about whether she was really allowed to keep it.
‘Adue! Saengil! Saengil!’
‘Huh? Oh, oh! Birthday? Should we celebrate again?’
‘Saengil chukka-haeyo!’
What began as a casual joke quickly spiraled into chaos.
The moment the song ended, the baby would demand that she wear the hair ornament immediately.
Once Adelen, overwhelmed by the baby’s persistence, finally gave in and put it on, there was no going back.
After that first time, it became routine.
Take out the hair ornament, sing the birthday song, and then wear the hair ornament—that was the rule now.
“Celebrating your birthday again?”
“…Yes.”
Even the head butler had witnessed this ritual many times.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.”
And every time he saw it, he would tease her by joining in on the song.
At this rate, it felt like her birthday would last all year long.
Adelen buried her flushed face in her hands and let out a deep sigh.
Meanwhile, the baby and the butler laughed heartily, thoroughly entertained.
Ever since the baby started saying the butler’s name, the two had grown considerably closer.
“Adue ippu (pretty)!”
And then came the “pretty” attack.
After “Adue,” “kong” (bean), and “mamma” (food), “ippu” was the baby’s next favorite word.
Whenever Adelen did anything, it was always “ippu, ippu.”
At first, she thought the baby was simply using “pretty” as her nickname, but no—it was only when there was an actual external change that the baby said it.
He was as precise as someone distinguishing between a red-winged spotted stag beetle and a regular one.
When her bangs lay unusually flat, when her braids were perfectly neat without a single stray hair, or when she woke up with glowing skin after a rare full night’s sleep because the baby hadn’t disturbed her—those were the moments.
And, of course, whenever she wore the hair ornament her master had given her.
“Oh my, our Adelen is so pretty, so pretty.”
“Enough already!”
The butler burst into laughter as Adelen squirmed in discomfort.
With reactions that satisfying, how could they stop teasing her?
“Ah! Seriously! Stop it!”
“Why? You’re just so pretty. You should wear it often.”
“This is going to cause a huge problem… The butler and the knights understand the situation, but if anyone else sees, rumors will spread like wildfire!”
Adelen shuddered at the thought.
That lingering worry had been eating at her ever since she received the gift.
“What kind of master gives such an expensive gift to a maid?”
“Well, that’s true. Maybe he really does like you?”
“Butler! You heard the explanation too—how can you say that?!”
When Adelen became too flustered, Rakalt eventually revealed why he had chosen the gift.
It was a decision carefully crafted by gathering the gossip of the knights.
A bouquet of unfading flowers, jewelry equivalent to cash, and a decorative item with high resale value—it was, by all logical standards, a perfect gift.
“Sure, the price could suggest feelings, but you know our master isn’t like that.”
The butler, chuckling softly, nodded at Adelen’s desperate insistence.
What had started as harmless teasing became more entertaining due to Adelen’s strong reactions.
If rumors spread, it wouldn’t just trouble Adelen—he himself would suffer his master’s wrath.
Oblivious to this, Adelen continued to fret.
“Anyway, you must never mention this anywhere else. Got it?”
“I won’t, I won’t. No way am I spreading our master’s scandal.”
“You’re the best, Butler!”
“…But are you sure nothing’s going on?”
“…”
“I mean, even if there aren’t feelings, maybe there’s something physical…”
Sometimes, moments like these reminded Adelen that the butler was still human—no matter how professional he was, curiosity was unavoidable.
“There is… every night…”
“Every night?!”
“A battle with the baby. No, multiple battles.”
“…Oh.”
The butler, having experienced the baby’s energy firsthand, knew exactly what she meant.
Still, one last shred of imagination refused to die.
“But he has plenty of stamina, right?”
“Yes, our master never runs out of energy.”
The master’s vow to thoroughly crush the crown prince of an enemy nation was no joke—he always emerged victorious.
“But so what?”
“Then… what if he needs an outlet for that leftover energy…?”
“Our master?”
And then, Adelen repeated the legendary line that every servant had uttered the day the baby arrived.
“…Ah.”
That single syllable rendered the butler speechless.
“Am I really that scary?”
“Gasp!”
“Eek!”
Suddenly, Rakalt’s voice cut in.
