Episode 45

“Here, Take this.”

Cersia smiled brightly as she pulled a flower from the basket and handed it to Ivan. Unlike the polite gesture she had shown Balzac, she practically tossed the flower at Ivan as if doing him a favor.

Ivan, however, didn’t mind and beamed. He naturally placed the flower on his head and acted coy.

“Doesn’t it look good on me?”

His posing was obnoxious. It seemed he still hadn’t given up on pretending to be a daughter. Perhaps it was fortunate that he wasn’t saying, “Daddy, daddy, do I look pretty?”

Seeing him act like that even outside made Balzac’s neck stiffen. He should never have let Ivan go to the main fortress.

Then Cersia responded with a smile.

“Indeed.”

“Right? People often say flowers suit me. They call me a flower boy or something. Haha!”

“Yes, it suits you. You look like a perfect madman.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

The exchange was so ambiguous it was hard to tell if it was a compliment or an insult. Anyone would see it as an insult, but Ivan took it as a compliment, which was typical of him.

Indeed, with the flower on his head, he did look truly crazy.

Cersia’s blunt honesty was somewhat admirable.

‘She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.’

If she was to become the little mistress of Jabisi, she needed to be able to look down on the lions and assert herself.

Balzac had been worried that the direct descendant was too high and that being near him was too dangerous. He had also been concerned that Cersia, with her tiny stature, might not be able to command authority.

But her boldness was proving him wrong.

“Shall we move to the next delivery spot?”

Ayla said with a smile, and Cersia nodded. It seemed that this annex was the first place they had visited.

It was commendable that she had come this far despite her shyness.

Balzac addressed Cersia respectfully, a noticeable change in his attitude from before.

“If you give them to me, I will distribute them.”

“But I wanted to deliver them personally and greet everyone…”

“As the future little mistress, there’s no need for you to go around personally. I will deliver them on your behalf.”

Cersia stared at Balzac’s outstretched hand. Ivan muttered softly, “Oh, such a stubborn man!” but she ignored him.

After a moment, Cersia took a few flowers aside and handed the basket to Balzac.

“Then, please do.”

“Yes.”

Balzac took the basket. It looked awkward in his large, rugged hands.

Cersia watched him with a blank expression. She had feared that Balzac might ridicule her for giving flowers, but his reaction wasn’t hostile.

In truth, she found dealing with elders difficult. The piercing gazes from those who seemed to scrutinize her every move had been burdensome. Perhaps it was due to memories from her past life.

The remarks from the adults at her parents’ funeral were still vivid. She had thought the elders’ disdainful looks in the meeting hall were no different from those she had received back then.

Cersia hesitated before asking quietly.

“In that case, could you also pass along a message with the flowers?”

“Go ahead.”

“Please tell them to stop staring at me.”

“What?”

“Wherever I go, their eyes follow, and it’s very uncomfortable.”

“Oh.”

“I know it’s because they don’t like me… but being constantly watched is too…”

“Wait!”

Balzac hurriedly interrupted, surprised. As Cersia tilted her head, Balzac explained.

“They are not looking at you to find faults.”

“Then why?”

“They’re just amazed.”

“What?”

Cersia blinked, not understanding. Balzac scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

“They were surprised by what you did in the meeting hall. It was the first time they had seen such a thing in their lives.”

“What I did in the meeting hall…”

“Yes, when you hit Lord Zerakiel.”

“…”

Cersia was speechless. She remembered losing her temper and repeatedly kicking Zerakiel. Realizing this was why she had drawn attention made her face flush.

She had assumed they were watching her to catch her mistakes, but they were just shocked by her actions.

Due to past experiences, she had jumped to negative conclusions. In reality, they probably hadn’t thought much of it.

Cersia lowered her head in embarrassment, fiddling with the flower in her hand.

“But they still don’t like me. They think I’m an incomplete beast of unknown origin.”

“It’s true we were harsh in the meeting hall, but our dissatisfaction was with the direct descendant, not you.”

“What?”

“Due to the direct descendant’s independent actions, the elders’ complaints had accumulated, so we deliberately spoke harshly. We had to understand the person who would be the little mistress. Besides…”

Balzac paused, taking a breath. He seemed to be deciding whether to say more.

“To be honest, you looked like you were being threatened. A white weasel in the black lion’s family? We thought Lord Zerakiel was forcing you.”

“…”

He had forced her, but she had agreed, so it was awkward.

“Why were you in your beast form? Everyone was tense because you were in Lord Zerakiel’s grasp.”

“Oh…”

There were reasons she couldn’t explain, but it was a situation that could easily be misunderstood.

Although she could have appeared in her human form, she had shown up at the meeting in her weasel form, which naturally seemed strange. They must have thought Zerakiel had forced her to transform. Balzac spoke up.

“It is true that we opposed the marriage, but it wasn’t out of dislike for you, Lady Cersia. If we have offended you, I apologize on behalf of the elders.”

Balzac bowed his head in apology, and Cersia waved her hands dismissively.

“Oh, no! I just…”

“And as you commanded, I’ll tell everyone to keep their eyes down next time.”

No, that’s too extreme.

Cersia shook her head, her lips trembling.

“Just tell them not to avoid me like I’m a plague victim.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone avoids eye contact and runs away, which is uncomfortable. I want to get along with everyone…”

She hoped that by doing so, she could feel more at ease while staying in Jabisi Castle.

Balzac was touched by her desire to get along. Thinking about it, Cersia was practically an outsider living in the lion’s territory. It must be incredibly lonely for a weasel to be here, especially in a castle that is generally hostile to other beastmen.

She was a young beastman, not even fully grown, and abandoned only to be picked up by Zerakiel—truly an unfortunate soul.

As her master’s retainer, he should have been more considerate of her feelings. Realizing this, Balzac felt a heavy burden on his heart.

“I understand.”

“Thank you…”

“Would it be alright if I visit you often?”

“What?”

“I, too, am curious about you, Lady Cersia.”

“Uh…”

“I mean, I want to be friends.”

Balzac smiled warmly and extended his hand. Cersia stared at his hand, feeling a tickle in her heart at this warm gesture, so different from his fierce demeanor in the meeting.

“Yes, thank you, Balzac.”

“Please, just call me Balzac.”

“Okay, Balzac.”

Cersia found herself smiling without realizing it.

Suddenly, she missed her late grandmother. It wasn’t that Balzac reminded her of her grandfather; it was just that when Balzac extended his hand, she remembered the only person who had offered her a hand at her parents’ funeral.

Feeling a sting in her eyes, Cersia smiled even more brightly.