May I Be Your Teacher?

Haa...

In the end, Cecilia stood before the cat hole with her brow deeply furrowed.

"Charles! If you come back, I'll give you a snack!"

"……."

"Charles?"

The novice butler stood by the wall and called out, but the haughty cat did not even deign to meow once. She would have bet her own wrist that the cat had heard her desperate plea and was steadfastly ignoring her.

If I leave him like this, he'll wreck the garden again.

Charles had a spectacular track record: on his very first day entering the marquis's estate, he had destroyed a grass sculpture that the gardener had spent a full month carefully crafting. Monetary compensation had quickly healed the gardener who had been pounding the ground and weeping, but that method clearly would not work on Rien, who seemed to take gardening as a hobby.

Resigned at last, Cecilia shoved her body into the cat hole, which felt unusually narrow today. And, astonishingly, she failed to pass through.

Whoa, I'm stuck.

Whether it was because she had just eaten, or because the dress she wore today had an unusual amount of lace and fabric pieces, her waist and hips were wedged tight and she could not move. Whatever the reason, cold sweat beaded on her skin in the embarrassing situation when, suddenly, a large hand gripped her around the ribs and yanked her up as easily as pulling a radish from the ground.

"A-are you all right?"

Startled by the sudden height, Cecilia braced her hands on the other person's shoulders. It was Rien, the robe enthusiast who was once again completely covered in his robe today.

Crazy.

She had never imagined meeting him in this state. Even someone as shameless as her found it mortifying to be rescued while stuck in a cat hole. Her face flushed bright red as Cecilia offered an excuse in a much smaller voice.

"W-well, Charles snuck over here again..."

"Ah, he must have taken a liking to my garden. He was playing there again."

The suggestion to be friends must have been quite effective; he replied without stammering and even smiled naturally. ...Though she could not see it because of the robe. She could tell from the curve of his lips and the laughter mixed into his voice.

Afraid her fluster would show, Cecilia quietly averted her gaze and spoke as if unfazed.

"But could you put me down now?"

"S-sorry."

At a single pointed remark, Rien instantly reverted to his usual self and promptly set her down on the ground.

"I-I'll go fetch Charles!"

"Shall we just go together?"

And the moment her feet touched the ground, Cecilia immediately started scheming.

I definitely wasn't in the mood for this...

Muttering an excuse to no one in particular, Cecilia roughly dusted off the dirt and stood side by side with him.

"Is that okay?"

"Huh? Yes! Of course!"

Accepting his stiff escort, they made their way to the western garden. As before, Cecilia attached herself to him with idle chatter.

"I think I'll have to block up the cat hole somehow. It's useful for getting out of the house without Father's permission, but then illegal trespassers like Charles or me can just barge in as they please..."

"Um, Lady Cecilia."

Suddenly, Rien carefully cut her off.

"It might be presumptuous of me to ask, but do you have something on your mind?"

At the rather sharp question, Cecilia turned her head toward him. She had thought she was hiding it well. Apparently her complicated, drooping mood had been found out.

Cecilia cast her gaze over the white flower field they had arrived at before she knew it. She could not spill every detail of her circumstances, but she also did not want to lie to him or brush it off. Without long deliberation, Cecilia opened her mouth.

"Something's come up, so it looks like I'll have to go up to the capital soon, but I've never left the territory before. Thinking about all the things I'll need to learn is making me a bit nervous."

"The capital, you say?"

Rien paused for a moment and asked back.

"Oh right, Rien, you said you came from the capital too, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's right."

He nodded readily. Cecilia quietly gazed at the mansion that was so large it created the optical illusion of being close even from a considerable distance. This mansion right next door to the marquis's estate was, she had heard, built long ago by one of the Weberdin ancestors for a dear friend. As time passed the owners changed, and though the price was ridiculously high, its remote location meant it had become little more than a vacation home for wealthy nobles. Anyone who bought a mansion like that must come from a high-ranking or quite wealthy family.

And a capital noble at that.

Separate from his gentle personality, his authority and connections must be solid. As she continued these rather snobbish conjectures, a good idea flashed through her mind.

"Um, Rien. If it's not too much trouble, could I get a recommendation for a good etiquette teacher? I need someone skilled in manners lessons."

It was not that she truly wanted an introduction to a competent teacher. It was just a self-interested scheme: if possible, build a connection with the master who taught him and solidify Plan D.

I really wasn't in the mood to scheme.

But what could she do? Opportunities that rolled in had to be seized without letting go. Yet it seemed quite a difficult request for him, as he could not easily answer. Just as she was about to take back her words, thinking the request had been too awkward—after some hesitation, he seemed to firm his resolve and willingly recommended a teacher.

"M-may I become Lady Cecilia's teacher?"

Rien himself, that is.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. To be precise, it was the interview room for selecting her etiquette teacher. Cecilia was straining with all her might not to space out, gape, or let out any bizarre exclamations. There was only one reason.

What the hell is with this beauty?

That Rien who had acted as if he would die without his robe was standing before her eyes in a neat formal suit. Of course, the thick silver-rimmed glasses were still there. Even so...

I've lived a good life.

Perhaps the hardships and trials of possession had been created for this very moment. However, the other person watching the same subject in the same space seemed to have completely different thoughts from hers. Lacking even the aesthetic sense an ordinary person ought to possess, the marquis who had been coldly scanning the resume finally spoke.

"You're a bit young... but to have even been a professor at the Academy—your career is certainly impressive."

What?

No matter how she looked at him he seemed about her age, yet an Academy professor? It would be impossible unless he was an extraordinary genius. But he did not seem like the type to forge a resume.

On the day Rien had volunteered as her teacher, Cecilia had nodded before she could even think this or that. That he was still hiding his identity, that he did not particularly seem skilled in etiquette—none of it mattered. She had simply seized the opportunity that had rolled her way. So the moment she returned home she had appealed to the marquis about the need for a teacher. Right after, Rien had applied to the job posting the marquis put out.

I was ready to throw a tantrum if Father didn't like him.

But who would have thought he was someone with actual ability as well.

"I was fortunate."

When Rien answered modestly, the marquis's eyes narrowed further.

"However... I find it questionable why someone with this level of career would come all the way out to a remote border region far from the capital."

"It's an ordinary reason, but I thought that if I ever needed to rest, I must go to Weberdin."

"Hmm, is there a reason?"

"Yes. My mother made travel a hobby in her youth, and she praised the Weberdin territory endlessly, saying it was a place blessed by the gods, extremely peaceful and beautiful."

"Well... there are many beautiful places in Weberdin, true."

"Yes. It's as good a place as the stories I heard from my mother, so I'm living here quite contentedly."

She had been maintaining as composed an expression as possible so as not to reveal their acquaintance. But as the Q&A continued, her pupils trembled violently, and finally her mouth even fell slightly open.

...Who the hell is that?!

Where had the shy gardener who got flustered easily and stammered gone? There was no way the person flaunting such eloquent speech could be "that Rien." Yes, that had to be someone who resembled Rien closely, or else his hidden twin.

Unlike her, who was shocked, the marquis seemed to have lowered his guard toward Rien with the light praise, his sharp eyes softening a degree. Ahem, he cleared his throat and continued in a more softened voice than before.

"So you're saying that while resting in Weberdin, you'll teach my daughter etiquette?"

"Yes. In my view, Lady Weberdin already possesses more than enough grace to stand equal to any capital noble, but if you entrust her to me, I believe I can be of some small help."

Praising the child to boost the parent's pride as a father, then modestly appealing to his own necessity... If this were twenty-first-century Korea, parents would have cried "Teacher!" and handed over both their children and their wallets. And a parent's heart was the same in any era, any world. The effect was certain.

"Then let's draw up the contract first."