The Sleeping Devil

The next day, Didier came to play, but I was still angry.

Laughing so much at me for being a glutton... It made me cry...

I'm not a genius or anything like that.

I just have faint memories of my past life, for some reason I dream about the future, and my brain starts working a little faster than others.

Even when it comes to cooking, it's not like I have a strong attachment or that I thought of it myself based on my past memories.

"You're still angry? Look, I made the sweets from yesterday again. Let's eat together?"

They were a bit misshapen, but they were crunchier than yesterday and had a good texture.

"By the way, what was that about? The piping bag and whisk that you mentioned? What was it about? As an apology, shall I prepare them for you?"

Since Didier seemed to be trying to appease me in his own way, I regained my composure and explained briefly.

In this world, I have never seen plastic or rubber.

Since I wouldn't understand without hearing from the actual servants who use them, I had to go to the servants' sitting room again.

I've become an annoying child who visits every day.

"In other words, I need a bag that doesn't let water through and a nozzle. Do you have such tools?"

"For a bag that doesn't let water through, you can make one by coating the inside of the bag with the wax of a blue wasp. As for that 'nozzle,' you'll have to have a craftsman make it."

They seemed to understand somehow, and Cork, who had connections with craftsmen, agreed to place an order for me.

I'll also ask for a whisk while I'm at it.

Didier said he would pay for it on my behalf since I still didn't have any money, saying it's also an apology.

"I'll teach you how to use them once they're ready. Let's make something together again."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it!"

"Cork seemed to enjoy the new confectionery making, and even though he didn't understand, he gladly accepted my offer.

Building trust like this, someday I'll ask him to make cream stew for me.

In this world, the cuisine is primarily seasoned with just salt and pepper. It uses a lot of butter and oil, which is fine occasionally, but honestly, it feels like it would cause heartburn if consumed every day.

With such thoughts in mind, as I was about to leave the waiting room...

Thud!

"Eek!"

The one who let out a cute scream was Mary.

I was too startled to even make a sound. And then, with a slight delay, I finally understood.

A maid had collapsed and entered the room.

"Are you okay? Are you alive? Are you feeling unwell? You look pale."

Reacting quickly, I spoke, and another maid promptly stepped forward and apologized.

"I apologize, Lord Didier. I'm sorry for the unsightly scene, Lady Sheriel."

"Rather than that, we should quickly take her to a doctor if she's seriously ill..."

Didier silently looked at the area around the fallen maid's hand.

What could it be? Bandages? Blood...

Didier quickly blocked my line of sight and I was swiftly carried by Mary as we left the room.

"Is she okay? Could it be that she's troubled..."

"Sheriel doesn't need to worry. She's my mother's maid, after all."

I've been here for two years now, occasionally talking to Sergio, but I rarely have any conversations with Dior.

During the combined late breakfast and lunch, as well as dinner, I don't participate in the conversations and am left mostly alone.

I know that Dior takes care of various things behind the scenes, such as hiring teachers and checking on the progress of my studies.

In a sense, I think it's a good distance between us, but I also had a feeling that I didn't want to incur their anger unnecessarily, even though they were just servants, they were all noble young ladies.

Even the maids who do laundry and cleaning are all nobles.

While those of middling status may hire commoners, those who serve the noble family in the lord's castle are limited to nobles.

Mary is the second daughter of a lower-ranking noble family, and she considers herself lucky to have become a maid for the noble family.

In theory, she shouldn't be treated harshly by Didier, being pushed to the point of collapse or breaking things. That's what Margot-sensei would say.

Feeling somewhat brushed aside, I returned to the room, where Professor Zimon was waiting.

"My apologies for the delay. Good day, Professor Zimon."

I took a step back, loosely crossed one leg over the other, lifted my skirt without bowing my head, and slightly inclined my upper body, performing the greeting I had recently learned as a noble.

"What a charming greeting it is. Did you see, Zimon? Look at Sheriel, suppressing her trembling and instability. Ahaha! Even though she tries to put on a smiling face, her cheeks are imperfectly twitching, it's just delightful."

I wish he would be quiet for a moment.

"Indeed, it is charming. Good day, Lady Sheriel. Margot has been looking for Lord Didier."

"Oh, Margot again today. It would be troublesome if I'm any later. Sheriel, as much as it pains me to leave, let's study diligently at dinner, okay?"

"Thank you, Professor Zimon."

"I won't forget the favor you did for me," skillfully brushing off my embarrassing brother's speech.

"Now, today we had history lessons, didn't we?"

Since I recently finished studying the royal lineage, I've been learning about the history of the civil war.

Didier claims he can memorize everything after reading it once, but it was difficult for me to cram everything in.

But simply memorizing is not enough. If you don't understand it, the knowledge becomes useless.

"Surprisingly, there doesn't seem to be many struggles for the throne."

"That's right. Well, there are some, but they mostly occur in secret, behind the scenes, so they don't leave much trace in history."

"Assassinations, perhaps?"

"Yes, that's right. It often comes to that. To openly seize the throne, one would need a justifiable cause."

I see. So that's why the civil war is mainly composed of power struggles and territorial disputes among the nobles. In fact, there seem to be too many conflicts among the nobles.

"Are nobles just idle?"

It would be better if they could develop their territories more efficiently.

Sometimes, when I see Didier enjoying himself by stirring up situations and causing chaos, I can't help but smile wryly.

He appears as if he's having a blast, intervening in the midst of the conflict, turning the tide in favor of the disadvantaged faction, igniting unexpected conflicts, betraying allies, and helping the enemy faction win, doing whatever he pleases.

"Is the Beriard family always like this?"

"There has been an old saying: 'If you seek assistance from the Beriards, you might win. However, the outcome may not be what you desired.' That's why they say bringing in the Beriards is like selling your soul to the devil."

How ominous.

While Zimon speaks cheerfully, as a member of the Beriard family, only dry laughter escapes her.

"Perhaps it's about time we hired a specialized history teacher. While I possess knowledge of general education and research for the nobility, it might not be sufficient for you, my lady."

"I prefer having you as my teacher, Zimon-sensei."

If possible, I would like to avoid having someone I don't know as my teacher.

He wouldn't make the academy students scream in horror or impale his students on stakes like he does to me. Above all, I've always liked Zimon-sensei, who is always smiling kindly like a real grandfather.

Despite the grim historical facts, the class ends in a pleasant and harmonious atmosphere. I bid farewell to Zimon after a proper greeting.

Lately, I haven't fallen asleep in the middle of class anymore.

I am growing up.

Still, sleepiness inevitably creeps in, so I decide to take a short nap until dinner.

As soon as I get into bed, my eyelids start feeling heavy.

Napping after studying is the best.

Although classes can be tough, compared to the pressure of being a working adult who has to earn their own living, it's relatively easy.

Suddenly, the image of the maid who collapsed today crosses my mind.

She was also a middle-ranking noble.

"Mary... You became a maid through an employment contract, right? Isn't the work difficult?"

"Yes, there is no better place to serve than here. I was born into a lower-ranking noble family, and I have both an older brother and sister. It was fortunate for me to be hired as a maid for the Lord's family."

The social hierarchy in this world is complex.

It is divided into three tiers: upper, middle, and lower, based on the amount of magical power. Within each tier, there are further rankings based on magical power and peerage.

Peerage is granted to those who possess territory or hold important positions, and it is determined based on their magical power. For example, higher-ranking nobles are granted the title of Marquis, while those in the upper-middle are Earl. The lower-middle are Viscounts, and the lower-ranking are Barons.

Among the Marquises, those who are given territories are considered strong. Marquises with territories delegate cities to Earls, and Earls delegate villages to Viscounts. Furthermore, there are those who attain peerage through business or research. There are noble families that inherit major enterprises through generations, as well as families without peerage who struggle to make a living.

The ranking is determined by the power of the family, the power of their territory, and individual capabilities. It is a strict hierarchical society where everything is based on this ranking.

Despite being the daughter of a Marquis, Sheriel, the girl from my dreams, was looked down upon. It was likely because her behavior of "disregarding those of higher rank," which would normally never be tolerated, was encouraged by the Second Prince.

Lost in my thoughts, I gradually drift off without realizing it.

At dinner that evening, I decided to carefully observe Dior's maids.

Both maids have a pale complexion, and bandages can be seen peeking out from their sleeves. One of them is the maid who collapsed today. Dior doesn't seem particularly displeased, nor is she particularly cheerful. She's her usual self.

What could it be? This sense of unease... Ah, I see. The maid with the bandages doesn't exhibit a sense of desperation despite her pale complexion. There's no sign of anguish or fear.

I thought it might be due to corporal punishment or self-harm, but it doesn't seem to be the case...

While hoping for everything to go well, after a few days, news arrived that the meringue tools had been completed.

Gathering in the kitchen with the same members as last time, the preparations were already done. I immediately explained how to use the whisk and the piping bag.

"Wow, it quickly forms peaks..."

"It turned out just as expected. You're a skilled craftsman."

The whisk was working perfectly, which was a relief.

"Why do we need to make holes in the bag?"

"We insert a piping tip here and use it. You can wash it and use it again."

The cloth bag was smooth, so it seemed like the meringue wouldn't leak even when put inside. They cut one end of the bag, attached the piping tip, and started filling it with meringue.

Even though they needed an example, Sheriel couldn't squeeze it out properly because she was still a child. However, it seemed like they understood what to do, as the meringues with beautifully formed peaks started lining up after a few tries.

"Now all that's left is to bake them. These ones look neater, don't you think?"

"Yes, they're uniform and beautiful, like they were stamped. I think it's fine to serve them to the mistress."

"I think you can change the flavor and color of the meringues by mixing fruit juice into them. Please try different variations."

Cork's eyes sparkled, and in an instant, he started muttering to himself, lost in thought.

"Lemons and berries can be used. If I crush green grapes with their skin... Yes, yes, it can be used just like sugar candies... The challenge will be baking them properly... I'll have to try..."

Now, what should they call these when presenting them to Dior?... She'll leave that to her brother, Didier.

And so, they decided to wait in the usual servant's anteroom until the meringues were baked. It had become a place of relaxation.

Sheriel was worried that the other servants, who should have been resting, wouldn't be able to, but it seemed like there were several other rooms available, so it wasn't a problem.

"Nevertheless, it's amazing, Miss. Not only your skills in making sweets but also your consideration for the tools."

"Hehe... I guess that's my gluttonous talent at work."

"Eating delicious things makes us happy, after all."

Ignoring Didier, who burst into laughter again, she contemplated whether she should teach another recipe.

She felt like she could make cookies or sweet potatoes, but it would only be a way to cover up her lack of culinary talent.

Batan!

Once again, with a loud noise, a maid collapsed. However, this time it was different.

"Sigh... Again?"

"Are you alright? Someone call a doctor!"

The maid hurriedly got up. The maids of the Beriard family were well-trained. Even if they felt unwell, it was not permissible to collapse in front of others. This maid had finally made her way to the anteroom and never expected to find the family there, let alone in a state of carelessness.

"I-I apologize for the unsightly scene."

"It's alright. I should be the one apologizing... But more importantly, are you okay?"

"It's just a case of anemia. I will leave immediately, so please take your time."

With a pale face, the maid bowed weakly, and just like the maid from the other day, bandages were visible through the gap in her sleeve.

"Um, is there a bedchamber further inside? Please rest without worrying. We'll leave the room."

Jilke led the apologetic maid away, and they moved to their own room.

The maids seemed to know something and remained awkwardly silent.

"Do you know anything about this, Brother? She was different from the one the other day. Could it be that there are multiple maids like that?"

With a sigh as if saying "Oh well," Didier exhaled and started speaking after a preface, warning not to get too involved.

"It's not really a big deal, you know? The other day, when I entered Mother's room, it had a strong rusty smell. I unintentionally commented on it, saying it smelled bad. Then she started talking about a new beauty treatment or something... I think she said they smear the maid's blood on their faces."

"What?... What on earth?"

Without thinking, the words slipped out of my mouth before I could even organize them.

"Is there really such a horrifying beauty treatment?"

And Didier, casually brushing it off as if it were nothing, was also beyond comprehension. It's not something you can dismiss with "it smells bad."

"Well, nobody has died, so what's the harm? If we have fewer maids, Father might say something. Those with talent sometimes come up with unconventional methods that others find hard to understand. Sheriel, for example, came up with recipes and tools that no one else knew this time, right?"

"Please don't equate recipes with bloodletting. Besides, smearing blood is... sickening."

Suddenly, I remembered.

Come to think of it, it was only a few years ago, shortly after I arrived, that she originally passed away. My older brother is twelve now. He'll come of age in another four years.

The Beriard family can keep their sadistic tendencies in check to some extent as long as there are no issues until they come of age.

That's just a rough guideline, of course.

But if our mother were to die before he comes of age...

No, this is clearly dangerous.

I don't want to imagine Dior smearing blood on her face night after night, and I don't want to see Didier fall into darkness if something were to happen.

"Brother, please introduce me to my stepmother."

"Ah! Sheriel, this is the first time you've asked me for something on your own. Sure, I'll introduce you. But in return, will you grant my request?"

For some reason, Zimon's voice from the other day flashed through my mind.

Sell your soul to the devil.

"Please ask for something other than my soul."

"What are you talking about? Sheriel's soul is already mine."

With an angelic smile, Didier jokingly said that, seemingly devoid of any sense of crisis in this situation.

Truly befitting of the Beriard family.