When Viscountess Baker lost her composure and asked demandingly, Jisen opened her eyes wide.

　　“I have a mirror.”

　　“Then you must have looked in it before?”

　　“Yes. Why do you ask?”

　　“And yet after looking in it, you still say you’re plain or unsightly?”

　　A blue light.

　　Jisen breathed a sigh of relief. If her appearance wasn’t strange, that was a start. Judging by Susan and the viscountess’s reactions, it seemed she was actually fairly ordinary. This was another area where she needed to break free from the Count’s brainwashing.

　　Viscountess Baker, on the other hand, turned pale. Putting together the young master’s cowed demeanor and the young lady’s absurd self-deprecation, Count Burnett’s idea of parenting became painfully clear as resentment toward the Count welled up strongly inside her.

　　Unaware of her boiling indignation, Jisen spoke in a relieved voice.

　　“Anyway, if I dress up, will I look all right?”

　　“More than all right! You will be stunning. Please don’t misunderstand. Appearances aren’t all when it comes to beauty, but you are pretty, young, and intelligent to boot. Just a few words with you make your beauty clear. So please, don’t speak ill of yourself.”

　　A blue light burst before her eyes like fireworks. Jisen couldn’t help but sniffle.

　　“You are too kind, Viscountess.”

　　“May I give you a hug?”

　　A hug? It was an unfamiliar gesture. Jisen froze briefly before nodding. Lady Baker stood up, stepped in front of Jisen, and bent down. Jisen felt gentle hands wrap around her thin shoulders and pat her back.

　　“Oh…”

　　Jisen wasn’t sad, yet tears kept welling up inside her. The viscountess nodded as if understanding everything and kept patting her back. Flustered, Jisen muttered,

　　“I don’t know why I feel like crying when I’m not even sad.”

　　“Tears flow whether you are sad or happy. Life gives us so many reasons to cry. So cry while you can.”

　　Finding comfort in those words, Jisen sniffled and wept, forgetting all embarrassment.

　　With her eyes and nose swollen red, she saw Lady Baker off. Myers looked at Jisen with concern.

　　“Sister, were you crying?”

　　Jisen lowered herself and stroked Myers’s hair. A gentle child, a younger brother whose meekness made her worry. If Myers grew up like this, he too might become a “doll” in the eyes of others. Just as Lady Baker had said, it would be good for him to find what he excelled at and attend the academy.

　　“I cried because I was happy.”

　　“Why’d you cry when you’re happy?”

　　“I was told that happens sometimes.”

　　“Still, I wish you wouldn’t cry, Sister.”

　　Myers’s eyes grew teary. Jisen opened her arms to him.

　　Myers gently placed his hands over Jisen’s cheeks, cupping them. Her face felt cool, and the swelling seemed to subside.

　　Returning to her room, Jisen opened her notebook.

　　V Greet Lady Baker

　　V Discuss sponsorship

　　V A warm hug

　　V Receive comfort from Myers

　　Jisen wrapped her arms around her empty chest, hugging herself. Doing it on her own still felt like receiving a hug from someone else. It felt surprisingly nice.

　　How would Lady Baker invite her out into the world? As Jisen pondered the noble acquaintances Lady Baker might contact, a knock sounded at the door.

　　“Miss Jisen, it’s Susan. May I come in?”

　　Susan entered carrying a loaded tray full of tarts and tea.

　　Jisen’s mouth watered. Though she wasn’t hungry, her hand impulsively reached out. A soft, sweet flavor filled her mouth.

　　Gulping down a sip of tea, Jisen looked at Susan with reddened eyes.

　　“Susan, can I give you a hug?”

　　“Pardon? Me? Why?”

　　Susan timidly shuffled over to Jisen’s side. Jisen threw her arms around her in a tight hug. Awkward as it was for both of them, the embrace didn’t last long. Jisen whispered shyly.

　　“It’s delicious. Thank you.”

　　Seeing Jisen so grateful for such a small thing felt strange yet heart-wrenching to Susan. She lightly patted Jisen’s thin back.

　　“Is it really that to your liking? I’m just glad to see you eating well. I’ll bring more next time.”

　　Sudden affection was unfamiliar to both of them, but it did its part to narrow the distance between them. All throughout that day, Susan felt a ticklish, fluttering excitement in her chest.

* * *

　　A few days later, a small flower basket and a letter arrived at the mansion. Chamberlain Hatton was shocked when he saw the recipient written on the letter.

　　[To Miss Jisenberia Burnett]

　　It was a letter from Marchioness Thomas. This was the first time anything had ever been delivered to Jisen. And to think it was from a marchioness, no less.

　　She’s been acting strange enough lately as it is…

　　Just as the Count treated Jisen with disdain, the servants didn’t consider themselves her attendants either. Nor had Jisen ever ordered the servants to do anything. Recently, however, Jisen had been striding confidently around the house, going outside of her own accord, and even standing up to the Count.

　　It was only yesterday that the Count had ordered him to report any conspicuous behavior from Jisen. While Hatton had readily agreed, confusion now washed over him. When the Count was absent, Jisen didn’t cause any particular commotion. If anything had changed, it was simply that she no longer stayed locked up in her room all day, nor did she walk on eggshells around the servants anymore. For an ordinary noble, wouldn’t that be entirely natural and hardly noteworthy?

　　Carrying the flowers and letter, Hatton headed toward the Count’s study. On his way, he ran into Susan carrying a covered tray at the foot of the stairs.

　　Susan wanted to run away on the spot, but she gave a slight curtsy to greet Hatton. Hatton reached out and lifted the tray’s lid. Empty dishes and cups. Susan knit her brows into a frown.

　　“Why are you looking?”

　　“Because I’m very interested in you. I was checking if you were hiding food to eat for yourself. You’ve been looking quite fine lately.”

　　Hatton’s gaze swept over Susan’s body. Without concealing her disgust, Susan took a step back. That was when she noticed the flowers in Hatton’s hand.

　　“What are those flowers for?”

　　“They say they’re for the doll.”

　　“The doll…”

　　That meant they were for Jisen. Susan reached out toward the flowers.

　　“Give them to me. I’ll take them to her.”

　　“What are you talking about? Don’t start acting out of character. I’m putting them in the study. Not like the doll could read it properly anyway.”

　　From what Susan had observed recently, Jisen was a smart young lady who could both read and write. Slights against Jisen, which Susan would have brushed off in the past, now grated heavily on her nerves.

　　If those flowers and the letter went into the study, Jisen wouldn’t ever get to see them. In that case, Susan felt she should at least inform her. Feigning a loss of interest, Susan spoke up.

　　“Well, isn’t that something. I suppose there really is someone in the world who knows the doll. How strange.”

　　“My thoughts exactly. And a marchioness, no less.”

　　“A marchioness?”

　　“Marchioness Thomas sent them.”

　　“I guess she and the Count talked about something.”

　　“Which is why I’m taking them to the study.”

　　“Of course, of course. Carry on then.”

　　Susan hurried out of Hatton’s sight, disgusted by the feeling that his gaze was still clinging to her.

　　After leaving the empty dishes in the kitchen, Susan went back up to Jisen’s room. Jisen was holding embroidery tools, awkwardly practicing her needlework.

　　“Miss! Miss Jisen!”

　　“Why are you back?”

　　“They say Marchioness Thomas sent you flowers! I saw them, and there was a letter too.”

　　Jisen parted her lips with a vacant stare, then let out a soft gasp of realization.

　　Marquis Thomas. It was a solid choice. A high-ranking noble with ties to the Count. Someone the Count couldn’t simply cut off. It was only natural that they would soon take an interest in her.

　　“How did you find out?”

　　“Hatton was taking them to the Count’s study when I bumped into him. Ugh, I didn’t want to exchange a single word with that man… but he was taking the flowers meant for you to the study.”

　　This was likely Viscountess Baker’s first handiwork. Marchioness Thomas had recently given birth to a daughter, and Thomas Manor was in a festive mood every day. Whether or not she could go, the fact that a path had opened before her was deeply meaningful.

　　“I wonder what it’s about.”

　　“Could it be an invitation to Thomas Manor?”

　　“For me? Then I should accept.”

　　“Gasp! Then Miss, you need to get ready with a matching dress and hair! Leave it to me. My aunt taught me, so I’m good at making ribbons.”

　　“Even so, the Count won’t let me go.”

　　“Ah… right… He keeps you from any social activities altogether… claiming it’s for your own good…”

　　Having been briefly excited, Susan grew crestfallen and fell silent.

　　“Don’t be disappointed. One day, you’ll be busy dressing me up every single day.”

　　“Will a day like that really come?”

　　“Of course. A day will come when even the Count will need me.”

　　Susan nodded. She wanted to believe that if her young lady said so, such a day truly would come. Jisen set down her needle and fabric with a sigh.

　　“For now, show me how to do this again.”

　　“Miss, your needlework really is…”

　　Susan burst into laughter upon seeing the embroidery, which looked less like a flower and more like a blob of dust.

* * *

　　Returning home, the Count wrinkled his brow at the letter and flowers left in his study. The relaxed, genial facade he maintained outside was immediately replaced by irritation.

　　“Jisenberia…? Marchioness… Thomas…?”

　　Hands trembling with drunken rage tore open the envelope. He immediately picked up the letter, torn down the middle, and read it.

　　“…To celebrate the birth of an heir who will carry forward the marquisate’s future… inviting the young ladies of the capital… to attend and grace us with their presence…”

　　Cursing, the Count tore the letter into tiny pieces and threw them onto the floor. Chest heaving as he huffed in uncontrollable anger, he viciously called for Hatton.

　　“Hatton. Hatton!!”

　　Hatton, who had been waiting outside the door, rushed in and stood before the Count.

　　“Yes, My Lord.”

　　“How does that woman even know the girl to send her this? Everyone thinks she’s deathly ill, so why?!”

　　“Since she has no personal connection with the young lady… it seems to have been sent out to every noble household.”

　　“Send a refusal at first light.”

　　“Understood, My Lord.”

　　He had thought she was behaving herself after being beaten and locked away, but that crazy wench was unsettling his peace in the most unexpected way.

　　“Even if she went out, she’d only humiliate herself!”

　　Those words were directed at himself as much as at Jisen. The Count paced back and forth, stomping his feet. After displaying such anxiety, he stepped out of the study to look for a bottle of liquor. This anxiety and displeasure were feelings he couldn’t soothe without alcohol.