Chapter 5: A Small Rift

When he smiled and claimed that it meant love, I couldn’t help but wonder—what on earth was this man talking about? His thought process was so twisted, so disturbingly similar to that of a stalker, that it left me feeling a wave of revulsion.

“…Um, excuse me, but—is that it? That alone is the reason you thought, ‘she must be in love with me’?”

“That alone?! That whore told me, ‘If a woman doesn’t like you, she would never smile at you’!”

“A whore? Ah… so you went to a brothel when you visited the city, didn’t you, Autihel?”

“—W-wait! N-no, I mean… a friend dragged me there, against my will, you see…”

So that explains it. When he came back from the capital, his attitude had shifted. It wasn’t maturity or some epiphany—he had simply graduated. Worse, he had swallowed a prostitute’s flattery whole and twisted it into the delusion that “she must be in love with me.”

“I never wanted to go in the first place! I was forced along, that’s all…”

Autihel’s excuse tumbled out, desperate and frantic. The way he clung to it so fiercely was almost laughable. If he hated it so much, he could have simply not gone.

“No, I honestly don’t care whether you visited a brothel or not. That’s your own affair. But if a simple smile is enough for you to believe a woman is in love with you, then perhaps next time I should greet you with the eyes one uses when looking at an insect—would that be better?”

“—M-mother, that’s a little too cruel, isn’t it?”

Her eyes flashed sharply, carrying the cold arrogance of a villainess straight from a noble’s tale. I couldn’t help but shiver—please, mother, stop with that look!

“Ah, forgive me, Al. You’re right, comparing him to an insect might be too harsh… I might be tempted to crush him underfoot without thinking. Then perhaps… horse dung would be more fitting? No one wants to step on that, after all.”

“Lady Tine, please… for young Al’s upbringing, such harsh words aren’t good. At the very least, reduce him to something like a pebble.”

Not just Autihel—both the village chief and Keties stiffened in their seats, their faces turning pale.

How terrifying… the women of my household were truly furious now. There was no stopping them. I could only offer silent apologies to the heavens.

“A-a-anyway… then, how exactly did you propose marriage?”

Keties was the first to regain his composure, steering the conversation back on track by asking Autihel about the circumstances of his so-called proposal.

If the exchange of proposal and consent had truly taken place, then mother could not escape blame.

“Eh? Ah, right. The day after I reported that the wall repairs were finished, I asked Tine, ‘May I pluck your flower?’ and she answered, ‘Yes.’ Isn’t that right?”

“…What? How… how does that constitute a marriage proposal?”

Mother tilted her head, trying to recall the moment, while Keties frowned in bewilderment.

“What?! You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

Autihel scanned the room desperately, seeking validation, but everyone else wore blank expressions.

“I-I heard it from someone! They said a famous author wrote that proposing with the words, ‘I want to pluck your flower,’ was the latest trend, like referencing a romantic tale. That’s what people are doing now!”

Ah. So it was a line lifted from some story. The equivalent of saying, ‘The moon is beautiful tonight,’ to mean ‘I love you.’

But still… ‘I want to pluck your flower’? Surely your flower refers to a woman herself, her chastity, her body. And to pluck it… doesn’t that sound far less like a marriage proposal and far more like I want to have you in my bed?

“What was the name of this author?”

“Um… Mead Nai… something. I can’t quite remember.”

“A strange name indeed… but I’ve never heard of it.”

I had read many stories during my time at the viscount’s house, but never had I encountered such an author. Perhaps a foreign writer?

“Listening to you, Autihel, it seems you simply latch onto whatever you hear and recklessly charge ahead, without truly thinking.”

Keties’s voice carried a sharp rebuke, and I had to admit, his words rang painfully true.

“Um, Lord Keties, as the appointed witness, should you really be involving yourself in the discussion…?”

“Ah—my apologies. I spoke out of turn, curiosity got the better of me. I’ll remain as a silent observer from here.”

The village chief’s reminder made Keties bow his head slightly, acknowledging he had overstepped.

“Mother, why did you answer ‘yes’ back then?”

Autihel’s words I understood well enough. What I didn’t understand was why mother had replied that way.

“Because I thought he was asking if he could take one of the flowers from the garden.”

Indeed, we had a small flowerbed.

Mother’s favorite blossoms grew there—sugar roses. In spring, they bloomed in clusters of tiny flowers, releasing a gentle sweetness into the air. Mother often dried the petals and mixed them into her tea.

“Now that you mention it, lately more people have been asking for flowers, haven’t they?”

“Yes. Others wanted to try them as well, so I assumed Autihel was the same.”

Ah. So she had mistaken his words as a request for flowers for tea. That explained everything.

“Th-then… Tine, you won’t marry me after all?!”

“I believe I stated that at the very beginning, didn’t I?”

Autihel’s eyes clung to mother, desperate, almost pleading. That gaze—it made me want to gouge his eyes out.

But finally, it seemed the truth had penetrated even his thick skull. I felt a rush of relief.

“…Martine, listen. My son wishes to wed you, and he will be the next village chief. Thinking of the future, wouldn’t it be best to accept and secure your place with him?”

The mention of the future sent a faint unease prickling through me.

Stefana would eventually return to the baron, leaving only mother and me. With just the two of us, maintaining our fields would become difficult.

And yet… to have Autihel as my father? That thought alone was unbearable. I’d sooner run away.

“If the time comes when marriage is necessary, I will decide together with my son, Arthur. But no matter what is said, I will never marry Autihel.”

Mother’s rejection was clear, firm, and unwavering. Yet her boldness worried me.

Ours was a small, closed-off village. To defy the village chief so openly was to court his enmity.

“—You dare mock me?! Do you realize how much I have done for you? A mere widow thinks she can defy me?! Unforgivable!”

Ah, there it was. He had snapped.

“A mere widow, you say…”

Keties’s quiet murmur froze the chief in his seat. A bead of cold sweat traced down his temple as he glanced around nervously.

“N-no… I only meant, for the sake of my son…”

In this world, widows were vulnerable. To raise children alone was harsh, nearly impossible. So many widows remarried quickly, accepting poor conditions just to survive, yielding to their new husband’s every demand out of fear of abandonment.

And men, in turn, treated them as little more than compliant whores.

The village chief clearly thought the same. After all, there had been many women before mother who had no choice but to bow their heads and endure.

If there were childcare centers, perhaps things would be different. But in a society as underdeveloped as this one, women were not expected to work outside the home.

Yet even within such a world, mother had raised me alone. The more I understood, the more I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude.

“It seems both parties have said their piece. Are there any further questions?”

Stefana, clearly believing further discussion to be pointless, swept her gaze around the room. One by one, heads shook.

There were still things I wished to say, but I swallowed them. Like the others, I simply shook my head in silence.

“Then let it be recorded: Autihel’s proposal is deemed meaningless, his supposed consent invalid. No engagement has been established.”

She declared it clearly, then looked around once more for confirmation.

“Lord Keties, I will draft a report on this matter. Please deliver it to the Baron when you return to the capital.”

“Understood. And… regarding the chief’s words earlier?”

At that, the chief jolted, staring at Stefana in alarm.

“There is no need. We all let emotions get the better of us at times.”

“True enough. As long as I don’t have to file any… strange reports next time, I will leave it at that.”

Relief washed visibly over the chief, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted.

The matter of Autihel was now settled.

Yet it was equally true that a rift had been carved between us and the village chief’s family.

I could only pray that my mother’s position would not suffer because of it.

Previous chapter | TOC | Next chapter