As I stacked the dishes from the gazebo onto the tray, I stole a glance at Lord Rein.
He wore a look of helpless amusement, pinned down by Lady Liese and Lady Rose. Liese clung to his right arm while Rose leaned against his left; both had fallen fast asleep. Lady Heide gave a small chuckle and said, “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”
My five-year-old master simply replied with a quiet “Yeah,” and remained still.
It was a heartwarming sight. As I stacked the plates and lined up the cups on the tray, my mind drifted back to the day I first arrived at this manor.
I was born the third daughter of the House of Baron Down. I have two older sisters.
The eldest and the second-born were close in age, and they had already begun receiving lessons from my mother on how to become proper ladies. As for me, the third daughter, I was summoned to my father’s study during my eighth summer and told this:
“It has been decided that you will serve the House of Count Werl. Do your duty well, so as not to bring shame upon the name of the Down family.”
The House of Baron Down is a rear-vassal to the House of Count Werl. Going into service was a duty to the family; there was no option to refuse. My father spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world and added nothing more.
My mother spoke of things with a bit more romance.
“The Count has sons, you know. If you manage to catch his eye—well, being the primary wife is out of the question, and I suppose it’s a bit premature, but still...”
In short, she meant there was a possibility of marrying into a higher station. At eight years old, the prospect didn't feel real; the anxiety of leaving home for the first time was far greater.
On the day I packed my bags, my mother combed my hair with great care. She tied my long blue-grey hair back and said, “Off you go.” I didn’t cry. I felt that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave at all.
The House of Count Werl was a much warmer place than I had imagined.
The head of the house, Lord Wilhelm, is a gentle man. He is polite even to the servants, offering a brief greeting whenever we pass in the hallways. At first, that alone made me so nervous I would freeze like a statue, but I soon grew used to it.
I was intimidated by the First Wife, Lady Roswitha, at first. She is a woman who never slacks and always keeps her back perfectly straight. However, she is never unreasonable. If you do your work properly, she makes sure to notice. Since it was always clear what she expected of me, it was actually quite comfortable to work for her.
The Second Wife, Lady Sophie, is laid-back and told me with a smile, “You can take your time to learn,” when I was stiff with nerves. If she hadn’t said that, I think my first week would have been much more difficult. Apparently, she and Lady Roswitha have been close friends since their days at the Academy. It is remarkably rare for a noble household to have a First and Second Wife who get along so well.
The senior maids were strict. But they were also nurturing; they would scold me when I fumbled as an apprentice, but they always made sure to teach me the correct way afterward.
Since my family rank is near the bottom of the nobility, I had prepared myself to be treated coldly. In reality, it was a place where your hard work was always recognized.
In the midst of all that, I was assigned to be Lord Rein’s attendant.
The caretaker of the Count’s second son. To be honest, I was terrified when I heard the news. I thought of nothing but what would happen if I made a mistake.
The Lord Rein I actually met was—well, he was startlingly adorable. He had soft chestnut hair and pale green eyes. If I hadn't been told he was a boy, I would have been certain he was a girl.
At three years old, the young master was innocent and cheerful; he laughed constantly, played hard, and took many tumbles. He would run around the garden, scrape his knees, and cry out, “It hurts!” But as soon as I treated the wound, he’d say, “I’m okay now!” and dash off again. Even his little habits were precious. It felt almost unfair how cute he was.
I had imagined a difficult, haughty child, so I was completely taken aback. He wasn’t arrogant in the least and treated even me, the daughter of a mere Baron, without any discrimination. It might have just been that he didn't understand social status yet, but it made me happy regardless.
When he called me “Mira” for the first time, my heart gave an involuntary squeeze. When I realized that protecting this child was my job, I felt a sudden surge of motivation.
During the winter when Lord Rein was four, he fell ill with an epidemic.
It was a cruel disease that struck children especially hard, and many had died throughout the territory. A heavy tension hung over the entire manor.
The night of the third day was the most terrifying. Lady Roswitha didn't leave Lord Rein’s room for a single moment. The hallways were deathly silent, and no one dared to speak of the possibility that he might not recover.
When I heard his fever had finally broken on the morning of the fourth day, the strength left my knees and I slumped down in the hallway. I was so relieved that tears started falling, and they wouldn't stop.
The Lord Rein who recovered was a little different from before.
He still laughs, he still plays, and he still acts spoiled sometimes. That part is the same. His innocence remains intact.
But something at his core has shifted.
The best way to describe it is that he has become remarkably rational. He stopped being selfish. Even when something unpleasant happens, he doesn't pout or fuss. He gives his snacks to his younger twin sisters, and if told he cannot do something, he accepts it immediately. It’s hard to believe a four-year-old could be so composed.
That trend has continued now that he is five. If anything, it has grown stronger.
Even today, he stood in the kitchen himself to make sweets to serve to his family. And even when Lady Liese and Lady Rose fell asleep clinging to his arms, he stayed perfectly still without a single complaint. It’s simply not how one expects a five-year-old to behave.
Then there is the matter of that mysterious sweet. Lord Rein said, “I made too many while testing the recipe,” and secretly shared some with the kitchen staff and us maids. Despite being called a prototype, it was perfectly baked—fluffy and soft, with a pleasant crunch from the nuts and the gentle sweetness of honey. It was a delicacy unlike anything I had ever tasted. The Head Chef initially intended to just play along with what he thought was a child's game, but he was stunned by the result. When he asked how the master had come up with it, the boy simply said he “saw it in a dream.” The kitchen is still buzzing with the story; they say the sheer creativity for a five-year-old is incredible.
An adorable appearance, a kind heart, a rational intellect, and a level of imagination that surprises adults... My young master truly is special.
I wonder what kind of man he will grow up to be. With those looks, he is bound to be handsome. And with his gentle, level-headed nature...
Suddenly, my mother’s words flashed through my mind again.
“The Count has sons, you know. If you manage to catch his eye—”
No, no, no! What am I thinking? He is a five-year-old boy! My face felt like it was on fire.
While it's easier to look after him now that he's so independent, I have to admit, I feel a little lonely. I wouldn't mind if he relied on me just a bit more.
Holding the tray, I looked back toward the gazebo.
Lady Sophie had arrived. She must have come to check on them after hearing the twins had fallen asleep. With practiced hands, she gently lifted Lady Liese. Liese clung to her mother's neck, mumbling in her sleep. Lady Heide picked up Lady Rose, and the two of them carried the girls away.
Lord Rein stretched his cramped limbs and let out a small sigh of relief.
“Mira, thank you. I’ll help you clean up.”
“No, please, Lord Rein. Leave everything to me.”
The House of Count Werl is a wonderful place.
The Master is gentle, the Ladies are strict but fair, and the children are vibrant and close-knit. And my master is a slightly mysterious, very adorable five-year-old boy.
I have no complaints at all. I truly wish these days could last forever.
As I walked away from the gazebo, I held that thought close to my heart.