Lawrence couldn't hear Tommy's voice, of course, but Tommy was grinding his teeth and glaring at him.
(He's really badmouthing…)
Tommy, stop.
Sensing the dangerous aura flaring beside me, I subtly signaled for Tommy to back off.
Tommy wasn't an ordinary ghost.
He'd been with me for over eight years, and ghosts who stay by my side long enough usually gain the ability to interact physically with the living world.
That's why he'd been able to throw candy at Lawrence earlier.
For the past few years, I had endured the glares of the Oblen viscount family without yielding—because this was the place where all my memories of my mother remained.
I couldn't lose that in an instant.
He's just a clueless kid. A kid who believes every lie the viscount tells him!
I knew the truth, so there was no reason to get angry.
Repeating that to myself a few times, I forced a deep breath and finally opened my mouth.
"What did you just say."
I hadn't meant to, but my voice came out chillingly low.
Lawrence flinched, as if realizing that my aura wasn't something you'd expect from an ordinary eight-year-old.
But perhaps feeling humiliated that he was intimidated, he flushed red and yelled louder.
"…I—I'm right! What did I say wrong? Your mom dying like that! My mom said it was punishment for talking back to my dad without a shred of gratitude!"
This little bastard…
Trying to stay calm instantly became pointless. Whatever rationality I had left snapped clean in half.
How much was I supposed to tolerate? Even if I got locked in a storage room for a few days, I had to say what needed to be said.
I pulled up the sweetest, most elegant smile I could muster and said:
"Shut your mouth, Lawrence."
"…What?"
"Close that mouth that doesn't know when to stop babbling. Before I get a needle and thread and sew it shut myself."
For a moment, his jaw hung open in shock.
Then he snapped back and contorted his face.
"You've lost it!"
SMACK—!
Before I could react, my head jerked to the side.
A sharp sting spread across my cheek.
I laughed dryly inside.
Perfect. Now I can hit him in self-defense and no one can complain. It's all in the Imperial Penal Code—self-defense.
Since things had come to this, I wouldn't feel satisfied unless I got at least one good punch into his gut before being dragged off.
I steeled myself, narrowed my eyes, and was just about to swing—
You insane little brat—how dare you raise your hand against her!
A voice only I could hear thundered through my ears.
And then, slowly entering my field of vision, I saw Tommy—his eyes blazing red—stretch both arms out and shove Lawrence hard in the shoulders.
"Huh…?"
Lawrence felt his body tilt into empty air and widened his eyes in terror.
I realized what was happening a heartbeat too late and reached out frantically.
"Lawrence! Grab my hand!"
But the tips of his fingers only brushed mine lightly before slipping away.
THUD! THUMP! CRASH!
With a series of heavy crashes, Lawrence tumbled down several steps and finally hit the first floor in a crumpled heap.
"What was that noise!"
Footsteps pounded toward us. Much louder than before—several servants were rushing over.
"Lawrence! My baby!"
"What on earth happened!"
Voices of panicked servants mixed with the shrill voices of Carlotta and the viscount.
Pale as a sheet, I stared down at the scene below and thought:
"Teresia Oblen! Get down here this instant!"
…Ah. I'm so screwed…
For the next several days, the viscount's manor didn't know a moment of peace.
Even with three doctors coming and going, Lawrence still hadn't regained consciousness.
Every time the viscount visited him, Carlotta would cling to him and scream that he had to punish me.
After that day, I was more or less confined to my room, and it was the ghosts—including Tommy—who brought me updates.
Tommy fiddled nervously with his fingers as he told me Carlotta had cried so hysterically for days that she eventually fainted.
Uh… hey…
"What."
…Are you mad?
In a timid voice completely unlike him, Tommy stole a glance at my expression before looking away.
"…Sigh."
I had been pretending to sulk on purpose these past few days, but in the end, I relaxed my expression and let out a sigh.
Well, what's done is done.
Thinking about it differently—maybe it was for the best.
If Tommy hadn't shoved Lawrence, I might really have returned with a needle and thread and gone after him myself.
Being locked up for a week is nothing. I'm used to it.
The viscount couldn't fully cast me out anyway.
The current Viscount Oblen had only become a noble through marriage to my mother, Iphea Oblen, and his bloodline lacked legitimacy.
It wasn't unheard of for nobles to register an illegitimate child, but getting approval from the temple and the imperial family was extremely difficult.
So on paper, the only legitimate heir of the Oblen viscountcy… was me.
If I suddenly died or disappeared, the surrounding nobles would definitely pounce, desperate to swallow the viscountcy.
Thus, the viscount would continue pretending I didn't exist—just as he always had. That was less troublesome for him than enduring attacks from all directions.
…Well, if Lawrence had been registered as legitimate, things would be different, but he wasn't. Not yet.
After sorting out my thoughts, I nudged Tommy's shoulder and smiled.
"It's fine. I'm not mad anymore."
…Really? Really really?
"Yeah. Really, really. Thanks for getting angry for me."
Hehe.
As if he'd never been sulking, Tommy's smile bloomed the moment I smiled at him.
Honestly, I couldn't ever stay mad at him. That thought made me smile wider in return.
Just then, heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs, and the door burst open without warning.
For the first time in three days, the door opened to reveal the viscount's cold, rigid face.
"Teresia Oblen. Come with me."
…Uh-oh. This feels bad.
I was dragged by the viscount down to the first-floor parlor.
Sitting across from me on the sofa, he tossed a stack of papers onto the table and jerked his chin.
"Read."
A strange sense of dread had been prickling at my throat since earlier, and I didn't want to obey—but I had no choice.
Suppressing the instinctive revulsion, I slowly reached out and picked up the papers.
And the moment I read the title on the first page—
"Parental Rights Termination and Adoption Agreement"
—I genuinely wondered if my eyes were malfunctioning.
"What is… this?"
"Your adoption agreement."
The viscount kindly delivered the final blow before I could even process what I had read.
"I've registered Lawrence in the family, so there's no need for you here anymore. You've heard, haven't you? The Aberdeen ducal house is looking for an heir."
At those words, I reflexively tore my gaze from the paper and snapped my head up.
The name Aberdeen ducal house pressed sharply into my consciousness.
I'd barely left the manor since birth, but even I had heard that name.
And even more so because, on a sleepless night long ago, Tommy had described it to me in vivid detail.
The House of Aberdeen—
Also known as the Ghost Duke's House.
Five years ago.
In an attempt to curb the power of Duke Aberdeen, the emperor had sent him to the battlefield. But when the duke returned with victory after victory, earning growing renown, the emperor grew spiteful.
So he issued a cruel order:
"Exterminate the Mortia tribe."
He commanded Duke Aberdeen to wipe out the Mortia—those who lived in the forest along the western border and were said to commune with the dead, guiding their souls to rest.
The public justification was that the Mortia were "a wicked group who manipulated corrupt spirits to bewitch imperial citizens."
A disturbing command to kill people who could speak with the dead.
But disobeying an imperial command meant treason.
So Duke Aberdeen and his knights quietly drew their swords.