Enya narrowed her eyes slightly, frowning as she spoke.
“Where did you run off to?”
There was a hint of reproach in her voice, but Rosily didn’t seem to notice the displeasure at all.
Instead, she ran straight into Enya’s arms, rubbing her little head against the soft chest, then looked up and gave a silly smile with pursed lips.
Seeing her like this, Enya couldn’t help but feel helpless.
After taking the bamboo basket from Rosily’s hands, she finally lifted her gaze to the person standing behind her.
“My lo—”
“Just call me Henna.”
Henna interrupted Enya before she could finish the formal title.
She hadn’t told Rosily she was the Lord of Redpine City—only that she was a knight captain.
Henna looked at the silver-haired woman in front of her, simply dressed in a plain gray long dress.
The loose fit concealed her graceful figure.
Her hair was tied in a bun at the back, with a few strands fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
Her delicate, charming face bore no makeup—only pure, natural beauty.
Bathed in the evening glow, her thin shoulders and neck leaned gently against the head of the small girl, her slender hands and wrists holding the somewhat heavy basket, while the girl’s arms wrapped around her waist.
Those bright, lively eyes gazed up at her with a cheerful smile.
The woman cast a reproachful glance at the girl—chiding her for running around outside.
“Miss Henna?”
“……”
The soft call brought Henna out of her daze, though she still stared at Enya for a moment longer.
After a while, she cleared her throat lightly as a way of responding.
“Hehehe.”
Enya couldn’t help but laugh—a bright and dazzling smile that Henna found difficult to look at directly.
After the laughter, Enya asked tentatively:
“Would Miss Henna like to stay for dinner?”
“C-Can I?”
“Of course you can, but it’s all homemade by me. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all… not at all…”
Henna was uncharacteristically flustered.
Her hand subconsciously reached behind her neck—an old habit she had whenever she felt awkward or embarrassed.
She had tried to break that habit over the years, but it seemed to linger in her subconscious.
Rosily pouted.
She felt like something was kind of… special between her Mama and Sister Henna.
Enya shot Rosily a look, and the girl quickly buried her face into Enya’s chest.
Seeing her daughter acting like an ostrich, Enya could only shake her head in exasperation.
So clever and mischievous at such a young age?
What will she be like in the future!
“What’s that in your hand?”
Her tone was no longer the calm one from earlier—it now sounded more like scolding.
Rosily lifted her face and grinned.
“A rabbit.”
“I know it’s a rabbit, but where did the rabbit come from?”
“I caught it.”
“You… ah, forget it. Come inside first.”
Enya was clearly annoyed.
She had the feeling this little rascal’s personality reminded her of someone.
She invited Henna inside.
As for the coachman… just a single look from Henna had him declining Enya’s invitation at record speed.
And by “declining,” of course, that meant he whipped the reins and bolted off with the carriage.
Enya couldn’t help but marvel.
That’s some fast driving.
Once Henna stepped into the house, she began to look around.
She had given Enya many housing options and thought she would choose one in a nicer neighborhood.
After that day, Henna deliberately avoided bringing Enya up again, and her subordinates also refrained from reporting anything about her—as if they had formed an unspoken agreement to pretend she didn’t exist.
“Is it comfortable living here?”
“It’s pretty good. I like it here—quieter.”
Enya placed the bamboo basket on the table, unwrapped a few containers, set them down, and tasted one.
Then she turned toward Henna.
“Please, sit.”
“Alright.”
Henna really did sit down—and very properly, too.
Enya turned and walked into the kitchen.
By then, Rosily had already tied up the rabbit and hung it on the wall.
She skipped over to the living room, planning to hop up onto the table and wait for dinner—but Enya shot her a look.
Luckily, there was a guest, so Rosily narrowly escaped punishment.
She tiptoed over to the dining table, carefully dragging out a chair without making a sound, and sat down.
She didn’t try to talk to Henna, either.
Her small hands nervously gripped the ragged hem of her dress, not knowing where to put them, occasionally glancing toward her Mama’s back.
The two seated at the table each had their own thoughts, but the one cooking in the kitchen—Enya—was in a very cheerful mood.
She genuinely enjoyed cooking.
Back when she was traveling and training alone, the most satisfying moments were always when she could cook herself a hearty meal.
It was during those days that she honed her cooking skills.
But things were different now.
In the past, no matter how well or poorly she cooked, she’d always be eating alone, holding a bowl in silence…
She finished ladling the last bowl of soup and brought it to the table.
Enya glanced at her daughter—those eyes were glued tightly to the food on the table.
Henna, on the other hand, sat upright and said solemnly:
“Thank you for the meal.”
Enya responded with a soft smile.
She sat beside Rosily, took hold of her small hands, and turned them over.
What had been clean and fair when they left the house were now filthy beyond recognition.
Enya scolded her:
“You’re eating without washing your hands?”
“I’ll go right now!”
Rosily didn’t dare delay.
She immediately ran off to wash up—now was definitely not the time to pour oil on the fire.
Acting fast was the best strategy!
Sitting across from Enya, Henna also looked a bit awkward after hearing that.
Under Enya’s gaze, she slowly stood up and went to wash her hands as well.
Enya blinked, finally realizing what had happened.
She also went to wash her hands—just symbolically.
Once everyone had returned to their seats, dinner began in silence.
Rosily ate with gusto.
Henna, on the other hand, seemed a bit restrained.
Enya ate slowly and gracefully, chewing each bite carefully, and she had a rather small appetite.
After eating only a little, she set down her knife and fork.
After a while, all the food on the table had been eaten.
Rosily was the biggest contributor to that outcome.
Henna seemed a little unsatisfied—she hadn’t enjoyed this kind of small, warm family atmosphere in a very long time.
Though the dinner wasn’t anything lavish, it ended in a way that felt wholesome.
Now came the main event.
Rosily was about to speak to Henna, but Enya gave her a single look, which made her quietly back down.
Enya patted her daughter on the head.
“Be good—head upstairs for now.”
Though clearly reluctant, Rosily still obeyed and went upstairs.
Only when the sound of her room door closing came from above did Enya speak to Henna:
“Sorry I lied to you. Are you angry with me?”
“…No.”
Henna glanced at Enya, then quickly dropped her gaze to the table—she couldn’t bring herself to meet “Mrs. Clorcy’s” eyes directly.
“Hehehe… You really are special.”
“…”
Special?
Did she… did she just say I’m… special…?
Henna looked up.
The silver-haired woman was smiling faintly.
Her body trembled slightly—she didn’t know how to respond.
To Enya, someone like Henna was incredibly rare in this world—a female lord, and such a strange one at that.
The name of the mother is really scary🥲