Chapter 25 : Really Can’t Say No to You

Enya gently rested her hand on the back of Rosily’s head, stroking her soft hair, gazing at her daughter with affectionate eyes.

“Alright, alright. Just look at how dirty you’ve gotten. You’re all sweaty and rubbing it all over Mama, and your clothes are in tatters because of you, Rosily.”

But Rosily still refused to let go, clinging tightly to her.

Enya had no choice but to set down what she was holding, lean over, and wrap her arms around Rosily, lifting her into a cradle hold.

Only then did Rosily finally loosen her grip.

Still, she quickly hooked her arms around Enya’s neck again.

She loved leaning against Enya—it was a source of comfort.

Enya’s scent made her feel safe.

Maybe it was because, during her time inside the egg, Rosily had almost failed to come into this world.

That near-loss left her subconsciously terrified of being abandoned, making her especially dependent on Enya.

“Time to wash up and go to sleep.”

“Mama, I want a bedtime story.”

“Alright.”

“Mama, I want an adventure one.”

“Okay, okay.”

Carrying her to the bathroom, Enya replied patiently as they spoke.

After placing Rosily in the bathroom, she went to boil water.

Using magic to heat the water didn’t take long.

She fetched a nightgown while everything was being prepared.

Rosily sat idly on a little stool, bored as she waited.

Enya brought in the hot water, pouring bucket after bucket into the large wooden tub, white steam rising into the air.

The young girl undressed and stepped into the water.

About half an hour later, a sweet-smelling little Rosily was carried upstairs by Enya and laid gently onto the bed in the second-floor bedroom.

After covering her with a thin quilt, Enya got back to her tasks.

Not long after, she changed into a creamy-white nightgown matching Rosily’s and entered the bedroom again with a thick storybook in hand.

As soon as she sat down by the bed, Rosily scooted over to make room.

Enya had no choice but to sit on the bed.

Because of her tail, she couldn’t sit upright comfortably and had to lean sideways against the headboard.

Rosily rested her head directly on the soft mound of Enya’s chest, her little mouth curved up at both corners, clearly delighted in a way words couldn’t express.

This made Enya laugh.

Was it really that exciting?

Flipping open the book, Enya began recounting the story of her own youthful adventures.

These tales were far more thrilling than ordinary storybooks.

The book she brought from the “library” also had real images she’d once seen—though they had been somewhat censored or edited.

She told Rosily how, after first parting ways with Vivienne, she was scammed out of her money and left penniless, then mocked and ridiculed at her first visit to the Adventurer’s Guild.

She spoke of how a local playboy noble pestered her endlessly.

After being rejected, that man resorted to underhanded means.

He hired a group of thugs to set a trap.

They tricked Enya into accepting a quest to gather herbs, and once she was in the mountains, they ambushed her, trying to capture her.

Enya had nearly become the heroine of a lewd tale—but she got lucky and escaped.

That harrowing experience was what truly opened her eyes to the harshness of this world.

This heavy tale continued until the part where she jumped off a cliff into the river, seriously injured and with pursuers still behind her.

In the midst of that desperate situation, she found the tiniest sliver of hope and managed to turn the tables by using a magical beast to defeat her attackers.

As Rosily listened intently and heard that the girl in the story had escaped danger, she finally let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s getting late. Let’s stop here for tonight.”

Enya closed the book, intending to get off the bed—but Rosily immediately flopped down on her lap.

“Nooo, I want more!”

Rosily clearly didn’t want the story to end here.

Even though the girl in the story had fought off the mercenaries, the villain who orchestrated everything hadn’t been punished yet.

And now she’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out?

But no matter how much her daughter pouted, Enya stuck to her decision.

She needed to return to her own room.

Rosily puffed up her cheeks in protest, her orange-red eyes pleading as she looked at Enya.

“What’s wrong?”

Enya was puzzled.

She’d already told the bedtime story, hadn’t she?

She softened her voice and asked, but Rosily just kept staring at her.

After thinking for a moment, Enya finally understood what her daughter meant.

The child still couldn’t sleep without her in her arms.

Enya reached out and pinched those chubby little cheeks.

“Alright, I won’t go. You really leave me with no choice.”

…

Late at night, Henna was still sitting alone in her study.

The entire room was empty and quiet, and even the whole castle felt oppressively still.

In front of her was an easel, and in her hands, a brush and a palette of paints.

Henna had been sitting there for a long time, yet she hadn’t made a single stroke on the blank canvas.

She just stared at the empty surface in a daze, seemingly lost in thought.

No one knew how much time passed before Henna finally tapped her brush against the paper—her first stroke.

But after taking that first step, she didn’t know how to take the second.

“Phew…”

She let out a long sigh and set the brush and palette down on a nearby chair.

Then, she covered her face with both hands.

After a while, Henna took the half-touched paper from the easel and tossed it casually to the ground.

She slowly stood and walked toward the desk.

The floor was already littered with thick layers of discarded papers—some with rough sketches, some completely blank—all carelessly stepped over as she passed.

Henna picked up a teacup from the desk.

Inside was a crimson liquid.

After taking a sip, her mental state visibly improved.

She leaned against the desk, sitting down and turning her head toward the wall.

There, hanging on the wall, was a painting.

It depicted a girl around fifteen or sixteen years old, with silver hair tied in a ponytail, holding a plain sword.

The girl in the painting looked back over her shoulder—gazing out at Henna.

“I…”

Henna rubbed her eyes.

For a moment, she thought the silver-haired swordmaiden in the painting had become a single mother.

But in the blink of an eye, the image returned to normal.

“Even though they both have silver hair, nothing else matches… How could Miss Phil possibly be her? Sigh… What am I thinking? Am I really trying to use Miss Phil as a substitute?”

“When did I start thinking this way?”

Maybe from the moment she first met Miss Phil?

Henna let out a silent, self-deprecating laugh.

To many people, the position of Redpine City’s Lady Lord seemed far beyond reach.

But to Henna, even as a lord, she felt powerless against the tides of history.

She had to cling to someone like Vivienne just to avoid being swept away.

She adjusted her mindset and reexamined her feelings toward Miss Phil.

Then, Henna realized—she might truly have fallen for a woman.

And not just any woman—but one who already had a child…

Henna liked the atmosphere in Miss Phil’s home.

She longed to be part of that peaceful world.

But… would Miss Phil accept her?

Henna wrestled with her thoughts until dawn broke.

…

Morning.

Rosily groggily opened her eyes to find Enya was no longer beside her.

She instantly snapped awake, slipped on her shoes, and ran downstairs.

Sure enough, she saw Enya pressing a rabbit into a basin with one hand, while holding a knife in the other.

The blade was already pressed against the rabbit’s neck.

Had Rosily woken up just a little later, today’s breakfast would’ve included meat.

Enya glanced at Rosily, then down at the rabbit in her hand.

“Rosily, do you want to keep it?”

“Does rabbit taste good?”

Rosily, eyes wide, stared at the rabbit and asked that unexpected question.