Cassdia Argent's eyes flashed so sharply I could almost hear the crackle.
But it was over in an instant.
Even having just witnessed it myself, her shift in demeanor was so quick and cunning that I nearly doubted what I'd seen.
"Ha ha, whatever do you mean? As if there were anything I couldn't say in front of the young master."
The way she covered her mouth and laughed so demurely was elegant enough to prove she was a lady of noble birth through and through—but the eyes watching her didn't soften one bit.
So that's how you want to play this.
There was no benefit in picking at this further.
Because the woman before me was a member of House Rosmos—a family that, even within the imperial palace, would take offense at being called anything less than second to none in politics and reading the room.
Rotten as they might be, they're still the genuine article, and once you factored in that bloodline, the eel-like maneuvering Cassdia Argent displayed in the original story was beyond imagination.
Trying to catch her out with anything less than solid proof would likely end with me getting bitten instead.
"Ah, forgive me, Sister-in-law. Since you tried to whisk away my conversation partner without so much as asking, I suppose I got a little sulky without realizing it."
"That's quite understandable. Though I must say, for a gentleman well past his coming-of-age to pout so—who knew the young master had such an adorable side?"
"Adorable? Hardly. Just the petulance of an immature man."
"You know, women sometimes find such immature qualities rather endearing—almost maternal."
"I see. I've learned something today."
I bowed my head with a pleasant smile, and Cassdia looked me over from head to toe, as if gauging my attitude.
"By the way, I hadn't realized the young master cared so much for our Lyriette. It's been nearly two years since you've seen each other, and yet there seems to be no awkwardness at all."
"My niece has such a kind nature, and impeccable manners besides. Between an uncle and his niece, what does a little time matter?"
"How true. I was being foolish."
Having tossed out that remark as if to test the waters of my relationship with Lyriette, she stepped aside and moved toward her.
"……"
Only then did she seem to notice the doll cradled in Lyriette's arms.
How little interest could you have in your own child to only just now notice something that large—but regardless, she examined the doll with a look that was anything but pleased.
"Where did this doll come from, Lyriette?"
"I gave it to her as a token of thanks."
"You did, young master? A token of thanks, you say...?"
"Laughable as it sounds, at my age I've developed a bit of an interest in dolls."
"The young master... interested in dolls?"
Cassdia glanced back and forth between the doll and me with clear distrust. So, as if to say *see for yourself*, I pulled the teddy bear out of my subspace pocket as evidence.
"Yes, this is my new friend, chosen by my niece herself. My workshop needed a new companion piece, and I thought she, of all people, would know best, so I asked for her help."
"I—I see. What a charmingly whimsical hobby you have. I never knew."
Fan spread wide in her hand, she forced a smile with a voice thick with obvious embarrassment—and somehow, it was enough to ease a knot of old resentment in my chest.
Of course you never knew.
Even I didn't know I had this hobby until recently.
"Once I left the main house, I no longer had to worry about others' opinions. Of course, I doubt there's anyone foolish enough these days to belittle or look down on a man simply for enjoying dolls."
I said it deliberately, narrowing my eyes just slightly, as if speaking to no one in particular—and Cassdia's hand trembled faintly around her fan as she cleared her throat.
"Ahem! Y-yes, quite right. Personal taste ought to be respected, after all."
"Oh? You feel the same way, Sister-in-law? I knew you were a woman of enlightened thinking."
Well, perhaps that's enough sparring for now.
I'd landed my hits fairly one-sidedly, so I was satisfied. And it wasn't exactly a good scene for a child to witness for too long, either.
"Well then, I shall spend some time enjoying my niece's company after so long apart. My apologies, but unless it's urgent, please wait to summon her until after I've left."
"…Very well. Lyriette."
"Y-yes, Mother."
Lyriette, who had been watching us blankly, straightened her back at once—her posture snapping into place like a private standing before a company commander. No, more like a private before a division general.
Tch. However much had this child been pressured to end up like that.
"When your uncle leaves, this mother will come to see you herself, so wait quietly in your room."
"Understood, Mother."
Wow—was she saying she'd come herself because she was afraid Lyriette wouldn't come if summoned?
As far as I recalled, even in the original story, the number of times Cassdia visited Lyriette's room was vanishingly small.
No—perhaps there was another motive.
And one of those motives, with high probability, was that doll.
Even in the original story, this madwoman had burned her own daughter's doll to ash right before her eyes—a doll Lyriette had scraped together coin by coin to buy.
Perhaps even now, the sight of Lyriette hugging the doll with such a happy expression was so distasteful to her that she was gritting her teeth, ready to dispose of it the moment I left.
"This should be interesting."
"Hm? Uncle, what did you say?"
"Nothing at all."
Try it, if you dare.
***
Since I'd already eaten out, the remaining time was entirely free to spend on Lyriette. I used it to carry out what I privately called "Operation: Make My Niece Worship Her Uncle."
Put that way, I sound like some petty schemer angling for his niece's flattery, but that wasn't really the intent.
More precisely, it was about closing the distance between us.
Kids this age, after all, naturally close the gap with adults they consider impressive.
It's the same principle as when you're little and your dad seems like Superman who can do anything, so you cling to him—but then puberty hits, you realize Dad can't actually do everything, and slowly the distance grows as you start thinking he doesn't know anything.
So what I did was simple.
I called in every connection I possibly could.
Children, surprisingly, tend to be indifferent to money.
Bragging about wealth doesn't really land with them.
But say, for example, you're a fan of some idol, and it turns out your uncle happens to be that idol's friend or acquaintance.
Hearts would practically shoot out of your eyes.
My dear niece was no exception to that rule.
"Wow, then have you met the Sword Saint too, Uncle?"
"Well, he is my master's close friend, so yes, we're somewhat acquainted. We've even shared a drink together."
Honestly, I felt a slight pang of conscience name-dropping my master's friend like that, but—what could I do?
I'd lived a decent enough life to earn a good master.
And a good master naturally has good people around him.
So I decided to be shameless about it here.
That little twinge of conscience was nothing compared to getting close with Lyriette.
Besides—
*In the original story, Lyriette had admired the Sword Saint quite a bit, too.*
The reason I'd bothered dropping the Sword Saint's name was that he was quite closely tied to Lyriette's story.
Though admittedly, thanks to a certain character named Leon, that connection tends to get overshadowed.
Because in the original novel, Lyriette was a character who was remarkably devoted to the sword.
At first, it began as something half-forced upon her by the family's demands. But ironically, since it was the only thing she'd ever learned growing up, she ended up growing obsessed with it.
And the funny thing was, this very trait was what caused her first meeting with Leon to go so wrong.
Because Leon was the one chosen first as the disciple of Oden Craig, the Sword Saint known as the Empire's Greatest Blade.
Judging purely by skill at the time, Lyriette had clearly been superior—she'd even won against him in their mock duel—so she never doubted for a moment that she would be the one taken in as his disciple.
But Oden, having seen through the Star's Blessing that Leon was born with, launched into a long speech and took Leon on as his disciple instead.
Even then, Lyriette had carried her own Star's Blessing—Sword's Yearning—within her, but since it had no target yet to manifest toward, it hadn't caught Oden's eye.
Thanks to this, readers often joked that if Oden had taken Lyriette as his disciple back then, the object of her Sword's Yearning would have ended up being Oden himself.
"Now that you mention it, Uncle's own master is..."
"That's right. Lord Godwin Rowell."
Godwin Rowell.
My master, and currently the sole 8th Circle mage across the entire continent—a man standing at the very pinnacle.
Ordinarily, he just seemed like some neighborhood old man who did nothing but drink.
But when it came to magic, he was a perfectionist who wouldn't yield an inch, and becoming his disciple had been an absolute ordeal.
No, "disciple" is too generous a word for what I was back then.
I was basically an errand boy, a glorified gofer.
Fetching liquor whenever he ran short.
Cleaning his dust-choked workshop in his place.
After a hundred straight days of that, he finally accepted me.
And this was even though, by then, I'd already reached the 6th Circle at a young age and had built up a fair bit of renown as a promising young mage in my own right.
Well, I suppose to that old man, everyone falls short.
The man himself had reached the 8th Circle at the age of thirty—a genius disaster the likes of which the continent had never seen before or since.
"Truly, behind every great person stands an even greater master."
"Not quite. I still have a long way to go before I can match my master's renown."
"No, that's not true. I'm certain that someday, Uncle, you'll become a great mage who won't fall behind Lord Rowell at all."
"Ha ha, thank you. Hearing my dear niece cheer me on gives me strength."
Whatever am I to do with this adorable niece of mine.
When she clenched her tiny fists together, striking a pose as if cheering me on, my heart very nearly stopped.
"If the chance ever arises, I'll try to arrange a meeting with Lord Oden for you."
"What? M-me, with the Sword Saint?"
"Yes. Though I can't promise anything for certain."
For my niece's sake, I was confident I could even take down a dragon.
Unfortunately, Oden—that man—was worse than any dragon.
It was said that even when the Emperor himself once ordered Oden to take his own child as a disciple, Oden had nearly killed himself in protest rather than accept a candidate he found unworthy, imperial decree or not.
In other words, the odds of my little arrangement falling through were quite high.
But I had a certain measure of confidence.
*Because that old geezer had said it himself, after all.*
In the original story, when Oden took Leon on as his disciple, he'd said something in front of a despairing Lyriette.
Something along the lines of: if he had discovered her before Leon, he certainly would have taken her as his disciple instead.
Ironically, those words had only cut Lyriette deeper at the time. But the important thing was that Oden wasn't the type of man to offer empty comfort with words he didn't mean.
Which meant that if I brought the two of them together now, before Lyriette had ever met Leon, there was a real possibility.
Well, it was a bit unfortunate for Leon.
But naturally, my niece came before the protagonist of some original story.
Besides, if he's truly the protagonist, surely he won't end up floundering just because he missed out on one master.
Wherever he goes, he'll earn his keep one way or another.
"Still, don't get your hopes up too much. If it does work out, I'll come let you know. Understood?"
"Yes! I'll wait without hoping too much."
"Pfft."
Saying that with an expression already brimming with expectation rather undercut her own words.
But well, she was adorable, so it hardly mattered.
Cuteness is truth, after all.
Even a renowned scholar has said as much.
Who said that, you ask?
Me.
I suppose I qualify as a renowned scholar myself, more or less.
And so, without settling on any particular topic, we continued our idle chatter, meant simply to build rapport with Lyriette.
Shhrk.
"Huh? Uncle, something just—kyaa?!"
Suddenly, a black shape shot out from within my robes and leapt into the air, startling Lyriette so badly she nearly toppled backward.
Thankfully, I caught her in time, so no real harm was done.
But more importantly, that thing was—
*—You wretched disciple! Just when I heard you'd finally reached the 7th Circle, this heavenly master of yours traveled such a long distance, only to find the workshop empty while you go traipsing about, slacking off!*
The moment that furious old voice erupted from the tiny, fluttering creature, I finally understood the situation.
Are you kidding me. That old geezer had actually planted one of those things on me?
What was he, some kind of stalker?
"U-uncle. What is that?"
"It's called a familiar—a type of summoned creature mages commonly employ. This particular one is a Cyclo, a familiar specialized in surveillance and information gathering."
"Surveillance? Does that mean it's been watching you this whole time, Uncle?"
"That would be about right."
"……"
At my words, Lyriette's lips pursed for some reason.
Then, glancing around, she suddenly grabbed the wooden practice sword lying beside her bed and—
Swish! Swish!
"Hyah! Hyah!"
"…Hm?"
She began swinging it at the Cyclo with an adorably fierce battle cry.
Adorable battle cry aside, the blood of a prestigious swordsman's family didn't lie—she moved with impressive speed, trying to knock the swiftly darting Cyclo out of the air.
But that Cyclo was no ordinary familiar.
It was a watcher planted by that old man himself.
Even with decent swordsmanship, keeping up with its speed was a struggle.
"Huff, huff...!"
"Calm down. What's suddenly gotten into you?"
Eventually, having worn herself out, Lyriette gasped for breath, and I finally managed to calm her down enough to ask what had happened.
She pointed at the Cyclo with an oddly sullen expression.
"But... I don't know who put it there, but that awful thing was secretly watching you, Uncle."
"……"
Huh.
Wait, did Lyriette not hear what the Cyclo shouted earlier?
*Ah, must have been a telepathic spell.*
That old man's voice had rung out so thunderously that I must have mistaken it for something audible to everyone. Apparently, to avoid startling the people around me, he'd layered a telepathy spell on top of it.
Goodness, how considerate of him.
If only he'd used half that consideration to avoid startling my poor niece instead.
"Sweetheart. Actually, that familiar was placed there by my master."
"What? Your master, you mean...?"
"Yes. Lord Godwin, the one I mentioned earlier. He must have dropped by the workshop to congratulate me on reaching the 7th Circle, and since I wasn't there, he contacted me through that instead."
After I'd kindly explained everything, Lyriette—who had been listening quietly—
"……Myah."
Plop.
She let out a sound more befitting a kitten and collapsed limply right where she stood.
I'd wondered what my niece ate to be so adorable.
Turns out she was secretly a cat all along.
And here I never even knew.
"Tsk."
With no other choice, I laid the fallen Lyriette down on her bed.
Just in case, I cast a healing spell over her, then quietly slipped out of the room.
It was about time for me to head back, but leaving without even saying goodbye still left a lingering pang of regret.
"Gilbert."
"Yes, young master. What is it?"
"Well, you see..."
On my way out, I made sure not to forget to leave word with Gilbert.
After all, I could easily be misunderstood as having done something untoward.
Thankfully, Gilbert trusted me without question.
It probably helped that during my time living at the main house, I'd been nothing but a bookworm who never once got up to any mischief.