I Possessed As A Childcare Extra Chapter 12

How was a maid supposed to let go of the master’s hand first—without offending him?

It was a difficult question, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. A maid holding the young master’s hand—four years her junior—and gulping dryly would surely cause terrible misunderstandings.

“Ahem… k-hrm…”

“……”

“Um, young master… just a moment.”

“……”

“It’s just that… the hand…”

“……”

“I need to tidy the bed, so…”

Under the flickering shadows of the fireplace and lantern, Narkis’s expression looked oddly sulky.

What. Why. It wasn’t like I wanted to say it out loud either.

“It’s already tidy.”

Narkis let go first and slid under the covers. Still wrapped in my shawl. The way he slipped in almost looked ghostly.

“I’ll bring a wet towel.”

“No. Stay here.”

He turned on his side and fixed his gaze on me.

“You said you’d stay.”

That… had been a joke.

“Then, um…”

“Don’t run away.”

He cut me off the moment I tried to speak. As if I could run away in this situation.

“That’s not it… may I sit in a chair?”

“……”

“……”

Was he offended?

“…Do as you want.”

Narkis muttered after a long pause. For a moment, he actually looked a bit like a boy his age.

I wanted to get away from the Narkis who’d grabbed my chin like I was a sewer rat, who’d spilled tea on the carpet.

Being threatened with death earlier had only sapped my motivation. Who threatens to kill someone while looking like that?

Shaky at the sight of weakness—that was exactly the extra I was. A protagonist would stay focused and act according to plan. Like the young lady pulling off elaborate schemes to deceive the entire Tricen household and their staff.

No need for me to feel inferior.

Only extras get to disappear from the stage entirely.

I dragged a console chair to the bedside and sat down—only to meet a pair of deep red eyes. Narkis tracked my every move with his gaze.

“If you want to sleep, shouldn’t you close your eyes?”

“You’ve been ordering me around for a while now.”

“Me? Ordering you, young master? Of course not.”

“You don’t give in even for a moment.”

He remembered the conversation we’d had a few days ago. If you could call that a conversation.

“You told me to answer you properly.”

Not talk back—but to listen and respond appropriately to the person I was serving. Yet Narkis didn’t nitpick like before.

“You used to be afraid of me.”

True. I’d tried my hardest to avoid getting involved with him, and that was exactly why I’d been caught.

Which was why I’d vowed to leave completely.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You wanted me to fear you.

Narkis lowered his eyes and answered.

“No.”

…No?

“It wasn’t.”

Then why act like a psycho?

“You looked afraid… but you aren’t.”

Only then did I understand. He meant I didn’t fear him.

Strange. I was very afraid.

I had no idea whether he wanted me to fear him or not.

“I’ll do whatever you prefer, young master.”

All I had to do was follow orders. If he wanted fear, I would grovel.

…What if he torments me even more?

“If you want me not to fear you, then I won’t.”

Narkis snorted softly.

“You say you’ll do as I want, yet you also tell me what you want.”

How was I supposed to spin that?

“Well… I’m poorly educated.”

Narkis blinked twice before answering.

“Then you won’t get promoted.”

It was true that commoner servants had a hard time being promoted—serving the upper class required etiquette and scholarly knowledge.

But I didn’t care enough to fight for it. I was already living desperately as it was.

“One should know her place. I’m terrible at studying… that kind of thing is for someone like you, young master.”

Not my business at all.

Narkis asked innocently:

“What is?”

I couldn’t exactly say ‘studying.’

“Becoming a good… duke?”

Though who knew what kind of duke he’d become under Aeon’s influence.

“Because I’m the duke’s eldest son?”

I had just been thinking how childish he seemed when it hit me.

He was fifteen.

Teenagers needed gentle handling. The northern duke would never do it, so I might as well try.

“You’re born carrying your fate, but in the end, you live your life alone.”

It was hard to find the right words for an heir.

“You should live as you wish, young master.”

Oh no. That sounded like ‘Do whatever the hell you want.’

“No, I mean—live as your heart guides you…”

“Is that how you spoke to Edel too?”

“Ah…”

I had told the young lady to live as she wanted. Even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to.

“You did well.”

“…Pardon?”

Narkis was praising me?

“A maid with the nerve to talk back.”

“Ah…”

Of course. But before I could apologize, he continued.

“She’ll understand. She’s not like me.”

His flat tone sounded emotionless.

But not like me, he said.

The young lady wasn’t like anyone in Tricen. Naturally so, for reasons only I knew.

“You didn’t cast me out either, young master.”

The words slipped out.

Instead of saying that the young lady, born here, and he, born here, differed for obvious reasons…

“You and the young lady seem alike. You must really be siblings.”

Why was I comforting him?

What did I think was so pretty? That this awful boy needed comforting?

“…Ridiculous.”

See? I knew he’d be—wait.

Why did this feel familiar?

No—why did it feel exactly the same?

‘Ow!’

‘…You’re smiling.’

No way.

Surely not. Surely he wasn’t imitating that.

Impossible. Let’s drop it.

“You won’t stop chattering. I can’t sleep.”

He had stirred up all my thoughts, and suddenly he was complaining. He was the one ignoring my advice to close his eyes.

“I’ll be quiet now.”

His straight shoulders rose and fell slowly. The worn shawl wrapped around him didn’t suit the luxury bedding. Was he really not going to return that?

“Stay exactly there. Don’t run.”

Why did he keep insisting I’d run? Was he a clingy male lead or something?

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His breathing soon became steady.

Finding Narkis in the cleaning cabinet felt like a dream.

I didn’t know what scared him so much that he hid in that cramped space—what tormented him enough for his body to tremble like that.

“Good night, young master.”

I hoped he would finally sleep comfortably.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

Ah—right. Holly!

I only remembered after I left the room once Narkis had fallen asleep.

More precisely, when I ran into Holly sobbing into the arms of a patrol guard.

“She’s gone! She’s gone! She was definitely taken by the ghost! Uwaaaaah…!”

“I understand, so calm down—no, wait, isn’t that her over there?”

“Calm…? CALM? You want me to calm down when my family disappeared…?!”

Her poodle-like reddish-brown curls whipped around.

Her tear-streaked, wide-open eyes met mine.

This… felt like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Aaaannieeee!”

Holly screamed and threw herself into my arms.

“Hahaha… sorry, I’m late.”

“Laate? I looked for you for over an hour! What were you doing all this timeeeee!”

Thank god. At least she didn’t seem angry.

“You stupid fool! I thought you were offered up to the ghost as a sacrifice!”

Though her hands were merciless.

Smack, smack! She beat my back as I apologized.

“Ow, ow! I’m sorry!”

“You need to be hit more!”

We apologized to the poor patrol guard and, while comforting the still-sobbing Holly, returned to our room.

She refused to let go, so the two of us had to squish together into my bed.

For the next two weeks of my lights-out duty, I did not encounter Narkis again on the first floor of the rear wing.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

“If only you didn’t exist.”

Narkis Tricen no longer remembered who had said that.

His birth mother had fled the year he was born, and by the time he could understand words, he was calling his stepmother “Mother.”

No—he tried to call her Mother.

“Your mother is in Ritsa, isn’t she? It’s better if you call me Your Grace.”

And so, from his earliest memories, Duchess Freda was Your Grace.

“You should use honorifics for the Duke as well. Isn’t that right, Narkis?”

The duchess laughed, swirling her wine, her curled navy hair cascading over a luxurious red gown.

The duke’s only heir obeyed.

“Daddy! Fight with me!”

His younger half-brother, ever since he learned to walk and speak, sought the duke at every chance.

Though the duke was often away, he was not unkind to his young son.

“We’ll spar once you’re able to lift a sword.”

“Spar now!”

“It’s spar, not serve.”

He seemed happier with him than he ever did with Narkis.

“Young master looks just like the lord.”

When Narkis’s hair was still black, everyone said that upon seeing him.

Even though he had inherited not only the duke’s black hair and red eyes.

They said a second son existed simply as a spare—to replace the first if misfortune befell him.

That was why the duke had remarried the duchess. The retainers, led by Marquis Hilstern, never ceased debating the matter of succession.

Narkis thought anyone could succeed the ducal seat—it didn’t have to be him. First son or second, what difference did it make?

“Narkis, my lovely son.”

Only Narkis felt that way.

The firelight from the bedroom hearth cast shifting shadows across the duchess’s face.

“You’re beautiful again tonight.”

On nights when the duke didn’t return, a cold hand touched his cheek.

Slowly sliding down.

“When will I finally stop seeing this face?”

The blanket he hugged was yanked away in an instant.

“How long will it take?”

Her hand flew toward him.