Count Swangan continued speaking, not paying any heed at all to the woman beside him. “As head of this family, I have no reason to entertain such fancies. Being as my son is not here, it matters not to me if you would prefer to go home and continue living with the viscount. Simply inform me what you plan to do.”
Byletta blinked slowly, stunned by the offhand question.
“Dragging you here was a mistake, Byletta. I will understand if you wish to return home.”
“No, Father. I would like to stay here and respect my husband’s wishes.”
Byletta shot her father a resolute look. He nodded, as if he understood the determination in her eyes. As if he knew there was something in this house pulling on the heartstrings of his deeply dutiful and empathetic daughter.
And thus, Byletta became a part of House Swangan.
Before long, Byletta’s father was shooed away by the count, who insisted that the lack of a wedding ceremony meant his presence wasn’t required. When the viscount left for home, he did so with a worried look in his eyes.
Though he promised Byletta that he would come back to see her, he, too, would be leaving for the front soon as part of the Logistical Support Corps. At that point, he would be in far more danger than she would ever face at the Swangan estate. It wasn’t as if her in-laws were after her life. She wished she could tell her father to focus on worrying about himself.
But even as Byletta prayed for her father’s safety, he told her in his typical solemn tone that a soldier of the empire should have the courage to rush off to war at any time. Quietly, she reassured herself that he didn’t mean he was hurrying off to his death.
Despite her husband’s and Count Swangan’s differing views on the matter of Byletta’s living arrangements, it seemed that a room had been prepared for her anyway. A servant led her there, to the space that would now become hers. It seemed the few possessions she’d brought with her had already been put up, so all there was for her to do was quietly pass the time. What else could she do? She had too little information to make choices one way or the other.
In the end, all she did was sit on the couch in her new room, ruminating over that last conversation with her father, until she was called to the dining room.
Dinner was an extremely tense affair, pierced by the jarring sounds of smashing tableware.
Seated around a long table in the count’s dining room were four people: the count, the countess, Byletta, and a young girl. The girl was named Milena, and she had only just turned six years old. She was to be Byletta’s new sister.
The child—who had the same blond hair as her mother, but her father’s pale-blue eyes—had introduced herself nervously. She was unusually meek for her age and noticeably quieter than her new sister-in-law. The girl’s withdrawn nature would be easy to mistake for mere shyness, but Byletta grew secretly thankful at her choice to remain at the Swangan estate when she realized it stemmed from fear. To think that the count wasn’t only harming his wife, Cynthia, but their daughter, too. It was unforgivable.
Although, given that the man was currently furiously smashing plates on the floor, it wasn’t overly surprising.
“Shut your mouth, woman! How dare you talk back to me?!”
All Cynthia had done was rebuke him, suggesting plainly that he may have had a little too much to drink. But that was all it had taken to enrage the count, to the point that he had struck his wife across the face. Byletta stared at the angry welt beginning to form. She could tell that the count’s slap had been so hard that it had injured the inside of Cynthia’s mouth. The redness spreading across the woman’s skin looked incredibly painful.
And yet not one of the countless butlers, waiters, or maids surrounding them made any attempt to stop the violence.
They all just stared ahead, holding their breaths and trying their best not to let their faces betray whatever they secretly thought about the matter.
“That silly son of mine has left. You will let me do as I see fit.”
The count hauled back to strike Cynthia again, but Byletta rushed over and grabbed his hand.
“Retired or not, a soldier who strikes a woman he is meant to protect is an insult to his imperial title.”
Count Swangan was an ex-serviceman. Troubled by lung issues, he had retired from the Imperial Army due to the sickness and apparently now spent his days holed up at home, managing his estate. But something about that seemed suspicious. From what Byletta had heard, the lands he possessed were impeccably managed. In fact, it seemed the count had no significant outstanding debts. But looking at him now, such a thing seemed implausible.
Still, looking into the estate was a matter for later—she needed to get the drunkard in front of her under control.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I could ask you the same question. Perhaps you have had too much liquor? It might be prudent to heed your wife’s words.”
“Silence! I will not take orders from a little snot-nosed child begot by some self-important viscount. You are just a girl, a wife in name only to a man who has already abandoned her. How dare you act so high and mighty toward me?!”
“Come now, Father. How absurd. If I am but a little snot-nosed child, how mighty could I possibly be?”
Even as Byletta laughed insincerely, the count’s face was flushing a deep red. He roared his next words so angrily that spit came flying out of his mouth.
“Enough with this nonsense! Release my hand this instant!”
“Are you sure you’re an ex-soldier of the Imperial Army? How strange… You must be quite intoxicated to be immobilized by a little girl.”
“Outside, now! I shall wet my sword with your blood!”
“M-my lord… Please stop!” Cynthia hastily implored her raging husband. Byletta was moved by her kindness.
The whole tableau rather reminded her of her own mother, who was so used to seeing her husband and daughter fight every day that she had learned to ignore it. She never even attempted to stop them anymore.
“Now, don’t show me any mercy just because I’m a little girl… I’ll show you just how drunk you are!”
“E-excuse me!”
“I accept your challenge. Shall we take this elsewhere?”