Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

The man named Norman Smith could be summed up in one word: a stubborn craftsman. Skilled in his work but excessively obstinate, he disliked social interactions and remained unmarried even past sixty. I had commissioned him many times, but the words we exchanged could be counted on one hand. A man who poured charm into his craft—that Norman had taken on a disciple intrigued me. I wanted to see what kind of person this boy was, to look upon his face.

—It certainly couldn’t be Anastasia.

Yet at the same time... if it were indeed her, that would be fine.

Marie’s strange inferiority complex toward her sister likely stemmed from guilt over having caused her death. If Anastasia were alive, she would certainly be freed from that stress.

In that case, all I had to do was declare my feelings properly. Before both ladies, I would take Marie Shadelan’s hand and propose, saying, “I love you.” That would be enough. Everything would be resolved—

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ll bring Norman-sama now.”

At Mio’s words, I stood up. Marie stayed seated, staring blankly. When I urged her, she hurriedly stood, looking pale.

Norman entered the salon through the door Mio opened and immediately knelt, bowing his head in greeting.

“It’s been a long time, Count Granado.”

“...Ah. Long time indeed.”

I felt a sense of relief.

Norman was definitely not senile. There was no way he would mistake his cohabitant’s gender or overlook a notice in the royal capital.

So it seemed I had mistaken the person. Laughing at how quickly the matter was resolved, I approached Norman.

“You haven’t changed, Norman. You look surprisingly well.”

“Yes, I haven’t even caught a cold... Now, what was the reason for summoning me?”

“Ah, sorry for calling you out for no particular reason. Since you suddenly retired and then suddenly started taking work again, I was just curious about how you were doing—by the way, why did you retire?”

My steps and words stopped mid-sentence.

Only when I got closer did I realize that both of Smith Norman’s eyes were closed.

—I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me—Marie.

Mio, standing beside Norman, wore a bitter expression.

“Three years ago, a heated iron piece splattered during work, piercing through his protective goggles and injuring his eyeballs. Norman-sama now has almost no sight.”

Norman opened his eyes. His black pupils were cloudy, unfocused. The old craftsman spoke into empty space.

“It’s not that I can’t see at all. I can tell light from dark and even some colors. Surprisingly, this is not inconvenient for living.”

“...I-I see. That’s... good.”

“My hands remember the work. But I can’t read order forms, so I can’t accept orders or request materials. I thought I couldn’t work, so I retired.”

“...Human... faces and bodies?”

“If they are familiar people, I can manage somehow. New clients are also no problem. My disciple handles the reception—”

Cutting him off, I shouted:

“Mio! Where is Norman’s disciple? You said to bring him along!”

“If it’s ‘him,’ he’s still in the carriage.”

Mio answered. Between my saying “her” and her saying “him,” Marie’s gaze wavered.

“Carriage? Norman, why didn’t your disciple come with you?”

“Ah, that boy started complaining when we arrived at the castle. He refused to appear before the Count in these filthy work clothes and demanded to change.”

“Change...?”

“He usually wears my pajamas or patched-up old clothes. Sorry, but please give us a little more time.”

Norman’s defense sounded like a father protecting his son or a lenient grandfather. If he said he would come soon, there was no need to rush. More importantly, I had to confirm something.

“Norman, this might be a strange question, but answer me. With your vision, how did you know that person was a boy?”

“Huh? Well, because he said so himself...”

Norman’s voice was odd but sincere—not acting or lying. Still, with Norman’s vision, the truth wasn’t guaranteed. I looked at Mio. She had spent a long time facing the boy in the carriage. But she shook her head.