The Female Lead Takes Care of Everything - Chapter 48

The economic value of Rubeo, under Celletina’s leadership, was once deemed “immeasurable.”

In other words, the economic revival she orchestrated was so immense, it couldn’t even be quantified.

Naturally, the Deiamor family—of which she was a part—was now experiencing an unprecedented golden age.

“You don’t have money?”

“I’m just being cautious.”

Pellsoné had struck a nerve, and Count Petra’s son shot back with irritation.

In truth, he didn’t have money.

Even as the son of the Petra Bank’s president—one of the most powerful financial institutions in the Dramenor Empire—his personal funds were limited.

The Count, still active in his position, was notoriously stingy with spending. He constantly warned his children to be frugal and only gave out modest allowances, rare for a noble household.

Once they reached adulthood, even that support mostly stopped—aside from the bare minimum needed to maintain appearances.

“…Count Petra.”

Pellsoné’s quiet voice broke the silence.

Count Petra’s son turned toward him, still absently peeling the dry skin off his lips. A tiny drop of blood appeared on his thick lower lip.

“How much can you realistically access right now?”

“……”

“I’m on your side. Don’t let pride get in the way.”

“…Fifty million uvas.”

He gritted his teeth as he said it.

“That’s everything I can use at this moment.”

“Hmm. That is a small amount.”

“……”

Of course, he had to say the one thing I didn’t want to hear.

Petra’s eyes narrowed, but Pellsoné simply stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Then you’ll have to borrow the rest.”

“Borrow? Are you seriously telling me to take out a loan?”

“There are many others, not just you, who have their eyes on the mana stones of the Kingdom of Frok. I’m one of them.”

Pellsoné glanced around the room as he spoke.

The reception hall of Petra’s residence was wildly excessive.

Gilded trim lined the walls, oversized paintings with no artistic taste dominated the space, and ornamental armor with red plumes sat unnecessarily in the corners.

The entire room looked like a shrine to someone desperately trying to prove they had money.

Like a cluttered warehouse of expensive things—no sense of style, only insecurity.

“But if you secure investment and combine it with what you already have, you’ll not only pay off the loan in a few months—you’ll come out with a fortune.”

Invest five million—earn fifty.

Invest ten—get a hundred.

That was the scale of profit offered by the Frok mana stone mines.

“……”

Petra’s son’s harsh gaze softened slightly.

It was tempting.

Turn fifty million into five billion…

But there was one major problem.

“Petra Bank won’t lend to me.”

The Petra family had a long-standing rule: their own children were not allowed to take loans from the family bank.

“Because of that damn pride.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Pellsoné replied with a faint smile.

“I know another lender. One you can trust.”

Nivellia loved camping in the forest.

“Ugh, it’s itchy…”

Except for the mosquito bite.

On the last night of their trip, she had kicked off her blanket while sleeping—and that’s when it got her.

Forest mosquitoes were brutal. Just one bite had left her soft, pale skin swollen and red.

Thankfully, the witches had prepared an ointment that brought the swelling down within hours.

The redness quickly faded too.

“There’s a little hole!”

“You’re right. Maybe that’s where the mosquito’s mouth went in?”

“Miss Nivellia, does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt. Just itches.”

The other children couldn’t take their eyes off the bite on Nivellia’s arm.

Her fine baby hairs were almost invisible, and the red dot left behind was just slightly bigger than a freckle.

“Don’t scratch it.”

Aref gently stopped her hand just as she was about to dig at it with her nails.

“But it itches!”

“I’ll put on more ointment.”

The cooling ointment left a faint chill on her skin, soothing the heat and calming the itch.

“…That feels nice.”

Nivellia visibly relaxed, her face softening.

“Thanks, Aref!”

“It’s nothing,” Aref said, his voice a little more confident than usual.

“If it starts itching again, just tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay!”

“My, what a sweet sight.”

A passing witch chuckled warmly.

“They’re just perfect for each other. Looks like the Deiamor family has found itself a fine young groom.”

“Miss Nivellia sure is lucky,” the witch added with a smile. “Already has such a thoughtful future husband.”

Aref’s cheeks turned bright red, and he looked completely lost at the witches’ teasing remarks.

But instead of denying it, he softly murmured the word “husband” to himself, savoring it with a dreamy look, even though his face was burning with embarrassment.

Nivellia, on the other hand, nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yup!”

Then she shouted proudly:

“Aref is Nini’s partner!”

“Oh my, you know such a grown-up word?”

“Is ‘partner’ a hard word?”

“Well, sort of.”

It wasn’t a word you’d normally expect from a child her age.

But the witch didn’t make a big deal out of it. Kids often surprised adults with the things they picked up anyway.

After parting ways with the witch, Nivellia stood and watched the adults as they began loading their luggage back into the wagons.

Then, determined to help, she grabbed a small basket and carried it with effort over to the side of the wagon.

She wasn’t getting paid for the work, of course—but she wanted to help.

Once most of the luggage had been loaded, Nivellia went to find the Grand Witch.

“We’re going home now.”

“I see.”

“Let’s play again next time, okay?”

Nivellia sat beside her like a friend, speaking casually and warmly.

Celletina watched from a distance and couldn’t help but worry. Is it okay to speak like that to the Grand Witch? Isn’t that a bit rude?

But the Grand Witch clearly adored Nivellia.

“You’ll come play with me again?”

“Yup! I like you, Grand Witch!”

“And I like you very much, Nini.”

The Grand Witch offered gifts to her precious visitors: handmade honey treats and bundles of herbal tea.

She even came out herself to see them off.

“Take care on your journey,” she said as the Deiamor family boarded the wagon.

“There may be some noise ahead… but not all trouble is bad.”

“…Is that so?”

Most people didn’t understand what she meant, but Muniel did.

“I had a feeling something like that was coming too.”

“Try not to be too hard on her.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“You really need to loosen up.”

“This is me being calm.”

“……”

Ardores chose to pretend he hadn’t heard Muniel’s quiet grumbling.

“Bye-bye!”

Nivellia poked her head out the carriage window and waved both hands energetically.

Soles and Aref leaned out after her, happily waving to the witches as well.

The witches smiled and waved in return.

The Grand Witch, too old to raise her arms, simply watched them go with a warm, affectionate gaze, standing still until the carriage disappeared from view.

“…Sigh. It’s not like we’ll never see them again, but still—it feels oddly lonely.”

A nearby witch let out a wistful sigh.

“The children were just so kind… it’s hard not to grow attached.”

“Isn’t that true?”

“The Grand Witch seemed especially fond of the young lady.”

“Well, she is an adorable little cat.”

“Though she looks more like a puppy than a cat, doesn’t she?”

“Fufu.”

The Grand Witch hid a knowing smile deep within the folds of her wrinkled face.

“Take good care of her.”

The words, softly whispered from her heart, floated into the air—reaching all the way to the Deiamor family’s departing carriage, now fading into the distance.

“…Tch.”

Ather, the evil dragon, curled himself into a ball, pretending not to hear.

“That rude little thing is far too lucky.”

Armiphera Deiamor is coming back.

“…But when, exactly?”

Caleo wasn’t entirely thrilled about the news of his younger sister’s return.

Still, there was once a time when she used to follow him around, calling out, “Big Brother, Big Brother,” with bright eyes and a sweet voice.

Armiphera had always been stunning.

Her deep red hair was even more vivid than roses, making her beauty all the more striking.

Thanks to that, Caleo had spent a good portion of his youth chasing off troublemakers—guys constantly trying to flirt with his sister. His clothes were often soaked in red, not from her hair, but from the blood of the ones he’d beaten up.

Then one day, Armiphera began murmuring things like,

“I want to live freely! What could be more terrifying and beautiful than a life of adventure?”

And the moment she came of age, she took a job with Celletina’s help, started earning her own money…

…and six years ago, she declared she would become the Mercenary King—and disappeared.

“When was the last time we saw her?”

“Two years ago,” Celletina said, thinking back. “She stopped by briefly to borrow your father’s greatsword.”

Her long, flowing red hair had been hacked short, like she’d cut it herself with kitchen scissors. Her once fair, flawless skin had turned a deep, sun-browned shade—hardened by the sun and the road.

Scars marked her body everywhere.

But Armiphera had looked truly happy.

“Celletina… she didn’t borrow that sword. She stole it.”

[I’m just borrowing it!]

She had snuck into the armory where Ardores kept his old weapons and made off with one of his treasured greatswords.

All that remained below the sword’s empty mount was a scrap of paper with those cheeky words written on it.

“Anyway, this time, she’ll finally get to meet Nini properly.”

“Nini didn’t even know she had an aunt.”

“I think she understands now.”

She had at least realized her father had a younger sister.

“Still… we should prepare a room for her.”

Maybe we should give her back the annex?

As Caleo debated various options in his head, Celletina spoke up.

“Darling.”

“Yeah?”

“I heard something recently.”

“Hmm?”

“The prize for winning the Mercenary King tournament… was the egg of the evil dragon Ather.”

“…What?”

Caleo froze, right in the middle of finalizing an order for luxury furniture for his sister’s return.

With her husband looking stunned, Celletina said it again—just to be sure he fully understood.

“So, doesn’t that mean your sister… became the Mercenary King?”

“……”

“Shouldn’t we throw a celebration banquet?”

“Oh, merciful heavens…”

Caleo pressed his forehead against his clasped hands, as if in prayer.

The daughter of a saintess and a holy knight… actually became the Mercenary King.

And at that exact moment—

“Wow, look at you! You’ve grown so much!”

Armiphera Deiamor was meeting her niece—Caleo’s daughter—for the very first time.

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