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    To all readers following this work up-to-date, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies for any inconsistencies that may arise throughout the chapters. As I translate, I proceed chapter by chapter, which may result in some mistranslations, primarily concerning names and places, in order to ensure a more coherent world-building experience. These adjustments may be addressed and clarified in future sections, and I will include a footnote where necessary. Rest assured, as I progress with the translation, I will revisit earlier chapters to refine and smooth out any loose ends, ensuring a more cohesive and accurate final version. Moving forward, I intend to avoid such inconsistencies. Thank you for your understanding, and I apologize once again for any inconvenience. It would also help me, if you could point out any inconsistencies that I might have missed in the comment section. Thank you and happy reading~

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    ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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    [❤️ Golden Child Treasure Chest ❤️ – Consultation Log]

    Name: Christian Emmett Molt
    Age: 8

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    ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

     

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    Edith gazed intently at Christian’s newly added status window in the treasure chest, her expression grim.

    Two pieces of information. The status window, containing nothing but his name and age, was sparse—so sparse it bordered on desolate.

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    Although staring at it wouldn’t change anything, Edith persisted, her focus unwavering. This was unprecedented.

    ‘It’s the first time someone’s been added to the treasure chest without me meeting them in person.’

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    Edith’s ability activated the moment she became aware of a child’s existence. The more she knew about the child, or the less wary the child was of her, the more detailed the information would appear.

    Until now, Edith had always relied on direct encounters to recognize a child’s existence. Face-to-face meetings had been a prerequisite. But Christian’s name had entered her treasure chest despite her never having met him.

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    ‘Could it be because I saw the portrait?’

    The portrait she’d initially mistaken for Skyle’s was, in fact, not Skyle at all. That seemed like the most plausible explanation for now.

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    “The woman in the portrait you saw is the second wife of Count Molt. Christian is her child with the Count.”

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    Edith recalled the dry tone of voice explaining the portrait. According to him, Christian was Skyle’s half-brother.

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    Last night, Edith had sensed a strange distance in Skyle when he spoke about his family. He referred to his father as “Count Molt” and to his stepmother as simply the wife of the Count.

    Only Christian had been called by his actual name, but even then, Skyel didn’t seem fond of mentioning him. In fact, he had seemed to grow quieter and more somber as he did.

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    It was far from an ordinary reaction, and it hinted at the complexity of Skyle’s family dynamics.

    ‘Why did I even bring it up?’

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    Edith regretted the careless chatter of the previous night. Everyone had their sensitive spots, and for Skyle, his family was undoubtedly one of them.

    She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten something so crucial, even when she already knew about his younger brother!

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    “Woof!”

    “Sorry, Becky. Did I startle you?”

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    Consumed with self-reproach, Edith lightly tapped her forehead, startling Becky, who had been sprawled across half the pillow in peaceful slumber.

    Edith immediately apologized, pulling Becky into her arms. Though she knew the puppy would soon return to the pillow, Becky stayed quiet for the moment.

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    ‘The Molt family isn’t listed in the registry. That must mean they’re not capital nobility. But then why doesn’t Skyle’s name include Malt?’

    Christian Emmett Molt. As his name suggested, Christian carried the blood of Count Molt’s lineage, and presumably, Skyle did too.

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    Yet Skyle’s full name was Skyle Elliott Devion, not Skyle Elliott Devion Malt.

    Typically, acquiring a new title didn’t mean discarding the old family name. A string of surnames was a symbol of lineage and honor.

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    And yet, in Skyle’s official documentation, only the name Devion remained. Edith had checked the contracts multiple times; there was no mistake.

    ‘There’s so much I don’t know.’

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    Edith sighed. Ignorance wasn’t a crime, but her lack of knowledge had led to repeated missteps. It had caused her to unwittingly prod at someone else’s wounds, and for that, she felt deeply sorry.

    ‘There must be something I can do.’

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    She hesitated to ask Bill; it felt like too delicate a matter to pry into family affairs. Deciding to leave that as a last resort, she wracked her brain for other options.

    “Ah, Becky, you’re wide awake now. You want to go out, don’t you?”

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    Becky, who had once again claimed her spot on the pillow, was now licking Edith’s face, pleading for a walk. Though she hadn’t had much rest herself, Edith knew she couldn’t win against the energetic puppy.

    With a final glance at the unchanging status window, Edith shut it down and rose to her feet.

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    ***

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    Becky’s favorite game was playing with a ball.

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    When Edith threw a ball made of tangled soft yarn, Becky would sprint toward it with her tiny, unsteady legs, dodo-do! The small puppy would then proudly return, the ball filling her mouth, and look up at her with an air of triumph.

    Thud! Roll, roll, roll.

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    “Becky! You’re supposed to bring it back. What are you doing just spitting it out over there?”

    The problem was, Becky never returned the ball. Edith alternated her gaze between the ball that had rolled to a stop on the grass and Becky, who wagged her tail as if to say, I did a great job, didn’t I?

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    But, as always, the one who relented was Edith. Going up against an adorable puppy was an inherently unwinnable battle, and she knew that from the start.

    “Here you go!”

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    When Edith picked up the ball, Becky wagged her tail even faster, signaling her eagerness for another throw. This time, Edith threw it a little farther, and Becky darted off like an arrow. It was astonishing how quick she was despite her tiny frame.

    ‘Did Vivianne play like this with her?’

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    Watching Becky’s spirited antics, Edith found herself lost in thought.

    Living with Becky had revealed one surprising fact—Becky had a remarkably routine lifestyle.

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     Becky only asked to play during specific times of the day, as if waiting for someone who always came around at that hour. That someone, Edith assumed, must have been Vivianne.

    ‘There’s still no word from the Valesia Ducal Estate.’

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    Did she truly plan to leave Becky behind forever? That seemed to be the only reasonable conclusion, yet Edith couldn’t shake the memory of Vivianne. The way she had stubbornly ignored Becky but looked utterly heartbroken lingered in her mind.

    “Woof!”

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    Recalling that day left Edith unsettled, but before she could dwell on it, Becky suddenly froze in her tracks, then started bouncing in the opposite direction, her excitement palpable.

    “Becky, what’s wrong?”

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    Curious about Becky’s odd behavior, Edith turned to follow her line of sight and gasped, her eyes widening.

    ‘Skyle?’

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    A tall figure was approaching in the distance. It was unmistakably Skyle. Engrossed in playing with Becky, Edith hadn’t noticed the sound of the carriage returning.

    Reflexively, she glanced at the sky. The sun was still high and bright, making her surprise all the more profound. Skyle, who usually only returned late at night after she had gone to bed, was home early.

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    “Skyle!”

    Without realizing it, Edith raised her hand high and waved to greet him. But when Skyle halted mid-step, staring at her, she belatedly realized how unseemly her excitement must have appeared.

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    Embarrassed, she slowly lowered her hand. Hastily approaching him, she scooped up Becky, who was panting at his feet.

    “You’re home early. Did work finish earlier today?”

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    “…No. A new task has arisen. I stopped by briefly to prepare for my departure.”

    “You’re leaving again?”

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    Edith inwardly calculated how many times Skyle had been away since their marriage and sighed—not out of frustration or disappointment, but out of sheer exhaustion on his behalf. His schedule was nothing short of grueling.

    “You’ve only just returned from Kairant. You’ve been so busy lately. Are you getting enough sleep?”

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    Her gaze lingered on his face, etched with visible fatigue, concern evident in her eyes. Catching her worried look, Skyle briefly glanced at her but averted his eyes before their gazes could truly meet.

    “I’m sleeping as much as I need to. I wouldn’t neglect my health to the point where it jeopardizes our contract, so there’s no need to worry.”

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    Wasn’t this bordering on overwork? The thought troubled her, and Edith hesitated, the familiarity of his words striking her. She had heard this before.

    Edith paused and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to steady herself. After a moment, she swallowed her hesitation and spoke quietly.

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    “That’s not why I’m worried.”

    The sunlight illuminated Skyle’s gray eyes, making them appear even brighter as they slowly met hers. Edith suddenly thought his eyes resembled the gray heart she’d seen on the status screen—the hollow one that appeared next to his brother’s name.

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    That faint, empty heart.

    “I’m not saying this because I’m your contract partner—I just… I’m worried, that’s all.”

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    Perhaps that was why she couldn’t help but notice him more. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this seemingly flawless man had a heart as hollow as that gray one.

    “Maybe it’s just because it’s been so long since I’ve lived with someone, or maybe it’s because we’ll be seeing each other for the next three years…”

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    “……”

    “I don’t know. Maybe it is, as you said, a waste of emotion.”

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    Or perhaps it was simply her meddlesome nature. In truth, the reason didn’t matter much.

    You didn’t need a grand reason to worry about someone.

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    The world was cold—always cold—but not entirely so. Everyone had a little warmth to share, didn’t they?

    Like Becky, who nestled quietly in her arms, radiating warmth.

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    “Still, there’s really no deeper reason. You just looked so tired that I felt worried, that’s all. I’m not trying to lecture you about taking care of yourself.”

    For Edith, that warmth was emotion—a kind of warmth that didn’t diminish no matter how much you shared it. It had sustained her through her difficult childhood.

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    She simply wanted to tell this to the Duke who always needed a reason.

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