The Tyrant’s Guardian is an Evil Witch

Chapter 7

Clette worked on her potions and scrolls until sunset. She was far from done just because the sun retired from the day, though. The duchess couldn’t rest until she had handled all the documents sent from the different tribes who called Velos home, and processed all kinds of official papers. While on the way to her office, Clette decided to first stop by Edmund’s room. She had made a recovery potion that focused on treating stiff shoulders, she would drop it off and be on her merry way.

Her plans, however, shattered like the bottles on the ground, after her flash teleportation ended up having a child barrel into her. Arpen and Clette stood stunned, they could only look at each other in silence.

Clette planned to warn the little boy to be careful and not step on the fragments of glass that littered the floor, but the stunned boy was at a loss and immediately apologized.

“I- I am so sorry!”

‘Huh?’

Why did he apologize so profusely when only a single potion broke? Besides, it wasn’t as if he was the only one in the wrong; Clette herself should’ve been more attentive to where she had teleported.

A couple of months have come to pass since the child started living in Velos. The first thing Clette learned about him was his wariness of her. Regardless of whether Arpen has committed wrongdoings or not, he always looked ready to apologize and bear the punishment he was to receive. Even if she just stayed silent and looked at him, the same situation would occur between them.

Clette, as expected, had nothing in common with this 7-year-old child and rarely had meaningful conversations with him. This apology was the first thing she’s heard him say to her in a few days.

“For what?”

‘He’s done nothing that deserves an apology. This accident happened due to no one’s particular fault, the timing just wasn’t right.’

Clette meant to reassure him, but the boy started to shake violently and beg her for forgiveness.

“I shouldn’t have done this, I’m so sorry! Please, please forgive me ma’am!”

Clette, flustered at his actions, grabbed the child’s raised hands. Arpen froze at her touch.

‘Relax boy, it’s the castle that’s made of ice, not you.’

“Just what-”

Clette had wanted to ask just what he thought he was doing, but Edmund’s advice occurred to her. She, who had a face that even war-hardened warriors had a hard time facing, was unlike other people and had to double her efforts to look non-threatening. The white witch’s lips stretched into a strained smile.

“What are you doing, Tita?”

Tita was the little boy’s birth name. When Clette had called him Arpen, the boy didn’t respond to the name. It was unfamiliar and awkward for him, who’d only known himself as Tita.

Clette then asked him what his name was and with a shy, red face, told them to call him Tita. Edmund and Clette had spent an enormous effort to maintain a normalness in their speaking and tone, as to hide the embarrassment they were feeling inside.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re apologizing?”

Tita was an onomatopoeia used to express a blaze, it was not a name given to a child who has inherited imperial blood. Was there such a reference in the novel? Tita then proceeded to explain the origin of his name to the puzzled Edmund and Clette. It was a name his mother gave him while they watched a bonfire. Only then did they nod their heads in understanding. It was not unusual for commoners to bestow such names.

Only

Clette and Edmund had thus decided to call him by the name his mother had given him rather than ‘Arpen’, which reeked of royalty and imperial pomposity. Don’t let it be said that they decided on Tita rather than Arpen because it was shorter and easier to call.

“Come on now, tell me.”

‘Gently, affectionately.’

Tita’s face when he saw my bright smile paled as if he had seen a ghost.

“Ar- are you going to turn me into a frog?”

Tita stuttered as his teeth clattered.

“What?”