63: The Masked Noblewomen / Another Sanada / Roast Pork Sandwich with Honey Mustard 9

The rhythmic sound of the loom echoed through the shop, *katan, katan.*

“Oh, how nostalgic! It looks different, but it’s the same as the weaving looms from the past…!”

“Yes, that’s right. However, unlike regular fabric, it’s better not to make it too fluffy. If you focus on tightening the weft to make it firm and uniform in width, it will result in a beautiful cord.”

At a table by the wall of the general store, a refined elderly lady sat operating a loom.

Right beside her, Jill was seated, teaching her how to weave Sanada-himo cords.

To an onlooker, they appeared very close, almost like a grandmother and granddaughter.

“In the old days, everyone made their own fabric for clothes like this. Everyday wear, and even dresses for palace soirées, were woven from threads like this, cut, and tailored into clothing… It was a lot of work. Nowadays, fabric is easier to come by, and ready-made clothes are more common, but… sometimes I feel nostalgic for those days.”

“I would have loved to see the dresses you made, Lady Charlotte.”

“They weren’t anything special, but thank you, haha.”

Lady Charlotte, who had taken a liking to the Sanada-himo cords, was visiting the general store in disguise. She seemed thoroughly enchanted by the loom left in the store’s workspace, so when Jill suggested, “Shall I teach you how to use it?” the two of them ended up working the loom together.

While this cheerful and harmonious atmosphere unfolded, Maureen was more nervous than when Lady Emily had visited. It was no exaggeration to say that Charlotte, as the shadow ruler of the manor and the pinnacle figure for the city’s noble daughters and maids, commanded an almost unrivaled presence.

A person of fairness and integrity who despises unreasonable or crooked behavior, Charlotte would loudly rebuke anyone for anything illogical, no matter who they were. She was a formidable woman who, alongside a cunning lord, preserved the peace of Shelland through an era of fierce wars. Unless they were family, there wasn’t a single woman in this town who wouldn’t feel tense in her presence.

“Tea is ready.”

“Oh my, isn’t this Maureen from the knight’s brigade? It’s been a while.”

“I-I’m honored you remember me!”

Seeing Maureen so flustered, Jill gave her a silent glance as if to say, “Leave the rest to me.” Maureen, doing her best not to let out a sigh of relief, quietly stepped back. Meanwhile, Carol had already reached her capacity and was practically out of commission.

“This is a lovely shop. To think that rambunctious Maureen now treasures a place like this.”

“Thank you. Maureen has been a great help to me,”

Jill said, nodding with a delighted smile.

“I expected everything here to be modern, but you even use looms like this… It makes me feel young again. If I were a bit younger, I would have loved to put on a mask like Emily and come here to have fun.”

“Oh, you knew about that?”

“Of course. I was the one who first suggested hosting masked soirées,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

“What?!”

According to Charlotte, the custom of high-ranking women wearing masks began about forty years ago. At the time, life wasn’t as prosperous, and entertainment options were limited. The town wasn’t as large as it is now, and it wouldn’t have stood a chance against invading foreign armies or bands of thieves. Both the highborn and the lowly had to gather and cooperate in what was then a humble and rustic town.

However, thanks to Scott’s efforts, peace and prosperity were gradually achieved. At the same time, disparities became more pronounced. With the influx of wealth and significant changes in lifestyle, relationships among women who once washed laundry together by the riverside began to show cracks.

In response, Charlotte suggested, “Why don’t we occasionally forget our usual roles and play like we used to?” This led to the tradition in Shelland of wearing masks and costumes during harvest festivals and evening balls.

“I see…”

“That’s why, when you’re wearing a mask, you shouldn’t be too strict about manners. Normally, I’m the one who’s strict and scary.”

Charlotte smiled, and Jill found herself smiling in response.

The soft sound of wood and thread from the loom filled the quiet room.

“…Doing this weaving reminds me of my family home before I got married.”

“Nowadays, serious weaving is mostly done in workshops with wizards, isn’t it?”

“It’s convenient to buy things with money, and that’s great, but people like me, who are old-fashioned, can’t help but feel nostalgic for the past.”

“I feel like things like this never truly go out of style. I’m even considering leaving the loom here and starting a Sanada cord weaving class.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful… It reminds me of that boy.”

“That boy?”

“Young Conrad, of course.”

A boy.

To Jill, he was the adult she respected most and someone who had been like a parent to her. Though he had a mischievous side, Jill was both surprised and amused to learn that someone close to her referred to him as “young boy.”

“A b-boy, you say… Haha, well, he did have a bit of a childish side,”

Jill asked, trying to stifle her laughter.

“Oh, he was a real rascal. He’d say things like, ‘My cooking is mine alone! I won’t teach anyone!’ while actually teaching aspiring apprentices. He even let them see the kitchen.”

“You remember so much about him. Could you tell me more stories?”

“Of course. I have plenty to share. When he lived in this town, he was so mischievous my husband struggled with him. When it was decided he would take on raising you and return to the royal capital, my husband was so worried. I went to check on him in his place.”

“What? Really?”

Jill had no recollection of this. She vaguely remembered speaking with Scott, but she had assumed this was her first time meeting Charlotte. However, Charlotte smiled, seemingly unfazed.

“It’s natural that you don’t remember. The first time was when you had just turned one. I was so surprised to see that rascal turn into such a doting father.”

“Well, I feel like that mischievous spirit never quite left him.”

“My, my.”

Charlotte chuckled softly, and Jill found herself laughing along.

“Talking like this reminds me of Uncle. By the way, the second time…?”

At Jill’s question, Charlotte’s expression darkened.

“Ah, yes… At that time, you were bedridden.”

“Bedridden?”

“Was it seven years ago? Scott and I had gone to the royal capital. The reason… was because we received word that young Conrad had died in battle.”

Ah, so that’s why, Jill thought with understanding. The death of a prince would naturally call for a state funeral. It was only natural for the ruling couple to be summoned, especially since they had direct acquaintance and close ties with him.

However, Jill suddenly noticed a discrepancy.

“Wait, Uncle’s funeral…?”

“Oh? Don’t you remember? Around that time, you were sick and bedridden. I believe… it was for about six months. After young Conrad left for the battlefield, you started sleeping most of the day and, even when awake, were in a sleepwalking-like state.”

She had no memory of this at all.

This realization was plain on Jill’s face.

Charlotte gently stroked Jill’s head, as if comforting her.

“Sometimes, a high fever can cause memory loss. That must be why you don’t remember… His death must have been so painful for you.”

The warmth of Charlotte’s hand made Jill feel as if she might cry. It felt like the embrace of a family she had always longed for.

“…I’ve often wished I could have been Uncle Conrad’s daughter. My father and mother terrified me so much.”

“I don’t know exactly how you and young Conrad spent your days together, but looking at you now, I can tell. Young Conrad must have thought of you as his own daughter. Your gender and personality may differ, but the important things he cherished have surely been passed down to you.”

“Important things?”

“The heart to treasure ordinary, everyday moments.”

Jill was deeply moved by the quiet, gentle yet somehow powerful words.

“That boy had a quick temper at times, but no matter how hard things were, he always tried to make someone smile.”

Within this woman’s words, Jill could glimpse the image of a happy family.

Jill felt as though she wanted to entrust herself entirely to this warmth, but the weight of an unresolved mystery held her back.

“Lady Charlotte, could you tell me a little more about myself… about the time when I was bedridden?”