The Witch Didn't Raise the Tyrant That Way - Chapter 1: This is How I Raised Him (5)

The next morning, Kyle nervously braided my hair into two pigtails, just as he had practiced all day yesterday. His tense lips and concentration were oddly endearing, but…

“Here and here—this part is uneven!”

“Sorry… Should I redo it?”

“Forget it. Just make sure it’s perfect tomorrow. Got it?”

“O-okay…”

“And what’s this? The weight on each side is different! What if I end up tilting my head all day without realizing it and end up with a neck injury, huh?”

“Neck… what?”

“Ahem, it’s a thing,” I muttered, brushing off his confusion.

Once again, I reflexively scolded Kyle, only to serve him a hearty, delicious breakfast moments later.

*

I had spent much of last night turning my options over and over in my head, but ultimately, I reaffirmed my decision to stick with my current strategy.

To prevent Ibi Auntie from taking Kyle and possibly getting herself burned at the stake… and to make sure Kyle doesn’t get too attached to this place…

I had to strike a careful balance: be polite and humane, but avoid any warmth or kindness that might draw us closer.

Kyle didn’t have much choice but to accept this dynamic. After all, to him, I was an unwanted host thrust upon him without warning. Unlike me, who had foreknowledge of his arrival thanks to the original story, the real Lilithea would have seen him as nothing more than a bolt from the blue—a burden.

*

“All right. Let’s try a new task today,” I said after shaking out my (impressively well-braided) hair and standing up. I had been critical of his effort, but truthfully, he’d done much better than expected for a beginner.

“We’re out of bread, so we need to bake more for later.”

Watching him attempt to cut apples yesterday convinced me that sharp objects were a no-go, but surely bread dough was safe enough. If I measured the ingredients for him, he should be able to handle mixing and kneading…

*

“Don’t shake the sifter like that! You’re making it spill everywhere!”

“Hey! Why are you dumping the water in all at once?!”

Never mind.

When I handed him the flour sifter, he shook it so vigorously that his black hair turned white with a cloud of flour dust. Then, when I asked him to pour water into the mixing bowl, he tipped the entire cup at once. The water, splashing against the curved edges of the bowl, spilled over and soaked his front completely.

I had shown him what to do step by step, and yet…

“I-I’ll fix it,” Kyle mumbled.

“You can’t just ‘fix’ it! The proportions are all wrong now. Start over—go get more flour from the sack,” I said curtly, gesturing toward the pantry at the back of the kitchen.

In truth, I’d hoped this would be a rewarding experience for him—his first time baking bread properly, following a perfect recipe. But I kept those thoughts to myself, maintaining a cold demeanor.

*

“Ah, ahhh!”

Kyle attempted to carry the flour sack, but he lost his balance after just a few steps. He tumbled forward, landing flat on the floor as a puff of flour rose into the air and rained down on him like snow.

…Was this boy really the future tyrant? The one who would bathe the royal palace in blood and behead rebellious forces with his blade? Could that possibly be true?

I let out a deep sigh, almost involuntarily.

*

“S-sorry…”

Startled by the sound, Kyle snapped his head up. His forehead, which had adorably protruded during his fall, was now red and swollen. Beneath his small, upturned nose, a thin stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

“Y-you’re bleeding!” I exclaimed.

Thinking I was chastising him for being messy, Kyle quickly wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “I-I’ll clean it up!” he stammered, scrambling to grab a broom.

“Stop! Don’t touch it!”

I instinctively shouted and lifted Kyle up by his underarms, setting him on top of a sturdy box of food supplies in the corner of the kitchen.

“What were you thinking? Sweeping up while we’re handling food? Do you want to eat dust-covered bread?”

“I-I wasn’t…” Kyle stammered, clearly bewildered by the sudden turn of events. His face was etched with confusion, unable to process what had just happened.

I sighed deeply, then gently pinched his nose with the hem of my apron.

Kyle’s thin shoulders flinched again, trembling as if he thought I was about to hit him. Considering he had already made multiple mistakes today, culminating in a major one, it was no wonder he was on edge. His wide, red eyes were framed by reddened eyelids, his fear palpable.

“Calm down. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“…”

“Flour can be replaced, and there’s enough bread dough to bake for dinner. So stop worrying.”

Right now, the most important thing was calming him down. If he kept stressing out, his nosebleed would probably get worse.

Thankfully, stepping out of my usual stern tone seemed to have worked. Kyle’s erratic breathing gradually evened out, his small body relaxing bit by bit.

“Here. Hold this against your nose,” I said, handing him a clean linen cloth. I guided his hand to press the cloth firmly under his nostrils. “Now use your other hand to pinch here, like this.”

Kyle followed my instructions as I showed him how to pinch the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding.

“I’ll take care of the mess. You just focus on stopping the bleeding.”

“But—”

“No buts. I’ll run a bath for you. Go soak in some bubbles, play with the duck, and relax, okay?”

His flour-covered state was pitiful enough. I didn’t need him stumbling around trying to help and making things worse. I quickly cut him off before he could protest further, maintaining my usual sternness. Oddly enough, it seemed easier for him to accept direct orders than gentle words.

*

After finishing the bread dough and cleaning the flour-covered floor, Kyle emerged from the bath. As on his first day here, he was dressed in one of Lilithea’s old tunic dresses, peeking out shyly from behind the partition. His freshly washed cheeks were flushed pink, looking like rosy apples.

“What should I do now?” he asked hesitantly.

“Get ready to go out,” I replied.

“Huh?”

“We’re going to buy you some clothes.”

“Clothes…?”

“You don’t plan on wearing my old clothes forever, do you?” I teased, smirking as Kyle awkwardly glanced down at the tunic he was wearing, brushing his fingers over the fabric as if to check its texture. He seemed reluctant to accept that he deserved anything better.

“Seriously,” I sighed, shaking my head. “Suddenly having an extra mouth to feed means I can’t avoid a trip to the market.”

Seeing Kyle’s faint flicker of gratitude, I made sure to counter it with a playful jab. I grabbed a robe and slipped it over him—it was one of Lilithea’s old traveling outfits from when she was around his age. Luckily, she hadn’t sorted through much of her belongings when she moved here, likely due to the grief over her mother’s death.

“People might mistake you for a girl today, but just deal with it. Once we get new clothes, you won’t have to worry about it anymore. You do realize wearing your current clothes to the market would be a disaster, right?”

“Yeah…” Kyle nodded hesitantly, understanding the risk.

“Good. Now watch carefully.”

I picked up a small glass vial from the table and held it up to Kyle’s curious gaze.

“‘Swap-Swap… Potion?’” Kyle read the label, tilting his head in confusion. Lilithea, ever the practical mind, had given it a perfectly literal name.

“Here’s how it works.”

Before Kyle could react, I tilted the vial and let a single drop fall into my eye.

“W-what are you doing?!” Kyle exclaimed, startled by my sudden action.

“Testing it,” I said casually, blinking five times as the potion’s effects kicked in. “Well? How does it look? Did it change? It’s brown now, right?”

“Uh… yeah, I think so.”

Kyle leaned closer, his crimson eyes wide with amazement as he stared at my irises. Originally a golden-amber color like polished topaz, my eyes had turned a deep, natural brown.

“Want me to do it again? Look—”

“N-no, don’t!” Kyle practically squealed as I tilted the vial to drop the potion into my other eye. After blinking a few more times, both of my eyes had completely transformed.

The Swap-Swap Potion was one of Lilithea’s creations that had appeared in the original story—a concoction that temporarily changed the color of one’s irises. While I wasn’t sure why she’d originally developed it, I remembered it well enough to locate the recipe. Kyle’s vibrant red eyes were far too conspicuous for a trip to the market, so this potion was our solution.

“Why did you use it on yourself? You made it for me, didn’t you?” Kyle asked, frowning.

“What, you think I should just shove it into your eyes without warning? As if you’d trust me even if I explained it first.”

“Hmm?”

Kyle’s face looked unusually subdued, his expression shrinking into itself. His lips quivered slightly, as though he wanted to protest but couldn’t find the words. Was he feeling uneasy because he thought I had taken some kind of risk for his sake?

Honestly, I had done it purely for practicality. I needed him to trust the potion and use it without hesitation. I had no doubts about its efficacy—it had been explicitly mentioned in the original story. Lilithea had created it because she found Kyle’s red eyes unsettling, and it was known to have no pain or side effects. In fact, when the grown-up Kyle eventually left her cabin, he’d even taken a vial of the potion with him.

“This potion is perfectly safe. It won’t harm your vision or anything. It just temporarily changes the color of your irises. The effect lasts only five hours, so don’t worry about it, Your Highness,” I said lightly, trying to reassure him.

“…”

“What, can’t do it yourself? Want me to do it for you? Just lie down here and rest your head on my lap.”

“N-no, I’ll do it!” Kyle blurted, his face flushing slightly as he grabbed the potion bottle.

Whatever was bothering him, he still seemed reluctant, his lips pressed into a pout. Deciding not to press further, I left him with the bottle and turned my attention to preparing for our outing.

* * *