Guide to the Education and Training of Girls with Mentally Abnormalities

Chapter 7 Owners and Cats

"so……"

"You mean I just need to stay obediently in the house for the next few days and not do anything?"

Esther clutched the hem of her dress, looking at Edmund with a hint of timidity.

"That's right, aren't you a useless idiot who can't do anything? How can I ask a useless idiot who can't do anything to do anything for me?" Edmund leaned against the door, lowered his head, and shoved his feet into his leather boots.

Estée bit her lip.

"I can actually do it for you too... This is really the first time I've said this..."

"Hey, I told you not to bring that up."

"Although I am not as literate as you require, in other aspects, I am certainly no worse than anyone else."

Edmund stood by the door and turned to stare at the girl whose eyes held a mixture of surprise and worry.

"What? You think I washed and dressed you up, but didn't even want to touch you, just so I could train you and then sell you to slave traders for a high price?"

Estée, her thoughts exposed, made a "hey" sound like a cat. Perhaps realizing that Edmund could hear her, she quickly covered her mouth and looked at Edmund pitifully.

"No, no." She quickly looked away, staring at the floor, but her voice lacked confidence. "Sir is such a good person, how could he do such a thing..."

"I won't sell you," Edmund said with a smile.

A complete idiot like you, who perfectly embodies the "rags-to-riches" trope, is hard to find even with a lantern.

"Um…"

Esther felt even more uncertain.

"Sir, but... but I still want to do something for you. Just consider it my way of repaying you for taking me in last night."

"Whether it's tidying up your furniture, cleaning, or anything else."

Esther shuffled over to Edmund's side, tilting her head back and looking pitifully at Edmund, who was about to leave.

"Furnishings?"

Edmund's face, which hadn't shown a smile in a long time, suddenly lit up with a hint of joy.

"But you don't even know how to read."

"I..." Esther, eager to prove her worth, was about to speak when Edmund continued.

"A complete idiot who can't even read a single word, do you expect me to know how to arrange all these decorations and ornaments in the living room? How high should the bull horn ornaments on the wall be hung, and how should the longsword stand and shield be displayed?"

"Barons, viscounts, earls... the items and quantities that nobles of different ranks can display vary. Yes, it's a simple matter to take them down and clean them. You can't even remember the characters, so how could you possibly remember how many of each type of decoration should be displayed, or how to put them back in their original positions?"

Esther shook her head, her right hand tightly gripping her left thumb and gently rubbing it together.

"I can actually wash your clothes for you."

"Oh, clothes."

Edmund looked down at the coat he was wearing, which gleamed gold in the sunlight.

"Do you think it should be washed with water or treated with a special magical potion? And how should it be dried after washing? What? Are you planning to find some riverside steps like a country bumpkin and then smash this expensive dress with an old wooden clapper that's been used to scrub my feet, like you're hulling wheat?"

"..." Esther's eyes flickered briefly; that was indeed what she was thinking.

"Alright, even if you can find something you can do, what if the other people in the community find out that someone like you suddenly appears in my house..." Edmund's gaze swept over Esther. "...a strange 'servant' who exudes an air of contempt in every gesture. Won't they think that the 'servant's' master is actually a similarly low-class scoundrel?"

"But...but..." Esther felt that it was quite normal for a gentleman like Edmund to have a servant.

"Stop with the 'buts,' so many things fail because of that one 'but.'" Edmund shook his head. "Listen carefully, Esther."

"Dignity is not just about wrapping your body in exquisite and expensive velvet fabrics. If it were that simple, why would nobles spend tens or even hundreds of times more than buying a slave to select and train a maid from a young age? Why would wealthy merchants spend fortunes just to fit into that decadent upper-class circle?"

"Why should ladies and young women squander the wealth that could feed an ordinary family of five for a year on those unlovable, even somewhat repulsive, kittens and puppies in their arms?"

Edmund leaned against the door, the slanting sunlight streaming through the window illuminating the floating dust in front of him, yet casting an uncertain shadow on his smiling face.

"Do you intend to make them admit that they are actually no different in personality or species from those who struggled to survive on the resources of the dungeon, covered in wounds, with white filth writhing in their blood and rotting wounds, yet still unable to take their last breath—or that they are no different from guys like you?"

"I'm sorry." Esther bit her lip, looked at Edmund, and then glanced at the furnishings in the room.

"And you, sir...?"

"I'm one of them too," Edmund said expressionlessly. "If you want to stay by my side, you have to become one of them, just like me."

Esther felt even more uneasy. She couldn't understand why Edmund would make an exception and take her in when she might have caused him so much trouble.

"Some people are happy to see the homeless freeze to death in the cold wind because they believe that the weak should be trampled on by the strong, and that's how they see the world."

"I'm going out for a bit now. You stay here quietly and don't make any noise. If anyone comes, don't open the door or answer them, just like the owner of this house is out. Of course, if you want to be arrested by the military police for burglary, or get yourself into irreparable trouble because someone else finds you, then I'll have to be blunt."

"Okay, okay..." Esther nodded.

The nun who raised me used to tell me to be careful of these rich people, because they always had some inexplicable strange hobbies, especially in the so-called "training".

They would lure innocent country girls into their estates like sheep out of their pen, then use wicked methods that would make even the devil blush...

But the man gave me food and drink, and even let me take a bath, promising to teach me some things.

That's really hard to understand.

But the gentleman just said: Ladies and young ladies are willing to squander the wealth that would feed an ordinary family of five for a year on the cats and dogs in their arms that are not lovely, and even somewhat repulsive in character.

The tuft of hair on her head twitched: that seemed to make sense.

Just like teaching cats and dogs to poop in a designated spot, he said he wanted to teach me some things so that I could enjoy being with him like a pet without him causing trouble.

Actually, you should be considered... my owner?

"May I call you Mr. Owner?"

Edmund glanced back at Esther.

"From now on, call me Mr. Clemens. Don't use any inelegant titles in public."

"At home, may I still call you Mr. Owner?" Esther, like a cat that had found its nest, quickly accepted her subordinate status to Edmund.

Edmund remained silent, but Esther perceived his expression as saying, "I have no interest in spending time correcting what tone my cat should meow in."

The opened door briefly let in the blue sky and sunlight, then with a soft click, darkness and silence returned like a receding tide.

Esther looked at the warm, burning firewood in the fireplace, the carpeted floor so that even bare feet wouldn't get cold, and the leather sofa with its soft pillows.

She found a warm spot on the sofa, snuggled up to the pillows, and quietly waited for her "owner" to return.

Just like any cat would do.