Tanaka family, reincarnated.

My mother was a tough man.

"Hilda, how many times do I have to tell you? The angle of thanks is too shallow."

Being the only daughter of the Duke's family, I endured every day the hysterical words of my mother, whom I dubbed:

Even after acquiring a single manoeuvre, I deliberately glanced at him to look for a bad place, and began to concentrate especially on pointing out the angle of gratitude.

His father took up a heavy position in the country, so much so that he didn't come back, and there was no reason for the servants to help him. Really, his life went on alone every day.

Nothing questioned, even withstood my mother's hysteria, time passed, and it was the year I went to school.

All the classes I choose were also decided by my mother and I even took classes to be a good daughter-in-law.

I met my mentor in my third year of school in an advanced courtesy class.

I couldn't even thank my mother enough for the angle, but I was able to move on to the advanced level.

"Doctor, you really get the wrong angle of gratitude. My mother always scolds me..."

Dr. Anne was kind enough to tell me with my long forehead in my ear.

"The most important thing about manners is the attitude of mindfulness to think about them and not make them uncomfortable, Hilda. But some people think it's beautiful to be a thousand different, to give the same thanks, while others will find it inadequate. Even the same person may change the mood of the day"

That's exactly what my mother did.

In the morning, shallow thanks make me angry. At night, when I thank you deeper than in the morning, I get angry when it's too deep.

The next morning, when I thank you for being around yesterday, again, I get angry when I thank you too deeply. I noticed that this was repeated for years, but I couldn't even answer my mother.

Just shut up and wait for the hysteria to leave, and do it over.

"Why can't you do what you're told? What a bad boy? All you have to do is listen to me. I always told you, if you don't find courtesy as well as I do, a nice man will see you."

I'm right.

Attacks on those who believed it was wrong are unforgiving. Even if I was really right, is it something I have to be able to interact with so much?

Dr. Anne also taught me how to protect my heart.

Thanks to the various angles in front of the mirror, he repeatedly guided me to the most beautiful looking angle using the indexer.

"Hilda, you look a little bigger when you get up when you thank people deeper because you're taller. So this angle would be best right now. From now on, each meeting, thanksgiving, and courtesy under your ministry must be decided at this angle. If you still get the same pointer from your mother, verify it with me again. If your mother's point falls apart every time, don't change it."

It was the first time. Who told me that maybe my mother would be more wrong?

Both the servants of the mansion and their fathers, who only occasionally returned, moved according to their mother's words. That's the soonest I give up because hysteria is over.

All that, when I learned that the words of my mother, who kept screaming so hard, had not reached anyone, I began to wonder if my mother was a poor person.

Every day, every day, I thank my mother for the same angle.

My mother pointed out, every day, every day, different.

I felt confident after I was convinced, as my mother said, that I was not even a decent person to thank. My heart is lighter.

I asked Dr. Anne to help me and measure all the angles of what she did that looked most beautiful.

When I realized, there was one more person, one more companion, in an empty classroom where I was alone with the teacher.

There were a lot of young ladies who were suffering just like me just because they didn't know.

In my case, it was my mother, but it varied from being a father, tutor, and mistress of an apprenticeship destination, but they were all equally troubled and afflicted.

Height, weight, face size, neck length, shoulder width... everything is different from people.

Find the most beautiful looking angle of the person.

One criterion emerged for what has always been ambiguous.

If you wear this angle, however pointed out, you can protect your own mind.

It leads to confidence and becomes even more appealing.

For me, courtesy became a weapon to protect myself.

I'll marry you, have kids, and as you grow up, I'll have you angled and armed.

In particular, Mersa at the bottom was smart and courteous enough to find her own angle early on.

Melsa chooses a school class that I was unable to learn, supposedly in mathematics, physics, demonology, economics, and even more difficult, and the lady told me she couldn't.

A male victory, Melsa went on to mend her fine grades, whether she was told in the pubic mouth or advised that the pile leaving would be struck.

"How can I let my daughter like me if I'm as tough on manners as you?

Some of the aristocratic societies with male superiority came to ask heartless questions.

But Melsa has acquired courtesy early on. I'm letting that kid have a weapon to protect himself. Then you just have to like it.

"Just because a woman is smarter than a man doesn't mean she has bad manners"

I've probably gotten stronger, too.

Time flies, and by the time I was a grandson's generation, I was no longer as polite as I used to be. It's a recent trend to say that it's love that's more important than parents sticking tough too.

When it was time to cede the title to my son and start thinking about retiring, Mersa at the bottom brought her daughter Emma.

"Mother, please put this child on me. Somewhat... No, please be strict."

Melsa was married to the realm of the border, and her first meeting with her grandson was about a few weeks before she came over to the king's capital.

As far as Emma was concerned, she was wearing a veil with a scar on her face or something.

With the impression that the three brothers were not at their finest, but not so bad, they grew up in the countryside of the border properly.

"Melsa, calm down. What's wrong......!!!

Emma wasn't wearing a veil that day.

A terrible scar not resembling the adorable face you see for the first time is engraved on your right cheek. The colour of my eyes, which looked up at me as a precious, unlike the other brothers, was green.

Thin pigmented, clear and likely sucked green.

It's the color of the Duke Sullivan house.

I laugh fuzzily when my eyes meet. A small, laid-back, luxurious body with a soft, serene, fluffy face, unlike Hilda or Leonardo.

Younger than real age, unreliable atmosphere. Terrible scars will remain even as they grow.

"Okay. Emma, for a month, come to us after school. Let's get a carriage ready."

This kid needs to have a weapon.

If I have to live with this scar from now on.

The most powerful weapon I've ever given you.

It could get a little harsh.

But.

For that matter, I want to equip you with all the gear you can so you don't get hurt.

Manor ghost retirement is going to be a little further.