Chapter 3 ….
How could even his voice be perfect? That warm, pleasant baritone made my heart pound as if it would burst.
“Among the men Zeusia brought, was there ever someone like this—no, someone like him?”
But no matter how I searched my memories, there had never been a man with pink hair mentioned, let alone appearing.
As his hand gently stroked my cheek, past my brow, he whispered words I didn’t understand.
“To think I could hold you like this… It feels like a dream. Surely it must be a miracle granted by the gods.”
No, your face itself is the miracle.
Instead of blurting that out, I held my breath and stared at his face.
He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my wide-open eye and smiled—a smile that looked like he was on the verge of tears.
It was contradictory, but that was the only way to describe his expression.
“Thank you for being born, and thank you for living, my Lira.”
Lira?
Was that my name? But no one had ever called me that.
Instead of clearing up my confusion, the man went on, his eyes wet.
“What shall I do… it seems our Lira takes after her father more than her mother.”
Father…? He just said father?
The man gave a quiet smile, then nuzzled his cheek tenderly against mine and whispered:
“Grow up healthy. And please… protect your mother.”
My beloved Lira.
At that, my eyes began to close.
Wait—don’t put me to sleep yet. I don’t want to… not yet…
But the will of a newborn is more insignificant than a speck of dust.
With his patting hands and the lullaby sung in that sweet voice, I fell asleep in no time.
Though the moon has risen, my baby’s eyes still shine bright as the sun.
Close them now, let the darkness wrap you, painting the sky with starlight.
Dream sweetly, and the morning will be even brighter.
We will meet again tomorrow.
Or even in your dreams, my beloved child.
Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
That tender voice filled with longing stayed by my side until dawn.
With the breaking light of morning, it scattered like a mirage.
Not being able to move my own body was more unbearable than I could have imagined.
And the fact that crying was the only way I could communicate was downright dreadful.
Over the past few years, I came to understand why babies cried so miserably.
At any rate, after surviving that hellish stage of infancy, I had finally become a child.
I wasn’t exactly sure where the line was drawn, but being able to move freely, communicate with words, and go to the bathroom on my own was enough to qualify as a child.
And I was pretty good at all of it.
But I couldn’t stand out too much, so I kept myself at a safe, moderate level—
an obedient temperament, average intelligence, not especially gifted but not flawed either.
A good, ordinary child.
That was the image I worked hard to maintain.
Fortunately or unfortunately, after that bloody first encounter, the Emperor seemed to have completely lost interest in the daughter she had birthed.
In fact, she seemed to have forgotten I even existed.
For the past six years, Zeusia’s only interest was expanding her empire.
While she was pregnant with me, the neighboring countries that had dared provoke the Eastern Empire were thoroughly crushed. She threw herself into war after war, emerging completely victorious.
I hadn’t yet heard any rumors of her bringing back men from the conquered lands, but I knew that someday the Red Chamber would be filled.
At any rate, as the daughter of the most formidable woman on the continent, I had lived through a rather turbulent six years.
Even though I retained the intelligence of an adult, I couldn’t remember every detail of my difficult past.
The mind tended to synchronize with the body’s age, so my ability to think as an adult had its limits.
But there were two things I remembered vividly.
One was the mad Emperor Zeusia swinging her sword at me right after I was born.
The other was—
“Protect your mother.”
The visit from the lullaby man. No—my father.
I must have been about four when I asked Klein about the man with pink hair and sky-blue eyes.
I didn’t know what had happened between Zeusia and my father, but I didn’t care. I simply wanted to go to where he was.
It was natural. Who wouldn’t prefer to live with a kind, handsome father over a crazy mother who’d one day order her own child’s execution?
But Klein’s reaction to my description was unsettling.
“You’ve met him? Where, how?”
“I didn’t really meet him, it was in a dream. Yeah, probably… a dream.”
“…Could it be this man?”
Klein pulled out a scrap of paper, apparently part of a portrait, from an old chest and showed it to me.
It couldn’t fully capture the breathtaking beauty I remembered, but the man in the drawing was definitely my father.
“That’s him! He said he’s my dad. Is he really? What’s his name?”
“How could this be…?”
Klein’s eyes widened in shock. Then, with a bitter voice, she explained my father’s name and title.
He was Calliope Dilohim.
A frontier lord who defended the westernmost border, and a knight so exceptional he was called the Sword of the East Empire.
A radiant beauty who could rival the northern duke or any obsessive male lead—but with martial prowess added on top.
It might sound like I was gushing, but I swear Calliope’s beauty defied every word in existence.
I didn’t know if Zeusia and Calliope had truly loved each other. That was beyond what the original story revealed.
But since I had been born between the two of them, it was clear that Calliope had received some kind of special treatment.
He had held a fairly significant position—so why hadn’t his name even been mentioned in the original story?
The same goes for me.
“In the Imperial Palace, the name of Count Dilohim is taboo. Her Majesty… detests it.”
“Why? Did Daddy do something bad?”
“…Someday, I’ll have the chance to explain.”
The problem was, not even Klein, nor even chatty Senya, would answer any questions about Calliope.
The only man who had blessed my birth.
A father whose life or death was uncertain, who had left me with the request to protect my mother.
I wanted to honor that, if I could.
But my mother was none other than Zeusia.
Sorry, but instead of protecting her, the moment I get noticed, I’ll be sent on the express train to the afterlife.
I was in no position to grant anyone’s request when my own survival was on the line.
The heroine, Sinope, is nine years old now—three years older than me. Which means in about eight years, Zeusia will conquer the Western Empire.
The original novel, The Mad Emperor’s Red Chamber, begins after Zeusia captures the Western Empire’s border and drags the heroine’s stepbrother, Cinnamon, into her harem.
The life goal I had set for myself twenty-five hours after birth remained unchanged:
Before the original story begins, I must sever ties with the palace and make a clean escape.
In other words, within the next eight years, I had to get out of here.
If I want a safe exile and a long, quiet life, I need to prepare thoroughly.
As I stared out the window, reviewing my plans, I must have looked nothing like a six-year-old child, but rather a veteran in her second lifetime.
“Little Lady, the birthday cake has arrived. Please come down quickly!”
“I’m coming, Klein!”
Klein, who had raised me, was a kind and good person.
Her assistant, Senya, was a bit clumsy but warm-hearted.
Still, calling me ‘Little Lady’ when I’m already six is a bit much…
But it wasn’t their fault.
The Emperor hadn’t given me a name, nor officially announced the birth of a princess.
So “Little Lady” was the only way they could address me.
“Little Lady, you’re even lovelier today. Is it because you’ve turned six?”
“I told you, don’t call me that. Call me Lira.”
At my playful protest, Klein smiled bitterly.
“Just a little longer. Her Majesty will give you a beautiful name. …I’m sure she will.”
