Chapter 19 ………………………………………….
“Since you say you didn’t know, I’ll let it slide this once—the crime of picking up money from the fountain.”
Of course, his enormous golden tail was swaying left and right without him even realizing it, so he looked anything but dignified.
“Your name is now Ariana von Berkshire.”
Your name has been officially changed to Ariana von Berkshire. Congratulations! You have been formally recognized as a Duchess of the House of Berkshire! Watching you safely take your first step toward becoming a tycoon moves me to tears as well.
‘Little chick, people don’t really use the word “tycoon” much in rofan.’
Didn’t you possess someone because you wanted to get rich? As long as the meaning gets across, who cares? Claim land where oil will gush out! Discover a new continent and make a fortune! Develop Bitcoin and rake it in! Swim in a bed of money! Whatever you want—everything is possible depending on your choices from here on out.
Ariana’s eyes glimmered slowly.
‘Right. I’m sick of poverty. I want to feel what it’s like to be so rich that I’m bored.’
Bored, my foot. Wouldn’t every day be thrilling and happy if you were rich?
I don’t want to be ignored anymore.
I don’t want to be despised for being poor and having nothing.
I don’t want to be compared to others and used as a stepping stone.
How horrible that feels—someone like Chloe, the female lead blessed by the world, will never understand it in her lifetime.
‘What would a hothouse flower know?’
I don’t want to suffer anymore, wondering why I alone wasn’t chosen while looking at peers who seem perfect, as if born selected by the world.
What I want is simple—just to be treated like an ordinary human being.
I just want to breathe properly, that’s all.
“You can go straight out through that entrance.”
The gold dragon pointed toward the exit.
The smallest exit of the dragon’s chamber—the “dragon lair”—was connected to the place where the Berkshire investiture ceremony was being held.
If you walked out bathed in red light, it meant you were truly a blood descendant of Berkshire.
If the entrance shimmered blue, it meant you had been revealed as a fake.
Seeing the exit glow red, Ariana hesitated for a moment.
She had already spoken with the administrator as a tutorial reward.
And yet, somehow, this moment felt like the true beginning of her life.
‘I will inherit Berkshire.’
Anyone who stood in her way would be punished without exception.
The symbolic weight of a child’s investiture ceremony within the House of Berkshire was immense.
All direct descendants were in attendance.
Ariana’s biological father Adrian, who had been abroad for a time, and her two older brothers, Cherdicas and Alexandros, were no exception.
Collateral relatives and retainers eager to make an impression on the main line packed the hall until it was overflowing with people.
The investiture ceremony was truly a massive event.
“Duchess Ariana von Berkshire is entering!”
A hush fell over the crowd.
Creeeak.
Red light seeped through the crack of the opening doors.
‘She really is a blood descendant.’
This time, it wasn’t blue.
It meant that even the gold dragon had certified her as genuine, not a fake.
Cherdicas unconsciously furrowed his brow.
A small life-form stepped lightly inside with the lively gait unique to children.
Her smile, brimming with charm, was adorable.
Ariana smiled more brightly than any sunlight and lifted the hem of her dress with both hands.
She was performing perfect aristocratic etiquette, but what truly caught the eye was undoubtedly the blue dress.
As if cut from the drifting galaxies of the universe, the deep navy fabric scattered a gentle glow in all directions like jeweled stars.
“That dress… isn’t that the Saintess’s dress?”
Raoulette, who was watching, stiffened.
Hamilax responded quietly to her words.
“There’s no way the Holy See would have given that up…”
The third son, Hamilax, glanced toward Schwaben, seated at the place of honor, as if gauging his reaction.
Sure enough, Schwaben’s eyes were wide open.
Schwaben had been the Saintess’s godfather.
Though the Saintess had died young according to the prophecy of the Holy Temple, Schwaben had continued to make astronomical donations to the Holy See ever since.
‘Is this an attempt to inherit the head’s affection for the Saintess as it was?’
Raoulette stared at Ariana—Moltke’s daughter—with displeasure.
Because she still loved Adrian, she was weak toward Cherdicas and Alexandros, who resembled the duke.
But Ariana looked far too much like the late Moltke—openly so.
‘She’ll probably be etched differently in the head’s mind, at least.’
To appear with attire calculated down to the head’s weakness already—how perceptive.
A flicker of intuition passed through her: she shouldn’t look down on this girl just because she came from the slums.
Meanwhile, Dandolo, the son of Raoulette and Hamilax, wore an awkward expression.
When he had shoved Ariana into the fountain earlier, he had believed she was probably a fake.
‘But she’s really genuine…’
And what was with that adorable face?
Even the cold-hearted retainers were swallowing their breaths.
The only female cousin Dandolo had was Christina, the daughter of Schwaben’s second son, Guentner—and Christina was not cute at all.
She was sharp, but far from charming, and thus not a granddaughter who received Schwaben’s affection.
Dandolo himself had never received Schwaben’s gentle gaze, and neither had Cherdicas nor Alexandros.
“If we can squeeze out at least ten gold, that’d be nice.”
Alexandros, Ariana’s second older brother, muttered quietly.
Cherdicas received fifty gold a month for maintenance of dignity, Alexandros thirty—so what they expected of Ariana was about ten gold.
Cherdicas silently observed Ariana’s cute appearance.
Adrian, too, remained quiet.
“She really does look just like Moltke, as the rumors said.”
“Indeed.”
Guentner, the second son and a man treated as a strong candidate for Berkshire’s succession, lightly agreed with his wife Gisela.
Their only daughter, Christina—Ariana’s cousin—wore an expression of keen interest.
If Raoulette was the smartest in the household of the third son, Hamilax, then Christina was the smartest in Guentner’s household.
“How much do you think Ariana will ask for as maintenance?”
“Hard to say. She doesn’t seem very ambitious—she just looks cute.”
“The ones who look innocent are the scariest, Father. Someone who looks openly poisonous, like Raoulette, is actually much easier to deal with.”
At Christina’s composed remark, Guentner and Gisela listened closely.
Christina was wary of Ariana, who had appeared wearing the Saintess’s dress.
Arpe, Schwaben’s youngest daughter, bit at the skin of her lips as she watched Ariana.
Arpe had been the one who monopolized Schwaben’s affection thanks to her charm, but upon seeing Ariana, she instinctively sensed something ominous.
“Arpe.”
Despite her lips being injured by her ornate nails, it was a habitual action she couldn’t stop.
Since there were many people around, Haller—her husband and a live-in son-in-law—checked their surroundings.
With a gentle expression, Haller took Arpe’s hand, stopping her from biting her lips further.
Arpe irritably furrowed her brow, but when she turned her head and saw her husband’s quite handsome face, she soon blushed and calmed down.
“Ariana. Seeing you like this, you’re cute and lovely.”
“It’s been a while, Grandpa.”
At Ariana’s use of the word “Grandpa,” everyone watching was shocked.
The people of Berkshire addressed Schwaben as “Head of the House,” not with familial intimacy.
Collateral relatives, not being part of the direct line, had to call him “Your Highness, the Grand Duke.”
Schwaben himself paused with a surprised expression, but since he was overlapping Ariana with memories of his own childhood, he didn’t correct her.
However, all of Ariana’s cousins—except for her two biological older brothers—twisted their faces in displeasure.
