Chapter 42
I wanted to say, What does it matter? but swallowed the words in front of the duke.
“Because you’re the duke, of course.”
I hoped the conversation would end there, but unfortunately, the duke seemed to latch onto that title.
“Well, that’s true. My daughter, from now on, you may call me ‘Father.’”
Even with his permission, my body stiffened like stone.
Father? He wants me to call him Father?
That word carried no good memories.
Father! I was wrong! Please spare me!
The first thing that came to mind was my birth father, the Evil Dragon.
But the real reason I came to despise the word was because of Regan.
After saving me, Regan had become my guardian.
Since Regan is my guardian now, I should call him Father.
That’s what I thought, and I tried calling him that.
The reaction was terrifying.
Ariel, you’re the daughter of the Evil Dragon. Don’t you dare use that word so carelessly.
If I ever slipped and said it again, he’d lock me in a small, dark box.
The punishment I hated most.
My hands clenched, and without realizing it, I shook my head.
“N–no. I don’t want to.”
From that day on, a chill spread through the duke’s mansion.
Creeeak—
The sound of the door startled Orwell, who opened it with extreme care.
When the duke’s temper was this sharp, even small noises could be dangerous.
But Duke Clasta dismissed his caution with a cutting voice.
“Do you always open and close doors so noisily? Seems you’ve got complaints about me.”
“N–not at all, my lord.”
Orwell sighed quietly.
Since the duke’s quarrel with Ariel, the atmosphere of the mansion had been unbearable.
The duke nitpicked every report, making his adjutant rewrite them again and again.
The knights endured hellish training in the name of discipline, and the maids walked as if their footsteps might be punishable.
At that moment, Countess Fremeng arrived.
“Still sulking, brother? Don’t be so discouraged. Adopted children rarely form attachments to their new families.”
“……”
When the duke said nothing, she went on.
“That girl is really too much. You’ve treated her so well. What’s so hard about calling you Father? Even Wijen’s worried you’ll make yourself ill.”
Orwell frowned.
It sounded like she was comforting the duke, but in truth she was blaming Ariel.
Won’t that just deepen the rift? Doesn’t she realize the young lady must have her own reasons?
But he didn’t dare speak out. The duke cherished the countess as though she were his deceased younger sister.
The duke gazed blankly at the ceiling.
Everything irritated him.
Even the breeze slipping through the open window felt offensive.
It reminded him of the stifling frustration he’d felt back in the capital, when his request to go outside had been denied.
Fine. I admit it. I must’ve wanted to grow closer to her.
After a year together, he’d grown attached without realizing it.
Yet Ariel still called him stiffly, “My lord duke.”
He knew, as a grown man, it was childish to be upset.
But he couldn’t stop feeling hurt.
Maybe I just hate meddling in the first place.
Even without his interference, she had won over the maids and earned the knights’ trust.
Somehow, he was afraid to face her.
He no longer knew how he ought to treat her.
Ariel felt just as lost.
This was her first real clash with the duke.
Though he hadn’t scolded her, their lunch table had been filled with heavy silence.
“Ariel, does the food not suit your taste?”
“It’s delicious.”
They had never been very talkative, but it had never been this awkward.
Countess Fremeng and Wijen broke the silence with cheerful chatter.
“Brother, this is so good! If you allow it, I’d steal this chef for our family.”
“Truly, Uncle! I’ve never had steak this delicious before.”
“Is that so.”
Ariel tried to join the conversation, but the countess was faster.
“Mm, the meat is so tender. Oh, didn’t Father love steak too?”
“He did.”
There it was again—family stories Ariel had no part in.
Lately, such stories came up more and more.
When they did, Ariel could say nothing.
“And Father even made contracts to raise his own cattle for steak…”
Ariel listened quietly while the three of them reminisced, eating in silence.
She didn’t want to risk ruining the duke’s mood by speaking out of turn.
The duke, noticing her silence, found his knife hesitating.
The countess frowned at the sight.
Why is Brother acting like this?
Never before had the duke looked like this toward someone he quarreled with.
Has he actually grown attached to her?
That must not happen.
Otherwise, what of her son?
All of the duke’s vast estates, glittering jewels, and loyal knights might slip away.
I’ll have to play my card.
After the meal, Ariel returned to her room with a heavy sigh.
This is so hard.
It would be easier to fight monsters barehanded than to deal with this.
When she lived with Regan, if she erred, she’d simply beg forgiveness, and he would eventually relent.
Would the duke forgive me if I begged?
She’d even kneel if he would allow it.
But somehow she felt he would only grow angrier.
Then maybe I should give him a gift.
Regan had always been pleased when she brought valuable information or great achievements.
The duke too had smiled with pride when she won the martial arts tournament.
Or… I could just call him Father…
“Fa—…”
But before she could finish the two short syllables, it felt as if invisible hands were choking her throat.
Have you repented enough?
She gasped for air and rushed to the window.
The vast, open sky helped steady her breath.
Calm down. I’m not in the box. Not anymore.
As she leaned against the windowsill, Countess Fremeng approached.
“Ariel, are you all right? You’re not unwell, are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“It must be hard, with things so strained between you and my brother.”
“……”
“Why not make the first move? Give him a gift and apologize. He’ll be delighted.”
“A gift?”
When Ariel showed interest, the countess sweetened her voice.
“Yes. When my sister and I quarreled with him, we always made flower crowns to apologize. The flowers are in bloom now, and I can even assign you a servant to guide the way.”
What are you plotting?
Ariel hesitated, then nodded.
If it was genuine kindness, it might mend things with the duke.
If it was a trap, then she could turn it against the countess and drive her out of the castle.
Guided by the servant, Ariel entered the forest.
“Aren’t we going too deep?”
The servant answered politely.
“There are many beautiful flowers further in.”
He pulled his coat tight against the cold as they walked deeper.
“Here will do, miss. These are the duke’s favorite flowers.”
Since few people passed this way, the flowers bloomed in abundance, even to Ariel’s eyes beautiful.
Please let this help me make peace with the duke.
She began weaving them carefully into a crown.
I don’t know if he’ll actually like it, but…
At least she was doing something, which eased her heart.
With the servant’s help, she finished most of the crown. That was when she spotted a vivid blue flower blooming on a cliffside.
Its large, radiant petals resembled the duke himself.
Though the cliff looked dangerous, she thought she could manage if careful.
Step by cautious step, Ariel reached for the flower—and plucked it.
At that instant, she sensed an attack from behind.
She rolled swiftly aside as a dagger buried itself where she had been standing.
“I knew it. Too well-trained for a mere servant. So the plan was to shove me off a cliff?”
“So the martial arts tournament champion has sharp reflexes. Impressive.”
The “servant” dropped his meek act and brandished a gleaming dagger.
“Did Countess Fremeng send you? If you fail, her life will be in danger too. Aren’t you afraid of the consequences?”
“No one will ever know you died here.”
And indeed, in this deep forest, there was no one else.
“You think I’ll die so easily?”
“Enough talk. Stalling won’t save you!”
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Daggers flew, stabbing into the earth in rapid succession.
Ariel planted her hands on the ground, flipping gracefully through the air to evade them.
In front, an assassin. Behind, a cliff.
Determined not to let her rest, the assassin hurled another blade.
Ariel tilted her head, dodging—only for the magic-infused dagger to twist in midair and dart back toward her.
“Confident, aren’t you? You’re strong.”
Ariel spoke calmly, eyes on the incoming blade.
At this rate, she’d be skewered like a hedgehog.
Her serenity unsettled the assassin, who felt a prickle of dread.
“But what now? …Because I’m stronger.”
