Episode 11
“Do you really think Mom calling you her daughter means you are her real daughter? You—”
I met that inexplicable hostility head-on.
Then I realized something.
“Oh — he’s scared I’ll take his place.”
Thinking that, annoying Inos Obré suddenly seemed a little cute — just a kid trying to guard his turf. I can understand that instinct. Even tiny creatures have boundaries.
“No,” I answered firmly.
I’ve never had any illusions about that. Family? Love? I’d already thrown all of that away the day I was killed by that crazy scientist.
“I won’t be family with you guys.” I said.
“What?” he snapped.
“If you beg me, I still won’t. Don’t worry about it.” I mean, I only have like six or seven years left anyway — “family” is a joke. I came to this house to get away from the scientist and to build a base for revenge. Rich merchants and, even more, nobles made revenge easier. Being adopted into a noble family wasn’t what I planned, but honestly it worked out.
“In other words, you won’t become family?” he repeated.
“Yeah, I won’t.”
“Then why are you here…?”
“You know. They said if I act like their daughter I could live comfortably,” I told Inos with a smile. “That’s all.”
“…That’s it?” he said.
“Yeah, that’s it.” If I’d stayed where I was, I’d just end up a test subject again. No thanks.
I draped my hand on Inos’s shoulder. “So act well for Mother. Don’t be clumsy like earlier.”
He looked weird about that, but he didn’t grab me. I turned toward the door — lucky. Family… ha. What a joke.
If they were really going to be family, they wouldn’t just stand by knowing they’d die. Yeah, not funny.
Clatter, clatter — the sound of dishes. Not “nice” in a warm way, but loud enough.
“Too loud, Inos. I told you not to make noise with the dishes.”
“…Sorry.”
“And I heard you hugged Mother again. I told you not to — she’s not feeling well.”
“…That’s…”
It was awkward. Me, Lord Obré, and Inos were having breakfast. “You’re worse than the little sister who just came back,” someone said, and really, yeah — of course I’d be worse. I spent my life in an orphanage trained in etiquette while the mad scientist didn’t even give me proper meals. I learned not to screw up manners.
“…I’m sorry.” Inos’s voice fell heavy. He glared at me like I might start something. Ugh, annoying.
I glanced at Lord Obré. If someone in the family was ill, this is what happened: the duke would circle and protect the duchess, Inos would grow up lonely — no wonder he was touchy. He lacked confidence.
I popped a piece of steak into my mouth and thought: if things don’t smooth between Inos and the duke, we’ll be in trouble later. Are they not lacking love? No, the duke really loves his family — he’s just bad at showing it. He’d hurt himself before he’d hurt his son. I stopped moving my utensils for a second.
Something felt off. There was something mixed in my memory — another life memory seemed stuck in with “Anisha”’s memories. I couldn’t place it.
“Anette.”
“Yes, Father.” I straightened when the duke’s voice called me. He looked displeased, frowning.
“What’s the matter?”
“I was just spacing out,” I said.
“Spaced out during a meal?”
Both the duke and Inos stared at me weirdly. I glanced down — only a small salad and a couple of steak bites left.
“That’s it?” he said.
“Yeah… If that’s too little, I can eat more,” I offered.
“No.” He waved me off. I started to pick up my utensils again and he snapped, “Did you eat that little at the orphanage?”
“Yes. If you eat too much, your brain gets dull and your body slows down.”
“Your body slows down?”
“Well, we had classes and chores. You need energy for both.”
“Chores? You made the kids work?”
What a naively clueless question — I thought. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch,” I said. Shangri-La orphanage handed out rewards and punishments. If you did well, you got treats. If not, you sometimes starved.
I’d forgotten what being full felt like a long time ago. If it weren’t the first day here, I might never have remembered.
I stood up with a small laugh. “I’m done eating. Can I go now?”
“Fine. A tutor will come in a week; start lessons then.”
“Okay.”
“And before that, I’ll take you north to meet someone. Just so you know.”
“Okay.”
He set his chin on his hand and watched me with a sour face. Kind of grumpy-looking. “You never ask anything,” he said.
“Huh?”
“Don’t you want to ask what lessons you’ll take, who you’ll meet, or when we’ll go?”
I tilted my head. “If I ask, will anything change?”
“…No, obviously not.”
“Then why should I be curious? Nothing will change.”
His expression went odd, then he waved his hand and told me to go. I bowed to leave, but paused.
“Uh, could I maybe see the capital? Just quick?”
“The capital?”
“Yeah — it’s my first time out.”
I blushed a little at saying it. I’d lived in a tiny world before and after my rebirth — cellars and orphanage halls — I’d barely been outside.
“If it’s hard, it’s okay,” I added.
“Why would it be hard? Who said you couldn’t go?” He surprised me. “I’m busy today, but maybe tomorrow.”
“…Huh?”
He said “maybe” like he might or might not go. I frowned — what does “might” mean? Is he coming with me or not? He looked like he was waiting for something. I hesitated and then asked carefully:
“Father… if you’re not too busy, could you go with me?”
He sniffed and gave a small laugh. “I’m annoyed, but I’ll go. Just this once.”
Duke Shacol Obré said it very primly. His quick answer made the room go quiet for a beat.
