“Your Highness, please come this way.”
Count Burel guided Heaven and Plita to the head of the table. Once they were seated, the other nobles found their own places and sat down.
The banquet arranged by the count was not bad at all. In fact, it was so well-prepared that it was hard to believe it had been organized in such a rush. Perhaps it was only natural, given that the seat was for the Grand Duke.
“Grand Duke, it’s been a long time. I didn’t get a chance to see you at the last memorial service…”
“Your Highness, I am McGrian. We are currently developing mines in our territory…”
Throughout the banquet, numerous nobles hovered around Heaven, engaging him in conversation. Some of it was idle chatter, but some contained business matters that deserved careful attention.
However, Heaven could not focus on their words. His attention was entirely on Plita, who sat beside him. Since Roze couldn’t be there, she had only him to rely on…
“Daddy.”
At that moment, Plita blinked while holding her fork and called him. The nobles, who had been chatting loudly around them, fell silent instantly. In the quiet, Heaven inclined his head toward the child.
“Why? Doesn’t the food suit your taste?”
“No, it’s delicious.”
Plita shook her head in response, then rolled her pale green eyes slightly before continuing.
“I can eat by myself.”
“I see… you’ve grown up.”
Heaven raised his eyebrows at the unexpected comment, then awkwardly praised her. It seemed absurd yet endearing that a little girl of barely five years old could claim she could eat alone.
But Plita didn’t seem to be seeking praise. She furrowed her brow slightly and added an explanation.
“So, Daddy, you can talk comfortably with the others.”
“What?”
“I heard there’s a separate lounge for male nobles. You can go there and have a proper conversation.”
Heaven was momentarily speechless at her words.
‘Do five-year-olds usually act like this?’
He wanted to ask Roze, though she wasn’t present at the moment.
“Hehe. What a remarkable young lady. A daughter who understands her father’s heart. If our children had been this sensible at her age, it would have saved us a lot of trouble.”
One of the older nobles nearby chuckled heartily and praised Plita. Other nobles joined in the applause.
“Indeed. So young, yet already so mature.”
“Of course, she’s of the Ganterus bloodline. Noble blood shows itself eventually.”
Plita’s face turned red as praise, unfamiliar to her, poured in from all directions. Watching her, Heaven furrowed his brow and spoke again.
“Are you really able to stay alone?”
“Yes, but I won’t be alone. I’ll play with the older boys and girls over there.”
Heaven followed her gaze toward a group of children, a few years older than Plita, sitting together.
“Hmm… very well, then I shall step away for a while.”
Heaven sighed and rose from his seat. Plita gave him a reassuring smile.
Once Heaven left, the noblewomen who had been exchanging glances slowly started talking again. Of course, it was a conversation far beyond a child’s participation.
Plita quickly finished her dessert and put down her fork. She then stood and, as she had told her father, approached the group of boys and girls.
“Um…”
Adela, Count Burel’s daughter, seemed to lead the conversation among the children. Some of the other young nobles, attempting to imitate adults, glanced at Plita with exaggerated expressions.
“Oh, Your Highness.”
Adela lowered her eyes slightly and greeted Plita. The other children followed suit, bowing politely. But that was all. No one invited her to join their conversation or play, nor offered a seat.
As a result, Plita had to stand alone while everyone else was seated. The noble children, sneering, continued their conversation.
“Can I… stay here too?”
Plita fidgeted but found courage to speak. The children exchanged glances, then reluctantly gave her space. Plita smiled in relief and sat down.
Yet nothing really changed. They continued their conversation among themselves.
Plita’s initial excitement faded into a gloomy expression, but she refused to give up. She wanted to show her father that she could manage on her own.
“Um…”
As she tried to join the conversation, one of the children glanced at her and spoke.
“Your Highness, may I ask you something?”
“Yes? Of course!”
Plita’s eyes sparkled in gratitude. But the child leaned forward, wearing a malicious grin.
“Do you know what a bastard is?”
“…!”
Plita’s pale green eyes trembled. The child pressed on, taunting her.
“Do you know what it means? Don’t you?”
“Um… well…”
Plita struggled to answer, only clenching her hands tightly in response. The child tilted their head in mock confusion.
“Huh? That’s strange. I thought Your Highness would know. Isn’t that right?”
The child shrugged, glancing at the others, eliciting giggles from around the group. Then the child turned back to Plita.
Plita, small and trembling, looked on the verge of tears. The child’s cruel smile deepened.
Clearly, she was an easy target. Though she held the title of ‘Princess,’ it barely mattered here.
This timid child could be bullied without daring to complain to her parents—her father, the Grand Duke, no less.
Moreover, how could she tell her father she was asked what a bastard is… when she herself was one? This was a major vulnerability.
The child, though young, was cunning, arrogant, and cruel. Plita was the perfect target.
“Ah, you’re too young to understand? Or…”
Half-blood?
Born of lowly blood?
The child glanced around and whispered so softly that the adults couldn’t hear, but the other children could.
“So that’s why you don’t want to answer, Your Highness?”
“No.”
Plita let out a small, trembling sound. But when she spoke again, the tremor had vanished.
“My mother is not lowly. I am not half-blood. I am the daughter of my father and mother. I am not a bastard. I am simply my father and mother’s daughter.”
Plita no longer cried. She didn’t call for Heaven. The child’s malicious smile faltered. As they tried to speak again, Plita suddenly stood.
All eyes turned to her. Some children exchanged nervous glances at her unexpected defiance.
“…How childish, all of you. Even though you’re older than me.”
Plita spoke without hesitation, ignoring formalities. She didn’t want to be polite.
“Ugh!”
She spun on her heel. The child who had been tormenting her shouted, but Plita ignored it, covering her ears as she walked away.
‘I don’t need them.’
She muttered silently.
‘I don’t need friends like that. I won’t play with older kids who are more childish than me.’
“…I’m not lonely. I’m not sad. I have Roze, and I have Hayan too.”
Plita murmured aloud, pausing, her breath trembling. She rubbed her reddened eyes with her hand and took a deep breath.
She wanted to return to her room, to be in Roze’s arms, to be fed snacks, to tumble on the bed with Hayan.
Being here with those idiots…
“…I’m going. Roze.”
Plita whispered, voice quivering. She had held back her tears in front of the noble children, but in truth, she was just a five-year-old child.
She had completely forgotten her promise to Heaven to stay in her place, looking around as she sobbed quietly.
She didn’t know how to bear her pain. She was too young. She sought the person she trusted most to comfort her—sometimes wishing it was her mother.
“Roze…”
