Chapter 56
Dad held my hand tightly as we went down the dark stairs so I wouldn’t trip, but even that didn’t seem enough for him—so he lifted me in his arms and carried me down.
Only when we finally stepped outside did my feet touch the ground again.
“I’m not a child, you know.”
I spoke sulkily, and he chuckled as he replied.
“To my eyes, you’ll always be a child. Whenever I see you, I feel an endless urge to protect you like this.”
Breathing in the cool night air and stepping forward one pace at a time, I was overcome with emotion.
Come to think of it, even in my last dream, he had been out for a night walk.
The place I had seen in that dream appeared before me now. The moment when Luka had left me was still vivid.
Was that really a part of the original story? Remembering that untimely warning, I drifted into thought—until Dad spoke to me.
“It’s nice, walking together like this instead of always by myself.”
His silver hair gleamed under the blue moonlight, fluttering like a scene from a painting. The thought that it all looked like a masterpiece flashed unrealistically through my mind.
As we matched our steps and left the sound of our footsteps in the quiet garden, he said,
“The lady in that portrait I showed you earlier always told me, ‘Our daughter is truly a blessing, an irreplaceable gift.’”
His blue eyes settled on me.
“And I’m so thankful you grew up just as she said, my kind daughter.”
He knew very well that I hadn’t come to his office late at night simply because I couldn’t sleep.
That gentle voice made me remember when I had first come to the Duke’s estate.
Back then, I had wondered if the emptiness deep inside my heart could be filled—and so I had reached out and held his hand.
Now, I grasped that same rough yet warm hand once more and smiled brightly, as though boasting to the moon above that I had gained another precious family.
But more importantly—
“Dad, you still can’t sleep, can you?”
His wide-awake blue eyes didn’t match my goal at all.
I should have realized the moment I saw him drinking coffee in the middle of the night that he had already given up on sleep.
Clearly, this method wasn’t going to work.
In the end, I resolved to use Plan B.
Even after our peaceful night stroll, the lights in Dad’s office remained on—unsurprising, since the owner of the room had no expectation of sleep.
“I still can’t sleep… Could you put me to bed?”
That uncharacteristic request was all part of Plan B.
My eyes sparkled desperately as I looked at him.
Not knowing my scheme, he softly said, “If that’s what you want,” and I smiled inwardly in triumph.
It was time to use that.
There was a door in the office that led to his bedroom.
Opening it, I stepped into a room as large as his office, but with nothing inside except a single bed.
The window was wide open, letting in the cool night breeze that stirred the curtains. The place was spotless, almost unnaturally so—as if rarely used, maintained only by the servants’ daily cleaning.
I slipped into the wide, soft bed.
“Dad, are you really going to put me to sleep tonight?”
He smiled and nodded at my expectant gaze, but looked at a loss about what to do.
Who teaches who how to sleep, after all? Dad probably had no idea how to fall asleep himself, let alone how to help someone else.
The only “method” he knew was collapsing into unconsciousness after days of sleeplessness.
Lying side by side, I was reminded of nights at the orphanage when Luka and I would lie down together. That boy couldn’t sleep without me holding his hand.
So, I took Dad’s hand.
“Sing me a lullaby!”
He looked startled at my request, but since he had promised to help me sleep, he seemed to fumble through his memory for a melody.
Still, he had raised three children. Surely somewhere in those distant memories lingered the song his beloved wife used to sing.
“Close your eyes… even if the fairies of the night whisper to you, sleep soundly. On this starry night, the Saint will descend and hold you warmly…”
His low, awkward voice sang the words, and I smiled, encouraging him.
“As warm as the feathers of a swan swimming across the lake… oh, always…”
He drew out the last note, unable to recall the next line. I couldn’t help but giggle at how uncharacteristically cute he seemed.
So I picked up the song myself.
“Tonight the moonlight will brighten the sky. Don’t be afraid—close your eyes, child.”
It was a lullaby I had first heard at the orphanage from Serin-unnie.
Every sleepless child, noble or commoner alike, had heard this song until it was etched into their ears.
When I first arrived at the orphanage, I too had struggled to adapt to the strange place and strange people, tossing and turning at night.
Each time, Serin-unnie would pat me gently and sing this magical lullaby that lulled me to sleep.
As I grew older, I in turn sang it countless times to younger children who couldn’t fall asleep.
And now, after all this time, I was singing it to my father.
At the orphanage, my lullaby was nicknamed “sleeping pill.” Kids would drop off almost instantly when I sang, as though my voice had been coated with sedative.
Had I been a professor, I might have been able to put an entire classroom to sleep.
“Don’t fear the night, don’t hide alone. I’ll be with you—so sleep well, sleep peacefully.”
At the same time, from the artifact I had brought with me, a faint, invisible magic seeped out.
‘Isn’t there anything that could help with insomnia? Or maybe I could cure it with healing magic?’
‘Have you been struggling to sleep lately, young lady?’
The last time Jen visited, I had asked him about curing insomnia.
‘Not me… someone else.’
I hadn’t told him it was Dad. The Duke’s household illness wasn’t something to spread outside.
‘There isn’t such an artifact yet. But insomnia can be cured with healing magic. If so, it would be better to enchant an artifact with it.’
He had summoned a small round artifact into my hand.
‘Enchant it?’
‘Yes. Since using your magic too much would burden your body, channel only a tiny bit of healing magic into this amplification artifact. It will magnify it a hundredfold.’
His calculations showed that even the smallest amount could be amplified greatly.
‘Something that useful exists? If you have more, I’ll buy them.’
‘Unfortunately, this amplification artifact can’t be bought. It’s a masterpiece left behind by the first Tower Master—the Tower’s treasure. You’ll have to return it later.’
‘The Tower’s treasure? And you’re lending it to me?’
‘Of course. You’re a registered mage of the Tower, after all—you have the right.’
Since then, the tiny bit of magic I had stored inside had steadily grown stronger, enough to treat Dad’s chronic insomnia—not just tonight, but beyond.
My singing voice and the artifact’s warm magic wrapped around the dark bedroom. Soon, Dad and I should both drift into deep sleep…
Or so I thought.
“…?”
I blinked. His deep blue eyes still stared at me, fighting to stay open despite the heavy drowsiness pressing down.
“Dad… you’re not sleepy?”
“Not at all. But if you keep singing, perhaps one day I might fall asleep.”
Impossible! He had been sleepless for years, and the artifact’s power was strong. A normal person would have been out instantly. Yet he resisted!
All because…
“Won’t you keep singing?”
Even as sleep weighed heavily on him, he said that.
“Un-under the starry sky we lie—”
And so I sang all the way to the third verse.
“Now you must sleep, child. The song is ending, so please, sleep, child—”
It was as if the songwriter had foreseen stubborn children who still wouldn’t sleep by the third verse, and had added the plea.
At last, when I began the first note of the fourth verse, Dad finally succumbed. His eyelids closed, and he fell asleep with a peaceful face, like a child.
I let out a breath of relief. His endurance was monstrous—yet all just to hear more of my singing.
Watching him breathe evenly in slumber, I too closed my eyes as drowsiness claimed me.
The artifact’s magic was nearly spent.
At least tonight, may he dream sweet dreams.
The warmth of his hand in mine was comforting.
‘My child, grow strong and live happily, more than anyone else.’
As I sank into deep sleep, a gentle voice brushed past my ears.
