Chapter 87 …
The Adopted Princess Hopes to Escape the Genre
To report today’s events to Duke Delphinium without missing a single detail, this Death Note was essential. Especially for someone like me, who often forgets things.
Since memories fade and become idealized over time, I recorded only the facts in the notebook as concisely as possible. My attention span was always short, after all.
Whatever emotions I felt were always fleeting, and since I didn’t cling to relationships, I didn’t remember faces very well either.
If this had been a one-time encounter, I could have just let it slide. But in this indefinite possession life, incidents like this would occur repeatedly, and my origins could never be changed.
There’s no common ground to be reached with people who belittle what cannot be changed.
If I silently endured being treated without respect once or twice, it would become an unspoken agreement that I was okay with such treatment. Everything is hardest the first time; after that, it becomes easier, and guilt is fleeting.
I had to make sure that, while any guilt remained, I let people know what they did wrong. Otherwise, these pointless power struggles would repeat endlessly.
Some people in this world only learn what’s unacceptable when they hear it from someone else. Of course, many still never get it even when told.
“Ugh… I’m already tired.”
To be less tired later, I’d have to endure this level of exhaustion now. If I got out of here, I’d need to start preparing my presentation.
Now, with this world leaning more toward a “family regret” story than a “child-rearing” one, I had to persuade the duke not with emotions but with irrefutable facts: why he should intervene to help me, and how my mistreatment would reflect on the Delphinium family.
I shook my head with an annoyed expression and stood up. They all seemed confused, probably because I had only been speaking words they couldn’t understand and now was rising from my seat at will.
At that moment, the marquis’s daughter grabbed my wrist and asked:
“Why are you hiding it if it’s nothing? You ignore my gestures, don’t touch what’s offered, and now you’re scribbling in the middle of tea time while ignoring everyone. I tried to let it slide, but we need to know what it is you’re hiding. If it’s really nothing as you say, explaining shouldn’t be hard, right?”
I hesitated briefly—should I waste time explaining when they wouldn’t understand anyway? But this was already the third time they asked, and I couldn’t just brush it off.
Sure enough, the marquis’s daughter would accuse me of ignoring them, and if I didn’t respond, I’d have no defense.
But if I spilled the truth like it was a Death Note, my fragile public reputation—already barely holding together—would crumble entirely.
No, it would be a miracle if I didn’t end up called a crazy person.
So, to protect my social image, I decided to mix in some plausible excuses.
“I wrote them down because the family names are too long and hard to remember. Perhaps we could propose a policy to shorten all surnames to one character and given names to two characters. For example… Coelu? …No, that sounds like ‘koala,’ doesn’t feel right. Then Coiz? Is it the surname that’s the problem? Ah, wait, is ‘Co’ the given name?”
“What… what are you saying…?”
“What are you talking about right now?”
The noble daughters murmured, bewildered. The marquis’s daughter, trembling, asked again:
“Are you insulting everyone here’s family in that way?”
“Excuse me? I was only suggesting a convenient solution…”
These were people who would scream “insulted” if I even breathed.
“…It was a joke.”
Seeing their strong reaction, I quickly tried to calm things down, but the marquis’s daughter sneered at me in disbelief.
“We’re not close enough to exchange jokes like that, are we? Even if you’re ignorant of noble etiquette, that’s incredibly rude. To joke about shortening or changing the names of families with long, historic legacies!”
‘Yes, yes. I am ignorant, rude, and a criminal for suggesting that long family names be shortened.’
She lectured me at length, and I just nodded absentmindedly, letting her ramble.
It was time to end these pointless childish antics.
“So.”
“Yes?”
“We’re neither close enough for jokes nor of the same social rank. So why does it feel like everyone here is teasing me?”
“W-what…?”
I straightened my expression and snapped back, making the marquis’s daughter release my wrist in surprise. She hadn’t expected me to respond by bringing up social rank.
It made sense—I was publicly just a lucky commoner girl who had recently risen in status.
No one would have guessed there was a 24-year-old Korean soul inside, so it wasn’t surprising they underestimated me.
“A joke is only fun if the person being teased enjoys it. This is neither fun nor touching.”
Muttering under my breath, I slipped the notebook and pen back into my pocket.
Before leaving, I paused to give the marquis’s daughter a piece of advice. Otherwise, she’d wake up over the next five years regretting not having said anything.
People say that snapping back makes you the same as them. But is it the same to get hit by someone who’s just sitting there versus someone who attacks first? I’d rather hit one more time if it’s the same person.
“Lady Eloise, I think you should relearn how to prepare tea. If it’s not your skill, could it be the Eloise family is financially struggling? I haven’t heard such news… Anyway, the tea leaves seem spoiled. Otherwise, it wouldn’t smell like that.”
Her face turned redder than ever, flustered by my “concern,” though I felt a little guilty for being so petty.
‘I’m already upset; who cares about their age? I’ll do what makes me feel comfortable, childish or not.’
I ignored all that and focused on myself.
“Even for a duke’s daughter, isn’t that a bit harsh?”
At that moment, the count’s daughter, who had been silent, asked me in reproach.
‘…Hmph.’
Ignoring her, I pulled out my notebook and added more notes.
After scribbling for a while, they all realized I wasn’t just writing names and started questioning me again.
“What are you writing now?”
“It doesn’t seem like just names. And what’s the point?”
“You’re not planning to tell someone outside about what happened here, are you?”
Oh—so not everyone here was foolish. One of the quick-witted kids had noticed.
I didn’t answer, and the nobles took that as confirmation, erupting in outrage:
“It’s unbecoming for ladies to take our affairs outside!”
“Y-yes!”
“And what did we even do…?”
“You’re not planning to rush off to the duke and his sons to report or slander us, are you? Even if you were a commoner not long ago, surely not…”
They hadn’t even let me speak, but they created chaos among themselves. I slammed my hands on the table, stood, and made a few rapid-fire statements before closing the door.
“Yes, that’s right. I’ll tell my father and brothers everything that happened today. Goodbye! I’m leaving first!”
Through the closing door, the noble daughters’ incredulous cries leaked out:
“What… what kind of person…?”
Fortunately, no one tried to block or trap me. The marquis’s daughter’s expression as she stared at me, as if thinking “what a lunatic,” made me chuckle.
You may have entered society years before me, but I’ve lived longer in life.
‘I’m not hiding anything. I’ll spill every single detail.’
Now, I had to retrace my steps to return to the ballroom for the emperor and empress’s meeting. Then a problem struck me:
‘Oh right. I’m terrible with directions. I should have brought a servant…’
No matter how much I walked, I had no idea where I was. It was dark—probably a rarely used area—which made it worse.
Earlier, I had no worry because I followed the count’s daughter, but now… I might be late and earn a stern glare.
I wandered the vast palace aimlessly, looking for someone who could help.
“Who are you? This isn’t a place anyone can just wander into.”
Startled by the voice right behind me, I screamed.
“♬♪♩♬♪♪♩♬♪♩♬!”
