Chapter 20
Something was strange about Olga today.
“Alright, Lady Ivi! I have a special assignment for you today.”
Smiling brightly, Olga handed Ivi a notebook and some ink.
“Ta-da! You’ll be writing about ‘My Ideal Father.’ Sounds fun, right?”
“…Chuu? (Why all of a sudden?)”
It’s true that adoption is my goal—but not because I long for a loving family.
The reason I want to be adopted is for my health.
I just need to recover here, save up some money, and eventually become independent.
So I’ve never even thought about what an ‘ideal father’ would be like.
Olga blinked, clearly thrown off by Ivi’s lackluster response.
“W-well, you never know, right? Maybe the fairies will hear your wish and bring you the father you dream of!”
“……”
Ivi’s cloudy eyes made Olga laugh awkwardly.
“I-It’s true! Fairies exist! I’ve seen one myself.”
“Piyu.”
Fine. I’ll let you keep your innocence, Olga.
With a sigh, Ivi dipped one of her tiny feet into the inkwell and began stamping letters onto the notebook, leaving little footprints as she wrote.
My ideal father? That’s actually easy.
Just write the exact opposite of Count Rusten.
And so, Ivi’s “Ideal Father” looked something like this:
-
A cultured father who enjoys the arts
-
A father who loves flowers and trees
-
A father who only uses kind words
-
A father who praises me
Hmm, and also…
-
A father who always takes my side
“Chuu chuut! (All done.)”
Olga took the notebook and stared at Ivi’s list for a long moment.
Then she smiled gently.
“Yes. Thank you, Lady Ivi.”
“Chut?”
Huh? Why are you taking it?
“I just need to… um, grade this.”
“Chuut?”
Grade it?
How do you even score something like that?
That evening.
After dinner, the butler approached Ivi.
“The Duke requests your company for tea.”
Using the butler’s arm as a perch, Ivi traveled to the duke’s office.
She waited for him to knock—but then blinked in surprise.
“Chu?”
Huh? You’re not going to knock?
Without a word, the butler simply opened the door and set Ivi gently on the floor before stepping aside.
Ivi scurried inside, puzzled.
There was a tea table set with sweets, a warm orange lamp, and the duke—sitting elegantly with his legs crossed.
He wore reading glasses and was deeply absorbed in a book, looking like a painting come to life.
A completely different person from usual.
When he noticed Ivi, he awkwardly closed his book.
“Ah… I was reading Capital for a New Age by Motta Piketty, as I usually do, and didn’t hear you come in. Sit.”
Usually?
“……??”
Ivi eyed him warily and sat down with visible caution.
The duke looked toward the flower-filled vase at the center of the table.
“These flowers are from the winter garden. I felt guilty cutting them, but I had no choice.”
“…Chut?”
Guilty? You used to trample wildflowers without a second thought.
And what was with that awkward, textbook-reading tone?
More than anything, Ivi was dying to know why she had been summoned for “tea” in the middle of the night.
“Chu chu chu?”
When she stared at him questioningly, the duke gave a faint chuckle.
“I am, after all, a man of refinement who enjoys both culture and flora day and night. You simply never noticed.”
“……”
I did notice you enjoy threatening people’s lives and paychecks, though.
“Remember that well.”
“…Chuut.”
Ivi nodded reluctantly, now half-convinced this was some demon impersonating the duke.
“Anyway, eat and drink as much as you like.”
He gestured at the tea table like it was a banquet.
Thankfully, the tea had been poured into a shallow dish for her convenience.
Ivi sipped it carefully—then noticed a book peeking out from under the sofa beside her.
‘Pretty Words to Use with Children’?
Just then, a piece of madeleine was held up to her mouth.
“Open up.”
She turned her head to see the duke—still wearing glasses—his brow furrowed as if he were nervous.
“…Let’s have a snack.”
“Chu-chupit?!”
Who ARE you?!
Ivi clenched her tiny fists and strained with all her might.
Olga, watching beside her, swallowed hard.
“That’s it, Lady Ivi! A little more! Just a little!”
“Chuuuu!”
Her whole body grew hot with effort until—
Pop!
Soft, fluffy pheromones shimmered into the air around her.
“Yes!”
Olga’s eyes sparkled as she clapped excitedly.
“You did it! Well done, Lady Ivi! That’s pheromone release! My, how clever you are!”
“Chu-chut.”
Ivi waved her hands bashfully. Stop, you’re exaggerating.
“Oh, did I get carried away?” Olga stopped clapping.
“……”
Ivi tugged at her skirt.
Olga began clapping again like a seal, and only then did Ivi relax, waving shyly once more.
“Chu-chut.”
After basking in the praise a little longer, Ivi struck a new pose, full of determination.
Time to practice until it feels natural!
“Chu-chuut!”
Watching her, Olga smiled awkwardly.
“By the way, Lady Ivi… what happened yesterday with the Duke?”
“……!”
“Ever since you had tea with him last night, he’s been… different.”
Ivi immediately knew what she meant.
Because when the Duke had held out that madeleine—
‘Open up. …Let’s have a snack.’
‘Chu-chupit?! (Who ARE you?!)’
—she’d been so shocked that—
Smack!
She had slapped the madeleine right out of his hand.
And the duke, realizing his “mistake,” had muttered under his breath:
‘Should I have said “num-num” instead?’
Whatever had happened, one thing was clear—the duke wasn’t acting normal.
Just then, a light knock came at the door.
“Excuse me, Lady Ivi.”
The butler entered, looking torn between laughter and despair.
“The Duke requests your presence… to have some ‘num-num.’ He also asked me to remind you to ‘brushy-brush’ if you’ve already eaten.”
“……”
Olga pressed her lips tight to stifle her laughter, and Ivi just stared blankly.
Oh no. It really IS a monster wearing the duke’s face…
Two noblewomen were strolling through the garden, chatting leisurely.
“My child’s such a picky eater. She keeps smacking the spoon out of my hand—it’s a nightmare.”
“Hoho, mine used to do that too. I had a trick for it, though. I’d ride the dragon.”
“How do you mean?”
A deep voice cut in suddenly.
The women turned—and nearly froze.
It was Duke Noctis, whose scarred eye made his face even more intimidating.
They flinched—but only for a moment. His rugged yet noble features quickly won their admiration.
And contrary to the rumors that he despised strangers, he was actually being… pleasant?
“Explain. What does it mean to ‘ride the dragon’?”
“O-oh, well! It means, when your child won’t eat, you put food on the spoon and make it fly like a dragon.”
She demonstrated enthusiastically, spoon in hand.
“Whoooosh! The dragon’s flying! Where’s it going? Right into our baby’s mouth!”
“……”
It was ridiculous—but the duke listened with such grave seriousness that she felt obliged to finish the example.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“A dragon, I see. So that’s how I should have done it.”
“Hoho, yes—handling children requires all sorts of tricks. May I ask why you wanted to know, Your Grace?”
The warmth vanished from his expression instantly.
“That is none of your concern.”
He turned on his heel, leaving the baffled ladies behind.
Apparently the rumors about his difficult personality were quite true after all.
Moments after he left, the gossip began to stir—
And by the end of the day, a rumor was flying through the mansion:
“Duke Noctis plans to adopt a squirrel beast-kin child!”
The rumor quickly reached the ever-watchful Count Rusten… and finally spurred him to action.
The day before Duke Noctis’s birthday banquet.
Ivi was completely focused, carefully pulling the end of a red ribbon.
When the satin ribbon wrapped neatly around the neck of the glass jar, she cheered softly.
“Chuut!”
Finished!
She spread her little cape like wings and struck a triumphant pose, while the head chef clapped proudly.
“How wonderful! Excellent work, Lady Ivi. The gift for His Grace is complete at last.”
“Chupit.”
Heh. It was nothing.
Ivi lifted her chin proudly—cookie crumbs still clinging to the corners of her mouth.
Inside the jar were acorn cookies, made from acorns collected from the white oak in the duke’s garden.
They were meant to be a medicinal treat to ease the pain of his scars.
With this, I can stop the High Priest and Count Rusten from using his wounds for their schemes.
All I have to do is deliver it properly at tomorrow’s banquet.
Take that, Count Rusten!
Covering her mouth, Ivi giggled mischievously and tugged on the chef’s sleeve.
“What is it?”
The chef looked at the box, then nodded in understanding.
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll have a maid deliver the wrapped gift to your room later.”
“Chuu chuut? (What about the leftover acorn cookies?)”
Ivi pulled an acorn from her cheek pouch and showed it to him.
“You want to eat the acorns? Asking for a snack? …Ah! You mean the extras?”
He placed her in his palm and walked to a nearby break room.
Opening the cupboard, he revealed a large jar filled with acorn cookies.
“I put them here, just as you asked. No one else is allowed to eat or take them—strict orders.”
“Chu-chut.”
Good. That’s important, Ivi thought, nodding seriously.
