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Chapter 03: My Favorite Bread Is Daddy!

Episode 20

'Surely he's not staying at the manor and getting attached to that girl—he's not going to pass the title to her, is he?'

It already irked her that Selena Belando's daughter was to inherit the Marquis of Javier's estate. Giving all that wealth to a cuckoo's chick. The very fact that she was being raised as the Count's daughter was more than she deserved—after all, if Selena hadn't married Fabian, she'd have never had any of it.

'What is Carlos thinking...'

Branda bit her nails anxiously and unfolded the letter again. It began with "My dear Branda," and as always, expressed support and concern for her, staying alone at the Count's manor.

[...If my brother remains at the manor, I think it would be best for you to return to the territory. El and Raoul miss you terribly—though of course, not as much as I do.]

But return to the territory? Wasn't he the one who first suggested she go to the Count's manor? All for the sake of El and Raoul, he had said.

'Is he trying to protect himself, or does he have some leverage...?'

Thinking back on how he'd always been cautious not to upset Fabian, the former seemed more likely. After all, the pretext for her coming to the Count's manor had been to care for Leticia, who was left alone—so now that the excuse was gone, he was telling her to step back.

'If only I had driven out that nanny back then...'

If that woman were gone, she would have had the excuse that the child needed a maternal figure. But that girl had changed her tune without warning—and everything had fallen apart. Because of that foxy little wretch, so like her mother!

Branda crumpled the letter as she recalled Leticia in Fabian's arms. Yes, she had always been greedy and ill-natured by nature. Right now, she was playing nice because the Count was back, but a few whispered words would bring out her true self soon enough.

'The most important thing is not to be suspected, Branda. When in doubt, take a step back.'

Recalling her husband's words, Branda slowly nodded. Thinking of that sunny smile made her stomach churn.

---

The weather was clear and bright, as if the days of rain had been a lie. Adrian watched the carriage carrying Fabian and Leticia pass through the main gate.

'...Leticia Belando.'

He had anticipated that the Emperor wouldn't welcome him before he even entered the palace. However he interpreted the Emperor's decision, he had no reason to object to becoming the Belando household's ward—after all, he needed an excuse to stay close to Leticia Belando anyway.

'To find Idor, it's better to stay here.'

In case he failed to return, he had to prepare thoroughly to manifest sword aura in this life as well. That was why he had obediently followed the Count's lead in buying clothes, toys, furniture, and writing supplies. But—

'Welcome back, Father.'

That cautious voice had reached his ears when they entered the manor. A child, forcing her pouting lips back into place, was glancing at the things the Count had bought for him.

She looked somehow aggrieved—as if her father had been taken from her. Yet she tried not to show it, composing her expression. It was so convincingly childish that he almost wondered if his assumption that she was pretending had been wrong.

Thinking back, no sane adult would dare strike the Grand Duke in the side. And whether when he grabbed her collar or when he tried to bribe her with marriage, she had acted as if she knew nothing about the regression.

It wasn't unreasonable to wonder: perhaps she really was just a child, and he had been overly sensitive in the shock of sudden regression.

'Ridiculous thoughts.'

Adrian clicked his tongue lightly and shook his head. If Leticia hadn't regressed, how else could the Count have found him? Had a few good nights' sleep dulled his mind?

She was a woman not worth even a shred of leniency. If not for her, he wouldn't have become this helpless child.

So he'd stop wasting time on useless thoughts and focus on what needed to be done. First, he'd make her drop that pathetic act—and whether through persuasion or threats, he'd force her to cooperate.

"Gaining her trust is the priority..."

Adrian muttered, reaching for the curtain. But his small body was weak and clumsy—nothing came easily. Especially at this age, when he was on the smaller side.

The bright room only darkened after he flailed his arms several times. It was then that a knock came.

"...You're awake, young master."

The one who entered was none other than the nanny, Marianne. She crossed the room as soon as she entered, swept open the curtains he had closed, and threw the window wide. Adrian's brow twitched.

"Now, young master. Shall we wash up and go to breakfast? Today I'll show you the garden and the annex."

"..."

"Young master?"

"Yes."

Adrian frowned at the flood of sunlight. He had slept well and the weather was fine—yet somehow he felt drained from the start of the day.

---

The first place Father took me was the dressmaker's shop. High-ranking nobles usually called tailors to their homes, but for young children, it was common to visit the shop with their parents as part of an outing.

"Today you've come with Lady Belando, Count."

The shop assistant, Marsha, greeted Father and me warmly. She must have remembered Father coming with Adrian yesterday.

"Pick whatever you like."

Father gestured to the row of mannequins and gave my back a light pat. I excitedly examined the displayed clothes, but choosing wasn't as easy as I'd thought.

'...I don't have a good eye for this.'

In the original story, Leticia had rarely worn good clothes. Branda always said there wasn't enough money for dresses, and only barely managed to put together a wardrobe by supplementing with her "savings." Moreover, insisting that she must dress to avoid looking intimidated, Branda had sent Leticia to parties from her debut onward in garish makeup and sloppy, flashy outfits made of poor fabrics layered together.

'Leticia wasn't stupid, but...'

Or was she? I pressed my lips together and touched the dress before me. Though it was children's clothing, the quality was quite good—almost too good for me to wear.

"Oh my, the little lady has a good eye."

Marsha smiled brightly and approached me as I fingered the hem. Don't tell me this is expensive? Her expression suggested it was.

"This dress, if I may say so, was designed personally by Larisa, the head designer at our Amore..."

Hmm. Definitely expensive. I glanced at Father. He had been watching me while standing, but he merely looked over the clothes calmly.

"Look at a few more."

Does he not like it? Surely it's not about money... Wait, he did spend a lot on Adrian's things yesterday.

I nodded and looked at the other outfits. Still, they all looked better quality than what original Leticia had worn to parties. Father must have thought it would take a while—he went to a table and unfolded a newspaper. Marsha stuck close to me and pointed at a few mannequins.

"How about this one? This is also designed by Larisa herself..."

"Mother, I want this one!"

A loud shout rang out. A lady's voice followed.

"I told you to pick just one, didn't I?"

"Mom, I want this one!"

There were other families in the dress shop besides us. I glimpsed a bright blonde head between the mannequins. The girl must have sensed my gaze, because she turned to look at me.

"Oh?"

The girl with the familiar face seemed to already know me. Who was she? I tilted my head. The girl, with her pretty eyes playfully narrowed, whispered something to a boy who appeared to be her younger brother. Both children's gazes turned to me at once. Their little mouths slowly opened.

"Cuckoo."

"..."

"Cuckoo."

My heart dropped and my body stiffened. Seeing my expression, the children began giggling among themselves.

Ah.

Of all places.

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