Cinderella
Cinderella
"It was even more of a mess than I imagined."
I had assumed that a count's family, being nobles with some standing, would naturally be wealthy. That was purely my own delusion.
"I don't wanna eat this!"
"Ada, there are many people outside who go hungry without even this much. You mustn't throw a tantrum."
My younger sister Ada, flinging her bread and bursting into tears because she didn't want to eat it, and my father, Count Bradley Somerset, firmly scolding her.
Thinking that even a noble household's mealtime scenery wasn't so different from an ordinary family's, I looked at the food set before me.
A thin soup of unidentifiable nature and bread as hard as a lump of stone sat on the table.
Even if I weren't a child, these were definitely not appetizing dishes.
Deciding I had to eat anyway, the moment I split the bread to dip it into the soup—
Crack!
Was it my imagination that I heard the sound of a wooden block breaking?
"Father, is this really all we have?"
"What do you mean by that, Rupert?"
"No, I just thought that since we're a count's family, at least some soft bread could make it onto the table."
Was living as a comfortable, wealthy noble too much to ask for?
No, but still, wasn't this too much? A table without a single piece of meat.
The food was such that if I performed the beautiful Joseon tradition of flipping the dinner table, the Approval Association would probably coolly approve it.
"I'm sorry. Your father made a bad investment and is making you all suffer."
At my words, my father began to shed tears, and the head maid and butler who had prepared the meal beside him started crying as well.
"No, if you suddenly do this—"
I couldn't help but panic at the suddenly somber atmosphere.
Before long, what came out of Father's mouth as the reason for our family's downfall was something else.
The Borus Empire on the Silvania Continent, where our family belonged.
The emperor of that empire had suddenly declared war on the neighboring Kingdom of Silvania and forced the lords of each region to either mobilize soldiers or provide war funds.
Faced with that either-or choice, my father, Count Bradley, decided to provide war funds, saying he could not sacrifice the people of his territory to a war without cause. As a result, a massive hole was torn in the territory's finances.
With no choice but to inevitably raise the territory's taxes if things continued this way, my father agonized repeatedly and reportedly reached one conclusion.
'I'll win it back and pay it off.'
War was a special situation. Such circumstances usually left many people destitute, but some seized the opportunity to grasp great wealth.
War merchants, for example.
My father took note of this and joined forces with the merchant companies in the territory to make a sort of investment.
'The elves' special fertilizer has dropped significantly in price right now. Once the war ends, special fertilizer will surely be needed to revive the devastated land, so the price will rise.'
It was plausible logic. So my father reportedly used all available funds and even took out large loans to purchase the elves' special fertilizer.
And then—
'The war is over, so we shall rebuild the nation. The imperial treasury will be opened and relief supplies bestowed, so let all devote their full strength to recovery!'
By the emperor's command, disaster struck: the imperial family spread enormous quantities of the elves' special fertilizer, which had been stockpiled for after the war, across imperial territory.
Naturally, after that, there was no fool who would pay money to buy fertilizer, and the elves' special fertilizer reportedly rotted away in our family manor's warehouse.
'What the... Is our family on the imperial family's hit list or something?'
I could understand sending war funds instead for the sake of the territory's people, and investing in a business to earn money because raising taxes would burden the territory's people.
But how could the emperor step in and ruin a business the family had staked its very survival on, when the finances were already precarious?
Of course, I knew investments came with risk.
But if it had been a natural disaster or an act of God, it wouldn't feel this unfair. To be ruined by the sudden intervention of the imperial family—what kind of dogshit situation was this?
I was furious, but the justification was on the emperor's side.
'Excuse me, we've stockpiled a large amount of special fertilizer to sell at a high price once the war ends. Please withdraw your decree.'
If we'd said that, the emperor would've taken our lives instead.
Saying how dare a noble seek profit from the pain of war.
'As the saying goes, don't put all your eggs in one basket.'
The disaster called the emperor may have been hard to predict, but a count who went all-in with the family fortune aiming for a jackpot wasn't exactly reliable either.
I got the feeling that if I left the family in this man's hands, forget a comfortable otherworld life—I'd soon be out on the street starring in my own homeless-isekai story.
Crunch.
Still, I had to eat to live, so I soaked the bread—harder than a stone—in the soup rather than dipping it, and chewed as I pondered what to do to save the family.
Anyway, does this other world have dentists?
If I keep eating this bread, I might have to buy dentures before long.
***
"Big Brother, I'm bored! Hurry up and do that thing!"
As I sat at my desk assessing the family's financial situation, Ada clung to my leg and whined.
The little kid, barely six years old, was so stubborn that she didn't even pretend to hear me when I said I'd play with her in a little while.
"Waaah."
Ada, throwing a tantrum, was so annoying that I stretched her chubby cheeks—still plump with baby fat—out to both sides, and she made a strange sound.
'She is cute, though.'
Her squirming to escape my hands pulling her cheeks was adorable, so I hugged her and sat her on my lap. Ada puffed out her cheeks to show she was in a full sulk.
"Hurry up and draw Cinderella Ada!"
As expected, her true aim was the picture book.
Because the family's finances were tight and there was nothing for Ada, who was at the age to play with toys, I had felt sorry for her and drawn her a picture book.
Well, the only fairy tales I knew were DiXney's famous ones, so I drew the most iconic one, <Cinderella>. From then on, Ada began calling herself Cinderella Ada.
[Ada lost her mother when she was little~ and was mistreated by her dad and her brother. Shabashaba, high-shaba~ How much did she cry?]
Along with the picture book, I had also taught her the Cinderella nursery rhyme, but she rewrote the lyrics however she pleased and went around singing it all day.
My father and the household retainers, who flinched in shock and wore horrified expressions upon hearing Ada humming that song.
I had definitely taught her the proper lyrics, but because I was the source, I got scolded along with her.
The song was banned after that, but she still frequently came to me asking to be drawn like Cinderella.
It was annoying, but seeing my little sister sitting around lonely bothered me more, so drawing for her each time was what started the trouble.
You might say, how hard can it be to draw one picture for a little kid?
But this young client was endlessly picky, demanding everything from the color of the dress to the depiction of detailed accessories, so it was no easy task.
"Ada's gonna marry the prince when she grows up!"
Ada spun around in delight, looking at the picture I had drawn for her.
'Yeah, the prince marries the heroine. Wake up, little sister.'
But I truly never imagined that this would become the breakthrough that saved the family.
***
"Cinderella... What in the world kind of book is that?"
Baron Sleepy had been suffering greatly as of late.
It was because the baron's only daughter had been whining and tormenting him constantly these days.
'I'm the only one without Cinderella!! Ada has one!!'
Ever since visiting the neighboring Somerset Count's House, his daughter had been bursting into tears, saying she was the only one without a Cinderella.
When he asked the maid who had accompanied her what on earth had happened,
'The count's daughter had a book... After she read it, she's been like this ever since.'
Upon hearing that, Baron Sleepy immediately ordered his butler to obtain that book.
Could he not buy his lovely daughter a single book she wanted? His excitement at the thought of getting it for her right away and receiving her affection was short-lived.
'My lord, I apologize... I searched everywhere from the nearby merchant houses to the bookstores, but I could not find such a book.'
At the butler's report that it couldn't be obtained, he wondered if it had been acquired from another region and made inquiries, but Cinderella could not be found anywhere.
"Does this make any sense? That it can't be found even after sending a telegram all the way to the capital?!"
His daughter's crying showed no sign of stopping, and now she had even begun a hunger strike, refusing to eat. The baron, growing desperate, spent a large sum to send a telegram through the Magic Tower all the way to the capital to search for the book.
But there was no Cinderella there either.
"At this point, wouldn't it be better to ask Count Somerset directly?"
At the butler's words, Baron Sleepy deliberated.
In noble society, directly asking, "Where did you obtain that item?" was considered unsophisticated behavior.
Because it meant you lacked an eye for goods, indirectly admitting you were inferior to the other person.
Usually, if someone else's item looked good, one displayed competence by silently obtaining the same item.
"Damn it, where in the world did that pauper of a count get that book...."
The baron's stomach burned, but he couldn't just leave his daughter's hunger strike be, so he ordered the butler to prepare for a visit to the count's house.
***
"So you're saying the count's son personally created this 'Cinderella'?"
The count, saying that book was actually giving him a headache, poured out his grievances to the baron.
As it turned out, the baron's case was not the first.
The young ladies of the surrounding territories who played with Ada had each returned to their own families and thrown fits looking for Cinderella, and as a result, nobles suddenly visiting the count's house had increased.
"It's a picture book my son drew for his younger sister, so it's not something sold anywhere. There's nothing I can do about it."
Hearing the count's words, the baron's vision went dark.
He had come all this way setting aside his noble pride, but if he returned empty-handed, he would have to face his daughter's hunger strike again.
In his desperation, the baron—
"Please let me meet your son."
—pleaded earnestly, like a man grasping at straws.