The Daughter's Rebellion (3)
……Dad's an idiot. A real idiot.
Bathed in the moonlight seeping through the window, Beatrice lay sprawled on the bed, covering her eyes with her arm. If Kyle had seen her pallid face right now, he would've panicked and grabbed her cheeks. But since she'd decided to hole up in her room, ignoring even his calls for dinner, no one had to witness her haggard state at this moment.
In the end, Kyle had given up on eating together and left a tray of food by her door. Of course, Beatrice hadn't bothered opening it. She hadn't touched the meal he'd so thoughtfully prepared.
When she'd made that choice, even in her anger, Beatrice had hesitated for a moment. But right now, her sense of betrayal outweighed any gratitude for his care. She'd dismissed it as a justified protest of her righteous anger and disappointment.
By the time the abandoned food had gone cold outside her door…… Beatrice finally stopped punching the innocent pillow and sank into reflection.
……Righteous anger……
She'd said as much, but deep down, she knew it wasn't truly justified. It wasn't rational. Getting mad just because he'd brought home a second daughter?
What basis did she have for assuming she'd be his only daughter forever? None, of course. She'd just vaguely expected the world she wanted.
Kyle always said the same thing: he'd taken her in as a daughter for a reason. Beatrice vaguely sensed it was like atonement for his own guilt.
She bit her lip hard, swallowing the dark emotions bubbling up again.
Purpose. She still had no idea what that damn purpose of his was. But if he needed more adopted daughters to achieve it, that wouldn't be so strange.
That was all there was to it. He'd brought home that girl called Sina as his second daughter, nothing more. She had no right to complain just because she'd been first……
Beatrice understood that much logically.
……But I still hate him……
Even rolling around on the bed, even recognizing her own attitude was wrong, she couldn't easily suppress the vague resentment toward Kyle. What could she do? This was the realm of emotions, not reason. Rational judgment, thought, reflection—none of it could hold it back.
She hated him. He was outrageous. She couldn't forgive him for not even giving her a heads-up. If he'd just said something before leaving the house, she could've prepared herself mentally.
Beatrice's bright ruby eyes welled up again as she pouted.
"……Hngh."
At least she buried her face in the pillow to keep her sobs from escaping. It was late at night. She didn't want to disturb Kyle next door with her noises. He was probably already worried sick about her shutting herself in.
If he heard her sniffling all night, she'd feel too guilty to bear it.
"……."
Sniff.
Of course, she couldn't stop the tears that welled up from her surging sorrow. Beatrice's best was to leave pitiful tear stains on the pillow while stifling her feelings.
After lying face-down on the bed like a corpse for so long, even her resentment toward Kyle couldn't fight off the overwhelming sleepiness. She slowly blinked her eyes.
And Beatrice thought to herself, forlornly: I just wish we could live happily, just the two of us, without any second or third……
Clink, clink—
Should I call this fortunate, or unfortunate?
First, the fortunate part: starting the next day, daily life returned to normal. Whether she'd sorted out her thoughts overnight or not, Beatrice showed up in the kitchen on time for breakfast. She didn't exchange a single word with Sina, clearly with no intention of getting close…… but at least her seclusion hadn't dragged on to suffocate me. I was relieved inside.
But of course, there was the unfortunate part.
"……Ahem, what are your plans for training today, Riche?"
"……."
"You didn't even come to the yard this morning……."
Setting aside her disastrous first meeting with Sina—practically the worst possible— even our once harmonious father-daughter relationship seemed to have soured. As I carefully picked up the utensils and asked, Beatrice looked up at me with cold eyes.
Dead eyes, devoid of any life, just like when she'd seen me off the day before. I nearly hiccuped involuntarily. It was the kind of gaze that had even made the Monstrous Strength Chaos God flinch for a split second. My legs went weak.
"……Training……."
The one silver lining in this misfortune was that she wasn't completely ignoring me.
"I'll do it alone for a while. Dad, don't worry about me—just do your own thing."
"……Mm."
But just because we exchanged words didn't make it a positive sign. Faced with Beatrice's unprecedented iciness, I was at a loss, only able to roll my eyes.
If she was refusing even our daily morning training, it was serious. Whether she was angry, disappointed, or both, it was heartbreaking.
"……Still, wouldn't it be better if I helped a bit? You're still at an age that needs a master."
With no intention of letting our relationship grow distant like this, I squeezed out some words despite the awkward air.
"……."
Beatrice gave me a chilling glance for a moment, then bluntly turned her head away.
"I'll handle it myself. Don't meddle."
"……Hup."
That firm declaration struck even me—a spiritually tempered soul—with mental damage. Someone who's never had a daughter their whole life naturally hasn't felt the pain of rejection from one. Maybe fathers of middle or high school daughters in puberty went through this. If I were a middle-aged man facing menopause, I might've teared up right then.
It wasn't quite that bad, but the shock did leave me speechless.
Seeing my reaction, Beatrice flinched for a split second, her lips twitching as if to say something.
"……Ugh, I'm leaving first."
But she quickly hardened her expression and stood up. I couldn't even grab her as she left the table; I just froze.
Only after she'd gone upstairs did I glance down and see she'd left most of her favorite dishes untouched.
I slumped, shoulders drooping, unusually dejected. Sina, who'd watched our conflict from a distance, picked up a piece of meat and shot me a cheeky glance.
"You must have it tough. Even a warrior this strong is powerless before his daughter."
"……Sina……."
I turned to her with an utterly forlorn expression.
"If you really feel sorry for me, couldn't you at least try getting along with her……."
"Ah, no thanks."
"……."
She shot me down instantly before I could finish. My sadness doubled.
Maybe it'll get better with time.
I'd once hoped so. Isn't there a saying that time heals all wounds? Emotions dull as the years pass. And even if unavoidable, living under one roof might breed some affection, right?
But I belatedly realized that was naive, insufficient, and lax thinking.
It had already been a year since I brought Sina to the mansion. Time flew. Seasons changed multiple times—so long the kids would've grown noticeably.
"……Riche."
"……?"
Before I knew it, Beatrice had shed her fragile, malnourished look from her early teens, thanks to late but steady nutrition. Now sixteen, her growth spurt had her nearly reaching my chin on tiptoes. I still vividly remembered when she only came up to my chest.
Not that I should say this about my daughter, but she was maturing in other ways too. Especially her chest, now asserting a presence beyond childish, and her hips developing in balance. She was right in that transition from cute girl to proper beauty.
When we walked downtown together, most men's gazes fixed on her. She was flawless in her outward beauty.
"If you're okay with it, how about I start teaching you more serious swordsmanship……."
"……."
"You just reached 5th Hierarchy the other day, right? Time to learn to handle sword ki."
More than her physical changes, I was concerned about shifts elsewhere. To celebrate her reaching 5th Hierarchy at just sixteen, I picked a day and mustered courage to propose advanced training. She'd grown strong enough not to need my constant protection, but stronger was always better. Ideally, she'd grow to defeat the Dark King—the Black Lotus leader—solo without my help.
Anyway, I had my excuses. Despite her recent changes becoming evident, it seemed feasible enough to broach gently.
"……Ha? What are you even talking about all of a sudden?"
"……."
The pity was, my excuses weren't enough.
To my carefully mustered words, Beatrice turned with cold eyes.
"I said I'd handle training myself, you damn dad. Stop meddling in my business."
She didn't stop at one line. My face darkened.
"Ri, Riche……."
"Don't call my name in that pathetic voice. It creeps me out."
That was it. The fact I'd overlooked: Beatrice had been entering adolescence when she became my daughter. Meaning her belated puberty could hit anytime without surprise.
Unrelated to adopting Sina—it was just time. For me, now a proper father, it tore at my heart.
Beatrice's rebellious phase had arrived.
Intensely so.
……Emergency situation.