Angel in the Beastly Den
"Uuu, trash."
"She must be kidnapped, right?"
"Isn't she made by magic?"
"I wanna pinch her cheeks..."
The Cardia household was wrapped in a refreshingly novel atmosphere for the first time in ages. Gone was the usual damp heaviness of its perpetually busy masters wearing their grim faces. This was something bright and soft, melting the servants' hearts like butter.
"Mmm, delish..."
In the drawing room sat a little girl, diligently munching on a massive pancake. Perched on an oversized chair, she looked just like a doll propped up there. It was a rare sight in the Cardia mansion.
The household staff had all paused their work to gaze at Riru devouring her pancake. Even peeking cautiously through the door crack made their hearts go soft. The way her tiny hands worked so hard to slice the pancake. Then forking the carefully cut pieces and popping them into her mouth. Riru savoring the cream-smeared treat with a blissful smile.
Where did this adorable doll come from?
The servants watching her couldn't help but let out cheers from the depths of their hearts.
What kind of place was the Cardia estate, after all? Always bustling, home to the empire's strongest people. Perhaps due to their bloodline, everyone—except Young Master Monte—was stern, serious, and taciturn. The servants had no choice but to tense up in that atmosphere, forcibly riding the wave.
After slaving away daily in such a cutthroat vibe, seeing Riru was like an angel descending into hell.
Having only seen rough, brutish folks before, the sight of her cute little hands ignited something feral in them. An urge to nibble on her, to roughly knead those tiny hands.
"Haaa."
"How..."
"Guh, damn it!"
The final strangled regret came from the head chef. Everyone turned to him, and he spat out the reason with a sigh.
"I think I baked the pancake too tough!"
Oh, that's why?
They all nodded. The head chef clutched at his chest with piercing regret.
Young Master Monte had suddenly demanded something sweet and tasty, so he'd chosen pancakes. He'd assumed it was for the young master himself. If he'd known a tiny girl like this would eat it, he wouldn't have made it that big or stuffed it with meat inside.
For a child, he'd have whipped up something far softer, fluffier, and sweeter to show off his skills properly.
The head chef watched Riru with trembling eyes, unable to flaunt his true talent.
"Nom!"
Every time the girl smiled and sliced into her pancake, his smile grew—along with his regret.
I could make something way tastier...
Of course, the head chef was the only one lost in such trivial thoughts amid the emotional whirlwind. The other servants just clasped their hands, watching Riru's cheeks puff and move.
Monte smiled and asked Riru—a question infused with all the servants' hopes.
"Tasty?"
"This is super tasty."
Riru ignored her inner screams and answered like any child would. Half of it was sincere, the other half just her body's reaction. Even simple sweetness lit up her face—probably thanks to the abuse she'd endured before.
She'd never tasted sweets growing up; her diet was thin gruel or rock-hard bread. Occasionally greasy scraps, but sweets? Not even a glimpse.
Riru savored the joy once more, stuffing her mouth full.
"That kid sure packs it away."
Young Master Monte smiled again at the sight. But simultaneously, recalling the girl's potential sent shivers down his spine.
That thing from earlier.
Easy to forget amid her innocent charm, but what he'd witnessed kept flashing before his eyes. Unforgettable.
Truly incredible.
Monte knew exactly how magic worked. Simple in principle: gather mana, shape it as desired. Difficulty varied wildly by method, and tough processes yielded worthy results. Honest like that. That was magic, as defined by Monte Cardia.
Gulp.
What he'd just seen from Riru shouldn't exist.
An outdated method.
Riru had pulverized the statue to dust. It looked like she'd wielded mana from within herself, alien to nature. But the technique was archaic.
Collect mana flowing from the body bit by bit, then fire. Sounds fine at first glance.
But a genius's eye sees it instantly.
Mana grains are like tiny sand specks. Spill them on the floor, good luck picking them up. Too few to handle one by one for anything useful.
That's why magic evolved beyond fiddling with individual grains.
"Urk..."
Nausea bubbled up from his stomach again. Pure awe and shock shaking his guts.
Because Riru had just shattered the essence of modern magic.
Can you believe it?
A bullet made by painstakingly gathering sand grains one by one. Crude enough to crumble in a breeze—yet it manifested with 5th-circle power, like a thunderbolt.
"You okay?"
"Huh? Uh, yeah... actually, no, not really."
It meant one thing: ending hyper-complex formulas with a mere addition. Surpassing everyone without even walking the proper path. Incomprehensible.
How? How the hell should I know?!
Unable to explain, he borrowed the word "heaven." Some people defy understanding—they're called geniuses.
A shaky breath escaped Monte's lips. Unable to hold back, he spoke to Riru.
"Riru, was it?"
"Yeah. Riru."
Monte Cardia was utterly smitten by the girl stuffing her puffy cheeks with pancake. So he approached a bit hastily.
"Yeah, I've got a lot to say. Hurry up and chew, then come chat with me?"
Riru mumbled, pausing without answering. Monte's shoulders stiffened.
Too sudden?
Panicking, he softened his expression and tried a friendly smile to backpedal.
"No, I mean, uh."
Unfortunately, Monte had zero experience talking to kids. Especially one so fragile she'd snap if he poked her.
But he'd tried. Recalling how he'd spoken to his brother as a child.
Problem was, Monte had been a little terror since childhood—his tone totally unfit for kids.
The servants noticed right away.
Tsk tsk.
That jerk...
They scowled at Monte. You use a soft voice with children—how could he say that? Uuu, trash.
The servants hurled silent boos his way.
But Riru had stopped talking for a different reason.
"Mmph."
"Mmph?"
"W-Water..."
Her ruthless pancake-munching had choked her.
Monte blinked in disbelief, then chuckled and handed her a glass of water.
Gulp gulp.
Riru chugged it down and exhaled.
"Pwah—"
She worked her cheeks, cleared the pancake remnants, and told Monte.
"Sure. I've got stuff I wanna talk about too."
Her surprisingly mature reply drew amazed reactions from the servants as they watched her.
Normally, kids would cry or sulk at a big, thuggish adult looming over them. But Riru was different—very different.
How...
She must be a cute little noble.
The servants gazed at her with unwavering smiles.
Monte didn't think that far—just figured she was well-raised—and grinned.
"Really? Perfect. Awesome."
"Yeah."
Finally relaxing, Monte sat and shoved half the pancake on his plate into his mouth.
"Urgh... too sweet."
It was so sugary it didn't go down easy. How does she eat this so well? He shook his head.
But kinda addictive. Slurp.
He crammed in the other half.
"Not bad. Could eat it sometimes."
"Mmph."
Not to be outdone, Riru polished off her pancake. The servants whispered about preparing handkerchiefs to wipe her mouth—who'd get to do it first?
But then, a shadow engulfed the huddled servants peeking through the half-open door.
Towering height, broad shoulders bulging with muscle—yet retaining noble poise. The family's second child, Rudmila Cardia.
"What are you doing?"
She eyed the unusually grouped staff. A terrified maid hiccuped; the head chef quickly explained.
Rudmila listened stone-faced, then furrowed her brow.
Confirming again: "So, he brought home a kid? That Monte?"
Her simmering anger made the servants quake. Grinding her teeth, she ordered them away and flung open the drawing room door.
Monte's gone too far—bringing a girl now?
She stormed in with massive misunderstanding.
The forceful entry slammed the door wide; the two inside whipped their heads toward her.
"Monte, you...!"
Before finishing, a sudden sweet scent clogged her throat.
Having loved meat since childhood—eschewing desserts—it was natural for the unfamiliar aroma to catch her off guard.
But more stupefying was the scene.
"Hic."
"...So tiny?"
Smaller than the 13-year-old she'd imagined. She'd pictured waist-high; this was a 6-year-old-level girl. Startled by the door, she was hiccuping.
Looking again, Rudmila thought: I was about that size at 5.
Fitting for her near-190cm frame—her sense of normal was skewed.
Anyway. Rudmila alternated glances between Monte and Riru, piecing it together.
Rogue brother drags in tiny girl. The academy troublemaker surely had shady motives.
"......"
As Riru's hiccups continued, Rudmila's brows knit.
Ah, got it.
She drew her sword, rage boiling over.
"Should've seen it sooner."
"...What?"
"In Mother's stead, I'll defend the family honor."
"Wait, hold on—what misunderstanding is this?!"
Drawing a sword thicker than Riru's waist, Rudmila steeled herself to strike her brother.
Monte broke into cold sweat, desperately needing to explain.
And watching it all, Riru thought:
More of a shitshow than I expected.
The ducal house called the Empire's Eye. More alive with human warmth than I'd thought.