Happy Birthday, Dad!
Dad, happy birthday! The Desmont family head's birthday had dawned. It marked the end of my long stay in the capital. Though things had gotten a bit awkward with Kyle, we'd found common ground in our shared wishes and silently agreed to let it slide, moving on naturally.
In my room on the second floor of the mansion, I stretched my sluggish body, letting out a languid sigh after donning my butler uniform for the first time in ages. Whether it was from last night's heart-wrenching date that left me drained, or the heated conversation with Kyle, my condition wasn't great. I felt strangely exhausted.
"Achoo~! Ugh..."
It felt like the onset of a cold. Ever since reaching sword expert level, I'd been immune to such things, so this long-lost sniffle wasn't exactly welcome. Shivering from the chills, I sighed again, stretched once more, and prepared to greet the day with vigor.
I glanced at the clock.
[10:00]
Plugging my ears and nodding along.
"One. Two. Three."
-Hieeek!! Air raid alert!!!
-Imperial emergency!
-Full imperial army mobilization!
Listening to the Desmont family's daily "harmony" ring out without fail, I smiled contentedly.
"Everyone's in good health today, as always."
*
Darbav's birthday kicked off early in the morning. Amid throngs of guests—high nobles and business associates streaming in—Olivia and I huddled in the corner of the banquet hall, playing dead as best we could.
"Ricardo."
"Yes."
"Too many people."
"It's because the family head's so popular."
"Dad has lots of friends?"
"Yes."
Olivia pouted sullenly, gazing at Darbav.
"I don't."
"You're a loner, miss."
"No I'm not. I've got you, Ricardo."
"That's what makes you a loner."
Not liking her new title, she puffed out her cheeks, lips jutting in a sulk.
"I'm not a loner."
"Sure~"
"Eek...!"
As she clenched her fist and raised her hand threateningly at my teasing reply,
"Darbav!"
"Auntie...!"
The voice of her great-aunt—the one she'd vowed to break the legs of if they met—echoed from afar. Olivia yelped "Hiek!" and ducked her head under the tablecloth.
"Ricardo, hide me!"
Darting her head down and twitching nervously, she soon pulled a black box from her treasure pouch.
"Why's that coming out of there?"
"It's precious. What if I lose it?"
"Still..."
Dismissing it as obvious, she stated firmly,
"Give this to Dad."
"Me? Really?"
"Yeah. Too crowded to go myself."
She glanced down at her immobile legs. She knew her existence—marred by black magic, the Desmont family's shame—wouldn't be welcome here. The titles of "pathetic princess" and "villainess who only throws tantrums" clung to her. That's why, despite Darbav's pre-party suggestion to sit by the stage, she'd shaken her head and chosen this deserted corner.
Even I, no noble, knew her presence at this moment—wings just beginning to unfurl—wouldn't yield good results.
The instant she used black magic, Desmont Olivia became the family's discarded child. Flaunting a reconciliation on an official stage would shake the tower they'd so carefully built. Kyle knew it too, urging Darbav to reconsider, while Rosanna offered a sad smile and sealed her lips.
Personally, I preferred this cold shoulder. It felt right—the privileges a Desmont child should claim, yet viewed askance by others. It was a problem we had to accept, responsibility for her actions.
But the gift? She should deliver it herself. Handed by me the butler versus her? Worlds apart. It might seem like a mere courtesy from staff, disappointing Darbav. Call it my opinion, but this ultimate doting dad had likely waited years for a gift from his daughter. Two years without must feel like quitting a lifelong drug. Overstepping, I firmly refused, shoving her hand away.
Her hand with the black box hung awkwardly in the air. Ignoring her insistent urging, I whistled it off.
"You give it, miss."
"No way."
"You've got hands, don't you?"
"I don't have hands."
Puffing her cheeks fuller, she hid her fingers in her sleeves. Her pouty glare screamed 'There, happy?', nearly melting me with cuteness. But as true butler—and Desmont retainer—I steeled myself for the family head's mental health.
"Ricardo, my hands fell off."
"Didn't you say you had none?"
"They just grew back."
"Lizard hands?"
"Tasty?"
"No."
Sulking, she bowed her head.
"Boring."
"Wasn't meant to be fun."
"Eek...!"
Biting her lip in fury, she confessed softly, head down.
"I wanna give it when my legs heal."
"I think now's fine."
Gazing at Darbav greeting guests, I suggested slipping it to him naturally when our turn came.
She hesitated, head still low.
"Is that okay?"
Tempted by the idea, she tilted her head at me. I nodded reassuringly.
"Of course. Don't you want to give it yourself? I'm sure the family head feels the same."
Rehab's effects weren't fully showing yet. Vitality's exact meaning eluded me, but it surely didn't drain from positivity. Time would heal it. No need to rush—vitality could be restored, legs too. And for a possessed soul like me, impossible didn't exist.
I placed the black box in her hand, beaming.
"Here he comes."
Darbav approached, his forced guest-smile replaced by a father's twitching grin of genuine joy. Feigning nonchalance,
"Ahem... Olivia, you've been here all along."
"Yeah."
Under the tablecloth, her fidgeting fingers peeked. Hesitant to offer or not. I smiled faintly, poking her side to nudge her on.
"Kyak...! Hiet... Huee...?!"
Her hand shot up onto the table with a jolt. Glaring in panic, but I innocently looked away. Darbav's lips nearly split his face.
"Hup... That's...!"
Spotting the black box, his eyes welled up.
"A gift for Dad?"
Betrayed, she shot me daggers, but I winked innocently back.
"What's that! No way...!"
"Eek... Ricardo's mean."
"Just scratched your itchy side."
"Haaah..."
Sighing deeply, she steadied her breath.
"Now."
Whispering so Darbav wouldn't hear, I winked with all my charm, cheering her hesitation. She swallowed hard, facing him. His expectant face barely hid his glee—I nearly laughed, but held back to avoid marring this historic moment with mockery, offering a subtle smile as I awaited her congratulations.
"D-Dad!"
"Yes, Olivia."
"Grandma who passed always badmouthed you...!"
"What?"
"She said even though she birthed you, your temper was like a dog's, so...!"
Sweating bullets, she thrust the gift forward.
"Happy birthday!"
Her potentially insulting speech drew a smile from Darbav.
"Mother said that, huh... Guess no grave visit next year."
It even steeled his resolve for filial impiety.
Opening the box before her, amid pricey mansion and mine gifts that day, his delight surpassed them all.
"Did you pick this yourself, Olivia?"
"Yeah."
"As expected of my daughter. Impeccable taste."
Pinning the brooch to his tie, he smiled warmly.
"Thank you, daughter. Live long and healthy. And Ricardo."
"Yes?"
"The box in my room at dawn—is that the dowry?"
"Pardon? What did you say...?"
"Hm... More than enough for a dowry."
Kissing her forehead lightly, Darbav departed. On the tablecloth he left, tiny droplets glistened. Our secret—no need to say they were tears.