The Five-Year-Old's Prerogative
"A boy?"
"Huh?"
Lefonya tilted her head. The information she possessed did not match the knight's testimony in the slightest.
Wait, the ones who came to the cabin back then were definitely the woman from next door and this knight, weren't they?
He had even thanked her for filing the report. Could the boy have been her son?
"However, he vanished immediately after reporting it... The neighbor woman I ran into while scouting around the house was actually the second informant."
The neighbor was only the second person to report it? That meant someone else had reported it before her. But who?
...Could it be whoever swapped my Shrinking Potion?
If not, how else could anyone have known a child was inside that abandoned shack to make the initial report?
"What did the firth informant look like?!" Lefonya blurted out urgently to Sir Velic. Her pronunciation slipped into an accidental lisp at the end, but she had no time to worry about toddler speech right now.
"Did you hear that? So cute..."
"When the second young master couldn't talk properly back in the day, it was just annoying... but the young lady is positively adorable."
Murmurs rippled among the knights standing nearby, but Lefonya brushed them aside without a second thought.
Searching his memory, Sir Velic slowly parted his lips. "For a child, his facial features were remarkably sharp, which caught my attention... Though, well, I didn't get a close look."
"What about his hair? Or his eyes?"
"Nothing particularly unusual. He had black hair and golden eyes."
Wait.
The instant Sir Velic spoke, the memory of that boy flashed through Lefonya's mind unbidden.
Don't tell me...
Back then, when that boy looked down at me, he definitely muttered, 'You're alive,' didn't he?
What if he had said that because he was the one who switched the Shrinking Potion, expecting Lefonya to drop dead on the spot?
The pieces clicked together with chilling precision.
"What's with that look, brat? That matches the description of the boy you mentioned earlier, doesn't it? Did you ask because he sounded familiar?"
At Felens's probing question, Lefonya merely laughed it off with a vague, innocent smile.
Of course, that boy might not have been the initial informant. Even so, every instinct she possessed screamed that he was connected to this mess.
Just wait until I get my hands on you.
Lefonya clenched her tiny fists tight.
Though they completed an entire circuit around the training grounds, Lefonya failed to choose an escort. Felens recommended several knights, praising their exceptional prowess, but she adamantly shot every single one down.
Her reason was simple.
Gasp. That knight pursued me like a bloodhound back when I broke into the vault! And that one nearly caught me the night I infiltrated the inner grounds!
Every last candidate was someone she had crossed paths with during her days as a spy for the Pope. Terrified that her true identity might somehow be exposed, Lefonya buried her face deep into Felens's chest, whining and shaking her head in refusal.
Naturally, she had worn a mask during her missions, meaning none of them would recognize her face, but caution was second nature to an operative. Besides, she had no desire to keep such tenacious, extraordinarily sharp knights tethered to her side as personal guards.
Throwing tantrums felt utterly humiliating for a grown adult, but thankfully, everyone around them dismissed it as nothing more than the fickle fussiness of a five-year-old.
"Brat, after what just happened, you have to pick an escort. If having someone clinging to your side makes you uncomfortable, I can order them to shadow you from a distance."
That's the whole problem!
How was she supposed to search for the heirloom in peace when a master swordsman could be watching her every move from the rafters?
Lefonya cut a sidelong glance at Felens.
He had carried her in his arms the entire day. He could easily have set her down, yet inside the training grounds he claimed that sand on her shoes would make extra work for the servants, and in the corridors he insisted she was the perfect weight for light arm training.
Without even realizing it, I've gotten used to this.
When the Duke had first swept her into his arms, being toted around like a sack of grain had felt mortifying, shameful, and utterly preposterous. Yet here she was, lounging comfortably in someone's hold while touring the entire grounds.
My dignity as a functioning adult...
At least no one here knew her mind wasn't that of a five-year-old.
"If you've got something to say, spit it out, brat. Stop glaring at me like that."
He was uncannily sharp, catching her fleeting glance in a heartbeat. If Felens was already this perceptive, the mere thought of another knight just like him shadowing her every step made her shudder.
"You're going to kick me out once I heal anyway." Determined to talk him out of it, Lefonya parted her lips. "According to you, Senior, I'm someone who'll be shown the door soon, so do I really need an escort to begin with—ow!"
Before she could finish, Felens ruffled her hair into a complete bird's nest.
"S-stop it! Cut it out!" Lefonya flailed her short little arms, batting at his broad hand.
Her disheveled locks flew every which way, completely obscuring her view of his face. Once she finally managed to smooth down the unruly strands, she glared up at him fiercely.
Felens was grinning down at her with pure amusement.
"You ruined my hair!"
"Oh? Looks better now than it did before."
Lefonya glared with all her might, but a toddler's glare was hardly menacing; Felens merely chuckled.
"It's because that tiny head of yours is always churning with strange thoughts. Someone offers to protect you, so why on earth do you hate it so much? Wouldn't it be better to stay safe until you leave?"
"Even children have things they dislike and feel uncomfortable with," Lefonya retorted firmly.
Felens paused.
"I hate having strangers around; it's uncomfortable. And even if they guard me from hiding, knowing someone is constantly watching me in secret is suffocating and scary," she murmured, her voice quiet and steady. "Still, I understand you're assigning an escort to keep what happened before from happening again. That's why..."
Lefonya trailed off, her eyes going wide. A brilliant idea popped into her head—an ingenious way to avoid having to juggle both Felens and another bodyguard.
"I've picked my escort."
"Out of nowhere in the middle of a sentence?" Felens tilted his head.
"Yup. You, Senior." Lefonya pointed a tiny, chubby finger straight at his chest.
"...What?"
"Be my escort, Senior."
She had just selected this drifting Academy fossil who couldn't even manage to graduate to be her bodyguard.
As things stood, Felens suspected her of being a con artist and hovered nearby to monitor her every breath. Having a separate escort wouldn't lessen his surveillance anyway. If that was the case...
I might as well keep Felens glued to me as my guard!
Besides, keeping the second son of House Craitan close would offer natural opportunities to approach the Duke. The official heir of House Craitan was the eldest son anyway; Felens would either head back to the Imperial Academy to remain a perennial senior or eventually graduate and become an ordinary knight. Which meant Lefonya had every plausible right to propose him as her escort.
Thank goodness my brain didn't shrink along with my body.
Pleased with her sheer ingenuity, Lefonya beamed.
"...No."
That smug satisfaction lasted right until Felens spoke.
"What?" Her beaming smile froze into utter bewilderment. "W-why?"
Never anticipating a outright refusal, Lefonya stammered. Felens suspected her of being an imposter. If he became her escort, he could monitor her around the clock—she had been certain he would jump at the chance!
Felens stared down at the child in his arms. Unlike his usual playful demeanor, his eyes were cool, devoid of even a sliver of mischief.
"Because I don't want to protect you."
Felens answered quietly, setting Lefonya down onto her feet. Before she knew it, they had arrived in front of her bedroom.
After her previous room had burned down, she had been relocated to another chamber while the damage was repaired. The new room was filled with brand-new furniture and luxurious belongings, but since none of it truly belonged to her, she had paid it no mind.
"Think of another knight." Felens patted her head lightly twice, then turned on his heel.
Watching his retreating back, Lefonya turned without lingering and walked into her chamber.
"My Lady, you're b—oh dear, My Lady! What's with that expression? Did something happen?"
"No. Nothing happened."
Brushing off Birdie's anxious fussing, Lefonya looked away. There was no need to admit that, for the briefest fraction of a second, Felens's quiet, dead-serious rejection had made her heart drop into her stomach.
After a night's sleep, Lefonya neatly reorganized her thoughts.
So what if he refused? If he says no, I just have to nag him until he gives in.
Looking back, getting rejected by someone wasn't anything new to her. She couldn't understand why she had felt so shaken yesterday.
I've just gotten too soft living in a child's body. They say humans are creatures of adaptation, and it couldn't be truer.
While Birdie and Becky helped her wash and dress for the morning, Lefonya continuously hardened her resolve.
None of this matters anyway. I just have to steal the heirloom, go back, claim my freedom, take the Pope's money, and drink the Nullification Potion. Once I return to my true form, none of these relationships will continue anyway.
She might as well milk every advantage this five-year-old body had to offer.
Besides, the more Felens refused, the better it was for her.
Lefonya would insist she wanted no one but Felens, while Felens would keep saying no.
That way, the assignment of an escort will get postponed indefinitely!
It was utterly flawless.
Clenching her tiny fist with renewed determination, Lefonya headed to the dining hall for breakfast. The Duke of Craitan and Felens were already seated at the long table.
"Phonya. Did you sleep well last night?"
"Brat, why so solemn today? Planning to go on an expedition this morning or something?"
Lefonya climbed into her specially cushioned chair. The moment her bottom hit the seat, she cut straight to the chase.
"I want Senior to be my escort!"
Evidently caught completely off guard by her throwing such an unvarnished fastball first thing in the morning—and right in front of the Duke, no less—Felens choked on his food and coughed violently. His face flushed bright red as he sputtered, beating his chest.
"...Felens?" the Duke asked, looking as though he must have misheard.
Yet Lefonya beamed with the radiant innocence of an oblivious toddler and nodded vigorously. "Yes! I already asked yesterday and he turned me down, but I still don't want anyone else except Senior!"
A five-year-old declared she hated everyone else; what could they possibly do? It was the ultimate prerogative of childhood.
"Ha. I made it plenty clear that I'm not doing it."
"Yep, I heard you." Lefonya countered his scowl with a bright, cheerful grin.
"I'm heading back to the Academy soon anyway. Even if I agreed to guard you now, I won't be around to stick by your side."
"Then you just have to do it while you're here. After that, I'll talk to the Duke again to find someone else."
Faced with a five-year-old's rebuttal—an exquisite fifty-fifty split of childish stubbornness and sound logic—Felens shoved food into his mouth in silence rather than answering.
Noticing Felens's sullen reaction, the Duke spoke in a gentle, coaxing tone. "Phonya, Felens has to return soon, so perhaps another knight of your choosing..."
"But strangers are scary."
She had known the Duke would react like this. No matter how much of a scamp Felens was, he was flesh and blood—true family. Lefonya was merely an adopted child with no shared blood, a counterfeit daughter, so of course he would take his son's side.
Which was why she had already prepared her counter.
"Because of what happened recently, I get nervous whenever a stranger comes close. Even if I know they're a knight meant to protect me." Lefonya offered a fragile, sweet smile. "I really want Senior to be my guard."
Behold the dreadful, unstoppable power of a five-year-old's stubborn whim!