An Unexpected Invitation
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lefonya had a wonderful dream.
In it, she was wrapped in the embrace of a gentle father and a sweet mother, giggling with pure delight. An elder brother who yielded everything to her stroked her cheek, while a second brother, grumbling under his breath yet eager to indulge her, held her small fingers tight. She could not stop laughing, overwhelmed by pure, radiant joy. Under the warm, pouring sunlight, she was completely happy.
Father. Mother. Big Brother. Little Brother.
Every time she called out, their voices answered in soft unison: Yes, our darling girl. What is it, beloved child?
Lefonya beamed through tears of relief. You didn't abandon me after all.
Then the blinding light began to part, gradually sharpening the features of her father, her mother, and her two brothers. Lefonya caught her breath, the blood freezing in her veins.
The faces staring down at her belonged to the people of House Craitan—and their eyes were filled with bitter resentment.
“Gasp!”
Lefonya's eyes snapped open. Overhead hung a familiar canopy and chandelier, flanked by several cute little dolls Birdie had strung up so her young lady might sleep soundly.
The Craitan mansion.
Every single one was a yarn doll painstakingly knit by Sir Canwell, Birdie, and Becky. Beside her pillow lay another, newer addition: the soft pink rabbit doll Pelens had bought at the general store yesterday. Without realizing it, Lefonya reached out and clutched the rabbit to her chest. Its plush, squishy texture offered instant comfort, melting away the lingering terror of the nightmare.
Panting softly, Lefonya lifted her hand into view. It was still the tiny, chubby hand of a five-year-old child.
It was only a dream.
Of course it was. A father, a mother, brothers who loved her unconditionally... Unless someone could turn back time itself, such things were impossible in reality.
That bastard Pope Pretes is the reason I'm having these wretched nightmares.
Lefonya ground her teeth until her jaw ached. Yesterday, the shock had been so overwhelming that sheer panic had paralyzed her. But after a night's sleep, cold fury took its place.
After all the years I crawled through the dirt for him, he couldn't wait a few miserable days before branding me a traitor and marking me for disposal?
She squeezed the rabbit doll tighter. Stealing the Craitan family heirloom was officially off the table. Doing so now would only hand the Pope a victory, and she had no intention of doing him any favors.
His orders were worthless to her now.
Her options were clear. Either she arranged a face-to-face meeting with the Pope to clear the misunderstanding, secure her safety, and then steal the heirloom to negotiate a clean break—or she accepted that she was a marked traitor hunted by her fellow operatives, stayed under the safe shelter of Duke Craitan until the dissolution of her adoption, and quietly vanished into thin air.
It was one or the other.
Would it be safer to remain in this child's body for the next few years?
As long as she looked five years old, none of the Pope's blades would ever recognize her. Yet that came with a terrible risk of its own. If anyone discovered that this tiny body housed the fugitive Lefonya, she wouldn't even have the strength to swing a dagger. She would be dead before she could blink.
I need to think this through more carefully before making a move.
Lefonya let her hand drop back onto the mattress. Now that I've been marked as a failure, he'll send someone else to steal the heirloom soon enough.
A fierce spark flared in her crimson eyes. You think you can order my head and still walk away with what you want? Dream on.
The Craitan heirloom was her final trump card, a bargaining chip she might need to hold over the Pope later. After all, he had bound this mission with an Oath in the Name of God.
I won't let anyone else lay a finger on it.
Until the moment came, her task was no longer to steal the heirloom, but to protect it.
Just as she was sorting through her thoughts, a voice cut through the silence.
“Fluffball. How long are you going to lie there frowning at the ceiling?”
A face suddenly popped right into her line of sight. Lefonya jumped so violently that her eyes turned into perfect saucers.
“B-B-Brother?”
It was Pelens. What was he doing in her room? How long had he been hovering there?
“Wh-When did you...”
“Before you woke up.”
Which meant he had been here the entire time. But wait—what had happened yesterday?
Lefonya strained to piece her memories together. She remembered discovering the red cloth marking her as a traitor, followed by a wave of blind panic. Then Pelens had found her, and they had returned to the mansion together. Once home, she had locked herself in her bedroom to gather her wits... and after that, everything was a blank.
Did I just collapse from exhaustion and fall asleep?
Seeing that she was tucked neatly into bed without any signs of a commotion, she must have drifted off quietly. Still, bolting out of the boutique yesterday had undoubtedly aroused suspicion.
She slowly pushed herself upright, gauging his expression. Pelens reached out and steadied her by the hand. Fortunately, she had already rehearsed her cover story: if he pressed her about why she had bolted, she would claim she thought she saw an acquaintance from before her adoption and chased after them in excitement.
“Fluffball,” Pelens said, his expression turning grave.
“Yes?” Lefonya braced herself and nodded, ready to deploy her excuse.
“About yesterday.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The head chef brought out this absolutely divine dessert for dinner, and you missed it. What a tragedy.”
“I thought I saw someone, so I... wait, what?”
The excuse ready on the tip of her tongue dissolved into utter bewilderment. She cocked her head, staring blankly.
Pelens grinned broadly. “So, naturally, I ate your share too. Delicious, by the way.”
...Is this jerk serious?
“The chef said he put his heart and soul into it,” Pelens continued, shaking his head in mock reverence as if recalling a transcendent experience. Lefonya's brow furrowed deeper by the second. “The patissier had some brilliant flash of inspiration, and they teamed up to create it. Man, I swear, it was the best thing I've ever tasted in my entire life. Words can't even describe it.”
Dessert. A magnificent, mouthwatering dessert.
“Tsk, what a shame, Fluffball. Missing out on something like that. Haah.”
A treat so extraordinary she had never tasted the likes of it in her life—the kind of delicacy she would never get to eat again once Duke Craitan dissolved her adoption!
A wave of indignant fury washed over her. Lefonya grabbed the cushion beside her and squeezed it with all her tiny might.
“Wh-Why did you eat my dessert?! Why would you eat it, Brother!”
He could have had sweets whenever he pleased! She was so incandescent with rage that her five-year-old tongue slurred the words.
“I called you over and over to come down and eat, but you wouldn't come out,” Pelens countered casually.
“You still should've saved mine!”
“Dessert loses its flavor if it sits around. You have to eat it fresh. That's common courtesy to the creator.”
The infuriating part was that he was entirely correct. Fuming, Lefonya hurled the helpless cushion straight onto the floor.
Pelens burst into laughter. “You're throwing it down there? Weren't you trying to aim for my face?”
“You're mean!”
Having forgotten all about her carefully rehearsed excuse, Lefonya glared daggers at him. “Stealing food from a five-year-old!”
Chuckling, Pelens scooped the cushion off the carpet and handed it back to her, leaning in close as if offering a better target. “Go on, try again.”
“You haven't even graduated from the Academy, Brother!”
“If I'd known a five-year-old was going to hold that over my head every single day, I would've graduated years ago.” Pelens smiled and gently patted her head.
The storm of childish irritation subsided under the warmth of his palm.
“Did it upset you that I took your dessert, Ponya?”
“...”
“Good girl.”
Lefonya blinked, caught off guard. Praise? For what? All she had done since waking up was throw a tantrum and chuck a cushion at the floor.
“From now on, if anyone tries to take what belongs to you, scream and throw things just like that. Just make sure you hit the person stealing it instead of the floor.”
“...”
“Whatever mess it makes, I'll clean it up. Understood?”
She had heard words like these before. If someone tries to hit you, hit them first. I'll take care of the rest.
Duke Craitan had told her the exact same thing. Hearing identical advice from both of them left no doubt that they were father and son.
Did it upset you that I took 'your' dessert?
Lefonya's mind went blank. Without even realizing it, had she already begun to think of things in this house as truly hers?
“And Fluffball, you still don't seem to realize who you are.”
“Huh?”
“It's just a dessert.” Pelens snapped his fingers. At the cue, Birdie and Becky pushed open the bedroom doors, revealing the head chef and the master patissier bowing deeply in the corridor. “Say the word, and they'll make dozens of them right this second and serve them on a silver platter.”
You really have no idea what the power of the Craitan Duchy means, do you?
Pelens smirked playfully.
“Mmm.”
Delicious.
“Nom, nom.”
It really is amazing!
In the end, Lefonya had secured her prize. Whether this was truly the dessert prepared last night hardly mattered—it tasted utterly heavenly. The rich, velvety sweetness flooded her senses until she felt as though she were turning into sugar herself, melting away every scrap of lingering tension.
Though she tried to maintain an air of dignified composure, her short legs swung vigorously beneath her chair. Throughout the feast, an involuntary tune kept bubbling out of her throat.
“Hm-hm-hmmm. Mmm.”
It was a bizarre hum without a shred of rhythm or melody, yet the sight was so overwhelmingly adorable that everyone present bit their lips to keep from grinning. They knew that if anyone drew attention to it, the unconscious hum would stop instantly. The Duke, Pelens, and the attending servants all held their breath, stealing sidelong glances at her in a tense contest of patience until she finally set her fork down.
Only when the discordant humming faded and her swinging feet came to a rest did the Duke finally clear his throat and speak.
“Ponya.”
“Yes?”
Lefonya looked up. The confection had clearly been a triumph, evidenced by the thick mustache of chocolate cream smeared around her mouth.
“...Pfft. A grubby little... snort... Fluffball.” Pelens clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders trembling as he fought off a fit of laughter.
Duke Craitan was faring little better, his stoic facade cracking at the edges before he cleared his throat with great effort. “Ahem. I believe it is time we introduced you to society.”
“Pardon?”
“After your visit to the boutique with Pelens yesterday, rumors seem to have spread quite rapidly.”
Come to think of it, the boutique had been packed with aristocrats.
“Though I suspect this rascal did that intentionally.”
“The world ought to know that the young lady of House Craitan has arrived,” Pelens said without an ounce of remorse.
“Hmph. At any rate, Ponya, a debut is of paramount importance. It will be your first official appearance as a daughter of Craitan.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Since your existence has not yet been formally announced to the high nobility, my plan is for you to accompany either myself or Pelens to a banquet we have already been invited to. There, we shall ensure everyone understands precisely who you are.”
“So you want me to go steal the spotlight at someone else's party?”
The Duke let out a quiet chuckle. “That works as well.”
“Is that really all right?” Lefonya asked, her brow furrowing with genuine concern. If they publicized her identity so brazenly, how would they handle the fallout when the time came to dissolve her adoption?
“Are you worried about stealing their thunder?”
“Not that. Is it really all right to show me to everyone like that?”
Duke Craitan raised an eyebrow. “Naturally. Why wouldn't it be?”
His tone was entirely dismissive, as though the matter held no room for hesitation.
Then what about after you cast me out? Doesn't he care at all what happens to my life after the adoption is revoked?
She had seen it countless times during her years in the orphanage. High nobles never spared a single thought for a child's future once their frivolous adoption games came to an end. To them, once the entertainment was over, whatever happened next was none of their concern.
Lefonya drew a shaky breath, swallowing the bitter realization.
“That had been the original plan, Ponya, but...”
“Yes?”
The Duke gestured, and an attendant stepped forward to present a letter sealed with wax.
“An invitation arrived specifically addressed to you.”
“To me? But I don't know anyone.”
“That is precisely why I was about to ask you, Ponya.” Lefonya took the envelope from the attendant's tray. Beside her, Pelens deftly slit the wax seal with a paper knife and handed the parchment back to her. “Are you acquainted with the Duke of Villemon?”
“...Who?”
“The Duke of Villemon... Ah, no. Seeing as he has only just inherited the title, I should ask if you know the Young Duke of Villemon. He has invited you to his succession banquet.”
The Duke nodded toward the elegant card in her hands.
When the Pope had instructed her on the major powers of the Empire, House Villemon had featured prominently. It was a martial pillar rivaling even House Craitan, famed for producing generations of the Empire's greatest knights. There was no possible way she could know anyone from such a prestigious bloodline.
“He invited me to his succession banquet?”
“Indeed. And before anyone else in the entire Empire.”
“...What?”
Lefonya lowered her gaze to the elegant script inscribed across the parchment. Her eyes widened as she read the familiar name printed at the bottom.
“Ryu... deum... Villemon?”
Why on earth is he popping up here?!