The Chick Fork and the Healing Breeze
The moment she stepped into the dining hall, a rich, savory, and intoxicatingly sweet aroma greeted her nose.
Sniff, sniff. Lefonya's eyes darted uncontrollably across the room. Dish after magnificent dish was being set down without pause, enough to make the massive table groan under their weight. In truth, during the several days since she had awakened in this child's body, she had not managed a single proper meal.
Lefonya swallowed hard.
'So this is how the ducal family dines every day. It's far more lavish than what other nobles eat.'
The Duke gently guided Lefonya to the seat immediately beside his own at the head of the table. A plush cushion had been laid out, ensuring her small bottom did not ache in the slightest.
"There. This will be your seat from now on, Lefonya."
Glistening, juice-dripping meats caught her eye.
"Eat comfortably."
Looking at the endless spread of food and her placement directly beside the seat of honor, Lefonya thought she understood what was happening.
'He's going to nitpick my table manners to discipline me right from the start.'
High nobles cared obsessively about appearances. In their eyes, a single visible flaw was all it took to drag their prestige and reputation through the mud.
'Too bad for him. I've been drilled in etiquette since I was six.'
Having endured years of brutal training under the Pope, basic table manners were second nature to her.
Ignoring the Duke's uncomfortably intense gaze drilling into her side, Lefonya calmly selected the proper cutlery. Without making the slightest clatter against the porcelain, she sliced the meat into elegant, bite-sized portions and chewed with textbook high-society grace.
She stole a glance at the Duke. His expression was completely frozen.
'He must be shocked by how flawless I am.'
"Who placed a knife at Lefonya's seat?"
Huh?
"A five-year-old child is cutting meat with a knife."
Murderous intent rolled off him in waves.
In an instant, the air in the dining hall turned frigid.
Carefully reading the room, Lefonya cautiously set down the knife she was holding.
'Was that... wrong?'
Why had everything been so bewildering since earlier?
The moment she set the cutlery down, Duke Craitan swiftly swept the dangerous adult utensils to the far side of the table.
"Bring a child's fork at once."
At the low, rumbling command, a servant rushed back in record time with a replacement.
Peep, peep.
It was a tiny fork decorated with cheerful little baby chicks.
"……."
Only then did the Duke exhale a long breath of relief. He immediately took the plate and began cutting all of Lefonya's food into miniature, bite-sized morsels.
"You must eat plenty of meat to grow tall."
'No... you need a balanced diet with vegetables to grow tall.'
"If the pieces are too large, they might catch in your throat, so be sure to chew thoroughly."
'I have teeth, not just bare gums. Why on earth would I choke?'
"Look here. You use the fork to poke the food gently so it doesn't run away."
Duke Craitan speared a tiny piece of meat with his own fork. Then he stared down at Lefonya with solemn intensity.
'Is he... telling me to copy him?'
He looked as if he would hold that exact pose until the end of time if she refused, so Lefonya reluctantly gripped the Chick Fork. It was far lighter than the adult silverware and fit snugly in her small hand, feeling surprisingly comfortable.
She poked a piece of meat with the little chick-stamped tines.
"And then you pop it into your mouth—"
Following Duke Craitan's lead, she placed the meat in her mouth.
"And chew thoroughly like this. Yum, yum, yum."
He was chewing out loud. He had bared his teeth, dramatically demonstrating how to chew with exaggerated yum, yum, yum sounds.
"……."
Realizing he would keep it up until she matched him, Lefonya eventually gave in and chewed along, mimicking him with quiet little nyam, nyam, nyam bites.
'This isn't anything like the noble etiquette I learned...'
Had she even been taught properly? Everything she had ever memorized was crumbling into uselessness.
Lefonya's eyes wavered in deep confusion.
"Good girl. That is how I fed your older brothers, too."
Upon this table, the rigid etiquette of the imperial aristocracy had long since been discarded.
"Now, have some water... Wait. This water is far too cold. Who poured ice water for Lefonya? Do you not know that water this cold can upset a child's stomach?"
Lefonya found herself staring blankly into empty space.
'Didn't someone mention earlier that the second son refuses to return from the Imperial Academy?'
Surely it wasn't because of... this?
Burying her doubts, Lefonya busily filled her stomach with the Chick Fork.
Only after the meal was completely finished and dessert had been devoured did the Duke turn to business.
"I intend to submit this Adoption Document to the Imperial Palace tomorrow."
Duke Craitan lightly shook the parchment, which had already been filled out with all the necessary legal details. All that remained was the endorsement of the child to be adopted—Lefonya's approval.
The procedure for a noble to adopt a child was deceptively simple: fill in the paperwork, have the child sign, and deliver it to the throne. Because the Adoption Document was infused with imperial magic, it could not be torn or nullified by ordinary means. Once submitted, the child legally and irreversibly became part of the family.
Yet because adoption was so simple, disownment was just as effortless.
Drafting a dissolution document and delivering it to the palace was all it took to sever the bond. Back when Lefonya lived in the abusive orphanage, countless children had been adopted only to be discarded and returned to the cellar within months.
In the end, the other party held the hilt of every blade.
"Do you have any questions?"
"No."
Duke Craitan's brow furrowed. Lefonya lowered her gaze away from his face, quietly using her fork to scrape the leftover cream from the bottom of her empty cake plate.
"Nothing at all?"
"Why?" Lefonya set down her fork and asked in a flat, uninflected voice. "Do you think you'll regret it?"
The Duke's face twisted as if he had just heard the most absurd nonsense in the world. Simultaneously, every servant standing at attention in the dining hall snapped their eyes toward Lefonya.
"If you think you'll regret it, you don't have to adopt me."
Lefonya paused to weigh her thoughts before continuing.
"I don't have anywhere to go right now anyway. You don't have to make me your daughter—just let me eat and sleep under this roof. I'll work in exchange."
What truly mattered was remaining inside this ducal estate, not the legal title of daughter.
"Lefonya."
Duke Craitan made a brief gesture. At once, the butler carried over a fresh slice of cake and set it before her.
'Ah.'
Scraping the bottom of a plate was supposed to be the hallmark of uneducated rabble. Realizing what she had just done, heat rushed to Lefonya's cheeks.
"I was the one who brought you here, and I was the one who offered to adopt you first," the Duke said.
"……."
"Yet you ask if I will regret it? No. That question should be asked of you, Lefonya."
"Huh?"
"Given the chaos earlier, you might have agreed out of shock and fright. Now that you've calmed down, I am asking you again. Even when you are fully grown, the memory of today will remain with you."
Watching her closely, Duke Craitan picked up his fork. Then, perfectly mirroring what Lefonya had done moments ago, he scraped the smear of cream from the bottom of his empty plate and placed it into his mouth. He did this even though there was still an untouched slice of cake resting right beside it.
"Ugh. Far too sweet."
Disliking the sugar, Duke Craitan's rugged face scrunched up in pure agony. Watching a man built like an immovable fortress grimace as though he were dying over a speck of cake frosting was so utterly ridiculous that Lefonya nearly burst out laughing.
'When I'm fully grown...'
He was asking if she would be fine with today's memories even after she was inevitably disowned.
"I'm fine with it, too."
Lefonya reached out her small hand. Duke Craitan passed the document across the table.
"I understand what this means. I've already prepared myself."
Her gaze landed on the dining knife Duke Craitan had pushed to the far edge of the table earlier. Lefonya hopped down from the high dining chair, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Without a moment's hesitation, she snatched the sharp blade.
Slash!
Before anyone could process what was happening, she drew the steel across her small finger. The delicate skin parted, and bright crimson blood welled up.
"Lefonya!"
Horrified, Duke Craitan sprang from his chair and lunged toward her.
"I'm fine."
Brushing off the frantic commotion around her as if it were nothing, Lefonya pressed her bleeding finger firmly against the bottom of the parchment. In the underworld she knew, sealing an agreement with blood signified staking one's very life—the ultimate method of proving loyalty and trust. She wanted to prove beyond any shadow of a doubt to Duke Craitan that she would never regret this choice.
"There. Now if we submit this to the Imperial Palace tomorrow—"
"Summon the doctor! Immediately!"
Without even glancing at the document she held out, Duke Craitan snatched a clean linen handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it tightly around her bleeding finger.
"Huh?"
Lefonya blinked in sheer bewilderment. It was just a shallow nick on the skin, yet he was summoning a physician? Even when she had suffered far more gruesome injuries in the past, no one had ever called a doctor. Everyone had always told her she would be fine once she slept it off, and indeed, the pain had always dulled by morning.
"It'll just heal if I sleep on it..."
"Who fed you such utter nonsense?" Duke Craitan barked, his face flushed with genuine anger. "How could a wound heal simply from sleeping? If it isn't treated properly, it will leave a scar!"
A scar? Had anyone ever worried about scars on her body before?
"Even the smallest scratch must be examined by a physician. There is no such thing as a wound that magically heals overnight. Do you understand?"
"Uh... what?"
"This is an absolute rule of House Craitan."
The butler stared at the Duke with an expression that screamed, Since when?, but catching Lefonya's wandering gaze, he hastily forced a bright smile and nodded vigorously.
"It is indeed the truth."
"Now that you are my daughter, Lefonya, you must obey the rules of House Craitan."
Dumbfounded, Lefonya found herself nodding along. In the meantime, the duchy doctor who resided permanently on the estate burst through the doors.
"I have arrived to examine the inju—gasp!"
Stepping closer, the doctor caught sight of Lefonya's face and choked on his own breath.
'Why is he acting like that?'
Lefonya tilted her head. Was this physician so fragile that he was frightened by a tiny finger cut?
"The Duch—"
Just as the doctor started to stammer, the butler swiftly clamped a firm hand onto his arm.
"Pull yourself together. The Young Lady, who arrived today, has been injured. Tend to her at once," the butler commanded in a stiff, warning tone.
Shaking off his daze, the doctor nodded rapidly and knelt beside the chair.
"It is... an honor to meet you, My Lady. May I inspect the injury?"
With a stern nod, the Duke gently loosened his grip on Lefonya's hand. The soft skin showed a small laceration from the blade. It was hardly a serious injury. Feeling an inexplicable wave of embarrassment, Lefonya stared straight down at her bloody fingertip.
"Just disinfect it and put some ointment on."
"The Young Lady is remarkably brave. When the young masters were that age, they would wail inconsolably at the mere sight of their own blood."
"It's not even a big cut..."
"My Lady, regardless of how small the injury may be, you must cherish your body."
At the physician's solemn words, the butler, the maidservants, and the Duke all nodded in profound agreement.
'What is wrong with this mansion?'
Raising such a ridiculous fuss over a tiny scratch on a finger?
"Ponya."
A deep, gravelly voice suddenly uttered the ridiculously adorable nickname.
'Did he... just call me that?'
Lefonya turned her head toward him.
"Tell me if it hurts. I shall blow a Healing Breeze upon it."
"...What is that?"
Duke Craitan was a renowned Aura User. Did that mean he could summon wind-attribute aura?
"Hooo."
Pursing his lips into a small circle, the Duke gently blew over her injured finger. Hooo.
"……."
The people in this estate definitely had a few screws loose.
Imperial Academy dormitory.
"Father did... what?"
Reading the letter delivered from the butler, the young man let out a scoff of utter disbelief.
"Has he gone senile already?"
The parchment in his grip crumpled under the sudden force of his fist. The contents of the letter were succinct: his father, Duke Craitan, had adopted a daughter.
"Just what kind of swindler sweet-talked the old man?"
The young man swept back his silver hair with a dry chuckle. For three consecutive years, he had sat for the graduation exams only to deliberately refuse graduation, lingering in the halls like a fixture—the Academy's resident troublemaker, affectionately known as the living fossil.
He was the notorious mad dog of House Craitan: the Duke's second son.
"Looks like I'll have to pay a visit home."
Felence Craitan rose to his feet.