Chapter 5
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: A Father's Bewilderment
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Her father, the Minor House Lord and commander of the Imperial Palace Great Bear Knight Order, Jerome Setia, narrowed his eyes and stared at her in response to his daughter's utterly unimaginable reaction.
He had approached after spotting blood on her finger from afar, expecting her to flop onto the ground and burst into tears once again...
He could never have imagined a response like this.
His daughter's movements were like those of someone who had trained in martial arts for years.
Moreover, though her motions were slow, befitting her age, the trajectory traced by that casually swung branch was impeccably clean.
'...An illusion?'
Jerome stared at Charlotte, too stunned to speak.
"What you just did..."
Before Jerome could even finish his question, Charlotte scratched her chubby cheek and set the branch down on the ground.
He suddenly noticed her delicate, childlike hand—soft and unblemished, as if it had never once gripped a sword.
'...No, that can't be. I must have seen wrong.'
Jerome shook his head, mocking himself for nearly voicing such a foolish question.
The impeccably clean, slow but precise arc drawn by the branch in her hand must have been mere coincidence.
The fact that it had looked far cleaner than the strokes of her older brother, who was formally training with the sword, had to be an illusion too.
As Jerome fell silent, Charlotte blinked her large eyes curiously and asked,
"Who might you be?"
Jerome was already exhausted by his daughter's bizarre words.
"Can't you even recognize your own father now?"
Charlotte's eyes widened slightly in surprise at his words.
'So this is Charlotte's father.'
Though he had entered middle age, her father, Jerome Setia, was still a remarkably handsome man.
Under golden hair that suited the sunlight perfectly, his skin remained fair and smooth despite years of training, and his sharply defined features were quite striking.
'Father... In the book, I just dismissed him as a figurehead, but seeing him right in front of me like this, why does my throat tighten?'
Charlotte was the second of the two children Jerome had sired.
But this father had shown absolutely no interest in his talentless daughter.
'How should I handle Charlotte's parents?'
Dohwa was an orphan.
As far as she could remember, she had never had parents.
Was that why?
Even knowing full well that Charlotte's father was utterly indifferent to her, the moment she laid eyes on him, her words caught in her throat.
After hesitating for a long while, Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
The deep breath, a habit ingrained in her body, slowly calmed her racing heart and cleared her mind.
'I won't hide that I'm not the real Charlotte.'
Eventually, someone would realize she wasn't Charlotte.
Especially if it was her parents—no, even more so.
Even if Jerome hadn't doted on his daughter with particular care.
Even if almost no one had truly cared for Charlotte.
'Still, not pretending to be the real Charlotte is the proper courtesy toward her acquaintances.'
Once she made up her mind, she opened her eyes.
This time, looking straight at Charlotte's father, Jerome, didn't make her uncomfortable.
Charlotte brazenly opened her mouth.
"...I apologize for asking who you are; I've been rude. What brings you to see this young lady?"
Jerome's eyes widened further at his daughter's continued words, leaving him even more dumbfounded.
'Did she just say "rude"...?'
She was just a child to begin with, and one who had learned nothing but tantrums at that—he'd always thought proper conversation with her was impossible.
Whenever they crossed paths, she would immediately collapse on the floor or throw a fit, leaving him no recourse.
He had simply planned to raise her quickly and either cast her out of the family or marry her off.
Yet here she was, gazing up at him with clear, sparkling eyes and speaking softly, as if she were a fully grown adult.
Jerome recalled the pale-faced maid who had just rushed to him, spilling the details of Charlotte's near-suicidal antics.
Despite pulling off such a stunt, Charlotte's eyes were remarkably calm.
And to think she had even suddenly meddled in the Third Prince's affairs, prompting him to summon her home in haste.
'...Was there talk of hiring a new etiquette tutor?'
Jerome cleared his throat to mask his bewilderment and tried to recall business at hand.
"I won't drag this out. Just know that your grandmother, the House Lord, is truly, utterly fed up with you this time."
Charlotte nodded obediently once more, suspiciously so.
Then she clasped her hands neatly and bowed at the waist properly.
"...As the saying goes, 'body, hair, and skin are received from our parents.' Every part of my body and even my hair came from my parents, so I've grievously worried you by daring to harm myself. I apologize."
Jerome's eyes went wide as saucers.
"...Body what?"
"I truly regret it. If you command this young lady to run the training grounds, I shall do so. Please mete out fitting punishment."
'...Why is she acting like this? Does she even know where the training grounds are?'
Jerome suspected his daughter, who kept spouting ever-stranger things, was hiding some scheme again.
Prolonging this would only give him a headache, so he got straight to business.
"Causing such scandals leaves us without face before the other houses. You're confined to quarters for the time being."
Charlotte felt a sigh escape her involuntarily.
Confined to quarters.
What would happen to Joseph then?
'But there's nothing I can do right now anyway. I need to focus on my own training first.'
She rolled her tongue awkwardly, forcing out a word that didn't suit her mouth at all.
"Father."
Jerome turned his head languidly to look at his daughter.
"What?"
"I shall obey your command. But sending me back among those so-called friends would not be a wise decision."
"...What?"
Jerome looked utterly perplexed.
He had thought her behavior odd today, but this was truly bizarre.
Charlotte had always been desperate to fit in with her peers. And now this...
"What do you mean by that?"
Charlotte smiled softly.
"I know what you think of me, Father, but this time, I nearly drowned by accident, and those 'friends' only mocked me. They probably wouldn't have cared even if I'd died right there."
Jerome furrowed his brow.
Given all the nonsense Charlotte had spouted in the past, there was no reason to trust her now.
It only made him angrier to think she was blaming others now.
"I don't want to hear excuses. Keep this up, and I'll betroth you to the Third Prince. Remember that."
There was no real intention of betrothing her to the Third Prince.
No one, Charlotte included, wanted to go near Third Prince Joseph.
Get close to Joseph and catch the Second Prince's ire?
Anyone who knew how thoroughly Joseph was being crushed—prevented even from dreaming of the throne—would steer clear.
But Charlotte perked up at Jerome's habitual threat.
"A betrothal?"
"...What?"
"Perfect timing. I was thinking I'd like to keep watch nearby. Please arrange the betrothal."
"...What on earth did you just say?"
At Jerome's incredulous question, Charlotte smiled brightly.
"This young lady is still sorely lacking, so as you said, betrothing me to the Third Prince would be best. Since I've caused you worry, I must obey your command."
With that, Charlotte bowed gracefully and left first.
Jerome felt an odd sensation.
As if he were dealing with a sly, seasoned politician.
'...Betrothed to Prince Joseph? For someone in the Setia House to say that? Is she daring me to try?'
Jerome scowled, pondering where her words ended in jest and began in mockery.
Gazing at his daughter's back—barely half his height—he found himself calling out to her without thinking.
"Charlotte, wait."
Charlotte whipped around.
Only then did Jerome truly take in his daughter's appearance.
Her cute dress, reaching her knees and dressed up for once, was soaked through.
Her pink hair, neatly braided earlier, was a drenched mess.
Her cute face, with its rosy cheeks, was deathly pale from the water, her lips even tinged blue.
'That's from the drowning fiasco.'
He found her drowned-rat look pathetic, yet strangely impressive that she had remained so composed without him noticing.
If she had been protesting to draw pity, he wouldn't have cared.
But her poise made her seem oddly pitiable.
'Am I feeling sorry for Charlotte right now?'
Jerome forcibly cut off the unfamiliar thought and spoke more coldly to end it.
"No more nonsense. Go to your room and stay confined."
Charlotte glanced down at her skirt following his gaze, then casually wrung it out with both hands. Water dripped steadily, but she shook it off nonchalantly, straightened up, and said,
"Understood. I'll be going now."
That was unfamiliar too.
Charlotte was the type to feign illness for attention even when healthy.
Jerome rubbed his forehead and shook his head.
Why was everything so unexpected?
"I'll send a physician for now."
His secretary, Leit, who stood beside Jerome, nodded.
She must be ill; that fleeting oddness was surely the cause.