The Day I Chose My Family
The elderly gentleman who had become the Former Count Renkels by passing his title to his daughter marched straight toward our table with his mouth clamped shut, looking every bit like a man boiling with rage.
Mom remained frozen in the exact position she’d been in while glancing toward the door.
“I’m sorry. But we can’t keep living like this forever. Father wants to stop dwelling on the past as well.”
Aunt kept apologizing to Mom, who was still dazed by the sudden turn of events.
Mom, finally snapping out of it, looked ready to snap at Aunt until her eyes landed on me. She held her tongue.
“Alisa Renkels.”
That was all she said—her sister’s full name in a low, tight voice.
While Mom glared at Aunt, the Former Count Renkels closed the remaining distance between us.
I looked at Mom, then Aunt, then my grandfather in that order before shooting up from my chair.
“It’s nice to meet you, Grandfather. My name is Carolina Diaz.”
I beamed at the Former Count Renkels as I greeted him.
Adults rarely yell at a smiling child, and failing to read the room is one of childhood’s greatest privileges.
The Former Count Renkels’s gaze softened—just a fraction—when it landed on me.
It turned icy again the moment it returned to Mom.
Pretending he hadn’t heard my greeting at all, the Former Count Renkels spoke only to her.
“Serves you right.”
His violet eyes swept over Mom’s worn gray dress, brimming with disapproval.
Mom finally seemed to register what she was wearing and began chewing on her lip.
But the hesitation lasted only a second.
She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders as if she were wearing the finest evening gown in the empire.
“It’s my favorite dress. What about it?”
The sight of his daughter smiling so brazenly—as if she truly meant every word—made the Former Count Renkels’s face flush crimson with fury.
“Father.”
At Aunt’s cautious call, he barely managed to swallow his anger.
After a long moment of seething, the Former Count Renkels finally spat out, “Divorce that wretched man and come home.”
He added, as though granting a great favor, “You may bring the children. I’ll have them added to the Renkels family register.”
But those words made Mom explode.
“Why on earth would I ever go back to that house!”
The Former Count Renkels, who had only just calmed down, immediately flared up again. The teahouse quickly descended into chaos.
It was a blessing that no other customers were present.
When the atmosphere turned ugly, Aunt immediately covered my ears.
I could still hear everything, but the warmth of her hands made it slightly less frightening.
Aunt crouched down to meet my eyes and whispered, “Those two are exactly alike. When they get angry, neither of them can think straight.”
Her voice carried the weight of long years of hardship.
I was actually thinking something similar.
Unlike Dad, who grew calmer the angrier he became, Mom had a fiery temperament.
At the time, my first impression of the Former Count Renkels wasn’t entirely terrible.
I simply thought it was fortunate my younger siblings had been born, and that Mom truly took after her father.
“That house? The one your mother designed herself from the foundation up?”
“Why do you always bring Mother into this!”
Both of them were shouting at the top of their lungs, and for an adult argument, it all felt strangely childish.
But in the very next moment, I began to truly dislike the Former Count Renkels.
While arguing with Mom at full volume, he suddenly pointed at me.
“You wicked girl! How long will you only think of yourself? Will you really condemn your own children to live as commoners forever?”
By then, Dad had received a baronet title upon becoming a full professor at the academy. No matter how ancient the Renkels Count family was, they couldn’t bestow titles on all four of us siblings.
So while the outcome—living as commoners—would be the same, Mom was struck speechless.
Having seized the advantage, the Former Count Renkels repeated his offer.
“Come back while I’m still willing to accept you.”
Even now, Dad was not included in what the Former Count Renkels was offering.
“No.”
Mom’s refusal came in a much smaller voice after a much longer pause than before.
The Former Count Renkels laughed, utterly dumbfounded.
Then, for the first time since arriving, he turned to look at me—someone he had barely glanced at twice.
“What about you? Do you feel the same?”
The raw, unfiltered anger of a grown man hit me, and I flinched.
When I grabbed Aunt’s hand, the Former Count Renkels snorted.
“Father, what are you saying to a child?”
Aunt tried to intervene, but he continued.
“Promise you’ll follow me, and you will become the future Count.”
Aunt had already sworn to live alone in memory of her deceased fiancé, so the Former Count Renkels’s bold claim would likely come true.
Still, it didn’t sound like the words of a man who genuinely wanted to pass his title to a granddaughter he had just met.
I could feel that every ounce of his attention was fixed on Mom, as though he were waiting for her reaction alone.
The moment his gaze shifted toward me, Mom—who had been watching with extreme wariness—began biting her lip again.
Our eyes met across the space between us, but Mom remained silent.
“From then on, your only family will be me and Alisa Renkels.”
Seeing Mom’s tightly sealed lips, the Former Count Renkels drove the point home like a nail.
In a society built on class, the difference between having a title and not having one was enormous. Having experienced that gap herself, Mom must have felt it even more deeply.
Complicated emotions swirled in her violet eyes.
I smiled brightly at her.
My grandfather is actually kind of petty, I thought.
“No.”
My refusal was far more decisive than Mom’s had been.
Even as a child, I understood that being a count was an incredibly important position.
But I didn’t believe a count’s title was worth trading away my small world for.
If I had to choose my family, the answer was obvious.
And that choice never once changed, even after I became an adult.
Having received two firm “No”s in a row from his young granddaughter, the Former Count Renkels’s face began flushing red again.
Just before he could explode, Count Renkels stepped in first.
“Father! Say nothing more. Let’s just leave.”
Count Renkels practically dragged the Former Count Renkels out of the teahouse.
Even after they were gone, Mom sat there for a long time.
“Won’t you regret it?”
Only when we were finally on our way home did she ask, her voice careful.
“Regret what?”
I tilted my head with the innocent expression of a child who understood nothing.
Only then did Mom’s face soften.
Mom and I never spoke of that day to anyone.
And after that, I never met anyone from the Renkels family again.
“When I was little, I used to grind my teeth and swear that if the title ever came to me, I’d return it to the imperial family immediately.”
Children just entering puberty tend to be proud and dramatic.
Now that I was an adult, I had begun to wonder if there was really any need to give the title back.
Returning it would only benefit the emperor anyway.
If I refused the title, one of my younger siblings would inherit it according to the line of succession.
It wouldn’t matter if Count Renkels fell in love again later in life or adopted a child from a collateral branch.
I was perfectly content with my current life.
With that thought in mind, I returned to the office, still trying to figure out how to visit the detached palace without running into Count Renkels.
“I’m back.”
The office was strangely quiet.
Are they all here?
The others, who had been sprawled in their seats with exhausted faces like they’d just survived a catastrophe, slowly began to rise one by one.
Then they greeted me in incredibly awkward tones.
“Have you returned, my lady? I mean—have you returned?”
When Derek glitched like a broken machine, Lucy smacked him squarely on the back.
“Ow!”
Pain flared in the exact center of his back where her hand couldn’t reach, and Derek writhed like a dramatic performance artist.
Lucy nudged him toward the wall.
While Derek pressed his back against the cool surface, Lucy smiled brightly and handed me a glass of apple juice with ice cubes clinking inside.
“It was hot outside, right?”
“It was pretty warm, but…”
For some reason, it felt like there was something else in the juice besides apples, water, and ice.