“Who do we have here!”
Count Vallidus slurred as he spotted Seraphie. His bleary eyes, the same color as Seraphie’s, were now full of venom as if he might do something dangerous at any moment.
“Father,” Seraphie said, straightening her back as she approached. Her confident approach made the count hesitate for a moment.
A tense atmosphere hung between them. Taking advantage of the moment, the butler quietly ran toward the entrance, followed by one of the servants who had been restraining the count. The remaining servant continued to watch the count closely.
“My one and only daughter.” Count Vallidus was the first to speak, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Do you hit your only daughter on the head with a bottle? Seraphie wanted to retort, but she maintained a stoic expression.
“This father of yours drank a bit because my heart was aching.”
You’re going to send someone to their grave with that excuse, Seraphie cursed inwardly. Come to think of it, he had already sent one person to their grave. It was the very daughter standing before him.
“And you don’t have a single word of concern?” Count Vallidus was annoyed by his daughter’s recent defiance. For some reason, the way she looked at him seemed unusual, making him uneasy. His irritation and displeasure, mixed with alcohol, burst out as a sharp, sarcastic remark.
Seraphie unconsciously scowled, but only for a brief moment. She needed to endure this for now. She glanced toward the direction where the butler and the servant had gone, then refocused on the count.
The person standing before her was no longer human. Count Vallidus, consumed by alcohol, was a perfect example of a monster wearing a human mask. He was brutally strong against the weak and despicably weak against the strong. He found relief in trampling the weak and fled without putting up a fight from the strong.
“…”
How utterly pathetic he is.
Seraphie’s eyes flickered as she took a deep breath. “Father!” Then, she suddenly cried out, throwing herself into the count’s arms, which reeked of alcohol.
The count was visibly startled by the unexpected move, almost regaining his senses after a long time.
“Please, stop it now!”
“W-What…!”
“If you keep this up, you’ll hurt yourself! Please, just stop…!” Seraphie sobbed, resting her head on the count’s shoulder. At the same time, she perked up her ears.
Beyond the dirty breaths of the count, tainted with alcohol, unfamiliar footsteps were approaching.
He really came…! Seraphie suppressed her rising excitement and finally let out the feelings she had been holding back.
“…Trash,” she whispered in a cold voice, sharp as a blade in the Count’s ear.
“Why do you live like this?” Seraphie murmured softly, making sure only the count could hear. “I really can’t understand.”
The count’s shoulders trembled. When he was heavily drunk, he sometimes heard hallucinations or saw things that weren’t there. But in his current state, he was unable to determine if this was another hallucination. And there was no need to.
“Growling at only those weaker than you.”
Every word he heard was real.
“How disgusting it is to see you pretending to be strong.”
Count Vallidus thought it was a dream. His daughter, who used to be so docile, was now pouring out vivid criticism and insults. Her words were whispered softly, only for him to hear, yet they were harsh and sharp.
For the first time, the fog of drunkenness began to clear. The count looked at the servant beside him. The servant, unable to hear Seraphie’s words, only stared at her with concern.
“If you’re going to die, do it quietly by yourself.”
At those words, the count turned his gaze back. There was his daughter, blinking her moist eyes, pleading to him.
“Or….”
But what came from her mouth was no plea.
“Shall I kill you instead?”
Her delicate hand clung pitifully to the count’s shoulder. He felt as if a cold block of ice had been placed on him, the chill wrapping around his throat.
“That way, the daughter you killed might finally rest in peace.”
The pale-faced Count Vallidus looked down at his trembling daughter. Seraphie’s complexion was even paler than his, but her eyes were sharp as a blade, threatening. Her light pink lips moved. He slowly read those lips.
You murderer.
“T-This…!”
As the terrified count raised his hand high, the bright light from the ceiling was obscured, casting shadows over his face. His half-mad eyes and quivering lips no longer belonged to a sane man.
“Kyaaa,” Seraphie let out a scream and collapsed to the floor.
“Master!” The nearby servant hurriedly grabbed the count.
While the servant struggled to restrain the count, Seraphie covered her face with both hands and sobbed. Her small shoulders shook like a fragile bird struggling in its nest.
“Let go, you b*stard!”
“Master, please stop!”
The count, now restrained, was out of his mind. He hurled curses at Seraphie, who lay crumpled on the floor before him. “You worthless wretch! You cursed b*tch!”
“Father…”
Seraphie’s sobbing, with her face buried in her hands, made her seem the weaker party to any observer. But not in the count’s eyes.
“You monster! Everyone’s been fooled by you!”
“Sniff, sob….”
“That damn b*tch! Do you know what she just said to me!”
“Father, please, stop….”
Seraphie, who had almost fallen to the floor, clung to the hem of the count’s trousers. Though clinging might be too strong a word—her trembling fingers barely brushed the hem as if pleading. The servant, unable to bear the sight, looked away.
But Seraphie’s attention was elsewhere. With her head lowered, she kept her ears alert. Despite the count’s loud outbursts, she focused on the sounds beyond them.
“If there’s a knight looking for me.”
Seraphie had instructed the butler and the servants in advance. If a knight came to return the necklace, they should signal her when bringing him into the mansion.
“What kind of signal…”
“Just something simple.”
Complicated signals would only get in the way.
“Call my name. Very loudly”
“Lady Seraphie!” The butler shouted her name as promised.
At that moment, Count Vallidus shoved the servant holding him aside. The servant, who had been thrown back, quickly scrambled to his feet, but by then, the count had already grabbed his daughter’s hair, preparing to strike.
Seraphie squeezed her eyes shut.
…Huh?
But despite waiting, the pain she had braced for did not come. Instead, she felt a strange warmth wrapping around her body, accompanied by a refreshing scent.
What is this? Seraphie cautiously opened her eyes.
“Gasp!” She involuntarily took a sharp breath.
A man with black hair and purple eyes was looking down at her. At the same time, she realized that this person was holding her in his arms. His strong, solid arms were wrapped around her back, and her small form was seated on his thick thighs.
“Are you alright?”
His low, soft voice was something that could make anyone blush.
“…Did you hurt your head?”
Even his muttered words were enough to turn someone’s heart.
Good heavens!
But his handsome face was enough to wipe away any irritation in an instant.
“O-!” Seraphie was about to exclaim, ‘Orkis Felicia!’ but ended up choking on her own spit, coughing hard enough that it seemed like it could take her breath away.
Soon, a large hand gently patted Seraphie’s back. As she finally stopped coughing, she looked up at Orkis with weary eyes.
“Why….”
Why are you here?!
“Lady Vallidus!”
The answer to the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask came from Carl.
“Lady, are you alright?”
Carl, who had been on the other side of the room, asked with concern. At his feet, Count Vallidus lay subdued on the floor.
“Did you hit your head? Are you feeling dizzy?” Carl fussed like a worried puppy.
“You really came…” Supported by Orkis, Seraphie muttered foolishly.
“I made a promise, didn’t I?” Carl replied firmly. His words made the count, who was pinned beneath him, cry out in pain.
“I cannot bear to do anything that would shame my pride any longer.”
Seraphie finally realized that her plan had succeeded. Because she hadn’t expected much, Carl’s arrival deeply moved her.
And on top of that, this man…
Seraphie tried to glance at Orkis but wobbled. The tension she had held for so long was finally released. Orkis quickly supported her waist.
“…Haha.” Seraphie let out a short, hollow laugh. For some reason, she felt like crying. She had just barely made it through a significant hurdle.
Finally, after enduring beatings and the scorn of others, pretending not to care, just to get through this. She had just barely made it.
“A chair,” Orkis ordered a nearby servant to bring a chair.
Soon, a chair was brought from the dining room, and Orkis seated Seraphie in it. As she sat down, Seraphie watched in a daze as Count Vallidus was bound with ropes. Though the count was quite large, he looked like a child between Orkis and Carl.
“Damn it, let me go!”
Seraphie realized anew that the count was unstable even when sober. Then their eyes met, and the count spat angrily at her.
“You ungrateful wretch! After all I did to raise you, how could you do this!”
Seraphie lowered her head. Ah, this isn’t even funny.
The daughter that Count Vallidus had raised with violence had long since died, and the one inhabiting this body was a cherished daughter raised with love by parents from another world.
“And yet you do this!
And what do you call what you’ve done?
Seraphie thought as she stood up. Her body wavered slightly but quickly regained balance as she walked steadily toward the count.
“You pretend to be all innocent, but behind my back, you seduce men like this…!”
“Count Vallidus.”
“Watch your words.”
Orkis and Carl both frowned at Count Vallidus’s unfiltered insults. It seemed that the rumors circulating in noble society had been quite mild. For the count to use such humiliating language toward his daughter—some of his insults were even new to the two of them.
Then it happened.
“Father.”
Before they knew it, Seraphie was standing in front of the count.
“Lady, it’s dangerous…” Orkis began to tell her to step back, but he paused.
Seraphie’s cold blue eyes showed no emotion, only endless indifference as she looked down at the count.
That’s when Orkis finally noticed. With a soft, smooth sound, Seraphie drew a sword from Orkis’s waist.
“Lady Vallidus!”
“Stop immediately…!”
Orkis and Carl tried to intervene, but Seraphie swiftly thrust the sword toward the Count.
Thud! The sword embedded itself in the ground, just inches away from the Count’s groin.
“U, uh…”
The Count let out a strange groan as his trousers darkened. But no one in the room paid any attention to that.
“At the forced succession trial,”
Seraphie’s cold blue eyes were sharper than the blade of the sword.
“I will see you there.”
She then turned away without a second glance.
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