BCHA CH 04

Chapter 4 

I kept my fake smile frozen on my face until my cheeks twitched, forcing myself to look at the twins with gentle, kind eyes. Of course, that didn’t mean things between us would magically change right away.

Still, as long as they didn’t come to hate me like before, that was enough.
From now on, I’d make sure they ate well, wore nice clothes, and saw the world beyond these gloomy walls. I’d take them to flower gardens, feed them sweets, and raise them into warm, bright people—not the twisted monsters they became before.

Goodbye to the old Amannet who bullied the twins.

This time, I’d do everything I could to avoid that horrible death ending.

As I watched, Father let out a deep sigh and gestured to the maids.

“Don’t just stand there—get them cleaned up and dressed properly. And make sure they eat their fill.”

The twins flinched slightly at his words. I looked them over again.

Their bodies were covered in scratches and bruises, proof of the kind of life they’d endured. The marks spoke of beatings, neglect, and years of pain no one cared about.

Even now, they moved hesitantly, afraid, following the adults’ guidance as if they’d long since learned to obey without question.

“Yes, my lord,” the maids answered.

I tilted my head, watching them walk away.

How strange. Seeing them like this, so small and pitiful—it was hard to understand how I’d ever been cruel to them. In my first life, I’d lived no better than they had. Had I really let myself forget that? Maybe being in this child’s body again was making me think like one too.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling sorry. No matter what monsters they’d become later, right now they were just scared little boys.

“Were you out here waiting for me, my dear?” Father asked, his voice gentle.

“Mm-hm. Something like that.”

“‘Something like that’? You sound different today, sweetheart.”

Different? You could say that.

In my previous life, I’d throw tantrums whenever Father wasn’t around. I’d cry, scream, even lash out at the servants when things didn’t go my way.

The old Amannet would’ve been sulking right now, snapping at Father the moment he walked in.

“Different? Kids my age are supposed to be like this!” I said confidently.

“R-Really?”

“Yup!”

I watched him closely. Despite everything, despite bringing those twins home, Father still looked at me with nothing but love.

He’d always been kind—always felt guilty that I’d grown up without a mother. He tried to give me all the affection she couldn’t.

If only he hadn’t brought the twins home, things might’ve been perfect.
Even so… I still loved him.

Without thinking, I ran into his arms.

He caught me easily, like he’d done it a hundred times before. His warmth, his scent—it was all so familiar.

I missed this… I missed him.

He was the first person to show me what love really felt like.
The father I couldn’t protect.
The man who died because of me.

After my grandfather passed away, Father had inherited the title of Marquis. But in truth, he’d been nothing more than Grandmother’s puppet.

Grandmother had always hated me—hated the way I looked so much like my mother.

My mother, a war orphan and a commoner, had married into the noble family against everyone’s wishes. Of course Grandmother despised her… and me, the child she left behind.

She’d tried countless times to bring in another noblewoman to bear a “proper” heir, but Father refused every one of them.

And that defiance was what sealed his fate.

Eventually, Grandmother sent him away under the pretense of “work.”
He never came back.

It was officially called an accident—a runaway horse that trampled him to death. But anyone with half a brain could tell it had been planned.

The horse was killed immediately by the family’s knights, before anyone could question what had really happened. No investigation. No justice.

Grandmother had silenced it all.

If Father had remarried, had a “better” child, maybe he would’ve lived.
But he chose me instead.

That’s why seeing him now—alive, smiling—it made my heart ache and flutter all at once.

He chuckled softly, brushing my hair. “It’s nice to see my daughter smiling at me like that. Makes me so happy.”

I scratched my head awkwardly.

“You like me that much?”

“Of course! You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

“Then promise me, Daddy—you’ll live a long, long time, okay?”

“Of course. Until you grow up and get married—” He paused, suddenly frowning. “No, wait. Forget marriage. You’ll just stay with me forever.”

“Okay! I’ll live with you forever!”

So don’t you dare die again, I thought.
Not from something as stupid as a runaway horse.
Not this time.

But there was something else I couldn’t forget.

After Father’s death, his older brother—my uncle—became the new Marquis.

The most useless man alive: Behel.

He’d ruined half the family’s fortune through greed and incompetence, and fired anyone who dared to speak honestly. The house had been declining ever since.

Even Grandmother had known he was hopeless. That’s why she’d made Father the Marquis in the first place.

I clenched my fists.

That same uncle had later “adopted” me out of pity, only to neglect and emotionally abuse me.

And during that time, he also took an interest in the twins—digging into their past until he discovered their true identities.

That was how everything began to crumble.

I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until Father noticed.

“Ah—Amannet? Are you… trying to hit me?”

“What?”

“You clenched your fists! I thought you were about to punch your poor father!”

“Punch you? What’s there to punch?” I said, touching his arm.

He was so thin.
Other noblemen were tall and broad, but Father was small and frail.
He looked like he could be knocked over by a breeze—let alone a horse.

“Dad,” I said seriously.

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should… build some muscle?”

It was a sincere suggestion. If he weren’t so weak-looking, maybe people wouldn’t push him around so easily.

But he just smiled and shook his head.

“I like my body just fine. Your mother said she loved me the way I am.”

“…”

“Do you… not like it?”

“No. I don’t,” I said firmly.

His red eyes wavered like a wounded deer’s. His long lashes trembled pitifully.

“You don’t…?” he whispered.

Not falling for that face, sorry.

“Nope! I don’t like it. So from now on, you’re going to exercise and eat well, got it? I want your stomach to be strong—like a washboard!”

“What?”

“And your arms should be thick and firm like logs!”

“Oh dear…”

“And your legs—sturdy, like a horse’s! Not all flimsy like this!”

Father let out a small groan, his lips twitching as if he’d just been rejected by his crush.

It wasn’t wrong—Grandfather, who’d died before I was born, was known for his strong build, and even my useless uncle had broad shoulders. Only Father looked like a deflated balloon.

He blinked rapidly, looking lost, before laughing awkwardly.

“I see. You used to say you liked me as I was…”

“That was when I was a baby. Babies like everything. But I’m not a baby anymore, so I don’t! Now start working out!”

This was for his own good. I refused to let him die helplessly again.

He wasn’t stupid—but he wasn’t brave either. Sometimes he’d be clever and sharp, then the next moment—completely clueless.

He froze up whenever people pressured him. That’s why I needed to make him stronger—inside and out.

I looked up at him and said firmly, “You have to promise me, Dad.”

This time, I wasn’t going to lose him.