Episode 5.
There were a few days like that in my life.
Days when I wore pretty clothes even though it wasn’t anything special. Days when the orphanage teachers paid me unusual attention.
I could tell instinctively.
*‘Maybe today… I’ll get parents.’*
As a child, I was desperate. I struggled to prove that I was someone worthy of becoming part of a family.
More polite, kinder, gentler.
With my whole being, I always cried out for someone to become my parent. But not once did I ever get one.
And yet today—this time for sure—I would finally have a family.
I stared fixedly at the director’s office door, from which soft murmuring voices were leaking out.
*‘Don’t get sentimental. This is already decided. That person just came to use me.’*
I pounded my fluttering heart with my fist, forcing it to calm down.
*‘Seriously, why am I excited? Just think about being used and then thrown away.’*
Old memories stirred my emotions for a moment, but I quickly steadied myself and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
With the director’s permission, I opened the door—and immediately saw the man sitting at the head seat.
Elegant and upright, a gentleman in his mid-to-late forties with black hair resembling Iana looked at me.
“Greet him, Fredia. This is Duke Wyss.”
Ivan Wyss.
He was the one who placed Iana, a collateral member of the Wyss family, onto the throne as Empress.
Unsatisfied with merely influencing Iana, he coveted the position of father-in-law to the First Prince.
But he had only one daughter to inherit the duchy. So he had been searching among relatives for a suitable girl.
And then, in the *Imperial Gazette*, he spotted an orphan girl standing beside Helaise.
The Duke must have decided that an orphan with no troublesome relatives would be perfect to use as he pleased—and so he came here.
Duke Wyss held immense power—so great that even birds in the sky would fall at his command. Packaging this marriage as a “once-in-a-century romance” between an orphan and royalty would be nothing to him.
“Hello, Your Grace?”
“Mm.”
The Duke nodded indifferently and looked me up and down. As if he had little interest in speaking to me, he asked the director instead:
“Is the child intelligent?”
“Of course. She’s very capable—exceptionally bright.”
That was coming from the director, who had suffered headaches and stomachaches because of me for days.
Behind her smiling face, she was grinding her teeth.
With pure and beautiful goodwill—at least on the surface—I eagerly joined their conversation.
“I’m truly happy to meet you like this. It feels like a dream that I might finally have a family. I heard from the director that you have a daughter— is that true?”
The director jabbed my side to stop me from interrupting, but I ignored her and smiled brightly.
The Duke nodded.
“Yes, I have one daughter. She’s fifteen—about your age.”
“She’s older than me! I’d love to give her a gift.”
“A gift?”
I carefully took out a ribbon I had kept in my pocket.
“This is a ribbon His Highness the First Prince gave me recently. It’s the finest thing I own.”
“Why would you give your best possession to someone else?”
I answered with the innocent and romantic thoughts I had back when I was still a child.
“I’ve always wanted a family. The best thing I could ever want is one. If you take me with you, that alone is enough for me.”
Back then, I really believed that if I had a family, I would love them forever—share my best things, and live without greed.
*‘How naive. Family is nothing but a burden.’*
It seemed the Duke liked my claim that I had no greed.
That made sense. He was surrounded by people like Iana—two-faced and full of ambition.
Humans change their hearts easily. The Duke probably didn’t fully believe me, but making a good impression now was enough.
“Can you keep that promise? Even if you don’t desire anything, I can provide everything you need. As long as you’re satisfied with what I give and don’t become greedy, you won’t be unhappy.”
I smiled confidently.
“Your Grace, I’m an orphan—and I’m not unaware of what kind of person the First Prince is.”
In other words, handing over this ribbon wasn’t purely innocent.
I knew my place. I knew how far above me this gift was. It wasn’t something I could give away lightly—but I was giving it to him anyway.
The Duke understood what I meant and stared at me with the most striking golden eyes I had seen since coming to this world.
I didn’t avoid his sharp gaze. I met it directly.
He let out a small laugh.
“You’re quite calculating for a child.”
“Thank you for thinking so.”
“Yes. Better someone calculating than foolish.”
Hmm… he seemed more satisfied than I expected. That made me feel a little guilty.
*‘I’m sorry, Your Grace. My goal is to live comfortably in your house, then become useless and get discarded.’*
So please, expect a lot from me. The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment.
Switching to adoption had been part of that plan.
*‘I’ll behave obediently until I grow older, then become useless and get thrown away!’*
I’d save up my allowance, leave with it when discarded, and start a business—like that fried chicken idea I’d thought of before.
Of course, Ivan wouldn’t simply discard a child he adopted for a purpose.
So I had another idea.
*‘A contract marriage!’*
Heh. Good thing I’d read so many romance fantasies. The heroines always escaped their homes that way.
*‘I’ll live as a noble, gather information at tea parties, then find someone suitable and propose a contract marriage.’*
Since I know the story, I could offer valuable information as leverage—just like those protagonists.
Once the contract ended, I’d get a divorce, take my savings, and enjoy my new life.
*‘Perfect!’*
I hid my greedy thoughts beneath a sweet, innocent smile.
“I like the child.”
The Duke spoke as if praising the director. Hearing that made me feel wronged.
*‘All she ever did was abuse Fredia and me!’*
Even now, she kept poking my side to make me shut up.
I tried to endure it, but my frustration burst out.
“Ah! Director, that hurts! Stop pinching me!”
The Duke turned to the director.
The director hurriedly replied,
“When did I ever pinch you? Your Grace, Fredia sometimes tells lies like this. Children her age do that. There’s no need to believe everything they say—especially clever ones who can make things sound convincing.”
Ah. So she was trying to brand me as a liar before I could expose her.
*‘She’s afraid I’ll reveal the abuse.’*
Impressive move.
Instead of arguing, I responded innocently:
“I’m sorry, Director. I must have been mistaken. You’ve taken care of me so well—I know you wouldn’t do that. I’ll miss you so much when I leave.”
Her smile stiffened slightly.
The Duke looked at me suspiciously.
“Has the director treated you well?”
“Yes, of course! She even gave me a special attic room just for me! The other children share rooms, but I got my own—though it was too small for two people.”
The director flinched.
I continued with a bright smile:
“Having a room all to myself must mean she was being considerate, right? Of course, it was very cold at night—but it let me imagine I was the little match girl freezing in winter. Isn’t that romantic?”
I clasped my hands dreamily.
The Duke frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like a lie.”
“Of course not!”
I added more detail:
“Sometimes I imagined my thin blanket was a pile of straw, and I was a hero sleeping in a barn during an adventure. Heroes always have difficult childhoods, after all.”
Seeing my sparkling eyes, the Duke pressed his forehead.
“No matter how much you like it, you won’t be staying in such a room in my mansion.”
Then he shot a sharp glare at the director.
“I’ve heard the orphanage receives considerable funding. I wonder whether the auditors are blind—or simply choosing to look away.”
The director’s face turned pale.
*‘So there was something shady after all.’*
The Duke told me to gather a few belongings and get into the carriage.
I asked him to wait a moment, retrieved a new dress I had squeezed out of the director, folded it neatly, and placed it in front of her office.
*‘I’ll return this. I’ll be wearing far better clothes now. You looked unwell—so take care of yourself and live well, Director.’*
