Chapter 7

“Be quiet. If you’re going to keep making a fuss, go to your room.”

“No, no, no! Your Grace! Do you really think this makes any sense? You suddenly bring back a child from outside, claiming she has Oricsa blood, and now you want to register her in your family?!”

The more the man spoke, the more absurd he seemed. The further he went, the louder his voice grew.

“Have you gone mad?!”

At this point, one could only wonder how much higher his voice could go.

Rosaria stared curiously at the man whose face was turning red as he raised his voice.

Noticing Rosaria’s blue eyes sparkling with interest, the Duke gave a low warning.

“Simon. Don’t use such harsh words in front of the child.”

“Wha—?!”

He was so dumbfounded, he might as well have flown to the moon.

Simon couldn’t understand why the Duke, who normally cared for nothing but himself, was so protective of a mere little girl.

Was he under a wicked spell? A curse?

The Duke wasn’t the type to fall for such tricks, but if it was magic, then it needed to be dealt with immediately.

“Oh my, oh my. I came because I heard shouting—what’s going on here? I’ll prepare a bath right away. Will she be having dinner too?”

An elderly woman who had heard Simon’s yelling approached.

She widened her eyes briefly upon seeing the Duke wrapped awkwardly in fabric, but then she quickly composed herself and spoke as if it were nothing.

A woman truly seasoned by years of service in the ducal household.

“You came just in time, Emma. This fellow Simon is completely useless. I need to head out again, so no need to prepare anything special for me. I’m leaving this child in your care.”

“Oh dear! And where did you find such a darling young lady? Truly lovely.”

Rosaria avoided Emma’s kind gaze.

‘That grandma is a liar.’

Rosaria considered herself to have a strong sense of self-awareness.

And right now, she didn’t even need that sense to know how she looked.

She wasn’t lovely in the slightest.

She’d been sick in bed for three days, hadn’t eaten properly, hadn’t bathed—just a scruffy mess of a child.

She didn’t even deserve the “lovely” in “lovely girl.”

Madame Pamela would’ve described people like that as having “buttered tongues.”

‘People with buttered tongues are scammers,’ she said.

Rosaria didn’t know what buttering one’s tongue had to do with scamming, but if Madame said so, then that’s how it was.

So, Rosaria was wary of the scammer grandma, Emma.

“You’re clearly hurt badly. Are you not going to treat your wounds before going out again?”

“These are nothing. They’ll heal quickly if left alone. Someone gave me proper first aid already, so no need to fuss. I just need to change clothes.”

“That’s a wise choice. If you go out looking like that, the rumors about you will only get worse.”

Emma responded in a light, teasing tone.

The Duke, who clearly didn’t relate to Emma’s concern, turned his back as if to go change clothes.

‘Gasp—No!’

Rosaria was about to be left between the loud Simon and the scammer Emma.

“Now, then, darling girl. Shall we go get you washed?”

“Ah, right.”

Just like a chick imprints on the first thing it sees, Rosaria instinctively turned to follow the Duke.

The Duke paused and looked back at Emma.

“Make sure to prepare everything the child says she wants to eat. Also, give her the biggest room in the manor.”

“If I may remind you—the biggest room in the manor is Your Grace’s room.”

“Then give her mine.”

“Pardon?”

Boiiing.

Simon, who had been silent after being banned from using rough language, made a strange noise.

Emma and Rosaria both fell into a silent panic.

What? Give her what room?

“The décor isn’t suitable for a child, so we’ll need to change the furniture.”

Anyone else would have collapsed in shock, but the Duke spoke as seriously as ever.

“Put the furniture catalog in my room.”

“If you’re giving this young lady your room, then Your Grace will be left without one. You’re not suggesting something outrageous like sharing the room, are you?”

“Of course not.”

The Duke looked at Emma like she was the crazy one.

Despite being treated like she was insane, Emma simply smiled softly.

“Then I’ll leave the catalog in your study. I’ll make sure to note the kinds of furniture young girls like these days.”

“If we’re changing owners entirely, we’ll have to replace the wallpaper too.”

“Handle that as well. Oh, right—don’t just change the wallpaper. Redo the floors while you’re at it.”

“Yes, I’ll call someone in the morning.”

Emma nodded calmly, not the least bit flustered.

Simon, who had been listening with a dumb expression, suddenly cut in.

“Are you serious?”

“About what?”

“Are you seriously… giving your room to this scrawny little thing—I mean, this child so small and different from you that she doesn’t even share a single nose hair’s resemblance?”

Simon seemed like he wanted to say “runt,” but after making eye contact with the Duke’s sharp gaze, he had to change the word mid-sentence.

“Then do I look like I’m joking?”

“Hahaha. You went out and came back with a new sense of humor! Hahaha. That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard all year.”

Simon laughed out loud and lightly patted the Duke on the shoulder. Instantly, the atmosphere turned icy.

‘Ah. It’s cold.’

Rosaria rubbed her arms.

The temperature in the room hadn’t changed, but it felt cold to her.

Thankfully, Simon wasn’t completely clueless.

He suddenly stopped laughing and asked, stiff like a broken machine,
“…You’re not joking?”

“No.”

The Duke of Valencia looked at Simon with a gaze as cold as the air around them.

“Simon.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve committed a grave sin.”

He apologized faster than lightning.

With a small sigh, the Duke of Valencia tapped Simon on the shoulder and said,
“Just follow orders and don’t mess around while I’m gone.”

Every time the Duke touched his shoulder, Simon looked like his eyes were about to pop out, muttering things like “Ack” or “Ugh,” but no one paid him any mind.

Having dealt with Simon, the Duke turned to leave.

When Rosaria noticed that Simon and Emma’s attention was no longer on her, she quickly trotted after the Duke and tugged on the hem of his coat.

“Mister, where are you going without me?”

Seeing Rosaria clutching his coat with her tiny, tender hands, the Duke’s face briefly showed a strange expression.

“There’s a process you need to go through to become my daughter. I have to take care of that. And while I’m at it, I’ll get rid of some pests.”

“Pests?”

“They’re troublesome creatures that gnaw at things if left alone.”

Rosaria tilted her head in confusion at the mention of catching pests.

“You’re coming back after catching them?”

“By tomorrow morning, everything will be over. I won’t be long.”

“…”

“Behave yourself while I’m gone. If you stay out of trouble, I’ll praise you.”

“I never cause trouble.”

“Instead, you kept running away.”

‘I never ran away. Besides, I wasn’t even the one you were looking for.’

Even if she told the truth, Rosaria didn’t think the Duke would listen.

Pouting, she reluctantly let go of the coat she’d been holding.

It felt like she was clinging to a fantasy that would shatter after today.

“Alright then, young lady. Shall we go wash up now?”
Emma gently stepped in.

Though not entirely willing, Rosaria had no choice but to follow Emma.

As if he’d forgotten something, the Duke walked a few steps and kept glancing back. But Rosaria didn’t notice—she didn’t have eyes on the back of her head.

“May I ask the young lady’s name?”

“Rosaria.”

The Duke had called her by her full name with a family name, but for now, she only gave her first name.

Emma smiled warmly upon hearing it.

“What a beautiful name—just as lovely as your face.”

‘But I’m not pretty. Does that mean my name’s not great either?’

Having lived in a place where harsh, blunt words were common, Rosaria didn’t know how to respond to Emma’s kind compliments. She just fidgeted awkwardly.

Simon, who had been quietly following, suddenly cut in.

He had been examining Rosaria’s face closely the whole time.

“Six years old? There shouldn’t be any girls of that age in the Oricsa family. A side branch, maybe? No, even among the side branches, I’ve heard there aren’t any girls.”

“I’m eight years old!”

Good grief! The Duke and everyone else had mistaken her for someone two years younger.

It would’ve been fine if they said she looked ten, but thinking she was six? That was a blow to the pride of someone who had lived a full eight years.

As she corrected her age, Simon seemed deep in thought.

“Eight years old?”

“Yup!”

“Eight years ago, then…”

Simon abruptly stopped walking.

Emma, however, didn’t mind and continued toward the bath with Rosaria.

“He’s crazy. Definitely crazy. And her name is Rosaria? They used to call her Rosie as a nickname, right? He’s gone mad.”

Muttering to himself where he stood, the only thing Rosaria could make out from Simon’s rambling was the word “crazy.”

That alone made Simon seem truly insane.

Rosaria, worried, gently tugged on Emma’s sleeve.

“Is it okay to just leave that man like that?”

“He’s like that all the time. No need for you to worry, young lady.”

Oh, I see.

Emma also seemed to have realized something upon hearing Rosaria was eight years old, her face briefly changing—but Rosaria, not paying close attention, didn’t notice.

Instead, she glanced back.

Gasp!

Simon was glaring at her.

‘Simon doesn’t like me.’

Meeting his hostile stare, Rosaria calmly accepted that fact.