I had prepared so many things to say.
Weren’t you just trying to carry out your brother Lexo’s private revenge?
You’re nothing but a pack of wolves hungry for power.
Queibek is enjoying the greatest golden age in its history.
So tell me—what truly serves Queibek?
Who is it that’s really gnawing away at Queibek from within?
I had intended to interrogate Luxon with words like these.
But it no longer mattered.
The man I thought had only fainted was already dead.
He had been a figure of some standing—an elder of Queibek, no less. Yet he had died without putting up the slightest resistance. It made me realize just how dire the crisis I had survived truly was.
Days later, we arrived at the Northern Continent.
From here, we had to continue our journey by carriage.
“Could you… say it again?”
“Pardon?”
“…No, it’s nothing.”
Sir Themanon had become unusually cautious in how he treated me.
He seemed troubled, unable to let go of the fact that when I had been consumed by the curse, he had nearly killed me.
It would take him time before he could act naturally around me again.
Just before we passed through the gates of House Dvernon, Sir Themanon spoke once more.
“I’d like to hear it again—just once more.”
“You’ve already asked me thirty-two times, sir. Which words do you wish to hear this time?”
“Ah, yes… who was your biological father again?”
“His Excellency, Depelto.”
“Right, right. Well… you see, there are times when it seems a man is more than just a biological father. Something… a little more affectionate, more full of love. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Never mind, it’s nothing.”
It seemed Sir Themanon was deeply fixated on the phrase ‘a father born of the heart.’
It wouldn’t have been difficult to say those words again. But for some reason, I didn’t want to.
Were those words I spoke back then truly sincere? Or were they just things I blurted out recklessly to tell him what he wanted to hear—just to survive?
Even I wasn’t sure of my own heart.
So I decided that when I truly understood how I felt, I would tell him honestly.
That, I thought, was the least courtesy I owed to a man who had genuinely cared for me.
“Take care, sir. Thank you… I’ll write often.”
He seemed so reluctant to part that he climbed into his carriage and got back down more than ten times.
Claiming the wheel had broken, saying he was feeling carriage-sick—he made excuse after excuse. But in the end, he finally boarded.
I stood there until his carriage disappeared from sight.
Now… it’s time to go see my real father.
I told myself not to expect anything.
My head was certain of it.
And yet, my body and instincts kept betraying me, craving something.
The warm gaze of a father, a kind word, genuine comfort and encouragement.
Get a grip, Seila. Depelto is not the kind of man to give you any of that.
It was exhausting, caught between reason and instinct.
When I went to report my return in his office, I heard exactly what I expected.
“What kind of lady in all the world flaunts such shameful attire, spreading photographs around as if proud of it? How will you ever marry like this? Do you truly feel no shame?”
Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t have hoped for anything, Seila.
I bowed politely.
“I have returned, Your Excellency.”
Depelto was well aware of the “Seila Fever” that had recently swept across the Central Empire.
He simply despised it.
How could the daughter of a noble house, who should be modest and demure, wear clothes fit for men, dragging trousers instead of skirts through the streets?
How could she choose sneakers over the proper grace of dainty shoes or polished flats?
And sandals—even sandals that exposed toes and insteps? Unthinkable.
Suppressing his irritation only barely, he said,
“You promised your name would bring honor to this family.”
“Have I not done so?”
Depelto pulled a file from his desk drawer and dropped it on the table.
“See for yourself.”
Inside was a collection of clippings—every article about Seila he could find.
[Disgraceful Scandal of a Noble House.]
[Her influence may instill dangerous, unwholesome values in young ladies…]
[The Dvernon family has yet to issue an official statement…]
[Shocking trend of exposing insteps and toes…]
[An affront to the Empire’s dignity and refinement…]
The contents were far from flattering.
Seila was displeased but kept her expression neutral.
Where there are fans, there will always be haters.
The number of her fervent supporters had grown explosively—and so had the number of detractors.
Especially parents of girls her age—many outright loathed the Seilia brand.
Even my sweet, gentle dad once hated it when I wore crop tops. He never forbade it, but still…
To the older generation, the designs of Seilia were far too radical.
So this backlash wasn’t entirely unexpected.
Her drama That Woman, That Girl had been a smashing hit, but it too had faced plenty of criticism—claims of weak plot, irritating male leads, even corrupting youth.
Not that any of it really hurt me.
Self-proclaimed fashion experts and cultural crusaders could rant all they wanted.
She had earned fifteen billion just from minimum guarantees and signing bonuses. What was a little hate compared to that?
But to deliberately stitch together only the most vile criticisms just to shove them in your daughter’s face? That takes a special kind of character, Father.
“Have you read them all?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you feel nothing?”
His cold expression and tone snapped Seila’s patience.
What exactly do you want from me?
“People see only what they want to see, and believe only what they wish to believe. It seems to me, Father, that you wish to see me as a vulgar, unrefined daughter.”
“What?”
“The majority of those articles praise me. Embarrassing as it is to say, many call me a trailblazer. High society is calling it the Seila Fever.”
“A view held by a small minority.”
“And yet the clippings you showed me are also a small minority.”
“Your tone is sharp.”
“When you choose to gather only the lowest and most malicious opinions and present them to me, it reveals exactly how you want to see me, Father.”
Depelto frowned.
This wasn’t the reaction he had expected.
The old Seila would have been flustered, apologizing profusely.
The recent Seila would have answered rationally, promising to find a solution.
But today’s Seila was openly emotional.
“Do you take your father so lightly now?”
“I promised to bring honor to this family.”
From her sleeve, she drew out a slip of paper.
A check from the Empire’s largest bank, Roild Bank.
“One billion in cash.”
“And what? You think waving money at me in that insolent tone will make me clap my hands with joy? That I’d be swayed by a mere billion dia?”
Seila had learned from her dealings with Camellia to see through the eyes of the wealthy.
For some, a billion was the toil of a lifetime. For others, it was spare change.
“Yes, a billion is little enough. But please remember—I am only fifteen.”
“….”
“Has any other child of Dvernon brought a billion in wealth to this family at the age of fifteen?”
Perhaps because she had just parted from Themanon, her disappointment in Depelto felt all the heavier.
“I’ll take my leave.”
She half-expected him to explode in rage.
But he did not.
He only watched her retreating back with a strange expression.
Later, sprawled on my bed, I kicked at the blankets in frustration.
Arghhh! My billion!
In my fit of temper, I had thrown away a billion dia. Looking back, it felt insane.
With that kind of money, I could’ve bought a decent house on the outskirts of the capital.
I should’ve bought property instead.
I’d lost my head.
It was right after parting with Themanon—no wonder I had acted rashly.
Still… in the end, it was the right move.
If I wanted to survive, I had to stay firmly on the <World Where All Beauty Dwells> route.
And that meant maintaining at least the barest bond with Depelto.
With barely half a year before enrollment, I needed to present the image of a harmonious, dutiful daughter.
And in that sense, the outcome was perfect.
The fifteen-year-old daughter who presented her family with a billion for its honor… that’s a story worth telling. It’ll look good for my enrollment too.
I had kept my promise to help the family, and gained a noble pretext to boot.
Still—money lost was money lost.
It felt like a weight pressing on my chest, as if something had been carved right out of me.
Arghhh, my billion…!
As I writhed in regret, I suddenly remembered something.
The gift Lady Rachel had told me to open once I returned home.
Quickly, I pulled out the small wooden box.
“Hm?”
Inside lay a ring set with a small blue gem, along with a folded note.
[I hope it proves useful to you.]
What is this…?
