The temper she had barely held back came spilling out in an instant.
“Hey!” Abel shouted, then, as if nothing had happened, smoothed her hair and flashed an innocent smile.
“But… where am I, exactly?”
“You’re somewhere you shouldn’t be,” came the curt reply.
“Is this where the prince stays?”
No matter how coldly he answered, the conversation didn’t end.
The prince’s face, which had been throwing out blunt responses, now looked increasingly dumbfounded.
“How did you know I’m a prince?”
“Because you have black hair.”
“Ridiculous. Commoners wouldn’t even know my face, let alone what I look like.”
“And… you’re way too good-looking to be a commoner.”
Abel, looking at the still-young prince, replied with mock sincerity.
The sharp corners of his eyes suited his pale skin perfectly, and his hair was as black as ink, absorbing all the light around him.
‘Definitely has the looks to rival the male lead.’
In romance novels, the final boss always had to be good-looking enough to compete with the protagonist.
In this world, a man’s importance was directly proportional to his looks.
The boy, unaware of such logic, took a sharp breath and asked accusingly:
“Are you acting so rudely because you know I’m the first prince?”
The implication was clear.
A bastard born of a maid.
A prince in name only, ignored by the king from birth and stripped of any real power.
But the response he got was completely unexpected.
“Wasn’t I perfectly polite?”
“…Polite?”
“I’ve been taking etiquette lessons—two hours a day, twice a week.”
“…What?”
“Well, I do run away once a week.”
“Are you stupid or just shameless…?”
Strangely, as he mumbled this, some of the tension faded from his face.
“Why were you stepping on the garden shrubs?”
“I wanted to get a better view.”
“Of what?”
“Uh, um… the beautiful palace?”
Abel laughed awkwardly.
No one knew it yet, but this had been a truly historic moment.
‘Thanks to this, I found the hidden first prince.’
Now, all that remained was to guide this potential villain down a more moral path.
“Good thing the branch didn’t break—ah.”
Drip.
A sticky liquid trickled down her forehead.
“Ugh.”
When she wiped her left temple, a smear of blood came away on her chubby palm.
The pain she’d forgotten returned, jabbing at her skull.
The prince observed the sight without emotion.
“You must’ve hit the tree when you fell.”
“That’s… all you have to say?”
“What else?”
Even seeing her pink hair matted with blood, he showed no reaction.
His deep green eyes were eerily cold.
“Don’t you want to ask if I’m okay, offer treatment, or call a physician?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?!”
Oh. My. God.
His tone was blunt, but oddly not malicious.
Compared to how he’d growled at her like an assassin earlier, this was almost kind.
“Yeah. Why should I do that?”
“Are you saying that someone of noble birth like you doesn’t need to show kindness to a lower noble’s daughter?”
“If someone’s in pain, what does that have to do with me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your pain is yours to bear. Just like mine is mine.”
It was a cold, uncaring reply—but Abel felt strangely relieved.
If this attitude came from poor upbringing rather than classism, that was something they could work on.
‘Thank goodness he’s not a full-blown aristocrat snob. Just emotionally neglected.’
If it was just a matter of experience, they could fix that starting now.
‘Early education really is important.’
What kind of life had he lived to speak like that at only twelve?
Abel, wiping away the drops of blood, replied resolutely.
“Still, Your Highness… you’re only twelve.”
“So?”
“When someone’s hurt, it’s polite to ask if they’re okay. Even if you’re not close.”
“Polite?”
“In situations like this, if you have a handkerchief, you lend it.”
“Why?”
“To stop the bleeding!”
“And why should I go through that trouble?”
“Well…”
As Abel searched for a good answer, a familiar voice rang louder in the distance.
“Bell! Bell! Where are you? Bell? Abel!”
“Ah.”
Only then did Abel remember she’d left her father behind without notice.
“I should go now.”
She brushed the dirt from her skirt and untied the white ribbon in her hair.
Then, smiling brightly, she held out her hand.
“This must be fate. Should we be friends from now on?”
Just as the prince opened his mouth to reply to her informal greeting, the desperate voice came closer.
“Beeeell!”
“Oh dear, that’s my dad. See you later, Your Highness!”
After all, social bonds are vital during childhood!
He might not know how to act when someone’s hurt now—but that could change!
Having achieved her first goal, the reincarnated girl gleefully ran toward her father.
“Dad!”
* * *
“I told you to stay right next to me.”
“Sorry.”
“And your forehead—how did you even hit it like that?”
“I wanted to feel like a flying squirrel.”
“Should I buy you an animal encyclopedia or something?”
“No need. A real warrior doesn’t rely on books.”
Even with her head wrapped in bandages from a nasty gash, Abel remained confident.
Dane sighed deeply and lowered his head, repeating the same lecture for what felt like the hundredth time.
“I’m truly grateful for Your Majesty’s kindness.”
“Oh, come now. Kids should be lively, that’s all.”
Abel’s plan had been perfect—until now.
She’d made her mark on the first prince, and now all she had to do was build on that over time.
Or so she thought…
“So, you’re Lord Delaphion’s child. Did you enjoy your tour of the palace?”
“Yes. It was so grand and beautiful, I lost track of time.”
She hadn’t expected to be having tea with the king.
“I had no idea your daughter had grown so much. If I’d known earlier, I’d have arranged things differently.”
“I wouldn’t dare trouble the palace staff for personal matters.”
“I expected no less from you,” the king said with a pleased smile.
‘Doesn’t the king have anything better to do? I know Dad saved his life in the past, but still…’
She hadn’t expected to be this close to royalty.
The king, dressed far too casually, leaned in with a kind smile.
“Such a pretty face—what a shame to scar it.”
“It’s okay.”
“And where did you find her?”
“…Near the detached palace.”
The king’s thick lips twitched with displeasure. His murky green eyes flashed.
“Hmph. Summon the first prince.”
‘What? Just like that?’
Abel was surprised, but managed not to show it.
Less than thirty minutes later, the first prince walked into the reception room.
“You called for me, Fath—”
Clang!
A fork flew from the king’s hand, grazing the prince’s cheek as it struck the table.
Drip.
A thin red line appeared on his pale skin.
Screams internally. Child abuse alert!
“You dare bring shame upon me like this!”
“…I apologize.”
What the hell?! He threw that on purpose—on purpose! He meant to hit him!
Neither the king nor the prince seemed surprised.
‘Why? What is happening?’
Abel already knew the king didn’t care for the first prince.
She knew the prince’s villainous path was shaped by this cold treatment.
‘But still, that was so uncalled for!’
Her pink lashes trembled as Dane’s large hand rested gently on her small shoulder.
Almost as if hearing her confusion, the king roared again.
“My knight’s daughter was hurt where you were!”
‘And how is that his fault?’
Even Abel knew better than that. And she was a shameless little girl.
Sadly, it seemed the ruler of a kingdom had less judgment than a ten-year-old.
‘This guy is just blaming him without reason?!’
The king turned red with rage—like someone whose life depended on tormenting a child.
‘Hey, can’t you see his fists clenching?’
The first prince kept his head down, lips pressed together. Blood slowly dried on his cheek.
Then the king’s large hand began to rise.
“W-wait a second!”
Abel’s dangling feet sprang into motion, placing herself in front of the prince.
From a child’s point of view, the king was huge—but he was no match for a knight like her father.
‘Do you know how much emotional damage poor discipline like this causes?!’
Not that this was discipline—just pure rage.
Abel glanced at the small prince and stammered:
“His Highness didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault—I didn’t listen to my father and got lost. I didn’t even see the prince until later.”
Even with the monarchy’s power waning, the king was still the king.
Abel clenched her tiny fists, ready to act if necessary.
‘It’s okay, Abel. If we fight—I’ll win.’
