Viaton was one of the few people who could provoke Emperor Ron’s temper.
That also meant Ron allowed him to stay unusually close.
[Your Majesty. Haven’t I repeatedly advised you to let go of your prejudices? These days, mung beans can grow from soybeans, and soybeans from mung beans.]
That sentiment applied to Viaton himself.
He was born into a family of magicians. So, learning the sword had involved many twists and turns.
The elders of his family had told him countless times: how could a child born with a magician’s blood learn such a vulgar skill as swordsmanship?
If it weren’t for his open-minded mother, he might never have learned the sword at all.
Ron, having witnessed Viaton’s entire growth process, couldn’t deny that.
[However nicely you put it, that still doesn’t sound like a respectful tone of advice.]
[You always criticize my tone when things don’t go your way. You do realize that’s incredibly petty, don’t you?]
[If you’re so upset, why don’t you become Emperor yourself?]
[What if I say yes and get executed for treason?]
[Sounds like a solid outcome.]
It was the kind of conversation that would make the imperial citizens or any court official clutch their necks and faint if they heard it.
Then Viaton seemed to recall something.
[If it’s innate chanting, that explains this phenomenon. She chanted without mana, so naturally she fell asleep. It’s understandable—though perhaps hard to grasp for Your Majesty, who’s dedicated your entire life to the sword.]
Ron stared at Isabel for a while.
“Mnyah, mnyah.”
This was an unprecedented occurrence—something that hadn’t happened in the past 500 years.
A little time passed…
Flash!
Isabel opened her eyes.
‘Nice, I’ve recovered my strength.’
She was delighted.
[Is the princess… happy? Or am I seeing things?]
[It looks the same to me.]
[Does she have a reason to be happy?]
[They say children capable of innate chanting resonate with mana and feel joy from it.]
[Are you lying just because I’m ignorant?]
[My mother taught me.]
[What a strange truth.]
Isabel truly was in a good mood.
‘Even though I only slept for a moment, my body feels light.’
She was genuinely happy.
It was completely different from when she had been in the hospital.
Back then, no matter how much she slept, she remained exhausted, and even moving a single finger was too much.
It wasn’t an exaggeration—just lifting a finger had been painful.
But now, simply not feeling that way made her overjoyed.
‘Huh?’
Isabel felt her father Ron’s gaze.
She lifted her head to look at him.
She lifted it too high and wobbled a bit.
‘My head is so heavy!’
But Isabel didn’t give up.
With determination, she shouted.
“Abyo-o!”
With sheer will, she stabilized her body.
I’m coming up. Just wait right there.
Heave-ho!
She stretched out her right arm.
It touched the next stair.
‘Now the left arm!’
She reached again. Now both hands were on the step above.
‘Next is the right foot!’
She moved her right leg.
‘This is fun!’
Even the simple act of climbing felt like a thrill in this infant’s body.
She was slightly out of breath—but even that felt exhilarating.
‘I’m out of breath, but my heart doesn’t hurt.’
She felt like crying.
Her heart didn’t ache. Her lungs didn’t sting.
She didn’t need to breathe cautiously.
Back then, even a deep breath would sting her chest.
Hoo! Hah! Hoo! Hah!
Even with these passionate breaths—it didn’t hurt.
“Oowah!”
She was climbing!
Isabel kept going with determination.
To one-year-old Isabel, these stairs were a towering mountain.
‘I did it!’
She reached the top seat where Ron was.
Isabel turned to look back.
Many people far below were staring up at her.
Their faces were full of shock.
“Appa-mama!”
She shouted it with relatively clear pronunciation.
She had practiced for days for this moment.
She clung tightly to Ron’s calf.
Sniff sniff.
‘Smells good?’
Ron smelled nice.
‘And warm.’
He was warm. A warmth she had never felt before.
Now that she was hugging him, she could truly feel it.
‘I really have a dad too.’
Hehe.
She looked up at Ron with her tiny head tilted high.
‘Wait… can I do this too?’
Her baby curiosity took over her body.
Clinging to Ron like a koala, she began to climb.
Even with a Bilotian body, one-year-olds were still just that—one-year-olds.
She didn’t get far.
Thud!
She landed on her butt.
Thanks to the soft diaper, it didn’t hurt much.
“Kyahaha!”
Ron silently watched her bright laughter.
His eyes trembled as he stared at this unprecedented daughter who had fallen after clinging to his leg.
‘Climb failed.’
But it didn’t matter. Babies were allowed to fail.
She pointed to Viaton.
It was hard to resist the urge to act smart in this little body.
“Bu-gang-ajji.” (Deputy Uncle)
What she meant was—I may be a baby, but I know your title and identity.
Viaton looked at her with a smile, placed a hand on his chest, and gave a courteous bow.
It was a greeting.
She also waved to her four older brothers.
“Oppa-mama.”
Because it sounded like “Appa-mama,” the word “mama” got attached regardless of her will.
It was a side effect of having practiced “Abamama” for days.
Hehe—she laughed.
Not because she wanted to, but because the joy came naturally.
They were just so dazzling.
Her second brother mumbled as he looked at her.
“So this is what it’s like to have a little sister… she’s so cute.”
Sermon, her second brother, was weak to cuteness.
Not that he realized he was even cuter himself.
Looking at him—who felt like the very embodiment of the word “adorable”—she laughed even more brightly.
“Owo (you too)!”
Then came the fourth brother.
Four years older than her, he was five now.
He flared his nostrils in frustration.
He seemed deeply upset.
“Brother, aren’t I cuter?”
“Jealousy doesn’t suit cuteness.”
“But I’m definitely cuter.”
The second brother was firm.
“Nope. Isabel’s cuter. No doubt.”
“…How frustrating.”
Her fourth brother looked at her as if she were a mortal rival.
But Isabel was simply enjoying herself.
It really felt like she had a family now.
Only her father Ron’s face remained unreadable.
‘I’ve created the variable. Time to finish my task.’
She had prepared for this moment for a whole year.
‘Come on, assassin. Just try showing up.’
He wouldn’t be able to.
She hadn’t chosen “Hail.” She had chosen her father, the Empire’s strongest sword.
No matter what, choosing Dad was the ironclad rule in romance-fantasy.
…At least, that’s what she decided.
Grunt, grunt.
She hopped up and clung to her father’s leg again.
Grunt! Grunt!
She climbed like a koala. She got about 15 cm off the ground.
Her hand reached the sword at his waist.
“Shon-taek!” (Select!)
She had practiced this pronunciation too.
She made it clear—I chose Dad’s sword on my own will.
Viaton, quick to catch on, stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, it appears Her Highness has chosen the sword. Is that correct, Princess?”
“Uh-huh!”
She nodded vigorously.
“She can already communicate with adults… astonishing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Viaton wasn’t one to hold prejudices.
He didn’t find it strange at all that a mere one-year-old could speak.
“Why did you choose His Majesty?”
“Appa-mama, strongest. Hehe.”
She got distracted by Ron’s dazzling looks and laughed again.
Viaton understood her perfectly.
“She says she chose His Majesty because he’s the strongest sword in the Empire.”
“…Viaton. Are you seriously claiming you’re conversing with a baby?”
He spoke aloud this time.
Compared to when they conversed via mana, Viaton was being far more formal.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“If anyone else claimed that, I’d punish them severely.”
“Even one-year-olds can communicate, Your Majesty. Especially those capable of innate chanting. If I may, I’ll provide proof.”
Viaton knelt before her.
Their eye level still didn’t match, but he looked at her with a bright smile.
She nearly swooned.
‘He’s… glowing.’
A different kind of beauty from her father.
It was fresh and warm.
His playful, light-green eyes were pure and clear, like a child’s.
She burst into giggles at his gentle expression.
Then her father spoke.
“Show me the proof.”
Viaton widened his eyes and asked,
“Your Highness, you do understand me, correct?”
His face was so radiant it was practically shining. She instinctively nodded.
He spoke in a voice only she and Ron could hear—nearly ventriloquism.
“His Majesty refuses to believe you understand words. He’s had very strong prejudices since childhood. Since he was so naturally gifted, he assumes anything he couldn’t do, no one else can.”
“Kyaahaha!”
“Just because His Majesty couldn’t speak at one doesn’t mean the princess can’t either.”
“Kyaahaha!”
She clapped without realizing it. It was her way of expressing total agreement.
‘I know, right?’
Ron had been brilliant from birth.
He was a genius from the moment he opened his eyes, and accomplished everything he put his mind to.
Everything he did was right. He was always ahead of others.
Because of that, he had a fair share of pride and stubbornness in his beliefs.
But then, her father slowly opened his mouth…
