Chapter 8
Chaeri’s heart began to pound.
“A full set of children’s fairy tale books?”
It wasn’t just one or two books — it was an entire collection, dozens of them. And the books were glowing faintly.
They looked strangely luxurious, too. Chaeri reached out almost on instinct.
“I picked them as artifacts that can be stored in your inventory, Chaeri,” said Davice.
Her nostrils flared.
She had worked so hard all day to not act like a child. But come nightfall, her willpower crumbled. Her tired body chose instinct over pride.
Davice flicked her nose lightly.
“Chaeri, steam’s coming out of your nose.”
Chaeri was already holding one of the books.
<The Brave Turtle, Kkobuk>
On the cover stood a turtle with a confident expression.
Lately, she’d been weak against animal characters. Especially dinosaurs… and turtles.
“Shall I read it for you?”
“Yes, please.”
Davice sat cross-legged and patted his knee.
Chaeri pretended to hesitate for a moment before crawling over and plopping down.
Like a magnet. So natural.
“Once upon a time, there lived a brave turtle.”
Davice’s voice was the perfect “storytime” tone — rhythm, pitch, everything.
Chaeri was instantly drawn in.
It was a story about a turtle who punished an evil rabbit spreading carrots — which were healthy but tasteless — across the underwater palace.
Utterly captivating.
“Lee Chaeri wants to be friends with the turtle too.”
Davice responded quickly, improvising without missing a beat.
“And so the turtle decided: I’m going to go meet Chaeri!”
“……!”
Chaeri covered her mouth.
It really felt like the turtle might burst out of the book any second.
It was a little embarrassing — but also funny.
At times like this, her four-year-old body was brutally honest.
“It’s bedtime now, Chaeri.”
Her eyelids were so heavy.
‘I’m really tired.’
No wonder — she’d been drained at kindergarten, got too immersed in the bedtime story, and climbed the tower two days in a row.
“Davice, are we going to the tower tomorrow?”
“If you sleep well tonight.”
“Okay.”
Davice tucked the blanket up to her neck.
Pat, pat.
No need for a “Good night.”
She was already snoring softly — purr, purr.
Davice stood up.
“Well then, time for me to do my work.”
His manifestation time was limited, after all.
Tonight too — for his young master.
At Sullivan Kindergarten, Shin Seo-ah was in a foul mood again.
“Mommy, I’m the prettiest, right?”
“Of course! Seo-ah is the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”
She was five years old in Korean age.
Lately, Seo-ah couldn’t understand the strange rumors going around kindergarten.
“They said Lee Chaeri’s hair is really weird.”
“Lee Chaeri?”
“Yeah! Her hair is pink. Super weird.”
Everyone kept saying she was pretty, but to Seo-ah’s eyes, she was just odd.
I mean, she’s not a princess — why does she have pink hair?
“Mommy, I decided I don’t like Kang Jun-woo anymore.”
“Jun-woo? Why not?”
“He keeps saying Chaeri’s pretty. But I’m prettier.”
Seo-ah’s mother was an expert at reading her daughter’s heart.
She smiled and said gently,
“Jun-woo must have caught a cold in his eyes. You’re much prettier, Seo-ah. Right?”
“Right.”
That day, Seo-ah walked up to Chaeri and said,
“Lee Chaeri. You don’t have a mom or dad, right?”
Chaeri happened to be in good condition that day — thanks to a good night’s sleep after Davice’s story.
“My mom’s Kim Ha-sun. My dad’s Lee Ji-seok.”
“Liar. You were picked up, weren’t you?”
She looked like she just had to win.
Her eyes said, ‘I have a real mom and dad.’
Chaeri nodded.
“Yeah. I was picked up.”
Seo-ah blinked, a little thrown off.
That wasn’t the reaction she expected.
But she quickly straightened up and said proudly,
“Kids without moms and dads shouldn’t act all cocky.”
“Okay. I won’t. Sorry.”
For some reason, Seo-ah felt her temper rise.
She was winning, yet somehow it felt like she was losing.
“Shin Seo-ah unnie. Did your mom do your hair in that bun?”
“Of course.”
Well, that bun was kind of enviable, to be honest.
Maybe Davice could do it for her too.
“You don’t have a mom, so no one does it for you, huh?”
“I have a mom. I just can’t ask her.”
“Because she’s not real?”
“Should I show you my resident registration?”
The “resident registration certificate attack” made Seo-ah flinch.
“Re… resi-what?”
“Resident registration certificate.”
Seo-ah clamped her mouth shut.
She didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded really powerful.
Then, something actually happened.
“Hmph, I have one too!”
Seo-ah huffed, turned to walk away — and tripped over her own foot.
Chaeri tried to grab her, but she was too small and weak.
And one of the teachers happened to see it.
“Seo-ah, are you okay?”
Seo-ah met the teacher’s eyes — and burst into tears.
“Waaah!”
Chaeri thought,
‘That’s not really something to cry about, is it?’
Still, she was a kid. Maybe it really did hurt.
‘I’m exhausted. I should just sit quietly in a corner.’
She spotted Kang Se-hyun playing with a magic wand.
She’d go rest next to him.
As she trudged over, though—
“She pushed me, teacher!”
“……”
That was when Chaeri realized — even children could be cruel.
“Chaeri, did you push Seo-ah?”
“I did not.”
“Liar!”
Chaeri didn’t even look flustered.
She glanced up. There was a CCTV camera, clearly recording everything.
“Please check the CCTV, teacher.”
Then she trudged over and sat next to Se-hyun.
So tired.
“Kang Se-hyun oppa.”
“I-I saw it,” he whispered.
“I saw Seo-ah fall all by herself.”
“Mm.”
There was worry in his eyes.
Chaeri smiled faintly.
“Don’t worry. Korea’s a constitutional state — the principle of presumption of innocence applies here.”
Se-hyun just opened and closed his mouth.
He didn’t understand, but nodded anyway.
But reality turned out differently.
“Lee Chaeri! Which one of you is Lee Chaeri?”
“Ma’am, please calm down—”
“How am I supposed to stay calm? What kind of supervision is this?”
Seo-ah’s mother had stormed in herself.
“I am Lee Chaeri.”
“You’re the one who pushed Seo-ah?”
Seo-ah bruised easily — even a simple fall left a big purple mark on her knee.
“I didn’t push her.”
“See, teacher? Look how sly she is — lying already!”
Chaeri didn’t feel angry so much as… a little envious.
How nice it must be to have a mother who defended you no matter what.
In her past life and in this one, that was something she never had.
“Mrs. Shin, this was actually…”
“Oh? There he is — over here, Mr. Lee.”
Just then, Lee Ji-seok came rushing in.
The hospital was nearby, so he arrived quickly.
And he happened to know Seo-ah’s mother.
“Director. How could you adopt a kid like this?”
“I—I’m sorry. I’ll make sure she’s disciplined properly.”
“If she’s not your biological child, you should’ve raised her with even stricter manners!”
In the power hierarchy, Seo-ah’s family was the superior.
Her father was a lawyer at the country’s top law firm, Kang & Jang.
Her mother was the daughter of a real estate tycoon — a VIP at a luxury skincare clinic.
Lee Ji-seok was the inferior.
“If something like this happens again… I won’t let it slide. Who does she take after, to be this violent?”
“…I’m sorry. I’ll be careful.”
In her mother’s arms, Seo-ah stuck out her tongue.
Meh-rong.
‘This is why evidence matters,’ Chaeri thought.
She’d even recorded the CCTV footage just in case — evidence secured, perfect.
And yet, she still felt a pang of disappointment.
Because not one person had asked, “Chaeri, is that true?”
With just a few of Seo-ah’s words, she’d become the bad kid.
The teacher who had checked the CCTV with her was nowhere to be seen.
Lee Ji-seok scolded sternly,
“Chaeri. What are you doing? Hurry up and apologize.”
