He had called her without much thought, yet the moment he did, Beatty’s crying came to an abrupt halt. Instead, her face turned so red it seemed as if the color itself was dripping from her skin.
The Duke’s eyes widened.
“Aga?”
"I-I’m not... that young..."
A ticklish feeling swirled in her chest.
It felt warm, like something light and joyful was swelling inside her. At the same time, it was also unbearably embarrassing, like the urge to hide behind tree branches and peek out shyly.
I’m not a baby...
Of course, even before her regression, she hadn’t been fully grown. But in Beatty’s mind, she was an adult who had simply returned to a child’s body.
So she corrected him.
"I am not Aga."
“......”
I see.
She doesn’t like being called Aga.
Recalling the natural tendencies of children, the Duke nodded in understanding.
That just proves she’s still an Aga.
Adorable.
A delicate, lovable child who did not even realize how young she truly was.
Unable to suppress the urge any longer, the Duke reached out and placed his hand atop her soft, golden hair.
“......!”
Beatty flinched.
The sensation of a large hand resting on her head startled her.
Her dark eyes went round, like a fawn caught in the woods, leaping away in surprise at the sight of a human.
His hand moved carefully, as if handling the most fragile glass sculpture. With slow, deliberate strokes, he patted her head.
Perhaps because she was unfamiliar with a father’s touch, Beatty fidgeted with her hands, clearly unsure of how to react.
Even that—those tiny fingers, barely the length of one of his knuckles—was fascinating to him.
For a while, he said nothing, merely stroking her hair.
Then, finally satisfied, he withdrew his hand.
Ah...
Like a cat basking in the sunlight, Beatty had sat still, allowing herself to be touched.
But now, as she realized the warmth had left, her ears drooped slightly in disappointment.
Thud.
The Duke bent down and picked up the small acorn-shaped bag that had fallen on the ground.
He dusted it off, carefully checking for any dirt, knowing how much his daughter seemed to cherish it.
Then, he held it out to her.
“Here.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Only now remembering the bag’s existence, Beatty hurriedly reached out with small, eager hands.
“?”
But the bag never made it into her grasp.
It was a lightweight bag, holding only a few cards, yet the Duke still took the time to carefully adjust the strap across her body, ensuring it wouldn’t be too heavy for her.
“...Thank you.”
Thump.
Beatty ducked her head, her already flushed face burning hotter.
Father just put my bag on for me!
Just like how someone would carefully dress a beloved child...
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Watching the touching exchange, the vassals standing nearby couldn’t help but smile warmly.
At first, we were shocked to see His Grace kneeling...
But it’s the first time we’ve ever seen him looking so happy!
The way the Duke gazed at the young lady was completely different from his usual demeanor.
Since he’s in such a good mood, maybe tomorrow’s meeting will go smoothly for once.
Hoping for a rare peaceful session, the vassals quietly cheered for the gradually improving relationship between father and daughter.
At that moment—
This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.
"Ahem!"
A voice rang down the corridor, shattering the warm atmosphere in an instant.
“Niece...”
A pitifully affected voice called out to Beatty.
She blinked in surprise.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
It was the first time she had ever heard her aunt speak in such a pleading tone.
Pirina forced a sorrowful expression onto her face.
“To think you’ve been accepted by His Grace—I feel so moved, even for myself. But, ah, if only I could clap in celebration... my hands are like this...”
She raised her bound hands for all to see.
The tightly knotted rope, even without her emphasis, already highlighted her miserable state.
Satisfied that she had sufficiently painted herself as a pitiable figure, Pirina moved to the main point.
"But, more importantly, you came just in time."
Beatty only blinked, offering no response.
Growing impatient with her niece’s lack of reaction, Pirina sighed and elaborated.
"Can you explain to His Grace? It seems there has been a terrible misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding?"
"Yes. After all, how did I raise you?"
How did she raise me?
By constantly belittling me. By making me live under her watchful, disapproving gaze. And in the end, by locking me away entirely.
"The sister who gave birth to you is gone, and I... sniff... I had to raise you alone, enduring so much hardship..."
Pirina pretended to wipe away tears while subtly glancing at Beatty for her reaction.
Beatty didn’t even snort.
Ah. So she’s asking me to take her side?
The ridiculousness of it all almost made her laugh.
With that gaze filled with expectation and veiled coercion, it was obvious what her aunt wanted.
"Haah..."
Before she could even feel angry, Beatty was first overwhelmed by sheer disbelief.
This is one downside of coming back in time.
The people who had hurt her had no memory of their wrongdoings.
The times she had been starved, the times she had been struck instead of spoken to, the times she had been locked away with guard dogs ensuring she couldn’t leave—those events had not yet occurred in this timeline.
That’s why she’s speaking so confidently.
At most, by this point, she had only been forced to wear the same worn-out clothes for years, been met with scornful words whenever seen, or had maids instructed to frighten her.
And back then, I was still too young...
Young enough to still hold on to hope because she was family.
She was the only blood relative I had left.
She had wanted to be liked.
She had thought, If I behave well, if I erase all the things she finds shameful about me... maybe, just maybe...
Maybe she would receive even a sliver of affection.
As Beatty remained silent, lost in bitter reflection, Pirina smirked in triumph.
Hah. Just as I thought.
No matter what nonsense she’s picked up since coming here, she’s still just a child desperate for my approval.
It was natural.
Her niece had always sought her favor, obeyed her commands. It had always been that way.
Just like her foolish sister.
"You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Now, go on and tell His Grace."
Now, she wasn’t even pretending to be humble—she was outright demanding it.
"......"
Beatty remained silent.
She really still thinks I’m that foolish child.
How absurd.
Her black eyes turned ice-cold.
"Niece, hurry—"
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why should I speak for you?"
"T-That’s obvious! I’m your aunt! I’m the one who raised you! If you have any gratitude—"
"Gratitude?"
Beatty cut her off sharply.
"I never received anything worth being grateful for."
Her voice was clear and firm.
"Unless... are you expecting me to repay you in the same way you treated me?"
"W-W-What?!"
Pirina flinched, as if struck.
This is... this is strange. Something is terribly wrong!
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Her niece was supposed to follow her lead. The ducal estate, lacking a proper mistress, was supposed to treat her with deference.
Reality clashed violently with her expectations, sending Pirina into frantic denial.
"Hahaha... My dear, what’s gotten into you? You shouldn’t say such things, or others might misunderstand how much I—"
Before she could finish, the Duke, who had been watching with unreadable eyes, raised his hand.
"You talk too much."
His voice was calm.
But his command was absolute.
"Take her to the underground cells."
At once, the knights moved.
"What? Wait! Your Grace!"
For the first time, Pirina abandoned her usual arrogance.
She even spat out a title she had always refused to acknowledge.
"Brother-in-law!"
The Duke’s brow twitched.
"Yes! I admit it! I stole the child’s funds!"
She confessed to the least of her crimes.
"Yes, I misused the gold meant for her, I regret it so much—"
She feigned remorse, but the Duke’s expression didn’t change.
Pirina panicked.
"You’re being too harsh! If my sister saw this—!"
She never finished.
"How dare you."
The Duke’s voice rumbled like a lion’s roar, shaking the corridor.
"You dare take my daughter and play your twisted games, and now you speak of my wife?"
The golden fire in his eyes flared, his rage sharpened like a blade.