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Rebecca’s eyes went wide as she looked at my snack bundle.
“You’re not eating snacks?”
“Nope. If I get hungry, just grind up some walnuts and almonds, mix them with milk, and bring it to me. Gotta keep my protein shake ready if I don’t wanna lose muscle.”
“Y-yes, right away…”
I waited a moment while Rebecca scribbled everything down with her pen, then continued.
“At five-thirty, I’ll eat a light salad before heading out to exercise. Make it with lettuce, tomato, and chicken breast. Boil it plain and cut it into bite-sized pieces. Don’t add seasoning, and definitely no sauce.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Maybe she felt I was somehow different from before—Rebecca looked all fired up, even though it wasn’t even her diet.
She was practically sparkling with excitement.
I smiled at how cute she looked, almost like a little sister, then went back to being serious.
“And for exercise… before that…”
The problem was, my room was full of glamorous dresses, tight corsets, and silky lace pajamas.
There wasn’t a single thing resembling workout clothes.
And there’s no way I’m jogging ten laps around the training field in a ballgown.
“Book an appointment with the tailor for tonight.”
After asking Rebecca to call the tailor, I headed straight to the Duke’s room.
My father, Duke Leonard Diollus.
His quarters were at the very end of the third floor, and the whole hallway already felt gloomy and cold.
The giant door looked like it would never open, no matter how hard you knocked.
“My lady? What brings you here?”
Just as expected, the one guarding the door was the old head butler, Rob.
“What else? I came to see Father.”
“…?”
Luverture Diollus, the poor abused daughter, wants to see her father.
That had literally never happened before—and it wasn’t supposed to happen.
Rob’s face twitched, caught between confusion and annoyance.
He lowered his voice carefully.
“You know the madam isn’t home right now. When she returns from her rest, you may see His Grace then.”
By “madam,” he meant the Duchess, Molga Diollus.
She always made sure to block me from seeing my father, and without her approval, I couldn’t even glance at him.
But lucky me—Molga was away today.
Meaning this was one of the rare, precious chances I had to actually meet my father.
I crossed my arms.
“Strange, isn’t it? A daughter can’t freely go see her own father in his own house? And a mere butler thinks he can order the duke’s daughter around? Pretty disrespectful, don’t you think?”
“…Pardon?”
Rob blinked like he couldn’t believe his ears.
“I get that your hearing’s failing with age, but that’s your problem, not mine. You shouldn’t make your lady repeat herself twice.”
I gave him a sweet smile and patted his shoulder.
“Remember: keeping basic manners is the only way you get to keep earning a paycheck here.”
“My lady? What on earth—”
“I said, open the door. Or do I really have to say it again?”
Now he started shaking with anger.
Normally, it would’ve been laughable for a servant to act this way toward his master’s daughter.
But yesterday, this had still been “normal.”
Because Rob was one of those who helped isolate Luverture.
The sly old fox.
He’d turned a blind eye to the abuse, and worse, he actively blocked me from meeting my father or brothers—always acting as Molga’s watchdog.
“I heard you had a… breakdown after a suicide attempt. Seems it’s worse than I thought. I also know you slapped Young Master Ricky.”
“…”
“When Madam returns, she’ll personally educate you again in proper manners. Until then, you’d better stay quiet and reflect in your room.”
Now he was smirking, adjusting his monocle like he’d already won.
Madam, “manners education,” reflection… All words meant to scare me.
Because Molga’s so-called “education” was nothing more than mental torture, belittling, and constant yelling—something Luverture absolutely hated.
“Good. At least you know I’ve gone a little crazy.”
“…What?”
Without hesitation, I shoved past him and kicked the door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“W-what are you doing—!”
Panicked, Rob tried to drag me away, but I just grinned at the flustered old fox.
“I’ll let Father know personally. That you’re going deaf in your old age, and maybe it’s time you stop working for this house.”
“You—what…!”
Rob went pale, staring nervously at the still-closed door.
Then—creeeeak.
The heavy door slowly opened, and a chilling air spilled out.
Through the crack, I saw a tall man with ghostly pale skin, unfocused golden eyes, and huge dark circles under them.
His face was expressionless, almost corpse-like.
“…What is this?”
My father.
Duke Leonard Diollus.
He looked down at me with a detached, empty gaze.
“Father, I came because I have something to say.”
“…What?”
“Your Grace! It’s nothing important! Whatever she needs, I can handle. Please excuse this disturbance.”
“No, Father. I need to say it directly to you.”
“….”
“Your Grace! Truly, it’s not—”
Rob’s voice rose in panic.
My father immediately frowned—he hated noise.
The moment his face darkened, Rob snapped his mouth shut.
“…Come in.”
With a tired look, my father opened the door wider.
I flashed a mocking smile at Rob, slipped inside, and slammed the door behind me.
‘Ugh, I can’t see a thing.’
With the door shut, the room was pitch dark.
Then came the slow footsteps of my father.
A faint glow appeared as he lit the candle on a side table.
“What do you want?”
He dropped onto the sofa like a sack of wet sand, resting his chin on his hand, eyes locked on me.
‘Wow… he’s in a bad state.’
I already knew, but seeing it up close was worse.
He was thirty-six this year.
With his fiery red hair and unique golden eyes, he was strikingly handsome—so much so that he looked just like me.
If it weren’t for the dark circles, the gloomy face, and the stench of alcohol, I might’ve burst into tears at finally seeing my dazzlingly handsome father.
But instead—
He sat there in an unbuttoned shirt, eyes glazed from being drunk.
‘Total wreck.’
The table was littered with empty liquor bottles.
I couldn’t help clicking my tongue.
“…Haa.”
I sighed, then went straight to the window.
Whoosh—!
I yanked open the heavy curtains, flooding the room with sunlight.
‘Time to air this dungeon out.’
I forced the window open too, letting fresh air sweep inside.
Turning back, I saw my father shielding his face like some vampire burning under the sun.
“….”
He didn’t even ask why I was doing this—maybe he was too tired to care.
Instead, he lazily fished in his shirt pocket.
Outcome… a cigarette pack. He lit one up without hesitation.
‘Seriously? Smoking in front of your underage daughter? What the hell, Dad?
I was so dumbfounded, I didn’t even know where to start.
But I did know why he’d become like this.
‘After Mom died, he drowned himself in alcohol and cigarettes… and ended up dead at thirty-nine.’
He was thirty-six now.
‘Whether it’s his liver or his lungs, he won’t last long at this rate. I need to stop him—starting with booze and smokes.’
I watched him inhale until his cheeks hollowed, then spoke up.
“Put out the cigarette.”
“…What?”
Does everyone in this house make me repeat myself?
I pinched my nose and mouth, exaggerating my disgusted face, and repeated, louder:
“Put it out. Right now. You don’t expect me to sit here and breathe all this poison, do you?”
At that, something flickered in his dull eyes.
He blinked, glanced at me, then at the cigarette in his hand.
A bit awkwardly, he stubbed it out in the ashtray.
