“Pfft!”
I burst out laughing before I could even try to hold it in. The one who had called me was Beleśak, the son of Bieze.
A man with brown hair and brown eyes who didn’t resemble his mother, Seral, in the slightest, but instead looked as if he were a perfect copy of Bieze. His face had a mean edge to it, but as the eldest grandson of the Lombardi family, he was a notorious playboy who was never short of women.
“Puhaha!”
But what stood before me now was nothing more than a little boy who looked barely ten years old. He had done every sort of filthy thing imaginable, leaving me to clean up after him, so just seeing his face used to make my blood boil. Still, when he was young, he had a rather cute appearance.
“You’re laughing at me?!”
That temper of his, though, wasn’t cute at all.
Still, since I had laughed first, I thought he might be offended, so I was about to apologize—
“You filthy half-blood dare laugh at me?!”
—but the words coming out of his mouth were already irritating.
“Half?”
My memories began to return little by little. It was the term my cousins, including Beleśak, used to belittle me because my mother was a commoner.
“Hyung, I think that half-blood is getting mad?”
When I turned toward the voice egging him on, I saw Astaliu, the eldest son of my uncle, standing beside him. If Beleśak made me clutch the back of my neck with his chaotic personal life and violent incidents, Astaliu was just as troublesome with his gambling. A simple-minded musclehead whose thoughts were written all over his face, he was nothing more than easy prey for seasoned gamblers.
In the end, before he entered the Lombardi Knights as a late trainee—after nearly being kicked out by grandfather—he had already lost several buildings to gambling debts.
Right. These two always stuck together and bullied me.
“So what if you’re mad?”
“Gonna cry and wet yourself again?”
Back then, I had been terribly afraid of the two of them. Even if it was just childish teasing, their bullying was vicious. As people often say, children can be crueler than adults. I was far too young and powerless to endure such pure malice.
So whenever I ran into them, I couldn’t even run away. I would just tremble and pray for it to end quickly.
Sometimes it ended with mockery and insults, but on days when Beleśak was in a bad mood, I would end up covered in bruises.
When my father got angry about it, Bieze and Lorels would scold him instead, saying, “They’re just children growing up—don’t make a fuss.”
Remembering the past made my head burn.
“Phew.”
But I calmed myself and asked,
“Beleśak, how old am I right now?”
“Huh?”
He looked at me strangely at the sudden question.
“I asked how old I am.”
I wanted to lower my voice and sound intimidating, but with a child’s body, there were limits.
“You don’t even know that?”
When I spoke with a hint of mockery, Beleśak snapped back,
“You’re seven! I know that!”
I see. So I’m seven.
“Right. I’m seven. You’re ten, and Astaliu is eight.”
Since we differed by about three and one year, their ages were easy to figure out.
“You’re already that old, so how long are you going to act so childish?”
Children always think they’re grown up.
“You shouldn’t keep calling your cousin a half-blood and making fun of her.”
I tried to reason with them gently.
What would children know? This was all the adults’ fault.
But Beleśak’s expression hardened.
“Cousin? Childish?”
It seemed something had already put him in a bad mood. He must have needed someone to vent his anger on, and I had been chosen from the start. Grinding his teeth, he stepped toward me and glared down threateningly.
“Have you lost your mind?”
He raised one hand high.
But instead of striking, he paused—as if expecting me to cower in fear.
When he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, it was Beleśak and Astaliu who became flustered. And that confusion turned into rough behavior toward me.
“Ah!”
He grabbed my hair roughly and shoved me with all his strength. I fell hard, my knees and scalp throbbing. When I looked up, a few strands of my brown hair were caught in his hand.
“Haha! Serves you right!”
As he pointed and laughed at me, his face looked exactly like the one I would sometimes see outside grandfather’s office—telling me to know my place and go do laundry like a servant.
Something surged inside me.
I had tried to calm myself, thinking of them as children, but anger flared up.
“You lowly half-blood. How dare you try to lecture me?”
Poking my head as I lay on the ground, Beleśak sneered.
“Just because you share our surname, you think you’re one of us?”
Astaliu snickered behind him.
“You’re not a Lombardi. So get lost back to the slums, you half-blood.”
“I told you not to.”
“What?”
“I said—don’t call me half.”
Still on the ground, I kicked up and struck Beleśak’s shin. It wasn’t very strong, but the shin hurts even with a light hit.
“Argh!”
He screamed and collapsed backward, clutching his leg and rolling on the ground. I immediately grabbed the book lying nearby and stood up.
“Y-you brat!”
Astaliu, who had stepped back in surprise, hesitated before taking a step forward. Without saying a word, I turned my head and glared at him.
He flinched.
That alone was enough to stop the timid Astaliu in his tracks. After glaring once more to make sure he stayed put, I walked over to Beleśak, who was still on the ground, clutching the book.
“You ill-mannered mutt.”
It wasn’t wrong. His father, Bieze, behaved no better than a dog, and Beleśak himself had been called a bastard countless times.
A mutt, indeed. A fearless puppy who didn’t know the terror of a tiger.
I’ll fix that attitude of yours.
“Y-you crazy girl!”
Even while writhing in pain, his mouth kept running. Good. That meant he could take more.
I began striking his shoulders and arms with the book. It was fairly thick, so it had to hurt.
“Argh! Aagh!”
“Keep calling me! Half! Half! Then you’d better be ready! To get beaten! By an angry half!”
“A-Astaliu! What are you doing?! Get this lowly thing off me! Aagh!”
Beleśak called desperately for help, but the faint-hearted Astaliu was already trembling. No matter how big he was, he was still only eight years old.
“Do you have any idea! How much trouble! You caused me?!”
Ignoring his attempts to push me away, I clung to him and kept hitting.
“Huff…!”
After only a few swings, my child’s body was already out of breath, my arms losing strength. If Beleśak had resisted properly, I might have been pushed back—but fortunately, he began to cry.
“Waaah! Hic, help me!”
His voice was so loud it made my ears ring.
At that moment, the office door burst open.
“What is all this commotion?!”
A middle-aged man with neatly combed white hair and beard, exuding a presence like a lion’s mane—
“G-grandfather.”
It was my grandfather, Rulac Lombardi, the head of the Lombardi family, glaring at me with fury as I sat on top of Beleśak, striking him with a book.
“Beleśak!”
Bieze rushed out of the office, shouting his son’s name like a scream, and shoved me away violently.
“Ah!”
The force was incomparable to Beleśak’s earlier shove. The book flew far away, and my palm and wrist stung as I braced myself.
“Tia?”
A familiar voice called out. My father, who had come out late, saw me and hurried over in shock.
“My goodness! Tia, your injuries!”
I must have looked a mess. Beleśak was the one crying, but I probably looked worse.
“Father! Fatherrr!”
But Beleśak’s wailing was so loud it sounded as if something had broken.
“You! Apologize to my son right now!”
Without even asking what happened, Bieze immediately demanded an apology. His bloodshot eyes made me sick, and I turned my head away.
“Y-you insolent—!”
Furious, he reached out as if to grab me.
“Brother!”
My father quickly pulled me into his arms to protect me. Judging by Bieze’s expression, he looked ready to strike even him.
“That’s enough!”
Grandfather’s thunderous voice froze the situation. Though Bieze still fumed, he said nothing more and only glared at me as if he wanted to kill me. The hallway fell silent, save for Beleśak’s sniffles.
As for me, I quietly lowered my gaze in my father’s arms.
Honestly, I felt embarrassed. I had wanted to leave a good impression on grandfather, yet here I was, fighting from the start—with that idiot Beleśak, of all people.
After glancing between me and Beleśak, grandfather turned to Astaliu. The boy was now clutching the hem of his father Lorels’ clothes, trembling.
“Astaliu, what happened?”
Grandfather asked.
Astaliu hesitated, glanced at his father, then answered,
“W-we were just walking, and that ha—no, Florentia suddenly attacked us.”
…Wow. Listen to that little mutt talk.
