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Chapter 8
“Quite a lot in that will, isn’t there.”
Ezekiel seemed to feel the same way. But unlike me, he only looked mildly surprised.
My chest felt so tight I could barely speak.
Because… that was only natural.
My mother… she wasn’t stupid, but she was definitely not this meticulous.
She was naturally free-spirited and bold. A bit careless, too. Not that she lacked ability—once she sat down at a desk, she could work with almost frightening speed—but she always complained that it was boring, that she hated it.
“Asha, Mom is going to make Caledro the freest place in the Empire.”
“Mom… that doesn’t mean the lord can just skip work whenever she wants…”
“Teaching my heir is part of my duty as lord!”
“You can’t call sneaking out of the inner castle together ‘education’…”
“Hahaha! Right, Asha. Since you agree, let’s go!”
“Wait, I didn’t—MOM?!”
Whenever she got bored, she would escape out the window. And when I complained, she would insist the window counted as a door. That was her hobby.
That kind of woman… leaving behind something this complex and careful?
This is because of me.
I didn’t even need to read it to know. This was a shield she had spent years preparing for me—something to protect me if I was left alone.
“….”
My lips puckered like a bird’s beak. My eyes burned.
I wanted to run to her and hug her with all my strength—but I couldn’t, and that made it worse.
Fortunately, Ezekiel spoke in a cold voice, dragging me back to reality.
“Can you get to the point?”
“Yes. Fortunately, what Her Grace wants from the second executor is simple.”
…Wait.
If Mom refused imperial protection and dragged that man here to appoint him as the second executor…
Then this will—could it be—
The moment I realized it, all the blood drained from my face.
I tried to stop it immediately, but my mouth only opened and closed uselessly.
What is this?!
This was Mom’s doing. Definitely her doing. She had arranged it so no one could interrupt this will.
Her intentions were good, but Mom, this is not okay…!
Instead of my voice, my hands flailed in protest—but the Marquis of Mafilda was faster to speak.
“As the sole heir of the Grand Duchy of Caledro, Princess Sha—Rache Angelica Caledro, Her Grace wishes for the princess to be raised under the protection of her biological father and second executor, Duke Ezekiel Ispahan Ricard, until she comes of age, rather than under the imperial family.”
NOOOOO!!
I could almost see Mom giving a thumbs-up over the scroll.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout until my throat tore.
This is not it, Mom!!
But I couldn’t. And even if I could, it wouldn’t matter.
Because she was already gone—somewhere far beyond reach.
* * *
While the “bomb” of the will exploded and the two adults casually agreed to “discuss details on the way to the capital,” I was left sitting there, completely wrecked.
How did it come to this?
Back to the Ricard family? Now?
Absolutely not. No. No matter what. No.
I desperately wanted to scream, cry, and throw a tantrum—but…
“Why are you slumped over like that?”
Ezekiel, who still hadn’t left after the discussion, made that impossible.
I hugged a doll tightly and turned away in sulking silence.
“Rude.”
“You expect too much from a three-year-old.”
“What?”
He sounded genuinely baffled.
Well, yes. That wasn’t something a three-year-old should say about themselves.
I know that.
Normally, children always insist they’re grown up. No child admits they’re small. I used to be the same before I regained my memories.
So I should hide my true feelings… but—
I don’t want to.
I’d rather not live at all than pretend to be a clueless baby in this situation.
Not that I intended to reveal I was Beatrice reincarnated.
There were many reasons, but the first was simple:
Beatrice Ricard had been executed as a traitor.
And even if I hadn’t chosen it, I had successfully “restarted” my identity. There was no need to drag that past into this new life.
More than anything, I wanted to cut all ties with my previous life.
I didn’t want to be the daughter of the mother who killed me—I wanted to be only the daughter of the mother who sacrificed herself for me.
Besides, no one would believe reincarnation anyway.
In this empire, resurrection and reincarnation were considered taboo nonsense.
So I would continue living as a three-year-old.
Bound, controlled, waiting until adulthood.
That was the only way I could remain Asha—not Beatrice.
And that alone already made me angry.
So why should I even act like a child on top of that?
Forget it.
A child can be mature too.
And if someone called that suspicious, they’d be the crazy one, not me.
Besides, even before regaining memories, I had spoken earlier than most children and used unusually advanced vocabulary.
So the chance of being suspected: basically zero.
Conclusion: I’ll do what I want.
Ezekiel, unaware of all this, let out a dry laugh.
“You expect too much from you?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you expecting things from me. I won’t really respond anyway, and it’s annoying.”
Even with my lisping speech, I tried to be firm.
“That way of speaking—”
Ezekiel narrowed his eyes.
“Sounds less like a three-year-old and more like a thirty-year-old insisting they’re three.”
Hmph. So what?
“I’m sleepy. I’m done talking.”
“You are also extremely ill-mannered.”
…Seriously, I was trying very hard to let this go peacefully tonight.
Is this guy for real?
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.
He stood like a statue—just as I remembered. Colder, sharper, more oppressive than before. Those same icy eyes looking down on me.
But strangely…
I wasn’t afraid.
Before, just that level of reprimand would’ve made me shrink. But now? Nothing.
Instead, I even thought—
Maybe I’ve gotten bold…
And worse… I almost felt like kicking him again.
Of course I wouldn’t. I wasn’t stupid enough to try twice.
So instead, I decided to use my only weapon.
“I guess it’s because I grew up without a dad. So… don’t blame me for that, okay? You can handle that much, right?”
