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Chapter 10
It was a deliberately provocative remark. Even so, Ezekiel’s eyes remained completely impassive and deep blue. In those icy, sea-like eyes, there wasn’t even the slightest ripple at my words.
But it didn’t matter. I hadn’t expected anything in the first place.
What I had long wished for was only one thing.
If I was going to die like that anyway, I should’ve tried speaking honestly at least once.
That didn’t mean I was being rude without reason. There was another purpose behind it.
If I act obnoxious enough, maybe he’ll back out of this oath and give up on raising me. I hope that happens.
I hugged the doll my mother had made for me tighter. But my eyes stayed locked on Ezekiel, refusing to lose in this silent battle of wills.
If this had been in my previous life, he would’ve probably told me not to look at him and ordered me to disappear from his sight.
Why had I been so afraid of him back then?
Now it all felt almost laughable.
“…The Sol-Physis Oath cannot be stopped once its seal is broken.”
Ezekiel, however, was not someone who yielded easily, past or present.
“Becoming an executor of the oath is a magical contract. It is not mere empty words scattered into the air—it has real binding force. Naturally, if you refuse cooperation, you will pay a corresponding price.”
I already knew that much.
But that price isn’t random—it’s chosen by the one who created the oath.
And if it was my mother, she would never have chosen something like my life or anything equally precious. She hated making everything overly serious or heavy-handed.
“Why are you being so dramatic about everything?”
That was her favorite line.
And whenever someone said things like, “I will atone with my life!” she would burst out laughing.
“This kid is hilarious. What am I supposed to do with a dead life like yours?”
…That was just the kind of person she was.
So probably…
At most, she would have forced Ezekiel Ricard into something utterly outrageous that he would never willingly do. Something embarrassing, perhaps.
For example… attending a noble council meeting in pink debutante-style dress?
Of course, Ezekiel was the type who would rather die than endure such humiliation—but precisely because of that, the conditions were likely designed to be even more absurd.
Something more effective than demanding his life.
I could almost bet on it—maybe not my life, but at least one arm.
…Of course, no matter how smart I was, there was still a gap between being a strangely articulate three-year-old and understanding ancient magical oath restrictions. Even I thought that was a bit much.
So I just smiled brightly and said,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Big words like oath and price are too hard for baby Asha!”
Acting as shamelessly childish as possible, I suddenly realized something.
Being a child can be very convenient depending on how you use it.
“…I see. That does sound like a concept too complex for a child your age.”
See?
Even if it was something that would’ve made Beatrice want to hang herself from the rafters out of shame in her past life, there were no consequences now.
Then Ezekiel, who had seemed to accept it, suddenly stopped.
“…Wait.”
“While that would make sense for a child your age, given your vocabulary, it seems unlikely you wouldn’t understand it.”
“Are you stupid, mister?”
I grinned shamelessly.
“You’re just talking in circles about whatever price you’re paying not having anything to do with me because you don’t want to say it directly. And you think I wouldn’t understand that?”
“…Hoo. Fine. Then stop talking.”
“Who started talking first, though?”
“…Me. It was me.”
He sounded completely exhausted, as if he had given up on everything.
Heh. I win.
With an utterly drained expression, he gave instructions to the attendant standing behind him.
“That’s enough for today. We’re leaving. Let the child rest. We depart tomorrow, so pushing her further would be too much.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
So he finally decided to stop this pointless conversation. How quickly he realized it was useless.
After speaking, Ezekiel glanced at me briefly—but I turned my head away with a loud “Hmph!”
“….”
A faint sigh—barely audible.
Then, finally, his footsteps left the room.
I pressed my chin into Moromoro’s head and watched his departing figure through the open door with a cold gaze.
That’s it?
I hadn’t even returned a tenth of the harsh words he once threw at me.
…Well, not that I particularly wanted revenge.
What I wanted was simply to cut ties completely with that miserable past.
Still, the fact that he can’t tolerate my attitude is a good sign.
What an easy man. At this rate, I could make him abandon me before we even reach the capital!
A surge of motivation rose within me. I nodded firmly.
I’ll become such an unbearable three-year-old that he’ll decide it’s easier to drop me than raise me until adulthood!
Though, honestly speaking, I didn’t even want to go with him in the first place.
But realistically, that wasn’t possible.
The Grand Duke had just died in an attack, and he had been the North’s strongest force.
Not that the others were weak. In fact, everyone here was absurdly strong—but that was exactly why they survived in a land filled with demons and harsh conditions.
Even Marilda Marquis, one of the strongest northern figures after my mother, would be attending as a representative and guardian.
But anything beyond that was impossible.
Removing my mother and Marilda alone already stretched things too far. Anything more would be equivalent to abandoning the northern border the Kalredro Duchy had protected for generations.
Normally, the Imperial Family would have sent an escort unit.
So why did my mother refuse them… and instead summon the reluctant Ezekiel Ricard?
I could already guess.
Let me summarize the situation my mother—Grand Duchess Rosalind Kalredro—created using the Sol-Physis oath and Marilda Marquis:
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She completely blocked the Imperial Family from intervening, even refusing an escort.
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In the meantime, she intends to send me to the Ricard Ducal House as quickly as possible.
I had no confirmation, but I could still infer the reason.
Ezekiel had said it himself—the current Emperor had no heir.
My former fiancé had been the Crown Prince. If the current Emperor had no successor, then it was likely that he had ascended the throne during the time I was “dead.”
That’s right.
There was no need to consider other possibilities.
If the Crown Prince—my former fiancé—had died unexpectedly, then my mother, as first heir, would already have taken the throne or become Empress.
So it happened after all.
It seemed quite a few generations had changed while I had been gone.
