TLDH~04

Chapter 4

Eight years old—Chandler.
Seven years old—Jason.
Six years old—Liliana.

All of them were my father’s half-siblings’ children.

Chandler was the second son of my second uncle, Jason was the third son of my third uncle, and Liliana was Aunt Michelle’s youngest daughter.

They were all taking lessons together as part of the direct line’s education.

Except me.

Of course, until Grandfather placed me under house arrest, I used to attend those same lessons too.

But after he was summoned by the Emperor and left for his fief, Sylvia and the family tutors began quietly excluding me from the classes.

“Lady Leticia doesn’t seem capable of keeping up with the direct line heirs’ lessons.”
“Wouldn’t private tutoring be more suitable for her?”

They said it with such plausible excuses.

Even my second aunt, who managed the household, comforted me that way.

“Being slow isn’t something to be ashamed of, dear. You just have to study hard on your own. Our Resha is kind and smart—she’ll understand everything soon enough, right? Auntie is always on your side.”

Remembering her warm, affectionate voice visiting me all the way out to the detached house, I twisted my lips bitterly.

Back then, I thought every word she said was true.

Like a fool.

When Grandfather died and I begged her through tears not to throw me out, she looked at me—not coldly, but with disgust.

A look that said I was filthy.

No one. I can’t trust anyone.

Here, I had to survive on my own.

Only then could I save Father—and myself.

My fingers trembled with rage as I clenched them into a fist. Behind me, I heard the tutors’ mocking whispers.

“Looks like she’s nervous.”
“She should’ve said she couldn’t handle it.”
“If she falls out of favor with the lord this time, that’s the end of her. Probably being stubborn out of pride.”
“Tch tch, doesn’t even know that’s just childish defiance.”
“I doubt she even knows what the word ‘defiance’ means.”
“Of course she doesn’t.”

They snickered behind their hands.

I slowly turned my head toward them.

Illys, Imperial language tutor. Paul, mathematics tutor.

And the one who stayed silent—the true instigator of all this—Sylvia, the etiquette instructor.

Meeting their eyes one by one, Illys and Paul quickly shut their mouths, folding their hands in front of them, pretending they hadn’t said a word.

I’ll remember all of you.

What for, you ask?

To pay them back, of course.

I’d been far too naïve in my previous life. This time, I wasn’t going to just sit there and take it.

I would return every ounce of what I received—no matter who it was.

“They’ve arrived, sir.”

As the servant announced this, the door opened and Chandler and Jason entered, both wearing sulky faces—then froze.

Inside the room weren’t just Grandfather and the tutors. His adjutant and several retainers also filled the space.

Chandler clenched his jaw so hard I could see it from here, glaring at me like he wanted to hit me.

If no one were watching, he probably would have.

You haven’t changed, have you?

When I turned away from his murderous stare, Bennett, Grandfather’s aide, spoke to Mago.

“Lady Liliana could not attend as she is currently at the Count’s estate.”
“That can’t be helped.”

“I should’ve gone to Portlen too,” Jason muttered under his breath.

Chandler, on the other hand, lifted his head.

“Grandfather, you’re here?”

He smiled sweetly—completely different from how he’d just glared at me.

Impressive.

Now I understood why, in my past life, Chandler was the only one of the third-generation heirs who wasn’t cast out even after being expelled from the Order and returning home less than a year later.

With such charm, Grandfather must have found it hard to stay angry.

But—

“Alright. Let’s begin.”

Mago cut off his grandson’s affectionate greeting like slicing through air.

Chandler’s smile froze on his face.

Clever or not, he was still a child—his expression gave everything away.

As he stiffly stared at Grandfather, I felt his glare flick toward me again.

His face red, jaw clenched, eyes burning with fury.

You’re dead.

He mouthed the words silently.

I smiled sweetly and lifted my middle finger ever so slightly, subtle enough that no one else noticed.

Chandler’s eyes went wide as saucers.

“You—!”
“Hmm? Me, brother?”

Batting my lashes innocently, I saw everyone’s attention snap to us—including Grandfather’s.

Under all those stares, Chandler’s face turned crimson as he quickly bowed his head.

“We’ll see later.”

No one who says “we’ll see later” ever means it kindly.

“Okay!”

I grinned brightly, as if I couldn’t care less, and turned away.

In the past, that would’ve been a big problem. But now?

Who cared.

If he comes after me, I’ll just run. And if I can’t run…

Well, then I’ll take the hit.

Maybe getting punched would even be better, I thought wryly, when I noticed Sylvia glaring at me with those slitted eyes.

Her expression quickly smoothed into a polite smile as she raised her wand.

Floating letters appeared over her palm—exam questions.

“Let’s begin with Imperial Language. Chandler, please start.”

Of course. Chandler went first.

He was a direct heir, after all.

All I remembered of him from before was the brat who bullied me as a child and later turned into a womanizing, gambling drunkard.

Yet watching him now, fluently reading the Imperial script aloud—

So he really did study when he was young.

Then what happened to him later?

I clicked my tongue softly.

Behind him, the tutors murmured their praise.

“As expected of a direct heir.”
“Almost as skilled as the eldest son, Lord Aleph.”
“He missed a few words, but that’s impressive for his age.”

Chandler straightened his back proudly, sneaking a glance at Grandfather, fishing for approval.

But Mago, who had a genius son—and had been one himself—showed no reaction at all.

Of course.

To him, this was ordinary. Mediocre.

But Sylvia, missing that nuance, clapped delightedly.

“Well done, young master. That was excellent.”
“Thank you, teacher.”

Chandler preened, his chubby chin lifting smugly.

Sylvia looked pleased—until her gaze met mine. She stiffened for an instant before forcing another smile.

“Now, Young Master Jason.”

Since Chandler had upheld the “dignity of the direct line,” Jason would have to follow suit.

He looked terrified. Still, he nodded and raised the magical device to project his question.

“Let’s do an arithmetic problem.”

In the Esior family—whose wealth came from banking and trade—children learned numbers and equations practically from the moment they could walk.

So I expected something difficult.

It was 3 plus.

“…”

Huh. That was pathetically simple.

“Uh, um.”

The problem was, Jason couldn’t even manage that.

Clearly, Sylvia thought it would be an easy question—but for Jason, even basic addition was a struggle.

He sneaked glances at Grandfather, then ducked his head and began fidgeting with his ten fingers, trying to count.

From the back came murmurs.

“Young Master Jason…”
“Unbelievable.”

Flustered, Sylvia leaned forward.

“Ahem, take your time, young master.”

Then she subtly held up one finger on her left hand and three on her right, showing him the answer before quickly closing her hands.

Jason’s eyes lit up.

“Three-one! Thirty-one!”

“Ah.”
“Oh dear.”

Soft sighs rippled through the room.

Sylvia darted a nervous glance at Mago—then caught sight of me watching her.

Panic flickered in her eyes as she abruptly turned to me.

“Lady Leticia, why don’t you try this one?”

So that was her plan—to cover Jason’s failure by putting me on the spot.

Fine by me.

“Thirteen.”

“Oh my.”

Gasps rose around the room.

Everyone had clearly assumed I wouldn’t get it right—because in their eyes, I was an idiot.

Of course they were surprised.

But unlike them, Sylvia knew she hadn’t given me the answer—so she immediately suspected I’d somehow cheated.

“Then let’s try another one, shall we?”

Determined to drag me down, she conjured a new problem.

Plus two.

Oh please.

“Eleven.”

“Very good.”

Too easy.

Addition, subtraction, multiplication, division—even calculus, I could do it all.

After all, I’d studied hard in my previous life, back when I was Korean.

Ever heard of S University?

As an orphan, studying was the only way I knew to survive.

And this? Simple addition? Pathetic.

I looked up at Sylvia, unimpressed.

But she was the one flustered now.

Unable to believe it, she conjured yet another question.

“Alright, next problem.”

Times three.

Multiplication now, huh? For a six-year-old, that was rather petty.

Still, I had my reasons too.

“Thirty.”

“Goodness!”

Once again, gasps of admiration. Sylvia’s eyes blazed.

She looked around the room, suspecting someone must be feeding me the answers—but found no one.

Her lips tightened, fingers trembling around her magic tool.

“V-very well done.”
“Thank you!”

But my test wasn’t over yet.

“Now then, Lady Leticia, shall we try reading Ancient Tongue?”

Sylvia, clearly thinking now she’ll fail, projected a page of squiggling archaic letters, smug satisfaction all over her face.

And with matching pride, I read them aloud, clear and confident:

“Hokke kuekke transivit!”