A Desirable Attitude to Live as an Heiress of a Chaebol Family

Episode 13: You Came Like A Dream (XIII)

The Count reflexively clasped the arms of the chair. He realized too late that the woman across from him exuded an overwhelming desire to tear him to pieces.

“Shut up.”

“Miss Duncan!”

“Stop that filthy tongue of yours and shut up before I cut it to bits.”

The muttering came from between her clenched teeth. The woman massaged her face repeatedly, and when she lifted her head, her red eyes were flooded with revulsion.

“Say it again. A poor illegitimate child? So you think she’s worthless?”

“……”

“How dare you call yourself a parent while treating the child like that? And now you’re claiming to protect her?”

“Miss Duncan.”

I said it wrong. The Count shook his head vigorously, attempting to rectify the situation, but regardless of his intention, the woman began to ridicule him fiercely.

“Barking again. Never in my life have I even heard a cat bark, much less a human being.”

“……”

“Bark more. Don’t you want that child back?”

“Return the child—”

“You’re really going to continue barking? I thought you were only lacking a conscience, but now I see that your intelligence is equally non-existent.”

A fit of laughter erupted from Aicila, and she shook her head amusedly.

“Miss Duncan, your attitude has been very disrespectful till now.”

“Who’s the one being petty now, Count? Can you really describe taking a child from sc*ms who treat her like that as kidnapping? If it were you, you’d send her back, right? Just because you have no morals yourself doesn’t give anyone else a pass to be treated the same way, does it?”

“……”

“The more I think about it, the more I realize how crazy you actually are.”

As the insult entered his ears, the Count leapt out from his chair, and Aicila, following suit, came to her feet with little urgency.

“I won’t say much, Miss Duncan.”

“Right, I won’t say much, either.”

“Miss Duncan, the child—”

“Us, ‘Duncans’, will never send that child back.”

Her speech seemed to emphasize the word Duncan. Ignoring the Count’s paling countenance, Aicila poked his chest with her finger.

“Open your eyes, Count. This is a turning point in your life that will haunt you forever.”

A curse flowed out in anger.

“I now swear in the name of ‘Aicila Duncan’,”

The curse was like a raging river, condemning their family to ruin with such strong vengeance.

The Count stumbled backwards, unable to endure the disdainful jabs to his chest.

“Your heartless neglect, your wife’s violence, your son’s petulance, all that the child has suffered will be repaid back to you tenfold.”

The child you ignored will regain her preciousness and bloom brightly,

“If the child says no, I’ll come and get you, so Count.”

You’re going to be ruined in the meantime.

Aicila Duncan flashed a horrifically beautiful grin. Lightly and cheerfully, like a psychopath wielding an axe for the last time. As gentle and graceful as a reaper taking her victim.

“I hope you’ll wait.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Aicila stood tall by the window on the 2nd floor and looked down.

The Count dazedly got into the carriage, quickly disappearing. That pathetic and unsightly appearance was so disgusting that her lips twisted on their own.

I want to grab him by the collar and shake it hard. As she glanced away with regret, she saw Ronell running towards her.

“Sister Aicila.”

“Ash.”

“…Yes?”

“Sister Ash.”

Aicila affectionately corrected Ronell, encouraging her to call her by her pet name. Ronell’s head cocked, and she paused for a while before she carefully rephrased her statement.

“Sister Ash.”

“Mhm.”

“Did it go well with the Count?”

I felt so sick in my stomach. After giving this a lot of thought, I became so incensed that I wanted to lose all sense of propriety, but alas, we live in an age of civilization.

Ronell’s gloomy eyes interrupted her train of thought. Aicila perked up an eyebrow at the child’s muttering.

“H-how did it go? Actually, I should have met with the Count. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. All I did was curse at him a little.”

She briefly recounted their conversation and lifted Ronell. Though Ronell still shivered, because she had not quite gotten used to the concept that she was safe yet, she was warming around to it.

“Am I that unreliable?”

“No… It’s just that I have to do what I can.”

Her poor confidence doesn’t stop her from being as forthright as she can be. Aicila laughed and flung a joke out.

“Then do you want revenge?”

“…Yes?”

“Nothing, I’m just kidding.”

Aicila ruffled her golden hair with a gentle touch.

Revenge is too ugly for Baby to carry out.

“I-I’ll do my best…”

“It’s okay. Forget it.”

“Yess?”

A child is a child.

Being able to settle down in a beautiful world is a privilege only for children.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

While holding his teacup in one hand, Reinhardt gazed out the window. The study’s window looked out over a landscape ablaze with autumnal color.

A very large garden, which belonged to the House of Duncan, was dotted with various trees such as conifers, ash trees, poplar trees, and willow trees.

Ronell skipped joyfully over the majestic route carpeted with autumn leaves. A white cat was running alongside her, waving its tail, and behind the two, Aicila was strolling briskly, enjoying her leisurely walk.

A beauty, a girl, and a cat. They were complimented by the warm scenery of fall. It would be a waste not to paint them into a landscape. The season’s serene splendor was ringed by a whirlwind of harmony.

After taking in the vibrant hues, Reinhardt looked aside.

One man was relishing in the warm rays of the sun as he read. He relaxed into the rocking chair, oblivious to the light reflecting off of his clavicle. The long string attached to the spectacles scattered light in all directions.

“Ter.”

The black-haired man frowned. The itch was exacerbated by the return of a long-forgotten nickname. His fingers wandered around aimlessly as they rubbed against the pages.

“Since when have you called me by my pet name?”

Teriot was at a loss for words, so he just replied to him flatly. His son’s frankness towards his old man sent Reinhardt into an empty laughter.

Everyone in Duncan Mansion would agree that Ruby’s rotten character traits originated from Aicila. However, they were missing a crucial fact.

“Mmm, when you were young? How many decades has it been?”

Reinhardt smirked and looked at his son.

Aicila’s personality resembled that of Teriot’s. Reinhardt had to spend decades living under the tyrannical rule of the Teriot–Aicila–Ruby lineage.

Oh my life.

He comforted himself with a sad smile on his face.

If only his late wife were still alive,

‘Teriot inherited that temper from you, you dummy!’

Teriot conveniently avoided the question. He bottled up his annoyance—You’re so proud of yourself!—and asked.

“How was it?”

“That child is a Duncan.”

“Right, I suppose so. Both me and Aicila felt the same way, so she must be a Duncan.”

He replied apathetically and continued to leaf through the pages.

“Son.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Let’s do a blood test.”

Teriot immediately frowned, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Reinhardt calmly reached out to his son.

“Give me your hair.”

Teriot first grumbled when asked to pluck out a lock of hair, but eventually complied silently.

“She’s not my daughter.”

Reinhardt did not respond at all. He stood still, his eyes shifting from outside to the child who may be his granddaughter.

Knowing she would never have to return to the terrible House of the Count again, the child glowed with a radiant liveliness. The girl’s feathery toes landed on the ground. It appeared as though she was flying rather than sprinting.

She was pretty and lovely. Adorable, innocent, naive, and flawless. As if a pure white brilliance dwelled in the child.

Reinhardt slowly looked back at his son. He may be unemployed and a slob, but he can still put his brain to good use.

“Let’s talk about the details when I get back from this business trip.”

“If you say so.”

“Do you know where I’ll be going?”

“To the Magic Tower.”

“Do you know where that is?”

In response to that question, Teriot’s preconceived notion that water is water, mountains are mountains, and seas are seas was broken. His glazed over eyes went for Reinhardt’s, and the latter nodded slowly.

“It is now in the Fernburg Kingdom.”

Immediately, Teriot silently uttered a curse. Reading the movements of his lips accurately, Reinhardt sighed heavily. He was about to say something about Aicila’s mother, but abandoned the idea.

“I’ll have to get our little girl’s hair, too.”

As casually as he attempted to shift the conversation, his damn son shot back an immediate and direct response.

“Don’t pluck the cat’s hair.”

“I’d never make that mistake.”

“They’re both pale.”

One is white and the other is blonde.

It was an unusual color for the House of Duncan, which was solely filled with black-haired descendants. Reinhardt looked at him and asked.

“Shall we try Ruby’s?”

While Teriot ignored the maddening question, Reinhardt chuckled and tucked Teriot’s hair into an envelope.

When he saw his son slowly roll his green pupils, Reinhardt was lost in thought.

Green. Ronell and Teriot both have green eyes, however their shades are somewhat distinct from one another. If she’s not Teriot’s daughter.

She was clearly not Aicila’s daughter, yet she also wasn’t his.

…Whose daughter is she?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

That child, Ronell, I can’t believe I let her slip through my fingers. As hopelessness gripped him, his hands shook.

He didn’t know how he managed to conjure up the energy to get into the carriage. He had stumbled out of the Duncan Mansion and found himself getting onto the carriage. The Count sat down in his seat and gave an order.

“To the manor.”

Nodding briefly, the coachman closed the door. Slap, after the sound of a whip, the horses took off running. Sounds of the horses’ hooves striking the ground reverberated strongly.

The Count slowly leaned his head back and pounded it hard with his hands.

“Crazy.”

Once again, bam.

“It’s crazy.”

Three blows to the head later, he raised his hands to his face, covering his eyes. He was taunting his past self, regretting that he had brought the child, Ronell.

10 years old. I hoped to keep that rat alive until she turned 10. I can’t believe I lost her to a Duncan after all this time. Those short years were already hard.

What now…

The Count closed his eyes and hid them with his hands for so long that he failed to see when the carriage door opened and someone slipped inside.

Crazy, it’s crazy. He continued to babble like that over and over.

The one who took pleasure from witnessing the Count in distress could not hold back her laughter. Bending her eyes, she smirked slightly.

“What made you crazy, Count?”

It was a soft voice.

A very gentle voice reminiscent of all four seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter. The Count hurriedly opened his eyes, feeling a chill rising up his spine.

He saw a hooded figure sitting directly opposite from him.

“Ah… ah…”

After the Count’s stammering, the mysterious person in front of him burst out laughing once again.

The cool and refreshing laughter echoed throughout the carriage. The Count’s eyes went round with the vivid fear brought about by the clear sound.

Despite that, she slowly moved her white hands and removed the hood.