Author: Tam Editor: Tam

Episode 7. Chapter 2. The Little Kid and The Little Kid. (5)


Adrienne de Cassinel Bluea knew so little that it was difficult to believe she was six years old and the same age as Cyril. In reality, Cyril was just overly knowledgeable, but with only one comparator, Adrienne, it was natural to think that way.


“I feel sorry for the Witch.”


“What do you feel sorry for?”


“Still, the Witch thought the Princess was her daughter.”


The witch pretended to be the mother of the kidnapped subject after falling in love with the Princess’s loveliness. Cyril assumed it was all a plot to fool the princess.


It’s no surprise Cyril’s real mother wasn’t very friendly. The Duke and Duchess of Thesar were both like that.


So, in Cyril’s eyes, the witch’s behavior, who stayed by the Princess’s side all day and couldn’t give her anything more, seemed suspicious.


“I feel bad for the witch…. She’s dead—”


Adrienne, who grew up in the friendly Cassinel, had a different situation. The blue eyes drooped, as if depressed.


He hates the mean Adrienne, but he hates the depressed Adrienne even more because she is new to him. It was better to smile brightly even if it was a little silly.


“—She’s not dead.”




“She pretended she was dead. So that the Princess can return to her people.” So Cyril added a word. Adrienne was overjoyed despite the fact that it was a complete lie. ‘I knew it,’ Cyril snorted inwardly.


It’s as simple as that.


“That’s all for today. Now go.”


“Okay, I’ll tell my dad.”


What would Count Cassinel think of this story? First and foremost, it was doubtful that Adrienne would tell the story exactly as she had heard it. “Has your mother not come yet?”




“The Countess. I heard she went on a trip.”


Adrienne, who was about to leave the room, blinked as she always did. It took a long time to think about the question he asked without much thought. Adrienne continued her walk instead of responding. She even tried to climb into bed.


Adrienne spoke in whispers to Cyril, who looked at her as if she were doing something.


“She isn’t here yet.”


“When will she come?”


“I’m not sure either.”


His voice was also low because she was uselessly whispering. Adrienne was a strange kid, as he remembered from his time at Cassinel. Cyril shook his head and asked.


“When did she go on a trip?”


“Six years ago?”


“Six years ago? It’s not a trip—”


Cyril, who had unintentionally spit out his heart, paused.


‘She went on a trip six years ago, and she hasn’t returned yet, and she has no idea when she will.’


Cyril only found out later that Countess Cassinel died the year she was born. Count Cassinel must not have told Adrienne the truth. Cyril understood the Count’s decision. Adrienne is so naive and stupid that she would prefer not to know about her mother’s death.


She’ll find out someday though.


“…Okay, but why are you speaking so quietly?”


“Because it’s a secret.”


“Secret? Okay, keep it a secret.”


When he told his young daughter that it was a secret, he seemed very worried. He must have been afraid that someone would point out the truth to her. Cyril nodded, unaware that he, too, was young.


“You can’t tell my dad.”




“My mom’s not coming.”


However, the words that followed were completely different from Cyril’s. Adrienne had a serious expression on her face as she looked at Cyril. Her voice was still small and leaky, but her expression was serious. One possibility was suggested by the expression on her face.


The possibility that Adrienne was already aware of her father’s lies.


“You— Do you have any idea where your mother is?”


But— This stupid girl? 


Cyril asked, cautiously but suspiciously. “Yes, but you can’t tell my dad. You must say that I don’t know.” Adrienne, who had approached a little closer, had whispered.


‘Otherwise, my dad will be sad.’




Adrienne even held out his fingers with a determined expression. Cyril couldn’t think of anything to say, so he stared at it and walked slowly across her fingers.


“That’s enough. You have to keep your promise.”




Adrienne smiled and got out of bed. She didn’t look back this time. Cyril, who had been left alone, pondered when the warmth on his fingers vanished.


Maybe Adrienne isn’t that stupid.




However, Cyril completely dismissed the possibility that he had raised in the past, which is that Adrienne was not stupid.


“This is Mignon. This is Rose. What is this?” (t/n : Mignon = small and pretty.) 


“What do you know?”


Adrienne was definitely a fool.


Otherwise, there was no way to explain why the honorable noble, who was about to turn seven, was playing with dolls.


“Look, this is Mignon because it’s pretty, and this is Rose because her hair is pink. But her hair is brown. Then what is it?”


It’s natural to name it once. Cyril’s brilliant mind exclaimed, ‘Marron,’ but he despised his ego as a precocious aristocrat. (t/n : Marron is brown in French.) 


“So you don’t know.”




“That’s all right. I’ll let you know. Brown is—”


“Marron, it’s marron. I know.”


However, the aristocratic ego could not stand being ignored. Finally, Cyril’s face, which gave the correct answer, was distorted with agony.


“Would you like to say hello to Marron?”


“I don’t want it.”


“Do you dislike Marron?”


“Yeah, so please go out and play.”


“But this child doesn’t like you either.”


What exactly do you want me to do—


Marron was a doll with brown hair and pigtails. What’s the difference if the doll hates him? It was better not to like it. Despite thinking so, Cyril glared at the doll once.


“Will you read to me later, Cyril?”


“I’ll see it”


“So you’ll read it.”


Adrienne, who responded calmly, continued playing with the doll. He didn’t understand why she had to play dolls on his bed, which she could do anywhere. Adrienne, who believes she should play on Cyril’s bed, is also absurd, but when he thinks about it, Cyril himself, who tolerates it, is also strange.


In the end, even though he was angry, it was Cyril who left it alone. Cyril, who was concerned about the strangely disturbing fact, quickly discovered the answer.


‘…because this child is a little short of..’


I’m more mature, so I’ll have to put up with it.


Thinking that made him feel better. Despite the fact that they are the same age, Cyril decided he didn’t care how young Adrienne played.


“…what are you doing?”


However, the firm resolve was broken in less than a minute. Adrienne’s doll play drew Cyril’s attention away from the book.


Is that doll play?


It was a model sword held by two dolls dressed in lovely gowns. Adrienne was striking the sword, brilliantly moving her doll’s wooden arms.






It was the moment when the small parasols and the dainty table next to the doll were overshadowed.


At a loss for words, Cyril stared at it, and Adrienne replied briefly.


“It’s a disguise.”


“Where did you learn to say that?”


A child who does not know what she needs to know is familiar with the difficult words about battle and disguise. Adrienne set aside some space between the two dolls and said when Cyril asked.


“That’s exactly what Mouette did. You must disguise yourself in order to avoid being discovered.”


Mouette was one of the knights guarding Cassinel. It’s not surprising that he teaches tactics, but when the target is Adrienne, it’s a different story.


“Are you, by any chance, the heir?”




“I asked if you would be the Count?”


“That’s my dad.”


What kind of heir is a child who doesn’t understand— Let’s just stop talking now. Cyril shook his head and returned to the book. How long has it been this way?


“Adrienne— how are you going to live?”




Cyril couldn’t help but feel suffocated and asked earnestly. Cyril’s parents would have been surprised if they had witnessed it. Despite the fact that he was sick and unable to attend formal successor classes, Cyril did not neglect his studies while lying in bed.


Of course, Adrienne will not be the successor, but it should not be for Cassinel’s sake— but wouldn’t it be appropriate to say something about their feelings of being together?


In his own way, Cyril was concerned.


“If you keep playing like that all the time, you won’t be able to marry when you grow up.”




“The act of combining families.”




Adrienne nodded her head repeatedly. She seemed to be unable to understand what was being said to her.


“If you grow old according to your family’s level… No, when you become an adult, you’ll have to live with some kind of man, right?”


“I live with my dad.”


“Not the Count. Another man.”




“—I’m a man, too.”


Cyril, who had been unknowingly optimistic, was taken aback. Cyril was able to endure almost yelling, ‘Why would I marry you!’


“You’ll meet a man from another family when you’re older. To do so, you must be smart.”




Adrienne raised her voice, as if she realized what was going on. When Cyril is reassured that the story will eventually work out, “It’s all right. Because I’m pretty.”


An absurd response has returned. Adrienne added, as if to confirm, while Cyril questioned the function of his ears. She said it’s fine because she’s pretty.


“Who, who the hell says that?”


“Everyone said I was pretty.”


“But who says it?”


“Emma did, Lena did, Mila did, Dad did, and—”


“Stop. I’ve got it.” Before everyone’s name was called, Cyril raised his hand.


‘How could you say such nonsense even as a child—?’


Adrienne, despite her appearance, was a noblewoman with many virtues that a noblewoman should have.


What a hopeful thought to be in such a position to be criticized by the Viscountess Parte right now!


Cyril was deeply concerned, ignoring the fact that she had grown up in this way. 


Table of Contents
Reader Settings
Font Size
Line Height

Ko-fi Ko-fi

Comments (0)