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Translator: uly
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Father's Room
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Rebecca, her eyes wide as she stared down at my snack bundle, asked,
"Sh-shouldn't you eat your snack, my lady?"
"No. When I get hungry, grind up some walnuts and almonds fine, mix them into milk, and bring it to me. Protein shakes are a must to prevent muscle loss."
"Y-yes, ma'am. J-just a moment...."
After waiting a bit for Rebecca to scribble notes furiously, I continued.
"At half past five, make me a simple salad before I head out for my workout. Lettuce, tomatoes, and chicken breast. Boil them and cut into bite-sized pieces. No salt, and absolutely no dressing."
"Yes, my lady!"
Maybe she sensed some new resolve in me. Rebecca's eyes sparkled with excitement, as if it were her own business.
Her enthusiasm was so endearing, like a little sister's, that I gave her a smile before turning serious again.
"And I need to work out, but first...."
Rubette's room was filled with flashy dresses, constricting corsets, and even silk-lace nightgowns. There wasn't a single suitable outfit for exercise.
I couldn't very well run ten laps around the training grounds in a dress.
"Schedule a tailor for this evening."
* * *
After asking Rebecca to summon the tailor, I headed straight to the Duke of Diorus's room.
Father's room, tucked away at the far end of the manor's third floor, was gloominess personified.
A chill hung in the corridor from the start, and the massive, firmly shut door didn't look like it would budge no matter how hard you knocked.
"My lady? What brings you here?"
As expected, old head butler Rob was sitting guard by the door and greeted me.
"What do you think? I've come to see my father."
"...?"
Rubettria Diorus, secretly abused, coming to see the duke? It had never happened before—and it absolutely shouldn't now.
Rob's eyes darted about in a mix of confusion and displeasure before he cautiously lowered his voice.
"The Grand Duchess is away right now. Why not wait until she returns from her rest and see him then?"
The Grand Duchess of this house—MOLGA DIORUS.
She'd strictly blocked any interaction between me and Father, fearing I might say something foolish. Thanks to her, I could barely catch a glimpse of him without going through her.
But by some stroke of luck, just as Rob said, Molga was out of the manor.
In other words, this was one of my rare, precious chances to see Father.
I crossed my arms casually and said,
"That's odd. A daughter can't just visit her father in his own home? And some mere butler telling a duchess's daughter what to do without any manners—it's beyond ridiculous."
"...Pardon? What did you say?"
Rob blinked, doubting his own ears.
"I get that you're old and hard of hearing, but that's your problem. Don't make your lady repeat herself and tire her mouth."
I flashed a sweet smile, patted Rob's shoulder, and added,
"You've got to keep to the basics of being a servant if you want to keep eating on this family's dime, right?"
"My lady? What are you...?"
"Open the door. How many times do I have to say it?"
Only then did Rob start trembling with anger.
It was absurd for a mere servant to get mad like that, but sadly, up until yesterday, it had been par for the course. This insolent attitude from an old butler toward the lady of the house.
'Old raccoon. Not only did he turn a blind eye to Rubette's abuse, he actively kept me from seeing Father or my brothers, standing in for Molga as her watchdog.'
Head butler Rob.
Backed by Molga's trust, he'd silenced the other servants and helped isolate me completely.
"I heard you caused a suicide scene and your mind's a bit off now, but this is worse than I thought. I know you even slapped Young Master Riki."
"..."
"The Grand Duchess will retrain you in proper etiquette when she returns, so until then, stay quietly confined to your room."
Regaining his composure, Rob adjusted his monocle and sneered.
Grand Duchess, etiquette training, confinement.... His word choice was clearly meant to intimidate me.
Molga's verbal abuse, scoldings, and soul-crushing "lessons" were the mental torture sessions Rubette had come to dread pathologically.
"Good thing you know I've lost it a little."
"...?"
Without hesitation, I shoved past Rob and slammed my foot against the door from above.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Wh-what are you doing...!"
The startled Rob flailed to pull me away from kicking the door. I grinned wickedly at the wide-eyed old raccoon sputtering in shock.
"I'll tell Father myself. That his old butler's gone deaf in one ear, so he probably can't keep working for our ducal house anymore."
"Wh-what...?"
Rob paled, staring tensely at the firmly shut door.
Creeeak—.
Soon, the heavy door creaked open slowly, and a chill seeped out.
Through the narrow gap, I glimpsed a man with an utterly阴郁 expression.
"...What is it."
Tall stature, pale skin. Unfocused golden eyes. Dark circles reaching his jawline, and a face devoid of any emotion.
My father, Duke Leonard Diorus.
He looked down at me—the unexpected visitor—with indifferent eyes.
"Father, I came because I have something to tell you."
"...What."
"Y-Your Grace! It's nothing! The lady seems to need something, but I can handle it. Sorry for disturbing your afternoon nap."
"No, Father. I have something to say to you directly, now that I can see your face."
"..."
"Your Grace! No! It's..."
Panicking, Rob's voice rose, and Father—who hated noise—immediately scowled. Rob snapped his mouth shut at Father's darkening expression.
"...Come in."
With a weary look, Father pushed the door open wider.
I gave a little smirk toward the flustered Rob, slipped into the room, and slammed the door right in his face.
'Ugh, I can't see a thing.'
With the sliver of light from the door gone, the room was pitch black.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I heard Father's slow footsteps, and the room brightened slightly. He must have lit the candle on the table by the sofa.
"What is it."
Slumped on the sofa like a waterlogged cotton ball, chin propped up, Father stared at me and asked curtly.
'This is serious....'
I'd known, but seeing him up close was shocking all over again.
At thirty-six, he was a striking beauty with fiery red hair and enigmatic golden eyes just like mine.
If not for the heavy dark circles, the gloomy expression, and the stench of alcohol assaulting my nose, I might have teared up right then, praising his radiant looks upon our first meeting.
But....
Dressed in a shirt with buttons undone, eyes glazed from drink.
'He's a total wreck!'
As the room lit up, I couldn't help but click my tongue at the liquor bottles scattered across the table.
"Ha...."
Instead of answering, I dismissed my impressions of our first meeting with a sigh and headed straight for the curtained window.
Swish—!
Pulling back the heavy blackout curtains let sunlight flood through the wide window.
'Time for some ventilation too.'
I threw open the window with force, and fresh air finally rushed into the stuffy room.
Turning back, I saw Father grimacing, arm raised to shield his eyes like a vampire tormented by sunlight.
"..."
I'd barged in out of nowhere and started acting strangely, so he had every right to be puzzled....
But too lazy to even question it, Father didn't comment. Instead, he rummaged slowly in his shirt pocket.
Out came.... a cigarette case. He took one out, put it in his mouth, and lit it.
'Wow, smoking in front of his underage daughter? Normal dad behavior?'
I was too dumbfounded to speak.
It was daunting where to even start criticizing, but knowing why Father had become like this, I couldn't just lash out.
'Grieving his late wife, drowning in booze and smokes until he dies at 39.'
He was 36 now.
'Liver or lungs, I don't know which killed him, but time's running out. Cut the booze and smokes first.'
As Father puffed away until his cheeks hollowed, I said,
"Put out the cigarette."
"What?"
Was making people repeat themselves a family trait here?
I pinched my nose and mouth shut, let my displeasure show plainly, and repeated,
"Put out the cigarette. Can't you see your daughter's right here? You want me to breathe all this toxic secondhand smoke?"
Only then did a flicker of light enter Father's unfocused eyes.
Blinking his slightly widened eyes, he looked back and forth between my annoyed face and the cigarette in his hand.
With a hint of confusion, Father finally stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table.