The tutor sent by the Empress Dowager was said to be a talented person who provided excellent teaching matching her outstanding skills. They said she guided difficult and boring subjects like mathematics, logic, history and geography in an easily understandable way. 

 Moreover, they said she had earned even more favor from noble ladies by taking charge of etiquette lessons for noble young ladies preparing for their debuts. 

 However, the woman was from Gishu. The Empress Dowager’s view was her view, and the prejudices of the Albrov family she belonged to were her prejudices. Khalil pressed his lips to the crown of his daughter’s head who was sobbing even harder in his arms. 

 She was a daughter who could pull out her heart without a single frown if he asked. Khalil’s feelings for the child were more complex than his feelings for his wife. Love and longing. Guilt and self-loathing. Helplessness and defeat from having to prioritize her mother. 

 If he could, he wanted to run away with Jeanne. No matter how Elaine protested. No matter how much the Empress Dowager opposed. The public’s gaze meant nothing. He wanted to live peacefully even for a moment, even if they lived as poor farmers. 

 How nice it would be if he could place his wife and daughter across from each other at a square table made of pine wood, put his chair where he could look at them alternately, and eat plain barley porridge. He didn’t want to weigh his wife and daughter against each other. 

 He loved his daughter as much as he loved his wife. However, he…… 

 “Is there reason to strike my child?”

“Your Grace.” 

 “Do not lay a hand on Jeanne.” 

 “But this is part of her education. As she prepares to enter the palace……” 

 “Even so, I would prefer there be no hitting of my daughter in my house.” 

 Khalil murmured coldly. The woman’s face turned pale. His gaze was as sharp as a blade and ice-blue. Yet she did not lower her eyes as she moved her lips. 

 “I understand your distress. However, my duty is to train the young lady to be a perfect lady until she enters the palace. Your Grace, how much……” 

 “If my daughter is so inadequate, we can break off this engagement right now.” 

 “Your Grace.” 

 “Tell the Empress Dowager. If my daughter doesn’t meet her standards, she can call it off now.” 

 Madam Solis clenched her fists. It took considerable effort not to contort her expression. She racked her brain trying to think of something to say. But her mind froze at the man’s icy warning. Steadying her pounding pulse, she thought of the House of Albrov. She didn’t want to appear cowed before Count Spetunia of all people. She bit her lip and composed her expression. 

 “……I apologize.” 

 She bowed her head and begged forgiveness. The Count did not respond. He turned around with his daughter in his arms. 

 “It must have hurt a lot.” 

 The small child’s hand was swollen red as if burned. The knuckles were so swollen white that it seemed to require a physician’s examination, showing how hard she had been struck. He tried not to let his face contort in front of the child. He feared she would become frightened and cry again. 

 “Did the Madam hit you yesterday too?” 

 Jeanne raised her eyes. Her gentle father’s face was strangely grim. Jeanne’s lips trembled before she lowered her head. 

 She pressed her lips shut, swallowing the words that threatened to spill out. Yesterday she had only been hit on the calves a few times. Fortunately, her nanny maid Lana had applied medicine. 

 ‘Don’t tell father or mother. Understand?’ 

 ‘Miss.’ 

 ‘They’ll be upset.’ 

 ‘But still……” 

 ‘When I get better at it, when I get better at it, then I’ll tell them. They might be disappointed because I did poorly.’ 

 Jeanne fidgeted with her fingers, holding back her tears. Monica shook her head. 

 ‘The Count will be heartbroken to know you were hurt like this, Miss.’ 

 Monica whispered as she brushed away the hair scattered across Jeanne’s forehead with her long fingers. But Jeanne shook her head. 

 This wasn’t just any injury but wounds from being struck by Madam Solis for failing to understand her lessons. How disappointed would Father be? She had wanted to be a better daughter than Antonia…… Jeanne sniffled again. Monica lifted Jeanne from the bed and held her tight. 

 “……No.” 

 “Jeanne.” 

 Father called her name in a stern voice. The heat of unshed tears tickled her nose. Her father, who had been applying ointment to her palm, suddenly lifted her up. Jeanne flew through the air and landed back in her father’s arms. He sat her on his thigh and wiped her tear-filled eyes. 

 “You know what? Father’s ears are on the walls too.” 

 It was an unbelievable statement. But if Father said so, she had to believe it. Jeanne looked up at the man who was admonishing her in an unwavering, firm voice. 

 His fresh face was as handsome as a sculpture. Jeanne stared at the man who was as young and beautiful as her mother. His exposed forehead with slightly scattered golden hair seemed to shine strand by strand. 

 Jeanne read the gloom in his sharp blue eyes. She didn’t want to make Father sad. ‘Our Dad’ — not ‘Dad’ to Antonia and her twin brother Patrick. Like her mother’s warning not to love him, she wanted to draw a line and push him away, but Father was too affectionate. 

 He hugged her every day and kissed her cheeks and forehead. 

 After the formal dinner with the Emperor, he made time every evening to personally teach her how to use knives and forks. 

 Jeanne loved those times. Unlike Madam Solis, Father was never strict and never got angry. 

 As Madam Solis said, there wasn’t much time left until she entered the palace. Though one might be anxious when Jeanne kept making mistakes, he only smiled at his young daughter’s continued errors. 

 “So you mustn’t lie, little one.” 

 Khalil said as he gently touched Jeanne’s legs. Muddy pink eyes stared at him. Her dark brown hair flowing beneath the white bonnet was lovely. 

 He adjusted his hold on his daughter who was like a peach ripened in the summer sun. The ribbon tied under her chin was slightly damp with tears. His heart ached. In her cream-colored chemise dress and bonnet adorned with tiny summer flowers, his daughter looked as pretty as a baby angel rolling in clouds. 

 ‘She’s so small……” 

 How could anyone lay hands on such a small, young child? His mouth suddenly felt bitter. He wished he could do anything to delay Jeanne’s entry to the palace. 

 His daughter was still young, and in his eyes, she was like a baby just learning to walk. His chest ached watching her taking etiquette lessons with thick books balanced on her head. It hurt his heart just watching her toddle around, and to take such a child and…… 

 “……It’s all better now.” 

 Jeanne carefully spoke as she looked down at the floor with teary eyes. He lifted the hem of her dress slightly to look at her white calves covered in scabs. 

 “……Dad.” 

 His bloodless face was frightening. Jeanne unconsciously whimpered. Sometimes ‘Father’ became ‘Dad’ on Jeanne’s lips. 

 No matter how much her mother insisted, in her heart she always called him Dad. When she was relaxed or scared like now, Jeanne called him Dad instead of Father. 

 “My daughter must have……” 

 He tried to say something to his daughter who could barely hold back her tears as she fidgeted with her fingers. But seeing the wounds on her legs, all thoughts fled his mind. 

 The outside of the wounds was mottled with bruises from how hard she had been struck. Where the cane had landed, the flesh showed red in a horrifying way. 

 She was only eight years old. A child who had lived apart from her father since she was two. He had been pleased just to see her hold a spoon correctly. He had thought that since she was clever and intelligent, she could learn anything quickly. And yet…… 

 “You don’t have to attend lessons anymore.” 

 His hardened voice was terribly stiff. He had always thought he should smile in front of his daughter, but today he couldn’t manage it. He hugged his crying daughter and kissed her forehead. 

 She was precious enough to place in his eye without pain. Apart from being the Emperor’s fiancée, his daughter was more precious to him than the stars in the sky. To do this to such a daughter…… 

 ‘That b*tch……” 

 His lips twisted harshly. He bit his lip to keep from cursing in front of the child. The child, as light and small as if made of cotton, wrapped her arms around his neck. 

 * * *

 As the Emperor’s godfather and teacher, Khalil taught him swordsmanship twice a week. When he was younger, he had also taught him horseback riding, but after the death of his father Clodas, Khalil began to distance himself from the young emperor. 

 Emperor Cesare, perhaps sensing how Khalil had gradually distanced himself after his father Emperor’s death, no longer followed him as before, but to him Khalil was still his godfather, his father emperor’s close friend, and his fiancée’s birth father. It was noon. He received a letter delivered to him. It was from Count Spetunia. 

 “It seems something has happened to his daughter. So today’s lesson will be conducted through Sir Padre……” 

 Cesare, who had been tilting his head oddly, raised his eyes to the chamberlain who delivered the letter. The chamberlain waiting with his hands behind his back broke into a cold sweat. Cesare stared at the House of Spetunia’s seal.