Black-Haired Dad Isn’t Something You Reap - Chapter 227

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 227. Let Us Take a Moment to Contemplate Why This Work Exists in the Romance Fantasy Category (7)
Nanakda had just said the same thing to me. When I laughed it off with a casual “ha ha,” Croa frowned and tried to wrap my body up tightly in his coat.
“It’s freezing out there! You’ll catch a cold dressing like that!”
The people who had been indifferent to talk of exposure suddenly began interjecting once the word “cold” came up, suggesting I wear even more luxurious fur. Nanakda, finding this amusing, poked Croa’s ribs repeatedly in genuine admiration.
“I’ll say, you’ve lived here long enough that you really are different, aren’t you?”
“Speaking honestly doesn’t resonate with these people. You have to approach them based on their interests.”
Sometimes I couldn’t tell if you two were close or at odds with each other.
“What if we changed our approach? Lately, the mysterious type who dresses modestly and keeps everything buttoned up is becoming fashionable too.”
Was the villainess aesthetic actually a trend? When I asked Emily, who was enthusiastically explaining about ball gowns, she brought up my Maternal Grandmother as a good example.
“When Yuprina was still appearing to be my age, she was exactly that type.”
“Ah, I completely understand now.”
“That Chamberlain in mourning clothes was definitely terrifying.”
“Father, are there things in this world that scare you?”
“Many things.”
Apparently there really were many, because Father spread his fingers wide and listed them one by one. Chiron’s hoof kicks were scary, Yupi Grandmother’s intimidating presence was scary, Choco’s genuine charges were fairly scary, the Chief Chamberlain when angry was scary—as he enumerated various frightening things, Father’s expression twisted as he mentioned the most chilling of all.
“When those Kisomalos people whine and complain, that’s the most dreadful.”
“That’s annoying, not scary!”
Yet there seemed to be some agreement with this, because everyone nodded and said they felt genuine terror when I threw a tantrum.
“Your voice is incredibly loud.”
“And you never stop crying.”
“How is it even possible for a person to cry for over ten minutes?”
“I think I understand that one. The Princess is incredibly stubborn.”
“Once you decide to do something, you won’t change your mind even if it kills you.”
Since earlier, could Croa and Nanakda just pick one—are you close or not? When I complained shrilly about this, Croa and Nanakda lined up and tried to blend into the darkness behind the curtains. I really couldn’t tell if those two were close or what. Their hearts seemed to be in sync somehow, though.
“That style of dress also requires a personality to match it. If someone frivolous like Pisha tried wearing it, it would only look ridiculous.”
“Chief Chamberlain! Don’t call the Princess of a nation frivolous!”
“Then, silly.”
“Guards! Lock that Chamberlain in the Prison!”
At my call, the Imperial Guards entered the room, but Choco stepped forward and said it was fine since the Chief Chamberlain had only been speaking to her, and tried to send everyone out. Why! What does it matter if she’s the Chief Chamberlain! I’m sending that grandmother to the Prison!
“With Director Listo absent, is Pisha serving as Acting Director of the Public Broadcasting Station?”
“I misspoke!”
I’d graciously forgive myself for the frivolous comment. And thinking about it, the stoic evil sexy aesthetic didn’t seem to be my direction anyway. After incorporating the Chief Chamberlain’s opinion, I decided to wear pink fur, and after adorably setting on pink heart-shaped sunglasses, I spun around like a model in front of the crowd.
“This is it!”
“It suits Pisha perfectly!”
“Looking a bit silly is actually the charm point!”
“You look absolutely repulsive, Pisha!”
“This outfit is complete and looks great.”
They were complimenting me, right? Saying I looked silly meant that, right? That I had an innocent charm? I felt like I heard some insults mixed in there, but I decided to interpret it however I wanted. My wardrobe seemed to be almost entirely settled now, when Choco stepped forward and pulled out a secret weapon.
“Pisha! Please take this with you when you go!”
“Huh? A cigarette holder? But I don’t smoke?”
“Just try holding it!”
Hmm, the long cigarette holder does look stylish, but isn’t this also a wearable item? I placed my hand on my hip with uncertainty and struck a pose, and Father and the Chief Chamberlain immediately jumped to their feet, clapping enthusiastically.
“Choco wins first place!”
“How perfectly Kisomalos of you! It seems Helga has returned to us!”
Oh, really? So this was a historically significant item? Grandmother used to wear it like this? Now that I thought about it, there was something rather charming and traditional about it. I chuckled to myself, and both Croa and Nanakda praised how lovely the outfit looked. So it seemed I’d truly won first place in this fashion competition.
“I told you I’d win first place!”
Very well then—I’d grant Choco a special exemption from one hanging punishment in the Northern Tower. Upon my declaration, Choco became absolutely delighted. Now then, it was time to choose Croa’s outfit. To coordinate with Pisha, wouldn’t white be the best choice?
“What are you talking about? White is mine. Don’t wear it.”
“Are you a color delinquent?”
What’s a delinquent? Having never heard the term before, I asked Croa, and this history enthusiast explained the origins of the word through tales of old.
“Soldiers are divided into first and second ranks, first and second lines, aren’t they?”
“Oh, I know that. The elite troops ready for immediate deployment go into the first rank.”
“In the old schools and academies, the friends who could fight on the front lines during street brawls were called delinquents, apparently.”
“Why would schools have street brawls?”
“I wouldn’t know that either. I never lived in that era.”
Croa pondered earnestly why students would engage in such fights, lamenting that he’d love to know if only he could. In any case, I now understood what a delinquent meant—essentially a top-tier thug. Certainly, reserving a color exclusively for oneself could be called color thuggery.
“Nanakda, white isn’t something you patented. You can’t be the only one wearing it.”
“But our characters would overlap!”
“No? Even if Croa wears white, your characters wouldn’t overlap at all.”
Why was Nanakda, who possessed the strongest character and narrative of anyone, worried about such a thing? Genuinely curious, I asked, and the man responded with an absurd statement while pouting.
“White religious vestments! You should think of me when you see them! Not him!”
“Most people would think of you, wouldn’t they? It’s not like many people attend the gatherings anyway.”
“Not most people—you! You should think of me!”
Ah… I see. Nanakda Grant wanted me to think of him when I saw white vestments. As I responded with vague murmurs and awkward laughter, Nanakda grew irritable, insisting that wasn’t all he meant.
“Pisha!”
“Yes?”
“Changing clothes is off the table. Please focus on me.”
“Right, yes. Of course.”
Phew, I needed to be careful. Now that I thought about it clearly, I was practically filming a romantic comedy with Nanakda. But the way he kept teasing me, poking at me, adjusting his expression so naturally—my eyes and hands kept being drawn to him. What was I supposed to do about that?
“Ugh…”
But if I let such thoughts slip out loud, Croa would scold me and Nanakda would treat me like trash. So I’d keep my mouth firmly shut.
I dressed Croa in various outfits, playing with him like a doll, and black truly seemed to suit him best—calm and refined. Not that I was following Nanakda’s opinion or anything, but for Croa, sleek black was definitely the way to go. And the combination of black with pink looked wonderful too.
“That looks great!”
“Standing side by side like that, you two look like organized crime members!”
“That’s not a compliment, is it?”
“Well, soldiers also systematically exercise violence, so isn’t it all the same thing…?”
Right, I suppose so. Then I’ll take it as a compliment about looking dignified. Father still hasn’t abdicated as Emperor anyway, so I’m still the Air Force Commander.
“Well then, let’s wrap this up!”
“If we’ve decided, everyone back to work!”
Everyone here was busy, so we couldn’t keep them tied up any longer. Though reluctant, I said goodbye to everyone and began preparing for my business trip, gathering my clothes and other necessities.
The sea is lovely in summer, but winter has its own unique charm. I decided to make the most of the trip and packed my passport. My preparations were nearly flawless.

✦ ✦ ✦
Right before the airship departed, I received briefings from the Rocket Launch Team and interim team leader Sheryl Achilles. The precise timing and location of the Lorowi homemade bombs falling were the most critical aspects of the plan. Even the slightest miscalculation could endanger the gathering where I would be present.
But then again, this was an opportunity to showcase the precision of Kisomalos rocket bombs to the world. The guidance system was still in development, and if our nation executed this well, we could become the first on the continent to create a continent-spanning missile. This was also a chance to demonstrate that possibility.
“Oh! Everyone must be early risers—you’ve all arrived so promptly. I apologize for my tardiness.”
At a villa owned by Ismenios, I arrived deliberately ten minutes late to the terrace on a hilltop overlooking the horizon. With Croa tucked under one arm and an ostentatiously casual gait, I approached the elderly women—the instigators behind the civil war controversy from the Anti-Kisomalos Alliance, as well as Ismenios himself, who favored Kisomalos. All of them frowned at the sight of me.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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