Black-Haired Dad Isn’t Something You Reap - Chapter 76

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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 76. At most Maternal Family Homes, one receives Maternal Grandmother’s secret weapon. Ours was marinated flounder. (7)
First she called me a ruthless woman for supposedly killing Father. Now Maternal Grandmother speaks as though the man who needed to die is finally dead.
I’m genuinely uncertain whether I should be pleased or troubled by this. But my sharp-witted friends stepped in to represent my muddled thoughts with their own crisp observations.
“If that’s your concern, I don’t think you need worry. Kisomalos may not appear in public, but he has already granted an oracle to Pisha.”
“Exactly! Our family’s problems were resolved thanks to Kisomalos’s oracle!”
Ah, so that was the lie I’d spun when I visited Achilles Territory! Thank you for reminding me! Croa, Shirley!
“Is that truly the case?”
“An oracle?”
Both grandmothers fixed their gaze upon me simultaneously, which was unsettling, but since this wasn’t a lie—merely a statement grounded in fact—I could speak with confidence.
“Indeed! Kisomalos remains in good health!”
“Hmph.”
“Well, that would make sense. Even the most foolish deity wouldn’t wish ruin upon their descendants.”
Though calling him foolish seemed rather harsh, given that Kisomalos had already exceeded five hundred years in the Mortal Realm.
I’d been about to caution Head Attendant Grandmother about her choice of words when she—a woman who apparently suffered from a terminal condition that would kill her if she didn’t voice her opinions—suddenly struck me with something shocking.
“Abandon Kisomalos and that Trimuti fellow. Pisha, Lorowi suits your temperament far better.”
How many years had it been since I’d heard Trimuti’s name? Wasn’t he dead? Or had he been castrated and cast out? Since Maternal Grandmother was bringing him up, he must still be alive.
“Wait, wasn’t Trimuti castrated?”
“Adoption is sufficient to continue a lineage.”
“How audacious—asking a princess of an empire to become the heir of a marquis.”
“No nation lasts forever. But as long as war exists, Lorowi will endure.”
This chamberlain’s disrespect was truly beyond the pale, leaving me speechless. What was I to do? Prisoner had been right—a full-scale conflict would yield nothing but losses for Kisomalos. That’s why there was no way to neutralize Lorowi.
Could my late grandmother, the former Emperor, have thought that if she married Helbatro to Lorowi, she might gain some control over them? If so, I’d like to tell her that was a grave miscalculation—even if I had to chase through time itself to do it.
“Mother, does that mean I would be adopting Pisha?”
My Aunt, who had remained silent until now, spoke up with visible reluctance. Since she was the current Marquis, I would naturally have to place myself under her authority to succeed the title. I’d accepted this as inevitable, but then the previous Marquis said something shocking.
“No. When Pisha arrives, she will become Lorowi’s representative.”
What?
“But Pisha is still just a child!”
Isn’t that exactly what I’m saying?
“What does that matter? I’m still active. The title of Lorowi Marquis—something you could have borne—will be handled with ease by Lutia’s daughter.”
“There she goes again with talk of my sister!”
Gasp! Aunt was genuinely furious! While she raised her voice often enough, I’d never seen her unleash her anger so completely. Glaring at Maternal Grandmother with murderous intent, my Aunt ignited a corner of the Dining Hall with divine power and fled the room.
“Hmph, so emotional.”
Ugh, I’ve gotten tangled up in something troublesome again. The real issue isn’t that Lorowi dislikes me—it’s this infernal triangle of conflict between Maternal Grandmother, Mother, and Aunt.
“I’m not asking you to become Lorowi’s representative immediately. I can give you all the time you need to think it over.”
While I’m here, I should visit the Training Ground, observe the soldiers, and tour the Weapons Development Research Institute. Maternal Grandmother had already informed the Estate that I could go anywhere by simply mentioning Vishnabel’s name, so I could take the children sightseeing whenever I pleased.
“Ugh…”
But how could I possibly relax and enjoy myself after witnessing all this? I could already feel the food I was eating turning to stone in my stomach.
Fearing Maternal Grandmother might say more, I hurriedly finished the remaining food and retreated to my room. Predictably enough, I ended up with indigestion, took antacids, and spent the evening groaning in bed.

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“Ugh, blegh.”
I’d vomited yesterday, and today nausea wracked my body—I felt absolutely wretched. As I lay struggling on the guest room bed, Croa arrived carrying an empty washbasin and settled beside me.
“Shall I open a window? If you’re feeling worse, you can use this.”
“No, I’m fine. You don’t need to attend to me like this. Emily is here anyway.”
“That’s not it. I do this because I want to.”
I remarked that he had peculiar tastes, enjoying such menial tasks, and Croa’s expression turned slightly sullen as he deflected the comment back to me.
“It’s not that I enjoy receiving filth. It’s that I care for you, Pisha, so I can do these things.”
“Ah… I see. That’s admirable.”
This was the moment to offer praise, wasn’t it? Unlike Helbatro, I possessed social grace as a Princess, so I lavished Croa with compliments.
“Huff. Huff.”
But why was he suddenly taking deep breaths? Had he hyperventilated, or was something wrong with his lungs? I mentioned calling a physician to Emily, but Croa insisted he was in perfect health and changed the subject.
“You’re troubled by what the previous generation said, aren’t you?”
“Ah… yes, that’s right.”
I’d never even considered the idea of switching divine patrons. Normally, the original deity wouldn’t let go, but Kisomalos is completely broke right now.
And here’s the thing—what if I don’t become Kisomalos’s descendant? Then I wouldn’t have to repay the debt by elevating his divine status, right? Of course, Kisomalos would be in a bind, but at least I could live normally. I could escape that hellish cycle of eternal punishment.
“Lorowi…”
The previous Lorowi Marquis must have seen me as a child with considerable talent for warfare, but honestly… doesn’t Shirley have more talent? I simply study military history and weapons as a hobby.
“Ugh! Being this popular is exhausting!”
“Haha, you certainly are popular, Pisha.”
Even as Croa laughed, he pouted his lips slightly, showing his discomfort. Soon after, he composed himself and leaned closer to me.
“Actually, this was supposed to be a secret.”
Perhaps noticing my anxiety over Kisomalos’s absence from official events, Croa shared some recent news about Media.
“Actually, Media hasn’t attended the Media Royal Family’s ancestral rites in quite some time.”
“Hmm?”
This was the first I’d heard of it. That deity hasn’t had issues with divine rank demotion or disappearance. If anything, it seems likely he simply refuses to appear because he dislikes his descendants.
“There’s been no other incident?”
“No. It seems he simply disapproves of having separate bloodlines—one for curse-work and one to lead the kingdom.”
Croa laughed shyly, admitting he’d only heard this secondhand and didn’t know the exact details.
Hmm… that story sounds like it could become excellent leverage for overturning something.
In any case, this wasn’t a matter I could solve by thinking alone. First, I should consult with Emperor Father, and if I could secure Lorowi’s cooperation, that would be even better.
“My mind feels much lighter now. You can go back, Croa.”
“No, if you don’t mind, Pisha, I’d like to stay by your side?”
Really? The bed’s spacious enough, so do as you wish.
When I gave my permission readily, Croa placed the washbasin on a chair and awkwardly climbed onto the bed. Turning to face me, he grasped my hand firmly, giggled, and wished me sweet dreams.
“Sleep well, Pisha.”
“You too. Get some good rest.”
And so Croa and I drifted contentedly to sleep in the estate, where a cool breeze drifted through the rooms.
But waking was far less pleasant. This godforsaken rural backwater had a rooster that crowed at four in the morning.
Croa and I woke before dawn, yawning repeatedly, covering each other’s ears, and burrowing back under the blankets.

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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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