I Became the Daughter of a Disgraced Duke - Chapter 32

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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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Episode 31
The attic monster was Barelmor.
“Your knees are scraped. Tell your uncle later and ask him to put medicine on them. But your face has healed up nicely. That’s good. I was worried.”
“Barelmor. Have you been here every day?”
“I wanted to be alone. Anyway, you’re talking so much more now. Did your father teach you?”
It was too dark to see clearly, but Barelmor’s face looked troubled.
‘That’s not the face of someone who actually wants to be alone.’
The truth is, I’m a coward—I get so scared my legs shake—but I lie often and say I’m not afraid at all.
So at least when it comes to saying things I don’t mean, I can tell.
‘Even now, looking at him, Barelmor is a coward just like me.’
Cowards have a way of recognizing cowards.
So I wanted to stay with him.
“My face doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“It hurt a lot back then?”
“No. It doesn’t hurt. But it hurts without Barelmor.”
“Huh?”
“It hurts here without Barelmor.”
I tapped my chest as I spoke.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, Barelmor became clearer.
“You’re saying your heart ached because I was gone? You’re lying.”
“I like Barelmor, but you’re always disappearing. So it hurts. It’s sad.”
……
“Do you hate me?”
……
At my words, Barelmor’s body flinched. Waiting for his answer, my chest actually began to sting.
All the bruises on my face have faded, so he didn’t have to feel burdened by me anymore.
“You’re just a child. You don’t understand anything.”
“I’m not a child.”
Originally, Barelmor and I were the same age—ten years old.
At ten, you could pretend to sleep, wake up at eleven at night, and sneak ham from the kitchen to eat.
Ruana pulled me along so many times to steal ham that I know how grown I’ve become.
“I’m really not a child.”
“You are a child. You’re small, and you complain that things are spicy the moment there’s pepper in your food.”
“I’m really not a child!”
“Fine. I’ll say you’re not a child.”
My chest was so tight that my native tongue tumbled out instead of the Imperial Language.
“(No. Actually, my real age is, um, uh?)”
Something tickled my hand.
Had the attic monster appeared? Or was I imagining things?
My shoulders stiffened rigid.
Creak-creak. Creak. My neck made a strange sound as I turned.
On the back of my hand was a jet-black spider crawling.
As big as my hand too.
“Aaaahhhhh!”
Goosebumps cascaded down my spine.
I scrambled up onto Barelmor’s shoulders and screamed.
“I’m a child! I’m a child! I hate spiders! Save me! Waaahhh!”
* * *
Sniffle. Sniffle.
I’d cried so hard my nose wouldn’t stop running.
It still felt like an insect was crawling across the back of my hand.
“Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not. Sniff!”
“So you’re afraid of bugs. Well, you’re still a child, so it makes sense.”
Barelmor wasn’t afraid of bugs at all—he caught the spider with his bare hand and flicked it out through a hole in the attic window.
Just then, light flashed behind Barelmor.
With brown hair and brown eyes, Barelmor looked more magnificent than any golden-haired prince in a fairy tale.
“Adrian was never scared of bugs when he was your age. You must be a champion coward child.”
“I’m not.”
“Wipe away your tears first, then talk.”
I held my breath as carefully as possible, not wanting to give myself away.
If I’d breathed normally, my nose would’ve made a sound for certain.
Barelmor pulled out a handkerchief and held it to my nose. “Go ahead.”
“Sniff.”
No matter how I looked at it, Barelmor seemed far more impressive than Father.
He didn’t fear insects, touched them without hesitation, and instead of killing them, he even carried them outside.
‘Next time an insect appears, I’ll run across Barelmor’s shoulder.’
Then he’d handle them all for me.
‘He won’t dislike me just because I’m not his blood sister, will he?’
Adrian, my actual brother, was a boy like Barelmor, but I was a girl, and the thought that he might find me troublesome filled me with worry.
“Barelmor. You’re my brother, right?”
“Me?”
“No? You don’t want to be my brother?”
“Well, that’s…”
I gripped Barelmor’s arm tightly.
Brave people like Barelmor were rare.
Even among the boys I’d met at the Orphanage, many would scream at the sight of insects.
The moment I thought that Barelmor might actually dislike me, tears that had barely stopped began gathering at the corners of my eyes again.
“I like you, Barelmor. Don’t you like me?”
“I don’t dislike you. It’s just…”
This time, Barelmor’s voice wavered.
In the quiet Attic, his trembling breath echoed.
“…You’re lucky. You have a father.”
“Barelmor. You have your uncle.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Why? He’s your father, isn’t he?”
“You’ll understand someday, but the truth is I’m someone else’s son. And my mother… she’s gone. I’m just… I’m nothing at all.”
My mouth fell open at the revelation of his birth secret.
But even if Uncle isn’t Barelmor’s real father, doesn’t that still make him his father?
Annemarie isn’t my real mother, yet I love her like a stepmother, don’t I?
Besides, Uncle asks the maids every lunchtime whether they’ve seen Barelmor, asking if he’s eating his meals properly.
“You know, Ruana is my friend, but she’s precious even though she’s not family.”
“…”
“And even though Ruana loves her sister more than me, which makes me really sad, I always love Ruana anyway.”
“That’s because you’re a fool.”
“No. Because Ruana is special to me, I became special to Ruana too.”
When I was very young, there was a great war, and the Orphanage was filled with siblings who’d come together with friends.
But I was always alone.
I had no siblings except my cousin Enrique, and I haven’t been able to see him either.
Watching friends with their siblings brought a wave of loneliness.
I envied them often.
So I loved my friends all the more.
The more I treasured my friends, the more they came to see me as special too.
All I could do was love them more.
‘No one dislikes being loved.’
So when I gave more love, I received more love in return.
Because I made someone special, I became special myself.
“You’re special to me, Barelmor. You’re my brother even if you’re not his blood son. That’s why I’m happy.”
“I’m… special?”
“Of course you’re special to me. Aren’t you? You matter to me, Barelmor.”
“…”
Barelmor bowed his head deeply.
Did his stomach hurt?
Well, he hadn’t eaten properly and had been hiding in the Attic, so his stomach probably ached.
“Are you okay?”
I pressed my face against Barelmor’s knee and looked up at him.
It was too dark to see well, but it seemed like the skin around Barelmor’s eyes had turned reddish.
“Are you crying?”
“No, I’m not crying!”
“Then do you need to use the bathroom?”
“Why would you go to the bathroom? I’m just……”
This time Barelmor tilted his head back toward the sky.
So I couldn’t see what expression he was wearing.
Then, at some point, Barelmor answered—quietly. Very quietly.
“I think of you as my sister too.”
Barelmor’s voice in answering was thick with moisture.
“Really?”
“Really and truly.”
“Tomorrow too?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow too?”
“Even if I’m nothing at all, I’ve only got…Father and Adrian and Uncle—and you. If I matter to you, then you matter to me too.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
I held out my finger, and in the darkness Barelmor found my hand without difficulty, linking his pinky with mine.
We linked pinkies, made our vow, pressed our thumbs together for a seal, and then crossed our hearts—and suddenly both Barelmor and I burst out laughing.
* * *
Sharing blood doesn’t mean you can bare everything to one another.
A dead child had come back to life. At the very age she’d been when she died.
We’d fought a war against the Demonic God just years before, so I knew.
The resurrection of the dead was tied to malevolent power.
So Cassian let it be without actively denying that Zenobion had adopted the child.
What anyone else thought didn’t matter.
What mattered to Cassian was that his daughter was by his side.
“I’m home, Dad.”
Cassian opened the door to Adrian’s Playroom and announced his arrival.
Usually this was when the sound of little feet came thundering across the floor.
Of course, Iris hadn’t been close to him from the start.
On the first day he’d left the child with Zenobion, she’d greeted him stiffly from a distance.
Even a father who hadn’t recognized his own daughter—she still waited for him calling him Dad.
He couldn’t describe how full his chest felt.
After Iris died, he was tempted to praise himself for not giving up on his miserable life.
The next day she’d seen him through the Playroom window and waved.
Cassian, delighted, waved his arm back at his daughter.
Days later she hid behind the door and startled him.
“Boo!”
He’d sensed her presence from the beginning and knew she was there, but he pretended not to, feigning shock with exaggerated surprise.
“Ahhh! You got me! My heart nearly stopped!”
Scraping together every bit of acting skill he had, he threw himself into playing the startled father.
That day Iris threw her arms around him and asked to be held for the first time.
On top of that, she stopped using formal speech and began addressing him much more warmly.
With each passing day, Iris and he grew closer—even more so as evening came than morning.
Yesterday, when he’d called her name from the first floor, she’d stopped playing mid-game and came thundering down.
More than that.
“Daaad!”
She’d cried out and come running, then jumped and clung to him.
“Whoa, whoa—your pants are slipping. Don’t pull so hard.”
When he’d said that, his daughter had giggled delightfully.
When he first lost her, he’d lived only because he couldn’t die, but now she was so precious that if anything happened to her, he’d resolved to walk that path not alone but dead beside her.
“What? What? Say that again?”
“It’s…the young lady, she’s disappeared.”
Iris was gone.

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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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