I’m The Male Lead’s Biological Daughter, But I Want To Live With The Second Male Lead! - Chapter 103

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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 103
Francesca had always stood at the forefront of fashion in the Greenhurst Empire.
She released a new collection twice a year, once in spring and again in autumn.
“But it’s far too early for fall and winter garments to debut, sir.”
Dain adjusted his spectacles as he relayed the contents of the dispatch.
Of course, he already knew this himself.
A coat made from cat fur, unveiled by the Empress Consort.
It was a direct shot at someone in particular.
“For the Empress Consort to exact such revenge merely because the Emperor took her on a foreign tour instead of the Crown Prince…”
Zigmund responded with a cold laugh to Dain’s words.
“No, I suspect that’s only part of the reason.”
Mabel had ultimately refused to become engaged to the Crown Prince.
This was both a way to vent that frustration and to issue a warning to the Grand Duchy, which had allied itself with the Empress Consort.
For instance, Lillian had added a note at the end of her letter warning to be careful of Winter’s safety.
She might be trying to drive a wedge between the Wingtrion Family and the Eschlide Grand Duchy by using Winter.
But even so, how could she slaughter innocent animals like that?
‘How could the Empress of an entire nation do such a thing?’
Zigmund shuddered at Francesca’s cruelty.
Mabel, who had been clinging tightly to Zigmund’s neck, spoke.
“Was it… made from the Empress Consort’s cats?”
Her small voice trembled, hollow with fear.
For Mabel, barely nine years old, it was far too terrible and frightening.
Zigmund, belatedly realizing his mistake, quickly opened his mouth.
“No, that won’t be the case. The dispatch said so too—they weren’t missing.”
In other words, the Empress Consort’s cats had merely lost their lives.
The cat fur coat that Francesca created must have been made from slaughtering other cats.
That cruel woman would never have left evidence that could be used against her.
“Look, she buried them all properly. Thirty-four of them…”
Yet somehow, the more he spoke, the crueler the story seemed to become.
Under the weight of these successive horrors, Mabel’s complexion—pale as a white peach—grew ever more ashen.
Zigmund hastily changed the subject.
“Oh, that book you were curious about before has arrived.”
Today he had summoned Mabel not merely to show her the ledger.
“A book…?”
The abrupt shift caught Mabel off guard, and she blinked for a moment.
Then, as if remembering something, the color returned to her cheeks.
“You don’t mean… that book you mentioned before?”
“That’s right.”
When Zigmund nodded, Mabel’s face brightened at once.
She couldn’t believe he’d found it so quickly!
As fear drained away, her eyes began to fill with anticipation and excitement.
It was a great relief.
‘Next time I’ll have to receive dispatches when Mabel isn’t around, for heaven’s sake.’
Zigmund, pressing a hand to his chest inwardly, called for Dain.
“Dain, bring it over.”
“Yes! Here it is, sir!”
Dain brought over a package carefully wrapped in kraft paper.
“For our young lady to take such a keen interest in forgotten history—truly, one can see she is destined to lead the Eschlide Grand Duchy into—”
“Dain.”
Zigmund gave him a subtle signal as Dain rattled on thoughtlessly.
Fortunately, Mabel seemed too absorbed in unwrapping the package to pay much attention to Dain’s words.
About a week ago, after a dream in which a handsome boy appeared, Mabel and Winter had reconciled dramatically.
Yet Mabel still harbored a lingering doubt.
‘I understand now why all those strange things happened—it was because Winter is a Fantastical Species.’
But then Winter had said something.
That the Subjugation Mark couldn’t form because Mabel wasn’t a Seer.
Then what was that light that had healed both Winter’s and Mabel’s wounds so perfectly in that moment of crisis?
‘They say a Seer’s Blood is an elixir to Fantastical Species. So if that wasn’t me healing from drinking my own blood, then what was it?’
Wanting to clarify this point, Mabel had immediately brought her concerns to Zigmund for advice.
Fortunately, Zigmund had promptly scratched the itch that bothered her.
She knew of a book that contained more detailed information about Seers than *On Phantom Species and Their Beautiful, Eerie Masters*.
It was *Ozborn’s Record*, supposedly written by a Phantom Beast who had bonded with a Seer.
“You retrieved it faster than I expected.”
Zigmund asked Dain, sounding genuinely surprised.
“I thought the Holy Empire had designated it a Forbidden Book, so it would take some time?”
“Hmph. How could I call myself the First Advisor to Eschlide if I couldn’t manage even this much?”
Dain puffed out his chest and adjusted his spectacles, which glinted brilliantly.
“Wow, you really are quite remarkable, aren’t you, Uncle Dain?”
Until now, Mabel had assumed he’d become an advisor purely through his interview performance.
She gazed at him anew with admiration.
“Oh, I’m not really all that impressive. Ahem, ahem.”
Dain sidled closer, peering at her sheepishly.
He tapped his toe against the floor like an adolescent boy, his eyes fixed on his shoes.
With flushed cheeks, he glanced up at Mabel in embarrassment—it was quite a sight.
The naked hunger for praise made Zigmund feel somewhat exasperated.
“Why is a grown man fishing for compliments from a child?”
“Fishing? Proper flattery must be learned and practiced from a young age to come naturally, you know!”
Dain snapped back, his pride wounded.
Yet even he seemed to think it was a bit petty, for his ears flushed slightly red.
As he began to retreat with a cough, Mabel beamed at him.
“Thank you so much, Uncle Dain! I’ll read it carefully!”
She sat upon Zigmund’s lap and bowed her head respectfully.
Her cheeks, now slightly fuller, puffed out adorably.
How perfectly round and soft—utterly endearing.
How could anyone feel worldly in her presence?
Mabel was simply too precious for words!
“I-I wasn’t actually seeking praise, but ahem, yes! If our young lady requests it, how could I possibly refuse?”
Dain twisted his body in rapture, as though flower petals were falling around him.
“Stop it. I’m going to be sick.”
Zigmund fixed him with a stern look, but it had no effect.
“Hehehehe.”
Dain had apparently gone completely deaf to everyone else’s words.
“Ugh, this is unbearable…….”
Zigmund squeezed his eyes shut as though he’d witnessed something ghastly.
Regardless, Mabel’s only thought was to return to her room.
“Well then, I should be going!”
“What? Already?”
Zigmund startled and caught Mabel as she hopped to her feet.
“You’re leaving just like that?”
His pupils trembled as he looked at her, as though an earthquake had struck.
“I’ve seen the Ledger and received the book, and I need to speak with Winter about being cautious for a while going forward.”
Mabel looked up at him questioningly, as if to ask what the problem was.
‘Well, there’s no real problem, but…….’
Still, Zigmund’s face suggested he had much to say, his lips moving soundlessly.
“That is…….”
He hesitated.
Don’t we have more to discuss?
Didn’t I just tell you something incredibly important?
You were shocked by it too, weren’t you?
I’d rather not press the issue while you’re still reeling from it.
But even so, this? Like this?
Isn’t this taking it far too lightly……?
So many words crowded his throat to the bursting point, all clamouring to escape at once.
In the chaos, Zigmund found he couldn’t voice a single one.
“You’re right, I suppose. Go on then.”
Zigmund spoke as though sighing, and Mabel merely tilted her head in confusion.
Yet she soon broke into a bright smile and answered him.
“Yes! I’ll be on my way!”
Clutching the book tightly to her chest, Mabel bounded out of the Office with rapid footsteps.
Click.
As the door closed, Dain, who had been standing beside him, gave Zigmund’s shoulder a gentle pat.
“Hang in there.”
Zigmund answered in a troubled voice.
“Yes… thank you.”
* * *
Click.
Back in her room, Mabel leaned her back against the door and slid slowly down to the floor.
In truth, she had fled from the Office.
‘Father… really…’
Because she’d just heard a story she could hardly believe!
When Zigmund had previously grabbed Winter by the scruff and pointed to Mabel, calling her “my daughter,” she thought she’d misheard.
Or that the words had come out wrong.
But the conversation just now had made it certain.
“What is it?”
Winter, who had been in the hideaway, approached her.
Mabel set down her book and pulled Winter into a tight embrace instead.
Puff, puff, puff.
It felt as though steam were rising from her head.
With her face flushed such a vivid crimson, Mabel whispered softly.
“You know what?”
“Mew?”
“I might… actually get a real father!”
Very happily.

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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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