DTBTHS Chapter 18

"All bulk, no substance. Agh, when is Seliana returning?"

"Father, do you trust your daughter-in-law more than your son?"

"Son, to say such things, shouldn't you defeat Seliana at least once? Your sparring record was 289 matches, 289 losses, wasn't it?"

"It's a bad matchup! And it's 287 losses, you know?"

"Eh? When did you win twice?"

"I didn't win—two were draws."

"Oh my, yes, 289 matches, 2 draws, 287 losses. Satisfied? What a boast, you fool."

"Against my wife, this much is impressive."

The Margrave grumbled and slyly reached toward Ariadne. The Archmage smacked away the hand trying to lift her. Smack.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"You avoided her all that time, and now you're monopolizing her?"

"The one who hogged the child all alone until now has greed to spare. Let me hold my granddaughter too, you fool."

The Archmage pursed his lips and looked down at Ariadne.

"Child."

"Yes."

The gaze looking down at her was soft and warm. Ariadne felt somehow embarrassed and fidgeted with her clothes.

The Archmage smiled.

"You understand, don't you? No need to worry about your uncle and grandfather. Why does such a young thing have so many concerns?"

The old man stroked her hair with his wrinkled hand and whispered affectionately.

"Child, you just need to live comfortably, carefree, like a child should. Don't try so hard to be an adult already. All right?"

She stopped breathing for a moment.

'The child isn't childlike. It's disgusting.'

From her past life's childhood, when she'd memorized her address and returned home, the words she'd heard echoed in her mind.

Without thinking, she checked the Archmage's expression. The old man was smiling. She was still in his embrace.

It likely wasn't said with the same intent as her past-life grandmother. Even knowing that, she couldn't help feeling anxious.

'If I don't act like a child, will they gradually come to dislike me?'

But hadn't she thought about this before?

What ending the original Ariadne, who truly was a young child, had met.

If she'd really been an ordinary child and had been frightened by the Archmage's scowl in that moment, things would have flowed according to that original.

'Maybe I recalled my past life's memories precisely because I had to in order to survive.'

She'd thought that too.

If she'd recalled her past life's memories to survive, shouldn't she absolutely never live like an ordinary child going forward?

Shouldn't she doubt, stay vigilant, never let down her guard?

What if she focused on not being hated and ended up betrayed?

She had no confidence she could keep being loved anyway, and if she relied on such emotions and people's hearts changed, wouldn't that be more dangerous?

She frantically calculated which approach would be safer and more advantageous, then suddenly felt revulsion.

Because she remembered the blank contract the Margrave had given her.

She found herself disgusting for making such calculations. She had no face to look at the Archmage or Margrave.

She murmured quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

"...For not being childlike. I'll try."

The Archmage looked as though he'd been struck.

The Margrave, sitting across from them, stared at her blankly, then shot to his feet.

He gripped the shoulders of the bowed child and called to her quietly.

"Ariadne."

"Yes."

"That's not something you should apologize for. It's not a bad thing either."

"There must have been many moments you couldn't endure as a child... That's probably why you became mature."

Ariadne slowly raised her head. The Margrave's face strangely contorted as he continued quietly.

"That's not your fault. When a child can't be childlike, that's the adults' fault."

Looking more carefully, his strangely contorted face wasn't contorted—it was sad.

"Ariadne, you being mature isn't a wrong thing—it's a sad thing."

The Margrave truly looked sorrowful.

Strength entered the arms of the Archmage holding her. The Archmage's voice came out hoarse.

"Child, I... I scolded you because I wanted you to lean on us. Not to blame you, but because I wanted you to be more comfortable. That's why."

Ariadne raised her head further to see the Archmage's face above her. The old man's face was also sadly contorted.

"We're your grandfather and your uncle, aren't we? Hm?"

Why did they look so sad?

That she didn't lean on them, that she acted mature—were these really such sad things?

'Ah.'

Suddenly Ariadne looked down at her own hands.

'I see.'

Small hands. A young child's body.

'I'm still young.'

It was an obvious realization, yet shocking.

She'd known it intellectually.

The proposition that "children ought to be protected and loved."

Yet she'd nearly forgotten that she herself was a "child" included in that proposition.

To her, being young had always been a great weakness and shackle.

In her past life, and in this life too.

She looked at the Margrave and Archmage—no, at the uncle who'd given her a blank contract, and the grandfather who'd wept while shielding her from Blighted Essence.

These people were sad that she didn't perceive herself as a child deserving of love. That's why they wore those expressions.

People willing to be her protectors. People telling her it was acceptable to be a child. Family who would love her.

'I don't have to endure alone anymore?'

I don't have to doubt?

Something stirred in a corner of her heart. Like stepping from the cold outside into warmth, a ticklish feeling arose.

In that instant, she felt something suppressed surging upward.

The thing overwhelmed by her past life's memories and burdensome circumstances. Herself as still a young child. Or the self that had wanted to be loved.

Tears welled in the girl's blue eyes. They filled the corners of her eyes and overflowed. A single tear caressed her cheek as it fell. Plop.

"Ariadne?"

The Margrave called to her in surprise. The flustered Archmage lifted her to meet her gaze.

Ariadne reached out her arms. The child's slender arms encircled the old man's neck.

She asked through her tears.

"Can I trust you?"

"Hm?"

"Can I lean on you? Can I cling to you?"

The Archmage fell silent for a moment as though speechless, then pulled the child tightly into his embrace. The child's body was small and warm. He answered in a choked voice.

"Of course. Of course you can."

"Can I keep living here?"

"As long as you like, child."

"Can I call you Grandfather?"

"Please call me that."

Ariadne buried her face in the Archmage's neck. The child whispered quietly. Grandfather.

Yes. The Archmage replied in a trembling voice, patting the child. His eyes grew moist.

The Margrave interjected as though sulking.

"What about me? Won't you call me? Call me Uncle too, hm! Hug me too!"

"This fool ruining the moment!"

The Archmage snapped irritably. The Margrave ignored him and made a tearful face at Ariadne.

It was clearly different from when he'd been genuinely sorrowful earlier. He looked like a bear making itself as pitiful as possible.

Ariadne smiled through her tear-filled face and reached out toward him.

"Uncle."

"Yes!"

As the Margrave grinned broadly and tried to grasp her hand, the Archmage twisted his body away while still holding her.

"Isn't this too much, Father!"

"Don't touch her. She's my granddaughter."

"She's my niece too!"

"If you touch her, your stupidity will rub off on her."

"It's just that Father's standards are high—I was in the top ranks during my Academy days!"

The Margrave cried out as though deeply wronged. His expression looked so pitiful that Ariadne finally laughed aloud.

2. Age Eight

The year changed. As the snowstorms subsided, spring drew closer.

Though the cold hadn't retreated yet, pale green shoots began revealing themselves little by little between the melting snow.

Ariadne came out to the courtyard wearing a coat lined with glossy, soft snow fox fur.

The fine fur coat was one of the things she'd received from the Margrave as an eighth birthday present.

The Margrave, waiting at the castle gates, spread his arms when he saw her.

"Ariadne!"

"Uncle."

Ariadne approached and hugged him. The Margrave lifted her lightly.

"You'll be cold. Wouldn't it be better to wait inside?"

"I want to go greet them together. I want to meet Aunt and my cousin soon too."

"They're looking forward to meeting you in person as well. Letters can't properly convey how lovely a child you are."

The Margrave spoke with a goofy smile.

The servants, now accustomed to this, no longer cared whether the Margrave made foolish expressions or not. They were busy inspecting Ariadne's outfit.

"Young Lady, you dropped your gloves!"

"Oh my, your nose is already red. What should we do?"

"The hand warmer the Archmage made—you packed it properly, didn't you?"

Led by Lucy, the maids who'd gathered around made a fuss.