"Your Majesty, you should change your clothes first."
"No need."
After the massacre of critically ill patient Petunia, we arrived at the palace at midnight. There was no time to change clothes, so I immediately went to the child. This is all to minimize headaches that will come at any time after the effects of the blood run out. Still wearing a shirt full of blood, I pushed open the door and stepped inside, followed by Hamon. There, Duke Costello sat beside her.
She didn't flinch when she saw me appear looking like this. Instead, the look on the little girl's face looked happy.
"Everyone out."
Duke Costello glanced at her before bowing in doubtful respect. Hamon too. After hearing the door close tightly, I approached and sat on the sofa right before her. Meanwhile, although it was late at night, various light snacks consisting of assorted sweet desserts were available on the table.
Raising her right foot over her left and looking at her intently, I asked, "What did you call me just now?"
"Papa."
"I'm not your father."
She stared for a long time before nodding slowly.
While I closed my eyes while clenching my fists tightly, taking a deep breath, and continuing, "So, you're playing with me now, right?"
"But you are not my father. You are my Papa."
"Stop this nonsense."
Then pointed her right hand at him, and in the next second, she was already flying in the air. The profound blue aura surrounding her made it hard for the little girl to breathe, as if the oxygen around her had disappeared. Reflexes both hands pressed against the neck. She closed her eyes holding tightness. Amid his futile efforts, she still looked at me deep and shaded with the same green nets as the first time we met.
It sucks when she looks at me with that look, as if looking at me with pity but, on the other hand showing sickening affection. Our first meeting is not something worth remembering. I'm also at this time.
She should be scared and begging to die.
It should be like that.
Bruh!
Her petite body fell on the sofa as the profound blue aura disappeared. Still inhaling as much oxygen as possible to fill the small lung space, I didn't take my eyes off her. Shabby sheer white dress; lacerations on the face, hands, and feet; thin and trim body; yellow hair that still shines even when dirty and tangled; as well as both feet bare; everything is not much different from our initial meeting, except that her body has shrunk in size.
She looked back at me with a bold gaze when she sat back down after her breathing had calmed down. Clenched those tiny hands on their thighs, took a deep breath, and said aloud,
"You are my Papa!"
"I have no memory of having sex with the creature I hate the most." Supporting my chin with the back of my hand, asking, "What do you want?"
She was shocked. Her mouth opened slightly, and she quickly closed it again. In the next second, she lowered her head and lifted her head before pointing to the light snacks on the table. "I want to eat that," she said while glancing at the chocolate pudding on my far right.
Immediately following the direction of her finger, they glanced at the disgusting food, sighed, and then looked back at her. "You mean mushy food that likes to jiggle like a duck's butt?"
"Yes!"
"Just eat."
She immediately got off the sofa by jumping. Walk with a smiling face towards the chocolate pudding without a burden. When that tiny hand had reached what she wanted, she immediately put it into her mouth, eating chocolate pudding and standing up.
She eats carefree. A minute ago, she was on the verge of death, and the danger was still in front of her. I can understand that sometimes people are so brave that they seem stupid. However, this child was not courageous or unafraid of death; she wasn't thinking, and her brain wasn't working correctly.
Her hand had just taken the second chocolate pudding and put it in her mouth when she caught a hint of envy creeping up on me. She could eat comfortably after passing through death; I still have to think after feeding the darkness. The talk in the palace hall earlier this afternoon flashed back. The scenario I still used hundreds of years ago turned out to be unusable even though everything was very mature and perfect.
And the one who screwed it up was Marquess Matheo. Should I kill him?
A loud hum suddenly caught my ear. Seconds passed, and the buzz grew more intense and slowly attacked the head. My eyes widened, my head bowed, while my hands covered my ears tightly.
Sick!
Very painful!
I can hear no other sound. My head seemed to be hit from all directions, and my chest felt very tight.
... blood.
I have to get up to kill someone in the dungeon, but even this damn body can't stand up. This headache feels more terrible than before. The time hasn't even passed 8 hours since feeding the darkness. But now the headache has attacked again.
"ARGH!"
It's all because of that kid. I have to-
"Your Majesty! Are you awake?!"
"Your Majesty!"
Hamon and Duke Costello's voices alternately filled the ears. Touches on the left and right shoulders made me look up and lower my hands to cover my ears. The expressions of relief and worry from the two of them were the first things that filled my eyes when I regained consciousness.
"Your Majesty? Can you hear me?"
I just gave Hamon a worried look before turning to my right after noticing something like a coil in my stomach. When I lowered my eyes, the tiny child had been hugging me tightly for some time.
"You ...."
She looked up happily with tears and snot filling her face. Her face was relieved, mixed with worry. "Dad, are you okay?" Then she continued after a few moments of observing me, "Thank God."
I turned my face forward. Said coldly, expressionlessly, "Get rid of her."
Hamon, who was closest, immediately lifted her tiny body, picked up the child, and sat her down on the couch she was sitting on the last time. She lowered her head, not daring to look at me, just playing with her fingers and sometimes wiping tears and snot using the back of her hand.
"Everyone out."
Duke Costello glanced at her doubtfully, as did Hamon. The two people walked out when I repeated my order one more time. As the door was tightly shut was heard, I asked back.
"What did you just do?" Clenching my jaw, I continued, "Tell me, how come it's gone when I haven't killed anyone yet?"
But she didn't answer.
"Reply to me."
She gasped. In the next second, she raised her head; looked at me darkly and intensely. With swollen eyes from crying, she said, "Papa won't be in pain anymore. I promise."
Even though I didn't understand what she was saying, I didn't ask any more questions. Instead, my brain is full of flashbacks of events that once happened. What did I miss? However, when I saw that child returning, the grip marks on her upper right arm reminded me of Marquess Matheo, The Fat Mouse, who messed up my plans.
"If Papa is sick again, I will make his pain disappear."
My attention is back. Hearing her say with those small lips left me speechless. Even though she caused me to feel that damn headache, while it was confirmed that the conclusion was still a tentative hypothesis, I was already firmly convinced that she was the one who caused all this mess.
Then, the earlier she gave me, the headache was gone; somehow, I still had to investigate what she did to me, use magic or play a little trick.[]