4 : Growing Steadily
“I’m sorry.”
Listening to Lyra’s report about the baby felt bitterly ironic—like receiving a mission briefing rather than news about his own child.
“Thank you for growing so well.”
According to Lyra, the baby was unbelievably gentle, yet developing remarkably fast—healthy, bright, and thriving. Whenever he relayed these updates to his wife, she would smile beautifully, her face free of worry.
But inside, he was burning to ashes.
He wanted to go with his wife.
But he couldn’t.
With trembling hands, he covered the baby’s tiny foot peeking out from the blanket. It was so small and soft that just touching it made his chest ache.
“Why are you so unbearably precious…?”
Both children—the one before him and her sister that she hadn’t yet met—were just so lovable he could hold them forever.
When Lyra quietly excused herself, only he and the baby remained in the room.
“Little one.”
Ssshk, ssshk—addicted to that quiet sound, Sears pressed his swollen eyes shut.
“Your father is pathetic.”
Absurdly, tears fell. No sobs escaped, but the droplets splashed onto his hands—and sometimes, onto the baby’s blanket.
He stayed by the child’s side for a long time.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“Mmmph?!”
The moment I opened my eyes, I vigorously sucked on the pacifier in my mouth.
Ah, this familiar sensation. I really should wean off this thing, but I keep reaching for it when I’m anxious.
‘Wait… Did I just have a weird dream?’
I’d dreamed of a ridiculously handsome but oddly childlike man sniffling beside me.
What kind of nightmare is this?
He kept crying, but I couldn’t move—couldn’t comfort him, wipe his tears, or even whisper, “Please, just be quiet.”
‘Definitely a weird dream. Still, I should be careful today.’
Better safe than sorry.
Gripping the bedpost, I wobbled to my feet just as Lyra entered—followed by two unfamiliar maids.
I blinked in greeting.
Hi, Lyra.
“You’re up early, young miss.”
I wanted to smile like an adorable baby, but my lips felt like stone. Sorry, unnie. But you’re not smiling either.
“The weather is lovely today. You must be in a good mood, yes?”
Lyra moved like lightning, yanking the curtains open with terrifying precision.
“Gah!”
Couldn’t she give me a second to adjust? I squinted against the sudden light—but Lyra wasn’t done.
“Which means it’s the perfect day for some exercise.”
…Huh?
In the time it took me to blink, she’d already tidied the room, scooped me up, and plopped me onto the floor.
“You must grow strong—strong enough to take walks, exercise, and stay healthy with me. So today, we’ll work on leg strength.”
Leg strength?!
“Now, try walking here, young miss.”
“…”
Her dead-serious expression made me feel obligated to comply.
Is this really how you raise a baby? Why does this feel like physical therapy?!
Under Lyra’s stern gaze, I nervously shuffled forward, counting my steps.
“Good. Now this way. One more time.”
My oversized head nearly toppled me backward, but I barely managed to balance.
Clutching the wall, I realized this was just like the core workouts from my past life—and felt a tiny existential crisis creeping in.
“You did well today, young miss.”
Weird.
Why did Lyra’s praise make me feel like a trained puppy?
Sighing, I stumbled toward the mirror and pressed my palm against it. A tiny, maple-leaf-shaped handprint smudged the surface—and for the first time, I really looked at my reflection.
‘So this is my face now.’
My brow furrowed. (Past-me avoided mirrors.)
Fluffy, silver-ish hair stuck up in tufts. A nose scrunched up like an angry kitten’s.
Steadying myself, I patted my reflection’s head.
‘Wait, isn’t Rose supposed to have pink hair? Why is mine silver? Does it change later?’
Just then, a maid whispered to another:
“Have you heard about House Belkius?”
Huh? Belkius?
My ears perked up. That’s the male lead’s family.
“In the capital, not knowing that means you’re a spy.”
“They’re all dead, aren’t they?”
…What?
I gasped—then froze as Lyra’s sharp eyes locked onto mine. I quickly feigned innocence, but her stare bored into me.
Nope. I know *nothing.
‘So it’s the Belkius Massacre.’
I recognized this from the original novel.
Gabriel—my future fiancé, the male lead—would become the family head at twelve after his entire lineage was slaughtered. The event shaped his cold, desperate nature.
The massacre’s orchestrator? Only revealed at the story’s end, by Gabriel himself.
‘And I’ll have to face them.’
A shiver ran down my spine.
‘Living inside a novel is scarier than I thought…’
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
In this world, certain people were born with **”Blessed Words”**—divine prophecies granting unique abilities.
Rosé von Hillington’s was “You shall bloom gloriously,” making her irresistibly lovable.
Gabriel Belkius’s was “Nothing shall pierce you,” destined to make him the empire’s greatest swordsman.
But his heart had frozen. He couldn’t feel ordinary emotions—not for family, not for anyone.
The novel had summarized Gabriel’s past in a few lines, but hearing it firsthand chilled me.
‘If my family were slaughtered overnight…’
What had he felt?
A naive boy, left alone, endured relentless schemes from those coveting his title and wealth. By twelve, he’d fully awakened his Blessed Words—and wielded them brutally.
‘The Young Lady is Sweet was my lifeline in my past life, but Gabriel’s story is cruel.’
His childhood humiliations weren’t detailed, but if his first act as family head was executing his remaining kin, the horror was unimaginable.
‘Somewhere in this world, there’s a boy who lost everything—parents, friends—who doesn’t even know how to hold a sword.’
Guilt prickled my chest.
Here I was, giddy about my new, loving family—while Gabriel was living in hell.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“Young miss.”
“Eep?”
Lyra?
“Don’t just stand there. Let me hold you.”
She swooped me up before I could spiral deeper. Dangling midair, I melted into her warmth.
‘Babies are heavier than they look. Since when was Lyra this strong?’
When she sharply dismissed the maids, their indifference stung.
“Eep.”
I accidentally gripped Lyra’s sleeve. For a second, her eyes seemed to smile—but her face remained stoic.
“The duke rarely visits, but he admires your resilience and loves you dearly.”
Yeah, right.
“And I… am growing fond of our time together.”
Well, thanks.
I suddenly wondered about Lyra’s past.
Where’s she from? Why so expressionless? Does she dislike me? Then why are her words so kind?
“See? Peaceful and quiet. What a lovely moment.”
…True.
“You deserve every privilege, young miss. Everyone in this house will cherish you.”
Really?
“Wahh!”
“Yes, just like that.”
I’ll ask later if you’ll always stay by my side.
You might not like me, but… I like you.
“No need for worries. Just eat, sleep, and be happy. So don’t make that face.”
“Wah-wah!”
What face?!
“You really seem to answer back. Such a peculiar child.”
“Bleh!”
Lyra, you dummy.
I pouted.
“Shall we nap now? Grow healthier today, exercise tomorrow.”
Her voice was cold, but I smiled.
Okay, Lyra. I’m Rose now.
So I’ll be happy. Right?
I didn’t know if I could ever sweeten my absent father’s heart or Gabriel’s future like the real Rose would have.
But if we meet… I hope we can at least smile at each other.
