The reason Duke Leandro Bellatore suddenly decided to adopt a child was incredibly trivial.
“My son spoke yesterday!”
It was a single, offhand remark from his only friend.
Two years ago, Count Fabian Valerius had welcomed his second child, and since then, he took every opportunity to boast about how adorable and precious his children were. Leandro found it baffling how his friend could go on and on about his kids every time they met, never once seeming to lose his voice.
But that was simply the way Fabian was.
Count Fabian Valerius was one of the few people who could approach the formidable Duke Leandro Bellatore without hesitation and speak his mind. If Leandro was a towering, merciless, snow-capped mountain, then Fabian was a warm, sunlit meadow. Despite their polar-opposite personalities, the two got along surprisingly well.
“So, when are you getting married?”
“I really want to be in-laws with you!”
Fabian would constantly preach about the joys of marriage and the adorable nature of children. He would wax poetic about their chubby arms and diapered bottoms, or the way his eldest daughter would run to greet him after a long day. It wasn’t merely bragging; it was practically evangelism.
Normally, Leandro let the words go in one ear and out the other, but for some reason, that day, Fabian’s fervor stuck with him. Perhaps he had heard it so often that it had finally carved a permanent groove into his brain.
“A father is truly a noble existence.”
The man saying it, however, looked anything but noble. His upper lip was stretched in a sappy, exaggerated grin that bordered on the grotesque. He used to wear that same expression when talking about his fiancée before they were married; now, it was reserved for gushing about his children.
“They’re really adorable! Why don’t you believe me?!”
Leandro had scoffed and told him to look in a mirror before spouting such nonsense, then climbed into his carriage.
That day, the streets were unusually full of families. Everywhere he looked, he saw parents and children laughing together. They all looked… happy.
Was it really that great?
Resting his head against the carriage window, Leandro closed his eyes.
“…So that’s why you adopted me?”
Bellatrix was dumbfounded.
Though the adoption had been sudden, the carriage remained parked in front of the orphanage. Silas had gone inside to handle the paperwork while the knights stood guard around the vehicle. In the interim, Leandro had decided to explain his reasoning to his new daughter.
He adopted a child… because of something his friend said?
In the two years she had spent at the orphanage, Bellatrix had seen many adults come looking for children. Each had their own reasons. Some had struggled for years to conceive. Some simply loved children. Others had started as volunteers and couldn’t bear to leave one behind. A few had lost a child of their own and sought to fill that terrible void.
But every one of them had at least shown some semblance of affection, some genuine interest in the children.
“You’re an idiot, aren’t you?”
She had never heard such a ridiculous reason for adoption. Bellatrix sneered at him openly.
“What a lovely way for my only child to speak.”
Leandro clicked his tongue, though he wasn’t truly displeased. He much preferred her bold defiance to the children who had cowered and cried before him.
“Either way, wasn’t this what you wanted? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have blocked my path.”
Bellatrix reluctantly conceded the point.
She had chosen this man as her ticket out of the miserable orphanage. It had been a wild gamble, but unexpectedly, luck had been on her side.
Even so, she didn’t feel entirely at ease.
Gazing at the orphanage building, Bellatrix spoke. Just then, Silas emerged, the groveling orphanage director trailing behind him. Bellatrix’s round eyes narrowed.
“…I have a request.”
The orphanage director looked uneasy. The other teachers were no better.
“The director and the teachers here are embezzling funds.”
“I suspected as much.”
“They also abused us. And lately, they’ve been talking to a pimp.”
Leandro, who had been looking distastefully at her tattered sleeves, suddenly went still.
“…Do you even know what a pimp is?”
“Of course I do. They sell people to bars and brothels.”
Bellatrix gritted her teeth.
“…They were planning to sell one of the older girls to him.”
“So, you want me to punish them?”
At Leandro’s question, Bellatrix quickly amended her statement.
“Everyone except for Teacher Constance. She was the only one who looked after us.”
“The woman with brown hair and an injured finger, correct?”
How did he know that? Bellatrix stared at him, amazed.
Leandro didn’t mind her wide-eyed admiration. Her stare sent a strange, ticklish sensation through his chest, like a loose thread snagging on the inside of his shirt.
“She was the only one worried about you children.”
Unlike the director and the other teachers, who either groveled or watched with wary eyes, Constance had kept a sharp, protective gaze on the Duke. Each time a child had burst into tears, she had shot him a look brimming with resentment.
She was the only one in that place who had been truly concerned for the children.
“Whenever he got drunk, he always hit us.”
Leandro’s gaze dropped to Bellatrix’s arm, where a faint bruise peeked out from under her short sleeve.
“Did he do that one?”
“No, that was another teacher.”
Bellatrix subtly pulled her sleeve down to cover the mark.
“The ones the director gave me are on my back.”
She said it as casually as if she were brushing dust from her clothes.
Bellatrix then proceeded to recount every cruelty she had endured at the orphanage. As Leandro listened in silence, his dark red eyes grew sharper.
“Should I just kill them?” he asked without a hint of hesitation.
Bellatrix shook her head.
“Torture them until they beg for death.”
Her black eyes glistened. Leandro watched them intently, captivated by the way they sparkled like scattered gold dust.
Is she really a child?
The first image that came to mind was of Fabian’s eldest daughter, Livia. That little girl, who resembled a red fox, had possessed the nerve to look Leandro Bellatore in the face without a single tear. If he recalled correctly, Livia was six years old. But Bellatrix was even smaller than her.
Even accounting for the orphanage’s poor conditions, she was far too thin. At a glance, she looked no older than five. Her speech, however, was far more mature than that of most children her age. Words like ‘embezzlement’ and ‘torture’ were not things a child should even know.
Just then, Silas returned with the adoption documents. Leandro didn’t bother with praise, simply gesturing for his aide to hand them over. The papers contained Bellatrix’s personal information.
“You’re staying here.”
Just as Silas began to relax, thinking they would soon be returning to the territory, Leandro’s command came as a devastating blow. Bellatrix pitied the man’s despair, but Leandro was indifferent.
“This place is filthy. You should at least clean up.”
Silas opened and closed his mouth a few times before his shoulders slumped in defeat. His complexion turned as white as his hair.
“Make sure you clean thoroughly. Don’t leave a single speck of dust.”
Bellatrix offered Silas a bit of enthusiastic advice.
“While you’re cleaning, you should break their arms and legs! Whip their backs with a leather belt! Dunk their heads in dishwater! Shake them until every last speck of dust falls off! Make sure they can never get up again.”
Silas’s face turned as blue as his uniform. Leandro, on the other hand, looked quite pleased by her fiery spirit.
“Oh, but leave Teacher Constance alone! She was good to us.”
“The evidence of embezzlement is behind the picture frame, in the safe!”
The carriage began to move. Silas and the two knights who had been left behind stood silently, watching it disappear into the distance. Bellatrix stuck her head out the window, waving until the orphanage was completely out of sight.
“…Your Grace, she isn’t actually your secret daughter, is she?” Knight Manus asked hesitantly. Had the Duke scoured orphanages so thoroughly because he was searching for a hidden child? Bellatrix’s presence was that much of a shock. Not to mention, she shared the same black hair and black eyes as Leandro.
“You have a habit of saying outrageous things with a straight face,” replied Probo, another knight, though he privately agreed with his comrade’s sentiment.
Silas looked utterly exhausted. The knights pitied him.
“We should get started.”
If they wanted to return to the territory and rest, they first needed to carry out Leandro’s command—to ‘clean up.’ Silas’s eyes sharpened. There was a mountain of filth to dispose of.
Two days after leaving the orphanage, Bellatrix was finally free of the grime that clung to her.
During a stop at an inn, she washed herself three times in warm water before she was truly clean. Alessia, the only female knight in Leandro’s retinue, helped her.
Once she was clean, Bellatrix’s small body was revealed to be a canvas of scars. Scratches and bruises were everywhere, and across her back were several angry red welts, as if she had been flogged with a leather whip. Alessia immediately reported this to Leandro.
Upon hearing the news, Leandro ordered a knight to ride back to the orphanage and bring him every single person who had ever laid a hand on the children. He would deal with them personally.
The next day, Bellatrix was dressed in a soft blue dress and a thick, long fur cloak that Leandro had somehow procured. Alessia had helped her, neatly arranging her roughly chopped black hair with a red ribbon.
“I’ve never worn something like this before!”
Excited, Bellatrix spun around and eagerly asked how she looked. Even she had to admit she looked quite nice.
Alessia, who had helped her bathe, smiled warmly. Inside, however, her heart ached. This child had not only suffered in an orphanage but had never even worn proper clothes. Alessia had a younger brother around Bellatrix’s age, a fact that made the girl’s circumstances all the more heartbreaking.
Leandro, meanwhile, remained silent for a long moment.
“…Now you actually look like a person.”
When he finally spoke, his words were pure sarcasm.
“I was always a person,” Bellatrix shot back, clearly having expected a compliment.
“You’re not even pretty. What is there to compliment?”
“Aren’t you being too harsh? You’re my dad now.”
“And yet, you still call me ‘Mister.’”
“Because ‘Papà’ doesn’t feel natural yet!”
“Well, I’m not used to giving compliments, either.”
Leandro smirked, entirely unrepentant.
Irritated, Bellatrix puffed up her cheeks. But they were still so gaunt that the effect was more pitiful than cute. Leandro’s brow furrowed, the brief moment of levity evaporating.
“If you want to hear compliments, put on some weight.”
The only child Leandro had ever known was Fabian’s daughter, Livia, and Bellatrix was so scrawny he couldn’t begin to compare them. A sudden surge of irritation welled within him. The target of his anger was not Bellatrix, of course—it was the orphanage staff, whom he would soon be meeting in the dungeons beneath the Bellatore estate.