At first, he had assumed she was just another low-born orphan. Her casual, cheeky remarks and bold behavior were a world away from the practiced decorum of a noble child. But after a single day with her, cracks had begun to form in that assumption. She handled a knife and fork with effortless grace, ate her meals without a single misplaced crumb, and—even in the heat of an argument—possessed an innate sense of when not to cross the line. Perhaps she had once belonged to a noble family. ...But she’s my daughter now. Even if her real parents were aristocrats, Leandro had no intention of sending her back. If anything, he would find them and scold them for allowing their child to end up in such a miserable state. Besides, Bellatrix was proving to be far more entertaining than he had anticipated. Time spent in her company was never dull. And, most importantly, she did not fear him. Her sharp tongue and audacious spirit were, he had to admit, well-suited for a daughter of House Bellatore. For the first time, Leandro thought he could understand why Fabian was always boasting about his children. A small, dry chuckle escaped him before he could stop it. No matter how precocious she was, she was still a child. After retching her guts out and groaning in misery, she was already back to her usual self. “Just wait a little longer,” he said, his tone casual. “We’ll be at the mansion soon.” Her stomach was empty from the vomiting, but Bellatrix nodded obediently. Her energy, however, remained undiminished, and her eyes sparkled at the mention of the mansion. Then, with a mischievous grin, she spoke. “Mister, your chest is really firm.” A muffled laugh came from where her head was pillowed against him. For the first time in his life, Leandro Bellatore had been propositioned by his own daughter. He felt a strange and unsettling conflict rise within him. Bellatrix pressed her nose against the carriage window, her breath fogging the glass as she took in the passing scenery of the Bellatore estate. The grim monikers of "den of monsters" and "land of eternal snow" seemed laughable now, contrasted with the peaceful landscape before her. For a territory rumored to be so remote and isolated, it was surprisingly well-developed. Paved roads stretched into the distance, glimpses of a large marketplace flickered between buildings, and lampposts lined the paths. She could easily imagine them casting a warm, welcoming glow when night fell. “This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like this!” “It’s still much smaller than the capital.” “I’ve never been to the capital, so I wouldn’t know,” she declared, pulling back from the window with a wide grin. “That means, for me, this place is the best.” Leandro found her logic ridiculous—but not unpleasant. Soon, the carriage rolled to a stop before the mansion. As the door swung open, Bellatrix was the first to jump out, her excitement palpable. Leandro followed a moment later, immediately scooping her back into his arms. “I’m not sick anymore.” He didn’t put her down. He had seen the way her legs trembled the moment her feet touched the ground. Inside the mansion’s grand entrance hall, the assembled servants bowed to welcome their lord’s return. But their rehearsed greetings faltered as they caught sight of the strange little girl in his arms. “This place is huge!” the child exclaimed, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. Her black hair and black eyes, a perfect match for the Duke’s, were tilted up in awe. “But mansions are always where the murders happen.” Her expression was so utterly serious that an eerie silence descended upon the hall. Leandro tilted his head slightly. “What?! Someone really died here?” she asked, her eyes wide. “There’s a dungeon in the cellar.” Bellatrix nodded, clearly impressed. “Oooh, torture chambers.” “Would you like a tour?” “There are probably bugs, so no thanks.” The servants stood frozen, completely overwhelmed by the disturbing conversation unfolding before them. At that moment, a brave soul stepped forward. It was Fabron, the butler who had managed the estate in Leandro’s absence. “Welcome back, Your Grace.” Fabron was a veteran of many years. He expertly masked his curiosity and focused on his duties. “You’ve done well overseeing things.” After the brief acknowledgment, Leandro issued his first order. “Summon the finest tailors and furniture craftsmen in the territory.” The sudden command made Fabron hesitate. “...Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but…” In all his years serving House Bellatore, he had never once questioned his master’s orders. “...may I ask why you require them?” “There isn’t a single suitable space for a child in this entire mansion.” Instinctively, Fabron’s gaze fell to the girl in his master’s arms. The child—who shared the Duke’s striking black hair and eyes—met his gaze with an alert expression, then offered a small, polite wave. Then, she bowed her head slightly and introduced herself. “No, that’s not right,” Leandro corrected her at once. “The name I gave you was longer than that. Did you forget it already?” “...Am I supposed to say the whole thing?” “Are you planning to introduce yourself with half a name for the rest of your life?” he asked, his tone scolding. After a brief pause, Bellatrix nodded several times. As she did, Leandro noticed the tips of her ears turning a faint shade of red. For the first time, she looked her age. A large hand suddenly landed on Bellatrix’s head, ruffling her hair. It was Leandro, patting her as if to say, ‘Well done.’ For the first time in her life, Bellatrix had been praised. Her face immediately flushed crimson, and she covered it with both hands, shaking her head wildly. Fabron adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose. “...I’ll inform the kitchen to prepare another meal.” Hiding his profound confusion, the butler returned to his duties. After instructing a nearby maid to see to the child’s food, he followed Leandro down the hall, his mind racing. “The Master came back with a child!” “She had black hair!” “He was carrying her the whole time.” From the youngest maids to the cooks, gardeners, and stable hands, the entire Bellatore estate was buzzing with a single topic—the child their Duke had brought home. “Did His Grace have a woman?” “Of course, he must have. A man with that face wouldn’t need to try very hard.” “Watch your mouth unless you want to find it on the floor.” “But he’s so intimidating…” “The Young Miss wasn’t scary, though.” One of the maids—the one assigned by Fabron to assist Bellatrix—had already met the girl in question. As she braided her own dark brown hair, she shared her impressions with a sympathetic sigh. “She was so skinny.” Anyone with eyes could see the girl had been neglected. Her frail body and messy, unkempt hair painted a clear, unforgettable picture of hardship. And yet, the child had greeted everyone with a cheerful smile. Even the stoic butler, Fabron, had taken pity on her, giving specific instructions that she was to be cared for with the utmost diligence. The other servants fell silent. They had heard rumors that the girl was from an orphanage, and now, imagining the conditions she must have endured, some clicked their tongues in disgust. A few even muttered curses at whatever institution had let her waste away. “But her round eyes were really cute,” the maid added quickly. “Kids are always cute.” “...Then she really is His Grace’s…?” Most of the servants were now convinced that Bellatrix was the Duke’s secret daughter. The only mystery that remained was the identity of her mother. Naturally, this led to wild speculation. “Maybe she’s the child of that noblewoman who used to send all those love letters? What was her name… Lady Lavinia, from the Count’s family?” “There was also that woman from the Moretti family.” “I heard Count Valerius’s daughter was interested in His Grace, too.” “She’s only six, you idiot!” While the estate drowned in useless gossip, Leandro had summoned three key figures to his office: Fabron, the butler responsible for the household; Titus, the vice-commander of the Cavalieri Cavalieri, the family’s elite fighting force; and Alessia, the woman who would soon be appointed captain of Bellatrix’s personal guard. To them, Leandro revealed the reason for Bellatrix’s adoption. “...That’s why you adopted her?” After hearing the absurd story, the three of them were left speechless. The reasoning was so impulsive, so reckless, that it bordered on madness. Fabron, in particular, looked ready to openly scold Leandro for his irresponsibility. Meanwhile, Leandro leaned against the window, gazing outside, utterly unbothered by their shock. “A child is not a pet, Your Grace,” Fabron criticized him harshly. It was as if the Duke had simply picked up a stray cat on a whim and decided to keep it as a toy. “Do you really think I don’t understand that?” Leandro’s sharp eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his face. The very idea of comparing Bellatrix to some common animal disgusted him. Still, Fabron remained firm. The Duke’s impulsiveness would not be good for the child. Amidst the tense atmosphere, it was Titus who broke the silence. “Are you absolutely certain she’s not related to you by blood?” he asked, rubbing his stubbled jaw thoughtfully. It was a known fact that only those of Bellatore blood possessed black hair. The trait was so rare in the empire that its appearance was impossible to ignore. It was only natural to assume Bellatrix was Leandro’s illegitimate daughter. Leandro did not deny the possibility outright. But at that moment, he had more pressing matters on his mind. “First, we need to fatten her up.” That, above all else, was what mattered. Fabron sighed heavily, finally accepting defeat. “Your Grace, what exactly do you plan to do with her?” “What else?” Leandro’s gaze drifted back to the window. “Raise her.” Fabron could not bring himself to suggest sending the child back to the orphanage. The girl had done nothing wrong. This was entirely Leandro’s responsibility, and despite his rashness, he seemed intent on fulfilling it. Within days, the estate was flooded with merchants, craftsmen, and furniture makers—all hired to prepare a proper living space for Bellatrix. A soft, luxurious bed was installed in her newly decorated room. A playroom was built beside it, its walls lined with storybooks and its floors piled high with plush toys. Across the hall, a dressing room was being prepared, soon to be filled with expensive clothes and jewelry. At least this is better than neglect, Fabron thought, forcing himself to accept the situation. “By now, rumors about the Young Miss must be spreading through the territory.”

Chapter 4: A Daughter of Bellatore