IHWL 03

chapter 03

Viaton was one of the very few people who could provoke Emperor Ron’s temper.

That also meant the emperor trusted him enough to let him get that close.

[Your Majesty, haven’t I repeatedly advised you to let go of your prejudices? These days, beans can grow where red beans are planted, and red beans where beans are planted.]

That statement applied to Viaton himself as well.

He had been born into a family of mages. Because of that, his path to mastering the sword had been filled with countless obstacles.

He had heard endless criticism from his family—how could someone of a mage’s bloodline stoop to learning something as crude as swordsmanship?

If not for his open-minded mother, he might never have learned the sword at all.

Since Ron had witnessed all of Viaton’s struggles, he couldn’t really deny it.

[That doesn’t sound like advice, no matter how kindly I interpret it.]

[Whenever you’re losing an argument, you nitpick my tone. You know that’s pretty cheap, right?]

[If you don’t like it, why don’t you become emperor?]

[And get executed for treason?]

[That doesn’t sound so bad.]

It was the kind of conversation that would make most citizens—or even court officials—collapse in shock if they overheard it.

Viaton suddenly seemed to recall something and continued:

[If it’s an innate chant, then that phenomenon makes sense. She recited a spell without even having mana, so it’s only natural she fell asleep. Of course, it may be hard for Your Majesty—who has devoted his entire life to the sword—to understand.]

Ron silently watched Isabel for a while.

“Mmm… mmm…”

This was something that had never happened in the past 500 years.

After a moment—

Blink!

Isabel opened her eyes.

“Good. My stamina’s recovered.”

She looked delighted.

[Does she… look happy to you as well?]

[That’s how it appears to me.]

[Why would she be happy?]

[I’ve heard that children capable of innate chants feel joy when they resonate with mana.]

[You’re not lying just because I don’t know, are you?]

[My mother taught me.]

[…A peculiar truth.]

Isabel really did feel good.

“I only napped for a bit, but I feel refreshed.”

This feeling—it was happiness.

Completely different from when she had been in the hospital.

Back then, no matter how much she slept, she was always exhausted. She didn’t even have the strength to move a finger.

It wasn’t an exaggeration—just trying to move hurt.

But now—

Just not feeling that pain made her incredibly happy.

“Huh?”

She felt her father Ron’s gaze.

She lifted her head to look at him—

and wobbled.

“My head is so heavy!”

But Isabel didn’t give up.

She let out a determined sound.

“Abyo!”

With sheer willpower, she steadied herself.

I’m coming up. Just wait there.

Heave-ho.

She stretched out her right arm.

It reached the next step.

“Now the left arm!”

She extended it too.

Both arms were now on the next step.

“Next… the right leg.”

She moved her leg.

“This is fun!”

Even climbing felt enjoyable in this baby body.

Her breathing grew a little heavy—but even that was exciting.

“I’m out of breath… but my heart doesn’t hurt.”

She felt like crying.

Her heart didn’t hurt. Her lungs didn’t hurt.

She didn’t have to breathe carefully anymore.

Before, even a deep breath would cause sharp pain.

But now—

Huff! Puff! Huff! Puff!

Even breathing like this didn’t hurt.

“Uoaa!”

Up she goes!

Isabel climbed with all her might.

To a one-year-old, the stairs were like a mountain.

“I did it!”

She reached the top—where Ron was seated.

She turned around.

Far below, many people were staring at her.

Their faces were filled with shock.

“Appa-mamma!”

She pronounced it relatively clearly.

She had practiced it for days.

She hugged Ron’s leg tightly.

Sniff, sniff.

“He smells nice?”

He did.

“And he’s warm.”

Warm.

A warmth she had never felt before.

Now that she was holding onto him, she could truly feel it.

“I really have a dad.”

Hehe.

She looked up at him.

“Wait… can I do this too?”

Her baby instincts took over.

Like a koala, she started climbing up his leg.

But no matter how strong a Bilottian body was—

a one-year-old was still a one-year-old.

She didn’t get far.

Thump!

She fell on her bottom.

Luckily, her diaper cushioned the impact.

“Hehe!”

Ron silently watched her laugh.

His eyes—watching his unprecedented daughter—shook slightly.

“Climbing failed.”

But that was fine. Babies fail sometimes.

She pointed at Viaton with one hand.

Her baby body couldn’t suppress the urge to show off.

“Bu-gwan ajusshi (Mr. Vice-Commander).”

I may be a baby, but I know exactly who you are.

That was the meaning.

Viaton smiled and bowed politely, placing a hand over his chest.

He greeted her.

She waved at her four brothers.

“Oppa-mamma.”

Because it sounded similar to “appa-mamma,” the “mamma” part stuck unintentionally.

A side effect of practicing “Abamama” for days.

Hehe—

She laughed.

Not because she chose to—but because she couldn’t help it.

They were just too dazzling.

Her second brother muttered,

“So having a younger sister… is this cute.”

Second brother, Sermon, had a weakness for cuteness—

without realizing he himself was even cuter.

Isabel smiled wider at him.

“You too!”

Her fourth brother—only five years old—snorted.

“Brother, aren’t I cuter?”

“Don’t be jealous of cuteness.”

“But I’m cuter.”

Second brother replied firmly,

“No. Isabel is cuter. Definitely.”

“…I’m upset.”

The fourth brother looked at her like a rival.

Isabel found all of this delightful.

It really felt like she had a family.

But Ron’s expression remained unchanged.

“I’ve created a variable. Now I just need to finish what I started.”

She had prepared for this day for a whole year.

“Come on, assassin—try showing up.”

He wouldn’t.

Because she wasn’t choosing Haeil—

she was choosing her father, the empire’s strongest sword.

No matter what, choosing the father was the ultimate romance-fantasy cliché.

…At least, that’s what she decided.

Heave, heave.

She jumped and clung to his leg again.

Like a koala, she climbed up—about 15 cm.

Her hand touched the sword at his waist.

“Se-lect!”

She had practiced that word too.

She clearly declared that she had chosen her father’s sword.

Viaton stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, it seems the princess has made her choice. Is that correct, Your Highness?”

“Mm! Mm!”

She nodded vigorously.

“She can already communicate with adults. Remarkable.”

“Mmm.”

Viaton wasn’t one to hold prejudices.

He didn’t find it strange to converse with a one-year-old.

“Why did you choose His Majesty?”

“Appa-mamma… strongest. Hehe.”

She got distracted by Ron’s face and laughed.

Viaton translated perfectly:

“She says she chose His Majesty because he is the strongest sword in the empire.”

“…Viaton. Are you truly claiming to be conversing with a child?”

This time, Ron spoke aloud.

Viaton responded respectfully.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“If anyone else said that, I would punish them severely.”

“A one-year-old can communicate, Your Majesty. Especially one capable of innate chanting. If you permit it, I will demonstrate.”

Viaton knelt before Isabel.

Even then, their eye levels didn’t match, but he smiled warmly.

Isabel nearly felt dizzy.

“He’s… glowing.”

A different kind of beauty from her father’s—

fresh, warm, and gentle.

His playful light-green eyes were pure like a child’s.

She burst into laughter.

Ron said,

“Then show me proof.”

Viaton widened his eyes and asked,

“Your Highness, you can understand me, can’t you?”

His radiant expression made her nod reflexively.

Then, in a tiny voice only she and Ron could hear—

almost like ventriloquism—

he whispered:

“His Majesty doesn’t seem to believe you can understand speech. He’s always had strong prejudices. Since he’s been exceptional from birth, he tends to assume others can’t do what he couldn’t.”

“Kya-ha-ha!”

“And just because His Majesty couldn’t communicate at age one doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Kya-ha-ha!”

Isabel clapped without realizing.

It was her way of strongly agreeing.

“Exactly, exactly.”

Ron had been extraordinary since birth.

A genius who succeeded in everything he set his mind to.

Everything he believed was right—and he was always ahead of others.

Because of that, he had a stubborn tendency to believe only in his own perspective.

And then—

her father slowly began to speak.