IHWL 02

Chapter 02

My mother would often look at me and sob, saying she was sorry.

Today was no different.

“Ma-ma!”

I reached out my hand.

“Ma-ma.”

I smiled brightly to show her she didn’t need to worry.

But the more I did that, the harder she cried.

Pat, pat.

I lifted my short, chubby arm and gently patted her arm.

Ah… these sausage arms are heavy.

“Isabel… are you trying to comfort me?”

Nod.

I couldn’t speak, but body language is a universal language.

My mother looked startled.

“Can she… understand what I’m saying?”

Nod.

This wasn’t the first time I’d given this signal.

“Nau! Mau auu ieo (I can understand you)!”

My mother turned to my nanny, Ruruka, and asked,

“Does this child really understand me?”

“I believe she does.”

Ruruka lowered her voice.

“To be honest, I haven’t told anyone. They’d just say I’m talking nonsense.”

“But… it really seems like Isabel understands us.”

“I think Her Highness is a genius.”

My baby body reacted intensely to the obvious praise.

Without realizing it, I clapped my hands.

“Kyaha!”

“See? She likes being praised.”

My mother hugged me tightly.

“Even if you’re not a genius, it’s fine. Just grow up healthy.”

A few more days passed.

Once I started understanding language, my pronunciation gradually improved.

There was a tradition in the Bilottian imperial family.

It was called the “Selection Ceremony,” similar to a baby’s first birthday grab in Korea.

And today was the day.

Ruruka, who knew I could understand, whispered to me,

“You just need to choose the sword you want the most, Your Highness.”

“Mm.”

“I can’t wait to see how surprised everyone will be.”

Her eyes sparkled with pride.

She looked like an enthusiastic parent proud of their gifted child.

“The banquet hall doors will now be opened.”

The attendants opened the doors, and Ruruka carried me inside.

Ah—so bright.

As a one-year-old, my eyes were still sensitive, and I wasn’t used to the dazzling chandelier light.

Far ahead, my father and mother sat side by side at the head table.

Behind them stood my father’s aide and closest friend, Sir Viaton.

Next to my mother sat my four older brothers.

“Oh… my… god.”

It was my first time seeing Viaton and my brothers in person.

This had to be heaven.

“I sincerely thank whoever made this possession happen.”

From my father, to his aide, to my brothers—was it really okay to look at faces like those for free?

Even if you saw them in passing from a speeding train, you’d know they were ridiculously handsome.

How could people like that even exist…?

The nanny set me down.

The floor felt soft.

“Ooh, a red carpet!”

A long red carpet stretched out in front of me.

On both sides stood the knights of the Bilottian family in perfect lines.

Their swords were drawn and crossed, forming something like a forest of blades.

“Ooh…”

So cool.

They radiated a solemn, overwhelming presence—truly fitting of Bilottian knights.

“Are they models or knights?”

This world was strange.

It wasn’t just the knights— even the attendants were far above average in appearance.

It was a world overflowing with beautiful people.

With visuals like this, I could enjoy eye candy for all 21 years of my life.

“At the end of the red carpet… the swords should be waiting.”

The great sword “Haeil,” symbol of Bilottian.

And ten other lesser swords.

“All princes of Bilottian have always chosen Haeil.”

It supposedly proved their bloodline.

“Everything’s fine… except…”

Today, I had to survive my first life-threatening moment.

There existed an organization called the “Sword Forest Institute.”

It was made up of founding noble families who had helped establish Bilottian and held immense power.

Among them were hardliners who refused to acknowledge a princess.

They would never allow a girl—who couldn’t learn Bilottian swordsmanship—to hold Haeil.

“The moment I touch Haeil, an assassin will jump out, right?”

According to the novel, Isabel survived “by luck.”

Something about the blade barely missing her.

But I wasn’t the original Isabel.

If survival depended on luck, then bad luck meant death.

“No way I’m dying.”

Absolutely not.

I clenched my tiny fist.

With faces like those around me, how could I die so unfairly?!

“What about Milkis? Macarons? Meat! Tteokbokki!”

Too unfair.

I was going to enjoy these 21 years to the fullest.

“I need to create a variable.”

Things had to play out differently from the novel.

The more variables, the more the outcome could change.

Crawl, crawl.

Walking was still impossible, so I crawled forward.

“Variables!”

Along the way, I saw small stones—magic stones.

They were traps that would explode slightly when touched.

Babies had to avoid them to reach the destination.

“Hehe. Nope.”

I ignored them completely.

Eventually, I reached the end where more than ten swords were embedded.

This place was called the “Hall of Swords.”

My father’s voice rang out.

“Choose your sword.”

I sat down for a moment to think.

“The moment I grab a sword, an assassin will appear.”

Yeah… not grabbing one.

If I pick Haeil, an assassin appears.

If I pick another sword, I’m deemed unqualified.

“This is where you go with clichés.”

If this were a typical romance fantasy, I’d pick the founding emperor’s sword.

But in a romance fantasy…

you choose the cold, aloof father instead.

Forget the symbolic sword!

Let’s fulfill the trope: the cute daughter chooses her intimidating father.

And it wasn’t a bad justification.

After all, my father was the strongest swordsman in the empire.

“Ungaa!”

But my body wouldn’t move well.

Fear of the assassin froze me.

“I need to forget about the assassin first.”

A baby’s body could only focus on one thought at a time.

Thinking about the assassin made me too scared to move.

So I had no choice—

I started singing.

“Gum-e, sup-eul, jina-seo… eung, eung, gieo-seo…”

(Through the forest of swords… crawl, crawl, let’s go.)

Focusing on the song made me forget the fear.

Only then could I move again.

“Wow… these steps are huge.”

They were designed for adults.

Luckily, no assassin appeared.

“Ubuh! Ubuh!”

“I climb… to the top!”

Come on, courage!

I pushed with my legs.

Ha!

I climbed one step.

Struggle, struggle!

My leg dangled in the air.

I pushed with both arms.

Ugh…

Success.

“I did it!”

I climbed one whole step on my own.

“So tired…”

Let’s see… about 21 steps left.

“I need a break.”

Maybe I used too much energy.

Sleepiness rushed over me.

“This is… way too… sleepy…”

My vision blurred.

Snore… snore.

Seeing Isabel fall asleep, the scholars from the Sword Forest Institute were speechless.

Empress Serna covered her mouth with both hands.

“What do we do…”

No adult was allowed to interfere in the Selection Ceremony.

Everyone could only stare blankly at Isabel.

Ron watched his sleeping daughter with emotionless eyes.

Using mana, he sent a private message to Viaton.

[Are all girls like this?]

No girls had been born in Bilottian for 500 years.

No one knew.

[I’m not sure either.]

Viaton, one of the strongest swordsmen in the empire, responded calmly.

He had been Ron’s close friend since childhood.

[She was muttering strange sounds earlier. What was that?]

Viaton thought carefully before answering.

[It is likely an instinctive magic chant.]

“Crawl, crawl… through the forest of swords…”

It had a clear rhythm and tone.

[A one-year-old memorizing a spell?]

[Rare, but it does happen. In the Mirotel Magic Federation, they call it an ‘Innate Chant.’]

[Nonsense.]

[My own mother did it at that age.]

[…Interesting.]

Viaton’s mother had been a great mage.

She had cared for Ron like a second mother.

Ron paused at the mention of her.

But he still wasn’t fully convinced.

[She carries Bilottian blood. How could a princess of the sword empire use innate magic chants?]

Viaton’s reply—

was quite something.