The study was her first time visiting, and it was perfectly quiet.
Unlike the grand library of Arachrene Ducal Castle, this room was filled exclusively with books that Pernoa needed — every shelf chosen with purpose.
It’s cozy.
A faint scent of natural wood drifted through the air, giving the space a warm, unhurried atmosphere.
Where’s Papa?
The study was larger than she’d expected, and she couldn’t spot him at a glance. She wandered slowly past the tall bookshelves, turning her head this way and that.
Then, beyond one of the cases, she caught sight of a white sofa and a glass coffee table.
Pernoa was seated there, a cup of tea in hand, reading a book with a quietly focused expression — the look of someone deep in something important.
If I go over now, I’ll be interrupting…
Rosinante had said it would be fine, but Pernoa looked busy. Maybe coming here had been a mistake.
Riersha had just begun quietly inching backward when a voice stopped her.
“Were you planning to just peek and leave without a word?”
“Eek.”
Her shoulders shot up. She spun around.
Pernoa had already closed his book and was watching her, his gaze calm and unhurried.
“Are you… not busy, Papa?”
“I am busy.”
“…Then I’ll come back later.”
She gave him a careful, apologetic look and began retreating — but Pernoa’s red eyes narrowed slightly.
“I won’t be able to concentrate anyway. Come here.”
“…Yes.”
He tilted his head toward the sofa across from him.
He was dressed differently from usual — a white shirt, black trousers, nothing elaborate — and yet he looked impossibly elegant. Riersha hesitated for just a moment before darting over and plopping herself down right next to him.
“Hm?”
“Hehe.”
“…”
She had not sat across from him as he’d gestured. She’d pressed herself cheerfully against his side instead. One of Pernoa’s eyebrows rose, slow and deliberate.
“So you know you did something wrong.”
“Yes. I did somethin’ wrong.”
He tilted his head with an intrigued look.
“Even so, my mood hasn’t fully recovered.”
“…Still?”
“I have a great deal on my mind because of a certain troublesome daughter. I’m still deciding what to do about it.”
Riersha’s brow furrowed in distress.
This is bad. He’s still not over it.
Pernoa had been quietly displeased ever since the incident with Oberon. Not only had Riersha demanded — without warning — that Oberon be released from Arcmund’s custody, she had promptly turned around and made him entirely her own.
Pernoa had watched it all unfold and had objected clearly.
“No.”
But when Arcmund gave his approval, Pernoa had no choice but to step back. He seemed to be taking a wait-and-see approach — Oberon still wore the mana-suppressing cuff, and Riersha’s dedicated knight remained by her side.
What do I do?
Riersha swung her feet idly in the air, her small mind working furiously.
Pernoa watched her in silence for a moment. Then, faintly, he smiled.
“But it’s all passed now, so stop making that worried face.”
“Really?”
Her head snapped up, ears almost perking.
Just then, the study door opened and a maid stepped in. Acting on Rosinante’s instructions, she had brought a tray of child-friendly sweets and tea.
A short while later, the maid quietly withdrew.
Pernoa picked up a small fork — a child’s fork — and speared a strawberry. He held it gently to Riersha’s lips.
“Open up.”
“Ah—”
She opened her mouth as wide as it would go. The strawberry, crowned with a dollop of fresh cream, filled her cheek until it bulged round and soft. She chewed slowly, and a burst of sweet, fruity scent bloomed on her tongue.
Pernoa watched her eat with quiet satisfaction before asking, unhurried:
“So then. What brings our dear young lady to visit today?”
“Papa.”
“Mm.”
“Papa.”
“Mm.”
She called to him in her softest, most wheedling voice, and he responded each time with a small, patient nod. Then he let out a short, wry laugh — quietly amused at how naturally he’d learned to respond to a child.
Riersha swallowed the last of her strawberry.
“I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
She thought back to the conversation that had brought her here — what she’d been asked to do.
It had been early that morning, just before Oberon left the ducal castle. Now officially acting as Riersha’s representative in the outside world, he had reviewed the ledger and spoken bluntly.
“Listen carefully, Lady Riersha. Ten billion gold is nowhere near enough.”
“…Is it really that little?”
Ten billion gold was more than most people could earn in an entire lifetime of hard work. She had assumed it would be enough to do anything she could ever want.
“Simply maintaining your estate will cost at least three billion gold. This castle, as it happens, is one that His Grace has invested in very heavily — money flows out of it constantly.”
“…That much? And that’s not covered by Grandfather?”
“His Grace will shoulder it for now, but you must be seen managing things yourself. Besides, no one can predict the future — you should be building up a substantial emergency reserve. The more the better.”
Oberon had not minced words. In that moment, every inch of him was the former chief aide to the Duke of Arachrene.
“I don’t know exactly what business you have in mind, but no one runs a business on their own money alone.”
“Then what do I do?”
“You seek investors.”
Investors.
At that word, Riersha’s eyes had gone wide and bright.
“If someone believes your venture has value, they will put their capital behind it.”
“B-but I’m only four years old…”
“You have formidable allies, do you not? Everything at your disposal must be put to use.”
Allies.
He meant Pernoa and Arcmund, of course.
To attract investment, she would need to lay out her plans and go to them — and come back with more funding. That was what he was telling her.
Right. Thinking ahead to everything she intended to accomplish, seven billion gold truly would not be enough. Looking at it long-term, she would need far more.
Riersha pulled herself back from the memory of that morning and fixed Pernoa with a resolute gaze.
“Papa. I’d like you to invest in me.”
“…Invest?”
“Yes!”
Pernoa’s expression was one of pure bewilderment. He clearly hadn’t anticipated the word invest coming out of his daughter’s mouth. His red eyes blinked slowly — he was, quite evidently, taken aback.
“The theater troupe you gave me for my birthday — I want to run it properly.”
“…And?”
“I need a lot of money.”
Now that he understood why she’d come, the corner of Pernoa’s mouth curved upward.
“If you want to take my money, there’s a price.”
“…”
“Especially since you’ve come to talk business on my day off — that doubles the rate.”
Riersha appeared to think this over very carefully before venturing, cautiously:
“A kiss…?”
“Hm.”
“Two?”
Two small fingers spread open.
Pernoa burst out laughing — a full, genuine laugh.
When it faded, he straightened.
“All right. Let’s hear what your plan actually looks like.”
⁂
Riersha’s plan was as follows.
To begin with — the Kadimo Troupe, the most celebrated theater company in the Declair Empire, which Pernoa had given her as a birthday gift.
She intended to run it in earnest.
More specifically — in a way that would benefit House Arachrene.
Papa wants to put Isierd on the Crown Prince’s throne.
When she thought about how she could help with that, the answer that came to her was Kadimo.
The troupe was enormously popular throughout the empire. Announce a new performance, and tickets would sell out in a flash.
“I want to use a play to make Isierd known to the people.”
“…The Prince?”
“Yes.”
She planned to create a performance that was so widely seen and so easily understood that every citizen in the empire would know of Isierd’s existence — making it impossible for the Emperor and Empress to ever deny him.
“That is… genuinely enticing.”
“Right?”
“This isn’t just big talk with nothing behind it, I hope.”
“It’s not!”
Riersha shook her head with complete confidence.
“I can be ready.”
“Then write up a proper business proposal and bring it to me. I’ll review it with an open mind.”
Riersha’s face lit up at his words.
“Oh, but one thing.”
“…?”
“There seems to be a rumor that someone has been sneaking into the Prince’s residence without my knowledge.”
She went very still.
The knight who had spotted her when she’d gone to deliver the picture book must have reported it to Pernoa. Her face fell into quiet dread — was he about to tell her never to visit Isierd again?
She was bracing herself with a look of pure worry when — tap — something flicked her lightly on the nose.
“Ah?”
“Don’t get caught, Riersha.”
So as long as she didn’t get caught, it was fine?
Implicit permission had just been granted — she could still visit the Prince’s residence. Riersha’s face broke into a radiant smile.
