004
I regressed to the moment when Marianne Alonso, my nanny, was expelled from the estate.
It was early in the novel, so I didn’t remember every detail clearly, but I did know that after Marianne was driven out, Branda stepped in to take over the role of caregiver. And that didn’t end well for Leticia—at all.
“You can rest easy now, Leticia. Your aunt is on your side.”
Branda gently caressed my hand, which had been tightly bandaged, trying her best to console me. She fed me all kinds of sweet desserts to soothe me—things like macarons, sugar candies, and puddings. The very things Marianne used to limit to one or two a day.
“I just knew this would happen. She should’ve disciplined her child, not laid a hand on you, over that silly girl…”
“…”
“It was probably that little viper Lucia who provoked you first, wasn’t it? That two-faced little snake always pretends to be innocent, but she’s always picking on you.”
These were the kinds of words Leticia had heard over and over in the original novel.
I knew they weren’t true. But I swallowed the macaron I had been chewing and nodded silently. Branda’s face lit up.
“Right? I knew it. My poor Leticia, how hurt you must’ve been…”
Her wiry, twig-thin arms pulled me into a tight embrace. I neither contradicted her nor tried to break free. Arguing now would only stir up more trouble. Besides, the decision about Marianne’s fate wasn’t Branda’s to make.
“The Count will be arriving soon, so I’ll be able to talk to him about that woman’s punishment.”
“…Can I go too?”
The question slipped out of my mouth, unbidden. Branda’s face twisted ever so slightly. But she quickly forced a troubled smile.
“I wonder if… the Count will be comfortable seeing you.”
“Why?”
“…”
“Is it because Father doesn’t like me?”
I asked just like a six-year-old Leticia would. Branda’s eyes widened, and then her brows curved downward in feigned pity.
“Oh, Leticia. Poor child.”
“…”
“Still, I’m sure he won’t allow that abusive woman to remain here. Now, just finish your dessert. Your aunt will take care of everything.”
She kissed me on the forehead before rising to her feet. The small table was still covered in untouched desserts.
…Had I already ruined this life too?
I stared at the sweets without touching a single one. The maids, nervously glancing at one another, tried to offer me cake and cookies.
“Miss, this is your favorite strawberry cake. The head chef made it just for you…”
“I don’t want it.”
White whipped cream brushed against my lips, but instead of accepting the cake quietly, I shook my head.
Marianne couldn’t be sent away. If she left, Branda would seize full control of the Blandot estate.
Of course, once her husband, Carlos, became the next head of the family, it was natural for Branda to take over as the lady of the house. But that hadn’t happened yet. Not while I was still underage and technically next in line to succeed the family.
“But hey… why is Aunt still staying here? Isn’t Uncle in the territory?”
The sudden question caught the maid off guard, but she soon replied carefully.
“The Count is extremely busy, miss… because of the subjugation of magical beasts…”
“Yes, yes. Since the Count is often away, the Madam came to stay to look after you, miss. The Viscount couldn’t come because he’s managing the territory…”
Their words felt like tiptoeing around something—as if they were deliberately avoiding mention of my father’s divine punishment.
Whatever the reason, Branda was here because of Father’s absence. Not that I could do anything about it—there was no way I could take over monster subjugation in the borderlands and force him to stay home.
…But at the very least, I could ask him not to send Marianne away.
In the original, Leticia never meets her father. She believes he hates her, because she isn’t his biological daughter.
But if that were really true… he would’ve cast me out of the mansion a long time ago.
Fabian wasn’t a good father. He had neglected young Leticia, leaving her behind to focus solely on slaying magical beasts.
But he also never cast her out—not even when she caused all kinds of trouble. And in the end, he desperately tried to save her.
Though their relationship was long strained, Fabian Blandot had never abandoned Leticia.
I knew that better than anyone.
“I want to go see Father.”
I jumped down from the chair. The startled maids hurried to stop me.
“Wh-what? But miss, the Madam…”
In this house, the person the servants feared most was Branda. That was only natural—Carlos, my uncle, had the highest chance of becoming the next head of the family, not me. So none of them wanted to get on Branda’s bad side.
But I was Leticia Blandot, the Count’s daughter—and I was six years old.
And six was… the perfect age for throwing tantrums.
“I wanna see Daddy! I wanna go! I wanna goooo!!”
I stomped my feet and screamed at the top of my lungs. The maids flailed in panic, unsure what to do, but I didn’t care.
“M-miss, you’re a good girl, right?”
“The Madam will speak to the Count soon, just wait a little longer—”
“Don’t care! I’m going! DADDYYYYY!! WAAAAAH!!”
I threw myself on the floor and began flailing my arms and legs wildly.
Sorry, but just for today… let me be a brat.
Just today!
“The Power of a Tantrum”
The tantrum had worked wonders.
Though clearly flustered, the maids ended up leading me to my father. A wave of belated shame washed over me, but I knew they’d much rather deal with a temperamental child for one more day than let Branda tighten her grip over the household.
As we descended the stairs, one step at a time, the sharp edge of Branda’s voice grew louder.
She was still clinging to Father—who hadn’t even had time to change out of mourning clothes—and shouting at him.
“…That woman took advantage of your absence to abuse Leticia. All she ever cared about was protecting her own child!”
“…”
“Do you have any idea what state Leticia is in right now? Her hand is wrapped in so many bandages she can’t even hold her utensils on her own!”
In the grand foyer stood my father, Branda, and a few servants. Marianne was kneeling silently on the floor, her mouth firmly shut.
Why isn’t she saying anything?
While rare, it wasn’t unheard of for nannies or tutors to be given the authority to administer corporal punishment. If she simply explained that it was discipline for Leticia hitting Lucia, she could at least be granted some leniency…
“…Is it true?”
My father’s voice rumbled low and quiet.
Even after hearing that his daughter had been abused, his tone showed no real alarm. If anything, it bordered on cold indifference.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who had once wept, begging for his daughter’s life on the day of her execution.
“Answer me, Marianne.”
He pressed again. Still, Marianne gave no reply. My father let out a tired sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
“If you won’t defend yourself, I’ll have no choice but to accept Branda’s account as truth. So—”
“—Then go ahead.”
The quiet, worn-out voice rang out at last.
Startled, I turned to Marianne. And in that moment, I understood—why she had once been falsely accused of abuse and expelled from the estate over nothing more than a palm strike.
“It’s true I hit the young lady. It’s also true I left a mark on her body. So you don’t need to ask me anything else.”
Marianne spoke in a voice devoid of strength, her head bowed low. There was no fire in her eyes, no life at all. She looked like someone who had already resigned herself to being cast out—completely unbothered by the thought.
Branda, seizing the moment, pointed a triumphant finger at her.
“There, you see? Get rid of this woman right now—!”
“No! You can’t!”
I ran down the stairs in a panic.
At the sound of my voice, all three turned to look at me. Behind me, the maids shrieked in alarm.
“Miss, please don’t run!”
“Slow down—kyaa! Miss!”
Perhaps it was because I wasn’t yet used to these short legs, but my knee buckled mid-step, and my center of gravity tilted forward.
Thud! Clatter!
With a loud crash, I tumbled headfirst down the stairs.
“Leticia!”
“Miss!”
Their voices echoed in desperation.
I curled into myself at the bottom of the steps. It hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes—which, I suppose, was to be expected from a child’s body. Then again, even adults would hurt if they fell down the stairs like that.
“Are you alright, Leticia?”
“Oh, miss—are you hurt?”
Both Father and Marianne rushed to lift me up.
“Call the physician—now!”
Father turned to the head butler and gave the order.
In the meantime, Marianne was already running her hands gently over my body, checking for injuries. Branda, having missed the chance to reach me first, was now berating the maids, shouting and pointing furiously.
“You should’ve stopped her from running! It’s your fault Leticia—”
“Ella and Fine did tell me not to run!”
I shouted back loudly, then quickly turned to Marianne. Her face, clouded with worry as she examined me, froze the moment our eyes met. She hesitated, then slowly withdrew her hand.
But I immediately reached out and clutched her sleeve.
“Don’t go, Nanny.”
