I played the role of an adopted daughter a bit too well. Chapter 22

Introducing Tundra to Hixson made my heart feel a little more at ease.

Having planted such a splendid seed as the male lead into the good soil of Hixson, it should grow robustly to become the strongest in this world.

Viola walked through the corridor with a light heart.

‘Huh?’

In the distance, someone was approaching this way.

They were wearing a striking red suit.

‘Tall, red suit, a face as white as if flour had been dusted on it, and a bob haircut that was hardly found on men. And those red lips.’

I could tell exactly who they were.

‘Seivan Marcos!’

Seivan Marcos.

He was one of Duke Heron’s close associates.

It seemed he spotted us too and hurried over with quick steps.

His movements were slightly suggestive.

“Oh ho ho! Who do we have here? Is it the newly arrived 6th Princess, Lady Viola?”

Seivan met Zeno’s gaze behind Viola.

“Zeno looking sexy as ever.”

“It’s been a while.”

Zeno lightly bowed his waist.

In the meantime, Viola opened her mouth.

“Are you Seivan Marcos?”

“Do you know me?”

Seivan Marcos widened his eyes.

He twisted a strand of his bob haircut around his finger.

“Has our Duke introduced me already?”

He rested his fingers, still twisting his hair, on his chin and slightly pouted his lips.

“Hmm. That can’t be true. The Duke isn’t that meticulous.”

“Not at all meticulous, so why do you like him?”

Seivan Marcos flinched slightly at that.

He readily admitted it.

“Because he’s handsome.”

Seivan Marcos had entrusting his body to the Winter Castle because he was enamored with the Duke’s appearance.

And thus, he became a close aide.

Duke Heron knew Seivan’s feelings too.

So he firmly rejected him.

“Seivan Marcos, I do not like men.”

“You don’t like women either.”

“I value your abilities highly. That’s why you’re by my side. Just don’t overstep the line.”

The Duke in the novel issues a chilling warning.

If you mess around, he’ll chop off your head.

“Dying for the Duke might be somewhat glorious.”

This world was a fantasy world, and it wasn’t one where being gay was welcomed.

Generally, there was discrimination, and in severe cases, one could be stoned to death.

Growing up as the Duke’s aide in such an environment meant that his abilities were extraordinarily exceptional.

Viola said, “You’re one of my father’s aides, right?”

“Yes, for now.”

“A magician and puppet master who has entrusted himself to my father out of affection. You’re much more handsome than I expected.”

“Did you study me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Not exactly studied, but I’ve read about you.

You do pop up occasionally.

You’re described as quite capable.

You can create masks using corpses, and you excel in disguises and makeup, and are even good at handling puppets.

Seivan smiled widely.

“How does the 6th Princess view me?”

While still twisting his hair, he added a line.

“Everyone says I’m disgusting.”

“Yeah. Disgusting.”

Viola, in the original work, plainly states it’s disgusting.

Seivan preferred to be straightforward and say it bluntly while still acknowledging the ability.

I decided to follow that flow.

Keep the dialogue similar, but change the details.

“That’s a heartbreaking remark.”

One corner of Seivan’s mouth curled up.

He didn’t seem too bothered.

“You’re just some broken pervert, aren’t you?”

“I often hear that I’m broken.”

Viola looked at Seivan blankly.

As a reader who used to be a fan of the work, I phrased a better exploration direction.

“Regardless of whether you’re a man or woman, it’s tacky to hit on a married man.”

“…What?”

Seivan’s eyes widened.

“Thinking about it, that’s true, isn’t it?”

“Whether you’re a man or a woman, I don’t care about that. But my dad is married, you know.”

“It’s just a political marriage.”

“Regardless, he’s married.”

He made vows to not one, but two wives.

“A marriage is a pledge and a vow to each other, right? Even excluding love as an emotion.”

“Hm. That’s also a point.”

“It’s not normal to worm your way into those pledges and vows to woo my father.”

Actually, Ah-rin didn’t quite like Seivan Marcos.

To reader Ah-rin, Seivan was like a scoundrel persistently pestering her favorite character.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure my father firmly rejected you.”

Seivan Marcos chuckled as if it was amusing.

“Do you often hear that you strike a nerve?”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re quite the type easy to hate.”

“Did I ask what you thought of me?”

“Didn’t you say I seem like some broken pervert?”

Viola grinned.

“If you were merely a broken pervert, my father wouldn’t have kept your head attached.”

“……..”

“You know the reason you’re still alive.”

“What do you think, Princess?”

“Because you’re useful.”

The Seivan Marcos in the work always gave it his all.

He feared the day his necessity would vanish for the Duke.

Thus, he constantly worked hard from the shadows.

“If the moment comes when you no longer need me, the Duke will surely throw me away without mercy.”

And so, Seivan lived tenaciously.

Giving it his utmost.

That earnest life where he tried his best was what Seivan Marcos truly valued.

“I think you’re a useful person.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

“And ideally, I hope you’ll be useful to me.”

Seivan bent at the waist.

His face was hidden from view.

Seivan was smiling.

‘I think you’re a useful person.’

Rather than empty comfort or encouragement, this was a genuine acknowledgment and respect for Seivan.

The true reader Ah-rin understood this and shook Seivan’s heart.

Viola’s words echoed in Seivan’s ears.

‘Ideally, I hope you’ll be useful to me.’

I wanted to ask.

‘Princess, are you really seven years old?’

It felt like she had an insight that pierced through a person’s essence.

Seivan straightened his back.

A laugh slipped out.

Just now, I recalled what Viola had said.

‘It’s not normal to worm your way into those pledges and vows to woo my father.’

No one had ever spoken to Seivan like that.

They just called him insane or broken and criticized him while whispering behind his back.

“That’s a truly good remark, Princess.”

No one had ever pointed out the impropriety of courting a married man.

If he were a woman, he would probably face the world’s condemnation.

For trying to make advances on a married man.

Logically, that would be the obvious thing.

Yet, Seivan was always attacked and scorned for different reasons.

That seven-year-old princess pointed that out.

She said something practically natural and so utterly obvious.

That seemingly trivial remark brought him great joy.

The princess frowned slightly.

“What are you staring at?”

“If it’s alright with you.”

Seivan proposed.

“May I do your makeup at tomorrow’s welcome banquet?”

“You? Why?”

“You said you wanted me to be useful to you. I want to show you my skills. I’ll make you shine brighter than anyone else.”

In that instant, Viola could see it.

‘Sc-scary.’

Those eyes weren’t ordinary.

They were the eyes of a mad artist filled with insanity.

The aura felt vicious, different from mere hostility.

Seivan’s eyes formed crescent moons.

He raised his arms high as if he were drunk.

A crazed obsession flickered in his gaze.

“Unparalleled arrogance, with brilliance of beauty unlike any other.”

“……”

This did not feel good.

“Those fierce eyes of the princess will be enhanced and made even more malevolent.”

‘……Did I have fierce eyes?’

I didn’t recall such a thing.

The feeling only worsened.

“Your cold expression, mingling arrogance and pride, embellished with the colors of magic, will add the ferocity of a wild beast.”

“……”

Seivan grinned mischievously.

“A deadly lily with poisonous thorns.”

“I’ll create an image of a ruler shining brighter than anyone else.”

Hold on,

Isn’t that a bit too grandiose?

“Containing the unyielding, yet all-consuming ferocity of a tsunami.”

Viola struggled to grasp what he was saying.

But one thing was clear.

These were lines filled with the artistic spirit of a madman.

“Isn’t that what you want, Princess?”

She read Seivan’s gaze.

It was saturated with madness.

It felt like rejection would be a mistake.

The moment I refuse, it would feel like he would throw a tantrum, crying: “Why are you rejecting me! Didn’t you say to give it my all? Didn’t you say to try hard? Didn’t you say to be useful!” while pulling out a knife to stab me furiously.

‘Sc-scary!’

I desperately concealed my true feelings.

I forced a chuckle.

“Looking forward to it.”

The legs hidden under the voluminous dress trembled in fear.

*

Viola, lying on her bed, repeatedly kicked at the air.

‘Ugh!’

This isn’t right. The master of transformation. The master of disguises. The creator of something from nothing—thinking about getting makeup from Seivan filled me with dread already.

It’s not just any makeup.

As Seivan described, it would transform me into a more feral wildcat, a greedy ruler, a bloodthirsty butcher.

That atmosphere would surely seep out through his magical makeup.

This is bad.

This is definitely bad.

I jumped up and stood in front of a full-length mirror.

‘I do look really pretty though.’

I look pretty.

I look cute. It’s true.

But behind that beauty, there’s an aura that’s hard to put into words.

Unsettling and gloomy.

How should I put it?

Like a budding killer.

‘Like a pretty yet ominous woman out of a horror film.’

Beautiful, yet it seems as if there would always be ominous BGM playing when I appear.

I tried to focus my eyes deliberately.

I gave a sly smile. Following Seivan’s suggestion, I tried to present an air of arrogance and pride.

There was a unique atmosphere. In this regard, I was truly born for it.

So if I were to receive Seivan’s makeup, this unique atmosphere would only intensify.

‘Haa. I hope this is alright.’

Just then, someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“What are you up to?”

Bichen hastily stepped back.

Her movements were like those of a quick weasel.

“Hehe. This is troublesome.”

At that moment, Viola felt like crying.

‘Why do I have a dagger in my hand………?’

A dagger was being held.

The heirs of Bellatu always carried a weapon somewhere within them.

For convenience’s sake, most take the form of a dagger.

Viola was the same. She carried a dagger strapped to her thigh.

‘Did I just swing my knife?’

It happened in the blink of an eye.

While I was fascinated by the mirror, ‘the real Viola’ seemed to have acted.

“Hehe. A knife. A knife.”

Bichen’s eyes narrowed. She seemed excited.