The Icy Emperor

"Finally! I'm free!"

With a delighted grin, Lady practically hops over to where her and Maximilian's designated table is, celebrating the end of an hour-long skit that she has been forced to take part in.

The chair is a bit too high for her to simply sit on. So, she still needs to climb her way up there to get her much-desired rest. Yet, even when she finally manages to settle down, she finds that the height of the table before her has brought back the same problem.

They've forgotten that she's still only a midget, it seems.

"Daddy hasn't gone back yet. Nobody's around to ask help from, either…" she mumbled to herself as she looked back at the crowd before slightly perking up as she realized that she called her adoptive father 'Daddy' again.

"Right. I've been told several times to stop calling him that, and since I don't enjoy being glared daggers at, I should really comply. Still, addressing him as 'Father' even when I'm just on my own doesn't seem to sound right. I should think of a fitting nickname for him as revenge, at the very least."

Lady takes a moment to think about what to call Maximilian with.

She crosses her arms and tilts her head to the side, absorbed in her thoughts. That's until she sees Maximilian making his way towards her, having already finished greeting their relatives.

As she watches him stride forward, unknowingly drawing attention with that simple action alone, she imagines sparkles and glitters shining all around him – almost like a scene straight out of those novels she loves to read.

'Woah. So cool…' she thought in awe and wonder before slumping and sighing in dismay as she recalled that he was not really what he first seemed.

'Such a shame that he's frozen cold to the core, too. Maybe I should call him the 'Emperor of the Ice Empire' or something - probably Emperor, in short.'

Satisfied with that, Lady eventually decides to turn away. She leans back as she looks at the crowd once more, making herself comfortable in her seat. Maximilian was just about to say something when she suddenly averted her gaze and started acting like he was not there. He raises a brow at what he sees then – for a six-year-old, she is oddly self-absorbed.

The way his adoptive daughter observes her surroundings doesn't seem to reflect how a girl her age normally does it. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips locked in a thin line. It gives him the impression that whatever she's thinking is too deep and heavy for a child like her to bear.

'Ughhh… Crap. I feel like crap.'

And deep and heavy it is.

Unbeknownst to Maximilian, Lady is silently guilt-tripping herself.

While examining the crowd, she found herself beginning to regret how she created the world of 'Princess of High School' since she was totally not expecting how different it would turn out to be from what she imagined. The truth was, she had always been into the whole 'poor-to-rich' troupes and 'billionaire-and-commoner' clichés in stories since she enjoyed reading the various portrayals of a fancy life.

To put it simply, Lady likes to fantasize about what living in luxuries feels.

'Now, I regret it…' she grimaced, pouting and huffing.

'When I was writing, I imagined that the whole experience of living a rich life was completely out of the world – my world, at least. The only things I kept thinking about were the fancy cars, gourmet food, expensive dresses, huge mansions, and all that high-class crap. Now that I've apparently transmigrated in my book, though, I've realized that it's no fun after all. This is just not my stuff.'