First Wish as a Lady

Mila and I stood anxiously in front of the duke's office.

The butler had brought me here, knocked on the door to announce my arrival, and then left.

From inside, I could hear the sounds of an argument, but no one responded to the knock. I had no choice but to wait.

After standing there for quite a while, boredom started creeping in. I didn't dare wander off, so I simply took in my surroundings.

From my current height, everything in the hallway looked massive, as if I had accidentally wandered into a giant's domain.

Tilting my head back, I noticed the door frame. It was made of polished sandal wood, so smooth and reflective that I could clearly see my own face in it.

Aww… So adorable.

No matter how many times I saw myself, it still startled me—was this really me?

My long, naturally wavy hair was soft and silky, with a faint golden shimmer, cascading over the shoulders of my pristine, puffy white dress.

My tiny face, no bigger than a palm, was radiant with a rosy glow—round, plump, and so soft-looking that even I felt the urge to pinch it just to see how it felt.

But the most striking feature was, without a doubt, my eyes—a pure, brilliant shade of gold.

The novel had described Ysabel's irises as molten gold, mysterious and dazzling, yet inexplicably sacred. Even the prince, upon first meeting Ysabel, had been so captivated by them that he momentarily forgot his manners.

I had already realized back in Lilymorn that I was extraordinarily beautiful in this life.

Now, dressed in an elegant little gown and carefully groomed, I looked as exquisite as a porcelain doll.

How could a child this beautiful be abandoned? I truly wondered.

I stared at my reflection, lost in thought. For a moment, I could almost see how the real Ysabel standing before the door of the man who would become her father, her face full of innocent joy.

How cruel.

CLICK.

The door suddenly swung open. I was still standing there, dazed, my head tilted up—completely unprepared to meet a pair of blood-red eyes.

Cedric stared at me for a few seconds before stepping back, putting some distance between us.

In his gaze, I saw nothing but clear disgust and hatred.

Why?

Ysabel had never failed him. If anything, it was Cedric who had let Ysabel down. His hatred made no sense, but then again, he was a madman, and madmen didn't do crazy things for a reason.

Lowering my gaze, I followed him into the room.

The duke sat behind his desk, sorting through documents. Even as I stood before him, he didn't bother to look up.

I was curious about what Duke Velmont looked like. In the novel, he had never actually appeared—by the time Cedric made his grand debut at eighteen, he had already inherited the title of Grand Duke. His father, Armand Velmont, had completely withdrawn from public life. This part of the story took place before the novel's opening scene.

I hesitated before bowing to the duke. My posture was probably incorrect, but no one would expect a six-year-old to get it right.

At last, he raised his head and looked up at me.

Jet-black hair. Blood-red eyes. A handsome yet gaunt face. Their genes were undeniably strong—Cedric was practically his father's younger version.

The only difference was that Cedric always wore a dangerous smile, while the duke's face was blank, weary, and filled with an unspoken sorrow.

A strange thought crossed my mind—

He has the vibe of a widower.

Then again, he WAS a widower.

Cedric's mother had died six years ago. Since then, the duke had fallen into despair, shutting himself away in the Duke's Castle and cutting the world off.

That was why, despite his young age, Cedric had managed to seize so much power within the estate.

"Sit," he said.

I struggled to climb onto the seat in front of his desk. Ever since my reincarnation, this had become a regular struggle—being a child was exhausting.

At this rate, by the time I reached adulthood, I might be strong enough to kill Cedric to with a single blow.

The thought made me chuckle.

I sat up straight on the seat, smoothed out my dress, and looked up at the duke. He rested his forehead on his hand, gazing down at me with a weary expression, as if unsure how to handle this situation.

"You don't have to worry about it, Father. I will take care of Ysabel's daily needs," Cedric said.

He should be around thirteen years old now. His voice was still clear and bright, surprisingly cheerful.

It seemed the duke wasn't even aware of the adoption. The novel had mentioned that after the duchess passed away, the duke lost interest in everything. It was unlikely he would have willingly taken in a girl as a political tool.

The duke remained silent for a long moment before finally sighing in resignation. "…Ysabel, right? From today on, you are my daughter. Anything you want?"

That was unexpected. I had assumed Cedric's obsessive nature came from either genetics or his father's influence, but now it seemed he had developed it all on his own.

What should I ask for? Money? There was no way they would just hand over money to a child; someone would end up managing it for me. Jewelry? That would probably get stolen by the servants and sold off, and then they'd blame me for losing it.

When I turned sixteen, I would have to survive in this world on my own. I needed something no one could take from me—something that would always belong to me.

"Your Grace, I would like a tutor," I answered.

Yes! Knowledge! That I can keep for myself, forever!

The duke seemed slightly surprised, though his expression quickly returned to normal. He had probably expected me to ask for toys or pets—something a typical child would want.

"…Alright. I'll have Wilfred select a suitable tutor for you."

That wouldn't do.

"I would like to choose my own. May I?" I asked.

My voice was soft, hesitant. I had no idea if the duke, who appeared calm and refined, had the same rabid heart as his son. Nervously, I twisted my fingers together.

The duke didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on my arm.

Following his line of sight, I noticed a large bruise on the back of my elbow. On my pale skin, it stood out sharply.

I quickly covered it up. It must have been from this morning, when Sister Wright had yanked me too hard back in Lilymorn. I bruised easily, which made it look worse than it was. Hopefully, the duke wouldn't think I was some troublemaking child.

"…Wilfred will send you a list later," he finally said.

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "If any tutor behaves inappropriately, report it to Wilfred immediately."

I was overjoyed. I immediately flashed the brightest smile I could manage.

"Thank you, Your Grace!"

In the years I had spent bouncing between foster homes, isolated and without support, I had learned an important survival skill—always let others see your emotions. Staying indifferent was a mistake!

"If there's nothing else, go rest." He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away a mosquito, then buried himself back in his paperwork.

Feeling satisfied, I hopped off the chair—almost falling in the process. I wobbled slightly but managed to steady myself.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the duke tense slightly, as if he had been about to catch me.

But the one standing right in front of me, Cedric, didn't move at all. His face remained cold and indifferent.

If I had fallen toward him, he probably would have stepped aside just to let me hit the ground.

What an unlikable guy.