After a bustling day, Navia said goodbye in front of her bedroom.
"Good night, everyone."
As she politely greeted, Suleiman and Margaret waved their hands.
"See you tomorrow."
"Let's make a more plausible breakfast tomorrow."
At Suleiman's words, Margaret tilted her head.
"Don't we have to leave for the palace in the morning tomorrow?"
"We can have a meal together and leave slowly. Now, it's late, so you should go in."
Suleiman opened the door for her, and Navia entered her bedroom.
As the door closed with a thud, the conversation outside gradually faded away.
Navia leaned against the door and listened quietly as if listening to a musical performance.
An unknowing smile quietly hung on the corner of her mouth.
Breakfast together.
And dinner together.
Navia liked the atmosphere of preparing meals together in a noisy environment and eating informally with a hearty table set.
Until now, she was used to having meals in a glamorous dining room with an overwhelming atmosphere, sitting up straight and not making a sound.
Navia felt as if she had participated in a festival held in the capital all day today.
'If only every day was like today.'
The happiness that even the sting from the wound felt sweet, she wished it would last forever.
Before getting into bed, Navia secretly took a lamp and went into the next room.
A paper sign, made at some point, was hanging on the handle of the narrow desk drawer.
"Navia Barber Shop"
"Pfft. What is this!"
Navia chuckled softly and carefully held the paper sign with her fingertips before putting it down gently.
In fact, she had been overwhelmed until she received a reply that said 'barber,' but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Navia earned a whopping five silver coins today.
In the process, there was also Suleiman's sacrifice, which was not a sacrifice.
Recalling the time, laughter slipped out again.
'Suleiman's tense expression was amusing.'
Navia playfully insisted on fixing his hair. She had a strong feeling that she wouldn't get scolded for doing so.
'It would have been unimaginable if it were Agnes.'
If she had done such a thing, she would have been scolded for making a mess of his hair.
'Is this trust?'
Navia liked this barbershop, which was set up like a children's play area.
'I should take care of Margaret's hair tomorrow.'
Minerva might secretly want it too. She might not have had the courage to ask first, so Navia should ask her.
Navia returned to her bedroom and stacked the coins she received from Margaret today on the narrow desk.
The shining silver coins made her feel proud for some reason.
Navia climbed into bed, propped her chin on her hand, and whispered softly as she stared intently at the five silver coins.
"Even a small amount of money can be more joyful than earning ten gold coins."
Having lived eight lives in the wealthiest family in the empire, Navia had a different sense of money.
She had even managed a city's annual budget worth of money.
To Navia, five silver coins were a cute amount, but it was the happiest money she had ever earned.
'I wish tomorrow would come soon.'
Navia turned off the lamp.
The quickest way to make the next day come is to fall asleep quickly.
* * *
In the dark room, only a small, regular breath could be heard.
At that moment, the window opened, and a man covered in black entered.
He was an assassin sent by Nikan.
The assassin approached the sleeping Navia.
His steps were silent. The sharp blue blade in his hand shone eerily.
Just as the assassin was about to cut Navia's throat.
Snap!
The assassin's shadow rose by itself and choked his breath.
A man appeared in the pale moonlight coming through the window.
It was Lark.
"Gurgle!"
As the assassin struggled noisily, Lark reached out and covered his mouth.
Squeeze.
It seemed as if he could twist the assassin's jawbone with just the strength of his grip.
"Shut your mouth."
Lark warned the assassin with a deeply displeased expression and a low, cold voice.
"It's a child."
His already bad mood was completely ruined by the assassin who dared to enter his territory, emitting a murderous aura.
Moreover, the disgusting smell of magic power coming from the assassin stimulated his instincts.
Only Lark could smell the unique stench that came from manipulating human magic power in an abnormal way.
In this mood, he didn't want to deal with the assassin cleanly.
He was tormented by a cruel urge to tear his limbs apart while smelling the thick scent of blood.
The assassin struggled with all his might.
He felt that his opponent was not an ordinary human, someone beyond his abilities.
A primal fear surged.
The assassin had been unable to breathe for a while now due to the overwhelming pressure he felt throughout his body.
Lark raised his other hand.
First, he intended to gouge out those fearful eyes that looked at him like a monster.
As his red eyes were stained with a cruel murderous intent.
"Uhmm..."
At that moment, the sound of a child's sleep-talking was heard.
At the same time, the murderous aura that had been emanating from Lark disappeared in an instant.
The violent urge vanished like melting snow, and the assassin's existence became annoying.
There was no need to kill him messily. It would leave traces.
Snap!
Lark evaporated the assassin without a trace.
Crackle!
At that moment, a crack struck his arm once.
Lark barely swallowed a curse, his expression twisted in pain.
Cracks occurred more frequently when using powerful magic. This was one of those cases.
Lark took a short deep breath. At least now, the cracks were healing relatively quickly, and the pain was subsiding.
"I can't believe I'm babysitting."
As Navia rustled in her blanket, Lark immediately closed his mouth.
'Did she wake up?'
He approached Navia's bed and slightly lifted the black canopy.
Then, the child's figure shone brightly in the white moonlight.
The silver hair embroidered the black pillow and sheets like embroidery, drawing his attention.
'She's asleep.'
Lark was just swearing to himself that he would never come down from the third floor again.
But suddenly, he sensed an assassin's intrusion. The direction was the child's bedroom.
The moment he realized that, Lark found himself already in this room.
Unknowingly, he furrowed his brow and gently held Navia's silver hair.
His touch was like touching a burning flame.
'Why do you have silver hair?'
Out of all the colors, why this one?
He felt a strange atmosphere from this child that ordinary people couldn't possess.
There were parts that resembled him... like a 'reincarnator.'
'But that's impossible.'
Reincarnation is not magic.
It was the power of a god.
This child certainly had a very similar atmosphere to him, but she didn't have the scent of possessing divine power.
On the contrary.
'It's strange that I don't feel any scent at all.'
Even if they are not magicians, all humans have 'magic power' in their bodies.
However, he didn't feel a single bit of magic power from this child.
She was a mysterious child.
Throughout countless reincarnations, he had never seen such a being before. That's why he tried to force himself not to care, but it still bothered him.
It was just for that reason.
Lark turned his head as if he had no other interest.
Now, he would return to the third floor....
Suddenly.
His black silk gown was caught in a small hand.
"…!"
Navia was holding onto Lark's hem and murmuring.
He was at a loss for words.
"You're being annoying."
Should he shake off her hand harshly? Would the child wake up?
Would her eyelids lift, revealing red eyes similar to his own? As he thought about it, Lark felt a suffocating sensation.
'...But this is my house anyway, so what does it matter where I am? This is my room too.'
He sat down heavily on the bed, not shaking off Navia's hand, as if he were protesting.
He tried his best to prove with his whole body that he was not conscious of Navia. Then he blurted out.
"This is just the price of a cake."
Yes. That was the most appropriate reason.
Lark put a price on saving the child from the assassin and his current kindness.
The price of a cake, that's all it was worth. Although it had no taste.
He touched the black ribbon tied to Navia's hair.
'I did something that's not even funny.'
The black ribbon tied to the silver hair was cute, but Lark looked down on it with a sour expression.
'Does she think anything will change by acting like a child when she's not even like one?'
He added such a harsh criticism as well.
"I asked for a haircut, and you really did it. I'm afraid to say anything else, in case you do it again without any problem."
He scolded Navia with a voice full of spite.
Then, looking at her beautiful face illuminated by the moonlight, he inadvertently muttered.
"A foster daughter...."
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