The Adopted Princess Hopes to Escape the Genre - Chapter 12
The Duke’s eyes widened in realization, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. Stroking his chin, he replied,
“Now that you mention it, I didn’t ask. My apologies. Do you have a name in mind that you’d like?”
“I’d like a name with ‘Se’ and ‘Ah’ in it.”
“ ‘Se’ and ‘Ah,’ you say….”
The Duke thought for a long moment before finally speaking, as though he’d found the answer.
“Lassetia..”
“……?”
“How about Lassetia.?”
Lassetia… a new name incorporating my original name, ‘Se-ah.’
“I like it. It sounds nice.”
“Good. From now on, you are Lassetia. Delphinium.”
“But we haven’t even written the contract yet.”
When I quickly drew the line, the Duke looked at me as if he found my sharpness endearing. His gaze, nearly intolerable to face with a sober mind, made me squeeze my eyes shut to cool my head.
It was still too early to make a final decision. I began to rein in my wavering resolve, which had been swayed by the mere prospect of a contract.
I needed to take my time to confirm whether this world’s genre was truly a family-regret story and ensure my safety was fully guaranteed.
Stay focused.
Contract
Lassetia’s Requirements
1. The Duke of Delphinium will actively cooperate to ensure that Lassetia adapts well to life in the Duke’s household.
2. Lassetia will be granted a fair opportunity to raise objections in cases of unreasonable treatment during her stay in the Duke’s household. Compensation will be provided in monetary form.
3. Lassetia will not be discriminated against in comparison to the Duke’s other children.
4. The Duke will not make unjust demands of Lassetia or force her to do anything.
5. The Duke will not expect anything in return for raising Lassetia.
“Duke.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Does the Duchess not live here? I was just wondering if it’s alright for you to make such an important decision on your own.”
I paused mid-contract to look up at the Duke.
I’d known from the start that he wanted to adopt me because I resembled someone precious to him. That much was obvious—it’s one of the most common clichés in romance fantasy.
Most cases involve the wife, who either had poor health or passed away giving birth to the youngest child, leaving behind a cherished daughter.
If it’s the wife, the situation is slightly better. When adopting a child resembling their late spouse, there’s a 99.9% chance the adoptee will be treated well.
On the other hand, adopting a child who resembles a lost daughter? That ends in an 80% chance of hanging. The remaining 19.9%? Death at the hands of the male leads.
What’s the difference between the two? I have no idea. It remains an unsolved mystery of romance fantasy clichés.
But if the daughter wasn’t dead and was merely “lost,” then things got a lot more complicated.
Because in romance fantasy, “lost” is just another way of saying, “They’ll return looking perfectly fine on the surface.”
Which side does this Duke fall on?
He had mentioned before that I resembled his daughter, but… who exactly is he projecting onto me?
Is he seeing traces of his wife in me, or is he seeing traces of his daughter?
“The Duchess passed away early, giving birth to our youngest daughter. And our Rose resembled her mother so much.”
“……”
“Now that I think about it, I couldn’t protect either of them.”
So it’s the wife, after all.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little insurance just in case.
Contract
Lassetia’s Requirements
1. The Duke of Delphinium will actively cooperate to ensure that Lassetia adapts well to life in the Duke’s household.
2. Lassetia will be granted a fair opportunity to raise objections in cases of unreasonable treatment during her stay in the Duke’s household. Compensation will be provided in monetary form.
3. Lassetia will not be discriminated against in comparison to the Duke’s other children.
4. The Duke will not make unjust demands of Lassetia or force her to do anything.
5. The Duke will not expect anything in return for raising Lassetia.
6. The real daughter returns, I am to be disowned. However, when I am sent away, I must be provided with enough money to sustain a basic livelihood.
“I hope you won’t feel guilty or see me as overlapping with both your wife and daughter.”
“…….”
“I might feel grateful, but it would be strange if you felt guilty toward me, Duke.”
As I placed the contract down on the table, I added,
“I’m not the Duchess, nor am I your daughter, Rose. Once you’ve thought it through, could you take a look at my conditions?”
The Duke of Delphinium picked up the contract and began reading through the demands I had written. After carefully reviewing it, he placed the document back on the table.
“Clause 6… I’d prefer if we revised it. Disownment? I can’t agree to that. Even if, by some miracle, Rose were to return, there’s no way I would disown you.”
But that’s not something you can say for sure right now, is it? It’s easy to hold onto me when your real daughter isn’t in front of you yet.
“Alright, I’ll revise it a bit.”
Following the Duke’s request, I crossed out Clause 6 and began rewriting it.
If the real daughter’s return leads to Lassetia being involved in any unpleasant situations, the Duke must believe Lassetia’s side at least once. If he cannot trust her, then she will be disowned.
(Examples include accusations of poisoning the real daughter, defamation against the real daughter, etc.)
The Duke read the newly revised clause I had written, his expression turning to one of disbelief.
“Poisoning… defamation?”
“It’s just a precaution. If someone becomes dissatisfied with me staying in this household after your real daughter returns, there’s no telling how they might act.”
“Well… that seems a bit extreme….”
“Now, Duke, you can add your own clauses as well.”
With a serious expression, the Duke began writing what he wanted under the clauses I had written.
“Have a look.”
Given how gravely the Duke had been moving his pen, I grew anxious, wondering just how unreasonable his additions might be. However, when I cautiously reviewed the final contract he handed me, it felt as though I’d been hit over the head with a hammer.
