This Three-Year-Old Is A Villainess - Chapter 78
I walked behind Balzac and Joshua as we headed to the greenhouse.
As we sat at the table, dishes began to arrive one after another.
Balzac had his arms crossed with a sullen expression, and Joshua seemed unbothered, focusing solely on his meal.
I rolled my eyes back and forth between the two.
‘These twins don’t seem to get along.’
They didn’t talk to each other, not just to me. I remembered they seemed to be arguing when I was hiding in the wardrobe.
‘Well, it’s none of my business.’
Siblings often grow up fighting, they say.
Just then, my stomach growled.
I realized in the shock of hearing about the twins’ arrival, I hadn’t eaten properly. I missed lunch when I fell asleep while playing hide-and-seek.
‘Better eat quickly.’
Hunger makes the supporting character penalty worse.
Already feeling intimidated by the little beasts, it seemed the penalty had already begun.
I picked up a spoon, about to dig into the delicious-smelling potato gratin, when Balzac spoke.
“You can read ancient languages, can’t you?”
Startled by his sudden question, I stammered a response.
“Ywes…”
Balzac looked at me skeptically.
“What a strange blessing.”
“…”
‘I wonder what impressive blessing he has… Oh, right.’
Balzac’s blessing was <Enhancement>.
He had awakened his aura at a young age, earning the title of the youngest aura user.
“Can you read this, then?”
Balzac handed me a small book, about the size of his hand.
I blinked in surprise.
“Thwis anshi wangoosh?” (This is ancient language?)
“…Yeah.”
I took the book and opened it.
Definitely ancient language—or Korean, to be precise.
But there was one problem.
‘The darn supporting character penalty.’
I could read it like a child reciting the alphabet, but I couldn’t comprehend it.
Balzac cleared his throat.
“Well, give it a read.”
“Um, um…”
“I found it in the restricted library. It must contain something incredible.”
Balzac warned me not to discuss it outside.
I began to read hesitantly.
“Swendoh way, watuw dwipping down. Wife, you’we tempy me— say Chawuls…” (Slender waist, water dripping down. Wife, you’re tempting me— said Charles…)
Bang!
Balzac suddenly stood up with a loud noise.
“What, what, what are you reading!”
Joshua also stared at me with wide eyes.
“It say hewe.”
“Don’t lie!”
I was just reading what was written, feeling wronged.
I frowned and spread the book open to show him.
“It say wight hewe wike thwis.” (It’s says that right here, like this.)
“Impossible! Read it again!”
“Chawuls say— Wife, twoday I am the pwey. So, yew negwijay…” (Charles said— Wife, today, I am your prey. So, your negligee…)
Crash, bang─!!
I turned towards the sound before finishing the reading.
A servant carrying the meal had dropped the tray in shock.
“What, what— What kind of book is the Young Miss reading?!”
A gust of wind whooshed through the greenhouse.
***
Balzac, Joshua, and I stood in a line in front of our father who had just finished the formal dinner with the evaluators.
Father held the book with a look of disbelief.
“So… you had your younger sister read this kind of literature?”
“…”
Balzac hung his head silently.
I glanced nervously at Father.
With my stomach now full, the supporting character penalty seemed to have subsided.
I understood the situation now.
‘Balzac didn’t know it was an e****c novel when he brought it.’
But why wasn’t he defending himself?
Father asked again, looking frustrated.
“Are you admitting it?”
“…”
“Balzac Astra.”
“I’ll accept any punishment.”
Father’s expression turned icy.
“You don’t think it’s worth explaining to me?”
Father must have realized it was ancient language when he opened the book.
He must have known Balzac didn’t intentionally make me read an e****c story.
But Balzac’s refusal to explain must have angered him.
“Please give me punishment. I’m prepared to do thirty-laps while fully armed around the barracks.”
“You…”
“Or should I fetch a whip for corporeal punishment?”
Balzac stood firm, facing Father.
“If that’s what you want─”
“Nwooo!”
I quickly spread my arms in front of Balzac.
It was still very cold with the late spring chill.
How would a child fare doing a thirty-lap run in such weather, and fully armed to boot? And more than that, whipping was obviously out of the question.
Balzac opened his mouth.
“Stay out of this─”
“Wife an Chawuls wong! Balzac not wong!” (It’s Wife and Charles who were wrong! Balzac did nothing wrong!)
