This Three-Year-Old Is A Villainess - Chapter 82
***
Genera got more energetic.
At first, he couldn’t even drink water, but now, he was eating well.
“Eat a wot.”
As I moved the fodder closer, Genera nuzzled his face against me, making a purring sound. I gently patted his face.
“What’s this? I’ve never seen KingGodUltraGenerationWildHorseRunningAcrossThePlains act like this.”
According to the Monster Encyclopedia, snowfield horses were particularly sensitive to human emotions. They’re the first to charge at anyone harboring fear or murderous intent, but they are incredibly gentle towards those with positive emotions.
“I wike Genow.”
Balzac looked dumbfounded but not displeased. After all, who would dislike someone fond of their pet?
“The other cousins ignore him ’cause he’s small.”
Balzac grumbled.
“They don’t know how fast KingGodUltraGenerationWildHorseRunningAcrossThePlains can run. Faster than any thoroughbred they own.”
That makes sense.
As a snowfield horse, or even among monsters in general, it’s only natural that Genera’s speed is top-notch.
“Genow gonna get huuuge. He’s still baby, tha’s why.”
Balzac’s face brightened instantly.
“Right? I knew it’d grow big because of his large hooves!”
‘Ponies don’t grow that big either.’
But as a snowfield horse, he’s going to be enormous in the future.
Once a snowfield horse reaches adulthood, it would grow up so much that not even an adult horse could compare.
Balzac coughed.
“Maybe before he gets too big… I could let you ride him?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, once he’s fully grown, a tiny thing like you won’t get a chance to ride him.”
“Bwut adowts say widing howsey is dangeywous fow kids.” (But the adults said that riding horsies is dangerous for kids.)
I’ve always wanted to try riding a horse. There were no stables in the 12th Tower, and in the Duke’s main castle, I had to behave, so I never got near one. I considered trying once I came to Daymond’s jurisdiction, but…
“Ah, oh dear…”
“Young Miss, you’re still too young to ride…”
People fussed and worried, so I gave up.
‘Yeah, I guess three is too young to ride a horse.’
Even if Genera was unusually small now, it’s still risky.
As I thought this, Balzac said,
“KingGodUltraGenerationWildHorseRunningAcrossThePlains is special. Even a little one like you can ride it.”
“How?”
“He’s enchanted. You know about magic?”
Of course. In a fantasy world, it’s indispensable.
I once dreamt of going to H*gwarts.
Anyway, the magic in this world is special.
‘It’s closer to alchemy, I suppose.’
It’s impossible to create something from nothing. For instance, to use fire magic, you need firewood.
Most mages apply complex formulas to their Blessing Stones to activate spells.
‘That’s why blessings are special.’
You can activate them out of nothing.
“Right when Genera was born, a protective spell was cast on him. So even a child wouldn’t get hurt riding him.”
Such a spell must be incredibly complicated. It’s impressive.
As I blinked, Balzac excitedly said,
“Uncle Lysian was going to give him to me as a gift…!”
—He stopped abruptly, his face visibly stiffening.
It must be difficult to mention his biological father (Lysian), who allegedly tried to poison his adoptive father (Daymond).
Especially here in the Jurisdiction of Daymond.
‘It must’ve been hard for a little one to worry about such things.’
I know that feeling all too well.
When I was little too, I deliberately tried never to mention my real father.
I was afraid it would hurt my adoptive father’s feelings.
” Uncle Lysian wuvs Bawjac.” (Uncle Lysian loves Balzac.)
“……Huh?”
“Tha’s why he put a mashic spoww on Genow, wight? So Bawjac dun get ouchies.” (That’s why he put a magic spell on Genera, right? So Balzac doesn’t get ouchies.)
“……”
Balzac was quiet.
After a while, he hesitantly spoke up.
“That’s not really it. I keep hearing he’s a weirdo, so he was probably just experimenting with Genera.”
“But mashic is hawd.” (But magic is hard.)
“……”
“Still, he twied, an twied so hawd. So Bawjac not get huwt.” (Still, he tried and tried so hard. So that Balzac won’t get hurt.)
“……”
“Dun be huwt. Dun get huwt, my wittow one. Tha’s why he did it.” (Don’t be hurt, don’t get hurt, my little one. That’s why he did it.)
As I giggled and spoke, Balzac stared at me blankly.
‘Why is he looking at me like that?’
Did I say something wrong?
