As I stood there lost in thought, I noticed the library's catalog still lying on the very desk where my father had been writing minutes earlier. Romantic novels, political and economic treatises, historical accounts, scientific volumes - every genre imaginable was meticulously listed. If this place couldn't provide the answers I sought, I truly didn't know where else to look.
I needed to learn more about Elecro. But which section should I check first? Maybe educational, perhaps historical, or possibly scientific. Damn it all. This meant wasting precious time digging through piles of useless books to find what I needed.
My eyes ached from squinting at the list in the dim moonlight, the faint glow barely enough to read by. Frustration gnawed at me - why did something so simple have to become so needlessly complicated? In the end, I settled on the scientific section. It seemed the most likely to contain information about working with Elecro. But even as I made my choice, I knew this was just a shot in the dark - a desperate, impulsive decision rather than any carefully considered strategy.
Middle row, fourth shelf. I headed straight for it. The number of books wasn't insignificant, and each volume was as thick as those historical tomes I'd seen earlier. Now came another problem—even standing on my toes, I could barely reach the lowest shelf. My much-vaunted intelligence clearly had room for improvement when it came to physical limitations. I'd thought my plan was foolproof, but...
Suddenly, I heard heavy, rapid footsteps approaching from behind the library door. My blood ran cold—they'd caught me. In that moment, I cursed myself, "What a shitty plan you came up with, Camelia."
[69 Dumb Choices]
Episode 6: A Father's Protection
I ducked behind a bookshelf, though I knew it was probably too late. My father's voice reached me as he spoke to a guard, "Turn the palace upside down for Camelia. Find her at all costs. And mind you—don't wake Her Ladyship."
His voice was calm yet laced with worry - as if he'd already checked my room and found me missing. Now he'd lined up the soldiers, but one thing was clear; My mother—that 'Lady' the soldiers addressed so formally—must never learn about this.
Oh for fuck's sake. Can't someone tell this man what the hell he was doing in his two-year-old daughter's room in the middle of the goddamn night?!
Anxiety and excitement coursed through me from head to toe. For a moment, I considered abandoning this library and slipping back out the way I'd come—but by now, the entire estate must be crawling with guards. Damn it all. If only I were a little taller, I could've made it. Seems I'd chosen the worst possible time for this.
I decided to end this myself—before it was too late, before Father's worry escalated, before the entire Leonhardt clan caught wind of it. So I revealed my hidden weapon.
I burst into uncontrollable sobs.
There's an unspoken rule: If a kid does something wrong—but no one knows—the moment they cry, all the blame shifts to someone who isn't even there. I put that trick to work. Barely seconds after deploying my 'secret weapon,' I got results; A key turned in the lock, the door swung open, and someone stepped inside.
It was exactly who I'd expected. My father, moving toward me at a pace caught between running and walking, spotted me—fake-sobbing without tears, curled in the shadows of the bookshelves—and pulled me into his arms. "Camelia! What are you doing here?! You little troublemaker! Do you have any idea how worried I've been? If your mother found out, she'd have turned the entire kingdom upside down looking for you."
"Just cry, Camelia—just cry! Damn it, where are these tears when I need them?!"
Father scooped me into his arms and strode to the library doors. Outside, he shoved the key at his bleary-eyed assistant—the man's uniform wrinkled, hair sticking up like a plucked chicken—and snapped, "Camelia's safe. Lock it down and call off the hounds."
"What was the young lady doing in the library? Surely no one would dare try to kidnap her?'"
You fucking idiot! Who'd even have the balls to kidnap me? I'm the thief here!
My father, as if actually considering his idiotic suggestion, said, "It's possible. Regardless, I'll deal with this tomorrow. For now, just quietly put everything back as it was."
The man nodded and obeyed. Meanwhile, cradled in my father's arms as we walked back to my room, he spoke to me in that soothing voice of his—as if I could understand him. (Though, honestly, I can understand him!)
"Did you go there to read, little one? Already loving books at such a young age! That's wonderful, but next time, tell me or Mama first. That library is yours too. No need to sneak in like a thief!"
A chair! Damn it—I left the chair right by the door. This man will never believe I'm just a normal kid."
Don't say a word. Don't react—or he'll get even more suspicious! Oh, right… I can pretend to be asleep so he'll drop it.
I rested my head against his shoulder, and the movement made him instinctively place his hand on my hair. His large hands gently stroked my head, soothing and warm.
Right. Even if he had figured out that I made it all the way to the library alone, he'd keep quiet about it—because his little girl isn't saying anything either. Though, let's be real: he did see that chair. He must've suspected the truth immediately. And yet, he still ordered the entire estate's guards to search for me in a panic. Didn't even mention it to his assistant. Something tells me this man can anticipate my every move…
We were just steps away from my room when he suddenly stopped and glanced at his own bedroom door.
"You know… I suddenly thought it might be nice if you slept with us tonight."
The request was so unexpected that I jolted out of my fake sleep and stared at him. His eyes weren't teasing—just soft and full of warmth, "What I mean is… um… well, when girls grow up, they don't sleep next to their parents anymore. And you'll probably be the same!" He laughed, "I mean, you already sneaked into the library alone at midnight without anyone noticing. By the time you're three or four, you'll definitely refuse to share a bed with us! You'll want privacy. So… I don't see why you can't stay with us tonight."
He changed course and headed toward his own bedroom. I hesitated. Though I couldn't yet speak clearly enough to say, 'No thanks, Father—I'd die of embarrassment?!', there was nothing I could do but surrender to this paternal whim.
He gently closed the bedroom door. My mother was sleeping soundly under the blankets on their large, ornate bed—utterly at peace. When he placed me on the mattress right beside her, he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the nightstand drawer. Inside was a small black box, clearly the bed's keyholder. Then, without a second thought, he changed into his sleep clothes and settled in beside me. And there I was—a barely two-year-old girl, wedged between her parents.
It was the most mortifying scenario imaginable. Any other child would've drifted off without a care in the world. But for me? It took at least an hour of mental bargaining before I could finally fall asleep.