Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything

What kind of cheap trap is this?

Did he really think she would fall for something so simple, like a child?

And yet.

Tap.

Beatty’s gaze flickered to the boy’s hand, which had been carefully placed before her.

…He put in the effort. It would be rude to ignore sincerity. That’s the only reason I’m going along with this.

After a brief hesitation, she finally scurried forward.

"!"

The boy’s eyes widened as he felt the sensation on his palm.

…This is what walking feels like?

It was so light that he could barely believe something was pressing down on his hand.

While he was caught in his own astonishment, Beatty crossed his palm in a determined trot and arrived at her target.

Ha!

Snatching up the almond, she promptly stuffed it into her cheek pouch.

Then, after a quick glance around—

Hm. That looks like a good spot.

Using his thick fingers like tree branches, she scampered up and perched herself comfortably.

As if hiding among leaves, she gripped his finger, straightening it into an upright position, and leaned back against her own fluffy tail like a cushion.

"…!"

The warmth of the tiny creature leaning against his finger sent a shockwave through the boy’s chest.

It wasn’t just surprise—it was something more.

His lips parted slightly in disbelief.

This feels… nice.

Beatty, oblivious to his turmoil, simply settled into place, using his finger as a backrest. She retrieved the almond from her cheek and held it in her tiny paws.

Seeds always taste good.

While she munched away contentedly, the boy was still trying to process the strange sensation pulsing through his chest.

What is this…?

His heartbeat, which had never wavered in battle, pounded loudly in his ears.

Before he could dwell on it any further—

Click!

The stillness in the room shattered.

"Miss Beatty."

Johanna had returned, as promised, but her expression was unusually somber.

"The master is calling for you."

The master… Oh, wait—she means Father!

The realization hit her like a jolt.

Father isn’t supposed to be in the estate right now. And he’s calling for me?

Is he planning to throw me out right away?!

Panic flooded Beatty’s mind.

Desperate for an answer, she hurriedly blurted out—

"Chyuju-chyut?"

"Why is he calling me?"

"Oh my."

Johanna paused at the sight of the tiny squirrel still perched atop the young master’s hand.

"My, my. It seems you two were getting along quite well. I hate to interrupt such a sweet sibling moment, but…"

With a warm chuckle, she approached.

"It’s time to meet your father, young lady. If you wish to speak with him properly, you’ll need to return to your human form."

She extended a hand, ready to assist her in changing back.

Hop!

Beatty switched over without much hesitation.

***

Once Beatty had left with Johanna to change out of her squirrel fur and into a dress—

"……."

The boy stared at his now-empty hand, an unfamiliar sense of loss settling in.

"Tsk."

Clicking his tongue in irritation, he frowned.

Behind him, the ever-oblivious knight suddenly burst into admiration.

"Wasn’t the young lady simply adorable, Young Master? The first time she set her tiny paws on my hand, I was so overwhelmed with joy—"

"What?"

Glare.

A dangerous, predatory energy flickered in the young master’s golden eyes as he turned toward the knight.

"Why was she in your hand?"

"Uh… because she’s delicate? It would’ve been cruel to make the young lady walk such a long distance…?"

"Give me your hand."

"…Excuse me?"

"Your hand. I’ll peel the skin off for you."

"Hiik?! What kind of terrifying joke is that?! Young Master, when you say things like that, it doesn’t sound like a joke!"

"It’s not."

Completely ignoring the knight’s panicked whining, the boy scoffed.

Thud.

He tossed the abandoned almond back onto the plate.

"Usually, weak things run away the moment they see me."

Most creatures were weaker than him.

Especially those sensitive to auras—they feared him instinctively.

Even trained warhorses often spooked and bolted. The only reason his current horse remained was because he had trained it—more accurately, he had conditioned it to understand that running away would be far worse.

But…

The squirrel that had sat in his palm was different.

From the very start, those round black eyes had watched him with curiosity—though it was actually wariness.

Replaying their first meeting in his mind, the boy’s lips curled into a smirk.

"She’s not afraid of me."

Not even a little.

Watching the pleased expression on the young master’s face, the knight scratched his cheek awkwardly.

"Well… there might be a reason for that. Perhaps it’s because the young lady—"

"Yeah. That little thing—"

Both spoke at the same time.

"—is a beastkin, so she’s naturally less affected."

"—recognized me as her brother."

"……."

"……."

A long silence followed.

Under the weight of the boy’s piercing glare, the knight quickly backtracked.

"…Yes, well, recognizing her older brother—that could be the reason, too. Of course."

"It’s not could be. It is the reason."

Declaring it with unwavering confidence, the boy left no room for argument.

The knight wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.

If that makes the Young Master happy…

The room remained silent until Beatty returned, now dressed in her human form.

***

"This is the office where the master usually conducts his work."

Johanna’s words made Beatty look up at the massive double doors before her.

She had to crane her neck just to take in their full height.

At the center of the doors, a relief of a roaring lion’s head loomed, its fierce expression frozen in gold.

Gulp.

Beatty swallowed unconsciously.

The master of the house… is in there.

As her nervous gaze remained fixed on the door, it slowly swung open.

"Ah, you’ve arrived."

Beatty tilted her head in confusion.

Who…?

The person standing inside was not the Duke of Aslan she had seen in the newspapers.

A brown-haired man with a warm, easygoing expression greeted them, nodding toward the boy behind Beatty.

"Young Master, it’s been a while."

"Yeah."

"You came all the way back from the battlefield. I assume it’s because of the supply lines?"

"What else would it be?"

"That makes sense."

The man gave a nonchalant nod before shifting his gaze toward Beatty.

"And the young lady… This is our first time meeting in person."

Scrape.

He rose from his seat, placing a hand over his chest before bowing deeply.

"I am Count Zelot, acting in the Duke’s stead. It is an honor to meet the Lady of House Aslan."

His greeting was far too formal for a child.

Beatty, still processing the situation, glanced around before speaking.

"I was told the master of the house summoned me."

"The master? Ah, yes. His Grace instructed us to connect you to him immediately upon your arrival."

"Connect…?"

"Yes, through communication. Using this device, we can establish direct contact with His Grace, even though he is on the battlefield. This is one of only two ancient relics in the entire kingdom capable of long-distance communication."

Count Zelot gestured toward a round, crystal-like sphere on the desk.

Gulp.

Beatty instinctively clutched at the fabric of her dress, gripping it tightly.

She was about to speak directly with her father.

She had never once heard his voice before. She had no idea what it would sound like.

"What… kind of conversation does he want to have with me?"

Her hesitant question was met with a thin-lipped smile from the count—one that seemed almost… snakelike.

"What else could it be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Of course, it is only natural for you to wish to see your family," he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated understanding.

Beatty stiffened.

For some reason, his gaze made her skin crawl.

"But the North is at war."

His tone turned slow and deliberate, like that of an adult explaining something to an unreasonable child.

"Lady Beatty, I understand that you may long to seek comfort from your father."

"Comfort…?"

Before she could object—before she could explain that she had never thought of such a thing—he continued.

"Ah, of course, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with feeling that way."

"……."

"It’s completely understandable. However, the situation in the North leaves little room for such things. If you understand the reasoning behind His Grace sending you to the capital, then surely you must realize the consequences of returning on a whim."

"I—"

Sigh.

The heavy sigh he let out made Beatty flinch.

The sound immediately reminded her of her aunt—the way she would furrow her brows in irritation whenever she looked at Beatty.

"Please be patient, my lady."

His words were kind, but his tone was one people used when placating a stubborn child.

"Once the war is over, His Grace will surely make up for all the lost time."@@novelbin@@

Beatty suddenly felt as if she were a selfish fool.

That’s not what this is about!

She hadn’t come here to demand attention in the middle of a war.

I came here to tell him how to win the war!

She wanted to explain, but the frustration in her small body made it difficult to breathe. Her face flushed with heat.

"This is so frustrating…!"

Her breath came out in short, uneven bursts as her emotions boiled over.

"Hm."

Something about her struggling expression seemed to irk the boy standing behind her. With a casual stride, he stepped forward and positioned himself in front of her.

"Count Zelot."

At the sound of his voice, the count involuntarily tensed.

"You sure have a lot to say, don’t you?"

"My… my apologies."

Zelot bowed immediately, showing no sign of resistance.

The boy shot him a look of open disapproval before speaking again.

"Apologize properly."

"…Of course."

Turning to Beatty, Zelot lowered his head once more.

"My Lady, it seems I was presumptuous. If my words have displeased you, I sincerely ask for your forgiveness."

"Huh? Ah…"

Beatty blinked in surprise.

An adult was apologizing to her?

Before she could fully process the moment—

Bzzt!

The crystal sphere on the desk flickered with intermittent light.

"Ah, perfect timing."

Brightening, Zelot placed a hand over the device and spoke as if holding a conversation.

"Yes, Your Grace. …Yes. …Understood. …I will transfer her now."

Turning back to Beatty, he gestured toward the crystal.

"Lady Beatty, His Grace is waiting."

"?"

"You are unfamiliar with how this works, I assume."

A nearby attendant quickly brought over a footstool and placed it in front of the desk, allowing Beatty to reach the relic.

"It’s quite simple. Just place your hand here."

Following the instruction, Beatty hesitantly laid her palm on the smooth surface of the sphere.

Before she even had time to adjust—

Bzzzzt.

"?!"

A strange vibration shot up her arm.

And then—

A voice echoed directly inside her mind.

"Why."

She had never heard it before.

But she knew instantly.

"Why did you leave the capital?"

It was a reprimanding voice.

Her father’s.

Beatty stood frozen.

Objectively, the voice was deep—calm. It carried a quiet weight, a natural authority that commanded attention.

So this is what his voice sounds like…

It was the first time she had ever heard it.

And for some reason, she found it difficult to open her mouth.

"……."

"Can you not hear me?"

The next words pressed for a response.

Did I take too long to answer? Is he angry?

His tone wasn’t exactly angry—it wasn’t raised or harsh. But Beatty had grown up with an aunt who could convey volumes of displeasure without raising her voice.

She had the sudden instinct to explain before things escalated.

"Uh, that’s—"

Wait. What was the question again?

"…Did something happen in the capital?"

It was a sharp, commanding tone.

Yet, when she listened closely, it almost sounded… concerned.

But Beatty was too preoccupied with forming an answer to notice.

"In the capital…?"

Her mind scrambled.

Then it hit her.

Oh no!

I slapped Ritter across the face before I left…!