Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything

The golden sunlight streaming through the window made the Duke’s blond hair gleam even more brilliantly, like molten gold.

Crowned by radiant light, he stood by the window like a divine statue carved in a temple, gazing outward with an impassive expression—like a god observing the mortal realm.

‘What is he looking for?’

From her hiding place, Beatty tilted her head in curiosity.

The Duke, having opened the window himself, simply stood there, silently watching the outside world.

"Your Grace?"

Only when his subordinate called out did the Duke finally turn his gaze away.

As he stepped back from the window, more of the office became visible.

The massive desk closest to the window was covered with stacks of documents, and the walls were lined with towering bookshelves filled to the brim.

But as Beatty shifted her gaze slightly, she noticed something out of place in the meticulously arranged room.

One bookshelf stood apart from the others.

In front of it, a small side table was cluttered with scattered sheets of paper, filled with scribbles and notes.

Several thick books were stacked beside them, their worn spines revealing signs of frequent use.

Step. Step.

The Duke walked over to the side table and picked up one of the disorganized papers.

His gaze lingered on it for a moment before he spoke.

“Beatty.”

‘Huh?’

Hearing her name suddenly spill from her father’s lips, Beatty instinctively perked up.@@novelbin@@

While the little squirrel struggled outside to get a better look inside—

The Duke’s gaze shifted to the section of the office that had long been dedicated to a single purpose.

A bookshelf filled with books on the etymology of names from various countries.

A side table piled with naming books that had been flipped through countless times.

And the paper in his hand—on which "Beatty" had been written in neat handwriting.

Beneath it, traces of erased and rewritten names could still be seen.

"Rikita"
"Del"
"Dolcia"

"Leticia"
"Leti"
"Titia"

"Amonita"
"Suabi"

"Fortuna"

The list went on and on, covering the side table like a mountain of possibilities.

Every single one carried meanings of joy and blessing.

Names carefully chosen for the most precious child in the world.

“The meaning of ‘Beatty’…”

A name meant to bestow the greatest fortune upon the one dearest to him.

"Blessing of Happiness."

A visible trace of years of contemplation.

As the Duke gazed at the papers, his longtime aide observed him carefully before speaking.

"Isn't it fascinating?"

“……”

"Out of all the names, Your Grace pondered over this one the longest. Though you were unable to name the young lady yourself…"

The Duke’s impassive lips tightened slightly.

Having served him for years, the aide did not miss the subtle reaction.

As a seasoned retainer, he quickly adjusted his approach.

"Still, since the name has now found its rightful owner, doesn’t that mean ‘Beatty’ was always meant to be hers?"

“Mm.”

A name meant to fit one's destiny.

For the people of the North, there was no higher compliment, nor a greater blessing.

‘Yes.’

Satisfied with the praise for his daughter, the Duke nodded and placed the paper back on the table.

"Clear this away."

Though he regretted never being able to call her by the name he had chosen,

‘At least she likes it.’

That was enough.

With that thought, he ordered the space to be tidied up.

"Such a shame," the aide murmured, looking wistfully at the table filled with years of effort.

"Whenever Your Grace had a free moment, you would deliberate over her name."

Rather than lament, the aide tried to lighten the mood.

"But to think that after all these years of deliberation, this is the name that ended up with the young lady… Ah, Your Grace, did you know?"

As he carefully sorted through the mountain of name lists, the aide chuckled.

"You spent over eight years choosing this name! I doubt we’ll ever see such a record again. Surely, no other child in the North has been as cherished as the young lady!"

“Hmph.”

The Duke responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Wasn’t it only natural for the most cherished child to be his daughter?

She was that lovable, after all.

Lost in his own objective thoughts about Beatty’s overwhelming adorableness, the Duke suddenly—

Whoosh.

Turned sharply toward the window.

“……”

“Your Grace? Is there something outside?”

The Duke muttered, eyes lingering on the now-still branches.

"She’s gone."

He had left the window open just in case.

The Duke glanced at the spot where the leaves had rustled moments before, watching in disappointment before turning away.

***

“Squee….”

Thump-thump!

Beatty pressed a tiny paw to her rapidly beating heart.

‘Father… spent years thinking about my name?’

That was something she never expected.

She had thought he had simply scribbled something down and sent it without much thought.

‘To think he put so much effort into choosing my name… for years.’

If she accounted for the timeline before her regression, that meant he had spent ten years thinking about it.

“……”

A strange warmth bloomed in her chest.

Beatty unconsciously covered her face with her small hands.

The white fur on her cheeks seemed to have taken on a faint pink hue.

But it wasn’t from her racing heart.

‘Could it be that he…?’

It was because of the feeling swelling inside her.

‘Maybe… he doesn’t hate me as much as I thought?’

A tiny spark of hope, thought long extinguished, peeked out.

Thump-thump!

The sudden surge of anticipation made Beatty panic.

Shaking her head furiously, she let out a flustered squeak.

“Squeak-squeak!”

‘No, no, no!’

She needed to be rational.

Taking deep breaths, she forced herself to think logically.

‘Maybe he was just being thorough. As a member of the ducal family, my name would be officially recorded, so he had to make sure it was proper.’

She tried to douse the warmth in her chest with cold logic.

‘…But still, it doesn’t change the fact that Father spent years picking my name.’

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, the walls she had built around her heart began to crumble.

“Squeeeee—!”

No, no, no!

This wasn’t logical at all!

Grabbing onto a nearby curtain, she shook her head furiously, as if trying to fling away the ticklish feeling inside her.

But the emotion was stubborn.

‘Think of something else. Something logical…!’

Huff-huff.

Trying to calm herself, she searched for a distraction.

“Squeak!”

‘That’s right!’

She had originally climbed the tree for a reason.

To plan her long-term stay at the estate!

‘Yes, I need to focus on something productive and rational.’

Nodding firmly to herself, she quickly came up with a plan.

‘I have a new recipe!’

Aside from her main scheme, she had continued working on Tuberosum recipes.

The more diverse the recipes, the easier it would be to popularize the ingredient.

‘Last time, I only brought the basics.’

Determined, she scurried down the curtain.

‘Besides, tasting something is more convincing than just reading about it.’

Squeak!

Nodding to herself, she rushed toward the kitchen.

She would pick only the most popular future Tuberosum recipes.

‘Tuberosum soup is a must. It’s a classic. And fried Tuberosum, of course! Oh, and Tuberosum cookies…!’

She planned to prepare plenty to bring to her father.

‘Seeing the results firsthand will make the value of this deal even clearer! Yes, this is just business!’

Yes. Completely logical.

That’s what she told herself.

Meanwhile, her fluffy tail swayed excitedly behind her.

‘I need to finish quickly and bring it to him!’

At that moment, Beatty wasn’t fully aware of what she was doing.

‘Food tastes best when it’s warm… I mean, um… the trade value is higher that way!’

But in reality, what she was doing was something instinctual.

Something deeply ingrained in human nature.

Bringing food to someone.

An ancient sign of affection.