Baby Squirrel Is Good at Everything-Chapter 62

No one—never before—had ever shown curiosity about these seemingly trivial details of Beatty’s life.

Because of that, Beatty herself had never considered them to be significant.

"Beatty."

For once, instead of calling her "Tailfur," Carl spoke her name with serious intent as he came to a conclusion.

"That was bullying."

Now that he had confirmed everything firsthand from his little sister’s mouth, Carl had no reason to hold back any longer.

"Uh..."

"From now on, if anyone does even a fraction of what they did to you in the capital, tell me immediately."

I’ll make them kneel before you and beg.

Carl growled those words under his breath, his golden eyes flashing coldly as he declared,

"No one is allowed to treat you like that."

"..."

What was she supposed to say?

Beatty didn’t know.

For some reason, her throat felt tight, her lips parting and closing without sound.

Her eyes kept growing hot—probably just a side effect of returning to a younger body.

Yes, that had to be it.

This uncharacteristically emotional reaction was only because she ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) was physically young again.

While Beatty struggled to come up with an explanation for herself—

"That’s right."

Click.

The door, which had been left slightly ajar, opened completely, and the Duke stepped inside.

"Father...?"

Beatty looked up at him in confusion.

The man standing there—her father, who had always seemed like a merciless, iron-blooded warlord, whose presence had never been anything less than imposing—

Looked pale.

A face that never cracked under pressure, now utterly drained of color.

Eyes that were always steady and unwavering, now shaking, distorted like the reflection of a broken moon.

Is he sick?

Beatty felt a strange twinge of concern.

She tilted her head slightly, gazing up at him with worried eyes.

As she did, the figure reflected in his dark pupils grew closer—

"!?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Thud.

Thick, strong arms wrapped around her, encasing her entirely.

"A-Ah, Father?!"

"..."

The grip was so tight that it should have felt suffocating.

Yet, instead of being stifling, it felt solid—like the protective shell of an unbreakable egg.

Even though I’m not a beastkin that hatches from eggs...

She tried to distract herself with such thoughts, but there was no escaping the warmth that surrounded her.

The foreign sensation of being enveloped in another’s body heat.

"..."

It was different from when her brother had held her.

This embrace wasn’t just about lifting her up—it was about shielding her, completely blocking out the dangers of the world.

She felt like a baby bird inside its nest.

...Warm.

Nestled in the embrace of a massive lion, the tiny squirrel quietly buried her face deeper into the warmth.

Tap.

Her small forehead lightly pressed against his chest.

The Duke felt something deep inside him tremble.

Lifting one hand, he carefully cradled her tiny head in his palm—so small that it fit entirely within his grasp.

Then, his voice, heavy with suppressed emotion, broke the silence.

"My child."

A voice so low, so tightly restrained, as if holding something back.

"I was wrong."

Beatty flinched and lifted her head.

Why... is he apologizing?

Her father’s face came into view, framed by her questioning gaze.

"...?"

The expression he wore—so deeply contorted, as if swallowing back unbearable pain—was unfamiliar to her.

Without thinking—

"Does it hurt?"

Her tiny hand reached up, resting lightly against his cheek as if soothing him.

The Duke’s dark eyes widened, a visible flinch overtaking him.

His expression twisted further.

Such a kind child...

Why...

"You."

A sharp, piercing regret stabbed through his chest once more.

"I should never have left you alone."

What was the use of the northern fortress, of any of it?

What did it matter if he defended the entire kingdom, if the one precious thing within it was left to suffer?

"It was my mistake."

A confession, whispered like a sigh, brushed past her ears.

"My little one."

His touch was as though he were holding the most fragile thing in the world.

As if he feared she would shatter at the slightest pressure, his large hand gently cradled her cheek, treating her like the most delicate masterpiece.

"A..."

Her mouth opened slightly, but the sound that escaped wasn’t quite a word.

Wow... this is... incredible.

Trying to distract herself, Beatty thought,

Who else in the world could say they received an apology from the Duke of Aslan?

This had to be an achievement no one in history had ever accomplished.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

To receive not one, but two apologies from him in a single day?

That was something truly remarkable.

She repeated it in her mind, trying to focus on it.

She needed to.

Because there was something swelling inside her, something about to burst—

No, no, no. Not this.

She bit her lower lip hard, her two front teeth digging in to keep everything at bay.

Hic...

But her young body’s hormones betrayed her.

Drip.

Like a dam breaking, a river of tears burst forth.

Drip, drop, drip.

A warm rain fell onto the back of the Duke’s hand.

Tears, so thick and full of heat, poured down from her delicate black eyes.

"My child..."

The Duke’s voice, pained, called out to her as his hand, still cradling her cheek, grew wet with her sorrow.

He would rather cut down a thousand enemies on the battlefield than helplessly watch his daughter cry.

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

Before his child’s endless tears, the Duke found himself completely powerless.

All he could do was gently wipe them away with his fingers, over and over.

"Don’t cry."

His softly whispered words were the final catalyst.

"Hic—Hiccup! Hic!"

Beatty wailed.

For the first time, she realized—

That having someone comfort her was a relief beyond words.

"Hic! Hic—!"

The Duke, flustered by her uncontrollable sobbing, hurriedly wiped her tears with one hand while patting her back with the other.

Watching the dramatic scene unfold, a boy standing to the side spoke in his usual tone.

"Crybaby."

Flinch.

Beatty’s shaking shoulders stiffened.

Tremble, tremble.

She turned her head slightly, glaring as best she could while still sniffling.

"I—hic—I am not a crybaby!"

"What? I can only hear sniffles."

Beatty turned to face her brother fully, eyes red and swollen.

Carl smirked at the sight.

"Crybaby brat."

"...I am not!"

Unable to curse in front of her father, Beatty’s fiery protest came through her sharp glare instead.

Idiot!

Carl grinned.

Then, poke.

His finger pressed into her puffed-up cheek.

"You look like a steamed bun."

"I— You—!"

Ducking away from his playful jabs, Beatty shook her head furiously.

Sniff... Sniffle!

But no matter how hard she tried, she could feel the tears welling up again.

No...!

This was all because of this young body.

She was not usually this emotional.

But her body, untrained in controlling emotions, reacted strangely to even the smallest triggers.

Hiccup, hiccup.

Her small shoulders trembled once more.

The Duke sighed quietly.

His son had been trying to distract his sister, but now he had overdone it and nearly made her cry again.

"Carl."

The Duke called his son’s name, halting his teasing.

Carl turned back, grumbling under his breath—though his eyes flickered toward Beatty’s damp lashes.

It seemed he was slightly concerned about making her cry again.

The Duke shook his head at his son’s clumsy attempts at comfort.

Pat, pat.

The gentle rhythm on her back slowly steadied her.

Holding her close, the Duke lifted her into his arms and stood.

"!?"

The sudden shift in height startled Beatty, making her tears dry up instantly.

He gazed down at the weightless child in his arms.

A single, final tear slipped down her cheek.

Her dark eyes, clear as the sky after rain, shimmered.

"Ah."

The Duke’s large hand brushed back her tousled hair.

"Does your head hurt?"

"Huh?"

He pressed a hand lightly to her forehead.

"...Your fever has gone down."

Realizing that his words were ones of concern for her, Beatty fidgeted.

She had never been cared for like this before.

Not even in her past life.

It felt...

Warm.

The Duke, confirming that her condition had stabilized, finally spoke in a heavy voice.

"I have heard everything from Viscountess Siurus."