“That’s more chaotic than I imagined.”

I was under the impression that being a Count meant a respectable status and a considerable fortune, but that was purely my misunderstanding.

“I don’t want to eat this!”

“Aida, there are many people outside who are starving because they have even less than this. You shouldn’t whine.”

Aida, my younger sister, threw the bread aside and burst into tears, while our father, Count Bradley Somerset, sternly chastised her.

I glanced at the food placed before me, thinking that the dining scene in a noble household might resemble that of an ordinary family.

On the table lay a thin, unidentifiable soup and bread that resembled rocks in hardness.

Certainly, these were not appetizing dishes for even a child.

Resolving to eat, I attempted to dip the bread into the soup, but just as I broke it apart—

*Crack!*

Did I just hear the sound of wood splintering?

“Father, is this really all we have?”

“What are you talking about, Rupert?”

“I just thought that, being a Count, we might at least have some soft bread on the table.”

Was it too greedy of me to desire a life of comfort and wealth as a noble?

No, but really, is it not excessive to have a table without even a piece of meat?

If I were to overturn this table, I wondered if the recognition association would still acknowledge it as part of our beautiful traditional custom.

“I’m sorry. It seems your father has mismanaged our investments and caused you both to suffer.”

At my words, my father began to weep, and soon the head maid and butler who were preparing the meal joined him in tears.

“N-no, please don’t do this all of a sudden.”

I couldn’t help but feel flustered at the suddenly heavy atmosphere.

Eventually, the reason for our family’s decline spilled from my father’s lips, and it was quite the story.

Our family is part of the Borus Empire on the Sylvania Continent.

The Emperor of that Empire suddenly declared war on our neighboring Silberia Kingdom, forcing local lords to either muster soldiers or provide military funds.

Faced with this dilemma, my father, Count Bradley, decided he could not sacrifice the people of our territory for an unfounded war and opted to provide monetary support instead, resulting in a significant hole in our territory’s finances.

With this course, my father pondered and ultimately concluded:

“We can pay it back later.”

In the midst of a war, such special circumstances usually leave many impoverished, but some seize these opportunities to amass wealth.

For instance, war merchants come to mind.

My father focused on this aspect and combined forces with the merchants within our territory to make a sort of investment.

“The price of the elves’ special fertilizer has dropped significantly. Surely, once the war is over, there will be a need for this special fertilizer to restore the devastated land, so the price will rise.”

It sounded reasonable. Hence, my father used all his available funds and even borrowed heavily to purchase the elves’ special fertilizer.

Then—

“With the war over, we will rebuild the nation. The royal treasury will provide support goods; everyone must do their utmost for the restoration!”

A catastrophic event occurred as the Emperor’s decree led to the mass dispersal of the elves’ special fertilizer, which had been stockpiled by the royal family for post-war preparations.

Naturally, no fool would purchase fertilizer at a price, and thus the elves’ special fertilizer rotted away in our family’s mansion storeroom.

“What the… Is our family marked by the royal family?”
I can understand the intentions behind sending military funds for the sake of our territory’s citizens and the decision to invest in a business to generate income to avoid raising taxes, which would burden them further.

However, how can it be that, in an already precarious financial situation, the Emperor intervened and ruined an investment that was crucial for our family’s survival?

Of course, I know that investments come with risks.

But if it were due to natural disasters or calamities, it wouldn’t feel as unjust. To have everything collapse because of a sudden royal intervention—what kind of cruel twist is this?

I’m filled with rage, yet the rationale seems to lie with the Emperor.

“If we stockpile special fertilizer to sell at a high price after the war, our family will surely pay the price.”

Had I voiced such a notion, it would surely cost our family dearly. After all, how could a noble even think of profiting from the pain caused by war?

“Never put all your eggs in one basket,” they say.

It might have been difficult to anticipate the disaster that is an Emperor, but entrusting our family’s fortunes entirely to a Count aiming for a considerable gain was not all that reassuring either.

I began to think that if I relied on this gentleman, I wouldn’t enjoy a comfortable life in this other world; instead, I would soon find myself on the streets, living the life of a homeless person amidst the fantasy landscape.

Gulping my frustration down,

I had to eat to survive, so I dipped the hard, stone-like bread into the soup rather than breaking it apart and pondered what I should do to save our family moving forward.

By the way, I wondered if there was a dentist in this other world?

If I continued eating this bread, I might soon need to purchase dentures.

*

“Big brother, I’m bored! Hurry up and do that for me!”

As I sat at my desk trying to assess our family’s financial situation, Aida clung to my leg, whining.

This little six-year-old was so stubborn that she wouldn’t even consider the offer of playing together later.

“Waaah!”

Her tantrum annoyed me as she pouted, her chubby cheeks squished on either side making odd sounds.

‘She is cute, though.’

As she squirmed away from my hand reaching to pinch her cheeks, I found her adorable and pulled her into my lap. Pouting her cheeks, Aida expressed her irritation.

“Quickly draw Cinderella Aida!”

As expected, her true desire lay with fairy tales.

Feeling sympathetic that there were no toys for Aida to play with at her age due to our family’s financial struggles, I had drawn her a fairy tale book.

Well, the only fairy tales I knew were the famous ones from Disney, so I ended up drawing the most iconic one, Cinderella. Ever since, Aida began calling herself Cinderella Aida.

“Aida lost her mother when she was young, and her father and brother treated her poorly. How much did she cry?”

Along with the fairy tale book, I also taught her the Cinderella nursery rhyme, which she took the liberty of changing and sang all day.

My father and his retainers were visibly shocked when they heard her singing her rewritten lyrics.

I had taught her the actual lyrics correctly, yet because I was the one who introduced them, I ended up getting scolded too.

After that, singing was banned, but Aida continued to frequently come to me, asking me to draw her like Cinderella.

It was bothersome, but seeing my little sister lonely tugged at my heartstrings, and I had drawn for her each time, which became the problem.

One could say, “How hard is it to draw a picture for a child?”

Yet, this young client was incredibly demanding, insisting on everything from the color of the dress to detailed decorations, making it quite the challenge.
“Aida will marry a prince when she grows up!”

Spinning around with joy while looking at the drawing I made, Aida exclaimed.

‘Yes, the prince marries the main character. Dream on, little sister.’

But little did I imagine that this would actually become a breakthrough for our family’s survival.

*

“What on earth is this book called Cinderella?”

Baron Sleepy had recently been enduring a great deal of torment.

His only daughter had taken to whining incessantly, complaining about not having her own Cinderella.

“I’m the only one without a Cinderella!! Aida has one!!”

Ever since she went to visit the Somerset Count’s estate, she had been crying, claiming she was the only one without a Cinderella.

Curious about what had happened, he asked the maid who accompanied his daughter.

“There was a book owned by the Count’s Young Lady… After reading it, she’s been like this ever since.”

Upon hearing this, Baron Sleepy immediately summoned his butler and instructed him to fetch that book.

Couldn’t he buy a single book for his beloved daughter? He was briefly filled with excitement at the thought of receiving her affection after securing the book.

“Baron, I’m sorry… I’ve searched everywhere from the nearby shops to the bookstores, but I couldn’t find such a book.”

Upon hearing that the butler couldn’t find it, Baron Sleepy wondered if it had been sourced from another region, but Cinderella was nowhere to be found.

“Does this even make sense? I sent telegrams all the way to the capital and still couldn’t find it?!”

His daughter showed no signs of stopping her cries, and now she was even going on a hunger strike, refusing to eat. Frantic, the Baron resorted to spending a small fortune to send a telegram via the magic tower to search for the book in the capital.

But Cinderella was still absent there as well.

“At this point, wouldn’t it be better to directly ask the Count Somerset?”

At the butler’s suggestion, Baron Sleepy contemplated this.

Directly asking a noble such as “Where did you obtain that item?” is seen as a lack of sophistication in noble society. It indirectly implies an acknowledgment that one lacks the discernment to obtain such items themselves.

Usually, if one finds another’s possessions preferable, they would simply acquire the same item without a word to indicate their competence.

“Damn it, where the hell did that poor Count get that book…”

The Baron felt a sting in his gut, but he couldn’t bear to let his daughter’s hunger strike go on without act, so he ordered his butler to prepare for a visit to the Count’s estate.

*

“So you mean to say that the Count’s son created ‘Cinderella’ himself?”

The Count lamented to the Baron about how troublesome this book had become.

As it turned out, the Baron wasn’t the only one in this predicament.

The Young Ladies of nearby estates, playing with Aida, had returned home, all clamoring to find their own copies of Cinderella, resulting in an influx of nobility visiting the Count’s estate.

“My son drew a picture book for his sister, so it’s not something I can sell anywhere. I truly have no means to help.”

Upon hearing this from the Count, the Baron felt darkness clouding his vision.

He had come here to cast aside his noble demeanor, yet facing his daughter’s protest and leaving without any results was not an option.

Desperate, the Baron pleaded,

“Please let me meet your son.”

He made this earnest request with the hope of grasping at any straw.