I Became the Male Lead’s Adopted Daughter

The Grand Voreoti Mansion
House Voreoti’s estate was vast.

Beyond the large arched iron gates, a front garden stretched toward the main mansion.
A grand fountain stood in the center, surrounded by symmetrical landscaping, before finally revealing the main residence.
Its tall, pointed black rooftops contrasted sharply with the white snow, making it look both majestic and imposing.

Beyond the ornate black lion-adorned doors, a wide hall and grand staircase welcomed visitors.
But today’s visitors…
Were not welcomed.

The six guests knelt in the vast entrance hall, bound with their hands tied behind their backs.
Their clothes were tattered, their faces pale with fear.
At the front, the orphanage director knelt, with the teachers and staff behind him, forming a perfect triangle.

Ferio stood before them, meeting each pair of trembling eyes as he spoke.
"What happened to the orphanage?"
A man stepped forward and saluted.

It was Manus, the knight who had stayed behind with Lupe at the orphanage.
Before he could answer, Lupe entered, dark circles under his eyes, and handed over a report.
"It burned down in an unfortunate fire, Your Grace."

Ferio took the document, flipping through it lazily.
"A fire?"
Lupe nodded.

"Yes. The local authorities confirmed that everyone inside perished. A tragic loss. The children… and even the kindhearted Teacher Connie. Such an unspeakable tragedy."
He sighed dramatically.
"If only we had arrived earlier, we might have saved them."
Ferio hummed in mock agreement, his black eyes tinged with red as he gazed at the report.

The white paper in his hands suddenly burst into flames, disintegrating into a pile of ash at his feet.
The prisoners' faces turned even paler.
But for those who served House Voreoti, this sight was nothing new.

This was the power of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the Voreoti family.
Lupe massaged his temples, exhausted.
The Voreoti Dukes had long ruled the North, unchallenged even by the Imperial Family.

Some attributed it to their warlike nature, others to their long-standing history and countless military achievements.
But Lupe knew the real reason.
‘It’s that power.’

This translation is the intellectual property of .
The power of the Voreoti bloodline was neither Aura, which warriors honed through martial prowess, nor Mana, the foundation of magic.
It was something entirely different—a strange and mystical force that only those born into House Voreoti could possess.

Whenever this power was invoked, the black irises of the Voreoti heir would become tinged with a distinct color, symbolizing their ability.
At the same time, an eerie energy would rise from their body, forming a peculiar pattern in the air—sharp and menacing, reminiscent of a beast’s fangs.
People called this phenomenon “The Fangs of the Beast.”

However, using this power did not always result in those fang-like markings appearing.
What Ferio had done just now required only a minuscule amount of energy, causing only a faint red hue to mix into his black eyes.
Even so—

It was more than enough to instill fear.
The instant the calm, beast-like gaze turned red, the kneeling guests began shuddering in terror.
"Mister!"

A cheerful voice, completely out of place in this ominous atmosphere, broke through the tension.
Lupe’s eyes widened in shock.
The knights and servants standing nearby were equally startled.

Still cradled in Meleis’ arms, Leonia had arrived at the entrance hall.
The moment her feet touched the ground, she scampered forward, clutching a small ornate box adorned with sparkling jewels.
"You’ll hurt yourself."

Ferio caught her in his arms, issuing a calm warning.
But Leonia simply scoffed.
"Why are you so worried? I was the best at escaping the orphanage!"

"Maybe you’ll finally come to your senses when you crack your nose open."
"Why are you always so extreme?"
"And why were you even running away from the orphanage in the first place?"

"Because those people tried to hit me."
With perfect honesty, she ratted them out completely.
Ferio’s expression—which had just started to settle—twisted once more.

The warm atmosphere of the mansion was instantly chilled.
The orphanage staff kneeling on the floor shrank even further.
Even Lupe and the Voreoti household members felt a shiver run down their spines.

But Lupe understood.
Right now, Ferio was doing everything in his power to contain his rage, lest he frighten the daughter in his arms.
Yet even while holding back, his very presence exuded overwhelming menace.

"Oh! It's Secretary Mister!"
Leonia, completely oblivious to the thick tension, brightly greeted Lupe, waving a small hand.
"…It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Leonia."

Lupe, momentarily delayed, lowered his head in greeting.
The title "Mister" still felt strange, but so did speaking normally in this terrifying situation.
"Please, just call me Lupe. I see you’ve been doing well."

"I’ve been eating and sleeping really well!"
"That is truly a relief."
Lupe couldn’t hide his astonishment.

It had only been a short time, yet Leonia looked completely different.
Her once grimy skin was now clear and smooth.
Her black hair, tied with a red ribbon, was neatly brushed.

She wore a thick woolen dress, lined with fur from a beast of the Northern Mountains, along with cozy stockings and fur-trimmed boots adorned with tiny red pom-poms.
She was the very image of a beloved noble daughter.
The worries he had about her impulsive adoption now felt almost laughable.

"…Nia?"
A weak voice broke through the silence.
"Nia, Nia! It’s us! The teachers!"

"You're safe! We were so worried!"
"Why didn’t you send us a single letter? Have you been eating well?"
"Oh my, you've become so beautiful we almost didn’t recognize you!"

The orphanage staff, sensing a sliver of hope, desperately reached out.
The cold weather had left their faces stiff, yet they forced smiles, making their numb facial muscles tremble.
Their eyes clung desperately to Leonia, as if she were a lifeline.

"Nia!"
Even the orphanage director teared up, his voice trembling.
"It's me! The headmaster!"

He cried out pitifully, as if he were truly a victim of injustice.
But Leonia merely stared at him, silent and unreadable.
Becoming more frantic, the director tried to paint a nostalgic picture, speaking of memories that only existed in his own mind.

"I remember the day you first came to the orphanage. It was such a hot summer. Do you know how adorable you were? Just like a tiny little mouse—so delicate, so pitiful. And I was the one who gave you your name—"
"Mister."
Leonia interrupted him.

She reached for Ferio’s coat, tugging gently.
Ferio cast a brief glance at the orphanage staff, then lowered her to the floor.
The moment some of the staff members tried to lunge forward, Voreoti knights immediately restrained them, pressing them face-first into the floor.

"They’re here for you."
Kneeling, Ferio gently wiped the corner of Leonia’s mouth with his sleeve.
This translation is the intellectual property of .

A few crumbs from her earlier snack transferred onto the fabric.
"As your father, I have an obligation to host them properly."
"Mhm."

"But before I do that, I need to ask you something."
"What is it?"
Leonia tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

The two of them had already discussed what they were going to do with the "guests."
So, why was he asking for her opinion again?
"I need to know if you still want what you asked for before."

He had no intention of sparing them.
But if Leonia felt pity and asked for mercy, he was willing to grant it.
Of course, he'd still deal with them in his own way—just out of her sight.

"Mmm…"
Leonia’s dark eyes blinked slowly.
For a moment, she pretended to consider.

Then, she opened the small box in her hands.
A gentle, melodic tune filled the vast hall.
The soft, elegant chime was so completely out of place that Ferio’s brow twitched in confusion.

"What is this?"
Leonia turned to face the trembling prisoners and grinned mischievously.
"A gift for our guests."

She tilted her head playfully.
"A Requiem."
***

The little beast did not go back on her word with her father.
"Why should I forgive them?"
Rather, Leonia sneered at the adults who had once been so cruel to her, now awkwardly pretending to care while calling her Nia.

And then, with no hesitation, she said—
"Crazy bastards, talking out of their asses."
The carriage carrying them was long gone.

So, Leonia seized the moment to start tattling.
"This one here always pinched my arm."
She pointed with her boot.

"That bastard over there took pride in beating kids with a leather belt."
She gave another tap.
"And that teacher?"

She grinned, shifting her boot toward another trembling figure.
"Had an affair with a married woman using orphanage funds."
Despite the fact that she hadn't seen them in a week, Leonia was absolutely thrilled to see familiar faces—

Because now she could torment them.
Giddy, she slipped off one boot and tapped it lightly against each of their foreheads—just enough to be deeply insulting.
"Woohoo! It’s time for a fun torture session!"

The little beast twirled gleefully, her footwork light and playful.
"Should've lived your lives better, huh?"
She smiled brightly, her eyes sharp with amusement.

Every time the music box stopped, she would step forward, snap the lid shut, then open it again to restart the requiem.
It was such a cruel act, that one of the adults finally broke down, screaming for mercy.
At last, she reached the final guest.

The orphanage director.
He no longer looked at her desperately, no longer pleaded like she was his last hope.
His eyes, hollow with despair and terror, no longer saw the grandeur of the Voreoti mansion around him.

"We sure do have a lot of memories, don’t we?"
The shimmering chandelier overhead looked like a noose to him.
The delicate music box melody sounded like a funeral march.

The grand staircase before him blurred into the path to the underworld.
"Why did you contact a brothel keeper?"
Leonia crouched down, her tone deceptively light.

"If you sold my friend, I suppose I would’ve been next, huh? Or maybe one of the younger ones?"
Her gaze darkened slightly.
"Why did you make our lives so miserable?"

The director did not answer.
Because it did not matter anymore.
No excuse, no desperate plea would change his fate.

Behind Leonia, Ferio’s silent, crimson gaze weighed down on them all, sealing their doom.
"You know…"
Leonia tilted her head.

"People like you—people who work in orphanages—aren’t you supposed to protect kids?"
Her round black eyes gleamed innocently.
Her fur-lined boot tapped against the director’s forehead—

Once.
Twice.
Slow.

Deliberate.
And completely indifferent.
Like she was simply watching an insect cry.

"So why did you live like this?"
She asked, her voice calm and detached.
"Hm? Why did you do it?"

The director could not answer.
Because he finally understood—
That nothing he said would matter now.

"Oh, and by the way—"
Her voice brightened as she gave his forehead one last tap.
"I entered the orphanage in autumn, not summer."

With that correction, she swung her foot back—
And slammed her boot down onto his forehead.