I Became the Assassin Family's Foster Daughter (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16

“Another door?”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Yan turned around at Riche’s muttering. Riche shook her head and asked Pythons,

‘Where to?’

Pythons poked his head out of her pocket and sniffed.

[The third door. There’s something there.]

‘Another Great Star?’

[No, something more interesting than that.]

More interesting?

Though she didn’t understand right away, Riche asked Yan if she could enter the door Pythons had mentioned.

“Hmm, the third door? That’s the library used by the former head of the household. He had a rather old-fashioned hobby of collecting ancient items, so I’m not sure there’ll be any books suitable for a young lady like you—but would you still like to go in?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Riche nodded. Perhaps thinking it was merely a child’s innocent curiosity, Yan readily took out a key and unlocked the door.

Inside was a spacious two-story library bathed in a soft blue light.

It felt calm and dignified.

True to the previous owner’s reputation for collecting old objects, the library held not only books but also various other items on display.

“Let’s see… picture books…”

Yan scanned the library with her eyes, searching for where picture books might be kept.

She seemed ready to help look for them, but Riche had entered this library for a different reason.

“Um… Yan, I’d like to look around alone.”

At Riche’s carefully worded request—lest she hurt Yan’s feelings—Yan cheerfully nodded.

“Would you? Please feel free to explore. This space is entirely open to you, my lady. Just please be careful not to damage anything—that would put me in quite a difficult position.”

“Yes, I’ll be very careful!”

“Thank you. If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll be right in the lobby.”

Yan chuckled softly, turned on the library lights, and left, closing the door behind her.

Riche stood alone in the now-brighter center of the library.

“What should I do now?”

But there was no reply.

Riche lowered her head. Her pocket was empty.

“Pythons?”

“Over here! Right here!”

It was the light, cheerful voice she hadn’t heard in a while. It came from deep inside the library, between rows of bookshelves spaced at regular intervals.

Riche walked toward the sound, but all she saw were shelves packed tightly with books.

“Where are you?”

“Down diagonally!”

Following the direction of the voice, she spotted a squirrel’s body half-stuck in the narrow gap between a bookshelf and the wall.

Its short legs wriggled, and its tail stood stiffly upright.

“…What are you doing there?”

“There’s something I need to pull out. Ugh. Why won’t it come loose? I feel like I’m almost there.”

Pythons squeaked in frustration, trying to extract something from the gap.

On the shelf beside him sat a mirror about the size of a plate—Riche worried he might knock it over in his struggle.

Carefully cradling the mirror, Riche crouched down behind it and asked Pythons,

“Do you just need to pull that out? Should I do it for you?”

“No, I’m the so-called Great Star—I should be able to handle this much… Aaah! I slipped!”

At the same moment as his startled cry, a hard, bead-like object dropped from the gap and rolled across the floor.

Pythons wriggled free from the crevice, dashed around the far end of the bookshelf on all fours, and ran off. Riche followed.

After passing about four bookshelves, they reached a small empty space, barely the size of one pyeong.

Pythons pressed himself against the wall there and tapped the marble floor.

“Did it fall beneath the floor?”

“Yeah… Damn it. Looks like there was a hole right where it dropped. Ugh. It went pretty deep. Is there a space under the floor?”

Riche joined Pythons and examined the floor together.

The solid-looking floor seemed impossible to break through with ordinary strength.

“What was it? A bead?”

“A star fragment.”

“What’s that?”

Pythons explained to the curious Riche.

“Every few decades, some stars get tired of their tombs and cross over into the human world. But most can’t return and gradually lose their power here. Once they lose even the strength to maintain their sense of self, the star reaches the end of its life and begins to petrify.”

“You mean it turns into stone?”

“Exactly. It becomes a small stone, about the size of a pearl. That’s a star fragment. Didn’t I tell you? Every star, strong or weak, has its own unique ability. That ability is infused into the fragment—anyone who possesses it can use that power.”

Riche tilted her head in confusion. If such an extraordinary stone existed, she surely would have heard of it before.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Of course not. There are very few star fragments in the human world, and they’re tiny—almost impossible to find. Only someone like me, who can detect stars, could spot one. And even if humans did find one, would they even recognize it as a star? They wouldn’t even know what it is.”

That’s probably why the previous owner left it lying around carelessly, not knowing what it was.

Muttering to himself, Pythons fell into thought as he stared at the floor.

Then he looked up at Riche. His dark, sunflower-seed-like eyes sparkled with desire.

“Contractor, shall we put our training to the test?”

The ability Riche had been training Pythons in was destruction.

In other words, he was suggesting she use her power to break the floor and retrieve the star fragment.

“No.”

Understanding his intent, Riche shook her head, still holding the mirror she’d taken from the shelf.

“Yan said it herself—she’d be in trouble if we damaged anything.”

“But this is incredibly valuable in the human world! Just break one floor tile. I’ll pull it out myself!”

“Only if you can restore it exactly as it was. If not, then no.”

“That’s impossible, Contractor. My power is specialized for combat, after all. But hey—what if we cover the broken spot with something else? No one would ever notice!”

Unfortunately, Pythons had destructive power but no ability to restore things.

If it couldn’t be perfectly repaired, it was better not to touch it at all.

After several attempts to persuade her, and seeing Riche remain firmly opposed, Pythons huffed in frustration.

“Why is my tiny contractor so ungreedy!”

He had good reason to feel disappointed.

Judging by the star’s aura he’d sensed, it was the fragment of a moderately powerful star in its lifetime.

Whatever ability it held would surely be useful.

[Over there.]

“But still, no.”

[Are you even listening to me?]

“I heard you, but no means no.”

Riche answered out of habit, then suddenly felt puzzled.

The voice came through her ears—not in her head—and Pythons hadn’t moved his mouth even once.

Who am I talking to right now?

Pythons seemed just as bewildered. He blinked at Riche and opened his mouth.

“…I didn’t say anything.”

An eerie chill ran down Riche’s spine as the atmosphere shifted strangely.

[Over there.]

The voice came again. It was the mirror.

“Ee—eek!”

Startled, Riche dropped the mirror she’d been holding.

With a soft thud, the mirror landed face-down on the floor, followed by an ominous gurgle.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Oh? You came out early today.”

Yan greeted Deon as he emerged from the private library.

Deon usually stayed inside for hours, but this time he’d come out in less than an hour.

“Just felt like it.”

Deon glanced casually around the lobby and asked,

“…Where’s she?”

“Miss Riche? She’s in the library.”

“Still?”

How long could it possibly take to pick out a picture book?

Deon instinctively headed toward the second door—children’s books were usually kept there.

But behind him, Yan rose from her desk in the lobby and called out,

“She went into the third library—the former head’s private collection.”

“The third one?”

Deon paused mid-step, frowning.

The third one. No wonder she was taking so long.

‘That place is full of strange things.’

The Rodwick family only came into the public eye starting with the previous head. Before that, they’d been deeply entrenched in the shadows as an assassin lineage.

The library Riche had entered was packed with the eccentric collection amassed by the head before last during those shadowy days.

“How’s she supposed to find children’s books in there?”

Grumbling as if he were already an adult, Deon changed direction.

Yan watched his retreating back and smiled silently.

He’s utterly smitten with Miss Riche.

“Hey, mutt. There’s nothing for you here—go somewhere else—”

Just as Deon opened the library door and began speaking inward, something small darted toward the open doorway from inside.

“Oh, Oppa!”

Silver hair gleaming, round silver eyes shining—it was Riche.

She ran up and clung tightly to Deon’s waist, her face pale with fear.

Deon’s crimson eyes widened in shock.

“Hey, what’s wrong?!”

At his urgent question, Riche squeezed her eyes shut, tears welling up, and cried out,

“Gh—gh—ghost!”

“What?”

“A ghost!”

What was this kid talking about? A spy, maybe—but a ghost?

Deon looked down at Riche’s trembling head, then turned his gaze into the library.

Given how desperately she’d run out, he’d expected something chasing her—but the library was utterly silent.

“There’s nothing there.”

“There is!”

Riche shouted.

‘So noisy.’

They really should leave. Frowning, Deon stepped forward. Riche clung to him like a baby koala as he walked.

“Miss Riche, are you alright?”

At the sound of Yan’s voice approaching them, Riche lifted her deeply bowed head.

“Yan, I’m sorry! I broke something—I’ll tell Father myself…! But you mustn’t touch it, Yan! It’s a gh—gh—ghost—!”

“Huh?”

“Hey, just get on my back.”

Annoyed, Deon peeled the sniffling Riche off his waist and hoisted her onto his back.

“Master Deon, Miss Riche—”

“Leave it. Don’t tell Father. I’ll handle it myself.”

Yan nodded.

Carrying the terrified Riche on his back, Deon left the library.

[This is the timeline separator]

“……”

A quiet corridor in a grand mansion.

A blond boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, stepped out from a secluded room and closed the door behind him.

He was dressed like a noble young master.

Though his complexion looked unwell, his delicate features still shone brightly.

The boy walked down the corridor, letting out a slight cough.

“Young Master!”

A shrill voice called out to stop him.

It was the head maid of the mansion.

“You haven’t taken your medicine.”

The head maid stepped firmly in front of the boy, her approach almost threatening.

Beneath his well-shaped eyebrows, golden eyes looked up at her.

“I feel fine today, so—”

“The Duke instructed you to take it every day.”

The head maid cut off his words with firm resolve.

Then she held out a medicine bottle toward him.

“Take it. It’s today’s dose.”

“……”

The familiar scent drifted from the opened bottle, but his hand hesitated to reach for it.

He’d been frail since childhood. They’d told him this medicine would cure his chronic illness, and he’d taken it daily—but strangely, the more he took it, the worse he felt.

“I don’t want to take it today…”

“Take it.”

Her attitude was unyielding, as if she wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Reluctantly, the boy accepted the bottle.

The medicine slid down his throat. To distract himself from its bitter taste, he focused his thoughts elsewhere.

‘Who was that?’

It was a mirror—one of his mother’s keepsakes—but it reflected nothing.

Occasionally, the boy would enter the room where her belongings were kept and quietly stare at that mirror.

Today, however…

[Why is my tiny contractor so ungreedy!]

The moment he touched the mirror, he saw the image of a squirrel kicking its legs and raising its arms, accompanied by a light, frustrated voice.

Startled, the boy held his breath for a moment, then cautiously spoke to the mirror.

This time, he heard a girl’s voice—but all he saw was still just the squirrel.

‘Who’s speaking?’

Curious about the voice’s owner, he was disappointed when it suddenly fell silent after a couple of exchanges.

Was this the end? Impatient, the boy spoke to the mirror again.

“Hello.”

[Eeek!]

A girl’s startled shriek, a small silhouette looking up from below, and a soft popping sound.

Then the mirror returned to showing nothing at all.

‘Will I hear it again?’

Perhaps the silhouette’s owner was the one speaking.

The boy handed the empty medicine bottle back to the head maid.