Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: What pleases you

The porcelain teacup trembles slightly as I place it back onto its delicate saucer. I exhale through my nose, steadying the irritation bubbling beneath my carefully composed exterior. The tea, despite its floral fragrance and the precise temperature at which it was brewed, is beginning to taste like regret.

Across from me, Mara and Elira stand like statues—too practiced, too quiet. Their silence has grown unnerving. I can almost feel their shared amusement beneath their obedient facades, both undoubtedly aware of what’s coming. I narrow my eyes at them. Elira responds with the faintest curve of her lips, while Mara, ever the instigator, pretends to straighten the folds of my gown. Bold move.

The salon doors creak open with a softness that belies the chaos I instinctively know will follow. I allow myself one fleeting moment to close my eyes and wish for sudden death. A sharp, amused whisper coils through my mind like smoke.

[You know, death would be too merciful. You’re not that lucky.]

My jaw clenches. Not now.

[Oh, come on. It’s adorable how you still hope.]

I’m going to rip this system apart someday.

“Your Highness,” a simpering voice cuts through the tension like a blunt knife. “Might we trouble you for a moment?”

Trouble me? They already have.

I open my eyes to find a trio of nobles bowing just enough to feign deference but not enough to hide their wide-eyed curiosity. They’re not even subtle about it. Their expensive brocades shimmer in the soft light, their jewel-laden fingers twitching with anticipation. I can already hear the questions bubbling behind their carefully polite smiles. Their curiosity is less about respect and more about the irresistible allure of someone with power they can’t yet understand.

The tallest of the trio, a young man whose hair is slicked back so tightly it seems to stretch his forehead, takes an awkward step forward. “We were just wondering… what might Your Highness find… enjoyable?”

Enjoyable?

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” he falters, glancing at his companions for support, “we thought, given your… impressive lineage and esteemed presence, it would be an honor to know what pleases you. Hobbies, perhaps? Interests?”

Ah. This is what it’s come to. I could topple empires, incinerate entire battalions, and yet the pinnacle of noble curiosity is whether I prefer embroidery or equestrian pursuits. I inhale slowly, summoning patience I don’t possess.

[Tell them you enjoy collecting the tears of your enemies. I dare you.]

My lips twitch. Tempting.

“I find many things… pleasing,” I reply at last, my voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge that none of them seem perceptive enough to catch. “However, my tastes are… particular.”

They exchange glances like children plotting mischief. The shorter noblewoman, her golden curls arranged in a towering masterpiece that defies gravity and reason, flutters her lashes. “Oh! Might Your Highness share a few of these particular… tastes?”

I lean back in my chair, the slow, deliberate movement causing a ripple of unease. I have no intention of indulging them, but denying them entirely will only encourage further pestering. I need them to regret asking.

[I’m genuinely curious how you’ll traumatize them. No pressure.]

“Let’s see…” I tap a finger against my lower lip, feigning deep contemplation. “I do enjoy… experimenting.”

Their eyes light up. Predictable.

“Experimenting, Your Highness?” the young man prompts eagerly.

“Yes,” I muse. “Alchemy, of course. There’s something gratifying about testing volatile substances. Particularly when one discovers just how… flammable certain materials can be.”

The noblewoman’s smile falters.

[Good start. They’ll rethink wearing all that silk.]

I lean forward, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “And then there’s… taxidermy.”

The third noble, a slender young man with the complexion of someone who has never seen direct sunlight, visibly pales. “T-Taxidermy?”

“Indeed. The precision required to preserve something perfectly, to ensure its beauty remains intact… it’s an art form.”

There’s a distinct shuffle as they edge back a fraction.

[This is beautiful. I’m so proud of you.]

I’m not finished. “Of course, there’s always my fondness for… dissecting the minds of those around me. Understanding what makes them tick. What they fear most.” My smile doesn’t reach my eyes. “Fascinating, wouldn’t you agree?”

The trio’s enthusiasm has diminished to an awkward silence, their eyes flicking toward the exit.

“Your Highness is… most intriguing,” the golden-haired noblewoman stammers, her voice brittle.

[I think she’s reconsidering all her life choices.]

I raise my teacup, my tone sickeningly sweet. “You have no idea.”

Unfortunately, before they can scramble away, another voice chimes in from the doorway.

“Oh! Is this where everyone has gathered?”

No. No, no, no.

A flood of nobles begins pouring into the salon like an invading horde, their faces alight with insufferable curiosity. My eyes widen fractionally as I realize the salon, once comfortably spacious, is rapidly filling beyond capacity. The growing crowd presses in, forming a semi-circle around me like moths to a particularly unimpressed flame.

[This is exquisite. You’ve become a zoo exhibit.]

My fingers tighten around the teacup, considering if it can double as a weapon.

“Your Highness, is it true that you trained under Grand Warlord Eryndor himself?” one noble calls out from the back, pushing forward to be seen.

“And Grand Empress Saelira?” another adds, practically bouncing on her heels. “She’s simply legendary!”

“Is it also true,” someone else interrupts, “that you’ve never lost a duel?”

I blink at the onslaught of questions. This is no longer a polite inquiry; this is an interrogation disguised as flattery. I open my mouth to respond when another, louder question cuts through the noise.

“What about love, Your Highness? Do you have any… special preferences?”

The room falls silent.

[This is better than any comedy I could’ve orchestrated.]

My face betrays nothing, though I internally consider spontaneous combustion as an escape route.

“I find romance,” I drawl, my gaze sharp, “a distraction.”

“Surely, Your Highness, there must be someone who’s caught your eye,” a particularly bold noble ventures, leaning in as though proximity will yield secrets.

My smile is all teeth. “Yes. My sword.”

[You absolute menace.]

A ripple of nervous laughter echoes through the crowd, though many immediately divert their gazes. Satisfied, I take another deliberate sip of tea.

Unfortunately, the crowd only thickens. Some nobles, emboldened by the momentary levity, step closer, their excitement barely contained.

“Your Highness, is it true you once turned an entire battalion to ash with a single spell?”

“Do you really practice magic daily?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

My eye twitches. I can handle political maneuvers, assassination attempts, even the occasional existential crisis. But this? This is agony.

[If you survive this, I’ll upgrade your patience stat. No promises.]

I inhale deeply. “One at a time.”

Naturally, they ignore me.

Mara and Elira exchange a glance, struggling to maintain their decorum. Mara’s shoulders shake slightly. She’s enjoying this far too much.

My fingers drum against the table. I need an exit strategy. Something dramatic. Or violent. Possibly both.

[You could set the curtains on fire. I’m just saying.]

Tempting. But then I’d have to deal with my grandparents’ disappointment. That’s a far worse fate than this circus.

As the questions continue to pile up, my patience wears thin. I stand abruptly, the sudden movement enough to startle the nearest nobles into silence.

“I believe,” I say, voice cold enough to chill the air, “I’ve answered enough questions for one day.”

“But Your Highness—”

I raise a hand, and the room falls silent. “I said… enough.”

The weight of my authority settles over them like a heavy fog. Slowly, reluctantly, they begin to retreat, though not without casting lingering glances my way.

[That was fun. We should do this every day.]

“Shut up.”

[Never.]

As the salon finally empties, I sit back down with a sigh, rubbing my temples. Mara and Elira, no longer able to contain themselves, burst into laughter.

“Enjoy yourselves?” I mutter darkly.

“Immensely,” Mara grins.