Thumb Princess, It’s Okay to Be Small
Back when they lived at the Wedgewood Marquis estate, Imelin, Philip, and Helena often went to watch plays.
One day, they saw a play titled
“Thumb Princess and the Prince.”
The story was about a tiny princess who unexpectedly comes to a country girl’s life as a cute adopted daughter. One day, she gets kidnapped by a toad, plunging into all kinds of trials and adventures, and ultimately falls in love with a prince just as small as she is.
“Ah, where did that brat run off to?!”
As expected, Philip was completely distracted—love stories or not, he couldn’t focus—and disappeared as soon as the play ended.
Helena, tired and worried, went searching for Philip. Around that time, the Wedgewood Marquis had begun to show signs of suspicion and jealousy, nagging Helena harshly even if she was a little late coming home. So she was anxious.
“...He’s handsome.”
“What?”
Helena was distractedly following the young men she thought were Philip with her eyes. Meanwhile, Imelin, sitting beside her, murmured while staring at the pamphlet.
“What are you looking at?”
Imelin’s ears were flushed red. Helena, curious, glanced at the corner of the pamphlet Imelin was focusing on.
There was a photo of the actor playing the tiny prince.
The actor was pale, cute, and handsome—white skin, red lips—like a flower deer transformed into a human.
But unlike other plays where female fans lined up outside the male actors’ dressing rooms after the show, nobody waited for him this time.
Probably because he was short.
Even Helena, who usually cared deeply about a man’s appearance, wasn’t drawn to the tiny prince.
It seemed the troupe had deliberately cast a dwarf half-blood for the Thumb Princess and Prince roles. He was far too small to compare with an adult human and looked more like a fourteen-year-old boy.
That fragile, small male actor didn’t get much applause even during curtain calls, but he smiled brightly like a great cultivator basking in his first breakthrough and bowed to the audience with sincere gratitude.
“He’s... small,” Helena said.
Imelin glared at Helena with a look Helena had never seen before.
There’s... a killing intent in those eyes?
“…Even if he’s small, that’s fine. Being small is better,” Imelin muttered.
Her finger twitched over the pamphlet. Seeing that, Helena felt something she couldn’t bear welling up inside.
Let’s go, Imelin!
I rescued you from that place, but it feels like you’re still stuck there.
Like you’re still twelve years old.
You’re still as small as a thumb, and I fear you won’t be able to adapt to this huge world that Philip and I live in, and that you’ll leave it behind.
Watching Imelin lost in her own thoughts, Helena clenched her fist without realizing it.
Whenever Imelin looked that deep in thought, Helena would scold her.
What are you thinking about? Speak up! You have to speak so Mom and Philip can understand!
But that day, Helena didn’t want to scold her.
Instead, she stopped a passing merchant and bought a single rose from him, then held it out to Imelin.
“Here, go give it to him.”
“...Who?”
“Who else but that actor.”
“No way!”
Imelin shouted, her face turning red.
“My feelings aren’t some dirty thing! I just thought he was pure and handsome!”
“Where’s the purity in that...?”
Helena was left speechless.
‘Who does she take after, being so picky about a man’s looks?’
Well, who else could it be?
Helena squatted down in front of Emelline and spoke softly.
“Then give it to him secretly. Not for his sake—do it for yours. You’ll feel better once it’s done.”
Emelline’s voice trembled as she asked,
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Emelline hesitated for a moment, then her expression shifted into sudden resolve. Without warning, she snatched the rose from Helena’s hand and bolted toward the backstage dressing rooms as if she’d never hesitated at all.
Helena chased after her. At first she just walked, but before long, she had to break into a run.
‘Does this girl not see her own mother trailing after her?!’
She only stopped when she saw Emelline slip through the door to the male actor’s dressing room—the one playing the prince.
It was then she felt it deep in her gut.
‘That damned girl... the moment she finds something—or someone—she likes, she’ll throw away her mother and brother without hesitation.’
There’s no helping it. I’ll have to let her go.
Just as Helena was thinking this, a familiar voice rang out from the opposite dressing room—the one for the female cast.
“Was your father a thief, by chance?”
“…Huh?”
“He must’ve stolen those spirit gems, then placed them in your eyes…”
Helena brought a hand to her forehead.
“Philip…!”
Peering through the open door, she saw the unmistakable back of her son. He turned at her voice, caught in the act of trying to flirt with an actress.
“Oh, Mother? Where have you been? I’ve been searching all over! I was lost, and then this kind lady here—”
Now that she looked at him, Helena realized something: her son and daughter weren’t so different. Both were far too much like their mother.
✵
✵
✵
She stayed up all night, wide awake.
Sleeping would only bring unpleasant dreams.
The temporary quarters arranged by Young Lord Eric were inside a small inn nestled in the middle of the city. The room was narrow, unclean, and filled with the constant drunken noise from outside—but oddly, it felt comforting. Familiar, even.
Two of Eric’s guards stood outside—one at the door, the other at the inn’s main entrance.
‘Are they protecting me… or watching me?’
I looked down at the wooden floor with a sour taste in my mouth. The lingering bitterness from that 100,000 gold still hadn’t left me.
Just then, a knock.
‘Who could it be?’
“It’s me.”
A low, resonant voice from beyond the door. Eric.
Wait, didn’t he say he wouldn’t be coming today?
I hurried to open the door.
He stood there, unmoving, even after it opened.
“…?”
I looked up at him, puzzled.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for permission to enter.”
I stared at him in disbelief. What was this, a noble’s estate? Would’ve made more sense if he’d gotten me a proper mansion to go with that attitude.
“You’re seriously the weirdest person… Just come in. Or stand there all night if you prefer.”
Eric stepped in, visibly hesitant.
“This room… is filthier than I expected.”
“Yeah, thanks to someone I know.”
I snapped back and plopped onto the creaking bed.
“There are too many eyes around a decent place.”
Eric lingered awkwardly, having to hunch slightly under the inn’s low ceiling.
“Don’t tell me I need to assign you a place to sit?”
“I won’t be sitting.”
Ha… of course. Judging by that expression like he’s never stepped into such a cramped, filthy place before, just breathing in here must be torture for someone like him.
Then again… why did he bother coming here?
I looked at Eric, who stood in an awkward posture, silent and visibly uncomfortable.
“…Did you see the portrait?”
I pointed to the photo on the table. Lily had brought it earlier. It was taken in the Imperial Garden—me and Eric, standing side by side.
Eric walked over and picked it up.
“See? You’re smiling in it, aren’t you?”
The developed photo must’ve already been sent to the newspapers tonight. In the picture, Eric was smiling brightly.
“…I wasn’t smiling.”
As if. Eric glanced at me, then muttered under his breath.
“Maybe I was copying you.”
“…?”
“Lady Helena came to the duke’s estate.”
Helena.
The moment that name was spoken, the thoughts I had just managed to push away began creeping back in. The image of my mother’s delighted face as she toured the spirit temple where the wedding ceremony would take place…
“H-how… how did she look?”
“She didn’t seem too shaken.”
Eric answered plainly, setting the photo down.
Well… I suppose she wouldn’t have shown any reaction, not after I wrote her a letter filled with explosives—mentioning pregnancy and betrayal. No way she’d let that show at the duchy.
“She didn’t look like she was trying to find you.”
Eric walked to the window and glanced down at the city cloaked in night.
“…She probably never imagined I’d betray her.”
My voice turned gloomy.
Even if it was the only way for me, Philip, and my mother to survive… this was still too much. I’d blown up her marriage in the worst possible way.
“Do you want to stop?”
“…What?”
The unexpected question came as Eric approached. On the way over, he picked up the ring that had been sitting on the table.
“I’m asking if you want to stop all this—even now.”
I looked up, meeting his crimson eyes.
Seeing myself reflected in those blood-red pupils brought my foresight dream vividly back to life—Mother collapsed, Philip unconscious, and the smug, hunter-like grin on Valdek Orléans’s face as if he'd just taken down prized prey.
My brows drew together.
“Why are you asking that? Are you the one who wants to quit?”
Because even someone that twisted… was still his father?
‘I’m your father! Your only blood! You think you can live without me?!’
I remembered someone yelling that once.
Family, bound by blood.
How ridiculous those words sounded.
And yet… the reality of the situation finally sank in. Here I was, in a dingy little inn, locked in a room with a man twice my size. If he decided to kill me now, I wouldn’t be able to resist. Not unless I leapt through the window again.
I glanced toward the window.
“What? Planning to jump out again?”
Eric let out a short laugh. Why was he laughing? It was irritating.
“There’s no way I’d win in a fight against you,” I snapped. “Even if you’re not some aura-wielding swordsman.”
At the mention of “aura swordsman,” Eric’s expression flickered with an odd hint of surprise. He hesitated, then spoke quietly—
“I won’t stop. There’s something I must uncover about my mother’s death.”
A shadow darkened his gaze.
So, in the end, it’s about bloodline again.
Just as protecting Philip and Helena fuels my strength, safeguarding the honor of the bloodline drives this man. No matter how much he tests me with talk of a hundred thousand gold, what matters most to him remains unchanged.
Enemy or ally—does that really matter now?
I stared into the unprecedented shadow lurking in his eyes.
Our true enemy is Valdeck Orléans.
That truth is the most important.
“I must protect Mom and Philip. I must protect myself, too. Family protects each other.”
“Family protects each other…”
Eric quietly echoed my words, then knelt before me. In his hand was the ring he’d earlier taken from the table.
‘Put it on.’
I expected him to say that, but instead, he didn’t.
Instead, he extended his hand to me—as if offering a pact sealed by a handshake.
Entranced, I reached out my hand.
He took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger.
‘This is definitely a true diamond ring,’ I thought even then.
A fake marriage with a real ring—what an ill-fitting combination.
He smiled awkwardly and said,
“Be honest with me.”
“Always honest.”
“……”
I fell silent.
“I did doubt you. And maybe I will again in the future…”
“Oh, joy.”
“Fake or real, I am your husband. I will protect you, and if anything happens to you, I will come.”
Eric spoke with his usual solemn expression.
“That’s a promise. I’m a man who always keeps his promises.”
A man who always keeps his promises…
Who didn’t know that?
Damn it.
I was grateful that this inn room was so miserable and dark—not even a single light—because my face was burning as I fought back tears.
It was a night of betrayal.
Philip, who said family always stays together, and Helena, who said family protects one another, would call me a traitor tomorrow.
Only this man before me—Eric Orléans—would, oddly enough, become my family.
Those I thought closest would drift far away, and the one I thought farthest would come closest.
It was a night where friend and foe swapped places.
Chapter 32