I was the perfect spy raised by the Pope.
To steal the heirloom of the Crytan Ducal House, I tried to infiltrate by drinking a shrinking potion.
“Why are my hands so small? What’s with my voice? Ah! My pronunciation! Why am I so short?”
But something went wrong, and I became a five-year-old child.
If I fail the mission, only death awaits.
To survive, I tried to do something in a five-year-old’s body.
“Reponia Crytan. From today, you will be my daughter.”
I was adopted as the youngest daughter of the Ducal House.
Fine! I was going to use them to find the heirloom anyway!
Since it’s come to this, I might as well properly enjoy the Ducal House until I’m kicked out.
That was definitely the plan…,
So why are these people so kind to me, when we don’t even share blood?
I only infiltrated through adoption for the mission.
I shouldn’t have pointless expectations—I need to run away.
But my feet keep refusing to leave.
Is it okay for me to want this?