Why am I the Princess?

A few hours later, Dad took me to the room where Alpha and Beta were. I couldn’t stop smiling, still giddy from the revelation that the building belonged to us.

Is this what it feels like to be a chaebol heir with a rich dad?

All my worries had vanished in an instant.

The world is so bright and clear. My life is, too.

“Ahahaha!”

Standing with my hands clasped behind my back, I gazed out the window like I owned the world. Dad called out to me, his voice tinged with concern.

“Si-yoon, are you okay?”
“Hmm? Of course~”

Kneeling down beside him, I helped brush Alpha and Beta’s fur.

“Si-yoon, do you like money that much?”
“Nope.”

Dad must have seen through my obvious lie because he continued,

“Did I… raise you to feel like you’re lacking something? Why would you think that?”

As he gently brushed Alpha’s fur, his expression turned serious. Without much thought, I replied,

“You told Grandma you only had enough money to raise me.”
“…What?”
“Didn’t you?”

Dad’s face went pale. His voice trembled as he stammered,

“T-that’s not true… You were just starting to talk back then…”

Something about this conversation felt off. I thought back to when I first heard him say those words. That was also the first time I had ever called him Dad.

Shrugging, I said nonchalantly,
“I even remember being in Mom’s belly.”
“…..”

After a long pause, Dad seemed to recall something and muttered,
“Oh… kids can remember things up to around age four, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah. I was bored back then, so I played with this long cord.”

Dad’s face twisted in horror as he processed my words. He stared at me like I’d just confessed to a crime. Then, he quickly pulled out his phone and searched something. After reading for a moment, he relaxed, relieved to confirm I was perfectly normal.

Meanwhile, Beta nuzzled up to me, seeking attention, and I gently stroked her soft chest fur.

By the time I turned five, I had grown noticeably taller, now reaching Dad’s hip.

After my appearance in his music video, someone reached out with an offer for me to model children’s clothing. Curious about the outfits and intrigued by the idea, I thought it might be fun to try.

“It might be tiring,” Dad warned.
“I’ll be fine,” I said with confidence.

At the photoshoot, Dad stood at a distance, holding my bag and watching me closely.

The director, clearly captivated, looked at me with an expression like he’d just fallen in love.

“Jiho, your daughter is amazing! She’s so sharp and natural!”
“Really?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow.

The director nodded vigorously, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

“She’s incredible. Honestly, I’m speechless. It’s like she was born for the camera.”
“Haha…”

After the shoot, Dad, who had initially seemed uncomfortable with the idea of me modeling, quietly flipped through the photos. Eventually, he nodded to himself, taking one of the pictures and slipping it into his wallet.

“Why are you putting it there?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“You should keep it with Mom’s picture.”

Dad froze, staring at his wallet. He hesitated, clearly conflicted, and then began to think deeply, his brows furrowing as he weighed his options.

“…Hold on, I’ll go get more pictures,” Dad said suddenly, leaving the room.

“…..”

I had chosen photos as a way to comfort him, suggesting that putting our pictures in the same box would be an easy way for Mom to see them too—if only symbolically.

Back at home, Dad started cooking dinner.

I sat nearby, watching him work, before grabbing a notebook and pen from the table. Since I’d already mastered music far too quickly, I had turned to drawing as a way to pass the time. Though I wasn’t particularly good at it initially, with practice, I’d managed to reach a level that far surpassed kids my age.

“Ha! My talent knows no bounds!” I declared theatrically.

“What are you doing, Si-yoon?” Dad asked, glancing over.
“Drawing you,” I replied with pride.
“Really?”

He came over to look at my drawing, then stood there silently for a moment.

“…What’s with that reaction?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s amazing~ This is supposed to be me?”

The lack of enthusiasm in his voice made me pretend to tear up the drawing.

“No, no! It’s perfect! You’re so talented—it looks like a photo! Is there anything you can’t do, my daughter?”

I chuckled at his over-the-top praise and set the drawing aside. My skills might have been impressive for a five-year-old, but they were still only comparable to a beginner elementary schooler’s work.

“Do you like drawing, Si-yoon?” Dad asked.
“Do you think there’s anything I don’t like?” I shot back confidently, twirling the pen in my hand.

Dad laughed, shaking his head. “You know, both your mom and I are terrible at drawing. I figured you’d be bad at it too.”
“There’s nothing you can’t do if you work hard,” I replied.
“Hearing that from a five-year-old is… something,” Dad said with a smirk.

I gave him a long, pointed look, making him flinch under my gaze.

“…I’m going to be an artist,” I declared.
“…What?”
“I’ll succeed at the thing I’m worst at, and then I’ll be good at everything.”
“Uh… wouldn’t it make more sense to focus on what you’re already good at?”

I paused, thinking back to past memories, then nodded.

“Then… fighting?”
“…Fighting?” Dad repeated, thinking I was joking.

“Yup. I’m better than you.”
“Oh, come on! Do you know how strong I am?”
“Nope. You’re weak.”

Dad blinked, then rolled up his sleeve and extended his pinky finger. I stared at him, confused.

“Arm wrestle me,” he challenged.

“I’ll destroy you,” I replied with a smirk.

At my words, Dad immediately folded his pinky back and muttered, “…Sorry.”

I watched him cook as I continued sketching, my drawing speed increasing even as my skill seemed to stagnate. It felt like I was mass-producing drawings at this point. Frustrated, I grabbed my phone and searched for “drawing practice.” Following a tutorial, I began copying shapes from the screen.

“Whoa…”