Revenge Fantasy

"Hello, little girl. What is that you are drawing?"

"... a butterfly. The ones in the park."

"Well, that is a beautiful butterfly you have."

"T... thank you..."

Charles Ashford. Head of the Ashford name, a businessman of high standing with "single bachelor" plastered all over his aged face. He has come to the point where he must seek an heir, but cannot father a child naturally. Thus, whilst he still has his years, the man resorted to adoption. Searching for the child of another to inherit the Ashford name and fortune.

Charles believed that his search would bear no fruit, however. Finding a child worthy of such honor and privilege was no easy matter. The child must be gifted and academic, a rare occurrence for those... orphans. After all, talented children are useful to their families. There would be no reason to give up a child who is already intelligent and capable.

Furthermore, none of the children he tested through conventional methods were up to Ashford standards. The academically successful either already belong to another family or have a history of being undesirable and rotten. For the latter, it was often due to their spoiled upbringing occurring once their intelligence was discovered.

Going through common orphanages was the better option, Charles thought. However, there lay another issue: only a fool would discard a good child. As much as Charles did not want to admit it, the typical orphan was a blind gambit of intelligence. When they are young, they have "room to grow" in vague amounts, all dependent on nature on top of their nurture. Upon reaching testing age, the child's intelligence may often be either average or poor, leading to a wasted effort.

It was not impossible to find success, of course, but average was not what Charles was looking for.

It broke Charles's heart to know how picky he is, but he must be strong. He may contribute and invest all he wants in their futures, but the man was searching to parent an heir. For a child born under another name, they must not be average. They must be exceptional. They must have the potential to lead, maintain, and grow the Ashford name. Just as Charles did, and his father before him. He must find a prized jewel, required to shine amongst the Ashford's collection through hardship and dedication.

And he found one such gem in the orphanage on 7th. A red-eyed child with long black hair, meek in mannerisms, and modest in attire. While the other children were off playing, this one was by her lonesome underneath the dining room table.

Charles curiously went to greet the girl whilst the staff were preparing documents. His eye caught a glimpse of her drawing, seeing a red butterfly flying amidst an open grassland. It was bright red, with thick black outlines. A butterfly amidst skies of blue and fields of green.

"Hmm. By any chance, is this a monarch butterfly?"

"No... it's a viceroy."

"A viceroy?"

"Yes... this part of the wing. There is a line... monarchs don't have that... s... so..."

Monarch butterflies. Viceroy butterflies. Monarchs and viceroys. Kings and queens, and their representatives.

In the civilized, human world, a viceroy is quite literally a vice royal. A vice king. A public face for a country empowered to act in the sovereign's name, as if they were the very king of that country. Not unlike the natural world, where viceroy butterflies mimic the monarch butterfly for survival, utilizing the colorful properties to avert predators due to looking unpalatable.

The two types of butterflies share the most minute of details that separate them, details that most would disregard and group into merely the same butterfly. This little girl has the care and precision to detail to draw a butterfly to the exact detail, adding that very line on its wings that differentiates the two variations. With a simple pencil and a box of crayons, she put to paper a beautiful work of nature. Having the word to back up her vision, able to discern the most minuscule of characteristics in these insects.

Impressive.

"Ah... fascinating creatures, these are. My, and you've colored it red?"

"... yes... red is... pretty..."

"It is, yes. Quite the artwork. And you've signed it as well, how wonderful. Cursive?"

"Y... Yes... it is nice... the letters look pretty..."

The signature read "Chouko", scribbled childishly. Yet, she found the care to draw it in cursive, a flowing penmanship that carried formality and grace. In Chouko's words, as Charles agreed, the letters look pretty.

Charles later learned more about this little girl while examining the documentation, seeing her name stand out amongst the forms presented to him. Chouko was six years of age, with half-Japanese and half-English blood in her veins. Beyond this information, her origins elude the orphanage, as she was simply left on the doorstep one day.

Chouko had yet to be enlisted in the education system, as she is not yet of age. However, she showed an active desire and proficiency to learn. Caretakers have experience with the girl being a quick study, able to retain information far better than any of the other kids.

Charles was given a straightforward summary that Chouko loved books and adored them with all her heart. That was all he needed to know.

... and during his time at the orphanage, Charles did not learn of how deep this love went.

The caretakers went through extensive efforts to omit certain obsessive and complicated details. They neglected to tell Charles of the times when Chouko lost herself in the books the orphanage had.

Curiously, Chouko has miraculously managed to memorize each page of the orphanage's books, capable of reciting anything she's read from memory. This included several pages of pop-up books, fairy tales, and - comedically, one time - the basic ideas from Shakespeare's Macbeth, brought into the orphanage one time by a caretaker's son.

Staff never figured out how much Chouko understood from it, from the secondary school novel, but she was decently far in the novel when they confiscated it.

On top of her taking the novel, she regularly bothered staff with requests for new books every so often when bored. Something that the orphanage could not readily do in an instant, so she was told by the caretakers to play with the children instead. Whenever talking with the other children, however, Chouko often attempted to talk about and discuss the books to the dismay of the children that have yet to be told the orphanage's stories.

Thus, she would spend playtime either by her lonesome or with her mouth closed at all times. The cause of her passive, timid self. The root cause of her soft-spoken voice, when she spoke with Charles.

"Chouko. Is that your name?"

"Y... Yes... C... Chouko... I am Chouko..."

"Chouko... fascinating. You have a wonderful name, Chouko."

"... thank you..."

Unbeknownst to Charles, this little girl was far more troublesome than any of the other children. A man of Charles Ashford's esteem could do far better with any of the other children. Far less stubborn, far less pestering.

However, even if he were told of Chouko's difficulty, nothing could sway Charles. At that very moment, Charles had a strong hunch that Chouko was the excellent child he was looking for. Charles would have interpreted these "acts of trouble" as her showing persistence and perseverance. The child knew what she wanted and sought to claim it. Even so, she also had the politeness to back down when denied, to comply with her caretakers' orders and suggestions.

Behavior fit for a person of wealth.

A part of him already believed that if anyone was deserving of the prestige of being heir to the Ashford fortune, Chouko was a strong contender. Polite, well-mannered, artistically skilled. She has plentiful amounts of potential, potential fit for an upstanding lady of the Ashford name.

Even before knowing anything else about her, her name alone caused Charles to ponder deeply about her candidacy.

The meaning of the name, Chouko, was "butterfly child". The butterfly is a symbol of the soul in various Japanese folklore, with ancient mythology holding beliefs that butterflies were the messengers of the gods. There was some poetic beauty with this butterfly child, in this very moment, drawing a butterfly. Artistically drawing her very own namesake, possibly showing reverence to the name her parents have bestowed upon her.

Charles found significance in this coincidence, especially with how knowledgeable he was about his own name. Great men throughout history shared the name, Charles, from royals and rulers to several pioneers of science and arts.

Charles was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. This child impressed him far more than any other. This was to be a difficult search, and he found rose-eyed gold amidst trash.

He took the chance. He found his heir.

"If, by chance, the orphanage will permit me to do so, would you like to be adopted today?"

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"... today...?"

"Not to get your hopes up, but yes. I see a promising potential future with you as an Ashford, Chouko. As my daughter."

"... then... sure..."

And thus, once the paperwork was in order, Charles became the father and primary caretaker of Chouko Ashford. He no longer needed to search, for he had found the perfect inheritor.

There was something to be said about this feeling, of watching a little girl's eyes sparkle with hope and joy. Escorting a timid child to her new future, walking out the door alongside her, Charles brought Chouko one step closer to greatness.

Right outside, a large and shiny black car waited for the two, driven by a chauffeur. Chouko entered the car first, and Charles after, the two sitting comfortably in the backseat. To Charles's knowledge, this was the first time Chouko was ever in a car of this quality.

There was something indescribably precious to Charles about seeing a child's joy unfolding before him, especially one that he was now caring for. A child's smile is and has always been the symbol of joy and purity, of the best parts of innocence and wonder. Charles took pride in this.

"Chouko, do you like big houses?"

"... big... houses? Like... uhm... this big?"

"No, no, your new home is much larger. I cannot wait for you to see it for yourself."

"U-Uhm... I see..."

The car took a right turn at a gate, stopping right in front of it. Black, metallic bars reinforced with the finest of steel. A man in a box is seen, looking at the passengers in the back seat. A wave and a smile to the little girl, with Chouko staring back... waving back to him.

Charles sat back and waited. He waited for the moment that Chouko's hopes and dreams would shine brighter than gold itself, than any star in the sky. An orphan of her background would need all the time in the world to ready themselves, and still not be prepared for the grandeur of her new shelter.

Then, with a press of a button, the gates opened, and the car drove along.

Nothing could have prepared Chouko for how big the Ashford residence was. Charles watched as Chouko stared out at the expansive fields of grass. Well kept, well tended. Small, white circles of spotlights shone on both sides of the path. The little girl's eyes were focused on them.

... and once close enough, the view of the big house became clear. A massive manor awaited the car, its windows brightly lit in luxurious yellow and white. Two stories tall, something that Chouko's eyes were glued to once the car circled the water fountain.

Charles exited the car first and held his hand out to Chouko. He helped her out of the vehicle and allowed his hand to be held. Every step of their footwear echoed out against fine concrete as Charles walked and led her forward to the manor.

For a moment, Chouko's hand began to shake, and Charles felt she was scared and intimidated by the sheer size of her new home. The grandeur and wonder of it all got to her.

In response, Charles gently wrapped his fingers to hold Chouko's hand as well. Reassuring her and leading her forward, looking down at her and smiling.

"I am here. Are you uncomfortable? Is something upsetting you about the manor?"

"... a-are there... any monsters in there...?"

"Of course not, Chouko. If there were, I shall keep you company, and I will keep you safe."

"O... oh... okay...!"

Chouko looked at her father, and her red eyes blinked at him a couple of times. The shaking lessened, and she felt safe at that moment.

The pair entered the manor, standing in its foyer. Witnessing the manor's interior decor from the foyer, Chouko faced a mansion with pure white walls lined with pillars, a hallway straight to the front with stairways up to a second floor, and hallways to her left and right.

Charles first took Chouko up the stairs and to the left, the two passing by numerous doors as they wandered.

The sheer amount of rooms must be dizzying. Charles had counted the number of rooms at the orphanage: four. A large bedroom with dozens of beds for everyone, a kitchen and dining room, and the main area for story time, playtime, and so on. Now Chouko was living in a shelter with far greater numbers than that.

Where Chouko once lived amongst fellow orphans of her kind, Chouko now lived with maids and butlers, people to serve her hand and foot. Quite akin to her caretakers, Charles believed, albeit far more gracious and elegant.

Eventually, the pair turned right around the hallway corner. They made it to one room in particular: a massive, expansive room decorated with the finest drawers Charles could provide. Gender neutral in color, as he knew not for certain if his heir would be a boy or a girl. The room had pure white wallpaper and well-polished wood floors. One queen-sized bed with quilted sheets, handwoven pillows, and a fluffy teddy bear atop it.

"This will be your bedroom, Chouko. For now, I must tend to other affairs. I will leave you to explore at your leisure. The men and women in this house are here to help."

"..."

"... is something the matter, Chouko? Is the room currently not to your liking? Staff are also available to decorate it as you see fit."

"It's... u... uhm... c... can... can I- uhm- come with you t-to your room...? I- I'm- I'm, uh, I-"

Ah, yes. Charles needed to keep in mind that Chouko was an orphan. He already knew that the grandeur of the manor must have frightened her... the bedroom was no exception. He was more than happy to bring his daughter to his bedroom if it assisted with making her feel at home.

So, keeping her company, Charles gently walked along. Leading Chouko away as he brought her to his room.

It felt even grander than Chouko's bedroom. His style was more dark and refined, with darker wood in his floors and furniture. His wallpapers were split between an upper half of rich, dark green laced with polka dots, and a lower half design of dark brown wood panels. His bedframe was a rich dark oak to match, king-sized with fine and fluffy white sheets.

One of the many rooms fit for a man of Charles Ashford's tastes.

Once the two entered, the man sat down at his desk, positioned at the right-most windowsill. Charles decided to take on some duties that the head butler left on his desk, for he had a lot of work to handle after the orphanage search.

He hoped Chouko would make herself comfortable for the time being, and didn't mind if she was to jump on the bed or such. After all, many children do enjoy jumping on beds...

However, Charles noticed that Chouko took an interest in something else of his. Rather than jumping on the bed, she immediately gravitated to the grand piano in the corner of the room. Positioned right in front of the left-most window, neatly tidied up with sheet music and other such books.

Chouko's confusion about the instrument was evident to Charles. He saw curiosity in her eyes.

"... uhm... Father... w... what is this?"

"Ah. That is a piano, Chouko. A beautiful instrument that plays music. In my free time, I find it comforting to indulge myself in my musical passions."

"Uhm... uh... c... can I, uhm, try... playing it?"

"... if you so wish. There is a booklet that you may read to... assist with your playing."

When Charles answered, there was a pause of silence. A hint of unease in Charles's voice as his new daughter requested to play the piano.

He helped Chouko onto the piano bench first, then found himself wanting to excuse himself. So, he departed from the room and excused himself, asking the maids to provide some refreshments.

A deep sigh escaped Charles's lips once he was out of the room. This unease he felt was, hopefully, not towards Chouko. Rather, how she may take to the piano.

The fault lay within himself, as he is a very passionate aficionado of classical music. "Indulge myself in my musical passions" was truly an undersell of his passion.

Especially with his tendency to be a strict critic.

His heart was afraid that he would feel upset at Chouko's attempts. Afraid that his demanding expectations will be soiled by a child learning piano for the first time. Afraid that the girl will detest the piano, detest his passion. Before he could even do anything to nurture her talents, she was on the path to giving him a negative association and aversion to her potential.

Charles felt the confidence leave his body at this fear. He stalled for time to delay it. Delay his reaction to Chouko. Taking his time to personally request tea and biscuits from the best maid in his employment, one specializing in brewing a staple in this household: the citrusy Earl Grey. A middle-class classman's tea, yet quite posh for a man of his status to enjoy.

Charles preferred his Earl Grey with lemon and honey, and instructed the maid to provide additional options for Chouko: a bowl of sugar cubes, small cups of milk and honey so that she may experiment with the tea, three extra lemon slices, and additional biscuits. Children do love their sweets, after all.

Eventually, the maid came back with a tray. Two white cups of tea brimmed with a sky blue, matching the imported teapot and the saucers they rest atop. All the ingredients were as instructed, and the tea was hot and ready.

There was no more time. Charles mentally prepared himself for whatever outcome awaited in that room, walking back whilst accompanying the maid. Every few steps, he took a deep breath to calm and ease his nerves, saving the tea as a last resort if the worst were to occur.

If Chouko ended up butchering his piano... Well, Charles braced himself, prepared himself to spare effort in her musical education.

But Charles arrived at the room, staying outside for a brief moment. Not because of her inability, no.

Rather, the opposite. Charles heard something that pleasantly surprised him. Charles held his arm out to gesture for the maid to stop, then he peeked into his room with wonder.

In the time Charles had been gone, Chouko demonstrated her gifted proficiency with reading. Charles had no way of knowing that Chouko already understood how the white and black keys on the piano work. Already, Chouko had obtained an exceptional grasp of the piano in the short amount of time Charles was gone.

Of course, Chouko would have impressed her father slightly if she had played any single children's song proficiently.

But Charles wasn't just impressed. He was astounded.

In the time he was gone, a few short minutes or so, Chouko somehow upgraded herself to playing Debussy's Clair de Lune.

Claire de Lune was one of Charles's most favorable pieces, if not his favorite. One that conveyed beauty and tranquility. A representation of the moonlight, its subtle stillness representative of Symbolist poet Paul Verlaine's work of the same name. It happened to be the sheet music he kept on the music stand, the song he had last played, and Chouko learned it.

Tears trailed down Charles's eyes. Chouko, once again, moved his heart. It was breathtaking. He could not believe that such a girl would be abandoned and left in an orphanage. Her former family has allowed her talents to go utterly unrefined, leaving her a ruby in an encasement of brick and stone.

She was a beginner, yes, and the subtle differences between her smaller hands and his very own are different in quality. Chouko played with only the right amount of starting proficiency. Her playing was truly, perfectly average, albeit with the occasional mistake due to physical limitations.

Yet, he could feel no disappointment for his newest care, feeling nothing but pride. Chouko had the right amount of skill between a beginner and an expert. A mere six-year-old capable of playing such a work was astounding.

The warmth in Charles's heart grew, as he came to accept how much potential Chouko had.

Charles started to walk into the room, stepping slowly and quietly so as not to disturb the girl's work. He wanted to get a closer view, a better seat to watch her candid playing.

This was to no avail, however, as she diverted her attention to him shortly after his attempt. Her fingers stopped upon noticing his quiet approach, looking at him nervously.

Charles saw a glimpse of fear. A glimpse of panic and unease. A glimpse reminiscent of his own emotion in her red eyes. She exhibited nervousness to match and meet his.

"U... Uhm... welcome back. I... uh... I was just..."

"Chouko, your playing..."

"... w... well, I, uhm... I saw the... the paper, and- uhm... tried to—"

"That was beautiful. Your playing was beautiful, Chouko. Please, allow me to join you."

He delayed his work as he took a seat with Chouko. She was the girl with the most potential not only to inherit the Ashford name, but to succeed Charles Ashford as well. He felt compelled to be the one to nurture this abandoned gem.

Sitting to her left, knowing that the left side of Claire de Lune is more complicated than the right, Charles abandoned his work for the time being. For quite some time, the two of them played together, with Charles instructing Chouko every step of the way.

The pages flipped, and the sun had set some time after, their tea lukewarm on a spare table. Not an ounce was consumed, as the two were lost in their melodious duet.

In this very moment, they were themselves, basking in the tranquility of the moonlight. Eventually brought out of it once Chouko became hungry, and dinner was made posthaste. The memory rang clear in Charles's mind for years to come, as this marked the very beginning of their fond memories together.

A proud father, and his precious little girl.