Why am I the Princess?

“Did you hear that in a movie? Do you even know what it means?” he asked cautiously.

“Do you think I don’t know?” I shot back with a smirk.

“Well… Daddy would really like it if his daughter used nicer words…”

“Alright~” I said sweetly, feigning innocence.

With our cart filled with an assortment of meats, sausages, vegetables, and snacks, we finally headed to the checkout counter.

“Oh…? Wait a second…” the cashier said, their gaze lingering on Dad.

Dad, ever prepared, raised a finger to his lips. “Please ring us up quietly,” he said calmly.

“Ah, of course…”

I looked up at the cashier with a blank expression, and they stared back, clearly surprised.

“You’re so pretty! What’s your name?” they asked.

“If you search online, you’ll probably find it,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“…What?”

Ignoring the awkward exchange, I struggled to lift a bag of chips from the cart and handed it to Dad. Without missing a beat, he opened the bag and handed it back to me.

“Be polite to adults,” Dad gently chided.

“Then I’ll start telling everyone your name too,” I retorted, taking a bite of the chips.

“…”

“Pick me up,” I said, stretching my arms out toward him.

Dad scooped me up effortlessly, holding me in his arms like I was the most precious thing in the world. His embrace was so comfortable it felt like riding in first class. Pulling down my mask slightly, I began munching on my snack.

“My name’s Siyoon. If you tell anyone, Daddy might have to hide me,” I said casually to the cashier.

“…I see,” they replied hesitantly.

“Take good care of him. He’s had it rough,” I added with a bright smile.

“Of course!” they said earnestly.

Dad chuckled softly and, with a playful grin, turned to the cashier. “Would you like an autograph?”

“W-what? Really?!”

The cashier’s eyes lit up as they scrambled to grab a notebook. Dad signed it with a flourish, adding the date before handing it back.

“Want mine too?” I asked, tilting my head innocently.

“Seriously?!”

Dad raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. I carefully scrawled:

Kim Jiho’s Daughter, Kim Siyoon ★

The cashier held the notebook like it was a prized treasure, their expression full of joy.

“You can brag about this when I’m famous someday,” I said with a cool wave of my hand.

“I will! Absolutely!”

As we left, the cashier called out, “Goodbye! Come back soon!”

At first, Dad’s expression was unreadable, but soon he burst into laughter.

“Should I cook something yummy when we get home?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied casually.

As we walked toward the car, Dad still refused to set me down.

“You could put me down and carry the bags, you know,” I pointed out.

“Looks like we bought too much… What should I do?” he muttered, holding me even tighter.

I sighed. “Put me down already. I’ll follow along just fine.”

“…”

But instead of listening, Dad just hugged me closer, clearly unwilling to let go.

After standing in place for about 15 minutes, lost in thought, I finally spoke up.

“I need to pee.”

“What?” Dad blinked, startled.

“I need to pee. Put me down, or I’ll do it right here.”

Alarmed, Dad quickly set me down and grabbed the shopping bags. My little white lie successfully cut short his indecision, and we made our way to the elevator. His hands were full, struggling to carry all the groceries.

“Why’d you buy so much? We can always come back later,” I pointed out.

“Kim Siyoon, most of this stuff was what you wanted,” he replied.

“So it’s my fault?”

Dad paused, thinking it over, before letting out a resigned sigh. “No…”

“I’m too young to control myself. You should’ve stopped me,” I said matter-of-factly.

“You’re right…” he admitted, nodding.

A young woman in the elevator, clearly entertained by our banter, giggled as she watched us.

“Oh my, you’re so cute,” she said, looking at me.

“I know,” I replied flatly.

“Really? You’re not only pretty, but smart too?” she teased.

“That too,” I said with a casual shrug.

“What’s something you don’t know, then?” she asked, leaning in playfully.

I was starting to get annoyed by her persistence. “Hmm… my mom’s face?” I replied bluntly.

“Ah… Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry,” she stammered, immediately backing off.

Satisfied, I turned my attention elsewhere. Dad, on the other hand, looked at me, visibly startled.

“What?” I asked.

“N-nothing,” he mumbled, unsure how to respond.

When we got home, Dad put down the bags and helped me wash up.

“I thought you said you needed to pee,” he said.

“Yeah, that was a lie.”

“…”

Later, as I lounged on the couch, Dad came over and sat beside me.

“Hey, Siyoon.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you miss your mom?”

“Not really.”

It was clear that my comment in the elevator had been bothering him. His smile was awkward, and his unease was written all over his face.

I sighed and glanced at him. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“…I’m sorry, Siyoon,” he murmured.

“Don’t be. If it’s hard, you can cry. Don’t hide it,” I said softly.

“You’re so smart… and kind…” Dad’s voice trembled slightly.

He stared at me for a long moment, then seemed to make a decision. Without a word, he went upstairs and came back with a dusty box. He stood silently for a moment, staring at it. His expression grew more complex as time passed, emotions flickering across his face. Finally, he nodded to himself, wiped the box clean with a handkerchief, and placed it in front of me.

“This… this belonged to your mom,” he said quietly.

Curious, I opened the box and began flipping through the photos inside. Dad sat nearby, watching me with reddening eyes.

“Show me. The photos are heavy,” I said.

“…Alright.”

He lifted me onto his lap and began pulling out the photos one by one. They were filled with happy memories: Mom and Dad smiling together, clearly in love. Photos of them as teenagers, growing up side by side, and even one of Mom waiting for Dad during his military service. There were pictures of them celebrating the news of my arrival, their faces glowing with joy.

Mom had been an entertainer too, just like Dad. There were photos of them performing and supporting each other at various events. With each photo, I felt the droplets of Dad’s tears falling onto my head, but I pretended not to notice.

“She’s beautiful,” I said quietly.

“She was, wasn’t she? So… so beautiful…” Dad replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“She’s almost as pretty as me,” I added with a sly grin.

Despite his tears, Dad let out a shaky laugh, his expression a mix of sorrow and amusement. He continued showing me photos until I noticed a small notebook tucked inside the box. Curious, I reached for it.

It appeared to be Mom’s journal.

*If you peek at my diary again, I’ll bite you!

The playful warning scrawled on the first page was so full of her personality. As I read, a large tear splashed onto the page. I looked up to see Dad’s face twisted in anguish.

He gently set me down, clutching his chest as though he could barely breathe. Then, unable to hold back any longer, he began to sob uncontrollably.

The sound of his trembling cries filled the room, raw and heart-wrenching.

I looked at Dad, his face wet with tears, and leaned in closer, offering him a gentle smile.

“Should we take a photo too? So Mom can see it,” I suggested softly.

The young, trembling rookie dad before me wiped his face with shaky hands, trying to compose himself. His tear-streaked face, still glistening with emotion, softened into the brightest smile he could muster. Pulling me into his arms, he hugged me tightly.

“Yeah… let’s do that,” he said, his voice unsteady but filled with warmth.