Chapter 04…
“They say the emperor of Miltan, on the Western Continent, has changed.”
Nabel paused.
Lyn, busy watching Rone, and Rone, busy lifting her teacup, did not notice it.
“Wasn’t it only recently that the Miltan house rose to power, after driving out the Iber house?”
That was already a well-known story. Lyn nodded.
“Yes. But that emperor was killed in a rebellion, and now his younger brother has ascended the throne.”
“So another rebellion happened…”
Rone also nodded. It wasn’t exactly a cheerful subject for her young mistress, but the news that reached Lyn inside the mansion was limited anyway.
And since Lyn served Rone, the other maids never looked kindly upon her.
“Yes. They say divisions keep breaking out within Miltan.”
As she tidied the tea leaves, Lyn leaned toward Rone’s dress.
The way she neatly trimmed away the blackened, burnt portion of the fabric showed skill born of long habit.
Rone entrusted her skirt to Lyn with an apologetic face.
Nabel watched them in silence, lost in thought.
“Still, since there’s no one to drive the Miltan house out, the master of the Western Continent will probably continue to be decided among the Miltan family themselves.”
Lyn’s hands moved swiftly. After that, she kept up a steady stream of trivial chatter: about the legendary forest at the edge of the continent, or the great rolling seas said to be far to the west.
Neither Lyn nor Rone, both being from inland regions, had ever seen such places.
“There, all dry now.”
By the time the stories ended, Rone’s clothes had dried as well.
“You mustn’t follow.”
Nabel still wore a subdued expression. Of course, he had no intention of following Rone into her changing room.
He took a step back, clearly signaling he would not enter.
As Lyn escorted Rone into the small room used as a dressing space, she tilted her head.
She had spent her whole life as a maid serving nobles, as had her mother before her. She was used to the manners and bearing of children of noble families.
“…?”
From her eyes, Nabel’s etiquette and natural, ingrained movements were nothing like those of a slave.
If anything, they belonged to someone of noble birth.
That night was unusually bright. Nabel stood by the moonlit window, gazing quietly up at the drifting clouds.
“Do you want to go outside?”
Rone suddenly asked. Nabel shook his head, then hesitated.
“…Ah, if you wish to go, my lady.”
Rone realized her wording could be misunderstood.
“Not me. You. You kept looking outside, so I wondered if you wanted a walk.”
“Ah…”
Nabel’s heart had been pounding violently, as if from tension. At her words, it quickly calmed.
“…Shall we go out, then?”
It was night anyway, and most of the count’s servants would be asleep.
“Good. I, too, wanted some fresh air.”
Rone replied.
Hearing this, Lyn hurried to prepare. She lit a small lamp and draped a cardigan over Rone’s shoulders.
“The air outside is still chilly.”
It was the season just turning from spring to summer. Rone nodded.
They gave Nabel a coat too. Though old, it was prepared for a boy—something that had appeared in Rone’s room only after Nabel began staying there. A small change.
Click.
As Lyn opened the door—
Rustle.
Something snagged against it. Lyn flinched. Rone’s eyes went wide.
At that moment, Nabel saw Rone’s shadow darken once again.
Just as her pointed ears began to emerge, the shadow sank back down as if it had never happened.
Nabel’s eyes turned to Rone. She seemed utterly unaware of what her shadow might conceal.
“This is…”
The lamplight illuminated the floor beyond the door. All three of their faces hardened.
“Thorn-vines…”
Laid across the floor of the corridor, in front of Rone’s room, was a mass of thorned vines.
The divine relic of Touna—the Thorn-vines.
Rone was so shocked she forgot how to speak.
The meaning was clear:
The cursed one must not leave this room.
“Ah…”
As Rone stood frozen, Nabel stepped forward.
He seized the vines with his bare hands and began dragging them away. Clearing the whole corridor would take time.
A sting of pain.
The vines were too strong and thick for him to handle easily, and their thorns were sharp and large. But Nabel paid it no mind, steadily pulling them aside.
“Nabel, don’t touch them!”
Rone grabbed his hand. It was already covered in blood. In that instant, her eyes met his—and when their hands touched, her thoughts pressed deeper into him than ever before.
“You don’t have to go out. It’s fine.”
“You can give up.”
That was how she had survived in the mansion—by giving up her desires.
Nabel’s grip on the vines tightened.
He did not want Rone to keep giving things up.
Resolve flashed in his eyes.
Months passed since Nabel had cleared the thorn-vines from Rone’s door.
Even as the cuts on his hands scarred and new flesh grew, the mansion’s people still treated Rone as less than human.
The longer the temple delayed their answer, the more the others acted as though they wished Rone would hang herself.
During that time, small changes came to her room.
Nabel, with bandages around his wrists, had grown tall.
Even in such poor conditions, his height shot up. Sometimes, when Rone awoke, he would be gone—where he trained, she did not know.
Though she had offered to share her only bed, Lyn opposed it, so Nabel slept on a mat on the floor.
This way, when she woke, she could see him—though lately he often disappeared before dawn.
“Nabel?”
At first, Rone panicked when he vanished. She had once told him he could leave whenever he wished, but when he actually disappeared, her heart dropped.
She knew she could not keep him here forever.
This mansion was a place of misfortune. She had no way to protect him.
Compared to being dragged in a shabby carriage, the mansion was better, but now that he had left the carriage, it was only misery.
He was free now. He could go whenever he wanted.
Yet when she woke and found him missing, she rose in alarm.
Had he not climbed back in through the window at that very moment, she might have gone running out to find him.
“…Sister?”
“Nabel.”
Relief bloomed in her chest when she saw him.
She had to admit it—over the months, Nabel had become her friend and companion.
Along with Lyn, he was one of the very few precious people who supported her in this hostile mansion.
“…You’ve grown a lot.”
Thinking back on the past, Rone suddenly realized how tall he had become.
The boy she had always looked down upon now stood noticeably taller. In just a few months, he had grown by a handspan.
Though five years younger, he was already almost at her eye level.
Rone was on the small side, but still—his growth was startlingly fast.
“…Do you regret it?”
Nabel asked hesitantly. Rone tilted her head.
“Hmm?”
Do I regret you growing up? Rone chuckled softly.
“Not regret exactly…”
It just felt strange that the child she always looked down at was now nearly taller.
“Feels like one day you’ll outgrow me completely.”
It could sound childish, but Nabel did not laugh.
“If that makes you sad, I’ll try my best.”
Of course, height was not something he could control. Rone laughed quietly.
“It’s just odd, that’s all. You’ll grow taller than me someday, Nabel.”
He looked at her, and in a low voice said:
“Even so, you’ll forever be my lady.”
The way he said it carried more weight than just sister.
Forever…
The word lodged itself in Rone’s heart.
As if he were vowing never to leave this place.
She knew it was selfish, but she thought:
I don’t mind.
Even though this cursed mansion was no good for him.
Even though she knew that, once the temple took her away, Nabel’s fate would be clear.
“…”
Yet she could not let him go.
Having one more person to talk to in this desolate house had been a kind of salvation.
Rone looked at him.
“…I know this place isn’t happy for you.”
It was hard to say. Nabel just looked up silently, still slightly shorter than her.
“You know how people treat anyone who follows the cursed one. If I’m taken to the temple, then leave.”
Those months had been sweet.
But she could not hold onto them forever. Better to give up early—before she grew too used to happiness.
So she forced her voice to be firm. Nabel had never disobeyed her words before.
“….”
But that night, he remained silent.
As if he would not obey.
As if he did not want to.
Paradoxically, Rone found she liked that.
From that night on, Nabel’s outings grew more frequent.
Rone wondered how he scaled the window so skillfully.
She thought perhaps he was just naturally light-footed—until she saw the thick bandages on his wrists and realized it was from endless practice.
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“….”
At her words, his deep, sea-dark eyes grew even heavier. Meeting her gaze, he bowed his head slightly.
His eyes fell on her wrist, where a scar lingered—made not long ago by a maid’s deliberate “accident.”
“Just a little longer,” he murmured.
“I want to make things safe for you.”
Months passed again.
Nabel lived quietly, never clashing with the others. Yet to Rone, he did not seem submissive.
His gaze never yielded. It was the gaze of a young beast, lowering itself only to bide its time.
“I’ll never do anything that harms you.”
He had said this calmly the day a knight kicked him with an iron boot.
That day, Rone once more felt it—
The fury of a wounded young beast.
And she realized: someday, he would leave her.
Many had left Rone before. Even those kind at first turned their backs once they learned who she was.
So she could tell. She could see it when people were on the verge of leaving.
Nabel would leave too. Maybe not because of her, but he would leave this mansion.
It was too small and miserable to cage him.
Rone accepted this with both sorrow and gladness.
She wished him a happier place. That would be the last gift she could give him before the temple took her away.
Not long after, the knight who had kicked Nabel survived.
But on the same day, the maid who had scratched Rone’s hand—
Died.
They called it an accident.
A pure coincidence.
