Episode 3
The topic at the dinner table that evening was the order of knights who had appeared in the village.
This was a rural village far from the capital.
A place where one could live their whole life without ever seeing imperial knights.
Yet, the imperial knights had arrived in this small countryside village.
Clad in pure white armor with helmets adorned in gold, riding elegant and splendid horses—they instantly became the subject of every rumor.
In a village like this, there was hardly anything else to talk about.
At most, the news was about who got married or who had a baby.
“But why were the knights stationed near our village, Mom?”
Ena, the eldest daughter of the aunt, asked as she tore bread and dipped it into soup.
“I don’t know. How would I know?”
“Didn’t the ladies at the general store say anything? With so many knights camping near the village?”
“Everyone was curious, but no one knew why.”
“Imperial knights… how cool…”
Mina, the second daughter, murmured dreamily with half-lidded eyes.
“I’ve never seen a knight up close. Mom hasn’t either, right?”
The Imperial Knights were a group only nobles could enter.
Even the lowest-rank knights were born of noble families.
For commoners like them, they were people they could never even dare look at directly.
“With our status, how could we ever see a knight up close?”
Ena jabbed Mina’s side and rolled her eyes.
“If only I had been born a noble’s daughter… Instead of sitting at a shabby table eating cheap bread, I’d be dining gracefully under a glittering chandelier… dancing at balls with handsome knights…”
Soup dripped from the bread Mina held as she fell deeper into her fantasy.
“We were born in a place like this. There’s no way that’ll ever happen.”
Ena sneered at her sister.
Though they were sisters, Ena resembled their aunt, while Mina resembled their uncle.
The aunt was plump with droopy cheeks—people whispered she resembled a toad, though no one dared say so to her face.
The uncle, compared to her, was thin and tall with a rather pleasant-looking face, but he was weak-willed—aside from his habit of gambling, he lived completely under his wife’s thumb.
“Why aren’t we rich… Why can’t we live in the capital? Mom, can’t we move there too?”
“And do what to make a living, once we get there?”
The aunt snapped, telling her not to speak nonsense.
Seeing an opening, Uncle Miller cautiously added,
“Don’t worry, girls. Once I win big next time—”
“Try stepping into a gambling den one more time! I’ll break your legs myself!”
Before he could finish, the aunt shouted fiercely.
“You still don’t understand that you lost all that money gambling?! If we still had that money, we could be living in the capital proudly right now!”
Her hand trembled around her fork, anger flaring.
It was understandable.
It wasn’t as though she *wanted* to spend her life milking cows in a remote village.
She wanted to move to the capital, give her daughters all they wished for—but her husband Miller had trampled that chance.
Nine years ago, she had one chance to turn her life around.
That chance came from Miller’s deceased younger brother—Adele’s father.
No one knew this secret except Miller and his wife: nine years ago, they went to a distant orphanage and brought Adele back because of the inheritance left behind.
To be exact—her mother’s inheritance.
Adele’s mother died giving birth to her in that orphanage. She had been the daughter of a noble. She eloped beside Adele’s father but he died in an accident on the way, and she died giving birth to Adele alone at the orphanage.
Her grandfather, knowing of the child, named Adele his heir before passing away of old age.
When Miller and his wife learned this, they took Adele from the orphanage, then claimed her inheritance as her legal guardians. With that money the aunt prepared to move to the capital—but Miller lost it all in one night of gambling.
Thus her dream of living richly in the capital was shattered in a day.
“You don’t even deserve to eat!”
The aunt snatched the spoon from Miller’s hand and kicked his chair over.
“Argh!”
As he collapsed to the floor groaning, their daughters burst into laughter.
Hearing their laughter and his wife’s scolding, Miller hung his head low.
—
While chaos unfolded at the table, Adele was busy hauling hay.
After preparing dinner for the family, she had to move hay to the barn, gather the chickens and ducks into the coop, and collect all the laundry into a basket before her day could finally end.
“Hm~ hm~ hm~”
Lately Adele had been in a very good mood.
Before, she would carry hay with a sigh or gloomy expression, but now she felt so happy she hummed without realizing.
Even Mrs. Edinburgh, who ran a cotton farm, and the shepherds who occasionally passed by commented on how bright she looked.
There was a reason for Adele’s good mood.
A secret she had told no one.
“Oh my.”
Carrying a bundle of hay into the barn, she chuckled when a frog hopped across her feet.
Of course, she wasn’t laughing *at* the frog.
“Frog!”
But because a child leapt like a frog trying to catch it.
“Frog! Stop there!”
A young boy with wings on his back hopped around the barn on all fours like a frog.
His name was Sigmund—Adele named him.
He looked around five years old, but in truth he had been born only ten days ago.
Ten days.
No one would believe it, but Sigmund hatched from an egg.
He was born with wings already on his back, and even without teaching, he could repeat Adele’s words.
If she told anyone, she’d surely be called insane.
Adele found Sigmund under an oak tree and hid him in the barn.
If she left him alone in the attic, he would surely stomp around or wander downstairs, where her relatives would see him—so she brought him here.
Her uncle’s family never came to the barn.
They couldn’t stand the smell of cows and hay—so it was the perfect hiding place.
Of course, at night she secretly brought Sigmund upstairs to sleep in her bed.
The barn was too uncomfortable to sleep in, and Sigmund could only fall asleep holding Adele’s hand.
Adele was the first person he saw when he was born, so he treated her like his mother.
He mimicked her words, copied her behavior.
In just ten days, Sigmund became Adele’s treasure.
She had never seen a child so adorable.
And he had hatched from the egg she kept close to her heart.
Naturally, he was precious to her.
Her uncle’s family treated her like dirt, yet this child trusted, followed, and loved her completely.
To this child, she was the whole world—and that alone filled Adele with happiness.
Because of Sigmund, she smiled more brightly and more often than ever before.
“Frog!”
Sigmund finally caught the frog and proudly held it toward Adele with both hands.
“For you, Adele.”
With sparkling violet eyes and red lips puckered, he offered it to her.
Adele couldn’t hide the smile spreading across her face.
“I don’t need a frog. So how about we let it go?”
“Then what do you want, Adele? I’ll give you whatever you want.”
He was now skilled even with difficult sentences.
“Let’s let the frog go and have supper instead, Sigmund.”
Adele pulled out a basket hidden in the hay.
Inside were the morning’s milk, bread she baked for lunch, and blueberries she picked returning from the bean field.
The bread was Adele’s; the milk and blueberries were Sigmund’s.
Sigmund never ate bread.
He never ate anything made of flour, so she fed him milk—until she discovered by accident that he could eat fruit. Since then, whenever she got the chance to go out to the fields, she brought blueberries or cherries for him.
As she watched Sigmund gulp down milk from the bottle, Adele fell into thought.
Ten days—he had already grown about ten centimeters taller and had become astonishingly intelligent.
He never forgot what he learned.
Like a sponge absorbing water, Sigmund remembered every bit of knowledge she taught.
Adele still didn’t know what Sigmund really was, nor why the egg was there.
But she knew one thing:
Sigmund brought sunlight into a life that had been nothing but darkness.
He was a blessing—an unexpected happiness.
“Sigmund, shall we go catch fireflies tonight?”
“Fireflies! Yes!”
His face lit up.
He had endless energy but was cooped up in the barn—it must’ve been suffocating.
So whenever everyone fell asleep, Adele took him outside for a walk.
She wanted him to run freely under the moonlight and stars.
Sometimes, watching the wings on his back flutter, she wondered if one day he would fly away.
Like a migrating bird, perhaps Sigmund would stay by her side only briefly before leaving.
If he left, Adele knew she would be terribly lonely.
Her heart carried two wishes:
One—she hoped he’d return to where he truly belonged, to others like him.
Yet also—she wished he would never leave and live with her forever.
“Fireflies shine. I want to give you something shiny as a present.”
Adele knew the “shiny thing” he meant was a jewel.
Since he couldn’t get jewels, he wanted to bring fireflies instead—that thought alone was beyond adorable.
Adele’s shoulders shook with stifled laughter.
With a warm smile, she replied,
“I’ll look forward to it.”
