The father looked down at the boy with his dry eyes. Else hugged the velvet-stitched rabbit as if she was going to squish it, and buried her lips in the doll’s crown. One of the father’s eyebrows twitched slightly. The servant, who had sensed the lord’s mood, slapped the boy in the face. It was the servant who had bought him from the slave trader for the price of a donkey.
The sound of a thud echoed through the empty castle. The force was so fierce that he was about to fall to the floor, but the boy did not stumble once. His calm and proud eyes were the same. It was a world where masters and servants were separated by a few steps. However, the boy...
Everything was too much and too much for a seed shell. A small trickle of blood flowed from under the boy's earlobe. His eardrum might have burst. The boy turned his head and looked at the servant who had slapped him. The two were about the same height. The servant, surprised by his spirit, took a step back.
The father, who had been staring at them, took a step closer. The servants who had backed away at the boy’s reaction frowned and approached him, kicking his shins without mercy. The girl wearing a barley-colored poncho glared at the servants, shaking, and lowered her head.
The servants' large hands grabbed the boy's head violently. His eyes narrowed to Else's father. Finally, one of the boy's knees touched the floor. It was the time when the father's long hand grabbed the boy's chin. Else, who was holding the doll, came down the stairs, making a noise.
“Me too! I want to see it too!”
She came down panting and screamed at the top of her lungs. The servant who had been holding the boy's messy black hair looked back at her. Else furrowed her eyebrows and ran over to pinch and hit his hand. As the servant withdrew his hand, Else also withdrew her fern-like hand.
Her heart pounded. Else glanced at her father. Her father had an unmoving expression on his face, even though his daughter, whom he had not seen for ten days, had come out of the bedroom and stood beside him. Else had suffered from a fever for ten days, which was a matter of life and death. The cold she had caught before summer was too severe for her. After suffering for ten days like that, for the first time.
Else glanced at her father with fearful eyes and turned her head away. He didn’t tell her to go back to the bedroom, so she could stay there. She turned her head toward the boy who was kneeling as nobly as a knight in his guise.
The turquoise eyes, mixed with the color of Viridian and ash, were round and sharp. The dazzling light and the straight shadows. The eyes, in which the gloomy light was clearly stored, were empty. An unknown sensation came over her as if she had examined and bitten her blue lips. Her pounding heart began to beat in a different rhythm.
“Hey, what is this?”
She groped her face and beginning to turn red.
“These are slaves I just bought from a slave trader.”
The young daughter of the lord answered the displeased servant insincerely. Else glanced at him and soon lowered her head. It wasn't just a day or two that the servants were rude and cold to her. The nanny who raised Else until then also pitied Else, but didn't love her. However, Else was used to everyone not liking her. Being used to it didn't mean she didn't get hurt, though.
“I know that.”
Else, who had thrown the same thing, looked at the boy again. Every time she looked at his round eyes under his long eyelashes, an inexplicable strangeness enveloped her. Was it because of the uncommon color of his eyes? Or was it because of the unpolished curve of his closed lips?
The sound of a thud echoed through the empty castle. The force was so fierce that he was about to fall to the floor, but the boy did not stumble once. His calm and proud eyes were the same. It was a world where masters and servants were separated by a few steps. However, the boy...
Everything was too much and too much for a seed shell. A small trickle of blood flowed from under the boy's earlobe. His eardrum might have burst. The boy turned his head and looked at the servant who had slapped him. The two were about the same height. The servant, surprised by his spirit, took a step back.
The father, who had been staring at them, took a step closer. The servants who had backed away at the boy’s reaction frowned and approached him, kicking his shins without mercy. The girl wearing a barley-colored poncho glared at the servants, shaking, and lowered her head.
The servants' large hands grabbed the boy's head violently. His eyes narrowed to Else's father. Finally, one of the boy's knees touched the floor. It was the time when the father's long hand grabbed the boy's chin. Else, who was holding the doll, came down the stairs, making a noise.
“Me too! I want to see it too!”
She came down panting and screamed at the top of her lungs. The servant who had been holding the boy's messy black hair looked back at her. Else furrowed her eyebrows and ran over to pinch and hit his hand. As the servant withdrew his hand, Else also withdrew her fern-like hand.
Her heart pounded. Else glanced at her father. Her father had an unmoving expression on his face, even though his daughter, whom he had not seen for ten days, had come out of the bedroom and stood beside him. Else had suffered from a fever for ten days, which was a matter of life and death. The cold she had caught before summer was too severe for her. After suffering for ten days like that, for the first time.
Else glanced at her father with fearful eyes and turned her head away. He didn’t tell her to go back to the bedroom, so she could stay there. She turned her head toward the boy who was kneeling as nobly as a knight in his guise.
The turquoise eyes, mixed with the color of Viridian and ash, were round and sharp. The dazzling light and the straight shadows. The eyes, in which the gloomy light was clearly stored, were empty. An unknown sensation came over her as if she had examined and bitten her blue lips. Her pounding heart began to beat in a different rhythm.
“Hey, what is this?”
She groped her face and beginning to turn red.
“These are slaves I just bought from a slave trader.”
The young daughter of the lord answered the displeased servant insincerely. Else glanced at him and soon lowered her head. It wasn't just a day or two that the servants were rude and cold to her. The nanny who raised Else until then also pitied Else, but didn't love her. However, Else was used to everyone not liking her. Being used to it didn't mean she didn't get hurt, though.
“I know that.”
Else, who had thrown the same thing, looked at the boy again. Every time she looked at his round eyes under his long eyelashes, an inexplicable strangeness enveloped her. Was it because of the uncommon color of his eyes? Or was it because of the unpolished curve of his closed lips?
Among the elegantly connected straight lines, only the soft flesh that had lost its original color stood out strangely. Heat gathered in the bridge of her nose and her earlobes warmed. Sweat formed on her hands holding the doll. Else, who was looking at the boy with harmonious and neat features slickly carved, looked at the servant.
“Can I have it?”
“There are two children in the stable.”
“I want to have it.”
“It’s not good enough to be kept by the young lady’s side.”
The servant coldly reprimanded her. Else began to sneer, the corners of her lips twisting. She glanced at her father, who had been looking up at her, and prepared to squirm. She was exhausted from the fever, but if she kept stamping her feet on the floor and groaning, she would somehow be able to do it.
“I said I would take it.”
“Please tell the master.”
The servant muttered to Else, who had her eyebrows and lips furrowed and then stepped aside. Else looked up at her father. It was the first time in ten days that she had seen her father. A man who was as dry as his daughter, even after coming back from the dead, looked down at her.
“Go back.”
It was a voice that felt nothing. Else shook her head. She hugged tightly the doll that her father had given her as a birthday present through a servant a few years ago. After so many years, the threads on the blunt part connecting its shoulder and arm had burst, and the crown of its head where Else always buried her face had also faded.
Still, Else carried the doll around. As if the doll was the only thing. She wondered if her father knew. He probably didn't. So she had to get what she wanted. Else curled up in fear and pursed her lips.
“Else.”
"No!"
Else, who buried her face in the rabbit doll's crown, shut her eyes tightly and screamed. The sound of her neck being torn echoed through the high ceiling. Her mother's maids, who had heard Else's swearing, came over to her. Else started to stamp her feet and scream as she felt their hands sneaking up on her.
“Ahhhh! It’s mine! It’s mine! Else wants it! Give it to Else!”
Else, who had been lying on the floor, began to cry until she started coughing. The maids stamped their feet in front of the lord, not knowing what to do. The nanny came out later and tried to wake Else up, but she was helpless.
In fact, everyone was helpless in front of Else. So, they had no choice but to watch and do as she pleased. If it were their own child, they would have beaten her to correct her, but Else was the daughter of a lord and there was no other way to discipline her. Furthermore, Else was sickly. She was a child who could not be left to cry until she lost her breath.
For that reason, the servants always tried not to go against her will. Whether it was because she was not interested in discipline or because she was sickly and could not be disciplined, they stopped. They could not understand the lord's attitude toward his daughter, but that was not something the servants cared about. They only felt contempt.
It wasn't the first time they had seen such noble children, even though they were servants. From the castles of small lords like Lugdun to the families of high-ranking officials in the central government. There were also some experienced servants in the Viscount castles. Especially among the older maids, most of them had left their hometowns in their youth to work as maids in distant lands and made a fortune before returning home. It wasn't the first time they had seen such stubborn noble children.
The noble children were generally stubborn and, even though they seemed to be well-behaved, were childish. However, there was no case of the lord's daughter throwing a tantrum and screaming at this age. Nine years old is not the age to roll around on the floor trying to get something that her parents do not allow. They could not understand why the lord's daughter did something that even a commoner child would not do, but when they saw the lord's attitude toward her, they could understand it somewhat.
“Take her.”
"Then..."
“Do whatever she wants.”
“But, young lady..”
“I can’t just leave her to cry like that.”
The servant closed his mouth. The lord's gaze toward his daughter was terribly cold. It was so cold that it made one think that even another's child would not be looked at with such eyes. It was an eye that was enduring something unbearable with difficulty. The servant looked down at the lord with a trembling face and looked at the girl who was crying so hard. The sight of her struggling with her indoor dress upturned and pulled up to her knees was hideous. When the lord finally turned his back, the nanny came over and tried to lift Else up.
"Miss."
The nanny, who had calmly called Else, held her in her arms. Once she started crying, it was hard to stop crying, so she stopped crying, but the tears continued. The nanny straightened the dress that had risen to her knees, and then stood up, holding the surprisingly light child in her arms.
“Follow me.”
The nanny softly murmured to the boy. Else, who had been crying sadly with a face that looked as if her parents had died, glanced down at the boy from the nanny’s arms. He was still expressionless. It was a face as if nothing had happened. Else liked that face, but then a tingling pain came over her and she looked away. She had it, but it didn’t feel like she had it. It was hers, but it didn’t feel like hers...
So Else closed her eyes. She thought things would be okay when she opened them. But... It didn’t get any better after that. Nothing got any better. That’s why she should have sent Ian to the stable then. She should have let him live quietly without showing any greed.
So that the good-natured old man in the stable could take him in as a servant. If Else could go back in time, she would think that the day he first arrived at the castle, she would not even leave her bedroom. She would not make eye contact or speak to anyone, and she would quietly walk toward death.
“Can I have it?”
“There are two children in the stable.”
“I want to have it.”
“It’s not good enough to be kept by the young lady’s side.”
The servant coldly reprimanded her. Else began to sneer, the corners of her lips twisting. She glanced at her father, who had been looking up at her, and prepared to squirm. She was exhausted from the fever, but if she kept stamping her feet on the floor and groaning, she would somehow be able to do it.
“I said I would take it.”
“Please tell the master.”
The servant muttered to Else, who had her eyebrows and lips furrowed and then stepped aside. Else looked up at her father. It was the first time in ten days that she had seen her father. A man who was as dry as his daughter, even after coming back from the dead, looked down at her.
“Go back.”
It was a voice that felt nothing. Else shook her head. She hugged tightly the doll that her father had given her as a birthday present through a servant a few years ago. After so many years, the threads on the blunt part connecting its shoulder and arm had burst, and the crown of its head where Else always buried her face had also faded.
Still, Else carried the doll around. As if the doll was the only thing. She wondered if her father knew. He probably didn't. So she had to get what she wanted. Else curled up in fear and pursed her lips.
“Else.”
"No!"
Else, who buried her face in the rabbit doll's crown, shut her eyes tightly and screamed. The sound of her neck being torn echoed through the high ceiling. Her mother's maids, who had heard Else's swearing, came over to her. Else started to stamp her feet and scream as she felt their hands sneaking up on her.
“Ahhhh! It’s mine! It’s mine! Else wants it! Give it to Else!”
Else, who had been lying on the floor, began to cry until she started coughing. The maids stamped their feet in front of the lord, not knowing what to do. The nanny came out later and tried to wake Else up, but she was helpless.
In fact, everyone was helpless in front of Else. So, they had no choice but to watch and do as she pleased. If it were their own child, they would have beaten her to correct her, but Else was the daughter of a lord and there was no other way to discipline her. Furthermore, Else was sickly. She was a child who could not be left to cry until she lost her breath.
For that reason, the servants always tried not to go against her will. Whether it was because she was not interested in discipline or because she was sickly and could not be disciplined, they stopped. They could not understand the lord's attitude toward his daughter, but that was not something the servants cared about. They only felt contempt.
It wasn't the first time they had seen such noble children, even though they were servants. From the castles of small lords like Lugdun to the families of high-ranking officials in the central government. There were also some experienced servants in the Viscount castles. Especially among the older maids, most of them had left their hometowns in their youth to work as maids in distant lands and made a fortune before returning home. It wasn't the first time they had seen such stubborn noble children.
The noble children were generally stubborn and, even though they seemed to be well-behaved, were childish. However, there was no case of the lord's daughter throwing a tantrum and screaming at this age. Nine years old is not the age to roll around on the floor trying to get something that her parents do not allow. They could not understand why the lord's daughter did something that even a commoner child would not do, but when they saw the lord's attitude toward her, they could understand it somewhat.
“Take her.”
"Then..."
“Do whatever she wants.”
“But, young lady..”
“I can’t just leave her to cry like that.”
The servant closed his mouth. The lord's gaze toward his daughter was terribly cold. It was so cold that it made one think that even another's child would not be looked at with such eyes. It was an eye that was enduring something unbearable with difficulty. The servant looked down at the lord with a trembling face and looked at the girl who was crying so hard. The sight of her struggling with her indoor dress upturned and pulled up to her knees was hideous. When the lord finally turned his back, the nanny came over and tried to lift Else up.
"Miss."
The nanny, who had calmly called Else, held her in her arms. Once she started crying, it was hard to stop crying, so she stopped crying, but the tears continued. The nanny straightened the dress that had risen to her knees, and then stood up, holding the surprisingly light child in her arms.
“Follow me.”
The nanny softly murmured to the boy. Else, who had been crying sadly with a face that looked as if her parents had died, glanced down at the boy from the nanny’s arms. He was still expressionless. It was a face as if nothing had happened. Else liked that face, but then a tingling pain came over her and she looked away. She had it, but it didn’t feel like she had it. It was hers, but it didn’t feel like hers...
So Else closed her eyes. She thought things would be okay when she opened them. But... It didn’t get any better after that. Nothing got any better. That’s why she should have sent Ian to the stable then. She should have let him live quietly without showing any greed.
So that the good-natured old man in the stable could take him in as a servant. If Else could go back in time, she would think that the day he first arrived at the castle, she would not even leave her bedroom. She would not make eye contact or speak to anyone, and she would quietly walk toward death.
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