Chapter 1 – The Fallen Angel

Under the orange tree, a girl sat perched on a green-painted iron chair, looking bored. Likewise, a homework notebook, scribbled on and left unfinished, lay open on the slightly chipped green-painted iron table. Loose sheets, left defenseless, fluttered in the wind, but failed to catch the attention of the ten-year-old girl.

‘Just go far away. Ride the wind and go somewhere Enzo can’t find you.’

Sasha commanded the homework Enzo had given her, idly wiggling her toes. It was a beautiful day—too beautiful to be stuck at home like this. Unable to endure the boredom, her barely balanced body slid down.

Outside the fence draped with lush dark green vines, people on tiptoe would peek inside as if checking in, then move on. The fact that Sasha, who had gone to the Hawthorn Mansion as a companion, almost died in an accident was an open rumor in the village.

Ever since the day she returned home on Enzo’s back, Sasha had not been allowed to go anywhere outside the house. Goodness. House arrest? Sasha absentmindedly kicked her feet. Sunlight, ripening as much as the orange fruit, stretched vigorously as if mocking those trapped indoors. Disappointed, her kick sent a tin watering can rolling with a clang.

< Sasha Vinoche! You little troublemaker! >

The nagging that should have flown in by now didn’t come. Picking up the watering can that had landed under the swing, Sasha quickly climbed up the orange tree. The lace-trimmed curtains fluttered between the open second-floor windows, greeting Sasha.

The grandmothers were enjoying a sweet afternoon nap. Grandma Rollo sat as always in her purple armchair; Grandma Elodie leaned against the headboard. Both were in a very deep sleep.

While her watchers slept, Sasha quietly slipped out through the lemon-colored front door. The door closed with a squeak, but nobody noticed. Sasha, delighted, ran off quickly—into the woods where no one could find her.

In summer, the woods of Manolie were dyed deep colors. Sasha loved adventures in the lush green forest. Manolie’s woods were always consistent, yet never exactly the same. The forest held every color: chocolate-like brown tree bark, the fragrant red of raspberries, the pale pink of young roses….

Sasha liked collecting all those colors. Good. By now, white butterflies must be visiting the purple hyacinth colony. Excited by the thought of watching butterflies, her steps felt light.

Manolie.

Manolie was a small rural village in the south of the Brissen Kingdom. The people of Manolie called their village the Forest of Brissen. Just as the capital, Laurent, surrounded by rivers and streams, was called the Island of Brissen, so Manolie, surrounded by trees, was nothing less than Brissen’s forest.

In truth, except for the villagers themselves, nobody else called it the Forest of Brissen. Most Brissen citizens probably didn’t even know Manolie village existed in the southern corner. But who cared about such things? Whatever others said, the people of Manolie were proud.

Sasha entered deep into the proud Manolie forest. But at the stream where hyacinth and daffodil bulbs were planted, instead of butterflies with white wings, a boy in uniform was sleeping soundly. It was a face she’d never seen in the village.

“Guess he’s not from Manolie.”

Sasha whispered to herself. He looked like someone who shouldn’t be here—perhaps because of the unfamiliar clothes. On the shoulders of his black jacket were red epaulets. His blue collar was embroidered with gold thread, and gold buttons hung from the sleeves. It was the uniform worn by cadets of the Sarsaye Military Academy, but Sasha didn’t recognize it.

He didn’t fit the forest. He looked like an angel who’d fallen from the sky by mistake. Sasha recalled a painting she’d seen at the art museum, holding Mr. Vinoche’s hand. The boy sleeping with his head by the flowing stream resembled the angel in that painting.

As she moved her fingers, the golden chocolate wrapper she’d forgotten on the way rustled in her pocket. At that sound, the boy woke up.

“What?”

He got up irritably, wrinkles forming between his lazily opened eyes. Sasha swallowed and greeted him.

“Hello. I’m Sasha Vinoche.”

To show goodwill, Sasha took a peach from the basket hanging on her arm and offered it. Enzo had given it to her. Both the chocolate and the peach had been given with the condition of finishing her homework first.

The boy didn’t even glance at the peach. Treated as an intruder who’d disturbed his nap and invaded his territory, Sasha felt wronged. The stream in Manolie’s forest was a place Sasha visited every day—at least until she went to the Hawthorn Mansion this summer. Yet this boy, who had claimed the stream while she was away, was now acting as if he owned it.

The boy sighed irritably.

“Are you going to stay here?”

When Sasha nodded, he picked up his hat and stood. It was a pretty blue hat, matching his jacket collar. He’d obviously used it as a pillow. Sasha followed behind him as he walked briskly.

“Why are you following me?”

The boy, pretending not to notice, finally turned around with an incredulous look.

“Can’t I follow you?”

Sasha asked, confused. Surely she could go anywhere she wanted in the forest.

“No.”

“Why?”

Lost for words, the boy ruffled his short hair and sat back down, a little away from the stream. He snatched the peach from Sasha’s hand as if taking it by force. Sasha, happy her gift was accepted, sat down half a step away from him.

“Do you live here?”

“In Manolie?”

The boy nodded in affirmation. Sasha nodded enthusiastically. Then silence again. The boy raised his chin, staring blankly at the sky where woolly clouds drifted by. His expression was much like Sasha’s when facing Enzo’s homework notebook. What would be written in the homework notebook of someone like him? Sasha wondered belatedly.

Sasha offered to wash the peach in the stream for him, but he refused. The boy wiped the peach roughly on the hem of his black uniform and bit into it, skin and all. Sasha took another fruit from her basket and nibbled along with him.

The boy finished the peach in an instant and wiped his lips with his thumb.

‘Are all people who wear uniforms like this?’

His posture was upright and elegant, unlike anything Sasha had seen before. He ate so neatly that nobody could tell what he’d eaten. Meanwhile, Sasha clumsily let juice run down her arm, making everything sticky. Embarrassed, she secretly wiped it on her sleeve.

After sharing the fruit, the basket was empty. Sasha struggled to split the last peach in half. The boy, unable to watch, took it and split it in one go. When she got it back, the soft flesh was half crushed.

The boy grimaced faintly and wiped his juice-covered hand with his lips. The sweet scent of summer fruit was strong enough to attract bees.

“It smells like peaches.”

Sasha spoke as she bit into the half peach he’d shared.

“You smell like oranges.”

The boy replied indifferently. Did she? Sasha sniffed her sleeve. The peach scent from him was so strong, she couldn’t smell any orange at all.

“That’s enough.”

Muttering, the boy threw the peach pit far away. He seemed to find such meaningless conversation dull. The peach pit flew farther than Sasha could ever throw. It disappeared from sight with a soft sound, maybe hitting a tree along the way.

“How did you come here? You’re not from Manolie, right?”

Only silence returned. Sasha’s voice echoed faintly. It was a clear sign of being ignored. After thinking it over, Sasha spoke again.

“Are you lost? Should I show you the way to the village?”

Despite the awkward refusal, Sasha’s voice was clear and transparent like glass, pure like water. The small, bold girl resembled the forest they sat in. The Forest of Brissen—wasn’t it cheeky for a village tucked away in some rural corner to give itself such a name?

“Quiet…”

The boy placed his blue hat over his face and closed his eyes. The long tree shadows blocked the blazing sun. Instead of bees drawn by the sweet scent, the girl’s persistent voice buzzed in his ears. Ignoring the bothersome little intruder, he drifted back to sleep.