With a slightly tense expression, he held onto me tightly.

Mamalu laughed even louder and sat down in front of the spinning wheel.

“Don’t tell me you believe Mamalu’s words?”

“But… I’ve read about it in a book before. A princess pricked her finger on a spinning wheel needle and slept for 100 years.”

Could he be talking about Sleeping Beauty?

That’s just a fairy tale, isn’t it?

Seeing Rory’s serious eyes, genuinely believing Mamalu’s words, I held back the laughter threatening to burst out.

He was so adorable that I wanted to pinch his cheeks.

“If I fall asleep, you can wake me up.”

“I’d like to, but it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a prince. I’ve never heard of a slave waking up a princess.”

Rory’s eyebrows drooped downward.

My heart sank in an instant.

For some reason, I couldn’t laugh anymore.

Rory wasn’t a slave; he was a noble young master. Once I found the right moment to tell him, his mood would improve, and there wouldn’t be any issue.

But why?

“I’m not a princess, Rory. And…”

Why?

“A prince doesn’t have to be the one to save a princess.”

It’s just a fairy tale.

But for some reason, I wanted to deny that notion.

My heart felt strangely restless.

“Even if you’re a slave, it’s okay. Even if you’re a shoeshine boy, a match-selling girl, a wandering poet, or a gatekeeper, it doesn’t matter.”

“Exactly. The point is true love.”

Before I knew it, Mamalu had stopped laughing and joined in on my words.

“Love knows no rank. Anyone can love, and it’s an inevitable emotion that sneaks in when you least expect it.”

Rory blinked.

Though he didn’t seem to understand half of what Mamalu said, his eyes sparkled as if he grasped the underlying meaning.

Seeing his petal-like eyes brighten with joy, replacing the shadows, made even the onlookers feel happy.

I held his hand and pulled him closer, making him lean slightly toward me.

“And don’t worry. I won’t touch the spinning wheel. I hate the sight of blood.”

“Promise me.”

“Yes, I promise.”

Our short, chubby pinky fingers intertwined.

After making a firm promise, Rory finally seemed a bit relieved and smiled.

“Rory, you be careful too. It hurts if you get pricked by a needle.”

“If I prick my finger and fall asleep, will you wake me up, Miss?”

Rory lightly held my hand and asked, lowering his head.

It seemed he was genuinely scared of falling into eternal sleep.

When will this kid ever grow up?

I once again felt how much time remained before the original story began.

“Of course, of course. I’ll wake you up. Don’t worry.”

I smiled kindly and patted his back.

“I could wake you up too, Rory.”

Sprout, having freed himself from Mamalu’s arms, approached us.

For some reason, Rory grimaced and hugged me tightly.

‘Not. Needed.’

I didn’t catch him mouthing those words.

I only found out later when Sprout told me, but I stubbornly denied it, claiming our sweet Rory would never do such a thing.

We watched Mamalu spin thread for a while before stepping outside again.

At the time, I didn’t know.

That one day, when I turned eighteen, I would personally confirm that Mamalu’s words weren’t a lie.

***

“Pathetic fool.”
Count Hauser clicked his tongue as he looked at Sugar, who had returned in a miserable state.

However, in Sugar’s eyes, his father’s appearance wasn’t much better.

His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and the room reeked of a thick cigar scent.

“……”

Sugar silently picked up a piece of stationery from the Count’s desk.

It was shorter than the letter she had sent to Violet, more like a note than a proper letter.

[If you break the agreement, I’ll run away. That wasn’t an empty threat.]

He had expected disappointment or anger, maybe even outrage at how such a thing could happen.

But the single line was so astonishingly calm that it made Sugar even more afraid.

“What agreement? What does this mean?”

At his question, the Count pulled out the cigar he had been holding and glared sharply.

“It’s all your fault! If only you hadn’t lied!”

“What agreement? What running away? What is all this about?”

“You don’t need to know!”

“Father!”

“Be quiet! I can’t stand to look at you—get out!”

Bang!

Kicked out to his room, Sugar put on a spare pair of glasses and immediately started packing.

At first, he had thought of telling his father that Merchen was in the capital and going to find her together. But seeing his father act so emotionally, unable to prioritize what was important, made him lose hope.

If he told him, his father would surely say, “You stay home and reflect on your mistakes!” Then he’d lock Sugar up under supervision and sneak off to the capital alone.

Judging by how irrational his father was, unable to even think of tracing the letter’s origin, he’d probably cause a commotion in the capital. That would tip Merchen off, and she might flee to another region.

“Quietly prepare the carriage.”

Sugar called for a servant and quickly fastened his bag.

“B-but, Young Master, you’re still not looking well…”

“What kind of older brother would look fine when his younger sister has disappeared? Prepare the carriage. Quickly.”

The servant left, and Sugar changed into travel-appropriate clothing.

He strapped a sword to his waist and threw on a cloak just as the door burst open.

“Brother! Why are you only coming now?”

Cream came running in, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Don’t cling to me. Stay back.”

He might catch a cold.

Sugar subtly moved aside, leaning against the wall.

“Sniff…! Even Seasoning searched all the trains, carriages, and inns, but they couldn’t find Merchen. What if something terrible happened to her? Brother, what are we going to do?”

Seeing Cream crying his heart out reminded Sugar of what Lady Violet Crumble had said.

“You’re not crying?”

Sugar blinked as he looked down at his bag. Despite his growing anxiety, his tear ducts felt broken, leaving his eyes dry.

“What do you mean, what are we going to do? We have to find her before anything happens.”

“What’s with your expression? Don’t you care, Brother?”

I care so much.

What’s wrong with my face?

Sugar turned to look at himself in the mirror.

Despite his usually round and gentle features, his face was stiff like an emotionless stone, completely devoid of expression.

He had thought it would be contorted with worry.

Sugar awkwardly touched his face.

“Young Master! The carriage is ready…”

The servant standing outside the door lowered his voice upon seeing Cream.

Sugar pulled his hat down and grabbed his bag.

“Brother? Where are you going?”

“To find our youngest.”

“What? I’m coming too!”

Cream jumped up, but Sugar firmly pressed down on his head and shook his own.

“Stay here.”

“But—”

“I’ll find her, no matter what.”