Chapter 5.2

After handing out books as gifts to all the children, Marianne slung her now-empty bag over her shoulder. Placing her hand on the lightweight bag, she glanced out the window. The sunset had already dyed the sky red, painting the world in its hue.  

Leaving the classroom, Marianne walked toward the back of the main building, where there was a wide open space for the children to play. Her pace quickened, eventually turning into a run. As the wind brushed against her face, her eyes darted around, searching for Sylvester.  

Her steps slowed as she spotted him. Under the largest tree among the densely packed ones at the edge of the open area, Marianne found Sylvester.  

“…Sylvester.”  

Marianne smiled as she stood with the sunset at her back.  

“Marianne.”  

A smile spread across Sylvester’s lips. He looked up at her, his gaze dreamy, as if he were in a trance. Marianne’s eyes moved from his face to his disheveled coat lying beside him, his dirtied white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the dusty tips of his shoes.  

It was clear how earnestly Sylvester had played with the children.  

“You don’t have to get up!”  

Marianne stopped Sylvester, who was about to rise, and quickly walked over to stand beside him.  

“…May I sit next to you?”  

“Of course.”  

Sylvester swiftly replied to Marianne’s question. He picked up his coat, which had been carelessly tossed aside, and spread it on the ground. He was preparing a seat for her.  

“Your coat will get dirty… I’m fine sitting on the ground.”  

“It’s already been on the ground, so it’s fine.”  

“…Then I’ll sit, thank you.”  

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Marianne carefully sat down on Sylvester’s very expensive coat.  

The distance between Marianne and Sylvester was no more than a fist’s width. Marianne glanced at their nearly touching shoulders before quickly turning her head forward. Sylvester did the same.  

Their mouths curved into awkward smiles before snapping shut. However, the awkward silence didn’t last long. The breeze carried away the discomfort, replacing it with the serene beauty of the sunset and the cool yet gentle wind.  

Marianne and Sylvester turned to face each other, their gazes meeting. Like Marianne, Sylvester’s expression had softened.  

“Teacher Mirak took the children to the bathhouse. They got quite dirty.”  

Sylvester broke the silence.  

“What on earth were you doing with them? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”  

Marianne asked, noticing Sylvester’s tousled hair.  

“The children were curious about the knight order’s training, so I showed them a bit. After that, I watched the kids who wanted to show off their swordsmanship and those with talent for magic. And then…”  

Suddenly, Sylvester’s face darkened.  

“And then…?”  

“They asked to play ball. …It felt like the game would never end. If the teacher hadn’t taken the children away, I think it really wouldn’t have ended.”  

Sylvester spoke with a serious expression.  

“It was as if I were trapped in a time spell.”  

Marianne barely managed to suppress her laughter. She couldn’t help but picture a large dog whining, ‘They bullied me, and I’m so tired.’  

“Was it tough?”  

Marianne asked with a smile, but Sylvester didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his face stiffened, and his complexion turned pale.  

“No, not at all. Not even a bit. Not even the slightest bit.”  

“Oh…”  

“I mean it.”  

Sylvester hastily added, looking somewhat flustered. It was a sight that would have shocked the mages of the Second Knight Order if they had witnessed it.  

“Did you enjoy playing ball, then?”  

Marianne kindly changed the subject for his sake, feeling a bit guilty for teasing him too much.  

“…I enjoyed it. Though I wasn’t very good at it. Today, I learned for the first time that there’s something I can’t do well.”  

Sylvester cleared his throat, his honesty apparent. This time, Marianne couldn’t hold back her laughter.  

“How did it feel?”  

Marianne asked, recalling Sylvester’s perfectionist tendencies.  

“…Not bad.”  

“…”  

“I’m sure I’ll be better next time.”  

Sylvester smiled confidently.  

‘Even if Sylvester forgets the time we spent together, please let him remember this feeling.’  

As she watched Sylvester smile, Marianne silently prayed to a god she didn’t believe in, pouring her small but sincere wish into it.  

“I’m curious about how you spent your day, Marianne.”  

Today…  

Marianne hesitated to answer Sylvester’s question. 

I spent the day thinking about you over and over, to the point that I completely lost track of time. 

She almost blurted out her thoughts but managed to hold herself back.  

“I read books with the children.”  

“What kind of books?”  

“Oh, just a moment.”  

Marianne opened her bag and pulled out a book. It was the last remaining copy from the ones she had handed out to the children—her own book.  

“This one.”  

She smiled as she showed Sylvester the cover. It was a poetry collection by a bard she liked, though not a particularly famous one.  

“‘The Day Love Begins.’”  

Sylvester read the title aloud.  

“It contains all kinds of love stories from around the world. Isn’t that wonderful?”  

Marianne mimicked the tone of a publishing agent who frequently visited the library.  

“There’s a poem I read to the children today. Would you like to hear it?”  

“Is it your favorite poem?”  

“Um, no, that’s not it.”  

“Then, while what you mentioned earlier sounds good… I’d like to hear the story you love the most first.”  

Sylvester, who had completely turned his body toward Marianne, spoke. His grayish-blue eyes sparkled beautifully with anticipation.  

Marianne hesitated for a moment and looked up at the sky. Soon, her gaze returned to the poetry book. Her hands split the book open, flipping through the pages. After a moment of searching, her hands stopped.  

“…Under moonlight brighter than the sun, I began to sing my love to you.”  

The opening line of the love poem slipped from Marianne’s lips. Her soft voice continued. Compared to the grand epics of love found elsewhere in the bard’s collection, this was a relatively short and simple story. But it was the most delicate and tender, and Marianne’s voice brought it to life.  

Marianne, immersed in the story, let her voice ebb and flow like waves, following the emotions of the narrator—excitement, shyness, courage, happiness, and joy. Sylvester silently watched her. His expression mirrored the emotions in Marianne’s voice.  

Between the crimson hues of the sunset, shades of soft and deep blue began to blend.  

“…That’s the end.”  

Marianne closed the book with a shy expression, having completed her short recital for Sylvester alone. The two of them met each other’s eyes and smiled without saying who started first.  

“Marianne. I…”  

Sylvester began to speak, but his voice abruptly stopped. A familiar male voice echoed across the field.  

“It’s time to eat! I’m heading off, so if you’re coming, hurry up!”  

Allen, Sylvester’s aide, waved at them from afar.  

“…Since I started volunteering here with Librarian Anna, I’ve never skipped a meal.” 

Marianne glanced at Sylvester and added, 

“The food here is really delicious.”  

It was easy to forget sometimes, but Sylvester was someone from far above. Someone who didn’t casually converse or share meals with ordinary people like her.  

“Um…”  

Should I just ask him to join me for a meal? Or thank him and suggest he go ahead if he felt uncomfortable? 

As Marianne hesitated over what to say, a straight, elegant hand reached out in front of her.  

Sylvester, now standing, looked down at Marianne.  

“Let’s go before Allen eats our share too.”  

With a playful expression, Sylvester addressed Marianne. She looked at the hand extended toward her. It was beautiful yet strong, a sturdy hand. After a brief hesitation, Marianne took Sylvester’s hand and stood up. The sensation of his touch made her ears flush red.  

Their eyes met. Neither could let go of the other’s hand, their lips parting slightly as if to speak.  

“I…”  

Marianne tried to pull her hand back slightly, but Sylvester held onto it again. She awkwardly opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it.  

Realizing what he had done, Sylvester looked at Marianne with a startled expression, as if he had committed a grave sin. He hastily tried to pull his hand away as if he had been burned.  

“Wait, wait a moment.”  

But Marianne held onto his hand. The words and actions came out of her without her realizing it. This time, it was Marianne’s face that turned pale.  

Silence fell between them. Yet, in that silence, neither let go of the other’s hand. Marianne thought she would regret it if Sylvester’s warmth left her. She felt as though Sylvester might be thinking the same. Even without words, she could tell.  

“Marianne.”  

Marianne looked up at Sylvester’s face.  

“Would you grant me the honor… of holding your hand?”  

Sylvester’s trembling voice reached her through their already intertwined hands. However, Marianne couldn’t tell if the trembling was hers, his, or both of theirs.  

“…Yes.”  

Instead of simply nodding, Marianne gave a small but clear response. She wanted to be a little more honest in the face of emotions that would disappear after five nights.  

As soon as Marianne spoke, Sylvester’s hand and hers intertwined more softly and closely. She could feel her ears heating up.  

Without anyone saying a word, the two began walking toward the light emanating from the orphanage’s main building. Their steps were slow, matched to Marianne’s pace.  

“…It was a beautiful poem and song.”  

“…”  

“And it was a moment I’ll remember for a long time. I won’t forget your voice when you spoke of love, Marianne.”  

Sylvester’s grip on her hand tightened. The gentle pressure and warmth wrapped around Marianne’s hand once more. It felt like an embrace. Responding to that small embrace, Marianne held his hand firmly.  

Marianne’s gaze turned to the sky. A faintly colored moon hung shyly in the still-pale night sky. A nearly full, round moon had risen. In her hometown, people said that the moon smiled when it was full. They believed the full moon appeared during the moon’s happiest time.  

Like her hometown’s people, Marianne also felt happy when she saw a full moon. Watching the joy of someone she loved was a delightful thing.  

But now… she was afraid to see the moon’s smile.  

‘I hope Sylvester holds my hand again.’  

Looking at the moon, which was beginning to shine its brightest, Marianne thought.  

‘I hope Sylvester stays by my side.’  

And she thought again.  

‘…I hope the magic on Sylvester never breaks.’  

Marianne’s wish scattered beneath the smiling moon.