“Rote, is it true you told our guest how he could help with the work?”

Standing before her child, Selaia wore a deliberately stern expression. It hardly carried any real intimidation, but for her, it was the best she could muster.

“Mm… yes. I did.”

Rote rolled her eyes and nodded. Selaia’s stern look, laughable to anyone else, always worked on her daughter.

“I’m sorry, Sir Laska. It was Rote’s mistake. I’ll make sure she understands what she did wrong and apologizes to you properly.”

Selaia inclined her head lightly toward him.

“Ah, no, please—there’s no need for that. I was the one who asked to help, my lady.”

Flustered, Laska spoke in Rote’s defense, but Selaia’s gaze remained firm as she looked at her daughter.

There was plenty of work to be done in the castle, but not enough people to do it all. They would sometimes hire day laborers, but smaller tasks were often left undone until there was time to complete them.

This man, however, was no hired worker. She had decided to take him into her household. That made him a guest.

“Rote, Sir Laska isn’t here as a paid hand. You can’t set him to work without offering proper wages.”

Selaia reprimanded the child. Yet instead of looking chastened, Rote’s green eyes widened—as though she had just stumbled upon a brilliant idea.

“…Then why don’t we hire him?”

“What?”

Selaia stared in astonishment. But Rote’s pale green eyes were shining, calm and intent.

Selaia recognized that look well. It was the look her daughter wore when she had resolved to be stubborn.

“Last week, Maximilian was supposed to retire. But he hasn’t, has he? Isn’t that because there’s no one to guard Cheringen?”

“That…”

Selaia, poor at lying, could not bring herself to deny it outright. Rote lifted her gaze to Laska.

“It would be nice if Laska became the next captain of the guard.”

“Well, that’s…”

Laska shifted his eyes with an awkward look.

“Esperote.”

At last, Selaia used her daughter’s full name instead of the usual pet name. At her stern gaze, Rote flinched and shrank back.

“Apologize to our guest for putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

“…I’m sorry, Laska.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady. I was grateful for the suggestion.”

Because it meant you thought well of me. Laska gently soothed the girl.

“Then, my lady, I’ll bring these curtains to Miss Vera.”

He was quick to read the room. Carrying the curtains, Laska left, and once he was out of sight, Selaia spoke.

“Rote, Sir Laska is our guest, and he feels he owes us his life. Burdening someone like that with awkward requests isn’t right.”

“…But Laska is a good person. He plays with me, and he tells me lots of funny stories.”

She wasn’t wrong. His shameless, forthright manner could leave people flustered at times, but Laska seemed far removed from anything resembling wickedness.

“I know that too, Rote. That’s why I’m grateful to him. But it’s because he is such a person that I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Selaia’s tone softened again, yet the gloomy expression on her daughter’s face did not fade. Rote’s small hands clenched and twisted her hem, trembling slightly.

“And also…”

Her lips parted as if hesitating over whether to say it, then her thoughts spilled out all at once.

“M-mother, he suits you.”

“…What?”

Staring in disbelief, wanting to confirm she’d heard correctly, Selaia’s baffled question made Rote rush to add more.

“Laska is kind to you. And he’s handsome, tall, and clever, so he must know a lot about books too. If you spent a little more time together, you might quickly come to like each other…”

“And that’s why you want me to hire him?”

Selaia’s voice carried both exasperation and faint amusement. He was kind not only to her, but to everyone. Though she tried to keep her stern expression, she couldn’t help finding her daughter’s fanciful notions a little endearing.

“I just… think Laska could be someone important for you, Mother.”

Rote faltered at the end, lowering her gaze with a troubled look. Seeing her child forced to grow up too quickly, what little frustration lingered in Selaia’s heart melted away completely.

‘I understand why she worries for me.’

But she could not allow her daughter to carry that burden. Rote was the one she must protect—not the other way around.

Selaia let the strength slip from her voice.

“Rote, all I need is you.”

Even at her mother’s words, the child fidgeted, a trace of reluctance still on her face.

“But… the chances of you two liking each other are…”

“Well. About the same as catching one of the great bears on Mount Mether.”

Selaia tapped her daughter lightly on the bridge of her nose so it wouldn’t sting.

Mount Mether was part of a rugged, towering mountain range, and the great beasts that inhabited it rarely ventured down into the lowlands. Maximilian had only ever brought back pheasants, doves, and the occasional deer from the area around its base. Nobody dared climb any higher for fear of provoking the larger creatures and driving them down towards the villages.

“So stop worrying about such things, and go inside now. Wash your hands and have your snack. I’ll be along shortly.”

Selaia gently urged her daughter forward. After a moment’s hesitation, Rote began to walk slowly away.

A dry wind whistled through. Rote hunched her shoulders at the mingled scents of earth, dust, and—faintly—blood lingering at the tip of her nose.

“But if not Laska… then there’s no other way…”

Her muttered words were swallowed by the crunch of her small feet across the brittle ground.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

It was spring. Selaia came to her senses in a place utterly unfamiliar.

‘A dream? Where am I?’

She looked around, and glimpsed an architectural style she vaguely recognized.

Then she remembered. This was the imperial palace.

‘Why am I suddenly here…?’

It had been such a long time since she had left the palace. Feeling confused, she spun around to take it all in.

The vast palace halls, splendid furnishings, fountains spraying clear water, and immaculately tended gardens were all grander and more ornate than those at the Fourth Prince’s palace where she had once lived. This could only be the Emperor’s palace.

Reaching for the book on her lap, she realized that her hand was thinner and more fragile than she remembered.

‘Why…?’

Confusion swept over her. She closed the book, and at that moment—

Crack.

The sharp snap of a twig underfoot.

Selaia turned her head toward the sound.

And there she saw a face she never expected.

‘Sir Laska?’

Dressed in splendid finery, his face colder and more fatigued than usual, it was unmistakably Laska.

Selaia, struck speechless in her surprise, could only stare. Just as dazed, Laska looked back at her before finally opening his mouth.

“What is your name?”

The moment she heard the question, Selaia awoke from the dream.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

“…What a strange dream.”

Selaia opened her eyes and muttered faintly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

She had put Rote to bed and enjoyed a rare evening nap, but she found herself dreaming a strange dream. It must have been because of what Rote had said earlier that day — her words had been lingering in Selaia’s mind ever since. Selaia shook her head at herself.

‘Laska and the imperial palace… Those two hardly belong together. No… that’s not true.’

The more she thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. His appearance and demeanour surpassed those of most nobles: he was as disciplined as a knight, yet also elegant.

The scent she had caught when he brushed past her that afternoon returned to her suddenly.

Selaia shivered slightly. The air felt cool; she had left her window open.

‘It’s already late. I should just sleep again tonight.’

She rose from bed to close the window, and it was then that she heard the sound of wheels rolling outside.

A carriage. Horses. Several others moving in escort. She recognized the presence, but the late hour of its arrival made her blink in surprise. Reality felt as though it had drawn close abruptly.

“To think I nearly forgot this.”

Her unsettled mood, unknowingly adrift, began to settle again.

 ‘Lord Devonshire must have gone home. Then I’ll ask Elaine to see that someone stands guard at the gates…’

While her thoughts were racing, there was a knock on her chamber door — or rather, an imitation of a knock, produced by a small voice.

“Knock, knock.”

Selaia recognized the speaker instantly. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door. With a gentle smile, she turned the handle.

There stood her beloved daughter.