The presence of boxes, towels and scissors, as well as all the other items their mother had brought, did not mean that the cat would give birth immediately.

As the afternoon wore on, some of the onlookers grew tired and drifted away, only to be replaced by others. The light remained bright, but evening was drawing near.

Under the watchful gaze of many curious onlookers, the kittens were finally born safely.

When her mother and siblings asked how it had gone, Aillen nodded as if she herself had given birth. Smiles of relief blossomed across their faces.

Only her father stood apart, his brows drooping as he struggled to conceal the blow to his pride.

“How could something like this happen without me?”

“What, was the cat supposed to wait for you and schedule the event?”

He pouted and grumbled.

“You could have told me at least.”

“Well, someone had to mind the counter and the dining hall.”

Not even Aillen’s soothing tone could cheer him up. Technically, everyone except Aillen had come to help, so he hadn’t been alone. Nevertheless, she could understand why he felt left out.

“I’m sorry. It was hectic.”

“And it’s because we trust you that we left you at the counter!”

Haila chimed in loudly, exaggerating her praise.

When Riman rolled his eyes, she jabbed him sharply in the side. He nodded, looking pitiful.

“I’m eating all the yogurt later.”

Their father muttered—but he seemed somewhat appeased.

At last, Seren descended the ladder, looking slightly tired.

Instead of bringing down the box containing the cats, she suggested leaving it there for a few days so they could be cared for without disturbance.

“Oh dear—look at your clothes. Let me fetch some towels first. We’ll wash yours right away, so please go change.”

“Thank you.”

“We should be the ones thanking you. Children, quickly.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you very much.”

In response to the innkeeper’s gesture, the siblings politely bowed their heads.

Seren waved it off as though it were no big deal.

The twins’ hair was darker than Aillen’s, almost brown, and their green eyes were equally deep. Yet they resembled her unmistakably. Anyone could tell at a glance that they were siblings.

Seeing their freckled faces break into identical, radiant smiles eased the last of the tension from Seren’s shoulders.

And then—

Aillen.

When Seren turned to face her and met her bright green eyes, the tension she had tried to dismiss returned at once. She straightened up instinctively.

She was not someone who sought out trouble. If something was unnecessary, she did not involve herself. It wasn’t exactly a creed, but it was the principle by which she lived.

And yet she had taken on this inconvenience entirely because of Aillen.

She had been thinking about how to apologize for her earlier sharpness when she saw Aillen rushing off in a panic. In that sense, the timing was fortunate.

Although she did not fully understand why she had been watching her so closely, Seren allowed herself to go with the flow. After all, travelling had a way of loosening one’s usual boundaries. Besides, there was little else demanding her attention.

Seeing Aillen wearing the clothes she had given her was unexpectedly satisfying. For that reason alone, she accepted the trouble without complaint.

As it turned out, having Aillen beside her made the journey far less unpleasant than it might have been.

“Are your legs all right?”

“My legs?”

“You’ve been standing the entire time.”

Aillen glanced down at her legs and grinned.

“I can use my legs to prop up a bridge, so there’s no need to worry. But more importantly, are you all right, Seren? Come on. Like Mother said, you should change first.”

When Seren laughed softly at her clumsy wordplay, Aillen lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Only then did she notice that Seren was wearing the trousers she had recommended.

They suited her long legs perfectly.

It felt almost wasteful that they had been debuted in a dusty attic.

Following Seren’s gaze, Aillen’s blue-grey eyes dropped briefly to her own legs. A whisper of a smile curved her thin lips.

“I’ll trust your laundering skills.”

“Leave it to me.”

Aillen thumped her chest lightly and laughed. Seren’s lips curved into a subtle smile.

When the unexpectedly kind guest from the north returned wearing clean clothes, Aillen decided to treat her to drinks and snacks as a thank you.

***

By the time Seren had changed and was waiting in the dining hall, it was dusk.

Although the sunset always signaled the arrival of night, evening still came on suddenly.

Rather than staying in the dining hall as it began to fill up, they decided to enjoy a simple dinner and drinks elsewhere.

“We don’t normally let just anyone in—but you did something wonderful today.”

“I’m grateful.”

“It’s a special courtesy—with reason.”

Seren felt something inside her loosen at the sight of Aillen’s confident smile — it was a feeling she could not quite put into words.

Aillen led her to a room at the far end of the third floor of the inn. It was usually used for storing laundry and the air was filled with the warm, sun-dried scent of clean linen. They passed stacks of neatly folded towels and stepped out onto the small terrace attached to the room.

Beyond the window, a narrow white-gravel path stretched out, and the edge of the forest could be seen, with low buildings clustered close together.

With practiced ease, Aillen pushed open the stubborn window.

True to the mild climate, the evening air was gentle, carrying the fresh scent of damp greenery. Faint aromas from the dining hall below drifted upwards.

Standing there, it was easy to forget that it was still winter.

“Well?”

“It is worthy of being called a special courtesy… Aillen.”

Seren swallowed the word ‘you’ before she could say it. She knew how cold it could sound. She didn’t want to address Aillen with something so impersonal.

Yet, whenever she tried to say Aillen’s name, she felt a strange resistance, as though she had to push against something inside herself just to speak it.

Avoiding Aillen’s teasing smile, Seren turned her gaze outward.

Judging by the few days she had spent there, the scenery itself was not particularly striking. But there was something about it; everything blended seamlessly together without obstruction.

It stirred something unfamiliar within her.

She took it in with quiet, thoughtful eyes.

As if she understood, Aillen gave a small nod.

“Grandfather wanted to rent this room out as well, but Grandmother refused. She said it would be nice if the family could simply spend time here now and then.”

Seren inclined her head briefly.

It was indeed that sort of place.

Aillen began setting out her provisions with familiar ease.

They shared a simple dinner in companionable silence.

Seren found that she quite liked the local cuisine.

They used plenty of milk and butter.

Although she had called this a holiday, she hadn’t come with the intention of doing nothing. Out of habit more than anything, she had occasionally investigated the workings of the local market.

Nevertheless, she had been resting rather well.

“Come to think of it, you’ll be leaving soon.”

Aillen’s sudden remark did not register at first.

When Seren lifted a brow, Aillen laughed softly.

“You reserved the room for a week. Why are you looking at me as though I’m chasing you away?”

“Ah.”

Seren did not try to hide her slight embarrassment as she picked up her glass.

The liquor tasted different to what she had tried at the party. It lingered on her tongue, slightly bitter, but perfectly suited to the evening meal.

Clearly, Aillen had chosen the menu with care.

For some reason, her throat felt tight.

Seren pushed the words out.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes?”

This time, it was Aillen’s turn to be taken aback.

Yet Seren merely tilted her glass, as though what she had said was nothing out of the ordinary.

Inside, however, she was far from composed.

“For being discourteous yesterday.”

“…When were you discourteous?”

“At your friend’s restaurant.”

The moment Seren opened her mouth to speak, she regretted it.

Even to her own ears, her voice sounded cold and unnatural. It wasn’t dissatisfaction; it was simply habit.

She had been told as much on more than one occasion, but had never made an effort to correct it. If she had known that it would manifest itself like this, at such an inopportune moment, she might have tried to change it sooner.

Unexpectedly, Aillen burst into laughter.

“Should I take that to mean you’re staying longer?”

“…Yes.”

“Then I’ll extend your reservation as soon as we go downstairs.”

Aillen held out her glass.

This time, their glasses clinked together without any awkwardness.

A pleasant silence settled between them.

Seemingly in a good mood, Aillen swung her legs lightly. She moved as freely as the walnut leaves swaying ahead of them.

“How on earth did she drag that heavy body all the way up to the attic? I mean—the cat.”

“We may need to reinforce the attic.”

“Why? Thanks to it, a poor creature found a place to rest.”

Aillen’s eyes curved into a mischievous smile.

For no apparent reason, Seren felt a tightening in her chest. She said nothing, merely moistening her lips with another sip of liquor.

Perhaps it was the warmth spreading through her from the alcohol, or the way the evening air softened the world around them, but Aillen began to hum.

Without realizing it, Seren found herself humming along.

It should be noted that she was already pleasantly tipsy.

Aillen’s eyes widened even more. She looked as though she might drop the plate in her hands at any moment.

“Wait—Seren. You can sing?”

“Did I seem incapable of it?”

“No, it’s just… not that you can’t sing. It’s more that you don’t seem like the type who would.”

That was not entirely wrong.

Seren had no reply, so she took a quiet sip of her drink.

“I didn’t mean to offend you…”

“If this continues, we may end up apologizing more often than calling each other by name.”

Seren interrupted her gently.

Aillen leaned back and burst into laughter. The clear sound echoed through the darkening air like the chime of a bell. As the last traces of sunset disappeared, lights in surrounding houses flickered on, one by one.

“You’re right. Maybe I should just change my name to ‘Sorry, Aillen.’”

“In that case, I would become ‘Sorry, Seren.’”

“Exactly.”

With the light from the room behind them spilling outwards, the flush on Aillen’s face was clearly visible.

For a moment, Seren wondered whether it was from the alcohol or something else.

“So, will you sing something you know? With actual lyrics.”

“Mm…”

“Then I’ll sing too. Don’t hold back.”

“You danced just fine earlier.”

Seren almost said that she felt more confident dancing than singing, but then she realized how pitiful that might sound and remained silent.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have declined politely. At the very least, she would have changed the subject.

But for some reason, she did not want to do that now.

So she let the words fall — soft yet clear.

Even to herself, this was unexpected.

‘When my girl returned from wandering the streets,
What clung to the hem of her coat was not the winter wind, but her youth…’

It was only a single verse.

Aillen waited in silence, as though expecting more.

When it became clear that there wouldn’t be, she rolled her eyes.

“That’s it?”

“That’s as much of the lyrics as I remember.”

“You should at least hum the rest!”

“I only remember the melody up to that point as well.”

It was not entirely untrue—but Aillen stared at her as though she could not believe it.

“Unbelievable…”

Seren gave a small shrug.

“That part simply lodged itself in my ear.”

At this, Aillen rolled her green eyes dramatically.

Even after sunset, a mild breeze blew, and the murmur of voices from the dining hall filled the air. The silence here did not feel empty; it felt full and dense with something unseen.

Warmth, perhaps.

It was around then that Aillen began to hum. She picked up the melody Seren had started, then let it wander as she pleased, shaping it into her own tune.

What had begun as a somber melody slowly brightened, becoming wistful before ending on a light, refreshing note.

It felt as though a short play was unfolding.

Throughout this, Seren found that she could not take her eyes off Aillen’s profile. Something slow and subtle seemed to burrow into her chest, holding her still and preventing her from looking away.

Aillen turned towards her.

Her green eyes, bright as new leaves, curved into a smile.

“It’s probably not the same song. But since you only sang one line, we’ll call it even.”

This was meant as a playful challenge, an invitation to disagree.

But Seren felt as though her throat had closed.

She could only nod in silence.