Chapter 1.2

Danielle Odillon’s birthday fell in early spring, just as the chilly winds were subsiding. Marquis Odillon always held a grand celebration for his beloved youngest daughter, using the excuse of a spring banquet. Although it was merely a short event before the adults’ dinner and ball, attendees always brought gifts for the child. As a result, Danielle became the most celebrated birthday girl in the capital during that season.

Her table was set by the lake in the inner courtyard, next to a large holly tree. A small tea table for snacks and a larger table for stacking gifts stood side by side. Dressed like an angel, the adorable young lady sat at the tea table, swinging her legs as she received congratulations from both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Some adults couldn’t contain their affection, fawning over her as if she were the cutest thing they’d ever seen. Meanwhile, shy children, still clinging to their parents, awkwardly handed over gifts that were often as big as themselves. When a child around five or six presented a gift, Danielle would sometimes display her sisterly consideration by opening it on the spot. One such gift turned out to be a white rabbit doll, which made her laugh delightedly. The young noblewoman who was the child’s mother pulled her daughter behind her skirt, looking slightly embarrassed.

“My little one insisted on giving a rabbit… I suppose porcelain dolls are more appropriate now?”

“I love rabbits! Thank you, Madame. I’ll make it friends with my blue rabbit.”

Her sincere gratitude brightened the woman’s expression. Though children’s gifts were just that—children’s gifts—the mother had genuinely worried. Overcoming her shyness, she gently pushed her daughter forward to introduce herself.

“My daughter’s name is Katarin. Katarin Martel. Would you say hello to her?”

“Thank you for the cute rabbit, Katarin.”

The little girl, her cheeks flushed red, buried her face in her mother’s skirt and left. Behind her stood a boy with a peculiar expression. Danielle wiped away her sisterly smile, reverting to her childish demeanor. This meant she now wore a slightly sulky expression tinged with boredom.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Do you like that rabbit so much?”

“What? Are we still talking about the rabbit?”

‘It’s cute.’ Danielle hugged the large rabbit doll, which was much bigger than her beloved Lily in the bedroom, as if to show off. She thought Cyril, dressed up as meticulously as she was and holding a bundle of gifts in his arms, looked a little ridiculous. After all, it wasn’t even his birthday.

She also recalled her father’s constant nagging: never lose to Cyril Frey. 

‘Not that I’d lose even if I did nothing, but isn’t he trying too hard?’

With such childish thoughts, Danielle extended her free hand, the one not holding the doll.

“I’m done with rabbits. Hand over your gift; I’ll accept it.”

“Can’t you put that rabbit down first?”

“I have two hands, you know.”

“That’s not what I mean… Ugh, fine.”

The small power struggle between their four hands was observed with great satisfaction by Viscount Frey, who stood nearby. Boys and girls, he thought, always bond through little squabbles like this. After all, his wife Sylvia, who had grown up in the neighboring estate, had been two years older than him… 

Wait, wasn’t Sylvia’s gift supposed to be something else?

Meanwhile, the children’s quarrel had escalated slightly beyond a playful tug-of-war. Cyril finally grabbed the white rabbit’s arm and yanked it away. The rabbit tumbled onto the neatly trimmed lawn, prompting a soft gasp of surprise from Katarin’s mother, who hadn’t gone far. Danielle gritted her teeth and glared at Cyril. In the midst of this, Cyril, who had even dropped his own gift, looked flustered.

“Are you serious? Katarin is right over there!”

“No, Danielle… That’s not what I meant…”

“You’re absolutely useless! What does my rabbit have to do with you? It’s not like you’re going to buy me a new one!”

“I mean, it’s just—”

“Kids, get down! Everyone, take cover!”

Viscount Frey rushed forward, grabbing both children by the arms and rolling them onto the grass. The white rabbit doll’s belly had started to burn, turning pitch black.

‘My gift!’ Cyril stumbled out of his father’s grasp, reaching for it. At that moment, the white rabbit exploded with a thunderous roar. Cyril’s gift, still unopened, detonated shortly after.

***

The attack targeting a ten-year-old child caused an uproar throughout the capital. Marquis Odillon, practically demanding answers from the King, managed to secure temporary control over the Royal Investigation Bureau. However, even after searching shops, factories, artisans, and mages, the perpetrator was not found. Only one poor doll shop became the subject of vicious rumors and had to close its doors.

The investigation revealed only one fact: Katarin and Cyril’s gifts came from the same shop. The Martel family, including the Countess and her daughter, underwent a rather severe interrogation. However, it was eventually proven that little Katarin had personally chosen and overseen the wrapping of the rabbit doll, absolving them of responsibility. Of course, if Cyril’s rabbit doll hadn’t existed, it wouldn’t have been so easy to clear their suspicions.

Yes, Cyril’s gift was also a rabbit doll. On the eve of Danielle’s birthday, Cyril had secretly prepared a pink rabbit, unbeknownst to his parents. The original gift prepared by Viscountess Frey was now a matter of no interest to anyone. After all, the spring banquet held by the Odillon family, which included the youngest daughter’s birthday celebration, was a well-known event in the capital. For someone with sharp eyes and quick hands, slipping a magic stone bomb into one of the children’s toys being delivered to the estate wasn’t particularly difficult. Of course, it would require a complete lack of humanity.

Thanks to Viscount Frey’s quick thinking, no one suffered serious injuries. However, there were still minor casualties. Cyril Frey, who had struggled to retrieve his gift, was the most injured.

Fortunately, he escaped with only burns on his arm and side, though he required a relatively long recovery period for a child. After confirming his son’s safety, Viscount Frey wasted no time pursuing his next priority: pushing forward with the engagement.

‘My ten-year-old son risked his own safety to save the young lady. Where else can you find such chivalry and devotion in the world?’

Despite being injured himself, Viscount Frey shamelessly attributed all the credit to his son, as if he had done nothing. He acted as though the entire horrific incident had been orchestrated by fate to bind the boy and girl in eternal union. While his quick thinking and bravery in saving many people in the Marquis’ garden were genuine, his excessive ambition tarnished his reputation.

Thankfully, Marquis Odillon was a man of more integrity. He acknowledged that he could no longer escape Frey’s proposal. ‘Did that guy plant the bomb in the rabbit’s belly just to push for the engagement?’ However, he also knew how much Winoc Frey cherished his only son. While the man was somewhat cunning, he wasn’t that malicious.

Thus, Danielle Odillon and Cyril Frey’s engagement was formalized in writing before their burns and wounds had even healed. King Brendan II, amused by Viscount Frey’s boastful retellings of the embarrassing tale, personally provided two copies of a standard contract, complete with his handwritten title. The boy and girl reluctantly signed the documents.

Danielle read the cryptic contract, filled with dozens of clauses, over and over again. Aside from the obligation for the two of them to marry in the future, she couldn’t understand a thing. She found it hard to believe that all this absurdity had stemmed from a petty quarrel with Cyril.

When it came time to exchange the contracts and finalize the second signature, Danielle visited the Frey estate. Cyril, his arm and back still heavily bandaged, greeted her from his bed. His cheeks were hollow, giving him an unchildlike appearance, and his unkempt golden hair fell over his pale forehead.

Danielle handed him the bouquet she had brought as a get-well gift. Cyril, looking fatigued, accepted it and placed it on his lap. Although the Odillon garden had no roses, it was filled with small, beautiful flowers that were lovely no matter how they were arranged. Danielle had woven together purple and white blooms and now hesitantly broke the silence.

“So, how’s… your injury?”

“It hurts.”

His already short response was even terser. 

Calm down, Danielle. He’s a patient… 

Suppressing her irritation, Danielle began to say what she had prepared.

“On my birthday… I really wanted to thank you. Thanks to Viscount Frey and you, I wasn’t seriously hurt and came out safely.”

“What did I even do? All I did was bring a rabbit doll.”

This brat. 

His face, pitifully gaunt, and his fingers, weakly fiddling with the purple petals, barely managed to suppress her anger once more. Danielle took a deep breath. Clutching her skirt tightly, she forced herself to smile with all the politeness a ten-year-old could muster.

“Father said he’d hold another birthday party for me. Last time, it was part of the spring banquet, but this time, we’ll invite only close friends and spend the whole day playing. Katarin will be invited too. It’s a shame that both the rabbit you gave me and Katarin’s burned down…”

“That’s why I told you to stop playing with rabbit dolls.”

There was an audible snap as Danielle’s patience broke. Gripping her skirt tightly, her green eyes blazed with fury. Cyril’s face, on the other hand, remained cold and indifferent. The small teddy bear that had always been by his bedside was no longer there. No longer hugging the bear, nor touching the bouquet, Cyril muttered in a low voice.

“That stupid rabbit.”

“…”

“I shouldn’t have gone along with your nonsense.”

Exactly. What was so special about that stupid rabbit? 

Danielle could easily remove Lily from her bed if she wanted to. It was just that he had meddled unnecessarily with her belongings, so she had told him to either leave her alone or bring a new toy. And yet, he had actually brought a toy—one with something strange inside its belly.

Danielle raised her fiery gaze to meet Cyril’s. His somber eyes showed not a flicker of emotion. An icy wall now stood between them. She declared firmly, enunciating each word.

“I don’t want to marry you.”

“Neither do I.”

Cyril’s reply was short and hollow. Danielle snatched back the bouquet she had given him and stormed out of the room, her footsteps loud. There was no voice calling her back. She climbed into her family’s carriage, burying her face in the bouquet as she burst into tears.

The second signature on the exchanged contract was completed hastily, at separate times and places. Danielle’s tenth birthday party was never held again. The two charred and dismembered rabbit dolls were placed in a sturdy wooden box and stored in the Marquis’ warehouse, not in Danielle’s room.

The two of them remained engaged, as sanctioned by the King, through ages eleven, twelve… and eventually twenty-two.