Ten years. The time it takes for dozens of seasons to bloom and wither.

It’s enough time for someone’s face, even their name, to be forgotten.

So why are you standing before me?

Why are you calling my name?

Standing there with such a different body. Yet with the same face.

[This is the timeline separator]

Imperial Year MCCXV. III. I.

So, 10 years ago from now, I first met him, Casian Blanchet.

Alphonse, a small town far from the capital, was a small city with few residents – peaceful if spoken of kindly, monotonous if spoken of harshly.

Standing under the sky that always flowed the same way, daily life flowed just like that.

Still, this place, known for its quite good scenery, had many sights to see.

Though the territory’s people themselves had no leisure to enjoy such useless things.

For most of the territory’s people, it was their daily routine to move until their bodies were burned black under the scorching sun, digging and cultivating vast farmlands according to the lord’s orders.

The immigrants who had come from other places and settled were relatively well-off, belonging to the wealthy class.

Those who owned fishing boats and went out to sea to observe and catch fish were the envy of many territory people.

The same was true for those who had curried favor with the lord and had their names listed in the merchant association.

But even so, they were all more or less the same kind of people.

In the end, they were all people who had to work all day while being extorted with massive taxes by the lord, barely scraping by day to day.

I too was one of those territory people.

The only difference was that my mother had to do twice as much work as others to raise me alone.

She was an immigrant who had come to settle in this village, carrying young me.

While there were other immigrants in this village, what set my mother apart was that she truly had a noble appearance.

A snow-white face rarely seen in the village, delicate hands that seemed to have never touched a drop of water, smooth hair like that of a capital noble in any fairy tale, and pitiful features…

Mother had an appearance sufficient to instantly attract the attention of the villagers.

Occasionally, when the villagers, who were very interested in others’ affairs, asked about her husband, my mother would answer with a slightly reddened face, always the same. Like a set script.

[The child’s father was a commoner knight and a man who loved me very much. He died bravely on the battlefield, defending the empire.]

This was repeated several times after that, and there was a certain pattern to it.

Men old enough to be uncles would glance at my mother, throwing low-quality questions at her.

After that, the aunties from those houses would come to my mother and stir up stories about her father, her weakness.

At such times, my mother would give the same answer.

At such times, my mother’s eyes would tremble and her eyelids would redden.

Those gazes, looking at my mother with curious eyes as if expecting something new from that same answer every time.

As a young child, I resented the villagers who were so interested in others’ affairs.

Because after the story of her dead father came up, my mother would become sad.

Mother seemed to want to hide such scenes from her young daughter, so she would cry secretly.

However, in a room of just a few compartments, that scene was inevitably captured in my eyes as well.

From my young perspective, mother seemed to be longing for father.

Each time, I would hide by the door as she intended and just wait for that time to pass.

That was all I could do as a young child.

Even after that, the low-quality interest continued for quite a long time.

It was because a rather delicate woman who looked like some ‘foreign princess’ was enough to fascinate the village men.

Whenever their gazes fell on my mother, knowing what would happen, I often confronted the men.

The young child who said, unlike her age, ‘We don’t need people like you, so leave’ quickly became known as the ill-mannered kid in the village.

That was better. Because after that, mother cried less and became a bit more courageous.

With the determination to protect me, mother began to actively participate in village affairs.

Some who saw her pitiful situation would bring her work to do.

Since she had to take care of her daughter too, it was mother’s daily routine to go out to work at dawn and come back late at night.

From odd jobs for merchant groups to assisting with farm work and restaurant work, mother’s work was endless.

Her once delicate hands gradually became rough, and her snow-white skin turned dark.

The foreigner who had entered the village with a heterogeneous atmosphere slowly became a member of the village like that.

Nevertheless, her unique atmosphere did not fade, so when mother was among the villagers, she still looked like some noble from the capital.

As I grew up, I vaguely came to understand why mother’s eyes trembled whenever she spoke about father.

Her eyes would tremble when she lied.

This led to the certainty that everything she said about father was not true.

Of course, that didn’t mean I brought up the topic of father.

It’s obvious what kind of person would abandon us like this, right? To me, he was a nonexistent person.

As it had been since birth.

I didn’t particularly miss father or anything.

It was ridiculous to miss someone I had never even seen, and I guessed he probably wasn’t a very good person anyway.

If he had been a good person, he wouldn’t have abandoned someone as good as mother like this in the first place. And with his own child, no less.

Mother would hide the wrinkles spreading across the back of her hands while buying me delicious things and reading me books.

But it was truly difficult for a woman to work alone while raising a child.

Mother started to fall ill from the year I turned thirteen.

Even some villagers who had been accommodating couldn’t continue to look after mother’s circumstances when she couldn’t work properly.

Medicine was outrageously expensive, and mother seemed to try to save on those costs by hiding her pain.

She didn’t even rest from work until she collapsed, stubbornly persistent.

In the end, only after being bedridden did she inevitably quit working.

After that, I took on whatever jobs I could.

I substituted for the odd jobs mother used to do and was occasionally introduced to small tasks in the village.

From the time I was evaluated as doing work properly even without being particularly clever, the amount of work also increased considerably.

In the capital, it would be nonsense for someone my age to be devoted to work, but in this Alphonse, far from there, it was common to work regardless of age if one didn’t want to starve.

It was routine to wash dishes until my hands were worn, gather herbs, and then do transcription work with what little writing skills I had, returning home with the deep night sky.

Occasionally, like a ship that had lost its buoy, directionless resentment would be directed towards the nonexistent father.

But even that was a luxury that could only be indulged in when there was time to spare.

For me, who didn’t even have time to look up at the sky, emotional labor was just an obstacle that interfered with other work.

That day was one of those days too.

Standing at the entrance of spring announcing the end of the cold and harsh winter, I moved busily.

It was to do the miscellaneous tasks I had taken on part-time.

The massive mansion with a huge signboard at the entrance seemed endless even after walking for a long time, befitting the place where the lord lived.

It was the first time entering this mansion, which was usually not open to the public.

Although I usually took on most jobs without being picky, I couldn’t reach that level for the mansions of noble families, as even the servants were strictly vetted for their status.

Mother had repeatedly warned me not to do work that would reveal our status.

Maybe father was a criminal.

Or maybe mother really was a princess of a fallen country.

After concluding the latter as I pleased, I stepped through the bushes.

A pleasant sensation brushed my feet.

I must do well this time, by all means.

The pay for this job is incomparably larger than any other work.

If I do the job properly and get hired as a regular employee, it could be a great help for mother’s medicine costs.

The words of Aunt Mary, who wrote the recommendation letter, flashed through my mind.

[You know that dying young master who came in for recuperation this time, right?]

Casian de Blanchet.

Even his name was noble and beautiful, befitting the esteemed guest of the mansion.

How much commotion there was when the heir of the Blanchet family came to the village.

It was enough to reach even my ears, who usually don’t care about others’ business.

The owner of such mighty power that could make everyone kneel with just his name.

Even the lord, who is in a place we can’t even look up to, is just an ant that bows its head before him.

They say the servants of the mansion were turned upside down at Blanchet’s single word that he would visit Alphonse for recuperation.

They say they spent a whole month cleaning every inch of the path the heir would walk on, not leaving a speck of dust.

I vividly remember Aunt Mary’s face as she complained about why he came all the way here, making everyone suffer, when he had such a nice capital.

[I heard he doesn’t have much time left to live, maybe that’s why his temper is so nasty. He’s only been here for how long and he’s already driven out all the servants.]

What’s the use of having so much when your life is terminal?

Aunt Mary’s muttered words echo in my ears.

And her voice that spoke as if it was a sad story, yet treated it entirely as someone else’s business.

I too briefly thought that maybe that man was more pitiful than me.

[No one lasted even a day. The madam kept insisting that things might change if they brought in someone around his age… El, couldn’t you manage just one day?]

Aunt Mary said that the ill-tempered madam she mentioned every day often threw objects.

Probably this time too, if they couldn’t find a replacement, the aunt might suffer greatly.

Well, from the perspective of the lord who had put in years of effort into the capital’s affairs aiming for a noble position in the center, this was a tremendous opportunity.

There would be no better chance to try to get in Blanchet’s good graces and advance.

But if that picky heir even slightly misspoke, wouldn’t it be a big problem?

The madam, who would consider it her duty as a wife to do her best to assist him for her husband’s advancement, was surely pushing the servants hard.

I, who hadn’t budged even when Aunt Mary whispered using my nickname, immediately agreed when I heard the daily wage.

Call me materialistic if you will, but I can’t help it.

For someone like me who lives day by day urgently, nothing is more important than the daily wage.

Come to think of it, I too, like Aunt Mary who spoke as if it was someone else’s business, wasn’t interested in his terminal life.

And yet, for a moment, I felt pity.

Disgustingly so.

Even as she pushed me in, Aunt Mary didn’t seem to expect me to last long.

Contrary to the aunt’s thoughts, I considered it no big deal to handle one mere man.

After all, I was someone who could accommodate anything if it paid.

But the majestic atmosphere of the mansion I encountered upon entering the entrance overwhelmed me.