Vainty, whose neck had widened in an instant, blinked her eyes up and down.

“When did I apologize? You’re hilarious!”

“I’m only telling you this a bit, but I’m not really human. So, I can know what you’re thinking. Just now, you were thinking, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to say,’ right? Okay, I understand. I’ll consider that an apology for being commendable.”

“Lie, lie! Do you think I’m seven years old like the Lady?”

“If you look at how you two fight, you’re quite similar. What.”

While Vainty, who was still standing, looked slightly unstable, Maeyana, laughing lightly, went to tidy up the rags.

Nevertheless, her gaze involuntarily kept shifting towards the window facing the garden. Is Cedelloy doing well? She couldn’t help but worry.

Arianthe’s concern about what to do if the lights weren’t on seemed pale, as the garden keepers had already lit lamps throughout the garden before the twilight had completely disappeared.
Wiping and wiping, the pristine glass beyond which the flickering lights swayed never became as clean as the first time, creating round light shadows in well-groomed corners of the garden.

Cedelloy, looking down at the quietly walking Arianthe, asked, “Have you ever played with Maeyana in the garden?”

“I haven’t played, but she once stopped me from climbing a tree, saying it was dangerous.”

“A tree? Which tree?”

“That one over there.”

Arianthe pointed to the poplar tree decorating the edge of the garden. Though it had only been planted for a few years, it was already tall enough that stacking thirty people like Arianthe wouldn’t reach its height.

“…Maeyana is really strict. Arianthe, you must never climb that tree.”

Arianthe, holding onto his hand, nodded quietly.

“So, I climbed the apple tree instead!”

Should I praise her for this? Cedelloy wondered. Anyway, climbing the apple tree is much better than the poplar tree. At least, there’s no chance of dying from falling off the apple tree in this garden…

“…Well, that was… good. But it would be better not to climb any trees if possible.”

Arianthe, whose hand was tightly gripping his, twitched as she mumbled, “If you fall, it might be dangerous. Climbing a tree itself isn’t bad.”

“I don’t fall, Father! I climb trees very well.”

Arianthe’s eyes sparkled. Her expression seemed to say she couldn’t stand not showing him right away.

A soft smile appeared on Cedelloy’s face.

“Even your father used to love climbing trees when he was young.”

“Really? Even Father?”

“…Yes. I was just like you.”

In reality, it wasn’t Cedelloy’s story; it was Vervoe’s. Vervoe was indeed a mischievous boy. It was his habit to climb a tree, hide there, and startle people passing by by swinging upside down.

When his mother was bedridden with a cold, he secretly climbed a twisted pomegranate tree to bring down the most tempting and clean pomegranate that even the birds couldn’t reach.

Of course, it ended with a scolding from his father for frightening his sick mother…

Arianthe, who knew nothing, looked proud and happy at Cedelloy’s words. When the lamp’s light illuminated the fidgeting child, the golden hair shimmered like stars under her shoulders.

Seeing her, Cedelloy felt a pang of guilt once again, as if his chest was being painfully gripped by remorse.

“Arianthe.”

“Yes, Father.”

Arianthe looked up at Cedelloy with an innocent face, her expression a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what he was going to say.

Though he found Cedelloy so challenging, she had never spoken back to him, always trusting him unconditionally. Her eyes conveyed a belief, a desire to follow and love him, as if asking him to look at her.

Suddenly, he felt as if his throat were clogged. Cedelloy moved his tongue to push away the lump-like sensation and spoke.

“Call me ‘Father,’ not ‘A-Dad’ or anything like that.”