“Mom.”

Millia said.

“I often received clothes like this from her friends. Mom’s clothes and mine too.”

As Laila nodded to indicate she was listening, Millia looked down at the skirt of the dress she was wearing.

“Mom has many strange friends.”

“Strange friends?”

Laila asked.

“What kind of strange friends?”

Millia tilted her small head and twirled in place. The fluffy petticoat, upon closer inspection, appeared to be made of several layers of thin sheets or curtain fabric. Her ankles, extending below, were extremely thin for her height.

“Friends who give things like wallets or coats. Sometimes they give clothes or shoes. Jewelry too. But Mom has never invited her friends home. And sometimes she introduces me by a name other than Millia.”

Laila’s lips pressed into a straight line. She had a feeling that wherever this child’s mother was and whoever she had become, she was not living a normal life.

Wallets, coats, clothes, and jewelry. Those items supposedly received from ‘friends’ were undoubtedly stolen or swindled away.

“Millia.”

When Laila called her name, the girl who had been spinning around stopped moving.

“Did you call me to find your mom?”

After hesitating for a moment, Millia nodded.

“You don’t know where your mom is, right?”

When Laila asked again, a troubled expression spread across Millia’s young face. Millia’s feet shuffled awkwardly, her feet crumpled by the ridiculously small shoes, fading to semi-transparency and revealing the ground beneath.

“Mom told me to wait in the square. She said she’d come to get me.”

“You mean that square from earlier?”

“Yes. Mom said… if I wore this pretty dress, she’d be able to find me quickly, so I shouldn’t worry and just wait. And she gave me this too.”

Millia opened her tiny hand to reveal a small silver coin. It was a real silver coin that even Laila could touch, but its edges were severely worn and the engraved pattern was faint. It was a counterfeit coin minted with a low silver content.

“And your mom didn’t come back?”

“Mom probably couldn’t find me.”

Millia said dejectedly.

“Some man tried to take me away, so I ran. He said he was Mom’s friend, but I didn’t believe him. Mom has never shown me her friends.”

Laila tightly pressed her lips together, swallowing the knife-like truth she had immediately realized. Even if she had died long ago, even if she was no longer among the living, she didn’t want to tell such a young child that your mother abandoned you.

Or that she might have sold you.

“Millia.” Laila made a gesture as if lightly placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Do you remember your mom’s name?”

Millia’s round eyes blinked a couple of times. Now that she looked closely, there was a small teardrop mole below her left eye. Laila looked straight at the girl’s face, remembering an old story that said people with teardrop moles had many occasions to cry.

“I don’t know.”

After a long silence, Millia quietly answered.

“I can’t remember. I’m sure I knew it, but… at some point, I couldn’t remember Mom’s name anymore. Or what she looked like. Mom had curly blonde hair. I’m not blonde, so Mom always had to dye my hair. She would say, ‘If you were blonde, it would have been easier to make friends.'”

Millia, who had been mumbling in a monotone, looked up at Laila.

“Do you think Mom didn’t love me because I wasn’t blonde?”

“No, Millia. That’s not it.”

“Do you think Mom abandoned me? What do you think?”

Silence fell. Laila watched as Millia’s body became almost transparent and then returned to being as distinct as a human. The girl was confused.

She must have been continuously avoiding the truth. Laila thought.

During the long time she had spent unable to remember her mother’s name and face, this child must have worried alone. Did Mom abandon me, or did she lose me? Or did something happen to Mom?

Is Mom happier without me? Or is she more miserable?

Laila suddenly recalled her mother’s armchair. Towards the end of her life, she was almost always sitting in that chair, casting a complex and hazy gaze.

She was a witch like Laila, but she couldn’t see what Laila saw. Laila remembered her when she seemed to shed her human form, unable to contain the mixture of worry and pride, fear and inexplicable joy.

She remembered her mother who tried to escape from herself while sobbing, who closed her eyes without being able to remember her daughter’s name in the end.

When she was finally able to shed her physical shell, was her mother happy to leave Laila behind?

Or was she sad?

“Why are you crying?”

A cool sensation spread across her cheek. Laila looked at Millia’s small hand touching her cheek and closed her eyes.

The sadness that the child had hidden and concealed for a long time, the vague longing and resentment, were melting and flowing through her.

“I want to find your mother for you, but it’s not something I can do.”

Laila said.

“The most I can do now is to see you. I can’t do anything else.”

“I know.”

Millia said in a small voice.

“I thought you might be able to find Mom for me, but I quickly realized you couldn’t. You can see me, but you can’t touch me. Your eyes haven’t dimmed, but many of the things you could do have disappeared.”

Laila quietly nodded.

“I’m sorry I can’t find your mom for you.”

“It’s okay.”

Millia made a gesture as if kicking the ground with the tip of her shoe.

Laila crouched down in front of the child and undid the strap of the too-small shoe. On the inside of the strap was a delicate embroidery of worn-out lily of the valley patterns.

The feet that had been almost shriveled while trapped inside the leather slowly stretched out. Millia, having taken off her shoes, wore an expression that seemed more comfortable despite not being alive.

“Your mom.”

Laila, holding the shoe in her hand, said.

“She must have regretted losing you at least once, at some point.”

“Do you think so?”

Millia, who had been wiggling her toes, looked down at her own arm that was fading hazily.

“Do you think Mom was sad without me?”

“Probably.”

Laila answered.

“She must have thought of you. Even if for a very brief moment, even if just for a single moment. She couldn’t have completely forgotten you.”

Whatever that meant.

Millia, who had slightly lowered her chin, looked down at her feet freed from the tiny shoes and then raised her gaze towards Laila.

“Thank you.”

The girl said in a small voice. It was a voice that sounded close yet distantly far away, like the sound of waves you hear when you put a seashell to your ear.

“If I’m born as a human child again, I hope I meet a mom like you.”

A single droplet was seen rolling down over the lips that were quivering slightly as if crying.

When the skirt of the fully bloomed azalea-colored dress fluttered and disappeared, Laila realized that someone was grabbing her shoulder and shaking her.

“Laila.”

An unfamiliar voice. No, a familiar voice. Laila blinked blankly as if waking from a dream and raised her head.

“Eustar.”

“Good heavens, Laila.”

Eustar’s arms strongly embraced Laila’s shoulders. His body was hot as if feverish and shaking severely.

“Do you know how worried I was? Don’t ever do that again. You understand? Never again!”

Laila, still bewildered, was in Eustar’s embrace when she looked down at the strange sensation in her hand.

It was a worn and tattered child’s shoe, its color no longer discernible. The strap that had been tightly fastened had rotted and broken, leaving a trace as sharp as if cut by a knife where the loop had come off.

“I’m sorry.”

Laila whispered.

“I’m sorry for startling you, Eustar.”

She tightly grasped the shoe in her hand and embraced Eustar’s body. His trembling was fully transmitted to Laila, creating an even larger wave.

“You’ll have to explain to me exactly why you did that.”

Eustar said. He tried to put on an angry expression, but the moment his eyes met Laila’s, he sighed in relief and kissed her.

“Let’s go back. We’ve herded all the people in the square to one side. Like herding chicks.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

Eustar, who had helped Laila up and dusted off the dirt on her knees, bumped his forehead against hers.

“We’ll have to turn the castle into a flower garden. If we use the excuse that we did it for Aline, even the treasury department won’t complain.”

The man took Aline to a field full of lilies of the valley.

There were several quaint gardens within Sierrow Castle, but Aline thought this place with only grass and lilies of the valley was prettier.

The lush green clovers and long, slender blades of grass, with white flowers that looked like they might make tinkling bell sounds scattered all over in between, was a sight beautiful even to a child’s eyes.

“Whose flower garden is this?”

Aline asked.

“Is it your flower garden, mister?”

The man was watching Aline gently touch the curved stem of a lily of the valley when he answered in a slow voice.

“No. This isn’t anyone’s flower garden. It’s a place unknown to anyone who lives here. Except for your mother.”