It was regrettable. She had been waiting for the right moment to bring it up, but suddenly bringing up a topic that hadn’t been asked about seemed a bit off…
‘After the one meal a day ends, let’s talk while having a meal together. I’ll subtly find a chance to bring it up.’
But can she really eat with Sion? Would she be able to look at his face and his eyes and swallow the food down her throat?
Well, she didn’t know. She would think about that when the time came.
“Ugh, I’m hungry.”
Laila muttered to herself countless times over the past five days as she collapsed onto the bench.
Suddenly, she heard a small rustle in her pocket.
‘Rustling?’
Why is her pocket making this noise?
“Oh, right!”
Laila exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
‘I almost forgot about this.’
Carefully reaching into her pocket, Laila pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Thump-thump.
Laila’s heart was beating faster than usual.
‘Is anyone around?’
Laila looked around with a cautious gaze.
She had deliberately ventured deeper into the courtyard, hoping to breathe in the fresh air and relax away from prying eyes.
Although she hadn’t noticed anyone around for a while, given the circumstances, Laila didn’t let her guard down easily.
Laila spoke in a subtle voice towards her surroundings.
“Excuse me.”
Silence.
“Is anyone here?”
Silence.
“Really?”
Silence.
“If you don’t show up in… seconds, you’re bald.”
Silence.
After exactly 5 seconds, Laila finally breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I’m the only one here!’
While someone might be able to conceal their presence, no one would tolerate being called baldy.
After confirming that she was alone in this place, Laila once again stared at the crumpled paper.
Gulp.
Her throat moved as she swallowed saliva.
The look in Laila’s eyes as she stared at the paper became intense.
‘If this is what I think it is, I need to burn it right away. So that no one sees.’
At this point, many might wonder.
Why is Laila overreacting to a mere piece of paper?
To understand this, we need to recall a short conversation that Laila and Sion had a few days ago.
Three days ago, to be exact.
It had been two days since Sion moved to the bedroom right next to Laila’s.
Sion hadn’t stepped out of the bedroom since then.
Laila had her own theory as to why he hadn’t moved.
Probably because his shoulder injury hadn’t fully healed yet… Going outside must be uncomfortable.
However, no matter what, staying in the bedroom all day would be boring.
Is there anything Sion could do, even inside the bedroom?
Laila pondered such concerns and suddenly came up with an idea that sparkled so brightly in her mind that she felt compelled to smack her palm with her fist in admiration.
Why didn’t I think of this sooner?
Laila promptly ran—well, she didn’t really need to run since his room was right next door—straight to Sion’s bedroom and, as usual, found him sitting on the bed.
‘Sion, I’ll teach you how to read and write.’
‘…….’
‘I mean it. Reading and writing.’
Laila was full of hope at this point. Hope for what? The hope was that she could become Sion’s mentor, leading to a master-disciple relationship.
A mentorship.
Master and pupil!
‘A teacher would be much harder to kill than the daughter of an enemy.’
Alas, of course. It’s so obvious. It’s a very natural story.
Originally, she had wanted to become friends with him, but if she could become his mentor, that would be much more…….
‘I don’t need it.’
‘Huh? No, Sion. Listen to me. Knowing how to read and write in a country where the illiteracy rate is 70 percent would be a huge advantage. You could do so much more than—’
Just as Laila was about to explain in detail how valuable it would be to know how to read and write in a country with such a high illiteracy rate, Sion silently brought out paper and a pen.
Then he wrote two names side by side on the paper.
Laila Hildegarde.
Sion.
……His handwriting was flawless.
Feeling an inexplicable eeriness from the tightly written word “Hildegarde.” Laila belatedly snapped out of her daze at Sion’s following question.
‘Done?’
‘……Ah, yeah, you can write. Your handwriting is so pretty!’
Laila’s head instinctively swivelled around, trying to think of something flattering to say. But, of course, there was no response to her compliment.
And so, the conversation between Sion and Laila came to an end.
That night, Laila fell asleep later than usual.
Laila, who had arrogantly assumed that a commoner orphan like himself would naturally be illiterate, felt a bit embarrassed afterwards.
She struggled to sleep, tossing and turning out of embarrassment one moment, and then kicking off the covers out of awkwardness the next.
The next day, Laila was sleep-deprived all day.
Anyway,
Thanks to that brief experience, Laila learned that Sion wasn’t illiterate.
He could write quite proficiently.
Then, in his bedroom, there was an enigmatic piece of paper.
So, here’s the issue:.
What could a ten-year-old child, who lost his family overnight and was brought to the enemy’s castle, possibly have to write about in the dead of night?
Laila was half certain.
Curses.
Accusations.
Insults.
Curses and insults directed at specific individuals would undoubtedly fill the pages.
Laila shuddered momentarily and rubbed her shoulder with one hand.
What if this piece of paper really did contain words cursing the Marquis of Hildegarde?
And what if the Marquis of Hildegarde ever learned of its existence?
‘It must not happen!’
The Marquis was even more devious than anyone imagined. At least, that’s what Laila believed.
Laila shook her head, picturing the marquis’s soldiers dragging Sion out of his room while he was still recuperating.
Her tightly pressed lips tingled.
“I can’t let that happen. First, I’ll burn this today, and then I’ll find the rest in Sion’s room at night and burn them too.”
What was once half certainty has now turned into complete conviction.
Enveloped in strong determination, Laila held the piece of paper tightly in both hands.
She would burn it, but before that, she should check what was written?.
Maybe, just maybe, there were words cursing Laila, not the Marquis.
That would be sad, but maybe it would be better.
“Huh?”
Laila froze after fully unfolding the paper.
“Is it a curse…….”
No, it wasn’t.
There were no curses, accusations, or insults written on the crumpled paper.
In fact, it wasn’t even words.
Laila absentmindedly ran her fingertips over the ‘drawing’ on the paper.
‘Home…….’
It was a family home.
It appeared small, making it unlikely for many people to live together.
No more than ten people?
With that number of people, the house must have been quite chaotic every day.
Just by turning her head, one could easily spot family members living together. Perhaps occasionally, several people would gather and chat in one place by chance.
The smell of food would quickly fill the house if someone was preparing a meal.
Some who had nothing else to do would rush to the kitchen to help with the meal preparations.
And occasionally…
A young boy might silently capture the scenes of those family members helping out on paper.
Laila blinked slowly.
The house’s exterior was the only thing visible in the drawing.
But why did it feel like she could also see the inside of the house?
Was it because the drawing was so vivid and well-drawn?
Or perhaps…
Laila turned her gaze away from the paper. She looked into the empty space and deliberately murmured to herself after folding the paper and putting it back in her pocket.
‘Well, it’s a relief. It was simply a drawing, not a curse or insult. Aside from that, it doesn’t matter if anyone sees it. I don’t need to burn it.’
Furthermore, there was no need to bother searching through Sion’s room again at night.
Everything turned out well.
But…
Despite everything being fine,
Why did it not bring as much joy as expected?
ahh this is sad