Ophelia was snipping the tips of newly blooming flower buds.
Her grass-juice-stained fingertips were a mess.
The carefully stacked petals began to scatter with a gentle blow.
Raretis stood there passively, watching the action.
‘Better keep that feeling hidden in the future.’
Whether or not the reserved boy reacted, Ophelia sat down on the ground with a thud, dressed in a light purple gown that revealed her white shoulders.
The tall grass scraped her white calves and skin, yet her expression was unaffected.
‘I know you, brother. You have eyes that are occasionally identical to mine.’
Her calm green eyes examined the field, where the grass had grown to the height of a human.
‘Ophelia, what are you…’
‘I’m not sure why you have to do it, what truly passionate thing you don’t understand, what it means to want something, but you do it anyway because you have to, right? You’re nice to our mother, but are you sorry? You have no genuine feelings for your biological parents, who are idiots?’
‘…’
‘Better than those idiots who can’t even understand their own emotions. At the very least, you were the least repulsive of them morons.’
Ophelia put her index finger against a crawling ant.
The frightened ant was crushed.
Her soulless green eyes tracked the action.
Her fair hand searched the grass for another target.
‘That’s why everyone deludes themselves.’
‘…’
‘She has insecurities, but what if she could read your mind? Would anything differ?’
‘…’
‘No. She’d run even faster.’
‘Ophelia.’
‘She wouldn’t dare confess to you as long as I’m alive. She’s overcome with remorse and inadequacy toward others around me. It is not my place to step in.’
Ophelia’s voice was scratchy.
‘It might not be smooth sailing even after I’m gone, but it’ll be better than when I was alive.’
‘Ophelia…’
‘Don’t react only to be polite. It’s exhausting.’
Ophelia’s frog croaked loudly in her grasp.
The air was filled with the distant sound of cicadas.
Cicadas irritated Ophelia.
She despised summers filled with their buzzing, despising those insects that had spent over 10 years underground only to emerge, shine briefly, and then die.
Their fate, which shone brightly for a season before fading, reminded her of her own.
The frog fell to the ground.
Ophelia cupped her palm around her chin.
‘To be honest, I’m still debating what to do. I’m envious, you know.’
‘…’
‘Even though I have the key, I cannot open the treasure chest. It isn’t mine. That is extremely frustrating.’
Ophelia chuckled, but it was a harsh laugh rather than a regretful one.
It seemed as if a goddess despised people, one who smiled serenely even after inflicting floods, earthquakes, and droughts that annihilated living beings.
‘I guess you’re right, brother. The key is in my possession, but it is not mine. And whether I open the box or not, I’m doomed. I even know who owns the box. So, what do you recommend I do? Should I keep the key until I die so that no one else can unlock it? Or bury it in the wilderness where no one can find it?’
Knowing Ophelia, Raretis doubted she would hand the key and the box to their proper owner.
She’s more likely to mock the careless owner and ruin it.
‘…’
‘The gods have a strange sense of humor. How could they do such a thing to me? Are they asking me to make a decision? Do you want to believe in an uncertain hope, or do you want me to destroy everything?’
Ophelia chuckled faintly, her emotions smearing across her face like ink on water, unfathomable in words.
‘You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?’
‘…’
‘I wish I didn’t, too. Caring for someone is more difficult than I anticipated.’
‘…’
‘But that doesn’t mean I want to give you everything. I’m an extremely greedy person.’
It is not my responsibility if the kingdom falls or not.
Ophelia’s voice was almost lyrical.
A butterfly with a fractured wing fought before collapsing.
‘Someday, you’ll face a dilemma like mine.’
It was a prophecy, but not in the usual sense.
As a child, Raretis saw Ophelia as a comrade rather than a friend or fiancée.
The adults’ arrangements had created a tepid bond between them.
Even though the engagement had yet to be confirmed, Raretis was forced to take on a new position.
Raretis’ mother developed a one-sided hatred toward him after suffering from severe postpartum depression following his birth.
It was an overwhelming dislike, almost like she considered her son an enemy.
That animosity became stronger as Raretis matured and outperformed his sibling in every way.
When his father discovered injuries on his quiet second son, he sought a ‘legal’ way to take him away.
Raretis’ brother sided with their mother, who only favored him.
Raretis excelled at swordsmanship, outperforming both his brother and father.
However, his father preferred a calm family life to protect his talented son.
The father believed that eliminating the second son could create the illusion of a harmonious household, preferring to remove the problem rather than tackle it.
They thought the Windrose couple were friendly people, and Ophelia was stunning.
Being with them was a better option than being here.
Raretis only nodded as he listened to all of these convincing comments.
They said that being a lousy child was unacceptable.
They said that being a nice and mature child will eventually lead to his mother forgiving him.
This was something Raretis never got.
What sin did he need to be forgiven for?
His mother despised him no matter what he did.
Was it his fault he wasn’t born as the eldest son?
While the Windrose family was said to treat him as their son, Raretis understood the reality.
Even his ‘real’ family had deserted him, and failing here meant he’d be left nowhere to go.
Marchioness Windrose took excellent care of him, stating she wished she had a son like him.
Looking into her gentle eyes, Raretis felt grateful.
A responsibility he would have to return one day.
He had an obligation to Ophelia as long as he was with the Marquis’s family.
Every act of kindness had a cost.
Failure to realize his ‘mission’ would result in him being dumped once more.
Raretis has never seen someone more lovely than Ophelia.
Yet, looking at him with her vacuous, glass-like eyes, she appeared out of place.
She laughed and became enraged like other kids her age, but that was it.
Ophelia’s gaze into the nothingness was occasionally unnerving, with deep eyes that could not discern light from darkness.
But he was aware of it.
Neither could they ‘naturally’ understand human kindness, hate, or emotions.
To them, the concept of unconditional love was practically inconceivable.
According to Ophelia, human emotions are like food that always causes difficulties when ingested.
Even her biological parents’ love repulsed her.
The presence of a boy who did not breach the line with his apathetic demeanor was tolerable to her.
Their relationship wasn’t horrible because neither expected anything from the other.
When Ophelia’s actions deviated too far from traditional norms, Raretis would step in, and she primarily listened to him.
Others thought their link was stronger than anybody else’s after watching Ophelia heed Raretis’ comments.
Raretis was a kind and hardworking young man.
He didn’t care whether he received hostility or friendliness from others, but he needed a place to belong.
Even if the gesture wasn’t genuine, it was worth collecting.
He might have ended himself somewhere worse than the Windrose estate if he had misbehaved and lacked talent.
That’s why Emilia’s appearance piqued his interest.
Such strong and unrestrained feelings were unfamiliar to him.
Yes, she was rebellious despite the fact that she had no ‘trusted corner’.
She swore, clenched her teeth, and charged.
Why?
Wasn’t she terrified about being left behind?
Wasn’t she afraid of losing her position?
Emilia, who was sold for money, would scream if she was called a child sold for money.
Ophelia first loathed Emilia, telling Raretis that she would end up groveling.
She was, however, mistaken.
“You wouldn’t say such nonsense if your parents had raised you well. Is it a privilege to die? Don’t other people die? There are children your age that are starving!”
Emilia screamed fiercely and hurled words that others would never dare to voice in front of Ophelia.
She was unbreakable, no matter how much she was battered or starved.
Yes, kindness was what calmed Emilia’s wildness.
It started when her nanny, Odile, and a maid her age, Dorothy, started talking to her, and she uncomfortably reacted.
Even when arguing vehemently, Ophelia’s admonition to eat because she didn’t want Emilia to faint from hunger struck a chord.
Her lovely black eyes captivated him.
They stood out from the crowd like a well-polished, spherical, and black jewel.
The eyes of a little girl, their depth like venom.
Was it avarice?
Could that be described as greed?
Her eyes merely reflected what others were doing.
Despite her tremendous emotions and outbursts at others, her gaze remained fixed.
Raretis was intrigued by those eyes.
Could someone like him, who was only vaguely aware of other people’s feelings, change if he had such eyes?
When she looked at him, her eyes would gleam differently.
They appeared to be the end of a rainbow, cut off and sugar-coated, ready to burst into flame with a glimpse.
Despite this, whenever Raretis reached out, she would reject him like a wary wildcat.
She appeared desirous but ultimately turned away.
He didn’t realize how empty he felt with each rejection.
Raretis expected Emilia, like everyone else who had expectations of him, to demand something from him finally.
She would make unreasonable demands and be disappointed if they were not met.
Even if Emilia made demands, he couldn’t meet them.
He had been promised to Ophelia.
It was a hopeless situation.
He’d have to say no.
He pondered this casually.
What would become of their eyes?
Would they finally vanish?
He began to regret the prospect of losing them.
But such a scenario never occurred.
Ophelia was snipping the tips of newly blooming flower buds.
Her grass-juice-stained fingertips were a mess.
The carefully stacked petals began to scatter with a gentle blow.
Raretis stood there passively, watching the action.
‘Better keep that feeling hidden in the future.’
Whether or not the reserved boy reacted, Ophelia sat down on the ground with a thud, dressed in a light purple gown that revealed her white shoulders.
The tall grass scraped her white calves and skin, yet her expression was unaffected.
‘I know you, brother. You have eyes that are occasionally identical to mine.’
Her calm green eyes examined the field, where the grass had grown to the height of a human.
‘Ophelia, what are you…’
‘I’m not sure why you have to do it, what truly passionate thing you don’t understand, what it means to want something, but you do it anyway because you have to, right? You’re nice to our mother, but are you sorry? You have no genuine feelings for your biological parents, who are idiots?’
‘…’
‘Better than those idiots who can’t even understand their own emotions. At the very least, you were the least repulsive of them morons.’
Ophelia put her index finger against a crawling ant.
The frightened ant was crushed.
Her soulless green eyes tracked the action.
Her fair hand searched the grass for another target.
‘That’s why everyone deludes themselves.’
‘…’
‘She has insecurities, but what if she could read your mind? Would anything differ?’
‘…’
‘No. She’d run even faster.’
‘Ophelia.’
‘She wouldn’t dare confess to you as long as I’m alive. She’s overcome with remorse and inadequacy toward others around me. It is not my place to step in.’
Ophelia’s voice was scratchy.
‘It might not be smooth sailing even after I’m gone, but it’ll be better than when I was alive.’
‘Ophelia…’
‘Don’t react only to be polite. It’s exhausting.’
Ophelia’s frog croaked loudly in her grasp.
The air was filled with the distant sound of cicadas.
Cicadas irritated Ophelia.
She despised summers filled with their buzzing, despising those insects that had spent over 10 years underground only to emerge, shine briefly, and then die.
Their fate, which shone brightly for a season before fading, reminded her of her own.
The frog fell to the ground.
Ophelia cupped her palm around her chin.
‘To be honest, I’m still debating what to do. I’m envious, you know.’
‘…’
‘Even though I have the key, I cannot open the treasure chest. It isn’t mine. That is extremely frustrating.’
Ophelia chuckled, but it was a harsh laugh rather than a regretful one.
It seemed as if a goddess despised people, one who smiled serenely even after inflicting floods, earthquakes, and droughts that annihilated living beings.
‘I guess you’re right, brother. The key is in my possession, but it is not mine. And whether I open the box or not, I’m doomed. I even know who owns the box. So, what do you recommend I do? Should I keep the key until I die so that no one else can unlock it? Or bury it in the wilderness where no one can find it?’
Knowing Ophelia, Raretis doubted she would hand the key and the box to their proper owner.
She’s more likely to mock the careless owner and ruin it.
‘…’
‘The gods have a strange sense of humor. How could they do such a thing to me? Are they asking me to make a decision? Do you want to believe in an uncertain hope, or do you want me to destroy everything?’
Ophelia chuckled faintly, her emotions smearing across her face like ink on water, unfathomable in words.
‘You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?’
‘…’
‘I wish I didn’t, too. Caring for someone is more difficult than I anticipated.’
‘…’
‘But that doesn’t mean I want to give you everything. I’m an extremely greedy person.’
It is not my responsibility if the kingdom falls or not.
Ophelia’s voice was almost lyrical.
A butterfly with a fractured wing fought before collapsing.
‘Someday, you’ll face a dilemma like mine.’
It was a prophecy, but not in the usual sense.
As a child, Raretis saw Ophelia as a comrade rather than a friend or fiancée.
The adults’ arrangements had created a tepid bond between them.
Even though the engagement had yet to be confirmed, Raretis was forced to take on a new position.
Raretis’ mother developed a one-sided hatred toward him after suffering from severe postpartum depression following his birth.
It was an overwhelming dislike, almost like she considered her son an enemy.
That animosity became stronger as Raretis matured and outperformed his sibling in every way.
When his father discovered injuries on his quiet second son, he sought a ‘legal’ way to take him away.
Raretis’ brother sided with their mother, who only favored him.
Raretis excelled at swordsmanship, outperforming both his brother and father.
However, his father preferred a calm family life to protect his talented son.
The father believed that eliminating the second son could create the illusion of a harmonious household, preferring to remove the problem rather than tackle it.
They thought the Windrose couple were friendly people, and Ophelia was stunning.
Being with them was a better option than being here.
Raretis only nodded as he listened to all of these convincing comments.
They said that being a lousy child was unacceptable.
They said that being a nice and mature child will eventually lead to his mother forgiving him.
This was something Raretis never got.
What sin did he need to be forgiven for?
His mother despised him no matter what he did.
Was it his fault he wasn’t born as the eldest son?
While the Windrose family was said to treat him as their son, Raretis understood the reality.
Even his ‘real’ family had deserted him, and failing here meant he’d be left nowhere to go.
Marchioness Windrose took excellent care of him, stating she wished she had a son like him.
Looking into her gentle eyes, Raretis felt grateful.
A responsibility he would have to return one day.
He had an obligation to Ophelia as long as he was with the Marquis’s family.
Every act of kindness had a cost.
Failure to realize his ‘mission’ would result in him being dumped once more.
Raretis has never seen someone more lovely than Ophelia.
Yet, looking at him with her vacuous, glass-like eyes, she appeared out of place.
She laughed and became enraged like other kids her age, but that was it.
Ophelia’s gaze into the nothingness was occasionally unnerving, with deep eyes that could not discern light from darkness.
But he was aware of it.
Neither could they ‘naturally’ understand human kindness, hate, or emotions.
To them, the concept of unconditional love was practically inconceivable.
According to Ophelia, human emotions are like food that always causes difficulties when ingested.
Even her biological parents’ love repulsed her.
The presence of a boy who did not breach the line with his apathetic demeanor was tolerable to her.
Their relationship wasn’t horrible because neither expected anything from the other.
When Ophelia’s actions deviated too far from traditional norms, Raretis would step in, and she primarily listened to him.
Others thought their link was stronger than anybody else’s after watching Ophelia heed Raretis’ comments.
Raretis was a kind and hardworking young man.
He didn’t care whether he received hostility or friendliness from others, but he needed a place to belong.
Even if the gesture wasn’t genuine, it was worth collecting.
He might have ended himself somewhere worse than the Windrose estate if he had misbehaved and lacked talent.
That’s why Emilia’s appearance piqued his interest.
Such strong and unrestrained feelings were unfamiliar to him.
Yes, she was rebellious despite the fact that she had no ‘trusted corner’.
She swore, clenched her teeth, and charged.
Why?
Wasn’t she terrified about being left behind?
Wasn’t she afraid of losing her position?
Emilia, who was sold for money, would scream if she was called a child sold for money.
Ophelia first loathed Emilia, telling Raretis that she would end up groveling.
She was, however, mistaken.
“You wouldn’t say such nonsense if your parents had raised you well. Is it a privilege to die? Don’t other people die? There are children your age that are starving!”
Emilia screamed fiercely and hurled words that others would never dare to voice in front of Ophelia.
She was unbreakable, no matter how much she was battered or starved.
Yes, kindness was what calmed Emilia’s wildness.
It started when her nanny, Odile, and a maid her age, Dorothy, started talking to her, and she uncomfortably reacted.
Even when arguing vehemently, Ophelia’s admonition to eat because she didn’t want Emilia to faint from hunger struck a chord.
Her lovely black eyes captivated him.
They stood out from the crowd like a well-polished, spherical, and black jewel.
The eyes of a little girl, their depth like venom.
Was it avarice?
Could that be described as greed?
Her eyes merely reflected what others were doing.
Despite her tremendous emotions and outbursts at others, her gaze remained fixed.
Raretis was intrigued by those eyes.
Could someone like him, who was only vaguely aware of other people’s feelings, change if he had such eyes?
When she looked at him, her eyes would gleam differently.
They appeared to be the end of a rainbow, cut off and sugar-coated, ready to burst into flame with a glimpse.
Despite this, whenever Raretis reached out, she would reject him like a wary wildcat.
She appeared desirous but ultimately turned away.
He didn’t realize how empty he felt with each rejection.
Raretis expected Emilia, like everyone else who had expectations of him, to demand something from him finally.
She would make unreasonable demands and be disappointed if they were not met.
Even if Emilia made demands, he couldn’t meet them.
He had been promised to Ophelia.
It was a hopeless situation.
He’d have to say no.
He pondered this casually.
What would become of their eyes?
Would they finally vanish?
He began to regret the prospect of losing them.
But such a scenario never occurred.
