2.
To recall my first meeting with Lancelot, I must travel ten years into the past.
The year I had just turned fourteen.
It was late spring, in the midst of that year’s unusually early summer monsoon.
Anita had followed her father to attend the grandest banquet of her life.
“Anita. There are many frightening and dangerous people here. You must be extremely careful with your conduct today.”
“Yes.”
In all her life, she had never seen such a magnificent mansion or a ballroom so dazzlingly radiant.
The mansions she had visited with her father until now were either far more modest than their own home, or if the grounds were vast, they usually showed clear signs of age and neglect.
Yet, didn’t this place look like the prince’s castle from a fairy tale?
Unable to suppress her curiosity, Anita asked her father.
“Is this the palace of His Majesty the King?”
“The palace? No. This is the Edenbahir estate. We have been invited to the birthday banquet of the Duke of Edenbahir.”
“I’ve never seen a house nicer than ours.”
Her father quietly rebuked Anita.
“You mustn’t say such things. You must always remain humble, Anita. Especially in front of the people here.”
“Why?”
“The nobles here despise those of us who have wealth without a title. It is a foolish thing.”
Her father always spoke the truth. Though it was a difficult piece of advice, it was clearly meant as a warning to be cautious.
She resolved that she would not do anything to ‘give them cause for reproach,’ as he always said.
The banquet was noisy and boring.
A long time had passed, yet the adults still seemed to have plenty to say. Having hovered by her father’s side the entire time, Anita was eventually ushered into a large room with other children of her age.
It was just as Anita entered the room, looking up at the ceiling mural packed with multicolored paints.
“You’re not allowed.”
Suddenly, a stern voice brooking no exceptions blocked her path.
“My mother said I shouldn’t associate with you. So, you go back.”
Anita blinked, dazed.
Then, she hurriedly looked down at her clothes. Far from being dirty, they were impeccable, without a single wrinkle.
What did it mean to not associate?
Catching her breath, she calmly asked back.
“D-did I do something wrong? If I made a mistake, I apologize. It wasn’t intentional.”
She thought it had been a polite question. The girl suddenly burst into shrill laughter.
“Look at her. She says she’ll apologize to us!”
*Hahaha.* At that shout, the children encircling Anita began to laugh along.
It was clear mockery.
“Is she stupid? Does she think our family’s status will rise if she apologizes?”
“My mother said that. She said we shouldn’t associate with people who sell their dignity for money.”
“That’s right, that’s right. My grandmother said her father is a sewer rat wearing a gold necklace he has no business owning!”
Anita’s heart began to pound.
*‘A sewer rat. My father is a sewer rat…’*
She hadn’t committed any crime, yet her shoulders shrank inward. She wanted to run far away from the malicious gazes that pricked at her cheeks like needles.
My father is not a sewer rat. He is a more wonderful, intelligent, and splendid adult than anyone else….
Taking a step forward, the girl pushed Anita’s shoulder with a face full of excitement.
“Your father is a mongrel with no dignity, no standing, and no pedigree. Since it’s certain that the daughter of a mongrel is also a mongrel, it’s best to keep your distance so we don’t get tainted. Do you understand now?”
Yes, she understood, albeit too late.
The fact that an invisible line was drawn between the girl and Anita.
A clear red line distinguishing those of noble blood from those who were not.
But Anita could not accept that line.
Especially not if it were drawn to mock her father.
“W-we….”
I cannot accept it. He is not a person to be treated that way by you. Clenching her trembling hands into fists, she gathered the courage to deny it.
“My father is n-not a mongrel.”
S-she said it.
Now, they would know that the unpleasant word ‘mongrel’ was the wrong term, right?
“…Pfft.”
The girl threw her head back and laughed loudly, exposing her throat.
Her breath hitched with bewilderment. What was this? Did she say something wrong? Was her voice too quiet?
Soon after, the sound that followed made Anita’s face turn bright red.
“M-my father is n-not a m-mongrel!”
The children had begun to mimic her.
“Wrong! My father is a m-m-mongrel, n-not! That’s how it goes.”
“You have to make a stupider face when you say it.”
It was humiliating.
She wanted to run away to a place where no one was.
“She must be a stutterer. A mongrel who stutters, how pitiful.”
But her legs were frozen, stiff as if they had turned to ice. Even though her heart was pounding as if it would burst, her legs wouldn’t budge an inch.
All Anita could do was hang her head low to hide a face that had turned as red as a tomato.
I am not a stutterer.
This is just, just….
*‘It’s because I’m flustered, I’m just flustered.’*
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Look at her! She’s crying!”
*Hahaha.* The girl who had been laughing joyfully pushed Anita’s forehead with two fingers.
The girl wore a bright, innocent smile as she warned Anita.
“If you heard me, then get lost. If you ever try to act like you know us in the future, you’ll be sorry. Well, if you’re bored, go play with the maids who match your level.”
Several of the children who had been circling her walked past, poking her head and arms with each step.
After they swarmed into the room, she was the only one left standing in the corridor.
*‘…Ah.’*
As the last boy shoved Anita, her body collapsed helplessly to the floor.
*Creeeak.*
The door before Anita slowly closed. The pale face visible through the gap was clearly filled with mockery.
“Goodbye, mongrel.”
*Thud.*
The door closed.
Even the last sliver of light vanished, and the sounds of the children’s joyful laughter faded beyond the ringing in her ears.
Anita was left alone in the cold hallway where only silence remained. Her shoulder, where she had been shoved, and her knees, which had struck the floor, were stinging.
What hurt more than that, however, was herself—terrified and unable to even offer a proper rebuttal in front of those who had ridiculed her father.
“Ugh….”
It felt as though heated desert sand was being poured into her chest and throat.
However, she could not sit there for long. The sound of footsteps was approaching from the nearby stairs.
She scrambled up as if burnt and ran away as if fleeing.
Anita ran and ran, putting as much distance as possible between herself and that room.
The mansion was high and wide, even as she ran until she was out of breath. *Thank goodness.* If she came this far, she wouldn’t be found by her father.
Yet, as her father’s face came to mind, her nose stung once again.
*‘No, if I cry… if the sound of my crying is heard, my father might hear….’*
With her lips twisted, she pushed the nearest door. Unlike the other rooms, this room felt cold, devoid of any warmth.
That was why she felt even more sorrowful and, at the same time, relieved.
Enough that the tears which had been welling up in trickles began to stream down her cheeks.
“*Hic.*”
Anita leaned against the door and sat down, burying her face in her knees.
“*Sob.*”
I want to go home.
“*Hic. Sob….*”
As she thought of her warm home, the tears that had been gathered at the tips of her eyelashes began to fall in drops.
“*Sniff.*”
I really want to go home.
I want to go home, to my nanny, to my Mary, and my Berry, and….
“You’re noisy.”
At that moment, Anita’s sobbing stopped abruptly.
It was a voice that could only be described as sudden. Anita jumped to her feet and scanned her surroundings.
*‘Who just said I was noisy….’*
What is this? A, a ghost?
Just after goosebumps rose along her arms, the strange voice spoke again from not far away.
“Don’t cry in the library. You’re in the way.”
The library?
She looked around, dazed.
He was right. She had been too preoccupied with crying to notice, but the space she had stumbled into was not a simple room, but a vast library.
Spines of books, neatly organized shelf by shelf, sat everywhere. The books, lined up along a ladder all the way to the ceiling, looked immaculate, without a speck of dust.
Anita rolled her reddened eyes, filled with awe.
*‘It’s huge.’*
Then, with a look of realization, she asked toward the voice.
“T-then where can I cry?”
Following that, a cool voice replied.
“Do I look like I care?”