3.
That… well, it’s none of your business, but….
I sat back down, clutching my legs to my chest once again.
Although he was prickly, his voice was truly beautiful. It was enough to help Anita regain her composure, and more than enough to make her forget the melancholy weight that had been crushing her heart.
‘Is he a book fairy?’
Or a dwarf? Do all dwarfs have such beautiful voices?
I was stroking my ticklish nose against the chilling air when—
*Creak.* Along with the sound of a chair shifting, steady footsteps drew nearer. As the sound grew louder, the yellow light that had been pooling in the distance gradually expanded.
The source of the light was a lantern held by a boy.
A blonde boy wearing a thick cardigan.
His skin was as white as an untouched, snowy field. He had green eyes, and he stood shorter than Anita. Even his expression was dripping with annoyance.
‘He’s so pretty, I thought he was a doll.’
I even wondered if he was a girl, but he was definitely a boy.
A small, white, pretty boy who looked like a girl.
Certain of his identity, Anita stood up in surprise.
“Fa, fairy-nim!”
The brow that was already deeply furrowed twisted even more intensely.
“Hey.”
The boy clicked his tongue with a look of extreme displeasure.
“Stop sniffing your nose, too.”
Unlike his appearance, which brought warm milk to mind, his jab was as biting as a cold wind.
The unexpectedly icy attitude for a first meeting made Anita snap to her senses.
‘…Is he not a fairy?’
I suppose not.
Right, how could such a thing exist in this world? It was only natural that he wasn’t a fairy!
The shame of having done something so foolish made her face burn as if it were on fire. It was a distinctly different emotion from the shame she felt when standing in front of the other children.
Back then, she had wanted to run away; now, she wanted to hide.
“If you aren’t going to read a book, get out.”
The back he showed her as he delivered his final warning was just as chilly as his front.
As the light illuminating the boy’s face moved away, the silent shadows of the library enveloped Anita. It was darkness she had thought nothing of before meeting him, but now, it felt strangely cold and vast.
‘Because a library is a place meant for reading.’
It wasn’t right to disturb the boy.
But if she left, she had nowhere to go.
Father was busy, and all the children ostracized her, so the only place that would accept Anita would be a room without a human presence.
A room cold because no fire was lit.
A room silent and quiet because there was no one else.
‘…If I read a book, wouldn’t I be allowed to stay here?’
The contemplation didn’t last long.
Anita immediately ran to the nearest bookshelf and grabbed the first book she found. Then, she cautiously approached the desk where the boy had settled.
She sat down as far away as possible, but because she was now also far from the only lantern the boy had brought, it was hardly an environment for reading.
What do I do? What do I do?
This internal struggle lasted quite a while. When she finally gathered the courage to sit opposite the boy, she was met with a fierce glare.
“I, I’m going to read too.”
The words came out as an excuse before she could stop them.
Fortunately, the boy’s gaze soon withdrew back to his book. Anita let out a sigh of relief and opened her own volume.
She had opened it, all right.
‘Oh, no.’
Of all things, she had chosen a foreign language volume.
‘So that’s why he glared at me.’
Again. She had done something else to make her face burn.
Anita sat blankly, staring at the first page of the original text.
Then, suddenly, the letters in the book the boy was reading caught her eye. Another foreign volume, densely packed with text.
‘Quills? That’s a language I can read a little bit.’
Perhaps because she had been focusing without realizing it, she found herself squinting, trying to follow along with the boy’s book.
It was too difficult.
It was so difficult, yet so curious, that after holding back and holding back, she finally opened her mouth.
“Say… how do you read the last line of the third paragraph on page 21?”
No answer came.
She sat dejectedly for a moment before focusing again. The more she looked, the more she was filled with admiration for the sentences that were so impossible to decipher.
“How are you able to read such difficult things?”
Again, there was no reply.
It was a strange thing. Instead of discouraging her, the silence only gave her courage, and her mouth kept opening.
“Hey, this word. I’m confused, is it ‘cooperation’ or ‘surrender’…”
That was when it happened.
The boy abruptly stood up and disappeared between the bookshelves, only to reappear shortly after.
He was holding a book that was at least twice as thick as the one he had been reading.
Anita’s complexion paled.
‘Is, is he going to hit me with that book? Was I that annoying?’
*Thud.* The boy dropped the paper weapon in front of Anita.
“If you don’t know, shut your mouth and read that.”
This? She swallowed a dry lump in her throat and checked the title.
He must have found her questions too bothersome. Anita cautiously hugged the dictionary the boy had handed her.
“Thank you.”
“And don’t keep talking to me. It’s annoying.”
Okay….
She sat quietly and buried her nose in the dictionary he had recommended.
There was no way the contents of the book could truly sink in. After looking up the original meanings of the words she had been confused about, she couldn’t overcome her boredom and kept nodding off, only to wake up again.
‘This won’t do. It’s late, so I should return to Father.’
But this dictionary is good.
The dictionary back home was written in difficult terms that were hard to understand, but in this one, she didn’t need to look up the meanings of other words just to understand the definition of a single word.
“This…”
So, can I borrow this? She wanted to ask, but—
[Don’t keep talking to me. It’s annoying.]
She couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth against that sharp warning.
“This…”
Bu, but I really wanted to ask.
“Th, this…”
“What.”
Just in time, the boy, looking fed up, turned toward her.
How annoying must I be to him right now! He probably doesn’t even want to see my face, right? When she imagined swapping places, guilt stirred within her.
Anita whispered in the smallest voice she could manage.
“Can I borrow this?”
“And how exactly do you intend to carry that?”
“I can carry it.”
“You can’t.”
It was such a firm negation that she was left bewildered.
“I, I can carry it!”
“You can’t.”
“I told you I can! I can carry it!”
Proclaiming this boldly, she hugged the Great Dictionary of Quills to her chest.
*Hup.* It was incredibly heavy.
“See? I can carry it, right?”
It was far heavier than she had imagined, making it difficult to breathe, but she felt she could at least carry it downstairs.
The boy scanned Anita with a dissatisfied look before turning back to his book.
“If you don’t return it within a month, know that I’ll report you for theft.”
It was a dismissal. But Anita couldn’t move her feet; instead, she stood awkwardly, asking,
“Um… aren’t you going to ask my name?”
Because he turned his head with a look that asked what she was plotting, she stated the reason as if it were an excuse.
“You need to know my name to report me, right? I’m Anita Boellony.”
She had thought he might ignore her, but the boy surprisingly stated his own name with a light shrug.
“Lancelot Edenbahir.”
Ah.
‘Edenbahir… So he was the child who lived in this house.’
If she thought about it deeply, it wasn’t surprising.
Only the master of the house would be able to wander through such a library in comfortable loungewear as if it were his own home.
Anita left the library, feeling hesitant. She debated whether to say goodbye, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
A night where even the moon was hidden behind clouds, becoming truly complete.
Anita took her father’s hand and climbed into the carriage to head home.
Her father, who was always dignified whenever and wherever. Her father, who still had clear eyes even while reeking of the stench of alcohol, stroked her hair.
“Did you get along well with your friends?”
No.
“Yes.”
“Was it fun?”
No.
“Yes. It was lovely.”
“You will have many chances to meet them in the future. Don’t act so strange; try to get along well.”
The mood that had improved slightly at the thought of returning home plummeted into melancholy in an instant.
I don’t want to meet them again.
They ostracize me even when I’m not acting strange.
In that grand mansion, there was only one child who didn’t ostracize Anita.
‘That child would despise me too if they knew I wasn’t a noble.’
Thinking that, her mood plunged to the very depths of the earth.
‘It’s okay. I have Father, the nanny, Mary, and Berry.’
It really is okay. I don’t need anyone else. I’m happy enough as I am right now.
Anita let out a long sigh.