'What was that very first meeting like?'
Callius had finally managed to sneak into the Arrental Palace after days of travel, only to find himself utterly lost in its sprawling halls—the palace was incomparably larger than Ronheim Castle.
After wandering aimlessly for what felt like hours, he happened upon a little girl.
When they first met, the girl approached him with pure curiosity rather than alarm, despite Callius's dirty, disheveled appearance.
She shared food with the hungry boy and peppered him with innocent questions: why he was dressed so strangely, what kind of bracelet he wore on his arm, whether the sword at his waist was real.
Judging by her excitement, the girl seemed thrilled to meet a child her own age for the first time in what must have been a very long while.
He couldn't simply reject a child who approached with such pure curiosity, so he indulged her with brief answers. What he intended as a short conversation somehow stretched on and on, filled with trivial chatter.
Just as he realized this and was thinking about ending the conversation, the girl asked him:
"But what is your name?"
"I'm asking quickly because I... Callius."
The moment he spoke his name, a strong gust of wind blew through the corridor.
The girl tilted her head as if she hadn't heard properly, brushing her windswept hair behind her ear.
"Karl... what?"
"If you didn't hear, then it doesn't matter. I'm leaving. I don't have time to play with you."
"Where are you going?"
"You don't need to know."
"Aren't you going to ask my name?"
"...What is your name?"
"Chloe. Do you want to come with me?"
"Don't follow me!"
And so he left the girl behind and continued wandering the palace for several more hours.
Then, purely by chance, he caught sight of the Empress herself passing through a distant corridor. Without thinking, blinded by rage, his hand flew to his sword—
"Don't do that!"
Someone grabbed him and yanked him backward, dragging him through what felt like solid wall.
When he came to his senses, he found himself in a strange, narrow passageway—and the same girl from earlier was suddenly there, whispering urgently about secrets and hidden paths.
The girl suddenly wrapped her arms around him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides so he couldn't move, and whispered:
"I wish you hadn't done that."
"Why?"
"Because I'm scared. If you swing that sword, the guards will arrest you. I don't want to lose you."
"...Why?"
"Because we're friends."
They'd known each other for barely half a day, and already she considered them friends. She was truly a strange child.
"You are my only friend. I'm afraid of losing you."
The child clung to him so tenaciously that Callius's heart—which had been burning with rage toward the Empress—gradually cooled, and all the strength drained from his body.
He had embarked on a perilous journey from Ronheim to Arrental, even risking his own life, determined to seek revenge for his mother's death.
After enduring so much hardship, he had finally managed to infiltrate the Arrental Palace and witness the Empress right before his eyes.
But that girl had ruined everything.
Yet Callius didn't resent her. In fact, he felt... relieved.
He had been so blinded by anger that he'd gone as far as sneaking into the palace, but when he actually raised his sword to strike the Empress, fear had finally crashed over him.
At the time, he was a twelve-year-old boy who had left his homeland with a vow of vengeance—but he was also bewildered by how quickly everything was escalating beyond his control.
The girl had stopped him because he couldn't stop himself. He thought he had come so far that he couldn't turn back now.
"...So how do we get out of here? It's too dark and damp. Let's just leave."
"Okay!"
That day, the girl—who was as cute and delicate as a fairy—embraced the grieving Callius with surprising strength.
With the girl's help, Callius hid in the palace for several days, eating and drinking in secret.
Thanks to her, he was able to recover enough strength to eventually return safely to his homeland in Ronheim.
'If Chloe hadn't stopped me that day, I wouldn't exist in this world anymore.'
Even though he was young, it had been an incredibly reckless and foolish thing to do.
Callius firmly believed that the Chloe from that day had been an angel sent from God to save him.
And when he met Chloe again years later—as his bride—he thought she must have been an angel sent by God to save Ronheim itself.
He smiled bitterly.
'You said I was your only friend. But you don't even remember me.'
It didn't matter, though.
Because I remember everything.
A few days later, Granada discovered a wandering merchant loitering near the castle entrance.
The merchant—who had never been summoned—was carrying a large bundle and lingering suspiciously by the gates. Granada quickly brought him inside before the guards grew too suspicious.
"Hehe, thank goodness you found me! I wouldn't have wanted to wait outside much longer. The soldiers would never have let me in on my own."
"Of course not. It's impossible to enter the castle without permission. You're fortunate you weren't thrown out."
"Yes, yes, that's right. Absolutely right."
The merchant bowed very low—so low that his face was barely visible beneath the enormous bundle on his back.
Granada asked with a stern expression that suggested not a drop of sympathy would be found even if one pricked her with a needle:
"So what brings you here?"
"Didn't you pay me far more than I deserved last time? I promised you then that if I ever came across something good again, I'd bring it to the Marchioness right away. Do you remember?"
"I remember. However, the Marchioness is not receiving visitors today. Please come again another time."
"What?"
The merchant looked up at Granada with an expression of genuine bewilderment.
The bundle on his back was so large for his small frame that he had to bend over awkwardly, making his face appear far below Granada's line of sight.
The merchant seemed oddly flustered.
"Well, if you could just tell the Marchioness once that I'm here..."
"Come back next time."
Granada refused flatly.
The merchant, who had been standing there aimlessly without knowing why he was being refused, suddenly seemed to struggle with standing upright.
Granada was about to scold him more sharply when she noticed that the merchant's face had turned alarmingly pale.
"Are you all right? Your complexion doesn't look good."
"Oh, oh. I... I seem to be exhausted from running to Ronheim since before dawn. I'm... I'm sorry, but if you don't mind, could I just have a quick cup of tea before I go? I'll rest for only a moment."
The merchant begged earnestly.
Granada, unable to ruthlessly drive out a merchant who wasn't a complete stranger and who had dealt fairly with them several times before, eventually allowed him to rest briefly.
"I trust you know this already, but you're not allowed to take a single step up those stairs. You know how to get to the kitchen from here, correct?"
"Yes, yes! Of course! I know!"
"If you wander onto a different path and the guards grow suspicious, I won't help you."
"Don't worry! I won't do anything foolish! Of course not! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
The merchant—who had dealt with the kitchen maids several times before and knew the route well—quickly headed in that direction.
He remembered Granada's threat and didn't dare turn onto any side paths. However, he walked unusually slowly, his eyes darting around furiously as if searching for someone specific.
The merchant, distracted by his furtive searching, didn't notice when he rounded a corner—
—and bumped directly into Vanessa.
"Oh my!"
With a single sharp cry, the merchant staggered backward, lost his balance due to the massive bundle on his back, and fell to the stone floor with a heavy crash.
Crash!
The bundle—larger than his entire body—hit the floor with a thunderous noise. It was painfully obvious that several items inside had broken and shattered.
"Good heavens!"
Vanessa jumped back, then glared down at the merchant with thinly veiled disgust.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
The merchant bowed his head in frantic apology.
Vanessa glared at him, brushing off her sleeve as if the place where they'd collided was now contaminated.
"Watch where you're walking!"
She snapped sharply and was about to storm past the merchant when something among the scattered items caught her eye.
"Wait a moment."
What Vanessa picked up was a crumpled piece of paper with a portrait sketched onto it.
"What is this?"
It was a wanted poster.
"Ah... please... give it back..."
"Where are you putting those dirty hands? I said I want to take a look!"
Vanessa swatted away the merchant's reaching hand in irritation and continued studying the wanted poster without paying him any attention.
Her head tilted slightly to one side.
"This person..."
Vanessa's eyes widened as she stared at the drawing for a long, tense moment.
"I've seen you somewhere before!"
Vanessa's voice rang out sharply, her eyes gleaming like a hyena that had just spotted easy prey.
"I'm taking this!"
After snatching the wanted poster from the merchant's trembling hands, she whirled around and ran off, her skirts billowing behind her like storm clouds.
"Wait! Wait just a moment!"
The merchant's pitiful voice echoed uselessly through the empty hallway.
But Vanessa was already gone—racing toward someone who would be very, very interested in what she'd just discovered.
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