A Promise Made in the Falling Snow
“Waaah! Waaah! Waaaaah!”
A white-haired little boy burst into tears.
Three neighborhood kids circled him, sticking out their tongues and jeering.
“Raheim's the only one with skin that's black! Blaaack!”
“It's black because his mom's black!”
“Weird! Raheim is weird!”
The boy called Raheim shouted back, fat tears dropping like chicken droppings down his cheeks.
“It's not true! I'm not weird!”
“Raheim's skin is black!”
“But his hair is white! It's backwards! It's so wei—”
Tat-tat!
Just then, someone came sprinting toward the scene of the bullying.
“You little punks, making fun of someone over that!”
Smack!
“That's weird! You idiots, you stupid dumb-dumb poop-heads!”
The one who appeared out of nowhere and started kicking the kids in the knees was a little girl their own age.
A girl with beautiful sky-blue hair and pale skin, like the snow drifting down around her.
“Roha hit me!”
“Who even are you?!”
All three kids piled on, but they couldn't do a thing against that one ferocious little hellion. She flailed her arms wildly and kicked their knees bloody raw.
The kids fled in utter panic.
“Don't you dare mess with me! All of you!”
She hurled a whole catalog of curses at the backs of their fleeing heads, then turned around.
There sat Raheim, still frozen in a daze.
“Quit blubbering! Stop. Right. Now. Stop!”
“……”
Intimidated by her, Raheim snapped his crying shut at once.
Pleased at how obediently he followed orders, the girl wore a satisfied expression.
“You're Raheim, right? Son of the Castellan of Snowfield Castle.”
She held out her hand. Raheim just stared at it, wide-eyed and frightened.
“My name is Meilyn Villenne. I'm the official heir of the Ivory Tower, and when I grow up, I'm going to be the Tower Master!”
Raheim remembered hearing that the Ivory Tower people would be visiting Snowfield Castle today. His father had already given orders for him to stay tucked away somewhere quiet until then.
He answered timidly.
“Uh, yeah. But I'm not really the son……”
“If your dad's the Castellan, then you're the son. What are you talking about?”
“I can't even become Castellan.”
“So what if you can't! You just play hard and stay strong!”
“My skin is black, too.”
“Ugh, you're so annoying!”
She kicked Raheim in the knee, too.
Raheim shrieled, grabbed his knee, and hopped around like roosters squabbling in a barnyard.
“None of that weak talk—just come on! Your parents and my parents are all waiting.”
Meilyn grabbed Raheim's hand and dragged him along. He spoke up in a fluster.
“I! I can't go!”
“Why not? You're the Castellan's son, aren't you?”
“I…….”
Raheim hung his head low.
“Because I'm the son my dad wants to hide.”
“……”
“My older brother is the one who becomes Castellan, not me.”
Meilyn let go of his hand, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye.
Even bending down with her hands on her knees, Meilyn was still the taller one. Raheim fidgeted with his hands, a frightened look on his face.
“My dad told me something once. Told me never to let my guard down.”
“A-about what?”
“That even though I'm the official heir, I only got the position because the Tower Master has no children of her own. That anyone could be my rival, and anyone could steal my place from me. So I must never be careless, and I have to be better than everyone else.”
She clenched her tiny, fern-leaf fist tight.
“I'm going to be the Tower Master. So I will never—absolutely never—let my guard down!”
“……”
Raheim's pupils trembled.
“It's the same for you. Who your dad likes, what color your skin is—none of that matters. You could become the Castellan of Snowfield Castle too.”
“……M-Meilyn.”
“So come on, let's go.”
Meilyn smiled brightly and took Raheim's hand, pulling him to his feet.
“You keep challenging, without ever stopping. And I'll keep watching over you. And then one day, when we're grown—you'll become the Castellan, and I'll become the Tower Master.”
“……”
She raised the hand opposite the one holding his.
“Promise?”
If I go into the castle now, it'll be the first time I've ever defied my father.
My father called me a disgrace.
He's harsh with my mother, too.
I want to protect my mother.
How can I protect her?
If I become the Castellan.
If I become the highest person in this castle.
No one will be able to lay a hand on my mother, will they?
“Yeah.”
Raheim lifted his head and hooked his finger around Meilyn's pinky.
It was an afternoon when the snow came down in thick, blowing sheets.
Shhaaaaaaa.
“……”
Roused from his memory, Raheim lay back on the sunbed and lifted the lavish gold medal in his hand.
It was the ultimate symbol.
Raheim was no longer an unacknowledged son, nor a legitimate heir.
At some point, without anyone noticing, he had become the Castellan of Snowfield Castle.
I challenged endlessly, and I took the Castellan's seat for myself.
He let the medal fall and closed his eyes.
For now, his mother governed in his name as regent, but once he graduated from Kizen, it would be him who ruled Snowfield Castle.
But you couldn't protect it, could you.
He had heard long ago that the Ivory Tower's official heir had been changed to one 'Serne Aindark.'
And every year, the Ivory Tower was obliged to send one of its children—either seventeen years old, or close to it—to enroll at Kizen.
This year, the heir Serne Aindark had arrived as a Special Admission student. At that point, Raheim had set aside every thought of the matter and was simply drifting through school life, focusing on his own affairs.
But then Meilyn enrolled this year. Did she take the entrance exam on her own, outside the Ivory Tower's special admission system? Why?
If she had entered next year as a Special Admission student, she would have enjoyed every privilege, become the top female student of the first years, and perhaps even delivered the Student Oath herself.
Why she had enrolled this year remained a mystery.
No—none of that matters.
He could see her. He could spend three years here alongside her.
The reason he hadn't gone to see her until now was so he could stand tall before her. Now that he'd become Castellan and achieved his goal, there was nothing left to be ashamed of.
“Stop it, stop! Augh! Are you seriously hitting me?!”
“Stand still, you doomed little commoner! You are dead!”
At the commotion, Raheim's head turned.
……Meilyn!
A girl with sky-blue hair in a swimsuit was chasing a male student, flippers clutched in both hands.
“The blueprints I stayed up all night making are soaked because of yoooou!”
“Waaah!”
“Get back here right now! Or else?!”
It was certain. That sky-blue hair, those blue eyes, and even that violent temper.
Exactly as she'd looked back then…….
Pop!
Just then, Dick slipped neatly out from beside Raheim's sunbed, and Meilyn, sprinting after him, collided shoulder-first with the still-dazed Raheim and went sprawling.
“Owww! Come on.”
Wincing with one eye shut, Meilyn rubbed her shoulder and glared after Dick—who by then had fled a good distance away.
She ground her teeth once, then picked herself up. Then, with an apologetic look, she reached a hand out toward Raheim.
“Hey, I'm really, really sorry! You okay?”
At the sight of her bending down and offering her hand, a smile crept onto Raheim's lips.
That pose, that composition—it had been so long.
And was that collision just now on purpose, perhaps?
“I'm fine.”
Raheim took her hand and rose to his feet.
When they were little, Raheim had been much smaller—but now, as a young man, he stood a full head taller than her.
Blood rushed to his face.
While traces of her old self remained, Meilyn had grown into a beauty so radiant it was almost blinding. He extended his hand for a proper handshake this time, flashing his most impressive smile.
“This brings back memories. You've been well, I hope? Mei—”
But rendering his outstretched hand meaningless, Meilyn walked right past him.
“?”
Raheim turned to look behind him. Meilyn was once again chasing after that male student.
“This time I'm really not letting it go! Just you wait till I catch you! I'll take that head and—!”
Swish.
Turning his back, Raheim pressed his foot down on Jet-Black and shot forward in an instant, catching up to Meilyn.
“Didn't think we'd meet again like this.”
“Wah! You scared me!”
“Don't you have something to say to me?”
She, who had been chasing Dick, stopped in her tracks. Raheim stopped behind her.
“Like what. I already said sorry just now, didn't I?”
The moment her gaze and attention were fixed entirely on him, Raheim's spirits soared.
His voice lifted with excitement.
“Why didn't you come tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you'd enrolled at Kizen. I didn't know, but you would have known I was a Special Admission student, wouldn't you?”
She blinked a few times, then let out a scoffing “Ha.”
“Oh, really now? Must be nice, being a Special Admission student.”
Her hair swirling, she whipped around to leave.
But Raheim reappeared in front of her, blocking her path.
“Do you remember what happened between us ten years ago?”
Ugh, seriously, this guy!
Regret was already creeping in—she'd gone and bought a swimsuit for nothing, all dolled up for no reason. This was already the fourth pathetic advance she'd suffered today alone.
What she didn't know was that, at some point, Meilyn had become the most beautiful flower on this beach. Passersby couldn't help but steal a glance at her, every single one of them.
But Meilyn herself, interrupted at every turn no matter what she tried to do, was only piling up frustration.
“Hey.”
Meilyn said, flatly:
“What era did you dig that line out of? Do you have any idea how god-awful it is?”
“……Line?”
“Quit hitting on me and get lost.”
Having lost her quarry, Meilyn strode off toward the shade canopy where Camibarez was waiting.
Raheim rested his chin on his hand.
Is she pretending not to remember on purpose? Well, I suppose—I became Castellan, and she couldn't even hold on to her claim as heir. She must be embarrassed.
He let out a “Pffah!” of laughter.
She even has a cute side. She's growing on me more and more.
“Raheim!”
Just then, a friend from his squad came running up, out of breath.
“What are you doing here? We're supposed to supervise the first-years' training this afternoon!”
“The schedule changed. Tell them to handle it themselves.”
Raheim answered with a dismissive air and flicked his hand.
“Oh, right. And tell Beldina I'm breaking up with her.”
His squadmate's jaw dropped open.
“Wh-what? Just like that, out of nowhere?”
“Yep. Don't need her. She was only after me because I'm the Castellan of Snowfield Castle anyway.”
Removing his white hat, Raheim swept his hair back with one smooth motion, then set the hat back on at a rakish angle.
“From now on, I'm going to find true love.”
“R-Raheim!”
Watching Raheim's figure quickly shrink into the distance, his squadmate hastily withdrew his outstretched hand and scratched his head.
That trash-hearted son of a—. The good-looking, successful ones always live up to their faces.
Once the news got delivered, Beldina would probably sob her eyes out all day.
Deciding that today's training was a lost cause, the squadmate turned his back and walked away.
Raheim was relentless in his pursuit of Meilyn.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“You seriously don't remember? You're just pretending, aren't you?”
“Which class are you in? Starting tomorrow, I'll come pick you up.”
Meilyn's head was starting to throb.
Even after she'd told him she wasn't interested, this guy Raheim kept clinging on.
And when he smugly winked at her like he was God's gift, she was seized by the urge to pluck his eyes right out, let him watch himself make a fool of him, and stuff them back in.
Still, experience had taught her that the answer in these situations was to ignore them completely. Give them any attention—irritation or fury or otherwise—and they only got worse.
“Is this because you couldn't become the heir?”
But then.
“Ah, don't worry about that. I'll pull some strings with the Ivory Tower and put in a good word for you—aggressively.”
Every person had a line that must never be crossed.
KWAKWAKWAKWAKWAKWA!
Ice spikes shot up jagged and bristling all around Meilyn.
Raheim threw himself aside, dodging them.
“Didn't I tell you.”
Fury rippled in her eyes.
“To shut your mouth?”
“Hmm.”
Raheim brought a finger to his cheek. Blood was trickling down it. He caught the drop on his fingertip, licked it with his tongue, and grinned.
“Yeah, now this is fun.”
This time, pitch-black Jet-Black began to pour out of Raheim's body.
“You're the one who attacked first?”
His body vanished in a flash of radiance.
Meilyn thrust her arm out and instantly raised a wall of ice head-on—but Raheim appeared with leisurely ease behind her back.
“Haha! Got—”
BWAAAAAAANG!
Something had wedged itself between the two of them out of nowhere, and Raheim yelped, throwing his hand up in front of his own chin.
The sole of a shoe rising along its arc stopped just a hair's breadth short of his face, and the sand around them erupted upward like a fountain.
“Hmm.”
Raheim, who had caught the kick, felt his hand tremble ever so slightly.
“Who the hell are you?”
A boy stood before him in a kicking stance—a basket balanced on his head, a shade-canopy pole in one arm, and tongs and a frying pan in the other.
“Simon!!”
Meilyn's face lit up.
Then Simon kicked off the ground with a burst of force, launching everything on his head and in his hands into the air at once as his body spun in a full rotation. Withdrawing the kicking leg, he drove his other heel straight into the elbow of Raheim's raised guard.
CRACK!
Raheim's body skidded backward, while Simon leisurely reset his stance and spread his arms wide.
All the airborne items landed neatly back in place on his arms and head.
“You okay, Meilyn?”