From Awkward Silences to Winter Island Dreams
“Kalen...?”
“Yes.”
“Kalen...”
The conversation stalled. Kalen suddenly remembered just how sociable Sinat was. An introverted personality facing one even more introverted. It had taken quite some time just to exchange names.
In truth, it was a welcome relief for the naturally taciturn Kalen. But as her bodyguard, it wasn't an ideal situation. Among the assignments from Head Maid Rusty, the top priority was 'get close to Eliana'.
The journey north would be no easy trip. Kalen imagined the stifling silence with not a word exchanged the whole way and scratched the back of his head.
“Don't you have any questions?”
“...”
“...Like, why are you here, or something.”
“...Why are you here...?”
It ended up like this. She parroted his words exactly, but tacked on polite honorifics, birthing that awkward sentence.
“Ah.”
“...?”
“Let's drop the formal speech first.”
“Why...?”
“We're the same age.”
Kalen was fifteen this year. He'd heard Eliana's age from Everchan Rakatus, so the two were the same. Wasn't it strange for peers to use formal speech at every turn? It was one of the few topics Kalen could use to steer the conversation.
“You use formal speech too...”
“That's because of my position. If I spoke casually to the lady of House Rakatus, that would be the strange thing.”
“...”
If he'd been introduced from the start as Blamia's disciple, it might have been different. But right now, he was just a commoner servant. To avoid getting tangled in troublesome affairs, it was unavoidable.
“...Can we take it slow...?”
Kalen nodded, meaning she could do as she pleased.
“Um...”
“Ah, sorry. Please, go ahead.”
He'd forgotten about her poor eyesight. He'd have to get used to these little considerations. Being a bodyguard wasn't easy.
“Anyway, to finish what I was saying earlier—I came to escort you, Lady Eliana.”
“Escort...?”
“Winter Island in the north.”
She flinched at his words. Her delicate hand gripped the thin blanket, trembling.
“You said you wanted to go there, right?”
“...Yes.”
“So I'll be taking you.”
Soon, her red lips quivered. Kalen felt puzzled by her reaction. She'd called it her wish—one she'd cherished desperately for so long. Hearing it could come true should make her happy. But Eliana's response seemed more fearful than joyful.
“Don't you want to?”
“Ah, no...”
“Then why—”
“Doesn't it hurt...?”
She cut him off with that single question. Kalen didn't grasp the meaning at first, but realization dawned.
“Being near me... doesn't it hurt...?”
Eliana was worried. About Kalen, specifically. She set aside her long-held wish to fret over something tied to her illness first. That wasn't normal.
People always put themselves first. Consideration for others only works when one's own needs are met. Yet Eliana trembled with fear at the thought of someone else suffering.
—Either she's mad, or she's acting to keep from going mad.
Why did Blamia's words surface now? She looked fragile, a bit sickly, but Kalen sensed how deeply her mind had rotted—just a little, from this encounter.
It differed from when he'd risked his life for Sinat. That stemmed from a life debt and two years of memories. This was only his second meeting with Eliana.
Yet Kalen instinctively knew what needed fixing first, whatever the root: her twisted priorities.
“That's an odd question.”
“Pardon...?”
“If it hurt, I wouldn't be here.”
“Ah...”
“So no need to worry about me.”
It wasn't entirely painless, but he could endure it easily. Compared to the heart pain that required medicine just to bear, it was nothing.
“Anyway, we'll head to Winter Island after I finish my training...”
His calm voice echoed in the quiet room, feeling a touch unfamiliar.
The estate manager, Burn, had served House Rakatus for decades. He knew everything about the mansion and the territory. That deep trust extended from the family head to every member of the house—no exaggeration.
Lately, Burn had been handling rather novel duties.
“How's it going?”
“Well, my lord. He learns quickly. Especially anything related to attending the young lady—he's nearly mastered it.”
“Fast.”
It concerned the boy who had recently entered the mansion.
“Driving the carriage poses no issue, and the modifications you ordered are proceeding smoothly.”
When talk of the boy first arose, Burn hadn't viewed it positively. This position demanded caution in all things, and even Blamia couldn't manage it—how could a mere child? But those doubts faded quickly.
The trigger was his old friend of decades, Ebam, and the reliable Brushel, a model of trustworthiness. Ebam praised the boy's character; Brushel lauded his battlefield feats. The clincher was when the boy emerged unscathed from the young lady's side—from the pain even Blamia couldn't touch.
With things thus, Burn understood why his lord and master, Everchan Rakatus, was so obsessed. If he could grant his terminally ill daughter's wish, he'd sell his soul to the devil.
The incurable disease's exact name, cause, even origin—all unknown. Treatment had been abandoned long ago. Now, they could only hope the boy safely fulfilled the young lady's wish.
“Shall I show you?”
“What?”
“The book he's studying in his room. He borrowed it from the library keeper a few days ago.”
Everchan took the thick book from Burn.
How to Win a Woman's Heart
“...”
“I hear Miss Rusty assigned him homework to befriend the young lady first. Seems he's studying for that.”
Flip— As the pages turned, traces of diligent notes appeared.
Everchan recalled his impressions of Kalen. Mature beyond his years, with a composure unlike a child's. Perhaps lacking eloquence, he studied books like this. At least he wasn't half-hearted—relief.
But...
“The title...”
“Pardon?”
“...Never mind.”
What did it matter? A pure heart was enough. Everchan quietly closed the book.
—Third meeting.
They remained awkward, most conversations started by Kalen. He'd lead with a question about her interests, and Eliana would answer. Mostly curt replies, but Kalen deliberately matched her eye level.
Topics anyone might cover in hours on a first meeting—favorite foods, hobbies—stretched across their third. The road ahead seemed long.
—Fourth meeting.
Her clipped responses gained a bit of flesh, forming proper sentences. Her soft, languid voice persisted, but her own thoughts and feelings began to seep through. Kalen nodded occasionally from the side, listening quietly. He strove to keep her engaged, despite her poor sight and hearing.
Conversations still needed his initiative, but that alone marked progress. Her head tilted slightly more toward him than before.
—Fifth meeting.
“Hello... Kalen...”
“Ah.”
By then, Eliana began dropping formalities bit by bit. Lingering politeness suggested her own efforts. Still, her responses lengthened, infused with personal stories—mostly childhood memories. Straining to meet Kalen's lowered gaze was impressive.
—Sixth meeting.
For the first time, Eliana asked something. What Kalen did. What his training entailed. Was he in pain? Was listening to her boring?
Kalen grew animated, sharing boasts he normally wouldn't—like praise from Rusty for his competence, or nearly being hired as a coachman. During the tale of almost falling from a horse, he glimpsed her first smile.
Her body and head leaned substantially toward him, back to the window.
—Seventh meeting.
When asked her most precious possession, Eliana showed a brooch. Intricately engraved patterns dazzled the eyes. She called it her family's brooch. A birthday gift from her mother in less severe times. When alone in her room, she'd gaze at it to remind herself she was Rakatus blood.
Her expression seemed a touch forlorn.
Day after day. A week until Kalen was deemed trained. Even that was swift; his name buzzed as hot gossip in the Rakatus mansion.
Tales of the 'diligent, mature boy' especially thrilled young apprentice maids. He visited Eliana's room daily without fail—to report, but his stays lengthened.
And it was Eliana who kept him longer. Her head, once fixed out the window, now faced the door before he entered. Matching eye levels felt natural now.
Hasn't this cleared the assignment? Kalen wondered, gazing at Duke Everchan before him.
“Depart tomorrow.”
“Isn't that early?”
“I've heard evaluations. The head maid says you're better than seasoned maids.”
Four years attending Blamia and Sinat made it natural, Kalen thought, waiting silently.
“The carriage is ready. Provisions... we've packed as much as possible, but who knows. Can't load much inside, and they spoil quickly.”
“It's fine.”
“Good. How's the girl?”
“The young lady... seems a bit brighter.”
“Hm.”
Good news. Kalen nodded quietly at Everchan's reply.
At last—the terminally ill girl's final wish. The youngest lady of Rakatus stepping outside her room after seven years. The journey's beginning.