Two Years Later

Time had proven faster, crueler, and yet infinitely gentler than I ever imagined. Two whole years had already slipped by. Two years since Yua first entered the mansion, and two years since my brutally ordinary daily life had been completely shattered.

I, Leonardo Heavenfield, had now become a proper young man of seventeen. Yua had grown strikingly as well. At fifteen, she had shed the last traces of girlhood and now cast the subtle shadow of a woman.

Thanks to Head Maid Emma’s intense training, Yua’s table manners and way of walking were no longer anywhere near the word “barbaric.” She had matured into a lady more elegant and refined than any noble daughter in the duchy. And I remained her “exclusive young master” and “annoying older brother.” At least on paper.

One perfectly ordinary afternoon, we sat side by side on a bench in a quiet corner of the mansion’s vast garden where soft sunlight poured down. I was reviewing a territory report while Yua had opened a thick book on ancient languages she’d borrowed from the library and was scribbling notes.

Two years ago, this same hour would have been spent teaching her table manners or chasing her down hallways in a cold sweat. The peacefulness of it sometimes left me dizzy.

The sound of Yua breathing quietly beside me had become completely woven into my daily life. A familiar, comforting noise.

“Yua. That map of the ancient kingdom you asked about last time—the translation of the third-century edition should be tucked in the farthest corner of the study, in the spot that smells like mold.”

“Checking it should clear up your questions, I think.”

Yua stopped writing, turned her head, and stared at me. Her eyes still sparkled with curiosity for everything in the world, yet now they held a certain depth and composure.

She gave a small nod, then wrote something gently in her notebook and held it out.

“You just pick it up if you read enough. If you read enough… I didn’t know at first either, but after being stuck inside the Heavenfield duchy for a few years… you naturally start to understand these things.”

In truth, with a body as weak as mine, reading books was the only thing I could do.

…Though they weren’t exactly scholarly texts.

I grumbled as if annoyed. Honestly, every time Yua devoured those old books in the dusty study and uncovered hidden secrets, I felt an inexplicable swell of pride. She was the only person who recognized the value of the knowledge I possessed in that space where everyone had treated me as discarded. That fact had never changed.

“Hm. By the way, Yua. Head Maid Emma told me something yesterday…”

“That you climbed the rose vines all the way to the top and picked the highest flower.”

“What kind of whim was that?”

I teased lightly. I could almost hear Emma’s long sigh echoing in my ears.

Yua pointed at her notebook and lowered her head slightly. A faint blush colored her cheeks.

I was speechless. So in her mind, claiming “the prettiest flower” meant conquering it like that…

“Still, you didn’t have to confuse the poor gardener.”

I carefully ruffled her hair. It was no longer coarse like before; now it was soft and lustrous.

“Here. You’ll like this one.”

I finished skimming the territory report and handed her one of the books stacked beside me. It was the latest report on the excavation of ancient magical ruins discovered in the ducal warehouse. The text was packed with difficult technical terms and painfully dry, yet Yua’s eyes sparkled as she accepted it. Her gaze brimmed with the same curiosity I once had.

Her small hand brushed my fingers as she took the book.

Yua became completely absorbed in the book. Until the sun dipped low and dyed the garden crimson, we simply sat there, quietly confirming each other’s presence. She explored new worlds within difficult ancient texts while I watched her and unknowingly found rest in the peace that had come to me.

I sincerely hoped this quiet moment would last forever.

Deep into the night at the ducal mansion, I was still reviewing reports in the study. The desk remained buried under a mountain of documents… Could I really do this for the rest of my life? This slave-like existence. Ugh… I’m so sick of it.

“Whoa!?”

“Heh… hehe…”

A cold touch against the back of my neck made me flinch. I turned in surprise to find Yua creeping up behind me. In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her hand was my treasured silver pen case.

She held out her notebook.

“I’m not sleepy. I was just lost in thought for a second. And sleep in your own room. Why are you trying to sleep in my study?”

I answered curtly and turned back to the papers. Yua smiled brightly, then silently took the quill from my hand. She quickly wrote something in the corner of her notebook, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I frowned at the words. A rabbit, out of nowhere?

“Why a rabbit?” I asked. Yua brought the notebook closer to my face.

[A sleepy rabbit sleeps with its nose and Leo pats pat.]

“…What are you talking about?”

She pointed at the notebook with her finger, then very carefully patted my forehead with a soft tok tok.

“What is this… childish game?”

Complaints spilled from my lips, but my exhaustion-heavy eyelids were already sliding shut. Yua’s warm, gentle touch. Without realizing it, I closed my eyes. Her small hand slowly patted my forehead, my cheeks, then my hair. I felt a strange comfort in the motion. The tension that had hardened my shoulders from fatigue slowly melted away.

When I came back to my senses, Yua had already nestled softly against my shoulder and fallen fast asleep. Beneath the study’s gentle lamplight, her slender eyelashes cast delicate shadows. I carefully lifted her small, light body and carried her to her room, laying her on the bed.

This child had given me so much. Fatigue, irritation, confusion… and an indescribable warmth and smile. The peace she brought me, even briefly, was more precious than anything else.

I gazed at her peacefully sleeping face, feeling how the once-empty room had been filled with warmth because of her. And through her, I was changing little by little as well.

As time went on, Yua adapted to the strict lifestyle of the Heavenfield duchy with astonishing speed. The mischievous behaviors that once defined her gradually disappeared. Her every movement became shockingly precise and elegant. It was the perfect collaboration between Emma’s efforts and Yua’s extraordinary ability to learn.

I was starting to think it was time to promote Head Maid Emma to official head of the mansion’s childcare division. I shouldn’t forget to submit a report praising her hard work, either. As expected of nobility—some things simply had to become second nature.

At lunch, Yua no longer bit into whole loaves or gulped down soup. Following Emma’s teachings, she neatly sliced bread with a knife, arranged it on her plate, and used her fork and knife with practiced skill. Dabbing her lips with a napkin and sipping tea without a sound, she looked every inch a noble young lady. At times she even seemed more elegant than the other noblewomen. The result of perfect Spartan-style education.

Of course, she still could not speak.

Emma watched Yua’s transformation with satisfaction and occasionally reported her progress to me and Mother. I, too, observed her growth with quiet pleasure. The only things I had taught her were the mansion’s rules and basic safety, yet she had absorbed everything like a sponge.

One day when I visited her room, I found it far cleaner and more organized than before. Yua sat quietly in one corner, reading a book while holding a small leather notebook.

“You’ve changed quite a lot, Yua.”

At my words, she wrote in her notebook and showed it to me.

The moment I read those words, I understood. Yua was no longer the small, trembling creature from the darkness. She had become “my sister,” absorbing the rules of the Heavenfield duchy and growing in her own way.

A strange pride filled me. At the same time, I instinctively realized this emotion was slightly dangerous. I could bear responsibility, but feelings like these would only become a nuisance. Still… it wasn’t bad. Perhaps, just a little… it was sweet.

Head Maid Emma, who had gradually begun to open her heart to Yua, remained strict with her but sometimes confided in me. Her tone was as rigid as ever, yet beneath it I could sense faint praise.

“Young master. To speak honestly, at first I doubted whether the child ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could adapt. Bringing a street urchin into the ducal house was surprising enough, but she couldn’t speak and behaved like a wild horse with no restraint. Teaching her was truly exhausting. It felt as if my lifespan had shortened by three years in only a few days. I woke up drenched in cold sweat every night.”

Emma frowned as she spoke.

“That must have been difficult, Head Maid.”

I let out a small laugh. That wild-horse version of her was almost nostalgic now. Seeing how she had grown after all that chaos filled me with quiet pride. In the end, it was only right that I took responsibility for the mess.

“However… Miss Yua possesses an astonishingly quick absorption rate. Whatever she is taught, she absorbs completely. Her speed in mastering etiquette surpasses most noble daughters. In mere days she perfected table manners, gait, and even proper use of the study. Yesterday I almost believed she had read every book in the library… Her learning ability is practically genius level. She seems to possess natural talent.”

Emma gave Yua a strict yet approving look. It was the gaze of someone acknowledging that a truly “useful” ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠person had entered the Heavenfield family.

I nodded.

Yua’s adaptation went beyond surface changes. She had begun to internalize the ducal lifestyle as part of herself. I was her guardian and teacher; she had become an unpredictable variable and a source of joy within my otherwise tedious days.

Yua’s life in the mansion continued smoothly. Mother still watched over her with warmth, and Yua loved the times when Mother read to her most of all. The other servants had grown used to her as well. They kindly answered the small questions she wrote on her notebook and quietly stayed by her side.

Yua practically lived in the library. She absorbed every kind of book, and one day she even surprised the servants by handing me a note asking for the location of an ancient tome hidden behind a cabinet—something not even I had asked the study manager about.

Her world expanded through books. Each day she learned and explored something new, and her eyes grew deeper.

I sometimes asked what she was reading, learning about her interests through the answers she wrote. Yua’s notes gradually filled with concise, clear sentences.

The world was quiet. The chaos inside Heavenfield surrounding Yua had settled, and outside gazes had turned favorable. Yet within all this peace, I felt an inexplicable sense of unease. Perhaps I instinctively knew that perfect tranquility was always the calm before the storm.

But at least for now, Yua was safe. Maybe that was enough. For a little while, we could breathe inside the artificial peace we had created. Like a quiet omen signaling the rise of a new act in our lives.

And I understood. This child would not remain a mere long-term piece on the board. She was not simply an existence that obeyed the role given to her; she carried a flame that would imprint her own being upon the world. I watched over Yua’s growth with a complicated heart—half anticipation, half anxiety—wondering what ripples that flame would create. Along with a vague fear that this child might one day cause an “incident” beyond even my imagination.