You Did Nothing Wrong
The wooden horse, drained of its magical glow, plummeted toward the floor. Bound fast to its back, Lefonya plunged with it into the bottomless abyss.
No matter how frantically she struggled, there was no escape. The suffocating darkness pressing down from above felt like the Pope's colossal palm.
I never should have sunk to this depth in the first place.
No matter how desperately she had yearned to escape, no matter how fiercely she had wanted to live, she should never have fallen into this pit.
—Does anyone even want you alive?
From the depths of that murky dark, the cold hands of dead children reached up, dragging Lefonya down.
—This is where you belong anyway.
They whispered relentlessly, cursing her, willing her never to forget.
—Once the mission is over and you get out of there, what do you even plan to do?
When the mission ends and I leave that place... I'll go somewhere no one will ever look for me. I'll live normally, just like everyone else. Not forced by someone else's will, but doing the things I want, enjoying the things I never had the chance to.
—Do you really think you could ever be happy?
Rustle.
Lefonya gently fluttered her eyes open at the touch grazing her forehead. Unlike the nightmare of plunging into the abyss, she was still in her bedroom at the Craitan duchy estate.
A blessing, or a curse?
As she stared up blankly at the chandelier, she felt a soft draft of wind. She slowly turned her head.
"...You."
Lefonya's eyes widened. Standing right beside the bed was the boy from before—the boy who had told her that she was alive.
Seeing the open terrace window, it was clear how he had slipped in.
To think I failed to sense someone this close...
Looking down at her with an impassive gaze, the boy reached out and brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to her forehead. It was the very touch that had pulled her from her dream. His golden eyes, looking down indifferently, were so captivating they seemed to hold pure light captive within them.
"...Were you the one who reported me at the abandoned shack?" Lefonya asked in a tiny voice, wary of anyone else overhearing.
The hand brushing her hair paused.
It was him.
That slight hesitation was all the confirmation Lefonya needed. She tried to push herself upright, but her miserable five-year-old body had no strength to give. Her brow furrowed, she reached out with great effort and clutched his sleeve.
There were too many questions.
Did you switch the potions in the shack? If so, why? What did you mean by what you said last time? If you plan to kill me, why haven't you done it yet? Why are you watching me? Who in the world are you?
Perhaps because there was so much to ask, she had no idea where to start. It was only natural; she had lived her entire life doing only what others commanded, never once questioning anything.
"You—"
The boy looked down into her eyes, as if granting her permission: Go on, I'll answer at least one.
Of all the countless questions crowding her mind, the one Lefonya ultimately blurted out was...
"...What's your name?"
It was utterly useless to ask. Clearly caught off guard, the boy's eyes widened in surprise before his expression softened into an amused smile. No sound left his lips, but just watching the gentle curve of his eyes gave her a strange, fluttering sensation.
"Rudeum," he answered softly. She genuinely hadn't expected him to tell her.
Lefonya blinked, rolling the name over her tongue. Rudeum. It felt foreign, completely unfamiliar—a name she had never heard in her life.
"Then, Rudeum, why are you..."
"I don't know what to do with you, Lefonya," Rudeum murmured in a calm, low voice.
It wasn't an extraordinary statement, yet his voice possessed a quiet gravity that commanded rapt attention, making one hold their breath just to listen.
He knows my name.
Then again, considering he could sneak into her bedroom at will, knowing her name was hardly surprising.
"First it was a fire, I hear."
"Huh?"
"And this time, you fell into the lake."
How did he know everything that had happened?
"Perhaps... the things happening to you are my fault."
"...?"
Seeing how dead serious he looked, Lefonya tilted her head in confusion.
"If I had—"
"Aren't you... a little too full of yourself?"
"What?"
"You don't actually think you're the main character of the entire world, do you?" Lefonya asked with genuine concern.
Rudeum frowned, looking completely dumbfounded.
Ah. At his age, I suppose it's normal to believe the world revolves around you.
Fearing she had crushed a child's innocent dreams, Lefonya hurriedly tried to salvage the situation. "No, forget it. Thinking about it, it makes sense. You are the protagonist of the world. Yup, absolutely."
"...It's nothing like that, so stop."
Sighing, Rudeum stroked her hair. The Duke and Felence patted her head from time to time, but strangely, this felt entirely different.
"It'll be fine."
"Huh?"
"From now on, I'll help you."
What in the world is he talking about? Do kids his age always say such incomprehensible things out of nowhere?
"There are a lot more things I can do now."
"I don't understand a single word you're saying. Don't you think you should explain before rambling on?"
Rudeum merely let out a quiet chuckle and continued to stroke her hair.
He's just a kid himself, yet he's treating me like a baby.
Oddly enough, it didn't bother her. Why?
"Have you forgotten your nightmare now?"
"Huh?"
Rudeum pulled his hand away from her head. Instinctively, Lefonya knew he was preparing to leave.
"Wait!"
She clung desperately to his sleeve. Taken aback by the sudden grip, Rudeum looked down at her with wide eyes. There was still so much she wanted to ask.
"...Will you."
She had half-expected him to wrench his arm away and vanish, but Rudeum stood still, patiently waiting for her to finish.
"Will you come again?"
Slowly, Rudeum took her small hand in his. Gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve, he tucked her hand carefully beneath the blanket.
"We'll see each other soon."
"Soon?"
"Next time, you come to me, Lefonya." Rudeum let out a breath of soft, dry laughter. "So survive. Somehow."
Last time, he said he was glad she was alive. This time, he was telling her to survive.
"What does that—"
Before Lefonya could even finish her sentence, Rudeum turned away. Her hand fell limp onto the mattress.
"Wait! How am I supposed to go? Where am I even—"
Lefonya called after him, but the boy did not stop. Moving toward the open terrace window, he mounted the silver wolf just as he had before and took to the sky.
Watching his retreating silhouette disappear into the night, Lefonya turned his name over in her mind.
Rudeum. Rudeum.
One thing is certain: he has no intention of killing me.
Then who on earth was he? It felt like he knew her, yet didn't know her at all. Why did he keep visiting her, checking on her, and telling her to stay alive without ever explaining anything?
He doesn't seem like a bad person, though.
Lefonya repeated his name silently over and over, determined not to forget it.
If he could visit openly, he wouldn't sneak through my terrace window at night; he would have come in broad daylight.
It was probably best not to mention Rudeum to the Duke or Felence.
Survive?
It was the first time in her life anyone had ever said that to her. A faint, self-deprecating smile touched Lefonya's lips. Strangely, the tension in her chest melted away, and a wave of drowsiness washed over her.
She had a feeling there would be no nightmares tonight.
When she opened her eyes again, morning had arrived.
Lefonya blinked blearily and took in her surroundings. The first thing she saw was the Duke of Craitan sitting beside her bed, his upper body hunched forward.
"...Your Grace?"
Expecting Birdie and Becky to be there like after the fire, Lefonya called out to him in flustered surprise. The Duke, who had been burying his face in his large hands, raised his head at the sound of her voice.
"Fonya."
A heavy groan tore from the imposing man, sounding almost like a collapse. Perhaps because she had slept soundly through the night, strength had returned to her limbs, unlike the previous evening.
Lefonya slowly sat up in bed. In the corner of the room stood the wooden horse that had plunged into the water, evidently fished out from the lake.
Is he angry?
Lefonya strained to gauge the Duke's mood. Just like the fire incident, this was a disaster—except this time, there was no culprit. Back then, the Duke had directed his fury at the assassins who attempted to take her life, giving his wrath an outlet. But this time, no one had tried to kill her.
He was bound to be furious that Lefonya—the 'fake daughter' brought in to soothe his lingering guilt over his deceased child—had nearly died.
Which meant there was only one person left for the Duke to vent his anger on.
"...I'm sorry."
Herself.
Lefonya apologized with utmost deference. The Duke's expression twisted into pure agony.
Lefonya looked down at her small body. Should I offer the back of my hands to be struck? Or would it be better to roll up my skirts and offer my calves for the switch? Or maybe my back?
Any of those would hurt far less than having that enormous hand strike her across the face.
After agonizing over the options, Lefonya placed both hands on the side table and turned her back to him.
"What are you doing?" the Duke asked through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low.
Considering she was supposed to be a noble's daughter, she assumed the Duke wouldn't want visible scars on her hands or legs, which was why she had settled on her back.
"I thought... it would be better if you hit my back. If it's my back, clothes will cover it up, so the marks won't show."
"What?"
"...Is that not right? Should I be hit somewhere else?"
Worried she had chosen wrong, Lefonya nervously tried to read his face.
"Lefonya."
The Duke clenched his jaw as he called her name. Not 'Fonya' as he usually did, but 'Lefonya.'
A shiver ran down her spine. The pet name 'Fonya' had always felt awkward and foreign, yet strangely, hearing her full name now made her yearn for that tender nickname.
"Come here," he commanded, his voice strained with barely contained restraint.
Hesitating, Lefonya stepped forward until she stood before him.
"Do you believe you deserve to be beaten?"
Why was he asking something so obvious? Lefonya nodded.
"Why?"
"Because I did wrong, and Your Grace is angry."
"Do I look angry to you?"
Lefonya stole a glance upward from her bowed head. A terrifying expression met her eyes.
"Y-Yes."
"And why should you be beaten just because I am angry?"
"Because... Your Grace is angry because I did something wrong."
"And what did you do wrong?"
His questions pressed relentlessly, picking apart every word. She almost wanted to beg him to just hit her and get it over with, but the look on his face was so terrifying that she answered as earnestly as she could.
"I dropped the gift Your Grace gave me, and... I wasn't careful."
"I was the one who gave you that wooden horse. I should have installed proper safety measures, but I failed to do so. Is that your fault, Lefonya?"
Wait... is that how it works?
"What else? Tell me what else you did wrong."
"Uh... um. I fell into the water, so..."
"I told you, I was the one who gave you the horse. Falling into the water was because of the horse, which means that too is my fault."
Lefonya bit her lip.
Then what did I do wrong?
Her mind spun furiously. The only reason the Duke was angry was because she had made a mistake. That was how it had always been at the orphanage, the workhouse, and the training quarters built by the Pope. Yet every time she named a fault, the Duke insisted it was all his own doing.
Then what on earth did I do wrong?
Lefonya fidgeted nervously with her little fingers.
"Haah... Fonya."
The moment he called her Fonya, a sudden wave of relief washed over her. She didn't know why, but a lump rose in her throat and tears threatened to spill. Having buried these feelings for so long, she couldn't even identify what this emotion was. Clasping her small hands tightly together, Lefonya swallowed the swell of emotion and held it back.
"No matter what mistake you make, it will never be a reason for you to be struck. No one in this world dares lay a hand on you—not even me."
She didn't know what to say. Having never heard such words in her life, she had no idea how to react.
"If anyone ever tries to strike you, do not stand there meekly like you did just now. Strike them first. It doesn't matter who it is. I will deal with the aftermath."
"..."
"If that proves too difficult, run to me."
Lefonya looked up at the Duke.
"I will hit them back tenfold on your behalf. So from now on, never stand there taking it like you did just now."
"B-But still... if I did something wrong—"
"You did nothing wrong."