The king enjoyed the festival alongside us, his presence blending seamlessly into the warmth of the celebration. As his personal guard, my father had to remain by his side at all times. It didn't bother me—it was his duty, after all. Yet I couldn't help thinking he should be spending more time with his own family.
Assuming he had one.
I'd overheard, in a conversation not meant for my ears, that the king's daughter wasn't in the kingdom and that his wife... well, there the information dissolved into an uncomfortable void. Still, it stood to reason that a father would want to share moments with his own daughter rather than escorting another family. But I suppose this was the best arrangement for now. If the king needed protection, there wasn't much to be done about it.
We found ourselves on the dance floor, at the heart of the festival. Elders and children alike moved to the melodies played by skilled musicians. Some even sang as they danced, lost in the joy of the celebration.
I had to admit, the dances of this world possessed a singular elegance. A beauty that felt strangely familiar. It was hard to explain... as if, in my past life, I'd carried a persistent nostalgia for a time I'd never lived, as though this era were the one I'd always belonged to.
It was so peaceful.
"U-um, e-excuse me..."
A trembling voice came from behind me.
Hm?
I turned.
Oh, a little girl. Her face was flushed with embarrassment.
"Yes? How can I help you?" I asked kindly. Had she gotten lost? If so, Mother or Father could assist her.
The girl fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding my gaze. I raised an eyebrow.
What was wrong?
"I was wondering if... if you'd like to dance with me..."
Oh. What should I do? It had been a while since I'd last danced with someone. Besides, dances from the modern era were completely different from these.
Maybe I should give it a try. It would be the sensible thing to do. Could be a good experience.
I glanced around for Mother, but she was no longer beside me. At some point, she'd joined the dance floor with Father without me noticing. When had that happened? Guess I had no choice but to accept. I wouldn't go far anyway.
"Well—"
"Hold it!"
What?
Before I could respond, Isolde stepped between us. Her furrowed brow and rigid stance radiated authority.
"Lucy, you're staying with me!" she declared with absolute determination, crossing her arms.
The girl blinked, bewildered.
"What? Why?" I asked, perplexed. It wasn't like I was going to vanish in the middle of the festival.
"Because—" Isolde hesitated for a moment before lifting her chin defiantly. "Because I said so. And because Mother told me not to let you out of my sight."
Oh, come on. That was obviously a lie. What was her problem now? Her stiff posture, the way she avoided my gaze, how she pressed her lips together... She didn't want to let me go.
But why?
"I'm not going far—"
"N-no matter! You're staying right here with me."
She grabbed my hand firmly and dragged me toward where the king stood, watching the dancers without joining in.
Before Isolde could pull me away completely, I looked back.
The girl had raised a hand, as if to stop me, but then lowered it in resignation. Her expression held quiet disappointment.
And when I turned my gaze to Isolde, I caught something else in her face.
It wasn't just annoyance.
It was something deeper.
A glint of fear, of stubbornness, of absolute refusal. As if the mere thought of someone else taking me away from her side was unbearable.
Was she... jealous?
I watched Isolde out of the corner of my eye. She was still upset.
I moved closer and stood beside her, breaking the silence with the subtlety of a dagger slipping between ribs.
"Why didn't you let me go with her?"
"Why? Because you can't wander off from us. If you get lost, Mom and Dad will be angry."
She was lying.
I studied her calmly.
"Are you jealous?"
I saw her ears turn red.
Oh, bullseye.
I didn't fully understand it. Was this one of those childish sibling jealousies? The need to keep someone she considered hers from being shared?
"And now why are you quiet?"
I leaned slightly to see her face. It was completely red, with a barely concealed pout. I smiled, amused, but when she tried to turn away to hide, I had to school my expression.
"So what if I am?!" she suddenly snapped. Oh hell, she really was upset. "You can't go with anyone else but me. You're still too little."
She wasn't wrong. If I thought about it coldly, I was far from the right age for something like that.
"...Then... let's make a deal."
"What?"
...Wait, I hadn't even thought of what.
I scrambled for an idea. Technically, I'm way too young to have a partner. What's the standard age? Fourteen? Fifteen? No clue. I never had a girlfriend in my past life. And when I got close to having one... well, I ended up killing her during sex. Not particularly proud of that, in case you were wondering.
I never experienced love that way.
But... for Isolde, I could do this. I was determined.
"I won't go out with anyone else but you until I'm fifteen. Deal?"
"What do you mean by that?"
Come on, seriously? I don't even know why I'm discussing romantic relationships with my eight-year-old little sister.
But if this reassures her and guarantees I won't have a girlfriend before fifteen, then it's worth it.
"I mean, until I turn fifteen, I won't go out with anyone else with... other intentions. Just you, all the time, every day."
A small smile appeared on her face. Even so, she mulled it over, as if analyzing whether the offer was good enough for her.
"Mmm..." she hummed thoughtfully before locking eyes with me. "Deal!"
I smiled back and hugged her. Her cheeks were cold, but her hands were warm. In the end, we never bought gloves for her, so I ended up giving her mine. Though, as an alternative, we found a solution: Syrix.
I managed to manipulate it to warm my skin, turning it into an improvised heat source. Efficient, yes. But exhausting.
"Hey, Lucy..." she said suddenly, pulling back from the hug. "Don't you think he looks really lonely?"
She pointed behind me.
The king.
I looked at him.
Yeah, he did seem lonely. But not in the way of someone who chooses solitude—more like the distant sadness of someone carrying too much weight on their shoulders.
"Maybe," I murmured. "Do you think something's wrong?"
"Mmm... I don't know. Ever since he's been with us, he's had this... sad look. But maybe it's because his wife and daughter aren't here."
Didn't this sound a bit too much like adult gossip?
"I'm going to talk to him," I decided.
The king probably needed company, someone to talk to. Though, if I was honest, I wasn't sure a conversation with a child would be particularly interesting for him.
"What? Wait, you're seriously going to talk to the king?" Isolde asked, confused.
"Sure. Why not? Just wait for me."
I started walking toward the king.
Isolde made a half-hearted attempt to stop me but failed.
So I kept going.