《I was Born the Unloved Twin》


 -1 Rosalia?

    Ah....I died.


    I don''t know how I know this, but I''m dead.


    I''m in a dark space that''s warm and comfortable unlike a bed. It makes no sense, I can only be dead.


    How did I even die?


    I can''t remember but that''s probably for the best. Maybe that''s what happens when you die, it gets blurred out. Because otherwise it would be too much, it would hurt too much.


    It already hurts, it hurts so much. I don''t know what hurts more dying or being dead.Why did I say such things back then.?


    Damn it why did I say all those things. "I want to die" I''m better off dead" "I should just-" Damn it Damn it Damn it!


    It hurts. Now that I''m really dead, it really hurts so much.


    In the end I wanted to live. I had a lot of problems, my life wasn''t easy....but still I wanted to live.


    Mom, Dad, everyone....I''m sorry.


    I am so sorry.


    I don''t want to leave you all. I want to stay longer, do more, be more. I wanted to make more memories . I wanted to make you all happy...I wanted to live happily.


    But I can''t anymore.


    It''s all my fault. I don''t do it myself but I still died. I''m sorry, I''m so sorry.


    There''s nothing I can do in this space but cry, so that''s what I''m doing. Cry and scream and cry some more. In this dark safe space I''ll cry out my regrets and then some, because it''s too late for regrets but I''m endlessly filled with them.


    I cried and cried into the darkness yet nothing happened. I didn''t feel much better as I cry, it was just too much to hold in.


    So this is what it''s like to die too soon, to die like I did. Full of regrets.


    I cried even as I saw a light shining in the distance. I criedas it got closer and closer, not because of fear but because I was just so damned sad.


    So this is it?


    No! I won''t accept it! I want to live! DO you hear me? I want to live!


    A flash....and I''m gone...


    ...or am I?


    It''s too bright, everything is too bright and too loud. It''s the complete opposite of the quite darkness I was in before. I can hear my own crying voice but amplified.


    Everything is strange, scary and all too much. It''s awful.


    "It''s a girl! A healthy girl!"


    I hear shouting in an unfamiliar yet still understandable language.


    "Deep breathes, you must keep going M'' Lady!"


    "She''s weak!"


    "Prepare more hot water stat! We must prepare for the next one."


    I hear a woman scream in excruciating pain and the rush of panic around me. I hear as those sounds muffle as I get further and further away from the awful noise.


    In a way I understand. Just like how I knew I was dead, I understand that I''ve been born again. I''m alive!


    But I can''t stop crying, it hurts. Not so much physically, though all my senses do tingle uncomfortably. The pain I''m feeling is more mental, the regrets of all my life culminated.


    I only stop and calm when grabbed by large steady hands. They''re rough, not exactly gentle but the stablest I''ve ever felt.


    I can''t see clearly, everything is a blur. But it''s a man, that much I can tell from how he holds me and his general shape. He holds me calmly and for the moment I can stop the painful sobbing.


    "Hmm"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Congratulations Master, your first grandchild."


    "...I see."


    "What is it?"


    "You too huh...I thought I was the only one."


    "Pardon me Great Lord, whatever do you mean?"


    "It''s nothing, just..."


    "Just?"


    "She''s done this before. And she''s not happy about it."


    "Pardon? What?"


    "Haha very well then, I''ll allow it. While you are under my line your name shall be Rosalia."


    "A name directly from you sir? My what a blessing!"


    "A blessing? Ha, that''s will be up to you little one. Do your best then. It will be interesting if anything."


    Those hands wrap me in something warm. It can''t compare to the dark but it was still good, comforting. Despite the sounds of screaming and rushing people a sense of lulling peace compels me. As if something heavy has been crowned upon my head and eyes.


    I may be imagining it as I fall asleep but it feels like gentle rocking, strong and steady.


    I''m too tired from crying to consider the stranger''s words any further.


    I just take them as truth, I am now Rosalia

 1 A second chance

    I woke up alone, tired and absolutely helpless. But I woke up aware of who I am and my surroundings.


    I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella and I have lived this life before.


    Or at least that''s what it feels like... how else do you explain my supposed entire life playing out like a badly made movie?


    After arriving to this world as a newborn I fell into a deep sleep. It was peaceful, restful even untilthe dreams turned into a nightmare that would not end- not till I died a gruesome death.


    I was born the eldest child to a powerful noble household. My grandfather was the hero of this land, his name resounds far and wide, well respected in this semi-peaceful world. I grew up well taken care of, like a rose in a greenhouse. I grew up twisted by the humans around me.


    I was not alone.


    I had a sister who was born just minutes after me. She was the source of so much of my suffering, whether she knew it or not.


    My younger twin sister- Lilyanne Maria Ventrella.


    We had the same face and yet our fates were so different I could cry at the thought, or is it a memory.


    The minute after the strike of midnight passing into the New Year, the holiest day of this world, came Lilyanne''s birth. She was a prophecy come true, the dawn, the light and the future. Or so the ''wise men'' foretold.


    I was born too early, a minute before midnight, a minute before the end of the passing year. It was not necessarily a bad omen but not a good one. That would come later, the implication was clear. Still I was the firstborn child to the only daughter of the hero and the country''s future prime minister. It was impossible to mistreat me.


    It was pure neglect, that''s what I saw watching Rosalia''s memories. Mine now, a part of my soul whispers. Sometimes being ignored, being a ghost, was more painful than being physically hit.


    Since the beginning Lilyanne came first. Her frail health grew into a delicate constitutionand then into a pure nobleness incomparable to any other lady.


    The Lilyanne I knew was called the perfect womanwith her angelic beauty, gentle air and renowned artistry in the delicate arts. Even without her status as the Holy Maiden, blessed with the unheard power of prophecy, she was perfect.


    The Lilyanne I knew was not the perfect woman, no she was something far worse. She was my beloved little sister, clumsy and far too naive for her own good. This is the most painful part; I loved her, loved her dearly.


    She came first, our parents and everyone else loved and praised her to the high heavens. And I was just there. I was there to accompany her. At best to be her keeper but in reality it wasto serve as a foil, a contrast. Even with the same face I was different from her, I was not enough, never enough in my whole life.


    But I was good enough to be a sacrifice.


    The country to the north, powerful in a way ours wasn''t reached their hands out in peace. Their son and heir would be an agreeable pair with a noble granddaughter of the great hero. As the eldest it would make sense to arrange for my marriage before hers. But really I was to be thrown away as a political pawn by the time I reached 18.


    But here''s where the real kicker lies: they fell in love.


    Against all odds, the cold brute of a man called my fiance and my sweet foolish little sister had fallen in love.


    What could I do with that? How was I allowed react? What would anyone else do in my place?


    I tried to be wise, to follow all the proper decorum and more, but it burned something terrible. It hurt more than anything I''ve ever faced in this already painful life. It hurt so badly because it was my own sister who did this to me.And the worst part was that it wasn''t even her fault, not really.


    I lashed out.


    As much as it pained them, as much as songs and stories will weep for them, it''s what ultimately killed me.


    I hate her so much.


    I resent her with every fiber of my being, everything wrong with me can be linked back to her. I hate and I raged and burned...and I loved her still. How pathetic of me right?


    It wasn''t her fault, not really. She wasn''t innocent, not in her ignorance, her foolishness or in what she allowed to happen. But she wasn''t solely to blame in this world. In the end she was the only one to sincerely weep as I died. I remember her ugly sobbing face with a sick sense of satisfaction, even through all the sorrow.


    "I did it, I hurt you in such a way you will never recover from dear sister. And with my death I''ll set you all free from the past, from me."


    That''s what I wanted to say as I laid bleeding out but I had no strength left. I had nothing left, not even hatred. Nothing but regrets that is.


    This is not what I wanted, I''m sorry.


    I''m sorry I want to live too.


    I want to be happy too.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I''m sorry.


    Somewhere along the line between dream and consciousness Rosalia''s words and mine melded together. All the horrible guilt, unbearable sadness and lifelong regrets bubbled boiled and mixed into a terrible potion that seems to make up my blood.


    I get it now, I really do.


    My name is Rosalia.


    I repeat it to myself and not my old name....that doesn''t matter really, not anymore. I am her and she''s me, and just maybe we always were one in the same. If I want to live, really live here I have to let go of some of those regrets. And if I can''t, I''ll just have to live twice as hard.


    That is the only resolve I can make for our past selves.


    I understand that despite all common sense I''ve been reborn as a newborn Rosalia, the light led me to a new life.


    A more crude cynical side of me just says that the light was a literal exit point.


    After the traumatic ordeal of being born again with the rush of my new identity, I can only move on. I don''t want any more regrets.


    I''m alive, that''s all I can say. I''m alive.


    To all my loved ones, I''m sorry and thank you. I''ll never forget you.


    But I have to live now.

 2 A babys life is rather useless

    When I woke up, truly woke up for the first time since being born it was alone in a basket. Given it was a very nice basket, soft and well cushioned, I was still alone.


    More than a little irresponsible to be leaving a newborn alone wouldn''t you say?


    I sigh as the signs of neglect I''ve seen in a dream, memory, seem to be starting early. I''m not a real baby, at least not mentally but who knows what could happen. I''m absolutely vulnerable and helpless at the moment.


    Since I''m not a real baby there''s should be no need to cry. It''s shameful and against reason.I try to speak which is of course impossible at this stage, instead what comes out is a babbling cooing noise. It sounds absolutely adorable and mortifying to my ears, still no one comes.


    My motor skills are terrible as a baby. It''s difficult to move the way I want to, as if the signals my brain is supposed to send out are getting mixed up. Instead of forcing it I try to work around it, figuring out the ticks to some reasonable movement. There''s no hope of escape anywhere outside the basket anytime soon but I''d like to have some semblance of control here.


    No matter how much noise or wiggling I make no one seems to come for me. It''s rather lonely for a baby to be treated in such a way. It may be necessary to cry, who knows how long I''ll be left ignored if I don''t make an adequate noise. But I''m still very tired.


    Right when I decide to settle down for another nap I hear and feel the presence of people approaching. About time.


    "Right and ready as rain! Oh dearie look at you, all bright eyed. A healthy baby if I ever saw one."


    An older woman cradles me with plump hands out from my sleeping spot. She seems simple but experienced in how she holds me. I''m just grateful I haven''t truly been left alone. I''m getting hungry after all.


    I coo at her touch and look around at the blurry figures around her. Three other woman I assume from the shape of their long dresses, they sound much younger.


    "So cute"


    "Such a difference!"


    "Oh if only the younger one could be so well off"


    "Hush now girls, that''s quite normal for multiple children. The first borns are always the stronger ones."


    "Oh but the poor little angel, Lady Maria had such a difficult birth."


    "Ms. Gerta, are they finished with the baptism yet? The doctors so fear she won''t make it."


    The woman holding me sighs, I have''t known her long yet but I like her. She seems to have some sense.


    "Yes, she''s been christianed Lilyanne Maria Ventrella."


    "Oh how gorgeous, and maned after our Lady Maria!"


    "Isn''t it odd how the younger child was named and baptized before the eldest?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "It couldn''t be helped after all, the little babe came out so frail that they feared the worst."


    "Oh hush, all is right now and the children can be reunited with their mother. "


    This sure is a noisy bunch of girls but I''ll take the free news. Gossipy or not. I recall my sister always being a little weak and sickly in our early childhood. Poor Lilyanna couldn''t do this or that, sending me to various lessons and studies alone. It''s concerning that she''s such a weak baby but if memory serves me right she''ll be alright eventually. Still this place doesn''t look very promising from what I can sense now that I''m here in the moment. No antiseptic, disinfectant, nor machines. Wealth and nobility be dammed there''s nothing usefully modern here.


    "Straighten up your manner, we''re approaching."


    "Yes mam"


    The three chorus to Ms. Getra''s command. I sort of remember her now, if only for her sternness and ear pulling. She was still alright by my book back then, since she always talked to me as an adult.Hell she actually talked to me, that was something.


    Thinking about reliving such a childhood is depressing.


    They stop and open up a large heavy doorway with ornate carvings. While everything looks extra large to me at my size I can use comparison and past knowledge to make sense of what I see.


    "Lord Frederick....Lady Maria. May I present to you your first born child."


    "Yes very good, bring her here."


    As commanded I was brought to a bed in the center of the room. It was surrounded by quite a few people shaped blobs, servants and others I assumed. Laid in the center of the head of the bed was a woman in white with long curls of shining bronze.


    Leaning next to her in a sort of caring embrace was the sound of the voice. A much taller figure of a man, lean, lavishly dressed and with a head of amber hair


    Mother and Father. Instantly recognizable when they''re together, even with my limited vision.


    I was presented to them to gaze upon.


    "Oh my darling, look Lilyanne, it''s your older sister."


    That was the moment that I noticed her. Bundled up, a baby like myself and nestled in mother''s arms was Lilyanne. I could see her perfectly.


    So small, this sleeping little pink blob. It was rather ugly if I was being honest. But I knew it was her.


    "Dear do bring her closer. I wish to hold her but can''t possibly let go of Lilyanne."


    "Of course my Maria, now come here child. Remarkable how lively she is, with what a healthy set of lungs she was blessed with coming out into the world."


    I pout at the man making to hold me, ah yes father always always had a mouth like this. It never failed to piss me off even now. Can''t even have anything nice to say towards a baby you just met? I''m yours you know?


    I''m not exactly happy but neither am I displeased. So these are my parents...it''s been so long since I''ve last seen them in Rosalia''s, my,memories. Not since they disappeared and died when I was 10.


    It''s a mixed bag of emotions, something Rosalia never achieved closure on. That same complicated mixture of love and resentment as towards Lilyanne but with a lot more yearning. Despite everything that happened Rosalia wasn''t a bad girl, just one that too desperately wanted love that wasn''t even there.


    It''s a disappointing though relieving first meeting. They seem to care somewhat I suppose, but I won''t get my hopes up.


    I''ve done enough of that in my past life. If I''m not as loved or cared for, just like last time, then there''s no need to set myself up for more hurt. Rosalia''s feelings are now my own, I will experience everything she has to some extent. I''ll control what I can otherwise what''s the point in getting reborn here?


    A stab of pain strikes my heart as I remember my own parents that I''ve left behind . Humbler, older,not as pretty and so so much better. At least I had that, I had their love.It won''t do to cry anymore, at least not now.


    Hiccuping back the sobs that threaten to overwhelm me again, I turn to look in favor of observing this picture perfect family picture in front of me.


    "Oh darling, she''s so beautiful. You must place her into my arms, yes the other one."


    Father agrees and positions me to be cradled opposite of my red faced sister. Mother''s arms are thin, but I''m comfortable enough supported on the bed.


    "Yes it''s the same face, our little girls."


    It''s not a bad moment, being held together as a family like this. I think I''ve been feeling too lonely in the moment because I sink into it. Relish it. It''s comforting, ebbing the surge of now painful family memories.


    I think I can do it.


    I can try again for the better.


    It''s not a declaration or a resolution or anything of the sort. But it''s a start.

 3 Grampa is a suspicious character

    "Now that the first born is here shall we name her under the witness of the priests?"


    Asked one of the blurry blob strangers, an old man by the sounds of it. They all looked the same to me, now and from last time, stuffy beards and judgmental stares.


    "Excellent idea, well then my Maria, what shall we name her."


    "Hmm well then, something to suit with Lilyanne Maria, since they are twins. Perhaps Licillia? Another flower? Oh what about a name from your side of the family my dear?"


    "Well let me see..."


    Cough cough-goes another old man.


    "Ahemif I may be so bold to interject but you father Lady Maria has already named the child her first by this time."


    "Oh!? How marvelous! Papa never said anything about helping with names. But isn''t it wonderful! I''m so glad he did."


    "A little strange but it is fitting for him to name our first child. We couldn''t, wouldn''t possibly refuse."


    "Oh do tell, what did papa name her?"


    "The great Lord has blessed her with the name Rosalia under his cloak."


    The crowd murmurs around to themselves.


    "Rosalia, a rose and a lily! It''s perfect, I must find the chance to thank papa later for this."


    "It''s a fair and beautiful name dear...it bit much but wonderful."


    "Oh but Frederick darling you must choose a name from your side, she hasn''t received any from us,"


    "Yes, well then how about from my great aunt Therese, It has a certain ring of dignity to it."


    "Oh, Rosalia Therese Ventrella. Yes that sounds right on the tongue. Rosalia Therese and Lillyanne Maria, it''s perfect."


    "So it shall be my Lord and Lady!"


    The blobs make a fuss of movement around us, ringing this bell and scribbling this or that. There''s the smell of something burning and the sounds of people chanting. Lucky me, what child gets to remember their own baptism, wine bath and all. It''s just how birth certificates work around here.


    It''s a lot to take in. Memories aside this is still not my own world nor my own time.


    These people look like foreigners to me, despite my blurred baby vision. Everything looks...different.


    What''s even more concerning is the structure of everything.


    It''s not exactly dirty, not with the work and man power the servants put in.. But that''s only in noble households and such. Nothing is sanitized and soap is something of a luxury item. The buildings are made primarily of wood and stone, people use carriage instead of cars, while swords and cold weapons are openly carried around with the people.


    Some people even have magical powers, rare but not impossible. People like Lilyanne.


    I am obviously somewhere far away from the home I know. Or shouldI say some time?


    Both! Let''s go with both.


    History and lore say that it was worse, not so long ago. Nations and states were fractured, constantly at war. Famine, monstrous beast rampages, and death were all too common. People survived miserably by the skin of their teeth. It was lawless chaos.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Until the hero came.


    He rallied the different states together, fought back hoards of beasts, created numerous weapons, plans and ultimately bringing peace to our land. This land has no king but if there''s any figure that could be called one it would be him. There isn''t a person alive here who doesn''t know his name.


    Ronald


    That was grandfather, or still is. How heroic....and suspicious.


    He sounds like a character from a generic stallion novel. His story is too fishy, too perfect. In a backward medieval world like this, a nobody like him comes sweeping in to save the day? Bringing all sorts of inventions, battle plans and even restricting various small state nations into a collective government? It''s ridiculous, unheard of and extremely unlikely to happen naturally. Is he''s this Goddess'' blessed one?!


    More importantly he was the strange man that held and named me the moment I was born. He''s a shady person regardless. There''s little to no way to reason around it, he knows about me. He knows I''ve been reborn in some way.


    "...done this before..."


    That''s what he was going on about, right? I don''t think he knows everything but....it''s dangerous.


    He''s honestly more than a little terrifying, there''something about his aura. It''s the aura of a man who has seen things, who doesn''t mind killing. He''s a man that doesn''t leave a threat unattended.


    He was always kind to me in my memories. He spoiled and loved Lilyanne with a disgusting amount of affection but he was...alright. Would still try to comfort me if I cried or was upset, that''s more than I can say about anyone else in my depressing childhood. And he took us in when our parents died.


    We weren''t close, but I don''t think anyone here was ever close to him.


    He smiled a lot and was like Lilyanne in the amount of people who loved and seemed to worship him. And yet he was....distant, lonely I think. He only seemed right when he was somewhere in a foreign landor off to see an old friend. But how could us common people possibly understand the mind of the great hero, they said.


    Bullshit.


    He disappeared not too many years after our parents died. Just left for another adventure and never came back. Maybe he did...I didn''t live long enough to see him return.


    But he''s here now and there''s things I need to find out from him. Things I need to know.


    Family relations aside if he wanted to do something about me, he already would have. Nothing could threaten Lilyanne while he was around after all.


    He''s scary but his hands were gentle when they held me.


    Alright old man, I don''t have much of a choice so I''ll play your game. Whatever it may be. I''m still onto you though. Are you also like me in that way? Is that what you meant, someone not from this world? That would explain so much but if not...well it''s worth a shot. There are many ways to test this out later on.


    Hope you don''t expect too much gramps, it leads to less disappointment after all. It will also make things easier for me.


    What things?


    Oh I really have no real plans outside of simply surviving, just as comfortably as I can. A few things may get shaken up and I''m sure I''ll piss off even more people than before but I could care less. This world sucks and it owes me, it owes Rosalia.


    And I''ll gladly collect every drop of that.


    ----

 4 Spilled Milk

    The good thing about being a baby is all the sleep you can get. I would never be able to sleep in so much at home, even on my days off.


    The bad news is this body is constantly tired and needs all the sleep. I couldn''t even force myself to stay awake even if I wanted to. When I''m tired it''s time to knock out.


    Well, that''s no issue for the current me. I''ll gladly accept all the naps at every possible hour. I have my own room, the nursery I believe. It''s luxuriously decorated, far too much for any person. A normal baby wouldn''t even be able to appreciate it, how wasteful.But the room has tall windows that let in good sunlight when the curtains are open, so there''s that.


    I sleep primarily in a gorgeous vintage style bassinet,complete with sheer drapery. With enough crying and motioning, I have gotten it stocked completely with pillows and soft things to the point it resembles a fluffy little nest.


    Unlike the first couple times, I woke up alone there is now often a nurse or a maid, or both, around checking up on me.


    It''s nothing to brag about but I''ve been called a very well behaved baby. Sure I''m quite loud when I cry but I tend to avoid that unless it''s absolutely needed. Even then it''s only to get attention to a sufficient point.


    I even make easy to understand universal gestures to my maids, such as patting my mouth or stomach when hungry. Other ....signs for when my nappy needs to be changed.


    It''s uncomfortable having no control but it can''t be helped, I''m a baby after all. I won''t worry too much about it, it''s not embarrassing if you don''t think too hard about anything.


    That includes breastfeeding. Have they not heard of bottles of formula here? Apparently not. Must I really be fed solely by wet nurses? It''s natural and good for me, full of fat and nutrients, I know that.But it''s the principal of the matter.


    Just don''t think about it, don''t think.


    I close my eyes and concentrate primarily on my hunger to get by feeding time. It''s actually quite tasty on its own.


    "What a healthy drinker she is! I think we barely have enough wet nurses for this one."


    Lies, there are five distinct wet nurses on rotation to feed me. There''s no way I can drink that much, but I do appreciate the ready supply. Don''t let me starve here!


    Over time I''ve come to recognize my most regular maids by their gossips. I''m usually with Ms. Gerta and a wet nurse but the young maids A, B and C are often tagging along. I''m sure they''re clearly different people with their own names but I just can''t tell them apart, thus their nicknames.


    "Shame the littlest one keeps throwing up her milk."


    "Lady Maria insists on feeding the baby herself, milk of the mother and all. But it doesn''t seem to be helping."


    "Oh the poor thing!"


    "Lady Maria isn''t doing too well herself, she''s running sick with worry."


    "If only your sister a bit more like you ya little piglet. The wet nurses all rave about you despite you sucking them near dry."


    Yes yes I''m an adorable healthy little piglet. A fat baby is a cuter baby. Just don''t slack off while gossiping any time soon, I refuse to be ignored and starved.


    It sounds like due to health reasons Lilyanne and I are sleeping separately. That''s a little odd since in my memories of our early childhood we always shared a room. Unless she was down with a serious fever of course. Then she was sent to what I could call the hospital but we had doctors on call more often than not.It did happen a few times though.


    Since she was born so weak she keeps spitting up her milk, that''s not good for a growing baby.


    I know she''ll grow up to be fine, though delicate, eventually but it''s still worrisome. While I was jealous of her receiving so much attention and missing out on boring lessons back then, it''s clear to me now that it must have been a very awful time for her. She may have been so naively foolish to that extent after being as isolated and sheltered as she was. If not she may not have fallen so stupidly hard for...let''s not think about that now. It''s a long ways off.


    Alright then, I''ve decided that for the short term the goal is to get Lilyanne''s health up. The stronger she is the more she can experience. The house was always livelier when she was feeling healthy anyways. Who knows maybe she''ll get smarter by making it to more lessons. I loved her but wow what an airhead.


    While I''ve been eating and sleeping merrily she''s been weakly having fits and crying a lot according to my gossipy maids. With not eating properly she must be feeling hungry and deprived all the time. Hungry sleeps are not good sleeps. So step one is to get her to drink down her milk, that will lead to a more restful time.


    Our mother seems to be breastfeeding Lilyanne personally. A mother''s own milk is the best sort of mentality. Not to be rude to my own mother here but she''s such a frail lady. I have a hard time imagining how much milk she can even produce.


    Since we can afford to keep all these wet nurses on hand I wonder if they ever tried to feed her. Unfortunately, it''s nothing I can help at the moment though, I can''t exactly get around on my own yet.


    "Alright that''s enough Dolly, stop the feeding early today. We''re bringing her to Lady Maria''s room."


    "Now? But our lady couldn''t possibly feed both. She''s far too wea- I meanpardon the birth just was so much of a burden on her. And our lady was always a delicate woman."


    Ha, called it. Mother is weak.But wow an opportunity is here right away.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Especially since this sweet little piglet can eat so much."


    Excuse you, I''m beginning to get tired of being compared to a piggie. I have a perfectly healthy appetite for someone my age. I''m a splendid couple days old after all.


    "That''s why we''ve fed her plenty just now. Besides, it would do our Lady good to see her eldest. She did well to give birth to such a healthy child after all."


    "Well then Gerta, give me a tad more time with our little glutton here. Just in case."


    "Yes, it might encourage her to have a full feeding with Rosalia here."


    "What a good girl, her eyes are so bright it''s almost as if she could understand us."


    Very good observation maid B, I do understand you and all your nonsense. I may have to reevaluate my opinion of you if you keep it up.


    After I''m at a comfortable fullness the maids and everyone get into position for their usual little parade and march me off to mother''s room.


    ----

 5 And more spilled milk

    To me it''s a considerable distance from my room to mother''s. But it gives plenty to see during the long walk. How large the house looks, though it would be more appropriate to call it a mansion. Employed here are various people, the amount comparable to a office firm. We''re quite well off if I say modestly.Filthy rich by this world''s standards If I''m being realistic.


    While the hallways are more moderately decorated there are still ornate candle holders, flower vases and the occasional painting adorning the walls. While it''s nothing as cluttered as say Victorian England or the Baroque style it''s no less grand andcomparable to a historical castle tour. It''s very tasteful to my modern eye. There are more clean white stone structures though, I assume from the hotter more Mediterranean like climate.


    Mother''s room is just as I remembered it, with its heavy carvings and gold gilding. Plush cushions lay everywhere and a draping curtain runs over the bed.


    On the other side of the bed is a lacy white cradle, not too differently decorated from my own. A lot cleaner than mine though as I can clearly see a bundled up Lilyanne in there. So sue me, I like my pillows.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "My lady, little Rosalia is here to visit."


    "Thank you Gerta, do bring her over here. Look Lillyanne, our Rosalia has come to see us."


    Oh mother''s been sleeping by a crying baby this whole time and it shows, how stressful. My normally beautiful mother looks every bit like the new parent she is, dark circles and all. The maids place me in her free arms and while I expected it I''m still shocked by her thinness. Is this really the figure of a woman who just gave birth? I don''t mean that as a compliment.


    My curious groping seems to have made her laugh so there''s that.


    "She''s so very soft....and heavier than Lilyanne."


    Mother that''s a good thing. Babies need to be that way to grow! You could stand to gain some weight yourself you know.


    But I know she doesn''t mean it in a bad way, not when her arms tighten around me in trembling hug.


    "If only Lilyanne could be like this too. Tell me how has this child been, I haven''t seen her since I''ve been confined to bed rest here."


    "Nonsense my Lady, the baby is still growing and the doctors have assured us she''ll be ok. Meanwhile Rosalia is as good and healthy as a baby can be."


    " Does she cry all alone in the nursery, she did cry so hard at birth after all."


    I see my reputation precedes me. It was one time everyone, one time!


    "Oh hardly my lady. She can be louder than a singing rooster at dawn when she wants but won''t cry when there''s someone checking up on her. She''s a clever one, knows how to use the maids as she wishes already!"


    "That''s good, we feared she would cry herself hoarse. I''ve heard so much about those sorts of babies."


    "Well it''s a little early to say but Rosalia been no trouble with that thus far. No issues in the middle of the night either, sleeps a good deal along with the rest of us, all the girls can attest. But my lady it is good for a child to be a little noisy."


    Mother trembles a little as she holds me even tighter. I have plenty of cushion on me but that could hurt you know. I baby talk my adorable nonsense to snap mother out of her thoughts and loosen her hold on me.


    "Yes, yes it is a good thing. Thank goodness you''re healthy little one. If not for my own weakness then perhaps Lilyane wouldn''t have to suffer so much."


    I wonder how young my mother really is, she hardly looks a day over 20. It''s very silly of her to blame herself especially after the birth and I make my opinion known by smacking her where I can reach.


    "Well would you look at that, she''s comforting you M'' Lady."


    "Ho ho ho I suppose so. As expected of Frederick''s child, I really should know better."


    It was at that moment another babbling noise echoed my own, coming straight from the cradle.


    "Oh dear, Lilyanne woke up."


    "Looks like she wants to play. She''s your child after all, it''s only natural that she would want to join where the festivities are."


    Another of mother''s maids makes to bring over the cooing bundle and places her down the crook of mother''s free arm.


    "Gaa!"


    Ah, it''s the first time we officially meet in this life Lilyanne. It''s a little nonsensical isn''t it?


    "Geee heheh bewh!"


    She''s so excited to see me, completely innocent like this. I knew it, it''s only me that remembers anything, only me that''s weird. In front me is a completely normal baby, not even a week old. I can''t help but give in, just like the me of before.


    Hello, I''m your older sister Rosalia.... let''s get along from now on.


    "She''s never been this energetic before!"


    Mother exclaimed in excited shock.


    "Of course they would be glad to see each other. They''ve been together all those 9 months and suddenly they''re separated. It doesn''t do to separate twins if you can help it."


    Everyone good naturedly agrees with words of mother''s head maid. I don''t remember any of those 9 months but I have a lot more than that. A hell of a lot more time.


    "Aba! goo!"


    No matter how I react or what babble sound I make. Lilyanne seems to love it. She doesn''t seem to understand me of course but why not try.


    Remember to drink lots of milk Lilyanne. To get as big and strong as me you must eat properly!


    I babble and make hand motions but she follows along to it diligently. Is this the rumored twin telepathy? She repeats my motions with some difficulty but does them none the less then laughs in response, a very good try.


    "Look how the little one copies after her older sister. It''s so precious."


    "My lady, try feeling the children now. Perhaps if Lilyanne sees Rosalia nurse well she''ll do the same."


    "What a good idea!"


    The maids chirp excitedly, especially the ones who have been attending to mother and Lilyanne this whole time.


    While mother pulls down the top of her generous dress, Lilyanne seems more interested in me than the food. Touching but meal times are important you know. I instruct her in our baby babble language. You should know this already but aim and drink up, closing your eyes is optional.


    As I follow through on my motions I watch to see her copy me though it''s slow..


    In the next moment though, I come to understand completely why she''s been throwing up all this time.


    Bland! Flavorless! Like drinking warm dish water! No wonder Lilyanne''s been spitting out her feedings! I struggle to not spit it out myself and start to gesture cry towards my wet maids.


    Get over here and feed us properly!


    While others may be confused I have my maids well trained and they''re quick to understand my communication skills.


    "It appears she''s just too used to the nursemaids. My deepest apoligies M'' Lady."


    They make to take me away but I stubbornly grab on to Lilyanne. She''s starving over here, I refuse to leave her like this.


    The real baby here however is happier over getting a hug and clings back to me like an excited monkey. I make the motions to feed towards said monkey sister.


    Eat! Feed! Feed her!


    "...Lady Maria, may I?"


    While confused my mother allows a nursemaid to carry us both up, only then did I relent and release the monkey child. After fighting her giggling hug off I repeat my feeding instructions babble to Lilyanne.This time the change is instantaneous. Her watery eyes lights up and she immediately starts drinking greedily. There are excited gasps resounding around the room in response.


    Since I had plenty earlier I am now just encouraging her good eating habits. That''s it Lilyanne, eat up! Mother''s milk was just not fit for drinking was it? It must have been hard on you.


    She giggles and sinks in happily into her first good meal and I mentally pat myself on the back for a job well done. I''m so glad to be a help and crossing off the first step in improving Lilyanne''s condition that I hardly pay any mind to the laughing maids trying to comfort an awkwardly depressed mother.


    "The problem was with me the whole time?"


    She''s practically making the T_T face.


    It''s okay mother, as long as you know now.


    ----

 6 They donst see me rollin

    I have a roommate now!


    There are two reasons for Lilyanne moving into the nursery with me.


    One is that it''s the custom here for noble children. Since her feeding issues have been resolved, there''s no reason to stay elsewhere. Mother has been relieved and can now take a good rest. Besides staying there would do nothing for my sister''s hunger, which is comparable to my own.


    The wet nurses are surprised but ecstatic at her matching gluttony.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    The second reason being that when it was time for me to return to my room the maids couldn''t get Lilyanne separated from me. Not without her busting out into pathetic tears at least. How touching though annoying.


    Once again our mother was more than a little depressed over that.


    "Oh, she wants Rosalia more than me..."


    "Don''t be silly Lady Maria,the twins should stay together. They''re both your children. no need to be down. Now you can get a good rest yourself with peace of mind."


    And no crying babies in the room. If you can afford it, use the help mother. Do you know how many working mothers would kill to be in your position?


    And so the nursery was reset up for two. There the almost matching bassinets were set up a foot apart from one another. One in neat white with pink details while the other one oppositely colored one was my own, overflowing in pillows and blankets.


    Time passes peacefully. I admit I sleep a little less since Lilyanne moved in. She''s a typical baby after all, bent on making noise and getting attention. Always trying to get me or a maid to come play with her. She makes a very good sounding board to talk off though, always reacting so positively.


    Mother visits when she has time but she''s weak and still recuperating. There are also social matters to attend to. Since Lilyanne moved in I see Father more often, he tries to come at least once every other day.Realistically he can only visit us early in the mornings or late at night since he''s off at "court".A typical working man.


    It''s a little sad how he only started to visit the nursery after Lilyanne came. I''m here to you know? The favoritism is showing strong early on.


    More importantly, we''ve only been visited once by that crazy person, Grampa. He came with mother, all bright smiles and looking absolutely harmless. Took turns cradling us at the time, squealing about our cuteness in a voice no grown man should have. I can read nothing from him like this.


    This sucks, no clues to gather and I get treated like a damn teddy bear.


    "So cute so cute so cute! Yes, my granddaughters are the cutest things in the world!"


    "Oh my papa, they''ll get dizzy"


    "Oh they love it don''t they, upsie daisy!"


    Realistically I know this man will not drop us, but who spins and flings little babies like this!? Be more careful you crazy old coot!


    Lilyanne is giggling and enjoying herself though, typical. The sound of her laughter spurs grampa on and he doesn''t stop with the baby tossing, it''s honestly kinda fun I can''t deny. Better than getting bear cuddled to death in his muscles.


    Only when the laughing caps off and Lilyanne and I are both seeing nothing but swirls does he set us back down like limp sacks of flour. Dizzy dizzy flour.


    I can still make out mother and grampa making pleasant conversion over tea. Isn''t that nice, I''d love to be a part of it eavesdropping if I wasn''t so damn dizzy.


    "whe heha bla he"


    And somehow Lilyanne is still enjoying herself, truly an innocent baby.


    That was the only time I saw grandpa so far. Not very useful at all but I suppose I have time. With family relations, he''ll show up again eventually. I feel that only he would be able to answer the growing questions I have.


    Right now I have nothing but time. It''s just sleeping, eating and playing around like a baby. Sometimes with mother and the maids but mostly it''s with Lilyanne.


    She''s a, uh, very ditzy drooly baby. To be honest it''s not too different from her future adult self, a little comforting to see how some things don''t change. I don''t expect any backstabbing from her, aside from the whole falling for my fiance thing. But that''s more of a punishment for her than me.


    Seriously what terrible tastes, of all the guys out there she fell for that?


    And I''m not thinking about it la la la not thinking about it!


    That is really my plan, not thinking. This is a problem for future me when I''m less of a sleepy useless baby and more in immediate danger of my terrible fate. I do have some guidelines I suppose, they go something like:


    1. Let''s take care of Lilyanne! Because fuck there are very few things I legitimately care for and she may be one of them. She just needs....a lot , a hell lot of help.


    2. Investigate "grampa", I''ll get you eventually.


    3. Not dying. Just try not to die. Avoid all red flags.


    The rest is essentially doing whatever I want. Which includes raising hell for the fun of it. What is the point of being born into a wealthy household if I can''t just do what I want?


    And today I want to get out of here. Lazing around is fun and all, I''d love to laze around and nap all my life really. Babies really do have it the best.


    But I am not really a baby and my mind wants something more stimulating. You can only stay in the same room with the same faces for so long without getting bored out of your mind. The maids take care of us and cuddle with us but that''s about it. I haven''t even heard a bedtime story.


    There''s a secret technique that I''ve been practicing. What the maids don''t know is that while they''ve been gossiping or playing with Lilyanne I''ve been mastering rolling over.


    What''s so special about rolling over, all babies can do so eventually.


    You''re right, there''s nothing to learning how to roll over early. I''m just too bored with myself at this point.


    The maids aren''t expecting me yet, in fact, they''ve been increasingly distracted with Lilyanne.And I''ve been such a good child so far, so peaceful with all my naps. No one has to worry about me.


    The me of the past was so neglected, while it''s not as bad yet as a baby I can only prepare for my own independence. Might as well take advantage of the lack of attention, let''s go.


    On a sunny afternoon, only one maid was on duty.She had just finished changing my nappy when Lilyanne distracted her to rush over. This was my chance.


    Free from my bassinet and without supervision I take off, rolling myself towards the door. The potential dizziness is nothing compared to what that crazy grampa put me through.


    I successfully rolled out the door and into the hall. Keeping myself close to the wall for stability I roll leisurely, giddy on my progress. The nursery is a peaceful wing so no servants are there to witness or stop me.


    I manage to get past two doorways when I hear maid''s first scream. That is my cue to speed up and find somewhere to hide, they won''t find me that easily.


    After rolling into the next room I take my time finding the most nap worthy spot to settle down, might as well get comfy.


    "How did you lose a baby?!"


    "I don''t know, she was just here!"


    "And no one came by?"


    "No one I swear."


    "No one else passed through the hall either."


    "Then search every corner, she couldn''t have gotten far!"


    "The Lord will have our heads for this."


    "Oh god where could she be?"


    The increasing sounds of panicking searching servants is the most fun I''ve had since I''ve been born. Even the head butler is joining in! Not bad of a ruckus for a baby.


    It took too long to find me since I did end up falling asleep. They only found me sometime late as the sun set, my lumpy silhouette showing behind the curtain.


    "How in the world did she get this far?!"


    I can''t wait to see how far I''ll go next time!


    ---

 7 A party!

    It''s the custom here for a new mother and her children to stay and rest at home for the first three months. Except for relatives and close friends,people generally don''t come by to visit, instead leaving the family to recuperate.


    All hats are off after the newborn pasts 3 months though. Then a grand celebration is typically held, something like an unveiling party for the child. It sounds a lot like the 1st full month celebration in my own culture. It must take longer in this non-modern world with its infant mortality rate... Well, that was a cynical outlook.


    Anyways today is our 3 month celebration party!


    All the household and everyone has been very busy preparing for this day. So much so that the maids are beginning to relax around me again. After a rolling escape where I almost reached the stairs, the entire staff basically had me on 24 hour lockdown.My impressive rolling speed is still well talked about among the household staff.


    It also serves as an alert to keep their eyes out for an escaping baby. If it''s not the usual maids or the stern heads then it seems the rest of the staff don''t mind letting me roll around a bit.


    "Oh look! Is that her?"


    "Well unless the younger one learned to roll too then I''d say yes"


    "Shouldn''t we....uh stop her? Or call someone over?"


    "Just a little, as long as we bring her back safe. Oh I always wanted to see the famous escaping young miss."


    "Doesn''t she get dizzy?"


    See a little bit of mischievousness is fine. Most people can relate. When I feel that''s enough rolling and exercising for the day I''m promptly brought back to my room to the relief of my maids. As long as Ms. Gerta doesn''t find out then they''re safe.


    "What''s this I hear about our little Rosalia? Spotted in the laundry room?"


    But she somehow does find out more often than not, amazing resources Gerta. Truly a terrifying woman. Even I feel pressured and I''m not even the one being scolded, at least not yet, I should think up some countermeasures against Gerta''s infamous ear pulling before I get there myself.


    While it''s our party today, as babies Lilyanne and I don''t need to do much if anything at all. Young children never do, these parties are always meant for the adults. With our family status, I''m sure the turn out will be huge.


    So our day has been about as normal as it usually is with some extra sleep to ready us for the eventful evening we have set up downstairs.


    When the hour approaches we''re dressed up in brand new matching white dresses. Over the month Lilyanne has been eating and sleeping well and has long reached the weight of a healthy baby. While previously I felt miffed by being called identical to her when she looked like a little red monkey, now she''s an adorable cherub. Her sleepy eyes shine a golden hazel while her light brown mop of curls have a reddish tinge to them, she''s truly our good looking parents'' child.


    I''ve seen no mirror or reflection of myself so far but it''s rather easy to imagine what I look like with my twin sister here. If not for our expressions and nature the maids would have no way telling us apart. We''ve been switched bassinets in our sleep more than a few times already. Next chance Iget I should try messing with our parents, Father may be the easier one to fool.


    After we''re dressed up and presentable, we''re carefully brought downstairs for the first time. Not that I can see much in the basket they put me in, safety first after all. When they finally open the lid it''s to the great hall. While I have my other self''s memories it still mesmerizes me. The ancient architecture is astounding and many of the decorations look right at home in a fine museum.


    Lilyanne and I are laid next to each other right at the head of the hall in a large bassinet I''ve never seen before. In such a gorgeous place I feel as if we''re the main display of the museum. Which isn''t incorrect considering the nature of the event.


    Mother and Father are already there decked out in stunning couple''s formal outfits of satin violet-blue and white.


    "I can hardly believe it''s their 3 months already, oh they look so wonderful."


    "Yes, they''ve fattened up considerably, especially Lilyanne. Nature works in amazing ways."


    Again father has an annoying mouth, how did he ever get a lady to marry him like that? I have no idea how Mother isn''t bothered by it. But soon the flow of guests come trickling in and my attention is focused on them.


    For the most part, it''s very dull. I''ve been trying to listen in as best I can but it''s all a repetitive pattern of stuffy introductions, congratulations and the occasional business talk Then there''s the annoying gawking , as if these people have never seen a baby before.


    "Oh they''re like a little pair of dolls!"


    "What beautiful children you have, I expect no less from Lord Frederick and our Lady Maria."


    "What angels! Oh but which one is which?"


    "Yes, which one is the dawn child?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Fortunately, there is a line so we''re not bombarded all at once by visitors. My mood is getting crankier with each new visitor and I can only stand a certain amount of bullshit pleasantry at a time. I would just take a nap and blackout to all this annoying chatter but I''m eavesdropping. You never know what info could be useful after all.


    What I''m listening for is primarily who is who, their positions to my parents, and more importantly how they treat me. Word had already spread by this point about the details of our birth, of the twins born between midnight of the new year.


    Not everyone is so superstitious but more than enough are, besides it makes good gossip in a place with no internet. There are those who believe we''re blessed or something at this point, especially Lilyanne. It''s annoying but I stay awake and bear through it.


    I''m also waiting for when he arrives.


    When he comes into the room it''s obvious by the excited whispers, the hush and lull, and then by the thunderous applause. Gramps is here.


    "Papa you''ve made it in time!"


    "Of course Maria, how could I miss the celebration for my precious granddaughters."


    He scoops us both in his arms, the only one with the audacity and position to do so. Thank goodness for that. I''d definitely cry my lungs out if all guests were allowed to pick me up as well.


    "Thank you all for coming tonight. It is with my long-awaited pleasure to welcome my first grandchildren, not one but two, to this world!"


    The crowd bursts back out in applause as he waves us in an undignified manner into the air. In this position, all that''s missing from this scene are the animal features and the Circle of Life playing in the background.


    Heehee the old man is rather like the baboon, it''s fitting. No one can possibly suspect the real reason for my laughter.


    "It has been a blessing, everything that we have been given from the Goddess. But this....I had never expected to have children, let alone grandchildren. Thank you, Maria, for being born, for being the light in my life and bringing these little gifts to this world."


    Mother is not the only one tearing up if the sounds of the crowd are anything to go by.


    I want to snort but even I''m affected by the tone in his voice.


    The night continues as expected. The lines of people to see us is never-ending, it reminds me of a famous art exhibit and how you see more of people''s heads than the actual art itself. Genuine well-wishers, social networkers, grampa''s admirers and even curious children all have their turn looking into our cradle.


    One toddler of a brat even dared to poke my cheek, to which I let out a very displeased cry.


    "Whoa careful, what if it bites you finger off!"


    "Babies that small don''t have teeth yet dumdum."


    "It''s kinda cute though."


    The laughing brat and his friends are rushed off by Gramps humorously. At this point, I''m quite exhausted over entertaining all these people. Lilyanne already knocked out a while ago and is softly snoozing by my side.


    "I think that''s enough for our girls for night! Everyone, please continue the festivities!"


    "Papa there''s no need for you to take them to bed yourself."


    "Yes, father the servants are already prepared, no need to trouble yourself. "


    "Maria, Frederick, please I insist. Any moment I can spend with my grandchildren is no trouble at all."


    "Ah of course then."


    I''m nearly nodding off when he takes us in his arms and carries us off, far gentler than earlier in the evening.As tired as I am I struggle to stay alert. He''s much faster than the servants, the trip back up to our room was considerably quicker.


    I observe how he softly strokes my sister''s cheek then her hair, as he sets her down.


    "As innocent as my Maria, no even more than her. Sweet Lilyanne, nothing will hurt you...I swear"


    And then he turns to me, the soft foolish look in his eyes sharpening instantly. There he is, there''s the stranger I first met.


    "Did you have fun?"


    I''m frozen, how does one respond to that? It would be safer to play dumb, my body is beginning to shut down from exhaustion anyways. It''s not just an excuse.


    "I look forward to what you''ll have to show me little one. I''m not your enemy if you don''t make me one first."


    Ahhhhhhhhh who talks in such a way to a baby!? I''m mentally cursing and screaming behind shut eyes while all this suspicious baboon does is laugh.


    "Remember you''re one of mine now too. I won''t let anything hurt you either, Rosalia. Not if I can help it. "


    How can I trust that? How can I trust such a dangerous character? But I don''t have much of a choice but to take him for his word. Well, I suppose there are worse ways to die, the past Rosalia would know.


    Once again I''m lulled and fall into a deep sleep in his steady embrace. That''s a sign of acceptance right?


    ---

 8 Taken- The First Incident is Here

    It has been months since our debut party. Mother has returned to society functions while Father is as busy with work as ever. Lilyanne and I continue to grow peacefully even with their lack of presence. We have no shortage of maids and caretakers looking after us after all.


    Grampa is naturally our most seen visitor aside from mother. Since that night he''s shown no sign of knowing anything, no other messages. I am at once both relieved and frustrated. There are still questions I need answering but I force myself to be patient. I should be thankful for the life I have, the life he''s offered to let me keep.


    I''m not saying he''s a potential baby murderer but I''m not really a baby after all.


    No instead he''s treating us, even me, as genuine baby girls. It''s weird but then again grampa has always been an odd sort of individual. He treated us with more roughness than how I would think people would normally treat babies but since Lilyanne can handle it then it''s fine. She''s growing quite well, by the way, her health problems are nonexistent. I hope it keeps up.


    She can now sit up on her own and has learned how to roll like me. The maids moaned and whimpered in terror the day we discovered that.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Not her too!"


    Being an unfair cheat of a baby I have since learned to crawl, making my reputation among the staff even more fearsome. The news doesn''t phase mother and father at all.


    "Oh as expected, so healthy!"


    Geez, be a little more excited about your child''s growth you two.


    So even though we can''t properly move around yet we have our means of mobility.


    In return the maids never work alone anymore, at least one pair is always watching over us. Not to be arrogant but I think they may watching me in particular. Something to do with Gerta''s orders how I''m a speedy menace I''m sure. I really have to plan countermeasures on her.


    But lately, I don''t mind staying good and in my place. Maybe the lingering fear of grampa''s little talk is still affecting me. Rosalia was always intimidated and a little scared of grampa but I''m terrified for entirely different legitimate reasons.


    Who in the world is he? What is he?!


    Since he promised to take care of me as family, for now, I can only trust in that.Again I reason, if he wanted to get rid of me he could do so easily anytime. Why worry over something I can''t help yet? If anything it just means I''m safe during these early years.


    So I pass my days easily, not without the little ring of anxiety in the back of my head but more than peaceful enough. There are certain red flags to Rosalia''s life that''s best to be avoided, taken advantage of.


    I repeat them to myself as if it''s a magical incantation as if I would ever forget them and ruin myself down the line. I''d feel better if I could write them down for memory''s sake but that''s not an option at this point. While my memory has always been rather good I can''t afford any slip-ups in this life.


    Which brings us to this moment.


    "Shit which one is which?"


    Standing before Lilyanne and me in the dark of night is an unknown maid with a grim expression. Her accomplices are waiting at various points outside to ensure a smooth operation. I must credit them for getting this far under grampa''s nose, but he was never good at domestic matters off the field in the first place. Not his forte.


    The first red flag. While it doesn''t harm me directly, this childhood incident lit the match to the over-protectiveness of Lilyanne and her reputation across the people. In the middle of the night, kidnappers whisked away the great hero''s second granddaughter, the dawn child.


    While they were quickly captured and Lilyanne returned unharmed it was a great blow to our household. The heaviest damage was in the rumor mill. What could they possibly want with the child, she must possess something special. It was the perfect lead up to when Lilyanne would present her powers, and make her all the more desirable to other potential kidnappers and threats.


    From what I''ve been told of the story the staff was quickly alerted by my continuous crying. After discovering a missing baby they quickly alerted others to search. A messenger soon reached grampa in his military training barracks. Soldiers working that night retell how gallantly gramps hunted and rode up to the band of kidnappers.


    They were all killed on the spot and Lilyanne was returned in under a day. A very tidy end to the story but her health took a dive and she was down with a harsh fever for a while after that.


    While gramps method wasn''t wrong, it''s far too lacking in my opinion. He should have rooted out the kidnappers'' identities and followed them back to the source. Too many kidnapping threats would come later on in the future.


    Gerta had joked how they could save Lilyanne so quickly thanks to my crying but that''s also what helped differentiate her from me despite our identical faces. My nature and lungs are well known now and then.


    I can''t stop the kidnapping but that doesn''t mean I can''t do anything about it at all, say go along for the ride.


    These last few nights I''ve been insisting on sleeping together in the same bassinet as Lilyanne. My baby sister was ecstatic and happily hung on and so we''ve been sleeping intertwined ever since. This way it makes it harder for anyone to differentiate us.


    If the kidnappers couldn''t tell which child was which then what would be the next best option?


    Take both of course.


    I stay still, pretending to be as asleep as my sister is. The fake maid has a limited time window and hastily acts as I predicted, scooping us both up and hiding us away into a laundry trolley. I allow her to get a certain distance, at least down the stairs. During so I can''t help but clutch on to Lilyanne protectively but she remains peacefully asleep throughout all the movement.


    It''s regretful to wake her up to this ordeal but it can''t be helped. The least I can do is gently nudge her awake before proceeding to cry my lungs out.


    Lilyanne is naturally quick to react and wails along with me. The kidnappers curse and hasten their pace, getting us out of the house as quickly as possible. Hopefully, our famously loud crying has done a decent good of alerting someone. There''s staff placed throughout the mansion at all times after all.


    When they unload us out to a waiting band of horses I''m sure we look exactly identical, just a crying jumble of babies. Lilyanne''s sobbing can get just as loud as mine I smugly note.


    How''s that for weak and delicate!


    "Shit, why''d you take both? The plan was just the smaller one."


    "You pick them out then! The info was shit, they look the god damn same."


    There''s no time for anymore bickering, the house is stirring. The kidnappers quickly load us both up, still caught in each other''s sticky embrace. We continue wailing like an ambulance siren through the cloth that covers us. As they take off I only calm after a few paces of distance away. Lilyanne can continue the alarm call crying after all.


    It''s far more useful for me to clear my eyes and keep myself alert. Now let''s see who you trash are and what you want.


    Multiple horses, we''re riding in the center I assume as we''re flanked by other riders. Two riders behind us. I can''t see the numbers in front but I can safely guess at least two as well. Their panic makes them reckless, they''re bound to leave behind something for grampa to follow. He found them last time after all.


    The crying in my ear eventually calms down into hiccuping. I can''t imagine the fear and discomfort a normal baby would feel through this. There''s nothing I can gather now while we''re on the run. Might as well settle down and conserve strength till grampa comes to the rescue. There there Lilyanne, it''s okay. Go back to sleep, big sister here will keep watch.


    "How much further."


    "Keep riding, we''re almost at the transfer point."


    When they change horses at dawn I count a band of at least 7 men and our fake maid. They''re all wearing cloth masks at this point smart. Won''t save them from dying by the end of the day of course.


    "Should we split them up?"


    "Can you tell the brats apart?"


    "No but-"


    "Then why even mention it?! Can''t risk it, they need the dawn child for their plans. We deliver the cargo as is. They can get rid of the useless one later."


    The kidnappers split up, to throw the trail off I suppose. The fake maid leaving with the other group. I don''t even bother crying at the change point though Lilyanne does, there are no witnesses here.


    It''s an uncomfortable and shaky ride. Aside from the slight bits of information I manage to gather the kidnappers remain mostly silent. They''re stressed, grampa must be on their trail. I refocus my efforts to comforting Lilyanne, cooing her to sleep. Can''t have her falling ill again after all this. I even afford a few short naps for myself.


    After a miserable amount of time being lugged as stolen cargo on horseback, I hear the change. A rush of oncoming galloping horses, a horn blowing and the roaring of warriors approaching.


    Finally!


    I''m getting motion sick here.


    Our rider slows and stalls. Though I can''t fully see the fight I can hear it in the neighing of horses and clanging of weapons. My ears don''t need to strain to hear a familiar piercing voice even over the chaos of the scene.


    "Hand them over."


    Our basket is tossed around like a carnival ride gone haywire. Lilyanne''s crying would be deafening if not for the more fearsome noises outside.She can only hold on to me for comfort as we''re thrashed around.


    Grampa will win that much is clear. I don''t know if they caught the other group yet but they''ll die regardless. Either way I ready myself.


    They''re outnumbered and as our grandfather finishes off the fight with last kidnapper, the one fleeing with us, I let out a cry. Forming the syllables as clearly as I could muster, I scream.


    "Nooooooooo!"


    I repeat it, again and again, to make sure he gets the point, don''t kill him yet.He must have understood since his killing intent dissipates and he shrugs nonchalantly, tossing away his sword. The rogue is still beaten to the point of unconscious though.Grampa scoops us into his arms and after confirming Lilyanne''s condition he gives me questioning almost amused look. In response, I hold out a single finger.


    One, I signal. I bring the digit to my mouth and tap at it, trying to make my message universal simple to understand.


    Leave one alive to talk.


    Grampa is a questionable man but he''s not a dumb one.He only raises an eyebrow at me and sighs with what could be called relief before ordering his men my repeated instructions.


    "Bind him and take him to the interrogation unit!"


    "Yes sir!"


    "Round up the corpses, horses, everything. I want a full investigation."


    "My Lord, we and the other squads will take care of everything from here. Please return with the children home."


    "Then I leave it to you."


    With that it''s over, the first checkpoint in a terrible series is altered. Just a little change made with the efforts of a useless little baby. I can only hope it butterflies into something for the better down the line.


    ---

 9 Our Quiet 1st Birthday.

    Our first birthday has come and I am now a year old.


    There''s no grand birthday celebration this time, no banquets held for nobles and big shots to show off. It''s to be a private affair. Everyone is still alert from the kidnapping incident not too long ago. While the staff has been thoroughly rechecked and guards doubled on rotation, no one wants to risk the safety of the young misses of the the Ventrella family.


    The kidnapping event ended as smoothly as last time. Since we were both taken,the motive is being seen more of a threat towards the Ventrella household or against grampa''s name rather than anything specific towards Lilyanne. She''ll have plenty of time to shine as the Goddess'' blessed one later, for now she should just stay safe as a normal baby.


    On a lighter note the stories now speak of how we both cried obnoxiously loud, alerting people to the kidnapping. The soldiers still praise grampa''s coolness but there''s the additional detail of how I said my very first word.


    "No!"


    Against a band of mysterious criminals, with my wailing twin sister, I screamed out my iron will and spoke for the very first time as my heroic grandfather rushes in to save the day. It''s an adorably amusing tale, popular among nobles and commoners alike.


    Since then I''ve been able to produce many words a lot more complex than a mere "no".But it''s the most commonly requested word from all my caretakers and visitors.


    "Can you say ''no'' Rosalia? Can you say it for me?"


    "....no."


    "There it is! Oh how precious, Maria what an dear child she is!"


    "Yes we were very fortunate that no harm came upon them."


    While our birthday can''t be too flashy, it wouldn''t be proper to have nothing at all. It is only a private dinner party of only my family''s closest family and friends but that''s much preferable to a fussy ball.A couple of recognizable adults mill about enjoying their cocktails and conversations.


    Unlike our 3 month party where we were placed in a fine display of a crib, this time we never leave the arms of mother , father or grampa.


    This may be the most surprising result from my actions in changing the kidnapping event.


    When grampa returned with us to the mansion our parents and everyone were anxiously waiting outside in a crowd, same as in my past life. Mother flung herself to grampa, crying and wetly kissing us. And father ...father followed suit. I''ve never seen him look at me, at Rosalia, with such eyes of love and concern.


    I squished down the feelings of tenderness, of hope that arise in me.Bottle it up nice and tight even as he gently takes me from grampa, holding me as carefully as glass. I bury it deep as he showers me with more affection than I can recall getting in a lifetime. For more than a day he would only set me down to exchange with mother.


    We even slept in their bedroom for a few following nights, they demanded it. So while things have gotten more or less normal again, the start of the over protectiveness that always followed Lilyanne seems to have been extended to me as well.


    It won''t change anything in the long run, I know. After my parents calm down some more they''lll go back to forgetting about me. After we get a little older, after Lilyanne presents her powers and the old stupid hats read their prophecy... I''ll go back to being the black sheep of the family.


    I need to learn from last time. Never look for love that''s not there.


    That doesn''t mean I shouldn''t enjoy what I have now. I''m already using the natural attention to build a rapport with other relatives and such. Look I''m entertaining all these people now aren''t I? So even if I get named a child of darkness, a demon or whatever shit they say the backlash won''t be so bad.


    I could care less what people think of me but I won''t make my life any harder than it is. Do remember me as a dear little child all you aunties, uncles and such. Because I''ll remember you, in fact I already do.


    Mother is an only child but father is the youngest of 5 children. So while I have many odd sorts of people to call uncles and aunties I only have 2 biological uncles and 2 biological aunts. They''re from an old line of nobility, the Bicchieri. And as far as I can remember they all adored Lilyanne in terms of social potential and affection


    Lilyanne had a natural social value to her, to gain her favor is a given. She was also so sweetly dumb that nothing they said bothered her, stupid kids really are cuter.


    That''s fine, they''re a very economic sort of people. They only act in terms of what benefits them, it''s not wrong way to live. A little more than short minded but not evil in any sense. All I have to do is provide value, either social, familial or monetary.The family elders are no issue to buy out, it''s my conniving cousins that I have to watch out for.


    Ah but no worries yet, I''m just a cute baby after all!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Since father is the 5th child and 3rd son we never had to bother with much of their inner family squabbles. Isn''t that why Lilyanne and I have the name Ventrella? Father essentially married into mother''s family line. Grampa''s name outranks everyone just by being the hero! He''d be king long ago if he didn''t reject the title and formed more of a republic.


    Less work for him after all, who wants to be responsible over this mess?


    I''m not the first to ponder about grapma''s family history, the common tale is that he was a war orphan who rose the ranks to greatness. But nothing else is known about him. Then there''s the fact that he only had mother but there was never a grandmother.


    Scratch that I do have a grandmother, just a crooked old Bicchieri grandmother. As much as I keep calling gramps an old man he''s not actually that old; he''s not even showing any gray yet. He''s still a very picture perfect image of a hero with his lively brown eyes, bronzed skin and medium build of pure muscle. Pair that with his full head of curly brown hair and he still looks very statue worthy. I would know given how many statues of him there is all around. How vain.


    Mother looks barely out of her teens as well, if he had her at a young enough age then I suppose it all works out. Grandmother Bicchieri however is all wrinkles and a tight pulled back bun of gray hair. While she has an extravagant sense of style, she''s a shrewd old woman who managed such a powerful estate and lived longer than I did. The big boss of the family if you will.


    I feel like my shitty suck up cousins but it would be stupid not to try to get on her good side.


    It''s all for my future, all for a better future I comfort myself. I''m a grown adult playing as baby to pander to an audience right now, I have no room for shame. If grampa is choking on laughter at my obviously fake childish behavior then so be it!


    ----


    Once again Lilyanne is fast asleep when the party ends and our parents retire us for the night. Gramps carries us the whole way followed by our still worried parents.


    "Tell us at least this Father, do we now know who they are?"


    "Well their common names were easy to identify, no major criminal records, but things are always deeper than they seem. Rest assured Freddy, my men and I are following every lead."


    "We do trust you papa."


    "It''s just frustrating not being able to do anything as my family is threatened."


    "You are doing plenty that I can''t. Expand your connections and keep an eye on your colleagues in court. This wasn''t just some petty ransom "


    "Yes Father, thank you."


    The mood lightens and grampa turns to set down a sleeping Lilyanne and a drowsy me.


    "Did you have fun?"


    The tone is different, very cheerful, and our parents are in the roomBut those exact ominous words jolt me awake.


    "You girls did so well, staying so strong and brave. Taking care of each other."


    It''s baby talk, generic nonsense. My parents see nothing out of place with it but I know. Grampa is talking seriously with me, just me. He carcasses our hair and boops my nose with one finger.


    "Grampa here and his strong soldiers are going to beat all the baddies, aaaaalllll the way to their nest. They won''t ever get you...or you."


    He light pokes my nose again for good measure them moves to repeat the gesture to my sleeping sister. His upturned eyes on me the whole time.


    Her! Her! They were after Lilyanne! God stop being so scary old man!


    I frantically gesture and point in her direction, too scared to break the unnatural eye contact. Grampa keeps the dopey smile and happily pats us good night. God and I thought I was the good actress.


    When he leaves the nursery with my parents he looks back one last time. He left a message,one I think was sincere, probably.


    "Happy 1st Birthday"

 10 To the kitchen

    There is a clear way to tell us twins apart. Unless we''re being perfectly still or sleeping our parents and all the staff can moderately tell who is who. How disappointing, maybe we''re not as identical as I assumed.


    Of course it probably has something to do with how I''m already walking and talking. My language is greatly limited and I can onlywaddle in short bursts but I can do it both at one years old! So if there''s a baby mumbling semi-comprehensible baby orders at you or is spotted where they''re not supposed to be, everyone is quick to go:


    "Ah, it''s Rosalia again."


    This won''t do and cannot continue. I have a lot of sche- I mean plans that are based on being absolutely ignored and undetected. However now I''m being branded as a troublemaker to watch out for. It''s vexing how many times I''m caught and returned to the nursery by a now informed household staff member.


    "Caught her in between banisters."


    "When will she ever beat her record? What was it the parlor room?"


    "Does the back garden count, they caught her under the marigolds over a week ago."


    "Makes it to the kitchen rather well, oh but she loves it down there. Watches us all the time"


    "Should you even be allowing that?"


    "We''re not forcing her, she just shows up."


    "She''s a baby she can''t just show up."


    "....well she showed up on the balcony earlier today so."


    I think they have a betting ring going on over me. Wouldn''t be a problem if it wasn''t a inter-house game of who could catch me and where. Yes this cannot remain! Their attention should be on Lilyanne and whatever else goes on, not me.


    And so lately I am instructing Lilyanne to walk. She successfully managed to stand for 3 seconds unaided and with a bit more practice I believe we can get her more to my speed. She previously mastered rolling after all.


    "Up! aaaaand gewd."


    "Ueee."


    It''s a work in progress, I''m having her hold on to the sitting cushions while she practices her walking. She can get a couple steps before falling flat down on her bottom


    You can do it Lilyanne! Let''s walk together!


    "Gweee heehee!"


    What a good girl. Our training regime continues along at a splendid pace. When she''s walking around as well and the staff have had time to relax their watch on me, I resume my explorations. I''ve found a great way to the library recently, grampa made a secret pathway that''s not so secret to me anymore.


    It''s fast becoming my favorite room to escape to.


    ----


    Soon enough all the attention was on Lilyanne again but not in the way I expected.


    She''s sick again. She''s been doing so well all this time, no signs of a sick baby at all. But some things can''t be changed from the past. She has a delicate constitution, always did. Besides watching her activity levels and encouraging good habits like exercise I can''t do anything about her health. It''s not exactly like I can go beat her immune system into shape.


    ....Or can I?


    And that''s how I find myself in the kitchen again. It''s my second most favorite room since despite the large amount of people passing to and fro everyone accepts my presence here.


    "Here to visit again Rosalia? Oh whatever will we do with you?"


    They pinch my cheeks and feed me spoonfuls of something made of smashed squash, yummy. I get all sorts of goodies and snacks down here, It''s something I just recently realized that Lilyanne doesn''t get. She only eats our few served meals on and off with breast feedings.


    It''s time to introduce more foods into her diet. I''ve been too lax about her health lately assuming she''ll be fine since she hasn''t received any fevers or bouts. When I see her occasionally feeling unwell she tends to nap it right off and bounces back.


    I would know since after sleeping together prior to the kidnapping incident, she refuses to sleep in separate cribs anymore. Occasional naps are fine but otherwise we share the same sleeping space. She''s like a very warm squishy pillow. We''ve been separated these last two nights due to her condition and it''s the longest we''ve been apart since the week of our birth.


    Since I can''t comfort her in our sleep I''ll do so in the kitchen! Just leave everything to me!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    ...Well okay not everything, I do need the maids and cooks to do...literally everything. Just follow my orders and we''ll be fine.


    "Por Lilian!"


    "Oh it''s for your little sister? Yes it must be lonely for you now that she''s sick"


    "cook dis!"


    The kitchen maids and runners are a lot less strict on me than my maids but then again they''re not under direct order of Gerta. While I hold a soft spot for her for never forgetting about me in the past it''s rather restricting now a days. I''m not a criminal on the loose and do not appreciate being chased like one. She''s a bit busy caring for Lilyanne at the moment so it''s all good.


    "Oh? you want to cook a dish! For Lilyanne? How exciting."


    It''s not meal time so a few of the kitchen maids and jr. cooks seem ready to humor me. It could be considered work since they were following the orders of the little miss of the house. Besides it keeps me safe and in their view. Even the head of the kitchen Mrs. Bethan is allowing it.


    "Well than, what shall we be making today young Miss. Rosalia?"


    "Rice! Rice pawidge."


    "Ooooo a porridge?"


    "Yes we''ve fed you that before haven''t we. Have we ever given her a rice one though?"


    "I can''t tell with all the mess you lot seem to let her eat."


    They haven''t, what I''m thinking more of is a rice congee. Something I haven''t ever eaten here but had commonly back in my homeland. This is the great thing about this land, the people here eat multiple sources of grain. Both wheat and rice are on the menu, thank goodness.Food is not lacking nowadays, hooray for prosperity!


    "Birb bone, boil birb bones!"


    "My dear Miss, that''s not food."


    "No food, soup! Make soup!"


    "I think she means to make soup stock from the chickens"


    "Oh well that we can do, anything else little miss?"


    "Onon, dat one, an dat one...an giger!."


    And so a pot of vegetable chicken stock is boiling away.Since they can''t properly understand all myinstructions I resort to a lot of patient pointing and smelling. A kitchen maid would bring up an ingredient and allow me to inspect it. The jr. cook even recommended I add in bit of fresh squash for sweetness.


    A very well trained and respectful staff in the kitchen, I''ll be sure to reward them in the future. Just listen to me and you''ll have an easier life okay.


    After the scum is removed some soup is added to the cooking pot of rice.


    "Boil! Boil more, soft"


    "It will overcook little miss."


    "You know it might not actually turn out so bad. Mushy but not bad, why not?"


    "Well of course we''re doing all the work."


    "Is no one going to question how a one year old is essentially giving us an actual recipe?"


    "It''s Miss Rosalia, is there any other explanation?"


    "True."


    "Gud job!"


    The congee turns out well, a little plain but that''s suitable for a baby as young as Lilyanne. I would prefer a little more herb, soy sauce and vinegar but this will do. The soup stock was properly salted ahead..


    "Oh it tastes quite decent. A little bland but..."


    "Texture wise it goes down easy,it''s a good sick day dish."


    "Well then Miss Rosalia, anything else?"


    Of course we must add the finishing touch.


    "Eggy! Ad egg!"


    They''re a little confused but they''re good sports and crack an egg into a scooped portion. I instruct them to cover it and wait a bit as the fresh egg cooks.


    "Oh it looks like a little sun."


    "It''s pretty good like this actually."


    "You could add meat or seafood, it''s a essentially a more versatile gruel."


    "Well she did mean rice porridge."


    "Yay you did it Rosallia! You made your first dish!"


    "Hey hey try it with bacon, it''s surprisingly good."


    "Pass the anchovies, I wanna try something"


    While the rest of the staff mull over and taste test the pot of congee, a portion is perfectly poured out. I only meant it for Lilyanne but sure, if the chefs want to all try it I see no issue. It''s a little bland for adult tastes though.


    "I go too, me too."


    No one is really surprised to see me being brought in with the serving staff when we enter the room where mother is watching over Lilyanne. I think I see Ms. Gerta''s eye twitch though.


    "We have something special on the menu today my Lady."


    "Oh?"


    "Yes, little Miss Rosalia has been so helpful in the kitchen. She''s made a get well dish for Miss Lilyanne."


    "Of course we and the staff cooked it my Lady, but it really was thank to Miss Rosalia."


    "Por Lilian!"


    Mother chuckles and allows for it to be brought over. While flushed and weak Lilyanne is looking over at us curiously when mother picks her up. She brightens at my voice and the sight of me with the serving maids.


    "Rosa!"


    "Lilian! Fud eat!"


    "Rosa!"


    Mother of course checks over the food first. Lifting the lid on the tray to reveal a simple dish of plain white congee with an egg.


    "Oh my, a little sun. What a suitable dish for you Lilyanne."


    She takes a spoonful and hums in approval at the taste. Alright mother has given the ok!.


    "Thank you Rosalia, you''ve worked hard."


    She keeps eating it herself though....Mother? Mother that''s for Lilyanne, you know your sick child? Maybe this dish suits mothers tastes a little too well? It gets to the point that Lilyanne is getting frustrated and whines to be fed herself.


    "Ahh, ahh!"


    "Oh you want some? That''s a good girl, eat up."


    After eating every drop she looks lively enough that the maids allow us to play together again. A good appetite is a sign in the right direction. For the first time in days we fall asleep in each other''s embrace soon after.


    The next day Lilyanne is mostly all but recovered but mother falls ill in return. The kitchen gleefully experiments making a lot of rice porridge though, as per request.


    ----

 11 The Barracks

    "Papa is it really necessary to take the girls out there?"


    Today Grampa wants to take Lilyanne and I out to play! The furthest we''ve ever been allowed is the garden at most. Though I''ve definitely made it to the horse stables once or twice, don''t tell Ms. Gerda of course.


    While my time is quite busy in the library, roaming about or playing with Lilyanne I''m all for the change of pace.


    Mother doesn''t agree as much with Grampa''s choice of outing locations. I don''t see a problem, it''s like a take your grandchild to work day. Except Grampa doesn''t really need to work so he''s set up his own private training grounds. It houses a rotation of trained forces, warriors, and military men and women. No gender discrimination in Grampa''s forces!


    "Why not a nice stroll? Perhaps the beach, oh they would love the sea."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Great idea Maria, we''ll take them to the beach next time!"


    "That''s not what I meant papa"


    "It will be fine Maria, my camps are much closer in distance than the ocean or town or anywhere else really. There''s no safer place in my territory."


    There really isn''t, every soldier and staff that passes through the gates of those training grounds have to fight for their place. Fighters and admirers from various lands journey to train there. He even takes in talented children for educational programs and training.


    Wait... is grampa''s workplace essentially a popular musclebound school? Oh god it is, isn''t it?! It''s a school, there''s no cute uniforms and everyone''s ages all range differently but my point stands.Do they have fight battles? Do they have tournaments? Man, I have to go check this place out.


    I don''t think about my original self or world much, it hurts too much still.


    But it''s getting better with time here. I was no one special over there, just another regular office worker in the 21st century. But in that world, even the most common citizen enjoyed the wonders that are our entertainment. On the internet, you could stream nearly everything imaginable from live sports matches, cooking programs, and binge-worthy television shows. While I watched a bit of everything with my family I was really into anime too.


    The allure of the fighting and training that must go on in Grampa''s barraks gives me flashbacks of all my favorite shounen series! Even if the fight scene dragged on it was still really cool to watch!


    There are no cartoons here for children to watch. In fact, there''s not much of anything entertaining here outside of books. It may be fine for the people of this world but I''m a modern girl who loves(ed) my phone! Thank goodness for the library in our home or I may have gone mad and wrecked absolute havoc for our poor maids.


    To save our staff from further stress, from me, I must go see the training grounds!


    "I wanna go I wanna go!"


    "See even the girls agree."


    "....Rosalia likes to sneak out and trick maids for fun."


    "Me too mama!"


    "Both of them want to go, Maria really it''s fine. I''ll have them back by dinner time."


    "I don''t know."


    "Is there really anywhere safer for them?"


    "Oh I know you''re right papa, it''s they''ve never been out before."


    "I know Maria, I know."


    It''s official, we get to visit grampa''s training barracks today! I''ve seen it before in my past life but only from the halls, towers or the waiting rooms.It''s not proper for a young miss to be around such dangerous blah blah blah I''m the grandchild of the hero what kind of crap are people talking about.


    When we younger, or well a bit older than now I suppose, the past Rosalia and Lilyanne would get carried around by grampa as he showed us off to everyone. But after that we never came by to visit unless it was absolutely necessary. What a waste!


    Mother will not be accompanying us even though she worried. The training grounds are obviously not her cup of tea from the black face she makes at gramps offer. Oh yeah, she''s the main reason we didn''t go much.


    For her own peace of mind we''re being taken in a carriage. Two maids and two manservants will be accompanying us to take care of our needs, solders aren''t exactly babysitters after all. This is the first time I''ve ever personally seen a carriage let alone sit in one.


    Whatever fairy tale dream I may have previously imagined about carriages is smashed like Cinderella''s pumpkin. It''s absolutely awful. Is this really a top of the line vehicle? The wide wooden wheels or fine horses go at a moderate pace yet the ride is still horribly bumpy. It''s worse than the hayride trucks I rode in as a child on school field trips to the farm. How could anyone act refined in these things?


    I can''t take it.


    The carriage stops partway for the normally healthy twin Rosalia to relieve herself of her breakfast. I can sense Lilyanne watching me with concern from inside the carriage. Of all the things to come with me to this world, it has to be my motion sicknessThe Goddess here must hate me.


    In order not to spoil the rest of the ride I demand to sit outside with the coachman and grampa. Despite my maids'' protests if Grampa allows it then it''s all ok. It''s a much more pleasant time riding outside in the fresh air and the hour-long ride passes without any further incidents.


    The grounds are just as large as I remembered it. A giant imposing gate greets us and I gasp at the structure and all it''s security features. It''s a very impenetrable looking structure full of tricks and turns. I know there''s much more beyond this first gate. While everything is made primarily or wood or stone there are some suspiciously modern looking structures and devices. Rigs and pully systems, rails to transport materials, and smoothly paved or tiled flooring.


    The guards are all stylishly dressed, their armor practical and wasted nothing with a smart ratio of sturdy beast leather and refined graded metal.Everyone is fearsome-looking but what''s even more impressive are the archers standing up top, all of them equipped with sleek looking semi-automatic crossbows. Deeper into the grounds I see various troops running drills, tinkering with various weapons and generally going about their day. It looks more like hardcore martial arts or sports school rather than a military camp. I can see the cafeteria hall right over there!


    It smells pretty nice, I wonder what''s for lunch here?


    Foreigners are indistinguishable here in the melting pot of various people. Some are instructors, some are weapons makers and much much more. There are even young children here going through lessons and PE!


    This was grampa''s true domain. Where his history of work, current inventions and practices continue to be appreciated practically.If there was anywhere one could see the land''s most advanced weapons, most desired martial art techniques, the strongest of the strong then it was here. This was their mecca, where they journeyed, gathered and basked in their arts. And while he laughs it off, Grampa just may be regarded as their God.


    How terrifying.


    "Attention everyone! I have a special announcement to make!"


    Cheered the supposedly fearsome man in charge of this place, waving at the crowd forming. God, he even has a working PA system set up in this place. Okay if gramps isn''t also a transmitigator here I''ll marry that stupid tard of a prince right now! Just end me!


    "Today my precious little baby granddaughters are here to visit! They''re sooooo cute, don''t worry you''ll all get a chance to meet them soon! So everyone be on your best behavior and don''t throw around anything too dangerous. No smashing, crashing, death, death threats or fart jokes allowed today. Also anyone who doesn''t make me look cool today runs laps in the forest of death before dinner, with nooooo equipment. I''ll kill you or hand you over to Geoff if you seriously make my baby girls cry! Thank you~"


    Truly the most terrifying man.

 12 A plan finally forms

    "Ronald did you have to use me as a threat in the same sentence as ''I''ll kill you''?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "But you''re the scarier one."


    "If it weren''t for the children you''re holding I would show you just how ''scary'' I can get."


    "You wouldn''t, you love me too much."


    "No...no I don''t."


    "It''s okay old friend. I understand, the temptation you don''t need to hide it!"


    "I will bury you alive in the forest and leave the 4th year students to find your remains."


    "Not the 4th years! They''re so awkward at that age!"


    The graying man that has the unfortunate position of dealing with grampa is the one really in charge of this camp. He''s one of grampa''s old friends, who I called uncle Geoff. Since gramps often disappears on adventures or just wants to visit and stay with a friend pretty often it would make more sense to have someone more reliable run the daily operations. Doesn''t that make gramps the figurehead founder who plays all day while Geoff the acting CEO who does all the work?


    All the best uncle Geoff! It''s okay, he''s a much more competent man than that insane grampa.He''s pretty skinny for a warrior but don''t doubt him, he''s a weapons master and could probably kill you in a couple of thousands ways.


    He taught us fencing in the past. Or well tried too, it was just me that learned since Lilyanne was too often sick during lessons. I wonder if this body retains the lessons from those time., I''d rather master another weapon though.


    We''re taken around on a tour but since Lilyanne and I are essentially stuck in grampa''s arms there isn''t much to really see. Nothing that I don''t already know, besides more suspicious evidence that grampa is a time-traveling transmitigater. Gee where are the tournament fights here! Challenge each other! I lull off into my own thoughts as Gramps and uncle Geoff parade us around to everyone.


    Grampa has lots of friends from his adventures but he seems to treasure his companions from his youth the most. Makes sense, they''re the friends that stuck around the longest, even before his fame. Uncle Geoff being one of them, though he looks significantly older. I recall his favorite friend, however, lived far north....where the stupid prince lives of course.


    Mother has met him plenty of times but I''ve only ever caught glimpses of him. He''s the hermit uncle to the stupid prince that was my fiance. That makes him a royalty but like grampa, he doesn''t care much about ruling.


    Since he hides away so much I don''t know much about him, but now that I think about it he''s a very...beautiful man. It''s silly, they''re family, both with pale blonde hair and blue eyes but they seem nothing alike. The dammed prince was a mountain of an oaf with the personality of a well-oiled machine. I swear he had no personality outside whatever code was imputed into him, rules this honor that!


    Gah Rosalia''s disgusting memories still make me shiver.


    I wonder if one of the reasons Grampa had even allowed the marriage was due to that bond. I wouldn''t know, Rosalia was stealthily kept quite in the dark about a lot of matters. She was either buried with lessons, assignments or dealing with Lilyanne troubles. Getting kidnapped was also a schedule damper...


    Ah, what an overly busy girl, her usual schedule was even busier than a modern day working student. I would know I was one..... How depressing. Two lifetimes of unnecessary stress is more than enough. I most certainly plan on taking it easy this time around, while keeping my life of course.


    The other main goal should be avoiding anything to do with that damn ape of a prince. It would be best if I could avoid him for a lifetime, that included keeping him away from Lilyanne. If they never meet they never fall in love and bam, peaceful life. But some things can''t be avoided. An engagement request will come, I''ll be sacrificed as the bridal candidate and the story will start rolling.


    Breaking the engagement was a no go, Rosalia certainly tried looking for ways in her preteen years when forced to spend more time with that insufferable prince. She''s a silly girl but she get''s things done when she puts her mind to it. So If the original Rosalia couldn''t find political enough reasons to break the engagement then I''m doomed.


    Maybe I should ally myself with that uncle of his. Grampa''s oldest friend, however, was really hard to find. It fit the mysterious aura around him, it was...elf-like. If I could make it easier for myself to comprehend he resembled what could pass as a recluse high elf man in modern fantasy books. Tall, strong but with delicate air, you couldn''t seem to reach. Really a very cool looking character!


    Sadly elves don''t exist in this world, though various beasts and monsters do. That''s what the training corps are there for, to band mankind together in beating back the dangerous creatures! There are official armies and smaller organized militia but a lot of people have their eye on glory like Grampa. Everyone wants to carve out their own hero story right?


    Oh!


    A light bulb flickers on in my little head. I''m thinking too much like Rosalia. Politics and playing by noble customs didn''t get her anywhere! Then it was too late for her to act on her true feelings.


    While it''s regrettable to be taking a page of that crazy old man''s book, the legend of Ronald has afforded heroes and innovators the highest level of power in this world. One could rise past the respect and rank of standard nobles with enough worthy accomplishments and feats.


    If I can make my own sufficient title or ally myself with great enough names, forget about just scaring off the engagement I could save my own goddamn life! Secret assassins? Corrupt ministers? Lilyanne''s crazed followers? Taking care of them all will be a piece of cake!


    And I have the best possible fishing grounds to make such friends! Excitement and joy return to me in a sparkling daze as I gaze about the training grounds, aka my new playgrounds.


    "Aww they''re laughing! How adorable!"


    "Hahahah yes my granddaughters are the loveliest!"


    "Why does the one on the left kinda more sini- uh I mean that particular one seems to resemble you more sir!"


    "The resemblance is already showing eh! Well, of course, they take after my dashing good looks as did my dear daughter Maria."


    Luckily there''s uncle Geoff to knock us back into reality and some sense of a schedule.


    "That''s enough of that for now, aren''t the children getting a little tired yet. How about a lunch break? The dining hall would be a great place for many of the troops to see the girls all at once."


    "Gasp, why didn''t I think of that! I''m sorry sweetie pies, are you hungry girls? You are aren''t you, yes let''s enjoy a nice lunch together!"


    Lilyanne and Grampa have matching dumb expressions and are all floating flowers and smiles with one another. Uncle Geoff and a few accompanying soldiers can only stare blank faced at this idiotic excuse called The Hero. I''d peacefully like to join the sane crowd over there, please let me down you stupidly doting old man.Oh no he''s twirling and spinning with us!


    Uncle Geoff, anyone,save me!


    ----

 13 Choices choices

    The dining hall is a large but simple affair. Crowded but lively with more than enough food going around. As much as I like peace, this natural environment suits me more naturally than dining in a stuffy mansion. I''m a commoner in heart and mind after all.


    Lilyanne and I are still in the process of teething and the savory bread rolls served are the perfect to gnaw on. The maids initially softened them with some soup but as I was missing eating like an adult I grabbed a whole one. It''s a really surprising discovering that both Lilyanne and I enjoy. There are orders to have them delivered to our household regularly now, compliments to the chef.


    After a relatively peaceful lunch, primarily because everyone was distracted with eating, the tour continues in more detail. While there are no exciting matched fights going on like I''ve fantasized it was still very worth seeing. Through the mess there''s a sense of organization here. Like a graded cultivation school with many subjects and majors that one can listen into to or join if they feel up to it.


    There are obviously parts and places we''re not allowed to see but it''s been a more than satisfactory day, especially with my brainstorming. The maids are also more than ready to call it a day, their nerves caught up to them a few hours ago.


    "Before you head home, I''ve taken the liberty of preparing a little something for the children."


    "Oh? What''s going on Geoff?"


    "Nothing much, just a little game. Something nice to finish with"


    Uncle Geoff makes a signal and a crowed of various school aged children appear out of nowhere. They''re all carrying different items or baskets and placing them spread out on the once empty field in front of us. A particularly rowdy bunch of younger boys catches my attention.


    THe main reason being their overall playful rambunctiousness stands out among diligent students lining up the items. The second being that I recognize that shock of amber carrot hair, which leads me to even more dread.


    It''s one of my conniving cousins, Phillip, and his disaster group of friends. While Phillip carries a very gentlemanly but overly flirtatious appearance there''s no cousin I''m more worried about than him. He never schemed against me, he never bullied me but he was the one who put his sword into my back.


    Roslia never trusted him and she was right, but it was still a shock. I recognize one of his little friends too, the overly pale boy. He knocked me down in a block when I first thought I could run and escape.


    The rage in my stirs. If I was a beast, if I had fangs, they''d be growing monstrously sharp right now. It''s bitter but I don''t care, I couldn''t stop it even if I wanted to.I can''t take my eyes away.


    One of them must feel me glaring, one I don''t recognize at least not yet. What does it matter, he''swith Phillip. Most likely a future enemy.


    But right now he''s just a child and like a child he innocently waves at me. He can''t be that much older then me but he makes those silly faces you make when you catch a baby looking at you in public. I can''t help but deflate from my anger at that.


    No good, I''m just baby. I have time to plan, to protect myself.


    The brat keeps making silly gestures at me till uncle Geoff sends them away, complete with their task.Phillip and his friends laugh and tug at him but the Innocent brat waves and mouths at me "bye bye" as if I could understand him. Stupid kid, normal babies wouldn''t be able to.


    "So are all these presents? For my little girls, oh you shouldn''t have."


    Grampa speaks in a teasing tone that says he already knows everything. I''m still confused what''s going on, the ground is littered with random items, from toys to books to weapons that small children most definitely should not handle.


    "Well one or two items. I missed their first birthday but just couldn''t decide on a gift. Then I thought, why not let them choose."


    "Oh I see, how interesting."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I see it now too, it''s that test. The one where you place a few items in front of a baby and watch what they crawl too. The item they choose is a prediction for their future careers, say if a child picks up a pen they will be a sort of scholar or scribe. A toy sword for a soldier and so forth. I didn''t know people actually did that, it''s all nonsense.


    "I see quite the spread here Geoff."


    "Yes I''ve arranged a little bit of everything I suppose. You can never be too sure"


    "Down you girls go then, I ant to see what you two will pick."


    Ah is grampa talking in general or directly to me again? This thing is all nonsense but I''m not a real baby here, isn''t this like choosing my starting pokemon then!? Ack the pressure!


    Luckily for me Lilyanne is taking the initiative and crawls off first. I''m more than ok with watching her choose first. She giggles and stops to clap her hands in amusement but after a short time the thing she picks up is a paintbrush?The crowed oos and ahs at her choice.


    Ok I''d be a little more creeped out if she wasn''t sucking the paintbrush like the drooly baby she is. Later onLilyanne will be called an art prodigy. She was a very accomplished painter, and Rosalia could never catch up and realistically admitted defeat against her sister in this area.


    It''s all coincidence right? Right just nonsense.


    My choice won''t be nonsense, grampa knows bout me and he''ll be judging carefully. It''s nerve racking! I can''t just pick randomly here!


    I calm myself in the only way I know how, silly comparisons. What would I doif this was a game? What would I do if this was my starter item? Well that''s not helping, I''d just find a cheat code online and get multiple items.


    Oh can I do that here? Well here goes nothing.


    I toddle off, scouting the items on the floor as if it''s a buffet. The first things I grab are righ next to each other so I pick them up simultaneously, one in each hand. It''s a gold coin and the roll of bread that I liked.


    "Oh well that''s new."


    "I never seen a child choose like that before."


    "I suppose she''ll never go hungry nor want for anything?"


    But I''m not done and the crowed watched curiously as I place the items ont my skirt. I hold it flared out and stock up. I add a feathered pen, an exotic sheathed dagger,a small telescope and a pretty looking cup.


    "Pffft! BHahahahah oh lord isn''t she''s a greedy little thing."


    "Isn''t she just grabbing what she likes?"


    "Oh that most definitely reminds me of you Roland."


    "Hey what''s that supposed to mean!"


    When there''s no more roomI gathered and bunched up my skirt, securing the items and grabbed one last thing with my free hand.


    A whip


    ----

 14 Lesson Plans?

    "How do you feel about getting instructors for the girls?"


    Today is a beautiful summer day, perfect for a mid afternoon tea outside. Despite warm sun shining down the atmosphere is very cold and silent. Great job at ruining the mood grampa. It''s dead silent except for the sound of mother choking on her tea, it''s up to Father to speak up first.


    "It may sound strange coming from me of all people but isn''t it far too early for them?"


    It''s also a rare holiday break for father though they''ve been increasingly less rare since the kidnapping incident way back. Odd knowing him but well it makes mother and Lilyanne happy to see him around more. As my relatives used to say, happy wife happy life.


    "Frederick dear, my thought exactly! Oh papa you can''t they''re merely babies."


    "At this age would could they possibly intake?"


    Father gestures to a drooling Lilyanne who is currently attempting to chew on her own foot. Typically rude of him but hilarious, as an adult mentally I still can''t hold back laughter at the comedic timing.


    "Now now I''m not saying they''ll start immediately. It would just be wise to start looking, perhaps interview and get a feel of the candidates."


    "Well that does sound rather reasonable."


    "Frederick!"


    "Maria dear, many noble children start tutoring with a governess and private lessons after the age of two. It wouldn''t hurt to look ahead."


    "I still think two is too early, children should have time to be children."


    Oh? Mother is quite passionate about the matter. I quite approve of her mindset, it''s unnecessary to force children to adhere to too much especially too early on. It''s something that happens both here to noble children and my own home world. School, classes, extracurricular, lessons, more classes, activities and repeat. It''s not the healthiest system to have.


    That is if I was a normal child. The idea intrigues me a little. I''m not looking forward to doing any actual work and would prefer to take it easy as much as possible in this life, but it does get boring around here at times. You can only play with Lilyanne and prank the maids a certain amount of times a week before it gets dull.


    I hope this means I get more things and places to entertain myself with.


    "Well a governess and starting some lessons wouldn''t make them any less children. I went through it and so do countless household and their children."


    "Frederick it''s not the same! You of all people would know how terribly cruel it is to pressure children too much, why your family!"


    "I know Maria, I would never put the girls through what I had. But lessons will come soon enough and father isn''t being improper in suggesting we start looking."


    "Oh Frederick I''m so sorry I shouldn''t have mentioned your family into this."


    "No no it''s more than relevant and my family is terrible and stuffy. and don''t know a thing about children. I promise I would never make our girls go through that, traditional customs be damned. I''m sorry for not being clear enough and scaring you.


    " I''m so sorry for bringing it up darling, I don''t mean to hurt you."


    "My Maria you could never hurt me,you-"


    "Ahem- could we get uh some more juice for the girls? A refill for m too, yes"


    Grampa''s awkward interruption stopped my parents before they could get too lovey doveyfrom gong off into their own world, It''s rather horrifying to watch, I''m no good around such stupidly sweet couples. Pay attention to your surroundings!


    The married couple''s still youthfully romantic exposure was getting too much for me to handle. My own parents were nothing like this so it''s quite an awkward to experience. I never had a long term love interest before I died but even then I could never be even a quarter like that. It''s too nauseatingly sweet, like biting into cheap gas station sweets that never expire due to unknown chemicals and loads of sugar in it. Bleh, no thanks.


    Mother''s concerns are correct though, Rosalia went through a hell of a time with all of her ''schooling''. Getting literally abused wasn''t enough no she had to go seek out even more suffering for herself, all the catch up to Lilyanne or bring honor blah blah. That would get her parents'' love and affection, yeah sure. If anyone ever wondered where she learned such cruelty then why didn''t they look at her education huh? Oh and then there was that god awful queen''s training oh crap no anything but that again.


    Such a pitiful child really. Well I''ll just have to have an extra leisurely life to help make up for it. Let''s work smarter instead of harder, I only have my mind as a cheat here. Why couldn''t some rare powers or dimensional space come with me too?


    "Our apologies father."


    "Papa! You''re so embarrassing!"


    "Now now Maria, it''s quite alright. Father means well after all."


    "You always side with papa, you and your darn hero worship."


    "Maria, my dearest, don''t pout, it''s not about that. Father reallybrings up a a good point about our girls. Surely you know the importance of education,"


    "Ha! I remember how you used to cry with snot running all over your face about how much you hated studying! It was so cute and then I beat up whichever teacher made you cried so hard....well except the ones who were too weak to beat up, which was most of them. Still I got to threaten them silly, good times."


    "Papa!"


    "Don''t be mad Maria, papa wasn''t a very good student in his youth either.That''s why papa gets yelled at so much by his noble friend."


    "Father...while I disagree on your excellency, I don''t think it''s helping."


    "I hate you papa!"


    -----


    With that typical family tea party it was decided to search far and wide for qualified candidate hopefuls to educate the young twins of the infamous Ventrella Household. TO mother and father that meant mentioning the matter to their social and work circles and having their capable people inquire around.


    For grampa it meant literally posting a note on the bulletin board at the training camp.


    "Is this really appropriate Ronald?"


    "You''re right Geoff, it should be much bigger. I''ll redo it."


    "Sigh, that not what I meant."


    We''ve been tagging along with Grampa to the training grounds a little more often lately. Not as much as I would like personally but it''s a start. Not much I can do besides count and look around anyways. Occasionally when gramps isn''t looking the soldiers and trainees play with me.


    Show me your strength everyone! I won''t bite, and even if I do it won''t hurt much. Uncle Geoff is a capable nobleman and personally taught us before in the past, it would be more than acceptable if that''s the case again.


    "I can make some requests myself, it hasn''t been too long since my own grandchild was small. But in regards to some lessons, why not test and train them here?"


    "Here?! With these brutes?!"


    "You''re the biggest brute here!"


    The people here are too used to grampa''s antics and tune him out. Don''t worry, I''ll be offended for you guys. Yes he''s a terribly rude man and can''t appreciate what he has. In the not so far future you should leave him for me alright!


    "Anyways Ronald, they can fit in with the younger trainees lessons plans later on. IF that''s still no good well what do you have all these overly specialized instructors here for? Just have a private class or send them over to your home. There''s the history lectures, the mathematics courses, writing, we have the people to spare."


    "But my babies..."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "The children will be fine Ronald, everyone knows them here. It will be like back in the day with Maria. Before she grew up to be a fine proper little lady of course."


    "Alright but I get to pick which ones and they get all the breaks they want. They''re my little girls after all, not rough and touch hero wannabees. Just let me convince Maria- no wait that will most likely never happen. Let me convince that Freddy, there that will work. "


    "I''ll work on Maria, she reasonably trusts me more on these matters. In fact I think she trusts a great deal of people more."


    "You wound me."


    I''d like to learn how to wound grampa please. Teach me that, please and thank you.


    The start of our training and lessons is very early compared to before, or maybe I just can''t recall that far back. Rosalia may have just blocked out those unpleasant memories, nope never mind she remembers them in scathing detail. Had at least 2 former governess and a handful of instructors publicly flogged after all. Not the greatest for her reputation but I can''t fault her personal code, an eye for and eye a tooth for a tooth.


    She just needed a PR representative working for her and a lot of thngs could have been easily avoided or turned around.Luckily I have plenty of experience in that....okay it''s one of the few things I''m really experienced in. I''m just a normal media graduate and employee, or well I was. Okay less thinking about the past, still too depressing.


    It would be safer to assume that sped up plans are due to grampa''s nosy suggestion this time around. Hey isn''t that essentially my fault then?


    Well it''s more productive I suppose. I don''t know how well Lilyanne will be able to keep up or how many lessons she''ll be able to make with her weak body but I''m determined to drag her through a lot more than last time. It''s not revenge dear little dumb sister, I promise. I just want us to learn lots and lot together!


    Lilyanne gnaws on her bread loaf and babbles at me happily as ever, ah ignorance is truely bliss.


    I haven''t been this excited for school since my own preschool days. It will be interesting to have other regulars to mess with besides the maids. And so before we even reach 2 years old, playtime is technically over.


    Just technically, I''ll be playing a lot still don''t you worry about that. Just don''t think too hard about what sort of playing.

 15 It was good while it lasted

    It''s here, that damn shitty engagement proposal is here. Damn it I knew it was created when we were just babies but did it have to come so early? I haven''t made any preparation to counter this, ah I really will have to wing it won''t I?


    Our family is just catching up on the news as we have just returned from a small trip. Our first family vacation! Let''s recap, it was nothing too far, just further south down the coast of the territory for winter. Of course, the Ventrellas would have multiple properties, including a beach house. Well, it''s more appropriate to call it a manor. Definitely not as large as our home but substantially wealthy compared to what I''m used to in my world.


    While our mansion isn''t too far from the sea either, it was fun to go somewhere else from home too. It was a week-long journey by enchanted carriage, the best money could buy. It wasn''t smooth sailing but it was much better than a regular carriage, it''s absolutely necessary with my motion sickness.


    With the carriages enchanted for stability, unnatural lightness and comfort the beast mixed horses could travel speedily. I''d say it wouldn''t lose out to a standard car''s speed traveling on the open road, like an RV trip! Of course, these speeds are only possible with this combination of money, connections and carefully controlled magic monster mix of this world. Most people, nobles included, wouldn''t be able to enjoy such privileges even with a lot of money.


    It''s a nice perk I have no control of and might as well take advantage of.


    While mother, Lilyanne and I relax and sightsee on the way, father went ahead with his attendants to examine the territory. He would meet up with us on certain points and nights but arranged so that he would arrive at the vacation home first to prepare for our arrival. Even on vacation, he manages to fit so much work in. It''s much more economical that way.


    While winter is not the most active season outside of the holidays and new years, father has no shortage of work to see to. It''s all administrative and winter is a good catch up paperwork season. It''s also appropriate enough time to see the land and people when they''re hunkering down for the winter months. The stocks and storage are filled and accounted for and the various village and town leaders have free time. It''s also good timing for communities to request aid or specific orders before winter hits and to prepare for the planting season.


    Of course, we have many capable employees to communicate and do that for us but it''s good to have direct experience with the people. It''s based on Grampa''s humble beginnings and something that Father quite enjoys after marrying over. Like a rich sheltered prissy boy fascinated with normal things, common people take for granted. Oi, my idiotic parents'' marriage is beginning to make a lot more sense now that I think about it like that.


    Grampa did not join us, he''s not even in the territory I''m sure. Left a few months ago on another adventure.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Part of his excuse was to go contact some capable old fried about finding instructors for Lilyanne and I but the truth that everyone knows and accepts is that the man just has a serious case of wanderlust.


    He just has to go.


    It''s already remarkable he stayed put so long around the mansion but that''s only because we were born. The special circumstance of mother getting pregnant and giving birth for the first time, paired with our attempted kidnapping kept him here for nearly 3 years straight. Isn''t that a record for him? I''m sure plenty of people are counting.He needs to be off on adventures, racking up crazy stories, and meeting up friends, both old a new. While his favorite haunt is up north with that stupid prince''s elf uncle, no one really knows where he could be at any given time.


    In short, he''s a great and charismatic general, an even better hero, and a god awful nobleman. No sense of responsibility or follow up. The servants all laugh about how the administrative and management department people all wept tears of joy and praised the Goddess for days on end when father first accepted to be married over.


    Something tells me it''s no joke.


    I would have preferred to go along with him but there''s no way mother or the maids would have allowed it, I''m still deemed too young. And it''s not like I could just sneak on a stowaway, trust me I tried. Got caught and dragged back by Mrs. Gerda astonishingly quick, even after the horses left. She''s been terribly strict on me to and fro this trip, I''ve had next to no chances to sneak out!


    Thank you, Mr Gerda, but this is far too much attention. Well, it''s not like I don''t give her reasons to be vigilant... I''ve only accidentally set one fire but still.


    Oh well it can''t be helped, next time then.


    And so we had a lovely family trip by the southern seaside and even passed our second birthday safely there. Even though it was winter, there were many warm sunny days especially early on in the trip. While the seaside near our home was large, it was essentially a port.It has many rocky cliffs overlooking the gorgeous view below but it was still a strategically planned port with a naturally forming bay. I like our local port, it has a lot of potential for trade and commerce there.


    But the vacation house is a proper beach all with classic crashing waves and warm golden white sand.


    Sand that Lilyanne spent most of her time making sand....sculptures. Sure let''s call them that. I tried to get her to splash in the water more or climb up some rocks to look at tide pools. While I got her to do a few more activities it was mostly foiled due to her own fear or the maids'' fussiness, probably both. Well, she caught a few colds, nothing serious but it was probably for the best for her to take it easier.


    Still it was fun to play like a normal child with no worries.


    My favorite though had to be our visits to the surrounding town. It was a beautiful place right out of a travel brochure, with all wide white stone walls, blue roofs, and twisting seashells encrusted decor everywhere. When Lilyanne was feeling under the weather I was surprisingly allowed to tag along with father more often on his work there. He''s a competent man when he''s not using his foul mouth offending people. It was even oddly pleasant to spend time outside following his work.


    Sometime we would even go down together as a family for meals or during holiday markets.


    It was all that one would consider an ideal family vacation.


    Maybe it''s due to tagging along with the kidnapping attempt or my own more active initiative but isn''t my relationship with my parents, especially father, progressing much smoother than last time around?


    Interesting, I don''t expect it change much but I would like to see how it goes.


    Which bring us to this point, where our capable head butler Alfonso, whose been handling matters since we''ve been gone. He reads us the breaking news of the proposal report.


    "A marriage! This early? Frederick darling I know I''m not as practically well versed in such matters but don''t tell me it''s normal for nobles to be arranging children so soon?"


    "Unless arranged by families far prior to birth, yes this is rather too soon."


    "Oh we must reject it, or at least stall it. It''s far too early for this nonsense."


    "Maria my love I agree with you with all my heart but unfortunately the matter isn''t that simple. It''s regarding the royal family of the North."


    "I know, oh I know. Oh, where is papa when you need him?"


    "My Lord and Lady, I''vealready taken the liberty of contacting the old master''s contacts and count Urderidge in getting the word to him."


    "Oh thank you Alfonso, you always know what to do. Uncle Geoff will most certainly be a help until papa comes back."


    "It would be best to discuss the terms in person. The annual spring conference will be held in a month in the midway land and we''re invited to stay in their private residence during and after. They''re requesting we bring both the children, to let them and their son get to know each other."


    "You mean pick and choose between our girls like they''re calves to slaughter at the market. Oh, Frederick, I don''t like this one bit"


    "It''s just a meeting my lady, surely more will be resolved with time."


    "They''re just too small be rolled up onto politics, oh they couldn''t. And travelling again? We just got back. Lilyanne hardly just recovered from her last bout of illness and we''re taking her to where it''s even colder and harsher?!"


    There it is, the shift in her eyes. There''s something about the way mother looks at Lilyanne, to me, then back again. It''s something I''ve been long expecting, something Rosalia doesn''t really need to see but should. It''s the moment where mother weighs us and chooses in her heart, though she''ll never admit it out loud, which child to let go of.


    The choice is obvious. Somethings really can''t be changed.


    I''m getting sold off again.

 16 Lets Negotiate

    The once happy atmosphere of this sort of idiotic family has soured dramatically with the arrival of the marriage proposal. How annoying, I was expecting much more peaceful days than this. Don''t tell me this little engagement is the defining factor that casts Rosalia aside in her last life?


    It''s only going to get much worse than this, later on, we need some tougher skin.


    Everyone is down, worried or feeling too awkward to comment on anything. The whole house is keeping silent. Which makes everything even more awkward! Not even Lilyanne''s dumb cuteness can rectify this.


    Geez, I''m the one who''s going to suffer the most in the end, so people relax a little.


    With the news of the Royals of the North''s proposal, countless of other copy cat engagement requests have arrived in the mail. None of them will come to fruition but at this stage, we''re being overwhelmed by them. Father looks like he wants to burn them all on the spot but he''s too duty-bound and responsible to do so.


    Every household wants a piece of the great hero pie and since there''s two of us they might as well try.


    Geez, I can''t imagine what it was like for mother back in the day...oh wait I can. Grampa would straight up just be yelling at people to stop asking and threatening to beat them up. Yeah that sounds about right. He probably scared off a good portion.


    Only the hero can get away with that, but it was a different time and a different political atmosphere.


    Mother understands, being raised with rank and running in the same social circles as other noblewomen. Father, well obviously father would know the most with his family background. He''s oooooold nobility, whatever that means here. Yes yes yes, I get it is all supposed to be very important from Rosalia''s memories but I''ve never been good at that sort of thing.


    There are too many unspoken annoying rules to play by, to avoid or benefit from. It''s stress-inducing but understandably necessary in politics. I can watch it well enough but I never wanted to be in a historical political drama, people usually end up dead in those.


    As silent as it is in the main house I can still hear the usual band of gossipy maids spill when they think no one else is listening, or well no one old enough to understand.


    "This isn''t something you can just easily refuse."


    "But why would anyone want to?! A Prince! Imagine that."


    "What''s a royal to a good hero nowadays?"


    "Who do you think they''ll ask for?"


    "Well typically it makes more sense to go for the firstborn, age of succession and all that."


    "But the prospect of the dawn child-"


    The wooden door slams open and a familiar hefty but matronly figure comes stomping in.


    "Stop all that right this minute, we don''t speak of such nonsense in this household! The children are just that, children. See to it that no one in this house hears such gossip again."


    "Yes Ms. Gerda, sorry Ms. Gerda."


    Geez, I''m trying to nap here, toddler body or not you can only stand so much noise. Ms. Gerda, you''re actually being louder than all the gossipy maids. But I won''t mind it out of the grudging sense of respect and gratitude. The rumors always bothered Rosalia in the past, it was an uncontrollable weed the fester deep in her chest. The gossip she heard everywhere, even in possibly imagined whispers, never helped.


    I should up the pranks on the maids, I''ve been too easy on them lately.


    In the mess that is our mail, a letter from Grampa has arrived. It states that he''s tied up at the moment and will meet us at the Spring conference grounds. I can''t recall if any of this happened last time, it''s way too far back in Rosalia''s memories.


    The Royal Northern middle residence, however, was something she unfortunately remembered. Every other year or so, when the opportunity was. It was a disgustingly opulent palace despite it not being their main home, with no blank space nor corner left undecorated.


    I should "accidentally " smash even more of those ugly things this time. It''s an awful and very breakable place to house children, especially to serve as a background in every arranged play date. Every few years or so they would try setting up such...event... between my fiance and I. In order to better merge the marriage of course.


    I give them effort points for not expecting complete strangers to just get married like that but those tea parties were absolutely awful. The snacks served were good but overall 2/10, would not do again.


    They were the most awkward moments of Rosalia''s life.


    Think of it as a series of bad blind dates. Early on the dumb prince would just sit there silently with a scary look on his face, though to me it looks more like he was constipated. When she managed to muster up the courage to make small talk or ask questions she would be lucky to get an answer more than one syllable long. And it would only get worse as they got older.


    Just to be clear Rosalia never loved her fiance, in fact, I don''t think that girl ever knew romance. All those years and not a single crush! There were too many pressing matters that took precedence over crushes in her head. I don''t think she ever had the luxury of doing so.


    She was a proper and innocent girl I suppose, even if she had a lover it wouldn''t have been healthy. Not with the way she was so desperate for her family''s love and approval.


    It was to be a political marriage and Rosalia was resolved to do her duty. Everything she did was for her family, even as she acted out cruelly or rashly it was out of a sense of keeping up her honor and position as a Ventrella. Wasn''t that the least she could do for her family if nothing else?


    How pitiful.


    She learned her lesson too late, she should have been selfish from the start. Like Lilyanne.


    Well, it''s a good reminder for me at least. No matter how pleasant of time we may have I should never trust this family. Of course, I should never really give my love to them. It would be fine to play along and improve my situation but, well, the past Rosalia was enough of an example.


    I''ve been too careless in my time with them, we were on vacation after all.But I''m awake now.


    Which is why I''m sitting here in Father''s chair waiting for him to return. Normally I would sneak out of his study around this time, there''s a rotation of places in the mansion visit and the best times to not get caught. While the library is much larger and has more books, the material in Father''s personal study is more interesting. Quality over quantity.


    The door creaks.


    "Welcome home Father, how was work?"


    "Rosalia? How did you-"


    "Sorry for coming in like this. I wanted to bring it up sooner but I needed time to think."


    "But the locks-"


    "You have free time at this hour, no?"


    How disappointing, the wonderful confusion on his face fades into a mild resignation. You adapted too quickly father. Question things some more! It''s not very satisfying watching his rections. I was simplifying my language as to not frighten him too much but at this point I might as well forget it.


    No no no, act cute, act like a child...somewhat. This is my temporary charming point! You''re only this level of childishly cute for a short time in your life.


    "How long have you been sneaking in here? There are important documents an-oh never mind. Very well, Rosalia, I''d be happy to have a talk with you at this time."


    "Yay!"


    "May I have my chair back though?


    "Of course father, please have a seat. Allow me to call for tea, you haven''t had any refreshments since coming home yet right?"


    The servants were quick to bring the scheduled tea and treats. I''m much more fond of the kitchen and serving staff than the rest of the household. They never rat me out and let me tinker around as I please. Of course they''ll do most if not all the actual cooking work, I''m just there to give selfish suggestions on what I want to eat or how to make certain things.


    They may be the whims of a toddler but my suggestions are very popular. Of course they are, I''m from the 21st century. Let''s jumpstart the cooking methods of this world, I want to eat more variety! At this time all the cooks start fighting who gets to attend to me when I show up in the kitchen.


    I don''t see the point, they''ll all exchange taste tests soon enough.


    Today''s tea time snack is specially prepared for Father, a salty and savory sort of man.


    I had the kitchen essentially make baked pizza pockets with dipping sauces made from the local ingredients in this land. You can''t mess up pizza and pockets are easier to serve for snacks. I even played with the dough and sprinkled in the filling myself.


    Father is not too picky of an eater but commoner''s food seems to fascinate him if all his staring at the winter marketplaces was anything to go by. What''s more common than this classic children''s favorite? Except, for the fact that pizza doesn''t exist in this world, at least not that I know of.If the staff''s crazed reaction means anything, the reception of this dish will be popular. That just goes to prove that pizza is delicious anywhere!


    "Another one of your concoctions? You''re not bothering the cooks too much are you?"


    "How did you guess father? It''s okay! All of the kitchen staff are very kind and welcoming to me, they''ve hardly let me leave since we got back."


    ".... can''t say I''m surprised. Well might as well get on with it, what did you want to speak of."


    "Relax and have something to eat and drink first, it''s been a long day for you. Be careful they''re hot!"


    Besides I made these myself for you to try. They''re a yeasty herbed dough rolled up with seasonal ham, cheeses, and afresh tomato sauce. If you dip them into the other sauces then it will create a whole new flavor! Take those tastebuds!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Mmmm pizza.


    For a long while, longer than I expected, father didn''t say a word as he tried the snacks. He just chewed silently.... hey isn''t it hot? You can exhale a bit you know? He had at least 4 pizza pocket, with one in each of the 3 sauces, before washing them down with tea.


    "Now, what do you want?"


    Ah, what a letdown. Maybe pizza as a dish won''t go well here, at least not with nobility? I still have a maiden''s heart here, a little praise would be nice. A little dejectedly I call for the servants.


    "Then I shall have the tables cleared for our conversion."


    "Leave them."


    "...."


    If you actually liked them would a word be too much?!! Just say so, who can understand you like this?! Geez this may be where Rosalia got her bad communications skills from.


    "Thank you for your time father. It''s unavoidable to mention that since the news of the marriage proposal and the treaty it may entail, the house has been unnaturally gloomy. I don''t blame you nor mother, you must be going through a great amount of stress and have other matters to juggle."


    "Your language is too impressive for a brat even if you are mine, that old woman would just love you. I can tell."


    "I''m happy for your praise father, it would not be possible if not for all your support and the aid of the tutors that Uncle Geoff has supplied. While I also have high hopes for my education that is not the matter at hand."


    How rude, a brat? I''m your child here. Who talks like that to their children in these times? Oi does ''that woman'' refer to your mother? Why does that sound like an insult? Damn this shitty family.Perfect nobleman my ass.


    " Hmmm not bad for your age, you need to practice on controlling your facial expression but not bad. I was better at your age but your advanced language attempts compensate. Do go on"


    Shitty father! Were you a poker-faced brat with a shit mouth too!? Oh, I can imagine that quite well actually.


    "Many thanks, father.I''d love to humbly receive your wisdom but on from my point. I understand that it''s hard to peacefully avoid a match between the other side and our family. In that case, choosing between Lilyanne and me, I understand the choice that you and mother must make."


    "Rosalia ...are you saying that you wish to marry the pri-"


    "No!"


    It comes out harsher than I intended but I can''t seem to fully control myself just yet. This part of Father''s advice is regrettably correct.There are parts of Rosalia, feelings of rage and regrets seeping out. Father raises an eyebrow but speaks nothing of it between his tea.


    "I apologize... but allow me to be completely clear. I do not want to marry the prince. I do not want to marry anyone... I want to be left free of such things. But I understand that''s not always possible, and between Lilyanne and I, it would be safer to choose me."


    "And what makes you so sure of that?"


    It''s a waste of breath to explain it all, he already knows. But hey it''s a test.


    Careful of my speech, I try to speak as clearly and as controlled as possible given my current age and tongue. I still lisp around some longer more complicated words but hey it would be weird if I spoke completely like an adult.


    "For reasons you already know. Even with Lilyanne''s Dawn title and any future blessings, it is still somewhat improper to marry out of order. The North is not for superstition but they are all about tradition. Lilyanne can stay safe from any further matches with protection from the church.I''m sure you and mother must have contacted them by now. That just leaves me."


    I point to myself and silence permeates the room. It stretches on longer than I would have liked, his stare reminding me of a strict job interviewer. Those things always made me unreasonable nervous and the fact that it''s my intimidating father does not help.


    Still, it''s important for me to meet his gaze and not to back down.


    "That is quite a lot you have been considering, and I won''t, or should I say can''t fault you on your reasoning. It''s as close to the situation as you can guess. But I must ask, the matter of Dawn?"


    "Oh I already know it all father. And yes it was the young maids, gossip really gets around. "


    "Damn, I should have them beat and dismissed."


    "People will talk, it can''t be helped. There''s no need to dismiss the mouths we know and repeat the process with new ones. They are rather noisy though so I wouldn''t oppose to a light punishment or pay reductions."


    "Your maturity and scheming are rather uncute but it comforts me. Rosalia, more than anything I don''t want to put us into this situation."


    But the situation has already come to us- goes unspoken.


    Here''s the truly strange part, instead of continuing on, father moves. He physically moves, getting out of his chair and rounds around the other side of the desk. Even though I''m already sitting in a decently high chair he has to kneel to look at me in the face. His hand condescendingly patting my head like the small child that I still am.


    So close, besides being cradled as a baby or occasionally carried in his arms I don''t ever recall being this close to him. Ho was never a close contact sort of person, even with mother the public display of affections are minimum or initiated by her.


    I can see how even his eyelashes are amber red at this distance. How there''s a little frown line scrunched between his hazel eyes. How''s there''s specks of green and gold throughout the brown. I can see the pores on his nose and the scar by his left ear, hidden behind auburn hair purposely left a little too long.


    His hands should be soft given his status but from what I can feel when his fingertips touch my face, my neck, they''re rough with more than a few callouses and scars. They''re stupidly gentle though, not in the way that you are around fragile things but in the way you pet a stray for the first time. Careful, afraid, and a little trembling.


    My breath stops, it''s really too close.


    "The life of a noble has numerous burdens, more than any other person in this world, and it''s only multiplied as a royal. It''s....not going to be easy, it won''t be a peaceful life. While I''m increasingly confident you will manage better than others, your sister included, if possible I would prefer to end this without a match.... I would never force you to make this choice."


    Hiccup


    Lies all lies, just what was last time then? What was that last life? Father is still right on one thing though, I need to practice on controlling my emotion.My vision is getting blurry. It''s unavoidable but I have to show weakness in wiping my tears before they run and look even worse.


    I swear he really does like those pizza pinwheels since he finishes off two more in the time I neaten myself up. No, I did not cry, it never happened!


    "Thank you father, if possible that would be the best scenario. But in the more probable case otherwise, we need to prepare a plan most advantageous to us."


    "Oh? Accepting defeat so easily, that doesn''t sound like my troublesome daughter."


    "Surely esteemed father has heard of advancing by retreating?"


    "I''m sure suitable arrangements could be made towards our liking. What do you have in your ridiculous little mind?"


    Some things in this life really can''t be avoided. And there''s really no one big enough ripple I can make to truly change things. But if all I have is time, I can play it long term. If I take it as a strategy game, as a war, planting my traps and playing my turns right then I can survive this time. No, I need more than just that, much much more!


    I''m a greedy little thing after all.


    ----

 17 Are we there ye

    One of my major selling points, especially in comparison to my little sister, is that I''m healthy. I''m a physically active, well fed, well developed two year old child with what the adults think is a good head on my shoulder. As Ms. Gerda would describe me,


    "She''s smart, a too much trouble for her own good but smart."


    It''s assumed that I''m just a faster developer than Lilyanne, being a little larger and a lot faster at walking and talking. I came out first after all. What an easy explanation.


    While I have yet to see myself in a mirror in this world, I am told when asked that look I like the "healthier" or "livelier" version of Lilyanne


    "The troublesome tomboy version more like it."


    As Ms. Gerda calls it, I think recently father adopted the term as well.


    My sister looks similar to how I remember she did in her early years, but fuller. I can''t say yet but it seems she''s not getting sick nearly as often as she did before. She''s a sweet cherub looking child, one that anyone could easily see growing into a beauty. Her light chestnut hair was more of a milk tea color than mother''s and fell in looser curls to frame her little heart shaped face. Those honey amber eyes were large, often times teary, and lashed like a baby brown cow. Hey that''s a good thing, aren''t cow eyes cute! Should I have used the word doll instead? No, she really does look more like ababy cow to me.


    Her delicate features are accentuated with skin that was fair and tender soft with a warm hue of color, like the insides of a sweet freshly baked honey bun.


    "You''re more the shade of the light sides on these buns Miss Rosalia. You play outside a lot more."


    Said George the Jr. Chef, who''s turning 15 this year and treats me more like a little sister than a bossy young Miss. Maybe that''s why I keep using him, uh I mean allowing him to create my recipes. Those honey buns are now a Ventrella household staple by the way.


    So despite being the supposedly evil twin of this angelic creature, people can tell us apart without too much difficulty. Even in the past, it must have something to do with our general aura and personalities shining through.There was also make up and Lilyanne''s general frailness. It''s quite easy to tell us apart when you know what to look for.


    Just not right now.


    Right now I''m just as pale, weak and listless as an tired Lilyanne. Our own grampa couldn''t tell us apart like this, and he''s the one who knows about me!


    It''s been two god forsaken weeks, going on three, on the road, and enchanted carriages or not I''m dead. Just end me now. My motion sickness has already killed then spat me back out to keep suffering this bumpy hell. While the long trip has been a tiresome toll on both mother and Lilyanne, I''m the most obviously affected one.I must look like absolute death since mother is doting on me on quite heavily. Her lap is usually reserved for me weaker younger sister but here I am, trying to avoid any painful consciousness. To be treated like Lilyanne, I must really be bad and boy do I feel it.


    If only I could sit outside on the horses or with the driving escorts. But I''m only allowed to ride outside so often as it''s a safety concern and improper nearing the capital in the midways lands.


    To be clear the midway lands houses Republic city, where the Capital was moved to and established decades ago in Grampa''s youth. It''s is quite literally midway of various nations states and territories and is ideal meeting spot for international conferences. The name isn''t very creative but it was established by Grampa after all. While we don''t necessarily rule it, no one person does, we are obviously a prominent founding family.


    Officially the Spring conference is held a day''s ride outside of Republic city to avoid safety threats and nosy crowds. With our beast steeds and carriages it would take us two hours at most. While we have accommodation there it''s more convenient to stop and stay at out family mansion in Republic City.


    I could go on about the city life, intermingling of cultures and entertainment there but I''m too sick to notice anything outside my own nausea. I have no strength to do anything, not even cry.


    Hey maids aren''t you guys happy? This is the most well behaved I''ve been since, well ever. I wasn''t even this quiet or still at birth!


    When the carriage finally stops in front of out capital mansion home I could fall to the perfectly still ground, blessed solid ground,and kiss it. I think I tried to do just that but it looked like I merely collapsed face first.


    "Oh my! Roslaia!!!"


    "Quickly get the young Miss inside."


    "Get the doctor!"


    "My Lord has already prepared and a court physician is waiting inside."


    "Is that the Dawn child they speak of, the rumors are right she''s such a pitiful little child.


    "Oh poor sweet birdie."


    "On the contrary, that''s the eldest one."


    "Eh?! That''s the healthy twin? Then what''s the younger one like!?"


    I did not collapse, I was merely showing the solid ground my love and appreciation. And then not make any motion to move.


    The staff quickly carried me in and set me up in bed. If it weren''t for the doctor prodding me and the worried crowd surrounding my bed it would have been comfortable enough to fall asleep immediately.


    "There there Maria , the nice doctor said so himself. She''ll bounce right back with enough rest."


    "Well the child is rather on the dehydrated and malnourished side, her stomach is weak at the moment and should-"


    "Will bounce right back, correct!"


    "ER- yes of course My Lord. Don''t fret My Lady, long term travel is hard on small children. Their senses are underdeveloped and get all jumbled, though this child does have a fascinatingly severe case of misbala-"


    "Right and healthy! There, he said it himself."


    I can still hear mother''s awkward sobs despite father''s warm comforts and the doctor''s very assuring words. Great job you two, she''s trying even harder now. Just let me die in this bed in peace. This is how I go after rebirth into a a rich noble girl, death by motion sickness.


    ----


    When I finally wake up from my motion sick fueled exhaustion, it''s not yet morning but the birds outside are chirping. The bed is incredibly warm with Lilyanne curled up by my side. It seems she insisted to stay and sleep with me as per habit. The bed is too large for a single child anyways.


    We had arrived to the capital before noon yesterday and for me to sleep straight to now was a little excessive. While I could easily fall back asleep the doctor was right and I was feeling extremely parched. Lilyanne is a heavy sleepy and while she did cling on rather stubbornly I was able to escape her teddy bear hold.


    It looks like I was washed and dressed for bed sometime after I passed out but as expected. It''s a little awkward but I''ve gotten used to being dressed and pampered like rich young miss, ha like that''s hard thing to get used to.It''s perfect for a lazy person like me.


    But I''m still a commoner deep down and always will be.


    I could have rung for a maid, the bells that connect to the servant quarters are right there after all. Instead I patter down to the kitchen in my night gown.I''ve never been here before but it''s a path I have memorized, as with the entire layout of the house.


    At this time the servants are up and starting their day, no one even notices as I creep up to the kitchen.


    "Excuse me, may I have some water?"


    A pitiful little voice croaks out of my mouth, ah I''m really thirsty. The tiny sound causes a mass panic in the room though.


    "Young Miss!!!"


    "Young Miss what are you doing in here?!"


    "Oh god how did she get down here, did no one do their jobs?!"


    "Shit you guys really weren''t joking, she really does just appear out of nowhere."


    Luckily a few servants we brought from home are used to my habits and manage to get things situated. Two glasses of water later I make to introduce myself.


    "Thank you very much. Pardon my disruption, I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella and am pleased to make your acquaintance. I missedintroductions yesterday and gave many people quite a scare but am alright now. Again I thank you for your service thus far and hope to please take care of me from now on."


    I curtsy to a mostly shocked quiet room. It would really be awkward without my home servants here, looks like I really have to rely on them the most. I was hoping to make a better impression here. It wouldn''t do for to be ignored or feared like last time. Negative gossip would get around quickly.


    I see George and a few other familiar faces in room and am glad they came along. Maybe they can help smooth things over with improving everyone''s opinion of me.


    "Ah that''s our Rosalia alright, glad to see you''re feeling better."


    "Geez your motion sickness is really bad, you looked like a real dainty young misses from some old noble''s house."


    "...But she isn''t she one though?


    "Hmm not really, it''s Rosalia."


    "How can you speak that way to the young Mistress! Apologize right this instant, oh dear, please forgive us m-"


    "Hey hey calm down it''s alright, Rosalia is fine. She''s usually like this. You can relax, she''s always around in the kitchen back getting dirty at our place."


    "Did you want a little something to eat? You missed all of lunch and dinner yesterday"


    "Yes please! Is that leftover stew I smell?"


    "Haha you know it, always better the next day."


    "But you can''! Please wait a little while longer and we''ll have a proper meal fit for you served"


    "Oh? Is there not enough to go around? I''ll be sure to note increasing the food budget of the staff here, please let me know if you''re facing any other difficulties."


    "That''s not I- we meant, My lady it''s not suitable to your taste."


    "Oh just let it go, you''ll get used to it soon enough. Come up here Rosalia, you can sit next to me. And here you go, bread?"


    "Thank you Donna!"


    "But!!! At the servants table!"


    "Haha you''ll get used to it."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    My hometown team is really a blessing to have, I"ll be sure to reward them in some way later. Perhaps another recipe?They''re all turning into gluttonous foodies with me lately, or maybe they were already like that? Well we''re a good match either way.


    The capital staff here are still rather shocked and don''t know what to make of me yet. But it''s better than being ignored, it''s better than being hated and avoided. It''s a start.


    Hey everyone, let''s all get along from now on. I promise I won''t mistreat you if you just follow my every command!


    ---

 18 Bored +Bonus side story 1

    I''m bored.


    As in very very nothing to do bored.


    It;s been a few days since we''ve arrived in the capital but due to my very dramatic display of carriage sickness I''ve been under doctor''s orders to take it easy. To a worried mother that means staying in bed or little to no physical activities.


    That was fine the first day or so but since then I''ve had plenty of time to rest and recharge back to my usual self.


    Father has an inconsiderate mouth but he''s not wrong, I bounce back rather well.


    "It''s just, I - well darling you this never happened when we traveled before. She''s just lost so much weight so fast, even Lilyanne never dropped like this!"


    "Oh my dear Maria, that''s because Lilyanne never had that much weight to spare. Don''t worry, look Rosalia''s been fine since we got here. Give or take a day. With her hearty appetite she''ll fatten right up!"


    What a shit mouth. You should never talk about a lady''s weight in such a manner, no matter who she is. What am I? Livestock?


    See if I allow anything good to arrive for tea time from now on father. Though it is true though that I''ve lost a considerable amount of weight while on the road. Even with rest stops, it was one long spell of dizziness , nausea or both. I really could not keep much anything down.


    I''m noticeably scrawnier then even Lilyanne! While a part of me does enjoy mother''s unusual affection I don''t actually want to take Lilyanne''s place. No thank you, fragile and graceful princess role is reserved for her.


    Normally if I''m ever trapped in a place I could easily sneak out and wander around. Unfortunetely I can''t do so when mother is always with me. Apparently during the half month trip I''ve been like a very sticky rice cake towards her and she''s gotten used to babying me. I spent most of that time asleep but I do have a vague recollection of being lulled by her singing.


    That is not according to what I''ve predicted at all. How do I escape her? It''s essentially impossible with Lilyanne in tow. All we do is sit by the fire as she writes letters, does embroidery, or looks over the household''s bookkeepingand reports.


    My only consolation is a large illustrated book of fairy tales that mother had the maids read to us.The children books of this world is extremely lacking though and this is already a pretty rare item. It''s a large gorgeous thing, leather blue with copper gold trimmings. The fairy tales are substandard material, speaking of fair kind maidens and scary things that lurk if children misbehave. but they''re amusing enough. The best part of the tome like book was the illustrations, scattered about the pages with a full cover page at the start of each new story.


    They were done primarily in black and white but the details were astounding. It was worth it just to admire the impressive art, which was a cross between museum antiquity and the sparkly shoujo mangas that I binge read aback home in my world.


    Lilyanne was even more entranced that I was. It''s more than normal for little girls to love pretty things but I recognized it as the artist in her emerging. That Lilyanne in the future will be called the perfect woman for her beautiful looks, sweet nature and mastery in the fine arts. That Lilyanne was both the muse and fellow artist in the highest rings of those circles


    But that woman is far from growing up yet, right now she''s just the giggling toddler next to me looking at a picture book.


    With our puppy eyes combined we convinced mother to allow us to keep the book and browse through it at our own leisure.


    "I trust you two won''t damage it."


    "Yes mama!"


    "We won''t, thank you mother."


    "Finish your snacks and have the maids clean your hands properly before going through it. And drink all your medicine, don''t think I haven''t noticed girls."


    Though she is a typical fine noble lady, mother does have work that needs her looking after. Even though she won''t let us leave the room, we won''t bother her unless need be. It''s fascinating to look at the details of the pretty illustrations but Lilyanne is absolutely obsessed with them. She''s more than content to stare at them for hours.


    That''s rather boring after awhile so I read to her, not from the text but fairy tale stories from my own world. We would flip through and select a certain picture and I would tell a story that could match the image enough.


    Simple things such as The Little Red Hen, Cinderella, and Puss in Boots.


    Just the classics that most everyone would know in modern day. It got a good reaction though, bothdistracting Lilyanne from her beloved pictures and making her love them even more.


    "An den wat? Aat did he do?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "And then the big bad ogre laughed ''Of course I can!'' and turned himself into a mouse but when he did the cat in boots quickly ate him!"


    "Oh my goodness!"


    There are multiple gasps heard about the large living room. It looks like there''s more than just my little sister listening in to story time. The servants are either doing a terrible job at hiding themselves or just have given up blatantly. And you too mother? Weren''t you supposed to be busy?


    Well as long as they like it.


    It passes the time until we can leave in a few days.


    ------


    *Optional Bonus Side Story Below*


    --------


    My name is Maria Helia Ventrella and yes I''m the daughter to the great Hero Ronald.


    It''s something I can''t avoid but hear my whole life. That is the thing people most associate with as soon as they hear my name or when I step into the room. I was quite proud of it as a child, then I grew to hate it, then loved it again and back and forth. It was difficult not being known for anything besides that.


    And even when I became of age and debuted in society, I was always seen as Ronald''s daughter. Papa''s shadow was just too strong, it still is. There were a lot of nobles and bad people who wanted to get close to him through me. I had plenty of supposed friends and suitors after me for only my name in the past.


    I''ve since made my peace with that. It''s an interesting life to be the one and only child of the essentially the greatest hero the world has ever known. Often times I felt lonely, especially when I was often sick or when papa had to go away to fight.


    I didn''t have a mama like the other children but I found out it okay because of the love my uncles, aunties and papa bestowed on me. Even though I felt lonely I was never truly alone. I was blessed with an overflowing amount of love to fill up all the missing parts. Especially from papa''s special person, ohohoho.


    I figured out my own strength and that if anything ever should happen, I had the largest shield to run home to. I found friends that I could sincerely call my own and made a name for myself, just me.


    And then I met him.


    At first I found him was very rude, especially for a noble.But he was a very responsible and capable boy, it was cool. His mouth was terrible but his actions and unspoken kindness said otherwise.


    Then I figured he was just another fanboy and felt cheated.


    He is a fanboy, that part isn''t wrong even now. But unlike all the other suitors and boys my age he never lied to me. Not once. Sometimes the things he said were very mean, and rather hurtful but it was not lies. He would never lie to me.


    And so I fell in love with that rudely honest boy. He was my rock, always stable and holding me up in the turbulent seas. He was a very different person from papa, but I felt just as safe with him


    That boy grew into an even better man. Better than his family would ever allow him to be.


    I couldn''t wait or let things go on, I couldn''t lose him. Many people could come and go and I would send them off with a smile but not him.


    There''s a scandalous but popular story that goes around to this day. About how I, the Maria Helia Ventrella, at the cusp of 18, ignored all sense of decorum and proposed in public to the man I would come to marry.


    To be fair I yelled at him to come over and propose to me already.


    He spouted a lot of silly things out of embarrassment but his steaming red face was really cute that day! The ashen faces from his mother and almost fiance were quite pleasant to look at as well.


    When we married I gained another name, his wife. Of course he took my family name and it was perfect. I didn''t think I could be any happier with Frederick by my side but the Goddess blessed us even further in a few short years. I was with child, or well children. We didn''t figure out it was twins until much later when papa fought Frederick darling to the ground for making me cry again. He really shouldn''t talk about a lady''s weight like that, especially his own pregnant wife.


    It was extremely painful but worth it to bring our little girls out into this world. I was so scared though, the labor was so intensive and my youngest Lilyanne had such a struggle. Afterwards she was so weak that we were told she may not survive long enough to even be baptized.


    But the Goddess is merciful and my Lilyanne survived. Even though she was so small and weak she made it, she lived.


    Even when she was stable I feared the worst and prayed everyday for her. My precious baby girl must stay with us, we need her, I need her. Her weakness resembled my own and I was wrecked with guilt.


    It was a shock to see my firstborn for the first time. It is my shame to admit but I had forgotten about her, the stress and fear for tiny Lilyanne consumed me. When I first laid eyes on my eldest I nearly cried for a very different reason, she was so beautiful. So healthy and full of life, energy and everything Lilyanne could be; already there was an noble almost intelligent manner that could be seen in her bearing.


    Of course Papa has named her in the mess the followed her birth. Of course he would name her near after his own name Ronald. It was beautiful and strong, fitting for the future heir. Less I have another child later on, possibly a son. It''s a hard name to live up to said my darling husband but we both knew our child would fulfill it regardless.


    Rosalia would be papa''s, the firstborn and heir apparent to the Ventrella name. Even though they were both our little girls, Lilyanne could just be ours. We knew Rosalia would be fine, she would make it just fine.


    I focused all my time and energy on Lilyanne even after she began to eat and grow as a healthy normal baby. I gave her all of my own weaknesses so how could I not feel responsible toward this sweet innocent child.


    Months later when we awoken to the servants screaming and our babies gone I felt my heart stop.Our poor babies, both of them helpless, stolen away into the night. One moment they were here, just fine and then...


    Thank the Goddess we found them, Papa found them and brought them home safe and sound. How foolish we were to assume things, to not protect them enough. They fell ill with a fever that night till dawn and didn''t leave our sights, added security or not.


    We were left terrified for them. Frederick even started sleeping with a weapon under his pillow again, that nasty habit. His protectiveness multiplied to an extreme extent, I can''t fault him.


    .


    It was a harsh lesson I pray we never have to experience ever again.


    Eventually our peaceful lives returned though we were sure to prevent such a threat from getting near. I suppose afterwards that I continued to be even more worried over Lilyanne. She was much slower to grow than her older sister.


    Rosalia took after her papa and grandpapa of course. Her scrunched up face as she repeats her favorite word "no" is beyond all doubt Frederick''s face. They even have the same pout and eyebrows. But there''s something about her, something that I still can''t identify, feels exactly like papa.


    Ah as I thought, this child really will be fine.


    She''s strong, I won''t need to worry about her. Just like Papa and Frederick, it''s okay if it''s Rosalia.


    I regret such thoughts now as I hold my crying girl, trying to comfort her to sleep. Rosalia doesn''t travel well I know that but it''s especially bad now.


    I was prepared for Lilyanne to catch a chill and perhaps fall ill on the trip up north, not Roslaia. She''s suffering so much, it seems she inherited my intense childhood motion sickness. Magic has advanced since then but my baby girl is still so small.


    She won''t eat in fear of her sickness and what we can feed her comes right back out. It''s been going on days now and her health is rapidly declining.


    The best option is to lay down eyes closed as if to sleep away the pain. I don''t need the maids to tell me that it''s better for someone to hold her steady. She cries less in my arms, but that''s not the sole reason I keep her with me.


    My poor Rosalia cries in her sleep and I realize that she truly is my foolish Frederick''s child. They''re both so stubborn. They can bluntly speak their thoughts but not their true feelings.


    "It hurts, it hurts so much."


    "There there, mommy''s here, sleep now honey."


    "Mommy it hurts."


    "I know dear, I know."


    "It hurts, why is it always Lilyanne... I''m here too, please see me too. It really hurts so bad."


    I can''t help the streaming tears that overcome me. My eldest has never called me ''mommy'' before when she''s awake but is crying it so pitifully now.She must keep all her loneliness and hurt bottled up inside her. Just like my Frederick did back then. Just like I used to feel.


    How shameful, I''m crying even more than my own sick child.


    "There there, mommy is here. Mommy''s sorry, mommy knows now."


    Oh this hopeless child, it can''t be helped, I''m the same way in the end.


    ----

 19 Sneak out Mess up

    After nearly a week of being cooped up we''re finally heading out of Republic city to the meeting ground. It''s something I both look forward to and dread.


    Obviously the immediate benefit is that I can finally escape mother. I don''t remember it but I''m sorry for being such a sticky rice cake when I was sick! I won''t do it any more so please release me!


    The good news is that mother will not be coming with us today, she still has much to do back in the capital home. Besides she won''t be directly speaking at the conference like Father will be doing.


    I can acknowledge the respect that father has shown me for not discounting my plans and opinions on the matter. He could easily dismiss, or more reasonably be frightened of, a two year old child and their thoughts. I wonder what sort of charmed life he''s lived to be so quick to adapt. It must have been a pretty awful one knowing the Bicchieris.


    The current plan, if an official engagement is unavoidable, is to make an easy exit route with as many benefits for our side as possible. While the other side could request for a choice between both Lilyanne and I it would be more than improper to keep us on hold for an extended amount of time. Though not as powerful individually, the various noble houses and neighboring states would have a fit. Though we won''t push it but by all reason such an engagement match should go to me by default


    The previous Rosalia saw it as both her duty and a sacrifice. She wrecked herself beyond her limit and got nothing in return but her own suffering. Silly girl , putting too much of herself in the wrong people and places.


    I don''t intend to repeat any of that.


    This time around is more of a damage control plan. There were various clauses that could be redirected or added on to our benefit, including reduced tax territories and undiscovered resources. Dungeon spots especially. The Ventrella benefits are my own after all, not the other way around.


    The stupid prince and I will more likely than not still be engaged regardless. But this time I''ll keep it in name and title only. If anything where to change in the future, there should be wiggle room to negotiate on both sides both sides. That''s more time to figure things out and save my hide.


    All I have now is time and insider information, which is still the most useful type of information. If I don''t use it now to prepare Father and company , then when? With my help we know exactly what they''re asking and can come prepared. Of course I said it more like:


    "They will probably request for this or that." or " It''s a likely chance they will bring up these uncharted land and change this policy."


    Father will present them as his own research and ideas to cover for me. He could have come up with them on his own with enough time but why wait for these advantages to expire? As rude as he is I''m fully confident in his abilities in court, he''ll be elected prime minster soon after all.


    Shame he died so soon.


    Oh I should probably do something about that. There would be more advantages to keep my parents alive. Well that''s still too far off in the future. I have about 8 years to worry about that. This is now.


    Even though I don''t like the stupid prince I can respect his power, especially in the future. The Heinrich do not have to be my enemies. They were Rosalia''s even though she was determined to marry into them, if only for duty.


    If only she knew who the real enemy was.


    What does it matter, everyone was Roalisa''s enemy in this world. I don''t intend to repeat her course but it doesn''t hurt let some things come naturally. When you can''t change or beat something, work around it.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Which is why we''ve snuck out from the carriage when we arrived!


    Who is the we? Why my precious little sister and I of course. Who else could I grab along? True the furthest that Lilyanne has ever followed me in my escapes is the garden but she has gotten considerably bolder over winter holiday by the sea. I''m very proud at how much braver and more adventurous she''s gotten!


    "Waaaah Rosa don''t weave me! Rosa! Rosa don''t go!"


    Er okay fine she''s not that brave yet, she''s just very attached to me. Like a baby cow- er I mean duckling.She''ll get there eventually, she just needs a lot more exposure. Fighting Lilyanne!


    "Hic Rosa I come too, Hic hic wait for meeeeee."


    "You can do it Lilyanne! Follow me"


    "Rosa!


    "You made it!"


    Her tears immediately turn into all smiles when she falls into my waiting arms. You really can''t trust this girl''s tears, they flow like a water fountain. She just turns them on and off as she likes. What a terrifying skill fit for a female lead!


    Right now though she is sincerely just a crybaby. It''s a natural skill, I couldn''t imitate it even if I tried. These beautiful snotty tears are the first arrows to strike the cold dead heart of that stupid prince!


    He and I met between the legs of our parents in a grand hall. We were forced to curtsy and bow to each other then cornered into a room for a full silent hour. That is the official first meeting between the northern prince and the eldest Ventrella twin.


    The younger one however is a tale of puppy love so sweet it would give even the most seasoned war veterans diabetes. Which reminds me, I want to eat some sweets. Sugar is too expensive in this world. Well I steal some from the tea party later.


    Back to the stupid prince being my sister''s creepy stalker! Yes even as a child he was already such a terrible creature.


    One day Lilyanne got separated and lost while in this territory and wandered into the woods behind the gardens. In a bed of just budding spring flowers she collapses and cried her sweet little tears.


    Her crying was so awfully loud, I mean just pitiful, that the stupid prince decided to stop being a rock for one minute and go see what the commotion was. They say it was love at first sight. The stupid prince came to the little princess to be and rescued her back home. From that day on whenever he heard her crying he would come running. Despite his cold indifference to others, since that moment she was the soft spot in his heart.


    Ah I''m really craving something sweet after that cavity inducing story.


    I imagine the stupid prince, like some protagonist in a teen romance, would cry pathetically into his pillow at night over how he got engaged to the wrong twin. It''s not a joke but reality, Lilyanne told me that he confessed to her how he used to do that.


    What a foolish man. Couldn''t he have just told someone straight out. Nooooooo he had to harbor a secret love story in his heart and go crazy with it later. Oh woe is him, if only Rosalia wasn''t here blah blah blah.


    There''s this thing called healthy communication and everyone should try it sometimes.


    I don''t know how such a stupid person did as king, I kind of died before finding out if he run this country down to the ground or not. Which would be bad if Lilyanne stayed by his side. She''s so dumb and in love she probably did marry him, eventually.


    I need that stupid prince to understand that not only is he an absolute baboon of a man child at any age but that Lilyanne and I are linked. We''re a package deal called family. I was so focused on trying to either get out of being wife and then training to be a good one that I never got the chance to be the sister in law from hell!


    A much better role than the rival second female.


    Isn''t it a sister in law''s job to interfere and threaten her sibling''s significant other? I just need to ruin their little first meeting by tagging along and maybe beat the prince up a bit. You know before we''re officially engaged and then I won''t get in, as much, trouble over it.


    So today we''re getting "lost" in these part of the woods.It''s actually quite nearby to the gardens if you know the way, it''s all perfectly safe. We''re going find him being a rock ''training'' with his sword practice somewhere and whatever happens won''t be a sugar rush love at first sight moment for these two. Who knows, maybe I''ll even save Lilyanne from catching feeling for the baby stupid prince!


    It''s a very simple plan, a lot flexibility. So why are things going wrong?


    "AHHHHHH MONSTA!!!! WAAAAAHHH "


    "Run Lilyanne go, up here."


    "Papa! Mama! Hewp!"


    "I got you Lilyanne, Come on up you go, climb up and stay there!"


    "Rosa!!! No Rosa!!! "


    "Stay there!"


    Okay don''t panic. Lilyanne is safe up in a tree. A hoard of spiky rock things are coming this way. And I''m a literal 2 year old without any weapons or powers.


    Why do things never go as planned?


    -----

 20 Armored Riverstone Spiders? Hey wait-

    If I was the hero to my own story this would be the moment that I would gain powers of my own. Something would unlock, a magical weapon activates, the force inside and around me awakening.


    Ha! It sure would be nice to be a hero. But nope, this is the body of a normal child. A healthy one but a pretty normal one regardless. No magical enhancements here! Hey Lilyanne, if you could turn on your female lead powers a bit, just enough to get us out of this, that would be great.


    Seriously I can take like what 2 or 3 of these things with my tree branch. But that''s a waste of time and energy. There''s no way I would be able to defeat more than a couple of these things. There''s a shitty thing about these creatures, when they die they turn to literal rocks. Just straight up stone.


    No squish, just annoyingly hard rocks.


    Rosalia has lived a charmed life. She''s well traveled, well educated and well read. She has no f****** idea what these things are!


    All I know is what I see now, they''re moving rocks with pincers. There''s no point in killing them, especially if they swarm. I throw away the tree branch for another one with much fuller leaves still attached.


    Yes you guessed right. I''m going to sweep them.


    Off you go little guys, don''t come over here. Sheesh honestly they''re not so bad. If you just sweep them away they scuttle along on their path. We just happened to get caught up in that path, like a giant migrationroute. Maybe it''s a spring thing for these creatures, are they local?


    We''re not in any danger since I discovered the secret of sweeping. Take that rock crabs, I am well versed in the art of sweeping. Trained and practiced for many years as a commoner who does house chores! Put your legs into it, find the right angles and use momentum to conserve energy!


    You rock crabs are nothing compared to fall leaves or worse....shoveling snow.


    Despite having the situation rather under control, Lilyanne is up there crying like a cat stuck in the tree. If the cat was a screaming toddler that is.Is she even breathing through all that crying?


    "Waaaah hellllp! wwwwwwah heeeeeelp! booo hoooo"


    "Lilyanne you''re fine"


    "Waaah Rosa! Pwease! Waaaahwaah heeeeeelp!"


    "Lily please, it''s really ok look. I''m sweeping them away, look a nice crab free circle!"


    While the pincers and hard spiked shells look concerning to sensitive baby soft flesh, we can make a path pretty easily. Just sweep and avoid the strays. Shake off the bush broom once in awhile.


    "Are you alright!?"


    Oh shit, this cannot be happening.


    "Hic hewps pwease waaaah!"


    "Get away from her!"


    A child just a bit bigger than me appears at the edge of the clearing. He rushes in with a toy sword like a little fool, his fluffy coat fluttering uselessly behind him. How gallent.


    And the stupid prince come to the rescue of the crying princess still. Some things really can''t be changed. I think I messed up the setting pretty well though. Migrating hoard of rock crabs doesn''t sound quite as romantic as a field of flowers.


    Still I''m sure this will be a very fond memory for them in the future, it''s very dramatic. Well I tried.


    "Beasts I''ll get you! Take that and that."


    Oh very heroic, his wooden sword is just as effective as my tree branch! And that makes two, two dead rock crabs out of what, several thousand? Lilyanne must absolutely be swooning up there in her diapers.


    "Waaaaaahhhhh! Somebody hewp us!!! Bwaaaaaahhhhh."


    "Lilyanne stop crying right now! You''re fine, we''re fine!"


    That''s when the baby stupid prince finally notices me. Ridiculous considering how I''m literally standing a few feet in front of him. Hey it''s a metaphor for our relationship! Ah I amuse myself.


    "Two of them? You, get away from there, it''s dangerous! "


    "Uh huh, sure it is."


    I make an exaggerated display of my previous sweeping to get my point across. Might as well make a bigger clearing for Lilyanne, geez what a crybaby. And they call me the loud one?


    "The riverrock spiders! That speed! How are you defeating so many of them like that?!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Is he pulling my leg or is baby stupid prince really that stupid? You know what nevermind, I overestimated him, my bad.


    I ignore him in favor of coaxing Lilyanne down.


    "Lily look I got rid of so many! It''s super safe now!"


    "Hic reawy?"


    "Yes really! look I can sweep them away with one hand! Stay with me and you''ll be super safe."


    "But... scawy"


    "It''s not too scary with me right? You do trust big sister?"


    "Mmm! Rosa!"


    "Good, here come on down. I got you, you won''t fall."


    She''s a surprisingly good climber though she needs a little more help coming down. It''s always scarier coming down so I climb up halfway to support her. The dull sound of rock thumping is still going on behind me, the stupid prince still must be there.


    "Ack! ow ow ow!"


    And one of them got him in the hand! Good job crabby! Oh he''s handicapped, another one pinches him by the ankle. They''re beginning to swarm since he keeps attacking them. This is absolutely great!


    "Rosa! Save him"


    Aww do I have to? I know it would probably be wise to make a good impression on the stupid prince but it''s just so amusing. It''s not like he did anything as I lay dying in my own cooling blood. This is nothing!


    Oh alright fine, I''ll go save your dammed stupid boyfriend, stop making those eyes at me.


    "Don''t fight them, they''ll turn aggressive if you kill too many!"


    I learned that the hard way but after throwing away their companions rock corpses into the distance they scattered in the flow of traffic.


    "Sweep them away with your sword. I''m coming."


    The pinched up baby prince tries following my instructions but he''s not very coordinated with the numerous crabs pinched on him. I wish I had a camera.


    They''re mostly on his clothes, it looks much worse than it really is. The one that got him on the finger though, ow ow okay even I feel a little bad at that. Well time to speed up the sweeping, I''m almost there to save him.


    Wow I never thought there come a day I would be saving the stupid prince. His huge body builder muscles weren''t for show and paired with his stern training he was an immovable wall. The stupid prince was a muscle head but he was a strong one, I''ll give him that.


    Right now though he''s just a spoiled 3 year old with a stupid hat, a stupid wooden sword and a lot of crabs clinging onto him. I''ll treasure this moment and remember it always. This is already a great improvement to our own first meeting!


    Lilyanne clings to me the whole time as I sweep a path. I grab the flailing prince by the back of his shirt and drag him behind me as I continue to sweep us out of the crabs'' way.


    When we''re far away enough I take a quick breather. Time to free him of some of those crabs, my bush broom is the perfect tool for various things.


    Oh this part I will enjoy.


    Turning around ready to smack those crabs and the wonderfully attatch stupid prince I am greeted with a tender sight. Lilyanne carefully holding on to the crab on his finger, trying to wiggle it out if it''s painful hold. The boy wincing in a mix of pain and gratefulness.


    I look away for just one moment to make a path and they''re already having their first date moment behind my back. Typical.


    "Ow ow ow"


    Well might as well sit back and watch, I''ve done my part."


    "Got it!"


    "Ugh wheeew, thank you."


    "R you ok?"


    No he''s not okay, he''s very clearly crying. Not as much as Lilyanne does but she''s a natural water fountain. He''s not bleeding at least but that finger may need a stint and a bandage.


    "....yes. I''ll be kay. Were you hurt?"


    "No but it was scawy. U fight so many."


    "...Thank you. But-"


    He turns to me and the spell is suddenly broken. It''s as if they just noticed I was here the whole time, you know the one cleaning up the crabs. It''s expected to be the third wheel with this pair but how annoying. They just met!


    "Thank you for saving me from the armored spider hoard! Your technique was really great!"


    "Spider hoard? Is that what those things were?"


    "Yes! We''re told not to go near the river at this time of year when they cross! But I heard screaming and had to see what was wrong."


    "Are you sure they''re not crabs? But yeah that''s Lilyanne'' crying alright."


    "What are crabs?"


    "Um, tank you for comin. I''m sowy u got hurt."


    Oh god is he blushing? What is with this pink atmosphere?! They''re literal babies! Ok that''s enough of that, time to ruin the mood.


    "You jumped in and tried smashing a bunch of pinching rocks! That''s just dumb! Here, I''ll hold your sword. You shouldn''t move young finger or hand for awhile. Try to keep it held up."


    "Er thank you, like this?"


    "Right just like that, until you get back to the healers."


    "Yes my home is this way."


    He makes to lead for once and I let him. I''m not supposed to know this area yet. It''s smarter to play dumb.


    "Are you from around here? Since you know about the crabs you called armored spiders?"


    "Not really. My family owns a place here but I really live further away."


    "Us too! we live far away!"


    "I see, Lilyanne was it?"


    "Yep! I''m Lilian! And dis is my Rosa!"


    "My name is Rosalia and this is my younger twin sister Lilyanne. We''re from the south and visiting with our family."


    "I see. Pleased to meet you Rosalia, Lilyanne. I am Erik Heinrich of the Northern Territories."


    To me though you''ll always be stupid prince. Don''t think I missed that blushing at my sister, you''re really going to have to work to be called brother in law. And I mean reeeeeeaaaallllly work.


    I still absolutely hate you after all!


    --------


    Bonus afterwards short:


    -------


    "And these will get them off faster?"


    "Yes absolutely! Go for it."


    When we arrived back to the residence a crew of frantic servants were looking for Lilyanne and I. The commotion got even worse when we were discovered with the little prince covered head to toe in as they called, armored river rock spiders.


    What''s wrong with just crabs?


    "Your majesty!"


    "Oh dear what is this?!" You''re absolutely covered in those vile monsters"


    "Get the cleavers, those darn hell spiders. I just hate this time of year."


    "Please wait."


    This is bothering me too much, I have to confirm it for myself.


    "Pardon my intrusion but I know a much better way to remove these creatures."


    "Little miss?"


    "Rosalia. Rosalia Therese Ventrella. Yes down south at home we have a similar creature though they don''t hoard at any season. We must prepare a pot of boiling water to treat this!"


    "Hot water you say?"


    "Yes hot water! Salted would make it even hotter. It wil come off easier then them turning to rocks."


    I have no idea what I''m saying, it''s just a hunch. But the servants set off when stupid prince Erik gives the ok. My own accompanying staff however are weary but ready.


    "Is there anything else Miss Rosalia? "


    "Some seating and a table to wait outside. Small clippers or shears, clean ones. Some lemon or citrus if you can find it. Extra salt and pepper. Hmm and some butter."


    "Of course Miss Rosalia."


    I''m sure they''re already catching on to my plan, they''re very well trained to my whims. Should I have asked to bread too? They make great dipping with the butter.


    "What are those other things for?"


    "Oh well the butter is to help ease the pinching, makes it slippery."


    "Ah I see."


    When the hot salted water is boiling the servants are quick and ready with a change of clothes for the stupid crabby prince. What article of outer clothing that can be removed already has. But for some more sensitive areas I instruct him to drip the dangling creatures into the boiling water. Since I can''t boil him alive it''s with the the help of some manservants.


    "Amazing! It works, they drop right off!"


    I sure hope it works, lunch is depending on it.


    "Of course it works, go ahead and get them all into the pot.No need to dip the clothes. Yes just lower those little buggers in."


    Prince Erik and his servants are amazed at the technique to clean up their armored spider infestations. I''m glad they let go but the real questions to be answered is, will they cook?


    "Alright that''s that."


    "Wait, don''t dump them out yet, they must be boiled for another few minutes."


    "Why is that Rosalie?"


    Don''t worry about it stupid prince, geez you sure are talkative when you''re young.


    "To be sure!"


    "Well if you say so."


    Soon enough a delicious fragrance is emitting from the pot of armored"spiders". I understand that this is a land locked region but does no one here know what a damn crab is?


    My personal servants work just as quickly with a table set up as if for outdoor tea. Everything I''ve asked for is here and more. Plates and utensils have been prepared, there''s even a bread basket. I knew my staff would understand.


    "What is all this!?"


    "R we eating now Rosa?"


    "That''s right Lily, it''s time to eat!"


    "Yay! Lunch!"


    "But those are the riverstone spiders! My God they''re red!"


    Great observation oh brilliant prince. But it''s not only him who''s panicking at the sight of cooked crabs. What a waste, all those crabs uneaten for all this time.


    Since my hands are small and delicate I have the servants crack and break the crabs open. While I don''t mind getting my hands dirty and eating from the shells it''s too messy for Lillyanne. I don''t trust her not to injured herself so Ihave them scoop the meat out for her.


    A little lemon, salt and pepper and it''s done. Good enough for me! I think Lilyanne would prefer hers with butter but I like mine simple and more refreshing. Both are tasty though. I would prefer a spicier crabbed boil with onion, herbs and other things but this is also nice.It''s old fashioned.


    "Sp-sp-spider meat!!!"


    "No, they''re called crabs. They''re a kind of shellfish"


    "An dey so yummy!"


    "That''s right Liilyanne! You love them don''t you?"


    "Mmm!!!"


    The smell of fresh cooked crab wafts through the air, even the most shell shocked onlookers can''t help but gulp at the delicious aroma. I pick up the shell and legs of a more whole looking crab and make to take an exaggerated bite


    "Well then, how about you give it a try Erik?"


    The stupid prince passes out right there and then!


    Ah it''s been a good day.

 21 Complex

    I''ve messed up.


    I only meant to play around. Ruining a cute romantic first meeting and mess with the stupid prince a bit or something. It''s just a bit of fun, a little petty revenge.


    That sickening love story is what centers this hurricane called my life right?


    Since we''ve first arrived here two days ago, Erik and Lilyanne have been surprisingly close playmates. He won''t stop looking for us or following us. He is the young master of the place so it''s impossible to fully refuse him. It would be too rude and out of place. In the past we were never introduced until the engagement was set official. The stupid prince and I were were alloted forced time together each day but what about Lilyanne? She hardly ever interacted with him, the stupid prince would either stay far or have those brief rescue encounters.


    They were childhood sweethearts but they weren''t friends or anything. I don''t even know when or how they seriously fell for each other. But they did down the line.


    And here I''ve set them up even earlier. With the public first encounter they had, the ice has been broken and there''s no formalities with introductions to get in the way. They''re full on playmates at this point.


    And they''re sickening together.


    I honestly don''t think I''ll be able to stop it. Those two were so foolishly in love and history will repeat itself once again. ....It killed me then.


    So what if they fall in love again? So what if the engagement will be broken badly? I''ve made plans! I''m prepared this time. I won''t just be dragged and tossed aside again. Right?


    Right?!


    Rosalia was used to loneliness. I think a good amount of people are to some extent, no matter another world or time. Some handle it better than others no matter the weight. Some crack at the slightest pressure.


    Rosalia had cracked and crumbled and then glued the pieces together the best she could. She painted herself over in bold beautiful colors and set sail as if she has been never broken before. It looked good, it looked really really good. She lived lavishly, so glamorously. But it wasn''t enough against the metaphorical waves and the rain. She wasn''t enough and then she was too much.


    I don''t need Rosalia''s past memories to know what it feels like to drown. To all at once be too much and yet not enough.


    And then I died.


    I speak about the past Rosalia as if she''s another person that I''ve just taken over. I do so because I''m scared of otherwise losing myself. How do I tell where she and I start, where we end? The truth is as time goes on, I''m beginning to confuse myself.


    What is me and what is her?


    Was there even a line?


    The more time goes on the more I don''t think there even was one. I''m so scared of drowning in the same mistakes again, all of them from every lifetime.


    Every one.


    When I was reborn my soul, or whatever they call it, didn''t replace her. I didn''t just fill an empty exited space. It was so painful of an experience that every time I woke up that first day I forced myself to fall unconscious again until it was over.


    Sometimes I still feel the whiplash of that time.


    When I first came here, was first born two years ago, it was like having my all my veins pumped and filled with molted metal. It was having my entire body and soul squeezed into a far too small coffin to be buried alive.


    If I don''t refer to her as someone else how can I cope with those memories, her memories? The tragic life of that dead girl is too haunting. Like our souls I think our fears, insecurities and traumas have mixed and fused into something that could be potentially worse.


    Don''t Ignore Me


    Don''t Ignore Me


    Don''t Leave Me


    Don''t Hate Me


    That''s what starts it, the ignoring, the neglect. Hey hey stop it, stop ignoring me. I''m right here! I expect it soon enough from mama and papa. I expect it from the stupid prince. Hell I''ll even expect it from this whole damned world! I know it''s going to happen and I''m ready!


    But that part of Rosalia is just so damned scared.


    Don''t ignore me, don''t ignore me, please I''ll be good just don''t ignore me again. Don''t ignore me.


    God that voice is so hatefully annoying! Just shut up already! Shut up!!!


    I wish I could kill it so it would just shut up. But I don''t know anymore how much of it is just those past memories and how much of it is all me. We''re the same now. That haunted ghost like girl and I are the same person.


    Everything is already starting and I''m going to die again. But before that it will be a very painful and lonesome life. It''s starting.


    I''ll be invisible again.


    Though I fight it at every turn the panic won''t stop rising up and out of me. It''s overflowing. These shameful tears won''t stop. I can only muffle my cries with my dress and hide away somewhere with no people.


    What''s the big deal, they''re only playing? Can''t the kids develop into friends without me having a breakdown? As long at Lilyanne is on my side I''ll be fine. With her automatic support and my plans I''ll be ok right?


    But this is how it starts, this is when I start to get left behind.


    God why won''t the shaking and crying just stop already?!


    ----


    "Hey, are you still alive?"


    An insistent poking wakes me up from my sleep and I instantly pull a grimace. When did I even fall asleep?


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Shit no one was supposed to find me. How long have I been out anyways? I must have passed out from my ridiculous crying spree. Ah I want to hide away in shame.. My first reaction is to indeed curl myself up even further.


    The kid that found me however does not relent with the poking, I near bite the offending hand when he makes to pinch my cheek. I meant to but I missed, damn.


    "Oh so you''re awake now, that''s good. Everyone''s worried you know."


    So what, I would have been fine. I always am, the staff here are concerned for nothing. I refuse to even give him an answer, I''m too tired anyways.


    "Come on, let''s get you cleaned up.."


    I''m lifted upright and dusted off with small tanned hands, though they''re still much bigger than my own. Rude but well whatever I''m just a kid right now. I''m still the little eldest Miss of the Ventrellas after all.


    "Your grandfather''s been looking everywhere for you just so you know. Which reminds me..."


    Grampa''s back? And he''s here? That gets my attention enough to look up. The kid isn''t a servant''s child like I originally thought, he''s dusty and dressed like soldier. He has on one of those dopey smiles you wear when coaxing small children. It would have worked on another child, a real one.


    "I''ve found her! She''s over here sir!"


    "Where!"


    "Between the bushes and pines sir, she''s safe and unharmed."


    A bunch of cheers are heard, grampa must have assigned them all to search till they found me. Seriously, what time is it? I can''t tell in the shade of the trees, I couldn''t have been gone for more than a few hours. What''s the worry?


    "Report to Lord Roland!, she''s in the North-West field by the property!"


    "Good job Amar. You did well."


    "Dang it! I was going to win."


    "Haha it wasn''t even a contest Lukas."


    "Yeah yeah whatever. Good job finding it."


    I can''t see this Lukas kid he''s shouting at but I know I dislike him already. Sending soldiers out to search and do menial work wasn''t too surprising but child soldiers too? Ah grampa may be pretty mad.


    I refuse to be picked up though so the kid can only let me get up and walk by myself. The child solider offers me his hand but I have no need for such things. I just fell asleep, I''m not invalid. He simply shrugs and just lifts the branches of the bush out of my way. When I step out out my hiding place and into the clearing a sight, or should I say person, has me frozen on spot.


    There in front of me must have been the other searching child solider.


    But I recognize him, I recognize his overly pale features and arrogant grin. It''s that guy, one of my cousin''s Phillip''s dear friends. One of those who would come to help kill me in the end. He would watch me die too.


    "Ah they really do look alike! But this one isn''t as cute as the other one somehow."


    Shit.


    I force myself to breathe again but it comes out labored, uneven. If I try to hold it in it still comes out like mad hiccuping. With my recent breakdown everything is too fresh, the fear and memories. Everything is already falling in place and time is starting to turn no matter what I do.


    My time is counting down.


    "Hey don''t be sad. Come on you''re plenty cute, very cute. He didn''t mean it, say sorry Lukas. There there now don''t cry."


    Even though I refused his help earlier he''s giving me an easy exit route now. A dumb one that''s normally far below me but I''ll take it. The older kid picks up my now unresponsive form and I quickly hide my face away into his rough leather shirt, dirty or not. He takes my fearful trembling as a typical child''s crying and pats me comfortingly on the back as he walks.


    "Shhh don''t cry, it''s okay."


    "Geez what a baby."


    "The Lord commander is going to kill you when he finds out you made her cry, she is a baby."


    "You''re the one holding it! Why would I get blamed?"


    "Hear that Rosalia, your grandfather is going to smack that bad big brother silly later. He''s going to do lots of drills and get no yummy food."


    "Amar!"


    "It will be soooo funny when he get all the punishments. Don''t you think so? So don''t cry anymore ok?"


    "Amar you wouldn''t. Oi stop baby talking to it and oi Amar! Please don''t tell Lord commander!"


    I admit, that made me feel a little better.


    -----


    When we meet up with grampa at the main property I''m quickly taken into his arms like a rag doll.


    "Where have you been?! Was there any danger?"


    I shake my head at that. It''s a reasonable fear, with kidnapping threats always being viable.


    "I''m sorry. I went out and fell asleep. I''m very sorry about worrying everyone."


    "You were gone the entire day! No one seen or heard from you since breakfast."


    "I''m very sorry, I won''t ever do it again."


    It was just that bad of a day. So of course I pass out missing the same day gramps arrives too, just in time to get in trouble. Typical.


    "You better not young lady, god what if something had happened?"


    Nothing will happen, nothing yet at least. I would know that best. Grampa seems to sense something is wrong with me though and stops the scolding after that.


    "Good job on finding her everyone! I''m sorry to trouble you like this, please return and have a good rest. A grand meal and alcohol is on me as promised!"


    The scattered mixed up troops chuckle and cheer. Food sounds nice but somehow, despite napping for so long I just want to rest more. It''s just that bad of a day.


    Thankfully grampa doesn''t ask anymore nor does he mention the tear marks and snot on my face. I don''t think he would believe those kids if they told him I cried just because I was called uncute. I feel oddly better with grampa here though. I don''t know how long I''ll stay on his good side but for now here with him is the safest place I can possibly be.


    I just won''t ever tell him that. This grampa''s ego is overly inflated enough.


    Before falling back asleep in his arms I see that those kids again, the annoyingly nice one waving towards me. He mouths goodbye and I''m struck with an odd sense of deja vu.


    Ah whatever.


    Goodnight.


    I just want to sleep and forget a little while longer.


    ----

 22 I challenge you~

    Yesterday was a very bad terrible no good day.


    And some days will just be like that I suppose. It''s not like I can physically sweep the fear and anxieties away permanently. They were kind of traumatic.


    My disappearance most certainly gave grampa a scare though. He''ll be heading off to join the rest of the nobles and politicians at the conference but his special personal troops are stationed here. They''re not directly staying in the mansion with us but nearby and around the servants quarters.


    Not only will they be in charge of protecting us very desirable and ransom worthy children, they''ll be jump-starting us with weapons training!


    Finally!


    I''ve been set up with tutors but not weapons or fighting instructors yet. Though the educational tutors were assigned after it was discovered that I read so much of our family''s home library. Out of boredom, I kept pestering father to stock more interesting books. No one reads finances, tax records, nor old family trees for fun. As I said before the entertainment of this world is extremely lacking.


    I also think that most of those popular adventure books are based on grampa, which then just makes it too awkward to read. Just plain creepy. You try reading tweaked fan fiction about a grandparent of yours!


    You know what else is awkward?


    Since I woke up Lilyanne has been stuck attached to me and refuses to let go. She''s scared I''ll disappear for real after yesterday.


    That''s not too unexpected knowing Lilyanne, still as clingy as ever. N,o the really awkward part is that the stupid prince is in on it too! Is this his way of sticking to Lilyanne and annoying me? It''s absolutely disgusting.


    The poor stupid shit probably has no idea he''s getting engaged to me, otherwise, he wouldn''t be so close. Eww.


    That future announcement is not one I''ll be looking forward to.


    While we''re lead to the prepared garden area for our first lesson plan I contemplate how Father''s doing with the plan. After imagining the mess that is court, I suppose that staying here even with Lilyanne and the dumb prince in tow isn''t as bad.


    The guest instructor that will be in charge of us today is part of Grampa''s crew of course. Uncle Geoff is still back home in our territory managing both his estate and the campgrounds. In the past, he''s the one that started our weapons training and I expected that would be the case this time as well.


    It must have been my actions, or well lack of them yesterday, that changed things.


    Not only that but since grampa knows about my consciousness, how I''m not an average toddler. He may be arranging for my training early in that case. Why not take advantage of the time? Yes, that would be the most reasonable explanation.


    Years ago, a lifetime ago, we were first trained in small daggers, blade replacements and eventually moved on to fencing. Those were deemed appropriate and fit into the hobbies that a young noblewoman could have or easily conceal. Lessons were dabbling in other ''arts'', such as horseback riding or poison making. Those were the ones that Rosalia took best to besides the main weapons we focused on


    Again when I say ''we'' it actually was just me most of the time.


    Lilyanne was excused and absent from so many training sessions she may as well have never attended. I don''t think she even knew what to do past the form for holding a saber, even if it was the lightest and thinnest foil.


    But that was fine, Lilyanne wouldn''t need it. Ever. She had no need knowing how to fight. Not when everyone would always protect her. Even me.


    A bitterness wells up in the back of my throat, not unlike vomit bile. I don''t even try to deny it''s part jealousy. How nice it must be to not ever have to fear for your life, to work for your survival? How luxurious.


    It''s a luxury I can''t afford, not for a long time.


    So I take the introduction, any part of training really, seriously. Instead of one instructor, it''s a small crew of people, a team currently close to gramps in running dungeons and accompanying him. The majority of the section of troops he took with him is encamped while his closest bodyguards are with him at the conference. But these guys are nothing to mess around with. I recognize a good number of them, the kind of people to stick around the family through the years. The kind of people to keep.


    They will introduce us to various easier weapons. We''ll get an introduction and feel for them before starting with the popular and classic swordplay of this world.


    Before that, we''ll be running a set of physical tests. It''s P.E essentially, we''re going to stretch and run.


    "Lukas, Amar, show them how it goes!"


    "We''ll be over here supervising and preparing. The kids will learn better around those close in age to them."


    "Yes, ma''am!"


    "Hey there little squirts, I''m the awesome Lukas. And this here is my not as cool but still good friend Amar."


    The kids from yesterday are the youngest ones in this campaign. I remember now how they were also in grampa''s training camp back south. Their youthful presence awes Lilyanne and Erik. Kids not much older than them can become warriors? What an amazing concept! The stupid battle crazy prince is already starry-eyed.


    When asked they tell us that they are only 3 years older than me, at the age of 5. Normally that wouldn''t be such a big deal, right? To children, the 3-year difference in maturity and such may seem immense but it''s nothing in the eyes adults.


    Wrong.


    Of course, that''s wrong, what 5 year old becomes enlisted in the deadliest training corps in the known world?


    Anyone, child or not taken to personally train with grandpa can''t be simple. If I know grampa''s recruiting style, to get in his circles especially so young, you either have to have vast potential to be powerful or you have a tragic backstory to unlock that. Often they have both, what a combo.


    That''s why he''s so popular with the common people even till now. Grampa is well acquainted with and even helped jump-start many famous heroes and adventurers in their own right. Smiles and glory aside these people are not common, nor did they lead very charmed lives prior to fame.


    These kids are dangerous. not just because one of them will be instrumental in my very own death.


    What action can I take against them right now?


    Do I get rid of them? Recruit them? Just ignore them?


    They run us through the P.E exercises with the manner of older kids taking care of their younger siblings. They''re so natural and disarming about it that Lilyanne and Eric are already completely comfortable with them. Even calling them ''big brothers".


    It''s especially surprising how animated Lukas is about it, he doesn''t strike me as the type to play baby sitter. While they pay attention and joke around with all of us, with the concentration no normal 5 year old should have may I add, Lukas is especially focused on the stupid little prince.


    Ah, I see.


    He''s my damned cousin Phillip''s friend too. So he''s a social climber, is he? Buddying it up to the prince of a northern country wouldn''t be a bad choice. Now that I can look at him carefully without panicking, the boy is most likely Northern himself given his overly pale coloring and straight slim nose. I don''t have the patience to bother telling him to give it up, that prince cares for no one. No one but Lilyanne perhaps.


    You can try to warm up to him now as a baby but I''ve seen the robot-like person he grows up into.


    "And bend and stretch! Good job you almost got it!"


    "I think we''re almost done here, sir!"


    The stupid prince is still dazzled though, especially by Lukas who gives him extra care and praise. How stupid, in the future plenty of strong people will try to worm their way to you. It strange seeing Erik like this, so unguarded and more excusably stupid than usual. It''s even a little amusing.


    "You girls did really well too, especially you Rosalia. I hope you''re feeling better."


    Oh yeah, the kid found me passed out in a bush and carried my crying ass home. A little dopey with his constant smiling but he''s not an unkind kid I''ll give him that. It warrants a polite response, at the very least more than Lukas. I don''t remember this one in the crew trying to kill me.


    "Yes I''m feeling much better, thank you. I apologize for the unfortunate first impression."


    "Ah, that''s the most you''ve said to me so far! Still, don''t smile much do you? Still, at your age to know so many words, you must be very smart!"


    "Yep Rosa knows lots!"


    "Thank you for the praise, and again thank you. I must ask and trust though that yesterday''s matters be kept quiet."


    It''s embarrassing, no one further needs to know my shame. Especially Lilyanne, she''s oddly worried about me since I came back last night. Which may be why she''s been sticking to me, and thus Erik too.


    "Of course then, it will be just between us."


    "Eh, Rosa I wanna be in tween to. Rosa?"


    It''s too embarrassing, the less Lilyanne knows the better. In fact the less that anyone knows, the better. I nod to the older boy and keep my mouth shut.


    "Alright then kiddos, we''ll be having our first demonstration with swords. This is the weapon you probably see the most."


    "Mmm! Papa an grandpapa have swords!"


    "I have one too!"


    The baby stupid prince waves around his wooden toy sword, which appeared from out of nowhere. Where was he even keeping that thing during exercises?


    We''re lead through the basics such as holding, stance, and attack types, very Day 1 sort of material. It''s adorable how even Lilyanne is giving it a try, though I know it won''t stick.


    Erik though is an arrogant little prat even as a baby. He stomps his feet impatiently and in an attempt to show off waves around the demonstration with his toy sword. Oh, he''s definitely showing off since he expectingly looks back at my sister and me right after.


    "That''s all easy stuff! Of course, I already know how to do all of that, I''m the prince!"


    I can''t believe I was seriously going to marry this kid. Died for it but dodged a bullet there. The instructor, a bulky young man, looks at him with a tired sigh reserved for when dealing with nobles. You know the kind you make at work when handing annoying customers while they''re being unreasonable.


    "Yes your majesty, but there''s a lot to master in the basics. Without the foundations, the following layers you learn will be weak."


    "I''m not weak!"


    "Hehe, sir Malcolm, can I teach him the lesson?!"


    "Sigh....sure Lukas, why not. That''s what you''re good for I suppose. Just don''t bully him too badly."


    "Big brother Lukas?!"


    "So squirt, I won''t talk much. Just fight me and that will do the talking."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "A duel! My first duel?! I gladly accept and will show you my skill!"


    "Show me then you spoiled little squirt."


    Now, this is what I''m talking about, Oh this will be amusing to watch, especially if a certain stupid prince gets beat to the ground. Please, Lukas, I''ll even up my impression of you if you make that stupid prince eat sand!


    -----

 23 you call that a fight?

    A circle of chalk has been drawn into the ground. A simple, relatively soft-looking arena for a little sword practice. No one wants to take responsibility if the stupid prince or anyone gets hurts.


    I still hope he eats sand.


    Or well grass considering the land. The northern boys get into position on either side of the circle. The rules are simple, beat your opponent into the dust or just out of the circle. Of course, you can always forfeit.


    Inside, besides defeating your opponent, you could show off your skills. A crowd of servants and staff are gathering to watch, more than a few of them rightfully worried. Their little prince is going to get beeeeeeat.


    "I, prince Erick of the Northern Federation, am ready for your challenge!"


    "Yeah yeah, squirt just come at me."


    For fairness'' sake, both are using wooden swords. Lukas has earlier requested for his own arm to be tied back but the stupid prince refused the free handicap.


    "It''s not honorable" he cried.


    There is no honor in war.


    Where was your sense of honor in killing me? A 17 year old girl, your fiance?


    Well, that''s a story that''s already over, one that won''t be repeated. I should just enjoy the moment I''m in now, which consists of a baby stupid price making a fool of himself.


    Lukas is either very confident in his own abilities to beat a foolish 3 year old or something like that because he fights with one arm in his pocket at all times. More than fighting, it''s better to call it just dodging and teasing.


    "Too slow!"


    "Could you be any more obvious?"


    "Yeah waving that stick up high isn''t going to do anything."


    "I''m still waiting!"


    That''s all Lukas taunting, or well yelling. For a kid that said he wasn''t going too talk much, he sure isn''t following up on that. But he''s tiring out and making the stupid prince trip more than once so I''ll let it go. He could much harsher on stupid prince Erik though, I haven''t seen any real bullying or beat downs.


    "Hit me once! You don''t even need to push me out just hit me once."


    "Ahhhhhh!!!!"


    In a powerful charge with those stubby little legs, the stupid prince rushes. Poised and pointed with his deadly toy sword, he pushes in all his strength in an ultimate attack!


    And falls right out the circle.


    "Not bad for a first time squirt!"


    Lukas bounces over to give the stupid prince his first bodily hit of the day. A mere flick on the head.


    Weaaaaaaaak! I demand actual fighting! Nothing hurt him but the ground and his own pride! At least he comically ate enough grass for this match to be acceptable


    "And match over! Are you alright you majesty."


    "Wait why no, ''are you, alright boys''? OR ''How about you Lukas.''?!"


    A row of exasperated instructors gives a mix of tired groans and good-natured chuckles. A round of ''shut up Ukas'' ''yeah yeah Lukas'' follows. It was hardly a warm-up for the kid, older even with a self handicap. He''s in grampa''s training crops, I wouldn''t be surprised if this boy could already solo killing magical beats.


    Small graces, I should just take them as they come.


    The stupid prince gets up from the ground, absolutely fine of course. He''s tearing up already but that''s due to his own hurt feelings and the one painful flick to his foreheads.


    "Hic, Why didn''t you fight properly?!"


    "I did, you''re just weak."


    "Ack!"


    "You were so stupid looking! There was no need for me to even draw my sword, let alone use my other arm! Oh and you kept falling!"


    "Hic, how, hic dare you!"


    Lukas shakes his head and lets out an even louder laugh at the princes expense.


    "I was telling you what you were doing wrong, are you going to listen now squirt?"


    Even though the stupid prince was shaking back easy tears and choking threats that would have a common servant quaking, Lukas suddenly holds him from behind. He positions Erick and starts explaining poses and movement, taking him through the "easy" basics once more.


    It''s not all about powerful attacks, here I''ll show you even slower."


    The frown in the stupid prince''s face fades away and he''s quick to hang off Luka''s every word. The instructor is there to shout out the occasional word of advice but it''s Lukas that the stupid prince follows.


    I don''t recall seeing Lukas much in the future except around cousin Phillip. No mention of him around future stupid prince either. I can''t say if he''ll succeed to shimming up to prince Erik or not, it''s not like we were ever close, engaged or not.


    But it''s funny, with the way Lukas is looking at the stupid prince now...you''d think he doesn''t want to let go. How was an ambitious kid like this not all over the stupid prince later?


    It bothers me in a way I can''t figure out. But that''s nothing I can help for now.


    They may be getting along usually well but it could just be me and my own imagination. I just panicked over Erik and Lilyanne yesterday, it must be too fresh.


    I need to distract myself. Or get on with the plan.


    While we''re still going through the stances, one woman in the back catches my eye.She''s tall, strong, just past her teen years and naturally dark from a lifetime training under the hot sun. Her dark red hair is cropped short and shaved awkwardly as if it had been an accident. She doesn''t speak to us kids, opting to hang back instead. She''s not good with children I remember, but that''s not important. She''s great at something else.


    Beast Tamer Tamera.


    In the not so distant future, she''ll be a legend. Untameable high leveled creatures, some no one ever thought could be ridden or used in any manner will fall under her command. She would come to invent a whole new style of schooling though her techniques were primarily still secret last I heard, before I died that is.


    But right now she''s just a hardworking young women, rising in the ranks among grampa''s circles. She should have already discovered her beast taming abilities if she''s here and done any raids.


    I find my chance when her guard is down after I''ve demonstrated a satisfactory form. The instructor taking more time now to lead Lilyanne.


    "Hello."


    "Ack, hey when did this kid get here?"


    "It''s the one from last night right? The escape artist."


    A skinny dark hair teenager is by her side. He looks better off as a librarian than in the troops. No one should doubt him either. He''s a rare necromancer, even in a place where magic isn''t common. His abilities itself aren''t that powerful but with the right accessories and spells, he will be.


    "Yes my name is Rosalia Therese Ventrella, I apologize for the trouble I caused you yesterday. "


    "If the lord wasn''t such a maniac it would have been no problem."


    "Tamera, be nicer."


    "Vinny you know I suck with ki-


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Be nice! She''s talking to you"


    "ER...that''s alright kid. Shouldn''t you be getting back?"


    "It''s quite alight. I''m actually here to tell you something."


    "Err well if you need something then Taylor over there should-"


    "If you don''t want the tip from Grampa, very well then I''ll go over there and give it to him"


    "Wait wait wait get back there. What kind of tip did he give you here?"


    It''s something grampa could figure out if you gave him enough time and incentive. But it''s not his idea, it was from Vincent the necromancer here. Sorry, Vincent, I''ll have to cut your contributions short. He''s still very necessary though, I''ll just make it up to him in another way. It would pay to have him on my side as well.


    "This is actually something that could benefit both of you. Tamera and Vincent right?"


    "Me too?"


    "Guess the Lord commander really does have something for us. Alright what is it kid?"


    "Well he didn''t exactly tell me to tell you, it''s one of those things he''s going off of."


    "And?"


    "And I want to make a little deal."


    Tamera grimaces but Vincent plays along. He''s curious enough to play.


    "And so, why are you coming to us?"


    "You two will benefit most from this info."


    "And in return?"


    "A sword is fine and all but you two of all people should know it''s not for everyone."


    "Make it straight kid, what do you want?"


    Simple and straight, I like her already.


    "You, teach me how to use your weapons. You don''t need to teach me all of them but well, the more I benefit."


    I point to her riding crop and rolled up whip by her thigh. There are other hidden weapons hidden on her person but the whip is what I''m most interested in.


    "And you-"


    "Hey kid I get me and all but Vinny here''s special. No one else can do what he does."


    "I know that I can''t raise the dead."


    "Shit, she really does know."


    "Instead teach me alchemy and how to enchant."


    Those are useful skills, and I do intend to polish them, but more than that I want him under my wing. He''s going to make a lot of useful things later using his necromancy. Vincent Holmes, a cheat of an enchanter and inventor using parts of the dead. His personal stamina sucks but his items will soon be coveted by nobles and hero wannabees alike.


    Wouldn''t it be wonderful to be his patron and jump-start his career?


    How great is it to find two such powerful people at once.


    "Vinny, how do we tell the Lord commander''s grandkid to scram without getting in trouble?"


    "You won''t want to with what I''m about to tell you."


    "And just what would that be little Miss Rosalia?"


    The pale teen lets me lead. While this behavior may get him bossed around with Tamera and such I don''t think anyone could actually bully him. He''s too smart for that. Dangerous, but it should be fine if it''s on my side.


    "I''ll give you a hint then: 368 fresh goblin bones,all from different individuals, boiled in ogre blood. Viper snakeskin and any tendon will do but screaming blood monkeys are the best value for easy to find beasts."


    I recount the list casually as if it consisted of groceries instead of body parts. Vincent''s polite smile gives way to shock, he doesn''t miss how my gaze lingers on Tamera''s whip the entire time. The cool facade begins to tremble and falls apart in something that resembles a mad glee. He can''t look away from the simple weapon either.


    "Yes...yes that just might be feasible."


    "And all I ask for is some simple lessons, won''t you help this little girl?"


    "Vinny, what is she going on about?"


    "Yes! Yes, we''ll gladly''help out'' the Lord commander''s precious granddaughter. It''s not only our honor but our duty."


    "Oi Vinny, is this another one of your nerd things?"


    "Don''t forget to boil the tendons in the viper venom. High for the first half-hour then medium heat."


    "Of course Ms. Roslaia, let me go write that down."


    "Do I even want to know?"


    He nudges her and makes a harsh scolding noise into her ear. She''s a little mad at first but after some gesturing to her whip, a promise of a new weapon, she seems to relent.


    "Alright kid, since it makes my pal here happy I''ll play along. But you gotta prove to me something."


    "Yes Ms. Tamera?"


    "Show me how you fight. Using that sword you learned today, show me if it''s even worth my time trying to teach you something."


    "Tamera!"


    "You can''t just let a kid hold one over you because she somehow knows ''exactly how many bones'' or whatever."


    "That sounds fair. Then can I duel fight someone as proof? Saaaay prince Erik over there."


    She looks over at the baby prince, probably mentally running though the match from earlier and shrugs to herself.


    "Yeah sure kid, that sounds about right. That one is like what a year older than you? Lukas was an unfair match from the start but prince blondie isn''t bad for a noble his age. Wipe his butt and I''ll start teaching you some of my babies."


    "Tamera don''t you dare ruin this! There''s more in her tiny little cranium, I just know it!"


    "It''s a deal then, a pleasure to be under your tutelage. Please take care of me from now own."


    It took less than 10 minutes to prepare the ring again and get the stupid prince to agree to challenge match with me. Something about it being dishonorable to fight a girl. The female instructors didn''t take too well to that.


    And then it was on!


    Sadly it took less than 3 minutes before said instructors, who were acting as referee, pulled me up into the air and threw my practice sword to the side. I barely had any time to smack and jab the stupid prince but he was already bawling on the ground. A healer was even rushed in. It can''t be that bad, I only have the strength of a 2 year old!


    It''s kind of sad how the only sound from the last 3 minutes was the smacking of my wooden sword and the stupid price''s crying, though that was very satisfying I must admit. Nothing from the shocked silent crowd though.


    In the mess of people I happily look over and wave a slightly shocked Tamera and Vincent for their approval.


    "Yeah okay, I like her. We can keep her."


    ----

 24 At least theres sweets

    "Congratulations on your engagement your majesty Prince Erik. And to you Miss Rosalia."


    It''s official. the day has come.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    The same date, the same grand hall, the day we''re promised to each other to be married.


    A deadly domino game has been set up in place. The question now is not if I can stop it or not, it''s if I can avoid personally being knocked down myself.


    It''s already a little different, the pieces I''ve set up showing itself. For one there''s a lot more witnesses, a result of grampa''s and his troop''s presence. In a way that''s on me, the one who first set up those pieces.


    Prince Erik still stiffly bows to me while I reluctantly curtsy in front of the elders. But it''s more sure now compared to the first time around, less awkward since we know each other. He does not go straight to ignoring me this time, instead, I''m being looked at with very visibly nervous eyes.


    I''d like to think it''s because of the beating I gave him the other day. Ah, I''d like a rematch to beat out the stress that''s gnawing up inside of me. It''s going to be a long and painful next few years being the stupid prince''s fiance, a lot of troublesome years.


    At least I get some cake after this, yes I''ll stress eat at the tea party or whatever they set up for us. I don''t mind if the stupid prince will sit there in awkward silence, I just want to enjoy something sweet!


    "Wheee, mama, papa, will Rosa get marwied?"


    ""Yes Lilyanne, an engagement means a promise to be married."


    "An Rosa will wear a pwetty dwess an we can have a big pawty!"


    There are a lot simpler ways to have a big party and wear pretty clothes. No arranged marriages necessary. But Lilyanne is a simple little girl. It will be good if she stays relatively innocent, just not stupid. This world is too politically complicated.


    "I''m so happy! Will Ewik come live with us too? It gonna be sooo fun!"


    "Err young Miss Lilyanne that won''t be how it works."


    "I can''t wait!~"


    Lilyanne is a lot more talkative this time around, maybe since we''re all familiar with one another due to our sped up meeting. Children are meant to be seen not heard, but as always no one can really fault Lilyanne. She''s just too small and cute.


    Besides, it''s not like she''s the one in the center stage.


    I can feel the gaze of the foreign queen, Erik''s mother, examining me for any weaknesses. My silence and straight posture a contrast to both my sister and my now fiance.


    "As expected, they make a graceful pair. May this be a fruitful union between us."


    "Yes...a fruitful union indeed."


    Father''s smile is perfect but the line of his lip is stiff. He looks to be holding back his shit mouth, of course only those close to him would be able to tell. He''s a nobleman with a perfect public face after all.


    Grampa is, to no surprise to us but to the scandal of others, sitting perched on the side. Instead of leading this introductory ceremony, or even watching from the central circle, he''s saying that he''s not involved in all this. As the head of the Ventrella family, as the figure that he is, for him to not take an active role is a sign of disapproval. Still, since he''s not interfering or stopping the informal introductory ceremony, that''s a good enough go ahead as anyone''s going to get.


    Honestly, he looks like he''s enjoying a bad movie, the so bad it''s good kind of films.


    Hey, wait am I the bad movie in this analogy!?


    How dare he use me as cheap entertainment!


    The situation can''t be helped but I should at least be a quality show. I''m not expecting my life to be a blockbuster movie but I''d at least be a semi-popular series on the internet.


    Still, it would be unwise to make a ruckus in front of all these people. My every move is being watched and analyzed here.


    Children don''t need to do much but they have their roles to play. To stand out in any way, especially the wrong way, will not benefit me in any kind. In fact, I may even be forced into some hellish ''etiquette ''training as compensation for my behavior. The average commoner in me, which is essentially all of me, shakes in fear at the memory.


    So I grit my teeth and match my father in the following procedure. You can curse all you want to yourself but not in public.


    Eventually, it''s finished and prince Erik and I are herded into a little room for tea, to get to know one another better. It''s our first official meeting otherwise I would try to drag along Lilyanne. As much as I dislike those two getting along, it would make things less awkward. Besides, it''s not like I can stop this stupid couple from the inevitable.


    At least there''s sweets to drown in. It''s only some cookies and some type of dense candied fruit and cream cake. It''s nothing compared to my old world but it''s something.


    "Um, Rosalia..."


    Oh, that''s new, the stupid prince is making to speak to me first. Well, I don''t mind the background noise as long as I''m eating.


    "Um... I''ll get stronger as I grow so....since we''re promised to one another, I promise to try to be a good husband in the future."


    HAHA!!! What a laugh! I spat out the bite of cake I just had lest I choke on my own laughter. The confused look on the stupid prince''s face is making it even worse! I can''t stop laughing. It''s just too funny.


    I died by your hands, not directly but I died because of you. Is this dark humor, I''m not sure? You get some leeway after dying right?


    Prince Erik''s face keeps getting worse and worse, and the maids are frozen in fear in the background.For their sake, I should say something. I wouldn''t want them to stop bringing goodies.


    "Pffft, hic, don''t mind me, often hahaha. Don''t mind me at all!"


    Oh dear, this isn''t working, my laughter can''t be contained. When I can roughly breathe again I''ll try talking.


    "Please excuse my outburst, I just wasn''t expecting that. Ah, I haven''t laughed that much in a while, that felt good."


    "I really will get stronger...."


    Did I hurt his fragile little ego? Such a child.


    "Haha don''t feel bad, I wasn''t making fun of you. I have no doubt about that Prince Erik, we''re both very very young. There''s a lot of time for us to grow and change."


    I''ve been meaning to have this private interrog- I mean talk, with him anyways. Why not clear the air here? After all, if you can''t beat them, then gain their trust or blackmail to the point you have them wrapped around your finger like a slave.


    That''s not quite how the saying goes but it works for me!


    "You will get much stronger as you grow older and become a very capable prince, that I''m sure."


    A stupid one but it worked enough back then. He wasn''t unlearned towards his lessons or abusive towards his citizens, he''s just stupid in a lot of other ways. Say making friends or not killing off his fiance when things don''t go his way, those social skills kind of things.


    My words cheer him up rather quickly, I suppose it''s the most praise he''s heard from me. He''s heating up rather quickly.


    "Thank you, I''ll be sure to work hard and fulfill everyone''s expectations. Of course I return to sentiment to you too Rosalia. You''re already strong and cool, I''m sure you will grow to be a good queen."


    This is also the most that the stupid prince has ever praised me. Funny how it takes a rebirth to get to this point.


    "It doesn''t disturb you then? That we''ve been engaged so young."


    "No-no! Not at all!"


    "It''s alright to admit it, after all, we''ve just met not too long ago."


    "Well, I am a little surprised. But I''ve been told I was going to be engaged to someone soon. I''m glad it can be with someone like you!"


    "Oh, Is that so."


    "Mmm! Even though you''re younger than me, you speak very well and you''re fast at the sword."


    While I do like praise as much as the next person, with my status as a time-hopping reborn person these things aren''t really praiseworthy. I can speak with decent grammar and beat up a 3 year old, whoopie me.


    "Those things really are nothing."


    "Mmm not at all Rosalia, I''m sure you learn things really fast! You''re a really suitable princess candidate!"


    That will true for a while but then what? What was that phrase again? Genius at what 3 or 5? Prodigy at 10 and a common man after 15? Something like that.


    That''s what I''ll be.


    It won''t be good for people to keep getting fooled by me in the long term when the jig is up. But that doesn''t matter with my life on the line. As long as I survive, anything goes. And part of that is coming clear enough to have a working relationship with the stupid prince here.


    I''ll never like him.


    It''s out of the question, let alone love him. In a way, I''m still kind of scared of him. Or well the cruel man he will grow into becoming. Even if I can''t bring myself to like this person, I don''t have to be his enemy, at least not outright.


    "It''s really nothing Prince Erik. I''ll soon be out shadowed. "


    "Whatever do you mean by that Rosalia?"


    "It means. you dumb boy, that I won''t matter much in the long term. Do you think I''m strong?"


    "Yes! And cool! I never saw a girl ouR age as strong as you!"


    Ohohoho I can live with this opinion. Shall this be my image for this lifetime? The cool one? Oh dear, that laugh earlier sounded like mother''s though.


    "And what do you think of say, my sister Lilyanne?"


    "Ack, um...she''s much more. Hmmm, it''s hard to say it out."


    "Go ahead, I won''t get mad and hit you for it or anything. "


    I''ll hit you for lots of entirely different reasons, You won''t get out of being my sandbag that easily oh stupid prince.


    "Well...Lilyanne is a lot more babyish. You''re twins but she seems so much, smaller.... I know you''re the same age but it''s as if she''s the softer one,the one that needs to be looked out after."


    "You think she''s cute don''t you?"


    "Eep! What!? No! I mean yes, wait. I mean of course she''s cute. You both are, with the same face and all. Is this a trick question?"


    "I know what you''re already thinking."


    "What are you even talking about? I''m confused."


    "Of course you are. But I already knew that too ."


    "What-"


    "I''ll be out shadowed soon if I''m not already.Your family made the wrong choice and picked the wrong twin.You''ll see it soon, maybe you already do."


    "Rosalia, don''t tell me you''re feeling -"


    I stuff a forkful of non choking hazard attempt at cream cake into his open mouth hole, the unfortunate one he uses to talk. Don''t you dare finish that damn question stupid prince, don''t you dare say jealous. Rosalia had a whole lifetime to be jealous and it had little nothing to do with you.


    "I''ll tell you a secret prince Erik if you promise not to tell anyone else. Come closer if you want to hear it."


    The stuffy little prince is confused, it makes his face even stranger as if he needs help going to the bathroom. But he readily nods and agrees, even though getting closer makes him nervous. As if I''m a beast he''s not sure how to approach let alone attack.


    I meet him halfway across the dainty sweets covered table, beckoning him even closer. I can only whisper it into his reddening ear, so no one, not even a fly could hear.


    "Don''t worry, you and I won''t ever be married."


    Not in the last life and definitely not in this one.


    ------

 25 Hush

    The following days are as peaceful as can be. With father''s successful negotiations it''s expected we shall stay for another week before leaving back to the mansion home in the capital. The less time in direct contact with my stupid fiance the better.


    As a timely excuse, we''ll have to make the trip back home not too long afterward. While I would prefer to grow up safely in our home base, I ''m not looking forward to the trip back. The pangs of motion sickness reminds me of how bad it was the first time. I wonder if I could convince grampa if I could hitch a ride with him, or at least sneak on.


    The carriage is really too awful!


    The remaining days here pass by as peacefully as could be with the new weapon lessons. The children are having fun with it despite the increase in drills.


    Of course, Lilyanne is excused from completing even half of them, it''s rather unfair. Well, it''s still better than her past self, who always fell ill. It definitely wouldn''t hurt for her to get a little physically stronger.


    Oh wait I''m one of those children too!


    I suppose I''m the one that''s having the most fun, I''ve never used a whip before! I always wanted to try it after seeing how cool they looked in video games. Ms. Tamera is having me work more on daggers and other more practical weapons but it''s still so exciting to start on the whip!


    Doesn''t it suit my villainess image perfectly?


    With father''s reassurance, I have no worries about the other side holding one up on us. Now he could be lying to me but even he knows how much more beneficial it would be otherwise. Doesn''t mean he''s not keeping things form me, of course. Can''t be helped, I''m keeping an even bigger secret.


    We all deserve a little personal privacy.


    Which is why I''m running off again. Believe it or not my tactics to clear the air and draw the line between my stupid fiance and I...has failed. Those two little ones are hell-bent on sticking with me. I get Lilyanne, she''s always been clingy, I''m her one and only playmate growing up.


    But the stupid prince?!


    Didn''t I scare him off?!


    For a full day since our engagement announcement, he''s stayed quiet and subdued around me. That I could live with, in the past he never spoke to me beyond what was necessary and polite. At least now his silence was tinged with a sense of respect, or fear, probably both. That''s just the way I prefer it.


    But he''s back and stickier than ever!


    Before they would follow me around like little ducklings. Somehow they''ve gotten even worse. As much as I hate to see how ...well they''re getting along, I think Lilyanne and the stupid prince are working together.


    I just don''t know what their horrible baby intentions are but I know I want nothing to do with it.


    I am fond of my little sister but that''s not enough to be dragged into whatever nonsense is going on here. To the point of teaming up with that stupid prince? No it''s best the stay clear and wait out the rest of the week. Then we''ll head back and be free from whatever that damn prince has brewing. Lilyanne will mostly forget about her little playmate soon enough after we remove him. Then I won''t have to see him officially for at least another year, two if I''m lucky.


    They''ve been tag-teaming on following and cornering me but they''re still just children. Real ones.


    It''s annoying but not difficult to avoid and escape them. I should remember not to tease the stupid prince too much, it''s troublesome how personal he seems to take it.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Major meal times can''t be avoided though I can sneak food out. It''s not my kitchens here but they sure do welcome and appreciate the tips on cooking those river rock crabs. It''s a bit of a waste telling them so much many recipes for free, the cooking techniques of this world are on the medieval side.


    Anything in my memories could be used as an advantage and for profit, it''s all the cheat I have.


    Well, I''ll consider it a favor and investment for those here.It''s also great fun to sneak crab meat into the stupid prince''s meals. He ate the entire gratin yesterday before I allowed anyone to tell him it was his beloved ''spiders'', ah it''s never not funny to watch his face twist terribly and pass out.


    It''s much easier to deal with those sticky ducklings when they''re unconscious.


    Back to avoiding them, as long as I inform a servant here or there of my expected play time no one will report me missing. There''s nothing really of value to me to explore in this manor, I''ve just checked.


    For old time''s sake though I did ''accidentally'' smash a particularly ugly vase


    This is more of an event and vacation home to their owners, not much of true value here in the first place. Sparkly crystal chandeliers do not count. While the garden and grounds are large enough to accommodate grampa''s temporary troops, there''s nothing really fun. I could go bother them troops but I have a feeling I''ll be seeing a lot more of then in the coming days.


    I sure hope Vincent''s weapons research is progressing well!


    Instead, it would be more interesting to explore the forest around these parts. The variety of small level beasts around this area is astounding. Far more than back at home. I feel like a nature documentary host.Except instead of actual animals they''re probably magical beasts and fantastical mutations. Yeah, that''s something I''m still not over about the place of my rebirth.


    It would be Harry Potter levels of cool if they weren''t so deadly. Or if I had magical powers. So I lose in this department either way.


    What a shame I guess I won''t be able to live a fantastical life as a strong ''cheat'' character heroine. Cross that fantasy option out.


    There''s this one particular creature. It resembles a long weasel cat thing with multiple tails, at least 3 of them.It looked somewhat intelligent and I spent a good 20 something minutes following after it. For research purposes of course. I was not going ''here kitty kitty good kitty soft kitty''~ the whole time.


    It was while I was sneakily chasing after the adorable beast that I heard it. Something I was best off not hearing.


    There are no clearing, only dense bushes and trees older than anyone I''ve ever met. I might have gone a bit far following the kitty weasel.But it can''t have been that far off if there''s people conversing.


    It sounded harsh, not unlike an argument. They weren''t particularly loud but they were voices I most certainly recognized.


    "Shit what was that?"


    The weasel cat goes bouncing down from its perch and run across from the two boys. I don''t know why I decided to hide at that time, why I leaned back into a crouch behind the foliage instead of just showing myself.


    Instinct perhaps? Social Awkwardness? Maybe I would be able to sneak away and not disturb anyone.


    Whatever''s going on it sounded intense, even for 5 year olds. But I find myself trapped behind branches and leaves when the conversation picks up again.


    "Damn that thing scared me."


    Lukas slid down to his butt against the back of the tree, I could see him slump in a manner unsuited for his usually cocky self. His equally young friend stood nearby, not quite hovering. but in a manner that was more caring, protective.


    "You have to be more careful."


    "It was just a merlat Amar! It''s nothing!"


    "You know I''m not talking about that. Not the merlat or any beasts."


    "It''s fine! Who do you think I am? I can get through anything let alone some as stupid as this."


    "You can fight and you can kill something. This is different."


    "It''s babysitting some weak babies!"


    "You''re getting close."


    "It''s nothing!"


    "Lukas, Lukas look at me."


    He carefully reaches out, tanned arms that should still be pudgy but aren''t, over his friend''s shoulders. Lukas complies, his face strained up in the way that abused children try to be brave.


    "You can do this yes but at what cost? Say you stay,you stay and you play and you become something in his little majesty''s life. Then what? What happens when word gets back to the king...the queen."


    The much paler boy on the ground chokes out something between a growl and a sob.


    "It won''t, it won''t happen because I''m not getting close."


    "He likes you, a lot."


    "Kids like people all the time, no one will mention much about another kid aged solider."


    "Lukas,...it''s not him I''m worried about. I don''t even care about the kid."


    "Ha! Don''t tell them that, they think you''re the nice one."


    " It''s you. I care about you, and I know this is going to hurt you.."


    "I won''t jeopardize anything! No one knows anything!"


    "I know you won''t. But you''ll hurt, he''ll break your heart just like them."


    "Don''t be dumb, it''s not that deep. I just....I ju.."


    "To see him. I know Lukas, I know. I''d give so much to see my family as we were again. I''d do anything, get rid of anyone they''d tell me to. If such a trade was possibly I''d do it."


    "Amar....that''s not the same. I''m sorry I didn''t mean it like that-."


    "It''s okay, it''s okay Lukas. But you can''t love him, you can''t get close to him."


    "Why."


    Lukas gasps out, choking back sobs that were already deep inside his lungs. There''s no sound in the forest except for his heavy breathing. I barely dare to breathe myself, trapped in the tension of it all.


    "You know why."


    "NO....why?! Why is it like this? Why does it have to be like this.? Why would the great goddess place us here like this, why?!"


    The boys stay silent for a long time, Lukas focused on calming his breathes, his emotions.


    "I asked that a lot myself."


    Amar finally speaks up, his soothing voice wistful but steady in the moment. It sounds too mature for any child. He looks off in the distance,, somewhere far from here. For a moment he''s somewhere else, somewhere much farther than just the midways lands.


    "So? Did you ever get an answer?"


    "Maybe, I don''t know. I just know our answers will be different."


    They stay stewing in their own quiet, their own minds for a long moment after.


    I think I''ve heard something I''m not supposed to.I didn''t mean to eavesdrop, not on something like this. whatever this is.


    "Head back first Lukas, I''ll finish the lap for you."


    "....Yeah okay. Like I''ll pass up a chance to do less work."


    The snowy hair child climbs his way back up off the floor. His dejected air masked by a lazy swagger and walk. But anyone who knew the kid could see there''s something off, a little broken about the way he carries himself today.


    "Lukas."


    "Hmm? Oi no take back."


    "Haha no I''ll keep my promise, you know I always do. No just....just be careful okay. I don''t care about that family but you, you''re much more important.. Be careful ok."


    "...Yeah....yeah that fine. Thank for putting up with me."


    "There''s no putting up with, you''re my friend. It''s no problem!"


    The previously depressed Lukas can''t help but to let go of whatever weight he was carrying, not against that bright smile. Amar shines with something sunny, lightening up the tense atmosphere with his support. My mind inappropriately compares it to an anime scene that''s about friendship.


    It works the same as one, with Lukas perking up closer to his usual self. It''s only when he''s out of sound and sight that I dare to breathe, dare to think.


    What''s going on, what is all of this? I can''t match anything I''ve heard to Rosalia''s previous memories, it''s nothing from what I previously know. But it''s no insignificant matter.


    Piecing together the heavy conversation, it''s as if Lukas and the stupid prince are related in a way deeper than people suspected. There isn''t that much of a resemblance outside their shared Northern features no, It can''t be that-


    ''Whoosh''


    For certain I know the moment when my cover is blown. A flash, the brushing of leaves and my hiding spot found out. Later after the shock wore off and I would find the time to think back,I would have to say it wasn''t from the sound and the quick rustling of leaves that I figured I was found out.


    Instead, I have to say it''s the moment a sharp metal blade pushed up right at my tiny toddler sized throat.


    It all happened so fast.


    A thin line welt at the blade, my skin broken just enough.


    At that moment I think I saw death, truly met him in this short life of mine. And all I could see, all I could think was how he had such green eyes.


    "Oh, Rosalia it''s just you! You shouldn''t be playing around like this, it''s dangerous out here."


    Green eyes that can change faster than a trick of the light. That face that looked like death itself flickered and then it was gone. There stood in his place was a kind familiar boy, the perfect figure of the older brother next door, one with a warm dopey smile.


    "Did I scare you? I''m sorry you just surprised me. Are you okay? Big brother is sorry! Don''t worry it''s safe now I wouldn''t hurt you, here look my knife is put away nice and safe. Can you get up? Do you want me to carry you?"


    I can''t move my legs, I can''t even make a sound. How terrifying, how awfully terrifying was this boy just now. How horrifying was the speed of his change, from death itself to this seemingly innocent looking child?


    "I got you Rosalia, I''m sorry for scaring you. Up you go, there there I''ll take you back. Don''t be scared."


    Amar makes to carry me back to the manor and once again for lack of a better option, I let him.I don''t know what to think. I don''t even know what to feel, nothing besides the shock and a cold dread of fear.


    I can only cling to his thin chest inside these frightening arms. I don''t even recall how long ago Lukas has disappeared from the scene. They were just talking but a few moments ago.


    Something I really shouldn''t have heard.


    These boys, who even are they?


    ----

 26 Pls increase the training

    Oi, why am I being increasingly surrounded by dangerous people?


    ...Okay, stupid question.


    Isn''t that part of the goal? Find more powerful people and ally them to my side? Resources aside. Rosalia didn''t know everyone and everything, let alone matters that didn''t pertain to her. I''ve already changed so much in the coarse of action in these two short years.Of course, there will be unexpected events and runs ins.


    It''s no big deal to be caught unaware with no idea with how to handle the situation.


    Still sucks though.


    The whole time since yesterday I was expecting some type of confrontation, something to spiral even more down a bad ending for me. But nothing came, there were no reactions or anything different in Amar''s, Lukas, or anyone''s behavior.


    Most likely Amar didn''t say anything to his friend, not to anyone.It''s possible he thinks I didn''t hear much anything, or if I did I wouldn''t be able to understand given my age.


    I don''t think that''s the case.


    He knew I was there. He knew it and patiently waited until Lukas left before immediately attacking. I could have been killed so easily. Just a little further, if he was a little more careless with that bade I would be dead.


    I don''t need such a dangerous reminder about how weak I am.


    I''m just a normal human child here. No enhancements, no magic, and barely any training. IF anyone or anything wanted to, I can be easily squashed. Like a little bug. Squish Squish guts and no more Rosalia.


    That''s still much better imagery than whatever happened last time I died.


    And so after contemplation and staying in a shocked anxious state all night I am throwing myself into training. What good are my cheat memories and ideas if I can''t save my own neck?


    After much thought, I have decided that whatever drama is going on here is not my active business. I won''t pass up the opportunity to find out more, if the chance comes by, but it''s not my priority. I must put myself first before anything and anyone else.


    "You sure you want to continue those, girl? Give up any time now little princess."


    I grit my teeth and keep holding the damn plank pose. At least it''s not push-ups.


    The instructor munching a fruit above me is of course Tamera. I''ve already done a full set of stretched and basic cardio and am now working on building arm and core strength. Sounds excessive for someone my age no?


    Apparently not because the people in grampa''s troops are absolute monsters!The children are absolute monsters and the adults shouldn''t even have to be mentioned.


    This much muscle strain is fine, I can still handle it. It''s not like I never worked out before. In these two years, I''ve tried to keep active and done basic safe exercises to build up my strength and flexibility, primarily for control since I physically could. But again control is just so hard for a child. Their hand-eye coordination is so oddly out of sync.


    I am no exception.


    So Tamara''s suggested weight and endurance training are much more productive for me as of now. I just need her to explain some things and advise in the way gym instructors do. Please teach me well so I can keep it up!


    "Geez you''re so hyped up today."


    "Yes MS. Tamera, I''m ready for anything you give me."


    I am absolutely fired up! Please teach me how not to die so easily.


    Also, please teach me how to use a weapon soon.


    All I have are practically useless memories of anime fight scenes and of random YouTube videos. They''ll give me plenty to work with creatively in the future but not right now, not unless I get some OP powers. Yeah, I don''t have much hope for that.


    Yet no one, not even me, trusts my strength to support a weapon yet, let alone the fine control to use one without injury.


    "Sorry Tamera, it''s probably my fault for scaring her before."


    "Oh dang back already kid? I don''t need to ask if you finished all 500?"


    Tamera half scolds have teases at the approaching child. I hope that the shivers that run through me aren''t visible, my instincts still screaming to run away from danger despite knowing better. It''s very similar to how I am around grampa sometimes.


    "Haha I''m not Lukas, done and accounted for."


    "Meh, you brats are basically the same to me. Can''t control your strength at all, try not to go stabbing civilians next time you''re out."


    "Yes Tamera, will do. But I can say the same to you."


    "That was like only 4 times and they practically asked for it."


    The official story that I graciously, fearfully, allowed Amar to tell everyone that night was that he and Lukas were out finishing their drills and practice hunting some game.


    They had split up at the end. Reasonably, that deep in the woods Amar has mistaken the rustleing of foliage as a game beast rather than a person and pounced.That''s when he found me, frozen on the spot but unharmed. I must have been shocked scared by the killing intent and the brandished weapon, which was how he brought me back.


    Of course, I have no reason to refute his words. It''s an easy believable story, not exactly wrong and saves me from thinking up another excuse for myself. I also won''t argue against or frame the one who just had a sharp dagger to my throat.


    About the issue beforehand, the words between him and Lucas- well if he doesn''t bring it up then neither will I. I don''t believe for one minute that this kid thought I was a cat or a fox or any other critter. He knew someone was there and listening, unfortunately, that person would be me. Either he wants to play dumb or thinks I don''t understand the matter.


    That works for me, not my business. I won''t pry about things I can''t handle. No more sharp pointy things to my throat or life, please.


    "Oi princess, you don''t have to scared of this one. Won''t harm a fly if it''s for orders. Now, Lukas, that kid is an absolute terror even for me, and I work with the actual monsters."


    "!!!"


    Tamera''s attempts at reassurance is odd but shows she must have noticed my nerves. Father was right, I need to practice schooling my emotions down better. But I can''t help but still be a little frightened of the older boy who just had me in a knife-hold, all over some damn eavesdropped secrets, not too long ago.


    "Haha sorry about that, it''s not her fault." laughs off the child responsible for my scare.


    "...."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Practice schooling those emotions Rosalia girl. You can do this, you''re a wonderful actress after all. Show father wrong!


    "...I''m sorry too, I shouldn''t have been wandering like that. I should have said something to alert my presence. It was my bad."


    I keep my head down in a polite gesture, eyeing any abnormal reaction through my hair. Nothing out of place, maybe I''m just worried about nothing. But better safe than sorry.


    "Yeah yea good ya''ll mad up. Amar train yourself better to tell the difference between civilians and others. Rosalia, I don''t know, I guess try not to get yourself killed so easily or something."


    Gee thanks, great advice.


    Tamera can''t help but laugh at her own joke while I can''t help the shiver that goes through my spine. That hit too close to home, far to close. She didn''t mean it like that but it''s the truth for me. My goal in life is ultimately not be killed! I have too many awful memories from before and this was too close a call.


    "Then is it possible to start advancing my lessons? We''ll be heading back south in the same direction in a few days. There would be plenty of time."


    "Eh I don''t know about that kid. These dangerous things aren''t exactly your speed yet."


    While she says this she pulls and near juggles a series of blades that seemingly appeared of nowhere. Watching her smooth graceful movements makes me realize the only thing I''ve been allowed to touch so far have merely been wood and a worn riding crop to practice handling a whip.


    More than just disappointment swells in me. There''s also fear, anxiety and unheeded dread. I''m so pathetically weak and this life is so dangerous.


    If I stay sheltered inside my whole life I''ll eventually be sacrificed and mercilessly killed, just like before. But to live beyond the protection of the manor means constant risk, from beasts and humans alike. I have faith in my intelligence to get me through and that intelligence is saying right not that I need strength.


    Literally, physical strength, in order to fend off being attacked before I can retreat. I don''t need to be a powerhouse like grampa or Tamera or even what these brats Amar and Lukas are.


    Just enough to survive, some cushion if I could spare it.


    I absently chew my lip as I quickly figure out how to respond to that. How do I convince Tamera to give me an opening? Just a little and I''ll worm my way through with self-training.


    "Um, if I may say something here?"


    "Hmm, a suggestion, that''s rare from you Amar."


    Tamera raises an eyebrow when Amar speaks up. She nonchalantly shrugs are she starts casually throwing blades at the bow. He catches and re juggles them one by one easily despite her lethal throwing speed. They act as if they''re conversing while handling supermarket vegetables instead of actual knives.


    Absolute monsters. Anyone that is approved by grampa must be monsters.


    "Why not start with wood then?"


    "That''s dumb, even for you"


    "I already did that!"


    Tamer deadpans simultaneously with me. Wooden swords and practice planks are standard procedure. We may not interact all that much but he''s been sidelining and passing by our training lessons enough to see that.


    "No, I mean why not start with a staff. a full wooden staff? If Rosalia wants to start using weaponry in an adaptable Southern-style then train up with a staff. I still like to use mine when I have the chance. It conditions the entire body in control, speed and agility without bloodshed."


    "A staff?"


    Well, that was unexpected. Like a glorified walking stick?


    Wait now that I think about it, it wouldn''t be a bad idea. There''s plenty of cool martial arts using a pole of some sort. A wise old master character isn''t complete if he doesn''t have a stick to mysteriously whoop ass. Not very flashy at first but yeah I can see how the training potential applies to future skills.


    No bloodshed indeed but plenty of bruises and broken bones to the other party. That reminds me of how I whacked the stupid prince in into a crying ball a couple of days ago. Yeah, I can live with this.


    "Huh a staff you say, or a bo. Yeah, those look simple enough no one would question it. Subtle. I remember using those, not too rusty yet."


    "Not at all Tamera, your lance techniques are also quite adaptable. I''d appreciate practice spars myself."


    "I''d beat your little ass if I could just hit you once."


    "Which is why I would love the opportunity to practice more. Everyone who''s ever free is so sword oriented, even Lukas. They''re not slow but you know how it is, ah you can even use your lance or test your new weapons on me."


    "Oi, where did you hear about those?"


    "I''ve heard others and then there''s Vincent, he talks a lot in his sleep. I actually don''t know if he''s actually sleeping."


    Oi wasn''t this training talking supposed to be for me? How was it redirected so easily?I''ll excuse it for now since it directly benefits me but isn''t this rather ominous?


    This ''dumb'' brat is a surprisingly smooth talker, will have note that.


    ----

 27 So, Let me tell you

    It has been an eventful time but I graciously bid adieu to the stuffy midway mansion of the Northern Federation''s royal family.


    I''ve always hated that place and a newly discovered crab feast source cannot change that. Those little things are quite tasty though, well that''s what travel and import is for.


    We''re back in the Ventrella capital mansion, two hours away from the stupid prince''s seasonal palace. It''s obviously not as grads but that''s what makes it so much more comfortable. There''s a lack of nature and wild woods in the capital city but I can actually breathe here, figuratively of course.


    Mother has been awaiting our return eagerly.


    She was having a lovey dovey moment embracing Father right outside the driveway when the carriage Lilyanne and I were in pulled up. How scandalous mother!


    I''m just joking, this is a standard sight for our household


    The ''noble'' standards of decorum are awkwardly strict in some parts int his world. Collaterally it gets worse as you go further North. God forbid PDA, which may explain part of the stupid prince''s personality. The king and queen there have never even held hands outside of ceremonies.


    My parents on the other hand are ''that'' idiotic couple and always have been. I''m honestly surprised they never had more children after Lilyanne and I.


    When our carriage properly parked the door was flung open and in a very grampa like fashion, mother has us both in her arms, one on each side. Also in a grampa like fashion she proceeded to smother us to death, in suffocating boobs and fluffy rings of hair rather than bear muscles.


    Mother please, I''m weak after the carriage ride....please... I need air.


    "Pweeesk ack mama! "


    See even Lilyanne can''t breathe!


    But bother overestimates our lung capacity and nuzzles us even further.


    "My my little darlings, how was your stay. Was everything alright, did anyone mistreat you? Any bullies or harsh servants?You can tell mama everything and I''ll punish who needs to be punished. Lily sweet did you listen well and clean your plate? Rosa my dear did you drink enough water during the ride, it helps with the sickness. Oh dear just look how eak you two are!"


    "My love, I think you should loosen your grip a tad."


    "Ohohohe Frederick darling don''t be jealous of your own children. I''ve shown you plenty of public affection earlier."


    "Maria while I do love your beautifully generous bosom but-"


    "Frederick! Such language!"


    "Dearest, the childrens'' small heads, and airways aren''t large enough to survive your hugs."


    "Oh!"


    Oxygen!!! Sweet sweet air!


    While Lilyanne and I desperately regain our breathes everyone makes to move inside. Dizzy spell and oxygen deprivation aside I''m feeling rather decent, the carriage ride only 2 hours long instead of something more torturous. I was also allowed to sit outside part of the time with the driver since we were accompanied by some of grampa''s trusted guards.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He and the rest of his troops are still stationed there but will rejoin us in a few days time before we set off for home.


    Sitting outside is much more bearable though the maids did wrap me up in the largest stupidest baby bonnet. Sun protection they said, which is a fair argument if they didn''t have something umbrella me the whole way already.


    Ah, the pampered life of a rich kid.


    Refreshments have been served in the parlor for a light but comfortable family lunch.


    I''ve been considered an odd child since I like to eat fresh vegetables raw. Like a rabbit they say.


    It''s called a salad people, get with the program.


    Due to my insistence, our family meals have over time incorporated fresh cut vegetables on the side and as a garnish. Once mother noticed a beautifying effect over consuming more of these rabbit food ''salads'' they''ve since become a mainstay at meals.


    I think she''s actually gotten more energetic and eating more regularly. The menu for many noble houses does tend to be on the overly rich and fatty side, though I personally think our household isn''t as bad. That''s just my parents'' tastes though.


    Since produce doesn''t cost as much compared to milled grains or animal products, even the home staff have taken to regularly consuming ''salads'' after I asked for help in creating ''dressing''. The variety of oils and vinaigrette dressings keep growing as the kitchen staff mix and match their creations.


    Stay healthy everyone, if you don''t eat your vegetables you will die.


    I wonder what will happen if I ask them to make mayonnaise or ranch. I''m only 2 but I already miss mayonnaise.Egg salad would be good. I will just have to ask for it and find out when we get back home.


    I''m interrupted from my future menu''s daydreams by a semi-worried mother.


    "Rosalia dear, are you feeling aright after all?"


    "Yes mother, the carriage ride is acceptable. If it''s simply that short. I''m not feeling sick,"


    "Oh darling."


    Mother bites her lip and gives a not so subtle stare at father. Ohhhh she meant something else then, my unfortunate engagement most likely. That father understands immediately.


    "Maria dear it will be alright. We''ve walked away with good conditions and the marriage isn''t exactly set in stone."


    Even if it was I''d find a way to chip and break away that stone. Hack and smash it to sand.I can''t imagine being in his company for an extended amount of time let alone married to that awful rock-like stupid prince.


    "I know but... they''re just so young. Oh, girls how did you like meeting the prince?"


    "Fun! He my frwend!"


    "Hate him."


    Just guess who said what?At least my parents have no problem telling. They have rather amusing expressions on their faces,a mixture of both conflicting and relieved.


    "Oh, really now. Why is that my dear?" asks mother to me specifically.


    Typical, but well it is my engagement after all.


    There''s no way to tell this story, it''s a lifetime long. A rather short life but one none the less. Instead I just drop all polite pretense and grimace, disgust undisguised.


    "I just hate him."


    "Did he bully you dear?"


    Both father and I break out into snort and laughter at that question.


    "Quite the opposite my love, it appears our Rosa is the one doing the bullying. They had a sword duel, all safe and supervised of course no worries. The poor boy needed a healer and was in absolute tears after, I laughed so hard when I read the report I offended half the present court."


    "Oh? Is the child really that weak? Our Rosa barely started any lessons and certainly not swordplay."


    "Perhaps but let''s not doubt our girl''s strength and violent enthusiasm."


    Mother nods at that and I''m not sure if I should be offended at how quickly she accepts that. Or father for even mentioning it in the first place. Excuse you! Why am I so easily accepted as violent?!


    "And was this before or after they were told?"


    "Before it was all official of course."


    "Mother, father I just don''t like him! We can be engaged as long as I don''t have to marry him in the end."


    To lighten to mood, and to avoid stewing in my own past thought I redirect the conversation.


    "He doesn''t even know what a crab is!"


    Yeah sure, that works, clear reason to not like a guy.


    "Those delightful freshwater crabs you sent back by the crateful? They''re quite delicate tasting"


    "Yes those, he called them spiders. Can you believe that? Lily tell them!"


    "Owie but crab yummy! "


    "Right Lilyanne, crabs are so yummy.


    The rest of the afternoon Lilyanne and I retell the tale of the crab hoards during our first meeting and our overall week to a doting pair f parents. It''s deceptively nice. Even if I''m being sold again, it''s not bad to settle into these peaceful moments.Where I can play house as if they''re really my family, as if I had one.


    But it''s more than Rosalia ever had, and for that ghost girl, I''ll fulfill her desperate wish for these little moments.


    ----


    After a much needed nap and some self imposed exercise routine, I''m back the lounging around with mother in the kitchen.


    Lilyanne is still resting but since I''m obviously wide awake mother has essentially put me in her pocket. The maids are very grateful for the supervision. I can''t get into much trouble with the boss lady here.


    "Your olive oil my lady."


    "Oh thank you, I just simply did not bring enough for myself. It''s been a while since I''ve come up here before summer, I near forgotten how dry it gets."


    "Yes the climate is far dryer inland. We can''t help but dip into the good cooking oil supply to use ourselves. Our hands would be sheer dreadful without it."


    "And that''s why we send plenty to keep in stock. I''ll make sure to place an order shipment when we arrive back home."


    As a woman, or well a girl now, myself I can''t resist listening into beauty talks. Our capital residence gets regular shipment of goods and supplies from our main house in the South, which includes the cooking staple of olive oil. It doubles in many other functions, such as the skincare mother uses.


    Our territory is filled with olive trees and thus oil production is plentiful. In fact, it''s a tent-pole product that the Ventrella family sells and exports. Prices can get quite high depending on taxes and how far it travels but for our household, it''s as common as water.


    I agree though that olive oil on it''s own is a great beauty agent but even that isn''t enough for mother''s soft supple skin to survive in this frost dried climate. You have to admit it is much dryer up here than it is at home. In the past, we women would near slather ourselves in olive oil to fend off the dryness during the spring, or worse winter, engagement visits.


    As great as olive oil is, isn''t it too simple on its own? It''s an important staple but it''s not a miracle worker. Well, no product is but some better soap and lotions would do wonders.


    Oh well, that gives me an idea.


    "Mama just use something thicker! Something more moisturizing."


    "What''s that Rosalia dear?"


    "Young Miss Rosalia, this old servant here has worked many years in the capital. I''ve tried many things recommended by various houses here but nothing works quite like our good old home''s olive oil. Truly we are blessed to have a good thing."


    "Mmm olive oil really is the best, but we can make it even better."


    I can hear the curious halt of nearby staff and the somewhat tired sighing of familiar voices. Ah, my home team is nearby, they''ve long recognized the signs of ''Rosalia has another idea again''. My ideas are a little troublesome to procure in this world yes but they''re worth it. The pizza was the result of one of them so no one can really complain.


    The head maid of the capital mansion gives me a doubtful but accommodating look. What was her name again? She''s a rather indifferent woman towards my past ''neglect'' but she served me well when directed. She''s a strict but competent worker and for that, I won''t torment her directly by playing around.


    "Mmm, I learned a few things while visiting the stupid prince''s house. It''s much dryer up where they''re from."


    "...Stupid prince? Oh dear, what is Frederick''s rude mouth teaching you now."


    Sorry but this particular mouth is all on me. But I won''t mind father taking the fall and getting a lesson on his shitty language.


    "Pardon, the royal residence you say?"


    A little white lie, just to ease things along. I doubt they use what I''m thinking of, at least not as refined of a product anyways. No one has to know after the product is finished.


    "Yes! We can use our own olive oil and home ingredients as a base to make it even better.If I could just get some helping hands and ingredients gathers I can show you."


    She looks doubtful but with my mother''s direct permission I have the authority here. My own regular staff is already getting on standby for another one of my perfectly reasonable and useful experiments.


    Too bad it''s not food this time.


    No, we''re going to make something a little more lasting.


    We''re going to make soap and cold cream.

 28 DIY Soap

    When I was in elementary school our school would sometimes have special presentations and events. We would learn many useful but silly things, it felt a lot like playing around. My most favorite event lessons may have been fingerprinting and folding paper lanterns


    Doesn''t mean I don''t remember the other things though.Such as that time we made soap.


    My more recent creative knowledge on soap making comes from those online videos you watch for fun. I may not have access to the internet anymore but I''ve procrastinated and watched enough videos to have a gist of what to do beyond the basics.


    Soap is sold as a luxury item in this world.


    This isn''t an issue for the wealthy Ventrella household but that doesn''t extend very far. The soap that mother uses isn''t bad but it is overly perfumed and not very moisturizing. Meanwhile, for cleaning, the staff uses a mix of fireplace ash and animal products.


    It''s time for a drastic change. My delicate senses cannot continue to live in these sad overly perfumes conditions.


    It took our dedicated staff two days to prepare my requested ingredients. Some easier than others but the majority of it was already in our household. I based the ingredients on what I thought we would have available and easily imported from our home territory.


    Lye, however, needed time to be made. I instructed for as much hardwood ash to be gathered as possible.


    For the most part, no one besides household servants would make use of the fireplace ash, and even then only a mere fraction of it. There are so many mansions and manors in this area that a little bit of asking around had the filtered white ash near dumped at our feet for free.


    Olive oil was the easiest to get since it was already sitting here in bulk. The quality comes in various grades though. For simplicity and safety, we shall be using a more quality filtered oil, cooking grade. Or ''virgin'' olive oil as modern folks know it.


    Other oils that were easy enough to gather include coconut, almond, and flowers from our territory.


    There''s also rose water, byproduct sold cheaply from some of the many perfumer businesses in the city. If a luxurious perfume is for those who can afford it then the runoff distilled water from boiling roses could be bottled and sold to the less stinking rich clients.


    Tis the season of spring rose boiling. It would be interesting to work with other flowers and scents too.


    Someone making a bulk purchase would be more preferable over bottling and waiting for the weak Eau De Toilets to sell. Which is how we have so much rose water. Did no one seriously figure out the skincare benefits behind this stuff? Why so much? Or is it just not profitable enough?


    Oh well, their loss is my gain.


    Lard is not a difficult product to obtain either. There are plenty of outskirt farms and more than enough butchered animals to grace the tiniest dinner tables in the capital. There''s also the leftovers from dismantled beat hunts. I''m more comfortable using just bovine based tallow but lamb and perhaps pig lard would work. We''ve gathered a lot more of it than I thought could be procured in such a short amount of time.


    In that case, we will just be making some big batches, many many batches of this stuff.


    Soap is my first priority due to the utter lack of it around here. My own baths are beginning to feel inadequate. While I can''t say I smell bad, it''s quite a mess to clean up after I tumble in the dirt or woods after exercise.


    The dryness here doesn''t help either.


    While cold cream can be personally used to fight against many skin concerns, I have a more economical reason for wanting to make it.


    The current time that I live in is one of peace.


    The great battles have been fought and the most dangerous of beast zones pushed back all thanks to Gramps and those who were influenced, or dragged along, by him. Thus for about the last decade or so humanity had the opportunity to grow and flourish.


    Don''t get me wrong, it''s still positively medieval around here. Many rural towns and communities have hardly seen development. It''s just much better without the threat of constant war, famine and death. Yeah, those are kinda sorta pretty detrimental to life quality...and just life in general.


    The initial recovery years have passed and the era for prosperity is coming. In general people''s quality of life is improving. They have savings now, savings that could be spent.Nobles with their old money are especially big fish in the water.


    If my ''experiment'' goes well then this is the start of my personal wealth. I may have the Ventrella name but only for now. What happens when I lose favor and get cut off? Even without the knowledge of Rosalia''s memories, it''s obvious to say I can''t stand on my own like this.


    I don''t have magic. I doubt I have the potential to be a powerhouse warrior and my influential background has a ticking time limit


    What can really secure me?


    Money.


    Now that I can have confidence in.


    If not soap and cold cream then I''ll think of something else. There''s plenty of lacking products that have a potential market here. Worst-case scenario I waste some supplies and will treat it as a child''s arts and craft project.


    But just in case it is profitable, production needs to be kept under wraps.


    Soap isn''t that difficult to figure out, people here have already been using a primitive mixture of ash, clay and animal fats. In our home kitchen, bacon lard was the fat of choice to scrub pots and pans. But luxury soaps that nobles use are trade secrets. Not even I can tell what''s in them, though I can guess.


    Right now I''m guessing a lot of perfume.


    I have primarily my own home staff assisting me today in a side kitchen. To account for all the extra help, I''ve separated the orders and have them working on different parts and pieces. Even if someone can piece together the ingredients list they don''t know what to do with them nor do they have the right ratios.


    I can''t trust those in the capital mansion not go around leaking or selling information. It''s too early to figure out who to trust here besides the impartial head maid.


    So by that reasoning, my poor home staff are trapped ''humoring'' their young miss today. Even George the jr chef can''t escape, especially George, my most used hands and feet. I''ll give you something very nice for your 16th birthday so keep it up Georgey boy!


    Shall I make him a facial cleanser for his acne? Oh teenagers, I remember what that was like.


    Right now he''s hard at work boiling and skimming the tallow. The little red poppies on his cheeks make me wince in pained sympathy.Maybe we should just make him that face wash right now? He''ll be a good tester model for my products anyways.


    "Are you sure we''re not making candles from this?"


    "I''m sure but why?Should we be making candles too?"


    "Maybe later on in the fall Rosa, we don''t need as many candles in spring and summer."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Oh ok, I see."


    I remember making those in school too. They were fun to dip on strings but molds would be much easier. Is there a market for luxury candles? I think our household uses a plain near scentless kind and oil lamps. There are also the lights that I just never questioned us having, magically powered I assumed. Those must be expensive.


    Well, George is right, we''ll just see about the candles matter during fall.


    In the meantime, I bounce around the different groups of working people. I''ve separated them into groups just like how an elementary teacher would with a class. Teams 1-6!


    George gets to be my assistant teacher and actual hands as I supervise everyone''s progress. Everyone is wearing cloth masks and makeshift wrappings as gloves. As funny as it looks, safety is the first precaution. Especially to those on lye stirring duty, that stuff can fume something foul. It''s a little worrisome to home make lye, it won''t be as good as the commercial products from modern times but hopefully, some salt will harden it to be less gooey.


    Mother oddly enough wanted to join in too. But since the labor is tediously intensive during the prep work phase, I advised her to swing by later instead.


    "Miss Rosalia here are the trays and mold."


    "Wonderful! Set them over on the clean table over there."


    I had to order boxes, trays and large enough molds to be made for this project. Soap making is quite an expensive hobby to set up in the beginning.


    Luckily I''m a rich girl with a lot of capable help to find and fund everything so easily. Everything is mostly made out of wood and I kept the metal muffin tin style molds as simple as possible. Two days was plenty of time to get everything perfectly in order.


    My plan is to make a big batch of mixed tallow and mixed olive oil soap bars. This is the recipe I''m most confident in succeeding. It will have a little of every oil to stabilize it and the variety of properties will make some solid house soap.


    I guess worked my recipe according to the 4 properties in a good soap.


    -Hard, stable, long-lasting: Tallow


    -Moisturizing/Conditioning: coconut oil and a bit of castor oil


    -Lathering: Olive oil! Has the highest ratio in the recipe.


    -Super moisture!: Almond oil


    There''s also the lye for purification but the ratio is, of course, a secret.


    Normally the recipe would use plain distilled water but we were able to get so much distilled rose water. It would be a waste not to use it. I''ll split the house batch in half using plain water and rose water, for comparison. The rose water added half will go into the prettier molds rather than the long rectangular boxes used to make bar soap.


    The secondary batch will be an animal-free soap using primarily olive oil once again. It will be considered a ''castille'' soap then though no one seems to be able to understand the word. Well, let''s just call it the Olive Oil soap for now. It won''t be pure since I plan on adding coconut and palm oil to reduce sliminess and for some better lathering effects. I suspect older generations and those used to olive oil back home would prefer this product.


    The rest of the 3rd batch will be made up of miscellaneous ingredients and ratio experiments. I''m not a genius and while I think my memory is pretty good it''s not like a photographic memory. I can''t recall ALL the right ratios and recipes for all the nice scents and varieties out there. So this is my ''allowed to fail'' for fun batches.


    Most of them are variations on the ''house'' soap give or take some ingredients. For example, there will be a box for ''milk'' soap replacing all water with whole fat milk.It will be fun to see what works and what doesn''t. I have high hopes even if some of these batches will most certainly fail.


    Mother comes in while the teams were taking turns whipping the soap mixtures till it thickens and traces. It''s hard work without an electric mixer. We must have made an awful sight in our safety gear vicariously churning bowls of soap mix.


    I forget that whisks aren''t even a thing here!


    "Are these mixing correctly?"


    "Oh it''s steaming!"


    "Miss Rosalia? What now?!"


    Everyone tried to reassure me that we could mix very hard using a ladle but I was insistent on tying forks and sticks together. After some time and a lot of sore arms, everyone switched over to using my makeshift whisks.


    Didn''t I say to just listen and follow me? Of course, I''m right. Hmmpf!


    I got my arm workout of the day for sure, after all, someone had to demonstrate how to and when to properly stir.Mother did pretty well for herself actually, she lasted a full 10 minutes of some surprisingly fast stirring before needing a break.


    The scooping and pouring into the molds was much more fun, and a lot less exhausting. I think everyone in the room would agree as they all gathered around for the first pour. It was probably the best part with people socializing, laughing and overall having a good time playing with soap making.


    I accepted suggestions for additions in making the various 3rd batch. It was a lot like leading a classroom of excited children, except for the fact that I was the sole child in a room of teens and adults.


    Oh how the roles have flipped.


    An unfamiliar young maid caught my attention during this part. Not one of my own. She''s a little gangling thing with sandy blond hair and a splattering of freckles peeking out through her all safety wraps.


    "You, what your name?"


    "Epp! Uh, me-me?"


    "Yes you with the pigtails and freckles. The one holding a whole orange."


    "I''m so-so terribly sor-rr-rry Miss Rosalia, I''ll put it away right aw- w-aay."


    "Stop apologizing and just answer me! I like your idea! Citrus works as an amazing cleanser, so what is your name and position?"


    Abigail is 13 years old this year and has recently come to the capital to train in something beyond her family''s grain miller. She''s the middle child of 6 and blah blah blah whatever I''ll take her.


    The head maid supervising gave me the ok right away. Ignoring the pure shock on Abigail''s face, her work contract is basically mine now.


    Hey now don''t worry, following me isn''t a bad deal here.


    She was a solid learner throughout the process but her excitement and creative suggestions at the end was interesting. I won''t be so egotistical to think only I would think of adding fruit but she thought of it all on her own.


    Of course, I only allowed her to add the zest and peels off the citruses she chose. Mashing the whole fruit in is a little much, the wet flesh wouldn''t preserve well.


    This was after a round of mass applause and congratulation for Abigail''s ''promotion''. That and after we got her off the floor. I''m only so tall at my age, you really don''t have to drop crying at my feet.


    Really please stop, it''s awkward for me too.


    The last thing to be made after cloth wrapping all the soap was the cream and some impromptu rose water toner.


    Soap making is too tiring, we have to end with the easy things.I sent the rest of the staff to clean up and set the soap to cure.


    The rest is so simple to make that just George and I are enough. Mother of course stayed with us as an interested audience and helping hand. The fact that these are all the people in the room I can trust 100% is also a factor.


    Moisturizing cream was just as simple as I remember it being with oil, scents and a lot of tallow. Yes that''s right, whipped rendered animals fats. This is what will revolutionize the skincare industry here. While I''d personally prefer to use a cold cream made of beeswax, I won''t knock a good thing just because I perceive it to be a little gross. The finished product is a completely different thing no one would suspect. There''s nothing like this in the market right now nor will there be according to my memories.


    This is the potential white gold of this world, as long as I use it right.


    Since we had trace leftovers I threw in the almond and floral oils as well. It would whip and cool in large milk buckets before we transfer it over some more appropriate jars later.


    Our dry skin is saved!


    For the rest of the rose water, I''ve had the head maid make a special last minute delivery of witch hazel. We sealed 3 modern beer sized bottles of that acne curing stuff.


    I leave two of the bottles to mother for her own beauty use and safekeeping. It''s great for skincare even if you don''t have problematic pimples.


    Thus the final bottle is gifted to my faithful George.


    Sorry for making you whip so much stuff and overall working you to death with me. Please pat this on your clean face in the morning and at night.Some of the tallow cream is for you too, when it cools that is.


    There''s no one watching besides an amused mother and the head maid here, which is good since a 15 year old boy tearing up is a rather awkward sight. Thankfully he recovers much more gracefully than Abigail did earlier, dramatically wiping a not so fake tear from his face.


    "To think our little Rosa would already be gifting things out. They grow up so fast."


    "Hmmpf! Let''s just hurry up and get to dinner, I''m starving!"


    Enough mushy stuff, my arms are sore. Soap making is hungry work!

 29 On the Road

    The wheels on the shitty carriage goes round and round, round and round round and round~The wheels on the barf machine goes round and round, let me go outsiiiiiiide~.


    Did you know that ''annoying'' is an effective tactic against even the fussiest of maids?


    After many rounds of sing along renditions of terribly annoying nursery rhymes, they have finally relented. Either way, they''re terrified, if they don''t allow me to possibly cause trouble outside then I''ll give them ''trouble'' inside.


    I can only get away with such behavior as mother and father are riding in separate from us at this moment. A couple needs their alone time, especially one as young and gross as they are.We''re also much more protected with grampa''s current rotation of mercenaries and training troops. Just the presence of grampa makes everyone feel much safer.


    Safe enough to consent in throwing me and my lovely singing outside the carriage.I''m glad I didn''t have to start singing ''99 bottles of beer on the wall''. That song is even more crushingly irritating.


    I was catching my breath outside by the drivers seat when a tall ominous beast rode up parallel to us.


    "Riding outside, does my Maria know about this young lady?"


    "Hi grampa."


    "That''s it?! No enthusiasm for your grampa dearest?"


    "Lilyanne is inside and would love to see you too grampa."


    "Ah my sweet Lillyanne!"


    "Hi! Hewo! Grampy! "


    The two wave to each other happily across the carriage window, matching grins on their faces. They really look similar like this, definitely related. Technically that would mean I physically share this resemblance too, but no. The original Rosalia and I lack a certain quality, the kind of easy light in your favorite airy protagonist. You either have it or you don''t.


    Well that''s fine, I''m not the protagonist of this story anyways. It''s too much drama to be a main character. I''m already in enough danger as it is.


    "Rosalia my dear vigorous granddaughter, you have the right idea! It''s a lovely day for a ride."


    "....yes and?"


    "Come take my hand and let''s be off with the sun and wind!"


    "No really what? Ack! Grampa!!! AAAAhh put me down!"


    See life isn''t fair, Lilyanne gets to sit motion-sick-less in a cushy carriage. The moment I escape from the vomit box I get dragged off like a sack of...something very small and throwable. You can''t just hold children this way, it''s not safe nor sane!


    I''m normally not afraid of heights but I''m a tiny toddler! Horses are already huge creatures but Grampa''s steed isn''t a mere average horse. I don''t think it''s even really a horse!Worse, I''m not even on the horse, grampa is just kitten holding me by the back of my neck. I''m not even on the speeding beast but swinging in the air by its side!


    "Waaaah fun! Bye bye Rosa! Bye bye grampa!"


    Not fun not fun not fun at all, please get me away from this crazy man! No don''t you dare drop me! I''m soft and squishy! No, my squishy little body is not enough to absorb the shock! Let me up already you crazy old coot!


    Finally the world''s worst grandfather sets me on the saddle in front of his seat. Good beast horsey, nice beast horsey, don''t let your rider swing me around again.


    Certainly the man who has made me cry the most in all lifetimes is not the stupid prince, rather doesn''t that title obviously go to grampa here? What an insane man. No matter how much he pets my head comfortingly or how warm and fluffy this horse thing is I am still traumatized.


    "Lord Commander you certainly have a way with children."


    "Haha yes I finally tuckered this one out."


    I wouldn''t use the term'' tuckered out'' as if we were merely frolicking through the flowers. Who would dangle someone over the open hair of a speeding magical beast , especially one as light and delicate as as oh I don''t know a literal toddler!


    The surrounding soldiers all laugh as if they were conversing over a picnic. The contents, however, were much more horrifying,


    "Haha no mercy even for your own kin."


    "This IS Lord commander being nice. So gentle!"


    "Yeah Remember that first test course when we enrolled all those years ago? I know I was already 13 then but still. "


    "How could anyone? ''Just go straight" he said, yeah through the giant''s devil mouth! Through the teeth and intestines, avoid the acid slimes trying to eat you. "


    "That''s nothing, what about diving for harpy eggs? In front of nesting harpies?! I''ll take anything other than mother harpies again. All because he wanted an omelet!"


    "Oh what about that one time we had to-"


    "...."


    The horror stories keep coming from the idle riding soldiers as we travel along the open road.


    What?


    What is all this? I knew my grampa was insane but this is the first I''m hearing so much of it directly. These tales were never as brazenly gruesome. Who let such a mad man be in charge of so many people?


    I try to resist but I fail, slowly I turn my neck to gaze up upon the face of the monster. It looks like the stubbled face of the kind of man who coaches his children''s sports team and goes to farmer''s markets on Sundays....what a terrifying disguise.


    This goes to show one can never trust smiling people.


    "Hahaha! you guys all exaggerate, it''s nothing we can''t all handle! You should have seen me in my youth! Ahahaha!"


    "Lord commander sir weren''t you raised in the wilds by beasts?"


    "Why yes! What a free and natural childhood it was!"


    EHH? That wasn''t a joke?! I thought that was just grampa pulling on our legs and keeping his past a mystery. Who is raised in the wild by beasts and lives to adulthood? Princess Mononoke?!


    A reincarnated person possibly, that''s who.


    Though this does partly explain grampa''s absolutely barbaric tendencies. He was a feral child, duh.


    "Everyone complains too much, I bet my soft darling little granddaughter here could run through all those practices with ease. You''re all just being mean."


    I feel a strong shiver erupt through me at his childishly pouting face. Grampa don''t tell me....


    I take terrified glances at the troops around me. Some are nonchalantly laughing as if all was expected. Some gave me looks, pitying glances and a shake of the head while others looked away in complete avoidance. That''s all the hint I need.


    "...Grampa....what did you mean by that? Why is everyone''s expressions all funny?"


    My mind flashes to the hilarious training sequences of every anime protagonist and movie lead ever.I think of weighted turtle shells, being chased by dinosaurs, the wax on wax off over and over and every other cliche trope under the sun and internet.


    Surely grandfather wouldn''t be thinking of throwing me into anything like that right?


    Right?!


    "Oh Rosa my dear I slipped up, I was hoping to keep it a surprise for you. I know how easily bored you get. You have my blood after all, you need to see more of the world. Find your path of growth!"


    "...."


    I don''t like where this is going.


    "You''re such a fast learner, I heard you''ve already took the initiative to get to know some of my circle members. I expected you might get to know the ones closer to your age but yes Tamera and Vincent are quite fond of you! Oh the tales they tell me! I''m so glad to see you''re getting along!"


    "...Ah ....yes...I''m very glad to befriend them as well."


    "As your family head though and more importantly as your Grandpapa, I can''t help but to feel that I''ve been neglecting you far too much."


    "No....most certainly not, not at all grampa! You have never neglected me, everything is perfectly fine, haha."


    "No no no Rosie my vigorous little sprout, it''s all on me and my own lacking. Just because my dearest Maria didn''t suit the the adventurous or military life style doesn''t automatically extend to you! Maria was just so insistent on ending all drills and exercises and forbade me from ever mentioning it to her again."


    I hear the various voices of support and prayers for mother. They sound very religious with all their "Praise Lady Maria", "May we be as strong as our fair Maria"and"Blessed be Maria,she who survived.".


    Mother? Mother had to go through your hell regime of a lifestyle? Gramps what did you put our pretty delicate mother through?!!


    "Still it''s no excuse for the lack of attention I''ve showed you. If not for your father''s stern requests I could have stayed blind to your reaching out behavior!"


    "My behavior? And father said something?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Yes! The blood of a hero runs through your veins. All that sneaking off and your initiative for training! You must be feeling the thirst of adventure! How could I be so blind to your dreams?!"


    "No, that''s really not it. That''s not it at all grampa! Thank you for your very considerate support but it''s really not necessary. I can handle ever-"


    "Oh no need to be modest with me little lady! You''re just like Freddy here, even after all these years. I''ll arrange as much of my time this trip back together as possible! I know how ill you get during carriage rides anyways."


    His burly bear hands knock my askew bonnet loose again as he ruffles my hair. ''Ruffled'' is putting it lightly, please don''t noogie small children, ever. My skull isn''t fully sealed yet at this stage of age, what if you permanently misshapen my head?


    "Eep! No really gramps, I''m good! No need for this!"


    "Nonsense my dear! Oh good, Zarkor is nearly here, I just need to grab that thing, oh where did I put it?"


    As Grampa rustles through a storage compartment on his steed, which is still going at the near terrifying speed of a small car, a UFO approaches from overhead. With each passing second it gets closer and closer to the point I can make out the vague shape of a bird.. A messenger pigeon hybrid perhaps?


    It''s huge. The magnificent beast could easily pass for a mythical phoenix or a legendary Pokemon. The beautiful beast shines golden with an underlay of decadent feathers. Its wings look as if it''s on a rainbow fire, the source of the sun and light itself. I''ve never seen such a large magical winged creature in any lifetime, let alone one as fantastical.Various steeds and carts in the procession slow if not stall completely to gaze upon its shining glory.


    "Ah, there it is! Rosa my dear hold this."


    He rummages a basketball sized apple from a tiny little plain bag before unceremoniously dumping the bag, strap and all over my head and neck. The beast flies past and rounda about, it''s intelligent but indescribable eyes focusing on specifically on us.


    "Zarkor catch!"


    With the strength of a comic book, Superman grampa launches the apple straight into the flying beasts line of flight. Its giant beak opens to consume the fruit in gruesome fanged manner, not like a bird at all. When did giant birds get rows of shark teeth!?!


    "Good job, here comes the second one and no more till the end!"


    The flying beast, a god of all birds and the skies lets out a screeching caw as if it was an everyday dog playing catch with it''s owner. Which given the idea that grampa is that said owner makes astounding sense. A monster.


    I expected there to be another apple ball nearby, somewhere he could just pull out. Anyone would think so, even the surrounding troops.


    Who would have thought he would grab me in the same arm, pull back and in the next fraction of a moment sent me flying into the air.


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


    Who launches babies?!?!!!!! OH God I''m dead, dead from velocity, dead from screaming and soon to be very dead from monster birdo here!


    I close my eyes and scream my lungs out towards my imminent death, not even registering what''s fully going on or how ''grampa'' chose to be rid of me. Who cares, it''s all over, I''m a shooting star about to be bird food!


    I don''t know what''s worse, the fact that I lived or that the Zarko bird thing grasped me in it''s bottom talons. Its'' claws don''t touch my skin and it doesn''t physicality hurt in any way. I still scream bloody murder as I''m carried off in the distance like the prize in a claw machine.


    "We''ll catch up to you seen Rosalia dear! Do your best to hold out, I''ll see you in 3 days!"


    A dot on the ground that sounds a lot like the world''s worst grampa booms and waves from below. I''d be a lot more concerned with what he''s saying, iiiifffff I WASN''T BEING FLOWN OFF BY A GIANT BIRD!


    What did he say? 3 days?


    3 Days of what?!?!


    ------


    Down on the ground:


    "Lord commander, did you ever inform your daughter and son in law of this plan?"


    "Oh yeah! I forgot about that!"


    "...You forgot to tell the Young Lord and Lady their two year old will suddenly be surviving in the wild?"


    "Just slipped my mind!"


    "It''s slipped your mind you''re leaving a mere babe out there for 3 days?!"


    "Did I say 3? What is the estimated time of arrival till we reach Geode Springs?"


    "Did you say the Geode Springs!?! It will take us 5 days but only if we hurry!"


    "Oh well...."


    "...."


    "...it''s fine if we just don''t tell them right?


    "...."


    "Yeah, we''ll just not say anything, she''s technically with me anyways, by my command! Everyone got that?"


    "..."


    "..."


    ",,,,:


    "Good talk everyone!"


    ----

 30 Dropped Off

    A basketball apple


    A beast tooth knife the size of my arm


    A water flask


    A firestone lighter


    2 strings of rope


    3 mild healing potions


    And one hand written note from "Your dearest grandpapa~"


    This was all the stuff that was inside the tiny inter-dimensional bag that grampa strapped on me. After the godly canary flew me over mountain ranges and fields of wilderness, it just plopped me into a tree. Didn''t even set me down closer to the ground, just perched on a big enough tree for it to land and that''s it.


    Ride complete, would rate 2/10. Would not tip. As terrifying and uncomfortable as it is to fly by giant chicken feet, at least I wasn''t crushed or dropped to my death. Two points for that fact alone.


    Oh and it took the basketball apple thing, fair trade.


    The note left behind specifically said:


    "So you''ve been dropped off on your own for the first time! Your quest, my lesson to you, is not much. Just survive!


    A special section of my troops and I will be meeting you up ahead in a few days time.The bag has a sensor to track your location so keep on you at all times. I''m so glad to share this bonding experience with you. Stay alive and preferably whole till we next meet! :D"


    Yes, it does end with a doodle of his own smiley face....


    SHITTY GRAMPA!!!!!


    Shit Shit Shit Go die in a ditch!


    I don''t deserve this shit.


    He even gave me an inter-dimensional bag but there''s near nothing in there, not even food. I didn''t even know such a thing existed here, it''s just that rare I guess.


    What''s the use of such a cheat item if it''s not even stocked? Out of spite, I''m going to fill this thing with rots and bugs for Grampa to find later. It doesn''t right anything extra if I do add things, that''s the magic of it.


    But first I need to finish climbing down this tree. That I can thankfully do, the rope is useful here.


    If it was Lilyanne I''d be trapped till all 3 days are up. That or fall right out of the tree and die upon impact. See this is why Lilyanne would never get thrown out here. Just lucky lucky good ol lucky little me.


    I''d curse out loud if I didn''t have the common sense to keep silent in a wild forest. I''m not alerting anything to my presence if I can help it, not getting killed that easily.


    The safest thing to do really may just be stay put up in the tree. Just stay and sleep, conserve energy until I''m saved. I have water and while I''ll go hungry I can realistically survive without eating for 3 days.


    But that''s not how to play the messed up game with grampa.


    If I had money I''d bet big that I''m not really alone out here. If I stay still there''s no guarantee I''ll be left alone at peace. Things could always get worse, and it could easily be arranged. It''s not worth taking such a risk.


    For one that monster bird could still be around keeping an eye on me. Grampa did say he would be seeing it later. I may have seen it fly off but it could be about anywhere.


    There''s also a good chance he''s sent someone, possibly even a crew of his own troop members out here ahead of time. It''s not impossible for there to be others silently watching over me as we speak Either as spies or to guard survival, that I don''t know.


    With constant kidnapping threats out there he wouldn''t put me in a dangerous situation. As ridiculous as it seems there''s no way I''d be absolutely alone not am I in a true wilderness. This is an area he knows or even has under our family territory.


    Whatever''s out here I''m safe from other humans at least.


    That''s what I reason as I shimmy my way down the tree.


    After taking the time to make a full observation of my surrounding that is. I''m already up here, might as well take advantage of it.My best bet is to find a road, one that leads to the path our family carriages will route through.


    If not that then a stream or waterway. Life is always centered around water, whether in nature or leading to civilization.


    I take a moment to calm down, have some water and make a mental map of what I can see from up here. The direction I came from, which mountain range is probably which according to my memories. I was expecting to find myself possible sources of food, shelter, avoidance of danger and to make sense of my directions.


    I wasn''t expecting to see smoke.


    Blatant obvious smoke, curling up from a thin controlled line. As if it was from a fire set inside a properly made chimney.


    Not alone indeed, someone is living out here, surviving in something more permanent than a camp. There then, I''ll head there.


    Now it may seem stupid to just head into a stranger''s residence in the middle of the forest. Cabin in the Woods anyone? Goldilocks? Yeah, all lessons of how that''s a very bad idea.


    But I''m living against a nonsensical world that may be worse than your average horror story. Say there are no guards. I, a normal physical two year old human, am exposed to the elements. If it gets too hot, too cold, or a beast comes along I''m as good as dead. My chances already aren''t too great out here.


    So to the smoke source, it will be!


    Just one problem. It''s going to be a very long walk.


    On the way, I found a good sized branch for me and whittled it down with the fang blade grampa so generously packed. A walking stick will be good for conserving my strength energy and I can use it as a basic Bo staff.


    As annoying deceptive as Amar is I''ve been able to start the basics of using a staff because of him. Tamera ran me though the start and positions while Amar showed me some easy beginner tricks.I can at least sweep and be prepared to keep something at a relative distance.


    For an easier grip, I''ve already ripped the bottom layer of my dress to tie into makeshift gloves. It''s too long and fluffy. I''m dressed as a noble''s pampered child ready for a long carriage ride, not a hiker. It''s a tripping hazard and would get in my way while traversing the elements.


    I adjust my bonnet into something closer to a protective bandanna and make sure the bag is wrapped sturdily around my body. It''s the best I can do with what I have.


    And I''m off.


    It would be foolish to walk brazenly out in the open. Someone else may not think twice about just walking, their either powerful enough to do so or just that ignorant. I can''t take the risk of being too loud or being spotted as easy prey in this unknown place.


    Instead, it''s much safer to stay quiet and crouched along the edge of trees and foliage. Out of sight and among the shadows. It''s also effective against straight-up sunburning.


    Along the path I mentally mapped out, I was lucky enough to encounter potential food sources. Puffball mushrooms are the most common sort of wild mushrooms, safe and easy. The pure white marshmallow looking shrooms are edible even when raw and have a fluffy texture true to their name. It would help make up the vast amount of calories I''m burning today.


    How cruel of grampa to not even pack me some food, not even a snack.


    I didn''t each much this morning since I was accounting for nausea during the long carriage ride. How was I supposed to know I wouldn''t get that luxury this time around?


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Whenever I spotted a patch of the puffballs or something I was absolutely sure I recognized as safe I would cut a few to throw in the bag. Popping a few in my mouth on the way while walking. I won''t starve, can''t afford to starve! I''m a decent camper and naturalist, this won''t stop me!


    Ah how funny, I just remembered something from a long time ago. Even though I push it back, it still fits through the cracks in my mind.


    "See even if we dropped you in the middle of nowhere you won''t starve."


    "Mmm! I know daddy! I''ll remember the camp guide!"


    "Yeah you would stay chubby no matter what."


    "Daddy!!!!"


    If I close my eyes I can still see a portly older man, wrinkled and warm, as we walked back hand in hand to my granny''s countryside home. I can still see that old farm, and that too big but too crowded faded pink house on the dirt road. I can hear mom scolding us for being late,still, hear the clucking chickens and the sound of all my relatives chattering over the TV as they cooked and set the tables. I still can taste the cool slightly bitter iced tea, white rice, fried fish, and all the fixings. I even remember how good it tasted to win the fight for the last piece of sticky rice and coconut dessert against all my cousins.


    I opened my eyes and they were all gone. It doesn''t matter if I can still see them in my mind or not, they''re not really here, and I can''t go back.


    Ah, just as I thought.


    It''s still too painful, I can''t remember anymore. I don''t want to remember much anything anymore, not for awhile. Mentally I''m very much an adult, I''ve lived over two lifetimes.


    Why does it still hurt? It must be the stress of being dropped out and abandoned like this. It''s really ridiculous of me.


    I miss my family, my real one.


    I miss my mom, and dad and even my younger brother. I miss our stupid dogs. I miss calling my friends and crying over our work and social lives with drinks. I miss....I miss...having people who actually cared about me.


    Pathetic, aren''t I?


    Mommy...Daddy....I''m scared. I admit it, I''m scared.


    I know I''m a big girl now, have been for awhile. But I never really grew up I guess. Now I''m all alone in another world and I''m just so scared. In a way, I''m always scared of something. I''m still a coward.


    It''s not a safe place here, not a very good place. I''m not just talking about the literal woods I''m in.


    I''m a rich girl now mama, there''s magic here daddy.


    Bit it''s nothing like home. I miss home.


    Why did I come here? Why me?


    Is this my punishment for something? I wouldn''t call it hell but this is not a peaceful place to go after death. There'' too much drama, too many maybes and things to prevent before this little life of mine spirals.


    I still can''t remember how I even died then, it''s been two full years now.


    Rosalia is already two.


    However, it happened my parents would have been so mad at me for dying first! Definitely, even if they''re sad they would have been yelling at my grave. Haha ....ah...they would have had to bury me...


    ...I''m sorry.


    Sorry for leaving everyone behind, sorry for making you guys deal with the aftermath.


    I''d go back if could, honest. I''d leave this scary place where I have to plan for my future downfall and survival any day. My life wasn''t the best but....it was warm.


    I said I would move on when I first reincarnated here. I have to move on and live. But is it okay if I feel terribly lonely? Mommy and daddy, is it okay if I miss you? Is it okay if I cry for you even though you won''t come for me anymore? Did you bury me with these same tears and grief?


    Sorry sorry, stupid questions, I know.


    The only things I can blow my nose on are the full leaves on passing trees.


    What a waste of water, this will only dehydrate me faster.


    But I keep walking towards that smoke, hidden and safe.


    I keep going as I forage the low hanging apricots and hide from slithering beasts much larger than myself.


    I keep going no matter how hot and angry I feel because it''s easier to be angry than it is to be sad.


    If my eyes are still wet and I''m hiccuping back childish sobs well then, no one ever has to know.


    ----

 31 Whats in the woods? or who

    Wild apricots are surprisingly delicious.


    Seriously this stuff is so good the moment I finished one I immediately U-turned back to where I found them. A little tree climbing and fruit knocking bagged me a couple of dozen of them.


    There''s nothing wrong with mushrooms and surviving on what you can


    But the taste just can''t be compared to sweet juicy fruits like apricots. I do not stress eat, I''m a growing girl in need of nutrients.


    Not as edible in it''s current state, is the fruit of the nearby lemon tree. They smelled good though so a few went into the inter-dimensional bag anyways. How much can fit in here anyway?


    It''s an unfortunate delay when I have such short legs, my traveling speed isn''t that good. It''s possible but I doubt I can make it to the source of the chimney smoke by nightfall. I rather stay safe and healthy than risk anything just to make it there a little faster.


    It would be bad if I collapsed out of hunger and weakness. Slow and steady wins the race. Don''t be impatient.


    Still, I make my way through as quickly and efficiently as I could, stopping only to forage when it''s convenient enough.


    How was I suppose to ''adventure'' or train out here at my current age and strength? Survive what, stress? Everything can literally kill me with little to no effort. What was I supposed to level up after killing something? Find my spirit animal companion out here? Unlock latent maybe magical abilities after encountering danger?


    What shit reasoning does grampa have for throwing me out here? It''s got to be some kind of trap or a test.


    Won''t work, I promise.


    If Rosalia had any latent abilities to unlock she would have figured it out before she was murdered. Since she''s obviously died once before, gruesomely may I add,I''d say there''s no chance of that.


    So sure, let''s just enjoy this lovely little hike. This totally not deadly hike through an unknown forest crawling with who knows what! That''s the best attitude to proceed with, unnecessary stress is harmful. I''m too young to get stress wrinkles!


    For hours I trek along in that condition, taking very necessary snack breaks along the way.


    When the sun starts setting I have no choice but to find a suitable spot to stay for the night. Now if a soft tasty little thing like be had to spend the night in the wilds, where would I go?


    There were no suitable caves and such hiding spots. A burrow? Too much effort. Perhaps some bushes and foliage to cover myself?


    Ha!


    Like I''m going to stay on the ground as easy prey.


    Up a tree, I go.


    Using the aid of the ropes I secure myself up a leafy vantage point with thick enough branches to rest in. I select a part of the tree that branches out into a V, The corner nook is large enough for me to rest on but I secure additional safety ties with the ropes. Then cover the empty spaces with foliage earlier gathered and stuffed into the inter-dimensional bag.


    Nothing fancy, just survival tactics to stay as safe and comfortable as possible. Nothing but the sturdiest branches and softest leaves for my nest.


    It needs to be layered quite well to be a decent nap nest but I''ve been diligent in my foraging.The inter-dimensions bag could certainly support whatever I threw into it. Including rocks.


    Yes, I stuffed rocks, big ones, into the bag. I wanted to see much it could hold.


    I still have absolutely no idea how it works. I give up trying to reason anything. Magic then! It''s a magical bag where physics and sense don''t apply. A fantastical magical bag in a magical world of shit.


    I''m keeping the damn bag when this is all over.


    It''s been hours of walking, climbing, and gathering. I''m still on edge but exhausted. Once I''ve covered myself with enough leaves, it''s lights out. It''s already amazing how I trekked on through my nap times.


    When your body lacks the sleep it needs make up for it with calories, which I tried to do. But how could wild mushrooms, leaves and the occasional fruit be enough to make up for this shit?


    Before the last rays of sunlight fades my exhaustion catches up to me.


    Through the dark night, I''m jolted awake multiple times. The cold, the odd sensations of my limited sleeping perch, and the unfamiliar sounds of nature keeps me on a sense of alert. But I''m an easy sleeper, it doesn''t take long to confirm a lack of danger and roll back to dreamland each and every time.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    It''s more important to sleep, to recharge as much energy and warmth as possible.


    I don''t know what creatures roam the forest here at night. They don''t stalk the trees, not on this particular night. I don''t know when dawn hits nor how the fog rolls through the early morning. I was too deep, too heavy with fatigue that lingered like a heavy blanket through the peaceful morning.


    Safe to say I overslept a bit.


    So much for saving time, well it''s not like I could get up right at daybreak anyways.


    The layers of leaves helped stave of the chill off the night but a tree nest is not a warm bed. Not anywhere close. I don''t even dare to light a dire in fear of being found by wild beasts. not while in a tree at least.


    The good thing is that the leafy nest was easy to clean up. A little raking, undo the roped and flip the inter-dimensional bag over it.


    Done. Oh, I am so keeping this thing, grampa be dammed.


    After a couple of hours moving in the same manner as yesterday, I came across a nice flowing stream of water.


    Now I''m a delicate little human, essentially a baby. I won''t overestimate and overexert myself. I don''t believe it would be smart to solider through the hottest part of the day when there''s a perfectly good rest and restock spot here.


    Since I foraged so much I could afford to start a fire and grill. There are no grill or cooking utensils though. A DIY mini rock oven over an activated firestone does the job better than a standard campfire, it''s easier to assemble too. If you stack enough flat river stones together and leave enough room for a fire and cooking space it actually turns into a functional little camping oven.


    For cooking utensils, my carving skills aren''t good but I can at least whittle long twigs into a pair of chopsticks. Ah, I miss chopsticks. I wonder if it''s possible to popularize them here?


    Really though I amaze myself with my own resourcefulness, good job me!


    Cooked mushrooms and greens taste better than raw ones, even without seasoning. It will make things much easier to eat and this way they don''t get burned from heat. Grilled fruits such as apricots taste good too.


    Catching fish is currently out of my skill range however I was willing to risk time and effort for the chance of delicious protein. The rock stack griddle needed time to heat up anyways.


    At first, I was going to make a makeshift net by sacrificing more of my clothing and tying that with the ropes. Thank goodness grampa gave me those things at the very least.


    But then a much stupider idea hits me.


    Why not use the inter-dimensional bag? Items are somehow kept safe and separated from each other in a seemingly immeasurable inventory system, at least one I don''t understand yet.


    Why not just, tip the whole thing into the stream and see what it gathers?


    A crazy idea but it''s worth a shot. A quick dip test showed me that yes, the bag could hold rushing water without being damaged. Very well then.


    In you go cheat bag! Catch me something good!


    When you live in an insane magical world you just have to adapt. The insanity still gets to me, don''t get me wrong. People like grampa definitely make me feel like going crazy. Actually it''s more than just grampa but he''s definitely up there in the top of the list.


    They just won''t expect for me to jump in and swim down with the crazy now, do they?


    Right now though it''s not exactly a metaphor. I really took off my clothes and got in the water for a refreshing clean up.


    Butt naked baby.


    How scandalous, a young miss such as myself bared to the elements like this. But hiking and overnight camping is a dirty endeavor, I think in this case I can excuse myself for my indecent swim.


    Also, I''m literally a small child, I think it will be fine even if any secret guards were watching.


    When I next check my new fishing bag I am pleasantly surprised to find two small fishes and some shrimp-like creatures. They immediately went on the grill after I processed them as best I could.


    Clean and chop chop chop.


    I feel bad for whatever tadpoles and other little things that got caught inside though. Of course, I released them as I dumped out the excess water.


    I really won''t starve out here, even on my own. My dad was right, even after all these years.


    Ah!


    My family! Not the one I''ve been missing so messily, not the family I can only see in my heart.


    But my current one, the idiotic couple,have they noticed my absence yet? It''s been a full day by now. While I understand too much to be disappointed it not,it would be quite irresponsible of them if they haven''t figured out something is amiss.


    I don''t think my current parents would allow such a ''trip'', they''re not that insane, but I suspect that old man operates on an ''it''s easier to say sorry than ask for permission'' system.


    Well, it can''t be helped at the moment, especially if grampa is involved. I should be more concerned about myself in the present, wouldn''t want any of this precious food to burn.


    Lemons were a good thing to forage, they really saved the ''seafood'' today! It goes decent with the ''saute'' greens and mushrooms, though they''re a bit soggy. Better than burnt! Everything is tasty enough even though it''s so simple.


    Since I''m the cook here, the ingredients and style are adjusted to my liking. Not bad, it''s been quite a while since I''ve cooked for myself. In fact, I don''t recall the previous Rosalia ever doing so.


    Well, that''s a spoiled rich person for you. First time for everything.


    After a swim, a nap and a fully cooked meal I am 100% recharged. Good to go!


    I honestly may be able to hold out like this till grampa picks me up, that is if I''m left sabotaged. Call me paranoid but I still think the only reason nothing particularly bad has been thrown at me is that I keep on the move.


    It''s slow given my size and safety concerns but I''m moving and exercising in a satisfactory way. If I was watching a live stream of myself I would be moderately amused if not fascinated how a toddler hasn''t been eaten alive yet or something similar.


    It''s actually quite nice out here when you take away the impending fear of the lethal and unknown. I always did like hiking and outdoor picnics. At least if anything kills me out here it would be for needs like say hunger and not politics or love scandals.


    Well there we go, my plan B if surviving in this world gets too much. I''ll just run off and live in the woods like an old hermit.


    It''s a perfect plan.


    While I''m here I might as well ask whoever lives out here about their ways. I''m getting increasingly closer to the source of the chimney smoke, if not soon then by nightfall. Worst case scenario tomorrow morning. I''m not as afraid for tonight, first day jitters and all.


    Maybe this whole time has been less frightening since I have a working goal in mind.


    It''s kind of funny though, as I get closer, when I think I near approach the smoke course I lose my way. I have to constantly climb a rock or a short tree and redirect myself where to go. It feels as if I''m walking in a big circle.


    Here''s the thing though, I forage along the way.


    I''ve picked the mushrooms, the nuts, the edible pieces, and parts. Occasionally my blunt tooth blade makes an ugly unnatural mark as I cut or the fruit I knock off breaks funny at the branch. When I pass by my own foraging marks for the 3rd time today I can say that yes, I am most definitely going in literal circles.


    OF course, nothing can be easy in my life, of flipping course.


    With nightfall approaching, it would be a waste of daylight and effort to try circling again. Instead, I''m better off finding the best tree to make camp for the night. One with the best view of the elusive chimney smoke.


    How suspicious.


    Stakeout time.


    The camp is much faster to set up tonight, my sleeping nest already packed against physics with the aid of the inter-dimensional bag. It''s like a video game item, damn unrealistic magic.


    Wait....magic?


    The curling smoke source is always out of grasp, like a mirage. The messed up sense of directions that lead me in circles must be influenced by magic in some way!


    Yes if anyone could survive out in the forest safe and sound for the long term they must have something up their sleeve. Magic or some sort of power is the best sort of trick to have.


    If it is just magic then I''m doomed. Not breaking that spell, whatever it is. But still, isn''t it interesting?


    What''s or who is casting this? What is hiding in plain sight?


    Lazily watching the smoke curl against the setting sun is like watching a snail crawl along a leaf, like watching rain drops gather and fall on the window or all those other mundanely fascinating things. It''s a waste of time but I could watch for hours if you let me.


    There''s something satisfying about if, even better if there''s something to figure out. It''s science, there''s a process and a structure, like a puzzle game.


    As I settle into my nest, admiring the way golden orange light seems to almost reflect and refract off the lazy smoke, I think I may have just figured this particular puzzle out.


    ------

 32 Dis Illusion

    It''s an array.


    The light reflects off at different parts, different angles. which makes absolutely no sense. How is it bouncing around like that? It''s not that the smoke source is moving or anything.


    At least that''s what I can make sense of from my observations


    We just don''t operate much by sense anymore, not in this world. But that doesn''t mean it''s all hocus pocus with no rules.


    No


    Magic has properties and structure, it has rules, just like nature does.


    Just because I don''t possess the gift doesn''t mean I don''t know that much. Those rules vary per person according to their natural ''quirks'' but it''s all based on something and built up.


    When I was watching Lilyanne first actively learning how to control hers, it was an absolute disaster. For years I had front row seats to the mess that were her magic lessons. Partly because I had no choice living with her, partly because I rearranged my own schedule to sideline. Watching in hopes of picking something up for my own, as if somehow I had magic that just needed activating. Yeah no, didn''t work out.


    Informative but a waste of time for the me of then, like attending a lecture to a class and major you''re not even in.


    You pick up a few things though.


    At the very least it made me a lot less starry eyed towards magic, which is often the case towards the masses and those who don''t possess it in any form. It''s fantastical but it''s not a baseless miracle, again there are rules and structures in accordance with each person''s elements.


    The formulaic methods, ones that taught and required the practiced ratio control of a chemist or perhaps a patisserie, just did not work out for her. Not all. Not unless you count a lot of explosions and screaming.


    From what she explained to me previously it was like an overflow. Of what I don''t know, maybe what constitutes as mana? Whatever it was or consisted of, her''s was overflowing and overproducing all the time.


    These were the terribly human early to middle years of the renowned holy maiden Lilyanne.


    Ah great front row seats those years. Occasionally I even acted as collateral damage. Let''s never do that again.


    After a long time, my sister finally learned how to make her particular magic flow like art. The potential world her canvas using her mana as the paint.


    Which I have to say is entirely unfair even by the standards of this world.


    Everyone else operates according to some semblance of sense. You get a certain amount of mana, a certain element of the property unique to you. Then you figure out what to do with it, your own careful formula if you don''t have an instructor to guide you. Of course with magic user rare as they are, anyone who displays such potential would be swiped right up by a wealthy patron or three.


    What I''m saying is my little sister is a hateful cheat, a true protagonist character with a golden halo.


    Formulas? Ratios? Conversion Principle? Law of equivalent exchange?


    Nope!


    Just be a princess character! Sing and paint all day while magical things just happen! Works for Lilyanne!


    Not including the abnormality that is a heroine''s halo, magic operates much like anything else does in nature.Honey bees build in combs, leaves from plants operate in an almost electrical energy cycle, snowflakes form from the shape of water molecules and other contacts.


    Everything has a pattern, no matter how irregular.


    That''s why I''m trying to figure out the pattern to this illusion array by watching the change of light. I''ve been thinking about it, staring at it during the night before it went out. It looks normal during the plain night but when the sun hits something is off.


    I know there is one, a pattern.


    Only then can I even attempt to break it, more likely though I''d better find a way to work around it.


    It reminds me of a mirror house. Not a carnival funhouse filled with small ones but those artsy buildings and homes that are coated in a reflective substance. Not glass, mirrors,just completely covered in mirrors on the outside. It''s physically there but it reflects everything around it.


    They were most beautiful when placed somewhere surrounded by wide open space, such as a desert or a forest such as this one. You could just walk by without ever noticing, you would just think it''s part of the scenery.


    Which may be what''s happening here.


    Of course, this is much trickier than a mirror house.


    I never reach it because I already did, and before I know it I''ve passed it. There''s something going on here that''s throwing off my sense of direction, not just mine but anyone that would come near.


    How interesting!


    I''ve survived another night in these woods and supposedly have one more to go if grampa''s note is to be believed.That''s another day and night to figure this out. Worst case scenario I just hold out till I''m tracked and picked up. A bit disappointing to have an unsolved mystery but it''s no skin off my back.


    I take my time this morning to wake up and watch the sunrise.


    This may be the first time I''m actually seeing it in this world, sleeping taking priority each dawn. It''s bigger, brighter, whiter than the sunrises I''ve known.


    I don''t know what to make of it. Wrong size and shade aside it''s a very normal looking single sun. If I let myself I could almost imagine it as the same sun and sky from home, just almost.


    Such thoughts shouldn''t distract me from the mission on hand.


    The illusion/array is a trick on the senses especially the eyes. Only during the moving light of sunset and sunrise does it flicker and seem to move in the wrong spots.


    So now what?


    Do I just retrace my steps? knock on on every rock and tree and ask if anyone''s home? Yes, I can see that being veeeeery effective.


    I can, however, determine the general area of whatever is hidden in the mirage thing. Staying close around would be my bet. I don''t mind, it could just be a relaxed day making this area my camp.


    The moment I start to relax and take it easy though it when my luck on avoiding trouble runs out, and it has nothing to do with any illusions.


    I was anticipating a possible minor beast encounter, an accident or fall that would require the use of the healing potions, something like that. Something more predictable but a lot less embarrassing than being stuck.


    No really, I''m stuck on the tree. Not in, though that technically is correct too.


    It''s not that I can''t ''climb'' down, there''s nothing wrong with my climbing skills.I''d perfectly capable if this were a normal basic tree.


    I didn''t notice anything amiss when I climbed up last night, it''s a large tree with sturdy branches. A perfectly acceptable tree house spot. It''s just...


    ....Just where did all this sap come from?!?!


    It''s a sticky mess!


    Throughout the night I was kept relatively safe and dry in my nest. But when I tried to start my day after sunrise I''ve encountered a gooey sticky problem. In my carelessness, I sat up and rested my head against the tree...


    ...I''m stuck, literally stuck.


    My downy little curls that have finally grown past my shoulders are now tangled and embedded into the tree sap. Help!


    The instinctual reaction of panicking and pulling only makes it worse of course. Ack it hurts, my little head is tightly trapped here. I now understand the plight of insects and small creatures preserved in fossilized amber.


    Water doesn''t help.


    I tried pouring out the contents of my flask but it just slides right off. The viscosity of the sap is just too much and all it does is drench me from the back of my head to my butt.


    And so, it is to much regret that I must act on the only option left available to me. The only path to freedom.


    Cutting hair with a tooth-blade is a long and dull process.Not how I pictured my day would start.


    The angle is also awkward while my arms are stubby and short. Wasn''t cutting your hair outside with a blade supposed to be cooler, more dramatic? It always looked epic and emotionally charged in movies and shows. This is....well it''s real life I guess.


    Maybe I''m just not meant to be a cool heroine character with a dramatic haircut and character development scene, shame.


    In the end, it''s a wet sad mess, maybe just as messy as the tree that now holds my hair as a souvenir. My head is an uneven bird nest with the back completely cropped, and even then there''s still bits of sticky stuff here and there.


    Tragic looks aside, I''m still trapped in a sticky tree. Unlike hair, I can''t just cut off my hands and feet if I get stuck in the thick sap.


    As I see it the only way down is the most direct route.


    Emptying my nest and the inter-dimensional bag of every single leaf and cushion like substance, a sizable little mountain of leaves appeared directly on the ground below me. Hopefully, it''s enough. The only thing left to do now is jump.


    Here''s to survival!!!!


    Oooopmf!


    ....Ow


    I''m ok but ow, no serious injuries though I can''t seem to find my right slipper.I''m just a little banged up. It''s nothing I want to waste limited a healing potion on. Let''s avoid doing that again till I''m at least 3 or something.


    My walking speed feels slower but I''m not sure. Today I don''t really have a destination in mind since I''m already here. If I try to find the smoke source again I''ll just go in circles. Is it odd to just wander the area? Just go in blind, expecting nothing?


    You can''t be disappointed if you expect nothing in the first place.


    And if something does happen then it''s a pleasant surprise.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I''m just thinking about the woods, that''sit. It doesn''t mean anything deeper than that.Funny how your thoughts wander when you''re alone when you''re the only voice you can hear for days.


    I don''t like the direction some of my thoughts go, I don''t like the whole abandoned in the woods thing in general. But it''s peaceful out here. I don''t have to pretend out here.


    A chilly morning breeze blows and I shiver and sneeze at it.


    On second thought maybe I should have a healing potion, just in case. I just can''t afford to be sick and injured out here, it''s too risky.


    Retrieving a small bottle, no bigger than a little jam jar, I pop the cap and give it a curious sniff. It''s not a particularly horrible taste but the funky texture is gag inducing to me. Bleck! Can''t we do something about these things, aren''t these the most common grade potions?


    I can feel it slowly, mildly, warm through my shivering body. Mote than that though I can begin to feel the throbbing aches, from the fall, that would later form bruises slowly fade away. Magic is a really amazing thing, even if it tastes gross, the higher the level the grosser it gets.


    "So they never improved the formula..."


    "AH!!!"


    In shock I spin around, dropping and spilling the half finished vial.


    In the morning light leaned a forest spirit, lazy against the tree. Dressed in muted colors and a flowing green cloak he seemed to glow. His golden light hair was pinned back elegantly, his face made of the finest carved marble, his solid bit lithe figure tall, carried like a dancer''s.


    This kind of beauty I have only seen once before in passing, never directly, many years ago. A rush of astonishment, of awe that lingered from a previous lifetime, washes over me. I gasp.


    "...It''s you."


    "So you can see me, funny."


    The only expression to be seen was the slight rise in his eyebrows. Was I not meant to see him? How could I not when he''s standing right there, absolutely glowing and divine. But in a way I understand, what a waste for mere mortal eyes to look upon such a celestial being.


    The mysterious beauty makes no motion or further contact so it''s up to me to keep up. But it''s hard to speak in his presence.


    "Achoo! Ah achoo!"


    And the moment is ruined, my own lingering chill and sneezes break the mood. What a lousy ineffective healing potion! I can even feel my nose beginning to run ew ew ew. Oh, I just can''t have anything nice, can I?


    "Shit."


    Curses shouldn''t sound so good on such apretty face but it somehow suits him.


    "Pardon my intrusion, sniff, I''m lost and had no idea the esteemed mage Gable dwelled here. Forgive me. "


    Though I''m a wet leafy mess of a child, I still make my best efforts to curtsy in a proper manner. If it weren''t for the shock I''d find my state very unpleasant and embarrassing.


    "Ah ah achoo!"


    Ugh...never mind, I am embarrassed after all and make to keep my head low.


    "....Were you sent?"


    "Sniff, no. No one sent me, I was left here."


    "People don''t wander in this far, let alone a child such as yourself. Pray tell little one, how do you know of my name if you were not sent?"


    Is it nerves of the beginning of a cold that tightens my throat and makes my voice scratchy?


    "I was truly left here with no direction esteemed sir. However, my grandfather speaks of you fondly, and very often even -."


    "Your grandfather- well fucking shit, of course, it has to do with him."


    The beautiful man runs a pale hand, piano hands I note, through his silky hair in a frustrated manner. He looks up in the distance, an unpleasant expression marring his otherwise pristine face. He looks as if he''s deciding over something painful, it''s a look that often accompanies those who deal with the crazy man called my grampa.


    Oh good, he recognized grampa''s handiwork so quickly. Saves me time and effort explaining myself further.


    Sniff


    Would it be rude to blow my nose any time soon? I really do need to.


    "...God damn it Ronal- shit fuck-."


    He takes a long deep breathe and reigns his grimace back before turning his attention back to examine my sorry figure. I suspect that this man suffers a lot of near brain aneurysms because of grampa. Very understandable.


    Another unconscious sniffle from me and another long sigh for him.


    " God, what is he thinking, shit a kid, shit can''t, a kid....Alright alright, come on here little one, let''s go get you warmed up. Those level potions don''t do sh- anything at all on viral illnesses."


    Eh? I can come over and follow him? Before I could will my legs to any anything though his long legs swiftly make his way over to my spot. In a fluid motion, I''m wrapped in a soft brown scarf, lopped almost endlessly around my small figure.


    He''s much taller than my grampa so when he lifts me it''s as if I''m back up in a tree, the view so high from up here. His mumbled complaints muffled by the scarf but since I''m so close this voice still carries.


    "By the goddess what is he thinking, god he doesn''t even think I swear...when I get my hands on him. Shit can''t swear in front of a kid."


    This beautiful stranger is no stranger at all. This is the great mage, the infamous reclusive hermit, biological brother to the Royal Northern Queen, uncle to my dreaded fiance, and most importantly of all, the oldest and closest friend to the great Hero Roland.


    It''s nice to finally meet you Sir Gabriel!


    "ah achoo!"


    The circumstance could definitely be better though.


    ----

 33 Whats a hobbit?

    There''s a hidden hobbit house out here!


    Amazing, real life Legolas lives in a hobbit house! There really is some sort of illusion array since my eyes spun on the way here. A big tree that isn''t there, rocks that fade like a mere hologram and more. I really would have no chance of finding such a supernatural place alone.


    Tucked in the face of a hill was a study doorway embedded into the rock with growing greenery looming naturally on top. It''s in plain sight but at the same time, it''s not.


    A real hobbit house!


    "What''s a hobbit? Anyways calm down, we''re almost there. I promise you it''s safe."


    I must have said that last part out loud.


    Real life Legolas takes my fangirling as a restless squirm. Which is honestly much better than if he knew my true inner thoughts. Ahh you''re even more handsome than a young Orlando Bloom! What a shame you don''t have pointy ears sir Gable. You would truly be the spitting image of millions of fangirls'' elf dreams everywhere.


    The closer I get to the hobbit home the further away it looks. We pass by a small wooden fence Inever saw before, then a vegetable patch and some strange stacks of wood and scraps. What an amazing illusion to keep everything so well hidden.


    Upon entry to the hobbit house, I am greeted with the interior home worthy of a cottage witch. Various bundles of herbs and flowers hang upside down, drying in the doorway where Gable takes off his heavy leather boots. Further on inside hang even more plants covering up the entire ceiling, as if it were a modern trendy art exhibit.


    Everything is made of wood or bolted with a crude iron like metal. It''s simple but the contents are not. Three layers of cauldrons are hanging and boiling over the fireplace, set apart by some smartly designed metal racks. There isn''t a single clear surface in this place, all covered with books, strewn inky papers, strange trinkets and more maybe experiments.


    We pass through that amazing room and another and another and through what I assume to be the library judging by the fact that the walls are nothing but bookshelves.


    Now, this is a treasure of a house worth exploring.


    A dark spiral staircase that only leads downwards hides against a crook on the corner. How exciting, an underground that leads to more.


    Unfortunately, I don''t get to see much more because exactly one story down, we''re out and turned into a washroom. Unlike the witch like room upstairs, the wash is perfectly immaculate and professionally clean. Not a stray hair or moldy stain to be seen. Also unlike the simple streamlined wooden furniture upstairs, the washroom looks...expensive.


    Gorgeous dark marble tiles the floor and crawls up parts of the wall. Embedded gems that can''t be common make up the other parts of the wall in mosaics and tasteful embellishmentsI can make out a sleek sink, a geometric giant copper mirror and last of all a large romantic freestanding marble bathtub in the center.


    I''m only set down, much to my disappointment, after Gable turned on the water to fill the tub, steam rising indicating that it''s hot water. How does this elf-man have centralized plumbing out here? Even my own mansion doesn''t have this good of internal plumbing nor hot water control!


    He sets me down near a drain by the corner. I suppose from all the strange knobs on the wall that this area acts as a shower.Next to me, he sets down a steaming wooden barrel with a damp washcloth.


    "Alright, one hot bath coming up. You seem smarter than the average kid, even if you''re one of Ronald''s. How do you want this? Would you like to clean up by yourself or do you need my help?"


    I can have upgraded Legolas come true bathe me?


    So tempting but oh no it''s too much, my maiden heart can''t take this. The shame would be too much even if I''m just a toddler right now. I have this much self respect at least.


    "By myself please, thank you for the bath, sniff."


    "Hmm, I''ll leave you to it then. Dirty clothes in the basket here. Get in the tub after you wash off. The towels will be under the sink. We''ll talk later, you''re not off the hook yet but call me if you need anything. "


    "Yes sir, sniff, thank you very much, sir."


    "...tissues are here."


    Before he leaves he hands me a ceramic container of a leaf mulch paper, it''s even softer than a modern tissue and the relief on my nose is immediate. He also turns off the tub''s running water before throwing in something that makes it bubble a pastel purple.


    With that I''m left alone.


    It''s a lot to take in.


    But more importantly, I''m in a beautiful and mysterious man''s bathroom, more importantly than just that it''s a Legolas look alike!


    He just cradled me in his arms! As much as the fangirl is going crazy in me I can''t pass up the kindness sir Gable has set up for me.


    This is my first real bath in what feels like so long. Even at home I''m not allowed to bathe by myself, usually sharing bath times with Lilyanne and a small hoard of maids.


    This is much more pleasant.


    Peeling away my roughly torn brown clothes, once a delicate white, I make to start washing.


    Honestly, it''s pretty good they lasted this long, there were meant for a noble child''s day wear not excessive exposure to the elements. The dimensional bag went delicately on top of the sad clothing pile.


    With the first basin of warm water, I wash away a lot of mud and even more debris than I thought I could carry on my body. Mud, mud, maybe animal feces, chunky mud, and more mud runs and swirls down the drain.


    For hair that''s been cropped short in the back, there''s a lot of twigs and bits of leaves stuck up there. After dunking my head into the basin repeatedly I''m forced to give up, there''s nothing else I can remove on my own.


    Talk about birds nest hair, literally.


    I pitter patter carefully across the smooth marble floors to the too tall tub. Gable is a saint however because there''s a wooden stepping stool for me. The tub is also only a quarter full, fluffed up with pretty purple bubbles, enough for me to be fully submerged if I sit but in no way drown. He''s an absolute saint, kind, caring and beautiful.Why couldn''t he be my grampa?


    I sigh in absolute bliss sinking into my first real bath in this lifetime.


    The water is warm but too weak for my preferred heat. Still it''s safer on my baby sensitive skin. The soapy purple concoction smells of something sweet and delicately floral, like candied spring blossoms. It''s perfect for some satisfying scrubbing into whatever is left of my sad excuse of hair.


    Ah, I miss shampoo. What is this stuff? It must be magical. I wonder if an economic shampoo is something I can bring into reality here.


    The water turns cold before I even consider leaving my pretty smelling soak. It''s too luxurious to leave, even lukewarm.


    I don''t even bother to think why I''m here or if Gable is in on this plan with grampa. If this wasn''t someone I didn''t recognize as safe of course I would never follow or allow myself to be taken. In this case, though it''s more than safe, it''s a happy coincidence. The amazing bath is just a perk.


    When I do finally make to leave to the tub,fluffy towels in a soft heather gray are under the sink exactly where sir Gable said they would be.


    Hanging by the slightly open door is a shrunk drawstring shirt that could act as a dress for me, hanging low past my knees. There''s also a loose hanging sleeveless fur vest that may have once recently been a piece of scrap fabric. The edges were sewn by a skilled hand, but hastily, messily as if the tailor were on a deadline.


    I recognize that kind of hasty sewing style as the same kind my own hands would produce when I would help out my fashion design friends, stressed out on pieces before a show or due project.


    The mismatched scrap vest fits like an old favorite sweater and just as comfortable as one too.


    It''s a little awkward to be alone in another person''s house. I don''t want to wander anywhere I wasn''t invited to, not when my host has been so gracious to me thus far. It''s different than at the stupid prince''s place, that''s familiar and I hold no respect for it or its owners. Otherwise, I''d like to say I''m a perfectly polite guest when in someone else''s home.


    While I tentatively leave the washroom, with my dimensional bag, pantsless but dressed none the less,debating on staying put or braving myself up the staircase again I can see a room with artificial lights on. The slight banging sounds of metal and Gable''s absentminded mumbling are what gives me reason enough to make my way down to hall


    It''s a surprisingly normal looking kitchen.


    Of course, he must have a kitchen. I just assumed food and whatnot was prepared in the first room with the fireplace.


    I can''t say I don''t respect a man who keeps his living and workspaces separate.


    Gable has his back turned, cloak long gone to reveal a lean figure capable of earning the envy of both men and women half his age. He hears me enter anyways if he didn''t already know.


    "You''re done, clothes fit alright? They''re not the best for someone so small but best I could do for now. Oh for goddess''s sake shoes, socks I forget the bloody feet! Kids have fuckin feet. "


    Does real life Legolas have a sort of British accent? Yes please, I can live with that, thank you very much.


    "The clothes fit yes thank you.Especially the fur vest, the quilted patches are very cute!"


    "....that''s because they are patches...but glad you like them."


    And so? It''s still very cute, mori girl style is popular for a reason. Since I can''t say that and have anyone understand I tilt my head in question instead. It''s a super effective technique used by cute girls everywhere in between both worlds.


    It worked all the time on my previous face and that one was nowhere near as lovable as the angelic Lilyanne''s twin face here.


    Gable weakens and sighs at the look, somehow he sounds used to it if that''s even possible.


    "It''s the god damn same- even the eyes. Damn it. " he mumbles underneath his breath.


    I either happen to have excellent ears or he underestimates my hearing range. Does he mean my twin sister? He''s never even met Lilyanne, at least not that I know of. But then again Lilyanne gets a lot of honors I don''t. It wouldn''t be the first time.


    "Well take a seat, food''s basically done. You don''t look starving but god when was the last time you ate?"


    "I had mushrooms and fruits."


    I tried to climb up a chair but it proved to be too difficult for my current height.


    With a click of his tongue Gable waved a nearby wand, nothing too fancy, just a dark wooden thing with a swirling silver handle. It made a bunch of things lift and fly into the air, me included.


    Ah a real magic wand, so cool.


    I watch from high up above to the table being set almost automatically, with a small stack of books stacking up on my supposed chair. A final pillow line the now high seat and I float gently till I''m sitting right on top.


    Amazing!


    Magic is really amazing but even this isn''t anything any magic user can do! I''m pinched out of my starstruck daze with a literal pinch to my cheeks though."


    "Not enough, how much did that crap grandfather of your give you in that bag anyways."


    Without hesitation, I hand over the inter-dimensional bag. This wizard of a man has many more amazing things than a mere space bag I''m sure.


    "Only the knife, flask, ropes, and healing potions. Everything else I worked hard at gathering. It''s not much but please have them, you can take them all if you like."


    A few foraged goods are nothing compared to being invited into his home. People could give up 3 generations worth of their wealth, an arm, a leg, and maybe their brother''s physical body and still not get in.


    It''s an honor not granted to many to simply meet the great mage Gable.


    "There''s a lot of rocks in here." he notes.


    Gable raises one perfect eyebrow but says nothing more. He does empty out the fruit and various herbs and mushrooms into separate baskets though.Of course, he can operate that thing perfectly.


    "Not bad for awhat, 3 year old?"


    "I''m two years old actually."


    "Ah....lovely."


    With another flick of his wand, the food comes flying to the table.


    A piping bowl of what looks to be grainy oatmeal is placed directly in front of me. A cup of warm milk and honey is poured by my side while a floating spoon scoops berries on top of my bowl before diving in and lightly stirring.


    "Eat, it''s easy on the stomach."


    Sir Gable takes a seat across from me at the kitchen table. He also has a similar bowl of oatmeal though the contents of his mug smell much stronger than milk.


    My first hot meal in days tastes sweet and really does go down easy.


    Gable is naturally silent I think, rather than just leaving me in silence to eat. It''s not awkward or unpleasant though and I''m content to spoon my way down the warm contents of my bowl, savoring how it doesn''t hurt my increasingly irritated throat.


    I don''t make a mess, polite in my table manners, but a floating cloth napkin comes up to wipe my face and hands after I finish. While I''m distracted my mug is magically refilled with that same frothy milk and honey. Only this time something has been added to make it pink!


    It''s delicious!


    While I''m happily blowing and sipping at my pink milk, Gable makes to clean up with a swish of his wand.So cool, I don''t even have the will to be jealous. He coughs and washes down the rest of his drink to clear his throat.


    I expect it''s talking time now that I''m clean and fed.


    "Thank you for finding me and taking me into your home sir Gable."


    "...yes...I couldn''t very well leave you out there...like that. Did he...send you out or?"


    "My grampa just said in his note when he left me out here that he would arrive in 3 days to pick me up. I was to "just survive" in the wild till then. You found me after my second night here."


    "He just....left you around here?"


    "No, not exactly, Achoo! Pardon me. We were a few hours outside the Capital gates when he threw me to this big bird, Zarkon or something. Grampa didn''t even warn me, just threw this bag over my neck and ...well."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I mime an exaggerated throwing motion as that was easier than finding the words for how I was shot like a human football. Sir Gable is doing a very good job of keeping a straight face at my tale though he does look tired.


    "You can see the note left inside the bag, that''s all there is. I haven''t touched it since first read it. Supposedly he''ll either be here later today or tomorrow."


    "...Don''t count on it kid, he''s always late.Once he was late to a meetup of ours by 5 years."


    Ah yes this may explain why sir Gable looks so tired when speaking of my shitty grandpa. He must have infinitely worse tales after all these years. All first hand experiences too. What an amazingly strong man to handle grampa all this time, I wonder how and why he stuck through with it.


    "As you already know I am called Gable, nothing else is necessary. I can''t keep calling you kid so what is your name?"


    "Pardon my rudeness, I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella, or just Rosalia though you may call me anything that''s convenient to you sir Gable.


    "Yes, now what''s your name?"


    "Rosalia, sir"


    "No, your other name?"


    I''m confused, do I have another name I don''t know about? Or is this a code from grampa? I''m always left in the dark on these matters, how annoying.


    "Other name? I''m sorry I''m not sure I understand, I don''t think I was blessed with any other name than the one I just gave."


    "No child, I meant your name from before you were ''Rosalia."


    A pin drops and shatters something somewhere deep in my soul.


    "From the other reality, where you''re from."


    How...how does he know this? What''s going on here? How?


    "What is your real name?"


    ----

 34 What can you understand?

    It floats around my consciousness, always under my skin. Buzzing. Not quite there but not gone, never gone.


    If someone were to call out that name now I can''t say I won''t respond.


    I can''t say I won''t turn back. Can''t say that I won''t, in some instinctual way, go "Yes? Yes, that''s me, who''s asking?''


    There''s no chance of that I''m sure. It''s a foreign name in a language never heard of here, let alone spoken out loud. I''m safe from anyone ever knowing that name, safe from unburying and revealing myself.


    So how?


    How does this man know that I even hold another name, another life?


    It must be a trap...yes that''s it.


    That''s why that two-faced grampa sent me out here. To wear me down, weaken me and then interrogate me. Oh god, it''s in all the documentaries and shows, interrogation 101: to wine and dine the suspect, get their guard down.


    What was in the food, the pink milk? It could be anything. I''m such an easy fool.


    "I don''t understand."


    Not a lie, I don''t dare to lie right now. Who knows what powers are hanging over me, or inside me that will force me to only spit the truth.


    "Apologies, I didn''t mean it like that. Of course, Rosalia is your real name too. It''s just that you''re so young now, it''s only been 2 years here. Surely the other one, your other identity feels more real to you than this short one?"


    I can''t breathe, my throat feels tight and it has nothing to do with the chill I''ve caught.


    "Hey kid deep breathes, it''s okay. You''re safe here, it''s safe. Can you take a deep breath for me? In and out. Okay have a little more milk it will calm you."


    The much older man comes around the table to physically lean on the floor and face me. I''m barely aware as he refocuses me through the panic, ensuring that I''m breathing and calm before handing me the still warm drink.


    I eye it warily through the haze of fear coursing through my veins.


    "Uhg not like that, I don''t do poison in food. There''s nothing in here but something for the cold, I meant milk and honey is generally good for that sort of thing. "


    He tried to softly smile but it''s stiff in a way that has more to do with his personality than whether his words are lies or truths. I may be a sucker for pretty faces to admit that it still works, at least partly.


    Either way, I''m in his home territory, I''m useless here where it counts


    I take a half-hearted sup of the milk, it''s delicious sweetness now cloying on my tongue.


    "There''s really nothing in there, if I wanted to I much have better ways of making someone talk. "


    True


    I''d expect better from the great mysterious mage Gable. I give a nod at that and he takes it as a small win, backing off a little from my personal space. He still stays on the floor though, eye level with me. What a cunning man, it''s the little things like this that preys on a woman''s emotions you know.


    "I won''t make you tell me your name if you don''t want to. It''s an...important thing. I know, I understand I really do."


    "...But how?"


    How could he possibly know? How could anyone of this world, no matter how strong or well versed they are, know of coming from another world. Not unless...


    "I''m sorry Rosalia, no. I''m not like you, my soul was born here once and only knows this world."


    As if he could read my thoughts from just my face he shakes his head in apology. Gable has nothing to apologize for, it''s just only me and my stupid hopes.


    "But I know someone who is, I know him very very well. Surely you must have figured it out by now."


    Maybe I have, maybe I haven''t.


    It''s hard to say when the other party is certifiably insane and can crush me like a grape any time he so wishes.


    "He''s ... it''s not like I could just ask him or anything."


    "Ronald''s stubborn and doesn''t like talking about it much. I don''t blame you for being unsure, he likes to keep people on their toes about everything and anything."


    "He doesn''t trust me."


    "It''s not just you, he doesn''t trust anyone. "


    That may be true but with one exception.


    "He trusts you, he must, you know this much and you''re not dead."


    "Heh, like he could kill me anyways."


    "...he could always kill me. I''m easy enough."


    "Hey now."


    Gable takes a careful hand and places it on my shoulder in a comforting gesture like you would a small sad child. I''m not a real child.


    I avoid his gaze still, I know he must be trying to make eye contact. How could I take the pitying gaze of someone who knows I''ve been holding my breath all this time? Fighting for my small life all this time, will continue to do so for years on end.


    Even though it''s scary, even though it hurts and chokes the life out me, that doesn''t mean I want anyone else to know about it.


    *Sniff*


    I''m not going to cry, it''s just the oncoming cold.


    "He would never Rosa, listen to me. He''s...complicated. A little messed up in the head but I suppose that comes with the territory of two or so lifetimes of memories. It''s confusing to me too. You''re...you''re the same. He saw that since day one. He loves you know, speaks of you all the time. I can''t ever get him to shut up."


    "He loves Lilyanne you mean."


    His real grandchild, the beloved one, but I bite my tongue at that. I sound petty enough as it is.


    "No, he''s someone who loves and cares for his family deeply, more than you can imagine. Never had one,not in this life, and it''s not my place to say too much but his other one...he lost that one. He would never want to harm you,rather it would be opposite."


    "...I''m not family though...I''m fake. He''s always...he''s either pretending to be happy or treating me like I''m....something else."


    "Is that how you see yourself then, a fake?"


    "..."


    I nod because that''s all I can do.


    Admitting a harsh truth, even just to yourself is a painful thing for most people. But what does it matter? Because fake or real I''m never loved here. Why does it matter so much?


    It shouldn''t, I have nothing to prove to these people. Wasn''t that the ''real'' Rosalia''s mistake? I just need to survive and then get the hell out of here. Then I can live, that''s all. I''ll think about it further after that.


    "...You''re real, Rosalia, look at me as I tell you this. You are real. You are just as real anyone else living right now.Rosa you are real as any soul here and Ronald off all people would know that. Tell me is your grandfather a fake too? Is he your fake grandfather or a fake human?"


    "No I''m the fake one- since I came here I''ve just been pretending-"


    "By those standards, he''s just as fake as you are. He arrived with some extra memories packed up and call it what you will but he''s still here and so are you. Look at me and know what I say is the truth: you exist, you''re here and you are very real. Valid and real."


    When did I start crying? It''s very uncomfortable and suddenly I can''t breathe again. I can''t breathe but I can, that makes no sense and it''s all much.


    When was I such a crybaby?


    I heave and before I know it I''m in a pair of large arms. They feel cool to the touch but his chest is warm. In them, I heave and sob something nasty, something that''s been pent up for so long.


    "Just breathe, let it out and breathe.Feel that, that''s you existing here, painfully but real as anyone else"


    Like a magic spell, the ghost girl in me flickers into something more solid. She''s scary, just as god damn fear-inducing as grampa at the right (wrong) moments even though she''s doesn''t exist, not anymore


    But somehow she is still there.


    "There you are, just breathe Rosa. Just breathe."


    When I''m deemed calmer, steadier, Gable still doesn''t release me. There is still a cool hand brushing over my head, through my chopped hair, and down my back that must feel so tiny to him. I feel like a small animal, trembling under the comfort.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    What a dangerous man, I feel sorry to all the innocent women that must have fallen under his kind charm.


    "Why do you call me that?''


    "Hmm? Rosalia is the only name you''ll give me."


    "No...Rosa....why do you call me that? How did you know?"


    "That only your family calls you that? I told you the giant stinking crap of your grandfather speaks of you all the time. That''s the name he uses. Your father is Freddy, your sister is Lily and your mother has and always will be Maria no matter what silly nickname he uses. Little light, Buttercup, she has the most nicknames. "


    He chuckles in spite of himself, voice growing fond.


    I don''t dare to look at his face lest I show the snotty mess that is own but I can feel him smile, know it as his muscles relax and his grip unconsciously tighten.


    "He loves you call dearly, even if he''s absolute shit at communicating it properly. Sometimes he''s like a stray dog, too affectionate and you can''t get rid of him and then sometimes he''s just...gone. Always has been, guess he never learned enough of a lesson with Maria when she was small. Can''t say I''m much better though, pot meet kettle huh?"


    I can feel myself come down easier with his forced rambling, make it more about himself or something else rather than me. He''s done this before I blearily sense through the storm of my own thoughts.


    Who?I want to ask.


    Even though my brain already has an answer supplied.


    I don''t like to dwell on it but an image of grampa comes to mind.


    That imposing figure with a legend larger than the actual man himself. I see his annoyingly shining smile for the world like some sort of ancient superman and without my permission I see him, faceless and sobbing, being held by the same hands I''m in now.


    These cool but very kind hands.


    Underneath their touch I see an unbreakable man breaking.Shattering from a weight no one can understand, a past he can''t speak of and gluing himself back together still.


    I still don''t trust his too perfect smile but I find it a little more sympathetic, relateable, now. Grampa really is the same. He''s a time-hopping soul living in another person''s life. He''s just doing a better job of hiding it than I am, he''s had years more practice I suppose, decades.


    "How long?"


    I ask, careful, cautious still.


    "How long in what?"


    He knows, he''s too smug about it. But it''s to draw me out, get me comfortable in talking again. I''ll concede this much.


    "How long have you known?"


    "About you? Since the beginning, we''ve known about you since the very start. Or well Ronald did. "


    "And him? How long have you known who he really is?"


    "I don''t think I ever known who he really is, just as he doesn''t know me. No one can really know about each other and that''s why we need to keep trying. But if you mean how long I''ve known about his other life, then a long time now. Not as long as he''s been alive but decades worth of a long time."


    "And you don''t care?"


    Were you scared?


    Curious?


    Why didn''t you report him to some church or secret society and run away while you could?


    Why didn''t you leave already if you know- all that and more were what I wanted to ask but it matters little compared to that one question. It surprised me too, that the only question that really matters was:


    "Do you care?"


    "Of course I care! Fucking idiot kept something like that bottled up all this time, it''s no wonder he went ape shit crazy. I care because he didn''t let anyone, didn''t let me, help him for so damn long."


    *Sniff*


    "I care, just not in the way you''re scared of...and he learned to trust me. One day you''ll find those you can trust too, I promise you Rosa. Until then, you can trust me ok, even if it''s just a little, you can trust me with this much."


    *Sniff* "...ok."


    "Good, now blow your nose."


    "....Can you tell me about him?''


    "No, not the bulk of it at least. That story isn''t mine to tell."


    "...Okay, I understand."


    When my nose is cleared up again and a warm drink in my hands, I''m back in his protective hold. I hadn''t realized how long I''ve been without a hug, a real one, nor how much I missed the contact. Do my parents count, have they ever held me just because? I can''t recall, there''s none in Rosalia''s memories either.


    "When, if you don''t mind me asking, when did you die?"


    "The time? Or my age?"


    "Both, either or, whatever you feel comfortable with sharing."


    I want to think about it further, keep my secrets close and guarded. They''re all I have. But I''m so so very tired already. It''s only been a few short years and I''m already this tired. Just a little, can I rest here just a little?


    "Somewhere far away from here, in a different place with no magic but in some ways things were better."


    "So was Ronald''s, something tells me it''s not exactly the same place though."


    "... I was in my twenties."


    "A mere baby then, I''m just that old brat don''t give me that look.....and before that? If there was a before that is."


    "...17... Rosalia died at 17."


    "....I''m sorry."


    "It''s already happened, there''s nothing to be sorry for."


    "I''m sorry still, sorry you had to go through that, because you are still very much Rosalia. Just as Ronald is Ronald.I''m sorry you died and died again and for all that pain."


    "...."


    "...The future can change, whatever it was, it already has. You have the chance to change that."


    *Sniff*


    "One day, when you''re both ready....talk to Ronald. Ask him for his story, how he changed his....You two are more similar than you think."


    "Haha...that''s funny."


    "You are, right down to your stubbornness. I would know enough to recognize it. And until the day you two suck it up enough to talk to each other, I guess I''ll be here."


    "On his side?"


    "I''m on no one''s side but my own. And right now that''s being here for you before you turn into another Ronald."


    "Ew, funny, but not happening."


    "You'' de be surprised brat."


    Is it stupid to trust someone I just met this much?


    It feels good though, it feels like I can breathe after being underwater all these years. Just as I got used to holding my breath underwater too. It feels like oxygen and truth and just not having to hide in front of someone, the same feeling at the peace in the middle of the wilderness.


    But this time I''m not alone.


    It''s too nice, too nice for someone like me.


    "BUt I hope so kid, I sure hope so."


    If I slip out of consciousness on the kitchen floor right there and then, with nothing but a cup of warm milk and honey and cold kind hands that feel too good on my swollen eyes. Well who can blame me?


    If they were me, who wouldn''t feel the same way?


    ------

 35 Not 5 years but still late.

    When I next awoke it was to a curtain drawn room and a comfortable nest of a little makeshift bed.


    I must have been put into a spare converted room after I passed out. From the low light that seems though I can guess it must still be the same day, early evening at the latest.


    Out in the hall, I can see it''s the same downstairs hall as the kitchen and washroom from earlier. I don''t dare open the doors to the other rooms, out of respect more than anything else.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    My host is strange but kind, kinder than anyone''s ever been to me for two lifetimes. I won''t take that for granted, ever.


    Since there are no signs here, Gable must be upstairs.


    The hall and stairway aren''t entirely dark, little lights glow from geometrical shapes hang on the walls. They''re like an improved version of glow in the dark star stickers I had in my bedroom as a kid.


    God, this house is cool.


    Idon''t really know what I was expecting Gable to be doing.


    Diligently looking over his research?


    Elegantly reading a book?


    Brewing some cool potions?


    Summoning unholy forced from a relm beyond over a blood sacrifice?


    Whatever I was expecting, it was not him curled up by the fire crocheting like a little old lady.


    Well, I suppose he''s is an old man. It''s a very cozy looking scene, hot cup of something by an open fire on a comfortable looking chair. If it weren''t for all macabre bird bones and somewhat witchy looking materials it would be very holiday postcard worthy.


    Unless you''re into that sort of thing.


    "Awake I see, it''s still early, now''s a good a time as any to be up. Won''t lose any sleep before bedtime, damn what even is bed time for kids like you? How are you feeling now?"


    Without looking up Gable seem to always know where I am and somehow I don''t think that has anything to do with magic.


    "Much better, my throat feels scratchy but my nose is much better."


    "Hmm, sounds about right. Another milk before bed then. Now stop hovering by the doorway and come try these on."


    "Yes!"


    I was only trying to be polite by not intruding but since I''ve been given permission I''ll gladly make myself more comfortable. There''s no other chair but plenty of cushions to pile up, all with a hand-knitted pattern cover.


    The items Gable pulls out for me to try were a poofy pair of crochet high waist shorts and matching long wool socks in the same soft walnut color. There were all of course near infant size and looked adorable.


    "Wah you made these? Amazing!"


    "Yes yes yes best I could do. Your old clothes were...not fit.These were the quickest things to whip together"


    "I understand completely if they''re not salvageable, thank you so much Sir Gable!."


    "Just Gable is fine."


    "I''m serious, they''re so well made! You can do so much and crochet too, it''s amazing."


    "Great then put them on already."


    "....is this magic?"


    "I''m sorry?"


    "The socks, are they magic?


    "Well, no but I did enchant my tools?"


    I don''t think sit Gable understands how difficult it is to crochet socks normally. I''ll just stick to knitting. Cozy as they are, they''re are a bit stiff and baggy but they could be rolled down to fit.


    The shorts are very roomy but warm. I for one am glad to finally have something to cover down there.


    I just need some shoes and a cute hat for this adorable countryside outfit to be complete. A hat....a hat really would be helpful,...


    "You don''t seem too pleased but bear with it for now."


    "Oh no I love them, they''re very comfortable! I was just thinking about how nice a hat or something to cover my hair would be....it wasn''t like this before you know. Tree sap accident."


    I explain as I awkwardly gesture to my choppy hair. It''s much less of a bird''s nest after a clean bath but it does look something pitiful.


    "Ah yes a hat, that I can do, but how about we try to neaten that feral child look of yours first?"


    "Yes please, if you could be so kind."


    "I don''t know if there''s much I can do with it so I hope you don''t mind it short."


    "Short hair doesn''t bother me, it''s okay even if I look like a boy!"


    "Relax and try not to flinch much."


    Gable lifts me to the corner of a table and covers my shoulders with a rag. He wets my hair and instead of pulling out a pair of scissors, he brings forth a green flame between his fingers. It follows his steady hand, wisping across my forehead, over my ears as it burns away the choppy strands left dangling.


    It dances in warm spots at the back of my head and I try very hard not to clap in astonishment and applause.


    Why can''t this magician be my grampa instead? Hey, can I request a trade-in?!


    When he finishes I see my reflection for the first time in this life.


    Not in the moving water of a pond or river, not in the face of my twin but clearly in an actual polished bronze mirror.


    The same baby heart shaped face as Lilyanne''s, but fuller with cheeks a little too warm and flushed. Sharp hazel brown eyes on the round face of a child, one who should be familiar, stares back. Defined if not a bit judgmental thin eyebrows, a button nose, and a perpetual pout, all these things are my face.


    Indeed I make a good looking boy, hair cropped short all around. However, my bangs and the sides were left long and framed my round little face rather favoringly. My hair looks darker, straighter when it''s this short, none of Lillyanne''s fairytale curls in sight.


    I don''t look like Lilyanne, like this I don''t look like her at all, identical face or not.


    And I like it.


    "It will grow back in time. "


    I assume Gable responded to my silence with the assumption I''m disappointed and am quick to shower him in praise once again.After all I am a little girl and thus a little vain, besides he''s on team long hair himself.


    "So what now? Do I just wait around for grampa to pick me up? As much as I''m glad to be here, and I really am grateful, I wouldn''t want to impose too much on you. "


    "For everyone''s peace of mind yes, I''d prefer if you stayed where I can keep an eye on you. I''m sure your parents would prefer it that way as well. Honestly, what was Ronald thinking?"


    "Did grampa send me out here to find you maybe?"


    "Absolutely not, he doesn''t even know I''m out here."


    "Didn''t he leave to visit you in the North but a few months ago?"


    "Never said I was there though, heh. Might have missed me this year."


    It''s like hide and seek then. What a strange friendship.


    "Anyways there''s plenty of room and you''re welcome to stay Rosalia. I assume you''re mentally old enough to not have to be babysat but given your current physical state, well I''m sure you understand."


    "Yes, thank you very much for opening your home to me. Please don''t mind me, I wouldn''t wantto get in the way of your daily routine."


    "No worries, Ronald does enough of that already. Compared to that trouble magmet, a smart behaved child like you is no bother. "


    Truly a strange friendship between these two but that''s a given.


    "Then, please take care of me until then."


    ----


    Just like Gable said, grampa is known for being late.


    My cold came and gone but that one night in the hobbit house turned to two then three and now going on near two weeks already.


    Gramps definitely overshot that ''3 day''s'' pick up date. While it''s exasperating of him, I''m secretly glad about it. Every day here has been enjoyably fascinating with the seemingly endless amount of research, books and pleasant company in this cottage.


    Even if I do get assigned some daily household chores. Gable has no qualms with putting me to work and keeping me busy. It''s really no big deal to me, who used to be a normal commoner, but wouldn''t it be simpler to just use magic?


    But hey what do I know?


    If I''m told to sweep, organize some shelves and feed some strange giant ''farm'' animals each morning well that''s not too unreasonable. Those mutant eggs are great, even if the huge mother birds are very dinosaur-like terrifying. I always believed the T-rex had feathers and this may be what they looked like if shrunk down to the size of a goose.


    I don''t mean to outstay my welcome but again, better under someone''s supervision than off on my own getting eaten by a wild something. The worst thing that could happen to me here is maybe getting kicked by the old ''goat'' during milking.


    I''m actually having a very nice time playing farm house, it''s very refreshing as it is a workout.


    Well, Gable has to keep self sufficiently feeding himself somehow. Of course, there would be a vegetable garden and some usable ''farm'' animals in addition to all his strange herb plots. Though the more valuable and dangerous plants are kept in a nursery underground.


    Relying on the bounty of nature is fine and all but inconveniently time-consuming, though we''ve gone out for a foraging ''walk'' twice already. Only then am I allowed to walk past the illusioned gates of the compound, beyond the firewood stacks and common vegetable patches.


    By now I''ve been here long enough to accumulate a tiny pair of scrapped fur lined leather boots and an enchanted weather resistant hooded cloak for when I go outside. The cloak was a dark brown, child sized and of course hand crochet. Upon my request and recalling a simple pattern from my other world, I asked for Gable to attach cute bear ears on the hood.


    Cuteness must always prevail.


    The foraging trips were quite educational as I was introduced to many other plants and creatures I previously did not notice or knew the useful properties of. If I''m ever caught stranded in the woods again I''ll have a much easier time.


    But we ended up with much more wild mushrooms and common spring fruits since those are the things I can best identify.


    The rest of the time Gable is often working. He seems to have multiple projects going on all at once and even if he was only working on one thing I wouldn''t be able to keep up with understanding it.


    He''s like a busy stay at home author or freelancer back in my world.


    Very self disciplined with his work and very likely to forget all sense of time. There is no clock here but Gable doesn''t seem to need it anyways. The hobbit house is so full of skylights and bits and pieces of scattered natural windows that it''s easy to judge the time of day.


    I don''t know if it''s my added pretense but he seems insistent on taking time out for three solid meals a day.


    We had just popped an herb mushroom quiche into the kitchen oven when he mentioned it to me one afternoon.


    "You weren''t a fighter were you."


    Sudden but it wasn''t a question, the slightly sad tone of voice told me he wasn''t talking about the present. While he often treats me like a small child in need of assistance, which I am, Gable always speaks to me with an adult sense of respect.


    I appreciate that and in return never play games with him in the way I do others


    "No...I mean I''ll put up a fight if need be but, the people in my world didn''t need to fight so much."


    "You cook, you know a lot of recipes from what I''ve seen. You read a lot even without aid, somewhat education. Even without me you could forage the woods. You even know how to craft some...creative things."


    He gestures to the flower headband on my head that I crochet a dew evenings ago, curled in front of the fireplace as he made by the little cloak. They''re simple to make and I crocheted two other plain ones as a thank you token for Gable, to keep his hair out the way if he needs it.


    What he meant though was that my behavior showed that I was a normal civilian. Softer, a support player, not a frontline warrior. That''s how this worls operates thought peace has finally come, the battles too fresh for most of the older generations.


    It''s true though, I was living in a 1st world technologically advanced country. Where would I need to fight? Outside gym sessions or women''s self defense classes where would I get the opportunity to? No, I was just a normal young woman who never even held a real weapon. Unless pepper spray counts?


    "Ronald was, ...a soldier I mean. In his life before. Sometimes he forgets not everyone is one, too caught up in his world view. "


    "It can''t be just that....grampa treats my mother very gently, and my little sister too."


    "Either too gentle or too rough, no in-between with that idiot."


    I think I can understand what Gable is trying to defend here. He won''t tell me grampa''s origin story but in between the safe retelling of stories I would hear anyways, he slips up. He tells me bits and pieces about grampa that paints a very human picture. Not a god or an infallible hero, just a person, very possibly with PTSD, with a lot of goof ups, mistakes and good all mixed up.


    How gross.


    I want to say it''s a biased picture but Gable isn''t the type of view anyone but with the truth, especially his best friend. It partly clashes and greatly fills out the image of the grampa in my head. Of course, I won''t admit to sympathizing with him, can''t make it that easy.


    "So he''s either a brute of muscle head or a useless family dog?"


    "Oh absolutely."


    The dishes float to the sink to wash themselves and I undo the little apron over my new handmade overalls. I''m not a cartoon character, one outfit the entire time wasn''t going to cut it and Gable is a very neat tailor.


    He was already crocheting more clothing for me anyways. If I drew out the clothes or a pattern I remembered from Home EC, it could be shortly produced. It was rather nice not having to make excuses for just knowing things.


    Our peaceful craft time in the evenings are more enjoyable than my downtime back home.


    I''m learning a lot out here, not just foraging and farm work.


    Potion brewing was never one of my strong points but Gable makes a splendid tutor, it being one of his specialties. I can already make my own cold droughts and work at enchanting simple things. My most glorious work, however, has to be making some much better tasting internal healing potions, low grade as they are. They''re a little fizzy, like soda pop!


    At first, I was concerned about falling behind on weapons training and such but as Gable reminds me, I was never much of a physical fighter.


    "By all means, if you have something keep at it. Can''t have too many cards up your sleeve."


    There''s plenty of time as Gable rises early and I try to follow him, though I do still need my afternoon naps. So I run my daily exercises as I see fit, just to physically keep up. The farm and housework eliminated any need for a weight routine though.


    As much as I''m learning here, even through just observations, the best part is how I can just be. I may be small but I don;t have to play a part other than a polite house guest. I can speak freely without fearing giving out suspicious information because it''s only Gable and the woods here and he already knows. No pressure and certainly no spying eyes on me, it''s quite nice to live so freely.


    I understand why Gable keeps to himself so away from the rest of society now.


    While I can''t live like he does, I still have a lot of growing up in this world to do, I really hope this peaceful time stretches out even for a little bit more.


    As all good things though it must come to an end.


    A tremor runs through the ground.


    I think it''s an earthquake before Gable draws a circle into the air, a portal with camera vision of the surface showing through it. An air headed man, far too familiar to me to be called handsome, appears wandering across the screen like a lost dog.


    "Rosie! Here girl, where are yooooouuu?"


    Grampa''s familiar voice vibrated through the ground from wherever he is on the surface and instead of joy or even relief at his late arrival I can''t help but feel irritated and curse.


    Why am I being called out like the common pet dog?!?!


    "Rooooosa! Grampapa is here! I know you''re somewhere around here. Well, at least the bag is....huh funny, swore I passed that tree before."


    "...He''s caught in your illusion isn''t he?"


    "Works every time, oh well better late than never. Just be glad it didn''t take him 5 years this time kid."


    You know what, I actually wouldn''t mind that.


    Damn grampa.


    ----

 36 Go play, Adults are talking

    "So how do you want to do this?"


    Gable asks me, grin already climbing onto his face without his control. Ah he''s going to have fun ripping grampa a new one, I can tell.


    "Whatever you think best Gable, it is your home after all."


    "Yes but this is your grandfather."


    Given my opinion is rather bias. I''d personally just want to say ''leave me alone, I choose to live here peacefully with Gable-sama from now on please.''. OF course I can''t just throw that out there, let''s put that in more palatable terms.


    "Well I''d rather not be senthome with him right away. I quite like it here, if you''ll have me that is"


    "I don''t know about that, your parents must be worried. But you''re certainly welcome to visit and stay in bursts, if you can make it."


    Gable travels quite a bit, is well known for off and disappearing. And unlike the great hero Roland, the mage Gable tends to stay far away from the public eye. As charming and much more sensible as he is, he''s cut from the same sort of cloth as grampa.


    In polite terms they both like their independence and freedom too much.In reality they''re both a varied degree of crazy with a sense of wanderlust.


    There''s also something about how his handsome smile reaches up into his eyes, they impossibly sparkle. Baby blues clear by the light of the portal instead of the grey tint they tend to have indoors.


    Gable is happy to see him too. He may say things and avoid him but he''s happy to see my crazy grampa. Ah does that make him just as crazy too? You have to be to like a lunatic like him.


    But I won''t bash it.


    I know the only reason sir Gable has been so kind, open and welcoming to me is due to his deep relations with grampa. Despite that he doesn''t want to see me ''grow up to be another ROnald'' whatever that means.


    For now it means finish tidying up the kitchenbefore heading out to see gramps.


    Before heading out I put on my shoes, rabbit patch vest and bear eared cloak. I wonder if grampa will recognize me, which given the lack of toddlers out in the forest I think should be an easy conclusion.


    Right at the doorway Gable has me hold as he puts an illusion spell over us. Just so we don''t get spotted and ran over right away by grampa. His illusion spells are amazing but I haven''t been able to catch on to any of that yet.


    It be nice to learn something of that sort that doesn''t require magic.


    It''s also funny to watch grampa wander around, passing over us foolishly when we''re literally right there.


    He was dressed casually, no metal armor in sight, and looked absolutely defenseless, though I knew better than to take his appearance at face value. A man like grampa would never walk out anywhere defenseless.


    "Here Rosa, come out girl!"


    Could he stop calling for me like I''m a lost dog though?! Ah I''m too tired with this.


    "Oh shitty old man!"


    "Eh? My darling little granchild, where are youuuu?


    "Over here."


    "I can hear you but I can''t see you? Oh! Are we playing a game?"


    No I''m not flipping playing hide and seek. I''m literally standing right in front of you. Out of petty pent up spite I take a cheap shot kicked right into his shins. It''s obviously nothing he can''t handle but I aim for the bone where it would hurt any other normal human.


    Of course that''s when the protective illusion over me fades.


    "Ack! My leg- Oh Rosa, there you are!"


    That was when I''m stuffed into his well endowed chest and squeezed. Even while choking I''m hit with a sense of deja vu. being stuffed into a too large chest and too tight welcome back hugs. Ah is this where mother gets it from? Grampa''s pecs are terrifyingly impressive.


    "Mmppffffm!!!"


    " Grampapa is sorry, you''re so tiny I must have missed you."


    "mmmfff!!!"


    "You did so well, I knew you wouldn''t die that easily. Though I didn''t think I''d somehow lose track either."


    When I''m allowed to breathe normally again it''s still in his large hands, held like a pet puppy up for inspection. I''m lifted by my chest and shoulders as he inspects me the way one would inspects fruit at the market. I even get my little butt patted down.Arg how annoying, but it''s futile to fight him.


    "Hmmm not that it''s not very cute but I don''t think this is what you were wearing before."


    Grampa pinches at my bear ear, eyeing the crochet wool suspiciously.


    "It''s not! How was I suppose to survive in that? Just that? For two weeks!!!"


    I have a not so short of grievances here that have finally found their source.


    "2 weeks! The note said 3 days and it''s been two weeks!"


    "And you did so well, look how healthy you are. No healing needed."


    "No thanks to you! There was near nothing in the bag, not even food!What maniac leaves anyone, a kid, in the woods with no supplies? I''m too small, but even if I wasn''t I still can''t ''survive'' this shit!"


    "I always believed in you and besides you look pretty alive to me. "


    "2 weeks!!!"


    How infuriating, can''t he at least have the decency to be a bit more sheepish. Is a ''sorry I''m late and an idiot'' too much to ask for? Also, put me down! Before I could catch my breath enough to lose myself into a full raging rant, back up makes himself known.


    "She''s right you know."


    At the low voice, grampa whips his head faster than I''ve ever seen him do, grip tensing around me. Still he makes no further movement, his expression going from genuine shock to an unusual grin.


    "Hey there invisible stranger."


    What is he talking about, Gable is standing right there. But hey I don''t know how illusion magic works, maybe it''s still activated on grampa.


    "I don''t suppose you''re to thanks for taking care of my adorable little granddaughter here."


    "Keeping her from not dying you mean."


    Grampa settles me more comfortably int he crook of his arm, eyes still circling around himto pinpoint the mage. He''s off but by not that far.


    "You''re looking good."


    "You can''t even see me right now."


    "Well no but you always look good."


    Why am I getting shivers up my spine? It''s not uncomfortable but, ah I''m probably just really irritated at grampa for ignoring me. Me, the literal toddler he left alone to wander the wilds.


    "Geez old man it would have really been bad if Gable wasn''t here. I caught a cold you know?"


    "Let me guess, he nursed you back to health. How nice, I must thank your savior graciously. anytime he wants to come out now."


    "I really should just leave you in a maze but then the child would be stuck with you."


    "But I''m already lost in your eyes."


    "You still can''t even see me right now!"


    Gable is clearly exasperated and I nod in aggravated sympathy. Grampa tends to have that affect on anyone and everyone.In the meantime grampa seems to catch on that I can still see Gable, illusion or not, and follows my line of sight. At least he''s facing the right direction now.


    Since the jig was up,Gable let off another frustrated wave and must have dropped whatever was making him invisible to the other party.Grampa was smiling quite largely now, a very stupid look, happy but stupid.


    "I missed you this past season, you weren''t in your usual place."


    "False, I never have a usual place."


    "My bad, I couldn''t find you this year."


    "It was longer actually. And have you considered the possibility I didn''t want to be bothered by you, again."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "You would have missed me eventually."


    "Uh huh, sure."


    Grampa turns up the charm with a an exaggerated wink and Gable face palms. Their banter is rather amusing, like watching a comedy sketch between a duo that has done this routine many times before.


    "These parts of the woods sure are awfully close to my base camp. Closest you ever set up camp anyways."


    "Inconsequential, it was simply time for a change of scenery. My last secret spot wasn''t so much of a secret anymore. Yes this area of nowhere is suitable for my purposes but who would have thought I''d find another soul wandering about out here, a tiny child. A mere babe ...abandoned....this deep in the woods?"


    "..."


    "The same babe you''re holding now, any thoughts on the matter Ronald?"


    "Well I wouldn''t say abandoned."


    I jab his armpit for that comment alone. The rest is angrily just smacking at whatever stupidly muscled part of flesh I could reach with my short arms.


    "You threw me on a giant bird! That flew off and dropped me in a tree!"


    "There was gear, you weren''t just left defenseless."


    "Not even a real knife, a toothblade! You gave me a tooth, some rope and fare for the bird! You didn''t even come when the note said you would!"


    "I got lost on the path of life but look at you with so much energy to spare, see my little dear you handled it fine."


    "No thanks to you!"


    Before I could pull my ultimate twisting pinch on the underside of grampa''s arms, I was again lifted out into the air. Since it''s sir Gable, and the fact that I''m finally put down I solid ground again, I''ll allow the puppy hold.


    Seriously why is everyone treating me like a dog?


    "Rosalia why don''t you go and explore the safe areas a bit more, places I''ve shown you. Perhaps the krakle berry patch from the other day?"


    "Ooooh krakle berries."


    "I''m excused from the following conversation you mean?"


    "Go ahead and gather as much as you like. Your grandfather and I have some matters to discuss."


    "Yeah go on now Rosa! Go play because the adults have lots to talk about."


    "....Ronald you''re really not helping."


    I understand that huffing my cheeks is rather childish looking but hey I''m petty. I''m an adult too you know, just not physically. I''m even older if you add both my lifetimes together, that makes me over 40. Which still doesn''t count in Gable''s book when I made that argument previously over some household task.


    Still I get that they must have private matters to discuss outside my unsupervised field trip.


    "Hmm very well then, I''ll leave you two your privacy."


    "Thank you Rosalia."


    "But I''m not sharing any krakle berries."


    "Hey!"


    "That''s also fine. Stay on the trails I showed you and be safe."


    "Okay, see you later Gable."


    "Hey grampapa is here too!"


    "Bye Gable, good luck with shitty grampa."


    My favored caretaker waves me off as I leave the gate, alone for the first time since we met. Whooo finally I get to wander off. No offense, I love staying with Gable and learning everything I have so far but a girl needs her solo time. I even skip to the berry patch in my little freedom.


    Also I hope Gable tears Grampa a new one.


    --------------------------------------


    "Ahh so cruel, did you teach her that?"


    "No but you honestly deserve it."


    After the two waved off the small child, the taller blond turned around through the forest path. Ronald quickly followed and walked in line with him, a genuine smile still tugging on his scruffy face.


    "So when did you move in? I would have helped out you know, could have saved a trip up North. "


    "You know I just simply can''t remember, flow of time was never one of my strong suits."


    "I really was shocked when I couldn''t find you last season."


    "Won''t be the first or last time hero."


    "Was it to be closer to meeeee? I really did miss you these last couple years. I love my family and my new grandchildren are really cute but you must know."


    "Yes I know and no I did not move for something as mundane or stupid as that."


    "You really do look good."


    Gable rolled his eyes, it''s hard not to when around something as annoying as Ronald. But there''s no heat to his action, no bite to his bark. Especially not when he allows the other man to walk so close, nearly shoulder to shoulder, familiar in each other''s presence.


    It was a comfortable banter and it could have stayed a comfortable silent walk. Could have.


    "Was it family drama then? Did your sister try to talk to you? Your brother in law?"


    "...I don''t want to talk about it."


    And the other man backs off, he always does know when to draw the line. That''s what made him such a magnet, a people person that could push and prod his way into lives and yet make people stay right where he wanted them to.


    It''s just a little, a lot, more difficult with Gable. But he''s used to it, he respects his long time friend too much to really invade anyways.


    So comfortable silence again it is.


    When Gable stops walking so does Ronald. With a pull and a twists of the hand a homey wooden gate unlocks, materializing out of thin air. Ronald follows faithfully, awe in the garden and bits of pieces of a hidden home appearing out of thin air.


    "Your illusions are always dazzling every time I see them Gabe."


    "....That''s actually what I wanted to speak to you about."


    "Oh? "


    "You''re still not off the hook abut leaving a toddler in the woods."


    A hidden door in a hill opens without a creak. With the familiarity of a long time resident, Ronald takes off his dirty boots and hangs his loose cloak on the hanging hook in the same spot he''s always used, the same spot left for him.


    "Nothing''s changed I see."


    He sprawls out on the pile of cushionson the floor, just the way he likes it , while Gable sets the fire lit. He fiddles with a brew, something that permeates the room making it smell spicy, sweet, and strong all at once. Ronald knows he''s going to love it even before a mug of that steaming stuff floats his way.


    With a tall mug of his own Gable settles into his chair, tired and not a giving a damn about his usual proper posture.


    "You know how it is, how I like living my life."


    "Yes I would like to think so."


    "I like it hidden."


    "Uh huh."


    "I like how you probably floundered around trying to find me the better half on winter."


    "I knew you were just playing hide a seek."


    The mage actually snorted into his spiced drink and gave his companion a level glance. Ronald gives a shrug and winces when the brew, wine?, burns his tongue for drinking too fast.


    "You can never find me when I put up my wards."


    "Is that a challenge I hear?"


    "Well you can certainly keep trying but no....no one can break through my wards."


    "Yes yes you''re the best, all hail the great invisible mage Gable. May he forever trap you into seeing things that aren''t there."


    "That''s the thing though."


    It''s not the following silence or the tenseness in Gable''s brow that halts Ronald''s snickering. Maybe it is, maybe t''s both but it''s something that Ronald has long recognized when Gable is serious or concerned.


    "Ron...how did you find me?"


    "Well you just appeared, right behind Rosalia."


    " That we still need to talk about but...that kid, she found me."


    "I''m pretty sure you found her."


    "No...you''re one of the best and you never saw a trace of me. "


    Gable flicks his finger and a thin trail of smoke leaves the blaze, swirling around the room and under their noses.


    "That kid followed my smoke, the damn fireplace''s smoke to my house. She followed it because she can see it, she can fucking see it! Then even with my wards and arrays messing up her senses, she saw me. "


    "...."


    Gable sharply turns to look down on the brunette on the floor, examining every expression flickering in those deceptively warm brown eyes.


    "Ronald....you told me the kid has no magic potential."


    "She doesn''t, Gable I swear she runs negative. I checked, repeatedly. You know how paranoid I am...are you saying I''m wrong?"


    "I can''t sense anything either, there''s no trace of magical veins running through her body."


    "Is she hiding it?"


    "No oh for God''s sake don''t get heckled up. No the kid doesn''t even know about it herself, and yes she''s just a kid. Don''t let her smart mouth fool you, her soul is so damn young. Just a damn innocent kid."


    "She talked about it?"


    "Amazing the things people are willing to share if you just talk it out like a normal person."


    "It just...never came up."


    Gable sighed and was in great need of a refill, when he hasn''t even finished half his cup yet. At least Ronald had the decency to look sheepish, and he can''t really stay mad when Ronald chews his lip and looks like such a kicked puppy.


    "The point I''m trying to make here is something is up with your freakish genes. One of them has the Goddess'' dawn blessing and a terrifyingly powerful core. The other not only takes after you but can see past my weaker illusions like it''s nothing "


    "I swear Gable I didn''t know, it''s negative every test I run."


    "That just it isn''t it?"


    "Okay jokes aside, you really are the smart one out of us. What are you trying to say?"


    "Negative...the kid is negative."

 37 Thats not a berry

    If I were to explain a kackle berry to my previous self I''d say it looks like a giant yellow blueberry but tastes like a lychee cherry cross without the pit. Delicious right?


    I''d also say they have the tendency to explode like tiny firecrackers.


    They are such inconvenient berries, good luck getting some of these things fresh. A literal cherry bomb. They''ll never make ti through normal shipment means without exploding into mush. While the mush is still edible, it''s quite fun to pop a mini fruit explosion into your mouth whole.


    Due to their delicate nature, they''re quite expensive in the market.


    It should be no problem if I store them in my inter-dimensional bag but it''s not worth the hassle to handpick them all. I prefer the mush anyways, I want to boil it into syrup. Wouldn''t it make great a great drink mix or desert ingredient?


    Sugar is too expensive in this world, any sweetener is going to be useful. At least tooth decay isn''t a big issue among the people with the lack of sweets.


    Even with my staff and buckets, it''s tedious work to smack and collect the kackle berry mash. Well, Gable probably needs more time with whatever ''catching up'' those old geezers are doing.


    They''re honestly not that old, nor do they look it since they keep in good physical condition, at most they''re in their late 40s. But if I''m going to be treated as a child they get to be stinking old geezers.


    Of course, Gable is a dashingly handsome old geezer, would give any veteran Hollywood heartthrob a run for their money.


    Thank all my accumulated karma points for the chance to bask in his presence.


    While I am curious about what''s going on, I''m not brown-nosed to the point of intruding. It''s fine. When I grow bored with berry slush gathering, the sun is still rather high in the sky. To dawdle a bit longer and give them more time I decide a little extra foraging couldn''t hurt.


    I take my time wandering off the supposed paths. The extended time here has made rather confident in my woodsy surroundings.


    It''s much easier using an actual forged metal knife than a tooth. The small fixed blade that Gable left me is probably something of a carving blade given its size. It''s the most he can trust me not to injure myself with and honestly that''s fair.


    There''s still something bothering me about earlier but I just can''t figure it out. It''s lingering behind a very flimsy curtain in my mind, something that feels like it should be very obvious and that''s what annoys me.


    Oh well, it will come to me eventually.


    Something else that comes to me instead is a beautiful dark butterfly fluttering in the wind.


    With teeth.


    Butterflies... don''t....have ... teeth!?! What in the shit?


    "Get it you imbeciles!"


    "I would already if you didn''t miss!"


    "Can we please get me out of this net?"


    "There it went that way."


    The surprise of the ruckus of people isn''t too much of a shock as a butterfly with actual teeth but it''s a fair shock of noise in an otherwise peacefully quiet place.


    What really matters is that I recognize some of those voices.


    "Vinny just take it easy now."


    "Just get the damn butterfly!"


    Of course, it makes sense for grampa''s personal troops to not be too far.


    For a moment I wonder if that means my family is here too. Probably not, since the woods are too dense to really go through. The noises indicate that it''s a small crowd, most likely just the inner raid crew. That''s certainly my necromancer, Vincent, high pitched screeching through the air.


    And yes he is mine, even if he doesn''t know it yet. So is Miss Tamera and anyone else I find a worthy investment, *cough*shield*cough*. I called dibs.


    Since some of my, future, people are in need of this strange fanged butterfly I''ll keep an eye on it. It must be of some value if the inner troops are searching for it.


    "This way everyone it''s- oh, hello there. Excuse me but have you seen a weird butterfly around?"


    "God damn it who the fuck are you talking to now?"


    Out of the dense trees comes a pair of a weird little boy and a pretty but grumpy looking teenager. I don''t recognize the blond teen, who I can''t tell if they''re a boy or a girl, but the kindergarten looking kid is definitely someone I know.


    "What the crap there''s supposed to be no one out here, unless..."


    "Oh hi Rosalia! Did you get a haircut? It''s very nice, have you been well? Funny we were looking for you for a long time but then everyone gave up and left it to the Commander. Did you see him yet? Oh, there''s the butterfly!"


    How is this child in Grampa''s inner party again? You know what, I don''t want to know. Especially not if it involves another sharp something to my neck.


    "Hello to you too Amar, yes I''m alive and thank you."


    "Mmmm that''s good, glad you''re ok!"


    "Oi does the Lord commander know you''re here? He''s had us looking out for a week. Has a damn magic tracker and we were fucking still lost."


    I don''t blame the teen for his rudeness, God knows what Gramps put them through. More and more people in the standard-issue beast leather armor begin to stumble through into the clearing. I even see Tamer. Great, saves me the trouble of repeating myself.


    "Yes, I''ve ran into my grandfather already. He''s busying discussing matters with his friend sir Gable."


    A one-eyed woman I don''t know the name of raises a dramatic eyebrow as she approaches the gathering.


    "Gable? As in our pissy Gable? Gable with the illusions and perfect hair is out here?"


    "Yes, the mage Gable is the one to thanks for my care these past weeks. I was told to "go play''while they''re catching up but I can lead you back to them right about now."


    The small crowds of mostly hardened adult warriors half groans and half panics, how odd.


    "No no no no oh god no that really won''t be necessary Young Miss."


    "Please just call me Rosalia."


    "Oh hey Rosalia, dang nice cut, didn''t recognize you like that."


    "Hello and thank you Lukas, nice to see you''re well too."


    Everyone''s a little roughed up but overall the troops look to be in fine health. Though some of their expressions aren''t very good.


    "Ahem, then Rosalia, how long ago did you last see them?"


    "I would say about 2 hours ago."


    "Oh shit"


    "Yeah, way too soon."


    "Nope! Not dealing with that. Not again!"


    "Little Miss Rosalia, those two have some long ...talks, very very long talks.Don''t want to disturb now."


    "Oh no, no disturbing, you don''t want to do any disturbing."


    "Really best to leave them at it for ...another few hours. "


    "Do we even have enough healing droughts ready? Calming ones?"


    How strange, but the troops know their dynamic better and for much longer than me. They''re awkwardly suspicious but I don''t sense anyone is trying to lie. What are those two going to violently fight or something?


    I never saw Gable as the type to, what a surprise.


    Well whatever, they''re grown adults with hero & magic shit to go over.I just hope Gable remembers to take the quiche out of the oven before it burns.


    Vincent coughs with the subtly and patience of a rhino but it gets my attention.


    "Well it''s very nice to see you''re alive and well Rosalia, truly I''m glad, but have you happen to see a strange butterfly, say about this large, purplish."


    "The one with teeth?"


    "Yessssssss that''s the one."


    I not towards the younger grumpy teenager and point to where I last saw the creature fly off too.


    "I believe Amar followed it into that bush?"


    "Shit! After him!"


    What''s the big deal I want to ask, but it looks like it''s chase first ask later. At least no one is negligent enough to forget about me and leave me behind. The problem is that I''m picked up and carried off like a puppy dog again.


    Seriously?


    Well at least it''s Tamera and not someone I don''t know. She has a very comfortable hold and some wonderfully defined biceps, very strong arms, nice arms.


    Unlike a certain muscle-bound grampa she can actually use control and not crush me to death even while running. Much appreciated.


    In due time we catch up with who I think is Amar or well half of him. He was on his knees and half crawled into a bush.


    "Is it in there Amar?"


    "Yep!"


    "Oh thank the goddess, let me see."


    "Ah be careful Vincent."


    "I know what I''m doing, now show me where it is."


    "Finally"


    "Ohhh I want to see too."


    "I can''t believe we''re doing this for oneshitty bug."


    I agree with the teenaged grumpy cat. Now that we''re here can someone explain what''s going on? Also teeth on a butterfly? Never heard of that before, why would a bug need teeth?


    "Damn it''s flying away again!"


    "I did say be careful."


    Luckily for those who no longer wanted to run the fanged butterfly nearly flutter around the area before gracefully attempting a landing on someone.


    "Fuck! Shit! Get it away from me!"


    Screamed grumpy Blondie, wildly waving his(?) hand in the air to shoot the little thing.


    "Don''t do that Yuna!"


    "Get your creepy bug away! AHHH Fuck!"


    "Yuna!"


    So that''s what the teeth are for... obviously. Call me old fashioned but I just don''t think butterflies should have teeth, especially sharp ones. It''s just wrong and painful looking.


    "Net! Use the net while it''s hosting!"


    "It''s doing what now?!"


    Some of the most powerful well-trained people in the known world, stumbling over a butterfly. This is just reality now.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    To be fair it''s a really freaky butterfly.


    "Got it!"


    "Finally!"


    The crowd cheers around Vincent except for the bite victim, who''s turning redder and less focused by the second.


    "Fuck shit what did that thing do to me?"


    "To be honest I''m not exactly sure. That''s why I wanted to catch the specimen."


    "Fuuuuuuuck."


    "Yuna you''re not looking so well. Here drink this down."


    Even with two mid-tier healing droughts he''s becoming increasingly incoherent, he almost looks...drunk. This obviously underaged teen looks roaring drunk. Is it a natural drug? Like those psychedelic toads?


    Most everyone exchanges looks among themselves except for those straight out laughing at the possibly poisoned teen or busy examining the caught specimen. I can make out snippets of excited murmurs and whispers of legends I''ve never heard of.


    At least he doesn''t seem to be dying?


    "Yuna how many fingers am I holding up?"


    "Smashhy, fuuu, I''m gonna beat yall ashes....guh."


    "...."


    Any healer know what''s going on here? Anyone? Vincent?


    Yeah, we may need some more help.


    -----

 38 Soda Pop

    Yuna, hmmm.


    Nope! Can''t remember any famous person called Yuna in my previous memories. Either they never made it big by the time I died or they went off adventuring somewhere too far away. Or you know, death.


    There''s always death.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I don''t think this young person''s cause of death should be from fanged butterflies though.


    The troops are only in these parts of the woods due to Grampa''ssearch for me. It''s absolutely not my fault, I was thrown here literally, but I still feel a little guilty if someone just straight up died in front of me. Though given how lively, slurred and drunk like he is, I don''t think immediate death is too much of a concern.


    "Yuna how about a nap? Just a little rest."


    "Don wanna ugh nap!! Wanna kissss asssss."


    "Pffffft you heard him!"


    "Will kissssk all yous asssess, gonna...*yawn* wach."


    "I think the calming drought is finally working."


    Despite some awkward protests it''s been decided that we should at least start heading toward Gable''s hidden home. Against my advice it has been compromised that we could set up camp nearby the area and later consult with Grampa, leader of this ragtag group, or Gable on what to do.


    My vote of course lies with Gable.


    The unanimous decision is however to let Yuna simply rest and to not disturb unless he''s absolutely irreversibly dying or being crippled. That''s....honestly rather cruel.


    It''s partly how silly the young teen looks, inebriated rather in pain. And I''m sure everyone here has been through worse, seen much worse situations. They''re not exactly disregarding or ignoring Yuna''s plight, rather they''re having fun with it. In that way you make fun of a sibling or your teammate on a sport team after they hilariously injure themselves. There''s no ill will.


    It still rubs me wrong, like a scar still a little too rae.


    Maybe I''m just sensitive from my own personal history. Being ignored, having no one care for your well being, being utterly abandoned and lonely even in a crowd of people, those sort of things hit too close to home for me. It throbs painfully in the way phantom limbs, scarred all over a stump, still feels and aches even when the limb is gone.


    Maybe that''s why I''m willing to quietly behave and sit inside the transport wagon right next to where the bitten teenager is laid out on a makeshift stretcher bed. He''s not quite unconscious yet, the blurred mumbling reminding me too much of when my own friends had too much to drink.


    You make sure they drink enough water and play along to their drunk ramblings as you take them home safe. Sometimes you even have to hold hair out of their faces when the''re sick over the toilet or stop them from drunk texting their exes.


    Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday I was doing such mundane things.


    It''s obviously not the same thing but I can''t stop projecting. It''s familiar and I don''t want anyone to feel that same sort of loneliness I have, I wouldn''t even wish it on my worst enemy.


    Besides there''s much more satisfying means of revenge.


    Ah I wanted to take control and lead the way back. These troops will at least partly be mine in the future, might as well get them used to it right?


    Instead I just shout out the general direction when needed while I sit here in the middle of the protected train. Obviously everyone preffered this method, keep the baby and the wounded in the middle in wagon. It''s the safest spot and we don''t slow down the pace of the rest of the party.


    "Yo, can you drink a little more?"


    I prod the slim teenager with a flask of water but he simply turns over like a cat, mumbling nonsense childishly. Ah this really feels too much like taking care of my drunk underclassmen.I''m even more motivated now, staying hydrated is the most important thing in these cases you know.


    "Tasted sssshitt."


    Ah did he mean the healing potions his teammates forces down his throat? The previous Rosalia definitely tasted those before, 0/10, would avoid. The mild ones, though not pleasant, are bearable to my child''s tongue but as you up the strength so do you increase the bitterness.


    From the scale of a too healthy green smoothie to traditional Chinese brewed medicine levels of bitter.


    Since we fed him mid grade it should be some level in between that. Two whole bottles were downed since inebriated Yuna kept spitting it back out and spilling them.


    A burst of spontaneity hits me, what about my soda pop potions? They''re not very effective since I am newbie at this but they''ll keep someone properly hydrated. Besides I want a guinea pig other than myself. Market research isn''t needs to be done.


    The batches with a boiled kakle berry mush base should taste alright. I have confidence in my sweets making skills if not anything else.


    "How about drinking this, you''ll feel better if you do."


    "Nuuuuuuu more nasty usg, ....why bbaby talking."


    I see, hmm how do you reason with an average drunk person? Exactly, you cannot. In a way , it''s best to treat them like small children.


    Also, excuse you? Talking baby my butt, I''m the older one here anyways!


    Popping out the cork, I take an overly exaggerated swig of thefizzy concoction.


    Mmmm it really does taste like a light fruit soda! Maybe not as sweet as I''m used to but pretty damn good for something made by my hands.


    Since I couldn''t get the liquid to carbonate, I tried fermenting it like a kombucha tea.The use of naturally explosive kakle barries give it more of that bubbly oompf that resembles anniconic champagne or soda. With Gable''s help and tips I was able to speed along the fermentation process. In return Gable was fascinated by the seemingly exotic process.


    The traditional drink was actually something my parents taught me how to make but it became something of a trendy health drink in the recent years before I arrived to this world.


    I wonder if that will sell here as well?


    I have no need to fake the pleasure and satisfied sigh while drinking, though I do play it up more. It''s an advertisement after all.


    "Ah so yummy! The bubbles pop in my mouth and it''s sooooo sweet. So good, I''m not sharing any of this at all."


    "Wat was that? Gimme that shit right now."


    "Nope, don''t wanna share!"


    "Grrr hand it over"


    "Oh no. You took it. Boo hoo. Oh no. Please do not drink it all. Noooooo."


    Reverse psychology works every time on kids and drunkards. Works a surprisingly high number of times of average people as well. It''s clumsy but Yuna takes the bait and downs it all, more out of spite than anything.


    The fact that he doesn''t spit anything back out is a good sigh.


    *Burp*


    He blinks confusedly at the bottle, then back to say a few inches left of me, then back to the bottle in a daze. It''s kind of cute actually.


    "Not bad."


    And then he''s down for nap time. Just fell over and plopped asleep, bottle rolling out his hands like Snow White''s apple. Neither drowsiness nor instant sleep was one the the effects of my soda potions, so I hope it''s the drunk bug at fault.


    At least the rating I got was passable.


    "Was it really tasty?"


    At the voice I look down from the side of the cart and see two familiar boys, obviously the youngest of the group, casually speed walking next to my ride. Were they there the whole time? I really have to do something about my lack of perception. I''m too defenseless and easy to sneak up on.


    But hey new guinea pig taste tasters! Maybe they won''t pass out on me, I need this verified. Besides what target demographic, besides teens, could be better than kids?


    "Mmm! Do you guys want to try one?"


    "Could we? I''ll try some!"


    "Heck yes!"


    Lukas makes the running jump up to the wagon first, followed by Amar. As they seat themselves in front of me I can see clearly that both boys look exactly the same aswhen I last saw them, a little dusty and more than a little hyper with energy. Their round faces showed excitement at the novel treat.


    Two inter dimensional bag fresh kakle berry sodas coming right up. Shame it''s not cold though.


    Popping the cork makes a satisfying loud pop and cackle sound. It''s nothing really, nowhere near as loud or surprisingly as the wild stuff that goes on around this world, it''s just no one expects it to come from a plain bottle.


    Amar takes a curious sniff and appreciative sips while Lukas suddenly drank nearly half of his in 2 gulps. Both of them said it''s tasty though so that''s a win for me!


    "How is it bubbly though?"


    "Seeeecret."


    "Who cares, could I have another one?"


    "Of course Lukas,. I''m still new at making these so tell me if there''s any effects."


    "I didn''t notice anything, they just taste good."


    Thank you very much test subjects.


    Somehow the ride went a lot faster with the added company. We''re different ages, ohysically and mentally, and haven''t seen each other in a few weeks but the ice was broken over the soda pops. At this age there''s no such thing as an awkward silence, bless. The conversation jumps all over the place and Lukas chatters more then a singing bird but it''s fine, it''s lively and fun. They''re strange 5 year olds but hey who am I to talk.


    We still checked to make sure the sleeping Yuna was breathing, he''s mostly fine, I think.


    I didn''t even noticed we arrived until some of the adults checked up on me to reconfirm directions. A few more magically inclined people reported feeling disoriented or ''off''. The gate wasn''t too far off, it was actually in viewing distance, but of course the wards must be up and they can''t see it.


    We actually may have been going around in a circle already. Whoops.


    How nice of Gable to leave it undisguised for me though.


    When we approached I make to get off the wagon. My legs are so short though that I had to accept the offered assistance from the boys. As nice as it is to be pampered, I want to be taller and more independent more quickly.


    ...Okay I mostly just want to be taller already!


    "So it''s just somewhere around here right?"


    Asked a gentle looking brunette, the one that has previously guided Lilyanne through her first sword lessons. Can''t remember his name though, oh well.


    "Yep, it right over there. I''ll go tell them we''re back."


    "NO!"


    And so we''re making camp with the drunk sleeping Yuna and I in the middle. Weird, a little rude but mainly just very weird.


    Even if those two are still fighting it''s a little excessive for everyone to suddenly grab me up and away from entering the property. I was just going to open the gate and maybe knock. It''s no big deal, besides Gable prbably already knows we''re here with his seeing portal.


    "Even more reason you don''t need to go in Rosalia!"


    "You''re absolutely right,they definitely know with Gable''s magic.And since they know they''ll definitely come out to meet us.Just as soon as they''re ready."


    ".....Don''t...just don''t."


    Everyone''s warnings are so vague and weird. Ah it''s really annoying, I just don''t know why I''m so bothered by it. Am I missing an inside joke here?


    Well I guess since Yuna isn''t straight out dying or getting worse it''s fine. Sleeping like a drunk baby.Maybe I''ll try sneaking in later when everyone''s distracted? Ha now that will really be a challenge.


    In the meantime though....


    "Ok but...does anyone else want to try ''soda pop''?

 39 Donst do i

    Good news, I snuck out of camp.


    Bad news, I couldn''t do it alone. To be more accurate I didn''t exactly sneak out as much as I deceived the adults.I say adults but this batch of raid troops consists mostly of college aged young people. They look and behave as such too, especially when excitedly passing around soda pops and the contents of their own flasks.


    Something tells me it''s not water in there.


    Can''t blame them, I was the same at that age.Besides they''re adventurers, fighters and scientists on an excursion, not parents or nannies.


    Now that I think about it my own parents are around that age too, huh. That''s explains some things.


    It''s not uncommon behavior among non nobles but the troops are more similar to modern people, careers first, settling down and making families later.


    The oldest besides grampa may be a little over 30 and they''re busy watching over these crazies. Like some poor TA or tired college dorm heads. To them a little kid like me is considered very calm well behaved in comparison.


    They''re all smart and strong folks, don''t get me wrong. If I tried to physically break out there''s no hope.


    But it I say with big wet puppy eyes that I want to go play with ''my two big brothers'' well then, there we go. Much more effective.


    "Well if those two are watching over you..."


    "Wait I don''t want to be on babysitting duty- ack"


    I''d feel insulted but this is Lukas here and I''ve come to figure out he''s just like that. It will be fine with a quick kick and if I just wave another soda in front of him. Honestly it''s very typical behavior for a 5 year old boy.


    Amar however has an even stupider looking face on. It''s all big sparkly eyed and open mouth in shock.


    "Waaah you never called us big brother before!"


    "....really now. You just must not have heard."


    "It''s always just the others, hey hey Rosalia say it again."


    "..."


    Well this is awkward but if it gets him to shut up and play along till we get out of here then I''ll do it. Big brother shits, you all should be calling me big sister.


    But it works, and we''re allowed to ''go play'' in the surrounding woods. I''m just reminded to keep away from the area of the Gable''s home for now. They really enunciated on that.


    It''s not like they can even see where the gate is anyways.


    But hey I''ll just go around the back or the sides, that should throw them off. The only thing is that I have to take these two children with me as a cover.


    Talk about babysitting duties.


    "Hey can you call me big brother again?"


    "...."


    To shut them both up I give them each another soda. Is 3 a day too much for children? Who knows, it''s not like this is real soda with any added sugars. I wonder if there are any stack up effects on them, since they are technically internal health potions.


    "So where were are we heading?" asked the darker boy, genuinely curious.


    If not for personal experience, he seems like the easy to bully type. Or the too nice type. He handed over half his latest soda to his friend, who gulped his share down too fast.


    "Thanks *burp*, but does it even matter? Wait why are we letting the baby lead?"


    "Because she gave us sweets? Also you have someplace in mind, right Rosalia?"


    "Oh yeah, wait where are we going~?"


    It''s framed as a question but the psychology of mischievous children is the same. Lukas already has a shit eating grin on his face and I''m sure Amar has long ago figured it out. How convenient it is to not have to explain.


    I wonder if this makes them smart or trouble making kids?


    "When adults say to do something, what should we do?" I bait and lure.There''s no need to play tricks when we''re on the same wavelength here. The boys snicker and answer correctly.


    "The opposite."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "That''s right!"


    Unlocking the latch is easy work with my hooked staff. How much security do you need when no one can see your place? Amazing work, as expected of Sir Gable. I''ve lead them up the along the gate for quite a while and they''ve noticed nothing at all.


    That very illusion starts dispelling with the movement and I can tell when it''s all the way gone from the way their eyes widen and take in the sight. It''s nothing fancy, just a simple twisted wood that looksfar past it''s prime. But it must be magical, that''s the impression the gate leaves alone even without the sudden appearance from invisibility,


    Even I think so, I can see the gate.


    "Whoa cool!" exclaimed Lukas.


    "So this is Mage Gable''s hide out?"


    We haven''t even crossed yet and the boys are in awe. They''ll be disappointed if they''re expecting g anything flashy out in the garden. All the good stuff is underground.


    "Stop staring and come on."


    I need to close the gate after us after all. I''m not sure how the illusion magic works but certainly I need to close the door after myself at least. I think it will go back up after I lock the latch and true, the lines of the gate blur into a transparent fog right after.


    See Gable must be expecting me if he left the gate partly visible.


    By the time i slide my staff back in the bag the boys were already wandering through the garden cautiously. I thought they''re would be running around, especially Lukas but they''re not normal careless civilians. They explored and poked at things but carefully, the way one would checking for booby traps.


    Definitely experienced in dungeon raids.


    "Does he live out here or is there an inside?"


    "Yeah I was expecting more of poof and a whoosh and a bling bing bam!"


    "....I''m sorry a what now?"


    "Boom boom pow, you know, aren''t mages supposed to be all sparkly and fancy and stuff. With their books, beards and uptightness? Right Amar?"


    "I don''t know, we haven''t met that many mages. Besides lots of people wave swords and they''re not all the same."


    "I don''t...think Gable is like that, he doesn''t have a beard at least. He has lots of books and is kind a neat freak though."


    Somehow I understood all that. Maybe my brain is more childish than I thought. Oh well it''s good to keep a youthful spirit, I don''t really want to be an old lady just yet.


    Personally I think Gable is more of a sparkle sparkle sound effect like shoujo bubbles accompanied by a refreshing breeze.


    "Hmm I guess, Rosalia you would know right? You''re a baby and all but you probably meets lots of people with your grampa. "


    "Yes but I only really know and talk to Gable, even then I''ve only just met him."


    I reply, even in the last life memories it''s not like I met many of them myself. I even further avoided them if they were affiliated with the church in any way and vice versa.


    "Ah I guess mages are just a mystery then."


    "Comes with the job description I suppose, sorcery and mages with their secret worlds."


    "Wait they have a secret world?"


    To be honest I''m not sure what the distinction between a mage and any other magic use is. A magic user is rare but mages are even rarer? I don''t know how this works I''m just a normal person. But oh boy would these kids enjoy the tale of Harry Potter. They''re a little older than Lilyanne, maybe I''ll get to fangirl and tell that particular series.


    I lead them up to the hidden hobbit doorway, looking as cute as ever. With twist and a push the door creaks open and we enter.


    "Whoa." exclaimed Lucas, quieter than I''ve ever seen him, while Amar spins around appreciating the sights and objects of mystery. I remember my own starstruck first reaction to the witch''s cottage part of the hobbit house, how strange and mystical everything looked. How so obviously magical.


    Wizarding world of Harry Potter, eat your hearts out.


    Cautious and well trained as always the boys look back to be to confirm for any traps up ahead. As long as they don''t meddle into the research stuff it should be fine, even I don''t know what''s explosive or not in here.


    Besides the really fun dangerous stuff is deeper underground, so I was warned.


    For now though we should just locate gramps and Gable.


    Yuna isn''t exactly dying but he was bit by a strange unidentifiable creature and is running a drunk fever. Isn''t that sort of thing detrimental to a developing teen''s brain? I don''t know why but I kind of like the pissy kid, reminds me of grumpy cat. Even if I didn''t don''t want him to just straight up die in front of me.


    "Gable, grampa I''m back!"


    Huh funny, no responses. They must be here, I saw their shoes at the doorway. They must be downstairs if they can''t hear me.


    "Follow me guys." I instruct, don''t want them touching anything they''re not supposed to. We take a not so quick trip to the stairs since there ere just too many distracting things to gape and stare at. I play a good host and answer questions where I can but it''s not like I even know half this stuff is!


    It is really cool looking though, it seems this house always has stuff I''ve never seen before, no matter how many times I look.


    For safety reasons we don''t touch anything. Normal children don''t have such good impulse control but no one here is a ''normal'' child, me especially. As curious as Amar is or unwilling as Lukas seems to be, they both have strict control and know what lines can and can''t be crossed.


    I''m not surprised at their discipline, you could easily die by touching the wrong things in a dungeon.


    The stair case with its glowing stones in contrast with the darkness brought forth some more ooohs and aaaahs. It''s not even my own property but I can''t help but shamelessly feel a little proud at showing it off. Gable''s taste and design skill sure is amazing.


    Speaking of which, were are they? I call down the empty hall and am left unanswered again.


    I hope they''re not in one of the further underground rooms, those are off limits to me. But I mean, this is an emergency here, kind of.


    "Let''s keep looking then."


    "Are you sure we''re allowed to come down here?"


    "Sush don''t be a kill joy Amar."


    "Of course, it''s all perfectly fine."


    AH I must have let a suspicious smile onto my face. I''m not normally so giddy and Amar must have caught up on to that. Still it''s 2 against 1 here, a little exploration never hurt anyone. I''m just not allowed in the locked rooms but I was never technically told not to go down the hall. Or to the other stair case.


    "Hmmm sure if you say so."


    CautiousI see, but he needs no further convincing and comes along easily. It''s fine, as long as we don''t go in a locked door and get eaten by some carnivorous plants or cursed all our lives we''ll be fine.


    The boys do sense something is up with my little white lie though as we''ve switched positions. Them both taking the initiative to step in front flanking while I stay a step behind. How gentlemanly, unnecessary but very appreciated.


    We easily pass the kitchen and bed rooms spaces, going further down the hall. There are no voices, no creaks, nothing that sounds like anyone''s home at all.


    That can only lead to the second set of stairs.


    Underground.


    ------

 40 The Wall

    This is how a horror movie starts.


    Not right at the very beginning but when the suspenseful music starts playing and the horror parts actually begins playing on screen. Where the characters are at the top of the dark ominous stairs and you''re booing at them with your popcorn to turn on the lights, grab a weapon, or just not do the stupid thing.


    I''m about to do that something stupid aren''t I?


    Three little children somewhere they''re not supposed to be, oh god I can see the not so fairytale ending now.


    Amar and Luka are definitely experienced despite their ages. They walk ahead, both on guard and hand lingering as if in ready reach of some hidden weapon.


    For some odd reason our steps echo in this stone spiral stairway, so different from the previous warm wooden one.It would be narrow to an adult but it could realistically fit the three of us side by side.


    Which is basically how we''re walking now that that our vision gets darker and darker. Me in the middle and half a step behind my older and much sturdier companions. There''s no stick on glow in the dark stones here. Just blackening darkness that seems to keep going.


    The stone steps and cool earthen walls made me think of European towers or castles with their ridiculousdefensive stairways. They made sense for the people defending the historical building way back then but were a pain for tourists.


    "Do you hear that?" Amar asked, voice barely above a whisper.


    I strain my ears but can''t hear anything besides our own echos. It''s dark and even though I know it''s nothing but a narrow staircase that has to end eventually, it feels infinite.


    "No, what is it?"


    "Sssshhhh."


    Still nothing on my part but Lukas twitches in response a few breathes later.


    "Water? Is that flowing water?"


    "Yes that too but there was something else. It sounded...well I''m not sure so I won''t say."


    "Just spit it out."


    "I''m really not sure, it''s so echoy in here it could be anything."


    He says it so easily that even in the dark I know he''s smiling in that half truth half lie kind of way. The dumb one that even I often fall for. But this isn''t the place for questioning.


    We keep going but it''s been too long, we must have walked down at least 3 flights by now. At first I didn''t hear anything but with since the boys claim they heard running water I tried to focus on finding that.


    Not just with my ears, if there''s water then shouldn''t we be able to smell it or sense other signs. Sure enough the air was getting damper and even I began to hear the trickle of water. Like that of an indoor mall fountain, not too strong or large but with no mechanical motor sounds.


    Realistically we can only go down but the sound of splashing water sounds stronger to my side?


    It''s been over 5 flights of going down by now, why not try something else.


    "Doesn''t the air feel...nicer over there?"


    It''s dark, too dark to see and we can only rely on touch and sounds. I stop and thus pause everyone''s movements , pressing toward my right into Lukas while pulling on Amar from the other side


    "No what are you talking about?"rumbles from my right.


    "What is it?" says the left.


    "You said you heard water right, if you can''t feel it then listen."


    It''s the same feeling when you''re in a subway or a mall. As stuffy as the air is, when a door opens, a fresh breeze flies through the tunnels. That''s even more strange than the fact that the sound of trickling water isn''t coming from below, where the stairs still don''t seem to be ending.


    Duh I''m so dumb, of course this is one of Gable''s mechanisms!


    Such a powerful and mysterious person is bound to have some more hidden passages and traps in his house. Who knows how long we would have walked down these endless stairs? Perhaps if we had fallen down we would never stop rolling!


    We must have all gotten the same idea that there was nothing for us downwards.


    Lukas was already leaning fully on the wall, ear pressed listening.


    "Yeah, definitely louder , what about on your side Amar?''


    "....there''s nothing like that over here."


    "So you guys believe me right?"


    Of course they do, because I''m right. Seriously though what''s going on here, hmmm.


    "Yeah guys I think something''s fishy about this wall too. But how do we get through? it''s too hard to just break right, I also don''t want those old geezers getting mad"


    True, Lukas makes a good point. Even if we could break through the wall it''s absolutely wrong to just break parts of someone''s home. Besides we''re technically not even supposed to be here right now, according to say everyone . Booooo.


    "Maybe you just have to knock."


    The other boy says jokingly, he takes the half step over me to reach the right wall from my other side. The tone is easy but he''s seriously knocking on various spots on the stone wall, as if searching for a secret knob that could activate this to open up.


    The chances of us actually figuring it out is next to zero. It can''t be that easy.


    Perhaps we should just go back up, the kitchen would be a much more comfortable place than this damp darkness. I''m feeling peckish anyways and could eat. I was just about to say so out loud, leaning against the wall feeling for the both of them.


    That''s when we fall.


    "Oh?"


    "Acck!"


    "Ooompf"


    "Oh, must have found it!"


    "Damn it Amar, warn a guy!"


    "I didn''t know that would work either."


    Found what?!?!Don''t tell me knocking really worked?!Just knocking randomly?! We just slid through a damn wall like it was the magical platform 9 3/4!


    It wasn''t a dangerous fall, not like tripping on stairs. Instead it seems as if the wall supporting us and our ministrations just turned transparent and had us flopping to the ground face first.


    The taller you are the harder you fall so luckily I''m not very tall. But there''s three of us tangle dand piled together, the surprise was more of a shock though.


    Before we could fully get up however our surroundings finally registers.


    Gone was the narrow stone staircase, in fact the wall wasn''t even really where it was before .Behind us, where it should be was the mouth of a cave, darkness stretched unnaturally beyond its mouth.


    Ahead however was an entire forest, with trees taller than they had any right to be.


    Is this really underground?! Was there a secret path to the outside?


    Impossible, not only because of the size and space but it was clearly dark here, as if it were nightfall. It had clearly been daytime when we arrived not but a few minutes ago.


    There was no sky, no moon to be seen but somehow star like lights brightened the space as if it were a full moon shining down.The glow stones perhaps, bur from from this distance it looked as if it were a tall starry sky. The air was cold and fresh as if we were really outside in another forest.


    There were trees and plants at various stages of life. On closer inspection rather than a forest there were parts of the space the resembled a nursery or a nature reserve. Pots and saplings freshly laid out, potted and obviously under the care of human hands. In the not so far distance there was sound of running rushing water that flowed into a nearby artificial creak.


    I''m very impressed, don''t get me wrong, but it kind of reminds me of something out of another shounen anime series. Something with a big secret training space that defies physics underground a recluse''s tiny little house shop.


    No complaints here, quite the opposite really. This is wickedly cool.


    The boys, though equally awed as I am, seem to have a different line of thought.


    "Is this a dungeon?" gasped Lukas quietly, or well quiet for him. His eyes, now reflective like glass, were still pointed above, gazing at the glowing starry sky. He looked on edge, but alive, like a puppy right before reaching the dog park.


    "No, I don''t think so...but this space may be built on something similar to a dungeon base."


    Amar recovers the quickest out of all of us, quickly and subtly analyzing the space around us for threats. Like this I see a little bit more of that unnerving boy with the knife from before. But he soon relaxes into his usual loose posture and easy smile fit for a child.


    "It''s really amazing, but it''s not a dungeon. We should be safe."


    "That''s good, it''s Gable''s place but I never seen or heard anything about this in my time here."


    "So...freaking....cool."


    While Lukas is still quite starstruck Amar looks back to the pitch black cave where we supposedly came from.


    "Can we get back or are we trapped?"


    That''s a pretty good question honestly. I dust myself off from the grass and follow him, taking two careful steps into that darkness, which by all sense should just lead back to the stairway. Since I''m cautious of stairs I take as slow careful steps as possible.


    I''ve fallen off of few in my lifetime okay! Stairs are always dangerous no matter who you are or what world you''re in.


    At first there''s nothing but then the air changes, stills and stagnates. It''s just as dark but the floor is stone and there''s a wall behind me again. Lo and behold, it''s the stair case.


    Okay then, not trapped after all. With that we can relax.


    "Huh what a strange entrance way."


    "Hey Amar?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Yes?"


    "What was that thing you heard earlier?"


    It''s simple curiosity. The boys as young as they are should have better trained senses than I do. It''s quite natural to magic users and well trained warriors to develop enhanced, well, anything and everything really.That''s why they could hear the running water much sooner.


    It doesn''t really matter if it''s nothing but I''d like to know if he possibly heard something dangerous, know what to avoid.. In the darkness I can''t see anything and definitely can''t make out his expression, but I can hear a light humm as he thinks out loud.


    "Hmmm I''m really not too sure."


    "It''s okay, I still want to know. If you don''t want to tell Lukas I can keep quiet."


    "It''s really nothing."


    "...oh."


    Well that''s mildly disappointing but hey if it''s no threat then good enough. Plenty of secrets in this place, can''t catch them all.


    "But, if it stays between us then maybe I can tell you what I think I maybe heard."


    "That''s fine! I won''t tell Lukas or anything."


    "If."


    "If?"


    "If you ask nicely and call me big brother."


    That shit again? Kids are weird int heir own ways. I actually don''t want to encourage this kind of thing, I have my line of pride too. But then I recall how I made the younger neighborhood kids call me big sis and used my older kid authority over them at that age and beyond as well.


    Guilty as charged.


    *sigh* "Big brother Amar, please tell me what was it."


    I recite plainly, like I''m reading out loud a passage in class when the teacher calls on you.


    "Waaah you did it! Didn''t think that would work either."


    I smack the larger brat in the dark, stairs or not. Not sure where'' I hit but I got something flesh.


    "Okay okay don''t be mad."


    "Hmmmpf."


    For some reason he felt the need to use my head as leverage in the dark , voice lowering to an unnecessary half whisper.


    "It sounded like animals."


    "Animals? Like a dog barking ? Or the farm animals?"


    Those dinosaur birds in the yard can cluck and crow something fierce. i''m just glad they don''t rooster crow at sunrise otherwise I''d be forced to wake up in panic every morning.


    "Not any farm animals, probably not a dog. Probably. They''re bigger. "


    "Oh, that''s not a very big deal? Is Lukas scared of big animals or something"


    "No he loves them, especially dogs. He definitely would have wanted to go find them if he knew."


    "Ohhhh okay I get it then, he really does suit dogs."


    "Right, he always wanted one and play''s with Tamera''s pets all the time. We should get back to him now."


    "Thank you for telling me, I won''t say thing to Lukas."


    With a sound of affirmation, the wall falls the same way it does before as we press against it.I still don''t believe knocking is what activates this thing but hey, knock knock.


    Being prepared for the lack of wall this time around we don''t fall flat on our faces, thank goodness.The sight of the starry foreign forest is just as magnificent though, especially right of the darkness. There''s something about it that makes it prettier, more aesthetically pleasing than nature right outside, like a well detailed art installation.


    Which would make sense if this was an artificial forest. Gable did tell me he had another nursery downstairs.I just wasn''t imagining something as grads as this.


    "Lukas!"


    No response.


    "Lukas where did you go?"


    "Luuukas?"


    We weren''t gone for long checking if the wall door worked or not but the named boy has already disappeared from the nearby clearing.


    "Lukas where are you?!"


    Nothing but the twinkling glow of the ''stars'' and a small breeze answers us back.


    Oh shit we lost Lukas.


    ------

 41 Greenhouse?

    So we lost a 5 year old in the secret underground forest, no biggie.


    Fuck we lost a 5 year old!


    Those things shouldn''t be lost anywhere, let alone in this place.Kids get into stupid things to could kill them all the time and now we''re in whatever contraband nursery the one of the known world''s greatest mages has set up. He could really be eaten by a carnivorous plant or worse!


    I get that the kid critically stabbed me one, another life time ago, but I don''t really want him to just go die.


    I''m not necessarily a nice person, but even most average people don''t want other''s deaths on their hands. Especially kids.


    Oh god children are so dumb and fragile, we gotta find him before he gets into some shit and hurts himself.


    "Rosalia, calm down."


    You calm the shit down!


    "It''s okay, don''t be scared, Lukas is strong. We''ll find him soon."


    "I''m not scared, it''s been one minute, where''d he go."


    "Then he can''t be far, come one let''s go look for him."


    He''s right, I admit it. Lukas isn''t that dumb of a hyperactive kid. He''s not a normal one either if he''s in the troops, he can handle himself, probably. I shouldn''t bite the kid''s head off for seeing reason or believing in his friend.


    The babying is a tad annoying but it can''t be helped, I''m used to it anyways.


    "Lukas?"


    "Lukas come out!"


    We travel closely in a mostly straight line as to not easily lose direction for wherever the doorcave was. I''m sure if worse comes to worse Gable could still find us, it''s his house. But let''s let let it get to the wrose case scenario shall we.


    Seriously how far could one brat get in like what, a minute? Where did Lukas disappear to?


    The farther we wander the taller the trees seem to get. As realistic as everything looks , to the point that anyone may think they''re really outside, there''s something about this place to screams fake to me. Apologies to Gable over the tacky comparison but it gives off a bit of that atmosphere of a false ceiling, like those painted in an indoor mall or casino.


    I don''t know, that''s just what it feels like to me the longer I stay in here, sure is pretty though. As large and open as it feel this is still a limited space. With that in mind we continue our search in peace, or well for me at least. Amar doesn''t appear fazed at all.


    Though he does point out some strange looking plants. Strange as in really creepy lookimg,should not exist, why does it have hair like a human head? Oh ewwww.


    "Huh, wonder what that one is."


    "Don''t touch it!"


    "Hahaha I won''t, you don''t have to hit me. Ah are you scared?."


    Maybe so but I''ve come to the conclusion long ago that little boys are not just dumb but recklessly suicidal. I''ve babysat enough recognize that much and pull him forcibly from possible danger.


    "I got it, don''t be scared, it''s very-"


    I tune him out because honestly this kid can talk a lot. He''s only quiet in comparison to Lukas, who is much louder and probably drown people out. Chatterboxes, the both of them.


    You know I wouldn''t be surprised if this is their version of calling ''Marco -Pollo''. Lukas is bound to hear us if he''s not too distracted by the sound ofhis own voice.


    "-and that''s how we ended up with a pirate;s leg. Oh wait that''s that?"


    "What''s what?"


    A what now? I zoned out and completely missed whatever story was supposed to be. As for what he''s pointing to, I can''t see anything out of the ordinary. Seeing my confused expression, Amarsimply leads me along further into the denser part of the artificial forest.


    Surprisingly the further we get, instead of increasing darkness, I''m begining to see a shine of light. IT stands out and we follow it to the source. .


    A glowing house.


    How funny, how fairy like. Inside someone''s hobbit home is another house no larger than a small garage, It''s a a strange but beautiful sight.


    As we get closer I see that it''s not so much a glowing littlehouse as it is a green house with the lights on.


    The glass isn''t clear nor clean cut like the greenhouses from the modern world. Rather they''re thick, blurry and tinted with shades that resemble a pale stained glass windows of old churches. From the flickering lights are shadows of hanging leaves and a little flowers that dance right outside.The silhouette of a not very tall persons stand behind the the glass in between shadow shelves of greenery.


    "Lukas? Is that you?"


    The shadow jumps and makes to look around, but rather than actlly look it seems to prefer yelling in every direction.


    "Guuuuy come check this out! Damn this is so cool."


    We breathe a sigh of relief because yep, that''s Lukas alright. Nice and safe. Like a crow to something shiny, he must have followed his way here. Wow do these kids have some good eye sight. I get that I won''t be able to wield magic but is it possible to improve my senses a bit? That sure would be useful.


    Amar and I circle around the greenhouse, looking for an entrance. Luckily someone left the glass and iron wrought door wide open. The grass on the outside ground is damp and slightly frosted, delicate little crystals reflecting a trail of light. I''m beginning to see my breath in the air.


    "So cold! Why is it so cold going inside than it is outside?"


    "Ah, it is pretty chilly in here. How funny."


    I take it back,this is no greenhouse.


    Sure it looks like one but it must have the opposite effect instead. It''s a damn freezer in here! I''m not shivering just yet but it won''t take very long for my teeth to start chattering too. Amar doesn''t seem to be as visibly affected but it''s certainly freezing in here.


    Ah sweater sweater sweater do I have a sweater or something in this bag? Nope. Ok lesson learned, pack more essentials in this bag, it''s like an infinity purse anyways.


    "Guys come looks at this! Isn''t it amazing?"


    If I didn''t have my hearing in tact I''d think I''d think I''d have stumbled upon a little snow fairy and his domain.


    Lukas stands in the middle of it all absolutely unaffected by the cold whatsoever, snow and icesomehow winding through the space. It looks like an normal inconspicuous green house that had been frozen over, but the plants here thrive on on it. The ice and reflecting light making his overly fair skin and hair look completely white.


    With both hands he reaches to toucha grapefruit sized rock at the end of the room. For a moment it flashes blue and I can''t help but think ''dumb boys'' and brace myself for some shit to happen. I may have used Amar as a shield to hide behind, he''s a bit sturdier looking option.


    Shit does happen, but not in the exploding way thank goodness.


    Somewhere from the ceiling, snow begins to lightly flutter and fall all around us. It''s a winter wonderlandconfined to only this little greenhouse garden.


    Ok I have to agree with Lukas, this is pretty amazing.


    It''s so magically pretty that for a moment I forget just how close I am to freezing here.


    "Whoa did you do that?" explained Amar, twisting around like a child and exposing me to more cold.. Ah it''s cold it''s cold it''s cold, pretty cool but cold. Haha I''m punny.


    Lukas gives out a delighted laugh, very satisfied in himself, as if he''s the one that personally made ti snow.


    "How did he? Obviously it was the rock, you saw that."


    Ok definitively beginning to shiver now.


    "Hey, it was definitely me."


    "Uh huh, suuuure. No magic rocks involved."


    Lukas huffed, a little offended in the way little boys easily are but still in a good mood.Amar either doesn''t notice or doesn''t mind our squabble, too busy catching snowflakes that instantly melt in his hands.


    "You try it then!"


    He gestures to the rock as if it''s a dare and I roll my eyes, playing along as I trudge along up to the challenge.It''s a very ordinary looking rock, gray, rough and broken in semi jagged lines, like it had rolled off from some mountain somewhere.


    Since someone else has tested first this is not a particularly dangerous magic rock I have no qualms putting my hands on it.


    It''s to not only my own disappointment that the thing does not glow like before, but the snow completely stops. Just completely turns off like a snow machine with a switch. The room doesn''t exactly get warmer but there''s no more snow piling up.


    Lukas raises a haughty little face and something about irks me the wrong way. No really, it feels annoyingly familiar. But from where?


    "See, now Amar you try."


    "Well ok Lukas, if that''s what you want."


    Amar walks up and pats the rock with his little hands, the darkest out of the three of us, and smacks it repeatedly. Nope, no glow up effect and nothing is happening. The magic freezer rock is out of service.


    "Hmmpf told you so., now watch me."


    I don''t get it but hey I''m not a magic expert. Amar good naturedly presents the dead rock back over to his buddy.


    Once in Lukas''s hands it lights up like a Christmas tree, a flash and humm of blue lasting much longer than the last time. Wherever the switch to the room''s snow making machine is, it flips back on the a snowy flurry is upon us again.


    Ack it''s cold it''s cold it''s cold, very impressive okay but it''s so damn cold!


    It''s not that I dislike the cold, I''m just not dressed or ready for it. Like a shock from getting stuck in a walk in freezer, which has happened to me before sadly.


    I huddle behind Amar again, the warmest source of heat here.


    "Okay okay you made you''re point, turn it off."


    "Hahaha I can''t hear youuuuu."


    "What!"


    Hear what you little shit?! What more do you want.!


    "Ah you really did it! I''m not sure what it is but wow how amazing Lukas."


    The named boy lets out a pleased cackle and then Amar, in a not so subtle manner, turns around to whisper to me.


    "Just make him happy and praise him a bit. He''s really easy after that."


    "Ohhhh."


    I can see that. There''s something that strangely annoys be about the kid but that''s what he is, still a child. It''s not even the attention grabbing talking that bothers me, in fact I find such behaviors quite relateable. As both the past Rosalia and the ''me'' of before. He''s just a child, and all children need a lot of validation and support.


    I wonder how much of it Lukas gets versus what he needs. An atmosphere like the training camp and traveling troops can''t be the best environment for children, even if they''may strong kids. It may sound fun at first but a place with no parental figures is lonely to children. I wonder how much care he gets at home, I wonder if he even has a home.


    Does Amar? Or drunk Yuna outside? They''re all quite young, what are they doing in a crowed like this?...It''s none of my business, but I think I get it, just a little bit.


    "Whaaa that''s so cool Lukas!"


    "Right it''s really cool, is it magic? Or something else?"


    "I don''t know but I think I like it!"


    There''s no need to lie but it also doesn''t hurt to play along and raise a kid''s confidence in a healthy way sometimes. Besides, it really is interesting how the snow machine switch on works with Lukas, I can''t recall whether or notif the cheeky boy in front of us has magic powers or any sort of gift. Nothing comes up, he was just a background character in my sad memories.


    I can''t recall anything but his passing appearance as one of my cousin''s cronies. Meanwhile Amar here doesn''t even appear in those memories. He is currently doing a great job as a little cheerleader.


    "Amazing Lukas but how do you make it glow?"


    "I don''t know but it feels easy. Really really easy, like playing in the first snow or drinking a ''soda''. I''m not even trying, how cool is that? I just must be that awesome."


    "Wow so turning it on is easy?" I play along, wonder in my voice. Lukas doesn''t expect a thing, and honestly why should he?


    "Of course it is!"


    "Then I bet stopping it is a lot harder. It must be too hard, it''s okay if you can''t do it."


    "Hahaha- of cou- wait what?!"


    Hook line and sinker.


    "I''ll show you, just watch!"


    He takes a deep breathe and stares down at the rock in his hands. It makes a rather stupid picture to see someone make a face so constipated like over a rock. Amar giggles along with me and I think I can see a little better how their friendship operates.


    The snow fall erratically around us. Sometimes it freezes in place in the air, sometimes it stops and starts again, for a few terrifying seconds it started piling faster than a snowstorm. Eventually he actually does get it stop, for good, minimal glowing needed.


    "Hehe, told you I can do it."


    His nose and cheeks are a bit red, some color to his normally pale features, and there''s a bit of sweat forming at his temple. But he looks and sounds satisfied, if a little, okay a lot, smug.


    Yeah, stopping is definitely harder but hey he actually did it. Amar and I break out in simultaneous cheers, jeers and teasing and Lukas reflects back as good as he gets.


    We absolutely forget why we came down here in the first place, myself included.


    "It really is amazing. I''m not sure how your made your way down here but I''m not surprised."


    So the sudden voice from the open ice-house doors catches me off guard. Surprises and shocks me like a common kid caught with playing where they''re not exactly supposed to be. Still I''m happy to see him leaning there, if I''m feeling a bit sheepish.


    "Gable! Sorry, we were just looking for you and gramps. "


    I can''t even say we didn''t touch anything because well just look at us. If anything I completely blame the boys, especially Lukas,


    I look back to them and see the "who are you" visible on their faces. Lukas showing more than Amar. Though they''ve heard the name and seen me identify Gable, they''re still on guard. The previously relaxed kids I was just joking around with have disappeared. They''re both as tense as animals about to take flight or stay for a fight.


    OF course such a small matter doesn''t bother Gable, he easily makes the rock fly across the room into his own hand. He shakes it lightly, as if he''s inspecting it, weighing it. His brow scrunches up a little on his otherwise perfect face, the kind that says he''s thinking about something overly complicated again.


    I notice that he''s changed clothes into something softer, more comfortable than his daily outdoors wear. His half tied hair, as neat and clean as always, is a little damp. Did he just bathe?


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    In the end he just lets out a long sigh and turns a gentle smile on us, the boys in particular. It may be my imagination when his gaze lingers somewhat too long on Lukas.


    "Well come along then, let''s get you all something to eat."


    ----

 42 My quiche!

    Like a primary school teacher, Gable leads the way and we follow.


    The boys are still tense but they come along easily enough. Especially after Gable leads them on with


    a vague:


    "Do you want to know what this rock entails? Why it snows?"


    It''s not that they''re fearful they''re just, on guard. If anything you could say they were on their best behavior, from what I know of themat least.


    They walk a little bit behind like the naughty kids in class, quietly whispering and signalling to themselves.


    I''m not sure what''s going on in their heads but It''s too troublesome to deal with. They''ll come to their own conclusions eventually, besides if I say it''s fine then it''s fine. Which is exactly what I told them to get them moving.


    "Come on already, he doesn''t bite"


    They both give me a look that says there are worse things than biting.


    "Hmm this isn''t the way back to cave." noted Amar.


    Since Gable is here of course I''ll leave it all up to him. Indeed we''re heading in another direction, deeper perhaps. I''ve lost track really but it''s ok. It''s like when you trust a parent to drive you, unquestioningly, that sort of belief in a person.


    So I believe it 100% when Gable literally walks up us to a damn tree and stands there expecting us to go through ii like it''s an open door. And not a whole solid tree.


    "We can just walk straight through it?"


    Well here goes nothing.


    Surprisingly I am not allowed to go in first, the boyssilently stop me and signal to themselves. They come upon an agreements and it looks like Lukas is up first. Ah so careful, they look very professional like this. I feel like a princess, or a wealthy client, with her guards.


    Normally Gable''s face is rather stoic but I think I''m making way on figuring him out over the days. Watching our interaction seems a bit amused and another part that I still can''t read, it feels conflicted.


    We all carefully watch, for different reasons I''m sure, as Lukas takes a rather exaggerated breath and essentially charges his way through the tree. It''s a pretty good war charge, I''ll give him that, very spirited. Seeing a person go "poof" and disappear out of thin air is really amazing! Quite Harry Potter vibes.


    Since he''s gone through, I''m next with Amar right behind me.


    There''s no need to rush up running, the supposed tree blurs and dissapates just like the earlier cave wall entrance.


    On the other side is not a dark staircase, surprising it''s the fireplace in the kitchen!


    Amazing! What a secret entrance!


    I''d be more amazed if I wasn''t distracted by the fact that my quiche is still in the oven. It''s a stone brick oven so it''s not like it''s going to get any hotter but it can still burn! Why didn''t Gable take it out earlier?


    "What are you doing?" asked Lukas, watching the whole thing since he arrived first.


    "Just help me out."


    I''m attempting to drag a kitchen chair since I''m too short to reach much and have no levitating powers.


    It''s much easier to use a boy to do the heavy lifting, though he does roll his eyes at me. Odd I swore Amar was right behind me, why isn''t he here yet. But Lukas is more than enough to scoot a chair and help pull the pastry pie out the oven.


    Ah thank goodness, it''s a little too dry on top but it''s not burnt.


    "You really been living here for awhile?"


    Asked the other boy after we managed to set the quiche out on a wooden board and wrap it up in a cloth to keep in warm. I''m technically not allowed to play with fire but I can at least boil water. I''m cold and want something to drink ok!


    "Hmm, yeah I have. Why?"


    "Nothing much, it''s just. Wow, you even call him by his first name. Just like that."


    "Have you never met Gable before, he''s very relaxed. It sounded like a lot of the troops know him so I thought he would be around more."


    "Maybe, not around me at least. I''ve only been allowed to go on a few raids so far and it''s not like kids like me are allowed in the meeting hallsWe hear about him a lot but we''ve never seen him.I know we can sneak in some but what''s the point, nothing interesting ever happens."


    He pouts and makes a face before returning back to his original volume.


    "Only Amar or Phillipe goes with me anyways. But we''re getting more permissions to go on raids and stuff!"


    Ugh, the mention of my cousin has me scrunching my nose.


    I may not have the best history with Lukas but that hasn''t happened yet. He''s a fun kid, a little suspicious but an overall alright kid. The thought of him or Amar turning into Charles lackey makes me shake my head. What a waste.


    They''re good kids, even without asking they automatically took the position to protect me.


    But they''re not like other servants that I can just pick up or some loyal hero to be that I can lure over to my side. These kids are too much wildcards, their pasts are definitely not simple, either of them.


    I don''t know what to do with them, where to place them. They''re on hold if they''re a potential future enemy or not, especially Lukas. But it doesn''t hurt to make for some friendly relations right? A little kindness costs me nothing.


    Even if I can''t cut them off from Phillipe I can at least make them a little more sympathetic towards me, when the time ever comes.


    At this time Gable and Amar appear from the dark bricks of the fire place. That took awhile, something must have gone on because the slight cloud hanging over Gable''s expression is eased. But he still must be thinking about something, taking a careful look between us. Meanwhile I can never read the younger, he always seems so happy and innocent till he holds something sharp and lethal.


    Wildcards, the lot of them.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Have you cleaned up yet Rosalia?"


    Gable asks unnecessarily, he can see how I must have just put down the pot holder. Lukas over here looks as dusty as ever, a real rough and toughing it boy, not so different from Amar''s current state. As messy as they look they seem so used to it and are nowhere near as bad I was when Gable first found me.


    With a wave of his hand a basin of water fills up and lands in front of us along with a bar of herbal handmade soap.


    "Ladies first, then the rest of you."


    Mutters Gable before going off to rummage in his cabinets.


    This isn''t any of the strange but lovely bath products Gable already has but something from a batch we made together one spare afternoon. He was curious after telling him of my previous soap making adventures. Guess it really isn''t common knowledge in this world.


    I got to test more soap recipes with local plants and according to Gable making my soaps was "much easier" then getting his hands on whatever he was previously using. They were nice though, must have been costly.


    Still I think my soap bars are turning out quite well as a cost effective alternative. This herbed one was simple to make, has antibacterial cleaning qualities and smells quite nice. I lather up and wash my hands well in the slightly warm water.


    Surprisingly the boys either learn quickly through my example or they both have experience using soap. It should be a luxury item not commonly seen or used by most people, yet they don''t look curious or intrigued by it at all. Instead they wash up not only their hands but thoroughly up their arms, necks and heads.


    Is standard soap another thing grampa already brought along to the troops? Do I not have a monopoly in this market? Oh where is that old gramps anyways?


    "Gable, where did my grampa go? He''s been with you this whole time right?"


    "Yes, well, I made him go take a bath. He''s even filthier than all you children combined."


    "Ah I see.


    A little strange but whatever. Ah I almost forgot the reason why we came looking for them in the first place, sorry Yuna!


    "Gable! Outside there''s a strange venomous bug and it bit someone, just a kid or well teenager. No one knows what to do."


    "Hmm, yes I saw. I already sent some medicine their way, not much to do with that one really. The boy should be fine after a lot of sleep. "


    "You know what that thing was?" asked Amar, half soaked over the bin.


    Gable gives a half wave, indicating it''s still in research. Which is fair given no one''s ever heard of a fanged jawed butterfly, ever.


    Clean towels float over, one for each of us, though I think the boys'' towels have a mind of their own as they rub them dry all over.


    "Uh I think we''re good."


    "Hey! Get this thing to stop attacking already!"


    Eventually they''re freed from the floating towels and hair brushes, hey where did those come from?They''re as clean as they''ll get for now and actually look pretty decent. They were already some cute looking children but clean faces and freshly washed hair makes a lot of difference.


    Gone are the dusty though still very rambunctious boys. It''s like giving a street cat a bath, they''re so fluffy! Luka''s platinum blonde hair is looking more like the snow we just played with. Now clean his features resemble a haughty pedigree cat, sharp like a bengal. Meanwhile the contrast between Amar''s tender face, dark curls and bright green eyes were a pop of color compared to Luka''s paleness. When not caked in mud and dust his natural olive skin tone was hard to place, shades too something to be native to this land.


    Overall they clean up very nicely, I''m surprised.


    The bar soap wasn''t meant for hair but it did a pretty nice job lathering and washing on two different hair types.Potential for shampoo bars perhaps?


    While I''m thinking of my future business prospects the table sets itself and there are 3 steaming mugs, of something milky sweet, waiting for us. If I didn''t know any better I''d say Gable was showing off.


    Ok maybe he is doing that, just a bit. This honey milk is some good shit.


    He is using his levitation magic quite a bit more than usual. It''s very Alice in Wonderland tea party in here.They boys aren''t hiding their amazement either, though it''s more of the shocked sillyby power kind than their earlier ooo and awes.Setting some kitchen tools to chop and fry up some vegetable Gable takes a seat, chairs gathering up whoever wasn''t at the kitchen table yet.


    The boys are still awkwardly silent and Gable''s own stoicism is not helping. IT''s an adult and some kids but why is every eyeing each other back and forth?


    I take another loud sip of my warm drink, ah it''s so damn awkward. Just get on with it.


    "It smell wonderful in here! I''m starved- eh, when did these munchkins get here?"


    "Commander!"


    " Lord Commander?"


    "Hello to you too grampa."


    Cue the ice breaker, grampa stomps like he just came from a relaxing sauna and soak. His face is freshly shaved and skin all glowing, hey hey what products did you use?! Tell me, was it one of mine? Also why are you leisurely just taking a bath now of all times?


    "So mean Gable, I thought it was going to be just us- ooompf"


    A couple of towels smacks into gramp''s face and wipes him much more violently than it did Amar and Lukas earlier. Effectively shutting him up.


    I get that grampa is annoying and all but I really feel that I''m missing something here, hmmm. Gable gives a not so forced cough.


    "You''ve gathered some rather...talented disciples here Ronald."


    "Mmmppf hmmf?"


    The towels are still attacking so grampa settles for a shrug.


    "They''re not only skilled but quite mature for their age, in fact what are you doing taking in children so young hmm? Just where did you pick them up?"


    The towels may be suffocating him but before any of the boys can get a word out the quiche floats over and serves itself on separate plates. Vegetables fried with chopped ham pours on the sides straight from the frying pan and if the sight wasn''t enough of a distraction the smell definitely is. I hear someone else''s stomach growl.


    I''m feeling pretty ravenous and I actually had breakfast. I don''t know about the boys but from the look of things I doubt they''ve had much of a proper meal through their camping trip. 5 year olds should have chubbier cheeks no?


    Their eyes shine but they hold themselves back with extreme discipline, gazing back and forth between Gable and the grampa, who is still incapacitated.


    "Go ahead and enjoy, there''s plenty of food. We''re just going to have a quick word between adults."


    The moment Gable walks out, dragging grampa along with him, its a free for all. While Amar is a little bit better about table manners, they both wolf down their food. As concerned as they are for their ''Lord Commander'' it''s clearly out of their hands. It''s an ''adult'' matter, which means absolutely nothing to us.


    "It''s so good, do you eat like this everyday?!" Lukas chokes out between bites, absolute stars in his eyes.


    "Something like that, this quiche is just something we''re just testing out. Gable lives by himself so he''s a pretty good cook. "


    Hmmm these vegetable are a fried with something fatty. Not very healthy but oh so tasty. This growing body can afford the fat and calories.


    "Qu-iche? The egg pie thing, I''ve never seen such a pastry?" exclaims Amar, plate clean until a another slice of quiche floats by and plops itself down. A pitcher of that hot milk thing refills my mug. Damn how does this levitation magic thing work and how do I get some?


    The rest of the meal passes by an comfortable chatter, the boys relaxing back to their usual state around good food and the knowledge that their companion outside is relatively ok.


    The plain rock still sits on the counter, undisturbed but for a faint icy blue glow on the bottom.


    ----


    In another room but a few feet away from a certain band of children, it is silent. Even without the muffling spell that protects this space there is a tense silence, the quiet after a disaster, of grieving. Though the room is not very large there is no need for two grown men to be crowded in the corner.


    Gable puts face in his hands, tightly grasped and shakily slides down the wall. As if his long legs can no longer support him.


    Ronald goes with him, steady and supportive. There''s a part of him that wants to pry Gable''s hands out of his face, another part that wants to keep apologizing till he makes it all better, even though that won''t help. He knows better but he can''t help feeling that he has to do something,even after all these years.


    Really, he can only wait it out. Wait with baited breath, steady and strong as ever. That''s all he can do.


    The mood has is vastly different that any of their earlier interactions on this day.


    "So will you take him?


    Ronald breathes, eyes pleading even though he knows the other can''t see him. Not with closed fists and teary eyes. Gable fails to hold back a sob and half chokes on it.


    "I can''t, god Ronald you know I can''t. I''m not- I can''t face- I''m not strong enough."


    Battered hands come up to rest and cover on Gable''s own hands, he can feel their heat radiating.


    "I know you and I know you''re more than strong enough. But you don''t have to if you don''t want to."


    "That''s not fucking fair Ronald."


    "I know."


    It''s never fair, goes unspoken. For awhile there''s nothing but heavy breathing on one side and silent support on the other.


    "They won''t kill him."


    Gable finally manages, his voice hoarse, wavering.


    "No...not anymore at least. They were going to."


    "No, my sister wouldn''t have let them."


    "Only because she''ll damn him to a fate worse than death, her and her husband."


    Gable finally looks up out of his hands, eyes red and emotions fully on his face. He gnaws on his lip, an old nervous habit, and looks the broader man in the eye, despite the little tremors running through his body.


    "I can''t do this, I''m not you."


    Ronald shakes his head, softly breaking into a full blown smile, just because he can''t do small ones. He''s all or nothing in more than one way and Gable feels himself caving to this man. Like he''s caved time and time again no matter how much his pride says otherwise.


    "Hey...that''s a good thing you know."


    "...I can''t....I can''t save people like you do. I can''t, especially not him. I can''t even save myself."


    "Bullshit. I never saved anyone, not really. I can stop the jaws of a beast or liberate a city under seige but saving someone? What does that even mean? What comes afterwards is more important, the recovery. "


    "Ronald."


    "If we''re talking about saving then you''re stronger, you saved me."


    "I can''t Ronald, I can''t even look at him without seeing-god what does it matter. If they find us, find him, it will be even worse. I would make things worse. "


    "They won''t Gable, I promise they won''t."


    "You''re already too close, what are you thinking? Why tie your Rosalia up in all this when you know what they are.Why put us back in this? I can''t never tell what you''re really thinking."


    Gable finally relaxes from his ball, hands and body going limp. Like this Ronald can intertwine their fingers, the gesture familiar and comforting.


    "That''s the problem my prince, you think too much when I don''t."


    "Stop calling me that alread."


    "But my prince, I swore a vow!"


    "Stop, I''m disgusted already, god you''re not even a knight."


    Gable pulls his hand away sharply, purposefully smacking a laughing Ronald in the process. But he soon returns them, softer this time.


    "...I''ll think about it. Give me a little more time."


    "I knew you could do it."


    "I didn''t say yes!"


    "You can do it, we both can. I watch your back you watch mine, just like always."


    "....Sap."


    "Hey Gable....it''s good that he still has you as family. He thinks he''s all alone out there."


    "I doubt it, I''ll be the shittiest uncle in the world. "


    "Maybe but he''ll love you, we all do. Don''t worry Gable, Lukas will just love you."


    -----

 43 Oblivious

    As Gable explains the property of his rock, the three of us children circled around him in the library, I feel like face palming myself.


    Well that was obvious, certain materials have the potential to store magic so that even common non magical people can use them. They can be used form a power generator to a game like amulet for defense.


    Smaller stones and gems are quite popular among merchants and nobility, ranging from a reasonable to absurd price depending on the quality and duration of magic charged.Being a very wealthy but non magically inclined person, Rosalia purchased many of these items in the last life.


    But of course they''re just tools and need to be paired smartly for to be of use. They''re also not infallible despite being ''magic''. The majority of popular stones around noble circles were more for show than anything, flashy displays of play magic.Great for impressing the masses but not much use practically.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Armor and defense stones, as useful as they are, could only last so long, just like regular armor.


    Against brute force and sharp enhanced weaponry even those will wear away if attacked enough. I wonder how many times I was stabbed at my death? I lost count about after 30 something, including the sword wounds.


    I could have had a much quicker death if I didn''t wear any amulets but hey they definitely did the job in upping my ''defense''.


    Back on the matter of stones, I just never saw one of that size, nor looking so crude. Usually they''re small polished gems to be inlaid into wearable jewelry. How much would something that large cost?


    Something of that scale would be great for household or structure uses. It could even replicate modern electricity and convenient tools. Something also tells me grampa has a good amount used to upkeep his technically advanced camps.


    Gable says he uses this particular one to keep his ''ice house'' and forest cool to the proper temperature for those plants to survive. Makes sense.


    He probably also has plenty of those in stock, for research purposes. Once in awhile, depending on his travels, he needs to get certain stones recharged. They can be naturally recharged if left in the correct element for a long enough amount of time, in a area of high mangical mana concentration, or manually recharged by a compatible magic user.


    Lo and behold guess who is a compatible ice user here?


    Sometimes answers are just obvious. Too obvious.


    Why the hell didn''t we figure out Lukas was essentially a baby Jack Frost earlier?


    Snowy hair, pale skin, too monstrously strong to be a normal child. Of course he''s one of the minority of magic users in this world, of course it was be related to ice and snow. It''s so obvious it might as well be on a color coded children''s show. How did I not notice something so obvious?


    To be fair the boy had no idea he possessed the gift either. Right now he''s bouncing up in down and absolute abandon.


    "This is going to be so damn awesome!"


    "Language" chided Gable immediately.


    Which is absolutely rich coming from Gable. He really does try around me but his natural state is rather colorful language. I repeatedly tell him it''s alright and how I''m mentally very much an adult but that just gets me that tired look you give kids when they say they''re grown.


    Reincarnation or not I feel as if Gable really does see me on the same level as an actual child, not much better than the kids here. At most it''s like I''m the big kid who can be trusted to watch over the younger ones.


    In the not so distant background grampa is an annoyingly comfortable picture in his handmade sweater and fuzzy socks. Grease and leftover quiche crumbs cover his face as he loudly munches his food. He should look nothing like the intimidating ''Lord commander'' and hero figure that he is but the boys seem used to such sights. Their guard is much more relaxed with him in the room.


    "Hey hey I get a promotion raise now right? Do I get to go out on more raids? Oh oh oh do I get a magic weapon?! What about a-"


    "How about you slow down a bit and learn a little more about what your magic entails first."


    "That will be fine, I''ll get it in no time."


    Boasted Lukas, his excitement overflowing. I''ve grown to figure out he''s somewhat of a naturally arrogant child but with the actual ability to back it up. In this case I don''t blame him for his over excitement, discovering a gift is not only a great honor in this world but it''s essentially a winning lottery ticket in life.


    To anyone striving to be a hero or powerful name, a magical gift is the best shortcut.


    Gable''s lip twitches up at that, it''s an almost fond look. But he schools himself to an expression that I know he makes when he''s not really annoyed. It''s a face I often see when he''s talking about grampa.


    "We''ll see about that kid. How about you try using your powers without the aid of this stone here."


    "Eh I said I''ll get it, not that I know how to right now."


    He makes a casual shrug, hands high in the air and waves them around with nothing happening. Right, ice powers, no idea how to use them. No shame,very epic. But Amar, ever the cheerleader is here to support, kind of.


    "It''s amazing Lukas, ahhh how nice, I want a gift too."


    "Same here." I can''t help but relate.


    "Magic is already rare but ice? How many people can do that?Isn''t that too nice?"


    "It''s not fair."


    "Guys you''re supposed to praise me, not be crying like babies!"


    Watching this face is really too hateful., it makes onlookers feel like complaining even more. What more praise do you need? You won the lottery, you got magic! My fellow ungifted comrade vocalizes what I''m feeling and lets out frustrated cry.


    "Ah it''s really not fair!"


    "Right?! Such a nice power. Why him?


    "He''s a sword wielder too, what good is snow powers? Do you make ice swords with that?"


    "And he gets super mad so easily, isn''t ice supposed to keep cool?


    "Oh you''re right, when he gets mad wouldn''t the ice just melt? What if it''s a hot climate place? Can he use water?"


    "I don''t know if it works like that."


    "Yeah I don''t see it.


    "What a waste."


    "Oi! Why are you two ganging up on me!?!"


    Team no magic here. earlier Amar and I had taken huddling away from a certain someone''s hyperactive victory dance. We''re bonding over our depression and disappointment in this life. Lukas can afford to take this much teasing. We need to vent our complaints here.We want to be cool magic wielders too!


    "Don''t worry, magic isn''t everything. There''s lots of people with powers who are still weaklings! Absolutely useless!"


    Grampa pats the both of us on the head with his version of comforting. Great job gramps, now we feel even worse. Us normal people are even below these useless magic users.


    I''m happy for Lukas and all and I''m sure Amar is even more excited for him but childish envy is definitely running through us right now. Instead of pats I''d rather have magic and cheat powers. Even if it''s a minor ability, it''s better than having nothing. Please oh great gods or goddesses of this world, pretty please.


    "Heh, useless huh? Not me, I''ll show everyone, I''m going to master this ice and be a better hero than you in no time flat!"


    Exclaimed Lukas, finger pointing straight to grampa in a overly dramatic pose. What an innocent child... watching Lukas just makes me even more depressed though, why him?


    "It''s not fair." sighs Amar once again.


    Grampa just keeps smiling encouragingly while patting our heads. So depressing, I can''t even put up a fight. Just comfort me more as I cry internally.


    "Don''t worry, magic or no magic your fate depends on yourself. Besides there''s plenty of time for you two to present."


    "That''s nice sir but how would we even know in the first place. You either have it or you don''t."


    "Right right!"


    I agree with my new brother in arms. Life either gives you nice cards or not. Sure there''s no real average age of magical presentation. Once in awhile an adult discovers their hidden talents and makes a turn for their lives. But what are the chances of us getting powers if we didn''t have them right from the start?


    I don''t know about Amar but I sure didn''t have anything last time around.


    "Just because you have''t figured it out yet doesn''t mean it''s not there." says grampa a little teasingly. His warm palm feels nice ruffling through my now short hair.


    "Wait Lord commander, I''m the one that presented. I want a pat on the head too!" cries Lukas.


    Haha no, this is the consolation corner. You lost your whining privilege when you got powers.Go make some snowfall or something,


    "Ahem"


    With a clap of his hands and a cough,Gable silences the room. There may be magic involved or we just all see him as the pack leader of the room....Both , it''s probably both.


    "In all seriousness,as a potential elemental mage you do need to figure out and practice your gifts. It must not be revealed before you are prepared to defend yourself. At this time there are no ice users native to this continent- and no this is not necessarily a good thing. You must be very carefull about who knows. "


    The mood dampers a bit, while Lukas is still very excited he''s not an unintelligent child. I don''t know everyone''s backstories but it''s enough that everyone all understands, when you have something of worth there are always others who will want to benefit. And they don''t always have your best interest in mind.


    "Yeah yeah I get it, the world isn''t ready for my awesomeness yet! Not like I know many people to tell anyways. "


    Behind his bravado, Lukas rightfully sounds a little bit shaken. Amar pats his shoulder in a show of support and I nod along. As cool as magic is, too good of a thing does mean trouble.


    "I suppose that''s one way of looking at it. But you should be safe in the current troop placement." says Gable, with grampa confirming.


    "Right, the camp is a good place as any for a baby presenting mage. It probably should stay under wraps for a while, your practice would have to be kept secret, Ah but what a shame we don''t an elemental ice master to help guide you."


    "Of course I am! It''s ok I''ll learn it anyways"


    "That makes sense, Lukas you really can''t go blabbing."


    "I won''t!"


    The boys nod in agreement like good little students. They''re even more obedient in front of grampa, hanging on to his every word even when they''re talking among themselves. They''re so soft, fluffy and sparkly eyed around him, it makes them look even more like needy little kittens.


    They''re so deceptively cute!


    "Really what a shame, if only we had a specialized mage around to guide you."


    Grampa whines quite exaggeratedly, take a hold of the boys as if they really were small animals. Does he do this to every kid? This really isn''t how you hold small humans!


    With those gross puppy dog eyes he turns to Gable, lifting a gleeful Lukas up.


    "With no ice masters around, if only we had another master. Someone really smart with lots of research. Someone super smart and experienced with even more Northern styles of magic. If only we had a a-"


    "Ronald. Shut up."


    "Shutting up!"


    But he pulls an even more intense puppy eye, holding up the boy.


    Oh that''s his plan! By this point we all catch on, Amar exchanging excited looks with Lukas. It would be another whole lottery winning chance to study under the mage Gable. I lucked out in the time I''ve spent here. Being around Gable was like being a human sponge, even without being a disciple you just learn stuff around him.


    It does make sense though, even if there are no know ice users on this continent the North is more familiar with such styles of magic. Since Gable is a pure northerner from the royal line, he must know many helpful things in regards to this. I wouldn''t put it past Gable if he even knew ice masters from the polar isles.


    Does that mean Lukas gets to live with Gable for awhile? Really no fair, I want this spot!


    The boys know it''s not their place to speak but there''s an anxiousness in their faces. Whatever cold front Gable puts up it''s hard to not be moved by such pitiful little faces. I am even more convinced in the power of cuteness.


    *sigh*"We''ll talk about this at a later time, it''s getting late Ronald, you need to at least go update your people."


    "Aww Gable are you''re kicking us out already?"


    "....Just go. A few of your troop members outside are already lost and another couple are hunting something they shouldn''t,for their safety not the beasts. "


    "Aww fine, I''m going."


    My grampa makes a show to slowly dragging himself up, like a child being told to do chores. The real problem is that on the way he gathers all three of us in his arms. He carries us off as if he really was a child and we were the stuffed toys to be put away.


    There''s plenty of space given that we''re all so small but this is really not the way to hold children! What makes it even worse is that I''m squished in the middle. Get me out!


    "Drop the kids"


    "Oh?"


    "Just leave them. It''s safer if they stay here for the night."


    Oddly Grampa has no smart retort back. Instead he raises an eyebrow, grin wide and a little maniacal. Is this another inside joke?


    There''s no time to consider it further since a certain someone quite literally dropped me, dropped all of us.


    Ack! Oww , ok definitely still in the middle. I am not a fan of all these Rosalia sandwiches!


    Before I can untangle myself from too many little legs and Amar''s elbow, Gable rights us all up with his levitation.


    The front door slams from hallways away and I assume grampa has been just as magiced, but away.


    "Alright then, time to get ready for bed you lot."


    Even without grampa around the boys have relaxed around Gable considerably compared to earlier.


    "But it''s too early to go to sleep yet."


    "Yeah!"


    "....what times do you two usually sleep."


    "When we get sleepy."


    Looking at these tomcat children Gable just shakes his head and mutters something under his breath. I think I heard Grampa''s name being cursed in regards to bad parenting.


    "Alright, bath time it is then. Try not to break anything."


    In snap they''re swept away down the stairs to where I know the nice bathroom is, towels flying after them.


    That must be how Gable booted grampa.


    I dust myself off and take a seat among the cushions, pulling out my little craft basket. A half complete knitting project sticks out from it.


    "It''s almost time for me to head back home right? Can I keep some of the clothes we''ve made?"


    "Of course , I don''t see much use keeping that size for myself."


    Gable takes a seat in his arm chair, looking tall and elegant as ever, especially from my height. Personally I''m going to miss this, Gable''s is my safe place. Both the hobbit house and the man himself. But I knew I couldn''t really stay here forever. I have things to do back home, money to make and engagements to break.


    It''s a different story for another magically inclined kid.


    "Are you going to accept Lukas as a disciple? He''s really just so lucky. "


    Both the magic and the staying with Gable part. The man in question stares off into the distance beforecarefully regarding me, speaking up.


    "Rosa, I have something you ask you."


    "Hmm what is it?"


    "Rosalia...what do you think about that child?."


    "Lukas? He talks too much."


    Gable gives me a hint of a laughing snort at that.


    "How charming."


    "No really, he''s loud and always talking or bragging...but he''s a pretty good kid. I just think he feels really lonely a lot. Like he has to fill in the silence, even if it''s just with his own voice."


    I''m not a real child but being a being in-between. with an adult brain but a child''s life experiences, this sort of thing was just obvious to me. A mysterious smile makes it way across Gable''s face. Wah too handsome! This is bad for my heart.


    "Funny, your little friend said the same thing."


    "Huh?"


    Sorry what did you say? I was busy trying to reboot my brain.


    "Amar, he also said that Lukas was a very lonely person. That he hates being lonely and is always trying to get attention from others, even if it means getting into trouble. "


    "Huh, when did you talk to Amar?"


    I nod in understanding. That''s not too different from Rosalia''s own background. Even if it means being hated, isn''t that better than being ignored, as if you don''t exist? What a strange child, what sort of life must one have had to become this way so young?


    An itch called curiosity makes it way to the forefront of my mind. A memory of something I shouldn''t have heard not so long ago plays. That awkward talk between Lukas and Amar in the woods that day, the strange attachment he has to the stupid prince, it''s all butpushpin points on a map too broad to connect.


    "Gable...I don''t want to pry but...why are you asking so much about him?"


    Sometimes silence itself in an answer. He doesn''t stop or scold me from my possibly intrusive question. He doesn''t doubt my intelligence either. I can piece something together but it doesn''t make sense, at least not yet.


    "Lukas is stupid sometimes. He''s awfully strange around that fiancee of mine...I don''t like the stupid prince very much but he''s your nephew right? The northern queen is your younger sister, at least according to genology records."


    "You''re a smart girl Rosalia."


    "At first I thought he was another climber, trying to get close to someone powerful.But he''s....he''s too nice. He''s nice and he''s happy and it''s...it''s going to hurt him right? Amar said it''s going to hurt him and he''s right isn''t he?"


    "You''re both smart."


    Lukas is a rather pretty child, I now notice. After a proper wash anyone can see he''s a very pretty child with a tall straight nose and gray blue eyes, not too dissimilar to Gable''s own looks . Sometimes his haughty face annoys me irrationally, bits and pieces or it irks me in a way that I finally realize reminds me of a certain stupid prince.


    But that''s ridiculous, the king and queen only ever had one child. They''ve tried for years and only ever had one heir. Everyone knows that.


    Besides Lukas is too different from the stupid prince, he looks nothing like him! Nothing like the...he looks nothing like the king....oh.


    "Have you figured it out Rosalia."


    Not a question.


    This is the truth that everyone in the room but me has already known isn''t it? The implications of everything, the theories running through my mind has me shocked silly and it must show on my face.


    "He''s....he''s related to you isn''t he? He''s...he''s your nephew, the son of the Queen."


    His silence can''t confirm or deny anything but the way he looks at me says it all. It''s not enough of a confirmation, but the truth is too much.


    "He''s the son of the queen....but not the king. He can''t see the stupid prince, he can''t see his own family, he''s off on his own like this....he''s an illegitimate child."


    A tear runs down my check before I can even register it.


    I''m crying? Why am I crying? Why is my heart hurting? I''m not even that close with the kid why am I suddenly feeling so much? Everyone has a sob story, why is this one just so sad to me? Is it because I''m also an unwanted child?


    I just hit myself in the vitals with my own answer.


    It''s just so sad, it hits too close to home. Suddenly I get it, I think I really get it. I understand how a child can be so loud and boisterous to fill up a void. I understand his awkward position is society, how hard it must be to move around, neither forward nor backwards. How he could end up my cousin''s future lackey in the search to find his place.


    Because this boy desperately needs friends, a family.


    What about Amar? Where was Amar in the future? I didn''t see him. I never met the man that boy was supposed to grow into. Did he die? Part ways? He''s the only sincere friend I see Lukas have and he''s not even in the future picture.


    I''m full out sobbing now.


    What is to become of them?


    It''s not just sympathy, kids that come to grampa at this age aren''t normal. If they''re not a noble with some amazing connections and people looking after them, they wouldn''t be out fighting monster raids for experience or whatever. These aren''t kids with safe happy homes to go back to, I knew that from the beginning. It''s empathy I''m feeling, selfish empathy.


    They''re just like me.


    Gable doesn''t stop or comfort me, in fact he looks more like he wants to cry himself. I can tell not from his poker face but just from the way he feels. This is personal, it must be affecting him so much more deeply.


    "I haven''t seen my sister in years."


    He looks back into the air, lost in his own thoughts, or is it memories?


    "Not since before she married him. I never met either of my nephews, not till today. "


    "....Did you know? That he existed?"


    "It would be a lie to say I didn''t, I have no excuses. "


    It''s complicated he means. It''s a very sad sort of smile on Gable''s face right now. As poetically beautiful as it is, I don''t like it. I don''t like him making that sort of broken face.


    " I won''t tell him yet, but in the future, if Lukas wishes for it...I''ll adopt him."


    I gasp


    "Rosalia my little friend...I''m going to try and be brave again.You helped me make this decision you know. Helped me be brave. I''m going to face my family and past starting with the now. "


    I don''t know what''s going on, don''t know the full backstory,but I understand. In a flash I run up and bury myself in Gable''s lap, squeezing as big of a hug as I can give with my entire body. It''s not very big and what I feel is too much.


    I understand, and I support Gable completely.


    When he hugs back I think I can hear another meaning implied. It sounds a little bit like he hopes that I can do the same.


    ---

 44 Wesre home? Already?

    It is something AM in the morning. I don''t even know what time it is but it''s a ridiculous hour to be awake.


    Apparently it''s an emergency. Enough for grampa to be dragging me home ASAP at this unholy hour but not enough to truly panic nor force me awake. This little of body of mine needs alot of sleep, just as much as any growing toddler.


    I find myself zoneing in and out, mostly asleep as I get lugged around since I was carried out of bed. Bed being the nest I''ve since gathered and grown from the initial sleeping quarters Gable set up for me.


    By the way said room has since been invaded as of the other night. Oviously my sleeping space is the best, full of pillows and blankets. Gable didn''t even have time to set up sleeping cots for those two kids before they saw my nest and jumped in. Of course I wouldn''t give it up that easily. Somehow it ended up in a sleepover arrangement.


    That''s not really an issue with me. Not only am I modern person with sensibilities from another century, I''mjust a small child. Sharing a room is no big deal either way.Isn''t it only nobles with too much free time that get their panties in a bunch over this kind of stuff?


    At the time Gable gave me a gesture that seem to say, ''Good Enough'' , before retiring for the night. Though we both know he actually went out to see grampa and the rest of the troops. Maybe go check up on Yuna, I never did find out what kind of effect that butterfly bite was. Hope the kid''s okay. .


    I can hear Lukas occasionally snoring, he''s even harder to wake up then myself. Ah then the little hand leading me around must be Amar. What a reliable kid despite being sleepy too. Do we really have to move? Can''t Gable just float us around?


    "Sorry little ones, you can all go back to sleep in a bit. Grab everything you need and meet in the kitchen."


    I''ll take that as a no on the floating thing. On the way out he personally slaps Lukas further awake, gently of course. Definitely Amar doing to dragging then. he somehow shuffles the both of us to the washroom to freshen up.


    I''m going to miss magic pluming.


    The boys weren''t carrying much stuff originally. Just the clothes on their backs and a small enchanted nap sack. In fact they''re leaving with a whole new set of casual clothes.


    Gable was disgusted over the fact that neither boy has pajamas or something else to wear besides their outdoor gear and armor. I''m not sure how but he got even faster at clothes making.


    It may also be my fault for getting him hooked modern crochet patterns and such. But hey, a wool sweaters for everyone is not the worse thing that could happen. Great time to play around with up cycling scraps. YesterdayGable was having another, though not very visible, panic over Lukas.


    "I have to get a whole wardrobe for him...he''s not gonna survive winter in those shoes.....does he even have another pair of socks...."


    All that and more were muttered during our crafting time yesterday. While there''s plenty more things to be done in prepping the troops for the trip back, without enough of his introverted homebody time Gable would get very very irritated.


    Let''s avoid that disaster.


    Besides, crafting is very stress relieving and Gable seems to need as much of that as he can get. At least it was a very productive time. The boys were extremely happy to receive the sweaters and soft pajama bottoms. And yes, they got crochet socks too.


    At first they were confused, as if the concept of gifts were an alien thing. Once they figured it out though they lit up like Christmas trees.


    To be fair it''s not as if they''re mistreated in the camps. It''s just not very child oriented. Amar has too many hand me down knives and Lukas does have spare socks, he just either loses or ruins them easily. They don''t own very many comfort items, luxurious like pjs made for them are entirely a new experience.


    What sob stories.


    You wouldn''t be able to tell looking at the shuffling sleepy messes they are now. Even with new clothes, no one is carrying much, especially me with my space cheating bag. So we each grab a


    pillow and drag along a blanket or two...or three. Upon arrival to the kitchen we promptly fall back asleep at the table.


    I suppose I could wake up if needed but I don''t need to right? Just a few more minutes.


    Gable appears out of nowhere again, this time with pot of porridge and prods us to eat. By ''he'' I mean the floating bowls and spoons, self scooping fruit and something sweet into our portions. I still don''t know what time it is but the sweet smell rouses me enough to sleepily munch.


    One bowl is enough for me but the bowls says otherwise, seemingly refiling itself.


    "I''m full"


    I mumble, pushing away the bowl to Amar, who finishes it easily with barely a blink. Which isn''t actually that fast seeing how his eyes aren''t even open. Lukas on the other hand looks to be face first drowning in his own bowl. Is he sleep eating? It''s too early for this.


    "Wakey wakey! Are we all up and ready!?"


    Hearing no responses besides our sleepy groans, grampa scoops us all up , blankets and all and runs up the stairs. The little bits of skylight show no light at all, not even twilight.


    It''s way to early for this.


    "Set them in the circle lines, it will be done in a bit." I can hear Gable saying.


    Before I notice it I''m on the ground again, gentler than the previous times grampa straight out just dropped me. Well it doesn''t matter because if no one needs me I''ll be snuggling back to sleep, surrounded by blankets and warmth.


    ------


    "My Lord! The Lord Commander has returned!"


    "Father you''re back , thank heavens. Where is Rosalia?And sir Gable? Pardon, my rudeness, welcome to our humble home."


    Huh? When did I get back to the mansion? Is this a dream?


    The dream servants are all rushing up to stand in procession in front of grampa and Gable. Dream father is gliding down the stairs, looking very regal and very tired all at once.


    Where am I in this dream? On the floor in a blanket pile right? Yes this is much more comfortable spot to be, even though Lukas does snore a bit. It''s very soft and warm, I''m just going, *yawn* sleep a little bit more.


    "But father, where is my daughter? I thought for sure she was with you....what is that?"


    Halfway into dreamland again my outer blanket was cruelly ripped from me, exposing to me to lamp lights and the harsh waking world. This disruption does not bother Lukas at all, the boy dead to the world snoring but Amar being directly underneath me in the blanket pile jolts half awake.


    In the next moment I''m lifted into the air, but the familiar clean scent of bergamot and gunpowder surrounds me and I relax.


    "Father, what have you done to my child?"


    "Eh? I didn''t do anything."


    Making myself comfortable again, I can feel fathers long fingers inspecting my cropped hair, ghosting over any scrapes and bruises that haven''t healed fast enough.


    It''s fine, kids get roughed up all the time. Don''t worry so much, this is normal you know. Also stop poking that bruise on my shoulder, it''s still fresh from some stray elbows.


    "How is she right now?" asks Gable.


    Father let''s out a sigh, readjusting me in his arms. It doesn''t sound very good.


    "It''s not life threatening they say but it''s getting pretty bad to be honest. The fever just won''t subside and it''s been going on for so long. Thank goodness you''re here.Come, Maria is with her right now."


    That definitely doesn''t sound good. My thoughts can only go to one thing.


    Is it Lilyanne again?


    She must have gotten sick again. I have been actively trying to ensure she''s a healthier child than she was last time around but I''m no miracle worker. Her childhood illnesses is what it is with her weaker constitution. I''m honestly surprised she hasn''t gotten any serious fevers or such thus far.


    She must have taken a turn for the worst if we''re suddenly here. I assume Grampa finally got his mail had Gable magic us here. Can he do that? I have no idea but I don''t doubt it. In the past grampa has strange means of getting form place to place.


    Wait why did Gable come with us? He never came to see Lilyanne before last time around.


    "Down the hall and through here, they''re in Maria''s room. "


    "Ronald, hold the boys,keep the kids out here while I examine her. I repeat keep all the kids out here."


    "Mmm I know, I trust you ."


    "No guarantees."


    "Nothing ever is but for you, I''ll take my chances."


    "You''re a terrible gambler."


    Why does it feel like these two are flirting? Grampa I get but Gable? They''re giving me idiotic couple feels...It really is too early for this.


    "So then , where do you disappear off with my daughter for all these week hmm?"


    "I''m going to get these boys settled! Off I go now!"


    How very smooth of you grampa. I sleepily wave them off as he makes his escape.See you later guys.


    Then it''s just father and I in the hall. He looks down at me warily, expression crossed between relieved and uncomfortable. His hold isn''t painful or anything but his stare is.


    "Good morning?"


    "You''re far too young to be gallivanting with boys."


    "...I''m what?"


    "Far too young. Not till your debut at the very least and even them you''re too young. Rosalia do you understand?"


    "Huh?"


    Is father accusing little ol me of seduction already?! I''m two!What is this?


    "I''d ask about your time out but you look to be in fine health, snuggling with strange boys. Which one of them was it? Or did they both cut your hair, damn brats. Rosalia I''m telling you this now that if a boy pulls your pigtails it''s because all males are terrible beasts with impure intentions and you should keep far far away."


    "Father I really don''t think this is necessary. And I like my hair, though it was an accident"


    "Don''t ever trust when a boy says it was an accident. Remember besides your grandfather and I, you are not to trust any nasty boys."


    I''m getting the shovel talk already? I''m two! To which I have to repeat out loud.


    "I''m two!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    He gives me a look that says it doesn''t matter and I''m dumbstruck. I really don''t know how to make it more obvious that this isn''t an issue. Besides friendships and relations between genders aren''t necessarily inappropriate. Isn''t father just being absolutely sexist and ridiculous right now?


    "I''m engaged to a boy you know? The one you set up. "


    "One that is no threat, thanks to the Goddess. No, I shall not have you frolicking with beaus till you''re well into adulthood, even then there will be no ''frolicking'' nonsense. Understand?"


    "But-"


    "I really didn''t think this would be an issue yet, they really do grow up so fast."


    "It''s nothing like that! Besides I''m engaged, worry about Lillyanne!"


    Father''s handsome face seems to be going through a stroke as he considers the very feasible idea. Really I''m not an issue at all,Lilyanne''s the one with the insane amount of admirers and suitors in the future. We''ll be having the entire household staff beat them off with brooms.


    I personally vote that we replace the brooms with swords for better effectiveness. Or at least enchant to brooms for more attacking power. Perhaps some of those semi-automatic crossbows? I''m sure grandpa could spare some to help preserve his precious granddaughter''s peace and honor.


    "About Lilyanne, Rosalia your sister ..has always been weaker. So it''s been..."


    "Don''t worry father, I know she''s sick again. Lilyanne will be fine."


    She always is, despite all the scares in the last life she always made it. Weak but she survived. The dark circles under his eyes and the haggardness that dampens his usual granduer must be from caring for Lilyanne and mother. In the past if Lilyanne got sick then so would mother, more from over worrying than anything. That would then in turn affect father and then the whole household would be in hysterics.


    How troublesome, I recall the times where the staff even forgot to feed me during those spells. Just because one twin is sick doesn''t mean you should starve the other to that point.


    Well that shouldn''t be an issue in this life, I wonder if George''s acne improved. Did the kitchens figure out the crab recipes without me to boss them around? Did they test the soap yet, did those even make it back safely? What about our research status on pizza dough and finding the right yeast? I have so much to do and so much to show everyone!


    The door creaks open and Gable leads a wobbly mother by the hand. She looks absolutely awful, even worse than the week after giving birth, She''s lost so much weight even her bountiful bosom looks underwhelming! This is not the blushing Maria Ventrella, a beauty and socialite in her prime.


    "Rosalia, is that you?"


    I should be asking you that mother!


    "I found her barefoot and ill alone in the woods, she must have been out there for days. You''ve raised such a strong little survivor Maria."


    "Rosa?"


    Mother all but leans on father for support, touching me all over. Her eyes and hands inspecting me in a manner much more frantic than father''s earlier check up. She grips my hair so hard, too close to the scalp, that it actually hurts quite a lot.


    "What did you say?"


    Father''s hold on me tightens even as he supports mother with one arm.


    "Oh Gable I ddn''t know. . Rosa honey, mama and papa are so so sorry. WE should have watched over you better, shouldn''t have let papa take you off just like that."


    Huh, when did this get to me? Shouldn''t we be focused on still sick Lilyanne here? Where did this all come from? I look over to Gable with confusion, what is he playing at here?


    "You two are still so young, but you''re parents now. Your child''s first line of support and defense is you. Maria you know best how your papa gets, how much he forgets. Rosalia is not Ronald, she doesn''t have his constitution nor his gifts, she doesn''t even have yours. Don''t put her through that unreasonable pressure. "


    Mother doesn''t even bother hiding her sobs, emotional as ever. It''s just...never been directed towards me? I don''t know what to make of the situation.


    "You''re doing so well Buttercup, you''re leaning."


    "Thank you Gable, my dear kind Gable you''re always too good to me."


    "Maybe I have spoiled you a tad too much when you were growing up." Gable teased, no bite to his words at all.


    "Thank you, thank you for watching over my Rosa."


    He wipes away the tears on her red face with a familiarity that must go very far. It''s too tender of a scene, what a dangerously good looking man. Father you need to be more careful, you won''t be able to win against such a rival! I mean Gable would never but I am just stating the obvious here.


    Instead father doesn''t mind it at all and thanks Gable graciously for ''saving'' me. Sounds a little too dramatic, it was just a few days sleeping in trees and a cold. I''m very glad Gable found me when he did but I probably would have still gotten by.


    "I really am fine though, we should get back to Lilyanne."


    Gable gives me the usual pat on the head and that mysterious smile as always. Ah , he really means it when he wants me to ''try'' to ''face'' my family. I don''t get what that entrails though. Oh well, we''ll just have to see day by day.


    "For Lilyanne...I think i may have figured out the source of her fever."


    "Dear Gable! Are you serious?"


    "Is that really true? Is there a cure for her?"


    Oh thank god, it feels really too uncomfortable having so much of the attention on me. This is more back to normal. Gable really is amazing though to have diagnosed Lilyanne''s mysterious illness. He''s not even a doctor, well not in the traditional sense, he''s much better.


    "I have to say that no, there''s no cure for what she has."


    Father''s face starts to fall before Gable continuous.


    "But there is a way to manage her condition and allow her to live like a normal child, least till she''s strong enough to control it herself. Rosalia, this is where we''ll need your help."


    Huh? Back to me again?


    ------

 45 Plusle & Minun

    I''m very used to this sight.


    The room is stale and far too warm as we walk in from the hallway.


    At side of mother''s bed is large bassinet, not dissimilar tolow crib. It reeks of medicinal herbs made stronger by the heat. It''s unnaturally warm but no windows are open for fear of a chill affecting the delicate little creature inside.


    It''s a pathetic sight. An infant girl lies there huffing and puffing through an uneasy sleep, red all over and very viably in pain. Occasionally she lets out a low squeak of pain or laborious breath.


    If I wasn''t used to such a sight from the last life I might honestly think she was actually dying.


    Poor Lilyanne, lying there in a fit of a fever. Even though she has a long line of servants to wait on her hand and foot, has mother''s and father''s never ending love, she can''t enjoy it through the fog of physical pain.


    Honestly because I''m so used to the sight, seeing it for years as Rosalia, it doesn''t affect me much. Sorry, does that make me a bad person? At most I feel sorry for her because of her age, it must hut a lot right?


    As a physically healthy person I can''t judge. As cursed as my fate is in this life, if there was one thing the Gods gave Rosalia it was a healthy body. This is the ironic trade off between us sisters and our lives.


    With a prompt order from mother the maids shuffle out in line, head bowed, not a single one out of place. Full obedience.


    Mother''s maids are really a different level.


    When they bow to my parents I realize that they don''t even knowledge Gable. I don''t think anyone besides my parents have...he must have made himself selectively invisible. Were the servants just watch my parent''s speak to thin air like crazy people this whole time?


    The door almost closes when it''s stopped by a familiar muscular frame. Grampa enters, alone this time with a nod towards Gable. He locks the door with a smack and it''s resonates around the room in a way that can''t be natural. Sparks of green lightening confirms that thought but Grampa stands by the door, steady as an imperial guard.


    "I need to be clear now, that everything you see and hear shortly will stay between us. It is of upmost importance that this stays quiet. For everyone''s safety, but especially the children. "


    Mother clenches even tighter against father''s side, near melting into him and where he hold me in the crook of his other arm. It''s too warm to be comfortable but they stay in this position even while vocally agreeing.


    "Yes of course, of course Gable. Papa."


    "I swear, anything for my family."


    "Hmm"


    Gable stares past us and I know it''s grampa staring back. It''s as if they''re conversing without any words, a language of their own, and it''s honestly very unnerving. As if this awkward tension wasn''t bad enough.


    "I must ask you all again, does this happen often and had the child''s symptoms ever been so severe?"


    "Yes! My Lilyanne has always been weak since birth! We were warned from the start that she might not make it long, I fear for her each day that passes."


    Father both hushes and comforts mother at once, shushing her back to some semblance of sanity before taking over. I can feel myself rock in tandem with his soothing gestures.


    "Indeed the clergy invited from the church warned of of such things, but I saw no real reason to fear. Not after the first few days that is. Lilyanne does indeed prone to bouts and sickness but no more serious than many children."


    "Dear how could you say that?!"


    "Ssshhh Maria, I must speak as I see it. Lilyanne is small but no smaller than the average child her age. She''s weak but not in a life threatening manner like we so feared at first. Certainly in comparison to Rosalia she seems overly sickly, but to another child? It''s not uncommon."


    What a surprise! I had no idea father analyzed to this point. Though he''s not as viably emotional or fussy as mother I always thought they were more along the same mindset.


    Did he think this way last time too?


    "What do you think Rosalia?" prompts Gable.


    He looks at me sincerely, speaking to me as respectful as any adult. Though he does treat me like a small child most of the time he''s never doubted my mind. Such a thing makes me oddly eager to please.


    But what to say? In the past life Lilyanne was always bursting in fevers and taking ill. If it was before I would certainly say so along the same lines as mother. But isn''t that just blindly repeating mother?


    But about the Lilyanne of the present?


    "I think.... I think Father''s right. Most of the time she gets sick she bounces right back! It''s never...serious. She''s always ok soon after a nap."


    This is not a exact repeat of the last life, I''ve been slow to realize that but I''m the one most making sure we''re not repeating things. She''s significantly healthier this time around. I''m not sure what''s really changed but something definitely did this time around.


    "Maria, you''re the most concerned one, is this true."


    "I...I suppose but, she''s always been so frail and gets ill so often. She should be burning up so much in the first place. "


    "And do you remember the bouts of illness you would get as a little girl? Does it feel familiar?"


    "I...I don''t recall so clearly...papa?"


    She turns as much as she can in father''s hold, a teary look back towards grampa standing tall at the door. He smiles at her tenderly, soft in the way I''ve seen him look at Lilyanne , the other Lilyanne.


    "You grew out of them love, as soon as you were old enough to hold a sword they stopped. Haha I admit that took a lot longer than the girls now."


    "Is that so Papa..."


    Gable interrupts again, temporarily clearing the strange mood mother is in.


    "Rosalia, it''s been a long time since you last seen each other, would you like to sit and comfort your sister?"


    It''s phrased as a question but I get the feeling it''s not, especially since Gable''s already outstretched his hands to take me from my father. He''s also sharply suspicious, still to save the mood I nod and comply.


    "But am I allowed to?"


    I recall how they isolated us back then. Lilyanne needed her space to rest and it would do no good for the both of us to be sick. I had so many lessons to attend to after all.


    "Yes, it''s not contagious. I''m sure of it." assured Gable.


    The heat radiating from Lilyanne is much more uncomfortable than being cradled like a baby into anyone''s arms. The sheets are a tad damp from her sweat and whatever fluids I don''t want to think about. I''m more than certain she cries in her sleep, which I know from experience of course.


    Her forehead is as hot as it looks, and her whimpering lulls at the touch of my hand. At the temperature she''s at it might as well be fresh snow, can we wet a cloth or something to cool her down?


    But father continuous with his observations before I can ask.


    "Typically her fevers, if it gets to that point. are short. Taking no more than a few hours and nothing but a full night of rest couldn''t solve. The longest she''s ever been continuously sick as been three days at most and that was only once before.While it hurts my heart as a parent to see her suffer contentiously, for this child to have a fever here and there is nothing new."


    "Darling...."


    "This...whatever she has now is actually serious. It''s been going on for over a week, far longer than usual. We don''t know how much further it can hold, it as if we''re back to when she was just born.I beg of you, whatever it is, if it can help our little girl please. Please let us try."


    "Over a week, would you say it began while you were traveling back?"


    "Yes, we rushed home as soon as possible using magical aids but she progressively got worse and worse over time. "


    "Oh we should have never taken that trip!not when she''s so small. I should have stayed and kept us behind, it''s all my fault"


    "Maria my love no, no it''s mine. I should have done better and gone alone. "


    "Of course not my darling Frederick, it''s me wo-"


    Blah Blah Blah there they go again.


    Oi stupid couple, we''re still here. Stop going off in your own world. Shut up and let Gable explain things already. Hey rather than say I was neglected because of the attention on Lilyanne, would it be safer to say they forgot about me due to each other?


    Father stupidly waits upon mother at all times , mother frets over Lilyanne, Lilyanne being near always sick and need fretting on,huh that all kind of makes sense.


    "That''s quite enough the both of you,! IT''s no one''s fault but Ronald."


    Huh.? What the hell?


    Well that shocked everyone silent, the world''s grossest couple included. Like a bad comedy all eyes goes to grampa, whoonly scratches his cheek in a way that says he''s not too bothered. Oi guilty party, what''s with this dragged out silence? We want some answers here!


    *sigh* "The clergymen weren''t wrong. it''s a miracle your youngest has survived. This much pure mana output would have killed a grown adult, magically enhanced or not,many times over. It''s too much, too concentrated for any one vessel let alone a newborn baby. Blame Ronald''s freakish genetics."


    Again, what?! What''s with this revelation?


    Except for Grampa and the unconscious Lilyanne, the Ventrella family must have the same empty shocked faces.


    "As a mere child, she''s nowhere near a large or strong enough vessel for the source of pure mana her body is creating. Being a pure non elemental type, she has no natural outlet for the mana, to escape nor can she control it yet, this causes it to pool and overflow, often resulting in fevers."


    "Such a thing,does this also explain my own childhood sickness?"


    "To some extent yes, it''s normal for blessed children struggle with controlling their gifts in the early years. Generally they either perish too soon or have a body capable of storing and using their gifts ,as you did when you started to grow up."


    Mother would have bitten through her lip had father not stopped her.


    "The power of the Dawn then." he whispers.


    "Her gift is too strong." Gable agrees, nodding solemnly.


    "But that''s not papa''s fault, it''s...this is too cruel. Oh the goddeess, this is too cruel." mother sobs.


    Tense moment but hey spoiler alert: Lilyanne lives.


    Girl gets her cake and gets to eat it too. She''ll live and grow up to be very blessed. Her excessive power pool is a good thing once she figures out how to use it. I don''t see how cruel the Goddess supposedly is towards Lilyanne. I mean sure these fevers hurt now but she''s going to be fiiiiine, trust me.


    But I''m the only one who knows these spoilers.


    "Ronald, hand me one."


    A rough plain uncut stone flies through the air, no larger than a softball. It looks different than the one Lukas used to make the world snow but I have a feeling it serves a similar purpose.


    "Even without a strong enough pool, the body can typically outlet the mana back into nature and the elements around it.More often then not people struggle to close these channels to hoard these pools. Lilyanne however does not have these natural channels."


    He presents the stone to my parents, who are still attached from hip to chest,as if it were a delicate treasure rather than the ugly rock it is.


    "This material is unknown but it is the only substance that can naturally siphon pure magical mana."


    "Then we must use it right away!"


    "No my Buttercup, Save this for a day when the child needs it most. Today is not that day."


    "She''s going through such a fever! How could she not need it yet?!"


    "You mean it can get worse."


    Father reasons, struggling to keep an anxious mother still. With his free hand he gently accepts the rock and hands it over to mother, as if asking her to safe keep their daughter''s life saving treasure.


    "Yes, it can always get worse. Besides, didn''t I say by normal means your child should have perished by now. Why do you think that hasn''t happened yet?"


    Everyone turns to look back at the still unconscious Lilyanne. While she''s still flushed, her breathing seemed to have evened out and her sleep a lot less restless.


    Actually I don''t think they''re staring at her so much as they''re staring at me. What the hell did I do now? Gable, a little clarification here please?


    But it''s grampa who speaks up from across the room, that tone of voice running shivers through me.


    "What the Goddess gives,can just as easily be taken away. "


    "...Papa?"


    "It''s my fault Maria, Frederick. If I hadn''t taken Rosalia away for so long then Lilyanne would haven''t gotten to this state. I make no excuses for myself. "


    Guilty, honest sincere guilt, is not a good look on him. As ridiculous and insane as this man is, I think I prefer to see him with the usual carefree air over this. But the more pressing question is, what does this have to do with me?


    Is this....is this the power I''ve been dreaming of for two lifetimes?


    "Well what''s done is done. It was a rather conclusive experiment. Treat it as a bad cold and give the child plenty of rest but keep the girls together. They don''t need to be directly touching though that may be of help if distance is a thing."


    Gable waves off. in the same way he brushed off Yuna''s venomous bite. As if Lilyanne''s life defining illness that made her the pitiful maiden she is, really was nothing more than a bad cold, and I''m the common antibiotics. No biggie....


    Yes biggie!!!


    Hey your explanation sucked! What going on? Tell me my long awaited cheat power!


    Ah did I scream that out loud? Whoops.


    But the mood lifts and clears like a rainstorm has just passed, grampa''s laughter the lingering thunder rumbling.


    "Haha ah we''re not too sure about that yet either! Right Gable!."


    "Indeed, more observation has to be made to be certain. But rather than a ''power'', it may be more accurate to say it''s a lack of lack of one. A negative if you will."


    "...So I don''t get to wield any magical powers?"


    "No, that''s directly opposite to how your supposed element would work."


    "Any enhancements?Cool passive abilities? Anything?"


    "Well, you can offset your sister''s output for one...."


    Grampa''s interrupting voice booms out again, sic kingly nice and overly cheerful.


    "That means NOPE!"


    The tiny blooming hope that cracked through in my heart has been crash landed and burned with a falling asteroid. It is now a sad sad murder scene, Top 10 saddest anime deaths should consider me on the list. Here lies Rosalia''s hope and dreams.


    "Rosalia dear, your face."


    My father reminds me, already half recovered from his shock. Ah what sort of funny expressions did I do now? I''m allowed to go through all my stages of grief here okay, I was mislead!


    "Oh no Rosa, you''re crying. My baby no, does it hurt somewhere? Is it the mana flow?! Papa! Gable dear fix it!"


    Mother rushes up wipe my face that is indeed showing how I can''t control this body''s tear ducts. Yes of course my pride hurts, I wanted magic too!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Well, I don''t know if it will help but there is one more thing I''d like to try confirming today. Ronald."


    "Yes dear"


    "...."


    Gable rolls his eyes before three other similarly sized rocks fly over. They''re all rough and unpolished but it''s clear they''re different colors and most likely different minerals. One of them looks exactly like a small version of the ice rock from earlier.


    "These are different elemental stones. Naturally Lilyann''e pure mana can''t runoff back into nature, however with Rosalia''s effect..."


    The rocks gently plop down between my sister and I, Upon contact, they light up immediately. Just a zap and glow, like someone plugged the lights in.


    "Together, the output into the air is compatible with anything. "


    Gable lets out a very out of place grin, one of a satisfied mad scientist. It matches grampa''s crazy one too eerily well.


    Does this make me, well us, essentially a human battery? Ahh I think it does, what a sick joke .


    Wait a damn minute!


    Living battery + positive and negative traits + twins + cute and tiny = _______


    ...


    Are we fucking Pokemon?!!! Oh my god we''re the little red and blue pikachu rip offs! I don''t even get to be one of the cool Pokemon, I''m a support type! God I don''t even get to evolve! This is an even sicker joke! WTF!!!


    Seriously, what sort of cheap rip off power is this?!


    ...At least I''m cute.


    -----

 46 Homecoming

    Good news, my sister is feeling much better. She''s bouncing back to her regular self at an amazingly fast rate. Magical mana overload huh? Never thought that was a thing.


    Bad news, we''re attached at the hip and this little baby is more than happy to cling on to me when she awoke. No promoting needed, by evening she was up and happily burrowing herself into my skin.


    "Rosa! Rosa back!"


    "Yes I''m back, please let go Lilyanne, it''s too hot"


    "Rooooosssssaaaa, no fawe."


    "Yes yes yes go back to sleep, I''ll be riiiiight here."


    It seems I''ve been gone too long. I don''t know if it''s the receding fever pain or her own natural crybaby that has her wetly crying through my precious sweater. Maybe I should have changed, if she let me that is. It''s very inconvenient


    To calm her down I fed her a ''soda'' and then another. I shouldn''t encourage this habit but hey she''s sick and sticky.


    The soda''s mild healing effect for colds really do stack up, if anything it helped with some of the symptoms. That''s what we''re telling the household staff anyways. Rude, my ''sodas'' are kinda effective.


    SHe has no idea what''s going on or the newfound magical abilities between us, she''s just really happy to have me back. Kids are so pure.


    Besides napping and waiting for her to fully recover, there''s nothing to do cooped up in here. While I was prepared for it, the shift from being a semi-independent guest at Gable''s with physical chores and freedoms to well, the little cooped up young miss again is dis-jarring.


    I don''t even mind milking that old goat so much.


    Just when I figured out I brought my crafts with me in my space bag, grampa and Gable came back like Dr. Frankenstein and his assistant. Gable looked nice and neat as ever, a dark leather-bound book and ink set ready. Grampa was a packing mule carrying a bunch of stuff, including more rocks.


    The experiments gave me something to do I suppose. It was also likely that they helped drain Lilyanne of her fever faster.


    Rocks of all shapes and sizes lit up and charged for various duration and Gable faithfully scribbles his observations down. There was an incident with some fruit and a small rock exploding but other than that he looked satisfied.


    It wasn''t just rocks either, grampa pulled out rings, staffs, weapons, potted plants and even a boulder out of seemingly nowhere. I KNEW IT!


    I knew grampa had more inter dimension space storage, yeah I''m definitely keeping my tiny bag.


    "But that one actually has-"


    "Nope! Mine now!"


    "It''s hers now Ronald, you know it would happen."


    Case closed, I honestly should be getting more for what I''ve been through. Hey, how do I sue for monetary compensation?


    The rest of the morning, or is it afternoon now, goes by just like that. Lilyanne sleeps easily, still in recovery while I light up any objects that Gable floats in front of me. I''ve come to figure out that the moment I even think I start to feel a tingle of magic then the thing has changed quite enough. Too much more and we''ll have another explosion on our hands.


    The closer my sister and I are to each other, the faster an item charges. I wish I could say how fast a rate but it really depends on the item. Even if they''re the exact same size, two rocks can take vastly different charge times. I don''t know if one holds more if it''s just because they''re different materials. Well, I''ll leave the analysis to the professionals, aka Gable.


    Grampa comes in and out carrying items and packages too small to be holding all the stuff they''ve used on their human battery experiments.


    "Do you feel any fatigue at all Rosalia?"


    "No."


    "Any strain or side effects? Anything at all?"


    "Nope, don''t feel a thing."


    "Hmm, interesting."


    My parents occasionally peek in but they look like they need the rest just as much as Lilyanne, especially mother. There''s still work and household matters to attend to that they need to catch up on and since Lilyanne is in good hands, they can leave us in peace.


    "Gable will you be staying here long?"


    "Hmm, it depends but I don''t think so, not more than a few days. Would it make you feel better if I did?"


    "Yes!"


    "Well, I have some things to do at the camp anyways. Besides I should give Lukas time to transition before taking him back with me."


    "Oh right, the boys! That''s a smart idea but, where did grampa take them off to?"


    A quick porthole window mirror circles itself into existence, showing the mentions two half playing around with the Ventrella household guards and half manually organizing some rocks. Despite the obvious labor they look like they''re enjoying themselves falling over grampa.


    But how many rocks are there? Wait wait wait how are they carrying that? WTF?! That must weigh a ton! Oi guards aren''t you ashamed? A pair of puny brats are out lifting you!


    Ah forget it, grampa only recruits monsters.


    It''s a little lonely in here when Gable leaves. I only have a sleeping baby here and my crafts from my bag for entertainment. I wonder if they''re allowed to come up and hang out? Maybe if I throw notes from the window?


    ----


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    After two days of peaceful confinement with Dr. Gable and his packing mule grampa coming in with loads of items to charge, I have been given my freedom again. Which is great because I was going to sneak out anyway if they didn''t.


    I''m pretty sure I could survive jumping out the second-story window if I position the boys correctly. No need for notes, we just shout at each other, they''re doing well. They''ve taken to either following grampa or Gable around if they''re not back at the camp. By now the troops have returned.


    I also don''t have the heart to tell them that grampa''s special ''training'' for them is really just manual labor carrying around rocks, poor things.


    Gable already gave the ok on Lilyanne, there''s not much mass mana draining I can do by sticking with her any further. For now her body just needs to recover , just as if she had the flu or a severe cold. It''s more than enough if we just share the same bed as always.


    So just like father and mother I have much work to catch up on. First stop, the kitchens!


    "Georgey boy! You''re looking much smoother."


    "And you look like the little boy really you are. Welcome back Rosalia. "


    "I shall take that as a compliment that my hair suits me very well."


    "That is does."


    While the entirety of the kitchen staff gives me a warm welcome home, it can''t be helped that I''m closest to George. He''s my precious guinea pig- uh I mean assistant.His skin isn''t magically made over but his acne has improved a lot since I last saw him and his face looks very soft. I''d say the witch hazel toner and cold cream was a success.


    What about the rest of my soap batches?


    "Yeah, you were gone and no one knew what to do with Abigail since she was personally picked up by you, so we agreed to let her watch over and handle your things. "


    "Oh...you left my soaps in her charge?."


    "You forgot you picked up a maid now, didn''t you?"


    "I was busy! You saw that bird carry me off, it slipped my mind."


    A decent outskirt room that must have once served as a cold storage, not too far from the kitchen, was where they set up all my little arts and craft projects, aka all batches of soap and the cold cream. A portion was left back in the capital to cure experimentally but the majority was brought back with us.


    "Young Mistress, welcome back!!!Thank golly you''re back safe and sound!"


    "Just Rosalia is fine. I apologize for leaving you without setting you up properly. I hope you were able to adjust well here Abigail."


    And the maid I picked up I suppose. She''s in the awkward position of not being an official maid in training, and definitely not inner housemaid approved, but personally selected by me. Good thing the kitchen staff settled her in because I''m really not sure how this excitable little lamb would survive with my other maids.


    Without any other orders, besides officially handling my curing soap, she''s been helping out as a kitchen hand.


    "Young Mistress Rosalia, I''ve cut and set the bars out to cry just like you spoke of before! Since you said they should air I also took the liberty to take out all the ones in the molds! If I have overstepped please punish this servant!"


    "...No that''s quite alright, really, please get off the floor Abigail...you were a big help taking care f my soaps while I was gone. Thank you. "


    True, the stone shelves are partly stocked and the once strange room is beginning to look like a plain soap shop. The molds and equipment are even lined up nice and neat, all cleaned up. I see no problem with the goods, some of the soaps have a dusty bubbling on it or the colors are off on inside but hey not bad for the first time. Just a little cosmetic issue.


    My new little maid, however...


    "Young Mistress Rosalia, not that I didn''t try to keep busy but I''ve also taken the liberty of starting to gather oils and dry ingredients! I''ve labeled the amount at each package!"


    "Oh, do you know how to read Abbey? I can call you Abby right?"


    "Young Mistress Rosalia may call this servant whatever she likes! I can''t read outside of some common food items and equipment but I know my numbers mistress!"


    "Really do just call me Rosalia, you did really well Abby."


    "Than ye very much Young Mis-


    "Just Rosalia!"


    "Er Miss Rosalia. IF there''s anything else I can do to be of service, lease allow me. I know I''m not as smart or well off as your other maids but I''ll do my best!"


    You''re plenty fine Abigail. In fact, I have a new assignment for you!"


    "Yes! Thank you very much Young Mistree--er Miss Rosalia!"


    Her first task to take a damn break.


    Ah, what is with this girl? She''s more of a living human battery than I''m supposed to be. DId she really cut everything? They''re so nice and perfectly even, did she do this without rulers or specialized equipment? I haven''t commissioned any cutters yet?! Are those dried rose petal sprinkled into the soap?


    I had the more motherly kitchen hands and cooks, *cough* Barbra *cough*, settle her in further.


    It''s not bad to be energetic but she''s certainly too nervous. Can''t deny what she said though, she''s not the same sort as my usual maids. She doesn''t come from a minor noble or such household training themselves up but I don''t even like my usual maids so there''s that.


    From the staff, though I hear she''s a very nice, if overly eager to please sort of girl. Lots of siblings in her household, lots of work to do at all times to support them. Good worker. Not a bad seed to try polishing up, besides I think I can trust her over my precious investments more than those inner maids of mine, or well Lilyanne.


    Secondly, I wonder if Gable would be so kind as to help me out again? The basic soap is usable right now but it would work much better if it cured longer. What is that thing he uses to make his potions and things age faster!


    The cooks asking me for clarification on the written crab recipes, and people who want me to test taste their new salad vinaigrette.


    Oh and then there are the lessons! I mean it''s not much use and I''m sure my parents took care of it in my absentee but I should at least correspond with my supposed tutors. Huh, I wonder if I should put them to use in teaching Abby to read instead of me. Wait can George read? What is the literacy rate of my staff? I mean we''re already paying the tutors so...


    More importantly, I need to find a way back to the training camp to correspond with Ms. Tamera and Vincent. That can be easily arranged right?


    Oh there''s just so much work to catch up on! It''s not just father and mother juggling their affairs matter in order.


    My relaxing countryside vacation is over, back to work!


    ----


    Silly Bonus:


    "Frederick dear, I really don''t think it''s necessary to stare so much. They''re just children."


    Despite Maria''s gentle coaxing her husband would still not look away from the window, though he did at least finally sit down. Still she could feel the rather intense heat from his glare, as hot as his hair color.


    From behind the drawn back curtain was a portion of the garden that her papa had taken up and was currently looking more like a rock quarry. Besides the scenery, the most noticeable things were not the amount of med going to and fro, nor her own papa pulling things in and out of his spaces. It was the little boys tagging along, carrying things about that children should not be carrying.


    Their enhanced strength was of no surprise to her of all people but she did marvel on their stamina. What wonderful little talents papa has found.


    Of course, she recognized a few other things in the piles besides rocks, mostly the ridiculous amount of weapons and amulet charms.Maria was no fool, while she knew the drainage of magical mana could speed up her daughter''s recovery it would also benefit the owner of all these items that have been enchantingly charged.


    Magically enhanced weapons, while typically have no need of recharge like power stones do, wouldn''t not benefit from the polish and boost that magic could provide, especially if her daughters were producing as pure of a source as her dearest Gable claimed.


    Either way, they would only benefit. Lilyanne gets better faster while Papa and the guards get a boost in power. It would save them a lot money too, Frederick had remarked earlier. They wouldn''t need to be refueling the household''s water, heating, and other power sources for a good while. He always had a better sense of such things. Business and logistics were never her strong suits.


    "Exactly! Far too young to be running around after Father on his matters. They should be somewhere appropriate, far far away."


    "Hmm if you''re that concerned perhaps I should call for a few more helping hands from the camp? Maybe go in and help myself?"


    "Dear god of course not Maria, no you stay there and rest. Not a finger of your fair hand is to be lifted."


    Maria felts herself blush, it''s odd how her husband could still make her swoon at the oddest moments. They''ve been married for years but now and things still felt as fresh as when they were young.


    "That''s a ridiculous thought, we''re still plenty young."


    Remarked her husband, biting down a bit too harshly on his meal. Oh did she say that out loud again? How silly of her.


    "Really darling, it''s nothing new, papa takes in young talents all the time. Though they are awfully young."


    "Yes but he doesn''t necessarily take them here! "


    "Frederick...are you feeling petty again? Or dear, I know your hero worship side flares up and it''s been a tense few weeks but


    "I am not being petty my love I am being careful, and no it''s not about that!"


    "You were always a fanboy over papa, many men are, it''s nothing to be ashamed of dear. I still married you despite that and I''m his daughter you know. I''m very used to that sort of thing."


    "Maria that was years ago and it not about that! "


    "If you say so darling if it makes you feel better you''re still the only son in law fanboy papa has."


    For some reason her normally gentle, though crass, husband lets out a hint of a growl at that. Unfortunately for her, as worried as she is, she quite likes it when he simmers and growls like a feral cat. Ah, there she goes again with the blushing.


    "They very well could be scheming for the same thing."


    "Darling! Are you saying that those adorable little things, young enough to be our children, are ''scheming'' for my hand? Why Frederick, I''ve never thought it in you to be so jealous let alone ridiculous."


    Frederick tries to explain through his beloved wife''s giggling. He tries but it''s been so long since she''s laughed like this, so long since his youngest fell ill, that he allows his awkward humiliation for a little while longer. Because his Maria deserves all the good things and feelings in the world, even if she''s laughing at him.


    "Maria you simply don''t understand the wicked minds of men."


    "Of course not, especially little fanboys! Oh but you have the authority on that don''t you, my darling?"


    "Exactly! "


    She burst out into such unladylike laughter that it hurts her sides, and if it were anyone else watching but her husband she would surely be embarrassed to be witnessed. Ah, when was the last time she laughed like this?


    "That''s the point, Maria, those little boys are far from simple,"


    "Few people around Papa are dear."


    "We have daughters now, lovely little daughters. You know most painfully what that''s like to be followed and courted by such of these so called ''fanboys."


    And that, that does bring back some not so pleasant memories for Maria. But the past is the past and her present is more than enough to make up for it, no need to dwell. Not when she has this.


    "Frederick dear, are you saying our little babies are already being courted because I highly doubt that."


    "You didn''t see them when they first arrived! Rosalia was sleeping right on top of them! Right in one of their chest, clutched!!"


    "Ah yes, sleeping children how worrisome. "


    " And they keep talking, don''t tell me you don''t see them giggling about from her window. She doesn''t even get near her fiance!"


    "Our Rosalia''s a social girl! I was one too you know, plenty of playmates growing up. Besides to be fair they are certainly more charming, especially that little brunette with the sweet dimples, oh they''re adorable. "


    "See! Even you''re beginning to fall for their schemes!"


    "Oh yes you''re quite right, I''m thinking of leaving you for a 5 year old! No need for them to scheme to be grandsons-in-law!"


    "Maria!"


    And so peace finally returns to the Ventrella house household. Despite Frederick''s awkward concerns, Lilyanne''s steady recovery, and Rosalia''s not so secret business juggling peace returns and settles into their bones once more.


    Outside, Ronald smiles at the sound of his daughter''s cheerful laughter.

 47 A special request?

    We have run out of things to charge in the house. I have no idea how much stuff passed through our hands, okay mostly mine, but it was a lot.


    Lilyanne and I have to stay together in order to light up any of such stones. Either one of us can do the charge but in order for us to work, we have to be with a close enough range to one another.While I''ve gone through quite a good number of experimental charges for Gable while Lilyanne was sleeping away her illness when she awake back in good health it was a little more troublesome to explain.


    Good thing my sister is a very obedient child and easily does as I say. I tried to make a simple explanation for her but she doesn''t quite get it, nor does she really have to I suppose. Do the concept and basic understanding of electricity even exist here?


    She does get that sometimes she has to hold her big sister''s hand and push the ''funny thing'' out. She can even feel that ''funny thing'' fill up into a rock or object of choice. It must be the magical mana she''s feeling. So lucky!


    She just can''t feel when to stop, guess that''s my job.


    So it''s seemed we''ve powered all rocks that have been supposedly hidden and stored around our house including the jewelry items and or guards'' weapons. All for free of charge!


    Hey father, I know we saved money from this.


    Hey hey, where''s my momentary compensation? When do I start getting an allowance anyways?


    I don''t ever recall ever getting an allowance the last time. Honestly, I had no need for physical money, especially after my debut into the social world. If I ever wanted anything all I had to do was demand it. No matter the cost, if I wanted it, then I got it, as long as it was purchasable. The other Rosalia who spent money as if it was nothing but water really hurts my liver.


    As the sort of person who hunts down supermarket sales and never buys nonnecessities without a discount, such a thought really makes me want to spit out blood. Damn rich people!


    There are no such things as a sale in this world, nor do I need it because I''m one of those damn rich people now. But I can''t, I really can''t convert to such a wasteful lifestyle. More importantly, I still need to stockpile money for my future.


    Who knows what may come? Money is my only true companion and safety net in this life. I''m not just being cheap every time I demand monetary compensation. I need my own capital here.


    But no one is trusting a toddler with cold hard cash, or well coins, just yet.


    How disappointing


    Well, I always knew there was a lot of work to be done still. No need to be down this early on. There are other things to do besides dreaming of collecting money.


    Since the matters in the kitchen have been mostly caught up on I can breathe a bit easier.


    Unfortunately, there is nothing Gable can teach or currently leave me to increase the speed of curing, it''s just not possible given my skills or lack of them. I knew such a thing was too good to be true cheat to be mine.


    He''ll gladly help me out while he''s here though, as thanks for making the herbal soaps for him. I quickly had more made after receiving such news. He''s only here for so long, I need as much soap ready for his speed spells, not just the ones already made. Time is money!


    Oh and ''sodas'' too! Gather those krackle berries people!


    Abigail''s extra effort in gather supplies will not be taken in vain and the rest was easy enough to procure with my connections.


    Mass ingredients, excluding bovine milk, were local and easy to procure in this land. I selected them accordingly after all.


    There are no perfumeries around here though so it''s just fresh local farmed and wildflowers which we will have to distill and process ourselves. If anything we can dry a few to include as decorations.


    This time we have a lot of wild climbing roses, which range from pure white to half pink, and wild orchids. Sunflowers are beginning to bloom too but the oil hasn''t been processed or collected yet. Requests for farmers and millers to start on that has been sent on my behalf.


    The blooms I''m most excited to work with is the plentiful amount of red poppies we''ve gathered! Contrary to my namesake, roses bore me. Seriously, it''s so generic, people out to put in more creativity than just roses, roses, and more roses. They''re not bad, just overrated. I want to work with all sorts of things and ingredients. Poppies blossoms are very pretty but they aren''t as versatile to work with.


    Worry not because I''m mainly interested in the seeds, yes poppy seed!


    These poppy seeds are most similar to the common dark grey edible kind that I''m used to. No drugged effects here! Shame about the lack of medicinal potential but these seeds should still be very nutritious!


    High in fiber and full of other good things.


    I am also excited to make some treats with these things. Lemon poppy seed cake here I come!


    Honestly, I''m more excited to eat the seeds than I am to make them into skincare and soap. They taste so good toasted into bread and bagels. Though we don''t have bagels here it can still be very yummy. MMmmmm.


    It''s not that I just want to eat them, this works for both business and pleasure! They do make for an excellent exfoliator in skincare, Or you can grind them up and use the paste against inflammation and for moisturizing.


    Wait, if I make both lemon poppy seed cake and soap will people get confused and try eating the soap? I''m worried, I''ve seen modern people from the other world accidentally eat soap all the time...Well that will just have to be a risk we shall have to take.


    Okay everyone, gather all the supplies, gear up the safety equipment and commence for Rosalia''s Skin-lab round #2!


    -----


    Success!


    This time went much smoother and easier than the first time we tried creating soap at the capital. Experience is the best teacher!


    With Gable''s magical help everything looks as if they''ve been cured for many months. Even the long wait time milk-based ones!


    They''re essentially ready to go, though I do need to figure out how to keep bubbles from forming or the colors from gelling. Not cosmetically appealing enough to be market ready just yet, not if I''m aiming to sell these things for an absurd amount to some other damn rich people.


    Oh well, it''s a work in progress.


    I''m so happy at the sped up results, I even used some of my precious poppy seeds reserved for eating into a curd paste cream for George! Here here my little acne-prone test subject, I have more good things for you!


    There''s so much soap made that, of course, everyone who was involved, aka slave labored by me, gets some as a reward. I''m not dumb enough to not leave some reward and incentive to my employees. Stick and carrot, or something like that.


    A good portion of it will go just to the official household use. They''re not up to standards to sell yet but it''s fine to use at home. The kitchen and the stables need them the most as well as the washing staff. Everyone would more than appreciate these additions.


    There''s still so much left over though and I already have supplies coming in for round 3. What to do...


    So I asked to see if I could hit 3 birds with one stone. To the training camps!


    "Grampa could Lilyanne and I go to the Garrison with you?"


    "What''s that Rosa, do you miss seeing your grampa that much?!"


    "Just Gable."


    "Oh...well that''s fair."


    Even if grampa is gone and running around doing who knows what for Gable, he still tries to make dinners with us at the mansion, if not then breakfast. While I knew I could probably get such a request approved easily I still buttered him up with some good food at dinner, mmm poppy seed onion bread was also a success. I should inquire about layering it baked with cheese though. The bread yeast research is getting there.


    "But Gable visits you two at home too, why do you want to go hmmmm?" hums grampa in an exaggerated manner. But then again all of him is really rather exaggerated.


    "You''re still testing out our powers right, or well Lilyanne''s power. I know you have a lot more stuff that can be charged at the camp, it would be easier to just take us there and let Lilyanne go wild."


    It''s reasonable enough request that benefits everyone, but grampa and his troops even more so. I know they''re worried about Lilyanne''s condition but Gable is a curious man, how far can she go? What is her power limit and how does it work?


    "We''ll see how your sister feels in the morning. But I think it should be A-ok."


    "Thank you grampa."


    "But you have to be the one to tell your mother."


    "Ack! Gramps, wait no."


    I don''t feel anything from the charges, I''m not the power source here. I figure at most I''m the converter that gets whatever''s going on in Lilyanne into a useable state for them to use.Thus I feel no side effects. It''s Lilyanne everyone has to consider.


    But the next morning she''s in fine health and I had a whole evening to pack and prepare. A little wobbly from near two weeks of fever and bed rest but giddy to be up and going out.


    "Field twip field twip!"


    "Right Lily, we''re going on a field trip!


    "We go wit gwamp!"


    "Yes, grampa is taking us so we''re nice and safe. Say thank you to mother for letting us go."


    "Yay grampy! Go now?!"


    "Lilyanne, say bye-bye and thank you to ''mama''"


    "Mama! Mama tank youuuu! Mama I wuv you!"


    Against Lilyane''s innocent unbridled joy and my very reasonable explanations, mother caves and allows for us to go. Honestly, she should just get used to it seeing as how I plan on coming and going from there quite a lot.


    I should do something to improve the travel in between though. Grampa''s not always here and I''m not allowed to horseback ride on my own yet, still being far too small. But carriage rides are inconvenient and makes me sick while the early morning shipments are too early for me to wake up. Better roads? A shuttle wagon schedule?


    I mull over it on the hour ride over, forcefully settling myself between grampa and his steed. I don''t care if he makes fun of me endlessly for being needy. No motion sick carriages for me, not if I can help it.


    Behind the first gate, Uncle Geoff waits for us, as reliable as ever.


    "Good morning Uncle Geoff, Lillyane say hello."


    "Hewo!"


    "My it feels like it''s been so long since I last saw you girls, you''ve gotten so big. And Rosalia what a dashing little hair cut you have now."


    Now this is a genuine well-spoken gentleman! Ah, more men need to take a note from you uncle Geoff.


    While he leads us to where Gable has set up his temporary lab office I can''t help but say hello or talk a bit to the familiar faces we passed by. I even see the grumpy cat - uh I mean Yuna has survived his odd butterfly bite with no side effects. Except maybe complaints, which is understandable. I''d be too if a butterfly vampire bit me out of commission like a bad drunk.


    Along the way, I note for people to send Tamera or Vincent my way if they run into them.


    Until then we head down, unsurprisingly, underground. Gable sure likes to burrow himself hidden huh, but I also think that if there were power stones running this place they would be hidden where no one could see.


    Since uncle Geoff is guiding us down with grampa, it''s safe to say he''s in on this too. Nice to count another safe person.


    In a deep basement chamber that was surprisingly easy to access, stood Gable with levitating notes reedy to be scribbled. Even more shocking was how large and wide the chamber was. The only thing was that there were no rocks like I was expecting.


    "Oh it''s here Rosalia, can''t you see them?"


    No, I really can''t. It''s just a large empty hallway, supported with many tall stone columns, Which on closer inspection seem to be made of different materials. Oh I see! It''s like someone mined a mountain and built this.


    "The columns! They''ve been built into the support beams and foundations!"


    "Good job, ingenious isn''t it? But terribly impossible to move. They''re all interconnected and hold incomparably more than power stones we''ve been working with before. Don''t worry about exploding these, I expect you''ll reach your limits here."


    He was right.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    While I don''t feel any effects, it''s tiring to just stand around doing nothing while acting as a battery converter. I half lean with my face squishing the cool rock as I wait for Lilyanne to tire out, emptying her mana pools far faster than her little body could restore it. She already charged so much these past few days too.


    Lilyanne was told to focus on pushing but for over an hour I felt like we were just standing around. But hey I''m the one who can''t feel the magic here.


    ---


    Back on the surface again I run into Amar and Lukas before I do Tamera and VincentFor why Lilyanne and I separate, well she''s getting coddled by grampa somewhere for being tired and I got bored.


    In this space that is grampa''s domain don''t I essentially have free rein to roam where I please? There''s not a soul here who doesn''t recognize the Lord commander''s precious grandchildren.


    Still, it takes a lot of guts or foolishness to ambush me the way these two have.


    "Is it true?!"


    "What is Lukas? And get off of me already!"


    "Hi Rosalia! Sorry, Rosalia.


    "Hi to you too Amar. Now, will you guys get off me?"


    Today it is not a Rosalia sandwich but a dogpile, with me at the bottom. I sense no other children around, these two must have seeked me out specifically.


    "The good thing!"


    "The what now?"


    "What Lukas wants to say is that the kitchens are talking about this amazing thing. It''s called something like ''pizza'' -"


    "Word is that it can only be made not by your house but by you. Is that true? IS it even better than a soda?! Oh do you still have any more of that too?"


    "Pizza? The kitchens are talking about it to the troops?"


    "Nah, Marcus hears it Grendada who heard from Shurine who talked to Old Tonka who works deliveries."


    "...You heard from who?"


    Is Lukas a little boy or a gossipy middle-aged woman?


    "But Dana confirms it too because she''s worked both the cafeteria and your home''s kitchens."


    "Ah that makes more sense, thank you Amar."


    "So? Is it amazingly delicious?"


    "It''s not even ready yet, but I like it a lot. That''s why I''m trying to make it just right"


    "Sounds good enough for me, right Amar?" grins Lukas.


    "Tasty things are tasty." the other boy nods along.


    It''s interesting how news gets around but it makes sense if my kitchen staff and the cafeteria here work hand in hand. I mean the ovens here are much larger and we get the bread rolls delivered ...wait a minute.


    The ovens here are better for making bread....hmm.


    "So Rosalia, when will they be ready?! Everyone talks about this ''pizza'' like it''s a legend or something. I have to try it before I leave, please please please."


    Lukas begs, puppy eyes on full force. I should call it a piggy eye but I can''t blame him. I also got always got excited when hearing about new restaurant openings or food trends.Internet foodporn videos did not help. Amar pats his friend''s back in support.


    "We''re really glad Lukas gets to go apprentice with Gable but since everyone is talking about this pizza-"


    "Please please please let me try it before I go."


    This gives me another idea actually.


    "And everyone''s heard about it?"


    "Uh yeah, did I not say it enough before?"


    "No no no you said plenty Lukas. But do you think people would be willing to help?"


    "Of course why wouldn''t they!"


    "Bartering, favors, and work is traded more than money around here Rosalia. Though I do see people gamble with money a lot."


    "Well then listen up! Follow my instructions carefully and I promise you all the pizza you can possibly eat."


    After all, what kind of going away party is better than a pizza party?


    -----

 48 Pizza Party

    The ovens belonging to the camp cafeterias are magnificent. Things of absolute beauty. They''re large firestone brick things with enough capacity to bake enough food to feel all these calorie-burning athletes here on a daily basis.


    No other set of ovens, not even the Ventrella mansion''s, can compare.


    How did I get access into these kitchens with the sublime ovens?


    I didn''t sneak in, I have to be able to use and command people to use these things after all. While I''m nowhere as in power here like I am at home, there are a few familiar faces. It''s true, some of my kitchen staff work rotation with the cafeteria. That explains the shared recipes.


    If the little eldest Miss, granddaughter to their boss, wants in then she gets in. She also gets a cup of juice! Giving orders is thirsty work.


    I should have realized sooner that my yeast research was actually taking place here, where the more experienced bakers are. God where these massive ovens are.


    "And what business doe the little lady have barging up into my kitchen like this" grunts a man that resembles a warthog., sharp mustache for tuffs. The head baker I believe.


    "I''ve come to give my thanks and greetings for our daily bread, may I just say what beautiful a kitchen this is. Especially the ovens, what glorious ovens!"


    "Hmmpf, is that so!"


    He huffs but looks very pleased every time I compliment the bread or the ovens. Yes yes the kitchen and tools are a chef''s pride! I shall rain on the praise, no need to lie, because these are some really great brick and clay ovens. It smells wonderful in here!


    "It''s not much but please accept these little things as a sign of my love and appreciation all this time."


    "Oh, I think I''ve seen some of this from the mansion."


    Yes, the thing I''ve prepared ahead of time and paced in my storage bag is loads of soap. Batch one and two basic cleaning soaps! There''s also the ''olive oil'' soaps since that may be more familiar of a thing. I''ve rounded up the rest of the stock except for some saved samples to not only curry favor with the staff here but get more test subjects!


    After some inquiring, I''ve discovered that no, grampa did not dip his toes in soap making nor did he share such things with his own training camp. I do have a monopoly on this, bwahahaha.


    "Just scrape a little into a water or vinegar mixture, you will find it far more effective in cleaning all matters of things. By itself, it is also very gentle on the skin. Yes, your poor hands will thank you!."


    In one final hit of kissing up, I present Mr. Boar Baker with some bars of the more limited new poppy seed and slightly older rose soaps, making sure to play up my sales pitch in a complimenting way.


    Amar and Lukas sit watching on the side, one casually sipping kiddy juice while the other stares slack-jawed. Something tells me Lukas and Mr. Boar Baker don''t get along the best. It''s not just Amar''s previous warning about how Lukas keeps getting caught stealing food.


    "Oh ho ho, not bad , not bad at all. You certainly know how to show your respect to your elders. Now, what do you really want."


    Mr. Boar Baker gives me a look sharper than the point on his mustache. Threats aside he''s definitely pleased, I can tell from how he''s immediately pocketed the bribes. I like smart and to the point people so I don''t mind at all.


    "I''ve heard the word ''pizza'' trickled among and whispered by the troops here. For once I would like a little more discretion on what is shared and spoken about to others outside the kitchens, some things are not ready to be revealed yet. But secondly..."


    Mr. Boar Baker goes form glaring in the boy''s direction to carefully regarding me again, hanging on to what I''m about to ask.


    "...I require help in creating the full version of ''pizza''. Today."


    Instead of confusion or even a sign of complaint like I expected, Mr. Boar Baker breaks into a rather murderous looking grin. With a clap of his very large hands, a line of staff people come rushing out. They carry a variety of items but at the forefront are those with large bowls and lumps of dough, in various states of rest and rising.


    "My Lady, I have been waiting for this since we''ve first received your orders. To find and create the perfect dough for this savory ''pizza'' pie. "


    "You''re very well prepared."


    "We have been expecting you My Lady, please inspect the results of our labor."


    I should be a little more shocked at the level of preparedness but again, I don''t dislike straightforwardness. Especially not when it''s so effective. There''s too much dough though, I can''t possibly know what''s going on here or which one will work out. Still, I poke and prod at each sample presented to me.


    "There''s only one real way to test your work, you must know. What of the other ingredients?"


    "As my Lady has spoken, we have long gathered and bottled a sauce made from tomatoes and herbs. The now regular purchase of water buffalo milk and cheese has acquainted our staff with proficiency in using the ingredient. It is well stocked."


    "Wonderful, excellent work! You shall all be rewarded appropriately! Very well then...Fire Up the Ovens!"


    "Yes My Lady, you heard her! Get to work!"


    "Yes chef!"


    A chorus of the same lines echoes back as the entire cafeteria staff bows and rushes to work.


    Lukas jaw seems to have dropped even lower while Amar looks like he''s watching an entertaining show, Somewhere in the time I''ve been giving orders he''s gotten a refill of juice, hey no fair I''m parched too.


    While the ovens are firing up to the right temperate, everyone is acquainting themselves with the mandatory soap hand washing.


    There are 17 different yeasts and dough types, and each is no small amount. With a very tall stepping stool and a lot of willing eyes and hands, I demonstrate the proper way to prepare a pizza pie.


    You must work the dough! Stretch it and flatten it! They are to be molded to a safe 12-14 inch sized pizza each. The primary test today is not on the sauce, cheese or even toppings but the dough. Thus all of those other things are to be kept simple, margarita pizzas for all. Herbs and cuts of veggies annd bacon are kept on stand by for variety in toppings but it is my belief to keep these crucial first test tastes simple and unaided by other flavors.


    Not long after the first round of pizzas was put into the ovens, that familiar mouth-watering smell wafted through the room. Even though everyone is hard at work preparing the next pies to baked, such a scent stopped everyone in their tracks, even Mr. Boar.


    "Is...is it supposed to smell so good?" spoke Amar, barely above a whisper.


    "This really is the stuff of legends!" exclaimed Lukas, jumping up and down in excitement.


    Only the boys had to guts to speak up through the tantalizing smell. Put of fairness I also made them help out if I have to be covered in flour, so do they.


    "Not legends, no. This is pizza."


    Saliva runs but no one is to touch the steaming pizzas, not without my orders. To keep efficiency we must slide in the next batch into the ovens, the fresh pizzas are too hot anyways.


    With a two-handed saw device, the finished pizza pies are cut into perfectly even slices. Despite orders, no one can work any further, to transfixed with the delicacy in front of them/


    17 beautiful Margarita pizzas line up. Out of all the dough, number 14 looked to be most promising, most resembling the pizza dough I''m used to. I point and Mr Boar reverently places the pie in front of me.


    "My Lady, please have a taste."


    It''s a nerve-wracking moment, held with bated breath, more for all the people watching than for me myself. The slice is so hot I need a napkin to not burn my hand and chorus of gasps rushes through the room as I ignore the fork and knife prepared for me.


    A huff and a puff to blow it down.


    I bite down with a satisfying crispy sound and the cheese oozes and stretches the moment I pull. Even though I want to fall and relish into the delicious aroma I must chew and judge carefully.


    Pass!


    This taste that I can''t forget passes!


    I just can''t get enough of this chewy dough, a classic Margarita pizza is very satisfying! So good so good! Every ''pizza'' flavor thing I''ve made till now was but a desperate imitation for this pie! This is the real deal!


    So good that I have no words! I must keep eating. It''s so nostalgically delicious that I near forget my audience if not the low whines and air of desperation around me.


    I give a thumbs up, mouth full of delicious pizza and the crowd cheers.


    The floodgates let loose and the pizza slices are distributed, mostly everyone handling to piping hot slices with their hands after my example. IT is both chaos and heaven as dozens of people, for the first time in this world, try ''pizza'' pie.


    Shouts, incomprehensible roars, tears, laughter, and all sorts of reactions go off like fireworks.


    It''s just so good!


    There''s not a single displeased face in the crowd once they bite down and it just makes me want to eat more.I may have chosen number 14 first but it''s important to try and analyze each and every one. Number 8 with the flat crust also looked very tempting.


    Since I can''t actually eat 17 slices of pizza there were already instructions to cut a little sample size of each, but the first batch to pizzas is entirely gone!


    The room is full of happy sounds and people are clamoring so well over the food, it can''t be helped. In fact, I''m glad that so many people like it, my heart swells with an odd mix of emotions. No matter what the world is people get ridiculously hyped up over a pizza party.


    ..I''ll just have to wait for the next batch t try everything.


    Being closest to me, the kids managed to grab slices of number 14 before the pies were all gone. Though Lukas also dual highhandedly got a slice of number 13 as well. His reaction was to be expected, like feeding a cute excitable piglet! There are absolute stars in his eyes and I''m pretty sure he burned the roof of his mouth but still eating quickly anyways. Meanwhile, Amar usually has a much more subdued reaction to anything compared to Lukas but I see no less of approval in the way his eyes are closed, utterly blissed out on stuffing his face with pizza. Pizza sauce stains his face, in fact, it stains many people''s face.


    We all need to calm down a little.


    There''s no point on even asking for their thoughts and market research right now. Everyone''s busy just enjoying the moment with tasty food, which is the best opinion I can ask for.


    "Damn it smells like heaven in here but it''s wafting outside and a riot is going to form."


    "Oi! I brought your damn deliveries so where''s the good food you promised""


    At the same time, two new presences make their way past the cafeteria security I had set up before the pizza making.


    Yuna comes with wagon loadtrailing behind him by a rope, it''s full of fresh ingredients I called for. II expected we would need more ingredients not knowing Mr. Boar had prepared so much ahead of time.Well the more the merrier.


    Towering over him is Tamera, looking confused at the scene in front of her. The scent of pizza is a dangerous thing, even more, fearsome than that of a 5-star meal. There''s just something about it. Upping the cafeteria kitchen''s security and placing crowd control. If there''s anyone absolutely intimating enough to damper a possible riot, I definitely trust Tamera to be it.


    I''d offer them a slice but it''s all gone.


    "Alright everyone, back to work! WE can''t let the next batch burn! Everyone to your stations, let''s get this pizza party started!"


    "Yes My Lady!" responds the crowd, while respectful enough previously, the taste of pizza has no energized and chained them to follow my commands. My ranking has obviously risen in their eyes beyond just "Lord Commander''s Granddaughter


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Mr. Boar!"


    "It''s Boaregous my lady, what can I do to serve you?''.


    "Apologies Mr. Boaregous, I''d like you to prepare bite-sized samples of each pie."


    "Yes, of course, my lady."


    "But for further the new ingredients, focus on doughs such as number 14. There is no need to prepare more of dough 1-4, nor number 16 and 17. Even without tasting yet I can tell they''re not suitable for this dish. Keep theyeast reserved for future bread."


    "Of course My Lady, your wisdom and tongue are truly beyond your years.I shall prepare your samples immediately."


    "Thank you Boaregous, and take care of my friends that have just arrived, they shall have the very first slices when the next batch is ready."


    I wasn''t making fun of Mr. Boar Baker, his name really is Boar, it''s just kinda the long version. But I don''t have the habit of butchering other''s names, even if it''s easier for me. It''s disrespectful. But maybe I can get away with calling him Mr. Boar as a nickname, surely others already do right?


    With all these ingredients we definitely have enough to serve out to the troops for an early dinner thing. I can have a bigger pool of taste testers to research which pizza is most popular here!


    I''m not sure how to market or sell pizza, in fact, I''m not sure it can feasibly make me money. But watching everyone excitably working together and enjoying this little piece of my home, my other world, well that''s enough for now. Everyone''s simple happiness, especially the kids, is more than enough for now.


    Ah, the pizza is ready!

 49 Till we meet again

    Gable is gone!!!


    Well, it''s not like he''s really gone but he''s gone! LEft back home to his little part of the woods! Mother, grampa and I had a terrible cry even before we left because we miss him so much already! This is one of the few things I just as venomously agree with Grampa on, Gable stay!


    But alas, my favorite person in this world is very well practiced on saying no. In fact, he told us all the calm down with the puppy eyes and that he will see us often enough anyways.


    I don''t remember that from the last life so no! Not acceptable! He must visit much much muuuuch more often. That or allow me to visit if I can find my way back of course.


    Despite his protests, we had a grand dinner for him on his last night with us, pizza included.


    Lukas'' secret relations is on the hush, even to the boy.So is his ''apprenticeship''. The others back in the troop know''s he''s being picked up for an apprenticeship but they don''t know for what or with who. Only Amar, who was there, knows and he''s amazingly good at keeping quiet when he wants to, not just for a child. Ah, it''s a little scary.


    Still, it''s a wonderful opportunity to be living with and learning under Gable of all people. Not just that but I think it will be good for both of them. Lukas for getting the caring guardian figure he''s never had, even if he doesn''t know it yet. And Gable, well for many reasonsI don''t know about. But it will be good for him, a blank slate of a child like Lukas will liven really liven things up for hi,.


    I don''t really know what sort of gift I can give to Gable, something that he doesn''t already have or can just easily get on his own. Despite his constant reassurance, I felt bad at only being able to offer him soap, even the nice limited stock ones. I threw in a lot of cold cream and the new shampoo bars I''ve been working on too. Things will be a lot harder without his magical touch to help speed things up.


    For Lukas, Amar and I gave him his going away gifts on his last night. A lot of things will be provided by Gable I''m sure but I knitted too large a beanie for myself and made it rollable for him to grow into.It even has a fluffy pom-pom at the end to hold an amulet charm. With Lilyanne and Gable''s help, I was able to enchantingly charge the common hat for added durability and warmth.


    Socks too, because he''s really bad at keeping his socks.


    Ice magic training has to be cold work right?


    Amar''s gift to him also not so surprisingly included new socks, though his looked to be crafted from some fluffy beast fur.


    "What''s with all the socks you guys!?"


    "Don''t destroy these ones too fast okay?"


    "I''m not that bad! Geez."


    His other much more noticeable gift was a small curved blade that looked useful for herb gathering or cutting off some vital arteries. Besides a colorfully stained wooden handle, it didn''t look particularly fancy but even I could tell it was made from quality metal. The awe on Lukas''s face confirmed that.


    "Take good care of it ok? There are wet stones and some oil and everything. "


    "I know Amar, I''ve seen you do it a thousand times....thanks."


    His short growing limbs flail and grip us into a little bear hug. It''s somehow not awkward at all, even though he hugs a little too tight. Ah how familiar, a group hug.... I haven''t had one in a very long time.


    "I''ll use your precious knife a lot ok Amar, and wear your hat when I''m out Rosalia. I''ll even try not to lose all your stupid socks!....Thanks, I never got presents from other kids before."


    His voice is too loud up close but I can hear a hidden sniffle behind it. Not Amar though, he doesn''t hide his wet tears at all and the group hug gets even tighter. After all this time in close contact with these kids, and being the size that I am, I can''t help but feel as if we become something like friends. I only hope the best for this hyperactive little boy.


    Did he get this in the last life? Can it compare with what he had with my cousin Phillip? Did he even meet Gable last time around? I don''t know, and I can''t find out. Gable is right, the past should stay in the past.


    I can only hope for a better future for everyone, myself included.


    And then Gable was gone, and so was my unexpected little friend.


    ----


    It''s not like I''m trying to be a busy bee. It just turned out that way. God damn it, didn''t I say I wanted to take it easy in this life?


    Well, it can''t be helped. Gotta work hard to build up that nest egg for when I fall into ruin and must flee this house. I feel like just turned into a middle-aged person working toward retirement.


    Since Lilyanne is fully recovered I''m free to live my lazy little life in the mansion as I please, as long as I go to bed normally. Can''t risk Lilyanne getting sick again, what a relief that the cure is something so easy! Funny, if they didn''t isolate us so much in the last life, the past Lilyanne wouldn''t have had to suffer so much. It really was my influence.


    Two years old really is too early for lessons, she should be practicing her cognitive and motor skills instead.Lilyanne isn''t capable of retaining any info yet and I have no time to play dumb. The academic tutors assigned to us basically are getting paid to do nothing.


    That won''t do, I hate wasting money.


    So yes, Lilyanne''s useless lessons are still going on- but they''re been sort of compromised. I never forced he tutors to teach my entire kitchen staff to speak, read and write properly. I simply have them on rotation to watch and observe.


    However, if those tutors are smart they''ll follow my unspoken orders and adjust accordingly to a kind of 101 level classes. Besides a few of the chefs and some older kitchen heads, none of the kitchen staff and common servants can really read. The literacy rate is an issue here!


    If the staff bring along their children too, well as long as they''re well behaved during ''classes'' it''s no issue. Homework is optional but for the most part, everyone seems to be taking it very seriously. Well, it''s understandable. free education is a rare and absurd idea here, especially in the workplace.


    If I know people it''s that they love free stuff.


    Hey, the employee benefits in the Ventrella''s household are really stacking up here.


    After organizing the company education of this household there are all my ''arts & craft'' experiments. Abigail''s record taking is actually very good for an illiterate little girl, she can only improve with my assignment of "attending to Lilyanne" for daily lessons.


    My soaps are not only well stored and organized but all accounted for in ledgers. We''re currently on batch 6 of soap and batch 2 of the new ''shampoo'' bars. It''s beginning to look and smell like a Lush store in here and the stock is only growing.


    I''m even working on an oil-based more typical bottled shampoo recipe as we speak.


    How much cold cream do we have? I don''t know! Alot? ERrrr we have recorded up to when I got Abigail that ledger when I came back.


    Most of the cold cream is given straight to mother. Not only is it for her personal use and beauty, but I''m also using her as the best kind of advertising. Mother really doesn''t have to do anything. She''s already the natural belle of the ball, or well whatever the event is. She''s popular, beautiful and generally very well regarded in society. Where could I get a better model?


    Despite what mass media and communications school taught me, the best advertising is really the lack of it. The most expensive luxury brands I remember would never carelessly stretch out their presence. Too much or the wrong type of exposure would cheapen their brand appeal.


    For now, I''ve asked her to stay absolutely quiet if anyone asks her on her beauty secrets. If any other noblewoman goes fishing for how her skin and hair are absolutely glowing, even without any cosmetics, she is to keep mysterious and elusive, even to her friends.


    After some more time, she may carefully gift a few jars to people of her choosing.


    Maybe send some to father''s side of the family? Especially grandma Bicchieri, now she''s a hard one to win over.As an act of goodwill? They''re filthy rich! I need to network here!


    This plan will really raise the value and demand for my ''cold cream''. I''m not kidding when I say I want to turn this thing into white gold. Once that luxury product line opens up I can safely and steadily trickle soaps and other products into the market.


    The surprising part is how well mother actually listens to me She even said:


    "This is a gift from my precious baby daughter! I know how much work you put into making mama these presents, of course, mama won''t give such important things away easily!"


    How odd?


    Well, mother has been acting odd since, well essentially after we went to the capital. But she must be feeling guilty or something after that whole ''Rosalia disappeared for 2 weeks into the deep dark woods'' thing.Yeah, Gable made it sound worse than it actually was.


    Also, it may be my imagination but I think she''s trying to get me to call her "mama" with the way she keeps speaking in 3rd person. How strange, she already has Lilyanne for that, doesn''t she?


    "Hmm maybe, but maybe she also wants to hear it from you? It''s nice to be called close things like that right?"


    "Ugh, you are definitely the wrong person to ask."


    "Eh? Why is that Rosalia?"


    I get knocked off my feet with a smart swing of his staff, ack damn it. My butt is small and the floor in this training area of the camp is cushioned but I still don''t like the taste of defeat. It''s not even a match, Amar is just nice enough to help me practice with my staff. So what if I chat rant a bit, though a simpler version, it''s stress-relieving. It''s also too brutal to fight with Tamera, ah can''t she be more gentle with lessons?


    "Again! And show me that one trick, with the twisting!"


    "Hmmmm I don''t know, what''s the magic word?"


    Well, normally one would expect the answer to be ''please''. But seeing as this person is somewhat of the same type as mother, the answer he wants to hear is ''big brother''. Which I am absolutely not doing.


    It''s much easier to just charge and attack.


    And while he does beat my little butt 100% of the time, the brat is too nice about it. He''s not so much beating me and he is gently poking me to tip over, what worse is he''s not even doing it in that infuriating way Lukas does. Ah, I wonder how Lukas is getting on?


    "Me too, I hope he''s getting along ok. He makes a lot of ruckuses but he''s actually pretty shy in new places.But Mr. Gable is very nice, even for an adult."


    "Gables the best, I miss him so much. Ack everything is so much messier without him. There are Lilyanne and grampa, and the soaps, and it''s messier with the staff part gone with reading lessons, then mama''s being weird and I don''t even know about -"


    "That is a lot, hey you did it. You called her mama!"


    "Slip of the tongue, now be nicer to me, I have a lot on my mind!"


    "But I don''t see how that has anything to do with practicing your staff? Eh, am I being ''not nice'' ?"


    "Oompf"


    And I''m smacked onto my butt again, ah a long-range weapon really is useful but only when you''re on the winning side. Still, I''m getting a lot better with sing staff type weapons sparring with someone closer to my own size. It also helps that Amar is easy to bully into teaching me much slower and easier compared to Tamera.


    Doesn''t mean the practice is actually easy though.


    "Are you still alive?" he pokes me with his stick when I finally stop getting back up.


    *huff "...No."


    "Okay then, do you want to get juice at the cafeteria?"


    *huff* "In a....minute..."


    While juice sounds absolutely divine right now, I''m still trying to catch my breath here.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Hey Rosalia."


    "?"


    I weakly wave my hand to show that I''m listening, just busy breathing.


    "They want me to go on another raid soon."


    "What already! Wow that''s a good thing isn''t it, that means whoever''s in charge approves of you."


    "Yeah...I guess."


    It should be a good thing, aren''t people constantly trying to get picked on raid team and campaigns to amass all sort of street cred? The possible loot, treasures, and money to be made from success from any beast or dungeon raid were also very very verrrry important. It''s not like they pay people in the training camp, well besides the instructors.


    But Amar sounds so uncertain about it. Shouldn''t he be jumping up and down at the honor and chance? Boys twice and 4 times his age would.


    "Are you going to go?"


    "...maybe."


    "Hey what''s wrong?"


    He stays quiet and goes creepily still. All of a sudden the kid feels distant, his presence nearly unnoticeable if he were not sitting right next to me. Institutionally I don''t dare look him in the face, especially not in the eye, not right now.


    "Hey, whatever it is you can tell me you know. I mean it''s only fair since I complain so much about myself....I won''t say anything."


    The awkward silence stretches but I leave him that time and space, even if it feels like sitting next to a ghost. Eventually, Amar lets out a breath I haven''t realized he was even holding.


    "They want me to go because it''s close to um, where I''m from. As a local, I''m useful. "


    He says ''useful'' with enough hopeful conviction to set me off, on what I don''t know yet. It''s just....not right.


    "Your homeland? Is it far away from here?"


    "Very."


    I don''t dare ask if he has family waiting for him still, it''s too risky, too insensitive.


    "Do you want to go back?"


    "...No, not really."


    A complicated past is nothing new to the member''s troops. Hell, a tragic backstory is almost a requirement for a lot of hers it seems.And this little brat seems to reek of one despite his easygoing cheerful exterior.


    Amar is actually pretty popular among the folks here, with adults and kids alike. Yet he sticks, or well stuck, so closely with Lukas of all people, who can be pretty abrasive. I don''t think I''m jumping to conclusions to think they''re both a certain level of .... complicated, to get along as well as they do. Birds of a feather after all.


    I wonder what that says about me.


    "Okay then. Don''t go. You left for a reason, so don''t go back."


    It should be as simple as that. But of course, things are never that simple.


    "I think ...I think maybe I will accept?"


    He sounds shocked like he doesn''t believe it himself either. If I leave him to it we really will just be sitting in silence.


    "Is it because Lukas left?"


    "No, I don''t think so? I''ll be useful and it''s not like it''s forever, just a raid. I''m not actually going back...home. Yeah, I''m not going back there exactly, and I''ll be with everyone, it will be ok. I think?"


    "What''s your favorite food!?"


    "Huh?"


    "Name your favorite food, or thing there or whatever!"


    Smooth Rosalia, much smooth. Sorry I just couldn''t take that terrible tense atmosphere anymore. The kid looked so damn sad and lost while trying to gather his thoughts, ah damn it. Where''s a professional therapist when you need one? Gable?!


    I only get a blank blink before Amar answers almost immediately.


    "Pizza. Pizza is my favorite food now."


    "Eh, the pizza we made?"


    "Yep!"


    Well, that''s not too unexpected, pizza is a crowd favorite. Besides he sounds much better than how he was earlier. The air around us seems much more relaxed now, good distraction Rosalia.


    "It''s funny actually, pizza is one of the reasons I think I can go."


    "Huh?I don''t get it, why would that be?"


    "It''s super good, but really...it made me miss that place a little bit. We don''t have your pizza but, it''s something similar."


    "A dish similar to pizza?"


    Oh now my curiosity is really on and Amar laughs at my sudden alertness. I can go on with food talk for hours.


    "No, not really. It''s like two dishes actually. It looked a lot like one thing and tasted kind of like another."


    "What! Tell me about them! And make it good!"


    I get off from my belly and get into a more comfortable pose ready for market research storytime, leg crossed.


    "Haha okay okay! One dish is almost all red because it''s hot tomato sauce. There are eggs cracked in and cooked whole and you eat it with bread and stuff. Not bread like the kind here, but a lot like some of the pizza bread. "


    "You mean it''s flat? Unleavened?"


    "Yeah, a lot of it is flat or it''s really big and fluffy and you have to pull it and share with a lot of people. The other dish that tasted a lot like pizza is also flat bread, but the sauce is really thick and full of minced up spicy meat. No cheese though, but that''s another bread! And the cheese tastes really good grilled whole. "


    "Are you sure pizza is your favorite? The stuff you''re talking about sound really good not going to lie."


    Flatbread? Whole egg and tomato sauce baked dish? My 21st-century mind comes up with images of pita like loaves of bread and Shakshouka, which was really popular at brunches and in social media photos on the internet. It really is yummy.


    "Yep! But I do miss some things a bit more. Like cinnamon! I hear it''s super expensive so I never had it again here but back home it''s not expensive at all and was everywhere. We had this soft rice and milk sweet with lots of cinnamon and it''s not my favorite but.."


    He sounds a lot better than before and I think that maybe Amar really will be okay stepping into wherever this raid will be. I half-listen to him go on with his childish but detailed descriptions.


    I imagine it though, a place where the people look like him, all easy airy beach curls and easier smiles. Everywhere the place smells like cinnamon, spice and grilling flatbread that children can still get excited for.


    If it''s a place like that then I think things really will be ok.

 50 Lets Get This Bread

    Every other Friday is pizza day at the camp''s cafeteria.


    A riot really did form on that day we first made pizza for Luka''s impromptu going away pizza party. It was absolutely amazing.


    To appease the angry crowd of unsatisfied diners who weren''t able to get some pizza, we made it again the following week. As fun as it was, making pizza every week is too inconvenient, and I fear people will get bored. Now every other Friday is now pizza day.


    Though it''s not really called Friday here, in fact, there are no names for days of the week. It goes by numbers, which makes Friday the 6th.


    That is a reasonable schedule to gather supplies and keep the regular cafeteria menu from changing too much. It''s also a good practice rate for all the cooks and bakers.


    Communication and rotation between the Ventrella kitchen staff and the cafeteria are better than ever. At this point, they''re essentially the same shop but two different locations. We''ll be able to double as a professional pizzeria in no time at all! Steady progress and stable successful results are more important.


    From the results of the not so secret survey, I can conclude the top pizza doughs we will be focusing on. I wish to improve and finalize it down to an original and thin-crust version of two types of Pizzas. Both would be restaurant quality but are based on my memories of''authentic'' European style and the larger more shareable American styles.


    Toppings are a story for another day- I don''t know, whatever you guys want. Free choice is a thing. Eventually, I''m going to crave wild pizzas like California bbq, Japanese seafood cream, and all that but that''s a topic for the future.


    First I have to find those ingredients, shame.


    Oh great, now I''m craving more things that don''t exist in this world! There''s definitely no Japanese food here! Even the rice is the wrong kind.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    *sigh*


    Well, back to the matter on hand for today. We have all the ''rejects'' yeasts and doughs saved up.But just because they''re not suitable for the final versions of pizza doesn''t mean they''re absolutely useless. I had them carefully sampled and saved away for reasons.


    To make more types of bread!


    Understandably, the world is just recovering after some very devastating times for humanity. Luxurious such as food culture and development have obviously been put on the back burner.


    For the most part, people eat hard dark bread, usually made from various types of whole grains. Like the dinner rolls served in the cafeteria!


    Nobles can afford the much more expensive processed white flour and thus eat ''white'' bread. It''s a social status thing. Such a pattern was common in every milled grain society prior to industrialization.


    Funny how things reversed, I''m used to plain white wonder bread being cheap while whole-grain ones are ''artisanal'' and much more expensive. Both are good but I do relish in eating these more ''artisanal'' more commonly, it''s healthier for you.


    But in this world, they all taste the same! The same basic hard bread that you either eat fresh or soften with stew! I''m going insane in the mundaneness of it! I''m not used to such a static menu, as tasty as it is. I want variety.


    My last talk with Amar also got me thinking about flat breads. Pita bread isn''t hard to make, neither is naan. I also find myself craving savory Chinese pancakes or roti.


    Then there are all the ''reject'' yeasts with the potential to make some good sourdoughs. None of these things are particularly difficult to make!


    I still don''t get how such simple recipes aren''t already widespread. Yet I can''t really complain, I''m from a much different world. That''s like a tourist coming in and complaining why things in a different place aren''t like their home, absolutely unreasonable. I suppose the previous generations of rampant death and destruction really put a hamper on any sort of human progress.


    Back to some lighter topic, say bread!


    I get to visit my favorite ovens much more often now.


    Lilyanne and I are visiting the camp at a much greater frequency than before, to the delight of grampa. Even if mother isn''t too fond of our trips, she knows how beneficial it is for Lilyanne. While she''s not at risk over any magical overdose with me around, the less pooled mana there is inside her the better for now. Besides the more Lilyanne practices ''charging'' things, the better her foundations are for controlling her magic. She''s too young to get it just yet.


    Gable and uncle Geoff have also already assured mother of our safety, and so regular trips with grampa have been established. We even got to shake off the maids from accompanying us any further!


    Good riddance.


    Lilyanne really is too small, she has no sense of control at all. More often than not my baby sister tends to magically zap herself empty and falls dead asleep promptly right after.She''s not in any danger of depletion, not with her Dawn blessing doing whatever it is to make her a live battery. But she is a pretty hilarious sight when she passes out, not so much because of her.


    No, the hilarious part is my ridiculous grampa. Instead of putting her to bed as a normal person would do, he straps her in a baby sling. Then he walks around like that for the rest of the time till she wakes up, oftentimes even after.It''s something they both obviously enjoy.


    What an idiotic pair of grandparent and grandchild.


    During this time I''m free to run off and do whatever I please. Well...not exactly, but no one has stopped me yet so that''s good enough for me. That and I refuse to be strapped like a baby monkey to the much bigger grampa monkey, I''m not even sleepy this early in the day!


    I''m not saying the kitchens are the place you''re most likely to find me but the garrison camp is just so large and there are so many departments.


    It''s a slightly better chance to guess I''d be there more often than not when I''m not getting my little butt whipped. Not literally.


    Those things hurt I''m learning the hard way, but not that hard. I''m just really sore from Tamera''s devil drills. Ow ow ow still sore, I better be a hella buff and strong kid after this


    Didn''t I say back to bread? Enough with unpleasant topics!


    The marvelous superheated ovens behind the cafeteria that was so perfect for making pizza are also ideal for baking pita bread. Judging from the flour local to this region, it makes more sense to choose pita. I really am surprised this easy to make bread isn''t already a thing in this area, it''s much faster and more cost-effective to make compared to full on bread rolls.


    But pita requires a real brick or similar oven to really get right. It''s more than alright for the troops in camp but for everyone else outside or traveling, well there''s the issue.


    I wanted to figure out which sort of easy food staple I could introduce to the common people. Rice is alright but local taste mainly relies on wheat and bread. I highly doubt I can prevent the ''mini'' famines to come but if I can increase people''s preparedness and options, it could help.


    The first wave of famine that I can recall came the harvest before Lilyanne''s and mine''s 2nd baptism. In this and nearby lands, children receive a second baptism at the age of 5. It is at this age that children are deemed closer to thinking working adults. They''re no longer simple babies to be protected and are able to make their own choices, even seeking employment and apprenticeships. Yes, that means child labor is a thing here and yes it legally starts at age 5.


    If it''s any comfort to my modern sensibilities it''s a limited system and you''re not considered a legal adult until the age of 16. Which is still very much awful.


    "Are you kneading the dough or beating it up?" deadpanned George, my most favored hands and feet.


    "Hmmm, both! Yes, both works. I''m building my arm strength this way."


    "Oh I see, in that case perhaps we should invite more troop members to be on mixing and kneading duty in here.Yes, just get everyone to beat bread for their arm muscle exercise."


    "Huh, actually..."


    "I was kidding!"


    George is just joking but that actually doesn''t sound like a very bad idea. Don''t folks who misbehave get vegetable peeling duty and dishwashing as punishments?


    I see Mr. Boar twitch nearby, I think he''s honestly considering it.


    George is a young teen, on the cusp of legal adulthood around here. Getting out of the mansion''s kitchens is good for him, even if it''s just, oh say another different kitchen. Despite what the laws say here you are far from growing up! Expand your world young man!


    Huh, I wonder if the raids crew take chefs with them?


    "Meh, I''ll take this over dishwashing any day. Shit to scrub that gross shit." grumbles another young teen.


    The boy named Yuna is not in any trouble right now, I just dragged him along with pita baking. That and I like his appearance and am using him to test my products. I don''t have a guinea pig this pretty yet! Yuna may be a blond but his golden tanned skin and facial features, exotic to this land, makes him a whole new market in diversity.


    I do realize it looks like I''m beginning to gather a teen harem of guinea pigs, after all, there''s Abigail too. Teenagers are just the perfect test subject with their hormonal breakouts and such and now I have such a range.


    Does Yuna get a choice in this? Kinda but absolutely not, I asked his squad leader and grampa. This grump cat guinea pig is one of mine now. It''s fine, he barks more than he bites and he gets paid in his now favored shampoo bars and extra food. Teens sure are hungry creatures.


    We just need to make the food now.


    "Are we really not using any yeast starter in this?" questions George.


    "Not in this one no, it''s supposed to be fast and easier to prepare. "


    "Really?"


    "Really!"


    He gives me a long and hard look even when he knows the correct answer with me. Is unleavened bread really that hard of a concept here? It should be even easier without yeast!


    "Just get to cookin so I can eat already!" complains Yuna.


    Ah, teenagers really are so adorable with their hormones and emo phases.


    The ovens are full baking pitas and some other leavened flat bread experiments. The dough without yeast that we''re mixing right now is for grilling outside the ovens. They''re supposed to be a fast easy to make bread you can cook on a pan or a hot plate. With this not only do I hope to spread another deterrent to future famine when there''s not enough bread to go around, but it would make some convenient fresh food for the troops while they''re on the road. Dried biscuits really get tiring I''m sure.


    Some of the flat breads cook faster than others it''s interesting to note.


    I hold out plates to the finished ones and bring them to my taste tester. No, my main test tester is not me, though I will most certainly be stuffing my face without a doubt. I need an expert but local opinions here, not just things that cater to my own taste.


    I''m too biased and from another world.


    "Okay dig in!" I exclaim.


    The youngest in the room, beside me, rips into the hot off the griddle roti without even a flinch. How? Monsters.


    "The chewiness is really good. It''s not the same but it is better than the ''pita'' bread from before. I like this one a lot more."


    "Well get ready to taste more pita then because they are different."


    "Um okay, I guess."


    "Thank you very much."


    He gives a bashful little smile and it''s not just me in the room blinking away the bright cuteness. With Amar''s rating out of the way everyone can rip and try the finished unleavened roti bread. More ''roti'' style flatbreads are already grilling while waiting for the ones in the oven.


    "It''s good but it''s also really plain without anything to dip." piped up Amar, mouth still half full of roti.


    "I forgot the dip!"


    That''s right, plain flat breads like pita are meant to be eaten with things. Well, any carb should be eaten with other things otherwise it gets boring. Umm there''s always olive oil and vinegar? And can we get some cheese and stuff?


    "What else?"


    "Umm..."


    The boy looks around nervously. While I know he''s not shy the sight of chefs and bakers surrounding a single kid notes out ready to write down his every word it a little intimidating. I mean I''m used to such behavior since that''s what they do to me but right now Amar is center attention. He'' the test taster and final judge of our flatbread experiments.


    "No worries, just say anything you think."


    "Ummm, it really is delicious...and everyone did a great job."


    " Don''t worry about hurting anyone''s feelings Amar! We can''t improve without an honest opinion!"


    Even without me motioning everyone agrees though they don''t back off from him any. Let''s give the kid some breathing room.


    "Just spit it out already, that''s what I do." half mumbles and grumbles Yuna, though that''s more due to him stuffing his face with roti than anything.


    Dipping in a sauce of any kind really does accentuate the taste of fresh bread. I can taste the difference already with some simple garlic and anchovies mix.


    Huh, the roti is more popular than pita. I didn''t expect thatIs it the oil the roti was grilled with to prevent sticking? Fried stuff does taste good.


    "Okay then, if everyone is okay with that."


    "We are! Be brutally honest! It''s an insult to every chef here if you lie!"


    "Okay, umm for the ''roti'' , when you get it up it''s usually not...plain. People back home would sprinkle it with stuff like seeds or paste-like sauce. Or they brush it with more seasoned oil while flipping and cooking."


    "Do you brush and sprinkle seeds both sides?"


    "Um sometimes, but not if you stuff it first. "


    "Wait wait wiat you can stuff the dough beforehand?"


    "With the herbs or with filling? Like a meat pie?"


    "Um..er ...both? I mean there''s herbed bread alone but why does the meat filing have no herbs? I always wondered about that. Wait I forgot, herbs are expensive here, nevermind."


    "No no go on Amar, don''t hold anything back. We can definetely use local herbs, no problem." I encourage.


    Whatever place he''s from seems to have a better market on seasoning. I can smell is now, land of cinnamon and people actually flavoring their food. I wonder if they have chili?


    Seeing his more reserved nature the cooks are much softer with Amar than with me. With his shyness, they''re even more encouraging and patient as they react and write down noted and potential cooking tips. They''re actually treating him more like the baby here when I''m the younger one.


    Well, not really since I''m well...me. It all works out!


    "The 4th and 5th ovens are ready." shouts a kitchen hand a distance away.


    "Great, bring a sample of each different type here. And start brushing more oil on the roti! Do we have roasted seeds?"


    "Already on it my lady!"


    It''s a good thing Amar is a growing boy with an appetite because he''s literally going to have to eat some of every bread. And this is a lot we have baking and grilling here.


    The life of a taste tester sure is tough but I think he''ll live.


    "The white one is really weird but the shape is familiar. I think it''s baked right?"


    "The lavash? How about the taste?"


    "It''s too...white? But it''s not fluffy enough and it bites wrong."


    "Hmmm needs a different flour then, everyone got that?"


    "Um how many ''pitas'' do I have to eat?"


    The crowd of cooks and trainees continues their notes. Someone gets Amar another juice before he chokes on the sheer amount of bread that he''s somehow downing. To be fair Yuna is thriving in the leftover carbs but he''s a healthy preteen.


    The tasting continues to the point I lose all track of time. I''m only shocked out of research and bread mode when I hear a familiar but out of place voice by the door.


    "So this is where my mischievous little daughter has been missing her meals and running off to."


    "Huh? Father? What are you doing here."


    It''s not unheard of for father to visit the Garrison grounds. He can wield a sword pretty decently and knows many of the older faces here. Though I know he prefers the expensive shotguns that seem absolutely primitive by my standards. He even showed up last Friday for pizza and enjoyed himself immensely.


    It''s just very odd for him to show up out of the blue, very out of character. Sure he''s been taking a lot more time off from court but then shouldn''t he be at home with mother? The funny thing is that he is dressed for court through his auburn hair and fancy clothes are slightly askew as if he rushed over here in a hurry.


    "Can''t a man check up on his darling little trouble making spawn?"


    Well, that''s one way of putting it.Rude but he''s not wrong, I''m no Lilyanne. There''s an odd bite to his words though. His mouth is smiling but his eyes sure aren''t as he stares straight at ...slightly left of me?


    It''s just people tasting bread and taking notes around Amar though. Did father feel left out on the fun? He always did have a fascination for strange ''commoner'' things. Is he interested in the flatbread? There''s plenty to go around.


    "Uh, sure? Is it time for me to go home or do you want some to try some flat bread too?"


    I rip off a cooled down attempt at chapati bread and hold it out to him in a peace offering. I hope it''s not really time to go yet.


    With that, whatever strange tenseness seems to evaporate out of him. He perks up and when he makes his way over, takes over my seat and places me on his lap. He even eats the chapati directly from my hand like a petting zoo animal!


    "Not bad, is that garlic baked on there? I still liked pizza better though."


    But he eats the bread and is otherwise well behaved. As long as I feed it to him he eats it without any issue, really very obedient. If only he was like this all the time.


    My father is a confusing man, I have figured out over time. Much much very much more complicated and difficult to figure out than in the last life. The previous Rosalia was either afraid of him or desperate for his attention, meanwhile, I''m just always in some state of confusion about him.


    Sometimes he seems mad, others time playful. This father has a whole range of emotions and expressions that makes him very human. Which shouldn''t be as odd as it feels, dads are people too. Even if they''re the father of a villainess.I suppose it''s because I can judge from a better perspective and the fact we have an unintentionally closer relationship than the last time.


    The strangest part is when he feels....like a dad? Like a plain old lame and very caring ...dad. It feels commonplace but it''s not, not really. I''m far from home and this isn''t ''my'' dad, it''s not even Rosalia''s.


    It''s disorienting.


    I can''t ever recall him being like that, not in my memories, not even towards Lilyanne. It makes me wonder if maybe this father of mine is also a different soul. That or maybe the past Rosalia never really knew her parents, not as people at least...


    Wait!


    I said no more unpleasant thoughts, not in front of the bread! No no no this is my happy place outside of Gable''s Hobbit house, none of that nonsense allowed.


    Father isn''t causing any fuss as long as I don''t make to move out of his lap and the cooks have calmed down from his sudden appearance. Fresh flatbread is still coming, my taste tester isn''t full just yet and the kitchenhands have brought more dippable condiments to avoid getting tired of the taste. There''s no issue to be had here. Back to what''s really important!


    In the end, layered roti grilled bread remains most popular but a few recipes of the high temperature baked pitas got rave reviews. There''s also the plus that no one got food poisoning! That''s a successful round of experiments in my book. Though no one seems to need dinner any more either.


    It''s another strange but productive day in this otherwise peaceful little life of mine. A tasty one too.


    -----

 51 A memory does what?

    Hello, imaginary audience in my head!


    It''s Plusle and Minun here!


    By that I mean it''s Lilyanne and I and it''s magical charging time. Rawr Rawr cheer, I don''t know what I''m doing but it must be doing something.


    I really can''t feel anything but it looks like that if I concentrate on pushing at the same time as Lilyanne, the magical charge is more effective and her control is better. Again I''m not sure how it works, this is just what they''re telling me.


    Even if it doesn''t it makes Lilyanne happy so whatever.


    It feels stupid just pushing with my imagination so I make it slightly less stupid by pretending I''m a fictional electrical rat. The mental image somehow works apparently.


    Rosalia use ''Light Screen'', buff up!Lilyanne, spam that ''Thunderbolt''! Back to me, Rosalia use ''Helping Hand''! Now everyone, use ''Volt Charge''!


    I feel like a legitimate child playing pretend but the mental image is much more interesting than staring at Lilyanne or this blank stone. Pokemon is for all ages ok, even the confused reborn sort of people.


    Today we''re taken to charge a certain ruin looking plaza with a stone arch. It looks sort of like a giant gazebo, a much nicer more complicated version of stone henge.


    Gable must have had a hand in this place because it''s somehow hidden in the training camp. This entire camp is really funny, it''s much bigger on the inside of its walls but even there there''s so many twists and hidden buildings. This strange gazebo courtyard is just one of them.


    Without grampa or someone us leading, I would have never found this place on my own. There''s definitely Gable''s illusion magic involved in masking all the hidden places and space distortion in the camp.


    We took a few days off from charging anything to let loose on this baby. According to uncle Geoff, this is one of those kinds of things that''s incredibly difficult to fuel, money or not. We''ve been here once before but just like the pillars deep underground it zapped out everything from Lilyanne with no sign of being sated.


    After that we let Lilyanne take a long break with some light practice on armor and weapons. It was to some very specific people and mass materials so I think it''s for a raiding crew leaving soon.


    Like an old school gaming guild, there''s multiple raids and outings going on at once. The one that Amar said he''ll be going on a small to medium-sized informational scouting mission prior to a planned raid. The talk of spices interests me much more than a potential dungeon excursion though, no offense.


    I somehow convinced a few of the cafeteria chefs about what a good idea it would be to tag along. There''s more than a few capable sorts of folk in the kitchens. Mr. Boar didn''t immediately yell or stop the talks so that''s a good sign. Besides I can''t be the only one to be excited over the prospect of cheap foreign herbs and spices.


    For that reason, I managed to gather coins, actual physical bags of money!


    It was actually quite easy asking mother for allocated funds. Much easier than I originally thought. She didn''t even grill me on why but I told her truthfully anyways how I wanted the chefs to buy me some foreign ingredients when they''re off accompanying the scouting raid teams.


    Then something odd happened.


    ----------


    The day before:


    "Oh that''s just funds, the staff will be able to take care of that don''t worry. We''ll be sure to give the cooks some extra spending money too, don''t worry about that. But of course, here''s a little something for you too my darling. "


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Thank you mother....mother is this the chefs'' funds too?"


    "Why it''s yours silly, my little girl I know you''re very kind and love to share but this is all yours. If you give money out too freely bad people will come and try to cheat you."


    "...I see."


    "Remember Rosa, you must not let bad people try to trick you even if they look friendly. "


    Well maybe don''t give a kid so much money then! That just leaves them vulnerable!


    What is this!?


    It''s a whole velvet purse stuffed full of coins, I feel like a robbed and old school bank! Is this normal or does a born rich person like mother just not understand the concept of monetary value! Who just leaves kids with this much money?


    Really I don''t get rich people at all.


    Something like a memory regurgitates itself up while I stare at the overwhelmingly large amount of cash.


    Something that looks suspiciously like this very scene but it''s not. It''s Rosalia, just as sharp-eyed but a little older, more extravagantly dressed, standing before her mother. I can''t hear them but this Rosalia is asking for something, I can feel her nerves as if they were my own.


    This mother, just as beautiful in my memory as she is now,claps her hands in mild surprise. The servants, previously hidden in the background arrive with bags upon bags of money. At least 5x the ridiculous amount, I''m holding now.


    The maids by the child Rosalia''s side take the money, the dresses, the ribbons and all those things I don''t even know where they all came from. Neither does that Rosalia and she looks on in anticipation, this is not what she wants not what she came for. She near crumbles down into herself but holds still and curtsies gracefully.


    When the maids finish receiving the money and more, mother, that mother, makes the steps over to pat the other Rosalia''s head.


    It''s such a simple gesture but she blooms under it.


    Was this what that child was all anxious for? A little touch?


    Mother''s lips move, I think there is soundcoming out.


    "Don''t spend it all in one place now sweetie....Rosa? .... Rosalia, can you say something for me? Rosa are you alright? Rosa!? Rosa what''s wrong! Rosa can you answer me, can you hear me?!"


    It takes me more than a moment to snap out of the daydream, the memory, I seem to have fallen in. I hadn''t realized when that time and this one blended into one and separated. Talk about deja-vu, what an odd way to zone out.


    "...mama?"


    "Rosa!"


    Where the mother in the dream, the memory, had merely patted that Rosalia''s hair, this one was on her knees. Her hand frantically rubbing and patting all over my face and body as if to check for injuries.


    "Oh thank goodness, yes what is it my darling? Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?It''s not the magical runoff from your sister is it?!"


    "What happened?"


    "Darling you just were standing there, staring and not responding. It was like you coudln''t see or hear me. Rosalia, are you feeling alright?"


    I know the answer I''m supposed to say, it''s "I''m fine" or some other coherent enough response. It surprises me then, to hear the wrong words come out of my mouth.


    "...I don''t know."


    "Oh dear,call for the doctor! Oh my baby."


    "Yes my Lady."


    The accompanying maids are sent to make the arrangements and I''m scooped into mother''s suffocating chest before I can escape in time. But for some reason, my body doesn''t want to resist at all.Not to my mother''s touch. How weird, I''m not normally so...needy? I''m not sure.


    That particular memory must have shaken this body of mine up. But I really am okay though.


    "Ack no I meant I''m fine, really. You can let me go now."


    "Oh no you don''t darling, to bed and we''ll have the doctor take a look at you. I knew something wasn''t right, you never call me mama unless you''re unwell. "


    "What, no. Look ''mama'' I''m really fine. Thank you for the allowance. I''ll be good and won''t spend it all."


    "I just knew it, to bed dear."


    "Mother!"


    -------


    And that''s how I spent my day under house arrest with mother standing guard. No sneaking out possible. I really am fine, it''s just the memories from the past sometimes gets to me oddly. This one was weirder than usual to zone me out like that.


    Normally no one witnesses it when I do but unfortunately, mother had to see that episode.


    I don''t even know where they come from or what triggers them.


    With enough of pleading and reassurance from grampa I got out to make the charging trip today. Maybe the requests for money wasn''t really that easy but hey, not a bad price to pay. Half a day od awkward fussed over bed rest for the stacked purse mother gave me. The amount inside was more than enough to feed two small families for a year.


    She said don''t spend it all in one place but where else will I spend it on? I don''t go anywhere but grampa''s garrison camp. I suppose it wouldn''t hurt to tuck the physical money away for a rainy day. I don''t expect to be run out of the household for another couple years but it would be smart to save up early.


    Still, I think it''s more important to make investments and raise favor at this stage.


    After zapping the stone pavilion with all that we got, Lilyanne fell into her usual nap and I rushed off on my missions of the day.


    "Wait right there my little hero hopeful." shouts grampa overly dramatically as always.


    What is with the nicknames? I don''t know where he gets the impression I want to be a hero like him? I''m not OP enough for that kind of thing. Besides, it''s too much work and I''m lazy.


    *sigh* "What is it now grampa?"


    U-turning back I''m greeted with the sight of him slinging a dozing Lilyanne up into his chest. Possibly the world''s safest place to take a nap. I am very careful to not nap or fall asleep around grampa lest he put me up there too.


    "Such a lovely little grumpy face, it wounds me so. Did Gable teach you that?"


    "No grampa, this is my usual face."


    "I swear you''re getting more Gable like since you came back"


    I''ll take that as a compliment, who wouldn''t when compared to their favorite person. But no I''m not copying him, rather I''m just more free about showing more of myself. I''m not particularly grumpy in my opinion but I was never a naturally patient sort of person.


    That and with Gable''s talks and reassurance I''m a not less likely to be cowering and playing nice and dumb in from grampa. Don''t get me wrong, the old man is still scary as hell but he''s also just so ridiculous it''s hard to be reverently fearful of him all the time.


    I once gave the man a knitted headband, a spare that I made for fun, but with cat ears and cutesy bow. He seriously wore it for 4 days straight.


    How do you stay scared of a man like that? Also, Gable''s stories helped.


    "Well turn that frown upside down because I come bearing letters and gifts!"


    See it''s pretty hard to stay cowering in his presence though I''m definitely not brave enough to slap away the oversized hands pinching my cheeks. Ow ow ow my face is baby soft and squishy, stop rearranging my mouth already! I admit you''re scary grampa, very very scary but for an even more fearful reason than I previously thought.


    "Okay! I''m smiling, seeeeeee. Please, my cheeks."


    The old brute gives my poor face a little pat and pulls out two packages from thin air. They''re not very large and wrapped in a plain brown twine and look plain but the pressed green leaves decorated on top tells me they''re from Gable.


    My mood improves drastically.


    "Now that''s a much cuter face from you, I should be jealous."


    "Grampaaaaaa."


    "Alright alright, put them away in your bag for later. It''s not only from Gable but your little friend Lukas too. The larger package is for your other little pal when you run into him."


    "Oh? For Amar?"


    "Yes! It''s very cute, the kid finally got his first ice stones made and charged. Wanted his friends to have them. Keeps you nice and cool for summer."


    "So he and Gable are good?"


    "Great! Gable complains all the time but he loves having the kid follow him around the house. It''s just adorable! He''s like a duckling! Keeps it lively when I''m not there."


    I can see that actually, they would balance each other out despite their differing personalities and if there''s anything Lukas can do it''s livening things up. I mean just looks at grampa and Gable, they might as well be night and day and they''re somehow BFFs.


    Hey, wait a minute-


    "So you have been visiting Gable without me!"


    Gramps bends down with the packages and drops them into my waiting arms. His overbearing grin is awful and I can''t avoid it when he double pinches my cheeks again.


    " Mayyyyybe, whatcha going to do about it?"


    "No fair, I hwate yuu."


    "Aww I love you too. Now don''t get into anything too dangerous or cook up all the ingredients in the kitchens again. See you by dinner time!"


    My poor cheeks! Ow my face! I scamper off as fast as my tiny legs take me the moment grampa releases his pinching hold.


    I swear he doesn''t abuse Lilyanne so much!


    ------

 52 A package

    The packages go straight into my little interdimensional bag, which I have since knitted a much cuter cover over. As curious as I am business comes first, besides, it wouldn''t be fair to Amar if I opened it first since this is the first time Lukas sent us anything.


    As much as Grampa teases, I''m sure he''s telling the truth. The two long lost relatives are getting along well, as vastly different as their personalities are.


    But hey Gable and Grampa are the absolute best friends and look at their opposite personalities. How funny, Lukas could be like their secret lovechild with both their traits. Now that''s a horrifying yet hilarious mental picture.


    Anyways the first stop is Vincent!


    I feel like I''m neglecting the scrawny young necromancer. Didn''t I say I''d be his patron and jumpstart his career and research? So far I''ve only been hinting at some cheats and recipes, speeding up research he or time would have figured out eventually. Now with actual money I can become a legitimate patron.


    Research is expensive, I don''t know the specifics but research and such works are always expensive. It''s not like I can pay the guy in soap forever, though he does appreciate them. As expected from my memories of his future self, he likes to keep himself and his material as clean as possible.


    I make my way to where he''s usually set up his station.


    "Hey there brat, here to get another lesson on butt whooping?"


    "Good morning Ms. Tamera! Not today, in Vincent inside his lab as usual?"


    "Huh, Vinny might be out grabbing some books or something, don''t remember where though. He should be back before the sun gets too hot knowing him."


    "That''s alright then, could I just leave this with you then? It''s for his research and well, yeah."


    Tamera nods with a grimace but takes the basket I prepared beforehand with no issue. Sometimes the materials the necromancer works with it a little....unsavory. I don''t mind but it''s probably because I haven''t seen the worse of them like Tamera no doubt has. Rumor has it she once crushed and burned a package of his because it was a brood of hatching spider-like insects.


    My basket is safe though, it''s just plain soap and some dried herbs I ordered on his behalf. There''s a few coins in there this time as well, not too much but a nice subsidy.


    "There''s some more of the ''exfoliating'' soap for you too Tamera, this one is oatmeal so tell me how it works out."


    "Aww gee thanks brat. Seriously, is it really okay to keep taking this stuff? I asked around and that kind of bars you gave me last time could sell for a pretty penny. "


    "Yes it''s fine! It''s not like I give them to everyone so please just tell me how they work for you!"


    "Haha if you say so, I say the second to last one worked best for getting dried blood out."


    I may be using as much of ''my'' people as possible as test subjects. It''s good to have diversity. By the way, Tamera has healthy thick skin while Vincent is an oily combination teenager.


    Before I had money all I had was soap. That and my skincare, they''re literally my only asset in stock Not unless I start charging for pizza and bread. So skincare and food are all I have to raise favors with people, yes just like an old school dating sim game. Just give people stuff and slowly get my likability up. It''s no way to really make friends but it sure doesn''t hurt, besides it''s not like I''m wooing anyone.


    "By the way Ms Tamera, do you have any idea where Amar went off to today? Grampa gave us a package from Lukas."


    She ponders for a moment before pointing to a large building to the west.


    "Good timing then. Kid should be getting his final supplies done and checked with, scouting raid leaves by tonight."


    "What? Tonight?"


    That''s the first I heard of it. Why so soon and why head out at night?


    Tamera sees the confusion on my face and clarifies with what she knows.


    "Yeah to account for the time difference. They''re not being stingy with this scouting raid and are using a portal to transport the team most the way there. Sweet right? Saves a good couple months of traveling.That way though they''ll get there and start setting camp up by noon there. They gotta work fast since I hear it gets as hot as a Grambbler''s ass-"


    "Language Tamera!"


    "Oh hey Vinny, when did you get back."


    "For god''s sake in front Rosalia?"


    "Hey wait a fuc-"


    "Nope. "


    I''d watch and join in on their banter but I now have a package to deliver and the clock is ticking. If it''s really as hot as something''s asshole where they''re going then a cooling ice stone would definitely be useful.


    No real guarantee how good but hey it''s the thought that matters.


    The warehouse building is bustling but orderly as people check over and grab last minute things they need. It takes me a few rows of wandering but I catch a familiar child with three other people looking over inventory stock. Since the abacus is out I assume they''re counting and calculating.


    Wait why are they making a kid count and do math? Doesn''t this mission, even if it''s just scouting, a little more important for a child''s play.


    "Whatcha doing?"


    "Oh crap! Shit kid you scared us, coming out of nowhere."


    "That''s the Lord Commander''s kid''s kid to you."


    "So, she still scared the crap outta us."


    "Hi Rosalia!"


    Amar waves from the stacked boxes he''s sitting on, undisturbed. I can see the ledger in front of him and confirm that yes he really is doing the math on whatever it is.


    "May I borrow Amar for a moment, I know you''re leaving soon but Lukas sent a package."


    "Oh nice, how is his apprenticeship going?"


    "I''m not sure but hear from grampa it''s going well."


    "Nice nice, an apprenticeship away will do the kid good. Go ahead and see what you got Amar. Just be back to check if dunceface here made any mistakes."


    "Hey!"


    "Okay, thank you. I''ll be back."


    The crew of men I don''t know the names of bicker but get back to work while Amar quickly neatened up his space and hops down the boxes like a certain cat in boots. I lead us outside to the side where it''s less stuffy but still private enough for me to pull out the package from my space.


    "Were they really making you do their math?" I question.


    "Well, just the checking part. Sometimes Gorden makes mistakes so I catch them and redo it."


    "But aren''t you like- "Too young I mean, hypocritical of me I know.


    "It''s okay, I just count really fast!"


    Okay whatever, he says it so casually that I just let it go. Sure make the dopey 5-year-old do inventory, nothing weird here in this place of monsters.


    I pull out the two packages with a flourish, excited to finally be opening it.


    "Ta da!"


    "Wah so pretty, is it really from Lukas and sir Gable?"


    "That''s what grampa told me, anyways we open them at the same time ok. On my count - 1 -2- and 3!"


    And I''m off. Initially, after untying the twine I wanted to just rip into the package but I saw how nice and neat Amar was trying to open up his package and stalled myself. It would be a waste to ruin Gable''s pretty pressed herbs and decoration.


    Inside my box, I saw a fat letter addressed to me in Gable''s elegant script and stored that back away for later. The messy scrawling note was more likely than not from Lukas. It was short and explained basically what grampa had told me about getting his first ice stones forged and charged. That was interesting, I didn''t know they could be forged or made.


    The small stone was polished smooth with a braided leather string hooking through it so that it sat like a pendant. It wasn''t only cold to the touch but let out a refreshing air. In my box, there was also a nice crochet pair of little sandals, probably done by Gable himself, and some dried candied fruit. Everything was lined in bunches of nice smelling herbs and on the bottom, perhaps out of spite from a certain someone there was a pair of socks


    Amar''s package was also similarly lined and packaged with herbs but his was larger and thus filled with more items. He also received a dark leather corded necklace but with a slightly larger and bulkier ice stone. Putting it on instantly relieved one of the approaching summer heat and the stuffiness of the warehouse air.


    Not bad Lukas, not bad at all. I think I understand a lot better why charged these rocks is such a big deal.


    There was also a share of the same candied fruit but there''s where the similarities ended.


    Inside his pack was an interesting pair of goggles with a shimmery coating over the eyes and a tin of some sort of medicinal smelling salve. In addition, there was also an appropriately kid-sized and probably enchanted hooded cloak in a dark green that Gable typically wore.


    As that sort of girl, I am glad to note that the cloak has buttons and lots of inner pockets. Very nice.


    Out of the same spite, I''m sure, socks were also included in Amar''s very full box.


    "Is this embroidered?" Amar asked, waving out the nicely made cloak.


    It looks tighter and far more durable than my own handmade weatherproof bear cloak. The stitching flowed subtly in a darker green the weaves around the hem like a lush climbing vine. Definitely Gable''s handiwork.


    "I think it is, I''m sure it''s enchanted with something good. Either way you''ll definitely keep cool with this and the stone, the goggles are pretty neat too."


    "Huh, yeah it will be really good in the dessert. It''s thick enough for night time too! Supplies are tight out there and I can save on getting some clothes with this. I keep telling them armor isn''t a good idea above ground."


    "It isn''t?"


    "Nah, the armor we use gets really hot. I think the bigger guys are going to faint from heat before getting attacked or injured by anything."


    "Are they not listening to you?"


    "In some things yeah, guess they don''t believe me enough. That''s okay.It should be fine to buy the clothes there if they decide they need them. There should be a market or a trade road along the way."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "There are? The chefs would love those."


    "Yeah, I hope we can stop by some."


    Suddenly I remember that Amar is leaving on a raid mission this very day and I didn''t prepare him anything of a going away gift.


    Well shit.


    Obviously, I can''t beat this Gable+Lukas care package, especially on such short notice. Who knows what Gable decked this shit out to do?


    What to do, what to do, I ponder over the inventory I have on hand or well, in my bag.


    Again I am a useless sort of child with only soap, snacks, and knickknacks in there. Nothing that can actually be of use in camping or anything really. I take another once over at the kid in front of me and assess.


    While I know he cleans up regularly since I''ve started throwing soap at people, he''s always a little dirty again from some activity or something. Today it''s from storage dust and the black smeared ink on his little hands. At least the shampoo bars are working well and his short curls are clean and fluffier than ever, even in the rising humidity.


    Like a cartoon character I typically only see him in one to three old outfits on rotation. Those old clothes seem like an odd combo of modified hand me downs, hanging off his wiry frame. Here in the camp, grampa''s people won''t mistreat you but Amar is too skinny for a boy his age.


    It all makes me wonder about who is even watching over the minors in this place? Is that even an issue here? It should be!


    I organize the only thing I really do have, money. Leaving most of the coins in my space I pull out the drawstring sack mother gave me earlier. It''s a sturdy thing made of some more than decent quality material and would do someone else more good than it would me. Inside I leave a couple of child-sized handfuls of coins remaining and stuff to fit some soap and a jar of cold cream as well.


    It''s dry out in the desert, right?


    "Don''t be so stingy then, take this."


    Amar makes a little yelp of surprise since I pulled the purse out of nowhere. His eyes widen when he looks inside after hearing the jingle of the coins. This is only a mere fraction of what mother gave me but I''m pretty sure this is the same expression I made when she presented the full cash bag to me yesterday. Shocked and a little miffed at rich people.


    "Wait! I can''t take this, this your money." at first he''s nervous but then he tries to shake the bag back at me to my firm refusal.


    "What is my name?"


    "Huh?"


    "Answer me! What is my name?"


    "That''s silly Rosalia, you know your own name. Unless you don''t but then t-"


    "Now what is my last name?"I interrupt before he goes into another ramble. He looks at me carefully, trying to figure out the trick to my question.


    "Um... Ventrella? The same as the Lord Commander."


    "That''s right! I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella, first in her name! Something like money is no issue for me!"


    I boast in my naturally haughty little voice, the kind that was perfectly suited for a future otome game villainess. It''s funny how my natural voice is so different than my sisters, I thought we were supposed to be identical twins? Well, I guess I could perfectly imitate her voice in the future if I wanted to, but naaaaaaaahhhh.


    It''s not exactly a lie with my family''s name and not heeding something as trivial as money, but it''s such lies. I really do need money on a personal level. Please, I want to stockpile a hell lot for the future. That''s why I''m working so hard now to set the research and foundations to my business.


    But I think I can afford to spare a couple of coins right now, I even invested money in other sources, didn''t I? At this point in time, it won''t be too difficult to get access to my family funds.


    "But-"


    "Stop complaining and take it! Lukas gave you something so here''s mine. You better go buy some more clothes and tons of cinnamon goodies and all sorts of nice stuff when you need to, got it? I better not see you dressed in this same old thing when you get back! "


    Since he''s trying to hand back the bag I take it and plop it right down into his package box. It''s a little embarrassing compared to Gables and Luka''s nice things, like giving someone a gift card on their birthday or Christmas.


    Since it''s a shitty gift card equivilent I might as well make it a $100 value gift card, or well cards. I prefer more personal well thought out gifts but who can so no to cash! I loved birthday and Holiday money!


    The kid in front of me still looks hesitant but finally lets it go when he looks at the purse sitting innocently in Gable''s present package. Smart, it''s a battle he can''t reasonably win against me.


    "Alright Rosalia. Thank you for the presents!" he gives a bashful smile and that''s that, I win.


    Hopefully, the brat takes better care of himself out there. He''s a nice kid but he doesn''t have an overly powerful long lost uncle out there watching out for him like a certain someone else. Fighting!


    Amar quietly stares at the stuff then packs the items neatly back into the box, even folding the wrapping paper and twine to take with him. Not wasteful at all. He seems to make up his mind about something and bounces back even more cheerful than ever.


    "Thank you! I''ll be sure to bring back something amazing for you guys!"


    "Uh yeah, you better get me some sweet souvenirs." I scoff.


    In fact, can you take the chefs out shopping with you? Marketplace? Trade roads? What kind of trades and merchandise are there? Seriously go get me some spices and stuff! Bring me back presents!

 53 Its really not Fashion!

    Mother just had another dress delivered.


    It''s really hard not to notice when you spend all your time either at home or at your grampa''s workplace. In fact, there are times I feel as if mother and grampa are playing tug of war with us. Good thing there''s two of us and they don''t have to cut us in half to share. But that''s not a thing since Lilyanne and I generally have to stay together.


    Maybe in the future when Lilyanne gets stronger and better at pooling her power but for now we come as a balanced and attached pair.


    Today is one of the days that mother has won.


    It''s not all the time, but some days she''s very finicky about spending time together. It''s very odd for me to say the least.


    Did I ever spend this much time with mother in the past? Absolutely not, well not that I can recall at least. She was either watching over a sick Lilyanne, recovering from illness herself, or catching up on some much put of work and social matters.


    From what I can remember it was always me knocking on her door, when I got old enough to go searching that is.


    Not this, now I''m trapped behind the door some days. Help! I didn''t realize mother could be so sticky, I finally understand some of what Lilyanne had to go through while growing up. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I''ve been trapped in this sticky overprotectiveness as well.


    To my surprise, mother is impossible to escape from in my current body. I can''t even sneak out!


    Georgie boy isn''t even here to boss around with cooking experiments, I lost him to the lure of accompanying the other cafeteria chefs on that raid trip. Oh well, it''s good for him as both a cook and a person if he travels a bit. While I''m sure the progress of my staff''s public education is progressing just fine and the inventory of soap and skincare is the same as always with the overly enthusiastic Abigail counting, I can''t help but feel stuck.


    There''s no way to grow up from being a toddler faster and no helping it but it''s very frustrating.


    I guess old habits are hard to shake off. As terribly lazy as I am, I was used to working overtime and juggling all sorts of jobs and projects at once. Don''t get me wrong, I do not want to go back to that rat race given the choice. Being rich and carefree is the best lottery winning life can give you!


    But I just feel so unproductive here!


    I get that babies should not have to worry about a thing but I''m not a real baby! Also, I''m on a clicking clock here. If I was the protagonist in any of the series I remember reading or watching on the wonderful world wide web, there would be a nice convenient time skip. These infant years would pass by in the flash of a sentence or two.


    How convenient.


    But the clock is ticking and I''m no novel character, this is not how it works.


    So, for now, I''m stuck, playing out my terrible twos and watching my mother receive more goods she really doesn''t need from the capital.


    Yes back to the dresses, mother ever the fashionista is ordering even more of them. Gotta keep on trend after all.


    This wouldn''t be an issue is she doesn''t already have hundreds of thousands of them. Perhaps I exaggerate, but I''ve counted at least 500 in the times'' mother trapped me into her quarters.


    This does not count the shoes and accessories, but I may resort to counting those eventually.


    Now understandably a woman of mother''s status and station must never be without. To wear the same dress over and over again to all the events and balls hosted throughout the year would be a terribly shameful thing.


    It would say the family is financially lacking in funds, that we''re stingy and small-minded or even that mother is no longer relevant to stay within society. It''s all gossip fueled nonsense but everyone knows the only sort of folks who re-wear their gowns are frumpy old aunties and grandmothers who no longer wish to be in the spotlight. Those people are doomed to sit by the walls fanning themselves and locked away in stuffy parlors.


    Maria Ventrella must never.


    First off I think that''s a load of bullshit. How ridiculously wasteful for all those noblewomen to churn out gowns after gowns, season after season. Style trends come and go and even I had my seasonal shopping sprees in modern times. But tanks tops and the newest shoes are not equivalent to the ballgowns of evening and tea dresses here.


    Perhaps it''s to compensate for the suffering of the years beforehand. The demand for luxuries is high and rising while creators and designers are having a heyday to keep up.


    Secondly, they''re an absolute eyesore.


    The trendiest and most expensive dresses are from the capital. And this season the wide skirt is in, just two big ass bustles on either side of one''s hips.That along with super tight corseted waistlines and decorated high collars. Oh and the hair, don''t get me started on how hair is supped to be fashionable.


    I think it looks utterly ridiculous.


    But hey what do I know? I''m only 2 years old and from an entirely different world. I''m culturally insensitive to the times here, it''s far too late for me.


    Perhaps once upon a time, over a lifetime ago, a teenage Rosalia would confidently do on layer upon layers of frilly clothes, bustles, hoops and more. She would the highest feathers in her hair and the loveliest jewels decorated on her person. As a wealthy fashionista, she was the envy of all her female peers by dress alone.


    While Lilyanne could look lovely and pull off anything given to her, Rosalia ''wore'' her clothes. Strutted like a proud peacock, or a queen, however, you want to look at it.


    They may hate her but they couldn''t beat her look, her outfits. And such a Rosalia looked up to her social butterfly mother, the Maria Ventrella, Belle of the Ball, when growing up.


    Yeah no.


    Besides such dresses cost way too much, especially with the import costs from the capital or whatever country the dresses are supposed to be from. An average ball gown not only looks like an ugly torture device in ribbons but costs enough run a large family and their estate for over a year.


    It''s unavoidable to have a status dress here and there, but this is ridiculous. No one would ever think let alone accuse the Ventrellas of lacking money. No one would dare insult the great hero and his family in such a manner. So why should we even bother?


    A little talk about economics with mother sounds like a lost endeavor.


    She''s not an evil villain sort of woman who abuses the poor to live in luxury. She''s just a true born wealthy second generation who doesn''t know any better. Spending money like water and just accepting rich gifts is as easy as breathing for her.


    Just as it was for Rosalia and Lilyanne.


    No one said anything about Maria''s or Lilyanne''s extravagant spending but Rosalia was painted as what I could call a Marie Antoinette. Wealthy to the point of sin. The slander against me was terrifying, further fueling the common people''s hatred.


    In hurt, anger and righteous pride, the past Rosalia would spitefully dress and spend even more money because, by all means, she could afford it. Which ired those gossipy nobles which tricked to the commoners and so forth, and the cycle continued.


    No, this won''t do! It cannot stay this way!


    It''s not enough to just change my own future dress and spending, it must start with earlier than that.


    Mother, it''s time to be a better, more responsible influence!


    But in order for this to work, I have to make her believe it herself. Just telling her is no good!I have to not only reveal the truth but make it hurt and stick.


    "It''s ugly." I spit out


    ....Yeah, that works. Very smooth Rosalia.


    Mother is a typical pretty and reasonably vain woman, she lets out a little yelp in front of the mirror in her boudoir.


    "Eh? Is it really that bad?"


    Like any other modern woman, when the mail arrives with these giant packages containing all these new dresses, mother would rush off to try on her purchases. She really is just a young woman like any other, even younger than I was before I passed away. Her excitement immediately dampens with my words.


    "My lady this is the newest style just as you expect. Of course, the children have yet to see and appreciate the beauty of them."


    "Just because it''s new doesn''t mean it''s not really ugly."


    The maids rush to mother''s defense but it''s too late, Lilyanne is giggling and mother is beginning to second guess her fashion choices. To be honest I was never the most fashionable person in the room but are hoops supposed to be that wide? Are collars supposed to be that rock hard stuff and high? Where do those feathers go?


    "Hehe, Rosa so mean."


    Lilyanne and I have taken to rolling around mother''s boudoir. It''s exactly as it sounds like, children forced to watch their mother shop and try on clothes.


    "Yes Lilyanne that is quite cruel of Rosalia to say, oh dear you learn such things from your father."


    "An ugly dress is an ugly dress. I can lie if it makes you feel better?"


    "Of course not dear, well you''ll change your mind later when you grow up and see others outside wear them."


    Oh ew no.


    "You look really funny like that, it''s so bad I have nothing else to say."


    "Eh?!"


    To distract mother I turn over to Lilyanne.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Lilyanne what do you think of mama?"


    "Rosa! Mama pwetty!"


    "Our mama is very pretty yes, no matter what she wears?


    "Mmmm! My mama most pwetty!"


    "See you said it yourself, Mama is the pretty one right? But not the dress. It''s so ugly that it drags down her beauty."


    Lilyanne makes a contemplative look, trying to understand as if she''s never considered that. Which to be fair she probably never has, she looks at the giant something bones corset and hooped monstrosity with curious eyes.


    "Is that dress pretty on Mr. Gerta? Or maybe someone else? I think it''s very funny! It''s a very ugly and funny dress no matter who wears it!"


    "Mmm ugly! Rosa the dress is so funny!!"


    "It''s so big how does anyone get through the door! Do have to walk sideways like a crab? It has more layers than an onion!"


    "Hehehe onion cwab mama!"


    I can feel mother''s mood predictably tank downwards and keep playing off of Lilyanne. It''s a little manipulative I admit but hey all is fair when you''re a reborn baby.


    "Of course I''m right Lily. Look at those hips, that''s not even where the butt goes! Everyone will just be bumping into each other and smacking their collars as face shields."


    "Bump!"


    I playfully pull up Lilyanne to demonstrate with bumping our hips together and falling over. Our combined giggles resonate through the room and lightens the mood. The maids can only shake their heads and mother in no way can stay down while watching us.


    We''re adorable ok!


    Through the giggling I turn back to mother and start the next phase of this impromptu plan.


    "Mother, why don''t you put on everything? Try the whole thing on, just like a ball. Then we can judge fairly what it''s supposed to look like."


    "Oh isn''t that far too much? You were just laughing how ugly it is." she half scolds, but really she''s just pouting. Ah there it is, it''s mother''s depressed air like when Lilyanne doesn''t pay her enough attention.


    "Yes but you always have to try things before you know it. Go ahead and have everyone prove me wrong. Right, Lily?"


    "Mama, can we see what it looks like!? I wanna see I wanna see!"


    "Don''t hold back on our account, please go right ahead. Remember not your usual style mama but the capital''s full style! The whole thing and everything to go with it. And go!"


    In a flurry worthy of a movie montage the dresser and maids set forth. Since mother''s not really protesting it''s as good as an official order. Also, I honestly think they enjoy dressing her up like a doll, not much excitement for a mansion''s employee in these feudalistic times.


    Her hair hasn''t been heated or set yet so a fake pre-curled extension goes on over all the clips and pins and wax. No less than 3 feathers and 12 jewels stick out from her updo.


    Her face is powered down past to her cleavage, I don''t want to think so much further the powder goes. Hilariously I think they shadowed and contoured her breasts to look even larger and more imposing. It''s honestly a pretty scary sight given how many times I lost oxygen in her embrace.


    To be fair grampa''s hugs have the same effect.


    Her eyes brows had to be redrawn in due to how naturally washed out there were but they were done in a pencil-thin black arch. Then went on layers of I''m not sure what, I hope nothing is poisonous. I should check up on that.


    Then came the finishing touches on her face. There were painted apple pink cheeks, shiny heart-shaped red lips, and finished with a single very fake beauty mark under her multi-colored shadowed eye.


    My belle of a mother looks like a very rich clown and I couldn''t have asked for more.


    Perhaps a camera?


    I can''t hold in the baby poker face any longer, it''s all just too much with that horizontally voluptuous dress.


    "Bwahahahhahaa! A clown! Mot-mother looks so goooood hahahhaha. The circus called! They want their look back!! Pffft hahahaha!"


    "Hahaha a clown! Rosa, haha mama looks like clowns! Is mama our clown?"


    "Pfffffft Yes! Yes Lily, haha mama is our very own clown!"


    I''m dying, my sides hurt too much and my lungs may be too small for all this laughing but it''s all worth it. Really, it''s a shame cameras don''t exist.


    To comfort mother in her shocked dejection the maids give an assortment of praises. The younger ones though are having a difficult time sniffing back their own laughter.


    "Hahaha, the maids are right mother, *snort*. Don''t, hic,listen to us, we''re so young and don''t know anything. Pfffft hehehehe instead, you should ask someone who does know. You know, hehehe *snort* someone with a good eye and always attending balls themselves. "


    I can do this, I can get out my words. I just need to stop laughing at the sad Marie Antoinette inspired clown. Everyone stop laughing so I can stop laughing!


    "How about father?! He would know best what others would think right? He only worked a half-day today right?"


    "Papa? Yaya papa!"


    Mother''s face darkens even further despite all the powder white makeup. Now that''s no way for a stupid couple to respond to their other half.


    "No...I don''t think that''s a very good idea Rosa. I don''t know if I can''t handle both your mouths at once."


    I''m actually a little offended, I''m nowhere as terrible as father is.


    No worries, I''ve already planned ahead and sent a messenger.


    Father should have received word and come knocking any moment now. I don''t personally think that a man''s opinion matters in what a woman chooses to wear or finds attractive. But in this case the more options the merrier!


    Especially if they''re as blunt as father''s usual words tend to be.


    "Maria, my love, I''ve received your urgent call, whatever is the matter-....?!!!"


    The once choking laughter-filled room goes cold and silent with my father, who now stands not but 3 steps into the room.No one dares to move nor breathe. Out of fear, shock or maybe extreme laughter in my case.


    "GIRLS! Get behind me! Everyone step away from the demon! "


    Father hops over and drags Lilyanne and me quicker than I can ever see. Why he even grabbed a pillow as a shield! We quickly comply and I''m glad to see Lilyanne is playing along quite well.


    "Foul banshee what have you done with my wife?! Quickly, someone call a priest and a healer! Quickly!"


    "....Frederick dear...what did you say to me?"


    "Is no one calling for help? I''m no exorcist."


    "...Oh darling~"


    Mothers voice is sickeningly sweet and the room goes cold even quicker, legitimately cold. I think we should run.


    "Quickly everyone, run and take cover!"


    I''m dying, if I don''t choke on my own laughter and asphyxiate myself then mother will surely kill me after this! This was not in the plan but it''s been a short but good life, satisfying enough. I actually don''t mind dying in this way. Luckily father already has little Lilyanne and I tucked away under his arms after throwing the pillow in his defense.


    At least after this, she probably won''t order any more of those hideous dresses. Either that or father and I are banned from the dressing room. If I survive this I win either way.


    Hopefully, though, we have all learned a lesson today about capital ''trends''. Waste can be a lesson, or a prank, for another day. For now let''s focus on running, go father go! Lilyanne, be good and don''t squirm so much, I don''t actually want to die by enraged mother.


    Mother''s deadly aura is reaching to kill for everyone, even her entire family. at this rate.


    I wonder if grampa will stop by and save us. Even if he did it might be of no help, not against mother and her bulldozing gown.


    Everyone run for your lives!

 54 Damask

    I have run into an issue with all my kitchen experiments.


    Don''t get me wrong, every other Friday is still pizza days and we''re getting some interesting additions introduced into the menu. Fresh-grilled flatbreads are still the most popular additions but pitas have gotten more use since we figured out how to turn them into chips without burning.


    But uh, it may not be able to sustain itself at this rate


    I''ve gained a sort of pet name among the camp, specifically the kitchen.I have been called many things in this world, many of them no so pleasant. Never before did I think I would be called Little Bread Wizard?


    Are you kidding me?


    It may sound flattering at first but it''s actually not, primarily because they don''t actually call me the ''wizard'' part and I have no magic powers at all. It''s like rubbing salt into my healing wound.


    With that, they''re calling me shitty cutesy little pet names like, ''chip'' ''bread roll, ''honeybun'' and ''little ball of dough''. What am I? The Pillsbury doughboy?Is this a fat dig? I am perfectly healthy for my age okay, babies are supposed to be squishy!


    I honestly don''t know how that happened but I have no one to blame but myself. As willing, even desperate as the kitchen staff is, I''m the one giving the orders to bake, bake and bake some more.


    After essentially turning both our manor kitchen and the training camp''s cafeteria into bakeries, we''ve come across a supply problem.


    We''re fast running out of flour.


    Typically there are employees to help do supply ordering and logistics, such matters are too bothersome to the head maid or butler let alone the family.


    It''s not until the stock was concerningly low of flour and other essential ingredients that anyone even bothered to even tell me. I''m trying to offset a famine here, not start one due to low storage.


    It is partly my own blind ignorance for not being involved enough in the process. Contrary to my young miss role I''m not an unreasonable little princess. Of course, this info isn''t obvious to everyone, I''m a toddler!


    A strangely well-spoken one but somehow I have the feeling I''m not the weirdest thing most of the main Ventrella staff, not the mention the troops, have ever encountered. I hope then that they give me a bit more trust and leeway in coming to me about these sort of things.


    I know it''s hard to believe but I''m actually decent at organizing.


    I have spreadsheets and the resume portfolio to prove it! Well, not anymore. I don''t think resumes are even a thing there, huh. How does the hiring process happen then? Good old connections and introductions?


    Well, that''s terribly inconvenient then. Underproductive to the hiring market too.


    Anyways, in that case,I have the greatest credentials in this world right now. I''m the rich little miss of the Ventrella family. Money and power baby!


    With my soul being a normal person, I don''t have that ''throw money at problems'' habit. Quite the opposite really, I''ve rarely bought anything that wasn''t on sale. I would always figure out the best money to value on groceries and restaurants. Once I had to cash in and carry a very high figured check for my boss and had heart palpitations the whole time.


    Being born rich in this life is still like a dream for me.


    ButI''m not trying to mess up the market and economy here, that would just chaos unnecessary chaos. Nor do I want farmers and suppliers to be forced to keep selling up items at cheap stable prices, though that is preferable.


    I want to go to the source of this supply shortage and go one from there. Who knows, maybe I can find more ingredient sources or even figure out how to increase productivity. I havve no memories of Rosalia truly surveying the land or any agricultural information.


    Such things are essentially the key to preventing, rather than just offsetting, a future famine across the local area. It''s turning into a more and more important issue the further I think about it.


    Which why I am convincing father to take a little trip surveying the local farmlands!


    Yes, it''s field trip time!


    As a typical noble the previous Rosalia didn''t really have that many hands-on experiences with her territory outside the high end circles. That was left to her father while he was still alive in her childhood.


    The common people, the workers, what their lives and conditions are like and thoughts to improve them were all theory and up in the air.


    This isn''t necessarily her fault, it just wasn''t expected of a woman of her station to pay attention to such things outside of books and theories. Rosalia actually did well in her lessons but even if history is important, it''s a huge difference between lessons written by old out of touch nobles and the actual reality. Queens lessons were mandatory but visiting farmlands,? Not so much. That''s some pretty bad queen lessons honestly, to ignore the majority of the population to focus on memorization and etiquette of the few, the 1%, is terribly irresponsible.


    She hardly noticed when the famines rolled through, noblewomen tend not to.


    They were nothing major by our modern standards but some years there would not be enough food to go around. The results are as expected. This was something that the citizens of this world are long used to, death and suffering is inevitable. These ''minor'' famines were considered more than normal.


    Not only were there deaths but it would severely weaken the people as a whole, the power source of the world and economy. This sort of thing I had forgotten since it had little to no effect on Rosalia''s life and memories.


    For the head of the house and their family members, nothing was lacking. Even if there were peasants dying out in the fields, it wouldn''t affect the nobles besides some raised food prices.


    That just doesn''t sit right with me.


    Again don''t get me wrong, I''m not a naturally good person who wants to save everyone. That''s impossible, but more food and less overall dying going on, the better everyone will be off. This place is my home now, and I want it to be a good peaceful place for me to live.


    There''s also the selfish reason of raising the Rosalia reputation points. I didn''t exactly have the best reputation among commoners, scratch that I was a flat stereotypical devil child that grew into a villainess.


    Who came up with that kind of shit in the first place? I blame the church.


    Of course Rosalia, as spoiled and wasteful as she was, really didn''t have devil powers. I think that I was just the scapegoat, the celebrity that the masses could easily place their hate and frustrations on. Like a bad reality TV show star that people could point their fingers and gossip at.


    Again I blame the church.


    So if the people aren''t hungry then there will be less unrest and less future trouble for me.


    There''s also my immediate concern of getting more ingredients. What do you mean we''re out of flour? I''m trying to improve our standard of eating here, this is a very important checkmark on improving quality of life.


    Of course, we could just pay a higher market price to buy up remaining grains and stock. But what a good reminder it is to check up on the farmlands and markets. I''m not paying more just because I can afford to do so now.Not if it means messing up the market and making it harder for the common people to feed themselves.


    I was ready to present to father bright and early the next morning a simplified list of reasons why we should be making this visit but he agreed before I even finished my first sentence.


    "Very good, let''s go."


    "Huh? Wait wait that easy?"


    "Yes now let''s be off, it''s still early and there''s much to be done, yes."


    "Wait? Right now!"


    Luckily I always carry my interdimensional bag with me because father simply picks me up and heads down to the stables.


    A manservant arrives leading a strong looking mixed breed mare with the coloring of a Yellow Jersey horse. I recognize the mare as Damask, one of the mated pair of steeds that father brought with him from his home, when he married mother.


    Damask and her mate Gino are very recognizable not only from their reddish coat and diamond face markings but because as huge as these things are, they''re very dog like.


    I recall vaguely how after mother and father died, things were moved around and some horses were sold off. Damask and Gino were offered for a high price even though they were no longer considered in their prime then. It''s not like anyone could ride them anyways, not without father.


    But they''re a good breed, both beasts infused fast yet loyal to humans, perhaps they could still produce some young. Even the Bicchieri, father''s family offered to take them back home with a price.


    The steeds refused any attempt to move or relocate them. Yet no matter how fast or adamantly they run off, they would always return to circle and stay around the mansion. Even back then I remember people shaking their heads at the pair of horses when they were spotted lingering, then make a prayer towards my presumed deceased parents.


    Waiting for their master, they would say. If that''s true, then it''s very Hachiko of them. I''m a sucker for dogs and animal stories thus I can''t help the small surge of affection at seeing this not so old horse.


    The familiar reddish mare, now over a decade younger than I last recall, trotted enthusiastically up to us, half dragging to poor stablehand. She''s much smaller than her mate, short for her breed but just as fast, and easily bent down to affectionately nuzzle father''s face. Her coat a few shades brighter red than father''s own head of hair. They make a very suitable picture together.


    See, just like a dog! Or well a horse, some horses are affectionate no?


    She even wants to be petted, which father immediately gives while I watch as an older stablehand pack her up a tad bit more than just ready for riding.


    Then to my surprise, the old head Butler Alfonso pops in.


    "Your excursion bag and briefcase sir, base provisions have been packed and a messenger bird has already been sent out. "


    "Excellent work Alfonso, have the guardsmen follow us after they''re ready."


    "Yes Lord Frederick, they''re expected to catch up with the carriage in no more than 2 hours."


    "Very good then, anything else Alfonso?


    "A change of clothes for both you and the young miss Rosalia, sir. "


    "....."


    I''m left gaping in silence, how did father get everything impossibly arranged so quickly? How was the pre-planned already, it must have been to have everything so ready?


    "I''m sure our Lady Maria temper shall ease through the day."


    "That''s what I''m counting on Alfonso."


    Oh that.


    "Father, are we running away from mother today? Is she still mad about the clown thing?"


    Father finally puts me down to prep his gear and change out of his shoes into a more reliable pair of leather riding boots. He also removes his coat for something less valuable and eye catching, something or a warm dark brown leather that compliments his figure rather dashingly.


    I actually like this handsomely rugged look. Not bad father, not bad at all.


    "Something like that, but best not to be caught by her today."


    "That doesn''t sound very healthy."


    "No I don''t suppose it is, but you haven''t seen your mother petty and angry. Would you prefer that though?"


    "No, no thank you. Let''s go with your running away plan."


    At that moment Alfonso appears again presenting us with a tiny pair of boots and a short common looking jacket to go over my frock.


    "Is that for me?"


    Obviously, no one else can fit it. I allow father to pull me up and sit me down so they can replace my dainty little sandals for the booties. As quickly as they prepped me up, that was when I noticed a mortifyingly familiar piece of cloth.


    "No!"


    "Now Damask may be smaller but she''s still far too large for you to be riding normally. "


    "I know that, I can ride with your just fine father!"


    "Yes yes you probably can my little rascal but for your safety and everyone''s peace of mind-"


    "You are not getting me into the baby sling" I seethed.


    The shitty gramps is a terrible influence, father must have gotten the idea after seeing grampa strut with Lilyanne bundled to his person around the camp. No, no I refuse, I am not a real baby or even a puppy dog to be slung around.


    "Well then my Rosalia, can you ride my Damask?"


    I shake my head immediately at the beast who''s coming up to lick and nuzzle at father''s head to his amusement. Is that sanitary, I think not? Her entire mouth is certainly large enough to gobble a human head in one gulp.


    Nope nope nope.


    "Well, then would you like to wait a few hours and follow along with the guard in the carriage wagon? It won''t be our nice cushioned one since I don''t intend to take long."


    I shake my head even harder, nope nope nope.


    "I''ll most certainly get sick on that carriage"


    Not risking it, I''ll be stuck with motion sickness for a good part of the day and then what''s the point?


    Father makes that fake ''not mocking'' expression as if he''s pondering over his options. Tt''s hard to take him seriously with his hair half messed by an overly affectionate horse, though by now it does stop nuzzling him so much to give me a curious look.


    I hope it''s not thinking of eating me.


    "Then would you prefer to stay home with your mother today after all?"


    For a brief second my mind flashbacks to the carnage of yesterday and that''s enough convincing for me. Nope nope nope.


    "Baby sling it is then."


    "Very good choice Chip, into the thing you go. It''s much more comfortable than horseback riding, I assure you."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Do you have to call me that?"


    I complain as father stashes me like a mother kangaroo. Oh the shame, no one here is allowed to speak of word of what they''ve seen ok! I''m using my young miss card here, no embarrassing gossip!


    I''m pretty sure father''s authority overrides that though.


    "Would you prefer ''dough ball'', I''m rather fond of that one too."


    "Stop stop stop, father! No one really calls me that!"


    "I beg to differ, my dear little hot cross bun. Everyone calls you that and every other bread under the sun. Besides I''m quite fond of ''chips'', they''re a tad hard to chew and snappy but surprisingly delicious. "


    "I am not a little hot cross bun..."


    "Chip it is then."


    Father pinches and pats my dough like baby cheeks before he expertly climbs up and slings his leg over his giant dog horse.


    "Take care now my Lord, a good day to you young Miss Rosalia."


    "And to you too Alfonso, do send a messanger bird if anything comes up.


    With a light kick, Damask carefully begins to turn and trot out the stables. Funny I usually see her and Gino speed out of here with father. He is carrying a bit more cargo today, must be extra careful today with me on board.


    I get a quip in before Damask really starts speeding up like I know she will.


    "See father, Alfonso doesn''t call me any funny bread names."


    "That''s because he already calls you ''soap suds'' when you''re not listening."


    "What!?!"


    "Hmm the sling is nice and tight then, any discomfort at all?"


    "What''s the soap bubbles thing?! Father?"


    " I''ll take that as a no, alright then we''re good to go. Come on girl!"


    "Eeep!"


    Then we''re really off! The once careful mare went from a 0 to 100 real quick. I think I''m actually glad for the baby sling tying me securely to safety. He doesn''t need to with the sling but one of father''s arm is still holding on to support and steady me. It''s warm in this sling, so close against his chest.


    After the first 20 or so horrifying minutes of hiding face first into the sling, it''s actually a pretty fun ride going this fast. The scenery is blurry and the wind hurts my eyes if I keep them open face forward for too long but my heart beats not in an unpleasant way.


    Then it''s nothing but rising sunshine, the rushing breeze and the subtle scent of bergamot heavy tea, gunpowder, and a bit of the horse, all around me.


    ------

 55 Wheat and Butter

    So, my father has too easily agreed on my little farm trip idea. Turns out he was already on the same thought progress ahead of me when he was seeing the rate of how much bread the cafeteria and kitchens were churning out.


    He also actually gets reports from Alfonso and each staff heads about such things.


    I suppose my baking research has been a bit excessive lately, even if I am mixing up grains to make the base wheat flour stretch. ''Rustic'' and ''artisanal'' multigrain bread is the standard norm here, the locals are far more used to this than plain but expensive white bread. It''s delicious!


    If anything our research is going quite well, if not for the supply issue I would want to go ahead and start making takeaway style bread like those in Chinese or Japanese bakeries. I even have steamers ordered to be made!


    Steamed bao buns, I''m coming for you!


    In the end, father managed to excuse this as a work trip.


    As summer is in full swing the harvest is already underway in some parts. It''s not a bad idea to see how conditions are. It''s not only preventative but we would be able to address any issues such as labor shortage or pests and vermin impacting the fresh stores.


    In reality though, father may be running away from an angry mother. Also not a bad idea.


    He''s very much like a terribly tacky tourist around ''commoner'' things and is enjoying the start of this field trip very much.


    I had fallen asleep from the early hour and the lull of the horseback ride in the sling, no motion sickness thankfully. From what father estimates it may have been a 2 hour ride to the nearest local farm community. When we arrived and I was freed from the baby pack, father sort of...went wild. Not in the college student party kind of way, more like the nerd kind. For ''commoner'' things.


    This the sort of man fascinated by a simple butter churner, that''s how bad he is.


    "Fascinating! So that''s how it''s made."


    "...It''s a bucket and a sick father."


    "The world is truly an ingenious place. To create butter out of nothing but a stick and a container. The creativity of something out from nothing is astounding. Who was the first person to discover butter? How hungry would they must have been to stumble upon this? "


    Fair questions, I admit.


    "Hmmm, kay but who was the first person to put butter on bread? Plain butter tastes almost like nothing but when you add in bread it''s suddenly God level."


    "Yes yes good point, when did the first person discover butter and its use in food. It takes a pioneer to first willingly consume an animal''s solidified mammary milk and discover it was delicious. "


    "Probably the same or related person who first drank an animal''s mammary milk."


    "Interesting, back to the source were they one and the same? How hungry does one have to be to first try drinking from an animal rather just outright slaughtering and eating it?"


    When alone these are the sort of conversations my father can go odd on. How did a fashionable person like mother, with all her pick of suitors, choose this man to marry I''m not sure. What a nerd, well it''s not like I can talk.


    I also wonder about the first person to drink milk or make cheese and all sort of odd things. It''s part of being human okay!


    "Would the little missy there like to try churning?"


    Asked a kind middle aged man demonstrating on how they were using up the milk the couple cows they had were producing. Before this they showed us how goat milk was turned into goat cheese, which was far easier than other cheeses. It''s so easy that the village promised that it would be ready by lunchtime!


    Trust that my initial reason for wanting to come out here was for wheat but this is all so interesting! Heck yeah I wanna hand churn the butter, I haven''t done this since I was a kid on a field trip to those educational old-time reenactment homes.


    "Oh ok!"


    "Wait, Rosalia, as your father I should try it out first to ensure it''s safe."


    "...."


    Father, you just wanted to play around too, your eyes are sparkling. What a weird man. Admittedly it actually is oddly fun before it gets tiring.


    I wonder how he''ll react to a hand crank wheeled butter churner if he''s this excited over this most basic model.Oooooh astounding, butter churners.


    Jokes aside I actually like this side of him. It would be far more disgusting if he was a typical prideful rich person with his nose in the air at everything. This nerd of a father is actually sort of adorable. I think he would definitely enjoy watching how it''s made sort of documentaries and YouTube videos if they existed here.


    Since this was a rather last minute trip he''s not accompanied by too many officials to slow things down or make things overly formal. The guardsmen have arrived with a more inconspicuous carriage and their steeds not very long ago. With fewer people and guards following him around he has much more free time playing tourist.


    He brought me after all, how formal can it be?


    It''s not a bad thing that he''s overly enjoying the mundane parts of these tours. We get to see more of the typical life of the people, it''s great for demographics and market research on my part.


    Life for the average person in a farming village is...how should I say...really really basic. At least their homes and tools are.


    Sanitation consists of chamber pots, the literacy rate is low, and besides major roads paved by grampa''s troops for transportation, the streets are but packed dirt.


    Tools are definetely medieval, maybe even worse than that. Even household brooms are pretty bad, seriously a little tweak or changing of the materials would greatly improve efficiency.


    This was not in my plans at all, I wanted to look into increasing crop outputs not improving household tools and public utilities. But my mind is spinning with the potential. Not because I''m a particularly smart builder or planner, things are just so abysmal in this rural place.


    But I won''t voice out such things carelessly.


    These are people''s homes and lives and it would be rude of me to point it all out. Perhaps we could set up some committee of planning under the Ventrella name? We take their yearly taxes and a portion of the goods, I''m sure we could set up something.


    "Will we see the crops soon?"


    I poke at father who is admiring further mundane tools with the village heads. Simply the active village elders, they look like hardworking honest sort of folk.


    "Haha looks like the little lady wants to move on."


    "Rosalia didn''t you want to take a look at the wheat production. Come take a look here, marvelous, this is a ''thrasher''. Such a simple but ingenious little thing"


    The wheat thrasher the father is referring too looks like a fence or a rake with a bunch of spines and spikes. Farmers and their aids would take full stalks of their crops and run them through the grills, collecting the grains on the floor. Realistically it works for rice or any similarly shaped gains or cereals as well.


    "It''s our village''s treasure, I remember how drastically our lives improved when Lord Ronald first built it here. Back then it didn''t has anything to collect on the bottom an we had to gather the heads ourselves. Ah what memories."


    "Grampa designed this?''


    "Indeed Rosalia, your grandfather made many of the amazing things you see here today. He came through with all these fangled ideas we thought were strange at the time. Even the stone path you stand on is thanks to him."


    "Youngins these days have it so good. They don''t know what it''s like to work without iron tipped hoes and shears.."


    As plain as this village looks to me, it''s local. That means it''s the first to get the advantages of being located near Gramp''s training camp and thus the runoff advancement. It makes me shiver to think that further and further away, there are villages even simpler and in worse conditions.


    The rest of the tour and inspection goes about as expected. It''s still too early for the next field of wheat to be harvested while the rest of the stock has already been sold.


    "I''m sure a few of the farmers and their families have some in stock for the right price if yee be needin them."


    "That won''t be necessary, thank you. But what about other crops? Are they growing well?"


    Just as I expected, the cops fluctuate and they''ve been mostly growing the same things over and over on the same plot of land. The soil may be good but it''s going to have difficulty keeping up to output standards. They also sell off all their crops without keeping a community store, which works just fine right now, but it might cause issues in the future.


    Hmmm,what to do, or well, where to start?


    "Why don''t you rotate the crops then?"


    "What was that little missy?"


    I look towards father for support, knowing that my age isn''t exactly very credible. Anyone who hears me will think it''s just a child''s ramblings but if Father the acting Lord stands behind me, even if he keeps silent, there will be some weight to my words.


    A pat on my head gives me all the go-ahead I need to start shooting my mouth off.


    "If the fields are yielding less and less then you can rest the soil but still keep growing food by crop rotation. Each kind of crop needs different nutrients, er food, and sucks it out of the soil. By changing the thing grown with a dissimulator crop in a cycle, the soil can replenish itself with missing the nutrie- food."


    The village heads stare at me in shock, then ping pong back and forth between my father and I. His stance and posture is lazy, not even bothering to watch me though I know he''s listening. That a good enough ok for me to continue.


    "Many other lands use this system to prevent soil depletion, you can go between livestock feed and grains or switch them around the produce. Some crops work better after others.A three or four-field rotation system might work best here."


    "Would you also happen to know what kind of crop to use then?" asks a tough-looking old woman in a headscarf.


    "Yes, but it depends on what''s already growing on the land.For example on the current empty wheat field, at this time of year, you should plant oats, peas, and radishes. Millet and hay also work and can be grown for feed or if you just want to let it rest over winter then plant clover. "


    "My...my lord?''


    "Buckwheat works too, buckwheat works on any sort of dry arid land. I''d actually like to buy some if you have buckwheat."


    It''s technically not the best season for buckwheat but I like soba. If wheat isn''t a feasible option now I should look into other grains. I really am homesick for rice and noodles, even if the type isn''t right. I should switch things up and get rid of all the bread based nicknames.


    A village elder trembles eyes still ping-ponging back and forth between us father and daughter pair.


    "You should get started by fall if you want to weed and manure in time. You do use fertilizer right? There''s a lot of livestock poop, it would be better if you compost it with unwanted plants and scraps."


    Okay, I may have lost them at this point. Either that or I crossed the line again. I''m sorry I don''t know where the line even is.


    Father gives a lazy wave and smiles with a natural flourish as if this was all expected.


    "Does my Rosalia need to explain things in further detail, perhaps in the town hall?"


    Upon finally hearing his voice the small crowd of elderly bursts into relief and kind praises.


    "My Lord why what a surprise! You really have done such beneficial research."


    "The compost, what are the effects?"


    "What a smart little girl you are, did your papa teach you all that?"


    "No actually, she spends so much time outside with her grandfather, while I''m always cooped up or at court. At this point she knows more than I do about farming."


    "You mean Lord Commander Ronald! Why of course."


    "You''re too modest Lord Frederick, truly the Lord commander has gained not only an excellent son but a smart and talented little granddaughter."


    "The apple does not fall far from the tree, such good young blood and little seeds."


    Ack I knew it, I really can''t do this kind of thing on my own yet.


    It''s a little disappointing to have to use father and grampa as covers and share credit but as long as it works. The faster we improve food production and stores, the better we can avoid any upcoming ''minor'' famine. Thank goodness father is on my side. He rolled with it so easily without question too, not bad, not bad at all.


    It is a little concerning how his lack of concern is, be a little more afraid of your toddler''s brain.


    "Shall we discuss more of these crop rotation in the hall as you suggested. The scribe is still there and we can get this written down."


    "Why yes, lead the way. Lunch should be about ready too I suppose, feeling hungry yet Chip my dear."


    I''m not a pita chip but I nod anyway, father is more of a help than he is an annoyance. We got the local scribe and father to write down the basics of a four-field rotation system and how to make effectively make composts in bigs rather than leaving them in a heap outside before breaking for a meal.


    Lunch was later and much longer than I''m used to but it makes sense since the locals tended to take their midday meal during the hottest time of the day. Like a siesta! That did make most economic sense, conserve strength!


    Besides its summer right now, they can afford the daylight.


    The meal was a spread board of all the local produce and dried smoked meats and cheeses along with some aromic buttered farmer''s bread. Simple in concept and preparation but gorgeous with all the colors and variety of produce. The fresh goat cheese tasted great on nearly everything, especially when paired with a sweet pickled fruit preserve.I love cheese boards! Now all that''s missing is the wine, sadly I''m too young right now to enjoy any of those pleasures.


    To go along with the cheeseboard I even got father to help, *cough*doallthework*cough* in grilling up flat but deliciously layered roti bread to show to the village elders and anyone watching in the farming community. It was easy to set up and assemble a grill and the piping hot roti was sincerely and extremely well received, just like in the training camp.


    When the weather cooled down a bit, we worked off the meal by surveying the actual crops and farmlands. Often times father asked plenty of insightful, though nerdy, questions, being fully involved in the process. For fun, we even harvested some fat radishes from the ground with our bare hands. With that and talking to the elders and builders, the day passed by far too quick.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "It is getting late and I''m sure there''s so much to go over. Should we perhaps stay the night?" suggested father.


    He took a glance down at me as if asking for my opinion. An overnight trip! How exciting! For a moment my thoughts ran to Lilyanne but my twin has only been getting healthier lately and she''s shown to be fine without me for a couple of days at most, one night should be no issue!


    "Can we father?!"


    "Of course, our space is humble but your lodgings will be prepared immediately"


    "Such a project may require even more time, and there''s still the neighboring farms too..."


    "Yes! There''s so much to discuss! "


    I see, father wanted an overnight field trip to avoid office work. I was wondering why he was so well behaved.Well, I don''t mind, it''s very nice to see new things and get out the mansion once in a while.


    "Little Miss, is there anything furtger you''ve learned from your honorable grandfather?"


    "Please, it''s okay if you just call me Rosalia. Grampa didn''t teach me anything really but I do have a question."


    "Of course, we shall do our best to answer."


    "Then, where are the water-wheels?"


    "Pardon? "


    "The water wheel? Or some sources of power for the town? How do you grind the grains and such?"


    "Why with the oxen and by our own hands of course."


    Oh dear, I was wondering what was missing from the generally picturesque village. A river runs right through it and yet there''s no mill or water wheel? I admit I did see the oxen lead grinding stone but I thought there would be something more. I suppose Liliyane and I are a magical battery now but rare magic isn''t the answer to everything.


    A day and a night really won''t be enough for all the improvements we can feasibly plant to implement.


    "There are builders in this village right?"


    "Yes, of course,many sorts of folk. A few of the troops like to visit and stay on their outings too."


    "Lovely, then do you think you would be able to build something like this?"


    With nothing but a stick found on the ground I do my best to draw the river and the scale of an actual water wheel, explaining the details and workings as well as the possibilities.


    The wheels themselves aren''t difficult to construct but the mechanisms and structure you might want to attach are trickier. For a river of this size and flow, it could easily power two or 3 medium to large water wheels. There''s a lot of wiggle room and potential, it could be used as miller during harvests and a power hammer, saw, or any other construction tool off.


    "It might be best to invite someone from the camp to supervise, it would certainly go faster with some skilled hands." and magic if we have it.


    "Such...such a thing! If it works it might no it could exceed our treasured thrasher."


    "Oh yeah that...you could build a small wheel just to see. In fact, if the builders understand how wheels work they could make and upgrade the thrasher."


    "But how does the thresher work with your water wheel? It does not move?"


    "Yes, pardon us old folks, our minds are a bit slower on new things."


    "What a well-learned child you have taught and raised Lord Frederick."


    Back to the drawing board, or well floor. Father directs me to another clean section of dust and I get to redrawing with my stick.


    "See on a smaller scale wheels can be used for many other things requiring force. If you take the bottom of the thresher and change the flat grate into a cylinder-like this, the attach that to the motor running with a hand crank or a power source like the water wheel. "


    "What genius!"


    "No one touches the floor, get people to put barricades around it, the plans must not blow away."


    Huh? We could draw actual blueprint you know? This is just my messy diagrams, no need to take them so seriously.


    "Fascinating."


    I haven''t noticed father looming over me this entire time,busy on drawing and selling the waterwheel and all its application. He picks me up and twirls the stick I was using as if it was a magic wand.


    "Rosa, my snappy little ball of dough, you certainly have some fascinating things in that head of yours."


    "Like you said, father, I spend soooo much time out with grampa and on the training grounds. All sorts of ideas floating around."


    "Mmmm then should credit go to where credit is due. To whom do we Ventrellas own these wonderful plans to? And how difficult would it be to buy them would you say, in your childishly blunt opinion."


    "Oh it''s hard to say, father, everything just comes in bits and pieces. Since I''ve figured out this much together, it would be fair to say it belongs to me."


    "A sole Ventrella operation then, how convenient."


    He grins a little like a fox, amber hair catching red in the sunlight, and I can''t help but mirror that expression.


    Patents don''t exist in this world but outright idea theft could be met with trouble. I think I''m good on that aspect since I never claimed these were my inventions. They''re just...things to help the people of our homeland. If it brings profit to work them under our household name, well that''s just a nice bonus.


    As expected of my father, quick to see the economic positional!


    "Now let''s head back and get some ink and paper, surely we can make something a bit better than dirt doodles. "


    "Hey, I''m doing ok if everyone can understand me. You try drawing then!"


    "Why I''ll be happy to assist my little girl with her writings and drawings. Say now Rosalia, would a wheel format be miniaturized and work for say, a butter churner?"


    Oh no. What have I done?


    -------

 56 The Adventures of Chip and Lord Butter

    Father is a surprisingly skilled artist, especially in architectural and design drafts.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Seriously he''s so good, what the hell? What''s with this hidden talent? Was this where Lilyanne got her art skills from all along?


    *gasp*


    What a revelation.


    After a lovely dinner of rich summer fare with refreshingly cold tomato soup, and politely answering a lot of excitable questions, father whisked me off to our lodgings to rest.


    Since there''s no way his reason and protectiveness would allow me to stay by myself, we shared a room reserved in the town hall It''s not particularly large or fancy but it''s the safest place here and has everything we need to work.


    I''d say we worked and discussed throughout the night burning that lamp oil, quite literally. Until I passed out early that is...


    I usually sleep early ok! I''m a toddler!


    When I awoke it was well late into the morning, the sun already high in the sky. Father must have let me oversleep and left to attend to business. He''s nowhere in sight and I''m tucked into bed so neatly, unlike my usual sleeping posture.


    In fact, I''m tucked very tightly, like a little burrito.


    I really didn''t notice anything, I must have slept like the dead.


    Surprise surprise all the doors and windows are so thoroughly locked and boarded that no one could possibly get in, and in no way could I get out.


    A note in father''s stylish cursive confirms what I already know. He''s off to attend to some matters and will return quickly so I should best behave and stay till he gets back. Yes, I know the drill.


    Thankful he left me breakfast on the desk.


    It''s some sort of plain rustic crepes, goat cheese spread and fruits I recognize from the ripe summer fields. Yummy, summer fruits are really sweet!


    Can we bring some of these back? Especially the cherry plums, they''re all good but I always had a weakness for sweet and sour things.


    First, they''re sour, then they''re sweet. That taste is irresistible and you don''t get tired of it at all!


    I''m content to have a lazy restful morning, traveling is still rough on my current body and I do love a good nap. This isn''t exactly home and I still pretty kidnap able. So I''m not going to risk my safety by sneaking around even though I know there are guards stationed outside.


    Back to father''s stupidly high spec art skills though!


    While munching on a cherry plum bigger than my fists, I flip through the drafts he must have created after I fell asleep. Just from my rambling explanations and messy charcoal sketches, he''s somehow worked out enough to ink out various blueprints. The illustrations, including close-ups of the wheeled mechanisms,range from waterwheels to mills, threshers, and yes even a hand crank butter churner.


    Wow, he actually figured it out.


    I suppose his intelligence and visualization are pretty praiseworthy here but look at that art! Seriously, he can draw! This is some professional quality work even in modern times, the inked illustrations and sketches look both functional yet beautiful.


    I was never the artist but I worked with plenty of them very well.


    Feeling both motivated and petty at father''s surprising skills,I doodle little vegetables and plants on the list of crop rotations he helped me format.One for each thing listed! Take that, no one can draw a carrot as cute as I can.


    Out of spite, I may have doodled a few manga effects and commentary on the empty spaces of his blueprints.


    I was mid drawing a picture of him as a giant carrot being stupidly gaga over yesterday''s butter churner when the door opened. Father stepped through the door looking like the disheveled leading man in a historical romance movie.


    It''s the plain white low V-neck shirts, the shirt is to blame.


    You know the kind of shirt I''m talking about, the regacy shirt, all loose and exposed at the neck and chest. I now dub it, ''the end scene Mr. Darcy'', shirt.


    It''s actually a very simple outfit, a tucked slightly wet shirt, loose slacks, and a white brimmed sun hat. It is much simpler and more common than father''s usual wear. No matter what though, he still looks like a dressed-down model rich boy, it''s more than little scandalous really.


    He actually looks quite hot. No, not attractive ''hot'', a literally very sweaty kind of hot. He''s an attractive person but that is not what I meant!


    "You''re finally up Chip! Do you want to get dressed and head out around the village? I don''t think your mother will be too pleased if we stay out another night but since we''re already here, might as well enjoy the rest of the da- uh I mean get as much work done as possible"


    "Yes, good morning to you to father. Is that.... dirt on your hands?"


    "Yes well, I wanted to get some more paperwork done while you slept but the locals are all busy harvesting the fields at this time. Early mornings are best to be out there before the day gets too hot."


    "And you went along to farm?"


    From behind him, father lifts a basket of still wet vegetables, obviously just washed in a stream. That explains his pulled back though wet sleeves.


    "How invigorating, we saw the peppers and I snipped eggplants and zucchinis blossoms!Oh and the rice, the way the locals really beat those stalks!"


    "You went without me!?"


    "You were sleeping, best to let the dough rest. Why do you suppose they call them eggplants though, they look nothing like eggs?"


    "....I''m not a ball of dough....and try looking at eggplants earlier in the year. Wait, I wanted to see the rice!"


    "Well get on with it then, put on your day clothes and shoes and we''ll be off again. I''m just back to gather some papers."


    "Okay okay I''m already dressed just -ack you wash your hands too!"


    I scramble off from the writing desk to clean my juice stained hands with a crepe, giving father space to gather what he needs. I''m pretty sure I hear a snort of amusement as he rustles his papers up and packs them away. I''m kinda busy with rolling up the remaining crepes and putting my shoes on. Coordination is still a little hard for me okay?


    "Ready Chip?"


    "Yep!"


    Slinging my bag, now full of cheesy crepes and fruit,over my shoulder I run over to where my father is waiting for me at the door.


    "You didn''t wash your hands." I huff. I have the soap if he needs it, oh that''s right I wonder if I should gift some to the village heads as a sign of goodwill?


    "No need, I''ll just get them dirty again out here. We''ll wash up before eating again alright?"


    "Hmmf! Can''t be helped."


    I stick out a fruit and goat cheese rolled crepe at the man playing tourist farmer, since his hands are filthy. As expected he bends down and gobbles crepe whole, just like like a goat or his own horse. I don''t know what time he got up but knowing father''s usual work routine, it was before the sun even rose.


    "Not bad" he chews and picks me to speedily walk down the stairs and outside.


    When he does though, I zone out, or at least I think I do.


    It''s his hands that trigger it this time. Rough calloused hands, a little dirty and smeared with something black from work. Something so common and trivial and yet it''s this thing that I focus on til I can''t focus on anything really.


    It''s the same, it feels the same.


    Suddenly I''m somewhere else, in hideous pink polka dot dress. I loved that dress once. I''m wandering halls I vaguely recognize, following after a much larger figure. It''s summer but the place is air-conditioned, my shoes squeak as I toddle along. The figure in front of me stops and lets out a boisterous laugh before bending down, giving me the attention I''ve been following after.


    I don''t know how I know this, I just do.


    Those dirt-streaked hands didn''t want to dirty my beloved dress but I insisted to be lifted up and carried anyways.


    "Daddy!"


    "Rosalia? Rosa, are you still sleepy?"


    "Huh?"


    "That''s strange, you never called me that before.....it''s not bad actually."


    I caught that last part but barely.


    I''m still being carried but the figure holding me isn''t the hazy figure I just saw, it''s my father. All amber haired and youthfully handsome. This tall foreign man with the surprisingly pretty art and nerdy questions over the silliest thing, this isn''t who I meant to call out to.


    But why did I even call out in the first place?


    Did it happen again? Did I see another flashback to the life I lead before?


    "Are you feeling alright there dear, you can sleep some more if you''de like?"


    "No, I''m not tired- I''m fine."


    I always am fine. But he readjusts me to rest more comfortably against his chest and pats my back soothingly with his other hand. It feels so big with how it essentially covers my entire back that I feel like I''ve been transported back into my childhood.


    But I am a child right now?


    "It''s alright, we can take it easy today before going back home. We''ll ride slower this time so you won''t get sick."


    I shake my head because that''s not the problem. I don''t even know what the problem is, just these odd zoning out moments when I remember something a little too deeply.


    "It''s okay, I like going fast."


    "Well good, because so does Damask."


    Father chuckles at that, his large hand still patting my back comfortingly. I don''t fall asleep exactly but I rest half-consciously as he meets up with the scribes and builders in the conference room in the town hall.


    Somehow he can sit there with a toddler in his arms and present his illustrated blueprints and plans to all these people without losing an ounce of awe and respect.


    "These are marvelous!" one person praises after the bulk of the talking is done.


    "Never have I seen anything like this!" applauded another.


    "It''s just like when Lord Ronald first came by as a youngster." reminisces an elder.


    But it''s the builders and craftsmen being commissioned that are looking at the drafts most intensely. It''s the same look I see on my home cooks when I start them off on another new recipe.


    "May we keep these as references?" asks a burly man in a bandana.


    he''s neither young nor old. Nothing about him is particularly memorable but there seems to be a fire in his eyes, a look of intense determination. The others follow suit, the same sort of odd drive in them, pleading for the drafts.


    Father shakes his dead and politely declines.


    "I''d prefer it if your people would be able to copy this down, the original drafts should stay with me. They are drawn by myself and my rascal here."


    "Of course, we wouldn''t dare Lord Frederick! All rights belong to you, yes, in fact, write that all down. All of us in this room and the village are witnesses, that all these wonderful things were thought of and designed by you Lord Frederick!


    Father smiles in that mysteriously vague way that often has people either trembling or questioning everything they just said. With the flair of a born and raised noble, he lazily waves him off with one hand and pats my back.


    "Well, I wouldn''t say all of them."


    "Of course, a parent raising their child ahead so early on. What wisdom."


    "My I suppose the little vegetables were done by the young miss. They''re very well done for one your age."


    "Of course, both of your names shall go down in the record, it''s only right. What an adorable and talented little seed you have raised!"


    "You hear that Chip, you''re a good seed."


    "....And you''re the carrot."


    Whoopie doo dah day, I introduce a whole crop rotation system and the concept of a water mill to upgrade this place, and they give me the credit for doodle veggies. I feel so accomplished.


    Well, they''re not my ideas anyway, I''m just regurgitating what people in modern times already know. Heck, even farmer''s children in the rural countrysides already know this shit.It was a different world though.


    Please improve the basic standard quality of life, please I beg of you.


    Maybe, just maybe, you will all be less angry mobs later if you had more food and some public toilets! It is kind of hard to see these kind and simple elderly folk as an angry mob though. But hey humans are complex creatures.


    Right Rosalia girl, let''s not aim for fame or glory, don''t mind it at all. It''s best to fly under the radar! Innocent and safe, just raise some niceness points, get some more grains and be on your way.


    Seriously though, did we get that rice? If I can''t play with wheat for some time I want rice!


    "Well Chip dear, you up for one last outing?"


    "I''m up, I''m up, you worry too much sheesh."


    " Worry huh?"


    He pats my hair but doesn''t let me down, how condescending. Huh, is my hair grow long again? What was once a Peter Pan-ish pixie but is now a shaggy something where the ends are beginning to curl around my shoulders again. I''m sure I look cute regardless with my genetics but short hair is really refreshing, especially during summer.


    "Father, can I cut my hair again?"


    "Why what''s wrong with your hair now?"


    "Nothing''s wrong, short hair just feels good."


    "Hmm, should I get a trim too them?"


    That''s up to you father, why are you asking me? Though now that he mentions it, his hair is looking longer than usual, it can even be tied back with a ribbon if he wishes.


    "What if I grew out my hair long, do you think your mama would like that more?"


    "Ehhh? Why would she? Were you actualy growing it out?" I deadpan


    As much as I don''t want to focus on it, my parents are attractive people. Father is a full spec ikeman through and through even if he is a nerd.


    "Just trying something new, you two do seem to very much like admiring men with long hair."


    I look at him with a blank questioning look. When did that happen?Also I''m only two.


    I''m not looking at anyone that way. Where did both mother and I oggle a man- ohhhh Gable.


    Gable doesn''t count, he''s like a fairy or a celebrity! Gable''s beauty is universal and for everyone to enjoy if you do happen to be blessed enough to see him.In fact, I tell father those worlds near exactly.


    "Hmmm do you think me very silly then, to grow my hair out for that reason?"


    "Very silly, you can''t win.Don''t be gross and go cut your hair father."


    "Gross?!"


    He almost looks offended, just almost.


    "No one can copy Gable, shorter hair suits you better so it''s fine okay. You look more dashing that way."


    "Dashing huh?


    "Yeah, like when you part it over sideways. Oh and you can leave the front long! And-"


    Besides father looks like a legit nerd, a little like a college student, with the shaggily longer hair. It''s settled, we''ll both get a summer haircut today. It was a bit of a hassle because it seems every farmwife in the area had heard and wanted to have the honor of trimming ''Lord Frederick''s hair. Well that''s awkward.


    For father''s safety let''s just ask the local barber.


    Technically there are no professional barbers in a backwater town like this. But this old knife smith is a professional with a razor and he seems to be on good terms with both father and grampa. Ah, I really don''t think he''s a simple barber or knife smith at all.You can''t be normal if you know grampa.


    "Well then Freddy, whatcha in for today?"


    "A trim if you don''t mind, for the both of us. I suppose my daughter here is calling us gross."


    "How short ya want it?"


    " Yes, what is the appropriate amount of short to be ''not gross.''?"


    "Eh, I can pick?"


    "Err, Freddy not that I don''t think you and your brat are terribly cute but I don''t recommend letting kids pick your cut."


    "Can you do it like this?!"


    "Freddy boy?"


    "Well then, how about we make it fair. If you pick my hair, I pick yours. Sounds like a deal?"


    "Do I still get to have it short?"


    "Depends, probably. You mother might throw a bit of a fit but it doesn''t bother me if you like short hair."


    "Hmmmmmm deal."


    "Are you two always like this?" the old man chuckles.


    I''m a toddler, anything looks cute on me. Worst-case scenario I just go bald and grow it back out. I could be like those cute little baby Shaolin monks. Oh that actually sounds kind of fun, I could paint a blue arrow on my head and everything, too bad no one would get the reference.


    Right now though I''m turning the red regal look into something a little more modern. Father has a good looking face, slim and tall in profile though much sharper than Gable''s. He does tend to hide one side, the one with his temple scar, more than the other. Alright then, don''t worry father, I won''t make you look horrible!


    Maybe just a little chicken like but you can pull it off!


    I don''t have a paper but the old fake barber gave me chalk and a slate. That does a much better job than drawing in the dirt.


    "Huh, a little funny but I think I can do that. Well, Freddy, you asked for it."


    "Do I even get a look?"


    "In a few minutes, you can look all you want when it''s on your own damn head boyo."


    "Chip?"


    "Hehe in a few minutes father!"


    True to the fake barber''s words, in 10 minutes he''s finished with hardly a stray hair out of place.


    "What! No, wait this actually looks good!?!"


    I was going for a chicken like hair! To be more exact, since father has that ikeman face, I was going to go full visual kei on him. Something a little more absolutely hilarious.


    But the medium-length side part turned out making him look not like a chicken but a golden era Kpop star!


    What is this is? He doesn''t even need to dye his hair, it''s already the fashionable shade of auburn and has perfect volume. No no no I want a refund and I didn''t even pay anything!


    I''m only two years old, don''t make my heartbeat over my own father, that''s disgusting!


    "Oh, not bad at all Chip. It''s certainly different but I think I could quite get used to this, the breeze on my neck is rather nice. Haven''t felt that in years."


    Oi! Stop admiring yourself in the mirror! This is not fair! I am angry over the lack of humiliation here! The lack of chicken bangs! How dare you look like a teen idol in that style?!


    "Stop being gross." is all I can get out.


    I guess it can''t be helped, good looking people look good in anything. It''s a shitty rule of the universe. I can only hope the good genes translate well in me.


    "I quite like it actually, shame you think it''s gross still. Oliver?"


    "Alright then Freddy number 2, up you go."


    That''s fair, it''s my turn. Wait who is Freddy #2?!


    Anything short is fine as long as it''s not too ugly, otherwise, I rather shave it all off. Father turns to the faker barber, and gives the order with a heart-poundingly dangerous smile that is both sadistic and fond.


    "Give her the same thing."


    Eh?


    Ehhhhh?!?! Matching hairstyles! That''s as gross as it is lame, hey wait not the chicken hair! That can only look good on a certain type of slim face, wait no! I''m a mochi! The face of a ball of dough, I''ll actually look like a chicken. Stop it, no! Noooooo!!!!!!


    -------

 57 Grinding Stone

    "Darling, whatever have you done to our daughter''s hair?"


    "You''ll have to be more specific my love, I believe we went over the hair cut at least a week ago now."


    Hello, this is Rosalia again and I''m back to living my lazily productive life as the eldest young miss of the Ventrella household. Why am I talking to myself again? Eh whatever, gotta keep myself sane and entertained somehow.


    It''s dinner time right now and even though I''m very small I can sit at the table all by myself. Granted I need to aid of many seat boosters and cushions I have long been capable of staying upright and dining on my own. Not even Lilyanne gets that privilege yet, we''re still working on that. She enjoys everyone doting on and feeding her though so it''s not bad to let her just be.


    Like father said it''s been over a week since I got my hair initially cut. That turned out....traumatic.


    I have since learned that if I brush down and keep my side bangs pinned or tied down with something, I can avoid looking like a chicken or similarly feathered bird. Lately, mother has been fond of using a bow or ribbon on me, which helps a lot.


    Seriously what looks good on one person does not necessarily look good on others, do not attempt kpop idol hair when your face resembles a chubby mochi.


    "Yes dear, while I still don''t forgive you for that I understand the matching trim. What I don''t understand Frederick is why you insist on turning our daughter into a mini you."


    "What!?!"


    I spit out food before I can choke on it. When did I start becoming mini father? First the old fake barber and now mother, who else is seeing this?!


    "Maria my beloved, I don''t quite understand what you mean or how this is even connected to her hair."


    "Frederick, my love and life, what I am asking is why in the world has our Rosa''s hair become red?"


    Choking, not eating but still choking. What do you mean my hair is red, I''m clearly a brunette! Rosalia has rich chestnut brown hair from childhood to when she grows up. She''s Lilyanne''s identical twin, though for some reason I can recall teen Rosalia being frustrated at how Lilyanne''s hair always seemed fluffier.


    What nonsense is mother going on about now?


    "It''s not red dear."


    "Her hair is turning red darling! Just look at her next to Lily!"


    Mother holds out a giggling toddler in a brand new dress that resembles a fluffy peach sheep. Yes apparently this is what mother has been up to while father and I were making out farm side escapes, she went shopping. Lilyanne, and me by extension, now have an expanded wardrobe of frilly things we don''t need.


    It''s very cute on Lilyanne though so I''ll excuse it.


    Though mother is holding out my little sister like she''s the key piece of evidence in a court case I really don''t get it. Lilyanne looks as sweet, lovely and dopey as usual. While I admit we''re not as identical as we used to be as of late, she''s still my mirror.


    Father seems to take a double-take though.


    "Well, I wouldn''t say it''s red still."


    "Are you waiting for her head to turn into yours?What are you even doing Frederick, I can excuse the boyish cut but certainly not dye."


    "Maria I do solemnly swear I had nothing to do with this."


    "Oh Frederick, I wish I could believe you I wholly do."


    Wait wait wait is there something seriously wrong with everyone''s eyes or is it really me?


    "Mother & Father! May I have a mirror?!"


    It takes a while but mother''s maids come carrying a large silver mirror. At first, I don''t see anything out of the ordinary. Obviously I look a little tanner from the summer playtimes excursion.I''m very boyish compared to Lilyanne, my hair is much shorter than her strong milk tea curls after all. We look like twin brother and sister instead of perfectly matching, no big deal.


    Then I see it.


    Highlights! WTF!?!


    Somehow I have naturally reddish highlights!? That isn''t right, even though it''s not exactly red yet it''s obviously a whole different color next to Lilyanne! What''s going on here!?


    "What!!! When did my hair turn red!?!"


    "Well Chip, it''s not really red."


    "Mother when did it turn red!?!?!"


    "It''s reddening, our daughter''s hair is reddening and I blame you entirely Frederick."


    "I really don''t see how this is my fault."


    Shut up father, as the natural redhead in the room you are is not allowed to speak! First, the matching chicken cut and now this! Obviously you are the party at fault!


    When did this cursed gene kick in huh? The original Rosalia did not literally have rose colored hair!


    Seriously what is going on here?


    Did I change so much that I butterfly effected my hair? Is this a magic thing? What if I''ve messed something up in the timeline? What does this mean?!


    In the middle of my internal panic and monologue, father''s hand brushes through my short tresses in contemplation. He looks back and forth between and a curly-haired angel and a baby red chicken as if he could suddenly figure out what went wrong.


    "It must be all the sun dear. Our Rosalia does enjoy being outside and she''s not keen on her bonnets. Even my own hair would turn in the summer when I was younger. I must have taken her out to the farmlands excessively as of late."


    "Oh dear...so it really is your fault."


    "Maria!"


    "She won''t really turn carrot red, will she? Oh my poor Rosa! No worries, Mama won''t let that happen! Hats, yes we''ll get more hats ordered! If you don''t like your bonnets there are many more styles! Ih they''ll be lovely!"


    "Maria, light and love of my life, I know you mean well but isn''t that just more shopping? And what''s wrong with red hair? You said you like my hair."


    "Oh Frederick, my dearest and most tender love, you know I do of course. I adore you and everything about you. And I''m so glad your head has darkened to your handsome shade over the years. Oh, you''re right darling, it will be fine even if Rosa turns into a carrot, she''ll just grow out of it as you did!"


    "...I wasn''t that bad."


    "Of course dear."


    Huh, that makes a lot less worrisome sense! Genetics and sun exposure explains everything.


    I take a huge breathe and finish my meal while mother and father politely argue, or is it flirting? I can never tell with this gross couple?


    Whew, no time mess-ups yet, just some sun-faded hair and a healthy tan.


    What a nice body though, I''ve been playing outside so much and haven''t received a single sunburn. How nice and refreshing compared to the years I spent shielding myself from the sun''s rays in fear of darkening my porcelain fair skin.


    Beauty standards are weird.


    I should be more careful though, sunburns are unpleasant. Should I look into making sunscreen? Carrot seed oil and raspberry seed oil is supposed to have a high SPF, haha how ironic. They''re all red themselves!


    Write that down Abigail, we''re testing that out later. Raspberries should still be available right now. We just need to get enough of the seeds to make oil! There are too many carrot jokes going around right now.


    Father and I have since returned to the farm only twice for shorter day trips to oversee the progress on construction of the new watermill and farming system. Father has unfairly ridden off to work on the farming community without me a couple of times but it can''t be helped. He''s the acting ''Lord'', laaaaaame. Well, it''s fine,he does a better job than Grampa.


    Word is slowly getting out that builders and craftsmen, or women, are needed with the implemented plans. I wonder if this will increase the economy of our land? It''s too early to say yet.


    I really didn''t expect such work needed to be done nor for this farmland project to grow the way it did. But there''s just so much lacking, it''s hard to ignore.


    Roads can easily be packed and graveled if not better paved, irrigation ditches dug, and heck some better outhouses? Why not? It''s bearable with enough sawdust, greens and maybe some citrus. Human compost is still very risky but it''s better than what people are doing with their waste right now!


    And this is just the bathroom talk.


    So much to do.


    Father isn''t stopping with his beloved butter churner either. He keeps drawing and drafting designs for different things.


    While he doesn''t seek me out or anything, I can''t help but be curious. The good thing is that when I approach him first he doesn''t bother hiding a thing and offers to let me look and ramble my thoughts as I please.


    Personally I can''t make sense of half the things he''s working on. There are so many wheels involved I feel like I''m looking at the inside of a clock tower. It''s very cool looking though, very detailed.


    More importantly, these things will actually work! I have full faith in father''s design despite only knowing about his skills for a short time.


    He got his hand-crank butter churner made and it works perfectly!


    Seriously wtf, I''m still so confused how this is happening? Out of curiosity, and pure simple greed, I''ve asked if he could possibly design and commission other things with all his wheels. It was a challenge he gleefully took too seriously.


    Father, aren''t you a politician? Shouldn''t you be back at court or something doing whatever it is noblemen are supposed to do? You''ll be knocked out the running for prime minister at this rate!


    Even though I got him to start making me a variety of things already, I am worried for him.


    Why am I seeing you around so often now? Go back to work!


    But apparently focusing on his own home territory and physically improving it still counts as work. That actually makes more sense.What the hell do nobles do in court anyway? Besides arguing and scheming against each other that is.


    Well not my business, I''d a toddler.


    Until the building projects are more stable, I guess we''ll just be seeing more of father around at home.As much as he teases me, it''s not like we don''t get along. How strange, when did that happen?


    Wasn''t Rosalia always intimidated by her perfect nobleman of a father? She really was a sad and misguided little girl, father is such a nerd.


    Mother is certainly pleased at least, which releases me from her overprotective supervision. I''m still not used to her changed behavior. I get that she''s more protective of me since I''m Lilyanne''s battery lifeline but it''s not that serious, even Gable said so. Please go back to casually forgetting about me mother, I beg of you. I''m so borrrrreeeed in your room all the time. I''ve even started counting the shoes, currently, I''m at 87.


    Let me go back to my soaps and anti-famine research.


    Fighting father! Go distract mother with your scandalous Mr. Darcy shirts! You''re my best hope at the moment, I need my opportunities to escape!


    Maybe go have a horseback riding or orchard picking date or something?


    I''m a brilliant event planner because my suggestions do work. Sorry Lilyanne, you''ll be fine without me to play with for a bit right? Yes just take another nap and maybe vomit on the maids a bit, big sis has some work to do.


    If I can''t be out on the project sites of the farmlands as much as I like, and it''s not charging day in the troops, that means I can get back to my personal projects!


    I do not have a lab but if anyone asks, it''s the stone store rooms outside by the kitchens.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    Lilyanne and I are at the age where it''s perfectly normal for wealthy children to have plenty of toys. Unfortunately, I am not a real child and these ''toys'' hold no interest to me.


    Seriously is that supposed to be a rabbit or something? Why is it carved from wood and filled with sand? I want something fluffy and huggable. The dolls here are just too creepy looking, keep them away from me. They look haunted!


    Since I am an odd child, as of late father has been designing and working with the builders to make me my own requested ''toys''. More equipment! That''s what I''ve been bothering him about when I peek at his work.


    He gets to draw more wheels and butter churner spin-offs and I get some actual hardware.


    It''s a win-win for the both of us!


    The larger items will take much longer to source the material and construct properly but I already have some smaller items made. For example, his ''butter churner'' has been simplified to a hand crank whisk!


    Soap making productivity is up and our arms and wrists are very grateful for the invention.Though I do know the chefs prefer my original classic ''whisk'' commissions.We need to get more of those made regardless.


    Another new favorite tool of mine is a kitchen-sized stone grinder! How absolutely rural right? Father loves it even more than I do.


    I say rural but it''s a greatly improved design between the giant oxen led stone mills and the mortar & pestle that the kitchen staff currently uses. The kitchen-sized grinder that I''ve had made is essentially a stone mill for rice and soybeans that I used before back then.


    Just a shame we don''t have soybeans, I miss tofu and soymilk. Also, it isn''t rice season yet so we couldn''t get that much from the farms. What a shame.


    It has a very aesthetically pleasing minimalistic look on the outside but conveniently grinds very well. Far better than a mortar and pestle. I based the design on the smooth and pretty Japanese grinding stones I''ve seen before. They''re all lovingly made by this world''s professional stone meisters thus ensuring the quality of the stone and long term usage.


    As you can tell, all sorts of craftspeople are not only going crazy over the additional paychecks but the designs themselves. It''s not a lie to say Father created them since he is the one making sense of my charcoal doodles and rambling explanations. It''s his final versions that get produced into actual things.


    What an unexpected blessing. I can make soap and bread but it''s not like I know the mechanisms that go into making butter cranks or milling stones. Having Father as a designer and liaison is a lot more convenient than searching for a competent enough craftsman who''s actually willing to listen to me.


    The only real issue is that my new toy is not only ''my'' favorite.


    My kitchen staff has been going crazy turning everything that can possibly get their hands on into powder or paste. There has been purree soup served at every single meal since we got this thing made. As tasty as the summer soup menu is getting, we can start a mushy baby food company at this rate.


    Stop I want to use my stone mill too, stop playing with and dirtying my toy!


    I''ve only commissioned two of these things but it looks like the Ventrella house will be needing more. A lot more.


    The cafeteria staff is already asking for them, Mr. Boar even visited our mansion''s kitchen the other day to play with the grinder.


    "Excellent, like this we don''t have to depend on deliveries for flour. We could essentially make our own."


    "Um...yes but only in small batches really. Could you put....the grinder back down now?"


    "Such an amazing thing, you could essentially make anything into flour. Anything!"


    "As long as it fits into the top whole yes. I would recommend toasted seeds and- ack Mr. Boar you don''t need to spin it!!!"


    Truely bakers have strong arms, he''s lifting and twirling with it so happily. I get it already, everyone wants their own personal food processor and mill.


    "Hahahahah who needs wheat?! Say we can''t have more wheat? We can make anything! Anything!!!"


    Well, can''t say I hate his enthusiasm. Work hard in your flour grinding research then Mr. Boar, it will be very useful I''m sure.I''ll look forward to your progress. Fighting!


    I suppose the artisans and craftsmen will be very busy for the foreseeable future, and so will I.


    What happened to my lazy life plan? I wanna be lazy like Lilyanne too! Just without the whole being locked up by mother part.


    Hey hey hey is it my turn to play with the stone grinder yet?


    Everyone?


    Listen to your boss, me! Gimmie back my toy people! Hey wait no, you really should not try grinding that, oh no, don''t you dare dirty my toy! I''m telling father!


    ...Wait, what did I just say? What kind of cheesy child antagonist lines just left my mouth?


    Oh no...I really am turning into a villain. A very ineffective villain though, seriously it''s my turn to play! Shoo shoo I need this to make new soap!


    ------

 58 Stamp and Seal

    In this world, each person of some standing would have their own stamp. Be it their initials or a family crest, something that would act as an identifier. It was equivalent to both an ID and a signature.


    If you could afford it you would get the stamp professionally carved or perhaps enchanted.


    If you could really afford it you would get it magically and professionally carved along with an old fashioned enchantment.


    Typically most people don''t need to have one made until they''re closer to the age of adulthood. For many nobles though, they get theirs early. They''re often made as a present when a child reaches 5 or 6 years old or the age of their second baptism.


    Well, I''m getting mine super early then since I''m not even 3 yet.


    Surprisingly it was Grampa who brought it up. It wasn''t even about both of us like Grampa usually talks about when addressing Lilyanne and I. This is something just for me, how''s that for a change?


    Obviously, because I need it more but still very nice. If the original goods heard about this she might be dancing on her grave. Was that too soon? I mean I still feel bad for her but at the same, I''m sort of still her?


    That would explain the oddly satisfied feeling inside me. Yes, it must be the original body''s feelings that are welling up inside me again.


    It''s rather inconvenient feeling things so intensely but it can''t be helped with this body. It''s also that of a small child''s, it''s normal for it to be so sensitive. Kids are odd in that way, everything they feel is heightened for them.


    Yes, that would put things into a better perspective.


    It''s a very interesting experience.


    Back onto the topic of making my crest, it appears grampa has invited a master craftsman, or well woman,over to help create one for me.


    I can''t help but be at least a little suspicious since the last time grampa initiated something on my behalf I ended up being thrown like a football and wandering the wild woods on my own. I''m actually still not eased in my suspicion, gramps doesn''t have a lot of evidence to assure me otherwise.


    In a case like this, I''m reassured by mother''s normally annoying hovering. I don''t think she''s quite forgiven grampa for his last stunt.


    No one should, really as much as I love Gable and the time I spent with him please let''s not excuse throwing toddlers into the wilderness for character building. There''s has to be a better method around here.


    "I still think it''s a tad too early papa." muttered mother with a pout.


    "Well sure it would be if our Rosa here were the typical child. But we know our troublemaker far better than that!" bellows grampa with an overly familiar cheek pinching at me.


    Grrr why does everyone always go for the cheeks? I''ll have a stretched out face at this rate!


    "If it''s about the things for the villagers then Frederick darling can handle all that. "


    "Yes, for the most part, he certainly can, by all rights they are his designs. He''s a smart lad, a tad strange in the head -"


    "Papa!"


    "But that''s what makes him good! I like strange and unusual! Still a little too skinny for my taste but"


    "Papa..."


    "It would have been terribly boring if you had married those other deadbeat counts or whatnot. Remember the short mustached fellow? Or the giant toad from the capital that followed you around before I stuck him to a-"


    "And that''s enough of that papa, Frederick and I are very happy with the present and are very normal. Did I say that part clearly? Normal!"


    "Of course my dear, whatever makes you happy! Yes Frederick is a responsible normal, not at all strange, man but if our Rosa is anything like her papa or granpapa it wouldn''t hurt to have her crest ready and made. I have a feeling she''ll be tinkering a lot more in the future, don''t you Maria? Yout don''t want others stealing our little Rosa''s things and ideas no?"


    Mother gives a long sigh at grampa''s dramatic gesture to me and I suddenly feel it''s directed more at me than old gramps. Hey, what''s that supposed to mean?!


    "Yes, I do suppose so. She does love her soap making."


    "And bread baking!"


    "Oh yes, the items being commissioned for the kitchens keep increasing. Of course, I only hear good things about them but my goodness, Frederick dear just won''t stop spoiling our Rosa here."


    Spoiling? Excuse you mother, I''m making very important contributions to the culinary world here. Also, who are you to judge? How would you enjoy your favorite fluffy omelets without the invention of the whisk? Or all my other lovely concoctions?


    Oh, and the beauty products, how you use so much of them you can''t possibly complain!


    "Of course dear, and I love them so! We''re not saying they''re bad right papa?"


    Oops, did I say some of that out loud again? Huh, what a terrible habit, I gotta work on keeping my inner monologues inner.


    "That''s right munchkins, I love whatcha call it? Bita chips?"


    "They''re pitas grampa, pita chips."


    "Yeah those! Once you start you can''t stop eating them if you have some of those dips. And your little soaps get out old bloodstains better than anything else but a cleaning spell! Fresh ones too!"


    "...Papa."


    "What? Blood is serious concern Maria, you know that. You and Gable always nag me about it."


    Huh, bloodstains were not my first train of thought when making soap but good to know. That''s another market segment that makes sense in this still violent world. I guess the troops'' laundry soap requires a little more specialization with the scuffs and messes they get into.


    Should I experiment with liquid cleaners, maybe with salt or vinegar? That works on blood.


    It''s not like there''s any bleach around here. I mean we technically could try making make bleach or at least chlorine, we just need brine, saltwater and a low electric current to hmmmmm....


    ....Yeah, we don''t have the equipment for that, far from it. Let''s not touch on that subject right now.


    I rather not poison or electrocute myself or my staff. Chlorine gas poisoning is not ok. Let''s not fly before we can even walk.


    Bleach is a lot trickier to make than soap, a hell lot tricker. How about we start simpler and experiment with soda ash made from seaweed, yeah that sounds a lot safer.


    "See Maria, she''s making that face of hers again. I would know, I go through it myself! She''s only going to keep tinkering, best be ready and have her crest ready to stamp and seal on all her future endeavors. "


    "Oh dear papa, it''s her idea face again. Oh it resembles Frederick''s much more than yours but that doesn''t make it any better."


    "Huh, shame, my face is better. Even her hair is turning into Freddy''s."


    "Oh Papa don''t say another word, we can still stop it before it really does turn red."


    Excuse me? See this is why it''s better to go off in my own little world, at least my thoughts make sense and are productive. And for goodness sake, my hair isn''t red! Or well it isn''t red just yet, let''s be diligent and keep my sun hats on this summer!


    "Can we get back to my crest now?" I interrupted their familial chatter.


    "Oh of course darling! Papa tell her." cooed my mother as she turned her attention back on me.


    I''m currently safely in her arms and lap so grampa doesn''t get tempted to go through any more games of toddler throwing. Again last time he passed me like a ball to a giant bird in flight, it''s a little too soon for everyone to get over just yet. Especially me!


    "Well before we can get you crest crafted and sealed, you need to make a mold. We''ll cut and craft it out of woodblock stamps first to figure out what you like. "


    "Okay, so like a first draft?"


    "Exactly! That a sport,you can explain to Tai here what sort of things you want to be carved or you can try to draw it out for us. Your papa says you draw a lot for him."


    "I can draw my own?''


    "Oh darling, you could if you wanted to but it''s better to let the nice craftswoman here do it for you. Now what you like Rosa, oh perhaps something with a rose in it? Like your name, oh that would be lovely and Lilyanne could have a matching one! REally that makes much more sense than what your father was joking about."


    "I quite liked Freddy''s idea!


    "Papa really now?"


    "Bread was hilarious, or a pizza! Now everyone would recognize you with that!"


    Denied, all of your ideas are denied on principle alone. Especially father''s, the bread jokes are going too far by not stopping!


    Though it is true I''m at a loss on what to select, it''s not a hasty decision to make in one''s life.


    While one could change their crest in the future it costs a lot of resources and there''s the recognition power. When the magic is sealed with your specific stamp and identity it takes a lot to modify or undo that. Most people who choose their stamps in their ''adult'' years only ever stick with one.


    Grampa has the original domain name style of a crest. It''s just his initials, RV, in a bold blocky font that he carved and sealed himself years ago. At best he''s scratched a line underneath it, nothing fancy yet it''s the most recognizable crest in the world.


    To anyone else who has the same initials and just wanted a simple identity stamp, or crest, too bad. Grampa''s got it magically copyrighted, or at least Gable did it for him. Everyone else has to have a different design or something.


    Mother has kept hers the same all these years too. It''s a star above some waves meant to look like ocean waves with her curving at the bottom. A very tasteful and timeless design, I believe Gable helped her with it when she was a child.


    Hey, I want Gable''s help too! He has good taste!


    I have no idea what Gable''s crest is. He rarely comes out in public and thus never needs to use it as of late. Though I don''t think he''s kept the same one he has when he was a prince all those decades ago.


    If someone does change their then it''s more often modified or added on to. Such as in the case of a new hero wanting to add in a symbol of their achievements of a newlywed bride who wanted to better match her new identity with her spouse.


    A good example of this is my father.


    He''s the bride in this example, the one that changed his identification crest when he married over. Previously it was his initials over a background of a bunch of fanged serpent like creatures, rare but native to this world, swirling around in a snake-like knot, consuming one another.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I suppose it looks regal and imposing with all the little details, at least it''s an easy recognizable family crest. It''s supposed to mean something like eternity and connection with the family but obviously that was something father didn''t care for.


    Not only did he replace his last intiel to a V for Ventrella but he entirely droped the B from his paternal family''s name rather than just move it over like most brides do. Then he did away with the wormy knot circle that''s so iconic to theBicchieri''s.


    Instead, it''s his cursive hand-carved initials front and center with a sole peaceful sea serpent on the side. The creature has large, almost cute, big eyes and its mouth is closed showing no teeth as it swirls and borders his initials, though it''s sharp claws are definitely still out. In a way, it still keeps its knot like entanglements but with the leaves of an olive tree branch rather than other serpents and such. Waves at the bottom resemble both mother''s and grampa''s crest.


    This is a great example of a heavily modified crest change!


    I do know it caused a ruckus among gossipy circles when father first changed it. The implication of father completely turning himself over to the Ventrella family line and turning away from his paternal family. While it''s not unheard of for men to marry over into their wives'' higher ranked families, they would do away with their previous household to the extent father did.


    It still is quite a topic of interest and considered a symbolic slap in the face to the Bicherris. Nobles with nothing to do live for this sort of read between the lines drama.


    In father''s defense though he did marry over to the most powerful side, mother''s and grampa''s family line. Like anyone could outrank or out class the Hero Ronald.


    As displeased as father''s family was it all legally played out, and so he smoothly and very publically transferred his crest and identity over.


    Grampa, as the world''s hero, doesn''t concern himself with rank and rules of the old nobility and immediately loved the idea. It didn''t matter what magical seals were already locking down father to his old crest, it was easily overridden with the Ventrella magic and resources. Rumors say it was mother who personally smashed and broke his old crest stamp after the magical seals were overridden. How dramatic.


    I don''t know how true this is but good for her.Go get your man and don''t let anyone stop you mother! She''s very vicious when she''s mad.


    But what should I do for myself?


    The past Rosalia really did have a rose like mother suggested, or well, roses. A barrage of a wreath of fat roses that forested her sharp initials R.T.V. It looked impressive, can''t deny that. Very shoujo with all those rose petals. Rosalia preferred to use red wax or ink when using it and it really looked like a mini rose bouquet.


    Or a little blood bath, how fitting for the bloody murder victim me. Ah there''s my dark humor, I was wondering where it went as I seem to be matching my childish age more and more often lately.


    My twin Lilyanne had a simpler more elegant matching wreath of lilies for her crest with her thin flimsy handwritten copy of L.M.V. in the middle.


    While they''re not a bad design it feels wrong to reuse it, Not only does it no longer suit the person I am now, but I feel as if it''s a bad omen to reuse that identifying crest.


    It''s also boring!


    Roses were the most popular flower back in my old world but they aren''t even in my top 10 favorite flowers. There are so many other more interesting kinds. They''re too overrated and overhyped in my opinion. At least they''re easy to illustrate. Just pretend you''re drawing a cabbage, add a stem and tada you got a rose!


    "The little lady doesn''t have to pick a design just yet, I''m here so you can play around with ideas." said the craftswoman.


    She''s pretty short but I like her monocle, it''s really cool looking.


    "That''s right rascal, just ask and Tai can carve anything up in no time at all." laughs grampa.


    There''s plenty of little blocks of wood by Tai''s side and she already unrolled a leather case of some old worn looking tools. They''re not in bad condition, rather they looked well used and loved. The blocks themselves look so fun, any of them can be a simple stamp or anything? Isn''t that just great, there''s so much potential in that alone!


    If I had something to print I''d even request and commission a printing press with all the pieces.


    I know for certain that''s a thing this world lacks. That''s why books are so expensive, everything is written and copies by hand and then magically copied.


    For a world where magic is super rare, we sure do rely on magic a great deal too far. Non-magical people can do stuff too you know. I''m not just saying that because I''m bitter and non-magical myself. Being the negative to Lilyanne''s positive battery does not count because it does NOT do anything. Like being a squib.


    At first, I wanted to sarcastically ask if she could carve up grampa but knowing him he''s going to turn into a request to make another statue of himself. The world has too many of those so I shall spare us that result.


    To be honest I like grampa''s design the most, the first domain name syndrome. It''s simple, too simple even and yet it makes so much of an impact. Just like that of an expensive brand name logo. Huh, branding power and eh?


    Since that''s sort of my specialty why don''t I just copy a famous brand name''s idea? Not car brands of course, no more cars. Oh god, I don''t want to remember those months my company assigned me to work on luxury cars! My brain is filled with enough seemingly useless information!


    In terms of concept, I like vintage Coco Chanel''s streamlined simplicity but that sort of logo doesn''t suit me or my initials.On the topic of famous french brands, neither does Louis Vuitton, it was never my style but I do like how they styled the main logo.


    LEt''s go with that then, for my initials, an R and a V strategically stacked on top of one another. It borrows grampa''s powerful brand name reputation but is different enough to be recognizable.


    "Can I have my initials like this?" I ask as I sketch out the idea on chalk and a slate board.


    They''re much cheaper than paper and I previously bought a bulk amount for all the poor staff that I''ve forced into adult reentry education. No one complains though, what good students they are, for now at least.


    "Oh well that''s interesting, looks like a whole new letter." remarks Tai, tapping her chin with her gloved finger.


    "Just the R and V then? A little lady like yourself probably wants a little something extra wouldn''t you?"


    "Rosa darling, the nice lady is right, it is a little plain even if it is....strange. How about some roses? Or something to match with your sister later when she makes hers?"


    "Oh yeah, I forgot about matching with Lilyanne."


    It''s not mother''s fault for thinking that way. If I had twins I''d try to match them up too, it''s adorable. Shame she got me instead of two Lilyanne''s though...actually I''d be very concerned if there were two Lilyanne''s out there.


    That''s a lot of dumb chaotic power to be left unchecked. My sister''s lucky to be so loved and protected as she is because otherwise, she''d make a very attractive victim for, well anything. No street smarts in that pretty little head of hers.


    "Papa you''re being awfully quiet all of a sudden. What do you think?"


    *sniff*


    "Uh...grampa.....are you crying?"


    "Oh dear, papa take my handkerchief."


    Oh god I think he is. What weird mood swing is he in now? Mama hold me! This can''t be good, don''t let the crazy old man play football with me again!


    "I''m just....SO TOUCHED!!!"


    Mama help! I mean - mother don''t you dare let go of me, I don''t trust grampa when he''s like this one bit! He''s too unpredictable!


    "To think you admired me so much to copy after my crest."


    "...what? Grampa we have the same initials."


    " A homage! Oh to gave such a devoted grandchild, such adulation! A heartfelt sentiment beyond all of the honors and awards mankind can think of!"


    "We literally have the same initials!"


    "I expect nothing less of my first grandchild! Also from a child''s of Freddy''s BUT more importantly I expect nothing less but am deeply moved none the less!"


    "...Mother?"


    "Be nice to your granpapa dear, he''s getting old."


    "But he''s always like that, it''s not about being old. "


    "Yes my darling Rosalia, I know. And we love your granpapa regardless. "


    In the end with some more input from mother and playing with Tia we''ve decided to add an extra touch to my copyright infringement stamp. In a manner similar to my father''s sea serpent modified crest, I''ve chosen to place on the side a half curved leafy stem with a closed rosebud. Right at the mouth of the bud are small diamond shapes, like a spark or a star.


    It''s a subtle but tasteful detail to a crest that will be mostly circular due to the placements of my initials. In the future, Lilyanne my opt to copy my design my switching out the rosebud with her namesake flower.


    With that I''m done with the crest design and will leave the rest to Tia''s capable hands. Is everyone happy now? Mother has her rose, grampa is still being mushy about the initials that he gave me in the first place, even my rude father gets something!


    Who knew that making your own logo was a family matter?

 59 Soda Fountain

    "Don''t back down- you still got it in ya kid. Gimmie 30 more reps!"


    My arms huuuuuurt. Ack I can''t I really can''t but if I wanna be a stronger girl I have to. Aaaah my muscles! My arms! My core! Ack my thighs!


    Tamera what sort of weight training are you enforcing on a toddler!? I know I asked for it but seriously?


    Monsters, everyone in this camp is a monster. Actually it may be possible that anyone affiliated with grampa in any way is a monster! Either he finds them or they come to him, he''s a crazy monster magnet.


    I''m not saying I''m exactly normal here either but I''m nowhere near monster standards. The good news is that despite essentially being the magical equivalent of a squib, and depressingly possessing no powers of my own, I am technical magical. This means I do have the potential to raise my physical body and capabilities above that of the average person. Among the few lesser magically inclined folks out there with minor or non-noteworthy abilities, this is still a pretty good thing.


    We can be stronger and more durable than the average person. Many soldiers are favored with this sort of physical enhancement. While any human can train themselves to be stronger and have enhanced senses, those with a magical blessing no matter how minor get that physical boost. Of course, the effects of that boost depends on each person and their vessel, aka how well they train their physical body. It''s the same with magical powers, if your body can''t handle it or hold anything then there''s no point.


    I may not get fireballs or laser beams or anything supernaturally cool but I could probably throw a mean hook and punch through a wall given enough time and practice.


    Alright, let''s aim to be the next karate kid! Anyone can do it, even me! Wax on wax off!


    Ow ow ow except Tamera is not peacefully teaching wax on wax off, she''s a freaking drill sergeant. My poor muscles, I''m going to need a soda after this.


    This season''s batch is tart cherry plum flavor instead of just kackleberry.


    Funny thing is the kombucha ''sodas'' minor healing effects really work well on muscle soreness.


    My soaps are in the process of experimentation and curing.


    Bread and all culinary experiments go back to food consumed daily by my household, staff and the cafeteria troops.


    I haven''t made a single cent from all these endeavors.


    I don''t mind that yet, I''m still quite young. I still have a few more years of relying on my family funds. While I have high hopes for my skincare it won''t due to be too hasty and enter the market with unreliable products. And I''m not trying to cause another famine by hoarding food and recipes, quite the opposite.


    If it weren''t for the Ventrella family money I''d be in debt right now with all that I''ve spent. Though I''m pretty sure the amount is mere pocket change for many noble houses, not just my own. It might cost what, less than two brand new ballroom outfits that mother likes buying from the capital? Just an estimate.


    I really didn''t expect to make back any money at all for a couple of more years.


    "Ahhh that hits the spot! I''m alive again!"


    The fizzy refreshing taste of a tart-sweet and sour beverage is absolutely perfect in the summertime. It''s no cola but the ice cold tingling with the natural fruity sweetness makes one feel like they''re on a tropical vacation for the split second they take a sip.


    The near instant muscle pain relief is also great! My fatigue isn''t instantly gone but it''s as if 3/4 of the pain and strain has been washed away by a stream of sweet cold bubblies.


    Ahhh I made an unexpectedly good thing. How satisfying!


    "Wait, hand me one too."


    "That will be 3c please."


    "How about I give you 10 fewer reps and let you aim throwing at living targets next time for the price of two sodas?"


    "A living target?"


    "Vincent, he can''t run too fast. Don''t worry it won''t be hard at all."


    "A teacher''s discount eh, very well Ms. Tamera it''s a deal!"


    "I want one in each flavor."


    "One kackle berry and one cherry plum coming right up."


    Using a rolling wagon chest and the ice stone pendent that Lukas and Gable gifted me, I can set up a cooler in the blink of an eye. I know it was made for me to wear it but it works really well in a small enough space.


    I tend to set it up before dying through whatever Tamera has planned for me on days I visit the troops. That way all the ''sodas'', transferred from my interdimensional baggie, have time to chill. After two or so hours of physical exertion, I''m ready to set up shop!


    "Sodas! Get your sodas!"


    In the shade of a big tree in the open square, with Ms. Tamera standing as both a guard and a living drinking advertisement, I have my unofficial little stand. It''s not even a stand, just a few empty boxes I''ve lugged from the cafeteria to make a counter. There''s another box for me to stand on to reach the counter.


    A chalk slate hangs from a small knife stabbed into the tallest box. It reads ''3c'', or three small coppers, each.Below is a picture of a bubbly ''soda'' bottle and a fizzy overflowing cup that I drew.


    Ah, I always wanted to do this as a kid.


    When I was little I saw on TV how other children would set up lemonade stands and sell them on their neighborhood streets. It felt like one of those ''Rites of Childhood'' things. But my parents would never let me, they saw it was too dangerous and stupid to do so.


    They were right of course, I lived in the wrong sort of time and place. There was also no foot traffic in my neighborhood. Everyone just drove home. Who would stop by my neighborhood lemonade stand? It''s not so much that I wanted to be a little salesperson, I just wanted to copy what I saw in cartoons and newspaper comics.


    It''s a little bit of a time waster when there''s so much else I could be doing but I''m fulfilling a necessary piece of childhood here. Every kid must go through a lemonade stand! Though it looks more like a makeshift bar counter than a lemonade stand, that sells better to adults right?


    I''m not doing this for any other reason, not really.


    I also like money. Who doesn''t?


    "Oooooh so the little chip is here today. Get me one of your originals please would ya Rosie?."


    "One kackle berry soda, did you finish your classes for the day Mr. Roka?"


    "Yeah those rascals sure keep me on my toes. I wish they were as well behaved as you are."


    "You can''t expect too much from 12 year olds Mr. Roka, I''ll get there one day."


    "Hey! Did you sneak off without me?! Damn it leaving me to clean up after the kids. Oh our pop and kackle Rosalia is here today, I see I see!"


    "Hello Mrs. Abhamh, would you like to try our summer flavor today? It''s cherry plum."


    "Yeah, sure why not sweetie, and another kackle berry to go, no need to pop the lid for me. Oh you''re just too cute. "


    Before long there is a little line forming at my counter bar. Nothing would happen even without Tamera keeping watch, in fact, I don''t think she''s even watching. She''s napping against the tree after finishing both her refreshing sodas.


    For the most part, my customers are regulars who enjoy the taste of the sodas and keep the secret of the muscle strain magic hush-hush. I''m not here every day and when I am the supply is limited to my cooler, which can hold max 5 dozen. I used to only place a couple in the cooler but since the popularity has soared by word of mouth among instructors and certain troop members I now stack as many soda bottles as I can fit.


    To be honest I struggle with pricing them.


    I haven''t sold anything here and it''s not like I initially planned on making bank off my sports drink sodas. Drink products don''t make as much high revenue profit as beauty does, but they''re still pretty good if you sell a high volume low cost. Also if you price drinks too high, no one would actually buy them.


    So for now at least I placed them at 3 small coppers, about half the price of a standard tavern ale.


    It doesn''t cost that much to make the sodas but the effort is high since I''m on my own with my staff here. It''s gotten a bit easier to make and store the sodas with the help of my father to design and commission more tools and containers.


    Toys mother calls them, pfffft how insulting.


    Today I''m testing out a new tool that father helped me with, aka completely designed for me. Drink kegs!


    To do this my father had to do extensive research!


    He went to the local bar.


    Without me.


    People drink ale and stuff here, they have to have some way of serving drinks. Unless they just scoop their fermented drinks from barrels, which is honestly how it''s sometimes done. Luckily he did plenty of research and got the excuse to go see ''a pub''. It was very exciting for him and he jumped on the chance to go see ''a commoner''s watering hole''.


    What a nerd.


    As I am obviously a small child I sadly was not allowed to go with him, mother forbids it. Shame, I wanted to see what a fantasy world pub looks like too. As an ideal young noblewoman, Rosalia never stepped near any places like that.


    The results I have with me today are two portable drink kegs like those you would see at bbqs or football games in my modern world. Done specifically to my requests of course.


    Still, father isn''t done with his keg research yet! Or well pub research, so much to see so much to do there he tells me. I honestly worry about his work schedule and political career.


    Though he has no problems affording the finest wines and spirits of this world all his life, he''s never had access to ''commoner''s'' drinks. Nor could he ever find a good enough excuse to step in such a bar. Really it''s no big deal, but mother disliked such rowdy places. And so he''s never gone, until now that is.


    I wanna see too! I can''t get drunk myself yet but I want to see! Do they have butterbeer!? Or mead, that''s more realistic. I want to try historical honey mead!


    Until I''m old enough for mother or when I can sneak out into one myself I will simply have to settle for father''s illustrations and his commissions.


    Today is the debut of my kegs!


    The cooler can only hold so many bottles, and those cost resources. Even if I ask for the bottles to be recycled back to me after people are done drinking it''s still something of a hassle.


    With kegs and cups, I can make my own little soda bar and increase productivity! Oh hohohoho!


    Eh? Why does my mother''s strange laugh come out of my own mouth at times? What a horrible rich girl villainess laugh? I see, that''s where Rosalia gets it from. What a bad draw of genetics.


    "If anyone is having their drinks right away, may I interest you in a soda on tap?"


    "On tap?" asked the woman that was next in line.


    It''s the eye patch lady from grampa''s last raid troop, her name escapes me but I''m pretty sure she has a fish or sea related power. See I''m doing my very best to network with the troop members as the little soda bartender. It''s better than being known as just the Lord commander''s other granddaughter, which differentiates me from the favored Lilyanne. I''m also trying my best to get rid of the bread based nicknames.


    It seems the non-cafeteria troop members are already catching on and I need to stop this before it spreads. My name is ''Rosalia'', not pizza not chip!


    "Oi did I hear sodas were here!" yells a familiar little blond head. While Yuna is much taller than me by barely being a teenager he''s still a few heads shorter than all the adults.


    "Perfect timing part timer!"


    "Ugh, it''s already so busy. What a pain."


    "Wash your hands and get back here!"


    I yell and gesture for him to get around back and help me out. Tamera is fully snoring against the tree and he has to hop around and over her.


    When did I start employing Yuna in the soda stand?


    I''m not sure how it started either but he''s always in the camps when not out on a mission or a raid, so it made sense to drag him along. I pay him primarily in food, haircare, soap and soda and while he complains a lot, he hasn''t really been against it.


    There''s a reason he stalks the cafeteria after all.


    In my personal biased opinion, he and Tamera also make my ideal ''soda'' advertising models. All perfect tans and sporty strong complexions. They''re like the cool people you see on the beach, what an ideal summer look!


    Come get your sports drink ''sodas'' and be this refreshingly cool!


    "To explain, ''tap'' is where we serve the sodas freshly poured like ale in a bar."


    I make to demonstrate with Yuna closely watching and the growing crowd of customers. The kegs have already been precooled and set up on my inner ''bar'' counter of storage boxes. I grab a cup from a stacked pile of resin like cups made from some strange sap to resemble bar glass, without the sharp breakability or cost. It''s a lot murkier than regular glass but it''s still transparent enough to see the fun fruity soda colors and bubbles.


    I''ve commissioned them to looks like vintage fountain drink glasses, how elegant yet nostalgic. On the bottom of them, I started using the design of my new crest. Now if only I had milkshakes to use them with. They would be better if I chilled them first but I need more ice stones for that.


    Tipping the sap glass at the perfect 45-degree angle, I pull flip the nozzle to the lightweight wooden kegs and let the contents freely flow and fizzle until a nice light foam forms at the top.


    Since this is the summer edition cherry plum, it gets a fun plum fruit garnish right on top. Then I repeat the process with the other keg, which is the original flavor. You can''t garnish using actual kackle berries due to explosions so I just used whatever slices of citrus fruit are in season because those go with everything.


    "And Tada! These are our sodas on tap! This way I''ll be able to serve a little bit more sodas to everyone since I always run out so fast now."


    I''m quite proud of my drink making and decorating skills. Since they don''t get to run off with the glass like they do the plain bottles, presentation matters to the customers.


    "Ohhhh they''re so cute!"


    "Is this more or less soda than the bottles?"


    "Guys I gotta say it looks a lot more. Cost wise, cups are better."


    "I''ll take 3!"


    "It looks so colorful, I want both flavors!"


    "...Is anyone else weirded out!?! Seriously do you not feel weird watching the Lord Commander''s grandchild be a barmaid?!"


    "Shhhhhhh!!!"


    "Shut up it''s cute!"


    "She honestly looks more like a little boy, what are your eyes seeing you weirdo?"


    "Don''t make it such a terrible thing good sir, these are clearly ''sodas'' not alcoholic ales. None the less do not besmirch the good serving maids of the taverns!"


    "Yeah that''s pretty rude of you."


    "I didn''t mean it like that!!!!"


    "I mean, you''re the one calling our cute little Chippy a barmaid so..."


    While the crowd reacts in their strange various ways I have Yuna practice pouring and garnishing drinks up. It''s a little more work than just grabbing a bottle out the cooler but nothing too hard. A 13 year old can easily learn something like this.


    But they''re not exactly wrong, I am proud of my hard earned drink making skills.I slaved away long and hard as a bartender all through college you know? You''re getting professional service with me here. Hmm, I should get us a tip jar for this stall. Maybe serves some snacks, as much as I hate the nickname chips are good soda bar snacks.


    "Not bad kid." says the eye patch lady as she gulps down a glass and slides the money over for two. She picks up the other and over the rim munches the garnished fruit.


    "I hear that desert scouting team is planning on half returning, some of your little cooks on that trip ain''t they?"


    "Eh, that''s the first I''ve heard of it! Yuna did you know?"


    "Nah, not a word."


    Georgie boy and a few of my cooks most certainly are on that thing as well as Amar. It''s been about two months now since they left. I don''t know how long raids are normally supposed to last but I guess since this one is so far away it would be longer than this.


    "Yeah, that''s because I just heard it myself. Switching out people, letting some take breaks by coming back. They being pretty spendy on this trip, using portal access and all. "


    "Do you not get to use portals all that often?"


    "Hard to refuel those things kid, gotta save em up for the big ones. Your ma''s old man does have the tendency to be spendy without someone watching him though."


    See, being a little soda stand bartender is already paying off. People tell all sorts of things to their bartenders. More importantly, that means my spices are coming! What perfect timing for fall! Bring home the cinnamon!


    Business goes much faster with a bigger set of hands and longer limbs helping out. Go Yuna, I''ll make you a wonderful bartender in no time. I even pulled out an empty cup as a tip jar so stop being grumpy and get to pouring!


    The counter can''t fit everyone so people take to nursing their drinks and relaxing around the shade. It''s like a picnic with no food. Eh, it''s a work in progress, like everything else I''m doing.


    Everything was going splendidly until I hear that earth-shattering booming voice.


    "What is this! A beaming summer day filled with sweet refreshments! A delightful social watering hole in my humble little camp, why what an idea!"


    "Hi grampa."


    "My dear little Rosa, your ''sottas'' are so well received!!!"


    "They''re ''sodas'' grampa."


    "Yes that''s what I said!"


    Attached to his bouncy overly energetic self is the snoozing little angel that is Lilyanne in her usual baby sling. It''s so hot but somehow she looks perfectly comfortable in between his breasts, I mean pecs. Meh, same thing.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    She sleeps so very well through all the noise and movement it''s really astounding. Maybe she''s just used to it? She sure naps a lot, even for a baby but our charging sessions must really tire her out. Huh, portals are hard to refuel eh? Not with Lilyanne here, and by extension me I suppose.


    "Yes, what an ingenious idea! To bring people together in a social well to enjoy the breeze of nature and drink the splendor of the season!!"


    "Oi is your grampa going to just stand there spinning in the way or is he going to buy something?" whispered Yuna to me.


    By being around me too much he no longer reverently calls grampa Lord Commander. That and it''s really hard to take grampa seriously when he acts like this, which he does, all the damn time.


    "Hmm, grampa? Do you want to purchase a soda?"


    "Of course my little red munchkins! Yes give me a glass! "


    "Okay that will be 3c."


    "Eh? I have to pay?"


    "Yes"


    "But I''m your grampapa."


    There he goes with the sad cow eyes. Really am I supposed to fall for that? You''re a super muscular old man, how are you doing that? Like it doesn''t work on me because grampa is grampa but wow, what a terrifying display of puppy dog eyes. Mother and even Gable are particularly weak to them for some odd reason.


    "You''re right grampa, you get a family discount."


    "A family discount! I''m so touched to be-"


    "That will be 3Cs, large coppers please."


    "Eh?"


    "Bwahahahahahahah! Your family discount is 10x the price!!! Holy moly, fuuuaaaa hahahaha." howled my part-timer from right behind me. Glad he has a sense of humor, being grumpy all the time isn''t good for his young face.


    I hear hushed snickers from my onlooking customers.


    "But Rossssaaaaaaa."


    "3 large coppers please."


    "But I don''t carry any money around here."


    "3Cs."


    "Pwetty please?"


    "3Cs, take or I make it 3s."


    "Oh the betrayal, the pain."


    "It is now 3s, grampa please pay three small silvers."


    "Rosalia!!!"


    ------

 60 Nom nom noms?

    Spices! Spices! Come home and bring me spices! Sugar, spice, everything nice! Seriously hurry up and gimmie my spices.


    Lilyanne and I are hard at work zapping the hidden gazebo again. I figure this is the portal that people are talking about that''s capable of instantaneous long distance travel. The more we power this thing up, the more comfortable the raid organizers feel allowing teams and troops to use it. That doesn''t just mean more raids but savings on costs on travel, supplies, and just the human fatigue that comes with actual traveling.


    Travel, great in theory a pain in the butt in reality.


    I would know, bleh.


    Lilyanne sometimes gets bored with the charging routine. She''s a toddler what do you expect? So we have the coax her a lot and encourage her with praises and affection. As the person currently closest to her while charge I guess that job falls on me.


    "Go Lily go! Push out all the funny feeling things. Just like a poop!"


    "Yeash!"


    "Good job Lilyanne! Keep going!"


    Too gross? She''s two and still potty training okay? Really what do you expect from a toddler? The analogy works but uh, we still keep her on the nappies, just in case. Really, she''s not quite there yet. It''s perfectly normal for her age range but do not let her go without a cloth diaper.


    She''s still a very cute and beloved baby though. Anyone who sees her is completely enamored, as they should be. She''s the blessed on in hiding after all.


    Sometimes I worry about our near future, it won''t be for a couple more years but our second baptism is coming you know? It''s an unavoidable event but I do wonder if I can somehow arrange it to be more private. More confined to the family and not announced to the whole world that Yes, this is the Dawn child like the rumors so speak. More importantly, less "by the way the twin child obviously must be of the devil" because obviously that''s how these kinds of stories work.


    If there is good there must be bad. Where there is light, shadow lurks. If the great blessed child is a twin born on the first minute of the new year, the new Dawn, then what does that mean for the other twin, born of the last minute of the old year?


    Really where did the stupid church come up with that? Superstition? I demand more hard evidence!


    Couldn''t we just have all accepted the fact that babies are just born, no really good or evil attached?


    Lilyanne just drew all the luck in the genetic lottery and got some great Protagonist quality powers.


    She also does not have as red of hair as mine now. Sure it turned a tinged warmer but yeah I really drew the short end of our genes. No magic powers and more of the redhead gene. I know we''re identical but it sure doesn''t feel that way.


    It''s not like I can just stick my sister out into the sun like a potted plant and wait for her lovely rich milk tea curls to turn red. I think father tried that for a day or two before mother got a hold of him. A worthy effort for science father.


    Maybe the church is onto something, she gets awesome genes I get not so awesome genes.


    I even got mother''s Ohohohoohoho ouji-sama laugh at certain times. Gotta be careful around that or I might as well get drill horn curls and start waving a fan around.


    "Tiwed. Gwampy Lily tiwed now. Rosa nappy!"


    "Good job Lily! Do you want a nappy or a soda?"


    "Mmm sodanappy!"


    "That''s uh...sure both..Soda first then a nap."


    "Rosa sweep too? I missie Rosa."


    Ow my heart, that was a cuteness strike. Oh goddess above all the cute genes went to her. This is exactly why she''s the Dawn Protagonist or whatever, cuteness rules the world.


    "Okay then Lily, can you stay awake long enough for a soda and snack? You have to eat lots to grow healthy and strong!"


    "Wike Gwampy!"


    "Um, you sure you wanna use grampa as the goal here? How about mama?"


    "Gwampy bigger!"


    For some odd reason she''s beating her chest like a gorilla with a very determined look on her sleepy face. Kids are crazy.


    "Uh sure, you must eat a lot to grow as big as grampa. Nom nom nom let''s get you some healthy snacks."


    "Nom nom!"


    So damn cute.


    I feed her a soda as I lead her away from the gazebo and where grampa is standing watching over us. He hasn''t left us unsupervised for a charging session yet and I doubt that will change anytime soon. Not with precious Lilyanne involved. Besides I''m pretty sure Gable threatened him to take progress notes.


    He''s visited twice since he''s left.


    Once with Lukas, once without. They''re getting along but obviously Lukas is a handful that requires some creative discipline. I said hi to him, looking exhausted but obviously much better fed and cared for, through one of Gable''s magical communication portals. Promptly hung up though when he asked why my hair "got all red".


    It did not!


    It''s still very much summer but we''re at the tail of it. The heat is unbearably intense during the afternoon which is great for my soda testing business,but our mornings are beginning to feel too cold to crawl out of bed.


    Fall must be coming.


    Time is passing as peacefully, I wonder how long it can last.


    I think that the happiest moments in my life are the ones where I don''t have to think or worry about anything. That''s why most people miss their childhoods so much. Everything is simpler, more beautiful.


    I think that if Rosalia wasn''t who she is, if I wasn''t fated to fall and die, this would be a rather beautiful little life. The truth is that I don''t think or feel very mistreated, nor forgotten. How off from what it should be. The mother and father of now seem to very much care for their eldest child. It''s....odd.


    Did perhaps, they loved the original Rosalia back then, before she was old enough to remember it? I can''t remember anything further than what I''ve seen since day one. The memory of a lonely child cursed down an even darker path.


    I can''t recall anything that ghost girl, at least nothing coherent, before the age of 5. Lonely, it was lonely, and then it was truely hell.


    I don''t know if the implications make it better or worse but it gives me something to think and chew on. 5 years old then, by my second baptism. That is my time limit of when my time comes. It doesn''t fully run out but the tutorial stage ends and I''m forced to really play the game.


    I have more time then that really, Rosalia''s fall was a slippery slope but a slope, not a cliff, none the less. By that comparison, then it starts gently sloping officially at age 5. When mother and father gives up on me.


    "Rosa! Rosa awe uo hungwi? No, no eatin yet, u can''t eat moutt."


    "Huh? I''m not, that''s called lips. I was chewing my lips Lilyanne. Sometimes people do that when they''re thinking."


    "No bad, moutt for nom nom nom food. Rosa no eat Rosa."


    "Alright, alright I won''t eat my own mouth."


    The odd tension inside me loosens with Lilyanne''s distraction. Lilyanne was oddly the only one who loved me back then, all the way till the end. That''s right, I''ll be fine when mother and father start acting according to plan again. I have myself and I have Lilyanne, I shouldn''t dwell too hard on this strange knot in my chest. It must the original body''s feelings, it just can''t let go.


    Their current likeability is already good enough, more than I was expecting initially. They actually....affectionate? I''m not sure, the idiotic couple is weird anyway. Still they really can''t be cruel to a toddler with their Lilyanne''s face, not just yet.


    Even father''s teasing and awful nicknames aren''t really all that bad, not after what I''ve been through. Though I''ll never tell him that. His mouth is still terribly rude for a supposed gentleman.


    It''s just an estimate but I''m willing to bet on that number, till I''m 5 years old. Since fall is approaching, half the year is gone. I have two and a half years left of this peace. A little over two years to build the foundations for my safety net.


    There''s no way that''s enough, but it''s going to have to be enough. I just need to hold out and hang on, building up stealthily over the remaining years I can cheat after the baptism.


    "Who is eating their mouths!? Are my girls hungry!"


    "Gwamp! Lilli push lots tooday. WOts!"


    "How wonderful! And you didn''t fall asleep right away thigs time! My Lilyanne is getting ...STRONGER!"


    "Stwong!"


    Ah yes wonderful, it''s the idiotic grandfather and grandchild routine. To be honest grampa has good enough youthful-looking genes to pass as Lilyanne''s father, just a very late one. The resemblance between them is even more striking than mother''s. Big brown cow eyes, lashes included, bright ass protagonist smiles. Ah it''s too bright, we''re technically indoors but I can''t look directly at the damn glow their protagonist halos seem to be giving off.


    Only Lilyanne is cute though, grampa''s supposed light is just obnoxious.


    It''s not just that, physically they have many resemblances or at least some that Lilyanne will grow into. Her thin eyebrows, sweet round peachy pink cheeks, heart shaped lips and face are all unfortunetly from the same gene pool as grampa. They both have soft brown curls, though Lilyanne''s is a much lighter shade like milk splashed into a latte.


    This summer though it has a hint of light red highlights coming in. Nowhere near my own sun-damaged head of hair but enough to confirm father''s genetics did play a part in creating the both of us.


    How strange that still is, how I''m changing things in the littlest ways. Rosalia never had any red in her hair, then again she never went out into the sunlight. Of course, neither did Lilyanne.


    Speaking of differences, despite being identical twins I am very much bigger. Not just older but I''m visibly taller and thicker than Lilyanne. In my opinion, I just look like a normal playful toddler. However my whole body is sturdier, limbs denser, I seem like I can handle a lot of rough tumbling while Lilyanne is still just a soft sweet little cherub.


    She''s been sleeping a lot more since out charging sessions, but she''s been getting healthier. If t''s like this her childhood fevers and spells won''t be an issue anymore. I hope my sickly little princess in the tower can grow to be a healthier and wiser person as she grows up.


    Also to be reasonable about our physical differences I do go out playing and overall exercise a whole lot more than she does. That''s mainly why my skin is tanner and hair, well you know. I also eat a lot more, always have, organic food is tasty even if it''s simply seasoned. I''d think it''s safe to say I eat about the same as 3 times Lilyanne does.


    "Actually my sticky rice cake, you eat twice that amount! It''s a great appetite for a growing hero! Your enjoyment of storing up fats and nutrients for your future is youthfully invigorating!!"


    "...."


    "Eh Rosa?"


    *SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*


    Do not mention a lady''s weight! How awfully, dreadfully, rude! I''m a healthy toddler! It means nothing to grampa''s fortified muscles so take some more of hits and kicks! Ah ouch ouch ouch I think it hurts me much more to use grampa as a sandbag, he''s like a giant wall of meaty cows.


    "Oooohhhh! So energetic! Such vigor! The target aiming for my supposed soft spots! Yes excellent progress Rosalia! See my dear Lilly blossom you must eat lots and lots more to grow stronger as our Rosa does!"


    "Right Lily, you have to practice moving more and eating a lot of good food to grow bigger like me okay?"


    "Yesh! Nom nom nom! I stwong now!"


    "Yes yes, our Lilyanne is growing stronger by the day and will only continue to do so! Both of you girls will. Did you feel anything funny with today''s session my sweet wittle bunny? Any owies or sickies?"


    "Nopies!"


    "And you Rosa? Anything different today?"


    "No, I''m still the same. I can''t feel anything nor do I get tired, it''s all Lilyanne."


    "Well if you say so my little honey bun. Remember to tell me anything so granmpapa can take care of it!"


    "I know grampa, or Gable will wring your neck for messing up the progress notes."


    "Ack! Young lady! Who taught you such terribly inappropriate things?! Oh they grow up so fast nowadays."


    "....."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I don''t think I want to understand that.


    I don''t know why grampa bothers putting up an act when it''s just the three of us. At this point, I don''t know how much is a stupid act and how much is just, well his personality. Honestly, I really think he''s just ....like that.


    I sure hope it''s a grampa specific thing and not a time-hopping reincarnation one so I don''t go ridiculously bonkers by his age. If I even live that long.


    Now that''s a thought, a middle-aged or old Rosalia. How nice. I''m barely out of the spring of my life, how nice would it be to live to see autumn. I''ve never done that before. Both times I died too young. I may have lived two lifetimes but they were both incredibly short looking back on it.That goal is too far away but it must be nice to be able to grow old.


    "Gwampi! Rosa hungwi! Wet''s go!"


    "Ohhh only your sister is hungry?"


    "Lwilli hungwi too, nom nom nom now."


    "Huh, nom nom nom eh? Did our Rosa teach you that one?"


    "Mmmm! nom nom nom is for food! Rosa say cows go moo moo and Lwilli go nom nom and cwickens go rooooooooar."


    To be fair the common chickens, not Gable''s terrifying ones, of this world kinda do roar, it''s a screeching roar. The kind of sound I imagine dinosaurs would make if they were the much smaller size of chickens. Maybe the horrifying sounds will die off as we domesticate chickens over time....maybe.


    There''s just so many strange but same things in this world. It throws me off. Don''t even get me started on the undiscovered wacky shit that can be found only in dungeons. But I''m no warrior, no magical cheat and definitely no protagonist. Such stories and adventures aren''t for me


    I admit it''s at least mildly disappointing.


    "Hey old gramps? Did you know Lily really will be strong? One day, she''s going to be scarily strong."


    "Scarily? Well I don''t know about that."


    "Yay! I''m stwong wike gwampa!!"


    "Not like you grampa, she can''t wield any weapons. She can''t take any hits or face anything scarier than a mercal kitten."


    "And that''s the way a little lady should be! Or so your mother says, shame she was such a promising heavy hitter as a child. Well to each their own happiness."


    I have no idea what that means but I don''t want to imagine it. Our sickly delicate mother as a heavy hitter in what? Dress shopping?


    Grampa picks up, one in each arm as he carries us off towards the canteen. I think he''s weighing us at the same time, damn it. Do I really eat 6x as much?


    "Hey grampa? Do you believe me?"


    "What''s there not to believe?!"


    "She has such scarily strong magic but no way of protecting herself."


    "She''ll have a way, she''s our Lilyanne."


    Yeah, a mob army of devoted followers and a not so small lovestruck harem of the land''s most eligible bachelors lead by one oh so stupid prince. They''re so strong and trustworthy it takes a group of them to murder one magicless 17 year old girl in public.Wow, what ''a way''. I am so reassured.


    "As will you! I''m sure if you don''t like somthing you''ll just make it happen yourself. As expected of our eldest girl!"


    "Make it happen? I can''t do anything grampa you know that. I''m not Lilyanne, I have no magic."


    "And you''ll make it happen anyways! Because you are Rosalia."


    The vague advice comes with what I suppose is meant to be a handsome wink, but because it is from grampa it''s just nasty. Have you ever seen a cow wink? Yeah that, awkward and maybe involves some unnatural forces, like bad photoshop. Great eyelashes though, did I get any of those eyelashes? Somehow I can''t recall little details like that, Rosalia really must have had some selective memory.


    "Then gramps, do I have the potential to be strong? No joke, can someone like me seriously be strong?"


    "Of course, you girls will grow up splendidly however you so choose! Heros or not! You''re my grandaughters after all! Hahaha!"


    Again with the vagueness! Well, what was I expecting? At least it sounds like a positive sort of vague.


    It''s too loud, really too annoying being so close to grampa when he talks or laughs. Like being next to the speakers at a concert. But Lilyanne likes grampa''s thunderous laugh and if it''s for her I''ll let it slide. I can cover my sensitive young ears though, I''m not snuggling, it''s not what it looks like.


    That''s gross.


    I''m just trapped with nowhere else to hide while I''m in the crook of grampa''s fat arm. My giggling sister on the other side.


    Lilyanne can''t go into the baby sling just yet or else she naps and I can''t be left alone without running off somewhere. Great reasoning, for trapping us, or well me, in a bear hug of a walk. Not that grampa needs any excuse to do whatever he damn well pleases. Oh well, I''ll play along now because I am indeed hungry and his long adult legs are faster than mine.


    I wonder what new things the cafeteria staff will make me taste test today?


    About two and a half years left of this dysfunctional but not so bad peace.


    The clock is ticking down for me.


    ------

 61 Grounded

    The wind blows over the dunes, kicking up a storm. A man stares, long and hard at the group, keep himself distanced even though he could be helping with the moving. But he does not and takes another swing of his flask.


    The others do not mind, some even understand and make to keep others away. They have to when he gets like this. He can''t stand the brat.


    -----


    It''s not fair.


    This morning I was a good girl. I didn''t push Lilyanne off the bed as I wrangled myself free, I diligently did my morning exercises, had my first breakfast, then quietly organized all my work and projects. When mother found me I didn''t struggle too terribly even though the poofy dress she stuffed me in resembles that of a pumpkin. See I was good!


    So why am I being punished?


    "You''re not being punished, dear."


    "I''m grounded."


    "That sounds, odd? Why would we wish to put you in the ground? Did your father teach you something again?"


    Ugh, typical.


    From the rumors I hear from my bar- err soda stall patrons and the cafeteria staff, the portal is going to be activated soon. Those who left on that far off scouting raid should be coming back soon if they haven''t ready. But I wouldn''t know because I''m not there.


    I wanted to see the portal in action!


    Mother doesn''t forbid it but apparently I go out too much as a small child. I go out with father on rides and to the farm, then I run off and stay all day at the troops. Which is not true at all, because otherwise I wouldn''t be grounded here at the mansion.


    Wow, I never thought I''d ever complained about being trapped in a mansion. Oh no, forced to sit around and do nothing in luxury, what a horror. Seriously though, when I cried from work stress about needing a vacation I really didn''t mean something has over the top as reincarnation.


    "It''s just not healthy Rosa dear. You''re a child my darling You don''t need to be out running around so much. Oh dear I don''t think that hats are doing a good enough job. Maybe it will go back to normal come winter?"


    "EH? No I''ve been diligent! Now you''re just trying to scare me, mother."


    "Come now, put down mama''s mirror. That''s enough of that."


    I continue to sulk but does as she says. Mother can afford her silver vanity mirrors but I sometimes forget these sorts of things aren''t common. They''re too expensive to produce, most people just go without or use a polished sheet of copper.


    It''s another thought to put into the idea coin jar. Ridiculously ornate but expensive mirrors that can be sold from handheld compacts to entire hallways.That would make a pretty profit. But it''s an idea to put on the back burner along with the others, I just have too many ''maybes'' and not enough time and strength to pull even half of them off.


    "Oh no no no, Rosalia Therese Ventrella I know that face. We are not having any more busy body ideas for today."


    "Yes mother."


    It can''t be helped, I used the family''s capital so I must play by their rules. If mother says it''s a play being a normal baby day, then who am I stop override her. I can only hope for an excuse to sneak out later.


    For now, though I''m trapped with mother at her desk doing household paperwork while Lilyanne and I are trapped inside the room. Sure there is plenty of space, pillows, drinks, and snacks but what am I supposed to do here? Stare into blank space giggling at the empty air?


    Sorry Lilyanne, no offense meant.


    Play date it is then.


    She''s a very normal toddler that can find amusement in anything, and I sure do mean anything. Her bunny toy unnerves me but she carries it around everywhere since grampa gave it to her. What''s even more terrifying isn''t that mangled wooden and sand-filled thing but that she has two of them. She keeps trying to force the short-eared one on me. I assume it''s not a bunny.


    "Kwitti!"


    "Ah....it''s....a kitty?"


    "Yes! Rosa is kitti and I''m bunni!"


    "I see...then that ....kitty? Is that one supposed to be for me?"


    "Mmm! Grampy pwesents!"


    "Really? I don''t think so Lily."


    "No no kwitti for Rosa and bunni for Lilli, grampy says so."


    "Okay okay just move the kitty and bunny away, yes let''s just put them down."


    I do vaguely recall when our kooky grandfather pulled these cursed things out from god knows where. Lilyanne attached herself to the cursed looking things while I must have run off. I didn''t realize one of them was intended for me. How odd?


    Is this a trap?


    I don''t trust grampa or anything he gives. What if it really is cursed? It certainly looks like it. He knows some pretty powerful and mysterious people right? But why would he also give a cursed item to his precious granddaughter? He would never give Lilyanne anything potentially dangerous. She''s the princess of this family!


    "Kwitti is for Rosa but Rosa no like da kwitti. So kwitti sad-"


    And the princess is tearing up now, all sweet sad cow eyes and all. Ah it''s tiring to mentally keep up with real babies.


    "Kitty isn''t sad Lily! Look you loved kitty so much it''s not sad at all."


    Lilyanne pauses a bit to consider the ugly things in her hands with as much contemplation an emotional toddler could produce before tentatively asking.


    "Reawwy?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Yes Lilyanne! Kitty is not sad because it has Lilyanne! Yay good job for you!"


    "Reawwy! Yay!"


    "Great so you should hang on to them."


    Just when I thought I had her convinced to keep her creepy dolls away, Lilyanne''s mood takes a turn for the worse. Her eyebrows scrunch up and her cow eyes get teary. What an amazing human water faucet. How does she turn them on and off like that?


    "Rosa no luv kwitti? *sniff*."


    Is she going to cry if I say the wrong thing?


    "Waaaaaah!!! Kwitti , poohw wwwaaaah kwitti!!! *hic**hic* Kwitti!!!"


    Nevermind, she was going to cry regardless. Hmm what to do? I could just leave her there to cry it out.


    "Darlings, whatever is the matter?"


    Mother looks up from her work and makes her way to our corner. She immediately has Lilyanne bouncing in her arms, trying to soothe her cries.


    "There there, what is now my sweet little one? Did your sister make you cry? Rosa that''s quite unusual of you to be mean to your sister?"


    "Eh? I didn''t even do anything? Lilyanne cries easily."


    "Rosalia I know you''re still upset about not being allowed out to the troops today but you can''t take it out on others, okay darling? Especially not your own little sister."


    "I''m not bullying her."


    "I know you didn''t mean it dear but it''s not okay to make others upset when you are."


    You know that feeling when your younger sibling starts crying and you need to be all ''ssssshhhhhhh, don''t tell mom''? Yeah, I didn''t even get the chance to do that, Lilyanne just cries as easily as she eats or poops. Really a terrifying skill worthy of a female lead in the future, ugh. Life really isn''t fair.


    Especially when your name is Rosalia.


    "Oh darling, don''t be upset. I''m not saying you can''t build your lovely little things but you mustn''t overdo it. I know you''re excitable but you mustn''t copy your papa and grandpapa so much. It isn''t good for you, please try to hold off until you''re a little older my dear."


    Mother says all of this while still bouncing a sobbing Lilyanne. Who I still don''t really know why she''s crying.


    "I didn''t do it but ok. I''m not copying anyone either? Why would I want to copy father, he''s terrible? And grampa is worse!"


    "I know dear, it''s all you. You''re just too much like your father, it can''t be helped."


    "What?!"


    Mother looks like an actual mom with a crying baby on one end and patiently facing another pouty one, that''s me. I''m feeling a little wronged here. Not only am I getting blamed unjustly, but it''s also a low blow to say I''m copying both the rich nerd or the old unhinged hero. How does that even work?


    The crying baby in her arms starts to tire herself out and mother has an easier time taking a seat to face me on the cushions.


    "Rosalia my dear eldest, I won''t stop you from doing the things that please you. But it is my duty as your mother to make sure you grow up safe and healthy. You''re still very young darling, there''s no need to bustle around like your father or venture off so far like your grampapa. You''ll get there one day, if you want to. I''m sure of it, my eldest is strong enough."


    Ah it''s supposed to be a serious lesson, is it? Sure sure, just nod your head and smile. Adults love that kind of thing.


    "Yes mother."


    ".....truly can''t be helped, you''re too much like him. You don''t have to do so much dear, you''ll get tired. One day you will fly away and I can''t stop you my baby bird. But not yet dear, not for a long time I hope. Until you''re a older, but even then you must rest enough and not overdo all your projects and lessons."


    "Of course mother, I''ll hold off on working my ideas too much for until when I''m older."


    "...Your father and I will always support you in what you like, so please don''t be so eager to leave and see the world. We can do a lot of many wonderful new things together okay?"


    My mother is the adult here but she''s asking me as if she were a child herself. At her age and with her pretty face it would be a very charming and convincing puppy dog face. I just don''t get why she''s asking me for permission? I don''t have any power here. I''m Rosalia. Oh well, mother says and worries about some strange things at times. Can''t be helped, she was raised by grampa after all.


    "I got it, don''t worry so much mother. No making trouble. I really didn''t make Lilyanne cry though she did it herself."


    "That''s..."


    "Mama! Rosa go away? Rosa gonna leave kwitti and Lily and mana and papa and and bwaaaahhh no want waaaaah!"


    There goes our water faucet again, just when mother got her to calm down. She starts crying and pouring, it''s really very loud. What healthy lungs! Lilyanne is developing at an acceptable rate, no sickly weakling here.


    "See she does it all on her own!"


    "Oh dear, sweetie no. Lilyanne my love all baby birds will leave the nest one day, even you will one day fly away, though I don''t know for how long or how far. But right now none of my babies are going anywhere, none of you can fly and thus are staying home nice and safe for a very long time."


    "No fliii away? Lili don''t wanna leave mama!"


    "Oh, there there don''t cry."


    Why mother is stuck comforting the sensitive little Lilyanne I''m struck with another thought. Oh god can people actually fly in this world? I haven''t seen it before but surely anything is possible with magic. Oh gods would that be cool, I really drew the short end of the magical genetics.


    Well, there''s always flying beasts I guess.


    Maybe I can just substitute flying on that giant bird thing if we ever get it some seatbelts. I wonder if Ms. Tamera will figure out a safer method. She should steadily be growing as a world-renowned beast tamer in the near future.


    Saddles? Safety harnesses?What would the stables look like?


    "Oh not again." bemoans mother. Funny, she''s patting Lilyanne in her arms but she''s staring hopelessly at me while she says that. What the hell did I do?


    Our attention is back on Lilyanne though when she jolts like a baby who just remembered a mission. It''s a little disturbing, to be honest, babies are cuter when they''re a little dumb.


    "Mama! Rosa no luv kwitti so kwitti sad. Lili luvs bunni an kwitti but Rosa has to take care of kwitti! Dat da rwules!"


    And we''re back to the cursed dolls. I guess I can just take the damn thing if it makes her stop crying. It can''t be natural for kids to be able to cry so much but it is.


    "Oh my, did papa carve these things? He''s gotten a lot better at making them cuter!"


    "Mother, excuse me?"


    These creepy deadwood looking things are cute? I''m lost in understanding this family and perhaps I always will be.


    "Oh yes, you grampapa would carve me many uncute things when I was a child. The first toy he gave me was a carved bear."


    "A Mr. Beaw?"


    "That''s....not so bad?"


    "It was a life sized rhinohide swamp bear. It was so large your grandpapa could fit me into the mouth but it was too high up. I wouldn''t be able to get out on my own for years. It was horrible but very well carved, all 3 layers of teeth and all."


    "....okay that is bad."


    "Yes these small simple things are much cuter!"


    I don''t think I would use the word cute but I can see where mother may be coming from. Just how insane was grampa is his younger days? Has he gotten better or worse over time? The answers vary per person so no one can tell.


    "Rosa! Rosa has to wuv kwitti too!"


    "Now now Lilyanne, you can''t make your sister like the same things you do. It''s not fair to force things on others."


    "But kwitti so sad, she lonely."


    "Lilyanne my precious baby girl, who''s happiness is more important to you? Your sister Rosalia or the kitty''s? "


    "Hmmmm ...Rosa. Rosa better."


    "Then you shouldn''t make your sister do things that make her unhappy to please others, no matter how sad they are."


    Wow what a wise lesson, I''m surprised that it''s actually coming out of mother''s mouth. She actually sounds like a parent, huh? Maybe she''s just this responsible way around Lilyanne. To me though it sounds very funny, given the life I''ve lived before.


    I don''t think the original Rosalia heard such a lesson, let alone know something like this applied to her. She was always trying too hard to make others happy and distracting herself from her own lack of it. She was rather pathetic really.


    So this kind of scene leaves a bad taste in my mouth, just by witnessing it. Like the bile after taste of being sick.


    "It''s alright mother, I''ll take kitty if it makes Lilyanne happy."


    "Well that''s very kind of you Rosa dear but the toy doesn''t appeal to you does it? Lilyanne your sister likes toys that spin or do things, like the buttter churners."


    "Ooohhhh!"


    Excuse you, my appliances are not toys!


    "I''ll take kitty already okay! Just let it go."


    I groan and make a swipe for the rough deadwood doll with the shorter ears. Guess we''re stuck with each other for now little guy. Ugh it''s really not cute to look at nor soft to hold. Not my idea of a childhood toy.


    Maybe I can knit a cover for it? Fill it with some cushion? Knitted animal dolls are a tad rustic but it''s very chic in some circles. It can be creative or vintage cute. Definitely better than these....things, on their own.


    "Yay! Kwitti get Rosa now! Kwitti home an happy!"


    "Yay, kitty gets a happy ending! Yay! Now everyone and Lilyanne is happy and there''s not more crying. Right?"


    "Mmmm!"


    Yeah, let''s work on knitting something to make this doll actually look like a doll. I have time, I''m trapped here for the time being after all.


    Mother seems pleased the source Lilyanne''s tears seemed to be solved. She even pats my head and smoothes down my hair for being a good older sister. Okay, maybe she''s just fixing my bow ribbon. I really am such a well-behaved child, since I''m not mentally a real child. Of course, mother doesn''t know this but I really should be given less grief then I get about random things.


    Just as she was about to either say something or head back to her desk, a senior gray maid comes knocking with a message.


    "My lady, our staff members from the troop''s excursion have returned to their posts. The head butlerhas already taken care of their arrangements and requests they be given a night and another day off to recuperate before easing back into their duties."


    "Yes of course, I leave it Alfonso capable hands. I trust they will have no issues reacclimating after their travels, they may certainly take more time off if need be."


    "Thank you for your generosity my lady, I shall be delivering the approval back to our young staff then."


    "Mother?! Georgie and the other''s are back? May I go see them, please oh pretty please mother! We have to go welcome them back!"


    "Wonderful idea, we must welcome our people back yes. Why don''t we go down to give our greetings? Oh, Rosalia, you would love that wouldn''t you?"


    "Yes! Yes let''s go!"


    They''re back, they''re back my spices have arrive- uh I mean my employees. Sorry, everyone, food rules my growing little heart and body. It''s always hungry.


    The senior maid makes a weak attempt at aversion though.


    "My lady that may not be a good idea. The returning employees are quite tired from their journey, a few are even feeling under the weather from the trip. It wouldn''t do for my lady or the young misses to be exposed to any diseases or the mess that is their return."


    "Oh no, I hope no one is down with anything serious! Shall we order for the doctor, oh of course we should. "


    "Alfonso is already on it my lady, no need to worry. Please continue on with your day as usual."


    Uh huh, how suspicious.This maid is a pretty bad liar but perhaps she didn''t outrightly lie, mother is a rather easy person to fool. It balances out. What is she hiding down in the kitchens and staff quarters? This is my domain here!


    "Mother please, I''ll be good and won''t bother anyone. But I promised Georgie and the cooks so many things, please let me go welcome them back. Pretty please, it''s just downstairs and I''m still home. Please, mother?"


    "No you mustn''t, there are those ill and -"


    Mother looks back and forth because she sincerely looks convinced by this bad liar of a maid. She means no harm though, they''re just hiding something from us. It can''t be that serious if they sent this simple sort of maid, Alfonso knows how to manage the staff. If he really wanted to he could keep something a secret.


    "I''ll be fine and wash in lots of soap, I won''t get sick so please."


    I can see mother cracking, she just needs a stronger push. Time to pull out the big guns. It shames me to act like Lilyanne sometimes since I can never pull it off as well. But it small increments, with my current tender age, it should be super effective.


    "Pwetty please mama?"


    Bullseye. She crumbles and breaks with the cuteness grenade. Cuteness rules the world. I may not be as well equipped as Lilyanne but I am experienced in working with I got.


    "Oh alright dear, remember not to get in the way of their rest. They must be awfully tired. I''ll come check on everyone''s condition later on after dinner."


    "Yay! Thank you mama!"


    With that, I scamper off, much to the reluctance of the listening maids. It''s not like that can catch me anyways, I''m too small and agile. If anything I''ll just go under their legs and crawl around the rafters. Which is exactly what I do.


    To avoid getting mother''s probably too expensive pumpkin poof dress dirty I swap it out for some simpler clothes I keep in the space bag. Then instead of running down the long way, I stealthily take the dumbwaiter to the kitchens.


    Stealthily till I arrive that is.


    Surprise everyone! Do no fear, Rosalia is here!


    But everyone in the room is shocked suprise, even me. Everyone except one person with all the wrong reactions.


    "Oh, hi Rosalia! Why are you in there? And why is your head red now?"


    "....well this is my kitchen so I can be wherever I please but more importantly, why is your head bleeding!?! That''s red!!!"


    "Oh, it is isn''t it?"


    Nearby Georgie boy, dressed in some foreign clothing, facepalms and the silence in the main kitchen room is broken. The gig is up.


    A small child is sitting on my kitchen counter messily bleeding through some sloppy bandages on his damn head and he has the audacity to laugh like he has no idea why either. Is he brain-damaged?


    Seriously why is Amar here and bleeding all over my kitchen?!?!


    ------

 62 Story Filter system

    Not to be rude or uncaring but if anyone is going to be doing any bleeding, especially a headshot, it really should not be in my kitchens. Food comes out of here, people need to eat around this shit.


    "Is a healer coming or are we going to chop and fillet him for dinner?" I ask.


    I''m not mad, really I''m not. Life happens, sometimes rather violently around here. Just someone tell me, why is he here and not in some medical quarters?


    This is a terrible thing to try to hide!


    "Oh don''t worry! It looks worse than it is, heads always bleed so much more than other parts. Eyes too! "


    Don''t sound so used to that you brain damaged brat!


    Amar is sipping juice on the tall counter seemingly without a care. While he''s not actively dripping all over my floors, there''s blood splatter on it. There is also the fact it''s literally still gushing through and down the sloppy bandage job.


    If no healer is popping him back together just yet why are we just letting someone bleed out! In my kitchen?! Do something!


    "Right away my lady!"


    Some of the staff start scrambling around as if they figured out how to move again. Ah I screamed that out loud again.


    But come on we don''t need magic to have some common sense around here. Someone apply something, some pressure, to slow the bleeding first!


    "Seriously why is he not at the healers?! What happened?"


    When I come up closer I can see how much messier the wound must be underneath the bandage wraps. It''s not clean at all and his face is still smeared in the dirt, gravel and a mix of fresh and dried blood. The wound must have reopened at a later time though it is hard to tell with all the flowing blood.


    At least his pupils aren''t dilated, and he can hold a conversation, if he has a concussion it''s not that bad. His hair must have been recently shaved close to his head, it''s much shorter than before and makes looking at the wound easier. The other side of his head isn''t looking too great either. Like a great force just smashed him into the ground. His scratched up cheek is definitely swelling like a bad slap to the face. I don''t see any other obvious injuries in comparison but the rest of him is dirty and definitely been through a banger


    There''s a lot I want to ask but no one is answering me. What the hell is going on here?! I want answers but first thing first we gotta treat the bloody kid.


    "Call Lilyanne!" I command


    The staff that is still here give me confused looks while the running ones pause. Even the ones half treating him with a wet towel. Amar nonchalantly gives his thanks and takes the towel to wipe his own damn head. Damn it''s your own bleeding wound not plain sweat, doesn''t that hurt?


    The room is back to being awkwardly silent and people try to process the very simple thing I just said.


    "Did I stutter? Bring me my sister." I command again.


    There sound of mixed mumbling follows until finally one kitchen maid, the reliable Bertha speaks up.


    "But Rosalia, the delicate young miss....she shouldn''t be exposed to such a sight."


    "Hmmmm, a valid concern. Yes this is a scary sight for a baby. Then we don''t let her see anything.Blindfold her and say it''s a game fromme, just bring her down here."


    "But-"


    Bertha is interrupted and anyone else who wants to speak up is immediately silenced by the shadow that suddenly appeared in the room


    "As you wish Young Miss Rosalia, I have sent an entourage to safely escort our Young Miss Lilyanne."


    Alfonso to the rescue! While my staff is rather loyal and quick to my whims it''s Alfonso who truely gets stuff done and organized. Whatever shall our family do without him?


    "Thank you Alfonso, I can always count on you! What the situation? That maid was awful at keeping this under wraps."


    "Forgive my intrusion, I recall the injured child is one of Young Miss'' little friends. I believe then that particular employee was the appropriate messenger to send for Young Miss and not the Lady of the house."


    "Excellent thinking!"


    Hmmm yes, mother would react rather badly to having bloody humans in the kitchen, especially children. Alfonso really is amazing to predict this to communicate to me by the lure. I actually kinda sorta legitimately fear this man. The plots he could come up with given his power and intelligence. Alfonso may actually be the most powerful person in this mansion.


    "Um can I go back the camp yet? I should report and I think the troop leader might be mad-"


    "You- shut up and hold that towel to your head."


    "But I really did leave without their permission and-"


    "Anyone with a hole in their head is not allowed to talk unless given permission. So says me, the eldest miss of this house and kitchen, which you are bleeding in."


    "Oh ok then."


    "Silence! And stay still!"


    Amar was about to nod his head in an ok when I stopped him. The damn kid is going to give himself a concussion if he doesn''t already have one. On closer inspection, I don''t think it''s so much one big hold as much as it is one lemon-sized gaping wound and a lot of ragged little ones. Like when you fall and skid your knee and get rock up there, except it''s on his head!


    Really it''s like his head was repeatedly smashed into a rock and some gravel then rubbed raw into the ground. Oh this is not a pretty picture going on in my imagination.


    "Yeah that''s about what happened, but it was some walls first and then the ground then-"


    "I said stop talking!"


    "Oh ok-"


    "Shush!"


    Okay so I have a muttering out loud habit, great we have established this and will work on it. How annoying. Wait, what seriously you were head smashed through shit till you got like this?


    I didn''t even say anything this time but the kid simply nods his head again to the questioning look I gave him.


    And now I have to have some staff members hold his head still because he is a concussed idiot of a child. Did you get him, folks? Great, moving on.


    "Alright, thank you very much for informing me that Amar is here. Now until Lilyanne arrives, someone tell me what is going on!"


    My first reaction is to look towards Alfonso for answers but he makes a very regal pass to the others in the returning group. They''re looking a little travel worn and a lot of them have on some lightly flowing scarves and are still holding their full packs, not yet put away. Out of all of them, my Georgie is the youngest, and out of all of them, he''s the one sighing loudly because it''s obviously his turn to handle me.


    "Sorry Rosalia, it''s kinda my fault here."


    "Your fault? You didn''t beat him up to this point? You don''t even have the strength to do that!"


    "I''ll have you know my strength is perfectly acceptable, baking bread takes a lot of work!"


    Well yes I would know, I''m the one who is most responsible for George''s developing upper body strength. Please keep stirring, rolling and baking my creations, thank you.But it should be nowhere near the strength it would take to defeat a troop member, 5 year old or not. They''re a ragtag bunch but they''re all extraordinarily strong or have something up their sleeve to pass the recruitment. Besides, I''ve unfortunately seen Amar in action, or well didn''t see until it was almost too late. Yay knife to the throat, fun times. That boy is scarily fast, like assassin style fast and agile when he wants to be.


    There''s no way Georgie could even catch him to land a hit. Nor would my not so little teen assistant do such a thing! He''s a nice boy that can only beat up bread dough.


    "Anyways, no I did not beat him up. That brute of a monster did enough of that!" Georgie signed, looking peeved.


    "What really?! What happened?"


    "Well I wasn''t very close when it happened but well, I guess we should start from the beginning. So we got some bandits attacking us before that and I was holding on to my new purchase of clover but, wait did they see us at the market before or after-"


    Recap story time!


    Since George is a rather breathy storyteller it takes my brain a bit more effort to piece the events together. Okay fine, a lot more time and effort.


    Preparing to head home after their splendid tag along adventure in a foreign country, Georgie and the other chefs took one last trip to the market for any last-minute souvenirs and purchases. Previously Georgie and the others were afraid of all the strange newness but over time they got used to it and can traverse the marketplaces and local bazaars. While they prefer to have the troop members it''s gotten to the point where George can go by himself, though we would much prefer to have someone with him. Amar was a pretty popular guide for the cooks since he could translate and identify whatever was being sold.


    And yes everyone bought a lot plenty of seasonal local spices, so I should stop greedily staring at the packs- hey what is that supposed to mean?


    "Georgie, I gave you that bonus to buy stuff, I can take it back!"


    "Can I get back to the story now?"


    "Yes proceed."


    "So then I found this great thread made from a-"


    Hmmm the Rosalia translation filter is working, please hold.


    Shopping, shopping, bartering, more shopping, wow Georgie really likes shopping. I''m not getting any of the why someone is bleeding on my kitchen counter though? Where does Amar''s injury come into this again? Or the bandits? As lovely as your trip sounds I''m not getting anything interesting.


    "I shopped for his clothes because the kid only wears the same 2 outfits if you let him. "


    "The number went down?!"


    "Fire breathing beetles'' nest accident. Which was probably for the best because god does he need new clothes. I picked the out the outfit he''s wearing now and a whole trunk''s worth!"


    "Ok, carry on!"


    Restarting Rosalia translation filter- hmm shopping, shopping, sightseeing, eating, shopping, forcing Amar into playing dress up, some more shopping. This is all in the span of one morning? So this is Georgie''s secret skill? It absolutely beats out mother but I can''t even be mad because he''s so cost-effective about it.


    Nothing happened in the market, they had a lovely time and Georgie bartered his heart out over those sales. Absolutely nothing at all. What gives?


    "I''m getting to that part!"


    Since this was the day the portal would activate, the plan was that 2/5 of the scouting team switches members with fresh troops back in the camp. That way they could continue to build a base operation to run this particularly large dungeon raid with more efficiency. The campaign hasn''t been officially started yet after all.


    Since the magical inter-space portal would be open for a certain window of time, people and supplies were ready on both sides to make the move. This included Georgie and all the goodies they were bringing back home. It was a busy morning as the troops got things ready and in position for the portal and transfers.


    Before Georgie and the rest of the morning last-minute shoppers could get back into their positions into camp, they witnessed a bandit attack attempt made towards the vulnerable supplies and weary scouts looking to go home!


    A few of the straggler bandits saw their party before Georgie and the rest could either hide or rejoin the main group. Loaded with shopping bags and freshly purchased goods they looked like fat worms for the picking!


    While the cafeteria cooks can definitely fight, they were loaded down with my civilian cooks and all the luggage. It was horrible!


    Hmmm, I should do something about that. I can''t have my employees be absolutely defenseless when the going gets tough. Should I hire self defense trainers for them or something? I''m sure there''s some troop members with free time and wouldn''t mind giving some freelance lessons.


    "Are you seriously zoning out right when I get to ''the interesting part''?" deadpanned George.


    "Yes- no, I''m still here. Keep going! The horrible bandits arrived and then what?!"


    "It wasn''t that bad actually-" noooooooo, this voice is not allowed.


    "You! Didn''t I tell you to not talk or move!"


    "Oh yeah sorry- but it really wasn''t hard. The bandits really weren''t much to take care of at all. Most of them were-"


    "Shut up already Amar!"


    "Both of you brats shut up and let me finish retelling this story!"


    The best solution to talking children is snacks. Bless Alfonso for his preparedness, I had no idea where he slipped more juice and some honey buns from. Well I mean it''s the kitchen so it shouldn''t be that hard but still.


    I''d prefer popcorn for this occasion but honey buns are classic and work just fine. Besides, isn''t sugar good for uh blood loss? With snacks to distract everyone''s mouths, George finally gets to continue his story.


    The Rosalia filter is still operating, as usual, to translate his rambling into sense.


    There they were, blocked off by riding bandits while the portal site was being attacked by a rush of many more. How terrifying, how exciting, but really how terrifying! George is a chef in training, not a fighter!


    Luckily not only did the cafeteria cooks hold their own just fine, but Amar was there to keep George, and his precious shopping bags, safe from any harm. Apparently there was a lot of parkour jumping involved and maybe blood spilled, but George couldn''t see too much because he busy was hiding. Kid is fast I told you so.


    They defeat their small corner of bandits and rush to support the scouting base camp. In an epic battle with clashes of metal and various other weapons, they fought on under the hot sun for what felt like an eternity.


    "Actually it was less than 6 minutes. Cleaning up was longer."


    "Ssssshhhh it''s getting good, eat another honey bun or something."


    An eternity of battling! When it was all said and done, the bandits had either all fallen or fled. A complete victory with no little to no damages. Barely any injured and even then it was nothing that couldn''t be easily patched up because Amar was right and those bandits really were nothing, George is just really into telling this in his POV.


    That''s the thing though, Amar didn''t have a single scratch on him by the end the skirmish.


    "It was one of our own." seethed George, his tone changing into something entirely different, defensive.


    As the kid surprisingly subdued a group of bandits to the ground, a much larger man, glad in troop issued armor, attacked. A hulk of a man if George is to be believed. At first, Amar jumped out of the way, easily avoiding the surprise attack with nimble steps. Because George was further away he couldn''t hear the words exchanged but something said made Amar stop dodging.


    And that''s when the worst casualty of the day occurred.


    George didn''t look away for this, he started screaming for help. Something was obviously wrong because Amar stopped fighting back and entirely and just took it.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    I don''t like this story anymore, child abuse isn''t entertaining. It''s never okay.


    "It really wasn''t that bad." lightly laughed Amar and no, he should not be laughing. This isn''t a fantasy children''s show, magic world or physical enhancements be damned. In a scene where there are responsible adults present, such abuse should never be allowed let alone normalized.


    "He flung you like a rag doll! Through walls!" yelled George.


    According to George the other troop members interfered near instantly but not before Amar got his head cracked into a crater in bedrock.


    What really got George roaring in anger and indignation was how those troops rushed around the attacking child abuser. There were those holding him back and those who were talking him down, comfortingly calming him down from his sudden rampage. Everyone was focused on him.


    Why were they comforting the attacker when the victim, a small kid, was laying there bleeding and lifeless? Did no one help him?


    "I wasn''t actually lifeless you know? You''re supposed to relax your muscles to lessen the damage, well you''re supposed to cover your head and neck too but I didn''t do a very good job on that."Amar complained while munching on his 3rd honey bun.


    That''s when I notice the gravel like gashes on his skinny arms, probably from said bad covering. His neck was fine though, uninjured. That must be where he was protecting himself, the force that could break walls and rock could snap a child''s thin neck easy. The cloth part of his cloths was torn from the fresh action, not being worn down I I first thought.


    Shit kid what are you doing here and not a healer? How are you still sitting up sipping juice and stuff when you should be in a med bay! Why are you not crying or reacting right? Is it shock? Brain damage?


    Apparently Amar wasn''t even one of the ones scheduled to come back home. He was supposed to stay over there but George wouldn''t have it and forcibly carried the kid over himself.


    " Shit I''m not leaving him over there. Not with those people! What is wrong with them?!"


    And that''s how they ended up here after stepping through the portal and riding back to the mansion. They could have gotten medical treatment back at the main camp but George was adamant. He couldn''t trust the troop members after whatever it was he saw.


    It was impulsive and George was acting out of his jurisdiction but honestly, I agree. Thank god he did. Seriously what the hell? The troops aren''t an abusive place, sure it''s rough and tough but such murderous violence on anyone, let alone a child?That can''t be right.


    "It''s not so bad, Eadrak doesn''t like me and I made a mistake and got in his way. I think he was feeling better after so that''s good."


    No, no not good.No that doesn''t excuse anything!


    "....Oh Amar no." George''s face crumples and he looks at an innocently confused Amar like he''s looking at something very sad. To be honest I am too.


    Eadrak? Write down that name Alfonso! I''m telling grampa to run a full report for me. In fact I want to know if we have a whole child abuse string going on or if this was an isolated incident!


    Rather then the med bay, does this kid need a psychiatrist? He sounded like he could have kept avoiding this person''s attack but just, stopped. Stopped and let himself get hurt?


    But why?


    I don''t think I can get a proper answer from Amar himself either.


    "I shall notify records keeping and the honorable Lord commander per your requests young Miss Rosalia."


    "Yes...yes thank you Alfonso."


    "Your sister, young Miss Lilyanne has arrived but I''ve kept her outside for the time being. Will now be deemed a convenient time for you, Miss Rosalia?"


    "Yes, yes send her in and clear the area after she''s here."


    "Of course Miss Rosalia."


    The eavesdropping staff in the background are well trained and quick to clear out. I don''t know if there will be gossip soon but this sounds rather....heavy to be gossiping about. But violence isn''t that unusual in this world is it?


    George impatiently taps his feet.


    "So now what, I know I shouldn''t have brought him but I really could not leave him with those people."


    "I know, thank you George you did the right thing. Amar stop moving your head, it''s bad for your injury!"


    He''s looking back and forth at us as we talk and damn it, he''s going to give himself a worse concussion and I don''t know if Lilyanne can fix that!


    "Eh? Sorry sorry, I should be okay though? This isn''t so bad."


    Okay that''s enough talking from you, I can see the pity painfully rising on George''s face. It might be on mine too. Funny, I can afford to be so sympathetic to others when I''m doomed to a bloody fate myself. Just great.


    "Oh but why is your baby sister coming in Rosalia?" questions Amar.


    George is still impatiently tapping his foot, his rage from the earlier memory still present in his body language and tone.


    "Yeah, did you call for Lilyanne? It''s rather inappropriate."


    Before I can answer Alfonso arrives back once again carrying a giggling Lilyanne who is closing her eyes and covering them with her hands. Finally!


    "Suwpwise suwpwise, Lilli is good giwl and likes suwpwises."


    "Lily!"


    "Rosa!"


    "No no Lily, keep those eyes closed. It''s part of the surprise I have for you. You absolutely cannot open your eyes until I say so alright?"


    "Yay! Awight!"


    I motion for Alfonso to set her down next to me as I get into position next to the injured patient who is still on top of my kitchen counter. Alright, it will just have to do as a medical table now.


    "Now Lily I want you to imagine that''s you''re charging another magic stone. Not a big one, just a small melon sized on. Imagine it has a crack, an owie! Can you do that for me? Can you imagine fixing the owie on the rock?"


    I take Lilyanne''s tiny hand in my own and position her other hand to hover right by Amar''s wound. I don''t know if this will work given her age but it''s worth a shot. Lilyanne has always been a natural miraculous level healer, that''s one of the things her blessed magic is so well known for.


    "Very lightly, push the magic and heal the owie Lily."


    "Pwush pwush."


    "Yes just like that!"


    She sticks her tongue out and makes that focusing face of hers. Everyone else remaining in the room, only Alfonso and George, keep quiet as they curiously watch. Amar thankfully also keeps quiet for once.


    They watch in awe as my gamble pays off. Lilyanne''s signature light glows off her palm like the tender glow of fireflies, they float and fizzle to magically mend the bloody wound. Little dots, actual fireflies, float off from the main light to sprinkle and melt into gnarled arms and blooming bruises. The wound shrinks and vanishes as the light melts into flesh.


    "Whoa." breathes Amar, the first living test subject to receive''s Lilyanne''s saving grace. He looks absolutely awed and starstruck at the light, as he should. This is an incomparable honor you know?


    I feel something, that tingle that says the limit is approaching and make to stop Lilyanne. Any more and I can''t guarantee anyone''s safety.


    "That''s it - that''s enough."


    I let go of her hand and when she stops I can see clearly how there are no wounds, not even a scratch, left. Streaks of drying blood yes but nothing lasting, as good as new. Even those who witness it first hand can hardly believe it. George has his jaw to the floor while even Alfonso is showing a reaction, now that''s something.


    It''s like a miracle.


    "Rosa? Can open eyes now?"


    "Sure thing! You did so good!"


    "Yay! Waaaah!"


    "Surprise! It''s big brother Amar and really big bro Georgie! They''re back!"


    "Lilli likes suwpwises!"


    Isn''t she cute? Just an angel. Don''t seriously fall for her too hard okay boys or I''m going to have to hurt someone.


    My experimental gamble paid off beautifully. Amar''s immediate injury is healed, my witnesses are trustworthy people, while I get to verify that Lilyanne can still heal, though she needs my help to conduct the magic. Great!


    Now I won''t feel guilty as I smack this dumb brat for getting so beat up in the first place.Or thinking that it''s okay?! ''Not so bad'' my butt, I''ll show you not so bad. It''s not child abuse if I''m a weaker child myself!


    ----

 63 Harves

    Fall is in full swing!


    That means it''s time to pick the majority of the crops. The last of the late summer fruit and, more importantly, the full output of fall. The grains especially! Yay for wheat and flour restocks! Harvest season is the busiest time of the year as people gather the largest bounties of their hard work and store them to last through the winter.


    No not just winter, some of these goods much last the rest of the year or more! Things like the olives harvest for oil or the fruits and herbs for alcohol brewing is critical to our lifestyle and economy. This is a very critical time of the year.


    It would be a waste to miss out on observing this first hand. Harvest season is the true livelihood and food source of essentially everyone. No grains, no bread. Hell, no a lot of things.


    Father is still overseeing the mass construction projects to the local farmlands and it''s going along at a decent pace. Two medium-sized waterwheels have already been finished but there are no permanent mills or such structures yet. The water mills are providing some much needed labor and pure power on their own though.


    The plans and construction have already been started to the next two nearest farming communities.


    They''re a lot further and normally I wouldn''t be allowed to go. But it''s harvest season so it''s fine right! They''re not as nearby as my local farm, what if they''re not using the crop rotation system correctly!


    Yes, it''s very important at this time of year to see how things are going with the local community. Why not come lend a helping hand to the over swamped villagers?


    If I ask to get grampa''s okay then it''s more than fine right?


    Speaking of grampa, for the first time in my young life I have initiated contact.


    It''s shameful to say so, normally it either can''t be helped, he''s already home, or he comes looking for me, maybe there''s even Lilyanne as a buffer.


    Not this time, I actually went looking for him myself. When I finally did find him in some of the private quarters in the camp, he was making a disgusting kissy face to a mirror. How narcissistic.


    It was awful but what was even worse was when he saw me.


    "Rosalia?"


    "....."


    "....Have you come looking for me?"


    "...yes?"


    It was already too late to run, not that my short little legs could get very far. I had but a moment to take a deep breath before I was suddenly attacked.


    "GRAMPAPA IS SO TOUCHED! Did you miss me!? Were you lonely?! Where''s your sister? Oh you came by yourself! What a good big girl you are!!!! Rosalia visited me!"


    Dizzy~ I''m dizzy from all the spinning. While I don''t appreciate the feeling of suffocation at least it acts as a safety belt to all this spinning he''s doing with me in his arms. Ooompf, I think his bicep is bigger than my head. He''s not wearing any armor at the moment but it doesn''t matter with all this hard muscle.


    Beef, I''m surrounded by excessive body heat and beef. I want to scream for him to release me but that would just waste what precious oxygen I have. Maybe if I desperately scratch my nails any weak points, but grampa has no weak points damn it.


    Eventually, he releases me from the mega bear hug in exchange though he rubs his unshaven face on me. Ow ow ow keep that sandpaper away!


    "So what has my frolicsome little grandchild come to see her precious grandpapa for today!"


    "Air! I want to breathe!"


    "Huh? But you can already breathe?"


    I huff as he adjusts his hold on me to be less teddy bear and more like a small pet dog or cat. At least I''m facing him at near eye level but seriously what is with this pose? Put me down and talk to people normally! But that''s a no go, grampa just blinks his big old cow eyes at me as he waits for a response.


    "Sigh, grampa I want to go the farm. Not the one father always takes me to but the further outskirts one."


    "Oh? Is that so?"


    "It''s harvest season and I think I should go see. But mother and father say it''s too dangerous to go out that far when I''m so small, which really should not be an issue at all."


    "Yes! I completely agree! Your tiny size should not deter you from following your dreams! IF your dream is to farm this season so shall be it! Hahahaha!"


    "So I can go? Even though father is reluctant to take me? You''ll make him take me?"


    "Not exactly my little imp, your mother is actually very scary when she wants to be. I was thinking more about just razing a section of the ground outside the mansion and letting you start your own garden!"


    "No.....you didn''t think of that yourself did you grampa?"


    "Gable''s idea! He said you would like it, huh why didn''t that work? He''s usually right."


    While having my own little garden area gives me a lot of room to conducts some further experiments it''s still not what I want right now!


    "Grampa, pleeeease. Just convince mother a bit, father will take me if mama wasn''t threatening him. Please!"


    "Hmmm I don''t know because that means she''ll be threatening me next- and I sort of gave over that job to Freddy when he became a groom into this household. At least I thought I did. I don''t think you know what she did to me after I lost you in the woods."


    Whatever it was I''m sure it was well deserved. I don''t know how such a frail noblewoman can have some of the world''s most powerful individuals wrapped around her pinky. I guess it helps when the most powerful hero is your dad but mother truely does get scary when provoked.


    Ah, that must be part of Lilyanne''s genetic inheritence too? The having powerful men at your beck and call part, not the scary part. I guess that''s kinda scary on its own, especially when she can''t control them. Actually, if I, unfortunately, remember correctly, I don''t think Lilyanne was even aware of just how crazy and willing those people were to serve her. Definitely scary, a whole mob of the most brushed off friend-zoned entitled boys.


    I get both the cringe and chills just remembering that much.


    Compared to that, a little nature and farmwork is nothing!


    "It will be safe! What if we bring more guards, oh what if we bring troops! We all should go! Isn''t that area short on people? You can help out the farmers, get fresh food and punish any troop into manual labor! Good deal right?"


    "Hmm yes fresh honest work is great training! It would get our youths involved and not take things such as their daily meals for granted! What a great idea!"


    "I know right? So you''ll let me go right?"


    "I love my daughter very much and would not risk her ire, and neither should you." he pats me like he''s comforting a baby, that or trying to get it to burp.


    "It''s fine if you and all the troops are there! We can bring the cooks, get them to work, it can be like a big field trip!"


    I''d suggest that it could be a whole family trip if I didn''t already know mother disliked such places. She was made for fine parlors, flowering gardens and grand ballrooms, not country dirt and the garrison grounds.It''s fine, she and Lilyanne can stay home nice and safe. I can take care of myself.


    "I do like the sound of that hmmmmm."


    "Please grampa please!"


    This is the most I''ve ever begged in my life. To be fair my life hasn''t been a very long one but it''s the principle of it.


    "Hmmmmm what do you think?"


    My weirdo of a grampa turns back to the mirror and seems to be having a mental conversation with himself. He makes all sorts of odd expressions and even winks at himself in, dare I say, a flirty way. Oh god, I sure hope the crazy is a grampa thing and not a reincarnation side effect.


    "Well then if you say so! I trust you''ll handle our Maria" grinned grampa.


    Before I can risk making a comment about his mental stability he turns back to spin me some more. Hands are not seat belts! This is not a safe swing ride but unfortunely I am getting used to it by now. Just please, don''t drop me and we''ll be alright.


    Oh god why are we still spinning? And why am I getting flung up and down?


    "Wonderful idea Rosalia! We can all go! Yes it''s been a good many years since I last been to fresh fresh sausage stuffing! What a rustic and lively event! A feel like a young adventurer working for wages all over again already!"


    While I''m very pleased about getting my initial goal, the record screeches in my brain.


    "Grampa? A what now?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "Why of course! This is your first harvest! At the end of every good harvest, there''s meat to butcher and salt for winter! While fresh meat is always good the best part is grinding and filling the sausages for the season!"


    Huh, I mean I guess that makes sense.


    I mean I was thinking more along the lines of picking grains and vegetables while preparing the ground to rest or cover crop. I wasn''t so much thinking of killing old McDonald''s livestock selection. But hey I get it, meat has to come from somewhere after all if it''s not hunted from wild beasts and game.


    It''s a little gross looking but I''ve personally handled fresh poultry and some other things before. No biggie, I just don''t know how sanitary it is. Well first time for everything.


    I have grampa permission now, which is the free pass to essentially do anything!


    "Can we go get ready now?"


    "Yes, of course, my eager little farmhand! Off we go to tell Geoff to organize everything together!"


    Ah yes that makes more sense than grampa actually doing any work. Let''s have a successful harvest and systematic overhaul this season alright?


    I''m so excited that I actually don''t mind grampa placing me up on shoulder. If anything I can at least use his hair as some safety reins.


    "Oh I almost forgot-"


    Before heading out the door he makes to blow a kiss to himself in the mirror and happily waves himself goodbye. Ah how gross can one man get?


    -----


    As expected of the speed and efficiency of uncle Geoff. It''s like a school field trip they day we set off for the outer farms.


    I was just joking about it being a punishment to enforce manual labor, but there''s seriously a groaning group of people of various ages. For the most part though it seems to be volunteers who have free time and want to get out a bit. The lure of fresh food, especially seasonal produce meat seems to be rather tempting to many of the volunteers.


    That may be why over half my kitchen and almost the entire core of the cafeteria staff is coming along. Good luck to everyone holding the fort down and managing to feed the others. Fighting!


    WE''re splitting into two groups for the two farms. Uncle Geoff leading one group made primarily of the complaining youngsters in the west while Grampa takes everyone else east. Good luck uncle Geoff, your efforts and discipline are much appreciated.


    OF course, I''m going with my Grampa''s group, I have no decision making powers here. At least I can drag my kitchen staff with me.


    "By the way Georgie, how long are we keeping Amar hostage?"


    "Oh is that what this is?"


    "Kinda?"


    Georgie yells at us from his side of the open air wagon


    "We are not keeping anyone hostage!!!"


    Despite my questioning, I haven''t gotten any answers to the earlier incident about why a 5 year old got beat so bloodily by his own supposed comrades. It''s rather suspicious and I don''t like it.


    The most I got from grampa was a lot of distractions, avoidance and promises that he''ll take care of it on the other side. He was trying not to worry me, I can tell. When grampa gets scary and serious the mood shifts, as if the air in the room has all gone, and there''s no way to miss that unless you''re as innocently dense as Lilyanne.


    I don''t know what''s going on but something tells me it''s complicated because of course, it is. It always is.


    Of course, Amar didn''t get in trouble leaving his post, which he seemed to be more concerned about than say getting treated or justice over the unfairness of it all. Why would anyone get in trouble for getting beat up?!


    In all my experiences thus far there was nothing to indicate any bad mood, let alone child abuse going on at the main camp. In fact, I''d have to say the brat is rather popular around there, always running odd jobs and errands. Everyone''s been nice in their own ways, but that''s only what I''ve seen. I''m an outsider, the lord commander''s grandaughter. They might just be on their best behavior around me.


    The camp is a large place filled with many kinds of people. I don''t know it all.


    Which is why Georgie and some of the chefs are terribly uncomfortable with letting him go back. Didn''t they basically kidnap him? Can they even do that?


    "The Lord Commander said it was ok to take a break for a little bit and that I''m not in trouble," Amar explained, today he''s a lot cleaner through the forced bath and clean up by a staff ruled by me.


    "Of course you''re not! So that''s why you didn''t just sneak out yet. You could if you want you know?"


    "But that''s rude? Besides everyone''s really nice to let me stay and gives me lots of things to eat."


    "Uh, sure I guess. Is the food good at least?"


    I don''t like that awkward pause, as if he''s trying to figure out the right things to say. Just spit it out already. The integrity of my kitchen is at stake,


    "Some of them? They''re trying really hard?"


    ".....You don''t have to eat it if it''s bad!"


    "But isn''t that rude?"


    "No! You make them eat it so they know it sucks! Don''t let them waste my ingredients on terrible food!" I scold.


    By giving you lots of good things did you mean fatten up and taste test like a guinea pig?


    It''s impossible to say he didn''t make an impression with showing up bloody and hostage with a frantic George.The ones that know him are using him as a taste tester and judge for all the new dishes they''re whipping up with the spices brought home. It smells great but it''s a work in progress with the unfamiliar ingredients. From what I hear, the attempt at rice pudding is a constant failure, shame.


    Meanwhile, Bertha says he''s too skinny and seems to have made it the kitchen staff''s mission to fatten him up by normal means


    I kinda feel bad for forcing the kid, he''s too polite to just leave, and eats absolutely everything given to him.Well, he could stand to pack a few pounds, I guess it''s fine. Who says no to a seemingly paid for vacation and free food? Let''s make up for that blood loss.


    When we arrive at the farm a couple of hours later I''m thankfully not feeling all that sick. It''s the mix of it being an uncovered wagon and the amount of company and talking to distract myself with. I was the same in the last life too, if my friends were in the car to keep me occupied I didn''t get as sick.


    My father was already waiting for us outside the gates, on top of his larger steed Gino.


    "Freddy we''re here!" waved Grampa in a gallop ontop his beast ride of the day, a giant ostrich looking thing. See this is why I stayed in the wagon with everyone else.


    "So you really are? I received your messanger bird but I didn''t think you''d come with so many helpers. They are helpers and not troublesome mess makers right?"


    Some of the adults in the crowd jeer and let out boos and curses his name without any heat. Sounds like they know each other. A few even give rowdy thumbs down, other fingers up and blow raspberries at my father, sitting there looking too pretty in the wind on his pretty giant horse.


    "Well, you''re all not doing a very good job at proving me wrong. Just don''t cause any trouble to the farmers to break anything. Actually, wait, if you break them then we could make more things-we could tweak and improve them and-"


    "That''s the spirit, Freddy!" laughed grampa as he settled down the crowd and made the general announcements.


    "Now let''s lay it down with the curses and language for the nice villagers."


    "Some of them aren''t so nice!" yelled a voice in the background.


    "For the nice and not so nice villagers then! Besides we got kids in tow today and if any of you teach my granddaughter something she should be repeating I''m putting you in the sausage grinder!"


    Well, that got people to shut up.


    "Grandaughter? Father which of my children have you stolen this time? It''s Rosalia again isn''t it, of course it is. Chip where are you hiding now?"


    Father scans the crowd and within a moment, without my given consent, I am plucked out of my seat into the open air and plopped on top of the giant moving horse, courtesy of my fussing father. I managed an awkward wave of goodbye to my wagon mates.


    Pray for me, everyone. The nerd''s got me.


    "Your mother is going to kill me again," he says as he appears to be trying to stuff me in his buttoned coat. As if he were a mother kangaroo and I''m the struggling joey. It''s better than the baby sling at least, less humiliating. I still feel ridiculous but can''t really say anything this high up on Gino, nice horsey good horsey don''t run me off.


    "Grampa''s got it this time," I argued, both impatient at being manhandled into his jacket coat and at being left behind again.


    Stop hogging all the fun farm things for yourself, I have crop production to streamline and modernize!


    "Correction then, your mother will kill all of us. Since it''s too late we might as well stretch it out and make the best of it."


    Despite what he says, father pats my head as he sinches the last button securing me. Guess we''re staying in this location for a while then.


    Let the harvest commence!

 64 Harvest 2

    If I had to picture this as a well running little league team then, all the troop members here are the kids. Most as excited to play but they''re....lost on what to do. Grampa is the soccer mom that signed them up and dropped them off while cheering on the stands. Meanwhile, father is the coach that has to organize this ragtag amateur team together putting who goes where.


    I get to be an assistant little league coach.


    Does that make sense? Yeah good enough for me.


    It''s a lot of work ordering people around, much more than you would think. I know it sounds pretentious but it''s a headache for father to place certain people here or there. Somehow he knows these particular troop members don''t get along and shouldn''t be placed together. The more strength-based folks get ground-based harvesting and carrying work while the endurance or speed users are picking fruit. Anyone with logistic skills or smarts gets placed with helping the farmers organized or being assigned a mini team leader. It takes a lot of work to get this ragtag team of volunteers working as efficiently and smoothly as they do.


    I also know that while it''s more practical and economical, father doesn''t actually like doing this. He''s very good at it and there''s something satisfying to it but he rather be slowly picking the vegetables himself, watching how chickens lay eggs, or making more wheels both large and small. Maybe aweing over another common appliance not used among noble circles.


    What strange hobbies he has.


    The harvest season is not a time to play father! Can''t you see all the farmers working so hard?! This is the most important time of year for them. Let''s get these grains!


    Somehow my scolding seems to motivate him into doing a better job. I was yelling at you, not praising you. Why are you so happy and energetic?


    What strange hobbies this man has.


    Sometimes I fear I''m pushing it with my behavior, breaking the lines of what''s excusable or not. But this family is just odd like that. Especially father, it seems the more I speak out or be typical ''Rosalia'' demanding, the more they seem to like it?


    It''s very confusing. This isn''t how good girl are supposed to behave? Not that I was planning on being a very proper noblewoman in the first place but why does it seem that my family encourages this?


    It''s easy to see how the previous Rosalia adopted her spoiled rich girl sort of behavior. Being quiet and polite never got her anywhere.But asking for things, commanding for them, did get her hints of the attention she was so desperate for. What concerning parenting.


    I''ll just blame grampa, that''s the easiest solution to everything. A lot of things are most likely at least partially his fault anyways. Gable could testify to that I''m sure.


    For now though let''s just help keep father on track with the volunteer little league harvest team.


    "Father, get back here. You can''t hide from your problems in the field all day. You''re too big to blend in with the carrots."


    He really is, and human shaped too. Why is father being so childish?


    "Now Chippy dear, it''s not hiding. I''m clearly inspecting the utilization of the new compost fertilizer. "


    "No one put fertilizer there, there are none on the ground veggies. Get out of the dirt and back to the troops, they''re going to destroy something. "


    "Your grandfather is with them."


    "Then they''re definitely going to break or set fire to something."


    "They''ve been assigned to a villager, it''s fine. Look at these beans, did you know the local diet is largely made up of such legumes. A fascinating staple! Don''t they get tired of the plain mushy taste? "


    "That''s why spices are expensive father."


    "But it comes in so many colors. What are the differences between them? We should hold one of your taste testing sessions."


    "Father we are not having a bean tasting, you don''t have time. But if we did it should be a whole autumn harvest tasting like a festival with chestnuts, pumpkins and all the goods in the nearby area- .... wait you''re distracting me!"


    "A local festival? On top of the harvest? That would certainly draw in a crowd and hmmmm..."


    "Wait no! Father stop going off on strange ideas and get back to work!"


    Who listens to their toddler so seriously?! He''s actually sincerely considering it, I can tell from the strange glazed over look in his eyes. I''m truly getting more and more worried for my father''s actual work. How did this man ever make prime minister the last time around?


    Actually...can he ever make prime minster at this rate?


    He''s been on the land and around home far too much this year to be a good contender as of late. Sure the construction and farm improvement projects are important to me but what about your political career?


    It''s not too late you know?


    It can''t be helped because it''s the busy harvest time right now and I''m selfishly using him but afterward, during winter, father should get back to his real job. I should be a little less selfish after all and release him.


    But how? He''s become such a farm nerd! He''s been out so much that he''s beginning to get freckles on his nose and cheeks! Just look at him! I had to use up my first batch of sunblock oil on him!


    "But they''re nutritionally so complete, how versatile. Like tiny little potatoes. So many miniature potatoes in a pod. I should have brought my sketching booklet. Come take a look Chip!"


    This is stupid and I am not at all tempted by the production and great variety of beans.


    I am merely admitting that they are a very quick crop to grow that''s both nutritious for the people and nitrogen enriching to the soil. What a good cover crop!


    An excellent crop in my anti-famine plans, if dried they can be stored for an extremely long time. The protein content in them is packing and they''re are so nutritionally complete but far less starchy than potatoes. Sure they don''t taste as addictive with butter but they''re better for you and can be used to stretch traditional grain flours. Beans are vastly superior to potatoes if we consider health, application, and variety!


    "How fascinating! Such an amazingly useful little thing. I also hear the locals do use it to subsidize in bread and even simple cakes.Well, I''ll look forward to tasting whatever new bean dishes you''ll come up with Chip."


    "..."


    Oops. I did it again. What is wrong with my mouth?


    Whose''s thinking out loud gene is responsible for this? How have I not been put to the stakes yet as a baby witch? Is it the magical world setting? I feel that most men would and should still be terrified of the things that come out of my mouth. They shouldn''t react like...well...father does.


    Hey wait, I got distracted again! Damn, he''s quite good at that.


    "Father get back to work!"


    "Ah I''ve worked so much since early morning, it''s such a headache.It should be fine with so many hands right? Let''s harvest the beans. Ahhh don''t be in such a rush to get back to those brutes Chip my dear. "


    Somehow my small little hands are successfully tugging him back towards the organizational center. I may be getting stronger but I''m not that strong. Father may be a nerd but he''s a very well trained and healthy adult. He''s too heavy and obviously just messing around with me.


    "No."


    "Surely there''s no fun for you in going back to the others? Nothing but sweat and screaming, yes we shouldn''t distract them."


    "No."


    "What about the rice? You adore rice, let''s go look at them thrashing the rice. We''re trying out the second revision to your wonderful spinning wheeled thrasher. "


    "No."


    "The pumpkins? Did you know they can grow as long as a serpent? Why don''t we-"


    By then we''re spotted by a rush of frantic village elders.


    "Lord Frederick! Oh thank the goddess you''ve returned! Your men!!! They''re trying to transport goods by flinging things across the fields! The whole fields!!! It''s raining pumpkin and squashes! They''ve gone so high they''be hit and took down migrating birds with them!"


    "...That''s.....unfortunate."


    "Oh look father! You wanted to see the pumpkins! Yes, let''s get to work and go see them raining pumpkins."


    "Rosalia my darling, are you hungry? Tired? Well look at that I should be taking my poor little girl to rest and-"


    "To the pumpkins. Go. Now."


    It''s a lot of work being the assistant little league coach but apparently someone has to do it.


    The day quickly turns to night. It really is like a school field trip. The most economical plans to our trip without interfering too much time wise have been planned down 4 days and 3 nights. That''s plenty of time for these superhuman muscle heads to speed up the harvest with the heavy work.


    The messenger bird from Mother says she''s not all that pleased but wishes us much love and safety. And that I should be careful in wearing my hats to protect my hair. At least that''s what I was allowed to read. Father got a separate letter, sealed with mother''s crest, which he promptly burned after reading.


    Ah a whipped husband has it hard too. Fighting father, I believe in your gross couple-ness.Bring her back a romantic present or something.


    Oh, I should take my own advice and find a peace offering to save my own hide. I swear mother didn''t instill such a strange instinctual fear in me the last life. Perhaps a linen dress? Something not medievally ugly?


    I don''t get to camp out with the rest of the troop members but I do get to relax and play around their campgrounds until it''s time for father to take me away for the night into the village home we''re staying in. Then it''s lockdown bedtime for me.


    Not as fun as staying with the others but understandable. Father is oddly worried about me enough as it is. Besides, it''s not like I don''t see them every day we''re out here.


    Maybe because it''s a new experience for most everyone, it seems to be more fun than actual work. Even my chefs are having a good time working directly with the ingredients, well of course they would.


    I do know father is definitely using the free labor for all he can get outside of the harvest. That includes compost mixing, cover crop planting, and even construction work.


    I don''t know when this started but apparently, he''s designed and already building a new bridge too.


    Hey, father, you''re going to have never ending projects stacked up at this rate. Don''t look so pleased at this. Go back to your court job! It''s not healthy to overwork yourself juggling so much!


    The villagers here are extremely grateful for the aid. It seems like an aging population as more and more young people leave to the cities and places with better prospects.


    Ah, I see the point in the bridge and all the construction projects focused here now. Good thinking father. Let''s smooth out and boost this economy! It makes much more sense than raising their taxes or some other villainy thing.


    The time passed so quickly when you''re on a school trip and we''re somehow on the last day already!


    It hasn''t all been good and fun though.


    I''ve gained another nickname.


    "Rosalia my healthy little growing pumpkin! Are you ready for your first ending harvest tradition! Yes, it is that glorious time, everyone''s favorite time, to make fresh hams and sausages!"


    "....no."


    "Do not be afraid pumpkin! Grampapa is here to show you the way!"


    "....no."


    I blame grampa. I hate grampa. Someone, please stop his menacing horror. Mama? Gable please come back and put a leash on him or something!


    The pumpkin throwing on the first day unexpectedly gave both grampa and me vivid flashbacks to that unfortunate time. You know, when I got catapulted to a giant bird?


    We got some fresh K.O. geese and mashed pumpkins for dinner that day. It was delicious but was it really worth it? Yeah, that hit too close to home and the resemblance to that time was exactly on point.


    So thus there''s this terrible name.


    "It''s kind of cute. Right? Don''t people here use ''pumpkin'' as a term of affection?"


    "No no no you don''t get it Amar! It''s a bad joke to grampa! A terrible joke! I''m the pumpkin! The things being thrown through the air!"


    "Well um, you are the size of a pumpkin?"


    I smack the other child in the shoulder, careful to avoid his healed head, because that clearly does not help his point. It proves mine!


    There are no young kids around here besides us and maybe a few village children, and even then they''re not very fun to talk too. Ah it''s hard getting along with others my age when you''re not a real child. Lilyanne is my only exception.


    "Aren''t pumpkins really sweet and yummy? It''s a good thing right?"


    "He''s saying I''m a good bird bullet! A throwable vegetable!"


    "You do look easy to throw."


    For a moment I regret and reconsider my impulsive decision to rant to the kid again. But I cannot deny that I am small, handheld even if we''re talking about grampa. Being a toddler sucks.


    "Waaah! Look Rosalia, they''re moving on to the hogs! It looks tasty."


    "Oh...fun. I wonder how much bacon that makes?"


    It''s a lively scene as what appears to be the entire farming village community and all the troops gather around to slaughter the fattened livestock. The standard farm animals more or less, though they look a lot bigger than the ones I''m used to from my world. It''s not just my small size speaking, these things are not standard earth goats, pigs and cows. How much do these things eat?


    In a rural place like this without much entertainment, even something like this is exciting to converge around and watch. As a village though, I see the great importance behind it.


    The livestock that''s been raised so carefully for so long will now become important food for us.


    This isn''t the only time of year people slaughter animals for meat but the autumn harvest is special. Everyone gets together to prep this meat to last for winter in all sorts of ways. It''s a communuity effort. Maybe that''s why grampa was so excited about it, in a provincial way it''s like an event and a way to pass down survival knowledge to the next generation.


    Plenty of the troop members come from a small country village themselves and this sort of thing is exciting and nostalgic to them. Their energy is contagious.


    Ah so this is what a village really looks like, that''s the kind of thoughts I get. It''s nice.


    The coming together and a community part, not the hang upside down and slaughter of the live animals part. I''m not queezy. I''ve taken college biology and dissection. I''ve chased down and turned a live rooster into a roast before. But these things are big! Big and bloody.


    "Are you okay Rosalia?" asked Amar, noticing the way I grimaced.


    "It stinks! And there''s a lot of blood."


    "Oh yeah, the draining is messy. The smell is also really bad. Before slaughter day you''re supposed starve and chase the animals around so their guts are empty. This is the first time I''ve seen it done here, I don''t think they did a very good job with that. Is it a last meal thing? Huh that person is holding the knife off, they''re going to miss the vein, look."


    I''m looking.


    True to Amar''s word the amateur teenagers are messing up on their first hog. They miss and panic as the hog squeals and wildly struggles. It''s an absolute mess.


    Blood is everywhere.


    They''re panicking too much, the stab cuts are too shallow or in the wrong spots and leaking. It''s not a clean job like it''s supposed to be. It''s supposed to drain over the bucket but it''s splattering like a bad horror movie effect, the wrong vein is cut.


    Blood is spilling everywhere.


    The ground, the teenagers, everywhere.


    The crowd.They watch, that''s all they do. They''re just watching so the kids, legally adults, can do it on their own. They''re all yelling and it''s too loud. It''s supposed to be a lesson for them but....


    Blood.


    Bloody hands.


    Bloody blades.


    Bloody boys all around.


    Whose blood is it?


    What am I seeing here?


    Where am I?


    "You can''t escape now." a cold voice rings out within the crowd.


    More and more voices grow louder, jeering, cursing all sorts of profanity. All finely dressed young men, teenagers basically.Why?


    So much blood.


    The ground isn''t common dirt, it isn''t grass, it''s cold, beautiful marble. It stinks of perfume and blood, it stinks it stinks it stinks. This isn''t right? This...


    What''s going on?!


    "How could you?! Your own sister?"


    "Hell, she''s not dying!"


    "Thought you could run did you?!"


    "It''s not good enough, a demonic witch like you needs to burn!"


    "Is she crying!? The bitch can actually cry!? I thought devils couldn''t feel pain!"


    "How dare you!? How dare you taint our pure Lily with your filth!"


    "Just die already!!! Free her! Free us!"


    Arms, legs, back, torso, the head. They keep stabbing with a sickening crunch and squelch.


    Amateurs. Nothing but violent weak boys who never held a real weapon, never taken a life with their own hands.


    Until now.


    The roses are rich in bloom. It must be summer. It stinks it stinks it stinks. I hate roses, I hate the smell of such thick perfume. I can''t breathe!


    Is the blood or the flowers?! There''s so much, oh god there''s just so much.


    There''s a crowd, why is there a crowd? What are they watching? Why are they watching?! Why are they just standing there watching!


    The marble stairs above are absolutely covered in a trail of red. Flowers or blood? I don''t know! I don''t know! Why does it matter?


    Her bones are broken, they must be! The long haired girl in a torn gown splayed at the bottom of the stairs is nothing but a broken red doll. Broken jewels and gems sparkle almost magically in the moonlight. The red is so horribly beautiful.


    Everything is so loud but it''s not her screaming. She can''t. There''s blood, so much blood. She''s choking on her own blood!


    "Die die die god you devil woman just die already!"


    Why? Why is there so much blood? So much hate? It''s so scary, so painful.


    I can''t breathe.


    I''m choking too.


    Why am I choking?


    A scream, the most horrible wretched scream I have ever heard comes from above.


    At the top of the gleaming staircase, there is an angelic woman in white screaming like a madwoman as she rushed down, full gown and all. The red is ruining her perfectly pretty dress and she screams herself hoarse.


    "ROSALIA!!!"


    "Rosalia? Rosalia!!! Lord Commander come quick! There''s something wrong with Rosalia!!!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    The farm, the crowd- I''m back.


    I can feel myself falling against the solid support of skinny arms and then, the world goes black.


    -----

 65 Dream in a dream- isnst that just inception?

    "Come back, come back me please oh god please."


    "....Lilyanne, you shouldn''t....Lilyanne please. Let go."


    "Bring her back! Erik please, my sister please... she''s all I have."


    "Lilyanne."


    "I can''t. I can''t! I can''t heal her fast enough. She''s not healing fast enough!"


    "That''s enough Lily, please Lily you''re hurting yourself. You know you cant- she can''t be healed. That''s the curse, you- ...she. She wouldn''t want you like this."


    "DON''T SPEAK TO ME LIKE SHES GONE! ROSA! This isn''t funny, please Rosa. No more tricks, please wake up. Please. Please let me heal you, I can''t heal you if you don''t let me, please"


    "....."


    This.


    This is a shit dream.


    I hate this dream. I can''t ever do anything in it. I don''t feel pain because it''s a dream, or maybe it''s the shock, but it''s heavy. As if I had a bad cold and everything is super congested. My head is foggy, my vision teary and blurred, and I struggle to breathe through all the thick congestion in my lungs


    I don''t think it''s mucus though.


    This dream is basically the same, give or take the length, and I can''t ever do anything but watch it badly play out. I honestly rather watch those bad reality TV show reruns than this.


    The dream me coughs violently, literally hacking up painted bloody flowers on the white canvas in front of me. I''m getting her dress dirty. I can''t see her but I can feel my head propped up , the rest of myself laying on an uncomfortably wet floor, it''s very slippery. Anyone could fall and slip so easily on smooth marble.


    "Wake up, please, come to for me."


    Like a bad flu, maybe a case of bronchitis, my throat itches horribly and I can''t breathe through all the coughing. I don''t want to be here.


    But the dream doesn''t end yet, not tonight. Most of the time it doesn''t play through but I guess this isn''t one of those times


    I hear ragged breathe and bubbling gurgling sounds. Like the sound of a drowning person dry heaving. My throat isn''t in one piece.


    I don''t always get to this part in the dream but I feel indescribable exasperated displeasure at what I do see. I think the dream me is on her deathbed but somehow I have the capacity to be grossly annoyed, even more than the pain I''m supposed to be feeling.


    At the edge of the pretty ruby pool that''s spreading stands a marble statue.


    Correction, it''s a man, a living human who might as well be made out of stone. In the moonlight, he looks so pale, all blond hair and alabaster white skin. His face so still, and so well chiseled that I feel no issue with mistaking him for a classical statue.


    It looks like a red moon, it''s not, but my limited vision is tinged in red.


    "...you...."


    The dream me heaves, more and more vines of red flowers blooming from her mouth. She sounds like a chronic smoker with a voice box, a hole carved into the throat.


    "That''s it! Don''t speak! Please let me heal you..." sings the sweet voice from above. Heaven maybe?


    But I''m a heretic and I disobey.


    "....you.... don''t .... deserve her....


    The marble statue has the decency to look ashamed, crumbling in himself,even if he can''t look directly at me, at the bloody dying girl on the floor.


    "I know."


    The angel above snaps at all of us, hysterical.


    "Sssshhh save your strength! This isn''t the time. We can all talk about this later, please when you''re better. Please, let me save you first, please."


    "....you....keep.... her .... safe."


    "No no no, there''s no - none of that. You''ll be ok, please, please no. "


    "....I will."


    "Stop talking like that, stop talking!"


    The statue looks down with stone-cold eyes. He looks like a Greek God, too high up above, too beautiful and too full of damnation to us mere mortals, ants.


    But like a rock, he is sturdy and strong, and she is tired of the weight of living.


    She does not want her last words to be to this hateful man posing has a God. She cannot clasp her palms, cannot pray, so she clenches the expanse of once-white lace underneath her fingers to make it clear who she''s speaking to, trying to. She speaks in reverence to the heavens above, the angel and the pouring light that is so desperately trying to fix a too broken doll


    "...hope...you''re...happy...now."


    Be happy, please live and find happiness in this cruel world. If it''s you- it''s possible.


    "...you''re....free now...."


    I''m going to go now, I won''t hold you back anymore. I can''t hold anyone back anymore.


    "No no no, no dont'' speak anymore, no no don''t leave me all alone... not you too... no no no gods no...."


    Have you ever heard the heavens beg? It is not as sweet as you may think, it sounds like an ugly crying child. That''s exactly it, I still have the strength to laugh.


    "...so...ugly.... cries....so ....ugly."


    Stop crying. Don''t cry anymore. Don''t shed any more tears for me, I can''t take this kindness.


    "...I....hate....you."


    I love you.


    "....always....hated...you."


    I''m sorry for not being a good enough person, a strong enough person to save us.


    "why ...you?....hate you...so much."


    Don''t be fooled by others so easily! You''re always so easy! They don''t love you, don''t care for you- they will use you till you''re dried up and paint their golden carriages with your ground up bones. Don''t mistake adoration and greed for love.


    I love you okay? Not in the way that marbled man loves you- not in any way someone as hollow and unloved as me has the capacity to- but I love you very much.


    "Please no, please don''t ...don''t'' do this- don''t go. Please Rosa don''t-you can hate me it''s okay just please don''t- don''t leave!"


    "...let....me...go."


    I don''t want to be here anymore. I don''t want to hurt anymore.


    "Stay- come back to me, please oh by all the gods and goddesses please."


    ....No.


    "Wake up, please wake back up.


    No


    "Wake up! Rosa! Wake up!!!"


    No...


    -


    ---


    -------


    In the darkness there is rest, there is peace. I have no sense of self and certainly no sense of responsibility, pain or anything human. I just am, breathing, and I peacefully rest.


    That is until something pokes my cheek, irritating me awake.


    "If you don''t wake up, I''m really going kiss you this time"


    "If you don''t move away from me in 3 seconds I will bite you."


    "If it''s from pretty big sis then, yes please."


    Meng DeHua groaned, and waves her hand from the counter as if to swat away an annoying fly.


    "Herdandez! John! Do your jobs and get this shitty bartender away from me."


    "No can do! Boss'' fam gets immunity." shouts a gruff but humorous voice, the closet bodyguard,from across the room.


    "Ack! Calling out another man''s name right as you wake up!? Ow ow ow, you can hit me more but don''t call out another guy''s name."


    "Jung-soo! Get your shit- eating little brother under a leash. "


    "Hey hey it''s still no good if it''s my brother''s name! Actually, that''s worse!"


    From behind a sleek sliding screen that tastefully separates the bar from the kitchen, a cool handsome man in glasses peeks out for a moment.


    "That''s too troublesome. Try my hyung?"


    "Ahhh don''t call out hyung''s name too, heeeeey don''t ignore me Mengmeng."


    "Boooooooosssss! Get your youngest away. He''s sexually harassing customers again!"


    From up the stairs, another voice shouts back.


    "You don''t pay for it so you''re not a customer! Jung-joon stop giving her free booze, she even doesn''t work here anymore!"


    "Hey! You still use me on call! I do weekends sometimes. This is still harassment!"


    "Stop showing up so much then! Aye! I can''t stand your flirting, take it somewhere where else!"


    "I do not flirt!"


    "Don''t mind him, bak to me. He''s just jealous of us because he''s old and single and nowhere near as handsome as me!" the young bartender yells the last part up so it reaches whoever was upstairs on the club''s inner balcony. A "shut up" echoes back before the youth turns back to her.


    "There is no us, give me a break with that old joke Jung-joon, I''m tired and prolly dehydrated."


    There''s a glass of lemon water in front of her before she even knows it.


    "Are you having a rough time at your agency again? Another new market or product assignment? Which job is it now? You suddenly fell asleep with only two drinks today I was worried. You can always quit you know?"


    "Huh? Yeah probably that, my director keeps piling me on because I of all people, can ''handle it.'' . But nah, I just had that weird dream again. The full version."


    "The one where you''re like, a girl''s dating sims villian? Do you get a fan and horn drill curls too? Ow, I''m kidding, ah but don''t move your hand away. You must really like that series deep down to dream about it."


    "I don''t even remember reading or playing anything like it though! Where did it come from? Really good graphics on that bad endding though, too good. It gives me the heebiejeebies."


    "Awww, don''t be scared. You know even if you somehow did have a magical twin sister, I''d never put her over you~. Wanna play a new game together? It can be a date."


    "That''s because I don''t have a sister you soggy dish rag for brains. Go out and get a girlfriend if you''re so desperate. You should have no problem Mr. popular! Nevermind, you should be studying for your grad exams! AH, youth, I remember those times."


    "I''m trying to, thank you for noticing....you''re only 3 years older than me."


    "Ah youth! So loooong ago, oh my back, ow my head."


    "Hyyuuung, I''m taking the car and getting Mengmeng to her place. She looks oddly hungover today."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.comfor visiting.


    "And whose fault is that?! Meng Dehua you''re working the next 3 wedding sized events for me when you''re next free to pay this tab!"


    The girl hops off the barstool and waves off everyone still cleaning up in the trendy but elegant club. Her volunteer designated driver steadying her as they make their way to the exit.


    "Yeah yeah I know, bye to you too boss! *sigh*....Thanks for the ride dude but you don''t have to, I can take the metro fine."


    "Mmm, of course, I have to? I can''t let you go alone like that. What if some bad guys see your vulnerable drunk self and come harass you or, *gasp* I don''t even wanna think about it. Unless this is the part that I come in dramatically punching them out, which makes your heart beats fast and you swoon at the sight of me and-"


    She slides into the car''s open passenger seat and closes on the door on him mid sentence, leaving him to fumble around to the driver''s side.


    "MengMeng, it''s far safer with me. Don''t put yourself at risk like that, it worries me. Here you can take a nap if you want? I''ll drive really slowly and softly. Are you comfortable enough, do you want another plushie pillow? I''ll wake you up you get home ok? So just rest easy."


    *yawn* "...yeah do that...please...wake me up....when I''m ...home."


    -----


    ---


    -


    I blink awake, sleep still heavy over me. I blink awake slowly like how you could pull a warm blanket off in the morning. Nowhere near as comfortable as sleeping in.


    The dreams, or displaces memories, I blink those away too, scrubbing my eyes with squishy little arms.


    What an odd dream, I wonder why out of all things I would dream of that?...That''s right, I had those dreams sometimes. Those names, "Lilyanne","Eirk", "Rosa" ...those are our names.


    Did I really get transferred into an otome game world I don''t remember ever playing? I tried searching for them on the internet but no real results ever matched up. But here I am.


    Then....is this world a game? Or a story?


    I don''t know but it doesn''t matter when I''m physically living in it. I''m Rosalia now, I have been Rosalia for all this time. Everyone is a story if you think about it like that. I mean just look at grampa.


    Wonder why I dreamt of my other life, of the bar I used to work at? It''s not like they were the only people I complained to about that dream, god knows my family heard me all the time.


    I must miss tasty booze too much.


    Grow up faster oh tiny body of mine. Wait, no, don''t I still have plans and things to do.


    "Rosa! wak wak up!" shouts Lilyanne''s excitedly, far too loud since she''s right next to me on the bed! Ugh, we''re going to have a talk about looming and scaring me in the mornings!


    But, it isn''t morning light? And wasn''t I just at the outer farm? How am I back in our shared bedroom?


    "She''s awake!? Call for my husband and papa back, she''s woken up!"


    "Mama?"


    "Yes Rosa! Oh how are you feeling my darling? Oh my little girl, don''t be scared. You will never have to step foot on those dirty scary harvestings, I knew you were far too young to go and see those things I told Frederick darling and-"


    "She''s awake?"


    The guiled double doors open with a bang even with the servants'' opening it up, and father rushes up where mother and Lilyanne seem to be hovering over me. He''s still dressed in the same common peasant garb, one of his end scene Mr. Darcy shirts, from earlier.


    I remember now, the farm, the hogs. The clumsy teenagers that overdid the bleeding. Somehow it affected me so badly I passed out?


    How embarrassing! In front of everyone too!


    I''m really not that that squeemish! Is it this body? To be triggered by the sight of a pig to slaughter?


    Oh no after this mother won''t let me go out anywhere! I can secretly escape when she''s not looking but it''s a pain and so much harder. This won''t do!


    "I''m fine! I''m realy fine, I must have missed too many naps, or got thrown too hard! As a pumpkin! Oh nevermind I''ll explain later mama. Da- ...father? What happened after, where are we?"


    "You''re home Rosa, your grandfather was closer when there was shouting how you simply collapsed.We flew back to the camp but troops medical team checked over you and couldn''t find what was wrong. You just fainted and slept the whole time till now."


    "I''m sorry! I''ll do better at sleeping enough during naps and at bedtime."


    "Well I should hope so! Frederick darlingdid you let her stay up late?"


    "Of course not dear, I did not ''let Chip to stay up."


    "Oh that just means you two did so anyway! I suppose you were up drawing all sorts of toys and contraptions again! You hardly come to bed on time either and-"


    Maybe it would be smarter to stay silent as mother is distracted from me to father. But it''s actually my fault this time soooo....


    ...I have to resort to the big guns to ease her this time.


    Be thankful father!


    "Mama I''m sowwy, it''s all my fault. I won''t do it again. Please mama, don''t tell me I''m grounded? Pweeeeease mama!"


    Baby voice me sounds far more diabetic than Lilyanne''s naturally sweet cry. I need to drop my shame and really up the sugar levels to soften up my mother when she''s like this. I can''t faucet cry like Lilyanne but cue the wet teary eyes!


    I''m also saving my own hide, really please don''t put me on lock down again. I''ll go mad with boredom! You don''t need any more hair ribbons mother, please I counted so many in your closet already.


    *Sigh* "You''re thinking of running out again already?! Oh dear must you take after these of your papa and grandpapa? Darling, I''d never ''ground'' you, that sounds terrible. No dear, I''m keeping you home, you''re obviously too fragile to be out for so long Please, try to learn a bit from your sister and be good, you''re a girl you know?"


    "What does being a girl have to do with if I''m grounded or not?"


    "Rosalia Therese Ventrella! You are to sit and stay home where you are meant to be, not gallivanting around like an adult man, for a very long time! And you too Frederick darling, don''t think you''re off the hook yet! Where is my papa? Did I not call for him? He can''t be hiding again, not when I called?"


    Ah I''m doomed, mother caught all of us and we''re doomed. Lilyanne is giggling at the scene, not understanding the implications of punishment that father and I are now going to be facing. Grampa''s joining us soon or I call foul.


    Say father, did you manage to bring home mother''s peace offering presents at least?


    Eventually, grampa does arrive, fashionably late to the party, as ever. I don''t know whether out of the fear for mother or something else but the air is off. He''s smiling like usual but it feels off.


    "Pumpkin you''re awake! Thank goodness it was nothing serious, even Gable assured me! Did the sausage stuffing shock scare you that much! My my my I don''t know how you''ll become a fine hero without a better constitution!"


    "Papa! Of course it did! She''s only a small child, don''t be dragging her off in training so much yet. You wouldn''t do such a thing to Lilyanne. Rosalia may be older but not by much."


    Grampa relents, full on comfort mode towards mother. She''s getting all the pets and pats and he soothes her like a child.


    "Yes yes my dear Maria, I''m sorry I''ll keep a better eye out on your eldest baby girl here. But first, it looks my troublesome granddaughter and I need to have a special talk! May we Maria? Freddy?"


    "Oh yes please! It''s about time! Rosa my little girl if you don''t want to listen to mama, then listen to your grandpapa about behaving."


    Well that doesn''t sound very strict, don''t you know best what grampa is like?


    With a clap mother motions her maids and seemingly with one hand gathers both Lilyanne and father up and out. She doesn''t lock the door but when it closes, a zap of green lights the room, sealing all doors, windows, and crevices.


    Grampa has taken my mother''s place on the bed and pats my hair into a bird''s nest from his looming position. Grin far too wide and stupid, to the point his eyes are closed.


    I know this face, this atmosphere. It feels like those times when I was just a newborn.


    He''s not really smiling, not with his eyes and I gulp.


    "Wasn''t that harvest wonderful!?! Well except for that last part you know. Did you have fun, Rosalia?"


    I just can''t catch a break, can I?


    -----

 66 I donst wanna do this, do you?

    So you know how mother basically grounded me just now?


    There is only one person that can override mother''s orders. It''s not father. It''s not grampa.


    It''s the one, the only, great Gable!


    Yes, Gable solves all, let''s contact Gable! Didn''t he examine me when I was down and out somehow? Did you say something about that right gramps? Let''s get Gable here! Or somehow contact him!?


    Wouldn''t that be a much better idea than this?!


    Grampa''s smiling expression gives nothing away as she peers at me through his scarily perfect smile.


    "....actually yes that is a much better idea."


    Aaaaaaaaaand he breaks. Just sighs with comical relief as his panicked stupid expression comes back out.


    "Right! It''s a great idea, we should get Gable to help."


    "We should call Gable!"


    "You can do that gramps? Well, get on it!"


    That actually worked? Who cares, great, we''re on the same page here! He doesn''t really want to have whatever this bad conversation is either.


    With another sigh of relief and strange-looking artifact he seemingly pulls out of thin air, from the plain leather wristband tied to his person I finally noticed, grampa draws an electric circle in the air. It materializes into a port key sort of things and rings in electric vibrations like a phone.


    Grampa and I silently await the magical equivalent of a phone call to ring and connect.


    It''s too awkward for me to even yell because he had this device the whole time? You know how much effort it would have saved if he just gave me one? Why are we still using messenger birds if you have this sort of magical technology!?


    I mean, obviously no one else has it so maybe it''s rare and Gable exclusive. I''m still low key mad about it though.


    The floating circle bloops to life and one of Gable''s portals solidifies as his image appears. Blessed be Gable! Today his hair is in a dashing bun! So lovely! He looks very handsome and not at all like a tired new parent to a hyperactive child!


    "I see the both of you are calling, yes?"


    Before Grampa nor I could get a word of confirmation out Gable directs a glare over to grampa.


    "Ronald, stop being a dammed coward."


    Eh?


    Before I can get over my confusion at what''s going on or why grampa has suddenly crumpled like a popped balloon, my world''s favorite person turns to me. I know it''s directed at me because his voice turns much more gentle but no less pinpoint sharp.


    "And Rosalia, I''m disappointed in you."


    Ouch! ow ow ouch! I''m not kidding, this actually hurts.


    These short curt words are so deadly coming from Gable''s lips. He sounds actually let down! But what did I do?!


    ...I mean I have an idea but.....ah this is really difficult.


    "Talk it out you two, you''re already here. Don''t even think about using me as a distraction or a translator. "


    Damn, Gable truly is amazing. With one look he''s seen through the both of us.


    If there''s one thing grampa and I automatically agree on, it''s how much we don''t really want to address the elephant in the room.


    Except we''re each other''s elephants and the topic is reincarnation. Or is it transmigration? I don''t know! World hopping?


    How does one even bring that up?!


    Oh hello great big scary muscle bear man, I, a tiny toddler am actually an adult woman with mostly all my memories intact. Would you like to perhaps discuss the strange limitations of life and the universe over a beer?


    NO!


    No I can''t just go right out and say it like that! I can''t even drink!


    ...grampa what are you doing? Grampa what is in that flask? Grampa!? No fair how come he gets liquid courage and I don''t!


    "Because I made this wine and you''re only two and oh god do I really have to do this right now? Can''t we wait till she''s older? Til I''m older!?" pleads gramps to the mirror.


    For once I agree with him.


    Sure there are many things I''d like to know from grampa but now that we''re here this is too awkward for the both of us. We''re clearly not ready for this conversation. Let''s put it off a little while longer yeah?


    I''m not at risk of dying just yet right? We can wait! Please don''t make me confront this, I am feeling very attacked right now. Wait I''m weak, I''m recuperating from whatever just happened to me! Yes, lets put this off for another better time.


    Gable gives us both very unimpressed stares from across the magical screen.


    "....you two are certainly related, I''ll give you that."


    "Well, of course, that''s why we''re even here." declared grampa in such a simplistic way that had Gable rolling his eyes.


    How unrelated and somewhat offensive Gable. I love and respect you but I don''t see the family resemblance between grampa and me. Perhaps you''re mistaking me with Lilyanne? Though that''s increasingly harder to do since my hair''s turned closer to my father''s shade. I am tanner, like grampa, though?


    Through the camera portal Gable gives a long sigh and makes to threateningly hang up.


    "Handle it between yourselves, ...god they''re so much fucking alike."


    "We are not." I manage to cry out


    "Still can hear you Gabbey."


    Gable looks down somewhere off-screen, there''s the sound of childish screaming and a roaring clucking in the background. I''m guessing Lukas is in trouble with the chickens again.


    "By the gods, it''s not that bloody hard to...just talk it out you two- now Ronald."


    "....yes Gable."


    "No one is forcing you to do anything, no one can force you to do anything, not even me."


    "I beg to differ! There was most certainly that time w-"


    "Then beg." Gable interrupts curtly, shutting grampa down with nothing more than his cold voice and a colder glare. I can almost see grampa''s doggy tail droop down into obedience.


    I would also like to beg to differ about this topic but do not speak out. It''s rude to interrupt and honestly, I think I would die if Gable talked to be the same harsh way he does grampa.


    "Ronald...don''t do this for anyone else but yourself. Do this for the 13-year-old you or the 10 year old or hell even the 2 year old. Do it for you."


    "....which one are we talking about here?"


    "You know that better than I would hero."


    "...so about the begging?"


    But before grampa could distract and divert the topic, Gable turns to me, instantly softening. Oh thank god, glaring Gable is scary. Very very pretty still don''t get me wrong but scary.


    "And Rosalia, you''re still a child no matter what you may think. It''s alright to cry or seek help because that''s what children must do. You''re allowed to be scared or frightened of things, everyone is. Do you understand me Rosa?"


    "...yes Gable." I sulk, already uncomfortable all over again. But I can''t say no to Gable.


    "Don''t hold everything in till you go mad, or rather, you don''t have to. Alright dear?"


    "....yes Gable."


    "You''re a good girl you know that? You may call yourself many things, many names inside that overthinking head of yours but, there''s a very good and kind person there. Don''t sell yourself short kiddo."


    That''s stupid, I am not good. I never scored any of the good on the alignment chart. I''m a chaotic neutral at best.


    I am selfish and only interested in anything that can benefit me. Only Lilyanne is my strange exception for reasons I don''t fully understand myself. Even then that''s complicated. But I don''t say so out in front of Gable, because if he says I''m good then at least for my favorite person I''ll be good. Just in front of him at least.


    "You''re better than you think you are...the both of you. Ronald, you''ve proven that again and again despite the odds so....so I''ll be waiting for you when you''re done alright. You won''t get through everything in one day, but you can start. I believe in you, the both of you."


    "But-"


    And with a zap of light, the portal dispells and he''s gone. He really hung up.


    It''s a complicated feeling, being both scolded and comforted. I never feel more like a vulnerable child than when under the scrutiny of Gable.


    I am very uncomfortable but growth oftentimes is.


    This isn''t something we can just get over, it''s a hard topic to breach. But a part of me wants to be the sort of good that Gable thinks I''m capable of. What a strange messy sort of person I am, a really ugly person.


    Like a tiny caterpillar, squirming around and feeding myself fat. In order to grow into a butterfly, I have to melt into goo and restructure myself atom by atom as a pupa. Except in this mental picture, I''ll never be a butterfly. I''ll melt into goo and something beautiful won''t come out of it, if I even do come out at all.


    Maybe a moth or something. Those annoying flapping things that keep flying into your house at night, maybe into your computer screen when the room is dark. Dumb things.


    While I''m contemplating the futility of my very sad existence, grampa takes another long and unfair swig of his flask.


    "A thousand flaming arrows." he finally croaks out, voice breaking from either a burp or something else I don''t know.


    "....a what?"


    "I don''t know, somewhere around that number? I couldn''t exactly count! So a thousand something enchanted flaming arrows just hailing from the sky."


    ".....that''s....uh...dramatic? Epic? I don''t know."


    What am I supposed to make of this random information? Grampa can you be clearer for god''s sake....actually you know what I give up. There''s no beating around the bush with this man, no subtlety outside the battlefield. If you want anything with grampa you have to ask for it, directly. Conversation with him is essentially hitting the topic straight on.


    Let''s just rip this bandage off.


    "Grampa, what are you even talking about?"


    "I don''t know! I hardly remember it myself okay, or well try not to."


    "Remember what? I''m confused. A thousand flaming arrows falling from the sky? Is that like an attack sequence or something?"


    "....Yeah Gable warned me about being clearer... it''s just um....well...that''s how I died."


    "Yes, you do need to be clearer because I''m always stuck guessing what you''re really saying and- oh...ohhhh."


    Well, I messed up already. The realization of grampa''s words coming too late. I''m so used to half tuning through his bullshit that when it actually something as serious as this, I wasn''t prepared for it at all. That''s my bad.


    "....Sorry." I mutter.


    Do I pat him on the arm or something? A word of comfort? What do you say to that? I can only apologize for my own behavior because what do you say to ''btw death by arrows''. I didn''t realize we were already going straight for the kill.


    As expected of grampa, he''s ripping his own bandage off first. Painfully, awkwardly and did I mention painfully.


    "Nothing to be sorry about, unless you were secretly the one laying siege on us." grampa sighed into his drink.


    "So...were you um, injured beforehand grampa? Or with this just a big bad sneak attack-"


    "Both, both very injured and they kept attacking. Kinda both? It stops being a sneak attack after the first time."


    "I mean...it''s still a sneak attack?"


    "Yes, I suppose it really was, huh. I mean I knew but- guess it wasn''t enough."


    "So....."


    "So yeah, death by a thousand or so flaming arrows. I honestly didn''t mind that part so much."


    Wait wait what! How does one not mind dying?! By a thousand flaming arrows. One arrow is bad enough ripping through flesh or your skull. What''s a thousand of them gonna do to the point one doesn''t mind!?


    Grampa takes my befuddlement with a chuckle, not yet drunk but perhaps a bit more relaxed from the wine.


    "The worst part isn''t so much dying. Living is full of death. " he takes another swig and a steadying breath.


    "It''s dying with a sense of loss, a sense of waste. You''re the waste. It''s dying after watching your world collapse, dying worse than shit without leaving anything good behind you. Where the world and everyone you ever touched really was better off without you ever existing, and you brought this hell to them just by being there."


    He looks down at his free hand and examines it in an oddly fascinated kind of way. As if it were a strange foreign things, that perhaps had a cursed Midas touch. He smiles wryly, more than a little self depreciatingly and his eyes unintentionally meet mine.


    I think there''s still on fire, whatever he still sees when he closes his eyes long enough. It must all still be on fire, ruin.


    He holds out his seemingly cursed hand, hovering above me. Then sighs and pats my head with it. When I do not turn into a golden statue or erupt into flames or whatever cursed touch he''s imagining, he''s roughly messing up my hair into the usual bird''s nest.


    "Hey!"


    This time I don''t fight it though, not really. There''s something awfully disconcerting about the touch, more on grampa''s side than my own. As if he''s confronting something.


    "Well...it''s too late for you anyways little one. " he sighs.


    Ah, I guess it doesn''t matter if we curse me by head pats.


    He''s not wrong though, out of everyone near him, it really is too late for me. Just by existing, I am something that''s not meant to be.


    Doesn''t mean I want to die so awfully though. But living is also painful.


    "Really though, I think the worst part wasn''t even me dying worse than dog shit." grampa complained. He sounds so casual about it now, like the way I would complain about work at the bar.


    Ahhhhhh, I want a drink too, what an awkward spot to be in. I get nothing to break the tension, nada.


    "I had to watch a lot of people die before me, died because of me. They were all better than me, this poor nobody, and they all still dropped dead if they weren''t already from the night before."


    He leans back and his head hits the headboard with a loud thump. It sounded like it would hurt if he were a normal person.


    "....your subordinates?" I ask, a child being told a story they don''t get. Did you fail a raid, fail to defend against a battle? Did you lead your men to their death in the wars of yesteryear?


    "No, nothing like that. I was a bastard of nobody, I had no power to subordinate anyone really."


    "But-" but that doesn''t make sense.


    You''re the hero, the strongest most renowned hero of this world. How could someone larger than life as grampa be a cursed nobody?


    Well, I guess that''s where the reincarnation comes in.


    "And then?" I ask, prompting the next line in this impromptu script.


    "And then....well I''m not sure what happened. I died, I died very miserably. I died and I couldn''t save the people most important to me. I died only a few feet away from the cold corpse of my most precious person, I couldn''t even....yeah. I died."


    It''s like he can''t decide on what to say, how to word his thoughts in the proper sequence and order. So he takes another drink. That''s the magic of alcohol, it gets the words going. I can smell the red wine that spices his breath. It''s not infused with honey, herbs or anything that would dilute it. This wine doesn''t need to be masked, it''s a proper aged red wine, none of the cheap stuff I know is local to the taverns and troops.


    "I died and that was that. And somewhere else, a boy dreamed bits and pieces of that sad nobody''s life. And that boy grew up to be a fine general in his own right. It was a different world than here, where people didn''t rely so much on magic, where the world wasn''t wrecked by beats and war, and there was actually wine to be had. Did you know no one here knew how to brew a good wine a couple of decades ago? Preposterous!? Everything was weaker than cat''s piss or it tasted just as bad."


    I nod in understanding and can feel as grampa shivers at the memory. A world with no wine? Ah how utterly depressing. That''s how I feel about the lack of rice wine, I still haven''t found it here. It''s hard to replicate the taste of cooking without rice wine.


    " What about beer? Other spirits?"


    "Mead! They had mead for the rich and cat piss for the rest of us!"


    "....do you mean ale?"


    "No! I updated everyone''s cat piss into an actual ale! It was awful, and then there were convincing people to actually grow hops! Or grow anything that wasn''t immediately meant to be eaten! Oh god the farms- oh by the gods I had never seen such pathetic excuses of farmlands."


    ....They actually are still pretty sad and lacking. The lack of modernization and techniques still had be cringing. I don''t want to imagine just how bad they were back in grampa''s youthful days.


    There there, I pat his chest where I can reach. I finally understand some of your pain gramps.


    Taking another lingering sip of his properly made wine, grampa shudders but realizes he''s gotten off


    the topic.


    "So one day, the general, who was everything that nobody ever was, one day he died."


    "....how?"


    "...he doesn''t know exactly. Maybe it was in battle, but it probably wasn''t. He died, maybe a little too angrily and then.....he was born again."


    "Into a Ronald Ventrella?"


    "....no....and yes. I didn''t have a name, first or last. But I was born with all of that boy general''s memories, and then all of my own. And while I was remembering the weight of it all, the woman who must have gave birth to me disappeared."


    "She just vanished?"


    "She left us in the wilderness. Thus the no name."


    "Us?"


    The more he speaks the more confused I get. Grampa gives me three more questions for every single one he answers.


    "My brother I suppose, he didn''t make it for long. Never had a chance out there. "


    "Wait wait wait?! What sort of brother? A twin brother?!"


    "Hmmmm yes I suppose that''s considered a twin brother."


    "Holy shit!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Language Rosalia." shruggs grampa, who has his priorities in all the wrong places.


    What the hell? What in the world is with all these revelations! What could they all mean?! Gable please, Gable come help me out. I''m so confused and also rightfully terrified!


    "Annnnnnd I''m out of wine. Used it all up while we''re at those farms. Gods they look so much better than back then. Your turn little one."


    "Wait no grampa, you can''t just leave off at that part! That has to be important somehow!? Twins?! Lilyanne and I are twins!"


    "Yes, yes I think everyone already knows that."


    "So?! You don''t find it fishy or....or you already know something about that."


    "Rosalia dear I am still very much out of wine and I''m not hearing much from your side. I am absolutely complaining to Gable after this."


    Well...that''s fair. I''m still reeling in shock at all the tibbets I''ve hears thus far. It''s informational overload. The conspiracy theories in my brain are not connecting shit but they''re connecting something with these dots.


    "Are we done for the day Rosalia or shall we get to talking about your little episode. That might happen again if you''re triggered by anything too close your death but it gets better as you get stronger. Obviously fire and arrows doesn''t bother me at all. I don''t know how it will be for you but I stopped being so terribly affected after childhood. Cept for that one time that-"


    Grampa sprouts off, scratching his chin like he''s not just throwing his reincarnation vulnerabilities at me.


    But he is and it''s awkward and uncomfortable for both of us, even with the wine. But holy shit he''s actually trying. This man famous for wandering and disappearing through the land, the world''s most powerful hero yet awfully the biggest goof is actually being real with me.


    I don''t know how to feel about this but a strange hiccup is rising up in me.


    It must be thirst and the envy for drinking yes. I''m not getting emotional or tearing up for any other reason!


    "A couple of dozen stabs."


    "...what?"


    "I don''t know I didn''t count! It''s not a thousand arrows but maybe it totaled into the hundreds, I wouldn''t know. There was a sword wound and some other things in the mix in there too and I''m sure the blades were enchanted. Shit the stairs! I tumbled down the super gigantic stairs too ok so-"


    And for the first time ever, I tell someone how I died.


    _________________


    Bonus short:


    -----------------


    How does one go about addressing the woolly mammoth in the room?


    I may be rash at times, I admit- actions speak far louder than words. But I don''t think I can just go:


    Why hello there tiny easily killable human being who happens to be the unfortunate seed from the fruit of my loins. Welcome to this world- you''re going to have a bad time by no fault of my own.


    Really it''s not my fault the world is just awful. I''m just here riding the currents.


    I just so happened to have noticed that you''re not exactly of this world. Why I was once like that, fumbling through confusion fear and trauma! Ah feels just like yesterday, wait it was just yesterday. Here let me pull up a chair and we can mull over it over a jug of wine.


    No!


    No I can''t just do that. See Gable there are very good reasons why I can''t just- oh never mind. You don''t actually listen to this part when you''re weaving cloth with your little hooks. Why do you call it such odd names, crowchetting? Obviously it''s called knotting, spinning or weaving.


    Ah see I forgot what I was saying again! Oh age! Grand glorious aging, I swear I have not always been like this and easily distracted. Oh have you done something new with your hair, a new braid? It looks lovely as always.


    What I''m saying is, this conversation is not happening, not any time soon. What do I even say to her?! How do I start!?


    No I can''t just say what I just told you! That''s just idiotic!


    Yes I know my own eldest grandchild already thinks I''m an idiot at times but this conversation would truly be a mistake. This isn''t our Maria, Rosalia is a far more intimidating creature! We''ll never look at each other the same! Well not that we already interact normally. It''s been too late for us since her birth hasn''t it?


    I don''t know I was never trained for this!


    There was no protocol in the military for any of this! I can make a catapult out of near nothing not talk to supernaturally intelligent toddlers! Oh gods, was I ever like that? I would think not, I was still running around hunting dinosaur tails at that age. Ah, life was so much easier back then. No people, no clothes, of course, it was horribly lacking but what a simple life!


    I was not a savage feral barbarian Gable. I was simply a free child, a very free and spirited child living in the wilds. It was a wonderful training experience growing up.


    ...What if I just took Rosalia on a training trip? A real one this time? Just like when I was young! That''s bonding right?! Just like you said? What communication!


    ....okay I was wrong, Gable put down the wand, please. Sorry sorry ow, I got it no more leaving kids alone in the woods! Sheesh, what''s the big deal? I did it and I turned out fine.


    Okay okay shutting up now, I was wrong. Gable I''m sorry! Gaaaable, don''t ignore me this is serious.


    Being a grandpapa is so difficult, especially when your grandchild is the cute but troublesome Rosalia.


    What do you mean I''m far more trouble?! Sure we got into some, many, messes in our youth but you liked it right? You''re still here. Come on, it was fun on its own, I admit chaotic, way, don''t deny it. I am a grand delight!~


    -------

 67 Wrong timeline but what else do we have?

    I''ve probably left out some detail, okay fine I left out a lot of detail.


    Speaking out how I died is hard ok?


    It''s hard for the both of us I''m sure. It''s not like grampa gave me the full anthology version of his events either. All I got was a bloody siege that resulted in a lot of deaths with a grand finale of a thousand or so flaming arrows piercing through him fatally.


    "Wait wait, how old were you when you first died?"


    "Hmmmm about 17? Or was I 16? Kind of hard to keep track of the years when you spend the first few alone in the wilderness. "


    I still don''t know how grampa survived those early years, blessed child or not. I was born into the lap of luxury, as backwater as the standards are. I get a roof, a bed, and maids to feed me when they remember I exist.


    As annoying as my maids are, it has to be easier to scream for them to feed me then go rolling for own food.


    Where did he get milk to suckle? How did he move? Did he just baby roll to safety? Did a wild beast adopt him? See it''s really hard to ask all these things so our conversation was very...stilted and random.


    "...diapers?"


    "Didn''t wear any! I just wiped on the grass or whatever was suitable. Quite freeing really"


    "...milk?"


    "Roaming mountain goats! If you cry a certain pitch they think you''re one of them!"


    "....not getting eaten?"


    "Cover yourself in the mud to throw off your scent and be unappetizing! Keeps you both warm and cool. Protected from parasitic insects too!"


    That...is awful. I only spent a few days on my own in the wilderness but I was already shaking for my life. There''s a reason I kept hiding in trees and bushes! The forest grampa dropped me off in is nothing compared to wherever he was born. For one there are no dinosaurs to hunt or herds of mountain goats to suckle.


    "Huh I wonder what that even tastes like..."


    I''m getting distracted again, actually, it''s very easy to get distracted with grampa. Our one true talk is horribly random as we both get distracted.


    "The mountain goat milk? You''ve had it before Rosa, I snuck wild nursing goats to supply your baby bottle feedings. What else were we supposed to do after you started refusing the nursemaids?"


    "....."


    "You were such a healthy drinker though! Even more so than when you were nursing! Ha! I always knew wild mountain goat milk was better for children!


    Do you see what I mean by randomness?


    See Gable, this is why you shouldn''t leave grampa and me alone! We''re awkward and horrible together!


    "Hmmmm and how old were you when you died again pumpkin?"


    "The first or the second time?"


    "First? Both?"


    "17? and somehow I can''t really remember when....I think...no that''s no right...at least 25? At the very least. You?"


    "Can''t recall, don''t even know how I died. Maybe 30? Somewhere around there?"


    There is a pattern here but it''s something I can''t piece together yet. Something terribly suspicious and grampa knows that already, for far longer than I do.


    Is the topic important? Yes!


    Is it urgent though?


    Probably not, I have a few years left before any real trouble comes for me and over a decade until my dramatic death scene. Seeing how grampa didn''t have a repeat of his a few years back I say I have hope for overwriting mine.


    There''s a mystery here but it isn''t mine to solve. None of this affected the original timeline, at least not directly. Of course, I''m not dumb enough to think it''s entirely unrelated. I don''t honestly think my own original death is something simple, it was orchestrated from behind. The original Rosalia was always paranoid about too many little things, beyond the typical to-be queen assassination attempts. That''s why she often adorned herself with expensive enchanted jewels.


    The only problem was that she needed a lot of them to be effective for some reason.


    The negativity. The original Rosalia didn''t know about her passive ability, no one did. Who would? There was no way anyone could have known when it does nothing. It was overshadowed by Lilyanne''s blessing.


    Sure she could use enchanted tools and items but they seemed to run dead too soon or not be as effective as promised. The previous me just assumed she was either getting swindled or magical tools were simply limited to that. Absolute trash compared to having the real ability. It was still better than nothing.


    With that many enchanted amulets and jewels, it''s no wonder I took so long to die. Or how I could even handle that many lethal wounds. Geez talk about overkill.


    Presently I haven''t encountered that issue, even though I haven''t used much. None of the tools I ever touched seem to be low on power. They''re usually freshly charged by Lilyanne and I. The only exception is Luka''s cooling ice stone, only that is a foreign tool that we didn''t charge ourselves.


    But it works just fine.


    Either way something odd is going on.


    Both grampa and I lived and died as the originals of this world. And when we died again, right before being reborn to this place, none of us can''t recall how we died. Isn''t that just suspicious, also why us?


    "Are we the only ones?"


    "As far as I know, and I''ve checked. I keep checking everywhere I''ve been. To be honest your birth was a surprise. First I''ve ever seen."


    "How did you even know though?"


    What are the indicators that tell a reincarnator to another? Grampa shook his head, this is something he can''t tell me.


    "That, you''re going to have to figure out yourself."


    I fall silent.


    It''s not like I''ve run out of things to ask, or things to talk about. Rather, there''s too much. I don''t know where to next go, what to next say. To be honest I''m already feeling quite overwhelmed.


    It''s like when it rains too much too soon. Even if everyone needs it to rain, if it comes down all at once rather than gradually, it will flash flood. The ground can''t drink it up fast enough and it floods into a mess.


    That''s the state of my brain right now.


    This is too much ''talking'' for me, too much awkwardness. I know chances like these are awfully rare, knowing grampa, he''ll just run away again.


    But I have that same habit.


    "...Is that enough for now?" excuses are already spilling out of me.


    We did enough today right?


    Grampa gives me a half conflicted look, between what he should be doing and how he actually wants to proceed. For a moment I think he breaks and I have my usual derpy grampa back. But maybe the little voice inside him, the one that probably sounds like Gable, makes a point.


    "Yeah, that''s enough...for today. If you want it to be. "


    Oh great, now the little Gable sounding voice is affecting me too. Damn it.


    Guess I have put in some more effort on my part too.


    "....I don''t know. I don''t know because there''s a lot to say and a lot to ask and I don''t know where to start. I don''t know what any of this means or what it''s even supposed to mean? I don''t even know what I''m allowed to say."


    Ah, I over spoke. When I do say something it comes out as a rambling mess. I''m sorry. I''m sorry I don''t make more sense. Can we go back to random distractions? Or just going home? Oh wait, I''m already home, I guess.


    "What aren''t you allowed to say?" asked grampa after some time considering his words himself.


    "I don''t know. I don''t know but I know it''s going to be bad if I say out everything I''m thinking. I think some not so good stuff and I know things I shouldn''t. I don''t know when I''ll spill the wrong thing at the wrong time and ruin myself. So I always have to be careful. I always have to watch my words and what I''m doing or who is watching me."


    He looks at me like a scientist would look at a recently discovered bacteria. Some part morbid fascination, a good part confusion and even a slight look of disgust. See this is why this is difficult.


    I can fool other people around me, I can even behave for Gable, but I can''t fool the great hero Ronald. I can''t play along and I don''t know how to act when we''re not doing our routine in front of mother, father or Lilyanne.


    What are we?


    I''m this strange bacteria thing that''s invaded and settled into his family. I''m the reborn outsider. Where do I fit into this place? How do I proceed from here on? My only goal ultimately is that I don''t want to die again, not like that, but I don''t want to die right now either.


    I don''t think I can make it very well if I left right now. It''s unfortunate but I can''t be independent yet, I can''t cut myself away yet.


    "That''s...something you don''t have to consider living out in the woods." finally spoke grampa, it seems he really did think over my rambling nonsense and compared it to his own.


    I suppose not, despite both being reincarnatiors our similarity ends there.


    I don''t get to be a hero in my story, not like him.


    "But I wasn''t born free somewhere. I was born here, in this mansion...I''m going to grow into a hated woman, a nobelwoman surrounded by politics and schemes, and I''m going to die as one. I''m sorry. I wasn''t born with any magic or useful powers. I''m sorry, I didn''t choose this either."


    Can I shut up now? Can I stop before I say something really stupid? Before I dive too deep?


    "You''re not going to grow up hated." he tried.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    I can see him trying and I appreciate it, I really do. But it''s no use to try to comfort me with empty words.


    "I wasn''t born Lilyanne. I''m not the right one, I''m sorry. I''m sorry. I don''t mean to intrude. I didn''t even know who I was until I came here when I was born. I''m not going to hurt anyone, I don''t think I even can. I''m not very strong, no magic. But I really won''t....so please don''t think of me as a threat. I won''t do anything, even if I was capable of anything."


    Am I scary? I am aren''t I? Even though I don''t really know what people were so scared of? I never cut off anyone''s head or anything, though I did threaten many things and created a fuss here and there. I was a very proper noble villainess after all.


    But did that really warrant me the awful reputation that I had?


    Has history ever saw a demon child as boring as me? I don''t know what the original Rosalia was cursed with to have her lot in life.


    As an outsider, or someone who was once an outsider, I think she was a very unfortunate and very unloved child. A child that never got to grow up and heal. The only problem is right now, I''m that child all over again.


    Why me? Why her? Why were we cursed to repeat this life?


    "...You''re not a threat. I know Rosalia. I know you''re a good girl. I admit I didn''t know, couldn''t have known, years ago when you were first born. I admit I''m paranoid on too many points- and you felt that."


    "Didn''t you hear me! I''m not good! If this was a story I''d be the bad guy! Or well...one of them."


    "And who were the others?"


    What am I talking about? My brain hurts. The tragic life of Rosalia Therese Ventrella was short but it wasn''t that short. She had thoughts, had plans, theories and schemes of her own. It''s complicated and it doesn''t make sense.


    Did they really have to kill me? What would that really achieve? Too many people would have benefitted from me being dead, far too many. Almost the same amount of people who would benefit from Lilyanne being the sole heriess, absolutely free from my evil clutches.


    With me gone, Lilyanne was free to marry that horrible prince. But she was also left vulnerable to so many things. I was the eldest, the main heir and head of the Ventrellas while grampa was gone. Even though we''re the same age, even though we''re identical twins, people had to answer to me before approaching her.


    "...I don''t know.....I died too soon. I couldn''t- I couldn''t find them all and I couldn''t...." where am I going with this?


    "Rosalia? Rosalia, look at me. It''s okay, that''s plenty, more than enough for today."


    When I don''t listen, grampa lifts me up further from his lap and turns me to face him. I don''t know who he''s seeing here. Me? Or his original real grandchild? Maybe even himself.


    "The memories, they''re a lot to unload. Most people already have a hard time living with their current lifetime of memories, not to say one or two additional ones. Don''t force yourself to work it all out at once, gods know I didn''t. "


    This is what I wanted. I wanted a sign that said enough, that I can stop talking now. But somehow I can''t. The scary feelings are spilling out, the memories I tried not to think too hard about are emerging.


    "Lilyanne''s in danger. She''s always going to be in danger, too many strange people are after her and the dawn blessing. I can''t do it, I couldn''t even keep myself safe. You have to -"


    "Shhh that''s enough Rosalia, I know. I know that better than anyone."


    "You left, you left us alone. You left on another stupid trip and you didn''t come back! You knew I couldn''t do anything and you still left!"


    Somehow, somewhere along the way I have started crying. It''s this sensitive young body, it cries so easily!


    Like a child, I can''t stop hiccupping these tears. It''s so uncomfortable!


    The big man underneath me takes my tantrum and any weak hits that land on him. I bet it feels like nothing to him, maybe a baby animal pawing. I''m so pathetic.


    "They died.... Mama and papa died, they *hic* never found their *hichic* bodies. But I know they died, why else wouldn''t they come home to Lilyanne? They wouldn''t leave her! Then you *hic* left too! Are you all idiots!? ...Did you die too?!"


    "I don''t know that. Not yet. I''m sorry."


    Sorry means absolutely nothing, this isn''t even the right timeline to blame.


    The man that should be the world''s greatest most intimidating hero is now stuck rocking a crying toddler who is going through an awful tantrum. If I wasn''t so unreasonably hurt, so sad and scared from whatever old resurfaced feelings, I''d be laughing at how awkward I must have made things for him. Serves the old man right.


    I want to scream more but I''ve spilled too much already. I''ve said more things I can''t take back. But it doesn''t stop because I''ve broken the damn and now stuck in this flood I''ve let loose.


    "They died? My Maria will die?"


    He doesn''t stop rocking me and I hate it. I hate being treated like a crying child, I hate that I can''t stop.


    "They *hic* left and they didn''t come back, *hic*they were supposed to come back! Their carriage was never *hic* found."


    "When?"


    It''s hard to talk when I can''t stop hiccuping! But grampa doesn''t rush me after he asks a question, just rocks my tiny frame and pats my back too harshly with his large hand. I don''t like this, let me go! Don''t be nice to me, it makes it all worse!


    "When Rosalia, when?"


    He places a disgustingly soft kiss to my head, and another to my reddening forehead. It makes me cry even harder and it''s horrible.


    If you want something just tell me. Let''s just make a fair business deal between rational adults. Please don''t be nice to me. Don''t be good to me when I don''t get to keep it.


    "8. *hic* 8 years from now.*hic* We were 10." I manage to sob out and somehow he manages to understand me.


    "That''s a good girl, thank you for telling me Rosa. Thank you for opening up and letting me help. You don''t have to remember anymore, not for today. You can rest. We have time, we can save them this time. "


    "No. *hic* No I don''t."


    I don''t have much time left and I''ve cut it even shorter now.


    This family won''t get rid of me yet. They still need me to keep Lilyannie healthy. Until she can control her powers on her own, they can''t get rid of me. But our baptism is coming up, and then the first major domino will fall.


    They never hit me or cursed me, at least my parents didn''t. The maids and my upper instructors were another story. But for the most part I wasn''t mistreated. I just....wasn''t there, like a ghost.


    I shouldn''t have been born in the first place. That''s what I learned from my first round of childhood.


    So that''s why I can''t handle it, I don''t react well to you guys being nice to me. Stop it. Go back to ignoring me already. I''m ready for that, I''ve been ready.


    I''ll go away when it''s the right time and won''t bother you, won''t bother Lilyanne anymore. Just give me a few more years. So don''t play these mind games with me ok?


    "You really want to leave?"


    Even though he asked like it was a statement, his hold gets even more uncomfortable. Shit I''m so tired from crying that I have little to no filter between my words and thoughts anymore.


    "Of course I want to leave! Who wouldn''t!? I''m like an alien or something playing house and invading your home life! You should be thanking me for getting out of your hair so easily! I won''t even demand financial compensation after I make my profits turnover...so..."


    The silence is even more uncomfortable when the room was just so loud. Since the noise is coming all from me, it''s up to me to keep filling it,


    "So it''s ok. You can let me go. I''m not really a baby and you don''t have to pretend so much."


    "....."


    I''m sniffing too hard and my eyes are probably a puffy mess but I''m trying to be serious here as I try to compose myself. Giving myself a little more dignity than a crying child that needs to be held.


    I hope you''re proud of me Gable because I''m sure as hell not proud of myself right now. But I''m trying to do the right thing, as awful as it feels.


    "I''ll be good in front of Lilyanne and everyone. You can still find me later on if you somehow need me, I know you can. It''s ok. But for now...can I still play along? I''m too small to go anywhere, I''m not strong like you. Can I still act like Rosalia of this house?"


    "For god''s sake of course Rosalia, who else would you be?"


    Good, he''s already back to playing along. I can do this...I can get these terms and conditions out in the clear.


    "Then...at least for now....can I still call you grampa? At least for appearance''s sake? I don''t know what else to call you when I''m supposed to be Rosalia."


    And I think I broke him, I think I finally broke grampa because he starts whimpering and crying ugly himself, big cow eyes and all. It''s awful how much it resembles Lilyanne, but worse than that it breaks what little composure I managed to gather. So now we''re both crying and it really is a flooded mess in here.


    Hey stop that, I''m the toddler here! Why in the world are you crying too!


    This is officially the worse 1st meeting of the reincarnator''s club. Gable, don''t leave us alone with each other anymore!

 68 Back to the boring stuff

    Ahhhh it''s been so long since I''ve had a relaxing face mask. A little ''me time'' you know? Life as a little noble lady can be so stressful, especially when you''re me.


    "Um, my lady? Are you sure those vegetable slices go... there ... on your eyes?"


    I can''t see anything with the chilled cucumber slices cooling down my puffy eyes, but I can hear my young private maid Abbey fuss around the room. While she has calmed down considerably since first arriving here, it''s hard to get this girl to relax.


    "What have I said about calling me by my name? And of course they do! The cool sensation is wonderful for tired eyes and these vegetables have other good properties for your skin. Yes, yes we shall do more research on cucumbers when they''re back in season."


    "Yes my lad- err Rosalia. More on cucumbers."


    "Actually this is your new assignment, you are now required to test these face masks mixtures at least once a day for 30 minutes. You must lay back and relax with a mask and maybe a warm foot daily from now on. "


    "Bu-but the work-"


    "By my command Abbey, we must test not only the beautifying effects but the relaxing ones. Both are quite important. Rich clients demand all the best, more than what they''re advertised. That''s how we up the price. Do you understand?"


    "Yes! Forgive me ignorance! I will diligently test for the calming and relaxing qualities of each mask blend!"


    "Don''t forget to massage yourself with our ''warming oil'' blends, you must test for uh...absorption? Yes, absorption and muscle relaxing. I expect the heating oils will be a hit as it gets colder."


    "Yes my l- Rosalia!"


    It''s so hard to get this girl to chill out. I have to ''assign'' breaks and such otherwise she''d find some work to do over and over again. My skincare research room is steadily filling up new varieties of things other than just soap. They''re all so perfectly organized that even I get scared to walk into my own research room.


    It''s like I''m walking into a nice store full of goods to check out but there''s an overly attentive employee right behind me, watching my every move. How nervewracking. It makes you not even want to enter.


    Except I''m the store''s boss and my unfortunate employee is Abigail here. It''s wonderful she''s such a hard worker but I''m not into abusing children with labor. At least her education is going well, does all her homework. She''s the ''wants extra credit'' type of student.


    Of course, the basic soap is the most popular item within the staff and household, it''s the thing most often used. Seasonal scents and testers are nice too.


    "Roooossaaa, the zucchini bread is ready, did you want to take off your scary face gunk and come try this out or can we just eat this without you?" calls Georgey-boy''s voice from the direction of the doorway.


    How dare he, I''ve been waiting for this!


    The main reason I''ve put on a face mask and been laying here is to pass the time waiting for the zucchini bread to bake!


    No I was not stress baking, I was merely too excited to finally put the souvenirs spices to good use.


    After the disaster that was grampa''s and mine''s crying session I had him at least sneak me off to the kitchen, so I wouldn''t get caught by mother. Unfortunately, my face was a mess but I am too tired to care.


    It was uncomfortable though so why not hit two birds and multi-task. With this season''s goods, we have both baked and made skincare, my routine specialty. This is good and familiar, yessssssss let''s go back to this.


    No more grampa drama, nooooooo. No more conspiracy shit for today. Give me my break already!


    Autumn is a lovely time for walnuts and there''s still the late zucchini''s from summer but more importantly, we actually have the spices to make zucchini bread. Praise the gods and goddesses of this world, I can have zucchini bread. Ohhh, I can make pumpkin pie! Tis the season for pie! The possibilities are endless!


    Cumin! Vanilla beans! Cloves! Tumeric! Cinnamon! Nutmeg! Cardemon! Even anise seed!


    Oh the haul of spices is just so lovely, I wish to toast, roast, grind and drink them all up! Chai, I can make chai! Bless!


    No. I am not stress cooking and eating, I''m just examining the possibilities. Besides, I deserve this!


    It''s not like it''s impossible to grow or get some of these things here, they''re just far more expensive or elusive. But a good portion of this is quite hard to get locally or unheard of at all. I know Georgey and some of my other chefs had a grand culinary trip.


    Expand your horizons young man!


    I think our land is suitable to grow a portion of these things though. Let''s plan that out better in the future. For now let''s just enjoy my easy zucchini bread and warm spiced lattes, no coffee though. Does coffee exist here? Not that I should be drinking caffeine at my age.


    "Rosa can you please wash that off first?" deadpans Georgey.


    What me? My beauty masks? My puffy sore eyes though!


    Alas, I am lazy, also no one else needs to see these beautifully puffy eyes. No one else needs to see my shame any further than they already have. I don''t need a crybaby reputation.


    "Hmm, how about no? Allow the bread to cool for a bit, has it sunk in the middle at all? I think we made the loafs small enough to avoid that."


    "Yeah, they look good though small. You can see for yourself if you take those vegetable slices off your eyes!"


    "This is called beauty Georgey, try it sometimes! It does wonders for your stress. Oh Abbey, get the pink one in a jar for our Georgey here. That should be good for his acne prone skin!"


    "Yes my lad- er Rosalia!"


    "Why is it so pink!?"


    I can hear him scream, ah Abbey must be scooping that pot now. Yes the rose water and turmeric clay one. I so love all the options I now have with my new ingredients.


    "Shush it''s good for you."


    "What''s wrong with the oatmeal one?!"


    "Variety! Different skin concerns! Potency! You''re getting this for free so don''t complain so much, I''m making you the most naturally beautiful boy in the land."


    "I''m a guy, I don''t need that! Use Abbey, she''s a girl."


    "Eeep! I wouldn''t dare my lady- Rosalia." squeaks the maid, clumsily clattering something in the background.


    "Abbey is younger and has different skin concerns, she''s nowhere near oily as you. " I explain lazily.


    "You.....who calls people oily?! You don''t just- Nevermind. Rather, get back into the kitchen, we''re taking out your new bread."


    I mean it''s not so much free as it is getting used as skincare lab rats. Georgey is my favorite subject for his problematic teenaged skin. Sure he looks good now but that''s because of constant testing. He''s the most supple skinned boy or girl in this entire mansion! I think I even spied mother giving him a curious look at the transformation.


    Shame I have no camera to take before and after pictures of his face. It would have been a great advertisement.


    I hear Georgey make rough breathing noises but waits on me in his own way. He then taps his foot in that impatient way of his.


    "Are you going to get up anytime soon?"''


    I consider this, for I am very comfortable but also very hungry.


    "Carry me!" I compromise.


    "Really now?"


    "Yes I can''t be bothered to move."


    "Well.... if you so command my lady."


    Surprisingly Georgey complies just like that, he''s been more strict around me as of late. Like I''m a petulant little child asking to play and he''s the tired older babysitter. I really should have been more ready when he was being so yielding.


    I shriek when my face is splashed and scrubbed with cold water.


    "Eeeek!"


    "No complaining, it''s good for you. You''re not allowed at the table like that." he mocks, imitating my tone from earlier.


    "Cold! That''s no excuse, that was a shock of cold! How dare yo- oh the bread turned out alright!"


    My little loaves of zucchini bread are ready! They''re quick and easy to make, perfect for a stress eat bing- er I mean snack. As far as my knowledge goes, this may be the very first zucchini bread of this world!


    Welcome to the world my dear sweets.


    As horribly lax and careless my kitchen staff seems to be around me now, they still must await my word before attacking our new creations. It is the unspoken rule that I get first bite of everything, lest I become so displeased I stop giving out recipes and advice.


    Don''t I sound like a vengeful goddess demanding offerings? A true villainess in the making alright. I am still very scary and not at all a crybaby, no not at all.


    Just cut the cake and let me stuff my face in leftover misery in peace. I''m sensitive right now.


    "I smell cinnamon!"


    Ah, it seems we are still holding Amar hostage in our kitchens. Really Georgey? Really? Everyone?! You''re all accomplices. We can''t just keep kidnapped kids!


    Well, the more the merrier I guess.


    This is a serious moment, and as per ceremony, I motion for the first loaf to be sliced. Steam still wafts out and I swear a handful of people swoon. This scent, this sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent overwhelms the room so quickly!


    It''s best when it''s still warm, not too hot but soft and moist.


    It''s such a quick simple recipe, it can''t fail. My happiness depends on you my bread!


    My hands have gotten less sensitive but it still feels uncomfortably hot to hold without a napkin. This isn''t the time for tony tiny forks and knives, it''s time to dig in.


    Puffy, hot and fluffy goodness. Oh sweet cake I have missed thee so.


    It is like I have ascended on a steaming cloud of sugar and spice, an ultra puffy of dense cloud of zucchini bread. This moistness! What a cinnamon vanilla dream!


    "Good?" motions Georgey impatiently, his foot tapping again.


    But I am busy rolling in bliss and munching away. Sweets and carbs are truly the best medicine to a young girl''s heart.


    "Why are there green pieces in there? Is this a common dish?" asks Amar with honest curiosity. A band of chefs and kitchen shakes their head in confusion, in awe and wonder, as they try to explain.


    "It''s vegetables, there are vegetables in the bread!"


    "But it''s sweet, we used apple sauce to stretch the sugar but it''s supposedly sweet!"


    "By the goddess our young miss is insane, green vegetables in sweet loaves of cake. But this smell, who can deny this smell!"


    "She''s either insane or a genius, I don''t care. I just want to taste it already!"


    They can gossip all they want but without my ok no one gets anything. I am very very busy not paying attention right now. Out of spite and my own stress eating, I am not hearing anything but the sound of my happy munching.


    This is for dunking me in cold water Georgey. At least my eyes aren''t as red anymore.


    "Oh that''s funny, huh. Is it very tasty?"


    I am too busy to respond to anyone, not even innocent parties. Besides, it appears that I need to discipline my staff better and what is a better punishment then watching me eat?


    Amar seems to consider my silence before coming up with his own solution.


    "If we trade you something then do we get to try?"


    Eh, that warrants a shrug. A maybe depends on the trade. I don''t know what my own staff can trade me though.


    What are they going to do? Wave around more salad dressing?


    It''s my kitchen, or well my family''s. Same thing while I''m still here as the eldest young miss. I know everything they make here because everyone is always making me taste things for approval.


    There''s a ruckus as people start basically foraging the kitchens for an acceptable offering. It''s like a bad scavenger hunt, how amusing.


    Wow way to make me feel like a vengeful goddess. This is my real power, holding baked goods over people.


    Of course, nothing they pull out can interest me. It''s nothing I can''t make better myself given enough time and it''s not like I''m particularly craving anything right now. Why don''t these people understand a young girl''s heart? Nothing but sweets shall do. I''m perfectly comfortable with my cake-like bread and spiced warm milk.


    "Rosalia pleeease, oh god I''m sorry about dunking you in well water.... I''ll never do it again pleeease." begs my rebellious junior chef.


    I don''t believe him, Georgey is a two-faced lair towards food. They all are.


    While their pleas and cries are very pleasant to my ears, especially Georgie, nothing can make me part with my beloved. I''m very stubborn when I want to be you know?


    At the silent treatment and overwhelmingly delicious smell, something in Georgie seems to snap and darken. The allure of forbidden vegetable sweets right in front of him, leading him to the point of threatening a child.


    Not me of course.


    "Amar....I know you stashed away some sweets. Go get them!"


    "Eh?!" yelps the boy in question, eyes wide.


    "Bring her the goods or none of us get this bread before it cools down."


    "Oh.....but I only have so many."


    "Get them and we will feed you so much. Please you''re our only hope!"


    They''ve turned into a mob of pathetic beggers and whiners. Is this truly the well-respected staff of the Ventrella household. Alfonso, do something about their discipline!


    With this much people begging, the boy relents and hops away, quick as ever.


    When he ninjas his way back, pouting the whole time, I completely understand. Anyone who dares threaten my sweets would meet with a swift temper tantrum.


    I really don''t know what he could trade me that would be equivalent in value enough to part with my fresh baked cake though. How old are these sweets? Did he pack them from when he was still over at the raid site? That doesn''t sound very appetizing.


    I''m not expecting anything but I''ll play along. It''s just a plain wax paper package though, what''s in there? Cookies? Old cookies aren''t going to be worth in trade in for-


    What?....Is that? It can''t be!


    Sesame seeds!


    My lord those cookies are covered in toasted sesame seeds of various shades! Where did - oh my god there are sesame seeds in this world!?! And black ones too! Never in all of Rosalia''s memories did she see sesame seeds. I thought I would never see, smell nor taste that once familiar and common ingredient again!


    The memory of the addictive aroma of sesame prompts my mouth waters all by itself.


    And the green ones! Pistachios! Those must be pistachios! I knew those existed here but they''re not local nor popular here. There were none to be seen in the markets!


    They must be mine.


    "Hand them over."


    "...Okay but you have feed everyone. They get scary when they''re hungry."


    I readily nod. As reluctant as he was, the boy still willing shares his no longer secret stash. Something tells me he has more hidden away somewhere, smart.


    The crowd of cheers and dives in, slicing and sharing the loafs of still warm zucchini bread between them. Their praises ring through the room, no one paying any further attention to me now that they got what they want.


    "Amazing!"


    "Is there really vegetables in this! I can''t taste it at all."


    "I can''t- what is this taste? This aroma?!"


    "I have died and gone to heaven."


    "Alchemy, this is truly alchemy!"


    My recipe is a hit, as I knew it would be. But I can''t find it in me to be pleased with their reactions. Not when I can smell sesame even at a distance away.


    "Cookies. Now."


    It''s like children trading candy on Halloween, a dealing standoff. Amar looks like he isn''t making a good deal for himself. But his shoulders drop and he relents quickly.


    "I was going to share anyways, do you feel better now?"


    "Yeah I''m fine, thank you. Sorry for scaring everyone. I was just too sleepy and took a nap."


    "A surprise nap? Right at the pigs?"


    "Yes, a nap!"


    That is the story we are using. I did not faint in the middle of the day, I merely took a sudden nap. I''m two ok, it''s believable.


    "If you say so."


    So the kid isn''t dumb enough to buy it, but he shrugs and leaves it, stealing a whole loaf of the bread to chomp down on. They''re not very big so it''s no biggie, I already finished one myself.


    "Oh that''s it?" my youngest taste tester remarks.


    Huh? What''s with that lack luster reaction?


    "Oh it''s tasty! Don''t be sad, it''s still very yummy and soft."


    "....I''m not sad, it''s okay if you don''t like it."


    "It''s very fluffy! But still feels heavy in your mouth! The softness makes it easy to eat! "


    "....."


    "I like anything with cinnamon, really it''s good. It''s sweet."


    "But not that delicious," I conclude from his words and expression.


    "It''s yummy but, not...that yummy?"


    Amar tentatively shrugs, looking down regretfully as his traded pack of cookies. I wave him off, grabbing a hard sesame covered cookie. So you can''t win them all, zucchini bread isn''t for everyone. For the most part, every one of my staff seems to like it so that''s more than good enough for me.


    Until I snap a piece of cookie in my mouth.


    Oh my god.... what fools we all are.


    They''re not stale at all, rather the crispy outer shell of toasted sesame invades my nose and gives way to a perfectly light honey butter cookie, complete with a subtle grip of roasted cinnamon vanilla.


    The aroma of my zucchini bread is but an overwhelmingly cheap farce in comparison to these addictive cookies. Mass quantity over actual quality. But the dough, what is this perfectly crispy dough!? Even pita chips cannot compare in this snap!


    "These are horrible!" I shout, stuffing two into my mouth at once and grabbing another. "No one mppff eat these! They''re that bad!"


    Then there are the pistachio cookies that surprisingly taste of cherries! It''s the sweet nutty pistachio along with herbs and spices that I don''t recognize, zapping my tastebuds awake. Orange bloosons? Syrup? What is this sweetness? They don''t have the addictive quality of the thin sesame cookies but they pack a such potent punch that has me sweating.


    We are but lowly peasants in terms of spices and seasoning. I nearly cry as I chomp down on another.


    "They''re really bad right?" smiles the cookie smuggler knowingly.


    "Mmpppf!!!"


    He takes a cookie and I feel pangs of regret at their limited numbers. But I can''t offend the source dealer. The brat is hiding more I just know it.


    I concede! I admit defeat in the battle of sweets! All hail the secret stash!


    ---


    --------


    Bonus short (At this the same time- more grampa):


    --------


    ---


    "Gable how long do I have to keep this up?" asks the small boy at the kitchen table.


    "Until either Ronald gets the damn hell up or you freeze his face off, whatever comes first." replied the blond mage, using a single finger to stir 5 different cauldrons and pots at different speeds but all at once, with magic of course.


    Invading the table was a large lump in the shape of a man, his head completely face down in a bowl of something putty like and cooling.


    "So cool, will I get to learn how to not need to breathe like that soon?" asked Lukas while lightly chilling the bowl.


    That was the challenge, to keep using his ice magic in such a controlled manner for a long period of time. It was much harder for the boy to not instantly freeze something.


    "Oh that''s not a magical technique, that''s just Ronald," commented Gable, pulling up a chair.


    "So cool!" awed Lukas, tongue sticking out as he carefully tried to keep in control.


    He''s been going at it for almost an hour now. It was him against the endurance of great hero Ronald, he would win this strange challenge!


    "Imdfsdfbreffinnn."


    "Try that again Ron? In human this time preferably."


    "I said I''m breathing, I just got a lot of things in my eyes."


    "Uh huh, wonderful job on washing those things out. Will you get out of my good bowl now?"


    "Mmmmppffffno buu nuu nnne"


    "I''ll take that as a no."


    Gable shook his head, Ronald never changed after all these years. Just as childish and ridiculous in too many ways. Sometimes he doesn''t know who''s the more immature one, Lukas or Ronald. At least his nephew he can still try to raise into better shape. It was far too late for Ronald, who was immune to his complaints.


    "Lukas feel free to let go and freeze his head any time now. I won''t get mad."


    "A true hero does not back down from a challenge!" replied the boy, fully determined.


    Besides, commander Ronald promised he would get what he''s been asking for weeks now if he won!


    *sigh* "I hate how much you quote him. See what you''ve done Ronald, you''re ruining the innocent next generation."


    "Nnnpf, wub uuu too." came the blob from Gable''s favorite bowl. Great, now he would need to soak and clean that bowl to disinfect it from human faces.


    "Gable is Rosalia really that scary and powerful to battle commander down like this!?" Lukas asked, still over-talkative even while feeling the strain in his arms.


    It felt like slowly pouring water from a heavy container, he had to keep pouring steadily and not let it drop, even if he wanted to. His guardian leaned back on the chair, massaging his forehead.


    ".....is that what he told you now?"


    "It was a harsh fight! One of the hardest he''s ever faced! She even made him cry! But I think commander is just being weird because it''s Rosalia. If it was for the twins I''m pretty sure he would lose every fight on purpose, and Lilyanne can''t even swing right."


    "Yes that''s true, I''m pretty sure he would let his granddaughters beat him up into a pulp."


    "Mmmmpfff uuuu tuuu."


    "In human please Ronald, I don''t speak bowl."


    The named man finally lifts himself fully out, goops of purple mush still clinging to his eyelashes and nose.


    "I said I''d let you beat me too if you wanted."


    "I can do that even without you letting me, now put your head back in there if you''re going to speak nonsense."


    Ronald laughingly resists the hand half trying to push his head down. Sheesh, get out of the bowl, get into the bowl. Gable can be so indecisive at times.


    "Naaaah, I think I''m good now."


    "Are you now? Are you really?"


    Ronald takes the not really offending hand out his hair and laces their hands together, holding it sure and tight.


    "No, I''m not. But it will be alright. We''re going to make this alright."


    Gable raises a slim eyebrow to that, whether he knew how much that implied no one but the man himself could guess. But he was proud none the less, even if he didn''t show it very obviously.


    "Good...Not bad for a coward."


    "Ahhh you wound me so Gabe."


    "Lukas, ice him, this time for real."


    The little boy jumps in his seat instead, barely able to contain himself. If he''s not careful he might make it snow in the kitchen again and his Gable was very clear about the repercussions for that. Clean up all by himself, extra drills and tending to the chickens again. Gods did Lukas hate the chickens, he rather take the on goat.


    "So I won right?! I won the challenge!?"


    "Yeah boyo, I suppose you did! Good job!" the older muscular man makes to affectionately ruffle the excited boy''s hair, turning pale fluff into clouds. Lukas beams, at the affection from his idol now a familiar presence in his life. To think his world would change so much in this short couple of months.


    The little boy''s grin has always been far too wide but these days it''s genuine and from the heart.


    .


    "...what did you promise him?" grumbled Gable sternly, he had a bad feeling about this.


    "Well Lukas been asking for a reeeeeaaaaallly long time now aaannnnd-"


    "WE''RE GOING FISHING!!! And Amar and Rosa can come too! I won and you promised and it''s my birthday soon and I won soooo we get to go!" cheered Lukas, chest puffed up like a pleased cat.


    "You what!?!" growls Gable at the other man.


    "Please please please please, I did really well to behave please please please I even read books and practiced all my writings please please pleeeeeease."


    "Yeah Gabe, pleeeease. You only turn 6 once, and it''s his first birthday with us."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    As much as he wanted to, as much as he glared with all his will, Gable can''t really say no to them and their pleading faces.


    He just can''t.


    -----

 69 Old Gossip- Still Relevan

    I''m being punished.


    I''m being confined.


    I''ve been grounded and I can''t escape.


    Again!


    I know it''s really no big deal to ground a toddler. Most of them don''t do anything and really shouldn''t be out. For example my lovely little Lilyanne.


    But this is me we''re talking about.


    Apparently it''s not punishment enough to leave me alone on my own. The possibility of me sneaking out is too high, if not absolutely expected.


    How dare they figure me out so quickly before I can even act? What happened to the ''ignore Rosalia'' part of this sad act?


    Oh yeah, me. I messed that up already.


    It''s not like any of the maids can ever catch me and Ms. Gerta is too busy to bother with me. I''m doomed if she catches me though, I still recall the ear pulling. As long as I can avoid Ms. Gerta I''m in the safe.


    The rest of the staff are too used to seeing me around. They won''t stop me, not really. Not if they want to keep using soap or have new additions to their daily meals. Aren''t I just absolutely deplorable? Absolutely evil.


    Well, our head butler Alfonso hasn''t stopped me yet so obviously I must be allowed this much leverage power. I don''t think I''m anywhere near the original goods level of spoiled but let''s not get anywhere near that point.


    It''s odd though, I consider myself very well behaved. Much more so than the original goods. Yet she was never called spoiled by her family, well actually I don''t think she was ever bothered with.


    I, however, due to messing with the timeline, get chidings and head shakes.


    Right now I''m in the jaws of the big boss, mother. I may be able to sneak through rafters and occasionally parts of the walls but this mansion is her domain. If mother says I''m grounded then I am grounded, locked away in her parlor.


    "Darling spoils our eldest far too much! I thought papa would do something when he said he would talk with her but I fear he''s just encouraging her. Yes, it''s far too dangerous whenever they''re together."


    "But Lord Frederick-"


    "Is a fool, a terribly handsome fool and he knows what he''s done! I will not have him step foot near my parlor!"


    "But my lady you were so anxious for his return and-"


    "And nothing! Not a foot! Or whisper from him! Why should I allow him to see me and my children when he''s always running off...from me....yes not a strand of his hair is to be seen of him. That''s fair."


    To the maids and immediate guards, mother has instructed me on lockdown. I am grounded! the oddest part is that I''m not allowed to see father at this time? Or rather father isn''t allowed to see us.


    Grampa is also in the gray zone.


    Apparently they also spoil me? When did that ever happen? More like torture me!


    Grampa is too obvious and I''m still growing out my red chicken hair from father. Aren''t they just big weird bullies? The tools I commission for father to design and produce are but small compensation for my emotional pain and suffering. So what if I get distracted by him farm nerding or wheel making, it''s productive to my plans. And give the poor sap a break with the occasional bar visit, man his age never visited a tavern till this year. Do more research for me!


    But them "spoiling" makes me dangerous?


    Whatever is that supposed to mean?!


    So thus it is boring solitary confinement time. No father to pester into creating stuff, no kitchen nightmares to conduct, not even a wild grampa to entertain me. No, actually grandpa committed an even worse sin!


    He stole my cookie dealer.


    Just showed up out of nowhere, grabbed Amar by his tiny waist and hopped away going.


    "This one first, number one down!".


    Just what?


    Grampa can we not be vaguely kidnapping people? Children? With no explanation! I know I said we should return the kid but that was before the cookies. I haven''t figured out where he hid his stuff yet! What if he took it with him!?!


    The boy was also hiding Turkish delights! He has gel candy! Who knows what else I could have squeezed out of him!?!


    Hey hey hey what do you people use in place of corn starch? We don''t have corn here! What is it?! How do I make my own gummy candies? Sugar is expensive, what sweeteners were used in these godly sweet things? I haven''t gotten pistachio or sesame seeds from him yet how am I suppose to start my supply farm? What else did you bring back!?!


    And now I won''t get to know because I''ve been grounded and locked away. I can''t hunt down and interrogate anyone when I''m the prisoner.


    "Rosalia dear I truly don''t understand why you insist on using the word ''grounded''. Where does it come from in your little head? "


    Mother looks at me concernedly from her place on the couch. It''s a pretty thing, with it''s curved legs and floral patterns, but needs a great deal more cushions and pillows to be comfortable.


    Thus I have taken the liberty of gathering every pillow I could find to make myself a pillow fort.


    I am a child now ok. I am allowed this much.


    "Rosa gwonded!"


    "Yes Lilyanne, I am grounded. This is my jail and I must stay in here until my sentence is up!"


    Lilyanne does not understand a word I say but her happy clapping is a lovely response none the less. She is still now allowed in here lest she destroys my fort. It''s actually a lot of effort to balance these shitty pillows.


    "Where do you learn such odd things if not from Papa or darling? Well I suppose it''s also my fault for allowing it. " chides mother.


    So essentially my nondesirable personality is being blamed on grampa and father for being bad influences? I can live with that for now. It''s not like she''s wrong, they are pretty awful adult figures.


    Speaking of father though...


    "Mother? Did you receive the souvenirs father brought back for you yet?"


    "Souvenirs?"


    "You know, the gifts! Father and I spent a long time thinking of them for you!"


    "....Did you mean Rosalia darling...this lovely...basket...of vegetables?"


    "...eh?"


    Despite her tone, mother must appreciate the token of affection to some extent because she has it placed on a column like one would place a vase of flowers. It really is a well-loaded basket of autumn vegetables, full of color and deliciousness. I would love it if someone gave me something like that.


    But mother is obviously not me and I swear I told father that. Most women like flowers and pretty shit. Besides, this isn''t what we discussed!?! I specifically said to give her something pretty and sentimental!


    "Um....we...picked each and every plant? At least father did....he also....washed them himself?"


    "....I see."


    Does that help? Or make it more romantic? It''s the sentiment that counts right?


    Oh forget it we''re screwed, father has failed at romancing mother into forgiving me. Hell he needs all the luck to save himself.


    Vegetables!?


    No sane man gives his wife a bouquet of vegetables, though it is quite practical and lovely in my personal book. Look at those dark leaves, and the gourds are wonderful this time of year, and the detail on those tied nuts. But we''re not wooing me now are we?!?


    Damn that nerd of a father! His only good attacks towards mother are in his appearance but that''s useless when he''s been banned! How did mother, with her pick of suitors, ever marry this sort of strange man in the first place?


    Wait... will that sort of topic distract her? Maybe if I''m lucky I can redirect her ''anger'' towards father enough to distract my next rounds of escape.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Mother, I''m very sorry father was too inconsiderate of you. He didn''t mean anything bad but you know how he is- actually...''mama''?"


    Yes, I''m using that attack. It somewhat works in softening mother but her guard is still up.


    "Yes Rosa dear."


    "Mama how did you and father get together in the first place?"


    "Mama an Papa?! Wuv Papa n Mama!"


    Our combined voices has mother rising to a blush. Yes isn''t that a precious moment, the first time your children ask for your love story! Seriously though, they''re such a stupidly lovely dovey couple, even when she''s mad at him.


    Can''t deny I''m kinda curious how it works.


    "You must have had a lot of men who wanted to marry you~ People who would bring you flowers over vegetables. Why our papa?" I tease.


    Certainly, it must take true love, or a very specific fetish for red headed nerds, for a lady like mother to be in so deep for father. Look how she blushes like a maiden that never gave birth to two children. To be fair he looks very dashing most days, but that rude mouth of his!


    How did a lameo rich boy woo the seduce the Maria Ventrella, who was likely the most desirable woman of her time?


    "Wuv papa?" repeats Lilyanne, already swooning in her diapers. Ah little girls and their romance stories.


    "Oh, of course, I love your papa, he''s....well I wouldn''t choose anyone really. Wouldn''t want anyone else."


    "Even if they bring you flowers or jewels like they''re supposed to?"


    "Yes...yes my sweet, even if they brought me all the pretty flowers, dresses or jewels. They''re empty...as pretty as they are they mean nothing beyond their initial beauty. Besides I can get those easily on my own."


    That you can mother, for I have seen your shopping habits. How dare a man to assume to get you something when your tastes are already top of the line. Father never had a chance.


    "But then how did father win?"


    "...He didn''t win anything my dear."


    "But how did he win your hand in marriage then? If no one could woo you with gifts, how did you choose him? Don''t tell me it really was vegetables that got you?"


    Mother goes mute, and possibly redder than father''s auburn hair has ever been. What''s there to be shy of? You already made two kids together, given they were born at the same time.


    Wam bam done, no need to be such a blushing maiden after all this time. You''ve been married for quite a while by now no?


    "I...I didn''t....you don''t....my dear little birds, you don''t get to choose who you fall in love with. You can make all the lists and check them off but, it''s the heart that wants what it wants."


    "Oh so you didn''t want father?"


    Wow won''t he be devasted to hear that? Can''t wait to tell him. It''s going to make a hilarious face. Take that as my revenge father! Of course, I''m not worried about their marriage being impacted, they''re already gross enough as it is.


    "Of course I wanted your father, you all wouldn''t be here if I didn''t." mother chuckles wryly.


    She looks at Lilyanne and I fondly, like how one would look at their dear children. Which we are, or at least Lilyanne is. When she pats both of our hair she sighs in a self-satisfied manner, a little dreamily and a lot like a contented cat.


    "Your papa didn''t win anything, I did. I won the best prize and now I get to live my life here, with my beloveds."


    "Mama win... papa?" repeats Lilyanne slowly, as if comprehending something new.


    "Mmmm out of everyone else I saw your papa, really saw him, and wanted only him. Only him. As if the word was dull and only he was in color. And out of everyone else, I beat them to your papa''s heart. It wasn''t exactly easy but the rest is history, we got married and now are living happily ever after."


    Lilyanne giggles and coos at how prettily mother beams, like a blooming flower. Sweet but I''m getting goosebumps at the rosy atmosphere.


    "But why would you want ...him?" I grimace.


    If I put myself in mother''s shoes, his only good visible good points are his looks and his well-established family background, maybe his work competency.


    Ok a lot his work competency, a deadbeat man is a no good man. I''m pretty sure he''s back in court today after being scolded and banned by mother. Get that paperwork pile done!


    Mother wiggles my nose in an annoying but not painful way that gets me pouting.


    "Don''t be so mean about your papa. Oh dear, this may be why he''s so fond- you''re exactly the same in how you speak."


    "Ewww I do not!"


    "Did Lilyanne get these eyebrows? Lily dear can you scrunch up your face real quick? Copy your sister''s funny face dear, just so mama can see."


    I huff and puff in silence as Lilyanne giggles and laughs cutely. Even when she makes a funny attempt at an angry face it''s super cute. For one, I do not scrunch my face! And two, we''re identical but there''s no way Lilyanne resembles our gross father. She''s a little angel!


    Thus I do not know what mother is talking about. Lilyanne doesn''t have father''s eyebrows but I supposedly do? We''re identical! Except maybe our hair but I can fix that....over time. Give me a winter okay?


    What a strange and delusional woman, well it can''t be helped when you''re directly related to grampa.


    Mother sighs with a sweet smile, as if she''s used to this, as she smooths out my not at all scrunched up forehead.


    "Your papa isn''t so bad...he''s not very good at sincere words...and he''s not the smoothest of gentlemen...but he''s real. He''s a real genuine person... He loves what he does and actually takes the steps, and work, towards what he wants. Doesn''t complain...even when he should. He works terribly hard, even if he isn''t noticed for it. He''s awfully kind, so much so that when you realize it, it''s such a shocking gap from his words that you feel like falling over...."


    Okay that''s enough, reaaaaally now mother that''s enough. I get it already. You somehow love him faults and all. Geez talk about being a gross couple.


    I mean good for them, yay for romance and marriage for love, we need more of that in the world. But I''m literally seeing hearts and roses bloom out of nowhere and I''m not the right sort of person to enjoy this. Maybe the awed silent Lilyanne.


    Father take me back to the drawing room or the farms, anything! We can even talk about beans and butter! This is too gross for me!


    "And he likes me...from before darling actually liked me for me. How could I not want such a lovely fool? How could I leave him to be snatched by another woman who wouldn''t see or appreciate all his kindness and wonderful little traits behind it all? Such a foolish boy, if I didn''t snatch him up he would have obediently married whoever that awful hag arranged for him."


    "Wait wait wait, father had an arranged marriage!?! Really?!"


    "Weawy?!"


    "And you stole him away? Oh that''s gooooood."


    "Mama stowe papa? wuv?"


    "Yeaaaah, she loved papa so much she stoooooole him. Ohohoho how juicy."


    "Heehee~"


    Our giggles resound in the parlor room and mother can only blush in the truth she just has spoken out.


    I didn''t really expect such a thing from my lady like mother but I can actually see that. She''s vicious enough when she wants to be. So father is the one that got swept off his feet huh? Interesting.


    Oh well, lucky guy. Wonder what good merits he gathered in the last life to score Maria Ventrella?


    "Oh I do so hate arranged marriages, I hope your father knows what he''s doing by setting up a business one for you. They rarely end well, even with all his terms and conditions set up."


    "Don''t worry mama, it will end well for me! I just won''t get married!"


    "Well if you say so dear, don''t let the other side hear that sort of talk. Oh you''re far too young to even have to be thinking of these things....but you are like your papa so."


    "Rosa wik papa!"


    "Lily take that back, no bad. Bad thinking. I am not like him in any way at all. Anyways mama, back to you~ If you worked so hard to steal father, why are you so mad at him now?"


    You can''t just bring a dog home and then leave it there, that''s not how it works. You can ignore the pitiful puppy all you like but once you actually pick up the dog you actually have to commit yourself to it. Given I don''t think marriage is actually like raising a dog but hey, I died single.


    What do I know?


    Nothing. I don''t know anything about relationships or love, in any of my lifetimes. Maybe I got teased a bit as my other self but really I got nothing.


    So maybe I''m enjoying the relationship gossip with mother, just a little. Guess I still have a maiden''s heart after all. Darn, I was hoping it had hardened into a splendid badass by now. Well, I can still do that too.


    Even when mother looks mad, she still looks lovely. Actually, at this point, she doesn''t look all that mad, more hot air than anything. Actually she even looks a little, shall I say, sad and downtrodden.


    "Because...your father knows how much I don''t like being left behind...and he''s been doing it quite often lately. He of all people knows."


    ".....Huh? What?"


    I''m at a lost here, mother doesn''t like being left behind? That''s weird, given that she''s the one who insists on staying back.


    "But father was busy lately with the farm and village improvements. They''re really good plans. He''s even building a bridge and improving the connecting roads to promote travel to the aging villages. And he still had to do his court work."


    "I know! I know darling is busy and he''s doing great and important work to helps so many people!"


    "...."


    Lilyanne and I both look on confusedly. If she knows then why complain? She could always go with him if she''s so upset about being separated.


    "I know....I know it''s selfish, selfish to want him to choose me."


    "...What?"


    "In the future....you will understand. Oh I hope you girls won''t have to understand, won''t have to be put into the situation where you will learn to understand. It would be best if you only had to be beautiful little fools."


    ....Now what is that supposed to mean? I may like to joke but I am no fool. Maybe Lilyanne?


    Wait wait no we let her stay naively foolish the last time and that turned out awful, how about no. Let''s raise a wise little girl who can think for themselves please, oh please. I don''t think I can juggle everything and look out for a foolish Lilyanne 24/7. She''s vulnerable enough as it is!


    "That''s silly mother, of course he''s already chosen you. You''re already married."


    "...I hope you never have to understand this feeling my sweet. To never want so badly for someone to choose you, to fight for you. It''s an awfully deep pit to fall in."


    "How silly."


    "Yes, yes my Rosa, it is very silly."


    She holds my sister and I close and somehow her breasts don''t suffocate me this time.


    Her thinking really is silly, of course I know what that feels like. I''m Rosalia, the ghost girl. The only difference between mother''s line of thought and mine is that I''ve already given up long ago. No one will choose me. Not even if Lilyanne wasn''t in the picture.


    So I have to choose myself, again and again. I have to work towards the life and safety I want. That''s enough. I''m enough. Silly past Rosalia, she just had to love and choose herself once in a while instead of sacrificing all of herself till she had nothing left.


    Mama is the one who doesn''t understand. She has all this love and always has, she even has a pretty dumb nerd still gaga over her.


    "Father has always chosen you, I don''t get it. Even if the vegetables look lame, he really did pick them all out carefully and saves the best ones for you. Did you know he got dirt under his nails? He was so excited over showing you each thing he picked, it''s really dumb....but sweet I guess."


    They''re not pretty bouquets or sparkingly jewels but, he really does care. Maybe I''m just an inexperienced sap but, doesn''t something simple but chosen with heart mean more? Eh but I''m a weirdo who actually likes vegetables, what do I know?


    "Yes, yes I suppose he did."


    Mother chuckles softly, her eyes showing a new appreciation over the vegetable basket. As she should, these are fine specimens.


    Perhaps I can now turn things around. Woo mother on father''s behalf. These veggies just need some better PR, a little more descriptions...okay a lot. Sure this would be easier with flowers but I can work with what we built up so far.


    And by that I mean I will just throw father under the bus, just straight out embarrass him. Mother likes those kind of stories right? I sure do.


    "Father threatened the local wildlife for those acorns, said it was for his wife."


    "Oh dear how gallant."


    "And he slipped and fell on some ice gathering the silver beets, just slid right out of the field."


    "Oh that''s darling, Frederick skates so wonderfully."


    "...father failed to run away over three times from the pumpkin patch and then sacrificed me to a great food fight that resulted in a lot dead birds."


    "Yes, he always does have a back up plan for his back up plans. It''s very foxy of him, how cute! Is that why he calls you pumpkin in addition now?"


    "...."


    Guess what they say is true, love is blind.


    "Pumkin! pummmkkkkin!" claps Lilyanne, reaching for the strangely colored squash.


    "....well at least Lilyanne likes it."


    Go Lilyanne, your turn to convince mother. Use your natural cuteness!


    It prompts mother to get up and bring over the vegetable bundle for Lilyanne to grasp and play with.


    "I like it just fine if it''s something darling has given me. Even if I don''t I''ll just have to- I made that poor fool marry me after all." mother chuckles a little self depreciatingly, watching as Lilyanne rolls and pats squash.


    "Puuupkin!"


    "Oh my Lilyanne, be careful my sweet."


    But it''s too late, and my baby sister had toddler style bulldozed the basket, tipping it over and spilling a few of the items out. What a mess! Squash isn''t really meant to be squashed! Not till they''re in the kitchens.


    But then something delicately pink and very not vegetably catches my eye.


    "Huh...mother what''s that?" I make to point.


    After making sure Lilyanne was unharmed and sufficiently squash free did mother gingerly take a handkerchief to fish up a small slim delicately wrapped thing.


    "Oh that fox! That''s just like him!" she exclaims, not really sounding all that angry.


    A present inside that basket! Yes! Yes! Father don''t fail me now! It is very small though, maybe I shouldn''t get my hopes up too high for that nerd.


    The waxy pink paper crinkles a bt as it unfolds. Out comes a letter, or two, along with a delicate wooden comb.


    It''s obviously the comb that catches our attention first. The wood was a dark mahogany color and obviously well oiled and shined, but it was the bouquet of carvings that adorned it that truly made the wood stand out. What a beautiful thing!


    Yes this is such a sentimental vanity item that would please mother!


    However...the swirling circular style of the carving is awfully familar....and as I look closer, the teeth of the comb aren''t as professionally even as it could be. Oh no don''t tell me....


    That damn sappy nerd.


    Oh please tell me it worked because I feel queasy just thinking about this sap.


    If I thought that was bad, the letter that unfolds from mother''s hand, breaking father''s usual wax seal is even worse.


    It''s awful- oh god the letter. It''s so cheesy I''m dying and I''m not even lactose intolerant! Did that shitty nerd really write this?!? Pictures! Oh god he included hand drawn illustrations?! Is that sunset? The building bridge...and flowers? Wait...is that... is that me dying by pumpkin tossing?!


    But the contents, the words- oh ew ew ew.


    I''m choking out of sheer cringe- get this gross couple away from me! They''re too fluffy Imma die!


    But it causes tears to well up and drip down mother''s lovely face. She stretches her hands up, far away as if her tears would stain the paper that the letters were written on.


    "Oh Frederick- oh no what do I do? Oh no- I have to fix this, I have to see him! Immediately! But but-the girls, oh but-and he''s not even here! Oh Frederick darling I''m sorry!"


    Mother looks frantically around, back and forth, her teary eyes looking around and then between Lilyanne and I, debating on her options.


    Blessed be Lilyanne, for ignorance is bliss. Girl can''t read, literacy and comprehension is my curse.


    I''m still dry heaving from the diabetic grossness. No one needs to see their parents be so lovey dovey, no one. Especially not in letter form.


    Oh my god what is father? A Jr. High student?!? Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?! What''s with this shit!? This isn''t the nerd I know!


    In the mess that was it all, a miracle occurs. A miracle appears to save us, to save me.


    "How about I take the girls, just for a bit? How does that sound buttercup?"


    "Oh Gable! My dear blessed angel Gableeee! Gabey I messed it all up again- Frederick darling must be oh so terribly hurt by me all this time! Gaaaabey, I''m so sorrrrrrrry" sobs mother, running head first in the arms of my savior, standing perfect and almost glowing as ever.


    "It''s alright Maria, this isn''t so serious. Nothing at all. It''s not love or marriage without a few spats here and there- it shows you still care."


    "Gaaaabbbeeey, Freeeedddddieee, Frederick *hic* tries so hard and *hic* and I *hic* I was selfish again and did the thing I said I wouldn''t. I took *hic* my sweet darrrrllling for granted! *sob sob sob*."


    "There there buttercup, you''re only human. What''s important is what you do after you figure out your mistakes. Besides, that awful boy made you feel lonely now didn''t he?"


    "Noooooo I did it myself *sob sob* I said *hic* I would tell him *hic* and not hold back *hic* like with papa waaaahhhh *hic* and now I''ve hurt him!"


    "And so would we, if he ever hurt you. To which he did but I suppose this time, I won''t tell your papa- it seems like it was a mutual misunderstanding between you two."


    "Gaaaabey why *hic* do I always messss up! WHy do I always huuuurt others."


    "Shhhhh because that''s what people do, they hurt each other even when they don''t mean to. Even when they love one other with all they have, because then it hurts even more, when you care."


    "I''m sooooooorrrwwwwwyyyyyy *hic hic*."


    Hey hey hey why does the grown woman get to be cradled in his strong arms and soothed with sweet comforts? I think I need it more after what I''ve been forced to put up with. Mother! Share Gable!


    It''s not at all suspicious how he just suddenly appeared out of nowhere at the right moment that mother needs a babysitter. But here he is, funny right?


    "It''s not me you should be apologizing to buttersweet, go to him. Go to your husband, you''re not to wait and moan till nightfall for his return. That''s not my Maria. "


    "But-"


    "Leave the girls to me, they''ll be in just fine in my care. "


    With that mother''s tears halt, and a determined set to her eyes and chin takes place. She nods, scooping us up from the floor and hands us over gently to Gables waiting arms.


    Finally!


    "My sweets, be good for Gable now yes. Don''t cause him any trouble Rosa, don''t worry or cry Lily, mama will fix things up with papa very soon!"


    "We''ll be fine buttercup- go now, while you still can."


    Even with armfuls of two toddlers, he manages to smoothly press his head down against mother''s, easily accepting her wet cheek and forehead kisses.


    "Yes! Yes oh thank you Gabbey dear, Gable my star, my light and guide, thank you~ GUARDS! BRING ME DAMASK. WE SET RIDE NOW!!!"


    And as seemingly quick as Gable magically appeared, mother runs off, taking the hand-carved comb and sappy letter with her.


    Well that was....dramatic. I''m pretty sure father was coming home tonight after court anyways? What''s the rush?


    Ah that was too tiring of an encounter. At least I''ve escaped mother in the best way possible! With Gable! I''m so happy to sigh with relief and lean back that I don''t even question it when he mutters to himself.


    "Number two done, good to go."


    ------

 70 Remember to pick up milk

    While I''m very glad to see Gable again I wasn''t exactly expecting this.


    Don''t get me wrong, I love Gable''s place. His secret hobbit home deep in the woods is a magical sanctuary, both literally and figuratively. It''s a place I would have grown to love if I didn''t already, charming in its simplicity and secrets.


    It''s a wonderful place.


    But I just don''t....like...the chickens.


    They''re not really chickens. They lay eggs and all but they''re essentially little raptors.


    No one likes the damn ''chickens'' okay!


    So here I am, running around gathering the second round of eggs aka running for my life. Those chicken are vicious! They definitely need to be whacked more than a couple of times if I have any chance of escaping with all my ligaments and veins intact. At least they seem tired out already, not as vicious in chasing me down. Someone else obviously got the first round of eggs.


    "Why don''t you have normal chickens?!"


    I pant as I enter through the not so secret to me porthole window to the kitchen. It''s not visible from the outside but those inside have a perfect view.


    No way am I risking going through the door properly when I can fit through this just fine. Not wasting those precious minutes running and hitting some tiny dinosaurs. What if they get me? Again?!


    Gable shrugs from whatever he was working on, looking more like an Elfen witch than a man in his own kitchen. Like I really wasn''t just forced to run and fight for my little delicate life to get him some eggs.


    "Those are normal chickens. It''s the newer domesticated breeds that are strange."


    "You mean ones that don''t have as many teeth? Or attack instincts?"


    "They''re good at egg-laying. Not for eating. " he answers as if that was all that anyone needed to defend raising tiny dinosaurs.


    Not like I was ever going to argue against Gable in the first place.


    I''m from a different world with less ....lethal....farm animals. Obviously I have some skewed standards.


    Somehow, sometime in between arriving and setting me to work with chores, a baby high chair had magically appeared. Lilyanne sat snug as a bug in it, gleefully clapping at anything that floated by.


    Wow what a difference in treatment!


    "Would you prefer to be in a high chair yourself Rosalia?" questioned Gable without even looking over his shoulder. Yet he still sees me staring.


    "No thank you, I''m ok with the chickens. Well not those chickens, you know what I mean."


    Please don''t imprison me like a baby. I was just looking.


    "Funny how all you young ones seem to hate egg duty the most. "


    That''s because the eggs are laid and guarded by literal dinosaurs. Little fat raptors with feathers. I recall quite a few calls from Gable that featured Lukas either screaming feathery murder or recovering from said egg duty. Once I received another side- Gable care package with nothing but a feather inside, I assumed Lukas was dead and eaten.


    See he may be bigger, older and faster but I have a magic bag to my advantage. I''m pretty sure his only allocated weapon is the egg gathering basket.


    It''s good....agility training I suppose?


    That''s what grampa would say.


    Speaking of which, where is that kid?


    I haven''t heard even an echo of his megaphone decibel voice since I got here. Now that''s saying something.


    It''s interesting though, how this place has obviously changed in so many little ways. On the first impression, it''s exactly the same, still the Hobbit home I love. But now there are all these signs that a child obviously lives here full time. A real one.


    For one there''s a lot more scuffs and damage to the otherwise pristine wooden floors. And the chairs are more mismatched as if they''ve been replaced slowly here and there.


    In the other rooms on the way here, there are certain spots that give it away. A small desk crammed with water-damaged books in the library, more stools and messy scrawling scrolls in the main workroom, tiny little cool knick-knacks and crude animal figures everywhere. It just feels more, not really messy so much as lived in.


    Gable has the magical ability to clean but there are still all these little messes and signs that scream ''Lukas was here!''. Small socks in the corners, tiny fingerprints smeared, all that and more.


    Okay to be fair, some of the bigger messes scream more ''Grampa was here!''. Those are definitely his fat boots in the outer closet. And his stinky stuff in the inner closets. Definitely grampa''s messes.


    Speaking of which....


    "Gable, is Lukas off with grampa? I don''t see either of them. The other day gramps kidnapped Amar too, are they together?" I ask, climbing over to his counter area to hand over the eggs. It just makes sense.


    Gable nods, accepting my hard-earned offerings, aka chores. Aka surviving the chickens, again.


    "Yes, they should be back soon. They''re just off getting fresh milk and some things."


    "Milk?"


    Like the grocery store? We don''t exactly have a local mini mart or supermarket here. Besides, doesn''t Gable keep the old goat for that? If it''s with grampa it can''t be good news.


    "It''s....a more specialized kind. Besides, it''s good to let those boys ...and Ronald, tire out. By the way, bring this to your sister and let her charge off some steam will you Rosalia?"


    "Well ok."


    I expected more seemingly plain magical rocks but Gable slides something even more surprisingly mundane. Lilyanne and I have zapped up some weapons and amulets before but I can''t say we ever changed a spoon. Or a ladle, or a bowl.


    Hey, there''s a first time for everything. If anyone had a secretly magical spoon I would think it be Gable afterall. Shrugging off the request I gather up the utensils and patter my way over to Lilyanne. She''s a bit difficult to reach while in her new high chair but nothing I can''t stack and climb over.


    Take my hand and this spoon Lilyanne, it''s magical zap zap time! Don''t want you getting sick again.


    As I sit there feeling for the gauge on when to take the spoon away from her sticky hands, I can''t help to marvel how easy it really was in the end. My Lilyanne''s health problems, a defining characteristic of her person, her fate, was that simple to solve.


    No prolonged doctors visits. No far away treatment plans in other lands. Not even some physical therapy? There''s no need for it, not when the problem has finally been identified and the treatment so readily available.


    She can grow up like a normal, though pampered, little girl. She doesn''t need to hurt through any more spells or fevers. Of course it would be good if she could be healthier, that was part of my initial goals while I''m still in this household. A healthier Lilyanne is less of a burden to not only me but everyone. It''s why my parents even have the luxury of bothering with me.


    In no way was that nerd of a father ever so annoying to Rosalia before. In no way did my mother hover so much over me, let alone pay so much attention to me.


    That I can reason out. Healthier Lilyanne means more time and mental resources to deal with your other kid. So yay, good for Lilyanne. May she grow up to be a better, less vulnerable person.


    Amazing, Gable really is amazing. Of course, he is, of course, he would figure it out.


    But my brain doesn''t shut off just because I actually trust someone. I wish I was more intelligent, wiser and all that crap. But I''m rather normal, I see a pattern and I see holes, but I can''t see the answer to them.


    Where was Gable in the last life?


    Where was he? I...never formally met him, I think. I''m not sure why.


    He seems close with mother, he''s terribly close with grampa...why wasn''t he in the picture in the last lifetime? Why didn''t he come save Lilyanne? It would have saved us a lot of headache and heartache.


    Of course he''s not obligated to do so, not then and not now.


    It''s just odd.


    Where was he then? What was he doing? What changed now?


    The only factor I can isolate is me. But I can''t figure anything further.


    The only difference is that I found Gable first, through the mess of unfortunate events sans Grampa. If Gramps decided to catapult a real toddler as he did me, the kid may have died out of shock before they even landed by bird. Unless Rosalia passed out with a great episode of amnesia I''m sure I would have some recollection of that trauma, no matter how young I was.


    Let''s just blame grampa again. Yes, this is all grampa''s fault. Was he a reincarnator in the last timeline too, he must have been, it''s still him. What does that mean in the grand scheme of it all? See this is too much deep thinking, let''s set it aside to never think about again.


    "You know what''s the weirdest part Gable?"


    Of course I''m sure I wasn''t speaking out loud without realizing it again, that''s a terribly stupid habit. Where the hell does it come from? No I mean to speak directly yo Gable this time.


    "Hmm?" he hums, completely oblivious to the dissemination going on in my tiny little head.


    As if this was normal, but it is to him. This, this entire world is normal to everyone but me, the one with all these lifetimes of memories. Geez how does grampa deal with reality? Maybe he doesn''t, that would explain a lot.


    Lilyanne burps and gnaws on the spoon, unintentionally charging it though her wet gums and baby teeth. The kitchen tinkers and boils away. It''s peaceful here. It makes me ill-advised to break it, no matter how many questions I have. More than will ever be answered.


    "Gable, the strangest part is why you have a baby chair. No really, the design of it, this is ''modern''. No one has baby high chairs, how did you come up with this? How many weird things does grampa tell you about?"


    Questions I''m not brave nor proactive enough to ask about.


    I''m still recovering from the last ''talk'' I had with grampa ok. Club reincarnation sucks, really don''t wanna have the next meeting anytime soon, as important as they are. How are these things scheduled anyways? Is it like, bi-annual or whatever?


    That sounds painful but reasonable. Even more so than my arranged meetings with my baby fiance.


    But I suppose it''s gotten easier after that. An interdimensional ice breaker, sorta, it''s complicated.


    I can let more things slip. Less worrying about what I have to keep secret to hide, especially from the fearful old man himself.


    If anyone finds me odd, as they rightfully should, they just blame grampa or my father for teaching me weird things. Our staff is already used to much odder things, they don''t even blink at me or anything I demand to do.


    What a terrible reputation this family has. From the way people either pray to or cower at ''Lady Maria'', mother''s not exactly spotless either. What a dysfunctional family this is.


    Gable needs to take me away more often.


    "Not exactly, this ''baby'' chair as you call it is based on an executioner''s seat So it would be incorrect to say no one has it, though certainly not for infants. Yes it was modified by Ronald though, morbid really. "


    Explained Gable, floating away a few items that he had finished and pulling out a few more, including some books. Is he cooking or experimenting on some research? It''s hard to tell.


    Apparently grampa used a similar chair on mother when she was young, much to Gable''s then horror. SInce you know, an innocent baby sat where a to be distanced criminal would be bound and ready for public execution. Lovely comparison, but geez it''s just a high chair people, no need to be so terrified.


    "That''s....exactly what Ronald would say. *sigh* Unfortunately for me, your grampa likes to tell me about every other random thing that flies through his head. There is no distinction or meter to judge on. Things he should tell me about, say important events or practical information, he finds irrelevant and keeps mum. Random....things... he finds very...fascinating."


    "That sounds like gramps alright, you sure have it hard."


    "Yes....last time I got an earful on.... such subjects such as the obscure mating process of migrating seasonal fish....."


    "Like salmon- err the pink ones."


    "Yes like the pin crested Nerka...how did you know?"


    "They''re in season right?! See at this time of year they swim up from the ocean to our freshwater rivers to lay their eggs and we have a similar fish called salmon where I''m from. The eggs have to be sprayed out into the water before males can fertilize them in a similar manner but if you catch a female with full egg sacs, they''re really tasty with soy sauce over rice-"


    Oh would you look at that, the spoon in my shared grasp with Lilyanne tingles in my hand. Charging time is up. Onto to next thing, a spatula? Sure, chew on this Lily.


    Gable''s current experiment must not be going too well because he looks to be resigned, face in his palms to hide his tired frustration. He''s muttering how the results are the same, how sad.


    Fighting Gable!


    This random talk has me hungry though. I really miss salmon, like sushi style and stuff. I wasn''t just going off randomly when I started talking about ikura, I really miss soy sauce and sweet short grain rice. Miss a lot of things really. Shush now tummy, we can''t have what''s not possible. At least not until I make it possible.


    Don''t know how but I''ll figure it out. I''m super rich now after all.


    Gable seems to distract himself when he hears my tummy go off since my stomach doesn''t listen to my brain obviously.


    "Rosa hungwi! Rum rum!"


    ".....eat your spatula Lily."


    "Rumm gwaaa noms."


    My little twin is perfectly content to suckle on the corner of the kitchen utensil. Thanks for outing me sis.


    "Hmmm, Rosalia, would you say you consume more than your sister?"


    Ack! How could you ask that Gable?! I''m a delicate little lady and....oh screw it. I pucker my lips in thought on how to word this.


    "Mmmmm...yes. Father says I eat a lot more, like lots more. But it''s just snacks! I sneak out a lot more and stuff. Okay and at meal times, but Lily is getting better since we figured out her fever source! She eats a lot at meal times."


    "Are your portions about the same them, at meal times?


    I see the feather pen scribbling the observations into a notebook in the air and deduce this is Doctor Gable time. No need to be shy, it''s all for a medical reason yes. But a girl still feels shy when confronted about her weight, no matter how old she is.


    "....no. I eat ...like....1/3 more? Sometimes double."


    "And how much more snack times?"


    "I don''t know, no really I can''t say. There''s a lot of kitchen experiments that I need to taste, and snacks for before and after my training or lessons. Lilyanne gets snack time too! Just...maybe twice a day."


    "Hmmmm, I see."


    And I take...an uncountable number. I wouldn''t say a dozen or anything, though some days may be like that.


    If food shows up then it''s snack time. If a kitchen staff has tasters for me of if a troop member wants to tip me a new goodie from their travels, then it''s definitely snack time.


    It''s fine, right? I''m a toddler, we''re supposed to be focused on gaining fat and nutrients. I should not have to be feeling weight conscious for a good number of years!


    My twin and I are about the same size though.


    True, I''m much sturdier. The kind of toddler that looks like you could toss into a ball pit without any fear. But for the most part, we''re not that different. I''m not anywhere near overweight and she looks perfectly healthy, not underweight at all. We''re both chubby baby mochis. We burn calories in different numbers, so it would make sense we need different intake amounts. I highly doubt staying with mother and the maids are very strenuous activities. Though I do hear Lilyanne likes rolling around on the floor when she gets bored. I claim no responsibility for that ok, no matter what mother says.


    Gable sets down the pen and book to soothingly smooth down my hair and forehead.


    "No need to worry yourself Rosalia, it''s nothing to be concerned about. You''re both perfectly healthy despite your different habits."


    I can''t help but to puff my cheeks, it''s hard controlling emotions in this sensitive young body.


    "You''re not going to say I eat too much?"


    "No, absolutely not."


    "And you''re not just saying that to make me feel better?"


    "If you think you eat too much you should see Lukas."


    "He''s like 5 though, of course, he needs more nutrients."


    Gable pats my heads and checks a meter sort of thing floating around Lilyanne. In front of me a plate floats down, the parts and pieces of snack piling up together. Fruits, olives, nuts and bits of cheese pile up with a bread roll.


    "Six actually, he just turned 6. And he certainly eats more than the average 6 year old, he needs to. You all do. Fun times stocking to kitchen."


    "What! Really?! He would have said something!" I exclaim in surprise. Kid like him is the type that lets everyone know for a month beforehand. You know, the kind of kid that reminds you daily.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Oh trust me, he did, repeatedly. But it''s not something he can really go, tellin anyone, while he''s living here so isolated."


    "Sometimes you call."


    "Sometimes yes...but we have our rules. "


    Gable lifts me away from the Lilyanne perch and sets me down on a proper seat by the table, along with what I suppose is my snack plate. Wait are those pistachio nuts in there? Score!


    "Dinner won''t begin to be set for over an hour so tide yourself with this for now- and no don''t concern yourself over trivial matters of ''too much''. No such thing. The difference in your diets is interesting but expectedly normal, you''re more than fine. Children need to eat, more so if you wish to grow stronger."


    See I knew Gable was the best.


    "Okay then, do you need help with dinner?"


    "Thank you Rosalia, perhaps another time. That will be unnecessary for now."


    While I''m munching down, two more nutritiously balanced snack plates are floating up and being filled at double the amount I received. I don''t think those are for Lilyanne or Gable himself, hey wait where did that ham come from?


    The kitchen rumbles like a small earthquake chose this spot as the epicenter. Gable curses under his breath, snapping things back into place.


    "I remember saying to use the doors, why the hell do we have doors?"


    Out of the fireplace, a bright greenish flame erupts, prompting Lilyanne to clap giddily at the magic show,


    "We''re back!" bellows grampa, half covered in soot and grass stains as he steps through the flames and into the actual kitchen.


    "We''re back! And we got the milk!" echoes a little black haired boy strapped to his front that sounds exactly like Lukas.


    Correction, it is Lukas. Just an extremely filthy Lukas, Like dipped in tar, oil and soot levels of dirty.


    Given grampa''s history, I don''t doubt for a moment that''s what happened.


    Gable just shakes his head, waving his finger to clear the soot and ash from dirtying anything further.


    "Welcome back, did you have fun?"


    "Yeah we climbed the Nightding gorge and crossed all the little chasms and-and-oh hi Rosalia! Huh why''d you bring the other baby- and then we swung from the living trees but I didn''t dodge that last one carrying all our stuff but it''s cool so-"


    "Slow down Lukas, yes we did all of that and more. And yes Gable we found the beast and got the milk." grampa remarked, dropping a small sack that must be bigger on the inside. Especially if it was to be worth whatever mess of a grocery run they were just on.


    "Uh huh, at a great cost to the boy''s clothing I see....Ronald....where is....the other child?"


    Lukas sits partly slug to grampas chest, a looser dangling version of Lilyanne''s baby sling, to which a now small child has no problem fitting. Like a bad fashion model, grampa turns around to show what was strapped to his back. A slightly smaller and much more bewildered looking child.


    "Right here! Nice and safe!"


    "Pray exactly...what did you do to them to get them this dirty?"


    "Nothing! We went and gathered the ingredients just like you listed out Gable. Right Lukas?"


    "Right we didn''t do anything- except for when commander said it would be a good training fo us to jump into a-mmmpf"


    With a little help from grampa, Lukas shuts up.


    "Absolutely nothing! Boys are just so messy! Not like my darling granddaughters! Hello dearies!"


    "Gwampy!"


    While Lilyanne may be happily waving back over her drooly spatula, I choose to munch on my snack plate like it were popcorn.


    This is a very familiar scene. Messy but familiar. I didn''t see the comparison earlier but now that it''s noisy this reminds me a lot like going to my grandparent''s house. You know, away from the parents, cousins screaming everywhere. How oddly nostalgic. Of course, Gable''s place smells much better than my granny''s old countryside farmhouse, though still somewhat medicinal.


    "Hi Lukas, Hi Amar. Did grampa throw you guys like cannon balls somewhere too?"


    "Yeah it was awesome! Right Amar?!" exclaims Lukas as grampa unstraps them down. He looks like he''s been through a cartoon level bad explosion, or worse.


    Amar gets down unharmed but looks far too still, his mind still somewhere else. Geez how bad was this place? He looks traumatized.


    "But how does it poop? Or eat?"


    "...I''m sorry, what now?"


    Well, that wasn''t anywhere what I was expecting out of Amar''s mouth. Talk about awkward, I was enjoying my snack!


    "How does the cow- beast do anything? It has no head, no bottom, but so many legs. How can it poop? How!" he exclaims, rightfully bewildered.


    "Duh, it''s maaagic, an above-ground dungeon beast. Come on Amar, you''re usually better at listening then I am." answers Lukas easily, which really isn''t an answer at all.


    "But how? How does it poop?! If we can collect their milk then it has to eat something, so then it has to poop. If there are no exits but the udder....does it poop where it milks?"


    The no less filthy other boy looks down to his black hands and awkwardly to the sack, where the collected mystery milk must be stored.


    "Gable and commander said so- it''s maaagic."


    "Magic things still need to poop though. Everything that consumes does."


    "I don''t know, we got the milk and we lived! I mean of course I did, I practice a lot with our goat."


    "It doesn''t make sense- what if....what if the milk is its poop?"


    "But it was milk-colored!"


    "Milk poop?"


    "Whoa- bleck oh gross."


    Ah yes lovely, the conversational topics of little children. I am so glad I have willingly chosen to associate myself with these two. I am completely tuning this out, do not want to know at all about a milkable cow with no head and no butts. What is that even supposed to look like?


    How does something like that poop?


    Of course, I don''t dare ask. What if grampa takes that as permission to take ME on a grocery run next time?


    "Well technically-" starts grampa, before a bread roll flies into his mouth. He settles on munching and playing with Lilyanne, leaving Gable to handle this crisis.


    "Alright, that''s enough of that, I promise there is a very good explanation and there is no milk ...poop. It''s just milk. *sigh* We''ll go over it later. I had prepared some snacks for when you all got back but you all clearly need to bath before that. Off you go then" finalizes Gable.


    Lukas both perks up at the word snack and instantly deflates on the word bath. Leaving Amar to drag him along. The boy looking much more relieved and back to normal to finally be answered of his very concerning questions. He never got the full answer but this much as good enough.


    "Come on, the faster we clean the faster we eat."


    I see the boy, the one who is actually a natural brunette and not just filthy to that point, eyeing the snack plates, making no attempts at being subtle. I get it, adventure time with grampa is hungry work.


    "Okay! Thanks for taking us, commander!" shouts out Lukas, before turning to me. He drools a bit at my snack plate but shakes himself out of it.


    "Sorry you missed out Rosalia, it was awesome! But you weren''t here yet and Gable said it was ok, he would bring you later! Which is now. It''s okay because there''s tomorrow and the day after that and after that and lots of things planned!" goes the chatter mouth, exiting only by the aid of Gable''s snapping fingers.


    I sit there at the kitchen table, ignoring grampa''s Lilyanne directed babytalk and trying not to choke on a grape myself.


    There''s a lot of what now?

 71 Fishies

    There is a little knocking disturbing my sleep.


    You know in 80s movies how someone throws little rocks and stuff at a window to wake up the person inside, get their attention?


    Yeah, it''s not so effective without the glass or window part. Or well, it''s super effective and also super annoying.


    "What?!" I hiss awake through the darkness of the night.


    "Did we wake her?" comes a blob in the dark, his pale hair reflecting the most light.


    "I think so, Lilyanne doesn''t sound like that." whispers another.


    "Oh ok good, hey Rosalia get down here!"


    I blink to fully wake myself up and place out my surroundings.


    The baby crib that Gable set up for Lilyanne and I is snug, made of gnarled twists of wood. At first I found it really unnecessary but when I consider Lilyanne rolling, I see the point. As protected as it is, it''s like a cage, full of holes between brach bars.


    I recall Gable and Gramps magically tucking us into bed. I now, however, must question Gable''s decision of putting all of us in Luka''s bedroom. Doesn''t he know that just screams trouble?


    It''s a large enough room for a bunch of children to not feel crowded, even with all of Luka''s accumulated stuff. Trunks, drawers, even a desk are slowly being filled. It''s a cozy little room in the making, I''m glad for him.


    It''s no worse than a bunk dorm or staying over a friend''s house for the night. Besides we''re all really small.


    Lilyanne and I get this magically makeshift crib, since it''s best for me to nullify her mana through touch when we sleep. The boys had been bundled in Luka''s nest of a bed right below.


    No really, it''s a den of a bed. All round and surrounded by pillows. Very Rosalia approved kind of sleeping quarters. It just needs some flowing curtain canopies to be child perfect.


    It''s all one big nursery in here.


    "I''m up I''m up, what is it? Ew what time is it even?". I rub the sleep from my eyes. Might as well see what''s up before they throw something ever more damaging up here.


    "I don''t know- Lukas what time is it?" questions Amar bluntly.


    "It''s no Gable yelling at us adventure time!"


    "....That...tells me nothing" I hiss down in the general direction of their voices.


    "Oh ok, *yawn* that''s not a time but ok. It''s too dark to see the moon so I don''t know either. Maybe midnight?"


    No, no it is not ok. I am small and need my sleep!


    But it should be fine if it''s for a little bit. It''s nowhere near dawn, still far too dark for that, and the fact that all three of much would be much sleepier. It certainly hasn''t been too long since Gable turned off the lights on us. No more than a couple of hours at most.


    It takes a little maneuvering to climb out of the uneven crib sides. Good for trapping real toddlers, easy enough for fake babies like me to escape if need be. I make sure to leave a pillow in my old position for Lilyanne to clutch in her deep sleep. Good girl, no waking and crying now please.


    Since the crib is on the tall side, and I don''t have the vision of a cat, there''s a little slip and slide. There''s also the knowledge that there''s a perfectly good and cushiony bed right below so I let myself go.


    To the sounds of pain and complaints below, including my own. Ouch.


    "Oooompf"


    "Ack my nose."


    "Whose ankle is this?"


    "Sssshhhhh"


    "Sorry but warn a guy?"


    "Sorry."


    Whoops, forgot to account for little humans down there. Still a cushiony enough landing, we just need some time to untangle ourselves in the dark. Geez how can short limbs be so hard to coordinate?


    "Sssshhhhh" Lukas shushes us all particularly loud.


    He can''t see me roll my eyes in the dark and I settle to make myself comfortable after I''m sure I''m not on anyone''s lap, or head. I am mildly sorry to all those who I landed on, just mildly. I nearly got kicked in the face!


    Taking this blanket here, and a cushion there, excuse me whoever you are, and another pillow. Aaaaaand suddenly there is a big blanket over my head, no risk of child suffocation there.


    Under the covers, Lukas reveals a hidden a jar of something luminescent blue. It looks like moss or mold, but much less disgusting, though that could just be the pretty glowing part. The glow acts as a flashlight on his tender face, lighting not only him but the small space under the blanket.


    "We have a busy time tonight and back before morning, before Gable catches us. If everything goes to my plans, we''ll have lots of time and back to sleep. "


    From the other side, Amar sleepily yawns but nods none the less, his too-large pajamas slightly slipping at his slim shoulder. Lukas cackles silently, the flashlight effect making his pale face somewhat creepy looking. It''s getting a tad too warm to breathe in this badly ventilated tent, given that Lukas is the tentpole.


    What a mischievous sleepover mood.


    Now a good little girl would say something along the lines of ''absolutely not''.


    A more reasonable person would ask ''what are we doing?''.


    "What makes you so sure Gable won''t catch us?" I whisper, doubting sureness of Luka''s ''plans''. Sure, what is childhood without some late night shenanigans? But how do we not get in trouble for it?


    I''m the adult here, not physically but you know. Obviously I''m the most mentally mature and sound of mind. Thus I should supervise these brats in whatever messes they''re doing. It would only be worse if they went off without me. That''s dangerous. Obviously I have to play along with them. Not at all curious.


    Besides, the birthday boy is asking, or well already planning. How could anyone say no?


    "Gable doesn''t watch out nearly as carefully when Cap'' stays over. And it''s been almost 2 whole hours since he turned off the lights, from experience I say we''re good to go. "


    "Cap?" I ask, I''m out of the loop here.


    "Your grampa *yawn*, sometimes saying ''commander'' gets too long. So....he...lets us *zzzzzzzz*."


    In annoyance, Lukas pulls Amar eyelids up, flashing the light into his eyes and effectively waking him back up. Okay I admit, this is a little amusing. I shall allow myself a giggle at his sleepy expense. This is why I allow these kids around me after all.


    "Alright, suit up and get ready for a walking!" the mastermind yells-whisper into the night. The sound muffled under the warm covers.


    "Are we going outside? Is it going to be cold?" I''m bringing a blanket no matter what but should I change out of my night clothes?


    "Do we get snacks?" asks Amar. Oh good question, I support.


    "Right is there food involved in this? And you still didn''t tell us if it''s going to be cold."


    "It''s Lukas, I don''t think he feels cold anymore. Once I saw him walk barefoot in the snow."


    "Oh right, we should just bundle up anyways."


    "Geez guys, yes yes and yes! And I only do that sometimes when I''m rushing training, I still get cold!"


    Even his yelling whispers have quite a volume to them. I wonder how Gable could miss us, even if he was deep asleep. And somehow grampa distracts him even more so on the nights he stays over? Maybe he''s even louder? I believe that.


    Where does grampa sleep anyways?


    Hey how many times does he stay over? To the point Lukas has a system figured out? No fair!


    I''m too lazy to try getting changed under the close space of these covers. It''s good enough to just layer myself in extra clothes and coats over my nighties. Oh and socks, socks are important, we''re not all Lukas after all. Pop open the space bag and we''re good to go.


    Amar ends up sleepily rolling himself in blankets, looking like a comfortable little ghost, before reaching for his weatherproof cloak somewhere under the bed. Right blankets, bringing a blanket.


    What a surprise, Lukas is appropriately dressed too, and in socks! Great, I thought he lost them all again. Geez I sure hope we''re not going anywhere too freezing cold. I was just cozy and sleeping a few moments ago.


    I check one last time to make sure Lilyanne is still sound asleep. Then we''re sneaking out the door, mission impossible style.


    I was joking earlier, but these kids are actually pretty silent and sneaky when they want to be. I''m nowhere near as silent as them but it''s good practice?


    Sneaky sneaky follow their lead. I am silent. I am a ninja. I am the night. Aaaaand I made noise again.


    This is kind of nerve racking no lie. I never snuck around Gable''s house in the middle of the night before, even when I was staying here.


    That''s just rude when it''s not your own house.


    In this case, it''s alright if Lukas is here. Obviously it''s his house now too, whether the boy knows it or not.


    "Okay, so we have to be super careful in the upcoming hall." Lukas legitimately whispers, now carrying the light jar like it were a lantern.


    He turns back to say it to all of us but he''s not being subtle about where he''s looking.


    Riiiight at me, the weakest loudest link.


    "I get it I get it, whose piggybacking me across the hall?"


    I really do, I am the smallest and least experienced here. So what if I can''t ninja my way around just yet? I''ll get there eventually, right? I would hope so if I wish to survive mother''s supervision. I think I''m doing rather well for a child my age, otherwise, I''d never even be invited to tag along to this thing.


    "I think Rosalia''s still small enough to just pick up and carry?" offers Amar in the middle. Can''t deny that, I''m a pip squeak.


    Lukas nods, gesturing to the lantern he''s already holding and pointing to certain points in the hall.


    "Avoid those spots, they creak the most. And whatever you do, don''t touch the ground."


    "Got it, avoid the floor. Come on Rosalia- up you go."


    "K, you carry her, I''ll scout and lead. Just follow my path."


    Excuse me what now? Don''t touch the ground? But that means....oh boy this is gonna be a ride. Yeah I definitely wasn''t getting past this ''the floor is lava'' game on my own. I obediently allow myself to be lifted and carried by the unreliably scrawny boy because I really do not want to find out what the ''lava'' floor really consists of.


    I may not appreciate being carried and treated like a baby but I sure can''t climb or scale walls like a damn spiderman. Hey hey any chance I can learn this though?


    It''s not the smoothest ride I admit, but we''re kids here. Pretty damn good for a skinny brat. I won''t even complain about my motion sickness. Each landing is followed by a near-immediate jump to not lose momentum. From what I can see when I can right my sense of balance, Lukas is going a pretty quick but careful job leading. I even saw him throwing something that looks like it would disarm a trap. Meanwhile, Amar is busy balancing my dead weight. Sorry dude, keep up the good work.


    Wait a second, I definitely saw both of them carry much heavier things before, I''m fiiiiine. Hop to it, don''t you dare drop me.


    After that slightly tedious ordeal, I''m put down so we can descend those dark stairs. You know? The ones we''re not supposed to go down.


    It''s not an exact repeat of the last time though, with Lukas confidently leading the way. He must know what he''s doing because, after exactly two normal flights of twisting stairs, there''s a door!


    "Now the definitely wasn''t there last time." I remark to the other boys'' nods.


    "Stop one, drinks!" announces Lukas with the flourish of a circus performer.


    He bends and bows dramatically as the door slides open with his little hand. With his permission, we have no need to be cautious and step right in. The darkness gives way to the artificial lighting inside the mysterious room that supposedly contains refreshments.


    What''s there is not a bar nor a kitchen but something that looks like a wooden and copper lab. Wait no, a brewery!


    Large and small vats scatter across the room, while wooden barrels line the walls, aging and flavoring their contents. I love it, I love this room. I just can''t drink any damn thing in here!


    "Lukas isn''t this alcohol?"


    Look I get it, everyone has their underaged drinking moments. But we''re way too young for this shit to be messing our developing brains. I know kids dranks beer in like the medieval times but that was different! It was safer than water then.


    "This place definitely reeks of alcohol. Strong ones too."


    Amar''s voice comes out nasally from him pinching his nose and we both turn to give our host a questioning stare. To which he swagger and waves his finger, leading us further into the room.


    "Of course it does, this is where Cap'' and Gable try making them. The good ones go to cap''s belly and the not so good ones go to the troops. Gable writes down all their recipes and stuff to see what works and what doesn''t."


    "That''s nice. Good for them but what about us?" I''m at the point where I need to hold my nose now. Oh that''s strong.


    "Patience young one! Hehehe that''s what Gable always says to me, hehe."


    "Oh it smells better over here, sweeter."


    If Amar is letting go of his nose I assume it''s safe to smell again in this area. The jars and vats over here must not be properly fermented yet or better yet, it''s not even alcohol in the first place. Gable should have some variety in his drinks right.


    "I think you''re gonna find this super familiar Rosalia." grins Lukas, swiping some mugs that look like they were carved out of some horns. He releases a vat lid opening with a great pop, filling his mug a bit with a fizzy dark brown liquid for a happy swig and sigh.


    Kinda looks like a kid drinking beer still.


    "It smells like herbs mixed up but sweet." sniffs Amar, taking up a mug to taste.


    I don''t waste time either, easily scooting up to pour a hollow horn cup. The liquid bubbles in an even more intense way than my krackle berry ''sodas'' and that''s when I make the connection.


    My soda! The kombucha teas I modified, Gable''s perfected them even further to resemble the real things.


    The smell and taste is entirely different than what I''ve created though. It''s kinda like creamy rootbeer! A little medicinal, a little herby, but sweet and tasty! I love rootbeer!


    "It''s so sweet! There has to be sugar in here!"


    I try analyzing the drink, after downing half my mug of course. It''s been so long since I''ve tasted something this fizzy!


    "Right right! It''s so good!" laughs Lukas, already refilling his cup.


    Amar has the right kind of response, still chugging down soda. I want another refill too! Ah this really feels like naughty kids sneaking out for sweets at during a sleepover alright. I wonder if I should say something of the health repercussions of this sugar binge but naaaaah, not going to be a party pooper.


    Seriously guys, either stop hogging that soda opening or pour me some, I have the shortest limbs here.


    After we''re properly sugared out, or our bellies are too full of bubbly liquid either or, Lukas leads us to the rest of the evening.


    "So tomorrow is the big day, the great fishing!"


    "What''s the great fishing?" I ask, lost on the situation again. Lukas repeating himself, but louder, does not help.


    "It''s the great fishing!"


    "That''s just Lukas way of saying he''s super excited to go fishing tomorrow. Commander says it the same way. "


    "Aahhh yeah that does sound like grampa. " I reason. Guess we''re going fishing huh?


    "The great fishing! There will be two main tests! Who can catch the biggest fish and who can catch the most! Winner gets a free pass from Gable and I need all I can get. I''m gonna beat everyone, esp Cap'' on catching them all!"


    "Not if you''re gonna scare them away first." I deadpan. That might just be what will happen with those loudmouths.


    "And you''re all gonna help me! " Lukas announces a little maniacally.


    "Help you fish? Or beat Cap''? Or-"


    "All of them! All! Amar, you''re my right hand man. Rosalia you''re my right hand girl-man! Now, to gear up!"


    "...girl-man?"


    "It''s a good thing, just go with it."


    As Lukas leads us back to the hall and through the wall to a somewhat familiar underground forest, I can''t help but to gossip behind his back. Quite literally.


    "I think he drank too much sugar." I whisper.


    "The soda is yummy, I''m really awake now. But yeah, maybe he did." responds back the other sugar high child, eyes wide open. I can''t deny I''m feeling fully hyped up awake myself. Which may have been part Luka''s evil plan in the first place.


    But it''s the birthday boy so we gotta follow and listen.


    After an odd nature hike through too much terrain I can''t recognize, he leads us to sit down on not grass or something comfy but a frozen lake! Is this ice stable?


    Lucky for me I came prepared this time and pull out some pillows and cushions from my space bag. That way our butts don''t all freeze off, especially mine!


    "Good thinking Rosalia, now let''s start!" announces our leader of the day.


    With a twirl of his pointer finger, he floats up a clear crystal ball but probably was made of solid ice. It''s a magic show, a real one, as he concentrates, a pendant under his clothes glowing through. It definitely takes some time as the lit up boy focuses and gathers his spell. Maybe I''m a sucker for a good light show but I''m impressed he''s seemed to learn so much from Gable already.


    Ah magic users really do have it the best.


    Out of nowhere, Amar, who I now suspect is something of a drug dealer, pulls out a bag of tiny assorted cookies to munch on while we wait.


    I don''t even need to verbally threaten him before he hands some of those delicious munchies over. How delightful! Are these jam cookies in the mix? How simple and ingenious to sweeten goods. These things are dangerous!


    Suddenly the ball lights up, spinning slowly, rotating until the lights start taking shape. It''s a projector, spinning moving pictures all around us on the ice. The cold barren landscape lights up and changes in a blink of the eye.


    Fish! We''re surrounded by giant fishies!


    At least moving images of them, gigantic illusions going in a swirling merry go round. They move and ripple through the ''water'' so realistically. No video could ever compare. If you reach out, it''s as if they react and swim away with a flash of sparkling light. Even as a modern person who has seen all sorts of things, movies, VR and all that jazz, it''s nothing compared to this...magic.


    I''m so caught up in the moment I can''t even find me to be jealous, it''s just too pretty. The boy next to me has his jaw equally dropped open, both of us forced to get up to get a better view of our new surroundings.


    Amazing, it''s actually really damn amazing.


    I don''t recognize the little magician standing center of it all. Where did such a fairytale sort of boy come from? Is that really our Lukas?


    "Whew! Finally got it to work! Um I mean, of course, I did! Hahahahahaha!"


    Okay so yes, this is still very much Lukas, but that doesn''t detract from this spectacle he''s pulled off in front of our eyes.


    "Magic is awesome." gapes Amar, half spinning to follow a nearby golden fish.


    "Really awesome." I agree, distracted by too many sights of little silver and rainbow fishies.


    "I''m awsome!" cheers Lukas, and right now yeah. I really agree on that.


    Our speechlessness must be a more than good enough response because Lukas beams in sincere pride, the glow of the lights making him look otherworldly. He looks happy, happier than I ever have seen the kid.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Ah, so this is the influence Gable can have. The influence of having someone behind you, backing you up and caring for you. The magic is certainly an eye-catching bonus but, Gable has really been good for the boy.


    "Okay! So enough gaping like gobo-monkeys you two! Tomorrow is the great fishing and we need reviewing! Especially you Rosalia, so catch up! But you''re smart so it''s cool. Amar, help out! Now the biggest fish is this here, this is our big goal!"


    And so began our nightly cram session on our prey, and the maybe not so effective plans to ''beat'' my grandfather, this fishing season. Gotta admit though, what a visually exciting way to learn.


    -------


    Flip side:


    -------


    "I''m going to kill that boy."


    "Nooooooooo no Gabe nooooo no killing the birthday boy. That goes against the whole point of having a birthday! You know? To celebrate life?"


    "Once I get my hands on him he''s going to be-"


    "No no no no bad Gabbey, bad. Come on, they''re just kids! You remember what it''s like!"


    "Do you know how much sugar they drank?! At this hour?!!! How much sugar Lukas drank alone?!"


    "Ummm.....a lot?"


    "A bloody damn hell lot Ronald! They''re going to be up the whole damn night! And then what? Then they''ll crash! And then they''ll cry because they can''t get up and go on their outing. And then they''ll cry some more afterward and-"


    "Gabe, Gable, calm down. It will be fine. Really I got it, let me handle the outing tomorrow. Come on, who else can play those kids like I do?"


    Ronald pleads the other man apologetically as if he were the one who drank half a barrel of the experimental sugary concoction. He''s had a lot of practice from groveling when he drank half or whole barrels of other things in that room without permission.


    "You spoil him." growled out Gable, arms crossed in frustration.


    "Mayyyyyybe just a little." Ronald pinched out, fingers showing just a little bit to Gable''s not at all calming anger.


    "You always spoil them." the blond spits out, part in resignation and the rest in still seething flames.


    "Not always, I admit I may have, absolutely spoiled Maria, she''s my little girl. But Lukas is different...that kid has never been spoiled in his life."


    "...."


    "Oh come on, you know you''re the favorite. He loves you most, they all do."


    "...."


    "Gaaaableeeee."


    "...."


    "Gable. It''s alright to let the kids wander off to their own adventures once in a while. We did too during those time, hell we still have our adventures. It doesn''t start or end at any age."


    ".....they''re going to get into some terrible messes." the blond grumbles.


    "Yeah probably. But it will be their messes, not ours. If we feel like being extra nice, maybe we''ll help them clean up, just a little. Now step away from the door, yes juuuuust like that. Come back to bed, sooooft sleeeepy bed. Very good bed."


    "Don''t patronize me Ron."


    "I would never! Now seriously step away and put the wand down. No punishing the kiddos on this night, they got a big weekend coming up and I will show them how a master catches fish!"


    Gable sighs in a final defeat because fine, just fine. They can have their fun tonight and when they start crying troubles tomorrow Gable will have no sympathy, not even a tinge. He''s also cutting out half the sweets he was planning, they had enough of that tonight alone. Shame he was really looking forward to working with the good spices and souvenirs that little Amar offered.


    He near collapses back on the bed to Ronald''s chuckles. Because fine, he''s not getting up. They can set themselves on fire and Gable just won''t get up out of bed anymore. He feels far too old for this, always did. Ronald can go deal with it. They''re his brats before sunrise.


    Even without opening his eyes, Gable can see how Ronald must be sitting there amusedly, watching the portal viewer following the children. Following them since some genius little boy decided to go tampering in the brewery cellar downstairs.


    Like he wouldn''t know if any of the barrels were touched, alcoholic or not. He''s had decades of guarding them against the best. Ronald was a thieving fiend for his drinks.


    Meanwhile Lukas was an inexperienced little sprout leading fellow green sprouts to the sugary doom.


    "I swear Maria wasn''t so difficult growing up."


    "That''s because Maria is my genes, but really they''re different. If my Maria changed back into a small child, she''d be nowhere as naughty as any of those three."


    "Oh she made her own breed of trouble. But I must admit, your granddaughter has her beat by leagues. Just who does she take after hmmm?"


    The man actually makes a show of thinking deeply about it, making Gable snort from his spot. Ronald doing deep thinking, it''s a disaster already.


    "Hmmm no idea, let''s blame Freddy!"


    There we go, that''s more like, thought Gable mercilessly. Not that he ever doubted Ronald''s intellect, it''s his EQ that was the problem. And some communication issues that Gable as spent near his whole life compromising with.


    "Oh yes, blame the son in law for everything."


    "Well not everything, just a lot of things. Much easier that way."


    "Much, when did her hair start turning the beginning shade of red?"


    "See this is why we blame Freddy!"


    "Ahh and does Frederick incite his children to sneak off after midnight to chug their body weight in sweets and drinks? That sounds more like your kind of thing."


    "Tsk Tsk Gable we can''t blame me for everything. Sometimes the child must hold responsibility, this was all Rosalia''s own decision. No one dragged her off and poured those sweets into her mouth. She drank....pretty darn well for her size. Honestly, I''m a little worried for her future, kid liked her wine."


    "True and Amar there isn''t so innocent either, especially when he keeps quiet. What troublesome little brats."


    "..."


    At Ronald''s silence, Gable looks up. He was supposed to quip back? That''s how they work. Ugh, for Ronald he will sit back up from bed. Especially if he''s being secretively strange again.


    "What is it now Ron? Spit it out." grumbles Gable, climbing to look over the other man''s shoulder at the porthole viewer.


    It was just the kids, hopping over some rocks in one of his inner gardens. He watches at how determined Rosalia totters along in the back, the tiniest of the bunch. Watches at how his careless boy Lukas would jump too far, too messily and sometimes slip and trip. Watches the lanky little Amar jump back and forth to speed Rosalia up or pull Lukas back when he needs be.


    "Their magical potential, how is it?" comes out Ronald''s voice, surprisingly somber.


    It takes Gable back for a moment, just a moment before he can right himself. Organize what he was meaning to update Ronald about eventually. It was just so messy dealing with 4 small children through dinner and the evening, Lilyanne being the most well behaved of them all.


    The rest were all monsters. Wonderful lovely monsters but little monsters none the less.


    "Amar....the boy has potential. No doubt about it, His veins are strong, he has the genetic history, but the child hasn''t presented yet. And there''s no indication of when." he starts, keeping information impartial, unbiased. Let''s see how long it will last against Ronald.


    "What are the chances he''ll get...that?" questioned Ronald, though he should know the numbers himself. The chances.


    "You know you can''t predict how magic will turn out in a child, no matter who the parents are. You know that."


    "No, but variations occur on the same tree if not the same branch. A parent can pass down near exactly the same gift to their child. We do the same research Gabe."


    "We can''t tell, there are too many variables but most likely it won''t be the same. It won''t be exactly like Aishwarya''s either. God why aren''t you asking about that? He has just as much chance of taking after his mother. You know that, gods I swear you just use me as a sounding board sometimes."


    "Gable no, of course not. You''re the best, though you are more violent than a sounding board- ow ok no punishing me tonight either I was kidding!" complained the man after he was kicked in the bare back.


    Gable had long legs and cold feet alright! They''re cold!


    "....that kid...honestly, there''s a good chance the gift will fuse. Two magical parents with compatible abilities, the probability is highest that he''ll develop a combination." Gable sounded out, eyes staring too intently at the ceiling beams.


    "If not outright both." countered Ronald, knowing Gable was shaking his head.


    "Possible but unlikely...We can''t tell, not yet. So until then, we keep an eye out, we keep careful. We don''t act until it''s time- for everyone''s safety."


    "I know, I know it''s just....it''s just ...hard."


    "....the best way to keep that child safe is to not say anything. The less anyone, knows anything, the better."


    "My troops. I try. Gods I try...try to provide them a found family, gods my inner crew...we are a family and-"


    "And Aishwarya loved it. She loved you, she loved us, all of us. And she wanted her son with us, within the troops, where he is safest."


    Ronald kept his eyes on the screen, observing each child and their interactions. Bue Gable knew when Ronald got like this. When he saw more ghosts of the mosts than the ones in the present.


    He could see Aishwarya''s graceful movements already in her boy. Ronald could see that young girl self spin and twirl herself dizzy in training. When did her son get so big?


    If he allows his mind to go down that road, he could still see her face twisted ugly through that blurry portal, desperately begging to save not her but the child.


    She wasn''t supposed to have a child on that mission. Wasn''t supposed to get caught at all. But life doesn''t work out according to the mission plan.


    Ronald should know that best. He''s died from it.


    ".....is he? I allowed him on a scouting missions and he got his head cracked open."


    "Giloh has been dealt with, hasn''t he? Surely you just didn''t let him go, let him make an example-"


    "Probation. He is still one of my own."


    "One this close to senseless murder were Amar any weaker a fighter."


    "The man still hurts too much, and he has taken it out on the wrong soul."


    "He takes it out on the child! Of the woman he claimed to love? That is no love and that is no man."


    Gable seethes, rightfully angry. But Ronald is ever protective of his troops, of those he adopts, for better or for worse. To give them another chance than anyone else would give them. It''s both admirable and stupidly dangerous.


    "....I''ll deal with my men....I know, it won''t happen again, I won''t let it."


    "Again is too late, how much has happened under our radar? How many others, grown adults, resent the boy? Wait in our absence, in the lack of the right supervision, to act? Aishwarya wouldn''t want this- she''d "


    "She''s gone. She''s gone and we- I need to do better."


    Gable grips his hand again not out of sympathy, but for their own shared guilt. This heavy burden of being the ones left alive.


    "We, Ronald. We will do better. We already are by starting this, talking. Talking it out is good for us, for you. And no you do not need wine to talk with me."


    Ronald lets out a half hollow sort of chuckle. Trust the only person he is willing to stay sober for through it all his worst times would be Gable. Was there really anyone else?


    "Enough on that- I''ll face Aishwarya ghost when I''m dead"


    "....Ronald."


    "When I''m dead because I have a lot to do still alive. Don''t worry about me Gable, I''m fine. "


    "...."


    "What about my little Rosa hmm? What''s going on with her and the lovely negative vibes!"


    A change in the flow, a change in the conversation. Gable recognizes Ronald''s habits, how he copes with his own mind. That is fine, Ronald''s health is his first priority, both mental and physical.


    "Rosalia....her void is growing. It''s not at full force all the time, but when she conducts Lilyanne''s magic it has to grow to compensate. Her powers aren''t growing proportional to Lilyanne, because Lilyanne isn''t growing at all. Her body is working too hard to dispel the huge magical pools. it''s already too large."


    ".....Good. Good, my babygirl doesn''t need more of a magical burden right now. Not for a long time."


    "Rosalia''s nullification is growing at a much faster rate though, and she''s not conscious of it. She can''t even begin to control it except for stopping Lilyanne''s active charge."


    "For now it''s fine, it eats up Lilyanne''s excess easily doesn''t it."


    "Yes, plenty, the surrounding environment too when they''re together. The longer they stay together in, the longer they can stay apart from the next time."


    With a wave of his hand Ronald slides the portal view to change to Luka''s bedroom. There in a wooden crib slept a toddler girl, curled up and drooling peacefully in her sleep. She was precious, the cutest little girl in the world right at this moment. And Ronald can''t bear to see her suffer, almost can''t bear the grips of long-chained guilt in his chest.


    Cool hands and pale arms carefully snake their way around him in a careful but embrace, knocking him back to this moment. Back to reality. Gable''s head leans against his cheek, to the point he can feel smooth hair and breathe nothing but the herbal shampoo and the scent of earth after it rains.


    This is a reality he would die for.


    "It''s not your fault." mutter Gable softly in warm shoulders, his, arms gripping tighter in comfort. Too tight for a normal man but just what Ronald needs. He was trying to draw back the other man from his own mind, trying to keep him here damn it.


    "I know....I know it''s not...can''t control these genes hahaha! This...useful...body."


    "It''s not your fault." Gable croons, clear and solid. Will repeat it time and time again even if need be. Even that means yelling into the other man''s ear when they''re old and deaf.


    "Of course not, Maria made it out fine and Lilyanne has her Rosalia! My girls will definitely be fine!"


    "It was never your fault. Never. You are not to blame. Never."


    "....Of course."


    "Don''t go there, don''t punish yourself. Lilyanne isn''t him, Rosalia isn''t you. IT''s not the same. You didn''t kill that child."


    "....Didn''t I?"


    No no no don''t go there, don''t go anywhere but here. Not again. Don''t shut me out again. But that is not what Gable speaks out loud, not what Ronald needs to hear right now.


    "No....no you didn''t. The boy that would have grown to be your brother, you didn''t kill him. Couldn''t have. Your....constitutions...were too unique. But Lilyanne is not him...she lived....and Lilyanne will not die. "


    "Hmmm."


    "Never your fault Ron. Never."


    A cool soothing kiss placed on the side on his temple, right by his ear. It burns hot still in something painfully unpleasant, strained from all the memories he still willingly carries. It''s a small but contrasting sensation. It means the world.


    Drops of rain, relief on a wild fire. It''s drizzling, drop by drop on his face until they come to a rest at his forehead, one that''s beginning to wrinkle with age.


    A world weary man takes a deep breath and lets himself drown in this, this moment.


    It''s more than he has ever asked for, more than he deserves. But because he''s a poor selfish bastard, always has been, he will greedily take it. Take every stolen moment of life available to him. He''s lived too many lifetimes to take it for granted, to take the beautiful soul beside him for granted. Not ever again.


    "Hey Gable?"


    The other man is always wary, always careful to read Ronald and his unpredictable habits. He can''t fully tell when Ronalds has truely made it back from the deep end or playing it up for laughs to reassure others. That''s what worries him


    But he''ll bite, he''ll play along because that will make Ronald happier than this. This hell of guilt and burden he constructs for himself in his mind.


    "Yes Ronald, what is it?"


    "I think you should look at this."


    A wave backward with his hand and Ronald has their view back to the mischievous kids downstairs in the garden space. They''re in the icy zone, flat and barren. The perfect blank stage to the show playing through the screen.


    Magic, the boy is playing with his magic all on his own. Not his natural ice nor snow but magic itself. And it''s breathtaking.


    "I didn''t teach him that." gaped Gable, eyes wide in wonder for the first time in what feels like years.


    "I know. But it''s very you, just look how pretty it is!"


    "You!"


    And he bursts out into his usual laugh, wide and open. The kind of contagious laugh that always had Gable too weak to be mad at. Sometime in there Gable can''t help but fall into the flow of things and fall into a wide grin himself. He holds the man in front of him even tighter, to keep him here and just right here in this moment. Might as well get comfortable in his now seat though.


    They watch the screen together, still glued in awkward limbs and too tight hugs. Watch as magic swirls in fishies and splashes, pride welling in them both.


    "You''re still dealing with them if they set something on fire. Or worse."


    "Yes yes yes I know. Hey Gable?"


    "Hmmm?"


    "Thank you. Thank you for now and always"


    "Yes yes yes I know. "


    ----

 72 Flotation Device Tes

    The sun is peeking to shine, sparkling beautiful light on the shimmering flowing water. A light breeze rustles the trees, hints of frost already in the air. It''s crisp, cold, and golden. A beautiful morning to go fishing.


    But why the hell are we already on the water?!?!?!?


    What the- I feel like Gable. Confused and ready to curse off swears a mile a minute. Where the hell- what is going on?!?!


    I''m not even on a boat! It''s an inflated raft, very much like a kiddy pool or a floatie cushioned up. A dog bed essentially! A dog bed floating down the not so lazy river! There''s only this flimsy thing separating me from dropping like a chubby rock in the possibly freezing raging river!


    Okay no panicking! No sudden movements! Nice rushing water, oh no the spray of it is cold.


    "You''re really ok? Just don''t jump off?"


    "I know that!"


    "Wait can you swim?"


    "Not well!!!"


    I am not panicking, this is just a really bad way to wake up. It''s a prank! A very bad prank. One moment I was peacefully in dreamland, and when I awoke I was suddenly floating in the middle of this river.


    Who wouldn''t scream? Just a little?


    "Maybe you should stay in the middle?"


    My death grip on the edge of the floatie device loosens as I''m half lifted by Amar to be relocated center of the floatie. Probably for the best as so I don''t panic slip myself into the water. For extra safety, and to prevent flailing, I''m wrapped further like a burrito wrap with a blanket. Wow, much trust.


    Curled up with a leg sticking out of his blanket cocoon is a snoozing Lukas, still blissfully ignorant to the current situation we''re in. Well, he''s in for one hell of a wake up call.


    Okay, let''s assess the situation and reason out how we got here.


    I specifically recall sneaking out of bed to get schooled by Lukas on his ''the great fishing!" plan. We had a lovely little hiking exercise, where my balance and stamina was put to the test, back and forth and even stocked up on some ''fishing gear''. Not Gable sanctioned mind you but Lukas has his ways.


    What a mischievous child! Gable must have his hands full.


    We took another path around and managed to sneak back to Luka''s bedroom. My sister still drooling in her sleep, no alarms, no scolding Gable, we were in the clear. Sleepy, aka sugar crashed, as I was I didn''t bother trying to climb back up that crib and just knocked out in Luka''s den with the boys. I don''t know what time it was in that darkness but we must have spent anywhere from two or hours rummaging about in the night.


    I swore we all fell asleep nice and sound in the bed, very much indoors. How did we end up here?


    "Is this perhaps one of Gable''s illusions?" I wonder.


    To be fair it''s like the top of Luka''s bed here, comfortable and cushioned. It''s just that it''s placed ontop this odd raft. Feels like a water park ride. Maybe we''re all caught up in another illusion? My only awake compansion looks around to the passing scenery with owlishly large eyes, trying to place what we''re seeing.


    "Maybe? But I don''t think so- this looks like above ground. Lukas and I have seen this part of the forest before."


    True, the orange red foliage and wide rushing river looked to match the outside scenery of the woods much more than the stable artificial gardens that Gable kept. But what''s to say this isn''t just another really good illusion? He''s even got the morning wind down, brrr it''s chilly when one first wakes up.


    "Do you recognize where we are then? Or where we''re going? There''s no giant waterfall coming up right?"


    "I think so? There''s nothing dangerous I think? And the water is stable, I don''t hear any increase in the water? But Lukas would know this area better."


    "ZzzzzzzzZzz"


    We look down at our hope and guide with different expressions, but the same conclusion. We gotta wake up Lukas.


    "How is he still asleep?" I wonder to which Amar shrugs, poking the sleeping lump repeatedly. I try smacking the sleeping boy, at first lightly, and then more violently.


    Nope, nothing. It''s a log. He twitches a bit but rolls over and continues cutely snoozing. His fluffy hair even poofier from bedhead. Actually I think all of us have a case of kiddy bed head, I definitely got an eye booger to rub off.


    "What are the chances he''s gonna flail and fall off?" I ask, giving up on smacking to rub the sleep fully from my eyes.


    "Mmmmm probably worse than you did? But he has better balance and reactions? So he won''t fall, just rock a lot." The other boy leans back, eyeing the passing rapids thoughtfully.


    I look back and forth between a sleeping Lukas and the deceptively cold morning water. It''s not that deep but, hmm. A passing fancy, one that nice little children in possibly dangerous situations should not have, crosses my mind.


    "Ahhh, I see.....hey wanna dunk him in the water?"


    "Yeah. "


    "Great, how do you wanna do this?"


    "Hold his head? Shirt? I''ll get the feet, it''s heavier."


    Happy Birthday, Lukas.


    Since we''re already here might as well take advantage of the situation and the elements. What''s a sleepover without a bad prank? As long as I''m not the one being pranked. Also I maybe sorta blame Lukas. There really was no way Gable didn''t know or find out later on. This has got to be some punishment, grampa style. I had another near heart attack upon waking up.


    So after rolling the sleeping lump to the edge and making sure we were both steady, we positioned and dipped the brat. Not headfirst exactly but close? On his side?


    "YAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! COLD COLD COLD!!!"


    Good news, Lukas is awake.


    Bad news, he splashes like a performing seal and obviously everyone was in splash zone.


    Kinda good news? Upon his amazing wake up call, he''s frozen a quarter of the river around us so that we rest on an icy bank. Our own little glacier.


    I may need a change of clothes asap but I must say it was worth it. Lukas screamed like an angry cat to the bath. And from this experiment, it is confirmed that yes, the frosty boy can still feel cold. How interesting.


    "Oi! You guys!" He screeches, sopping wet and looking every bit the drowned cat he sounds like.


    "Oh good we got to you in time! You were rolling in your sleep." starts Amar.


    "Yeah! We tried to wake you but it didn''t work. We were trying to figure out where we were when all of a sudden you were at the edge." With no further prompting needed, I play along.


    "I know you can swim but it''s still really bad to fall in."


    "Yeah, you just kept rolling!"


    "I didn''t think you would fall off?"


    "It was really concerning, do you always sleep like that? Do you fall off your bed a lot Lukas?."


    "Sorry I wasn''t quick enough to catch you. I didn''t notice and Rosa was scarred."


    "Here I have, uh a towel in my baggie? And a sweater!"


    "Whoa thanks for making us a path back to land Lukas! Your magic is really amazing."


    Lukas'' isn''t suspicious at all as he looks back and forth between us, pouting and teeth chattering through it all.


    "Of course I''m amazing, ahhh cold cold. Geeez I hate waking up by water, normally it''s only a bucket''s worth. Ah cold cold, where are we?"


    "You know better than we do Lukas. Do you recognize these parts of the woods?" I ask, throwing layers of towels at him.


    I almost feel bad for the kid, he''s getting caught up and fooled so easily by us. But it was funny.


    There there Lukas, dry off. I am always prepared as long as I have my space baggie. Don''t ever want to be caught without nothing, again. Isn''t this just a bottomless purse?


    I do note to be cautious of anything that ever comes out of Amar''s mouth though. That was too smooth. Mischevious child number two showing his true colors, what a liar.


    "Hmm we''re at the river duh." responds Lukas, drying off.


    His little head turning fluffier and fluffier through friction. I roll my eyes at the very helpful answer while Amar innocently smiles and helps the other boy dress into something dry.


    "But where at the river?" I droll, adequately redressing myself. Yay for infinite space bag, I don''t know what I''d do without this cheat of a thing.


    "You know! Oh wait know you don''t. Um, not that far away, not if you go by boat."


    "By boat? So we''re far from the house, got it." I reason. How long have we been merrily floating down this lazy river?


    "Are we near any of the fishing spots?" asks Amar, eyes already scouting out across the water.


    Since we already made it this far, might as well. But is no one but me bothering about this messed up situation? Don''t be so easy going you brats!


    "Do we even know where they are? And if this isn''t an illusion, then why are we out here?"


    Lukas closes his eyes and nods like he''s deep in though, though it looks more like a child copying someone elses action than anything. He resolutely nods, opening his eyes and founding his fists.


    "I see. It''s a test!" shouts the boy.


    "....really now....this...surprise is a test?"


    "Yep! I bet Cap'' and Gable are testing me on something! Or maybe Cap'' got worried I would beat him on fishing! So he set us off super early so we couldn''t prepare! Well jokes on them because we did!"


    Right, sure.


    As unbelievably far fetched as Luka''s theory is, with my grandpa I really can''t say. The old man is insane. It won''t be the first time he launched a kid into a dangerous thing and it probably won''t be the last.


    "We still have the gear we hid under the bed." remarks Amar, pulling out a mix of netting and rods that I didn''t store in my baggie.


    "So that''s it? Grampa really did set us off huh?"


    "Looks like it."


    "Challenge accepted! Let''s get to fishing! Onwards!"


    "Can we go ashore real quick? I have to pee." raises Amar, pointing to the ice path leading to land.


    It looks solid enough but who knows? Not like we have much choice unless Lukas wants to freeze more roads for us. I too have the bladder of a toddler and consumed a copious amount of soda last in the middle of the night. Nature''s pretty and all out here but it calls.


    "Yeah, me too." I echo.


    "Okay okay okay fine, break. I gotta go too. Did anyone pack breakfast or something?"


    You know for a bunch of brats left in the woods we''re handling this pretty well. Lilyanne would be left crying by the whole situation. Which is a good thing she isn''t here. Grampa really did just gather us up and dropped us out here in the middle of nowhere again.


    After a quick relieving trip to our designated trees and a forced hand washing, we''re back in the dingy bed floatie. Going by river is much faster, and lazier, than walking.


    "Okay now push!"


    "....Can''t you just unfreeze us Lukas?"


    "Yes-no- I don''t know! But onwards!"


    Guess unfreezing is the next lesson for our Jack Frost. No use in complaining. After the boys smack the surrounding ice loose a bit, we can push off and be on our merry way.


    Geez I can''t believe Gable let grampa get away with this but hey, if we''re out here then it must be fine.


    It really is a pretty day out, still cold though.


    Huh what was that? A fish? Steer this thing that way guys! Here fishy fishy, come to my tummy. I have a sashimi craving and you''re gonna fufill it.


    "Hey wait I have a question. Where are we going to store caught fish? In here?"


    ---


    ------


    Meanwhile:


    ------


    "Ron....where are the children?" asked Gable, carrying a bubbly little girl in his arms.


    His sudden appearance caused Ronald to stop his sneaking. Instead, he just settled for securing his pack, stuffing a last piece of pastry into his mouth.


    "....In bed?"


    "No they''re not, for I was just in Luka''s room."


    "....they''re definitely still in bed."


    "...and where IS the bed?"


    "....On a floatie?"


    "The thing you were testing out?"


    "...yes?"


    "....and where- per say- is your floatie?"


    "....on the water?"


    "Where on the water?!?!"


    "Well I assume from the flow of the river, down thaaaaaaaat way."


    Ronald gestured to the general direction, downstream of where the nearby major river would flow.


    "You floated the children down the river!!!?"


    "Noooo I placed them on the floatie, on the water and ....then they floated down themselves."


    "They did now did they? All by themselves? Without you?"


    "Um...yes?"


    Gable''s eyebrow was doing that twitching thing, but he couldn''t attack. Not when there was an innocent witness in the room. Also not when he needed Ronald to actually go out there to retrieve the kids, he sure as hell wasn''t doing it.


    "Why for god''s sake would you do that?!"


    "I didn''t mean to! I thought it would be fun and adorable to tug them along on the float by boat! It was going to be a surprise! A ''wake up and look, we''re at the fishing spot already! Isn''t this nice!" But while I wasn''t looking the floatie....got loose."


    "You lost the kids, who are all sugared out unconscious, to float downstream?!!!"


    "Gaaaaabe, it''s not like there''s a major waterfall or anything...they''ll be fine. I would think they''d be fine...they have Rosa? Yeah it''s fine. I''ll catch up to them reeeeal soon."


    Even with a baby in his arms Gable looked threatening, ready to wring his neck. Which is fun and all but not right now? It was kinda nostalgic really, like when Maria was small!


    "When!? What did you lose them and why are you not out there catching them!?"


    "I was hungry? Thought the kids would like lunch later? Or breakfast, time is weird. "


    "They will BE lunch to some of those migrating fish."


    "Ehhh they''ll get out before they''re digested, Ack kidding kidding, going now! Bye Lily baby! Bye Gabbey baby!"


    "Go before I turn you into fish food."


    "Going!"


    The blond paces to slam the door shut after the other man. He was so glad he never had kids, less stress if Ronald was in the picture.


    "Hehe bye bye fishy grampy! Pway?" giggles and squinting little toddler.


    Even if they were cute.


    -----


    ---


    Bonus:


    "Amar that''s now how we''re supposed to do it!" complains Lukas, pole in hand, waiting on the fish to bite.


    Our storage problem is somewhat solved after we settled ourselves to park to bed floatie in a decent spot. It only took over half an hour to find a great one. Nice grassy bank, some nearby shady trees to park under, and lots prey swimming around. How delicious looking.


    "Rosalia tell him!"


    "Tell him what?"


    "That''s not the way the commander showed us to fish! They don''t count!"


    "Which ways count then? I wasn''t here for the rules."


    The boy beside me puffs up a little to repeat what must have been grampa''s wise words.


    "It''s a battle. A battle of timing, and precision and ultimately strength! When they bite, reel them in but don''t attack until you see the white of their eyes!"


    "What is that even supposed to mean?"


    "Like I know! I''ll crack it eventually. Anyways back me up and tell Amar he can''t do that!"


    I''m confused but anything grampa related tends to have that effect on me. Instead of really responding I go back to trying to properly light this fire. Fish is great and all but fishing bores me, just sitting around waiting. Fishing is a patient sport and I think we''re all the wrong kind of people for that. Lukas especially, he''s practically vibrating in his seat.


    Besides, I don''t think this is the right spot for this kind of fishing.


    "I don''t know Lukas, he might be on to something."


    "There''s no pole! You have to wait and pull at the pole."


    "Sure...if they weren''t hopping around everywhere. Yo Amar! How many did you catch so far!"


    Out in the middle of the shallow river, utterly soaked to his waist trudge Amar with a net of fat squirming multicolored fish. He''s gonna have to come back to shore soon to unload since his sole net was filling up.


    "I don''t know? 20? You guys should come out here and try it! They just jump right at you!"


    True to his words a bright red thing comes shooting at the boy''s face, to which he gratefully accepts to throw into the net. Fast reflexes catching the thing easily before it slaps him. Not the cleanest way of catching fish but I can''t see the problem when it''s free.


    Much more productive than just....waiting.


    "Gee and how much did you get Lukas?~" I tease.


    "You didn''t get any either." the boy mumbles grumpily, his little ego hurting.


    "Right, they''re just not biting over here. Hey what if we tried say going in the middle, where all the action is?"


    By we I mean you, I''m short. Those flying fish really will smack me in the face. Hell, they''ll eat me whole.


    "We''re going for the biggest one....big" he grumbles.


    "I don''t think that''s an issue if you do it Amar style."


    "Huh what makes you so sure of that? You kept saying last night we were gonna scare the fish away."


    Instead of answering, I point back to our MVP fisherman, who has literally turned into a fish kid.


    Sorry to be more accurate, a fish with a gigantic mouth hopped out to possibly eat the boy. It''s huge. Not as big as the model Lukas showed us last night but back enough to engulf the head and upper body of 5 year old.


    "I caught a big one!" comes the fish boy''s muffled yelling, much to our astonishment.


    "That''s it!" screeches Lukas, pulling off his shoes and flinging his socks before splashing his way in. Go Lukas go! Go get your fish! I''m rooting for you!


    "But can you bring those one ashore first?"


    Especially that big one? You know the one trying to eat Amar''s head. I''m getting hungry here.


    But alas Lukas must barehandedly catch a few on his own before calming down enough to help bring Amar back to shore in the right direction. He can''t exactly see in that thing. Shouldn''t he try getting it off soon?


    "You''re right Lukas, this is fun!" exclaims Amar after we get breakfast, or is it lunch, to pop off of him. I don''t know, time is weird.


    "Lukas do you want to make an ice box or should I hold the catches? I can only fit the small ones though."


    I make to open my bag. Yes, only those that can fit through the mouth, this big fellow right here gets to be eaten fresh today.


    One solid ice chest later, we got somewhat of a system going on here. Some choice small fish have been stabbed with a stick and placed by the fire to roast. Not bad at all.


    "Can anyone slice something up? It doesn''t have to be the big one if we''re saving it." I request.


    "Yeah sure which one do you want?" gestures Lukas, lifting the lid.


    I hmmm and consider my options in the ice chest like I''m choosing a donut out the box. And not, a half dead fresh fish. I don''t know, what''s not poisonous here? Hmm what to choose? My brain trying to recall the fish classification lessons Lukas crammed into me yesterday. I do recognize a few but really, familiarity is best.


    Also cravings.


    "Hmm that one, the salm-err pink crested nerka!"


    With a flick of a knife that I''m not sure where it came from, Amar was quick to pick up, descale and debone the still squirming thing on a table of ice. Niiiiice.


    "Like this is fine?" he asks towards some clean cuts of orange pink fillets. I try indicating my desired cuts with my fingers.


    "Can you slice them up really thin, but not too thin. Say this much?" I gesture, hopefully clearly enough.


    "Well ok, that''s fine."


    "Are you making soup or something Rosalia? They''re too small like that to cook."


    Lukas looks curiously over as he pokes at a fire cooking fish that''s still not ready, as if it will make it cook faster.


    "Oh I''m not cooking them." I simply explain.


    "...what? Amar what did she say?"


    "You''re not...cooking them?"


    Ignoring their confusion I take the ice plate of perfect cuts of sashimi with a polite thanks and very much excitement out of his hands.


    My biggest shame is that I don''t have any soy sauce, or sushi rice or really any of the condiments to dip and enjoy this with. I have lemon though? Maybe balsamic salad dressing? Salmon is still really tasty on its own.


    Oh well, work with what you got!


    Breaking out my custom commissioned baby chopsticks, I have to hold back my drool. This taste I haven''t had in so long, finally!


    Time to eat!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Delicious! Fresh fatty salmon, or whatever this is, is really delicious! AH, I haven''t had sashimi in so long. Over two years! I''ve never been that long without sushi before. Glad to see these childish tastebuds can handle it just fine.


    Is it tastier because it''s been freshly caught or because I''ve been without for so long? This fattiness is just too good! There was never a good opportunity to requests my chefs to prepare sashimi for me!


    It taste good on the first bite but the more I chew, the more the deliciousness spreads through my mouth. Shame this one was a male and I couldn''t enjoy the roe- not like I have rice to properly eat them.


    Not only is this my first taste of salmon, pure fresh delicious salmon, in years. But it''s such a big amount! This would have been much more expensive at a sushi restaurant you know?


    So good, this fresh fatty richness is so amazingly good without being heavy or overbearing. These are the good points of sashimi! Should I try another? Maybe a white fleshed fish this time? That one over there kinda resembles a snapper? But salmon is just so good! I could keep eating this for a while.


    For some odd reason, the boys are clutching at each other with oddly terrified expressions. They''re even shaking! Why are they looking at me like I''m some sort of monster? How rude.


    This kind of reminds of that time I made the stupid prince pass out. Was that really a year ago? Ah good times.


    "It''s just fish guys, no need to be scared. It''s really delicious. You already eat it cooked on a plate. Hey, do you want to try some too?"


    Hey hey hey don''t back away like that!


    Trust me it''s really good!


    -----

 73 Sudden Rapids

    We''ve lost, utterly totally lost.


    It really wasn''t a competition in the first place, not if it''s against grampa. He doesn''t play fair or by common sense. Doesn''t matter who you are, how old you are, or what the challenge is. If you''re playing with grampa you''re gonna have a bad time.


    But Lukas is a little fool that does not follow common sense, he''s just turned 6 after all.


    "No fair, we were set up! Cheated!"


    Grampa pats his wet little butt, making an unpleasant squishy sound, as he inspects the boy hanging from his fishing line.


    "Good to go here too! I knew you kiddos would make it out before you were digested- ow Gabe that''s a good thing!"


    It''s not just Lukas that''s soaked in water and fish saliva. Wait do fish even have saliva? Either way, whatever it secretes, we have all been lovingly soaked in it. I feel like we''ve been but through an automatic car wash but the results are obviously far from clean. No one is cute like this, no one.


    Yes drenched, drenched and dripping.


    Kind of hard to escape that when you''ve been swallowed whole.


    Is it mental recap time? About the loooooovely day I had? No traumatic memories here!


    I honestly thought we were doing alright for ourselves in out shallow little fishing zone. I really did. Food number and variety, and they were all easy catches. If I was a bit bigger I would certainly be out there myself trying my hand at this fishing contest. I mean all you have to do is hold the darn bag open and the fish come right in, dumb things. I hope they spawn quickly otherwise their population will suffer


    See the real trouble apparently someone got in trouble for ''losing'' us. How does someone lose sleeping kids that they kidnapped themselves? Huh? How does that even happen?


    How is my mother not dead from the infant mortality rate that is grampa?


    Perhaps Gable? Our butler Alfonso? Uncle Geoff? Probably a big part Gable, our family''s savior. Ah, I really wish we could trade grampa out for him. Lucky Lukas, though realistically I know he can''t have it easy either.


    But that''s an issue for the future, it''s important to enjoy one''s childhood when you still have it no? Or well, try to.


    In grampa''s rush to find us ''lost'' children he enlisted the help of the local wildlife. Like some fairy tale corporate princess. Yes , he got animals to find us. This isn''t what I was talking about when I said ''childhood''.


    Couldn''t he have just followed the river?! I mean it''s only going in one direction? Where else would we be?


    It would have been fine if they just located us and told grampa where we were. Like some nice little Cinderella Snow-white sorta friendly animal companions.


    But noooooooooooooooo.


    Grampa apparently never specified what he wanted to find us for!


    And his anxious tone made all his little woodland friends very upset and concerned....


    ...Squirrels.


    We were attacked by hundreds, possibly thousands of squirrels. They''re kinda like rats with the big teeth and long tails but are considered cuter due to fluff. I, however, have seen a shaved squirrel at least once in my life and have since considered them rats essentially. They''re like rat cousins who live in trees.


    So fluffy rats. I, a small mochi soft little toddler with tiny legs was chased down by a hoard of fluffy rats!


    I didn''t even get to finish my precious sashimi! The fluffy rat army came out of nowhere! Sure the boys sensed something and had a quick conversation that went something like :


    "Do you hear that?"


    "What? Oh it''s just the squirrels."


    "Squirrels? This many?"


    "Maybe they smell the fire and fish Amar. Don''t tell me you''re scared of squirrels?"


    Yes Lukas, I at the very least am very afraid of the squirrels now. Thank you for asking. From the way we all screamed I think it''s safe to say we should all be afraid of the damn squirrels of this world. No one told me they assembled like a hoard from the black plague.


    Even if I was older or faster, you can''t outrun them. This is their territory! They''re everywhere!!!


    Trust me, we tried and I got motion sickness from the almost comedic attempt. Not that I''m not grateful for not leaving me behind but please don''t treat me like a sack of flour. Please especially do not throw me back and forth mid-high-speed chase like a doomed pumpkin. A normal toddler would have passed out in shock, possibly even die! Ah but it can''t be helped in this case


    If a tree exists, so does a family of squirrels. And we are in a forest, do the math.


    There''s no point in fighting a number of rats this high either. Everyone knows that even Lukas and he supposedly shares DNA with the stupid prince. That''s saying something.


    He does still think the fluffy rats are cute so that''s another mental point deducted. Refused to just freeze the darn things. I bet he thinks a wild beast trying to eat us is still cute as long as it''s fluffy.


    It was very tragic abandoning our big catches but it was either the fish or us. Damn what is it with me and getting surrounded by hoards of small annoying possibly deadly creatures?


    Luckily the hair tailed rats had a great weakness! They can''t swim. Thus we booked it back to the raft and even further downstream. Good plan right?


    They had to stop chasing us eventually, all they could do was line the river bed. So long as they were there we stayed on the bed raft floating our merry way. The water got deeper and there were still fluffy ruts on land. The water got faster and they were still there. The water eventually turned into a rapids ride that was honestly pretty fun to sit through I admit, but the fluffy rats with their threatening buck teeth were still there!


    Cursed creatures, I think they ate one of my shoes.


    Mental note to requests the chefs for roast squirrels when I get back home. Actually the troop''s kitchens, let''s have a squirrel stew day. Who knew there were so many living here?


    I can''t say for how long or how far we rode down the river. Far enough to reach a basin sort of lake.


    Not yet to the ocean, perhaps there was a dam or drain in place. Surely damns must exist here right? I don''t know enough about the structures outside the capital or major cities, it''s hard to say.


    While riding the amusement park rocky rapids down to the lake basin wasn''t so bad, even if I did go flying at one point before I was caught and tied down by the boys, we just couldn''t approach land. Those fluffy rats were lurking on the tree tops, scoping us out and ready to attack. It was a very strange and rather hopeless situation.


    I did the only thing a girl in my shoes, or well just one shoe, could do.


    I took a nap.


    It makes sense!


    I mean, if the raft is already a comfortable bed, and one is literally stranded in the middle of nowhere, it''s a rather reasonable course of action. That and I was exhausted from just screaming in general and being carried like a little sack of potatoes.


    It wasn''t even me who started it. Sometimes the brats have good ideas. They''re how old? Kindergarten age? Nap times are the best times. Everything agrees on nap time.


    Though I am 38% sure they initially faked falling asleep to get out of eating sashimi.


    Cowards.


    Didn''t you two say you were hungry earlier? If we add oil or other condiments it becomes crudo rather than sashimi! That''s probably more fitting for this vaguely European like land. The possibilities are endless with all these freshwater catches! Do you know how much salad dressed I have? We''re set for a crudo buffet as long as someone cuts up the fish.


    No wait, make it 50%. I''m 50% sure they faked it since Amar was the first one to start yawning and actually dozing. Brats, both of them, but that one is especially tricky sometimes. I wasn''t asking for much, just take out those butcher skills of yours and slice up some crudo. Come on guys, it''s really tasty.


    But who am I to ruin nap time?


    We all didn''t sleep that much the previous night and it was a chilly autumn day. Perfect sort of day to huddle under layers of blankets. The sunshine gently peeking in and out from the clouds as the light waves on the lake rocked the floating bed along.


    If anything were to happen during nap time I think the kindergartners beside me would be enough to handle it. So I felt it perfectly fit to fall asleep for the afternoon.


    Children have it so good with their daily naps. I almost envy Lilyanne for how many times I come back from sneaking out or tinkering only to find her off in sleepy time. I think it evens out. I eat more, she sleeps more. Right?


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Just for a little bit, just for these few years. I think I can afford to have something of childhood for once.


    Up to this point, it doesn''t sound so bad, fluffy rat chase and all. I got some sashimi, a free water rapid ride, and a nice nap with some free kindergarten sized heaters. Definitely not as sticky as Lilyanne. Certainly, I''ve been through worse. This was actually almost childishly enjoyable.


    Till grampa showed up.


    Now by all reason that should have been fine, good even. Grampa''s here, he could call of his hoards of squirrels which to this point I had no idea he could do. The great hero was so damn loved by woodland animals to the point they''ll ferally attack kids for him, wow. Worst capitalist corporation princess ever, he doesn''t even come with a pretty dress.


    For now. This gives me an idea for petty revenge and a way to recycle some of mother''s overflowing closet. They have about the same bust size right? No, perhaps grampa is overall bigger hmmm.


    Wait what was I saying?


    "You were still storytelling about what happened after we woke up." piped up Amar as he was getting magically heat and towel dried by the camp fire. Gable was obviously doing a much better job than grampa in the clean up department. In the not so far background, Lukas screams something that almost resembles profanity at my grampa


    I''m glad the world''s worse car wash comes with a nice dryer afterward. A slightly irritated Gable nodded towards me before going back to mildly glaring death rays at grampa while dry roasting us back into proper cute children. Gable was obviously doing a much better job than grampa in the cleanup department. In the background, Lukas screams something that almost resembles profanity at whatever torture grampa is putting him through.


    Nearby Lilyanne''s head pops in and out of from her bassinet swing that''s been tied between two close trees, occasionally giggling out at me.


    Ah yes my audience!


    "Oh yeah. Ok now stop interrupting me."


    "But you asked first?"


    "Shussssh, I''m telling Gable the very worst part!"


    "Oh okay."


    There I was, content enough to play along to catch up on sleep and recharge myself. What was a perfectly fine nap was ruined by a certain crazy old man''s loudspeaker voice. From the shore, he boomed and waved like a lunatic. But it''s not like anything he said was comprehensible.


    At least the furry tailed rats were called off, that much I could see.


    But of course things would only get worse. As always I was the last the sense anything was wrong and by the time I got my bearing, the mostly still water was oddly rocking in increasingly violent waves.


    "Oh poop, we should paddle." sputtered Lukas as he shook himself out of his sleep burrito.


    "I don''t think we have time for that?" warned Amar, holding us both down from getting up and getting a better look at our surroundings.


    "We''ll paddle, no kick really fast!"


    "I don''t think you''ll want to soon?"


    The water was beginning to bubble at that point but it certainly wasn''t heating up or boiling so....


    "What''s going on?" I gulped in my seat, because really what is someone like me supposed to do? It''s pretty good I''m not screaming anymore at that point.


    What worse? A classic ominous jaws moment of getting chased down by feral fluffy rats? I say the damn squirrels but this was still bad, very very bad.


    "Lukas? Some cover?!" Amar''s sleepy voice got a lot more urgent as a dark shadow below seemed to grow larger and larger in the water.


    "What cover!?!"


    The other boy panicked, quickly looking north east south and west for something. Grampa''s yelling of ''heeeeeey'' providing the worst background noise as we plead at the only magic user to do something.


    "Ice! Shield?! Make it thick! Cover us now!"


    "Your ice magic you dolt!!!"


    Lukas dared to give us a lost and a little insulting look before it hit him.


    "Ice? What? How is ice going to help right now- ooooooooh that ice."


    "Yes yes that ice! Go!"


    I wanted to smack him at that moment but child abuse is bad and I don''t dare to distract or push the kid overboard right at the moment. Also, I''m pretty sure Amar had a good enough grip on the both of us to stop any infighting.


    "Now Lukas!" he shouted, pressing us low so w were all on our stomaches to cling down.


    I couldn''t see how he did it when my vision was just rocking and then darkness. A spark and a icy white blue glow from Luka''s direction was my only relief before we were sent flying upwards.


    I wish I could have seen what grampa saw, I really do. What type of marine creature was it? Exactly how big this thing? What color was it? Was it entertaining to watch?


    Because it sure wasn''t fun getting punted into the air and swallowed whole but a giant gaping set of jaws! Back to being a football, Lukas had created a cover alright. One that turned our raft into an intimate little snowglobe with thick icy walls. So instead of being separated into the air, water and possibly giant teeth, we rolled around somewhat painfully in a partial human hamster ball.


    Never go hamster balling with other people in your ball, even if they''re small soft and squishy. It''s very dangerous and potentially bone cracking to roll with others. Thank goodness we were very cushioned in there from the bedding.


    "What''s hamster balling? What did I miss?"


    "I don''t know but I think you have to make your ice shield like earlier but into a big ball? With someone inside? And then you roll around?


    "What? That sounds awesome!"


    "That actually does sound fun. Can we try that later?"


    Child abuse is bad but as I smaller child I take a damp towel to twist and snap at the talkative brats interrupting my story.


    "Shush! No more talking until I''m done!...But can we make a big ice ball later? It just needs little airholes because that earlier thing sucked to breathe in- and ack sorry Gable! Where was I?"


    Straight down into crunching cracking darkness we went. Our descent as smooth as can be in the snowglobe as we slid down its dark pink throat and deeper into its inner cavity. We were eaten alive, but we were still safe.


    It was complete darkness untill Lukas pulled out a familiar glowing jar of moss. The ice truly forming a barrier between us and the icky gooey substances secreting from the living walls that now surrounded us. It was terrifying and honestly pretty wickedly fascinating how the walls were made of muscle and blood vessels. They were squirming around all gross and stuff and something disgustingly yellow that I assumed was stomach acid or bile dripped like stalagmites in some flesh cave. Like ew but cool!


    Ah... I sounded like the boys for a moment there. I must be hanging out with them too long. Moving on.


    With some light and time to calm down we could exhamine our situation and plan our escape. The ice but air was definitely an issue. Still, it was precious time and we put our head together. Not literally, that''s painful.


    "I keep telling you there two ways, in or out."


    "We''re not getting pooped out Lukas."


    "In or out Rosalia! The enter or the exit!"


    "Then let''s make it barf us out! We''re too big to get pooped out in here, wait no I don''t want to be pooped out at all."


    "Entrance it is! Now how? Should I punch it a lot or something?"


    "No you dolt that would break the ice keeping up from touch...all this."


    "But if we can''t hit it, then it won''t get sick and bleeeack us out! And then we have to wait a super long time for it to-"


    "We are not getting pooped out!"


    Caught in the middle of our very serious discussion plan, Amar raised a hand.


    "Can''t you just freeze the fish? Maybe it will spit us back out that way? If not, keep freezing and we can just, pick and break our way through? Lukas can freeze and Rosa probably has some tools in her baggie. If we hit the water then Lukas can just freeze enough of something to get out? I mean we could swim but it''s cold and Rosa''s really small."


    "...."


    "...."


    "Guys?"


    "...."


    "...."


    "Was it that bad a plan?"


    "...no, yeah that works." I nodded with a shrug.


    "Obviously it''s like my idea to make this thing sick but with my ice, but you just said it a little better," exclaimed Lukas, patting the other boy on the back.


    " Not bad, best idea we got so far." I agreed.


    Just as I was about to look into by space bag for something we could use, a strong force knocked us all off to one side. Then another! It felt like an earthquake, a bomb, a horrible attack. But it was something much worse than an earthquake, than any of that! Something far more terrifying than any beast big enough to eat us alive. It was...


    "Me!!!"


    "Grampa! You ruined it! Actually wait yes it was you!!! Gable, it was all gramps, he beat us up inside the giant fish belly till it spat us out and swam away! We were nice and safe in there but he cracked and smashed us silly!"


    Complaining and tattling are all I can do now.


    Gable please punish him! Gable please keep me and adopt me too! Please! Grampa shouldn''t be left with small children, ever!


    Somehow Lilyanne is fine, because of course, no one does stupid crazy things with Lilyanne. I bet no one would throw Lilyanne like a pumpkin. Noooooo, it''s just me that''s put in ridiculous heart stopping near-death experiences.


    I''m not really magically inclined nor am I a monster like the boys or troops, I can''t survive this kind of shit. Please have mercy on me!


    Like the magical otherworldly being that he is, a few comforting pats from Gable seeps the frustration and anger away from me little by little. It''s so nice staying in his embrace that I don''t even notice that I''ve been fully changed into clean new clothes or get my hair brushed up. I''m still very indignant on many things from today, especially the fluffy rats, but somehow Gable seems to make me feel that it''s going to be alright. Or at the very least he''ll punish grampa in the most effective and personalized way. Which is honestly good enough for me.


    "There there, you did well today. You all did very well today."


    Ah praise from Gable is the best, lightens the heart and soul. It''s even more effective and powerful than Lilyanne''s famous smile in the future. That or it doesn''t work on the same sexes or sisters...No Gable is the best and prettiest, that much is clear to anyone with eyes.


    "But we didn''t pass the test" sulks Lukas, which gets Gable frowning again.


    No bad Lukas, you stop that! I don''t know what you did in 2 seconds but fix it!


    "What test Lukas?"


    "I don''t know, the secret test. There''s always some secret tests and Cap gives contests and I was gonna catch the biggest fish today and!!! But I got ate by the biggest fish...so I couldn''t have won anything this time...."


    "Lukas, look at me, there is no test. There was never any test nor anything to win." sighed Gable a little too softly.


    "There''s always something being tested."


    The normally loud boy drawled out in a dejected tone that didn''t fit his age or personality at all. It''s unnerving. I don''t think he''s just upset at losing a fishing contest. I don''t think it''s as simple as it sounds, ever.


    But then he started pouting cutely and ow oh ow. The uncomfortable thoughts piecing together in my brain makes way for the uncomfortableness of cuteness. Cuteness rules the world and oh boy Lukas definitely got something from the same genetic pool Gable came from because ow. It''s like looking at an adorable mistreated little kitten. Even if it''s a mischievous and troublesome thing, the moment it gets quiet or looks so pathetically sad you have no control over yourself anymore.


    Ow ow ow, ok fine, what do we do to fix it?


    I look around me, briefly shrugging at Amar before following Gable''s line of sight when he finally stops staring concernedly at Lukas. Then we both know exactly what''s going to happen. Let''s just blame grampa.


    "Ronald fix this." growls Gable, tone hardening immediately.


    "Gable what is there to fix? I mea-"


    "Fix it!"


    "But-"


    "Now!"


    Somehow even more affected than I am, forcefully cradling Lukas like a slightly overgrown pet as if to shield him from the world. Is it the paternal instinct? Cuteness really does rule everything.


    "Hey, uh, look kiddo...Lukas. There''s no test, really. We...we''re not looking to test you on anything, you don''t have to prove anything to us. I just make too many contests because it''s fun and there are people to actually do those things with and wow but- oh crap I''m not good at this."


    "Ronald."


    "Yes Gabe, I mean, Lukas there''s nothing to worry about. There''s no test to pass except when Gable makes you memorize stuff out of books because wow does he love that but its good for you and he wants the best for you so"


    "Ron."


    "Sorry sorry where was I going with this again? It''s....well this was supposed to be fun, just fun. A break and all that. Because it''s your birthday and you been doing good lately. Since you came here you''re been giving it your all and...no..."


    Something about grampa''s fumbling demeanor seems to change, shifting from my usual old man to the person I don''t really know all that well. Is it the hero? The Lord commander? Someone else in there? I don''t know, but it''s gentle when it reaches out to the oddly quiet boy.


    "Since I''ve first accepted you into the troops, you have always been giving it your all. You try so hard at everything and you make sure people notice, notice you. And it''s good, it''s really good to have drive, to want. There''s nothing wrong with wanting...but you don''t have to try so hard with us. WIth me, with Gable. WIth any of us, that genuinely cares about you. Not just when it''s your birthday but every day. Do you understand kiddo? There will never be a test with us, nothing to prove because you are enough and worth so much more than any test, no matter the results. "


    "That...that''s not what I-"


    Lukas tries squirming his way out of Gramp''s ruffling hand, out of Gable''s hold but it''s futile. The boy doesn''t look physically hurt but there''s something wet and leaking from his eyes. He''s overwhelmed and clawing like a cornered animal.


    It''s something that hits a lot too close to home for me. I don''t even know why I''m still here, watching this. I feel like I''ve intruded into something though I''ve been here the whole time. I hear no peep of Lilyanne in her bassinet except for her soft breathing, my eyes flickering to confirm she''s fallen asleep again.


    I don''t get more than two steps backward when I bump into something, or someone stopping my tracks.


    As if he were always there in the first place, Amar is suddenly behind me. With a shushing motion, his finger to a slightly smiling mouth, whatever question or concerns I have dies on my tongue. I comply and continue to keep silent, not daring to interrupt whatever is going on.


    But we don''t leave. Quietly with his hands on my shoulders, the older child easily leads me slightly out of the way of this obviously intimate moment but still remaining very much a part of it.


    It was Gable''s turn to speak up, as soft as his voice was.


    "Whatever you were led to believe before, about yourself or your place in the world, it doesn''t matter. There are no tests. This is not that place, this is not what you''ve only known before. You will always be welcome here and with me. What Ronald said was right. You are home, this can be home if you want it to be. You don''t have to do anything or be anything more, you can just stay."


    For such a normally louder than life child, Lukas is staying shockingly quiet as he cries. I fear he''ll break skin with the way he bites his lip white, at how he claws in an escape, losing strength at each word from the adults.


    "You''re wanted, you''re seen, you exist. I''m sorry I didn''t see you before, couldn''t get to you sooner. But I do want you very much now. So thank you Lukas. Thank you for being born."


    It''s like a dam breaking. The first cry a baby makes when it comes out into the world. Slow, leaking and then and full burst.


    Lukas wails something ugly and a little feral, full-on crying with everything he has. Just like he always apparently done, gives his 100%. It''s loud, messy and extremely unpleasant to hear but it''s so much more relieving than that weirdly silent child trying to escape.


    I can''t see the expression Gable''s making, his face full pressed into Luka''s mussed up hair, far paler than his own light blonde. He must be crying too, from how his shoulders tremble and shake. Still, he doesn''t show any sign of letting go of the snotty bawling brat in his arms.


    "Thank you for being born and finding us. Thank you for staying so bright through it all."


    Grampa lets out a kind of tired sigh that sounds far better suited on Gable usually. His face I can actually see and it suits him so well that I don''t like it.


    I want my weird useless grampa back. Not this man whose wet brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets hidden in dark drawers, the warm wood unassuming yet carefully built and locked. Whose rough steady hands, skin tanned almost golden, reach out to hold and support the two sobbing people as if he were a protective and nurturing blanket. I don''t like how solid he looks, stable as the ground below me, back broad and stronger than any shield.


    I don''t want to confront this intrusive feeling from within me. This thing I''ve long identified as wanting, even before grampa''s out of character speech earlier. Ah, these are the remnants of the original good''s heart huh?


    Silly girl, did you want to be comforted like that? Held like that? By that crazy old man?


    Can''t be helped, he was your very much admired grandfather once. But did you have to be so selfish oh ghost of Rosalia? This moment, these tears and grievances have nothing to do with you and yet you immediately make them about you. It''s a very ugly feeling and realization. Geez this is why everyone but that foolish Lilyanne detested you, don''t you know?


    Little ghost girl, please rest for real, please find peace elsewhere. I don''t need your still bleeding heart beating in this tiny body ok?


    I''m the one breathing life in it and I got more than enough to carry.


    There''s a secret story unknown to the past Rosalia right in front of me. It stars a very beautiful and powerful man with a past he''s been running away from and a fairytale boy who must hide the fact that he''s the unwanted bastard son of a queen. These are tragic stories that deserve better, these are main character potential.


    I breathe evenly, careful not to make any unnecessary sound or movements that may disturb this moment. It must have been a long time coming for these two. A very very long time for Gable, but a terribly prominent burden on someone as young as Lukas. There''s a tragic story in that brat despite all his antics and innocence.


    The Lukas in the original timeline, what was he like? I don''t know enough, all I can remember is the tall man who blocked my way to freedom. Maybe for a moment, his eyes wavered, when he saw my blood and wounds. He didn''t lay a hand let alone a weapon on me, but he just...stood there.


    But for the most part, didn''t people just stand and watch me fall? Watch me die passively?


    I wonder what will change in this boy? I trust Gable but that doesn''t necessarily extend to Lukas, though it is clear to me now just how much importance he has in Gable''s heart. Ah the lives of main characters are just so complicated.


    It''s fine to sit back and let things be for now right? I''m still very much a child and without worries for the time being. So shut up little ghost, I''m going to live my best life I can and that starts with having a childhood.


    "Happy Birthday kiddo, maybe we said it a lot already but you''ll hear it even more. This year and the next. The year after that and after that and so it goes." whispers the man who is supposed to be my grampa.


    He actually looks very tender right now, and dare I say it, handsome? As buffoonish as he is, I can see how he naturally draws attention, just as Lilyanne will. A hero, a man like him, seems to glow to us regular people.


    As if gracing me with his attention those deceptively warm brown eyes lands on me. Right now they''re something dazzling in a way Lilyanne''s shining amber could never seem to imitate. As always I can''t read him. He''s too confusing too eccentric of a character to crack.


    "What are you two being strangers for, get over here!"


    "...Ron."


    "What? I''m fixing him? Group hug!"


    And he''s back, weird gross grampa is back and the tension is greatly eased. It''s both relieving and disappointing.


    "We should get over there before Cap'' grabs us." comes the other childish voice behind me.


    Even though I knew he was there earlier, it still surprised me. For several moments it felt like he wasn''t even here. I heard nor felt no trace of him, as if he had disappeared. For all I know he could have popped in and out in these few moments. Amar is sneaky like that.


    There''s something else suspicious about the other boy. He looks to be smiling genuinely at the emotional scene in front of me, happy for Lukas. Lukas is tragic and Amar has already known the whole drama.


    But normal kids don''t react that way. They don''t stay so calm and composed in something that should be awkward or at least initially confusing. This reaction, isn''t it a little too perfect? Ah this one is actually really really scary behind it all, isn''t he?


    Of course not that any of us here can be considered normal for whatever reason. Not my place to pry.


    "Ugh, fine. Before Grampa tries grabbing me again."


    "Lukas! Happy Birthday, even though this is kinda a weird place to say it. If we''re saying thanks for you being born then ok, thank you for existing and making everything a lot more fun!"


    "It''s super weird, ack gramps my lung! Happy Birthday... thanks for ...wanting to be my friend in the first place. You''re....cool I guess. Hey wait why are you crying even more again?!"


    "I think we broke him more?"


    "Oh...well then, grampa fix it!"


    "I''m trying! Should I hug even harder?"


    "No!"


    From behind a very overwhelmed crying boy, Gable trembles and shakes something even worse. But that''s okay, that''s his happy shake, Ronald can tell he''s smiling down there where no one can see. Shame, he loves it when Gable lets himself giggle and smile stupid. But this isn''t so bad either, holding so many precious things in his own arms, even if only for a moment.


    Because an unknown amount of time later, they''re disturbed by a different kind of astonishingly loud crying.


    "Hungwy! Waaaaaah huggy huggy! Lilwii too! Huggy! Yaaaaay!"


    -----

 74 A rivalry begins with an egg

    I thought grampa said yesterday that there''d be no more contests.


    Obviously, for reasons and background that I am not privy to, Lukas is traumatized by them in some capacity. Something I suspect fuels his youthful insecurity behind it all. But evidently that is not enough to stop the childish ambitions.


    "We need another contest! One that''s fair!"


    Children bounce back fast. Their emotions are an unpredictable roller coaster. After a tasty dinner of something other than fish, really we couldn''t stomach it last night, and an early night''s sleep Lukas has bounced back to his usual boisterous self. If he has any sense of shame or embarrassment from being seen crying his eyes out then he is either very good at moving on or has promptly forgotten it.


    There is also the possibility he has no such useless sense of shame because he is 6.


    "I''m the best! But not right now, because I''m 6! And Cap is like 500! Ha!"


    Wonderful reasoning going on there kindergartener, and I''m two going on three. Do we need to each shout out our ages? Though I think his math is a bit off at grampa''s age.


    At least he''s strong of spirit. That''s...honestly better than being down and depressed, even if his volume is pretty annoying at this hour. Can''t be helped.


    Why are we up this early? I don''t think even grampa is up yet. Grampa? Gable? Some adult supervision here? I don''t technically count, remember.


    "I''m sleepy." I let out a grumble.


    "Well wake up soon!"


    "I''m cold."


    "You''ll warm up!"


    I can''t win against this kid, it''s like trying to reason with ball of snow. A very very hyper ball. At best I can simply try to bribe or manipulate him.


    We may have gone to bed early but that''s no excuse to be up and out before the crack of dawn. Why do we let this kid do this to us? Where does he get his all his energy from? Is it a magic thing?


    "Is it time to eat soon?" yawns Amar, the other victim to whatever scheme Lukas has now.


    "Soon! The faster the better! Then we get to eat."


    Only Lilyanne is safe, snug and undisturbed in her crib. Meanwhile, the rest of us have literally been dragged out of bed and forced to wander outside the warm hobbit home.


    "Why are we out here?" I ask again.


    Because while he''s answered, maybe yelled, each question we have thrown at him, he somehow always avoids this one. I poke at a sleepy head Amar to get him to back me up, because I do not like being dragged out lost and in the dark.


    Sure I highly doubt Lukas is planning to murder me right here and now but who knows? Maybe we''ll adventure and trip our way to our deaths? We''ve already been eaten whole by a giant beast once. Why would fate stop at that?


    "Lukas *yawn* says, um he says another competition? So um, we''re doing something outside? Isn''t this the path to the chickens? Or is it the goat? I don''t know, Lukas tell us."


    The oldest boy finally breaks his badly kept silence, cracks like an egg for breakfast.


    "Cap can''t cook!"


    Well, that''s nice and irrelevant and- wait what? What is this information, this gossip I hear? The larger than life all-powerful hero that spends most of his life wandering and traveling across all sorts of lands, can''t what now? I need to confirm this immediately.


    "Gramps can''t cook?"


    "Nope!"


    "How do you know this?"


    "Uh duh, I live here. He''s set the kitchen on fire two times already when Gable wasn''t looking, and Gable is really good at looking or making sure Cap doesn''t touch fire."


    One, What? Two, Grampa is around that much? How dare he!


    "Is the lord commander really that bad? He''s okay when camping?" comes a curious comment from Amar, his eyes rolling up as if struggling to think of a time he''s ever seen my grampa cook.


    That''s right, how in the world did he survive all his life without some basic cooking skills? Surely this is just a joke. You can start a fire and roast something surely?


    At home, we have the chefs to handle our meals. In the troops, there''s the cafeteria. Here Gable is the one that magically fills up our plates, though he does make us run chores occasionally. Nothing new there. Grampa is just never in the right situation to need to do so?


    Sure I never have seen him even boil water but it can''t be that bad?


    "Uh yeah, he can cut bread or cheese. But he can''t make anything without burning or destroying it! But I can make eggs and stuff!"


    Amar gives a slow nod to Luka''s bragging, as confirming to himself that yes he can''t recall a single time the old man has ever tended to a stove, before casually asking.


    "Nothing?"


    "Nope! All burnt or really really bad!"


    "That''s weird."


    "Yeah I know right!"


    "I guess he has his secret storage spaces, like Rosalia''s baggie? The ones that can slow rotting or keep things good?"


    "It''s still something he can''t do!"


    Lukas is all hot air and childish insecurity issues that must run unreasonable deep, but he''s on to something interesting here. It''s not that big of a deal if it''s true but the more things to rub in grampa''s face the better.


    "So what you''re saying is, you''re going to compete with grampa in cooking?" I try making sense of the situation.


    "Yep! And this time Gable has to admit it! For real, this time. Everyone can see"


    "This time? So what are we doing outside the chicken coop?" repeats Amar.


    The wet and probably frozen grass crunch under our feet as we walk along, the weather beginning to truely get colder, at least in the early morning. Winter can''t be far away if the chill in the air is increasing each day.


    The sleep, even the chill is fading from me however when Amar''s earlier words register in my brain and match up to the surroundings. This path, this gate, it''s the way to a miniature hell. An elopement of demons.


    Oh my god no, not the chickens.


    "I''m going to beat commander so bad, with breakfast! Hahahahaha!!!"


    He''s insane, this child is absolutely insane and I am loathe to even forget it for a second. With a slam he opens the final enchanted gate and rushes into certain feathery doom. In my shock, I can''t react like a proper mature adult.


    "Lukas no!"


    I''m too slow, even if I wasn''t my shouts wouldn''t matter. The ruckus we made is more than enough. The gate slams and the chickens are awake, eyes honed in on us especially the boy rushing at them.


    We''re dead.


    Couldn''t Lukas have just gone through and kamikaze himself into egg duty by himself! But it''s far too late and I was careless in where we were heading, trusting too much in the kindergartners. This far in the mini dinosaurs must have already gotten our scents, each and every one of us.


    I feel like facepalming myself into the ground but settle for my hands.


    "And he''s gone." I''m not crying, I''m just very tired and sleepy.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "We should go help him."


    "No...let him get pecked to death first."


    "I think he''ll be shredded by their claws first? Is he carrying any feed?"


    "Let chickens eat him."


    I grumble out since we''re all doomed either way. Might as well let him take the first wave of pain and suffering. A warning into egg duty would have been nice. I bet they''re going to be extra aggressive today since it''s been a while. Really a warning to prepare myself both mentally and physically would have been very useful.


    Damn it I rather go milk the goat.


    I mean I could just try to stay back but the chickens are really annoying with their pack hunting. Who knew chickens pack hunted? Rather than mini T-rexes are they more related to raptors? I don''t know! After the initial charge and Lukas annoys them enough they''re going to identify us, stragglers, in the back and attack. Especially me, the smallest weak link.


    I hate egg duty. Yeah, let Lukas tire them out first, while he still can.


    "Let''s go get the feed? If we help him now it will go faster." leads Amar, wandering off to the sturdy tiny looking storage shed. I swear though it is much bigger in the inside. That''s a theme here huh?


    "Maybe I don''t want to help."


    "Hmm but you''ll get to go back inside and eat sooner?"


    "Oh fine, let''s get this over with. To the feed....and Lukas."


    My pettiness can''t win over the coaxing of common sense and getting the hell out of here. No one really wants to spend their early morning in the chicken coop. Too much poop and tiny rodent corpses. Besides we left him to the chickens by himself for like 30 seconds? He can take distracting them for another minute. That''s bound to leave some scratches.


    It takes 3/4th of an hour later before we can pass through and close the gate to the chicken enclosure again. Far longer than expected with not one but three kids, but we encountered some ...issues aka roosters.


    I struggle to relearn how to breathe normally again as the lock and seals to the coop are back in place, ensuring our safety. The eggs gave been placed in my baggie to avoid the crashing and smashing that was guaranteed to happen given the time we just had.


    I called it, knew the chickens would be crankier today.


    There is a reason I prefer ranged weapons, easy to wack and keep things at a distance. Only three or so chickens got into close range with me today. Not bad, not bad at all.


    While I am definitely sweating, scratched up and dirty, it''s not so bad. My physical condition has really improved over this year! All the drill sergeant time with Tamera and overall butt whooping is paying off!


    To be fair though the kindergarteners were helpful in preventing me from really getting hurt. They totally left me to roll in the mud though, literally. Can''t be too mad given that it''s every man, or well child, for themselves in the tiny dinosaurs'' coop.


    Lukas looks both the happiest and in the absolute worst condition. I may be covered in mud and Amar could probably make a whole new chicken with how many feathers are stuck on him, but Lukas takes the cake. As if someone though him in a giant blender, but with raptor chickens instead of blades.


    "We''ll be back!" screeches a boy so scruffed up anyone would mistake him as a cat toy.


    The beasts bouncing off the coop enclosure walls roar back in a frenzy of bloodlust not yet satisfied. Why can''t Gable raise normal livestock?


    "No we won''t, just you. Not me. No more chickens."


    As the only (mental)adult and the great holder of the precious loot, aka eggs, I drag Lukas back by pinching on the flabby part of his arm. You know, the prime pinching spot. Very effective. I trust Amar to finish lock up. The other boy soon catches up to us easily, shaking off spare feathers from him like a dog.


    When we arrive back to the hobbit house it is dark and silent but for our careful footsteps, shoes off of course. The living spaces and hallways perfectly still, as most houses are before dawn fully makes itself known. As if no one has bothered getting up out of their beds. In the distance, a rooster or three dryly roars into the sky.


    There''s no way Gable doesn''t know where we were or what we were doing. There was too much screaming, mostly by Lukas, for that.


    "It''s not screaming. It''s a war cry!"


    I didn''t realize I was muttering my thoughts out loud again. The morning exercise making me crankier rather than energetically refreshed like exercise is supposed to do. Maybe it''s the mud and chicken poop that''s drying on my entire body?! Who knows?!


    "Did my grampa teach you that too." I deadpan, feeling too tired inside.


    Is that was Gable feels all the time? I see why he has the, still very gorgeous, frozen poker face that he always does.


    "Yep! Scares and weakens the enemy!"


    "Oh really? How does it work on chickens? Because I''m pretty sure it just makes them angrier!"


    "I don''t know! But it gets them all off the eggs really fast."


    "Yeah but-!!!"


    Hot water creaks on before I can really start my retort but my rage has a new target. Another name to add on the personal petty kill list.


    See our first stop is the bathroom rather than the kitchen, for obvious reasons.


    "Hmmm that''s true, they were too busy chasing you so collecting eggs was really easy. Is this the right knob?" fiddles Amar from above, who absolutely knows what he''s doing.


    I say definitely because the hot shower cascades directly onto Lukas and me at full power. Perfect aim and timing. You can''t accidentally do that. No more talking or arguing for us, not if we don''t want water in our mouths. If not for pure shock, and the river of mud and sludge draining as a slippery tripping hazard, I may have pounced at the brat in righteous anger.


    But the water is very warm and welcoming after our volunteer morning chores, even if it''s a drowning waterfall. I''m still going to kill both these brats one day.


    "Ack! Warn a guy!"


    "Ah sorry sorry."


    The too innocent expression and the fact he''s is still watering us like garden plants say he''s not really sorry.


    Even Lukas can''t properly shriek, huddling under the steaming waterfall. It''s pretty messy but at least it''s not awkward or dangerous to clean up and dry off like this. Though I do have to order the boys back to the bedroom to change their clothes. Not everyone has a handy dimensional space bag as I do.


    Lukas got a new bed by the way, courtesy of Gable, given that his last one is lost in the lake or somewhere. It makes me really wonder how much backup furniture and supplies Gable has to keep around in storage.


    Contrary to my prediction, no is up or waiting for us in the kitchen. The house just as silent as before, with my twin fast asleep clutching a pillow when I checked. Shouldn''t Gable''s troublemaker senses be going off? It should be rigged to whenever Lukas opens his eyes.


    Said boy was currently trying to start a fire on the kitchen fireplace and the wood-fueled fire stove. It takes him a few attempts but he gets it. Since we''re already here might as well help out, set something to boil into a drink or whatever.


    "So how is this going to play out?" I ask


    "I''m gonna make cap admit I''m better at this. Gable already says I am but not in front of Cap, not till today!"


    "But they''re not even here? You can''t compete if the other isn''t even here?"


    For his not wrong comment, Amar gets a wooden spoon pointed to his face. Lukas is very dramatic I have figured out. It''s really weird seeing a boy that''s obviously related to Gable act out more like my kooky grampa? What a waste.


    Obviously grampa is around here too much being a bad influence. Bad gramps, stop bothering Gable and his already difficult attempts at child-raising. But then again maybe Lukas has always just been like that?


    "They''re gonna see my awesome skills and Cap will be crying in shame! Ha!"


    Yeah he''s always been like that. Oh well.


    Amar looks back and forth between the oddly gloating Lukas and the empty hallway before coming to his own conclusions.


    "So? You want to make them breakfast? That''s very nice of you."


    "What?!?! No! I said I''m gonna make Cap admit defeat! With everyone watching!!!"


    "You want commander to say it''s tasty? You want to make everyone breakfast too? Okay, we can help."


    "No I didn''t say that!"


    Ahhh this is much cuter, a red flushed and stuttering Lukas is much much cuter than the usual Lukas. From his terribly embarrassed reaction, Amar has read and translated the situation correctly! I think I''m beginning to understand birthday boy a bit better after this, shall I say, piece of Rosetta stone


    It''s so cute it has me completely caught off guard. In the end this kid just wanted to make breakfast for his parents! How cute! I can''t hold back the cooing, even if he kinda sees my own gross grampa as a parental figure.


    "Shut up! Both of you! You''re all wrong!" yet his sputtering protests goes ignored.


    Too bad so sad. No shame little frosty boy, this is adorable. Though nowhere near adorable enough for me to forgive surprise egg duty, I think only Lilyanne is cute enough for that.


    "Awwww but it''s so sweet of you! Yes yes Gable does do all the cooking and hard work, I didn''t think you even noticed."


    "Yeah, it''s really nice of you to want to make them something back."


    "So nice and cute! We''ll definitely help make Gable breakfast in bed!"


    "We''re going to have to hurry, the sun''s already up. Commander likes sleeping in but doesn''t Gable get up early? Lukas you should stop yelling and start making something."


    "I''m not cute- shut up! Stop laughing!"


    I''m not laughing, I''m awwwwing. Ah I understand why the other boy not so secretly teases Lukas now, this is quite fun. Cuteness rules the world in my book. He''s much more bearable when he''s like this, as annoying as his voice tends to be. The sincerely innocent embarrassment, the satisfying feeling of shocking a loudmouth into silence, oh and the almost ridiculous blushing! Oh hoho~


    Oh no, is this my future sadistic tendencies showing itself already?


    "I''ll go set the table." I hastily volunteer, let''s not go down that mindset just yet.


    "The cabinet is tall so I''ll help Rosalia? And cut the bread? Toast? I don''t know what else do you need Lukas?"


    "Oh yeah, Lukas what are we even making? I know we''re using the eggs."


    At that moment I pull out multiple baskets worth of our hard-earned loot. As terrible as battling those chickens are, I must admit Gable is right about their egg-producing abilities. Each one was as smooth as a decorative sea stone and from previous experience, I know they produce delicious orange-gold yolks. Tasty.


    At the sight of them and our questioning, Lukas shakes himself out of whatever embarrassment he had at having his true intentions revealed. There''s nothing wrong with wanting to be nice back, especially to Gable. Gable deserves all the best for what he''s had to put up with.


    "Right! Put on the toast! Then we''re going to make the perfect eggs and bacon to go with it! Easy peasy but Cap can''t even do something that simple, hehe."


    "Oh okay, that sounds easy." supports Amar, and I agree before we split up to work.


    The toast is made by putting sliced bread on a strange grate and leaning it against the fireplace. It''s a very strange nonmagical contraption that I initially thought was a medieval torture device. Kinda like a really pointy looking fish grill that stands?


    My balance and strength are much better than an average child my age so I have no issue climbing around to find utensils and condiments to set the table with. I admit though it does go much faster with an older child to grab really high stuff and carry plates.


    We were working pretty well together until I look over at Lukas cracking eggs in a bowl. It''s not bad, he''s not doing it wrong or anything. But didn''t he say the perfect eggs?


    "What are you doing?" I can''t help but ask, the table already done with Amar''s help.


    "Making the best eggs, duh."


    He splashes in milk from a cold pitcher, spoons in salt and mixes everything up in the bowl with nothing but a fork. Really for a child, it''s very good, very independent. You can tell he''s done this many times before. But is he making an omelet? Scrambled?


    On a cold iron pan over the fire, he spoons in some butter and another whitish substance, letting it melt and spread before pouring some of the egg mixture in. Switching over to the wooden spoon, he stirs vigorously.


    Scrambled, definitely scrambled eggs. Though I guess it could be considered stirred eggs, though it''s too overcooked for that but still really good for a little boy. Guess we just have different opinions on perfect eggs, oh well.


    I would have left it alone if he didn''t make that taunt.


    "I bet you never saw eggs this good before!"


    I bust out laughing. Oh sweet summer child, foolish foolish child. You shall pay for your naivety.


    "Move over, gimmie the stool. I''ll show you the perfect egg with a lot less work and in a fraction of the time!"


    "What you say! By the way, what does fraction mean?"


    "It means a part or a piece, now scoot over."


    Taking the kettle I previously put on to boil, I pour the hot water into a small pot. With careful hands I spoon in the clean whole eggs in the now boiling water. There''s no way to set this fire to low, not without Gable''s magical help so the best I can do it to move it aside.


    "Now we wait." I declare.


    "How is that better than mine? It''s just boiled eggs! "


    "Tut tut tut, you really don''t know anything do you? Scrambled is fine but you just stirred randomly and splashed eggs in the pan. I bet you think I just made hard boiled eggs."


    "Hard boiled? And hey I know plenty!"


    "But you don''t know the taste and texture of a perfect soft boiled egg now do you?"


    "I...uh what now?"


    Oh ho ho~ This world really lacks too much in many areas but I really feel it with food. A soft to medium boiled egg is the perfect topping to anything! While I understand it suits rice based dishes more and I am very rice bias, who can deny the jiggly jewel of breakfast. Simple but rich and refined, the yolk flavorful nectar to break and run down your food. Yes there is almost, no, there absolutely is magic in the soft boiled egg!


    Like the fool he is Lukas gives me an unbelieving look but it''s the muffled snickering behind us that draws my attention.


    "And what are you laughing at?"


    I understand that as an adorable toddler, my glare is not very intimidating but I try.


    "Nothing, you guys are just funny." beams Amar, and if it were anyone else they would believe him.


    But I''m nowhere near as easy to fool as Lukas over here.


    "Okay, since we''re so funny. What do you think is the best way to make eggs?"


    "That''s silly, they''re all tasty. Except when they''re burned? "


    Ah a very diplomatic answer. Also very avoiding the question. Yes the way one likes their eggs is all a matter of opinion, preference, It''s really no big deal in the overall big picture.


    "But mine''s the best." blurts out Lukas, his eyes squinting like he honestly believes it.


    "That''s because you haven''t had to best yet."


    I''m not saying I''m the best in the world because obviously I''m not. But I can surely show this brat a thing or two, he''s actually not bad for his age. Did Gable teach him? Or did perhaps life in the troops forces you to pick up these basics?


    "Maybe, and Gable can still do it better than me but that''s because he''s like 500. But scrambled and soft and fluffy and has milky butter! You can''t beat butter!"


    "So you need extra things? Butter is great yeah but egg? Perfect eggs on their own? Soft boiled all the way, you''ll see."


    "It''s just boiled!"


    "You''ll see soon."


    At this point, Amar doesn''t even bother trying to hide his laughter. Something about it rubs me the wrong way. Are we that entertaining? No, I even feel a bit like Lukas from earlier, a little mocking.


    "I''m sorry, I asked the wrong question earlier. Amar do you think Lukas'' way is the tastiest?"


    "Um, no?"


    "Hey! Amar!"


    "No no that''s very fair. And you probably don''t think my way is the best either."


    "No? Yes? What''s the question?"


    "I''m getting confused again" complains Lukas.


    I wave him off, still a little irritated and getting hungrier by the minute. Is the toast ready?


    "What I''m saying is, Amar doesn''t think scrambled or soft boiled is the best. That''s okay, everyone has favorites. But instead of saying anything he''s just laughing at us, right?"


    Like a housewife watching daytime TV Lukas gives a dramatic gasp at the realization. If you can''t beat them, join them, and Lukas is just too stubborn to really beat.


    "Hey! Not cool."


    "Ehhh, I didn''t really think I needed to say anything?" the smaller boy says with a slight shrug, hands up in the air for mercy he doesn''t deserve. It''s all a trick anyway because what he says next starts a bushfire.


    "I didn''t think I needed to say it out loud? Everyone already knows the tastiest eggs are fried."


    ---------


    Gable really didn''t know what to expect.


    He knew Lukas was out and about, triggering the alarms to the livestock, specifically the chicken coop. The two other tiny signatures with him were pretty easy to guess and he honestly trusted those two far more than his own nephew.


    They were up ridiculously early but what were they going to do in the chicken coop? Chores? Well that was fine with him. Of course, he knew it wasn''t that simple, it never was with kids or Ronald, who were essentially the same. But what did he care as long as they gathered the eggs and no one got an eye pecked out?


    So he settled his head back down into his very warm very comfy bed, not that he could even leave, waving away the alarm and mirror portal set to follow Lukas around the property. That boy was almost as bad as Ronald was during their youth, and he was actually only 6.


    It didn''t take much for Gable to will himself to sleep again, catching those sweet remaining hours before dawn. Even Ronald''s occasional loud snoring right into his ear couldn''t stop him, though he was too used to that.


    It would be fine.


    A couple of hours later, when Gable finally managed to pry and kick off his still dozing personal body heater to check up on the kids in the kitchen, he realizes his mistake.


    The good news, nothing was on fire and no one was hurt.


    The bad news, his kitchen table is covered in dishes filled with eggs.


    His Lukas was snarling like the overgrown puppy he was over a mountain of scrambled eggs that reeked of butter and suet fat. He was going to have to reteach that boy about food waste and rationing.


    That was nothing strange, the other kids'' behaviors were. He supposes he overestimated them, children. All of them.


    Rosalia looked oddly protective over a bowl of steaming but uncracked eggs. The ones on top of toast she managed to get, jelly like? Huh, interesting. He''ll ask her about that later. That girl always had such interesting ideas and inventions with her. It was a little nostalgic.


    Even stranger was how both of them were glaring with such animosity towards Amar, whose smile was wide but blank. His surrounding plates were probably the nicest looking, filled easy to medium fried eggs. The yolks standing out but the edges browned and crisp.


    The whole kitchen smelled great yes, of butter, olive oil, eggs, and toast. But more than that Gable smelled trouble, trouble that wouldn''t be easy to scrub out.


    He felt like it was a mistake to leave bed at all this morning. Should have listened to Ronald''s deep sleepy voice coaxing him to stay safe and snug under the sheets. It wasn''t too late, he just needed to keep quiet as he backtracked. The children too preoccupied with one another to notice the start of his approach.


    "Aaaaaah it smells so good! But where''s the bacon!?"


    Out of nowhere Ronald''s arm slings over his shoulder like it damn belonged there and knocked them both through the kitchen doorway, in full view on the kids. Right now they didn''t feel like kids, rather like wild animals ready to pounce.


    "Gable! Try this for me please! And I guess you too grampa."


    "Hey hey hey say mine is the best! Hey!"


    "Isn''t fried the best on bread?"


    "Cap! Gable! Mine''s super fluffy, which means it''s way better than any of these losers!"


    "Just admit you never seen something so perfect in your life! Soft boiled is too good for you."


    "You''re all too funny!"


    Gable really didn''t know what to expect this morning but it wasn''t this.


    God damn it Ronald.

 75 Ring Ring + Bonus Side Story 2

    I am pretty sure Gable has a phone, at least a landline.


    Sometimes certain objects in his house let of a glow. It''s the old clock in the hall, the decorative rock on the shelf, and a few random things but they all have something in common, slightly flat and reflective. Of course, this includes all the mirrors in the house, and there are a lot of mirrors.


    The light is subtle but shaking as if it''s vibrating in a ringing pattern. There''s no sound but it''s almost as if I can hear the vibrations ringing.


    Sometimes if Gable is in the room he excuses himself if not just disappears entirely, the ringing soon stops after that. Once in a while I hear grampa''s booming voice from another room right as the vibrations suddenly stop.


    I feel like an idiot. A slow to realize idiot. Of course the mirrors are a private phone system, it''s very Gable. All of a sudden grampa''s excessive narcissism in front of the mirror makes sense. He''s not that insane, he''s just video chatting.


    Oh, how I miss my smartphone and the internet. Kids these days in some other universe have it so good. I can''t even rant or rage on the internet anonymously. I just have to suffer with all of me in my own head. Thus the occasional, okay many, internal monologues.


    It is on a day that I am all alone that I see and hear the ringing. It doesn''t seem to end, no one in sight. Gable was off experimenting on- er I mean playing with Lilyanne. Grampa was...honestly, I''m not ever sure what grampa is doing, but I at least I kinda knew the general room he was in.


    Previously I was with the boys in Gable''s upper library. Amar and I pulling out all sorts of books and knick-knacks while Lukas cried over his ''boring'' assigned homework. What good little friends we are, keeping him company and not making fun of him all that much. The pain of homework is universal. The boy is currently working on his handwriting and cursive, which is good as any 6 year old''s can be. Not like I can speak, I have awful handwriting, especially with my current pudgy hands.


    Well, that''s an issue for another day, when I''m older and actually need to write things out.


    It was on my way back from the little girl''s room when I take the chance to pick up one of these ringing ''video calls.'' Like crossing some street I looked both left and right, seeing not an adult soul nor and end to the buzzing.


    So I chose a random decorative mirror in the hall, not a bronze one Gable has some legit stuff, and picked it up.


    Like magic, because it literally is, the light and buzzing stops to bloop an image to life. Not of my own face in the reflection but that of a strong gray beard and a long explosive list of expletives that no children should hear or repeat. Not if they''re good kids.


    "Sh##$#%$#$ shut your sniveling breathing holes you #$#@$beastslings. I''m on the- he''s picking up- Ron you !#@@ swine2#@$ intestine sack of #$#@wookie cu- oh! Oh by the Goddess, Rosie?! What are you doing there?! Oh no."


    "Hi uncle Geoff. Trouble back at base?"


    "ER ah, little Rosalia dear...ahahaha you wouldn''t happen to hear-er Rosalia, that''s just some er- ah- spells! Yes dangerous spells that you shouldn''t repeat...is your grandfather there?"


    "Gable is out right now but if you''ll give me a moment I''ll go grab grampa for you to cuss out."


    "Rosalia!!! Child wait!"


    "I won''t repeat anything bad, don''t worry. I don''t even know what they mean. Gable says a lot of worse things when he thinks I can''t hear, I''ll go get my intestine sack of a grampa now."


    "..."


    Cussing here is oddly creative. I prefer Gable''s swearing, simple but potent. More importantly, it''s actually understandable. Is this a world cultural difference thing? Because those swears were not in Rosalia''s vocabulary at all.


    Well nice to note down mentally.


    I patter off downstairs and peek around through doorways will I spy a familiar broad back leaned over a wooden work bench. He must be very into his research to notice himself.


    "Grampa, phone for you!"


    "Pumpkin! What''s a phone? Is it another dish?! Rosalia no fear, grampapa'' will always defend your honor and say yours is best!"


    Don''t remind me, please. I don''t want to see another egg for the rest of this week. Also grampa''s opinion means nothing to me. Especially when he was still shoveling down Lukas'' scrambled bacon fat monstrosity. That cheater.


    But I digress.


    "....A phone....uh the mirrors? They ring and light up? Uncle Geoff wants to talk to you."


    "Oh those! Yes I''ll be right there and ....oh how did you- did you pick one up?"


    "Uh yes? Was I not supposed to?"


    "Well you weren''t not not supposed to, ehhh it''s fine." grampa waves me off, pinching my cheek in that annoying self-satisfied way of his. Ow Ow ow my face. "Run along now before you have to listen to all the great praises people will report to me."


    "Okay grampa red monkey butt."


    "*gasp* Rosalia!!!"


    "Uncle Geoff taught me that when he thought I was you. Bye now."


    I lied but he doesn''t have to know that and I quickly make my escape. Nothing ever good comes from being along with grampa for too long. Last time I ended up crying over fish, the time before that I was crying over the transmigration thing. Interesting to note that grampa doesn''t recognize the word phone?


    Does he not have phones where he came from? Or is it just in another language, using another word? Perhaps he''s from a differnt earth time period or maybe he''s not from earth at all? Another planet? Another plane of reality. It''s a lot to think about.


    Yeah, let''s not, Gable''s place is my happy place.


    Even if it''s now invaded by bratty little heathens who dare challenge me on the universal truth that is soft boiled eggs. Gable forced us to call a truce and get along, it''s not even a big deal. All eggs are tasty that is true. But I think a certain crack of damage has been set.


    Oh well as long as we''re not arguing over food again it''s fine.


    Back to making fun of Lukas'' neverending homework. The circles and charms he has to learn are both fascinating and gorgeous! Can I get a copy of Gable approved lessons too? If I can''t stay here can I do video call chat lessons like some kind of online classes?


    Also, where do I get some magical paper and ink? Do I have to use feathers though? They''re pretty and all but hasn''t anyone invented a proper pen here? I''m not even asking for ball point, how about an antique fountain or something? A pencil? Anything? This requires more research.


    "There are nibs and tips people put on the feathers or carved sticks? Beetle shells tips are pretty popular and cheap? Some countries like using brushes? I don''t know what a pencil is though? Lukas do you know?"


    "Mmmmmmmffff I don''t wanna madskfsadfldfff"


    I crawl over to Amar''s reading corner since he seems more useful than a certain someone with their face smashed into their book. But understandable, homework has made me react very much in that same way before.


    "Okay so a pencil is a stick and inside is a lead or a material that rubs off. Artists probably use it a lot."


    "Um charcoal sticks? Or red clay sticks?"


    "What are red clay sticks?"


    There''s a lot to be learned in Gable''s little library. I could always waste a day or more in here but I admit it''s a little more interesting with some voices and decent company around. It''s ...a lot nicer than my own home library.


    I wonder what my parents are doing right now? Did they make up properly yet? I hope father manages to save me from mother''s attention.


    I haven''t been gone all that long, it''s only been some days, but I do wonder. Ah having my own mirror phone sure would be useful in checking up on everyone and all my projects.


    Soap, cream, shampoo bars, sunblock, beauty oil, face masks. The list is growing but we need to keep testing and maintaining quality before I can safely release my moneymakers into the world.


    Then there are the recipes, I can''t keep experimenting food just for fun. Not when my staff and occasionally members of the troops have such drastic reactions to things. There has to be a way to monetize this.


    I also wonder how my staff members are doing on their lessons, it really is important to raise the quality of my people rather than rely on those gossipy maids from other, minor, households. Literacy, basic math, some writing so our head butler Alfonso doesn''t overwork himself at his age. There''s just so much to be done.


    "That is a lot, I''m sure everyone''s fine though." replies Amar casually, hands and eyes flipping through a thick book with some geometric patterns. As if I just ranted out loud all my thoughts again.


    Ah I did it again.


    I really miss the internet.


    -


    ---


    -----


    (The side story no one asked for):


    Frederick P.O.V.


    -----


    ---


    -


    I have no doubt that one day a child of mine will come up to either my wife or I, possibly at the same time, with stars in her innocent eyes to ask:


    How did we first meet? How did we propose? Or get married? When did we fall in love and all that very romantic stuff that women and little girls so seem to adore?


    I am also of the opinion that child will be my sweetly simple Lilyanne, while Chip gags and chokes not so far away.


    Our Rosalia is the dramatic one, I believe it''s a trait from honored father.


    Ah, I still have to pinch myself once in a while. To be calling the great Lord Commander father is too much of a dream, even if I''ve been successfully doing so for years now. Amazing, I''m not sure how I did it?


    Ahem, of course, I married my beloved.


    Unlike my precious wife, I don''t have such a habit of speaking my thoughts out loud even if it''s just under my breath. Which makes my private thoughts rather safe. It''s an adorable and charming habit, makes it easy to understand what she saying versus what she means.


    Though it''s not so cute of a habit when it''s the blatantly obvious one of my daughters inherited that very same trait.


    It would be fine if it was my youngest, her thoughts are but sweet and simple clouds. The innocence from the mouth of babes. It''s hard to believe but our tiny Lilyanne may even more of an angel than my already heavenly wife Maria. Father agrees wholeheartedly.


    Chip on the other hand...well Rosalia is my fault, so says...absolutely everyone. I find it increasingly harder to deny, nor do I really want to. Despite being twins with the same sleeping faces, our girls are growing quite different.


    Even without the hair, which I am still puzzled over Maria''s adverse reaction, it''s easy to see Rosalia is my child.


    My youngest might as well be all the good and sweetness my dearest wife has bestowed on her. One look at her and I see Maria each and every day. It makes me uncomfortably soft, makes me want to dote and lavish my all onto this tiny creature that so resembles the love of my life.


    One look at my eldest, however, leaves me pinching myself endlessly.


    I still don''t believe it. Yes, yes that is my Maria''s celestial beauty, her fine features on that tender baby face. One would think it would match perfectly with our angel Lilyanne''s but of course, it doesn''t, that''s what had me near shooting myself in the foot at times.


    Rosalia looks like mine.


    She looks like my first love and mine. Proof that Maria and I were ever blessed in a union, with child. This unfathomable combination of the two of us. I still don''t believe this child even exists sometimes, until she''s tapping at the door to my study or rolling around in my drafting papers that is. Ah this child is actually real and not just a figment of my strange imagination.


    Even before her hair burnt towards the spectrum of red she always had this look when her eyes were awake and judging the world around her. Her brows already sharp, more distinct. Sometimes there would be cute pout that looks a bit like she''s sucking on a sour lemon, something I can now understand seeing it on another face.


    Which is why is impertinent to keep her the hell away from the social death trap that is my own family. That woman I must call birth giver cannot lay her claws on my precious family, cannot come near to claim a damn thing, especially Chip. My precious troublemaker of a daughter is mine, not theirs.


    My eldest is a prodigy, a genius even among my former family line. It''s impressive to even me, the so-called scholarly prodigy of my generation. To be honest I believe it''s a rather tacky title, one that my mother quite loved to show off. Which is exactly how I know it''s awful taste.


    I may not have visited my birthplace in years but I can see for myself my own daughter is vastly more capable and intelligent than any of my siblings'' children. Now that, that is risky. That cannot be seen, not yet. Not till she''s ready to stand on her own.


    Chippy just...needs a lot of work on her control and emotions, to be perfectly acceptable. That is if she were to be a Bicchieri.


    But she''s not, thank the divine goddess for that. And by goddess I mean my own wife and light of my life, who gracefully granted me the honor of sharing her last name of course.


    I need to pinch myself again because I''m still not sure how I did that?


    Ah yes, of course, I didn''t do anything. Not quite.


    I might have said something initially to that dirty little girl, a goddess in disguise, that she found unpleasant. Thus the tiny goddess retaliated by barehandedly flinging a table at my face all while screaming the word ''carrot'' as if it were an insult. Thus I can''t for the life of me recall what exactly it was I said. The table did shatter in woodchips after all.


    If you asked me if I fell in love at first sight, the answer would be no.


    Nor was it the second time after I woke up, vision red from my own blood. Nor the third time or the forth or the many hundreds of times after that. It was most certainly not love after the first hit, punch or whatever violence ensued, though I was very careful to dodge it all.


    I may have been taught to indulge young ladies but Maria was, and still is, a delicate vengeful goddess, that broken bones were too much of a risk.


    Our relations did drastically improve after a certain point.


    Perhaps it started when I offered my naturally more advanced aid in her studies? Maria, as perfect as she is, was never a particularly good student. That was more or less when she stopped seeing me as solely a red target mark and more of a companion, even a friend.


    It really wasn''t difficult, even with my birth giver''s standards. My gorgeous wife was always a beauty but she made a very passable male playmate during our childhood years.


    It really is difficult to time and place when the feelings of companionship became something more. I was just one boy against the gods'' most perfect creation. Of course, I learned to love Maria over the years but by the time I realized it I was already on my knees.


    Quite literally, she forced me down on my knees and the ground before carrying me, who was clearly older and taller, off to supposed safety.


    I think I may have started falling in her arms, again both figuratively and literally.


    Maria likes to think the... affections in our hearts started to bloom after she renounced fighting and started to seriously take lessons for ladies of the court. For she bloomed so dazzlingly no one from then on could ever look away.


    But I believe it started long before that and we were just too young...and dense to tell. It''s an odd trait that had us dancing in circles for years. No one tell her so for her pride wouldn''t allow it but.... more than as the belle of any ball, I have infinite tenderness for that messy little tomboy who broke my world.


    Also my nose on one occasion, and my femur on another, and then there was my...but it doesn''t really matter. A small price to pay to be where I am today.


    Maria has and always will be worth all the trouble that comes her way, or shall I say our way now.


    That gets another pinch. Yes, I have confirmed I am still awake and still married.


    Besides watching her destroy over half of my childhood mansion in front of my gaping mother and siblings was extremely worth it. Nothing says love like watching a divine goddess'' wrath. I felt like proposing to sacrifice my body and soul in marriage right there and then if she hadn''t already done so.


    I don''t dislike bold women, not when they''re as perfectly messy and lovely as Maria. I don''t dislike all the ridiculous amount of work either, to make her childhood home, our home, a better place. Early on to our marriage, I thought that I should at least contribute what I was good for, what I''ve been raised and trained for all my life. A part that someone like me could pick up and ease the burden of managing and representing the territory as a whole and in the courtrooms across nations.


    That''s what husbands do yes? They leave to work and sacrifice their time and energy to provide for their families. As a humble human man, the least I could do was that, and organize the entire account and logistics of the estates and troops.


    My honored father in law and darling wife, are reasonably a tad....lacking on certain matters of economics, or common sense. Which....explains a lot.


    There was a time I believed my dream to become someone of the political power of my own right. At the rate I was running, I am not being arrogant when I say there was no one more suitable nor desirable to be placed as the next prime minister of our conjoined republic.


    But then I became a father.


    That''s something that you can''t learn from any books, tutors or fine institution. Nothing any amount of money can buy.


    Becoming a father, a real one, is life long learning experience. And I think I learned that I just wanted to be that, nothing more. I just wanted to be a good father, someone I never had, and make this world just a little bit better for Maria''s children to grow up in.


    It really, truly hit me as I watched my daughter run along the fields of rural farmland. Her face and clothes smudged from dirt, eyes wide and smile wild. She had found the carrots and was laughingly screaming them out at me.


    Ah, I see.


    So it''s come this far, it''s come to this full circle. This little ball of dirt that''s half me and half Maria standing before me, yelling exactly just as her mother once did.


    I don''t need it, I don''t need to prove anything anymore. I just want to stay with my love and the life she''s given me. I want to keep all my girls close and safe, I want to make them happy.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    It really is a strange coincidence, fate maybe. That all my silly unproductive interests and drawings, things I wasn''t allowed to waste time in, that these useless things about me make my Rosalia happy.


    Maria was right even all those years back, I could be happy.


    I sincerely hope that when the day my little angel or a curious Chip comes to ask for the romantic tale that started it all they''ll go to my better half.


    I admit I don''t speak well on matters of heart. It''s better if I write it down and edit it into something pleasing to women? That''s what I have to do when Maria gets a certain level of upset at least, always works thankfully.


    Either way, I would do a terrible job telling it.


    I''m still pinching myself over it some days.


    Ouch, yes still married.


    -----


    ---

 76 The Sugar Conundrum

    As winter approaches, everyone''s skin will get dryer in the cold harsh air. Thus it is very important to moisturize!


    Not that common moisturizing products exist in this world yet, technically.


    "It hurts, when can I stop?" a small child whimpered pitifully, the corner of his baby green eyes wet with sleepy unshed tears.


    Large watery eyes were made even more woefully tragic looking on his small frame and skinny arms. Splotches of mess and soot not detracting from his plight, rather making his pleas even more righteously heartbreaking. You would think he was being tortured, forced into Cinderella like levels of indentured servitude. Who would be so cruel to reduce an innocent little thing like this to trembling like a withered leaf in the wind?!


    If it was anyone else who saw such a scene, they might be swayed into immediately apologizing then wrapping him up into a blanket burrito to comfort those sad sad tears away.


    But I have been raised with Lilyanne''s dopey cow eyes and famous water fountain and thus very immune. That and this deceptive sweet boy is a criminal.


    I have no room for pity.


    "Keep stirring."


    Amar plops his head down onto the table, little arms fake trembling around the mixing bowl. I''ve seen him lift far more than his body weight, this little endurance thing is nothing. Stop fake crying.


    "My arms don''t like me anymore." he moans like a wronged child begging for mercy.


    "Hahaha lame! I can keep going!" taunts Lukas despite doing absolutely nothing.


    As always this kid''s voice irks me into arguing back like a child. Which I technically am, so it''s all perfectly acceptable.


    "That''s because you spilled half of it before Lukas!" I make to smack at him, a spoon too large for me in hand.


    "I can just freeze it up and back, duh."


    "No that defeats the purpose, the lard and oil need to fully mix. It can''t when frozen. "


    "Fiiiiiiine, do it the slow boring way."


    It''s not like I wanna do it this way either, it takes so long. But we live in a world without electricity or mixing sticks or even a common blender. For a world with magic things sure are painfully backward and medieval.


    Can someone figure out how to power things to move? Not the butter crank my dad made me, like a blender or something?


    "It''s the only right way, ice will mess up the lotion."


    "It''s a very painful way." the tiny criminal cries, soft tender cheeks squishing against the table through the admittedly painful chore. Good, I hope he suffers.


    "You, keep stirring."


    "But we already made so many bowls..."


    "Stir!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "....so so many."


    Today we''re experimenting with more lard, so much lard. Gable''s big work table is a wonderful mess of lotion and experiments made from child labor.


    I''m not sure where Gable and grampa pulled out all this from, there are barrels worth of this stuff? I hear there''s ridiculous storage under the troops'' encampment grounds and honestly, I believe it. There''s a lot of loot and random supplies, including waste products, brought back from raids and hunts.


    Okay, I can see where all this stored lard comes from now.


    It''s not fresh stinky lard thankfully but the already boiled, rendered and filtered stuff that has cooled and solidified. They''re essentially barrels of off-colored white wax at this point, which can be kept in cool conditions indefinitely. Yay for processed tallow! So clean.


    No one knows which animal beasts this all came from, they might just be mixed all mixed up from previous hunts.


    It''s wonderful for making skincare! Rather than mass production I''m having more fun with experimenting and tweaking my recipes today. We''re lacking on the manpower anyways.


    I''m not all that strong, improved physical condition aside. I''m definitely stronger than I was, which is great for a toddler, but this much domestic labor is hard for even experienced adults. Lukas definitely has the strength to do a lot of surprisingly heavy work. In a pinch, he could make a good blender if you let him spin a whisk or two around.


    But he''s bad at controlling himself and awfully clumsy at certain times. I can''t risk anymore spilling or freezing on my precious moisturizing experiments, though I admit the freezing is very helpful for cleaning up.


    Thus there is Amar, the sugar criminal, sentenced to stir and pour and stir and stir and you get my point.


    Before anyone goes accusing me of child abuse by forced labor, I must present the punishment as worthy. For one, he can handle it, we only made like a dozen testers or so.


    "No, it was a lot more than that Rosalia! I can count, there were dozens of candles yeah but then you started-."


    "You, shut it. Keep stirring."


    "My arrrrrms."


    "Stir."


    Ahem, where was I?


    Ah yes we started out craft time with candles! It was an idea that my jr. chef Georgie, who is basically my personal assistant at this point, left in my head months prior. Now that the winter months are approaching, the need for candles now prevalent.


    Magic stones and devices may exist but the whole world doesn''t revolve around the scarce amount of magic. For the most part, people use things like candles, fire hearths and oil lamps to light the way in the dark. Even my mansion uses these simple things on the daily, especially the servants.


    Unless I can get my hands on whatever glowing moss Lukas has, is that sustainable?


    Gable, of course, set up everything in the beginning. Everything we would need all provided, nice and safe! Safe enough for even Lilyanne and grampa to join in on the fun. Though I don''t think those two made any useable candles, either too small or too overwhelmingly large. Well, that''s grampa for you, go big or go home.


    Lilyanne, however, got into a terrible but adorable mess by bathing herself into soft warm candle wax mix. No worries, she''s perfectly safe. Grampa would never let a thing harm his precious granddaughter.


    Though he did find the results amusing and tried making a Lilyanne shaped wax mold.


    She''s perfectly safe and fine! Gable was here! And now he''s not.


    The candle making craft session was finished up, our tools and cooling racks put away while a waxy Lilyanne and grampa were taken off to the baths. Before Gable left though he set up to continue safely crafting as we pleased.


    Overall we had a lovely child-friendly craft time making dip and drip candles of all sorts. Not including the horrifying attempt at a life sized Lilyanne candle, that was destroyed by Gable immediately. Praise Gable, blessed be Gable.


    Very creative, very fun. Feels like elementary school all over again. You can even make plain candle sticks fancy with pretty rolled herbs or carve them up in molds.


    With Lukas we could flash freeze and cool down our specialty candles easily.


    I really am excited to bring some home to mother and Alfonso. Let''s see if luxury candles are a viable product? Maybe talk to father about upping the apparently low quality of standard candles.


    The efforts to light homes prior to electricity is truly a burdensome one. What about oil or gas lamps? Eh another day, I shouldn''t juggle so many things I don''t know enough about. Candles are simple. candles I can do.


    The tallow and wax rendered smooth to a rich creamy but surprisingly clean-burning candle. Not at all stinky like you would expect, and trust me I smelled some awful ones on the farm. Not everyone has figured out how to clean and filter lard into decent candle wax it seems, that of the effort is too high. I admit we''re cheating a bit by mixing it with beeswax too.


    Of course, by adding aromatic oils, herbs, spices or all three they smell even better! So many spices to play with.


    Ah yes, spices. I sure do wonder where they came from.


    "I said I wasn''t hiding anything?"


    "Did I say stop? Keep stirring!"


    "But I''m huuuungry." cries the little human whisk.


    It''s not like we''re making soap, why so much complaining? The sugar hoarding brat can handle this much pain yes?


    If that was the case I would have bust out the hand crank whisk, though most of those are rightfully in my home kitchen and not with me. Really, it''s an easy day. We''re just ''playing'' with making variations of tallow based cold cream right now, though admittedly on the thick side. Isn''t that great for dry hands or feet in winter?


    When the hand cream has reached an acceptable consistency that I finally approve of, Amar half collapses onto the table. Geez and people call me dramatic?


    "Lukas, freeze and help me pack em up with the rest!"


    "Aye aye!" yells Lukas with his mouth half full, happily munching away on sweets.


    Among them are a thin stack of my precious cinnamon sesame cookies. They may be simple but I can''t ever seem to stop reaching for them. After all the work we''ve done today sweets taste extra good. My tiny arms are pretty sore you know?


    "I''m huuuungry" comes the limp muffled crying between us.


    Sheesh fine already, really he brought this upon himself. I slide over our giant shared snack plate while Lukas lifts Amar''s head to pop food in his ready and open mouth.


    See he''s fine!


    Tantalizing cubes of colorful nuts encased in delicate nougats and gel candy lines a box, powdered with sugar finer than magical snow. Buttery dunes of tiny assorted cookies, including my favorite roasted sesame ones, the tastes, and textures all different though one wouldn''t think it from how similar they seem to look. But wait, there''s more.


    These were all raide-er I mean rightfully confiscated from Amar''s packs and belongings. Gable gave him away when he pulled out the spices for our craft time. A polite souvenir, luxurious even judging from these Turkish delights, or lokums as he calls it, from his unexpectedly short mission trip.


    I understand how he may have been ill-prepared in bringing back and sorting all the goodies that he could have. Not enough time or a chance to arrange my rightful snack pack.


    However, the brat has been massively holding out on us, which Lukas and I have obviously found. What oh what could the boy have possibly been hiding to incite such a reaction where Lukas and I would team up to such an extent?


    "This weird brown stuff is really really good! It even makes boring fruit taste good!" exclaims Lukas, happily devouring another apple''s worth of slices.


    I agree, dipping a slice into the gooey melted down candy. It smells divine and sticks beautifully, a delicacy I somehow have not seen in this world.


    Caramel.


    Caramel exists and I have obviously been living under a rock for the entire 17 years I spent alive in another lifetime here. Caaaaarrrrrraaaaaamel!!!


    "My snacks...." mourns Amar, looking utterly defeated.


    To shut him up I take a short basketball shot of a caramel apple slice to his open mouth, which he still manages to greedily catch without difficulty. Score.


    Do I feel kind of bad at taking candy from essentially a baby, kindergartener? Naaaaaaah, not if there are caramels involved, which we melted down into a creamy shareable dipping sauce.


    Delicious!


    Though I am still very mad about how I missed the existence of caramel? What even?


    Caramel is essentially just sugar, boiled down and cooked into a beautiful shade of not burnt brown. Maybe you add some top milk or butter to get it creamy and rich. Easy peasy, even without candy thermometers or such modern tools.


    I could have made my own caramels given enough time.


    Here''s the issue though, sugar is expensive. Not the, ''oh I should wait till it goes on sale before I buy some'', kind. I mean really, you better be a well off noble household or something to get your hands on regular access to this luxurious sweet stuff.


    Oh hell honey is expensive! Molasses, basically anything sweeter than what a vegetable can naturally taste like is pricey.


    I really should do something about that, it''s not just for the sake of my sweets. Perhaps a honey farm? That would be good for our farms and vegetable production. Oh bee hives, right! Mental note to work on beehives later.


    Back to why I''m both so furious and exasperated with the secret stash, caramels included.


    I may have provided Amar with a small sack of gold not only as a gift card for himself, but to get me some foreign goodies. Like how you make your friends buy you stuff when they go abroad.


    After the whole bleeding from a cracked head fiasco though, it turned out he let Georgie boy hold on to most of that money?


    Sure George did a wonderful job of spending it responsibly, I''ve very impressed with the stocks he brought back. Now that I know he has such super shopping talents, I''m definitely sending him out on more market trips.


    But that also meant Amar spent like, a little itty bitty portion of his gift card. Even if Georgie and my chefs may have forced dressed him on a shopping spree or stuffed him silly, that''s barely any money. Not even a scratch on what these snacks should have cost if we''re talking pure sugar alone.


    Where did he get all these heavenly sweets!?! How did he afford them?!


    "I''m surprised too how expensive sugar is here, okay? I''m really sad about that still." whimpers Amar, arms still splayed out like a dead sea creature.


    In a slight show of pity, and amusement, I aim and throw a candied nut cake at him. At the same time Lukas backs up to throw some green chunk of fruit. It''s a game at this point. We lack amusement here okay?


    "Keep talking, there are places where sugar isn''t a terribly gold draining?"


    "Mmmm! Yeah, it was hard getting used to the meals here at first but you get used to it. Food is food I guess."


    "The sweets."


    "They''re all stuff you can buy easily in the streets and markets. I promise, all the lokums cost about half a small copper for mixed bag."


    Sacrilege, these delectable chewey little rose water and fruit gums that are absolutely covered in fine white sugar are that dirt-cheap? I take a bite of a stacked brown cereal bar looking thing, tossing him rest because I''m honestly getting full with how much I''ve been snacking on.


    Which is a lot given how all girls have a separate stomach for dessert.


    Dates. Figs. Walnuts. Something aromatic, a little bitter, but powdery. A bunch of little seeds I won''t bother to identify. It tastes delicious.


    They''re all amazingly sweet, everything the little cookie dealer has managed to smuggled back to my family''s territory would go for absurdly high prices in the capital.


    The fruits and nuts I can understand, they grow in a different climate. Native to a different region. Figs and dates themselves have a great sugar content and preserve well.


    But the sugar? Now that stuff is hard to make, hard to process. How does another region have such widespread sugar access?


    "I don''t know why you don''t have sugar either? No one grows it?"


    "Don''t be dumb Amar, you can''t grow sugar."


    "Um, I''m pretty sure you can. Can I have another lokum? Oh and a pear?"


    "Aye aye Amar!" yells Lukas, backing up even further to aim and throw the snacks.


    I have to pull him back by the collar because we''re beginning to miss more and I will not stand for wasting precious sweets.


    "Alright then, where does the sugar come from?" I interrogate, waving a fat date in front of his face.


    I know these semi-dried fruits are his particular favorite from the heartbroken cries he made upon confiscation. Let''s see you play smart now huh?


    "Can you cut it in half and stuff goat cheese in it? It''s yummier that way."


    "Answer me or I eat it whole."


    "Okay okay okay don''t eat it all! From the markets, or traders. Um it comes in a lot of colors and the white ones is the most expensive, just like flour? They call it powdered honey in some countries near here? That''s funny though because powdered honey is a different thing, that''s made from honey."


    "Less rambly more talking, how is it made?"


    "I don''t know? From boiling and drying? I''m not a sugar farmer?"


    "Sugar farmer?! What plants do they grow?"


    "That''s a silly question, sugar comes from sugar stalks."


    For being a good little interrogatee, I allow Lukas to bring over the goat cheese for us to try out, throwing the first one into Amar''s mouth. The normally annoying snowball of a boy is much more cooperative when there are sweets in the picture.


    Ah it''s actually really tasty of a combo! I suppose you can''t go wrong with fruit and cheese.


    "They kinda look like old marsup poops but I think I like em" chomps down Lukas on a stuffed date, as if his mouth wasn''t already half full from whatever other goodies he''s been eating.


    "Guys?" pleads Amar, who should be fully capable of using his arms to eat but does not.


    Oh well, free shot.


    Then I continue my interrogation using bait and lure of Amar''s own stolen sweets stash. Ah, I am truly very evil. Can''t be helped.


    "Sugar stalks? Do they look kinda like long skinny trees, stalky but watery? The juice is yellowish to brown and sweet?"


    "Yeah? Sugar stalk juice is really really good."


    The boy drools a bit in memory then peeks out a pink tongue, trying to lick off a splatter of dark caramel on his nose that we missed.


    I''m no basketball star ok?


    "Okay so there''s sugar ''stalks'' and sugar farms. People can boil the juice and turn them into grades of sugar?"


    "And molasses! That stuff is cheaper, and it''s yummier if you mix it with fruit. So fruit molasses? Except for pomegranates because that''s a sour molasse, but a little sweet? Both? I like pomegranates! But I didn''t get to bring any back...."


    There there, I understand- have another err a cookie? Yeah, one of the jam ones.


    While he munches away and Lukas plays tabletop basketball, my little brain runs through the information.


    Sugar production is such a viable and common thing in some other parts of the world that sweets of this caliber can be considered cheap and easily accessible. Wow-what a world we live in, one that the original Rosalia apparently didn''t know existed.


    Another important point, sugar canes exist!


    From what I understand, sugar here comes from a specialized crop of sweet underground beets. That stuff is then chopped, processed and rendered down into a condensed juice. Then dried and spun around, until it forms molasses and then dried and processed further to actual raw sugar crystals. The more stripped of molasses and polished it is to the point of modern table sugar, the pricer.


    The process is tiresome and terribly labor-intensive, and only done in small batches during the right seasons. Understandably all processed goods are labor heavy, sugar cane juice is processed about the same way I would guess.


    But there''s something awfully suspicious going on. Sure, maybe the sugar beets don''t produce as much sugar content as the canes, that''s reasonable. Even if production is just a lot better elsewhere, why hasn''t this ''common'' commodity entered our markets? They''re not even available?


    The world is recovering yes. Travel is difficult yes. But surely with the great love and demand of sweets, no just ingredients, and supplies in general, wouldn''t there be more offerings for sale? Merchant ships, caravans, private networks, anything?


    The original goods may have been a spoiled rotten princess essentially but she was very much the top queen candidate. That meant lessons, so many lessons. My then scary father was especially harsh on topics such as economics, trade, and both micro and macro politics. At least he was while he was alive...


    ...but that''s an issue for future me to delve into. The nerd must be growing on me with his usefulness, yes that''s it. I''m an average person, of course, I don''t want my birth parents to just go off and die, leaving me in a vulnerable position all over again.


    Another day, we confront that red flag on another day,


    Those lessons and practical practices forced on me was very necessary for running the family''s territory, businesses, and expenses, both at home and in the capital. In all my time personally, looking over trade stocks and logs though, sugar of such price or quantity never even blipped on the radar? Nor was it available on the stupid prince''s side, bleck their nation''s food is even blander as a whole.


    But the supply exists and is available in markets accessible to common people. I can confirm with Georgie and my chefs on the expedition, the heavy supplies sugar and foreign spices filling up space in my home kitchen.


    This isn''t just a simple issue of shipping and logistic- I think there''s something deeper going on. Something a lot more complicated than border tariffs, though that''s a headache on its own.


    But what? Politics? A sugar stronghold monopoly? Trade walls?


    I feel like it''s a matter to consult with my father. He has a much stronger background in these sorts of business than I ever did, that around nerd. There''s also his side of the family''s business?


    "Imma lick the bowl!" declared Lukas, our caramel somehow now down to the very bottom of the container.


    Serious thoughts for later, precious caramel now!


    "No no no you don''t, there''s still so much good stuff on the sides."


    "That Imma lick."


    "Lukas don''t you dare, get away from my caramel!"


    "It''s mine! Butter and cream was my idea."


    "I said melt it down into a sauce!"


    "Too late!"


    "Get your nasty mouth away from the caramel!"


    Yelling can only get me so far, for Lukas has topped the whole bowl victoriously over his head. Disgusting. Seriously, where does he get it from? Not from Gable that''s for sure.


    What a shame, my wonderfully indulgent caramel sauce gone to the mouth of a little beast. I can only cry into the remaining pile of terribly delicious sweets leftover. Woe is me.


    "....my candies." weeps the caramel criminal pathetically, limp in his seat.


    Eh I''ll make it up to him eventually, no need to feel bad. Really, it''s fine. Here have another cookie!


    "What....in the forsaken realms is going on in here?!!"


    Uh oh, Gable''s back.


    Just to be clear, I didn''t do anything wrong today. I put all of my moisturizing experiments away. All the sugar on the table technically belongs to Amar, so you should punish him on that. Shame on him for hiding so much right? Then there''s Lukas, he''s is the one with a sticky bowl on his head, just saying.


    What a shame that we''re all out of caramels....I wonder if someone has some more hidden somewhere?

 77 Nothing to see here

    "Keep your clothes on, don''t lose your socks, listen to direct orders, if anything happens go to Geoff, don''t release any live animals, please don''t get injured in anyways I can''t fix in 5 minutes, don''t-."


    "I''ll be fine!"


    Gable gives the hyperactive child a glare that spelled both dread and disbelief, but seeing the dumb for sure look still shining on Lukas'' face he simply settles for tying the fluffy scarf around the child''s neck even tighter.


    Like all good things, my time at Gable''s hobbit dream home has come to an end. I am to be returned back home this very afternoon, where hopefully mother has cooled down from the Rosalia lockdown. Hopefully.


    Do your job and distract mother you useless nerd.


    Since grampa is taking us back, why not let Lukas have a little trip back to the campgrounds! We''re calling it a home visit from his ''apprenticeship''. It would be good for him to get out of the woods a bit. Sure kids need structure and a schedule but kids like Lukas as just too hyper not to let them out to wreck general chaos once in a while.


    That and to give Gable a much needed break.


    For someone who needs his alone time, he sure is fussy over Lukas leaving, even if it''s just for a few days. Guess the loudmouth brat grew on him. Eh, I suppose dealing with grampa is worse.


    Speaking of grampa.


    "Do not lose your clothes again, do not streak or go skinny dipping at this time of year, especially not in front of the children. Don''t let Lukas fall back into bad behavior. Don''t give Geoff a bad time any more than your natural state makes unavoidable, don''t-"


    "Gabe, we''ll be fiiiiiine! Besides, I''ll be right back before you know it! You know, with the munchkins gone an-ack!"


    I don''t know why Gable is dressing grampa too, for he is a grown man perfectly capable of dressing himself. But I must admit the warm fluffy scarf makes a wonderfully effective choking tool. Go Gable go!


    How dare he try to sneak off and hog Gable for himself?! Hmmpf I''ll just have to keep an eye on him, if anything I''ll throw Lilyanne to him. Try sneaking yourself to Gable''s with a cute crying toddler in tow!


    "Is it normal to choke people to show affection?"


    At Amar''s legitimate question, all strangulation and murder attempts suddenly stop. Instead, both gramps and Gable frantically rushed up to lecture us.


    "...No."


    "Is not!"


    "Physical harm is called abuse and is never acceptable, especially among family members and loved ones."


    "If anyone lays a hand on you you should punch em! Or bite them? Or just pummel them to death! That''s what I would do."


    "Escape is good, Escape is always an option. Running away is preferable. "


    "Running and hiding is good. No shame in living another day! If you can''t kill them at least cripple them so they can''t come after you easily!"


    "It''s better to avoid compromising situations in the first place.


    "Stab em good!"


    "Do not. Unless you''re in a bad situation, then yes. "


    Caught in the middle, Amar''s little head ping pongs back and forth between the two adults. Let''s just hold that thing still now.


    Alright alright, we get it already. We won''t be stupid kids that get into stupid dangerous situations. Not like the kindergarteners can''t handle it....I think? Honestly, I can''t guarantee that for myself either but it''s better to just nod and agree when people get like this.


    Except for you Lilyanne! Listen very carefully!


    The last time grampa took me home from Gable''s place was a sleepy blur. One minute we were on Gable''s floor the next, poof, home in the Ventrella mansion. Hey, um, how do I access this short cut?


    This time we''re actually all awake to witness just how it happened.


    Without any explanation, Gable gets to work in some seals more complicated than anything I''ve browsed through from the books and scrolls in his study. There''s no ink or paper, only the warm glow swirling and lingering in the air. When grampa seems to be able to breathe normally again, he moves to help out with the circle seal. His palms look to be radiating something electric, flowing along tinging Gable''s drawn-out marks like watercolor paint. While Gable''s controlled writing is much nicer, something about whatever grampa did really makes it magic.


    "Alright then girls! Where do you want to go?" clamored Grampa, voice way too loud given how we''re all huddled in such close space. Into the circle everyone, and stay there.


    But the lights and noise only make Lilyanne cheer harder "Go hwome! Mama n Papa!"


    Yeah sure, why not. Gotta give Lilyanne back to the parentals. They must be sick with worry and concern over her. If not, then at least missing her terribly.


    I can hardly recall a day that she wasn''t watched over by at least one parent, though admittedly it was primarily mother. She''s very....uh....cuddly...and sticky. I now know just how much of a helicopter parent mother is capable of being.


    Judging from past and now present observations during my groundings, mother must be awfully missing her cute favorite child. I don''t get it but hey, I''ve never had to be a mom. Viva la- second childhood redo!


    "Is that okay with you boys?" grampa turns, as if the kindergarteners actually get a say in this.


    "I don''t know? Anything you say is best Commander?"


    "Aye aye Cap! Do I get to ride a steed back to camp?!"


    "Oh? That sounds fun!"


    Seeing that it all works out, grampa makes a surprisingly bright clap of his hands. Yes, it''s bright, I don''t know how magic is supposed to work either okay? Especially if it''s from grampa, if there were any rules he would be the first to utterly break them to little pieces.


    Whatever he does seems to set the circle to activate. Though there''s no need to in this small space, I pull Lilyanne up close to me, being careful to hold her hand tight. Wouldn''t want anything to happen just because she saw something shiny and decided to chase it.


    "Then homebound it is for my grandbabies! Ah but let''s have some fun with this! Lily sweet! Oh good Rosalia''s already hanging on. This will work just fine! Now just touch this shiny part right here! Think about where you wanna go~"


    "Mama rwoom!"


    "-Right, think about it and press your hand right there!"


    Never mind, grampa has provided the shiny thingy. My baby sister is like a dumb bird or squirrel, ooing and tunnel visioning it until she grasped whatever grampa told her to.


    The problem is that she gave him the occupied hand, the one with me attached to it.


    It''s a problem because I can see the moment Gable''s nonchalant waving turns panicked. Can feel it when a static shock zaps through my fingertips and up to my short hair. There''s a high pitched yelp that most likely came from me as whatever the hell that was shocked my nerves to the point I can''t even feel Lilyanne.


    Wait, there is no Lilyanne? When did we get separated, how? The shock? Why do I feel so light on my feet? Oh shit.


    Before my vision is overtaken in a swirl of lights and electrical shocks I see grampa make a grab for Lily, thank goodness for that. She''s safe. Hate to say it but I couldn''t trust anyone else more than gramps to take care of her.


    There''s a sudden pressure on the back of my neck and collar but the world flashes and it''s a whiteout. I may or may not have screamed.


    "Rosa? Lukas? You can stop screaming now? Why are you two even screaming?"


    I blink, once, twice and struggle to right myself straight despite already standing up. Do you know that feeling of when you get knocked over by a wave and pulled into the ocean? It''s that feeling. It''s disorienting and you need a bit of time to spit up the sting of briney water and get your bearings.


    My bearings say that I''m definitely back home in my family''s mansion. Rather than the main hall like the last time, it appears to be an inner corridor? If I''m not mistaken, this should be the hallway leading to father''s office.


    Whatever malfunction occurred wasn''t so significant as to mess us our circle''s destination. However, confusion aside, there''s no Lilyanne or grampa in sight. Only an unequally confused and dazed pair of little boys.


    Silly Lukas, why the screaming? That malfunctioning magic circle wasn''t so bad. I most certainly wasn''t screaming, just a little surprised. I get dizzy spells you know.


    "Where did cap go?" blinks Lukas.


    "In the same place with my sister I''m sure. But why are you guys here?"


    "I don''t know!"


    "I think it''s because I grabbed onto you two at that time? If Cap'' is with Lilyanne, it''s because he was touching her right? So because we were hanging on to Rosa, we came here with?"


    "Oh I get it, we hitched a ride on Rosalia!"


    "Something like that?"


    That''s a reasonable enough explanation. Touch and proximity is a major factor. The boys were standing closer to me.


    "Okay yes, that makes sense. Hmmm but where did grampa and Lily go? And why here? I''m really glad we didn''t get sent someplace weird but, hmmm."


    I really am glad no one got thrown into a void or lost a body part, me especially, in the crazy transportation circle.


    Okay, I got it, no more personal touching of strange magical artifacts for me. Obviously, I was the wrong factor in magic going haywire and this was an unplanned result if Gable''s panicked expression was anything to go by. Until I get a better explanation and understanding of what''s going on, I''m not touching anything zappy zappy.


    "The circle pattern? Lukas weren''t you studying seals? I think saw similar things in some books at Gable''s." questions a kid.


    "I was supposed to... but I don''t remember them all you know. Gable''s making me remember way too much, all the lines and squiggles look the same in the air than on paper!"


    "It''s kind of familiar? I''ve been in another circle like this before...I think this one takes the magic caster a place of ''intent''? You don''t even need to say it out loud? Ah magic is weird, really cool but weird. Rosalia what did Cap'' say you or your sister were supposed to do?"


    Ah while I''m ruminating, the brats work fast deducing. Can''t be helped, I have a lot more to mentally juggle. Yeah ok, good enough explanation for now.


    "Right! ''Think of where you want to go'', Lily said she wanted to go home. Funny though, I could have sworn she said she wanted mother''s room."


    Fine with me, the worst place we could have ended up at is the stupid prince''s. I''m not looking forward to that annual visit coming up.


    "Is this not it?" tries Amar, looking around the hall.


    "No, it''s my father''s."


    "Oh ok. So you wanted to go your father''s? Ok then, that''s good then that we got here. Maybe they''re over at your mama''s qaurters?"


    "Maybe....Hey! What is that supposed to mean?!"


    "??? That you wanted to see your father? I don''t know?"


    Don''t be instigating that of all places I would want to appear at the nerd''s room. How gross!


    But I get nothing but blinks of confusion, ah brats.


    Well, I suppose it''s a much better place than being trapped in mother''s boudier again. I found another hidden closet of dresses in her giant wardrobe but I really rather not be forced into so much boredom that I recount. At least father''s study has interesting drafts and drawings to doodle and make notes on. Lots of progress on the farms and little inventions we have yet to commission or patent properly. I think so far only the hand whisks and butter churners.


    But I have lots more toys- er tools to be worked on.


    It''s been a while since I looked at them. I wonder how the farms are doing this close to winter. There''s a lot to be done if I want to implement reliable anti-famine measures in time before I turn 5. I''ll be quite busy then I suspect. Can''t have those hungry mobs rising up on me.


    Oh and there was the matter of the tutors that I wanted to discuss with father, making it a formal employee education program and classes. Perhaps hiring another more suitable teacher for groups, maybe from the troops?


    The sugar! Trade walls!


    That was the latest thing I wanted to discuss with father! Yes why can''t we important that sweet cheap stuff, even at a shipping rate and handling cost? What''s the economic situation like in general? How can I market my future products if I don''t know enough of the actual market?


    I haven''t even thought about touching the nearby ports yet.


    Yes there''s so much to be done. So much that the nerd is still useful for. Guess it''s not so bad to land in front of his office.


    Is he even still alive after mother? I don''t think she would kill him literally, since she seems to love him so disgustingly and all. But it''s a risk every Ventrella must live with, wrapped around mother''s delicate and terrifying finger.


    Don''t ask me why we''re all so scared of her. It''s just instinct and common sense at this point, I don''t really want to find out what has grampa and father shaking so hard.


    "Hey hey, since we''re here, where do you keep your steeds and horses?! Stables?! Can we see em. Can I pet em?"


    Ah yes, another reason to see the nerd. Gotta be a good host and let Lukas pet some horses. Maybe not father''s personal steeds but still. Man these legitimate reasons keep stacking up.


    Very legitimate reasons, don''t blink at me like that.


    I sigh and give, telling the boys to wait right there in the hall while I go to find my father. It would be rude to just let them wander into his personal office, besides he might appreciate the heads up that I''m back.


    Not like how my parent would be happy to have Lilyanne returned but apparently I''m trouble and they get worried I''m ''bothering'' someone or something when I''m unaccounted for. Rude.


    At this point I don''t even bother knocking. For some odd reason, the door is never locked when I come by. That''s very careless and out of character for father. Wait...is this a magical lock?


    Eh oh well, it''s not technically an unknown magical artifact. At least I never got zapped in all the times I''ve gone in and out.


    "I''m home! Father I want to eat sweets so I think-....!!!!!"


    Oh dear.


    Oh hjdafsglkjawejfkbalsbfjdskaq2h48rb!!!! Nothing to see here!!!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Eeep! Rosalia?"


    "CHIP?!!!?!"


    "Pardon me." I make a low curtsey, as is polite, and quickly back away.


    Seeing absolutely nothing, nope, nada. What a hideous carpet father has, let''s get him a new one later .


    "Chip!!?!!!"


    "Oho, don''t panic dear."


    "How do I not pan-"


    And that''s more then enough for me. Goodbye forever now.


    "Please don''t mind me, my mistake. Carry on."


    New carpet, new desk, yes I''m oh so considerate. Mother won''t have to lift a finger, absolutely not. Please don''t move at all mother. Do not.


    Without looking up once, I maneuver my way to slam the door shut.


    What a lovely door, we should renforce it somehow to make it all the more lovelier.


    Okay then, breathe Rosa gurl, breathe. This is nothing, I''m a modern woman. I''ve had access to the internet and drunken parties. I''ve lived through college and all my bartending shenanigans. Lots of things to see, many worse things to see. It''s not like I''m a blushing Lilyanne. Ohohohoho, yes this is fine.


    Except those are my parents so no, no it''s not.


    Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! ICKy Gross gross gross GROSS! It''s snu-snu! My eyes! Death by snu-snu! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!


    "Rosa? What''s wrong?"


    "Oi is there a dead body!?! An attack?!"


    In the burn of my eyes, I run into the closest little body waiting down the hall. No matter how much I rub my eyes, with either my own somehow wet hands or another''s also now wet shirt, the cursed image is seared behind my eyelids.


    I saw my own father''s bare thighs? What do I do with that sort of information?!?! I don''t need it! I don''t need any of this! No one needs to see their own parents snu snu!


    "What''s snu snu?"


    Snu snu?!!?! I can''t help but cringe and die inside, though in this little easily overwhelmed body it results in a lot more crying. Again, I may or may not be screaming.


    "Uh okay? Should we go take a look?"


    Oh no no no bad, bad idea. It''s bad enough that this baby mouth of mine is crying incomprehensible gibberish and teaching kids words they really should not know. No no no , let''s not mentally scar anyone else. Especially kids this young! Oh the trauma!


    "No don''t!!!"


    "It''s fine, it will be fine. Lukas can you hold Rosa up? Be right back."


    "Sure sure. Geez, you''re all snotty. What was it? Was it that bad?"


    In a flash, I''m transferred over and Lukas has a too cold ice bar wrapped up in cloth to smash against my burning hot face. Nose smashing aside, I can''t let anyone else see the shame, the snu. I have to stop Amar.


    "Stop! Don''t do it, it''s fine! Let''s go wait outside!"


    "???"


    Luckily for me, the kid stops. But he is a fast little thing, less than halfway down from the cursed unblocked unlocked door. He tilts his head in owlish confusion and right after, that''s when I know I''m not so lucky and it''s too late.


    His nose twitches and scrunches, like he smelled something rather unpleasant. Pinching it, he looks up with a displeased look that says he so knows.


    He jogs back.


    "Ohhh, so that''s what it''s called." he mulls, like a child learning new vocab words.


    Ah shit.


    "What''s called what? What happened?! Is there blood? I thought you were okay with smelling blood now?"


    "Blood is okay if it''s plain? I''m getting better, Tamera says my nose will get used to it as I get older. But no blood, I think it''s the snu snu? I didn''t know it was called that."


    "LET''s allllll go outside!" I try in vain, because yes we are moving out but they keep talking?!?!


    "What''s snu snu?" echoes back Lukas.


    "Do you remember that time we saw hookwolves mate in spring?"


    "Oh that?! Is it like the time with the evergreen deers?"


    "Yeah? That. But with people?"


    "Ohhhhhh I didn''t know it was called snusnu! No one ever tells me anything!"


    "Ack, Rosa don''t cry?! Why are you crying even more? Lukas why is she still crying?"


    "Beats me. Cap is louder though."


    "Was it the snusnu? There there, it''s okay, don''t cry. Should we tell her?"


    "Rosalia''s smart. She already knew the word s-!"


    "WAAAAH NO no no!"


    Stop saying that word! No no no no I am not having this conversation here or ever! Go talk to Gable you brats! I''m not even crying! I''m not responsible for anything!!!


    The cursed door to father''s office slams open with the sound of mother''s familiar "oh dear!".


    No no no oh please don''t mind us at all, we''re just on our way out of here.


    I really don''t think I can look at either of my parents in the eyes right now. I understand they''re humans and my sister and I were created somehow, yes of course I really do. But they''re my parents!?!!


    After all this time I''ve really come to see them with the same level of embarrassing as actual biological parents, which they technically are. Absolutely are, I think I''m going to be sick. The shame, the cringe, I really can''t.


    "Rosalia! Rosa why are you - ...You there....unhand my daughter." comes a low voice I almost don''t recognize.


    Father...


    I don''t want to think about why it''s pitched that way and cower even lower, gripping into the kindergartners. I almost feel bad for the kids for getting caught up in this messed-up family drama but I''m busy trying to save my own hide here.


    "Guys, start running."


    "But your da is really scary looking."


    "And he smells funny. Sorry?"


    "Run! Lukas ice it! Amar speed run us now! Go go go don''t you dare let them get me! Go!"


    The worst things always happen whenever Gable isn''t around. This is why Gable took us away isn''t it? Stupid gross couple!!!


    Curse my life, oh why me?! Wherever Lilyanne is I bet she''s having a much better time.


    ----


    ------


    Baby Bonus:


    ------


    ---


    "Mama! Mama?"


    "Well Lilyanne my dearest sweetest little baby girl, this is certainly my not as little girl''s room. Yes this is her dresser and all her lovely things! So many things. Huh? When did she get this many things?"


    "Mama?"


    "Maria doesn''t seem to be here sweetheart!"


    "*hic* Mwaamaa?"


    "Ahhh Lily, don''t cry. I''m sure Maria is around somewhere, she''s just not in her room!""


    "Waaaaaaaah Mwamwa! No mamaaaaaaa!!!!"


    "My what healthy lungs you have! Almost as healthy as Rosalia''s! You''re getting so much stronger Lily! "


    "WAAAAAAAHHHH MWAMA!!! LILLI WANT MAMAAAA!!!!!"


    "SHhh Shhh don''t cry! Gwampapa'' is here! So don''t cry so much Lillyanne, or Maria will really be mad at me if she sees you like this!!! "


    "*Hic Hic* WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"


    With a burst of not so beautiful fountain works, a little toddler drives a grown man into the pits of panic and stupid desperation. But what, oh what could soothe the sweet little screaming creature?! Her mother? Well too bad, her mother wasn''t there.


    Maria was a big girl now and had to do big girl things too. Ah, they grow up so fast.


    What about her mother''s things? Yeah that worked when Maria was small. Sometimes she liked smelling his cloaks and clothes, wrapped herself with them. That will work!


    "Look at this Lilyanne! Your mama''s...errr uhh...what is it? Shawl! It''s sparkly!"


    To soothe the screeching angel, he had to delicately wave the delicate article of cloth back and forth in front of her wet face. It took some time but eventually the darling little girl calmed down to giggle and grasp at the shawl.


    "Mama!"


    "Yes Lilyanne, it''s your mama''s shawl and this is her room and she''ll be back very soon for you!"


    "Mama!" chattered the toddler, chubby little arms waving and finally catching at the shawl, which she clumsily started wrapping around her grandfather''s head.


    "Mama!" she pointed and clapped.


    Oh isn''t that just precious?


    "Hahaha! No my silly sweetie poo! It''s grampapa''!"


    "Mama?"


    "Grampapa!''


    "*hic* Mama?"


    Oh dear, oh no.


    "*hic hic* Mwama?"


    He grabbed the next article of clothing before his delicate baby granddaughter turned on the monstrous water fountain again. She was so well hydrated!


    Hours later, his daughter did return, with her listless depressed husband and red struggling firstborn in tow. Huh, what happened there?


    "Papa? Why are you wearing my things?"


    His lovely Maria asked, genuinely concerned and drawing the attention of the rest of her family to the disaster of a scene in front of them. At least Lilyanne was happy.


    "Bwaaaaaahhahahahahah! Holy-hahahahahah! Princess!!! It''s a princess grampa!!! Holy disne-pffft bwahahahha!!!"


    And so was Rosalia if her roaring laughter was anything to go by,


    "PFFFFFt where''s a camera bwahahaha!!! Gable, where''s Gable?! No Gable! Bwahahhaha! Guys? Guys get in here, you have to see this!"


    "Honored Father? I don''t believe that''s your color?"


    "Frederick dear! Don''t discourage him, papa if there''s anything you want to tell me of course I''ll love and support you no matter what! Oh but papa not the Downing gown! Oh and it doesn''t go with those stockings."


    "That''s what I''m saying my love it''s an awful clash of colors and parts! The low neckline works surprisingly well though?"


    Hey don''t look at him, he''s surprised the thing even fits! Chest, waist and butt. What is with the additional butt thing on women''s dresses these days?


    By the way does this dress make him look fat?

 78 The sound of money

    Money makes the world go round.


    I feel much better with money. Good enough to even stand to be around my disgustingly gross parents.


    Please shut up and just throw me money.


    We do not speak about what I may or may not have seen in the very distant past. Do not. All attempts at communication or pathetic excuses are met with drowning screaming and me ignoring. Lalalala I do not hear anything~


    I use the excuse that seems to have taught common children all around the world, in all planes of reality. Animal planet.


    Thank you boys, for the awfully crass but sufficient excuse. Blessed be children''s love and acceptance of animals, especially Lukas.


    While my words horrified mother, I''m the one that is rightfully horrified.


    Just lie! Kids don''t need to know anything! Not at this age! You wouldn''t do this to Lilyanne!?


    At least father had a proper sense of shame and humiliation. But he quickly got over it when we established the ''Rosalia is not listening lalala~" rule.


    Instead, just keep up with the money. Money solves all.


    "Frederick dear I do worry about this?"


    "Maria my love all small children are attracted to shiny things, as are many adults. It''s nothing so odd, why you yourself are fond of beautiful accessories that glimmer in the light?"


    " Yes but - it''s very different darling."


    " How so my turtledove? "


    "Well, for one my dearest husband, it is true that our sweet youngest and this humble wife sincerely enjoy beautiful things that shine and sparkle."


    "Yes, and so? "


    " However our eldest appears to only be attracted to the shine of ...gold and silver coins."


    "I beg to differ dear."


    Like a boring old person, father throws another coin, copper, unfortunately, as if he were playing fetch with a small animal.


    Move over Lilyanne, that one is mine. I don''t mind cutting off my own sister for money. Don''t cry Lily, you have no need for penny pushing as I do. You''ll get your chance


    "See my most divine love, she does coppers too. Yes, our Rosalia is much more economical. "


    Whatever he throws out next is indeed sparkly, but worthless. Your turn Lily, go fetch.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Oh my charming darling, while I am so glad to have us all back together and spending time so comfortably again, you truly don''t see a problem with this sort of...activity?"


    "...No?"


    A shiny round gold thing goes flying too far and I''m rushing with my short little legs. The coin lands and rolls under an ottoman but no fear, I am more than small enough to crawl.


    God damn rich people.


    It''s not like I don''t know what he''s doing. Treating me like a cat with a laser. Only the shiny of precious high-value coins is even more irresistible to me than a moth to the flame. I need money. So much money. Money is not my end all be all but all sorts of goods and services can be exchanged with money. Can''t waste the chance for such free easy money.


    When I crawl out of the dark cramped space, coin safely tucked away, I''m met with a sight that would make any common man see furious red and green.


    Actually, I''m a girl, and I''m still full of righteous rage and envy!


    Looming in front of me is a scene out of a hated fantasy, not meant for normal eyes. A polished man that can only be described as a pretty flower boy lazily lounges on a plush loveseat, gold at his feet and a gorgeous well-endowed beauty pressing into the crook of his arm. On his other side rests a fine crystal glass and decanter of probably very expensive amber red liquor. If he runs low, a line of diligent maids pours his glass perfectly half full and offers shiny plates of fresh fruit and Hors d''oeuvre. The half slicked auburn hair and pop off the top two buttons of his probably too expensive silky shirt, exposing creamy collarbones, gave off the impressions of a rich waste. A terribly wealthy and hateful waste living in the lap of luxury.


    Near his lap lightly spills a blanket of riches, like a messy bucket of popcorn. What a metaphor. He throws a grape from the nearby plate, which gets the attention of a dumb tiny cherub chasing after it with precious giggles.


    How hateful. To think an angel like Lilyanne came from 50% of that DNA. The sight alone makes my blood boil in indignation almost as much as the mention of the old man. It''s a different type of hateful rage than my reaction to grampa, but grampa is crazy.


    God damn rich people.


    Father''s golden eyes, the same terrible shade of my most precious money, narrowed in amusement. Sparkling gold, same as the gold in his lap, the gold piled at his feet and in his hidden safes and account. So much gold.


    My throat itches to yell out all sorts of scathing insults but the tips on his long fingers dance upon the shinies. He pinches and tosses a large coin, like flipping it into a fountain right at his feet.


    I sprint for it.


    Free money!


    "It''s actually quite good Maria my love, for Chippy to be able to recognize what''s valuable and what''s not, especially at her age. Wouldn''t want our children to be so easily.... "


    Another shiny goes flying, but it''s just a rock. Not even a valuable one. Lilyanne giggles in glee and chases after it, landing with her pumpkin butt up in the air on the nearby cushions.


    "It is indeed a harsh world out there my beloved sun and stars, one must choose their endeavors carefully. It''s good to be open as it''s good to be ambitious. But darling, our baby stars are nowhere near grown enough to be able to tell! I fear, rather than a lesson of value they, particularly one, are learning something more....vicious."


    Oh my god it''s a pearl! I got it I got it, you can''t trick me with the fake throw! Hand over the pearl already you sick rich bastard!


    But it''s more than a cheap shot, he merely drops it into his lap! I have no choice but to climb the couch and his legs like Jack and the bean stalk. Ugh, the things I do for money!


    "Vicious is good my Maria, my heavens. Vicious will keep them afloat in society. A society that while you may have found easy to integrate into given your status, they may not. You had honorable father but sadly our girls will be judged by my unfortunate name. "


    "Oh Frederick dear."


    "Now now Maria, there''s nothing that can stop the gossip of noble circles. Forgive me, by marrying this unworthy man, our precious offspring cannot claim any 3rd generation excuses. "


    "There''s is nothing to forgive, oh do forgive me for..."


    Blah blah blah, is anyone going to pay me in some more nice valuables or do I have to try my luck elsewhere? It''s already disgusting enough to be in the same room as these two when they''re all flirty like this. It''s awful. ...


    Lalalalala~I don''t remember anything! Ohohoho nothing at all!


    As much as I curse rich people, father is a very good rich person. Not particularly because he gives to lots of charities or any fake PR stunts like that. See grampa may have accumulated a vast amount of wealth in his youth from adventures and stuff. My nerd of a father, however, turns that initial money into even more money.


    Grampa''s inventions are patented, researched and distributed into the correct market. His treasury, collecting dust or to be drained into the troops and household, were properly budgeted and allocated, leaving no room for thievery or fraud, with my father in charge.


    In an entirely different sense than grampa, my father is a terrifying man. A lot of people''s daily work and livelihood depends on him and his mighty signature.


    Mother, however, is a much simpler person, despite her love of expensive pretty things. She''s a true second-generation wealthy heiress. A living breathing stereotype of grandeur and ignorant bliss. That''s not to say she''s an awful person with no accomplishments but...oh damn rich people.


    At least father makes the money.


    Still, it''s these sorts of couples I hated the most at work, whether it was at the bar or planning events. Blissful lovey dovey beautiful people....just ew.


    Ones that are just so perfect for one another, primarily because they are sooooo rich and have never known hardship. "Who has time to be in love when you''re busy worrying about money?" True true. Amen to that. My own parents, my real ones, were a good case scenario on that.


    Now I''m generalizing here. There''s plenty I don''t know about my current parents, let alone their past. Look how much I''ve already learned in these short years that the original Rosalia never knew. Father can draw and has a stupid "commoner" fascination. Mother is horrifying despite appearances and has a surprisingly very painful grip.


    But wow do I hate couples like these.


    My old friends heard me rant enough. More than them, a certain former boss of mine would always yell at me to shut up if I was so bitterly jealous, which I was not. He was the one cussing out overly cute couples then going to cry at his Korean dramas in his office, that hypocrite. It''s cool, we got him back by hooking up his speakers to the dancefloor once.


    Ah good times at the bar, good times, gross couples aside.


    See, I''m getting better at remembering my old life. Before such thoughts would have me tearing up, how sentimental of me. It must be because it''s too difficult to process any strong emotions in this small sensitive body. I only have the emotional range of a toddler after all. Coming to terms with death is a hard topic for anyone, especially when it''s technically all over.


    Which is great!


    No more insane overtime! More more slaving away for a paycheck, or losing sleep over a commission. No more crazy managers piling up even more product research or PR events for me to juggle! Hahaha see you all handle old clients without me, I''m not that easy to replace! I hope all my old bosses suffer!!!


    Cept the old bar, bossman was cool.


    As naggy as that forever alone loser was, he was an alright boss. Gave me my first job and all, even though I still only in high school when I started. A bit of cushion money, a place to go besides an empty home.


    His little brother, our cool glasses manager, was more of the actual boss though. We never did stop calling him glasses manager huh? Then there was the youngest brother, ah what a baby brat. Someone should get it through his skull not to give out so much stuff for free. It''s fine if it''s was me, or another close friend or two, but it''s not good for business. That bar really was a strange sort of family business.


    It wasn''t all good and fun, after all it was customer service.


    But it wasn''t so bad. Kinda loud and messy at all times in the back but it wasn''t unlike the friendly atmosphere at grampa''s troops. Our bouncers were huggable and hilarious at intimidating losers. Our kitchen staff was always making something weird in the back and calling it the daily special. The pretty waitress sisters taught me all sorts of tricks and tip making.


    I kinda sorta really missed that sort of place when I finally graduated and got that dream job with the #######paycheck. AHhhh...more like hell job. Goodbye life, hello money.


    The things I do for money.


    Maybe that''s what I''m unconsciously trying to replicate here, no not the money. I was born hella rich in this life, the only consolation to being a future villainess.


    It''s not technically my money, but the family''s, however, if I play my investments right I''ll be independently rich in no time.


    What I admit that I miss is that odd sort of back bar and not just the free drinks. I miss that easy dynamic that everyone had. I miss our jokes and the ragtag family-like support and structure.


    I suppose that''s why I may have been getting weak lately. Weak to this strange family of Rosalia. I shouldn''t but it''s rather easy to just fall into the pace of things as a Ventrella. Why I tried creating a nicer kind of work environment for my kitchen and overall staff.


    Isn''t this just the same as before? Isn''t this just me being lonely and trying to fill the void? Ahh I''m really still such a pathetic person, what a shame. To be fair there''s still lingering feelings, hunger, from the original goods.


    Still, there''s no shitty sweet talking bartender to rant to in this lifetime. No silly chatty friends and coworkers to sling their arms around me and take my mind off of things. It''s just me here.


    Just little old me vs the gross and oblivious couple, great.


    Gross gross gross. If no more money is being tossed out I''m just going to cower behind some seat cushions. Cool, thanks.


    I''d escape if I could but this close to my bedtime I have nowhere to go. Even my staff need their closing clean up time. Besides, it may not look like it currently but the parentals are watching me, or well us, since we got back.


    Also, father is currently taunting me by both holding my waist but waving a gold coin hypnotically in front of my face.


    There''s money but I can''t move, my arms are tragically too short to reach. Below me is a ferocious toddler, cutely hopping up and down because she can neither climb nor reach her disgusting parents properly.


    Oi stupid couple, you already have children here. If you want to make more, go stare into each other''s eyes in some other room and put us to bed already. Also, pay me more money for dealing with this.


    I really am no good with lovey dovey couple like this. Even if I had experience in it, it just makes me shiver uncomfortably. I suppose it''s a good thing for married couples to actually like each other, let alone...love? Oh ew. Yeah let''s not think about that.


    At least they don''t argue like my old folks back home. None of that stress, a whole load of different kinds of stress. Like making money!


    Father''s hand casually droops to low and I pounce, grasping his long fingers and the precious shiny gold trapped in them. Success!


    Gold is precious you know? I have to sell how many soda pops to even make a proper copper then alone a full sized gold coin like this?


    Yeah, it''s going into my personal escape fund. My investment money has to be returned to the Ventrellas after I start making enough profits. Don''t want them chasing after me for a debt. I''m not that sort of petty thief. But this sort of freely given allowance is all mine! The undeniable benefit of being born into an ultra-wealthy family! If I''m very careful about saving and investing it, I can live the rest of my life post getting disowned quite comfortably.


    "What''s that Chippy, you want attention as well?"


    I respond to father''s absolutely ridiculous question with a glare and a tug at his finger. Let go of the gold already you wasteful miser. Go do some paperwork or something.


    "Hmm it can''t be helped. Children are ever so needy I suppose."


    He gives me a hateful pretty boy smile as he messes up my hair even further and throws me onto mother''s side of their fused shared lap space. If it weren''t for the gold coin, I wouldn''t have kept quiet. But money. Then he bends to reach and lift up a cooing Lilyanne, who babbles happy nonsense even I can''t decipher.


    I''m sure we make a very spiteful family portrait right now. Of course, that''s impossible with the angel that is Lilyanne and the heavenly beauty that is mother. With them in the picture, it''s a glorious and glamorous scene. But the sheer amount of gold and money just laying around like movie popcorn is enough to cause a common thief to have a stroke.


    Good thing I''m not the common sort.


    While mother''s lap is very warm and squishy, it''s further away from the money pile. At least it''s a good sign that mother''s eating well and getting healthier. I hear she wasn''t always as weak and frail but that our birth took a lot out of her. From my memory, though she was always this delicate sort of Barbie doll, perfect, confined to beautiful controlled spaces and maybe not even real.


    It''s fine if she''s getting healthier overall. Maybe it will let her be more lenient in my groundings, let us out more!


    Lilyanne may not care where Mother decides to trap us but I do! I can''t stand to count another dress! Unless I make it dresses that can fit grampa? Hmm that''s a new game to try.


    But let''s avoid getting grounded again in the first place! I have a busy schedule to keep if I want to have all my affairs organized and my business start ups running by the time I turn 5. I have a little over 2 years left.


    Of course, having more money helps.


    "Oh dear, our Rosalia seems to be reaching out for you my darling?"


    No no, it''s the money I''m making grabby hands towards. Instead of keeping that in my head, I should make it clear. People like father prefer direct communication on personal matters or else they don''t get it, let alone respond. I make it as simple yet childishly passable for mother not to ground me again.


    "Money. Gold. Gimmie."


    Father lets out a prideful sort of laugh that only good looking people can pull off. Though I must admit, with the red of the wine and his auburn hair, the lavishness of the room and atmosphere, he looks somewhat shall I say, villainous?


    All is forgiven as he jingles a handful of gold coins at me. Lilyanne on his other side is more content to chew on some cheese, leaving the palmful of precious coins vulnerable and open for my taking. I feel my own eyes grow wide but I just can''t...move!


    "Oh dear...darling again I entirely blame you." frowns mother, tightening her hold on me even further. Let me go mother, the money is just right there!


    "It''s nothing so strange my beloved. Many people, even the young, knows the value of gold. But I surely didn''t teach her that!"


    " You didn''t have to oh wretchedly wonderful love of my life. I''m afraid it''s as genetic as your hair."


    "Maria, my divine prisonkeeper which I would, of course, have it no other way, I find that both impossible and highly offensive. Her hair isn''t even that red?"


    "Yet, not if I can help it."


    "You like my hair!"


    This is the part where mother cruelly rips me away from the human gold ATM. While I do appreciate her trying to tame the mess that is my hair, she has unnecessarily scooted herself, and thus me, to the other side of the sofa.


    So close yet so far from my precious money, I can only helplessly baby cry in my cutest voice and reach out with chubby pathetically short arms. Cute attack! Let me at the moolah mother!


    Of course, it proves to be absolutely ineffective on the nerd. All he does is shake and laugh at my pain. How rude! Has anyone told father he gets red super easily? It''s getting worse because he''s trying to hold it in so mother doesn''t get offended at the volume.


    I guess I have to do all the work on my own, typical.


    "Mama? Mama don''t be mad."


    "Oh my baby bird, I''m not angry. But I am worried. You must not grow to concern yourself so much with riches. All that is glitters is not gold."


    "I know that mo-mama. That''s why I only chased after the real money."


    "Oh that''s not quite what I meant. Oh, there''s a lot of more important things to this world than money. It scares me, my honey sweet darling, to even need to explain this thing to you. "


    "I know mama. Money can make men do bad things and make them stupid. But I''m a girl and I''m very smart about it. "


    "....."


    Father has given up with holding it in, otherwise, he may have choked from holding back his own laughter. At least Lilyanne is enjoying the shaky ride, clapping pieces of cheese along with father''s hilarity.


    "Well isn''t this familiar?" he chuckles out, tears forming at the edges of gold.


    "I blame you entirely darling."


    "Now now my greatest treasure, I do believe it took you a bit more time convincing a certain someone? A few years perhaps?"


    "Yes but that was against a horribly naive golden carrot boy and not my own child! How is she infected so young! She''s only seen your family once! Have they been sneaking through without my knowledge?!"


    "Other than one of my nephews in honorable father''s barracks, I must say without a doubt, no. And do trust me on that, I make sure of it."


    "Oh of course I do darling, would never doubt you on that."


    "Forgive me my love, I''m not sure where Rosalia gets it from either. As far as I''ve seen, and I do very much check, she''s never so much as interacted with young Philipe nor any such contacts....too busy with certain other brats."


    "Oh hush on that nonsense darling. Yes at this point I suppose it really is a family curse, just like your hair."


    "You like my hair?!"


    She does, always playing with it like a flirty girlfriend. Except she''s the legal wife so everything is gross and fair and I really should go before I witness any more trauma,


    You can let go of me at any time now? Why is Lilyanne allowed to just roll around on the couch and I''m trapped between the two of you? This is biased and unfair punishment. I didn''t even do anything yet!


    Is it the money? Finder''s keepers, if father threw it then it''s mine. Duh.


    "But of course darling, I just can''t help the tears that come to my eyes when I recall how you would comfort yourself to sleep in childhood."


    "...Refresh my memory Maria my shining jewel. Whatever are you talking about?"


    "Oh you know, how you would listen to the soothing clinging and clanking of money as you counted yourself to sleep."


    "....That''s called accounting my love and I still do that, though not on purpose. Sometimes I still lose track of time when working on such affairs and the sound of coins really is soothing. "


    It is! You don''t get it with paper money but the clinking of golden coins is truly very satisfying! Like some medieval hoarding goblin part of my brain is pleased and sated. See I''m not alone in this, father agrees.


    "A curse! Don''t worry my poor golden darling, I shall save you from such a doomed fate!"


    "My starlight hero, I do swoon in your hands."


    "Not in front of the maids darling, I can''t bear for another woman to see you like this."


    And they''re flirting again. Just end me. End me right here before I make myself sick all over again from what I may or may not have seen.


    "That''s just sad. Go sing yourselves a lullaby or something. In fact put Lily and I to bed!" also give me more gold.


    Father''s swooning is very ineffective with me right here. Please remove me from the scene immediately. Instead, his head lands somewhere awkwardly cushioned on mother and half squishing me, thus trapping me further.


    "Yes I do suppose it''s late enough in the night for the girls!" exclaims mother.


    Lilyanne babbles in her own toddler nonsense language, not at all sleepy. Though I suspect it''s coming from the amount of cheese and crystalized fruit. Yes, the nasty old people kind. Sweets really need an update in our world, no no no even our household alone!


    "Sad? Now what is that Chippy? And what is this lullaby that can solve it?"


    "Father are you being serious right now?"


    "Quite."


    "You''re kidding me. Mother, father claims not to know what a lullaby is and that''s even sadder."


    "Rosalia dear, not everyone knows what goes on in another person''s mind. Your mother here doesn''t know either? Is it another one of papa''s things? Did he teach you?"


    "....no. It''s just....a thing. That almost everyone does or hears as a kid? Like a soft song or something. Mothers often sing them to their children to get them to go to sleep but it doesn''t have to be just for that."


    I feel a twitch in my temple. They''re both pulling my leg here! But while I can call out father for messing with me, mother gives an honest to god innocent expression of pure ignorance. There''s no way, no damn way. Even if they don''t have the word lullaby, surely they know soft humming or singing to lull a child to sleep?


    Oh my god is why I never got a lullaby, no one in my weird family knows what this is? No way, even common people have their folk songs and stuff!


    "You know! Like lalala~go to sleep~ go to sleep little baby~." I generically try to recall something.


    "Oh that''s lovely!"


    "What a fascinating concept? Mothers often do this you say? In which sort of country?"


    "Ours? Everywhere!"


    "Oh well, then I certainly didn''t know. Oh do forgive this inexperienced mother and useless wife."


    "Oh no my beloved, I''m certainly in the dark on the subject myself. Then again I think if my own birth mother had ever opened her wrinkled beak to sing I may have died in shock and terror. Is it common among the locals?"


    "I would think so!? Ask anyone when you''re out again!"


    I can''t believe this, actually yes I can given my parent''s own maternal influence, of lack of them. But I really can''t believe this.


    "It really was a lovely sort of sound? Rosalia can you do that again? Show your mama so she can try?"


    "Is it a common universal thing? Any particular words to repeat of a rhythm?"


    "Hehehe Rosa swoft!"


    Rather than answer any of the nerd''s questioning, it''s easier to just comply with mother''s requests. If anything it may calm down Lilyanne for bed. Bad girl, go clean your teeth.


    I''m not the world''s best singer, nor do I have Lilyanne''s angelic voice in the future. But I think can I make do with something as simple as a lullaby. There''s a lot of classics to sing, from Rockabye Baby to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.


    But I''m lazy and keep it to one commercialized song, the first thing that pops into my head in its entirety.


    La la lu, La la lu~


    Oh, my little star sweeper,


    I''ll sweep the stardust for you,


    La la lu, La la lu,


    Little soft fluffy sleeper,


    Here comes a pink cloud for you¡­


    La la lu, La la lu


    Little wandering angel


    Fold up your wings close your eyes.


    La la lu, La la lu


    And may love be your keeper


    La la lu, La la lu, La la lu~


    It takes no more than two minutes, even as I stretch out the song to remember the lyrics. Going lala lu is very easy now. Movie songs are just easier and they sound classy and nice. But somehow Lilyanne has knocked out entirely and mother is half dozing.


    The surrounding maids are of mixed reactions, but they''ve all obviously been raptured in listening to the new song.


    It''s father''s reaction that scares me the most, gold eyes glittering like stars as he stares at me directly in shock and something else.


    "Songs....Chippy...you can compose songs?"


    "....no....I can just hum or sing things I heard in my head...."


    "...in your little head you say."


    "Oh that''s lovely." croons mother, voice sweet with sleep, and not at all stopping father wherever he''s going. I don''t like where he''s going with his tone of voice.


    "Yes, it really is. And where...just where did my adventurous baby bird hear this song?"


    Uh oh...I can no longer see the color of father''s eyes, not when he grins this wide. It''s his business smile. Not the kind he shows to clients but personal half crazed one when he catches onto something profitable or stupidly interesting. Another project to add on to his growing list.


    "Um....kind of....once in a dream? And around!"


    "Lovely, really lovely. Could you do it again?"


    This time however father snaps for paper, ink and a pen, the wine and fruit cleared for his supplies. I think I''m getting into more trouble than I intended, again.


    I''m just going to go to sleep now, good night.


    ----

 79 Plays itself

    Remember all the times I was all ''oh Rosalia was such a silly girl, how was she ever afraid of that nerd of a father''? Well, I remember now, I really do.


    Homewoooooooork. So much homework.


    Yes, I recall now just who hired all my disasters of tutors in the last life. Just who was the parent that thought it was not only ok for an elementary-age child to have 10 hour daily lesson plans plus extracurriculars. The one who initially struck so much fear yet a need to please that young Rosalia basically became a workaholic who lost her childhood to nothing but lessons.


    Ah, and another thing.


    I DONT LIKE THE HARPSICHORD.


    It''s just a bad piano, a very very annoyingly pitched piano. What is this thing and why do I even need to bother learning anything? It''s not worth anything to me?! With my tiny stubby little toddler fingers, I can''t even reach and press all the keys. There''s no pedals and no tone?


    Even tiger parents from the modern era don''t force babies this young to start learning instruments!


    Piano lessons don''t start till at least pre-school and at least the piano doesn''t have such disaster high keys! It has to do with struck strings vs plucked strings yeah yeah I still hate this thing.


    Did the original Rosalia have to learn the nails on a chalkboard piano? Actually yes, yes she did. It was fine art that was made psuedo mandatory by all accomplished people of a certain accumulated level of wealth and social status. If Rosalia Therese Ventrella could not play the standard harpsicord, then what would society think!? What would they say? It was unacceptable not to know.


    Did she enjoy it? No, no damn way. It was painful and messy and my ears, her ears, were always hurting after the end of any practice, more so than my fingers. Even on days she messed up more and the ''tutors'' abused small fingers red, raw and bleeding.


    Did Lilyanne have to know the harpsichord? Nooooooooooo, she sang and played the damn harp. Like some generic angel in a painting. How fitting.


    I hate the harpsichord, no no no. I am not playing this awful thing again! It sounds terrible and there''s no way I can replicate what I can sing in the shower out onto this stupid extinct piano.


    "You have very strong feelings about the harpsichord for only hearing it a few times."


    "Father. I hate it. Haaaaaaaate it"


    "It''s an instrument made of nothing but wood, bits and string Chip, not a monster."


    "Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate."


    "I can see that."


    I am trapped between father''s lap and two layers of dark keys attached to some very annoying strings. I hate this death trap to my ears. It''s so awful there''s no way I can think clearly let alone recall any nice melodies. Each and every pluck of the strings, no matter how skilled the player, sounds to me like the yowling of fighting street cats in a metal trash can.


    Surprise surprise, my father can play the harpsichord. In fact, he can play many things, which explains how he even knows how to copy down my lullaby into actual notes. Neeeeerrrrrd.


    The harpsichord is a stationary instrument and decorative statement piece to anyone''s home. To be fair he was born and raised from an old and respected family line. It would be odd if he didn''t have a few of those ''typical'' rich people hobbies and skillsets that''s suppose to display class and refinement. Aka neeeeeeeeeeeeerd.


    But seriously. A rich guy that likes to draw, design things, play music and all other sort of mundane things? Who let this obviously liberal arts student go to business and law school?


    Where was this sucker hiding in my last life? How did he make prime minister? What the hell?


    But I guess that''s only in this lifetime. Rosalia of the past hardly saw her father unless it was time to report her progress on lessons or accompany him to certain relevant meetings. A normal child would find these very boring events. However, the original Rosalia was always on and eager to please, despite her nerves.


    It''s very odd, the differences between this life and last. Differences I can''t seem to explain.


    Father was never touchy in Rosalia''s memories unlike now where I''ve been swung around and trapped a lot. The most she got was the rare head pat or an approving nod when she made suitable results. Rather than praise, she was encouraged to study and work harder.


    Which actually isn''t so different from my own childhood?


    School, cram school, tutoring etc etc. There wasn''t much time in a day to breathe, let alone just be a kid. There was summer vacation but even that gave way to prep. school. It got even worse when my parents first separated because then there was nowhere to go but school.


    Ah, no way! My precious second chance at childhood can''t be lost this soon, or is it third? Either way noooo I don''t want it! I don''t want any more harpsichord lessons! Or anything that will waste my precious time.


    "Of course it sounds awful if you press the keys like that."


    "Every sound from this thing is awful."


    "Now now chippy, that''s just because you haven''t hit the keys at the right moment. When one does, then the instrument might as well play itself."


    Wonderful advice father, yes just hit all the right notes at the right moment. Suuuuuuure. Even without facing him, he must feel my eye rolling just radiating off because he chuckles.


    "I don''t expect you to magically know how to play the thing, Rosalia. But I do need to match and tune whatever comes out of your mouth into an actual instrument and there''s no better standard than the harpsichord."


    "Go play the harp then. At least that sounds better."


    "The harp my dear is a lovely sounding instrument for any occasion because even beginners and fools can pluck some pretty notes. "


    Did father just burn the harp? I''m too much in shock. That''s Lilyanne''s favored instrument! Your precious angelic child''s!? I mean he doesn''t know yet but what? And he sounds so petty about it too.


    "Oh don''t get me wrong Chippy. The harp is extremely difficult to play well, but it''s easy to play with. Many a good harpist get injured quite often on that thing, plucking and switching fingers directly. It''s the listeners that''s the problem. "


    As father gets up slightly, I''m lifted with him till I''m standing on the seat. From this angle he reaches over the exposed strings, strumming some chords in a lovely little pattern.


    "The strings have life to them.... go ahead and pluck one, gently. "


    Since the strings are looser than that of a modern piano there''s no fear of it snapping with a brush or a touch. Besides, I don''t think the father is letting go of me till I do as he says. So I do, one two strings at random.


    "Doesn''t it sound nice? That''s all people want sometimes, something that simply sounds nice or suits the atmosphere. That isn''t music, but merely noise. What does the sound create though? What is it composed of and what does it means- that is something not asked enough."


    I nod my head, understanding a little more than half of his intentions.


    From Rosalia''s experience, the harpsichord was just noise. Even if I memorized notes and knew them to be songs. They were noise I had to play to prove something against the other girls and if I wasn''t the best at muscle memorizing those keys, then there was hell and disappointment to be had.


    I played like a trained monkey.


    Lilyanne played....I don''t know how to describe it. She had a gift in more ways than just one or two. They say that the sound of her harp alone could reduce a grown man to tears.


    I don''t know about the validity of that statement given her crazed fanboys but I do know that her playing was very beautiful sounding, much better than anything I could do even with hours of forced practice. Of course, they were different instruments but the point still stands. One was actually music, the other nothing but empty stringy noise.


    The metaphor and comparison to our lives doesn''t hurt me. It just is. Like how the sky is blue.


    "Would you rather start on the harp? For when you''re a little bigger and able to play? It is good because one doesn''t get too discouraged early on." father takes in my silence and leads with a question.


    Of course, I don''t want to play the harp! I''m not putting myself in direct competition with the artistic Lilyanne! That''s just rushing myself into future social suicide a bit faster.


    "No!"


    "But you said it sounded nice, beautiful even I would assume."


    "Yes yes it''s very beautiful but I still don''t want it."


    "Do you like it though?"


    "....Honestly father, no. It is very beautiful and I still don''t like it."


    Even without Lilyanne''s influence, it''s not something I would be interested in. Just not my sort of thing. It''s more than enough just to hear the strumming of Lilyanne''s practice fill the halls and drift from the windows.


    It was always so soft and gentle- never any halts, stalls or repeats.


    I remember being jealous, because her fingers never stung, never bled. One would think by playing strings with direct contact, she would have a harder time. But her hands were always so pretty, never swollen like mine were.


    "That''s due to your own negligence! Mistakes, full of improper mistakes!" rings a shrill voice in the archives of my memories. It would be followed by the sharp sound of something thin whipping across palms and fingers.


    The hands are some of the most sensitive parts of the human body. The amount of pain a child feels is often ridiculed since even the smallest thing can be the worse physical would they have ever experienced.


    I don''t want to be abused by those awful ''tutors'' again. Personally, I don''t want to see any of them again. Getting hurt for no reason, no gain is not on my agenda. Not again.


    I swear music and etiquette were the worst but history was quite up there as well. Rosalia''s hands, her feet, growing up they were always injured and in some stage of healing. Bandages covered by lace gloves and prettily tied booties.


    It was painful. Those memories are mine now, have been for quite a while. The sting, the constant ache and pains that simply cut and wore bone deep over time. It makes sense really, where Rosalia learned how to lash out. It was the most touch she ever received from others. When she wasn''t being obediently ignored and forgotten about, she was being...schooled.


    "Why is it only 93%?"


    It''s stinging, my palms are stinging and I''m trying not to cry. But holding it back only makes it worse when you''re a child.


    "Why is it so low?"


    "It''s still an A mommy. The teacher says that''s good, As still are the highest grade."


    Another smack of the stick, but this time against my bare calves. I grit my teeth because if I waver this early on it will only get worse. They come in succession, 3 more swatches.


    "For talking back to your elders! Disrespect. "


    "Yes mommy."


    "You don''t understand, just A is not good enough. 93? That is A-. you need A+. Even then it''s not good enough for others. I just do what is best for your future."


    "Yes mommy. I know. I''ll listen. "


    "Look. 96% here in History, English is ok but only 98% in Math. You are so close! Just two more points and full 100, you need to not play so much and try a little harder! The neighbor''s daughter is so smart, her mother brag to me about how she got 100% in Math and English. Do you know how embarrassed I felt when I tell people I send you to tutoring?"


    More than the stinging pain it''s the shame that courses black blood through my head and chest. It''s terribly heavy and might as well be laced with mercury. Shame at myself, my own lacking. If I just tried harder then I would be enough.


    But I keep falling short, always.


    Something is wrong with me, something is broken. I can''t function like other little girls. Nothing goes right and I am not right.


    Another swatch at my legs and I can''t control the hiccuping wail. I panic because I can''t cry, I''m not supposed to cry because that will only get me hit more but I can''t stop. Like a pressurized volcano with no other exhaust vents, I''m an explosion already erupting.


    "Stop crying."


    My legs must be bleeding because I feel something wet drip down through the burning. They wobble but I need to stay standing, hands obediently in view. But I can''t comply, I can''t stop crying, not just from the pain. I''m so frustrated, so ashamed.


    Why can''t I ever do anything right?


    If I was wasn''t so messed up, if I was smarter and better behaved would my mom and dad not have fought so much? Would they not have divorced and things still be easier?


    Of course not, because nothing I do is ever enough, I am not enough.


    "Stop crying! Other children have it so bad but here you are going to school and having good food to eat. It''s so shameful for you to cry, you have no reason to cry. "


    I know! I know. I''m in the wrong. I''m wrong. I''m sorry but I really can''t stop and the more you discipline me the more my body naturally cries. The marks on my calves must be deep at this point, I won''t be wearing shorts for awhile.


    "Stop crying."


    Another whipping swatch to the legs and my knees finally give.


    "Rosalia! Careful there."


    "Huh? Father?"


    I''m still at the seat of the harpsichord, about to tip off and over the bench if it weren''t for my father''s quick hands around my waist. All of a sudden it hits me that I am still two years old, small and soft, at the most vulnerable but simplest time of my life. Things like gate classes, honor rolls or standardized testing to higher education aren''t even a thing here. What small blessings.


    "You have made your distaste for music and instruments in general quite known Chippy but there''s no need to jump from them."


    "Ah yes, no. I mean, my legs just felt...weak, a cramp. I got a cramp in my leg."


    "Really now? Both of them?"


    Long fingers poke and prod at my chubby little legs after seating my snuggly on my lap. In smooth circular motions, they lightly massage at the ticklish soft flesh. It makes my twitch almost painfully and Father incorrectly believes he has found the source of my ''cramp'', focussing his ministrations on that spot.


    It hurts, it really hurts. Something inside me hurts and it''s not my legs. Maybe it''s my ears from the stupid harpsichord. My brain is all confused.


    My parents loved me, so they hit me. If they didn''t love me, they wouldn''t care enough to bother. They were doing it out of love, they were teaching me. It''s normal, It happens to all children. I shouldn''t cry after all this time. Shouldn''t have cried in the first place.


    The man in front of me right now is not really my father. He is oddly kind to me in this life but he is not my father. The daughter that he should have cared for, he never did, and she as long-dead as I have been alive.


    I almost feel bad for tricking him, just almost.


    "Don''t touch anymore, it hurts." this gentle touch surprisingly hurts more than any disciplined whipping.


    "Does it now? I''ll lighten up then. How''s that Chippy?"


    He does not stop massaging my little legs for any residual cramps, rather his touch becomes even lighter. His hands looking terribly large and calloused against my unblemished knees and calves. All of him is large, or rather I''m too small, for my entire body is encompassed in the shallow of his lap.


    I don''t know why I have to fight the feeling of crying. There''s no reason to cry. But I have obviously always been this sort of weak person, and the feelings are heightened in young Rosalia''s body.


    "Hmm what could have caused it? Children get all sorts of aches. Have you been eating properly with your grandfather and Gable? Hmm yes certain nutrient deficiency can cause spams. Does it still hurt? "


    Yes


    "I''m fine."


    Father makes an indulging smile at me that looks upsidedown from my angle. Being it''s his day off he didn''t bother with any hair gel or formal wear. So auburn red locks fall easily, tickling me as they brush when he inspects my legs closer.


    Don''t be so gentle with me, you''re wasting your efforts. I rather you hit me too, so I can never forgive you for it. You''re not my real father so I don''t have to forgive you for it. Just like those tutors.


    I''m not an idiot who confuses abuse for anything else. What my tutors did to their students was pure physical abuse. There''s no excuse, even if you want to use the context of this backward world.


    I''m just hoping to avoid any public flogging or other bad reputation stains this time around. I understand myself and Rosalia well enough to say we are both the very petty sort. Petty and with some tendency towards violence. Blame grampa for that.


    "You are feeling alright now, right?" examines father, feeling my forehead for any signs of a fever.


    "I told you I''m fine! Father, can we stop for now? I don''t think I can think of any nice lullabies or such songs anymore."


    Now that''s an odd concept, asking for mercy, a break. My tutors would have had my ear for that. Ah, what a conflicting feeling. I never want to see them again but I also want to pay them back in a much more satisfying way than a mere beating.


    Contrary to my expectations, father does not insist on squeezing whatever he''s plotting to do with my stolen songs.


    "Of course dear. There''s no need to get it out at any particular time." father nods agreeingly at me before tidying his notes. Oh the note sheets.


    "Do I really have to take harpsichord lessons when I''m older?"


    "At the very least the basics yes, and that only if you find another instrument you wish to specialize in. As a woman especially, you can''t be without proficiency in at least one musical art form."


    Even if I huff, it''s absolutely true. People would be more than happy to attack at such an obvious social weak point. Especially my particular type of enemies....it''s all a bad social-political play. What a headache. I see why father is riding off to the farm and construction projects so much rather than stay in court any more than necessary.


    "Fine. I understand. It''s an important weapon to use as a noblewoman. I guess I can just ask to learn something else later...."


    "You''re not just any noble Rosalia."


    "I know I know I''m a northern queen candidate, fiance to the stupid rock prince. If I''m not up to standards they court will tear me apart." I yawn, oddly tired.


    "That''s one way of putting it," hummed father with a tinge of amusement, "but no, that''s not your most difficult title. That was one you were already born with. You are Rosalia Therese Ventrella, firstborn to the Maria Hellia Ventrella and grandchild of the Ronald Ventrella. That alone is a tall order to fill."


    "That it is father, but I find you''re not including yourself in that list on purpose."


    He brushes his hand through his hair, effectively moving it partly to the side in a dashing manner. Then sighs, he has the audacity to sigh as that very same hand brushes over my head of hair right after.


    "I don''t understand this part. You have the same face, physically it''s the very same face...."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    There''s only person he could be talking about here. Lilyanne, my twin sister yes. That''s the whole thing about being born twins unless you''re fraternal. Rather than sassing him and interrupting him I just squint my eyes and glare. I get it I get it, I''m not as cute, that''s already obvious. Geeze I hear it all the time already just never directly from my family.


    "You''re twins...yet you''re the unlucky one that takes after me. Ultimately you look and act more like me...do you know what that means Rosalia?"


    With both hands, Father rumples my head and hair to a mess. It would make a normal child dizzy but I''ve been through far worse with grampa, and just shenanigans all around.


    "It means I have more of your stupid carrot hair genes and mother is very upset about that?"


    Father chuckles again and his hold on me stiffens in some way. The air gets oddly stale, a shiver of lingering fear rises from my spine. It''s familiar, tastes like the fear the original goods had. More nerves and anxiety of her reception than an actual fear of the man himself but fear none the less.


    Father smiles and it''s perfect. A K.O. to the hearts of any maiden or unsuspecting business associate.


    "It means, oh apple of my eye, that when people look at you they won''t just see your honored mother or grandfather first. They''ll see me...and they''ll still see Bicchieri."


    Will they? Will they really? Father kept us as far away as possible from interacting with his birth family. The elder Biccheris didn''t see me much as anything besides a useless pawn while the younger generation found me a business rival, at best a blockage to their easy path to sweet naive Lilyanne.


    I highly doubt something as simple as some red hues to my hair color will change much.


    Besides, after I turn 5, after my second baptism, what will it matter. Ventrella, Biccheri- I''m something all the more unique than that. Famous equal to Lilyanne''s blessed dawn.


    Father sees my grimace and takes it as a legitimate concern towards his words. He doesn''t know the future sentence about to be placed on my head.


    "Don''t worry Rosalia..."


    That''s another mystery I should delve deeper into. The animosity between father and the family we do not quite speak of, or to very often.


    "Why, because you''ll keep them away? Keep people from talking."


    "As much as I can yes, but that won''t be what will protect you best. As an individual of any worth ought to know, the best protection is strengthening yourself."


    Somehow that makes me shiver something worse than Tamera''s drills. Worse than any exercise aches and pains.


    Rosalia remembers, no, I remember the too complicated game of high society. A decorated battlefield between tea parties and balls, involving everyone and their connected properties, including the people working under them. It''s disgusting, it''s unnecessary, and it is the twisted blueblood pride of the wealthy with no other dignified profession. Too much time, money and high horse egos to gamble.


    "I''ll make sure you''re ready against them....Know that. No matter what they say in whispers, what schemes or verbal weapons they use. You''re beyond them, with nothing to fear or shame, as a lion has no heed of the pathetic sheep. You, my child, will always have the last laugh."


    I gulp and the awkward fear I''m feeling must be showing on my young face for father only keeps smiling in that pristine charming manner of his when he''s not running his mouth. That''s the thing, his polite poker face will never break unless he wills it himself. Unless it''s in private around mother, he never loses himself nor his image.


    "The harpsichord."


    "....what?"


    The man I call father in this life readjusts me again, giving himself more room to stretch out and make himself comfortable on the bench.


    "I admit, it makes a grating metallic sound of the mechanisms, rather than using hands to pluck the strings. It''s not an easy thing to play at all and it''s even more difficult to play something that even passes off as well enough."


    Is he saying that the vaguely threating talk about high society is over? All parts of me are saying that''s not the case.


    Grampa is confusing. He is an absurd powerful enigma half playing a fool with the other half legitimately dipped in the insanity that is just him. Mother is seemingly simple but overwhelmingly influential and oddly scary, everyone in the troops and household staff would agree.


    Father however...it''s hard to say. He''s a politician? A skilled one with so many cards and tricks up his sleeves, hidden by whatever face he wishes to show. Lately, though, I''m learning more and more of them, faces and cards.


    I don''t know what to make of them, only that this family gets stranger and stranger the longer I look.


    The only one I can truly say I know is Lilyanne. The only one I can fully predict is Lilyanne, know just exactly how she will hurt me.


    It does not hurt when father scoots the bench chairman just a bit, to press us closer to the keys and sit up in a proper position himself.


    "This thing is indeed a sharp bulky instrument, on certain keys, it sounds like scrapping bones with a sword, not a ounce of flesh left. But it is a well crafted standard for any fine event or fashionable household to have. Tune it well, time it right...."


    His hands, piano hands I notice, reach out on either side of me.


    "And the instrument might as well play itself."


    Before I can make sense of it, noise assaults my ears until it''s no longer noise but music. I can''t seem to see my father''s hands, they glide and move too quickly. Though I am trained in music in two worlds he''s far too quick for me to keep up.


    It makes me dizzy but I can''t look away nor turn off my ears of all things. The shrieking cats in the trash are nowhere to be heard. It doesn''t like any harpsichord I''ve ever heard, any instrument even. What are these nusances? How? How is it an entirely different thing in father''s hands?


    A confusing melody that is not easy to repeat and even more difficult to play. Up and down, somber then darker still despite the regal sound. It''s as complicated at the natural state of this world then breaks like air. Soft, playful, like the steps of a fairy before cascading into destroying the keys in beats I was mistaken as my own frantic heartbeat.


    This cannot be called classical music, can''t even be mistaken as it.


    If this was played on the modern piano it would impressive but nowhere near as striking, cutting. If it was an organ it would just be dead terrifying. Discordant repetitious music played from a violent dance of 10 fingers and 120 keys. It was made for this. This can only be as heard as a solo piece.


    Tears have long escaped down on my face and my heart is in my throat by the time the song finally ends, almost abruptly as it started. I have no idea even how long it''s been, for me to be enraptured by that performance. I''m still dizzy, from the whirlwind of a song or something more, I''m not sure.


    An enthusiastic appluase plays from somewhere, in my head, in the background from a peeking mother, Alfonso, and our staff.


    The crazy hands stretch then return themselves to being a part of my father.


    "Ah, still got it."

 80 How much homework?

    Lilyanne''s and my birthday is coming up and the whole household is under a lot of prep work. IT''s going to be another quiet year since we''re only turning 3, no need for a large public celebration. Still, it''s our birthday and there is work to be done!


    Including me.... homework is a pain. Why has father suddenly piled up all this upon me? Is it to keep me busy? Trust my parents to assume I would cause trouble and try to keep me quiet.


    Or is it because I''m not attending my lessons properly? They really are a waste of my time given that I already know everything, it''s far more useful to give the 101 classes to my staff.


    Father doesn''t disapprove of the idea and is paying the tutors accordingly with a contract correction. Once in awhile the staff members, especially my kitchens, takes field trips to the troops if there''s an interesting event or lecture going on. How do they know? The bulletin board is posted on the garrison grounds? Ah but talk does go around quickly in the kitchens and laundry.


    We''re even bringing in another fresh-face, one of the tutor''s relatives, to full time improve the efficiency of classes around the Ventrella household. What great employee benefits we have here.


    However, it is clear that the tutors and work assigned to me are far below my current level. Except for penmanship, I''m still practicing on the slates. Curse these tiny little hands! I know how to write okay, it''s just hard!


    Homework is the bane of young people and students all around the world in any world.


    Father has personally taken it upon himself then, to revise my lesson plans. Father has assigned Rosalia so much homework. Rosalia is not free. Rosalia is not pleased.


    "Why in the good heavens are you speaking that?" tapped Georgie impatiently, smacking my forehead with a rolled up parchment.


    Rude! I''m not a fly!


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Honestly the lack of respect that goes on here! Especially from Georgie! How dare you, you should be more like-


    "Eeep Miss. Rosalia!!! Let me get you a cold compass, a salve! George how could you do that to young misss!!! Eep the salve!"


    "..."


    Nevermind....Georgie you''re fine the way you are. Please don''t turn into Abigail. She has her heart in the right place but her hands and feet all over. Please calm down Abbey, and please don''t hurt yourself in any more accidents.


    "I''m fine, Abigail please get off the floor."


    "But your delicate skin Miss- ack it''s slippery!!!"


    "Really, it''s fine! Rosalia''s delicate stubborn forehead only gets smacked with the lightest most finest of expesinve parchment paper. Abbey, get off the floor?"


    "Eeep!"


    Luckily any mess she made is not on the main table, where my ''homework'' lies, but around the once carefully stacked jars of skincare.


    Again, I do not have an office and the kitchen is always too busy. So the soap work shed shall do! Understandably, the kitchen is not only the stomach but the heart of any household. I love my kitchens, but I cannot always stay in the kitchens.


    We need more kitchens more something.


    I could do my work in the library but oddly I do find it difficult to work in complete silence. It''s....awkward, yeah let''s go with that. That''s not to say I like loud commotion either? When I had to study or do a mass load of work I would often go to cafes or those sorts of places. Even the university or public libraries always had some sort of background noise.


    It''s not that I can''t work alone or in silence, you can always turn on the T.V. or some music...I just concentrate better in public. Always have. That''s why I would prefer to do my old homework at work in the bar or something.


    There are people to bother you yeah but also to make the time go by faster. If you had a question or needed help, then at least the possibility was there.


    Which is why I roped Georgie boy here in the present!


    "Why me....."


    "I know how well you can actually budget, get to it."


    "Eep young miss is there anything I can do to be of any more service to you?"


    "Oh no Abbey you''re doing more than enough by sorting and organizing for us."


    "I understand Miss Rosalia! I will work even harder in my lessons to be worthy of use!"


    "Err....no...but sure! Keep at it Abbey."


    There''s not much I can scam others into helping me with the historical reports and reading I apparently have to do. I have a bit of advantage using the previous good''s memories but my god is this tedious. Really now, who cares about the family line of yada yada family and who their third uncle married? Ah noble politics, just a bad game of genealogy.


    From a little more reading, I do note that the amount of family inbreeding is concerning. It''s still very much legal to marry your cousin during this era. Half siblings are sort of a gray area.


    Ew no. No this should not even be an issue but according to these ''noble'' family trees it still very much is. Bloodlines smudlines, this is some gross genetic disaster going on. If the noble class only marries within their social circles, those circles will just grow smaller and smaller until everyone is related to one another. Of course, there are a few ''bastard'' off spring who rise up to continue the line in branches.


    On the bright side, it''s gotten better the last few decades, probably due to the amount of new wealth and families rising up, a good number of them led from my own grampa''s old comrades.


    Well, that explains how some nobles were blessed with very....prominent chins ...or delicate sensibilities. Yeah, incest is not wincest.


    That''s enough gross history review for today. I''m sure I can recite this well enough to my father based on old memories. On to math!


    After a few minutes though, Georgie and I are beginning to have our brains overheat.


    "This is a joke right? Why is he making you calculate parts of the account books? I get your family line is known for being crazy strict and all smart and stuff but this is too much."


    "Crazy. I think we''re just crazy."


    "I meant your Lord father, crazy is the Ventrella tagline. Oh heavens they should write that down in the genealogy books, The Ventrellas- founded by Ronald Ventrella. Family virtue- insanity."


    "Why isn''t that already a thing? Ahhhh my head, this is so annoying."


    Why is father giving me actual real accounts? Actual logistics disguised at math homework? This is horrible!


    How much palm oil is imported to make a standard batch of soap? What is the price per ounce of almonds in winter versus summer? What is the price of almond oil accounting for labor and milling? Calculate the cost difference if new water mills are implemented versus traditional oxen led mill vs small batches of human hand mill. How much does it cost to purchase daily household egg use versus raising our own chickens? WTF?


    Normally kids my age would be learning their numbers right? Lilyanne can count to 7 at most!


    I understand, loud and clear that these are all very important details in the logistics that is my daily lifestyle. I see....a lot of soap and cooking ingredient related questions. Message heard loud and clear Father.


    Why don''t you give mother these questions?! Father of all people should know what her outrageous closet costs! Oh no she must be spending so much more for our birthday torture dresses right at this very moment!


    This is probably why I''m being kept distracted with all this...homework.


    I say math but there''s a lot of empty space for me to report I''m sure. But isn''t this overtop to expect from a toddler? Seriously what is with these questions?!


    If it costs 13 silvers to clothe a standard foot soldier, and the going rate of a tanner is 65 half coppers per suit, separate the cost of the material and the additional tailor''s labor.


    WTF? I mean...I suppose I could figure it out but that depends on the market rate? And this is only one example with double digits, there are far more cases here with mass numbers. Surely father doesn''t expect little old me to do all this? It''s very irresponsible of him to put these daily Ventrella operations in my hands, even if it''s just ''homework''.


    "Georgie, how much is the cost difference of nutmeg? Locally versus at the other market?"


    "3 whole silvers per ounce, can you believe it!"


    "Wait, large or small silvers?"


    "Large! So total that makes our savings..."


    "But the second part of the question asked how does it compare to the capital''s pricing too. And this year that''s a 1.3% import tax rate."


    "Are we using land or sea rates? Because local ship rates can go as high as 3x in a normal winter. Which means a market package of nutmeg could go for as high as multiple golds."


    "That makes sense since last year, autumn prices for local nutmegs were 73 large silvers for a canister. OF course, they can easily go up to gold after transport. Which means per ounce it would be..."


    Plop!


    Rather than Georgie or I, it''s Abigail that has fallen over with spiraling swirls in her eyes. I didn''t even do anything to her I swear? She wasn''t doing anything, just watching us? Is it really that overwhelming? What father does on the daily is far worse I''m sure. Still, out of everyone here, I''m the one who feels like falling over okay?!


    Luckily for me, I have Georgie here and his surprisingly good market math. Large numbers confuse him, as they do anyone, but add in the word ''apples'' or ''soap'' to the equation and he''s got it. Change some choice words to ''sale'' and he''s even faster.


    Is he a teen boy or a housewife?


    If Georgie wasn''t here I would take far longer to do this, hell maybe I''ll pull the Lilyanne card and go crying how I can''t do it. But then I won''t get my next allowance so easily....


    Hey hey Georgie, are you still even considered a jr. chef or has your position been turned into something closer to my personal assistant?


    "I get so much more work and get paid just as much!? What do you think!" cries Georgie, looking very close to breaking that slate, maybe over his own head, in frustration.


    "Hmm yes but I pay you in benefits so it works out."


    "What benefits?!!?!"


    I make to pat his supple cheek, smooth and soft as a baby''s butt. I would know for I am always getting hit my Lilyanne''s butt.


    "You are the most beautiful boy in all Ventrella lands now."


    "That''s not a benefit!!!"


    "Mirror mirror on the wall, who has the best skin of them all? Is it some foreign princess, perhaps a wealthy lady or mythical forest nymph? No, no it''s you, Georgie. You and the daily application of toner and essential skincare!"


    "Do you know how much your facials hurt!?"


    "That''s because you left the mud mask on for too long. Around 20 minutes is enough"


    "You put it on me...while I was sleeping!!!!"


    "Yes 7 hours was too far long but in return, it had very good results!"


    Ah yes, the day Georgie had a semi-permanent mud mask stuck to his face. Hot water did nothing at that point. Even Amar couldn''t pull or knife it off, at least not without Georgie screaming bloody murder with each chip and crack. Ah, but the exfoliation effects were splendid, so smooth.


    Rather than appreciate all the work I put into him, Georgie is still screaming. Understandably he is only a stressed-out teenager going through a very hormonal time in his life. He''s becoming a legal adult soon too, how exciting. Sweet 16~


    "It took me 3 days to get it all off!!!!"


    "Many many silvers and gold coins went into your skin, Georgie. Most woman would sell their souls to be in your place."


    "Then collect their souls and torture them! Your skin crafts is what''s getting us all this work in the first place!"


    "How about I just raise your pay after your adulthood ceremony?"


    "That was going to happen anyway!!!" he screeches.


    Oh teenagers, so moody and know it all. It really can''t be helped, they''re just so sensitive at this age. From the floor, Abbey weakly wobbles herself back up.


    "Err are we still talking about household expenditures?"


    "Actually yes, so Georgie, back to the nutmeg problem."


    There''s another incomprehensible scream from Georgie. RIP me, if I''m going down marketing math hell I''m taking victims with me.


    A dark shadow looms by the doorway.


    "Pardon Young Miss Rosalia. I do believe it is time for a snack break if the sounds of moaning and wailing are anything to go by."


    Abbey and Georgie may be screaming and straightening themselves up like misbehaving students caught by the teacher but I am for one glad to see Alfonso. Yes wonderful idea! I do deserve a treat.


    While he does bring a plate of stuffed and plain honey buns and a large piping pot of tea for the teens, my usual drink is not to be seen.


    There is only one fireplace in the converted soap storage, and it''s in this very room. Alfonso seems to smoothly glide over, increasing the heat with a few scoops of quality charcoal and putting on a pot of milk.


    "Today, I do believe that Miss Rosalia would appreciate a freshly made drink. Don''t you agree young George?"


    "Um well, uh anything for our Rosalia. I guess?" tries George, careful not to give any wrong answers in front of Alfonso.


    Really say what you will about grampa or my Father being the Lords of the house but isn''t the one with all the real power over our staff our trusty head butler? I wonder where father found him?


    "After all this hard diligent work, cranking those numbers and accounts. Yes a fresh hot milk and honey to invigorate those tired eyes, perhaps with one of those new spice mixes to...help." casually states Alfonso.


    I fear this is some secret training code because George livens up immediately, a sudden sense of comprehension dawning on him.


    "Oh yes, you''re quite right sir! The new ''teas'', how fitting."


    "Do adjust the vents young George, the draft isn''t quite right in here."


    "Of course sir, shall I fan?"


    "In a bit, we wouldn''t want the room inside to be overwhelmed."


    "Oh not the room sir, yes all the smoke and scents shall be blown out properly."


    They''re dressed like a fine butler and normal servant boy but somehow the scene looks like an old wizard and his apprentice brewing a pot of trouble. I can''t complain though, not when they''re preparing a nice snack and warm drink.


    I really am hungry and tired from all this tedious homework, especially math.


    Ah I really miss calculators, who has time to compute 44half coppers per staff member in cloth allocation funds? It''s doable but all so annoying. All I can do is mentally take the situations in the account problems onto actual math equations and do them the old fashioned way by slate before having Abbey or George copy them down by pen. It really does feel like elementary school again with this chalk.


    Wait do people here know how to use the multiplication table? Do they have algebra? Calculus? Geometry?! How do people measure things for building and construction? I honestly can''t say...maybe it''s just not widespread? Oh no. No no no not another project, not on math! I''ll just ask father or grampa if they know any mathematicians, surely there''s someone in the troops right?


    No I don''t wanna do more math, even if it is useful!


    "Eep, is it blowing high enough? Anything I can do to be of help?"


    "Abigail, get to fanning, I don''t think the smell is strong enough."


    "Right away George!"


    "You''re all quite right, not strong enough."


    Huh? I think the room smells great. Like a trendy cafe, all warm and sweet. The tea is definitely one of the blends that George brought back but the milk is being mixed with all sorts of nice things to make it smell divine. I''m so glad my chai tea is a thing in this world. Chai is delicious!


    But if Alfonso says it''s not enough then it''s not enough. He nods approvingly as George throws in whole sticks of cinnamon and a generous sprinkle of ground nutmeg.


    Oh well, that''s luxurious, but tis the season. That stuff is pricier than gold sometimes you know?


    My tummy rumbles and my brain is sore. I feel like the spiced milk is more than sufficiently flavored at this point but my three employees are still all working around the bubbling mix at the fireplace. Really, I''m sure it will taste great. Just scoop me some and pour in that honey. I''m getting impatient with the yummy smell.


    Wait, smell?


    There''s a polite knocking at the little window, boarded closed to keep away the now winter chill. Instead of reacting like normal people, George and Abbey are at it like cats to a mouse. Alfonso doesn''t even blink, but he does finally serve me my milk.


    "I smelled cinnamon chai?!" panted the dirty little field mouse, cheeks red from the cold and obvious exercise, like he quickly ran here. Which given the dead foliage in his hair and improper outdoor attire, I''d say he just did.


    Yes yes yes I''m sure half the road down can smell cinnamon chai at this point. Really now, have you all no shame? I tell you to stop kidnapping the kid so now you lure then trap him?!


    For some odd reason, Georgie and Abbey have not only pulled in a wild 5-year old through the window but they''re boarding it back up? And the door? This is all very shady looking, just saying. But there are no cops or child protective services to call here.


    "Your milk and snack Miss Rosalia." reminds Alfonso, right before my belly growls again.


    No shame, I''m a healthy growing child. Oh that is good honey spiced milk though. Very much approved, great job on the pepper grinder father.


    Wait, why am I getting distracted so easily? Why is everyone creepily kidnapping Amar again? Has anyone ever taught this kid not to follow strangers with sweets?


    "Why are we kidnapping him again?"


    "Oh hi Rosalia. Oh is that what this is?" Amar innocently blinks towards the teens now holding him hostage.


    "Uh kinda, yeah."


    "Oh. Do kidnappees get chai?"


    "That''s not the point!"


    The answer is yes apparently because by the force of magic, or Alfonso, there is already another cup of child-friendly spiced milk ready to be served, cinnamon stirring stick and all. Hey wait, how come I don''t get one of those?


    Georgie sets the kid down only after lightly scrubbing soap on his little hands and face, clean and fit for the table.


    "So Rosalia, here''s the deal. I''m tired of this, you''re tired of math"


    "Yes so, what''s your point?"


    "Watch this- Amar what''s 44small coppers per person for a group of 221?"


    The kid tilts his head in confusion. I''m about to attack Georgie right in the solar plexus before Afonso slides by, setting down another plate of sandwiches and an old fashioned abacus.


    "Ohhhh ok so that''s...9724 small coppers. Or 97Cs and 24cs. Or 9s 7Cs and 24cs." clicks the kid with surprising speed, before reaching over for a sandwich.


    I pull the rest of the plate away to his dismay.


    "Georgie...what kinds of prank is this?"


    Like an arrogant young master, Georgie shakes his head at me condescendingly, stuffing a honey bun into Amar''s waiting mouth.


    "No tricks here. I thought it was suspicious for the troops to be locking a small kid in the storage warehouses so much but it turns out he actually does do the counting and logs."


    "Just some of it now. They used to lock me in for real. These are really soft and yummy as always, honey buns here are the best." munches Amar.


    Well, that''s....concerning?


    George smirks and I look suspiciously about the room. Abbey shakes like a leaf, but that''s nothing new. Meanwhile, Alfonso silently drops a newly organized pile of my ''homework'' down onto the table before sliding another steaming plate in front of the boy?


    What is it now? Stew? Where did that come from?! If I take that away is Alfonso gonna keep pulling out a buffet from his sleeves?!


    "Your house is really funny Rosalia. Sometimes they ask me all sorts of funny questions and when I answer right, they feed me? Sometimes I don''t answer anything and they try to feed me anyway? I think those are called your taste tests? But some of the things smell so bad I don''t even need to taste to know it''s not yummy. They like me smelling things for them too? Oh I like the white beans in this one, did they fry it with oil first?" slurps the kid, obediently eating his soup like he doesn''t get held hostage by entire kitchens.


    Hey how often does this happen? He sounds too used to it at this point.


    I almost can''t believe it, but in this messed up world anything is possible. It''s just that there''a lot of things going on here, a lot of facepalm over. But if you can''t beat them, then there''s little left to do but join them.


    "....Amar....what''s 785-333?"


    " 452?"


    " 55 x 23?"


    "1265?"


    "439 x 781?"


    "Um...342,859?"


    "What''s the square root of pi?!"


    "I don''t know, what pie uses square roots? There are roots that grow square? And can you tell your cook Maddy to stop making pigeon pies? They don''t look or taste very good and I think she''s using nutmeg wrong?"


    He sticks out his tongue in the memory and I do vaguely recall a creepy bird feet pie that I ran away from tasting. Oh, thank god, if he could answer that it would break my already very loose limits. I would be forced to immediately go knocking grampa for answers because really, what are the mathematic standards in this world?!


    "If I sell a bar of soap for 25Cs and the population is about 8000people, and I expect to sell two bars to 35% percent of the population how much money do I make?"


    "Um....." it takes him another bite of soup and less than half a minute of counting on his fingers "2800 people at 50Cs is 140000Cs or 1400s? 14S? "


    "I told you, I told you!" laughs Georgie unflatteringly, what a waste of such beautiful skin.


    Okay then...really good basic calculator here. Scarily good child calculator. I know for sure this isn''t normal? Even for a lot of adults.


    I slide over the plate of sandwiches with my latest math homework. I have already come to accept that sense just does not apply in the world, especially anyone in my grampa''s camp. That''s just the way life goes.


    Good little human calculator, do this part for me won''t you?


    Another loud not so polite knocking comes from the boarded window followed by Luka''s megaphone voice, knocking my poor maid to the floor again out of fear alone.


    "Amar you run too fast! I smell stuff and I know you two are eating good stuff without me!!!"


    Riveting deduction Lukas. I sigh and look over at the half tea party half homework table. George looking awful with his gloating, Abbey is still shaking on the floor and Alfonso already decorating a plate of....meat pie? You know what, never mind. This entire household is crazy in its own way, even the staff.


    Might as well let another crazy in. He''s not getting any chai though.


    "That''s fine, you can trick him with milk and pepper?"


    "Wait wait wait you seriously did that to him before?"


    "Yeah, as long as it''s sweetened enough, Lukas can''t tell. I think we can get away with adding other things? It was funny."


    "....Do we still have some bean soup or did you eat it all already? Alfonso do we have pepper?"


    "Are you guys going to let me in or do I have to break the door?! I''ll really do it! Leave me some food too!" cries the childish voice outside.


    This is how I spent my remaining time in my terrible twos. Surrounded by homework, mysteriously appearing snacks, and a lot of crazies of all ages. This is just my life now as the young miss of the Ventrellas.


    I don''t even want to think about what''s coming up when I turn three! Then it will soon be time to visit the stupid prince again. Boooooo.


    -----

 81 Walking out with your pas

    A woman stands over a tomb.


    Her steps staggered as if she could barely keep herself upright, let alone keep moving as she did. Still, she approaches the marble and frost covered coffin, still splendid after all these years.


    Unlike herself.


    Time does not favor the living.


    Her beauty had aged and faded, drier than the withered crops that did not survive the latest bout of yearly famine. With her trembling weak frame and washed out features, she was better suited among the dead than with the living. Her hair, once a flowing curtain of rich spun honey, hung limply, loosely, over her thin frame. Her skin pale to the point of translucency resembled that of a corpse.


    But it was her eyes that were truly lifeless.


    No amount of extravagant dresses or sparkling jewels, the empty memoirs of a better time, could hide this fact.


    But she still held this sense of honor, of poise. Even if the wind looks liked it would blow and crumble her, it did not. There was a bold sense of dignity not in what she wore but who she is, must have been, down to her core. After so many years she can finally see herself for who she is.


    She is like a character in a fairy tale told long ago. A starring role in an epic, only for the fact that her story was still ongoing. A survivor of a never ending tragedy that reached its climax long ago.


    She was not truly elderly despite the wrinkles to her eyes, her hands. Time has not been kind to her. This life has not been kind, not for a very long time now.


    Despite what the people say she is no fool, not really.


    How could she be? With all that she''s been through, all that she''s seen. No, it was simply easier to play the fool, easier to bide her time and survive.


    What? She asks herself.... what is there to survive for now?


    Her beloved darling has been slain, turned over and betrayed by his own men. Not the final blade but they might as well have polished the ax and opened the doors with a bow.


    Darling.....oh her darling! His decapitated head was mounted above the walls of what should have been home, the safest place for them to be. But it never did feel like home, not to her. Not in the way that warm white stones and the sea did.


    Her children were either dead or worse. Sold in the game of politics.


    The precious firstborn was brave and bold, accomplished in everything a man should be. But nothing but food for the vultures on the battlefield. There was not even enough of a body to bury. Her son, oh by the goddess her beloved son!


    Her second, a gentle daughter with her blood running through her delicate veins, sentenced to a fate far worse than death for women. How she must resent this useless mother, this cruel fate for how she must survive. If she is still alive. If.


    Her youngest, her sweet, killed defending his father, though he was far too young and weak to do so. His mangled corpse decorated and paraded like a wretched roast game to the mad masses.


    Her babies! Oh but she doesn''t know, not really! She does not know anymore what has become of them. What is true or but hatred fueled rumors? She knows but she never saw, her eyes forever shielded, protected, and forever blind.


    What she does know is that there is no saving them, not anymore. There is no atonement for herself.


    One by one all her precious people left.


    Dead. Dead and gone.


    It doesn''t matter, they''re gone. Gone and she is the only (not) fool who survived. The worst pain goes to not to those who have passed but to the ones left, the ones who remain. And she has been buried alive in her grief for so long for she is the only one left.


    She wants to die, wants to join them. It is now she understands why others take to the bottle, to the blade and to beg for death to take them away.


    It hurts too much to be the one left behind.


    But she can''t, they wouldn''t let her.


    She had to be kept alive. Had to be kept protected, whether as a mercy, as a figure. SO many had begged, had died so that she could live. But no one had asked if she wanted to, if she wanted any of this.


    As if she were a toy. A gilded jewel rather than the flesh and beating heart of a human. Wasn''t that how it was always? Always, since the beginning, and like a lifeless jewel she was dumb and blind to it. Jewels did not think, did not see nor cry.


    And cry she did, sobbed and poured like a bawling child.


    For she was flesh and blood, not ice or stone. Her dear friends, her important people, picked off one by one like game pray. Her beloved family slain and ripped from her grasps. Everyone just slipped away, right through her fingers.


    When did it stop being an accident, a sad circumstance of fate?


    Was it when she became an adult? When? Her corination? Or did it go back, back to when the church claimed her? It must have, though she didn''t know it. When, how, could she have known?!


    Back when-....well, what does it matter now?


    The ones she had trusted with her life, the ones her late parents entrusted to care for her, did not simply betray her. Rather they never were on her side from the beginning, and she is the (not) fool who lived tied by their strings.


    No more, no more living.


    Her blessing, her magic was meant to heal, meant to foresee. It was meant to be a shining light for the future, the burning light to follow to the shore when one was lost at sea. That''s what she always thought because how could it be for anything else?


    She has not had a dream, a vision in so very long now.


    Isn''t it obvious? Isn''t a sign that her greatest wish will come to be? For there to be no more of a future to see.


    The church, the light in this world, to whom she is their supposed savior is now bathed in their own blood. Choked on their own deceit, they lay buried in ruins of their own making. Her powers were meant to heal, and only heal. Never before had she destroyed. Never did anyone, even her, think it was possible.


    To think, her greatest enemies has been right beside her the whole time. Her entire life.


    And she is done.


    Who said revenge would taste sweet? It doesn''t. It doesn''t taste of anything at all.


    After the burning rage, the drainage of every last drop of blood, everything felt cold. Every scream, every tear, and the utterly despicable begging, after all that there is nothing but cold. Bitter bitter cold.


    She always hated the cold.


    She is done, she has killed the branches and the very root. She the kindest one, the softest one, has brutally committed the greatest sin with her own two hands. Is it really a sin though? Did not her forefathers reach glory upon the back of death? All those needs to be killed.


    But she cannot save herself, she does not want too. Not if she''s the only one left.


    With a weakly glowing light in her palm she leans, almost falls against the exquisitely carved tomb.


    Someone''s been here before, for they left behind flowers she doesn''t recognize. But there were many things, wonderful and damned, that her blind eyes had never seen before. Never will. Such little luxuries, flowers in war? A luxury in time she long could not have afforded.


    The sight of such simple little beauty in this unexpected place draws a weak whimper, another sob. It makes her weak in the knees. She rips off the thick, still new drapery, underneath. Rich red she notes, how fitting.


    The top of the tomb is frozen to the touch, even covered, but how could this compare to the cold pain, the numbness that was inside her heart?


    A withered hand wipes at the now exposed glass, rubbing and crackling the ice off to clear it. The glass top to a coffin.


    Breathtaking.


    Not the finely carved marble base nor the delicately engraved details that decorate the tomb. Though no expense was spared in its design nor construction that''s not the most beautiful part. She did not come for the stone artwork.


    No, it was the sleeping beauty inside.


    Ethereal, the young maiden inside must be divine. She was as beautiful as a masterfully crafted doll, eyes painted eternally closed.


    The doll''s flush full features and perfectly flowing hair were that of a fairytale she once so loved. The flow of her soft curls, faded like an aged wine, pinned in all the right places. Delicate heart face, button nose, full lips somehow still flushed with color. Such a proud beauty should never belong to any one man, and it never did.


    Her dress, her burial shroud was an otherworldly white that softly draped her in the manner of a goddess. With rosy cheeks and butterfly eyelashes so full and fine, as if they would flutter open at any moment, she must just be asleep.


    That''s what she was doing yes, merely sleeping.


    Frozen in a very long, very peaceful sleep for all these years. How could such a lively beauty be a corpse, let alone a corpse for decades upon decades? Pale yes, skin almost translucent, but far too lovely to be one of the dead. Of course she was merely sleeping, she always loved sleeping.


    The glass shatters.


    The (not) foolish (not) old woman falls in with a relieved cry.


    The glass had exploded, its bits and pieces had the living woman bleeding in various places. How funny that she still had so much warm blood when she always felt so cold? Now and then, it was always just so cold here.


    "You were right, you were always right."


    But the sleeping beauty does not respond, for she must be sleeping so deeply.


    There''s no scoff, no scolding, no roll of the eyes or sleepily mumbled ''I told you so''. No tugging of blankets or grumpy grunts that still tucked her in like when they were children.


    But that''s okay, she must know. She always did.


    In the cold, bleeding out and dying, the woman embraces the sleeping beauty tight, not unlike a scared child to a beloved doll. To a beloved one.


    In her arms, she finally feels at peace. The seeping blood made roses, redder than any other, bloom all over the crystal white shroud.


    In the same way they did as children, the woman holds on wearily, her eyes fluttering as her heartbeat finally slows. It''s fine, she would always crawl into her bed back then and would be met with nothing but a few mumbled complaints and a lazy snuggle. This was safe, her arms were always safe.


    This felt like home, even if it was terribly unnaturally cold. Her sister''s bed was never cold, she hated the cold even worse than she did.


    "Good night Rosa, I''ll see you in the morning.....I love you."


    But Rosalia doesn''t respond, she''s sleeping too deeply.


    That''s okay though because Lilyanne can finally fall asleep now, and she does. After all these long dreamless years, she closes her eyes and lets sleep tuck her in. Despite her last words, there is no chance for a morning.


    Good night, once and for all.


    ------


    ---


    -


    Crying.


    I wake up to a childish screaming, crying. The wail and tantrum of a toddler with a nightmare. In a flash, there is a rush of the usual night duty maids bursting into the nursery, where my sister and I spend our nights.


    They scramble to the little bed in the center of the room, where the source of all the awful noise is.


    It''s a very obvious scene to identify the culprit I''m sure.


    In the middle of the pillow fluffed bed should be two small figures. One curled up in blankets, right and cushioned. The other wailing and crying with all the subtlety that an upset toddler wouldn''t even bother with. It somehow takes all three of them, fussing and half arguing, to remove the sobbing infant. By then the poor little thing is red and sticky with her own tears and fluids.


    If they were reasonable smart maids, they would find it unnatural for another child to still be sleeping through that. They should find my stillness wrong and check up on me.


    But I am right, as always, in my previous judgment. My assigned bedroom maids A, B and C are not very bright girls nor do I care enough to do anything about it.


    The dense ones are easier to trick and escape from. Also more fun to prank, I never feel any guilt from messing with them.


    The foolish young women bump around that in no way would not have woken anyone in the room up, child or adult. What useless maids. What was with it and lower noble houses sending their daughters to be maids as a formal sort of training? How troublesome, it would be far more effective to hire actually qualified people.


    Seeing that they can do nothing to calm down the bawling toddler, they finally decide to wrap her up and take her out of the nursery. Most likely to the personal quarters of a more experienced and qualified caretaker, most likely Ms. Gerda. The crying seems to get even worse though, from the echoes I can still hear when the maids finally scramble their way out.


    Half the mansion will be awake soon from the sound alone. Lilyanne is just as loud as I am after all.


    Then I am left alone again, as it should be. Alone with my own thoughts.


    That....was quite the dream. Or was it scary enough to be called a nightmare?


    I can''t say. I don''t feel much of anything. Eh, I as always a weird child, now more than ever with the reincarnation thing. Or is it transmigration? I don''t know? What does grampa call it?


    A bit of confusion yes but that''s more from the overwhelming amount of information to be inferred than that of any true fear. It''s a lot to digest. If I was piecing together a story isn''t this a shitload of spoilers?


    A kingdom gone to ruins. That blasted institution obliterated and destroyed in its own blood. Continous famine, poverty, suffering to the point of such a violent and desolate rebellion. It tastes like the kind of tragedy told only in old tales.


    I''m always trying to work towards avoiding the red flags of this life because I''m scared of dying. Yet this odd dream, where my very dead body is featured, doesn''t scare me at all.


    I assume it''s me, that doll named Rosa, stuffed in the ice box.


    I assume it''s Lilyanne, grown up and old, visiting my grave. How nice, I get such a pretty coffin. Not at all creeped out how my dream corpse stayed fresh and lovely all those supposed years it took for Lilyanne to grow that old. It''s just a dream.


    Not!


    My blessed twin sister has always had a plethora of wonderful abilities that appeared over time as we grew up. One of them being the unheard-of ability to foresee pieces and parts of the future. That''s how she could warn of a plague that ravaged the lands when we were 9. Or how she knew to contact and ''save'' certain members of her future fanboy harem. The problem was that she could never control her visions. When they would happen, what she would see, who they involved. They didn''t disrupt much of her life, being rare but they still made her all the more valuable.


    Lilyanne is growing at a much better rate than she used to be, a lifetime ago. She''s a healthy and average toddler with the occasional sick spell. No different than any other little girl her age. This must have been one of them, her visions. She''s so young now but even then she doesn''t recall when these visions started. It could very well have started now or in a few years. At this age it''s not like she can recall any of it.


    So it''s another one of her visions, no big deal. She''ll get used to them...right? I''m not scared but I should be. I know I should be scared, worried, something along the lines. This is quite the sob story about to happen. A lot of innocent blood spilled in between I''m sure. But hey what do I care, I was long gone by then.


    I am surprised though.


    Not the whole running a kingdom to ruin thing. Yes that''s awful and all but I am really not surprised. My Lilyanne is an angel but as a practical ruler, I can''t even imagine it. Even worse, I can''t even imagine her husband. As the head of a kingdom...she definitely married the stupid prince. A stupid prince who may or may not have lost his head if this dream is to believed. How nice.


    Sorry Lilyanne, just calling it like it is.


    I am also a little mad because I clearly told that stupid rock prince to protect her. But hey that''s a lot to ask of anyone. Can''t say I''m surprised. They lived a long enough life right? Got busy and all. A lot longer than me at least.


    Nor am I surprised about the church''s involvement. Rosalia was always wary, suspicious of them, not just because of how they ruined her reputation. She just never had good enough evidence to do anything about them.


    I''m surprised because: why did I see it too?


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    That dream, I''m sure she woke up screaming because of the dream. The only problem was that I saw it too. It played out like a short movie, fully immersive and with great graphics. I wasn''t involved of course but I saw it all. That''s...never happened before? Why? Is it because she''s growing stronger? Is it because of the close contact?


    We sleep together every night when in the last lifetime she could only sneak into my bed when she was scared and old enough to do so. Never before have I seen such a vision. How interesting, so that''s how it goes.


    I should be scared but more than anything I just feel an odd mixture of tired and excited. Tired because this little life of mine is already complicated enough. The visions mean trouble, a lot more trouble. Yet I''m excited because what helpful spoilers these are!


    I wasn''t here for the full show called life you know. I died at 17 then.


    My my my Lilyanne were your visions all this useful? It''s like a dangerous cheat sheet! I would think not if she never utilized them fully, though I suppose if they were more this level she would be a lot more traumatized. If she had ever recalled any visions of death and tragedy, certainly she would break out crying like her current baby self is doing now. Surely she would go crying to grampa with these scandalous clues, and I certainly would have heard her wails for days on end. I heard more than enough to know all of my little sister''s fears and worries.


    My sister isn''t the malicious or cunning type, nor is she a very good liar. That''s my job. There''s no way she could hide this.


    But now my cute Lilyanne has shown me such an interesting sight. I wonder if she''ll remember this particular dream as she grows up. Maybe she saw it last time too but brushed it off as a childish nightmare. After all who remembers their bad dreams from when they were 2? 3?


    Ah yes, there was one regular time of year she would have a vision, no matter the contents.


    That moment between midnight and dawn of the new year, like clockwork.


    Happy Birthday to us.


    I am now officially three years old.


    What to do now? Shall I write it all down? I don''t have any paper nor parchment in this nursery though. Slate? Then go straight to grampa, wherever he is? Gable? That would be the smart thing to do yes.


    But it''s cold out and I''m still very much tired from my disturbed sleep. I''m a toddler! This is a problem for the morning. Good luck future Rosalia, back to bed I go.


    -----

 82 I think its haunted...

    Attention! Attention! I''d like to call to order for the next official meeting of the Reincarnator''s club. There are important updates to discuss aka save my little butt. But in order to do that, I have to find the club''s only other members.


    Grampa.


    Now, where could he be?


    He did not stay in the mansion last night. That''s nothing too new. This is honestly more of my parent''s house than anything. Does grampa even have a permanent residence?No the troop''s garrison grounds do not count.


    Not that he needs to or anything. He''s always around somewhere. Either that or chasing Gable around not so secretly. Talk about annoying, wonder how Gable puts up with it all these years?


    I really need a mirror phone or something.


    Right now I still don''t see grampa, but it''s a little difficult to find him in the mess that is my birthday


    The ''party'' is quite easy being that it was another cozy affair primarily for the adults to socialize *cough* network *cough*. As a child, even the star of the day, all I had to do is look pretty and stay well behaved. There''s not much for me to do or rather should I say there''s not much I am allowed to do.


    Earlier Mother said "behave".


    Father, however, helpfully translated that to mean, "Play dumb".


    That includes no talking back to, seriously responding to, or shocking and terrifying anyone. Essentially do not be myself. If possible do not talk much at all. Keep my mouth shut. All that fun stuff.


    How rude.


    But I see where father''s reasoning is coming from. The standard 3 year old does not walk and talk or generally behave as I do. I would rather not be burned at the stake as a toddler witch. Or causing myself unnecessary trouble just yet.


    I must hang on to my small cute child card for as long as possible. It''s easier to work under the radar that way with no one suspecting me.


    A tad annoying how no one can take me seriously but at this age, I don''t want them to. I''m too defenseless to sit at the big table. I know what the adult world is like best for noblewomen, let alone villainess ones that have to scheme at every turn! Let''s just play cute and dumb while sticking to my parents.


    Not that it''s very hard to play Lilyanne for the evening.


    Isn''t my little sister the model loveable little baby girl? Well there we go. My perfect inspiration in ''playing dumb'', sorry Lilyanne. With our frilly little toddler bonnets on, there''s no way anyone can tell up apart! When she giggles or clapped at something shiny, so did I, with appropriate timing and judgment.


    It''s even easier if I just pretend to dose off like the sleepy infant that I am.


    I really did try to keep awake and do some information spy work but it was all so boring. Nothing interesting ever goes on at a baby''s birthday.


    I''m not allowed to talk to the adults according to father but I really can''t talk to the few kids that were allowed in. I can keep up the act in front of adults but playing babbling toddler to other kiddies is rather demeaning. Ah I always knew I would have trouble interacting with kids. Can''t be helped, I''m just too mentally grown up.


    Clinging to mother and father the whole night is the best way to go to play cool.


    Even though I was acting so well, mother looked shall I say, terrified?


    Once in awhile she would peek under and readjust my bonnet as if it ascertains to herself that it''s my little chicken head down there and not say, two Lilyannes. How rude.


    Of course, she kept up a beautiful smiling face and played the perfect host for all our guests. No one knew none the wiser. Plenty of the usual; ''who is who'' questions. They would try cozying up to my parents than really bother with little old me.


    See mother, I can ''behave'' just fine.


    Overall it was an uneventful evening, despite technically being our birthday. I spent half of it basically making up for lost sleep from the night before. Since I was playing dumb there really was nothing to do and nothing was interesting enough to watch.


    The supposed fashion really is horrible though, for both men and women. I can''t say much about mother, being the on-trend fashionista but thankfully wide butt paneer dresses are not "In'' just yet. Fashion is confusing here and mother does not help.


    That''s still something to work on, despite my previous influences. Thank god Father doesn''t follow all the trends or wear....visably bright multi-colored pantyhose? What even?


    It''s like an old man yoga class in here? Are those high heels?


    Oh well, work it misters.


    Father is a bit...ok a lot, more on the conservative side with his robes and I appreciate that very much.


    Hey hey hey father I know you said to behave for tonight but can we soon talk about tailors? Not just mother''s maid but getting actual in house tailors. We''ll save a lot of money that way against mother''s shopping habits.


    I have lots of ideas that won''t include men''s pantyhose! Or are those pantaloons? No no no they''re just pantyhose really. Either way I need some tailors. It''s very disappointing to keep calling Alfonso ''head butler'' when he doesn''t wear the black and white tailcoat costume!


    I''m not kidding when I say things are rather medieval around here. I want my butler in an actual butler suit! Some snazzy and classy!


    Yes yes, I can see it now, not just Alfonso. Uniforms! Skirts! Buttons! Aprons! Actual hairnets?


    New practical clothes for everyone. Cloth is expensive? Well it''s now part of the Ventrella employee benefits! We''ll work on it. First let''s give our staff, especially the menfolk, some more options with pants and trousers.


    Pockets, pockets for everyone! God why didn''t I think of this earlier?


    In order to not get too agitated in my brainstorming or harm my eyes any further from the fashion disasters, I truly knocked out and slept the night away in my parents'' arms. When I came to again it was already morning!


    This is another strange new occurrence?


    After the first trip to the farmlands, father seems to have no issue with sharing a bed or using me as a heated teddy bear. That''s odd but fine, I don''t take up much space and body heat is warm. Usually though when we''re back home I''m put into the nursery with Lilyanne.


    Not last night apparently.


    Looks like we spent the night in our parents'' bed again. Family co-sleeping? Is that healthy at this age? Lilyanne seems to like it if the way she''s sprawled deep asleep says anything. The sun is up and no maids made any of the usual wake up calls but then again this is mother''s bed. At this time father is already up and out I''m sure. Really such an odd practice mother and father have picked up, using us like the occasional teddy bears.


    But my sister''s and mine''s current sleeping state is not my main concern. Nor is it the tailors to recruit to make staff uniforms.


    I need to find that nutjob grampa!


    Easier said than done. He could be anywhere doing anything! He''s the hero with access to all sorts of strange devices, magical or not.


    I really need one of those mirror phone things.


    Well when things don''t go exactly as you want it, which is how it usually goes, you always have to have some follow up plans. First I should inform Alfonso. That way if when Aflonso''s super butler senses finds grampa then he can tell me. Maybe send a messenger bird.


    Like father, Alfonso also rises early, usually assisting father in his work. I don''t think I have ever seen the old man sleep?


    So the next best place would be...my kitchens! If I can''t find Alfonso then I''ll head to the kitchens and someone will call for him eventually. It should be busy down there right now, that morning rush hour as everyone eats and busy readying up mother''s usual breakfast in bed.


    What a nice life the lady of the house lives.


    Unfortunately for me, I can''t live that lifestyle. My tummy can never wait for my maids to lag and finally feed me by mid-morning. So I always go ahead, it''s not sneaking out, it''s my own house. I''m not a little piggy I''m a busy and growing little girl! Besides I have work to do!


    Ms. Greda calls me hyper, unable to stay still. Untrue, I am very lazy and well behaved when I want to be. Good luck attempting to catch me, everyone, may you all fail pathetically.


    As I wander down the hall from my stop in my nursery room, something...unsettling...catches my eye.


    It''s kitti, just sitting against the wall.


    No not a real cat or catlike creature, those are actually cute. This is the grampa''s attempt at carving a ''toy'' which ended up looking more like a tiny mummified cursed animal corpse. It''s just carved dead wood but that''s the impression it gives me.


    I have since knitted a cover for Lilyanne''s precious ''kitti''. Supposedly Kitti is supposed to be mine, a creepy doll in the set.


    I tried really hard to do my best, making a passably cute cat pattern. I even gave it big black felt eyes and stuffed layers of cotton to soften it. Yet somehow it always unnerves me. Maybe because I know what really lies underneath cotton and cloth. It''s just creepy!


    Did Lilyanne leave it out while she was playing again? That''s very careless of the maids, but hey their discipline isn''t the best.


    Abigail would tidy everything in the soap rooms but she''s not one of my ''bedroom'' maids nor would I send her to the wolves like that. I fear she might panic and scare herself silly. Then no one would clean and keep my precious skincare organized.


    Sighing, I give ''kitti'' a wide berth as I make my way to the kitchens.


    At least my plushie knitting skills are getting better. Maybe I should add plushies and stuffed animals to my future company. Tiny ones to go with skincare packages? Big ones to sell to rich mother and children?


    Cloth is expensive right? What can I do to cut costs down or improve supply? WHAT THE FU-


    I freeze. Ahead of me down the hall is a familiar brown and cream knit, handmade kitten ears and all. But I swear I just walked past.....


    Oooooookay hurrying up now! Lalalala~ My brain is so muddled and filled with all sorts of things, I must have misremembered! Let''s just turn a bit and take the servents shortcuts, it''s faster. Good grief these long halls do things to a silly girl''s imagination.


    Oh wow are my little toddler legs getting faster? I''m glad my workouts are paying off bit by bit.


    I don''t expect to be monster levels but being stronger and faster than the average person would be great. The more the better. Durability too if I have to keep surviving gramps. I''m only three years old and I''ve been through so much already! Most adults don''t live as dangerous a life as I do. Oh whooopeeeee lucky me.


    Let''s see the current to do list in order of priority: Find Alfonso- to find Grampa, gotta talk to grampa. I want to start on making clothing and beehives but both of those will need to wait before we can get the supplies, it''s still winter after all.


    Oh poop, visiting the stupid prince, that will put a damper to the schedule. Another thing to talk to grampa about, improved transportation. Can''t he and Gable just magically poof me over there and back or something?


    More importantly, for the time being, I need to maintain current projects, personal and joint. My soaps and recipes are my personal accounts and need the most work from me. Meanwhile the farms and father''s ''inventions'' still require my input and direction but can be operated by father.


    Wonder how those new water wheels are doing this winter? We''ll see the cover crop results come spring but winter cabbages should be ready now yes? Oh the beans! I forgot about the bean tasti-WHAT THE HOLY F#@!#@$!!!!!


    I have cut through the servants'' halls many times in my limited little life. The darker narrower halls with it''s exposed wood beams do no scare me. The general shape of everything is familiar, uniform, even in the dark.


    The vaguely menacing kitti doll shape on the floor is not!


    What is going on?! That''s not supposed to be there!


    At this point, I''m on the defensive, my usual practice staff already pulled out from my interdimensional bag. Gripping the stick brings me a sense of comfort, as if I could wack the fear in my vein away. I find it difficult to breathe as my neck tingles and my heart beats a mile a minute.


    I can''t- sticks don''t beat ghosts or curses or whatever I''m being faced with! Ahhhhhh wtf!!!!?!? I''m no good with actual ghosts!!!


    Okay...okay breathe Rosa gurl, breathe. What do they do in the horror movies? Whatever the actors do, just do the opposite of that. That''s a sure way to survive.


    I charge, war cry and all.


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


    "AAAH EEp! Mi-mi-miss Ro-ro- Rosalia!"


    "What in the goddess'' name! Rosalia what are you doing!?"


    Georgie''s nagging is music to my ears! Eat him not me!


    But the bright lights from the kitchen windows and fires show me no cursed cat doll in sight. Only my very bewildered staff. Abigail has somehow gotten under the table and is still shaking from the surprise. I understand I must have made quite the scene this morning but there are far more dire things to attend to.


    "Quickly! Grab fire! Holy water! It''s in the hall!" no need to compose myself, this is an emergency!


    As the young Miss of this family, my word is one of the laws of this place. Hurry! Come help me kill the ghost doll!


    "What are you going on with now?" sighed the teenager, trying to pry my staff away.


    "Kitti-it moved- it''s following me!"


    "Kitti?"


    "The creepy doll Lilyanne likes!"


    "....uh huh. Yeah Rosalia, how about we....wash your face? In cold water....very cold water. Let''s wake you up."


    "I''m serious!"


    Luckily our matronly kitchen maid Barbara takes some candles and helping hands to light up the hall. Revealing ...nothing?


    "It was just there! I ran past it screaming."


    "....yeah, we heard."


    "I swear!"


    "Oh there there you sweet thing, George stop teasing our Rosalia! She''s still a child after all." scolds Barbara, lifting my trembling form into her strong milky arms in comfort and protection.


    I''m not being a scared baby! Don''t misunderstand! Something weird is going on!


    Yet no one understands. They all chuckling at me as if I was an amusing little thing, getting scared of the dark. I''m not scared of the dark you fools I''m scared of what''s hiding in it. Obviously the cursed thing got away!


    Oh I really need to find grampa now. What the hell has he unleashed upon our good clean household?


    Of course, I''m not leaving Barbara''s arms anytime soon. That and I''ve seen our lovely kitchen maid easily chop through tree truck-sized bones for soup stock. Good arms, very strong arms, keep me safe from stalking dolls.


    Also please feed me, running and screaming for my little life is hungry work. Is that rice? I smell buttery rice and soups. I need comfort food.


    I know no one believes me but I know what I saw. Haunted mummy dolls don''t attack in groups this big during the day, right? Maybe it''s not necessarily a haunting, magic makes things unpredictable.


    Either way, I need to calm down and give the general search notice for grampa.


    Scary scary things in this world. Soup does not solve all but it does make things better. Beany bean soup, I think the flavor improved? Not bad whatever they''re trying out today.


    I can''t let the scary possibly haunted doll ruin me. I am a big girl now at three years old. That means more mobility to get things done! There''s a lot of work to do at home. Let''s digest by lightly surveying the gardens and the area I''m readying for my research garden. Yes bright fresh sunlight, no creepy dolls in the sun....light.


    AHHHHF3@#$aAFS@!@!$#!!!! My heart!


    Why is it in the dirt!?!! Why is it peeking out from the dirt?!! This kind of scare is really bad for my heart!


    I do my best to smack and wack the thing from afar with a stick but what does that do?! Witnesses! I need witnesses!


    However, by the time I run off and return with a stablehand and the old gardener, there''s nothing there? The mound that I buried the cursed thing in is....empty?


    AAHHHHHHH!!!!! Why me?! What is this shit?!


    Okay, breathe. Breathe Rosalia breathe. There is a creepy maybe magic maybe haunted thing following me around and appearing. The pattern? I am alone when I see it. Okay then, until grampa comes, no more being alone. No more putting myself into that sort of vulnerable situation. I will not be a horror movie victim!


    That''s the thing though.


    It feels like a horror movie and not in the so bad it''s good kind. I don''t mind a lot of things but I''m not good with ghost stories and stuff. All day I can''t shake off the feeling I''m being watched. Anywhere, everywhere, this unsettling fear makes all the hairs on my neck prick up. I''m not just being scared or paranoid.


    Most certainly, I''m being watched, followed.


    There are times, hints, that I see that dirty brown vaguely cat-shaped doll. Getting closer and closer to its true ghastly form. But if I ever turn to get another look, it''s gone.


    I feel like going crazy. I can''t do anything without constantly checking over my shoulder or looking at dark corners. Surely it''s there, watching...waiting.


    But for what?!


    "Eeep um Mi-miss Rosalia? I don''t think there''s any more soap to cut?"


    "Oh is that so Abbey? Huh funny that?"


    Recently with the wire soap bar cutter, my processing has gotten faster and more streamlined. ANyone can use the string cutter, it''s just a wooden case with some evenly spaced strings. Just open, place in the soap brick and slicey slicey. No need for Abbey or anyone to bust out a knife or anything.


    So it certainly catches my eye, this out of place glint. It could be anything but not in my soap room, where I should know every detail.


    A glint, a knife, and... m#@$%rrwggsds!!! kITI!?!!! hOLY SHIT!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!


    "EEEEEEEEK! Mi-miss Ro-ro-ro-sa sa? Wh-what''s wr-wro-wrong?!" cries my little maid, completely innocent to the horror behind her.


    Her fearful shaking is natural, nothing like mine. I don''t dare take my eyes away this time, not lest it gets away again. It never moves as long as my sight stays tracked on it. The cursed little beast has gone too far, somehow brandishing a weapon. Even in the shadows I can make out the exposed rotten wood underneath parts of wear and tear on the cursed doll.


    I should have known, gut feeling more than anything.


    I''m scared-honestly very very ready to flip the table scared. But I can''t let it get Abbey or any of my staff. It''s me this thing wants.


    "Abbey...go get people from the kitchens. Go now- hurry."


    "Bu-but Mi-"


    "There''s no time Abbey, just go! I''ll hold it off!"


    "Hold? Hold what?"


    I pull out my staff once more, preventing Abbey from turning around to her doom. That''s how the horror movies go, one look and she''s as good as dead. Especially with her clumsiness. I can''t let this innocent person get dragged into this very dangerous thing. That''s an odd thing about fear, I can''t do anything for myself but when it comes to another person I need to step up.


    "Just go Abbey- hurry and get help. Go and don''t look back!"


    "Mi-Miss!"


    "I order you to run!"


    That''s the cue, my opening. As soon as Abbey finally makes a break for it out the door, I attack using her as cover.


    Another thing about fear, the lead up is much more anxiously terrifying than the actual moment. When you confront the monster.


    Kitti plays dead as I knock it and the gleaming sharp blade out into the light of the fire. Fire...yes fire.


    Keeping a careful distance I use my signature move that has save me once before. Sweeping. Sweep sweep, push that thing over. At the prime moment, I use up all my courage in one swift burst.


    3. 2. 1. Go!


    With one hit I fling the horror into the fireplace, letting the flames crackle and burn it down. It''s dark shadow in the flames blacken and crumples, dirt torn knit revealing more and more grotesque inner wood and stuffing. The echoes of disturbing demonic laughter ring through the air.


    How horrifying. What has Lilyanne been playing with all this time? What has grampa given to us?


    I fear burning it won''t be enough, even if it''s ash. I can still hear that grating laughter from forces above! It''s still going? Things do get less scary after awhile and this has been going for quite some time as I stare carefully into the fire. Actually, more than fear I feel very irritated by the laughing at this point.


    Very very irritated. Even though it''s muffled, this laugh annoys me as if it''s mocking me.


    I feed the fire, ensuring it burns even hotter and the light flickers off the knife on the floor. Feeling a lot calmer since feeding the ugly doll to the flames, I can actually take the time to process things better.


    What a lovely knife, as terrifying as it was a moment ago. The entire thing is not so large, it had to be carried by a child''s cursed toy after all. The handle glowed with an ivory base and amber looking parts. The blade, while small, was sharply curved in a way that made it very ideal in stabbing vials. The swirls in the metal made it almost pretty.


    That''s not one of my kitchen knives. That''s not one of my household knives at all.


    The laughter still buzzes in my ear, like a mosquito, and I feel a great call to violent action.


    Knife? A doll that moves faster than I can see and it comes with a knife?! Flipadee doo da knife?!!!!


    I''m going to kill those brats!!!!!


    I can still hear Lukas loud and clear all right! Get out here so I can murder you all!!! You can''t escape, I know you''re hiding in my rafters! Amar may be able to hide for the time but I can hear Lukas just fine! Out!


    What a nice knife, the handle fits in my hands just right. I''ll use this then. Now come out you twerps! You don''t know the kind of torture you put me through, wasting my day like that. Was I funny? Was scaring me funny? I''ll show you scary!!!!


    -------------------


    --------------


    *Mini bonus:


    --------------


    -------------------


    "Now Rosalia, what did you do wrong in this situation?" grunts grampa, standing tall above me.


    I am currently on my knees receiving discipline and a scolding. Turns out grampa got my message after all. I am just cursed with bad timing.


    Grampa burst to the rescue, except it wasn''t me that needed the rescuing. How lucky for him, Lukas lives another day. Amar, however, was nowhere to be seen let alone caught. That in itself is enough evidence to blame him if the knife and Lukas'' screaming confession wasn''t.


    From this moment on I give my staff full permission to kidnap him as they please, with whatever dirty means. I have a score to settle. Lukas, I at least managed to give chase and maul, blowing off some steam. Amar got off scot-free. For now.


    Also note to self- never use Lukas as an accomplice in crime. He will tattle on you without any shame or need for interrogation.


    "Rosalia. This is serious. I am talking to you." states grampa, sounding stern.


    ".....yes grampa."


    "What. Did. You. Do. Wrong?"


    "I shouldn''t go around threatening people with a knife." I answer dully.


    Really people should not do that or even play with dangerous things like knives. That''s bad. However, I''m a little excused given my circumstances right? These aren''t sweet innocent kids I''m up against, they''re horrible little monster brats. I was mentally on edge all day! They started it!


    Yet my answer does not please grampa, his expression still dark.


    "No Rosa, try again."


    "I should not....threaten people?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Nooooooooooo. That''s not it. Far from it!"


    "I should not...play with knives or other sharp dangerous things?"


    "Nooooooooooooooooooo."


    Is this a trick question? I already gave out all the appropriate answers. It''s very hard to tell with grampa, he''s unpredictable. Honestly, he''s also at fault for giving us such scary looking dolls in the first place.


    "I should have not destroyed your ....present?"


    "No, well yea that too- I spent a long time on it! But no, it''s clear to me you do no know your wrong doing!"


    No duh. I have no idea what is the correct answer in the end and my legs are going numb from kneeling. Please release me so we can get to the actual serious business. If possible, also let me go stalking some brats and let me take my revenge.


    But it looks serious, I''m in trouble with grampa of all people. Woe is me. This start to my year as a three-year-old is not going well. First, some prophetic dreams featuring me dead. Then boring parties where I have to play dead. Then Kitti!


    Truly, woe is me.


    "Rosalia! Are you listening!"


    "....Yes sir."


    "You young lady....were holding the knife in a completely wrong manner!!! That was a terrible stance for stabbing and at that angle? If it were a real enemy they would have easily escaped!" admonishes grampa, perfectly serious.


    What?


    "And if you just wanted information then you would be better slicing the enemy! Make them bleed but dance around their vitals! Keep it visible to increase their fear! Do you understand!"


    "Yes grampa. Threaten by slicing."


    "Right! Now we will work on your basic stabbing! Now come at me!"


    My grampa is an insane and horrifying man. With a still very serious expression, he gets into an open bear stance, as if ready for a hug. Except his mouth is telling me to charge at him with a sharp object.


    "Don''t just stand there! You''re lagging! Come full force and, don''t grip too tight! It will slip. Wrong angle! Stab with more strength! Again! Do you want to mortally wound or give cute little love scatches! Again! Good passion! Again!"


    This is also a sort of punishment in the fact that I''m being run down to the dirt in an impromptu charging and stabbing practice.


    At least it''s somewhat good training?


    I have some new targets, even if they indirectly got rid of Kitti for me. Thank you for the birthday present boys. Come out of hiding soon so I can show you all how well I''m using it!

 83 A lot of stuff goes into making soup.

    "So many....soups..."


    "Ow ow ow this is boring! Ow ow ow!!! Arms!"


    "Keep stirring," I continue to threaten at the boys.


    Remember everyone, child labor is really bad. Don''t repeat this at home to innocent little children.


    "I am innocent!!!" screams Lukas, red in the face from all the steam.


    Being the size of kindergarteners, the boys have to be creative to be tall enough to reach all the soup pots. I myself, being tiny, am included in this not at all dangerous cooking.


    It''s not at all a safety hazard as Amar barefoots across the counter to handle 8 different simmering pots alone. One pot is too easy, keep stirring everyone!


    Revenge smells like soup.


    It''s another busy winter day for me indoors, even at the troop''s campgrounds. There''s nothing quite like a steaming bowl of soup on a cold day. I''m sure it will be very much appreciated tonight in the cafeteria for dinner.


    I have come up with the idea for a test kitchen! It''s also built closer to a modern kitchen than these fireplace handles and grills. Such fire hazards with everyone''s floppy clothes and bare hands.


    Today''s tester is soup! I may have admonished father on his bean craze a while back but it''s actually a good idea given how easy they are to grow and keep in storage. Just don''t tell father that. He doesn''t have to know.


    Soup is a very common dish for all social classes. It will grace every table in times of hardships and prosperity. In the summer and fall soup is green and colorful. In the winter it tends to be very brown and sad. It can''t be helped since that''s just what''s available- beans and lentils.


    We need to get some better food preservation going on here. Pickles maybe? Canning?


    I''m still concerned about famines affecting the land. Even without famines to come, winter is a harsh thing to survive in these times.


    I have so many things to test out in both famine research and just overall food improvement. I''d feel bad being in the way of either one of the kitchens all the time.


    They''ve both very busy places, being the heart, soul, and stomach of each residence. It was much faster converting an unused outdoor kitchen into my test building at the troop''s camp than it was to construct something in my manor home. Afterall there''s a lot of hidden corners and probably magical space in here.


    In order to improve the transportation time to and fro my home and the troops, there is now a ''wagon'' shuttle schedule. Things are still being worked out with the new shuttle system but at least three times a day, a wagon departs from both locations transporting goods and people.


    While I initially created it for me and my chefs, it seems like the hired tutors on both sides and father''s accountants like the shuttle too.


    Yay for improved relations and work efficiency! With all these people going back and forth on wheels, I am pleased to say more research is going into better paving roads and improving our shuttle.


    Dirt is messy and cobblestone is too bumpy. I don''t like them, my motion sickness does not like them. Grampa figure out the roads! Make me something asphalt-like or at least smoother to drive on. Father, you handle the wheels and wagons!


    Good deal?


    What?


    I''m not smart enough to know the chemical composition and substitutes to make pavement. Or what road structure works best for the terrain with our current technology. That''s grampa department.


    I''m not some OP character that knows everything, sheesh. I don''t even have proper magic! The most I can do is pipe on in about, I don''t know, the curves and gutters to account for rain and snow. You know, the boring common sense stuff.


    Do we have lime deposits? Can someone figure out concrete? Oh lime works for keeping eggs and stuff too! But so does salt, we have salt yes. Hmmm. I know we have a lot of mineral-rich clay, which is great for my beauty products.


    Maybe I should post a reward on the bulletin board if anyone in the troops can bring forth a good enough idea? Huh....a patron reward system, like some science fair prize. Hmmmmm.


    Likewise, the same with wagons or carriages. I don''t know how they''re structured or built. There''s a lot of things I want to do or ideas to bring to this world but even if they''re possible despite the tech gap, it''s a lot of hard work to bring things into reality. Planning, drafting, commissioning, building - then there''s figuring out what''s wrong in those first, second, or third drafts, again and again.


    I really lucked out having such a nerd for a father. He actually likes those kinds of things.


    Though he did quip once about increasing the budget for parchment and paper costs.


    Hey what is the paper market like? Papermills exist in certain places I recall but why are we still using parchment?


    "There''s a lot more animal skins around? You have lots of sheep and goat herds and not all of it is good for making leather. Paper is expensive here?"


    "Gable uses both! He yells at me a lot to not waste parchment bc those are more magicy and stuff, like for his circle spells."


    "Um, I don''t know how paper is made or anything but it''s more expensive around here? It''s only made in certain places, right? Anyone can make parchment if they have skins or pulpy plants. Why don''t they just harvest more paper plants? "


    "Is paper made from plants? We can grow paper?! Gable never told me that! He always yells at me to not waste them!"


    "I don''t think there are plants that grow them but you use some plants to make paper? Same like clothes?"


    The boys go back and forth, like chirping housewives over the stoves. If they have the energy to talk like this then my petty soup revenge is obviously not harsh enough. But the talk is interesting enough to move along my own brainstorming.


    Hemp, flax, and cotton. Those are all common enough plants- and what I''ve gathered in my own clothing research. It''s not just trees, those plants can and have been used in traditional papermaking on earth. It wouldn''t be wrong to guess these as paper ingredients here either. We have water mills now with all of father''s building projects, why can''t we just make our own?


    "Paper grows on trees too?!"


    "It''s just tree bark? Or it''s made from it? I saw really white tree bark paper before, it was shiny and smoother than a deer hide."


    "Whoa! How though? Trees are like brown and green and yellow and stuff!"


    "I don''t know? It gets clean when they boil it? Filters? Sugar and juice need filters so why not? I''m not sure? Rosalia do you know since you want your family to make papermills now too? I think the bulletin board reward thing will work too? They really need money after gambling too much."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Stop reading my thoughts you two!" I screech, breaking up the boys, finally losing in with this conversation.


    It''s just creepy! I know I know I will fix this stupid thinking out loud habit of mine eventually! It''s just hard when I don''t even know when I''m doing it. Why does this body have such a weird habit?!


    "We did not! You kept talking and asking things first!" complained Lukas, who looks a hilarious but concerning shade of pink.


    I think he needs some water now. Ice. Go cool down frosty. That''s enough soup sauna for you. Remember child labor is dangerous and bad.


    "Lukas...can you read thoughts? Gable?" questioned Amar, as if the thought suddenly made him scared.


    "What?! No! But that would be so cool!"


    "Wait wait wait can Gable read thoughts? Can anyone? Grampa is oddly.....knowledgeable sometimes. Is that a magic thing?"


    Oh great now I''m scared! Sure Gable and grampa know about my special circumstances but there''s a lot of sensitive info in my head okay. Stuff I know for sure I don''t mutter out loud and should not see the light of day. Information I don''t even know how to organize yet, those are issues for future Rosalia. It''s also a privacy concern!


    "Guys, reading thoughts would be so so really cool but I don''t think Gable can do that. He and Cap'' would catch me a lot more when I do things they tell me not too!"


    "..."


    "Oh. That makes sense too!"


    Yes....yes it does actually. Thank you Lukas for your very blunt words of comfort. That is very true, in how Gable just would not allow even a quarter the shenanigans Lukas manages to get himself into. How did he get stuck inside that tree that one time? I expect there to be a magical equivalent of a GPS tracking camera on the troublesome boy any day now.


    I also should not let unfounded fear and paranoia take me over like a certain other day. Cursed kitti.


    Huh is this how grampa often feels?


    ....Naaaaaahhhh he''s just crazy.


    "There''s a lot of things we don''t know about. Maybe somewhere out there there is someone who can read all thoughts?" nods Amar.


    "Ahhh scary. I don''t wanna think about. It''s good enough if gramps and Gable can''t."


    "But cooooooooool."


    No no no Lukas not cool. Very bad. Bad for me.


    The door bursts open, letting in a cold draft.


    "No one burned anything right?!" shouts out Georgie, a basket of bread clutched to his arms.


    His ragged condition makes my heart hurt... in fashion! What a waste of such beautiful clear skin and carefully conditioned hair. He needs new clothes that aren''t hideously medieval soon. If I am to keep him around as my assistant he must look the part, even when busy!


    "No Georgie, close the door! It''s chilly."


    "No we''re too awesome for that!"


    "No? I think pot number 14 is a little burnt? It was the onions but Rosalia says she likes them kinda burning."


    "Browning. I said I like them browning."


    That''s where the aroma is! The deliciousness. Only with proper time and heat can the true deliciousness of grilled onion be brought out and incorporated into other dishes. Simple children don''t understand yet the magic of searing, yellowing and cooking with grilled onions!


    "Oh. Well, it smells burning."


    "...*sigh* Burnt, you mean ''it smells burnt''." I correct Amar''s childish grammar.


    "You think so too right?"


    "That''s not what I meant. I said-"


    Georgie takes the bait and finally tastes the soup to shut us up. Good because he has more to taste soon. It''s not a very fair vote if it''s among the three of us.


    "Whatever is in this pot is burnt yeah."


    Curses. Well that''s what the test kitchen is for. Shut up Amar, stick that tongue back in your mouth or I''ll make you smell fermenting cheese again.


    Along with the wonderful breadbasket Georgie has brought along, with Mr. Boaregous''s research results, are some more supplies to stock the tester kitchen. My little assistant took quite a while with balancing everything.


    Maybe soup pots were all we could do right now until I get more supplies? Who knows? Maybe I really wanted to make all this soup and stews? Who knows.


    Either way, I want bread bowls now for my soupy. Gimmie the sourdough one.


    "Wait. What in the world are you going to do with all this!?" Georgie waves around, gesturing to the who knows how many cooked soup pots and already tested experiments.


    "It''s 57 pots and 30 pans? Lukas spilled 3."


    "Those ones sucked anyways!"


    Thank you calculator, I am writing that down. Father gave me another blank ledger. Unfortunately for me though I fear it is quite expensive to produce books of any kind, empty or not. Hmmm, another thing to research.


    "You can''t just waste food like that!" Georgie screeches.


    We don''t ignore him, but it''s just very normal of him to nag. I completely understand, those teenaged mood swings sure are bad for you.


    There there Georgie, why don''t you have some bread and calm down? May I recommend the ciabatta? Or the crunchy pane di matera? I think the bakers did a good job on that one, replicating my ideal deliciousness.


    Figs and grape yeast really do work well, glad we got more yeasts to play with. Good job me!


    Yay for bread!


    "We tested enough Georgie, I got enough research. We can just give the rest to the troops during dinner. Also my tongue is bored. "


    "Mine too, all I taste are bland beans. My arms hurt."


    "Me too! And bored! I want the dark rye bread for mine!"


    "Is there any lavash? Or roti?"


    Throwing over the still warm crunchy bread to Lukas was no issue but turning the thing into an actual bread bowl was. Bread bowls are fun and tasty, stop being so sad about the lack of flatbread Amar. It''s loafy bread bowl day! Geez kids can be so picky about the littlest things.


    lt''s also a really common way to eat among the locals. Saves on dishes, or if they don''t have dishes, acts in place of one. I should make some for father as bribes. I think he would enjoy the ''commoner''s'' novelty.


    "You can''t just give ppl pots of beans!? What are people going to do with all these!"


    Actually we were more planning on dumping everything together into one vat. Create one ''super monster bean soup'', as Lukas calls it, to cover up the experimental mess. Stirring it all is very muscle building.


    Good news, I have isolated some beans I would prefer to cultivate taste-wise. Father''s research notes, which were generously provided and organized by Alfonso, helped out too.


    Better news- these odd little brown beans I have found are a bit naturally sweet! We have dessert beans! Knock off adzuki beans have been identified. I shall have my bean paste for new sweets soon enough. So much potential.


    Wait a bit longer tummy. You shall soon have anpan again.


    So what if there''s a little bit of a mess to clean up after? As long as I don''t have to clean it. I''m using my young miss card here.


    Now that Georgie is here, however, the next experiment can begin.


    "Georgie. If you would be so kind...I command you to identify the best soup!"


    "Out of....these?" again, he gestured to the room of pots and pans.


    Huh, the more I look at it the more I realize that maybe I went over the top on bean testing. Just maybe. Oh well, good luck to whoever is on dish duty.


    "Of course not- those were the experiments. These over here are lunch. Now pick!"


    For some odd reason, Georgie looks fearful.


    How silly, it''s just soup. No need to be scared. You just need to pick the best one, which is obviously mine. Come on, it''s easy. Just go for the best, that creamy rich clam chowder. It obviously stands out.


    That richness, that flavor of fresh juicy clam meat melding with thick rich cream and bits of bright vegetables. How could anyone resist?! It beats these kiddies'' basic pots by leaps and bounds! I have just created this world''s first clam chowder, the perfect thing for bread bowls! Bwahahaha!


    Before Georgie can rightfully crown me the rightful winner of this petty soup side competition, he screams and hollers, going terribly red in the face. I think he''s even choking a little....ok a lot. Is he alright?


    "I didn''t do it! Mine''s the bacon cabbage one!" shouts out Lukas, quick to defend himself.


    "I think it''s mine?" Amar bends his little head, quickly sliding a half-used pitcher of milk over to my choking assistant chef. To which Georgie is now hastily drowning himself in.


    "What did you put it there? I thought it was mostly beans and tomatoes. Georgie breathe! Georgie no, I spent too much time and money on your beauty to have you die!"


    Of course, he''s not really dying. Just maybe on fire, at least his face and neck are. Is it spicy? We have spicy?!


    Like idiots, the three of us spend a few seconds watching Georgie literally cry tears of intense pain, unable to utter a comprehensible word, then proceed each stuff a spoonful of danger into our own mouths.


    Awww I''m disappointed, it''s not that spicy at all. Paprika, black pepper, something else....but not really spicy after the first 3 seconds. Just a nice initial warmth, which is still very good given this world''s standards on spice. The kids look fine too, slurping along. Why is Georgie acting like he''s had a 5 alarm chili?


    "I only put in one dried chile? It was really little, he could have eaten it whole? That might hurt yeah."


    "YOU HAD CHILES?! There were chiles in this kitchen? Where?!"


    "They were strung up in the corner over there."


    "What are chilis and why is everyone going kookoo over it?! Is it yummy? Georgie doesn''t make it look like it was very yummy, he looks red and dead. Ooooh is it a new weapon!?"


    Georgie is doing a great job with babysitting, really. Very qualified at this point.


    I''m sure whoever walked in right at this moment would be treated to such a nice sight. Surrounded by soup pots, a red faced teenaged boy groans in pain as he drowns in another jug of milk while some small children play fight among themselves over open stove flames.


    That''s what the messenger boy saw at least, sliding the door open after constantly ignored knocking. Whatever smart opening message he had prepared was stuck in his throat as he registered the scene.


    Except for Georgie, the intrusion had the rest of us looking up. I can''t help but narrow my eyes and seethe a bit in displeasure.


    "Phillipe!"


    Lukas cheers, perking up like a little boy who has spotted a friend. As if there was nothing odd at all about this sudden appearance.


    What is he doing here, especially in my private test kitchen? I need to up security somehow. Shouldn''t Philippe have gone back with his family for the winter? Unlike some others, he doesn''t need to stay here really.


    "I do beg pardon for interrupting~ I''ve been sent to deliver a message." the little redhead recites, no faults to be found in his manner.


    In front of me stands a miniature version of my so very recognizable ''gentleman'' fiend of a cousin. One I know very well from a lifetime of childhood rivalry, despite our little age gap. With his carrot-apple hair and sapphire blue eyes, a contrast that really does stand out against a neutral fair skin tone. Baby cheeks hide that scholarly refined bone structure to come but that dreadfully sharp nose is still there, a haughty sneer hiding behind his good boy smile.


    What a shame- he would be such a good skin and hair model with that coloring. But he''s my cousin! Can''t use him.


    He''s a clean little kid, about the same age as the kindergarteners yet already so much more polished and polite. Very much a nobleman''s son alright. Every part of his bearing, from his fine dress to the tip of his sharp little nose, screams money and practice. Many parents would love such a seemingly smart and well-behaved boy.


    Thus, I don''t like him. Can''t trust him. What kid talks like that on their own?


    Before I can even decide how to proceed, Lukas'' jumps, a flurry of excited questions and random ramblings spilling from his chirping mouth.


    It''s a little adorable how happy Lukas looks but something is obviously off in how Phillipe reflects off the chatter. It''s a rather one way conversation. There''s also the blank reaction from Amar, who innocently blinks but otherwise only watches the exchange rather than join in.


    With a charming little smile, Phillipe turns to address the room, more like the host rather than a mere messenger as he so claimed.


    "One of the senior teachers is calling for you Amar. You have a lot of make up work and chores."


    "Oh ok." slurps Amar, far more interested in lunch than the news or even the news runner. His lack of a reaction highlighted the tenseness that a young immature Phillipe fails to fully hide. How suspicious.


    "You should go now." enunciated Phillipe.


    "Ok."


    "Madam Damia won''t be pleased if you dawdle."


    "Ok."


    "It''s terribly rude to keep an honored teacher waiting."


    I bite into my bread, watching the new show presented to me. I''m not alone, by now Georgie seems to have recovered and quietly observes with a quiet expression of concern.


    Philippe is obviously up to something, but what? Something tells me this isn''t just a messenger run. The fact that he''s still here in the troops'' campground instead of a carriage ride back to his home or on some vacation is already a red flag. This is the first time I''ve seen him so close in this life without our parents around. He may be very young now but I can''t underestimate him.


    What did father say to do around adults and Bicchieris? Play dumb?


    My reputation is rather infamous around the troops but that''s just that, reputation. I never really interact much with the few kids here, let alone the young ones closer to my current age. I most certainly take note to avoid my blood relative.


    I can still see him as I last remember. Feel the way my neck curves painfully, catching the hand that dared take a sword upon my back.


    He always knew how to play dirty. I wasn''t much better in our academic competitions and dealings but really now? Behind a lady''s back? His swooning fangirls would be taken ill at the improper show of chivalry.


    But that''s not a grown Phillipe standing there, not yet.


    "Ok. I know."


    Amar finishes his bowl without much hurry, stuffing another bread into his mouth before hopping down the counter.


    He munches and takes more food to go, waving us goodbye as usual. There are no secret codes or messages to his usual smiling expression. In fact, he walks around rather casually. That''s the most interesting thing.


    The kid is taking his sweet time lingering around when normally he runs off and disappears in a few blinks. Oh ho ho ho I see. Amar is teasing our unexpected guest, and it''s somehow working at making Phillipe uncomfortable. I don''t know what''s going on here but I am quite enjoying how my cousin clenches his little fists where he thinks people won''t notice.


    "Sorry for the soup Georgie, I hope you feel better. Bye Lukas. Bye Rosa. "


    Only when he''s far gone does my cousin let out an uncomfortable breath, dropping his smile into something a bit more dire looking. I continue to play dumb, just a pretty little child gnawing on bread. I don''t notice anything at all, nope. Georgie have some bread, it will calm you down and help that burning.


    "Impertinent.... Are you all quite alright?"


    "Yeah, why wouldn''t we be?" asks Lukas, a little confused but again he goes ignored as Phillipe turns to our unofficial babysitter.


    "You there serf, how dare you place the young lady on there! It''s filthy and dangerous. Get her down!"


    Georgie bristles at the tone. While he''s moved from the milk puddle to stand by my side, he makes no motion to move me. Nor would I allow him too. It''s perfectly safe on this counter! What gives?


    "Who are you?" I tilt my head in mock ignorance.


    Play dumb Rosalia. You are a dumb sweet baby toddler, you are a Lilyanne. Do not throw a pot at his head.


    "Rosa! This is Phillipe! He''s really smarts and stuff and like has all the other boys listening to him super easy and his house is really far and big and has lots of fancy glass things-"


    "How dare you!"


    Finally, Lukas is deemed worthy of his attention. Gotta hand it to him, the kid stays hyper and friendly through the entire unpleasant exchange, even if he''s a looks a little lost. That gives Phillipe enough of an opening to lecture on.


    "That is the young Lady of the house Ventrella. My own blood relations. How dare you address a noble, especially a girl as such! Know your place!"


    "My what? That''s just Rosa! And that''s Georgie!"


    "Hmmmpf! Since you were selected on that raid trip your ill-bred arrogance has risen. I see you got far worse with your apprenticeship! As expected from an unknown commoner, even if you did come from a recommendation."


    "Why are you being so yelly Phillipe?! Oh are you still mad that you didn''t get picked on that raid? That was like forrreever ago. Amar said you were butthurt and there are more raids and dungeons to see! Can''t you go to one of your family''s land''s dungeons? Oh can we go?!"


    "Silence! I did not give you permission to speak to me! Apologize to both myself and my young cousin!"


    "Ohhh you really are still butthurt. Hehee I like that word. I don''t think I have to say sorry for being stronger though! I got picked because of that! And I got to meet my new master! Oh Oh oh and my new master said that it''s actually really bad if I hold back my strength because then I don''t learn how to practice it! But you said before that I had to if I wanted to play because those were the rules but Amar and Gab- er my master said those were dumb rules! So let''s practice training 100%!"


    "Silence imbecile! Your mindless chatter is dirtying the air."


    "Nooooo that''s the smell of beans. Right Rosa?! We made lots of soup! Do you want soup?! Mine''s yummiest because of bacon. and no one else used bacon. "


    "You!!!!"


    Pffffft I flipping love Lukas'' nonsense and how they trip up Phillipe. Okay, it''s decided, I need to keep his loud mouth around just for Phillipe. Hey hey hey that''s your former loyal henchman there dear cousin! I don''t know how you did it a lifetime ago if his chatter angers you this much already!


    Ah, but do I detect a hint of jealousy behind his insults.


    Right, Amar and Lukas are the only kids in their age range allowed on such missions. What little terrors, as Gable so fondly call us....Hey wait why was I included in that description?


    There are no normal easy to kill people inside these troop walls. While the Phillipe I know isn''t weak, I can''t say he was particularly very strong? At least not that I saw. Rather than dirtying himself with some more unsavory missions he was often milling around the right circles and parties or chose prestigious and glamorous sounding adventures to add to his resume.


    "It''s useless to waste my breath on attempting to polish or educate you. I thought you had what it took once. Until you were dirtied and led astray."


    "Of course I have what it takes, I have all the takes! We weren''t astray, Cap was just taking us on a really long camping trip and there I got to meet my teacher and it''s really fun and cool but I can''t say everything because then he''ll be mad again and then chickens."


    "Imbecile!? Did you not intake a thing I said?!"


    Despite his rudeness and confusion, there''s something rather childishly fond in Phillipe''s expression. Though he did his best to ignore Lukas previously and even defended my supposed honor, he hasn''t looked back at me once. Lukas is just too attention-grabbing, his little cloud of pale hair and overdone enthusiasm overtaking the room.


    Ah, Phillipe you must have really wanted to add Lukas into your collection. I have no idea why but you honestly do, even at this young age.


    Too bad so sad. I don''t like what you did to him in the last life so I''ll just be handing him over to Gable now.


    Let''s see what is a normal dumb baby to do? As amusing and informational as this situation is I can see a bad time is escalating.


    "Scawy! *hic hic* Georgwie it too loud and scawy!"


    What a good little assistant, he only shivers violently for 2 seconds before taking me into his arms , playing along with my act.


    "Yes it is quite the commotion, all from...a mere messenger. There there now young miss Rosalia, don''t cry, don''t let the mean boy make you cry."


    "Too scawy! Meanie carwot so loud an scawy...mean to big bruders!"


    "Oh noes, the meanie carrot scared you! Don''t cry now! You might get him in trouble."


    "Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!! Scway!!!! Meanie loud and scawi!!!! Save bruder Lukas from meanie!"


    How''s that? Is that a passable Lilyanne imitation?


    I think I may have actually shocked Lukas into a moment of silence though. What is it with most people getting horrified when I actually act my age!?


    "Hmmmpfff, playing with commoners! You there serf, don''t teach her awful things! She''s too young to know any better but I am her cousin and a noble, your master by default! How dare you address me as such! Or allow your mistress among such filthy low borns!"


    "WWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH Scawy!!!!!!!"


    Oh no, a pot of super bean soup has gone flying in my distress. Oh dear, oh no. Wherever shall it land? I''m a crying toddler, what is aiming?


    Plop


    What a coincidence! My toddler strong arms from soap and soup making have somehow flung it right at Phillipe! Oh nooooooooo.


    "Oh no. What a mess." drawls Georgie, voicing out my true thoughts in his monotone voice. Take over Georgie! I''m busy playing my part with my maidenly baby tears.


    The spectacle, however, was enough to have a bean soaked Phillipe huffing and puffing away indigently, though not without another general insult.


    Good riddance!


    "What was that about?" I turn and ask, finally putting a stop to my act.


    "What do you mean was that?! What was THAT!" screams back Lukas, referring to my little cry play.


    Eh he''ll get used to it. Georgie has.


    "How else would I get him to go away? Crying works really well on boys and adults, watching my sister taught me that. Why are you nice to him when he was so awful?"


    "Phillipe? He''s not uh awful? Just butthurt and weird sometimes but he''s really nice to me, or he was. A lot better than the other kids and he doesn''t say I''m annoying or make me go away. I don''t know why he''s still mad. Ok I do know a little because I talk too much and he says I look cooler when I keep quiet and he''ll be my friend but it''s really really hard to keep shut and nice. But that doesn''t make sense either because Amar knows really well how to keep quiet and nice but Phillipe still doesn''t like him and-"


    And on and on he goes, when Lukas will stop no one knows. Ah, we must never let him get captured and interrogated, he spills so easily and without a care. How nice and refreshing it must be living in his head.


    "So he''ll only be your friend if you keep quiet and nice?" I try to simplify.


    "That''s! No! I don''t know?"


    "That doesn''t sound very nice. Or much like a friend. You don''t have to keep quiet around Rosalia or Amar? Nor me? I mean there''s a difference between you children needing to behave because oh by the gods are you just messes but....that doesn''t sound right." replies Georgie, making sense of it all.


    "I don''t know! I didn''t have any friends before I came here."


    Ow ow ow sad cuteness strike to the heart. Two birds, one stone. Georgie and I are the birds. Ow ow ow, someone fix this.


    "I don''t know but I know he doesn''t like it very much when I do better on tests and exercises. And he really doesn''t like it when Amar gets called on for private training, which is weird because why do you want more work?! It''s really hard because he gets mad when I do good but if I don''t do get then...then it gets bad. "


    "I get it. He doesn''t like people being better than him." I state, more from personal experience than anything.


    "I don''t know.....maybe. I''m the best though?! So I got picked on raids, and no one else is allowed because it''s not safe if you''re not strong enough."


    Ah, good old Phillipe, very predictable, even at this age. He was always the first to rub it in my face when I failed at something versus him or Lilyanne. Always knew where to hit it where it hurts another insecure child the most. Huh, interesting?


    Is that''s what''s going on here?


    "Does he....tell the other boys not to play with you?"


    "No! He helps me play with them! Oh...but he says not to play with Amar, and that''s not cool even if it''s because he''s all mad and butthurt."


    "The others actually listen to him?"


    "Yeah it''s so cool how he has so many friends that follow him and stuff!"


    "I''ve...never seen that, and I think I''ve been around the troops a lot."


    "That''s silly Rosa. You only play around with the adults and teenagers! Which is super cool because Philippe can''t do that, he''s just with the small kids who aren''t allowed to do much. They''re nice when we play but it gets boring a lot. You''re extra small and you do all sorts of fun things!"


    The wheels are turning in my little brain as are the ones in Georgie. I don''t like the sound of this at all.


    "And you still want to be his friend? Even when he talks down on you like that? I know I tease and yell at you too but, not like that. "


    "Um...yeah? I know you''re all just joking!"


    "I''m sorry. I''ll do better to not call you mean things. How he talks to you is not ok. That''s not a very good friend."


    "But...we just joke yell alot...so...he..."


    Lukas looks like he''s confronting a rather difficult homework problem, despite his words there''s a lot of uncertainty to his manner.


    "Does Rosalia or Amar ever make you feel that Lukas? Do I? Or anyone in your life? Do they make you feel like you''re not good enough as you are so you have to fake being a certain way to make them like you?" asks Georgie, sounding very mature.


    "No! You guys are different and it''s really fun! But that''s normal because I''m not good enough at doing some things or acting or else....I don''t know..."


    "Have you talked about this with others? Your guardian?"


    By now Georgie has long stopped fake rocking me, picking up Lukas as well. He may not look like it but this little jr. chef of mine is very motherly isn''t he?


    "No! Because it''s not cool."


    "A lot of things aren''t cool! You kids making all these dishes to wash is not cool! How that Phillipe brat, noble or not, talks to you and me is not cool! Did he even call you your name once?"


    "Georgie''s right. It''s not cool at all. It...sounds like bullying. You should talk to Gable too....he''s helped solve a lot of things right? He can do it again...but he can''t read your mind so you have to tell him. When you go back, you have to tell him everything ok?"


    "But that''s a lot and!!!....okay fine. I''ll just ask Gable or something," he mumbles near the end, almost curling into himself in the nook of Georgie''s arm.


    Oh dear.


    A strange mood as settled since Phillipe''s unexpected appearance. Some knots and kinks under the surface. Lukas is now oddly depressed, my Georgie is simmering his fussy anger, and I have a lot more work to do. More than just beans. Amar definitely knows more to this drama that I have been blissfully ignorant of and inferring from Luka''s ramblings, he''s just as involved.


    Dear cousin, it looks like I won''t be able to play dumb with you for long. See these are my minions, this is my territory, and you''re the one that doesn''t belong. Are you ready to play with me again?


    It will be just like old times.

 85 Warm doughnuts in the morning

    I understand why people dislike winter, especially in ancient times. You''re locked up, cooped up, freezing and starving. It''s a cruel world out there and winter is just sad.


    Unless you''re one of the rich and privileged that is, aka me.


    Hallelujah praise the fact that I''m born rich! Don''t need to work to earn my keep. Got a fancy house with thick walls and some fancy heating stones built down below that make no sense but hey magic. Every day I wake up in a soft warm bed, every day my tummy is always filled, Every person mostly listen to me. Mostly, give or take. Can''t expect perfection.


    What an extravagant life this is. I don''t have to go to work as I did in the modern times nor do I have to suffer in the harsh wintertime as the common people do. The struggles and troubles of the world don''t apply to me in this existence.


    I am like a blessed little princess, a spoiled little cat, a princess in great pain with a muscle cramp.


    Ow ow ow OW! Cramp!


    "Why are you slacking on the floor princess?! It''s wet and cold down there? Up and at em!" shouts the fitness instructor from hell from afar.


    Just kidding, it''s just Ms. Tamera and ow ow OW! The cramp is back ow ow ow.


    Oh my poor tummy, it''s my leg that hurts but in this position now it''s my tummy. Double wammy. The searing pain of overused baby muscles in off set by the literal icy ground below.


    Hello yes, it is I, the eldest miss of the great noble house Ventrella. Even actual royalty from many countries cannot compare to me in wealth and status. I am above most people in this world in so many factors, despite only being 3 years old. I am an elite!


    And here I am, outside at an unholy hour, doing drill practice like a common army recruit. My pants of exertion and pain show up as fog in the air. The bits of mud that is caked in my hair and on my cheeks feels frozen. It''s not snowing but it''s that cold.


    I never should have set up a better road system and semi-public Ventrella shuttle. Now I have one less excuse to miss out on morning training with Tamera. Oh why oh why did I agree to this ridiculous exercise schedule?


    Buff baby, strong baby, gonna be a bad ass little girl.


    I repeat the mantra like it''s a pop song as I drag my weighted down body through the obstacle course for the 19th time. After massaging the cramp away and taking a yet another rest break, I am back at it. If anything grampa really approves of the ''training'' plan, in fact he likes it too much. Wanted to be as involved as possible. I was there the day uncle Geoff and his men had to pull him away from tampering with my Tamera approved baby obstacle course. Somehow I don''t think he was making it any easier.


    I swear Lilyanne doesn''t get this sort of bullying.


    "Waaahhh so cute! What an adorable play course!"


    "How nostalgic."


    "Awww look at her little legs go. Awwwww so squishy."


    "Hahaha how nice it is to be young and energetic this early."


    Occasionally a soldier or whoever passing by in the camp will stop and coo at me from the distance. This world is really lacking entertainment because I sure feel like a show dog. How about you all shrink down to my size and do this huh? Go back to your own business, whatever it is at this morning hour.


    I want to scream at them but I can''t even afford to oxygen to squeak. Huff huff puff puff. Just one more round to go! 20th lap!


    "Is the brat even breathing doing that?"


    "Hi Tamera. Ah, that looks fun. Hi Rosalia! "


    "Eeeeey grumpy brat and stabby brat! Whatcha, bring today?"


    From the end of the obstacle circle, I can make out a slouching Yuna and a waving Amar. More importantly, they''re carrying some very familiar kitchen baskets and I can smell fried dough.


    Food!


    I am dying, my limbs are burning but I will speed up for food and only food!


    Aaaaaand done! Finally!


    *plop*


    "Oi, princess get off the ground. Hahaha, this one sure likes rolling around in the dirt." laughs Tamera with her mouth half full.


    "I think she''s dead?" munches Amar, poking my head with a doughnut stick.


    "Meh, more food for the rest of us," shrugs Yuna.


    How rude, torturing me like that. I don''t even have the strength to bite. Just let me get a breath. A lot of breaths.


    Like a trained coach and crew around a mid-match boxer, they lift me up into a limp sitting position and proceed to splash freezing water at my face. With a little more wrangling they actually get some of that water into my mouth.


    I need a better crew.


    "Bwahaha you look a gaping fish in the market." Yuna snickers and I make note to deduct his food pay.


    Does the kid only laugh around food and mocking others? Well that''s fair, I of all people can''t judge that. Amar distracts my bubbling rage by waving a doughnut hole in front of my face.


    "Rosa, keep your mouth open. "


    "Fine but I want the honey doughnuts. Only."


    "Aww, I was gonna throw you the fish ones."


    "I know because that''s what you did last time!"


    "What''s a ''doughnut''?" asks Tamera, willingly eating the stinky flavored one in Amar''s little hand.


    "Rosalia likes calling the globis doughnuts. It still makes sense I think. Nuts of dough? And the fritters are doughnut sticks? Which is a lot longer to say?"


    "Ahhhhhh more Rosalia words."


    Tamera finally forgoes all her weights to settle down with the morning picnic. Her choice of carbs is spread with some chunky olive paste and gasp, more fish sauce.


    Oh ew, I have nothing against fish paste but it just does not go with doughnuts. It''s a cultural difference, the image of doughnuts is all wrong in my head.


    Don''t think about it too hard, we have a lot of coastlines and ocean. Tiny salty fish and shrimp are easy and cheap to make into a preserve. Some people just like salt.


    I blame grampa. He can''t cook but somehow he popularized the doughnut? Thus he set the standards! Or at least fried dough. What a typical guy, but I can''t blame him. Fried bread and pastries are delicious in a sinfully oily crisp way.


    They come in two main flavors around here, honey and god damn fish sauce. Sweet and savory. They''re much denser than a modern doughnut, due to the local grains and wheat. Lots of barley, spelt and farrow type grains are used in the troops, it''s just cheaper to feed all these people than pure wheat. To make them fluffier and richer, people add easily made ricotta cheese into the dough mix. I guess that makes then cheesecake doughnuts technically. Little balls of doughnut holes or long handheld sticks that resemble my old favorite youtiao.


    I miss Chinese youtiaos. I miss hot soy milk. I miss a lot of things...maybe people...maybe.


    But I mostly miss food! Yep! Food is number one in my heart. Closely followed by money! Oh hohoho~


    Yay for honey cheese doughnuts! They''re not coated in sugar or anything since that would be far too extravagant, but they''re a lot healthier that way and you can eat much more. The bites of poppy seeds also add an interesting flavor.


    I wanna try making my own doughnuts but this kind of local hometown food isn''t bad either. The original goods liked them too, at least the honey-flavored ones.


    It''s so yummy how the ricotta seems to melt the light honey dough in my mouth. They''re still nice and warm. Must be fresh from the kitchens.


    For protein, I get thrown some boiled quail or whatever tiny eggs, ack hot!


    Amar thankfully plays food basketball on easy mode with me this morning. I managed to catch most everything, even when Yuna and Tamera joined in. If it was Lukas, the boys would be flinging food across the room to each other.


    I think I started a weird sort of game.


    What is it with these people in the troops and tossing games? Is it the lack of entertainment? Should we get some basketball hoops and a court? Ayy but then I would have the explain the rules and I''m sure it''s going to turn violent and bloody with these sorts of people.


    Ah that''s a thought for another today. Let''s just enjoy sweet fresh ''globi'' doughnuts. Now open up grumpy cat I want a turn to throw now. Energy restored, I am revived by the powers of food.


    It should be time soon for mother to wake for breakfast. I need to catch the next wagon home if I''m to fool her supervision. It''s not that I''ve been specifically told I''m not allowed to commute back and forth. She just doesn''t like it, especially when I go on my own.


    I am only three after all.


    It''s fine when grampa or a baby sitter is with me. Can''t argue there. Not the maids though. I''ll never take the maids, they''re busy fussing over Lilyanne or breaking for tea and gossip to bother with me anyways. We made this nice little unspoken truce where I just...go, they don''t bother me, and no one, especially Ms. Gerta needs to know.


    What a good deal. Less work sneaking around for me and less receiving my pranks on them. We all win like this. It''s messy work to keep finding and storing creepy critters and other material in my bag you know?


    "I gotta go now, Yuna can you be my babysitter back today?"


    "Meh...what''s for breakfast at your place?"


    "I don''t know what they''re making besides some new soup but there are lots of leftover torte de riso sweets."


    "Good enough for me. Accepted. I''ll take your escort job."


    "Yuna you just ate. Quite a lot."


    "Your point is?"


    Very fair argument grumpy cat, approved. 1st breakfast and second breakfast are two different things. He''s also a growing boy, the same age but much healthier and more active than my Abigail. He needs all the calories.


    "Amar are you coming today too?" I make to ask with some strain.


    I really do fear for my kitchen''s cinnamon and sugar stocks if my staff keep being stubborn. Please so no and avoid my kitchens till they calm down Amar. I know it''s not your fault, it''s them, they''re crazy about food, but please. Please no more pudding.


    Luckily for me, the boy is on the same page and shakes his head today.


    "I have a lot of make up training to do today if I want to go on the next mission."


    "There''s another mission group that will take you? It''s not back to the scouting site right?!"


    Again he shakes his fluffy little head at my second question. That''s good, let''s not have another cracking concussion incident.


    My angel of a sister doesn''t heal for cheap you know? Nor do I think she knows how to yet, at least not without me. I''ve already reported my knowledge of Lilyanne''s attributes to Grampa and Gable. What they make out of that early information is up to them. I''m just the messenger.


    "I don''t mind going back there again but this is a different place and it''s for a hunt. It sounds fun. Yuna''s going too." explains Amar.


    "Hell yeah, I wanna get out of this place and somewhere actually warm!"


    "I hear the fruits are yummy too."


    "Meh, I like the devil dog meat better. We go for the hunt, the fur, and horns are what makes the gold."


    A hunt? Somewhere warm? To the south then?


    It will turn to spring eventually but if they get the chance to travel somewhere nicer for the rest of winter I can see the appeal. I certainly wouldn''t mind running away somewhere else at this time. Ah yes, springtime with my daaaaaarling stupid fiance. Joy. Such fun.


    I wonder if I can duel him again? It would be fun to beat him around while I still can. All fair and good if it''s a duel.


    But back to the hunt details. There''s more than enough time to deal with the stupid prince, unfortunately. Let''s not let my lovely little lazy life revolve around or be so impacted by him. How horrible, perish the thought.


    I wave goodbye to Tamer as I drag along Amar to squeeze details from while Yuna and I speed walk to the wagon stop right outside the main troop gates.


    "I haven''t been assigned to another mission for a really long time. I know I''m younger than a lot of others but it feels weird. I like being away. It''s not bad or anything and there''s a lot of fun times when we go places like the farms where your papa is making all those big wheels or with Lukas and Cap''. But..."


    "You get booooored, and damn restless. It doesn''t feel right to just sit back and let the rust gather. Well the hunt is coming" finishes Yuna with a slight growl.


    That''s odd seeing so much passion from grumpy cat, he''s usually a disinterested teen. But something about this hunting talk really gets him riled up. It''s how he livens up, the peeks of a sharp grin. I stole Yuna out of all the random kids because I like his face, but I can''t deny he has a delinquent student aura around him.


    "I guess so? Am I bored? I don''t know. "


    "Shit Amar, I don''t know either. But winter? Something about winter damn it. I can never get used to it, staying cooped up waiting for the cold to end? Makes no sense to me."


    "Right? Because even in winter you can hunt! There''s a lot to still do, but here everyone just seems to shut down. Is it the cold? In the mountains ranges east of here it snows near all year but people still work and herd the animals."


    "Exactly, this is prime fox and fennel hunting season! They''re so damn easy to see in the snow. They don''t make as good game as the horns and oryxes in a hunt but even a low grade fox pelt can go for damn good money. The other side of the mountain is shit, but there are parts of it I miss."


    "The other side?" I interrupt.


    This has been very insightful about the world around me. It''s not like anyone talked to the original Rosalia about hunts or anything that didn''t pertain to noble politics. That most I can recall is some hybrid fox beast scarf and hat that the previous me spent a ton of gold on. It was very soft, but more than that I want to hear about what''s gotten my parttime barkeep all heated up.


    "Meh, long story."


    "Oh Rosalia, you don''t know? Hmm you can go around I guess but, across the sea there''s a lot of lands. Cross those islands and more land and there''s a wild country that''s just mountains. It''s easier to use to sea and sailboats through a straight. It''s really hard to travel through there. A lot harder than the mountains to the north, it can''t even be compared? Like this big wall? So some people, like Yuna are from the other side of the mountains."


    "Oh I see."


    Hmmm my history lessons included ports but not a lot of info to that part of the world. Wasn''t it supposed to be rather barren lands and groups of vulnerable nomads here and there? Interesting.


    "Pffft brats. Amar don''t go blabbing about other people when you''re one of them. You all make it sound so easy. Great big wall. Great big shit hole walls." grumbles Yuna.


    Oh baby teenagers, so cute yet so troublesome. Oh the teen angst. Oh well, that''s part of the charm.


    "I think it''s okay to miss things. Even if it wasn''t all great. You can move on and still miss things, parts and pieces. Because they''re still good things and they make up who you are through the bad."


    I speak honestly, relating a little too easily to the young teen.


    However, it hits me a moment later, as these two boys give me the bug eyed stares that I remember I am in fact not a wise old tired adult talking as a mentor but a mere toddler. How am I not burnt at the stake as a witch yet?


    "It''s true, I miss a lot of things. And sometimes I feel bad because I think I''m not supposed to now that I''m here or I shouldn''t because then that will just make it worse. But I still miss things, even if the memories get blurry. I smell something or the sunlight gets bright and hazy in the right way and I just get really sad for no reason."


    "Hey can you midgets....not sound so grown, it''s damn creepy. Damn when did brats make this much sense?"


    To hide his shame and any hints of having feelings, Yuna curls into his coat cape thing like a turtle. Awwww no come back out, no shame Yuna. Oh my, aren''t teenagers just are so sensitive and cute? Ah youth.


    Ah don''t curl in further, I''m not laughing at you I''m cooing. There''s a difference. Okay maybe I''m giggling, it''s just adorable.


    "You''re not that much older?" Amar tilts his head in mild confusion.


    "I''m a whole decade older!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Than Rosa yeah? But everyone calls you a brat too?"


    To be honest Amar kind of always looks like this. Like there''s just a lot of things he doesn''t understand and he just rolls with it. Which is also very fair.


    I''m still figuring this kid''s faces out, which ones are sincere and which are his innocent ''I didn''t do it'' follow-ups to pranks. Next to Lukas this little one is a lot harder to really read. Which is most likely why my cousin can''t win him over or use him.


    Oh yeah, Philippe.


    "Have you guys heard about what happened to Philippe?! As in Philippe Bicchieri?"


    "Pffft, brat I''m pretty damn sure everyone stationed here in winter and half the neighboring towns know that little Bicchieri fell down the shit hole and couldn''t get out." snorts Yuna.


    "I want to know how he fell in?" answers back Amar rather plainly.


    Again there''s that confused look. As if he''s really playing out the scenes of how one goes from bathroom to the bottom of an outhouse hole.


    "Okay so get this, I heard from my father that he blamed me. Or well not me one of us when we were making soup."


    "Pffffft ahaha that little shithead blamed a lot of names! Was shouting out every little grudge he could think of! I wouldn''t blame anyone for pushing him in."


    "But no one did though? No one else came through or out that area? There was no one to push him? It''s really funny how he fell all by himself."


    "Meh, I still say he got what was waiting for him. Oi Rosalia, I''m not getting deducted for shit-talking your cousin right?"


    "I don''t like him so it''s fine. Please continue the poopy shit talk."


    "Oh shit don''t you say that or people will think I taught you that and nag. Shit shit shit, Amar you too."


    It''s kind of too late for that? I mean I''m not a real child so it''s fine but Yuna has been juvenile delinquent swearing since I''ve known him.


    "What word? Shit? That''s the word you say most." repeats Amar.


    "It''s probably is ''shit''. Shit is Yuna''s favorite word."


    "Right, shit is Yuna''s. Even though I think Gable is worse with says a lot of other things."


    "But if we say shit people will think it''s Yuna''s shit."


    "Oh, commander did say he''ll punish anyone who teaches you or your sister bad words. If everyone thinks it''s Yuna then..."


    "...you damn shitty brats." Grumpy cat is back and growling just as ever!


    Walking to and waiting for the wagon goes much faster by chatting and teasing Yuna. These are very silly and mundane moments, the kind that never gets into cool tv shows or novels that I liked reading. Ah but I guess this is just my life now. That''s fine, let''s avoid too much drama, that will come naturally whether I want it to or not.


    "But it''s Philippe that''s the ''shitty'' one. I think I fell off the desk laughing when father told me."


    "Hehehe had it coming."


    "But there was no poop? The outhouse was just cleaned so it''s not as funny or smelly as everyone thinks." goes Amar, ruining the flow.


    Huh? Well, that''s disappointing! No bathroom jokes. That''s just Philippe falling down an dirty old well booooo. I want the gross humor! Well at least everyone certainly thinks the funny version.


    "Fucking hell just cleaned?!" shouts Yuna, his beaking voice shocking me out of my train of thought.


    "Yeah, I had chores that day and that area was on the schedule earlier. Must have hurt."


    "Wait, what''s the big deal? Isn''t it better for him if it was just clean and poop free? I guess the fall is deeper?"


    "Shit, you really are a princess!" Yuna throws his hands into his lovely hair in laughter, mussing it up. He may be laughing back at me from earlier.


    I feel like I''m missing a good chunk of the world''s common sense here. At my questioning glances, Amar again has to take the time to think how to explain to me like I''m some damn younger child.


    "Rosa, do you know how bathrooms work? When you poop it has to go somewhere and-"


    "I get that part Amar! I''m not that dumb. Now get to the how outhouses are cleaned and why does it hurt part!"


    "Umm so in outhouses, there''s nowhere for it to go when it fills up. Some people just bury a filled up outhouse and move to a new one but mostly we just clean it with dungeon bug juice."


    "Bug juice?"


    "Yep, it''s really dangerous to touch with your skin. But it doesn''t burn through glass or pots coated with this lizard''s saliva or some other things? There''s a lot of these dungeon bugs so it''s pretty cheap. Low-level jobs and sometimes our chores are to go kill a bunch, gather the gut juice, and save them? You only need a few drops every few days but I think it still smells bad so when I''m on duty I just pour more down."


    "It burns right through? It''s acid then. Acid bugs!" I conclude.


    Oh my, what a new discovery! And common people can just buy this stuff for cheap? How dangerous. No wonder they don''t care much for plumbing at the farms. Does my nerd of a father know? How oddly fascinating.


    "I guess so? Right Yuna?"


    "Hell yeah, burns through skin and plain clothes easy. Even if it''s already spread out on the ground. Shit Amar, was it cleaned right that day?! Damn, I knew I said the brat had it coming but....I bet he''s sitting pink and ugly at some pricey healers."


    "It''s really that bad?"


    "If he wasn''t wearing armor or protective gear. But a rich brat like that is bound to have some protection gem on him." Yuna seems to calm down, reasoning it out.


    "It''s okay Rosalia. He''s probably fine. Philippe showed off a lot of his really nice jewels and magic gems before. That much ''acid'' bug juice shouldn''t hurt him much even if he fell in naked. "


    Well that''s good I guess. Still more serious than I had thought. I knew father was hiding details from me.


    "Hehe now that''s a thought, brat going down the shit hole butt naked." snickers the teen. This is my babysitter of the day everyone.


    "Funny but ewww Yuna, why would he? "


    "Because your bean soup ran all under his clothes? It was really funny how mad and red he got. He was really rushing to wash up."


    "Ahhh yeah it was....hey wait you weren''t there when I threw soup at Philippe?!"


    "Oh you threw it at him? After I had to go? Hehe, that''s funny."


    The boy snickers along with Yuna''s snorting laugh and the mood is light and humorous. Yet something is going off in my head.


    I try to replay the last few moments of this casual conversation but there are no clues. No loose ends, nothing to grab on to, but that only makes the suspicion in me grow.


    "You had to go do chores...Hey Amar, how much acid juice did you say you would use?"


    "Hmm? About 1/3 of a small jar? But it''s winter right now so it''s okay to use more since things get stuck."


    "...That would burn a lot more than a few drops."


    "I guess so? The more the worse?"


    "You don''t like him very much either right?"


    "No one does" barks Yuna, but it''s not his answer I''m fishing for right now.


    "Hmm? I guess not? It''s not like he gives me any reason to? He''s even weirder around Lukas too? Sorry, Rosa I know he''s your family. " Amar answers easily as he always speaks.


    His smile is very cute. Very innocent and cute, like a child''s class photo in Kindergarten. It only makes the paranoia sirens blare in my head along with the vague answers that never really answer anything.


    Ah scary.


    There''s no proof to even be suspicious of him and that makes it even scarier. Compared to Lukas this one is a whole lot harder to figure out. Are they really the same age? Speaking of which, I still have a matter of a certain kitti doll to get revenge on. Real revenge.


    "When''s your birthday Amar?"


    "Hmm?"


    "Everyone knows mine just passed, and Lukas was at the very start of winter. What about you? When do you turn 6?"


    "Hey-" for some odd reason Yuna has stepped in, quite literally.


    His foot wedges a space and he takes my hand to pull me a few steps away. The previous joking demeanor is gone, even his grumpy attitude has cooled into something harder. Something angry. Even I can tell I must have stepped on a certain land mine.


    A dust cloud grows in the distance, the wagon is approaching.


    "I-" the boy starts.


    "Don''t answer that. Not if you don''t want to." Yuna snaps.


    With that Yuna picks me up entirely, ready to hop on and board the wagon as soon as it stops properly. He may be holding me but it''s the other boy that he''s protecting. His gruff tone of voice is more than enough to stop me from acting out like I usually do, if not for the tenseness of his young muscles.


    "It''s okay. It''s not that I don''t want to? I just don''t know?" comes Amar''s usual voice, now far below me.


    Even while feeling the warning in Yuna''s hold, curiosity gets the better of me. Who wouldn''t?


    "You don''t know? As in you don''t remember or-"


    "...I don''t know?"


    "Leave it." growls Yuna, and it''s stern, it''s final.


    He boards the wagon with me in tow and that''s that.


    "I''m sorry."


    I don''t know exactly where I misstepped but I did. I really did. Because when I turn back to say sorry, Amar is already gone instead of waving us off. Paranoid me is gone now, it''s just waves of uncertain guilt.


    "You can''t say shit like that." sighs Yuna, collapsing to the back where it''s most comfortable, setting me down to his side.


    He leans back and runs his hands through his still pretty blond hair. It looks almost as nice as Gable''s in the morning winter sunlight. It''s familiar. This sadness being balanced behind a harsh front, like on a tightrope.


    "I''m sorry." I say again, this time to Yuna.


    I hurt him too didn''t I?


    "You say sorry but you don''t get what for huh."


    Because I asked for his birthday. It''s a normal question to me but my standards don''t apply here. I could easily answer that but that''s not what Yuna needs right now. That''s not the real problem at hand.


    "I''m sorry, I''ll be more careful about saying things like that." I apologize.


    Some people think saying sorry is hard. I think it''s harder waiting for that time in between. That time you know you hurt someone and the after. They don''t have to forgive you. But even if they do, you still hurt them.


    I like grumpy cat, for some nonsense reasons I don''t like admitting. He reminds me of someone I once was.


    "I get it. You''re a kid. And you''re a princess. It can''t be helped if you don''t know."


    "Will you tell me? So I know better what not to do anymore?"


    This isn''t the time to argue that I''m not a princess. Because I must seem like a very dumb and ignorant child right now. Technically I am. There''s a lot I don''t know about this world, even if I''ve lived in it for years before.


    Yuna doesn''t stop running his hand through his hair, it''s a nervous tick I think. The teen squints at the sun as if it personally offended him before letting out a dramatic sigh. It feels like a release of tension. It doesn''t feel like he''s mad at me anymore.


    He lets go of one hand and leaves it limp between us.


    "You can''t just...you can''t ask questions like that. Not to kids at the troops. Not to a lot of people, not if they don''t tell you first. Where are you from, who were your parents, ...what''s your birthday. It rubs wrong. Too many shitty stories to go around, a lot of people don''t wanna talk about it."


    "I get it. I was insensitive."


    "You''re a damn tiny kid, it can''t be helped. "


    His other hand, deep tan, keeps twisting and playing with his hair rather painfully. Like he would rather pull it out. It''s a pretty bad habit? I''m not just saying that as a beauty employer.


    "Amar said he didn''t know. He can''t answer me because he actually doesn''t know his own birthday."


    "A lot of us don''t. Look just to be safe you shouldn''t ask anyone that but especially not kids like that. The kind that stays around the troops with no fancy home to go to for the winter. It''s worse when you''re young."


    "I need to apologize to him...but you''re not that much older either Yuna."


    I take his free hand in mine or at least try to. There''s a rather large size difference to our palms. I can''t help but to marvel at the difference in skin shade. If Georgie calls me the fluff of a honey bun then Yuna is all the honey toasted on top. Skin so dark it''s gold and glows, his lighter blond hair creating a halo frame to his face.


    A very good model, I selected well. But there''s more to this boy, to everyone, that just outer appearances.


    "You play with your hair when you feel bad."


    It''s not healthy to pull and tug like that. His deep-set eyes side glances at me from the side and his free hand squeezes back. He doesn''t stop but it''s an acknowledgment.


    "I don''t know either." he finally speaks, so softly I thought it may have just been my imagination until he goes on.


    "My birthday. I don''t remember it at all. I''m only guessing that I''m about 13. I could be younger, I could be older. Who the fuck knows. "


    I could be smart and say ''your parents'', but that wouldn''t be very smart at all. This isn''t my space to speak nor do I want to.


    "You like my face right? Called it pretty and all the shit." Yuna mumbles, feeling a lot older than any 13 year old has any right to.


    I don''t sense a good story coming from this.


    "I don''t remember my birthday, but I remember my shitty parents and where I was born. Right in the middle of those mountains, where there are a hell lot more goats than people. But the view up there... prettiest sun and sky you''ll see anywhere. If you ride high enough in the summer you can see the peeks of green on one side. On the other, the sand deserts, now that''s a sea of gold."


    "It sounds pretty, it sounds beautiful."


    "I was sold."


    Oh well, that was a drop.


    "Pfffftt ahahaha your face, it''s like a damn fish ahahaha haa. See this is why you don''t go asking some questions princess doughnut. People around here have some shit answers! Haaa, if they can remember that is. If they take you too young, without anyone to remind you, you forget things like birthdays and stuff."


    The teen lifts my hand, my arm and it looks so tender and small grasped in his much darker hold.


    "Brat like Amar and me, with no birthdays to remember and no people to go back to, we''re the lucky ones. We got out from whatever sideshow took us so damn far away. We''re strong enough and somehow got someplace safe. Most kids out there can''t even dream this up, let alone live it."


    Yuna is truly very beautiful like that, soft sun and sad smiles. It''s just now that I understand how beauty is such a terribly sad thing.


    "I''m sorry."


    "Nothing for you to be sorry about princess. We were born this way. Nothing you can do about it."


    I am a princess. Not in name but to people like Yuna I might as well be.


    A born princess that never has to worry about money a day in my life. I eat honey cakes in the winter and fruit crepes in the summer. A princess with a birthday and odd but loving parents and even a crazy doting grandparent. A princess that lives in the metaphorical castle and knows nothing.


    That''s how they all see me huh?


    How hateful. It sounds far worse than a mere villainous. If I was in Yuna''s place I can''t say I wouldn''t see it too. Does Amar? How so very hateful, I hate this princess. I hate this sort of ignorantly cruel sort of girl.


    It really can''t be helped.


    This villainous princess is riding back home now.


    This winter will be an uneventful one in any story and yet, to me, it still looks beautiful in its soft moments. Very cold and sad, a little sweet and still very beautiful.

 86 Guess who?

    "Oh ho ho time out! A time out for us all! Darling? Papa?!"


    The madonna of our cold days, the sole lady of this fine house, oh how she blooms in a ravishing shade of miffed and annoyed. Even in the grips of winter, her beauty blossoms, more exquisite than any flower from the gardens of paradise. Perhaps even, tis the rosy petals and hues of such rage, such sincere passion, that make her so becoming. The eyes of a prized gazelle, the flesh of a summer white peach, hair a rich drizzle of sweet honey brown left in a thick scandalous half braid, only made barely appropriate by the opulent netting of fat gleaming pearls and bits of golden star dust.


    She is an impossibly beautiful woman with a handsomely shrill and demanding voice and thus essentially very impossible to ignore.


    Wow, I have got to stop reading the letters tied and stuffed in mother''s drawers. My own thought process is getting skewed here but for shame, this world lacks entertainment and I am a modern girl used to such luxuries. I must say though father is very good at sucking up if he has time to write it rather than bluntly speak. It''s so diabetic and vomit-inducing but oh so very effective on women kind.


    Right now though, there are no dip and drip feather pens, no time to carefully smooch up or think how to best pander to mother dearest. He is just stuck being a whipped husband and maybe a sore loser.


    Eh better than grampa, at least he has a wife.


    "Yes dear." says the whipped husband.


    "Awww...yes Maria?" bemoans the also whipped grandfather of the house.


    Today we''re all playing a game! A little family feud. What fun. Much more fun than discussing our supposed family trip back up to the capital in a month''s time, which is what they were supposed to be doing. Also much more fun than being locked up and doomed to count the embroidery count on mother''s dresses. For a house of as much wealth as mine, it is very high.


    The rules are simple. Lilyanne and I wear some matching clothes, which we sadly have much of, and all one has to do is tell correctly who is Lilyanne and who is, well, me. Every player must close their eyes, maybe spin a bit to disorientate themselves. The most crucial item is, of course, the baby bonnet, can''t have my short hair giving me away that easily.


    All good fun, part of the fun with twins. It''s just that grampa isn''t doing as good of a job as I would have thought? Is he just playing dumb or something?


    "What did we say about cheating papa?"


    "Why Maria! I would neeeever!"


    Like he''s at a party or something, grampa spiritedly throws his hands up in air and waves them like he just don''t care. That or to showcase his supposed innocence. See, absolutely nothing in his burly hands.


    Yeah right.


    "Papa! Threatening the girls behind my back is still cheating."


    "Why Maria! Threatening our itty bitty baby roly-polies? I would never!"


    "Oh Papa! I don''t know what you''re using but no more cheating! And Frederick darling? My sun my stars, my golden love I do adore. You cannot use gold to cheat!"


    "Maria, my starlight and moonshine in the endless dark night that we call life, I do obey every word that passes your fair lips, alas I haven''t the faintest on what you''re talking about."


    "Frederick darling, my love, I am yours to pocket in your palm till the oceans dry and the world dies, but do not think for a second I can''t tell you''re using those deep pocketfuls of coins to cheat. Our Rosalia breaks immediately when she sees money. Her eyes - see there, there! Look how they sparkle at the sight of coins! Why they''re as wide as a pie!"


    Shiiiiiney money gimmie, ahem. I mean, how rude!


    First priority is food. Second is money. Money is so terribly important as it is necessary to live, capiche? I admit though, that in the terms of this game having father use money to tell us apart is absolutely considered cheating. It''s just too easy to identify me, especially if he throws the money.


    Mother wins this round by default!


    "Yaya! Mama! Hehehe yaaaay! Mama fwound Lili!!!"


    "Oh yes my sweet, that I did! I found you and our Rosalia apart all without cheating. Hmm what a novel concept!"


    Father and grampa politely cough in their seats. They weren''t caught red-handed but they might as well have been with mother. I really do wish I could just say they were humoring her and losing on purpose but they actually seem to struggle with this game. A lot.


    The men of my family have been using all sorts of cheap tricks to get me to drop my Lilyanne act. Otherwise, they seem utterly lost on telling who is who?


    Of course, they''re not allowed to touch or get too close. No peeking of hair under baby bonnets, using Alfonso, tossing of coins and sweets to see who reacts, and certainly no lifting us both up and weighing us on each hand like a scale is allowed.


    That was very rude of grampa and I headbutted him in the eye when he loudly proclaimed he found the heavier toddler to be me. It''s true but you shouldn''t say it!


    "Alright then, the point goes to mother. Are we all ready for the next round?"


    It''s amusing even for those watching. Mother''s maids and the serving staff can''t help to react and get in on the fun. Though there is a very odd thing that occurs in this game.


    Right at the start, when Lilyanne and I tumble about and I get into character- everyone still looks absolutely shocked and or horrified. How rude. We''re identical twins you know? We''re supposed to look very much alike, even if it''s me, it''s not all that weird.


    I''m a little insulted to be honest. It''s as if no one believes I can be as cute and loveable as Lilyanne is even for a few minutes. If it''s for a little bit I can manage this much! Father may say my face is too expressive but I was a professional okay. Public face on!


    "Veee~ Rosa so funny! Hehee!"


    "Wee! I''m Lilli, Rosa so silwi~ Hehee!"


    "Mama Papa Gwampy! Me Lilli! Guessy!"


    "Guess guessy!"


    Ah there it is, the look of a stupified audience. They act as if they had all seen a great magician perform some mind-blowingly confusing stunts. When in reality it''s just me messing around acting my age.


    It''s funny but aaaah this act does get tiring on the cheeks. Too much intense happy smiling and delicate little adorable giggles. The act will fail if my face twitches but ow ow ow, how does Lilyanne maintain this face?


    It''s much harder to act airheaded than it looks. I really have to empty my mind and be conscious of what distracts me or not. Oh and I definitely can''t let my thoughts wander into anything such as my business, or troubles, or busy busy schedule where I just can''t get out of this darn mansion because I''m 3 and it''s winter shutdown time.


    Empty thoughts~ Lights are on, no one''s home. I''m so cute, Oh cheese, I like cheese. Lilli likes cheese.


    "Hehe cheesey"


    "Waaah cheesey"


    "Mama feed Lilli? Ahhh!"


    "Ah Ah mee too! Ahhh!"


    Double cuteness canon. The effects are devastating, everyone living soul in the parlor is wiped out. I think there is blood dripping from my parents'' mouths.


    Though in father''s case I don''t know if it''s from cuteness or something else judging from his suddenly pale face. This is adorable, how dare you look like you''ve just witnessed the jump scare from a horror movie!


    I can do it if I put my mind to it. Hmmpf! Goo goo ga ga, say I''m cute. Say it.


    I know I''m cute. I have Lilyanne''s face after all. A stronger core and a heavier body mass according to the grampa scale but for the most part we still have the same face.


    Now stop gawking and guess already everyone!


    "Hmmmm by not cheating at all, see Maria, I sense more killing intent from my grandchild on the left. That one is Rosalia!"


    "Papa! How can you judge from killing intent of all things! They''re mere babies."


    "Maria my baby girl, our Rosalia has already tasted fresh blood from her own kills!"


    "What!!!"


    "She''s very ravenous around raw fish."


    "Papa! You scared me? Oh thank goodness it was just fish."


    "My Chip does what now?"


    "Oh darling, my most beloved jewel on your red satin pedestal. It''s nothing. Nothing at all."


    "I beg your pardon, Maria my love my sweet, am I to understand that my child partakes in feasting on bloody raw flesh? And that of all the things that irks your ire, this is not one of them?"


    "Oh darling! It''s nothing like that! You know how papa gets, oh with his horrid training and all that. Boo hoo oh I feel faint from the memories. Boo hoo hoo, oh the days where there would be nothing to hunt or to eat. Or the times that it was far too dangerous to even light the smallest of flames for light. *sob sob*"


    "But Maria, as a child you loved ripping off and eating fresh-"


    *smack*


    "Oh boo hoo hoo!!!! Those tragic days, I can''t bear to recount. Oh don''t make me explain."


    "....of course dear."


    "Oh I knew it! Darling, you must be disgusted with me! Boo hoo hoo!"


    "My love, my divine inamorata, nothing could turn me off when it comes to you."


    *smack*


    And now both the menfolk in this family are down, a k.o. to the gut from mother. They truly do love humoring her. I understand father and his whipped state, but grampa is really playing it up. He acts as if her mild smacks of her handkerchief truly hurts.


    Hilarious. Like anything but a boss level magical beast or such a warrior could get through grampa''s thick overly powered muscles. It''s very stress-relieving though physically painful to smack at grampa and his physique.


    I think they''re getting distracted so the game is not over yet. Technically grampa guessed correctly but we haven''t verified it yet so the game continues.


    Nice empty thoughts, do not feel killing intent. None at all. Which is also really a rude way of saying it? I do not have killing intent? I may be your biological grandchild but I''m nowhere near as powerful and or violent.


    I just get a little passionate about some things, and this little body of mine can''t handle it in a calm mature manner all the time.


    "Heehee bweee grampy silly!"


    "Haahaa so silwi! Papa too! Mama win?"


    "Noooooo mama no guessy yet?"


    "Ohhh mama guessy, Mama gibe Lilli and Rosa kissis an nom nom cheesey?"


    "Noms noms noms! Lilli want kiss an noms!"


    "Oh very good dears, you almost had me there Rosalia! This one is my Rosa and this one is my Lily!"


    Ack! I was just playing a part but mother has really rushed up like a mad rugby player and is now crushing us in her too tight hugs. It doesn''t matter how soft her boobs are through the dress and chamice, it''s too much mass per square inch of space. Ow ow ow, ack not the kisses. I can''t breathe in this position!


    "Yay! Huggwi!"


    "Please....air....pleeeeeease."


    "How fun! I guessed right again!"


    She did, before murdering us by hugs she accurately pointed out who was who. Thus far mother as a 3/4 chance success rate even without cheating. That''s far better than everyone else.


    Oh my oxygen content, I feel my lungs burning and my brain dying. How does Lilyanne live like this?


    "How did you know this time?" I ask when mother finally gives me some room to breathe.


    In order to review my faults and improve my future performance. What''s the point of being born twins if I can''t pull a switcheroo trick here or there when it suits me?


    "Oh my darling eldest you don''t notice do you? You always refer to your sister before you. ''Lily an Rosa''. You put Lilyanne first, like a good big sister." smiles mother with a soft cheeks and more wet kisses.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Ewwww, but interesting. I hadn''t realized that little tic. Let''s work on acting practice and getting into the character''s headspace. I am Lilyanne, a real baby toddler. I am the protagonist, I am beautiful and loved and I don''t even know it. Of course, as Lily, I don''t think about myself from the 3rd person. More self-focus!


    There is an uncomfortable feeling in my chest that only seems to grow stronger in this short span of time. Mother''s hugs are really too terrifying. It must have bruised me somewhere, my lungs are obviously damaged and compromised.


    A bell delicately rings from the hands of our head butler, Alfoso. Who has been in an out watching the scene, like a dutiful housewife during a sport''s game on TV. It is a light sound but it has captured everyone''s attention. The servants who were peeking are gone, back to work in their places. The maids and such are in their rightful positions. Even father and grandfather come back to life with a jingle of this bell.


    It''s not magic or anything like that. It''s just that this particular sound means that we have guests, important ones most usually.


    Places everyone. We''re not just a noble house for show! Places!


    "Alfonso." my father waves, a rush of senior servants already tidying everything up, including his own appearances. In a blink his clothing is somehow neatly pressed, his hair combed and vexingly perfect, and the fake blood gone, as if it were never there.


    With a snap of his fingers, the senior servants readjust mother and grampa like the finest of stage ninjas. They don''t even need to do anything. Of course, father is the only one that seems right at home with getting served hand and foot automatically. Though grandpa is the patriarch of this family, father is the first to receive the treatment and be treated as the terribly fancy lord of the house.


    God damn rich people.


    Of course, I won''t make a fuss. I naturally allow Alfonso and a few assisting maids and footmen to fluff up my bow, fix my hair, and overall pamper me over to my throne of cushions. Feed me water, wash my face, change my bottom pillow, it''s flat. It''s amazing how I don''t even need to say anything, just the barest look in the right direction or a twitch of my eyebrow will do to get what I want.


    Mother and father''s personal chamber staff are truly on a whole different level. Perhaps it''s because they are so directly worked under Alfonso''s thumb?


    "Ahem, my Lords and Lady. The special door has been rung and the gue-"


    "GABE''S HERE!"


    Bye grampa, there he goes rushing out to the door ruining the lovely scene before Alfonso can even hey wait GABLE''S HERE?! No fair! Grampa get back here and take me with you!


    Oh never mind, I''ll just run out on my own. I''ll protect you from grampa Gable!


    "Oh no you don''t. Back. Back all of you! Down."


    With one hand mother has easily swooped me up. A few seconds later, the other arms is dragging back grampa by the back of his neck. Not his shirt, his neck, as if he were a bad dog.


    A beautiful woman with a harsh voice and an unexplainable fear-inducing aura is really hard to ignore. It''s very effective as a villainous, did Rosalia get some of that part from mother? Well, that''s a thought.


    "We shall be on our best behavior for Gable. No running, rushing or anything improper." she scolds.


    "Yes mother, we understand mother."


    "Of course Maria."


    Ah, grampa and I have been lumped together in scolding time. It''s like a little prison on this side of the couch.


    Father is no help at all during these times, he''s too whipped and usually in a worse position himself. On the other side of the room with Lilyanne, he seems perfectly content to bounce my giggling sister and stay out of the scolding zone.


    " - behave like civilized people and...OH GABEY DEAR!!! <3 Whatever are you standing there for, don''t be a stranger silly, do come in this instant!"


    Her words and actions do not match up for mother has simply sprinted into long elegant arms and a sturdy chest of the world''s most swoonable man. Woe and blessed is me, for there stands divinity- the personification of all that is well and good. Young movie stars playing hot fantasy elves can''t compare.


    Mother''s behavior is really not fair at all. I call foul-


    "Sssssshhhh Rosa, it''s never fair pumpkin but do not mention it in front of my girl. Shhhhhh, and no Gable won''t help. He always sides with our Maria, no matter what he says. Shhhhh." shushed grampa with absolute seriousness.


    "That''s no fair.... why are we whispering? I thought you didn''t even know how to whisper."


    "Ssshhhhhhhh."


    With each step that Gable takes closer into the room, it feels as if the fresh sprouts of a warm and beautiful spring follow. He''s doing a wonderful job turning mother from a gorgeous elegant belle of a prime noblewoman into a chattering little fangirl.


    "Oh Gabey I do miss you so, you hardly come by anymore. Oh I know you have so much work to be done, don''t let me keep you. I just do miss you so dearly. I fear I shall always be this way, missing you even when you''re here in my arms."


    Ahem, mother? A little discretion, please? A little less hypocrisy about behaving? Or at least give us a turn to jump in Gable''s arms. This is really so unfair it has grampa and I violently coughing.


    I make to give father a glare, for him to do something! But no, he''s like an obedient little boy toy at the mall, holding her purse as she shops or openly fawns over a much older man, or in this case, her child.


    I almost pity him. The nerd. He has no chance.


    Gable makes for a polite smile and comforting cheek nuzzle at my mother and the flames of rage and jealousy fire up. But like good little family dogs, we must obey and stay. Why are we so obedient to mother?


    "Good afternoon, it''s nice to see everyone again- except you Ron- Buttercup I hope I''m not intruding on your precious free time, but with your trip up north again there is work to be done. For everyone''s safety. Lilyanne and Rosalia especially."


    "Of course but oh my dear Gable, how dare you think for a mere moment you could ever be an intrusion! Take a seat, a sweet. Oh dear, Alfonso call for a fresh pot of herbal tea, the usual spread for Gabbey dearest."


    "As soon as possible my lady, our honorable sir Gable has brought us quite the gift and half the staff is still processing the items."


    "Oh Gabbey you shouldn''t have, whatever did you bring?"


    "A dozen culled and frozen hogs my lady, fine specimens. A marvel of marble and fat." responds Alfonso, quick as ever with the response and piping hot tea.


    "It''s nothing. I heard a troublesome ward of mine had wasted and destroyed some of your supplies. I apologize for him and the matter of the bacon."


    Ah yes Lukas and the great praline bacon craze. May we never forget the lessons learned from that disaster. But if it''s planning time to visit the stupid prince again that means playtime is over. How tiring.


    At my sigh, father speaks up, finally.


    "Thank you for coming Gable, however, I believe it''s about time for the girls'' afternoon nap. Alfonso if you could be so kind."


    Wait no that''s not the kind of speaking up I meant. No no nooooooo I want to stay and bask with Gable! I''m not even sleepy! Nooooooooooo.


    However my cries, no matter how Lilyanne levels of cute I made them, had absolutely no effect. My sister and I were whisked off with nothing more than a round of smiles and a last lingering look. Playtime over for real.


    I pout the whole way as we''re carried off, if I could stomp my feet I would. I pout and fume so much that I don''t even notice when Lilyanne fell asleep in Alfonso''s arms.


    "Now then, off to bed for our young miss Lilyanne," he instructs, handing her a small band of senior maids.


    Just Lilyanne? Not me? Well, that saves me some efforts sneaking out.


    Rather than question it I just silently wait as Alfonso seems to speedily glide out the to his next destination, a loading and underground storage area outside the kitchen. Earlier he had stated that Gable gifted us a dozen frozen hogs to make up for the bacon deficit. He did not lie but I believe he failed to mention that not only were these hogs huge but they....have...wings.


    I am never going to get used to this world, am I?


    "Are we here to inspect the bacon, Alfonso?"


    "If you so wish young miss Rosalia. However, the next wagon leaves with half of the shipment in 18 minutes. Young Georgie is tasked with escorting you if you so wish, with him are a change of clothes for you, and one-"


    "HI ROSALIA look at all the BACON!!! AND WINGS? Did you know bacon wings are so good?!! Are you goin NORTH soon?! NO FAIR! AMAR is leaving too and that''s lame that you''re both going somewhere awesome and being super and Gable won''t let me go anywhere! SO i''m HERE WITH BACON WINGS but we gotta go find Amar now! Like right now while Gable still lets me!!!"


    "-And one small friend of yours."


    I cannot see him but I can hear Lukas just fine from whatever distance he is away. In fact, everyone can. Let''s just....never put this kid on any spying or such subtle missions.


    "Thank you Alfonso....excellent work."


    "It is my pleasure young miss Rosalia. Now here are your snacks for the ride, and snacks to share, and additional snacks for over there. Barbara and the others have assembled a tester basket for your other companion, who they are fond of, as we should no longer afford to waste spices on smoke calls this season."


    "Yes...thank you."


    "A pleasure to serve as always. Now, the wagon awaits."


    This is truly a very strange world, a strange house with some very strange maybe very scary people. It is a wonder how Rosalia missed it all a lifetime ago. In these little three start-up years, I have already been exposed to so much.


    There are the world''s grossest parents, who for some strange reason, look less displeasing to me by day. There is a mysterious butler, a nagging jr. chef, a picked-up anxious maid and all of the strangest of employees here in this family''s kitchens. There are innocent little henchmen in training, ones that I have hurt before. Must have hurt by virtue of being me, a villainous hateful young miss who knows little of the real world here. There is an army guild of some of the wisest and mightiest warriors who talk to me as if I were a pet, a child, or even one of them.


    There are those who can only be young and crazy, they still seek me out and probably think of me as a friend, despite all my numerous faults.


    I''m not a fool to believe I''ve really changed my bad end fate yet. Nor will I get lax over my preparations. It''s just that the butterfly effects already going on around me leave me dizzy.


    Who are all these people? What are these moments? I don''t know what to make of them and the more I think about it the more confused I get.


    The neglect, the abuse, it is all yet to come but already so much has changed. Somehow it''s not just me that''s changed? My initial goals of saving myself have expanded little by little until it''s no longer so little.


    It scares me, I think. It scares me more to care when I have to leave one day.


    But it''s not springtime just yet. I''m still nothing but a child. This is the part where nothing interesting happens and we must wait to grow up.


    So I put my fears and worries away for another day. There''s still time left for me to play.

 88 Aftertaste

    It hurts.


    Ah, it really hurts-


    This feeling of sickness, this consumption. All of me has been digested and dissolved down into a stinging mess, there is nothing worthwhile left. Hasn''t been for a long time now, if there ever was anything at all. I''m a shell of numbness, a thin shell filled with fleshy liquid pain. I can''t do a thing about it. I can''t even bring myself to move.


    What''s the point?


    What''s the point if I move? All it does is hurt. It''s not worth it. As time and time goes on I increasingly feel that nothing is worth it at all. It''s just me here.


    Just me. Just like I wanted.


    So what if I die like this?


    It hurts a lot though. I dislike discomfort in any form. I can take a lot, time and time again I''ve proved I can take a fuck ton. I don''t want to though. No one is born wanting to suffer.


    It''s lonely.


    My lips burn as I try moving them, there''s not even a drop to wet them. Bile has crusted and it''s all I can smell, all I can taste.


    Disgusting. All of me is so disgusting.


    It hurts and I''m too dazed and numb to do anything about it. Cottonmouth and cotton stuffed head, I''m weighed down with something a lot heavier than lead. But it''s just me, all me.


    It''s cold.


    Really really cold. If I try I could probably come up with something better to describe the chill that grips me. It''s not worth it though. It''s not worth it to shiver so violently either but I can''t really control what my body wants to do. Is this it then? Do I just die like this?


    Alone. In pain and all alone.


    My guts are rolling but it''s more uncomfortable than anything, being as numbed as I am. At least I''m not on the toilet. Now that''s a bad place to die.


    I''m being dramatic again but it''s a long time a-coming. I can''t say I don''t mind it but, I''m not surprised. If I die like this. This much is within range of my expectations.


    Will anyone miss me? Other than my project manager of course, ahaha....How long till they notice? Who would even notice?


    Dad....finally has another life now...finally. I hope his new family can do what we couldn''t, can make him happy. How freeing. So this is peace? What a great weight off my shoulders.


    Mom? She must still be so angry with me... it''s been years but....ah and she''s so busy with Hengfei...he''s at that age now huh? That''s good... How long has it since I visited?


    I should at least see him...at least Hengfei....at least him.


    I''m always too busy nowadays. Busy paying the bills. But there''s a good amount saved up now right? A good bit...


    It''s good now right? No one needs me anymore. I want to say how nice, that I can finally be free now. But that''s not true...they''ll miss the money I send them.


    It''s wet.


    My own face is wet, I blearily notice. Am I crying? I still have the strength to cry? How funny. It doesn''t hurt all that much so why am I crying? I''ve been through worse. Come on girl, stop being such a little bitch and stop crying.


    You don''t have any reason to cry. You''re fine. You''re more than fine.


    It''s lonely.


    I''m really weak. Still really weak huh? At a time like this, where I can''t even bother to get myself up or even do anything, I have the gaul to cry. Over what? Being lonely? Being alone? I wanted to be left alone, finally. This is all I ever asked for.


    So selfish. I haven''t learned my lessons at all. What a stupid girl I am.


    It really is cold...it really hurts...


    There''s not much I can do like this except curl into myself even further. Smaller and smaller into a bitter ball of nothingness. Maybe if I''m lucky, I''ll disappear. Then everything will be gone, the cold , all the strange little aches and pains. All of it.


    Like a magic trick.


    How wonderful would it be if something like magic could exist? Could make it all disappear? All of me is a fuzzy static, sand and lead, the lines blurring. If it''s like this can I go away? Can I use magic and make myself disappear, somewhere far away? Where no one knows me, not even myself.


    How silly, it''s like I''m a child again. Back when it was all so much simpler.


    Then...like a child...I''ll play a trick....a magic trick...


    1...2... 3...


    *knock knock knock*


    That''s...not right?


    The knocking increases with a fever, echoing clearly in the darkness. With my head like this, I can''t even tell where the sound is coming from. There''s a door here...


    More importantly, who would be knocking?


    "MengMeng? Are you home?! It''s me! Mengy? Shit, I can hear your phone in there. Meng are you ok?!!!"


    Phone? So that''s what the ringing was? It''s not just my head...oh funny. Did I try to get up? Because that hurts even more. Not inside, but outside? Ow my head. It''s a different kind of hurt, not so bad really. I''ve been through worse. I''m such a wimp to be hurt by that.


    Ah I''m tired...the floor is cold.


    "Meng! Shit shit shit, fuck it."


    There is a concerning sound besides my own head. Of crashing and rummaging, maybe walls breaking. How funny. Was my breathing always so loud?


    Then god said, let there be light. Blinding painful light, ow ow ow does it hurt. Eyes shut now, eyes shut forever. No light please, I can''t take it.


    "Meng! Holy shit how long have you been like that!? Fuck you''re burning up!?"


    How fun. I''m flying, up and dangling into the air. I must be.


    It''s loud now. Everything is in a state of dazed and confused. I feel like a child''s plaything swung around here and there. How funny.


    I must be a very loved toy, I think? The hold is ever so tight. Gentle enough it doesn''t hurt at all, but really really tight. Slowly my senses awaken with the fresh but comforting scent and the sensation of floating. I can begin to tell that it''s actually not a giant child''s hand that holds me like a toy doll. Rather they''re arms. Warm arms. Strong arms.


    Put me down, I''m heavy right?


    "You''re not heavy at all, aish...How did you let it get this bad? Why didn''t you call me earlier?"


    I''m dropped on something firmly soft. Ahahaha what a contradiction? Is it a cloud? Is it my couch? Who knows.


    Something fluffy is wrapped around me and it''s warm. Something cool and refreshing squirms around my face. It''s not longer refreshing when it''s up at my teeth, clanking them.


    "When was the last time you ate? Or drank anything. Water now, it''s good for you."


    "...no."


    "Mengmeng?"


    "...don''t wanna...hurts."


    "Ahhh you''re so damn sick, I want to laugh but I can''t because you worry me too fucking much. Please Meng? Drink up? For me? Pretty please?"


    "...annoying."


    Drops in a drought. Then a flood. My heart is only so large. I can''t hold so much, not like other people. Forgive me, I can''t take it. I''ll overflow. Then what will I do with the mess left?


    "Good girl! A little more? Come on? I''ll make you food and we can get some medicine in you."


    "....brat."


    When I blink the world hurts a little bit less to look at. Smiling crescent moon eyes beam right at me and I take that back, it''s still too bright. Ow ow ow.


    "You did take medicine right?"


    Medicine? There''s no need for medicine....I don''t need that?


    "...I''m fine."


    "You..." he sighs, "are a very troublesome girl. I figured when you weren''t responding to my calls or texts....at all. Or anyone''s."


    "I''m...not sick. Just..some...food poisoning. Yeah. Bad food poisoning....I''m gross right now, but fine."


    "You have a fever."


    "....food poisoning. Bad night....Niles too...John? Quang? Definitely Niles. No more all you can eat wings for me."


    "Mengmeng, that was two nights ago. Everyone is fine, even Niles. You''re sick now."


    "Oh fucky...did I miss work? Bossman gonna have me shaken not stirred."


    The tall boy takes a deep breath, hands pressed together as if in prayer and asking some god for strength for whatever reasons. Which now sets off my balance because those very nice hands were the only things keeping me sitting straight.


    Ah but pillows, good pillows. Nice soft pillows. Huh did I own that plushie? Very cute.


    "One...I beg of you never to say that again ever but especially if we''re talking about my brother. Any of them. Two, you don''t technically work for him anymore but you probably did miss work today. Your project manager called the bar because he couldn''t reach you. It''s Friday."


    "Oh....poop."


    "Why are you still so fucking cute like this?"


    "...Because I''m cute."


    "Right right, Mengmeng is the cutest, even when you''re stupid sick and absolutely running a fever. Can you stay nice and cute right here as I clean up and put things away? My mom made lots of your favorite kimchi and all sorts of banchan to spare for you."


    "...yummy. Wait...you shitty brat...don''t talk to me like I''m 5..."


    "Ah Meng, don''t get mad! You''ll fa... aaaand back up on the couch we go. Up up. Here''s your blanket, and take this plushie? Good hold that, now sit still. Do you want music? Netflix? The Office ...again? You''re really funny you know, don''t you get enough of it at work? Do you want a Ghibli movie? Yes? Should I make you some soup?"


    Nod no nod yes, no yes, nod no, nod yes again I don''t know. But this is nice, I''m fluffy and warm. My tummy rolls in many types of pain but the thought of actual food brought to me makes it brighten up.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "...Curry rice."


    "No."


    "Curry rice with soft egg."


    "Absolutely not. You eat too much of that. Don''t think I don''t see your trash can overflowing with curry boxes."


    "....But...you make it the best."


    *crash*


    I''m sick and dying supposedly but now it looks like someone else is actually dying. Why are you on the floor? Is there any need to be dramatically clutching your chest like that? It''s not like anyone shot you. Get up and feed me food you fool. Preferably curry rice.


    He collapses close enough that I can take my foot out of the fluffy blankets to poke at. But there I go again, either from my own messed up sense of balance or from the playful evil hand that has yanked my vulnerable ankle.


    Noooooo it''s cold.


    Long fingers tickle as they slide up my bare leg, his breath feels hot against my sensitive skin... That''s it. It must be the sudden exposure to the cold air that makes me shiver even worse.


    "Didn''t I say be good? You can''t attack a guy like that, I''ll think you''re seducing me?"


    That deserves a kick in the face.


    I feel weak but the damn joker''s defenses are even weaker so smack smack, take that. Geez, I''m honestly concerned about this kid. Sometimes I swear he''s asking for it.


    Have you been watching too many Korean dramas with your mom and brother again? Those sorts of lines are really bad and cheesy in real life you know. There''s a reason the bossman is still single as a dog. One day you''ll really be assaulted by the girl you like using those kinds of lines on her, so as an elder I have to kick some sense into you.


    Shouldn''t your sisters have taught you this, instead of me?


    "Will this much prettier sister be good and stop cutely stepping on me if I give you banana milk? You''re sick and my heart can''t take it."


    "Dork. ...Make it a coffee milk."


    "Your tummy is weak right now? Banana now and coffee in the fridge?"


    "You brought me both?"


    "Mmm! Yep, the whole packs, and my mom''s stews. 2nd bro gave me the ok to take off tonight and check in on you."


    "Aiya, when did you get so smart and handsome?! Very good, our Jung-Joon has grown up so well. Banana milk it is!"


    "I''ve always been smart and very handsome? Why do you only admit it when I give you food, sweets or alcohol?" he sighs again, looking like an adorable PG version of a bartender when he stabs the little straw in my flavored milk box.


    I try to grab the chilled offering with all the strength I can muster but everything is off. The world is still spinning. The world is nothing but my messy apartment and an overgrown banana of a youthful college kid waving my beloved sugary drink in front of me. I don''t know if it makes him look more hateful or good looking.


    Even sideways I can tell he''s teasing me, getting up close to smack a peck to my cheek. How cheeky, literally.


    "Medicine first Mengmeng. Say ah."


    "I hate you."


    "Ahhhh."


    "...fiiiine, ahhhhh."


    "Good girl. Drink it down."


    I can''t yell at him for treating me like an infant because it''s banana milk time after the hard to swallow pills. How perfect, this is the best medicine of all. I should give him a lesson about humility and a lot of things but banana milk is too delicious. I''m alive again. I''ll let it all go with the addictive magic of banana milk.


    "Mmmm....acceptable."


    With another indulgent smile, my pillows are fluffed and my blankets are rewrapped before he heads off to put away whatever it was he brought. More banana and coffee milk I presume.


    All too soon I''m sipping at the bottom of the box. My throat feels much better now.


    A lot of me does.


    My guts are still rolling and I can''t really tell my fingers from my toes. I''m sick, I''m still very much sick as we have established.


    But it''s not that cold anymore...


    ...I really am pathetic. Getting like this at my age, getting so bad that I drag an innocent kid from his Friday night because of the trouble I make. Jung-joon and his family have always been taking care of me in ways they didn''t have to. All this time.


    When did that happen?


    When will I grow up? When can I let go?


    "Sorry."


    A sweet humm of confirmation comes from across the room, behind me where I can''t see.


    "I''m sorry....I''m fine now. I''ll take better care of myself...."


    "Will you now? That''s good."


    "I''m fine... you don''t have to do this. I took medicine now. You can go. It''s the weekend right?"


    Laughing bells ring, light and charming if not for their mocking tone. How evil, I was being considerate and here this shit is laughing behind my back. Fine, get enslaved by me. Clean my messes and make me dinner. No life for you.


    Ah but I really must be sick. I truly realize that I do have a fever because I can now feel the intense heat on my face and head.


    "You''re right, it''s the weekend." the voice sing songs, and I want to fall asleep to the melody.


    I fall over again on the couch, but it''s fine. It''s nice like this. How odd...what was all the fuss and pain from before? I really am such a dramatic soul.


    It''s really nice like this.


    The artificial glow of lights is eclipsed by a comforting night like shadow. When I tiredly blink up, far more tired than I recall, it''s just Jung-Joon, a sole person and not say the full moon or some poetic shit like that. Not the moon at all. That''s just silly.


    If it''s just him then I can afford a little rest right? A little more sleep? That''s all I need, then I''m fine again. I must have pulled too much overtime again, that''s how I got sick. Is it the medication making me so sleepy? How silly of me.


    Then, just a little.


    "Meng? Are you asleep?"


    What does it look like? I want to snap as I usually do but I''m too comfortable like this. His soothing tone of voice doesn''t really disrupt me, rather lulling me further into my blankets.


    "Meng...I''m going to throw away all your instant box curry because that stuff is terrible and I can just make curry anytime you want. Is that ok?"


    "...."


    "Meng....I kinda broke your door but it''s all good if I just fix it again, right? Should I stay over again just to be safe? You really do need to move out to a better place, the money isn''t that much of a difference?"


    "....."


    "Meng....I''m going to take that as a sign to do whatever I want~ Are you okay with that?"


    Sure. Do whatever you want. Silly kid. This pillow is really good, ahh.


    "Meng....At the end of the day, all I want is to marry you so we can do the little stuff together. Even when you''re feeling bad or unwell, all of it. We can cook together. Dance around our home, do our skincare routine, play music, laugh, bake and be just happy together. That''s all I want, it doesn''t need to be like a movie. I just want to spend the rest of all my little moments with you. Maybe forever. Definitely forever."


    Sleepy


    "But you''re asleep again and you can''t hear me, even if you weren''t you still can''t hear me."


    It''s like a lullaby. Drifting me deeper into a sweet dream.


    "You- take responsibility. That or give me a proper rejection already. It''s been over 10 years by now- actually 11 years, 4 months and 28 days. Say no to me for real....that or stop being so pretty! Ah both aren''t possible....I''m stuck like this, right noona? I can''t even move because you''re asleep."


    A ridiculously sweet dream.


    "I can''t move. You sleep so peacefully and I can''t move from you at all. "


    "....Jung...Joon....don''t..."


    "*sigh* Even when sleeping you talk out loud? So troublesome. "


    "....don''t... leave me...too..."


    "Fine, you win, you win again. I won''t ever move, I won''t leave. I can''t. So sleep well where I can see you, ok?"


    ---------


    ------


    ----


    -


    ----


    ------


    ---------


    Breathing hurts.


    It''s disorienting, not knowing where I am, or who I am.


    Really...who am I?


    How many people are there inside my head? What makes a person? A soul?


    From the tiny little hands in front of me and the blood that soaks my small front, I would say I''m not that adult living in a peaceful and convenient society. The kind where non-poisoned curry comes in a box and familiar confusing bartenders bring me fun flavored milk. This isn''t that world at all and I am no longer that person.


    I died.


    I disappeared, just like I once wanted. I''ve gone somewhere far away, to a world filled with magic and even more troubles than the ones I left behind. The world I left behind.


    What a terribly nostalgic dream. I heard that time and age makes everything look hazy, as if it was so much more beautiful in the past. Then that would explain it. Why that dream was so sweet.


    But it has nothing to do with me anymore. I am no longer that person. I don''t carry her weight anymore. I can''t see anyone anymore.


    We no longer exist in the same world.


    Tears burn my static face as I stare up at the dark cramped ceiling. It takes me a blearily long time to recognize my surroundings, seeing as how I can barely move. Wood and hay, a provincial and filthy place.


    This isn''t my apartment with its running water and wifi connection. Banana and coffee don''t even exist let alone the crack like milk boxes.


    How terribly sad. That sweet taste doesn''t exist in this world.


    I smack my lips at the residual blood. Slowly I feel myself come to, regaining bits and pieces of myself and my senses. A twitch of the fingers, of the toes.


    I can move again.


    The room is dark but white daylight finds its ways in here and there. If I turn my head far enough, a mirror image of another blood and vomit drenched child breathes on a ratty cot. Lukas. Thank god he''s breathing.


    That''s right. This is a fairy tale world where magic exists and I''m filthy stinking rich.


    Little boys can make it snow and little girls can heal with nothing but their glowing hands. I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella, I am three years old and I am the villainous character in this story.


    We poisoned ourselves and are now trapped in the creepy suspicious facility in some seedy corner of the camps. A place that keeps a small kid hostage as a guinea pig, for real. These aren''t the jokes we make in my family kitchens. This isn''t smelling for burnt soup or how much pepper is needed in whatever.


    This. What poisoned us, what forced Amar to break down into an actual child his age, into sheer tears. This is abhorrent.


    They''re making him eat the poison.


    It''s long term, it must be. Training my ass. Lukas said he had to sniff things out? They''re making him eat the things. Like a true lab rat. Vincent...Vincent said he went through something similar. Weak, scrawny and oh so isolated Vincent. It all makes sense.


    It''s why an active kid like Amar stays so skinny despite everything we give to him. It''s why he has a habit of hiding away snacks like a squirrel saving for winter. Why he''s so secretive and seemingly immune to obvious abuse. Why he doesn''t react to pain or stress, any kind of pain, like a normal kid.


    How do you top abuse like getting force-fed poison day in and day out?


    Shit. The signs were all there.


    I force myself to breathe, to calm myself down. Getting agitated now would do no good, as I recall I was just most like lethally poisoned. My breathing of all things stopped for god''s sake.


    What was even in that curry? What a fast acting agent. How terrifying. If that or something was used in an assassination the target may be dead before help could even arrive.


    There''s a lot I don''t know about this world. The local wildlife, the magical injections that twist things out of my common knowledge, practically whatever was not served to Rosalia on a silver and gold platter. Too much I don''t know about and it pisses me off. Could the previous me even be called a worthy villainous when she was so damn blind to the workings of this world?! She didn''t even know the troops had such a research facility!


    In my anger, I force it all still.


    You can''t think clearly with rage blinding you. That was another fault the original goods to this body had, blinding red rage. When she loses control there it goes. But anger isn''t a bad trait to have, on the contrary. One has to condense it, focus it and sharpen it into the deadliest sort of weapon.


    Empty thoughts.


    Check my surroundings. Figure out what I can do for now. What is my best course of action? What is even the state of my body?


    I can move but not well, though I can force myself up my legs are truly numb. Putting any pressure on it shoots a thousand piercing needles right through the nerves. There''s no way I can stand, let alone run.


    They can''t kill me here. I''m a Ventrella. Whatever messed up shit is going on here, they can''t kill me in my grandfather''s own territory. There''s also no need to.


    What happened here was an oversight.


    Two uninvolved children stupidly ate some poison. They stumbled into a lab and touched things they shouldn''t have, thus hurting themselves. I''m fine. Lukas is...unconscious, but fine in terms of the repercussions.


    It''s Amar that''s in danger.


    He knew just what to do after we consumed the curry. The most exceptional thing, however, was the blood.


    We drank his blood, right from his slit veins. How messed up is that?


    I may not know all that much about this world''s poison standards outside of the approved alchemy lessons, which was honestly just a type of chemistry and brewing, but blood of a child is usually not on the list of cures. For anything.


    Somehow of all the things, Amar could have done after literally wrecking our stomachs and digestive tracks, he chose to knife himself up and feed us his own blood. As if that would make it all better.


    I''m getting a headache just thinking about it.


    In the utter silence of the space, I can hear some mumbled voices. There are people out there, on the other side of that door. One of them sounds like Vincent, strained and distressed but still very much Vincent.


    I can''t move my legs.


    The cot is already on the floor so it''s not a hard or noisy fall. But it hurts, it hurts even to crawl. My arms work fine but not my legs, every drag of pressure feels like I''m sliding across a floor of broken glass.


    It hurts so damn much, everything hurts and I can''t move my own legs.


    Without my permission, acid hot tears continue to run through me. I bite my lip to not make a peep, not a single sound. It hurts so much more than this little body hurts.


    I can''t move my own legs.


    Don''t leave.


    Don''t leave me?


    What kind of god damn nightmare of a dream was that? What was that sick sad fantasy disguised as a memory? My desperate little brain even added in such a touching confession at the end. Don''t be stupid Rosa girl.


    Everyone leaves eventually. Everyone leaves. Even I left.


    I left him.


    I left everyone.


    "You want to leave?! Fine! Leave and don''t come back you ungrateful slut! How dare you try to break us up!"


    "Mom..."


    *slap*


    It stings. I deserve it.


    "You think you''re so good now?! You think just because you make a little bit of money you can order us around after you run away like that! You''re just like your ba''! Money money money! I gave birth to you! I raised you and saved you from that bastard and this is what I get?!"


    "Mom. Don''t be like this. We can''t...we can''t keep living like this. You can''t keep doing this to Hengfei."


    *slap*


    "Don''t call me your mother when you show no piety! I have a son! I don''t need you or your ba'' I don''t need any of you!"


    "Mom, please. I''m doing it for Hengfei and you. Money and jobs don''t just come falling out the sky, I need to go out and work! It''s not a fantasy! You don''t just become a filthy rich doctor with some good grades!"


    "You too stupid!! You don''t work hard enough to make it! You''re just like your ba'', a failure!"


    "I know more than you! You can''t give him the care he needs! You can''t ruin us you can''t ruin Hengfei like this!"


    "If I knew back then how you would turn out I would have let that bastard sell you! That was good money! I should have just let him! This slut! This all never would have happened if we had just let him have you!!"


    "...."


    "Where did I go wrong? Aiya, where did I go wrong, why did I marry such a useless man and have such ahhhhhh my children ahhhhh ahhhh they''re all wrong and broken. Why?! Whhat sin did I commit in the last life?!"


    "Mom."


    "Don''t call me that if you can''t be here! If you can''t be my good child!"


    "Mama! Meng is back?!"


    "Hengfei!"


    A boy''s voice breaks through the women. In their sudden silence, the squeaking of wheels is all the more obvious. He sounds healthy, youthful, and so innocently concerned. The wheels squeak particularly loud at the rusted breaks of his chair.


    He can''t walk.


    I left him too. I of all people left him.


    Shit shit shit why now! Why are my memories hitting me all now!?!


    I had to leave! I''m not our dad! I had to leave. I had to leave for me, for money, for the bills. To find a better hospital. To get better him treatment. To get away from mom because I can''t I can''t I just can''t... It''s not that I didn''t care?! I cared too much and that was the problem!


    I couldn''t take care of Hengfei that way and then who would? Who? Everyone leaves! That''s how life works okay?!


    Everyone leaves.


    Now I''ve left for good.


    If only my legs were dead weight. If only they were just that. They burn and sting because the nerves are still alive. I can still heal. In this magical world, you can heal practically anything.


    How convenient. How miraculous and tragic.


    The skin to my lip breaks because I can taste fresh blood once again. My blood is metallic, not sweet, and I reach the wooden door with a small thump. Like a convenient medieval fantasy, it''s not solid at all. The cracks between peeling wood panels provide me with more than enough holes to see through.


    I silence myself by swallowing.


    There are more pressing matters than dealing with some old aftertastes, bitter but gone. That me is gone. It''s just....what I wouldn''t give for some coffee milk or something right now.


    No overgrown sweet-talking brat to break down doors and save me now. I should forget about it, for my own good.


    "What a waste! So much wasted blood" cries a strange woman.


    Even from the floor, I can see that she is beautiful. Fashionably pinned up hair, heavy velvet and fur-trimmed dress, and nails that click and clack a shocking length of dark red. She whimpers like a child to the man in the hood, who has his back faced towards me.


    On the side of the room, Vincent twitches but otherwise remains perfectly still. Perfectly seated in front of his master.


    "Oh how could you let this happen!? What a waste! I was so looking forward to my next bath!"


    "Dear sister, how many times do I have to tell you that bathing even in diluted blood does nothing to turn back the clock of time. What you''re experiencing is a deficiency of a substance called iron, which womenkind go through when they reach that age."


    "How dare you insult a lady! And it works, I can verify it! All your poison blood does phenomenal works. Why that''s why I can so easily keep the edge on that dreaded duchess over yonder! I hear she goes about draining young peasant women. "


    "How droll. Yet you''re wasting precious samples. On baths."


    "Different concerns. My research is the kind that sells."


    "Yes. The high price that women pay for the illusion of beauty. How monumental."


    "It''s what funds the fun! Oh, don''t you agree Vincent dear!"


    "...Yes Madam Damia."


    It is only then that Vincent speaks. It is only then that I notice the shock of pale and exposed flesh, his arm hooked up to a strange contraption with pumps and glass.


    They''re taking his blood.


    I don''t have time to be surprised. Not that I am. It was kind of obvious with the whole bleeding thing earlier. But where is Amar?


    "You''ll have your potion to cure all poisons one day. We''re getting oh so close with that boy. Do let me have him when your done, I just can''t wait."


    "I will not ''let you have'' such a rare subject all because of your petty grudge."


    "Oh what? Darius! You wound me! To bring up such old drama, why I''m above that. It''s not just about that bitch. He really does have such beautiful eyes! What jewels they would make! It would look so wonderful in his mother''s necklace! So satisfying!"


    "Nor your vanity Damia."


    The necklace sits heavy on her fair neck. Layers and layers of sparkling gems in intricate chains and foreign shapes. The strange and absolutely mad sounding woman plays with a single fat teardrop gem the purposeful gap between the throat and neckline. As if she were really considering replacing it with someone''s eye.


    "Just one?"


    The hooded master loses his patience, slamming his work on the table, glassware clattering and violet webs spreading. The woman shrieks as if touched by something awful and I don''t miss how Vincent flinches.


    "A single vial of that child''s blood can cure half of the poisons currently known to man, magical or not. Given a few more years of careful work and it could be all of them, even the ones unknown! Where else do I find a specimen like that? Where else can you find me a living body like that! Even Vincent here isn''t immune to so much and he''s my best work!"


    "Oh don''t be such a bore. That devil has a harem, it''s not that impossible to find another one of his seeds."


    "Very well then sister dear, do cross the mountain and bring me back one of his horridly guarded offspring, who aren''t DEAD! Just try it. If you somehow manage to not get yourself horribly killed or worse, see if you can refrain from gouging their eyes before making it back over here "


    "Oh fine fine, I''ll stop asking you for his eye, let me go, this is bad for my skin!"


    "It''s not a joking matter Damia. He''s only seen at most 6 winters. Give me enough time and I''ll perfect the serum yet with his blood and body as the key."


    "Yes yes, I heard it all before. That''s what you said with Vincent years back. Oh don''t feel bad Vincent dearie, I still like your blood. It''s so very good a base in many a potion. So very good for a lady''s skin."


    Vincent stays silent, the best thing to do. What we learn is the best thing to do to stay safe.


    I''m going to be sick.


    I know I was just sick but listening to all this wrecks me in whole new ways. Human experimentation honestly isn''t too surprising given the general course of history. Seeing it in person, however, is awfulness I can''t even begin to describe.


    It feels familiar.


    Like a self-centered little girl, I can''t shake the creeping guilt that entangles much like those webs.


    I do that.


    I make Amar smell and eat stuff for me.


    I make Vincent and all these people try out my skin or whatnot vanity experiments. Not to this .... a vicious extent but...I do that. And those kids just take it. Like they''re taking this.


    Vincent sits so still, so resigned. As if he were a mannequin than a living person. The dead look in his eyes doesn''t come from his magic, I know that now.


    Blood, they''re using blood in potions. Living human blood from methodically poisoned children. What type of sick world is this that lives in the shaded alleys on my own supposed home territory?!


    What goes into potions?


    I have some intermediate knowledge yes, I can make this or that here or there even without the aid of magic. But really, who knows what goes into a potion. There''s no real regulation? Or a check for human blood of all things?! Do we all just really think it was just some magic mushroom soup and a bit of pixie dust in a bottle? How do we know?


    The potions that I''ve used in my previous life. The ones I''ve taken for my own beauty or whatever reason. Was it made from the blood of kids like Vincent? Was it made out of Vincent? Amar?


    I''m going to be so so sick.


    "Have you finished your task boy?"


    From the shadows drop a mummy. Bandages wrapped around skinny arms, too stark too pale. Amar looks too pale in this light, tired and far smaller than Vincent. Washed out and rung, diluted from his usual toffee and caramels.


    "Yes sir Darius. Lord Geoff has been informed and your planted medics are on their way. "


    "The story."


    "You saved them. An accident. It was all an accident. We were playing and bad things happened because of me. Because I didn''t finish my training."


    "That''s right Amar. It is all because of you."


    Steps that seem to glide around the small boy, the billowing dark cape helping with the illusion of swallowing him entirely. A gloved hand reaches out to graze the mere bandages on Amar''s arms, before tilting his little head up. This is the part where the cartoon villain breaks out into song. It''s just that bad.


    "And it''s all because of you that they''re alive. See what good you can do? That your body can provide? Like those children, I can save so many more lives in the future. All thanks to your blood."


    "Yes sir Darius." comes Amar''s well-trained reply.


    It sounds wrong in a voice so childish and young.


    "Did you drink anything?"


    "No sir Darius."


    "Healing potions. Of any kind?"


    "No sir Darius."


    "Damia!"


    He drops the finger and thus Amar''s limp little head.


    The woman taps at the machine hooked to Vincent''s flesh impatiently with her too long nails. She rolls her eyes at the call of her name.


    "Don''t look at me, I didn''t give him any. I would but noooooo you''re so horridly strict on the quality control."


    "Quality over quantity sister dear. The body must process the poison to become immune. If you heal them, what''s the point of training them? I''m making them strong, better, especially you Amar. Your blood was made for this."


    "Yes sir Darius."


    Monotone, every answer from Amar is monotone. The tears and terror from earlier have all dried up He acts like a puppet with its strings cut. Eyes blank and face like the dead.


    It''s wrong. It feels so wrong.


    "Clean up those unruly children before they arrive but not too much. No one needs to get the wrong idea. Vincent is still preoccupied, you should thank him for taking your place today. After you wasted all that precious ingredient of yours. But I suppose some panic was understandable. One of them is the Commander''s grandchild. "


    "The Lord Commander''s?! She''s here!" gasps the horrifyingly beautiful woman.


    The more I look at her the more ''off'' she feels to me. A little like someone who had a tad too much plastic surgery, it looks unnatural.


    "Wrong one, it''s only the elder one." droned the hood.


    "Oh well, I could still try out some of that Ventrella blood?"


    His eyes are hidden in shadow but from her reaction, it''s such a disapproving look that the creepy woman makes a motion of peace. Officially giving up her initial desire to stab and sample my blood with only mild reluctance.


    How reassuring.


    "Go on now Amar. You have permissions, oh but....given this situation, it appears you will no longer be able to go on your little hunting field trip. Or partake in such dangerous activities."


    The creepy hood dances around Amar again, like a predator playing with its food. Some evil step mother about to sing and taunt the poor heroine.


    "When it''s announced that it''s your blood that saved them, you will be perfectly protected. You will never have to work another raid in your life. You''re too precious of a resource for that. Thank me boy, for I have assured your place with me so long as you live."


    "Thank you sir Darius."


    Amar steps away lightly as if there was not just a creepy looming adult all over him. Bragging about keeping him forever as a human lab rat. The only emotions in that room are the greedy hunger in that Madam Damia and the strained look of hidden pity in Vincent.


    It''s the wost sort of show, and I am far from entertained.


    I should move, at least away from the door. A slide to the side to not make it so obvious I''ve been witness to this entire fiasco. If I was numb before, I''m stone cold now. My blood has drained with them, these children.


    Before I do, killing intent spikes.


    It gets worse.


    *slap*


    A long nail or five scratches against a child soft cheek in her slap. More fresh blood spills from Amar''s cheek yet the boy stands still, facing madam Damia only after the attack is done.


    "Hehehe how dare you fail to address me boy."


    How dare an old bat like that giggle as if she were a spring flirt. Her tongue laps at her own hand, tasting the innocent blood on her nails.


    Vincent pales even further, weak fists clenching but utterly doing nothing. His head lowers in a mixture of emotions that rivals my own if not for the solid defeat in his bearing. Amar, as always, just takes it.


    "My apologies Madam Damia. Thank you for the lesson."


    "Oh your face, your lovely little face. What if I had gotten your eye? How careless of me! We should at least clean that up."


    She only lets him go when a small vial of blood is collected from his face. As if she were wiping his bloody tears away. Her touch so soft when it was so cruel but just a moment ago.


    He thanks her again.


    It''s wrong. It''s all so wrong.


    The door creaks open and closed again so quickly it might as well never have been moved. In less then the time it takes to blink I''m picked up, the pain in my dead legs reigniting with a fury.


    I want to cry but I can''t. I won''t make a sound. There''s only more trouble when children cry.


    I won''t give myself away like that. It''s fine, this much pain is fine. I can bear with it.


    It''s so cold. Everything feels so cold, even where it burns.


    "You shouldn''t have seen that. You shouldn''t listen." Amar whispers, setting me back down next to a still unconscious Lukas.


    What a fine sight we all make. Bloody and beaten. I should have brought a baby sitter after all. But then....we would have never found out, would we? I bet this boy would keep silent even if he died


    "Are you okay Rosalia?"


    No.


    I shake my head furiously, holding my tongue, I have to bite down on myself to not make any noise. My senses coming back fuller over time, my stuffed up lungs ready to scream and cry.


    No, of course, I''m not okay. Don''t be stupid. It''s not me that needs to be asked that question right now. It''s not me that''s in the most pain.


    "Are... you okay?" I manage to choke out, broken and wet.


    I won''t cry, I can''t cry now.


    Amar''s little smile is very cute. Very innocent and cute. If you didn''t notice the slice to his face or the unhealed bandages tinged in grey, then you might not ever suspect a thing was wrong.


    "I''m fine."


    I choke and break.


    That''s the same damn thing I would say back then. The same damn ''fine''. Lies. It was all lies. I was never fine. I was just waiting for someone to notice. I wasn''t ever fine. I''m not fine, you''re not fine, Lukas down there is not fine, none of this is fine!


    No screaming, no crying, it''s the next line out his smiling mouth that kills me.


    "It''s fine. I''m used to it. "


    ------

 89 Salted Caramel

    "No...not fine!"


    Do you know how hard it is to subtly whisper and shout? While crying?! It''s as extremely distressing as it is difficult.


    It''s awful horrid in how I''m the one sobbing! Wrong kid! The wrong kid is being comforted here. Anyone walking in would get the completely wrong idea about just which kid is getting abused!


    "It''s fine. It will be fine," says Amar kindly, patting my head.


    It''s all wrong. His little wrists are all wrapped up. I can''t stop flashbacking to every single time I''ve seen this boy, trying to remember every single bandage or wrapping that he would occasionally sport. What was a training injury and what was...this?


    "You''re not fine!" I hiss.


    "Yes, I am?"


    "No. No you''re not. You''re a liar. That''s what you do. You lie. You lie all the time with your pranks and you lie to Lukas about when bad things that happen to you. You lie and it doesn''t work on me!"


    "There there, let it out. It hurts a lot, right? You''re crying."


    Am I now?! Ohhhh I haven''t noticed through all the choking and hiccuping I''m doing. What a deduction!


    "You''re doing it again!"


    "???"


    "Lying! You lie all the time by not saying anything! Liar!"


    This boy is always lying even when he keeps quiet. He goes around and around, throwing people off with crowed pleasing answers that don''t mean anything and I should have known. I of all people should something was so awfully wrong. Magical fantasy world or not, this isn''t how normal kids react to anything.


    I, the biggest liar here, the biggest liar besides my batshit crazy grampa, should have known.


    That soft unassuming smile finally breaks. In that split second Amar''s face falls blank in an unreadable expression. He looks gaunt like that, without anything to distract from his pitiful current state. He looks like a mummy for real, bandages and all. It chokes me in frustration how we ever thought that it was ok? In the shadowy dark, his owlish wide eyes take on a toxic green tinge, as if they''ve been poisoned along the rest of him.


    Until they blink, once, twice, then the scariest part happens.


    He starts laughing.


    Shit shit shit this stupid kid! Brain-damaged! I officially declare him brain damaged due to head trauma, the lack of blood and who knows what else! What else is wrong? Who knows, because this child just takes it?


    Why am I the one still crying? It should be you crying, not laughing! Wrong reaction! Ahhhh where''s a tissue when you need one! Or maybe a pediatrics brain surgeon.


    "Can you do me a big favor, Rosalia?" Amar quietly whispers through his giggles, as if it''s another one of his silly pranks.


    A favor? How about I sick grampa on this ''master'' Darius and Damia? How''s that for a favor?


    Chop chop, literally. I''ll do it. I may be a modern person but I know the punishment system for criminals here. This more than counts, we got two prime victims of evidence here. The dungeons? Flogging? Oh no no no this deserves so much worse.


    I''m not Lilyanne. I''m not so nice and weak. Chop Chop off with their heads, just let me at them! I''ll turn them into a Sunday roast!


    Ok, fine I''ll send grampa to do it bc I''m three and tiny and squishy and I really can''t stop sobbing. All I can do it nod angrily. Do you see my expression? I am livid!!!


    For reasons I can only chalk up to child abuse and brain trauma, Amar fails to keep it in and burst out laughing even harder. Honestly grinning and giggling, the twinkles of life and delight back on his tiny face. If I didn''t know any better I''d say he was laughing right at me, actually, wait he is. Why? Because there''s not enough blood to pump to reach his brain!!!


    "Ahaha, you''re doing a really good job Rosa. But can you cry louder? I know you can. I can''t stop you from telling later, I know that. You heard too much and I can''t stop you. So right now please cry a lot, make it really loud. You can even play Lilyanne again if you want?"


    What''s that supposed to mean?!


    You want me to throw a big fat nonsense baby tantrum here!!! Right now?!!!


    I''m doing my very best to keep it in but it''s impossible through all this hiccuping! Curse this toddler body with it''s overrun emotions and senses! I don''t need to act like Lilyanne, this is me actually crying! How dare you reduce me to such a state?!


    "That''s it. Cry lots and lots, be really loud and annoying. You''re really good at that? Oh, but you should drink something before it really gets bad? It tastes bad right?"


    I give up, I officially give up with trying to figure out this kid and this entire situation. I''m just going to sick grampa on everyone. Chop chop murder. Then throw you all at Gable for therapy or something.


    "Stop all that racket at once!" shrieks the blood sucking witch, slamming open the door.


    For the first time, I get a clear look at her. A woman so beautiful that she can make babies cry from a look alone. Even in rage, her facial muscles look as stiff as her hair, fashionably ironed and stabbed into place. That''s the most I get before Amar twists me up and around into a baby hold again. Completely blocking my sight and quite frankly my breathing, that is if his body wasn''t so damn boney!


    I see everyone''s urge to feed him now, if the obvious poisoning wasn''t enough. All the bacon wings, you get all the food. Once I chop chop these scum villains that is! Let me at them!!!


    "Apologies madam Damia, she''s only a baby."


    "Well get it to stop! She''s already bloody, get it to stop or else it won''t pass by Lord Geoff and whoever else isn''t ours."


    "There there Rosalia."


    Liar. A sneaky hand pinches right at my thigh, where the burning pain is still raging, causing me the screech much louder. Fine, you want me to cry? You want a show? I''ll give you a show!


    "Waaaaaaaaah! AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"


    Amar flinches in something that isn''t entirely a lie, the pinching eases.


    On one hand, this child is so very pitiful and abused to the point of obvious brain damage. On the other ....what the hell? What gives?


    From the unseen subtle motions in his arms, Amar motions for me to continue the tantrum. At this rate, though it''s no act. I am very angry, confused, and feeling many many more overwhelming things. What sane person wouldn''t cry?


    "Get her to stop!"


    "It''s the poison madam. Argemone, horse chestnuts, othalam, redoul, unripe wallflower, and melianthus nectar were all in today''s dish. I got the paralysis down and got her to breathe again but she''s still in a lot of nerve pain.


    "Is that all?!"


    "She''s just a baby madam, that dose was for me. Even with the blood, the fever must hurt a lot. I couldn''t get her to drink a sleeping drought like Lukas did."


    "Such noise, how aggravating! ....Oh but....if it hurts so...then perhaps a bit of leeching would ease the poor thing''s pain. Yes...yes it''s a medical treatment, we must release the excess bad blood."


    What? No bad blood hungry witch. I can''t see her but the air in this space has changed, Amar''s skinny arms grip me much tighter.


    A turn so soon and sudden it''s a little nauseating. Suddenly I can see the bloody Botox witch up close, madly grinning with lipstick stained teeth.


    For my own sanity in this helpless play, I will pretend that it is lipstick. My rage is already boiling at the sight.


    "You dare defy me boy?"


    That''s when I see it. Her outstretched arm is connected to a veiny hand, far older than her face appears. She holds on to something strange and grotesque, a cross between a syringe and a living leech. Rows of circular teeth and all. Said sharp teeth gnaw and stick out from a new bloody wound on Amar''s back shoulder.


    Again. He takes it without even a wince.


    "No madam Damia. There is not to be a wound on them, those were sir Darius orders. They''re supposed to be cured without a single wound, to show his unmatchable potions and healing skills." recites Amar.


    He tries to press my head down to look away but I can''t.


    That leech thing, whatever it is, is sucking blood so rapidly that the flesh of his thin neck is turning as pale as a corpse. The crazy lady had it out for my blood, that spot where I just was. It was blocked but here Amar is bleeding again. How does he still have any blood in him? How has he not passed out from anemia yet?!


    "Madam Damia, the price of your beauty tonics and potions are high no matter what. Noble and wealthy ladies line up for them, but sir Darius is very stubborn and only focuses on research he likes. He can only rely on his reputation as a medicinal and magical potions brewer, unlike your fame and skills madam Damia."


    "Tsk. Supporting my brother- you''re all ever so loyal."


    The mad woman withdraws with a fat leech vial of swishing blood. A tremor of pain, not mine, shakes me as the leech mouthed syringe finally releases its host. The suction releasing with a horrible popping sound from the pale torn flesh.


    She samples a portion of the liquid as one would down a shot glass before licking her lips in satisfaction.


    "Ah but I can''t be too angry at you sweet boy. You''re just too delicious, I could eat you right up. My brother is far too stingy with you."


    "Thank you for your praise madam Damia."


    A hand resembling bloody claws pets at his hair, a single elongated pinky nail tracing over the edge of an eyelid. It gets so increasingly close that it has me wincing instinctively.


    "Remember, you can always come over to my side anytime you change your mind little one. I can provide you with so much that my brother can''t. The trade is always yours to make, for one of those."


    The way she strokes his head was the way one would inspect fruit at a market. The way she peers, trying to get a clear look at his eyes, the object of her sick desires.


    "Thank you for your kindness madam Damia." he says simply, head down.


    "Such a polite boy~ if only my own children were so easy. Life is so unfair, for that cavorting harlot to pop out to such a good child like you."


    As she chuckles in a way that can''t be described as anything but evil. As she moves, the clings and clangs of her jewels sound out.


    It''s the mention of his mother the does it, it must be and for good reason. It''s what gets Amar to reacts. The dead blankness that he''s been maintaining this whole time sharpens into something deadly. Something that reminds me of just how scary this kid can get.


    He twists at my skin, prompting me to continue the Lilyanne tantrum cry.


    "WWaAAAAhhhhhhh!!!!"


    "Tsk Tsk they''re such a pain at this stage. Vincent! Oh Vincent dear- see to this noisemaker and clean our favorite subject up now!"


    Her steps echo, from the weight of her heavy dress and all her accessories. Vincent stands pale at the doorway, head down and subservient. He waits for three breathes after she leaves before quietly shutting the door and clamoring to his knees before us.


    "Vincent....good you''re here. I think Rosa''s really thirsty by now-"


    Without a single word the teenager has a yellow bottle violently forced down Amar''s throat, some of those contents splashing right on me. I can''t spare the effort to react to even be surprised, not after that freak show.


    "Everything, down everything you god awful brat."


    Despite his harsh words, Vincent''s hands tremble gently, one hand supporting the back of Amar''s head and his eyes worriedly inspect the blood drained wound on his back.


    "Bleck! Can I put Rosa down first? This is one of yours right Vincent?" chokes the little boy when he swallows half the bottle down with a grimace.


    Healing potions, the stronger the more bitter I recall.


    "Shut up, of course, it''s mine. I wouldn''t risk any of master''s mislabeled brews. Now drink."


    "Sorry Rosalia, did you want some? It''s not very good but you''re still in pain right? Vincent''s potion''s will help blec-"


    "Shut your mouth and drink everything! God damn it can you worry about yourself first?"


    Even when Vincent has me put down the cot as gently as possible, he''s back on pouring liquids down Amar''s throat. The pulling down the kid''s shirt to patch up the gaping injury.


    "Wrong one" coughed Amar, wobbling on his feet before giving up to fall into Vincent''s arms.


    "Shut up and stop being stubborn." seethes Vincent, spreading a mushy green paste onto Amar''s bare back. That gets Amar to whimper as I would imagine since upon contact the wound starts steaming. Literally steaming.


    I try not to stare too hard at the other fading and healing wounds, hints of pale scratches on tan skin. They scream prolonged abuse, something somehow more physical than his own peeking bones.


    "I''m not? That one won''t do much...nor any if your usuals. Can I have that?"


    "....you didn''t."


    He shudders as he turns Amar over to paste the cut on the boy''s face. Shaking him as he forces Amar to look in his eyes, that or inspect his increasingly overblown pupils. Eyes like that can''t be natural I finally realize, wide and black like an owl.


    "Tell me you didn''t."


    Amar giggles, a smile half sheepish and all trouble. Dark blood, so unnaturally dark it''s almost black, starts dripping down from his nose.


    That can''t be healthy.


    "It''s time now." Amar smiles in bright joy, teeth, dimples and all.


    He looks giddy, maybe delirious. He looks like a child about to get a treat or go on a field trip. As if this was all good fun.


    "Fuck shit fuck! No no no, it isn''t finished- it''s wasn''t supposed to.... not yet you little...- shit!" stammer''s Vincent. Rage and fear all mixing into one voice.


    Amar shrugs, looking honest to god innocent with his too-large eyes now.


    "Rosa found out, Lukas too. They got hurt...it''s okay if it''s me but they got hurt. It''s too much. They''re not gonna listen? Lukas is sleeping but Rosa''s gonna tell and then it will be too late. There will be no next time?"


    "Shut it and drink now!"


    In his panic, Vincent struggles to fish out a tiny vial of golden liquid that swirls with violet specks. Once uncorked, Amar takes it without any hesitation, only the bitter squint he makes when tasting something particularly foul.


    "Yuck..."


    "It wasn''t finished....it wasn''t finished you insane brat! It won''t...there''s no antidote- there''s no antidote for that!"


    Amar takes the wrecked scolding with a few nods, as if it were just Georgie nagging at us, and goes to rummaging around his pockets looking for something. His face brightens as he finds a candy, a familiar wrapped caramel, and tosses it into his mouth.


    An inappropriate time to shout that I knew he was hiding more of those away somewhere.


    "It''s fine. I''ll be fine-... my body will work it out. Eventually." he chews, doing nothing for Vincent''s panic.


    "By the goddess and death hold, your body might not last!!!"


    "Ssshhhhhh Rosalia''s still here you know? Oh Rosa, do you want a caramel? Sorry, I wasn''t lying to you before when I said I didn''t have anymore. I just didn''t have any more hidden at Gables. "


    "Stop trying to distract me, Rosalia''s good! She''s not....Shit, how much did you take?! When?!"


    "Just now. When I went out and you were getting collected. Sorry, you had to do that again. I had to take a lot if I wanted it to reach my heart and blood fast enough because I knew Damia wouldn''t be able to resist drinking from me today- sorry Vincent. I ate all your bulbs. Don''t be mad?"


    Rather than anger, the necromancer pales even further, as if that was somehow possible. I don''t need to be in the loop to know this isn''t good. The information overload hitting me all at once.


    "You did what?!" the more Vincent panics, the more he stutters. He''s really so young still.


    "What''s going on here? How bad is this?" I break in, finally not able to stand the drama going on around me.


    I feel like going mad, the rage and complicated emotions in me swirling with no way out. The crying did nothing to ease it, rather it only makes me more frustrated. I feel like hitting something, or someone, a lot.


    "Ah Rosa, don''t be mad too. Candy? Open your mouth? Ah...she''s really mad."


    Peace offering denied, the candy bounces to the floor, sad and ignored as I''ve just been. In the past few house I have been tricked poisoned, put through the wringer, poison hungover, witness to the worst case of human experimentation in this land, almost stabbed for blood myself and been forced to cry and vomit myself dry. Then cry some more for no good reason.


    After I''m done with those villains I''m coming for you two skeletons. Especially Amar, the primary source of all this suffering and quite possibly the poster boy of child abuse. Some candy isn''t going to cut it. Far from it.


    Vincent himself looks twitchy. As if he would be attacking the brat in his arms if Amar wasn''t in such a bad state or hadn''t just poisoned himself, again. Horribly from the sounds of it.


    "How bad?" I repeat, being generous.


    "Umm...it tastes bad."


    Everything out of the little liar''s mouth is now henceforth denied. It doesn''t matter if he''s not lying by a technicality. That''s the worst part about him, always avoiding the truth. I turn my glare over to the only other victim in the room. There''s no need to say anything to threaten.


    Don''t you lie to me too Vincent, you really can''t afford it with a Ventrella. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.


    "It''s bad. It''s very very very bad and Rosalia I need you to not panic." rebutes Vincent, holding a blackening handkerchief to Amar''s still bleeding nose.


    "I''m not panicking."


    I am perfectly calm as I should be in this very simple not at all horrifying situation. I am calmly thinking what to do with everyone.


    How to extract information from the hoody master and crazy Damia. What to do to stretch out their suffering and dig out their roots and contacts. How to make Vincent and Amar finally break and squeal on the things that should not be happening to them, or to any child. How to handle sleeping piggy behind me, how to explain it to Gable. To anyone. What to make for dinner tonight? How much I''m going to have to chop.


    Yes I am very calm. Can an angry rampaging person think about all that? I think not.


    Everyone but a still sleeping Lukas shivers at nothing. To Amar though the shivering doesn''t stop. Vincent panics even further, digging for another strange vial and using it to scribble an inscription of faintly glowing runes on the shaking boy. From his forehead to his limbs, the mark on skin fading as if they were never there but the ones on his bandages take on a layered mess of black.


    "Shit shit shit- Rosalia I swear, I''ll explain everything but for now please you-" sputters Vincent.


    "Can you do me another favor Rosa? Well a few? I''ll give you all the sweets I''m hiding if you do? Promise. I really wasn''t lying." Amar pleads as well as he can when pinned down in Vincent''s lap.


    There''s too many plots going around. The bloody experiments. The strings of child abuse evidence stacking up. Whatever the hell is going on between these two with some poisonous bulbs with no cure, which are all sitting in Amar''s stomach.


    Sure, surprise me more. I dare you to.


    "What."


    Amar holds out three fingers, his other hand tiredly wiping away at the nose bleed.


    "One...can you give us some time, before you go telling your family everything you heard. If Cap'' or Gable hears right now it will turn out all wrong. "


    "How''s that Amar? How can it get any worse?"


    I feel like laughing at just how insane this all is. That''s how angry I''m feeling. Oh uncle Geoff where are you, get me to grampa so I can hurry up with chop chop~


    It''s Vincent that spills, the blockade that always seems to bury him finally unclogging. As feeble as he looks, there''s a firmness to his words. Something resembling and actual will to live.


    "Because your lord grandfather and the rest of troops will just kill them. The trial will either be another sick joke or your grampa will just kill them. Either way we lose, I lose. We can''t lose any more. I''m sorry Rosalia, I''m so sorry for keeping so much hidden but you don''t know what''s at stake. All the research, all the connections and... I''ll lose it all when they destroy this department. They''ll upturn everything, destroy it. 10 years of my training, my life''s work will be gone just like that. There''s no other place for me, it''s the only reason I stayed through that. I know it''s wrong but this- what Master Darius has created. He''s insane, he''s horrible yes but this is the only place. " he begs.


    I stay silent, taking in everything with an as open mind as possible. My personal rage and hunger for justice is not dampened at all but I understand there are things I don''t know. I understand that things are messier than it already appears. Just because I can see where VIncent is coming from, however, does not mean I approve.


    I do not approve of anything that goes on here, I won''t let it go on. Amar is right. I won''t listen.


    My silent stare unnerves the teen, I know. I see from how he fidgets in all the little way. Whatever was left of his dark intimidating front in my mind is entirely broken. I''ve seen him at his worst, his most painfully vulnerable and he knows it. The demeanor screams shame. Guilt, shame, and so much unnecessary pain, from more than just the physical damage.


    It''s a feeling I know all too well. In any lifetime. It''s something we don''t like to admit, even to oneself.


    "I...this whole plan. I know it sounds crazy. It''s so so wrong and crazy, so much. It''s too good to be true, too difficult but we can''t pull it off if they''re just executed like that or worse if we''re found and-" he tries to start again, before Amar silences him with another finger.


    "Two." he holds out, making a peace sign.


    "Two...In front of sir Geoff and the medics, in front of everyone..." he means those scum, from the way he shifts his tired eyes to the door, I know he means the villains that are responsible for all this. "in front them....at least till you get back home, you have to play dumb. You can''t let them know what you do, it''s not safe here. You have to get better first, both you and Lukas."


    Amar is beginning to breathe heavier, his little chest huffing to compensate. Color has returned to his still too pale face but it''s in the flush of fever and not something good and healthy. The minute shivering won''t stop, even with whatever magic Vincent is placing on him.


    Stupid stupid stupid!


    These kids really have something planned out. It''s so bad they thought they had to do this all alone. That''s what breaks my heart the most. That they couldn''t just...go to anyone. The didn''t go ask for help or anything. Everything was just between the two of them.


    This whole time, how much pain and secrets have they been hiding in them the whole time? That little bleeding boy there has literally been by my side for this whole year. An entire year and nothing. The hurt and frustration boiling in me must be nothing compared to his.


    I can''t keep up the calm nor the anger. It''s just sadness that flows out of me in waves.


    "Fine...that I can do. What''s number three?"


    The nosebleed finally gives pause and Amar struggles up in Vincent''s protective grip. They look at each other, nodding and shaking their heads in an almost silent argument. From the way Vincent chews at his lip, from the utter desperation in his face, he''s losing. He''s losing against a kid over a decade younger than him. In hushed whispers, I hear the hints of ''no'' ''tomorrow night'' and even ''Yuna''.


    I''m scared. I can''t deny it. I''m so scared and it''s not for myself.


    What trouble this all is. As if just being me wasn''t hard enough. What terrible heartbreaking trouble are all these boys?


    With a little smile that hints of victory, Amar crawls out of Vincent''s embrace and over to me. Over to Lukas, still dead to the world.


    "Three."


    He drops a bag down from out of nowhere. A bag I''m familiar with yes. It''s the same one I gave him once, stuffed with golden coins and my clumsy little soaps. The stupid gift card before he left on that stupid mission with the terrible scum that openly attacked him and cracked his head open.


    How many are there? How many abusers are in this place? And why?


    The bag spills open with candies instead of gold. A variety of caramels and other wrapped goodies that smell of sugar and spice. That''s all. Nothing fancy or hidden underneath the multi-color sweets. Just a child''s innocent secret stash.


    "Three...if I''m not there when Lukas wakes up. Tell him I''m sorry. I''m really really sorry. Tell him he''s better than anyone else, ever. No matter what they say. Tell him not to look for his parents anymore, because I think he has the best ones already. Tell him he''s awesome. Tell him I''m glad he bothered me so much into being his friend, it was the best."


    Amar smiles so hard it looks like it hurts. Like putting flowers to a grave he places half the spilled candies over and onto Lukas. As if he could stuff the boy with goodies to last a lifetime. When he turns to me, he pours the rest down my lap. It hurts, this rain of sweets hurts.


    "Sorry Rosalia. Sorry I can''t play anymore. Sorry. It''s been really fun for me. Everything''s been really interesting and fun. I didn''t believe mama about your home at all, but I was wrong. It''s been fun. Sorry, I forgot your snacks, sorry if I can''t get you more. Sorry for tricking you so much. Sorry for making you cry."


    I''m not crying, you''re crying. What do you mean if you''re not there? What''s with all the shitty overdue apologies! Stop apologizing!


    "AH, you can stop babying your sister so much? Because you''re a big baby too, you''re really a crybaby, and you should call your mama more? She likes it, a lot, same with your papa! You''re all so funny when you pretend you don''t like him most. It''s nice, what you have. It''s really funny, why a kid with parents like you wants to play with us. Lukas and I don''t, so we notice. A pretty mama, a nice papa, a baby sister and even a silly grampa. A big house with lots of friends. It''s fun, a lot of things I''ve never seen or done before. It was all really fun."


    Stop. Stop saying it like you''re saying goodbye.


    "Yummy and fun. Everything tasted too good, food without poison tasted really really good."


    He unwraps a caramel candy, dangling it in front of my face. As if that could distract me. Somehow the piece of candy enters my mouth. It''s really salty. Sweet and salty.


    "Thank you. It was the best."


    The drip is slow. Blood falls from him again and this time so does Amar himself.


    Vincent scrambles to catch the fainted boy, cries panicked and shaking. It all happens too fast, again. A loud bang erupts as the building shakes with footsteps. The door bursts open again with not only uncle Geoff but my grampa rushing in.


    I''ve never but so relieved to see him. So happy.


    Salty tears falling despite how dry and tired I feel inside. It''s ridiculous that I barely notice Gable right behind. All I can cry for is for Grampa to hold me and make it all right. Even if it''s all his fault for allowing such a thing to happen here, in our home. If there''s anyone that can make it right and save anyone then it''s this person. I want grampa to fix this, to fix everything I''m dying from. Chop chop or something. When he finally reaches me I sob madly in his too warm too rough embrace.


    When I look again, Lukas is safely scooped up in Gable''s arms, the older boy looking so pale and small. A mere snowball curled against a stricken Gable.


    They''re gone.


    There''s not even a shadow of Vincent when they were just right there.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Amar is gone and all that remains is the spilled candy on the ground. A disappearing bittersweetness still melting on my tongue. It''s so damn salty.


    -----

 90 Sweet dreams

    You would think I would be able to do something. You would think that.


    I''m Rosalia Therese Ventrella, the dreaded scheming villainess. Except for the heroine, anyone who dares to cross me can expect a swift end. The utter ruined downfall of everything they ever loved or touched. I''ll destroy your wealth. I''ll drag your reputation to the gutters. I''ll have you so publically flogged and privatelly tortured to the point you''ll be begging for the sweet release of death. Once you''re my target I won''t let go, not even when you can no longer beg underneath my dainty feet.


    I am the villainess. I am a bad end boss. I am three years old and I''m about to fall asleep. Again. I''ve been poisoned with something, again.


    "You said she was cured?!! How could this happen?"


    Surprisingly it''s not grampa but uncle Geoff that roars.


    He and Gable keep silent as they inspect between a soundly sleeping Lukas and I. A flickering of Gable''s green flame snapped between his fingers. A press into of large strong hands into Lukas'' chest, a beat of something pressed into him. Their faces perfectly serious, that''s how bad it is. The other child doesn''t even let out a single snore, his face an angelic cherub in his stillness. His sleep. He looks like a painting and scarily beautiful like that.


    I don''t like it.


    But Lukas won''t wake up not because he''s dead but because of whatever Amar did to him. A sleeping drought, I hear Gable mutter quietly in the close space he shares with Grampa.


    "They both are, but it will take time. They did ingest a deadly test concoction, some lingering effects are expected. Half a dish could kill a normal adult." patiently explains the hood.


    A part of me roars at the sight of him. Standing there like he''s innocent, some calming physician to the anxious parents. He stands there like he''s not the criminal behind all this and more. A psychopath with a pandering smile, hidden in plain sight at the scene of the crime, directing everyone into his play.


    It won''t work. It can''t. Grampa and Gable are here, they can''t be so stupid to fall for this.


    "No...idiot, trouble. Amar''s in trouble....poison. He''s been... poisoned." I choke out, the effects of whatever I''ve been poisoned with slowing encroaching control over my body.


    There''s no pain though, none of that numbing or burning poison.


    It feels as if I''m softly being buried. Fall leaves. Fresh snow. A gentle approach of sleep weighing down on my mind like a cozy blanket. Lingering sweet, bitter and saltiness still echo in my mouth. I should have spat it out before it melted all down.


    I''ve been roofied. Another form of sleeping drought. Cursed brat roofied me with candy.


    I''ve worked at a bar for how many years? Never in my life have I been dosed. Never! But here I am, struggling to spit out whatever coherent information I can before I go under. I''ll kill him. Right after I save everyone''s stupid asses, I''ll kill him till he''s dead and then I''ll kill him some more.


    But first, there''s this villain to take care of. Hoody Darius whatever. He needs to go down and Amar needs help the most out of all of us. I''ve watched enough cliche Kdramas to know what sudden nosebleeds mean.


    "Help...him...he''s...poisoned."


    Is it too much to ask for grampa to just act? He doesn''t need to understand it all, just go attack or something. Proceed with the chop chop already.


    "Where is the other child?" Gable speaks up, solemn and frigid.


    "Why he''s resting. Anemia I''m afraid, I have others looking after him. In his panic, Amar lost too much blood trying to save those poor innocent children. The amazing part is that it worked, it staved off the effect long enough until I arrived. His blood worked wonderfuly, just as the rumors say."


    Lying. Such a liar.


    The problem, however, isn''t a villain lying. It''s the fact that no one is doing anything about it. What rumors? Why are we still standing around. Why is his stupid hoody head still attached to his body?! Violence isn''t the answer my butt, this is a fantasy world with a noble system. Grampa is a damn overwhelming hero that goes around killing and smashing in the name of peace. This is Ventrella lands. The Ventrella genes in me says violence all the way.


    "Why....poison. He''s getting poisoned!" I grit out, fighting off the grips of sleep by my stubbornness alone.


    "It looks like the children are very much still disoriented. Frightened understandably. They don''t understand things or that these are not areas for play. It''s partly my fault, for being careless about my pupils. I had no idea Vincent and Amar would bring these two here. There are too many dangerous things about."


    Why are we still giving him the space to speak, to lie? Why isn''t anyone reacting to Amar getting poisoned?! Long termed poisoned? That''s a pretty big deal to oh say anyone with common sense.


    Even in the horribly tense and suspicious pause, hoody stays rather calm, playing subservient in front of grampa''s gaze. There is a tremble however when faced with Gable, as if he were an unexpected surprise that hoody wasn''t prepared for.


    Well surprise, time to die.


    "There''s a reason why this training course isn''t popular. I understand the fear. It''s not for everyone, not everyone can handle it. Yet those boys are all aware and consenting to the sacrifice of science. It''s terrifying and painful yes, and thus very brave of them. Especially one as young as that child, yes even if his constitution is blessedly favorable. To take a little bit of poison over the course of time in order to grow an immunity, it''s a worthy sacrifice. Even if it''s carefully controlled under my supervision, I of all people understand the risks."


    Hoody sighs as he explains, holding out his own arm. The peeks of flesh between leather gloves and his layers of clothes show sallow skin tight on the bone. Even in his red huff of anger uncle Geoff is mostly calm at the news. Grampa and Gable don''t even blink at the revelation.


    As if this much is nothing. As if they already knew.


    They already know.


    I get it now. The crazy experiments on himself too. A little bit of poison over a long period of time. It builds resistance, or it''s supposed to. He experiments with poisons and everyone lets him. He doses his students....and people just let him.


    It''s approved, this shit is on the damn curriculum.


    If I wasn''t so sick of the taste of blood, I''d cough some up right now. Fucking shit. I knew there were some messed up standards in this world but this is really something else.


    Everyone knew.


    I claw into grampa''s chest, as far as I can reach. If I could I would draw blood. My vision going darker and darker in red.


    "You ...let him..." I can only softly growl, getting all the more tired by the minute.


    It''s not only the drugs that sure to be in my system. Even in my shaking rage, it feels too damn safe in grampa''s arms. Too safe. I can''t allow myself to get comfortable, I can''t fall asleep. Not in this situation.


    "It''s truly a miracle. For raw blood to be that effective. The possibilities are endless, imagine the cures we could create. From undiscovered anti-venoms to unimaginable beneficial applications. I''ve truly never seen such potential, such blood, and still so young. It''s a more than mere magic, it''s a miracle." Darius keeps going, getting more excited as he speaks.


    I hope it''s the villain''s incriminating speech so we can just chop chop already.


    A low rumbling growl vibrates from Grampa''s chest, his entire body on edge. It seems he feels the same way I do. His head, however, is turned sharply to concentrate fully on Gable rather than the speaker. It''s Gable''s presence alone that keeps grampa in check, in line. It''s Gable permission, when he so signals it, that allows him to attack.


    When did that happen? It''s Gable but...when did the hero take orders from others?


    "How long," asks Gable, face as cold as ice. "How long have you been playing with that child''s blood?"


    "Why, you all have the entirely wrong idea. As a scholar, everything must be carefully controlled and verified. Why I have always taken samples of my students'' blood, for their own safety if not for the validity of the research. A controlled sample to track their condition over time. Standard procedure at this point."


    My tongue feels heavy as I let out a whimper and whine. Don''t believe him, don''t believe these lies.


    There''s no need to play dumb when I literally am. Physically, I can''t will myself to speak more than a few broken words at a time. No need to promise anyone shit.


    Green lighting ripples, from either grampa or Gable I can''t tell. It crackles more than a few objects in the next room as it makes its natural way out.


    "How long have you stuck your veins in and bought out medics here?"


    Gable''s voice is gravel and ice. It''s the opposite of my grampa''s comforting rumble. That feels like the purring of a too-large dog, intimidating at first but now something I have unconsciously come to find familar. Familar and safe. There''s no safer place than here with gramps, as tense as he is.


    But it''s not me that needs this safety, this protection. It''s not me that gets to keep it. That''s an issue to bottle up for another time though- because the child in the most immediate danger is not my sister.


    "Why whatever do you mean? In this field, it''s quite necessary to work with medics and healers. "


    "I mean..." Gable grinds at his teeth, "when did you infect them with your poison? Hmm did you buy them out? Replace them with some of your own? I see that much. That...that was not the system I set up. That is not the procedure."


    "No. No I don''t suppose it is. By all means of respect sir Gable, you''re a respected senior. My respected senior. But you''ve been gone too long, you''re behind on the current times. Behind and not in the picture. You no longer spearhead the scientific community, there are other means of potions making. More effective ones."


    "Effective. Poisoning children is your proposal? Poisoning children and using their blood is the new standard here?!"


    "Again, you''re entirely misunderstanding. The students know what they''re ingesting and their dosage. This was an accidental case with innocent children who don''t know any better. It is a regretful case that brings up the issue of safety and protection. Thus I propose- to isolate this department and its dutiful students and subjects. Prevent something like what has so risked the well being of the young lady of this fine land."


    Everything is getting increasingly heavier. The words being spat out back and forth only partially make it through to my sluggish brain. I see first hand now how getting drugged is a horrible ordeal. My comprehensions slows, so does the world. I think I hear my own heartbeat lulling, soft as a little bird''s.


    "To isolate?" Gable''s tone comes out cruelly mocking, a trace of laughter in the air. "Get to the point Darius, what do you truely want?"


    "...I see I can only continue to plead until this misunderstanding is cleared."


    "Do drop the farce. Now answer, what do you want."


    "...It''s too dangerous. The world, this place, it''s all too dangerous for the boy. Don''t think people don''t speak, that they don''t know. Not the fledglings or the young blood, but people know. Let me protect him. He will be treasured here, by my side."


    "Treasured? Here? Yes I can quite see that, treasured as a human pancea. What is it that you''ve done with him? How much, how long did he have to ingest to get his blood to this state?! This wasn''t the dosage we approved! Not for Amar, not for anyone!"


    Pale hands grip into the dried blood on Lukas'' front. As if he wanted to rip off the red-dyed stains but was conflicted. Torn between what to feel, what to think.


    "You''ve grown soft oh esteemed one. Old and irrelevant, so quick to twists things in your hypocritical ways. That''s the thing with you royals, but this is not about you. It''s about the boy. The dosage is nothing special, nor anything you can prove from bloodstains alone. It does not harm him so much as it is uncomfortable for anyone."


    There''s a grip on grampa''s arm. Gable using it as a support, reminding grampa that it''s not time to act while holding himself back. In this distance, I can smell his herbal soaps, can feel how grampa relaxes where he touches yet shadowing Gable with his presence. It might be the confusion of the certainly drugged candy but...right now it feels like Gable is shaking from where he''s pressed.


    If Gable is the one who keeps grampa in check then....grampa is the one who gives Gable strength. Even in silence, no....especially because he''s being silent. I see it now, how he supports Gable. How his presence gives Gable the same go-ahead to say and do as he likes. It''s the same that my father does for me. The same that grampa grants me. Somehow...even if he doesn''t say it....someone like Gable... relies on grampa too huh?


    What a strange relationship.


    Ah... there''s too much I still don''t understand.


    "In front of the council, my request is not unreasonable. In fact...it might give them some peace of mind. The boy is more than special, and thus a special case. Give him to me and I can make him something more than a bad memory, a dreaded fear to come. I can make him a savior."


    "By killing him slowly rather than instantly?"


    Hoody lets out a horrid laugh at Gable''s accusation, as if truly amused. It makes make squirm. It makes my innards crawl.


    "He won''t die of all things. My my, you truly have gotten soft, and conservative. Just like them. The effects of aging I suppose, can''t be helped. As I said before, the portions and dosage are all carefully controlled. This much can''t really do anything to those who are trained...."


    I use up the last of my remaining strength to wiggle and moan, loosening my bag into the space between me and grampa''s chest.


    "...grampa...bag...in...bag."


    Check the bag, please look in the bag.


    It''s there, the poisoned dish is in there. I don''t know if you can test it. I don''t know how much it will help but it''s something. I don''t know what more I can do. I''m really too small and helpless. Even back then, even when I was considered an adult. I can''t do anything on my own. So please, take care of this. Before I go to sleep for real. Please be a hero, if not for my sake then for kids like Amar.


    "Besides..." spieled hoody, his sickening laughter growing slurred and distant in my head " what''s the problem with feeding a bit of poison to the poison taster''s son?"


    "You..."


    A lot. A lot is wrong. But there''s nothing more I can do.


    Everything is distorted, muffled, and I''m buried up to my head. Like a true child, even though I don''t want to, I have to go to sleep now. I just...want to do all that I can. I want to wake up to something good.


    It''s your turn grampa. Do your thing.


    Good night now.


    --------


    -----


    ---


    -


    ---


    -----


    ---------


    The children are asleep.


    All is not well but the children are asleep. They''re recovering, not in any pain, from a mixture of their own resilience and the numbing medication running through both their systems. Medication already coursing through their blood before any of them arrived.


    The kids were cured. From whatever they took, whatever they unknowingly ingested. They were cured, recovering and weak yes, but cured. Only time and sleep could do the rest.


    A man too tall for the sofa curls into himself, onto that little space. His hair, long, so long now, was tied up uncomfortably. He could feel it poking, irritatingly on the side of his head. But he can''t bring himself to move, to care.


    A hum or magic and improvised machinery bubbling and clanking softly in the background. By now the fire was dying, only the low burning glow of embers remained.


    It was enough.


    Enough for him to blink away the tears and sleep crusting his eyes.


    Enough to highlight the august profile of another, sitting on the floor silently. His broad strong back, dressed only in thin soft linens, leaning against the cushions where Gable lay curled up. If Gable could curl further, perhaps unnaturally like a cat''s, then he could bury these tired eyes in the crook of muscle and warm flesh. In a soft tangle of unkept burnished brown hair, warm and as intoxicating as the finest of beers or ales.


    "Ronald?"


    He exhales the breath he doesn''t know he was even holding. The tiredness in his heart, his body makes him see things. It makes him confused over what is real, what is fear, and what is only a memory.


    "Hmm." Ronald nodded, eyes still closed. A stick of rolled and toasted leaves burning like a floating firefly rested against full slightly chewed up lips. The low light highlighting strong enticing features in the way romantic tales makes everything hazy and all the more beautiful. Too beautiful to be a reality. At the sound of his name whispered in the mostly silent night, he turns his shoulder around to face the resting man on the sofa seat. When long unfairly dark lashes finally lift to unveil pools of brown, Gable feels drunk. He feels like he can''t breathe all over again.


    "...You''re here?"


    Gable can''t feel his own hand without the pins and needles, it had gone numb from where it had laid underneath his head. But he reaches it out anyways, like a phantom limb.


    Like a wild dream from his youth, a larger hand meets him halfway, interlacing fingers with ease. It''s nothing like he''s dreamed of though- darker, stronger, just as burnt as his own and so much older. His own hand looks unfamiliar, the length, the age.


    "Hey you. You fell asleep for a bit there. You can rest some more, the tests are still running." Ron says slowly, stubbing out the smoke stick.


    "You''re still here..." repeats Gable.


    He''s still half asleep, not comprehending the meaning behind those words. He''s still marveling at the sight in front of him, so close. He doesn''t even want to blink, in case it''s a dream. In case he wakes up and he''s all alone again.


    "Of course I am. The tests aren''t done yet with the shitload of stuff mixed in that pot Rosalia snuck but I don''t think it''s any less than the amount needed to kill a herd of black horned rhinos...hey...what wrong? Gabe? Gable, you''re crying."


    Of course he is Gable thinks to himself. Because of all people, Ron is still here. Golden boy, hero extraordinaire, Ronald Ventrella is sitting here in front of him. More gorgeous than a dream, aged finer than any wine and lit in a halo of embers. It''s all so surreal but so nice. How could he not cry?


    It''s slowly catching up to Gable, the events of the day, of his waking life for the past few decades. He''s not sleepy anymore, but still oh so tired. He''s not young anymore, they''re not carefree children anymore, and Ron is still here by his side.


    "Are you tired of me yet?" breathes out Gable, the usual filter of his inner being and his mouth weak.


    Like when they were young, like it was a sweetly cruel joke, Ron pressed a gentle kiss to his still ensnared hand. The small contact burns like the end of a light flame, shocking just as much electricity through him as when he was still called a prince.


    No, it''s better. Because unlike those times, there''s no ceremony, no one watching and no need to do so. Unlike those times, melting lips linger and leave only to press hotter on the inside of his pale veined wrist. Right at the pulse point.


    "Never." whispers at his pulse.


    "You have to be...I fucked up again."


    "No you didn''t Gable."


    "I did...I''m the one that ordered the silence, the secrecy. I''m the one who allowed Darius and his research in all those years ago. I''m the one who kept that child so hidden to this point. I should have never interfered, I should have never....I set this up. All of it. "


    "You didn''t mean this. You didn''t mean for this to happen. It''s the game of politics and if you fucked up then I''m lost. Worse than the damned. Just blame it all on me. It''s my fault ok, they''re my troops. They''re my final say and my fault it became this way. Just put it all on me."


    When Ronald blinks, Gable can feel those lashes flutter and tickle more than just the palm of his hand. It feels like forgiveness he does not deserve. But is that not what blessings and mercy are for?


    Gable admits that he is not a religious man. Spiritual maybe but not religious. He does not think there are gods or goddesses who control their world. Not when nature and its patterned laws exist. Not with people, and all their sins and cycles. But if there''s anything to believe in, there''s this man in front of him. Ronald is so unreal, so much a fantasy that Gable knows there''s no way anyone, especially himself, could have ever dreamed him up.


    "We should have done it your way. Then this never would have happened. No one would have..."


    "Mmm, I like the sound of that but no, that''s not how it would have played out. Your organization made the troops possible, made it last into something more than just my raid teams. I couldn''t have done anything without you Gable."


    "You fool....don''t be so ridiculous."


    "I''m sorry. Don''t cry. I never know what to do when you cry."


    Gable shakes his head in this half smushed position, further loosening his own hair. He must look like a mad man, bedraggled and unclean. His eyes feel hotter than the embers in the fireplace and puffier than a fluffed chick. He''s a mess and he''s very much fine with fucking up his own life. He can do that with excellency but he refuses to drag anyone down with him.


    That''s the problem with heroes though, they dive down to save you, whether you want them to or not. They shine like the god damn sun and reach where you don''t want them to. Like god damn weeds.


    "Tell me you''re tired of me already." he can''t help but whimper.


    "Never."


    "Tell me you''re bored of me already."


    "Never."


    There''s a weed in his life, gripped with roots far too deep in his heart.


    There''s a weed that crash-landed into his life, like a falling star he saw when he was a mere boy.


    A weed that overtook his garden, his soul and he doesn''t want to remember what it''s like to breathe without Ronald. Try as he might to run, petty as he is to fight it, there''s a weed that bloomed all over. It''s impossible to escape, to get rid of. It''s the most glorious thing that''s ever happened to any man, living or dead.


    The weed climbs, strong stems, lush leaves and blood fill veins all about. It crawls from his study floor to right on top of him. Trapping him entirely from above and all around.


    Ronald is looking down at him with those dark eyes, cradling his head and still pouring tears. He''s already an old man at this point. Old, withered and god damn irrelevant if he ever mattered as a person at all. A fucking mess. Yet someone like Ronald is still gazing down as if he were a precious treasure, worthy of such gentleness. Something hard to do for a man as strong and impulsive and Ronald.


    "Do you still think I''m going to throw you away?" Ronald gripes, soft still in the night.


    A drop of wetness falls to hit Gable straight in the face.


    It''s unfair. Too unfair. A face like that is unfair. Even when clouded with fat tears himself, Ronald is too bright and beautiful.


    Gable is filled with stormy frustrations and too much crashing. He''s come to care too much for strangers that were never meant to enter his once perfectly planned life. He''s come to fuck it all up and somehow weld it all together again. He''s not living the life he was ever meant for, never saw for himself.


    "Do you still think that?" pleads Ronald.


    It makes a part of Gable want to laugh. Because that once was all he wanted at some point, Ronald begging to him. Maybe on his knees though. Not this, not in comfort, not when he was so broken and worn.


    "Tell me the truth Ron, are you bored of me yet?"


    Asking would have hurt his pride, if there was any left that is, after all this time with someone like Ronald. There''s nothing left with Ron, never was.


    "No, no. Never. I hate that the thought ever crosses your mind."


    "Are you tired of me yet?"


    "Never."


    "If I''m cold to you? Harsh to you? If I can''t ever give you what you want?"


    " You''re never too cold, never too harsh, you''ve already given me everything I ever wanted."


    "And if I run away again?"


    "Then I''ll find you again."


    He''s being stubborn again. Gable can be so much more stubborn than most people gave him credit for. Even more so than Ronald at times. He''s stubborn and holds because he doesn''t deserve any of this and he knows it.


    "If I can''t be in your life? If I want you to leave me alone forever? If I leave tomorrow and you never see a lick of me again? "


    "Then I thank my lucky stars we had this. I lived this far with you, and I''ll live the rest of this life knowing you''re safe. You''re ok. I''ll break and stay broken and I''ll thank this world every day that it was you who did it."


    The sofa is uncomfortable, his legs dangle awkwardly and there''s just not enough space for one let alone two grown men. They''ll make do, Gable has no choice. There was never any room and here Ron is anyways. Still here when he should have been long gone.


    "Ronald. Shut the fuck up."


    "Only if you shut those thoughts Gable."


    "Shut up."


    "You''re tired, not guilty."


    "Shut up. I''ll think tomorrow. We fix it all again tomorrow."


    "Should I move? Let you go to bed?"


    "Shut up."


    "Can I hold you?"


    "Shut up now."


    Quiet is all he can deal with right now. Gable''s almost desperate pull is all the answer, all the permission that Ronald needs. He comes crashing down on the man laying down beneath him, like a star, a sun, the very burning disaster he is. He is warm and crushing Gable with the full press of his body. Of arms and legs intertwined, the press of chest and chest and finally, finally Gable can breathe.


    Fuck the young and stupid him, this right here was better than any dream. Fucking mess and all.


    --------


    -----


    ---


    -


    ---


    -----


    --------


    "Amma, I''m tired. It hurts and I''m tired of this."


    "That''s why you must eat. "


    "But amma, I''m so tired of it."


    "Eat my dear one, it will ease the pain you feel. It would soak it all away."


    The child remains stubborn, turning away from the spoon and hiding his face in a nearby embroidered cushion. The rug they''re sprawled on is as soft and plush as the detailed weaving pattern on it exquisite. Soft enough for any child to roll and thrash about without any harm.


    "My sweet boy, are you not my darling child? I know how tired you are, that''s why today I added something different."


    "I''m tired of rice and milk, I''m tired of rice pudding. Even if you add more things I''m too tired." comes the muffled cries.


    The mother knows even behind the pillow how her baby must be pouting. It is only with her, in the safety of their veiled quarters and private gardens that she allows him to act as such. Only here can she spoil him.


    When she shakes her head, the dangling earrings and jewels chime like bells. They jingle beautifully when she playfully tickles at his soft little sides.


    "It is so hot today, had your temper gone up with it my love? There there amma knows, it''s hot and your stomach hurts. You''ve done so well and now you must eat or the pain won''t go away soon. To counter the heat, I''ve added fresh pomegranates and honey pressed longans. "


    "Pommes! But what are longans amma?"


    The boy turns around to curiously climb up on his mother''s lap, careful not to catch the delicate cloth of her skirts or wraps on anything. The pain still hurt not only in his tummy but it was bearable enough today. Some days it would hurt so awful he couldn''t move or would have to throw up for hours. There were less and less of those days though. He was getting better at the tests.


    Seeing that the child was finally willing, the mother gestured for her servant to hand back the colorful bowl while another brought down a delicate tray with a strange jar.


    "Longans are a small shelled fruit from far east of here. Amma would eat them fresh in her homeland, but to bring them here we can only keep them in honey and syrups. Drying them loses the pull of the meat."


    With a clean graceful hand that jingled with delicate layers of bangles and rings, the mother picks up the sweet jar up to her baby''s face, allowing him to curiously sniff. Then picks a peeled and deseeded fruit from the sticky honey, popping in into between her delicately painted lips with great fondness at the familiar taste. If one chewed at the flesh, the preserved juice came out, allowing one to taste the original delicacy with the additional sweetness of the honey.


    Without a word, she held up another longan fruit to the boy''s mouth, to which he readily bit.


    "Mmm! It''s so good!"


    At the child''s returned appetite, the entire room breathed a sigh in relief. Though there were many servants ready to attend and serve, a mother''s joy was to hand feed her baby.


    Though it was a hot summer''s day, it wasn''t too unpleasant. Not with the green lush garden terrace right outside shading them further from the heat. Nor the sparkling water fountain splashing, cooling the air and running in irrigated streams.


    Even though the child had just aired out his complaints on the food, the rice pudding was cool and pleasing to his scratchy throat. It wasn''t that it tasted bad, on the contrary, it was one of the most delicious things he ever ate. He was just so tired of it when he had to eat it every time he finished a round of testing or took another painful bite to his soft arm.


    Sometimes it was hairy insects with too many tiny squirming legs. Sometimes the bugs would have hard shells and sharp stingers. A few times there would be snakes or other things with long sharp fangs. But he had to be good and not cry or else amma would be sad. She was already very sad every time, if he cried too then that would be worse.


    A lot of the other mamas cried.


    A lot of them wouldn''t ever stop crying during the tests, sometimes they cried much harder after. Usually, that meant their baby failed.


    Amma didn''t like telling him but he knew what it meant when you didn''t pass. You went to sleep. Depending on the test other things would happen but if you didn''t wake up that was it. No more pain, no more food, just sleep forever.


    He knows it''s called death and being dead. That''s what the funny eunuchs or serving ladies would say. Even though he was his amma''s baby he wasn''t really a baby anymore. He could talk lots and his older sisters and brother Parviz told him he was almost three. That wasn''t a baby anymore?


    But there were no more babies younger than him, not since his last sister ''died''.


    It was a little sad, how they couldn''t play anymore.


    When he was done with the pudding, his tummy really did feel better and his amma let him drink down some mint and herb chai. It felt tingly on his tongue but in the good way. Not the bad way. He could tell the difference for a long time now.


    Sometimes his amma was like magic, she always knew what to do. When she sang him a song then it really was magic. He was going to ask her for one when the water fountains rushed with rain and more water.


    Oh.


    He knew what that meant. Soon more funny eunuch men would knock on their door and do all that bowing and reading. Then amma had to go away and wouldn''t sleep with him that night and he wouldn''t see her till at least noon the next day. Sometimes he had to be the one to go away and he would sleep with his aunties or governess. They were alright but he liked his amma best.


    It was still so early, he didn''t want amma to leave him yet. There were lots of things to do, lessons to learn and birds and plants to see outside. But he liked being with amma best, especially when it hurt.


    As he knew would happen, a line of eunuchs and more servants came. Today they carried a lot of fun new things, the ''rewards''. The jewelry and money things bored him but they looked sparkly and pretty on amma and all their servants would get really excited on seeing them.


    "Rain will bless your gardens this evening." bowed the chief black eunuch before his amma.


    The boy didn''t get why they said it like that. His abbi wasn''t the rain or anything but that''s what a lot of the servants said when abbi came to visit.


    He had strange feelings about abbi. Sometimes he liked him, especially when abbi praised him or gave him yummy things and cool toys. Abbi gets a lot of things from all around the world and when he feels like it, he gives some to amma or the aunties. He knew that was important but when abbi came that meant less play time with amma.


    "Caspara, take my boy to the second lady. My sweetest treasure, you must behave well for your auntie alright?"


    "Okay amma."


    He liked 2nd auntie because she wasn''t grumpy or scary as the first mothers. He knows it''s because auntie was mother to his sister Daana and not any of his brothers. It''s okay because big sister Daana taught him lots of things and was fun to play with.


    Before his governess could take him out of his amma''s arms, the sounds of wind instruments blare like a baby elephant''s trumpet. The servants'' bows, some to their knees with the heads low, not daring to look up.


    "There is no rush, let him stay a while so I may see him. I only have so many healthy sons."


    "Husband?! You''ve...come so soon. Please forgive this humble servant for not adequately preparing for your arrival."


    "Stand Aishwarya, I do not demand a favored wife of mine to kneel in her own rooms."


    Abbi is in a good mood today. To let him stay and play. But he can''t get too happy because amma always warns him. Even as she bows, amma is warning him without speaking. It''s in how she holds him, in how many jingles her bells make. Amma makes him count and learn all their codes but it''s okay because he can count very high and remember lots.


    His abbi is in a really good mood today because he picks him up with a strong laugh and hugs. Sometimes abbi hugs are nice, his arms feel strong and good. His hands feel nice when they''re not tight around his throat.


    "I see you have tasted the delicacies I''ve granted."


    "Yes husband, we are so thankful for your blessings."


    "If you like them nightingale, that is all that matters. Present three more vats to my esteemed wife Aishwarya. My youngest has done so well lately, yes. I have high hopes."


    He won''t say anything but okays and thanks. If abbi asks him a question then he has to answer but as simply as possible, because that''s what amma taught him. He has to do it if he wants to keep safe and abbi happy. If the answers aren''t nice then he has to lie.


    The better the lies, the happier abba is and amma will be. He''s very good at lying.


    "A reward then, my littlest son. What would you like for a reward?"


    He wants to stop eating things that make him hurt. He wants to stop getting bitten of things that sting and burn and makes his body turn purple or throw up so much that blood comes out. He wants amma to stop shaking and crying when she thinks he is asleep. He wants amma to stop crying for abbi when he doesn''t come or when the strange aunties or mothers come to fight. Amma always wins but it''s annoying. He wants a lot of things. He wants to play with his brothers and sisters freely. He wants no more dead ones.


    "Festival! I want to go to the festival abbi. There''s lots of strange sweets there?"


    Smile. That''s the best way to tell a lie. To sell it, so taught his amma. It almost always works and he''s getting better at reading when.


    It works again because abbi lifts him high and agrees. They''ll all go out as a family to the next festival. That''s fun too so he''ll take it. He''ll take a festival and loads of new sweets that abbi grants. Today there are cookies shaped like stars and whirlpools. The cookies are better than the coins and better yet, they don''t hurt after he eats them.


    But it is so hot today still. It feels heavy and hazy, like a dream in the afternoon.


    He likes sleeping and dreaming, it feels good. It doesn''t hurt as much. But if it''s a day like this, he doesn''t mind being awake.


    Awake


    Wake up


    Wake up


    "Wake up, sssshhh wake up Amar,"


    A boy opens his eyes.


    The air is cold, not hot, and the floor is that of a moldy stone dungeon with no rugs, gardens or even a cushion. Everything smells bad and wrong. Everything hurts, from his stomach to the burning blood still stuck in his throat. For a split second, he considered tearing out the tongue of whoever was dumb enough to wake him when he was in this much pain. He''s a lot grumpier when hurting. A lot less controlled.


    But it was just Yuna, right on time if the moonlight peeking through the bars was right.


    "Fucking shit, not the chains."


    "It''s fine." he croaks, his voice sounding like a dying frog.


    It''s not fine but it''s easier to lie. It will be fine enough soon.


    "Shit just let me break that-"


    "It''s fine. Chains stay on, they have to."


    "Can you even move like that?! Shit-"


    "Sssshhh...there''s only so much time. Vincent can only distract dummy Darius for so long."


    "Shit, yeah yeah I got what you asked for." hissed the older boy, sliding the little packages through the secret gaps that Vincent left.


    The cage looked convincing but there were holes. So many holes. The chains themselves wouldn''t be too hard to unlock. Amar figured that he could probably slip out the arm ones without unlocking a thing but it''s the one on his neck that was troublesome.


    Oh yeah, that''s what got Yuna so mad? He knew the older boy was bad with chains of all kinds, magical and common.


    "It''s fine. It looks worse than it really is. " Amar assured, rummaging through the packs.


    After checking the tools in the right place does he search for something to eat and drink. Can''t ride out poison on an empty stomach, he knows that the hard way.


    "Try saying that when you''re not shaking like a damn leaf you crazy brat."


    "It''s just cold in here...and my body isn''t immune to this one yet."


    "Shit that''s not...just eat. There''s no more plain rice left, some kitchens went crazy on them."


    "Oh...okay."


    Rice worked best but he''ll take what he can get. Whatever helped absorb and purge, he had the herbs and the half cooked antidote Vincent made. His body will handle the rest or he''ll just die here. That simple. It was just another test. So far he''s passed them all.


    There was rice though, cut into neat squares and baked with custard.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "The crazy rice cakes, they''re loaded with them. Georgie seriously told me they ran out of white rice?! They''re not exactly what you asked for but it will still work. Right?"


    "It''s fine. Thanks...go quickly, stay safe." he tells the concerned Yuna, but there''s no time for concern. Just escape.


    Yuna''s not supposed to be here. No one is. Not with the annoying case or whatever it was called. The case Vincent''s master Darius cooked up just to keep him. Adults were so strange with their desires, he doesn''t get it and he doesn''t have to.


    It won''t matter soon, not with Darius and Damia. They were really annoying, even if they gave him poison just like he wanted. They kept making him eat too much though, it really hurt. The blood thing was also weird. But the world was weird.


    His amma lied about this place.


    It''s not his mother''s, this cake. He can get pudding somewhere, can try making it, but it won''t ever taste like that again. In any way she made it. It won''t taste the same without her and she''s one of the dead now too. He''s accepted that for a long time now.


    Too dry, the antidote diffusing water Vincent made tastes beany and bitter. Everything is wrong.


    It''s still sweet though. The cake is still sweet and tasty, the bits of lemon and currants refreshing his too tired senses from his current reality. They won''t be so bad when he has to throw it up later.


    For some reason though, this taste makes him feel like crying.


    Must have been the dream.


    -----

 91 Tastes bland but its good for you.

    "I''m hungry" complains Lukas.


    There''s a floating spoon stuffing gruel into his face as he speaks and he''s still crying about being hungry.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Baaaaacon" calls the hungry child.


    "No bacon." sighs Gable, heating up my sides with a strange device.


    I assume it''s a scanner of some kind. From the lack of concern, it looks like I''m still ''fine''.


    "Meeeeeaaaaat." cries the child again, spoon sticking out of his mouth


    "No fatty meats Lukas." replies Gable, turning sternly. Sternness is ineffective, Lukas is unphased.


    "But meeeeeeeeeeeat."


    "Eat it or don''t Lukas."


    "I can''t grow into a big and strong hero to save everyone without meat," he sounds so stupid, but he whimpers so cutely and pathetically it offsets it.


    "No."


    It must be final for the magic spoon is no more as Gable turns around to personally stabs Lukas in the mouth, with the spoon of course. If you stuff his mouth at a fast enough pace he can''t talk. Other than being mandatorily bedridden, Lukas seems pretty healed up, being as energetic as he is. What a healthy hero in training. Unlike me, I''m still feeling a long lingering mixture of numb and drugged.


    I am essentially hopped up on painkillers.


    Lukas and I have been locked into what I call the isolated sickbay of the garrison. It''s actually late the afternoon after the day of our poisoning incident. That''s two whole nights of unknown events. Though I''ve been unconscious for a good chunk of it.


    According to Gable, our health is a-ok after sleeping so much under his supervision.


    According to the swollen tongue in my mouth and the utter inability to talk more than mumbles, I would say I am not ok at all.


    The only way to express myself is through feeble attempts at violence and or writing. Shakey but legible enough. When I finally woke up and was coherent enough to accept my temporarily silent fate, I wrote down everything I could via paper. But since paper is expensive and inconvenient I have been using the chalk slate.


    From my waving motions, Lukas points and pulls and Gable to stop shoveling gruel at him.


    "Rosa wrote something on the slate again."


    "Is it the ''I''m going to kill him'' again? because we have been over this. "


    "Nooooo I think it says ''feed me too''! Gable when is Cap coming back? Cap is definitely saving Amar and then we gotta feed him lots of meat because now I know why he''s so skinny and this isn''t gonna do anything. I''ll heal faster if we get some meat and then I gotta go beat up some bad guys after Cap mmmpffff argffbbbf. "


    "Eat. Sick little children don''t get to play hero."


    "Mmmpffff grrrr."


    This is unfair. Not only is Lukas getting hand fed by Gable, but he''s not the one with a case of ''shut up'' and ''sleepy'' caramels.


    The candy that Amar spilled all over us was collected and gathered up by grampa. They''re all normal candies apparently, despite all my exclamation marks and chalk accusations. We even fed three or so to both Lukas and grampa. No effect, as seen here right now. They were all normal candies and caramels with no bitterness or salt. I got an extra special one yesterday. One that had nothing to do with the accidental poisoning and everything to do with me not talking. Whoopee me.


    Did I mention it enough yet that I''m going to kill Amar?


    Right after he gets his little neck rescued that is. Oh and after we bring those two blood obsessed creeps to their demise. After I''m done with him I can move on the Vincent, throttle him a bit, get him to bring back Amar and then kill them both again. Yes, a very good plan.


    First, though, that boy really does need to be rescued.


    Lukas and I can do nothing for him as we are, stuck in the sick bay. Lukas may sound spirited and in a much better condition than me but he''s still red faced with a running fever. When he tried going off to ''rescue'' Amar, he couldn''t tell left from right or a door from a wall. If left to feed himself I don''t know if he can tell his mouth from his ear.


    A floating tray with a wooden cup of water and a bowl of healthy mixed lentil and grain gruel makes its way towards me. Seeing a spoon drop in my hand means that Gable trusts me enough to feed myself, unlike the only other child here.


    There should be three of us here, not two. The one who is undoubtedly the most injured and in pain is not us.


    My earlier questions of what happened, of what''s going on was met with controlled smiles and empty assurances that all will be fine.


    Fine.


    Fuck fine.


    No one is ever allowed to say it like that again.


    Not much I can do about it at this moment. Or any time really. I''m a three year old child taken ill and can do nothing but leave this matter entirely to the adults. Which is not very assuring given the history. It''s a matter I know too little about and it sucks. It sucks that I know little to nothing. That I can do nothing.


    My frustrations have nowhere to go but stress eating, which is exactly what Lukas has been mysteriously doing. It''s better than letting him try to break through any more solid walls. The sickbay is pretty magically sturdy.


    Eating is hard given that my tongue feels three the size it''s supposed to be, obviously messing up my sense of taste. It''s not actually that big but I have to chew carefully lest I accidentally bite it again. Nothing feels or tastes right. It''s bland and accompanied by a too complicated sense of guilt. I can''t taste any bitterness but I know there''s no poison in it. I can eat my meals in peace without that knowledge, that fear.


    It''s tough to swallow in more than one way.


    But that''s all we can do. The little boy across the room from me has screamed out enough frustrations for the both of us. Screaming and eating. Can''t grow into a big strong hero on an empty stomach. Can''t save anyone like we are right now.


    There''s a strange event happening today. Some ''council'', more like a meeting of random folks affiliated with the leadership of the troops and general Ventrella lands. How troublesome.


    As much I wished it was, this isn''t some true magical fantasy land but real-life for people. Even a king has those he must answer to and the system that my grampa set up around here involves even more than that.


    Grampa is the founder of the troops. The icon and leader of this entire organization that not only bands under his name but draws fame, power and fortune. I hear that a long time ago it was run entirely by my grampa, with duties delegated to his friends and inner troops. But as everyone either died or got older and drifted away, it couldn''t keep operating on such a basic system. Especially as the camp grew year by year.


    I''m not kidding when I say it resembles a military university, from size to structure.


    Then there''s what I could call a certain part of the ''court''. It''s partly related to the court that''s my father''s day job, or at least what should be his day job.


    I wonder what that nerd is doing right now? Has he even noticed I''m gone or did grampa come up with another good enough cover story? As strange as my current relations are with my parents I don''t think they would take well to ''nearly poisoned to death''.


    Well, that''s if they ever found out.


    Which given father''s information network at his day job....chances are actually quite high. I''m doomed, aren''t I?


    They''re entirely different systems taking this technological backward world and noble caste system into account but if I could compare it to the political systems of countries in my modern knowledge, then grampa has founded a republic. It''s not a full democracy but a lot more relaxed than a constitutional monarchy. There are checks and balances in and around Ventrella territory to keep anyone from really holding too much power but it''s not as effective against further nobles who act as they always have.


    That and for the most part, people tend to just fall on their knees when grampa enters the room. Don''t know how to check against that.


    Our Ventrella lands, as large as it is, runs similar to a classic noble fiefdom with my family as the overlords. There are no kings or queens to report to when we''re at the top of the chain. Yet it has nothing to do with royalty. There are kingdoms with their traditional royal families on our land borders yes. More of them the further we go if my lessons are to believed.


    There are many people in many places, either appointed by my father or grampa. Those people then appoint other people, such as uncle Geoff. Some parts are a lot more like a company than a political system, especially the troops which run on a much simpler but military-based organization.


    While father has been cooped up with internal building projects as of late, his real duty is as a sort of external liaison that can not only unify the local community leaders under grampa''s territory but act in Ventrella''s best interest against other ''lords'' or even neighboring royals. What a strange state we are.


    A part of me wishes it were simpler so we can get to the chop chop, but I understand the need.


    Another part of me is sneering because well, fair trial smair trial. I was ganged up on and essentially mugged to death by noblemen''s sons in another life. What justice?


    Ah but this isn''t so much about justice as it is about appearances right? Politics and public relations? It''s not the good old fashioned days in grampa''s prime youth where one could just freely chop chop anything you dislike. Okay, you can still but no one should know about it.


    Apparently creepy hoody has connections and enough people to miss him, minor noble house or whatever. That and grampa is already too well known for chop chop or just general violence. No more senseless chop chops if we wish to be left operating in peace. Another one of my father''s specialties I suppose, making things look good and presentable from our side.


    "Are they done yet?! When will they be done?!" mumbles Lukas even with his mouth full, not minding the choking hazard.


    "It depends, Lukas. I can''t say when it will finish, how exactly how." Gable answers simply, but a tinge of dissatisfaction laces his voice.


    "Why is only Cap there and not you too Gable?! Cap is super cool and awesome but you talk smarter and if this is another adult talk in a big locked room then I think you sound scarier. Cap can be super scary but you''re scarier Gable but that''s ok because that''s your super power and I still like you lots so you should go be scary to someone else like over there."


    "...thank you Lukas."


    "So why aren''t you there beating people up?! I can be good and not move and eat all by myself and if I''m not Rosa can just hit me with pillows. Why does she have so many pillows?! You don''t have to worry about us...."


    Ow ow ow cuteness and sad attack, ow ow ow implied pain and mental anguish. Very effective move Lukas, he doesn''t even need to try. But the signs of true worry and concern cracks at all of us. I''m also curious why someone of Gable''s status and eloquence isn''t in this ''court'' but there''s always some messy story to accompany cases like these.


    Something in me says it''s related to why, despite being grampa''s very best friend and closest companion, he didn''t appear in my last run as Rosalia. Or why he''s not involved in the troops at all when it''s clear that it''s his magic and influence that built this place.


    It''s sad. Everyone has such messy stories underneath the surface.


    "For many reasons Lukas....I can''t be there, not a good idea. Despite appearances, Ronald is more than capable but...it''s complicated."


    There''s that sad smile on Gable''s handsome face again. At the sight of it, I can feel myself falling deeper into the pit of depression. That is until Lukas instantly messes up the mood by spooning Gable''s perfect clean face. Just grabs the full spoon and u-turns into right into Gable''s teeth, much to his surprise.


    The shoveling that Lukas just received he''s giving back aa good as he got. Except his aim is really too exceptional, there''s gruel all over Gable''s shocked and mortified face. Definitely a spoonful stuck in his no longer pristine hair.


    Lukas you....Just how does this child''s brain operate?


    "Boring, adults like complicated things too much! Okay dokey then if you can''t do anything either then don''t feel bad. You eat too so you can get big and strong and stuff. I''m a hero too so I know what I''m saying Gable! When you''re all okay to battle we go battle and help Cap out! You get better first or everyone is gonna worry and then we''re gonna cry and then we can''t go save anyone else. So eat a lot, wait for Cap and don''t worry! "


    "....I see."


    The shock of those simple words, that or getting a sudden gruel facial, has Gable still as a wall. It takes him quite some time to even conjure a wet towel to wipe the gunk off his face, let alone discipline Lukas like he so desperately needs.


    "Oh and Rosa wrote something again! It says ...I can''t read that word! Gable help!"


    I can''t speak but I can write. It''s like a bad sitcom comic and I''m the character that has to have signs held up. It''s a little messy to keep up ok? Especially at Luka''s talking speed. Someone give him a weird drugged up caramel.


    Fine, let''s keep things simple. Taking my time to keep my words neat and spell check worthy.


    ''He''s right. Don''t worry. I believe in you guys.''


    "Oh I can read that! Of course I''m right! See Rosalia says so too! You definitely helped and we''re going to save Amar. It would just be a lot faster if you grown ups didn''t like making things all confusing ''complicates''!"


    "...I suppose so," Gable graces us with a small smile, a hint of relief. He must have his own troubles, his own feelings of helplessness.


    ''Is Amar there?'' I scribble.


    "Is Amar where?!" reads out Lukas in response.


    He doesn''t need to narrate everything so loudly but seeing that he''s only a child, I suppose he does. Gable understands well enough to answer, but it takes him a moment to decide if he should grace us with that sort of info. If we should even be privy to it. But that just makes the worry worse.


    ''Please.''


    I can''t speak but I can use puppy eyes. I feel like there''s really no need to, the sadness that prevails through both Lukas and I is more than effective. We must look pathetic, I certainly feel like it. But pathetic works, pathetic makes Gable give.


    "Yes. Yes that child is there right now."


    That''s good. He didn''t just poof into thin air with Vincent. Those two were most definitely up to something, but what? And why stay under Darius'' watch? What was it that Vincent was talking about?


    Too many questions, never enough answers. This little life of mine keeps adding on these questions. I suppose it''s my fault for asking in the first place.


    ''Is he ok?''


    Gable takes a deep breath and I know that no matter what he says the answer is no. There''s no way he can be ok.


    "Health-wise...he''s stable. Coherent."


    Half lies that pass off as a truth, it''s a safer answer without much to infer if one didn''t know the situation. This in itself is very public relations approved answer and thus nowhere near enough for me.


    At least he''s awake. He''s not actually dead. The black nosebleed and fainting were very dramatic and very concerning given that it''s reality and not some made up show. I miss my boring mundane life as a relatively normal toddler already.


    "That doesn''t mean anything! Amar lies really good!" whines Lukas, also unsatisfied and tugging on Gable''s sleeve.


    "Lukas. Rosalia, I know you''re concerned. Just trust...that it will be ok."


    That''s what grampa said last time at strike one of child abuse featuring Amar, so no.


    "But one time Amar broke his foot right in front of me and I didn''t know till after and I trusted him when he said it was ok but it wasn''t!" argues Lukas in his own convincing way. "Oh more Rosa words...good question, me too!"


    ''What is he even doing there?''


    I don''t think he''s there to testify on the horrors of his life here. I don''t think that''s how courts are even run here.


    He and Vincent are up to something, something that prevents them from just booking it the hell away. I don''t even have a hint of what it is and I don''t trust them. Who knows what weird plans abused kids come up with?


    "They...need to verify. Darius claims, the poison, the amount and the length of time...Amar''s blood."


    I don''t want to think about how one goes about testing those things to a court. I don''t want to because there''s nothing Gable can do if he''s sitting here, thus nothing I can do either. This sucks.


    ''The curry?'' my hand erases and scratches in chalk quickly.


    "Oh the yummy painful thing that hurts! Can I eat that again without all that bleah bleh bleaarg owie ow?"


    Almost everything that Lukas says makes Gable draw a sigh, silent or not. Once in a while, he looks up to the heavens as if praying for a higher deity to give him strength. If this wasn''t such a troubling topic I would be much more amused. Without trying, the mood lightens naturally. Why didn''t the stupid prince get even a little bit of this level of funny? Well, that''s Lukas for you.


    I agree, can the next time we enjoy curry be without any bleh bleh ow ow poison and possibly death? I still need to kill Amar over keeping curry a secret too. Wow, his list of offenses keeps growing the more I think about it.


    Again, let''s not think about it too much. Instead let''s think happy thoughts, like revenge. Stirring. Possibly extreme violence. No child abuse of course, there''s been quite enough of that, but a lot of re-education and stirring. All happy thoughts.


    "Yes...the pot was very helpful. We''ll use that information well. Thank you, Rosalia. It was very smart of you to grab that evidence while you could." thanks Gable sincerely.


    I nod simply because there''s no way I''m telling anyone I took that thing to eat later. That was before the whole....incident.


    ''Do my parents know? Is my father there?''


    Gable nods and that''s all I get. Well, that settles that question from earlier. I can expect a major grounding from my mother soon. I hate being treated like a kid and left in the dark though. Even though I''m the eldest child to this overbearing household, even if I have cheat memories of the future, I''m still so useless.


    Such a gathering wouldn''t pass by my father, even if it''s troop''s affairs. It involves too many mixed members of his court if it''s anything like I''m imagining. There are also people involved that aren''t necessarily part of the Ventrella land.


    Hoody and his hag sister may be part of the research department but they own land and property elsewhere. It''s not uncommon. Unfortunately, they have support and merit from the outside. No quick and satisfying chop chop, any revenge has to be carefully played and planned in this system. Real-life is too complicated, in any world.


    Is it bad that I don''t have high hopes for the system in this world either?


    It''s frustrating.


    There''s a part of me, something shared with the original Rosalia, that''s never satisfied. Especially in regards to other people. No matter how many people I would ''punish'' it never felt like it was enough. Flogging? Dungeons? How juvenile.


    It would be satisfying to an extent yes but then what? In modern times we have ''jail'' and actual prison sentences. The death penalty wasn''t so popular but it existed. Here too, and it''s definitely popular. That in itself is satisfying in a different more lasting way. There''s a lot of moral debate but it''s simple in how it can bring people peace.


    Yet a part of me burns that it''s not enough. Too many guilty criminals never pay in full for their sins. If they get caught at all. They rarely hurt even fraction of what their victims do and it''s not fair. Life isn''t fair.


    Ah, I''m getting too personal again. Out of control, underwhelmingly helpless, lashing out. The useless feelings do nothing productive, rather they contribute in turning me into a more bitter and hateful sort of person.


    I sigh and push away at my tasteless food. I sigh and roll around my little allotted sick bed, unable to bear with myself. Gable is preoccupied with Lukas, the boy honestly acting out and coping in his own ways. A real child being comforted.


    When they''re side by side like this you could easily mistake them as father and son. A real family, how nice.


    I push and pack down at the annoying voice inside me trying to make a point. How dare it try coming out because I''m sick and feeling bad. Stupid old dreams, stupid Amar and his childish attempt at a goodbye speech. Seriously what was that? Brain-damaged ramblings obviously.


    The Ventrella family is a strange bunch, weirder and warmer the more I uncover about them. However, they''re not mine. I can see where a child from the outside may see it as a good or loving thing but I know the truth. They''re not mine. Caring too much is dangerous. Love is dangerous, love kills.


    I don''t need it.


    I don''t need anything as silly as comfort or such when I''m sick. It''s nice but I don''t need it. I''ve lived more than one lifetime without it. I''m fine-..... I want tofu stew and banana milk. Yeah...that''s it. Want and not need.


    ''I want mom'' whispers a small voice inside me, one that sounds nothing like Rosalia. How stupid of me. But my mom is not coming. Even if we still existed in the same world...mom wouldn''t come that easily. She wouldn''t come for me.


    "Ohohohohoho! Papa you''re so silly! Now where is my Rosa? My my my are you in here Rosa dear?"


    A ridiculous ojou-sama laugh, right out of a cliche series, makes an abrupt scratching dj sound in my head. Wait what?


    Mother?!


    The door, which if I recall correctly, is barricaded under layers of magical and physical reinforcements so no super-powered brats can even scratch it, slams open with a great bang.


    What lies behind the door is possibly, no absolutely, the most terrifying thing I have seen in my little life.


    Like a cross between a battering ram and a limp doll, grampa is half slung from the ground. He looks exhausted but still pandering in that way only Lilyanne or mother can reduce him to. His limp body is held up only by my mother''s delicate gloved hand under his shoulder like he slumped down and was dragged around in escorting her.


    Today she''s dressed in a splendid full and flowing gown of embroidered red and gold, complimenting her radiant skin and hair. Such luxurious hair is fully done up and extravagantly veiled in braids, twists, and jewels, very modestly proper for a married lady to be seen in public yes. That train of her outer skirt, those bunched up layers on the sleeves. A very gorgeous splash of red all about.


    Except for the obvious... that red....is not originally part of the dress.


    "Ohohoho found you darling! Oh my poor baby, you must be feeling awful but you should not be going about eating strange things! Gable thank you so much for tending to her. Oh these poor little dears! This is no place for children, yes it''s quite time to go home! "


    There is red on my mother''s face that is not rogue or lip paint, yet she smiles so serenely. Like a holy mother of some religious figure. A sight for sore eyes is underselling it, a beautiful blood-splattered mother is man handling grampa across the grounds to find me.


    Oh no.


    Oh no no no, I''m in so much trouble and there is no escape. What is she doing here? She can''t capture me yet, Lukas and I are still sick in here and there''s still the matter of Amar...


    There is something shivering like a terrified little dog behind the layers of mother''s shawl, well into the crook of her other arm.


    Amar, bedraggled as he is, has an extremely lost and confused look to him behind all the shivering. As if he can not compute what is going on, let alone decide if he likes it or not. He looks traumatized, far more than any reaction I''ve seen yet. Quick eyes dart between every person in the room, trying to find an escape from my mother''s hold. The shaking intensities when he registers just exactly where he is and who is facing.


    Oh goodie.


    "Gable dear you must see to the poor sweet child, little Amar was trapped in an awfully tight space and couldn''t get out! Oh it was horrid, I had to crack it open and no one would lend a hand to a frail lady? Can you believe it? Oh but enough there, I believe there are stingers still caught in him!"


    Grampa falls with a relieved thud as mother uses both hands to hold up the scrawny creature like one would hold a puppy dog. She fully goes right up the Gable with a ''look look'' expression in her moist doe eyes.


    Everyone''s eyes go to the ''stingers'', skinny torn black tubes still dripping occasionally in what can only be blood. They look like they''ve been ripped and torn off violently. The ends are stuck with blood drawing needles, similar to what I''ve seen used on Vincent. The problem is that they''re embedded still in Amar''s arms and the side of his neck, making three in total.


    Did my mother carry him here all this way like this? With a giant needle in his neck?


    Said needle is the first one Gable gets to carefully removing. All of Amar''s feeble attempts at escaping my mother''s puppy hold are futile though.


    Good, he still has the energy to try to escape.


    "Oh men are such uncivilized uncouth creatures these days, not like my Frederick darling. I wanted to say it hasn''t changed one bit here but I have been proven wrong, it''s even worse! Oh Gabbey you should have seen the way they stared at me booo hooo hooo. It was so cruel and uncomfortable for anyone let alone a lady booo hooo. "


    "....I see. Maria...you attended....was this...mid court?"


    "Mid? Oh it was so terribly long, it felt like days in the span of the morning! If that was mid. I do sob for Frederick darling who must stay to the end. I simply couldn''t take it. Of course, no one could blame a lady for suddenly needing to leave. On my way out I happen to find poor cute little dimples here so unfortunately trapped. Oh children do play in the strangest things. Right in the middle of the room too! Right Papa?"


    By this time grampa has pulled himself off up the floor and poured himself his second mug of water from the nearby pitcher.


    "Yes Maria dear, the strangest things." he stiffly laughs.


    Over my mother''s lightly laughing head I can see the silent eye contact that grampa and Gable must be having a telepathic conversation over. From Gable, there is another too tired fake grin while grampa makes all sorts of strange hand motions and facial expressions. A pantomime of the day''s events that somehow Gable can understand.


    "But the most horrendous thing was how no one would do anything about but talk. It wasn''t even any good talk." cutely whines my mother, making tearing eyes at Gable as he works and patching up Amar.


    As if she were a spoiled little maiden rather than a married woman with two kids. It''s unquestionably terrifying for all the wrong reasons. The blood splatter doing everything to make the high pleasing tone in her voice more than threatening.


    "I don''t recall it being so awful." threatening and strangely wistful.


    It''s not just Amar shivering in here. I don''t even know why I''m so scared! I just am? Even Gable can''t stop a slight tremor. Mother what did you do?!


    "Well that''s enough of that nonsense! It''s been a long tiring day and I do need a rest, perhaps some tea and refreshments. Rosalia, have you been behaving for Gable and eating well? Rosa?" questions my mother, smile getting all the colder at my lack of a timely response.


    The chalk snaps in my fear and haste to write out excuses.


    ''I can''t talk. Tongue broken.''


    "Oh dear, my poor baby girl! That''s it, time to go home where you can get a much sounder rest and recuperation! Oh you must have suffered! Poison! Oh hohoho mama remembers what that was like.~"


    Grampa? Gable? Why is my mother so weird and scary?


    "Home is best, where there''s much better rest and recuperation."


    "....Of course Maria, buttercup. Rosalia just needs time and few more options to offset the discomfort and side effect but there''s no issue for her to head home. I really should be seeing to the children but I can stop to check up-"


    "Oh why Gable dear don''t be a stranger! Not you of all people! Oh no no no, this is not the place for children at all. There should be no worries! They can all come!"


    There''s no room for arguments, nor time. Not with my mama.


    Seeing that Amar had been wrapped up in fresh bandages, though he is far from healed, she instantly tucks him back into the crook of her arm. The boy still too shocked and traumatized to figure out what''s going on, let alone fight it. He is after all, most likely brain damaged and suffering from some serious anemia.


    Then, like she''s picking eggs or puppy dogs mother plops up a still feverishly pink Lukas, stacking him against the middle against her chest, careful not to let him crush the smaller child. Which is ineffective since Lukas fully glomps onto the other boy in feverish relief and glee. Then proceeds to talk his ear off.


    Last is me, right into her other arm. I don''t even fight it. It''s futile. Best to play cute and stretch my tiny arms out in exaggerated need and put on the watery puppy dog eyes. Yes, that will save me, or at least offset the punishment waiting for me.


    "Oh hohoho mama misses you too Rosa dear."


    It''s another puppy pile, not much unlike grampa''s usual style when carrying all three of us at once. I must admit though mother''s bosom is must more comfortable to rest on. Soft, warm and oddly safe, blood splatter and all.


    "There there now little ones, be good~ " mother sing songs and she bounces us off, probably to the carriage.


    Of course, I''m good mother. I can be so very good especially now that I can''t talk.


    I can''t talk and I dropped my writing slate but there''s still the universal body language. Across from me in my mother''s surprisingly sturdy arms I force eye contact with Amar, who I still blame for all of this.


    Lukas babbles on about everything the other still shivering child may have missed and while I just stare and be good for mother, nothing but all smiles. With one hand I make a slow dragging motion across my neck and point straight at him though.


    For some odd reason, that makes Amar shake even more. Prompting him to bury himself behind Lukas and further into my mother where he was once trying to escape from.


    Hey hey hey don''t be scared. I don''t believe in child abuse, just a bit of fairness. Why are you acting like I''m the scary one?


    Hey! Don''t fake being asleep!


    "Ohohoho looks like this year''s spring trip to the capital for our Rosalia must be postponed. Oh health comes first. Perhaps we should cancel it? Well, we''ll see what Frederick darling has to say. Oh hohohoho~ Rest up now little ones!"


    -------

 92 Hiccups

    I believe I may have to reassess what I know about the woman I call mother.


    Beauty and grace yes, an ideal noblewoman, also yes. The belle of the ball, at every ball. Maria Ventrella is a fair and delicate lady that commands the room with nothing but a flutter of her gazelle length eyelashes.


    Yet something tells me that perhaps that the Ventrella''s household''s unfounded fear of mother isn''t so unfounded after all. I don''t know if I even want to know.


    It''s like opening a door in a scary movie. Maybe it''s best left alone. Let''s think about it at a later time when I''ve gathered more strength and courage. It can''t be all that bad right? My previous knowledge can''t be all that wrong. Eh another day, this is a problem for future Rosalia. All is kinda well now right?


    In all my years as Rosalia Therese Ventrella, I have never seen my parents argue.


    Play fight yes. Suspiciously and grossly flirt, also yes.


    Occasionally they get serious over some topic but they don''t necessarily argue. If mother is mad then father plays dumb in that overly blunt way of his. If father is mad then...I don''t know? Isn''t he too busy either running away or fawning after mother? It feels a little one way but it seems to work for them. Has father ever gotten mad at mother?


    I''ll ruin their marriage with those questions at a later time.


    I would assume they have their moments like any other couple. Perhaps away from my young eyes. There''s a lot of things they should keep away from my eyes, ew ew ew.


    Either way, father does not win on the curious case of the kidnapped poisoned kiddies in the Ventrella nursery sickbay. Mother had somehow taken not only me but the boys hostage. The ultimate grounding called rest and recuperation.


    Our prison, not of choice, is the nearly white sick room high up in this nearly unused corner of my home.


    It''s this very room where I can recall Lilyanne being holed up in throughout her delicate childhood. These clean marbling, the smooth white plaster and warm sandstone. Everything peaceful and minimal, to ease the senses and relax the occupants. I think it could use some houseplants and a lot more pillows but hey that''s my personal taste. It''s not like I''m ever here.


    The view from the windows is lovely, encompassing the southern gardens. Over those garden gates, across the opulent yards, hedges and the outer walls from our home''s vantage point, you can make out the road that leads to the sea. In the far off distance, you might be able to see any approaching visitors, if anyone ever came from that way. Anyone but the seaport shipments, so no.


    In any other season, the frosted glass doors would open to the Luni marble balcony, where one could enjoy the most refreshing of breeze. It''s the most isolated and safeguarded direction of our beautiful home. The strongest walls to surround this not exactly princess tower, located on the 5th floor from the main courtyard.


    There is little to no threat from this side, little to no company. It is here where one can enjoy the white peace and quiet needed to heal.


    There is no escape.


    "I have to go poop now." squeaks the little boy next to me.


    There is one escape.


    Wait no, I am not falling for this one. There''s a lot that both Lukas and I want to grill Amar on but he''s only been recently given the ok to be free from Gable''s examination. I thought about using Lilyanne''s magic treatment here, perhaps give Gable a first-hand view of just what she can do, but magic isn''t the answer for everything.


    Amar is also very adamant about not getting too much internal treatment. He''ll take the bandages, care and something to speed up recovery but no health potions or anything. A lot of head shaking at any silent suggestions of Lilyanne''s magic. It''s odd seeing him be that stubborn on something but there''s been a lot of odd things lately.


    The lying for one, though I suppose that has always been there, unnoticed.


    I can''t talk just yet without sounding like a muppet so I take to threateningly pinching and glaring, or at least as threateningly as I can muster. I''m only three, how scary can I be?


    These cheeks are not fun to pinch or stretch out, unfortunately. Nowhere near an acceptable amount of mochi on them.


    "I really have to go?" Amar tries with a mumble.


    "....."


    Hmmm well, I can''t verify that and you really can''t keep kids from the call of nature. Thus I release Amar''s pathetic excuse of a cheek to reach over him and smack Lukas awake with a pillow. Normally that''s a lot of effort but it''s quite easy in our half dozed recovering state. Feverish Lukas is less energetic yet still just as amusing.


    "Wafaa wha wab what?!"


    I use the pillow to defend against any sudden wild attack of little limbs, but something still smacks at me. More so at Amar, who''s placed in the middle. In order to guard even further against escape, which the boy is obviously planning since the beginning, Lukas and I have taken to blocking both sides of the bed. It''s genius no? Not the guards stationed outside, or Gable''s secret surveillance, or even the threat of my mother''s looming presence. Obviously it''s Lukas and I in all our squishy that are the most effective safeguards yes.


    Fine we just don''t trust this kid alone. It''s all good, the adult sized bed is more than big enough, it''s far bigger than my own usual bedding. Geez, the past Lilyanne sure must have had a fun time stretching on this giant mattress.


    "Lukas it''s fine, you can go back to sleep? I can go on my own."


    "Go where? No! Where are you going now?"


    "Pooping?"


    "But I don''t need to poop right now and I eat lots more so if I don''t gotta go then you don''t gotta go."


    "But I gotta go, and Rosa over there won''t let me."


    Denied. Permissions denied as I make to wack both boys with the spare pillow. They get extra wacks to wake up and shut up respectively.


    It''s night time now and the usual maids are asleep. With a sleepy but stubborn yawn Lukas grabs Amar like a teddy bear to roll off the bed. It''s very cute how they tumble and roll off like one little log. When they plop on the floor, Amar has to direct a sleepy Lukas on how to even get to the closest bathroom.


    I love my rich person''s house. No chamber pots needed. I love basic indoor plumbing.


    It''s tempting to just fall back asleep but I settle for snuggling back down in the warm spots in the sheets. The winter night air is still quite cold. It''s been a strange couple of days and with my current health scare, it appears that my family''s visit to the capital will have to be postponed indefinitely. My greatest hope is that it''s canceled altogether. One less year of playing nice with the stupid baby Prince!


    There also isn''t much anything for me to do up there? Not at my age, I''m a toddler. Mother has social functions to attend and noble relations to maintain while father can ''work'' in courts but me? I can''t even go off anywhere without maids breathing down my little throat. I rather they leave me on the farms or something. So much work to do there before the next wave of famine. Is it this year? The next coming winter?


    Time and memory is hard when the original Rosalia was so young then.


    The original huh, what would she think about this mess that I''ve gathered in those short years. I don''t think any toddler has to deal with even a quarter of what I do. So troublesome. At least I''m not sitting around bored. I''ll allow myself that much.


    I''m half up out of bed again with the loud slam of Lukas meets wall from the other side of where the ''bathroom'' is. Muffled childish voices can still be heard this short distance away.


    "Lukas...the door is this way?"


    "I know!" *smack*


    "Here, put me down? Now thiiiissss way."


    Finally, in the correct direction and through the door, Lukas charges towards to big bed with a teddy bear Amar flying in his unnaturally strong grip. The night air really is chilly especially when you''re barefoot and wearing nothing but a single layer.


    Mother ordered it but I''m not sure how the servants managed to wrangle up some nice chemises in the primary schoolers'' sizes on such short notice. They''re essentially running around in fluttery slightly too long off white dresses tied at the neckline with child sturdy drawstring and ribbons. It''s very cute.


    As expected of mother''s expensive taste. Cuteness shall rule all.


    "Cold cold cold" chatters Lukas, throwing Amar up the bed with a little bounce before crawling under the covers himself.


    I smack them a distance away with the pillow.


    "We washed our hands?" shivers Amar correctly, still looking entirely lost on the situation.


    I don''t know exactly the whole story with him but if I was in his shoes or well chemise, I probably would be the same. But there''s nothing that we as little children can do but stay healthy and out of the way. He''s already too involved as a child abuse victim no? With that thought I put down the pillow weapon and instead push a wooden cup of water by the bedside.


    It''s either take it or keep getting hit in the face with it so Amar has little choice to accept. He tries passing it off to Lukas but is met with a ''no thanks'' before the other boy smacks the cup into Amar''s mouth, admittedly splashing a bit.


    There''s too much to think about. Too much going on under the surface of what I know and what I don''t know. But it''s night time now and I''m only so big and able to do. There''s nothing that little children can do for now but to go to sleep.


    Lukas stuffs us together with his shivering and it''s cold. The puppy pile is too cold right now even with layers of blankets and life is too hard and confusing. So while we still can, let''s just all go back to bed.


    If Amar wants to stay up wide eyed and confused in the dark, well that''s his problem. Lukas is already back to snoozing and soon so will I. My closest sleeping companion is too bony but pillows help, yes lots of soft pillows. Tomorrow we''ll eat some of Lukas bacon and another time we''ll work whatever this is all out.


    Before I really fall asleep I feel it as Amar steals one of my many precious pillows. I''ll let it go though. He''s got a light case of the hiccups, trying to smother it and keep deathly quiet as not to disturb. Stupid, who gets hiccups in the middle of the night. Must have drunk water too fast. That''s the excuse I make up for him.


    Good night then, hiccups and all.


    ----------


    -----


    "What then? He just goes free?"


    "Exile is not freedom."


    "A free man walks. The best we can do is let him walk?"


    "Taking his head does nothing but harms your case. It will hurt you more than them."


    "How does it hurt me more if I just cut off his head?"


    "Ron. Stop. For Maria and the girls, it will hurt them. In the long run, it hurts your family, it hurts us."


    Ronald is not a happy camper, even if Gable speaks in technical truth. They are not his truths. He dislikes getting older and restrained, he disliked playing by rules to a game made up by the weak. He dislikes broken promises and holding back.


    The veteran hero feels the call the violence as easily as he breathes. Feels it and can''t do a thing in this space, this cage, that feels far too small. But that is what civilization is, a cage, a home. It keeps one warm despite it all. Keeps one safe from the elements, lets children sleep in peace.


    The drawing room is not actually so small. A bit cluttered with bookcases and wall mounts, decor and the such, but not small. To a common man, it was enough for him, his family and perhaps a few livestock to cozily fit and live in.


    It was nothing compared to the void of the seas or the vast stars the reflected from above. Yet it has a comfortable fire, plush seats and fine wine and boxes of rolled smokes.


    Ronald could feel himself grow old, grow soft.


    Across the room Gable allows Ronald''s son in law''s manservant to pour a refill to his horn cup. To the brim. Alfonso was an odd sort of old chap. A man of his caliber could be so much more than a self-proclaimed butler but Ronald understands.


    You get old. You get soft. Some day will come where he too will be content to simply watch the young carry on.


    It was nowhere near that day, not for him.


    "We can''t use that." says his son in law solemnly, downing the rest of his glass.


    "No," agrees Gable. "We can''t. The goal is the keep silent on that matter. No leakage of parentage, the ban is still in effect. "


    "Well the Moracz witch and her brother found out just fine, do you suppose they discovered it before or after the blood harvesting? My what an effective ban, it worked on the wrong crowd. How long do you suppose I would have taken to find out if my own child wasn''t so delightfully contaminated?" snarked the red head.


    When he rolled his eyes that far, he resembled his daughter. Or rather it was Rosalia, small as she was, that was the spitting image of the detached and imperious young lord Ventrella. Maybe not in exact features but Maria seemed to have somehow succeeded in creating a tiny second Frederick. Ronald, of all people, doesn''t bother thinking about the how. Some things were better off lets to fate. Some things you could never be drunk enough to figure out.


    That''s one thing Ronald always liked Freddy on, boy could handle his drink and got even mouthier. Always could tell a man''s true self by the kind of drunk he is.


    "We can''t use it and we keep their mouths shut." repeats Gable, nowhere near as composed as he sounds.


    "That can be arranged easily, but you can''t punish them with much more. Without that evidence, you can charge him with nothing. If the children refuse to speak up then we have little to back claims against consent. The necromancer is already of adult age and won''t make his stake. Meanwhile, wife as stowed away the quiet young one, destroying evidence on both sides in her wake." Frederick seethed.


    The calm expressionless face was off set by the pacing across the room. He talked with his hands, his body, gesturing into the air with his just refilled glass sloshing about. No worries of course, Frederick wouldn''t spill a drop.


    "We can''t afford the reputation. I know you find it foolish, utter nonsense, but if the Ventrella territory is to be left in peace from the melodramatic comedy that is the noble courts and church, we cannot allow any more unjustifiable executions. The bastard knows it. Make it bloody, make it cruel, but you can''t let people know and this has already gotten too large. "


    "Tell me Freddy. Do they still say the same things?" asked Ronald, relishing in the painful pleasant burn of liquor.


    If one couldn''t go burning the fields of men, the cabinets his son in law kept for him would have to do. Nothing as good and wasteful as drinking fine spirits when angry. Maybe later he could convince Gable to let him out to hunt. Something, big, roaring and satisfying enough. He can''t say he''s as easy to please as his gentle only daughter.


    "They don''t dare."


    "Do their woman? Behind their fine doors and under the woven furs bought from us, do they still say I am a barbarian who only knows how to leave destruction? "


    "Ron." Gable tries to stop him talking. Fat chance after he got some drink in him,


    "Do they still not understand who is it that affords them their winter peace and wine? How keeps the magical spots contained and the worst beasts at bay? Do they not sit upon their fine crapshoots of thrones and all sleep in soft beds without fear?"


    "That''s absolutely absurd father. The kings and monarchs of lands further than our neighbors'' neighbors and beyond the seas all take the knee before you."


    "Ah yes the bowing, they sure love doing that. While their queens and consorts laugh like a herd of bottom ring hyenas trying to intimidate a lion. What''s the latest thing they''re saying about my Maria? I''ve always been bad at such talks and topics. Did she wear the wrong god damn colored stockings or the improper amount of skirts again and thus suddenly unworthy of her born title? "


    "They don''t dare." repeated Frederick, his tone getting increasingly frigid, the cold of the void. The same kind of cold that''s associated with the dead.


    "You can''t make them all disappear Freddy boy. Good effort, I appreciate the work you do, how you take care of my little girl. But we have always known the worsts of it. The ''dirty'' unknown upstart spawn of a violent barbarian who got lucky. Yet when trouble arises it''s to me and my family they come begging to. Bah."


    "Ronald, that''s enough." glares Gable, he was always the most sensitive about bad talk.


    Ronald knows, understands more than he lets on. Not only on himself but whenever it touched on Maria he would get vicious. Even if Ronald cared shit about what they said, he knows how much it hurts others.


    "Fools will talk amongst themselves. It comforts them in their own incompetence and lacking." Frederick walks and talks, looking over his piles of papers, oh so messily organized by his man Alfredo.


    "Without strength, all they can do is talk. With no offense Freddy, but you''re the traitorous Biccheiri boy that broke all that is right and proper to join us. The blacked sheep led away, seduced by all that is Ventrella."


    At that his son gives a snort into his drink, nearly choking on it.


    "It''s a little late to admit that yes I very much was seduced? I''ve given you your grandchildren... In all my life I''ve made no vows but you, Maria and our family Lord Father. "


    Ronald was more than restless. They all were but him especially. He doesn''t do well with playing the games of old money and long inherited power. They had no warriors and no honor.


    He may be a scoundrel of a general, a fighter above all else, but a man had his pride and the rulers of this world had none he respected. That''s partly why it was just so damn easy to destroy them. Like anything though it was easy to break, and terribly difficult to build.


    "So he walks free. To keep my Maria''s reputation, the blood-drinking maniacs walk free."


    Gable sighs in response, not for the first time and not for the last.


    "It''s my fault." he starts before Ronald has him cut off just as sudden.


    "No it''s not."


    "Fuck, of course it damn is. I approved of Darius work."


    "His past and proposed. He went too far, he went behind our backs."


    "We let him play with the dead Ronald! There''s a reason why we''re heralded as maniacs and now this!"


    "Oh everyone uses corpses, they''re everywhere! We just have the most accurate and advanced research because we don''t hide it. They can call me and my troops what they will but we don''t have to smuggle and steal our dead."


    With a wave of a gentleman''s hand and a silent but swift Alfonso, the rising voices between the two men halt as a scroll unfurls between them.


    "Lord Father is correct honorable sir Gable, everyone uses corpses despite their claims of denial. Whether it''s legal in their lands or not. Medical research, teaching aids, plain perversion. Even decoration, there''s a morbidly fascinating temple to the south that is constructed entirely of human bones. A not so small amount of men use the living as well."


    The rules on what is or is not taboo are as ridiculous as it is confusing here. The dead were dead and so long as the corpses weren''t straight out looted from their proper graves, Ronald saw no problem. His own memories of another universe was far from perfect but this world was still backward in so many ways and Ronald doubts even 7 lifetimes would be enough to smack them into something that made sense. They used beasts and animal bones, but touch upon the empty shell of man and people got squeamish. As if they weren''t fine with ending said men''s lives on the battlefield or over petty ego slaps called duels.


    "That said- the laws and attitudes of using living or dead is...split to say the least. The only way to keep that brat''s story quiet is to silence this case...and that means silencing Darius on the matter." continues Frederick, trying to wrap up.


    "He won''t let go of his research so easily" agrees Gable with another point, uncomfortable even on the soft leather recliner.


    "Neither will the hag Damia. Exile is the most we can reach without further evidence. My darling wife can handle that side on the ladies'' functions but it will take time with their distance and the status her late husband affords. Darius however? Even I can''t stand for something like a mere exile but there''s little we can immediately do in the public eye."


    "We need him silent," repeats Gable.


    "He''d be silent if he were dead" pipes up Ronald, more out of stubbornness than sense.


    Gable stuffs his mouth with a handful of grapes all at once. That is not how he likes being fed or comforted, but it keeps his mouth occupied he supposes.


    "Let him go." says Frederick, contradicting his entire earlier speech.


    That what the boy does when he has a plan, when he''s out for the long game. No, not a boy, not for a long time now. The little devil of a boy that would play running and screaming away from his fair and delicate Maria is no more. His child and her husband have long grown up and another generation of problems crop themselves up, with or without Rosalia''s strange existence.


    Ronald feels himself getting old, is there grey hairs up there on his head yet? Might as well at this rate. Might grow a ridiculously long beard and build a rocking chair to fall asleep on as he goes senile. Great retirement plan.


    Gable keeps the grapes going as if he could actually hear the dramatics going on in Ronald''s head. He can''t but Gable has known Ron too long to not understand what that bored dead fish gaze means. Utter ridiculousness.


    "Let him go and give me the time to work in the shadows. Let him go ''home'', let us follow him there. There are many ways to kill a man worse than death. Isn''t that right Alfonso?" ties up Frederick, elegantly switched his liquors to a sweeter finisher of a nightcap.


    He takes the summer saved wine from Alfonso''s practically magical hands to pour into Ronald''s suddenly empty mug. Huh when did he finish that? That''s why he doesn''t drink the good stuff when mad, it all just goes down like water. A finisher to the evening then.


    Ronald is getting old, leaving matters to his now son rather than taking it into his own. But his methods are not what will work best on this warzone. He is a wise enough general to know where to place his pieces and picks his battles.


    "One last thing honorable father...Maria...does she know?"


    It''s Ronald''s turn to sigh and he''s going to need another refill because would you look at that, the mug is empty again. Frederick complies, the violet red wine flowing smoothly without a word.


    "No. No she doesn''t. As always, she knows as much as you know she does."


    "Were you ever going to tell Maria? Me? "


    "You would have found out eventually Freddy. IF you wanted to, you would have found out far sooner."


    "I knew there was a reason I felt such distaste for the brat. Of course. Aishwarya. Of course, her brat would be just as insufferable even without doing a thing."


    "I''m sorry Freddy."


    "Hmmpf, makes no difference. I won''t say a word, not to another soul, not even to my Maria. "


    "Frederick...I''m sorry."


    His daughter preferred to remember the fallen as they were. An honorable memory befitting of any warrior, for all the fine ribbons and jewels could not dispel his blood and spirit in her veins. But Frederick is not the same. He''d rather look the gruesome truth in the eye, turn it over and analyze every crevice for splatter.


    If he wasn''t so prideful, if it wasn''t so personal, he would ask how she died. The young couple knew of the dead, they know of the missing and death count each year of the inner troops. It was hard not too when Maria was raised there. But they had resolved even before they wed to stop living in the past.


    But the past had funny ways of catching up on you. Any man who had the misfortune of living long enough knew that.


    "Leave Darius to me, such a fool is too dangerous to leave alive in the same world as my children."


    "We wish you didn''t have to find out like this Frederick."


    Gable took the words right out Ron''s mouth, which was a little busy at the moment. Good wine shouldn''t be wasted without tasting. There was already too much wasted in life.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Doesn''t matter, as long as Maria doesn''t have to know."


    The two seated men, getting old and older, look at each other with a held gaze of knowing. That just came with age and experience. By the fire, Alfonso aged face frowned grim, and he shook his head for his master.


    "It''s not my Maria that we were worried for. She was fond of her yes but, as with many of the old troops...but..."


    "I thank you for your concern but there is no need for such heedless condolences. I''m not the one that''s dead. That reckless woman. .... always told her so." brushes off Frederick, closing the curtains for the night himself.


    Frederick still talks in how he walks, always a little brooding. That much hasn''t changed in all these years. Frederick takes a seat across from them, refilling all the cups in the fire toasty room. The wine seemingly never ending. What a fine and soft like it is getting so old


    "I''ll just think of it as one last prank. Even from beyond the grave. Aishwarya always got me good, I can admit that much. Insufferable. Not even death has stopped her from getting me again."


    It''s a terrible toast but that''s Freddy for you. It was enough to break into a real grin over.


    If Freddy drinks a little too fast, Ronald won''t mention it. He does too.


    ------

 93 Which risotto?

    "I''m full..."


    Hmmm from my analysis made up of common sense and pinching flesh like an evil fairy tale witch fattens up lost children, I declare this statement to be a lie. With a wave of the spoon in my hand, I sentence you to continue the punishment.


    "More bacon!" screams out Lukas, an executioner acting on command.


    "But...too much bacon."


    "Never!!! Never too much bacon!"


    With pure force alone, Lukas has Amar held down in his seat while I stuff the full spoon in his little mouth. Teamwork! Amar can''t fight off the both of us like this.


    There''s not much to do when stuck in the sick room. No work to sneak off to, no training to do, and some brats I''m stuck babysitting. Oh and I still can''t talk, at least not without sounding ridiculous. Just a mumble of pathetic sounds rather than words, it''s like I''m a baby again.


    There''s no way to heal this beyond waiting out the deadly effects of the poison. I can''t even tell Lilyanne to heal me.


    How would I tell her? The chalk slate? She''s 3, she can''t read!


    I can''t wander around, I can''t do any real work, I can''t kill the already very damaged little boy responsible for my state, thus there''s no enjoyment left but food. Let the meals commence!


    Today''s kitchen menu is pork belly risotto.


    It''s on the stickier fluffy side to imitate rice gruel but with a bit more texture for everyone else''s enjoyment. However, we as quarantined kiddies get extra soft creamy mushy risotto. Easy on the tummy. It''s very plain but for the stock, shallots, and white wine it was cooked with, though one can easily add a bit more salty cheese to their plate. Plain and thus all the more pure and perfect compliment to the overly decadent pork.


    Child bite cubes of the flying pig have been simmered and seared for the beautifully crispy crusting on the skin of tender layers of meat. That expected greasiness is offset by the size of the cuts and cooked with sprigs of rosemary and fennel like herbs.


    Such a heavenly aroma, crisp between your teeth and on one bite, bursts in the juice to softly melt in your mouth. Paired with the pure snowy base of the risotto, it''s not plain or basic but absolutely essential in food pairings. One of the pillars of all food ships, a perfect combo. A flavor that captures the hearts of hardened foodies, picky eaters and kids like Lukas.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Grilled meat and white rice!


    Even if it''s not my japonica rice, this fluffy puffy white rice fully absorbs this fat. A perfect compliment to spread and elevate rich flavor that would otherwise be too greasy. It is a flavor that fuels men across time and continents.


    "It''s good...but it''s too much....too heavy..."


    At this point, Amar easily passes off the fatty chunks of meat to Lukas plate. Against the temptation of his favorite protein, Lukas is simply weak. His little lips so pink and greasy from being unable to resist stuffing his own face. If I''m not careful about my plate, I fear the topped portions of bacon will disappear into his belly as well.


    There''s already plenty of smaller pieces tattered and melted into the risotto, and there''s still plenty to feed growing magical children.


    There there though, I understand. It really is too much bacon. Not everyone has Lukas'' love and tolerance for AYCE pork belly.


    Even if I smash a spoon to his face, Amar now only opens up on bites of more untainted risotto. Is it too smelly? Sick kids are even more sensitive. Let us scoop a more balanced ratio of carbs, vegetables and condiments.


    It is time. Time to break out...my secret research! Ohohohohoho!


    From my very inconspicuous note of an entire chalkboard slate, I have informed Georgie and the kitchens to bring the pickles. That''s right! The great vegetable pickling experiments.


    Food research and anti- famine preventions aren''t just about increasing farm productivity. It''s about making food preservation not only more effective but more delicious! To not only stretch out the length of time that people can keep the bounties of spring and summer but to make it so tasty that people actually want to keep doing so. Bad food is bad for morale. Bright veggies are scarce in the winter. Come out my wonderful research!


    Just not all of it? Abbey and I only had at most a few months to really start on my vinegar research, let alone the first rounds of pickling. Together with Georgie and some other helpful staff we''re turning that salad vinaigrette craze into something more substantial.


    Vinegar is a great household cleaner despite the sour smell. Great if we have no need of ...acid bug juice? My kitchen staff had no problems really revving up the vinegar productions and tests, developing different types to see what develops using different brans and bases.


    I have high hopes for my vinegar research in many fields. From skincare to cleaning products, from complicated foodie dupes in the work to something as seemingly simple as ....pickles!


    There are quite a few random experiments sitting down there underground in the cold storage. When Abbey isn''t organizing my soaps and skin products, she''s down there writing time and observations. A good number of then need more time to make any real research on long term food preservation.


    But some of these pickled veggies are ''ripe'' and perfectly ready for eating.


    I just wish I had clear mason jars or just good glass jars for pickling in general. It''s hard to tell with the dark glazed pots and jars just what is what, even if we''ve labeled them ahead of time.


    Glass jars huh? That''s not...exactly Bicchieri territory? Father allows the manufacturing of the blurry little windowpanes in our territory? Maybe we can expand to glass jars? Or maybe use that resin material for my cups? How would that material seal or keep?


    Another thing to ask the nerd about when I get released.


    I hear that my trip has gotten more than postponed. No capital for me this year, whoooo! Thus it''s time to celebrate by popping open those pickles...talk about child friendly.


    "What''s that?" gazes Lukas curiously at the rolling trolley of small to medium-dark jars makes its entrance. Finally, I was waiting so long for this!


    "Mi-mi-miss Rosalia! Here are the sottaceti as you requested! I-I didn''t grab any of the so-sottoli."


    "I don''t even know if we can call most of these sottaceti or even giardiniera anymore. Whoever heard of mixing some of this stuff in giardiniera? You better not be wasting all that food with your crazy craft projects Rosa."


    Eh and I guess Abbey and Georgie are here too.


    Sorry, they were overshadowed by the pickles. I got too excited.


    Now it''s not that the ancient art of picking foods doesn''t exist here. Giardiniera is absolutely a thing. Mmmm giardiniera, just no spicy versions here, or sandwiches to eat them with.


    There''s no real one version, with every region or household eyeballing it for their own tastes according to the regional produce. There are two major kinds, ''under vinegar'' or ''under oil'' as the pickling solution to keep the pickles. Due to the recommendation of my staff, I''ve made both kinds to experiment on since they''re both popular among the common people.


    Two whole different sense of tastes and textures, even if they use the exact same mix of chopped vegetables. For one though the oil packed sottoli aren''t really pickles, they''re not actually a long term preservative and the vegetables do have to be fully cooked before getting sunk into olive oil to cut off oxygen and increase flavor.


    They go well on cheese boards and stretch out those summer vegetables. An interesting aspect though is that due to the nature of keeping food in any long-lasting brine, it''s considered a peasant''s staple food rather than anything that should grace the fine tables of those with status. Perhaps on the side as an appetizer, antipasto or even as a palate cleanser but it''s not seen any more than that on tables fit for nobility.


    Even Rosalia of the past knew that much. Pickled foods were for the poor!


    Even if they were crunchy and tasted good, you had to be a pathetic lowborn or worse to need to eat such things. You could get away with more in the winter but to consume too much of such things was a testament that a household could not afford better food for their meals. No fashionable lady or her managed household would be caught serving pickles at dinner. What would people say?


    Oh the horror. Oh the stupidity that is classism.


    I hear there are a few countries that consider onions and shallots to be ''peasant'' fare and so their dinner tables lack everything in that family. No aroma at all. What''s the point of being rich if your food isn''t any good?


    Either way, I have a completely different sense of taste than anyone here. Apparently I''m truly suited for peasant fare! I really miss eating rice or porridge with my Asian pickled vegetables. I miss stuff like banchan and tsukemono, even plain Chinese sauerkraut! I want my rainbow of pickled side dishes!


    If there''s anything this nearly irresistible meal of pork belly risotto is missing, it''s acid.


    After a few decadent bites, even I got tired of this deliciousness. Another child could keep eating easily, hell a good number of my household staff are more than fine, especially as they add cheese for even more heaviness. I can''t keep doing it even if it tastes great but then again I am a strangely refined sort of baby for this world.


    ''Sample each one out!'' I hold out the prepared chalk slate, orders already written down.


    "Hehe, it''s true. You really can''t talk!" snorts Georgie, a look of pure unprofessionalism on his teasing face.


    Abbey is already shaky as she works at scooping and plating so I can''t threaten Georgie even if I could. Can''t risk her spilling. I do however erase the slate board to draw an arrow. When turned around it points directly at Amar.


    ''Blame him.''


    Instead of everyone rightfully avenging or even being offended for me, Georgie just lets out an ugly cackle of a laugh. I shall not murder him for the sake of the pickles, I will not.


    "Ahahahaha! Good! Good job! Ah what did you do and can I pickle it up and keep it on hand for when our young miss gets mouthy?!"


    "Rosa? You really still can''t talk?" the little culprit tilts his head, as if he truly didn''t realize.


    For the absurdity of that statement I smack Amar''s face with the slate, then stick out my horrendously swollen tongue for the world to see.


    "Oh. Oops? Sorry Rosa." says the boy curiously.


    Oops? Oops won''t bring my voice or tongue back to normal you secret drug dealing brat! Ack, and there''s no need to poke it!? I feel bad for further abusing such a small child though so I have to change the slate for a seat cushion before smacking away my righteous frustrations.


    *smack smack smack*


    "Are we having a pillow fight now!? Cool! Are you still gonna eat that?" drools Lukas, eyes getting cross as they zoom onto my share of bacon.


    *smack*


    Blocked. Intercepted. Let''s just....move my plate away even further. To safety.


    "Ahhh, ahaha, alright that''s enough. Rosalia stop being so darn violent, sheesh." laughs Georgie.


    He takes away my feathery weapon while wiping away a tear in his eye. I am doubting the validity of those tears at my expense as he smacks me with the cushion next, all before clearing the kiddy table in the sick bay enough to help Abbey place the little plates.


    I didn''t want to overwhelm myself or waste too much, experiments they are I am still stuck eating them, so I asked my servants to grab at most a dozen of the ready vinegar-based pickles.


    International banchan experiments come to me. As they''re placed on little plates according to the vat they came out of, the colorful variety of them really looks like banchan sides. There''s no chili, sesame oil, or even soy marinade but I am playing with rice vinegar.


    Lots of vinegar. Let''s taste what works best!


    Lukas looks like a confused puppy dog, sniffing at the dishes with some reluctance while Amar perks up, not even noticing a loose feather or three caught in his hair.


    "Torshi?"


    "No, not sure about those but ahhh honestly, I don''t even know anymore. They''re just Rosa''s pickles at this point." heckles Georgie, pulling out said cushion feathers and brushing them away.


    "Pickles then? Okay."


    Time to dig in!


    As a tiny limbed toddler I most certainly don''t need any help reaching for food. If I do I have a sticky clumsy maid observing, trying to help without spilling. Georgie doesn''t approve of my chopsticks but he and the staff have come to accept them as pretty decent serving utensils, like a sort of tongs. For daily eating use though I haven''t popularized them enough to be allowed them for actual eating use. If I had chopsticks then I wouldn''t need any help reaching for plates at all.


    "Eat this one." comes Amar''s muffled voice, munching away.


    A little plate of balsamic vinegared garlic cloves is pushed right under my nose. Followed by another garlicky based one, some bran covered collards and another garlic carrot plate. It''s come to the point where my side of the table has been walled in by mostly garlic banchan.


    I like garlic and all but what gives? Are they too stinky and you''re trying to push them off on me? Lukas is the one who eats everything you know?


    "Vegetables are gross!" said black hole manages to get out, before Georgie sticks a cucumber in there.


    See, despite whatever Lukas says, he still chews and swallows at the speed of light. Just pile it up on his place with his beloved bacon and he has no choice.


    "Still gross! That one was less gross! Is there any more meat?"


    "Just eat Lukas." chuckles Georgie, seemingly taking amusement in feeding a hungry chirping bird. A bottomless black hole down his little mouth. Abbey awkwardly passes over some seafood-based ''banchan'' since that''s technically ''meat''?


    A wooden spoon drops a clove of whole garlic onto my plate.


    "Sorry. Eat these ones." Amar sticks out his tongue like a dummy, pointing to the normal child sized tongue then back again to the plates he piled my way.


    Hmm, I see but will something as simple as garlic cure me of this silent curse? Eh whatever, pickled garlic are yummy. I shall accept.


    They go so well to cut this fattiness! So much better!


    Some greens, some shallot garlic things. So yummy! My tongue can taste them just fine and it''s not bored anymore! The risotto is only made more delicious with the breaks of bright tart flavors. The crunch of the vegetables brining a whole new texture. It all elevates the table not only in one''s mouth but on all the senses. That refreshing smell. That colorful spread, easy on the eyes. I shall take every banchan tester than comes my way, all without reaching!


    Not bad, not bad at all.


    The pickled experiments are still a little plain compared to what I''m used to be it''s not bad at all. Let''s taste everything here with today''s risotto! It''s my duty to do so after all. Hey hey, everyone taste some garlic too. And pass over the eggplant too, get to it. Feed me. I''m really too short.


    I want to try the others too! Yummy! Mmm so yummy!


    "Oh how darling!!!"


    Oh no.


    The big boss, monster of this territory, my mother is here. Oh no she''s squealing. Oh no. Why are her eyes sparkling like that?


    "Oh so darling! Is it delicious Rosa dear? Oh everyone looks like they''re having so much fun! Oh so cute, oh my heart. Ahh my turn too!"


    Mother rushes up with a great flutter of her skirts, taking a seat at the same time she does a spare spoon. Then however she looks suddenly conflicted, I can hear a perfectly clear muttering as her head crazily darts all around from the table to everyone under the age of 10. It''s not a threatening gesture but why do I feel a great dread and chill?


    "Too cute, all too cute. Oh who to feed? I can''t all of them. Oh so cute. Oh my Rosa never lets me feed her like that, oh how hateful oh but he''s too cute oh they''re all too cute I can''t be mad. Oh I can''t take this."


    "...."


    Out of my discomfort, I must act as the only true adult here, again. Reaching up grasping a spoon of now garlicy risotto, I gesture to my foolish mother and attempt simple but actual speech.


    "Mawma, ahhhh?"


    The entire room falls silent as mother''s strange muttering suddenly stops, seemingly frozen in that very instance. That is until the squealing starts.


    "KYAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"


    Oh my poor delicate ears. Is this where I get my lungs from? From mother? Is it connected to the stupid villainous laugh?


    It makes no sense but who am I to scientifically impose my understanding of genetics here?


    Said 50% source of my body''s genes is awkwardly and grossly cuddling me like a small fuzzy animal. Mother? Mother, can you put me down? Mother, I can''t eat like this, your boobs are too much in the way. Mother, I have no idea how but can see a heart in your mouth.


    "Rooooosaaa~ Can you say that again?!" she squeals.


    Seeing no other choice but suffocation, I repeat the gesture the moment she sits up both back at the table.


    "....mama... Ahhhh?"


    I can feel the rumble that is another fangirl worthy screaming going on in her chest given our close proximity. Thankfully though, as stiff and terrified as I feel, she refrains herself from exploding and simply takes a bite with those plump flirtatious lips.


    "Mmmmm so good!!!" she squeals in a manner I know is her holding actually back.


    I can still see a heart in her mouth and maybe more invisible pink hearts radiating out of nowhere? What is this sorcery? The strange punishment is not over yet because once again, mother''s heart-shaped lips are wide open.


    "Ahhhhh."


    "....."


    What sort of strange roleplay is going on here? I''m the physical baby with tiny limbs, you all should be feeding me! Though I don''t really need it, thank you very much.


    I am trapped though. Trapped in the oddly strong arms of the final boss beast with powerless witnesses all around. Trapped between a table and too soft it''s suffocating place. I have no choice but to fearfully give my mother what she wants.


    My food.


    Truly mother is a cruel and dangerous sort of creature, far more than I have ever estimated from her.


    "Oh that one is yummy too! Oh what strange giardinieras? I believe Frederick darling would like those? Ah, would he let me feed him with these? He gets so shy...so cute...ohohohoho~ what am I thinking here ohohoho?~ Rosalia dear say ahhhhh!"


    Even if I am stiff in horror and gross fear, tasty food is tasty.


    Mother, being an adult, also has a long reach. I don''t have to feel bad pointing and ordering her around like I do the others during mealtime.


    Occasionally though I can see the spark in her eyes as she eyes the primary schoolers. As if she wants to spoon them up and eat them whole like they were on the table rather than just sitting at it. The boys can definitely feel the deadly intent. Lukas keeps oddly silent, even eating his vegetables without half the usual chattering complaints. Amar, while shivering in fear, thankfully has his usual monster like appetite returned, finishing off enough plates of my ''banchans'' to get an even shakier Abbey to refill them.


    Those pickle plates can be the successes I suppose? He eats them with a lot more gusto so that''s good?


    "So cute~" coos mother, not at all sounding like a candy witch hungry to fatten up lost children. Noooo, not at all.


    It looks like I shall have to be today''s sacrifice to keep the peace and order. Mama look, ahhhhhh. Keep getting distracted or feed me more? Both?


    Please don''t eat my henchmen? Or anyone?


    Please?


    ------------


    --------


    ----


    Bonus (that no one asked for): Down in the actual dining room


    ----


    ---------


    -------------


    "Cheewsey!"


    "More cheese? Now are you sure about that Lilyanne dear?"


    "Cheesewie!"


    A little toddler jumps up and down happily in her seat as her doting father looks increasingly concerned. Perhaps it was due to the small mountain of shaved cheese growing on her lunch plate.


    No proper man, let alone a noble blooded gentleman, would put himself in such a position regulated to a mere servant. But what is a father if not servent to his family, especially when one had daughters?


    So here he is, crouched over, ungracefully grating a giant hunk of misshapen cheese into powdery fine grains of sand. Like an hourglass trickling down, the mound below grows and grows as the source cheese wears itself down.


    "Lilyanne darling, don''t you think that''s quite enough?"


    The handsome, too handsome and refined for this, man is met with a simple shake of the little girls'' head, her curls cutely waving around as they grew long. She looked so much like her wonderfully stubborn mother that way. Given lot neater than little Maria''s wild ringlets had ever looked but that was his wife for you.


    Incomparable and unmatchable.


    His Chip undoubtedly took a little more after him with her short auburn turning tresses but his youngest was coming into her own. His heart shook in a very founded fear at the little beauty that would surely grow devastating to mankind in a few too-short years.


    The guards around her were too weak and foolish. Yes, he needed to place more of his own, maybe not right now when his baby girl was tucked up safe behind walls of their home but he wouldn''t risk it for long. He of all people knew what the world held. What horrors it had in store, the violent vile hunger it held for all this is good and beautiful.


    "Mmmm mmm! Chweeeeseie~"


    "If we mix it up Lily, the cheese will melt into the risotto and it will taste very ''cheesy'' yes. "


    "Morwe Chweeeesie~ Big. " she gestured with bright eyes and tiny little arms.


    Oh curse his weak heart. How can he deny his sweet little girl with she looked like a tiny de-featherd chick?


    That anatomy of a too-large head too heavy but it was somehow kept upright. Fat arms too short for the squished length of a small torso. When young, humans and chicks had little to no visible neck, no elongated anything. Just balls of fat and perceived cuteness meant to trick adults in multiple species into loving and caring for them. Replace the arms with wings and it truly resembled a freshly hatched chicken.


    In her sunny yellow frock with her mother''s honey touch to her hair, a true yellow chick chirped at him. He was powerless to deny her anything, let alone a shredded mountain of salted fermented beast milk.


    "Surely, this is enough cheese? It will be very ....strong? Lily love?"


    "Mawr cheesy!"


    With a great sigh of mixed love, affection and simple exasperation he taps his slightly sore fingers before settling to drop the cheese grater entirely.


    As an experiment, he holds the mangled cheese wheel right in front of his wide eyed beloved child.


    "Lily- my sunshine and overly cheesy child, the wheel was thiiiiiis large." Frederick tries to indicate using simple crude gestures, "now it is only this small, for the mass has been sacrificed to that."


    He gestures slowly to the great cheese mountain hat topped on the once-simple plate.


    "Now, don''t you see that''s a little much, the cheese will disappear at his rate and you''ll be consuming more cheese than grains of rice."


    The tiny angel, or baby chicken, nods her head in slow understanding, her expression getting increasingly more focused as she took in his point.


    She then demonstrates that understanding by pecking at the whole cheese still in his hand."


    "Chewwwsss"*munch munch*


    Curiously he does not separate his spawn and the curd of fermented salty milk. Rather he tests the weight by lifting not only the cheese but his attached daughter on one hand. How curious what a strong grip by her baby teeth alone.


    He repeats the lifts a few more times, as one trains their bicep muscles with little to no change on Lily''s position of mouth to cheese. Perhaps a few more bites up higher? It was quite amusing.


    He sighs a little too fondly because she really did resemble her mother when young like this, ribbons and all. How cute. His youngest was too terribly cute.


    "Lily dear, you must eat your lunch properly or else the cheese mountain I spent the last quarter of an hour on shall go to waste. Now you wouldn''t want to do that now?"


    The baby chicken with teeth blinks in wide awe and a small gasp, releasing her from the chewed up wheel to fall back softly into her seat. She shakes her head because she didn''t want to leave cheese mountain all alone!


    "Then we shall now mix it up and enjoy-"


    Before Frederick could even pick up a silver spoon, or even make to fold the risotto, his wonderful daughter had buried her beautiful little face into the shredded cheese pile.


    *munch munch* "noms chewsie so yummy" *munch noms noms*


    Oh she even ate like a chicken? Had she ever done this before? Or has she just never been observed doing so? Does it work only with fermented milk and salt solidified? What a fascinating child. He''s so glad she''s his to cherish and observe.


    Too fascinating really.


    His eldest Rosalia was a much easier child to understand. Her intentions and the inner workings of her mind was as clear to him as his own draft drawings. Yet he''s been currently banned from the sickbay by his own wife for failing to ''behave''. Which was preposterous, he wasn''t actually going to shoot any child for information. Just a simple interrogation, get the quiet one to talk. It was always the quiet ones.


    "Papa~"


    Chirped the darling little girl, made all the more charming with a face dripping yellow in puffed rice mix and too much cheese. With her sticky bare fingers, proof that she is humanoid and not actually the fluffy chick of a bird, his Lilyanne holds up a terrible mashed ball of risotto.


    "Papa nom nom! Papa ahhhhh!"


    Well now, he can''t call himself a man if he says no that.

 94 Pillow fight?

    Good news I can talk again!


    Perhaps the effects of drugged candy finally wore off after enough time and rest, perhaps it was the medicinal powers of pickled garlic. Either way, I am back to full speaking capacity. Except for some minor aches and weakness in my tiny toddler legs, I am almost back to full health.


    Which means it''s interrogation time.


    "Why do you have drugged candy in the first place!!!?!"


    "What''s a drugged candy and is it yummy?!!!"


    "No! I mean they were alright but that''s not the point Lukas. Now you! Talk!"


    For this to be a classic intimidating interrogation we would need something closer to a jail cell and maybe some handcuffs. The best we can do is close the curtains and dim the lighting in the sickbay. The middle of the room has been cleared as best as we could manage.


    No comforts. Just a short study table and an uncomfortable chair.


    The scrawny little criminal is tied up nice and tight. His slim wrists bound and knotted in some of my mother''s scary scary ribbons. It was the best I can do ok? Since color has returned to Amar over the course of these last few days, a sign of good health, he looks more like a wrapped up candy in those light shiny ribbons than a criminal held in handcuffs.


    No matter, another intimidation tactic is the imbalance of power.


    While he''s still in the sickbay prison uniform of a fluffy chemise, Lukas and I have gotten our hands-on our regular clothes again. Though in Lukas case, it''s looking a lot nicer than usual? Mother''s influence? Gable''s? Well, there is less roughhousing in here versus anywhere else he might lose his socks at again. Either way, we''re fully dressed and protected, ready for a runner, if he dares.


    "Talk!"


    I slam at the table, the very perfect picture of a bad cop. If bad cop was a cute and tiny toddler. The criminal shakes, but otherwise looks clueless, tilting his head to the side.


    "Um.... sorry?"


    "No! We don''t need your useless sorry, there''s so much more you can give me than sorry! Where do you get curry? Why do you eat poison? How long has this been going on? What is it with the blood! Why are you still even stuck with the blood crazy Darius and Damia? Why didn''t you get out of that? Are you brain damaged?! How much abuse actually goes on, no lying!"


    "Um...okay?"


    "Hey no fair! I wanna jump on and yell at Amar too. Get off, my turn!"


    "Wait no Lukas no you''re too heavy. You''ll break him, Amar weighs like 3 chicken wait no- ACK OW Why are you jumping on me?!!!"


    "You didn''t move fast enough!!!"


    "Lukas ow no Lukkkaaas!!!"


    "You two are funny."


    This....is not a very good interrogation unit. The chair has maybe fallen over, sending Lukas and I crashing to the floor like spilled mochis. Amar, being the tied up criminal that he is, has been left dangling like a martyr, that or an easily amused child. He giggles as he swings back on forth from the ribbons, tiny toes not quite touching the floor.


    "You''re right Rosa, it''s more fun to jump on you! You''re squishier. Thanks for catching me!"


    "Get off me you troll!!!"


    Somehow I get the feeling if anyone walked in right now it wouldn''t look good. It honestly never does when it involved these two troublemakers. Also, I may be getting stronger but I''m not quite ''push Lukas off'' strong. Let''s make that the goal. Amar, being much lighter, can be the intermediate shorter-term goal.


    Alright, classic interrogation set up failed. Let''s get to a safer more child-friendly spot.


    After getting Lukas off of me, and Amar untied enough to get him on the ground we relocate. There''s not a lot of options in the sickbay. The balcony is too cold, everything else is too bare and empty, so the bed it is. Seems we''re spending a lot of time in bed. This is the sad life of sick children.


    "Now talk!" I intimidate again, bouncing lightly due to soft bed.


    "Yeah talk!" repeats Lukas, bouncing even more.


    For safety reasons, Amar''s little wrists are still ribboned up and rewrapped in a big fat bow. This is not horrifyingly cute. He does not look like a kindergarten sized bonbon, noooooo, not at all..... No one let my mother see this, it''s too dangerous.


    Anything considered cute is in danger around her. How is Lilyanne still in one piece?


    "About what? Rosalia asked a lot earlier?" blinks the candy criminal, being a good sport about being tied up like a present box.


    "Poison then! What''s the deal with you and poison." I decide.


    Gotta keep it simple for kids to understand. There''s a lot to unpack here, one thing at a time.


    "Yeah the poison things. You said it was for training but it really hurt! Do you gotta eat it all the time? Are you always sick like this or worse!?" Lukas follows up interrogates.


    Out of fairness and safety, none of us can get too into the role of good cop or bad cop. No jumping, bouncing on or beating up the interrogatee. The best we can do is flank him with pillows. Soft fluffy hittable pillows.


    "Oh that?" starts Amar, " Yeah but I''m used to it-."


    *smack*


    No fear, it was just a warming smack with a said fluffy pillow. I am using it for every time the topic veers off or someone lies!


    "Not what we asked, but continue~and remember....no lying."


    "Yeah no tricking! Rosalia, you watch for tricking! "


    ".....sure."


    With Lukas, it''s easier just to agree and move on. When did I get so used to this one? Meh.


    "Um, okay...um the poison, it isn''t so bad?"


    Hmm, assuming that is true, I suppose that''s a good thing. Because a few simple bites of that curry was enough to practically kill me in less than the time it takes to finish a plate. Not a fun time for anyone.


    It makes me uncomfortable to think about, brings back the pangs of gut wrenching pain, when I think how anyone could live with it any more than once.


    "How long? How often do you have to eat poison? How long have you been eaten by this?" my own voice still sounds strange to me, a bit too childishly unknown.


    Eat or be eaten. Children understand this world in odd concepts and it seems that since I''ve become one myself, my world view has become something similar. Things we like we eat, we put in our mouths and make a part of ourselves. It''s in how a child copies their parents, a learned behavior or a trait.


    Tell me then, little boy. Where did you learn to lie?


    "How long?" he repeats, looking up from his seat, as if the answer was maybe written in the air before deciding.


    "Always, maybe?" he picks.


    "...Is that really your answer? Maybe always."


    "Maybe. I don''t remember. But yeah, maybe always.


    "Even before you came here? Even before hoody or Damia or us?"


    Maybe, it''s not the troops that''s the source of the problem. Not with Amar. It''s a part of it, a system that allowed this situation to even happen but....He''s a terribly odd child? I don''t think it started with the troops. How long has he been here anyways? Two years? Around that time if not more but the source of it seems to stem deeper, further. Maybe always doesn''t sound much like a maybe, but it sounds better than the alternative. Always.


    "Before me?" Lukas squeaks behind a pillow.


    Lukas shakes in his spot but remains as silent as he can, an overgrown puppy playing mouse. Somehow the pillows that we were using as weapons have turned into things of comfort, things we clutch onto. Even I''m hugging onto one tightly.


    From his little hands tied in ribbon, Amar counts with flicks of pink little fingers. One two three, then fours and fives, mouthing numbers bigger than the ones on his hands out silently. I don''t think he''s counting years.


    "Yeah. Before everyone. I''ve been eating poisonous stuff for longer than I can remember. It''s just something I can do, so I had to do it." Amar settles on.


    "Why you?!" I can''t help myself, asking before I can even process the words.


    Maybe I should take a lesson from Lukas and stuff the pillow to my own face. Bad impulsive mouth. It looks like Amar doesn''t mind but I should know better, I''m not some ignorant out of control child. I''ve said insensitive things before and it''s just so easy to forget or brush it off, especially with a kid that just doesn''t fight back.


    "Hmmm why me? Because um, because I can?"


    "What do you mean you can?"


    "Um, because I can take it? Or eat it? The poisons and stuff. If something bites me, my body will get used to the venom and after some time I won''t be affected anymore. It''s just something I can do. If I let it hurt now, if I can pass, then I''ll be better and stronger later? It''s like the training you do...but for me? So that''s why, the blood thing is weird but mine can be made into medicine? Like what you drank? Sorry for making you drink that. Sorry for all that."


    "I don''t like it! Stop saying sorry because I don''t like that either! No more Amar medicine for anyone!" shouts out Lukas, his volume greatly reduced by the pillow in his arms and mouth.


    "...Does it hurt?" I get why we''re squeaking now.


    "Um, it hurt but it doesn''t hurt me a lot? Not like it hurts you or anybody else. So not that much? It''s fine-"


    *smack*


    "Not fine, it is not ''fine'' and every time you say that from now on we have full permission to stop you! Got it?"


    I am trying very hard not to abuse the child or teach him abuse is ok but this pillow sure has a mind of its own. No no no, gotta try harder, let''s be a good girl and hold onto the violent smacking pillow nice and tight. It''s just that word...it sounds wrong when someone else says it. It''s all wrong.


    "I''m sorry. I won''t hit you or anything anymore, that was wrong of me. No one is supposed to hit anyone, you''re not supposed to be hit or made to bleed or any of that. Not by Damia or that Giloh guy from before, no one. It''s not fine. Getting hurt by anyone is never fine."


    I bury my nails into soft cushiony cloth, doing my best not to look away.


    This is important even if it''s uncomfortable. It''s a lesson ok! It''s a lesson about confrontation and rights and I don''t know, I''m no psychologist. Hell, I probably need one myself but there are actually messed up kids in the room here. Sure a child therapist would be useful but, when you''re a kid in a bad place you don''t think about that. You don''t think about getting better, you....you just try to survive.


    You make it fine so you survive, another night, another day. Even if it''s not.


    "It''s fine." comes a childishly irritating voice. What did I just say?! Ah this brat is being so stubborn! I don''t know who is worse, Lukas or Amar! Right now Amar is winning.


    "You! I just said stop that! If it''s fine then it''s fine but none of this is fine!"


    "I get it... I''ll....be more careful from now on... but it''s fine if you hit me? If it''s you it doesn''t hurt at all Rosalia. Not even a little bit, even without pillows. You''re too weak."


    ....Someone stop me from smacking this child into oblivion. Lukas?


    "And Lukas is too slow? Sparring is fine right?"


    "Hey!!! I am not! Here look!"


    Ah I see, very effective Lukas. Stop me from attacking by jumping in first yourself. Oh the horrors that are pillows. Hey wait a minute?! Amar is distracting us again!


    "Stop that."


    "I am not too slow!!!" *smack smack smack*


    "You''re hitting the bed and not me?" in between rolls Amar sticks his little tongue out, riling up Lukas even further.


    It''s like a bad cartoon. I can see it all before it even happens as Amar tricks Lukas into lunging with a pillow towards the edge of the bed. Then quickly rolling away for Lukas to fall the...almost three feet to the ground. At least he has a pillow to cushion?


    *smack*


    "You, down and behave. Lukas, get back up here, Amar tricked us again."


    "Aye aye!" hopped up the taller boy, looking a bit better after a bit of tussling activity.


    I see this is a hit first, not talk sort of boy. I am not surprised at all. You know what? I''ll take my predictability as they are. Thank you Lukas for not making me think too hard about you and the inner plots of your mind. I am glad that it is filled with bacon and pillow fights and not absolute lies.


    "You. Did that hurt?" I point again, brandishing the fluffy weapon.


    "Um no? You hit me with a pillow so no?"


    *smack*


    "How about now?"


    "...I''m confused again but no?" blinks the child, a little extra fluffy from the rolling, still tied up in ribbons and bows even though he could have easily loosened them off by now.


    "Good. Because it''s not supposed to hurt. I''m not trying to hurt you. No one is supposed to hurt you. It''s nothing like sparing or training. That other hurt is bad, it''s abuse. It hurts you for no reason. You get stronger because of yourself or stuff you do and work towards, not because of the hurt! Do you get that Amar? Actually get that?"


    Sleepy green puppy eyes gaze at me blankly, it''s like the lights are on but no one''s home. The first sign of life, of any response, comes in a snort. If I didn''t already know how brain damage this kid is I would be frustrated and indigent.


    "Ah I get it, sorry sorry. Don''t cry?"


    "I''m not crying?!!!"


    "Rosalia don''t cry?!" he sounds increasingly panicked. Which makes me mad because I now need to defend myself from a false accusation.


    "I said I''m not!!!!"


    "I''m sorry?! Stop crying? Please?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "I''m not crying at all!!?! These are angry tears at how dumb and hurt you are!"


    "Sorry sorry I won''t let them hurt me anymore? Please stop crying?!" Amar starts hiccuping, holding up the ribbons to his nose.


    "WHY ARE WE YELLING AND CRYING?!!!!" cries Lukas, for some odd reason he''s crying too?! For what! You didn''t fall that hard?! Why are you crying so heavily?!!


    Hell why am I crying? Shit these kids got me crying for real. This is why I can''t be a child psychologist!


    This is oddly reminiscent of any time I happen to forcibly be vulnerable with a certain crazy grampa in a reincarnator meeting. It is for safety then, that all talks of feelings should be henceforth banned. Ah but that''s a really really bad idea for abused kids. Repression is bad, very bad. It sucks, but I have to be the actual adult here. There''s no one else as mature as me to smack some lessons into these brats?


    "You shouldn''t have let them in the first place if you can! You should have found and told someone who could help. Why do you just take it all the time?!" calming down now, not crying and shouting.


    I am in the process of calming down and talking sensibly. It''s....just taking my toddler sensitive body some time to catch up?


    "Sorry?! It''s just easier?" tries a sniffing boy, his volume increasing naturally in the mood of the room.


    "Easier?! Getting hurt and not doing anything is easier? For how long? Until it starts again? It''s a cycle it doesn''t end, that''s what abuse is!"


    Calm! I am not screaming. that''s just Lukas back there! Kids sound alike. Crying kids really sound alike.


    "Sometimes you''re lucky and it''s a few days, sometimes you''re really lucky and it''s longer. Sometimes you don''t even get one night''s of rest and it hurts all over again so you let them hurt you until they leave you alone? You can''t do anything to stop it and you think no one or nothing can stop so it''s just easier to get it over with?! Let me tell you it''s never over with because there was no point for it to start in the first place!"


    I give up, drop to my knees give up. There''s a voice I don''t recognize coming out of my mouth. Words I don''t know where they''re coming from. It''s a mess, one big mess. I messed up again.


    "There was no point for anyone to hit or harm you. They just want to use you for something and they''re mad you can''t! They get mad and they can''t deal with that do they hurt and it''s not fair! It''s not right! You can''t win against them and if you don''t get out it never ends. It just keeps hurting and you keep hurting, even when your body gets used to it. It still hurts a lot but you get so used to it and then in hurts somewhere you can''t feel and can''t heal. One day when you''re far away it will hurt but you can''t see it. It will still hurt and then you hurt someone else because of that! It cycles and grows bigger than you ever thought it could. It doesn''t get easier, so don''t say that. Don''t say you''re fine!"


    *smack*


    It wasn''t me. I scream into the offending pillow, more out of instinct than anything. There''s is an oversized pillow suffocating me after its sudden attack.


    "Sorry. Did it hurt? Sorry, you can cry lots? I won''t tell you not to cry anymore. You can cry, yell and hit me. Sorry. It must have hurt."


    There''s a pillow in my face and the wrong kid is being comforted again. Ah what a mess this all is, interrogation failed. No one is the good cop, we all suck. The wrong kid has gotten the upper hand over us, over me, it''s a role reversal.


    I don''t get it? I don''t get why all those nonsensical ramblings spilled, nor where they came from. They have nothing to do with Rosalia or this lifetime. This sort of oversimplified pain with no place to go.


    I see.


    I must have carried it over.


    When I died and came over to be Rosalia, I carried it all over with me. A soul, a person, was never buried properly. So as I carried all of me over, I also carried my baggage. Every single grudge and wound. How troublesome. It was a tough weight for a full grown adult woman to bear, let alone a child as small as me. How awful, I was better off not remembering.


    Give me back my boring peaceful life. I was better off not remembering anyone or anything at all.


    The pain is obvious, but where does this rage come from? Myself? The girl who this body originally belongs too? A girl that doesn''t exist anymore? It''s amazing how much anger and fury such a small body can hold, can create.


    It''s hard to breathe with the pillow and my constant exhaling of oxygen. But I can''t move it, there''s something holding it to my face and tied all around the back of my too hot head. I can neither move forwards or back like this. I can just cry and be rocked like the shameful child I''ve always been.


    Even through the madness, the fury, I''m left feeling this hollow. The empty sense of sadness.


    It hurts in a way no magic or even therapy can cure. Even worse, instead of mending, instead of closing up, it feels like the sadness has grown. It feels like I''m somehow missing even more of a part of myself than I thought possible.


    But what? How?


    "Mengmeng? Are you crying?"


    No


    "Ack! You are! Aish, Meng! Talk to me, please?"


    It''s too loud, my own blood is too loud. It''s rushing hotly through my ears, making me hear things.


    "Was it work? Is someone bothering you? No? Your brother? Is Hengfei sick again? You...did your old man call you again? Do I need to chase someone away? I''ll do it! Meng? Are you laughing?"


    I''m really going mad. It''s the oxygen deprivation, it makes me feel like laughing. Hearing this dumb voice again. It almost feels like he''s here, suffocating me with another too warm too gentle hug. I can''t see his face but I know his voice.


    The soothing voice I''m most comfortable with, the one I like the most.


    It doesn''t need to be a therapist or anything smart. It doesn''t even have to make sense. Just keep talking about nothing. Nothing ever made sense so, it''s enough if you''re just there. That''s all.


    "Okay then, I won''t make you talk yet, not if you''re not ready. It''s okay, you can cry. I''ll hold you, I''ll be here even after you''re done."


    I don''t want to cry ...but can I stay...can I stay here?


    "Will you stay?"


    I don''t know. I don''t think I can anymore.


    "Hmmm, denied. You''re too troublesome to go anywhere else, definitely not to anyone else. I won''t allow it you know?"


    That''s stupid. You can''t stop that.


    "Hey? Mengy? ...I...I know I can''t fix it. I can''t fix what happened and I can''t stop it from hurting."


    Don''t be silly. You can''t stop that nor do I expect you to. No one can do that for anyone.


    "I can''t magically fix it, you can''t fix mine. More than that though, I want to be here when it hurts, when life hits. I don''t get all of it and I can''t fix nor stop it, but I want to be here. No where else but here."


    Where is here?


    "Here."


    A squeeze. I can''t breathe and it finally feels ...right. His hugs are always too gentle, I don''t mind if it''s tighter. Ok then. If it''s here if it''s this person.... I won''t mind.


    "Stay?"


    Ok.


    "Please stay?"


    Okay.


    "I''m begging you Meng, please stay. Stay. I lo-"


    I gasp for breathing, oxygen and fresh air finally making it to my lungs. I can relish in the delirious relief of it for maybe two seconds before a block of ice smashes into my face.


    Ow ow ow, rude and owwww cold!


    "Is she okay now?!!!"


    "I think she''s breathing?!"


    "I can''t believe you almost killed Rosalia....cool!"


    "Me?! She cried so hard she passed out?!"


    "Yeah but you held- oh hi Rosalia!!! You''re awake again!!! Great because we cried lots and got scared and cried some more and-"


    *smack**smack*


    Two snot-nosed brats meet the other end of the pillow. There is no cuteness cute enough to forgive this. Not even when the primary schoolers are wet and teary-eyed like this. If it was my mother maybe but they can''t trick me.


    Cool? Nearly suffocating me to death is cool? I was trying to have a heart to heart moment with you emotionally deficient brats and you think that was cool?! Oh this isn''t over. Not for either of you murderous little monsters.


    For some very odd reason, I''m not feeling as bad, or even all that sad. The wonders of crying I suppose? I am however very very irritated for many reasons I don''t have the patience to examine nor list out. Very irritated.


    This interrogation is not over at all.


    I''m sick and tired of this game show and I will get the answers I need from this mess. Good cop? No more good cop, it''s just me now. All me, classical Rosalia Therese Ventrella with all the floggings and villainess fun.


    Don''t want to talk? I''ll make you talk. I''ll do it, don''t doubt me.


    Now stop crying?! Why are these kids still crying and clinging to me?


    Also someone get me a tissue or a hanky, my nose feels awful. Ow ow ow not an ice cube, a tissue!


    -------

 95 Stop thinking

    Wonderful news, I am not going to be forced to visit the capital to see the stupid prince! Not this year! It''s official now. Maybe a compromised trip later on to the northern edges of out territory, somewhere later on in the year, after it warms up. My health and circumstances have raised enough concern to cancel the usual.


    It''s like a dream come true.


    How do I know this, so bright and early in the morning? When the sun isn''t even out yet?


    Father told me.


    Tells me as he speeds walks us down long corridors and twists going down the stairs, my body bouncing lightly against his hold. Yes, this is not a dream, the nerd has really gotten me.


    It''s been a rather strange but very restful few sleepy days. As a child in recovery, it seems my body was automatically geared to sleep. How peaceful, is this what Lilyanne feels like all the time? What a wonderful life it is to not be expected to do anything but sleep, eat, and sleep some more.


    It does feel odd I admit, to have such a sudden halt to my daily routine. It''s part nice and relaxing with the other part jarring. At the very least, in the times I was awake, there was no room to be bored. Not when my roommates, or well bedmates, are the human embodiment of beast pups.


    Neither of those boys is meant to be domestic pets, they are just not house trainable. Bad pups. Do not adopt or make henchman, not worth the trouble.


    I still don''t trust Amar''s testimonies 100%, actually, I don''t know just how much to believe out of that curved little mouth anyways! Though I can say I''m glad that my interrogation skills went up. Ohohohoho, practice makes perfect. Don''t know what to believe? Get all of the info first, possibly by pillow and tickle torture, and decide later. The only problem with that interrogation method is that it''s a lot of info to process. Amar has the knack for talking...a lot....without actually saying anything useful. But what can I expect from a child? My only other cop partner is also a child, and so easily distracted he''s useless. Oh forget Lukas, I''m so easily distracted. It''s not funny.


    For sure the kid, obviously, is suffering from long term malnutrition and some very wary long term poison ''training'' that has lead to some rather impressive immunity. Some really messed up backstory there I''m sure. I am not thinking about messed up backstories that probably for everyone in the sickbay. We should make a little club at this point.


    Even though there''s a lot more to it, I don''t think I can get much more info from Amar directly. Not with my current interrogation skills.


    There''s a lot of things I won''t ask yet. A lot of things I don''t think a traumatized child is ready to take all at once. The most pressing being, ''who were your parents?''


    That. That''s the source of it right? Of Amar''s troubles? Of mine or Lukas. Who were your parents and what debt have they left behind for you to pay? What burdens do you carry from them?


    It was blurry, especially after the candy, but I remember it all, from eavesdropping from the floor to the dimming dialogue at the end. The questions in my mind swirl in a natural disaster, a storm pinpointing into that tip.


    Who? Where are you really from? Why you? Do you even remember those answers? Do you even know?


    "...I don''t know?" Then all of a sudden it''s a peaceful winter day and I''m outside smelling like cold air and donuts. It''s a day before all of this, as normal and boring as it can be for me. Amar in that memory answers with half shaken uncertainty, to something as simple as a birthday, and then with something I fear is the hollow truth.


    "I don''t know." says the silence, told like a truth hidden in a forest of lies.


    The things I really want to ask dies at my healed tongue before they can be spoken in my usual uncontrollable way, a far away warning that sounds a bit like Yuna''s grouchy voice echoes back.


    There are things you just don''t ask. Is that it?


    Is that what Lukas learned too? Don''t ask, don''t tell, move the hell on? Because that one knows more than he lets on too, more than he lets himself think about I''m sure. But as kids what choice do they have? These are the kind of thoughts I uncomfortably fall asleep too and wake with as long as I''m in the sick room. Floating around, known yet unknown, helpless in a situation you don''t know where and when to tread.


    It feels a lot like being a kid again.


    So I''m a little glad, if guilty when father swiftly steals me out of my bedding before the day even breaks. Something else to fill in my limited world view, something else to think about.


    This morning must have been our release date, or at least mine?


    Picking me up from my sleep and taking me off was a nerd I haven''t seen in a while. It was a shock at first, getting jolted away by being stretched out. My father''s gentle piano hands were almost painful on my sides against the pull of little hands clutching my limbs. A sleepy tug of war with me as the rope.


    When my senses rouse enough I can register the familiar scent of expensive bergamot, fine leather, and the underlying hints gunpowder. When I can blink away the darkness enough to make out the red light in the morning not actually peeking sunlight but candlelight reflecting my father''s hair my sleepy mouth can''t stop itself.


    "Papa?"


    I don''t know why I said that but it breaks the sleep added tension. The usual sound of childishly obnoxious snoring returns. Below me, ghoulish green eyes I don''t recognize blink up, softening sweetly until I finally do. The little creatures loosen their grips on me and let go one by one, as if realizing and accepting my inevitable capture by the big red-haired vampire.


    They even gave me sleepy waves goodbye, if you count Lukas kicking foot as a wave too. Amar''s dopey voice muttering "k, goodnight Rosa" as I''m swept away.


    Out of the sickbay and down swirling stairs, round and round all the way down.


    It was a very surreal sort of wake up call. Or was it an abduction?


    "...Nooooooo... cold." I yawn, seeing no other alternative to the chilly morning air than burrowing myself further into father''s chest and jacket. Or is it a baby sling? Oh god please don''t let it be the baby sling. "What time is it?"


    Instead of speaking, father grits his teeth until he lets out an irritated huff. I hear a gratingly low "brat" under his breath. Ahhhh must be early morning for father to be this grumpy. I understand for I am the same way.


    "Pa-Father?"


    It may be the dark of the early morning, with not a soul around. It may be the flickering light of the lantern, making shadows dance stretch and along the seemingly endless halls and stairs. It may be the dramatically billowing black cape that father has chosen to wear to today. But my father is making a very suspicious-looking character right now. A little vampire, a lot dramatic.


    Hey am I even in the right house? Or the right life? What is with this cinematic horror movie atmosphere? Oh is this why Rosalia always wore dramatic red gowns and luxuriously detailed black lace, like some cheesy otome game villainess? It wasn''t just her color scheme? Oh my god I''m 50% vampire!


    "Chip dear, you can go back to sleep."


    The vampire parental smiles down at my now squirming form in a supernaturally hypnotizing manner, a bit smug and too bright to my eyes. It forces me to calm down by utterly stopping all rational thought. There are no fangs but the candlelight has illuminated some god forbidden bone structure, setting gold eyes and a polluted sunset framing hair a glow.


    Curses!!! How do you expect me to go back to sleep like this!?! Much curses!!! In the time I''ve gone without being exposed to the nerd it seems that my tolerance for his evil face has dramatically dropped! A refresh button. It''s the opposite of poison training, I''ve been left fully vulnerable to the good looking attack! I think I feel like coughing up blood from this unfair attack!


    It''s too early in the morning for this.


    But where are we going? Even if it''s my release date, father doesn''t have to personally come to get me. Nor does it have to be at this unholy silent hour?


    It''s so quiet that not even the earliest shift staff must be awake. Normally someone like me has no issue falling back asleep or sneaking naps, it was my great skill since I was young. Or well....it was....and I am young again, but as Rosalia?


    Right, I''m Rosalia now! So it is to my great shame that I am restless and squirming all around from the candlelit sight of my own father''s face. Oh the shame!


    I must bury myself for this great transgression. Yes, deep inside the cloak and inner jacket, muffling my whines of confused screaming into the warm wall that his father''s chest. It''s nowhere near as big. muscular and squishy as grampa''s but surprisingly toned, very good for a nerd. I make sure to pat my wall, feeling for the best spots. I must be very inconvenient and ticklish to carry so take that!


    As I make the best of my situation, aka making my travel nest as comfortably layered as possible, the air changes through the fabric and thin peek I afford for myself.


    The dark has turned white. We''re outside, traversing through a thick frosty fog, lit only by the magical candle glow of the lantern. The barest sound of snow crunching underneath Father''s swift steps. Like the people around, tucked up safe in their beds, the land is still asleep.


    The stark southern gardens, normally flush with flowers and surrounded by a maze of greens for Lilyanne''s viewing pleasure is not to be seen. Not when it''s buried in the uncommon but not impossible layers of snow. The carefully cobbled walkways and stone gazebos are completely covered from the white that fell the night before.


    Again am I in the right place? Have I been transported to another world, again? Say Phantom of the Opera or something in a gothic horror movie?


    I make the mistake of looking up questionably to my transport mule, aka father. Big mistake. If I thought he was sinfully handsome in the dark shadowy hallways then he looks absolutely horrendous when haloed by the hazy glow caused by light on fog. It''s a crime against humanity and rationale. The cold-causing his tall cheeks to flush across his nose, imitating something of a flustered blushing appeal on an otherwise cool face. The halo lit around us like a masterful old painting, casting the subject as something beyond human, divine. Angelic to the point of damnation and sin.


    That wicked face is the primary reason mother married this loser, I swear.


    Time to look away again! Not seeing mother''s man in that light,or any light, oh no no no. Back into the burrow! Nice and safe in here, no looking and gross screaming. Screaming like a fangirl is reserved for Gable only. Only Gabe is worthy. Oh look I''m so cold I can''t help roll around shivering, most certainly not fangirl rolling around.


    Questioning can wait till we get to wherever father taking me. Hopefully, somewhere warm. This isn''t the way to the stables though, so I doubt we''ll be seeing the puppy horses or going anywhere far.


    Ah yes, I sure do recognize the creepy mausoleum looking structure in this dead hedge of garden maze.....NOT?! When was that there?! What the holy hell? I would think I know my own house enough to remember this?


    Oh wonderful! There are secret stairs leading into a dark underground! Please don''t be a tomb, please don''t be a creepy place full of dead things. No no no, please don''t be a horror movie. I''ll be good in the baby sling or whatever this is just please don''t be a horror!


    Father should have blindfolded me with a bag over my head or something to complete the scene. He is really not helping his increasingly villainous image that''s growing in my mind. How in the world did the original Rosalia not see it before?


    Like a haunted house, the lights flicker in candles and lanterns only with each step my father takes down....even more stairs! Yes they spiral!


    The cold click on his shoes on marble steps soon softens, to something of a plush carpet. The world lights up just enough I can see that it''s....a very predictable shade of dark red. Why father why?


    To my pleasant surprise though, the stairs open not to a tomb or dungeon torture chamber but a very warm and inviting lounge space. With the lights and fireplace, all magically flickered into life with the precision of automatic motion sensors it gives the red ambiance something of a Gryffindor themed aesthetic. Regal and cozy, a mix of soft seats and handsome long tables.


    More importantly, are the gears and gadgets strewn around. Grampa''s ridiculous cheat crossbows various wheels made of all sorts of material, broken looking glass. Carved wood and metal parts in mismatched shapes, drafting papers and scrolls scrawled about. A few are even pinned up to the walls in something that resembles corkboard. Drafts and designs so complicated they have my eyes seeing swirls along with them. For the most part, they''re drawn in what I know is my father''s hand but there are framed papers that stand out from his style, sharper and varied as if collected from other people. It''s a strange sort of workroom, and even more interesting than his office.


    Another wall hangs with a glass display case of various items for easy viewing while in storage, a rack of antique-looking decorative guns in open space. Hanging not so hidden in the corner is a full human skeleton model like one would see in a classroom, complete with black etched numbers and nails per bone. For father''s worsening image in my mindscape, I shall give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend that''s a scientific model. Just like I will pretend that....golden skull on the cleanest desk is just a decorative paperweight.


    Of course, the most terrifying thing here is undoubtedly the enormous gold leaf framed oil painting, mounted right over the roaring fireplace. A portrait of the most horrifying being I have come to learn to fear in my short limited life in this world. Mother.


    A wall-sized painting of my mother, sitting pretty watching over the room in all her beauty and intimidation. How scary.


    "Father? Did you do that?"


    A little hand and finger point out towards the scarily beautiful and realistic painting, before I can even register doing that.


    "Hmm still awake I see."


    "Father answer the question!"


    I heard somewhere that art isn''t about what looks good so much as what it makes you feel. In front of this, I feel the echoes of fear shivering through me at my mother''s likeness. So yes, it is art.


    It also is just...really really damned good. The details of the draping and clothing, the way the light is painted on her skin in different areas, reflected on the jewels or her honey bronze hair, warmer and shining beyond any mere blonde. How soft and dreamy the frame of flowers feel, as if I could reach out and touch the petals, the woman in the frame. If the subject wasn''t so scary, I would be on my knees in the oversized beauty of it.


    Okay so maybe I am? But only because father has plopped me out of his shirt and onto a fancy cushion by the fire. Ahhhh it''s warm, I''m feeling alive again.


    "That old thing huh....well I suppose I did. " he huffs, giving a bit of an exasperated look.


    "You? You made that? With your own bare hands?!"


    "Well I tried? The painting, not the canvas. Now that''s an idea."


    "You can paint?!"


    "If you consider that painting. I dabble a bit here and there when I find the time. That up there was never finished, but your mother forbids me from spending any more time trying perfect it. A poor imitation that I can''t help but still be irritatingly in love with. "


    Dabbling. He dabbled THAT?


    Oh my grampa, this man is such a nerd. He''s a damn all around art nerd. Oh lord no wonder the romantic Lilyanne is his favorite child. Holy shit. She really did get it from father?


    I had an inkling after seeing his skilled hand in drafting designs and drawings in general but nowhere to this extent. I don''t know whether to be in awe of his talents or just floored on the OP levels of nerd. How convenient, I''m already on the floor!


    "Do you have more?!"


    "Well, dabbling indicates I would. Isn''t that right Chip dear?"


    "Are they anywhere in the house? Hung?"


    "Of course not."


    "Well, why not?"


    Why haven''t I ever seen any of my father''s works? Why have I never seen a thing? Had they just been kept secret? Locked up in this underground room? Or did I just miss it, like I missed so many other things. Did...did Lilyanne know?


    Of course she did. She was our family''s little artist, a prodigy.


    Of course she knew. Father is the source of it then, her biggest patron. Providing more tools than I thought possible. More things I don''t know despite living in it.


    The room is warming up but I can feel my heart hardening further, chilling like the ground outside. That''s right, that''s the smart thing to do. There''s no use in getting caught up in unavoidable things from the past. I was just...born the wrong one. That''s it, nothing I already don''t know.


    "Well for one that would be far too shameful with my lackluster skills. I dabble. I''m no artist."


    The ice cracks, only out of sheer exasperation. Is father being sarcastic or is he playing some stupid trick test at me?


    "Riiiiight, you''re no artist. You made THAT," I point in frustration, " and you''re not an artist. Everyone else who does commissions for their livings must be cavemen then, playing with paints."


    "Well....I did make that too." father remarks. To my confusion look back at him, he thankfully elaborates. "The frame, I carved and painted that too. The gold paint cost thousands for me to figure out the right mix."


    "....WHAT?! Why are you so good at too many things!?!! That''s not fair! That''s not humanly fair?!!" I screech


    I turn around so hard I might have gotten carper burn to point in accusation. My mood matching the warm flames behind me with my indignation. What is with this nerd?!!


    More importantly, why are you so unfair in the genetic distribution, both you and mother!?!! From magic powers to the not exactly but might as well be magic art? All the beauty and blessings. WTF? Where do I sue? Who do I sue? No one! Could you have spared a tidge more of the good genes? Noooooo, instead, I get things like motion sickness or reddening hair.


    My father makes a hateful chuckle at my pointing and toddler screaming. I''m sure I sound just adorable in that high pitched way babies do but still. This isn''t fair? Father himself is not fair? The way he''s standing there, arms crossed and shaking his awful good looking chicken head while gently smiling in the warm firelight is really really not fair.


    "Ah...a spitting image." he sounds so fond that I waver, almost getting distracted.


    A spitting image? Are we talking Lilyanne again? Geez stop getting so distracted nerd, I can''t help it if my little sister and I are twins. I should be used to the comparison but I still can''t help the exasperated sigh and painful bug bite somewhere in my heart.


    It''s too early for this shit, and I''m not just talking about the time of day.


    Now I could pout, I could ignore it because I am a perfectly reasonable adult who knows how to cut my losses. Or I could smack someone with this pillow? Hmm choices choices?


    I get to act on none of them when father drops to the floor, knees to carpet, slightly chilled piano hands to my chubby cheeks.


    "And how are you feeling today darling?"


    Cold fingertips feel very good for the room is very toasty yes, I have spent too long too close to the fireplace. Must be overheating like the tiny little mochi that I am. Unfortunately, I cannot move with father in my way like that, smiling unfairly like that. It''s a slight one, just a pleasant upturn of lips against his usual face rather than his business smile or the sappy one reserved for mother. I don''t miss the stupid almost worshipful look he makes when glancing up at mother''s portrait for a quick second before his eyes settle on me again.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Direct eye contact like that makes me fidget. It makes me feel a little, a lot, like another little girl who shared my name. A Rosalia who was always nervous and desperate for her father''s approval, following futilely behind him like a lost chick.


    The harpsichord was horrible and she still played it. Lessons were tedious and the bloody mistakes were countless but she still bore through them. The horses were tall and terrifying and she still learned to ride until it was easier than as breathing.


    All for what?


    The chance to be looked at, just once, the way her sister was daily.


    How sad, how cheap.


    How desperately easily that girl would have sold herself to be in my socks right now.


    I can still see it, for they are just as much my own memories now as they are the original''s. Peeking from the door crack, too nervous, too unwanted to step in. To ruin the moment. A young and frail Lilyanne at her seat and easel, happily turned to show busy busy father her progress. That stern stuffy man would turn soft, turn loving, praises for every brush and stroke. A loving and doting father as any.


    The next day, he would be too busy again.


    Even if Rosalia was in the same room as him, he wouldn''t look at her. Not like that. No matter how fast Rosalia chased, no matter the beast steed, trailing right behind her father, it was like she could never catch up. He wouldn''t slow down nor would he ever look back.


    Yet he always managed to make time for dear Lilyanne, sitting pretty on her perch.


    I can still see it. The beautiful little girl on the balcony.


    When the weather was good Lilyanne would sit and paint on balcony overlooking the south. Within a certain range from the inner roads, we could look up and see Lilyanne sitting there. Paints out and in all her preciously childish finery, unworried about getting them dirty. Mother and Father would just buy her another if she got paint on and ruined another dress.


    She herself looked like a painting, so serene and high above. Rosalia remembers that view, often looking up from below.


    Far in front of her, father would speedily gallop on either Gino or Damask, as if to get home to his beloved family a minute faster. Even a minute meant a lot in his packed schedule. From above would wave Lily, sometimes joined by mother.


    It was a very idyllic sort of scene. One that didn''t include her.


    There was a time when that nervous child didn''t follow home. When that Rosalia, hardly much older than the primary schooler are now, just...stopped. She got sick of seeing her father''s back, riding towards the waving angel sitting up above. Everyone has a snapping point, a too tired to go on moment in their lives.


    She stopped to see what would happen, to see what he would do. If her father would scold her or tell her to hurry, to see if he would even notice.


    If anyone would notice?


    She kept her horse steady, letting it graze on grass and wildflowers, and no one stopped her. No one came, not a servant and certainly not her father. She didn''t return home for hours, not till dark. Turned her steed around and rode off like a common boy, anywhere and everywhere. Just away.


    When she finally trotted back to the stables, working up the courage to face what must surely end in punishment, no one was waiting for her.


    No fussing servents.


    No scolding mother.


    And most certainly, no father, for he wasn''t even home. His duties at the courts called him away once more. Many times more after that.


    Rosalia might as well not have come back that night either, for no one even noticed. No one even cared.


    It was so silent.


    Suddenly I am feeling very tired. Looking straight at this face that never turned back to look at me, I can''t bring myself to feel much. Not angry, or out for revenge, not even annoyed. I''m just very...tired. Like a worn down pony, spent after days of nonstop riding and trained tricks. Tired and aching.


    "Rosalia- are you still feeling the effects of the poison? Illness?" Father comes even closer than he already, far past the acceptable limits.


    *smack*


    I have to stop it with a cushion, though my hit to his face is weak. I''m too tired and I don''t want this face any closer. I don''t want anyone any closer.


    "I''m fin-" I start, my mouth automatic.


    It''s my own words that jolt me out of the fog that suddenly overcomes me. Those words sounded so tragically hateful coming from another child''s mouth. ''I''m fine.''


    I think about that woman I''m not anymore, crying ''I''m fine'' to anyone willing to listen. As if they could make her believe it herself. I think about the ones who wouldn''t. Who would gently drag her kicking and screaming with the truth that she wasn''t? I don''t want to think about them, him, but I do.


    I think about a too small boy that lies even when he''s not saying anything. The convincingly empty "I''m fine" served with an ever-present soft smile.


    I think about how I hate it.


    "Rosalia? Does it hurt anywhere? Feel uncomfortable? Do I need to take you back?" flusters father, getting increasingly nervous. His expressionless face the very opposite with the worry and nerves he''s showing.


    "....no."


    "Are you feeling alright my Rosalia?"


    "....no."


    "Do you want to go back to the sickbay? I can call for Ga-"


    "No."


    "How about some sleep then? It''s still quite earlier than you''re used to."


    I can feel myself making a slow nod to father''s suggestion. If I go to sleep, if I don''t think, don''t remember anymore, then will the tired draining feeling in my chest go away? WIll it stop beating like mad when anyone is ever nice to me?


    "What else can I get for you Rosa?"


    This man is simultaneously not my father, he is but he''s not the one from those memories. Not exactly. I don''t know where I''m going with this or where it''s going wrong.


    "Nothing," I squeak out, willing myself not to lie, not to myself. Not like that. I will myself to stop trying and the words float out like a line of smoke from the flames. Smooth and unbreaking, even as it disappears.


    "Nothing, don''t go anywhere to get anything. You don''t have to get me anything... "


    "There''s nothing you want Chip? Just some sleep? Not even a new toy?"


    "...Stay."


    "A stay?"


    "Stay with me when I sleep. Be there when I wake up. Don''t go anywhere too far. Don''t leave me behind anymore. Don''t leave."


    Don''t leave. Don''t die.


    Not again.


    I''m sleepy. It''s because I''m small and so sleepy that my eyes get teary again. I have to rub and wipe them on my father''s shirt when he near crushes me into his chest with a sudden embrace. The cloak is gone but I grip and burrow into him just the same as before.


    I don''t want to think anymore, it''s too early for this. Let''s talk more later about something more interesting than this.


    If there''s no bed here then this is fine, just let me sleep here. It''s not the smartest place to nap, I know, not the smartest place to be. Right now though, I''m small enough. Without having to do anything further I''m tucked in somewhere between what feels like a soft wool coat and body heat. A slightly too loud out of tune metronome beats against my ear. Better than silence. It beats, first too fast and before slowing down, somehow matching my own. I''m lulled back to sleep by that strange steading sound, a heartbeat metronome.


    ---------

 96 Good morning my love.

    This room is awesome.


    Where was this place all my life and why did no one ever tell me, the young head mistress Ventralla, about it? It''s literally in my own backyard, underneath it to be more exact. It''s a treasure pit of nerdom, father''s studio. That''s what I''m calling it now.


    Though for some odd reason it gives me some strange speakeasy bar vibes. Though that could be the dark cherry wood bar area and various cabinets of alcohol. That corner wall of wooden wine and spirits barrels help a lot.


    For some odd reason, I also get the feeling Grampa is down here a fair amount.


    Now it could be that great variety of alcohol, not too dissimilar to some of the barrelled contents I passed by in Gabe''s brewery once upon a night. Or it could be those creepy life sized carved bears, teeth and all, acting as decorative pillars? Perhaps it could be the coincidence that the second most common drafting papers and parchments pinned on the corkboards are designs of weapons or something else that''s believably ''modern'' such as plumbing systems or flight dynamics. There''s even perfect hot air balloons! I think he uses those occasionally for intelligence or scouting? All with grampa''s signature blocky chicken scratches for handwriting.


    Unlike my father''s beautifully flowing cursive I have to squint struggle to decipher what I''m guessing are grampa''s notes. Nope, still can''t read them. Must be that bad of handwriting, or it''s written in code.


    God damn it, it''s another code, isn''t it?


    I can''t read a thing, the past Rosalia only managed to crack and fluently learn one of grampa''s codes, maybe two. The ones used in the territory management documents or with politics. The only reason she managed to crack them was because of Alfonso.


    Blessed be Alfonso. My seemingly perfect not at all questionable butler. I wonder what became of him when I died? Did he move on to solely serve Lilyanne as he did with me after father? Or could that old man finally retire? I doubt it...


    Oh would you look at that one! Father what are you working on? I see grampa''s notes too.


    I am liking that 8 tiered watermills sketched out, much likey. Pictures are universal, no need to crack a code there. Is it using the force of a rushing downstream river? Isn''t that practically a conveniently sloped waterfall? How naturally effective. Where is that? If the mirror draft is not a well-placed copy then that would make it a twin mill with 16 structures total with at least 8 stories! That''s some powerful stuff, if it''s not being used as a general mill then it would make a decent generator.


    Oh but the knowledge of electric power hasn''t been discovered in this world. We''re too far technology-wise, that''s like asking to fly before we even learn to crawl. How terribly inconvenient this world is.


    Anyways where is this ideal spot and when is it being built?


    Ahem, getting distracted. I fear I may do that a lot in here?


    It''s a very fun space especially since I''ve been locked up in a near-empty quarantine lately. If it weren''t for the natural distractions from the boys I may have jumped the balcony out of boredom. I got a chalkboard installed in the sick bar after my slate broke from a very heated game of Pictionary. Lukas sucks at playing according to rules and even without any proof, I''m pretty sure Amar cheats. Cursed brats!


    But what can I do? Entertainment is lacking here.


    Our library isn''t exactly small but this world''s standards are something else. The types of books and contents aren''t much to talk about. When combined with my last life, I''ve read essentially everything in there. It''s more formal documents than an actual library with things people would want read. It''s room to work, study and store references, not to entertain. How dull.


    I also suspect the few adventure epics in there are not so subtle fanfiction-y odes to my grampa? How disgusting.


    The office in father''s wing of our home is much more interesting of a place to explore. Perhaps because it''s a good touch more personal, with all of my father''s needed files and paperwork. There''s a smaller attached office on the side that I assume belongs to Alfonso. Out of respect, impenetrable nonmagical locks, and a warning sense of fear, I have never snuck in there. Still, father''s office is the most entertaining place to amuse myself outside of the kitchens and my soap rooms.


    I have now revised that list. The creepy underground studio is the most amusing. Just look at how much stuff is here!


    Now if only I can get out of my father''s lap and actually explore around and get closer looks at everything.


    You know when I said I wanted to nap I was thinking more say set on the couch, maybe even a corner of cushions. I wasn''t expecting the hug per say but it''s not too out the ordinary for father to take me into his arms. This, however?


    How do I fit into this jacket? How? Is there a built-in baby sling in here? I am a fully grown three year old, far too big to be slung around like this. Yes, it is comfortable, I admit, but it is too shameful to be treated like this.


    I''m not actually a baby you know?


    Father is so engrossed on his work that he doesn''t notice my wake up squirming. I can see it in his focused face and glazed golden eyes, and ahhh it''s too bright to look out. I understand there''s no sunlight down here but it''s just too bright. Back to the paperwork.


    To be fair the intricacies of designing a multi-tiered mammoth of a watermill is very distracting. 8 stories of mills!


    "Those stairs should be bigger." I pipe out, making myself known.


    "Hmmm but does it truly need to be? That would mean expansion on this area here." the nerd taps with his feathered pen, not reacting properly to a toddler in his top at all.


    "It''s a mountain, just clear some rocks and make space." I point back.


    "That''s essentially what honored father suggested. It''s so simple it might just work. I''m afraid that means more work on the platform leading uphill to ensure enough space and stabilization. The transport road has to be relocated further to the sides." he draws, scratching out on a charcoal map.


    With enough grabby motions, he hands me the wrapped charcoal and releases me with a pop of two buttons. I''m free! Ah I lost the toasty warmth though, eh no matter, fair trade.


    "Cut into the rock, open staircase plan each floor and build platforms from the natural terrain. But if the stairs and working space aren''t wide enough, that''s too much of a safety risk. Mills get crowded. Instead of just stairs, you can build ramps with tractioned floors inside for transport. I agree with moving the outer roads though."


    "Hmm a tad inconvenient for people to get to the top deck. The pullies only feasibly operate to the back for workers inside. "


    "Only two is too inconvenient, what if one breaks down? At least make it four, the building is big enough for that. Four elevator- er I mean pulleys and the stairs on both sides."


    "I see, the workers would converge there. I was planning a pulley system to the side of the mills to make up for that number. What you''re suggesting is at least 8 then."


    "Why not both? Everyone needs more eleva- pullies. Also, it''s not a tower? It doesn''t need to be spiraled! Make the stairs safer by making it squared, give them breaks."


    "...."


    Father tries stopping my busy hand the moment I start drawing square stairs but I swat him away. I see your spirals and circle preference but no, spiral staircases are for tight spaces and looking cool, not building safety. Oh but a few little ones couldn''t hurt for convenience, they do look cool. Oh, can there be fireman poles?


    I have a feeling that I''ve gotten distracted again from some much more important things. My sister, my fiancee, ensuring my future survival as the cursed Rosalia Therese Ventrella, make some more money etc, etc.


    But the construction standards of stairs are important!


    "Chip dear I believe I see your point..."


    "No no no you don''t. Spirals are great for defending a structure from intruders but this is for work. Efficiency is much more effective in wide space and blocks when building. Ah, of course, the wheels are most important but in building tall structures? Too inefficient in a mill. More pullies systems, the troops'' pulley elevators are always packed in the main buildings. Blocks."


    ".....I see....Rosa darling, would you like something to drink? It''s past the morning meal time."


    "No I need to finish this, oops I drew that wrong, grrr, *scribble scribble*"


    "When did you learn to draw in dimensions? Have you always just seen the world in dimensions? DO all small children? Fascinating. Those blasted stairs are hideous- no I mean ...it looks quite fine. Fine. Now how about we put down papa''s charcoal. Have some morning refreshments?"


    "No, I gotta finish this. I''ll eat later*cough* So I recommend 12 steps per section with 24 steps to a floor. Tractions on the edges, like this see. It can be built with lines scratched in or attached. Also, can you talk to grampa about fixing the pullies in the troops? Everyone always complains but that''s because they crowed them too much. The stairs suck so get grampa on that too. Oh hard rails, oh I messed that up tooo grrrrr! Cursed chubby hands! So.."


    "I see... this is how Maria views me..."


    "What was that? Did you say something about mother!?"


    It''s just instinct at this point to quickly look around, careful for any signs of the big boss. Thankfully the scariest thing here is still just her painting overlooking us. Ah, how unnerving. Does it have to be so big and imposing?


    I don''t think even Lilyanne got a painting that large?


    My idol of a sister got a lot of them, a lot of things in general made in her honor. Some....better than other? Eh, alright fine, some guys just sucked, period. Should not paint, should never have even picked up the charcoal or pen or whatever they used. Being the sensitive and artistically inclined soul that she was, Lilyanne gathered a certain crowd of admirers more fervently than the general public of adorers.


    Hiiiiiiipsters, err I mean cultivated and refined gentlemen. The sons of noble houses who could appreciate the genteel arts. While my sister was leagues ahead of the vast majority of them in terms of skill and talent that did not stop them from trying to impress her. Or just generally making fools of themselves. I must say, either the majority of noblemen''s sons are delusionally arrogant about their own skills or they''re just blind.


    Nevermind, that''s an insult to the visually disabled.


    I used to think those fanboys were perhaps mad enough for the nuthouse. Perhaps the true psycho is the man that married mother?


    My god look at that detailing! The layers and dedication on that thing. Then the frame? That delicately scarved frame? How many weeks or years did it take?


    Ah, I heard myself speak out loud again. Father looks up in thought, analyzing his own ''dabbling'' craft projects.


    "The frame was worked on in pauses over time. Quite relaxing. The painting? Honestly, I can''t recall, but I was pleased with its progress for 2 weeks and unhappy with it for a good 3 months before your mother confiscated my tools. Something about wasting all my time on an inanimate copy when the original was standing right there."


    "Oh. Yes I can see that. Father you do have the habit of losing yourself and all sense of time in work."


    "Yes....I have since noticed."


    "Have you now? Really? It''s not all that bad if you know what you''re doing and where you''re placing your priorities but make time for mother ok? She gets lonely easily and pouts a lot, even more than me. And I''m three."


    "Hmmm I yes I certainly see now."


    "Do you?"


    I can see it through, an irritated mother tapping her foot and fussing around behind an overworking father. Actually no need to imagine it, for I recall that happening a lot in the last lifetime.


    Sometimes she would even snap from the worry.


    Usually, her code of conduct is quite proper for a lady of the house. She maintains the home and estate, creating a comfortable and clean space for her lord husband to return to. But when father got increasingly busy, when he became the official prime minister of the republic and started working intimately with other nations, particularly my fiancee''s country- then there were more times he wouldn''t return at all.


    Which in turn would cause her mood to sink and tank. I would know, for the little girl thirsty for her mother''s love was always watching. Always waiting. For what now, I''m not sure? A chance to slip in? To make herself useful, known? But that would be selfish, and mother was always so tired at the end of the day. It was enough to just get a glimpse of mother, even if for a moment more. Afterall being tired was simply normal for their lives, right?


    What a pathetic little girl.


    It was a rather poignantly tragic scene though, to watch a beautiful flower shrivel up like it had died. Over and over again each day. Bloom and die.


    That''s what watching mother was like. When she was waiting tenderly at the window for father''s fastest return. For when she sat and sobbed over Lilyanne''s bedside or lingered by the balcony at night. No matter what she did the night before, the next day would come and Maria Ventrella would gracefully descend the main stairs and start the day anew. Dressed to the tens and gorgeous as ever, if on the frail and delicate side. But that was good right? Attractive in the way women in romantic poems were admired to be, withered like a leaf ready to blow away.


    How stupid.


    People who overly romanticize sadness or tragedy have it too good. They get bored in their cushy lives and have nothing better to do or think about. What so good about a sickly sad woman? No one wants to get sick in the first place.


    Stupid girl, it wasn''t beautiful.


    Suffering silently won''t get you anything worthwhile. Putting on a brave face of make up the next day may be a necessity yes but it isn''t the solution. Never was. Silly Rosalia learned the wrong indirect lessons from her mother dearest.


    Mastered all the wrong lessons with the skills and determination worthy of her prided name.


    "Father? If you had to choose between work and mama, what would you choose?" I absently scrawl, my hand scribbling nonsense.


    I get a little lost in the oddly frustrating doodle, given the time father takes the answer. His breath short, as if he gasped it all out and needed time to refill his lungs. Shadows on paper streaking and forming from shapeless blobs.


    "It''s all for your mama, that I work so much. Everything is for her." he breathes, simple as that.


    "That''s not an answer." I scrub, blurring charcoal in the right spots as best I can.


    It''s not a lie but it''s not an answer either, I''m getting some unfortunate practice with telling the difference. I don''t think my father is conscious that he''s doing it either. He sounds offended even. How silly, nerds are so easy to push sometimes.


    "Father I know it''s not fair to pick because they''re very different. But sometimes you don''t get the time or chance. If there was a fire, say a great fire has erupted and you only have but a minute to grab what you can and run. What do you do? What do you pick to take with you? What can''t you live without?"


    I abandon the charcoal lump not simply out of frustration but because I''m done with it. I''m not skilled enough to work magic out of one thing. I have to use other mediums, say father''s ink pen.


    "Maria. You. All of you. If a fire erupted right at this second I''d take you and run. Run all the way to your mother and sister and then some." Father gives me bluntly, unhesitating.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Is that so?" I messed up, dip and drip ink pens are hard to control. I have to hold and drag the tip oh so carefully.


    "Yes. Of course. How could it be anything else? The world could burn to ash and I wouldn''t care if it kept Maria and you girls safe. You''re all that matters."


    I maybe see why mother married this man. Just maybe.


    Sometimes this blunt mouth hits right where it hurts the best. Who wouldn''t want to hear words like that? But saying and doing are greatly different things. Just like how it takes a lot of work to turn these draft designs on paper into a feasible reality.


    "You''re going to be very busy soon father. Careful about what you pick." I keep scribbling a line of mess, not minding that there are long oversized arms tightly around me now.


    Father is going to be elected prime minister soon and then he''ll be busier than ever. Will he give up his building projects to make the time? Shame, I quite liked them. I wonder if I can talk to grampa about them? If that truly is his blocky handwriting that is. Funny how I never talk to him about building stuff, when he''s technically the only one I can talk about such things to. I''ve been so distracted. What a strange and funny thing that this nerd has been here taking my attention. Hidden all this time without my knowledge. It''s a little like this room.


    "What is my little devil trying to say today hmmm?" father chuckles, voice a little low and raspy.


    When he hugs me from behind, it stifles my movements further. I have to be even more careful in how I try to draw. I stick a tongue out in childish focus, ignoring the annoyance behind and around me. It''s no professional work in any world but I feel oddly frustrated lately, so I have to finish it.


    "Nothing much father, I don''t know what I''m saying either. I''m only three."


    "That''s not what it sounds like to me my dear. You''ve always been very keen and strange, not just for your years. Always. The things I don''t know about, things I do and have left buried, things you shouldn''t and can''t possibly know but do. It''s a certain breed of peculiar that could so easily be lost and withered if left alone."


    "Is that so? You should then stop me when I do it. I don''t know where the limits are sometimes."


    "I''m afraid I can''t Chip my dear. "


    "Well why not? That''s rather irresponsible of you father."


    "I''m afraid Chip, that they''re all right and you veritably a chip off the block. Forgive me then, that I can''t stop you when I don''t know where the lines are myself. The game perhaps, how to act, how to behave can be rigorously pounded into your head. Into mine. Pins and nails that easily be undone. As it may you, one day. You''re already learning how to play. But how to be? Truly? I can''t teach you what I don''t know. Try your mama''? She''s better at that part."


    "Did you know you''re a very strange sort of father? I don''t think you can be calling me strange."


    "I can say so because I am myself. "


    When I put down the pen with a huff, I can finally register the warmth covering the top of my head. Father''s gross mouth and face softly nestled in my hair. I can''t say for how long he must have stayed that way. It feels like he''s comfortably napping away holding a stuffed animal.


    That''s me I suppose.


    The clatter of the pen and my stretching of sore baby hands rouses father, getting his attention.


    My charcoal smeared palms are captured and cleaned up with a warm moist towel that father fishes out from some overly expensive device with only one purpose. This one, to keep clean up towels wet and warm. Due to his own hands being even blacker than mine, I find the action both a bit laughable and a waste of time.


    How about you focus on yourself a little more you strange nerd? Can''t help anyone if you don''t help yourself first. It''s just common sense.


    My own hands get dirty again cleaning my rather useless father up, who is now suddenly limp and nonfunctional Hey, a little more effort on your part? You were just doing it earlier? Did you fall asleep? Don''t make me do all of the work, I''m tiny. Everything is a lot more effort for me.


    In the end, I''m stuck with stubbornly gray hands until my father cleans us both up, blowing away the dust and sediments left on what''s not yet dry.


    "What do you have there Rosa my dear?" he asks for show, already picking up the wasted drafting paper that I chose to scribble on.


    I answer fairly, with nothing to hide. "Nothing."


    It''s a scribble. A child''s fidgety drawing. Nothing more.


    "I quite like it."


    "You like a lot of things father. From wheels and vegetables to butter churners and dabbling fearsome portraits. You keep liking too many odd things. I don''t think that counts for much??"


    "I suppose then, by your definition, it doesn''t. But I queerly happen to fancy it all none the less. May I keep it?"


    "Hmm it''s better off in the trash? But I can''t stop you so I''ll allow it."


    "I am indebted to your favor my Chip dear."


    Right now father looks like those awkwardly doting parents that just have to keep their child''s kindergarten macaroni projects. Even years later then the grown kid begs them to throw the embarrassing mess away. It won''t get to that point but I somehow get the feeling I should regret this more.


    Eh whatever, I got better things to do or think about.


    Also, I suddenly feel oddly chilled again? For no reason? The fireplace is going just fine?


    "Ohohohoho Frederick dear! Are you down there?~ Oh my looooove~ Where did you run off today hmmm? Don''t think I don''t know what you did~ "


    The jump scare of hearing that laugh is more than enough to send me crashing into a more typical mindset. Say panicking. How is mother''s voice in hearing distance?! We''re underground!?


    "Father....am I supposed to be here?" I shake.


    "Well, where else?" he questions smoothly perfectly confident and comfortable.


    Right...there''s no way father would disobey mother? I haven''t been taken off like stolen loot in the middle of the night. He dotes on her too much. I''m safe right? She won''t come hunting for me right?


    "There there, you''re perfectly safe from those beasts." father smiles, his voice soothing where as his words are a tad confusing.


    Did you mean to say beast? Because that was most certainly her voice and I have no idea where it came from. Oh but that is such a rude to address mother. Seriously though where did the source of that sound come from?


    How blood-curling!


    "Chip my demiurgic little scamp, are you feeling discomfort? Are you able to breathe alright there?" father pets and pats at me while I pray to him for some form of assurance.


    "Will....will mother find us?"


    "Oh absolutely yes. "


    "...."


    I sigh with a nervous resignation. I swear mother wasn''t ever so scary in the last life. What''s gotten into her? Or me?


    I can''t see her yet I most definitely heard her, so it is inevitable. I take to climbing back into the burrow jacket to hide, no complaints here. Let the horror movie begin! Bring it on!


    *Screeekch*


    It''s a good thing I already hid myself under the father blanket because a scary movie jump scare really does appear where I least expect it.


    "Oh there you are! I thought it was fishy to wake up this morning without even a warning! Oh darling how could you be so cold?!"


    The barrels! Some of the barrels beside the bar has opened up a secret door! We have a secret door in the secret room!? A secret underground passageway? This really is a speakeasy! Is that what the gun rack is for?


    What else do I not know about my own house? My life? Rosalia the original, some answers here? Oh, but of course that girl wouldn''t know let alone answer me. She''s too busy making me feel weird things.


    Right now the shock, fear and shame are all my own.


    Not only from the secret door and the sudden entrance of mother but...


    ...What. Is. She. Wearing?!?!?!!!


    "Oh Frederick! The other noble matrons warned me this would happen one day. The day you sneak off in the middle of the night to prance around with a younger girl, oh boohoo. I never thought that day would come so soon."


    I don''t understand and I won''t want to understand!!! Father why aren''t we running for our lives? Oh no he''s useless! Just useless!


    Like my own horror movie ghost mother stands there in all white. Nothing but a delicately fluffy nightgown and even thinner lacy shawl. All that does nothing to hide her voluptuous curves and lack of propriety. The ribbon string hangs loosely around bare creamy looking shoulders, flushed a bit in cold. The center of rumpled collars dipping and draping into the great soft valleys of death. An undone waterfall of gloriously commercial-worthy curly hair curtains for the barest sense of modesty over the admittedly pretty but flimsy gown.


    How inappropriate! How scandalous! No lady should ever appear like this outside the privacy of her own dressing room let alone in the day time?! Does she truly sleep like that!? When?! That''s not a safe sanctioned camisca or chemise or anything?


    Oh the shame. But mortifying shame and scandal work horrifyingly well to root my dumb and whipped nerd of a father into his chair. I have no more hope for him or of escaping. I should have picked a better hiding spot.


    As she moves, the flutter of her long nightgown gives mother the appearance of supernaturally floating across the floor. Her steps unnaturally slow, controlled like a predator to its prey. A weak man or thirsty woman may even call the sight alluring in the light, unholy seductive but I know the truth.


    It''s too scary! Mama please no. Take father, it''s all his fault. Don''t eat me!


    ...Wait don''t eat father either?!?! No not until I escape! Nooooooo!


    "I thought it was suspicious how early you had us retire last night." she pouts as if wronged, as if she doesn''t hold the very tight leash to our lives. "Were you only so thoroughly sweet and lovely for this?"


    Big brown deadly wolf eyes water in a charming puppy dog mockery, for her body posture, leans over the desk in perfect intimidation. Trapping us further behind what should be a shelter against her.


    I was wrong. Mother isn''t frail or delicate at all. My original memories are all wrong and I can''t even blame anyone. I don''t know exactly how I know this but I just do. Hakfldjaslkjwerf AAAAHHHHH someone get me out of here!


    "Now Maria beloved, did you walk all the way here like that? It must have been freezing. My poor darling wife."


    He''s not deflecting. The whipped father is just that stupid in front of mother and her natural weapons. I''m not even looking at him to know where his line of sight is going.


    AAAAAAAhhhhhh gotta go gotta go now. How do I get out of the baby burrow prison without making it obvious to be caught?!


    "Oh darling, of course, I''m cold! I spent half the night ignorant and alone. The better part of the morning prowling for your lost pretty red head. "


    "So you think it''s pretty now?"


    "I''m thinking about whether I should let you keep it my darling."


    "Take it. It''s already yours. How would you like it served my love?"


    AHHHHHHHHH gotta go! But where do I go? This is punishment enough, please release me. I give, I volunteer to be grounded! Just get me away from this grossness!!!


    Mother lets out a huff and a sigh, probably at the sight of my panicked squirming. I''m very big and stand out very much as the lump under father''s jacket I''m sure.


    "I would have liked it rumpled in my bed this morning. Really now Frederick? When I said the next day I did not mean for you to so swiftly break out Rosalia right after the stroke of midnight."


    "It was not anywhere near midnight my love, I was still quite preoccupied at that time. Something you sat the sole witness to."


    He smiles up at her, pleasanter than ever with poor little me in his grasp. I fear and suspect that father is using my squishy small body as a deterrent shield for there is no smacking. Fear her as I may, she has never once hit nor smacked me and that is a testimony to just how scary mother is. I fear her beyond the realm of the physical.


    If I peek out the pocket, even for a split-seconds I can see a great staring contest with lots of scary smiling and unspoken tension in the air. If I turn my head even a little then I am met with the overwhelming bounty of cleavage, pushed up from the desk.


    I shall now forcibly blind myself by hiding in darkness once again. Wake me up when it''s all over.


    But that is not what happens, for a sweet small lady''s hand has grasped me out the safety pouch like a machine claw game to a dangling toy.


    "My utmost divine love, that''s not what I mean by ''take it''. Wrong head." weakly protests father.


    "Oh my bad Frederick darling, I just can''t tell with all this red."


    I am it. How rude. Like the toy prize I am, mother has me snuggled and trapped into death valley without the interference of her daywear layers. This hasn''t happened for many months now and never in a nightie this provocatively bare. I have very mixed feelings about everything but I am sure that I am very very very uncomfortable.


    I should have stayed with the kiddies.


    It gets worse, for instead of removing me entirely from this awkward tension, mother plops herself down entirely into father''s awaiting lap. Just sits right down as if it were her personal chair. Which, it probably is.


    "Oh Frederick darling, you''re so awfully right, I am terribly cold. As my husband, it is your decreed duty to see to the matter." mother speaks haughtily.


    Next, she could say off with my head and the sickly sweet voice still fits with father''s automatic response.


    "Yes dear."


    Blanket and cloth drowns me as my mother snuggles me in closer to father''s warm chest. I try staying very still, just like they teach you against wild predating animals. Maybe if you stay very still and very quiet, they''ll think you''re dead and leave you alone.


    "And the path back is so terribly long and cold, you must carry me and our babe back in due time."


    "It will be my honor dear, your tender feet aren''t to even touch the unworthy ground."


    He makes to lift her up princess style, which mother responds to with a rather cutesy feminine squeal, tightening her cuddling hold. It is to my great mortification that I''m stuck on top, a bug trapped along for the high speed ride.


    "Oh darling, not right at this moment. I am still quite chilled and feeling weak. Your silly men''s parlor is very good and warm."


    "Why how unfoundedly thoughtless of me, of course, dear."


    The ride takes a sharp U-Turn from where he was going and drops us all right onto the nearby couch with him. Mother and mine''s soft body weight combined to crush the unfortunate man below us without a single complaint. Throughout the entire ordeal, mother''s arms have secured me into place as the ultimate seat belt. When settled, she gives another happy squeal and fangirlish head rub into my father''s neck and chest.


    It could be a very sweet and romantic scene if not for me, dab right in the middle. This is a gross couple cuddle disaster. How do I get off?!


    "Comfortable there darlings? Still cold my love?" hums father over the crackling of the fire.


    "Oh yes quite. Rosalia makes an excellent coal burner. Look how easily she heats up," mother graces me with some more fresh air and the shame of being known by holding me up for display. I have every good reason to be furiously ashamed. This is too much of being a third wheel, too much. I have been reduced dumb from confused embarrassment. "Look darling this is you."


    Fathe raises an eyebrow at that, reaching over to poke at my extremely hot ear, causing me to yelp in sensitive shock. What was that?!


    "I do not." he sounds mildly offended.


    Mother hold me up even higher, bouncing me up and down as if I were a toy baby.


    "Yes you do, that''s how red you get when you get embarrassed."


    "Hmmm, inconclusive evidence. Your claim holds no weight. Do you have any more direct evidence to present?"


    Mother pecks him on the cheek with an exaggerated smack, to which he mockingly shrugs at.


    "Anything else?"


    She goes in for the kill and I die. I know it because father''s larger hand reaches around mother''s shoulders to not only hold her properly but to fully cover my innocent eyes to what ensues next.


    They must linger for too many seconds too long before finally pulling away with an audibly wet smack. Father''s fingers falling down, brushing against my face.


    If they would just release me. Please mother, I''m so sorry for everything I have yet to do. Please let me go.


    "I am not seeing the same effects" he gestures with much contained bravado. First at his own mildly attractive blush, then to my red hot coal furnace of a face.


    Where did father''s shame go?! Where?!!! It''s our home away from the public eye but I''m right here?!! Have they been desensitized to me?! Was it from that one time we do not speak of?


    For shame!


    Mother smacks my cheeks with her loose lips, squishing my cheek with her own face to feel for temperature, shaking me out of the blankets.


    "Oh dear, you''re quite right. To be fair though I think Rosalia has gotten too warm."


    "Of course Maria, whatever do you take me for? " his smile is small but radiates a triumphant and arrogant air.


    I don''t know why though. What for? We get it, you''re so gross. So gross.


    This time both of mother''s hands cover my eyes again but I can still hear. Hear loud and clear mother''s evil giggles and the wretched yelp of shock and pain, just pain- nothing else- no, nothing else, that must be my father''s.


    "Oh hohohoho~ There we go! Shame shade. "


    When those gentle hands release me and I can, unfortunately, see again, father is clutching his right ear while turning increasingly redder than his hair. Forget carrots, that''s a tomato. The shame is back so full force that he takes to hiding himself in my mother''s hair, burying himself into the back crook of her laughing neck.


    What a pink rosy atmosphere. I''m going to be so so very sick...


    ...That''s it! What''s the one thing that could ensure any child''s escape? It''s a cheap move but by god it always works. It even worked on me!


    "Bathroom! I have to go use the bathroom now!"


    Now that gets my parents'' attention, sobering them up from their lovey-dovey mood instantly.


    "....Pardon?"


    "Oh dear I think she was quite clear enough. Oh Rosa, can you hold it till we get to....


    "I gotta go nooooowwwww," I whine, still very red in the face.


    "Oh dear. Frederick darling?"


    "Yes Maria, on it dear."


    I would have been fine if they would just point me in the right direction but no, again life does not work out the way I want it to. For father has maneuvered and carried me off to somewhere behind the bear carvings, leaving mother snug on the sofa. Escape from the gross couple only partially complete.


    Funny thing is I actually do have to go now.


    --------


    ----


    --


    Mission complete! The darling husband has been found and captured!


    Well practically captured. Nature calls and children are just so delicate you know? Poor Rosalia, her daughter was tossed and thrown around to her father''s frivolous whims this whole time. That''s why she had to keep them separate while Rosalia was recuperating, for their own good.


    The maids are still finding cheese in her Lilyanne''s precious hair after a day with Frederick?


    Maria thought it was odd when her darling, who normally finds all sorts of ways to still work on something, offered to have them retire early for the evening. Oh, but she was lured in by the promises of sweet nothings under the sound of his playing. A hot bath, a well-deserved massage, kisses more intoxicating than wine by perhaps the most devilishly handsome lad in the world.


    It was everything and more than any maid, young or old, could ever dream for.


    Until she actually fell asleep that is.


    Out like a light. There was no sweet anything after her bath, did she fall asleep in there again? When did that happen? Oh, she shouldn''t have had that second well poured glass of sherry, or was it third? Curses, but her darling looked too delectable personally pouring and serving her hand and foot.


    The not-quite steamy enough memory had her rolling around the sofa going "kyaaa kyaaa!!!~".


    Though she had just teased and had good fun at her darling''s expense, that''s only because of her innocent daughter''s presence in the room. In private he could reduce her to a puddle of happy tears but in public, Frederick can hardly bring himself to kiss her hand. They just passed that threshold only a few short years ago.


    Though that shy reserved side of him was too terribly cute, if not terribly vexing at times. Oh and the colors that he makes.


    Her drool was stopped as Maria did feel some slight apprehension towards the future of her eldest. If Rosalia was as much Frederick''s child as she feared, if her darling firstborn stayed as easily shy and adorable as she is now wouldn''t that just invite hungry bullies?!


    Oh no her daughter was just too cute! Just like Frederick! So easy to tickle and fluster, to make redder than a winterberry or summer''s sweetest fruits. Too easy.


    Oh dear. What to do?


    More guards? Oh but both Maria and Frederick had hated the idea of restricting their children the way they were. Say as they might, Maria is sure her husband already had his people assigned in the shadows. She never saw a sign of them but Maria would like to think she knew her darling well enough at this point? They''ve only known each other for about 20 or so years, which is far behind what her papa'' had but it was something quite considerable to her.


    Ah the memory of a small Frederick, chubby red cheeks and even redder hair had her clutching her racing heart with a cushion, rolling around even more violently going ''kyaaa kyaaa!''.


    Cuteness could conquer the world.


    She wonders if Rosalia would grow to resemble her father more and more as she grew up? Maria had never seen what her darling had looked like in his earliest days. It was easy to mistake her as a boy with the way she went around, oh and her little redding curls were so much more smooth and manageable than Maria''s ever was.


    At that moment Maria had entirely forgotten the matter of her eldest child having a fiancee or being possibly threatened by bullies hungry to pull at cute pigtails.


    For 1. she is not her anxious responsible husband and two. Typically she was the one doing the metaphorical pigtail pulling. Preferably on pretty poncy little redheads with their smooth rose petal locks and smart pretty flowing words....when they weren''t being horribly rude that was. Or when her anger didn''t get the better of her young self.


    Ah those were hard times. Innocent and precious in their own way but...quite hard. Darling was always running away from her since the start wasn''t he?


    Somehow though, she felt that it was harder to chase after their own shared daughter than her husband back then. Shouldn''t it be the other way around?


    Oh perhaps this is what Gable dearest meant when he said she was a handful as a child? The problem was that Maria had such small hands and two very big handfuls that were her girls.


    It is with all self honesty that Maria had always though her youngest would be her biggest source of pain and troubles. Her largest guilt. For Lilyanne to be born with such power but not a healthy suitable enough body to last her. It didn''t matter if Rosalia would show no talents in magic all her life, not even a spark. Darling and her would take care of it all, so long as she was healthy. It was Lilyanne to worry for.


    Contrary to her expectations, to her greatest blessings both prayed for and not, it really was the firstborn that kept her on her toes. Even before Lilyanne''s illness was discovered and practically cured, Rosalia had such bad habits of wandering and running off.


    A playful and curious child, with all the wonder but none of the magic to keep her from harm''s way. She was as soft and easy to break as her father had been back then, no, even more so given her age! Oh and she was a girl too!


    To hear that their Rosalia was blessed with magic, though in a confusingly unexpected way, made Maria sigh with great relief. It was something. If she was ever thrown off a mountain, sunk into the sea or stuck facing dire odds against man eating beasts, then at least she had a chance. Oh but by all means, Maria would not allow such a thing to happen in the first place. Not again!


    But it''s quite hard to stop papa? Or the trouble that follows him? Things happen? Maria, unfortunately, knew that best.


    Why must all the men in her life be so terribly troublesome? So unreasonably dangerous but oh so wonderfully loveable? What a trade off.


    In was in the middle of a particularly strong roll, maybe thinking about ways to punish her darling for leaving her last night, that she knocked into his desk. She didn''t hit it too hard, but the top few papers went fluttering with the rattle.


    Oh dear.


    There was no one around to see her behave so unladylike, so it was fine right? She didn''t want to just leave darling''s wonderful hard work on the floor when it could be lost or trampled on! He already spent more than enough of his precious time on them. Let''s not waste anymore! Not like that painting.


    It was very sweet and beautiful yes but....who would want an extra large painting of themself? But if that''s how much darling loves her then who is she to deny his awkward manners and attempts to make her happy. That side of him is also cute.


    That''s how father and daughter found Maria when they returned from the designated ''bathroom'', behind the carved wooden sea bear. Yes, the beautiful and dignified mother Maria, looking around the floor on all fours and occasionally rolling around in a squealing joy, invisible hearts radiating off of her.


    Out of half mortification and half great thanks and appreciation for the blessed view, the pair allowed the innocent mother to carry on, oblivious to the witnesses in the room.


    "Ah got them all! Oh but what''s this?.... Oh. Oh! Oh this isn''t darling''s?"


    Gingerly she set the slightly crinkled papers down but one, holding it to the firelight. The thinness of the parchment paper seeping a warm filter light through it, giving the image a hazy dreamy feeling.


    It was a very strange sort of drawing, if it could be considered that, but it made a very wonderful image. At least it did to Maria, even if she wasn''t the most qualified judge on such matters. Beautiful things were beautiful. She even felt a tear or so welling up at the little thing.


    Blurred charcoal made for a shadowy night time window frame, similar to any of the larger ones overlooking their own home. Spilling from the corner of the frame was more blurred charcoal, making layers to a beautiful lady''s dress. At least, that''s the impression the viewer got, for the face wasn''t even done in properly.


    Shadows and fog, given shape only with a strange line left unbroken. It was amazing in how much was seen in only so few strokes, just one if you followed the line. Minimal.


    One line crisscrossing to make the panes of a swirling iron window. Twisting to make a continuous line art of a practically faceless woman. There were the waves of hair, a small defined chin, lips and even a nose but it stopped there, the line ending without eyes.


    Somehow it all felt so terribly sad, so lonely. The tears in Maria''s own eyes, wide open, falling down her face.


    "Mama?"


    "Maria what''s wrong?! Are you hurt anywhere?"


    Within seconds her darling was at her side on the ground, ready to lift her up and inspect her for any injuries that didn''t exist. At that same moment, Maria couldn''t help feeling for her. Wondering how long the woman in the funny picture was left waiting for.


    She lifted the little paper higher, angled to where her darling''s sitting portrait of her hung.


    It was the same pose.


    "Darling?"


    "Yes Maria?"


    "Can I have this one?"


    Long gentle fingers took her hand in his, lowering them along with the strange paper. With his other hand, he wiped away the streaks and droplets that ran. His smile and heaven light eyes made Maria want to cry harder even though he was right there.


    "Whatever for Maria my love?"


    "For when I miss you. Or papa. For when I miss anyone or anything. I think she and I would get along. I think she would know this feeling I can''t put into words."


    He silenced her with a kiss, soft but sure.


    "You don''t need it my love. Trust me? I''ll do better, I''ll always pick you first, no matter what. So trust me? Trust me again?"


    "Do you promise?"


    "Hmmmm do I?"


    *smack*"Promise darling?"


    "Dear love, I do. I promise."


    So maybe she throws herself onto him so hard his head hits the floor with a thud. It was worth it, pain and giggles and all. To both of them, it was all worth it.


    To such a lovely couple lost in the own world, they don''t notice as a toddling third wheel slowly and subtly make her escape.


    As soon as Rosalia backed away, just far enough to enter the unknown doorway behind the barrels, she took off running into the dark.


    "AAAH Gross gross gross!!!! My eyes! My ears! They''re so stupid and gross!!!!"


    Maybe crying too, maybe.


    ------

 97 Announcement: The New Rose

    ------------------------------------------


    Announcement! Read first!


    -------------------------------------------


    So it has finally hit me how much I have veered off the tracks of what a good novel should be. What I can be proud of in a work. So, as it is, I can no longer keep embarrassing myself by writing the way I have. But somewhere along the way I''ve grown fond of this story and its characters.


    So. I''m rewriting it. All from the beginning.


    Thank you to all you amazing readers who have encouraged and supported my whims till now.


    I''ll do better. It''s nowhere near perfect or ranking material but I have made a rewrite and tied the ending with justice, and afterward I will start on my new perfected story.


    Below is the unedited but truthful version of what Unloved Twin should have been. I have finally seen the real problem and error of my ways after all this time.


    I hope you enjoy this small offering and can forgive me for the messy journey I have taken you all on thus far. Thank you all.


    -----------


    -----


    ---


    -


    There once was a normal devastatingly beautiful loser/top assassin/weeb/superstar/overworked office slave/genius doctor named MC. Yes all of those things, in that very order. You know a very average webnovel character.


    One day as she was walking home alone in the dark, for no good reason, the red strings of fate tugged. Her eyes looked up to an approaching light that her fate was attached to.


    Truck-san arrives!


    Oh it was so beautiful with its heavy metallic size and 18 fat wheels, surely if she was hit by this she would reincarnate with super awesome OP cheats into another world!


    "Truck-sempai, chotto matte! I''m coming for you!"


    Somewhere violin music plays a beautiful requiem, the girl and truck met like lovers in a slow-motion run.


    Duuuuuun duuuun dun dun dun dun dun~


    Wham! Splat! Crunchy crunch squish squish.


    True love is so beautiful.


    Messy but beauties. After the wedding night, which more resembled a praying mantis decapitating its mate to feast on its flesh, the girl woke up in.....ANOTHER WORLD!


    Wow! Who would have thought?


    She knew it was another world because instead of her beautiful gorgeous barbie doll curvacious very normal average novel character body she awoke in a tiny pitiful chibi. A chibi! Loli time!


    Oh she was so sad looking. So skinny and poor. But so very fair, with the skin worthy of being made into an expensive purse!


    Wait! First she must check her pants?


    Yes! No extra parts! Not that it matters bc MC is MC no matter what world or gender but she quite likes having her own boobs and wearing overflowing princess gowns in socially acceptable circumstances.


    Looking around her otherworldly room she was aghast!


    It was a beautiful fancy smancy palace but there was not any fire or even pillow to be had! Yes very expensive but nothing she could actually enjoy. Gold and gems were built into the walls like wtf? Who designed this place? Obviously some peasant who has no idea how rich people actually live.


    She woke up alone with no servants wearing too small rags of what once must have been a perdy dress. But obviously it wasn''t vert perdy anymore, because it was covered in ash!


    Oh is she a pre-glow up CInderella in this world? Awesome sauce, will get hot soon.


    As terrible as her situation was there was a very important plot part skipped over.


    She wasn''t a baby.


    She was like small but not too small. A grade schooler or something. Yes a very good age for a MC to start out with. Being born again as a baby would be TERRIBLE. Very painful and boring, would not recommend. She would have to like grow up or something. Be two or 3 years old? Ew what kinda MC would that make?


    Pitifully she swoons back into her very sad bed because your head must hurt lots when you download your new identity starter pack.


    Starting Download, please wait.


    Ding!


    Download Completed: Have a nice life.


    Le gasp! Her name was Rose Whatchamacallit and she was born a cursed and sad child into the ultimate rich and powerful family in another world! Her mom was hot, her dad was hot, even her grampa was hot! A family of hotties! Very good! She likes this new body''s potential.


    But wait! There''s more!


    Her grampa is also super strong and cool, a superhero! She must cling to thing golden thigh for her future!


    But wait! It doesn''t end there-


    While she was the sad mistreated child, she has twin sister who was the very opposite. The white to her black, though color symbolism like that is just lazy thinking and possibly kinda racist in some subtext. Yes her twin sister was the angel to her devil!


    Why did they even get those names and labels? IDK! Plot! Dramatics!


    Wait there''s more! Call now to get a new frying pan!


    What''s most important is that in order to live a good life she must glow up and pull the rug under the white lotus that is her little sister, Lily! Oh yes what a misleading name. Rose is a very much more generic and opulent name.


    See her memory download pack was a SECOND LIFE kit, thus she remembered everything in Rose Whatchamacallit''s life till she was tragically put to death!


    Young and sweet only 17, oh yeeeeah-you can dance, you can jiiiiiive having the time of your lifffe~


    Ahem, while she was no dancing queen yet, Rose was supposed to be a queen. For she was betrothed to...wait for it....Prince Charming-sama! But who would have thought that he preferred her younger sister Lily?! Oh besides anyone, ever.


    Rose was the baaaaaaad guy in this story. I''m that bad type~Make-your-mama-sad type, Make your-girlfriend-mad type. Might-seduce-your-dad type. I''m the bad guy, duh~


    Ahem, no fear! For Rose will change for life around using her modern lifetime''s memories. She was after all a popular idol, thus all the singing, on top of being a beautiful loser/top assassin/weeb idol/superstar/criminal hacker/genius doctor. Surely she could use some of her humble lowly human skills to help rise to the top! Whatever that meant.


    Sitting down on her sad bed she willed a pillow into existence. Ah yes wonderful, her dimensional space came with her! Bc all MC''s need a dimensional space or some sort of OP cheat.


    The rest, however, she must gain on her own through hard work. Nothing but her own bloood, sweat and tears through dramatic emotional suffering will do!


    Cue montage!: Time skip 1 month


    Rose has gotten some much prettier dresses and much better food even though the servants are all super bad and mean to her.


    No worries, they are but servants and thus background characters easy to tame. Like slimes or beginning monsters.


    Ohoho ho how dare anyone look down on Rose. She will show them all, starting with the servants of this house! They will fear her but love her. They will love her all so much! They will all fear how much they love her!


    Bwahahahahaha *choke* too much bwahahahas.


    She has also started cultivating herself in martial arts and became much stronger and prettier. She had just found the Stardew magic turnip. Once ingested her body will purge all the bad and she be prettier and softer than a newborn Thumbelina. So strong but so sooooft.


    Yay, but her absent parents still don''t really love her bc boo hoo she cursed and stuff. It''s okay they''re probably dumb and have bad taste anyways. Who needs parents or confronting and healing your deep-rooted psychological issues? Pfffft.


    Gotta get super hottie status soon.


    Cue Time skip 2! 1 year.


    Ohohoho she is blooming into a fine young lady. So lovely much beauties. Everyone calls her a genius now bc of course duh. She has shocked everyone bc she is so smart with things like the multiplication table. Bc this is a vaguely dark ages Europe kind of place with plagues and no toilets, very romantic. Her genius is unmatched!


    Her parents are so impressed and beginning to show her attention BUT not as much as Lily! Cursed Lily! Don''t be fooled by the white lotus everyone!


    She''s evvvvviiiiiiil...for no reason! How dare she want attention! That''s Rose''s attention! Gimme gimmie!


    One year is not enough to defeat cursed Lily, she is just too powerful right now! With her perfect floofy hair, angelic smile, and worse....the airhead aura!


    It''s too cute! Too strong! Ahhhhhh! It even gave Rose a nose blood from the flower petals alone. Rose needs to cultivate and train even more!


    Time skip idk how many years but they baby teenagers now!!!


    Rose is too hot now, her cultivation and villainous noblewoman money has made her super hot and awesome. She now runs a mega business corporation and has made countless people bow down to her and she''s barely started puberty!


    They love her so much they cry.


    Even if they''re not on her side, no one can deny Rose''s beauty, power, and face slapping!


    Has someone offended her? Well give her a second to take off her glove for Rose Whatchamacallit is no slap taker. She a slap giver! Slap slap slap!


    How dare she? She dares?


    Did someone unworthy try face slapping her? Well then let one of Rose''s maids face slap that person back! They are not even worthy of being directly face slapped.


    BTW the maid is super awesome a loyal and has cat ears and can you believe she was in the orphan garbage? Man people in the web novel universe sure throw away perfectly good almost OP orphans these days?


    Even her fiance Prince Charming-sama, who totes dumped her in the last life, rude, is madly in love with her. Well duh who isn''t?


    Except for those FOOLS on her white lotus sister''s faction!


    It makes no sense! Rose has worked hard all these years gathering an army of super talented and smart ORPHANS to work under her. Yet there are people still love Lily more?


    A truly dangerous and powerful opponent this sister of hers is. She still has a grip on Prince Charming-sama! Not that Rose really wants him but he''s like a trophy ya know? Not a person, but like a status symbol? Yip yip expensive toy poodle to put in her purse?


    Yet no matter, Rose shall continue....rising to the top!


    She''s already a very popular superstar Assasin doctor idol ohohohoho!


    Cue time skip ???? Idk she''s old enough to have boobs now? Boobs are very important for FLs.


    "Follow me if you want to live." with that Rose dramatically stabs the heart of the great invisible purple hippopotamus with her magical sword. Her hair and make up less face somehow Hollywood perfect. Somewhere a fan blows to make that hair flow, somewhere another ORPHAN side character throws glitter and confetti for AESTHETICS.


    "Ohhhh yessss Rose-sama! Take me!" swoons her potential love interest/harem member #773.


    Prince Charming-Sama squirms in jealousy at the sight!


    "Rose I was wrong! Marry me and be my rightful queen!" he begs, ripping off his shirt to reveal yummy yummy white chocolate bar abs. Why white? Because of a mix of racism induced colorism trained over decades into demographic preferences I guess. Dang has anyone heard of melanin?


    She slaps him.


    First in the abs then the face. Then lets her cool perfect maid slap him, then lets her magical talking animal companion slap him again. They form a line for all 773 potential love interests/harem members to slap him. Someone''s mom comes in to slap him with an uncut kimchi cabbage, How satisfying!


    All slapped out, Prince Charming-sama gets into line to slap himself.


    Time skip ??????


    "I am the big secret smexy." says a hidden boss that Rose has been hate/love flirting with for the last 500 chapters. Chapters you could have read if the time skip function wasn''t there.


    How convenient!


    "You are the big secret smexy yes." Rose agrees, for he is all-powerful and trump all her hottie hot harem members. Even better- unlike the harem this one person out of everyone makes her heart go wham bam doki doki. Must be love. Or heartburn. But she will NEEEEVER admit that.


    She pauses the scene with her powers to sing a musical number about that. 3 minutes and 48 seconds later she restarts the scene, posing in the most dramatically sexy way possible despite being like what 16? Not creepy at all.


    Big dark smexy talks so good. Voice better than Morgan Freeman and that''s saying something.


    "I am not only sexy but OP. Even more OP then you. I shall now angrily tease you to show my affections in a classy subtle way." he croons.


    Oh hot damn- how will Rose respond to that? It''s too doki doki for her. No man has ever made her feel this way?


    "I counter your heart racing stalker teasing with extreme false anger and secretly hiding my obvious romantic feelings for you. ''Not that I care baka''! "


    "Hmmmmm I play the overbearing CEO card to shatter your defenses and whoo you into submission. With the power of money, sexy, and vaguely fantasy S&M dominance play combined- for the combination bonus of over 9000."


    "You fool, you beautiful sexy male lead worthy fool. You have played into my trap. On my deck there was a....golden protagonist halo card! It costs 15% of your heart points and raises my audience''s popularity purity! But wait! With that, I can choose 3 cards to raise from the graveyard and restore my defense at 70% at the end of each turn."


    "A tactical move- very well then Rose. I play....getting us lost in a snow storm but there''s a romantic cabin where we need to cuddle naked for warmth."


    "Le-gasp, a cheap and unoriginal move! "


    "But irresistible. Your mental restraint points are not high enough to resist the big sexy. For extra assurance, I combine it with Alpha/Omega universe dynamics and place a timely ''heat'' card against you. If I wasn''t already irresistible this will make you submit. I win this round."


    Rose throws the table and the card game on it in frustration. How dare this hidden boss match her, let alone defeat her. And how dare he be so smexy hot!?! Well, she won''t say she''s in love!


    She''ll even make another not technically Copywrite in this world song and dance out of it. Another one! That was going to be her next musical single in a world without electricity and digital devices.


    White lotus Lily swoons and chews her handkerchief at the big smexy, daring to covet what she cannot have. For Lily is a hoe.


    Sure Rose is technically one too for leading on her harem but it''s not real if he''s not the ML right? MC Halo!!! Bad standards!!!


    Time SKip %$%#$#%


    "Darling big smexy, you must overcome the 35th case of amnesia to love me!" Rose sobs, looking perfectly beautiful and tragic while holding a beautiful bleeding big smexy. All heartstrings go to Rose, cue the tears.


    "I don''t know you but I know I love you." declares big smexy with lips more perfect any word the dictionary can contain.


    "Oh one perfect sensitive caring female power fantasy male lead, you can''t love me! For it''s been 3900 chapters and you have forgotten me! Again!"


    "A ladder could fall on me I would never forget you!"


    "That''s what you said the 17th time you lost your memory. Oh but it''s all my fault! I am wrecked with guilt, prettily of course, bc you did it to protect me!"


    "I am still OP."


    "Your constant amnesia is proof you are my OP."


    *cues kiss scene written by someone who doesn''t know basic anatomy- noses don''t exist and it feels like rose colored fireworks and no one ate garlic for lunch*


    "You don''t even remember my name!" sobs Rose, suddenly they are on a cliff at sunset with dramatic flowing hair and clothes.


    "Do you even know mine?" he looks at her sexily bleeding.


    "No!" Rose cries.


    "Because you have amnesia too my love."


    "No!"


    Well that would explain why she kept calling him big smexy- to be fair he was very peerlessly beautifully and overwhelmingly sexy. Even more handsome than all the harem members combined and the author spent at least 3 pages describing the impossible hotness of each guy so this is alot. Like a lot a lot- cute 300 page description on the hotness of big smexy.


    "And covid-19" he smirked smexily at the terrible revelation because that''s just what MLs do.


    Rose won''t take her cruel fate sitting down, even though her life has been pretty perfect for the last 3900 chapters.


    "I shall steal the heavens! I''m a doctor AND a cultivator AND immortal AND part dragon god! I can save myself!"


    "So am I, a doctor and more. In this and 6,557 alternate universes."


    "Oh Big Smexy! Take me on this cliff rn!"


    "I already did, in 589 alternative universes. At least 9000 times of papapappa on this very inconvient sezy cliff~Let''s make this the 590th universe?"


    *You''re so stupid baka" Rose was already taking her clothes off, crying in a love induced stupidy.


    To the side, the ORPHANS play an orchestra for mood music.


    Time skip Oh why the fuck bother


    Rose is dangling, she fought a truly tough dragged out DBZ level battle and it has finally come to this. Darth Vader slowly approaches very ominously.


    "Rose." it breathes


    "Don''t say it" Rose cries.


    "Rose- I "


    "Don''t you dare say that misquoted line!"


    Darth Vader takes off its mask to reveal a horror beyond anything Rose has ever known in any world.


    "Rose, I am your mother!"


    "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"


    sCREW dangling for her life, Rose just gonna chop off her own hand to drop. It will grow back by next Tuesday.


    Nope. Not dealing with mama. Nope nope nope.


    Time Skip 8 bc we broke time and reality


    "And do you Rose Whatchamacallit, take this big smexy hidden OP boss with one look from one eye can make everyone''s panties flash flood alert wet, including mine and I''m a straight white male pastor, do you?


    " It''s can''t be helped, it''s not like I want to marry you baka!"


    The crowd of orphans awwwww, that was the most beautiful declaration of love they ever heard.


    "And do you Ja-"


    *cue dramatic door slamming*


    Bridal edition Rose was aghast for there stood....her evil for no reason twin sister!!!Who would have thought?


    Also she was really so damn close to finally figuring out Big Smexy name. They made lots of love and been through ups and downs for 8888 chapters but she did not actually know his name??? It happens sometimes and then it gets awkward to ask ok?


    "You can''t marry her! That''s my evil twin!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "No that''s the evil twin!"


    "No you twin btich!"


    "You wanna go sis?!"


    Bitch was still alive after the the last few thousand chapters? Daaaaang a true EVIL FOR NO REASON twin alright. And NOOOOOOO one could tell them apart?


    IDK yo if the bae can''t tell you from your twin sister maybe he don''t deserve to be bae. But where''s the fun in that?


    The wedding crowed parts into a boxing stage. In the center, the identical evil and good twins meet for....the ultimate match of Rock Sock EM Robots! It was made out of the bones of Prince Charming-sama, how fitting.


    Still no one asked to groom how he felt? Or you know just asked him, he is ML bae after all.


    "Who are all you people?"


    Oh noes big smexy got amnesia again from saving everyone from a falling planet in another dimension, thus saving the universe. Oh well, it''s the ML''s job in a WN to save the day again. I mean who else is gonna do it? The FL? Pffffy she''s busy face slapping and looking pretty. You can''t ask for too much from female main characters lol. That''s the fantasy male love interest''s job to be real OP.


    Time skip -3700&%x59


    The wind blew, flower petals scattering in the air everywhere. It was an environmental disaster but sooooooo pretty. Big Smexy, finally cured of amnesia, again, declares his undying love under the 8 moon eclipse. Very romantic. For some reason, his shirt is ripped open at the front, wet, sheer and clinging because this is Rose''s perfect story moment ok????


    "You don''t remember Rose but I have always loved you since we first met. My world was so dark and you were so bright." he dripped and sparkles and Rose had to play tsundere to not lick him right there and then.


    By the way she was wearing a designer brand black sexy dress from the most beautiful designers ever and this dress cost more money than a google search can provide. It clung to her va-va-voom curves, but not too much, like the public clings to news scares and toilet paper panic buying. Aka very clingy, very sexy- *cure 3 page description of her dress alone*


    "Baka what are you talking about? First met? Le- gasp! WE WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WEREN''T WE?" Rose finally recalls after we finish talking about how hot she is.


    From off screen dramatic violin music plays, it is from the orphan orchestra.


    "Ya totally Rosa-chan. In this and like 9999 other alternative universes."


    "OH BIG SMEXY-KUN TAKE ME NOW AND AGAIN AND SOLVE EVERYTHING WITH LOVE COMES FULL CIRCLE/SOLVES ALL TROPES!!!"


    *cue the ORPHAN orchestra FULL BLAST *


    For god''s sake someone turn off the Time skip function!


    "I...am Rose Whatchamacall it, and I am too old and wrinkly to be sexy MC anymore. I shall retire to reincarnate and find my dead Big Smexy ML, oh darn I forget his name J- something, again. To the next life!


    This is my 44th granddaughter. Boruto Brosalia, she will be taking my place until this dead horse stops spitting out money."


    "I''m just as good! BELIEVE IT!" screams bastard mini Rose knockoff.


    "Da-da-dats all folks," pops out the magical immortal animal companion.


    *cues ORPHAN orchestra ending OST*

 6 They dont see me rollin

    I have a roommate now!


    There are two reasons for Lilyanne moving into the nursery with me.


    One is that it''s the custom here for noble children. Since her feeding issues have been resolved, there''s no reason to stay elsewhere. Mother has been relieved and can now take a good rest. Besides staying there would do nothing for my sister''s hunger, which is comparable to my own.


    The wet nurses are surprised but ecstatic at her matching gluttony.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    The second reason being that when it was time for me to return to my room the maids couldn''t get Lilyanne separated from me. Not without her busting out into pathetic tears at least. How touching though annoying.


    Once again our mother was more than a little depressed over that.


    "Oh, she wants Rosalia more than me..."


    "Don''t be silly Lady Maria, the twins should stay together. They''re both your children. no need to be down. Now you can get a good rest yourself with peace of mind."


    And no crying babies in the room. If you can afford it, use the help mother. Do you know how many working mothers would kill to be in your position?


    And so the nursery was reset up for two. There the almost matching bassinets were set up a foot apart from one another. One in neat white with pink details while the other one oppositely colored one was my own, overflowing in pillows and blankets.


    Time passes peacefully. I admit I sleep a little less since Lilyanne moved in. She''s a typical baby after all, bent on making noise and getting attention. Always trying to get me or a maid to come play with her. She makes a very good sounding board to talk off though, always reacting so positively.


    Mother visits when she has time but she''s weak and still recuperating. There are also social matters to attend to. Since Lilyanne moved in I see Father more often, he tries to come at least once every other day. Realistically he can only visit us early in the mornings or late at night since he''s off at "court". A typical working man.


    It''s a little sad how he only started to visit the nursery after Lilyanne came. I''m here to you know? The favoritism is showing strong early on.


    More importantly, we''ve only been visited once by that crazy person, Grampa. He came with mother, all bright smiles and looking absolutely harmless. Took turns cradling us at the time, squealing about our cuteness in a voice no grown man should have. I can read nothing from him like this.


    This sucks, no clues to gather and I get treated like a damn teddy bear.


    "So cute so cute so cute! Yes, my granddaughters are the cutest things in the world!"


    "Oh my papa, they''ll get dizzy"


    "Oh they love it don''t they, upsie daisy!"


    Realistically I know this man will not drop us, but who spins and flings little babies like this!? Be more careful you crazy old coot!


    Lilyanne is giggling and enjoying herself though, typical. The sound of her laughter spurs grampa on and he doesn''t stop with the baby tossing, it''s honestly kinda fun I can''t deny. Better than getting bear cuddled to death in his muscles.


    Only when the laughing caps off and Lilyanne and I are both seeing nothing but swirls does he set us back down like limp sacks of flour. Dizzy dizzy flour.


    I can still make out mother and grampa making pleasant conversion over tea. Isn''t that nice, I''d love to be a part of it eavesdropping if I wasn''t so damn dizzy.


    "whe heha bla he"


    And somehow Lilyanne is still enjoying herself, truly an innocent baby.


    That was the only time I saw grandpa so far. Not very useful at all but I suppose I have time. With family relations, he''ll show up again eventually. I feel that only he would be able to answer the growing questions I have.


    Right now I have nothing but time. It''s just sleeping, eating and playing around like a baby. Sometimes with mother and the maids but mostly it''s with Lilyanne.


    She''s a, uh, very ditzy drooly baby. To be honest it''s not too different from her future adult self, a little comforting to see how some things don''t change. I don''t expect any backstabbing from her, aside from the whole falling for my fiance thing. But that''s more of a punishment for her than me.


    Seriously what terrible tastes, of all the guys out there she fell for that?


    And I''m not thinking about it la la la not thinking about it!


    That is really my plan, not thinking. This is a problem for future me when I''m less of a sleepy useless baby and more in immediate danger of my terrible fate. I do have some guidelines I suppose, they go something like:


    1. Let''s take care of Lilyanne! Because fuck there are very few things I legitimately care for and she may be one of them. She just needs....a lot , a hell lot of help.


    2. Investigate "grampa", I''ll get you eventually.


    3. Not dying. Just try not to die. Avoid all red flags.


    The rest is essentially doing whatever I want. Which includes raising hell for the fun of it. What is the point of being born into a wealthy household if I can''t just do what I want?


    And today I want to get out of here. Lazing around is fun and all, I''d love to laze around and nap all my life really. Babies really do have it the best.


    But I am not really a baby and my mind wants something more stimulating. You can only stay in the same room with the same faces for so long without getting bored out of your mind. The maids take care of us and cuddle with us but that''s about it. I haven''t even heard a bedtime story.


    There''s a secret technique that I''ve been practicing. What the maids don''t know is that while they''ve been gossiping or playing with Lilyanne I''ve been mastering rolling over.


    What''s so special about rolling over, all babies can do so eventually.


    You''re right, there''s nothing to learning how to roll over early. I''m just too bored with myself at this point.


    The maids aren''t expecting me yet, in fact, they''ve been increasingly distracted with Lilyanne. And I''ve been such a good child so far, so peaceful with all my naps. No one has to worry about me.


    The me of the past was so neglected, while it''s not as bad yet as a baby I can only prepare for my own independence. Might as well take advantage of the lack of attention, let''s go.


    On a sunny afternoon, only one maid was on duty. She had just finished changing my nappy when Lilyanne distracted her to rush over. This was my chance.


    Free from my bassinet and without supervision I take off, rolling myself towards the door. The potential dizziness is nothing compared to what that crazy grampa put me through.


    I successfully rolled out the door and into the hall. Keeping myself close to the wall for stability I roll leisurely, giddy on my progress. The nursery is a peaceful wing so no servants are there to witness or stop me.


    I manage to get past two doorways when I hear maid''s first scream. That is my cue to speed up and find somewhere to hide, they won''t find me that easily.


    After rolling into the next room I take my time finding the most nap worthy spot to settle down, might as well get comfy.


    "How did you lose a baby?!"


    "I don''t know, she was just here!"


    "And no one came by?"


    "No one I swear."


    "No one else passed through the hall either."


    "Then search every corner, she couldn''t have gotten far!"


    "The Lord will have our heads for this."


    "Oh god where could she be?"


    The increasing sounds of panicking searching servants is the most fun I''ve had since I''ve been born. Even the head butler is joining in! Not bad of a ruckus for a baby.


    It took too long to find me since I did end up falling asleep. They only found me sometime late as the sun set, my lumpy silhouette showing behind the curtain.


    "How in the world did she get this far?!"


    I can''t wait to see how far I''ll go next time!


    ---

 39 Dont do i

    Good news, I snuck out of camp.


    Bad news, I couldn''t do it alone. To be more accurate I didn''t exactly sneak out as much as I deceived the adults. I say adults but this batch of raid troops consists mostly of college aged young people. They look and behave as such too, especially when excitedly passing around soda pops and the contents of their own flasks.


    Something tells me it''s not water in there.


    Can''t blame them, I was the same at that age. Besides they''re adventurers, fighters and scientists on an excursion, not parents or nannies.


    Now that I think about it my own parents are around that age too, huh. That''s explains some things.


    It''s not uncommon behavior among non nobles but the troops are more similar to modern people, careers first, settling down and making families later.


    The oldest besides grampa may be a little over 30 and they''re busy watching over these crazies. Like some poor TA or tired college dorm heads. To them a little kid like me is considered very calm well behaved in comparison.


    They''re all smart and strong folks, don''t get me wrong. If I tried to physically break out there''s no hope.


    But it I say with big wet puppy eyes that I want to go play with ''my two big brothers'' well then, there we go. Much more effective.


    "Well if those two are watching over you..."


    "Wait I don''t want to be on babysitting duty- ack"


    I''d feel insulted but this is Lukas here and I''ve come to figure out he''s just like that. It will be fine with a quick kick and if I just wave another soda in front of him. Honestly it''s very typical behavior for a 5 year old boy.


    Amar however has an even stupider looking face on. It''s all big sparkly eyed and open mouth in shock.


    "Waaah you never called us big brother before!"


    "....really now. You just must not have heard."


    "It''s always just the others, hey hey Rosalia say it again."


    "..."


    Well this is awkward but if it gets him to shut up and play along till we get out of here then I''ll do it. Big brother shits, you all should be calling me big sister.


    But it works, and we''re allowed to ''go play'' in the surrounding woods. I''m just reminded to keep away from the area of the Gable''s home for now. They really enunciated on that.


    It''s not like they can even see where the gate is anyways.


    But hey I''ll just go around the back or the sides, that should throw them off. The only thing is that I have to take these two children with me as a cover.


    Talk about babysitting duties.


    "Hey can you call me big brother again?"


    "...."


    To shut them both up I give them each another soda. Is 3 a day too much for children? Who knows, it''s not like this is real soda with any added sugars. I wonder if there are any stack up effects on them, since they are technically internal health potions.


    "So where were are we heading?" asked the darker boy, genuinely curious.


    If not for personal experience, he seems like the easy to bully type. Or the too nice type. He handed over half his latest soda to his friend, who gulped his share down too fast.


    "Thanks *burp*, but does it even matter? Wait why are we letting the baby lead?"


    "Because she gave us sweets? Also you have someplace in mind, right Rosalia?"


    "Oh yeah, wait where are we going~?"


    It''s framed as a question but the psychology of mischievous children is the same. Lukas already has a shit eating grin on his face and I''m sure Amar has long ago figured it out. How convenient it is to not have to explain.


    I wonder if this makes them smart or trouble making kids?


    "When adults say to do something, what should we do?" I bait and lure. There''s no need to play tricks when we''re on the same wavelength here. The boys snicker and answer correctly.


    "The opposite."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "That''s right!"


    Unlocking the latch is easy work with my hooked staff. How much security do you need when no one can see your place? Amazing work, as expected of Sir Gable. I''ve lead them up the along the gate for quite a while and they''ve noticed nothing at all.


    That very illusion starts dispelling with the movement and I can tell when it''s all the way gone from the way their eyes widen and take in the sight. It''s nothing fancy, just a simple twisted wood that looks far past it''s prime. But it must be magical, that''s the impression the gate leaves alone even without the sudden appearance from invisibility,


    Even I think so, I can see the gate.


    "Whoa cool!" exclaimed Lukas.


    "So this is Mage Gable''s hide out?"


    We haven''t even crossed yet and the boys are in awe. They''ll be disappointed if they''re expecting g anything flashy out in the garden. All the good stuff is underground.


    "Stop staring and come on."


    I need to close the gate after us after all. I''m not sure how the illusion magic works but certainly I need to close the door after myself at least. I think it will go back up after I lock the latch and true, the lines of the gate blur into a transparent fog right after.


    See Gable must be expecting me if he left the gate partly visible.


    By the time i slide my staff back in the bag the boys were already wandering through the garden cautiously. I thought they''re would be running around, especially Lukas but they''re not normal careless civilians. They explored and poked at things but carefully, the way one would checking for booby traps.


    Definitely experienced in dungeon raids.


    "Does he live out here or is there an inside?"


    "Yeah I was expecting more of poof and a whoosh and a bling bing bam!"


    "....I''m sorry a what now?"


    "Boom boom pow, you know, aren''t mages supposed to be all sparkly and fancy and stuff. With their books, beards and uptightness? Right Amar?"


    "I don''t know, we haven''t met that many mages. Besides lots of people wave swords and they''re not all the same."


    "I don''t...think Gable is like that, he doesn''t have a beard at least. He has lots of books and is kind a neat freak though."


    Somehow I understood all that. Maybe my brain is more childish than I thought. Oh well it''s good to keep a youthful spirit, I don''t really want to be an old lady just yet.


    Personally I think Gable is more of a sparkle sparkle sound effect like shoujo bubbles accompanied by a refreshing breeze.


    "Hmm I guess, Rosalia you would know right? You''re a baby and all but you probably meets lots of people with your grampa. "


    "Yes but I only really know and talk to Gable, even then I''ve only just met him."


    I reply, even in the last life memories it''s not like I met many of them myself. I even further avoided them if they were affiliated with the church in any way and vice versa.


    "Ah I guess mages are just a mystery then."


    "Comes with the job description I suppose, sorcery and mages with their secret worlds."


    "Wait they have a secret world?"


    To be honest I''m not sure what the distinction between a mage and any other magic use is. A magic user is rare but mages are even rarer? I don''t know how this works I''m just a normal person. But oh boy would these kids enjoy the tale of Harry Potter. They''re a little older than Lilyanne, maybe I''ll get to fangirl and tell that particular series.


    I lead them up to the hidden hobbit doorway, looking as cute as ever. With twist and a push the door creaks open and we enter.


    "Whoa." exclaimed Lucas, quieter than I''ve ever seen him, while Amar spins around appreciating the sights and objects of mystery. I remember my own starstruck first reaction to the witch''s cottage part of the hobbit house, how strange and mystical everything looked. How so obviously magical.


    Wizarding world of Harry Potter, eat your hearts out.


    Cautious and well trained as always the boys look back to be to confirm for any traps up ahead. As long as they don''t meddle into the research stuff it should be fine, even I don''t know what''s explosive or not in here.


    Besides the really fun dangerous stuff is deeper underground, so I was warned.


    For now though we should just locate gramps and Gable.


    Yuna isn''t exactly dying but he was bit by a strange unidentifiable creature and is running a drunk fever. Isn''t that sort of thing detrimental to a developing teen''s brain? I don''t know why but I kind of like the pissy kid, reminds me of grumpy cat. Even if I didn''t don''t want him to just straight up die in front of me.


    "Gable, grampa I''m back!"


    Huh funny, no responses. They must be here, I saw their shoes at the doorway. They must be downstairs if they can''t hear me.


    "Follow me guys." I instruct, don''t want them touching anything they''re not supposed to. We take a not so quick trip to the stairs since there ere just too many distracting things to gape and stare at. I play a good host and answer questions where I can but it''s not like I even know half this stuff is!


    It is really cool looking though, it seems this house always has stuff I''ve never seen before, no matter how many times I look.


    For safety reasons we don''t touch anything. Normal children don''t have such good impulse control but no one here is a ''normal'' child, me especially. As curious as Amar is or unwilling as Lukas seems to be, they both have strict control and know what lines can and can''t be crossed.


    I''m not surprised at their discipline, you could easily die by touching the wrong things in a dungeon.


    The stair case with its glowing stones in contrast with the darkness brought forth some more ooohs and aaaahs. It''s not even my own property but I can''t help but shamelessly feel a little proud at showing it off. Gable''s taste and design skill sure is amazing.


    Speaking of which, were are they? I call down the empty hall and am left unanswered again.


    I hope they''re not in one of the further underground rooms, those are off limits to me. But I mean, this is an emergency here, kind of.


    "Let''s keep looking then."


    "Are you sure we''re allowed to come down here?"


    "Sush don''t be a kill joy Amar."


    "Of course, it''s all perfectly fine."


    AH I must have let a suspicious smile onto my face. I''m not normally so giddy and Amar must have caught up on to that. Still it''s 2 against 1 here, a little exploration never hurt anyone. I''m just not allowed in the locked rooms but I was never technically told not to go down the hall. Or to the other stair case.


    "Hmmm sure if you say so."


    Cautious I see, but he needs no further convincing and comes along easily. It''s fine, as long as we don''t go in a locked door and get eaten by some carnivorous plants or cursed all our lives we''ll be fine.


    The boys do sense something is up with my little white lie though as we''ve switched positions. Them both taking the initiative to step in front flanking while I stay a step behind. How gentlemanly, unnecessary but very appreciated.


    We easily pass the kitchen and bed rooms spaces, going further down the hall. There are no voices, no creaks, nothing that sounds like anyone''s home at all.


    That can only lead to the second set of stairs.


    Underground.


    ------

 44 Were home? Already?

    It is something AM in the morning. I don''t even know what time it is but it''s a ridiculous hour to be awake.


    Apparently it''s an emergency. Enough for grampa to be dragging me home ASAP at this unholy hour but not enough to truly panic nor force me awake. This little of body of mine needs alot of sleep, just as much as any growing toddler.


    I find myself zoneing in and out, mostly asleep as I get lugged around since I was carried out of bed. Bed being the nest I''ve since gathered and grown from the initial sleeping quarters Gable set up for me.


    By the way said room has since been invaded as of the other night. Oviously my sleeping space is the best, full of pillows and blankets. Gable didn''t even have time to set up sleeping cots for those two kids before they saw my nest and jumped in. Of course I wouldn''t give it up that easily. Somehow it ended up in a sleepover arrangement.


    That''s not really an issue with me. Not only am I modern person with sensibilities from another century, I''m just a small child. Sharing a room is no big deal either way. Isn''t it only nobles with too much free time that get their panties in a bunch over this kind of stuff?


    At the time Gable gave me a gesture that seem to say, ''Good Enough'' , before retiring for the night. Though we both know he actually went out to see grampa and the rest of the troops. Maybe go check up on Yuna, I never did find out what kind of effect that butterfly bite was. Hope the kid''s okay. .


    I can hear Lukas occasionally snoring, he''s even harder to wake up then myself. Ah then the little hand leading me around must be Amar. What a reliable kid despite being sleepy too. Do we really have to move? Can''t Gable just float us around?


    "Sorry little ones, you can all go back to sleep in a bit. Grab everything you need and meet in the kitchen."


    I''ll take that as a no on the floating thing. On the way out he personally slaps Lukas further awake, gently of course. Definitely Amar doing to dragging then. he somehow shuffles the both of us to the washroom to freshen up.


    I''m going to miss magic pluming.


    The boys weren''t carrying much stuff originally. Just the clothes on their backs and a small enchanted nap sack. In fact they''re leaving with a whole new set of casual clothes.


    Gable was disgusted over the fact that neither boy has pajamas or something else to wear besides their outdoor gear and armor. I''m not sure how but he got even faster at clothes making.


    It may also be my fault for getting him hooked modern crochet patterns and such. But hey, a wool sweaters for everyone is not the worse thing that could happen. Great time to play around with up cycling scraps. Yesterday Gable was having another, though not very visible, panic over Lukas.


    "I have to get a whole wardrobe for him...he''s not gonna survive winter in those shoes.....does he even have another pair of socks...."


    All that and more were muttered during our crafting time yesterday. While there''s plenty more things to be done in prepping the troops for the trip back, without enough of his introverted homebody time Gable would get very very irritated.


    Let''s avoid that disaster.


    Besides, crafting is very stress relieving and Gable seems to need as much of that as he can get. At least it was a very productive time. The boys were extremely happy to receive the sweaters and soft pajama bottoms. And yes, they got crochet socks too.


    At first they were confused, as if the concept of gifts were an alien thing. Once they figured it out though they lit up like Christmas trees.


    To be fair it''s not as if they''re mistreated in the camps. It''s just not very child oriented. Amar has too many hand me down knives and Lukas does have spare socks, he just either loses or ruins them easily. They don''t own very many comfort items, luxurious like pjs made for them are entirely a new experience.


    What sob stories.


    You wouldn''t be able to tell looking at the shuffling sleepy messes they are now. Even with new clothes, no one is carrying much, especially me with my space cheating bag. So we each grab a


    pillow and drag along a blanket or two...or three. Upon arrival to the kitchen we promptly fall back asleep at the table.


    I suppose I could wake up if needed but I don''t need to right? Just a few more minutes.


    Gable appears out of nowhere again, this time with pot of porridge and prods us to eat. By ''he'' I mean the floating bowls and spoons, self scooping fruit and something sweet into our portions. I still don''t know what time it is but the sweet smell rouses me enough to sleepily munch.


    One bowl is enough for me but the bowls says otherwise, seemingly refiling itself.


    "I''m full"


    I mumble, pushing away the bowl to Amar, who finishes it easily with barely a blink. Which isn''t actually that fast seeing how his eyes aren''t even open. Lukas on the other hand looks to be face first drowning in his own bowl. Is he sleep eating? It''s too early for this.


    "Wakey wakey! Are we all up and ready!?"


    Hearing no responses besides our sleepy groans, grampa scoops us all up , blankets and all and runs up the stairs. The little bits of skylight show no light at all, not even twilight.


    It''s way to early for this.


    "Set them in the circle lines, it will be done in a bit." I can hear Gable saying.


    Before I notice it I''m on the ground again, gentler than the previous times grampa straight out just dropped me. Well it doesn''t matter because if no one needs me I''ll be snuggling back to sleep, surrounded by blankets and warmth.


    ------


    "My Lord! The Lord Commander has returned!"


    "Father you''re back , thank heavens. Where is Rosalia? And sir Gable? Pardon, my rudeness, welcome to our humble home."


    Huh? When did I get back to the mansion? Is this a dream?


    The dream servants are all rushing up to stand in procession in front of grampa and Gable. Dream father is gliding down the stairs, looking very regal and very tired all at once.


    Where am I in this dream? On the floor in a blanket pile right? Yes this is much more comfortable spot to be, even though Lukas does snore a bit. It''s very soft and warm, I''m just going, *yawn* sleep a little bit more.


    "But father, where is my daughter? I thought for sure she was with you....what is that?"


    Halfway into dreamland again my outer blanket was cruelly ripped from me, exposing to me to lamp lights and the harsh waking world. This disruption does not bother Lukas at all, the boy dead to the world snoring but Amar being directly underneath me in the blanket pile jolts half awake.


    In the next moment I''m lifted into the air, but the familiar clean scent of bergamot and gunpowder surrounds me and I relax.


    "Father, what have you done to my child?"


    "Eh? I didn''t do anything."


    Making myself comfortable again, I can feel fathers long fingers inspecting my cropped hair, ghosting over any scrapes and bruises that haven''t healed fast enough.


    It''s fine, kids get roughed up all the time. Don''t worry so much, this is normal you know. Also stop poking that bruise on my shoulder, it''s still fresh from some stray elbows.


    "How is she right now?" asks Gable.


    Father let''s out a sigh, readjusting me in his arms. It doesn''t sound very good.


    "It''s not life threatening they say but it''s getting pretty bad to be honest. The fever just won''t subside and it''s been going on for so long. Thank goodness you''re here. Come, Maria is with her right now."


    That definitely doesn''t sound good. My thoughts can only go to one thing.


    Is it Lilyanne again?


    She must have gotten sick again. I have been actively trying to ensure she''s a healthier child than she was last time around but I''m no miracle worker. Her childhood illnesses is what it is with her weaker constitution. I''m honestly surprised she hasn''t gotten any serious fevers or such thus far.


    She must have taken a turn for the worst if we''re suddenly here. I assume Grampa finally got his mail had Gable magic us here. Can he do that? I have no idea but I don''t doubt it. In the past grampa has strange means of getting form place to place.


    Wait why did Gable come with us? He never came to see Lilyanne before last time around.


    "Down the hall and through here, they''re in Maria''s room. "


    "Ronald, hold the boys, keep the kids out here while I examine her. I repeat keep all the kids out here."


    "Mmm I know, I trust you ."


    "No guarantees."


    "Nothing ever is but for you, I''ll take my chances."


    "You''re a terrible gambler."


    Why does it feel like these two are flirting? Grampa I get but Gable? They''re giving me idiotic couple feels...It really is too early for this.


    "So then , where do you disappear off with my daughter for all these week hmm?"


    "I''m going to get these boys settled! Off I go now!"


    How very smooth of you grampa. I sleepily wave them off as he makes his escape. See you later guys.


    Then it''s just father and I in the hall. He looks down at me warily, expression crossed between relieved and uncomfortable. His hold isn''t painful or anything but his stare is.


    "Good morning?"


    "You''re far too young to be gallivanting with boys."


    "...I''m what?"


    "Far too young. Not till your debut at the very least and even them you''re too young. Rosalia do you understand?"


    "Huh?"


    Is father accusing little ol me of seduction already?! I''m two! What is this?


    "I''d ask about your time out but you look to be in fine health, snuggling with strange boys. Which one of them was it? Or did they both cut your hair, damn brats. Rosalia I''m telling you this now that if a boy pulls your pigtails it''s because all males are terrible beasts with impure intentions and you should keep far far away."


    "Father I really don''t think this is necessary. And I like my hair, though it was an accident"


    "Don''t ever trust when a boy says it was an accident. Remember besides your grandfather and I, you are not to trust any nasty boys."


    I''m getting the shovel talk already? I''m two! To which I have to repeat out loud.


    "I''m two!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    He gives me a look that says it doesn''t matter and I''m dumbstruck. I really don''t know how to make it more obvious that this isn''t an issue. Besides friendships and relations between genders aren''t necessarily inappropriate. Isn''t father just being absolutely sexist and ridiculous right now?


    "I''m engaged to a boy you know? The one you set up. "


    "One that is no threat, thanks to the Goddess. No, I shall not have you frolicking with beaus till you''re well into adulthood, even then there will be no ''frolicking'' nonsense. Understand?"


    "But-"


    "I really didn''t think this would be an issue yet, they really do grow up so fast."


    "It''s nothing like that! Besides I''m engaged, worry about Lillyanne!"


    Father''s handsome face seems to be going through a stroke as he considers the very feasible idea. Really I''m not an issue at all, Lilyanne''s the one with the insane amount of admirers and suitors in the future. We''ll be having the entire household staff beat them off with brooms.


    I personally vote that we replace the brooms with swords for better effectiveness. Or at least enchant to brooms for more attacking power. Perhaps some of those semi-automatic crossbows? I''m sure grandpa could spare some to help preserve his precious granddaughter''s peace and honor.


    "About Lilyanne, Rosalia your sister ..has always been weaker. So it''s been..."


    "Don''t worry father, I know she''s sick again. Lilyanne will be fine."


    She always is, despite all the scares in the last life she always made it. Weak but she survived. The dark circles under his eyes and the haggardness that dampens his usual granduer must be from caring for Lilyanne and mother. In the past if Lilyanne got sick then so would mother, more from over worrying than anything. That would then in turn affect father and then the whole household would be in hysterics.


    How troublesome, I recall the times where the staff even forgot to feed me during those spells. Just because one twin is sick doesn''t mean you should starve the other to that point.


    Well that shouldn''t be an issue in this life, I wonder if George''s acne improved. Did the kitchens figure out the crab recipes without me to boss them around? Did they test the soap yet, did those even make it back safely? What about our research status on pizza dough and finding the right yeast? I have so much to do and so much to show everyone!


    The door creaks open and Gable leads a wobbly mother by the hand. She looks absolutely awful, even worse than the week after giving birth, She''s lost so much weight even her bountiful bosom looks underwhelming! This is not the blushing Maria Ventrella, a beauty and socialite in her prime.


    "Rosalia, is that you?"


    I should be asking you that mother!


    "I found her barefoot and ill alone in the woods, she must have been out there for days. You''ve raised such a strong little survivor Maria."


    "Rosa?"


    Mother all but leans on father for support, touching me all over. Her eyes and hands inspecting me in a manner much more frantic than father''s earlier check up. She grips my hair so hard, too close to the scalp, that it actually hurts quite a lot.


    "What did you say?"


    Father''s hold on me tightens even as he supports mother with one arm.


    "Oh Gable I ddn''t know. . Rosa honey, mama and papa are so so sorry. WE should have watched over you better, shouldn''t have let papa take you off just like that."


    Huh, when did this get to me? Shouldn''t we be focused on still sick Lilyanne here? Where did this all come from? I look over to Gable with confusion, what is he playing at here?


    "You two are still so young, but you''re parents now. Your child''s first line of support and defense is you. Maria you know best how your papa gets, how much he forgets. Rosalia is not Ronald, she doesn''t have his constitution nor his gifts, she doesn''t even have yours. Don''t put her through that unreasonable pressure. "


    Mother doesn''t even bother hiding her sobs, emotional as ever. It''s just...never been directed towards me? I don''t know what to make of the situation.


    "You''re doing so well Buttercup, you''re leaning."


    "Thank you Gable, my dear kind Gable you''re always too good to me."


    "Maybe I have spoiled you a tad too much when you were growing up." Gable teased, no bite to his words at all.


    "Thank you, thank you for watching over my Rosa."


    He wipes away the tears on her red face with a familiarity that must go very far. It''s too tender of a scene, what a dangerously good looking man. Father you need to be more careful, you won''t be able to win against such a rival! I mean Gable would never but I am just stating the obvious here.


    Instead father doesn''t mind it at all and thanks Gable graciously for ''saving'' me. Sounds a little too dramatic, it was just a few days sleeping in trees and a cold. I''m very glad Gable found me when he did but I probably would have still gotten by.


    "I really am fine though, we should get back to Lilyanne."


    Gable gives me the usual pat on the head and that mysterious smile as always. Ah , he really means it when he wants me to ''try'' to ''face'' my family. I don''t get what that entrails though. Oh well, we''ll just have to see day by day.


    "For Lilyanne...I think i may have figured out the source of her fever."


    "Dear Gable! Are you serious?"


    "Is that really true? Is there a cure for her?"


    Oh thank god, it feels really too uncomfortable having so much of the attention on me. This is more back to normal. Gable really is amazing though to have diagnosed Lilyanne''s mysterious illness. He''s not even a doctor, well not in the traditional sense, he''s much better.


    "I have to say that no, there''s no cure for what she has."


    Father''s face starts to fall before Gable continuous.


    "But there is a way to manage her condition and allow her to live like a normal child, least till she''s strong enough to control it herself. Rosalia, this is where we''ll need your help."


    Huh? Back to me again?


    ------

 65 Dream in a dream- isnt that just inception?

    "Come back, come back me please oh god please."


    "....Lilyanne, you shouldn''t....Lilyanne please. Let go."


    "Bring her back! Erik please, my sister please... she''s all I have."


    "Lilyanne."


    "I can''t. I can''t! I can''t heal her fast enough. She''s not healing fast enough!"


    "That''s enough Lily, please Lily you''re hurting yourself. You know you cant- she can''t be healed. That''s the curse, you- ...she. She wouldn''t want you like this."


    "DON''T SPEAK TO ME LIKE SHES GONE! ROSA! This isn''t funny, please Rosa. No more tricks, please wake up. Please. Please let me heal you, I can''t heal you if you don''t let me, please"


    "....."


    This.


    This is a shit dream.


    I hate this dream. I can''t ever do anything in it. I don''t feel pain because it''s a dream, or maybe it''s the shock, but it''s heavy. As if I had a bad cold and everything is super congested. My head is foggy, my vision teary and blurred, and I struggle to breathe through all the thick congestion in my lungs


    I don''t think it''s mucus though.


    This dream is basically the same, give or take the length, and I can''t ever do anything but watch it badly play out. I honestly rather watch those bad reality TV show reruns than this.


    The dream me coughs violently, literally hacking up painted bloody flowers on the white canvas in front of me. I''m getting her dress dirty. I can''t see her but I can feel my head propped up , the rest of myself laying on an uncomfortably wet floor, it''s very slippery. Anyone could fall and slip so easily on smooth marble.


    "Wake up, please, come to for me."


    Like a bad flu, maybe a case of bronchitis, my throat itches horribly and I can''t breathe through all the coughing. I don''t want to be here.


    But the dream doesn''t end yet, not tonight. Most of the time it doesn''t play through but I guess this isn''t one of those times


    I hear ragged breathe and bubbling gurgling sounds. Like the sound of a drowning person dry heaving. My throat isn''t in one piece.


    I don''t always get to this part in the dream but I feel indescribable exasperated displeasure at what I do see. I think the dream me is on her deathbed but somehow I have the capacity to be grossly annoyed, even more than the pain I''m supposed to be feeling.


    At the edge of the pretty ruby pool that''s spreading stands a marble statue.


    Correction, it''s a man, a living human who might as well be made out of stone. In the moonlight, he looks so pale, all blond hair and alabaster white skin. His face so still, and so well chiseled that I feel no issue with mistaking him for a classical statue.


    It looks like a red moon, it''s not, but my limited vision is tinged in red.


    "...you...."


    The dream me heaves, more and more vines of red flowers blooming from her mouth. She sounds like a chronic smoker with a voice box, a hole carved into the throat.


    "That''s it! Don''t speak! Please let me heal you..." sings the sweet voice from above. Heaven maybe?


    But I''m a heretic and I disobey.


    "....you.... don''t .... deserve her....


    The marble statue has the decency to look ashamed, crumbling in himself, even if he can''t look directly at me, at the bloody dying girl on the floor.


    "I know."


    The angel above snaps at all of us, hysterical.


    "Sssshhh save your strength! This isn''t the time. We can all talk about this later, please when you''re better. Please, let me save you first, please."


    "....you....keep.... her .... safe."


    "No no no, there''s no - none of that. You''ll be ok, please, please no. "


    "....I will."


    "Stop talking like that, stop talking!"


    The statue looks down with stone-cold eyes. He looks like a Greek God, too high up above, too beautiful and too full of damnation to us mere mortals, ants.


    But like a rock, he is sturdy and strong, and she is tired of the weight of living.


    She does not want her last words to be to this hateful man posing has a God. She cannot clasp her palms, cannot pray, so she clenches the expanse of once-white lace underneath her fingers to make it clear who she''s speaking to, trying to. She speaks in reverence to the heavens above, the angel and the pouring light that is so desperately trying to fix a too broken doll


    "...hope...you''re...happy...now."


    Be happy, please live and find happiness in this cruel world. If it''s you- it''s possible.


    "...you''re....free now...."


    I''m going to go now, I won''t hold you back anymore. I can''t hold anyone back anymore.


    "No no no, no dont'' speak anymore, no no don''t leave me all alone... not you too... no no no gods no...."


    Have you ever heard the heavens beg? It is not as sweet as you may think, it sounds like an ugly crying child. That''s exactly it, I still have the strength to laugh.


    "...so...ugly.... cries....so ....ugly."


    Stop crying. Don''t cry anymore. Don''t shed any more tears for me, I can''t take this kindness.


    "...I....hate....you."


    I love you.


    "....always....hated...you."


    I''m sorry for not being a good enough person, a strong enough person to save us.


    "why ...you?....hate you...so much."


    Don''t be fooled by others so easily! You''re always so easy! They don''t love you, don''t care for you- they will use you till you''re dried up and paint their golden carriages with your ground up bones. Don''t mistake adoration and greed for love.


    I love you okay? Not in the way that marbled man loves you- not in any way someone as hollow and unloved as me has the capacity to- but I love you very much.


    "Please no, please don''t ...don''t'' do this- don''t go. Please Rosa don''t-you can hate me it''s okay just please don''t- don''t leave!"


    "...let....me...go."


    I don''t want to be here anymore. I don''t want to hurt anymore.


    "Stay- come back to me, please oh by all the gods and goddesses please."


    ....No.


    "Wake up, please wake back up.


    No


    "Wake up! Rosa! Wake up!!!"


    No...


    -


    ---


    -------


    In the darkness there is rest, there is peace. I have no sense of self and certainly no sense of responsibility, pain or anything human. I just am, breathing, and I peacefully rest.


    That is until something pokes my cheek, irritating me awake.


    "If you don''t wake up, I''m really going kiss you this time"


    "If you don''t move away from me in 3 seconds I will bite you."


    "If it''s from pretty big sis then, yes please."


    Meng DeHua groaned, and waves her hand from the counter as if to swat away an annoying fly.


    "Herdandez! John! Do your jobs and get this shitty bartender away from me."


    "No can do! Boss'' fam gets immunity." shouts a gruff but humorous voice, the closet bodyguard, from across the room.


    "Ack! Calling out another man''s name right as you wake up!? Ow ow ow, you can hit me more but don''t call out another guy''s name."


    "Jung-soo! Get your shit- eating little brother under a leash. "


    "Hey hey it''s still no good if it''s my brother''s name! Actually, that''s worse!"


    From behind a sleek sliding screen that tastefully separates the bar from the kitchen, a cool handsome man in glasses peeks out for a moment.


    "That''s too troublesome. Try my hyung?"


    "Ahhh don''t call out hyung''s name too, heeeeey don''t ignore me Mengmeng."


    "Boooooooosssss! Get your youngest away. He''s sexually harassing customers again!"


    From up the stairs, another voice shouts back.


    "You don''t pay for it so you''re not a customer! Jung-joon stop giving her free booze, she even doesn''t work here anymore!"


    "Hey! You still use me on call! I do weekends sometimes. This is still harassment!"


    "Stop showing up so much then! Aye! I can''t stand your flirting, take it somewhere where else!"


    "I do not flirt!"


    "Don''t mind him, bak to me. He''s just jealous of us because he''s old and single and nowhere near as handsome as me!" the young bartender yells the last part up so it reaches whoever was upstairs on the club''s inner balcony. A "shut up" echoes back before the youth turns back to her.


    "There is no us, give me a break with that old joke Jung-joon, I''m tired and prolly dehydrated."


    There''s a glass of lemon water in front of her before she even knows it.


    "Are you having a rough time at your agency again? Another new market or product assignment? Which job is it now? You suddenly fell asleep with only two drinks today I was worried. You can always quit you know?"


    "Huh? Yeah probably that, my director keeps piling me on because I of all people, can ''handle it.'' . But nah, I just had that weird dream again. The full version."


    "The one where you''re like, a girl''s dating sims villian? Do you get a fan and horn drill curls too? Ow, I''m kidding, ah but don''t move your hand away. You must really like that series deep down to dream about it."


    "I don''t even remember reading or playing anything like it though! Where did it come from? Really good graphics on that bad endding though, too good. It gives me the heebiejeebies."


    "Awww, don''t be scared. You know even if you somehow did have a magical twin sister, I''d never put her over you~. Wanna play a new game together? It can be a date."


    "That''s because I don''t have a sister you soggy dish rag for brains. Go out and get a girlfriend if you''re so desperate. You should have no problem Mr. popular! Nevermind, you should be studying for your grad exams! AH, youth, I remember those times."


    "I''m trying to, thank you for noticing....you''re only 3 years older than me."


    "Ah youth! So loooong ago, oh my back, ow my head."


    "Hyyuuung, I''m taking the car and getting Mengmeng to her place. She looks oddly hungover today."


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "And whose fault is that?! Meng Dehua you''re working the next 3 wedding sized events for me when you''re next free to pay this tab!"


    The girl hops off the barstool and waves off everyone still cleaning up in the trendy but elegant club. Her volunteer designated driver steadying her as they make their way to the exit.


    "Yeah yeah I know, bye to you too boss! *sigh*....Thanks for the ride dude but you don''t have to, I can take the metro fine."


    "Mmm, of course, I have to? I can''t let you go alone like that. What if some bad guys see your vulnerable drunk self and come harass you or, *gasp* I don''t even wanna think about it. Unless this is the part that I come in dramatically punching them out, which makes your heart beats fast and you swoon at the sight of me and-"


    She slides into the car''s open passenger seat and closes on the door on him mid sentence, leaving him to fumble around to the driver''s side.


    "MengMeng, it''s far safer with me. Don''t put yourself at risk like that, it worries me. Here you can take a nap if you want? I''ll drive really slowly and softly. Are you comfortable enough, do you want another plushie pillow? I''ll wake you up you get home ok? So just rest easy."


    *yawn* "...yeah do that...please...wake me up....when I''m ...home."


    -----


    ---


    -


    I blink awake, sleep still heavy over me. I blink awake slowly like how you could pull a warm blanket off in the morning. Nowhere near as comfortable as sleeping in.


    The dreams, or displaces memories, I blink those away too, scrubbing my eyes with squishy little arms.


    What an odd dream, I wonder why out of all things I would dream of that?...That''s right, I had those dreams sometimes. Those names, "Lilyanne","Eirk", "Rosa" ...those are our names.


    Did I really get transferred into an otome game world I don''t remember ever playing? I tried searching for them on the internet but no real results ever matched up. But here I am.


    Then....is this world a game? Or a story?


    I don''t know but it doesn''t matter when I''m physically living in it. I''m Rosalia now, I have been Rosalia for all this time. Everyone is a story if you think about it like that. I mean just look at grampa.


    Wonder why I dreamt of my other life, of the bar I used to work at? It''s not like they were the only people I complained to about that dream, god knows my family heard me all the time.


    I must miss tasty booze too much.


    Grow up faster oh tiny body of mine. Wait, no, don''t I still have plans and things to do.


    "Rosa! wak wak up!" shouts Lilyanne''s excitedly, far too loud since she''s right next to me on the bed! Ugh, we''re going to have a talk about looming and scaring me in the mornings!


    But, it isn''t morning light? And wasn''t I just at the outer farm? How am I back in our shared bedroom?


    "She''s awake!? Call for my husband and papa back, she''s woken up!"


    "Mama?"


    "Yes Rosa! Oh how are you feeling my darling? Oh my little girl, don''t be scared. You will never have to step foot on those dirty scary harvestings, I knew you were far too young to go and see those things I told Frederick darling and-"


    "She''s awake?"


    The guiled double doors open with a bang even with the servants'' opening it up, and father rushes up where mother and Lilyanne seem to be hovering over me. He''s still dressed in the same common peasant garb, one of his end scene Mr. Darcy shirts, from earlier.


    I remember now, the farm, the hogs. The clumsy teenagers that overdid the bleeding. Somehow it affected me so badly I passed out?


    How embarrassing! In front of everyone too!


    I''m really not that that squeemish! Is it this body? To be triggered by the sight of a pig to slaughter?


    Oh no after this mother won''t let me go out anywhere! I can secretly escape when she''s not looking but it''s a pain and so much harder. This won''t do!


    "I''m fine! I''m realy fine, I must have missed too many naps, or got thrown too hard! As a pumpkin! Oh nevermind I''ll explain later mama. Da- ...father? What happened after, where are we?"


    "You''re home Rosa, your grandfather was closer when there was shouting how you simply collapsed. We flew back to the camp but troops medical team checked over you and couldn''t find what was wrong. You just fainted and slept the whole time till now."


    "I''m sorry! I''ll do better at sleeping enough during naps and at bedtime."


    "Well I should hope so! Frederick darling did you let her stay up late?"


    "Of course not dear, I did not ''let Chip to stay up."


    "Oh that just means you two did so anyway! I suppose you were up drawing all sorts of toys and contraptions again! You hardly come to bed on time either and-"


    Maybe it would be smarter to stay silent as mother is distracted from me to father. But it''s actually my fault this time soooo....


    ...I have to resort to the big guns to ease her this time.


    Be thankful father!


    "Mama I''m sowwy, it''s all my fault. I won''t do it again. Please mama, don''t tell me I''m grounded? Pweeeeease mama!"


    Baby voice me sounds far more diabetic than Lilyanne''s naturally sweet cry. I need to drop my shame and really up the sugar levels to soften up my mother when she''s like this. I can''t faucet cry like Lilyanne but cue the wet teary eyes!


    I''m also saving my own hide, really please don''t put me on lock down again. I''ll go mad with boredom! You don''t need any more hair ribbons mother, please I counted so many in your closet already.


    *Sigh* "You''re thinking of running out again already?! Oh dear must you take after these of your papa and grandpapa? Darling, I''d never ''ground'' you, that sounds terrible. No dear, I''m keeping you home, you''re obviously too fragile to be out for so long Please, try to learn a bit from your sister and be good, you''re a girl you know?"


    "What does being a girl have to do with if I''m grounded or not?"


    "Rosalia Therese Ventrella! You are to sit and stay home where you are meant to be, not gallivanting around like an adult man, for a very long time! And you too Frederick darling, don''t think you''re off the hook yet! Where is my papa? Did I not call for him? He can''t be hiding again, not when I called?"


    Ah I''m doomed, mother caught all of us and we''re doomed. Lilyanne is giggling at the scene, not understanding the implications of punishment that father and I are now going to be facing. Grampa''s joining us soon or I call foul.


    Say father, did you manage to bring home mother''s peace offering presents at least?


    Eventually, grampa does arrive, fashionably late to the party, as ever. I don''t know whether out of the fear for mother or something else but the air is off. He''s smiling like usual but it feels off.


    "Pumpkin you''re awake! Thank goodness it was nothing serious, even Gable assured me! Did the sausage stuffing shock scare you that much! My my my I don''t know how you''ll become a fine hero without a better constitution!"


    "Papa! Of course it did! She''s only a small child, don''t be dragging her off in training so much yet. You wouldn''t do such a thing to Lilyanne. Rosalia may be older but not by much."


    Grampa relents, full on comfort mode towards mother. She''s getting all the pets and pats and he soothes her like a child.


    "Yes yes my dear Maria, I''m sorry I''ll keep a better eye out on your eldest baby girl here. But first, it looks my troublesome granddaughter and I need to have a special talk! May we Maria? Freddy?"


    "Oh yes please! It''s about time! Rosa my little girl if you don''t want to listen to mama, then listen to your grandpapa about behaving."


    Well that doesn''t sound very strict, don''t you know best what grampa is like?


    With a clap mother motions her maids and seemingly with one hand gathers both Lilyanne and father up and out. She doesn''t lock the door but when it closes, a zap of green lights the room, sealing all doors, windows, and crevices.


    Grampa has taken my mother''s place on the bed and pats my hair into a bird''s nest from his looming position. Grin far too wide and stupid, to the point his eyes are closed.


    I know this face, this atmosphere. It feels like those times when I was just a newborn.


    He''s not really smiling, not with his eyes and I gulp.


    "Wasn''t that harvest wonderful!?! Well except for that last part you know. Did you have fun, Rosalia?"


    I just can''t catch a break, can I?


    -----

 66 I dont wanna do this, do you?

    So you know how mother basically grounded me just now?


    There is only one person that can override mother''s orders. It''s not father. It''s not grampa.


    It''s the one, the only, great Gable!


    Yes, Gable solves all, let''s contact Gable! Didn''t he examine me when I was down and out somehow? Did you say something about that right gramps? Let''s get Gable here! Or somehow contact him!?


    Wouldn''t that be a much better idea than this?!


    Grampa''s smiling expression gives nothing away as she peers at me through his scarily perfect smile.


    "....actually yes that is a much better idea."


    Aaaaaaaaaand he breaks. Just sighs with comical relief as his panicked stupid expression comes back out.


    "Right! It''s a great idea, we should get Gable to help."


    "We should call Gable!"


    "You can do that gramps? Well, get on it!"


    That actually worked? Who cares, great, we''re on the same page here! He doesn''t really want to have whatever this bad conversation is either.


    With another sigh of relief and strange-looking artifact he seemingly pulls out of thin air, from the plain leather wristband tied to his person I finally noticed, grampa draws an electric circle in the air. It materializes into a port key sort of things and rings in electric vibrations like a phone.


    Grampa and I silently await the magical equivalent of a phone call to ring and connect.


    It''s too awkward for me to even yell because he had this device the whole time? You know how much effort it would have saved if he just gave me one? Why are we still using messenger birds if you have this sort of magical technology!?


    I mean, obviously no one else has it so maybe it''s rare and Gable exclusive. I''m still low key mad about it though.


    The floating circle bloops to life and one of Gable''s portals solidifies as his image appears. Blessed be Gable! Today his hair is in a dashing bun! So lovely! He looks very handsome and not at all like a tired new parent to a hyperactive child!


    "I see the both of you are calling, yes?"


    Before Grampa nor I could get a word of confirmation out Gable directs a glare over to grampa.


    "Ronald, stop being a dammed coward."


    Eh?


    Before I can get over my confusion at what''s going on or why grampa has suddenly crumpled like a popped balloon, my world''s favorite person turns to me. I know it''s directed at me because his voice turns much more gentle but no less pinpoint sharp.


    "And Rosalia, I''m disappointed in you."


    Ouch! ow ow ouch! I''m not kidding, this actually hurts.


    These short curt words are so deadly coming from Gable''s lips. He sounds actually let down! But what did I do?!


    ...I mean I have an idea but.....ah this is really difficult.


    "Talk it out you two, you''re already here. Don''t even think about using me as a distraction or a translator. "


    Damn, Gable truly is amazing. With one look he''s seen through the both of us.


    If there''s one thing grampa and I automatically agree on, it''s how much we don''t really want to address the elephant in the room.


    Except we''re each other''s elephants and the topic is reincarnation. Or is it transmigration? I don''t know! World hopping?


    How does one even bring that up?!


    Oh hello great big scary muscle bear man, I, a tiny toddler am actually an adult woman with mostly all my memories intact. Would you like to perhaps discuss the strange limitations of life and the universe over a beer?


    NO!


    No I can''t just go right out and say it like that! I can''t even drink!


    ...grampa what are you doing? Grampa what is in that flask? Grampa!? No fair how come he gets liquid courage and I don''t!


    "Because I made this wine and you''re only two and oh god do I really have to do this right now? Can''t we wait till she''s older? Til I''m older!?" pleads gramps to the mirror.


    For once I agree with him.


    Sure there are many things I''d like to know from grampa but now that we''re here this is too awkward for the both of us. We''re clearly not ready for this conversation. Let''s put it off a little while longer yeah?


    I''m not at risk of dying just yet right? We can wait! Please don''t make me confront this, I am feeling very attacked right now. Wait I''m weak, I''m recuperating from whatever just happened to me! Yes, lets put this off for another better time.


    Gable gives us both very unimpressed stares from across the magical screen.


    "....you two are certainly related, I''ll give you that."


    "Well, of course, that''s why we''re even here." declared grampa in such a simplistic way that had Gable rolling his eyes.


    How unrelated and somewhat offensive Gable. I love and respect you but I don''t see the family resemblance between grampa and me. Perhaps you''re mistaking me with Lilyanne? Though that''s increasingly harder to do since my hair''s turned closer to my father''s shade. I am tanner, like grampa, though?


    Through the camera portal Gable gives a long sigh and makes to threateningly hang up.


    "Handle it between yourselves, ...god they''re so much fucking alike."


    "We are not." I manage to cry out


    "Still can hear you Gabbey."


    Gable looks down somewhere off-screen, there''s the sound of childish screaming and a roaring clucking in the background. I''m guessing Lukas is in trouble with the chickens again.


    "By the gods, it''s not that bloody hard to...just talk it out you two- now Ronald."


    "....yes Gable."


    "No one is forcing you to do anything, no one can force you to do anything, not even me."


    "I beg to differ! There was most certainly that time w-"


    "Then beg." Gable interrupts curtly, shutting grampa down with nothing more than his cold voice and a colder glare. I can almost see grampa''s doggy tail droop down into obedience.


    I would also like to beg to differ about this topic but do not speak out. It''s rude to interrupt and honestly, I think I would die if Gable talked to be the same harsh way he does grampa.


    "Ronald...don''t do this for anyone else but yourself. Do this for the 13-year-old you or the 10 year old or hell even the 2 year old. Do it for you."


    "....which one are we talking about here?"


    "You know that better than I would hero."


    "...so about the begging?"


    But before grampa could distract and divert the topic, Gable turns to me, instantly softening. Oh thank god, glaring Gable is scary. Very very pretty still don''t get me wrong but scary.


    "And Rosalia, you''re still a child no matter what you may think. It''s alright to cry or seek help because that''s what children must do. You''re allowed to be scared or frightened of things, everyone is. Do you understand me Rosa?"


    "...yes Gable." I sulk, already uncomfortable all over again. But I can''t say no to Gable.


    "Don''t hold everything in till you go mad, or rather, you don''t have to. Alright dear?"


    "....yes Gable."


    "You''re a good girl you know that? You may call yourself many things, many names inside that overthinking head of yours but, there''s a very good and kind person there. Don''t sell yourself short kiddo."


    That''s stupid, I am not good. I never scored any of the good on the alignment chart. I''m a chaotic neutral at best.


    I am selfish and only interested in anything that can benefit me. Only Lilyanne is my strange exception for reasons I don''t fully understand myself. Even then that''s complicated. But I don''t say so out in front of Gable, because if he says I''m good then at least for my favorite person I''ll be good. Just in front of him at least.


    "You''re better than you think you are...the both of you. Ronald, you''ve proven that again and again despite the odds so....so I''ll be waiting for you when you''re done alright. You won''t get through everything in one day, but you can start. I believe in you, the both of you."


    "But-"


    And with a zap of light, the portal dispells and he''s gone. He really hung up.


    It''s a complicated feeling, being both scolded and comforted. I never feel more like a vulnerable child than when under the scrutiny of Gable.


    I am very uncomfortable but growth oftentimes is.


    This isn''t something we can just get over, it''s a hard topic to breach. But a part of me wants to be the sort of good that Gable thinks I''m capable of. What a strange messy sort of person I am, a really ugly person.


    Like a tiny caterpillar, squirming around and feeding myself fat. In order to grow into a butterfly, I have to melt into goo and restructure myself atom by atom as a pupa. Except in this mental picture, I''ll never be a butterfly. I''ll melt into goo and something beautiful won''t come out of it, if I even do come out at all.


    Maybe a moth or something. Those annoying flapping things that keep flying into your house at night, maybe into your computer screen when the room is dark. Dumb things.


    While I''m contemplating the futility of my very sad existence, grampa takes another long and unfair swig of his flask.


    "A thousand flaming arrows." he finally croaks out, voice breaking from either a burp or something else I don''t know.


    "....a what?"


    "I don''t know, somewhere around that number? I couldn''t exactly count! So a thousand something enchanted flaming arrows just hailing from the sky."


    ".....that''s....uh...dramatic? Epic? I don''t know."


    What am I supposed to make of this random information? Grampa can you be clearer for god''s sake....actually you know what I give up. There''s no beating around the bush with this man, no subtlety outside the battlefield. If you want anything with grampa you have to ask for it, directly. Conversation with him is essentially hitting the topic straight on.


    Let''s just rip this bandage off.


    "Grampa, what are you even talking about?"


    "I don''t know! I hardly remember it myself okay, or well try not to."


    "Remember what? I''m confused. A thousand flaming arrows falling from the sky? Is that like an attack sequence or something?"


    "....Yeah Gable warned me about being clearer... it''s just um....well...that''s how I died."


    "Yes, you do need to be clearer because I''m always stuck guessing what you''re really saying and- oh...ohhhh."


    Well, I messed up already. The realization of grampa''s words coming too late. I''m so used to half tuning through his bullshit that when it actually something as serious as this, I wasn''t prepared for it at all. That''s my bad.


    "....Sorry." I mutter.


    Do I pat him on the arm or something? A word of comfort? What do you say to that? I can only apologize for my own behavior because what do you say to ''btw death by arrows''. I didn''t realize we were already going straight for the kill.


    As expected of grampa, he''s ripping his own bandage off first. Painfully, awkwardly and did I mention painfully.


    "Nothing to be sorry about, unless you were secretly the one laying siege on us." grampa sighed into his drink.


    "So...were you um, injured beforehand grampa? Or with this just a big bad sneak attack-"


    "Both, both very injured and they kept attacking. Kinda both? It stops being a sneak attack after the first time."


    "I mean...it''s still a sneak attack?"


    "Yes, I suppose it really was, huh. I mean I knew but- guess it wasn''t enough."


    "So....."


    "So yeah, death by a thousand or so flaming arrows. I honestly didn''t mind that part so much."


    Wait wait what! How does one not mind dying?! By a thousand flaming arrows. One arrow is bad enough ripping through flesh or your skull. What''s a thousand of them gonna do to the point one doesn''t mind!?


    Grampa takes my befuddlement with a chuckle, not yet drunk but perhaps a bit more relaxed from the wine.


    "The worst part isn''t so much dying. Living is full of death. " he takes another swig and a steadying breath.


    "It''s dying with a sense of loss, a sense of waste. You''re the waste. It''s dying after watching your world collapse, dying worse than shit without leaving anything good behind you. Where the world and everyone you ever touched really was better off without you ever existing, and you brought this hell to them just by being there."


    He looks down at his free hand and examines it in an oddly fascinated kind of way. As if it were a strange foreign things, that perhaps had a cursed Midas touch. He smiles wryly, more than a little self depreciatingly and his eyes unintentionally meet mine.


    I think there''s still on fire, whatever he still sees when he closes his eyes long enough. It must all still be on fire, ruin.


    He holds out his seemingly cursed hand, hovering above me. Then sighs and pats my head with it. When I do not turn into a golden statue or erupt into flames or whatever cursed touch he''s imagining, he''s roughly messing up my hair into the usual bird''s nest.


    "Hey!"


    This time I don''t fight it though, not really. There''s something awfully disconcerting about the touch, more on grampa''s side than my own. As if he''s confronting something.


    "Well...it''s too late for you anyways little one. " he sighs.


    Ah, I guess it doesn''t matter if we curse me by head pats.


    He''s not wrong though, out of everyone near him, it really is too late for me. Just by existing, I am something that''s not meant to be.


    Doesn''t mean I want to die so awfully though. But living is also painful.


    "Really though, I think the worst part wasn''t even me dying worse than dog shit." grampa complained. He sounds so casual about it now, like the way I would complain about work at the bar.


    Ahhhhhh, I want a drink too, what an awkward spot to be in. I get nothing to break the tension, nada.


    "I had to watch a lot of people die before me, died because of me. They were all better than me, this poor nobody, and they all still dropped dead if they weren''t already from the night before."


    He leans back and his head hits the headboard with a loud thump. It sounded like it would hurt if he were a normal person.


    "....your subordinates?" I ask, a child being told a story they don''t get. Did you fail a raid, fail to defend against a battle? Did you lead your men to their death in the wars of yesteryear?


    "No, nothing like that. I was a bastard of nobody, I had no power to subordinate anyone really."


    "But-" but that doesn''t make sense.


    You''re the hero, the strongest most renowned hero of this world. How could someone larger than life as grampa be a cursed nobody?


    Well, I guess that''s where the reincarnation comes in.


    "And then?" I ask, prompting the next line in this impromptu script.


    "And then....well I''m not sure what happened. I died, I died very miserably. I died and I couldn''t save the people most important to me. I died only a few feet away from the cold corpse of my most precious person, I couldn''t even....yeah. I died."


    It''s like he can''t decide on what to say, how to word his thoughts in the proper sequence and order. So he takes another drink. That''s the magic of alcohol, it gets the words going. I can smell the red wine that spices his breath. It''s not infused with honey, herbs or anything that would dilute it. This wine doesn''t need to be masked, it''s a proper aged red wine, none of the cheap stuff I know is local to the taverns and troops.


    "I died and that was that. And somewhere else, a boy dreamed bits and pieces of that sad nobody''s life. And that boy grew up to be a fine general in his own right. It was a different world than here, where people didn''t rely so much on magic, where the world wasn''t wrecked by beats and war, and there was actually wine to be had. Did you know no one here knew how to brew a good wine a couple of decades ago? Preposterous!? Everything was weaker than cat''s piss or it tasted just as bad."


    I nod in understanding and can feel as grampa shivers at the memory. A world with no wine? Ah how utterly depressing. That''s how I feel about the lack of rice wine, I still haven''t found it here. It''s hard to replicate the taste of cooking without rice wine.


    " What about beer? Other spirits?"


    "Mead! They had mead for the rich and cat piss for the rest of us!"


    "....do you mean ale?"


    "No! I updated everyone''s cat piss into an actual ale! It was awful, and then there were convincing people to actually grow hops! Or grow anything that wasn''t immediately meant to be eaten! Oh god the farms- oh by the gods I had never seen such pathetic excuses of farmlands."


    ....They actually are still pretty sad and lacking. The lack of modernization and techniques still had be cringing. I don''t want to imagine just how bad they were back in grampa''s youthful days.


    There there, I pat his chest where I can reach. I finally understand some of your pain gramps.


    Taking another lingering sip of his properly made wine, grampa shudders but realizes he''s gotten off


    the topic.


    "So one day, the general, who was everything that nobody ever was, one day he died."


    "....how?"


    "...he doesn''t know exactly. Maybe it was in battle, but it probably wasn''t. He died, maybe a little too angrily and then.....he was born again."


    "Into a Ronald Ventrella?"


    "....no....and yes. I didn''t have a name, first or last. But I was born with all of that boy general''s memories, and then all of my own. And while I was remembering the weight of it all, the woman who must have gave birth to me disappeared."


    "She just vanished?"


    "She left us in the wilderness. Thus the no name."


    "Us?"


    The more he speaks the more confused I get. Grampa gives me three more questions for every single one he answers.


    "My brother I suppose, he didn''t make it for long. Never had a chance out there. "


    "Wait wait wait?! What sort of brother? A twin brother?!"


    "Hmmmm yes I suppose that''s considered a twin brother."


    "Holy shit!"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    "Language Rosalia." shruggs grampa, who has his priorities in all the wrong places.


    What the hell? What in the world is with all these revelations! What could they all mean?! Gable please, Gable come help me out. I''m so confused and also rightfully terrified!


    "Annnnnnd I''m out of wine. Used it all up while we''re at those farms. Gods they look so much better than back then. Your turn little one."


    "Wait no grampa, you can''t just leave off at that part! That has to be important somehow!? Twins?! Lilyanne and I are twins!"


    "Yes, yes I think everyone already knows that."


    "So?! You don''t find it fishy or....or you already know something about that."


    "Rosalia dear I am still very much out of wine and I''m not hearing much from your side. I am absolutely complaining to Gable after this."


    Well...that''s fair. I''m still reeling in shock at all the tibbets I''ve hears thus far. It''s informational overload. The conspiracy theories in my brain are not connecting shit but they''re connecting something with these dots.


    "Are we done for the day Rosalia or shall we get to talking about your little episode. That might happen again if you''re triggered by anything too close your death but it gets better as you get stronger. Obviously fire and arrows doesn''t bother me at all. I don''t know how it will be for you but I stopped being so terribly affected after childhood. Cept for that one time that-"


    Grampa sprouts off, scratching his chin like he''s not just throwing his reincarnation vulnerabilities at me.


    But he is and it''s awkward and uncomfortable for both of us, even with the wine. But holy shit he''s actually trying. This man famous for wandering and disappearing through the land, the world''s most powerful hero yet awfully the biggest goof is actually being real with me.


    I don''t know how to feel about this but a strange hiccup is rising up in me.


    It must be thirst and the envy for drinking yes. I''m not getting emotional or tearing up for any other reason!


    "A couple of dozen stabs."


    "...what?"


    "I don''t know I didn''t count! It''s not a thousand arrows but maybe it totaled into the hundreds, I wouldn''t know. There was a sword wound and some other things in the mix in there too and I''m sure the blades were enchanted. Shit the stairs! I tumbled down the super gigantic stairs too ok so-"


    And for the first time ever, I tell someone how I died.


    _________________


    Bonus short:


    -----------------


    How does one go about addressing the woolly mammoth in the room?


    I may be rash at times, I admit- actions speak far louder than words. But I don''t think I can just go:


    Why hello there tiny easily killable human being who happens to be the unfortunate seed from the fruit of my loins. Welcome to this world- you''re going to have a bad time by no fault of my own.


    Really it''s not my fault the world is just awful. I''m just here riding the currents.


    I just so happened to have noticed that you''re not exactly of this world. Why I was once like that, fumbling through confusion fear and trauma! Ah feels just like yesterday, wait it was just yesterday. Here let me pull up a chair and we can mull over it over a jug of wine.


    No!


    No I can''t just do that. See Gable there are very good reasons why I can''t just- oh never mind. You don''t actually listen to this part when you''re weaving cloth with your little hooks. Why do you call it such odd names, crowchetting? Obviously it''s called knotting, spinning or weaving.


    Ah see I forgot what I was saying again! Oh age! Grand glorious aging, I swear I have not always been like this and easily distracted. Oh have you done something new with your hair, a new braid? It looks lovely as always.


    What I''m saying is, this conversation is not happening, not any time soon. What do I even say to her?! How do I start!?


    No I can''t just say what I just told you! That''s just idiotic!


    Yes I know my own eldest grandchild already thinks I''m an idiot at times but this conversation would truly be a mistake. This isn''t our Maria, Rosalia is a far more intimidating creature! We''ll never look at each other the same! Well not that we already interact normally. It''s been too late for us since her birth hasn''t it?


    I don''t know I was never trained for this!


    There was no protocol in the military for any of this! I can make a catapult out of near nothing not talk to supernaturally intelligent toddlers! Oh gods, was I ever like that? I would think not, I was still running around hunting dinosaur tails at that age. Ah, life was so much easier back then. No people, no clothes, of course, it was horribly lacking but what a simple life!


    I was not a savage feral barbarian Gable. I was simply a free child, a very free and spirited child living in the wilds. It was a wonderful training experience growing up.


    ...What if I just took Rosalia on a training trip? A real one this time? Just like when I was young! That''s bonding right?! Just like you said? What communication!


    ....okay I was wrong, Gable put down the wand, please. Sorry sorry ow, I got it no more leaving kids alone in the woods! Sheesh, what''s the big deal? I did it and I turned out fine.


    Okay okay shutting up now, I was wrong. Gable I''m sorry! Gaaaable, don''t ignore me this is serious.


    Being a grandpapa is so difficult, especially when your grandchild is the cute but troublesome Rosalia.


    What do you mean I''m far more trouble?! Sure we got into some, many, messes in our youth but you liked it right? You''re still here. Come on, it was fun on its own, I admit chaotic, way, don''t deny it. I am a grand delight!~


    -------

 84 Waste not Bake a lo

    "Father! I have a solemn question that must be answered in all earnestness."


    Looking like a wealthy, not at all suggestive, human waste in a very detailed historical film, father sips his merlot without a care. It''s a very simple action but a cool looking scene. If there weren''t for the escaping rays of winter sunlight streaming through the blurry window panes of his office, I would say he resembles a vampire.


    Red chair, red hair, crystal goblet of red blood- er I mean wine.


    In the winter his clothes take on a darker, somber coloring and feel, creating a sharp contrast against warm ivory skin.


    "Of course Chip my dear. What is it you wish to know now?"


    He sits like a boss, a scene right out of Godfather, all that''s missing is the kitten on his lap.


    I guess that''s me? Hey, wait why am I on his lap? This is a serious discussion! I should be on the other side of the desk.


    Unfortunately due to my short limbs, the best I can do is climb over and on top of the desk. There we go, that''s a much more intimidating position.


    "Father, were you a villain?"


    Eeeeeeew and now he''s looking like a haunted house actor with cheesy fake blood running down. Choking on his wine like that. Control yourself! Air goes down one pathway, liquids another!


    How are you going to eat my bribery snacks if you''re already done with breathing father?


    I spent a lot of time perfecting the recipe for imitation sweet red bead soup. It was quite a struggle piecing things together with my limited ingredients in this world! No tapioca pearls, not the right sugar, no this or that.


    I even did my best to make toasted mochi for it.


    The rice still isn''t right, it needs to be more gluttonous for that dumpling like chewiness.


    Oh finding the right rice is so awfully difficult. The rice that''s most commonly cultivated around these parts is closer to arborio or carnaroli rice. Short to medium grains of soft. It''s starchy, rich, creamy, and breaks down to make a wonderful gruel or risotto. Really beautiful stuff.


    *sigh* It''s just not right for too many dishes I want to make. It too soft but kinda works for mochi?


    Not sticky enough. We''re really just winging it and testing things out.


    I know I''m not the only one suffering from wrong rice syndrome. None of the chefs can figure out how to make Amar''s favored rice pudding either? Like he''ll eat it but complains that the smell and chew is all wrong. Must be the rice.


    Why oh why are there so many types of grains and rice in the world! It is both a blessing and a curse!


    We baked some lovely Torta di Riso from all the failed rice pudding attempts though. Innovation! That was quite a light and tasty cake, especially with some dried berries and father''s stolen liquor. Baking imparts such an amazing flavor to that custard. Ahhh so yummy and chewy, too bad my staff inhaled it all.


    Sorry father, no more baked rice pudding tarts for your snack. Maybe next time.


    Father, can you breathe yet? Yes? No?


    He gives me an irritated choking sound but nods none the less. There there the alcohol burns now doesn''t it? Ah I remember what that was like. Ahh I miss alcohol.


    "Let me rephrase my question then, for clarity. Have you been or ever were widely considered a ''villain''?"


    "A what?!" he chokes even further.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Have some soup father, wash down the burn with sweetness and your beloved beans. Geez, for someone who is supposedly well regarded for his intellect, it''s very redundant to have to explain the definition of a villain.


    "A villain. A cruelly malicious person who is involved in or devoted to wickedness and crime. As a character in a play, novel, or the like, who constitutes an important evil agency in the plot."


    And there he goes again with the choking again. Ewwww don''t waste my hard efforts!


    It''s another fresh and lovely day for me as the young miss of the Ventrella household. Being said young miss I can''t allow these grievances to haunt my growing henchmen. Thus the personal investigations.


    Who is causing havoc in my troops? A mere spoiled rich brat? How dare he!? I''m the only rich brat allowed to reign power!


    I don''t care if it''s just the younger generation who I know nothing about, this is my territory and it obviously affects my people. Now and in the future!


    Knowing Philippe, he doesn''t do well against those he perceives to be shining brighter than himself. Which given the numbskull of a haughty child, who is more hot air than substance, that''s not very difficult.


    I hate to say it but Lukas is technically the strongest of that age group. I''ve confirmed it with some of the older troop members and tired instructors at the bar, ahem I mean my soda fountain.


    Though when they say strongest though they more or less meant: most likely to break people, things, wreak havoc, and just take the most beatings while rolling right back.


    That''s quite a resilient body magic had blessed him with huh? I see why Philippe would resent the boy. I can see even easier how he could use Lukas'' attention neediness into making him into a henchman.


    Amar though?


    Their previous interaction, though very interesting, proves to me that those two don''t get along. I don''t think a kid like Amar would appreciate getting manipulated into becoming someone''s henchmen. Nor would I think it would even work.


    That''s probably why Philippe is more wary of the smaller boy. He can''t use him like Lukas.


    Though the instructors admit that Lukas is technically the strongest of the young children, they praise Amar on his speed and having the most reliable kill rate. Great, I totally don''t know what that means. Beast? Humans? I don''t know! I didn''t ask!


    Let''s not think too hard about that. Either way that means he also hits Philippe''s insecurity points just right.


    No one can be better than Philippe, nobody does it like Philippe, blah blah blah. Yeah yeah I heard enough of it in his snooty voice for one lifetime.


    To be honest I was very worried about Lukas'' little story the other day. Yes, Lukas is absolutely being emotionally manipulated by my cousin but isn''t Amar the one being targetted for group bullying? Philippe told Lukas and the other boys to specifically not play with him. What kind of juvenile bullying tactic is this?! Obviously, it didn''t work on Lukas but what about others?


    Oh dear, isn''t it bad for a child''s development if they can''t get along with their peers?


    Isn''t the kid getting kidnapped by my staff far too often? Has anyone in the troops noticed? Do they even care? What is the childcare system there?! Lukas is so friendly and chatty that it''s off-putting to some yeah but does Amar even bother making friends that aren''t teens and adults?


    Do they even realize they''re getting ostracized and bullied?!


    Lukas sure doesn''t. Just look at this kid, he''d befriend a moldy rock with drawn-on eyes if we let him! And I don''t know how much I can trust Amar with his "oh I have a bleeding crack in my skull but I''m fiiiiiiiiiine, I''m glad the person who abused me feels better~" either!


    My growing henchmen are such worrisome creatures.


    Philippe is a such a classic two-bit villain! Such a threat from my dear young cousin already, right under my nose. Really now I wouldn''t be a very good young miss if I allowed such an intrusion in my own territory.


    It''s also best to cut the bud of trouble early. Otherwise, what''s the point of having the cheat of my memories!


    Yet even with all my memories, I do believe the original goods was missing out on a lot of info growing up.


    Like say, all the dirt on Philippe, which means his background and family.


    He''s my cousin but my father keeps me away from any and all direct contact with essentially all other Bicchieri clan members. I know he''s not on good terms with them but really now, how suspicious. What gives?


    To defeat one''s enemy you must know one''s enemy.


    Here''s what I know for absolute sure.


    The Bichierri''s are old money, and money makes money.


    Geographically the Bichierri family home is located North-West of ours, with their own coast and port to sea. They have a much larger and more established port, and their own merchant ships and vessels to conduct trade. In the capital and many other major trading hubs, the Bicchierri is a big name controlling a good part of the flow of merchandise coming in and out.


    They have multiple properties around the land and across borders. Multiple mansions and a huge presence in the capital as well. There''s always a Bicchieri or 3 in the capital, even if it''s just my aunts who are technically no longer Bicchieri after marriage.


    However, that name is very much synonymous with what they specialize in producing and selling. A luxury item that is only available for the filthy rich and fellow elite ranking nobility. The most popular thing they''re known for...is glass.


    Crystal clear sparkling glass. From the detailed little decanter and goblets my father drinks from, to the impossibly wide glass windows that decorate the largest mansions in the capital, the Bicchierri hold the patent and recipes to the finest glass in the land.


    In fact, it''s the only clear colorless glass in the land.


    Glass manufacturing is not widely known and is extremely expensive. ''Perfect'' clear glass is even more ridiculously rare, the cost increases exponentially with size and clarity. Make large panes of glass is extremely difficult, most people wouldn''t be able to get their hands on a modern windowpane even if they did have the funds. Elites have no issue just throwing money at status items and there are few things that indicate wealth and social connectivity as getting Bicchierri glass to adorn one''s home and accessories.


    Crystal chandeliers. Ladies'' vanity mirrors. Jewels that sparkle like disco balls in the light. Garden houses, ballrooms, and halls of infinite mirrors. If it is clear, large and beautiful it is definitely Bicchieri.


    No one else can produce such things.


    We have our own handmade glass windows, though small, and father has his own personal glassware for his drinks. Then there are the resin cups he helped me make for my soda fountain.


    The glassmaking technique must exist somewhere in my father''s head. He was a Bicchieri for all his life, at least until marriage. However, he doesn''t touch on or profits from that industry.


    He truly cut off and left that part of his life behind when he married mother. Devoted himself entirely to developing the Ventrella name and properties. It''s more than a little odd.


    Everything in his ''dowry'' that father brought with him has no connections left to his old home. From his investment properties to his pet puppy horses, he took what was his and never looked back. Alfonso doesn''t speak a word of the past but he came with father from that place too.


    Besides formal events, there''s no contact between them. Not even a personal letter. There''s more enough evidence if common sense wasn''t enough to say that things are bitter between father and his own blood relatives.


    I wasn''t forced to interact with my cousins until I was much older than now. Perhaps things had cooled to a certain point, when he could no longer just not respond to the matriarch Bicchieri''s insistent callings.


    Yes yes yes, their relations seem to be more formality than anything. Though grandmother Bicchierri was always calling, the rest of father''s family never did quite forgive him for the shame that was marrying away and throwing away his family name and honor.


    I don''t think that''s really his fault though?


    I don''t think there''s a man, dead or alive, that could outrank my mother, the sole Ventrella after grampa. Being the only child of the world''s hero has its perks and powers.


    If I look back on it with my current mindset...weren''t all those ''visits'' just bad mini family dramas for father and his relatives to barb at each other under very thinly veiled insults?


    Wait...was that.... was that why I had to beat my cousins at the damn harpsichord???!!!


    I mean there were all my studies too. The horseback racing, the etiquette lessons, bits of alchemy, fencing, all sorts of things academic and extracurricular. But the harpsichord, oh not the harpsichord! I just hated that cats in heat trash piano! Philippe was always better than me at it because of course, he is. Noooooo one can play like Philippe. He just suits the yowling angry cat trash so well. Bleck!


    Father, you''re awful! So cruel! Making me into your petty little chest piece in your family squabbles! Evil! Pure evil! Of course, you''re a villain! A stupid harpsichord playing villain.


    "The term villain is a tad harsh, an inaccurate statement young miss Rosalia. For my Lord, perhaps a glass of water ?"


    Alfonso pours a glass from a fine pitcher, looking rather dashing in his new black suit jacket, complete with many subtle pockets. We''re getting closer to my ideal butler look and ...


    ...Hey wait Alfonso?! When did you get here?


    "I was always here, ready to serve my Lord and the young miss at the appropriate moment," he answers without missing a beat, wiping the wine, or is it blood, from my father''s mouth with a handkerchief.


    It appears father''s soul has left his body for the time being.


    How rude, playing dead during a very important question. I''m trying to dig up dirt here!


    I am a firm believer in ''nature AND nurture'' influencing a person, rather than or. Philippe is already such a fiendish bully, a show of poor character at such a young age. With father''s aversion to his birth family, the wealth they hold and the suspicious amount of influence they have in society, it''s just obvious.


    They''re obviously a villainous family! All that money and power can''t be honest! It''s blood money I suspect.


    The red hair dominant gene also does not help their case, I note with some regrets to my own head.


    "Why must my hair have to be a part of this ridiculous disquisition?" sighs father, just barely regaining his breath again as Alfonso pats his back soothingly and gently feeds him more water.


    .... Father you''re a grown man, must you be served hand and foot like this?


    Ahhh I really can''t stand rich people. Except myself of course.


    "Hmmm then allow me to reword that question into a new one father. What villainous actions and criminal activity is the main Bicchieri family line involved in, either past or present? Which ones were you involved in and what do you know about the illegal or morally wrong crimes now?"


    There is nothing for father to choke on but air yet he still manages to do so. Luckily Alfonso is by his side to ensure he is breathing properly and that his appearance is nice and neat.


    "There there my Lord."


    "My own daughter....my own daughter find that I''m a villain?!"


    "It is something all fathers must go through my Lord. They truely grow up so quickly."


    "A villain? How does she think that?"


    "The young miss is impressionable but observative. Your family lineage of blood- toned hair plays on the imagination of the young."


    "What does my hair have to do with this?!"


    I am still very much here but they are discussing it as if I''m not. That or as if I was a small child with little place in the conversation. How rude.


    Father shakes his head, in a way that looks like he has a migraine coming on.


    "That''s obvious, Philippe is awful and he has such terribly red hair. Carrot jokes aside, father you never have any contact with any of your relatives. At every possible juncture, you avoid them, hiding us away. They''re awfully wealthy and would make excellent business contacts, but you avoid them completely as though they were a sworn enemy rather than your paternal family. Even a child would notice something odd eventually."


    By that I mean or normal to dumb one. Not me, I don''t count.


    Father lets out another long sigh, "Well that''s my Rosa I suppose."


    "Of course, our young miss Rosalia is simply too bright. How wonderful."


    Thank you Alfonso, I am extremely bright...no wait. I''m a grown adult in young child''s body. This praise is misdirected and does not make me happy at all!


    "Father, I am asking because you cannot keep us isolated from them forever. Cousin Philippe has already started sinking his claws in the younger children taking lessons at the troops. As a Ventrella, it is my duty to stop him. Also he''s just awful!"


    "....I see you''ve met."


    "He''s just terrible father. I have to do something about his stupid little plots. We must watch out for him. Oh and he must never meet Lilyanne! Never! "


    At that, even Alfonso gives me an odd look.


    Just trust me ok? I can''t go around spouting out the future but just listen to my commands and everything will go just fine. Or at least much better than last time.


    "Well...Chippy. That''s certainly a lot going on in your little head. "


    Well that''s an understatement if I ever heard one but father is finally done choking and actually talking. I stay silent to let him continue.


    "Rosa....I can''t play along to your...fanciful theories. The things between my siblings and I are just that, petty and troublesome matters of adults. I wish it were simpler to explain, because then I would be able to say it outright. But it''s not....life often is not, and as smart and mature as my little girl is, you''re not ready yet to hear this particular tale."


    "...I see."


    Hmm let''s put that into the Rosalia translation filter.


    So what you''re essentially saying is there are some big dark secrets and that your side of the family is full of villains. Got it. Wonderful chat father. Thank you for confirming part of my theory, I''ll take what I can get.


    "Rosa...that''s not what I said...that''s....Alfonso did I hear my own child correctly?"


    Father looks so awfully confused that Alfonso has taken the courtesy to pour him more wine.


    "It appears the young miss has made her conclusions and taken your personal feelings into account. What wisdom from our young miss Rosalia."


    "My feelings?!"


    "Oh my Lord, I shall not bring up the ''villainous" past. For you are no longer that young master Frederick of such serpents but the Lord Ventrella now! Oh how they grow up so fast. My my my to be serving a hero''s family, life is surely a strange and wonderful thing in its unpredictability."


    "I give up. I give up to the both of you. Alfonso do pour me something stronger and retrieve this morning''s transportation report."


    "As you wish my Lord."


    Okay, there is no doubt in my mind that space bags exist besides my own and that Alfonso carries at least 1. Because there''s no way that giant bottle of liquor could fit in anyone''s pocket.


    "Before I retrieve your requested files, please enjoy another snack made fresh from the kitchens. It is a new favorite. "


    With a short clap of his hands, the office door opens and a serving tray is wheeled in by the senior staff. A chilled pan of something familiar yet lemon scented is cut into squares.


    "Torte di Riso? I thought we were out."


    "This a fresh batch young miss, further perfected with additional baking time and with lemon and citrus zests for a new aroma."


    "Hmm, very yummy yes, this is even better than before. Good job. But a new batch of torte means another failed batch of rice pudding. Alfonso, tell the kitchen staff to calm down! They don''t listen to me when they hyperfocus on new dishes and then it just gets tiring to eat all the repeat experiments. "


    They really do. That''s the trouble with chefs. Once they latch onto something, they stubbornly make the same things over and over again until they get it right. I understand the need for perfectionism but what a pain it is for the taste testers. Even if it''s gourmet levels of delicious, you feel like barfing after thirty or so times of the same dish.


    The lemon juice and zest were a nice touch though, good job my kitchens.


    "Of course young miss, a stern reminder is in order to waste not. With your tasting approval, a portion shall be sent to the Lady of the house for tea. But firstly, your reports my Lord."


    Alfonso smoothly unfurls a roll of lower quality gray paper over the desk, the gate logs I assume.


    While father munches on his second piece of baked rice pudding, he taps and circles at a certain time log written in code by the guards.


    "A quarter to the 10th morning hour, a custom carriage was sent and passed through Ventrella inner troop gates. Passengers included one young Phillippe Bicchieri, a destination to his family''s territory. As of this morning, he''s already in his way home." reads out father, turning the scroll over so I could see.


    "Well that''s relieving, but why? Why did he stay behind this winter and why now? It''s all too sudden. It can''t be good. Did he complete what he was aiming for?"


    I have so many little questions. I can''t play against the circles of nobility yet but surely I should be able to handle a kid as young and inexperienced as a primary school version of Phillipe. It would really hurt my pride if I couldn''t.


    "Rosebud my dear, I can''t say I know the wants and imaginations of my nephew to prompt him to stay, nor any ploys from my elder brother. What I can confirm is that my nephew left out of necessity. He was injured, and thus his parents were contacted. It was their requests to send for him immediately."


    "Phillippe was injured? He was just fine the other day? What happened?"


    "Well, my dear little mischief-maker. Why don''t you tell me?"


    "What? Father are you suspecting me?!"


    "Of course not Chippy, but reports and taken from the mouth of those involved. Phillipe claimed his injury occurred after meeting with your party. Thus so allow me to hear both sides of the claims."


    From his casual tone and the third rice cake tart, father finds the case to be of little to no issue at all. Still, I must defend my honor, I didn''t even do anything yet!


    "All I did was throw a soup pot of beans at him. He barged in insulting people and just being terrible after delivering a message. So I played dumb and cried. The pot was hardly warm still, he couldn''t have gotten hurt from that?"


    "Simple case then, it appears." Father chuckles and something tells me it isn''t that simple.


    "No Chip it wasn''t your beans. The boy tripped. Fell down an outhouse hole while attempting to clean up and was unable to get himself out for a day and a night. "


    "...an outhouse hole?"


    "Rather recently cleaned, very deep. No one found him till the next morning and by then he was taken quite ill understandably. "


    "....was there human waster in this outhouse hole per chance?"


    "A crude question by dear but I would assume so yes?"


    "Oh.....PFFFFFFT Ahahahahahhahahaha!!!!!"


    An outhouse! Little Philippe fell down an outhouse!!!! I can''t! I just can''t!!! It''s my turn to choke! Can''t breathe. Oh my little low capacity lungs. I die.


    I seem incapable of not laughing my lungs out for the time being. This is just too good!


    "Yes Rosa dear, it seems neither you, your Georgie nor your little gremlin playmates are to blame as Philippe so claimed.


    "He said it was my fault? He got bathed in bean soup and then fell down a poop well all on his own! Ahahahahaha!!!"


    "Well, not your fault specifically but yes....yes it certainly does seem that way. There are accounts and witnesses for all for you around the time Philippe had his....accident. No evidence of anything off nor of a foul prank. His parents have no one to pursue. I admit I thought better of the boy, he is still my nephew after all. To be falling down an isolated half frozen outhouse hole in the first place, then alone be trapped in one? If that''s his character then is there any reason to be wary of such a child?"


    Yes! I''m still busy laughing here but yes! Poop hole incident is great, ahahhaha, but he''s still very much a bully and just an overall threat. Oh this is so good! Why didn''t my cousin fall down any outhouses in the last life?! I would have never let him live it down!


    "Hehahahaha, father haha Alfonso, does anyone else happen to know about this?"


    "If I may report young miss, half of the troops still stationed in the garrison grounds heard this morning while the acting Lord and Lady Bicchieri are quite irate. The chances of these events spreading is rather high at this point."


    "Yes, it caused quite the stir this morning. You really wouldn''t happen to know anything further my dear Chip? Your group was the last to see young Philippe."


    Ah this is hilarious but I''m really not a criminal mastermind to set all this up. I wish I was though. Down the poop hole! Ahahaha how juvenile yet vicious! What a great turn of events! He suffers, we rid of his horrid little presence, and I didn''t have to lift anything more than a soup pot. What a good deal.


    Ah if only it can be this easy to deal with the stupid prince.


    How depressing, it''s almost time to make that troublesome treck to deal with him again.


    Before I could ask my father anything about our upcoming trip to the capital, the office doors shake with a series of rapid knocks.


    It''s Georgie boy!


    Is everything alright? He looks pink and out of breath, and I don''t mean from another face mask. Only with Alfonso''s permission may he be subjected to speak in this space, in front of my father.


    "Pardon me my Lord, I''d like to....consult with our young miss Rosalia. It''s nothing pressing, or of concern. Just something in the kitchens, regarding the Torte di Risos."


    Again? Why can''t my kitchens just give it a break?! What a luxurious place it is here for a cook to live and work in. Wasting time and supplies like that.


    "What did they do now?"


    "Rosa- I mean, dear young miss. Please come down for a tasting...some people would love your opinion...on what not to do."


    "I don''t understand? What do you mean, our chefs aren''t so awful to need me to make a list of what not to add or....why do I smell burnt bacon on you, Georgie?"


    "Torte di Risos my young miss. The previous suggestion of orange and lemon zest worked so well that they''re trying another...similar but not quite...source of inspiration. The other one...please "


    "Georgie... tell me they''re not adding bacon and lard into my sweet delicate torte. "


    "As you wish young miss Rosalia. I won''t tell you. Now please...do accompany me to grace us with your presence and thoughts downstairs. Please."


    "Father, thank you for your time and answers today. I must take my leave now!"


    Oh no, oh no no no I should have known. I should have known when more Torta di Riso started coming. The cakes come from rice pudding fails and rice pudding fails come from my staff trying too hard to please their favorite kidnapped taste tester. But having Amar around often means a tag along Lukas nowadays.


    Oh no, not Lukas, not the bacon. That has to last us the whole winter! Can no one stop him?!


    Of course, they can''t! Or should I say won''t, my staff are absolute weaklings when it comes to cuteness! Cuteness rules the world! What''s cuter than kindergarteners?! Oh no what horrible influences are those brats making on my chefs?


    Only I''m cute and powerful enough to override this!


    The matter of the stupid prince must be for another time then. It''s coming up but right now I have sweets to save!


    My growing henchmen are so terribly ungrateful. Here I am trying to solve their Philippe bullying problem and gather hilarious intel while they eat my food? And make weird bacon cakes?


    "You have no idea Rosalia! It''s insane, it''s too luxurious, it''s oddly good? Sugared bacon! They''re going crazy down there, people are forming factions!"


    "Put me on the cart! I don''t care if it''s the serving tray it''s much faster."


    Now onwards Georgie! Go go go!


    ---------


    ------


    ---


    The personal office of one Lord Ventrella has all at once finally become peaceful again, but a tad too quiet. There was something to be said about the presence that children brought into a room, especially those who were as bouncy and busy as the eldest young miss Rosalia.


    "Alfonso?"


    "Yes my Lord."


    "How much does she know? And who are the people that I need to make disappear?"


    The man is still young, his frame strong and his features vibrant. Yet whether he stands, paces or sits, the solemnity to his nature ages him by decades seemingly. He is a man in the middle of his prime with a weight broader than his own shoulders.


    To help with that weight, the butler by his side would do near almost anything. Just almost, if he wants to that is.


    What he wants right now if for his young lord to let go. Not entirely for then he is a hypocrite himself. But just a bit, enough to live.


    His Lord had surely built himself, them, a very warm and beautiful sort of life. It would be a shame not to enjoy it properly by hanging on to old cumbersome worries and bad habits.


    "Ahh, my wise and gracious young Lord. It is not as you fear, there are no leaks nor informants. The staff has been rigorously combed to ''our'' new standards rather than the previous informal system of human resources. There is not a soul to influence the young misses nor upset our Lady Maria. There is no one suspicious enough to take in or to interrogate."


    "Help me understand then. How is it that my three year old daughter is already playing with that sort of fire. Even as a child''s play fantasies, how does she ''know''? "


    "I do believe my lord, that children are no different than very small adults. However, they are more inquisitive and quickly pick up things from their surroundings. A bright yet sensible child like our Bubbles is even more so capable to finding out matters on her own. I do also believe, that it was you my Lord, who assigned her reading on those noble family trees and their records."


    "This is far beyond my expectations."


    "How wonderful then, that the child not only exceeds their frame but excels."


    The old servant grinds the ink for his master''s pen to dip and flow. Silvery red script marks the pages below in files previously unseen. Yet when the ink dries, nothing remains, as if it were just water.


    The real log details aren''t so easy to see.


    "Philippe''s accident was no accident. My brother and his son aren''t stupid to have this occur in the first place, let alone with so many eyes and ears around. It was a well-planned scheme designed to look like an accident. Rosalia... she seemed so genuinely surprised and gleeful. I don''t know if it''s my personal bias but I want to believe that I can still tell when she lies, that she''s not capable of so openly lying to and deceiving me."


    "Sir, I do believe you''re over worrying about your child. It is something all fathers do. We know her patterns. How she ''plays'' with her maids is an entirely different pattern and style. When she dislikes someone, this isn''t how she retaliates. This wasn''t our eldest young miss."


    The logs were written by other humans, and thus flawed. He only had the information reported to him and not the full truth.


    "Our networks are still in place? Stable.?"


    "Yes my Lord. Not a single cover is compromised. No report brings up enough to be concerned about."


    "...Run it again Alfonso. Keep it on rotation, not even our agents should suspect the double, no make it triple checks. I can''t afford to have a spy in my home and honored father-in law''s troops are very much now and forever, home."


    "As you command my Lord....perhaps, at least for the rest of the afternoon, you spend some time with the lady of the house?"


    "My darling wife spoils me, Alfonso. I''ll never get any work done, you know that."


    "My Lord, if I may be so bold...you have done more than an acceptable job in all your work. In the court of house, in the Ventrella business operations, the community building and engineering progress. The bridge finished last week, was truly a marvelous bridge. It will save many families and people. "


    The old man doesn''t mind how his master kept silent. He''s long learned to read the fiddling of pens, of how ears turn red at the start of a blush. It''s far from being easy to read, unlike the Lady of the house and her unconsciously loud thoughts. A habit that seemed to be inherited. But Alfonso is if anything a learned man, in the topic of his third young master. His only young master Frederick, now Lord Ventrella.


    Life is truly an odd and unpredictable thing. This old servant is both humbled and awed by it, by the miracle that was human potential.


    The old man simply grins with his tired old eyes. Then gets to work cleaning and updating the lastest logs in their specially made ink.


    Really now, the Bichierri boy''s case was nothing to really worry about. Just young children, their clumsiness and messy little pranks. Amusing yes but it was quite easy to see the truth when one was as old and used to silly youngsters as Alfonso was.


    But his Lord was never that good of a child, not that was he allowed to even be one. Really, it can''t be helped on some matters with this sort of helpless master.


    "Frederick, you have done more than anyone had expected from you. You have exceeded and excelled at more than you even thought you would. Your influence and your plans will be more than just a profit, and will be remembered as such. So my Lord...place a little more trust in yourself, spare a bit more kindness for yourself...if not for you then for this tired old man."


    "Alfonso, are you guilting me to take a rest again?"


    "Of course not my Lord. I am merely reminding you. Shall I remind you again how our Lady Maria gets upset when she perceives a lack of attention and affections on your part? Shall we have another episode before you learn your lesson there?"


    "A cheap and effective shot Alfonso old chap- using my divine and terrifying wife against me. "


    "A gentleman should not make a lady, especially his lady, cry. I believe I had taught you better than that....She''s good for you. Truly. The honorable Lord Ronald, Lady Maria...they have been so good. I am glad. I am blessed, that I can accompany you on these wonderfully happy chapters of your life."


    "Alright alright I understand, stop it with that already Alfonso- you''re making me feel ashamed even. I''m heading to spend time with my wife, no need to emotionally guilt me."


    "My Lord I would never, but yes please do go on and take the sweets with you. To not only the fair sex, it means far more for one''s beloved to bring them sweets and share their time together than mere servants or anyone else. Off with you now."


    "I am a grown man now Alfonso, you can''t just ''off with me''."


    The handsome young lord of the manor rolled his eyes, looking more his age finally, but did as he was told. Gathering up all the right things Alfonso told him would woo and appease his better half.


    "Off with you now my young master.....really now. They just grow up so fast."


    ------

 87 Bad Time

    Alfonso really has prepared everything to the point it''s concerning.


    Does our old butler ever have time to rest arranging all the little things for this family?


    He''s in so many places at once and when he''s not then he''s accompanying father with his business. I know I shouldn''t underestimate anyone, especially the elderly, but how the hell does he do everything? How much is father paying him? Would this mansion even be able to operate without him?


    Somehow I get the feeling the answer is no.


    An extra large wagon has been dispatched in addition to the regular schedule to send a portion of these ''bacon wings'' to the troops, since there''s no way my family can eat it all. Crazy cooking staff included.


    I practice thinking without speaking out loud on my ride, it''s a bad habit and I''m getting too relaxed with it.


    Of course, chewing helps keeps my mouth busy. I''m also careful not to stuff too many snacks into my mouth in case I make myself sick on the wagon.


    Since we just got a huge influx of meat, particularly the pork variety- it was incorporated into the snack basket. I''m sure my staff was busy all alright, busy grilling bbq. Such a luxury it is to be a Ventrella cook, so much fresh, technically frozen, meat in the middle of winter.


    It''s also a little creepy how the snacks are getting pretty customized. There are these crispy breadcrumb cheese balls, rolled with the sweet bits of our praline bacon disaster and some thyme like herbs.


    They''re absolutely delicious and suit my tastes and mouth size very well. That''s fine.


    However, there are some fatty thick cut pork chop sandwiches on very dark multi-grain bread, which Lukas is destroying with glee, thus distracting him from eating all the bacon pops. What strong teeth he has for a child. Wonder when they''ll fall out?


    In between bites we share some version of walnut nucato, a honey and spice boiled thing that''s then shaped and toasted. Ah makes me crave Chinese food, mmm honey walnut shrimp, so addicting. Maybe next time? Now that''s a dish I fear will cause a ruckus.


    Even without saying anything, it''s understood to save some for Amar. Not just because they''re using him as a tasting guinea pig, but also because he''s a rather small child. I do believe my chefs aren''t just so much abusing his poor overly sensitive nose as they are trying to fatten him up. Are they planning on baking him Hansel and Gretel style?


    From the snacks in here, isn''t it obvious what suits which kid more?


    These two boys are around my kitchens too much, either at home or at the troops. It''s to the point that everyone thinks we''re friends. Are we friends? Isn''t it weird to interact so much with kids when I''m mentally not one? I had younger friends before but isn''t there a too great power imbalance that detracts from forming sincere relationships?


    Eh who cares, I settle as I bite into a lighter and smaller sliced sandwich.


    "Ack this one is spicy!" snorts Lukas, definitely choking on it.


    "No it''s not. It''s just mustard."


    I take another bite, yep that''s mustard spread alright, and some lightly pickled cabbage. Some pickled onion? How luxurious on the amount of black pepper. It makes the heavy food refreshing and easy to eat, just a bit of a kick. Not bad.


    "That''s the part that hurts, ouch ouch ouch my nose. I''m not weird like you or Amar that like foods that hurt." he sticks his tongue out, breathing through his little mouth.


    Food that hurts, wow what an amazing description. Thank you Lukas. Ah yes, who can resist the classic taste of pain.


    Mustard is a different sensation but let''s raise Luka''s spice tolerance now that I''ve found chilis. I just need to get a steady supply of them. Spicy food isn''t popular here but it will be with me around.


    The little boy complains but yet he still eats the whole thing. Amazing.


    Lukas is an interesting character that he seems to be able to take a lot of things without even a blink. It concerns me because he is still very much a young child despite the fairy tale fantasy life he seems to live in. Let''s review those stats of his. Great strength, endurance, and rare ice magic? They''re all good traits for heroes in training but doesn''t he sound a little too OP in the making? AH but he does have a portion of Gable''s blood running through him.


    It''s quite easy to forget the fact that this big-mouthed boy is an illegitimate prince, born from the womb of an already married woman. The woman who was supposed to be my mother in law. What a mess.


    Of course, I haven''t forgotten, these are some pretty heavy details.


    It''s just not a lot I can do with that sort of information. It''s dangerous knowledge yes but what can I do with it, let alone right now as I am.


    Did Philippe know?


    Not the child he is right now but the cunning businessman he would come to be, did that man know the secret truth behind his henchman''s identity. I''m trying to imagine it, being in Philippe''s head, guessing what he would do or how he would think.


    No.


    At the time he shouldn''t have known because he failed to use Lukas at all.


    What do I remember about the future Lukas? What other clues are there?


    That pale boy in the future was just that, another mob who blended into the background. Easy to fade into the wall, or act as one.


    That person wasn''t Lukas, not as I know him.


    He was tall yes, strong, definitely yes, but nervous. Like a twitching dog, sick on something. Aways nervous about something, he could only relax with Philippe''s stern hand behind his back and whispers in his ear. He took orders, not like a well-trained soldier but a betting ring fighting dog.


    All brawn, no brains and reeking of some sense of desperation. It was pathetic, he was pathetic. Those were my impressions of the then barely grown Lukas.


    That Lukas never used his magic, not once. No ice.


    Now isn''t that something?


    It''s possible that Philippe was smart about it, hidden such an ability away. However, that''s not Philippe''s behavior. He would have shown off in some way, even subtle, he would have used it to advantage. The potential of having such a rare elemental mage is too much to pass up.


    Philippe couldn''t have known, and honestly I believe the Lukas of then didn''t know either. Just like me.


    Even though my ability is absolutely useless, it explains so much. Why magical artifacts just seemed to run into duds, why I had to keep spending money in order to achieve some effects. I was the drain, the void. We''re the same, we didn''t know what we had.


    More than that- I just can''t equate the child I see here into the man he will supposedly grow up into?


    Lukas is loud, he is simply attention grabbing and so full of energy that if it were magic he could power an electrical plant for a city. His eyes, while young and bright, are the same as Gable''s stormy blue-greys, barely considered a blond because he has feathery clouds for hair and maybe that''s where his head is too, up in the air. Despite his irritating traits, the boy could easily grow up to be handsome.


    More importantly, he doesn''t doubt himself in his actions. Sometimes I fear he doesn''t think much at all, relying on keen instinct more than anything.


    The original Lukas was an anxious grunt and looked the part. Strong jaw but broken jaw, tall and thick as a wall, with a head shaved like a golem foot soldier, and a crooked misshaped nose that I figure must have never healed right after a fight. Because the little boy in front of me has a perfectly Gable-ish one, tall and fine. Scars yes, there were numerous scars in addition to the permanently sunburnt skin all over his head and body.


    The grunt was a mighty tank of a warrior, and it showed.


    There''s no doubt in my mind they''re the same person but it''s disorienting and saddening to see now. With Philippe''s money surely he can afford a few more healing sessions and some better care for his henchmen.


    This is a vain thought but did he maybe disfigure Lukas on purpose? If a growing Lukas showed even 1/3 no even a mere 13% of the beauty that Gable possesses, then perhaps it might have been too much to Philippe to bear?


    Actually I wouldn''t put it past him.


    After all, no one is as handsome and charming as Philippe! Nooooooo one!


    Oh ho Ahahahaha!!! That sounded just like him in my head, ahhh I just need some flower petals in the background like he would have his entourage carry and throw around. Where did he keep all those flower petals? Did he have a henchman with floral abilities?


    It was really a pain to order my servants to sweep the train of petals every time he visited.


    Honestly, objectively speaking Philippe was an aristocratic sort of handsome. A different and admittedly more elegantly beautiful look compared to the stupid rock prince.


    Damn the prince charming with his stupid royal blue eyes and a stupid strong chin and stupid handsome blah blah blah bleck.


    Anything touched by the stupid prince turns stupid, so it doesn''t matter. Philippe did have a more refined and scholarly air around him. Like a fine cultured connoisseur of the arts.


    He would surround himself with many beautiful men and women around noble society yes but it was all to elevate his own image. Everything he did, every connection he made was carefully planned and benefitted him in some way. Likewise, when he schemed and sabotaged, it was always in a way that showed his best angle.


    Yeah, I really don''t like what Philippe did with Lukas at all.


    "Ow! Rosalia why are you pulling my face?!"


    "Thank your lucky stars, do you realize how much you resemble Gable? You have his eye color, you have his nose, maybe cheekbones? Yep definitely more cheekbones than the stupid prrrrr...yeah. It''s only these little things but you can''t waste any of it!"


    "What aAH my nose!!!!"


    "Yes it''s a very good nose, do not waste it!"


    "How do I waste a nose?!"


    "If it gets broken you get to a healer immediately! Call Gable or grampa or someone! Don''t let it be ruined again!"


    "I don''t get it but okay! "


    "Ouch! Lukas why are you pulling my nose?!"


    "You started it!"


    "Ow ow ow let go already! Ow not my cheeks!"


    "Eye for eye, nose for a nose says Cap!!!"


    "He did not say that! It''s eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth you dufus!"


    "Foot for a foot then! I''m an Adventer!!!"


    "Ow, ow what? Advent...avenger?"


    "Yeah that!"


    "Why are you like this?!"


    "Hahaha Gable yells that a lot too and I still don''t know what the right answer is but I get really strong from bacon and meat and butter and milk and bacon and ow!"


    This is how the gatekeepers saw us as we arrived on the wagon. Two small children pulling each other''s mochi cheeks to death.


    I should have taken baby sitter Georgie to supervise after all. It''s quite painful as Lukas doesn''t seem to know any basic manners. This is not how you treat a lady! This is a dirty brawl! Ow ow ow not my eye, don''t take the quote literally you little monster! Gable do something about him!


    "What... in a gorgon''s vertebrae are you two doing?" taps a teen boy, as dark and gloomy as this winter day.


    "Rosalia sneak pinched attacked me so I had to rattleattack back!" Lukas complains as we hop off the passenger wagon.


    A lot of people at the gates today. They must have sent a messenger bird about the incoming supply restock.


    "I did not! I was warning you for your own good and what is a rattleattack- oh never mind. Good afternoon Vincent! Are you on gate duty today? Your hair looks so much better but it''s still a little dry, ah but it can''t be helped in winter. Would you like to try out this new tester of mine? I call it conditioner."


    The listless looking teen may be considered a legal adult in this world, but the way he sits there at the processing desk, rolling his eyes, is very pubescent all right. Before Vincent would at least try to pander to me but after nearly a year of being his ''patron'', he''s come to be a typical employee. Slacky and relaxed after getting comfortable.


    ...Okay so maybe it was the live knife throwing practice that did it. It was Tamera''s idea! You''re young Vincent, exercise is important even if you are a full-time emo nerd.


    Ah, I''m just surrounded by younglings. If not for this toddler body I would say I feel so old. My soul is old so it counts, no matter what Gable or grampa may say.


    "Rosalia stop trying to lick everyone clean! Let''s go find Amar, I wanna give him bacon wings."


    "Lukas...do you even know what you''re saying half the time?"


    "Of course I do!"


    "Then please explain to me what LICKING people clean means?!"


    "Duh, cats and merlaps always are trying to lick themselves and other animals around them clean and you''re always rubbing soap and stuff and trying to get to get people to take baths and all. Geez I thought you were smart?"


    "Why am I a cat or a merlap!?"


    "Because you eat raw fish and I eat good stuff like meat so Amar says you''re the merlap I''m like a wolfpup which is super cool. Amar said so and he makes more sense than the adults! It does make sense because wolves are cool and I''m cool and you''re really hissy and grouchy like a merlap beast and-"


    By the power of bacon pop, I command you to shut up. Food basketball time, she readies at the line, she shoots, she scores! The crowd goes quiet, sweet peace and quiet.


    As an apology to my witness I slide the conditioner jar over to Vincent with the usual terms, let me know how it goes. Just because you''re a dark and gloomy soon to be future powerful necromancer to be doesn''t mean you can''t have lush lovely hair while raising the dead.


    "Sorry about that Vincent. Have a sandwich? Do you happen to know where Amar is today?"


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    Maybe it''s the conditioner, maybe it''s the cold delicious offer of snacks but the teen gives. Vincent shakes his head with a tired sigh, finally indulging me with a small but sincere smile as he points to the snack basket with his feathered pen.


    "It''s...sort of a bad time right now. I don''t think Amar can play with you little ones today. Maybe another time?"


    "Oh why is that?"


    "He, well he''s busy at this time-"


    But before Vincent can fully answer Lukas is already wailing.


    "Awww is he stuck in training with your gross master again? If you''re the one telling me that he''s busy then yes. Pooooop, he can''t eat bacon wings then! Or anything!"


    "Training? It''s so bad he can''t eat?"


    "Nooooooo after, when Amar goes with the dark creepy hood teacher that does potions and teaches Vincent and stuff he can''t eat after. The training is really super tough and it makes Amar all tired and sad and no fun to play with. "


    "...A potions instructor trains Amar?"


    "It''s like your kitchens! Sometimes they take Amar and makes him smell stuff and name it and who knows what and Amar calls it training but training is suppose to make you strong even if you''re tired and--"


    "Ssssh?!"


    Quicker than I expected from Vincent''s weak skinny frame, he''s grabbed Lukas and me into a dark and shady alcove. Which is probably like a nice and inviting corner to Vincent.


    It''s a hustle and bustle out there as some people load up the shipment frozen meat. With a quick look around to make sure we''re not noticed, the twiggy teen drags us further into a private corner. Tapping on a stone twice, he makes something flash like a bubble around us and just as quickly as it appears it disperses. Kneeling down with his hands gripping into our shoulders, he looks at Lukas in eye.


    "Lukas, whatever you heard from Amar you cannot repeat. Amar isn''t supposed to talk about it, at all. If it gets out then it''s him that will get into the most trouble."


    That....that just sounds suspicious.


    "I know it''s a secret training! He didn''t tell me or want to tell me so I just followed him a lot and a lot till he tricked me in the livestock trough that one time but I figured it out! If no one else knows then he won''t get in trouble so Rosa don''t go telling anyone else ok? I don''t want him to get in trouble because of me but it''s super secret training that sucks because he can''t come to play or eat with the rest of us at all sometimes for days and it''s stupid that no one notices or the adults say its okay but it''s not okay.."


    "....Vincent, what is Lukas is talking about?"


    The grips around us shake and collapse while Vincent stares at Luka''s blabbermouth with great fear, exasperation and a hint of curiosity. But it''s mostly just him getting paler by the second.


    "You really mustn''t speak like that. Ever! Do you understand Lukas?"


    "Okay! I won''t say a word about the really shitty secret training that makes Amar all sick and tired and miss out on normal training or playing. I really won''t because Amar says if I tell anyone then he''ll stop playing with me so I definitely won''t!"


    "....."


    "....."


    Vincent is looking increasingly mortified with some expected concern towards Lukas'' secret keeping skills. Normally I would be too, but right now I think the biggest subject of concern isn''t even here. This is not at all criminal sounding, oh no not at all.


    "It''s...it''s complicated. My master is a very private sort of person in his work. Extremely private, I can''t disobey him either. But please, you really can''t be talking like this, it will only make more work and trouble for both me and Amar. "


    "Lukas. I''ll give you all the bacon pops, now tell me everything you know."


    "But ....I think I said too much again....I talk too much. I forgot and I don''t want Amar to stop being my friend. I don''t wanna. Can we go find him now? Or can we give him bacon wings for later? Bacon wings are really good and strong and Ga-er my master says it''s good for growing and Amar always gets even skinnier when he goes on missions without me but Gable won''t let me go this time so we gotta get it to him now and-"


    "Lukas breathe! I promise that you''ll be fine and Amar won''t just stop playing with you but breathe when you talk."


    I don''t like the sound of this. I don''t like it at all. This is getting worse with every line of information. Has Lukas been keeping these concerns in him all this time? Rather he doesn''t realize the weight of them.


    "He''s losing weight on missions? When he''s actually away from... but how..."


    For some reason now it''s Vincent''s turn to be confused and concerned. I don''t know what to think, when it''s his ''master'' that seems to be the main lead in this case that sounds increasingly like a kind of child abuse.


    "Yeah it''s stupid! It didn''t happen in that big march north last year or with Rosa''s pizza or Gab-master''s food because I was with him but when I''m not it happens a lot before. So before he leaves I was gonna make him super fat and healthy and then he''ll be good to go! Geez I''m so awesome a friend."


    There''s something about the contrast between Lukas innocent feelings and what is the most concerning thing I''ve heard about Amar, head-smashing included. This is weird. It''s way too weird. It sounds long term.


    "Vincent.... you know more, a lot more right?" I can''t help but inquire.


    Of course he does, while my first recipient of funds has a competent business face, he doesn''t like interacting with many people and is nowhere near as practiced as people like my father. He practically screams insider information in his nervous body tics. But what is there to be nervous about?


    Vincent sighs again, blowing his practically emo dark hair out his face, and debating internally on how to word himself.


    "Just know that it is a type of training. I went through something similar. I know it doesn''t sound good in this field... it''s complicated and it really isn''t my place. The kid knows, Amar knows. I can say that much. "


    "Does this stupid training make you all boney!? Because I want Amar to be strong so we can go on lots of cool raids and trips together and you''re really weak and boney Vincent! I don''t like it."


    "No! It''s a different sort of skill set!"


    Vincent flicks of Lukas''s forehead. I get one too since I''m so distracted with my internal thoughts. Too much processing going on to properly dodge, but it doesn''t hurt.


    "Why is everyone attacking me today?! Rosalia, I like Tamera a lot more than Vincent so you''re smarter there but we can''t visit her today because she''s strong I really don''t wanna get hit by her and-"


    "If I ask my master to maybe see if Amar can take a break to see you, will you please for the love of death, quiet down. "


    "I- mff" *smack*


    "Why yes Vincent, if you could please. Thank you oh so very much."


    Like clogging a drain I stuff another sandwich into Lukas'' mouth. Very effective. It''s quite easy to interrogate Lukas yes but on the other hand, his opposite weapon of annoy only works to a certain extent.


    "I''m serious. You can''t speak out like that or let others misunderstand. Look I get it I really do, I deal with dead creepy things, it''s not exactly holy magic. I don''t mind what people say but my master is far worse about it even though he can''t do what I do. It really is complicated, thus all the secrecy, I also believe you know how competitive the professors are around each other. "


    Vincent''s words spill out as if they had been blocked by something in him, sentences piling up with some difficulty behind his teeth.


    That''s true. There''s some competitive rivalry among certain members of the troops but I assumed that was rather normal, for both students and scholars. There are rivalries all the time in schools or honestly any institutions. Why I can say I had my own share of rivalries with my cousin....ohhhhhhh.


    "I see, it''s that bad huh?"


    "Whatever you''re imagining Rosalia, it''s much worse. Much much worse. They''re so petty and awful, like children. No worse! Even worse than you, no offense of course."


    "None taken but...Vincent....you can tell us, you know?"


    I don''t miss the awkwardness in his speech, even more so than usual. While I can''t say we''re particularly close, we''ve known each other long enough for him to drop the pandering around me. He doesn''t doubt my intellect and I won''t judge or make his job any harder. I know how hard it is for a creepy necromancer to make it out in this easily terrorized world. Not the specifics but I can very well guess.


    I''m a villainess after all.


    But I guess that point is a mote, something is making his life much harder. He seems to be stuck between a rock and a hard place.


    "If there''s something wrong or you feel is wrong, you can tell me. I...won''t tell my grampa if that''s what you''re scared about or I can go straight to grampa if need be. Just...can you tell us? I don''t know what''s going on but I don''t think it''s just training." I continue.


    With a sigh, Vincent flicks both of us on the shoulder and normally we would react. But this isn''t the time for jokes. We''re honestly worried here.


    "It''s not my place to say, I have my duties....but for you two, I''ll try. I''ll go ask ok? Wait for me by the kitchens if I manage it?"


    "...ok."


    What else can we say to that? Even Lukas can only silently nod, however, there''s a furrow in his forehead as he shuts himself up with another sandwich.


    By the time Vincent walks us out of the corridor and back to the main courtyard, the sandwiches are gone and he can finally talk again.


    "I don''t like this," he chokes around the last bite, ready to rapid fire out his complaints as soon as Vincent was out of sight. "it''s stupid and we prolly won''t even get to see Amar because he''s always too tired after lessons with the hoody master."


    "... what exactly does Vincent''s master teach? And does he have a name?"


    "I think it''s like Dario or Darius or something poopy like that. I don''t know, I''m too small to take his classes and I don''t want to. Potions are boring and Gable has me studying enough!"


    "Too small? So he only teaches older kids? What''s he doing with Amar then?"


    "I told you, Amar''s gotta sniff herbs and all sorts of weird stuff for his chores. They split us up according to what we can do sometimes and they play this stupid game where they make him name all the stuff in something and it takes foreeeever."


    "How do you know this again?


    "Duuuuuh, by spying! I''m so cool and sneaky but I can''t get in. I tried and I did it so much that Amar just came out and told me then he told me not to go around Hoody''s area anymore because super secret training was dangerous so I said ok and-"


    Ah yes the powers of annoying and persistent, also very effective. I don''t think anyone can be immune to that given enough time.


    This should be the part where like a good healthy adult, I teach Lukas a lesson of respecting boundaries and personal space. But that is not a lesson for today!


    "You know where it is then? Let''s go! I don''t think our chances are very good from the way he sounded Vincent won''t catch us if we go around right?"


    "Finally! I knew you were cool enough to go with my plan."


    "What plan, you didn''t even say anything."


    "Nooooooo it''s my plan and I''m the hero and now you''re my super small sidekick for the job!"


    "...."


    "Let''s go save Amar from Hoody master! Then we can eat bacon wings!"


    You know what, sure. Whatever you want Lukas. Lead the way.


    Lukas is a true child alright, not arguing with that. I will just follow along. My hand-eye coordination is getting much better but I am still only a toddler, after all, short chubby limbs and no real way to mask or disguise myself. I''ll be relying on you slightly less short and chubby creature. Unlike me Lukas is actually ''strong'' and even worse, he has magic.


    Life is really unfair.


    It''s honestly really hard to keep up with the older boy but since our objective is stealth, and we''re in my grampa''s garrison camps, it''s not a full out run. Turn this corner, run over there, hide behind this wagon, play it cool when we''re spotted, all very normal children games. Sneaky dark alleys and baby parkour.


    "Lukas I am not jumping a roof gap this big, we can walk."


    "But it''s cooler!"


    "Down and around, now."


    "Awwwww boring!"


    "Sssshhhhhhhhh."


    "Oh yeah, I''ll be quiet now. Not a peep."


    "Sssssshhhhh!"


    There is some baby parkour I refuse to partake in. It''s one thing to climb and hop from here to there. Ninja roof jumping though? At my current level? That''s just asking for trouble. Nor is it very stealthy.


    Twist and turns we go, silently across empty courtyards and increasingly empty pathways that are steadily getting smaller and smaller.


    It''s winter right now so it''s understandable that people are more indoors and out of sight. However, it''s really obvious that we''re getting into a less popular area of the encampment. Soon there''s not a single soul around to bother sneaking part.


    The cloudy sky and gloomy seasonal weather are only making this place look increasingly dark and creepy with its stone architecture. Sturdy and more damage resistant, which is great in a place full of such violent disasters and people, but very cold and depressing.


    Even as the alleyways darken, I can make out a distinct and delicious smell growing stronger and stronger the further we go.


    I can feel my mouth salivating despite already having snacks earlier. It''s just this smell, it''s somewhat familiar. Like the echos of a dish, I loved from another world. Rather than following Lukas muscle memory, it feels as if we''re following the increasingly potent scent.


    Cinnamon. Cardamon. Cumin. Onion. Garlic. Fennel. Fragrant bone stock. Black pepper. Basil.


    A mixture of rich and subtle things I can''t accurately identify. Not with so many wonderful things.


    No matter. My foodie senses are tingling, energizing my body to move even faster.


    "There! That one." points out Lukas in his loud whisper.


    Lukas lead us straight to the source of the wonderful smell. The building is simple, all dark stone blocks in a pretty much rectangular shape.


    A smaller second floor and third flood sits on top of it, which would make a decent vantage point over this part of the garrison. In comparison with some of the other warmer mixed buildings, this feels sterile and concrete. No decorations, nothing to making it welcoming to people, as professional as an industrial lab.


    "There was an area like this in the troops?"


    I can''t seem to stop my brain to mouth process in the awe.


    "Yeah it''s all boring and stuff. No one but boring teachers come here, it''s not even where they make the potions. There''s a lot of them, the adults call them rew and search but this one is super boring and no one likes it." Lukas explains more than I ask for easily.


    "Research? It''s a research department."


    "Yeah that."


    "Wouldn''t they need some better security, I see no gates or anything."


    "Why? No one ever comes here." Lukas waves his arms around, highlighting the desolated area.


    Truly an industrial complex corner. A place I had never known about let alone set foot in. It looks like I''ll need to do a lot more exploring locally. How many gaps and things did the previous Rosalia miss in her villainous princess garden? My god, I''m really no better than Lilyanne.


    We circle about the iron bar windows, seeing no one through the peeks and cracks. It feels as empty as the alley.


    "I smell food but I can''t see or hear anyone! But it smells like Amar in there! But I don''t see him, is that just the food?" wonders Lukas.


    "Did they leave? Did Vincent actually follow through...."


    I want to trust Vincent, not just because he''s my investment and researcher but he''s not all so bad. He''s not like Tamera or anything but it''s different, people are all different. I don''t know. The line between employer and employee needs to be clearer but that''s a little hard to define when I''m this small and adorable.


    Lukas jumps around a bit, looking both agitated and excited.


    "I don''t know! But I never went in before, someone always stopped me. Let''s go!"


    Oh yes, sure let''s walk right into the, not at all creepy, research lab. The horror movies didn''t warn about this at all.


    "Greaaaaat idea Lukas." I can feel my eyes rolling. "But how oh how will we ever get in, it''s not like we can just walk right up to the probably locked front door and....oh."


    "Oh what Rosa? What is it? Did you figure out a way in!? WHoopee I knew you could figure it out!"


    "...Sssshhh, watch this."


    It''s a little tricky I admit, I am no super spy. However, I know enough to roundabout looking for a back door, which is usually much easier to break into than the front. It''s just common sense.


    That and from working years in a modern bar, I would know.


    The doorway is narrow and creaky, looking weak and easily breakable compared to the front.


    I definitely feel something, like walking into a barely there spider web. Unlike with Gable''s place, I can see something, an almost transparent web. It feels like I could so easily tear a hole through it, just enough for me and Lukas to fit through.


    But I have a better idea.


    It''s a little silly, a little childish, but I want to take the whole thing apart. Starting from the bottom, I rip and pull the whole thing apart. It really is like cleaning cobwebs. Easy to tug and utterly crumple into nothing.


    "What am I watching?"


    "Ssshhhh."


    To Lukas or anyone else, it must look like I''m playing with air, but there''s something magical here and I don''t want to set off any traps or alarms.


    The door gives way easily, without me doing anything but give a gentle push. Now that gets my little companion to quiet down immediately, though his jaw does hang open. Without speaking a word I give a triumphant little huff, the passage clear.


    Let''s go.


    Contrary to the outside, it''s a lot messier in here. The interior darker wood beams and hanging herbs and specimens all around. Rather than being cool and witchy looking like Gable''s place it just feels like a whirlwind of a mess. The only thing I can say is that there are a lot more jars and pots with some murky hard to decipher inscriptions.


    I could probably stay a day in this room and not be able to get through all the little things that litter it, so let''s not waste time.


    Besides, the smell is far more enticing and it''s getting closer.


    Unlike before, Lukas has adopted a very careful manner, stepping ahead of me again. Not sensing anymore web-like magic-related locks or barriers I graciously allow it. We take every step with caution, regarding our surroundings for anything that may be dangerous. It really is silent and empty in here, no signs of anyone at all.


    It only takes us one room, before we find the source of the smell.


    The counters are full and cramped with even more items, mainly dark clay pots and the occasional smokey yellow glass bottle.


    A very tall stool is pushed aside as if whoever was sitting there had to hop down.


    The bulky wooden table where the stool rests against stands out, completely clear of anything but a small lead looking pot and a single half-full wooden plate and spoon.


    It looks partially eaten, this ominous-looking brown sludge over dry rice. It looks gross, I know, but it smells like heaven.


    It smells like curry.


    Ah ha! I knew it!


    "He was holding out on us. Again!" I growl.


    Curses Amar! That brat is always managing to hide sweets and snacks! I''m not surprised at all that he''s been playing with this substance of the gods away from our maybe greedy eyes.


    We just like delicious things okay?


    More than that I''m surprised that the concept of the dish ''curry'' exists here in this world. Well, that shows ignorant little ol me. I really can''t rely too much on my previous self''s biased memories.


    I absolutely love curry rice! The modern soul in me is crying from the lack of a lot of beloved dishes but especially curry rice. It''s many a child''s favorite dish where I''m from. It''s made even worse now that I am a child again.


    "What?! Again?! It smells so good," drools Lukas.


    "Amar was definitely here, the chair is that tall and every other kid went home. And these spices?! It had to be him."


    "Smells like him yep. Imma eat it all."


    "No wait, save me some!"


    It''s a little pathetic but hey we''re kids. Also, Amar needs a little bit of punishment. Some more revenge. I swear that kid gets away with too much.


    Instead of fighting with bacon boy over the first bites, I climb on top of the table to slide the heavy pot of still warm curry right into my baggie. No mess by the powers of unexplainable magic.


    "It''s really good! I never had anything like it! Ever!" Lukas exclaims, vibrating in his seat on the stool.


    Well, of course, you haven''t child, even I the young miss of the Ventrellas never got to enjoy anything like curry in all 17 years of my life. What a sad existence.


    This isn''t my beloved curry rice. The rice is too long and dry, the curry itself smells foreign and consists of many unrecognizable ingredients. I would say it resembles more of the classic Indian curry house offerings than my own standards. This isn''t my box rouz or a cute cafe, or even a comforting homemade pot of my favorite curry. There''s also no egg on top.


    Yet it is still curry rice! Hallelujah!


    I didn''t know how long it would take for me to gather enough ingredients and be able to experiment making my beloved curry but here it is! So good it smells so good~


    The first bite from the stolen spoon makes me feel like I''ve been shot point-blank with overwhelming deliciousness. A spiced sucker punch right where it hurts! The tender meat, the melting of flavors over the starchy veggies and how well the rice absorbs it all is absolutely indescribable. Hallelujah, this is the taste of curry!


    Of course, my tastebuds are pretty young and sensitive because there''s an unfortunate bitter aftertaste. I also note the metallic taste that may be due to the pot, bleck. There''s a lot to improve here but really not bad at all.


    It''s the second bite where I get hit for real.


    "SPIT IT OUT!!!"


    Hands around my throat, holding me down as the plate flings and splatter across the room to the wall. Before I can register a thing, or even the childish fingers, still bigger than my own, stuffed in my mouth, my gag reflex works immediately. A strong press into my little chest further forcing me to wretch up more than just the curry.


    It hurts so much I see stars.


    Lukas can do nothing against the sudden attacker, not just because it''s Amar but because he too is getting the same treatment. Amar has him pulled and knocked over on the table, forcing him to vomit in every brute way possible.


    "Spit it out! You have to spit it out!"


    The pain has me heaving and the disgusting scent of bile and the intermingled contents of my stomach fills the cramped room. When I can do little more than dry heave, when I can begin to regain a bit of my breath, I''m knocked and threatened with a hand to my little throat again.


    Amar looks so hurried, so desperate. His eyes such a shock of deadly green that it brings me back to that day nearly a year ago. Has it really been that long, that short? I don''t know.


    I don''t fight it as he pours some yellow-tinted water down into my mouth.


    "Drink it! Drink and spit it all out."


    Lukas can barely get out the start of a question before he''s attacked again, more sickness being wrecked out of his small frame before the water drowns him.


    "Again, drink it again. Again! You have to. Please please please just drink it and get it out! Again!"


    The sickness spills again and it''s a wet putrid mess. It all happens so fast that I''m still in shock. I can''t even comprehend anything more than that Amar is crying.


    This is the first time I''ve seen him with this many expressions on his face, let alone crying. Truly sobbing with fat wet globs of tears. It makes me suddenly realize how little emotions he shows overall.


    He looks as hysterical as a child that small can look, intense fear and panic over a heartwrenching breakdown. He''s a mess. Lukas and I are the ones getting punched and gutted with our own vomit but he''s the one who looks to be in the most horrible pain.


    I want to breathe, after all this vomiting I want to catch my breath but I can''t. I can''t even dry heave. It''s as if all of a sudden I''ve become paralyzed, numb.


    "No no no, no" he sobs, wet hands pressing on my chest. I can see it but I can''t feel it, as he tries to get me to breathe again.


    I can''t feel anything. I can''t move. Panic doesn''t even have time to rise up in me, for I have become frozen to it all.


    The taste of bitter bile and hints of blood still persists through my mouth. It makes me want to gag but I can''t, I honestly can''t.


    A short distance away from me I see Lukas, still sick and regurgitating. I see it in perfect stillness as he shakily downs the water, repeating the process again as Amar instructed. But his frame shakes as if he has a bad chill, and there''s frothing at his mouth increasing as he weakens. It couldn''t have been more than a minute but the seconds stretch on so long. Soon it''s red that he spits up. It looks like blood.


    Blood, I can taste more blood in my mouth, spilling up from me.


    "Spit it out, that''s it Rosa. Just spit it out. Spit it out and breathe!"


    I feel like a rag doll, with limbs of heavy grains of sand. A shaky hug or a Heimlich maneuver, then more blood is squeezed out from me. It''s disgusting. I must be disgusting but Amar only breathes when I finally do. It''s a delirious relief as I spit bright blood all over him and the boy painfully smiles with his eyes.


    It''s the most sincere smile I''ve ever seen from him.


    The relief is short-lived as the drowning torture repeats itself and he''s back on Lukas, forcing the other boy''s guts to upheave.


    I still can''t move. Lukas can''t stop vomiting. Amar can''t stop crying even as his hands, his entire body frantically moves to save us.


    Has he always been so skinny? I don''t notice it when it''s just us but his arms look like mere sticks pressing on Lukas, and his frame is so small.


    It hurts.


    Not just where I was punched and beat in the gut, nor in my acid burning airways. It hurts so much, like a sickness spreading. Everything burns with increasing intensity and I can''t help but feel as if every labored breath sends an angry swarm of fire ants through me.


    All I can register is fear, pain and the metallic taste of blood.


    "Drink it. Please. I''m sorry, I''m sorry. You can''t...you have to drink it. You have to. " a broken whimper calls to me.


    The blood in my mouth is no longer just mine, for it''s much warmer and oddly sweet. When did Amar get back to me? Why is his wrist cut and bleeding? Both of them?...Ah one for me and one for Lukas. How dramatic.


    More than that, why does he look to be in so much more pain? We''re the ones the fucked up and got poisoned or something right? Why does it look like this bleeding boy is the one who''s actually dying?


    It really hurts.


    I can feel myself fading, even as warm flesh pressed against my mouth and fresh blood runs down my throat. It should be disgusting but it can''t be helped, I can''t even move a finger. It takes everything I can will from myself to swallow it down.


    My senses go one by one but before they go my mind registers Vincent''s frantic screaming and the solid steps of an adult man calmly sliding into the room. He really does wear a hood, so much I can''t make out a single feature aside from cold thin lips.


    They move and sound comes out.


    "Well now. I suppose you''ve finally learned your lesson about finishing your food. Am I right boy?"


    The small grip on me tightens and sleep wins.


    ------

 97 Dark tunnel de doom

    So maybe running into the dark unknown and crying my eyes out in grossness wasn''t the smartest idea. Especially on little chubby toddler legs. But what''s done is done!


    I do wish I had shoes though. My socks are wet and that just feels disgusting. Actually, I wish I was dressed in anything more substantial than my nighties. The butt is also wet due to slip and slide in the frozen dark.


    That''s it, I''m sleeping with my baggie from now on. No more exceptions.


    It''s just too risky being me. Being plucked off somewhere without it is too possible in this family. As a magically magicless villainess, I need all the advantages that this has provided me. Everything I can squeeze out of father and grampa! Who are also apparently my biggest risks in the getting awkwardly placed somewhere I''m not supposed to be department?


    With the magic baggie I could at least pull out something that could light the way. Or a jacket.


    The path has honestly gotten to the point that I can''t see a thing. Nothing more than a few inches in front of me. This is quite bad. Anything could be down here?


    I''m not particularly afraid of the dark but...even this is too much. Long dark tunnels underground, with nothing but cold winter stone and darkness. Rather than a movie isn''t it too much like a scary game or a maze of horror? Something just waiting to pop out at you?


    I''m no good at such things!!!


    I can''t do it. I can''t do scary mazes alone! I always went with others! This is just too scary. I know my parent''s grossness is an entirely different set of horrifying but it''s not ghosts or monster or creepy crawlies in the night. I don''t think I can get back or retrace my steps either. It''s too dark down here and I''ve bumped into too many walls.


    My breathing sounds so loud down here.


    There should be nothing down here, right? Nothing living below my own house. But then again I didn''t even know about the cool secret room or that this path even existed. My memories are unreliable in the sheer amount of gaps they held.


    This treacherous brain of mine right now is overflowing with the wrong sort of memories.


    I can feel my little knees trembling as my brain flashbacks to everything I have ever seen or heard in media. Everything. Unlike this world, entertainment and realism are too good where I''m from. All hail SFX.


    Surround sound movies, award-winning games, terrifyingly designed interactive mazes, and even actual haunted houses. There are too many very convincingly scary things to remember at this very wrong time.


    Even though at the source I have no one to blame but my own brain, I am cursing with all my might the evil individuals in that world that exposed me such ''fun'' horrors in the first place. Especially their youngest, Jung-Joon.


    Curse them all.


    "Aww come on Mengy, it will be fun. I''ll protect you, just hold on to me when it''s scary." a youthful teen cried, looking innocent with wide sparkling eyes.


    His sweet face and playful energy contrasting with the environment of the maze of terror. It was only the waiting area outside, the lines of people could still be visible from this point. As a professional and well-ranked company though, even the parking lot was scary.


    The scenes were decorated so that people could take pictures or get in a pre-game scary mood while waiting in line. Actors lurked and prowled, creeping along to scare and rile up the crowd. A mixture of fun, nervous, and even some sadistic laughter rang with every jump scare among all these strangers, the music haunting in the night air, setting the ambiance.


    "You bastard, the whole time will be scary! I''m already scared!"


    "Oh? We should fix that then."


    Instead of getting the hell out, the teen spread out his arms and jacket over the nervous shorter girl, capturing her to a night of doom.


    "Be good Mengmeng~ I got you. Here here you can hide in my jacket."


    "No no no I give! I call uncle! Bossman! Bossman, I''ll take those extra shifts, I''ll work an extra 3 weekends. Don''t make me do this!"


    Just as the petite young woman was about to make a squirming break for it from the surprisingly strong arms of the youth, a tall looming figure descended on them. Its eyes glinted from the ominous lighting reflecting on metal frame glasses, with a shadowy slender hand it reached out, grasping its claws on the stiff girl.


    "Give it up. We have already paid."


    "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!" she screeched, jumping a few inches into the air


    "Jung-soo, don''t scare her like that." whined the teen. Despite his stern words though, he shared a sparkling wink and a thumbs up with his brother. The older boy played cool, pushing up his glasses with a subtle thumbs up returned.


    There were no witnesses for the frightened girl was burrowed deep into the younger''s shirt, hiding in his arms. Something he took with delight, easily wrapping them around her, like a protective cage.


    "There there Mengy, that''s right, hide right into me. I''m not so mean as to scare you for no reason. Remember you should just call out for me at all times. But hyung, where''s eldest bro?"


    While the girl was cursing these brothers in her heart, an ear piercing scream rung through the air.


    "I GIVE! I''LL DO ANYTHING! Cept like give all you my good shoes or swag or something BUT I''LL DO ANYTHING! EVEN DISH DUTY!" screamed and shouted an approaching voice, it sounded like a person getting dragged.


    "Jung-Joon, come get your annoying friend. He''s heavy." a slightly pudgy man shouted, sounding exasperated.


    "Hyung I''m very busy right now." Jung-Joon indicated, hugging the older but smaller girl even tighter. With a little maneuvering, he lifted her while still in his hold and tried to walk off, away from the crime scene.


    "Meeeeeng!" cried the dragged sob on the ground.


    "Niiiiiilllllleeeees" the girl cried back for her only sane companion, muffled underneath the monster''s jacket. A young monster with a nice and cute face, luring you into an unbelievable false of security before torturing you in the cruelest ways possible.


    Say a night out at a haunted puzzle house.


    "Jung-Joon take Meng out your shirt. Jung-hyuk just pull Niles up. If we''re doing this maze, we''re doing it right. No hiding away. No closing your eyes the whole time. We''re getting our money''s worth and finishing it all in one go." glinted the middle brother, the most reasonable and possibly the most sadistic one here.


    "Awwww, but Meng is scared and I promised I would hold her the whole time she was. Can''t break a promise to girl you know, it''s very rude."


    "Put me down you fake ass brat!!!"


    "Ah Meng, don''t scratch me in there ahaha it tickles." laughing but obviously reluctant, he loosens his grip to set the squirming girl down.


    Once free, she made a break for it.


    "Niles go go go we can still ru-Eeeeeep!"


    Or well she tried. It was three against one, number four already half on the floor in defeat.


    "Give it up, you two lost the bet so you must enter THE MAZE!!!! Ahahaha" boisterously laughed the eldest, not looking at all like the boss that he was to his two poor young employees.


    This was not part of the contract at all.


    All of his older and more experienced workers, friends and colleagues had known to steer clear of the Park siblings haunted horror runs. Even if Meng knew about her boss'' tendencies, it was too late for her, for some unfortunate reasons. The brothers felt glad, luckily they had managed to secure these two saps last minute when their sisters canceled on them. One for school and the other for... a date. Shame. They needed a certain amount of people to enter this level maze and tonight was the grand opening of the new expansion.


    While all the Park brothers were sure to enjoy themselves this night, it was Jung-Joon that was having the most fun, given the victims roped into it.


    "Dude I beg of you, I will pay for all the popcorn munchies the next 5, no 10! 10 movie nights! I''ll give you my extra sneakerhead con passes. I will WORK for both your bro and mom for free the rest the month! Don''t make me do this?!" screams victim one.


    "Jung-joooooooooon, don''t do this to meeeeee. I''ll fucking call you oppa or some shit. I''ll do it with diabetes anime girl voice and everything. Don''t make me go in? Please, pretty please. I''ll cry, I''ll so cry and piss myself in that maze. Do you want to do that to me, huh?! You seriously going to do that to me?" cries victim two.


    Despite the pleading, Jung-Joon only continued to smile brightly.


    "Sorry Niles, it''s not up to just me and that''s the way life goes. Ahh but if it''s from Meng, I will accept anything and everything about you. Even if you piss yourself while screaming ''oppa'' at me, I''ll be looking forward to it~"


    That got a 3-second awkward silence, not that Jung-Joon felt any of it as the others struggled to process and explode.


    "....Dude you nasty. That''s not even like sexy nasty, that''s just nasty! Like I know you been thirstin for Mengy but what? Lord Jesus and Christ, what?"


    "....Jung-Joon that''s just gross. Niles, I''m gonna pretend I didn''t hear that because I''m busy judging Jung-Joon. "


    "Like heeeeelllll gross, judge away! Brah, my dude, J to the J, we gotta talk about kinks and that stuff you say in public because that''s just-HOLY COWSHIT AHHHH!!!"


    Mid-grimacing and honestly quite distracted by Jung-Joon in the front, the back of Meng and Niles shirts were suddenly caught and gripped. The victims were truly captured. Jung-Soo dragging them along despite the two''s great height difference. He gestured for his brothers to follow and support, preventing any more running incidents.


    "Awww I wanted to carry Meng over the threshold." complained the younger brother.


    "You- stop being so gross! Ah what''s wrong with kids these days." snapped back the eldest.


    "But hyung, you watch even weirder ''gross'' shit with eomma in your bad dramas."


    "Shut up! That''s entirely different and they are cinematic art pieces. I''m missing the special two-part episode of "Beloved Blooming Peony Over the Forbidden Walls" for this!"


    "Hmm, isn''t eomma recording it anyway?"


    "Ah that''s right, records. Come on, let''s get a picture of these two chickens. Before and after." recalled Jung-Soo, scouting out a scenic spot for a group photo.


    They waved down an actor without too many claws to take a few pictures, the two unrelated victims crying and cursing the whole time, both internally and externally.


    "Meng, I can''t trust any of those three, Mengy save me!" whispered the half frozen teen behind those brothers'' backs.


    "Shit Niles, you''re a big boy, all 6ft and like 200 pounds. How the hell am I gonna save you? By being sacrificed? "


    "I''m a baby boi! Shit Mengy you know how the movies go. It''s always the black guy that dies first!"


    "What about the tiny Asian girl huh?! I''m not even in the movie!"


    "Yeah, cause'' you busy staying alive or some shit."


    "Not in the Korean horror movies! I suffer the most! Oh shit, they''re coming back."


    "Aww shit, tell my aunt I love her. Tell her the Parks finally ended me."


    "You do that yourself Niles, then give me a nice funeral because I''ll be dead. The haunted house gonna kill me and I''ll be dead, then I''m going to haunt all the damn Parks and Jung-Joon till they dead and- ack!"


    Warm arms wrapped around both their backs, causing both complaining parties to freeze in contradiction. Jung-Joon lightly ushered them with his own body into the entrance of doom. All with a pleasant cheerful smile. The boss and manager right behind them in an intimidating back cage, no room for escape. Jung-Joon''s head leaned menacingly in between them, tilted over to Meng''s side, pushing close and bending to knock their faces together. She could feel more than see his lips, how his grin grew even wider and more dazzling from their heavily radiating fear.


    Fear that made her skin tingle and rush from where his lips brushed on her.


    "Aww Mengy, you''d come back for me? I''m too touched. I don''t want to be without you either so...I guess we just have to die together then, hmm?"


    Screams echoed all through that night.


    Much like right now.


    AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!


    Scary scary scary thoughts go away!!! This is a very bad time to remember anything. None of that nonsense. I''m in a real life maze right here, right now. No convincingly good actors, no really impressive technology, nothing from that world at all.


    I''m alone now.


    There''s no one to smack away the unreasonable fear or to lead me out of the maze. No one to hide behind, even if there''s a bad round of sadistic teasing involved. There''s not even another soul to be scared and run away with.


    I can''t blame anyone on my own reactions, I know that. I can''t rely on anyone but myself as Rosalia. It''s just....gets hard sometimes.


    Being reborn in another world does that to you?


    In my nightmarish trip down memory lane, I''ve inched along the cold walls in the dark tunnel until I''ve reached a curve. A curve that leads into an open circular space, with peeks of light through the tunnels and cracks.


    Three different paths are before me.


    There''s a chance that if I stay here, eventually my gross parents will find me and rescue me from the dark. However that 1. means them getting off each other long enough to realize I''ve disappeared from the room and go looking for me, thus surely getting trapped again. 2. Staying here. For longer.


    How about no and no?


    So, down one of these dark damp creepy paths, it is. I try very hard not to imagine or remember anything unnecessary. Not even the scary story university podcasts Jung-Joon liked putting on in the car. Those are bad. Those have too many settings about equally dark and lost tunnels.


    Let''s examine the here and now instead. Which of these unknown tunnels do I make my merry way down?


    Despite the darkness, there are differences.


    One drips with the sound of water, reminding me of a sewer.


    One is silent, too silent. Its darkness stretches more ominously than the others, a longer path I assume. What is concealed in there, I do not fully know. We have a dungeon so maybe that? Mother had to come from somewhere?


    One is colder than cold, a chill of an icy draft flowing down with a mixed scent diffused in the air.


    My empty stomach growls and I immediately choose the cold one. Of course, the one underground area that I am quite familiar with is our food storage! It''s in that labyrinth of pseudo freezers and cold rooms that I keep my fermenting pickle experiments in. If I make my way down there, then I''ll find my way out even in the dark. It''s just the path of the kitchen''s courtyard.


    Genius! The power of food saves the day once again.


    Ah but I still have to walk all the way there. Please keep moving legs, don''t fail me now. Slow and steady, progress is being made. Distance is being covered. I keep walking because that''s all I can really do. Steadily I become aware of passing actual rooms in this hall, wooden doors that should be there.


    Maybe once in a while, I have to stop to massage these little legs. They really are frozen stiff, not just from the cold.


    It''s all in my head. The anxiety built up from fear of the monsters than anything really there. Absolutely nothing to be scared of in my own fridge and pickling rooms. Nothing at all.


    *bump crash*


    A sound of something falling echoes in one of the rooms, causing me to jump and drop to the floor in shock. My heart barely has enough time to restart itself when the sound of a horrible giggle follows that echo. It sounds childishly demonic, a horror movie creepy kid lurking in the background.


    Obviously a child once tragically died down here and now haunts the halls thus I should promptly get the hell out.


    Except no such thing exists!


    The giggling grows louder before being silenced by another''s ''Ssssssssssshhhh'' sound. Who is down here? My own staff? Someone''s kid?


    I get mad at my own pathetic reaction. It''s familiar-ish grounds once again and the fact that there are other people sobers me up from fear quite well. I follow the sounds to the room where it sourced from. The door to the room already creaked open, not fully closed from the last entry. The pungent smell of fermentation wafting in the air.


    Walking in the room are the solid shadows of rows and rows of shelves and their not yet ready products. Definitely not my pickles, this stench is far too strong.


    In the corner, an unnatural light glows, casting creepy shadows all around. The giggling can''t be contained. A shadow writhes and struggles, growing a monstrous height on the wall. Defenseless, I creep up, taking only a nearby wooden lid to cover me. My breathing short and terribly difficult in midst of all this awful stinky-


    "CHEEWSIES!!!"


    "Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"


    "Rosa!!!"


    "Lily!??"


    "SSSSHHHHH!!! Oh hi Rosalia! Are you playing too?!! Cool!"


    I throw the lid to smack against the edge of the cheese wheel fort, nearly catching Lukas in the nose had he not ducked. My vision perfect from all the little jars of glowing magic moss Lukas has lit up around here. From atop the hazardous fort, my monstrous littler sister claps, and giggles. The baby queen of the....cheese castle.


    She struggles and tumbles, knocking down broken bits of cheese as she rolls off towards me, giggling and bouncing the whole way.


    "Rosa Rosa! Liwli miss Rosa!"


    As adorable as Lilyanne normally is, I must decline this hug with a block from another wooden lid, used to weigh and press the cheese wheels into shape. For one, she''s.....messy, both her tiny toddler paws sticky and stuck with yellowish-white gunk.


    "Yes Lilyanne, big sister misses you too. Now, how about we calm down and tell big sis aaalllllll about why you two are even down here?!"


    "Rosa pway?" peeks my sweet stubborn sister, hugging at the wooden shield I placed in between us.


    Lukas snickers obnoxiously until I turn my head to accusingly glare at him.


    "And what are we plaaaaaying...DOWN HERE??"


    "Hide and seek!" answers the snowy child, not at all disturbed by the unorthodox scenery.


    We''re in the cheese room of all things. The stinky moldy cheese room. I take a deep breath, stench and all. Fear is gone now, that''s the magic of other people to distract you. Especially when they make no sense.


    "Ok, fine. You''re playing hide and seek. Now why is Lilyanne here?!"


    "She''s playing too!"


    "Rosa! Lookie hidy!"


    "I thought she was just a cry a lot baby because she cried so much when she saw us. She''s a lot like you when crying but not as mad or red all the time. I wanted to just go but Amar said it would be fun to take her too and I was ''that''s dumb but if you want to'' so we did and she stopped crying. Amar has good ideas!! Then he said we should play hide and seek because your house is so big so that''s fun and we did. I had to think really hard where''s the best place to hide and Lily said cheese and I was ooooh yeah the cheese room I saw it once when Gable and I brought bacon wings! We get to eat cheese and Amar will never find us down here! It smells weird, yeah but it smells extra bad for Amar. He''ll never think of coming here! Safe!"


    "Safe!~ Liwli lwike pway. Cheewsie an pway!"


    "....You guys..left the sickbay...all by yourselves....to play hide and seek? Then kidnapped my sister into the cheese room?"


    "Nooooooo we left because you left and that means we could go too because it''s boring up in there! We opened the balcony and everything after your dad left. Or well Amar opened it and went out. When I was less sleepy I went to look for him too but there was nothing there so we decided to explore more. We didn''t kidnap your baby sister because we''re kids too so ha! The cheese room was all her idea and it''s awwwesssome but we should have brought some bread to eat all this cheese with." Lukas explains, the last part with some childish mourning.


    For every child has their limits and even he cannot consume all the much cheese plain. Meat is one thing, cheese another.


    "Wheee~ Liwli like chweesies hehe." laughs Lilyanne, dropping the shield I''m holding to go hug a cheese wheel bigger than her self.


    "Right! It''s the perfect place to hide if Amar is seeking! AHahahaha I''m gonna win! Hide and seek champion!!!"


    "Hwide in da nom nom noms!" declares Lilyanne, her voice oddly similarly loud, even when muffled by uncut cheese.


    I take another deep breath of fermentation, resisting the urge to slam my head into the nearest cheese wheel. I think my twin is already doing that for me, with her teeth.


    Lily....Lilyanne don''t do that. Lilyanne please no, you''re leaving marks and oh forget it, it''s ruined anyway. Not like I''m going to eat it.


    Find authorized novels in Webnovel£¬faster updates, better experience£¬Please click www.novelhall.com for visiting.


    I take a look back and forth between the two perfectly normal children, Lukas maniacally laughing in a sense of triumph behind the messy cheese fort while my sister drools and gnaws on a wall of cheese of said fort. I now am trying my best not to worry about a new fear, about their future IQs.


    They''re only so small. It will be fine right? We have time, lots of time to.....curb... this.


    "Okay...so Lukas...what you''re saying is you''ve somehow ''not'' kidnapped my sister from her maids and have been ''hiding'' with Lilyanne. Great. Now where is Amar?"


    "Seeking! Duh, the seeker gotta seek so I don''t know where he is because if I knew then he found me and I lost and that''s bad. "


    "Seek!" parrots Lilyanne with an innocent cheer.


    Invisible flowers spin out of her in cuteness. Messy messy cuteness. That is her great heroine powers, looking so cute while covered in....this. She''s cute as long as she doesn''t come too close or touch me. My parents are mentally gross while my sister, sad to say, physically.


    "What you''re saying is...you let Amar go off, alone, with no one to stop him from escaping? Which he has been trying when we first got to my place?" I reason out to Lukas, hoping for him to connect the dots.


    You can do it Lukas. Please, don''t let Gable and me down.


    "Noooooooo we''re playing hide and seek so he has to find us because that''s the rules of the game and Amar said so himself.... - HEY WAIT A MINUTE?! Amar never said he was seeking! He just said he would count to 30 before going! We''ve been tricked!!!" howls Lukas, hands bunched up in his hair from maybe actually using his kiddy brain.


    I''m so proud of him


    Ahh, but that is classic Amar. The question now is where did he go?


    I leave the brats alone for how long and this happens. There''s no way Amar hasn''t run off by now. I mean, ''hide and seek''? Really? Running unintentionally into Lilyanne I can believe but not taking her along with them. She''s obviously been used as a diversion to distract and keep Lukas busy.


    What an incredibly well thought out plan, not just for a brat.


    Amar''s health is an odd sort of state. He''s not bedridden but long term poisoning and malnutrition isn''t an easy thing to recover from, I don''t need Gable to tell me that. Even if he looks like a relatively normal kid, if on the skinny side, internally that can''t be healthy. Whatever he took most recently wrecked the boy enough for Gable to show concern, let alone my witness to Vincent''s violent reaction from that time.


    My first thought on where he would be...is back to the scene of those crimes. There''s still Vincent too, they''re in something together. They have been.


    "Yes. Yes a minute, many minutes Lukas. How long has it been since the game started?"


    "TRICKED! WE GOT TRICKED! TRICKS!!!" wails Lukas, arms flailing out in shock.


    "Twikd!" cries the cute dumb parrot, scrunching her eyebrows to play mad before breaking character and giggling.


    "Lukas calm down! Great, now you know. Now answer my question and let''s get out of here. How long has it been?"


    "I don''t know we ran through a lot of rooms and then more rooms and the kitchens and we had food and snacks from Barbara and today is this fish pie thing and that yummy too but not as yummy as bacon but it was still yummy-"


    "Snackies!"


    "- and then we wandered the courtyard and went down here and we had to be down here for a while even if we found the cheese room real fast because we built this." he gestures to the honestly impressive feat of childish engineering using nothing but cheese, maybe some ice magic to freeze the structure into place.


    "That''s....a lot of time." I take a guess, feeling lost.


    From Lilyanne''s and mine''s nursery, where I assumed to here, even if they didn''t get distracted would still take quite a while. At least 15 minutes for me to get to my soap rooms. That''s how big my house is, or how short my legs are. This is without all the distractions that Lukas must have gotten into. I say it''s been far past an hour and a half, and that''s me being generous. Who knows how long it''s been?


    "I know! We gave Amar too much of a head start! Grrr that''s cheating! Not cool at all!"


    "We gotta go then, now. Ah, there''s no time and we gotta go back to the sickbay, I need my bag!"


    "Oh oh I got it! I have it! I picked it up and out!"


    A blessing in disguise. Like a disaster-prone hero with a lady''s purse, Lukas pulls up and waves my baggie from the floor of the cheese fort, throwing it the short distance to me. The cute knitted cover over the worn leather looking worse for wear. When this is all over I''m making a new one.


    "No morwe pway?"


    As I quickly dress myself from the magically stored contents, my sister miraculously drops her cheese. Her eyes water but thankfully I don''t see the signs of the usual screaming. Looking so downcast like that I pull her hand, cheesy mess and all, into mine.


    That and I can actually clean it now. Some persistent wipes here and there, then cuteness slowly comes back. She''s a presentable little child once again.


    "Come on Lily, follow big sister out the cold rooms now."


    "MMmmmm, no morwe play? Rosa and big bruder go bye an no pway morwe wit Lilwi. No morwe hiwde an seek?"


    Wrong place wrong time for the cuteness attack but here it is. Who oh who can resist the charms of such a cute toddler? Ow ow ow, hit in the gut.


    Right, Lilyanne must have been feeling lonely lately without me. Unlike in the past where she was trapped in the sickbay with me outside, it''s been a switch around. Must be lonely for this sticky baby when I''ve always been by her, for magical recovery and all.


    Before I can recover enough from the sucker punch of cuteness to soothe my teary sister, the great Lukas declares:


    "Of course we''re still playing hide and seek! We got tricked into hiding when we''re SEEKING! I found Rosa! Now I gotta find Amar to win! Let''s go!"


    "Yaaaaaaay!!! Hwide an seek!"


    I watch in pained confusion as Lukas spiritedly charges out of the room, down the tunnel the wrong way, then back again when he figures it out and up to the surface. All in under a minute. My little sister toddling after like a baby soldier, copying in all the dramatic movements and war crying.


    Let''s....not worry about them too much just yet. There''s a more pressing concern at the moment.


    Somehow though, I feel a little lonely.


    It was me that this baby Lilyanne would always copy after every move. It''s part conveniently and somewhat annoying, but still very cute. To see her doing it so blatantly after another child is a strange sight to me. I don''t know how to feel about it. Does she just follow along and copy after anyone? Like an infant learning through monkey see monkey do?


    ....


    Lilyanne no! Lily get back here, don''t copy Lukas you''re going to die! Or get even sillier! No no no! Ahhhhhhh!!!! Big sister is coming! Don''t follow after that one! Not Lukas!!!


    You''re the heroine, you can''t afford to become like that. He''s so dumb and derpy it''s almost as bad as...Oh no, oh no no no don''t follow after grampa either Lilyanne! You''re copying all the bad influences!!!


    My sister is easy to catch up to given her short chubby untrained legs. These are the legs of a true toddler that never had to go through the Tamera obstacle course. They tire easily and aren''t very fast, but they are full of enthusiasm.


    "Rosa! Yayay! Rosa pway now!" she flings herself at me mid waddle run.


    Oh even the clumsy way she penguin runs is heart-meltingly adorable. Yes yes, that''s right Lily. If you must follow after anyone it should be big sister. Please discriminate a bit more?


    Hand in hand we burst out into the light of day, trailing after the bulldozer that is Lukas.


    The back kitchen courtyard isn''t empty , far from it, there''s a small crowd of lingering staff and servents. Even some maids are watching something from a distance. From the white sunlight peeking through the half gloomy skies, I would say it''s close to lunchtime. A few nearby eyes follow with surprise as Lukas bursts his way out of the cold storage with not one but two of their young mistresses behind him.


    "Huh, was Rosalia down there the whole time?"


    "Well at least we won''t get in too much trouble with Ms. Gerta?"


    "Eeeeh just don''t tell the maids, it will be fine."


    "They still panicking up there? I thought Alfonso had it."


    "That Lukas kid sure is energetic, I think he''s got stronger lungs than both our young misses combined."


    "Hewo! Lilwli wikes hiwde an seek!" my sister cheerfully waves to every one of the staff.


    Wait the staff!


    "Lukas wait where you going you dummy? You can''t just find someone by charging and yelling. Let''s ask around if anyone saw where Amar went. Find Alfonso, Alfonso will know."


    I squeeze my way through to the kitchen, dragging Lilyanne right behind me and Lukas quickly catching up. If anything I need a place to put my baby sister before really running off. Sorry Lilyanne, I''ll play with you later when this is all over. Big sister promises so try not to copy anyone you shouldn''t be in the mean time.


    The kitchen is much emptier than it should be, not surprising given the crowd that''s outside.


    Huh, what was the matter there? I entirely disregarded that in my search for someone with answers. While there is no Alfonso in sight, Barbara is still here tending to the main firepit that serves as a stove. If my senior kitchen maid doesn''t know what I need she can still point me in the right direction.


    "Barbara! Have you seen Amar anywhere? Or heard anything?" I lightly tug at her skirts, getting her attention.


    "Oh dearies whatever are you doing here?"


    Pink faced from the flames, the still young woman looks down to find not one but three wide-eyed tiny children staring up at her. She quickly shoos us from the fire area, a safety concern I admit. Note to do something about upgrading my kitchens at a later time.


    "You haven''t heard with what the commotion all is? My our young miss Rosalia, you''re usually all up in the know."


    I shake my head, giving the excuse that I was with my father and playing with the other kids the whole time.


    "It''s horrible, we started seeing the start of green smoke and flames about two or so hours ago. Poor little Amar was so concerned about his friends back at the troops. He begged so pitifully to be let on the morning wagon. Our George couldn''t stand for it and took the boy."


    "What?!!" shouts Lukas and I at near the same time. I follow up to that, "There was a fire at the troops? A green fire?"


    "I can''t say what color the fire was but the smoke sure was shades of grays, purple and green. Still is. It''s gotten a lot better so it must be contained somewhat but the smoke is still going. That''s why everyone''s dawdling outside."


    With a quick thanks Lukas and I are running back outside, I faintly register my sister still toddling after us.


    Now looking up at the sky in the right direction, I''m aghast how we could have missed it earlier. In the distance in the direction of the troops blow plumes of awfully colored clouds. The signs of a large fire any.


    "Hwide an seek?" asks Lilyanne, still behind us as Lukas and I stare up where Amar has gone off to. Where he must already be, Georgie or no.


    "Oh yeah we''re still playing hide and seek alright!" growls Lukas, like a mad puppy dog ready to give chase.


    "We have to get there. We have to find him, something bad is definitely going on. I don''t think he''s not involved either."


    The moment we leave Amar alone and this of all things happen. Of course. Why do I even bother being surprised anymore? Not in this world. Even if he was here when the fire started, everything is just happening all too coincidently. A magical or something sort of fire? I''m not calling the kid an arsonist or that he''s behind it but it''s all too well timed.


    "Liwli come too!" waddles my sister, trying to keep up after us.


    I take the time to look back to at the very least shout a sorry and for her to stay good. I''m glad my training is showing some sort of effect because Lukas and I quickly lose her with our speed alone.


    When we run out to the wagon stop, it''s completely stalled. Two wagon drivers look on from their parked vehicles, the horses already returned to their stables for safety. Another lingering crowd looking out at the rising smoke, talking among themselves.


    "Mr. Serra!" I call out to the white-bearded wagon driver, one of the retired stablemen who had taken to the new more leisurely job position.


    "My my my if it isn''t the little missy Rosalia and the bacon boy. Out to see the fuss?"


    "Mr. Serra is there any way for someone to take us to troops? Please, it''s an emergency."


    "Please please please!" shouts Lukas, "We have to get there!"


    "Right, our friend went earlier and -"


    But to my great disappointment, the old man shakes his head, pointing to the smoke stream.


    "It''s too dangerous younglings, not when it''s been going on for so long. It''s procedure for the troops to come to our aid but not the other way around. Rather it''s better to stay back and be ready if need be to send supplies and aid. But we haven''t received any word yet, not a single messager bird. "


    "But Amar already left a long time ago!" cries Lukas.


    The old man tsked and looks back to the source of the smoke and fire, shaking his head. "Nothing I can do, I''m sorry boy. Young missy. Not when all the steeds have been put back."


    "Well then take them back out, please. We have to get to the troops, we have to get him." I beg.


    The only response I get back is another shake of the head and a holding pat on my shoulder.


    "You best wait for news young miss Rosalia. Even if you weren''t a child, it ain''t no good rushing in when you don''t know how to help. Folks like that may be getting in the way of the real help."


    That may be true but, in the mess of it all, what help is there for a kid like Amar? Why is he running back in this commotion? How is he even involved? Is he even involved?


    "We gotta go Rosa, we gotta." Lukas shakes me out of it, dragging me off from the wagon station.


    "But -"


    "We gotta! Something really weird is going on. I remember now! I remember when I went out to find Amar on the balcony. He wasn''t holding anything but, it was a little like smoke floating in the air and there was something like ash on the ground. It was dark and I was sleepy but he kicked it away."


    "He was burning something...smoke, a smoke signal? "


    "I don''t know but we gotta go if there''s trouble."


    "But how? And Mr. Serra is right, if we don''t know what''s going on and we rush in we''ll make it worse. We''re only kids Lukas."


    "We''re kids AND we''re heroes!" he shouts, turning around to yell in my face. "That''s what heroes do, they rush in the save people. So what if we''re small and don''t know it all?! We''re the only heroes around that can find Amar. We already did it before!"


    I gulp. From Lukas'' shouting, from the still recent memory of the poisoning case, from the sheer ridiculousness of his statement and the truth behind it all.


    "We''re not heroes stupid. I''m definitely not and you''re just 6, but you''re right. We gotta go, for Amar. If they won''t take the horses out we go to them. Come on the stables are this way."


    "Of course we are Rosa! You''re still a sidekick but don''t be all sad and silly, you''ll get bigger and cooler later. To the strong fluffy legs!!!"


    "You mean horses."


    "Muscle Leg Fluffies!"


    Who am I to argue with that? Besides I''m too busy panting in the run the stables, Lukas is still leagues ahead of me in speed and well, everything. When I lag, he''s forced to slow in order to pull me along. It feels like my arm is about to be ripped out of the socket if I don''t at least try to keep up. If I just let go, I either go flying with him or lose my arm.


    "There it is!" he announces, right as the stables are in seeing distance. We''re a good 60 kiddy steps away when the doors bursts open, shocking us into a halting stop.


    "Oh dear! Oh whatever are you little ones doing out here?"


    Mother?! Behold that is most certainly my mother a top Damask, thankfully dressed in something more appropriate than that nightgown. Quickly riding out and around her is father on a much larger male steed, Gino.


    "Little ones? Don''t tell me it''s those brats ...Chip?!" father exclaims, picking up speed.


    Before either one of us knows it, he''s curved and leaned to scoop me up off the ground. I hear Lukas shouting from behind as father rides off, trying to tuck me into safety because yes, that move of his was not standard pick up procedure at all. Cool looking but oh so not safe.


    "Oh god what have I done?" father wonders, buttoning me in. As if taking me was not part of the plan, which to be fair it probably wasn''t.


    "Father we have to get to the troops, something awful has happened!" I shout, getting snug in my ride''s jacket. All this wind friction is a tad painful for my eyes.


    "I''ve noticed. You shouldn''t be here."


    "There''s no time! Amar''s already there and we know he''s involved somehow."


    "....Somehow, I am not surprised." Father looks down at me for a brief moment before picking up a thankfully ridiculous amount of speed, the wind blowing back his hair entirely. Against that very wind, I hear some grumbling that sounds a bit like curses a child shouldn''t know.


    After some time of anxious fast riding, I hear the familiar gallops of a beast steed coming from behind. Louder than that I hear the excited whooping sound from Lukas, who must have gotten a ride with my mother.


    "This is so cooooooooool!!!"


    Honestly, the suspicious fire and unknown horrors with it not included, yeah it kinda is.


    -------------


    --------


    -----


    ---


    ---


    ------


    ---------


    --------------


    He can''t breathe.


    He lies there, gasping and twitching, not of his own accord but the human body''s natural response to life. A fish flopping out of water.


    Humans were meant to breathe a certain mixture, a certain air. They cannot breathe smoke, flames, let alone the plethora of toxic things burning in the fire that now rages through the building. It''s all too much. He can''t breathe, he can''t move but he could feel. Oh by the gods he could feel what havoc the fumes were wrecking through his body. Immunity or not, it was just too much. The entire site was burning in multi-colors, it wasn''t just his vision going.


    Left as is he would die here, surrounded by flames. Hopefully as soon as possible. It was too late, the poison was all too much. His body throbs, thrashing and curling without his control, nervous system and blood going haywire in the disconnect and rewiring from his brain to each connection.


    Hundreds of specimens not meant to be burned, to be breathed, all up in flames. He would scream in the malady if he still could, it was torture.


    Death by fire is a painful abhorrent way for anyone to go, but this? Wrecked in toxic fumes confusing and amplifying the body in ways it wasn''t ever meant to be? It was too late for help, his system was finally going. Shutting down before even a lick of flames could touch him, though the intense heat surely did.


    A crash, the closest door comes falling down with a purposeful slam. Areas of flames weakened, almost dead.


    Help came too late. Help came underwhelming. Help was impossible at all.


    The fire was of little concern, that could be put out, dampened to an extent. It was the air. No one should be able to make it through these fumes, not without a high level magical barrier to seal off their air supply. Then what? They get in and how would they get him out? How do they heal what damage has been done?


    "Oh. There you are."


    It can''t be. He''s hallucinating.


    Steps so small and light it can only be from a child walks up, close, then back around. Circling the room slowly, as the room was a curious attraction rather than the lethal inferno that it was.


    "You look very silly like that master Darius? Ah but this much poison would do that to about anyone? Hmmm, okay. That makes sense. We should do something about that?"


    Acid more intense than any fire splashes over him, eating through layers of leather, cloth, hair, and skin, fusing them into one thick sludge. If his nerves were working right it would have been in pain enough to have him screaming in agony for hours.


    But he just can''t breathe, he can barely even see.


    "Oh? That wasn''t a healing solution? Ah sorry sorry. You shouldn''t mislabel your items so much? Anyone would get confused. Even Vincent can''t figure it all out and he''s your best disciple after all these years. It''s why sometimes I get the wrong dosage right? Is that what started the fire? Or did you do that yourself? That''s very silly of you."


    Powdery ash falls, dumped right over him, the chalky mixture causing his limbs to violently twitch and twist in ways that bones should not be able to. His neck already bent unnaturally to the side.


    "Ah, these are all very bad symptoms. You can''t even talk? Or breathe? Hmmm breathing. Right. Let''s fix that. That much I know how do. Sorry I don''t know how to do much more."


    A leaf.


    A simple sprig of leaves. All on a small green bundle, it dances over and under his nose. A sooty little brown hand holds the supposed cure, the gentle tickle of it shocking over flesh like razor blades. It trails to enter his mouth. Just as quickly as it appeared, it''s gone, only to crush itself with grinding force into his eyes.


    The reaction was almost instantaneous but he could feel it, every split seconds as the blood vessels there essentially burst, not from the pressure but the right mix of simple herbs.


    "Oops. I was trying to feed it to you? It helps you breathe and it would stop a lot of the symptoms. It will definitely save you for a while longer before the poisons seep your body even more. But you moved. I guess you can''t help it? You''re twitching really bad?"


    Another liquid pours, splashing in a long torrent over his eyes, his nose, drowning him without actually doing so. Who drowns to death in a fire?


    "There we go, you still have your sight with you right? Problem solved. Now you really should chew on this. Good thing I found another one."


    A small boot steps on his bent neck, increasing the monstrous pressure and maneuvering his rattling head to sufficient position, crushing what strained breath he can''t feel right out. Contrary to the foot crushing the windpipe at his neck, the hand that feeds tender green herbs to his unconsciously gaping mouth is gentle. Like a child afraid to touch and damage his parent''s things.


    The effects of the herbs work, a portion of it melting down his twisted throat. Even with a body stepping on his neck, it feels wrong but it''s easier to breathe.


    With some semblance of control regained, the man spits out the dry bits of herbs remaining before that small boot kicks his jaw shut, most likely cutting his tongue in the process. He breathes, one-two, three and four breathes too many. When he quivers his mouth, his mangled tongue, to speak. blood and froth spill forth.


    "Ki-...ki..."


    "Oh it''s working. But I can''t understand you like that you know?" the footsteps back and the outside pressure is gone.


    "Ki-i-ll me."


    "What''s that? You''re not saying what I think you are right?"


    "Ki-ill me al-already." he gasped out, coughing a round of bloody bile.


    "Don''t be silly."


    A small child''s face brings itself upside down. Even from the distorted angle, he looked almost angelic. The goddess''s tiny messenger come down to deliver eternal peace at the end of times. But it''s not, far from it. For the childishly innocent smile and gentle soft tone didn''t match with the intensity of wide green eyes. This was no angel, it was the spawn of the devil. This was his price to pay for playing his experiments with something, someone, they shouldn''t have. A juvenile was still a demon, a creature of reckoning. This or something worse would have happened eventually, it was only a matter of when.


    And today was just that day, simple as that.


    "Don''t be silly, I''m here to save you." the boy hums, promises with a bright smile. A tiny almost emancipated hand entangling itself to hair that hadn''t melted off in acid. The boy tugs and it feels like he''s being scalped alive.


    "Heroes save people, that''s what it''s all about right?"


    The child tugs and the scalp still remains, the body still attached, dragging the jerking paralyzed body of a full-grown adult across the ground. As if the weight and pull were nothing more than a toy rag doll rather then a violently lurching adult man, many times larger and heavier than the little boy himself. He drags the still breathing man across broken shards and puddles of flame, a path straight through to the exit. A valent rescue as any.


    "Besides, it''s no fun if you just die?"


    The boy kicks and a line of surviving shelves fall like dominos, crashing and fueling the flames further, cutting off the immediate path to the outside. The fumes growing all the stronger, eating away at any soul that dared breath it in, just like it at collapsed wreckage.


    He prays for a quicker death and knows that it is too much to ask for.


    "Oh. Oops?"


    ----------


    ------


    ---

 98 We all lose here.

    Good evening imaginary audience in my head. It is I, Rosalia Ventrella. The worst star in any story ever.


    Does this scene look familiar?


    These bare white walls with no decor or comforts, these fluffy insulated beds, sick child one two and three? A peaceful and calming scene. Hmmm?


    Why yes this is the sickbay of my home and no we haven''t gone back in time. I am quite literally trapped in the sickbay, again.


    ''Sorry'' reads the chalk slate help up by the little occupant of the quarantine bed across the room.


    I throw a pillow at him, hard. As hard as I can. Then another. I aim and shoot continuously until he''s buried in pillows. Which doesn''t take long given a primary schooler''s size? HE''s too far away to smack.


    A high speed pillow hits me back from beside my head, nearly knocking me off my bed. When I turn around to yell I recall that I can''t. No one can. Because we all breathed in toxic fumes. Painkiller magic aside, it hurts to even breathe let alone speak.


    ''Pillow fight?'' scrawls the messy little slate from my other side, Lukas squeaking and grunting while waving it. Somehow still making noise despite his damaged throat and lungs.


    ''NO!'' I write back.


    Then out of spite, I throw another pillow over at what should be Amar underneath the current growing pile. Madly trying to bury him in the feathery fluff.


    What''s he gonna do next? Dig and disappear from a hole in the bed? How else is he going to sneak out of here? What other kinds of havoc is he going to wreck? This is the only good thing about being locked back in the sickbay again, that this trouble marker is confined.


    At least he can''t talk right now either. So he can''t lie, or trick as Lukas calls it, his way out of this one. Actually, he''s in the absolute worst physical condition out of all of us so he really shouldn''t.


    ''Sorry'' peeks out a tiny pair of hands out the pillow pile, holding up the slate.


    Oh goodie, he didn''t disappear from under there just yet. I throw another pillow, aiming for it to show my dissatisfaction. I''d hop over there and smack that slate out of his hands if I could. But I can''t. Thus the pillow ammo and throwing.


    We''re all having a grand old time being bedridden, again.


    I just got out of here!


    We all just were good to go just this morning and now we''re right back in. Not dying necessarily but quite incapacitated. This is, of course, all Amar''s fault. If he had just been good and stayed put none of this would have happened, or at least it wouldn''t have happened to us.


    I would kill him for it if he wasn''t already looking like a regular visitor with death.


    Amar only stopped coughing up blood a little while ago, an after effect of oh I don''t know...running into a burning building of chemical agents! Which is why he''s being quarantined solo over there after a Gable approved medicinal bath and all. He''s lucky he didn''t go into cardiac arrest.


    The progress we''ve made the last few days on his health is shot. He spent far too long breathing shit no one should be breathing. It''s far worse and harder to treat in this world than some surface burns. That you can magically potion and paste or apply a salve. Detoxing? Not so much. It''s bad enough it''s still wrecking his system as I speak and I don''t know, pouring out his skin?


    It''s not but sure why not? Might as well be. The kid got himself drastically poisoned, again.


    We all did.


    I don''t know what else we expected rushing to the scene of the fire. Smokey smokey fire. To be fair I did technically....break and cross the magical safety barrier. Not like Lukas could do that on his own... but it''s still all Amar''s fault! Yep!


    Seeing that I am very angry but with nothing to do in my dizzy confinement I shall now sit here and stew over it. That and I''m out of spare pillows.


    Hey hey you down there, toss my pillows back. Don''t just hide down there. Amar I know you can still see me and my sign under there, don''t ignore me you little shit. Give them back so I can keep hitting you with them.


    The pillow pile trembles for a bit, a sign of life, before going still. He''s playing dead on me. When I get no response even after tiring my arms out with waving the sign I''m forced to gesture to Lukas to do something. As a bigger and stronger child, despite the poisoning, he can at least retrieve some pillows.


    Without even having to write on the slate, Lukas nods, somehow understanding my gestures.


    My pleasant surprise does not last long. For it is apparent as he lifts me up high like a pillow to be tossed that he indeed does not understand. I get a split second to be shocked but no time to claw to safety nor stop him.


    Little arms fling me thrown across the room, a silent scream caught uncomfortably in my throat.


    My landing is soft but uncomfortably face first. It comes with a collapse and small explosion of pillows. A flustered and now exposed Amar quickly pulls my nonthreatening dizzy self further into the remaining pillow fort with him, all without even a blink. Instead, his eyes scan the surroundings as he shakily piles back on the loose pillows as best he can for defense. I have a bad feeling about defense against what. Shaking off the dizzy spell and urge to just yell, not that I can, I clutch tightly to the biggest pillow I can grab before Amar tops us off to bunker down.


    The ground, or mattress, shakes and wobbles. A wild cannonball named Lukas comes crashing, bouncing and bursting through the pillows. He literally jumped over here, on pure mattress momentum and his own legs. These things don''t even have springs?


    This wasn''t what I meant when I motioned to get my pillows back.


    The good news is that we knocked the ''sorry'' slate out of Amar''s hands. However, the excitement, or maybe the repeated blunt force trauma, causes him to start coughing painfully.


    Ah great, now I feel awful. I can''t attack a weak and pitiful kid like that. Not even with a pillow.


    Quick Lukas, reach for some water or at least for the spitting bucket. What if he coughs up blood again?


    Please enjoy the fumbling scene of two mochis knocking over themselves and pillows. Lukas and I aren''t the most coordinated creatures at the moment. Must be all the nerve damage. Somehow Amar is leagues ahead in that poison damage, coughing and all.


    \"I assume this means the two of you are feeling much better than expected.\"


    Gable enters the now very heavily guarded sickbay with grace and splendor, despite that furrow to his brow and what may be eye bags. Ah yes, the tired sleep deprived charm, a handsome man at Gable''s level can make anything look good. Anything. I feel healed already.


    Something at Gable silently disagrees with I''m sure, from the stern laser beams he''s shooting with his eyes.


    He sees to a teary Amar first, stabilizing that damaging coughing fit before picking up and dropping Lukas and I back to the other side of the room. A gentle but not easy warning telling us to stay put, especially Lukas.


    It''s for everyone''s own good.


    The original reason was for our own safety lest we get further poisoned from whatever is lingering in Amar himself. However, it''s now apparent that it may be more for Amar''s safety than anything. He needs his rest and not to start vomiting blood again.


    I understand Lukas with his hard to control energy but why am I being put in the risk group too? I''m not the blunt force trauma behind everything. I''m just the unlucky occasional ammo. ...Okay so maybe I should stop threatening and throwing pillows at Amar. Fine.


    For everyone''s safety though, I suggest we lock Amar up in here indefinitely? I don''t trust this kid or any of these circumstances.


    It''s just been a danger and things going wrong one after another lately.


    The things that I can recall from today alone....after getting a ride with my parents....we were riding off and then...well for one I didn''t know mother could ride like that?


    It was no surprise that my parents'' arrival got the VIP treatment at the troops. The crowds that were there parted and the layers of doorways opened for them with no stall. If it weren''t for the emergency situation, I would say it was even amusing to ride a horse straight through everything. What as strange though was the air.


    Normally the closer you get to a fire, the smokier the air would get. In this case, the immediate air was clear. Layers of defensive physical and magical barriers separated the scene of the fire from the rest of the camp. Ensuring everyone''s safety. The bruise colored fumes were far deadlier than the fire itself, releasing toxic air.


    As my father has said, I''m not surprised.


    Not surprised at all when we reached as close as my parents'' status could get us to, right behind the sealed barrier and safety line, that it was that place up in flames. The same plain building in that previously dark alley was lit up, a giant bonfire. That burning light outshined a fainting glowing isolated funnel barrier that forced the smoke and fumes up and outwards. It was only then that I noticed a dome shield that protected the entirety of the troops'' airspace. Toxic smoke rolling up and over, physically showing the safe space of the dome. The contrast of smog and clear air as clear as a snowglobe.


    We got off the mounts at the last barrier we could enter without proper protection. People rushed to report to my parents but I hardly heard them. Beyond that were soldiers, responders in masks and bulky covers that looked more like antique diving suits that anything fireproof.


    Another layer of barrier kept them separated from the area of the fire, a buffer zone from the flames and smoke.


    It was in that buffer zone, beyond the barrier we were forced to stop at, that I saw it. Not just the collapse of the roof. I saw it on the side.


    My father had told me to stay put. Yellow out my name as I ran under the crowds and around the side. It was easy to do so, to lose a short small child, in that mess.


    \"Which way?\" shouted Lukas, ducking under legs and catching up to me easily.


    \"Did you see it? Right before the roof collapsed?!\"


    \"Where all the people were! Something fell from the top.\"


    \"Jumped, it was people. Someone jumped.\"


    We ran along the edge of the barrier, trying to get a closer look. Trying to spy a tiny troublemaker in the midst of it all.


    It is with both relief and alarm when we finally do.


    \"There!\"


    Even though there was a small gathering of people, it was easy to see a small dirty boy laying on the ground. Nearby I registered a burnt beyond identifying victim receiving urgent medical attention but my eyes were tunneled in on the only child around.


    Even covered in soot and burning all around, it''s easy to recognize Amar in the midst of all that. It was almost too easy. It was easy to recognize Vincent, even in a half mask and that bulky suit, pressing down repeatedly on that childish frame. He pressed till the Amar hacked up a splatter of blood and them some, messy but breathing.


    \"Rosa hurry! We almost got him.\" Lukas called out, and it''s from his cry that I realized I had already half stepped through the barrier.


    With a stumble and barely a split second to wonder how the hell I did that, I fell over completely. Just plopped my right over the other side of the invisible wall. Maybe fall over and skim my palms in my landing. Wonderful.


    \"Hey no fair!\" knocked Lukas. \"Let me in too!!! Rosalia! Hey!\"


    The kid bashed the barrier for all he''s worth, even putting in a headbutt or three to no avail. All it did was made an adorable little knocking sound, like a small pet on the other side of a closed door. Futile in their entry without a human to open it for It was on headbutt number four that I managed to pick myself up and reach a hand back out to him.


    As if the barrier was nothing but a holographic light, my hand passed through entirely.


    If it was another time I would have played around and experimented with it, how I passed through so easily. But it really really was not the time.


    If there is one thing I can rely on Lukas on, it''s to act first and think later. With a terrible fire reflected grin expanded over his face, he grasped my hand and pulls himself right over. There was a slight resistance when he crossed compared to my easy as air fall but with the both of us pulling and pushing, he made his way over just as well. Too much since we both went rolling on the ground before sprinting towards where Vincent was emergency tending to a reanimated Amar, sitting him up and getting him to breathe through a sea sponge. By sprinting I, of course, meant getting teddy bear pulled along by the speed and force that is Lukas.


    The sight of kids, let alone anyone being on the wrong side of the safety barrier caused quite a few pointed fingers. Mostly along the lines of \"what are they doing there?!\" and \"someone get them?\". If I heard a panicked scream and curse of my name that sounded oddly like my parents then well...what''s done was done.


    We got to Amar, we really did.


    Saw as he wearily blinked up from sponge and the parting adults, taking in the surroundings. He looked around confusedly after clearly spotting us, a sign of more brain damage I''m sure. He might have even pinched himself from the disbelieving look I saw on his dirty face. As if he wasn''t in enough pain. Green eyes bright and grimacing even under all the ash.


    \"FOUND YOU!\" screamed Lukas, flinging the both of us on the obviously injured other child. No one making any move to stop the rampaging child.


    I maybe screamed, due to the trajectory of said fling landing me right into a damaged Amar. Lukas right behind to pile up and crush us both.


    \"You!-\"I barely started.


    \"Found you cheater! Haha take that! Hide and seeeeeek winner!!! You thought you could trick us but nooooooo. We found you so we won and you loss and-urgh... I don''t feel so good.\"


    Before I could finish more than a word, Lukas promptly passed out over me in this sad painful kiddy sandwich. He just went from hyper excited to dead in a single beat. Which would have been more concerning if Amar wasn''t quite literally dying underneath me.


    Even as I make to push the dead weight off, Amar finds his breath enough to forcibly stuff the sponge he was just breathing through practically into my own mouth. Crushing my poor little face with sorry black hands. I recall him yelling at Vincent, most likely to get over the shock of our sudden appearance and get some more of those damn sponges. Sponges that were probably the filter keeping the escaped poison fumes from killing us. Not that I knew it was poison but it was safe to assume and quite obvious from the multi-color flames and the burning building that was fueling it.


    But I was too mad and in sudden pain at that point to think clearly.


    \"Rosalia don''t get mad? Don''t yell? That will be really bad here.\"


    To be fair Amar did try warning me. But I was too busy war crying into the smooshed sponge before ripping it off to smack at him.


    \"I leave for one morning, just one morning and what do you do?!! How did you get this far?! What?! A fire! Stupid! How do you end up at the scene of a fire? Is that a dead body??? What were you doing in there? Why did you jump from the roof you brain def- urg. It smells....\"


    \"Rosa! Breathe?!\"


    \"...Stupido.\"


    \"Through the sponge? Breathe through the filter!\"


    \"...It''s poison isn''t it?\"


    \"Can you stop talking? Vincent, we gotta get them out of here now.\"


    \"....I''m... gonna kill you later...\"


    \"Stop talking and keep it to your face! Rosa? Rosa!\"


    Another point I would like to defend myself with is that Amar is usually much stronger than little old me. I wouldn''t be able to normally pull anything away from him, even a sponge, let alone be fast enough to do so. I was also running on adrenaline.


    However, I understand and accept that no amount of excuses erases the fact that I stupidly poisoned myself by simply breathing too much.


    I soon followed Lukas'' wonderful example by passing out right then and there, much to Amar''s shaking and sudden coughing. The last conscious thought I had was a mixed pot of unresolved things. From how much trouble I was going to be in with my parents, to how badly I needed a bath after this, and most certainly how to pay back the boys for this lovely game.


    Worst round of hide and seek ever.


    Which is how we''ve come full circle to now, right back into the sick bay. All poisoned, again.


    When I came to, it was to an even more unpleasant situation. Painfully mute, naked and getting drowned by my own grampa.


    Apparently the treatment plan to the extreme carbon monoxide poisoning in kids was a herbal bath. A Gable made concoction of herbs and whatnot that smelled medicinally awful and drew out black sludge out from one''s body. As if that were a perfectly normal result of a bath.


    I mean it technically is....we were getting clean? Ah thinking about it makes me dizzy. I''m just still very dizzy in general. A whole different sort of bad effects stew compared to the first time I got poisoned by curry.


    Being that I am in the body of a toddler, you would think I should be treated with utmost gentleness. Not getting scrubbed and rung like a piece of dirty laundry. But no, that premium treatment was reserved for a then unconscious Amar and absolutely wasted on Lukas. For as my grampa, excited in my wakening, scrubbed me clean of 3 layers of skin in the medicinal bath, Gable was working on a squirming weak Lukas while keeping Amar from slipping under in his sleep.


    Modestly does not exist. We were washed and left to soak in our own kiddy pool basins just the same as one would do laundry or clean vegetables.


    The shame. I know we''re just little mochi kids but oh the shame. Gable must have seen everything and I must now live with this. I must also live with the fact that Lukas senselessly asked why I didn''t have ''all my parts''.


    Oh the shame. Why didn''t grampa drown me when he had the chance?


    At least one kid was down and out, unconscious to the mess that was the treatment, aka bathtime. Worrying, especially when he let out a red-tinged cough, but what can we do?


    It was interesting to note that the water in each of our vegetable washing basins were different colors. Something grampa assures me was not the case originally. I don''t really know what to make of that except for the fact that Lukas and I were wrapped up and sent to the sickbay while Amar kept getting an unknown number of washes. The expelled black sludge tainted his bathwater so quickly that it looked like a pool of tar. He was simply fished out of one dirty bath and right into the next one when the previous one got too thick.


    Though we wanted to stay to the end, neither Lukas nor I couldn''t voice it. Still can''t. We''ve all been rendered temporarily mute from the smoke. Even though grampa and Gable must have understood our desires, it was still off to bed for us while Amar continued his private treatment.


    I wish I could say it looks worse than it is.


    I hate how tight-lipped those adults can be sometimes. If I were a real child without any comprehension skills, I would truly be left in the dark. Still, it''s an awful chore to have to figure out everything by myself when they could just....tell me?


    Despite his energy, I can''t say that Lukas seems fine. I''m sure not. But it doesn''t seem as bad the curry incident. A lot less pain for one. The signs of a rising fever in addition to the sore chest and throats make it feel as if it''s the coming of a bad cold.


    \"Don''t work yourselves up so soon. You''ll be feeling much worse tomorrow,\" warns Gable, tightly tucking Lukas into bed primarily to get him to stop jumping.


    ''How bad?'' I try scribbling, my own body sluggish and still dizzy.


    \"Not too bad, if you stay good and rest. Properly. All of you\" answers Gable, resorting to tying down Lukas with the bedsheets, wrapping him much like a human burrito. Or perhaps a cacoon?


    He succeeds but Lukas only fights harder, his face going increasingly red not just from the growing fever. In the sheets and weighed down, he can only flop uselessly like a worm. Futile as it may be he sincerely tries getting away from Gable of all things. The blasphemy.


    Amar and I watch the show, for lack of anything better to do. That is until my grampa reenters the scene, a corked dark bottle smelling foul even though it''s sealed.


    \"The syrup is ready! Alright, who''s first?\"


    It''s futile, all escape attempts will be futile. I know that. But this child''s body instinctual fear to horrendously bitter potion syrup is too strong.


    ''Can we use Lilyanne?'' I try scrawling, my handwriting getting increasingly messy. Amar nods furiously, pointing to my chalk message. The fear of bitter and nasty apparently more effective on him than his own wellbeing or fear of dangerous situations.


    \"Can your sister do that? Locate and heal what''s been damaged in your systems? With your constitution Rosalia?\" asks Gable with a flat voice.


    I feel like I''m being treated as a child, and somehow just as equally in trouble as Amar and Lukas. How heartbreaking.


    ''We can try?'' I write out, pulling out the watery puppy eyes to go with it.


    Across the room, Amar follows up on his chalk slate with a ''please'', looking absolutely pathetic just by being himself. The unsteadying thumping coming from a bond Lukas wriggling on the bed.


    Gable gives us all a flat look before turning that into a glare towards a smiling grampa. Who looks far too cheerful in the situation. But that''s grampa for you.


    \"That means nope! Nothing like a good old fashioned syrup!\" he sing songs, pulling out a fearfully large spoon.


    His weapon of choice for the day, and the victims are us sick kids. I have a feeling this is also part of the punishment for whatever trouble each of us caused.


    \"Now! Once again! Who wants to go first?! Aw come up, Gable made it himself!\"


    Lukas fish flops even more violently in an attempt to escape, surely overheating in there. It seems he would know best just want Gable''s homemade medicine tastes like. Magic, in all the bad ways, that much is clear to see.


    The more bitter, the more effective the healing. I hate this rule.


    It is with great dread and the natural instinct to at least search for an escape that Amar and I make eye contact. We look at each other, then to the worming Lukas, back again to slowly nod in agreement before both pointing down to the lucky older child.


    \"Alrighty then! Lukas my boy, let''s show them how it''s done!\" cheers grampa, uncorking the thing and forcing everyone to wince from the smell alone.


    It''s so bad even Lukas goes still for a moment, all before rolling over and off the bed, attempting to make his sad escape from the floor. It''s almost cute...until Gable picks him right up for Grampa to sadistically spoon feed. That berserk reaction was not so cute, not at all.


    Being in the sickbay sucks. We''re all losers in here.


    \"Wonderful! Now on to the next patient!\" says grampa, already pouring the next spoon and eyeing me with his award winning smile.


    Oh no.


    Oh no no no.


    At least get me a chaser for this! No make that a lot of chasers! Amar don''t you dare try to escape from this, you''re next!


    ---------

 99 A little too much alike

    \"What is it that you wanted to accomplish?\"


    An exhausted young man stands against the worn rust-covered wall, his hands held in a soldier''s rest, even though the superior before him is not. A nobleman in fine dress should look out of place in this place, but he doesn''t. He is something far more terrifying, ranks above by virtue of his identity alone.


    The young Lord Ventrella.


    Vincent schools his expression, forcing his heart to slow unnaturally. A bit of his abilities, twisted, to give the appearance of calm and not just dead. The young man is so tired. A whirlwind of events the last few days worked his down bare and raw. Everything done in the shadows wasn''t brought to light, rather it only forced him to retreat even further. Hidden in the flames and ashes.


    He could not, however, deny the headache that everything was. A headache catalyzed from the existence of just one child.


    After anxious workdays of hearing absolutely nothing, their signal quitely lit up in the night. Frost and clouds covering a scent only the dead could be roused by. His little pets rattle and moaned that early morning. No more planning, no more waiting, nothing. That was all the warning given.


    What a headache.


    The young man was already running on fumes since this morning. He didn''t have much more to give. He didn''t have to worry, but he did anyway. Worried as all the parts and pieces fell in place, an elaborate trick that knocked and crashed a bigger and bigger reaction until the place he called home went all up in flames. He didn''t have to worry as he rushed out, tagged out, because he had done his part in the dark.


    But then that child tagged in. They had been over this, again and again, and he still worried.


    He worried when one minute too long turned to two then three. Worried about it all going wrong because hell doesn''t it always?


    Being alive meant toeing the line, constantly.


    His throat felt like a tightrope, a humm of rushing blood and magic keeping him from keeling over from the smoke and fumes. His heart might as well have overdone itself when a figure finally ran out of the doomed burning building, all in the wrong places. Up high and all wrong.


    He thought it couldn''t possibly get worse today. Not after the heart attack, Amar gave him, tossing their ''master'' off the roof of a crashing building and then knocking the breath out of himself in his drugged up landing.


    It could not have but it did. The bar had gotten even lower. It could not have possibly gotten worse after two practically naked vulnerable little brats somehow ran straight into the disaster zone as he was just managed to get Amar''s heart to lungs to start again.


    Then like the possibly suicidal brat that he is, the kid takes off the filter to his own mouth for the others. Not like it helped much.


    Too long, too much poison circulating through his overworked system, again.


    He knew best how overdosed that kid was at any time. At every meal, at every serving, how mislabeled the ingredients were. How there was bound to be three, hell ten times the dosage written down versus how much was actually being ingested. HE had been through his master''s ''mislabeling'' himself many times over, but never to this extreme of an extent.


    In a way yes he knew that boy''s body was different. The poison eventually integrating like a natural part of him rather than the foreign invader that it really was. If anyone could feasibly survive this painfully suicidal plan of theirs, it was that that kid.


    They survived.


    Burns, smoke and collateral damage from out nowhere, they had still survived.


    Somehow survival was not the hardest part.


    He shouldn''t have played the heavens like that. If he dares ask how it could get any worse, well here he is. Called in the aftermaths by Lord Ventrella himself.


    Vincent feels like it would be easier to just dig his own grave, fill it with sharp pointy bones and hop right down for an eternal nap than to deal with this.


    \"My my my, some very convenient string of coincidences indeed? What a deed, for all these contracts and forms to survive.\" tsked the young lord, hardly a decade older than Vincent himself.


    He had the sort of face that other men just loved to hate, Vincent, being no exception. Condescending in his beauty, a despicable serpent sitting lofty in glory and riches beyond every hero wannabee''s dreams. The young Lord Ventrella made the common man shake in a hazardous mix of fear, inferiority, and constant self doubt.


    He left one asking: does he know and how much was he simplifying toying with you?


    All of it. The answer to anyone with half a brain and not living under a rock was all of it. There were populations of people who cowered and bent their souls, not just their knees, under the weight of the Biccheiri banner. This was no mere golden statue, but the famed terror it was built upon all condensed in one man. The man that held the hand of Lord Commander''s only daughter and heir in his vice grip, wielding true power beyond the realms of simple strength or class.


    Anything and everything Vincent says at this point was damnation to himself. He''s too tired to think, to plan an escape. His plots and contingency plans have all be used up in this one burst, this entire week. Unexpected disasters one after the other, usually in the form of small children.


    He never should have had anything to do with kids. Should have ignored the brat on day one. He was terrible with them and now look where it landed him.


    \"If I may, to answer your lordship, these files and seals were stored elsewhere due to the current case in court. All were transferred, copied and presented prior to the....disaster which has fallen.\" Vincent''s speech slowed with heart forced heartbeat.


    There was no use in lying, in getting away with this unscathed. But he would be a damned fool asking to be tortured if he just gave himself, themselves, away just like that.


    Amar had already taken the brunt physical force of the plan. Now that the kid had tagged out, quite physically, it was his turn. This much he could at least do, even if he rather be anywhere else. Preferably underground, somewhere deep, dark and just away. This was too much drama and just feelings in general for an introvert like him.


    \"Yes, quite unfortunate....your master had just ''walked'' from the first part of his case too. I assume that the second will be unable to proceed.\"


    Lord Ventrella looked almost bored, leafing through the paperwork his manservant gingerly organized and presented. His posture was relaxed, a face absurdly more beautiful than most women was slumped into one fine glove. To any outsider looking it, it was hardly intimidating.


    Yet all that Vincent had ever wanted, ever worked for, lay in thin sheets between those deadly gloved hands. Sharp golden eyes tracing over the spread out sheets on the desk.


    \"I can''t deny, that this cleans everything up quite well. Normally the estate and assets would go to the next of kin, but seeing as there''s no dead to proceed that''s not necessary. Madam Damia appears to not be in all the best condition herself as of late. No these are all more than enough to transfer everything to your own name. Cleaner and easier to process, rather it serves my own interests quite well if you truly took over your master''s depleted department, not that there are many capable candidates behind you. What a blessing it is, that the man lives to bless your ascent. \"


    \"It would appear that way, given the circumstances.\" grits Vincent, careful with every word, balancing precariously on the line.


    \"A sheer miracle, I would say, if I didn''t understand just how much work you put into your research. Into the art of healing. How far it can extend, without a speck of magic.\" he makes to snap, thick volumes and scrolls of nothing, everything, spilled out over the desk. \"It is not a thankful nor easy field. It is then, with my utmost sincerity, that I praise the scientific progress made here. Death is not the end. The world may scorn and bury it in their fearful ignorance but I admire what you''ve done.\"


    \"....Tis nothing but my duty, your words are too much of an honor for someone of my position.\" Vincent keeps the stuttering to a minimum, tongue going cold when cut from the feeling nerves.


    \"Oh not at all. You deserve credit where credit is due....tell me....how many years of work have you published under your Master''s name? Has been stolen from you?\"


    Vincent feels frozen in the limbs, a fault of his own. Yet he cannot suppress the shiver in his spine, the tremble to goes to the base of his skull under that golden gaze. How poised and put together was that manservant alone. He felt like being eaten was inevitable, it was merely the predator playing with its food. If he hadn''t spelled himself in a near rigor mortis calm, Vincent was afraid his legs would have already failed him.


    \"It is true then, that nothing can pass your astute eye Lord Ventrella. I am but a mere disciple of an unknown dark art. My lifeline relies on the sparse branches above me. What my master has provided. If he says write then I must write, if he says jump then I may only ask how high. Without his...mercy... I may not even breathe, let alone work and eat.\"


    Even in the low but many candlelit lights, subtle scarlet could be seen. Vincent doesn''t think he''s exaggerating when he thinks it looks like his own dripping blood. Lord Ventrella wasn''t even looking at him as he spoke, far more interested in the detailed anatomical sketches. Of dissected beings, humans and beasts and all the little beings in between. Anything that once contained life, broke apart layer by layer. Forever imprinted into wax sealed parchment and ink, so long that the material may last.


    \"It is fine work. There is no wonder why a man would be tempted to claim it for his own, to keep talent such as yours in the dark to farm. A very representative and literal draining of your life''s blood.\"


    The already thin line tightens even tighter, Vincent doesn''t know how long he can keep walking it for this man''s amusement.


    \"Oh there''s no need to be so tense. I have to congratulate you on your attention to detail, a rather masterful plot and smart use in sticky fire. Unable to be put out by water and hidden in the toxic disaster that was the fuel. \"


    \"....Your lordship, this humble disciple was nowhere near the scene at the start. Your words...hold weight beyond anything I can afford to counter, even in innocence.\"


    \" Of course you weren''t, you''re too smart for that. There''s more than enough setup motives and means on that sniveling worm you were forced to call master. He was well known for his messes. It is not in my interest to drag you out screaming from the dark, who may or may not have started it. Again, all the easier for me. Isn''t that right Alfonso?\"


    The manservant grins pleasantly behind the neatly trimmed beard, a slight bend and nod in his otherwise straight countenance.


    \"Indeed my Lord, it is a bit...disappointing that our young lady''s illness could not be avenged personally. But the results are more than satisfactory at no cost to our own. The healers are marveled how he still breathes and retains all sense of consciousness. Healing of any kind shall be a long endeavor, the man is paralyzed yet continues to sense and feels. Never to speak let alone move on his own again, confined to his own body so long as the nutrient tubes keep his natural body alive. \"


    \"A clean job. I would have done it better myself but a clean and well done job none the less. Any physical evidence up in flames, playing dead with these deeds till the time comes. I''m sure there''s a plot that Damia next. There is hope in the next line, no?\"


    \"Indeed my Lord.\"


    Just end him, Vincent felt himself begging the gods he doesn''t believe in. Just kill him and get it over with. This was too awful for his nerves, his own wrecked stomach to handle.


    \"Alfonso I''m afraid the lad has had a long day. Well it''s been a long week for us all. Bring out the documents and wrap this up. I''m expected home by 9 lest my wife has a fit again.\"


    \"Yes my Lord.\"


    A scroll longer than a man unfurls, the contents squished thin and cramped even in elegant seals. Vincent feels a migraine coming on. There''s no need for reading, as the paper curls around his body, the touch translating all contents straight to his brain. He jolts, reels from the sudden hammering of mass information. Stiff knees knocking, he''s forced to break out of the soldier''s rest in order to balance himself from falling. Still having enough sense to do that much.


    \"Vincent...it appears to me that my troublesome daughter is quite fond of you and your experiments, sharing her allowance so unrestrainedly. All for good reasons now that I had a chance to take a look for myself. You''re not a fool. Why I say you''ve done rather well for yourself in your circumstance.\"


    The Lord rises from his seat, gloved hand twirling a feather pen tip as if it were a plaything. He makes his way personally around the desk to where the edges of the scroll finally release itself. Standing over Vincent''s now shaken frame.


    \"I meant what I said. I do enjoy your work, in fact I would like to support you not to reveal as you so fear. There are many lines of opportunity for you, with varying degrees of danger of course. Should you so wish to take them. I only require your utmost loyalty.\"


    His wrist is gripped, a press in the right spots shocks Vincent into opening up his previously clenched hand. Blood and warmth rushing back in when it shouldn''t have. The feather pen is placed into his open palm. One by one those long gloved fingers closes his own.


    \" This is your chance, swear your loyalty and work for me personally. I''ll allow you to stay and play with my dear daughter as if nothing had ever happened, after all there is no ''proof'' of your actions.You just need to tell me everything \"


    A voice smoother than the silk that clothes it, promising the very same vein of hatefully envious riches. Far more than what he''s set fire to land. Those hands personally guide his own right to the red dotted line.


    \"In your own set time and terms, give me everything. What you''ve done, what my Rosalia is making you do, what you need. Just let it go and I shall handle the rest.\"


    Vincent shakes, personally he wants this. This was the chance of a lifetime, there were no stipulations, nothing he has to sacrifice further, nothing he can''t do.


    Except.


    \"...Don''t....don''t go after him.\"


    \"What''s that?\" smiles the Lord, acting magnanimously. As if he sincerely didn''t understand even after all the information he must have gathered behind his man servent''s sleeve.


    \"It was all me. I planned everything, I benefitted the most and dragged whoever I could into this. So don''t...\"


    \"Oh of course. The brat! How could I have forgotten?\"


    It was impossible to miss how his wrist tightened, how bone creaked and trembled. When his fingertips started bleeding, he doesn''t know, can''t feel it under all this pressure. If the teenager wasn''t so focused on himself and the intimidating hand on his, he might have noticed a heaving sigh and tired shake of the head from the manservant.


    \"Don''t worry, you can tell me all about the brat later on. Every single little detail. I wouldn''t require all that if I was going to kill him now? Though it would be preferable if he disappeared. \"


    \"...Can you do that? Can you get him away? Somewhere safe...away from this place?\" his stutter came back, words shakily spilling out.


    \"Well...\" Frederick grimaces, already displeased at his own circumstance, \" if my wife allows it.\"


    Vincent signs the line, blood and all, before his body finally gives.


    -----------


    -------


    ----


    \"Achoo! Oh dear, it''s chilly in here!\"


    Despite her furs and no indication beforehand, mother sneezes and shivers. With a clap of her hand, the fireplace is further fueled, giving the sickbay a toasty air.


    \"Achoo!\" she sneezes daintily again, taking an embroidered handkerchief to her nose.


    I suspect she may have caught something in the whirlwind that was today. From being an exhibitionist in her nightgown this morning to riding the whole snow-laden way to the troops on horseback. It could be anything.


    As if it were contagious, Amar sneezes too. Huh, maybe it is colder than I thought in here? I wouldn''t know, I''m good in my blanket and tiny pillow fort. Unlike my mother''s normal reaction, it looks like it physically hurts the boy to sneeze and he''s gripped with holding it in. His breathing harsh and thin little frame huffing as red flushes his warm face.


    He looks absolutely pathetic and that immediately wins him +200 cuteness points in mother''s book.


    \"Oh dear!\" she fusses, bouncing around from his bedside. Doing nothing but making the little occupant even more uncomfortable fearful around my mother.


    Which is fair, given that''s my own reaction to her.


    Despite being a mother of two small children herself, she carefully tucks and observes the boys how one would watch newborn kittens in the animal shelter. All sparkly eyes and full or grossly cute awwwwws.


    Hey mother, not to sound petty but uh, your own child is right here. Hello? Mother? Mother please stop staring like that, you''re making Amar shake even more. Mother.....there''s no extra mochi fat on him?


    No matter how unsatisfying it must be to pinch and abuse the frightened silly child, my mother still continues to do so with those sparkling eyes. When Amar lets out a teary hiccup at getting violated, voice sounding like a doomed baby animal, I swear I hear a high pitched internal scream rumbling from her chest. She takes a few breathes to recover, popping a nearby pillow to everyone''s great surprise. Amar does his best to make himself even smaller, inching away lest he be that pillow next.


    Which given this rate, seems likely.


    The hiding in bedsheets does nothing but to make the child look even tinier and cuter, peeks of fluffy brown hair and soft skin still tempting my mother to hug and squish. When she''s seemingly satisfied, she rushes right over to feel up my own cheeks and delicate toddler softness.


    \"Hmmm.\" mother hums, squishing me entirely.


    It would be ticklish if it wasn''t so terrifying, maybe painful. I feel like a ball of fresh mochi getting worked into shape. Ow ow ow oh my poor cheeks. I can only waddle my arms in mad protest, given my current condition. A bizarre chanting resounds from mother''s mouth like she''s in a trance, something that sounds like \"cute cute cute oh my own child is also very cute very good, different good but still very very good cute.\"


    Either from my own used up fight or mother''s boredom, she drops me back on the bed before moving onto the next subject.


    Lukas is the readiest challenger, the thickest and squishiest, the only one left in mother''s odd game. The boy looks ready for the fight, puffing up his chest in that frilly white baby chemise. However, when clean and groomed, his cloudy almost white hair sits straight and tamed, decreasing his total size and intimidation factor. Clear bright eyes look straight to the hugging pinching beast, something I don''t know if I should call brave or stupid. From under the protection of covers, Amar peeks out, watching the tense start to the final round.


    It''s mother that attacks first!


    \"Kyaaaaaa so cuteeeees!


    She squeezes and squishes, Lukas'' body mass molding to her monsterous hands. Something that would have me choking by now, yet he does not go down. Using that mochi sumo mass, he grips back! It''s a chest bump, he''s put his whole weight into it and grapples!


    The high pitched ''kyaaaa'' roar cannot be contrained, mother has gone into a frenzies battle mode. Flinging the poor child back and forth in a high speed momentum, aka a snuggle! How will Lukas counter this one?!


    He hangs on, stubborn and strong. Oh the brave fool. He goes for the neck, both steadying himself by position and ensuring no more blockage to his airways. He''s already going pink in the face from the fight, a clear sign of damage taken but Lukas is anything but an easy quitter. From his slippery half hazardous grip, he gives a squeeze, a brave thumbs up towards the audience.


    Amar shakes his head, already giving up on the boy. Though it was a worthy fight, it''s too late, stage three has activated. He shouldn''t have hugged back.


    \"HUGGIES!!! KYAAAA~ ? ?* ? ?* Oh you''re so precious!!!!\"


    It''s the mini tornado, the spin of death! Mother can barely hold herself in, hearts already radiation out of her, the biggest one in her open mouth. Even if Lukas wasn''t held tight in her grip, he would be sucked in by the gravitational force alone.


    Oh I can''t watch. Down under the covers I go. RIP Lukas, it was nice knowing you. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.


    \"Buttercup, there''s word that young Frederick has passed through the first gate and.....Maria....dear....what are you doing to Lukas?\"


    Gable! Blessed be Gable we are saved!


    \"Oh Gabbey! ? \" halts my mother, sparing someone''s life.


    All of a sudden though, she makes a very strange expression. Her innocently blank face going looking from a swirly eyes Lukas, hair back to full fluff, to a silently confused Gable. She squints, holding the defeated mochi in her arms even closer, as if to get a better look at his eyelashes then back to Gable. For comparison, she even holds him up in a puppy hold.


    \"Gabbey dear? Did you and papa somehow manage to...\" she starts, shaking the almost unconscious child, as if that was somehow both the question and answer.


    Gable gives a choked cough, but not before swiftly rescuing a limp Lukas from her grasps. Once again Lukas has escaped death, he may live to see another day. It might be the distress at an unresponsive Lukas but he looks to be turning almost just a pink. That or I''m just imagining things.


    \"Very funny Maria. Now let''s not....stress... out the children any further.\"


    \"Oh, of course, Gabbey!\" despite what she says, mother''s hands are already inching their way back to Amar''s bed.


    An absolutely adorable whine of fear and panic comes from underneath those covers and pillows, stiffening the strange expression on mother''s face even further. I can imagine the terrified tears that must be under there. While I do support the idea of punishing the little troublemaker in some manner, perhaps sicking mother on him is a bit extreme.


    \"Ahem, I''ll see them and their conditions now Maria. No need to tire yourself further. In fact, your husband might be in need of a good rest from the aftermath he''s been cleaning up after.\" once again Gable saves the day. Easily picking up the shivering puppy dog out from his covers and effectively protecting him from any further ''huggies'' from mother.


    Mother gets one last sorrowful squeeze of bare mochi cheeks, and an earlobe, before nodding and accepting that the boys need their rest.


    Before she leaves she must, unfortunately, must squeeze out the last bits of life from me with a hug and some sloppy kisses before brightening up. \"Oh of course,\" she mumbles, petting my hair a little too intently, the invisible hearts already returning.


    \"Good night now Rosalia. Be good and don''t let anyone steal you out of bed, even your papa. Oh I''ll see to that fiend tonight!\" mother smacks me goodnight with her lips one last time, however at the mention of my father she licks those bright lips and looks even scarier.


    Mother, I don''t think that''s what Gable means by rest. Mother? Oh forget it, she''s gone, skipping her way down and out.


    My mother is a very strange person?


    Actually, the title extends to every single one of Rosalia''s family members. Everyone. Lilyanne is only a child but she''s already quite....special. I already knew about her airheaded personality but I have to work hard in order to curb her easily influenced self in the right direction. Grampa can''t be helped, it''s grampa. He''s most certainly more violent and ridiculous towards me than before. Everything from baby flinging to laundry washing. I''m most certainly developing a thicker skin from all this ''training'', not that I have much choice. Don''t even get me started on the nerd.


    Hey hey miss original, are you still in there? Explain to me how this occurred? What happened to that neat and proper noble family huh? I''m begining to fear it''s not just my own meddling and Lilyanne''s health that''s changing things around here. What''s going on?


    Silence, the only sound I get belongs to Lukas'' grunting cries at Gable. Typical.


    From a bed away I watch the three souls who the original had near nothing to do with. Like a patient angel, Gable looks down on the boys. Inspecting a deceptively sweet and gentle looking little boy on the bed while the energetic mochi like cherub snuggles into arm.


    Outliers. Each and every one of them.


    Somehow they have each integrated themselves into this present life. Gable, of course, was a lucky blessing. The primary schoolers? Eeehhhh it somehow just happened? Why are they still around? Why do I even allow it?


    Really, I was not expecting any of this a year ago?.


    The sight of their faces has somehow become familiar over this short amount of time but now that I think about it, it''s very odd. Ahh but because the kids are high levels of cute I''ll let it go for now. If it''s from a safe faraway distance and they''re all nice and clean, the boys are very pleasant looking kiddies. True little shotas with their own cute flavors. Plop on some fake angel wings and they make some not half bad accompaniments to Gable''s godly glowing beauty.


    From the bed Amar shivers, tugging at Gable''s attention while pointing to me and ducking back out of sight. When Lukas looks back curiously, he immediately stiffens in Gable''s arms, tensing and huffing to make himself look bigger for a fight. The little lump that in Amar steathily worms its way behind Gable, as if trying to get even further away.


    Really now, so rude.


    \"Rosalia...are you alright?\" Gable asks, looking too good when concerned.


    Ah the sight of such handsomeness is healing my internal organs already. But I''m fine for the most part, besides the obvious? I can''t voice it so I tilt my head in questioning, making sure I show my best angles. Can''t lose out on the boys in cuteness here. Not against Gable. I have full confidence in my cute face, it''s Lilyanne''s copy after all.


    \"Your mouth....\"


    Hmm? I make to pat my face at Gable''s words. Oh how unsightly of me! Gable just made too good looking of a scene I may have gaped and drooled a bit.


    Oh dear.


    I make to clean myself up but it''s too late. Amar is cowering away, unwilling to even peek out while Lukas is trying to get down there with him. Even Gable is giving me a strange look. Ahhhhhh that shame! What have I done? What kind of weird expression did I make?


    Eh even if it was weird is there any reason to act that far?


    Ahhh it looks like I have already made my bed. Now I will simply have to lie in it. Down hidden under the covers I go, following the kiddies'' example. Good night!


    ------

 100 Not so easy Lemon Butter Cake

    Lalalala~ I can speak again! Yay!


    Unfortunately so can Lukas, not so yay.


    Our voices are back without the burning pain that accompanies speech. How wonderful. Our poisoning wasn''t all that bad then.... Ok that''s a lie.


    It''s thanks for Gable and all the emergency treatment we received on site the day we passed out that reduced the negative effects of the gas poisoning. We''re still being kept under close observation but for the most part Lukas and I, in our limited poisoning, are up again. Good to go!


    Amar? Eh not so much, he''s till stuck with the chalk slate. Which is only fair. A sort of divine retribution to when he temporarily silenced my tongue with his stupid tampered candy. Let''s see how you like it on the other side of the slate now.


    Though we''ve pretty much gotten used to them as of late. My handwriting got a little better with all the practice.


    It''s been a mostly silent three days of detoxing, riding out fevers and playing chalkboard games. I really need to make some better indoor games. Can we get some board games in here at least? Some jenga? Though I don''t think my father would appreciate the blocks.


    If anything we all got better at Pictionary. I think? That or pantomiming. It''s hard to play when silent.


    During this sensitive time in our recovery, even my parents were put on a Gable''s ''gentle'' sort of orders. Thank you. Please don''t let mother eat me or my minions.


    I may be her child but I think mother is particularly...keen on seeing the kiddies. In no way do I envy the treatment, but I can''t help but notice there''s a considerable difference in torture ''huggies'' length, enthusiasm, and duration. A rather long and terrifying experience if she manages gets her grabby hands on either one of the boys.


    A part of me is curious why neither I nor Lilyanne gets such intense treatment, but this is not an experiment I wish to see through. It''s just not safe.


    I admit, I somewhat understand where she''s coming from. When they''re not being wild monsters outside, the boys are very cute children, even in comparison to other mochis their age.


    It is in my best interest then, to cultivate this cuteness.


    One, as a sacrifice to the great mother. What excellent distractions and shields the boys make. I never intended on this effect beforehand but now seeing it in person, they make excellent bait against my mother and her infamous hugs. Two.....I''m just bored.


    There''s only so much you can play on the chalkboard, especially when no one can talk, much less scream. Some very frustrating games of pictionary.


    These past few days across the window and on the chalkboard, I put in the kiddy clothing orders.


    Cloth isn''t anywhere as easy to get as I''m used to, due to production cost and just labor in general. We''re in the age of handmade everything. That means practically all clothing is tailor made, measurements and all.


    It''s not out of nowhere. The regular tailors and seamstresses also have a few of my drafts from before when I commissioned my own things or Alfonso''s butler jacket or stuff for my sla- errr I mean Georgie and Abbey.


    Amazing what an apron skirt with a wider range of mobility has done to reduce Abbey''s clumsiness levels. It''s not like I''ve gotten a lot of work done in the tailoring department but medieval fashion is noticeably inconvenient for both sexes. Underwear is expensive and most common people go without. They wear their nightclothes, day and night, underneath a layer or three of outerwear.


    Fabulous right? I get it, I was once a generally ignorant modern person. Medieval times and old-timey wear makes me think of sexy tv outfits and sexy corset barmaid costumes with the girls just spilling out of there. Like most of reality, that is not how it goes. Thankfully.


    Hell, I don''t think they have the sewing techniques to make some of that stuff possible let along feasible. For most of my servant women, it goes from that staple undergarment smock, to an economically cut kirtle, then a tunic or some sort of outer vest and side tied dress. All belted together, maybe more than a few times in between loose layers. In the kitchens or laundry rooms, they wear an additional usually undecorated apron. Married or working women in head coverings of some sort, for both modesty and cleanliness. It really is a simple cut and set of clothes but common women such as farmwives and villagers wear even less in terms of layers.


    All without pockets.


    For shame! Everyone needs pockets!


    Instead of the complicated art of just sewing in pockets, people wear purses on their belts. How ...stealable.


    With all those layers, especially to keep warm in the winter, it''s no wonder Abbey is so uncoordinated. Or well....even further uncoordinated. Long flat layers of skirts, very trip risky, also no pockets for anything!


    Since I''ve already taken in this child, I guess I''m responsible for her. That includes clothing her. She''s the kind of kid that saves all of her pay to send back to her parents and siblings. Huh didn''t she say she came from a milling family? How does that work in the capital? Well, I''ll just ask her next time we''re stuck waiting out the soap mix.


    Dark-colored clothes are best for Abbey, they cover up any spills she may have made. We''re getting closer to a classic looking maid outfit. Something practical and a little indulgently cute, so long as they don''t impair her actually doing her job. To be honest, her clumsiness is sort of the ultimate dummy test run for any of my clothes that seamstresses try making. I feel a little bad that most of her ''new'' clothing is made from scraps. I feel even worse that she gets so sob worthy grateful on them, as if I had blessed another world''s house elf with some used socks. But hey, it''s practice for the tailors and saves cost when something fails the clumsy maid durability test. Which happens a lot ...we''re working on it. Sleeves and stuff are hard to make well ok?


    Understandably the instructions and patterns of what I want are confusing to craftsmen, partly because they''ve never been seen before.


    The armor makers and tailors housed at grampa''s troops are much more willing to play and experiment with new things than regular craftsmen. They''re also just a lot better at improvising and working with different materials, more out of necessity than anything. It''s still a learning curve in what works and what doesn''t.


    Also, why can''t women wear pants or something down there? Is it the high cost of comfy fabric? Come on, at least some drawers. With my clumsy maid, I feel that it''s absolutely a necessity to make and provide those as well. Oh dear, isn''t Abbey at ...''that'' age for a girl...she''s still quite childlike and just as flat but she''s already 13....okay adding on some more orders.


    This is just ''girl''s'' clothing, boys and men are other issues. Again, a great learning curve.


    Ultimately everything is made for my own selfish reasons. It''s not like I expect nobles to be flocking to sweaters and jeans. All of it is to comfortably clothe myself and to hopefully make everyone around me less ugly. It''s not so bad right now because I''m just a toddler but old school clothes just aren''t all that comfortable or easy to wear.


    There is also a sore lacking of cute!


    So, from the draft designs I might have made for myself, modified a bit to account for the primary schoolers'' age and sizes, we have....new clothes!


    Man, these minions sure have it good just by associating with me. Fresh outfits for them to accentuate that cute kiddy charm. Also, their small sizes are just easier to work with. Do you know how many kiddy outfits can be made from just one of mother''s old forgotten gowns? Less cloth, less waste, more experimentation!


    There''s no need to keep on ''trend'' with the current times. Cute clothes are cute, even better if they''re actually wearable and not stiffly ugly. I''m not just playing dress up here, it''s honest research in boys'' clothing and future pieces for myself. I''m doing the world a great favor by innovating some convenient fashion here.


    The dress-up was a bonus.


    Lukas has a few more things in his closet with Gable but Amar is sorely lacking. Luckily mother has many easily missed items to recycle and Georgie has been ready for this project for a long time coming.


    \"Rosalia....I think it''s time to calm down. The tailors can only remake so many items on such short notice.\" says Georgie, who I''m not so sure is even a jr. chef anymore.


    \"Awwww. I was just starting to have fun.\"


    \"I know. I was too.\"


    Right now he''s looking more like a fashion production assistant than my jr. chef. Underneath one of his usual layered vests is one of mother''s untouched hideous dresses, deconstructed into a thick high neck top suitable for teen assistant. Fitted trousers with a hint of stripes refitted from his earlier shopping purchases. A too-thin layer of trim turned into a layered infinity scarf, instantly giving a modern look despite the lacking materials. A little tester in hair pomade that''s honestly doing such a good job I''m considering gifting a vat to father.


    It''s a look! A fashionable look that''s both practical and much easier on the eyes! He just needs a clipboard and some coffee to be my perfect assistant.


    More than anyone else, he''s the child that supports me the most in all my endeavors, whether he wants to or not. Luckily clothing is something he''s 300% invested in. Since that raid mission all the way back, he''s been very into comfy pants. At first, I feared he had shopaholic tendencies, but it''s not like he''s ever made a bad non-economical purchase. A savvy shopper and a smart dresser, when given the chance.


    To bad our chances are still limited due to materials. I can always scout and recycle more of my mother''s overdone untouched closet items but those are better off saved for custom commissioned fashion pieces than any testers or basics. Till the spring and summer rolls of cloths are made available!


    We only got some of the boy''s outfits done but it''s not bad on this limited time. It really is just faster and easier to make things kid sized.


    \" I like it!\" models Lukas, looking warm in baggy overalls and layers of a plain shirt and slightly too large hoodie.


    It''s so out of place in this world but oh so simple and good, so boyishly cute. Cuteness rules the world! The overalls are made of very sturdy material to withstand Lukas level action with buckles and pinned hems to account for future growth. Pockets for stuff and a lot of space of embroidery patches if Gable so chooses to bless them. He just needs some kid sized sneakers and the look is perfect. Yes. Writing that down.


    ''I like it. Looks comfy'' writes down Amar on his slate.


    He feels the soft inner hood on Lukas'' back a little enviously before looking back down to his own outfit in dissatisfaction. He even dares to give me a confused but accusing little look. Why if I didn''t know better I would say it was even a tad hostile!


    Oh hohoho! Revenge looks all too good!


    Opposite to Lukas'' finale outfit of comfortable streetwear casual with the softest linings, Amar has finally been all cleaned and dolled up.... into sailor suit!


    Yes yes yes a little kiddy sailor suit! A must-have classic for any child. Those little brass gold-buttoned blue shorts to allow for a child''s constant growth, tiny shin socks, the iconic adorable collar with striped on stipes for no functional reason. It''s a real fancy sailor suit! An overly detailed sailor suit made more for land than sea, for the aesthetics. All topped with a red tiny ribbon on a bowed hat!


    ''My legs are cold'' he holds out the sign, moe sleeves too long on his thin frame.


    Amar''s lip can''t help pouting, face puzzled, especially at the primary school shorts. Something Lukas takes curious amusement in smacking at the exposed tiny thighs.


    \"Needs more bacon!\" he declares, pinching and announcing the lack of mochi fat.


    ''I wanna switch.'' reads the sign.


    \"No way, this one is mine. And that one -\" Lukas tugs at the lovely bow tie on Amar''s sailor collar \"is yours!\" then cartwheels himself away, passing the suspender''s durability test, before Amar could write out another complaint. Or kick him again.


    I''m going to die...from cuteness!


    I really outdid myself on this design. It''s overdone and quite silly in my draft, but on the kid, it''s just overwhelmingly loveable. The power of the sailor suit is already quite formidable. It''s almost like a child''s proper school uniform if not for all the purposefully left on frills and detailing. This is the power of kids and cute!!! Too powerful!


    ''Can I change now?'' pops up the next message, Amar is fast on that thing.


    \"Nooooooooo!\" goes Lukas.


    \"Nope.\" relies Georgie, fixing the little hat on Amar''s head.


    \"Don''t you dare.\" I beam, giving him my honest maybe sadistic smile. What a shame we have no cameras. If we took him to a convention or such event, he''s be swarmed with photographers. That''s how good the look is.


    Oh ho ho ho~ What''s wrong? Are you not pleased with the minion employee benefits? This is a one of a super cute- I mean kind of outfit. I don''t know how much it would cost if we sold it but it took ripping apart two dresses and purse to make this sailor suit. I don''t know how well the people of this world will take it but Georgie just awwed and cooed over it earlier. As adorably humiliating as it may be, the materials are still quite good and the construction is meant to be easy to move in.


    \"Don''t be mean Rosalia, it''s cold.\" motions Georgie for Amar to sit down so he can remove the little buckle shoes.


    I almost shout out my orders to leave it because come on, how many chances do I have to get back at Amar? After all the drama of this winter? Also, it''s a perfectly fine outfit! I''m planning on commissioning the Lukas version after this.


    \"We just need to change to knee socks. Now what color?\" grins Georgie, holding Amar''s now bare foot like a Cinderella, as he decides.


    The small boy doesn''t struggle but he looks upon us like we''re incredibly cruel beings. Using him all morning as a dress-up doll.


    Which is the entire point!


    Out of some sense of mercy at Amar''s baby shiver, Georgie eases the teasing to roll down the shorts to a mid-shin length, buttoning them off. See, I said it was functional.


    Shame there''s no more outfits to try on. There a few casual pieces, some actual pajamas and armor scraps that would last through the boys'' rough lifestyle, but how can that compare to the cuteness of a sailor suit? Alright, I''ve made up my mind. Move fashion recycling up the priority list. Do it while Amar is still sick and trapped in my house''s sickbay on Gable''s orders.


    I need my revenge.


    Well to the kitchens! I''m feeling peckish and antsy to get out of here.


    Just like last time, it''s only Lukas and I that have recovered to an acceptable standard for release. For everyone''s own good, Amar should be locked up like the absolute criminal that he is.


    \"You. Stay there. \" I instruct the still ill boy.


    From the seat where Georgie is playing Cinderella on his foot, Amar does that cute head tilt of his. It''s especially devastating today in the ribboned sailor hat and collar. Maybe I gave him too much power in the cute department? The sailor suit must be used wisely. He looks to be considering it before he scribbles a simple ''okay'' on the chalk slate.


    Ha, like we can trust that.


    \"No, you really need to stay there. Get it? No running off. No getting into weird poison danger. No starting fires. No-\"


    \"No hide and seek tricks!!! Oi all you funny guard people outside and the funnier ones hiding in the rafters, you can''t play hide and seek with Amar! He cheats! Okay? No letting him out!\"


    Thank you Lukas. Absolutely amazing train of thought....hey wait there are people in the rafters? You''re joking right? Well I mean my father''s guards can be anywhere, I know that, but seriously, what?


    When did they get up there?


    ''8am'' writes Amar, holding up the bad comedy sign to my muttering.


    He blinks a few times to think before adding on in smaller font ''they switched shifts'', followed by an ''I didn''t start any fires?''


    \"...Uh huh, I will just ignore how you know about the guards'' shifts.\"


    I don''t even bother with the arson defense plea. Just because we''re not grilling him about it anymore doesn''t mean I believe it. I mean, wow what a coincidence, the crazy hoody man is the only casualty in his own spontaneous lab fire. A toxic chemical fire that just needed this one conveniently escaped poison resistant kid to play timely rescue. Sure. Uh huh.


    \"It''s your house Rosa! You don''t know bout them?!\" points Lukas, up and around.


    \"Yeah, but security doesn''t always follow me around in the rafters.\"


    \"But you don''t know that they''re there?!\"


    ''Rosa is small and weak at sensing things.'' reads the interrupting sign. True but rude.


    \"There are guards in the rafters?\" Georgie looks up, repeating my earlier reaction, trying in vain to spot anything amiss.


    Well good for them and professionalism. I thought the number of guards went up late, and for good reason. They''re a little early in the timeline but hey there was no giant troops fire in my memory. Or anything related to the troublemaker minions. Just as long as they don''t block me in my business that''s fine, do your silent jobs.


    Georgie looks split. His options being staying to coo over dress-up doll edition Amar or leaving to supervise the hell that Lukas and I could possibly raise in the kitchens. He''s tempted, he really is, you can see the mother like sparkle and struggle in his eyes. The allure of the small pile of kiddy clothes is right there to mix and match. But in the end, the fear of leaving Lukas and I alone around food outweighs everything.


    Fine with me.


    \"To the kitchens! Except you Amar. Stay. Be good. We will be back but you stay right in this very room. Got it?!\" I yell out that last part to any guard who might be listening in. Orders are orders when they come from my mouth. \"And no taking off the sailor suit.\"


    The named boy pouts, looking very much like a well frosted gingerbread cookie, but nods in agreement and waves us off with a flip of the sign.


    ''Bring back sweets''


    Then off we go! There''s a short cut from the sickbay to the kitchens but it''s too small for someone Georgie''s age and height to take. So the long way it is, aka the dramatic swirling stairs.


    \"Race ya!\"


    \"That''s very unsafe Lukas.\" voices Georgie.


    \"If you fall you don''t stop, you just roll and roll and spin down the whole way.\" I deadpan.


    Instead of that scaring him he just disappointedly \"awwwws\" while looking down the spiral longingly. We get maybe three steps down when the next genius idea hits him.


    \"What if I ice it?\"


    \"Lukas no-\"


    \"What if you what?\" shouts Georgie but it''s too late. We should have just taken the creaky lift.


    It''s not smooth, nothing like how easy Gable makes it look, rather Lukas shakes his small wrists like he''s unblocking a pen, three or four times. That''s still too fast to do anything as the steps right below his not yet snazzy shoes turns into, you guessed it, a slide. A narrow tube slide of ice shot out right in the middle of the stairs. What a hazard.


    \"Whaaaahhhhhooooo!!!\" yelps and cheers the living hazard, voice growing distant as he instantly slips and slides before anyone can grab him.


    \"WHAT!!?!\"


    It is at this moment that Georgie first witnesses, or even learns, that Lukas can do that. Hey what happened to keeping the ice magic secret?! Lukas you reckless baby fool. Gable won''t be happy about this.


    I peek over the banister ledge, carefully listening for any yelps of pain and disaster. Hearing nothing but the satisfied whooping of one not so secret baby Jack Frost I eye the ice slide warily.


    But like...it''s already there so.....


    \"Oh my goddess what?!! What the-....Rosalia....Rosalia step away from that.\"


    \"....If anyone asks, we keep quiet and say it was grampa''s fault. Great talk Georgie.\"


    \"What talk?!! Rosalia don''t you dare take another step towards that death trap.\"


    From stories below, Lukas'' megaphone voice cheers and sounds very much still alive, it sounds like \"I''MMA DO THAT AGAIN!!!\"


    Actually, that''s exactly what he says. For he has obviously made it to the bottom of the very inconveniently placed slide.


    I do not take a step, per say but I do lift my foot while maintaining direct eye contact with Georgie. A tense second passes, followed by another. One of us will give and we all know the winning rate thus far.


    \"Ugh fine!\" facepalms Georgie, limp and whining as he allows me to drag him to the start of the dangerous slide. Do not repeat at home sort of material. Shame, this is already my house.


    Safety first! Seat the bigger person down first, then the smaller one can safely avoid a cold butt- I mean slide down snug and protected.


    \"Ugh why, why in the goddess is this happening?\" bemoans Georgie, probably still processing the fact that yes Lukas just made ice appear out of nowhere. There there now Georgie I understand, but we have a slide to test out.


    \"It''s all grampa''s fault, now push.\"


    \"....\"


    \"Onwards Georgie!''


    With a great sigh and a lot of nerves, he makes that final push, and we''re off!!!


    \"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!\"


    \"Whooooooo!!!\"


    I don''t really know how else you describe a 6 story spiral slide except that you pick up speed real fast and that''s awesome. In the middle of the screaming descent, we actually caught sight of a fired-up Lukas running up the stairs again. For round two of the ice slide I presume.


    All too soon, a still screaming Georgie and I made our final ice cold landing. That was sincerely quite fun. Too much work to climb all 6 flights of stairs back up to ride the thing again but I wouldn''t mind if we take the lift, even if it''s creaky. But we have a schedule to keep and snacks to eat.


    A few minutes after catching our breathes and slipping and sliding across the ice to safety, a laughing mochi boy comes crashing belly first. Outfit all still stable and in one piece, even from the ice slide, these overalls are really passing the Lukas durability test.


    \"Great, you had your fun. Now get rid of it!\" gasps Georgie, pulling up the boy from where he crash-landed into ice.


    \"I don''t know how!\" exclaims Lukas, all bright smiles and without a single care. Say, the fact that he just iced in front of someone else.


    \"What if Gable finds out?\" I not so subtly ask.


    \"Oh! Then....uh oh.\"


    We all slowly look up to the trailing ice, 6 stories high. A snake of cold fun and melting disaster. Lukas happy face instantly paling as the implications finally hits him. Ah minions, such simple creatures.


    \"Georgie will keep quiet but we gotta run to the kitchen now. If anyone asks -\"


    \"How is anyone NOT going to ask?!\" nags Georgie, interrupting me mid way.


    \"Ahem. If anyone asks, it''s all my grampa''s fault. He does a lot of weird stuff, a slide can''t be the worse of it.\"


    \"But...what about Gable?\" Lukas turns to me, fear and dread making him stiff, exactly like a naughty child caught red-handed. To that I give the wise advice of shrugging.


    \"You''re on your own there. Blame grampa?\"


    \"Blame Cap. Got it!\"


    \"Alright then, onwards to the kitchens.\"


    \"What is wrong with you two?!!\"


    I think a ''caution wet'' sign would be rather useful here but its'' not like we have one. Time to make a break for it. Either way, not my fault!


    Despite the nagging, it''s Georgie that''s the fastest in just getting us the hell out of there. Away from the scene of the crime. What a good getaway driver, though in this case it''s more just picking us kids up and running. See this is partly why Georgie just has to tag along, baby sitters have their duties.


    My return to the kitchens is nothing as special or glamorous as it should have been. Just a slamming of one of the side doors, Georgie panting heavily as he drops us to the floor. Ack, hey watch it, these clothes are new.


    The majority of the kitchen staff that are present, either on duty or taking their breaks, merely watch with a mixture of groans or indirect cheers. I even see money exchanging hands, some quite reluctantly.


    Hey did they bet how long it would take for me to return? Is that any way to treat your young miss everyone? For shame. This discipline here is just awful!


    It is time for another lesson.


    \"I want to make a cake.\" I declare, dusting off my skirt.


    Now that gets more of the reaction I''m looking for. People go silent, they go still, somewhere someone drops a pan with a clang. Then?


    Then they''re all over me. Oh ho ho ho! I''m the boss here. Worship me or you all get no new goodies. Near instantly I''m placed on the counter, the returned conductor to this tasty orchestra. With a whisk in my hand I begin the show.


    Okay fine, it''s just prep work.


    \"Cake! We''re making cakes! What kind of cake? Pancakes?! I make good pancakes, even Cap says so. Sweets! Will it have butter? It should have butter. All the best things have butter but cake has gotta have milk and butter.\"


    \"Someone, please,\" I instruct to the crowds, gesturing to the little chatterbox.


    It doesn''t take long for some cooing kitchen maids to pop on over to not only stuff Lukas'' mouth with today''s menu but to also pinch and squeeze at those mochi cheeks to their heart''s content. Eventually, Georgie has to regain his senses and come over to shoo them off. Lukas may be the sturdiest mochi but like most children, he doesn''t not appreciate being pinched to death. His childish arrogance and bouts of ''anger'' only making the kitchen maids awwww and fawn over him further.


    The power of cute is just too strong.


    But it''s something he''ll mostly stand for and take, especially with the distraction of food. To be honest, I don''t think he dislikes all the attention. Ah what a strange child. Oh I do see a pot of robollitta served for lunch in the kitchens today.


    Since I''m also feeling a bit peckish and it''s not good to bake on an empty stomach, I join him for half a bowl of bread soup.


    Ah winter fare. Stale bread and cut crusts gets turned into a cozy one pot dish with thick veggie soup. It''s even better if it''s leftover soup. Don''t expect to see this on the Ventrella main dinner table or in any fine dining. No this is the kitchen exclusive, the common comfort food! Fancy nobles begone, keep away from my leftover stew. Always better the next day, especially if it''s something as warm and addicting as bread soup.


    Though these days you may catch my father sneaking some in his office.


    Yes, I know all when it comes to the kitchen orders. I know what comes in and out for tea. My knowledge of the ins and outs of these kitchens is only lacking compared to the senior staff and Alfonso.


    \"So what cake are we making?!\" questions Lukas, his first bowl already inhaled. Wow, way to get Lukas to eat his vegetables.


    \"We?\"


    \"Yeah! We''re making Amar a cake!\"


    \"We are?\"


    \"Uh huh! He''s sick and he asked for something sweet so we''re bringing it and that''s what you do. Gable taught me that! When I was sick and I wanted to eat something he brought it and it made me super happy because no one''s ever done that before but even if they did I would still be super happy because that''s just awesome to get what you want. Even better when you''re not feeling awesome. \"


    Why does it feel like I''m more likely to choke than Lukas at any time? He''s the one talking with food in his mouth.


    But...it''s not a bad idea?


    Either way I''m making sweets, no need to think too hard about his words. Especially anything that may somehow hit a little too close. Ah this is really a strange and sad child in all the oddest ways.


    \"Lemon. The lemons are back in season, the kitchens got the first batch a day ago.\" I unexpectedly reveal. Huh, funny, I was just going to start making it but here I am including Lukas, the bacon disaster. Which both scares and reminds me.


    \"You can''t add bacon to it!\" I panic, looking around for anything potentially piggy related nearby.


    \"I won''t!\" he denies vigorously, as if he doesn''t have past criminal history regarding the illegal cross of fatty meat and delicate sweets.


    \"Lukas, you really are not allowed to bring anything weird or bacony near the cake mix.\"


    \"Oi, I said I won''t! If we''re making it for Amar it has to be stuff he likes so we can add that cinnamon and stuff.\"


    \"....I think everyone ATE the cinnamon supply when they went Torte de Riso crazy.\"


    \"Oh yeah! Those were yummy but you all made too many and then it got sad and I didn''t wanna eat anymore. Even Amar stopped wanting them!\"


    \"Right! I keep telling them, even it''s tasty you just get tired.\"


    While the staff diligently giggle and watch us like puppies through the window, Lukas and I argue and go over the recipe game plan. Okay to be fair to the staff, they''re preparing those basic baking necessities such as warming up the brick oven and getting the right flour out.


    \"It''s gotta have butter!\"


    \"Alright alright, lemon butter cake- easy enough to do.\"


    \"And the brown candy stuff that makes apples yummy!\"


    \"Caramel?\"


    \"Yeah that!


    \"We still have some of that?\"


    To my question, Lukas pulls out exactly 5 of those wrapped caramels from his new pockets. His Grey-blue eyes brighter than a modern lightbulb as he proudly presents those candies. For everyone''s sake, especially my own, I can only hope they''re not drugged.


    \"Rosalia you think too much! Doing is faster! Let''s just start making it.\"


    \"No you dumdum, you can''t just wing and blindly make a good cake. Trust me it will taste a lot better if you plan out something first.\"


    \"Yeeeeessss you can, just watch me! I''ll show you!\" as Lukas declares himself rather grampa style dramatically, he holds up ....a spoonful of ricotta. Huh?


    \"....you know what....never mind, I think I got something figured out.\"


    \"See, told you!\"


    Alright, I can work with this. There''s enough ingredient here to play with this.


    As always, I call in the staff and Georgie. There''s only so much I can do with my little arms and I don''t exactly trust Lukas'' coordination. We have all this help, so of course, I''m using it. With a little yelling help from Lukas, further ingredients are gathered to the prepared counter.


    The baking pans are out and almost ready, extra not only to make more cakes but just in case things go wrong. Egg whites and some fine sugar get to whisking, turning into meringue sweet fluff. The more bubbles, the better. While that''s whisking with my human mixers, Lukas comes back with enough softened butter to kill a grown man.


    Carefully we watch more than do ourselves, as I order the skilled hands to fold in the butter, ricotta, lemon juice to be as fluffy as possible. Once in a while, they let Lukas go in for a burst of crazy mixing.


    Slowly I order to the addition of the dry ingredients, including lemon zest. It''s not like I can just stop by the store and buy a box of baking powder, so let''s hope a substitution of left out buttermilk will do the job. It''s partly fermented, which should help the cake rise.


    With the buttermilk, Lukas gives me a hateful grin and a misunderstood thumbs up in approval. As if I''ve seen the light of milk and fats. I fear this child and his addiction to fatty richness may lead him to a future of health complications. Alright, let''s keep feeding him those vegetables.


    When the fluffed up cake batter is finally ready to be poured and bakes, I move on to the caramel. At first, Lukas wanted to make it as thick as we''ve done before, suitable to dripping. But I''m thinking something more drizzle worthy, and if possible some crunch.


    \"Actually, Lukas, I have a much more important job for you.\" I come to a startling realization.


    \"You just wanna hog the caramels!\" complains the boy, wary about my sudden change in mood.


    He''s doing that puff up thing again where he''s trying to look bigger than he is against a threat.


    How odd, it''s just me and I''m much smaller and not scary at all. Here here now Lukas. Here little ice maker, come make some whipped cream for me now!


    It is with great coordination and the help of a maybe stressed out Georgie, that we managed to get a perfectly chilled whipped cream made at the same time as a caramel drizzle. The crunchy bits were essentially just sugar, cooked and cracked. A little more zest gathered and alright, ready for assembly!


    The cakes didn''t take as long to bake and rise as some other recipes out there but it was still quite a chore to watch over them. With no thermometers in this place, I''m stuck with the toothpick test to ensure they''re ready.


    Somewhere along the great cake making crew, I hear a far off screaming that sounds like my mother going \"kyaaaaaa!\" again. It echoes and shakes for a bit before dying down.


    The sound makes Lukas near jump off the counter in a hiss and a huff like a frightened animal but I quickly turned him back to work. Work mode on, it''s baking time! Baking is not just cooking, it is a timed science! Aka, things can just go wrong so easily with cake.


    The time it takes for the cakes to cool, the time it takes to cut, stack and frost, it all adds up. The entire process was honestly a lot messier than I anticipated despite the experienced chefs in the kitchen. But then again, a baking cake is a whole new thing.


    Sweets are worth it though.


    Finally, after a lot of screaming, spills, and impromptu mini lessons, the final cake is made.


    A three-tiered lemon ricotta pound cake! Complete with lemon zested whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and little crunchy bits! Decorate with some honeyed lemon slices and strategic dollars of cream and....oh ....it''s too beautiful. So gorgeous. Put that thing in a magazine. I feel like crying from the beauty of it all. Though that could have just been the baking stress.


    I''m only three years old and it feels like I''m the sole cooking instructor in this class of chefs. Woe is me.


    \"I did a pretty good job!\" licks Lukas, cleaning a spoon of whipped cream.


    \"...Did you now?\" I turn slowly over.


    \"Yep! I''m super awesome so my cake is super awesome. Told you! Good job sidekick!\"


    Something in me snaps, just for a second, and I stick some unsweetened lemon slices directly into his mouth. Then watch on as he makes that sour face, flailing until he finishes chewing and swallowing.


    \"Ha! Challenge accepted and defeated!\" he shouts, tears still in his eyes from the intense sour on childish taste buds. As always, even if he can''t stand it, he still finishes. It''s an amazing skill.


    \"Why didn''t you just....eat some whipped cream with it?\"


    \"OH Yeah!!!\"


    As Lukas shovels spare whipped cream I can''t help but look back to the finished cake, as do most of the remaining staff, who are in absolute awe of it. Yeah pastry making is a little lacking in this world. The tall decorated cake certainly overkill on the whole ''bring back sweets'' requests. To a kid it;s the huge and fantastical cream and sweet creation, I would love to have this as my-...


    Oh.


    \"Hey Rosa! You know what this cake reminds me of? The sweet loaf that Gable made me on my birthday! There were lots of yummy things but that one was the biggest and yummiest.\"


    I look at the grinning older boy, sincerely unsure if he even knows what he''s saying of if he''s been playing me this whole time. There''s an annoying twinkle in his wide eyes and that mischievous grin is a little too much like a smirk compared to his usual big dumb smile. Maybe it''s the tiredness of a full day slaving over my kitchen but I feel like falling over and laughing at the same time


    It''s a birthday cake. We went all out to make a damn birthday cake!


    \"Lukas?...Do you know when is Amar''s birthday?\"


    \"Nope! He doesn''t either! Amar told me that it''s really cool I knew mine and that I even have one. I don''t know what he means by that but it sounds too sad so I don''t like it. I thought it was okay not to do anything on birthdays but then Gable did stuff for me. And you did too, then you had a birthday. And even if Amar gives me stuff or makes a cool sidekick he doesn''t have one for me to do anything back!\"


    \"So what you''re saying is...you want to give him a birthday anyways.\"


    \"Hey hey hey Rosa did you know we all met in the spring?!\"


    \"Did we now?\"


    \"I met you last spring! When you weren''t being a crawly baby and were talky and cool enough to be a sidekick to the awesome me. Amar''s the same, two springs ago! So even if he doesn''t remember his birthday-\"


    \"Let''s make one in the spring?\"


    \"Don''t be dumb Rosalia, it''s already spring!\"


    It''s already starting to be spring. Lemons are ready and the earth is thawing. Somehow we''ve ended up in this strange position with an unintentional birthday cake. I still don''t know what to make of all this but....it''s not so bad a position to be.


    \"Did you brats finally figure it out? Are we done here?!\" moans Georgie, clearing away dirty pans and bowls to be washed.


    \"Figure out what?!\" exclaims Lukas, point a finger over to the weak armed teen.


    In retaliation, Georgie pulls on a mochi soft ear. Ow ow ow why am I getting pulled at as well?!


    \"Don''t play dumb. Nice new clothes, a big cake, even games. I figured out your plan hours ago you little twerps. Why else would I let you make such a big mess everywhere?\" Georgie pulls at each of our earlobes to the sink basin for a clean up.


    How was this my plan when I didn''t even know about it till now huh? Ow ow ow is this really necessary?


    \"Huh! Only hours ago? You''re slow aren''t ya Georgie?! That''s ok, you can still be a really good sidekick one day if you try and study and stuff. Like an indoor super sidekick!\"


    Lukas gets his face dunked in cold water, effectively shutting him up. While I''m not far behind in this rough treatment, at least I don''t get as violently scrubbed clean. Lukas is covered in a lot more whipped cream. I didn''t even say anything bad this time. Georgie? A little respect here?


    \"Alright. Good enough. So, just this once...I''ll let you go without yelling about the mess.\"


    \"Georgie, you already yelled at us for that.\"


    \"Yeah!!!\"


    An earlobe pull gets us both to quiet down, ow ow ow that part of me is sensitive.


    \"As I was saying, just this once. Now. How do you want to deliver the cake? We can cake the long way up the rest of the food-\"


    \"There''s more food?\"


    \"Yay! Food! Is there bacon?! There should be lots of meat-ack!\"


    Ear tug, ow! This is so not necessary Georgie!


    \"...We can take your cake up with normal way....or...just this once, you can sit in and use the delivery lift.\"


    \"But we alread-mmmppffff mpff\" I take a hand to muffle Lukas, preventing anymore ear pulling. Besides, it''s just plain stupid to be giving out how many times we use the dumbwaiter to sneak in or out.


    \"That one Georgie, we''ll take the food lift up and it can be a surprise!\" I reply, sincere despite the young miss smile I have plastered on. My ear is still ringing ok?


    Georgie makes to threateningly pull at the ears despite everything but stops himself in a fake at the last moment. His hands, rough over years of work no matter how much lotion, go to pet the side and top of our heads.


    It''s received with a stunned confusion on my part and pure pleased preening by the silly boy next to me.


    \"You''re good kids you know that?\" he says softly, almost fondly.


    I gulp.


    I will away that strange sensation that refuses to be swallowed down. I hold it in, just like I hold in the sudden wetness in my eyes or the urge to shout back that I''m not.


    \"I know!\" laughs Lukas with delight, his head already nuzzled into that palm.


    Somehow at this moment, Georgie''s hands feel different than they always have. It makes me mute, worldless as they lift us up and right over to the sliding doors of the food lift. Somehow that giant cake fits in there with the both of us. Before the doors close, Georgie graces us with a tender smile and a pat on the head, instead of his usual nagging. It feels both wrong and right.


    \"See you upstairs.\"


    The door slides shut, a ding of the manual lift already steadily moving us up. From inside his pocket, Lukas pulls out glowing jar of moss, lighting up the dark space. Maybe because there is no other light, that I realize it''s the same color of his eyes.


    \"This one is mine\" he declares, holding it up high, before reaching back in and pulling out a warm firelit one, the light almost gold, tossing it over to my open lap. \"And that one, is yours!\"


    \"....\"


    \"Noooooooo need to thank me! I know I''m just that awesome!\"


    I look down at the moss balls of almost gold, marveling in soft little light. It gives me something to focus on, in the dark of this wait, with this strange feeling in my throat and chest. I want to say it started when Georgie of all people patted us but....I know the unpleasant truth. That this knot of feelings has been in me since I was born, reborn, into this place.


    \"The dark isn''t awesome at all! So Gable helped me make these!\" huffs Lukas, his cloudy light moving with him.


    \"I like them.\" I finally voice,


    \"Right?! Amar''s is green because I used lots of cool leaves from Gable! But yours is cool too. Before, when I didn''t live with Gable or Cap, and it got all dark, I wasn''t always awesome. Amar didn''t use them before but one day he started sleeping with candles at night. And then the darkness wasn''t so bad. Your''s looks like candlelight from that time!\"


    \" You''re...afraid of the dark?\"


    \"Noooooooooooooo! That''s not cool or heroic at all! ''Sides, I can''t be scared if I have these!\"


    He looks straight into his jar, as if that could chase away all the dark surrounding us. Straight into the tiny soft light. Like it actually mattered.


    I thump my head to rest against the side of the wall. I don''t understand this kid, any of them, at all. Just when I thought I did, something like this happens, and it''s all jumbled again. As if enough of me wasn''t already mixed up wrong inside.


    All I know for certain is that we''re really too different.


    \"That''s okay too!\"


    \"...huh?\"


    \"That''s we''re different! If it was just me, I didn''t know how to turn on the lights, if I didn''t have everyone''s help so far I wouldn''t know how to make mine. Amar doesn''t tell me a lot of things like I do him, it gets boring. But he liked the light I made him. You too right? You like it?\"


    \"...yeah...I like it a lot.\"


    For once, he stops talking all by himself, too busy grinning at himself, at my answer. As if that much was enough, more than enough. Maybe.


    The 6th ding indicates we''re on the right floor, the lift settles before light peeks out of the opening door.


    \"Work hard sidekick!\"


    \"...What?\"


    \"Yell out surprise really loud okay?! We''re gonna trick Amar real good!!!\"


    The door dings and opens, and there''s nothing left to do but just that. Even though my voice will probably be drowned against''s Lukas, this much doesn''t hurt.


    \"SURPRISE!!!\"


    \"Oh dear! Rosalia?\"


    \"Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!!\"


    ....Mother? Mother! This is the sickbay alright, but where did Amar go? How do you surprise birthday someone without them being here?


    \"Mother? Did you eat my other henchman?!\"


    \"Oh my? Is that what kids call each other these days?\"


    \"Yaaay! Rosa!\"


    \"Lily!?\"


    Turning to the source of the noise I not only find my sister but a still very surprised Amar on the floor. Now it could be the sight of the awesome cake, we''re rolling out. Or it could be what caused the traumatized and absolutely disheveled appearance of his.


    His chocolate curls are sticking up in every direction, worse than any bedhead while his once photo worthy cute outfit was wrinkled all over. When I come to help them up I see Lilyanne has stolen his ribboned hat, for it is plopped right on her head. More than that, why is only one of Amar''s pant legs rolled up and damp with drool? Are those little bite marks?


    Lilyanne? Mother? Were you seriously trying to eat him?


    Amar then makes to hide behind me of all people? As if I could protect him from the bizarre horrors of just what must have occurred in a room alone with my mother and sister. Somewhere Lukas points and laughs, somewhere the doors to the sickbay knock open, food delivery well on its way.


    \"Suprise? We brought sweets?\" I try, a sorry start to this party and an even sadder comfort.


    \"Birthday cake! Cake cake cake! You gotta look at the cake! We made you a cake! \" Lukas comes up, pulling the both of us over with one hand in Amar''s.


    It''s at this moment, that the silent child really takes everything in. From the tiered lemon and caramel cake to what may be something all made and brought for him.


    Compared to me the who doesn''t know just what to say, Lukas rambles on helpfully about birthdays and the lack of them. About stuff I don''t know, wasn''t there for in their time as friends and stuff that I unfortunately do.


    Amar''s little face, still sweet despite his mussed up state, looks up at the cake in unknown awe. It''s another expression I don''t know how to decipher on him It''s not....not really happiness.


    Almost, but it''s not. Something unreachable, even if it seems so close. Without even noticing it, I make to take his other free hand. I touch it but from a beat.


    Quickly, just as quickly as it all happened, he breaks free to the hand holding his and runs to pick up the chalk slate, scribbling away. Lukas and I follow behind, a little confused at what message could be so important?


    ''What do you want me to do?'' reads the sign.


    The little face behind it looks blank, forcibly so, from something I hate to admit I know from experience. Blank to hide something else, something a lot more vulnerably painful.


    \"Nothing!\" yells Lukas, looking a little unsure.


    ''What do you want?'' he scribbles further, uncomfortable in the lack of an answer. The silence isn''t long, but at this moment, it stretches. In this moment, I can read another question not spoken nor written.


    ''What do you want from me?'' I read, from somewhere else, painfully still inside of me.


    \"Just eat.\" I blurt out, drawing attention from both the boys.


    Maybe it''s more out of instinct than anything, but I take their hands, pulling them back to the cake I spent way too much time making today.


    \"Nothing. We don''t want anything from you, just eat. Just eat and be happy. Even if it''s just a little bit. That''s all we want for you.\"


    If anyone noticed the weird atmosphere looming on us kids, they don''t make it known. Focusing on setting up things elsewhere. It''s just us as I pull the boys up, making Amar face his cake.


    He asked for it after all.


    \"So just eat.\"


    Amar looks a little awkwardly between Lukas and I, that or we''re giving off some overly hopeful vibes. But for what?


    Like a naughty child, he takes a finger to poke and steal a lick, a bite of the pretty cake. The finger lingers on his lip, taking the time to taste it. When his body trembles, I fear for the worst.


    But it''s just that this child is brain-damaged. Rather than tears or any of such reactions, he laughs. A strangely mute chuckle and laugh, his finger still to his lip in a universal sign for silence. It''s a very cute sort of smile, and wonderful expression. At least for him.


    \"You like it?\"


    When he finally stops laughing, Amar looks straight at me, at Lukas, and nods with that light easy smile turned up a few megawatts. It looks a little bit closer to happiness.

 101 Candied Almonds

    How exciting! An early spring wedding!


    What happy times. If things had gone on schedule, by now I would be well on my way to the midway lands for that annual playdate with a baby version of my horrid fiance. I would have missed this event entirely.


    One of our long time kitchen maids, Barbara is getting remarried! To a worker from father''s accounting department.


    My my my I wonder how they met and courted? This isn''t modern times with easy dating freedom you know. Social propriety is a thing. How was this match made?


    Was it during meals or deliveries between both parties, filled with longing glances at a socially acceptable distance? At the wagon stop, where two persons in different departments coincidently met for a ride and slowly got to know each other? Or perhaps while budgeting the kitchen allowances, a heated back and forth of passion and numbers? Oh how romantic. Nothing says marriage material like talking grocery expenses.


    I kid, even I know counting and accounting isn''t very sexy, though it is very practical in evaluating a spouse, someone you will be living with. Sheesh, who do you take me for? My father? ...let''s not think about how my parents stay married anymore. It''s too disturbing a thought process.


    I''m sure that this wedding was meant to be a modest affair. After all, this isn''t Barabara''s first rodeo. It seems that her first husband passed in a beast hunting-related accident a few years back. A sad but not uncommon incident. With the death rate around here, widows and widowers are still a pretty common sight. Both young and old.


    So second or even third marriages aren''t uncommon either, especially when the first marriage takes place when the bride and groom are so young. People tend to marry early in this world, which falls in line with what I expected judging by the times and culture. So the remarriage rates are also rather high. It''s hard for single people everywhere but especially here. For older couples on their second or whatnot marriage, at least they don''t have to worry as much about the fuss over family ties and doweries?


    A wedding is still a wedding, no matter how many times. It has to be a celebration! Modes quiet affair? Ahahahahaha maybe if mother and I hadn''t heard about it.


    "The decorations! Oh what flowers are in bloom at this time?!" cries out mother, already digging into her stash of ribbons.


    "The food!" I slam my tiny hands at the parlor table, for emphasis. For what could be more important about a wedding than the food?


    "Oh the dress!" shouts mother.


    "The dress! Right right the dress! Is there already a dress" I agree, mind already swirling with everything.


    There are just so many important points to a wedding.


    "Ahem....Madam?" subtly coughs one of mother''s maids, gesturing to the nervous couple still left standing.


    The to be groom steps up, hardly covering Barbara with his short but solid stature. He had a handsome face and still youthful face despite the eye bags, a still fine age for an eligible bachelor. Not bad for my Barbara. An interesting thing to note, I recall from the original''s memories that Barbara remained a single working maid while I was growing up. This guy wasn''t even in the picture!


    Oh ho ho ho~ What has happened here?


    I''ve had info gathered that he''s called Nicola, a transfer from our workforce stationed in the capital. A cog in the great wheels that keeps Ventrella businesses running. One of the additions in administrative employees that father has assigned oversee and finance the farms and villages collective. Those mills and bridges don''t organize and pay for themselves out of nowhere.


    As amusing as trips are, father truly does not have the time to oversee everything directly, nor constantly communicate with the village elders. Now would it be befitting a man of his status and duties? Do your job father, stop running off!


    Thus, more work for the administrative and accounting departments, resulting in an increase in skilled ''company'' transfers and an overall rise in employment. Sure it would be easier to assign an acting landlord of some sort, but not in the long term. Nor would that please the villagers very much. So welcome welcome, we''re not as fancy or entertaining out there in the home territory but the air is fresh and we''re in a marvelous state of construction growth.


    Nicola transferred here around fall but has been working in our capital mansion for years. This isn''t, or shouldn''t be his first meeting with our home staff. From the maids'' talk, I''ve heard his first arranged ''wife'' eloped with another man but a few days after their marriage ceremony. He''s been a shut-in workaholic ever since. Oh what drama!


    Ahem, not that I approve of the gossips but if it''s already going around, might as well make use of the information network.


    Nicola, short as he is, twitched in mother''s presence but stayed poised the standing. The show of courage was quite gallant.


    "Pardon my very impertinence my lady but....the reason you so-called us forth, was not for a punishment?"


    "A punishment?! Oh whatever for?" blinks mother.


    "Err, ahem...for... relations....inappropriate to a place of employment." he coughs, head bent as is proper when talking with an upper-class woman, or his employer. His nerves betray him, though he stares down at his signed shoes, his face still glows red in embarrassment.


    I don''t blame him, mother is just an intimidating figure no matter what. Something I''ve been unfortunately getting to know more and more intimately. I appreciate the attempt at professionalism but it''s far too late. We heard the news already you know? Much romantic, a proposal, an acceptance, the quiet planning. By news, of course, it was more the screaming gossiping maids and staff.


    "Oh! Well where else would you meet people?" asks mother quite frankly, the consequences of workplace relations still flying over her head.


    She makes a fair point, where else do you meet people here?


    Again, dating isn''t really a thing. There''s courtship, even arranged marriages, but man is it hard to actually meet a potential partner outside your own immediate circles. This applies to most all social classes. It''s all about connections.


    One must be introduced by family or some sort of relations to properly meet new people. Then there''s the process of getting to know them, all without any real dating. At least the kind one would think of as dating? I know it''s a lot easier for most commoners and those in the working class but there are social rules on what''s deemed appropriate and not. Even my own fiance and I never had a moment ''alone'' during our official playdates. There was always someone to supervise and maintain our reputations, usually a gaggle of maids. It just wasn''t proper.


    How old fashioned right?


    Looks like those Ventrella employee benefits have a new addition. Meet people without a recommendation from your matchmaking aunts. We can use this inter-kitchen-accounting marriage as a poster advertisement.


    "So then..." the poor man coughs.


    "My lady! My lady, this humble servant begs for your forgiveness by troubling you with this directly! We....if we would have your blessings, a few days. Please bless up in this union with a few days for the ceremony, to visit my family." bows and courtesies Barbara from behind the blushing to be groom.


    How straight to the point. Yes yes I much prefer this form of communication. Lets not waste anyone''s precious time. Say the time to prepare....for a wedding!


    "Forgive? Oh yes, this is a grave crime! Not easily forgiven at all." teases mother with a mockable haughty voice. She lifts her head, looking quite serious despite the mess of ribbons in her lap.


    "Anything my lady." bows the kitchenmaid even lower, her lover paling and fretting as he takes mother''s words seriously.


    "I need all the details! Oh come come. We must get your measurements! Come along now, tell me all about it as we get you something fitting!" announces mother, breaking the act with a burst of her arms and a girlish twirl.


    "But my lady, there is no need. I...I, there''s is still my previous-"


    "Oh hush, reusing your last gown as is bad luck! We can tear it apart and remake if you insist. My tailors are getting quite good at that. This however is a wedding gift, yes yes this is my personal gift to you on this happy occasion! Oh the reception! Two dresses, at the very least! Oh three! A traveling dress, when you return to your village see your parents!"


    She moves the poor accountant, frozen like a bowling pin, to usher Barbara up, already scandalously undressing her outer apron and head coverings. At the sudden lack of layers and the newly revealed sight of Barbara''s dark hair, plaited in braids, spilling out, he turns even redder. Quickly averting his eyes before mumbling out his apologies and bowing his way out of the room.


    Oh what a modest gentleman, how proper to keep a lady''s modesty. Yes yes a fine match for our Barbara indeed.


    "Oh he is just adorable," coos mother, loud enough to trip the suffering man on his way out.


    Now that I squint at his fleeing back, I think I recognize him? But it''s in the vague, ''ah yes one of my many employees'' kind of way.


    Either way, this was not a prophesized relationship. I can''t recall either one of them getting remarried, let alone to one another? For once I agree with mother. I want details!


    I curse my short little legs as I case after where my mother''s skirts trail, ushering a flustered Barbara behind a screen in the next room to undress.


    Did I ever mention how large mother''s closet is? It is extremely large yes, the size of a modern department store floor. Why it''s big enough to fit a tailor''s workstation or three.


    Right now we only have two desks in here, for alterations. This does not include the increasing sitting cushions. My sister and I need comfortable spots to stay put on when grounded or trapped with mother.


    Speaking of Lilyanne, she''s somehow free from the burden of mother''s parlor today.


    Kidnapped to who knows what. Like grampa''s favorite, as she so is. This morning I was absolutely booing at grampa running off to Gable''s with Lilyanne instead of me. For shame, I demand more personal Gable time! It''s been practically nonexistent since Lukas came and stole the show.


    That kid gives me a headache.


    I thought I was going to be bored out of my mind again as mother whisked me off, forced to take Lilyanne''s usual place. As annoying as it is, I may be one of the only ones to survive my mother''s affections. If anything, I have learned that my tailoring experiments get the full pass with mother. So long as the cute outfits keep coming.


    Cuteness is great. Cuteness rules all. Cuteness may have almost gotten my henchmen eaten.


    "I don''t understand! These stripes, they have no meaning but for the beauty of the eye. The placements! They''re so simple they''re practically plebian! Yet yet- this subline beauty! I don''t understand how it''s so wonderful!!!" sobs an honestly rather frightening bespeckled older man behind the tailor''s desk, clutching a bright blue kiddy sized sailor top.


    Ah I see the Lukas commissioned version is complete.


    "Callistus, there''s no time! A wedding! There shall be a wedding!" fusses mother.


    "A wedding?! At this time of year? How bold! How daring! Who is the fearless bride!?" screeches the man in coke bottle thick glasses, perfectly flinging the sailor suit back on the sand sack we use as a kiddy mannequin.


    Those things honestly look more like some very round scissors on top of his nose. Medieval glasses I assume. At least he can see? My my my have we come a long way in eyewear. My my my do we have a long ways to go.


    With the familiarity of some eccentric uncle, mother and he shout back and forth despite being in the same room. He shows absolutely no fear or respect to his lady employer at all. On the contrary, I''m more fearful of the man.


    Just....what....are those bright pants? Are they even pants? No, of course not, pants are for the poor farmers or practical adventuerers or some shit. Hose is where it''s at. Are they easter egg themed? Such a rich dye job is as much a status symbol of wealth as they are a monstrosity. Oh my poor eyes.


    To be fair, he is only following the trend. Dressing as is the most ''fashionable'' for the times and of his position. Why there''s even rogue painted on his face. Still, ow ow ow my eyes. Callistus is seasoned professional who is only on call, sometimes here but primarily resides in the capital. I believe he is a great part to blame for some of mother''s ridiculously hideous section of the closet. Someone has to send those parcels of the capital''s ''latest'' fashions. This is the man responsible for sending mother the banshee clown dress many months ago.


    Again to be fair, they''re just following the trends. If everyone is wearing the stupid foot long shoes or fish dome hair coverings, well then it''s....still ugly but not solely his fault. I recall the fashion trends of this world for the next 14 years with a great heave and sigh.


    Life is hard for a modern soul.


    There is still hope, for my simple ''innovations'' for the most part have been met without much resistance. They''re not all feasible, nor popular, but dear fashion gods that obviously don''t exist in this world, it''s something better than what I currently have available to choose from.


    "A second marriage for the maid! A Saturday wedding then! Oh I do adore Saturday weddings!" the tailor stokes at his carefully waxed and trimmed beard.


    From behind the screen, Barbara''s slighty nervous voice makes it''s way over.


    "I beg your pardon my Lady, good sir. We still need time to contact our relatives. This all really too much for this humble servent.."


    "A wedding dress is not necessary!!?"


    "Oh dear, nonsense nonsense! First wedding of the season! Oh ho ho ho~ How delightful!"


    Again, I am shocked and racking the original Rosalia''s memory for any such event. Perhaps I can pull out non-specific recollections of mother blessing a few couples. There were maids who left to get married, young lower nobles who had well finished their time in servitude to return home as a learned lady and wife.


    As the lady of the house, employee matters are overseen by my mother, or well they should be. A wedding dress or three wasn''t an uncommon gift for mother, or any noble of a similar station. Linens and bedding are also appropriate gifts to bestow on a lucky couple. That stuff is expensive for ordinary folks.


    Why I know most of the staff, including those from outside the kitchens, fought over the honor of defeathering those bacon wings. The unspoken rule around here is, who so ever is on plucking duty for our daily meals may do so what they wish with the feathers. The women tend to be the most fierce in hogging feather duty, saving those downy things over the course of years to make a proper pillow stuffing for their own households. Occasionally a page boy gets to bring home the haul of some stubborn poultry to their mothers. It just goes to show to hard it is to get material things and comforts in this place.


    So yes, mother has gifted out such things before. I just can''t remember a single instance where it''s done so personally? Never before had mother had so much free time, nor the energy to act like this. In fact... she was quite often sick? When she wasn''t praying over Lilyanne''s bedside, she was often cooped up recuperating from her own fevers?


    It faults me to say that I downplayed and pushed that fact aside. I''ve been primarily focused on my twin sister''s chronic illness since my birth since Lilyanne is this pivotal factor in what determines my fragile little life. However since the resolution of Lilyanne''s illness to be something is plain as magical overload, she''s been thankfully faring like much any toddler. Rather than my silly little Lilyanne, hasn''t it been mother whose been showing the most improvement to her health?


    Ah, these butterfly effects sure are pesky to figure and reason out.


    Alright then, let''s just settle for a healthy Lilyanne leads to a too healthy mother for a mixture of reasons. Parenting stress, magical overdosing, and whatever else is in the mix.


    As long as everyone is healthy and not forgetting to feed me again, it''s all good. How funny, for a rich girl like Rosalia to ever starve. Ha, reality sure is funny. Depressing and funny.


    Speaking of forgetting, it appears to me everyone is in some state of wedding dress panic. Ignoring the clear expert here. Me.


    I kid, I kid, I am a literal little kid. Still it won''t do to forget my presence, especially when we haven''t gotten those relations details. Staring intently does nothing, they''re all too self absorbed to notice to tiny me in the room. I''m not being gossipy or television drama deprived, it''s uh, research. Yes, investigation and research in how changes are being made in between lifetimes.


    I haven''t gotten to the point I''m craving overly cheesy Korean soap operas yet. Especially not the kind I have memorized due to my old boss'' bad addiction to them. No, not at all.


    "You. Too nosey. Quiet down." I step up to the medieval trendy fashion clown, easily climbing onto the desk unnoticed in the commotion.


    It''s very hard not to see or hear me when I''m right here now isn''t it? Being but a few inches from his nose, he falls over in a loud but appropriately clown-like reaction.


    "Talk while measuring. Barbara, come out so the maids and Callistus can measure you. It''s going to happen no matter what so the faster the better. Mama, make it a real order so she stops trying to be polite. Also details. I want details....and food." I snap.


    Or well I try to. Curses on these pudgey little hands, how do they fail to snap? I get a proper snapping sound on the 5th try, prompting people in the room to stop gaping at me to start moving. Snap snap everyone.


    I miss Georgie already and it''s only been a few hours since mother took me away. He''s just better at snapping and ordering things done for me.


    "Oh my, Rosalia get down from there." scolds my mother without any real heat.


    For one she says get down but she''s already taken me into the usual teddy bear hold. Curses, it''s absolutely impossible to escape from this bosom cushion. Two, she claps her maids into action, who had previously been standing still and ready as robots. It makes me sigh watching how well trained they are versus what I get. The level of maids is just incomparable.


    Behind the shadow of the screen, we watch the attack and undressing before then diligently pulling out a slightly shy kitchen maid, clad only in her chemise. It''s a good thing she''s a long time Ventrella employee. One just gets used to working under strange situations and orders, especially under grampa.


    "Oh ho ho ho! So how did it start, when, where?" chuckles mother, already holding me tight in glee as she takes a seat on the nearby lounging chair.


    I would complain but again it''s impossible to break free once mother gets me in her grasps. That and Barbara is breaking, knowing full well what Ventrella nonchalant stubbornness looks like. Instead, I take a page from Lilyanne, parroting back mother''s "when and where?!"


    I''m not all that desperate for entertainment, I swear.


    "Well..." starts Barbara, already tired. But she''s a good sport and seasoned employee, lifting her arms and starting the tale.


    Rosalia translation filter in progress, please hold.


    Ahem, I was just listening very carefully. Objectively. Most certainly not baiting my breath in time with my mother''s squealing. Oh hohoho, it turns out they did notice each other from the times my family would travel to our capital home. Notice and then do....absolutely nothing!


    That is, until the transfer. Passed by in halls. Hollow greetings growing more familiar by day, at every wagon ride and stop. The brushes of hands from passed items growing to brushes of breath. Getting a tad too close, far too heated while speaking of the grocery expense lists. Hah I knew it was the kitchen expences arguments that did it. Aha! Called it!


    Ahem, excuse me.


    Oh, traditional romances with their proper social distancing and afar gazes of imaginative pining. The struggle between what is good and proper compared to the gradual breaking point. The final lack of decorum.


    "Then I...um...beg pardon my lady..."


    "Oh no no no go on, please. Don''t mind me as a lady at all. I insist. Really. Do tell." mother squeezes me in her arms at same time I clutch her like a seat belt.


    This isn''t the time to be shy and stop. You''re killing mother here and that''s killing me. God I hate suspenseful pauses. You can''t just leave off like that, then what? What?!!


    "Then I...took inspiration...from you my lady."


    Gasps sound out in all directions and a clatter of a spilled tray, Callistus clutches his own beard in a dramatic gasp. The subtle whispers and giggles floating in the air.


    "You didn''t! Oh you daring thing you!" he clamors, near swooning at the pinned layers of skirts on Barbara. She blushes down to her chests and rubs shyly at her arms.


    Hey um, I seem to be the only one out of the loop here. What does that even mean?


    "Mother, what is Barbara talking about? What did you do?"


    For some odd reason, my mother doesn''t react at all. Frozen blank with her mouth slightly open. Hey hey hey mother, oh mother? I try waving a hand up at her face but there''s no one home up in there. Is this an operating error? Did we break mother?


    "Why sweet little miss, you haven''t heard how your mama dearest so handsomely swept your deviously handsome papa up and-"


    The seatbelt hands then come up to my ears, covering them entirely and mother breaks out in stiff awkward laughter. The sound of "oh hohohohoho!" desperately drowning out any other noise.


    I can see clown tailor''s lips and mustache moving, I know there are words coming out of there. But I can''t hear, let alone understand a thing. I also see the exact moment that Callistus opens up his sparkling eyes from storytime, takes a good look at mother''s expression from behind me, and then promptly shuts up.


    "No. But what did Barbara do? What?" I ask, trying around to get to the point. Geez, what is this? A PG filter?


    From the muffled silence, I can see Barbara and some nearby maids giggle, trying to politely cover their mouths. I see them doing that ''awwww an innocent, we must speak of such things in front of children'' sort of expression. How annoying.


    It''s all the frustrations of being a child all over again. It''s not like I can go around shouting out how I''m a grown woman, at least 17 if we''re counting the original Rosalia''s memories and much older with my own. I''m from the 21st century, with the internet. I''ve seen things! Utterly indecent things!


    Fine, fiiiiiiiine, don''t tell me. I don''t wanna know about the grossness anyways. Especially if Rosalia''s biological parents are involved. Despite being another person, I do not see two attractive people getting too close for comfort when mother and father are together. I see gross parentals, creating a nauseating reaction that borders on violent and disgusted.


    Even younger, no one wants to see their parents like that. Please cruel world, stop reminding me.


    "I''m hungry. I want to go to the kitchens now. May I go get snacks? Please mama?" I wiggle in her hands, making sure to look up with my eyes wide and wet.


    I may not resemble Lilyanne in personality but I have this face. Oh come on, you can''t say no to this face. I''m ridiculously adorable at this age. I''ve seen Lily! She looks so cute even when eating dirt, I can at least get away with some of that, hair color changes aside.


    Seriously, not fair. It''s been a whole winter and my hair still hasn''t reverted back from its reddish hue. To make it worse, growing out it get lighter and lighter at the tips. Another summer of sun and it will practically be aurburn! Woe is me and my father''s cursed genes.


    It must be the hair that fails me, for my mother merely smiles and goes back to holding me even tighter.


    "Oh my darling is already feeling peckish, yes yes I know Rosa dear. I have already called for tea and goodies. Listening to such stories really doesn''t do without snackies." she indulgently nuzzles my cheeks and hair with her nose. Like I''m 3 or something.


    Which I...physically am.


    Sometimes, I wonder just what would happen if I straight told this woman that I''m not actually her child or even a child. I''m another person from another world, who by some unexplainable stroke of bad luck, ended up here. That her real daughter is already dead, or maybe never born. I wonder if this strange feeling in the back of my head is guilt at tricking an entire family.


    Then I remember that I do not have such a masochistic death wish and promptly squish the thought, lest I may get squished. To death. That or be put to the stakes.


    We''ll think about it at the next reincarnator''s meeting with grampa, if that ever comes again. Those things are bad for my heart and common sense.


    *Ding*


    "Oh how timely, tea has arrived!" exclaims mother happily, most likely ready to snack herself.


    "I''ll get it!" taking the chance to hop out of her lap. I can''t actually run and disappear in here and she has already stopped my kitchen escape plans. So thus mother releases me to allow this much freedom.


    Snacks snacks snacks time to distract myself with snacks.


    Two maids stand poised on either side to he dumbwaiter, ready to serve but upon my excited approach, the bow and clear the way from me like a proper entourage. Seriously, what kind of training do they get and why do none of Lilyanne''s and my maids get that?


    The dumbwaiter doors slide open to....a brain-damaged brat eating my snacks.


    "Oh, hi Rosa. Chips? The have fennel in them. Oh, and they said to give out the wedding candy." Amar quietly offers from inside the kiddy sized elevator, sliding out the heavily plated offerings on trays.


    "You. Didn''t grampa kidnap you earlier?" I make to grab at the pecked at snacks.


    "Hmmm? Was that kidnapping? He just took me to the troops for something." he munches on sugared roasted almonds, the luxurious little wedding candies mentioned.


    "Yes, every time a strange adult takes you away somewhere against your will. That''s kidnapping."


    "Oh. Ok. But Cap and Gable aren''t strange? Are your papa''s hidden guards strange? They keep following me everywhere. Is it still hidden if I already know? They don''t know I''m in here. Earlier I gave them some wedding candies too."


    "That''s not the point, that''s....wait, how did you give them the candy? Oh nevermind. Talk later. Stop eating all my snacks, hand them over and go back to hiding. If my mother finds you, you''re doomed."


    The child nods, pushing out the tea tray but still continues stuffing his cheeks with the sugared almonds. The power of sweets is too strong. It is the sweets that are his undoing.


    I slam the sliding door too late, for right behind me is a chill, the sound of a cooing death.


    "Oh darling no, don''t do that to poor little Amar."


    "Who? Nope? No one here."


    "Rosalia don''t be so rude! Here here now~"


    I slam the button that will drop the lift, but how could such a creaky device beat my mother in terms of speed and brute force. I watch with abject horror she holds the dumbwaiters and slides those flimsy doors back open. Hungry for a different kind of treat. RIP Amar, I told you so.


    "Oh my?"


    Huh? The lift is empty? HOW?! He was just in there!


    "Awwwww, I see now." croons mother, like play hide and seek with a small pet, answering nothing.


    Instead of speaking, she keeps the sliding doors open while pressing the button again, releasing the lift. It dings down slowly, creaking inch by inch to reveal the disappearing trick. Any attempted escapees can''t cower far back enough on top of the metal box, nor are the dark smooth walls outside the lift very climbable.


    "There you are! Oh aren''t you just a little cutie pie. How did you fit through there~"


    Amar is caught with his cheeks still stuffed, a pathetic hamster still munching on handfuls of freshly made wedding candy. No doubt made at the news making rounds throughout the whole household. With a single dainty hand, mother has him fished and lured out with the bowl of sweets.


    He''s doomed, doomed I say.


    "Hi Rosalia''s mama, sorry for bothering. There''s no pie but they''re making stewed pears downstairs. Everyone''s congratulating Nicola and making him very red. It''s funny. The wedding candies are yummy too. Oh and that''s yummy, and that one and hmmm and that one." he munches cutely, accepting every tea snack mix that mother has taken to blissfully hand feeding him.


    What a wise technique, playing hamster and distracting mother from crushing him to death in ''huggies''. No wonder he wasn''t running and cowering for his life. I can''t even bring it in me to yell out at the disappearing candies. It''s a never before seen survival move!


    This offensive! It looks so natural. He alternates between empty talk and seemingly careless soft nibbles right at her fingertips. It''s super effective when paired with happy closed eyes and a sugar sweet pleased hum. Nibble is extremely effective! K.O.! The rumbles of mother''s internal screaming is going off the charts.


    There are no charts but there might as well be. She''s down! Mother is down and twitching!


    A very dangerous gamble, one that paid off beautifully as Amar pries himself away from the danger zone to deliver lucky wedding candy to the soon to be bride.


    If it wasn''t such an excellent move that I''ll be stealing for myself, I would almost be ashamed at how mother was taken down. Really? Mother is a very strange sort of person, the kind that''s only getting increasingly harder to figure out the more I see of her? The nerd is far easier to deal with.


    I''ll just blame grampa for her or something.


    "Barbara, congratulations." Amar brings her the bowl, not at all perturbed about seeing her in such a state of undress. Ah but that''s a real child for you.


    She reaches down with a pat to his head and an odd handful of the candied nuts, a bashful thanks on her lips.


    Ah couples, they''re so cute when they''re like this and not say, my parents.


    "Are they teasing Nicola downstairs? Still?" Barbara asks, popping the candies into her mouth.


    "Yep. It''s that time of year, they say."


    "That time of year?"


    Suddenly the merry mood has shifted, an awkward tone setting in their voices.


    "That time of year." repeats Amar, tilting his head childishly. He pauses, pursing his lip to maybe recall what they said, or think of the right words. Then throws a few more candies into his mouth like it''s brain food.


    "That time of the year. Everyone says it''s a good time for him to go out and to bring you a goof offering. Prove himself." he chews on it, steadily munching away.


    "An offering?" I break in, still lost and confused.


    Thankfully Amar isn''t my mother or any adult, covering my ears from all these supposed unknown matters. He answers straight to the point, licking his fingers. An answer so childishly simple and blunt that it knocks Barbara to stumble, grasping heavily to the nearest support.


    "The hunt. It''s time for the spring hunt."


    She''s down. She falls down to her knees, face pale and frame shaking. Amar doesn''t even blink, not understanding the impact of what he''s saying.


    "Nicola agreed, he''s gonna join this year''s local hunt."


    ---------

 102 Grape Debate.

    The world is upside down.


    Not just the fact that I''m living as an immensely wealthy toddler in some very old world high fantasy, doomed to a forsaken fate as a bedeviled villainess in the 7 layers of political hell. Not that my whole world has been turned topsy turvey surreal since I, a rather normal modern person by many standards, have died and been reborn into this body and position, far from what I''ve ever known time and space-wise. Forced to play infant all over again when I am clearly a mature adult, scarily beyond my years and above all reasonable expected developmental progress. Those are all accurate too.


    However, I have been over that again and again in my head and thus have stopped thinking about it too much. Concluding that it brings me no benefit to dwell past a certain point of knowledgeable consciousness. Rather it''s quite detrimental to any of my endeavors for a progressive and peaceful life, especially as a very small and useless child.


    No, my world is upside down not for any of the expected reasons in my head.


    It is upsidedown because I am quire literally, upside down.


    I''m practicing my head stands.


    "Okay, let me go."


    "But you''ll fall? Your balance is still off Rosalia. If you don''t move your weight right, you''ll fall in ...um...4? 4 seconds? I think?"


    "Shut up and drop my legs. Experience is the best way to learn. I''ve already mastered the wall and you''re only helping with the next baby steps."


    "Leaning on a wall? That''s, really really off on balancing?"


    "Drop me! I know I know, I''m getting too dizzy from holding this position. You''re wasting time."


    "Oh. Ok?"


    Without any further warning, Amar lets go of my legs and back. I''m left with no support but my own squishy body''s balance, the weight making my head ache as blood continues pooling in my face. I fight off the trembling in my arms.


    "1...2...3...4..."


    I didn''t ask for a count you shitty brat!!!!


    "My young lady!" yelps Abigail, huddled under one of the arcades, a safety zone where I ordered her to stay put.


    "Ah, good job. You lasted two more seconds than I thought!" claps Amar the moment I go tumbling down. Gee how encouraging.


    "Of course I did! It would have been longer if it weren''t for you!"


    My world is still dizzy as blood is redirected from my head to the appropriate areas of my body. It''s still chilly outside in this courtyard, and the garden grounds here aren''t exactly warm. After working up a sweat with morning exercises, it''s not so bad.


    I haven''t been allowed out back to the troops lately. Which means no obstacle course or drill sergeant runs from Tamera. It won''t do to let myself get soft, or well softer. It will only hurt more when my workouts begin again. The amount of hidden guards has apparently been increased on me. Thus no more sneaking out on the wagon rides. I can only exercise at home.


    Why are my parents so oddly overprotective of me now? Things are not going according to the plan at all and the plan has hardly even begun. I''m only 3!


    Okay, stupid question. It''s because I''m 3 and I''ve already managed to poison myself...twice. Consecutively the last two times I went to the troops. Yes, I see how my parents aren''t quite willing to let me try for lucky number three.


    Which I would like to defend myself on. It''s not my fault!


    Rather isn''t it more this kid here?!


    "What is my fault now?" asks Amar, poking me from where I lay dizzy.


    "Everything."


    "Oh. Ok."


    "How many guards are there now?"


    He looks up, left, right, then left again, like a child learning how to cross the street.


    "Not including those four we can see? Um seven? I think it''s seven. Did I get it right?!" Amar shouts up the last part to the open skies of the courtyard, cupping his hands to amplify his soft voice.


    It echoes in the enclosed closed space, four walls with buffers of columns and garden plants surrounding us. A cloister with tall pillars and open space, making one almost forget the fact that we''re not actually outside.


    My house has quite a few of these courtyards, along with open and closed arcades. When the days weren''t winter cold, my frail twin sister could spend her afternoons taking her tea in one of these enclosed gardens, sketching a piece of art against the shade of the terraces. My mother was even more fond of them, scandalously basking in sunlight, ruining her fair skin when she thought she was alone. They''re quite pretty spaces once the green fully returns with flowers back to blooming.


    When we''re met with absolute silence, not even a chirp of the morning birds that were probably scarred off, Amar nods satisfied with the implied answer.


    "Right, seven then. Write that down Abbey."


    "Right away my young lady!"


    Abbey shouts back from where she''s been comfortably parked. Under the arcades that surround this courtyard, seated on a carved stone bench attached to the blank warm sandy walls. When grampa gets a little too rowdy, one day in the future, a mosiac will be built there. Painting over the cracks on that wall with patterned stones. Making a pretty picture above where Lily would sit, painting, taking tea and eating sweet grapes.


    But that has happened yet, none of that has happened yet. Will happen for a number of years.


    There are a bunch of annoying vines, wrapping around the rooftops of the walkways, hopping from column to column. As it gets warmer they''ll flush green and full, back to life, some bursting with flowers and fruit. Cut the vines and a cloudy sap will seep out. Gather and boil that to make a mild sugar substitute, as we often did for our daily bread on the kitchens.


    The green grapes grew year round, seemingly overcoming the common sense of seasons. Green ones are sour, even when they''re sweet. A punch of tart on the tongue. The crazy old man in my memories laughing as he pops them fresh off the vine and into his grandaughter''s mouth with his filthy rough bare fingers.


    Lilyanne only ate the served purple ones, flush royal on a delicately decorated platter. Full, plump, and sweet, carefully washed in freshwater and imported straight from grampa''s vineyards. She didn''t eat the unexpectedly wild ones that twisted in and around her very own home.


    "Are you hungry? Doesn''t your mama feed you enough?!! Ahahaha! Nevermind all that, eat up eat up!" grampa would laugh and tease till his hands were sticky and my still tiny tummy was bursting. When he stopped by that is. The sporadic old man practically a guest in his own house.


    After that, grampa got the very strange impression his eldest granddaughter preferred green grapes.


    Poor thing. Royal sweet purple grape baskets for dear Lilyanne. Whites and sour greens for Rosalia. The contrast was quite devastating, even if he obviously didn''t understand the blatant show of favoritism. Grampa sucks at that kind of thing, always has.


    He also had the impression that Rosalia was particularly fond of dry rub beast meat jerky? You know, the kind that old men eat with alochol or take on long trips. Those were often in her basket? Or really weird foreign snacks that no one else in their right mind would touch? Oh, the dry bread rolls from the troops? I mean the last one was absolutely true, those are delicious for dipping, but still. She just ate whatever he gave her ok! Especially in those early days.


    Of course mother didn''t feed her, why would she? That''s the servants'' job. One that they often failed at.


    These are very strange memories. They feel very real, as if they were personally my own. I suppose they technically are, so as long as I inhabit this body.


    At least I won''t have to worry about being starved again. Nope! Not happening! Food is life and I rule these kitchens with a toddler hard fist!


    I will not have to rely on grampa feeding me green grapes or funny swiped rations in this lifetime, thank you very much. Not like he would. He knows I''m not really Rosalia in this lifetime.


    "What are you mad at today?" asks Amar upsidedown, flipping himself over in that headstand I have yet to master.


    The kid is a horrible instructor. which is why he can only be a henchman trainee.


    "Everything." I groan, trying to ready myself for the next attempt.


    "Ok? But you''re looking really hard at the side roofs over there?"


    How is he walking on his hands like that? Not fair! Hey hey hey get back here.


    "I''m not mad! Now help me again."


    "Ok.Sad?" he asks, flipping back to help me with my balance.


    "No! Where do you get all these weird ideas? Maybe I''m hungry? Exercise always makes you hungry."


    "Oh, that makes sense. You get cranky when you''re hungry."


    "I will kick you."


    "Nah. You''re too slow."


    I fall over again during the next flailing attempt at a steady headstand. Great. Just great. No Abbey, I am not hurt, please don''t move and hurt yourself in your panic. I''m coming over there and giving up for the day. Time for a second breakfast.


    "What kind of grapes are better," I ask bluntly, the memories apparently still bothering me.


    "Par-pardon my lady?" stutter my young maid, already rushing to clean me up with a towel.


    "I said, what grapes are better? What color?"


    Abbey drops her mouth open, seemingly scared in answering, and looks helpless towards us.


    "Oh, did you want to eat grapes?" asks Amar, identifying the still dead-looking grape vines twisted around. He nods his head as if that explains everything. Another one of my cravings. It''s far already too late to save my reputation as a glutton.


    "I would never my lady!" cries Abbey, surprising the both of us by dropping down on the floor.


    I sigh, here we go again.


    "Abigail, I command you to get up. We''ve talked about this, no extra bowing, especially to your knees! The floor gets your clothes dirty. There are b"


    "My- my apologies young miss R-Ro-Rosalia."


    "It''s fine, sit up and calm down."


    Have you ever seen 3 year old calm and comfort a 13 year old. We must make for a very hilarious sight of master and servant.


    "It''s because grapes are expensive? They''re saved for wine and stuff here right? Everyone eats them but no one can say they do?" tilts Amar, looking up for confirmation.


    No matter how much you do that, the secret guards aren''t going to answer you know?


    "Eeeep! No, ne-never, I would ne-neever dare steal from my-my lady! I-I would never dare to steal!"


    Ah right, I forgot about that. Abbey came from the capital and from a working-class family, there would be little chance for her to swipe some grapes there nor are they very affordable to a common salary. Here and around the farmlands, they''re primarily used to make precious wine and alcohol, with only a small portion of it suitable for sale as a luxury food.


    Just like Amar mentioned though, everyone around here eats them secretly, even the farmers.


    It''s a grape, how hard can it be to pop one in your mouth and just go? As long as they don''t go overboard, people tend to look the other way as locals enjoy a sweet portion of treats here and there. Though for some odd reason no one dared to eat the grapes that grew around my house. Not even the maids known for their swiping. Huh, wonder why was that?


    Were they really that sour and unpleasant?


    "Calm down Abbey. Sorry I asked. You can try some grapes later when they come back into season."


    "Eeeep!"


    "Calm down already. See those vines up there." I point up, hopefully not to a secret garden hidden who knows where. "Soon they''ll bloom. They''re just the green kind but if you let them grow without tapping too much of the sap they''ll get sweeter. We can eat those until the ones the vineyards send arrive."


    "M-my-my lady." sobs Abbey, looking ready to cry. There there now, please don''t. Not again.


    "Oh! Ok. Thanks Rosa." Amar smiles, brightening up at the thought of sweets.


    At least he''s good at eating his fruits and veggies, unlike another henchman in training. Who is currently under another round of Gable enforced punishment. Good. Train him well Gable.


    "What type are they?"


    "Huh?" I can''t help but voice out my first reaction.


    "You said they were green grapes? Are they the long ones? I didn''t think they''re the round sweet candy ones? The ones made into raisins or the ones with really thin skin? Or are you talking about the little sour ones you make into sauce and verjus?" he gestures with making an ok sign his fingers, indicating something even smaller than I''m used to seeing.


    I pull on his ear and twist.


    "How many grapes did you steal to know all that?"


    "I don''t? There''s not a lot of fruit around the troops? Unless you count what''s in the death forest? Definitely not any grapes, or green grapes?"


    "Hmmmmmm?"


    "The Lord commander''s grape fields are all the way over there and there? I think?"


    An acceptable answer enough to release the boy, that and the height difference is making it annoying to pull down. Grow up faster little body of mine. My arms are very tired from exercising this morning.


    "I don''t know what kind they are, they get big and small and they just grow all over my house. No one ever eats them."


    "Oh, they must be very sour?"


    "I think they''re fine, not as sour as a cherryberry, but if you eat too much your stomach hurts. The seeds are small enough you don''t have to spit them out?"


    "Is it something your grampa planted? For wine? The brewery under Gable''s and Lukas'' house?"


    "I never saw it, no one ever harvests them or eats them but me. They just pop up randomly, even in the off-seasons. You can see some of them are already growing if you climb up to where it''s sunniest. "


    "Oh, okay? Sounds good."


    I consider it as we walk along the arcade and through the courtyard, past smaller courtyards and halls, back to the main kitchens. What kind of grapes are those little guys? Does it matter? Nope. There are more important things on my mind.


    Like planning a wedding! Or preventing my future tragic death. Or planning a wedding!


    Shame that the bride and groom are fighting. Ah, those classic pre-wedding nerves and death threats. Ah yes death threats, an essential element to every couple ready to take the next step.


    Barbara has been very depressed lately. The sheer opposite to how a blushing bride to be should be! Her mood only continues to tank as the locals get ready for what they call the local hunt.


    After winter, hibernating wildlife and beasts come roaring back to life. Many of them are cranky from their sleep and quite ravenous. They''re both weakened from the lack of food and far more aggressive than other seasons. For some species, it''s also mating season, which further explains the aggression. The males roam the lands, marking further territories and into human settlements and villages. Later on, when females have their babies, stumbling onto a threatened mother beast and her cub is the equivalent of a death sentence.


    So the hunt is necessary to disperse these marked territories and reduce the chances of any dangerous creatures from getting too close. Reducing their numbers a safety concern each year. It used to be a certainly dangerous but necessary evil, taken on by the strongest of a village.


    Nowadays after the prime that was my grampa, it''s like football season. A sporting event. Especially in Ventrella territory.


    The troops enter the forest directly, as deep and far as they can. There they locate and set up camps around any dungeon spots or places that might den or spawn dangerous beasts. To them, it''s a hunt in the truest sense. Where they bag the biggest or rarest creatures, counting up the profits and bragging rights. Dragging the things back home whole as a trophy or cutting their treasures up, taking back only the valuable pieces and parts. Some things can be dried and grounded up into potions or magical items, others can be sold to be made into luxury items. It''s quite interesting how creative rich people here get showing off the hauls of these hunts and raids. Anything from the giant ribcage bone carriages to gowns made entirely out of tiny delicate fairy-like wings.


    I say this because Rosalia has purchased both of those things and more, as have many other wealthy nobles.


    Yay for supporting the adventurers I guess.


    With troops getting the worse of the monsters in early, spread out across the land for fairness, the common people have a much safer time hunting the weaklings that pass through the gaps. Things that hero wannabees and seasoned hunters would find too tedious to bother. A waste of their strength and skills.


    The gaming season attitude has long spread to the average Jon or Joe. Every farmhand and their fathers want a piece of the hunt. Unlike the soldiers under my grampa, who get a portion of the profits deducted, it''s every man for themselves. The meat, the fur, anything involved is their so long as they catch and kill it entirely. There are no real rules. Just kill it and split up the good among your hunting party.


    Like anything in this world, it is still quite dangerous. Even if it wasn''t a magically tampered world where things like ''swamphide eight legged bears'' existed, hunting is just a dangerous thing in general! Anyone and everyone is at risk of getting tusked, antlered, or clawed to death if not just eaten. Oh, getting crushed to death is also a common one! Can''t forget that. One unlucky sit and roll of a full grown farm hog is enough to kill some careless grown men. Stick some layers of fangs, horns, and a lot more aggression on those things and we might as well evacuate a village.


    I may sound a little insensitive even if it''s the truth, afterall people have lost their lives. Including Barbara''s first husband. If he never joined that hunt all those years back, if he was just more careful or a little less unlucky, he would still be here today. Barbara wouldn''t have had to been widowed so young or have left her village at all to seek employment in my residence. She most likely would have been a very normal housewife in one of the local villages, raising a small herd of her own babies.


    Ah yes the outdated dream of many women. Babies. I don''t get it but hey I''m just a bad transmigrated tourist here.


    So far though the benefits far outweigh the risks.


    Common people pick up their pitchforks and whatever they can get their hands on, ready to pick off the weakened leftovers. A hunting trophy to call their own. If they''re lucky, it''s something that can be sold or scrapped for good ingredients to craftsmen. If anything, it''s some extra meat at the dinner table and fur to make into clothes or bedding.


    Many men, no matter their status, find it a prime opportunity to prove themselves. Which is exactly what happened to Barbara''s fiance.


    Joining the great old hunt to provide a nice offering to an intended lady love. It''s a common flaunt. The greater the catch, the greater the sign of love and devotion. A way that a man can prove himself a protector and provider of a household. It can be a courting gift to a prospective couple. Or it can be peace offering to your wife if you''re already married. You know, this world''s equivalent of wining and dining.


    It''s a raw steak and a coat all in one?


    Not to say women can''t hunt too! There are literally no rules. Gender, weapons, anything goes. If a little old lady can go out and beat some monster to death with a crooked broom, well that''s her bragging rights. You go broom granny!


    "I remember her? From that farming village, we all went to? Isn''t she making a lot softer better brooms and selling more of them now?"


    "Amar! Shut. I''m thinking about Barbara! And yes, her broom business is doing better. Oh hohoho ho, those tips I gave her really did work out."


    "Oh. Sorry. I hope she''s still making the monster killing ones too, the stablehands say they like them."


    "Well I guess if they sell well during this time of year."


    Ahem. I got too distracted in my thoughts again. I''m trying to notice where the pattern is when I speak my thoughts out loud. Mine is especially bad in this little body. I can''t compare if the original Rosalia ever had such a habit around this young age, not when she so rarely spoke or interacted with anyone. It''s excessive and feels like people are reading my thought. An annoying level even above the usual muttering habits that everyone has.


    "I don''t think other people having muttering habits is normal? You''re the only one I know Rosa. Maybe your mama?"


    "I said shut! This is creepy!"


    "My-my lady''s sp-speaking habits are wonderful! Young Miss?"


    Excuse as I find a dark corner to go mope in. Maybe until I get old enough to stop this stupid loose mouth.


    "It''s fine. You''re not as loud as Lukas?"


    "Absolutely wonderful my-my lady! You speak so much and so sm-smooth!"


    "Your mouth is fine Rosalia. Lots of really funny things come out of it. It''s funny."


    "A-a-a noble sign of your lineage my young mi-miss!"


    "Don''t worry, it''s a lot better than your mama''s. Not as scary. Don''t be sad Rosa. Come on? Come out of there and let''s go eat. We can go ask for grapes for you? Green ones? Currants?"


    I''m very busy moping in here, but it is time for a second breakfast as is the custom on the days I wake early to workout.


    "I''m not craving grapes or anything," I mutter a little grumpily. On purpose I say. On purpose!


    "Uh huh, ok. If you say so." nods Amar as he and Abbey stop comforting me to straight out drag me from the dark arcade corner where I was going to stay till I grew into a proper villainess who can keep her mouth shut. That or until mushrooms grew there. Whatever came first.


    This is truly a bad habit to have. As a villainess it puts me as risk of monologuing all of my potentially evil plans to any protagonists at the last moment, ruining my plots and cutting off all my pathways. The human equivalent to a self destruct button on a ship.


    I shall blame grampa.


    Mother came from the loins of grampa. If this is her fault due to this body''s cursed bad draw of genetics, then it is also grampa''s responsibility. Thus, like always, everything lies with grampa somehow. Great, I feel better already.


    Somehow though, my nervous maid got the wrong impression.


    Poor Abbey, always well-meaning and overworking to the point that it makes me cringe.


    "Th-The young noble miss de-demands grapes!" she shouts the moment we enter through an archway to the side of the kitchens. In her forced breaking voice, it sounds like a high pitched choir of strangled mice.


    I facepalm as Amar giggles softly, grin peeking behind his own hand.


    The nearby kitchen staff on duty turns to the noise, then eyes down on me, the shortest creature here except for any cooking animals.


    "No no, I really don''t demand it. I was just asking opinions earlier which kind is better." I counter, feeling a bit warm in here.


    There''s a collective sigh and everyone is free from the duty of wrangling fresh grapes in the middle of what would be the equivalent of this world''s February to early March. I mean it''s possible, but it would most likely involve grampa''s vineyards. The kitchen staff starts getting loud as people discuss an academic conference of food.


    "If we''re talking grapes, only the deepest duskiest purple ones would do right?"


    "Like you ever had any of those! They''re the hardest ones to get anywhere near let alone sample."


    "I honesly find the ones with a reddish hue to the purple more attractive. Like a blushing maiden."


    "Why are you blushing you pervert? I don''t even like grapes all that much, mulberries are cheaper and better."


    "White ones make the best verjuice. Crush and simmer them."


    "But we''re talking about the eating varieties. It has to be sweet reds. Darks are too rich for my blood."


    "Why eat when you can drink? The best grapes are the ones that have turned into wine."


    "Here here!"


    "Agreed!"


    "I''ll drink to that!"


    Great. They''re nice and distracted. I''m not so small and helpless not to be able to seat myself. The long communal table one of the easiest things to climb up, though I do need a few cushions to reach the table. Climbing the counter is only for cooking and instructing. If I''m just eating I shouldn''t draw so much attention and get in people''s way. A kitchen is a dangerous place full of sharp things, fire and oil.


    A resin glass of dark red orange juice pours right in front of me.


    "Huh, Barbara? What are you doing here when there''s a wedding to plan?" I ask in surprise.


    "Oh. It''s nothing young miss. Still, quite a bit away, there is much to speak of between adults. Got to say, sorry there''s no grapes to juice today. " The kitchen-maid gives me a modest smile, the twitch of anger appropriately disguised underneath.


    Ahhhh I see she''s still fighting with her man. Tsk tsk tsk.


    "That''s okay." I sip at the still very yummy juice.


    Mmmm what a luxury. Such a crimson red fruit, the ultimate blood orange! It tastes more like raspberries. Very flavorful and refreshing. Such citrus would be terribly expensive in the world I''m from while it''s a common local specialty here. The climate and soil in the surrounding southern areas suited for growing all sorts of citrus.


    While I''m drowning myself down in juice, thinking of a way to approach the topic, Barbara smoothly pours two more cups. One slides towards a shakey Abbey, trying to turn down the gesture, the other to a bright-eyed receiving Amar. Kids just love juice.


    But what is this?!


    From behind her apron pouch, Barbara sneaks out a softball sized thing. Trying to roll it subtly under the communal table towards Amar.


    "Thank you!" he smiles, suddenly brighter than the sun. Ow ow ow. Barbara and any nearby kitchen maids squinting in what I assume to be their daily dose of Vitamin C for kiddy cuteness.


    What illegal drug deals are going on now? What have you done to my good kitchens?!


    I switch over my empty cop for Amar''s untouched one. The threat made clear in my glare as his little heart breaks from stolen orange juice.


    "Forgive me young miss, tis of the last pomegranates in the storage. They won''t last past the end of the month." chuckles Barbara, pouring back up the empty glass. Something Amar grabs immediately before I can steal and chug that down too. How rude.


    "Pomegranate? We''re stealing fruit from the kitchens now?" I make to swipe.


    Not only do I miss him, but like a very failed minion in training, surely one of the world''s worse, the brat dares to stick out his tongue at me. Then hops away to the other side of Abigail, with both the juice and the stolen fruit.


    I know now that he would betray me for a pomegranate in a heartbeat. For shame.


    I am concerned about my future already with henchmen like this. But like my little sister''s education, all things must take time and careful planning.


    I hear a sniffle and choked sob, looking up to Abbey expecting the worse. It''s a false accusations though, for my young maid is actually not responsible for the tears. She sits a little questionably, nibbling on her porridge, but innocent none the less.


    Barbara tries to excuse herself, lowering her head low, hankerchief already to her face.


    "What''s wrong?"


    "Pardon me my young mistress, I just-"


    "Sit."


    I make to hop and stand on the table, reach over to gesture and order the kitchen maid down. If it''s a real order, no one can really disobey me. Maybe Georgie, but he''s gotten cheeky over the year. It''s awful. Everyone needs a thorough education in how to be good minions to a lady. But that is a matter for a other day. There a wedding to save.


    She only takes the seat when the surrounding staff silently continue on with their duties, pretending like the know nothing even though they''re listening to every word. Great workplace environment. Can''t be helped.


    "It''s just....even little boys have things they''re stubborn about....not to mention men." she looks up tearily over at Amar, who may or may not be stuffing his face already.


    Tsk tsk tsk.


    "It''s your fiance, you don''t want him to join the hunt and he refused. You don''t want him to because it''s dangerous but he''s ignoring your feelings and said he''ll go anyways. Now you''re mad and fighting." I guess, though at this point it''s pretty obvious.


    Anyone with ears can piece together the puzzle.


    The woman gives be a rather open and shocked face, before breaking out in a helpless sort of laugh.


    "Ahh as expected of our young Miss. Rosalia. Already seeing so much. You''re truely just like our grace, your grandfather."


    I was about to nod, yes yes I am very wise, but the connection to my grampa makes me near fall over. What?! Who''s that you say? Um, what?


    Is the Rosalia translation filter working right? Did I knock something in my ears during today''s headstand practice?


    There''s no room to interrupt with a correction, that earlier statement is impossible. For Barbara meekly dabs that handkerchief to her eyes again.


    "He''s never raised his voice at me before, not even a bit. Or ignored me like this. This...he must be so mad. Oh where did that soft darling go? I don''t understand? If the hunt is to bring something for me, then I don''t want it. I don''t want any of it. I just want him to stay by my side. Is that too much to ask?" she sobs, prompting the easily emotional Abigail to sob back in cries and tearful comforts.


    Oh dear.


    My first reaction is the urge take whatever is nearby, say that spoon, find this man, and wack him with it until he makes Barbara stop crying. For how dare he? If your partner, a person you promise and intend to be with, shares such concern why then he ought not to worry her further. Listen to your wife!


    But that is just my own toddler brain with little self control speaking. I cannot literally smack a grown man into listening to his wife. What kind of marriage would that make?


    "Why would he be mad?" asks Amar, biting into whatever''s on the hot plate just slid to him, practically unaffected by the show in front of him. Typical.


    Hey wait a damn minute, why does he get french toast??! I mean it''s not really french toast, being fried up with fragrant olive oil, nor is it called that. But it''s a pretty luxuriously sweet way to use up old stale bread. That''s not breakfast, that''s dessert! Even more so when I smell traces of spice, spying garnishes of drizzled honey and orange zest. That! I want that one too! Don''t anyone dare give me plain porridge when that''s available on the menu! What is this blatant favoritism? I''m your little boss!


    Oh, I get a fresh plate? With strawberries? Oh yes, that is better, thank you.


    "I don''t know, I don''t understand. Maybe I was never meant to be wed." sniffs Barbara, trying to reign her emotions back in.


    "Why would he be mad? I heard he didn''t even get mad when the other lady he was married to ran away?" Amar reaches over, stealing a strawberry. Hey!


    Stolen fruit aside, that''s very blunt. Anvil to the head blunt with how it knocks everyone down. A very inconsiderate mention of the previous spouse. See, I didn''t even mention Barbara''s dead husband. There are ways around all that. But this is a dumb child that has no idea what he''s saying, ever. Even when he lies.


    "That other lady took her dowery and his money with her and he wasn''t mad. He said that maybe he be madder if she knew where he really kept his savings. Funny right? Oh, you look like you never heard that story? "


    "You. Shut. Barbara doesn''t want to hear that. No lady wants to hear about that!"


    "But he''s not mad? Why would he be mad?"


    "Because men are stupido, I don''t know! He wants to join a stupid hunt but he''s not a soldier or a farmer or anything physically buffed for this. He works accounting! He''s a nerd! He''s going to get killed even worse than Barbara''s first husband. I think our Barbara is stronger than him. She would have a way better chance at surviving at anything." I make to gesture at Barabara''s lovely stock bone chopping arms. Such wonderful arms,


    Then I slap a hand over my mouth too late, slowly looking over to confirm that if Amar''s words were an anvil to the head, mine was a dropped piano. Down 18 flights. Barbara is looking even lower. Looking away I see all kitchen staff in a 50 ft radius quickly scrambling to pretend they weren''t just gasping in glee.


    Gossipers, the lot of you! None of this gets out!


    "Oh. That does sound stupid? But why would he be mad?"


    I''m going to hit this boy with a bowl of porridge. Abbey move over.


    "No no, it''s all true. Truly from the mouth of babes. It''s all true." signs Barbara, looking quite dead inside, an aura of gloom darkening deeper and deeper.


    Um....um, how to fix this? This is not the time to be awkwardly stuffing my face, I know. I''m just stalling. Brain food yes. Delicious brain food.


    "It...it all s-sounds so-so sc-c-scary." choked out Abbey, unfortunetely caught in the middle this whole time and probably 2 seconds away from a nervous breakdown.


    "Yes. Yes I am very scared for him. Terrified. I would do anything to stop him. Even if it means calling this all off." sinks Barbara. I''m not sure how she''s sinking the mood even lower than it is but she''s doing it.


    "So you''re not mad? You sounded mad?" asks Amar, munching on sweet fried toast.


    It was better when he was poisoned silent, much better.


    "Of course not, why would I be mad? I''m so so scared it''s going to happen all over again! Not him, not Nicola. I''ve made my peace with the past but I wouldn''t be able to take it if it happens to Nicola! Not to someone I love-"


    Dramatic gasping echoes from multiple sources around the room. Anywhere I turn, my staff have all given up on pretending like they''re not totally immersed in this drama. A few already have their handkerchiefs and tears out. A few are nibbling on nuts like its popcorn. The windows and doors are open with laundry maids and stablehands crowding. Someone is sobbing into an empty pan, echoing the sound. There are whispers that sound suspiciously like "ooooh this is getting good" or "I knew she never cared for her that man" and even "I wish MY husband got crushed to death by a swamp boar back when I was still young and pretty."


    The household staff of the great Ventrellas everyone. An unreachable standard of professionalism and grace.


    "Sc-scary." squeaks Abbey, terrible uncomfortable in the dramatic silence as all eyes focus in on the scene. She drooped in her seat as if she could slide to cower underneath the table unnoticed.


    "It''s scary," I repeat, comprehension dawning. "He''s scared. He''s scared! I don''t know why but he''s scared of the same thing."


    Barbara gives me an incredulous look to the sound of a live audience gasping and reacting. Someone shushes loudly like this was a movie theatre. After this wedding business is all over I need to think of a way to keep the people here all better entertained. This is just embarrassing.


    "If he was scared, if he had any sense then we would have listened when I begged him not to do this." the lead actress to this bad drama sighs.


    "No, not scared of the hunt. You''re scared! You''re scared what happened to you will happen all over again. He''s the same, you said you would leave him! He''s scared you''ll leave him, just like what happened to him!" I deduce, pointing straight to woman.


    Okay this well-timed audience gasping is allowed for today, but it really does have to stop after this. This is not a theatre.


    Oh....a theatre? Hmmm.


    "But...but that''s just silly. How could I ever...why anyone in their right mind ever want to leave Nicola?"


    The audience gasping has turned to awwing, they''ve turned to mush at this mushiness.


    "The other lady did." chews Amar.


    Porridge bowl. Let me at him.


    "She''s a fool then." bit out Barbara, hands clenched and lips tight. Ah poor thing, and for all this to be so public too. Who knows how long this is going to be talked about?


    "Okay, wrap You''re both stupid fools that can''t think clearly for many reasons like love. Great. Barbara, I order you to return to directly go talk to your fiance! Talk. For real. Be honest! Get both sides worked out. You are not to return to work without this worked out! Capiche?" I announce with a fork.


    "My young miss....I thank you for your concern, all of you. But-"


    Again the audience awws.


    "But Nicola must be busy doing important right now, unlike little old me. He''s...he''s educated...and ...and he could do a whole lot better than a widowed servant woman..."


    "Shut! Hush hush hush, nope none of that." I declare, popping a strawberry into her mouth before anymore sobbing happens.


    Ah, lots to talk out, as we can all see. This just proves my point.


    "Do you dare disobey a direct order me I, the eldest young miss of the house Ventrella. The very house that not only you but your beloved Nicola are employed in? Who, on my word, can be dismissed with a ruined reputation, stained and blacklisted from any respectable place of employment so long as I please? Do you dare?"


    ".....no....no my young lady."


    "Then dismissed! You''re dismissed to go follow your orders. Orders that I personally made. Go get him!" out of blind impulse I hand her the fork, and push her up and forward.


    Out of even blinder impulse, following the flow and momentum the audience rowdily cheers, pushing Barbara out even further. A small sea of staff members, causing a wave and commotion as they escort her like a hungry mob out of the kitchen and down the hallways and up the stairs to where a blissfully ignorant accounting department lies.


    Sweet blissful silence returns, and I finally take back my seat to resume my meal gone cold and strawberryless.


    "That was funny."


    Abbey move, I''m going to kill this brat! He''s already brain damaged, what''s a little more to shut him up?! Gimmie that porridge bowl. Wait, why settle for a porridge bowl? There''s the whole pot left unsupervised. Mad? Mad?! I''ll show you mad. How dare you eat all my strawberries!


    I was looking forward to those!

 103 Morning After

    There is a shiny on the floor.


    A lucky penny I suppose. It''s nothing but a small copper but I bend to pick it up anyways. It''s not an unreasonable thing for someone to drop a little coin.


    Slipped from a sleeve, a loose belt purse. Maybe, god forbid, a newly made pocket.


    It is however quite unreasonable for there to be a line of such shiny minted coins.


    There are subtly placed a bit of a distance away from one another, however upon retrieving one coin, the eye spots the next. Then the next and so forth. One shiny after another, coppers with the occasional small silver.


    Did someone''s money pouch develop a hole?


    I follow along, collecting the money as I go. If the poor staff member reports the missing funds then at least I can reimburse them a verified portion. If not then that''s free money! Even if its a just copper I can''t say no to free money. Money is precious.


    To the people who say that money can''t solve your problems, well then obviously they must not have had enough money to solve them! Money money money~


    Ignoring the obvious trap that is the money trail I follow along from hallway to hallway to my father''s work quarters. Money money money~ lalala~ All I wanna do is bang bang bang cha ching and take your money~ All I wanna do is-


    I sing softly. Amusing myself with another world very not toddler appropriate choir of a song while picking shiny coins like they''re wild mushrooms in the woods. Finally, the trail goes cold, a little after turning into a room and leading right up to the littlest desk I have ever seen in this world.


    Absolutely tiny. Practically a child''s playset. Something Lilyanne at her current age would have no problem climbing and taking a seat on the baby chair.


    Out of curiosity, I approached the table, grimacing at the small stack of parchment and leather-bound books. Their contents looking suspiciously like homework problems and writing worksheets. A cup of brightly short brightly colored quill pens, too small for any adult to use rest on top.


    Great.


    Just great.


    "Well that worked disappointingly well."


    A polished wooden sliding screen folds to reveal a neat and darkly dressed Alfonso on the other side, my father seated behind a normal sized desk. The nerd tsks while looking down at me in a manner that most would call intimidating and judgemental. He taps at his cheek, looking almost bored. That''s when I notice how the wall on his side of the room contains a long vertical window that was most certainly not visible from outside. It''s more than transparent enough, the entirety of the abbey and courtyard on the other side clearly visible.


    If one wanted to spy on stupid little girls bobbing their head, picking things off the ground, and maybe making gun signs and cash register effect, well then they would have had a perfect view a minute ago.


    Curses.


    "Greetings honorable father. I seem to have stumbled upon a work station unannounced. It was not my intention. Do forgive my lost misdeed. Good day now." I bow, quickly walking backwards.


    "Have a seat Chippy."


    The door closes with no one to close it. It''s some bad movie special effects. So close. I was so close to inching my way out of here.


    I eye the play desk warily, obviously being the only other seat in the room, on any side of the screen. The thing already looking quite frightening despite the look and scent of newly polished wood.


    It appears to be a special commission. No one their right mind would try making let alone selling a desk set that small. It''s something that could only fit a very small child. Something that they would soon outgrow in a few short years. What a waste of wood.


    "There?" I ask, side-eyeing the thing.


    "Alfonso, it appears my young daughter needs to be escorted to her seat."


    "Right away my Lord."


    With a flourish, Alfonso bows low. Getting on his knees in front of the kiddy desk to pull the seat out, patting at the extra short seat before bowing again in place.


    I think they''re making fun of me.


    Left with a little choice and a mockingly low Alfonso pulling out the chair, I take the seat. He pushes me in and the entire thing god damn rolls.


    The desk is so low that it only requires one thick cushion for me to reach and....oh never mind. It''s a slate desk. How does this lever work? How far can it go? Where are the cranks and wheels angled in this thing? Is it hidden in the wooden paneling? Oh ho ho ho I see I see.


    Let''s not play too much with that lest these paper stuff and supplies go spilling. No matter what world it''s no fun to pick up on spilled ink.


    Alfonso wheels me across the screen divider, placing me at a scrutinizing position angled across my father''s full-sized desk. It''s quite the awkward place to be.


    "This is a rather wasteful commission is it not father?" I try making myself comfortable, trapped with no exit, and already fearing for the rest of my day.


    "Oh no at all. I was quite fascinated by the concept of a miniature desk. How small it could be made. I admit woodworking is not one of my gifts, best left to paid artisans, as were the paneling, but the function gears and sides were in the same vein as a design of a butter churner. Quite amusing."


    "....."


    "Do test it out for my observations Chip dear."


    If I ever needed a desk to facepalm myself into, well here it is. Apparently laboriously crafted by the nerd himself.


    Curse him.


    Curse him and all these random nerd skills he manages to have under his belt. What the hell? How much work did he avoid and time wasted in the creation of the toddler play desk?


    "I''ve heard quite the most interesting thing happen yesterday." quips my father, not even looking up from his work.


    Trapped. I am trapped like a rat in a trap.


    "Oh?"


    I gulp, schooling my face into an expression of innocent indifference. Because they''re watching. Somehow, someway, they''re watching me. That much is clear.


    "Yes. A great mob flooded to the household''s accounting department."


    "...."


    "A truly surprising incident. Alfonso remind me again."


    "My Lord. Multiple reports including contents of: ''the entirety of the downstairs staff'', onlooking, cheering, and making merry. No work could be done for the remaining of the morning hours straight through luncheon."


    "...."


    "My, what a preposterous thing. What, my dear young imp, do you take of such an episode?" father looks almost bored. He must have been, due to the existence of the damn rat trap play desk


    "....bad discipline." I spit out, making eye contact with anything and everything but my father.


    What is this, a bad interrogation? How was I supposed to know everyone was that desperate for a show? I didn''t know they would flash mob it? You really should do something about that staff discipline


    "What a thing for our household, is it not Alfonso? An almost comedic show. Our standards haven''t fallen to such an extent for people to abandon their posts in waves to ''make merry''. Though I do understand how people tend to get right after winter."


    "Indeed my Lord. A grave show of disorder."


    "I don''t expect that they were...incited in any way or manner? For such a unified manner of disruption. A mass gathering would be unthinkable without... a catalyst?"


    Oh my would you look at that? These worksheets suddenly look oh so very interesting. Oh yes, I do need to practice my handwriting, how helpful. Hmmm.


    "Rosalia? Doll of my darling? Corner crust of a torte de riso and singing helion of my inner courtyards, would you have any idea whatever could have occurred? Anything you have seen or heard?"


    "....."


    "Perhaps during the hour of your ''second breakfast'', yesterday took in the heart of the lower kitchens? Before the majority of our fine household''s employees turned to a violent mob, storming the poor upstairs?"


    "...."


    "Biting your lip and squirming is as telling as a confession Rosa dear. Do try to improve."


    "...Yes Father."


    "Your face is inadequate on either end of the spectrum. We''ve been over that. Indifference doesn''t work as a child your age wouldn''t be capable. Aim for a reasonable 30-60% of your sister''s daily expressions."


    "Yes, Father.


    "I understand you and your mother do enjoy ''weddings'' and such. It is not my intention to spoil your amusements my dear. However, we do not incite flash mobs nor threaten our employees so blatantly. Do you understand?"


    "Yes, Father. No starting mobs and threatening."


    "What was it Alfonso, that was the weapon reported to take my accounting floor by storm?"


    "A fork my Lord. An imported cutlery fork, blessed by the mouth of our young miss, and turned a tiny pitchfork of symbolism."


    "Ah yes. Rosalia. We do not bestow upon untrained employees....weapons. No matter how ornamental they may be. Do you happen to know just how many people, soft defenseless people, were threatened with a said fork?"


    I sink, making myself as small as possible in the desk and looking busy with the obviously assigned homework. It does not work, for the interrogation, torture does not end.


    "I....was eating with that? You really ought to set some better discipline on the staff. They''re were quite lax and unpredictable. "


    "Yes. I''ve noticed. " drolls father, setting aside a new stack of books. Books that are swiftly transferred down by Alfonso, landing with a solid thud on my baby play desk.


    I don''t think he means the much-needed staff retraining. Boo hoo, woe is me. Neither one of my parents is safe. I''m bound to be grounded on either side. I knew it, I am a cursed and abused child. It''s homework. Hoooooommmeeework.


    "Ahem...um, surely the matter of the mob....dispersed? Everyone''s back to work today no?" I try, hoping against physics that the stack was not growing at the rate I''m so seeing.


    "For the most part," waves off father, hand coming to rest at his forehead, as if in a headache. "your mother handled it."


    "That''s good?"


    "You''re mother is currently ill. Sleeping off the ''making merry'' right now still as we speak. Something that she took upon herself to make even more ''merry'', involving the stores of wine. This morning it took an investigative team to track down and release my accountant and the kitchenmaid from the exact storeroom she had them locked in, hours overdue from his post."


    I feel my blood pressure drop. Mother....whatever did you do? Mother? Can this wedding still even proceed? What will become of your ribbon selection decor or my more important banquet menu? What!?


    "Alfonso, would you say my child has been increasingly idle as of late? Skipping out on her lessons and playing with unclean little things that make one ill?"


    "I suppose my Lord, no more so than any other child out lady''s age."


    "Ah yes. The childhood activities of poisoning and mob inciting. My how times have changed from what I recall. Tell me again Alfonso, just what my old lessons consisted of."


    No need. I''ll be good. I''m doing my homework now. Look, I''ve picked up the quill and dippy dippy. Just wheel me in the corner and leave me there.


    Which is precisely what Alfonso takes to doing. My book heavy play desk wheeled to directly face the wall. It''s actually the corner, in full view of father I''m sure. A kiddy punishment that no amount of trembling or crocodile tears can get me out of. I''m not Lilyanne. No amount of sobbing will save me from the nerd.


    If I was my sister I could cry and play being sick. That got her away from many tutoring lessons.


    If I try the same thing I fear I will only get a mocking glance over. Perhaps another scathing review on my inadequate performance. Ah yes, that''s father alright. Cursed nerd, strict with the homework when it comes down to it.


    I have no choice but to diligently scribble away, occasionally changing subjects and getting further instructions from Alfonso. Even as my butt gets sore and legs get twitchy from staying in one spot for so long. I am still, after all, a physical toddler. There''s a fearsome amount of energy in here. Looks like today will be another day to skip nap time.


    I finally get a break after two turns of the hourglass. How horrid. Forcing a child to stay so still for this long. It goes against all child welfare and common sense. It''s already past lunchtime! No other 3 year old would be able to stand it!


    "I did."


    "Your memories are not reliable father. " I sob ignoring him in my pained plight.


    Ow ow ow. My little baby hand is stiff in cramps and stained in ink. Handwriting practice sucks.


    "Hmm judging from your previous performances, an allocated 5 hours a day seems reasonable for your current age. You''re currently quite idle seeing the cancellation of this year''s visit. "


    "Huh?!"


    Given that no one but the wall can see my facial reactions I snap and motion for Alfonso to turn me around, doing that all over again when I''m facing the right way.


    "Pardon me father, do you mean to say?"


    "5 hours. A day. If not in my offices than with your personalized instructors. If your new tutors prove inadequate, make yourself known to either Alfonso or directly to my studies. "


    I test out the durability of the play desk with my face. Slam.


    Yep. Very sturdy thing with a smooth surface. Very suitable item to cry on. It''s just like school all over again.


    With a snap of his hand, father has Alfonso lift my limp beaten form out of the play desk and onto the main desk. Wonderful, another surface to mope on.


    "Father is this not too unreasonable? I''m only 3!" I make to gesture, holding out that exact number of fingers.


    Previously I''ve proved myself with the tutors. The two of them turned three, now in charge of Ventrella employee benefit adult re-education classes. I didn''t go overboard and scare them with all that I know of course. Just perform beyond my age group by a few years or so.


    Think I need help to pronounce my name or starting on my letters? Ha! I''m not wasting my very limited time playing pre-pre school.


    But that doesn''t mean I want actual schooling in such dull or useless things.


    The contents of my homework only getting more and more tedious as the difficulty goes up. The average level now something of what the original Rosalia would be learning at the age of 8. I can''t say that''s the average level of a child given the ''personalized'' lessons Rosalia received, but it''s the only reference I can use. Right now, the means a painful playback review of the aristocratic subjects and manners of study. I do put in the effort to ''play dumb'' or pretend I don''t know how to read beyond a certain level but it''s all just so dull to play along. Best to pass and avoid, like skipping some grades.


    The only thing I can completely avoid now would be etiquette and embroidery. I''m already forced to practice reading musical notes.


    I admit it''s my fault on many accounts. A 3-year-old should not have my reading levels....or many levels. But it''s already a very strange world and I can''t be blamed for that! It''s also my fault for misunderstanding some of father''s previous ''homework''. I took them too seriously like they were a job. OF course, he wasn''t really expecting me to get market expenditures done. It''s all my for getting others to previously help cheat on some ''problem solving'' market problems and household accounts, but it''s lies.


    All lies. Don''t give me any harder math, I can''t take it! No no no!


    I don''t do accounting, never did, not my department! I was not an economic''s major. Too high applications of numbers and spreadsheets make my head spin. Bargaining prime spots and multiple advertising rates was as far as I was willing to go for the job. Anything further was out of my hands, not my responsibility. Nope nope nope. Give me a budget and I will work with that. Hell tell me to fix or make a budget and I can do that. Don''t make me count anymore, especially if we''re working with stocks. The highest related course I ever took in actual school was business calculous and I want no more of that!


    I hate this nerd. Hate him so bad. He went off and died then left me with such a headache. Too much money is also a type of sin. Handling it is a great sin few can afford.


    My assigned homework is still the easy stuff. Tedious matters to throw at a child to play at, no matter the results. It''s nothing compared to the general ledgers and accounts that father keeps stored away, not unlike a portfolio collection.


    The things I took easy, too for granted while this damn nerd was alive, crashed all on Rosalia little head over a lifetime ago. It took sitting at the big table too soon to truly realize that not all nobles operated equally. That though money may be hidden, not everyone kept such detailed ledgers. Not every family knew how to make double-entry bookkeeping systems.


    Why didn''t the original father ever tell me anything practical? Those details would have been very helpful in swallowing down the decoding of all our family''s hidden assets. The secret guards? Could have told me somewhere in those years that I was inheriting a secret very shady unit of guards.


    Oh, I remember now, because he''s a damn nerd that sucks at communicating!


    All he knows is nerding, being gross and money. As the world knows, money makes money.


    Money lending is scary and bad. Blah blah blah, the church doesn''t approve blah blah baloney. a whole system, I understand where the confusion lies. For most of the uneducated population, banks were big bad scary things no different than hated loan sharks and petty local gangsters demanding protection fees. Hell, even some idiotically wasteful nobles think that way.


    Times are already changing.


    Oh lord, the banks. Something so small, so new to this still-growing society. Nothing but local lending offices and storage for places that can''t afford the house a guild. To trust a bank is a gamble that you don''t take likely. Nothing like the modern financial institutions I know from another world. Something no one could have predicted to grow the way it did.


    Not now, not even in 10 years, but it will come.


    How hateful, how amusing, for the largest rising bank to be reigned by the hands of an illegitimate Bichhieri.


    It took me years to figure it out, the hidden financial ties that my father''s birth family held. Just how much wealth they truly controlled. How else they could block and play with so many major ports across city states and nations. Made me laugh like crazy that I was hardly behind Philippe in what I knew, managed to learn, when he was living in it! Ahahahahahaha!


    That bastard sure gave him a good run.


    It''s still too early. All of father''s siblings are still alive and well. Philippe is still the only boy borne by a son of the family. Thus, those people should still be hidden peacefully away.


    Eight. I was eight years old when eldest uncle passed away. The main Bicchieri''s won''t be welcoming civil war in their homes for at least another 5 years. They won''t make their hidden banks public for an even longer time than that.


    God damn banking.


    "When I was your age it was 8 hours a day. Perhaps your mother is right, I do spoil you." father ponders, unaware of all the truths I have annoyingly stuffed in my head.


    Hate him. I am not spoiled, I am full of suffering.


    "...That''s illega- nevermind. Father...that''s impossible for a small child."


    "Alfonso?"


    "Twas 8 hours a day and preparation, practice and lessons my lord. Your schedule had been updated with the utmost scrutiny, blocked appropriately for meals, and a required child''s rest, all from the time my young lord could walk."


    "Right then. 5 hours?"


    "A mere 5 hours were your weekends my Lord. A quite generous schedule in comparison."


    "5 hours it shall be then, five days a week. Depending on your performance, I may see to it that we either increase or decrease your study time."


    My jaw drops. My brain already calculating the sheer painful boredom of all those hours. All of it cruelty beyond belief. If what my father and his butler speak of is true then he is merely continuing the cycle of abuse from his own childhood.


    I guarantee you, Phillipe is not getting these hours of study at this age, let alone when he was as small as me. What awful standards are these? They''re even worse than what the original goods suffered through.


    At least my official queen''s lessons don''t start till I''m at least 5. Then the hell really starts. Father was always oddly strict with lessons but why are we so keen on kickstarting me down such a painful path right now?


    At this moment, father deems it appropriate to take advantage of my open mouth, throwing in strange objects and closing my jaw up to chew. Ack! Watch it, I could choke!


    Sweet juice pops in my mouth, the shock of mild sour skin making me scrunch up in displeasure. It burns down my throat as I cough.


    "According to the schedule, it''s time for luncheon. Is it not?"


    "Certainly my lord, on days without morning exercises and a ''second breakfast'', tis indeed the common hour young miss Rosalia takes luncheon, followed my various slots of ''snacks''. "


    "Hmm, I do suppose children need to intake more nutrients. Very well then, I''ll allow it. Prepare the table outside. " waves my father lazily, finding it far more interesting try to pop grapes into my mouth.


    The hell! Where did those come from?


    In the time that I''ve been facing the wall, a platter of multicolored grapes has magically appeared on my father''s counter desk. The bunches sectioned and colored, a bit of chilled wet droplets still clinging to the orbs.


    When my jaw drops again, he takes the opportunity to stuff my face further, changing up the color of the grape. It''s a wheel of green, purples and even pale yellow on the platter.


    "Those aren''t in season yet." I mumble and choke, grapes squishing in my cheeks.


    "They are in the South Eastern vineyards." answers father, curiously picking his next grape color as if it were choice of paint on a palette.


    I try not to think too hard about how they were even rush delivered from said vinyards. Bird? Beasts? Magic drones? Just what? Just why grapes and when were they....


    "Father....exactly how many secret guards are following me now?"


    "As many as need be," he answers plainly, selecting a pale yellow-green to lazily throw at me.


    "Are they always listening in and spying? This is a rather disturbing treatment." I chew.


    It''s not that I particularly like them, I''m just hungry from all this awful studying past my lunch hour. What useless info you''ve seemed to have gathered father.


    "Given your tendency for trouble and harm? As much as need be."


    "...."


    "Which grape do you prefer? Tide yourself over till luncheon."


    I pout and throw a damn grape at him. This is a great invasion of my privacy! I understand the increase in hidden guards but not all the hidden spies, listening in and possibly misconstruing what I may do or say. How dangerous.


    I of all people know just how dangerous, how thorough my father''s secret guards can be. I will have no true sense of privacy at all. What if they gather enough evidence to come to the correct conclusion? That I''m not actually of this world and am instead another entity just waiting till I''m grown enough to make off with a portion of this Ventrella money.


    This level of distrust is simply atrocious! As a reincarnation, this is just too dangerous. I will not stand for it.


    "Chip?" My father asks as I make a mess of his current papers, rolling off his lap and onto the floor.


    "I don''t want the secret guards following me around like that. It''s ridiculous!"


    "Chip. Get out from there."


    "No. They can''t see me under here. I bet they can''t hear me either." I roll, dark and hidden under the normal sized desk.


    Am I being very effective? Honestly no. Am I petty? Yes, very.


    The action causes my father to give a sigh, one that sounds both tired and indulgent. As if he''s used to nonsense worse than this on a daily. Which....given my current mother and grampa, is quite likely the case.


    That''s fine. I''m very busy thinking about how to finally end the secret guards off my trail. I''m being spied on too much. The grapes are the most current damn evidence.


    "Does it displease you, darling?" leans father, his shadow still visible where I''ve childishly decided to stay for this tantrum.


    "Quite."


    My case obviously isn''t being taken seriously as my father merely chuckles, reaching in to pick me back up like a helpless pet. It is not an amused chuckle, which is only reason I dare not to struggle too violently.


    I look around to find no one else in the room, Alfonso already out to his duties. Aka there are no witnesses if I scream or die.


    Hey, I may be a little presumptuous is assuming my father wouldn''t just get rid of me but uh, that does not exclude torturing me. Hey nerd, stop being scary. You stop that right this instance. Go back to drafting so loans or something.


    "You would be wise to think then, how much it displeased me to hear you''ve gone and poisoned yourself. In great measure and rarity. Both the first and the second incident."


    Gulp.


    Well now, can''t argue against that. I am guilty as charged for both accounts. Not that it was my fault but, well it did happen regardless.


    "Darling little gremlin of mine. Did you not think there would be repercussions for breaking and entering through magical barriers, time and time again? A delightful skill I must say, a very troublesome one in the hands of anyone, let alone a 3-year-old."


    Oh, would you look at that? I''m suddenly so hungry, nom nom nom. Don''t mind me, just chomping on some grapes.


    "Doesn''t mean I need all the spy guards." I grimace, spitting out a seed. Phew, I prefer my seedless variety.


    "Yes. Yes, it does mean you need them. If not for our peace of mind than for your own safety. You have the prodigious talent of jeopardizing both."


    "Mmmm." I sound, still very displeased.


    I''ve never had the secret guards sicked on me in my life, any of them. How horrid. This puts a great handicap on absolutely everything if my every action and words are spied on and supervised by my parents. Who do they think they are?!


    Besides the parents of toddlers.


    In fact, I was the one ordering secret guards on Lilyanne or potential enemies. You''ve completely got the wrong girl!


    "Why doesn''t Lily have secret stupid guards?" I whine, stalling as I think of a way to haggle out of this.


    "Who says your sister doesn''t?"


    "Amar and Lukas."


    The grape in father''s hand suddenly goes squish.


    "That''s....not how you make jam?" I try, staring at the sad mush.


    "Jam? ....Yes what a methodical ...idea."


    Oh dear. Why are both my parents so out to murder my minions, each in their own ways?


    "Really now father, it''s a great waste of resources to put your people on kiddy tailing duties. Having so many highly trained guards, I bet they''re quite suitable for a range spy work and assassination- not that I would know or anything. Making them watch me is as creepy as it is unnecessary. Very gross. I''m sure it''s tedious for them as well. Babysitting usually isn''t in the contract."


    "On the contrary my dear.... they''re getting quite the .... exercise."


    "Oh. Well, don''t punish them too hard. Those brats are weird. But that''s sort of why they''re useful enough to consider as minions in training. "


    "...."


    "You can keep tailing them for now, especially Amar because I''m pretty sure he''s lies about a lot more things but I don''t know how you can tail Lukas when he''s off with Gable. Not that you can gather much info spying on him. Did you realize what absolute monsters they are? At their age! I Grampa really collects lots of strange sorts."


    "....."


    "Plllllleeeeeeeease take the secret guards off me? Father, I beseech thee. Release me from them."


    I would get on my knees if I wasn''t currently dangling in my father''s hold. Common sense doesn''t seem to work on the case, neither does arguing my case. In fact, I have a rather weak one given my latest history of child injury and poisonings. But again, not entirely my fault.


    Cuteness is not a thing I can use effectively against the nerd. That''s better reserved for someone like mother, who lives by an honorable code of cuteness rules all. But even this singleminded man had his soft moments towards my sister.


    Sure he can absolutely see through my Lilyanne act but it doesn''t hurt to try with a little humbleness, a little pitiful. What''s that ratio again? 30-60% Lilyanne in my expression? I''m still a woman. That much I can do!


    Long piano fingers pinch painful at my cheek, ruining any pitiful cuteness I managed to build up. Ow ow ow. Mission failed, this is what I get for attempting a 50% Lilyanne. Ow ow ow.


    "Disgusting. Don''t use those eyes in public. Ever."


    "Ack, okay okay. Ow ow ow, my cheekssse"


    "Still disgusting. Never. Do not show this ever to mankind."


    Ouch, harsh much?


    Maybe I should request for a mirror? After getting rid of these pesky spying guards that is. I have a very advantageous face given this body''s genetics. But I have to find its most effective charming points. What a waste it would be not to be able to use this weapon just because of the mismatching soul and villainous persona.


    Right right, lets practice the perfect smiles and puppy dog pouts when I get the chance. Let''s not pout my failure too hard for today.


    Still, can''t this awful man be a little gentler with a maiden''s self-confidence? I''m still physically your daughter you know? Calling my best wide-eyed ''beseeching'' look disgusting is a little much. That was my free dinner face you know?


    You know, the kind where you turn down the other guy''s offer to pay for you. Take out your wallet, put on a little cute struggle, and then actually not pay? Yes that one, the harder to master than it looks classic!


    Ah I ate so well with that face! So many companies deals sealed.


    So what if it was disgusting to those in the know? It works! Funny enough I remember how a certainly displeased brat kept saying something very similar to father just now... stupid Jung-Joon.


    It may have been an imitation but it was well based on angels in another world''s most renowned classical paintings. It''s art! A good mix of simple timeless elegance and innocent slightly tragic beauty. An imitation is better than nothing, work what you got! I really felt like that sort of expression would be effective.


    Is it because I relied too much on my experience with my old face?


    Right right, they''re different faces. I just need more practice with this one.


    Afterall I was never so potentially beautiful! Will work on a more convincing begging puppy dog eye. On many expressions. After all this is the face of...a villainess! Of course it''s beautiful. Rich villainess usually are. Ohho ho ho ho!


    Ah I''m just complaining about the frustrations of my heart because nothing is going my way today.


    "Remember never to turn such eyes to other men. Especially in public."


    "Yes, father."


    "This applies to brats as well. None. All males. Do you hear me? None of this upturned kitten eyes nonsense. I shudder at the thought of the disgrace."


    "Yes, father. I understand. I will work on it. I beseech you to release my face."


    My poor cheeks. I''m going to need a face mask tonight, a soothing one. Father is always awful around lessons. It''s good that he stayed in to do his paperwork today but personally I think I like him better when he''s being gaga over vegetables or waterwheels. Easier to control. Ow.


    "The risk factor is too high, given the very short history of your life. Behave and we shall see if a reduction of guards is a luxury we can afford. The hidden and public guardsmen stay, no matter how many you hear may or may not be there....Damn brats."


    I monotonously let out another sound of agreement, not missing the scathed out-breath at the end. Ah, father really isn''t too happy about the secret guards being found out that easy. I hope their punishment isn''t too bad. Specially trained or not they''re still just Ventrella employees on the payroll.


    I wonder how many there are at this point in time?


    "Yes father."


    Father picks my truly defeated form up, limp in his hold as he walks me outside the room. I''m simply too small and weak to get my way. Escape is still so far it''s practically impossible. Ah, life is cruel but today is particularly crueler.


    "Darling!!! I missed you~" comes a frail sickly sweet voice.


    All of the sudden strength returns to my body and I quickly clutch to my father''s jacket, trying to burrow my way into the opening. In return, father''s hold of me gets even tighter, as if he equally agrees the only safe place for me to go is in in in and out of sight.


    "Maria? Love? You''re up?" he inquires, playing cool as we still hide in the abbey way.


    From the peeks I get, the courtyard has been prepared with a too large luncheon table. My mother hardly dressed sits slumped with her hair scandalously left undone. If I look closer I can see the dark circles of a hangover and the fact that she''s barefoot.


    Oh the horror.


    "Darling, oh boo hoo hoo. I''m not as young as I used to be. I don''t bounce back quite as well as I did back then. Did I make too awful of a mess last night? Oh I just know I did. Boo hoo hoo. Gable always warned me not to mix my liquors oh but how do you say no to toasts?! Oh I do so hope that lovely couple made up! Can''t plan a wedding without a couple to be wed." she whines, delicately sipping a goblet of red.


    I will assume that it is my beloved orange juice and not anything.


    "Yes dear. I''m sure they did. They were found....quite contented. Are you sure you''re feeling....well enough to be up and out? Shall I call for anything?" inches my father, as if he could make it just out the now isolated courtyard.


    Seriously where did everyone go? Where are all the servants? Did they just set up the table, which is looking more brunch than lunch, and run off to safety? They must have, that''s the only explanation.


    "Oh darling, I can''t remember right anything after the 14th toast. I must have been awful. Did I cry too much again? You must find me very disgusting at that and this current point?"


    "Oh no my love, I thought the way you held your liquor was quite commendable. "


    "I remember crying! Oh but not about what? Oh my head, I''m fading darling. I''m losing my youth healthy and beauty, boo hoo hoo. You didn''t come to bed last night? Was I really so deplorable?"


    "Not at all. You could never. You were ill from too much to drink and I would never forgive myself for harming you. Now stay there and rest up Maria, let''s fetch you....a shawl... or coat. "


    So close, so close to freedom. I don''t know what hungover mother is like and I don''t want to really find out. Go go go father, get me out of here!


    "Oh but Frederick daaaaaarrrrrlllling. I don''t want a coat. Not unless it''s yourrrrs~....Darling. Darling where are you going? Frederick. Don''t you dare walk be thinking of running away from me again?"


    "Of couse not dear, just...dropping something off. Then I''ll be right back to see to your ever fine whim."


    "Frederick...take off your coat. Frederick, what are you hiding in there?"


    NO! So close!!!! I was so close!!!!

 104 Milk and Tea?

    "Your baby sister is weird!"


    A messy brat burst noisily through the wooden window of my soap shed. It is such a great shock that my young maid Abbey screams and clammers under the table. Thank you Abbey. A more than adequate reaction to this sitcom.


    I''ve been busy lately trying to pretend I don''t have a sister.


    Impossible given the major plot to this story but the key words is ''trying''. Especially during these very boring ''safe'' period of growing up. I''ve been ignoring she exists. Not when she gets to play with Gable and I don''t.


    Of course that means grampa too but still! Trips to Gables? Playtime with Gable?!!


    While I''m trapped with the nerd and all this blasted homework?! It''s utterly unfair! At least my new assigned homework, I managed to get sectioned off. Afterall father can''t trap, let alone personally watch me at all hours of the day. He has too much work for that.


    Besides, that''s what the secret guard is for I suppose. Still working on getting rid of that. Not like I go anywhere when I''m grounded.


    The heavens are cruel as they are unjust.


    But Lukas, looking like a miserable drowned cat, brings my attention not only back the unfair existence of my sister but the mystery behind his very sorry appearance. Just what happened to him?


    "Are you...covered in milk?" I ask, sniffing the boy as he drips all over the window and floor when crawling in..


    "Milkygoats!" he screams.


    "Um...ok? What does that have to do with my sister? Did grampa and Gable bring her back?"


    "Milkygoats!!!" he repeats, waving his sad little fists. I flinch as droplet shake out with him. A wet cat with his heckles raised.


    "....Yeah, I''m still lost. Abbey, get out from under there and bring some towels...you know what, change that to a wash basin. He''ll fit. "


    Off my little maid scampers to the shallow pot by the fire. Making soap and lotions is messy work, even the finishing cutting and packaging. That''s why hot towels are worth the trouble to keep around here when we''re working.


    It''s fine if I do my homework while in the soap room yes? Multi-tasking! Let''s test out these bottle designs. Oil versus lotions. Ceramic jars, glass, and resin. What product stores and works best with what available material? It''s looking a little less Lush soap store and slowly more apothecary in these storage rooms of late. I''ve lost count of how many testers we have but it''s fine if Abbey has it written down somewhere.


    I''ve been trying to make wedding favor- err I mean packaging research on my items when Lukas burst in here so distressed. What surprised me most is how he''s at a lost for words. Milky goats being the most repeated horror of the moment.


    The brat takes no shame in flinging off his milk-soaked clothes. An absolute wild child. Yes that means getting milky butt naked and cleaned off by the fire.


    Abbey, I demand a thorough cleaning, milk smells awfully sour when it dries. Clean him. No no no not that soap, citrus won''t go well with all that milk.


    Like a plucked white radish Lukas floats about, blowing bubbles frustratedly underwater. If I didn''t know that monster so well, I would worry he was trying to drown himself in there and not just screaming.


    "Milky goats!" he screams.


    "What about milky goats" I tap, finishing up this particalar set of homework to put away. Lest Lukas finishes him improptu bath and comes splashing out like a wet dog.


    "Give me back Amar!" he announces, pointing a wet hand and finger at me from the edge of the little tub. Something more used to mixing soap that washing filthy little boys. Two in one!


    "What?" I am confused.


    "Take the stinky baby back and give me Amar! Stop stealing him!"


    "One....I didn''t take Amar. Two. Just what?"


    "She bites and smells and cries like a chicken and I''m tired of milking new goats or chores or punishments! How was I supposed to know you''re not supposed to leave stupid babies on the udders or let them go?!! She hung on fine?! Trade me back Amar! Wait no, you stole him! Stop getting Abbey and Georgie to steal him from me! "


    Very confused indeed. I turn to Abbey, who gives me an equally lost look and on my command takes a giant wooden ladle to spin and stir the Lukas soup.


    "One. Once again, I did not kidnap anyone."


    "Liar liar pants on sticky fire!"


    "Am not. I don''t even know where Amar is? Now let me finish."


    Last I saw him was days ago, playing hide and seek with the secret guards. Something my father has assured me would stay on any troublemaking kiddy in range. Unfortunately, that includes me. Great.


    Well, at least I don''t have to worry about the other brat going around unsupervised. Amar doesn''t seem like he''s as bad as Lukas but when he gets into trouble, it''s a toxic housefire, literally.


    I heard he was back at the troops? Concerning, but again, something my father pleasantly assured me he had handled. Now that''s even more suspicious. Too suspicious when it had the nerd smiling. Despite my overall lack of a reaction I do know how my father feels about these brats but....well that''s an issue for another day.


    "One, I did not kidnap any brat! If my staff are....um, well that''s still not me."


    "You''re the brat!"


    "Shush and get clean. Abbey mix him again. Anyways, two. What have you done to my sister?"


    "Nothing! She''s the one who chewed on my boot, and my icky homework, Cap''s chest udder even though humans don''t make milk like goats but she doesn''t know that because she''s a drooly baby, and Gable''s hair."


    "She did what?! Unforgiveable!" I slam at the table. The effects are not as impressive as I would like given I am not very large nor strong.


    Not Gable''s hair! His beautiful lush hair! What sin. Okay seriously though, my little sister seems to have been getting this bad habit that many babies and toddler''s. The "I shall stick everything in my mouth" habit.


    It wasn''t always so bad. Sometimes she gnaw on a piece of roll of bread for too long or suck her thumb. Sometimes I would wake up in our shared bed to find her sucking on MY thumb. Or toe. It''s a surprise every morning. Gross baby drool and all.


    Now that is actually in my range of expectations. I know, the bar is low, but so are young kids in general. Children are crazy.


    Case example, the mochi in the tub.


    "Right! Milk doesn''t come out but it keeps biting and I wanna chew on Cap! How come she can lick and chew on Cap but I can''t? Not fair not fair not fair!"


    "....you want to what?"


    This is a lot to take in. Let''s breathe, and calmly count it off. One, my sister has been demoted to an ''it'' in the eyes of Lukas? Two, my grampa is very popular with children for some very wrong reasons? Last I checked, grampa was made of human flesh and not actually edible.


    I am stopping my brain from connecting point three. It involves too many nipples and my drooly still very dumb baby sister. Thus, I am halting my brain right there. If the issue has already been solved, which it must be if Lukas is here and not in Gable enforced punishment, then it''s good enough. I have enough to be stressed out over. I don''t need the mental image of Lilyanne in the mortal danger that is kiddy shenanigans.


    "So...did she....spill a...bucket of milk on you? Something bigger?"


    "Milky goats!!!!"


    "Alrighty then. Abbey, spin cycle him."


    "Ri-right away my young miss."


    It''s taken a while where I can just get my young maid to learn my orders to the extent that she has. Before she would get overly flustered or even cry at the miscommunication, or her perceived ignorance. No no it''s not something people learn normally. The terms I use are sometimes....a little out of this world.


    But luckily Abbigail is a gullible little foo- er I mean a very..... nope, never mind, she''s just easy. Too easy. Tell her something and now she just goes along with it. That''s her wonderful training potential. I admit I''m a little unnerved how worshipful she seems to me, a toddler of all things, but this is the exact sort of easy servant the original Rosalia Ventrella would have preferred.


    Which is odd given that I don''t recall having such a servant. I can''t even vaguely recall an employee resembling the nervous but devoted Abigail at all. Well, the employment numbers of my household were quite large, no matter which location. It''s a given I don''t recognize the majority of my servants, especially the downstairs staff.


    I did have an oddly reverent older maid, later on, a surprisingly seductive sort of ditsy beauty, but.... I committed a great wrong toward that girl.


    It would be far easier to not think about it.


    I am a villainess. I have a history. That much is unavoidable. There are things I can change from this point now on and things I can''t. I''m not vowing to be a better person or anything, it just would be nice if things were different. If some things could be avoided.


    It''s not out of the goodness of my own heart, haha ah what a concept. It''s just that, that sort of maid reminds me one of my senior co-workers.


    What a helpless woman, despite being my senior in the field. I quickly rose to and past her position in a few short years working. She too was a rather unconsciously seductive beauty, aka the creep magnet. An honest to god stereotypical blond most days. I can''t recall how many times I had to tear and chase a too handsy creep away from my senior, clients or not.


    A real 180 change from how Rosalia treated that maid.


    It couldn''t be helped is a very bad sort of excuse, but what else did we have? How many choices did that girl really have?


    "Now change the water and rinse cycle that kid once more." I command towards my little maid.


    "Ye-yes my young miss!"


    I watch as Abigail spins and turns, stirring the Lukas soup. She''s a frumpy thing, barely a teenager and still very much rooted in childhood. Unruly hair, braided and pinned in knots that could fit under a hair covering when making soap and pickles. Freckled pink face, underneath that apron dress, shoulders of even more freckles, showing a past of exposed sun and work. She''s not exactly skinny, but her body is that of a working child. Strong in the arms and thighs, completely flat in where a woman should be growing at her age.


    "Don''t forget his feet. I don''t trust his feet. Check and clean between those toes."


    "Ye-yes!"


    "Hey!!! Why does everyone say that?!"


    "Because you''ve lost more socks than you could possibly own. Now wash up if you''re to stay in this building."


    "Mmmmpfsg"


    Lukas'' head goes down in the water as a wriggling white kiddy foot pops up. It splashes as Abbey battles to get it clean. Testing out the soaps on the counter.


    When wet and clean, I can see clearly how Abbey''s face is a plain one compared to all the beauties that surround me. Not like that unfortunate maid or my devastating sexy secretary stereotype of a senior.


    This is fine. Having such a personal maid is fine. It''s safer this way.


    "My lady. This humble servant is blessed. Far too blessed."


    "That''s enough. Stand straight and let me have a look at you. Straight I say! "


    A doll, still very much a child, slowly circles the figure standing middle of the dressing space. Three sets of vanity mirrors standing to show various angles. Her curls pinned and ribboned sweetly, in contrast to the sourish pout and frown ever present on her face. She was a child, even as her legs grew longer and her stomach ached horribly with that time of the month. It was just a new and horribly unpleasant price to came with growing up.


    She had to grow up.


    The common maid got up slowly, almost so that it would be mistaken as lady like grace. Dark dirty blonde hair, oiled, plaited and pinned to show off her best assets. A supple neck and full bossom, a hint of natural freckles on that fair skin, and a graceful mole towards the back. A richly dyed splendid yellow underdress, frills and all, below a cornflower blue corset tie dress. It was techically modest, if not for the great push and swell a woman''s soft breasts. Ribbons of the same blue accented with violent bustles and trimmings. An embroidered belt fasted in decorative golden bronze tied and trailed off the ends.


    Even in new clothes, she still looked like a maid, though obviously one of a very wealthy lady.


    So long as she kept silent, kept careful, she was beautiful enough to contest with any noble''s daughter. No better, for she was not a pampered and ignorant little girl, innocent in the ways of men and women. If it weren''t for her employment, her beauty, she would have been a plain ''old maid''. A couple years past the age of an ideal marriage, but it wasn''t too late.


    It was good that she was a reasonably fast learner.


    "Congratulations. You have more than caught the eyes of the Lord Canale. You won''t be too mistreated, for his wife has gone and gotten herself locked up in senility. I hear he doesn''t have the hobby of sadism, another plus."


    "The Lord Canale is gentle with all his mistresses. His touch never rough. It is my honor to be inducted under such a person. To be married at my age, and so above my station, tis my blessing."


    "Stand straight. I will not have you bowing so much once you''re in that household."


    "Yes my lady. Forgive me my lady, it is only with you that I bend my head and knee. "


    "Hmmmf, from now on, show that only to your husband. You are not to be so easily stepped over b any mistress. It would have been easier, to pair and match a true cortigiana, But a wholesome girl I''ve raised out of my own hands, well, there''s something satisfying about that in the eyes of many, including that Canale. Don''t you agree?"


    "Yes my lady."


    "You''re a product of my household, my name. Your education, your manners, even your... experience. All the riches and favor you receive is due to my favoring hand. Your hard work, your value, was all supported by me."


    "Worry not my young lady. My master, my rod my whip shall graciously lie in your fair hands, forever yours. This servant is unworthy, with my humble beauty I shall weave your hands under this Lord husband you have granted upon me."


    There is no rod, no whip. Just a child''s doll like hand. It pulls at ties and ribbons, dropping layers of richly dyed cloth. Revealing a full-grown woman''s bare skin, curves and full sweet flesh, in a manner that would have most any man panting.


    The child lays her hand on the naked bossom, pushing against the soft firmness of the heated flesh. Right above the wildly beating heart.


    "There is no need to lie this far. The correspondence shall be made to you in many forms, discreetly. If there are any complaints, anything to make you job easier, simply communicate them to one of the agents when they make themselves known to you. Do not hesitate, not for your comfort but for efficiency. It is my time and investments that you risk."


    "Tis no lie, and all my yes, my young lady."


    "You shall please your new husband in all ways, please and grasp his old heart and feeble mind."


    "Yes my lady."


    "Steer those routes, those bridges to our tides. My dearest paternal family truly thinks they have such a stronghold? Oh hohoho they must be fumbling and point fingers left and right at this point. Steer them right and when that old man finally keels over, you shall be rewarded ever so handsomely. More than you could have ever dreamed."


    Worn hands, softened with rose water and essence, faint with scars, clasps that little one even closer into her revealed.


    "My lady, it is already more than I have ever dreamed. It has been so since fate deemed me fit to serve under your grace."


    The little girl pouted, one cheek filling with hot air as she regarded the half naked creature bowed low to her.


    So this was an adult woman''s beauty. Underneath that finery and gowns. This is what made so many men so out of their minds stupid.


    "Good. Acceptable education. It would have the old Canale reeling. Remember to steer him well, gather more pets if you wish. A little jealousy plays well in keeping the hearts of men. " she snorted.


    "My lady?" the maid sensed with unease, a sort of sadness her young lady refused to make known. For even the highest of born nobles had their burdens, their unshed tears/


    She pushed into those breasts, then pulled the chemise and tied the dress back up. Every so lovely, like a present rewrapped. Tied them high and tight, as if that could somehow hide them. Make them as unknown and they were unseen.


    "One day too....I will grow into this. As sure as I bleed....I''ll grow. Then...one day too, I''ll be sold like this." sighed the still child, unbeknownst to herself how she spoke those words out loud.


    "My young miss. That''s not true!" broke the maid, bowing further,


    "You are the noble daughter of the Ventrellas. The Rosalia Therese Ventrella. The only queen candidate to the Northern Federation. Your grace shall be married off in glory and splendor, only to live in higher shining splendor-"


    "That''s enough." motioned the girl with a hand to the maid''s mouth. "Save it for the men you''ll be using. You''ll need it. You are dismissed for now, take the time to prepare and tie off any loose ends. Your dowry payment shall not be lacking, even for a concubine. There''s a show to put on after all."


    "....Yes my lady."


    The maid crawls, tying up any loose parts of her splendid dress and ribbons. As she dashes out the parlor, she bows low to the attending butler standing silently by the doors.


    "S-sir." the maid bows, trembling slightly. From what, the world could not know.


    "Congratulations on your match." he nods solemnly. Neither cheerful like most of the world not judgemental like the very same flipside.


    If the maid bites her lips, tears threatening to fall, then in was politely not mentioned. It was hard to tell what was going through the beauty''s mind. What must be going through any maiden''s mind and heart when she was to be tied to the house and bed of a lecherous lord old enough to be her grandfather.


    Her shoes clattered against the hall as Alsonso closed the doors.


    "My mother wouldn''t approve, would she?" stepped down the little doll.


    She was about the pour her own tea but that didn''t happen. A steaming cup of the herbal beverage delicately handed to her hands on a slightly too large saucer. Imported. All the best things were imported. From the leaves to the teacup, the best of the best in lands afar.


    "Have a rest my young miss. Tis a long day, this blend is good for both children and women. Sent by your lord grandfather from the great plains of the Southlands beyond the seas."


    "Hmmf, that foolish grampa. What good are these gift baskets to me now? I can supply myself."


    "It is important to hydrate and eat properly my young miss. No matter what age." prepared the butler, pulling silver trays and plates.


    Silver to test and detect for any poison. The material gleamed, well polished, and clean.


    It was a common scene out of any tale, the butler serving as a pretty young, very young, lady partook in her tea and toasts.


    "You didn''t answer me from before Alfonso." says the girl, holding herself from chugging down her second cup.


    It was bad manners, no matter how fatigued or thirsty she felt.


    Even if you placed her in rags, you couldn''t beat the manners and lessons ingrained in her every little finger. But it wasn''t enough, just this much was far from enough.


    "My dear mother wouldn''t approve of this would she? What I''ve done. What I''m becoming." she stared down into the cup. Tea a pretty liquid pink, reflecting a small blurred vision of herself back.


    It was anything but rose-colored. A little girl already is known for her viciousness, for her weak little claws. There was only so much she could do without her sister magic, her reputation.


    "I can''t say my young miss. I believe she would understand....your father would. Approve I mean."


    "Irrelevant. Father...was a Bicchieri. " she gripped at the cup, distorting her pink tinged reflection. further.


    "''Was'' my lady, and I served him in that time. I serve him to now."


    "You still pray they''re alive? Odd for you to be so senselessly hopeful Alfonso. But I suppose it''s not a bad outward image to hold on to. It keeps Lilyanne going. How is my sister doing? What are the reports."


    "I know so. The young lady Lilyanne is recuperating well after this winter chill, her bouts less frequent. Today she was well enough to make merry with the maids on the news of...the match. Her allowance has been overspent by a quarter, as she used up quite the sugar and paints."


    "Why am I not surprised. I suppose she finds the whole thing oh so terribly romantic."


    "As many of the maids do my young miss. A great rise in station, for it is only we who know her to be a common maid. From a mere maid to a Lord''s personal cortigiana. It is admittedly, the dream of many a young and old womenfolk."


    "They dream to bed men older than their great grandfathers? Oh say no more Alfonso, I joke. Of course, I still know how to joke. Well, who am I to deny them their fantasy? They shall have their wedding, we shall have ourselves a merry show, and quietly reap the profits behind the curtains. My, it sounds like a brothel already."


    "Unsound on the last part my young miss. It will be...a fine...and very appropriately stationed wedding. Lord Canale''s fifth, and hopefully last. How much longer can he last?"


    "I hear he takes supplements to keep up with his younger playthings. So take great care then, to help provide such...supplements. To the new blushing bride."


    "Of course. Your toasts my lady." the old gray man serves, reminding the little lady to eat.


    She was almost as bad as her father when it came to working. Something he took great care to curb. Like her father, the finest of foods, tired and true, didn''t seem to interest the little lady as much as some oddly common fare seemed to.


    "Hmmpf. Fine. Green grapes again? I don''t suppose that was included in grampa''s package. Ah but the pate is delicious today. " the little lady munches on crostinis, looking back to her young age.


    If you squint you could almost imagine her to be her sister, a real child with no such worries of burdens. One that doesn''t go granting their maids as concubines to old men in political plots. One who could never comprehend such things, let alone raise and order it herself.


    "Alfonso, how is pate typically made?" she licks at her serving knife, playfully dressing a piece with a bit more honey and pickled onion. Ah, the perfect piece.


    "Foie gras, my lady, is typically made with the fattened liver of a carefully bred and raised poultry. The finest feed of dried figs, and a honeyed wine, to greatly enlarge the organ. Smaller fouls are fed twice a day while large ones thrice. They''re slaughtered traditionally around the 100th day. For the commoners, mere farm chicken or hunted beast livers are mashed and grounded in their own fats to make a paste." he explained patiently. For more patiently when they both knew that was mundane information the little girl already knew.


    "Pate is already tasty as is, it''s so easy even a spoiled useless child like I can make it." small teeth bite down, crunching, and the child spreads another piece. Occasionally she pops a grape into her mouth, a palette cleanser of sweet and sour juice.


    "Lord Canale is quite fond this dish no? Even more so than a good plate of actual foie gras. It has a much stronger gamier taste, almost unpleasantly so, greatly not as rich, but there''s something about it. Other nobles may scoff at the supposed inadequacy but in his old age, a dulled man should be free to like what he likes. No?"


    "It appears so, as the reports say, my young miss."


    "But a common pate can be found anywhere. The one I''ve made, this girl I''ve force fed like a foul to slaughter. Honey, wine, the things to make her liver swell. Will she made a fine enough dish? Is she to his tastes? She certainly looks good enough to eat? That''s what they say yes? Lord Canale likes them a bit stupid, well, sweetly simple as they say. A bit like my sister. "


    "Only time will tell my young lady. I assure you, she''s been learned in court etiquette as she has the highest brothels of the capital. Many offers have been made as they believe her above her station. Discreetly of course. "


    "I pray then, not a Bichierri affiliated brothel. I would hate them to try to claim her as one of their own when her status rises. If there''s anything you can expect from a legitimate Bichierri, it''s either horribly costly or to claim fame and credit where it''s undue."


    "Never my young lady, our lines shall never touch. I swear on your Lord Father''s arms."


    "Acceptable. See to it, that the secret guards keep her well and safe even past the threshold. She is to be allocated at least two personal guards and four maids as her ''dowery''. "


    "Yes young miss Rosalia."


    "And for my sister...continue the surveillance. There''s nothing...wrong per say about her merrymaking. She''s just a child. Yet something about it...still concerns me. Keep the secret guards'' eyes on her and continue my reports. "


    "Yes, young miss Rosalia. We shall continue to keep our eyes...on the child. "


    "Alfonso?"


    "Yes, my young miss."


    "Would father really not be surprised to see me like this? Could my parents really bear with the truth of what I''m doing? What I will continue to do worse?"


    "I know so my young miss."


    "Alfonso?"


    "You called my young miss?"


    "Huh?"


    I blink.


    The fire crackles, lighting up little stone room. A far cry from the luxurious parlor that it felt like I was just sitting in. The solid but cheap table in front of me is covered in homework and soap stains, not tea and crostinis. There''s a little maid by that fire, scrubbing a naked brat. She is not so beautiful, I did not pick her for her beauty. I did not do that yet.


    I don''t know if I still won''t.


    Alfonso leans down, a smile ever unreadable underneath his gray mustache. Looking the same as ever, even nearly a decade younger.


    "Young miss Rosalia?" he repeats again, smoothly feeling at my forehead and podding at my tired eyes.


    "Tea then. Tis time for a break of tea. Today shall be fennel, honey and lemon. Fresh in season and to refreshen your mind and body."


    "....I see...I must be tired."


    "Yes. That is surely it. You''re used to playing and your crafts, the shift in your lessons must be a burden. Have a rest my young miss. My my my is it time for your afternoon nap?"


    "I don''t need naps every day Alfonso, I''m not a baby."


    "Of course, no. Young miss Lilyanne is a baby, but you, who is exactly the same age, does not need all her naps."


    I squish my face against the table as Alfonso cleans, stacking up my papers and books back into neat organizable stacks. Ah yes, getting infantized, the great perk of being reborn. How much sleep does a 3 year old need? 10 hours? 12?


    Nothing makes you feel quite like a child as complaining about nap time.


    "I rather have tea and snack right now." my voice comes out muffled from the table. "I want to eat pate soon. On toasties."


    "Yes my lady. I''m afraid we can only make a common poultry liver mousse on such short notice. But bear in mind our hardworking little young miss, we shall have the finest live geese and beasts delivered to be made into a delicious foie gras." the old man elegantly answers back, clearing the table and kick spinning an adapted butter churner to wash the human laundry.


    "Common mousse is fine." I mumble into the table.


    My eyes are hot. Hot and irritated. Maybe I really am too tired. Curse this small body of mine.


    Before I can even do anything about it, my chair is pulled back with my butt and back suddenly resting on a cushion. A warm moist towel instantly covering my eyes.


    "Really now. For a child to require such service at such a terribly small age. I shall advise your Lord Father with the utmost respect to adjusting the assignment load on our young miss. If Lady Maria were to see, she would greatly disapprove."


    "Mother disapproves of a lot of things." I sigh softly into the towel.


    Ahhhh that feels good, like a spa treatment. Another cushion makes it''s way to my back shoulders while my hands are washed in warm water with a hint of a citrus floral scent. It''s time for snacks.


    Time for snacks and not unpleasant thoughts. There''s always time for that later. If Alfonso says it''s time for tea then that''s that. For now let''s just lean back and relax.


    "Why is Lukas being made into soup?"


    "eEEEP!"


    "AHA! I KNEW YOU STOLE HIM!"


    Nevermind.


    I groggily pull off the towel to see another brat, munching away at half a pomegranate, crouched at my window. Does no one ever use the door?


    "I didn''t steal anyone!" I rebuke, for Lukas seems to have the strangest impression. But it''s Lukas, enough said.


    "Amar! Amar it''s been really really bad and scary and I take back everything nice ever about that stinky baby. Rosa can have her back and I''ll take you ok?!"


    "Lukas you dweeb, you can''t just take people? And just what did Lilyanne do to you?"


    "Milkygoats!!!!!"


    "Um, is that why Lukas is naked? Oh hi Abbey, you look wet. Want half this pomegranate? This one is okay to eat."


    "Oh, u-um. That''s-um, okay. Th-thank you."


    "Amar! Did you know Rosa doesn''t have all her parts?! She missing parts! And I think all girls are because the weird baby sister doesn''t have any either when she jumped in the goatmilk vat and almost got turned to cheese and then she was upside down and-"


    Suddenly the room is a mess.


    I fling a wet towel at the tub, angling it to smack at the horrifying source of chatter, resulting in a satisfying slapping sound. Ah it''s almost therapeutic, especially when paired with Lukas'' yelp. It''s fine, he won''t drown in a tub that shallow.


    "Oh hi Rosa. Why are your eyes all red? Were you crying again? No? Almost crying? Your whole face gets puffy when you do that." chatters a new source of headaches.


    How wonderful, Alfonso hands me another towel to fling and smack at brat number two. Oh ooops, I think he meant it was for my tired eyes and not attacking. My mistake.


    However, Amar simply catches the moist towel to somewhat help Abbey pull the now squeaky clean Lukas out from the tub. It''s helpful in that Amar provides chatter and distraction enough for Lukas not to splash around so much, allowing my poor now drenched maid to get the boy out and dried off.


    Ah he''s really like a freshly boiled egg. From top to bottom, especially the bottom. So soft and shiny. Was it the soap? Or the goat milk? Yes, goat milk does have great effects on beauty.


    "Abbery, write down a note to research ''milkygoats'' for skincare. Perhaps a luxury ''milk bath'' service?"


    "Ye-yes! Right away young miss Rosalia!"


    "Er, after you finish drying off of course. Maybe getting some clean clothes on Lukas. Please put that on the first priority." I close my eyes again, another warm towel served over my head and I smell a child-appropriate tea being prepared. Lots of lemon and honey yes.


    "Milkygoats!!! Amar Amar Amar it was so bad and the stinky baby bites! How many times did she try to eat you?! Because I''m even more delicious than you because I''m full of yummier fats and why are you so far away now?!"


    "I don''t know?"


    "We''re going hunting together this year too right? Right?! I wanna beat you again and then we can roast the meats and not burn them this time and it''s going to be yummy and you can keep the furs this time because I don''t need them anymore because my bed is a lot better and it''s so soft and oh no! Bed! I didn''t know the bunk bed at the troops was bad till Gable showed me but we always-"


    "It''s okay. I''m fine. You should put on pants because adults don''t like talking to people when they''re naked."


    "Oooooh okay! That''s why everyone giving me funny looks huh?"


    "Hmm I guess so? You smell a bit sour. Were you almost made into goat cheese and punished lots? Because Rosa''s sister came to play at your place? Even though it wasn''t your fault? Oh, I know, she chewed on some important stuff right? Homework? "


    "Hic, yeeeeaaaah!!!!"


    Still naked, Lukas jumps out of Abbey''s attempt at towel drying to clutch at Amar, who catches him easily despite his smaller size. The mochi squishier boy sobbing in the untold pains that must be my little sister eating his homework. While Amar comforts the boy, somehow understanding Lukas speak, Abbey puts on some of the kiddy tester clothes I had pulled out earlier. Yeah, lets get that butt covered up.


    Seriously?


    I''m very worried about Lilyanne''s current development. Extremely worried. This was not a concern in the last lifetime?


    "Your refreshment young miss Rosalia."


    Alfonso slides a prepared tray in front of me, kiddy durable tea cup and all. Okay, it''s more like a mug but that''s understandable. You just don''t serve good cutlery and drinkware to small children with their clumsy butterfingers. I feel a sweat drop form as I spot the pale green grapes on my tray.


    Why does everyone think I like these things, gosh darn it.


    "Do you know why grampa took my sister over in the first place?" I ask, sipping at the tea. Ack sour... but then sweet. Yep, that wakes me right up.


    "She''s supposed to smell yummy! But it''s just stinky!" shouts out the boy, arms held up high as Abbey urges him to help dress.


    "...."


    I turn to Amar, hoping he can do that magical Lukas translation thing again. But all Amar does is blink in confusion before accepting a mug of tea, dropped down my family''s far too capable butler.


    "Oh thank you."


    "Tis good for children and digestion."


    "Is it yummy?! Do I get one too, ack hot!"


    Lukas does the very wise thing of stinking his nose in Amar''s full mug, and thus maybe burning the tip of it. He whines and fans at it, gesturing to a giggling Amar to blow on it for him.


    "Hold still?"


    By god he actually does it, grasping on Lukas clean pink cheeks to blow down his face. Children have no sense of shame. Ah to be young, cute and innocent again. Oh hohoho, I sip at my tea like the aged old lady I must be inside my soul.


    "Still hot!" complains Lukas, eyes scrunched up.


    "You can use ice now you know? Make a block and cold smoosh?"


    "Oh yeeeeeah! You''re right!"


    The greatness that is children, everyone. Further evidence that they should not be without supervision, especially Lukas. The boy wills a cold press into existence to cool down his minor burn, then turns straight to the food.


    Hey, no, bad Lukas. Down. My food.


    "You have lots. Pay up for my eaten homework." Lukas pouts, crawling up the table to eat at my snacks.


    He takes particularly well to the artichoke dip, though that could be due to the great amount of fats and cheese mixed up in there. I''ve been working my kitchens hard to get mayonnaise down right. It''s slow tedious labor but oh so delicious. Get to mixing everyone!


    "This one is yummy!" he talks with his mouth full.


    "Of course it is, it''s my recipe. Now stop eating just that. "


    "Boooo! Amar! Amar come here and try the green thingy dip!"


    But the named other child merely shakes his head, hands still holding on to the tea mug. He foot inching towards the door.


    "I have some errands I have to do." he answers softly.


    "Errands?" I ask, already giving up on the fate of sharing my food.


    "Awwww, you can do them later. Try the dippy!" exclaims Lukas.


    "It''s okay. I ate too much already."


    Lukas drops whatever he was just chewing.


    "You''re not hungry?" the boy''s tone gone flat and almost silent for Lukas standard. That throws me off, as does the sensitive topic of fattening up Amar.


    "Mmmm don''t worry. I just ate some bad pomegranates. I got too excited about them?"


    "....."


    Lukas stares straight down, eyes like clear ice and oddly still. For a moment I could call tense, Amar tilts and smiles innocently, a questioning look to his smile. All before Lukas finally goes back to normal.


    "Oh fruit! Ok! Geez, you keep liking weird ones that go bad easy so you get sick and stuff because they''re all gross. You should eat more meat because that''s usually fresh or jerky and that doesn''t get gross. Right Rosa? Meat is good! Okay, we''ll hunt something good and picky fruits and stuff for you later." Lukas decides, back on eating my food.


    "Hmmm, okay? If we can." agrees Amar, still looking cute for someone who ate too many pomegranates.


    "Where did you get those? The kitchens are out already and there''s no more in the markets?" I ask, already awake and alert.


    It was a passing curiosity, that I inquired about the current fruit market the other day. While it''s true that pomegranates tend to keep well in their shells, it''s just past the end of the season for them. Without some special price and seller, even my own kitchens can''t order more.


    "That''s what the errand is about? I gotta go if I want fix it?"


    "Did someone trade you some bad fruit?" I make to stop him. I see those little feet already hopping, ready to get out of here.


    "Hmm something like that? But it''s not bad or anything, I ate too much and now my tummy hurts."


    It''s at this point Alfonso interrupts. Both by speaking up and pulling Lukas off the table and onto an actual high chair. He


    "Drink more of the tea then. This blend is safe for all children and will be good for your pains." smiles my butler, pulling up another too tall chair and setting the snack table with even more substantial goods. Something that makes Lukas sparkle with meat shows up on the table.


    "Oh. Okay?" Amar looks down to his cup, downing the cooled contents.


    Like a dumb child, he allows Alfonso to lift and carry him over, plopping him on the chair to destroy more of my good snack table.


    "Something easy on the stomach, for the tired children. Abigail, the stews."


    "Ye-yes! Right away sir!"


    At the table, Lukas keeps trying to stuff an artichoke scoop of dip at Amar, who holds his nose and inches away at the stinkier dish. The smaller boy honestly now looking a little pale and sick.


    "Your stomache really hurts?" I ask again, "Do you feel like throwing up?"


    "A little?" nods the boy, " but it''s fine. This much is fine"


    Beaten, Lukas can on munch on it himself as a soft and light stew is served. Probably made of lentils again and.....Hey wait, that''s not one of my recipes? Is that butter or...I don''t know? Huh, why does it get lemon? Oh, oh it''s good? Who is responsible for this? Hey hey, Amar don''t look away so fast, now I know it was you. Hey, do you really get ''stolen'' by my staff that much?


    Snack time has turned into a full meal. Homework had been tidied away. There''s is too much to be done still but let''s not think about it right now. It''s time for tea.

 105 Story time

    They say that once, a long time ago, a person could be sentenced to death for hunting. The forest lands were claimed ruthlessly by people climing over each other into power. Even if it was to save their very own lives.


    They say, there were ruthless landlords, acting on behalf of nobles who so claimed more land than they had any right to. More than they had the power to care for. Royal after self proclaimed royal, minor countries and their scrambling forced rulers fighting each other. Yet that was not enough death. Not enough casualties.


    The common man, who steps past the very edge of the woods, to slay a beast, was a criminal. They could only wait for the monsters to cross that edge, venturing into human villages, to their fields and homes.


    By then it was often too late, the loose beast right at your window, prowling over the half eaten bodies of-


    "Scawy! Dats scwawy!" clamored Lilyanne, clutching her pillow with her entire body.


    In the soft glow on my one candlelight colored moss jar, she squirms and clamors about on the bed. Her bare squishy legs gripping the pillow tight. Under the covers, the only shadows only bounce between our movements. I play with it, setting the silly ominous mood as best as a 3 year old can.


    I''m no good at scary stories myself, despite how many I know, not through my own choice. But it''s actually fun telling it or getting people to fearfully react. Quite amusing! Which honestly may have been why I got teased so bad all those times by...


    ...Besides this isn''t really scary, can''t go traumatizing the toddler here. I''m not so mean to scare people for no reason!


    "Yes, yes it is very scary Lily. That''s why some nobles are stupid. Very bad stupid people who say ''nooo this forest is mine, you can''t go in to kill monsters or take my stuff''. They call it ''poaching'', or stealing, and that''s bad yes, but that''s a different story. Then spring comes, monsters come out, people get eaten and die. Everyone gets sadder and poorer and die some more. The end."


    I am so good at storytime. A great choice for bed time right?


    "Waaaah, Lily no likely!"


    "Nobody likes that right? That''s why some bad people were thrown away, the rules changed lots and we have the hunts each year. They''re much safer in a big group of people."


    "Grwampapa?"


    "....yeah sure, grampa had something to do with that."


    "Yaaaaaaaaaay! Smashy! Smash smach speeechy!"


    "More importantly, some nobles are mean, greedy and very stupid. You must not believe in every person, especially nobles who don''t allow hunts or kill innocent people for stupid excuses."


    "Meanies!"


    "Mean and stupid nobles yes. Very bad. "


    It''s not too long ago that grampa returned my baby sister, then ran off excitedly for the hunt. Such a thing has little to do with us. Sure it sounds fun with how excited people tend to get, entertainment is lacking after all. But we''re just little kids, it really has nothing to do with us. Lilyanne, however, is babbling louder than ever and getting so much more...physically rough.


    Let''s not think too hard where she''s learning all these bad habits from. In fact, I don''t even know who to blame. Grampa or Lukas? Both of them? Let''s go with both.


    With my foreseeable grounding, with constant monitoring by the security guards, Lilyanne has had every opportunity to stick to me. Like melted cheese or something. My my my...what a strong grip you have little sister?


    Even though it''s this late at night, Lilyanne is just bursting with too much energy. It''s like she''s trying to make up for a playtime deficiency with me or something. That''s why I was giving her a nice moral little bedtime story. Something to tire her out, maybe if I''m lucky, imprint some life long lessons into that drooly little head of hers.


    A crashing comes from the corridor right outside, where the bedroom maids to the nursery should be standing, waiting. I hide away out only light, shrouding the nursery back into darkness. It sounds like a scuffle outside with too many apologies, perhaps a shriek of surprise from maid B.


    Yes, I''m still calling them by letters. They''re on rotation anyway, not like I''ll remember them when they don''t stay too long. They''re just young ladies in waiting from minor titled households that really have nothing to do with me. How dull.


    Though I can say at least one young maid has formally left our services to return home. I sent her off with a bit of the Ventrella house soap, a bit of marketing to spread the word of my fine product. Cleans children far more gently than any noble luxury soap, soft and clean.


    Meanwhile, we now received the regular presence of D and E. Gossip and all.


    Of course, there are plenty more servents on this floor to see our every need, supposedly. Haha, ironic given my memories. However, these girls are supposedly our ''personal'' maids though to me that only real use is the baby cleaning brigade.


    Cleaning spills, baths, and feeding Lilyanne, making sure the precious girl is safe and accounted for when she''s not off with a family member.


    While I know we didn''t exactly keep quiet, whoever is on night shift out shouldn''t be making such a ruckus out there. A-E knows just how much I like my privacy.


    They know it very well. As do any unlettered maids in service. Once famous for my rolling escapes, I am now known for something much more terrifying.


    Pranks.


    Just modest things that a little toddler like me can pull off. Some sitcom comedy material, all good fun. Little warnings if they try to block my way. I''m a very busy little girl you know?


    So what if someone slipped their way down some stairs or out a window? Or caught a fungal infection and had to retire early? It''s not like I schemed anything serious. It''s nothing big or as cruel as what happened to me and the blasted cursed doll kitti!


    Well, if I''m ever really stuck or run low on ideas I guess I could always use the kiddy henchmen.....okay maybe just one of them. I have the feeling Amar is a real house fire in that department.


    Ahhhh haha I''m funny. At least I am in my own head. How depressing.


    The door opens abruptly, lantern lights spilling in from the hallways. With none of the grace and respect, I''ve so fearfully instilled into the bedroom maids. They may not be great at their jobs but at least they knew better than to bother me so. What if we were actually sleeping huh?


    "What is all this- this foul wretched speak when good children should be fast asleep.!"


    In stomps a hefty older maid, shawls covering over treated white night clothes, looking like she was ready for bed herself. Ms. Gerta shines the flickering lantern light in the manner how modern police officers point their flashlight, up high and blinding.


    "Poopies!" pouts Lily.


    "Why I-" Ms. Gerta shakes, looking scandalized beyond belief.


    Speechless, her double chin drops and two cowering young maids from the doorway let out little gasps. One of them giggles.


    It''s a toddler saying poop. I really don''t see the concern. Sure I blame some bad boyish influences but meh, get back to me when she''s flinging it at people or something. Ha, now that would be something.


    "Why I never! Such language! Young miss Rosalia, how could you spew such filth? Such horror?" she gasps.


    ".....I''m Rosalia." I pull the cover off my head.


    "I''m Lilwi!" my sister exclaims with both of hers up in the air


    "She said it." I point.


    "Poopies!" she demonstrates, jumping up and down, quite pleased at the spotlight and audience.


    The beautiful protagonist everyone, a round of applause please.


    I''m sure maids and guards outside the door are shaking out of laughter and cooing cuteness at this point. My sister and I make quite the adorable comedy duo. With poor old Gerta clutching at her shawl in shock, practically dropping the lantern.


    I''ve been doing such a good job of avoiding her this year. Before the secret guards, this senior maid was my biggest obstacle in doing, well anything. I know that I complain about mother''s groundings, the feeling of being trapped as a toddler with nothing to do while bored out of my mine. But those are punishments.


    Ms. Gerta seems to expect me to stay so well behaved every single normal day. Haha, maybe if I were a real toddler.


    I suppose she''s acting as an overseeing nanny? The young chamber maids are her hands and feet as she sees to everything in the quarter. Ordering Lilyanne''s meals, her daily activities, how clean and organized everything is supposed to stay. Yes, she''s doing a good job, I can''t find any complaint. The halls are tidy, Lily is always clean and well brushed, and the nursery is always in order.


    She''s doing a good job as she always has...keeping order. I didn''t have any particularly negative impression of her services in my last life. In fact it was even rather favorable in the time she remained in our serives. She would scold a young Rosalia as necessary but didn''t ignore me like the others. Disciplined the insolent maids that cause trouble or ''forget'' my meals. The nursery I stayed at in my childhood, all alone, was always clean and tidy. Nothing ever out of place if I didn''t mess it up, didn''t move.


    So something feels quite off to me now in this lifetime. Some things are just not adding up.


    "These are not the sort of filth befitting of a lady! Young miss Rosalia,how could you teach your innocent baby sister such indecency. Tis awful speak you are not to repeat!"


    "...The word poop? She does that on her own."


    "Poopies!"


    "Maybe Lilyanne has to go....Lily do you need to take a trip to the little girl''s room? Is that why you can''t sleep? "


    My sister thinks about it, pushing at her tummy and humming. She rolls from one side to the other, with a concentrated face before opening her eyes to beam at, me.


    "Nooooo. Lilwi pushie and noooooo."


    She would be so cute if she didn''t just let out a little toot from her ''pushie'' mid roll. Once again the beautiful angelic heroine, toddler edition! I wave the light gas away from me, urg this is another lesson to teach. Facing away from people when you do that.


    "That''s enough of such nonsense! Such foulness, the awful things you get your sister to copy. "


    It''s with the same pillow I use to wave the air that I stop the approaching hand making to pick me up off the bed. Wacking away the plump aged hands of the head maid with surprising force. She''s so loud in her movements that I could feel it even distracted.


    Forced back and honestly more than a little shocked, Ms. Gerta can only use her words. Oh say, like a civilized person? Tsk tsk, where did the strict but well mannered nanny maid from my memories go?


    "To be whispering ills and offensive words at nobles. It''s undone, it''s unheard of! I suspected another one of your ''storytimes'' but to think I would find such a thing! And you two out there, don''t ye be believing you''re not to be held responsible for allowing such a thing to pass. It''s unacceptable!"


    Lilyanne plops to her butt, looking confusedly between a practically yelling Ms. Gerda and the cowering chamber maids right outside. At the scolding tone, my sister takes to clutching at a pillow again half hiding behind my unimpressed little form.


    Ah so that''s what it was about, my storytime. They''re quite popular in this world without any real fast entertainment you know? Sure there are books but those things are expensive and time-consuming.


    But it appears that the part taken at most offense is how I spoke of this land''s ruling classes. Our purge worthy nobles, dethroned little ''royals''.


    "They''re not ills Ms. Gerta, our grampapa told us these stories. He told us many great stories, of when he was young. " and actively getting rid of all the litter that trashed the land.


    I stare up at her with innocent eyes, leeching off the mood Lilyanne was emitting behind me. When I reach back to take her hand, it looks like the mutual comfort of two little angels.


    No one is allowed to laugh or dismiss that proclamation, I''m angelically cute even if I have this soul and personality. Cute is cute! The whole world, or at least this room and those peeking from the corridor can see that. Yes, that includes any secret guards that may or may not be around.


    Hey, my senses are getting better right? When will I be able to tell where they are or if they''re even here?


    "Everybody knows the stories of how our hunts began. Even little kids. I didn''t teach anyone anything? Nor is it bad...are the hunts bad?" I drawl off, purposefully making myself look and sound more my age.


    It''s not like I can speak comfortably to just anyone. Even my ''dumbing down'' is still far too much for the average toddler. It''s so troublesome to have to act so much slower and ignorant than I really am so much of the time. Yet it''s absolutely necessary around the in waiting maids, these minor nobles that can easily report their findings back home by a simple messenger bird. That''s why I find staying silent, maybe terrorizing them away with pranks, is so much easier.


    "We were repeating grampapa''s stories he told. Are they bad?" I repeat, tearing up.


    "Rosa?" hiccups Lily, already dripping tears. She''s a very emotional mirror, reflecting off others. If I cry she cries, just maybe with 10x the force, it''s just that simple.


    I''d fear I''m teaching her a bad lesson here, the opposite of what I''ve been trying to do with storytime and just say my entire life. That is if this wasn''t already Lilyanne''s signature move. Crocodile tears will not solve your problems, but they will get you out of many many things. Free pass!


    The ear pulling or whatever physical alternation that was previously approaching is null. Ms. Gerda may be a strict sort of person but she''s can''t act out after those clear points I made.


    More than that...she can''t act out at all.


    Ms. Gerda has never hit me. Correction, she''s never touched the original Rosalia, outside of an ear tugging or such. She never hit me nor ignored me. A trusted figure that''s good at her job.


    Then why the hell did those insolent maids under her act the way they did?


    When the original Rosalia, still just a child, not yet even touched by the baptism struggled and fell all on her own. When she was wandered too far out her perfect tidy room and was punished for it? Why?


    Stairs.


    Window.


    Sickness.


    Why was all that even allowed to happen in the first place? Why weren''t those maids ever appropriately punished? Why was almost everything always swept quietly under the rug until I got old enough to drag them all back out of their hidings?


    That''s right...that is part of the reason why the original had such a fearsome reputation. The cruel young miss Rosalia Ventrella. Hunting down innocent former employees, their only sin was catching her unreasonable eye. So people whispered, as horrified as they were morbidly amused. Especially the ones who showed up to those public stakes!


    Entertainment really is lacking in this world. It''s not like I put anyone to death in front of a crowd. Ahem, I mean Rosalia of course. The girl that all this happened to me. Not me.


    All that didn''t happen to me.


    It''s different.


    I''m not Rosalia.


    I''m not her. I was hit because they cared. Even if they didn''t care about each other, they cared about me. Everything was for my own good. They only hit me because they-


    "Rosa? *hic* Rosa no, Roso no cry! Lilwi sorwi, sorwi I be good. *hic hweee* We be good an go to sleepie and no more stories? *hic hic* Rosa don''t cry. We be good, pwease. *hic bwee* Pwease don''t make Rosa cry! *hic*"


    I slowly turn to the toddler half peeking out from behind me, nose already dripping messily. This girl cries so ugly, even as a child. When she really cries, it''s a mess. It''s a wonder how she could attract so many men with such an ugly scrunched up face, such an ugly cry.


    How did she get so much love with that ugly face?


    "There there now dearies, oh by the lords and ladies. No need to get your tears all out in such a mess. Oh your faces." sighs the old maid.


    As if her hand had not just reached out to grab me just a moment ago, if I didn''t hit it away. Something I felt my body react to even more I made a conscious decision.


    Ms. Gerda never hit me.


    Not like those maids.


    Not like my own parents. My real ones, the ones that stay in my memories even though I''m not her anymore. She never physically hurt me.


    She never cared either, maybe worse.


    "As long as you know your wrongs! Nobles, such as yourself my little misses, are not to be spoken of as such. You''re meant for different things than commoners, blessed with a power in life. You''re only so small now, you will learn as you are ladies. Never speak of such horrid things." she scolds.


    "Horrible?"


    Pillow up and defensively shielding in front of me, to hold off on any unwanted touch. I turn back, finally feeling how much wetness on my own cheeks.


    Huh? Wasn''t I just crocodile crying, a little too effective huh?


    "Was what my grampa did horrible? The stories say that he saved a lot of people."


    "That''s-"


    "The stories say that he beat up a lot of bbbaaaad people in power. Because their power was wrong, even if they had to for a loooong time. The stories say that he chased some of them through the forests in the spring. That the first real hunt....wasn''t for beasts. But aaaaalllll these criminals rounded up, set loose into the worst of the woods."


    "Young Miss, you must be tired this late-"


    "A contest. It was a great biiiiiig trial. If they could survive the forests, their ''land'', then it was safe and all those common people were just breaking laws. He took lots and lots of ''noble'' people and told them to go. Then it turned into the first hunt! How fun!"


    My voice sounds odd, and it''s not just the forcibly childish tone to it.


    Behind me, Lilyanne still hiccuped, struggling to hold in her cries as I spoke. My my my how considerate for my little crybaby of a sister. Her confusion nothing compared to the paling face of the frozen maid in front of me. Even though she''s standing, it feels as if I''m the taller one here, looking down.


    "Those lots and lots of people in their pretty clothes and big bellies became not so lots. Lots and lots of people were hunted, they found out beasts really were bad. Since they had so much fun, they let the hunts go on and everyone could play too! Rich or poor. So we never have to have a people hunt ever again. There was a party too, one that the nobles often held, using money and property from all the dead bad nobles. It went back to all the families of dead villagers and everything got better. This is just one in many stories that everyone knows, why did you call it bad?"


    Fake tears are just that, I''ve already willed myself to stop producing anymore. In fact I feel quite calm, what a strange hiccup I seem to have had earlier. Still, it must be quite the horrid appearance I have on.


    I must be very messy.


    After all, why else is Ms. Gerda, proper old traditional Ms. Gerda, looking at me like that? Like how people looked at an older Rosalia when they were summoned at the stakes, at the gallows. Like a fearful ghost, chased after for a promise, a curse of revenge no matter how many years passed. How ridiculous.


    I''m only a cute little toddler you know?


    "Everyone can hunt now. Just like anyone can get hunted and die."


    The shadows of the lantern dance as it drops and clatters on the floor, rolling towards my bed. Closer and closer under me.


    "Oh, you have to know this story too, Hey hey, Ms. Gerda? You''re an adult from that time, do you remember the first hunt? The one in the stories. Can you tell us a story? Hey Ms. Gerda, were you there too?"


    A great thus sounds out as more than just the lantern hits the floor.


    How anti-climatic. She fainted. Well, she is old. If my little taunts really were the truth, it just must have been too much for her. If not, then perhaps I just angered her to the point of passing out. That can''t be good for a senior''s blood pressure. She didn''t get an aneurysm or stroke right?


    I immediately let out a fake cry of shock, ordering the frozen maids and guards outside to see to the old woman on the ground. Get her back to her quarters and into some bed rest immediately. The show is over, time to do your jobs.


    "*hic*Rosa?" tugs my sister, looking still quite emotionally distraught despite her tiredness. Red face, as if holding in her breath, an expression like one before a violent sneeze. The signs all checking off in my head.


    Oh no, oh no no no.


    "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!"


    Ah, there''s the Lilyanne I know with the waterworks. What healthy lungs she still has. I''m honestly surprised she managed to hold it in this long.


    "There there Lily." I try to no avail.


    "Wah wah scawrrrries!!!! Wwwwaaaaaaaah."


    "Yes yes Lily, the world is full of scarries. But that old man is the biggest scary so just hide behind him if anything happens."


    "Wwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! *hic hic*"


    "Do you want mama? Nothing scary can hurt you with grampa and mama. Come on girl. Come on Lily, take my hand and let''s go to mama''s bed tonight. Hmmm? Won''t that make everything better!" I bait.


    While still crying her little head off, Lilyanne grips tight, making me lead completely. I don''t think she can even see like that through swelling eyes and all those tears.


    Right, the Lilyanne siren coming through. It''s honestly not all that late for most of the adults but sorry for disturbing the peace. Full out sobbing Lilyanne here, clear the way. When she gets like this only her mother can fix this.


    I just hope I won''t be blamed for making her cry again. Really she does all this on her own!


    "Wwwwwwwwwaaahhhhh!!! Waaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!"


    Today''s storytime was an absolute failure. Oh well, you can''t please them all the time.


    --------------


    ------


    ---


    ---------------------------


    Bonus: Status Reports w/ Frederick


    ---------------------------


    "My, how precious. It appears that your children will be sleeping with the Lady of house tonight. They''re already well on their way to her quarters." reported Alfonso, reading off the note from a mysterious almost magical source.


    His master, Lord Frederick looked up with a raised eyebrow, snapping a long leather strap on the glove securely. The fit of it tight but not numbing. It was something his wife was oddly fond of but then again, Maria was oddly fond of a lot of things. From his gloves to his ungelled hair, not to mention the ears.


    Ahem, it was always nice to not be found displeasing to one''s partner so Frederick didn''t ponder about it excessively.


    "Really now? The both of them?" he asked, thinking of what brought this on.


    It''s not like he disliked the notion once in awhile. It was a surprisingly pleasant novelty that never wore off, the three of his girls all tucked up into one space. Domesticity he never quite knew what to make of. Only that he was blessed beyond anything he has ever thought possible.


    While his youngest was excessively fond of snuggling up in the comforts of her mother''s bosom, in their shared bed whenever possible, Rosalia was much more reserved about it. That is if she were awake to notice to change in where she fell asleep and where she ended up. Still so young and yet his eldest already found it, dare he say, embarrassing.


    Some mornings, where his Rosalia awoke in their bed, on the days he could stay to observe, she would make a face of grimace and tears. The great sudden shift of sleepy comfort versus the shock was quite humorous. He fears this may be why his beloved wife finds such joy in teasing him through their relationship.


    Yes his eldest would jump up the bed, losing all sense of that wonderful comfort of a previously kittenish slumber. All before healthily running off to start her morning exercises and bath with a mighty roar of "gross gross gross!".


    So he found it a tad odd, why she would be willing on this particular night. But that''s what the guards and Alfonso were for. To clarify those concerns with their constant surveillance. Ah how he could breathe much easier with them there.


    Perhaps it might have been excessive in the eyes of others, to assign shadow guards, secret spies, and trained assassins to do the simple job of watching a little girl. But that was his little girl.


    "It appears that it was ''storytime'', the contents and events being much too frightening."


    "Ah. Chip does have a slight tendency to bully Cheese. Was that my Lily sobbing like a mad lark down the echoes then? I thought it sounded like one of her tantrums."


    As a parent, it was not only his duty to learn the differences of his daughter''s cries but her moods. A skill that only came easier with the prerequisite course of being a husband, well-practiced in being forced to decipher his wife. Unfortunately, it wasn''t only him but essentially the whole staff that was learning the differences in Lilyanne''s crying. She is after all their young miss.


    "Yes. Though, a head maid fainted from...'' storytime'', as told by our young miss Rosalia."


    "Their quarters then....Gerta. Hmmm, I was wondering what Chip had in store for her. Didn''t think she would act at this time."


    "Miss. Gerta seemed to have interrupted their bedtime...Twas but a story, of the origin of the hunts with the honorable Lord Commander in his youth. "


    "Ah yes, I always did adore that one. "


    A metal grate with a sole small stained glass window, thicker than a safe, creaked. Frederick moved leisurely as it unlocked. On one hand, he held a silver bowl of red. Bits of fresh raw meat, still on the bone. In the other, a long black metal pair of tongs poked, scooping up a bit of the meat, the feed.


    It still had skin and nails.


    "Ladki, you contemptuous and glorious creature, are you still planning on sleeping in this year as well? Your complexion is looking worse than last. Come now. A bit to tide you over."


    The redhead nudged, tongs sticking the still bleeding cuts of fingers into the hole.


    The tongs twists shook and rattled. An angry hissing banged about, echoing inside the much deeper dark space.


    "That''s a good girl. Feeling peckish finally? You''re getting quite lazy in years." he fed it another, and another until finally, all rattling stopped. Nothing but silence. As if the thing inside had gone back to sleep.


    Fangs and scales sprang out. Latching from the tongs straight into the gloved hand that handled it. Wrapping and twisting as it nipped, up and up further.


    "Well good morning, or shall I say night, to you too Ladki."


    The snake hissed, it''s hood up, crawling up from the spiral on the arm up past the protection of the gloves, up and over a shoulder with no real protection. It''s head making it''s way to dangle overexposed collar bones as its tail wrapped its self like an old friend you loved to hate. A little too tight at the throat.


    "I see you are showing off but I still stand by my earlier statement. Your scales are getting dull" he petted at it, examining the hood.


    The creature hissed, opening its mouth vertically wide, impossibly tall and wide. It opened large enough to fit a man''s head and then some. Fangs elongating, rows of razors spiraling towards the back.


    A clear drop of liquid dripped, burning a steaming hole through whatever happened to be unfortunate enough to be its landing point.


    "Bad. Bad Ladski. To think I brought you treats. "


    Despite his burning clothes and floor, Frederick merely rolled his eyes. Moving with the beastly reptile as if it were a bird on his shoulder and a snap as Alfonso covered the burning small hole with a flutter of white cloth. Upon contact, the cloth melted into the wood, and then, it was like nothing ever happened there.


    "Don''t think it''s just this bowl." petted Frederick as he poured the rest of it down the monstrous mouth.


    It chomped down, swallowing like it knew how to savor. To enjoy.


    "I have a special treat for you this year."


    The snake hissed softer this time, it''s black forked tongue flickering back and forth. Frederick chuckled, leaning back over the desk and reaching towards an almost decorative bowl of fruit. Something that did not interest the carnivorous reptile in the slightest.


    "Now now, don''t be hasty. You''ll like him, I promise. "


    With an elegantly sharp letter opener, the young Lord spilled even more red. Tiny dark rubies spilled forth from the broken peel, bathed in it''s own bloody juices.


    He held the fruit up to the creature, allowing all it''s senses to focus. Its eyes glowed as they dilated. As if the scaled beast could understand him in all his silence.


    "I told you. Now, do as you''d like....and try not to kill too much more than you can finish." he whispered, eyes glinting into his gentlemanly smile.


    With practice grace, Frederick set his arm down, and let the thing slither off and away, into a corner and vanished with way serpents do. He watched it go, tossing the beautifully rotting fruit into the golden fire along with the ruined glove. His butler ready by his side in the clean up as it twisted and burnt.


    "Now then, it''s time to head to bed. My girls are waiting. "


    --------------

 106 It was a rainy day

    It was raining.


    The clouds have gathered, the heavens pouring down it''s blessing. The beasts hiding in their holes, their dens, scents washed out.


    What a good day to hunt.


    "Can we really fish them out like this?!" whined a pale boy. His little hood and rain cloak a bright fluorescent color, something to glowed easily for people to spot at a glance. No precaution was spared, for Gable''s own state of mind.


    "On this day, early on, yes we can. They''ll be restless and gathered at this point." he speaks as he moves, a large floating lantern lighting up their path.


    The little ones glowed, jars of fluorescent light and moss dangling in the air by their heads. A respective coloring of blurred blue clouds and sparkling summer green. It was Gable''s magic that made it float, but Lukas''s memory that made it glow.


    That''s why it took many blue jars to match the light of one green. Lukas'' practice jars, made again and again till he could get it right for someone else''s. Then never again for his own.


    They were working on it. The boy was still young. They could work on it.


    "But all the stupid stinky cheese made from the weird baby can''t be used! Nothing can smell nada!"


    "The lures can be focuses and used for another day. Without the rain. But you must know Lukas, that there are many ways of attack. Many ways to lose as there are to win."


    "Grrr, if you say so Gable. Is that why Cap is away? Attacking?! Like this?"


    "Yes, he''s leading some men into an active cave with them. The rain won''t bother them down there, nor the scent but they do weaken certain beasts. It''s a good time to strike first."


    "Yeah yeah, when do I get down there and not the boring stuff out here?!"


    "Perhaps, when the first few waves are finished. After the rain stops. Besides, I think you''ve bagged plenty of kills today. The both of you."


    "Boooooring. They''re all stuff we''ve seen before. Right, Amar?!"


    The smaller boy turns away from the darkness afar, taking a second too long to nod along to his friend.


    "Is everything alright Amar? A beast in the shadows?" hummed Gable, as if all-knowing in the silence. A teacher waiting for the students to figure it out on their own.


    "What?! I thought this area was clear? Where where! Let''s go get it! Can you smell it? In this rain? Cool!"


    When Lukas bounces off, he''s stopped by Amar''s smaller frame, far too still and silent. Questioning, he calls out his friend''s name again.


    "Are you cold Amar? You''re shakey. I think we''re done now Gable, let''s go back and get soup."


    "Yes, I''ve been saying that. Now come along, it''s nothing you two can hunt. Nor should you."


    "Can we have bacon sandwiches today? I like those best. Can we dip them in your cheesy soup. I can''t eat your cheese soup with the stupid baby around because then she ruins it all and puts her head in and that''s duuuumb. Even dumber than me and I do a lot of dumb stuff."


    "Yes Lukas, we can have those sandwiches. Be nice, for children younger than you often are that way. Amar, don''t fall behind too much now."


    "Amar and Rosa aren''t and they''re both littlier than me."


    "I mean most, there are always exceptions. To anything. Many things in this world, no matter what you believe the truth, universal, exceptions exist waiting to be discovered if they''re not already."


    "Ooooooh! Okay!"


    Though they walk, the smallest darkest child keeps stalling. Looking back to the void.


    The rain pours and it''s near impossible to sense a thing. But he can''t stop shivering.


    "Wrong...it''s the wrong sound." he shakes, forcing himself to move forward.


    "Hurry up!" shouts back Lukas, running around in circles, puddles splashing where he steps. It''s the luxury of a child, this simple fun. A magic he hopes he''ll always keep, even in the dark. The little lights glowing at various strengths, creating the appearance of stars and wisps.


    "Okay! I''m coming!"


    Amar takes one last look into the dark. Eyes wide, too full of hope that should be dead. Dead and gone. It''s with a broken shudder, a prayer maybe, that he dares to whisper.


    "Mama?"


    Only the pounding of the rain answers back.


    It''s impossible.


    Exceptions to this don''t exist, no matter what Gable says. He knows this.


    He turns and runs. Follows after the living. After the little sparks that Lukas lets off like the splashes of puddles and the great big glow of Gable''s magical lantern, strong and established. With power and wisdom beyond all their years.


    The sound is wrong. Even if the slithering, clangs, and ringing are undeniable, they''re not her.


    His mama isn''t here. He knows better than to chase after the dead.


    "Come along now."


    Gable speaks, shields them from the storm in a way they can''t explain.


    The gate appears, shimmering into existence, and so does his home. Warmth.


    The children clamor in noisily on a rainy day. All is right for a moment more.


    More than they ever had.


    -----------------------------


    ----------------------


    -------------


    I feel like a stupid cat.


    In the world there are many possible toys and amusements. What haven''t I''ve seen in the modern world with the power of the internet? Amusement parks, VR, hell even a simple smart phone with apps. Yet here I am, so easily amused by father''s trash.


    But just look at the size of this snakeskin, it''s practically whole! Whoooo, the details of the scales still imprinted on the thin layer. My there''s even a dark tinge of color and pattern on it when snake skins tend to be very pale. What an amazing find.


    I had found it in the corner by my unfortunate study spot for the day. The play desk shoved up against the walls to keep me undistracted and well within view by my father. There it was, just in the corner. Like a lost artifact in one of my father''s cabinets of curiosities, which he not so surprisingly had a lot of.


    Sure there are a lot much more interesting things in his collections, just none lying on the floor for a toddler to grasp.


    Oh what a specimen, what a terrifying beauty the creature wore its skin must have been. Ooooh just look at it nearly perfect condition. This is something you can''t just find on any nature hike.


    I just ...want...a closer look...without being teased to death. Is that too much to ask?


    Apparently so, for my father so cruelly holds it up high. Teasingly tossing on end out and about as if it were a shiny ribbon or even, a cat''s toy.


    I just want a little look, you dropped it in the first place. Stop making me jump for it! Oh to the left. Arg, almost had it!


    Still, father sadistically waves the poor skin, ruining the specimen further with wrinkles. Arg, it''s not a ribbon, why does he keep making me hop after it? Someone get this guy a real pet!


    "This is actually quite fun. I can see why people produce children." remarks father, making me go in small circles for it.


    Who does he think I am? Lilyanne?! Oh hell no.


    When I turn to plop myself away, back to facing the wall, the sadist that is my father tries to tempt me again by dangling the stupid snake molt.


    "Hmmpf!" I turn away with my booklet, bent on ignoring him.


    "Chip?"


    "Hmmpf!"


    "I''ll let you sit on lap and observe."


    ".....!"


    "Now this is quite familiar, though it''s much more pleasant on you than your mother." he dangles the not a cat toy.


    That is not a good thing. You shouldn''t be getting your wife pouting mad in the first place. Then you gotta spend the next few hours or even days coaxing her. Even I know that much. What kind of awful schoolyard flirting is that?


    It''s not cute at all, but hey what do I know? I''ve been single and unattached my whole life, or well lives, all of them. A formal and empty engagement does not count. I kinda died young...in all of them.


    Wow, am I depressing this morning! Is it because it''s all gloomy and raining outside?


    Anyways back to work, the sooner I get this latest batch of worksheets done, the sooner I can go back to doing my own thing. Like planning a wedding!


    Ah, it''s so wonderful that the prideful matters of a certain silly accountant and my kitchen maid has been settled. Nothing some bare naked honesty and wine-fueled night locked in a storage room can''t fix for a couple.Oh hohoho~


    Sometimes mother does have good ideas! But I still don''t trust her alone with the tailors so I really do have to hurry up and get to the parlor.


    Or I would if father wasn''t still trying to get mt attention by dangling a shed snakeskin at me, tickling my cheek. Hey, this is not how you deal with women? Or anyone in general? I was ignoring you. This stuff is generally gross to girls you know?


    Seriously how the hell did a weirdo like you get mother to marry you?


    "....I didn''t." he deadpans, interrupting my thoughts. Ah, this habit again.


    "....don''t actually answer that father. I really don''t want to know. "


    "Glad we agree then my dear Chip, for I am not quite prepared for that conversation nor any of such matters. "


    "It''s very improper a subject yes.


    "Quite."


    He drops the twirling molt right on top of my head, temporarily blocking my vision. Homework will have to wait as I struggle to untangle myself from the specimen. Oh my lord it''s quite sturdy despite appearances. What a curiosity, it''s still moist and malleable! What a strange thing, usually that''s quite impossible unless it''s fresh.


    Yes this is much more interesting than any annoying thoughts on such subjects....say my own marriage. You know, the thing that kinda determined Rosalia''s life.


    "Can I have this father? It''s not part of a collection of anything is it?" I press, straightening out the skin as flat as possible.


    Father gives a mod as he regards me with the look a doctor would give a mutated species of bacteria. Like I''m a mild and yet intriguing surprise to research.


    Wow, I am depressing today.


    Must be because everyone ever is out ''hunting'', despite the weather, and having wonderful adventures while I''m trapped in here. Taking lessons. Again. Guarded as much as I am waited on, hand and foot. The price of this lifestyle, of being a little miss.


    Well, that''s fine. I''m a noble lady with soft skin and fine manners. I didn''t want to go romp around in the wild anyways.


    Or go checking out the hunts and hauls of the local monsters that don''t exist in a nonmagical world. I already died, got reborn into another world with no useful magic, and back....to studying.


    I don''t even get to see how many teeth and claws the wedding roast might have had originally. It''s not like I could hunt anything good with my skills anyways. I bet the brats are out there being absolute monsters and smacking down meat and loot. Doing some stupid maybe cool stuff without me.


    I am not depressed about that at all.


    "Is that what you''re on about since this morning? Don''t worry my dear, I''ll be sure to allow you a view of a safe specimen or so when they pass through." father cruelly teases.


    How comforting....I bet he''s going to turn that into homework somehow too. I''m not sure if he''s even working back there or just finding more ways to mess with me. Maybe just doing nerd things. The worksheets and readings seem never-ending today. They''re almost enough to distract me from the fact that I''m cooped indoors and checking out anything cool or doing something more productive.


    Like finalizing a wedding menu!


    I stick the mostly flattened snakeskin into my baggie. This is the part where I resume my work like a good diligent student. Ready to checkmark my schedule down accordingly.


    But I''m not.


    Ow ow ow, this is not toddler material. What kind of shit is this nerd making me read and recite? Well....for the most part, let''s just think of this as revision...very intense revision. I''m no genius, no photographic memory, or anything extra up in here.


    Which should be absolutely illegal given my other world status. Hey um, cheats, where are you? Anything? Anything at all? Oh why bother.


    I''m already learning so much...manually... under father''s strict hand.....and whatever the original Rosalia may have already learned before is getting revised, slowly. Bit by bit. Book by book.


    I really miss the internet. So damn much. I was always a good student but who reads over and memorizes things in full anymore when search functions exist? But it doesn''t.


    Not here. Curses.


    Okay, that''s my boredom limit. Time to go bother the nerd. Make sure he''s actually doing his work and not just oh I don''t know, organizing a secret collection of bones or something.


    "Father....are any of those.... human?" I grimace at the case.


    One that could be mistaken for a modern woman''s jewelry case, except for the clear glass top showcasing the very much not jewels.


    "Of course. Why ever would I have something so mundane- no perhaps I should be more concerned why that of all things is your first thought. " father looks down at me again with that look reserved for mutated bacteria.


    "So....not humans?"


    "I see no purpose in keeping such specimens, our bones aren''t very valuable nor malleable. Ivory, however, now that''s a different matter. It''s very likely more profitable to refine the goods and wastes from the hunts than to just sell them."


    "Is that why your accountants are allowed out on the hunts even though it''s dangerous and they''re all squishy nerds."


    "Partly. They''re not all accountants nor as yielding to the flesh my dear. It would be unwise to collect only one type, as well as irrational to risk a group for potential loss."


    "So the nerds can be out to inspect the goods on-site or at least in camps?"


    "Something like that. I believe it would prove to be far more effective. The lot of those oafs damage their far kills too much."


    Now that I can believe. Sure the main point was once to kill hungry hormonal beasts, reduce their numbers. But these days people have the luxury of just bagging kills and making some pocket money from them. You can''t just sell a pelt full of bloody holes and burns.


    My grandfather''s troops act as the organization, the closest thing to an adventurer''s guild to our members. Common people and non-troops members have to find their own markets to sell goods they don''t keep and use for themselves. It appears that this year, my father has taken a much more active part in organizing the logistics side, even sending out his own people.


    People like Barbara''s fiancee, Nicola. Which is another part of the misunderstanding between the happy couple? It''s an unprecedented level of organization and active supervision for the troops issued hunts. With ''camp'' centers set up for villagers to sell their parts and catches directly. A middle man of sorts.


    Makes sense, someone has to buy the goods that everyone is out hunting. Otherwise, it''s just stew meat and scrap material. It''s not like the average person can determine the most valuable parts of all these different species, nor dismantle them properly. The vast majority of people don''t even know what parts are even generally used for, including me. More the specialty of Vincent or some other alchemist and similar profession. Practically witchcraft in the eyes of the ignorant.


    A portion has always automatically gone to the troops, to keep up expenses and make profits. We''re not a charity. With that in mind, father''s new plans being implemented is actually a business smart approach.


    It''s not as glamorous as slaying some mystical dinosaur beast on the front lines, but money and logistics are what actually makes the world go round.


    What a strange thought not unwelcome butterfly effect.


    No matter how much I tiptoe or hop, my current height prevents me from getting a good look at the current case. The little bones and teeth sectioned and labeled like a museum''s catalog. It gets even worse when father pulls out a shiny ivory fang, like a shark tooth, dangling it around for me to jump at.


    I''m pretty sure father is in great need of entertainment because I think he''s enjoying making me jump. Why there were even books assigned for me to find today in addition to just reading them, forcing me to toddle around stepping stools and too high bookcases.


    Wait a minute, do my pumpkin undies show easily in this outfit?


    Realization strikes me like lightning. I hastily plop back on the ground, partially frozen in the mortification.


    Oh dear lord, they do.


    May the gods of this world take me now to bury in shame.


    I''ve been hopping around like a defenseless schoolgirl in a fluttery skirt. The kind I have always refused to even cosplay as an adult. On a child, it''s equivalent to a cute animal in clothes. Oh no, oh god no. My pumpkin shorts of cuteness, my revolutionary kiddy undies, these were not meant for the eyes of others. Let alone the cold calculative eyes of my lord father.


    "Are you alright down there on the floor Chip?" he looks down at me with a shining smile.


    When I look up, I can see so much, like that shelf I was just on, or that ladder, or to that other bookcase. Causing me to clutch my floofy skirt down tighter.


    "I-improper!"


    "You will have to speak clearly, my little hot cross bun, on to what it is you deem improper. Try again."


    That irritatingly handsome smirk is full of malice. Full knowledge and no shame over what he''s done.


    I want to scream. I''ve been made a show of. A stupid pet. I bet if camera phones existed there would be an embarrassing video of me right at this moment, being uploaded on the internet full of cute cats and stupid chubby toddlers.


    I, a highly educated adult woman with multiple lifetimes experienced, have been had. Played. I really am a weak and defenseless little girl, doomed to a life of abuse by this most likely evil father.


    Where did my high defenses go? Where is that infamous woman known throughout the company for chasing off any creep in the inter-meetings and all public events go? I knew every trick in the book, smart men feared me by reputation alone, stupid ones destroyed, their egos shattered and recycled. Yet here I am getting panty shot.


    What skill. It can only be...from a player.


    Yes yes, a secret fiend experienced at playing women! The checklist all marks off, so long as no one knows about his nerdy side. The schoolyard tease with the face of a hellish fallen angel, a medieval equivalent of a politics playing smooth CEO. What scum! How could I have been so blind?


    Women of all classes must have thrown themselves at him! Actually...in Rosalia''s memory, they did. So that means they still do? Not that they ever succeeded, nor would this stupidly doting husband ever cheat but some of their blatant attempts were....um...hmm yeah.... let''s not ponder about that much right now. That''s enough grossness for this time period.


    To think father was this sort of man under it all, it actually all makes sense now!


    Perhaps mother actually suffers greatly behind the scenes?


    Oh she must! I mean I suppose she does always gets sort of jealous easily but that''s just a given with your man is...that.


    How many noblewomen have fallen for your ploys and got ripped off hmm?! I''m calling it right now! How awful it must be to be played by this nerd, either way.


    I didn''t know how to explain to mother just how...tittilating... some of her nightgowns were, like the flimsy one she wore last night when Lilyanne and I so suddenly burst into her quarters. I don''t think she knows. I honestly don''t think mother really knows as she still prances and spins about with Lilaynne in that provocatively tight and frilly thing. Either that or she really does have no shame.


    When I tried....asking, she just gushed how they were special commissions, surprise gifts from father. Or how she felt soooooo loved that he was thinking of her when he bought dozens of them. Bleck.


    Ah, I knew there was a reason why they were so nice compared to some of the rest of her closet.


    I am beginning to actually feel sympathy for my mother. Perhaps ignorance really is bliss.


    How awful. Last night I feared I passed out in shock and shame, thus avoiding any more awkward confrontation outside mother''s chest.


    But here I am today, seeing father''s true colors. I know I certainly suffered from this type of man in my past. You really can''t trust appearances! Even more so if the man knows he''s good looking and knows how to use it just right. It''s essentially just a type of serial killer!


    Awful, just awful. This hidden type of pervert is the worst.


    An unwelcome unassuming face pops up in the recess of my mind. Very unwelcome.


    A bright face that really should have been ordinary. Soft black hair, like bold brushes of calligraphy ink on skin as clean as fresh white paper. Paired youthful countenance of a young boy still growing into himself, into a man, fresh and strong as green bamboo. In another world, his features were rarer than any gem.


    A disgustingly sweet voice that seems to tickle, that itches all the way deep in my ears so much it somehow followed me another life.


    "Noona~"


    *smack*


    "....What."


    "Noona! Why did you hit yourself? Ah don''t do that, your cheeks are already very red and very cute."


    The college student decided at that moment to not only slap herself again but to physically push the sudden appearance at the table away. That would solve her vision.


    "I''m just tired from studying too much Jung-Joon. I''m seeing things."


    "What sort of things?" he asked, clamoring back up to his seat.


    "Stars for one."


    "Ah, that''s just from looking at me right?"


    With far too much confidence for a young teen, the boy points to his own smiling face. Invisible sparkles and flowers swirling out in the visions of many people, including but not limited to Meng. She felt a headache coming, yes it must be a headache.


    "...You. Don''t spout out lines like that. Have some shame. Understand?" she makes to pinch and pull at his cheeks, the baby fat still soft and full on the younger boy''s face.


    "If I say no, do you keep personally teaching me like this? Up close?" he grinned in her hands.


    "No, I''ll twist, like this." and she does.


    Despite the sounds of ''ow ow ow'' and the physical distorting of a perfectly fine face, the teen laughs and makes no move away from the petty abuse. In fact he might have gotten even closer.


    His much older brother peeks out from behind the bar counter, only to grimace and cry, turning blue.


    "You two! Stop being so disgusting! Not in my bar, actually not anywhere! Oh god eomma was right."


    "Oi bossman, stop exposing Jung-Joon to your bad tv shows. He''s only in high school and he''s being corrupted like this!" Meng retaliated back, demonstrating with the kid''s pulled cheeks.


    "Exactly he''s only in high school! Stop flirting back with a minor! Ah if only I had known this would happen all those years ago." the older man yelled with a pointed finger.


    "Ai, what did you say?! Say that again you perverted old dog? Flirting! See you''re teaching him improper things again. Don''t listen JJ, don''t turn into a loser like your brother either. Jung-Soo is ok but not that one."


    "What?! What was that you little scammer!? Jung-Joon, listen to your hyung, don''t fall for such an ugly and terrifying woman!"


    "Hear that? That''s the cry of a sad single loser who''de rather binge watch harem animes and dramas than work on his own personal life. You must never fall down that path as an attractive man, okay?"


    The switch between argumentative yelling and soft instructions was almost comedic, but one that was rather common around here. Their moods were influenced around easily. At least it was never boring.


    "Hmmm ok. I''ll be an ''attractive man'' for you. I have to be to match up." the handsome teen smiled, reaching to lightly hold onto the girl''s relaxing hands in place.


    His own hands finally large enough to over encompass hers. When he leans in, it''s a very purposeful sort of soft and gentle, still holding back. Like one afraid to scare off a skittish animal, yet overwhelming in how adorable he found her. It made his smile as light and refreshing as the spring breeze.


    "Good boy." she happily patted, not noticing how he openly stared back or even what his statement meant.


    Even if she noticed something, she really didn''t. It''s how this bad comedy could go on. At the very least the mood was oddly pleasant to all who stumbled upon the scene. So pleasant it was violently uncomfortable to the main witness. As much as Jung-Hyuk liked his shows, he felt like gouging his eyes out, maybe crying.


    "Oh god they''re even worse. Break it up, step away from the minor before I call security."


    From the other room, the supposed daytime security yelled back "I still ship it!"


    "Thank you! We''ll set sail as soon as my wife admits it, you''re all invited to the wedding. Hey Meng, what do you want our ship name to be? Also, I was thinking maybe 5 kids. No? Too little?" sang Jung-Joon cheerfully, much to the deepening frowns of the other two.


    That got him another pinch and twist from Meng. As well as a string of curses that sounded like ''illegal'' and coughed up blood from his still very single eldest brother.


    "This is quite bad. Maybe I should be more worried you''ll turn into the opposite of bossman instead. Do you talk like this to your classmates too? Leave those cute innocent highschool girls alone you flirting fiend. What the hell has puberty done to you?" Meng released the teen''s now very pink face from her grasp.


    She put on an overly concerned face for show, sighing into her hand for real. She swears he''s getting worse every year.


    From the metal stairs, another slim figure spoke out as he cooly descended.


    "It''s too late. He''s always been like that. You just refuse to notice the obvious." spoke Jung-Soo bleakly, as if he were reading the morning news.


    Meng let out a fake gasp, turning back to Jung-Joon to squish at that abused face again.


    "Ah even Jung-Soo says you''re a player, what horrible gossip have I not heard? What have you done?"


    "Hmmmm, I guess the female teachers like me more? I get food from girls in home-ec? Oh and after practice. " the youngest offers without much thought.


    "Acceptable then." agrees Meng. As if food could forgive all sins.


    "But..." JJ trails off sadly, instantly breaking her mental montage to all the delicacies she''s eaten on some other sap''s dime.


    "But what? Oh no, really what did you do?"


    "...But they''re not anywhere as sweet as my Meng."


    He reaches again, this time to take a delicate hand into his own. Turning it over to press an open kiss on the soft sensitive side of her small palm. Something she had no choice but to feel in full, from the line of his nose to the edge of a sharpening chin. He was losing that cling of childish softness.


    "....Jung-Soo, Bossman... permission to discipline your youngest."


    The request was met with a mixed reaction between the two brothers. A mix of "oh god please!" and "eeeh he might like that but go for it." Something that was more than good enough for Meng to shake off and smack the growing boy silly with that very same palm. Soon it was stinging enough from hitting hard joints and solid muscles. Soon she no longer felt the phantom sensation of teasing lips or slimming edges.


    It was so cute when he was younger, heart-meltingly so, but now that puberty was really hitting, JJ was no longer just an irresponsible child. Such a shame he refused to learn.


    "I swear you can''t go around spewing stuff like that so casually. One day a girl is actually going to fall for it and you''re going to have to deal with the fallout of that. Are you legit stealing lines from your mom''s dramas? Use that limited brain on your studies instead you numbskull!"


    "So um, is it working?" JJ puppy pouted, looking reminiscent to the kid she once knew. Then she just couldn''t stay mad.


    "Study. Get back to work, finals coming up for everyone. Hand over your bio lab so I can check it. I better not find you messing up answers on purpose again." she smacked him again for good measure, numbing her abused hand from feeling a thing.


    "Yes noona~ Do want to come over for dinner later? I left my English essay in my room. Can you check over that too?" he placated, acting cute.


    "Sure, if it''s quick and your mom doesn''t sack me into doing stuff again. I still have projects to finish detailing and I''m nowhere near done packing or organizing."


    "...Yeah...yeah, I know you''re leaving soon...So it''s fine if we just lock the door again, right?"


    From not just the bar, comes choking sounds, groans of pain, and even squealing noises from somewhere in the back kitchen.


    As Meng looked over in confusion and mild concern, for her boss really was choking, JJ''s doting expression quickly flipped as did his middle fingers. Raised right at his elder brothers, where they both could easily see his grim expression. A real teenager alright.


    When she suspiciously turns back, the fingers and death glare was suddenly gone, replaced with a puppy dog grin. Either way, she flicks him on the forehead before going to back ignoring the kid.


    "Don''t get cheeky."


    "Mengy?"


    "...."


    "I was wrong. Come anyways? Please."


    "I didn''t say I wouldn''t." she finally scoffed to his pleas, physically moving his head to turn back on his school work.


    She observed this strange space around them. Too quiet, yet just right in the day time, all before the bar opened at night. This space she''s been more than working in the last couple of years. The people, strangers turned regulars into her life.


    It felt surreal.


    "Are you going to visit your brother before you go?" remarked Jung-Soo, laptop already pulled out. The man either not bothered or deeming it safe to take a seat at the table Meng and JJ occupied.


    "Hmm....yeah. He''s out the hospital right now....feeling better. After my last final, I''ll go. It works out."


    "Yeah, stop by our house later. There are pears and some stuff that will be nice house gifts to take back." he smiled, gentler yet no less refreshing than his younger brother.


    The pen Meng was marking with stopped, as did her breath. One beat, two, she swallowed dryly, refusing to feel touched by something so simple. Lingering guilt followed though she nodded with thanks and a smile she knew didn''t look too plastered on.


    Make it natural.


    From where he was counting the inventory, the boss''s booming voice sounded out.


    "Your mom has been remarried for a few months now. How''s it going?"


    "Seriously?" came a disembodied voice from behind the sliding kitchen door, followed by some giggles.


    "Shut up!" snapped back the probably most disrespected employer in town. But that was part of the reason Meng had even stayed for so long. For sort of kind and hapless man, even if he was a loser.


    "Better. My uncle''s nice....it''s getting better. Thanks for asking."


    "You still keep in good contact? Good, bring nice shit back. Don''t give your mom room to complain about. "


    "...Yeah. Thanks bossman."


    Deep breathes. Meng takes deep breathes because it doesn''t bother her. After all these years it shouldn''t still bother her. Not just her parents'' divorce, but the lasting effects it had. She''s an adult now, it doesn''t bother her anymore.


    No one mentions her father, maybe it doesn''t come up, maybe they all knew too much. Meng tries not to let it bother her how much she''s probably pitied. Always has been. She swallows down her pride like acid reflux coming back up, again and again.


    JJ silently leaned in again, resting his weight on her side and knocking her thoughts sideways. In recent years, his height shot up, towering over her where he once used to rest comfortably. His body heat still penetrating, even through the A.C.


    "Is she happy?" the teen asked, soft against where he leaned.


    "I ....would think so. Happier." Meng doesn''t shake, and if she does, it''s stabilized by the other weight half holding her without her permission. Something she''s hardly noticed at this point.


    "Hmmm. Okay then. To a happy marriage."


    Meng bites her lip but one glance is all it takes. One turn and glance at those black moon eyes, lazy in the light, looking up at her with such honesty that she chokes on everything she''s just swallowed. It comes out before she could even think about it.


    "I still don''t even know what that means."


    "Hmm?" the teen hummed lazily, his arm tightening around her waist.


    "No, nothing. Here, you did a good job but rewrite your conclusion, I can tell you just got lazy and repeated yourself."


    "Meng...are you-"


    Another voice shouts out from the other room, interrupting with the start, "My ex wife is crazy and I love her. We were happy together and we''re very happy separated."


    "Jones, that''s because you''re both gay." Jung-Hyuk signed from behind a section of the bar.


    "Great marriage, worked out super well. Ended even better, her new wife is just adorable" responded back the security guard.


    From the sliding door two women, one old, one young, popped out their heads ready to join the conversation despite their boss'' squawking.


    "My moms weren''t married of the time I was growing up but I don''t think it mattered much. Things didn''t really change at home after it was legalized." said a dark skin Asian girl, a few years older than Meng, snacking on fresh chips.


    "That''s so sweet Hailey, I divorced my husband after he slept with my sister. Of course, she told me he wasn''t even any good, aye that pat¨¢n. I could have told her that after 20 years. We still raised up three good kids, sent them to college. Marriage wise, eh, not so bad. We had a good run." similarly munched the older woman, a bit of an accent to her.


    "Do I pay you all to eat and chat?!"


    "Booo. Don''t be a bore."


    "Vete a fre¨ªr bu?uelos you holgaz¨¢n."


    "Aww come on boss, don''t be like that. You know what you need? To get boned, look so my ex''s wife knows a girl who maybe doesn''t think she likes women anymore so-"


    Red faced, Jung-Hyuk uselessly blew up at his employees. Not that they listened. John was still trying to set the man up.


    "What everyone is trying to say, is that no one really knows what it means. It can be happy, sad, or whatever you make of it. Personally, I think it''s just light domestic abuse. " calmly stated the middle brother, not even looking up from his laptop.


    When he does, it''s with warm eyes and a sly knowing smile towards the awkward pair at the table. The expression was so familiar that Meng breathes a sigh at relief, the strange tension in her gone. Possible the result of the comforting warmth still on her side and all the jolly banter all around her.


    "From your mom?" joked back Meng, offering a small thankful smile.


    "Yeah, sure. Our eomma, " chuckled Jung-Soo, pushing back up his glasses. Even though soft smile he offered looked more like a judgemental smirk. Can''t be helped, that''s just how his aura was. At least he was good eye candy Meng sighed to herself.


    "Do you know what I think?" pushed Jung-Joon, sliding a pile of books between his brother and the girl in his arm.


    "Consensual domestic abuse."


    "I don''t trust what you think."


    Jung-Soo and Meng answered at the same time, their words overlapping. JJ pouted, play acting as if he was actually wounded.


    "Aww, don''t be like that. Really? I think most people get it wrong. Being together, just staying by someone''s side...isn''t that a nice dream? If you could just stay by that person''s side, even if the past already happened and the future is happening before we can catch our breath. I think it would a miracle if I could live through it all with anyone. So, can it be with someone I picked? Someone that makes you want to think ''Ah, can it be you? Can I have it be you?'' ....Is that too simple?"


    "..."


    "..."


    Somewhere, wolf whistles sounded out. It sounded like John and Hailey before a hot-headed man yelled at them to all get back to work setting up for the night. Somehow though, he left his little brothers alone. That family immunity maybe, not as if he could ever win against them.


    "Not bad." relented Meng, offering a head pat on the much taller youth. "Keep that up and you''ll turn out better than bossman for sure."


    It was simple yeah, far to simple for reality. But if it was this kid, with eyes and dreams higher than the sky, she hopes he gets it. She hopes he gets the world.


    "Hmmm, you know what else I think?" titled Jung-Joon, expression entirely too blank and serious.


    "...What?" she didn''t trust it, but somehow she was already wrapped up in his arms?


    "I think married couples pull off shit like this."


    He goes for her ear, a long loud smack, with the barest hint of teeth scratching along the lobe. He really wished he could hold on longer, reluctant to part as blood rushed up for that alluring red blush. But he wanted to live another day, maybe past graduation? So....


    "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! You! Get the hell back you fucking little shit!!!"


    "Scuse me, sorry Paula, excuse me~"


    "Fuck! I''ll bury you in the parking lot, asphalt be damned! Sorry Paula. Get fucking back here so I can Gfkdaljalf#!@"


    As they clamored over the bar and through the back kitchen and corridors, another regular to their bad comedy, Jung-Soo still didn''t look away from his laptop.


    "Domestic abuse." he sighed, right again.


    A bad comedy plays in my head like an old video tape, the image squeaky as it rewinds.


    Even if it was real, even if I pressed and kept my finger the rewind button, it wasn''t going to work. Nothing would rewind. I can''t rewind myself back to that time. To any of it.


    "Chip? Are you still sulking?"


    The man that picks me up in obscenely handsome, even if he is a read head. Sleeker and wealthier than any guy I''ve ever worked with, and my old company handled some insanely loaded people. I always got the priciest designer gifts from them, even if I had to sit through some awful meal times. I should thank my lucky stars I get to use him, this father, as both a walking atm as well as some golden eye candy. Even if I do have the suckiest identity in this world.


    "...."


    "There there now, papa was wrong. Here now you can see all the shining teeth in this case here. Don''t try to touch as not all of them are safe for bare skin."


    "Hmmf."


    "That''s my girl. Now can you tell me how much this specimen here would go for in the current market in an unprocessed state?"


    I let father distract me, coax me even. The various little treasures in the cabinet of curiosities a lesson as much as it is fun. The abstract idea of money, how much such things could earn me, as well as the sparkling gems and magical beast cores, soothed my greedy little nerves.


    That''s right, money makes the world go round. Even my own. Yet I finding myself still frowning.


    "How much am I worth?"


    "...What was that Chippy?


    "How much was one Rosalia worth? My engagement. How much?"


    For a moment, it''s just a staring match. Golden eyes pester mine as piano fingers brush my admittedly red-tinged bangs back. They''re longer than any man I''ve ever known, though it may just look that way due to my current size. They''re longer and oddly paler than even Jung-Joon''s.


    It''s really been three years huh?


    At this point, that brat is the same age I was when I died. He''s finally caught up huh?


    "Oh Rosalia."


    The man I currently am forced to call father wipes at the moistness under my eyes. Ah don''t touch me so carelessly, it stings. What if I get an eye infection? Who knows what you''ve been touching lately.


    Despite my protests, he carries me down to a flat glass case. A yellowed detailed map pressed carefully flat, making the stains and tears all the more visible. The most details centering around one particular landscape, Ventrella territory and it''s surroundings, growing blurrier and vaguer at the edges. There was even a burnt mark at more than one corner but that didn''t diminish the sheer amount of notes and arrows in empty spaces of the hand drawn map.


    It looks like grampa''s handwriting.


    "How much do you think that is worth?"


    I wrinkle my nose at the filthy thing.


    "The paper or the actual land? If that''s grampa''s then that thing can go for millions at collector''s auction."


    Father smiles, still petting my hair annoyingly as if I were a pet cat. My answer in range of his expectations. Really now, I wonder what I can say that would actually surprise this man. Other than the truth that is my birth, my existence.


    "It was once considered worthless. This territory. The highest amount of magic spots, beasts galore, a forest of death expanding across leaving the open plains barren. Even if you could reach it by sea, there little good to be found. The people waiting to die."


    I''m not liking this comparison after my very impulsive question. I really should have known better than to ask this man. He is after all, the one who sold me.


    Just like him.


    Even though they''re different, so vastly different....why is it...that I compare them? This man isn''t my real father. He''s classy, handsome, and securely wealthy. He has a wife who loves him, who he loves back, a happy marriage whatever the hell that means. He sold me, he legitimately sold me in this world that accepts arrange marriages. What father does that?


    "What kind of scum would do that?!" shrieks a voice, a scratchy playback in mind.


    A useless sort of man, too kind for his own good and really not boss material at all. This strong slightly chubby man, possibly handsome if he shut his mouth, over a whole decade older than me. Than who I was, once.


    "You! Don''t go along with it so easily you stupid little girl! If your parents told you to go jump on a knife would you do that?! Aigoo! Ai this is not how I saw my day going! Ah run faster, don''t waste my efforts!"


    I remember. It was raining that day and I lost a slipper. I was so out of breath I felt like I was drowning. Do you know how hard it is the coordinate running like that?


    "Don''t fuck with me you weird old man!" I was angry.


    "The hell!? I''m still a handsome young man! Oppa, it''s Jung-Hyuk oppa. You should be thanking me and calling me oppa! What the hell was that man back there then?! Your grandfather?! You were going to fuck with that instead?! Ah teens these days."


    "Shut the hell up!"


    "You shut up!"


    "Aaaaahhhh!!!!"


    "Ai, do you know you cry so ugly!? Your father is such a stupid man, trying to sell off such an ugly girl! And the idiot offering money? For an ugly brat like you?! No eyes at all!"


    "Shut! *hic* the fuuuck up!"


    "Yah, if you have the breathe to cry so much run faster! Keep up with me! It''s okay. It''s okay to just run. You''re a very ugly girl so it''s okay to just run, you don''t have to do that for trash that sells his own brat. I don''t know your situation but you don''t want it right? That''s why you''re still running with me. So it''s okay, it''s going to be okay. Bear with it and just run, just a little more."


    It was raining, it was a mess. It was one of the worse days in my young life.


    That''s how I met Park Jung-Hyuk.


    That''s how I came to owe him a debt that money couldn''t ever pay back. That''s how I was forced crashed into a silly man''s life, into that family. That day I ran away from my own father, the kind loving father who above all sense, sold me. I ran through a storm and came across the strange warmth of a foreign bakery. Even from the cold outside, it smelled of baking bread and sweet honey.


    That strange man, dripping water like a soaked dog, stepped right through that yellow-lit threshold, yelling in a language I didn''t understand.


    I was frozen, numbed by running far past my limit while pelted with that awful rain. I stayed frozen, stuck and unsure what to do. On what I had done.


    The door clatters noisily as it opens all the way. Golden artificial light temporarily blinding me.


    A little boy stood there, all alone, just as frozen. I''m sure I must have looked like a mad witch to him, I''m sure I must have frightened him badly. The rain poured on.


    Stiffly, a small hand reached out and waved to me.


    "Rosalia."


    Golden light turns to golden eyes. The dark silhouette of that little boy gone, but a shadow, concentrated down to my father''s pupils and the squeaky playback of my own mind. It sounds like the static storm of that day.


    I think this heartbreak is my own. I think I''ve been holding it in for a long time, longer than I''ve been alive.


    There''s a warmth I can''t ever get used to pressed against my forehead, those golden glimmering eyes far too close.


    "The price of this peace, this land, all the wonders and potential that I see every day I''ve been blessed to stand here, is worth exactly that. Priceless"


    Kisses at my eyes, tickle wet with shed and still dripping tears. I don''t want it. This kindness I''ve never received, not even once. Not in any lifetime. I don''t want any of it. I want to go back.


    I don''t even know what I want.


    "Rosalia. Tesoro mio."


    I cry like I did that day, drowned and out of breath. Ugly and silent. The kisses at my face breaking me to cry even more. The damn I keep patching up failing me in the violent storm that never ended.


    This man doesn''t understand. He could never. He''s not from my world and he''s not my father. He broke his own daughter''s heart and now he''s somehow still breaking mine.


    I know. I''ve known. I''ve known for so long and it still hurts so bad I can''t catch my breathe.


    The kind and loving father that I always known, had trusted, sold me out so easily. For his job, his promotion, money to save our breaking family. To save a stressed and fickle mom from breaking us further, to save Heng Fei and all the costs that came at keeping him alive. To save his honor as the man of the house, he sold me.


    Some connection, some superior has said I caught his eye. Had for a while. Said he never had a daughter, let alone one as cute as me. Said he would love it if I ever came over to play.


    On that rainy day, my ba'' broke. On that day he sold me to a man older than himself because money makes the world go round.


    Rosalia would understand.


    But that girl is dead. Dead, dead, and gone. She wasn''t even born this time around. It''s just me. It''s just me, the girl that ran and can''t stop fucking looking back.


    "Rosalia." the lingering kisses, this softness doesn''t end and I can''t take it.


    My cries don''t make any sense, all nonsense and not enough breath. Gibberish only I can make out.


    Why?


    Why did you sell me?


    How much am I worth to you?


    How much?


    "Priceless. My little treasure is priceless."


    I want to scream into that well-groomed face that nuzzles mine so brazenly. As if he actually cares. I want to deafen those redding ears. I want to ask everything the original ghost of this body didn''t get the chance to, was too scared to.


    "*hic* L-liar!" I sob, choking on myself.


    I want to ask.


    I want to finally ask if it was worth it. I want to watch as he crumbles, breaks, because he lost everything and more, even his pride. I want to scream and lie how much I hate him, for what he did to me. For what he let almost happen. I wanted him, us, back to the way were.


    But I can''t.


    I don''t exist in that world anymore. I can''t confront my dad anymore. I should have while I had the chance, all those years. I shouldn''t have just silently held it in, lying to myself that I moved on. I should have listened to everyone who told me otherwise, to Jung-Joon.


    I can''t see a single soul, not anymore.


    Liars, it''s not okay. It''s not okay and it never will be.


    "Chip. Tresoro. Little rising ball of dough. Rosalia. What''s wrong today? It''s not the hunt that upsets you. What makes my Rosa cry so awfully? Hmmm?"


    "Liar."


    "Hmmm, what have I done today? To make my little girl so tearful."


    This man is awful, a true player. He nuzzles me with the experience of a man that has certainly made girls cry before. Cry and coaxed into the palm of his hand.


    "You''re awful-*hic* and I''ll hate y-you *hic* forever." Yet I grip into his hold tighter.


    "Ah, I see. Then I suppose I''ll be contracted to make it up to you forever. No?"


    Tight, his hug is so tight but somehow I feel as if I''m still lost and floating.


    The tears still see no end. I suppose I really am the twin of the crybaby Lilyanne. Gripping and refusing to let go. It''s like I''m no longer in control of this body.


    Sometimes I''m not. Some of these things I feel aren''t mine, though they mix and intermingle.


    To the little unloved ghost I know is still lingering, merely sleeping, I know. I know what it''s like when your parents, your father, is not a good person. I know it''s a hard pill to swallow. I know what it''s like to still love them, even if you don''t know what that word means.


    I know, and I''m sorry. I''m just as bad. I''m just as bad as you.


    Soft lips, a married taken man''s kiss lingers at my forehead. At too hot face and ears. When he rocks my like a child I hit him for patronizing me.


    "I''m not marrying him!" I really don''t know what I''m saying.


    "Oh? That? Your engagement? Well, I didn''t really expect you to."


    "Liar! I better be worth a lot! More than anything you own! I''m not cheap."


    "Inconceivable. Did someone indicate you were? My daughter? Give papa a hint and I''ll have them punished and sold off for a pretty penny to soothe your awful little red head."


    "You''re awful."


    "I suppose my dear, that we are."


    Currently, this body is not mine. For it only clings on, as foul as my mouth operates. My arms keep holding on as I bury myself into father''s hold. As if I could crawl into his chest and beating heart, begging not to be forgotten.


    I just don''t know who is begging.


    Rosalia or me? I don''t know who I''m begging either.


    Just don''t forget me.


    You can sell me off, you already have. You can leave or watch me leave, both. Just don''t forget me.


    "...Don''t forget me."


    "....."


    I think father holds me the rest of the day, silent as he was. I don''t remember, for I fell asleep. His steady heartbeat was louder than the static rain outside.


    ------

 107 Weddings over, party time.

    "Make it smaller."


    "Awww but pumpkin, the best wat to eat it is by ripping through with your own bare teeth, feels the strain and tear as its muscles gives way before your-"


    "Smaller!" I yell at grampa.


    "Teeth! Train your jaws!" he chews back.


    "Train my what?! I''m three! "


    "When your mama was your age-"


    I don''t know if the oaf is serious or just teasing me. I don''t want to think about it, the horrifying mental picture getting clearer and clearer in my head. Stop ruining what image I had left of mother in my mind.


    A rib rack that makes grampa''s enormous hands look small sits in front of me. Beyond that something I can only call a mountain of meat.


    When skinned, dismembered, and browned, dripping in it''s own juices, I don''t have to worry too hard about the mosaic censorship animal things that it once was but over a day ago.


    I remember all right. Skinned blood carcasses, unidentifiable, chopped up and piled high in a soaking brine of their own blood. It was practically a meat packaging house earlier. Hauls of deemed useless parts, pure meat and bone.


    Then there''s the uncooked grains similar to polenta stuffed into the clean empty chest cavities. A stuffing of dough and tiny sour berries in some parts. A scattering of bulb onion, artichoke and other barely in-season vegetables. More pales and budding green than any other color for vegetables.


    Now here''s the crazy part.


    This mountain of meat, of death, with the barest hints of carbs and vegetables to make a complete roast. How should such a thing be cooked?


    Well cover all that shit in mud. That''s right. MUD! Just bury in mud. Preferably in a pit of burning coals and flames. Funeral prye it. Set the mud on fire and let it burn. Bury it in more flames and really let it burn. Maybe roast some potatoes for a snack as you let it burn all day and night.


    Absolutely amazing.


    I''m so glad this is a ''traditional'' special cooking technique of the local land. Who needs a proper wedding menu when people just do this big ol mud pot? One that arose many decades ago when a young wandering hero saved an entire defeated army and the village it near laid waste to with this legendary meal made nothing but a hoard of beasts, wild grass and livestock calvery feed stuffed in.


    Thanks, grampa. Thanks for the mud roast.


    Thus was born the celebratory roast worthy as the grand main course of any banquet, even a wedding. Whooopeeeee.


    Thankfully, things have been....improved, since the time of my grampa''s.....introduction of this legendary dish.


    "It was an accident! Tripped and set a trap on fire, turned out pretty good!"


    This is not a great Ventrella secret to take to our graves or anything. Grampa bluntly tells everyone that, whether they believe him or not. Just like he did last night over the burning pit, roasting some freshly dug up overwintering blue potatoes.


    Yes, we got blue potatoes in this world. Shame I can''t say they taste any more magical than a regular potato. They''re uh, a little earthier and a lot harder? Still a potato? It''s not an ube or anything otherwise we''d solve some problems with the general lack of sweets. I miss ube.


    I digress.


    In front of me is the steaming stuffed meat, cooked long and slow in a baked bbq essentially.


    At least it was fun to destroy it. The first crack is honorably given to the happy couple in the spotlight. Cutting the cake together? No, take a war hammer and just smash open the wedding roast.


    That''s right. It''s the wedding roast.


    Served outdoors in an open field outside one of the local farming villages, where the bride''s family resides.


    The wedding is already here and I hardly got anything to do with it. My wedding menu!!! I could hardly get a few dishes into the set. Well it is hard to plan when it''s someone else''s family wedding, especially when I''ve been buried in so much homework time with or without father. There were other priorities to juggle.


    Like mother and her designer fussing over the dress.


    Since the bride is a commoner, full of practical common sense, there were a lot of ideas and designs shot down. It''s just too extravagant for Barbara''s heart to take, and by that, I also mean too weird.


    That includes mine, not that anyone really trusts a toddler. Booo.


    We could have left it at that but mother needs to spend money on pretty things. Mother. Not me. Don''t blame me, I''m only 3. She was just itching to spend after drab winter and I just....need to fix fashion. Just a little.


    Barabara can have her pretty wedding gown without vomiting blood at the costs. Something that makes her happy because that''s all that really matters. While mother and I ...work on the bridesmaids and groomsmen! Yes! How revolutionary! More things to make! More people to dress!


    Unlike a modern wedding that I''m used to, there is no concept of bridesmaids or such. The married couple would have a ''witness'' on each end, say the best man and maid of honor, but that''s about it.


    What a good promotion! Mother even somehow borrowed grampa''s weird megaphone to make the announcements. A free outfit for the new bridal party!


    Unfortunately Barabara and Nicola were swamped by their peers for the following days after that until they finalized their choices of close friends, relatives, and the lucky colleague. Yeah maybe we shouldn''t have promoted it like that?


    We bought lots and lots of the nicest locally produced fabric that we could. Which was honestly easier than I expected at this time of year. It seems my mother is quite the VIP customer. The driving force that keeps our local lace and ribbons market afloat.


    Makes sense. They''re high labor but really not considered necessary the way clothing cloth or shoe leather is.


    Ribbons and small attachments are so cute and easy to wear though. The quality and designs of our territory''s market are getting a lot better with practice and manufacturing. Sales rising as they become more in demand. I''m glad the market is stable enough that nice plain and pre-tied ribbons are beginning to be an affordable little luxury to many common girls. For cuteness rules all!


    Ah no wonder mother always has so many ribbons for my hair. She''s surprisingly good at bow tying and crocheting. I wonder if Gable taught her that?


    I also seem to recall the original getting most of her clothes shipped and imported from the capital or other places known for their luxury goods. The best of the best sort of thing. So what changed have her shift her first line of business to the local markets, beyond just easy ribbons or accessories?


    The banshee clown incident.


    We all almost died for a good cause then. Mother''s been rather wary of the mystery shipped items since then. For good reason!


    Can people send catalogs or a sketch before they purchase and ship them over to my house? Mother''s blind closet is full of enough ugly things! Just stop sending them to her! Or else they go in my recycle basket.


    These bridesmaid dresses, of course, aren''t from the recycle pile. That''s just rude. I wish I had more of a hand in them instead of just trusting mother but I really was too busy with the groomsmen outfits. Tailored pants are a must! A full tailored may be too much but I can get away with pants and Alfonso''s smart waistcoat and jacket. Oh and buttons. Luckily Nicola and his groomsmen are all some sort of nerd, who understood the appeal of these newly tailored clothes and leather loafer shoes. I didn''t even have to threaten anyone! The problem was that in turn they have more refined and expensive tastes than the bridesmaids.


    Oh well no problem for me! The cost of not having men in easter colored tights is priceless. Good taste beyond time and ''trends'' is absolutely priceless.


    Even though it was the women who were squealing and jumping up and down for free new dresses, it was the groomsmen who ended up shining. The cost of the mens'' ended up being worth 6 times the ladies''....


    Um...let''s just...not ever show my parents that ledger receipt. I can bribe the accounting department....technically I already did... It was an apology gift for the earlier mob incident? My father doesn''t have to know ok!


    Well, at least the decor is good and everyone looks happy.


    The wedding roast is more the tastes of the villagers I suppose.


    There''s only so much food you can make in advance and deliver this far. Even though my family has come to ''bless'' this first wedding of the land, it still took us almost a full day''s ride by our still too bumpy carriage.


    Which is why I''m absolutely starving now. Thank you motion sickness, for destroying the contents of my stomach and general health.


    With a sigh, I pull back my tiny sleeves and grab the smallest unattached bone. It''s still the size of a slice of watermelon and I may have to eat it as such.


    What unrefined manners for a little lady but when your grampa is....that, well it can''t be helped. There''s no way I can resist not getting any of this succulent roast, swallowing back the drool that moistens my throat.


    I dig in like a beast. Or a hungry girl at a bbq. Same thing.


    Oh my! Tastes like baby back ribs, yummy.


    Ah it''s much softer than it looks, probably from the slow cooking process of a day and a night. Still it''s difficult for a child like me to eat. It''s a good thing there''s no bbq sauce covering this or I''d be even more of a mess. Munch munch chew chew.


    "Thatta girl!"


    Ack! I near choke as grampa pats me on the back. Hey! Did he get my dress dirty?!


    Eh whatever, that''s practically expected with grampa. Even more so because this is a village.


    The sun is low in the sky. Toasts of mead and wine flow from crate after crate. A ring of locals girls and women with festive budding flowers and flowing ribbons in their hair dance in a ring, round and round. Their cleanest linen skirts flowing with their giggles and steps. The crowds clapping and cheering along to the funny lute music as they dine over the overflowing cracked bake, more and more food still coming from the seemingly bottomless pit


    There''s more than one village gathered around here. A good scattering of adventurers and troops members as well. Some people know each other, some don''t.


    It''s like a festival. Not all commoner weddings are this grand but the cheer and sharing attitude are the same. An absolute stranger could come peddling right up and pull up a seat at the wedding feast.


    It''s a happy occasion, and such happiness should be shared. That the attitude around here when it comes to feasts and food. Maybe ribbons if mother is involved.


    What generosity.


    Hard to believe this land would ever starve.


    It''s just a simple wedding but it''s as crowded as a fair. The good mood of the hunt, of the change of seasons, warming the air.


    "Ahhhh I love a good wedding!" grampa makes a satisfying sound after chugging the contents of his mug. Something alcoholic I note with a twinge of jealously.


    Weddings aren''t just right without getting shitfaced. But I''m three, thus no drinking allowed.


    "How come you never got married then?"


    Even though I''m already mid chewing on some ribs, he drops a stuffed bird from the pile, surprising me. Then goes for another swig of his personal wine flask before some happy drunkard could refill his mug. Ah yes that''s the right kind of wedding atmosphere.


    "I was rejected," he whines into his drink.


    "Ah."


    "1,527 times!"


    "Oh...."


    As confused as I am, I continue to stuff my face. Half because that got ridiculously awkward fast, and half because this polenta bird is actually pretty darn good.


    As much as I make fun of grampa, he''s actually a very popular guy. I mean, he''s the hero for god damn sake. And it''s not like he''s ugly or anything, there''s a reason people keep making statues and busts of him.


    Sure he never brought a lady home, or even had those scandals that powerful men his age tend to get into, but that''s because he''s THE crazy old man. That and he had my mother. No one ever talks about it but she had to have come from somewhere.


    "That''s uh....statistically really hard....after 1,500? times? You sure you counted right? No wait why did you eve count that in the first place?"


    "Hmmmmmm, you''re right pumpkin! It could be more!"


    "...What?"


    " I''ll check with Gable later!"


    I munch on my meal, concluding that maybe he''s just already drunk. No wedding is complete without a few old drunks.


    "So uh, how many of those times were repeats? " I play along, because that''s just what you do.


    "All of them."


    I maybe choke on a bone.


    "I''ve been asking the same person all this time." he drinks.


    That makes absolutely no sense and thus I fully conclude that grampa is already drunk out of his mind. Despite seeming sober but a moment a ago.


    "That''s a lot."


    "Hmmm it has been."


    "You should give up then. Really a big waste of time."


    "Never."


    I don''t know how clean his hands are but the old man pats my head with a little too much force, messing up my ribbon with a mischievous grin that makes him look almost boyish despite being a damn grandfather. There''s something about the light of a setting sun that does something to brown hair, making his glow with a warm halo. For a moment I''m reminded a bit why the original somehow admired this man.


    "Never. I can keep going another 1,527 times no problem! Besides, I was happy. No time wasted at all. I was happy."


    Oh look an onion, it must be the onion, probably undercooked despite the all night mud bake, that''s making my nose twitch like this. Someone must be cutting onions nearby.


    "You''re weird." I state.


    "And you, Rosa girl, are a bitter one ain''t cha?" he grins, smile oddly Holywood perfect.


    I don''t like it. It reminds me of how much of an actor this man really is. How much I am supposed to be.


    "That person. Can you still even ask them anymore?"


    The sun is setting and it''s beautful. People dine and dance. The bride is dressed in a vibrant gown consisting of layers of spring pinks and red, complimenting her dark hair set half loose for the special occasion. It flows beautifully in the wind she and the room rise to make another toast, the sunset framing this scene.


    It''s so loud, so crowded, it''s actually intimate.


    "Are they from then or the now?" I speak normally, but it might as well have been a whisper in all the noise around us.


    Which lifetime are you talking about you old drunkard? This person that made you happy. Which life are you remembering?


    Maybe it''s a good thing I''m so small I can''t drink. Who knows the words I''ll set loose under the influence. The worlds.


    "Can I say both?" the man I call grampa smirks, eyes already twinkling.


    He is but he isn''t. He''s not like my so called parents. I don''t need to feel the peculiar weight as I do with the characters playing mother or father. He knows the truth. I don''t have to play this game with him but we do. There''s no one else like us in the world.


    "No. That doesn''t make any sense. But you never make sense. You''re also drunk."


    "Pffffft, Ha! Hardly! Going to need a good few more cases. The night is young!"


    "The sun''s still up grampa."


    "Exactly! I''m still young, and you''re even younger."


    For a moment there''s a breeze, another casket of wine pops open as people cheer. It''s enough to drink in only the mood.


    "I was never married in any life." grampa brings up, tongue loose as ever.


    "Me either."


    It''s the mood, I''m playing along with the mood.


    "But I was happy. Against all odds, I found the person that makes me even want to be happy. I know I''d find them anywhere."


    "Uh huh. You died though. Now you''re here, had my birth giver, who had me, and we''re all stuck in this."


    "Yeah. Now we''re here....Isn''t it great?!"


    Rule number 3 of a bartender: never ever take a drunk seriously. Should I cut him off at this point? Hmm steady hands, steady pupils, plenty of protein before drinking, ehhh he''s still fine. This is just more grampa nonsense.


    I''m beginning to think this is just a protagonist thing. Speaking crazy stuff no one ever really knows what to do with. Lilyanne is only three right now but it falls in line?


    "Yeah. Reeeeeal fun. You''re a hero. Whoopeee."


    "I don''t feel like it!" he cheers, clinking mugs with a passing group of burly men.


    Big parties really are intimate.


    "You don''t feel like a hero? That''s dumb, you''re already one."


    "The mind plays tricks little one. It tells you everything you did wrong, of everything you couldn''t have. It gives you dead ends that look like paths to wander till you''re dead, or worse."


    He says all this wide a great big party grin, laughing and waving to anyone passes with cheers.


    "You''re drunk." I sip at some water before I can choke again.


    "Not yet! Can''t find him yet. I will when I''m drunker."


    "What?"


    "You sound like you could hold your drink, don''t think I can''t tell Rosalia. So then, you must know. Why we drink. Why we overdo it to the point of sickening ourselves. Why sometimes, everything just makes a hell lot more sense. The world clearer as much as it''s blurry. Drunks lie a lot less, even to themselves."


    "...You sound like an alcoholic."


    "Ah I see him! Sit tight pumpkin, eat your dinner and don''t follow after strange men!"


    And there he goes. Running off into the sunset to who knows what. Really now, who is the baby sitter here? Me or grampa?


    I munch and pick at my food, wondering where everyone has gone.


    Last I recall, Lilyanne''s safely being attended too. Maybe in a baby sling in father''s jacket as they admire the fields of artichokes. Mother was off to change her dress, ruined in a spilled wine accident.


    I want grampa back. I need to prod him more. I hate to admit it, but I need his help. I need to learn how to shut down all the lives swirling around inside me. I can''t afford any more breakdowns, especially as I age. Nor can I shake the questioning gaze that father sometimes lingers on me. It''s too dangerous, all too dangerous.


    I am left alone at a wedding.


    How familiar.


    My throat is dry, dying for a drink of something beyond water or kiddy juice.


    "You''re drunk."


    "Not yet!"


    Meng twirls with a waiter, smoothly picking up her 7th? Yeah, 7th glass of champagne. This does not include the reception cocktails or the cheering shots of shoju. She was always popular at parties, pretty face to fuel the fun and the hype. A wedding is no different.


    A pale but lively girl in a flapper curled pixie cut laughs, taking her other hand to spin Meng, stealing the champagne glass for her own. They''re wearing almost the same dress, just slightly different cuts to flatter each girl just right. The pearly satin material shimmers as they move, revealing smooth shoulders and scandalous dip in the back.


    The lights overhead glow from pink, purple, and gold. Onlookers attracted to the scene might have mistaken the giggling bridesmaids as fairies, sprites, if they didn''t know them. The diamond clips in their dark carefully curled hair sparkling with each and every move.


    "No fair, Sunny get your own."


    "Nooooo you had too much already~"


    "The night is young, how can I have had too much?"


    "Exactly! The night is young and we got soooooo much more to drink and do. Keep up! Don''t die on me!"


    "No fair, don''t compare me to your drinking standards. You''re like a beast!"


    "Right, I''m a beast. That''s why even though I''m so pretty and successful" she flips the hair she doesn''t have with a dramatic wave. "I''m still siiiiiiiiiingle."


    "Saaaaame." laughs Meng, stepping fast as if she was walking on clouds. The girls still holding hands and giggling as they slapped and snarked on each other. Bouncing up on stage in an almost dance, a hazy spotlight following them on.


    "Ugh, shut up."


    "Sunny~ We''re just too cute to be single!? Am I right ladies?!"


    The audience below whistles, some brave tipsy souls yelling out they could fix that.


    "I know right?! Seriously? But today is not our day to shine! Today there is only one girl who matters, my sister Eun-Jung! Drumroll please!"


    Together the smiling girls clasp their hands, making an exaggerated heart as they announce in the bride, changed into yet another dress for the ongoing reception.


    Eun-Jung steps onto the dance floor, glittering in an elegant white mermaid gown. Her every step looking like seafoam crashing on the shore.


    Though that could have just been all the special effects.


    The crowd still goes wild, immersed in the scene, the show. Even the ones running it in the back.


    "Give it up for my guuuuuuuuul!!!!" screams a particularly loud tech, gorgeous dark skin popping in his purple suit.


    "Thanks Niles." announces Meng.


    From where Niles wildly waves, in tune to the playing special effect, sits young teen in a much more normal tux. He still stood out in a brightly LED lit wheelchair, dramatically presses a button, sounding out an obnoxious air horn.


    "Thanks Henry." waves back Sunny, the girls taking turns speaking back and forth.


    "I''d like to call up a very special man to the dance floor, someone who I''m a huge fan of his work" Meng winks to the blushing bride, whistles and jolly jeers sounding from below. Some of it snarky and inappropriate, though lost in the roar of the audience.


    "No it''s not the groom. He has the rest of his life to spend with her." waves off Sunny, acting bored to the hype of the audience.


    "No. Instead, everyone please warmly welcome....."


    "Daddy!"


    The crowd breaks out into cheers and clanging champagne glasses too soon.


    "No! The father of the bride! Oh same thing!"


    The girls make their exit, scampering down in their long dresses at the lights dim to focus on the bride and her approaching father.


    Mr. Park was already an aged man, with hair a salt and pepper white. It was a touching and emotional scene to have the bride shyly fall into her father''s arms amidst the sparkling special effect, the pair full of unshed happy tears.


    Something catches in Meng''s throat, the showgirl smile just on her face faltering, falling.


    In the shadowy dark, she somehow manages to make her way back to her seat, lead by the bride''s younger sister. Even as she moves, she can''t take her eyes away. As the music starts, she feels herself slowly freezing in tune. Legs locking.


    A selfish part of her starts crying. An unreasonable part of her whispers in waves, that she''ll never have that. Can never have that.


    Like a masochist, like a decent person, she watches on. Because it''s her friend''s wedding. Because it''s important. She''s happy for her, she''s happy for them all on this special day.


    So why does it still hurt?


    A wet bottle pops down a the table, shocking both girls.


    "Hey there babycakes. I am currently the best man of this wedding. Want to be my best lady?"


    Well that was sobering.


    Meng grimaces, even as Sunny nudges her, a sign to play nice to the guests. A small crowd of party-ready young men from the groom''s side eager to play the age-old tradition of trying to flirt with a bridesmaid for the night.


    At least the liquor they brought was flowing. Something strong and coconut scented.


    Meng snorts, rolling her eyes when she cooly brushes someone''s approaching arm away from her shoulder. Her legs crossed to kick away another from getting too close. All such cheap moves. But she accepts the shot glass with upturned eyes and a charming smile. There was a technique for handling drunks and keeping the party mood going.


    Before she can tip the glass back, it''s stolen from her the same time the man closest to her stumbles out of his seat. Almost as if he was suddenly kicked off of it.


    All she sees is ivory pale hands, so much larger than her own. Long elegant fingers, the veins running slightly raised with a small simple black tattoo that stood out all the more on the smooth inner wrist. Their hands only brush as they steal her drink but she feels a different sort of chilling shock right through her.


    The surrounding men boo as he takes the shot and Meng doesn''t even need to look up to know who it is, even if his cologne is different today. Something spicey, another layer and edge.


    She does anyway.


    Her throat feels dry watching his adam''s apple bob. Long lines, because that''s what a good tailored suit can do for a man. Any man. It''s not just him she tells herself. Long lines and strong broad shoulders, tapered in tight at the waist. Good suit, a very nice suit. Not looking in lower. But looking back up also feels like a mistake.


    Ink black hair, gelled and coiffed for the occasion, already beginning to messily fall into loose strands over his smiling eyes. Rather than unkempt, it gave him a sexy look, mature. As did the popped open top button to his fine suit. The lines of his jaw sharp and smooth, lips red from where they lick at liquor.


    He gives her a sly wink with those black night eyes before turning to address the crowd, pretending to cough and choke.


    "Ahhhh this stuff is strong! What the hell?!" he plays.


    "Ahahaha this ain''t your piss ass Shoju!"


    "Shot shots shots!"


    "Ha, a hero trying to save the beauty! Don''t be a buzz! Another shot for what you''ve done! Keep it coming boys!"


    He does, takes the shot and hisses after he throws it back to everyone''s laughter. Sunny smacks her brother on the shoulder as he takes a seat, someone already pouring him a third shot.


    "Hey, why didn''t you sacrifice yourself to drink mine?"


    "Because you''re literally my sister? You''re fine. Mengmeng, you''re already so red! How much have you had already?"


    "I just have Asian glow you dweeb."


    "You went up on stage looking like that?" he feels at her too warm face.


    She smacks him on the other shoulder, harder.


    "Yah, don''t get mad? Your red face is sooooo cute, too cute to be single for sure." he teases, that caressing hand going from her cheek to sliding slowly down her bare back, referencing to their earlier joke.


    The electric chill goes through her again and for once Meng agrees that maybe she''s had too much to drink for the time being. She''s drunk. Obviously drunk!


    That''s why she allows it when Jung-Joon easily slides her into his solid lap, leaned into the long lines of his chest, much to the heated whistles and disappointed groans of nearby onlookers. The men previously shoving shots their way the loudest with their complaints.


    "Hey, I''ll take all her drinks and mine. How''s that?" he grins, holding another full shot up for a toast. And the partygoers just can''t say no to a toast.


    Drunk drunk drunk, she''s already drunk. That''s why she''s reacting this way.


    She hides her shameful red face into her hands, wishing either for another few drinks to really black out or to just disappear in this very spot. It''s as comfortable as it is shocking. That hot hand still tracing slow where his arm kept her supported, fingertips playing notes against her ticklish spine.


    "Shut up and gimmie that." she groans, dropping her shield to reach for a shot. Instead a glass of lemon water ends up hands instead. When did that sober shit get there, she wants to ask. Maybe she does.


    "The whole time. Drink it down Mengmeng, it''s good for you." he pats, taking another shot in her honor.


    It''s teasing, it''s routine between them. But somehow the currents that shock through his touch feels so much worse tonight, as bad as the special effect beach waves that Niles and her brother played earlier. It must be because she''s already drunk.


    "I like your dress." J.J. hums close, feeling from bare skin to the smooth slinky material against her side.


    "You''ve been saying that all day." Meng groans out.


    "That''s how much I really like it. Specifically, I like it on you...It looks like the kind of thing you should wear to bed."


    "And I''d like the whole bottle of that, yes. Thank you!" shouts Sunny, reminding everyone that she exists and needed a ton more alcohol to put up with this pair.


    After chugging down the water, Meng goes back to hiding herself in her own hands. Waiting for the shame and drunkness to be over with. Of course fate is not that kind.


    An obnoxious air horn sounds out on the P.A., the spotlight turned directly on their table for all eyes to see.


    "And next up on the itinerary is my J to the J, Jung-Joon. Oi lover boi! Get yo sexy ass up on stage!"


    Time to slide under the table and plot murder. Yes, Meng was now willing to not only murder Niles but her own younger brother for his participation. No mercy. Right after she recovers from this shame, she''ll just kill them. It''s so crowded, no one will notice.


    Which was a solid plan had Jung-Joon not so quickly hopped out of his seat, carrying her off with him.


    "JJ! Drop the girl." announces Niles on the PA system, followed by a judgemental young boy taking over the mic "Jiejie, get off. You''re embarrassing."


    Murder, she''s going to murder them all in cold blood. Who cares if it''s Eun-Jung''s wedding, people need to die. They needed to die 3 minutes ago.


    "Awwwww, I can''t just do that." the cheeky brat, deceptively charming in a suit or not, complains back.


    "Jung-Joon." comes a very different voice on the mic, calm with just the right hint of threat, "put her down and get up on stage."


    Meng thanks all the stars and strobe light on this ceiling for Jung-Soo, the only likable Park brother. That is until he finishes that announcement.


    "You can pull off this shit at your own wedding. Worry not everyone, bets are still taking place. Please report to the table by the registry at zone 3 to place or update your bets. Thank you."


    The spotlight goes out to direct curious eyes to said bet counter, headed by her old bossman. The crew and set up looking far too professional to be a joke. Oh god she even sees her project manager behind there? What the hell?!


    Back in the dark, Meng can feel the hot blood coursing, unfreezing her paralyzed limbs. She screams in Jung-Joon''s chest, the younger laughing out loud as he cradled her head, muffling the sound as he ran.


    "Put me down you-!!!"


    "Okay okay. Just this once, alright?"


    "I can''t god damn believe you!"


    He plops her down into a seat alright, scooting the chair safely and patting the top of her head before making his way up on stage. The problem was that Jung-Joon put her at not only the wrong table, but it was the very worst table imaginable.


    No, not a table full of rowdy drunk guys. That she could actually handle.


    It was the head table, with the parents of the bride.


    She slowly turned her head, awkwardly but respectfully bowing to a glower and a gentle smile of a Mrs. and Mr. Park respectively. Tonight, everything really was worse. She needs another drink. ASAP.


    "....Pardon me." she tries inching away towards escape, or the champagne.


    "Mengmeng, I hope it hasn''t been too hard to on you these days." starts Mr. Park, fixing his glasses and still looking teary from his earlier dance. It guilts her to stay put.


    "Oh no....not at all." she waved off.


    She didn''t know how to say the hardest part was dealing with their youngest son. She was still reeling from what just happened, though it was easier to just...pretend, it was all a drunk hallucination. So awkward....


    "I hope you know then," the gentle older man continues, completely unaffected "that in the future, if...even if there was someone else....I would be honored to have a dance with you at your own wedding."


    "?!!" Meng makes a strange noise, perhaps the sound of an animal dying. It''s something she doesn''t know how to respond to. Already overwhelmed. She''s been overwhelmed. Helping plan a wedding does that to you.


    That''s the only reason she feels like crying.


    She bows her head low, lost on how to answer. If she''s even supposed to answer. She hopes he doesn''t mind.


    She''s used to the hurting, but she doesn''t know how to identify this other strange feeling. Only that she doesn''t hate it, even if it overwhelms her, washing over like ocean waves. Again and again, the water lapping at the shore somewhere inside of her chest.


    It stings.


    She doesn''t hate it at all.


    "Who is cutting onions!"


    My sudden outburst gets some attention from passerby troop members but for the most part everyone leaves me alone. Drunken pink sighs and cooing of "aww it''s the little Miss Rosalia" and "where did she come from?" "No no no She was here this whole time with the general?" and even "now where did he go?"


    So annoying, I swear someone is cutting raw onions around here!


    This outdoor feast is just so messy. It can''t be helped. I suppose local commoner weddings have their own rustic charms.


    Munch munch. Without any legal drinks for me to have, I''m back to eating. Grampa is right, I need to train my jaw. Very satisfying to tear the muscles and tendons. I need to eat lots and grow lots.


    I need to grow up well. Only then do I have any chance of escape.


    Escape where? I''ll burn that bridge when I get to it. I''m only three right now so it''s too far away.


    It''s all so very far away.


    Sniff.


    Stupid onions.


    "Yeah! Stupid veggies, meat is a lot better. Oh this thingy is good!"


    "It''s okay. Chews funny. There are onions here?"


    "I don''t know, Rosa said there was. Maybe she ate them all!"


    "But they''re all cooked? They still can''t make you cry so much like Rosa does. You should blow your nose or you can''t taste anything. Oh try this one, there are lingonberries and rice inside."


    "*noms*Good! I like that one!"


    "Is that an oxen tail? I can''t tell from smell since they''re all cooked together. "


    "I don''t know but it''s fatty and yummy!"


    I feel a twitch in my temple despite my young age. In annoyance to the sudden chatter, just the sudden appearance of my minions in training, I aim and stuff a roasted blue potato in each of their mouth holes. That should buy me at least 7 seconds of peace.


    "When did you get here?"


    "Mpff awwaw agoof Shw!"


    "....how about you chew first? Yeah just chew and then answer."


    The boys munch down, looking very much like fluffy pet hamsters or something with their cheeks full. They''ve been freshly bathed, with Gable''s herbal soaps scenting their kiddy soft skin. They''re not in any of my clothes, but Gable must have cleaned them up for the occasion, with soft linen and dark frocks, the collars embroidered with a line of something nice.


    I sure hope that means Gable is here!


    I also sure hope mother does come back around any time soon. Worst case scenario I sacrifice one or both the boys. That''s their most useless purpose at this point in time.


    "We came awhile ago! And we saw Barabara in her red dress and new fancy hubby Niki and we ate candy and we gave out more candy and we ran under the tables. Your da'' is kinda scary picking veggies with the stupid baby and I first I thought it was you in there but the baby isn''t very smart with words or red. Then we came back and ate some more. Then we hear you screaming about bad onions and so we came here and ate some more while you cried about those onions and then you attacked with a potato-"


    A special treat, Lukas you get another potato. Bigger potato. Chew on that for a minute longer, please.


    When I turn back to Amar, he''s already well stuffing his little face with the rice. Which is reasonable but at least I can get shorter answers from this one.


    "Where''s Gable? Did he drop you off for the feast?"


    Both boys with full mouths point in the same direction, towards the low setting sun. It''s getting dark as the lanterns up in the trees and posts light up romantically. Yes very good wedding decor. Not bad mother.


    "He''s with your grampa." Amar answers between nibble like bites. Slower but steadier paced in his black hole eating tendencies compared to Lukas. Yep, it''s a hamster, or a rabbit. Something like that.


    "What? Where" I squint towards the distance.


    "There." the boy point again.


    How helpful. Gee, thank you oh so much.


    Nope no Gable, I do however see my grampa making a silly fool out of himself. Somehow he irks the ire of a hunchback old man with a medium length beard, receiving the wack of his crooked cane. Even as the brave old man keeps hitting the world-renowned hero, grampa still keeps attacking.


    I think he''s trying to hug him?


    Now he''s on his knees, now he''s saying something, aaaaand he gets whacked with the cane again.


    Grampa is weird, with or without alcohol. That just may be the only truth I can rely on in this world.


    "Ohhhh darling just look at this lovely little dress they let me borrow! Ohohoho it''s so thin and spinny and ties with so many ribbons! Darling~ Frederick darling, where did you run off to now? My darlings? Papa?...."


    Okay, and my mother being scary too. Absolutely a universal fact.


    At the sound of her voice the boys and I all jump to various degrees of fright. It is then, after catching our breaths, that we all silently nod and agree on the safest plan for children our size.


    Under the table! Come on everyone, we''re bringing this feast downstairs.


    Bringing this, and that. Whatever the hell that is, sure let''s try it. Oh another of the stuffed birdies. I like those. Hey take that jug of juice from over the other table, we''re gonna need that. Some wedding candy? Can someone cut this steak smaller? My jaw is getting sore. Make it smaller. Thin but not too thin.


    Smaller I say. Smaller!

 108 Peanut shells

    ----


    "Look, look over there. That''s him, that''s the hero!"


    "He really looks like the statues?! Amazing!"


    "Cass, get over here. That''s him! It''s really him."


    A girl, no. A woman now. Past the threshold of adulthood here by barely a few years, she set down the heavy earth with a relieved sigh. The strain wearing on her, holding the force of a dugout block, the size of a small room. Wiping her sweat, she tied the bandana holding her various braids together even tighter.


    This she could do, used to get by and make the journey. Tilling up chunk after chunk of dirt and rocks. Honest labor undetected. Dirtying cores of her inner space to displace it. Dig it up and move it away. Telling the fellow migrants and farmers that power had to the earth.


    All for this.


    Almost there.


    "That''s him? The man who runs the troops?" she staggers up with a hoe, to where the locals gathered and stared in the passing distance, on their breaks in this afternoon sun.


    The older villagers share a lighthearted chuckle. At the passing youths, so spirited each year. Eager to try their chances, their luck at getting accepted in. Not all of them passed through here, let alone help with their harvests. But it was hopeful to see, to possible graze across another young diamond in the rough. You never knew.


    "Yes, that''s the man who raises the next line of heroes."


    "The one and only."


    "Don''t be all up in your heads dreaming. He''s even crazier than the stories say."


    Some oohed, some asked for tales of more, tips, and guides to use for their own.


    The woman in braids remained silent, the line to her strong brow remaining stern, focused.


    "That''s him huh. And the one next to him? With the wine red hair?"


    "Oh don''t get started on the rest of the family!"


    Even more laughter and chatter spilled forth. Both men and women gossiping in truth and tales. It was up to each person to figure out what they wanted to believe.


    A migrant farmer with his family following patted the young woman on the back. They were simple folks, not asking for more than they could afford. Where there were work and bread they would go. Their young daughter, almost marriageable age, had taken a liking to this single foreign woman, traveling so far on her own two feet.


    Poor thing.


    Her hands were still soft, nature half subservient as it was unyielding, and her strange hair oiled and silky underneath every braid. The hints of fine embroidery remaining on her clothes, that twisted and worked over their torn holes, was not a common skill.


    It wasn''t their place to pry. Everyone knew that around these parts. For there were just too many. Whatever the story, there were too many of them from seemingly all corners of the world. Who they were or whatever story they held back home, now but just another wandering hopeful.


    "It will be hard to get an audience. Hard to get in but...even harder to speak to any of them." the bearded man comforted her.


    "I''ll do it. It''s all I have to go on. Thank you for helping me this far."


    They all look on, whatever their reasons. The young, the old, the heroes, and the homemakers.


    With sharp eyes, the young woman looks on. Searching each head, each face just as she does every lead and clue. Unlike with the mounds of dirt before, dark, and rich in soil, there is a weight she cannot let go.


    -----------


    ---------


    -----


    The big fat wheels go round and round, round and round, round and round. The brand new waterwheels go round and round, poundy pound pound!~


    Good news, another successful waterwheel is spinning away. Another, someone may ask?


    Welcome to the rising Ventrella local power systems!


    "Can we eat snacks for this?" Amar raises his hand.


    "Hmmm, acceptable. Save me some." I answer to minion number one''s request.


    When minion number two decides to try throwing the kinda peanut like shells at me, I do not retract the allowance but use my staff to bump him into a collected basin of cold water below. Then take said snack break until Lukas swims himself back out.


    Salted and boiled kinda green peanuts are rather plain but simple things are good in their own way. The soft mild sweetness underneath is honestly kinda addicting, even if the soggy shells are annoying on my fingers to pop and crack. More importantly, they''re a cheap but high yielding cover crop. Wait a little longer for them to mature and roast them for some good old bar nuts. Did you know they''re actually in the legume family?


    "Yeah, your ''peanuts'' are beans. Your family really likes beans a lot."


    "....."


    "Beans are yummy?"


    Amar quietly cracks the peanuts for me as a peace offering, lest I try pushing him into the water as well. Wise move minion, you''re learning.


    "Cold cold cold, Gable says it''s not swimming weather yet!" drips the other one, paddling himself out.


    "You can still feel cold? Really?" Amar cracks another nut.


    "You get cold?" I munch, half disbelieving.


    "Yeah, I do!"


    I still doubt he actually feels cold the way normal people do. Seriously, that kid just runs around in thin layers and bare feet without even a blink. This requires more experimentation.


    After Lukas shakes himself off, a floofy dumb puppy dog of cute, it''s time to continue the inspection and tour. I have to make sure father built this all on the right track. The tag-along minions are my entourage, after all, someone has to crack and hold my snacks.


    Now then, on the advantages of water wheels. It''s essentially free energy and force! All you need is the start-up labor cost and the attachments to take advantage of it. While those may seem high at first, they''ll soon pay for themselves.


    Especially since the current standards and production value is....pretty dismal. It could be a lot worse I admit but again, I have entirely different standards. Perhaps a little...ok a lot too intense for this world.


    Human hands can only do so much. Despite all my sister, my exposure to magic, how it''s seen as the pinnacle of life, and all that is good, it doesn''t touch most of the people. The mass majority of normal humans. Yet this is what people seem to rely on. The miracle that is magic.


    A machine or device is an entirely different thing. A sustainable aid to existing human labor.


    Long term, a well built water mill can supply a lot without any needed human labor, except for the needed control and maintenance. It can run without any magic! Really, the world does not absolutely need magic to operate. People can still do things without it.


    Case in point with these water wheels. Look how the pound, press, and work all the goods of the hunt and hauls in a processed state. Meat, bones, fibrous material, cloth, the applications are seemingly endless in this world filled with raw material. No need to pull a bull to work or wait for a strong ''hero'' to pass by. No wasting time working it yourself when there are fields and other matters to tend to. There''s never enough manpower to go around so why not cut that labor and the time needed? So much potential!


    The waterwheels soon pay for themselves! Just watch.


    "What does that mean?!" raised Lukas, eyes spinning.


    "What does what mean?"


    "All of that!"


    "All of what? Be more specific on what part."


    "That!" he gestures loudly to all of me.


    How rude.


    Thankfully, one of my minions can act as a translator for the other one.


    "Water goes round and boom boom," Amar points to the various parts of processing mill mechanisms, with Lukas bright eyes actually following in comprehension. "Rosalia and her papa spent lots of gold on all this. It goes boom boom or chop chop and stuff by changing those parts. Everyone can play so they''re happy because it doesn''t need any magic or for you to even be strong. Rosa''s family spent lots because it''s a big game and they''re the house dealer. Like the troops'' adults betting money. Rosa loves winning big gold."


    "Ooooooooh Rosa why didn''t you just say that earlier!? You talk too much silly stuff! Just say you like money!"


    "....my bad." I apologize.


    Just how bad is everyone''s impression of me?


    Let''s not expect too much from a 6-year-old, let alone one like Lukas. I got carried away there in excitement. Let''s just inspect the wheelhouse and move along.


    There were multiple designs to test out to find the best and most productive model for the terrain.


    The problem with most basic vertical free water wheels is that they''re kinda just placed into a source of running water, letting it run the bottom of the wheel. Honestly really ineffective unless placed in a strong rushing river. This is why it''s been so unpopular with the locals around this calm area compared to beast pulled stone grinders or horizontal wheels. Which is also ineffective compared to modern electrical turbines despite the similar concepts.


    We have streams yes but nothing particularly intense, especially as the coastline isn''t all that far away. The waterways evening out to marshes or just smoothly running into the ocean.


    "What she saying now?"


    "Um...whoosh whoosh is pretty bad"


    When I turn around, Amar is spinning himself in circles, arms splayed out. It looks so much like a children''s game as Lukas starts half spinning along with his head. The tiny boy brakes and points back to the wheel outside, finger following the turning.


    "Sideways whoosh whoosh better, see. But still not the best. The water is too weak to push it normally. But that," he points up high above the overshot. At the manmade directed channels and pumps pushing both the advantages of water force and gravity into a backshot wheel and supporting flywheels to turn all the belts and gears at the multiplied power, it''s currently producing. "That''s the best. I think?"


    "Oooooooh! Geez Rosa you''re so bad at explaining things."


    "...."


    Shutting up now. No more unconscious rambling, I swear.


    Right, that''s the normal problem with just placing a plain wheel or turbine into a flat body of water.


    However, a few little modern tweaks really up the efficiency. I''m no ''waterwheel'' expert but uh, I guess modern inventions really do stand upon the progress of centuries of progress.


    Just a few things that stuck around in my own research or hearing my younger brother ramble on as he worked and customized. A lot of wheelchairs in the market were ridiculously expensive. It was a lot better to buy the parts and play with it himself. After all, those were his legs and way of getting around in the world. He couldn''t just accept what people said he should settle for.


    He was a bright boy, no matter what life threw at him. Always made me proud. Always.


    That boy ...is going to be fine. Even in a world without me. He''s stubborn like that.


    They will all be fine.


    I bite down and move on, refusing to be shaken. There are things to do, inspections to see. A lot of people won''t be all that fine if Rosalia''s memories are to be believed. Famine and need, never enough hands to go around in the labor shortages. Unruly mercenaries and disillusioned adventurers dreaming to strike it big.


    Everyone hoping for a miracle to bless their lives. Like a magic spell. One-touch from the great hero or his blessed granddaughter and their ails all solved. All hollow hopes. The world falling like loose earth over a sinkhole when it fails to deliver.


    People are pathetic.


    As man good individuals there are out there, there''s an infinite more amount of mediocre trash. Not all recyclable.


    Not everyone is willing to take the real steps the better themselves and their lives. Not everyone is sincere, or can afford to be,


    So many people came to these lands to seek their fortunes and yet there were never enough hands to go around with the work. How funny. As if they''re all too good. As if it was all my fault when things don''t go their way.


    When the lands failed to produce enough. Or when diseases spread. OR their adventures laid to waste Instead of blaming themselves, it''s easier to point their fingers to something darker at play.


    Perhaps a witch? Perhaps a cursed child?


    Someone who shouldn''t have been born in the first place.


    "Whoa, Rosa where are you going so fast!? Is there anything fun over there?" minion number one quickly follows behind, occasionally sticking his head in places they don''t belong.


    "Hmmm, maybe she saw money? If someone throws it, she runs much faster." hops minion number two, still nibbling on a bag of nuts.


    "Oh yeeeeeaaaaah. She''s like a grown-up that way, kookoo over money."


    "Um, I don''t know if that''s a grownup thing?"


    "Uh huh it is! All of them do it. They grab for money like fishies when we throw food. Like it''s even yummier than meat! It''s super dumb and funny!"


    "Oh. Ok. Grown-ups do that."


    "Yeah! So silly. They chase money and they lie lots! WHOA-!"


    I turn around just in time to watch Lukas trip and fall from a conveyer belt that the boys were recklessly climbing up. Instead of the proper rails. Really quite an avoidable incident. Back into the water, he goes. Today is just not his day.


    Somehow though Lukas falls conveniently down through the wrought gaps of one of the flywheels, landing center of the rotating wheel. The speedy momentum of the turning wheel forcing the child to keep moving less he fumble and fall.


    It''s a human hamster wheel! How amusing.


    "Oops. It''s slippery?" mutters Amar, still munching while balancing himself down to the rails.


    "Heeeeeeey! How do you stop this thing!!!" screams the human hamster from down below. Round and round he goes. When he''ll stop, no one knows.


    "You can''t. The wheels are all attached and the system keeps going." I yell down.


    "Then how do I get off!?!!"


    "Swim."


    "Try jumping?"


    "You''re all bad at ideas!!!"


    I take a seat, dangling my short little legs, and a salty handful of offered peanuts. Because at this point I just might as well. At least until Lukas figures out how to get back up without icing it. He really should not. We''re in public and Gable''s going to have more than homework for him if he does it again so recklessly.


    This is also just a nice vantage point of the wheelhouse, up high with a view of part of the village and some surrounding fields. Most of the sections brown and upturned in preparation for spring planting if not already pressed and sowed. Loads of people from the villagers, migrant workers and even the occasional bored troop member down there working the land. The running water trickling down into their irrigated streams in a lazy way. The breeze blowing lightly, trees and flowers blooming back to life.


    How distracting.


    This entire world is one big distraction. From the seemingly simple idyllic landscapes to the kiddy minions that really came from out of nowhere. This life is confusing, but there''s really no one right way to go about it.


    This really wasn''t what I meant all those times I cried that I needed a vacation.


    From up here, I can see my father and grampa quite easily. A head of dark red standing out like a poppy flower in fields of brown and greens, making him easy to spot if grampa''s profile and presence weren''t so recognizable himself. They''re being nerds down there, figuring out how to improve the wheelhouse with more cranks and pulleys. Where to dig another irrigation system, or how it even works.


    It''s like the road work project all over again. Stuff that makes my head spin or knock out in a nap. Grampa''s unexpected and innovative engineering expertise combined with father''s drafts, plans and logistics. They''re a really odd pair that work well together on things like this.


    Well, the Ventrella menfolk have to be good for something I suppose. Bothering with all the little things that all work into something big.


    It''s better than waiting around for a miracle to happen.


    Better than being a good for nothing sort of man.


    "Did you want to go back?"


    The sudden question has me choking on a peanut, something the makes Amar pat my back uselessly. Like that does anything.


    "Did you want to go back down to Cap'' and your papa?" he asks, "You were staring again."


    "Bleh, ack no. No no no. I was just thinking about how weird they are." I cough out.


    Ah yes yes yes of course, that''s what he means. Silly me for inhaling peanuts so fast I choke.


    "Oh. Are they really weird?"


    "Of course they are. I promise you, there''s really no other wackos like them around. Just look at them. I can''t believe grampa''s actually a nerd too. Makes sense, crazy people sometimes get famous like that."


    "I don''t know that word either...but ok."


    "Which one? Nerd? It means someone who can''t follow social rules because they''re too obsessed about learning something or making stuff. Like those two down there." I wave down to where the men of my family are discussing and tinkering with some craftsmen.


    From somewhere more directly below Lukas is still screaming, somewhat out of breath.


    "Can I stop running now!!!"


    I throw my peanut shells down at the kid. If he trips and dives into the water finally, well that''s not exactly my fault. Oh look there he goes. Now, who will I throw peanut shells at?


    "And he''s gone."


    "We should go help him."


    I throw them Amar''s head in response to that. He sounds oh so nice as if he wasn''t probably responsible for Lukas slipping in the first place. The little liar. I will let it go for Lukas also essentially called me a greedy money grabber.


    "No....let him drown first."


    "There''s nothing bad down underwater right? No claws or shredding thing that spin lots? Or qanats and tunnels to fall in?" he hangs from his knees, looking upside down.


    "What? Claws? Why in the world would there be tunnels down there? It''s a basin pool."


    "I don''t know. It''s water?"


    "Right it''s water from the river streams. So where do underwater tunnels come in?"


    "I don''t know. Ok then. No tunnels."


    Does he mean like the tunnels underneath my house? Hmm, that could be it.


    Grampa is a little obsessed with digging and digging training. Says it''s good at working all parts of the body as well as building mental strength. Honestly, I just think he likes making people suffer for his building foundations. Maybe he can get a sewer grid built off the pure ''digging training'' he forces the unlucky troop members through.


    It''s free labor?


    "Rosa."


    He takes away the snacks right out of my hands, getting my attention as he puts them away in my bag impudently. Then throws his shoes in? What? Warning bells of danger going off in my head as he gives me an apologetic smile.


    "Take a big breath and pinch your nose. Try not to scream."


    "What-"


    "You can''t kill me wheelies!!!"


    Out of nowhere I feel the world shake and lift us up from our dangling seats. The pull and give of a familiar launching motion. It''s can''t be but it feels like Lukas, it sounds like Lukas-


    "Hi, Lukas. Rosa, you really should hold your nose now." Amar warns, time seemingly slowing down just as Lukas throws the both of us over.


    Then it''s nothing but open air.


    Well shit.


    I manage to gasp and hold my breath on the way down, the sound of another''s cannonball splashing registers for a split second before I violently break through the surface myself. A horrible shock of cold, almost painful pops of white air bubbles all around me. My slighting stinging eyes see the world in a fishbowl blue. The basin lined and bounded with large slabs of river stones over to resemble just that.


    Before I could get my bearings, or even settle my drop weight to float back up, a force tugs and pulls me a certain way. Those white bubbles still blurring my vision as the panic over the lack of air shocks me just as much as the chilly water. I see micro bubbles clinging and popping through dark hair floating around. When Amar kicks back, it''s with a strong force and conveniently bare little toes. Between the rushing white of the waterwheels running up above and the purposeful movement of steady swimming, I slowly feel myself calm down. After all, I have great practice holding my breath after three years of surviving my own mother.


    Wow, what training.


    The child tugging me turns to point to a shadowy tunnel in the far corner, mischievously smiling even with his cheeks puffed with air.


    Well, what do you know, a tunnel. Great. It''s also an awful idea to go towards that and not just say straight up?!


    But the kid either turns back too quickly to not see my frantic head shakes or he just doesn''t care enough, propelling us to swim along to that edge and through the modest-sized hole. If I wasn''t conserving oxygen I would have screamed.


    When Amar forcibly pushes me over and up, back to the surface world, I almost do. After filling my poor little lungs of course. Ahhh that was messed up. It really isn''t swimming weather at all. Worst minions ever.


    "What the h-"


    "Ssssshhh. Want to hear something funny?"


    The tunnel, probably a sort of waterway, lead us somewhere back into the mill. The wheels still rushing outside like a fountain waterfall. Up above where Amar points, I can see through the railing gaps up to where we were sitting previously.


    I see, so this is how Lukas snuck up to attack earlier! But where did that brat go now?


    "Come on." brat number two leads.


    Ah cold cold cold, it was actually warmer in the water than open air! But alas I''m dragged out not into warm sunshine or a toasty fire, but a literal hole in the wall, or whatever this is. I don''t have to worry about dripping water because the entire floor is flooded to my knees!


    "Ah sorry. You''re really just small."


    I kick water at the smart-aleck before he lifts and plops me up on a dry wooden crate. As I quickly rummage my bag for towels, a wailing scream of death and defeat sounds out from the railings, descending to the stairs. It is not the sound of Lukas that has me pressed against the wall, cowering under the towel.


    Nevermind my earlier complaints, this is a great hiding spot. Super safe.


    "You poor little darling thing! There there now, let''s get you into a hot bath."


    Mother descends those steps like an out of place spring goddess, blessing this common space with a bright graceful smile. The shivering pale child in her arms nestled safely in her ample bosom, softly bouncing with each step.


    Oh good, I''m glad he can breathe in that position.


    The indigo and vegetable mixed chrome dyes pale rather than a costlier rich on her dress but flutters refreshingly this season. She looks as calm and peaceful as the madonna. After a careful winter indoors her skin is much closer to a high fashion porcelain pale that all well to do ladies strive for, yet it still can''t diminish her golden complexion and warm undertones.


    Ah, what a waste.


    In another world, many people would dump literal fortunes to get her natural Mediterranean glow or even a sailor''s dark tan. Often even spraying it on, at risk of looking like an Oompa Loompa.


    Fashion and beauty standards are really fascinating concepts.


    In the far future, will Lilyanne still retain her sickly pale parlor as she did in the original''s memories? It''s pretty hard to do so with our parents'' warm undertones. Extremely unhealthy now that I look back on it.


    Health first!


    Looking at mother now, dressed lightly with a bounce to her step, as if she had glided out of a beloved painting, reminds me a little too much of that Lilyanne.


    She looks better though, a lot stronger. Full of more color and life than I can recall for either mother or daughter. Brown tresses dripping honey under accessories of gold, lips, and cheeks blushing peach pink.


    Any bystander bows low, at the very least with their necks bare in offering to her passing. A few brave or perhaps scrupulous souls peek up and as she passes despite their humble appearances. Some part of me itches to reach into my bag for a practice staff, well versed in the art of smacking.


    "Buttercup, there really is no need for that." a strange bearded man steps right behind.


    As he follows my mother, those smackable bystanders seem to suddenly fall down much lower, as if pressed by a sudden force of gravity. His appearance though was so commonly plain that it''s forgettable, looking to me like a generic blur at this distance.


    His low silken voice, however, was unmistakable.


    "Oh of course I do Gabbey! You have that miffed look in your beautiful eyes."


    "...it''s not swimming weather."


    Gable! Oh, he''s in disguise. How disappointing to hide such gorgeousness. But he must have his reasons for staying low on the radar. What a powerful illusion he''s cast, to hide so much beauty into this easily forgettable one.


    It makes one wonder how many other disguises he has. You''ll never know when he''s around! Never. After all, grampa always had trouble chasing after him before in the strange long term game of hide and seek. I hope Gable always wins.


    Obviously he purposely revealed himself to mother today. Maybe to pick up Lukas? That''s the only way. Yes.


    "Oh I knew it. Oh, you mustn''t punish the little one over just that. It feels like a lifetime ago but don''t think I don''t remember what that''s like back then. Oh just look at him. He''s suffering so much with the shivers!"


    "It....really does. I don''t know what you''re talking about when I''ve always spoiled you... but none of that. The boy will be fine Maria dear. His constitution is...favorable. Now if you would just, hand him over..."


    "There there now, oh my what a healthy child you are! It''s almost like carrying both of my girls before they could runoff."


    "Maria?"


    "I''ll save you from Gabbey. Oh yes I know how grumpy he gets sometimes, here''s my trick. Trap him in a room with papa and all will be better in about half a day. Oh you''re just so squishy!"


    "Buttercup!!? Lukas don''t repeat that! "


    "Not handing him over! Oh maybe I should take my own advice? Darling has been so absent in his head lately, boo hoo hoo. And my little ones have been taking up so many nights in the bed, which I do love but oh, it''s so hard when darling gets busy and distracted....I hear it''s normal to expect that more and more in a marriage."


    "...I''m sure that''s not the case my blossom. But if he continues to upset you I''ll turn him into a-"


    "Oh Gabbey, that''s why I''m trying what the older ladies advise over tea. They say if just get a younger man undressed in my arms then all will be solved! Oh I can''t wait. Now lets clean you up now little one!"


    There are no peanuts and yet I still choke, Amar still uselessly patting my back till I stop.


    Mother...I don''t think Lukas, or any child, is what those ladies meant.


    But this is not the time to tell her that. Goodbye Lukas. Sacrificed to the great mother, as is his greatest purpose.


    "We''re not helping him." I warn.


    "Uh huh." nods the remaining minion, agreeing with keeping his life.


    "Is the coast clear? Let''s get out of here."


    "Um, do mean clear of your mama or the funny guards?"


    "...Both."


    "Okay. Wait a little more, and follow me. Cover your head? Your hair makes it too easy."


    "Lies. It does not."


    "Uh-huh it does. Red is really easy to see?"


    "It''s is not red!"


    "They find you from the yelling too." he pats my head over the wet towel.


    Shutting up now. Now that I can believe. Oh when oh when will I ever solve the pesky issues of these so-called secret guards? Can I at least get them to come out and make themselves known? I know my father is their current employer but eventually, they''ll fall into my hands too. I should be their boss, not their subject!


    After a few minutes of necessary drying, changing, and just returning Amar''s shoes, it''s up the railings and rafters. Mission impossible training! For me at least. This brat is much quieter and hidden than Lukas. An entirely different style, slowly finding gaps and child size piping to crawl and hop to eventual freedom.


    Or that was the plan.


    "We lost."


    Amar announces it mid crawl in a vent, with such blankness that it confuses me. He sounds unfazed if not for the slight sigh that follows and an annoyed ruffle of his hair, the water from before turning it espresso dark before it fully dries.


    I immediately check my own strands under the towel blanket. Yep, still very much sun-damaged and colored. How disappointing.


    "What do you mean we lost? You really think everything is a game, don''t you? Did the guards found us anyways?"


    "No. "


    "Then how?"


    "I think they went and tattled? Look down."


    Oh. Ohhhh red really is easy to spot. Good thing my hair isn''t as awful as father''s. He can''t see me in this vent right?


    "Puuuuuumpin! Are you having fun climbing the bars!" waves grampa, catching my shock and attention. I mean sure he''s a little bit ff to the left but how? It''s so close!


    "You should jump down? We already lost."


    "Sssssshhhh, no. No they haven''t found us just yet."


    Playing them from up above is also amusing in its own ways. Sssshhh don''t give me away so easily Amar. Huh, why does father have one of his silly guns out? Where is he aiming that?


    "You''re right. Bye Rosa. Thanks for the peanuts."


    The grate under me makes a creaking sound as it slides, tipping me down like a flipping trash can. It happened so fast I don''t get the chance to even scream in surprise.


    After all the traumatic throws and drops I''ve been through in my short life, this distance practically nothing to me. Still, I was expecting a more painful impact. It''s painful right, but in an entirely different way.


    "Found you!" exclaims grampa at the same time a whooshing gunshot goes off.


    I''d like to say he faithfully caught me in his strong arms, like a real hero. But it was more of me bouncing right into his well trained pectoral muscles. What a landing.


    "Chip? You''re soaking wet." father grimaces as he pet inspects everything from my hair to my butt. Eeeck, how rude! Wait, can we talk about the gunshot? Seriously?


    I really have lost. I''m back alright. Back and trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, aka the menfolk of this unfortunate family. It''s awful.


    Ack, there''s really no need to check over me like that? I''m not one of the specimens up for dissection!


    Crazy old man stop laughing and making fun of me! You, nerd, stop fussing and explain the wasted gunshots. Just go back to doing nerd stuff, the both of you!


    Grampa stop inspecting my hair! No, no it does not match, no! It''s not getting worse. I refuse!

 109 Too early for brunch

    It''s dark.


    All around me is dark. Foggy even. I don''t know where I am or how I got here.


    "Are you having fun?"


    No matter what direction I turn, I can''t see anyone or anything. The voice is all around me. An invisible PA system, surround sound. I know shit. Something like this can''t scare me.


    Each step I take feels off-balanced, heavy as if I was walking through thick sand.


    "Are you having fun, Rosalia?"


    "....old man?"


    The dark ceiling above me booms. Cracks of lightning and thunder roaring through. Bad effects. All just bad special effects.


    In the dark there''s no sense of direction here. The fog doesn''t go away, even as those bad effects start pouring down, a sprinkler system like rain. When the world lights and crackles, it somehow reveals nothing but flashes of black.


    "What the hell!?"


    My voice is drowned out by the clatter of rain and thunder. More importantly, the ground below me turns to something awful and mushy. The grains of sand creating a disgusting sensation as my feet sink down.


    I can step out of it, I can even run, but the floor feels like putty. Stay too long and my weight is too much. Too much and I sink. It''s slick and uneven, making me lose my balance as a particularly loud crack surprises me. It feels disgusting on my palms, my skin, and I sink further.


    How frustrating.


    "Where the hell am I?!!"


    Grains of sand and putty stick to me despite the downpour. Despite the rain that does nothing to wash it away. It doesn''t feel as cold as it should be, but that could be because my own body was as cold as ice.


    A mocking chuckle rumbles, that scarily good surround sound system working at full capacity.


    "Does it matter?"


    "God damn it!!!" I scream, more than annoyed at the filth.


    Another awkward tumble has me tasting grit and sand. The pull has my limbs heavy, exhausted.


    "Are you having fun?"


    "Of fucking course not!"


    "But it looks so fun?"


    In the flashes of light crackling overhead, the lumps of mud spiral and take crude shapes. Monsterous growths, the form of human torsos, of faceless heads. Some with too-long arms, too large hands. They reach for me, threatening to bury me in the weight of wet sand.


    I hold my breath as a wave of that shit passes over, hitting me with the motions of the ocean. Pressing on me with the pressure of the earth. I don''t dare open my eyes down here.


    I feel like a small child again. One who lost my footing at the beach, helpless for a too-long moment as the waves assault me. Pulling me away from the shore. All that but worse. It feels like I''m being buried alive.


    There''s sand in my ears but the voice is still too damn clear.


    "It looks so fun? A big house. A mother. A father. Even a cute baby sister. Everything is so peaceful. Playing house, getting all your simple little wishes fulfilled. What a happy life."


    I force myself limp, letting the waves push me wherever it sees fit, conserving strength. It feels nothing like the soothing waters of the ocean. The sand gritting, the weight immense. But I wait, wait for my chance to escape.


    "Isn''t it all just...so warm?"


    My lungs burn. The only heat I can fell. Something much deeper inside me burns, it rages despite the cold numb of my body.


    "Isn''t it time to rest? You deserve it. Take a rest."


    There! Now! I force myself up, grasping on something solid. It burns and there''s definitely sand in my mouth as I gasp for breath. Raising myself step by exhausting step. There''s sand in my lungs, my guts, and it''s so god damn heavy.


    "Wouldn''t it just be easier?"


    My eyes are crusted as if from a deep sleep, I probably lose a few eyelashes prying them open. There''s little point because it''s dark, dark and just god damn fucking dark. The solid walls of black closing in on me.


    Looking straight up at my only source of light, even if it''s pure lighting and storm clouds, the light looks like a box. The rain turning solid, into more and more wet sand.


    It''s a grave. It''s a grave and I''m being buried.


    "Just like before. Just like how it was before. When everyone was happy."


    The voice booms like a god, as terrifying as it was comforting. The rains of wet earth burying me further each step I climb from quicksand.


    "Fuck you!" I scream up, though I choke on each breath. "Fuck this! Fuck you! Go stuff yourself back up your own god damn ass then burn in hell in there!"


    "...You''re a bitter one...ain''tcha?"


    I let out a laugh as dark and raspy as the heavy earth trying to bury me. A laugh as much as whooping cough. Lighting flashes and I get the feeling I''ve watched this scene before. In a movie maybe, a scene played out again and again. Of a haggard old witch, an evil queen, any villain really, right before their fatal fall.


    "What am I supposed to do then? Huh?! So I just die quietly? Conveniently? Is that it?! Do I just fall and cry and cry waiting for someone to save me?! Not gonna happen!"


    Rain falls like mud, sludge, running down and all over me. It''s barely that I note how it runs and falls over my body, long and dripping. The body of an adult.


    "Newsflash! You failed on that part! You failed! You couldn''t save shit you crazy old man! You left and you didn''t save shit. Not me! Not Lilyanne! No one lives ok?! This story fucking sucks!"


    Thunder rumbles like a cruel laughter.


    I stumble and slide. My nails feel like they''re being rubbed raw down to the flesh. Desperate to hang on.


    "Isn''t it so fun? Playing. As if you had a place here, a chance, in the first place?"


    "I''m not playing shit."


    "Isn''t it a nice dream?"


    "Damn it you shitty old man!"


    "Isn''t it fun Rosalia? Pretending like you were ever loved. Even just for a little bit. As if anyone ever cared. As if you ever mattered because how the hell could you? How could anyone ever look at you when she''s right there?"


    "Shut it. Shut up shut up shut up! You''re not him, you''re-"


    "The real one? Does it matter? I''ve always been real, always. Everyone is the same, everyone but you. Tell me child, who is it that you died for? Who is it the world will have you die for, again and again, no matter what? Who is it that really matters?"


    "Shut the fuck up!"


    "Who is the only one that matters?"


    I scream myself hoarse. Curse out filth just as much as it rains on me. At the same time, I climb, crawling up the mushy sand. If nothing but pure spite keeps me going, the deep low burning my blood to a boil, pounding in my ears, and pooling below my stomach.


    "Who was that?"


    "Fuck off! I know already! I know the answer you want, it''s Lily the fucking Anne. Perfect Lilyanne Hell mother of Ventrella! God damn it I know, so what? Do I just take it lying down? Do I just die, again?! As her doormat! I''m using her you god damn crazy old man. I''m using all of you!"


    "You love them. Once. You loved me, once."


    "Ahahahaha! Jokes on you! I''m not even Rosalia! You can''t pull that type of shit off on me. Not like you did her. I do whatever the hell I want! Whatever the damn hell I can get!"


    It''s deafening, the world is deafening. If it goes silent, as if it could, I don''t notice it. It''s all a ringing noise that can''t match the roaring of my own rushing blood. If it hurts, if I''m bleeding from my hands, anywhere, there''s no way I can tell. I can''t feel it.


    It doesn''t hurt me.


    "Then don''t look down my girl." the voice chuckles, the clapping of light blinding me. Reverse psychology working in tandem with the instinctive nerve to look away from the lighting.


    At the bottom lies a person, broken, half buried.


    It''s not me.


    My eyes adjust to the light against my will and I swear it''s not me. That''s not Rosalia at any age, not the hair, the face, she''s-


    Oh god....it is me. That''s me! But how? How?!


    The walls collapse to my silent scream because really, this was never a fair game in the first place.


    -------------------


    -----------


    ------


    "Bluuuuurg"


    The bathroom door slams open. The possibly hungover young woman making it to the toilet safely once again, emptying her stomach of any excess alcohol. Which was honestly, a lot. She wretched, flushed, pushed herself up to the sink to gulp down the running water, then smoothly fell to the floor to puke it out all over again. Obviously she had done this many times before, her motions while pained was well-practiced. An art in coping with too early hangovers.


    From the dark, shadowy large hands reached out, landing themselves through her hair.


    The sensation causes her to turn and start screaming.


    "Ahhh ssssshhhhh too loud. Waaaaaaay too loud Mengy. Owwww fuck I was just holding your hair back!"


    "God damn it. You scared the hell out of me Niles. I thought it was one of Jung-Joon''s horror movies come to life. "


    "You scared me, bitch! Have you looked in the mirror? Here I was, chilling with my cereal-"


    "It''s...god damn 4am, and you''re eating cereal in the bathtub?!


    "So there I was, not bothering anyone in the middle of the night. Anyone! With my cereal, in the tub, when this drunk comes stumbling in to throw up her guts and mess up my vibe."


    "Dude, how drunk are you still? Is that a casserole dish? How did you even get cereal in here?"


    "Pretty damn drunk and I have no idea. None. I''m empty. You gonna finish and you just gonna keep talking barf mouth?"


    "...."


    When Meng turns back around, still on her knees, her friend does his best to reach over. Holding her hair out the way until she finished retching, bile, and all. After the 3rd flush, she resists the urge to pass out right there and then to at least clean herself up and turn on the fan.


    "Yo Meng."


    "What?"


    "Check me out."


    He slides up his shirt with still balancing the oversized bowl of cereal, his free hand moving a little sultry and a lot too clumsily dramatic, an effect of the party and alcohol a few hours before. Ebony skin and dark lines of hard-earned abs contrasting sharply against the porcelain tub.


    "Is my kidney still there? Like do I have some surgical sutures? Any sign of black market organ harvesting?"


    She falls down to near fatally hit him in the guts.


    "Ouch! The heeeeeeelll? This is the thanks I get? What if you got the illegal hole in my stomach? I feel so violated." he cries, actually tearing up.


    "Good news Niles. You have two kidneys so if someone actually stole one, you still got the other." the girl pats, crawling over to sit diagonally over the tub. Taking little to no mind in crushing the much larger still half-drunk guy underneath her. She even made grabby hands at the oversized dish of cereal.


    "This is my only spoon you greedy hoe." he slaps those hands away/


    "What''s that you got over there then?" she points, her ankle pressing into his stomach.


    ".....My supersized spoon."


    "That''s a soup ladle you nincompoop. Hand it over."


    "I''m telling J.J. you assaulted defenseless poor me. Assaulted!"


    Meng hits him in the hand with the spoon she pries off, settling herself as comfortably as possible. For once, it''s silent, with only the sound of sugary cereal crunching and spoons clanking as the two ate out of the giant dish.


    "There''s like a tub of ice cream dumped in here isn''t there?"


    "So there I was, minding my own goddamn business in the tub with my cereal when a married drunk woman comes crashing in-"


    "I got it, I got it."


    She shovels the disaster of ice cream cereal into her mouth, enjoying the relief to her bitter throat. The sugar sobering up her throbbing head.


    "So. You want to talk about it? Or just eat all my cereal?"


    She considers it, deciding that was fair. That or the alcohol, her nerves, were loose, frazzled.


    "....Bad trip my man. Like....like I had a nightmare but...when I woke up, I don''t remember shit."


    "Shit happens."


    "Yeah."


    He offers her the bigger soup ladle and they make the switch, going back to crunching and munching. Because sometimes that''s all you need, more than any wise words of advice. A friend. A shoulder to lean on and maybe an unholy sundae in a casserole dish at 4am in someone else''s bathtub.


    Meng lets the sweet spoonful rest against the roof of her mouth, swallowing down the trembling. The unknown feelings from the fear, the absurdity of it all, and even urge to cry in sweet relief. She doesn''t know what to make of it so she doesn''t. Doesn''t think.


    It was messed up but it was enough. This was enough for the moment. Even if the door creaks.


    "Well....I see this one is occupied."


    "Oh dang what are we eating?"


    Two teens stand at the restroom door. One of them already trying to walk away if not for the ponytailed girl pulling him in.


    "I just wanted to clean up and sleep." he complains, getting piled into the tub. The younger girl climbing easily to half cuddle against Meng, reaching over for the ice cream mess.


    "Bad night?" she asks, getting spoon-fed by Niles. "Mmmm peanut butter!"


    "Something like that." Meng replies, feeling oddly comfortable like this.


    "I like your spiders taking over your face look." another figure comes from the doorway, slurping up instant cup noodles.


    "Thank you." Meng sighs, not even bothering to try wiping her face any further.


    "Dude take a seat and pass the noodles."


    "What are we doing all in the bathroom in the first place?!"


    "Okay so there I was, minding my own business in the tub when Mengy here comes in looking like the ring ghost and-"


    "No one told me there was an afterparty in this bathroom?" someone else shuffles in, looking sleepy.


    "Can I ever finish my story, tonight?!"


    Meng can''t help it. She laughs, hoarse and low, her throat still scratchy and burning. There''s a mess, an unsettled feeling in her veins and guts. The nightmare forgotten but not gone somewhere inside her, but this was fine. She woke up sick but not exactly alone, even if it was just a bunch of silly drunks in the tub.


    "Meng? What''s going on here?"


    "Jung-Joon? Weren''t you sleeping?"


    "Hmmmm I was, but then you went away."


    The bathroom half reacts in tired groans and greetings. It was too early to watch this shit.


    "Sup."


    "Oh no not more people."


    "Eeeeyyyyy JJ! I need you to know I was assaulted first. "


    "Can you bring more ice cream?"


    "Or ramen?"


    When a yawning moon-eyed boy finds her, finds them all, partly hungover and laughing over cereal in a bathtub full of too many people, he can''t help it either. Can''t help but soften at the sight. Can''t help but want to join them, crazy as it looked. So he does.


    Even if it was 4am.


    "Holy fuck- what are you all doing in my bathroom?!"


    ---------------------------------


    -----------------------


    ------------------------


    I am a simple girl.


    When the day is good I eat well. When it''s not I eat something else.


    If I wake up heart racing and shaken at 4am, for not a single good reason, well obviously it''s time to abandon Lilyanne and find an early breakfast. Seriously, no good reason at all. Oooo what''s a big bad scary dream going to do to me? Pffft, try real life, now that''s a real nightmare.


    I''m Rosalia Ventrella and thus I do what I want. Who cares if we''re not at home. So long as it''s not mother''s scary arms or father''s boarded up windows and doorways blocking me.


    I go with my mood and the seasons. Enjoying the ripest bounty of what nature offers each month, what is meant to be eaten when. Whatever is available.


    Unfortunately, I am a girl. Thus I crave. I crrrraaaaaaaave.


    Ramen, sweet sake, corn tamales, smooth tequila, banh mi, chilled beer, artificially addictive chips, neon slushie margaritas with silly straws. Ice cream and cereal.


    I still remember that time I did it all in one night. Ah big tummy ache the next day, or was that a hangover? Both? Good times good times.


    All of those things and much more are immediately crossed off from my menu, not just due to the drinking age. For one they don''t exist!


    What is pub crawling?! Culinary delights? Late-night happy hours? Nope!


    Maybe taverns? Or osterie as they''re called. You would think there would be more bar options in the places around a military encampment.


    What we do have, however, is an overflowing amount of wine. The wine shops, or fraschettes, more likely to be seen in any town or city. Dry, semi dry, sweet, bold, full, sour, we have them all and more. If bread is the flesh of the people then wine must be the blood. Even when waves of famine, disease, troubled times laps on the shores like waves, the natural grains distilled into neutral spirits. The fields, the orchards of grapes, cherries, pit seeded high sugar fruits must be gathered and pressed into good wine.


    Rich or poor, every man''s daily table is blessed with wine as they are salt, oil, or bread. Wine isn''t so much a luxury like I knew it in another world, but a necessary life staple.


    Contrary to all this alcohol, this isn''t a country of drunks. Straight or diluted, even mixed with vinegar as many old people prefer, it''s enjoyed at near every meal and even used as medicine. Beyond the household tables and basements, it''s a lucrative business that greatly supports industries of people. From the common field labor that picks and crushes juices, the craftsmen pouring over the large equipment and little packaging details, to the well dressed traveling market sellers who bring the final upsale profits back home.


    They can''t sell all the wine, given there are various grades, nor would the people want to. There''s little need for too many pubs when every place, even a peasant tenant''s humble little home, is stocked well with runoff concentrates of the stuff or homemade jugs of brandy, liquor, and mead. If you can grow it, it''s wine worthy. Wine is for everyone.


    This blazing sun, the land, it gives these fruits. What we make of it is our own choice and labor. If there''s one thing that I can admit grampa does right, it''s spreading the love and knowledge of good wine.


    I just can''t taste any!


    "Drink your milk princess." Tamera keeps dunking her morning bread into a hot thick honey wine.


    It''s time for a second, much heavier, breakfast again.


    Today my instructor from hell has not only tracked me down out whichever village farm I''ve been kidnapped to, but proceeded to run me to the ground, much to my grampa''s approval.


    Seriously he just threw me out the window this early morning after he caught me prowling. Straight into Tamera''s working arm, yelling at me to get fresh air and have fun? I don''t know if it was a good or bad thing that my parents weren''t immediately around to witness that. This guest hall was 4 stories high! Crazy old man.


    I haven''t been slacking, especially with the brats to keep up with, but ow ow ow. Buff baby, strong, baby, gonna be a badass little girl. Ow.


    Somehow though the ever tough Tamera has immobilized her handsomely muscular arm But from what? A great big beast? Too many battles? A careless hunt that has left her incapacitated the short remainder of the season monster wave.


    "That too but naaaaah I almost won last night''s arm wrestling brawl. Almost. Damn, maybe I should get back to drinking kiddy milk too." she sighs, chugging a much more liquid fruity wine.


    While Yuna isn''t as crazy about it, he occasionally does so with the wine dipping too, underaged as he is. But 13 is much more appropriate than 3 in any world, let alone this one. If Vincent was conscious at the table, perhaps he''d be boozing it up as well. Something about him always looks like he needs a few drinks, or 10 year nap...hooked up to IVs.


    They came too. Or got dragged by Tamera? Meh same thing. I don''t know much of these deliveries and pick up excuse is valid.


    As strange as it is to me, this is a very common way to breakfast among the people. It''s not just grampa being a stubborn drunk when he dips leftover bread or doughnuts with honeyed wine first thing in the morning. Practically everyone does it as if it were another world''s coffee and doughnuts.


    It''s so weird. I just want one little taste to confirm it. It''s probably sour or something. Fresh clean milk probably tastes better. Just one little.....chuggy.


    "It''s really sour. Milk does taste a lot better." Amar sticks out his tongue as he spreads a sticky fig preserve and goat cheese on a slice of soft bread.


    "Yeah! Waaaaay better!" Lukas agrees, chugging down his cup with a milk mustache.


    Children! All of you are simply nothing children! Why are you even here anyway?! Go back to drinking your kiddy milk!


    "I just did! More milk please!"


    "But you''re even smaller Rosa? You should have some strawberries, it''s a yummier sour. Here Lukas." Amar pushes the respective items over at each one of us. More milk for Lukas, tiny dwarf strawberries for me.


    I feel the snickering looks at us tiny ones. There''s probably a joke going on over my head but I''m busy moping to think too hard about it.


    As Rosalia, I am certainly feeling the lack of variety on the children''s menu. Kids'' tastebuds are simple, a little more than fatty, and overall just safe.


    Then there are just limited options in the analog oddly medieval world. Milk, fruit, bread, maybe some sliced lard, more milk, fruit, bread, and so on. Sometimes there''s variation but it''s all a general rotation based on that, especially during second breakfast, before lunch is out. I should just be glad there''s no smelly fish or shrimp paste today. Fish is also a common sight, especially when the sea isn''t all the far away, but children''s'' senses really are much too sensitive. The salty briny smell is too much, even for me, someone with another world''s culinary memories.


    There''s nothing wrong per se with this, as all of these things are fresh, organic, and wholesomely tasty. As a rich young lady, I still eat better than the majority of people no? I can switch it up with expensive white bread or whatever I can convince my own kitchens to make.


    It''s been three years since I''ve seen a pop tart or a greasy to-go hashbrown. Three years since huevos ranchero, chicken and waffles, and more importantly all you can drink mimosas. Or any mimosas. Hell, I''d settle for a Bloody Mary.


    "Pass the sea salt," snorts Yuna, mouth full of roughly torn carbs dipped in olive oil and vinegar.


    *plop*


    "....Ok, not what I meant. What''s wrong with princess strawberry today?"


    Oh nothing. Don''t mind me or this random table I''m getting well aquatinted with. I''m just a three-year-old reliving someone else''s really awkward doomed life. You know, the usual reincarnation shit.


    I think I''m handling all this quite well for someone in my shoes. Just taking it day by day.


    No time skips. Not even a single drink to make it any easier.


    *smack smack smack*


    "Oooooookay let''s not do that." grimaces Vincent, finally waking up only to slide a plain focaccia between my face and the table. Darn it. How come he gets to mope all over the table and I don''t?


    "He''s sad and sleepy all the time. More now because he''s busy. You get mad." Amar licks some spilled jam off his little fingers.


    "You forget stressed. I''m not even supposed to be here. " Vincent snaps, stealing the loaded sweet toast out of the kid''s hand.


    Tsk tsk, he looks like such a seedy villain like that. A good old creepy skeleton alright, suffering out in the daylight. Much suffering, munching on much-needed nutrients. Somehow he''s looking even more haggard lately, despite getting slightly fattened up.


    Ah is that what we''re doing?


    "Fine. More milk for everyone." Tamera declares and mopes at the same time, snapping the tavern maid to bring over more....milk.


    Mini toy goats, mountain yaks, sheep herds or working buffalos, wherever it''s from, in a world without nonmagical refrigeration it''s a little difficult for most people to store this stuff long term short of sticking a vat in a cold stream. On its own milk is also just generally reserved for the very young, the very old, or the sick.


    This table counts. A lot.


    Vincent pitifully groans as Amar pats his back.


    "Order it hot for this loser. His stomach can''t handle it otherwise." Yuna bites down on some olive oil grilled greens.


    As picky as I''m feeling today, it doesn''t stop my growing appetite. Especially from watching others chow down so heartily. I still nibble as I mope, from the olive speckled bread to something that seems like grilled white asparagus.


    Peasant fare. Except for the slightly higher quality bread, and the jar of sugar sweet fig jam, this is all standard peasant fare for the season.


    In this world, there''s the common sense that the closer to the ground something else, the more lowly it is. Thing grown from the earth, especially root vegetables, are the lowest ranking.


    Meanwhile, long-legged animals, tall fruits and flying foul are much ''higher'', and thus more suitable for a noble''s palette. Generally, meat and rich sauces are a luxury. People in this world tend to believe that a poor man''s food will make a rich man sick, and vice versa.


    Nobles aren''t to eat ''low'' food, while the poor should not consume anything too high above their stations. That it would make them physically ill. The only thing we can all enjoy is bread, olives, and wine. This is what is ingrained in the minds of not only the nobility but across the board.


    People truly believe this as if it were an actual science.


    The exception being perhaps my family''s territory. We''re the weirdos, not just because I demand salads and veggies.


    It''s a run-off effect on the troops'' balanced military rations and diet, once again grampa''s influence on...literally everything. Balanced meals and wine for all! The troops'' cafeteria is always well stocked on grains, veggies, and even ''luxurious'' meats.


    We actually have a sort of refrigeration with magical aided cold rooms, not to mention grampa''s ''aging rooms''. Mmmms yes, dry age those hunt excess into proper juicy steaks! Tasty tasty, fine steaks go well with red wine.


    Salt supply isn''t an issue either within our territory with the sea and mines. Smoked sausages and meats are also a pretty popular flavorful option. So food preservation here is pretty good even without magical aid.


    If you want to be ''strong'' you need to eat like a hero, full of protein and a healthy mixture of everything else.


    "Can we have meat?!" slurps Lukas, already destroying the last slice of lard.


    Yes, yes that''s a common menu item. Pure slices of lard. The fat that fuels the people.


    "Hmmm we are eating off Vincent''s newfound riches.... yeah sure why the hell not! The thick cuts. Go get them and whatever looks good ya little loudmouth. You all want anything else?"


    "Death." chokes Vincent, going ignored.


    "Hot tea water and a hell lot more fresh mint." Yuna raises.


    "Uh huh, that and the new bread with anise seeds and raisins." Amar agrees and adds on when he smells the freshly baked items wafting from back there.


    Lukas happily runs off as Tamera signs the orders to the barmaids from afar, much to her friend''s choking.


    "Who was it decided that I was paying?!" Vincent complains, looking much more alive when miffed.


    "Everyone." Yuna stacks the older teen''s plate with more food.


    "Literally everyone." Tamera leans over to pat him condescendingly on the head.


    "Everyone. You have lots of money now. And a new patron." Amar mixes in honey and a random brown powder sachet to Vincent''s steaming milk cup, turning it sunflower yellow. Not suspicious at all. Hey, wait a minute-


    "You have a new patron?!"


    Surrounded, Vincent answers with a mouth open groan and slams his head back down on the table. Great answer. I couldn''t do better myself.


    "Drink." Amar pokes at him.


    "The only acting successor to Baron Moracaz, get that money." swallows Yuna, sipping the last of his tea.


    "Yeah and all he had to do was like....get wrung, stepped all over and poison himself for like 9 years? Hope it was worth it buddy. Now you get to look after his not dead body." Tamera lifts his head back up as easily as one lifts a sack of pinecones.


    "It''s fine. If he dies too soon the inheritance doesn''t go to Vincent. And when it''s in Damia''s hands there''s nothing we can do." Amar hands the drink over to Tamera, something she easily forces half down to the protesting skeleton before he relents, taking the warm wood mug into his own hands.


    "Two sons. A 23 year old and a 17 year old. Nothing to note, cept paying off credit for hunt accomplishments. I can take them both with my eyes closed. " Yuna reaches for a fruit with his knife


    "I''m sure even Lukas can take em with a sack tied over his head. But that''s not what ya schemer ways want now isn''t it?" Tamera fake sighs, releasing the poor teen to continue her hearty meal.


    "It''s not even that much money" he complains darkly, looking nauseous.


    "It is now," Amar mentions, far too vaguely for my tastes.


    I can''t take it anymore. Any of it.


    "Suspicious! Why are you all sounding so suspicious? What? Have you all forgotten I''m even here?"


    I slam the table with my tiny fists. Immature yes but very effective in drawing attention. More importantly, what the hell is going on around here? Baron Moracaz? Hoody? They''re speaking shady things as if I wasn''t even here. Too shady!


    "Hey is princess going to be a problem?" Yuna points down at me curiously, as if the thought had just occurred to him.


    "I thought she already knew." shrugged Tamera, eyeing Vincent and tossing him the baton.


    Something he responds to with another groan and attempt to bury himself into the table. The effect is very lackluster. An absolutely wonderful way of avoiding things. It will work as much as the people around you will allow it to.


    I wack him with focaccia.


    "What are they all talking about? What crazy are you planning now? Don''t think I''ve forgiven you from last time. Who is your new patron? More importantly, will this impact my weapons research? How rich is this other patron? Certainly not richer than me. Don''t you dare sell out on me!"


    Each sentence is enunciated with a wack of fluffy bread. If anyone dares tries to help the necromancer I wack them too.


    What a mature and reasonable young employer I am. Not. I''m three ok? No one ever listens to me without a little powerplay, even if it''s something as stupid as fluffy violence. Hey, you, get back up. The others are useless at explaining things right now. All they do is be suspicious and keep eating.


    "Vincent! Wake back up. Answer me."


    "I got bacon and things wrapped in bacon! Are we having bread fights now?! Cap says I can''t play with my food but he does that too!" pops back Lukas with a dangerously balancing platter of stuff.


    From behind him follows some very concerned waitresses with the hot kettle of water, not trusting this child to safely make the delivery.


    Tamera takes over in sweet talking the barmaids, petting Lukas on the head for a job well done. Something take makes the boy absolutely preen and sparkle. When he goes up to Amar to demand similar head pats from the smaller boy, the image is just so damn cute that the following women all squeal in the back of their throats.


    Yuna refills his tea with a frown, doing absolutely nothing, yet the sight of his cool profile still makes a younger maid, perhaps the owner''s daughter, blush in a daze from afar. From underneath the focaccia turned weapon in my hands, Vincent is still trying to melt into the table.


    I fear we make for a very strange looking group. That or just a table with kids. Also the same thing.


    What a brunch.


    "Crazy. All Ventrellas are violently insane. Then they attract more crazies." cries Vincent from down there.


    I wack him with bread again. How come I''m the only one getting called out? What does that have to do with anything? Oh my, Vincent what have you done to your hair to make it so thin? Stress? Oh no no no, this won''t do at all.


    Just as I was about to pull him up by kiddy force, maybe threaten him with force feeing bread, my chair with me very much still in it was lifted off a few feet off the ground.


    "Bad sidekick! He bought bacon! I''ll save you Vinny!" declares Lukas, relocating me on the other side of the tavern table. Right into the kiddy corner.


    "Save him from what? What did you call me? You eat my house''s bacon all the time." I complain back.


    "Bad Rosa, you sit here now. Copy sidekick number one!"


    "....What?"


    "Bacon makes everything better! Amar watch her!"


    "I don''t think I can. There''s always the funny guards? They just can''t hear us right now." head tilts the supposed first sidekick.


    Seriously what? What kind of world does Lukas live in?


    "Well do it anyways! She''s a pretty bad sidekick but that''s ok because everyone has to start somewhere! "


    I''m going to ban this child from all meat products in my kitchens. None.


    "Hmmm ok. Ah this bread is yummy. I knew I smelled anise around here. You should eat before things get cold." Amar smiles into his food.


    The topics change so fast I can hardly keep up. All suspicious conversations gone with the appearance of new food. Tamera loading my plate up with muscle-building proteins while Yuna pours two more cups of mint tea. Sliding one over to a sobbing Vincent while Amar takes the other one, adding a far too generous amount of honey to his cup. I have enough protein but I stab a slice of bacon away from Lukas, just because.


    I guess this spot is not so bad, for there is a much more appetizing selection of fresh food items here. It''s just missing eggs. I''m used to eggs for brunch. And mimosa....oh well can''t have it all.


    Fine, let''s just eat for now. I''ll interrogate later, not like my minions can actually escape me. This much is enough for now.


    I''m actually a very simple girl. Yummy things are yummy.

 110 Ride back

    "Love...really... I don''t think this is quite necessary?"


    "Oh hoho! Of course, it is."


    "My dear...there''s plenty of space."


    "Thus plenty to escape."


    "Mi amore...please...the sun is still out..."


    If someone sent a camera drone, just smack it on a bird, and have it zoomed onto the moving carriage, through a plush curtained window- they would find a revolting sight.


    A scandalously disgusting scene. One of a grown woman sitting not in a proper seat but on my father''s lap! Trapping him down as much as she was claiming, a safety precaution.


    At least I think it''s my father. From my bleary senses, I assume that is his strained voice and his particular shade of red. If that''s not father down there then oooh boy is this awkward. I don''t think my mother would have an affair but hey who knows? Maybe those other ladies gave her some even weirder ideas.


    I don''t know how it works ok? I''m just trying to survive.


    Which is very hard to do when I''m right on top of this mess.


    That''s right, I''m using the scariest being as my pillow. A very precarious spot.


    There''s so much space in this stupid carriage but here I on in this disgusting dog pile and- wait no don''t move me. I''m trying to stay as unconscious as possible. Blerg, no moving! Mama!


    "Oh dear. There there now darling, mama''s got you. Go back to sleep."


    Good mochi pillow. Stay.


    I don''t care if you''re shamelessly trapping or crushing the nerd anymore. Just don''t move.


    It''s not like he''s at court all that often these days nor any overnight trips besides in our own rural territory. Where is some other noblewoman going to try seducing him? And it''s not like he was flirting with those milkmaids with he was inspecting the wares, even if they have great complexions. It''s still too early for all those other women to be active yet.


    "Too early...other women?... Oh daaaaarling~ Frederick, Freed, my bloody heart, my beloved husband who swore till death do us part.... just what is our innocent baby talking about?"


    Ahhhh it feels so nice and cool all of the sudden. I don''t recall us having air conditioning? Let alone in the carriage. Maybe we''re going under a tunnel bridge or something.


    "...Sleep talking babble. Utter delirium. My love, you know how motion sick our Chippy gets."


    "...those young milk maidens had such....wonderful skin....did they dear?"


    "Remarkably so! There''s a school of thought going about that those exposed, even infected, with the diseases of herding livestock, become resistant to Pox diseases. When outbreaks do occur, farmers, particularly dairy workers make it out the most unscathed. The scarring minimal as the rest of the symptoms. Fascinating."


    "Is that so~ Is this limited to ....young milk maids? "


    "Oh no the resistance goes up with age and exposure. Why the elderly in those circles are riddles with sunspots and age lines but not a noticeable pox scar. But just what is it about the livestock? What indeed. Many further observations are needed to isolate the determining factors."


    "Hmmm. Very well. I''ll let you go...for now."


    "Maria? Cuore mio, do you mean it? More research?"


    "Hmmf, oh don''t be such an awful tease.


    If I open my eyes I''m sure a disgusting scene awaits me. Sounds lovey-dovey as always, it makes me want to puke even more. Urg, couples. Why aren''t they tired of each other yet?


    According to mother earlier though, it''s not just her being stupidly gross in choosing this seating arrangement. It''s apparently to prevent any husbands from running off.


    Or getting snatched up. As ridiculous as it is amusing how easy it is to rile up her jealousy. She''s acting as if some other woman is just going to ride up and lasso him out the window.


    "Fret not Maria, for everyone else might as well be but a sack of hay next to even the thought of you." that teasing voice soothes.


    Someone, please throw me out the window. Blerg.


    "...Ouuuut....I want out- bleh." is that''s my own voice?


    "Darling, get the bin for Rosa."


    "Yes dear."


    "...Darling... take our child out of the trash bin."


    "It''s effectively sanitary though, besides just look at her. How amusing."


    "Darling. Now."


    "Yes dear."


    Well that explains why the world went full dark. Blerg, blah bleck ah false alarm.


    Nothing to vomit here, that''s all be done and over with. Just dry heaving blindly. Nothing left to spit up over Lilyanne''s sleepy rolling form or any of my mother''s skirts. The only thing helping me tell up from down.


    If I just....keep all my senses shut down, then maybe I can survive this ride?


    Nevermind! Pothole! Behead the soul who made that pothole this instant! Blerg, burp.


    S.O.S. Send help.


    No matter how light the carriage gets it doesn''t ever feel like it''s enough. These sturdy stone paved roads are never smooth enough. No matter how much work is done on them. No matter how large and luxurious a carriage gets, even with magical aid, I take ill when I''m trapped in this moving vehicle.


    I can hold on during the short and very heavily worked on wagon shuttle commute from my own home to grampa''s troops. I can survive in the not baby sling when I hitch a ride on whichever steed father or grampa chooses to ride that day.


    But this?


    Bleerg. Hic. Nope.


    I should just forget it. I got sick on asphalt and modern cars. In long rocky rides. In stop and go traffic. When someone took a U-turn was too sharp. What chance did I ever have in this world with stupid carriages?


    "Sttttupid carriage."


    Mother pats comfortingly at the dead body in her lap. My limp dead form to be specific.


    I am not in any state of sanity or normalcy, so I''m sorry in advance for anything I do or say. I swear I''m not such a sticky rice cake. I''m not a cry baby mochi or anything.


    "Oh dear. There there now sweet. That''s a good girl. There there, mama understands."


    Mother holds me as if I was a baby, somehow balancing two three year olds while still trapping a grown man beneath her. How inappropriate, kick him out. Or make him useful. What else is a nerd for? Go make the stupid carriage stop moving. Make it sttttttaaaaahp.


    I''m not really crying, I swear this is just this weak body''s reactions. It feels so nauseous all the time, burp. Ahhhhh how gross and frustrating. Kids are messy.


    Normally all this squishy protectiveness from mother would be suffocating but now it''s a safe steady spot. The soft fats of her body cushioning and shock absorbing the motions that must be going on around me. Sock absorbant!


    I''m not a crybaby mochi, you''re the mochi. Super mochi! So much mochi.


    "Darling? What''s a mochi?"


    "I believe my dear, that we do not take anything our children say in their deliriums very seriously. Remember? "


    "Is she calling for someone? Perhaps it''s a name?"


    "Unfathomable. I would certainly think not."


    "Ahh Rosa didn''t even do this as a baby~ It''s awful how ill she gets but this side of her is also cute~"


    Mochi make it stop. No more moving. Only soft stillness.


    How is Lilyanne sleeping so peacefully? We have the same genes? Why is it only me?!


    How the hell did the original Rosalia ever travel anywhere if I''m so pathetic even in this other body? What the hell!? How did this body survive carriages?!


    .....


    Oh yeah. I didn''t.


    The golded carriages were for Lily. I- or well the original Rosa, would ride horseback near everywhere.


    It saved a lot of travel time while items and luggage could be sent for later. I, she, was a very busy girl. After a certain age, riding and safety became no issue, with the number of troop escorts. The only memories I have of the original and any long-distance carriages feature her fast asleep, usually forcibly scheduled by Alfonso.


    Uggg, I''m not even moving and I felt that one.


    Crazy old man?! Nerd?! Anyone? Come lasso me out the window right this instant with your stupid steeds. This wouldn''t be an issue if only I was older and had my own rides or...horses...


    Adorita! Radicchio! Caprice! Biscotti! Mignon! My darlings!!!


    I forgot my own babies! I''m a horrible mother!


    "Darling...now I''m truly lost on what she''s saying."


    "Don''t mind it my love. Just allow yourself to be amused by the curiosity that is a child''s subconscious."


    "But...our Lily sweet is more that perfectly understandable in her sleepy mumbles..."


    "My love, that''s because our precious girls consist of very different mindsets and capacity. Lilyanne has only named one food item in her sleep today. Rosalia on the other hand has named at least 3 in the last minute. "


    "But what does that have to do with..."


    I''m a horrible pet owner! Who cares about identity crises my pets are innocent! My horsies!!!


    "She wants horses."


    "Darling no! You just said not to believe a single thing out of her mouth. "


    Oh wait, I''m only three. How am I going to ride anything?


    My stable obviously hasn''t been formed yet. Most of my darling steeds aren''t even born or weaned yet. I can''t do much at this point. Ahaha silly me.....


    AAAAAAHHHH!!!! ADORITA!!! MY BABY I''M COMING!!!


    Set haste! I need to get my horsie! We need to move! Up! North! But not too north. Just a little bit, right past the territory. It''s where my first horse is waiting for me!


    "She clearly wants a horse."


    "Oh stop that, Frederick no. Frederick stop, don''t you dare I see that look in your eyes. "


    "We need to search the markets. I need to put in requests. What is a good breed for children?"


    "Darling I said no. They''re dangerous!"


    "My love I''m carefully buying it for her, not making her go catch one tame in the wild on her own. But if she ever does go on such an outing with your papa'', I''m sure our Rosalia knows what''s equestrian appropriate to bring home and not giant-"


    *smack*


    "Oh, you beautiful and awful man. I told you never to bring that up again!"


    Why is this memory only hitting me now? When I''m trapped sick and can''t do a thing? Huh that hit sounded kind of harsh? Must be the shock.


    My Adorita, my first steed. I got her when I was only 4 years old. Yes, before all that baptismal fun. But what about now? It''s not like I can even ride her yet when I''m so small. But I must save her! Even if it''s by just a year. What''s the point of getting reborn with this girl''s shitty memories and feelings if I don''t save the horsies?! They''re innocent!


    Sure I''ve ridden other steeds besides my father''s Gino and Damask, but that''s just sitting along. A kiddy pony ride led by someone else, usually an instructor.


    Adorita is different than all the rest. She''s mine. Mine you hear!


    Radicchio can wait. Caprice can definitely wait. It might be a headache but they''ll come to me naturally in time. Damask isn''t even pregnant with my Biscotti yet. Then Mignon is way too far off ahead in the future. To think I have to work hard to find you all and take responsibility again. Ah my babies! Wait no, none of you are not mine yet. Yet!


    Oh my stable, my carefully trained and collected stable of prized horses. Left orphaned, abandoned without me. Lilyanne wouldn''t have known poop about what to do with them. There was Alfonso remaining to care for them, perhaps find them good new homes.


    What must have become of you all?! After Lilyanne. After I...no Rosalia....oh no my stable.


    "...She wants a whole stable."


    "She''s crying in ill health!"


    "Crying for a stable, yes. It must be different for a young growing girl. Much different than any of mine. Hmmm."


    "Frederick you stop thinking right this second. You stop that! You''re not building another horse filled stable. Go to the troops to play if yours aren''t enough."


    "It wouldn''t be for myself?"


    "You''re not giving our toddler an entire stable."


    "I think the girls need ponies? Don''t you? Yes, it''s about time to start training them on how to safely ride. I mean what''s the harm? They''re ponies not giant feral-"


    "Darling!"


    Blerg, oh no, urg I feel so very sick again. Okay, no more thinking or being awake right now. None. I can''t stand any of this. I''m not even standing.


    Mama! No sudden movements!


    Oh curses. Bleh.


    ---------


    ------


    ---


    I''m awake again and starving


    Infants sure do sleep amazingly well. There''s a lot of growth and development at this age. Thus the need for long hours of sleeping and day time naps.


    I''d rather eat though, my stomach is painfully empty and seems to have recovered from today''s carriage ride home. It was the shameful roaring that woke me up.


    I always get so pathetic in my motion sickness. Are there any other ways to avoid riding the carriage? Any vehicle?! Ahhh I just hope I didn''t cry anything too weird and got mother stuck to me like a rice cake again.


    It''s the middle of the night and there''s a sticky toddler snoozing away in my bed. Well, it''s our bed, the shared one in the nursery. The most effective cure to the lifetime of illness. Sleep.


    Lilyanne is such a heavy sleeper, a real infant all right.


    Like many children, Lilyanne could use a stuffed animal to cuddle with in her sleep. Since I absolutely forbid her to bring....''bunny'' to bed, she''s always grasping or cuddling me. I''ve tried throwing pillows and crochet cuteness at her but in the end, I''m the favorite sleep aid. Even if I make a pillow fort in between us, by morning this child will somehow find her way to sucking my thumb and cuddling away.


    Talk about sticky.


    Well, it can''t be helped. Sleeping while sick is a very unpleasant experience. If I just assume her crippling illness of a lifetime ago makes her as bad as I am when motion sick, then most things can be forgiven. Even the awkward thumb sucking.


    It''s more a well-practiced routine now prying her off of me after all these years of practice. She really does sleep well, much different than the fussy crying baby in those memories. Everything is better. Maybe not her personality...that seems honest about the same, despite her young age. Funny.


    But as a child.


    Eating well.


    Sleeping well.


    Staying safe and healthy.


    That''s all people who care want. That much is enough.


    She doesn''t get sick motion like me so, of course, she must have eaten her dinner properly. SHe''s not too picky either. A real child. She can live happily. She doesn''t know about anything, has never been hungry in her life. Never been a burden.


    Not like me.


    Not like him.


    Are you eating well?


    The child in front of me is very healthy and very cute. Everything I ever wanted for her, for him.


    Magic is so convenient for those that can afford it. It makes no sense how but it can heal? At no great to her, the user? So convenient.


    In another world, there''s hospitals and bills. Needles, disinfectant, and a schedule of doctor appointments and physical therapy to keep.


    In the dark I imagine this child to be someone else. Just for a moment. I''m somewhere else.


    You who suffered so much, you''re much stronger than this stupid but cute pampered little girl. You''ve made it all this time without any cheats. So please...be well. Keep eating well.


    I''m not there to nag you anymore. I can''t pick you up after class or take you to your appointments. You always said I''m embarrassing you but...it must have gotten inconvenient without me at least? I can''t worry after you or make your favorite foods anymore. Sorry.


    Sorry, I left you alone. Sorry.


    Wherever you are, don''t cry ok. Eat well and don''t cry without me.


    I sniff back the pressure at the back of my nose and wipe at the sudden tears. Because I must still be feeling ill from earlier. Because there''s no one to answer back anyways. No matter how many apologies I make. Nothing left I can do for him.


    "bwa- zzzz- mikies-zzz " Lilyanne mumbles, rolling herself over from my escape. Snoozing deeply as ever.


    That''s right. In this world, there is only Lilyanne. I only have one sibling in the world and its Lilyanne. It''s fine. I''ll respect the original body''s wishes and take care of this strangle little and honestly annoying girl. For a protagonist, she sure needs a hell a lot of work no?


    I get it, I was a big sister myself after all. That''s just the way siblings are.


    And like all siblings, it''s time to abandon them to go stuff my face. That''s the same in any world or universe. My younger brother would honestly sell me out for a shitty corndog or even instant ramen so who the hell cares! Time for a midnight snack or else my stomach kills me. Off I go!


    Ah but I should use those rafters just in case those pesky guards are still on duty, spying at this time at night. They have a rotating shift, right?


    It''s admittedly very hard to stay stealthy when you''re hungry but I persevere on.


    I don''t know how many leftovers are actually there but there''s always bread and dips. Olive oil and balsamic vinegar is yummy. The fresh organic produce of this land is always tasty, even if my childish tongue can''t handle the more bitter things just yet.


    Sneaking around in my own home is a lot harder than it looks. I would hope I''m getting better at this but let''s not be too unreasonable.


    To throw things off, shall I take the path to one of the small side kitchens?


    Throughout at night, my residence isn''t completely dark. From the courtyards to the oil and magic-lit lanterns. Something is always lit, a little something going on, even if the majority of people are asleep.


    There are the regular night shift guards making their rounds. The prep cooks and assistants getting things ready for the next day. A poor soul stuck on scrubbing something. Even the old gardeners waving down any wandering night owls outside, sharing a bit of good toast and red wine under the moonlight.


    This is a very picturesque and almost romantic world I''m living in, with the beautiful Mediterranean setting and scenery. You know if not for all the medieval technology gaps and gross violence.


    I honestly would not be surprised to find someone standing in the side kitchen. In fact, I rather expect it. Perhaps they would be mixing up cream and butter for the next day. Washing some stubborn pot with a bit of citrus peel.


    Not....luggging a limp body upside down with one hand.


    Uh okay, maybe now is a good time for any secret guards to make their appearance. Not that I would make a sound. Oh hell no. Staying hidden and kid sized.


    The stranger seems to have had the same original idea that I did, making himself a snack of cold cuts and savory bread. A bit of some grilled artichoke still left out. Lovely.


    As if that body was just a sack of potatoes.


    I rub my eyes.


    Yep that is still a body.


    Should I be worried? In another place, I would be but this is my own house. Who knows how many skeletons we have buried around. My only question would be which Ventrella is responsible, Grampa, father or even mother?


    Hmm probably not mother, she''s much scarier than I ever remember but just as clumsy. Something tells me a corpse wouldn''t even be left. And grampa has many other places of business, particularly the troop grounds. This isn''t that crazy old man''s style. He''s much pure violence or bluntly tortures the interrogation subject type. So that just leaves.....father.


    Alfonso also counts but then it''s automatically father''s fault.


    "You''ve arrived early." enters the dashing butler, perfectly pressed even at this hour.


    Ah, definitely father then. Really with shady genes like this, is it any wonder how I became a villainess?


    The tall dark hooded stranger bows. Though his head is covered, the belt cinching his short coat and long probably blood proof boots show a fit and strong body with a masculine shape. Even from my strange vantage angle, I can make out he''s much taller than Alfonso. My old butler always had a bit of a pole like appearance with his perfect posture and this man easily tops him by at least two heads.


    Did I ever have a secret guard that tall?


    "I apologize that no one was able to see you in properly. Please right this way, further refreshment shall be provided. I see there has been no complication nor injuries. "


    "Yes Ma?tre, it is done."


    Oh no his voice is hot. All deep and low on the bass.


    The stranger respectfully bows and stands, the potato sack moving along with him. The hood slips purposefully and oh no he IS hot!


    A mature man, definitely older than my father, with a head of shaved short premature gray that contrasts greatly against the rest of deep ebony skin. Check bones of a ridiculously paid high fashion model and facial bone structure that just screams ''hire me''.


    I could put this glorious man in a trash bag, post a picture on social media with an artsy filter, and sell trashbags for hundreds each.


    This is probably a bad time for my business and aesthetic senses to go off. More importantly, how come he wasn''t in my services?! I would have definitely remembered a looker like this?!


    "Weeded with all ends tied. Very well. Please, follow along this path. It shall lead you where you need to go without bother."


    "Le bon petit souris?"


    "Survived. I expect it shall continue."


    "Hmm. What of that petite souris up there?"


    Both men look up suspiciously to...exactly where I am hidden. Yep. Why bother! I''m three! Did he just call me a mouse? My stomach then decides this is the perfect time to growl....


    "The young miss is quite shy and missed her dinner." nods Alfonso after a beat, indicating with his hand to the not at all shady corridor to one of father''s quarters.


    Tall dark and handsome simply nods in a half-bow, once towards Alfsono and even towards my direction, before disappearing into the night.


    And then, there were only two. Not awkward at all.


    "Young Miss Rosalia, if you come down all on your own I shall have a light and hot supper prepared."


    "...."


    "And I won''t tell your Lord Father."


    "...promise?"


    Oh god did my voice squeak? I really am a mouse.


    The old white butler chuckles and promises.


    "Nor mother? Or grampa! He makes fun of me the most."


    "I do promise my little lady, to not speak of your mouse adventures to anyone."


    Fine if he makes that much sense, I''m coming down. Not like I can start a fire on my own nor get away with it. I''m up against Alfonso after all.


    "He was very handsome, was he one of ours?" I hop down, taking a cushioned seat at the nearby bench. Obviously prepped up by Alfonso for my pathetic height.


    "Something like that my young miss."


    "His accent. From closer to the Bicchieri''s?"


    "Perhaps my astute young miss."


    "Does mother know what father is doing in the middle of the night?"


    "For the most part I believe. Especially when my Lady interrupts to....physically escort the Lord to retire for the evening, and part of the mornings, as he should."


    "Ah, say no more Alfonso. Those are things no one needs to know."


    "Dutifully noted. One more thing my young miss."


    A simple but elegant bowl of warm onion soup and triangle herbed toast clatters in front of me. The aroma was tantalizing. Supposedly to distract me from that slight trail of blood outside, not yet cleaned up. The corridor now strangely dark, as if all the lights have gone off.


    I should inquire more about that, but there''s still plenty of time. It''s already pretty good that no one is threatening me or giving my any awkward ''talks''. Such a violent world we live in, can''t be helped.


    Really now, was the original too busy with her strict schedule not to notice her father''s shady villain like activities or did she just find it too normal growing up? Quite possibly both.


    I shall let it go for now as Alfonso showcases a cup of fresh poured strawberry sweet milk. It''s Korean strawberry milk! Just like I requested before. How wonderful!


    "Welcome back home Miss Rosalia."


    ------------

 111 Strings

    "Diggwy!"


    "Yes that right my pumpkin pants Lilyanne~ All you larvae hear that! My darling precious adorable baby granddaughter says DIG. Dig as if your lives depend on it!"


    "Pantsies! Dig dig dig dig digwy!"


    "Put your thighs and buttocks into it! If it doesn''t burn and burst in agony you''re giving your all! These holes won''t dig themselves now dig!"


    Dozens of people, dozens of holes.


    They''re were spread far out across the northern grounds outside the encampment, looking to me much like bugs. Each bug burrowing into as much hard nasty dirt as they could. Exhaustion and filth already weighing on most of them.


    Those who started strong, arrogant even, now broken by the tedious act of digging. Their rural spades heavy, the earth below thicker and heaver the deeper they get. Sometimes they would even find a ''surprise'' down there!


    An extra hard piece of rock or bedrock? Biting ants? Exploding stink bugs? An unidentifiable skull? Who knows!? It''s a surprise.


    No really, no one knows. It''s empty land for the troops expanding into the forests. I think grampa does this to save on construction costs and labor.


    On a tall shaded platform sits not only grampa and uncle Geoff but an elder few instructers of the troops. Two sets of long tables are set with fine embroidered cloth, well-carved silverware and a light but extravagant selection of refreshments. From the pitchers of good wine and overflowing fruit bowls to the barrels of honey mead and bubbling beers. Something that I swore....was never so fizzy? Hey grampa, did you steal my knock off soda before I could patent that? Grampa?!


    Noticeably, it presented in a much fancier style that is seen daily and generally preferred around here. Of course, those below don''t know that. They''re all strangers. The scene of the troop walls already dazzling to them, let alone this courtly platform filled with what is essentially a bunch of respected celebrities in this world. The splendor of the banners, flowers and just overall construction keeps them digging.


    It''s part a picnic viewing as well as full judgment of the senior troops on the pathetic bugs digging below.


    The first part of this season''s recruitment.


    "Keep digging!~" cheers grampa, making a stupid face as he keeps playing with a giggling toddler.


    If anyone had any dreams, any fantastic illusions, about joining the troops alongside the great hero, perhaps proving their worth by slaying a great big scary monster....well...reality sucks. Hope they wake up a little.


    Who would have thought that the first test to join the hero''s encampment was a dig a hole? No real rules, not much further instruction, and definitely no idea they''re just being used as free labor at this point. They were given a shovel, told to pick a spot in this pathetically half cleared lands, and just forced to dig.


    This is awful. Just awful.


    It''s bring your grandchild to work day again and I''m here to witness all this horror.


    By that I mean it''s just grampa dragging around my sister and I. Playing mascot instead of doing anything productive. Most of the time we''re not even on the viewing platform, which is very comfortable and cushioned, but rather on the dusty ground. Hopping from one hole to another, watching to suffering soles.


    I''m back at the campgrounds today instead of trapped by either one of my ....doting...parents. But at what cost?


    What have I ever done deserve this much punishment? This much grounding? In this life at least. I''m still so young and innocent. Only three years already and already treated like a felon.


    Sure I''m not being treated as awfully as the newbie grunts forced to dig but my torture is a whole different layer of hell.


    My favored little sister sits free. Walking around where she so pleases when Grampa puts her down from the shameless baby sling or her muscular arms. The true little princess of this land, reigning over the subjects.


    Then there''s me.


    The joke.


    On the leash. No really, there''s a toddler leash on me.


    Wrapped my armpits and chest is harness with a bungee cord like leash. The other end of said leash leading to none other than the crazy old man, my unfortunate relations in this life, who thinks this is even okay?!


    Abuse! Humilation! Oppression!


    Why am I on a toddler leash?!! Where did it even come from? Why can''t I get it off? So many questions never enough answer with grampa.


    "Diggy wiggy Rosa lookie heehee." Lilyanne tries pulling me up from where I mope.


    If anyone noticed a cute clapping toddler girl in their suffering, prowling the grounds with the not so great hero, they will, unfortunately, notice me as well. The other one. Getting dragged on by leash. I look like a toddler throwing a bad tantrum.


    Even if I stubbornly sit on my butt, just lay on the floor refusing to be seen, the cord will eventually run out and pull taunt. Then I''m literally being dragged on the ground.


    Oh the shame.


    "You see that! You''re all so pathetic! Even my tiny itty bitty squishy pumpkin of a granddaughter could do a better job digging! With nothing but her bare face! Good job Rosa!"


    I''m really not. Grampa please drawing attention. Please let the earth bury me and my shame in peace.


    I don''t want to be here. Not like this. Send me back to the nerd if you''re going to make a zoo monkey out of me. Dear gods of this insane world, why did you ever allow the invention of the toddler leash?


    "Up up! Rosa uppy! So manies! One souwl two souwl um who comes after two?"


    "...Three Lily. After two comes three, then four. It''s holes not souls...actually never mind. One soul, two souls, what comes next?"


    "Two hungereds!"


    ".....sure. Two hundred hungry souls. Offered to in blood and dirt to build our playground."


    "That''s my girls!" yells back Grampa from a distance away, being a general bad influence. The limit to the toddler leash was already tight.


    "Yaaaaaaay! Pway pway pway." cheers Lilyanne.


    It''s so adorable how she pushes a mound of dirt back into someone''s hole that I almost forget my misery on the toddler leash. Nothing like cuteness and the suffering of others. Yep.


    At my amusement and willingness to sit up and watch her, Lilyanne gleefully knocks over more dirt piles. More mildly inconveniencing the recruits rather than any real sabotage. When someone accidentally looks up in their hole at the right moment to get a mouthful of dirt I even grace her with a smile. Positive reinforcement is important for children after all.


    Even tied up I still find ways to corrupt my easily impressionable sister. So sweet and dumb, let''s see how this protagonist keeps up her perfect reputation over the years. Ah yes I''m so evil.


    I kid, if only it was that easy. That''s why I need to work long term on saving my own skin. Anyone with a protagonist halo can do no wrong. Does that make sense? Of course not. But after dying so many times as I have, you just give up and roll with it.


    It''s all okay since she''s so ridiculously cute. Cruel and unfair but hey when has life ever been fair?


    Cuteness does rule the world.


    Lilyanne is slowly learning better moderation when she zaps all her excess magical mana out. She no longer passes out into a battery nap immediately after and even has the strength to play around like this. What good progress, she''s getting stronger.


    "Pasta! Lily like yummy chewsie wit pasta! Tummy go grrrwww like diggies."


    "Yes yes yes pasta is yummy, let''s get the kitchen to make us pasta later." I assure her.


    Even if I can''t fully understand it''s important to encourage small children. It helps build their brains and heaven knows my twin needs it. It''s painful to imagine how lacking her development last time went.


    Pasta does sound yummy right now, especially with a good dippable sauce. You can never go wrong with pasta. In this blessed land of course there''s pasta. Huzzah!


    Ah...but do we have spaghetti? Fettuccine yes. Linguine yes. But nothing mechanical or tube-like. All pasta here is manually knife cut or dumpling shaped, not that there''s anything wrong with that. It''s all fresh and delicious if a lot of hard work. You had to make the dough, keep flouring it, cut and press it all into the right shapes if not just knife it up into strips or triangles.


    Hmmm, would a pasta machine be too much right now? A hand crank one? Then we can have macaroni and an easier time. That''s more forms of slurpable nood-"


    *slurp*


    The sudden sound from Lilyanne has me out of my cute daze and up on my feet. As far as the leash lets me go. I know I may have been fantasizing a bit about noodles but there''s no way there''s any out here. There''s nothing but dirt! Dirt, and toddler and...oh no.


    "Lily no! Lilyanne! Put that down!"


    *slurp*"Rosa! Rosa hungwy? Pasta funny and not as yummy wit out chewsies. Dancy dancy holey pasta. Oh pwate! Need pwate for pasta. "


    Down goes another worm, lost down the cavern that is a toddler''s mouth. The squirming handful more in her sticky palm desperately trying to make their escape.


    The most pressing concern of this beautiful little princess not on the mess of worms unearthed, or the fact that she just swallowed them down raw, but that she doesn''t have a proper plate for them. Something to present and share.


    ...I''m so glad that table manners are a lesson beginning to stick. No! Why is she eating worms in the first place! Ahhhhh!


    "NO! No not pasta! Worms are not pasta! Worms are not food!"


    "Pasta?"


    "Not pasta!"


    "Wormy pasta?"


    "No no no icky, not yummy. Worms are icky."


    "Rosa wuv pasta?"


    "Yes I looooove pasta. That''s not even pasta! It''s a worm and- oh did no one ever explain to you what a worm is....oh no." I take a deep breath, asking for strength and patience I may not have.


    "Lily. Big sister says worms are not pasta, even if they look lots alike. Worms are alive! They eat dirt and stuff in the dirt. They''re not made from yummy dough that makes pasta, in fact they taste grooooosss. They taste like dirt and stuff. Don''t eat. No. Bad"


    As I speak, my pretty little twin looks back and forth between me and the obviously not pasta noodles in her grasps. The slimy squirming dull pink and gray things that in no way look or taste appetizing.


    "Liwwi remeber...what smarties big buder say."


    "....what?!"


    "Lookie liwke pasta." she stares down at it, scrutinizing it in great confusion.


    "They''re only long, lots of things are. Doesn''t really look like pasta Lily!" I scream at her, still trapped by a leash.


    "No smell liwke pasta" she sniffs, analyzing the lack of well, anything that smells like food.


    "Yes! Yes that''s right, it doesn''t smell like pasta at all. Or anything cooked. It''s just dirt and worms. Now put them down and away from your mouth-"


    *slurp*


    Oh dear.


    I have no words. No words to describe the scene of how my sister just, downed a handful of live worm noodles in dirt sauce. Nor how I feel about that.


    There is just no way to play against a toddler and their logic. These creatures are insane.


    For the first time, after a long time, Lilyanne starts...chewing. She chews, and chews, with a face full of gross concentration. As if she were a fine wine critic and not- oh. Oh and she''s spat them out! Yes! Yes!!!


    "No twaste liwke pasta!" she adamantly declares, not bothering to wipe the spare worm chunk off her face.


    "That''s correct! It''s doesn''t taste like pasta so it''s not pasta. Get it?"


    "Dancy funny pasta not pasta! Not yummy nom nom noms!"


    "Very good Lily" The bar is low and getting lower, but that''s kids for you. Positive reinforcement I tell myself, keep her positive and learning. "I''m sooooo proud of you for figuring it out-"


    *slurp*


    Nevermind.


    I must say there''s no one quite like Lilyanne at leaving me speechless. In any lifetime. Such is the power of the heroine, even as a worm slurping toddler.


    "Lilyanne, didn''t you just....say it wasn''t yummy?" I try.


    "Noms noms not yummy" she nods.


    "Then why are you still eating it?!"


    "Musht no wastie fwood. No yummy musht cwean plate says Gabgab an grampapa!"


    "Gabgab and grampa....that for food Lilyanne! Vegetables! Finish your dinner plate. Worms are not food, there''s not even a plate. Why are you still eating them?!"


    She considers it. Another innocent worm pops its head out the dirt mound only to meet it''s doom. Going down whole.


    "Dancy dancy in my mouth ish funny hee hee. Pasta dancy."


    I just don''t understand but I see I have no other choice.


    "Grampa!!! Get over here and look at what your gross grandchild is doing!"


    I feel the leash pull and contract, like a button''s been pressed and for a moment I''m weightless. I''d scream if I wasn''t already used to this from all the testing rounds this morning.


    Yes, the very sturdy toddler leash has a retract option. Again, who ever let this thing be created in the first place?


    "Which one?!" booms grampa, catching me like a yoyo as he rushes up to the scene.


    The landing of his well defined chest much softer than it looks. It''s mortifying but I can admit why Lilyanne likes napping here so much. Like a firm pillow, squishy but not suffocatingly squishy, for he is not mother, or even a woman. Even as a grown toddler, there''s plenty of comfortable space on this chest. Except for when he unexpectly spins, it''s a very steady and nappable spot.


    Pat pat. Ah yes, an unfair mucle definition. I pat some more in petty revenge and not in a fascinated squishing. Pat pat pat.


    "What do you mean which one? Of couse it''s Lilyanne, look."


    There''s dirty toddler on the ground. She would be very cute if not chasing after worms, or stuffing them into her mouth.


    Urg....someone please take the reigns on this child.


    "Oh! Already practicing for a survival situation! Oh they grow up so fast." grampa cluthes me tighter to the squish, his cow eyes wide and sparkling.


    "...no she''s eating worms you old kook. Get her to stop. "


    "A true predator! Eating up those worms! It will keep you alive if nothing else!"


    "She''s not a bird. Be a resposnible adult and stop her already."


    The clouds move just right, spring sunlight streaming down in a beautiful natural splotlight. It makes me squint and forces me to turn up into grampa''s many man bosom. A breeze blows rustling some green leaves past along with our hair.


    I fear fairy tale birds and murder squirrels will start singing.


    "One must start out from somewhere." he starts, looking a little too serious, " But your sister is right bunny-boo, work up the food chain! No grandchild of mine is a bottom feeder. Partake in prey more worthy of your prowess and absorb their strength! Climb the ranks of nature. Now that you have tasted the blood and screams of worms it''s time to move onto bigger prey and become stronger. Now come."


    How inspiring.


    "...Grampa. I''ve always wanted to ask this but...what is wrong with you?"


    "hee hee wormy scream pasta funny!" *slurp*


    And effective.


    "....Huh? That worked when my Maria was small?"


    I smack him, repeatedly, for he is an idiot. That and many other reasons, like the fact that everything ever is his fault. Especially the leash. Why the hell am I the one on the leash?!


    "You fool. Stop her now. Pick her up and put her on the leash! She''s eating dirt and going to get herself sick."


    "Hmmm but is it poison?"


    Way to aim at my very short dark past. A cheap shot that shuts me up. For emphasis grampa jangles the toddler leash, showing off the scrunchie cord wrapped around his wrist like a pair of handcuffs. It''s a bad game where he''s the warden and I''m the tiny prisoner.


    Sure he lifts Lilyanne up and away from her disgusting snack, continuing the inspection with an armful of toddlers. But which one of us is literally tied up and being treated like a criminal? I''m not just talking about today.


    Full surveillance by guards and staff. A strict father enforced schedule of disjointed lessons. Mother randomly popping up to steal my skincare products, my snacks, my assistant and minions, hell even me myself. Even now, I''m not to be left alone. This toddler leash is a lot sturdier than it looks, easily pulling me back to gramps if he so pleases.


    What the hell is with this short leash? No pun intended!


    "Grampapa lookie! Big man go nap nap,"


    "Oh sweetie, No matter how big or strong someone looks that''s not real strength! That''s them succumbing to the weight of the world and giving up. That or they passed out, huh? Medics! Got another one!"


    "Hee hee. Dig dig dig dig dig!"


    I can''t deny, it hurts my pride that everyone trusts ....that, more than me.


    "Dig dig dig hewo dig dig diggy dig dig dig dig pasta dig dig dig dig~"


    "....grampa stop her."


    "Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig hi hi! dig dig dig dig oh big dig dig dig!"


    "Grampa!


    Like that we prance about the grounds, at once motivating and honestly more mocking the poor participants in this awful selection test. Just a senile man and a toddler yelling at you to dig.


    Okay, maybe I''m being too harsh. I''m sure there some good wise old reasons for having the test done like this. It can''t just be about manual labor. Otherwise, what''s the point of the viewing platform. Nothing is as simple or easy as it seems.


    Everyone up there is watching for different things, for their own reasons.


    Some are checking for the basic strength needed to survive in the troops. It''s not like any average person can make it in, simply because they wouldn''t be able to keep up or be of any use.


    Some are checking for magic. Those with a special ability or skill could make use of them here. Herculian strength? Boring, show something with a little more pizazz.


    Then there are those watching for character. Against a tedious seemingly pointless task, they''re watching how people react. What they choose to do, magic or not. It demonstrates not only what''s in their bodies but in their brains.


    What do they have to show us all?


    So I allow grampa to act as my moving platform, carrying from hole to hole to inspect the potential new wares. It sure is cleaner and less shameful than getting dragged around in the now filthy ground, though he does occasionally pause to let Lilyanne run amok.


    Hard to believe that''s the so called perfect girl in the original''s memories. There she goes right into that dirt pile. Now she''s spinning and kicking it down people''s holes again. Now she''s on the ground making a dirt angel.


    Just where is she learning all this from?


    "Ahahahahaha! So slow! Why is everyone all slow and boring and stuff? I can dig lots better even when I was littlier! Cap cap cap look Gab-er um teach let me play- I mean stay for pizza because today is pizza day and it''s coming real soon and it smells super yummy and stuff and it''s going to make everyone super hungries if they''re already!" a certain familiar loudmouth comes running up.


    I look up to the sky, unsure about the tragically ironic answer to my latest question. Seriously?! Lukas?!


    "Hi hi hi hewo hi! Biggie burder pway?!"


    "Milky goats! Not the stinky biting baby!"


    "Pway?"


    "Ahhhhhhh!!!"


    Like an innocent tender child against a muck covered swamp monster, Lukas runs up behind grampa''s legs. To be fair, Gable must have worked hard to keep him clean and cute looking this morning. Meanwhile, grampa has allowed precious little Lilyanne to truly become one with the earth.


    I should be protecting my dear sister from this horrible monster of a bad influence but somehow why do the roles feel reversed? As if Lukas is the one who needs saving from the way he''s climbing up grampa like a tree.


    Making his way up and over grampa, climbing into my squishy spot, uh excuse me.


    "Ahhhhh it''s back! How did it get that fast- oh wait. Red. This one''s Rosa!" he scrambles himself to hang off grampa''s neck. Something the kooky old man just allows with a stupid closed eyed smile.


    "Hello Lukas, now get out of my spot."


    "No! How come it''s your spot huh?! Cap''s boobies aren''t yours!"


    "I''m here right now so it''s my spot and...did you just call them boobies? Never mind, grampa do something about this one too. "


    "Uppy up! Liwli wanna pway too!" jumps Lilyanne from below.


    "Aaaaah don''t let it get me! I can''t take it on without Amar! Rosa you do something about it! Tell it to sit or heel or something?! You have it trained right?" shouts Lukas, too close to my ear for his screams not to be painful.


    "....no."


    The whole time, grampa responds by doing absolutely nothing. Just cheerfully balancing a gaggle of children. Being nestled in the prime real estate on his body apparently, I catch under his breath something that sounds like "so many~"


    Useless. How in any world is this man capable of anything? Just useless.


    From the area of the platform, I smell more than see a late lunch being served. The iconic aromatic scent of pizza wafting through the air.


    If the recruit wannabees in the fields weren''t already dropping like flies, they''re falling dead now. The delicious scent reminding them of their own hunger. Those with strength left to salivate do so. Curious eyes turning up and over to the splendor of the platform, to the strange delectable toasty pastry being served.


    Ah pizza day. The types and variety growing with each season as the cooks and trainees get used to baking the pies to perfection.


    That may be why uncle Geoff and literally everyone else is so preoccupied. That or they just don''t want to bother with grampa''s shenanigans...because he''s just...well like that. That''s fair. I''d pick food over him any day.


    In fact, send me right over there. I may not be worm slurping levels but I''m pretty darn hungry.


    It seems, however, the fates are not in my favor. Because they never are. Grampa wants to keep playing this sick game of taunt the maybe newbies.


    "Lukas my lad, do you think you can show what these worms how it''s done?" laughs grampa, his voice unnaturally loud. It''s like a stage, the sound resonating across the field and catching everyone''s attention back on us.


    "Uh huh! Of course, I can, I did this before and now I can do this a lot better because I''m bigger and stronger and all that stuff!"


    Grampa laughs with his head slightly thrown back, crisp and clear. The awful sunlight still lighting warm brown locks and sunny tanned skin up in all the right ways. Ah, the magic of good lighting in making even a crazy old man look handsome. Don''t be fooled, anyone! It''s not worth it! The fact that he''s a single father and grandfather this long is proof enough of that,


    He steals a heavy spade from one of the shallow abandoned holes. The poor random soul probably long given up if not carted away by the medics.


    "You know how it goes my boy! Choose a clear spot and dig. No other instructions. Just don''t do anything that will make your ''Guardian'' too mad at me." grampa winks, holding out the primitive shovel.


    Something that Lukas gleefully grabs and runs off with, despite the tool being over twice his height. He makes a very strange sight like that, especially when some people here gave up with the spade from its weight alone. A fair little mochi brat like that couldn''t possibly do what tough grown men failed at.


    At least normal ones. The people around grampa are anything but normal.


    "Got it!" waved Lukas, picking a spot.


    He seems even more hyped up with all the attention on him, the spotlight passed from grampa to the boy. It doesn''t surprise me at all when he starts tearing into the ground below with the oversized tool. Just destroying and unearthing a hole with an unreasonable amount of speed and strength. It''s like we set loose an industrial diamond headed drill and not a short little grade-schooler.


    I do however wish I had a camera to record how jaws dropped. Some onlookers froze in shock at the scene. A few more simply threw their hand up, to give up and walk away. Presumably going "nope" at the unfair comparison.


    It really is unfair but hey, if that''s what it takes to scare away some more unworthy recruits. If you get that discouraged by a kid, monster or not, then you''re really not the kind of person who will make it here. Not everyone can be an adventurer or let alone a famous hero. Same as how people want to become professional athletes, actors, musicians or some sort of shining celebrity on earth.


    Few people actually have what it takes. Fewer are lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to make it happen.


    I suppose it has to do part with opportunity. People dreaming of striking it rich and famous in lieu of other prospects. A lot of farmer''s sons, dreaming of a life of fame and glory. Even worse, in this world, there are no such things as online applications, resumes, or even internet searches.


    Agriculture is a humungous and incredibly important industry. It keeps people fed and alive, working the land to life, but it''s hard work and not very glamorous. Understandably, not everyone wants to follow in their parents footsteps. However, unless they can manage to get a trained apprenticeship elsewhere, children tend to follow in the profession of their parents before them. Even years of training as an apprentice isn''t a guarantee that they''ll make it in that line of work.


    Farming is often seen as something you go back home to. When you failed to make it elsewhere.


    As Rosalia, I feel a great distaste for them. These ''rejects''. Resentment even.


    Life is hard. It''s hard for everyone. So what? So what if you didn''t make it as some big shot? Go do something else instead. Go make something of yourselves instead of wasting hard-earned resources and pointing fingers. There are no promises, no payouts if you don''t put work into it.


    Miracles don''t exist, even in a world of magic. No one can fix all your problems. Nothing is free.


    As a modern person however, a struggling person, I feel that pain. Searching. Applying. Rejection. The grind day in and out. The clawing shame and desperation that burns low, fanning at the fire of whatever reasons you do what you do. I felt that. It''s not just stubbornness holding them all out.


    Lots of people have dreams about who they want to be, how they want to turn out.


    Some people want to be famous, to be acknowledged and beloved by many. For whatever reasons or their means, they want that.


    Some people want to be rich. To never feel hunger or the fear of financial insecurity ever again.


    Some people want to reach for the stars. Shoot past the moon and break their orbits. To see for themselves the worlds beyond what they''ve known. Maybe go where no man''s gone before.


    Once, I knew someone like that, bound to leave footprints on the moon and stardust behind in his wake. A beautiful nonsensical dream. I knew people like that, all of that, once a long time ago. I think I was one of them.


    I don''t think he would like this world very much. We''re missing too many things. I can try baking all the honey buns or pizza pies, search these lands far and wide for lifetimes, but it''s not enough.


    Stars twinkled in curious black eyes, a bit of gravity always felt lost around him, under his feet. A boy that made you feel lightheaded with his laugh, oxygen dangerously lost. There are no rockets to shoot anyone to space here, magic can''t replace everything. It''s nowhere near enough.


    The night sky is very beautiful here on this unpolluted planet. Sparkling diamonds on black blue velvet, running on infinity. It all makes you feel so small when you really look up. But the planets in this galaxy are not the ones we know, even if what lies above the sky''s barrier have yet to be discovered. Mercury, Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, even Pluto and so forth. The heavenly bodies dotted and drawn in permanent ink, hidden all over on his body. Because he loved them so much.


    They don''t exist here. The space you loved doesn''t exist here. It''s a whole new world to explore.


    Maybe he would have liked that part.


    Not that it matters.


    "Waaaaah! Can Liwli pway too?" my messy sister tugs and asks at Grampa. The easily impressionable monkey looking back and forth at "big bruder Lukas" and grampa with all the sparkling envy of a child. I watch in his arms at this scene before me.


    This is my reality now, as strange as it may be.


    The not so old man laughs again as he sets me down, stealing another shovel to drop in front of us. It lands not just with a great dust cloud thud but the weight created a small depression in the ground.


    "If you girls can pick this up then sure!" gramoa challenges in a cooing baby voice.


    Oh gods of this land rather than the children, as concerning as they are,.... can you do something about this man I have to call my biological grandfather?!


    Immediately Lilyanne toddles down to lift one end of the thing, only fall over herself. Really I could have told her that. This is something beyond our capabilities.


    In another life, even with the control of a near unlimited amount of magic behind her, my sister did not have Herculean strength. That''s just not part of the package. Nor is it very lady like. So, of course, it would be absolutely unreasonable to expect her to lift much anything.


    "Grrrr." she tugs, failing to move the thing by even a millimeter.


    "Huh, what a shame. Thought she would have more Maria to her..." observes grampa, as if he was honest to god disappointed.


    That was before turning to me. Stupid invisible flowers floating out as the sun literally warms his too wide smile. The disgust at what grampa is about to pull almost distracting me from the incriminating comment about my own mother.


    "Rosie pumpkin~ Don''t you want to have a try?"


    "No."


    "Oh come on Rosa, for fun!"


    "No."


    "You can hit people more effectively with this!"


    "I won''t bother grampa. I''m three and have no magic cheats. You know that. This is stupid and Lilyanne''s going to hurt herself like that. Lilyanne stop that."


    "Grrrrrr!" grunts my sister, going red in the face as she pushes and pulls. The heavy spade still staying all in one place despite grampa''s pathetic cheering and encouragement.


    What the hell does he expect from us? Another monster like Lukas?!


    Oh my god, how many feet is that brat going with the digging? That''s a well practically!


    Is he going to be okay down there? The hole is getting darker and it''s getting difficultly harder to see him. How is he going to get back out?


    "He won''t." comes a soft childish voice from out of nowhere, making me jump in air in fright.


    "Ack! How long have you been there?!" I shout, pointing a finger.


    Amar stands with cheeks stuffed, peacefully chewing on a tasty looking slice of pizza. Looking back a bit I see grampa personally feeding my dirty sister a slice from a flat basket. Pizza delivery has arrived.


    "Um, just now? Lukas is really strong even against adults, he can go for a long time. Last time we had to dig stairs and drop lines to pull him out."


    "Ah, I believe that. Did they have to rope him out? And hand over the pizza."


    Instead of being a good little trained minion, he puffs his cheeks and turns away. At first, I thought it was pizza, then pure rudeness until I realized he was struggling to hold back laughter.


    The brat is making fun of me.


    "I will give you to the count of 10 to stop laughing," I demand, being generous with the countdown.


    "Not laughing." the kid lies.


    "Stop holding your breath then. What so funny?"


    "Nothing much."


    "What are you laughing at huh?! Answer me!"


    "Not laughing."


    He''s trying so hard not to loudly laugh that it''s making him tear up.


    As I make to swipe at him and some pie, the choking kid hops but a long step away. My movements suddenly halted, confined but for squirming limbs. So close yet so far I could scream.


    The stupid toddler leash. That''s it! I''m still trapped by this thing!


    No matter how much I fiddle or pull I just can''t undo this thing. I don''t even know what the limits are on the leash. I think it''s adjustable but how? I''ve been thwarted since the beginning! Frustrated I settle on threatening the brat apparently taking amusement in my plight. For he pokes and pulls at the cursed line tying me back to grampa, before doubling back down in constrained laughter.


    "You, stop foolishly snickering right this instant!"


    "Uh huh."


    "Shut your-"


    "I SMELL FOOD IS PIZZA HERE?! HEY CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?!" Lukas seems to echo from down below.


    Properly distracted, we look down at the pit. One can no longer see a digging child. But that''s certainly his voice down there. There really was nowhere else he could have gone.


    "How far did you go?!" I yell out,


    "Uh huh! We can hear you lots!" Amar shouts down the darkness, hands cupping his mouth.


    "COOL!"


    "Can you even get out of there?!".


    I now see what Amar meant by last time story time. Yep, can certainly see how a child digs themselves in a whole they can''t get out of. At this point, we''re all just shouting. The hole is deep.


    "I DON''T KNOW BUT IMMA DO IT! I''M NOT THAT LITTLE AND WEAK ANYMORE!"


    "Okay! We''ll wait! Do you want me to keep talking?!" offers Amar.


    "YEAH! CAN YOU KEEP TALKING LOTS AND LOTS?! LIKE BEFORE?!! BUT I WANT FOOD TOO!"


    "Come back up then!" I yell.


    "I''M TRYING! WHICH WAY IS UP AGAIN?!"


    Which was is what now?


    Too many people here have genuinely concerning IQs and personalities. Is there something in the water? Or is it just a grampa and crazy proximity thing? Probably grampa and his nasty habit of attracting weirdos.


    "It''s rough and a lot easier to climb than the outhouse?! Even if it''s deeper! Just follow my voice okay?!" shouts down Amar, hands cupped around his mouth. "And Rosa''s yelling! Climb the way that feels harder! That''s usually the right way!"


    "OKAY! ROSA IS VERY LOUD SO THAT''S EASY TO FIND!"


    "Excuse you!"


    "YEAH IT SOUNDS LIKE THAT! BUT I LIKE YOURS BETTER AMAR! ITS A LOT NICER AND STUFF!"


    "Again, excuse you!?!"


    "Oh, thank you!"


    In the midst of all the noise, my leash relaxed at Grampa approaches. A filthy but munching Lilyanne toddling along by his side. Her mouth full of pizza and distracting her from the bad comedy of little Timmy- er Lukas.


    "Huh, again? Well, he''s taking it much better than last time he got stuck! How you down there Lukas my boy! "


    "HIII CAP!?! I GOT HUNGRY AND WENT A LITTLE KAPLOOT BUT I''M OK! I BROUGHT MY LIGHT JARS!"


    "That''s great! Fight and climb!"


    "YEAH! ITS REALLY AIRY DOWN HERE SOMETIMES! AND I THINK SOMETHING IS SMELLING ME! IT HAS WHISKERS AND IT TICKLES HAHA! "


    That...doesn''t sound good.


    "AND TEETH! COOL!"


    Oh not good, not good at all.


    "Huh, I should probably do something about that." grampa talks as if he was merely musing about it.


    For a dark and strange moment, he looks down specifically at me. Playing with the bungee cord tying the two of us together. I see the crazy wheels spinning in his head despite the multiple better options we must have. Frantically I shake my head and sit my butt down.


    "You''re not throwing me down there. I can''t do shit." I show off my short little arms and pudgy fingers.


    "I can do it. With or without the walking leash...." volunteers Amar.


    How noble, except he takes one look at me still very attached to the toddler leash, before turning back in shaking laughter. I hate him. I hate grampa. I hate everyone who has ever seen or had anything to do with the baby leash. Get this thing off me already.


    "HAHAHA! BAD WHISKERS! BACON IS ALREADY IN MY TUMMY! YOU CAN''T HAVE IT!"


    At this point, we''re getting more than a few eyes on us. The immediate area is empty with how many recruits have thrown in the towel but the uh drama from below is definitely getting concerned attention.


    Upon the platform, the senior troops are too used to these sorts of shenanigans to worry. I can also make out a few gossipy old folks, sighing and motioning. I think they''ve seen this many times before. It sounds like he hit something''s den.


    That and Lukas is a rather recognizable voice...with a bit of a ...troublesome reputation. Aka, he''s a hyper little monster. He''s not hated or anything, but kids are a handful and most people are not equipped to deal with. As a cute hyper little kid, he''s preferred in small amounts. Many people congratulated and wished him well when he went off to ''apprentice'' away with Gable. Many more thanked the minor gods for the relief of the most damage causing brat and prayed for the mysterious master that took on the responsibility.


    If it was a new recruitee or someone less...um...sturdy, I''m sure a rescue unit would have already been activated. It''s not like there''s anything particularly dangerous in this designated spot unless you''re deathly allergic to bugs?


    "IT''S SO FLUFFY! I CAN''T HURT A FLOOFIES?! BUT I THINK IT''S TRYING TO EAT MY BACON AND THAT''S REALLY BAD BECAUSE THAT''S ALREADY INSIDE ME. OW! BAD WHISKERS! OW! bUT FLUFFY! OW! CAN I KEEP AND FEED IT CAP?! OW!"


    "Gotta say that''s a no Lukas, don''t think that''s house trainable! Play times over bud, get ready to catch and hang on."


    "AWWWWWWWW!!! BUT I LOVE FLOOFIES!"


    "I know little buddy but you know how Gabe gets Only very specific breeds can be pets."


    "AWWW OK. WHOA!!!"


    Just as grampa finally starts to unlocks the toddler leash on my person, ready to lasso it down the hole, something cracks, and moves.


    No not the ground below us, just close. The ground next to us, raising up ever so slightly like a crack in baking bread, with it goes the sound of Lukas. Somehow I don''t think the kid is down this pit hole anymore.


    "Well now I really should do something before he gets too attached to it. It''s always harder to kill after that. Come on girls, lets drop you off someplace safe first. Amar, can you be a big brother and watch after them?"


    "Uh huh! Ok!"


    Just as grampa scoops my sister and I up, moved over elsewhere, with Amar obediently following beside him, someone else in the field threw up their hands.


    "That''s it! Move! Move it! God damn why are boys always like this?" comes a brash woman''s voice.


    The earth creaks and moves, suddenly there''s a giant chunk of it suddenly in the air. It''s the size of a respectable bedroom. An irregular block of dirt, not dissimilar to a computer gamer. Before one can shake off the shock of seeing Minecraft in real life, it''s thrown over on am empty hole spotted part of the field. Then another one of roughly the same size appears, dug out, following the cracking lines.


    They land in clouds of dirt and rock. Over an away. Some large scale digging going on here. Underneath the dusty clouds I can make out a panting figure, a woman presumably with a long, once colorful skirt and slightly loose flowing pants underneath.


    The unbelievable digging goes on for 7 more consecutive blocks, creating a sort of odd platformed staircase going downwards. That was enough to unearth the rampaging creature, fur a flash of black and white, that must have been-


    "Whiskers!" shouts Lukas, no longer very clean or cute, eyes closed from the sudden bright lights. The boy still hanging on to the fur of a badger skunk thing the size of a decked out lawnmower.


    "What are you waiting for!? Get the child already!" yells out the recruitee, sounding hoarsely out of breath.


    Grampa calmly looked up to the platform, surely making eye contact with some of the viewers. An unspoken conversation going on between them. A beat passes, then another, and none of the other recruitees take a single stop. Grampa breaks the steady tension with an easy shrug and smirk. His downward thumb making a sharp cutting motion in front of his neck, then he''s gone.


    "Now that''s most definitely not house trainable Lukas." he laughs, rescuing the stubborn kid in a blink.


    Not that Lukas needed any rescuing from how he awwed over the fluffy oversized garden pest. It was more like how you pull a child away from a public playground because it was time to go home. Not that any of these newbies knew that, even if they witnessed the monstrous kid dig the hole that started this entire fiasco.


    Unless they were scouted out personally by someone watching, I think there''s been a lot of failure gradings today. Which is honestly fine, it''s not like we''re lacking people in here.


    "Did I do all that?" Lukas asks out loud, surveying the plowed up land when grampa brings him back down over to us.


    "Actually no, not this time buddy." grampa ruffles his messy hair, trying to clean up as much dirt off as possible. As if he could make him presentable again before Gable catches them. Yeah no, that wasn''t happening.


    "I''m never going to get a fluffy am I?" the boy pouts, looking sadly on to where...uh, Whiskers, as been ...eliminated? Yeah, lets go with that term.


    From where I stand, Lilyanne pops up and down clapping at the great show. Cheering and chattering for Grampa. Oh she''s going to grow up so messed up at this rate.


    "Did you want a pet?" Amar yells out as they approach.


    "Of course I do! But Rosa''s not floofy or cute and she yells too much! She also comes with the stinky biting one!"


    What?!


    I look over directly behind my shoulder to see exactly why I didn''t go flying when Grampa flew off. The toddler leash is still very much strapped on me, but the handle now held up high in Amar''s little hand.


    "Ah haha Rosa does yell a lot. But I think Lilyanne''s getting better with biting, right? Did you check look, smell and taste if you can bite it?" laughs the other kid, his other free hand patting my head like a stupid pet dog while he talks down to Lilyanne.


    Excuse you?!!


    "Uh huh! Liwli listwen and check all of dem! Lilwi smarties girl now! Find funny pasta!"


    "Was it still alive?"


    "Oh! Noooooo, um Lilwi don''t know. Dancy funny in my mouth."


    "Oh. You should kill it first. That way it doesn''t get mad and eat you from inside your tummy to escape?"


    "Pasta eat Lilwi? Liwliw eat pasta no no no!"


    "Uh huh. If it''s still alive? Then it will crawl out by destroying you like that there." he points to the wrecked scenery, prompting my twin to start clutching her tummy and cry.


    "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!! No no, no want broken belly! Rosa save me!!! Grampapa!!!"


    I feel something else crack, my sanity.


    If I can''t get the leash off I will use it to attack. Strangle. No escape. Dirt and burial graves already conveniently here. I will murder the meaning of respect into these brats. It''s not child abuse if I''m a smaller child. What the hell did you all call me!?! What are you teaching my impressionable little sister?! Who''s the yelling uncute pet?! I''ll show you uncute and yelling!


    "Alright kiddos, no violent sparring to the near-death without supervision because everyone else said so. That and we need to get this all cleaned up." grampa takes back the leash handle, activating the option that shortens and retracts me to his side.


    Curses. Curse anyone and everyone involved with toddler leash! Make it illegal. Ban it!


    I fume and stew back in my spot in the crook of Grampa''s arm. Even if I''m still visible wherever he goes, if I stay carried here, no one will realize right away that I''m tied on a stupid leash.


    I''m a toddler, not a puppy dog or a stupid cat!


    No one show this to any of my parents. I have a feeling they''ll use it on me without a moment''s hesitation. This is a very cruel world.


    "Not bad there." grampa stops, standing before a weary woman.


    It''s the one the yelled before. She''s still catching her breath but stays standing with the help of her spade. Dark brows on a fawn face, with darker stubborn eyes looking up to me, at grampa from under her tightly wrapped bandana and partial veil. The peeks of long but smooth dreadlocks tied back there. She''s obviously filthy but underneath the layers of dust I can''t help but to marvel at her clothes.


    They''re a bit foreign, as many things are around here, and not a particularly high-quality material or anything. But the sleeves, her sleeves are stitched and sewn on whole! They look flawlessly whole!


    Oh I''m so tired of women''s dresses with separate sleeves. Why is that a thing here? Why can''t we have clothes with all the pieces and parts already there? Is it really that hard? And pants! She''s wearing pants underneath there!


    Hey, where did you get your clothes at? Where should I be recruiting for seamers and tailors? Grampa, finish up soon I can question her. It''s clear we have different purposes. Sure sure ask about mine craft earthbending or some tragic sob story, I''m trying to save and salvage mother''s wardrobe.


    Under the pressure of grampa''s stare rather than mine, she makes to bend the knee. Still using the spade to support herself in a proper bow.


    "It is an honor, to stand in the presence of heroes. The Great. All the most splendid statues do little justice in your visage and tell nothing of your true prowess. May peace and your glory reign under your grace for generations to come. " she kneels with a straight back, her respectful greeting well-spoken instead of simply memorized and recited from somewhere.


    Suspicious, but not the strangest we get coming to these gates. Not a farmer''s daughter that''s for sure.


    "That boy is clearly stronger than you" he indicates to her weakened state, noting but brushing off the flattery. "yet you still came to his aid. Why?"


    "....Twas a child, your greatness."


    "A child already in a much better circumstance than yourself. Who cares? It''s not like he''s one of your family members. Be honest. "


    The woman grips her skirt and the spade, knuckles going white.


    "....I don''t...make it a hobby...to go about saving children. Your greatness is correct, he is not of my own...but he was a child. Right in front of me. Children, little boys especially, get into the most ridiculous nonsense. They run from their baths, climb things they shouldn''t, and hurt themselves all over. That one just...didn''t get hurt yet. It''s better to prevent than regret. "


    "Hmmm, you sound like you had much experience with that. Judging by you age and behavior, I guess you....matchless."


    Oh my god, grampa you did not just call a young lady single to her face?! Curses. I curse you. I curse you on behalf of all womenkind. You will never find a wife in this lifetime. Not like that wasn''t already obvious but still. Curses.


    Whoever you are I am so so so sorry for him. I just can''t interfere at this point. It''s not my place nor do I have the power to do so.


    "I...was a maid...once. Saw to my lady''s child."


    "A lady''s maid. One that can move the earth? A strange combination is it not?"


    "It is this strangeness that finds myself here, and not by my lady''s side."


    "We all have a past. What matters now....is if have what it takes to fight? To kill? Even though you clearly lack strength?"


    The eyes that looked up were slightly bloodshot, dark pupils stinging. A stubborn look full of determination, the kind that grampa approves of. He doesn''t do wishy-washy, people who expect a savior. Those are for the innocents, the masses. To cross the gates of the troops is to give that up, to be beyond that.


    "I should have died many times throughout these years. I''ll pay them back in full with my life. Give me the chance to fulfill my debts. " she grits, looking fierce.


    Grampa nods lightly, dropping what looks to be a metal pin at the woman. A brooch of sorts. She pauses, eyes wide in shock, before gingerly taking it into her hand and bowing her head once again.


    A pass. A recruit has passed on to the probationary period.


    "Not bad. I''m getting on in years and perspectives change, there are many kinds of strengths. We need a few more like you around. Now ...it looks like my little pumpkin here is curious and has some questions on her mind. Don''t mind her fast mouth. She''s a troublemaker herself, almost as bad as that cute kiddo back there. "


    I smack grampa for that remark. While I''m a bit surprised he could tell it doesn''t mean he has to call me out like that. Talk about rude!?


    "Grampa don''t be *smack samck* so *smack* rude! Please don''t mind him, he''s a very crazy old man. All the rumors are never enough, he''s worse. Thank you for stepping up and ending today''s incident. My name is Rosalia Therese Ventrella, and to what shall we call you?"


    I would curtsey but uh, it''s a lot taller and a little less shameful to stay in grampa''s arm than to show the toddler leash. I wonder if I should try burning it off next?


    The now official recruit makes to stand to answer, already pinning on the pass brooch. However, as soon as she does, she stumbles, falling down to both her knees with a great tremble. Eyes wide not on me, or even grampa, as if looking past us. I see it as she visibly pales, bringing a shaking hand to her mouth.


    "Are you alright?!"


    She pulls herself together quickly in an overly low bow, but her face the moment before was as if she was ready to cry in fright. There''s nothing in the field behind us. Nothing but some land damage to be cleared away. Close by some bad kiddy influences distract my little sister, possibly making her cry some more about worms.


    Perhaps....is she someone out to scout for my sister?A little early for that but it''s always worth being careful.


    A lot has already changed in this lifetime.


    "Caspara! My name is Caspara!" she shouts, voice harsh and loud. Practically screams it, drawing attention down to her bowing form.


    "It''s Caspara!!!" she repeats.


    "Very well then," grampa nods, "take a good rest, you''re weaker than you think and there is no shame in that. The medics shall see to you. Another day, my Rosa and Lily just may come to play"


    He turns to take me away, whistling for the boys to pull along Lilyanne. Walking us back inside the walls. Ready for clean up and a proper lunch.


    When I look back over, I still see her on the ground. I think she''s crying. Shaking in sobs, overflowing in tired frustration, relief, and maybe joy.


    It''s a complicated but not an uncommon sort of scene here at the troops. This is a very strange place full of strange people. A lot of stories hiding back in here.


    -----------------------------

 112 On to Pasta

    "Mix the wet ingredients in, add just enough flour to hold the pasta together. Too much and it will take too long to cook. It will either be undercooked or dissolve in the pot." Georgie instructs.


    My little arms are exhausted and cramping. So I tag out and sit in the kiddy corner with Amar to simply watch this next part. Today''s juice is tart cherry, ahh so much more refreshing and tasty when iced. I''m alive again.


    With his bare hands, a flour-covered Lukas mushes the edible playdough in the side bowl while Georgie leads. My sturdy full-body aprons getting the test run in the kitchen both normal and kiddy size.


    Much more covered and useful than those excuses of costume aprons here. It comes with pockets! If the cut and design are oddly stylishly modern as well...that is my generous contribution to this world.


    The most important thing is if they''re useful on protection and against messes.


    The table is covered in a fine flour.


    Pasta making is hard work, even the simplest kind of dough dumplings. There are no instant packages or ready-made stuff to pick up at the supermarket. Chemical food preservatives haven''t been developed. Even premade items in markets can only keep for a few days at most. If you want pasta you really have to make the pasta from scratch.


    Easier said than done. Ratios are hard, especially with the recipe changes per type of pasta. There''s so many. The steps to making gnocchi are very different compared to slurpable noodles and so forth.


    Georgie leads the kiddy cooking class with patience and free time of no other employee. Separate bowls and piles of pasta dough scattered about. It''s very admirable how he memorized these things. I''m much older than him, my judgment is very impartial and honest. Chefs really have it hard in this world with no units of measurements, supermarkets, or online recipes.


    Contrary to all the things my hardworking unofficial assistant does or is forced to do, he is still technically a jr. cook.


    "Jr.? I''m an adult already you brat!"


    "Ah. I forgot that you''re an ''adult''. So you''re an official cook now, huh. You just look so young and babyish still. Right guys?"


    "Uh huh, you don''t feel like an adult. " Amar sips on juice.


    "You''re still cool right now Georgie but watch it!" Lukas points with a sticky doughy hand.


    Georgie gives me, all of us, a look. One of pure disrespect, probably thinking unholy curses about ''brats''. Ah good help is just so hard to find when you''re three.


    It can''t be helped, he''s just a teenager. His awful mouth is calling me a brat but I''m the one who can''t see another other than a brat. I''m so much older than all of them in here. He''s just a baby.


    "Adults are weird! Georgie don''t run to be an adult!" adds in Lukas.


    "I heard you can''t be an adult till you can grow a full beard all over your face?" questions Amar, lies under his tongue.


    What an awful thought. I''m working on skincare not beard care! Huh, but I suppose I shouldn''t discriminate against facial hair growing customers. Beards are a popular thing for many men? I know a lot of the troop members could use a good barber to neaten up. Or just more soap in general.


    Urg, no no no my modern sensibilities.


    "Sacrilege! Georgie, you are forbidden from growing a horrible beard on that soft tender face I worked so hard on. I see your skin daily so I know you can''t just yet but you know what I mean. "


    "Seeeee you''re like us, you don''t even have your adult hairs yet!"


    "...."


    Wisely Georgie does not answer back to that. Just don''t. Sure you could refute that, but do you really want to? Have the body hair talk? Against these kiddies? Besides this is not the kind of talk I want to have tainting pasta.


    I''ve not only been craving noodles lately, but I''d like it to stick into my sister''s head what is pasta and what is not. Not I say!


    It''s not that I''ve been excused from father''s schedules lessons today to escape to the kitchen, not exactly.


    Rather I took my dear absolutely free twin by the hand this morning and walked her to father''s office quarters. Slamming the door to whatever maybe shady meeting he was covering up, I sat her down by his polished leather shoes and demanded he make her smarter.


    If anyone can do it, it has to be the nerd. I give.


    It''s only fair given the amount of homework I get right? Strike! I''m striking until we get a better distribution of homework.


    I''m not just being petty from a lifetime of memories showing unfair work distribution. Really now, I don''t blame Lily at all of missing out on ....practically everything, due to her chronic illness. Lilyanne could do whatever she likes so long as she was happy and healthy. Physical activity was out of the question, that''s too dangerous. Ooooooh no, boring lessons gave her headaches, oooh no she''s feeling faint. Words are too hard to read. Time for bedrest against the perils of scrolls and books.


    Fine! Okay, there''s a bit of resentment there. Just a bit of it with a healthy reasonable load of envy.


    Well haha, I solved problem one. Her health!


    No one saw that coming, not even myself. I''m still frustrated over that honestly. This body shouldn''t be any different, anti-magic and all. It''s just my soul and memories that''s the joke here. On behalf of Rosalia, I slam my head in frustration occasionally. Probably more than is healthy.


    Also on behalf of her, I shall berate Lilyanne''s education where she understandably failed. Starting early, with no sick notes.


    Seriously nerd, do something about her. Please. Do your job parenting. I don''t know and don''t care how just train her! The bar is already very low in my memories of her and has gotten even lower given her recent toddler behavior.


    Contrary to what some awful people, usually men, say, ignorance is not a virtue. Not for women, not for anyone.


    So thus, after I berated father for a quarter of an hour this morning, perhaps with a room of amused nerds and architects, I left my ward in his care with a lighter conscience. A strike I say! I refuse any more homework until Lilyanne makes some progress. She may be three but she''s not getting away with it again.


    It''s just not fair.


    "Rosa? That''s 3 cups already. Rosa you''re drinking all the juice too fast again." Amar pokes at me, worriedly sliding the pitcher away from my reach.


    "It''s my house and my juice."


    But I concede for I do have a slight habit of unconsciously drinking more when mad or thinking about something. Everything goes down like water. It''s a good thing this is juice and not say alcohol.


    Cherry wine is also very good, this season''s juice will vat and mature well. The cherry wine here is very nice from Rosalia''s memories. The troops and locals made lots of good fruit brews. From ports to brandies, so very yummy.


    Because he is rude and undisciplined, the minion not on mixing duty fearfully slides the juice pitcher even further away from me. As if I were some juice-aholic fiend.


    "Alright, that should do it. See the consistency? That''s what you need for linguine type pasta, the ''noodles'' that Rosalia likes." guides Georgie, drawing attention with stretching out the yellow egg yolk infused dough.


    "I like the gnocchi better." pipes up Lukas.


    "And that''s why we already made and ate those." patiently reminds Georgie.


    "But it was so little!"


    "We''re making more. You kids demand too much."


    "Soooooo little, we''re hungry. That''s why Rosa and Amar are fighting over juice because we''re so huuuungry. There was no bacon."


    "After this, I''ll release all you little pigs to make your own pasta ok?!"


    Lukas sighs but nods along with the rest of us.


    Pasta is a little bit like juice or alcohol, it just all goes down so easily. The simple carbs seemingly disappearing in the black holes of hungry mouths and growing bodies. Those pasta samplers earlier really were too little, as tasty as the variety was. They only makes one feel even hungrier.


    "Hurry up and finish then!"


    "Alright alright we''ll cut them up at this point. Normally they''re only supposed to be a certain length-"


    "I want them long." I interrupt, repeating my request.


    "Yes Rosalia, we know you want them long. Rosa no get away from that knife. Rosa no!"


    Well that''s that, no chop chop for me. Somehow Georgie doesn''t trust a toddler with a knife. Responsibly smart but inconvenient how I''m forced with supervision and the metaphorical kiddy gloves at all times. I can handle a knife just fine, have you seen what grampa puts me through?


    "Oh oh oh can I do it?!" waves Lukas, still sticky with flour and egg.


    Georgie looks down with a great exaggerated sigh, stressed from the last few hours of fun times in the kitchen. The boy looks like he could use a good plate of pasta himself, maybe another face mask.


    You''re too young for stress wrinkles Georgie!


    "I trust exactly one of you with a kitchen knife." he deadpans, giving up at wiping flour off his face.


    "Awwww ok fine. Oh oh oh another of my tooth is loose. I''m going to get my adult teeth faster than all of you!" Lukas tags out, switching with Amar.


    For some odd reason, Amar takes the cherry juice pitcher with him, getting it even further away from me. Hey, what gives?!


    With one hand, Georgie flicks my forehead to sit me back down much to Lukas'' obnoxious laughter. Apparently approving of cutting me off on the juice supply.


    Everyone here is just so rude. It''s hard to believe I was a feared villainess once a lifetime ago. All you low-level mobs are so lucky I''ve been reborn with another oh so generous persona. Especially you Georgie!


    In another life, I suppose he would have moved on elsewhere for employment sometime after his adulthood ceremony and becoming a strong enough cook. I don''t recall his name on the employment list after Rosalia became the acting lady of the household. Not that it really matters, I just guess that means sometimes between now in 7 years in the future, he will leave this villa for other better prospects.


    It''s true he''s a pretty average sort of boy. Nothing very extraordinary, except maybe that he makes a divine risotto. As useful as he is to me, it''s not like I picked him up with some prior cheat knowledge of who he will be.


    It''s just that he was the only one nice enough, or free enough, to play with a demanding baby that kept sneaking into the kitchens.


    Watching him now feels odd, hands guiding a little kid on how to chop up pasta just right. Laughing, getting frustrated, biting his lip and blowing flour off his nose. It''s hitting me that he''s just a kid, high school age, making his own way in the world alone.


    I heard his parents are still alive. He just doesn''t talk about it. A lot of people don''t talk about a lot of things.


    Wasn''t I the same?


    What was I doing when I was that age? Where was I living all alone? I was still in school wasn''t I, even though I was lucky enough to skip some grades? It feels like a stressed-out blur. I was always worried about something. All the coursework, keeping my scores up to apply for the money I did, just the daily money management of living alone. It''s hard for anyone but something about it really felt unfair when you''re just a teenager.


    Mobs always have it tough. I get it because I was one. Life is filled with the majority of people like us. It''s no fairytale.


    Even now that I''m a supposed rich villain sort of character, I just don''t get it. How sometimes the world just sets you up to lose. To blurr and be forgotten.


    I wonder if I''ve been forgotten yet.


    I wonder if everyone has forgotten me yet.


    I guess my parents...I bet they''re still pissed I died before them. Can''t show any more fiel piety with my paychecks if I''m dead yo. Ahaha ah I kid, I kid, there''s my nasty sense of humor again. It''s just my brother that has no choice but to really remember me.


    Can''t lie, even as a ghost I''d be pretty pissed if he doesn''t offer me food and light me an incense stick once in a while.


    I want to eat his fried noodles again, even it was oily as hell. I also miss mom''s cooking, all the recipeless Chinese noodle soups, even when she nagged at me the whole time. Ah, I really miss Mrs. Parks cooking, and she''s even scarier. I miss a lot of things. It wasn''t all bad, the hard life of another mob.


    I just....kind of still feel bad. Like I left a lot of debts still unpaid to too many people.


    Which is odd, since I''m sure I didn''t owe anyone money. It''s a very annoying sort of nagging feeling like I''m forgetting something very important.


    Which is also very silly. Nothing regarding me is important, not anymore. It''s all over.


    The dead hold no debts.


    Right?


    "How about this one? Let''s go eat at this one on my next day off!" a girl holds out her smartphone.


    "Hmmm?"


    The phone screen was way too close to his face, but rather than push it away he pulled her in closer with the phone.


    "The whole list?" he squints.


    "No. This one, geez did take out your contacts already?" she taps, not minding much of anything.


    Jung-Joon nodded, pulling in the girl until she was mostly settled in his lap, getting himself comfortable on the couch. He yawned, feeling the fatigue of too much school work and not enough well anything else. He could knock out, but then Meng wouldn''t come bothering. Not that she would ever be a bother, as he said time and time again.


    "Uh huh. So show me properly." he mumbled, trying to charge up as much as possible. As much as she would let him. This was nice. This sort of peace in between. It was almost domestic.


    "Put on your glasses you dork."


    "Too far, besides I don''t need them all the time." he waves off, hanging on.


    "I''ll go get them then, where did you leave them?"


    When she makes to get off, strong arms only pull her back in again, all the way down. It was a little frustrating how much larger and stronger he''s gotten than her over the years. But that was good for a growing boy Meng supposes. He wouldn''t be as popular if he was a shortie like her.


    "It''s fine, show me." he lazily mumbled on the top of her head, arranging them together to view the smartphone screen.


    "Ahhh are you feeling shy about them? Did a pretty girl at school make fun of them? But you''re so cute with them on. Ohhh should I go teach her ass a lesson and proclaim the Megane guy goodness? We can show her your brother''s picture, that will work." Meng teased, reaching up to pat at his cheek.


    Something Jung-Joon retaliated by pinching back at hers.


    "Are you calling him hotter than me?"


    "Absolutely. You''re a brat and he makes a much better glasses guy. You could never and everyone know it."


    "Ah, he does have the twisted personality trope spot on."


    "Let go of my face you little shit. Ow ow, you''re going to make it uneven!"


    "Sorry. Your cheeks are just so soft, it''s kinda fun. Should I kiss it better?"


    Without waiting for an answer, he quickly leans down, aim spot on. Only for his nose, lips and front teeth to be met with the blunt cold surface of a smartphone. Meng giggles at the groan of pain, not minding how vengeful arms tightened around her. She was busy laughing, turning her weapon back on to the right app.


    "Stop messing around. This one, don''t the pictures look so good?"


    "That was mean," Jung-Joon complained, much like a child. Burying his injured face and pride back in her hair. Resting his head in the delicate side of her neck. She let him get away with a lot more that way, when he sounded younger, like the years before. It was a double-edged weapon.


    "Stop being a big baby, come on, look look. I''ll pay this tme ok~ Ah it just looks so pretty!"


    Jung-Joon peeked over, more content to stay right there than to go out anywhere or to look at the contents scrolling on the screen. It wasn''t exactly quiet or intimate, with the voices and noise coming from downstairs. The television was on, his family was definetly clattering around. They could come up any moment, ruin his recharge time as they like. But it was enough. Staying just like this was enough. He''ll take whatever he can get.


    "Really pretty," he agrees, looking up in the wrong direction.


    "Right? All the plating is done so well. Just look at the aesthetic of this place," she turns the screen so he could get a better look.


    "Pasta? Is that what you''re craving now?"


    "Modern Italian! Waaah it looks so fancy. The lunch specials sound like a good deal, and we can split another dish. Ah but do we really want to split dessert? Hmm no, no we definitely don''t. "


    "We? Just us?" he smiles warmly, taking a good look at her phone for the first time. Attention previously much elsewhere, more on the peaceful present. The supposed near future plans too far away, but it didn''t sound so bad. Especially when it made Meng happy.


    "Hmm yeah, it looks really good. Like a nice date spot, you''re going to have to dress up real pretty for me too. Ok?"


    "Don''t be rude. I always look cute. Say it." she jabs at his chest, hoping it hurts.


    It does. It always does.


    "You''re cute, you''re always cute. I can''t take it. Let''s go on a date soon." he laughs through the pain, nuzzling tight.


    Meng can''t put her finger on it. Why she wants him to look straight up so she can see those eyes, with or without his glasses on. Can''t figure out why sometimes lately that dizzying laugh makes her feel how bittersweet must tastes. The pulse underneath her fingertips was warm, beating too fast in tune to hers. It makes her think of things she shouldn''t and beats hollow, echoes of something painful.


    Something was wrong, and it would be foolish to think something as simple as pasta could fix it.


    But what else could she do?


    Awkward was weird. It was wrong. She wouldn''t do that, wouldn''t ever risk that. Not with him.


    "Right?!" she leans in, pretending all was fine. Just like it''s always been because this was fine. This was normal. Why wouldn''t it be? "Let''s go soon. Look, there''s a wine bar that''s-"


    "And that should do it!"


    Georgie sets the knife down with a clatter, scooping up the fresh cut pasta with some effort. When I look down, it''s not a smartphone but an empty juice cup in my pudgy little hands.


    My tummy feels hollow but I''m not really hungry anymore. Strange.


    "This size should be about right, unless our young miss has any further demands for the day. Rosa? Rosalia?"


    "Rosa?"


    "Did you fall asleep with your eyes open again Rosa?! You''re all quiet and weird and stuff."


    I look up to see three set of eyes on me and my silence. Green, gray, and even brown.


    Georgie''s common brown eyes are light as a nut cake, pleasant and mildly sweet. My mother''s are those of tumbled smooth genuine amber gems, perhaps with a surprise inside should you wish to pry. My grandfather''s are the deepest pools of brown. They remind me of sunken chests best left undiscovered and a line of fizzy darkening malty beer flights, promising good and bad times all rolled in one night.


    None are dark enough. Boring, everyday, nothing special, dark brown I used to see all the damn time. Brown so dark you think you were looking at the other side of the moon. None are the dark sparkling night sky and devastating black holes in them, full void, coffee served straight and piping hot just like he liked.


    I must be crazy to still be seeing them when I close my eyes. In the back of my sight. I must be crazy to even be looking. Maybe I''ve already gone crazy when I died? Maybe I''m even crazier than the old man and just better at denying it?


    "It''s fine. That''s fine. We can start cooking now. I''m really hungry. Can I have more juice now?"


    Can it be changed into wine? Can it help me forget? Forget this thing I don''t even know what it is?


    My cup is filled before I even blink. I think pollen and allergies are upon us this season because my eyes feel very irritated when I do. Wetness already pooled at the rims.


    "Sorry," says Amar, sounding guilty.


    He should be, stealing my juice supply like that.


    "Rosalia are you really crying for food? Geez, really? Ah there, I don''t expect anything from a brat, especially one as spoiled as you, there there."


    Georgie picks me up like a pile of dough, not caring about getting flour all over me and my clothes. It completely defeats the purpose of making a tiny sized apron.


    "I''m not. I can''t control what happens when I''m hungry okay?" I rub my eyes dry, feeling the warmth of shame slightly rise to my face. Especially as Georgie rubs my back like he''s calming down a child with a tantrum.


    "Crrrrrrry baaaaby" whispers Lukas, still loud no matter what.


    "Am not." I refute, mildly miffed in Georgie''s hold.


    "Yeeeees you are."


    "Nooo I''m not."


    "YEeeeeeesssss you are!"


    The annoyance of this strangely familiar banter actually distracts me from the unknown sadness welling up inside me. Unexpected but fine job little minion.


    "Are you good enough for me to set down now Rosalia? We can get to boiling and you all can eat faster." pats Georgie.


    His arms and hands feel so large when I''m so small, despite him just being a brat. A brat that''s technically an adult in this world. How awful.


    "I wasn''t even crying in the first place." I feel my head shaking. "Put me down already."


    "Alright ." despite what he says, he bounces me lightly for a minute more, still trying to comfort me to the point I feel my eyes rolling.


    "Put me down, I''m not a baby. I''m fine. Get to pasta making already."


    "Sure. Whatever you say young miss Rosalia, the demanding," announces Georgie in a mock regal voice, finally setting me back my seat.


    "Told you we was all super hungry! You have to feed her the blood, Georgie."


    "...."


    "....that''s juice you brat."


    "Blood juice!"


    Alrighty then, Lukas has done his job to full distraction. I have no idea what just happened but it''s over now and I have my cherry blood juice back. Great.


    Almost silently Amar pushes over freshly cut pasta dough, made even thinner during the time Georgie was supposedly calming me down.


    "Sorry."


    I have threatened everyone scared shitless with my random tantrum. I can feel their fear for me increase in the utterly wrong way. This power is meaningless without respect but power is power and I am a tiny pathetic basically normal human.


    "Pull them longer and thinner," I demand, despite the noodles being adequate.


    "Ok." nods Amar, the kid strangely obedient. Great, now how do I train them like this all the time without sacrificing my pride?


    "Make them chewier, pull."


    "Ok."


    "I changed my mind, they''re too long now. Cut them shorter"


    "Ok."


    "But not too short it''s ugly. Roll and pull more."


    "Ok?"


    "It''s because you took the blood juice away from the crybaby." taunts Lukas


    "Sorry," squeaks Amar softly, to the point I almost feel bad for him. Just almost.


    "We''re out of bacon in this kitchen" I snap back at the other minion.


    Now it''s Lukas''s turn to be rocked and comforted by Georgie. The hiccuping panic and cries caused by just the thought of no bacon. Who''s the cry baby now?


    Power is power. Even if it''s petty.


    Still pretty sweet, I sip today''s juice in satisfaction. Let''s get to work already. I really do want to eat pasta. We can even plate it all as pretty as a picture. I''ll even be generous and show you how.


    ---------------


    --------


    Bonus: Aftermath Judging


    --------


    ----------------


    "When I said you three little piggies could make your own, I meant plates. Plates! Not....this!!!" Georgie nearly screams himself hoarse, hand waving to the mess that some poor employees will be left to clean up after.


    Thank goodness for my citrus peel dish soap to make the job much easier.


    Personally I believe there is no such thing as too much pasta. Even where there is too much pasta. No such thing.


    "I see no issue." I look away.


    "Of course there is too much!?!!"


    "Nope. Don''t see it. Boys?"


    "What''s too much food? What does that look like?" asks Lukas, honestly ignorant on the limits to the human stomach.


    "Needs more stuff." Amar contemplates, for the child likes his variety.


    "Ah that''s right. Georgie, be a dear and bring out some condiments from storage and bread in the main kitchen. Hmm, the hard cheeses for shredding."


    "Are there bacon condiments?" adds in Lukas.


    "No." I bluntly shut him down.


    Like his epic battles with anything, including my overpowering mother, he just refuses to stay down.


    "Well why not?!"


    "Because."


    "Because why?!"


    "Because....?"


    "Salted cured bacon doesn''t need anything else to keep it." finishes Amar, much to Lukas''s satisfaction.


    "I knew it! Bacon is the best." the fair little blond nods, praising the fatty meat.


    I wonder if he knows not all meat is categorized as bacon. I decide I do not care. Georgie is still imitating a famous painting in another world, The Scream.


    "I leave for how long to bring you your ''judges'' and you do what?! Use up all the pasta and, oh lord how much butter? It''s gone isn''t it? All the butter in this place is just gone. And-" rambles Georgie.


    "Yep! Not enough butter!" admits Lukas with no shame.


    "That it is." I agree, really can''t be helped with all the pasta we made.


    "It was going to go bad anyway? You don''t really store it?" Amar''s head tilts the other way, as if vaguely remembering something.


    "How do you store butter besides salting and the cold rooms?" I ask, lamenting the shortness of food preservation here in general. Life is realistically very hard in the past, even with magic. It''s just not a fair substitute.


    "Jars?"


    ".....The container changes nothing dough head."


    "Um, you boil it slow? And only use the middle layer in the pot? Definitely not the chunky part on top."


    "That sounds weird but I''ll eat it still!"


    "Boil butter and just use ...."


    It hits me like a loose waterwheel thrown by none other than grampa.


    Clarified butter! Oh my lord we could have been storing clarified butter all this time?! That''s just pure golden butterfat with a higher temperature threshold while the storage and shelf life is just- AAfkdsdjlkf.


    I''m very overwhelmed right now. I also just feel very dumb right now.


    If we could store butter fats for the long term, that''s really going to make things a lot easier. It would greatly ease any famines. Fats are necessary for the body to absorb nutrients. No lube jokes intended. I have to tell father. Grampa. We need to start making stores of this shit in addition to our oils. From the sheeps, the mutant milky goats, doesn''t matter, it''s a long-term storage item! It''s not even hard to make?! Curse this backward vaguely medieval foreign world for drawing me into its pace! How did you all not think of something this simple?


    "Is Rosa broken again? She''s getting all muttery. Is she gonna cry again?!"


    "I don''t know?!"


    "Well okay! It''s okay because I know my pasta is the best so you should cry and you can all go nap now."


    "But all you do is add bacon Lukas. You can''t win like that?"


    "Uh huh I can! It''s the best and I''m the best."


    "Are all you crazies flipping done? Can we eat yet?" comes the new arrival in the doorway.


    Yuna barges in, grumpy yet cool looking as ever, but he''s certainly sniffing the air all around. Nervously my little plain maid Abbey shivers somewhere behind Georgie, trying to calm him down in his ranting.


    Oh goodie, the minions in training are assembled for now.


    "Ahem, you can all eat first but then it must be plated and passed out. Georgie can send the portions to my family but you two are in charge of the rest of the kitchen and staff. Sample them out and tally up the points correctly alright?"


    "Ye-yes Miss. Rosalia." immediately responds my maid.


    "Did you not hear a single thing I just said!?" yells Georgie. Who honestly may have just ranted through my Rosalia translation filter system.


    It was very busy thinking of potential and application of clarified butter even in non-famine circumstances. Hmmm what about coconut oil? Should we work focus on the coconut supply down south as well? Ramp up and extend the road construction projects? Huh is Georgie still talking about something?


    "Yeah yeah, we got it fancy pants. Let''s get to it, I''m hungry. Show me what you brats got this time." grins Yuna.


    I feel myself holding my nose even though there''s no way a nosebleed would start just from that.


    Ah he''s just a brat, even younger than Georgie. Who actually cleaned up quite nicely and has a certain lovely charm to him but there''s something feral and just so naturally attractive about Yuna. Especially when he grins like that, full of confidence and sass. Good job me. Good job on scouting this absolute diamond of a roughling. He''s going to break so many hearts. He''s going to make me so much money modeling for my future projects.


    Cuteness may rule the world but hotties definitely help. Very good job me.


    "Take your forks," I present to Yuna, motioning for him to go free on the selections. For some odd reason, the makes Abbey shake even more.


    It''s a fork, not a weapon. We have established this. It was one time!?


    There may be a mess here but it''s an organized mess ok? We just need help getting the meal spread out for proper judgment. For these minions, we have three plates set up for a nicer tasting. Rather than the mini mountains of part tray pasta back there.


    "This is the part where we''re supposed to shut up now right? But it''s really easy to find mine. It''s the best one!"


    "Yes now shut up. Amar stop laughing, I said stop snickering already."


    Lukas smiles too widely in his seat, far too excited about being proclaimed the winner. Oh the little fool, he knows nothing. For how can his obvious cheap bacon gnocchi compare to my refind tastes of multiple worlds?


    Meanwhile, Amar has that soft cute little smile on again, the one where I know he''s actually secretly making fun of us. How childish. Orecchiette? He only picked that because it''s called cat ears. Oh ho ho, I''ve got this in the bag.


    Really it''s no competition at all against these absolute children. But it''s fun once in a while.


    "Yeah that''s fat. Fat and good. I''ll get bored in a few minutes though." chews Yuna, shoveling gnocchi roughly into his mouth. He can intake more carbs than the others being an actual fighter.


    "Um...I like all stuff inside the dough. They''re fun to pop and eat. The bacon bits are crunchy." tastes Abbey, because you really can''t go wrong with a pasta like gnocchi.


    "Lukas....I''m just glad....you put spinach greens in here. Your mix is good....maybe...less salt since the bacon is already cured. The sheep cheese was a good choice. " Georgie sighs, unfortunately outing Lukas right away. Not like the bacon bits weren''t obvious. Despite claiming he wants no part in this, Georgie still eats and plays along.


    Lukas beams, and I see his little ego puff like a souffle. No matter, like an improper souffle it shall pop and deflate into a sad shell against what''s next.


    "Oh shit there''s a hell lot of shellfish in this. Oh shit this, oh you soaked this in some nice white wine. This is good pricey shit, move over."


    Yuna drops the gnocchi like it was yesterday''s trash for my linguine. Zooming straight to enjoy the perfectly steamed and pan-cooked seafood while twirling ribbons of the slurpable noodles. Ah now this is pasta.


    "Oh! Oh ho-how wonderful! I wouldn''t ever think mussels would go so well with tomatoes like this but it''s so fresh and lovely. The pasta chews *slurp* so yummy!"


    Amazing, pasta so good it''s temporarily cured Abbey''s stuttering.


    "Hmm it really is chewier when pulled out like this. Huh interesting? I''ll remember that. How much garlic is in the mussels? They were cooked separately definitely, the wine and butter work so well and is stronger in the seafood ....Rosalia did you use the overstove?! By yourself?!"


    "Shhhhh focus on the food. Keep talking about how great it is." I shush him.


    "You mixed at least two wines in this you little- which wines did you open?"


    "Ah so judgemental. Can''t be helped with such a studious little jr chef."


    "I''m an adult!"


    "Less talky more linguine."


    From my side, I hear a muffled giggling as Amar hold himself back. How childish. Really no different than Lukas deep down. But I do feel pity for the child, he is only waiting to lose now.


    Just look, the small batch of judges already slurped my plate down to the shells. While there''s still half the gnocchi on Lukas''s plate, Of course, I don''t discourage or make fun of the other child. I''m not so evil Merely grace him with me benevolence. Oh ho hoho.


    "You!!!" Yuna growls, surprising everyone. His canines bared and fork directly pointing straight to Amar.


    Somehow the child doesn''t look surprised at all, he tilts his head in a question but his calm smile and sleepy expression stays exactly the same.


    "Whatever stupid little kiddy game you''re all playing. You win. I''m taking all this now."


    What?


    WHAT?!!


    "But Yuna? You don''t have to take that plate? There''s more over there?" Amar points.


    "Don''t waste this on the others" talks Yuna with his mouth full, still shoveling green coated pasta down his mouth.


    "What did you poison Yuna with?!" I feel like interrogating the kid by his apron.


    "Nothing. Why would I poison anyone here?" he blows air out his nose and I feel the mockery in that helpless expression.


    "Tricks! Yuna doesn''t count because Amar tricked something and cheated again!" yells Lukas, backing me up.


    "Um..." interrupts my soft spoken little maid, trembling under the pressue " ...may I?"


    With an eye roll, Yuna gives up against the shy younger girl, handing down the plate so she may take a forkful of judgment. Rightful judgment.


    "Oh. It-it''s so soft! The orecchiette is-is so soft and te-tender. It smells so!!! It *sniff* smells *hic*really *sob* go-good*soob* ex-excuse me-eme!" my maid starts sobbing for no reason.


    Something that terrifies absolutely everyone.


    The power of a girl''s tears is an absolutely horrifying thing. Too powerful.


    After we get a hanky and a cup of juice for Abbey to calm herself down in, Georgie can actually make an assessment. Breaking us all out of the awkward mood.


    "Roasted pine nuts. Ground roasted pine nuts in the strongest scent here, followed by olive oil and basil. Abbey''s said her grandparents still live in a pine forest. It''s the pine nuts, and the pasta shape really soaks up the sauce. It must have made her homesick."


    "*sob sob* I-I''m s-so-so-sorry! *sob sob*"


    Before I can order her to calm down because there''s nothing to be sorry for, Amar shakily apologizes. Which makes Abbey apologize more, which in turn keeps Amar saying sorry and it''s a never-ending cycle of guilty sorries.


    "Sorry, I didn''t know it would make you cry. I''m sorry."


    "No-no, I''m sorry. I shouldn''t ha-have, you didn''t- it-it was really go-good *sob* it''s just *sob* reminds me-*sob sob*"


    "Sorry?!"


    "Cool, Amar you made two people cry today! Without fighting them! Whoa! Wait is it a crybaby thing?! Oh. Still it''s really strong, how did you do it?! Is it a secret technique? Did Vincent teach you?! I heard he makes babies cry without a word?!"


    "I really don''t know? I''m sorry?"


    "Shut up with the sorries! Who won?!" I snap, trying to bring things to order.


    Georgie shrugs, still refusing to participate. Abbey is emotionally wrecked and sobbing in a corner. Yuna is a biased and probably poisoned grump still eating the kinda pesto pasta that ruined everything.


    Guess we''ll just have to let everyone else taste to find out. Get to it minions!


    No not you Abbey, oh please stop crying? Please?! How do we stop a girl from crying? Fix this?!


    ---------------

 113 One normal lunch

    "Kyaaa~ Oh my!!! Oh my little preziosa~"


    There is a terrible scene in front of me. Absolutely horrible. Someone call child protective services. No, it''s not actually my mother terrorizing the minions.


    I think it just may be even worse than that.


    "Father....just...why? Are you really that free? " I somehow manage to form words.


    "So cuuuuuuute! Oh my my my our Lilyanne is practically a genius! Too cute!!!!"


    "When I said to make her smarter...this was not what I had in mind."


    "Cute cute cute!!! You''re doing AMAZING sweetie!!!! Oh ho ho ho Rosa dear, now don''t be copy rude habits with your mouth from your father~"


    "....Yes mother."


    Child protective services, please. Preferably to get me the high hell out of here before it''s too late.


    Strings pluck, playing a light and more than pleasant enough sound despite the monstrosity that is a harpsichord.


    The music in this world is generally quite....strange, to my sense of tastes. Anyone ever heard a Renaissance fair or some courtly movie background music? Yeah that, but worse. Somehow under the nerd''s control and pacing, played with those long piano fingers, it''s bearable. Shame he plays too little to sway this world to slightly less bad tastes. The beautiful lazy melody floating across the air and flowing out and down the balcony.


    It''s a lovely day, too fresh and lovely to be spent cooped up.


    However direct sunlight is bad for any lady''s skin and hair, especially my own. The long dining terrace provides the perfect combination of indoor and outdoors. A pleasant view of the family estate a few floors up, shaded patios with grape vines climbing around the marble columns, open space with a soothing breeze and no doors to block me from running back ''inside''.


    Right now ''inside'' is dangerously blocked by a dancing little monkey- oh wait no that''s just my twin sister.


    Like a trained monkey, Lilyanne totters along. completing a clumsy little choreographed dance in tune to father''s playing. At best it could be called adorable. Like a pre-school recital. At worst it''s the kind of funny stuff embarrassing parents put up on the internet for millions of strangers to laugh and coo at.


    Nothing too difficult. The music is rather simple, quite jolly, and utterly ridiculous in how well trained the little dancer is per tune.


    She hops and hops, kicking her feet up with a turn and quite possibly the most graceful curtsey she has ever performed in her life. All before falling over on her butt giggling when the music finally ends. The layers of fluff of her shorter than usual toddler dress poofed up to flash those scandalous poofy pumpkin undies.


    Oh the utter lack of shame and decorum made perfectly acceptable in how small and babyishly cute she is. I feel faint in indignation.


    Though that could be the lack of oxygen I''m getting in mother''s lap dog hold.


    The song and dance recital is over. Mother you can stop squealing now.


    Mother I would very much like to breathe again.


    Please have mercy on these tiny lungs, they cannot stand the force of being your pillow. I beseech thee mother, release me before my time is tragically cut short, forcing me to try my chances again at getting reborn. Hopefully in a less dangerous life.


    "Cute cute oh so cuuuuute! Who is my good girl? Lily sweetie, my little duckie! Oh bravissimo! Bravo! Freed, Frederick, my love, my darling, dearest gleam of my heart oh that was just wonderful!~ Bravo!"


    Who needs to wait for when I grow up? What are red flags, plots or schemes? I shall die here, nestled in the deadliest softness of my mother''s surprisingly strong arms and warm flesh.


    No pit of quicksand could compare nor any outside crushing force. I think the only worse fate is forced to humiliatingly dance along like Lilyanne or being crushed by a trash compactor. Oddly I hear the harsh crushing sounds now in my mother''s applause. Oh my ribs, my inner organs, my head? I cannot bear this weight of boobies.


    Goodbye cruel world. I only wished, to have partaken in one last supper.


    "What did I miss!?" comes a voice, striking down from the sky like lightning.


    Though it sounds more as if it''s climbing from over the balcony than anything. God is that you? Oh hell you actually exist? Damn have I really died? Why is your voice so annoyingly like that crazy old-


    "Papa! You missed it, our Lily sweet did the most wonderful adorable show of cuteness! Oh my to think my daughter could be so unbearably cute and ladylike!~ Oh of course, oh ho ho ho~ Darlings, do it again won''t you?"


    "That''s my girl! Excelling in all she does! Huh doesn''t look like Rosa found it too fun though, tuckered right out! Here here sleepy head, come to grampapa''!"


    Air! Blessed air! For once the hero actually delivers and rescues me from a most certain death. Oh sweet delicious air!


    "...my...hero...this is still all your fault." I huff.


    Pat pat pat. Very good, man boobies are a lot firmer, much less risk of suffocation. Pat pat pat. All my actions are excused due to the lack of oxygen in my brain.


    To think a man''s fit chest could be so satisfyingly comfortable? This is a very sublime level of squish against hard toned pectoral muscle. Pat pat pat. Unlike my mother''s softly sinking fresh mochi this is a roasted toasted mochi snack! Maybe on a stick with a brush of sweetened soy sauce or nutty miso paste? Grilled puffed up gohei mochi? Ahhh I miss that stuff, so yummy.


    Pat pat pat.


    "Papa....perhaps...I''m lacking in some aspect?" mother looks down to the empty spot in her cleavage where I almost perished. Her pretty head turning back and forth from her empty arms to the pillows on grampa, where I can actually safely breathe.


    "Absolutely not, mio dolce amore." father interrupts from behind his instrument, blank faced in all seriousness.


    As both her husband and an indecent perverted fiend, he goes ignored, as should be! With mother worriedly looking down at herself and back to her own father in comparison. As if there could be a comparison? On the floor Lilyanne rolls and rolls, giggling in tired happiness.


    This is truly a very strange family and I don''t think any world''s child protective services can take it on.


    "Of course not Maria, though I don''t know what we''re talking about." he tries looking down to where Mother glares but the dots simply do not connect, even with my helpful hints of pat pat pat. "But of course not! My baby girl can never lack for anything! What do you need?! Is Freddy bullying you on not providing enough!? No that can''t be right?"


    "I would never." father sounds insulted. So much so that he stops his playing with one hand to snap for the servants on standby.


    "Send the catalogs and lace samples to the lady''s boudoir for later. Order 30 more nightwear. Double, no triple the far east silk imports. And tell that scammer I''ll take the crystal swans, they''ll hang as my wife''s garden ornaments. "


    "What is it?! If it''s something money can''t buy tell papa'' all about it and I''ll get it no matter what!!!" grandfather passionately declares.


    No, no do not give mother any more than you already have. I''ll seriously die. It''s too much. Her bosom and closet are all too much.


    It doesn''t stop, the Ventrella menfolk continue to one up each other in their own special horrid ways.


    "Order more knotted jewelry from the northwest. Pastel pearls from the South East and unique freshwater specimens in the far south seas. The painted bone porcelain cups from those blasted ''other'' ports. Get the jeweled hairpins while we''re at it, the more delicate the better. "


    "Did you want more lessons? What subject? Anyone in mind baby girl?! I''ll send orders and if they dare refuse then I''ll beat and shit- I mean ship them over!"


    "A ship. My lady must have a personal ship yes, start construction in mind for a seafaring vessel strong and tastefully suitable to bear the honor of my wife''s name. Cost is no of concern of course. Make it light, fast, and of course beautiful."


    "Don''t sigh Maria, it''s too long of a wait isn''t it?! Too slow! We''ll send the hot air balloons on it. Gable! I''ll tell Gabe! Just tell papa what you want and where!"


    Despite the world being offered practically at her feet, mother still pouts. Cheeks pink and pretty. With a delicate hand she points straight to where I''m settled on grampa''s chest, then pats down at her own lap as if awaiting a teacup puppy or a toy doll.


    Oh no.


    Oh no she means me doesn''t she?


    Not again! Ahhhhhh!!! Lilyanne quick, do another dance and distract her! Grampa no, don''t put me down there! Noooooo. Not the-


    A sparkling gold coin goes flying in the air. It shines beyond compare and comes to me like the light of the sun. Only to directly fall into mother''s ....dress.


    Ah shit.


    *Sigh* The things I do for money.


    "Kyaa! Thank you darling~" coos mother, arms outstretched as I weakly crawl back to my prison.


    In her thanks, she blows disgusting kisses to father who receives the embarrassing gesture gracefully with a small bow in his seat. One hand still managing to play keys through it all. It should be cringe and awful, by all common sense it should be horrible. But the too smooth gesture of his bowing hand bringing empty fingers to merely touch solemnly upon his lips has me feeling faint all over again.


    I mean, ugh gross, damn nerd. Couples. Gag.


    Mother?


    Mother, did you faint?


    While I should be glad that a limp mother means easy breathing and less of this very unique training, I''m feeling a tad concerned here. Hello? Earth to mother?


    Lights are on I suppose, lit in a pink lovely dovey aura, but no one''s home. She''s quite offline.


    How terrifying. I can hardly imagine the sheer amount of brain damage that awful man has inflicted on her over the years. If Lilyanne has the face of an angel then her cursed father is the face of god''s most beautiful and once favorite one, fallen to rule the pits of hell. Such a fiend.


    That evil man is now playing another sonata, the pace faster and livelier for Lilyanne to swirl and twirl in yet another awfully adorable puppet dance.


    It''s not random movements, he actually has her trained a set dance per song? Why oh why?!


    "Awwwww! Thatta girl! Lily, you''re doing amazing, sweetie!" claps grampa along in tune.


    Why oh why am I getting a bad ringing of deja vu again. Or the somewhat sudden craving for bad modern T.V. shows? It''s the lack of entertainment probably.


    I went from having the internet at my disposal to ...this.


    At something that sounds like it''s being played in an ear-piercing A-minor, Lilyanne continues to hop and dance. I am far greater horrified than I am amused at this children''s programming.


    Part because the modern brain that is me is just shaking at how ridiculous it all looks.


    Part because the original is screaming at having to relearn or do any of this, again.


    No. No thank you. Oh no no no no no!


    As many a refined lady, Rosalia was forced to master many things. Dance being a very obvious one. From a young age, she was trained and practiced as not to shame herself in any public setting, including balls.


    A great problem being ....Rosalia...was not the best ...dancer.


    Is it really her fault?! I can''t blame her I mean just look at this shit?! Why couldn''t they do the Vienna waltz or some classy mood dancing, even those fancy pretty Jane Austen movies stuff? Nooooooo they river dance and clap around in Le Tourdion or the Volta or the 16 thousand other ''dances'' that honestly don''t look too different. There''s so many to memorize and what''s ''fashionable'' or trending changes faster than the waves at sea.


    There were businesses to run and get done, and people expected me of all people to learn how many hopping goat dances? Ha!


    Being the busy, resourceful but uh....gracefully...lacking girl that she was, Rosalia learned to dance much like a well-practiced recital. You know, memorize the one dance you have to do with your stupid mannequin of a prince partner, twirl around a bit in the public eye, then sit down and pat yourself on the back with some clotted cream and wine for a job well done.


    However, an even better job was finding all the excuses to tragically be unable to attend, let alone be forced to dance. They can''t judge or make you do shit if you don''t attend. What a brilliant girl I was sometimes. Oh ho ho ho~


    Oh but Lilyanne did love her balls.


    It actually doesn''t surprise me at all that she''s such a well-trained monkey dancer at this young age. Of course, the protagonist, the so called perfection incarnate, is the epitome of beauty and grace in every scene. Including what counts as the dance floor here, I guess.


    So many a fun times snapping the secret guards to either stop or simply escort the young lady Lilyanne back home from her ''sneaking out'' escapes to whatever dozen of hosted parties that season held. I may have even joined them in on a few occasions, in actual disguise of course and not whatever my admittedly not so bright sister did.


    Sure I didn''t need to go myself with the spy networks I had. But sometimes, you just have to go witness your fiance blatantly cheating on you with your sister in person.


    A live show is really much different. Very fun.


    It was actually very stress-relieving once in a while, for entirely different reasons than my sister so enjoyed!


    The best part was watching the stupid prince pine and cry is jealous frustration over Lilyanne basking in the natural attention. My stone cold lump of coal of a fiancee took a few years to become a proper ''domineering'' sort of prince that could effectively take the lead. Rather he would whine and and whine internally like a bad batch of wine, keeping sullen and eternally in an awful mood. Until he finally did something about it, say be a cheating bastard, Lilyanne was free to spin and twirl with everyone, suitor or not, who asked for a dance.


    Really what the hell did she see in the guy? There was like at least a handful of infinitely better options in comparison by her side? Ah, but those are stories I''ll think about for another day.


    Sometimes the original would send in a few plants, not only to keep Lilyanne safe but just for the fun of it. Handsome guard number 13 you''re up. Followed by flirty spy number 7. Or fake clumsy waiter number 33, off to spill and ruin some catty noblewomen''s outfits or bump the stupid prince in some awkward situations.


    Once she even managed to indirectly make the whole harem come to believe a ghastly lake spirit or had gotten their dear Lily one icy night. Ahh to have that stupid waterlogged fiancee of mine battle royale style getting beat up in a swarm was truly a wonderful memory to see and keep.


    How was I supposed to know they''re all mad enough to rushingly jump in like it was a race, without checking? Poor Lilyanne worried so much she fell ill with fever the next day but it was still soooooo worth it.


    Ahem. I admit, Rosalia was quite the petty girl with a terrible sense of humor.


    But so am I! Ahahahahaha!


    No one knows it yet, but that dancing little girl will be such a heartbreaker. A hilarious one may I add?


    ...This world really is lacking in entertainment for me to be like this.


    Out of politeness and the fear of mother, I clap along as Lily and father finish the end of this mini concerto. Grampa and mother being the loudest of course. The beaming princess of this family finally tired out after her show.


    "Papa! Lilwi do real good!?" she looks up at the nerd with eyes of shining adoration, love and...hey wait a minute. That''s just suspicious!


    "Of course my little cheese wheel. But we must work on your speech, and for that I must reduce a cheese".


    Father pets at her hair, picking her up for a light washing in a warm bowl of lemon flower water. When he pulls off his own gloves with a snap, lunch is served with a line of servants to finally fill the set table.


    "Cheese!!!"


    Of course. Bribe and punish the child with food. How evil and utterly effective. Bravo father, I both fear and somewhat respect your villainy ways.


    Just don''t make me do any of that and we''re good.


    By the power of love or something like that, mother revives enough to release me and shower kisses and praise upon her ''darlings''. From an outsider''s point of view, it looks like a very ideal sort of scene, a good looking family under the spring shaded spotlight. No filters needed, put it on a postcard.


    In reality, it''s very gross. Even Lilyanne wiggles in displeasure, caught between the nasty couple who block the way to her beloved cheese. Her tiny toddler limbs and stubborn expression, made all the more adorable fighting for freedom when it''s plainly futile.


    For a moment her sunlit amber eyes actually open, full of simple but fiery determination. She looks up beyond to squish of flesh entombing her and the sight of cheese, making direct eye contact with her mirror image.


    I pick up my fork and enjoy my sald. Nope, nope nope, not getting into that mess.


    Mmmmmmmm this Buretta cheese today is simply subline! Oh the mild richness goes so well to compliment the agrula and herbs, with the tangy white wine-based vinaigrette. Such sheer perfection of flavors, oh wow, great cheese.


    Those hatefully adorable cow eyes start tearing up.


    I take another bite of cheese.


    "Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"


    Nom nom nom, oh my this soft blobby cheese goes so well on a simple tomato pasta as well. Soooo delicious! With such a beautiful hard prepared spread in front of me, how could I notice let alone bother with my tiredly sobbing sister? One must help themselves first before helping others. That''s what all the safety manuals say, and how right we modern folks are.


    So goooooood. Now this is pasta.


    "WAaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!! Wah!"


    "Oh dear." professes mother, as if suddenly made aware of a sobbing toddler sandwiched between her and father''s.....affections.


    "It appears my love, that our Lilyanne''s hunger outweighs yours." father makes a step back, arm still snugly around mother''s waist, just enough to release the wild toddler


    Who goes spearheading herself, not to literally any other seat at this table, but directly to me?


    Ack! Grampa, take care of this!?


    I scramble to safety behind where grampa laughs into his wine. Lilyanne goes straight for my partly eaten plates, specifically the serving of cheese on them. It''s only when she stuffs them into her mouth with a huff and a satisfied sigh does she calm down from her tears. Blissfully chewing messily over my portion.


    "Swwwoooo yuuuuuuuumy." she sings and sighs.


    "...my food?"


    So petty!!! How is a toddler so darn petty!? I wasn''t expecting any of this until she hit puberty?!


    "Ahahaha hah! Careful there Rosalia! Not everything will go the way you expect it to." grampa laughs, setting me back up on table.


    "But..."


    He ruffles my hair, surely messing up mother''s carefully tied little braid and side ribbon. When he reaches for another dish, his head bends low to me, smile boyish despite his age.


    "The dance you already know, you don''t have to follow them out step by step. No one does, not really. The tune changes all the time, even with the same player." he winks at me.


    Eyes too warm brown, too big and little too much like Lilyannes. I feel like pulling those unfair lashes out.


    "I don''t know any stupid dances. I''m three."


    "Of course pumpkin!"


    "...but if I did, I''m not crazy enough to do it all over again like that. "


    "I don''t think anyone is."


    "Not even you?"


    "Not even me. Everything and nothing is the same."


    "That doesn''t make sense. It''s the same. You''re all the same...but you''re missing steps. You''re strange, you''re all too strange compared to the yous of before."


    "I''m me and no one else darling. Maybe, you just didn''t meet me yet, not really."


    This grandfather is as confusing as he is dangerous. Despite the bright sunny grin and cheerful laugh lines forming on his face, I know this is actually a horrible man with the blood of countless on his hands. I know there are awful stories hiding in plain sight as well as those buried so deep no amount of digging will get it back out again.


    Trusting him is equivalent to betting your life. I just have no other options.


    "Does it matter? No. No, it doesn''t. "


    "Only if you want it to little one. Go from there. "


    "Go from where?"


    "Wherever you want. Whatever you want. Otherwise, what''s the point of it all?"


    There is none. There is no real point. I still don''t even know why I''m here, why me? Why was I the unlucky one that got pulled into this strange situation, this other world? Just because I keep myself busy doesn''t mean all the questions go away. Just because I plan and prepare with my all doesn''t mean I can still make it out unscathed.


    This mother is different.


    This father is different.


    Even this Lilyanne is growing up to be different, but by how much?


    Yet it''s still all the same. No one is magically another person. They''re all the same people who made up Rosalia''s fragile little world. Who set her up for failure, who she set up for her own heartbreak. Again. And again. And again.


    I don''t like this song and dance. I don''t want to play.


    "What if I told you...I just want that pasta?"


    A giant forkful plops the saucy carbs on the plate in front of me. Grampa''s deceptively handsome grin hiding that hint of a challenge he previously the man playing my father. It''s quite annoying how he looks at me as if he always knows something I don''t.


    While I always feel lost somewhere, like a real child. How frustrating,


    "Tomatoes and cheese and the veal, fish, no not that fish a less stinky fish. Do it again. Custard. Wine!"


    Everything loads up in front of me but the wine. Darn it.


    My parents chuckle as they finally take their seats at lunch. Finally remembering they had company, say two different generations of them. With mother cleaning off the sauce from a messy giggling Lilyanne while father raises an eyebrow at the unhealthy pile grampa keeps building up for me.


    "I think that''s enough gramps."


    "What''s that pumpkin? Not enough?~"


    "That''s the whole ham leg! No!"


    " Too salty, yes that right."


    "That''s the cheesecake, no no no!"


    "Cheeswie?!" the other toddler tries crawling over, eyes on the prize.


    "Oh dear, no my little duckie, finish your meal first." coos mother, before turning sharply, getting scary again.


    "And papa stop teasing Rosa. Eat your food. Rosalia, no, don''t think I don''t see you behind papa. You must not touch any wine. That''s for grown ups and my little bird is far from being grown up. Darling say something, she listens to you."


    "Listen to your mama Chippy. "


    "Yes Maria, huh I swore- when did you get that pumpkin? Ahahahaha!"


    "...I was just smelling it mother."


    "Oh hoho~ My Rosalia, do you need to sit in between with mama again? Where I can watch you very carefully?"


    "...no mother. I''ll be good."


    Time to stuff my face. Ahh scary scary, almost as bad when my own ma would nag me when I came back to visit, especially during meal times. Almost. That''s just because mother isn''t anywhere near serious yet.


    I don''t want to see that. Never ever.


    But yummy food tastes good regardless. As the master of sitting through awkward situations, let''s just keep eating. Mmmmmm.


    "Hear that my darling, she knows exactly what she''s doing when she''s not. She gets it from you after all."


    "I could refute that on the present evidence alone, my sweet love, but I never said she didn''t."


    "Oh you and papa spoil her so! Frederick, husband dear, she''s going to turn out so much worse than the domineering daughters from all those other noble houses."


    "I''m afraid, queen of my heart, that I''m happily preoccupied trying to spoil you. I am also afraid that it''s too late for that. There''s no need as Rosa for she does just as she likes. It''s worse. So far worse, that no other could hope to compare, for she gets that from you. And to think you wanted another..."


    "Oh but a boy would be so precious and-!!! Wait... what did you just say to me dear?"


    "My what a novice ensalada, yes lovely. I see, this pure taste goes well with light or strong flavors. No wonder the girls are so enamored with this cheese, it''s suitable for children."


    "Oh daaaarling?~"


    Munch munch chew chew, yes what deliciousness. I am tuning out everything. Nothing, not even gross reality can ruin meal time.


    After all what''s the point of being thrown in the doomed role of a little rich girl if I don''t enjoy some fine dining? Was food ever so tasty for that Rosalia? It''s not like she couldn''t afford whatever she wanted, later on, it''s just...I don''t think we ever had a meal like this?


    Leisurely, all together, out under the open sun and green grapevines draping down. This house, no matter how beautiful it was, has never been like this. The terrace balcony has never been opened and used in this way.


    Father was never so free or fiendish, mother was never so strong and healthy, and for some odd reason, the crazy old man playing grampa has never been insane.


    I take another bite, slightly melting into the taste of well braised red wine and meat.


    Yep, food is more delicious now that it''s ever been! All because I''m a cheat genius gracing my modern knowledge on these dishes. Of course! Oh hoho!


    "So what do you think...." starts father, perhaps in the attempt to distract and save his own skin, "about heading up to the high vineyards?"


    He smiles as if it were a generous present, a vacation, something that will benefit us entirely. I know that sparking scam face. It won''t work on me, no matter how sinfully convincing or heart racing it is. Huh, perhaps they didn''t cook out all the alcohol in this meat?


    "Father....are you trying to run away from court work again?" I increase my eating speed with fervor.


    "On the contrary my Rosalia, it will involve a lot more."


    "Oh of course it is. For work." mother pouts, one cheek puffed up. "How long will you be gone this time?"


    "We could all be gone for the rest of the season if you wish my love. How does that sound? See to honored father''s main winery and orchards, before it gets too hot. Ride daytrips north to those trading hubs. You haven''t gotten your taste of city life and shopping this year, and I''d hate for you to feel behind on the fun."


    Father takes her hand as he speaks, using his other one to lightly wipe off what could be some sauce or just her red lip tint. Even when her face is obviously well and clean, he doesn''t release her hand. Rather bringing it up for a cheesy death, uh I mean kiss.


    I feel like slamming my whole face into this pasta, sauce or no.


    "Hmmm, you''re driving a very delicious offer my husband.~ Too good to be true even. What ever are you up to now? Do we need lay low again? All of us? Papa are you in on this too?"


    "I may be," shrugs grampa, also practicing too busy eating and drinking to pay mind. Sometimes I wonder how he can put up with such an awkward and disgusting show. Bleh.


    "Or perhaps ...the cliffside thermal springs?" brings up father.


    Springs...the hot springs and spa towns! I forget we had those? I mean, it''s not like the last few years of Rosalia''s life was leisurely enough to be frequenting. Not with all the matters in the capital or the suffering back home.


    So the original would say things along the lines of how those hot natural springs smelled awful anyways. Who has the time? A healing restorative vacation? Oh ho ho not Rosalia Ventralla!


    ...Ah I feel my blood pressure rise just by thinking about those times.


    "Hmmm, the water is rejuvenating for a lady''s skin...and the girls have never gone before."


    "I''ll have your rooms ready in a fortnight my love. "


    "And I do love shopping... for myself....darling, one more thing."


    "Yes dear."


    "Cancel the orders for that awful ship in my name at once. By tonight. I know you weren''t joking. If I see a gold and ivory ship with even a hint of my name or likeness carved into the figurehead, I''m docking it forever without a single consideration. "


    "Well I suppose we''ll take the gemstone carving down, I mean.....yes dear."


    Well, I guess that''s that. As a small child in the house I have absolutely no choice or control at all. Guess we''re visiting up to the vineyards. Whether mother will get a ship or not is to be determined. Father sure never did that in the last life but I see it as a very believable thing now.


    That''s the best I can do then. Take the knowledge, not the memories. Taken it from then, but lay it under the now.


    Because everything and nothing is the same.


    Well, at least I think that''s the point of what grampa is trying to say. A little hard to decipher crazy.


    I wonder if I could manage to get us up north enough to pick up my horse. We just need to go a little bit further, past the border of the trade center towns. What a coincidence!


    "What a coincidence. Papa? Darling, I heard from the last tea part that a certain young Northern royal shall be near the border around next season, for a public function. Hmmm?" mother tugs curiously at father''s ribboned neck tie. I''m glad she likes up but...


    "What?!!" I hear my own voice shriek like a mouse.


    "Whaaaa?" parrots Lilyanne, copying along in pitch.


    "What a coincidence indeed." father nods to the motion of mother''s control, voice perfectly serious.


    No no no I thought I avoided it for this year. I got poisoned for it?! Why do I have to see the stupid prince again so soon?! He''s not as fun to bully when he''s this little. I don''t want to deal with this. Noooooooooo!


    "No no nooooooooo" I half sob to grampa''s rough pats on the top of my poor head, laughing the whole time.


    "Like I said pumpkin, not everything. Some things! But not everything."


    I slam my head into his palm, again feeling faint. I should go get poisoned again or something, then I really can''t make it. Genius, me.


    ------------------------


    ---------------


    Bonus: 1 hour ago, 1 magic portal away


    ---------------


    -------------------------


    A looming shadow. The blackened stains and wisps of smoke, spelling disaster not too long past. Slimy creatures crawling in broken splatters and chunks. A tearful torn child brought sore to his knees.


    "...and why do we not bring in strange things to cook or play with?"


    "Uhhh because we don''t know what they are so we should so we can learn lots of stuff?"


    "No....try again Lukas. Think about what ...just... happened."


    "Because they blow up! Oh. Oh yeah. But Cap and Rosalia said she cooked on river rocks just fine all the way laaaaaaaast year. And you say I can''t touch the fire anymore but then how do I get to be the best because I should be the best but bacon pasta didn''t win because Amar aaaand Rosa cheated! So if I use hot rocks then that''s not fire and it''s ok if I-"


    "You ...brought in a bucket of river stones and trail snails. In no way does to equate to mean... you bringing them into the kitchen!" the older man grits out, already tired from the thought to cleaning this up.


    Gable''s kitchen exploded. Wonderful. His walls are spotted in rock and everything was point blast scorched and charred. The only good thing to come out of this was that Lukas was unharmed, the boy had stepped out to the pantry when the pot of stones exploded.


    "What a wonderful day for an energy filling whoooooa! Gabe what happened in here?! Ahahaha and you say only I blow up the kitchens!!! Ahaha! Oh....uhh"


    Ron was at a slight loss. The last time this happened had not ended well for him. Now Lukas, merely a tiny squishy little snowball of a boy, shivered on his knees. Awaiting the fires of retribution that might just be worse than the one he started.


    Just the thought had Ron feel numb to his toes.


    "...should I....take the lad and...go?"


    "No." breathed Gable, voice icily calm. When he smiles, it''s eerily beautiful, stiff as a statue. Cracks and chips breaking as it horrifyingly comes to life like a gargoyle.


    Ron doesn''t know whether to run and also get on his knees, maybe offer his neck to reduce Gable''s anger. The kitchen blew up, again. Great.


    The wind blows in from the broken window.


    It''s a painting, a small shower of yellow-white flowers, partly dried, swirling around. Scared as they are, Ron sighs at the sight. Lukas whimpering when it makes his nose twitch and sneezes.


    The flowers twist and rope, lining themselves tight and full in a large basket. Various jars of goodies already packed inside. The entire thing was tied off by two fat lace twin ribbons on each side. The package obviously meant to appeal to a more feminine audience.


    The pretty package was a little out of place in a broken and blackened kitchen.


    "In fact, Ron...go out for lunch today. Enjoy yourself. Bring Buttercup some flowers and some small things I''ve been meaning to hand over."


    "Um, Gable...are you sure I shouldn''t stay and help clean. You know I''ve very good at cleaning up my own messes and-"


    "Go."


    "....So Gabe, what you''re saying is you don''t want a witness?"


    "I won''t have you spoiling the child. I''ll handle this. Now go before I lose my patience with you too, don''t forget the flowers."


    "Go on without me Cap!" cries Lukas, eyes closed in a childish display of bravery. That and the half-blown up snail crawling on his bare foot really tickled and he was trying to hold it in.


    "Be strong Lukas," the other man tearfully waves, arms outreached.


    "Cap!"


    "Lukas!"


    "Just go." the blond snapped, wand out to blow a certain bothersome bad influence away. Dramatic cow eyes full of tears and all. That''s why he kept his line of sight directly on the child. One who looked too much like him to draw enough sympathy to get him out of this.


    The boy grimaced.


    "Is this going to hurt lots or be really boring?!"


    "Another lesson for today Lukas....both is always an option."


    "Awww poopies. Can we still eat first?"


    "Maybe after you clean this place spotless."


    "Awwww super poopies.


    ---------------------------------


    -------------------


    Bonus 2: 1 hour later, 1 direct express Ventrella wagon ride away.


    -------------------


    --------------------------------


    A teenage boy with soft brown eyes and even softer brown hair neatened his waist apron. The thing not as convenient as a full apron was a bit more presentable outside, yet kept the rest of his beloved clothes still clean.


    He may not be an enviously handsome youth but he appreciated taking care of himself. Complain as he might, the possibly insane little miss did make some divine things for his skin. Why that troublesome acne that sprouted since he was 13 had all but vanished.


    Even in the dark and under a strangely fitted but protective hooded coat, he resembled something of a soft and tender sheep. No, it was exactly because he was in this sort of place that he stood out.


    But he was here for an assigned errand, something Alfonso personally instructed for him to make. It was fine.


    "They wouldn''t send me to some horrible torture lab or anything, ...right?"


    Sure that nothing was left loose, untied or too embarrassing, he knocked on the door to the thin door between the stones of a bridge. It was honestly so thin and hidden and shadows that without specific orders written to him by the household head butler, Georgie was sure he would have never found it.


    His knocks are at first met with silence. Then a rummaging flurry of voices, heavy thuds, and the draining sound of something wet?


    Georgie knocks again, sure that the code was right?


    "Um it''s me, Georgie from the main house. We''ve met before? You know the poor sap taking care of Rosalia? I was told- uh to bring this in and see if you needed anything else?"


    More crashing sounds followed. Slamming and the thudding of stairs. It sounded like this place was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside.


    The door bursts open and it''s not what he''s expecting at all. A wet tall strong exotic woman stood in nothing but man''s blood splattered shirt. Georgie doesn''t know exactly where to look that was least offensive. Bare legs, bloody top, or the string tied tooth in her hand.


    He settles on begging for forgiveness


    "Uh, I''m very sorry! Saw nothing. Nothing here!"


    "Oh, oh dang you''re looking finer day by day. Clearer than a milk maid''s. I see I see. Rosa really doing good work on you there."


    "Tamera?! What the- Where did half your hair go? ....er what happened?!"


    "Long story. Calm down it''s really just Georgie boy."


    The sound of something roaring spluttered and stopped, as well the clang of a few cages closing. However a great rusting of things getting stuffed does sound out now that the door was open.


    Mentally, his brain goes through all of young Rosalia''s bad jokes of family torture chambers. He wonders if he should bother running.


    "Cute. Didn''t think soft hamsters ever be his type. Well, it changes every year."


    "What?!"


    "I mean, come on in! Watch your step over here. How''s the little princess, Georgie? "


    "Uh...great. Bossy as ever, especially in the kitchen. Keeps surprising people that she''s actually a little monster of a genius. There are rumors that all that talk is just a rumor like we''re trying to show off the Ventrella''s good name or something. "


    Against all logic, Georgie steps through the door and down a crack in the wall that really should not have fit anyone. Still, it gives way and he sweats and he feels his way down from against the wall, making small talk as he goes.


    "Ahhh people will always have room to talk. " Tamera waves off, opening a doorway of sharp point bars.


    "So um..."


    The teenager really didn''t know what to ask first. The list was just too long.


    "Yo special delivery for the chronically sick patient. Yuna, pull Vincent out of the coffin. It''s just too obvious of a hiding spot when it''s right there. You know? Sorry about him, kinda off lately."


    From where he''s perched, a younger feline-like boy gracefully kicks the stand. Forcing the coffin to tilt down to the floor and open.


    Thankfully it''s just a groaning hiding Vincent and not say a skeleton or a dead body. Georgie sighs in relief.


    "Well um, here are some of the things supposedly set from Alfonso. Uh he said, you know what to do?" the teen sets his bags down, carrying out a metal container with what looked like many compartments.


    Someone else might have been curious but not Georgie. No sireeee. He had something he liked to call common sense. There was a line with respecting others, and just not bothering in stuff that''s not any of his business.


    "And that." Yuna pointed a dangerous looking pair of pliers.


    It was dark but Georgie would guess just about everything down here looked dangerous. He quickly offered up the lunch basket.


    "Leftovers from today you brat. Vincent got his special herbs and porridge but I figured, how the hell does anything live off just that? And I figured someone else might be around so I packed a hell lot extras."


    "You figured right" Yuna dropped the pliers, hopping down to help out with unloading lunch.


    Okay, Georgie breathed. This he could do. Yuna was pretty familiar, the other side of this strange unpaid babysitting deal over young miss Rosalia.


    "Sorry, thank you. Sorry for, yeah." the dark haired older boy muttered out, somehow still on the floor. At least he was looking healthier? More color that''s for sure.


    "This is just pathetic" Tamera crossed her arms, still too loosely dressed to be appropriate, anywhere.


    "Uh huh, no problem. " Georgie unwrapped the dishes that were meant to be eaten right away, setting it on the table with Yuna''s guidance and help.


    Something felt off though, a nagging feeling that Rosa often just laughed on. Saying that was just him being a nag. And no it wasn''t just the setting.


    "So uh....sorry if this is rude but uh-" Georgie starts because there really was a limit to the common sense.


    A soft groan. Practically indistinguishable from the creaking sounds echoing behind stone walls.


    Georgie''s feet move before his brain even registers it, climbing up a ladder by a shadowy loft.


    "Told you he''d figure it out" Yuna scoffs at the others.


    That soft groan was something Georgie had heard before, and it wasn''t good. Soft voice, bloody head, a shy looking child that likes their house honey buns, cinnamon spice and all sorts of sweets too much.


    "What the hell is wrong with him?!" Georgie yells down, seeing the boy in his mind laying yet again in his own blood.


    The more Georgie looks the more horrified he becomes.


    Fresh bruises, fresher bandages. His entire left hand wrapped into a useless lumpy cast. The veins in his small temple blackened visibly under his skin. The kid was whimpering but unconscious, blood pooling out of his swollen cheek and mouth. The clear signs of a fist to the face, both eyes circled dark.


    Georgie reached out to feel at a sweaty forehead but in his sleep, Amar cries, screams at the outside touch. He feels it as someone immediately pulls him away, Tamera most likely from the larger frame supporting him. See''s her adult-sized tanned hands bluntly block against Amar''s tiny bandaged ones.


    She slams the child down as he struggles and claws, legs kicking wildly. Yuna already on his other side, holding Amar''s small frame down. Stopping him from not only hurting Georgie but himself in the violent outburst.


    "What...the hell is wrong with him?!" Georgie repeats even slower, the moment Tamera gets him back down to safety. Safety against a small six-year-old, crying painfully in his sleep.


    "Ask the tall ass dark creep that dropped him off from the main house?! He''s been unconscious the whole night to now!" Yuna bites.


    "Multiple blunt points of damage, a twisted ankle, two black eyes, three broken ribs, a literal hole in his hand, two vemons and 17 known poisons. Three unknown. All at once." Vincent groans, still hiding his face in his hair.


    "And a loose tooth" Tamera lift the baby tooth on the bloody string.


    Out of all those responses, it''s Tamera''s that has Georgie squint and look over in disbelief.


    "What?! It was practically punched out, kid could have seriously swallowed it."


    An awkward silence followed, made even worse by the muffled cries and whimpers above.


    "This is why I wanted to stay in the coffin." Vincent complained.


    "You can''t just hide away and pretend your dead every time a cute-" Tamera starts.


    "Hey someone get the damn clingy snake away from the food down there." Yuna yells from the loft.


    The what now?


    Georgie turns and true to Yuna''s words there''s a giant snake hissing at some spaghetti. It looks up for a brief moment, and Georgie felt like a mere bug under its slit gaze. Then it drops, going back to hissing at past noodles.


    So many questions. Georgie doesn''t even know where to start.


    --------------------------


    -----------------


    -------

 114 White sheets and bandages.

    AAAhhhhhh I''m late!


    I wake up in a flailing panic because shit shit shit my alarm failed and I overslept.


    Shit, my supervisor is going to have hissy piss if I show up late again. So I''m going to have to use my own paycheck to buy breakfast, again, and pretend to grovel in front of Yao before he nags me for the next three days about being late ...again.


    Or ooooh if I stop by the Park''s bakery for breakfast, I could maybe get Jung-Soo to.... wait.


    This isn''t my bedroom?


    Next to me a squishy little toddler stirs. She''s very cute. With her sleepy wet cow lashes and chubby milky cheeks. Such a pretty little beauty, even with her eyes closed and drool on her peach little lips. Her parents must be so very happy, to have such a cute little girl.


    "Rosa?" she yawns.


    I blink awake.


    "....sorry. Lily...Lilyanne. Go back to sleep."


    This isn''t my bed, this isn''t my body. But it is now, has been for a while.


    "Too earlwiiiiie. Rosa wakey ups toooo earrrly." she clutches at my side, trying to bury me back down into the downy covers.


    Twilight and soft pale sheets bring me back. To another place, another time. If the warmth next to me was only larger, stronger, something, someone, a lot more solid.


    "It''s too early." a much deeper voice, light like silver bells, made provocatively raspy with sleep. It rings like static I can''t turn off in the back of my head. "Go back to sleep...."


    Even if I yelled, anything from how I was going to be late or why he dared use me like a teddy bear again, the overgrown brat wouldn''t let go. Warm arms tight, long legs tangled, sleepy kisses I''d push away if only we were both more awake. Tight, tight so damn tight I couldn''t fight even if I wanted to, so hold on tighter and don''t say anything more. Sleep crusted eyes and pulses slow. Don''t wake up. So I can look at you a little longer.


    Don''t wake up just yet. Don''t let me go just yet. I know you won''t, only you.


    "Meng."


    I push.


    Too easy. The too soft warmth rolls over, taking white sheets with her. Lilyanne peacefully snoozing away. The hands that pushed her are small, too small.


    They''re mine and everything still feels unreal.


    The nursery room is still bathed in silent twilight. The small soft canopy bed is fit for a princess or two. No one has called me that name in years. No one will.


    I don''t exist here. Only Rosalia.


    The morning air and hard floor is cold, but I get up anyway. I don''t feel like sleeping in today. It''s not productive, and there''s an anxious restlessness underneath my skin.


    How depressing.


    Even after being reborn into another world, I still sometimes wake up like I did then. Too early, ready to run off to work or whatever the day demanded. It''s ingrained into my brain even though I''m in another body. An alarm clock that I can''t seem to fully turn off.


    I don''t work, I''ve been born rich! Ahhhh this is really not fair.


    Well ....there is one thing for a girl to do when she gets up too early.


    Get pretty.


    I patter around, climb up the step stools to the wash bin, brush my teeth with the strange powdery paste, and comb the unruly curls growing out of my head. All by myself of course! It''s too early for the Alphabet maids to be bothering anyone just yet.


    Besides, I''m not really a child, even if the face in the bronze mirror is that of one.


    A very very cute one. Ahhh just look at her, like a little European doll! No matter what sort of face or pose I make in the mirror, the image reflected back is so loveable. It''s practically sinful how cute and pretty I am now!


    Not that I wasn''t devastatingly cute as hell before, oh hohoho.


    But it''s really incomparable to this pretty little foreign doll. Such genetics! Just looking at this angelic cuteness brings back up my strange mood.


    Alright! Since this oddly reddish hair is growing out again, let''s try some cute little girl hairstyles for today. It''s much harder to manage than that what I''m used to but at least I never have to use a curler iron. This is the natural hair of a villainess after all, these curls are natural. No makeup needed either. Ahhh how nice, young baby skin is so soft and nice.


    Shall we do pigtails? Some braided bangs? Princess Leia buns? Sailor Moon?! Lots of things from my beloved old internet I can try out. For I am the perfect shameless model now! I''m three!


    Seeing as my fingers are pudgy and my hair isn''t as long as my twin''s or anything, I settle on pigtails braided and pulled into low buns, tied off with some of mother''s unlimited supply of ribbons and maybe some stolen jeweled hairpins.


    It''s fine, I''m just borrowing them. Oh ho ho ho, besides how can anyone say no to something this cute!


    Satisfied, I hop down ready to face the day and continue my long term plans to take over the world.


    Just kidding. I just want money.


    This morning I''m thinking of heading to the soap rooms, bright and early to see to my inventory. Maybe play with some lotion. I really to finalize what is packageable as luxury products that will bring in the most cash.


    The soaps are getting a little common though very necessary, around the home and the troops. That''s not the kind of branding I''m going for. Ventrella soap bars- the thing that keeps lice away and your armor bloodstain free, yeah just not that great a money maker.


    I quietly open the door, ready to bow my good morning to the stationed night guards and...


    "Rosalia I need you to get your sister and do that thing again" Georgie pants right outside my door.


    How odd. For one he dares demands something of his young miss, and I haven''t even made any messes yet? Did I leave something unattended to last night?


    More importantly, he makes a very strange sight. For he is dragging some very ...not kiddy sized henchmen by the ears. What? How in the world?


    Did he...uh drag them all the way up here? Like that? Ow much.


    "Uh...I''m going to need some more details," I gesture to the low growling Yuna on his left. Then to a possibly dying Vincent, curled up and hiding in his own overgrown hair as much possible. It''s looking very creepy, very well ghost you know?


    "Get Lilyanne. Do the thing." Georgie fails at whispering.


    The guards outside the hall simply standing still, far too used to my young assistant going in and out with all sorts of seemingly crazy requests. It''s the only reason why they must have allowed him to get this far, probably a few minutes away from bursting into the nursery.


    "The what?"


    "THE THING!"


    Talk about confusing.


    "Can you let go of my damn ear while you do this? Can I fucking walk on my own yet?! Ow ow ow!" Yuna yelps when Georgie pulls even harder, pulling off a twist.


    "Watch your dirty mouth before I wash it for you, there are children and....hell you''re like 12?" he half deflates when warns the younger teen.


    "13, or something like that. Owww there''s a hole and ring in there you bread loaf- oww ow ow." screeches Yuna, so much I wince I sympathy.


    Earrings do hurt. Good thing Rosalia''s little ears don''t have any piercings yet.


    At the reminder of painful jewelry being pulled, Georgie loosens his grip on Yuna. The young boy hissing and cursing under his breath Behind his hands, Vincent seems to be seriously praying to melt into the floors. The poor gangly thing flushed with hot shame, maybe ear pain.


    "Young Miss Rosalia," Georgie smiles, far too stiff to be good, "there is a matter in the SOAP rooms, rather then the KITCHENS like before, that would benefit from your attention. It would be most beneficial...if your dear younger sister would be uh...packed along."


    For further emphasis, he shrugs with the two supposedly stronger boys, one in each hand. As if it were all a big hint.


    Yes. So very subtle Georgie.... Ohhhhh whatever could he be talking about? What a greeeeat mystery.


    "....is something or someone on fire again?" I deadpan, suddenly tired again.


    "Thankfully no."


    "Is there blood on my floors and tables?"


    "Also no. It....stopped."


    "Is it bad enough a blindfold for Lilyanne going to be necessary again?"


    "....yes."


    I sigh to Georgie''s replies. Well there goes my mood again.


    "Fine, fiiiine. I''ll get Lily ready but someone has to softly carry her down. Georgie, release them. They made it this far."


    I motion to invite my assistant and his kidnapees in. We got a magic toddler to wrap up. Lucky for us, it''s much easier when she''s fast asleep.


    Just gotta pack a bit of stuff for the girl. Hmm some daywear, today''s shoes, snacks in my purse, yes that will do. Wait for Georgie to wrap Lilyanne up. Drag Vincent back up and away from the window where it''s very likely he would fling himself off. Kick Yuna a bit because I see him eyeing what is valuable and very stealable in the wall decor. Then we''re good to go!


    Let''s go see what the mess is this time. What did my kiddy minion in training do now?


    Geez you would think Lukas would be the one getting into the most trouble. In fact, I''m sure that''s what most everyone in the troops and my unfortunate kitchen staff believe. It must be the divine blessing that is Gable holding him back.


    That just leaves the other little monster. It''s always the quiet ones.


    Ee make our way down the hike that is my own house, through courtyard after twisting courtyard. Georgie forces the two troop members in front, as if commanding them to march with his eyes on him. The mood is tense as Vincent shuffles his feet and Yuna complains under his breath, rubbing at the sore ear. Yet they''re forced to obey with Georgie glaring the whoe time, as if ready to snap. It''s honestly a little scary.


    Not in the way any of my family members are. Definitely not mother, that just too intense.


    Kinda like my work supervisor during crunch time? During some really bad Public Relations fallout? Ah, or a big event gone and still going wrong. Angry clients and the general public and social media? Hahaha bad times, bad times.


    Don''t miss that part at all. Praise the gods and or goddesses of this world, I''m rich and don''t really have to work. Kinda.


    "So uh....do I get any more information or do we just march like it''s a funeral?"


    I hear a pathetic whimper after I speak, most likely from Vincent. Man, we really need to do something about that undead hair. He''s getting better fed but somehow looking worse. Really just not taking care of himself as of late.


    "Not now Rosalia. Just keep walking. You''ll see." Georgie forces us to keep moving in awkward silence, holding on to my sleeping sister just fine. The heavy atmosphere getting thicker and thicker.


    Man, this is so not what I got so cute for this early morning.


    If any early morning Ventrella employees such so happen to see this morbid march, it''s met with nothing but a half solemn bow. Somehow, somewhere along the lines, Georgie has gained too much power in this house beyond that of a Jr. Chef.


    Yes, he is the official Rosalia babysitter now. Much power. Much responsibility.


    Why does it sound as if he''s keeping watch over a dangerous beast? He even has this special key entrusted by Alfonso that gets him into most of the villa. Apparently, because I sneak around everywhere.


    There are the secret guards. I know they''re around. But they never talk to me or make themselves known, let alone drag me back. Something I''m sure is against their policy and work contract with father. There''s probably the usual orders of no interfering with the subject unless absolutely necessary. I mean those were the rules when I sicked them on a teenaged Lilyanne.


    Really can''t be helped. I''m too young to be taken seriously. I''m sure that eventually in time, they''ll come around. With or without father mysteriously dying and leaving me everything.


    Hmmm in hindsight that''s a bad thing. Especially when I''m absolutely sure he didn''t leave me....everything. The nerd is an awful sort of puzzle to figure out, something I still can''t really make sense of, even with cheats.


    My thoughts bounce from mysterious tall dark foreign assassins to the cool studio underground the southern gardens. Grampa''s crazy vague warning burrowing deeper under my skin.


    Everything and nothing is the same.


    The kitchen staff starts work early, much earlier than this. From starting the hot water boilers and heating to the house to prep working materials for the whole day. Other staffers stopping by for their morning provisions, here and taken out.


    Some bow, some wave, some barely blink with a fast run of the hot water kettle and a good morning to me, the young little miss.


    Bethany shouts out orders to pages who in turn deliver the right items to the cools. Mr. Serra chuckles over morning tea with both the old gardeners, a take out basket being loaded up to bring to those at the stables. The slightly older children of the staff listening in around them on the tales. Donna asks if we all want to breakfast yet to which Georgie politely turns down.


    "Wait, food isn''t going to be a thing?" Yuna side-eyes the ciabatta baking by the ovens.


    "Keep moving brat" Georgie threatens, hand itching to pull on that ear again.


    When Yuna huffs, looking both grumpy and honestly a sad little cat, my babysitting assistant breaks. For he is actually quite a softie deep down, underneath all that nagging.


    "Fine fine, take this for now and just go."


    Georgie grabs and stuffs a ciambelle, something that resembles a cross between a doughnut and a filling pretzel, into the younger teen''s sharp mouth. It causes a small wave of giggle with some passing married kitchen maids, arms full, and faces lively.


    Nothing is the same, because I never knew these people and they never knew me. I knew them on the roster, the cogs that keep the gears of this house moving. That''s it.


    They saw me as their noble superior, from another world practically. The young lady of the house they''re employed in. They don''t wave or boldly say my name. They don''t offer me leftover stew or gossip from the laundry rooms, nor honest compliments on how cute my hair looks today. That''s not how it ever went, especially when I was so young.


    These sort of differences....are not so bad.


    At least that''s what I was thinking till we get to my soap rooms, boarded and on full shut down. What the hell?


    "Abbey open up, we''re here." Georgie knocks.


    "Pa-pa-password-d? Wha-what is in the ba-ba-ba-basket?" comes a nervous girly voice behind the door.


    "Abbey that was never a thing!"


    "The answer is Noddle," pipes up Yuna, mouth full.


    "I don''t know why we call it that." Vincent weakly protests.


    "Fine," gives up Georgie, for he is ultimately pushover "Noodle. The answer is a noodle, the worst possible name for the forsakenly damned thing."


    The door slowly unlocks and opens, just a crack, with my maid shaking with a broom in her hands. As if she could use it to defend against intruders at the door. She breathes a great sigh of relief upon seeing us, ushering me and the rest in.


    Everything has been boarded up, so the main light comes from the fireplace and a few lanterns set by Abbey. It creates the feeling as if it''s still night the moment the door shuts again. Even more so when a tap from Vincent, sets the room in a flash of iridescent. It reminds me of when grampa silences a room with a force that''s almost electric.


    But this is softer, weaker. Like a thin soap bubble blown up, popped and settled into wood and stone. No one blinks, as if they didn''t notice a thing. Maybe they don''t.


    It is to my relief that nothing looks to be out of place.


    No trails of blood. Nothing broken. Most importantly, no one, especially a child, was sitting on any of my soap tables like a morbid real-life game of operation. I must say Georgie did a much better job of being subtle and discreet. Because the last time was really not a good time for my kitchens, nor quieting down the poor staff.


    "Okay, where is he?" I ask, looking around.


    "Behind, th-the sette. By th-the fire." weakly leads Abbey, broom trembling in her hands.


    I take a deep breath, as not to be taken by too much surprise for what I shall see next.


    Which is futile. Nope. Still surprised. There''s a mummy on my work room sofa!


    A small one yes, but a mummy none the less. Bandages upon bandages, layers so heavy they partly drag and look almost comical. Amar has been so wrapped up in bandages I can''t even tell if he''s breathing under there. Hell, I can hardly tell it''s him if it weren''t for the others practically screaming it from their presence.


    But it''s no joke.


    It''s bad. That much I can tell, even if it''s out of sight and out of mind. Especially so, since the coverings leave the imagination to run free. Peeks of blood and bruises blooming darker under the edges of where they peek.


    As I step close it''s increasingly clear that whatever is underneath there, all around his head, tightly fitted over normally sleepy eyes, has got to be awful. I don''t know if the excessive bandages are for the kid''s benefit or for my own. The sight, just the implications underneath, has my gut feeling heavy, sick.


    This is a different world. A very violent one, where magic floats in the air and blood spills as easy as wine. I know that, have known it all along. I have the memories of the original. I know all of what she''s done before she so turbulently died. What I have done.


    I know it all so personally, and I still can''t swallow this down.


    That''s how weak I am.


    Too small. The kid was too small just the other day when I saw him, laughing over cat ears and pasta sauce. He''s still too small now. What happened in this short amount of time? What happened and why?


    But those are all stupid questions at the moment. Like asking if someone was okay when they clearly aren''t. There are better things to be doing at this time.


    "Where? Where is he injured? Georgie, blindfold on, remember it''s all just a game in front of Lily." I instruct to various people, moving a small lantern to get a better look.


    Even without anyone saying a word in response, I can see the constrained breathes in that still too thin chest. Too many wrappings on a tiny torso for something, many things, not to be broken. One of his hands wrapped into cast compared to the other one, swollen a dark shade of purple and red. One side of his normally cute childish face was swelling even worse, lip split and dried in blood. Bite marks deep from where cut himself.


    Damn. Where''s child protective services when you actually need it?


    Georgie sets my still sleeping sister down next to me while Vincent sighs. Reluctantly whispering his diagnosis: broken ribs, twisted ankle, a very mangled hand. Broken broken broken.


    "He''s in stasis- I....for when we moved him."


    "You didn''t say anything about poison." I look up from my spot on the floor.


    That''s suspicion enough. Not talking about it.


    There''s always poison involved with this one, that much I can judge. That much I knew since the interrogation made into childish jokes and nonsensical cries in the sickbay. Confused excuses, "it''s just something I can do". The lines between can and should are already blurry among adults, let alone simple children.


    Lilyanne shouldn''t eat worms. Lukas shouldn''t go hopping down strange holes. Even I shouldn''t be doing a lot of things, as an adult or a child. And yet here we all are.


    "I have questions, and I will be answered. But that''s for later." I warn, getting ready to try easing Lilyanne awake.


    "He won''t die like that." Yuna bites bitterly, drawing the attention of the whole room. "That''s why they bothered dropping him right at Vincent''s feet. No one is that generous. We don''t get to die that easy. That loses profits."


    His own words hurt him but Yina holds his head up high, with a too familiar sort of arrogant pride. The way he confidently keeps his hand on his hip, the turn of his neck at a flattering angle to his face. The fear and insecurity bubbling down there.


    I know he doesn''t really trust me, us. I know who he reminds me of deep down. But I don''t feel like playing with the mirror anymore today.


    "I said later. Right now we see to Amar."


    "...Whatever you do, don''t touch his skin princess. It will make it worse if you wake him. Finally got him to actually sleep without screaming." Yuna crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable. His head motioning to the overkill of bandages, probably enchanted beyond the usual. To dull to pain, the speed up the healing, to cover and hide.


    I get it. A little too much.


    Taking the savior''s hand, this still drooling little girl, I''m all at once as thankful as much as I hate her for the trouble. It''s only because of her that we can do anything. That we can fix anything. But it''s because of her that so much come knocking at our steps.


    "Lily, Lilyanne wake up. Let''s play a game with big sister."


    She hardly stirs, rather preferring to snuggle her face into my arms. I shake her again, and again.


    "Come on Lily, just for a little bit?"


    "Tooo earlwy..."


    "Play with me a little bit and you can go right back to sleep. Can you push? Push and pull."


    I hold out her limp hand, steadying it over the other child. Right over his fragile chest, all without a single touch or any weight.


    "Push Lily, push that magic out. Lightly. It''s okay. That''s it. Just listen to my voice. That''s all you have to do. Just listen to what I say."


    Slowly, then all at once, fireflies of light make their way out from where out hands are conjoined. Lighting up beyond flickers of nearby flames, easily outshining the lantern. I move her little hand blindly like one tries to water a plant. Not too much in any one spot.


    From the ribs to the head, working lungs to over eyes tightly bounded. Dark bruises rimming down past the edge of the bandages on his face. The unsightly lump smoothening down to a normal-sized child''s face. There''s still dried blood, even with the bite marks on his lip seals and heals under the drops of light.


    Sometimes I have to encourage Lilyanne to go a little more. Shake to release another stream of healing magic. I stubbornly will it, careful not to grip her too tight in my frustrations. I do so over four little limbs that must be torn underneath, focusing particularly one the shapeless lump of a casted hand. That part felt like it needed more. More time, more magic. I don''t think it was just broken.


    I wanted to pour more. From the top of his head down to mummy wrapped toes, because he''s small. The kid is just too small. I wanted to try and see if that magic could fight off the poison that I''m absolutely certain must be painfully still coursing under the skin. But I''m pulled away before I even move on from an overwrapped ankle.


    "Th-that''s enough," Vincent whispers in something that sounds like horror.


    "No, it''s not." I hear myself speak more than register it consciously, " there''s more. We can fit in more."


    Like the level gauge of when my sister charges a vessel, I can just tell. My senses getting better in tune with Lilyanne''s practice. There''s so much more space for magic to be charged, there''s still so much left to heal.


    This is the only thing I can do that she can''t. I can just tell.


    So I refuse and press forth, shaking Lilyanne weak hand. I press it futilely as if it were a pump, trying to get as much of the weak wispy light over and in.


    "You''ll regret that later, especially healing his legs." Yuna snorts behind his hand, expressions hidden but eyes awed on the magical light.


    "It''s enough, please. Please. No more." Vincent weakly crawls, setting up something of a formation barrier on the subject on the seat.


    Lilyanne stirs, finally hearing the other voices.


    "Go back to sleep. You did so well. We''ll play lots and lots later with everyone when we''re ready. So sleep a little more, you can sleep a little more....Go back to sleep." I rock her the best I can with our similar sizes, drawing soothing circles on her back.


    I hold her until her breath settles and slows, back to a sleep that a real child can''t fake. Only then can I call Abbey to put to rest in another room. Somewhere safer than here.


    "Why is this still happening? Why do you let it happen?" I say, voice perfectly steady. The dead tone eerily discordant with my young voice and slight childish lisp.


    I wonder what Vincent sees when he looks at me shakingly. He''s on his knees, setting up that barrier, the distance between us not so far this way. Rather he looks far more fearful, more respectfully I dare say, than anytime we''ve met, even the first pandering time. Eye bags dark and long, looking far too much like a college student during finals. It almost makes you feel pity for him. Almost.


    I suppose the too convenient magic healing shocked him silly. It''s not like I particularly blame him or anything. Despite his age, the older teen looks like he can''t even take care of himself, let alone others.


    But running away solves nothing. Wanting to hide or waste away does nothing. I would know that best.


    "Even if it''s scary. Even if it hurts. Think about it and answer me. Tell me everything."


    "I-I....*thud*"


    ....Did he seriously just pass out? What?! Hey hey hey you all saw that right? It''s not just my imagination that Vincent legitimately fell over like some fainting maiden? How awkward. How many unconscious people do we have around here now?


    Don''t just quietly gawk, someone come help me with this! Hey....why is everyone looking at me that way?


    The strange silence is broken by a cackling, aka Yuna rudely bursting out into laughter. I think I messed up in picking henchmen to train. It''s too late for regrets but with my obviously shitty judgment, I really have my work cut out for me in these investments.


    "Pffffft, ahahaha! What? What the hell?! Ahahahahahaha! What a ride? And I thought yesterday was bad ahahahahahaha! HAh!"


    ".....are you quite done?" facepalms Georgie, finally breathing a sigh. Maybe in relief, maybe in exasperation. Who knows.


    "H-how da-dare you? To be- laugh at our miraculous young miss?!" Abbey loyally but ineffectively scolds, with tears already welling up in her eyes. An A for the effort at least.


    "Oh come on that was hilarious! HA! The princess just goes sparkling some candlelight then threatening a little itty bit in her squeaky baby mouse voice and Vincent just dies on the spot!"


    Oh god is he actually dead? I slap repeatedly at the sincerely unconscious teen on the floor. Yep, he''s out cold, literally. He''s pretty cold to the touch. Is he anemic or something? That would explain some things with his weak and easily stressed constitution. Maybe it would be better to treat him as a delicate young lady from now on instead?


    I don''t think he''ll be needing ...''the thing'' as Georgie so calls it. Just good rest and perhaps some stomach medicine. Ok make that a lot of stomach medicine.


    "Haha very funny, now move him off the floor and someone tell me what''s going on already. I did ''the thing'' now hold out on your end!" I point accusingly.


    "I wish I knew, I found him like that....for the most part." Georgie sighs.


    "For the most part?" I look back over to the mummy display. Well that''s disturbing.


    "Not exactly it''s just...urg there''s too much to say and I''m going to go overboard so Yuna, your damn turn."


    "We pulled out two baby tooths that sooooo weren''t ready to come out, bloodier than expected." Yuna helpfully fills in. "You should have seen when Tamera got out this massive-"


    "Okay okay I got that part, but what about before? The thing that caused ...this!"


    "That''s something I rather ask from your house. That''s where the kid was last, until your man left him like that to Vincent''s lab." Yuna goes back to crossing his arms, eyes sharply grazing between Georgie and I.


    "I''m telling you, I really don''t know. We don''t have an employee by that description."


    "Ridiculously tall. Voice deeper than a longhorn, only warned that we could treat Amar but the poison had to stay. Had the smell of the main house, something expensive slightly rubbed on him. Couldn''t see his face but his gear wasn''t cheap shit."


    "I swear we don''t-"


    "You gotta, you just aren''t high level enough bread loaf."


    At Yuna''s given profile description, my brain jumps to some really far conclusions. Of a mysteriously dark handsome man lugging dead bodies with a snack through my courtyards. A man that is most certainly working under....father.


    Ahhh what a headache. It''s still so early in the day and I''m already in this much crazy. I have a half beaten to death, again, mummified minion here. A slumped over necromancer on the floor. And my innocent sleeping sister in another room. How could it possibly get worse?


    "Um....p-pardon me but...." my maid shakily raises an empty bottom basket up, eyes frantically looking everywhere around the room.


    "What is it now Abbey? What''s going on?" I ask.


    "Aw shit not again Noodle."


    "Abigail... where did that thing go?!"


    "I-I''m sorry!!!"


    "It''s huge! You can''t just lose it?!"


    "I don''t know man, Noodle can turn pretty small and gets real sneaky."


    "What or who is Noodle?!" I shout out, once again out of the loop.


    This life is always one step forward three steps back on the questions. More to ask for every single one I get answered.


    Georgie paces across the whole room and disappears into the next as they shout around. When he returns he looks around as if considering his options.


    "....Okay we split up. Abbey you watch over young Miss Lilyanne....and Vincent I guess. Yuna....time to learn responsibility! Explain to Rosalia what unholy thing you have set LOOSE upon-"


    "I did not set anything loose you finger pointing ear pulling fake old housewif-"


    "Explain you horse shit turd of a brat, while I...I don''t know! Get some pasta and try to lure it out"


    "It likes slightly decayed raw meat you nasty dough head."


    "It liked spaghetti just fine yesterday, and I''d rather work with that."


    "That''s because it probably thought it was eating its own skinned bloody kin!"


    "We don''t have ''slightly decayed'' CORPSES to feet it!"


    "....are you fucking kidding me? In this place? House Ventrella?"


    "I''m not digging up monster snake feed that may or may not be there when there''s perfectly good spaghetti in the kitchen!"


    Huh? You know what, don''t bother answering, I''ll just logically infer. Like I always am forced to do. Despite the names and yelling, the babysitters sure get along pretty well. As wonderful as it is that my employees get along across the board...


    "There''s flesh-eating snake beast loose on my property?!"


    Like...a water snake or a land snake? We''ll be fine if it''s one of father''s poo-....nevermind. Judging from the very dry laundry basket, we''re doomed.


    "I-it eats f-flesh?!" shivers Abbey from all over.


    "Well would you look at that, the princess is a genius." Yuna quips as Georgie still frantically looks under every cushion and soap corner. He throws his hands up in the air, heading to unlock the door.


    Maybe on a pasta run. I''ve never heard of a snake that likes spaghetti?


    "No! No, it''s not really loose. It has to be in these rooms somewhere, keep watch of everything as I get to the kitchens and- "


    Just as he opens the door, a light and delicate fist knocks right on Georgie''s head. There''s a brief moment of pause, as the morning light temporarily blinds us all. Followed by the great shock of just who stands in said light.


    "My Lady?!"


    "Eeep! My Lady!"


    ".....mother?"


    "Damn. The queenie''s hot."


    Georgie takes an incredible three seconds to not only get out of the resting bow in front of my mother, but to slap Yuna upside the head and pull him down in a forced bow, possibly by the ears. Ouch.


    "Oh dear. Oh Georgie, I''m so sorry is your head quite alright? Thank goodness I held back from breaking the door...my....what...soft smooth skin you have? Even better than any milkmaid... So very....ahem." mother blinks herself back to sanity.


    For a moment there I thought I lost Georgie right there and then. Doomed to suffer a gruesome fate that would make a quick death by headshot seem pleasant in comparison.


    More importantly...how do we hide the bodies from mother in her sudden appearance?!


    "My my my, what''s going on here? I heard my girls were scurrying off so ''secretly'' this morning? Already so much like your papa my Rosalia.... dear-what...is that...kyaaaa!!!"


    At first, I feared that the cover was blown. But mother rushes straight not to anyone else but me, scooping my pathetically short little self up to her arms to nuzzle to death. My weight supported on her chest as her hands tug and brush all over my hair?


    "So cute so cute what is this cuteness?! What are these?! Is my own daughter a little flower fairy?! Oh so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute~"


    I see. Not only has my hairstyle passed the cuteness test but it can be used as a decoy. Quick, I wave to my uselessly bowing servants, I''ll keep mother distracted. You all go do something about...that!


    "Mama? What a surprise...."


    "So cute so cute so cute, to think my hairpins could be so cute. Oh hohohoho but what a strange sight you all make? Why is everything all boarded up? Are you making new lovely things again? Oh hohoh it''s like a little club."


    "That''s...exactly it! We''re having a beauty club session! Tooooop secret beauty session. "


    "And your taaaaall pale friend on the floor?"


    "He''s....asleep...from a relaxing massage?! And, uh, aroma and oils. Yes, good sleep is very important for the skin and hair."


    "Oh? Sleeping?"


    "Vincent has just been so ...ragged lately, we''re going to uh work on everything. A make over!"


    Oh god her eyes are sparkling, oh my god she''s buying this shit.


    "We''re giving him a makeover and it''s important for him to be utterly relaxed. In fact, it was so relaxing that even Lilyanne is just still right asleep over there. Mama can you take her out? We''re going to be very busy, as you can see."


    I point to the lump that in Vincent sprawled out on the floor to the next room where Lilyanne should have been put down to rest. Luckily the sofa by the fire is far inside and angled, hiding any heavily injured kiddies.


    Not so lucky is how much mother just isn''t leaving. Nor are any of the minions moving? Not even Yuna, not when he''s being pulled down by the ear. What the hell am I sacrificing myself for?


    "What....FUN!!! Ohhhh that sounds so fun my darling! What are we doing first? The hair? Oh there''s so much to cut!"


    "Um no, mama no! Mama not over there!"


    "Hmmm? Oh hohoho what are you hiding Rosa?"


    "Nothing! Just-"


    It''s with great tenseness that mother makes her way over. My useless servants not only powerless to stop her, but they also don''t even bother. Too busy cowering for their own meager lives. As servants of the house, they''re unable to get up without the great mother''s permission.


    It''s over, it''s all over.


    "Oh my? Was there supposed to be something around here?" mother carries me over to the fireplace, looking around as if for a treat. Sitting me down on the empty sofa seat.


    Huh?


    Empty?


    Where the hell did Amar go?!?! Ahhhhhhh there''s not just a snake but a kiddy sized mummy loose?! Am I making a haunted horror house? What the hell!?


    The minions looked just as shocked at the empty settee. All except Yuna, a terribly smug grin that screams ''I told you so''. And to be honest, I really deserved that.


    "Oh my, why is everyone still down? Oh a new face, and such a lovely one too. I''ve been so rude! Hello I''m Rosalia''s mama, thank you for playing with my baby girl! Please don''t mind me, think of as a helper. So? Where should we start on this ''makeover''?!"


    Ah my head. Ahhh this is just too much. Good night, who cares if it''s just morning, I''m going back to sleep.

 115 Isnt that just Persephone?

    "Milkies!!!"*slurp*


    "Oh no no no my dear little duckie, that''s not for drinking. That''s mama''s bath."


    "???....milkies!"


    "No no no my baby. Bath."


    It really is, but I see where the confusion comes from. Contrary to what my caught and wiggling little sister may think, the steaming porcelain coated tub is not just filled with warm delicious drinkable goat milk. We added too much stuff in for that.


    Seriously, no one drink this. No, bad Lily, down girl.


    It was honestly smelling a little sour but what do you expect from heating all this up? It''s fine, yogurt is good for the skin. A bit of honey, sea salt, some concentrated oils and loads of flower petals right that stench up and turns into the stuff of a luxury spa. A steaming pile of hot rocks kept warm on the brazier to plop in and reheat the bath mix as mother sees fit.


    It is a magic potion and spell, a woman''s precious skincare routine. Currently the giant tub of milky concoction promising everything from a mild exfoliation and moisturizing effect to something possibly more.


    Mother hands over a wiggling Lilyanne to an expressionless maid. She steps up to the tub, stance as determined as an Olympic athlete. But her face, it is her true face with horrifyingly twisted mad expression working in perfect harmony with her pure beauty.


    I feel as if it is suddenly night and that lighting shall strike around dramatically at any moment, even though we''re inside.


    "Oh hoho with this there''s no way darling will be able to resist me. The awful man, after all my effort.... He dares look down on me? ME?! I''ll get him this time if not on this trip. Oh! Oh ho ho ho hooooo!!!"


    I''m scared. Mother''s seriously laugh really really scares me. It''s awful.


    A small row of straight-faced maids applauds to her horrible declaration and villainess worthy laughter. Some even nod fervently, raining on the praises such as ''of course not my most divine and glorious lady'', ''you are the fairest beyond compare in any land my lady'', and even ''if he does not lose his mind at the blessed sight of you then he may as well lose his useless manhood my lady''.


    "Oh ho ho ho, indeed!" mother chuckles, hand haughtily raised in the air. " Work, work, errands, work, the pets, work, more work. No more! His mind, his body, all of him. Darling can only lose it all to me! Oh ho ho ahahahaha!"


    The maids cheer with the wrath of a fan army and I am so so so very afraid.


    Please father....I don''t know what''s going on or what you been doing but come fix this. You can be all gross again, I forgive you but just fix this. Mama is too scary!!!


    The light candles make the bathroom look more like a sacrificial altar. And her maids in their contrasting solemnity and fervor are the crazed cult members.


    When mother''s silken robes drop, all goes silent.


    The only sound is the low hissing of steam and my own internal screaming. The ripples and splashing as she descends into the murky hot water, sinking her nakedness under the thin veil of flower petals and milk. She sinks in, sighing in deep satisfaction.


    Why is bathtime so damn dramatic?!


    "Oh my, it is different today. To think adding concentrated milk and honey to my baths would have such an effect? I feel as if my complexion is softer and brighter already." she marvels, splashing the hot water examining her own already milky smooth skin.


    How wasteful. My hard researched products being used on my mother''s already flawless beauty. How hateful. Save some for me to sell to other rich ladies!


    Mother''s been inspired as of late. The ''makeover'' session forced upon Vincent really enlighted her to try out things of her own. As well as all my not so top secret research items. My skincare supplies! Stolen!


    Well, it''s more accurate to say they were offerings of appeasement. My servants were more than willing to throw anything that caught mother''s interests into her already vast possessions. What sell outs.


    They would sacrifice me if they could....actually I''m pretty sure that''s what happened.


    Curses. No loyalty at all. Not even Abbey could resist pandering to mother in absolutely every manner possible. Pulling out the ledger and giving my mother the tour of the entire soap rooms inventory as if she were the top VIP customer in a store.


    Something that my shopaholic of a mother played out perfectly.


    I want my stuff back. Or at least pay me for them, that research is priceless. Ahh my gold investments.


    "Oh are my little babies crying? Do you want to come in with mama?!" mother coos, waving over the maids.


    "Milkies!"


    Currently, two of them have Lilyanne held down, somewhat distracted with a bowl of flowers. The moment they set her loose, it''s clear she will dive right in, mouth open and ready to drown herself silly in bath milk. From an ornate screen divider another maid in with a platter of refreshments, including some kiddy milk for the greedy spoiled young miss.


    So it is only one calm maid that steadily steps forth. The one holding me. Oh woe is me.


    "Thank you Noemi. Oh there there my Rosalia, that''s my good girl. Don''t cry. Mama''s here."


    My money!!! I''m not crying of all things but how can I not feel the loss and pain?! I don''t want a bath I want money! Give me a bath tub filled with gold and money!


    The maid Noemi removed my precious bag and outer layers down to a simply kiddy chemise. She lowers me in gracefully despite my hiccuping frustrations. All the way until I''m buyout in mother''s hold. Not that it''s really necessary. There is something even more buyout and supportive floating right below me.


    Don''t look down, it''s nothing I haven''t seen before but don''t look down Rosa girl. Ah what troublesome things. These womanly weapons of personalized mass destruction are really too lethal.


    "Is the water too hot my dear? Hmm?" mother splashes the water gently down my back.


    A child''s skin is sensitive but I shake my head in honesty. This temperature is fine though the steam is a bit uncomfortable to breathe through. Very bad to cry through. But the water is soothing.


    "No mother."


    "My my my isn''t this nice? It smells so nice~" mother signs into the water, her hand playing with some floating flowers. She picks a whole one, playing with it into my hair.


    "Hmm not quite red, but yes this does color does suit my darling. Isotta, make sure to get more of these tones in the cloth imports the lord is sending."


    "As you wish my lady."


    "Madolina, remind me. Is there anything further to see with the packing? Any matters left to attend?"


    "All is done and seen to but for the day of your departure. Please rest easy and relax my lady."


    "Yes this bath mixture is quite relaxing. I can hardly wait to try them all out." mother chuckles, accepting a chilled goblet of citrus-and rose-infused water. I guess that makes it tea?


    Either way, this is too luxurious. Damn rich people.


    But I suppose I''m one of them now.


    It''s easy to see where Rosalia''s demanding expensive tastes came from. Just look at this shit. While it''s not Gable''s magic fast tap, my home has scarily good plumbing for this world. Something that a young Rosalia didn''t even realize was not the norm outside any of the family properties.


    For years she thought she was being mocked and insulted whenever visiting elsewhere outside, and a wooden barrel of hot water was presented for her baths. Especially on those forced trips to see the stupid prince in the north.


    Damn it how was she supposed to know that rustic shit was supposed to be top of the line outside of spa houses.? It was basically a wine barrel and a shower curtain! Nobles have all sorts of supposedly clever ways to undermine and plot your authority and reputation. What was a ''countryside'' noble girl supposed to think when every day I normally have taps and actual bathrooms?


    The old man may be crazy but he''s a crazy good builder. A cheat. Thank you very much grampa for the blessing that is indoor plumbing I can enjoy my whole little life. Not even some foreign royals have baths this good and convenient.


    Only the best of the best will do for a Ventrella woman. Isn''t that obvious?


    "Milkies! Mama Lily wanna play in flower milkies too. Mama!" Lily cries, her drink only half finished.


    For good reason, no one releases her. Especially with the way her mouth opens and drools at the tub.


    "Oh but my Lily dear, can you stay good like your big sister and not drink the bath water?"


    "Uh huh!" Lilyanne vigorously nods her head, loose curls bobbing around.


    Drool still seeps from her mouth as she eyes what must look to her like a giant fancy saucer of milk. The pretty flowers floating around with streaks of essential oils. Given her past history of eating dirt and trying to eat little boys, I say we can''t trust her.


    "Hmmm my little rose, does this feel nice~"


    "Yes mother."


    "So nice and clean yes, soft and fair. Not at all for drinking or eating?"


    "No mother. It''s a bath and you filled it with salt and oils. It doesn''t even smell edible, I''m three not stupid."


    "Oh ho hoho that''s my smart little girl. See, we keep our pretty little mouths closed in the water." mother partially dunks me partly for a demonstration to my younger more impressionable sister. Only up to my neck, the water line grazing my chin at most. In her own amusement, she does this a few more times.


    Dunk in dunk out, a little bouncy bounce. Ah I feel so infantized.


    "Isn''t this fun?" mother chuckles, face dazed in squishing my chubby little arms.


    ".....yes mother."


    Like hell I''m risking my own life by denying her. I''m so vulnerable like this. She could drop me, drown me, or even hug me in her naked bosom. Oh the horror!


    In water, however, she''s much more careful in her usual hold. I rest comfortably when I''m not being actively played with. It''s been years since this woman gave birth to me but she still squishes my fingers and toes with sparkling fascination. As if they were the paws of a pet cat, little toe beans. Squish squish squish.


    Since I''ve been trapped and incapacitated, my eyes roam about her personal bath. From the imported artisan carved marble to the meticulously glazed tiles and embedded gems. Shelves of carefully organized bottles of oils and bath salts, from her own collection rather than anything stolen from my research rooms. Low glowing golden lamp carved in the likeness of clamshells sit firmly attached to the walls, but aromatic candles still light the room. A closed off wooden suana room but a few paces away. A nearby fountain shaped as a much larger clamshell, glazed in a pearly luster, creates a small cold pool to rise off in.


    It''s really leagues ahead of what is common among the nobility in these times. At least for their personal quarters.


    When mother leans back, allowing me to rest free against her, the maids get to work in applying a powdery paste on her face, shoulders and upper arms.


    "What''s that?" I ask, not recognizing the product as one of my own.


    "Oh ho ho this little thing? I''ve heard around and from a little bird that the powdered peels of pomegranates are good beauty and wanted to switch up from the usual orange peels. Somehow that infuriating father of yours heard and sent me amphoras of the stuff. It''s even more than the time I was looking for pearl powder."


    "Oh. I see."


    " That awful man had such beautiful pearls the size of papa''s fists ground and shaved down in front of me!"


    While that does sound like father, something bothers me.


    Is it the peels? No no, I recall those being natural beauty items in any world. The use of orange peels is quite common in my household and territory. Used from household cleaners to a lightening beauty paste. Why not another fruit?


    Mother is already quite beautiful in her natural state. But it''s many women''s passion to be even more lovely or maintain their youth and beauty. Even Rosalia wasn''t immune, orange peels, pearl powders, imported creams from the capital and ports. She bought lots of things for herself and any of her... needed subjects.


    An unfortunate thing that Rosalia was rather insecure about despite the gorgeous genetics passed down to her was skin tone. She wasn''t as fashionably pale as Lilyanne.


    Nor was her hair as light and fluffy? It bordered the line between blond, which was the most attractive and must have shade at the time. I swear Lilyanne must have dyed it further. I recall it was all the rage for young noble ladies to apply all sorts of formulas and idly laid there in the blazing sun, covered up except for their hair, till it bleached their heads as close to blonde as possible. Due to competition and unreliable products, one would often hear scandals about how this or that lady suddenly had a head of green hair or who died of a toxic scalp infection.


    Hahaha, what amusing tales. Er I mean, how sad and horrible. It''s really hard to trust the products going around in this world.


    Looking back on it now, wasn''t my sister''s paleness just a sickly pallor?! You know, the kind of pale that dying people have?


    While Rosalia was as careful as any noblewoman, at least she went outside. Lilyanne was more of the cooped up sheltered type. Thus she had the untouched skin of a weak white eggshell. Practically colorless except for the pretty pink blush that might have had a lot of help from rogue.


    For some odd reason, she always got unreasonably mad when I asked about her hair. Guess she didn''t want to be called out even by her own sister.


    Looking over to the healthy chubby little toddler that she is now... it''s scary to think about that future.


    Meanwhile, my mother down here is looking like a mythological goddess in the bath. She isn''t the current trend of corpse pale but after all her careful skincare routine, it''s as soft and milky as a child''s.


    I would know. I am one.


    "Mother is already very pretty. You don''t need to do all this?"


    Father will love you even when you''re but a sickly shadow of yourself. He will love you despite it all, when all the softness and color drains from your weak body due to the curse of bad health, not because of it. I would know.


    I was watching. I have that bad habit.


    "Ohohoho my baby, you''re so cute! " mother coos, squeezing me in her arms.


    Maybe it''s because they''re young, younger than my memory ever allowed me, does it seem like they''re more in love. Happier. Healthier.


    But hey what do I know? I''m just a not casual enough viewer.


    "Rosalia, Lilyanne, my babies are so cute. Just the cutest little girls! When mama was little, she could only dream to be so cute." mother sighs as if she bit down on something sour. "If left to your grampapa, you wouldn''t ever turn out as bad as I was....your papa would never call me cute or pretty back then."


    "...uh...ok?"


    "He called me all sorts of cruel things. The worst part was that he was perfectly serious about it, as if he was saying the sky was blue or that water was wet. AH no, mercy for a maiden''s delicate heart...In turn I had to mercy for his then delicate bones...."


    "...."


    "Ah but it was really unfair how cute he was, no matter what. So unfair!"


    How...is father even alive? You know what, I just won''t think about it. Problem solved.


    "My lady, I''m sure you were an unbearable beauty as a child."


    "No, papa left me to roam about in mud and blood. Darling was painfully right for thinking I was a wild beast...." mother waves off the praises of the maid on the left.


    "My lady, even the Lord was a young boy once. And they are quite mischievous, unlearned in how to treat the fairer sex. Many a schoolboy is a great bully to the girl they like."


    "No, darling didn''t even know I was a girl.....for the longest time..." mother sinks lower down, away from the maid on the right.


    "My lady is a priceless gem beyond worth and compare. Merely undug and unpolished to the heavenly treasure you are. Even the cute young misses would not be so loveable when buried in mud...or cheese" wisely praised the older maid working on adjusting mother''s tied hair. Making sure the pomegranate face mask applied cleanly.


    Something about it still bothers me. Not the paste specifically, it''s not like it''s toxic lead-filled white makeup or anything. Something father and Alfonso would never allow to cross through the territory''s trade borders or even in our capital mansion, no matter how fashionably popular it got. But something about it...


    I stare too long, for mother waves and allows the older maid, Madolina, to plop a stick of the paste right on my nose. It smells clean and mild, not much like anything but the pleasantly added rosewater and lemons, a common mix in my own usual baths. Not like I would expect...


    "...Pomegranates. Father sent you....pomegranate peels...in this season."


    "Mama! Lily too! Lily''s turn! Rosa no fair!"


    "Oh my, does my little Lily promise to be good and not go drinking things she shouldn''t?"


    "Yep yep! Lily wanna play with mama too!"


    I stay limp in my thoughts, going along with the maids gentle hands as they switch me out for Lilyanne. Wrapping my wet form in a fluffy towel after rinsing me clean in rose water.


    Am I over thinking things?


    But I catch the reflection in a nearby pool of clean water. Candlelight highlighting the amber glow of my eyes, and red coming through on my growing head of hair. I see not the soft unassuming beauty that is my mother but something sharper, even on the face of a young child.


    No, of course not. This is the father I know. A man worth fearing.


    "...Pomegranates?"


    "Is the young miss curious?" the maid drying me off asks.


    Noemi does her job perfectly, from wrapping me up to seating me down for a refresher. A cup of cold beauty water like mother''s instead of the milk Lilyanne stuffed herself on. When she mixed in a spoon of pale reddish powder and honey, I find the taste to be not unpleasant.


    "The whites are bitter to the taste, so the lord sent them separately. The instructions were written that drinking powdered peels are good for the throat, the heart, and even to cleanse of toxins. Safe even for children." she describes, more to mother than to me.


    "How marvelous" mother sips her goblet, her other hand keeping a giggling Lilyanne from diving down. "Darling always learns strives to learn strangest but most wonderful things."


    There''s nothing I can do, is there? Nothing.


    Does it even matter? Rosalia was no saint. Far from it. I can''t judge, I share the same blood as that man. Everything we do will benefit us in some way. There are no useless endeavors, no bad investments. No mercy to our enemies.


    "Rosalia darling, what''s wrong? You''re being oddly quiet over that."


    "...Nothing mama." I blink up.


    I look at the beautiful visage, in a room that must cost more than what thousands of people could ever earn in their lifetime. At my beautiful in her luxurious bath and the silly stupid little girl that would get it all in end. All this wealth and beauty.


    It wasn''t easy to get here, and it will be even harder to protect. I know that personally. Nothing is ever gained without effort. Nothing is ever easy, not really. It''s a lesson I''ve bleed over.


    "I know my little troublemaker. What is it now my love? You''re looking awfully hard, it''s how your Papa or grampapa get around a problem they can''t yet solve."


    "Am I like them?" I gulp.


    I don''t know why and chug down the rest of my cup. No anxious for an answer at all. There is no answer. Anything mother says will be empty air, sweet talk. She knows nothing, they all know nothing. I''m not even actually a child of this house. It will all go to Lilyanne.


    "More than you want to be, I know my sweet. I know."


    No, you don''t. You don''t know anything. You live in a dream as beautiful as yourself. You don''t know what I''ve done, everything I''ve done.


    Lily knows nothing and she gets everything. She always gets everything.


    And then she''ll die.


    Pathetically. Because nothing is ever easy. Not even for perfect little Lilyanne. It will just take a while, a very long while. Past this childhood, past years from now. Time ticks so slow, it feels so long and yet I don''t want it to end.


    "It''s very hard my flowers, to want to be seen for what you are and not the after image your father left behind. Your mama is very sorry then, for loving someone who casts such a marvelously tall shadow. For making that your papa, I would know...Hmmm."


    "Shadows scarwy mama?" Lily asks, clutching at her mother.


    Yes, shadows are very scary things. But it''s every scarier when they''re gone. I really do wonder just how my sister lived without me. All the way to that end.


    "No. No they''re not my darling. They''re a little scary yes, but so very safe to me. I can''t imagine any other men in my life, scary or not. Let alone one I pick. No one else will ever do."


    A very touching scene, if her face wasn''t covered in paste.


    Lilyanne makes an oooooing sound, which means she understood absolutely none of that. Yep, I have a lot of work to do.


    "So there''s no way out. Is there, mother?"


    Underneath the mask she gives me a strange look and smile. It oddly gives me the same feeling like the crazy old man, when he goes in circles saying things that could but don''t mean anything. When he finds something amusing but is too lazy to do anything about it.


    She sips at her goblet and I see it as the wine always in grampa''s hand.


    "No. But there''s no need to get out of anything. My flowers just need to grow." she taps at Lilyanne''s nose, "flowers don''t compare, they just grow and bloom. Grow up tall and strong, and you''ll cast your own shadows. Hmmm, just not too strong..."


    Sometimes mother scares me. Not just from the face mask. Before it was when she laid sick on her bed, by Lilyanne''s feverish side, waiting by the window for someone, anyone, to come back to her. Anyone except me that is.


    "How nice it is to be young."


    I heard her murmur once, under the wave of her fan. Hiding a smile that I''m sure would just feel eerily too much like grampa''s.


    I remember I was sore that day, from ridding too long on horseback just the day prior, because I foolishly insisted on keeping up. I remember how my fingers were still wrapped up and stinging beneath my riding gloves. I remember my guts roaring in pain, feeling weak but too exhausted to try and have another tiresome meal. Having vomited out everything after that day''s physical lessons. Fencing or dance, maybe both, mixed with those annoying etiquettes- it all looks like a swirling blur in my memory.


    A dark hole in my gut, a gaping hunger that would never be sated.


    "Keep an eye on her Alfonso," her voice carried, sweet as a canary, "I already have one weak child. We can''t, no. We ''won''t'' do with another. No matter what my husband... ''spoils'' her with. Unacceptable, am I understood?"


    I ran. I might as well have stabbed that hole into myself. I expect nothing and I still am disappointed.


    An old story.


    "Aaaand, that''s enough now duckie!" mother holds Lilyanne up high, smacking her little back to make her cough back up the bathwater.


    "Waaaaah not yummy!" Lily spits and sputters, flower petals spewing from her open mouth.


    "What have we learned today my dear?"


    "Waaaaaah!!! Waaaaah!!!!"


    "Oh my precious, most wonderful beautiful gift from the gods and godesses, seed of my beloved, if you keep crying with your lovely mouth so open won''t more soapy bath water get in? It was awfully bitter wasn''t it hmm?"


    Mother, not at all threateningly oh no, lowers Lilyanne down slowly. Something that causes the toddler to hiccup even more tears and cries, but ultimately puckers her bitter lips closed. Even using both her small hands to cross and block her mouth.


    "Oh ho ho that''s my girl! We learn from our mistakes, even if we were clearly warned against it~"


    Ahhh how scary.


    The now good little child is rewarded with a rinse of water, a slice of cheese with a grape and a comforting bounce cradled in mother''s arms. All before mother hands Lilyanne up and over to the maids.


    With a twitch of her finger, a maid refills her goblet with something that is very much not water while another drops steaming hot rocks into the tub, reheating the milky water. For no good reason at all, a maid showers the tub in a rain of fresh flower petals. Somewhere in the unseen background, someone starts playing the lute in a relaxing spa-worthy melody.


    God damn rich people.


    "Now then, what else is on my other girl''s scary little mind?" mother asks, almost lazily.


    I don''t dare have an outburt, not a reaction at all. I''m the scary one? Excuse you- er um , no of course not. I would never be so rude and stupid to stand up to mother. Scary. Too scary. I may have done shit as Rosalia but somehow it''s not even comparable to this one delicate lady?!


    Afterall....why else would someone like father marry her? He''s not normal either! Ahhhh scary. Too scary.


    "Nothing mother. Nothing at all."


    "Impossible. Your rosey little head is always spinning, oh I do so worry about you copying those bad habits."


    "I''m sorry mother, I can''t turn off my brain. There''s no option for that. Also I fear I may end up ...drinking soap instead of making it."


    Properly wrapped up, Lilyanne next to me starts stuffing more fruit and cheese into her mouth. As if to wipe the lingering taste. She eats so quickly that she accidentally misses, getting a chunk of cheese up into her nose.


    The future heroine. A face so beautiful, a girl so graceful and good that she''ll bend a harem of high spec. men to her every whim and unintentionally an army of worshipful admirers. This ideal perfect woman in her infancy years. And she''s still eating with cheese stuck in her nose.


    You really don''t want two of that, mother. Best to leave my head the way it is, villainess material or not.


    Mother sighs and a well-practiced maid, showing none of the cooing concern or softness that our nursery maids have for Lilyanne, takes a handkerchief to her little button nose. Then proceeds to strongly pat my sister''s back till she blows it back out.


    Sometimes the memories of the past and the reality in front of me is just too much of a contrast. Ah but if I think back with a clearer mind, if I put aside the haze of insecurity and contrasting feelings from the original, wasn''t this girl always an messy airhead?


    .....yes, yes she was.


    It was annoying as it was useful. So easy to distract or play her into doing something. The only problem...was everything else.


    "Mama? Lily wants a story." she sniffs, snot freshly wiped from her face and already distracted.


    Ah the whims of a spoiled little princess are unpredictable as ever. She''s only so small now, with the wants and needs of any toddler, but I shudder to think of how she''ll be in a few years with the harem under her control. Ah I really don''t want to deal with that circus again. There''s already too much to deal wth.


    "Oh? Another story my Lily dear? What kind shall it be today?"


    "A luuuuuuuuuuuve story!"


    I face palm. My whole life''s a major problem thanks to her love stories, specifically her own. It''s pathetic how I''m tied to this.


    Mother hums in thought as if to decide which one of the many basic romantic tales to amuse Lilyanne with today. The only problem is that most of mother''s materials are either gossipy talks from other noblewomen''s tea parties or tales from travelers and troop members that should never be repeated to children. She thinks and thinks, sinking herself down into the water until she''s full submerged, washing off the mask and paste.


    "Mama''s got it!" she splashes up suddenly.


    For no good reason at all, my hands move to cover Lilyanne''s eyes. It''s just instinct. Maybe I should have covered my own. Ahhh what dangerous weapons, how do they stay that bouncy at her size without supportive clothes? What are those proportions? Plastic surgery doesn''t exist in this world so everything is all-natural? This is just unfair.


    "Today''s story-"


    "Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuve storwy!"


    Hey....can I just leave? Maybe go wack father with an amphora of some of that pomegranate powder? It''s for a good cause, I swear.


    But mother''s maids are not only much more observant than my own, they''re also scarily organized. In the time I wasn''t paying attention to my surroundings, a folding screen has surrounded Lily and I, preventing any subtle escapes.


    At least my water cup has been refilled....thanks Noemi.


    "Yes today''s looooooove story shall be a tale of the gods."


    "Oooooooh!"


    Oh come on. I''d boo and throw grapes if that wouldn''t get me punished by mother. I can only throw them into my own mouth.


    "A long time ago, long before the seasons were set, there was a god. The youngest of three brothers. Then the world was split into three, one claimed the skies, another our sea, and the eldest, who burned the longest, held the earth and all that lies underneath."


    "Wormies?"


    "Listen to all the story quietly and politely Lily." I stick a whole pitted fruit into her mouth...we''re working on it.


    "Hmmm not quite. For Dis was the lord of all the land down under."


    So Australia? Does Australia even exist here? The map of the world must be all different. No worries, I popped grapes into my own mouth. No weird commenting here.


    "Gems and jewels, gold and all precious matters and metals. He was a rich god-"


    Oh now we''re talking


    "-the wealthiest of all for everything will one day come to the earth and into his hands. Everything. The fertile earth, the world deep down under the crust, where bones lie to rest in the end. Dis was the Lord of the underworld."


    Awww what good is money when you''re dead!? How is this a love story?


    "For all his riches and power, he was...a lonely god. "


    Oh no, I see where this is going.


    "Hidden. The land of death and riches scares many, for it cannot hold life. It cannot keep flowers, not till death. Then it keeps it forever."


    Lilyanne whimpers and I stuff another grape into her face.


    "One day, in the busy busy work, oh they''re always busy, of a god, Dis came across a flower that would change him forever. He fell in love."


    My sister swoons in her towel and I can''t roll my eyes far enough. For god''s sake, she''s three!


    "In a meadow, the loveliest flower of them all bloomed. Prosperina was the daughter of a powerful goddess. Ceres, who rules over the harvest, and green life on earth. With it came the power of life. Life sprouted in her hand and the land blossomed at her feet with every step. The god who had everything will have everything, did not have love, and for the first time and only time. He fell."


    You know I feel this classic tale would be a lot more effective if mother wasn''t naked in the tub. But hey Lilyanne seems to like it.


    "Besotted, the god begged his brother the god of the skies to help him. For he knew Ceres would never bless her daughter to descend to the underworld in union. And so the gods plotted and came up with a plan."


    I don''t like the lesson this is teaching Lilyanne! No bad Lily! Stop sparkling!


    "One day, when the time was right, Ceres descended the earth with her darling daughter. While Ceres worked, because work is all the might strong people like to do- work work work, off to another foreign land. Oh it''s all very important yes, saves sooo many people. Such a hero. Ahem, and thus left Prospina to play, accompanied by her friends the nymphs."


    "What are neemps?"


    "...Like the water faires in the picture book Lily."


    She accepts the answer and continues listening on to mother''s tale.


    "They had great fun in the way they often do. With pearl and flower wreaths, the beauty of two worlds. But a flower caught Prosperina''s eye. A spring flower so lovely she must leave her friends to follow and pluck. And that was a flower planted and plotted by the gods. So strong and deep was this flower that Prospina must heave and pull. She must have wanted it so to keep going and pull she did. Till it unearthed, and the land broke. From there a whole new world emerged."


    "Whiskers!" Lily gasps, remembering an entirely unrelated story.


    "There are two ways this tale goes my loves. One. A blazing black chariot, covered in riches and built with all things fine and magnificent burst forth pulled by strong steeds beyond our realm. Oh you father does love his horses, how many more does he need? Oh, oh ahem, no this mystical chariot was from the underworld. The sudden show frightened poor Prospina, rooting her to her spot. Till he, divine as a god, beautiful as death and gold could be and more...took her!"


    Lilyanne nods as if in perfect understanding, which is hilarious given her little toddler face and the fact that I''m sure she''s imagining the wrong characters here. Does that make Lukas Persephone in this?


    "In another....she walks down. Down the hole to meet who the fates had always foreseen. She walks into love, slowly, then all at once, she falls."


    Great now mother is swooning. This is where she gets it from!


    "In the first telling, Dis abducted young Proserpina, taken away from her mother and all that she''s known. Her pitiful cries hardly sounded out for it happened all so fast and down they descended. Either way, they fall deep to the dizzying pits of the underworld, where she was to be wed and made wife. To be crowned his eternal queen of the night."


    Bad Lily, stop swooning and giggling. No! Mother, what are you teaching her?


    "When Ceres returned, and could not find Prosphina on any surface, the goddess raged as much as she mourned. Raged and raged, turning the nymphs to sirens and the land to dust. Scouring the earth, Ceres left all her godly duties to search. Left life and heart, left the people to suffer for she suffered so, in the loss of a daughter named Proserpina. That is the love of a parent to a child. And so the earth grew barren, crops withered and nothing could be grown. Death had come early for them all."


    You know mother is actually not so bad at this storytelling thing. A little overdramatic but hey that''s what people generally like.


    "All the mortals could not take it, and neither could the gods. They came together, with the god of the skies, to beg the truth and for Dis to return the maiden, his taken wife. Lest the world perishes in anguished hunger. Dis, that beautiful lonely god, so smart but so foolish in love, without the sense to show it, with no one ever to show him.... agreed. But this my dears, was not the end."


    Hey uh, I''m sensing some bias in this retelling. A bit of projection for someone very very shady.


    "To love....sometimes means to let go, and so he swore with a smile. To release the young goddess back into the light. But to eat was to accept, and those who ate the food of the underworld were bound to it. Some say she was tricked, some say she was tempted to sin, others could say she was so terribly...hungry. Before any mere gods but her own could stop her, Prosperina had taken to her lips-"


    Mother shakes the jar of pale pink powder, swirling it ominously. From behind the tub a maid makes more steam rise while another presents mother with a refill of wine and pomegranate powder.


    "...but a few measly clotted seeds of a split pomegranate!"


    More steam rises. A few maids in the background control the lighting by turning it on and off. Lilyanne gasps at it all but I just want to know when they coordinated this? Oh god how did they turn the lights red?!


    "And so for each seed she ate, was a measured month Prosperina was to stay in the underworld where her throne awaits. Her return to the surface brings forth spring and summer when our mortal lands ripen and burst with life. The long contented walks across lands with her dearest mother and the mortals thrived. But should the day come to your end, you will see her again, as your queen. For Proserpina takes both, life of her birth and death cannot part a goddess and her darling."


    "....Is it over?"


    "Yaaaaaaaay! And dey live happiwy ever after! And they have Lily and Rosa and we eat lots of-"


    "...Please tell me it''s over. Mother please."


    Lilyanne and the maids all applaud to mother''s delight as the lights turn on, all while I scratch my head. This world sure shares a few similar myths and tales in my world. But importantly I''m still mystified over the fact that the lights can change colors? When did that get installed?


    It''s been more than long enough for a soak and the senior maid Madolina ushers mother out of the bath. The rest flanking to rinse and spritz her off at the clamshell fountain. Her robes ready and then they''re off to complete that glamorous beauty routine for the night.


    My sister blabbers happily while mother moisturizes at something of a vanity, a patient dazed smile plastered on her face at Lily''s cuteness. But I can see as she slowly winds down, tired out from...nothing. She did have a cup of warm milk and a story?


    "Did you like the story Rosa? You always run off somewhere when Lilyanne asks for one. Maybe papa already told you that one, oh he does know too many."


    "It was alright...you don''t think she was kidnapped then? In the two tales? You wouldn''t say there was another if you only believed in one."


    Mother releases the pins and ties in her hair, allowing it cascade and flow down. In the low light, it shines something deeper than brown or flickering gold. I think of the flowers in her gardens and courtyards. I think of the jewels she has stuffed tight in drawers upon drawers in the maze that is her closet. I think of why I always unreasonable fear her, in any life, for any reason.


    I think there''s a lot I don''t know about everything, everyone, and it scares me.


    "....the world has many voices, and they will tell a story however they like my Rosalia. In the future...you may hear many stories you won''t like. About us, about you." mother sighs, clapping her hands lightly in calling.


    I patter forth, unobstructed by any maids in her obvious call. While the maids work on her hair, she pulls me up to her lap and focuses on brushing mine. It''s not very long, due to my age and all the accidents and cuts that it went through. Mother''s brush goes through it smoothly, though the curls stay mostly in shape.


    "Do you not like the stories they tell about you?" I ask, trying not to dwell on if Rosalia ever had this much attention. This much gentleness.


    It''s a bitter bottle I don''t want to open. One I don''t have to, not yet. I''ll toast to that ghost one day, shot it down straight. But I can''t yet. I''m not anywhere near ready yet. It will send me into toxic shock, it might even kill me. So not yet, let''s not think about it yet. All I can do for now, is give myself time.


    "It doesn''t matter my baby. There''s too many, nothing but hot lifeless air. What matters is the truth you make yourself. It''s okay not to know it all, despite what your father may make you feel. Ahhh that awful man, looks what he''s done to my cute daughter. Making her think so hard. "


    She pokes at my brow, smoothening it out with a bit a rose water and cold cream.


    This is the part that really scared me, when mother of all people seems to read what I know I haven''t said out loud. She sounds kind of like grampa when it happens and I can''t take it.


    I really don''t know what to make of it. It''s not just scared that I''m feeling, but it''s too much to process just yet. A wine I really can''t have, mother''s eerily watchful eye over me.


    "Pomegranates. I was thinking about pomegranates earlier. "


    "Hmmmm?"


    Scary, all that I do know is that she''s scary. And if she scares me this much....what does she do for her ''darling'' husband? This isn''t me, I''m not doing anything obviously. I''m only three.


    "They''re....Amar''s favorite fruit."


    "Oh!!!"


    Her grip on me suddenly tightens and I gulp for my life, not daring to look up at what may be reflected in the mirror. I''ve seen enough scary expressions of mother today. Let''s keep it at that.


    "Uh huh, he ate so much he got sick. Isn''t that funny? He deson''t even get sick when he eat poison. But... where did he get them from? Can you asks papa? He got so many peels at this time of year."


    The brush stiffens and still in my hair. I try not to sweat.


    "Oh?"


    Ahh scary, too scary. It''s too scary and nothing even happened yet!


    Can I leave yet? Can I just go now? No?


    Of course mother....


    --------------------------------------


    ------------------


    ---------


    (The Bonus you may or may not want)


    ---------


    ------------------


    ---------------------------------------


    Steps sounded out down the hall. He didn''t even bother hiding the sound, quite the opposite really. The man walked briskly, but in no real rush.


    Alfonso wanted him to be prepared, to take the mask. But it really wasn''t necessary nor would he hide. This much was nothing. Child''s play.


    Though it was blatantly clear that these guards had to be retrained, and repositioned....accordingly. Frederick scoffed at the thought, the guards were trained to protect him and his family. Yet here they were. With missing signals and pure silence.


    Now, he could send someone. Someone more equipped to deal with this. With more free time, paid on his gold. He was a busy man, with a schedule packed for months in advance. Granted a good part of that schedule was blocked off for his family.


    It was his life, and so he will do with it what he likes. In the most constructive ways of course. Nothing said poor tastes like bad self-control.


    So this, he will so too personally.


    The hall is dark and the stairs are darker still, yet Frederick does not mind. His steps practiced and easy, even if this wasn''t his own damn home. To rely solely on one''s sight was droll, and anyone who tripped in something so simple deserved what was coming for them in the dark.


    The iron door is sealed yet when he approaches the lock magically undoes itself. As if welcoming is master.


    He doesn''t need lights to know the bodies littered on the floor. He doesn''t need to see to know that their hearts still beat, slower than what was considered natural, but beat they did.


    A familiar presence greeted him at his feet, the slight hiss and rattle all the more assuring.


    "Good evening Ladki, I see you''ve been playing more than usual."


    The snake curled and twisted, it''s black scales pitch dark, barley climbing on to his outstretched arm. Completely unprotected in normal cloth clothes. Or so it appeared.


    A light whistle sounded out in the room, halting the snake''s movements.


    "Noodle. Come."


    And so it goes, recedes and back into the pure dark.


    It takes Frederick a single snap to light it all up. The fireplace burst to life, chandelier burnings with dozens of lights. The sight of the mess annoys him further. They spilled the god damn ink.


    "Of all things, you choose to call her ''Noodle''?


    It was a tad tricky to spot the boy, but children are sloppy, inexperienced. They leave trails and splatter spots. This one left ink stains and ruby red pomegranate seeds.


    The stolen golden human skull being used as a ball was also a giveaway. Frederick liked knowing where all his items were. They did not belong in the ribcage of the hanging beast model. Nor did any stubborn despicable brats.


    "You call her girl. That''s dumber than noodle." the child swings himself up, picking at pomegranate seeds as if they were nuts in a shell.


    In the short amount of time, the much-debated named snake had made it''s way up on the hanging skeleton. Slithering its way across bones to curl around the child.


    "This gas doesn''t make you sleepy?" he asks from above, yawns even. The boy rubs the back of his hand to his tired eyes.


    "I suppose that''s how you knocked them all out."


    Frederick kicks on of his own men, judging him well knocked out. The mess still annoys him more than he would like. This kid really knew how to grate on all the right spots.


    "Uh huh. You schedule them too easy."


    "Left them alive have you? When you could have slit their necks."


    He kicks over another knocked out guard, identity no longer hidden. Unless one counted the occasional messy doodle over their faces. What was more of note to anyone with any sense, was the centipede line, crossed and stitched drawn across every neck.


    Every single one.


    "I could have?" the boy blinks, using a small knife to break apart another section of fruit as he swings lazily. "That''s no fun."


    That''s why they would wake up to. The silent concept of what could have happened. If. If it was that knife instead of the pen. If it was their own blood and veins instead of ink and skin.


    Though one man was left bleeding. The light smell obvious to sharpened sensed if the trail of bloody drool wasn''t obvious enough.


    "My mouth hurts," the boy explains, looking down blankly to where Frederick was eyeing.


    "Yes, you are that age. His, however, won''t grow back."


    "Okay then."


    No remorse. Freckerick could work with that. It meant there was actually hope of making any of this work. Otherwise, the kid was dead meat. Better off as snake feed.


    "I''m getting bored." he bites slowly, partly savoring the tainted juice. Mostly because his mouth really did hurt from the lost baby teeth.


    "Then you''ve learned nothing brat."


    Said brat drops the pomegranate peel, left messy on purpose. Frederick considers all the ways to make the kid''s death look like an accident.


    "You made Vincent stop my doses?"


    "I don''t have the time to repeat everything. We''ve been through this conversation before."


    "I''m getting bored." the boy whines, finally sounding his age. That childish expression much more fitting to his face, but it didn''t match quite up to the words he spoke.


    "Don''t waste pomegranates, they''re already not as good here."


    "This isn''t the place for you to make demands."


    "Hey? Raise the poison dosages? It''s getting boring."


    A gunshot goes off, specimen be damned. It hits at the support beam and goes down with a great crash.


    "Noodle didn''t like that? I think that hurt some people below? Sorry, they still won''t wake up for a while."


    Unfortunately, the boy didn''t go down with it, hopping his way down safely with the use of spare bandages and a large hissing snake.


    "You really learned nothing the last time." Frederick slid his handgun back, sighing in annoyance.


    The physical pain and warning did nothing, the kid was like a roach apparently. A few sparks of his daughter''s shared magic and anyone could be as good as new. Now that, needed some more tests that Frederick would gladly see to personally.


    "I learned their weaker spots? But it was easier to make them sleep. I can''t take too many on at once. Sorry."


    "Shall I have them break all of your bones this time?"


    "Ok. If that means I can increase the poisons."


    Frederick feels the pressure of a day''s work and this in his head. He sighs and gives credit where credit is due, Aishwarya sure did give this brat all the worst parts of her. Obviously seen at the moment was that reckless sense stubbornness, one that led to tense gamble after hanging gamble. It was made even worse with whatever else was at play. Whatever gave the boy those disgusting green eyes and suicidal tendencies that even battle maniacs didn''t possess.


    This brat was going to die ridiculously early without anyone stopping him.


    "I beat them. Does it matter how I did it?"


    "Very. You''re weak. Reckless and weak. You can''t even take on a mere fight head on and you want to raise your poison tolerance even more? At what cost? My own? What does that accomplish? You''re simply too powerless to handle anything further. Try again when you''re actually worth something in a fight."


    "Oh. Okay"


    The kid shrugs, sets the snake down and disappears.


    Frederick really does not want any more messes. That''s why the office rooms were separate. Normally he would have more practiced patience, normally a sloppy little child of all things wouldn''t affect him so much. But this was Aishwarya''s devil spawn so really, he''s not surprised.


    He has no mercy as all twisting and breaking that ankle, personally this time, when it comes to kicking towards his head. He doesn''t mind breaking a bit more than that if it would just make the little beastly thing stay the hell down.


    The only way to strengthen bones was to break them minutely, but if this monster wanted the sped up course well then...


    "Should have stayed down and low brat."


    The boy hisses, neck under pressure and face pressed into a now broken desk. Frederick was thinking of buying a new one anyway. He presses down further, jabbing at spots above vital and nonvital organs. Admittedly the task was harder on children, they were just so small. You never know if you were hitting three or so organs in one hit.


    But since he was handling personally, Frederick made sure that not only did it hurt worse than before, that it would be much harder to detect and heal. Even with daughters'' logic-defying ability. What an honor for the worthless brat.


    If you wanted something done right, do it yourself. True but who has the time for that?


    Can''t be helped in this case.


    Frederick presses on the head, sore mouth, and all and waits for the screams that don''t come. The brat would rather bite his tongue before it comes to that. He wonders if he should just order for all the boy''s teeth to be knocked out, but judging by the brat''s appetite for revenge his guards may revolt. Then he wonders when his girls will lose their first baby teeth. He should look into that in advance.


    But first, there was this to clean up, for good.


    "What did your mother name you?"


    That gets the brat to stop struggling, stop breathing even.


    "You shouldn''t be here. You shouldn''t even exist. You''re a cruel line of mistakes and the tragedy of it all rolled up into one existence."


    A beating press to the lungs but it forces the child to breathe. He has to breathe, even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts. Pain means you''re still alive to feel it all.


    "She''s dead. They say you killed her and you did. No matter what you tell yourself, you and your sick bastard of a father did. She would still be here if it weren''t for you."


    Presses at lungs and holds at the jaw. To prevent the child from doing something stupid. Like mother like son.


    "Don''t bite your tongue if your mother didn''t cut it off for you. I don''t care what she did to silence you already but don''t. Don''t you dare. You''re laughably weak. You could never take him on. You''ll die like a bug before you even get close."


    The choked up blood was annoying. Not exactly easy to clean on silk. The child heaves, in harsh, breathes or gross sobs it doesn''t matter. He doesn''t really care.


    "Your disastrous mother died for you to live. Live for a long time. Don''t waste it."


    Frederick sighs a tired sigh and walks out and away. He''s done his part, overtime. There was a hell more to clean up before the trip, and he''s really not looking forward to arranging the matters with the North. For now, he''ll settle with a hot bath. Back upstairs where the only world that matters live.


    "Jean."


    From above, a dark and tight hooded figure drops to a kneeling stance. Bowing low despite blending in perfectly to the dark.


    "The discipline is abysmal since you left but even more so as of late."


    "Yes my Lord. I shall-"


    "Don''t bother. I take care of it myself....see to the boy."


    "..Yes, my Lord.


    "And Jean....don''t be so soft on him. He doesn''t need it from us, it won''t keep him alive.


    "....."


    "He''s not her. She''s not ever coming back from the grave."


    "....of course not....my Lord."


    "Hmm....carry on."


    He''ll be soft. He''ll stay soft.


    That much Frederick knows as much as he knows how much he''s gotten soft himself. A happy domestic life does that to you. What a trade-off.


    Outside his man, Alfonso awaits him with a fresh topcoat and a powder for his headache. So much to do, so little time.


    "The Lady expects you tonight."


    "Send her my deepest apologies, I''ll be working tonight."


    "The Lady ''expects'' you tonight my young master."


    Ah, that tone.


    "Well then....even more reason to advance the schedule. If I''m going to die by my wife''s hands I might as well clear the list ahead of time."


    "A personally unwise but very productive choice my Lord. The steeds are ready as is a getaway bag. I shall have the lady''s maids perform drastic distraction maneuvers."


    "Excellent, I expect to live another 3 days then. Five if I''m lucky."


    If.


    A lot of things were safer bets. Letting that child live was not one of them. But well, Frederick always considered himself to be a good gambler.


    He wouldn''t try his chances against his beloved wife though.

 116 Grampas rooms- do not touch.

    "Rosalia, Lilyanne, be good girls for papa and Gabbey now alright?" mother warns as the maids packs and hand over our things.


    Today our lovely mother is dressed very sharply.


    Cute hat, cute cloak, cute parts and pieces that make up for a sturdier outdoor outfit. Definitely not a garden stroll dress. Scandalously, it has splits hidden in it to reveal too much leg to be proper for a noble lady and my old favorite beast leather riding boots!


    They were so comfy and never stained with mud, blood and more! Very good bone-crushing stomping boots. Huh? So that''s where I got it from? I''ve never seen mother possess, let alone wear them before so I always thought Alfonso just...you know never mind, I don''t really want to know.


    My my my I guess her closet isn''t all that bad when we can actually navigate through it.


    Why is she wearing that if not out to .... oh dear this spells trouble.


    Father ran away again and hasn''t been seen for over 24 hours.


    I think mother is done waiting. That lonely window where I often remembered mother longingly waiting by for father''s late return somehow shattered.... The maids are still sweeping up the remains of not only glass but mangled broken iron wrought bars.


    Maybe I shouldn''t have interfered and tattled at the time I did... It made it worse when he didn''t show. How was I supposed to know when he he pulls off one of his horseback escapes?


    So mother is not pleased. When mother is not pleased, no one in this household live in peace.


    All efforts to either stop or distract her have failed. The stables have been called while my sister and I have been arranged to be thrown away into grampa''s hands.He''ll take us to the vineyard first while mother....


    ...Just what is mother going to do?


    I don''t know how she intends to find my father. Or what she will do to him when, not if, when she catches him. But I think this is another thing that''s better not to know, ever.


    Even the crazy old man feels safer right now.


    "Safe travels, may it be easy on you mother." I curtsy, instinct screaming to be it''s not mother''s safety I should be wishing for.


    "Mama! Lily wanna go wit mama!" Lilyanne jumps uselessly.


    She hops up and down, crying and tugging at mother''s skirts, begging to be taken along. Innocent to the horrors that await anything involving the contenders for grossest parents in this universe.


    From the dark corner, a depressed grampa is crouched down growing mushrooms because Lilyanne did not return his overwhelming love and affection. What a loser.


    "Oh no no no this is your Papa''s ''special'' time~ Be good now my loves." She kisses us each goodbye, even grampa.


    "Maria! Wait! It''s dangerous out there! Take this!"


    "Papa I''m a grown lady now I don''t need a-


    "Buuuut baaaby girl, it''s just one enchanted shiny. Pleeeease, to ease your poor old pap''s aging heart? Gable would feel better if you were careful too! Look It''s so well polished."


    "Hmmm...well it is shiny....and darling really hasn''t been playing fair as of late... or ever. Hmmpf. "


    Mother actually stops to considers it. Grampa has pulled out a god damn warm hammer out of the mushroom corner, holding the giant handle as if it were toy, and she''s actually considering it?!!


    "You can never be too safe Maria! And just look how pretty it is. "


    "Does it come in another color papa? To match my dress?"


    It''s a HAMMER?! It''s never going to match your dress?!


    But like a magic clown trick, grampa pulls out an even bigger mallet, with spikes. It comes in a shade of silver so polished and shined that it could be used as a mirror. That seems to be acceptable to mother''s tastes in today''s accessories.


    She carries it by the strap as if it were a little purse and wetly kisses us all once again.


    I stare in horror until she finally leaves. Then I turn to stare at grampa.


    "....Why... are you like this?"


    "If I actually knew, we wouldn''t be here pumpkin."


    "Mama!!! Nooooo mama! Don''t weave Lily, waaaaaah mama!!!!"


    Grampa and I look from the rolling toddler on the floor to the very closed front door, back down to the toddler who rolled her way to the said door and keep bumping into it...repeatedly.


    "Hmmm I say it''s safe to blame you for this one pumpkin." grampa scrubs at his chin.


    "Me!? That''s what I should be saying to you! How is any of this my fault?!"


    Bump bump bump. Why does she keep doing that?


    But like the thoughtless lunatic he is, grampa ignores me to pick the both of us up and off. At the very least it stops Lilyanne futile battle with the closed door.


    At first, one would think grampa was taking us down to mother''s quarters, but a turn at the bright atrium leads us down a forbidden path.


    Grampa''s quarters


    Despite not being home all that often, grampa does of course have his own wing, complete with courtyards and rooms. It''s a rather small wing compared to my parents, and branches off the fork of mother''s at the greenhouse-like open space, to grampa''s side of the atrium.


    But just by belonging to grampa, does it have the deepest darkest most dangerous risks.


    Only the most senior servants may go down here, only they can survive the surprises lurking inside.


    From appearances, it looks not too different than the rest of the house. If I could call it a house? That''s Ventrella standards for you.


    Outside the halls and corridors are clean and well maintained. The courtyard gardens are not just well-trimmed but overflowing in well-placed vines and seasonal blooms. Complicated tilework and mosaics cover where an accident may have occurred, making the wing more and more elaborately beautiful with every part and piece that may break. There are more pelt fur rugs and the furnishing is much tougher, sturdier but not unelegant in their simplicity or disruptive in the nonexistent book of interior home design for this world.


    Everything is fit and ready to welcome the old master of the house.


    Inside the rooms however....is an entirely different matter.


    Storage.


    That''s right, it''s a labyrinth of storage! Grand rooms fit for a banquet instead used to host perilous piles of stuff. Stacked into oddly balanced towers, it''s a mystery that could be hidden in there. Treasures or traps? Prototype inventions of mass destruction or mystical items? Souvenirs from travels abroad could mean anything from harmless trinkets to deadly weapons or even gross body parts?


    It is not for the weak of heart or body. A person could meet their cruel end or worse for just dusting through grampa''s stuff.


    There are rumors of men going blind or even insane peering into those hidden drawers.


    There are tales of maids vanishing without a trace, as if whisked away with a cursed artifact.


    Worse of all, there are heros who were once our houses'' servents. Those who gain all their powers, magic or not, thanks to a chance encounter with something in these dark rooms.


    It''s the worse sort of gaccha game.


    And yet people dream of playing. Oh the be assigned cleaning duty in grampa''s quarter! It is both a life-changing lottery as it is a test of will and endurance.


    They''re mostly all talk, the real dangerous stuff is locked away elsewhere. Some people may be mentally scarred but no one went blind from seeing anything. Maybe they got some dust irritating their eyes? And no maids actually went missing for too long. Though one did refuse to return from wherever that magic artifact took her. I heard she took over a far away island and unlocked some sweet magic powers. Ahem.


    Grampa is a messy person, while his standards on what is dangerous or not is pretty messed up. Things happen.


    Thankfully today is not one of those days to live out another rumor to be. Grampa takes us straight through the hazardous storage maze and to his personal resting quarters. Up over the peristyle gardens and possibly man-eating plants to something of a lounge. A very overly masculine and simplified version of mother''s ornate parlor.


    "Play?" Lilyanne sniffs, asking as grampa sets us down.


    Immediately she drops to pet her hands and face all over a fuzzy spotted rug that was once a leopard-like beast. Rolling all around it as if it were a comforting blanket without mother here. The more I watch this toddler the more disturbed I become. Hey, uh is this normal? Are all three-year-olds just this weird or did the grampa crazy genes infect Lilyanne this time around?


    "As long as you stay right here kiddos, grampapa just going to find something. Hmm not that. Hmmm no not there either. Remember don''t touch anything outside this room!"


    Strange things are flung and rummaged around. From foreign swords to monkey paws, off grampa goes to last-minute pack whatever it is that he needs. I assume he means not to touch anything that might have fallen over from his rummaging.


    I play with the awful collection I do see, swiping anything valuable and missable into my space bag.


    WHat? It''s not every day we get safe passage through the maze of stuff. It''s not like grampa would miss anything?! Just look at all this gold laying around like it''s nothing spare change, which to grampa I''m sure it is.


    "Rosa dis too! Lily want dis one too." my sister tugs at my arm, distracting me from my petty change gathering. She points to a sizeable half-dolphin shapes creature fountain made of a swirling bluestone, spitting out water from the blowhole.


    "Lily, we can''t take everything. That and it''s too big."


    "Rossssaaa, I want it."


    When she pouts and turns those watery cow eyes at me, it almost physically hurts. She''s so cute that it turns working brains stupid. If I was a harem boy I might have snapped and done everything in my power to break the dolphin from its watery pedestal and present it to her all wrapped up in a bow.


    But now, I have a much sadder role. Her sister and lifelong babysitter.


    "Ask grampa or something. Where would we even put it?"


    "Ummmmmm bed!"


    "No Lily, we can''t have a water fountain in our bed. That will be very wet and uncomfortable."


    "Buuuut Rooooooosssssaaaa."


    "Try to fall asleep in the fountain Lilyanne. Go ahead. Climb in and tell me that belongs in our bedroom."


    "Okay! And den you have to get it for me, pwomise?"


    "Surrrrre Lilyanne! In fact, bring the dolphin right over to me and I''ll magically fit it into my tiny purse. Just break it right off and carry it over. "


    "Yaaaaayyyy!!!"


    And so goes the little heroine, who can''t even climb over the fountain''s marble smooth edge to the water let along make her way into the center.


    Sometimes sense and explaining just does not work, especially if the subject is Lilyanne. It''s much easier to let her face reality the hard way. That worked on the stubborn teenaged her, why not the toddler?


    Huh, I wonder if I should be concerned how she''s no different in that aspect?


    As I go back to picking up loose gold, coins and even seashells, as they''re a foreign currency, the original''s memories play for me the case examples. Of the not so bright moments of Lilyanne Ventrella, the fairest flower of the land, and the abuses she suffered over the years at the hand and mouth of her evil twin sister.


    There was that time I told her my horses were actually cursed people, and very enjoyable company compared to her. So she went crying and tried telling all the stable animals to ''reveal'' themselves. Much to the poor stablehands confusion. When I told her they needed a kiss to undo the spell, she nearly got her face bitten off.


    Or that time I told her pretty baby girls were born from eating the most beautiful flowers. That our mother ate a rose and lily for each of us. She went out and got sick from eating our garden. The gardeners were aghast to find their prepubescent young lady crying bitterly as she stubbornly chewed in the flowerbeds.


    Some of it was for the greater good, her own good.


    You don''t tell a teenaged girl to stay away from boys pursuing her, you scare the hell out of all of them. SO what if I may have gone a little overboard on occasion with the secret guards. If they were stupid enough to fall for my petty little tricks, all the more reasons.


    Shame it didn''t apply to that stupid fiancee of mine. But it was also my fault. My oversight and my arrogance that let it get that bad. I never thought that boring rock was ever a legitimate canedite for her harem. I didn''t think either of them capable. The beautiful airheaded girl captivated anything the moment she blinks at them. It was easier to ask who wasn''t in love with her at that time.


    I never thought it was serious. I never thought Lilyanne would be swayed by him. Tru love? SOmething I would know nothing of?


    True, but they''re idiots. All idiots. They deserved to drown in-


    "Waaaah Rosa!!! He-urp-lp!"


    "Lily!?!"


    Somehow Lilyanne has gotten over the first hurdle while I was looking distracted! She successfully climbed over the bench and made her way into the fountain. The problem is that she''s tiny and actually can''t swim.


    Oh come on!


    "Lilyanne! Stand up, come on stand right up and hang on, it''s not actually that deep. Big sister is coming."


    "Waaa Rosaaaaaa!!!"


    "Keep your mouth clothed you dummy! Head above water."


    Ah really, you can''t just keep your eyes off her. Not in any lifetime. She keeps getting into all sorts of trouble on her own. I climb on over to pull the not exactly drowning girl out.


    She''s just stronger than she looks. Really now, if she didn''t squirm and cry so much I feel like I really could have pulled her out with minimum trouble. My strength is adequate enough but it really is slippery up here.


    Thus when grampa comes back in really not that long amount of time, it''s two soaking wet toddlers under the flowing fountain. One very tired and unpleased one, while the other cries her head off in pain and panic as I choke maneuver all the water out of her lungs.


    "Why Rosalia! I''m so proud of you two, so full of youthful vigor! But I don''t young Lilyanne is ready for an underwater battle to the death? Perhaps next year, when your both bigger and sturdier!"


    "Hurry up and get us out of here your old crazy! Lily can''t swim and it''s too slippery to climb back out!"


    "What do you mean she can''t swim?! When your mama was your age she could breathe under-"


    "We''re not mother!!! Just what?!"


    In adult sizes, the fountain really isn''t that large. So it comes to no surprise when grampa reaches us in one step and scoops us out with nothing but his own hands.


    Next time I''ll dare Lilyanne to be less stupid, as not to drag myself into any messes. Or at least less of them.


    From across the room, I hear a familiar ringing sound.


    The fake phone at Gables!


    It rings almost two times before grampa crosses the room to pick it up, with both a still choking Lilyanne and I in his arms. A small decorative bell seems to blink itself to life.


    "Oooooh Hello!" Lilyanne waves into the screen, nose all snotty.


    "Cap! Ahh! The stinky baby!"


    "Lily no stinky, Lily is Lily."


    "Stiiiiiinky goat."


    Despite it being just a screen, Lilyanne curiously swipes at the thing. The child on the other side holds his nose and backs away. But unless the screen is actually a porthole, he''s perfectly safe.


    "Cap cap cap did you find it?! Hi Rosa! Look at this tooth! It''s really loose and makes chewing any bacon kinda funny. But I can eat lots of scrambled eggs or potatoes and molasses but Gable says if I eat too much molasses potatoes it will get stuck to my tooth and then I''ll swallow it! And then I can''t let Cap keep it and stuff because it will be in my tummy or poop. But we can-"


    "Potato? Poop?" Lilyanne understood exactly two things from that.


    "Hello, Lukas. Grampa....make him stop." I pat at the old man.


    "Lukas my boy, does Gable know you''re on the scry?"


    "I don''t know! Gable went out this morning after you did so I don''t think so but Gable knows a lot of things. He said not to tell you because you''re a dummy but he''ll maybe be back in 5 years."


    "What?!"


    "But that''s a very long time, I''ll be like 11! I think he''s lying because he also said we''re having little white sauce meatballs tonight because my tooth is thiiiiis close to falling out and-"


    "Grampa this is not stopping him." I complain, uncomfortable in my dripping wet clothes.


    When I turn up to the old man, he seems to be going through the 7 layers of grief and relief. Tears already welling up in his big brown eyes. Oh great, way to make me feel even grosser!


    "Lukas. I love you so much. Please don''t ever go anywhere." grampa whimpers disgustingly.


    "I can do that! But I Iove you even more cap!" Lukas exclaims, arms raised wide behind the screen.


    How precious, grampa has brainwashed this innocent simple-minded child. How evil. But in return Lukas attacks with sunshine loads of cute cheerfulness. Impossibly wide smiles and arms raised as if for a hug. Such a sight would take down my cute-worshiping mother in a minute.


    The cuteness is so intense it prompts an even grosser sound from somewhere inside grampa''s chest. I think he''s dying. Good.


    "Lily too! Grampapa love Lily too!" my sister tugs impatiently, waving her little arms between grampa and the screen.


    "Of course my wittle pumpkin-pants." grampa nuzzles at her face.


    However, from the matching grin, waves and stupid eyes stuck on the screen, I think Lukas might actually be winning the cuteness battle today. Something Lukas retaliates against my sister with gestures and a...


    "But I loooooooove him thiiiiiiiiiis much and that''s much bigger than you!"


    "No!"


    "Yes! I''m cooler, bigger, and smarter and-"


    "Nooooooooooo. No no no!"


    We''re going to be here all day aren''t we?


    Hey old man, stop being so happy about little mochis fighting over you and get on with it already. You''re not a girl in a love triangle?


    "Grampa let me down. Grampa, I wanna pee." I excuse myself in my impatience. Otherwise, I''ll be stuck here all day, caught in the whims of all these crazies.


    The squirming and threat of a toddler in need of the little girl''s room grant me the freedom I so desperately seek. Grampa''s booming voice echoing behind me.


    "Right to the bathroom and back Rosa. Don''t go touching or exploring or just touching anything!"


    "I won''t!"


    Jeez, who does he take me for? It''s about time to give that shitty old man a reminder of just how not an infant I really am. My head hurts too much from all the things I remember and don''t remember.


    Odd I know, but so is life. Afterall I never saw myself wrestle rescue Lilyanne out of our own fountain? Should swimming lessons me next on the itinerary? Or should we focus it all on her common sense? Hmmm that may be too much work.


    Grampa''s rooms may not be as dangerous as the rumors make them out to be but that''s not to say there''s no risk at all. With one wrong touch, I could be instantly buried in stuff, toppled over their Tetris piles.


    Just treat it the same as going through anyone''s attic. At once both a historic treasure hunt and a nest for spiders and disaster.


    I navigate past the towers of better off unknown items to the baths. There I can rinse and wipe myself off from fountain water.


    To think I need a bath this early in the day already?


    I should just enjoy the peace while I can. This whole life is a headache. I guess I can say it''s always lively around here?


    I was expecting a much more relaxing time as a toddler though, not going to lie. This is the part of life where nothing happens. Or at least that''s the way it''s supposed to be. Instead, I have a very concerning heroine, and a possibly even more concerning rest of my family. No, cross off that ''possibly'' and make it a definitely. There''s a lot the original child that was Rosalia missed in the people who make up her household. They''re the same characters, yet they''re not? I still don''t know how to feel about that.


    Then there are all the minions and mob characters that have gotten involved.


    It might have actually been easier when all I had to worry about were other nobles plotting.


    Well....hopefully I won''t get to that point. I either cut it off early on or I''ll be long gone by then. Ahhh but what use is all the money in the world when everything in this world just sucks. What am I going to do without not just this family''s money, but the magic cheat items they have me spoiled on?


    Say I make off with a great fortune? What the hell am I going to buy when the markets are so rural and empty?


    A one way ticket back to my old world? Ha!


    ....I should stop thinking. It sometimes goes down a weird route.


    I don''t know how to feel about it either. It was sad, but not so bad. I was at the stage in my life where most people would consider ''established''. I had savings in the bank, a nice credit score, too much overtime but an established job that was sometimes fun. When I wasn''t dying over it that is.


    I was always too busy to feel lonely. Even though I''ve always been bad at making friends, I met all sorts of people in strange places. Some of them refusing to go away. What bad taste they all had, sticking around someone like me.


    Bad tastes.


    I could have seen them more.


    I could have taken more time with them.


    No one in particular! Stupid! I meant all of them!


    ...Ah...I actually had a lot of them, huh? When did I come to actually care about people other than myself? Beyond my debts? That was stupid of me. I fucked up too in too many places, then I left all of them.


    Good riddance. I wasn''t a good sort of influence on anyone. I won''t hold anyone back this way.


    That''s good. That boy could finally leave behind that running joke. Ah did he finally bring home girlfriend for his family? Haha, the elder brothers had no hope so only JJ is left to...ahahah I won''t think about it though. I won''t. It''s too weird, too strange. I won''t think about the bitter bile swirling inside me if I think about it.


    I won''t think about how sick it makes me. I''m disgusting enough.


    For him though, I could have talked to my parents more?


    Sucked it up. Tried to fix the things we never spoke about. Make it easier for Heng-Fei, because it was never easy enough for us throughout the years. Never. Even though it was painful in more than just awkwardness.


    That life was really painful. Good riddance.


    There were years worth of things caught in my throat. Like I swallowed a bone and couldn''t force it down or back up. Indecisive. Uncontrollable. Things I couldn''t say even when it''s too late.


    This otherworldly little girl and I are the same in that aspect.


    We watch and wait, choking on something that feels like it will kill us from the inside. We watch as bad things happen all around us, and even if we run it doesn''t stop. So we suffer in silence, we drown in it.


    I dunk my head under the warmed up basin of water. Scrubbing myself soapy clean, as if I could wash away these thoughts.


    So frustrating.


    It''s just so frustrating sometimes. How these useless thoughts come out of nowhere. They have no right affecting me the way they do. They have no right dragging me down.


    I have too much to do to establish myself again. No time for moping!


    No one is going to help me pick up my messes. In the middle of the night or when I''m nastily hungover the next day. No one bringing me banana or coffee milk or anything. Nor should they have to! It doesn''t exist in this world for one, and two no one is that foolish.


    Why can''t I stop thinking about some idiot?


    Alright, I have decided to go take out these very negative and unproductive feelings on another bigger idiot. Say a grampa sized one! Genius. Great plan little ol me.


    The world has so many unknowns. I''ll find my own bananas and coffee, and if it doesn''t'' exist I''ll use up all the resources grampa and father have to offer. They owe Rosalia that much! I''ll make my own sugary empire and get hella rich off it!


    Yes so many plans. So much to do. Can''t just stew over them.


    Speaking of which baths are really inconvenient here.


    For my current size, I use the kiddy basin. But it''s still a slip and slide around grampa''s spa like bathroom as I dry off and get redressed. Everything is just so large. I know full well that this is a luxury I won''t find much anywhere else.


    While my bottomless purse is truly a life saver in this world, in any world, I do wish I had magic. Imagine how easy life would be if I could snap my fingers and have a ''clean'' spell done. Or anything?


    We may have magic in this world but it''s far from making up the lack I feel from modern conveniences.


    There are times where I observe the ''luxurious'' enjoyed by the wealthiest here and sigh at how lacking everything is. The technology gap is just too wide. One would think magic would have some more cheats here but no, it just makes things weirder if just absolutely unfair for the rest of the world.


    That''s a lot of work though, especially to provide for more than one magic run household. Grid water systems are no joke. That also possibly means sewer systems and ahhhh we''re going too far out of my common knowledge. Knowledge that is not always practical in this fantasy backward land.


    But it certainly gives my brains a lot of much more productive topics. Much better than mulling over the past, things that can never change and will never change. Much better than thinking about -


    Ahhh there we go again, lalala I spent too much time in here. Time to get some fresh air and whatever nonsense grampa has in store for us! Let''s focus all we got on surviving the crazy old man and this trip to the vineyards. I will absolutely need it!


    I make my merry way back, navigating through all the curious traps and treasures. Looking is free but touching is not. Curious though.


    But grampa''s room is not the same as my father''s office or underground studio. So I won''t. I absolutely will not touch and open any pandora''s box.


    Almost, I really almost make it.


    It''s not like I touched anything. In fact, I made it through most of the rooms just fine. I even got to the inner garden, the damn dolphin fountain in sight. I just need to cross this one courtyard and I''m home free.


    But an absurdly pretty butterfly flutters by, drawn in by the scent of spring blossoms. I, in a similarly mindless fashion, am drawn to its unique color gradient and delicate beauty.


    I am also very sure it''s not the fanged variety.


    The almost unnatural sparkle of royal purple-pink contrasts against rims of black on the wings. Out under the open sun between these four inner walls, I felt it was as safe a place as any. Besides, I wasn''t touching anything. I was just going to view the beautiful specimen for a little while longer. Much nicer than what must have been waiting for me back with my own little twin sister.


    Do whatever I want. Isn''t that what I decided for this life?


    The creature flutters past the tropical imported bulbs and the common flowering lilies of the valley. Over the star-like dark peonies and around an ornamental pepper. Finally landing itself along a row of slightly lavender like thistles that towered high above me. The highest points were even taller than grampa.


    They weren''t the prettiest things in the garden, far from it, but the lovely little creature settled under the spiny stems to the joints of the leaves.


    There clear nectar seemed to pool like dew drops, a slightly sweet smell reaching even my human senses. The butterfly fluttered slightly but seemed at peace. Delightfully enjoying the food like a fairy does in some child''s dream.


    Until the leaves closed in on it with a sicking crunch.


    Ah.


    Carnivorous plant. Got it. Great selection you got here grampa.


    This is the part where I should move on.


    If anyone asks, I do not get closer to observe the not so slow and honestly quite gruesome digestion process. I do not ooo and ahh over the shadow impression of the struggling crippled butterfly in between thin green leaves seemingly melting away. What kind of nerd would do that? Ahaha, man how do those leaves that small hold up against the force? Nice.


    What''s not so nice is what I spot in between stalks of a carnivorous thistle. An oddly shaped lump.


    Ahhhhhhhh dead body!


    There''s a dead body in and under the garden! It shrunk and it''s getting eaten! Ahhhhhhh!!!


    Grampa! Clean up after your shit better! No one needs to see the evidence!


    Perhaps it''s due to my sudden screaming. Perhaps this is actually a horror story, like the kind I''ve been mercilessly forced to imprint and fear, and I''ve been cursed to be the leading screaming pretty face.


    For whatever terrible reason, the dead badly buried body groans and shifts, as if turning over. It''s horrifying undead form reaching out, a disgusting twig arm branching from the dirt and green. Oh my god the dead body is alive, no no no that''s not what dead things are supposed to do?! AAAHHHHH!!!!


    Being unfortunately well versed in many forms of horror, from big-screen movies to no sleep-inducing podcasts, even scarily ''fun'' parks, all which I can blame on the Parks, I know exactly what not to do if I don''t want to die right here and now.


    I stand my ground.


    Turning my back on it is just asking to be chased down and attacked. I refuse to die a scream queen!


    Carefully, I reach into my sense defying bag. Not for my most dangerous or lethal weapon, but the one I''m most comfortable with.


    The staff!


    With its long-distance reach, I strike first. Intending to damage the ghoul and incapacitate it before making my escape.


    Around the 16th violent smack without any repercussions back, I suspect the ghoul isn''t as bad as I thought. Especially when it starts going "ow, ow, ow?" in a very recognizable little voice, soft as it is.


    "Amar?!"


    "Owww."


    "Oh no. What are you doing buried in grampa''s garden- oh nevermind. Ahh shit, er are you alright?!"


    "...Owie."


    Obviously I take that as a no, hopping through the stalks to where apparently someone tried burying Amar. It''s impossible but he looks as if he''s been here for days with the way greenery has grown all over him, from twisting vines to tiny mossy clover petals. When he rubs a hand over his face and closed teary eyes, lumps of dirt crumble and fall away but the green and flowering clovers remain. Especially on the top of his sleep messy head.


    It''s a kodoma? I''ve hit a kiddy korok spirit?! Oh no I''ve committed a grave sin in harming the cute!


    Amar half yawns and half groans in pain as I try clearing off the plants. After all we''re right next to a carnivorous flesh eating row of them! But the vines are strangely tough and stubborn, having wrapped their way around his neck and limbs.


    "Why are you always in weird trouble all the time?!" I wipe away at what I could, revealing more human children underneath all this dirt and plants.


    "....so loud...too bright."


    "It''s not sleepy time. Come on and help me get you out of this, ack! This is dangerous?!"


    My feet sink into the oddly soft dirt, the feeling comparable to a gelatinous quicksand. If I don''t hop around to change spots often I might as well get buried myself. What the hell?


    The green covered child, who I thought was a corpse, blinks even greener eye slowly. Squinting at the sudden daylight, he tilts his head in questioning.


    "Rosalia? Where is this?"


    "I should be asking you that! Why are you buried here!? Where did you go last time?! Why are these things so hard to get off?!"


    "Oh okay. ...They don''t feel all that bad?"


    "Ah. It''s too late for your brain. You''re going to die. You''re going to get eaten by a stupid plant if you don''t move and, just, grampa! Grrrraaaaampa! Get over here and do some saving!?!"


    "...It doesn''t hurt?"


    "That''s what all people say when they''re dying. Now get up and start cutting, you''re stronger than i am! Grampa! Hurry up already- Oh just...here!"


    I pull out blade and work at the vines. The skin tough and gnarled. The action however causes Amar to yelp and back away in pain, much more so than when I was whacking down with blunt force.


    "Okay. That one hurt?"


    "Oh no, it''s fused with your senses. Oh no."


    "Rosa? Rosalia it really doesn''t hurt like this, I think it''s a good plant? Rosa, you should put down that knife. Rosa?"


    What a horrifying houseplant the crazy old man has planted in our good home. It has infested itself into Amar, a mere child. Unable to think or fend for himself. Somehow it has brainwashed him into defending it. The parasitic weeds must be rid off at once if I wish to save my minion trainee.


    A minion who seems to be trying to be burying himself further away from me. Trapped with no other way to go.


    "It''s for your own good, Amar." I promise, steadying the awkwardly too large weapon in my hands.


    There''s no time for hesitation, even if the ground is sinking slippery and I have mud and vine guts splattered all over me. It really is for his own good that we get this damned thing off, especially at the neck.


    Now stop squirming and stop making this even more difficult for me to aim!


    Unfortunately, the knife drops uselessly as I''m lifted into the air.


    "Now now pumpkin, your stance still isn''t good enough. Nor is it a worthy battle! He''s not back to full health yet."


    "Grampa?! What took you so long?"


    "Ah of all the places you go poking your nose and knife in, I should have known. As expected from my grandchild! Ahahaha!"


    "Grampa put me down! Put me down and get Amar the hell out of there before he turns into bug juice!"


    I yell in the memory of an innocent butterfly that started it all. One that went crunch and is probably digested down to nothing recognizable at this point.


    But grampa simply laughs at me. He either clearly does not understand or this sinking mud hole does not contain the same species of carnivorous plant. They''re just neighbors and not anywhere near as bad, judging from how Amar still dazedly blinks up.


    "That would be bad." the old man agrees finally, nodding to me. Then down to the brain dead brat. Clovers and fresh baby vines blooming evergreen, threatening to bury him whole once again.


    "You wouldn''t want to die that way? Not like that. There''s a lot more to see you know."


    "...Is there?"


    When I stop struggling long enough, I see that young green eyes are actually rather red. Red and puffy. Like a bad case of allergies. Like the aftermath of ugly wet tears I''ve never seen.


    "There''s only one way to find out kiddo." Grampa pats his head, clovers and all, and makes to stand.


    "Wait wait wait, we can''t just leave like that. Are you insane?" I wave wildly, pointing to the kiddy garden plant. But all grampa does it make a show of turning and walking away.


    "Can''t help those that aren''t ready Rosa girl."


    "That''s not how it works?! That''s literally not how it works. You need help when you need it, not when you''re ready for it!"


    "Even those that can''t help themselves?"


    I feel that too close to my host''s memories. I feel that in the scores of helpless weeds, worms, sucking out the life of our lands. Blaming, begging, pointing their filthy fingers at me in condemnation while lifting up another.


    I feel it in how it drains me. Scares me silly like a knife to the throat, my blood burning anxiously inside.


    "That''s different! It''s not even comparable. Crying for miracles ruins everything and everyone. They''ll never come and you''ll die like that. You''ll die or worse."


    It''s not all inside me. It''s spilling out, but from where?


    My tireless mouth? My painfully numb legs as I run? The cut bleeding out from across my throat?


    Who is even talking here?


    The look he gives me is darker than sinking dirt. It echoes of lucid nightmares that have no right bothering me. It feels as if it would bury me alive just as easily.


    After all that even, under the light of day, it feels....dull. No where near the threat that pulsed under my skin. Nowhere do I feel the fear I should for who this man really is. It just feels.... sad. Achingly sad.


    Clovers and more bloom on where dirt streaks against this man. Climbing from fingertip up, green like overgrowth in the old cracks on a broken statue. The scars already there, like trodden land, following a forged path. They bloom as they crawl and I wonder if they would form a crown when they reach up top. Past broad shoulders and a strong cut jaw underneath that dark shade of that 5 o''clock shadow.


    But they don''t. With a flex tenseness of his arm, the vines electrify, turning golden and crisp. I fear the weight if there really was a foliage thick crown of gold resting on his head.


    "Careful there Rosalia."


    When he lifts his scarred burly hand, the gold leaf flutters and falls away. Ashes to the wind. When he brushes it through my awful curls for hair, gold dust swarms my vision. A blowing rain of it, brighter and heavier than a pile of autumn leaves. My head feels at once both drunk and heavily hungover.


    "Careful not to let it eat you alive love."


    I think that''s what the sudden headache says, grainy in the blowing wind. It sounds like grampa''s voice. But a lot of things do. I don''t ever know what to trust in this world, not even myself.


    How do I let something eat me up, destroy me eve, if I don''t even exist?


    I feel myself drop limp against grampa''s chest the same moment I hear an outside voice.


    "Ouch-."


    There''s a hiss, the low groan of a struggle. Tiredly opening my eyes, I look down to see grampa reapproaching the source of the muffled pain. My head pounding with just the simple act of processing what I see.


    Vines oozing sap like blood. A little boy with grit teeth and bitten lips pulling himself out with every cut. Some parts looking too much like human veins when it should just be roots. Some of the sap actually bleeds where bloody green meets the surface of skin.


    I knew it wasn''t a good plant. Dumbass.


    I feel my head roll, eyes forced shut, at the sudden movement, grampa leaning back down. I can''t keep my eyes open, nor my consciousness going. It''s as bad as any heavy hangover I''ve faced as an adult. Multiplied in the sensitivity I feel as a small child.


    "It feels like cutting away a part of yourself and it is. Sometimes that''s what you must do in order to move on. After you''re ready. Maybe you''ll never be ready and that''s where you''ll stay. But it never gets easier, not at the core. It''s in too deep. I''m sorry. "


    Grampa, stop talking. My head hurts too much for this.


    Stop crying.


    Stop that painful noise, wherever it''s coming from. Why is there such crying?


    Make it stop.


    "I''m sorry."


    Why won''t it stop? Why won''t grampa make it stop?! Why does it hurt? It''s just an awful ringing sound and yet it hits as if bruises bloomed all inside of me.


    This stupid plant.


    Stupid everything.


    I fade in and out, my head heavy and stuffed full of cotton as the stupid old man goes on his merry way. The last thing I truly register is how the air changed.


    From something that smelled like too much cut grass mixed with home, to cool oak, deep and dark. The floor solid, echoing with each heavy step he takes. Passing by in a blur are barrels upon barrels of wood, larger than the balloon floats another world away.


    There''s a limp child sleeping next to me. Definitely not my sibling, the lucky child. No, this little boy is too tiredly tear-stained and uncomfortably thin to be anyone else in this situation. I would think all of this horribly messed up, but my head hurts too much to think about anything.


    I do however curse myself for not properly following all the warnings, even grampas. Be good. Go straight through and don''t ever touch anything. Something incredibly bad might happen, who knows?


    All those crazy rumors exist for a reason.

 117 Pinata?

    Ah, the rolling green hills, gently sloping into such a rich valley basin. The treasure trove of minerals and hidden spots protecting the picturesque fields of this warm agricultural paradise. Beautiful sprawling stone farmhouses with their speckled rooftops and romantic lights dot and decorate from the edge to the sunflower filled marshes.


    The flatlands baked in sun perfect for hosting sprawling fields of grapes and abundant olive groves. Fat bunches seasonally harvested on rotation throughout the year to flow life and liquor.


    These are the Ventrella family private vineyards nestled in this basin yellowed green sunshine lands.


    Such an idyllic place, a honeymoon destination.


    Once barren valleys with nothing but the earth and temperate weather, decades of work with the olive and the vine has turned it into something of life and beauty.


    The scenic views at any angle create the perfect ambiance, all the best lighting. Even in the mid of day, this normally harsh sun filtered through overgrowth and trees only serves as a sparkling backdrop to the most beautiful man in the world, no the universe!


    Sunlight spin hair, shining in a way that makes all the gold in the world look cheap. Subline features that would make any highborn princess sigh and swoon, too dazzling to envy. From those strong elegant hands that send pulses racing to that graceful brow and an almost delicate face for a man. A beauty we''re not worthy of. One look a moment too long from his wise smoldering storm blown eyes is enough to send a category 5 hurricane through any mortal''s heart and soul.


    "Rosalia, you were saying something but it''s best to close your mouth. Something will fly in." Gable chuckles, the words spilled from his perfect lips as sweet as the finest champagne.


    Cool blush tinged fingers reach out. Offering my dumb mouth a morsel of sparkling pink droplets in the form of fresh-picked currants. They look like gemstones, tiny beads of rose quartz. When the fruit pops in my mouth, it floods with a delicate taste comparable to sweetly tart lemonade.


    I must have made very funny sort of face, as it elicits a laugh the even heavenly immortals could not hope compare to.


    Ah it''s too much. Who cares if there are no pointy ears, the hotness level of a mature elfen beauty is too far much.


    No one come! No one dare disturb this rare and precious moment.


    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know other people exist, such as the crazy old man who technically owns this worked land we stand on.


    Technicalities. Same technicalities that say I have a sister or whatever. That people live here, to work and breathe life into the land. From the local tenant farmers to the hardworking town of marble miners and all the lives that come from such communities. Troop members stationed on rotation for various strange forms of training as well as Ventrella employees to oversee the vineyards and properties. Maybe some unfortunate tag along minions. Yeah yeah yeah I guess other people technically are around.


    Right now however no one else exists but Gable. I don''t get anywhere near enough Gable time!


    It''s just not fair. He''s always being stolen away somewhere and he''s not surprisingly quite hard to get a hold of. No wonder grampa has a wild time goose chasing him across international borders all these years.


    How are they even friends again?


    Unlike that insane old man, Gable is actually soft and patient with me. Easily obliging to any requests of suggestions should I be lucky enough to catch him in my very limited time.


    It is not only because of the undeniable power of cute at my disposal but because Gable is actually interested in my unappreciated cheat genius. He also does not make me confused as hell with crazy coded riddles, scream in fury and or frightening physical force, or sob my eyes wet and ugly. Unlike someone who does not exist right now!


    Reincarnator meetings don''t go well at all. The crying thing only happened once and I rather not go through that again.


    After that, any information I feel relevant to share with the crazy old man is approached with the utmost caution and precision. Most commonly in the privacy of being largely in public, where grampa can''t turn serious on me. No more sudden kidnappings or pumpkin throwings. Very safe.


    I also practice the hit and run tactic. Where I clearly and concisely, perhaps even a little too frankly, tell him the truth and then run away for my delicate little life. Like throwing a moltav cocktail, you just get the hell out.


    It''s not like grampa talks to me on anything that really matters. Cheapskate.


    It''s too scary anyways.


    Anytime that man gets serious enough to break his foolish character is just too scary.


    Maybe even scarier than mother''s hugs. and that''s beyond horrifying enough. Oh, just throw father''s shady villainy and the ticking time bomb that Lilyanne into that. Include the whole damn Ventrella family. There''s something very wrong with it.


    Gable is truly bravest most wonderful being for being strong enough to sanely brave alongside grampa all this time and by consequence his horrible family.


    We''re not worthy.


    "What are you on about now Rosalia?"


    "Unworthy!"


    "Ah, is the taste of this bundle unpalatable? Perhaps they''re not quite ripe yet."


    Gable takes a taste from the colorful basket by his side, the contents slowly filling up with currants and wild herbs found not far from the olive grove. Only a portion of them recognizable to me by any world standards, even with Gable''s help. Some things are the same as I know it, others not so much. For better or worse. Let''s keep away from the itchy or screaming stuff.


    I found dandelion? That''s pretty normal and edible.


    Can I make a dandelion coffee substitute from that? I believe I can. The plain taste is near the real thing, at least it is in my opinion.


    I remember how a certain stubborn brat always insisted that there was no taste comparison at all. But he''s just a dumb college bartender that''s just picky about his coffee beans. Picky picky, his opinion doesn''t count.


    "It''s not coffee." He would deadpan, teasingly judging my powered beverage choices, "Just call it tea already." Coffee milk is different, that''s just dessert.".The sadly true arguments against all my defenses.


    Of course, I know it''s not the same but it''s pretty damn close for a lawn weed. Also, it''s healthy and it doesn''t over caffeinate me.


    Coffee is delicious, too delicious. Especially overdone stupid fancy lattes or cappuccinos. I was so glad both the old bakery and bar had such good coffee equipment. Blessed be real coffee, especially free coffee. But unless I''m pulling another round of overtime, any more than two gets me too hyped.


    I wasn''t as young or caffeine-addicted? We have different standards! Dumbass. Even if anything he brewed was good. Dummy


    "Rosalia? Are you alright? You''re staring quite hard at the basket."


    "...Of course I am Gable!"


    A practically supernatural blond beauty kneels before me, crowned in sunlight and framed by spring. An absolutely gorgeous sight. Yet here I am, wasting this precious time and thoughts about some normal nobody.


    Nobody.


    "...There drink I like in the past. I think I can somewhat recreate in this world. If I can gather the roots and roast them, then I got it....kinda." Nobody made good coffee, all the ways I liked it.


    I miss coffee.


    "Well then, we''ll keep an eye out specifically for dents de lion and dig up those roots. Your recipes are always a delight to try Rosalia."


    Gable really is the best. Truly the most healing and happiest place to be. Child-safe coffee milk here I come!


    My delicate maiden''s sensibilities can only be trusted in the hands of Gable.


    I tell him things from what future red flags or outbreaks I could honestly use some help to that vision like dream featuring my twin. I tell him what I know about her, confirming or denying the effects that he and grampa already figured out on their own. Everything I know about what that magical cheat of a little girl can do. I try to list out to the best of my memory.


    "There are the obvious, ones that stand out the most. Overwhelming pure amounts of magic, the miraculous ability to heal, the sporadic power of prophecy, flashes of visions of the future. Those...are the most outstanding."


    "Most. But there''s more, of course."


    "Of course." I nod, mentally compiling the list. " I don''t know how relevant they can be? But hey, the heroine must always have a hidden sleeve full of ridiculous skills. Supercharged spells wove into her embroidery. Figures and flowery details that magically moved in her finest paintings. Even supercharge of moving emotions seemed to possess crowds of admirers at her harp playing. Though that last one shouldn''t count when it was mostly her crazed fanboys."


    "Ah... how familiar..."


    I list them in warning as we stroll along the far edge of a grove, picking things fit for the baskets. Sometimes Gable responds with all the appropriate follow-up questions. Sometimes he nods in silence or points out another wild herb off the ground. It''s almost like being back in the woods, at that peaceful happy place.


    But it''s Gable that makes it a happy place.


    It''s being able to not have to hold my tongue. There''s no one watching and no one to judge. I can finally breathe as I speak freely all the things to come, the things I have to hold back when playing Rosalia in this life.


    "Playing?" that silken voice echos my own thoughts at me.


    "Ah, I didn''t mean it like that. I know this life isn''t a game or anything to play around with! I don''t really want to die again." I instinctively slap my own mouth, waving to reassure Gable.


    I complained too much again. It''s just so easy when no one else exists. No one else I have to play along as if I''m really a child.


    "A game." Gable gives me a strange look for a moment as if remembering something beyond me. "What makes you say it with such a comparison in the first place?"


    I pull at a wild variety of mint, nepitella. I can never pull hard enough with all there are popping up across the land. The fragrance helps in keeping me calm and the pulling does well to keep my hands busy.


    I still gulp, pondering how to answer.


    "....because...this kind of world, your world...is a lot like a make-believe game where I''m from."


    "Really now. How so?"


    "There''s magic for one. None of that exists, a lot of things here break what''s possible. It''s like a fairy tale. We have nobles and royals but they don''t rule, they''re not...anywhere near as important. So what we have here, is like a fantasy people would read or play."


    In the peaceful silence, I struggle to think about how to translate modern novels, let alone otome games to Gable. Nothing is good enough because this world is clearly too real to be compared to such cliche plots. Everything down to the little details that keep life running. The things you don''t have to worry about in any fantasy yet I have to juggle and consider in the long run.


    "We had...a lot of pleasures, entertainments. It was a rich world like that, where a lot of things we think of as luxuries is called basic human needs. The difference is really laughable. There''s a popular type of story people liked to play make-believe in a lot of ways. Ones with magic, epic heroes and even princes....especially princes.


    "Sounds horrible. Sounds like my old life." I can tell as Gable silently hides his curses, face turned away. The comment makes me laugh, because yeah, it really kind of does.


    "I can only talk to you like this Gable. Grampa would just laugh like he usually does, or he might not listen to me at all."


    "Oh he listens. Don''t let him fool you. He listens to everything, the paranoid bastard." he tsks.


    "....I''ve already somewhat told grampa, but I fear he took in even less. Since he didn''t do anything after I tell him stuff. Especially about Lilyanne. She''s the main of this story and here I am giving him the spoilers. No super enforced safe house? No magic toddler training regime? Anything?! He didn''t even look a bit excited at all the earth-shattering powers his precious little granddaughter possesses. How?!"


    Gable also gives me a rather unimpressed look, instantly deflating my sudden tantrum. Sorry sorry, I''ll be good. There''s just something about grampa just pisses me off. Or make that everything about him?


    Come on, everyone who knows him would absolutely agree!


    "It''s your life Rosalia. Why is someone else the main?"


    But there''s always something about Gable that equally makes me speechless. It goes beyond his otherwordly appearance. When he looks straight through me, it almost makes me feel as if he was seeing me. Almost.


    Not Rosalia the character, a strange toddler far too mature for this small body. But at the same time, it''s not like he sees the real me either. There''s no way for him to, for anyone to. That person....only exists as a consciousness that I know. I don''t get to exist as her anymore.


    " That''s just how life goes sometimes. Some people are set up to win, others just ...lose...and I''m one of them. I already know how it goes once before. " I admit.


    Funny how the truth still hurts, no matter how long I''ve been used to it.


    "No. No Rosalia, you''re not. Nor is your sister is not a pawn or a character or whatever it is in your heads. No one is." Gable frowns, shaking his head slowly.


    His hand motions for me to take a seat on the stump of a tree, not yet removed. When I do, he takes away my little gathering basket and anything else I may distract myself with. Which is fine I guess?


    I just don''t know where to put my hands.


    "It''s okay if you don''t get it, it''s a lot. Obviously I don''t get it either. I didn''t choose this. In any lifetime."


    "Does anyone? Can anyone choose something that uncontrollable?"


    Of course not....but I still don''t want it. I don''t want to relive it.


    "...That girl....she''s the great hero''s grandaughter, with magic powers beyond explanation. Even without it, she''s mother''s and father''s beloved blessing. There was no one else in their eyes. It was like I didn''t exist...and when I did...it was ultimately to serve her? She wins. Lilyanne wins. She gets everything and everyone without even trying, even the fiancee I didn''t want. It''s amazing how people like that can exist. She got it all....and it still wasn''t enough."


    "....."


    "I really like talking to you best Gable. Because there''s no one else I can say this too. Imagine if I said any of that as I am now? As a mere child? If I''m lucky I''ll only be called crazy like grampa. "


    "Because you''ve said nothing. Not even your grandfather. Any of it."


    "Nope! Of course not, I don''t want to be put at the stakes of all things."


    "Lucky girl. You''re already may be just as crazy as him."


    "Gable! Don''t say that!"


    Of all the things to tease me about. I was being all serious too.


    It''s much easier to not talk about it. It''s a good thing I''m no main character because I''d make a horrible one. There''s no epic comeback or adventure waiting for me, no destiny or fairytale romances. Everything I''ve ever gained was through slow work. Hard effort that I need to initialize and see-through every step myself. Even in this world, no especially so. Nothing is magical for me. Nothing is magical about Rosalia.


    There''s a lot of more productive things to do than go over something as useless as feelings. All it does it slow me down and makes my head spin in weird thoughts.


    Especially when I''ve already been through it before with her memories. Our memories? This is a very shitty deal, where I feel everything the host body has ever felt. Where I can''t remove it from myself. That''s the price of having these memories to guide me.


    "What are you thinking about now Rosalia? It''s never just one thing with you, either one of you."


    "Either?" I suddenly look up.


    I realize there are nail marks in my palms from pressing too hard. The marks bleed white until I let it go, trying to calm down.


    "That awful grandfather of yours. You dig into yourself and don''t come back out....And why should you? There''s a whole world inside you that no one else can reach or touch..."


    Of course. There''s no way Gable knows what it''s like when there''s two people in one. That I''m not as in control of myself as I like. He thinks I''m just like that crazy old man.


    I knew I sounded crazy if I ever spoke the truth.


    "Rosa? Can you ever just be? Be satisfied with what''s in front of you?"


    The questions definitely get me off guard, even when they''re coming from Gable. For one I''m already feeling a bit restless without something to do. There''s a bird chirping midday somewhere above us and if I listen very carefully the sound of children giggling echoes in the distance.


    "I want to say of course. I also want to ask what you''re talking about....But I suppose not. I can''t even do it right now."


    "...You''ve been having a very busy time this year, even though you''re so young. You can''t seem to stop yourself, or rather, you won''t let yourself stop. As if you can somehow make up for something ridiculously think you lack if you can bring out all this...stuff into the world?" When Gable smiles it''s very wonderful of course, but it''s tinged with long term tiredness.


    When he looks up, far up beyond green foliage and hidden chirping birds, I don''t think he''s talking just about me either.


    "In...the first time...I was really blind. I got stupidly happy whenever someone said I resembled anything like him. But none of it is true, let alone good. I can never tell what grampa is thinking. No one can ever tell what he''s going to do next, or when he''ll finally disappear for good....It''s terrifying. "


    "It is. He''s always been like that. He''s always going to terrify me, let alone everyone else." Gable makes it all sound so simple when he speaks it out. Like a magic spell, soothingly calm and open. Receptive to anything, somehow not feeling the recoil, the hurt.


    The truth is....I don''t know if grampa is actually the same as me. His strange existence makes me feel even more alone. He''s from this world doing whatever while I got transported and stranded and -, it''s all really too confusing.


    "There''s too much going on. What if I forget?" I can hear myself snivel.


    It''s awful. I''m awful.


    "What''s so important that you''re so scared of forgetting?"


    "Everything."


    "Expand on that, what is included in everything? It''s an intimidating amount of information I''m sure. The memories. But it will do you no good swirling around like that in your mind. Careful not to let it eat you alive. "


    " ....grampa said the same thing, once." not that long ago.


    It''s only been a few days since then, that strange incident in the garden. It left my head throbbing, nauseous like I had been through a too long car ride, obviously under the influence of something too strong.


    When I woke up, head surprisingly light if not a bit hazy, I was already here in the vineyards, playing the temporary little miss of this place. Magic shouldn''t affect me supposedly, but the limits of sense are always tested if not shattered broken when it comes to grampa.


    That''s what I get for touching anything in his quarters. Even if it''s not a thing but a person, and the carnivorous living plants.


    "Grampa doesn''t answer anything."


    "Tell me about it. Inventing a new strain of magic is easier than getting answers you want. He makes you feel lost, walking circles that lead to blunt walls and dead ends. If you believe just what you see of him at the face, that''s where you''ll stay."


    "He sounds awful. Wait, I already knew that."


    "But I''ve come to learn that sometimes, not just with Ron, it''s a matter of asking the right questions. Of trying, again and again till you figured it out exactly. You''ve done it before, finding me, breaking down doors you shouldn''t even see. Again and again."


    "...None of you still ever helped me figure out how that works. sometimes you''re just as bad as grampa too, sorry."


    "Not everything is as it seems, there are more illusions than there is magic in this world. So Rosa? Have you been willing to speak up? Try at all the ways till you get it right?"


    "....."


    "Well...these things take time, and if it makes you feel any better you''re leagues ahead compared to your grandfather." Gable sighs, getting up.


    "Of course I am!" I agree quite readily, hopping down from the trunk. There''s no competition against senility. So what if he''s not all that old or gray yet, the crazy doesn''t take age into consideration when it comes to grampa.


    I prefer this sort of trash talk, it''s much more fun than to think about anything about myself. Something Gable clearly knows too much about. It''s as much his wonderful charm as it is what''s threatening about him.


    I think one day I''ll tell him about my old life, for real. The life that means nothing here. Just not anytime soon. Not this year, and probably not the next. Not for a long time. There''s a lot I don''t want to think about, let alone speak into existence.


    But it''s not like I can forget either.


    "You know, children normally pick for puffballs and flowers, not the roots." Gable''s patient shadow looms over me as I pull at another one.


    As we walk back, he carries my basket for me. We dig out a lot of things, especially those dents de lion. Ah what a tedious way to say dandelion.


    "I''m not a child. I don''t think to blow a weed will make any wishes come true."


    Ah got it! Moving on.


    But as I pull, gather and generally make a mess of the grounds, Gable does more than wait for me. It''s like watching a fair angel come down when he crouches, bending to pluck at a seedhead. The puffball maintaining it delicate even as he gathers a bunch, making a childishly whimsical bouquet. One puffball blows into the wind with his breath.


    "Perhaps not." he smiles, carrying the sunny bouquet tenderly. "But miracles come in odd places, maybe even people."


    "You''re being very careful holding some common weeds. Are they for a potion or experiment?"


    "Unfortunately for me, I happen to very much like weeds." he leaves it at that.


    I shrug and gather up those roots, busying myself once more. Coffee milk taste here I come!


    It''s really a perfect day like this. Just Gable and I in the peace of it all.


    It''s so wonderful that I don''t mind the sight at all when we arrive back at the old hidden farmhouse that grampa likes living in instead of the vineyard manner. It''s wide and open, spelled to be bigger on the inside of course.


    There is the main character to this story, the heroine, face first limp in the dirt.


    "How many was that?!" Lukas yells, completely blindfolded.


    He holds a long stale loaf of bread in his tightly bound hands like it was a practical sword. Or maybe a pinata stick? Was my sister the pinata? What?


    "301."


    Amar counts from the balcony. His ankle still bound and wrapped up. Forced to heal the old fashion way and thus forcing him to stay put from his troublesome ways. Good.


    I recall a certain grumpy teenager''s words about regretting healing the kid too much, especially his legs. Try disappearing when you can''t walk? Go on surprise me. It''s fine, he gets grampa''s nasty syrup. Nothing says punishment like that stuff.


    Before either Gable or I could come up to them, my younger mud covered twin suddenly rolls back up! Her face pink in exertion and puffed up from holding her breath. Something that we''re both well versed in by practice of mother''s hugs. She charges as silently as she can, trembling with great learned effort.


    Oh! Oh my! This is the most skilled I''ve ever seen her with a sword, wooden toy or not.


    Which is quite sad since I''m comparing a 17 year old from my memory to this filthy toddler. How nice it is to grow up healthy.


    However, I see that it''s not so nice to be wacked across the gut with a loaf of stale bread. My sister lets out a cry at the same time she takes a breath, the bread weapon apparently rock hard as it stay whole while it sends her flying a few feet away.


    "Waaaaaah!" she cries more in frustration than anything, her little butt getting whooped for the-


    "302."


    Three hundred and second time today!


    Seriously, is she just being treated as a blind pinata? That''s the precious princess and future love idol of thousands. And here she is getting mud flung and smacked to death with....a stick of bread.


    "Gable you''re back! I was going to chase after you even if it was boring because the stinky baby likes stealing Cap and Rosa likes stealing you! But then Cap gave me an errand to do in town and that was so cool! But he locked up Amar way up there so I couldn''t carry him with me-


    "Hello Gable. Hi Rosa." the other kid waves.


    "- and that''s no fun! Hey hey, Amar if you jump I can catch you and then we can go to see the fields and town because they have a huuuuge bacon and sausage shop! So manies!"


    "I''m okay here. You already came back from buying food?" Amar assures, honestly looking comfortable up there at the shady terrace.


    It looks like someone assigned the injured child a scattering of homework in his confinement but at least he has juice and snacks. Those are food items right? I smell a whiff of too much mint from up there. Why is that beaker burning glitter?


    "All by yourself? Good job Lukas, was it frightening? You did so well." Gable pats his head, crossing the space to put down the baskets. The action between then familiar and the praise surprisingly sincere.


    "Yeah! Gable, I went to the town and talked to normal adults and bought stuff all by myself. Nothing broke and no one yelled or chased me around or anything! It was all so cool! A nice really old lady gave me a sack of sweet chestnuts because she likes how I talk a lot to her and that she''s lonely when her grandkids don''t visit! After that, I fought with three other big kids, but I was really super careful not to spill the bacon and after that they all laughed and asked for my name and said to just wait! They''ll be bringing even more of their friends to fight spar with me!"


    That last part....doesn''t sound good. Gable also agrees as the pleasant smile on his face grows tighter until he sighs and rests his face in a palm. A quiet murmur of "not again" escapes his breath.


    "And that sounded awesome! But I had a bag of bacons and Cap trusted me to bring it back so I had to go early....but it was yummy! Cap cut the stinky baby and I big slices of this funny head sausage that melts fatty and is super good with breads. Not this bread-" he waves the pinata stick in show.


    "-and after we started playing this! The stinky baby is getting better. She can actually hold a sword now!"


    While the fair-haired child blabbers, still very much blindfolded, he smacks away my attacking sister many times more. As if she were a fly buzzing around.


    I see her trying to stay silent. I really do. Probably a violent hard-earned lesson from the first 300 defeats.


    A strange pride wells up inside me as she crawls. A chubby little mud covered army soldier going for a stealth attack from below. For the first time, I feel a semblance of hope for her. Hope for what I''m not sure but oh my lord this is something! The bar is so low that it can only get better from here!


    She gets golf ball style wacked away for her troubles though.


    Ah, Lukas is really a rough and tumble child. I''m just glad my sister hasn''t broken anything if she''s still ''playing'' around like this.


    "Fighting Lilyanne! Big sister sees and supports you! You aim and swing that fake sword!" I cheer on.


    "Rosa! Big bruder too owie and keeps calling Lily stinky! Lily is Lily!" she turns to me, scratched all over but overall fine. Teary eyes cute even under all that mud.


    "Teach him a lesson! Fighting!"


    " Fight!"


    "Go go go!"


    Oh, ouch. Nevermind. Maybe cheering was a bad idea. The loud sound making it even easier for Lukas to find and hockey puck my level toddler sister. Well at least she''ll be well tired out today?


    Absolutely never aim headfirst, especially at Lukas. Oh ouch. Is bread supposed to make that sound when hitting people?! Just how stale is it?!


    Oh no. Oh dear. Oh that''s not good for a girl''s face or beauty. Oh that''s gonna leave a bread shaped mark.


    Oh I''m so glad my parents are still gone. Oh neither mother or father will let us live it down if they see her like this. We''re going to be grounded for so long.


    Hey, watch where'' you''re swinging that! So what if you''re blindfolded?


    Gable? I think it''s time we stop them. Gable? Where did Gable go?! Even the dandelions are gone?


    "Gable!?! Lukas you stop that, ahhh ow. Ow hey that bread actually hurts?!"


    "Cap made it! Isn''t it cool!?"


    "No! It''s not! It''s hurts more than wood!?"


    "Hey hey stinky baby getting keeps losing waaaaaay too easy. You play too Rosa! Is everyone ready? Go!"


    "Oh no, no no no! I''m not a pinata. Ow, Lukas what the- I''m defenseless here?!"


    "What''s a pinata!!?"


    It does not matter, chaos reigns.


    Lilyanne tirelessly charges in while Lukas quite swipes me back at the knees. Up above, the only child sitting out giggles and laughs at the show. Amar cheers change every few moments, deviously going from supporting Lilyanne with kind helpful advice with her attacks to rolling herself in completely in mud to cover scent. He equally encourages Lukas to do insane moves or handicap himself even more, because "It will be fun?"


    It''s not.


    After futilely trying to run away three times, I stop yelling. I can''t escape these kiddies, even Lilyanne won''t let me go in her collateral damage. Ow ow ow that bread really does hurt!?


    "Rosa! Catch!" Amar laughs from the balcony, clearly, the only one having fun. He throws down....another stupid loaf of bread.


    This whole life is just one big joke isn''t it? A really messed up game, and we haven''t even started. I''m a grown adult in the body of a toddler about to swordplay some fake baguettes against literal monsters. Great set up.


    Well...it is a good blunt weapon at least.


    I definitely know what to do with my hands here.


    Fighting everyone.


    ----------


    -----


    ---

 118 High and Low

    I''ve officially been here too long.


    I decided that last week and yet still here I am.


    The farmhouse is a somewhat rundown building of warm sturdy brick and stone.


    It''s a plain solitary thing, in between a load of nothing. No people or civilization, just the openness of the vineyards and the young more delicate olive grove. Far into the sun baking fields, barely in sight of the seasonal manor house my family would inhabit. The maid road even further away.


    If they bothered to see it, most think of it as perhaps a sizeable resthouse or supply storage for the laborers and goods that work and produce the land. Isolated and alone. The perfect place...for torture!


    No one but those who know him would guess this is where the famed hero prefers to make home.


    Seriously we have a perfectly good manor right over there! It''s huge, beautiful, opulent, gradoise- all the stuff of dreams and pretty vacation photos of some dead famous person''s home you can only pay for a tour of. The living definition of aristocratic countryside elegance!


    I''ve already been reborn as a cursed little rich girl. Give me back my lap of luxury! My dolce vita! Sweet life of mine, give me that money that makes all of this worth it.


    "What Rosa saying now?"


    "Um, I think she wants sweets and money?"


    "Oh, that''s what she wants every day! Booooring."


    "....sweets are yummy. There''s really not much sweet stuff here? I think it needs more honey, I like honey."


    "Bleaaah! Ahhhh that doesn''t taste like honey!!! Ahhck bleck apotttooo-" Lukas starts spluttering and choking.


    At the very farmhouse kitchen table, the boys are covered in flour. One day we shall figure out how not to make an absolute mess of ourselves. But until we get larger and much more coordinated, the kiddy aprons will just have to see a lot of use. But even aprons cannot protect us from ourselves.


    "What are you ruining my good cake with now?" I smack some flour sticky hands with my wooden spoon.


    Taking the jar Amar just poured into the mix, I take a wiff feeling my face scrunch up. Urg, sour. Bad idea, just not as bad as tasting it like Lukas did. My kiddy senses shouldn''t have done that.


    "Firewater?!"


    "That''s what Gable''s recipe says?"


    Amar points to the section of the text and yes, yes that is Gable''s handwriting there. God damn these ancient recipes and the lack of baking powers or....well a lot of things.


    "...Fine! Just one teaspoon, no more than one teaspoon of that!" I try and fail not to choke.


    Of course, I recognize my alcohols, even if I technically never had it outside the original''s memories. Guppa is a great aromatic liquor, fine bottles of it grace my father''s brandy collection, but before it''s fully fermented there''s a reason my it''s nicknamed firewater. At least it''s strong as hell, yay for alcoholic fermentation and fluffy bread.


    But not right now. Burning, my poor kiddy nose is burning! Oh my god it''s like I had a bite of sushi-less wasabi. Ahhhhh! The burn!


    "Honey?"


    Amar offers an open mouth ceramic jar my way. From the content inside he sticks a fat spoonful into Lukas mouth, the choking child a dangerous shade of red in the face.


    As he feeds Lukas I gladly stuff my nose in, trying the neutralize the burn with the scent of sweet sweet honey.


    Blessed be honey, all the honeys. From my usual citrus and wild blossoms to this dark local chestnut variety, either way it''s all my territory. It is my liquid gold and only reliable source of sweetness. Note to invest a hell lot more money in honey. All the money to the honey farmers and wild harvesters. My saviors.


    Hmm, I wonder what beekeeping and honey production is like in this world?


    While I do want to figure out what''s the great big deal of the lack of sugar in this world''s markets, that''s going to take awhile. It clearly exists if sweets addicted kid and his long-gone secret stash is to be believed, but it feels like a lot of complicated problems tied in.


    There''s nothing wrong with focusing on and ramping up the honey production of this already lucrative product. Besides, it is much healthier and suitable to the local population.


    Afterall not everyone is rich enough to afford a sweet tooth, unlike me. Me. Trapped in a rural farmhouse, admittedly a large one, like a peasant with an insane barbarian of grandfather.


    Every day he makes me run laps before the crack of dawn. No obstacle courses needed, nature is here. Every day he forces me through all sorts of grueling labor like digging holes and picking produce. How evil, forcing a cute delicate little girl like me to pick beans and tomatoes with him in the horrible hair damaging sun. It''s child abuse! Turning my hair redder is abuse!


    The worst was forcing my to pick at and touch shit. Identifying wild boar signs to learn how to track and hunt them down. Wild boars apparently a year-long problem and a lot easier compared to the seasonal monster beasts.


    Who makes a three year old follow and fight some wild boars huh? Who!?


    "Cap! That bacon was so good! Ack, feed me more honey water. It still burns!"


    "Boars meat is really stinky but Gable makes it smell and taste lot better. I liked it in the stew the first time."


    "I like all bacon! But the big steak bacons were best! Still burning! "


    These cursed minions have missed the entire point. But that is why I don''t mind my mindless little rants around them. In one ear out the other. Little wild children like these understand nothing of my rich girl suffering.


    "You fools, the best boar dish Gable made were the ribs of the young. The baby back ribs. " I merely point out.


    "Nooooo Steak!"


    "I thought it was a leg? But the stew was better."


    "Ribs you children. The ribs."


    "Steak! And you''re a children! You''re so little like a baby! Steak wins!


    "That doesn''t even make sense Lukas. And it was a leg! Ribs!"


    "Yeah it was. So stew was better."


    "It was all steak shape!"


    The petty arguments take us nowhere but it does make beating the dough more heated. The dough likes that. Lots of beating and smacking going on there, very effective mixing.


    There are some very good reasons why Gable doesn''t actually let us cook by ourselves very often. Even in the rural farmhouse.


    The strongest argument being that we are all children. Little children with troublesome tastes and nowhere near enough time and patience to do everything. Especially after the torture training and chores that grampa puts us through. While we maybe could we definitely should not.


    The second being a threat, that we would have to clean up everything we made a mess off. By ourselves. No help.


    That''s a big deterrent alright. The farmhouse doesn''t have any servants, and Gable''s magical protective barrier keeps strangers from wandering in. At most a Ventrella employee from the manor comes by with some supplies or requests from grampa.


    Today we''re making some sweets for later.


    A type of fried clustered honey cake, like a bunch of thick donut holes. Something we can all agree on given our kiddy sweet tooths, missing out on the supplies of my household. No regular honeybuns here. But it''s simple enough to clean after that we''re allowed to bake it in this tiny rural space. As long as we''re all working on one item and not three...in competition masses.


    "It''s super shiny now." Lukas pats at the thoroughly beaten dough.


    "Now cover it and let it rest. Start cleaning up before Gable comes back and sees all this." I snap my yellow dough covered fingers.


    Cleaning time we go. Split up boys!


    It doesn''t have to be spotless but Gable is oddly strict about some things. Probably for the best with Lukas around.


    Normally I am a true spoiled young lady. Any unnecessary labor is taken care of by my many capable servents. I am the miss eldest Miss of the Ventrella household after all. Even if they don''t like me they don''t dare to disobey me to my face, especially in the last lifetime. Not if they want to survive. But those threats and orders don''t work on silly minions and I''m actually secretly a commoner anyways.


    However, it''s really damn hard to clean when you''re so tiny and magicless! It''s just hard in general. What is with all these shitty rags? What am I? Baby Cinderella? Is this how everyone cleans here? How do they have time for anything?


    Oh, of course, they don''t. I''m living in slightly better medieval times!


    Okay, it''s not that bad. But I have to provide my own soap and innovate a lot my own modern tools. Common things from baking scrapers to an actually decent mop. I can miss modern items and their conveniences all I want, but I''m still stranded here without them.


    What else can I do but try to make my own? So things are a little less awful.


    I take a mental note to improve janitorial supplies when I''m not being held hostage by grampa. Come on I bet the entire troops can use the upgrade too. Can we get some wheels on buckets and things? Spray bottles? Swiffer sweepers? Steam mops?!


    At least we actually have floors to clean. And not, bleck, straw and rushes that never get replaced.


    The older that Rosalia got, the more she saw of the world, the more she knew to get the hell back home. And for now, I greatly agree. Good clean Ventrella territory. Nice home territory. We have it so good here I don''t care what my cousin or those prisses in the fashionable big cities say.


    Backwater? Wildlands? Nothing around?


    Well duh the troop are stationed here for a reason, you don''t place a military encampment just anywhere. Besides we have actual tiled flooring and rooftops for all the masses! It''s not available absolutely everywhere but we have public baths and bakeries. The road system is actually pretty damn good, my carriage motion sickness skyrocketing the moment we leave the borders. Building fires aren''t a concern for us at all and the warm climate means food grows plentiful, even year-round.


    As long as we plan ahead and store things better, the famines should be cut off.


    That and maybe cut off those disease-ridden imports. Or reduce our own perishable exports.... Both. Both are a good idea.


    Yes, there''s a hell lot of work improve on but all hail the shitty crazy grampa for crucial little things that make life a little less awful! I''ll give him that.


    "Alright there, wonderful job. I see no one has destroyed the kitchen...today." Gable walks back in, silently inspecting the space.


    "I would never." I pout.


    Geez the trust is just so low when you''re a kid.


    "I only did it once!" complains Lukas.


    Well okay then, nevermind.


    "Once is more than enough. Thank you Amar and Rosalia, for watching out after this one. I see nothing broken. "


    "Oh I broke things a lot more than once!"


    "...We know Lukas, we all know. " Gable pats at the disaster of a boy.


    In the end, the shiny balls of dough are put away to rise and we''re marched off for a quick cleaning ourselves. To the water pump and kiddy basins to splash our hands and faces. Then it''s off to whatever torture grampa has in store for today.


    Whatever shall it be now?


    Herding evil biting goats? Falling off way too big pony rides? Crawling inside and cleaning the giant wine tanks? God forbid, mixing more hops, manure and ''acid bug'' nightsoil for crop fertilizer? All of them again?!


    Oh god I''ve adapted too well to this farming peasant life.


    Send help. I wasn''t made for this. This isn''t visiting and playing agricultural tourists with father. This isn''t my herb garden or nerding around. There''s no mother waiting at the end of the day with all my soft fancy material comforts.


    No. This is actual everyday child labor, made thousands of times worse with grampa. It''s as if I''m truly a peasant farmer''s child?! It goes far beyond just ''chores''.


    Gable is wonderful, and thank all the heavens he can cook, but he does absolutely nothing to stop any of grampa''s ''bonding'' time. All that ''hero training''. It''s awful.


    Take me back.


    I can''t believe I''m saying this but I want my nerd and jailkeeper back. No I need them back.


    Where the hell are my disgustingly rich parents? It''s been weeks? Come back and pick me up already?!! Mama? Papa?! How could you leave me like this you awful irresponsible excuses of parentals?! Do you not remember what happened last year?! Never trust me with grampa!!!


    "Gable?" I ask, hand and head dripping cold water from where I dunked myself "Just...where are my parents right now?"


    I hear wood crack and break but when I look up, Gable is perfect as ever, smiling so beautifully that angels would weep.


    "Somewhere they''re not supposed to be." but his voice sounds colder than the ice cellar underground.


    "Is that....a bad somewhere?"


    "Oh oh oh! I know! They''re on a super quest and fighting a lot and playing a lot. They''re so old so they gotta be strong and it gets boring carrying around weak little babies like Rosa and Stinky!" splashes Lukas, before a flying towel comes to violently dry him fluffy.


    Thank you Lukas, for not giving me such a nickname. I much appreciate it.


    "I think they fell down a hole." Amar says without missing a beat. "a really really deep hole."


    "Is it deeper than an outhouse?" I snark.


    "Um yeah...." boy tilts his possibly very brain-damaged head.


    Amar has been very off lately.


    I''m sure it''s partly due to constantly getting kidnapped by grampa or whatnot. What an unstable environment for a child? Sure he still reacts and responds to everyone, even my strange creature of a little sister, but it''s delayed. A breath taken too long, put on pause.


    Brain damage maybe, obviously. Because he''s not a dull slow-witted child, despite what he sounds like. You''de have to be a grade-A idiot to keep falling for that.


    Which I have steadily increasing evidence that Lukas is.


    The other boy immediately nodded his head in acceptance when Amar said he broke a few bones in a game of tag gone wrong. Something that he got most of them back.


    The blonde child even further happily distracted whenever Amar suggests a game or asks to be carried somewhere while his ankle was still injured.


    That''s the only thing I left unhealed from whatever rebroke him. Gable and the strange plant had done some work on speeding up the healing process.But don''t think I can''t tell/


    Whatever healing magic my twin had filled up that other day was run down back low. Some parts even worse? Broken bones nothing compared to the new hungry holes inside. Something that felt of bad internal damage and showed most clearly in his barely touched meals at the beginning of this farmhouse kidnapping.


    I''m going to make him a fool''s hat.


    In fact, both of them can have little dunces hats! It can be cute as I put them in the idiot corner.


    "Thank you both for theory one and two on where my parents went. Off to fight like some common adventurer or down a deep hopefully clean hole. Did anyone push them? You have really reassured me on my worries."


    "You''re welcome for my awesomeness!" dries off dunce number one.


    "Ah, you still think I pushed your cousin. It was really funny but I wasn''t even there?" dunce number two fights off a floating hairbrush.


    Fools, all of them.


    "I also think no one breaks bones all over from a game of tag! You''re fast when you''re not all broken." I don''t relent.


    It''s not like I can make him stop lying, but calling out is


    "Oh. That. It was a really really unfair game of tag. But kinda fun? Not the last part..."


    "Tag! I want to play! I''ll get the bread again."


    "Not that kind of tag Lukas. No more wasting good bread, grampa is banned from the kitchen anyways. "


    "Okay. It will be fun if we can all play together?"


    "I don''t trust any of your playing. That bread hurt and my bones aren''t for breaking. " I complain.


    Gable claps, indicating for us to fall silent and in line as best we can. It''s either that or be swept up by a swarm of floating towels, soap bar and yes even the angry hairbrush.


    "Alright then, all of you on your best behavior. No making a ruckus there or on the way, no disturbing the poor people doing their work. Lukas, put the bread sword down."


    "Awwwww!!! But-"


    "Rosalia, be nice."


    "I am nice! Much nicer than anyone deserves."


    "And Amar, you''re barely cleared and permissed to walk on your own. Don''t let me catch you sneaking around spying in the middle of the night when you should be sleeping, again."


    "Okay."


    "That is not a challenge." Gable clarifies.


    "Oh...Okay."


    Gable is so right. Discipline the brat!


    But it is disappointing that instead of carrying me up into his perfect comforting arms, Gable picks up Amar and starts walking off. Unfair as I feel it is, Gable is being careful of the child''s old fashioned healing injuries.


    ....Hey wait, spying? Like eavesdropping? Does that mean Amar wasn''t lying about my parents falling down a hole? Seriously?!


    "Gable....is everything okay?" I ask.


    I''m not worried or anything!


    It''s just been a while. Nothing is supposed to happen to my birth givers until years later. They don''t go off and die on me until I''m at least 10. How inconvenient of them.


    Carriage accident my ass. Like a carriage of all things could kill a Ventrella.


    No bodies were ever found either.... I don''t think my change of effects would speed things up to that point. There shouldn''t be any such thing as a carriage accident so soon. But it''s true that there''s always dangers on the road. Our enemies hiding in the shadows as much as they do in plain sight.


    "Duhhh, your ma is way too scary to get beat up! She''ll be all kyaa kyaa pwew boom boom! And they''ll go aaaaahhhhhhhh bleeech and die." gestures Lukas.


    "I think so too, don''t worry about them Rosa. Your parents are ok. I think? " Amar mostly agrees from behind Gable''s shoulder.


    "I wasn''t worried or anything! I was just making sure...Gable?"


    I tug at his leg as we walk, not even bothering to act cute. Admittedly a little more childish than usual though.


    It''s a very reasonable concern given my family''s history and future ok?


    They wouldn''t just leave Lilyanne like that. They''ve never left her alone for long, hardly out of their overprotective sight her entire life. Or at least the life and years they were around to witness. Only something truly terrible would keep them away from their precious perfect frail little...well there was the time they just threw her at grampa.....hmmm.


    Anyways they''re very behind schedule for this trip. I pestered Alfonso for them before I was so cruelly whisked off by grampa, trapped in his torture farm. Especially for father, he''s going to have so much make up work to do.


    Technically I have a lot of make up work to do too. But I''m not the one missing here, possibly down a hole.


    "They''ll be more than fine," Gable tiredly sighs, plopping down kid after kid into the balloon basket, myself included.


    The slight breath of annoyance in his voice is exactly the same when grampa or Lukas does something inconsequentially stupid. That sure does reassure me more than anything else.


    Especially given how grampa is already curled up in the corner of the basket, moping. In the ridiculous toddler sling, a curious Lilyanne slaps at his face to no avail.


    "Ron....Ron get up from there." Gable sighs, busying himself with ordering all of us to our seats and seat belts.


    This is a strange but effectively fast way of travel to float over by air. I don''t know how and when they fitted a hot air balloon with kiddy seats but I appreciate the safety feature. Especially since we''re all way too short too see anything from the bottom of the basket.


    Yeah no more climbing or freedom for us when the balloon is in operation.


    "They just grow up so fast!!!" sobs grampa,


    With those oversized musclar arms, he clutches Lilyanne like a toy doll in a suffocating hug. The action causing the poor girl to girl to squeak and giggle hapilly, hugging back with no sense of self-preservation. She''s already so oxygen-deprived from this family''s hugs, that it permanently disabled her developing brain. That''s the medical reasoning I''m going with.


    "Ron...."


    "I''m so happy she picked up the war hammer again! I''ve kept it polished for so long. Perfect for destroying and wooing! So fast! Oh I remember when it was just papa and Maria going cave diving...through the lava pits and crawling critter....good times....but that''s all over now."


    "Ron please... stop that."


    "I''m just tooooo old and embarrassing now! Can''t a father even make a portal call?! It''s been so long, I was just going to remind her how to dismember a-"


    "Please the children are watching. Stop before they learn these habits-"


    "Am I too embarrassing for you too Gabe!?"


    "You have always been soul shatteringly embarrassing. Now hand her over, she''s not Maria, and start this blasted thing or so help me-"


    It''s a little like watching a bad comedy skit. Maybe someone else arguing parents in the car? Ha, I''m just too funny.


    Gable forcefully frees my sister while kicking grampa back up into place. The crazy old man is the only adult that can properly drive the balloon. It''s another one of his awful inventions.


    Now I don''t know much about hot air balloons but I can say this one doesn''t feel real. It feels more like an amusement park ride. The shape is odd. The kiddy seats spin on rotation unless locked down. The basket is rather indescribable to any modern sense of design or appeal, with so many odd parts that even a children''s fantasy artist would scream in horror at the logistics.


    But hey, it''s a grampa build monster. What do you expect?


    Normally the balloons are used within the troops for scouting, viewing and other such useful security purposes. They''re also often still tethered to the ground for better control.


    Only grampa would try to freestyle steer this hot air death trap anywhere. This isn''t modern times with modern technology. Grampa isn''t a trustworthy person, but he''s the driver. Every cursed time we get on this thing I fear we will crash into a firey deflated inferno. Today is the 4th time, and I fear.


    Gable hold me! But alas, all he does is buckle in Lilyanne into her kiddy car seat. Then re-buckles down Lukas, again and again till he has 5 times the amount of seat belts the rest of us do, much to the loud little boy''s complaints.


    "I only almost fell out once!"


    "Once is more than enough Lukas."


    "Cap! Tell him I don''t need it! I really really don''t! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaase!"


    "Ron....do not. Don''t you dare."


    "But I don''t wanna! It''s embaaaaaarrrrraaaasing!"


    As gorgeously beautiful as Gable is at all times, and I''m sure in every stage of his life, are those sexy eye wrinkles forming at his eyes? Oh ho ho ho the tall tell signs of stress and parenting on any weaker man is merely a crown to Gable''s mature charm and appeal.


    ".....THEY GROW UP SO FAST!!!" sobs my own sad sad pathetic grampa, back on the ground by Lukas.


    Damn it I want to switch! Take him, take my grampa and give me Gable instead! This isn''t fair. Oh but life never is.


    Eventually, though the balloon does ready itself and takes off, grampa up at the helm. Heat based magic stones firing up the, lifting us off.


    It would be a lovely view, traveling up in the air, if it wasn''t so god damn terrifying! No one should trust grampa with anything!


    To distract myself from the impending thoughts of doom and crashing, I observe not the great beautiful heights but my immediate surroundings inside the basket. Gable is as calm as ever, though he does fuss a bit over the children.


    Lukas is ...well he''s Lukas. There''s a reason he has 5x the seatbelts, enough said.


    Lilyanne is a clinging babbling thing, even seatbelted in. She wants to play more with the ropes or perhaps crawl herself back into the toddler sling on grampa''s chest. Active but no fear or appreciation at all in just what we''re riding in. Like girl, we are literally flying. This is a big deal, especially for this world. But what can you do about kids that filthy rich and spoiled, these luxuries are just as easy as breathing for them?


    Even I get fussed over, which I would never mind if it was Gable doing it. The only problem is that he incorrectly thinks I have a fear of heights or strange modes of transport. I actually have a fear of grampa, which is a big difference and includes a lot.


    Only Amar gets the good calm child status. Staying snug and tight in his kiddy seat, his little hand clenched and eyes sparkling wide over anything they can see over the expanse. Brain-damaged as he is, he''s the only one of the kids that comprehends just what a mesmerizing sight and experience this is. Every time.


    Who else gets to fly in this world? Who can travel in such style? Isn''t the life of a minion of mine great?


    "....Yeah. It''s fun. Really really fun. " Amar breathes out, softer than ever in the blowing wind.


    Ohohoho of course it is....wait did I say that out loud again? Curses!


    "Hang on everyone!" suddenly bellows the old man from above,


    The wind blows a little cold and the seats start spinning like a kiddy carnival ride. God damn it grampa! It''s a sickening 360 ride!


    When we start quickly spinning the other way, and the childish laughter dies down to screaming and oxygen deprivation, at least on my part, Gable locks down the spinny seat ride and readies us for a descent. The absolute worst part.


    I haven''t died from grampa''s driving yet but just like Gable says, once is more than enough.


    Lalala don''t think about it, lalalala grampa don''t crash laa dee la la la don''t crash and killing us all in a shooting balloon falling from the sky!~ Nopey nope nope I don''t wanna diiiiiieeee~


    "What she saying now?!"


    "Um.....I think Rosa''s head is broken?"


    "Yeah that sounds right!"


    If someone cute gotta go down with the balloon make it the minions and not I. How rude.


    But just like every other time grampa takes us on an impromptu day flight, we touch down soft and easy. A slowly building testimony to grampa''s driving skills.


    Or is it piloting? What do you call it on a hot air balloon? Can we make this thing any less rickety? When is a blimp or a plane getting invented? Obviously never since those weren''t around in the original''s memory. How does one go from hot air balloon to a blimp?


    It''s a good thing I can totally keep my mouth shut and any reckless crazy building nerds in this cursed family can''t ever hear me... Eh it''s fine. Father isn''t around and no one knows what a blimp is anyways.


    As grampa parks, handing the ropes down to waiting out stationed troop members, Gable finally allows us back our freedom. The seatbelts being very childproof and Rosalia proof, aka complicatedly manual. Thanks for the trust.


    Surveying the grounds outside, back on solid ground, I can see it''s a mine. A staircase cut pits and chunks outside, leading to the deep dark main reinforced entrance. Not just any dark gloomy mine though, the land and surrounding mountains are streaky white. The air is a bit chalky where work is fresh but polished up, this while place would be a ridiculously expensive thing of beauty.


    It''s a marble mine.


    Oh how I love being rich! Oh ho ho ho! Another luxury export that makes me my money. Technically grampa doesn''t completely own this quarry, taking a portion shared among the locals, but it still basically belongs to me. Him technically, but more importantly me!


    I think we should raise prices. Such hard work to mine this fine marble for some stupid nobles to make flooring and mansion decor out of. We''de be fools to not brand ourselves higher. We can more than afford it, with the demand for luxury rising in the next couple years.


    It''s business plans and money signs in my eyes are I view this beautiful mess of a mountain. Oh I just love being rich so damn much. Sure it''s not a metal mine or some precious old ore like other territories but work with what you got. As Rosalia Ventrella, I got so much good resources!


    "Rosa rosa rosa rosa rosa rosa?" tugs my little sister from behind. "why Rosa laughing?"


    "...I wasn''t. It''s nothing. Let''s go Lily, follow behind grampa really carefully alright. It''s super dangerous here."


    "Nuh uh, Rosa go ''ho ho hoooo hohoho''!"


    My sister tries and fails at the strange villainess like laugh, unfortunately, inherited from mother''s. It''s just not in her though. She sounds like a dying bird? Ah -300 cute points. Sorry Lily. Never go down the dark route, it''s for the best.


    It''s a standard work day at the marble quarry, so we all stay out of the way as the adults instructed. Gable has disappeared somewhere while Grampa takes us on another one of his half tours of hell, and half getting dragged to work he actually has to do. It''s mostly just people coming up and asking him stuff, constantly.


    I want to say he''s paying people to give him attention and make him look important. But I know that''s far from the truth. The life of a Ventrella is a busy one.


    Grampa may be a crazy old man who runs away a lot, but there has to be reasons to that. More people greet him positively, but the tiring work seems never ending. Even if he has other people assigned to work on it, a lot of things still end up in his hands. Following him where ever he goes, or waiting for him when he comes back. Here in the mines, it comes from the rail tracks and mining carts to the lighting system. Recruit advancements, rotations and requests to cases injuries.


    I lightly kick at a track, built out of solid melted and crafted metal ore. Not too unlike the smaller smoother version running materials and supplies through the troops garrison grounds.


    In a world as backward as this...if my vague other world history studies serve me right, this shouldn''t exist. A lot of shit should not exist and in other places, other countries and territories, a lot of things don''t.


    It''s advancement....but more than that it''s a lot of hard annoying work.


    This isn''t a magic fantasy, even if magic does exist here. You can''t just build something and everyone lives happily ever after. The rails fall into disrepair, accidents happen, they break down and need as up upgrade as they do expansions as more areas become workable. A whole system of things evolving around it. Eventually that something cool and wonderful becomes mundane, maybe even a personal burden.


    From the old drafts that I looted, in any life time, I think grampa must have really liked rails once. He worked hard on a lot of funny designs. Gathering expensive raw material and even more difficult to find labor, willing to lay down these brand new things, all before these sort of things paid out.


    And now that they''ve been running for years, so much so there are pesky foreign flies still trying to copy and steal the designs, grampa only frowns, quickly sighs, when the issue to them comes up again.


    Isn''t that sad? To come to find something you once must have really been passionate about, something you maybe loved, and then lost it in yourself. Lose the spark and find it tedious, even if it''s family and useful. It''s a loss, as it is natural.


    You can always fall out of love with something. Things are bound to go wrong.


    I kick at the rails again, waiting for grampa in this particular area. However it seems I kicked too hard at something that might have been acting as a break for a mining cart.


    A cart that my sister had crawled in with the help of an awfully monstrous minion.


    "Cool it moves! Bye stinky stealing baby!" Lukas waves the rolling cart off, apparently gleeful in my accidental disaster.


    "No no no not cool! Lukas not cool, Lily get back here."


    "Haha are you racing the cart! IS that what we''re playing now?! I can do that!"


    "Yes, that''s exactly it. Minions go run and stop that cart! Min...where''s Amar? Ack Lily hang on!"


    "Wheeeeeee~"


    The sight and sound of my baby sister gets farther and farther away. Down the mine shaft and into the distance.


    There''s no time to question where disappearing minions go or staying close to gramps, no time for anything at all. I have the damn protagonist girl to save?!


    Curse these short little legs! They can''t win!


    Against all common sense I hop and climb into another cart and a parallel track. There''s not even time to be proud of how I did it myself, it''s go time.


    "Hey no fair I want a cart!"


    "No time, get in or don''t Lukas!


    "Not bad sidekick, go go go!"


    With a great push and hop Lukas gives us the running momentum this cart needs to catch up. It''s a terrible chase down the marble mine shaft. A very bad game of Mario cart, very very bad.


    "This is so coooooool!" whoops Lukas, the mine carts somehow getting even faster.


    The scenery rushes by, starting to look like a blur. But there''s plenty of eyewitnesses open-mouthed and wondering what the hell to do, or if they should bother doing anything. A weird situation I know, but can someone stop that baby in the other cart!?


    She''s not even doing anything, how is she so far ahead?!


    Is that a newer upgraded cart and track? Damn it grampa, upgrade all of them!


    The mine cart ride comes to a screeching halt, sparks and all as more than a few crossbow arrows shoot out. Some land awkwardly in front to be crushed underneath the speeding cart, but one of them hits what could be a brake lever on the cart. It makes the awful sound of metal dragging against metal when a sudden incline of mined marble shows up out of nowhere, finally stopping the slowing down cart. The same could be said for the one I''m riding in, an arrow striking the sides and halting us yards behind Lilyanne.


    "Not bad newbie!" a squishy bear of a man hollers over a small scattered crowd.


    I may insult grampa about being bear like, or just an awful monster in general, but at least he passes off as a decent hero worthy looking man.


    This man...is big....all way around, with chest hair so heavy I thought it was a legitimate fur shirt. He heavy-handed pats the back of a woman not even half his size, causing her to cough and stumble holding the standard troop''s crossbow in her arms.


    Oh it''s that recent new recruit. The one with the digging? Huh, did fitting place to haze train her here.


    "You kids?"


    She lowers down the crossbow with a harsh look underneath the wrapped face mask. This far down most people are covered in dust and grime. At least they all have pants down here.


    The big fluffy bear man easily plucks a stupidly giggling Lilyanne out of the mine cart, spins her like he''s inspecting a bag of flour, and set her down on the filthy floor to walk and ground herself. The whole time Lilyanne seems like she''s having a grand time.


    I worry and she has fun. Great. Nothing has changed at all.


    "Is there anyone else?" the stern newbie runs over to inspect our cart, first taking us out to safety before scanning the surrounding areas.


    "Thank you for that. We went really far with these things, and are very sorry. If you could please help us get back up closer to the surface where my grampa last saw us." I curtsy and request.


    "That was so awesome! Amar missed out, and I''m gonna tell him all about it. Do you think we can go again?!"


    "Wheeeeeee Lily so dizzy now"


    Pulling the both of them by the ears, I force curtsy again. Making sure to look up with that safe but respectable beseeching 30% look, the one that father bans at a certain higher power. Weirdo.


    "Oh ho ho ho I apologize for them, we''re all in shock. "


    I still feel the questioning stares. As expected when screaming kids come rushing through your work mine. Very sorry about that.


    "Is there no else? No other boy-....no others with you?" coughs the woman, the fatigue, dust and recent excitement causing her to tear up a bit.


    Now that I look at her without her colorful skirts and the big semi-automatic crossbow pointed at me, she''s a rather young woman. Not frail or delicate I would say, but smaller framed and with small wrists. As I noted before, definitely not a farmer''s daughter and certainly not miner material either.


    "It''s just us that are at fault. Thanks to you all we''re safe. Now if we could just request a quick ride back up, we can put this all behind us and reward you greatly. If no one could mention is part to-"


    "That won''t be necessary- thank you all for what you''ve done for them."


    It''s like a ray of sunlight has shined into this place, a heavenly pluck of the harp and lute. Oh that voice, that pale golden hair, with Gable''s presence fresh air overwhelms that place. We are not worthy.


    But with Gable''s stern voice, that also means we are in so much trouble.


    "Gable! It was so fun because there are lots of things going down so the carts got really really fast and we went whoosh and it shook and sometimes it almost shook us out and smashed us against all the pointy rocks and Amar you missed it! It was scary fun and you like fun-"


    "Gable, I beg of you to hear my defense. It was all Lukas'' fault! See Lukas pushed Lilyanne into the cart, and she''s a dumb baby that really made things worse so it can be her fault too, anyways-


    "Wheeeeeeeeeee! Rolling and bumping and rolling! Lily screamy a lot! Lily thirsty now. "


    Like a masterpiece painting of a religious figure hung high above us mere mortals, Gable stands there with a small child in the crook of his arm and a halo practically glowing behind his head. Such light, such beauty.


    That is until he sets Amar down and pulls out the toddler leash. Leashes?


    Ah shit.


    Oh the contrast, such glory, and perfection on top, stupid toddler leashes closer down to his hands. Unsurprisingly it''s Lukas that he straps in first.


    Ahahaha that thing is thicker than mine! Ahahahaha loser. I bet it''s ice proof.


    "Your merits today will not be forgotten. Thank you again...for helping our dear...precious...very lively little ones." Gable smiles, clicking the toddler leashes on like it''s a seat belt.


    Oh woe is me. Any reputation I may have set has been crushed, crumbled. No one can respect a little boss in a leash. This wasn''t even my fault!? I didn''t even enjoy that Indiana Jones ride, needed more deep drops and turns for variety.


    What can I say? I''m a modern girl with sophisticated tastes. Even for thrill rides.


    "Barnat, I''ll be sure to pass along your excellent duties in looking after this bunch." Gable shakes the big man''s gigantic hand.


    Oh dear, Gable does not have small hands, the length longer than my own grampa, but this visual comparison makes it look as if his were a smooth dainty little porcelain doll. I bet he could make grampa look like a fuzzy teddy bear to this real bear if they were side by side.


    "Don''t be worrying about it! They do what they do and I sure can''t make them ahahaha" laughs Barnat, before pulling the frozen stiff woman out to the front "''sides it was the newbie Cass that did the first shootin. Go on then."


    "...."


    I understand. She probably never saw a man as elvenly gorgeous before in her life. These last few weeks must have also been harsh and devoid of beauty. Why she''s utterly speechless in front of Gable.


    Reverently, she drops to her knees. As anyone should upon the fortune that is seeing Gable, what manners.


    "This servant humbly greets the master. Forgive me, for all the ways I am unfit to appear before you."


    Oooookay a little heavy there, but I still completely understand. Our Gable is as kind as he is cruel, with the toddler leash, and quickly has he floated up and dusted off.


    "There is no need for that child. Cass? Your points and merits shall be rewarded."


    "...tis Caspara-" she lifts her head, gaze intense.


    "Very well then Ms. Casp-"


    "That name''s too hard? Cass is easier. Everyone else here calls her that." Amar''s softly speaks out of turn.


    If I wasn''t on the toddler leash I''d ear pull him for being so suddenly rude. Ah but these kids really have no one to teach them proper manners or how to converse appropriately. I haven''t been doing a great job there either, falling into their pace.


    "The arrow was cool." Amar walks freely, rolling his still bandaged ankle slightly. "Can you shoot fast hares and monster afar? That''s very hard?"


    The stiff woman bites her lips, wipes away her Gable induced tears, and nods, "Of course I can you brat, even from a chebel away."


    "You sound like a liar. But that''s ok? All adults are.... Thanks for helping. Bye now Cass."


    With that, Amar shyly runs back to Gable. The man may not have him on a leash, but Amar silently relents to being carried back again. It would be so cute if that wasn''t such a great spot, on Gable, while the rest of us are tied up like this.


    "Let''s go now children." Gable chides.


    "But..." I want to defend myself.


    "What did I say earlier And what did you do? Don''t answer that out loud Lukas, think about it. "


    Back up we go, personally escorted, and tied down, by Gable. Wonderful how none of us can get into any trouble, or anywhere like this. Great field trip everyone.


    "I smell bacon!"


    "Not exactly Lukas but close. You''ll like it, it''s a specialty here."


    "I like all bacon! Even the things you say aren''t bacon but are bacon."


    "Meat Lukas, we call them meat."


    "Lunchie time? Rosa we nom noms soon, Rosa nomnom and happy agains!"


    From up in Gable''s arms, taunting in our punishment, Amar giggles down at us getting walked like a pack of puppy dogs. That muffled laughter is as innocently mocking as anything I''ve ever heard in any world.


    When we finally get back to grampa, and supposed lunch, it''s to the crazy old man pulling slabs of marinated something out of tiny marble tombs. His wrist covered in a substance colored dried blood as he laughs maniacally to himself.


    Mother....


    Father....


    Please hurry up and come pick me up.

 119 Past Bedtime

    Good news. Our territory found a new dungeon spot?


    Bad news. What the fuck our territory found a new dungeon spot?! Already?!


    No no no, not some shallow little den or a mysterious zone of death. Not even a crack magical interference, spawning unholy monsters and plants in the deep dark forests. This was a legit hole in the road? A deep one? The one?


    To make matters even worse it was my parents who discovered it?! Accidently mind you. But what the hell?


    The truth of the situation finally revealed to the light, made one of my cute little minions to pout for a good half a day.


    "I told you." Amar sulked, arms crossed.


    For a known liar he doesn''t really like being called one. Ah but it can''t be helped. Kids are very sensitive about being wrongly accused.


    "There there, good boy, telling the truth this time. Very good spying minion. Keep it up Don''t sulk. Have some fruit and nuts." I wave a treat as comfort.


    It is not very effective, even if he still opens up and eats it. Still pouting. Still very cute though. The late-night snack is probably too healthy and not enough sugar for him. Which is bad for our teeth? Bad minion, eat more healthy normal foods and less snacks and sweets.


    Kids are just so darn picky.


    "I wanna go! That would be so cool. We should go. We should go explore it! Is it near the camp or Rosa''s house? Whoa! So cool. So cool we get more monsters to fight and thingies to find and practice because my sidekicks are sometimes really weak. Sometimes Amar is ok but noooooowhere as awesome as me and Rosa''s even stupid weaker-"


    At once two separate pairs of small hands stuff Lukas mouth with different goodies. It''s open so wide that it all fits, score. The chattering blonde happily chomping down on whatever combo of healthy dessert fruits we just threw in there and continue throwing in there.


    It''s a bad game of how much we can fit in to shut him up.


    Huh just how much food can fit in there? It shouldn''t be physically possible for a child''s mochi cheeks to stretch this much? But Lukas is a black hole that I''m not sure how anyone ever missed a lifetime ago. What a waste. How fascinating.


    "Hey, Amar do you think we can fit a melon in-"


    Wait I''m getting distracted from the very important point here!


    "Hahaha alright kiddos, get to cleaning up for bed before Gable catches you." my grampa lifts the platter away.


    "But grampa...I-"


    "Go go go before Gable catches me" the old man shoos at us, sliding the rest of the snacks down his own fat face while constantly looking over his shoulder.


    As if Gable was already there, disapprovingly tapping his foot, or worse, his wand. I''ve never personally seen what''s the big deal, but from the way Lukas and my own big bad grampa fall over themselves to avoid it, I''d say it''s bad.


    While I personally don''t want to find out just what bad consists of, this sort of truth bomb needs follow up. Detail. More importantly future spoilers from the worse sort of cheat, me.


    That dungeon....wasn''t supposed to be discovered for years, and most certainly not where it was reported. A terror of hollow earth, terrible pests, and the sought after natural resources. Even more unsavory adventurers and desperate fortune seekers would make their way to Ventrella lands to try their luck.


    Why is it getting found so early now? Why is it in the wrong spot? Everything is all wrong.


    "Okay. Come on." Amar pushes me, pulling along me and a still chewing Lukas.


    "But-"


    "It''s ok. We just need to get rid of the evidence first. You can go back and sleep with your grampa tonight."


    "What?!"


    As I scream, Grampa abruptly chokes. Swallowing down the snuck stolen snack, he drops the platter with sparkling eyes. The same evil sparkling eyes that he makes before sudden surprise trips to hellish ''adventures'' or when he''s about to bother Gable over something very very stupid.


    Said stupid cow eyes are lasered in on poor little me.


    "Cap? Rosa''s feeling too lonely without her mama and papa. She can''t say it right but she wants to be with you more tonight."


    "What?! No no no that''s not what I said, ever! I didn''t even think it out loud? You brain damaged little-"


    "Awwww does my little grandaughter miss her family so much!!?! Never fear grampapa'' is here!"


    "Eeeeeeeeeep!"


    Suddenly I''m being spun and thrown in the air. Grampa''s too strong arms abusing tiny little body with those infamous too tight hugs. The kind mother obviously took it after. Air! I need air! Ohh I shouldn''t have had that last piece of fruit and cheese.


    On the floor, a full chipmunk cheeked Lukas starts pounding at Grampa''s leg. Demanding a death hug of his own, rather than any noble intentions. Something that grampa quickly obliges too, picking up the other child with one hand.


    Ooompf, he''s squishy. Too much spinning and hugs, Too little space. I''m going to die.


    "But we have to brush our teeth first?"


    "Oh! Right! What a good big brother you are Amar! Rooosa~ Luuuukas, clean up like good children! I will handle it here so Gable will never find out, and come for you soon!" the crazy old man finally frees us from the dizzying ride, ruffling Amar''s head and shooing us off.


    Bumping along with an equally disoriented minion, why do I get the feeling that I''ve been set up? A trap, it was a trap. Ahh so dizzy.


    The world still slightly spins even as I''m led into the bathroom and up the stool, a pasty toothbrush stuffed into my mouth.


    Ack. Bleck.


    "I can brush myself!" I spit.


    Then proceed to drown my own minions in the sink with their own toothbrushes. Kids are just so messy and careless. It''s quite tough babysitting these two. Especially since they''re losing their baby teeth.


    Surprisingly it''s Amar that lost his first, not just one but two. Yeah that''s something magic isn''t going to heal back.


    "Open up! You eat too much candy, brush your teeth more carefully. Lukas hold him down."


    "Open open open! Cool, it''s like a big hole! In your mouth! I eat lots but mine still won''t fall out. Why are you first? That''s not fair because I''m bigger. But Gable says if I pull it out before it''s ready he''ll stick it back in and that sounds like it will hurt more. "


    "...It''s really hard to eat like this. I rather get hit." Amar shyly closes his mouth from our stares, covering up those adorable baby teeth gaps.


    I smack the kid with a toothbrush.


    "...Not like that?"


    "You can eat candy and sweets just fine. Don''t think I don''t know about the secret stash."


    "Why do we call it a secret stash when it''s not a secret, Oh I know because it''s a secret to everyone but us! Wow, I''m awesome smart! I like the secret when it''s yummy but sometimes it hurts and that''s not so yummy! Oh it''s a trick!"


    The only reason why Lukas and I don''t confiscate and eat up all the secret stash is that it''s too dangerous. Like a game of Russian roulette. You don''t know if you''re getting a good safe tasty candy or a horrible experiment. From puffed up lips to instantly falling asleep, you never know what you''ll get. One of them even makes you grow hair alarmingly fast?


    It''s quite funny getting grampa to eat them though. Princess grampa hair was as fun as it was horrible. Lasted a little over two days before Gable held him down by force and burned it back to normal.


    The variety of effects has really gone up since Gable started encouraging Amar to make even worse candies beyond what I shall name ''shut up'' and ''sleepy''. I have a bad feeling about these candies traps. That''s a lot of pranking potential and pure danger in the wrong hands.


    More importantly, how do I make money off this? Sleeping pills? Hair tonic? Refrigeration ice stones?!


    But the matter of exploiting my minions for profit is for another time. I really do need to get back and pull grampa''s ear off about that dungeon.


    That''s not supposed to happen just yet?!


    "No fair I wanna sleep with Cap and Gable tonight." Lukas whines, getting completely naked before changing into his pajamas.


    Modesty does not exist below a certain age apparently. No such thing as shame when the worse of it is already out of the way. While I sigh, I make no fuss about changing or bathing together after all this time, especially when it''s grampa or Gable throwing us all in together. I swear they see us as little vegetables or something.


    "I''m not sleeping over! Amar was being a little liar again. Hey wait, one or the other, you can''t crawl in with both Gable and my grampa."


    "I never lied?" pipes up Amar, pouting again.


    "Yes I can! I already have lots of times!" Lukas argues.


    "Don''t be ridiculous." I roll my eyes at the boys, patting their cheeks with lotion.


    Honestly, they''re more challenging to deal with than my own sister, the drama-filled protagonist, at this stage. At least they''re cute. So squishy too. Good minions, eat lots and grow lots. So I can use you all to your full potentials of course. Otherwise you two cost too much to feed and repair damages. Oh, I''m just so evil, oh ho ho ho.


    "...Rosa...you''re talking weird again? Ow, my cheeks."


    "I have! Lots and lots in their bed. I can have both of them!"


    "They don''t share a bed you fool." I finish up.


    Pat pat, keep that mochi skin soft and cute. Gotta keep you two ready as bait in case mother comes back.


    "Uh huh yes they do! "


    "Why would they? That makes no sense, they can afford more beds!"


    "Because it''s more fun that way! Duh!"


    "The''re adults Lukas. Adults don''t share beds."


    "Camp"


    "This is a house! Camping is not every day."


    "Noooo, mamas and da'' do!"


    "Those are parents! They''re married! "


    "Same thing!"


    "No Lukas. No, it''s not!"


    Amar yawns at our antics. All finished with changing, he tugs both of us along each by the hand as Lukas talks nonsense. Like the good big brother I refuse to call him, he knocks on the door to the adults'' quarters, where they certainly do not share a bed, and slides me through like a delivery package.


    "Here''s your grampa Rosa. Night night. Don''t worry, your mama and papa are strong. And you don''t have to lie so much? You don''t need to."


    "Me?! I don''t lie like-"


    But the door closes against my butt after one last head pat and push. Ow, watch it this toddler body is sensitive. Beyond the door Lukas''s voice still babblers on, trying to convince anyone, even Amar, about his crazy stories.


    Raising minions from scratch is a lot harder than expected.


    I would slump to the floor dramatically in the thought of all that''s going wrong so far. But I can afford better than that. Just as I was about to slump over a pile of cushions on the nearby settee, the drawing board distracts me.


    Really, it''s just a big chalkboard. A little out of place in a farmhouse but not in the troops or my own villa. This isn''t exactly the average farmhouse anyways.


    It''s a fake. With a lot more hiding on the inside.


    How fitting for who lives inside.


    On the board is a messily drawn map. Utter nonsense to someone else unused to grampa''s handwriting. I can see the identification marks try to map out the known area, already explored of this newly found dungeon.


    And I hate it.


    "Pumpkin!!!"


    At this rate, I expect to be so trained that even a sudden tornado could not kill me. For a Ventrella adult is a force of nature enough. Ack this beard face stings. Gable help! Come and burn off his face.


    "Grampa put me down already, I have information for you." I smack at the crazy old man, more to let out my own frustration than to any effect on him. It''s like hitting a solid cow, only I''d feel less bad about animal abuse. Elderly abuse doesn''t count here.


    "Oh? What does my wittly itty bitty-"


    "Reincarnator club time! Put away the stupid face and take me seriously for a minute. Ah ...is anyone listening in right now?"


    With a dopey smile still ever present on his dumb face, grampa nonchalantly taps the door. Electricity zapping over the room from that point, blooming itself in branches.


    "There wasn''t, but now there certainly won''t be."


    "Not even any secret guards?"


    Grampa gives me a raised brow sort of look, and I must admit dumb question. No one is allowed through the barrier without notice, and I don''t think any more guard, father''s men or no, can get through something locked off by both grampa and Gable. Especially when it regards their privacy, something they''re both notoriously known for in different ways.


    It''s not that I''ve forgotten, it''s just....I''ve literally been living with them?


    Gable has his hermit reclusiveness but grampa is especially bad for being a celebrity. Or perhaps it''s because of that fame, that he''s actually so secretive. Showing only certain awfully silly sides to those who know him, and the widespread persona beyond that of an almost make believe hero. It''s impossible to refute public perception that long-standing, especially in this slow information sort of world. Maybe''s he''s gone crazy in it all.


    No one can predict grampa after all.


    "It''s too soon. The discovery of this dungeon is happening over 10 years too soon." I set myself back to the topic at hand.


    "Is it now?" grampa smiles, setting me down in a cushion.


    With a tap, the chalkboard is instantly cleared, except for the outlined map drawn on the side. His tone is still jolly, not entirely serious, yet there''s something that makes me gulp. Flight instinct already activated.


    But I can''t run away from everything. Otherwise, what''s the point of all this? What''s the point of these memories, the few cheats I do have?


    Everything I do must be for my long term survival.


    "Yes, at least....I was 14? The dungeon wasn''t discovered till then, and it''s bad news."


    "Bad? How so?" the chalk in his hand moves quickly, working out the frame of a chart and timeline. Something visible that I can work with. It reminds me of the whiteboards and big planners at work, well back when I actually went to work.


    "What are we expecting beyond?" grampa lists and actually doodles out simple and surprisingly understandable pictures of some of the magic pests that lay inside the underground dungeon.


    Mostly bug types. Spiders with reported size specifications too large to not scream and faint over. Paralyzing fuzzy centipedes with poison whiskers and stingers. Even down to the heat resistant eels deep down the levels, under pools of miasma and fire. It all makes my eyes raise with panic.


    "No- the dungeon is fine, it''s all the people that made it....How did you get all this information so fast? It took us half a year of expeditions to reach down to the eel pools?!"


    Jumps and leaps of thoughts bombard me. Did grampa already know? Did this man already know about this place years beforehand, and just left it for the rest of us to deal with? Just like he runs away?


    "That long? It''s been barely a month since Maria crashed in... How about we start with what''s actually dangerous down there Rosalia. Your mama and papa are still down there."


    "What?! You mean no one''s gone down to rescue them yet?!"


    "....Pumpkin pie, hmm how do I say this? What would Gable say...ah! Rosalia, I think it''s the dungeon and all the innocent creatures down there that need us saving it, from extinction. Not Maria...definitely not Maria, though she does have the tendency to get even more lost. Good thing Freddy is down there to reign her in huh! But don''t worry, they''ll bring you back lots and lots of pretty presents!"


    I feel my tongue getting dry, though that could be remedied if I could close my own jaw. Say what now?


    "Grampa....I think I came from a different world?"


    "Me too!" he exclaims, as if we were sharing what toppings we liked on pizza.


    "No no no, grampa listen. In my memory mother is this weak frail ideal little delicate lady who stayed indoor all the time with flowers and embroidery and ladies'' tea parties because her health can''t take anything more! She''s not active, in fact she''s bedridden over most of the winter?! She doesn''t...she doesn''t lift hammers or go crashing anything but dropped tea cups?!"


    Lots of dropped teacups actually. The weight of it too much for her to handle sometimes she would say. In reality, mother is actually really clumsy.


    At least that part still stayed the same.


    "Sounds like when she was weakest and pregnant with you two, so she never recovered?.... I never did like those tiny teacups! So breakable. Oh but all the ladies have to have them Maria would cry so we bought all the little things and...*sigh*.... But that''s not what''s really bothering you is it, Rosa? They don''t line up. Your memories don''t comply when you overlap and line them up now, do they Rosalia?" grampa sets down the chalk, walking over to squat down in front of me.


    If feels infantizing when a man so huge has to do that to get down to my eye level, even though I''m seated taller.


    "No. No they don''t and I don''t know what to believe anymore? Mama''s too weird. You haven''t run away yet? And I think papa actually... likes my presence?! It doesn''t make sense, and it doesn''t even matter where or when. It doesn''t because you all weren''t even there."


    "You can try."


    "Try what? Trying everything I can when I''m this weak? Try telling you about Lilyanne!? Where all the problems lie? Because I did! She gets visions, she gets powers. She can heal people and everyone loves her. They love her too much and then they''ll eat her up. That''s why I died! I know she didn''t kill me directly but she did. I died because of her and I lived even worse because of her. "


    "Good. Blame her then."


    "I don''t! She''s useless! Not her powers but her! Blaming her does nothing....I still die...I still.... "


    "Then blame me."


    That giant tanned hand, warm and littered with scars, takes my own little balled up fists. Instead of prying it open, he lets it be, hardly pinching my even smaller wrists to move them like one does a puppet toy. My hands move without my will, lightly smacks at his body, similar to how I would normally hit him anyways.


    I hit him with no strength. When I have permission, I have no will to do so.


    "Just blame grampapa. Alright?"


    I hate how he can still smile through this, through anything. I''ve always hated that smile. How they make people feel, even me. That false sense of security and hope. I hated it, I hate how I trusted it so much.


    You didn''t even show up at their funeral.


    "You''re only one person. How can I blame someone as useless as you?"


    But you were smiling with that ugly mug of yours when you whisked Lilyanne and I off early, out of that place and straight back home. Out of sight, away from any prying eyes and whispered rumors under the kiss ass condolences. As if we were actually a part of your secrets to keep, like I ever was.


    "They call you a hero over and over again, and I don''t even know why. It''s so annoying."


    I hate it. I hated listening to your empty promises and silly distracting stories. I hated when you cry over the stupidest little things with those big brown eyes yet smile through the worst of it. It''s worse than even that girl''s because you have an idea of what''s going on.


    "You''re so annoying. Even though I''m really scared of you, of what you''re capable of, you''re really really annoying."


    You''re worse than her ignorance. You''re worse than mother''s indifference or father''s silence. You''re a liar.


    "Rosalia has always hated you."


    She hates most how much she loved you. Relied on you. Because you were the only family she had left to rely on. Then nothing.


    "So focus on yourself. Like you always do." like you always have. But my mouth runs on, too busy to be thinking out loud.


    "Since we have mutual interests, since it would be inconvenient for me to have those people die yet, let''s work together. Lilyanne will take too long to grow up, and her visions aren''t linear- there''s too many plot holes. I offer you at least one version of events- all that can go right and wrong for more than the next decade. I hate to say it but you''re the only one who can take the truth, and take full advantage of me. You know best how to cheat in life. All to put up with me and my insignificant businesses, it will cost less than your pocket change. Isn''t that an unfairly good deal? "


    Was I being too bold? This isn''t a business deal but my lifeline I''m gambling on. But isn''t the life of a noble just constant transactions and deals? Even their marriage? What a sick sad game we play.


    Either way, I have no room for regrets in this life. It''s too great a deficit if Rosalia''s carries over again.


    I already have enough of that on my own.


    Things I can no longer say. Debts to people left unpaid. The guilt must leave me at least partly insane. I still instinctively look for black eyes and boyish grins, even in unlikely faces. Wrong place and wrong time to let my thoughts go there. But whenever isn''t it the wrong time?


    Grampa sighs, that big strong scary hand reaches out and I dare not breathe. Gable wouldn''t let him crush me like a bug under this roof right? Right?! Should I start screaming at this point? Maybe breathing?


    The big bad scary hand pats my hair and sighs again even louder.


    "It''s turning even redder, ah why did you have to take after Freddy in these parts? My baby girl is going to blame me for this when she gets back."


    "...leave my hair...out of this!" I screech, taking a pillow to blindly wack at this oaf.


    Bad Grampa! Stupid grampa! What the hell, I was being serious there!


    "Why *smack* are you *smack* always *smack* like this!!!"


    At the end of the day though, my stamina isn''t so great. Especially since life isn''t so leisurely in these vineyards, babysitting my sister and the minions in all the ''training'' excuses of chores. Fueled with rage and long-simmering frustration, I quickly tire out from hitting full force with a pillow for a couple of minutes. My tiny arms throbbing with fatigue.


    Ah don''t ever boo on fight scenes. This is too much effort!


    "That''s it. Doesn''t that feel better?"


    "I was being serious!"


    "And now you''re being honest for once. Not placing things at a distance. It''s easier that way, I know, but then you can''t say all the important things you need to. Then you can''t make it real."


    Even though my hands are sore, I wack him once again. For lack of anything better to say. Not like it will work on someone as crazy as him.


    "It hurts less that way. You hurt a lot the first round, huh? So much so you don''t want it to be real. You don''t want to do it all over again. You don''t want to face any of what hurt you again. And that''s us." grampa put on a bit of a disparaging smirk, finger pointed to his head like a gun.


    I feel the pillow drop from my hands.


    "Nothing I can do about that time pumpkin. You''re right, I wasn''t there. And you can''t chase ghosts for what they don''t remember, what they didn''t do just yet. The ghosts can chase you, they can even haunt you, but you don''t get to chase them back. There''s nothing there but a dead end, and you ran all that way for nothing. Frustrating isn''t it?"


    "Why do you always talk like that? Why can''t you just...say what you mean?!"


    "Can you?"


    "Of course! I...I-"


    "Do you miss it? Being someone else? That person before this?"


    Why is it, that when this person actually becomes serious in that particular way of his, I always find myself dumb? Numb, dumb and speechless.


    Nothing is resolved and it already hurts this much. It''s already this dangerously scary. It''s not good for my heart. I want to blame it on him and run away. I just want it to go away.


    And that is why I can never get over myself, why I can''t ever move on. Why I''m never good enough for anything, or anyone.


    "No.... No, I don''t miss being me at all." I try not to choke, honest truth bubbling out "I miss things. I miss people. I miss....a lot...but I wasn''t a very good person. I''m still not. I didn''t like being me very much all at much."


    "Being good? Doesn''t mean anything, not in any world. Don''t fret over it, Rosalia. Don''t let it eat you all up inside."


    "Why do you ask me that? Why don''t you ever....do you miss it? Whoever you were before? Whatever life you managed to make before all this? Does it even matter? You''re rich, famous, ridiculously strong, does it even matter? "


    "Of course it does. Everything matters. Every little thing. "


    "Do you miss it?"


    "Sometimes. Sometimes I miss that I couldn''t do anything more. Life goes by, it went by, and I missed it. All the tedious things, the unimportant moments with the right people, the right person, they''re the ones I miss most. And I didn''t know, just how damn much I would, till it was all gone."


    Warm big hands wipe away this young body''s uncontrollable tears but I can''t hold down how much I hate him.


    I hate this man. I hate it most when he smiles as I cry.


    Don''t do that when you look so damn sad. Just don''t. Don''t act as if the world is going to die if you can''t keep it up. Don''t bother if you''re going to look so lonely underneath it all.


    Don''t smile so much when you just want to cry yourself.


    The same words the Rosalia could never say still sits in a lump in my chest. Stupid. Stupid helpless old man. Can''t even take care of himself. The very worse sort of accomplice in this big bad world. I really can''t do anything with him.


    "Do you....ever want to go back?" I ask, carefully, as if treading the woods in the dark.


    "...No. No I don''t think I would."


    "But, you missed it? Everything, everyone, they slipped through your fingers and you missed it. "


    "Time does that to anything and everyone. I missed it. And I''ll miss this if I do. Not the fame, power or riches. What I have now, who I have now. This...I wouldn''t give this up for anything. Little one, you''re not me, nor do I know you and your story."


    There is a word I remember, from that other world that is now only a story. Sonder. The realization that everyone, absolutely everyone, has a story. Just as crazy, just and mundane, awful, and beautiful. Everyone, even a crazy old man, has a painful story somewhere in them. Maybe lots of stories.


    For one to live this long, there must be a collection of them. Personal stories lived out.


    "But, having a family, like the one you do now, is more than anything someone as pathetic as me ever could have imagined." he whispers.


    But they''re not mine, I think, lips tight. I think it and something inside me sink. I don''t have anything like that. I''m the pathetic one, not you.


    "You''re right...that we''re very different....I don''t think about it. I don''t want to. I''m going to miss too much, I think I''ll die. And I think I''ve died enough."


    It doesn''t get any less scary. Or less lonely.


    "Silly girl, that''s what people do. They live and they die, again and again. But if done right, you''ll live it all well to the end."


    That''s wrong. I''ve already missed it, that chance. In an even worse way, Rosalia''s missed her''s and so she''s dead. Somehow, now I''m here. I''ve both given and robbed her of her chance.


    And I won''t think any more about mine. It wasn''t a very good one anyway.


    "You don''t have to believe me, and you certainly don''t have to delve into it. All those memories and what they mean. Not just yet. Because you very well may die from it, be buried by them."


    A terrifying dream flashes through my mind. One that sounds chillingly like the voice in front of me now. I know I can blame him till the world ends, and it still won''t be enough. I know he''s right.


    But that doesn''t mean I like it!


    Hopping off the settee, I use grampa and a stepping stool to get to the chalkboard. The board being too tall for me to use it properly, but I make do, filling in parts and pieces of the map I do remember. My memory isn''t perfect, especially since exploring dungeons isn''t in Rosalia''s arsenals. But it was important to keep track of any goods that came in or out of the territory. Loot and raw materials, especially stolen ones from a newly discovered spot, more than counted.


    Besides, it''s better than remembering anything else.


    Monsters and wild grass. Not bakeries and bar menus. Estimated time frame, men, safety precautions to take in advance. Not work schedules and meet ups, not video calls and friends.


    Not anyone.


    "You work too much..." a familiar friendly face moans in boredom on the phone screen. The battery low and the device running hot.


    "Hang up then." she hardly looked over at the complaining face.


    Worksheets spread out over multiple desks even though she was alone. Infographics on the computer screen and too much demographic research to be of any specific use. The space on the messy whiteboard took near every inch with her scribbles and brainstorm notes.


    "No."


    "You''ll just be watching me do this boring shit all night."


    "No, charge up your phone and close up. It''s late."


    "Yeah it is. Hang up already, you''re two hours ahead of me over there!"


    "Right? So if you care for me and my terrible student sleep schedule at all, go the fuck home already Meng. Ah keep the phone on, it''s dangerous. Did you plug it in it yet?"


    "For god''s sake, yes." an office chair rolled over, making sure to hook up the device. For good measure, she glared at the other side of the screen, taking on an authoritative tone. "It''s fine. I''m a proper adult unlike you, I''m used to working overtime and staying out late. Hang up and go to sleep like a good boy already. You won''t do well if your brain is useless like it is now."


    "...I''m already 22....and just because you''re used to it doesn''t mean that''s a good thing? Mengy, I''m tired but more importantly.... don''t stay in dark empty office building all by yourself. Don''t you know...." that voice began to take a slightly ominous tone.


    "Don''t you dare finish that sentence- don''t you dare try to scare the crap out of me again, I need to be ahead of schedule for all this work I''m juggling and there are the clients to impress tomorrow." Meng cut him off.


    "Oh? You''re already ahead of schedule? Good job, but you''re not guaranteed any paid bonuses for that will you?"


    "....that''s not the point. It''s about building long term clientele so loyal to our brand they''ll be begging to work with me everywhere I go!"


    "Ah...so loyal....sounds like this story I heard. About an overworked office worker, he worked so hard for so little recognition that-"


    "That he died! Heard it a million times. Get off of the scary part of the internet and either study or go to sleep you brat! You''re not scaring me tonight?!" She tried, and if she yelled enough maybe she would actually believe it.


    The office was quite dark all on her own.


    "It''s not just one person though...they say that spirits gather energy, resentment. There''s a lot we don''t understand, can''t see with the naked human eye. In a big empty building...in the dark night where no other living soul is around... such a pretty girl as yourself...in your stockings and high heels, ah even a dead ghost wouldn''t be able to resist." Jung-Joon states, sighing across the screen.


    "Jokes on you, I changed into fuzzy slippers!" she lifted her foot, up to where the camera was angled to view the animal shaped slippers.


    "Ah very cute. If I was a ghost I''d still go after you. Like right now. No problem. Better make it running shoes for a slightly faster escape." he pointed out.


    "Haha bastard, I listened to enough of your shit to know I can outrun a ghost."


    "Meng?"


    "What? You finally give up and will let me work?"


    "...Of course not. I miss you. I just miss everything about you. Say you miss me too?"


    "...."


    "Meng? Come on, don''t hide. Mengy~ Let me see your face? Is it very red? I miss that too. Ah, I really want to make and see you get embarrassed in person. Can this semester go by any faster? So close. "


    "I''m hanging up, go to sleep or fail your next course. See if I care."


    "Ah, don''t do th-"


    She really hung up, and if her face was hot it was probably from talking too long on the phone. Even if it was video call propped up. Finally, some peace and quiet to get work done more effectively.


    The zealous worker enjoyed prompt 1 minute of silence before realizing just how dark and quiet it was without another voice echoing in the room. Even if it was just through something as small as a mobile device.


    It was a nice and modern building. Sure the machinery hummed, and sometimes something creaked, but definitely not haunted. Right?


    A car drove by outside, lights and shadow flickering. Something made a hollow thump in the wall. A tapping from the sink, dripping steadily undetected from before.


    Too quiet. It was too quiet and she couldn''t stop herself from noticing everything, anything. Maybe she should turn on some more lights? Lights were good yes, lights and music and...


    The elevator dinged and no one else should be in the building.


    "Eeeeep!" she couldn''t press the phone app open fast enough, the connection wasn''t going through fast enough.


    "Pick up pick up pick up, please, pick up."


    "Aww, do you miss me yet? In that....1 minute and 23 seconds?" the screen connected, back to life.


    "Jung-Joon shut the fuck up and get ready to call for help, witness me as I potentially die."


    "Um, hmmm you know this isn''t the kind of late night call I was hoping for from you. But alright then. I''ll take what I can get."


    "No, you don''t get it. There''s no one else here right now!?"


    "It is very late in the night. Like I said. "


    "The elevator just- oh shit...I heard something. ...Outside in the hall?!"


    "So....it''s time."


    "Time for what you little shit? This is all your fault, like it could just be someone who forgot something and-"


    "They''re here for you. Just like I warned...but you didn''t listen."


    "Jung-Joon?!?!"


    "It may be too late....but no matter what Meng, I need you to know...that I lo-"


    "I''m barring the doors! I''m ahh!!!! It''s-"


    *slam*


    The door swings open at the same time a heavy loaded office chair flings itself to the would be ghost. For a horror story undead, it was surprisingly human-like, doubling over in pain. Another female ghost with short hair stood behind, howling in laughter.


    "Get wrecked bro!"


    "Sunny?! Why are you...Bossman, oh shit uh...hey there....you alright? Sorry about the....chair?"


    On the floor, the poor man was hit a little too hard to give any more answers than a whimper, clutching at parts any man valued more than his life. It''s a good thing he was single, Meng blearily noted, because whatever she just hit wasn''t going to recover any time too soon.


    On the video chat, Jung-Joon could finally finish his sentence, through some light laughter of his own.


    "I was saying, that I love and worry about you so much, that I asked someone to come drag you home. Or at least out of the office. It''s not good for you. Sunny just made the most sense, with her studio in the same building. Sorry, did you get scared? Ah, is my brother even alive?"


    "Ahahahahaha! That was awesome! That chair came full force out of nowhere and hit just right?! Ahahahha!"


    "Bossman, like....Oh fuck. I am so sorry.... you could have texted or called me ahead though?!"


    The two girls dragged up the whimpering pale man on the floor, his only cursing words being "ugly violent woman" and "disowned, Jung-Joon from henceforth you are disowned!"


    "Don''t blame me, I''m not even there." the other side of the screen complained, "Sunny thanks for picking up Mengy, I can finally get some sleep in peace now. Night Meng. Sleep tight, remember to dream of me tonight."


    "...."


    She promptly hung up the phone, too tired for violence. Apparently there was already enough of that. One person was still clutching himself immobile with pain, the other still laughing her ass off and the work on the whiteboard still wasn''t all organized and done.


    It would just have to do.


    It''s a chalkboard in front of me, not anything more modern than that.


    My height is small and my hands are even smaller as I scribble. The material only relevant to this world, this life and current situation. Thank goodness. Nothing unnecessary. Nothing more.


    I''m too tired for any of that. I don''t want to remember any more than I already do.


    It''s already...too much work to recall what I can. To even keep up. I can hardly keep my eyes open, and no it''s not from crying too much. Well at least not all of it. Curses, how dare these horrible meetings always leave me in tears.


    "This is as much as I know. The dungeon is barely mid level- nothing the troops can''t handle. Let it rest 3 weeks to regenerate if it''s not destroyed and most importantly of all..." I hop down, dusting my fingers off chalk to smack off grampa''s knowing gaze, "do not give the public access! Lock it down! Station people and close it off. We actually have enough decent manpower this time to secure the premise, I repeat do not let locals, travelers or any of the masses free access. It''s going to cause mayhem. Idiots."


    When I look back at the board, my additions are barely anything to what grampa already had down. The found site honestly not being all that large or dangerous compared to others that exist in this world. But I still worry.


    It was certainly too much work for the Rosalia of that time. But perhaps now? With grampa actually at home in the reigns and the troops still in their prime? I think we actually have a chance to profit from this, provided they follow my simple instructions.


    That''s a wrap. It''s not good for my body to stay up so late.


    "Will note, but just where are you headed off to now pumpkin?"


    "To bed, I''m tired now, good night."


    "Awww but-"


    "No way am I sleeping in your dumb gross bed, wherever it is. Talk to me when it''s Gable or something. Goodnight!"


    With that I huff off and out, storming to the kiddies'' room. How dangerous. I think grampa was actually serious about these terrible attempts at bonding. Ah too frightening, being treated as in infant teddy bear by a man of that strength and caliber would be too dangerous. I''d never be able to sleep a wink in fear.


    In the semi-lit children''s quarter, I check in on my baby sister fast asleep in her magically locked crib. The perfect kind to spot to keep her nice and safe. It''s hard for her to even stay up pass 7pm, let alone this terribly late hour.


    Personally, I like more room and no one sucking on my thumb in my own sleeping quarters. With a spare stolen pillow clutched to my side, the same one used to wack grampa into somewhat submission today, I smack some snoozing minions taking up my spot on the big bed.


    "Move over." I growl.


    Blearily Lukas rolls awake, taking in my unexpected appearance and exclaiming his daily nonsense.


    "Ha! Did they kick you out too! Told you, you can''t do it every night or Gable gets mad or Cap gets grumpy but sometimes it''s okay and sometimes they''re really snuggly and warm but not all the time because-"


    "You''re dreaming weird things." I crawl into the prewarmed bed, kicking and rearranging my pillows to buffer out the sound.


    "Nu-uh, I can prove it because sometimes is a lot of times for me and only you don''t believe me because stinky baby doesn''t count but Amar believes me too because he says sometimes they smell alike so-"


    "Sleep." groans and rolls over Amar from his corner against the wall, his version of tired whining, "Sleepy time now."


    "But Rosa kicked me. And she still thinks and says-" it was a mistake to wake Lukas. Lots of things are mistakes here.


    "You kick and hit everyone in your sleep. Uh I mean- anything you say Lukas, now ssshhhhhhh. " I beg, already fluffed and curled in.


    "But-"


    "Please? Sleep?" Amar yawns, hiding further into the covers.


    "Fiiiiine. Rest up sidekicks so you both get bigger and stronger faster. But I''ll prove it laters."


    Satisfied with this moment in peace, I sigh and peacefully drift away. Because there''s really only so much a girl like me can do. It''s not like I''m getting paid extra for this after all.


    Oddly, I feel lighter and more relaxed than I have been in a while, even with all the laborious exercise. Sleep hitting far too soon and very comfortably. I don''t dream of anything, just the way I like it.


    ------------


    -----


    Bonus:


    -----


    --------------


    "So..."


    Gable doesn''t mean to pry, really now he doesn''t. But it''s a rare time for either Ronald or his little Rosalia to share anything of their unique circumstance, let alone at the same time, even less so to each other.


    "She says she hates me, oh she sounds so much like Maria in those pesky teen years when she says it like that! It''s like raising a teenager in a toddler?!"


    "There there now, I''m sure that''s not what she actually means. Ron, Ron get off the ground and come to bed already."


    "*gasp!* And she said there''s no way we can have a sleep over! But when Maria was little she''d always come right up and curl-"


    "It''s fine Ron. Rosa likes being a mature girl. Everyone is different. Your granddaughter of all people especially so."


    Gable tries comforting, though somehow it ended with him on the ground instead of getting Ron up. The other man''s head firmly on his lap as he moped and cried.


    As much as Gable didn''t mind it when Ron was finally still, even somewhat so obedient for once, the position was getting a bit much. He wasn''t as young as he used to be and tired out easier after a long day. Surely there were more comfortable spots for this.


    "It''s Freddy! She takes too much after him, from the hair to the gold obsession! It''s ruining my baby girl''s babies'' cuteness."


    Gable''s hand stopped it''s absent-minded comforts and pets, halting in thought. "You know, I actually agree with you for once. It is the blasted boy."


    "Right?! When she gets overwhelmed she acts like a little Freddy before he calmed down, all ''blah blah I am a very smart noble, yes business. Do we have a deal? Or shall I take your soul?''"


    "Ron you exaggerate, it''s not that level of awful. Oh fuck if it was..."


    "Yet! You see it happening?! Slowly as her hair turns full on Bichierri- oh but when she gets mad that''s just Maria." the brunette slightly shivered, thankful that out of anything Rosa didn''t inherit all of his Maria. Still just as cute, but less....painful.


    "And that is why, Ron, I''m saying Rosa doesn''t mean it every time she says things like that. Remember all the times Maria went off crying ''papa I hate you?''. Why she even said it to me on occasion!" Gable grimaced, remembering old times that really weren''t that long ago?


    "Gabe, she hasn''t once dared since she passed puberty. She loves you too much for that. Me, however, she said it just the other day on the portal call!" Ron exclaimed, hands waving where he lay.


    "Well....you were... interrupting her plans...."


    "Oh god, Gable. What if they get a boy? What if I get a grandson?! I''ve never had a grandson!? What do I do?!"


    "You''re asking me? The one with no kids-"


    A banging crashing sound clattered in the ceiling above, sounding out from the next room. It was a sound that prompted both the adults to quickly get up and see what was the commotion. It wasn''t that they were worried about any intruder but instinct acted first. Especially when there were little ones in the property. Weak, vulnerable, and-


    "Ahaha! Made it! I can prove it now! "


    ...and loud little children in the house.


    "Oh, ahahaha it''s just Lukas. Huh, how did he climb through there? Like a raccoon-dog? We need to work on your sneaking boy!"


    "Ron don''t encourage him....Lukas....what are you doing up and messing about?" Gable asked as calmly as he could, for it was late in the night and his options were even more limited.


    He was incredibly tempted to just lock the children''s room. The entire thing, every night. Just magically set them for at least 9 hours, the time they should be sleeping anyway. That would be 9 more safe set hours of peace. Of no....this?


    But he''s sure the kids would cause mayhem somehow, even more so if they took their eyes off them in a sense of false security. The littlest one also didn''t deserve the same treatment as a certain three troublemakers did. Especially....Lukas.


    "So....are you going to answer? Or do I have to..." Gable starts, ready to pull and straighten the little boy making a mess of the bed.


    "Gaaaable, I want to sleep with you and Cap tonight? Pleeeease. Please please please. Is today one of the okay times? Can I stay with you?"


    Big wide, baby eyes. A shade of grey too similar to what Gable sees in the mirror each day, frosted ever so subtly a darker shade of icy blue. He shouldn''t feel anything for them but god damn he does. When they look up at him, paired with a puppy pout on those chubby cheeks and pleading voice, he''s just weak.


    It made sense with Maria. She was an adorable child with wild untamed hair, even wilder than Ronald''s, and eyes as meltingly warm as a gazelle. She took after Ron, warm and soft in all the ways Gable could never.


    But Lukas was supposed to be his family, he was supposed to be more resistant to this god damn it. How the hell did that younger sister of his, one he hardly noticed in their own frigid upbringing, ever give birth to such an innocent and horribly heart-melting child? Ron level disaster that he is reminiscent of.


    More importantly, how in the world did she ever give him up?


    "Oh pleeeeease Gabe." begged the other man, already taking the boy into his arms, holding him up directly under Gable''s nose. "Awwww he''s just been so lonely without you all the time Gabe. I would be too honestly, but peeeeeease."


    "...If you promise to never speak like that again." Gable facepalmed, not sure why he put up with the other man, ever. Like a damn weed sometimes, growing all over the place.


    "Yes!"


    "Yay! Thanks Gable! Cap cap cap Rosa kicked me again when she went to sleep and it actually kinda hurt so sidekick number two is definitely getting stronger! But Amar pinches me when he''s sleepy and I''m loud and that hurts more because he can twist just a little bit and it really really hurts but I can''t tell if that''s strong or just tricky- "


    "Ron, get him to bed. Now." Gable sighs, trying not to look.


    He can handle their noise. Their bothersome somewhat frustrating if not familiar noise. But looking was too much. It was just too much to see a doting Ron all over again over a child that looked much like him.


    Gable would like to keep his mind and sanity in check, thank you very much.


    "Gable? You too? Gable, pleeeease. I sleep better with you." the boy cried out, pleading voice an ice pick to his heart.


    "Why what a coincidence Lukas, me too! Pleeease Gable~" Ron played along, voice naturally teasing.


    Fine, he''ll think about how Lukas broke out in the morning. He''ll wring Ron for some actually useful information, the secrets the man juggles through their whole life, all in the morning.


    It''s late anyways


    --------------


    ------


    Bonus 2:


    ------


    ----------------


    "Oh darlings isn''t that just so novel?"


    "Papa! Papa, Lily want dat one. Pwwweeeeae."


    "Oh and look whatever is this? It''s so shiny."


    "And dat one and dat one and dat one."


    "Darling, does this suit me. Hmmmm perhaps something fuller?"


    "Dat dat dat dat dat! Pweasey pwease?!"


    "Darling?"


    "Papa?!"


    It''s two against one. An adorable lovable little girl and the even more beautiful woman that is her mother. Can any man resist such horrors?


    Or should he just give in what they want?


    "Such cheap things are beneath my girls. You won''t need bother."


    Safely cowered in my father''s arms, I fearfully watch on. I am fearful in general, for that is how I woke up.


    Before dawn rose, I was struck with a sudden paralyzing terror. The sound of heavy panting not far from the edge of my bedside. I did not dare open my eyes. Like any child, I snuggled under the sheets, hoping the blankets could protect me against all reason. This strange fear as familiar as it was terrifying.


    Down below I could hear the steady breaths of another sleeping child, but more so- that heavy breathing outside the sheets.


    Right beside me.


    I couldn''t believe someone with my mental age was afraid, so very afraid of monster and boogeyman. But how else do you explain that horrible fear?!


    Slowly, as I were I still asleep, I wriggled and rolled my way closer to a fellow child, away from the edge of the monster. It felt so long. An arduous journey, painstakingly poised to look natural in feigned sleep. Even though I suffocated under the heat of those covers, my body shivered immensely.


    When I finally touched on another source kiddy warmth, I clutched on, clinging for survival and admittedly part comfort. If the monster strikes, my chances go up by taking one of the boys down with me.


    From the dark, the creature above me in the outside world let out a horrible muffled noise!


    "Kyaaaaa~"


    Oh my god it was ghastly! The stuff of nightmares! It was, of course, my mother.


    But in that situation how was a girl supposed to react? Especially with such a strong terrifying aura floating out. For hours till morning, I shivered and hung on under the safety of the covers. Still pretending to be asleep but too fearful to actually really fall all the way.


    That thick dangerous aura and the frighting monstrous mumbles "kyaaaa kyaaa, oh no so cute!!! Kyaaaa they''re too cuuuuuute" scared me more than any encounter with grampa ever will.


    Ignorance is truly bliss for the other child slept on despite the all the frightening sounds outside. Somewhere in the time though, I eventually did fall asleep for real. The fact that we weren''t eaten, even when the monster slowly pried off the blanket enough to "kyaaaa kyaaa!!!~" at our sleeping faces, or in my case feigned, was the climax of this nightmare.


    At a much more reasonable hour, when birds were chirping and light actually streamed through the curtains, a loud almost sharp sound pierced next to me! On the other side?! I was suddenly snatched off the bed and seemingly stolen away. The harsh movements obviously jolting me awake if I wasn''t already.


    I have been in my father''s arms ever since. Shivering in confusion and fear, and honestly too sleep-deprived for a child my age.


    Mother and father are truly back, opening up the manor and freeing me from the farmhouse. A place that was both at once heaven and hell, with both Gable and Grampa running things.


    As much I did not worry or miss the parentels at all, I am glad they''re back. For they really did bring presents. It''s just...a lot?


    And by that I mean in raw materials. Spider web silk, fillets of eels, a grass that sparkles like gold. What is all this stuff?


    I''d ask, but I''m honestly too afraid and tired to at the moment.


    For some odd reason, mother looks more terrifying than ever before, despite dressed prim and proper like always. From the main hall, she spins and showcases the goods for father and Lilyanne. From inside father''s arms, the additional scent of blood still carries over despite the very strong smoke of gunpowder on him. When he pets my hair and asks how my time with grampa was, his smile is bloodcurdling handsome.


    Let''s....just not think about it for the time being.


    At least they''re back, safe and sound. For now, that''s all that matters.


    Please go to


    to read the latest chapters for free

 120 Lemon drinks

    We are very behind schedule.


    I want to ask my parents, did you two have fun? Abandoning your own small helpless children to their grandparents, so you can do what? Discover and raid a dungeon? Have a second honeymoon? Did you horrible awful no good parents have fun rolling around underground in some horribly deadly romantic getaway? Huh!?


    But I won''t say anything because I really don''t want to know. I don''t want to hear anything, no excuses, no gross stories, just hand over the money and go!


    But first put me down.


    "Rosa~ Oh my, our little baby girl is so cute even when she sulks. My my my just wherever does she get it from?" mother coos and kisses at my face, all before leaning up to sweetly peck at the man holding me.


    "Is it here?" she presses.


    "Maria, we''re under the light of day." he chuckles in between soft kisses, mouth sounding increasingly compromised. That''s clearly not enough of a no, especially for mother. The horrible sound of lips and skin increasing still.


    AAAAAhhhhhh!!! I see nothing but I can hear it? How mortifying!


    How did their affections get so blatantly worse in the time we''ve been apart. How? How did that happen?! It''s awful, where did any sense of shame and propriety shame go?! Father, how could you be so public-ally disgusting. Oh the red hot shame, the horror!


    "Stop it!"


    Said skin-crawling shame has forced me to erupt, and accidentally headbutt my own mother. Of course, at my current height, it only hits her on her very heavily naturally padded chest. No harm there, but it certainly gets her attention, and a whimpering groan as she slowly pulls away.


    I''m going to die either way, aren''t I? Either by mother or the shame, it''s killing me.


    "Oh ho ho, awwww I know what my Rosa wants."


    Money. Pay me.


    Mother pays in the completely wrong currency. I do not take kisses and shameful displays of affection. Cash and liquidate goods only.


    This little body of Rosalia isn''t very lucky. When the original wanted attention or affection, she got money and gifts. When all I want is money and gifts, I get worthless grossness. Where are my riches? My funds? Pile it on!


    No not kisses! Money. I want the money!


    Panting and overheated, I squirm to avoid the onslaught that is mother. But the nerd''s arms are a lot more solid than they have any right to be. I''m trapped! Trapped I say! I can''t even burrow myself into his waistcoat at his angle. Help!


    My constant fight back must have some effect since mother stops, but I don''t like the cruel teasing look on her face.


    "Hmmm ooooh I see."


    Like I was a small animal to be sacrificed, slaughtered, mother plucks me easily out of the hold and places me up to father''s somehow still pristine face. It''s been a month or so since I''ve seen this devil. It''s quite bewildering, especially so up close.


    Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to think Gable. This horrible man in front of me is nothing! His hair is red, his nose hair is probably red, how laughable, he''s absolutely nothing. So he''s kinda good looking even grossly up close, so what? Who cares about unholy facial symmetry and picture-perfect golden ratios. Who cares if those mesmerizing eyes cast molten gold under than fiendishly inspecting look. That curiously pleased crook somehow making an imperfect smile all the more charming


    Wait why am I in this position in the first place?


    "Go on then." mother shakes my little body lightly, raising me up to knock against...


    AHHHHHHHHH get me away! Ahhhhhh! No no no! Don''t you dare! Too out of character, too OOC! This isn''t in line with that cold cruel fiend or even the nerd I know. Stop! Don''t break father''s characters stats even further!


    Instead of stopping the madwoman or even trying being the respectable person I know father likes pretending to be, he breaks out into a pearly smile at my plight. It''s as if the earth has split to reveal a whole new world, perhaps a dark dungeon of horror and riches.


    This devil!


    Shaking his head he leans down, despite my great struggles and fight, and lays a wretched curse upon my forehead. Right onto the center. I can feel the laugh on his terrible lips against my head, the sensation practically cool on my overheated face.


    The OOC character limit is far past broken. Please hold. Rosalia operating system on cooldown, rebooting.


    ...


    When I come to again, it''s inside the rocking carriage. The road being absurdly bumpy even in a carriage as obscenely large as this. It''s the size of a large room, and it''s just the riding compartment, not any of the luggage. The best and most comfortable that money can buy, especially if I''m to survive my motion sickness. Still, it''s as bumpy as if we were riding against tiresome cobblestone. A sensation that isn''t felt even against rough muddy roads. While the carriage itself is pretty soundproof, if one leaves a window open, the sights and sounds can still make their way through.


    Outside bustles colorfully with people, markets, the sound of a lively city. Or whatever can count as a populated city in an olden world like this.


    "My my my, did you have a good nap Rosa? What good timing my little darling, we''re almost there." mother pats over my side, my head of short curls spilled over the folds of her dress on her lap.


    "Rosa! Rosa wakey now!" Lilyanne clamors from her other side, sounding excited.


    Both mother and daughter are dressed rather lightly, with layers of soft fluff. In the warming summer weather and for any travel it looks to be convenient and easy to move around in. To my modern senses, I could say it passes off as a slightly tougher chiffon dress, however, it''s a never before seen style here. Even more drastically different than the current popular trends of dark richly dyed and stiff heavily embroidered and jeweled fabrics.


    The silky dress that wraps around my mother is already an expensive shade of amethyst purple, even if the fabric looks unconventionally flimsy. Her favored ribbons wrapping around her waist in an outdated for this current century''s style, but giving her structure and a more womanly, though currently unfashionable shape.


    Mother''s bountiful chest is usually bound and buried under bands and layers of thick fabric to make it look as piously flat as possible, as is the trend. The ideal woman in these times is at most, the size of unripe apples, but clearly, my mother is the whole prize-winning selection of melons. Not that father, or any man really, would complain. My mother can pluck her eyebrows thinner or even lighten her skin with masks and makeup to meet this world''s beauty standards but she can''t do anything about what nature has blessed her with.


    Changing fashion is really weird.


    Perhaps because we''re just traveling, with no outside eyes on us, that mother can dress so comfortably and not have to worry about being seen.


    Though as if to really make sure no one would dare see call this dress cheap, opal and sparkly diamond beading caped at the shoulders, pinching the semi-sheer sleeves together as they draped down the arms.


    I''m so busy calculating how much each diamond encrusted opal bead would cost if I stole and pawned them, and the strange dress as a whole, that I hardly pay mind to Lilyanne''s flower blue dress in the same material, minus the shape and gems of course.


    "Mama it not fair, Rosa always nap when Lily awake and wake when Lily naps. Rosa keeps leaving Lily to play wit da big bruders all da time. Big bruder Lukas hits really hard and calls Lily stinky! Lily no stinky. Big bruder Amar lots nicer but still owie." Lilyanne apparently tattles, not just on me.


    At least she''s not telling about the time Amar somehow got Lukas to bite her back for all the times before. That would be bad.


    From across the carriage, I hear something snap. A feather pen perhaps? We need some sturdier pens? Designer fountain pens maybe? How do ball tips work? A darkening aura grows behind the desk where father works even in commute, broken pen all but forgotten.


    Wait we managed to fit a whole desk in here?!


    "Is that so?" father responds dryly.


    "Now now my sweet, that''s uncle Lukas." mother tuts at Lilyanne, wrapping her head in a little embroidered bonnet for going outside.


    I can''t stop my mouth from immediately asking, "Why is that one an uncle?!"


    "Why that''s how it works!" mother cheerfully croons to my confusion. Somewhere father sighs as if he''s heard this before and failed repeatedly to make any sense of it. Which might be exactly what happened.


    Lilyanne nods in a slow attempt at understanding, trying to classify a child a mere few years older into that of an ''uncle'', allowing mother to finish tying off two extra fat ribbons on either side of her head. A ridiculous if adorable look that a baby girl as cute as Lilyanne pulls off easily.


    "I still don''t get it." but who am I to stop nor try to understand the great mother?


    It''s already good enough I''ve been left in peace long enough to recover from the gross horrors of this morning. In the time I was forcibly knocked out, we must have loaded the carriage and made our way far out to this city.


    Mediolanum is a city that sits past our border''s northern territory. In fact, it''s the largest city in the connecting areas, making it a popular congregation of nobles and businesses. It''s not as fashionably renowned or refined as the capital of the midway lands, but that''s not exactly a fair comparison. For this peninsula it''s known to be one of the oldest, and thus largest.


    Many come to big cities like this one to gain better prospects. From making their livelihood long term to trying to make a quick venture, a pay off trade and deal. From the action houses to the fine shops that line the most expensive streets. It''s a landlocked location, but the exact spot amidst so many routes makes it an ideal trading hub.


    Unfortunately, it also borders Bicheirri territory.


    No matter. That''s not on the schedule any time soon. For me personally or father.


    We really are behind schedule, though to be fair father has a rather inhumane set of standards. It would be safe to say that I believe he''s thrown all plots to becoming anything of a prime minister or greater politician of the republic.


    Seriously his schedule makes no sense if he''s going that route, but it''s as if he doesn''t even care? It has deviated far too much, going into construction, agriculture, and even architectural planning. Sure internal court work and territory management is being maintained, even improved with work being deligated across the board. But it''s just so baffling how much the course of history is going awry.


    I don''t know what to make of it all. Is this all my fault? It seems too extreme if my meddling has rippled into this sort butterfly effect to change my very capable father''s public career path.


    At least we''re still insanely rich. Yes keep those investments and businesses going, shady or not.


    If I''m going to have to suffer the next few years as Rosalia Ventrella, I better be doing it in the lap of luxury with no financial difficulties. That''s the one thing I can admit this parent did right. Awful as he was, he never let his family want for money.


    That''s something a spoiled little princess like the original goods could never appreciate. She knew her own entirely different set of hardships, one that the majority of people never could see even in their hellish nightmares, but not like that.


    She never had to taste what being poor was like. Lucky girl.


    Oh but did she know how to use it against others to do her bidding. Money really does make the world go round, and the scent of hunger and desperation is universal. Can''t do anything without money. Not even be left to exist. Nothing is ever free.


    "This is a very strange dress mother."


    I play with the excess material on her sleeves, eyes still glued on the shiny pins and buttons. While their costs are quite high, the dye to make this shade of purple alone is more than a low-class laborer could ever make in their whole life, even if he works till his body gives out.


    "Do you like it Rosa?! Isn''t it so light and marvelous? Mama and papa worked very hard to gather lots and lots of this wonderful spider silk. To think spider beasts made silk?" mother raves, waving a soft dyed sleeve across my little hands to play with.


    "All spiders do my love," father remarks, replacing his broken pen, "they''re simply too thin and small to be of any use. Nor do they collect enough prey to make use of the cacoon wraps."


    I remember. The spider silk that would be discovered in that underground dungeon. As lovely as it was surprisingly strong. It cut a dramatic cost against imported silks from the East. Just as long as no one knew where it really came from. Or how many people were eaten alive in the quest for them. Not like anyone knows how regular silk is made either. Made a pretty profit for adventurers or gatherers who knew the secret, if they survived.


    Though it was never used in the way that mother is wearing it now?


    "Oh it felt simply divine when your father first draped it over me. My poor dress was just so damaged against the hoard and it''s not like I fell in with any of my luggage. Oh boo hoo. It was so difficult to make do without a single needle or pretty ribbon. It felt as if I had returned to those horrid times in the wilds." mother holds a lace handkerchief to her glistening tears, her not very convincing sobs revealing much more than I ever asked.


    I mean there''s nothing wrong with her face. It''s very much a tragic saddened beauty, crystal tears at her eyes, delicate heavily lotioned hands wiping them away. Though there are definitely more callouses on them than mother would like. But her words? Every day with this woman breaks my grip with reality even more. It makes me want to somehow dig and find the original Rosalia, then shake her about this horrible game of spot the deadly differences.


    To be a little fairer to the original goods, she was a villainess. Maybe villainy children just don''t notice these Adam''s family horror when they grow up in it?


    How about no?


    "For some odd reason though, your father''s clothes and extra supplies survived just fine." mother giggles, as if remembering something funny.


    "Hmmm." father makes a noncommittal hum as he resumes work, avoiding eye contact.


    "It''s a good thing a fine lady always knows how to sew, even with nothing. And that papa long practiced me on how to work leather and armor from scratch. I suppose some of those things are useful.... Otherwise, I really might have been left with nothing to wear that whole time! Oh wouldn''t that have been shameful? Isn''t that right darling? Ohohohoho~"


    "A great shame indeed." father says expressionlessly.


    "Ah it''s been so long since I had to practice like that. What a challenge! Darling, do you think my lady like sewing skills have significantly improved? Speak honestly now~"


    "Wonderfully my love. Gone are the days you ran around unblemished like a cave-dwelling siren. Pure and simple but for the leaves. "


    "....Oh Frederick, hubby, my oh so wonderful gentleman whose mouth should be put to better use.... I''m finally going to shop to heart''s content now that we''re here. To make up for it all."


    "Yes dear."


    "We''re going to need.... oh so much."


    "Of course. Anything your delicate heart desires my goddess. "


    "I would like more dyes. More colors! All the colors! Oh it''s so fun making pretty things~ I didn''t you know could make them pretty! Oh this is why papa and Rosa like it so much! And I know soooo many girls, such sweet lovely girls and their babes, who would love to weave, oh if only there were some better mills to make me more cloth! Oh traveling is so far."


    "Right away my dearest wife."


    "Could we get more fine lace makers? Oh I do so love my lace! Cant'' do anything about jewels though? I''m just going to need to shop for more matching accessories. Oh but beads! Beads are so much fun! Anything can be made a shiny bead to string along. Just like you string me along!"


    "The world is your jewel box and I happily serve, Maria."


    "Do you now hubby?!"


    The whole time father nods along without looking up, though he gets increasingly faster and more effective at paperwork under this strange pressure. The horrible lovey-dovey pink aura is still here, very gross, but there seems to be something dark and sinister barely concealed underneath. Like a monster you know is right outside the covers....


    Let''s not think about it!


    Yes, it''s not my fault the original memories failed to mentally prepare me for any of this. I''m bad at horror. Really bad at scares of any kind, even cheap jump scares. Traumatized even, from the modern era. No, nope, not into it at all.


    Let''s not.


    Lilyanne peacefully rolls around the seat over mother, equally amusing herself with pretties and sparkles. Her little dress made of layers upon layers of the thin silk, and dyed a tri-color gradient of blue, resembling a natural flower. Like a pure flower, she is blissful in her innocence, making no sense of mother''s and father''s.....flirting.


    Or threats.


    Well someone has to keep that villain in check. Why not mother? Suck him dry mama!


    Increased cloth production would be nice, not just ribbons. Hmmmm.


    Can you ask for more mills? Looming and weaving mills? Can we somehow hook up spinning wheels to the mills? They all spin? That''s father''s specialty no?


    "Now now my little rosebud, papa is busy enough for now. Let''s not make him work so hard so runs away again. Mama is very tired getting him back~"


    As she coos and smiles at me, father''s writing speed increases even more. He sounds very busy yes. I guess it''s going to be another thing to add my mental schedule. The weave and fabric that makes up mother''s new dress aren''t so bad though. Even if it''s not anywhere near the current fashion, I can make use of it and create a luxury demand?


    Hmmm but how? Yes it''s so light and breezy but noblewomen don''t care about that. They like dark expensive colors and heavy things that scream expensive.


    "Ah does my Rosa''s little head ever stop? It would be nice if my girls could....share a little more evenly." mother murmurs as she undresses me like a doll, stopping every so often to right a giggling Lilyanne off where she had fallen.


    Wait why am I getting stripped in the first place?


    "Be good now Rosa, and don''t rip it like the others~ Mama worked hard on this!" she pulls out a tiny matching gradient flower dress, but in cherry blossom pink.


    Oh no. Oh no no no. You don''t put a redhead, not that I am a redhead damn it, in so much pink?! Nooooooo!


    But who am I? A weak little girl, stuck in a bumpy carriage. I''m powerless against mother''s swift hands. They prod and pry until I''m tied up in a horribly pink version of Lilyanne''s bonnet and bows. Even down to the frilly expensive socks?


    Hey where do elastics come from? How exactly are they made in this world? How are these socks staying put? Ai, there''s just so much work that goes into a product it makes me sigh.


    Well, at least I''m very cute if mother''s excessive squealing is anything to go by. Her sense of color is really messed up though. I''m so pink?


    "Cute cute cute kyaaa so cute!!! Oh darling look! Aren''t our lovelies just so cuuuuuute?! " mother exclaims, hearts and flowers almost visibly radiating out of her.


    For once father looks up, blankly gazes upon mother''s happy face and my not so happy one, then looks right back down to continue work.


    How terribly rude.


    As the carriage sharply turns and slows, mother coos and fusses with those last-minute touches. Sticking tiny alpine forget-me-nots in Lilyanne''s hair and bonnet while littering mine with something that looks like fat pink cherry blossoms.


    She''s so happy and busy over our petaled flower girl looks that when the carriage finally stops to unload in front of the palace-like hotel, she almost walks right out uncovered as she is.


    Oh, this foolishly bold woman.


    "Your cloak, my wife and lady." father comes to the rescue, suddenly appearing by her side to drape a dark glittering evening cape over mother''s shoulders. All at once covering up her lack of flat layers and sheer see-through sleeves while further highlighting her great beauty.


    The crystalline cape in combination with her dress gives her the impression of a cut gem, straight out the sharp sparkling rock. A real amethyst!


    "Oh dear! Silly me, thank you hubby~" mother chuckles, ribboning it off as father steps out first, like a mere servant, to escort the lady down.


    Of course at that time first, he plops Lilyanne and I out down and out. The carriage is so high that footmen outside have set stairs. While my balance is a little woozy straight out, I appreciate solid ground and the opportunity to stretch my legs.


    I can feel more than see all the eyes directed on us. After all, I am very childishly short.


    We''re not the only guests obviously. But a long clean carpet has been rolled out, leading straight to our lodging''s lobby. The hotel''s footmen and maids already standing in line to provide any necessary aid and unload the luggage. Bystanders, as well as other wealthy patrons, whisper and gossip, greedily drinking in the sight of my father escorting mother down the stairs like the enviously beautiful couple that they are.


    "Chip. Cheese. Don''t wander." father reminds before we can even take a step, unaware of how awful his nicknames are. That or he sadistically does not care.


    "Ok papa!" "Yes father." we respond at the same time.


    "Hold hands girls. You may walk ahead but stay close my loves." mother tuts us along the aisle.


    "Ok mama!" "Of course mother." might as well do the twin thing, god knows mother dressed us like this for that very reason.


    Surprisingly I''m very unused to these sort of stares. It''s not like we ever traveled out like that as a family in Rosalia''s youth. Let alone with mother and Lilyanne so healthy and in public. There were also all the bodyguards and security to secure the premise, maintaining our safety and privacy.


    Like this it feels like a famous celebrity couple and their kids at a premiere, stepping out on the red carpet.


    At the end of the carpet stands Alfonso, standing out even in this line pressed and perfect as ever with his straight posture and black jacket. Not so behind him, my travel-worn assistant Georgie looks like he''s about to faint, out of breath from something, but he tries. In his arms he carries a tray with two fine crystal glasses. One shorter and stout, straight brandy for father. While the other looked more like one of my mock bar cups if not for the delicately handcrafted glass, clearly much higher quality, hosting a lighter aperitif for mother.


    Ah how wonderful to have everything ready and prepared. This is the luxury I would like to be served with, but I am three and no one is handing me a cocktail any time soon.


    In public isn''t the place to act or demand like how I usually do. With Lilyanne''s hand clasped in mine, we toddle up slow and sweet. Me controlling her speed and keeping her from trouble while playing cute myself.


    As horrible as all this pink is, if I have Lilyanne''s face, then I''m cute enough to somehow pull it off. Two is better than one. Super cute twins unit!


    "I pray your journey was comfortably my Lord and Lady." Alfonso bows to my parents.


    "Acceptable. No time to dally Alfonso, we have a meeting to get to. I trust all arrangements for my girls are set. Maria my love, rest well and I shall return by moonlight."


    "Have a good time at work husband. Thank you as always Alfonso, make sure Frederick takes his meals and remind him when the clock ticks down."


    Alfonso, the all in one butler, secretary, steward, father babysitter, possibly shadily more, bows and promises before my mother. She then lifts up both Lilyanne and I to present like puppy dogs, once again up high under father''s nose.


    "Say bye bye to papa now. Remember to be very mad at him if he doesn''t come back again on time." mother giggles.


    Oh the public embarrassment.


    Have already fainted once before today, I blank facedly accept father''s forehead kisses on each of our heads. When Lilyanne smacks a wet one on his cheek in return, followed by a "bye bye papa Lily love you!" I give her a dead look. When father stares at me purposefully for 30 seconds too long despite his rushed schedule, I give him an even deader look.


    Have you no shame?


    He pulls out not one but three silver coins. Then evilly gives it all to Lillyanne to grasps and play with. I grimace, rightfully condemning this vileness.


    No matter what I may say or do for the sake of money, I sincerely hate him.


    "Papa noooo~ Papa don''t go, stay wit Rosa and mama ! Papa! Papa don''t you luv us anymore? Papa has to love Rosa lots!"


    Translation, I better be paid premium putting up with your grossness and this farce.


    Turn on the Lilyanne face to about 39%, adjust it a few degrees to what I''m personally more used to on my old face to make it more natural. Throw in just about 10% crystal kiddy tears to really sell it. Pout and whimper cutely while making useless reaching hand motions to cling on.


    Take that Lily, that''s how you put on an act.


    Unfortunately, the very rude man that is this body''s father pinches my cheeks and curses me again with kisses on the top of my head. Ack what is wrong with the OOC limits lately?! Also, my cheeks hurt!


    "Remember Rosalia. Never do that in front of anyone else, ever." he whispers in my ear, dangerously close to laughing with that devilish smile of his.


    I see it''s another shameful failure. It''s really discouraging to be shot down every time when I put in so much thought and effort. I''m so naturally cute too? Cut me some damn slack, will you? I''m still biologically your kid!


    "Awwwww." mother coos,putting us down to wave off father as he walks away.


    That cheapskate didn''t pay me!? I did all that, in public, for nothing?!


    Despite standing in a subservient line, I can see how Georgie fails to maintain professionalism, failing to hold in his own wide-eyed laughter over my failed performance. He''ll have to pay for witnessing that. He needs a new face mask to really pull tight that tired oily skin of his. I''ll make him pay.


    "No fair." Lilyanne pouts, saying out loud exactly what I was thinking. For some odd reason, she drops the coins, the tragically beautiful clatter ringing on the floor.


    "Hey, you don''t want that right? Right?! Great mine now~" I quickly act.


    Even though it''s a pitiful compensation, money is money, and placing it in my hidden purse immediately helps pick up my mood.


    There''s something wrong with my senses though. I can hear snickering and whispers from beyond our immediate area. Feel as if it''s a second instinct when eyes are on me or my little sister. Something Rosalia is definitely very well versed in.


    This time though, it feels very different.


    "Did you see that? The youngest and wealthiest Bichierri? I was a prospect of his when we were but children. So promising then. What a waste."


    "Ventrella now. You''d think she''d be fairer and prettier with all that money. But that''s the vulgar nouveau riche for you. What awful fake hair, either go blonde or don''t, it''s hideous."


    "What is she wearing under there? Rags? Just look how it drags."


    "She uses the children to keep him. How malicious. The innocent things, oh but who does she buy those little matching dresses from? They flutter like blooming fairies!"


    "When will she move out of the way and stop being a spectacle? My noble husband is arriving soon to take me to the opera. I''d hate for him to try and make polite talk just because he served under her honorable father in his youth. "


    "Oh forsaken spritis, what is she doing? Why is she coming this way?"


    Uh oh.


    Something that always scared Rosalia about her mother was the scarily accurate hearing that I suspect all mothers possess. Any murmur, any under the breath curses and then some, would be caught by her. Even if she didn''t take immediate action under the wave of her fan.


    She doesn''t need to, mother is a Ventrella. One convincing word from her and your family face and business may never be seen again.


    Mother downs the offered glass on Georgie''s tray as she walks, and thanks him kindly, smile far too bright and cheerful to be proper.


    "Allow me to lead you to the suites my Lady," my young assistant bows and hurries to keep up, handing over the tray to another pageboy.


    "Oh no need Georgie, it''s been a tiresome journey and I''m suddenly feeling peckish."


    "Er, um we''ll have a meal shortly prepared up in a private terrace-"


    "Oh no need, why there''s a perfectly good parlor right over here. I''m sure my girls are quite thirsty as well, right my loves? You don''t want to wait?"


    "Yay! Juice juice juice! Mama, Lily wants juicey."


    "Alright, calm down now. You must behave a lady, just like mama. Georgie dear, call ahead for a sweet juice for my Lily and something sour for Rosa, she always needs it after riding the carriage. We''ll have tea and refreshments right down here. Why it''s so lively!"


    Without my father to stop her, mother risks social suicide. With a clap, she has two of her personal maids on standby come forth to....take off her cloak.


    Can both of my parents stop overloading me with shame? I''d prefer not to faint again. It''s quite bad for a young child''s developing brain?


    Oh, I can''t watch.


    The tea parlor and half the very large hall go gapingly silent.


    "I''d like a table by the garden, prepare it with a view. Such lovely warm weather we''re having today. With such breathtaking flowers in bloom. Right girls?" mother dotingly asks, blind to her surroundings.


    Of course, the poor male servants don''t dare look for long, rather they rush off with her order at once. The young waiters handling the floor keeping their eyes and burning red faces down.


    The patrons and noblemen seem to have no qualms rudely staring though and my hands itch to go poke some eyes out.


    "My! Little slugger Maria is that you? Why I should rephrase that, you have little ones of yourself now! Beautiful! Such little bellas! Of course, with a mother like yourself!" an older white gentleman with a potbelly comes walking up from the entrance. Someone who most likely had muscles a few years back, now gone all jiggly.


    "Oh uncle Franco! What a surprise!" mother plays so dumb I don''t know what''s real or not anymore. She goes up to him for a warm familiar greeting, mock cheek kisses on both sides.


    "Why hasn''t the honored lady been seated yet!? It''s not just!"


    "Oh don''t make a scene you silly," hypocrite "We''ve just arrived, fresh and weary from the carriage."


    "Oh you don''t look it! To think you''re already a signora! My, I haven''t seen a lovely and energetic woman as yourself since I was a youngin worshiping at those foreign temples on the festival days. We always did joke your father and poncy Ga-ahem, prayed for a flower sprite to bless them with you."


    "Shhhh. You won''t believe it uncle Franco but I think it actually worked this time. After all these years, and it''s a boy."


    "You''re joking! You''re not joking?! When?!!"


    "Well I only figured it out recently myself but he''s already six years-"


    Tugging on mother''s skirt because I can no longer bear the loose train of this conversation, I interrupt with a, "Mama I''m tired."


    "Oh how could I be so terribly rude. Sit sit sit, I see my wife over there. Please sit while you wait. My apologies to the cherry pink bambina. Oh this one, oh heehee, no one can say you''re not your father''s child. Oh just look at her! You sneaky thing Maria, trying to hide such vibrant hair underneath there. Aye if that old madame could see Frederick''s baby now. Does she have his problem mouth too?"


    Excuse me as I curl up and cry underneath my mother''s skirts now.


    It''s time to curse out father for these messed up genetics. I swear Rosalia wasn''t originally like this. But then again she always stayed shaded and wore her riding helms diligently. Boo hoo, I blame grampa and father for everything.


    "Unfortunately yes, but papa does not help. Oh you know how he is. Now let''s not be rude any further, please introduce me to you, current wife!"


    At a table ideal for people watching across the lobby, some stiffly dressed woman with stiffer smiles bow play nice. Some are horrified as if their worse nightmares have come true, while others try not to gape anywhere from the jewels on mother''s person to down her not so modest bust. The clasping opal and diamond buttons has one chalk faced woman checking the rings on her fingers to see if they even compare.


    "Uncle Franco you dog, such a young wife! How do your grown children feel about her? There should be no problem with her right? Oh no need to be shy! May you be blessed with many fat healthy babies, oh hohoho!"


    A woman in too red lipstick instantly pales further behind her makeup, looking ill at the mention of her stepchildren and more. The others unsure how to comfort her, or if they even should.


    "Oh my, oh pardon-" mother quickly takes out a handkerchief, holding it to her nose. Her beautiful face scrunched up as if she has fearfully sensed something unpleasant.


    "What is it little Maria."


    "It''s just the awful smell. We''re sitting in a fine establishment and yet it smells as wretched as out untreated stable house, oh you remember how bad some of them got at the troops back then don''t you uncle Franco dear."


    "Ahahaha! Horrid!"


    "Some people are so insensitive. Do you know how so many women like to dye their hair blonde these days? Well merchants place so many things in there, you never know but, pardon my language, the wastes of many creatures are quite a common ingredient. My husband told me. Some poor ladies don''t realize but most simply don''t care. "


    "Ah women these days! Rubbing horse and cow shit into their hair try to get it to lighten?! Back then we had no choice but to hide our scents in mud and shit and here they pay to do it! Ahahaha I will just never understand it, no matter how old I get!


    A woman at the next table faints. From another table not too far away I hear the sound of someone spitting up, perhaps vomiting. The remaining ladies at this table sit still as corpses, make up already cracking.


    "How funny. What are all those little broken vase lines on your faces? Are they a new fashion trend? Oh do excuse me, it''s just soooooo hard to keep up?" mother asks bluntly, honestly being no better than father.


    Oh dear god, they''re perfect for each other.


    Oh god, Lilyanne is listening in to everything!!?! Lily no! You''re too young and impressionable!


    "Lily let''s play a game called cover your ears? Let''s play with big sister now. Ready set go." I feel like fainting along with that other woman. Mother''s silly voice still very much reaching my own poor ears.


    "I wish my darling husband would allow me to try on such...lovely cosmetics. You''re all so beautifully pale painted like that, I''m sure your husbands give you all plenty of rest. Oh boo hoo, that handsome tyrant of mine is just sooooo tiring when he loves me this much. Oh is our table finally ready? Well it was wonderful seeing you again uncle Franco, mua mua! Ladies!"


    "Please, your terrifying father would never forgive me if I didn''t at least escort you and your lovely family here."


    "Oh ho ho you silly old goose, you were never afraid of papa. You always teased him too much!"


    "A goose...yes indeed... I never said it was Ronald I''m scared of. Come now, this service has been slow enough for a lady! Up up, let me see you to your table and cover your tab. Say no more, it''s my honor to do so. Remember to put in a good word for me if anyone tries turning me into poultry again. " the jolly old man offers his arm to mother. Her snapping for us to follow along like good little ducklings.


    While I try to keep very close to the safety of my mother''s skirt, I catch more than one lady slapping her male companion across the face in indignation when their eyes stray, following after my mother''s figure.


    Well, at least I didn''t faint.


    So can we eat yet? I want lemonade!


    --------------------------------------


    ----------------


    --------


    ...


    ...Bonus that you really don''t need to read. Do not proceed in case of J.J. and grossness allergies.


    A Shameful modern memory/dream Rosa refuses to remember (but absolutely does) even as she faints into dreamland earlier. Ft. Rosa before UT (aka Meng)


    ...


    --------


    ------------------


    ---------------------------------------


    "J.J., I''m begging you. Please. Please go wash that off." Meng was crying, she was so close to crying, again. Face shamefully hot behind her hands as she hid herself on the cafe table''s wooden surface.


    It''s been a long last two hours.


    "I don''t know, I''m sort of feeling this look." her companion admired himself on the camera on his smartphone. He looked back and forth at different sides of his profile, happy at any view he saw.


    Not his usual color but he thought he looked quite good in it. More importantly, it made him feel ridiculously good. The fevered memory still tingling fireworks on his skin.


    "I''m so so sorry. Please. Please just wipe that off." Meng''s muffled voice whimpered, still not daring to even look up.


    Not even when a passing waiter came by with their orders. The smell of coffee and sweets clinking down as the plates were set.


    Said waiter was presumably male, a pervert. Because not only did he obscenely whistle, he even gave a loud high five to Jung-Joon at the table.


    Meng was just going to die on this table ok?


    The extra bad, highly rated horror movie killed her and now this was really just obliterating her off the face of this good earth. She always suspected that Jung-Joon Park was going to kill her one day. Today was just it. Good bye.


    "So, do you want brick toast before or after you die? Because the ice cream is going to melt and you''re going to get mad later if I eat it all." he already started without her.


    She darted her hand out, catching his outstretched wrist in a stubborn grip.


    "...So you want to hold hands?" he adjusted that hold.


    "Fuck your shit Jung-Joon." the young woman seethed, glaring at that hand. It was a good thing she didn''t have laser vision or any such powers otherwise there would a hole from how hard staring, absolutely fuming.


    But she still didn''t dare look up, let alone make any eye contact.


    "Are you imitating a ghost?" he teased, watching as her dark hair and angry eyes create a similar sort of appearance.


    No matter, his girl was still loveably cute and adorable in his eyes. Even if she''s a little scary sometimes, or a lot of the times. It was especially when she was so embarrassed her ears burned red hot, a good sign. Maybe she''ll finally be conscious of her feelings towards him. Maybe she''ll finally wake up to his flirting attempts number....ah fuck it.


    Switching spoons to his other hand J.J. continued eating. Even if it failed he had a more than a nice date and payout today. Saw a movie, eat ice cream brick toast while holding Meng''s hand, this really wasn''t so bad.


    "Wash. It. Off!" she twisted at his finger, bending it downwards.


    "Ack, Meng, but you won''t even look at me."


    "How the hell am I suppose to look when your face is covered in that shit!?"


    If she just concentrated on maybe breaking his fingers, this might just work. Make him suffer, force him to give up, kick him to the boy''s bathroom and then eat up the rest of the dessert while he''s gone. Great. Problems solved.


    "Hey Meng, check my story, I just tagged you."


    "Huh? You did what?"


    Letting go she quickly rummaged for her phone and purse, only to remember J.J. was still holding on to it for safety while she was busy dying in shame. Still dying really.


    "Hand over my phone you dork." she held out her hand open palmed.


    "Open your mouth first, I made a loaded spoon for you and it''s going to fall. "


    "....Fine."


    Grimacing, Meng closed her eyes to avoid seeing anything and accepted the loaded bite. Chocolate syrup, strawberry slice, buttery sweet toast, whipped cream, crispies, and rich matcha ice cream all in one bite. It chilled the roof of her mouth and made her squeal a bit in sweetness.


    From behind the cafe counter, that same waiter wolf-whistled again and Meng made a mental note to leave a scathing review later.


    As she chewed, J.J. finally slid her phone over. Silently sipping his steaming coffee as he watched the entertaining show that was her facial expression. From happily pleased, to mildly displeased, grumpy but with food in her mouth, to finally blushed red as fuck.


    It never got old.


    That was exactly what happened when Meng opened up her social media, tapping into a familiar boy''s profile and watched in horror as his story popped up.


    She practically threw her phone.


    It was just a photo, a selfie really.


    Jung-Joon being ridiculously self-absorbed as he snapped his face at a gross but still flattering angle. Eyes dark and grin bright but hatefully cocky. A single thumb rubbing at his unnaturally smeared pinkish-coral lips. It was so posed it wasn''t funny or sexy in any capacity Meng sneered.


    The caption simply read "Scary movie night w/ wifey. Guess how that ended?"


    No filters.


    So why the fuck was his face covered in lipstick kiss marks?!?!!


    "Delete it!!!"


    She made the mistake of looking up to attack though. The same embarrassingly unfiltered face was looking right back at her in real life, enjoying what he, and literally anyone else, would call date night. Absolutely covered in her lipstick, the marks impossible for him to make on his own.


    He looked absolutely ravished and went around showing it off.


    Meng went back to hiding, choosing to scream only in her head, possibly muffled into her arms.


    "Delete your whole fucking existence! Go wash that off already!"


    "Mengmeng. The ice cream really is melting."


    "Your face is melting!"


    "Honestly? Yeah, it really was. You really went wild on me back there."


    She screams while he laughs, it was a very unfair exchange. This whole night was unfair and it started with that stupid movie.


    Meng should have never agreed when Jung-Joon Park of all people, pulled out two already paid for tickets to that new 4D theatre. She should have been suspicious when he said it was just them with no other witnesses. She looked up the movie beforehand and read every spoiler on the net.


    But she didn''t, and it turned out to be the mistake of her night. Maybe the rest of the month. She was going to be seeing a lot of hyperrealistic horror movie corpses in her nightmares for awhile.


    If it was any plain scary movie, she was honestly fine having a decent tolerance for horror and even more experience in the time she''s known this boy and his family. But this?


    This wasn''t some summer thrill blockbuster. This was legitimate horror from across international waters. People probably gave up their souls and their unborn children''s souls to make this shit. The probably raided graves and morgues and raised even more unholy forces to act in front of the haunted camera to spread its evil reach to poor innocent moviegoers.


    "It wasn''t so bad?"


    "Speak for yourself! No wait don''t! You''re fucked up!"


    Normally as much as she cried and complained, she could sit through an hour or two of a movie. This, however, was all too much. The seats did not help. They rocked and moved the air, mist, and other special effects all helped to make the theatre as chillingly thematic as possible.


    Nothing helped. Not snacks. Not laughing it off. Not even crawling into Jung-Joon''s lap and hiding half her body under his clothes. This movie was just too long and scary!!!


    She was so god damn terrified, getting jumped scared and soul shattered, screaming bloody hell over and over again. If she saw anymore she wasn''t sleeping for the rest of the year. Send her to the psych ward or something.


    But the problem was that she was so scared that her legs didn''t work right. If she wasn''t being hidden safely in Jung-Joon''s hold, she might have already passed out foaming at the mouth. The fucking ghosts would have free reign over her unconscious body.


    By 3/4th of the extra-long film, Meng was reduced to a begging crying mess.


    "Please please please let''s go, please please please?!" she shivered in his arms, giving up her seat entirely to seek protection. She was weakly mewing and whimpering, heart already hurting from beating so much and just so desperate.


    Unknown to Meng, especially in her fear, Jung-Joon was having a much better time than expected. Money well spent. 10/10. Would do it again.


    "I don''t know, it''s almost over. I really want to see how it ends."


    "Pleeease Jung-Joon?! Please. I''d say I''d pay you back triple, what else do you want?! Please! anything. Just get me out of here!" she cried silently in the theatre, face gleaming wet with tears.


    "Anything? I don''t know Mengy. You usually cheap out right after~"


    "I won''t! Anything, just get me out of here please, please. I can''t. I''m gonna have an induced heart attack and die. Then get possessed and monsters will torture me every day in their haunted funhouse and-" she sniffed, choking on her own scared sobs.


    He taps at his cheek.


    "Prove it. Prove to me you''re serious."


    "....you want me to hit you? Because I can do that!"


    "I''ll throw you off if you do."


    "Noooo, don''t! I''ll be good!"


    He tapped again, leaning down to where she hid her face. Somehow an insane part of her knew exactly what he was asking for in the dark, without a single word. It was only due to the dire circumstances, her life at stake, that she listened to it.


    She kissed him on the cheek.


    Electricity and warmth burned through from that small point of contact, humming pleasantly in his brain and under his skin. It was rare though not impossible to get Meng to initiate any of such affection first. The shock if it feeling fresh and new every time with his insanely stubborn girlfriend. If he were any less of a persistent guy, he''d get fucking nothing.


    But damn was it worth.


    He tapped the other side of his face, and Meng near clawed his eyes out at the next jump scare on screen.


    "Why?!"


    "My face will be uneven if you only do one side," he said, perfectly serious.


    "God damn it!" a mile a minute wasn''t anywhere close to the terror that Meng was feeling. She was hypersensitive, fight, or flight. That was definitely what was making her heartbeat so dangerously fast, prompting her to act crazily.


    This time she pulled him down, pressing hard against the other side of his face. Fire and chaos burned through Jung-Joon and he completely forgot the last hour of this movie, that was fine. More than fine.


    "Can we go now? Please?!" she whispered against his skin.


    He was going to agree, knowing it was never wise to push too far with this hot-tempered girl. His brain just needed a moment. Not one but two kisses self-initiated kisses from Meng, this last one lingeringly long.


    Money very well spent. He''ll look up other horror attractions later. Right now he was enjoying this too much to think.


    The blank moment though was apparently too long for Meng''s anxiety and fear. The surround sound still playing outside, shadows and spirits on-screen giving too much tension before the next chase, the next victim.


    She kissed his cheek again, then again and again continuously after that. Short sweet full pecks, butterfly kisses almost if they weren''t so urgent and messy. She changed over to the other side again just in case he would complain about some bullshit like it being uneven. Each fearful press caused a hammering against her chest, and she prayed he would hurry up and just accept it so they could go?!


    How was she supposed to know that J.J.exe completely crashed and stopped operating?


    Jung-Joon felt it was his duty to stay and see this through. As if he wasn''t melting in his seat, face on molten fire. Just gratefully accept all that Meng was suddenly willing to give. Completely sober too? Besides just look where staying still got him?!


    It was dark she would later argue. She was scared and desperate to get out of there, what is aiming? Somehow lipstick unevenly got all over his face, even across smirking lips that maybe pressed back in his shock.


    Maybe she missed a bit, whoopee doo. Maybe it got smeared?


    Either way, Meng was very sorry.


    Even when a rude moviegoer in one of the back rows yelled at them to get a room, she didn''t know it was that bad. Even when J.J. had laughingly carried her out of the still playing theatre, high off adrenaline, endorphins and whatever else shitty movies caused, she still didn''t know or care.


    But once she calmed down and the artificial lights showed what the fuck she had just done, did Meng near faint in shame. Maybe she did because she wasn''t sure how they got from the movies to a cafe?


    Now here she was crying into the table, occasionally opening up for bites of brick toast. But that''s it!


    She hasn''t forgiven anyone at all. Not Jung-Joon, not the whistling waiter, not the movie directors, not even herself.


    Also, Jung-Joon still had lipstick, all the lipstick, on his damn face.


    Meng was throwing it away after tonight. She was converting to matte and lip tint only. Who cares if it was her color or an expensive brand, it wasn''t worth the shame J.J. seemed intent on milking.


    "Please wash it off before you go home tonight. I''ll die if anyone in your house gets the wrong impression."


    "They didn''t. We made out. It was sweet."


    She threw a spoon at him. The napkin holder was screwed down so that was out but the plate was an option.


    "Please don''t throw the plates. I don''t think the staff is that cool with me to get away with it. "


    "Clean your face before I force you through a carwash!"


    "So Jung-Soo being mean and wants to know how drunk you were, which you weren''t so fuck him. Sunny is asking for a wedding date so she can win the betting pool. My mom says hi,... and that you''re coming over at 6 tomorrow to help make kimchi."


    "Ah man, it''s kimchi day again? Fine but I want cucumber banchan and, hey wait- "


    They say after enough time and exposure, you simply get used to something. Thus Meng felt she was strong enough to handle the few seconds it took to aim and splash water into Jung-Joon''s face.


    Or at least try to.


    "Get back here, I have to wipe that off!" she lunged at him with a handful of napkins. It was just ordinary creme lipstick, she''ll get it off in no time if he would just sit still.


    Instead of dodging this time, the taller youth caught her in his arms.


    "I have some ideas. Ones that do not involve running around, breaking things and getting kicked out. Sorry, we should only do that at hyung''s place."


    To that, Meng agreed, though still trying to wipe off any evidence of her moment of insanity. Gross violence and property destruction were for the old bar, where the only one who really suffered was the bossman.


    "One, I won''t go home tonight so you won''t be embarrassed about anyone seeing me."


    "Bad plan. What the hell are you going to do if not getting the fuck home to sleep?"


    "Staying over with you. Because you''re going to be too scared to sleep alone tonight."


    She smacked him lightly in rejection, strike one.


    "Two. My favorite plan." he pitches again, readjusting the girl in his lap.


    "I hate it already. Get it over with."


    "I wipe it all off, clear up my post, and explain everything to everyone who asks anything ever."


    "Oh my fucking god, I actually like it but that''s what you''re supposed to do in the first place!"


    "IF. You didn''t let me finish. If, you manage to kiss all the spots you left before. Every spot, I''ll wipe off that mark. So?" he leaned in as if expecting praise, or maybe for the plan to start right at that very moment.


    "....."


    She hit him repeatedly for that. Every mark right? Fine, Meng decided. She''ll slap every corner of his face silly.


    "Okay. Okay, I''ll take that as a no, for now." he blocked, trying to calm her down with a sip of her drink. Holding the chilled cup and straw up in mercy plea.


    "What did you order me? I wasn''t even like, awake for that part."


    "Lemon yakult tea? You get nauseous after these things so something sweet and sour?"


    "Acceptable."


    For an older girl, even one that constantly rubbed it in, she sure did look childish sipping boba tea on his lap.


    Well that was another cute part of her, so J.J. doesn''t mind. It''s also his own damn fault for liking her in the first place.


    "Any other plans before I bash your face in through the nearest car wash?" she looked up at him cutely, wide brown eyes sparkling with flecks of gold, a galaxy he couldn''t look away from. She sounded very serious about her statement though.


    She''d do it. He knew it, as did anyone who knew them. It was better to live another day than to really make Meng mad.


    "...I take you downtown to the makeup shop and buy you another lip thing? You can use me as a swatch again?" he sweated, just a bit.


    "Very acceptable, you''re learning! There''s makeup remover there. Let''s go!" she happily patted at his cheek, feeling just a bit bad for earlier.


    They had different levels and tolerance for a lot of things. Horror movies for one. But Jung-Joon came from a big family, even if it was an Asian one like her''s. Displays and shows of affection were just different for him, Meng reasoned out after calming down.


    So she allowed herself to give out a familiar, and very platonic, two soft pecks in thanks, one on each side of his face.


    J.J. still melted. Ready to carry this girl on foot, all the way downtown, if that''s what she wanted. Get her whatever shade of pinks or plums that she likes to smear on her lovely pretty lips. He''s so gone.


    "I also want another lemon tea. Screaming is thirsty work."


    Even that.


    --------


    Please go to


    to read the latest chapters for free

 121 Uniforms are just cute

    ''God created us, us, man and woman. You are my North, my South, my East and West, the sun of my morning and the night to my day!"


    ''But your honor! I''m but a poor fallen noble, turned maid, to the nunnery now and you the duke, brother to the future king! Ahhhh nooooooo~ My vows~Oh! Oh my Lord~''


    ''Say yes, say you''re mine. Marry me. For I am your only god as you are mine, call but my name upon your sweet song of-"


    ''Ahhh~''


    "What. The. Fuck?! What are you watching now?"


    At the sudden voice, Jung-Hyuk, or bossman as his staff and crew tended to call him, jumped and screamed out of his seat.


    There was no procedure for dropping and rolling upon getting caught slacking at work though. Meng simply raised an eyebrow and nibbled on her boss''s tea snacks, turning up the volume on whatever he was watching in his office. Not just that, she turned on the comcast, to put it all over the big screens across parts of the bar.


    From outside, there were a few disgruntled groans from the daytime employees mid watching something else as they did prep work for the day.


    "Cool we don''t need subtitles for this."


    Meng poured a cup of tea for herself, taking no qualms with helping herself.


    "Oh booo it''s nothing juicy! Unless you count them bedroom eyes. It''s just not one of your Korean romance dramas, but just as bad. So is she a nun or a maid? Both? Why are they dressed like that but speaking in bad British accents?" she commented at the screen.


    "Don''t trash my movies! The proposal scene, it''s ruined, you ruined it! What the hell are you doing in here?!! Give that back!" the older man screeched from the floor.


    Meng didn''t even bother looking down, lazily munching on another sweet cookie.


    "Ah. I''m helping you lose weight. Cookies and madeleines are not on your calorie diet plan bossman. Jung-Soo says to tell you the new pizza oven is here and needs your signature. Works great. So is the shipment of that fancy imported tequila. "


    "That doesn''t give you the right? You greedy little goblin thing - my snacks! My family. My life! Give it back." a grown adult man cried, seemingly helpless.


    "Shut up. I don''t get paid enough for the all the work I do, you''re practically ripping me off! I''m worth at least 3 internal employees and a personal secretary. Where else are you going to find a productive genius like me! Now get out there and sign shit. I''ll tell your mom you snuck out baked goods, don''t test me." she ranted as she made the threat.


    Bossman didn''t stand a chance.


    "Stop cussing me out in your head and get out. What kind of boss watches shitty period dramas while everyone else is working? Huh?! Want me to dig for your porn too?!"


    "Aigoo, I''m going! " he ran off, practically chased out.


    Another lemon sweet madeleine disappeared into Meng''s mouth, she was a growing teenager after all. Leaning back in the office chair as if she belonged there, she clicked on the computer screen, opening up emails and doing most of the internal logistic work as the drama played on. Other than the really bad timing she walked in, it didn''t seem that bad?


    Okay, that''s a lie, but in the it was so bad it was actually good kind of way.


    The costumes were so historically inaccurate but oh so pretty. Bossman watched and played a lot of this kind of shit. From KDramas to otome games, maybe she''ll bother and ask him one day if he happens to know the title of that one thing.


    The game or show she doesn''t remember. Bad End.


    Yet it still bothers her in the back of her mind. A puzzle she couldn''t quite figure out. It wasn''t this fake Britsh of French stuff she could recall, maybe something Romeo and Juliet themed? Kinda. It was tragic? At least for that Rosalia or whatever girl. With magic and fantasy stuff.


    Anyways exam season was just over so she''s going to have some decent stress relief hate watching this. Noble ladies and gentlemen in their fancy clothes and fancy tragic love games, hahaha how hilarious.


    Oh ho ho ho, how scandalous.


    The office door originally wasn''t closed, there was no noise when a slim and neat young man, walked through, exuding an aloof and slightly deadly aura with each step of his long legs. Ebony black hair, skin as white and flawless as freshly fallen snow, an appearance far more white and delicate than the sharp character beneath.


    "...I don''t care what crap my brother watches but why the hell did you have to put it on for everyone? I can feel my IQ dropping." the middle brother walked in with a dark face, slamming the desk.


    "Jung-Soo! Oh my! Aiya, how are you so terribly handsome even when angry? I love your shoes! Your horrible brother slacking off on his own business to-"


    "Save it your bullshit."


    Well, she tried.


    Ordering around bossman was as easy as breathing. The older but weaker man practically asking to be abused- er, organized and helped. To even think about going against Jung-Soo however, was asking for to be toyed with to death.


    Meng admits that the first time she really laid eyes on the older boy, she thought he was an anime character came to life. That sleek fashionable frame, cool aura, even a well placed beauty mark, creating a single black teardrop under those foxy eyes. All topped off perfectly with a pair of shiny glasses, yes he made the ideal Megane character.


    Too bad his personality sucked.


    The eldest brother was too easy to bully and honestly quite hopeless. The middle brother was a soul sucking black bellied abusive class president type. Good luck to whichever fool falls for that.


    Only cute little J.J. could redeem them in this family.


    It''s important to steer his growth in the right way, away from his nasty brothers. Otherwise, all his natural cuteness will be wasted! Such a good and innocent boy, such a rarity in these times. It would be an unbearable sin if he grew crooked and uncute under these terrible natural influences in his life.


    "...You know I can hear you, right? For someone who claims to be so smart, that was some of the stupidest things I''ve ever heard. Including this shitty drama."


    "Oh my. Oppa~ Even your ears are so handsome~ Did you get new glasses? No? That''s how smart and handsome you make everything look. Look I finished the emails, order sheets and set up the next event page! All done! I''ll just go now..." she hurridly stuffed the rest of the sweets into her mouth and got halfway out the door.


    "If you''re done with work and exams, then I have something for you to do." he halted her escape.


    Damn it. So close.


    Truth be told, she just wanted to hurry up with all the tasks so she could go relax. Exams were rough for any student, but Meng felt it was even more difficult for her. Sure it was her fault for pushing forward with full course college units at her age, but anything to grow up and be truly independent a little faster. It''s still a headache though.


    That''s why messing with bossman was so fun! He needs someone to kick his butt beside his family once in a while anyway.


    But there was no running from Jung-Soo if he gave an order. Somehow he was even scarier than his mother, and Meng''s been chased and beaten by that woman multiple times already. Once with a slipper, thrice with a baguette, that time with the kimchi....


    Jung-Soo sighed, already guessing what the teen in front of him was thinking from the suspicious grimaces on her face.


    "You have 10 minutes to clean up, get yourself as decent as possible," he said, crossing his arms.


    "Why?"


    Meng looked down on herself. She thinks she''s already as cute as she possibly could be as a working student. A slightly dirty apron, unwashed hair, and dark eye circles were part of the look. She''s doing amazingly well for running on ....5? Five hours of sleep! ....In the last 2 days.


    Man, she loved coffee.


    "Because I hate myself but a deal''s a deal....and stop defending that little brat! That''s what time Eun-Jung will get here to pick you up and.....fuck I''ll text her to bring something for you....just go....wash up. And stop watching this shit show. "


    So rude.


    She gets practically thrown into the upstairs shower, the door slamming on her as Jung-Soo stomps away. She has no idea what''s going on but apparently she''s on a countdown to get clean. Hot water did sound good?


    Meng didn''t even get to turn off that water before the bathroom door slams open again.


    "Where is she?! There''s no time and oh, oh there you are Mengmeng. Here quickly. "


    "Er...what?"


    The eldest Park sister had her quickly manhandled into a towel and speed dressed like she was a small child. Which given their age difference of well over a decade, she probably saw the younger as such. Eun-Jung normally had the kindest face and most mild-mannered disposition. Right now though she had some very fast hands.


    "There''s no time to dry your hair. So let''s go for the just off the beach look, with a little spray. Pull it up in a bun so it will be curly later. You''re so young, so you don''t need much makeup but let''s bronze those cheeks just a bit. Stay still and close your eyes."


    "...Unnie please don''t stab my eyes out." Meng pleaded in her seat after getting a pale little summer dress over her head. Eyeshadow brushes out to tickle her face threateningly.


    "It''s fine. Light brown and peach suits you more at this age, highlights at the tear line. We''re going with that ''I woke up like this and you didn''t''. A little more mature, but naturally."


    "Okay... But why?"


    "Special request~ We watched too much of Jung-hyuk''s drama''s last night!"


    The older woman was a legitimate traditional beauty, even as she stood there threatening Meng with some sharp eyeliner. A tranquil face with even delicate features, a graceful neck, black pearls with long monolid eyes, and long silky black hair that Meng honestly felt more than a little jealous of. Her own head was a natural sun damaged brown to the point it looked dyed, especially at the ends. Maybe she should cut it? That would be more convenient and save money?


    But when the older woman smiled like that, it looked quite similar to J.J.''s sweet innocent smile. Something Meng admittedly was quite weak to. So Meng stayed put and let her do as she pleased. At least till there was nothing else poking at her eyes.


    "The game is starting in 10, you''re already going to be late."Jung-Soo burst in to usher them down and out the door, Meng barely getting her sneakers on.


    He put a take out cup of milky coffee in Meng''s hands and closed the car door. His elder sister already starting the engine.


    Maybe she didn''t get enough sleep after all? That all felt like it happened in a blink?


    "Ummm..."


    "How were your exams? Hard? Of course, it is, you''re doing so much already. Drink your coffee and have a little nap Mengmeng. " the older girl smiled amicably as she drove past the speed limit. Flooring it on yellow lights and cutting corners on red.


    Meng felt it was safer to just turn off her brain and nod along. Have some coffee, close her eyes, ignore any potential accidents waiting to happen. What did she know? She didn''t even have her learner''s permit yet.


    If Eun-Jung was taking her to an organ trafficker well then she was dead anyway.


    From hard-learned experience and too much time on the internet, she knew that 15 minutes was ideal. 15 minutes for caffeine to take effect in the body. 15 minutes to nap without getting groggy. So that''s exactly what she does. Chug down the too bitter drink and knock out.


    Either the internet lied or she overslept past the time, because when she was so mentally out of it when she was shaken awake. The car parked in what looked to be a school parking lot.


    "Up up Mengmeng! We''re fashionably late. Now hold still, you need a little lip gloss. I have your backpack right here for that casual look. Oh, you can let your hair down now. Hmmm, wait, how about with a headband too? Just let me check the glove compartment. Perfect!"


    "Is this...J.J.''s school?"


    "Right! Now let''s go, I''m sure we can still manage to get some decent seats."


    As she stumbles out the car, trying not to rub the sleep from her lightly drawn eyes, Meng couldn''t help but coo and marvel. It was a Junior high school, full of prepubescent children.


    Oh just look at all these young little kids in the spring of their youth! So messy and awkward but so cute.


    Meng wasn''t a very tall girl herself, but against these kids, she could still mostly stand high. Besides, at this age they were just so small and adorably cringe!


    The girls walked over to the green field, towards where all the noise and people were. There an extremely rowdy but almost professional game was going on. A black and white ball flying across the grass, two teams of schoolboys viciously fighting after it.


    Before she even got to the bleachers she could see a familiar little head of black hair even in the midst of all those sweaty boys of various heights and stages of growth. Her eyes easily focused on a shorter child that seemed to fly across the green and white field. A too-large jersey hanging off his frame, reading ''Park'' on the back, number 10 pinned to his top. He shouted out in such serious concentration at his little teammates in play, giving their all in chasing after the ball.


    "Kyaaaaa~ Awwww so cute! Jung-Joon is so cute in his little uniform! They''re all so....Why is he just so cute?! I totally forgot about his game today. " Meng couldn''t stop the uncharacteristic squealing that escaped her mouth.


    She was tired ok? Her defenses against all this cuteness were at an all-time 0.


    Luckily it was quickly drowned out in the cheers and banter all around them. Parents and classmates showing their support to the corresponding teams, and their not so little players.


    Looking at all those kids trying so hard and even more of them cheering in the stands and sidelines made Meng feel so old. But at the same time, their energy was infectious.


    She didn''t have this sort of experience when she was this age. It was all so novel. Like something out of a show or movie. But more than that....she couldn''t help but breathe out in wonder. At how healthy all these kids were, running around like that.


    These kids were older here, but it was still so different than the children''s grounds at the hospital. So very different.


    It was something her little brother could never be a part of. Even if he wanted to.


    Even in the middle of a cheerful crowd, Meng felt off. Even more lonely maybe. Grey in a world of color. She felt the lingering weight of guilt, the distance of being removed from everything.


    Like she obviously didn''t belong.


    Because she didn''t. All these happy families, and happy kids running around, she doesn''t know this normality. Never had it herself, maybe never will.


    "Aha! Here!" Eun-Jung finally stopped, settling on a spot to pull out the camera, ready to record everything.


    Meng looked over to the woman with mixed feelings. This part, she could see and relate to. If it was for Heng-Fei, who now insisted on being called Henry for whatever reason, Meng could see her acting just as silly and doting. Driving halfway across town, video camera in tow.


    It came with the territory of being an embarrassing big sister, huh?


    She smiles softly in thought and goes back to watching the game, unaware of any older teenagers nudging each other, pointing her out in their own games off the field.


    It may have been a Jr. high game but plenty of older siblings and relatives attended. The atmosphere lively as it was oddly intimate in the crowded space. People moved and bustled across the stands all the time.


    So Meng definitely didn''t notice for quite a long while when a thick teen in letterman jacket purposefully took a seat next to her on the stands.


    "Hey."


    She was way too busy cooing over how serious these kids were running around in their cleats and jerseys. Especially their little Jung-Joon, gathering cheers and fangirls of his own. He was especially eye-catching in just how plain adorable he was.


    There was even a time where he caught sight of them up in the stands, happily waving from down from below before getting back into play.


    "Hey!" the gruff voice startled her, being shouted right into her ear.


    That hurt, but it got her attention finally, just like the guy wanted.


    "Yo. Haven''t seen your pretty face around before. Which one you here for?"


    Meng would guess him to be about 17 or so, a bit older than her but younger than most her classmates, judging from the buzz of chin acne and the school jacket. This rude boy was over twice her size and she instinctively inched away.


    "Number 10." she looked away, answering curtly and going back to the game. Even the referee was more interesting than whatever this guy was playing at.


    "Oh nice. Your bro? Not bad for an Asian kid. That''s my bro down there with the leg work on strike. He''s joining football once he gets to high school. I mean, it''s a tougher sport but eh I think he''ll be able to handle it. Grow some." the jerk flexed as he stretched. His thick legs widening out to claim more space, in something he probably thought looked as impressive as it was imposing.


    Meng didn''t bother acknowledging. Never feed the trolls, not even a scrap. Besides, nothing about her said she was in the mood to be talking up to strangers, especially right now.


    "You uh, feeling cold in that dress there?" the guy cocked his eyebrow, sight going from bare thighs at the edge of her dress to the pale peeks of her shoulders.


    "No." Even without seeing it, Meng could feel goosebumps of tired disgust rise up. Here we go again.


    "I could let you borrow my jacket? For the night."


    "No. Not interested. "


    "It''s a pretty sweet jacket. Varsity. Because you know, I''m on varsity. In football. Girls always be asking to try it on. Would pretty big on you, you know, that nothing else on kinda thing. I bet you''d change your mind if-"


    "No. Do I know you? No."


    The smart thing to do would be to get up and walk away, tell switch sides with Eun-Jung. That''s what common sense says to do, avoid the guy. But the Meng senses say sock him and break his hand if that thing dares try touching her.


    "Aww don''t be like that babe. You just look like you might be cold." said paw really does reach out for her exposed shoulder and Meng was just waiting for the first contact to throw this creep over the bleachers.


    Doesn''t happen though. Not when ball meets face.


    The game ball to be precise. Groans and screams sounding out as it goes far out of bounds and into the stands. Somehow it didn''t lose much momentum from the field at all, slamming the varsity boy in the head, distorting his face hard enough to knock him down in his seat.


    It happens so fast Meng doesn''t even have time to scream or laugh.


    She does right after though because god if that wasn''t comedic timing she doesn''t know what was. She takes the moment of confusion to sneak a few wild kicks at the guy while he was down, fake screaming to cover up her gross laughing.


    Thank you universe, she thought with a sick sense of humor.


    Down on the field though, a time out was immediately called. The kids crowding around the players fallen on the ground, the whistle blowing out more than once to force them to make space. Mentally Meng thanked them for their amazing aim, unintentional or not.


    That was until she saw just who was one of the kids on the ground.


    "J.J.!?!" she stood up, trying to get a better view if not get the hell down there herself.


    What the hell? Was he alright?! Did another kid kick or slide into him?!


    The sweet boy had grown on her over these couple of years, so much so she worried over him, if that wasn''t too bold to say. The panic she''s sure was similar to what she would feel if her own brother met any accidental injuries.


    Surprisingly J.J.''s actual sister found and pulled her back down. A calm reassuring smile on her face.


    "...He''ll be fine." Eun-Jung tapped at her camera, showing not a single care.


    Very reassuring yes.


    "What happened?" Meng worried, watching as a coach and a standby medic inspected the downed boy.


    Eun-Jun looked down at her camera, then into the crowed right where Meng was just sitting. Ball still rolling till someone threw it down. The bloody nosed casualty getting medical treatment down.


    She really didn''t know what to say to make it more obvious.


    "I''m just so glad the ball didn''t hit you. It was so close. What are the chances?" she smiled a little too cheerfully.


    "Holy shit is he really going back on the field right away?! They just gonna slap a bandage on him and call it a day? They''re not even going to penalty anyone?!"


    Eun-Jung kept silent. It''s alright she decided, this naive side of Meng was surprisingly cute as well. So young and cute, Eun-Jung tilted her head in thought and satisfaction. Her youngest brother had quite the fight later if he was really serious but it was fine. Rather let''s just enjoy this sweet time right now.


    "Fighting J.J.!" Eun-Jung cheered, not just for the game. Righting back up the camera to record absolutely everything for future prosperity. Besides, it was more fun than watching her mother and brother''s shows.


    On the ground, matching black eyes looked up to the stands. Her 13-year-old brother smiled like springtime come to life, still full of childish youth. He stared forebodingly a little too long though, specifically making eye contact with his sister.


    "Mengmeng, keep close to me~ It''s soooo crowded! What if another accident happens?" Eun-Jung laughed, pulled the much shorter teen girl right under her arm.


    "Wait wait wait what about the other team, why aren''t they getting any penalties?! That fall wasn''t for nothing?!"


    "Ah so cute."


    The rest of the game finished with a hitch after that. A full 90 minutes with resting interval. To many people, sports fans and parents reliving their youths perhaps, it felt a lot longer and more dramatic.


    To Meng, she was just sleepy, but doing her best to show support for the kids. It was their last game of the season, no their school careers! It was J.J.''s and his fellow classmates last year before moving on to high school!


    Youth was just so fleeting. Meng would keep awake, fueled by coffee, loud crowds, that and those kiddy soccer uniforms were just that cute.


    It wasn''t all that big of a deal for her, but she understood how important this was for a lot of people. So when the final minute counted down and the home team managed to defend their two-point lead, it was to great fanfare. Kids were crying on the field, their parents crying harder. Someone or three was probably having a dramatic flashback. It was basically a teen sports movie ending going on here in this Jr. High.


    Ah youth, Meng clapped along, too tired to really be bustling and cheering along with this wild crowd of students and enthusiastic family members.


    She had no idea, that her dispirited laziness only made her stand out looking all the more elegant and delicate, something no Jr. high girl could replicate. Eun-Jung''s rushed but hard work didn''t go a bit to waste.


    Soft slightly curled beach waves stayed messily perfect, framing an even softer pretty girl, eyes emotionally red and teary. That in said movie, she made a striking figure, the beautiful female lead bathed in a white spotlight that made all surrounding crowds invisible.


    Confetti rained down from seemingly nowhere, blowing and sprinkling across everyone for that picture-perfect scene.


    "Meng!" one of the star players reached out, desperately running up to the through confetti and cheers.


    He ignored all celebrating teammates, well wishers, and even lovely little admiring classmates. In that moment, finally, no one else mattered.


    The named girl of course, still had no idea about the apparent movie drama she was in. But she played her part well. Serenely stepping down, dress and hair slightly blowing in the breeze, framed with cheap confetti as if the were blooming flower petals rustling down.


    They met at the edge of green fields in a great embrace, the shorter youth with a running start. The entire world blurred to serve as their backdrop.


    "We won! I-we- I, we won. I did it!" he panted, clinging on even through the adrenaline and exhaustion.


    "You did. Good job!" Meng patted affectionately at his windswept hair, not minding the dirt and grass stains fresh on his uniform.


    That was healthy growing kids for you, ah so cute and energetic. When Jung-Joon looked up to her with that tender face and those sparkling wide blown eyes, hope and elation all mingled together in his precious expression, she hugged him back even harder, to hold back from squealing ''kyaaa'' again in public. Now that would be embarrassing.


    He pulled her in closer to the middle of the green field. Somewhere a less suffocatingly noisy but oddly where even more confetti rained down despite the lack of people.


    "I won..." he reached down, taking a bated breath before decisively clasping her two hands in his own. A great part of him gleefully shaken when he noticed how they were almost larger than her''s.


    "I think that''s pretty obvious at this point."


    Even though she was still taller, when she smiled at him, just for him, Jung-Joon felt on top of the world.


    "It doesn''t have to be right now!" he shouted, a little too caught up and a little too loud. But he had to make sure he was heard. Meng was just so bad at listening.


    "Hmmm?"


    "Even though it can''t be right now..." he grasped her hands even tighter, holding them up "...but can you say you''ll wait for me? I know it sounds weird, I know it''s selfish, I know you think of me as a kid even, and I can''t say how long it''s going to take, but-"


    "Sure! No problem. I can wait."


    She smiled so beautifully that he didn''t know what to do with himself. Confetti danced and he was going to combust and dissolve into it, just so he could be the pieces of sunlight and floating paper petals nestled in her hair.


    "I love you! Meng.... I really love you!" he admitted, hugging her full force.


    Because really what is a boy supposed to do? His heart had already burst, already working too fast from the game. Now it was gone, broken up and all hers. He was young but he knew that much, it was all going to be for the girl in his arms.


    "Ah yeah yeah, I love you too." she choked.


    She tried not to blush at how wrong that sounded. Jr. Highers were as shameless and they were strong these days, so excitable too.


    But he was just so ecstatically happy, so heart-wrenchingly cute, that Meng allowed him to hug and nuzzle into her as tightly as he wished, even when it felt like her lungs were getting squished.


    It was taking kinda long though?


    Didn''t he ask for her to wait so he could go celebrate with his friends? It was an important time and there were so many of them, even ones Meng was friendly enough with to know by name. And don''t think she didn''t notice those little girls batting their eyelashes and pompoms at the attacking midfielder.


    Oh well, that''s part of growing up too.


    This confetti was going to be annoying to get all out of her hair later. Maybe she really should just cut it all off? Was she going to need another shower since J.J. was all grassy and sweaty? Small matters


    Since this was an important winning moment for him, she could indulge his silly whims a bit more.


    She did wonder what they were eating in celebration tonight. Barbeque maybe? What about dessert? She could go for some bingsu and- hey wait what the hell?


    "What are you doing idiot!? How?! Ahh don''t! It''s dangerous! Ahhhh!!!" she screamed, feeling the solid ground leave her feet. The happily laughing boy spinning her up in place.


    And so confetti continued to flutter upon this pair, unaware to each other''s true thoughts but blissful in the moment. Wishing that, even though it would eventually end, as all good things do, that they could hold on to this just a bit longer.


    Not too far from them, at a subtle vantage point, the camera had a great angle filming. Eun-Jung squatting out of sight like a professional wildlife filmmaker


    "Oh this is so much better than watching dramas."


    And cut.


    --------------------------


    ------------


    ----


    -


    I''m sleepy!


    Perhaps it really is unwise to be so active at my age. A toddler''s body demands a lot, from food to sleep. I was having a great dream about old times. One where I was about to eat some epic Korean barbeque and topped off with delicious shaved ice for dessert.


    I miss that shit. I miss modern food, Asian food in general.


    Rice. I want rice, and rice paper, and coffee, and pat bingsu. Just the works. Waking up in another world is extremely hard, especially when it''s vaguely medieval somewhere. I can''t even go run off and cry over a pot of pickles. That stuff is all at home and I''ve very much still in this city center with my parents.


    So sleepy. Let''s go back to dreamland. Maybe if I''m lucky I can go right back to where I left off and actually taste something. Mmmmm.


    I just don''t want to be awake for this. I don''t want to be here at all.


    "Am I supposed to take it then, that my and my daughters'' presence is met with simply a governess?" mother says in an eery tone of voice. The one loaded with honey and the not so subtle threat of pain.


    It''s that dreaded time on the schedule. What I could not avoid this year, even if I got poisoned, silenced and bedridden for it.


    It''s the annual playdate with the stupid prince.


    You know? The thing I''m technically engaged too for now?


    Father is currently at work, some court or meeting place discussing all the important things. International politics and policies, liaisons, military allocations, trade and trusts, the things I would normally be doing if I wasn''t 3. Or did the whole dying at 17 thing.


    No that I think about it''s it quite irresponsible to put those sort of duties into the hands of a teenaged girl? Even worse, why was that teenaged girl more effective than over half the grown old men in that court. Who put those dumbasses in charge? Nepotism?


    Ahahaha I''m so funny it''s just plain sad. Ahh let''s not stress myself out too early with thoughts about that. Nothing I can do in this current body.


    It''s not like I can draft up a list of sins and draggable cases of corruption per prime person that previous Rosalia discovered in the future.


    Well...I already did. My ledger is in my baggie! For references in case I forget something, any little detail can be a helpful cheat in my future. But I can''t just leave it under my father''s office door. That would scream suspicious, put me on the stakes. The first witch trial, featuring the tiniest accused toddler on stand. I''ll go down in history, not in the way I would like.


    Not like I''m the psychic one, though Lilyanne''s occasional prophetic ''visions'' are quite faulty when they''re out of context. Like most psychic things are. Gonna need grampa''s, though preferably Gable''s, help to pass this info on convincingly when the time comes.


    Maybe I can fake it? That''s asking for a lot of troublesome work though...


    As annoying as it is to be infantized and shackles along like a true baby, it is much easier to leave things to other people. Especially since my body isn''t quite what it used to be. I''m so tiny and weak, and when it''s nap or meal times, my body seems to operate on mindless instinct.


    So I simply yawn as mother stares down the entourage of the stupid prince, a personal line of pale foreign babysitting maids and an official-looking old governess. While mother has brought her own, so we''re not outnumbered, it is quite an imbalanced power display.


    For a lady, mother of one of the betrothed, to be met with simply a governess without a word of warning ahead of time, is quite insulting. Even if the other party is a queen, royalty even, as a parent and prospective in law, leaving matching a correspondence, a letter, is the least that could have been done.


    Normally these sort of rules and trifles don''t personally bother mother. Either that or she doesn''t always notice, lots of minor things fly by mother pretty easily.


    But something like this is too blatant.


    The governess doesn''t even bow, merely curtsey, as if she were a higher more respectable station than a servant for the other party. No matter the power she holds back in the North, in their fairytale frozen rock castle, the appearance she puts on in front of my mother is easily seen an impudent.


    If this was a good drama, mother would order one of her maids to slap the woman. Then they could all get in a maid slapping fight.


    But that is not reality. Boo boring.


    Instead the governess remains still as a statue, face as lively as stone, while a pair of stewards blows some trumpets and read off the ''official'' apology, ghostwritten for the queen, on why she''s not here and blah blah blah. Get to the apology gifts already.


    Everyone knows the Ventrellas are already rich. A literal chestful of coins means nothing, it may even be seen as insulting, as if presenting us with some pocket lint. It''s only me that wants to roll around in a room of my own money.


    To show no ill will or damnable insults, the servants present not any money, though that would be very preferable to me, but lavish displays of useless wealth.


    Two chalcedonies carved statues, translucent and as beautiful as the finest marbled jades, shaped into a pair of horses were presented. The cost of the stone alone well worth over its weight in gold, let alone the artisan''s hands. Art, something my family much appreciates, being a patron of many projects in any lifetime.


    I think that fund went up much faster sooner though, given how many pretty bridges father is making. It''s fine? Just so long as they''re not easily breakable.


    They''ll make excellent little....door decor?


    While they certainly look expensive, it''s the thought and supposed intention behind the gifts that matter. The stewards follow up with bolts of thick fine fabric more suitable for making cozy blankets than clothes. Halos of knotted silvers and gold, meant to rest on a lady''s forehead like an informal tiara. Tins and chests of precious herbs and medicines suitable for straight brewing.


    Translation, they''re telling us to calm down and have a cup of herbal tea essentially.


    There are no suitable grounds to get mad even. The gifts well thought out for our family and easily can be taken with good intentions towards health, in informal knotted jewelry a promise still of a union.


    Well played.


    "Oh my, well, we can''t just have it at that. Now do we?" mother doesn''t even clap, her maids stepping forth like it''s a tense arms deal.


    With them, they carry forth bars of gold and decorative glass bottles, treasures themselves, filled with wines and honey. Bolts of pearly white freshly processed spider silk. Chests of sunny heat stones and pretty lutes and instruments carved out of various colorful material.


    Translation, we''re much richer and nicer than you. Also, you''re cold and boring.


    While it hurts my shallow pockets to let all this money go, it''s a game that must be paid for.


    In the long term, it''s a statement that in no way were we cheap, greedy or unpious, taking advantage of the royal family''s favor, at least on the surface. In the short term, any little thing can be taken as a petty face slap of honor.


    I hate it, it loses money!


    To add insult onto injury, mother smiles and thanks the stewards and some presenting maids personally, stepping over and ignoring the governess to address these lower ranked servants. Like it was Halloween candy, she passes out ribboned and bowed little sachets. The pouches filled with dried flowers, jingling with the beautiful sound of coins, money!


    I am suddenly more awake.


    After all, everyone likes tips but not everyone gives it. The soft colorful ribbons and packaging were also a fun little treat, the stewards and pages gingerly tucking the pouches away with thanks, already planning on how to present them to any sweethearts they may be courting. More importantly, money!


    Gimmie!


    To my grabby hands, mother dotingly passes an extra scented sachet for me to play with. Score, extra coins for my trouble.


    "Play nice now Rosa, mama will be right outside. Lily say bye bye~" she pulls up Lilyanne, as if she were sending me off to war across the door, which she technically is.


    "Yes mother."


    "Lily wanna play with Rosa!


    "There now girls, it will be just for a little bit. Lily have some tea with mama! Rosa kissies~, and don''t make anyone cry my love, mua mua."


    Urg, what about me? What if I want to cry upon seeing the hidden away baby prince stupido?


    But mother minds it not, kissing every available surface of my face, retying my baby bonnet and handing me off the march across the doorway to where my cursed fiance and I will be trapped for an hourglass.


    It could be more, but we''ve always tearfully declined in our youths. It really is no fun trying to talk with a breathing rock.


    Refusing any maids to carry me, I step forth all by myself. Impressing everyone with my grace and manners. Haha, I''m three, not eating dirt is already pretty impressive.


    The table of refreshments is very disappointing today. Normally they''re the highlights of my mandatory playdates, but it''s mostly local sweets today. If I have to play with the foreign prince, I should at least get some new goodies to try.


    At least the couch looks soft, perhaps I can catch a quick nap?


    "Hey!"


    Hmmm, am I forgetting something?


    Oh these fruit filled spritz cookies aren''t so bad? Oh and that baked kuchen, hmm let''s have a slice of that.


    Sugar is expensive so let''s put some of those sweets in my baggie for later.


    Amar likes fruit jam and just cookies or small treats in general, while Lukas likes richer satisfying cakes. Constant snacker vs big meal eater. Any pound cakes around? Have they made any custard? That''s the good stuff form the Northen kitchens. Gotta bribe and feed the minions. I''m such a wonderful evil boss.


    "Hey!?!"


    Bleck. This flower shaped marzipan is, I hate to say it, too sweet. Pffffft, it''s like they just mashed almonds and pure sugar. No finesse at all. What a trap.


    Is that a butter pie? Haha everything is so rural to my modern eye.


    Well, it''s not like we can do fresh fruit bingsu or anything. Maybe if I get back to sleep, I can taste it in my dreams?


    "Hey!!!"


    Ah yes, the classic pulling pigtails move. Wonderful I''m just swooning over this match.


    Contrary to what I remember and expected, the stupid rock prince actually moved. So much so there''s a pale kiddy fist pulling at my hair to try and force my head around.


    I''m a big anti-domestic violence sort of person. So it''s only right if I break his wrists right?


    "What''s wrong with you?!" I screech, twisting that wrist to release me.


    "Ow! What''s wrong with me? What''s wrong with you?! You were all weird and- hey why is your head all red?"


    Ow ow ow, somehow the preschool version of my fiance has managed to pull out a few strands of my apparently red hair. Owwww?!


    "It''s real?!"


    A potato stands before me. Humpty Dumpty practically. With a little mop of straight blond hair, fists and cheeks pink as a baboon''s butt. I try not to look much at him for he never fails to annoy me. The stupid prince is currently but a tiny chubby version of his future self, the same face, but full and pale as an egg. Hopefully just as breakable.


    But mother says not to beat anyone to the point of tears again, and I''d rather not be caught by her.


    "Of course it is, but who pulls out someone''s hair?! You. Rude thing. Get away from me this instant. What? Too fast for you to understand? For the next hour that side is yours and this side is mine. We won''t bother each other and that will be more fun for each of us."


    "...Why are you so weird?! I''m going to tell my honorable father and mother I won''t want to marry you if you keep doing that."


    Huh? If only it was that easy!


    I finally take a decent look at this mini version of my much hated fiance. With a relieved sigh I can say there''s no superimposition of Gable''s beautiful face. Not that I worried about that before, I know what this kid will look like in his prime ''prince charming'' days after all. With his general features bolder and stronger, Erik''s hair was a couple of shades too yellow like an old stain, eyes too stereotypically blue and listless, a shallow pool you could barely get your feet wet in.


    Currently, they look much brighter than I can recall, most likely due to only being a preschooler. Ah youth, hard to be too mad at kids this young. I still hate him but I can admit he has excellent mochi cheeks. They look very fat and hittable.


    Why is this baby prince so arrogant though? He didn''t act like this before? Not at this age at least?


    Go back to being a constipated looking little rich boy on that chair over there!


    "Hmmpf" I slap his hand down and walk away to my side.


    Never feed the trolls.


    The maids in the far off corner stand still as wall decorations, not even reacting. Before I would worry about what they would see and report, but currently I''m so small I can get away with anything. What else do people expect?


    I really would rather not waste a perfectly good hour having an awkward staring contest. Rather this would be a perfect time to nap. Climbing up to a cushioned sofa, I curl up to do just that.


    "Hey, what are you doing?"


    "..."


    "Are you ignoring me!? You''re not supposed to do that!"


    If anyone else was looking on the scene, they might see a little white dumpling steaming up. While he is getting mad, he also looks at a loss of what to do or how to process this situation.


    "Then what am I supposed to do?" I yawn lazily, readjusting my pillow.


    "Look at me!"


    "Then what?"


    "You have to do it first!"


    "Is that an order?"


    "Yes! It''s an order from me. I''m the prince you know?"


    Lazily I peek open one eye, seeing that prime mochi stare up at me resolutely. As if he were expecting me to get down and start bowing on the floor in apology.


    "No." I turn over, facing the couch cushions.


    "What?! Why? But I said it''s an order..." the squeaky voice sounds honestly quite lost.


    Tch, spoiled rich kids are just so annoying.


    "What are you going to do huh? Cry? Chop off my head? You''re the prince so everyone has to do what you order or you chop off their heads right? People will listen to you because they''re scared you''ll hurt them and no one will like you. Is that why you pulled my hair? To get my head ready?! Then what? None of that is going to get you what you want or make me feel any better. Now be quiet and let me sleep. "


    "I-"


    "Shhhhh I''m tired."


    "*Hic*"


    Oh no, did I actually make him cry? That''s the one thing mother told me not to do! I didn''t even get to beat him up?


    Turning around, I''m forced to confront that yes I made the kid cry. Baby stupid prince choking back confused wet sobs, his little white hand holding themselves over his mouth to not make too much noise, though he fails quite miserably.


    If he was crying all out, I wouldn''t feel an ounce of pity. But he''s not.


    As much as I hate his stuck up face, even as a child, there''s something about it when he cries like that. Reminds me a little too much of one of the minions.


    I feel myself sigh, goodbye sweet dreams.


    "What? Did I really make you cry from just that?" I readjust my bonnet, making it more comfortable. The jig is up anyways, my hideous hair already found out.


    Should I just chop off it off again? Mother wasn''t too pleased though...and it only got worse.


    "*Hic* No! *hic*" the stupid prince stubbornly denies through his hiccups. It''s particularly funny looking when he shakes his head with his stiff little high collar.


    "Then what is the wet stuff coming out your eyes and nose?" I sigh again.


    It''s going to be a long hour. Next time I make him cry, let''s do it from afar. Somewhere I can actually run away and laugh over from.


    "*Hic* I''m not!*hic. I''ll be quiet. *hic* Really!"


    "You just shouted."


    Was he ever so loud? I swore he was much more rock-like and less baby bird? But then again baby prince isn''t the freshest in Rosalia''s memory. I guess there goes the theory he was just born like that.


    "I''m not." he whispers shouts.


    Huh how familiar? I mean it''s nowhere near as loud but quite familiar.


    A part of Lukas always annoys me, from his loud voice and head on call to wild action, to being denser than any rock, though his head seems more up in the air than anything. When he gets things right, or things do go his way, he''s almost unbearably haughty.


    At least he laughs and has an actual personality.


    Like a proud cat that caught the cream, a very fast very strong dog that ran off with your food in its jaws. But it''s a safe percentile, otherwise, I probably would kick him out of my sight immediately. At his worst moments, maybe around 30%? That''s how much I''d say these two brats can resemble each other, now that I''m really looking for it.


    Otherwise, I wouldn''t have noticed at all.


    "Are you *hic* feeling better*hic* now?" the 30% bad Lukas sniffs, storybook blue eyes still dripping tears.


    "What are you talking about?" I adjust the pillows even further, thinking about building a temporary pillow fort.


    That could distract the kid? After all he''s only about 4 right now. Even the stupid prince has to have his honestly true innocent times, as dumb as he''ll grow up.


    "You couldn''t *hic* come because you''re sick." gradually, he begins to calm back down, especially now that he feels attention is on him. "Do you get sick a lot?! I heard you do!"


    " ....What?"


    "You''re a baby and *hic* really small. I remember them talking and saying one of you was weak and always got sick. Then you couldn''t come this year because you were sick real bad. You''re still sick right?! That''s why you''re so sleepy even when the sun''s up."


    I slam my head into my hands.


    I have done it! I have seemed to have gained the Lilyanne reputation! Oh woe is sickly little me~ Not a bad direction for the stupid to go down.


    "A little?" I fake cough, quickly adopting my new role. "Everyone said I could have died over winter....Then they said I had to come today even if I felt-"


    I let out coughing fit, throwing in a bit of those teary eyes. Any percent of Lilyanne''s famous waterworks looks awkward and awful on me, as judged by father, but since this kid is so young and immature, it might just work?


    Ok that could just be me laughing so hard I''m tearing up. Ahahha! Me?! The delicate the sickly one? Ahhahahaha!


    "No! You can''t *hic* die!"


    Hook line and sinker. Man if only everyone was this easy. I made the kid start crying again though? How annoying, I barely got him to stop.


    "They say I won''t. *cough* If only I....rested enough." out of dramatic habit, I lay a hand over my forehead, leaning weakly into the cushion.


    "Don''t move! *hic* That''s an order, *hic* you have to rests lots!"


    "If only....it was quiet...don''t come over to this side, I don''t want anyone sick too~" I play dying and dead, letting out another gross coughing attack. The proceed to ''faint'' into my pillow as the stupid little prince eagerly agrees.


    A four-year-old Erik is a lot nicer than any version in my unfortunate downloaded memories. If only he would stay this easy and obedient.


    But even the most loveable child will grow up, once they reach their teen years and shoot up past you. They get wry, bold, attention from other girls, and utterly exasperating. They tease you to death with a joke that never ends.


    He was still....very very cute though, no matter what age.


    I turn over in my attempt to sleep. Even if it was just a dream....it was nice to see you, to see everyone, again. Even for just a moment, a moment longer.


    "Kyaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!"


    I don''t know how long I managed to drift off but that horrible sound jolts me awake, as do some awful crashing sounds coming from outside. It sounds like an ongoing chase scene, full of car crashes and falling chandeliers.


    Before I even notice it, the standby maids were screaming, taking the shocked stupid prince out and over the safety, another doorway to take them to their private suite. Before I can even get a sound out of my own shock, or complaints, a meteor goes crashing through wood and plaster and gold paint.


    By meteor I mean minions?


    Lukas screams, all 100% of him that''s for sure. Running for his life in a bright blue version of his sailor suit, a tiny Donald Duck fluffed up and quacking angrily as he completely ignores the thousands in property damage he just committed to try speedrunning through.


    Even more surprisingly, is the kiddy leash attached to his person?


    On the other end of the leash, Amar seems to be half dragged half weakly hanging on for dear life. Riding the forceful wave that is a Lukas powered speedboat. The smaller boy not in his infamous dark blue original sailor suit but no less adorable. It''s a white matching version to Lukas, the little blue flaps flying through the air as he goes zooming by.


    What are they doing here? Did Gable adjust and dress them in those? It''s so adorably well made! But it''s getting ruined as they crash through walls and- oh, goodbye window. Goodbye minion one and two.


    "Kyaaaaaa~ Come back!!! Oh we''re playing tag?! Oh ohohohoho~ So precious!!!"


    Oh, goodbye mother.


    Well now, I am in a damaged room, with amazing security apparently, and I have no idea to explain anything.


    Let''s just take another nap. Yes. Everything will be solved after that.


    "Rosa?"


    My little sister shakily peeks through the unbroken door, very much too high. She''s carried by a line of diligent maids as she looks lost and teary. Perhaps feeling abandoned by our own mother. Who apparently left her own innocent small children to chase after some cute boys.


    Father won''t be very happy to hear about this?


    Uniforms are pretty powerful stuff though, especially sailor suits. It can''t be helped. Cuteness simply rules the world. Even if I can''t condone such behavior, I completely understand.


    I clap for one of mother''s maid to pick me up, yes thank you, Noemi. I think it''s time to flee the scene of the crime as well.


    "Come on Lily. Let''s go back and take a nap. Big sister has treats for you later!"


    "Yaaaay! Okay Rosa~!"


    Let''s just enjoy life while it''s still sweet and simple.


    --------------

 122 Survival Round

    Now there are plenty of reasons for possibly why that is.


    He has a lot of make up work to do for his impromptu dungeon vacation? A lot of meetings to make, current projects to update, and even ribbon-cutting ceremonies to attend. It''s his fault for making so many damn bridges and stuff.


    A lot of property damages to estimate and pay off? That includes the fee for all the hotel employees to never speak of it again. Maids to bribe and noble witnesses to calm down and generally forget.


    Forget what? Why he damage that my mother, Lady Ventrella, was technically responsible for.


    Lots of reasons why my busy father is darkly fuming in silence, his poker face promising a long and cruel death. It''s not just the work stress. Probably.


    After the fiasco of that game of ''tag'' the other day, that ended only when a deliciously pony tailed Gable appeared. Such beauty! It was so wonderful!


    Ahem.


    Said beauty did not confiscate any of the minions right away but rather locked the door to our suite and had them all kneel on the floor for hours, arms up high carrying weight enchanted water buckets in repentance. When I say all I mean everyone, the minions, grampa, even mother....a fully grown woman.


    Grampa on the floor is fine, normal even, but mother? It was quite odd to see her like that? My mother being the princess and queen of this family, with her every whim tended too. Forced to kneel till her legs cramped and arms trembled.


    It was a sight never before witnessed in any of my lifetimes.


    Inhumane torture on such a delicate lady.


    But she did leave a mother shaped hole through that one window.....did she not...feel the wall? There seems to be some messed up genetics at play, let''s blame grampa.


    Well, it''s not like anyone would ever winningly go against Gable anyways. Gable knows best. All hail Gable! Please punish everyone appropriately, especially grampa. It is very much needed.


    It must have been a very serious offense though?


    I didn''t even get any extra time to admire Gable''s glorious high hair, high cheekbones or the knuckles of his long fingers, pressing more invisible weights onto the punishment. Soooo handsome even when angry. Right after Gable saw fit to end it all, Lukas was immediately lifted off to be ''grounded'' into maximum security back home.


    At least he wasn''t alone. My grampa subsequently dragged off. Gable''s perfectly shaped lips cursing and scolding in his ear the whole way out.


    Leaving ...exactly one defenseless minion. In the same room as mother... No escape Let''s just say that cute white sailor suit really didn''t make it


    "Soooooo cute~ You''re just soooo cute~" Mother nuzzles her ''prize''. For both the game of tag and surviving Gable''s punishing lecture. She''s literally kept him like a toy plushie, unreleasing my minion trainee and preventing any escape.


    So far that plan is failing, in fact, it may be getting even more dangerous. I''m not just talking about my father mentally dissecting the kid alive in his mind''s eye.


    "Open up~ here here!"


    Mother tries force-feeding Amar like a baby doll, waving a spoon in front of the frozen stiff boy. Doing everything short of prying his jaw open to spot the adorable teeth gaps again.


    Ah the charms of children at that age.


    As if still analyzing the room for even the chance of escape, Amar''s eyes rapidly scan the perimeter, briefly glancing upon not just me and my pouting sister but the increasingly cold glare of my father. One that only mother seems to be blissfully ignorant of.


    Taking a deep breath, Amar seems to have decided on how he would like to die today.


    "Sorry. I can''t, it hurts...." he turns up, presenting it soft little face to mother''s hungry jaws, "my tooth...really hurts too much..." Amar whimpers.


    He''s chosen death by mother, the most dangerous and quite frankly suicidal choice!


    Let''s review the stats. He''s done it before and actually has a decent chance of miraculously pulling it off again. This is what I''ve been partially training him for. There''s also elements of natural cuteness on his side and an additional physical buff of...a whole new little sailor suit! What power.


    Where the hell did mother get that anyways? He might just make it out alive, from both my parents, like that!


    With slightly downturned eyes, like shyly peeking green of a tasty pistachio nut, the kid doesn''t even need to pull out any fake tears. He naturally looks so puppy dog cute and pitiful at all times, all without doing anything. Against that pathetically sweet whimper and bashful head tilt behind small shaking hands, trying desperately to cover his mouth, my cute worshiping mother is near losing her mind.


    Starting out strong! Critical hit!


    "Kyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! \u003c3\u003c3\u003c3~ Oh of course! Milk, porridges, custards, and puddings! All the puddings! Oh look at your thin little shoulder, you''re as light as a feather! "


    "...pudding? Can it be sweet?" his head tilts the other way in questioning.


    Oh a brutal follow up, all bases of cute covered. Every angle to show how pitiful but adorable a kiddy can possibly be!


    "Ooooof course~" mother swoons falls over herself practically.


    The dimples come out, Amar''s smiles, squinting up in happiness so softly sweet who cares if it''s all a big fat lie.


    The killing blow! We can all hear it the exact moment mother completely loses her mind and soul. A complete victory!!!


    "Kyaaaaa!!! Kyaa kyaa kyaaa!!!! Order everything! Order everything soft and sweet! AT ONCE!!!" my mother fangirl style screams, breaking everyone''s ear drums.


    "I like custard....but it''s a little cold?" Amar shivers.


    "Clothes! Quilts! Order the children''s tailor at once! And-"


    "These shoes makes my foot hurt...I can''t run in them."


    "New ones! At once!!! Kyaaa oh even ur little leggies! So tiiiiiiny and cuuuute!~"


    "...I''m scared?" he tugs.


    "Of what?! What is it?! " mother fusses.


    Okay now he''s just lording over this way too much. Run off now child, take your pudding and go. You had you fun


    The child in her arms, who is not her''s, uh hello Lilyanne and I are right here, shakes his head as if in denial. Playing coy, he snuggles down down a little gerbil,as if unaware how more adorable it all makes him look.


    "Everything...is all....too scary."


    As if it was simply a mistake, as if he didn''t mean to at all, Amar peeks those now shimmering tearful eyes, only to ''accidentally'' meet the dark villainy hurricane that is my father''s murderous aura. Whimpering, he quickly burrows himself back down, crying like a weak newborn baby animal for its mother.


    Ha! He''s gone too far now! There''s now way mother would-


    "Darling! Stop that or leave the room immediately, can''t you see you''re scaring him! Oh the pitiful little thing!"


    ....what?


    "Maria, beloved,...you can''t be serious." the dining utensils in father''s hands makes an ear splitting noises, splitting and cracking on themselves against porcelain. In fact there''s quite a few already broken forks. Huh...


    In mother''s arms, Amar shakes much like a teacup chihuahua, blinking away legitimate tears at this point. That doesn''t make sense, I''ve only seen him cry once prior to this. I don''t understand, he''s already won and milking it! What more could he want? Too far minion! You''re going too far.


    "...sorry...I''m sorry..." he whimpers, tightly closing his eyes to wipe away such crocodile green tears.


    "The poor innocent boy! Frederick stop doing that glaring face! At once!"


    Too far.


    Father is not the only one very displeased. There''s an, admittedly very young and cute, homewrecker in our presence and we are seemingly powerless against him. It''s like I''m living a bad drama, where a parents defends his lowly scheming mistress instead of his legitimate family. At this rate I fear mother may give up our family fortune if the kid asks for it next.


    Unforgivable.


    "Oh there there, don''t be scared. Oh it must all be so new and large and frightening! Yes! Oh of course. I understand, the first time papa took me to a proper city was just so strange. There there, don''t shake, oh has the shop been set up yet? The custard?! There there now~"


    Mother coos, ignoring the world but for her new boy toy. As if disappointed in father, the most important and disgustingly loved man in her life, she hmmpf and walks away, carrying off my minion to be dolled and pampered in luxurious torture.


    I''m in shock, pure shock. It''s not just critical hits but a full turning of sides in the battle, no the war! Mother why? Mother?!!


    I would have stayed in frozen shock, if not for that little peek of Amar''s head popping out from the crook of mother''s arm. No longer acting, he calmy and silently waves. With a little smile just big enough to spot those childish teeth gaps, he mouths out two repeating syllables ''bye bye.''


    "Unforgivable!"


    "Maaaamaaaa! Waaah! Mama!"


    "Maria? Surely you''re not this mind-numbingly stu- Maria!?"


    The trail of her skirts disappear, the maids closing the door neatly shut. They may as well have slammed it on father''s dead and broken heart. Prompting Lilyanne to cry even harder. What shall become of our family now?


    "Maaaaamaaaaa!!!!!!"


    "Father? How could you let this happen!? How!?!"


    "...Alfonso. I want the rat disposed of immediately and his ashes on my desk by midnight."


    Alfonso, with the loyalty of a good wife and mother unlike my own, rocks away Lilyanne''s tears while comforting father with an "Unadvisable, but we shall do what we can my Lord."


    "Rosa?!" my sister stiffs, calling for me as I walk to the door.


    "Chip...what do you think you''re doing?" father sounds even more unamused than he looks. Expressionless dark, void as a finely carved statue, about to brack open the gates of hell and fury. Maybe.


    I pull out from my bag, not my usual safe practice staff, but the crooked hook. Suitable for herding chickens, sheep, and misbehaving minions into their places.


    "Tonight takes too long. I''m going to kill him in the most painful way now."


    Even if it sounds like a bad drama, it really can''t be helped. As the eldest Ventrella child and current heir, I must defend my father''s sullied honor. My foolish mother, stolen and seduced away by a mere primary school aged youth.


    I knew the sailor suit was too powerful. I just knew it, but it''s my fault for first bringing it to this world, thus also my responsibility to dispose of. As is the training of my own servants. What a shame, I have to kill my own minion.


    At my talk of murder, father calms down. I can tell for the air no longer feels as if teetering on the edge of a plague level storm.


    "That''s my girl." he pats me on the head but ultimately prevents me from going to teach my henchmen a lesson.


    Too far I say, too far!!!


    Also if I wait for father to really act there might not be any kiddy henchman left?


    "My Lord. There is still the auction on schedule to make." Alfonso reminds father, as he wraps up Lilyanne with something of a baby blanket. My little sister learning quite early on the concept of parental abandonment.


    "An auction? What kind?" I look up, now properly distracted.


    "Charity, as it always is. " father roll his tongue, allowing a steward to help him hand him his outer coat and pass his fine leather gloves.


    "Ah. ''Charity''." I repeat.


    That''s what organizers often say when there''s something that will cause public outrage being auctioned and sold off. It''s not necessarily bad or illegal stuff. Just often. Especially in the private auction that occurs after the general one. Usually only a few choice pieces behind all the general filler and pretties, like hiding a tree in a forest.


    "Papa? Papa leave us too?" my sister wetly sniffs, still looking cute despite being wrapped up like an insane asylum patient.


    What? It''s a comforting toddler wrap supposed to stimulate a warm hug. Works great at getting kids like Lilyanne to calm down. Even better on kids like Lukas! No chance of flailing if you tie her arms down like that.


    The crazy toddler look works for not only does father pat to pick her up, he even considers it.


    "Shall I take the girls out today?"


    Hmmm sit around the hotel suite crying for our lost mother? Or go out with father? To an auction no less. The choice is obvious!


    "Will mama be dere?" Lilyanne sniffs.


    "No Lily," I roll my eyes, clapping to demand an outing cloak and hat, "the homewrecker took her and now we don''t have a mother."


    Though he was very much not drinking anything, father chokes. The snap of his glove sounding particularly tight and painful. He calls me by the awful nickname in reprimanding and it reminds me just how messed up my relationship to this nerd is compared to Rosalia the original. Such a discrimination difference.


    Though to be fair, he never called Lilyanne "Cheese" either.


    Nor does mother leave the gross love of her life, and precious Lilyanne to galvanize with, dare I say it, much younger boys. Oh the shame. The scandal! That one broken window!


    My head hurts too much if I try to compare and contrast all the differences of how I recall my parents are supposed to be, and what I am actually forced to live with day to day. Let''s just blame grampa and move on.


    "What? Did I say anything wrong? I was already very nice for not mentioning how you failed as a man to keep mother from walking out with another. To think you''re considered you good looking? More like good for nothing. You nerdy loser. "


    Why is he still choking? I''m the one who should be surprised at these turn of events. Is that blood coming out his mouth?


    Ah was he sneaking wine earlier? Shame, it''s too early for actual drinking!


    "Father, I''m getting my hat and bag. Wait a bit and have some water to sober up." I hold my arms out, allowing mother''s maids to dress me in outer layers like any respectable lady.


    Bonnets are just so childish and it''s practically summer now, hats are much more suitable. Especially to protect my poor growing out locks. Sun hats seem like such as easy and common idea, but they''re too common, and thus not popular. But I''m three and adorable so I say it works!


    That and I was bored enough to crochet one, not much to do when mother and father have business around the city and I don''t. Boooo, even staying on the vineyard was oddly more productive in some ways.


    Shame how I can never be fully satisfied anywhere I get thrown around.


    "Lily too!" my sister wriggles and rolls, snuggling up in father''s chest.


    Hey. Lilyanne. You''re three and have proper working legs. Get out of there and suit up, oh never mind. Fine. Be a big baby.


    "....Failure....as a man...." father seems traumatized from a healthy dose of the truth. Good for him. He''s too prideful anyways, with that unholy face of his.


    Despite how much I complain or make fun of her closet, mother really does work hard to pretty herself up. What does father do in return to be attractive to her? Besides purely existing of course?


    It''s simply not fair!


    Mother isn''t me. She can''t be seduced by pure money. Oh I do love money. I hope there''s some fun things at the auction to amuse myself with. Maybe help me make more money?!


    "Thank you for waiting father, I''m finished dressing and can....father what are you doing. Father? "


    "Papa huggies! Yayay!"


    It''s funny how blank faced he is, as if completely overloaded. Ahahahaha I see. He''s never been faced with rejection before! Ahahahahaha!


    "It''s not your fault you''re a loser....well yes it is. But it''s not all your fault, I guess. Now hurry up!"


    Even after I had my laugh, the father unit is not operational. Still clutching onto to Lilyanne like she''s a comfort blanket, eyes blank and face frozen.


    Ah, it''s almost unreal how handsome he is when he''s not using that foully rude mouth of his. If only cameras existed, I''d sell postcards of him. I''m sure there''s plenty of young and not so young rich ladies who I can make a pretty coin from that way.


    "Alfonso? Is the carriage prepared?"


    "Already called for my lady, please allow for additional preparations to make the trip all the more comfortable for you and young lady Lilyanne. It shall be done in the time you finish your juice." he presents me with a kiddy glass and a tray, ushering me to one of the cushioned lounge chairs.


    Very well then, I can''t expect magically speedy service and I do get motion sick easily. The stablehands and footmen are only human and need their prep time. I''m not a pure evil little boss.


    "Alfonso, please slap my loser of a father awake."


    "Right away my young lady."


    Taking off his glove, Alfonso slaps my father with the cloth exactly once.


    "Again."


    "Yes young lady Rosalia."


    Oh hohoho this is so amusing! He''s not reacting at all. Father broke so easily!


    My legs are a little, okay a lot, too short to cross and look cool while I sip my drink, but I do point and laugh at least. Lilyanne giggling along, though she may just be more amused by the glove, reaching out past the blanket to swipe at it like it''s a toy.


    "My my my, whatever shall pure sweet pretty Lilyanne do with a father as charmless and useless as this? However, will you protect her from all her future scheming admirers when you can''t even stop mother, your own woman, from being wooed and stolen off by one measly commoner boy? What a headache! She''ll be crying in another''s man''s arms in no time at all, if nothing but for comfort about what a pure loser her own father is. Oh ho ho ho!"


    This is honestly quite fun! Despite the complete lack in facial expressions, his mood quite obviously sinks as I speak.


    She already did you know, just cry into Alfonso''s arms? Seriously though, please consider the Lilyanne anti-harem and fanclub defense fund. I''m not kidding at all when I say any of this. It really will be quite a headache during puberty.


    However, as if the ball had finally dropped, father looks simply aghast. Looking down to his precious baby girl, then back to me, back to a giggling Lily, then stupidly back to me, his eyes in pure horror and panic.


    Yes yes yes the truth I speak is quite painful to hear. Yes, I''m a terrible sort of genius I know.


    "Alfonso. Get the leashes." father orders.


    Wait what?


    You know this is exactly the kind of treatment that women hate. You''re not getting at love that way? Wait, no, not the toddler leash! Nooooo!


    Helpless, I''m strapped down and leashed up. The device previously only used by the blasted grampa and unfortunately even Gable, now in father''s cruel hands.


    "Wherever did you get such juvenile cheap thoughts to even utter into words, hmmm my love?" still holding Lilyanne in one arm, he tugs at me with the whip-like leash. Forcing me to follow along, much like a misbehaving pet.


    "I didn''t say anything wrong...."


    "Abominable influences this past month...I see. Gone by midnight I swear."


    Hmmm? Yes, grampa is a very bad influence in general. Please think again before leaving me alone so long with that awful man. Ahhhhh don''t drag me, I have very short little legs! I don''t need to follow in range of your shadow!


    Into the carriage I go, picked up right at the steps.


    To make matter''s worse, I don''t even get my own seat despite all this room. The bigger the carriage the better, and stabler, thus affecting me less. So what if it''s ostentatiously large at this point? Make it even larger and more comfortable for me, we can afford it.


    Instead, father plops me right down into his lap.


    Meanwhile, his favored daughter is released to roll and wander across this compartment of the carriage, meant to resemble a cozy lounge as much as possible. There''s even little toys and pull out tables for her to draw and amuse herself on.


    Somehow the leash on me tightens even further, completely locking me off from leaving even 2 feet. I''ve never felt the discrimination so blatantly in this life till this moment.


    "Really now Chippy, please go on. Where else have I ....failed? Hmmm? Why so silent now my dear?" that evil man threatens by untying my ribboned hat, petting the top of my head like I were the plaything.


    ".....I''m good now."


    "Oh, I''m sure there are plenty more wild...ideas, in my Rosa''s pretty little head. You were so ready with so much to say. Hmmm?"


    ".....nope! Nothing! Very empty."


    He leans down, obviously to threaten and interrogate me further by pressing a cruel chuckle into my hair. Warmth pressed hard against my delicate little skull. Oh the vile man, no mercy even for a three year old.


    "It''s too dangerous, you two resemble your mother too much." father laughs behind me, against my ear, sounding more than a little insane right now.


    "Ah....not really, no. Actually I think Lily is even stupider? You should do something about that!"


    "Something hmm? Whatever happened to that ''very empty'' status of yours, my mischievous pretty little foolish daughter?"


    I''m scared now.


    I joked too much and now I must pay the tall price. Woe is me. This is what I get for overstepping. Why did I ever want to have fun? No more fun, only hard work and suffering from now on.


    Lilyanne save me. Go be cute or something. Do a stupid dance, draw a pretty picture, get kidnapped. Just get the damn nerd away from me.


    But no, I''m quite stuck. And I really don''t think I''m allowed off till I squeel out information like a scared piglet.


    Really something this nerd just gets so damn scary!


    I''m squealing! I''m squealing already, stop being so damn creepy! Take my shitty useless ramblings on wooing women like a normal person. What was a month underground not enough for you two!? You''re so gross, don''t be even grosser!


    I don''t know! Go for that domineering CEO thing or something, I hear women love that! Kabedon and rain down roses and riches. Buy her everything at the auction and compose all the shitty poetry yes! She liked emotional cheesy shit like that. Just let me go!


    What''s a CEO you say?


    Oh oops. Did I really say that part out loud? What is a CEO in this world? Oh shit.


    It''s too early for the tailored suit I''ve been secretly working on, in my very bored and very spare time of course, but I may just have to ask for Alfonso to pull it out to appease father''s torturous curiosity.


    Am I bringing another sinful creation into the world with this? Quite possibly?


    Should I at least make it as high fashion sellable as possible by using father''s fine figure? Absolutely.


    Really I don''t know anything else honorable father. Please release me?


    Nothing! I swear! Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Not the tickles! Anything but the tickles!!! That''s just cheating! Information confessed under duress means nothing ahahahaha! I''ll spill, I''ll spill!


    I''m going to be sick.


    It''s a total loss for me today. A girl just can''t win.


    Well, as expected for me. What a shame.


    Can I at least buy something today? Maybe a horse? Let''s get started on my stable for when we finally go back home.


    Going out is fun and all, but at my current small age, home really is the best. I''m also not leashed as much. Got a lot of money to make and save. Got a lot to prepare for before I can officially run away.


    But until then, I''ll play along. Just until then.


    ----------


    ------


    ---


    ---


    ------


    -----------


    "....prepare...officially run away....play...oh hohoho~"


    Is she getting better or worse with this habit?


    Like her mother, it increases when she''s in a relaxed and comfortable state. Unlike her mother, it also goes up with stress.


    At the very least, it''s not....as bad....for now.


    My eldest daughter....is truly the one greatest headache I have ever had the pleasure of having. Really up on par with her mother, and she''s only three years old. How wonderful.


    Three grand total headaches I wouldn''t trade for the world.


    Holding my troublesome eldest, while calming, is not very reassuring still. Children are not something you can just ''predict'', especially so for Rosalia.


    Years ago, when my not-yet wife jokingly, perhaps dreamily, asked how many kids I would like, I told her flat out. Without missing a single beat of any tone.


    None.


    Zero. Negative. Avoid at all costs.


    If the poor unfortunate woman that would be paired and partnered in matrimony with me wanted to conceive, that would be her quest and not mine. I realized, even then, I''m not exactly the ideal catch of a husband.


    A concept maybe. A desire, status, even a possession. Especially a possession.


    I''m not fond of the idea of being used personally. Understand it. Accept it as inevitable, but I was never fond of it. But there are some things that either really can''t be helped, or just go by more efficiently as such.


    Since I was established as old enough to not drown in my infancy, death by sudden unexplainable childhood perhaps, my matches we offered and set like pairings of wine and cheese. Every other year, another match would perhaps come up. Switched or flipped around.


    There was none that were particularly better or worse, simply what, or shall I say who fitted the situation best at the time. Who and their families. What they stood for, What statement we were making.


    Officially on paper, I''ve been ''engaged'' more times than the bullets loaded into the gun hidden on my holster. Something Maria has never been very pleased about.


    Ah, to think I married Maria after all that?


    Leaning back, I feel the warm weight of a horribly laughing child. Pink faced and hair as fading red as an auburn sunset. Only a few minutes of time darker than mine, with curls as well placed as those carefully ironed on a painted porcelain doll.


    Maria coos and fusses over them so. Childishly soft and much looser than her wonderfully whimsical locks in their natural state. It''s been a while since I''ve seen them like that, not till the last month when we were left stranded without all her pretty products.


    No finery, no contact really, unless you count honorable father''s and Gable''s occasional informational portal mirrors. It was....a little too much like our youth.


    And now I feel aged. What utter insanity.


    Before kids, who I once never thought I would have mind you. Before marriage, hell before getting Maria at all.


    Did I marry Maria? What? And I''m not dead and just fantasizing it all in hell? Are we quite sure about that?


    But there is a growing toddler with both our bad habits on my lap and another, entirely different, one on the floor destroying good parchment in her terror making ways. They''re such small and foolish little things.


    Very killable.


    Very soft and crushable little girls. I love them dearly, with more emotions than I thought I could muster for any person really. But they don''t exactly have their mother''s....resilience.


    That''s my fault.


    There''s a disgusting, vile, self-torturing train of thought that is still whispered beyond where all my ears can reach. In their walls and holes. That if ...bred...correctly...honorable father could have had stronger heirs, much stronger grandchildren. Hell, they would have liked more children in the first place. They dare even think about my Maria with their filth in that way. They dare utter damnable things that still grip my mind even though some of their throats I satisfyingly ripped out myself.


    The trachea will do, but it''s best to be thorough. Larynx, thyroid, glands, perhaps even the first rib if feeling up to it. 7 bones, not including the one under the jaw. Fascinating. There''s some much larger species that share the same number, and yet here we are.


    Underneath my fingers sit my Rosa''s vertebrae. I could count right now all her fragile little bones. Count all the ways they could easily snap.


    This world is really too cruel and dangerous. It would be best to dispose of it all really. Only then could my soft delicate girls be truly safe.


    But Maria and her honorable father would never allow it. Who am I to damper their great hunger for life? An empty world...would be cleaner, safer, but it wouldn''t be one worth living in.


    The things we do for our loved ones, the little ones especially.


    Oh god, I have children?


    There are many headaches to live with, and so far I''ve chosen the most intimidatingly insane ones. All three of them. Their names are Maria, Rosalia, and Lilyanne. In that order.


    What have I done?


    I suppose too, the ones that come with them. Unintentionally or not.


    Shame.


    By midnight.


    I''ll sign off on the mission orders by midnight. They can have their damn fun. As long as they take that detestable brat away.


    Even if there''s a good chance of creating another scene. That''s a whole new headache to deal with.


    Well as long as they don''t set that witch Damia''s castle on fire, that''s good enough.


    "Papa! Papa lookie! Lily draw us!" my sweet innocent little block of cheese calls, all the goodness scrapped from this damnable earth condensed into her soft milk bag of a small body.


    My. how precious, it''s hideous.


    "I love it."


    "Yaaaaaay!"


    "Father...is there something wrong with your eyes?! No wait, nevermind. ....There''s a lot wrong with you in general....how did mother marry someone like you in the first place? Not for the hair, I would think? And she doesn''t care for money? That''s stupid. Money makes the world go round. Oh dear, Lily how is it so ugly? You''re.... supposed to be the artistic one...."


    "I absolutely love it." I settle, the final truth of it all.


    At the end of the all days, I love my life here. I love my wife. I love my girls. I, who have no right to say so, love them.


    And that''s enough to not let the world burn.


    Good enough.

 123 Juggle and fetch

    My sister points out in great excitement, getting off her creepy toy stuffed horse. One of those things father nonchalantly bought across windows and displays whenever Lilyanne points and cutely says she want it. We have quite a bit of crap piled up. It can''t be helped that she''s going to grow up rich and spoiled but can she get some better tastes?


    As my young assistant comes in with the rolling breakfast cart, I go back to counting my miscellaneous stack of coins. Separating out the differences between my personal savings and money that''s to be used for investments while sitting crosslegged.


    When an early breakfast is served in the bedroom that means neither father nor mother is around waiting for us to rise and dine. It''s rare, given how sticky mother tends to get or how early father starts his workday, to make time, but it happens.


    "No Lilyanne, that''s not the homewrecker that''s just Georgie." I briefly look up from the bed.


    If it was truly the homewrecker, my immediate response would be to hit and throw with the first thing available. Right now that''s a pillow.


    How comfortable, we can stay rolling around barefoot in our little pajama dresses. Oh ho ho.


    "What''s a homewrecker?" Amar asks, munching on our breakfast.


    Wait.


    "Where did you come from?!!" I fling the pillow.


    "Don''t play around with food!" Georgie yells "you''ll break something!"


    Said pillow is quickly intercepted and rethrown back by my unfaithful assistant. Obviously the culprit in smuggling the mother and breakfast thief under the cart.


    Amar blinks in questioning, spoon in his mouth. It''s a very deadly sort of cute, the kind that seduced my own mother!


    "Home wreaker!" Lilyanne shouts again in dissatisfaction, practicing her new vocabulary. She was right and she would appreciate me knowing it.


    In fact, she forgoes the pillow throwing, like me, entirely, charging like a mad baby bull. Her signature move at this point really.


    Unsurprisingly Amar hits her with a piece of bread. He''s much nicer than Lukas though, barely booping her on the forehead with a brioche, before stuffing half the fluffy bread into her war crying mouth.


    "Don''t bite? Good. "


    Defeated by the power of sweet buttery carbs, my sister plops on the ground. Partly in tantrum defeat, partly to roll around with the deliciousness in her mouth. Mmmm brioches, such soft fancy white bread.


    Like a puppy dog in training, she rolls over and up for torn pieces of bread that Amar tosses. Eventually hopping up to her seat at the little setup table, she''s just missing bark and shake hands.


    I''m almost rolling in shame to be related to her, no matter how cute she is.


    Yep, that''s the Lilyanne I know alright.


    "Where are you going now?" I change topics, putting away the organized money into my purse.


    So Amar''s peasant gear, even in his durable little enchanted weatherproof cloak, stands out more than any wife stealing levels cute of a sailor suit.


    "I''m not supposed to be here," he slurps, not really chewing at his porridge. "Vincent coming to pick me up soon."


    "Yuna coming with him?" Georgie asks, pouring the kid my strawberry milk as he finishes setting the table.


    Breadbasket mostly filled with fat brioches. Sweet and savory jams, bowls of soft spreadable cheese, softly baked egg puddings and filled flaky tarts. Tiny sausages and bit-sized cut fruits. Milk and juice, even my special strawberry mix. A grand spread for small children dining without any adults to impress.


    "Uh huh." Amar nods, still slurping porridge.


    "Got it. Making the take out box full of heavy crap, else he complains like nothing."


    "This was yummy. Thank you." Amar blinks up to Georgie ruffling his hair, before my assistant goes to call on the hotel kitchens.


    That''s when I finally notice it. Not the change in clothes, or that fact that out of everything on this food table Amar still only eats some peasant porridge. But the fat scratch cutting across his cheek, red, splotchy and just healing with fresh scabs.


    Oh the horror, not the face! Not the cute kiddy face!


    "What happened there?" I hop down and over.


    Unlike my sister I cannot be stopped with mere bread, no matter how tasty.


    "Hmm?" the idiot plays dumb.


    "Your face you dum dum! What did you do now?"


    "Um, it''s just a scratch? I was juggling. "


    "....A juggling accident?"


    "Yep."


    He must take me and my sister, hell maybe even Lukas, to be on the same plane of IQ. How insulting. Can''t be helped. Especially when no one tells me anything, ever.


    "What? Were you juggling my father''s bullets?"


    It''s unlikely, a leap of reasoning, but that''s what my brain is telling me. All the parts and pieces long connecting.


    I grab the kid by the chin the back of his head to inspect further. Even though it''s already partly healed and scabbed over it''s not a straight cut. Edges tearing out minutely from the momentum, following a direction. It''s not stippling, but it''s probably a graze made by a firearm by this even pattern tearing, and not a tough knife or even better, a juggling accident.


    I forgot this is probably something girl my age should not know. But I''m Rosalia Ventrella so who cares.


    "I know what bullet wounds look like, idiot."


    Despite my words, and unfortunately humorously high voice, this is not a joke. Even among the richest of the wealthy, it''s difficult to get your hands on a gun, let along quality made ones with accuracy and control. And this kid hasn''t gone much anywhere when in my mother''s claws all of yesterday.


    Where oh where could this have happened, oh I wonder. Who could ever be so merciless as to shoot even a tiny homewrecker?


    Wow. What a mystery.


    "No? Kinda?" the kid half admits,


    He stays very still, treating me as if I were the scary bear to play dead around now. How rude.


    "What''s in the porridge?" I ask, briefly looking down, but still very much inspecting the ''scratch''.


    Kid''s lucky. Father is a sadistic tease but he doesn''t miss easily. Not on unless on purpose.


    "Um....almond milk, ground rice, dates....porridge stuff?... It''s not poison or anything." Amar mumbles out the last part. Then like a child trying to figure out what to say to get into least trouble, he clarifies. " Georgie made it. My mouth still hurts. "


    Only by tasting it myself, Amar doing nothing to stop me, and not falling over foaming at the mouth do I confirm this statement to be truth. And oh is that just delightful!


    Holy moly what''s the recipe in that? It''s so delectably smooth and creamy, and the sweetness of the honey and dates is perfect. Mmmm almond milk you say? Bruet of Almaynne? This is good. Forget the rest of the table. Georgie better be coming back with a pot of this stuff.


    Pudding porridge in one hand. Injured, again, minor hostage in another. What''s your typical villainess of a girl to do?


    "Yummy Rosa?" my sister stares and drools, always wanting my food over hers. Her cheeks still chock full of bread like some human squirrel.


    "But no nom nom big bruder. Lily bite and den other big bruder bite back and Lily owie lots and cry lots and he bite more and ow. Dat a no no."


    Somehow, I understood all that perfectly.


    "Drink your milk and come over here Lily. Yes wash down that...mouth." I encourage, wooing my sister over to the dark si- I mean my side of the table. Right after she stops being a squirrel.


    "And you- stop being shot at and injured all the time." I pull at the minion, avoiding the injured cheek for an ear.


    "I don''t know how?" Amar somewhat reasonably complains, "It''s not like I wanna get hit or hurt."


    "Don''t pull off weird joke or pranks in front of him, like yesterday If my father wanted to actually shoot you dead, you already would be."


    The kid pouts, making a noise of complaint. It sounds very much like "...big funny sore loser" that comes out of his hurting mouth, but for his own fragile life, I won''t comment on that. Besides, it''s absolutely true. The nerd is a big sore loser! I would know best for the suffering he puts me through.


    But I''m still physically his daughter, a toddler still. He''ll never be anywhere near serious on me.


    "I don''t care what weird unfair deal you made with him! Sneak around, eat your poison, I don''t care. But you''re just like, a little squishable ant to him. Tiny! Weak! Super easy it''s not even worth it to crush you. Don''t mess around you brat! " I yell as quietly as I can at him, hoping to get it through Amar''s thick skull.


    It''s a great difficulty to teach when my minion is already brain-damaged so young. It seems to be working, as the boy pouts even more.


    I stay quiet as Lilyanne munches, watching the whole thing with flowery question marks and a growing milk mustache. At most she thinks we''re playing a whispering game without her.


    "Are you done with your milky and napkin Lily? Good girl. Who''s a good girl?! Big sister has something yummy for you. Here Lily, here girl."


    I clap repeatedly, training my sister how to come to me on command. It''s a good thing she''s food motivated. So convenient.


    After rubbing her whole face on a cloth napkin, not yet very lady like, she toddles over to where I have my minion held down. Holding out my hand with an assuring smile, I indicate for her to grasp it. Something she overshoots to go for a great big hug instead.


    It will do for now I suppose.


    "Lily! Did you know we all have special somethings we can do?! Big brother Georgie can make very yummy things, Amar can ...juggle... even big sister has lots of really cool things. But do you know what you can do?"


    "Huggies! Lily gives huggies!" she responds in glee.


    "....."


    "You didn''t call me big brother that time?" the boy looks even sadder.


    "...."


    Fools. All of them.


    Dragging both of them down under the table, I flip the table cloth for privacy against any hidden guards. Who are doing a terrible job by the way if they let a kid sneak in, but hey maybe they''ve also been won over by the cuteness. I mean you gotta sorta like kids if you''re on babysitting watch.


    Nowadays you never know when the secret guards are around!


    "There''s only 2 right now? But they''re not really listening or anything. Ow, my ear."


    "Alright, good heads up." I nod and accept the unasked for answers.


    Also, no one''s ears would hurt if they just followed along like good little minions. Putting on my good big sister face again I clap and pat for Lilyanne to approach, taking my hands.


    "Lily, big sister is going to teach you a very nice thing you can do!"


    "Hold handsies?" she smiles back.


    Oh they''re just so preciously cute when they''re a little stupid. Let''s aim to reduce the stupid to an acceptably adorable amount though. One that doesn''t endanger my life in the future.


    "Part of it!" I make to encourage her, raising her carefully.


    That''s right Lily, rely on big sister more and more. Don''t grow up so uncute and blindly rebellious like last time, so easy for others to trick and fool. It''s also a type of arrogance, a sin, to expect everything to go your way, catered to your little whimsies and wants.


    "You''ve already played this game before with big sister! Sometimes, when you push just right, you can make owies go away. See~"


    I pull over the lab rat. Lilyanne''s only healing experiment thus far now that I think about it. What an honor for such a danger prone child.


    A mob character even. How fortunate.


    "...What''s a mob?" Amar tilts his head the wrong way because I''m definitely pulling now.


    "Lily look! There''s a big owie right here!"


    "Big bruder''s ear owie! We pullie?" Lily happily makes to drag the other side. Maybe being the petty little girl I know now she will never grow out of.


    Ah sorry about that minion. Please think twice before homewrecking someone else''s easy to fool mother from now on. Her sticky daughter and villainous husband won''t let you off so easily next time.


    But surviving mother is also it''s own great accomplishment. I shouldn''t been too hypocritical.


    "Not quite Lilyanne."


    I snap my fingers like a command, prompting her to let go short of dangling off my shaking minion. Taking both her hands again, I hold one out in a familar motion. Hovering it right in from of Amar''s face.


    "Remember Lily? If you push, everyone''s super happy! Look at that owie right there, looks painful right? You can do a very special thing by making that owie...uh better. Maybe not go away but...better. Can you do it with me? "


    She makes a little ooing and gurgling sound, like the incomprehensible small creature that she is. While she doesn''t seem to fully understand she''s generally limp as I move her limbs, and pushes on command just like we''re used to.


    Just like before, her signature lights shine out. Fireflies floating over the gunshot graze, melting on the scratch until it was nothing but soft smooth skin again. Healing the trauma and forming bruises underneath.


    "Look Lily! you''re doing soooooo good. Keep pushing, and you. Raise up your hands, both of them " I order, feeling another source of injury.


    Like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, Amar reluctantly does as told. Boxer bandages not doing all that great job of concealing the minute cuts on his fingers.


    "Don''t tell me, Juggling accident. "


    "Yeah. Kinda?" he looks up, maybe in memory. "It''s hard juggling and dodging at the same time."


    I would think so yes. The little lights melts not only on fingertips but behind the bandages over palms and wrists, indicating some magic healing going on there. At least nothing else seems to be wrong. No broken bones or internal bleeding going on.


    Though, if he was going to be sent off to wherever it is, even father would think it unwise to break too much.


    "No more owies?" my sister asks, voice chipper and excited.


    "Amazing Lily~ Lilyanne is so nice and amazing, remember you can''t just do this for anyone ok Lily. You must ask big sister first and we can fixie the owies for our friends and family" I lavish the praise on here, making her giggly and roll into my arms


    Ah they''re so cute then they''re like this. Unlike this one here.


    "Don''t make this a habit. Lilyanne special skill isn''t free or easy you know?" I follow up, harsh to remind him.


    "Ok. Thank you, you didn''t have to. That''s not why I came over."


    The kid flexes his hands and fingers, confirming all is well. Well almost everything.


    "Open your mouth." I command.


    Despite just doing him another miraculous favor, he resolutely puckers and bites down on his lip, maybe in shame. It''s hard figuring this kid out? They''re just so much easier and cuter then they''re a little stupid.


    All children must lose their baby teeth eventually. You''re like 6! No shame in it happening a bit sooner, accidents happen. Though it is embarrassingly adorable! Teeth gaps! The missing front teeth! I''ve seen it all month!


    Ha! Try smiling without people laughing or cooing at that!


    "Mmmmmpf." Amar shakes his head, whimpering and even daring to slightly glare at me.


    Fine fine, I''ll stop teasing.


    "Come on! Open and let me see. It didn''t fall out normally right? Now it hurts more? You were fine last month" I prod at Amar, still trying to hold his mouth shut.


    "Open." I poke a healed cheek. "Or else I sick my mother on you again."


    "No you won''t. You get mad now? "


    "*gasp* I do not, you take that back."


    Before I could jab at the squishy cheek, something happens. Lilyanne light sputters and sparkles. Popping out like sparklers


    The problem is that it comes from my fingers and not hers.


    In shock I look down on the little heroine, cuddling away in my arms. Then back up to my finger, acting as a sparkler. Down to her, then back up to my outstretched finger.


    "Rosa?" Amar winces, sounding a bit worried, scooting ever away from the sparks attacking his skin. Magical overload imminent now that there''s seemingly nothing else to heal.


    I don''t know what happens when we overload a person, a magic less child none the less, on Lilyanne''s magic. But from the history of exploding objects, I''d rather not find out right now.


    Immediately, for lack of knowing what else to do in this never before seen situation, I push away my sister. Lilyanne landing but a short foot away with a surprised and very displeased plop, the connection cut. Stopping the sparks abruptly.


    Just what was that?


    "Ow Rosa! Dats not nice!" Lilyanne grumbles from the floor.


    It''s not her fault she doesn''t know. She''s only a child, a real one. Only knows what she''s been told, in the limited world around her. She doesn''t know how blessed she is, how abnormal she is. She doesn''t know how I''m not supposed to be able to do that.


    How I''ve never done that, ever.


    "Are you okay? Rosa?"


    "I''m not supposed to....yeah, yeah I''m fine. Are you?"


    "I don''t know? It feels weird...and dizzy?"


    When Amar tries shaking me for a response, it''s with twitching hands. Uncontrollably jittery like how you expect a child on a sugar high to be, or the old me on too much caffeine and too little food. Unnatural and shakey, yet can''t be stopped easily at will.


    I can''t release any more of whatever that was. But it still shocks and scares me, more the unknown of it than anything. Scares me as much as Amar minutely trembles, observing his own limbs like they were alien creatures.


    Lilyanne headbutts into the both of us.


    "No home wrecking Lily!" she declares, quite literally on top of me and this mini dog pile.


    Luckily, the sudden contact prompt no new sparks. No innocent children explode. The table does not topple over our heads, though it might as well with how confused I feel.


    "So, like, is there an official kiddy table down there or am I missing something?" a grumpy voice snipes.


    The table cloth flips up, streaming in light and a strapped leather boot. A young but quite handsome face lazily munching on one of the glazed brioches as he peeks down, eyebrows raised.


    "Oh. Hi Yuna. I feel really funny now. Sorry. Is Vincent waiting? Sorry. " Amar waves from the bottom of the pile, though it''s more like how a cat stretches. Paws useless and shaking.


    Rolling his eyes, the unofficial babysitter number two reaches in to pull every kid out of the pile to rescue Amar. I swear, it''s like he''s the favorite kid and not me, the boss.


    "Home wrecker?" Lilyanne points as Yuna lifts her off.


    "Excuse me?! What did this white bread bun of a brat call me?!" the pretty youngster shrieks.


    "Home wrecker!" she nods and decides cutely.


    "I''ll wreck your-"


    Well, Yuna certainly has the face of one? Ah, the odd things Lilyanne decides to learn. Of all things?


    In the end, no matter what strange things just occurred and will undoubtedly occur in the future, nothing is as bad as Lilyanne. The uh....blissful protagonist and all the fate the follows her. Does aspirin exist in this world? I feel like I''m going to need it.


    Back on the breakfast table Amar still shakes, his hand trying to grasp a nearby milk cup only for it to tremble along with him. His expression more curious than anything, as if he were one big human experiment.


    Actually given that poor kid''s history, that may be exactly what he''s thinking.


    "I''m very sorry. We broke Amar." I admit, gesturing to the child we just gave Parkinson''s, hopefully temporary, too.


    By we, I mean my sister and me of course. I sure didn''t do this alone.


    "I can see that." Yuna grimaces, inspecting the child. "What did you intake now and did you eat anything yet to ride it out?"


    "No poison, we really broke him with uh.....that...." I make little sparkling motions with my hands, hoping to mime it out without saying anything further.


    "Symptoms?" Yuna checks at his reflexes and pupils, Amar being good and complacent with the questions.


    "Um. Like some poisons? But funnier. Feels like too many stimulants? "


    "Upper or downer?"


    "Up. Up feeling. Oh, okay. I know what to do now. I think?" the kid reaches into his pockets, fumbling with a palmful of wax wrapped candies.


    At least I think they''re candies? They certainly look it when he crunches down on a few tiny little black pills the size of fat peppercorns, followed by a cough drop sized yellow one. All before washing it down.


    "Eat more bread and meat. Ride it out. The end." the teen feels at his forehead.


    "...I want rice."


    "Well too bad."


    Yuna dips the brioche in milk, before stuffing it into Amar''s picky mouth, the boy carefully chewing in annoyance.


    They''re treating it as if someone''s had a bit too much to drink. Trying to prevent a hangover than anything actually serious, like overdosing a kid on strange magic! Or poison? I don''t know if that works out the same?


    "Don''t worry about it princess. We''ve been through worse."


    Another piece of soggy dipped bread ends up in my mouth, Yuna boredly looking over as he helps himself to a free continental breakfast.


    "Ah ah, Lily too, ahhhh~" Lilyanne opens wide, a baby bird wanting to be fed.


    "What do I look like?! Huh?!"


    "Ahhhh~ home wrecker nom nom ahhhhh!"


    "Oh my god. Oi brats, is this one always like that?" he throws a whole bun in fear, prompting my sister to chase after it like playing fetch. He even screams when she brings it back.


    There''s a lot going on at any time, so much so I can only mutely nod my head as I chew. Yes, yes she is always like that. We are working on it.


    "Are you sure you going to be ok just like that?" I ask.


    Amar slightly tilts his head up, as if thinking about it. Then nods with the usual little smile on his face. The shaking already lessening, so he no longers look like a sugar high child in place.


    "Told you I don''t know how to not get hits and stuff." he simply says, pulling back the porridge, going for the sweets.


    Across the table Yuna tries throwing three buns of bread in different directions, trying to get my hyperactive little sister away from eating out of his damn hands. So energetic after first waking up.


    There''s a lot of things to ask. Even if the answers aren''t always clear. A meal table always being the best place to try.


    "Where are you guys going now?"


    "Um, east of here. Not really far."


    "Holy shit this girl actually bites?! What the-!!!" Yuna screams in the not so far background.


    "Is it with a lot of the troops or just you boys?"


    "Not really a lot? It''s not big or dangerous. Vincent has to visit Damia at least once because he''s taking over as Darius''s heir now. But it was too busy before. "


    I choke on my milk.


    "What!?"


    "Uh huh, until master Darius recovers? But that''s not happening. "


    There''s milk dripping from my mouth. The slightly shaking brat keeps eating like visiting and subduing his old abusers is nothing. My feral baby sister is trying to bite my screaming second babysitter. And Georgie is walking in at the wrong time.


    "I swear....I leave for just a few minutes..."


    Georgie facepalms, preferring to wallow than actually do anything. Say stop my sister from chasing Yuna around. The younger teen going to hide behind Georgie, screaming for him to turn her off or something.


    "She''s a child. She doesn''t just turn off?!"


    "Yeah well do something, those baby teeth are stronger than they look. Wait...didn''t I leave him alone time to actually talk with....why are you here and not downstairs with Vincent damn it!?


    "Language, there are kids here! You brat, why are you getting mad at me, who packed your damn lunch huh? "


    "Tamera was right....he is pathetic...ow not the earring ow."


    Lilyanne giggles in Georgie''s arm as the older boy scolds Yuna for appropriate language and saying thank you.


    Even without grampa or my parents around, something awful is always going on. From the past to the ever-growing present, all the little details going on with all these people.


    It''s almost impossible to juggle it all, especially when it all adds up.


    "Juggling lots is very hard." Amar agrees, reaching for a breakfast tart. "I have to think about throwing more than catching, so I can''t look down? Or getting the height right for so it balances. I''m not very good so I have to focus lots. It''s scary dropping things. But it''s better than getting a knife through my hands again, fingers and hands always hurt more. "


    "....you didn''t sneak in this morning to eat my food and tell me about juggling did you?"


    "Um, no?" the kid thinks about it, munching as always, before watching the terrible background fighting and finally figuring out just what was it he came here for in the first place.


    "Oh. That boy." Amar remembers out loud.


    "What?"


    "The funny weak one? You can''t ever let Lukas meet him again. That''s what I was going to say."


    "...."


    "We got away with it last year? But it''s bad. I feel bad. I have to go now, so if Lukas sneaks back out and he''s still around, you can''t let him see him."


    "...Ok. But why?"


    I know why. I just don''t know how much Amar knows. Kids are weird, they''re supposed to be wild and rambunctious. When the boys are annoying me with their mischief it''s usually random blabber and terrible misadventures. They don''t go talking about the tragic backstories they aren''t supposed to have.


    "Because. It will make him sad. Really sad. But he''ll do it anyway. " he warns without outrightly saying so, sounding innocent sipping on sweet milk.


    "How does...how does Lukas know? Why is he even trying? What is he even trying?"


    "I don''t know."


    A lie. This little kid knows too much about too many things. It''s honestly quite scary.


    "I don''t know, but Lukas has Gable now. If he tries to find that lady again, he''ll only get sadder."


    "That lady?"


    "He has Gable and Cap now. She put him in a dark box and made people throw him away. She wanted him to die but he didn''t. That lady isn''t his mama. That lady isn''t anything."


    I gulp. Not just from this shocking piece of information, but from the way Amar says it.


    He''s a soft-spoken child, with a pleasant and melodious little boy''s voice. But sometimes, when he speaks like this, speaks of gunshots to his face or Hoody and blood, it''s with such a contrast. Still the same childish voice, and yet...emotionless? Like it''s no big deal, like it happens every other week.


    It''s not even scary like the way children in horror movies are. It''s just ...sad.


    "How do you know this?"


    "Lukas will tell you anything even if you don''t ask." Amar gives me a funny look, one that says he thinks I''m the dumb one for not considering the other boy''s blabbermouth.


    "I know that! It''s just.....so he...wants to find that stupid prince...so he can find his mother?"


    "That person isn''t his mama. She''s too bad."


    Amar says it as simply as he counts numbers. A clean fact.


    The woman that threw away her child like that, has no right to be his mother. That''s what I''m getting from that. The connection cut, as if it could be that easy. As if having a bad mother could really just...disqualify them.


    My own mother wasn''t the best...but I don''t think the ties can be cut just like that.


    "Gable''s watching him...right? He won''t let him see her, any of them, if he could help it. Gable''s strong." and Gable runs away. Is still running from something.


    There a lot of missing pieces to all these stories. There''s still so much going on I don''t know about. In stories that affect me and the ones that don''t.


    Did this life really have to be so realistically complicated? Where''s my cheap cheesy cheat of a life?


    "Yeah but Lukas is Lukas. He does funny things sometimes? Really funny." Amar laughs.


    "Ok that part is true." I sigh, a bad montage of disasters playing from my short term memory.


    From getting us trapped and freed from an actual cave, to making a giant ice barrel to roll down a cliff in. Losing my sister on a goat, getting us chased down by hoards of chickens, squirrels and most recently an 8 legged warthog? I don''t know what ridiculous death traps he''ll put us through next.


    Oh god, just how did anyone have him as a minion? Philippe? How!? A warning would have been helpful?! But no, my memories are apparently limited and even more useless than I thought.


    "Rosa? Lukas is really silly but so are you. In a different way. You''re both too funny sometimes. Lukas says everything he means, even when he doesn''t understand, and that''s a lot. So please watch out and don''t let him be sad like that when he sneaks back with Cap or to your mama."


    Sometimes, as sad and brain-damaged as this kid is, I don''t think he''s really 6 years old. Aiya my head. Someone go invent aspirin.


    "Fine fine, I''ll watch out for when Lukas makes a break for it. Might as well. You two are everywhere now. Ah, but he better not play tricks with my mother like you do or-"


    "You''re funny. Did you get tricked? That''s why your mama likes making you all mad and jealous. You make funny faces. And your papa loses and gets weird? She likes it a lot. "


    Oh. Well....that actually makes a lot of sense. Knowing mother and the strange advice she hears, and misinterprets. Well not like it affects me, only my sister and loser of a father gets anything like jealous. Oh hoho...ah that wasn''t actually very funny.


    "I''m going I''m going, don''t pull my ear off!" Yuna scrambles, suddenly picking up a bread basket in one arm and Amar in another.


    "Not with dirty hair like that you won''t, - oh god why is Amar shaking like some rich woman''s little dog? That''s not how you carry a kid, let alone one that just ate. He''s going to throw up! Give him here. No not the basket, the kid!"


    "For a normie you sure are crazy! Anyone ever tell you''re perfect for the house Ventrella?"


    "You think you can walk away like that?! Maids! Draw the bath! Don''t let that trash-talking blond brat go till he''s sparkling clean and decent! Soap his mouth while you''re at it."


    "You can''t just tell me what to do- wait Amar, where are you going? You''re seriously not siding with him?! Why the hell does Vincent even like- Wait, ack Georgie you turd watch the -ow why do you always go for the ear?"


    "Did no one ever teach you manners?!"


    "More than you!"


    Sitting innocently on the fresh cart behind Georgie is a whole pot of that delectable porridge. Something that would lure away the hearts of all kids and foodies. Its deliciousness perfect to drown out the circus going on around the room.


    My family is surprisingly, and shadily, absent. I have even more things to ask grampa about. I maybe used magic?! My babysitters bickering like a dog fight. I think my sister might actually be a more trainable dog than human at this current point. I still have a stupid fiance and the horrible deepening plot that comes with it. And all my minions are a lot more trouble than they''re worth.


    Great. It''s a lot to juggle, but I''m not Rosalia Ventrella for nothing.


    At least it''s never boring around here. Now pass me a bowl of that good stuff.


    ----

 124 ACT 1- The girls first Opera!

    My parents are disgusting. Pure shamelessly disgusting. They''re like a whole canister of cheap sugar dumped into a decent cup of coffee, completely ruining it in diabetes.


    "Daaaaaarling," mother coos again, nuzzling her head back and forth into father''s chest.


    Curled up in his side over his lap, she cuddles and clings on very much like how a toddler Lilyanne does. Except she''s a shameless grown woman. I can''t even look at her.


    Grander than any king on a treasured throne, my father sits imposingly. Face seemingly expressionless but content enough. The slight quirk of his lip, something I know means he''s quite pleased with himself. His hand mindlessly petting her head as he seems to focus on the music and show below.


    Which is a lie. He''s just that into himself. The horrid fiend.


    Servents line up behind him, fine wine by his side, a beautiful wife that acts more like a spoiled mistress, acting not her age at all. Sprawling in and over his lap like that, like a puppy dog torn between being ''good'' or cutely begging for attention. Her enthusiasm and floating hearts more than making up for his lack of an obvious reaction to her pawing.


    "Love love kyaaa I looooove you darling~ Kyaaaa! " she screams, nuzzling even harder when he graces her with a quick peck.


    I''m going to throw up. Where''s the trash bin?


    I don''t even care if we''re in public anymore. If my parents are going to be this shameless no one will notice the toddler vomiting in the background. The noise they call music playing down below will drown out my retching.


    That''s right. We''re at the Opera house!


    A very inappropriate place for children and public affection, especially both.


    Down below the hard working, though misguided, actors and musicians are grinding their performances. Playing it up all for the amusements and emotions of the audience. People who paid good money to see a show, be entertained, be given an experience! A sight that can''t easily be found just anywhere. One of the real pleasures of a big city.


    And here my gross parents are. Flirting.


    Are they truly a noble married couple with children? Or unrestrained teenagers in the dark movie theatre, fueled by hormones and awfulness? Oh the shame!


    Mother behave!


    Father, stop her already! Make her stop!!! Tell her to sit, behave, put on a shawl!? Oh the shame. You know better?!!


    Normally it''s father that puts a stop to all displays of public affection, but the fiend has been increasingly bold and merciless with his teasing as of late. Still, this is just too much.


    Maybe this doesn''t count enough as public?


    Perfect for disgusting couples!


    "Lookie at funny hat man! Heehee. Very fat lady. Oh! Mama Papa wat dat?! Ooooooh. Oh Lily wanna peepee now."


    And families with loud children I guess.


    With barely a glance from father''s eyes, a pair of maid steps up to carry Lilyanne from her seat.


    There, my chance!


    "I gotta go too!" I pipe up, ready to do anything to escape the vicinity.


    Georgie is being a very bad attendant. In fact, he''s been ignoring my pain and groans of second-hand embarrassment the whole time. Eyes glued down to the strange opera show below, munching on mixed nuts and rice crackers like it was popcorn.


    "I said...I must visit the little girl''s powder room." I enunciate again.


    Surrounded by his superiors, and of course the Lord and Lady of the house, he cannot mistreat me like a brat to be babysat like he usually does. If I say it''s go time, so be it!


    The day after the homewrecking incident my parents didn''t show their faces till dinnertime, and they''ve been extra gross ever since! It was so dangerous that I''ve had to tie up Lily every time she tries looking to sleep with mother.


    No! No no no. No going near the parentals bedroom suite! Not anymore!


    If they''re this bad in public, I just can''t risk any of their private spaces.


    I''m seriously going to be sick just by breathing the same air that they''ve polluted. Too much exposure and I will likely die from second-hand embarrassment.


    Reluctantly Georgie gets up from his seat behind mine, to escort my escape. Like a good assistant should.


    "Right at the good part..." he sighs.


    Once we passed the black space of the curtains, another area for privacy and soundproofing, I try making a real break for it. If not for the Georgie and the waiting maids, three of them, who have escorted us.


    "That is not the way to the nearest chamber station my young miss." calmy states the eldest tallest maid of the bunch. One who I suspect is really a secret guard in a disguised dress.


    It''s a little hard to tell them apart in their outerwear headscarves and coverings, looking a bit like informal nuns. But I''m pretty sure she''s wearing armor or something down there and those are leather gloves underneath the sleeves. Lady''s dresses just have a lot of hiding potential.


    I would know.


    "Yeah Rosa, the ...powder room, isn''t that way." Georgie teases.


    Flanked by the other two maids, demurely and properly nodding their heads low, he gives a very mean girl''s impression. It''s amazing how much that suits him.


    "Fine. Lead the way." I relent.


    Together the mean girls'' squad escorts my sister and me safely, and without any trouble. It''s almost as if they''re guarding against our escape than any outside forces. Specifically me.


    How rude.


    Other than the nursery assigned maids I''m not trying to make anyone''s jobs much harder. On the contrary. At home, I''ve wasted my own very precious time to improve everyone''s work and living standards.


    Cleanliness with soaps, butter churners turned washing machines, the distribution of employee education, local public transportation, better food. Lots of wonderful delicious food being created.


    And what thanks do I get? Being treated like a little convicted criminal. Oh for shame.


    The ladies'' powder room is well lit and even more well perfumed. Given that many ladies have pages, stewards, even guards following them around, men are allowed in with a separate waiting section.


    If Georgie so wishes he may sit back, relax, and pour himself some very diluted wine left out in pitchers for the servants.


    One door past and there are the dressing and powder rooms. The scent of perfume and Potpourri growing only stronger. Flowers, both fresh and dried, decorate the space meant for feminine audience goers on the upper floors. Here women may touch up their make up, perhaps change gowns, anything their delicate little whims desires in the dark privacies of womankind.


    Behind that, are seemingly empty rooms. The furniture sparse and a large cabinet holding fine, beautifully painted even porcelain.


    If I had come fresh from the modern times, with no cursed memories or special knowledge, I might think it quite odd. Why would anyone place their good china here? Dishes? Pitchers? What are they doing here?


    But I''m not. It''s a commode.


    A.k.a. the cabinet of chamberpots. Pots of piss, or more if need be. The toilet sets and all the extra accessories, of course. We''re in the VIP ''powder room''! Everything is clean, spacious and pristine, even if the plumbing is not a thing. Why there''s even an ''out'' cabinet, meant for a lady''s maid to, uh...place the dirty toilet set after they''re all good and finished.


    Just put it there and slam the door. Pretend it doesn''t exist, until the cleanup staff who probably don''t get paid enough comes to do their rounds. Please do not lift the lids, I promise it is not a roast or a casserole or anything like that.


    I would like to complain about all modern movies and comics for not including these ... glamorous details.


    You know it''s not much different than a toddler''s trainee potty. Except for the fact they don''t really make children''s sizes. Thus the need for help. God damn it, can''t even use the restroom by myself out here.


    15 troublesome minutes later, Lilyanne and I are finished with business and washing our hands in fancy perfumed water running in tiny ornate fountains. The use of magic stones compensating in some aspects of modern life, but obviously not all of it.


    "I don''t know about you but I don''t really wanna go back." I splash at my little sister.


    She too seems more amused to be playing in the sink than sitting through the terrible show. My parents I mean. The innocent musicians and actors, as strange as their performance to my senses are, have no faults there.


    "Yaya! Let''s play!" she cheers, splashing quite loudly. So much so the water easily drenches up to her shoulders.


    "Oh no. Lily''s dress has gotten so wet." I monotonously start, "Oh no, it sure would be awful, and very very fun, if she went for a swim."


    "Swimmy? Swimmy scary." Lilyanne answers back, probably remembering the last time we had adventures in a fountain.


    "But this one is so much smaller and shorter. You won''t swallow any water if you stand up and or hold big sister''s hands. Not unless you open your mouth and start chugging."


    "Swimmy lessons? Today? Yaaaaay!"


    "That would be inadvisable my young ladies."


    Suddenly the maids have us picked up in fluffy towels, legs floating in the air. One girl per maid. The tall fake maid doesn''t even open her eyes, head slightly bowed as she gestures for them to come along and carry us out.


    Once again my excuses stopped before they even started.


    In the waiting room, Georgie fakes being a little lord. Hair gelled back in my pomade wax, waistcoat and tie in my designs, and sneering down on who? Their creator! Oh ho ho getting arrogant now are we?!


    "I knew you would try something." he pinches at my cheeks.


    "I haven''t done a thing." I say quite honestly.


    "Not yet. Only because we''re watching out. Now come on."


    "No. I quite refuse to go through such suffering. It''s practically, no it is legitimately child abuse to force Lily and me to witness such a horrid thing."


    "....the show wasn''t that bad?!"


    "I meant my body''s gross birth givers. The incubator and donor!!"


    He takes a deep breath, gesturing for the maids to release my sister and I back on the ground. Something my sister takes to mean she''s free to run around in a circle, or a square. That''s more the shape of the room.


    "My young mistress Rosalia, the mouthy, Therese Ventrella. You know you could just call them ...oh I don''t know...Lilyanne what would you, a good three year old child, call YOUR PARENTS?


    "Home wrecker!" my sister answers, arms raised in glee.


    He takes an even bigger calming breath, silently considering the diluted free wine. But good tastes, due to me spoiling him, makes him decide against it.


    "You were saying, Georgie?"


    "....crazies, you''re all terrible and crazy."


    "How dare you. Like a good aide, you should at least pretend to mollify your mistress in front of her face. I shall deduct your beauty bonuses for this week."


    "Oh no. Whatever shall I do without you rubbing my face off?"


    "It''s called exfoliation! I''m only rubbing your excess skin off!"


    "There is no excess skin. That''s my skin! It doesn''t come off!!"


    "Shhhhh. Actually it does~ All the time. Now shhhhhh. You''re too youthful and turning out beautifully for early stress lines."


    "....did you just threaten to skin me alive, again?"


    "Ow ow owwww my cheeks!"


    Never before in all of Rosalia''s life have I ever faced having such an unruly servant in my household. As I have genuinely advised, they would at least wait till they think I''m out of hearing distance to start shit talking me behind my back. On the front face, a good servant must always appear respectful, reverent even if not fearing for their lives.


    Which is why I suppose I''m stuck with Georgie.


    He''s a little plain. No special skillsets, no great physical strength, no magic, honestly not a lot of potentials there even with training. He''s a nice boy, I guess, but a pretty normal one.


    I suppose that suits me better.


    If only I was a main character sort of person. I could wait around and ''save'' some extremely handsome foreign almost OP guy with a rippling 6pack or something to make into my personal eye candy servant and kinda bodyguard. Who may be shallowly in love with me as his mistress but knows it was never meant to be, so he holds back his pathetic feelings unhealthily. Yet he can''t stop his desperately misdirected feelings of affection due to being touch starved and emotionally constipated. Thus swearing eternal loyalty and devotion to the idea of me, his white moonlight, all his life. Suffering silently while handling everything from the not so shadows as I densely frolic off for a brainless and a toy crown.


    Damn it Lilyanne.


    Some girls just have all the ....luck? Trouble? Both?


    She had like, a little over a handful of harem boys with that kinda backstory. I don''t know the official number! There wasn''t exactly a roster and sign-in sheet on the Lilyanne reverse harem fan club.


    I had to make my own, rank them and it kept updating every week. Ridiculous. The things I do to keep that girl safe.


    After all, you never know when a fanboy goes off the rails. Some very overly privileged and stupid men in this era. They don''t take rejection very reasonably and therapy and widespread accountability isn''t exactly a thing around here.


    Right now that oblivious female lead, the flower on the cliff to legions of hearts, is running around a couch laughing her head off.


    Oh she''s tripped! And she''s back up to giggle and run some more, the maids lightly clapping and cheering her progress in running circles. At least she''s stretching her legs?


    I''m so glad she''s only three because that shit gets really bad in about 10 or so years.


    The gods of this world are unfair. Without doing anything, simply existing long enough, ''great'', and very stupid, capture target worthy men will simply flock to her side. Without lifting a finger, love, reverence, and respect all come her way. Okay, maybe not that last part.


    Meanwhile, I get cheek pulled! By Georgie!


    "Wow, my stress is going down just like this! My young mistress is simply amazing! What great stored fats you have?! Such soooooft skin!"


    "Unhand me, my face is not for squishing."


    "My my my it is as soft as yeasted dough. What they say is right, after all, you are what you eat. And my young miss is full of squishy goodness. Honeybuns. Brioche loaves. Pizza. Pudding. Hmmm. "


    My poor face. This is simply child abuse. Also, stop talking I''m getting hungry.


    "Look Rosa-"


    "You''re not giving muuuuuch choice here."


    Patting my mochi cheeks with some rose water and lotion, Georgie releases me just barely.


    "Now listen, Rosa, I get it. We all do. Small children just aren''t ready to appreciate the finer things in life. "


    "I am full of finery, excuse you. I, Rosalia, am made of fine expensive things. "


    "Of course little princess complainy, of course. But operas and such shows are not for small kids and I don''t know why people bother bringing them? You''re bored out of your mind and your little legs are restless from sitting still. I mean just look."


    Despite the very badly influenced insult, that I see he''s picked up. How dare Yuna and Georgie agree on such a terrible mockery, of all the things the babysitters agree on. I see the point of the rest of this statement. Kids just aren''t meant for public shows. The opera or a ballet especially.


    Something can be beautiful and you still just won''t like it.


    That and kids get restless easy.


    Which is probably what my sister feels, having given up running to hop on the cushions. The maids still falsely clapping and cheering her on for doing ...nothing. Well, at least she''s getting all that hyper energy out.


    Even without the gross situation that is my daily life with a lovey-dovey couple, I would like to stretch my legs. I''m a human child, not a ball-jointed wooden doll. All the physical functions, and defects, of a real child, come with it.


    "So, since it must be very hard for our tiny and cute little mistresses."


    "You''re really pushing it, Georgie."


    "Especially young miss Rosalia, we shall allow you about 10 minutes to run around free in the waiting room. Followed by a snack. Then we can return to our seats."


    ".....I shall accept the snack immediately. I will simply take a long time to eat!"


    "Yes yes, as do all children. But first."


    Georgie gestures to my blessed beautiful little sister, hopping from one sofa to another. A maid playing dead on the sofa. Another playing damsel in distress on another sofa. Even the secret guard half lays on an ottoman, play-acting.


    The problem is they''re all doing it emotionlessly monotone. The acting is so terrible it''s actually good in some comedic parody way.


    "My lady. Please. You must.. cough cough, go on without me. Go."


    "Noooooooo Matilda!!!"


    "Oh cough cough cough. I am melting. Good. Bye. Cruel world."


    "Lily savie you!"


    "No.... The holy grail. You must. Cough blood splurt splurt. You must save the wooooorld. Takes last breath and dies."


    You know Matilda? Usually, people don''t say their actions and stage directions out loud. You physically pretend to cough, not say ''cough cough cough''. The maid ''crying'' for help is doing it with a dead fish-eyed look and sounds like a bad recording. Honestly, the best actress is the one playing dead. She''s doing a wonderful job just lying there.


    "Actually I think I like this play better." I decide.


    "It''s actually not so bad." Georgie agrees with me, handing me back my purse.


    After the short show of Lilyanne saving the ''world'' by finally reaching a bowl of potpourri and bringing everyone back to life by throwing it over them, we can move on to snack time.


    Now that there''s no perceived risk of us running off, especially not with food on the line, Lilyanne and I are allowed to walk on our own two feet. All the way to the bar lounge.


    Children? At the bar?


    Well, it''s honestly no big deal when it''s more a lounge than anything. Not like anyone is here to stop us.


    During intermission or after the show, this place will be filled with people. Sipping on their spirits, having a bit of refreshment and conversation over a light and overpriced meal perhaps.


    But right now it''s as empty as a private VIP club. Just the way a lady like me deserves.


    "A private table?" the host at a podium asks, leaning us pass the stylized bars to the seats.


    "We won''t take long," Georgie replies "our young misses do need to get back to the Lord and Lady but, you know how little ones get."


    "But of course. We offer a nursery section if so needed. "


    While the waiter behind him lists off the nursery corner like it''s a coat rack for rich ppl to leave their fussy kids, I take up a very tall seat and try to read the menu. Might as well enjoy some local fine rip-offs. Hmmm what''s special around here?


    "Georgie, I''d like a pitcher of the red currant juice. The lamb shank polenta. The tripe wrapped white asparagus. A truffle risotto. Lastly, a seared bone-in steak, served blue. "


    "Cheesiest!"


    "And a seasonal cheese and fruit tart for the child. Does anyone else want something? "


    The young waiter behind the mustached host drops his tray along with his jaw. How unprofessional. At least he shut up about throwing me into the nursery.


    "Ahahahahha! Uh good job!!!Our young miss ordered wonderfully! Sounds soooooo grown up because you practiced sooooo hard?! She did wonderfully right!?!" Georgie clamors about like a sweating fool.


    Like a bad comedy, the maids start lightly clapping like an audience laugh track. Nodding along in rhythm with empty praises towards me before saying what''s really in their hearts.


    "Vino Blanco. Veloute de Chataignes , substitute the toasts for crepes."


    "The house risotto and la coteletto. House vino"


    "A clotted cream aperitivo and the vitello tonnato on the side.


    No shame nor hesitation in placing their orders, all on my parents'' dime. What maids would dare! Aha! More evidence they''re fake maids. That or very unconventional ones after staying with my mother for too long.


    Maybe my family in general....


    Number one is foreign! Her accent in ordering what is essentially silky french chestnut cream soup impeccable. Unfortunately, that''s just Vedette and we all know Father hired her from across the borders to help mother practice...many things. Very dainty and ladylike. Probably not a secret guard if she somehow kept it a secret from the original for all those years.


    Sure she was almost convicted of murdering her husband back there at age 17 but in these times, that''s so many women. Old news.


    Number two''s order is protein and carbs focused! The mushroom melody risotto, the veal cutlets battered and deep-fried with hearty sides. It''s so much heavy food! No ordinary maid could handle it! Isnada has a younger face but I bet she''s packing some heavy-hitting muscles down there! Her frame much heavier but does not jiggle, I can only tell there''s a lower strong core to her. A very reasonable mid-level chance she''s a guard in disguise!


    Last but not least Matilda! My topmost likely to be a secret guard in disguise.


    Who honestly ordered a very light and common cocktail and nibbles. A lovely choice on the chilled veal in tuna caper sauce, it''s wonderfully in season BUT I don''t yet know what suspicious conclusions I can make from that. I know the truth is out there!!!


    I''m doing detective work. Ohohohoho.


    Also, Georgie are you quite done?


    ".....that will be all. " he sighs.


    Oh it''s so hard being a toddler. No one takes you seriously if you''re not stupid and cute.


    "Ahem, right away. Please forgive the improper display, he''s new. What a wonderfully well spoken young miss this household has raised. The Lord and Lady must be very proud." the host respectfully bows, subtly kicking the waiter to get on with the orders.


    Immediately the experienced old host acts getting our comfort and orders assured. Though he does not know exactly which house from which we hail. The middle-aged man clearly understands we''re extremely wealthy and powerful to have such confident tasteful maids and an educated small young lady.


    It will be quite a long while to train Abbey up to even barely acceptable standards for public appearances. But I suppose there''s something charming about her sincerity, clumsy as it may be.


    Like Georgie, I suppose it suits me better. It will do for now.


    Right now the lounge and much space everywhere are quite empty. Of course, there are a few people passing for whatever reason, much like in any theater during showtime. Some servants running errands. A child here or there with their nanny that also needed a potty break. That kinda creepy old man at the bar drinking down lime cocktails like they were going out of fashion. A giggling young couple hurriedly rushing out downstairs to their carriage outside, all over each other in a way that''s hardly gross compared to my own parents.


    So much to see in a theater, quite entertaining.


    While I do find it odd that downstairs patrons, most likely well off commoners in the cheaper audience seats, would waste their time and money leaving halfway, who can control such matters?


    A theater date gone right too soon? Is someone getting lucky tonight? Oh youth. How illicitly scandalous. Oh ho ho ho~


    But the food comes one after another and I very thoroughly distracted. Oh boy, supper snacks!


    Georgie and I spent an indecent amount of time tasting and analyzing our plates. Something we immediately share. He may complain a lot but I know his tastebuds! As he does mine, it''s his duty as my jr. chef.


    Luckily we''re quite compatible as chef and mistress if anything.


    Ordering a lot to share and try is the fun of eating out. I haven''t been able to do that much...at all. Not in this life.


    But prior to the whole getting poofed into another world baby, I loved eating out! I had platinum status on my dining out apps! My scathing reviews were highly followed even more so than my good ones. I had a deliciously earned reputation and the freebies that came with it!


    While I had little problems dragging along someone to eat with me, after all, who says no to good food, in the last couple of years ...before that whole dying thing, I would say my MVP partner in foodie crime was....my project manager? Along with my coworkers, if they were around?


    Damn work really did take over my life.


    Not like I had much of one anyway. I probably would have just lugged along someone from the old bar. In the end, everything sources back to a place of work. A little depressing.


    Bossman for tasting drinks. Someone else for cheaper drinks. All you can eat, family dinners all over the place, the newbies, even all the times I ended up just taking out J.J. Ah I spoiled that kid too much when he was young.


    So clingy?


    At work, despite the whole age and superior power difference, constant late deadline scolding, and ever-present pressure of juggling projects, Yao and I were really compatible happy hour and take out buddies.


    Also sometimes a girl just needs to get her grilled intestines and chicken feet dim sum cravings down without judgment. Chinese food for life. Eat everything. Absolutely everything. Great food culture I came from, might have impacted me for live...or lives.


    Ah good meals though, especially during happy hour. So many yummy things to try on the company''s time and dime. Not a bad partner in crime to have.


    I think he would have liked all this, anyone would. Italian food is also extremely tasty. Especially the expensive stuff, mmmmm.


    "Georgie.... this truffle is passable."


    "It''s so simple but for the blend of cheese...I could do a better job myself...but so good....this stupid mushroom."


    "We should make our own when the prime season hits! Did you know we can use Amar''s nose as a truffle pig? We could gather so many."


    What?! What is that disapproving look for? It''s an opportunity that shouldn''t be wasted!


    Perhaps we stare a little too longingly at Isnada''s meat cutlet until finally she gives up and cuts us a piece.


    Mmmm! Cotlleta is so good! A seemingly fancy thinner version of a beloved dish in my memory that many people love.


    Katsu!


    It''s a type of veal Katsu! A somewhat familiar texture and taste, but an entirely different eating experience. So tasty! I''m glad that across time and space, humanity has figured out they like tenderized meat, breadcrumb coated, and fried to juicy crispy perfection.


    My manager liked katsu. My brother liked katsu. Jung-Joon liked katsu rice. Man why was it so popular? The magic of fried foods? Practically everyone liked katsu.


    "Yummy Rosa?" my sister drools, staring at how Georgie and I squeal and crunch down. The poor maid staring down at her diminishing meat plate with dead fish eyes.


    We ended up ordering another plate of cotletta. Everyone just likes breaded and fried chops ok!


    It was honestly a pleasant enough time, avoiding going back to my awful horrible immensely disgusting par-


    "Hey! You!"


    I would like to return to my precious parents and their familial affections now. Let''s go.


    But it''s too late. The maids have grabbed me once again before I could make a run for it. Bowing low they all greet....the stupid prince.


    At the opera hall, a chance meeting. A royal prince in all his evening finery, with his impressive entourage, suddenly running into his fated lady and her painfully dying sister.


    Except add in the tiny detail that we''re tinier kids, and that entourage is the maids and nannies accompanying said kids on their potty breaks!


    Just throw me off the balcony. Do it. I can survive. I''ve been through worse falls. Just fling me away from here.


    "What are you doing here!?" the little prince of rocks and stupidity toddles up to us, ignoring his train of maids right behind.


    Why I''m here for a public swim and to apply for a job in the kitchens. See I was inspired by the taste of veal cutlets and No! Why ever would anyone be at the opera during a show?!


    The oh so wise young prince is dressed in, what I must say, is the stupidest puffy sleeves and capelet. Why are you even wearing a little cape? We''re indoors? His hair behind the feathered fluffy hat is slicked back so much with wax that it looks like he''s a tight eyed bald baby. Making his fat white bulging cheeks even more prominent. When he walks, it makes the click-clack sound of tiny little heels, probably giving him a greater height advantage if I were on the ground.


    "His royal highness, Prince Erik Wief Hohenstaufen Heinrich, has graced your party with a question." an impudent maid speaks up.


    Slap her. Go on fake maids, and Vedette, go slap her silly.


    But they are not mind readers and even if I did say that out loud they would not do so.


    As the eldest senior in the party, Matilda curtsies and answers properly on our behalf. The standard procedures blah blah blah. Behind the stupid prince, his maids give a tense cold stare off. I''m sure there''s a maid battle going on. The realistic thinly veiled with words kind, not the sexy slapping kind.


    "Why are you out! Are you feeling better? Don''t go out if you''re sick, stay inside and be healthy enough to grow up!"


    The silent maid battle flies over the arrogant little prince''s head, despite his high heels.


    "...." I look over to Georgie, eyes imploring for help.


    It would be unwise to uh be myself in this situation. Should I play like I''m dying again?


    "Who dat?! Hi hi! I''m Lily! And dit is my Rosa! We likey cheese. " Lilyanne swings her feet in Isnada''s hold, waving her little hands in hello. Taking over the situation naturally.


    Wait...she doesn''t remember him. At all?!


    Wow, this love story is going great. Where''s my rice cracker popcorn?


    "You don''t know who I am?!" points the prince, exclaiming in kiddy indignation.


    "Hmmmm ummmm....home wrecker!" Lilyanne caws out, her new favorite word apparently.


    "What?!! No, we met before!"


    "Home wrecker?! Dis one has fat funny hat, funny hat heehee. "


    "How-how dare you-"


    "Aaaand faaat face like fat lady. Heee hee. Oh. Ohhhhh not home wrecker. Ohhhh. "


    Turning to me she nods in understanding and her own conclusions. The mystery of her developing mind making all sorts of new connections I never could have conceived.


    "Big bruders Amar and Yuna are home wreckers." she purposefully tilts her head as she cutely frames her face with her hands. The angelic face imitating both named boys in their own way, from Amar''s sleepy smile to Yuna''s grumpy pout. Not bad for her age. All before turning truly sour. "Hmmmm big bruder owie Lukas too," she growls as if remembering her own mother being stolen.


    The wound still too fresh I see.


    I have nothing to say to that, so I simply smile and nod at her in praise. Good Lilyanne. Let''s not like boys. Yes, boys are gross and dirty and if you dare pick up a harem I shall sick father on you. That should help deter things.


    "Wh-what?!!! Who are those!? The...But I- I- I''m a bigger better homewrecker!" the ugliest dressed prince trembles, not understanding a thing but not taking well to being ignored.


    "Nooooooooooo" Lily points back and over to Georgie, "bigger homewrecker! Much bigger. You a funny egg head, heeehee, fat lady face. "


    Amazing.


    Sister dear I do so love you, as silly as you are. We''re working on it in general but please keep antagonizing your beloved stupid prince.


    Bowed on the sidelines Georgie returns my look with a pleading one of his own. He didn''t expect to be named, let alone like that. Now the tiny royal angrily pouts, stomping his foot as he glares into Georgie''s direction.


    Why didn''t we escape faster earlier? Why? His blank brown eyes tell me he wasn''t expecting anything like this and now he knows.


    "You! Lowly serf! Don''t think just becuase you''re a big kid that....OH! I challenge you to duel for the honor of who is the bigger homewrecker! I, prince Er-Aaack!"


    While dashing prince Erik continues to own himself bigger than any fool on stage, the dark silent aura of his governess comes up to wack him in the back of the neck into silence and submission.


    Good. Because I was going to order Georgie to slap him maid style.


    "It appears, the children are simply too excited to play." she coldly excuses, catching the dizzy prince, her face porcelain and stone.


    "Yes. Tis the nature of children. " Matilda agrees.


    "Can''t be helped."


    "So rambunctious."


    "We bid thee a pleasant evening."


    "And to thee."


    Every maid reciting the general agreement in various tones of voice.


    Like a showdown stalemate, they curtsy and breeze past each other. Backs straight, skirts, scarves, and jewels flashing in the silent battle that all women know too well. Even Georgie gets in on the fun! Left-right left right and hiiiips, pose!


    They must walk and strut very carefully. One wrong move and it very well could end up in a show worthy mean girls maid fight.


    But that doesn''t happen. Slapping fights don''t happen every day, shame.


    "Bu-but -" the stupid prince tries putting up a fight as his governess carries him away. If I bothered looking behind me I might even see sad blue eyes staring as his lost baby lady love. Too bad, so sad.


    "Lilyanne....do you remember that one?"


    "Ummmm, dat Isnada!" she points up to the maid carrying her. Eyes expectant at me to praise her for getting the answer right.


    Good enough.


    It''s more than expected, that if not present or seen in a regular sense, a small child would easily forget things or people. The boy who ''played'' with crabs and her a year ago is completely wiped out. Even if this terrible tragic comedy is inevitable in the long term, for now they know nothing. And there''s little to no Prince Erik in Lilyanne''s innocent mind.


    "Lily...there''s no need to remember the fatty egg head ok? "


    "Heeehee the big fat pretty lady sing laaaaaaa hoooooolaaalala!~"


    "Yes. Yes that is...uh, exactly how the opera singer went. Wonderful job Lily. But try words next?"


    "Laaaalaaaa~ Singy a song dat we don''t know, let''s sing it...ummmmaahhhhhhhhhhhh an oooooooo!"


    It''s ''let''s sing it high and sing it low'', that what I tried teaching her for vocal control. Ah my poor ears.


    In the future, Lilyanne''s voice is most closely labeled as a soprano. Her harp wasn''t her only instrument. A voice like the calling of angels, so the masses praised. A siren of purity yet borderline temptation the fanboys described.


    Oh cringe much?


    Now don''t get me wrong, she made a wonderful soprano. Would not fail any choir auditions, especially with lungs stronger than you expect from her weak frame. But anything really special? Hmmm my modern senses say no


    These people have never heard of oh say any internationally renowned pop or rock star, ever? Talk to me when someone starts bopping. They don''t make much music out of common tone or scores?!


    Hell, the piano hasn''t even been invented, thus why I am trapped with the trashcan torture that is the harpsichord.


    I have been forced to start practicing again. Ugh awful.


    At least I don''t sing and dance on command like the trained monkey that is my sister. Puppy? When do I get a human to deal with? Do I have to wait till she''s...5? Puberty?


    While I was deep in thought, the maids and Georgie carrying us back to the auditorium, a strange commotion started going on. Theatre employees were rushing out and around as if a mass fire had erupted, which it didn''t. No smoke or anything of the sort. But a mass panic none the less. With the audience still all inside, none the wiser.


    "She couldn''t have gotten far! Find her! Find her!!!"


    Some angry authoritative figures, panicking backstage employees, a missing girl. Can it be? A runaway actress?!


    "But they''ve stolen the 8 horse rider carriage!"


    "How would you all let them?!"


    "The next act begins in 13 minutes sir! What do we do?!"


    "The understudy! Where is she?!"


    "That was the understudy! The prima donna has laryngitis!"


    "The under understudy!"


    "Does that position even exist?"


    "Cursed couple. Oh love simply ruins everything!!!"


    Amen sister. Or whoever said that.


    On the sidelines, our little party has taken a step back to avoid the commotion. All for safety of course. We''re not shamelessly eavesdropping or anything.


    Oh who am I kidding? This is great!


    "Georgie, I have decided I much prefer this show."


    "You know.....it''s a horrible thing to happen of course!....And actually not all that bad."


    He is tempted. Sorely tempted in the same vein that ignores me to watch funky operas and dramatizes things to the point the Rosalia Translation Filter System has to come in to play. In a way he''s no better than the gossipy young maids back at home. It just needs to be good gossip and oh boy, isn''t this just exciting?


    "When the pathway clears, we shall escort the young ladies back." Matilda says, eyes not even open.


    "Awwww. Booo." I express.


    "Well, I guess that''s that." Georgie reluctantly goes along with it, his duties and orders more important than the great show going on outside the theatre hall.


    Well until then, we can watch a bit longer. It really is a better show.


    I wonder what shall happen to the eloping understudy? Or what the panicking staff and theater directer will do in say a little over 10 minutes. Problem. Inetensifer. Plots, oh all the makings of a decent story. Bravo real life, bravo.


    But the climax of this tale has yet to come. Not without....


    "Bwahahahahaha! You think you can just leave like that! With some wet eared nobody! I made you Mia! You''re mine Mia! Always mine!!!"


    Out of nowhere, the bar lounge we were previously dining at erupts in a mild but dramatic explosion of chairs and tables. The creepy drunk old man laughing manically on the balcony.


    Then real crashing explosions come. An 8 horse chariot sized one, running through the grand front doors! Great screaming coming from not only surprised staffed all around but the supposed ''Mia'', trapped in the carriage as it rides through the hall and drops down the stairs underground. Crazed old man jumping down the grand staircase to ride the tails of it.


    Oh great effects. The drama! The intrigue! The pizzazz. Now this is theater!


    I am so entertained right now.


    "So um, I don''t think the way will clear anytime soon?" I pipe up to everyone''s silent stares at the new and improved stage.


    Great first Act everyone. I look forward to Act 2 and the ending of this story. Highly rated. The food was pretty decent too. Other guests, meh. 4.5/5 stars everyone.

 125 Intermission & ACT 2

    Dig dig diggity dig. A short little child was digging very very hard. Furrowed in concentration, distracted from the world, he was doing very good job of manual labor.


    "Should we uh...tell him that''s endless?" questioned a deep but ultimately unsure voice.


    "No. Let him tire himself out." huffed out a much more tired sounding man.


    From behind a grove of, not exactly, artificial trees in the underground garden space, the two men were doing typical yard work and gardening.


    Oh well.....Sure some of these plants and specimens were far from typical, deadly even. But they got some pots, lands plots, and even a well controlled green house. It was a yard? ....For them.


    The problem with any sort of garden environment no matter how magically controlled were pests, insects, and yes even children. Children always had a way of messing things up. Specifically small hyperactive ones, even worse if nature decided to bless them with enhanced anything, let alone strength.


    They should have been used to it and in a way there were. Already raised one of those up. Now she was up and out of the hole, with her wings and home. Even a child, and a kind of child, of her own.


    But somehow, like expected, they were still fumbling with this learning curve thing.


    "We can let him play in plot Beta-L?"


    "And if he digs too far into zone K?"


    ".....ehhh."


    "That''s either a lot of dead mandrake roots or a very heavily crying Lukas when his small eardrums burst."


    "Well, if he can survive the skull tubers and the carnivorous tuba..."


    "None of those screams...as much. And no. "


    It takes a particular pitch of soundwaves to break even glass, and their greenhouse was anything but ordinary weak if pretty glass. While everything was generally pretty solid and safe, didn''t mean it was entirely childproof. There were messes to clean up and bandages to apply, maybe on themselves.


    "I just think we can put all the digging to good use...."


    Gable gave Ron a glare at the start of the sentence as if daring him to complete his statement. It had little nothing to do with the whole ''let''s train and make use of small innocent power drills of children'' and more of ''God damn it Ron we have no more play plots of land to let him go wild on and this is definitely your fault'' kind of message being drilled by that glare.


    "Ok ok ok fine, I just feel bad for the kiddo. He''s going nowhere when he thinks it''s somewhere." Ron sighed.


    Gable hardly raised an eyebrow, setting out to replant the pot in his hands. Without even lifting his head from the nighttime garden work, his voice carried through the space. Forcibly shouting.


    "Lukas! Do you want to give up and go to bed yet?!"


    Before he thought that was just limited to Ron, maybe yelling at him from across a battle field. Someone who was already a difficult child and never quite grew out of it like oh say everyone else in the damn world.


    Everyone grew up. Everyone had their roles and positions to play in the game of life. Everyone but god damn Ronald Ventrella. Gable felt he was going to meet his early death by overexposure from the other man over the years. The stress, the yelling ....a lot of yelling, utter property and network destruction.


    But then it got quiet.


    Too quiet.


    "Nooooooooooo waaaaaaaaaay!!! Heros don''t quit and so won''t Iiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!" screamed back a high pitch voice, both disturbing and reassuring Gable''s thoughts.


    It was so pitching loud it was scaring away all the pet birds they kept to maintain the underground garden''s ecosystem. But the birds could fly away and back, what''s important was Lukas.


    "Grand! Tell us when you give up!" Gable replied.


    "Caaaaaaaaap! Tell Gable I won''t!" the boy echoed back.


    It was quite the opposite of too quiet now. No peace and quiet ever again, nope.


    Oddly Gable was alright with that. Much more alright than he would have expected from himself. It was ...a very quiet time then. When Ron disappeared.


    So quiet that Gable couldn''t take it. He wasn''t as calm or capable as everyone thought. It was only by having that colossal fool under his foot, by his side, that he looked like a barely decent person in comparison. Especially back then. It was awful.


    So awful that Gable was the one who took the initiative to ruin absolutely everything.


    His life. His power and position. His family and wife. All his responsibilities, everything he had ever worked for and done ''right''. Just wrecked it all by his damn lonesome.


    Couldn''t even blame Ron for any of it, since the fuckard just wasn''t there.


    But no, Gable didn''t have the habit of shifting blame and that''s why he was so damn harsh. On others and on himself.


    Destroying everything to run off into hermitdom, that was all him.


    It was too quiet in all the wrong ways. Until he got away, until he ruined everything, he couldn''t even breathe. Even then, deep down, under the veil of a functioning person, he had no regrets for leaving.


    If there was no chaos around it seemed he would make his own. Ironic.


    "Gaaaaabe, where do you want the giant rolling moss balls?" asked chaos.


    "...Ron. Those aren''t even supposed to be out of freezing water?!"


    "Oh well...oops. I thought they made great chairs. So squishy."


    "They''re an endangered sensitive species?! Native to exactly one lake! One lake Ron!"


    "I put the bubble wrap cover on!"


    Then like some cosmic balance, chaos and order was restored. Right when Gable made his peace in his isolation. Settled with it and every the terrible decisions he had ever made, everything he had gained in peace and would never get back...all the lost noise came crashing back with resounding force.


    With it came the baby.


    What a shell shocked surprise that had been. An explosive chain reaction that Gable didn''t know how to react too but ultimately kept him from closing his doors on the other man. Babies were absurdly small and delicate. She could so easily have suddenly died being lugged around by that, handsome, rugged fool.


    All his anger and frustration towards the other man wasn''t gone, far be it, but he was very distracted constantly getting heart attacks over dangerous acts of childcare.


    And that was how Gable lost the next two decades of his life, his entire young adulthood really, to the moving wreck that was Ronald and his little Maria.


    Wonderful. Moving on.


    "Oooops!!! Cap! Gable! I broke the shovel! Sorry! Oh and my hand!"


    "You did what?! Tell me you didn''t."


    Gable felt his temples throb, dropping the pot and running over the very safe loophole space of what Ron called, the never ending soup bowl of dirt.


    Great naming senses. Never let Ron, or any of his family members, even the blasted in law, name anything. It was for the best.


    This really wasn''t Gable had in mind for the whole ''moving on'' thing.


    Somehow, against all odds, they kept one innocent child from dying in her crib and raising her all the way to adulthood.


    Another one, a somehow more hyperactive one, was not supposed to appear. They were supposed to be done with this whole kids things. One of them even became a grandfather. Get that, sit back and relax. Be done with kids. Weren''t really cut out for it in the first place.


    Not get another one.


    "Ok! I didn''t! But it really is broken and stuff because I''m over here but my hand is up over there! I''m not giving up! But this isn''t my fault so it didn''t count and stuff. Can we put it back on? " Lukas exclaimed, sounding as mildly putt off as if his shoe and socks come undone again and he needed help tying it back on.


    Something Gable is still unsure how that happens. How does anyone lose their socks so much?


    "What?!"


    Gable does not scream. But he does scold and pull Ron along because god damn it this was partly his fault somehow he just knew it.


    He does find Lukas as the bottom of the fake shallow hole, body in one place, hand and half a shovel cleanly in another. At the scattered sight, both men sigh a great breath of relief.


    "Oh thank god." the only responsible parent feels himself relax entirely to Ron''s bubbling laughter.


    "Ahahahahah! It''s just the soup bowl hourglass ends got skewed! Ahahaha! Ah, Lukas was fine he wasn''t screaming in any pain, Gabe. Pootatoes is extremely vocal, like a real man! We''d know immediately if Lukipukiwuki was in any trouble he couldn''t handle."


    "...don''t call him that. Any of that! And get down there and fix this"


    "Wait!" screamed out the small child."Does that mean if I stick my head in this funny glowing hole here it will go off just like my hand?! Cool!"


    "Lukas no. Don''t just- .....Damn it Ron get down there and pull him out of that thing!"


    "Yes Gabe."


    "Cool! My hand is back and I''m half a boy! Wait no two boys but half, now I''m extra strong! Oh but I don''t have legs now. Hey can I move them still like this?!"


    "....."


    "Well Lukypoo, because you moved, this is going to take a bit longer to pull you back to normal. Just gotta align the portal points and, Lukas legs wait no don''t run off like that! Ahahaha! They''re so stubby! Ahahaha!" the broad man still laughed.


    "....."


    "Ahhhh Gabbey, Gable, Gable - don''t be mad. I can fix this. Don''t-"


    It took over half an hour, and a crying spanked half of Lukas, to finally puzzle piece the fidgety child back together. He was never in any danger of staying separated like a spill of body parts, but it was quite difficult getting him to stay still in just the right spot to undo the mistake.


    Surprise surprise catching the bottom half of Lukas was just as still as awful, if not more traumatizing. Or hilarious, as Ron puts it.


    When he was one little boy again, he really was quite the sight.


    Even a bit dusty, he was ultimately a soft and very unfairly lovable looking baby. There was a very solid reason why women coo and kiss over him. The main reason why their Maria seemed to lose her sanity to rampage on a hugging spree sometimes.


    In the darkened lights imitating the night sky Lukas''s hair looked almost otherworldly white, as if he didn''t already resemble enough of a snow sprite. Bright clear eyes, too large for his head and high delicate features, with somewhat resemblance to Gable''s own, still immature and cushioned by rolls of soft childish fats.


    It was almost as if some hidden race of magical baking tree gnomes rolled him out of the densest buttery pie dough, much like making a round little snowman, and then breathed him to jolly life by steam baking. Dusted on with snowy powdered sugar and lion berry jam for color on his apple pink cheeks, the barest of strawberry freckles sprinkled across, Lukas was in every sense, a very sweet little thing.


    A very impossible chance with Gable''s family history. No one in his bloodline was that softly pleasant, even as an infant. He felt himself grimace just thinking about it.


    Did he burn those old portraits to ashes right? No one liked embarrassing images of their youth but his own brought a shameful soul ending cringe.


    The House of Weif was not a very....relaxed one.


    None of them could smile like a sunny warm spell in the middle of winter, or laugh like an earthquake cracking the ice till avalanches buried them all. They weren''t as tender as freshly boiled gnocchi, a just baked peeled potato smeared with butter, the bursting fluff of a fat steaming Dampfnudel smothered in the richest gravies, creams, or sweetened dressings.


    Oh by the curses of the fae, Ron''s awful nickname was right.


    "My rump roast feels hot enough to be cooked." sniffs the child, crystal tears drying on his stubborn little face as his soft chubby arms clung onto Gable''s neck.


    "That''s one way of saying it." Gable does not share back how his hand stings.


    Definitely not his heart. He would prefer not to have such a weak one thank you very much.


    He swears he never had to punish Maria in such anywhere near as much a state. She usually stopped, heeled and sat on command pretty quickly?


    Though that could just be because he left the corporal punishment to Ronald to actually parent, as he should. He''s absolutely sure Ron wussed out on any spankings, it was quite hard to lay a hand, even for discipline, on a young little lady. More likely the fool of a father would have just chased her around a pack of ravenous wild chickens until she learned her lesson and called it a day.


    That worked for a good four or years until the chickens established her as Alpha, on the top of the pecking order.


    The craziest father and contending worst grandfather in all the realms was right now on all portal fixing duty. They needed that never-ending soup bowl of dirt so bad. So damn bad. Please, Gable doesn''t know where else to tire this dumping of a boy out without causing mass destruction or a loss of something''s life and home.


    They don''t know how long it will take before their chickens stop attacking and start accepting Lukas as one of their ranks, so he needs to time out the punishments and distractions well.


    "Gable? Am I in trouble for breaking something? Sorry I broke the thing, but I don''t know what it was I broke, but I still broke it so sorry." the boy nuzzles into the crook of his neck, still hanging on tight despite Gable''s steady hold bringing him up the stairs.


    "No. No you''re not in trouble, wasn''t your fault...but that''s very good of you."


    The boy nods, squishing his tender white cheek against Gable. Despite his age of about 6, he now gave off the slight scent of comforting children''s milk, along with the fresh air and grass he was rolling around in.


    "Amar says I should say just sorry when I think I maybe did something that makes others mad and that will fix things 9 times outta 11! Even if I didn''t think I did anything, what others think are different."


    "That correct yes," Gable nods along to the ramblings. It was how the child expressed himself and learned about the world. As loud and seemingly never out of breath the boy got, Gable would never silence his voice.


    "Rosa says I have to pay rat-a-button if I break stuff, that meant I have to pay money or stuff, and that sounds about right because that''s what Phillipe said too and that I owed him and people lots of ''debby'' or something. "


    "....a debt is it..."


    "But Amar explained that I could pay them back in big rocks instead of money or favors because rich people really love big rocks. Especially if I throw them! So we did! That was fun! But then more things broke....I can''t stop because everything falls to funny bits so easy in my hands and I don''t know why. The weak kids and grown ups don''t do that."


    "That''s...good...and how do those...weak... other ones react? To you?"


    "Sometimes they yell lots. Or call me stuff I don''t know yet. But I know and like the word monster! It sounds strong and cool! But I gotta get better at not breaking other people''s stuff because if someone breaks my stuff that''s makes me sad and mad. Or smad!"


    "...smad."


    "Sad and mad together makes smad. Like potatoes and molasses makes potasses! When I smash the word bacon on anything Rosa says I should call it bae with an E! Bae! Bae pizza. Bae cake. Bae that owie curry, and that sounds like hurry because I gotta hurry to poop after I eat too much."


    "...wonderful insight Lukas."


    Gable would like to think he''s doing a wonderful job trying, key world trying, to understand all that Lukas has to offer him. Much better than your average reclusive hermit, especially at his age.


    But he''s very grateful for the times all the little monsters are together, and not getting lost somewhere causing mayhem. They bring a lot of insight at their levels. Or act as a translation stone to further his honestly lacking fluency in small children speak.


    Rosalia being the most obvious.


    She told things as they were, the situation as obvious as what happened. The dirty and the gritty that flies over Lukas'' innocent, blessedly and unreasonably still innocent, head. She was blunt and biasedly honest to all that would listen. For some strange reason, Gable was deemed worthy. It was always an honor to be liked by a child, the opinions pure and from the heart. Something the stubborn little soul was quite in denial of for whatever reason.


    Gable blamed Ron more than enough for too many things, so he''ll just but this of Frederick. Even as a boy, he always had personality problems. Gable of all people knew that growing up didn''t inherently solve any of it all.


    Something else rang in his experiences senses, that while Rosalia was could play wise and honest to others, she was having quite the trouble facing anything to do with her own reflection.


    That there was more than just a bit of biased thinking going on. An entire misunderstanding, no quite possibly many misunderstanding in her little head. Now that was very Maria of her.


    It appeared, that the child either was blissfully oblivious or willingly chose not to see a lot of things in front of her. But place it on someone else''s shoulder''s and she''ll hiss like a threatened young predator. Because that''s exactly what she is, try as she might hang to the hazy illusion of mental age. Young and wet behind the ears, while the weight of the memories may follow heavy, so does all the waves of being a child.


    You can''t go back, unless you were those two. But you can''t speed up time either.


    Everyone had to grow up in their own time. Without the pressure to rush. Like livestock to the market, meat to the slaughter. It did them no good.


    "Whatcha thinking about now Gable?!" the boy his arms smacked at his temple, more trying to rub Gable''s face in his hands than do any harm.


    "....how you kids try to grow up too fast."


    "Oh! That! That''s because there''s lots of cool stuff we wanna do that only we can do! And you wanna play too but you''re too tall now. "


    "...."


    "That''s ok! Grown ups are allowed in more places and stuff to play, but you all act like you can''t play. That''s dumb, you can play lots more than me. So I just wanna play with what I can before I can''t no more because growing up made me stupid. I''m growing lots real fast right? I''m definitely stronger."


    When Lukas exclaims that last part he pats at his belly with a satisfied drumming, looking particularly silly. While he was in a healthy weight range Lukas had the soft slightly protruding belly that many young children did. He patten it with glee, glad for all the yummy things that now goes into it.


    In fact, Gable would prefer he put on some more weight, more strength to grow. All while carefully watching to make for the child''s previously lacking and unbalanced diet.


    Afterall, this was a child without a mother or father. Without anyone since the start. His early foundation left much to be desired, despite how healthy the child seemed now. They had a lot of work to do to make up for what those first few years did to his growing system.


    "Yes. Yes, you''re definitely growing. Horizontally." Gable nodded, playing along to not laugh. Trying not to sigh out loud in relief.


    Another child might not have made it through what he did. No chance of survival, let along recovering. That was saying something.


    "Oh I know that word, it means like the sun space when it rises or sets!"


    "Not quite Lukas. It''s a line that goes sideways. Sometimes the skyline is called the horizon."


    "Almost! I guess pretty good. Amar pointed it to me last I asked!"


    "He''s a quieter boy."


    "Noooooo, I don''t now why people say that. Amar talks a lot and a lot and it goes everywhere and we have lots of fun and nothing he says is too hard for me to understand even if he knows a lot because Rosa says some really funny things. She likes sounding like a grown-up! Don''t tell her but I think she''s doing very a bad job of it."


    He won''t but Gable can imagine the reaction.


    While Rosalia was good at telling the situation methodically, in great detail, and occasionally revealing the warnings of what was the come, "spoilers" she so called them, it was Amar that actually understood things as they were.


    It was as innate as it was a skill.


    ''Sometimes when Lukas says one thing, he actually means to connect it to three other things that happened to him before. But he doesn''t know how to say it right for you.''


    ''When Lukas says he''s too big or heroic for something, that means he''s scared but embarrassed about it. If he''s too big, then it can''t be scary like before. But that doesn''t work.''


    ''When the lights are off, open the door, if the door is closed, turn on the lights. Talk to him, he''s not used to hearing voices in the dark.''


    Those were among the little things that quiet boy counted out to him, before and after he took Lukas in. On that very first day, and slowly over time. Amar was only quiet at first as if judging you were worth any of his precious words, and then he was like any other blabbering child.


    Again, an honor.


    But that one...had already grown up too much, too fast.


    As if the counter to Lukas, his current health was deplorable. But the foundation was excellent. Carefully nurtured and raised. Though there was poison in his veins, the roots were stronger than any high house''s pampered little heir hopefuls, fed on potent elixirs and powerful treasures their whole young lives.


    Knowing where he escaped from, that was most likely the case.


    The boy has known hardships of course, there was no room for that argument. Along with the gross overdoses he''s been nutritionally deficient for a long period of time, not just simply unbalanced like Lukas was when Gable first met him. But his body, while so much smaller and frailer, clearly had a much stronger start. The natural position resistance working in tandem with whatever was fed and worked into him.


    With a side dish of poisons.


    "Gaaaalbe I don''t want another bath!" Lukas complained, unaware of the running thoughts Gable poured over as he took them from the hidden space to the bath. Physically filling up half the tub at the same time.


    "A quick clean up. It will help you sleep better." he coaxed gently.


    "But baaaaath-."


    "Baths are a good thing. So is you not tracking anything through my floors or on any clean surface."


    "But cap-"


    "He does not count and can be thrown out of my house at any moment. Now. Do you want to be thrown out by chimney? Or shall we get you clean, make sure all hands and tummies are connected right, and some bedtime milk and crackers?"


    Lukas seems to consider it, for a part of him really did enjoy running like a wild animal under the moonlight. Felt like something cool strong boys would do. But against Gable''s gently undressing and the promise of warm milk and crackers, something he really can''t get in the wild, that''s what he goes for.


    "Alright! But you have to eat with me too. Otherwise, it doesn''t taste right!"


    "Hmmm, how so." Gable distracts the boy with talking, lifting and rinsing him in the warm soapy water. Careful to avoid the tearfully stinging eyes but filthy spots behind the ears and under tiny nails.


    "Tastes too quiet. You don''t like that taste either right Gable? Tastes worse than Caps cooking, and that''s saying a lot! Did I say that right?"


    "....yeah.Yeah Lukas, that is saying a lot."


    "You know....you can call me Lookiepookiedookie or whatever all the fun stuff Cap does too. If you wanna. A hero supposed to have lots of titles!"


    "...I don''t know how...heroic the name ''Poo-tatos'' is."


    "Oh that one! I like that one a lot! It''s potatoes but funnier, haha poooootatos. Haha hah!"


    "....I see....I''m too late."


    "Wait wait wait if I get to be potatoes, and that''s awesome, and Rosa get called pumpkin lots, then what''s Amar? I don''t think there''s a lot of veggies that are as small as Amar?! Hmmmmm."


    "Don''t think too hard about it Lukas."


    Gable knows how the children easily missed this fact of their little friend, how specifically picky he was. The small boy only accepting things that were either very good for him, or horribly bad.


    Awful standards. Ones that could easily lead to another dead child to bury in an unmarked grave.


    It was hard enough to lay their soldiers to rest. Harder when there was no body to bury. But it was nothing compared to the hope, the living.


    Gable hopes that little boy, the one who giggles on bathroom jokes with Lukas, likes sitting on the balloon flying high, and selectively picks at his meal plates, flicking off food to the others when no one''s looking, doesn''t dig around any further. Doesn''t keep looking. He hopes Frederick knows what he''s doing.


    He can hope, but he knows how damn hard it is to keep a child from wondering.


    Drying off Lukas wasn''t hard, the normally playful child already feeling the pull of sleep. Strength worn out from all that exhausting play. Just like any other normal child his age.


    "Gable?" Lukas yawns into the towel.


    "Yes." Gable pats, already maneuvering those soft dough like limbs into his little sleeping clothes. Hardly sized up since Gable had them made.


    Children grew fast but this one had a long ways to go.


    "If I really try hard enough, not just with digging, I can go to her and save em. Right?" the boy fell into his arms again, speaking against his neck.


    "....who."


    An answer Gable doesn''t really want to hear. Doesn''t want to face.


    "The crying lady."


    It''s not what he was expecting but he dreads it none the less.


    "There''s a crying lady. With fancy bread colored hair and some very ugly hands, they''re all skinny and got no cool battle scars or anything like you or Cap or anyone awesome. But she''s always crying in her hands and I can''t see her very clearly."


    "...Just a bad dream Lukas. There....are many sad and downtrodden sorts of people on this good earth."


    "Yep yep it''s a very bad dream. Because then it all goes dark and she stops crying. Stop everything. And it all goes dark and quiet. And I start crying for lots and lots and it''s really scary because it''s so dark. And I scream and cry for a very very very long time and it stays really really really dark and cold and it stays that way for almost forever!"


    "It didn''t. I know baby, I know. It wasn''t, it won''t happen ever again."


    "But it does! Every time it gets too dark it feels like that and I see it but I can''t hear anything ever. If I didn''t cry then I hear nothing at all. Nothing and no one!"


    "It''s okay now Lukas, it''s okay."


    "Nuh uh. I got out the box!"


    "....yes?"


    "And the crying lady still in it!"


    "..."


    "It''s a very very scary place Gable! I gotta get her out too. But it''s really scary so I have to bring lots of lights. I hope I haves enoughs."


    "..."


    "We can make more. Don''t be scared Gable, we can make lots more lights. And noise! I won''t let it eat you. Oh eat! We have my dippy crackers and milk now?! That will make you feel lots better before bed, just like me. Don''t you wanna grow big and strong like me? Come on. Gabbey? I''m getting sleeeepy."


    Eventually, they do get their warm milk and snack, though a little too late. But it took Ron to bring it up, find them there curled up, and to untangle and tuck Lukas into a proper bed. Gable was very busy on this bathroom floor thank you very much.


    Ron tucks him in too, despite his dismissal, all without a single world or taunt.


    Somehow, it wasn''t too quiet at all.


    -----------


    -----


    ---


    ---


    ------


    ------------


    ACT II:


    Previously, on the most interesting evening performance of my very short life:


    My parents were disgusting.


    My mother''s current maids escorting us are probably secret guards. Except for Vedette. I believe in you Vedette, innocent until proven guilty. Even then the bastard probably had it coming.


    Georgie is a little too mean girls. Who does he think he is?!


    Supper was great. We all like katsu cutlets- er I mean cotleta.


    The stupid prince is here in the building, somewhere, unfortunately.


    And most importantly of all, an eloping couple turned out to be the understudy Mia who is due on stage in but a few minutes. She''s back alright, to the staff''s relief, but in a burning loose carriage controlled by a very crazy drunk man who claims her as "his". Not to the staff''s relief.


    Now they''ve ridden off somewhere downstairs and we''re going to find out what happens next.


    Let''s get on with it!


    I suspect the reason why no one has come running out or noticed the much better show going on outside is due to all the buffer space and magical soundproofing. An appreciated part of any finely built theater. Kudos there.


    The main hall is a mess of some debris and whatever the carriage ran over on its way. A few pieces of furniture overturn if not simply thrown down by that the insane drunkard.


    Who I must say is faaaaaaar too old for this Mia girl. Creepy much?


    But the disgust does not overwhelm the intrigue. I must see this show through the end.


    "Oh no. Oh my. What a bad, scary, possibly very dangerous thing to happen. Everyone is so in daaanger. If only there was some super strong someone to saaaave the day." I recite, hands up to me face in mock shock.


    All three maids return my expectant looks with professionally calm and very expressionless ones of their own.


    "What if I look away?" I make to close my sister''s eyes.


    "Miiiiiia! Fret not, for it is I! Fabio! I''m coming Mia! Do not give in!" rides in a sexy young man on what appears to be an old mule covered in flour. How unexpectedly comedic!


    I dare say ''sexy'' for this young man has flowing hair and a half ripped costume shirt. Physique wise, meh but hey not an unpleasant overall package for a cheap unexpected male lead. He''s even carrying a skinny but pretty sword for a final showdown on his ridiculously tight pants. Are those leather? How do those not rip?


    Yes, all the formulas for a good show.


    Good thing I covered up Lilyanne''s eyes. Hey, wait now who''s covering up my eyes?! Georgie? I was watching that!


    "Alright.... I think we can all agree that first thing first, is to get the young miss somewhere safe." my young assistant ignores my clawing and complaints. Addressing the maids while firmly covering my eyeballs.


    "No, I want to know what happens!"


    In the dark, I hear them muttering the pros and cons of rejoining my parents in the viewing box or just getting a carriage to express deliver us straight out of here. All of them terrible ideas for I don''t get to see my show.


    With nothing but my other senses, I must piece together the story in bits and pieces. Oh if only there were some screaming actors practically narrate the entire scene for me.


    "It''s terrible! The carriage lot has been completely compromised!"


    "They ran over Jimminy!"


    "So like not to be rude or anything but like I broke my nail in the door explosion thing."


    "The audience has been taken hostage from underground, and no one knows! Keep calm I say. Keep CALM!"


    "7 minutes!"


    "They''ve activated the flame effects sir."


    "Doooo Reeee miiiii faaaa soooo laa tiii doooo~"


    "I''m pretty sure the janitor could wear those pants better than Fabio. He just doesn''t keep up on leg day, you know? It''s so uneven."


    "Mama mia that''s a fine spaghetti!"


    Nevermind. This listening only show just is not working out? I''m so very confused, even more so than when all this started.


    "Pardon me. Where do innocent bystanders go?" I hear Georgie''s voice ask.


    I suppose it''s too much to ask for to get some good seats to the show underground.


    "CAN''T YOU SEE WE''RE BUSY!? You can just go straight to he--eeelllo. Why uh I mean, right this way~" a man''s voice suddenly changes "Please excuse our mess, you know, actors."


    Um that doesn''t sound very safe.


    When I can see again, Georgie gathers both Lilyanne and I up in his arms. As weak as they look, he is a cook and can handle our weights the same he can handle baking bread, lofting pots and roasts, or flipping up a heave pan.


    But where did the maids go?


    I swear all the good pivotal parts happen off-screen where I''m blocked and can''t see. Bet they''re having some real fun where all the action is.


    While here I am getting carried back into the auditorium area. Georgie following behind a not at all suspicious character in very poofy shorts and bright ballet tights. I''m getting very bad feeling about following this clown into the dark. That''s just a general no no, ever!


    "Georgie, I don''t think this is safe."


    "My young Miss, if anything dares comes to harm you there will be a lot to pay for from your family. I think we''ll be fine. I spoke to the manager."


    "...."


    "Rosa? Scary?" Lilyanne clutches to me. The like darkness of the tunnel taking seemingly too long to walk through.


    I don''t think we''re being led back to the audience.


    "Hey what are you doing? Only crew can be back here, what are you doing letting these kids in?"


    The tunnel opens up....to the backstage dressing room! Oh my, now we''re getting the backstage VIP tour. This has truly been the most random evening in my short life.


    "You fool. Look at the big picture!"


    "What?"


    "Call make up, call whoever we can! We have another Mia! A younger and prettier one!"


    "What where stupid? All I see is some kids and their very male butleeeerrr, err oh. Oh! Why hello there. This just might work. Hey, there don''t be shy. We just have a little itty bitty favor to ask."


    At this point Georgie had woken up the stupidity of his actions, inching us back out the door. The dawning and predating looks that the two men and slowly approaching staff giving me the impression of getting trapped in a lion''s den.


    An old woman in the back is getting a chair and long haired wig ready. Two assistants giggle madly in relief as they pick and pull dressed and woman''s lingerie out.


    I think I see their plan.


    "What do you want with my servant?" I demand, probably not looking very intimidating at all. But hey work with what you got. All I got is this spoiled rich girl card.


    "Do anything bad to him or make my sister cry and I''ll tell my papa on you. You can''t afford to make him mad. That''s not even touching on my mother. "


    My adorable little threats get a few chuckles. The staff surrounding us even further despite some women chastising the men for being creepy.


    "We''re not bad people or anything. Don''t be scared." broadly smiles the second man we saw.


    "Oh this is why you''re backstage so much, no seriously you''re scaring them." the old woman intervenes, "A bit of pinch we in, if the little lasses could juuuust sit right down here and you, oh youth! Oh what''s your name darling, oh your skin is like a fine glove. We just need a little stand in, a moment of your time."


    "You really have the wrong person," Georgie shakes, getting his face groped.


    As Georgie''s young miss, it is my duty to see to him and his affairs. From his safety to ensuring he''s not bullied, after all a good mistress must protect her people.


    But I am only three years old. Who am I to stop an entire production crew from dressing my fair little assistant up as a woman? A beautiful one I hope?


    Oh forgive me Georgie. I hear you screaming but I am simply too small and weak to do a thing. Believe me, I am just as terrified as you are. Absolutely shaking.


    Oh no no no not the hot pink dress, that won''t suit him at all!


    Go for the pure and innocent look, something refreshing. Really highlight that skincare and beauty I worked so hard on. Soft, flowing. Not a too fancy wig, too old too much. We want to make him look more natural, something like....every young man''s first love! Yes. What a concept.


    "Rosalia! You evil little brat! Stop encouraging them! Ahhhh!!!" he screams, getting buried in a flurry of hands and make up.


    "Hurry hurry there''s not much time."


    "Oh such soft cheeks and lips! Is this really a young male?"


    "There be reasons why some men be bent, like em over women, and I see it."


    "Stuff that padding in good! He should at least look like a woman from afar!"


    I''m missing a very exciting showdown below but it can''t be helped. Perhaps the secret guards are handling it now? But as compensation, I get to see all my hard work bloom in such unexpected ways. The makeup crew marvels how soft his skin is to the touch, so smooth and flawless without any foundation at all.


    I wonder how I can use this to promote demand for my products?


    Oh, what a lovely young woman my little aide is becoming through all his perilous screaming. A little too thick on the defining makeup but lovely none the less, it is theater after all. There might even be some misguided young men the audience that might just fall in love with him on stage. Oh ho ho ho~


    "Let me go! I really can''t do this?! I can''t be your stand in!" he cries, looking like a delicate and half-crazed flower.


    Hmmm we have to work on his personality and acting chops. That''s not how a heroine should be.


    "Oh please kind sir, you''re our only hope."


    "Just stand there and walk to where you''re lead! And move your mouth, someone will sing behind backstage for you!"


    "Follow the cues! And you''re on, you''re on! Raise the curtains at the count of 10!"


    Still unwilling, Georgie goes kicking and screaming the whole way. The entirety of the cast and crew scrambling to get in all their places, and entirely forgetting about the two little girls they left stuck back here.


    "Rosa?" my sister turns to me, wide eyes and sparkling "pretty princess?!" she points to where Georgie was just forced to sit and transform.


    "Yes Lilyanne, everyone can turn into a pretty princess." I nod solemnly.


    "Ooooooohhhhhh!!!!" she cheers excitedly.


    With no one to stop us, we hop off to inspect the ware. Though I am very careful not to let Lilyanne touch the make up. It was very interesting to examine what''s used around here but you never know how safe that stuff is, even if it''s the theater costume stuff.


    Instead, she plays with shimmery fake hair and hilariously fake fat jewels. Something a wealthy little young miss like her as never seen before.


    It''s a mildly amusing time but really I want to go watch my Georgie debut, performing like a star. So after dressing up Lilyanne''s hair just a bit more, I take her hand to go walk and peek from the side stage.


    That is until I heard some wretched screaming. Courtesy of Georgie of course. Only this time it was truly enraged and helpless.


    "Come on Lily, I think Georgie''s rally in trouble this time." I pull, picking up the pace.


    I wish I could describe what the play, let alone this part of the act was about. But it''s in separate stories and honestly very confusing for someone not watching the majority of it. All I can make of it, were the actors in their strange ensemble, dancing around in a big circle. Flames, ones I suspect are very real, all around them.


    In the middle of it Georgie, in full hair, dress and make up, plays a damsel in distress. An inner circle lifting him up to be presented like a virgin sacrifice.


    That''s probably the plot yeah.


    "But halt. " sang a fake three headed man in one suit, "thee tho thum my domain now and this one is to devours thine one oh fair maiden. By bread or bone, with relish, as I please all thought the-"


    "Stop with the bad acting and innuendos. Just shut up and get me out of here! You''re wasting time!" Georgie threw a shoe at the ''giant'' completely improvising at this point.


    The sudden comedy makes the audience roar with laughter.


    The crew really did pick the wrong boy to play up on their stage. Still, he''s quite popular. The more Georgie rages and acts out of character, completely yelling over the bad lip-syncing opera lady off stage, the more the audience eats it up.


    He slaps at each of their faces, then throws his other lady''s shoe for good measure. Huffing to clamor down and escape.


    But the awful ''giant'' catches him by the waist throwing him over with some awful lines. Who writes these things?


    "Oh for fuck''s sake."


    Georgie looks done, so damn done to all the audience roaring and whistles. He rips off the wig, possibly along with a few strands of his own hair. Then reaches into the dress to pull out the fake boobs, one by one.


    It''s the funniest strip show the audience has seen.


    " I''m not even the girl you want! She''s downstairs getting kidnapped and fought over my some other weirdos! I''m not even a girl! THEY!" he angrily points to the dancing actors "dragged me here and stuffed a dress on me! I''m a man see, a man!"


    The audience seems to think it''s all part of the show, clapping and whistling below.


    Young and sweet, only 16. Georgie starts ripping at the top of the dress as if that would prove himself. Unaware of how scandalous his bare shoulders and smooth flat chest look through the filly material. It''s inappropriate! He''s a minor!


    "Well," agrees all three heads on the ''giant'', "You certainly are not a fair....MAID....but by grand jury this one has decided...we shall accept you anyways."


    "WHAT?!! NO! Get me off this thing! Get your nasty heads away from me!"


    Sexual harassment is a big no-no, at any age. But this is especially indecent. I aim and throw a shoe aim the ''giant''.


    When it hits and bounces off, even from off stage, the audience simply loses it.


    Pleased with the results, I reach into my purse and the surrounding props to throw more random things. Ah those practice sessions with Tamera has really improved my strength. Let''s aim for some pain!


    My little act, and the now comedic show, was going along well enough. Georgie making eye contact to know how to well book it, though not without a few more quick acts of violence. Then storms his way off stage. Now so bad.


    "Homewrecker!"


    If not for Lilyanne....who has run out to the stage.


    With a little hand and her little shoe, she runs up close and throws to smack the 3 actors. Officially slaying the ''beast'' as well as the audience.


    She has also slain our lives.


    My parents are watching this. They''re out there, in their gross balcony nest, witnessing everything. And now somehow their precious pampered overprotected daughter is the center stage view....of everyone. Sure no one knows who she is, a cute little girl, but my parents know.


    Oh we are so dead.


    Okay, breathe Rosa girl, breathe. We have a survival contingency plan to work on. Immediately.


    I could wait for this all the blow over and appeal for their forgiveness? The likelihood of surviving that? Not high.


    I could, call and order Lilyanne to run back here? But she''s very preoccupied calling people homewrecker in public. There''s still the explanation I have to give out on how she got up here in the first place.


    I can go up on stage myself to drag her down. Which is a great risk to myself, because then mother and father will absolutely know I''m involved. Why do that to myself? But if I do nothing, they''ll blame me for not taking care of Lilyanne.


    In such a situation, one can only go so boldly stupid it just might work.


    I look around frantically, trying to find that horrible thing I need. There''s the orchestra pit but that''s too crowded and confused in the turn in events. The current backstage staff either shelled shocked or running like chickens with their heads cut off.


    There! In one of the darkened wings left stage!


    Underneath curtains and people''s legs, I run and roll. Making my way to the dreaded instrument placed on an island of the stage. There''s no microphone to turn on, to locks to undo, I just need to climb up to the chair at the right height. No lights, and hopefully it remains that way.


    The chair isn''t high enough, so I have to stand on top. But the few subtle notes I press sound in tune. Taking a deep breath, I stretch my tiny little fingers as I have done millions of times before this.


    I hate this thing. It''s no piano and sounds awful if it isn''t my father playing it. But my grounding is at stake here!


    I start with slamming the keys, the terrible noise catching confused attention. But more importantly, Lilyanne''s.


    I play the warm up tune and she gasps.


    "Let''s siiiing a sooooong that we don''t know! Let sing it hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiaaaa an siiiiiing it looooooooooooo~ Fa lalalala~ Offf we goooooo!"


    Oh thank god it''s working. She''s thrown down the show to toddle closer to me and the music, only it looks as if she''s stepping to the edge of the stage. A smart light technician spotlighting the singing toddler.


    I stretch my fingers again, starting the next piece. I''m not my father, I can''t do what he does and I have no sheet notes in front of me. It can only be simple pieces I have memoried. Things she knows the words to if not can play a little stupid monkey dance.


    It has to be cheats.


    "Twinkle twinkle little star! How I woooonder what you are!~"


    She hops on her tiptoes, making the skirt of her dress fly. Her little hands making ''twinkling'' motions. A recital dance of the unexpected cuteness!


    Has anyone in this world ever heard of this children''s song?


    Of course not! Even I''ve never heard it on the damn harpsichord! What have I done?!


    But it''s a lullaby I sing often enough for Lilyanne, so much she knows and loves. My dancing little sister effortlessly making things look lovely and adorable.


    I''m going to appeal to mother''s cute loving side. And what is cuter than her own precious Lilyanne?! Homewreckers in sailor suits not included.


    It takes my hardest effort to reach and combine notes. Somehow changing a modern beginner piano song into something worthy on this stage, on a damn harpsichord none the less. It has no weight, no tone, the ranges are limited. I can''t just play it like a simple piano. It doesn''t translate right.


    Ah Rosalia memories, don''t fail me know. I know you can play, don''t embarrass me now. Trills. Rolled chords. Stegato. Legato. I must use all these painful music lessons to make this work.


    It''s not a very long song, even if I throw in some fancy-sounding bridges and notes to lengthen it to account for Lily''s slightly off beat and occasional wrong lines. She''s only three and this is already good enough! It''s also for the audience.


    They are after all here to see and hear a show.


    Without much of a break, I transition to a cheerful piece I remember father playing for Lilyanne before. One of her trained monkey dances.


    With no more lines to sing, she dances. Hops and twirls with increasing difficulty to the audience''s enamored delight.


    Sure there are probably people with brains down there wondering what the hell is going on. But it''s just so cute, so they sit back and enjoy.


    I can''t keep it up. My mind blanking out before I switch to...another cheat. Time for a song Lilyanne, be super cute!


    "If you happy and you knows it~ Clap your hands!"


    She claps.


    "If you happy and you knowie it ~ Clappy your hands!"


    This time the audience starts clapping in tune.


    "If you happy and you know it!!! Den you um really really gotta show! If you happy an you know it clap you haaaaaands!!!~"


    What wondrous applause. They''re not used to this kind of novel audience interaction. Or watching a toddler on stage in general. I''m exploiting my sister to save our asses.


    I give her a break playing some random music she can dance to as she pleases. Mozart? No one''s ever heard of Mozart here. Um some upbeat prelude, um a piano sonata, number 16.


    Yes, that one''s easy. I remember teaching Heng-Fei that one. And Fur Elise, oh no one''s heard Beethoven either. I can absolutely get away with this.


    For some off reason, because everything must go wrong somehow, it suddenly gets very hot all around me. Hot and bright.


    Oh no, the spotlights. They found me.


    The audience jeering and laughter gets not twice but three times as loud. What the hell? I suppose to them it is now not just one little trained monkey but two. Curses.


    I better finish up this recital quickly. Playing an appropriate finish of beginner class Beethoven, I change the notes for the finale.


    It''s slow, almost drowned out in the audience chatter, which is very rude mind you, but eventually, Lilyanne catches on to this life saving song.


    "I love you~ You love me~


    We''re a happy family!!!


    Wit a grrreeeat big hug!!!


    and a kiss from meeee to youuuu~


    Won''t you saaaaay~


    Youuuuu luuuuuuuuv meeeeeeeeeee tooooooooooooooooo~!!!!"


    I have no shame here. Blatant plagiarism. The children''s programming network in another world with a purple dinosaur will never know.


    She repeats the chorus and the seconds part with flapping arms as if out to hug the invisible audience. To finish it off, she blows clumsy kisses out, as if waving to her mama and papa somewhere out there.


    A critical hit! The audience goes wild if not dying in their seats from cuteness. Such a brazen display of cheesy cringey affection that only cute small children can get away with! It fills people with warm fuzzy feelings and bursts them with the instincts to love, care, and protect the small adorable creature who has so captured their hearts and minds.


    "KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"


    Errr, I think I hear mother somewhere in the dark sea. I hope that''s a good sign.


    When I hope off the harpsichord the lights still follow me, a truly pesky thing. The sound of "aaawwww" coming from down below as I run up to Lilyanne, who mistakenly once again crashes into me with a hug.


    The awws come even louder and it''s mortifying.


    Pulling her apart, I lead her down to a bow and curtsey to the audience. Our first and last bow, so we can book it off stage.


    But everything that can go wrong must.


    The lights turn off. All of them. Plunging the entire auditorium in total darkness.


    The shock, the intrigue, the fire?


    "Diiiiid you reaaAlly think you could escape~ My beeeeeaauty my briiiide!!!" a haunting voice sings.


    A young woman screams, her super large shadow dramatically running across the badly lit stage with fire flames all around. It''s become a shadow play, the scarily long-legged creepy figure of a caped man slowly following after her.


    Oh it''s Mia and her stalker again!


    But why are they singing?


    "Let me goooooo~"


    "Noooo~!"


    "Let me goooooooOOO~"


    "Never~"


    "Let meeee GOOOOOOOOOOOO~"


    Oh that''s a very high note. Oh ouch. The audience however seems to love it, cheering in applause.


    "Not on your liiiiiiiiife!" the evil shadow sings before a great crashing comes falling down, knowing down the shadow.


    "Theeeeeeen I shall taaaake it" jumps down the sexy shadow of a young man with womanly flowing hair.


    "Oh Fabio!" she swoons.


    "Alright, that''s more than enough crazy." Georgie, messily changed back to his clothes, comes to ruin the show once again, lifting up and my sister from our viewing spot and out of harm''s way.


    For once this evening I actually agree with him. Young or old I don''t need this kin of bad drama in my life. Watching is fine but being on stage is really not worth it at all.


    He then plops us into the arms of the maids, who have suddenly appeared again. What a strange coincidence.


    I''m too tired to think any further. The excitement of the evening really being too much for my small body to put up with. Another time I will analyze all the missing clothes, scratches, burn marks that don''t belong on maids. But until then, I''m pooped.


    "Soooo fuuuun~" Lilyanne sings, sounding like a bad imitation of an opera star. I hope this didn''t influence her too badly.


    "Kyaaaaaa my babies!" mother rushes to meet and attack us right outside the auditorium, eagerly destroying use with hugs and kisses.


    Too much for one night. I''m weak. I won''t survive this.


    "Kyaaa kyaa kyaaa so precious and cute!!!! Oh Frederick! Thank you, darling! Thank you for preparing such a wonderful surprise! I never would have thought?! "


    "Mama Lily lovies you!"


    "....."


    "And I love you two tooo~ Kyaaaa so wonderful! I cried so much! My girls worked so hard to hide their practice show for mama~! Frederick you sly thing!"


    Standing there as if he were truly responsible for orchestrating it all, my father serenely smiles. There''s no spotlight but he shines simply by staying, far more gorgeous than any mere theatre actor.


    "It was all the girls idea Maria. They just wanted to show how much....we simply...love you." he smirks, looking at me directly. The threat and my wrongs hanging in their air.


    It''s not like I meant for all this to happen. Forgive me. Please don''t ground me again.


    "Come now my loves. The best part of the show is over. Now your carriage awaits"


    With father escorting, mother being so covered in hearts and flowers, choking my sister and me alive that no one bothers to notice the wreck and debris of the wide-open lobby. The servants in mixed tired states following right behind and to the side.


    This really is enough crazy. While not ideal an ending, I''d glad it''s over.


    "Oh but that last song! So wonderful! Why didn''t my Rosa sing along with Lily? Mama wants to hear Rosa sing too~"


    "Why Maria, I''m sure our Chippy would so ''glad'' to."


    Close the curtains already. This show is over! Over I say!

 126 Encore?

    "Kyaaa~ Again! Do it again!!! \u003c3"


    "...."


    "Encore~ Mama loves you! Whooooo encore! Again! That''s my Rosalia!"


    It''s...too much. The pressure is too much. Never before have I ever faced a fangirl as intense as this person, not even the crazy screaming teenagers at some top idol group concerts. But at least that''s worth screaming for. Lights, stage, flashy music, choreographed dancing, extremely hot people.


    I have none of those.


    I am three.


    By some cosmic joke, the world''s worst fangirl is my birth giver. Her stanned bias is cuteness.


    Around us, the maids and other servants clean and pack, putting away shopping purchases and general luggage into the right spaces to be loaded up and sent either back home or to the vineyard vacation villa. Somewhere we''ll be going to back to quite soon.


    How are the seasonal produce and my famine prevention measures going throughout the territory? Did grampa do any of the things I asked? More smokers for the troops? Increase the greenhouse tents? Distribute informationals to outskirt farms along the main roads?


    What about the early opened dungeons?


    There''s a lot of work to be done instead of ...this.


    Now we just wait for father as finishes up any necessary work up here. It''s a little frustrating I''m not privy to exactly what, for there is quite a wide variety of business, but I do know my engagement is one of them. I feel there must be a reasonable way to squeeze proper information out of the nerd. But until then....


    ...As the ladies of the house of course we don''t need to bother much. Order the right things to be done and go. No need to trouble ourselves with something as mundane as packing back.


    This is why mother and Lilyanne are having such a grand free time.


    "I''m a wittle teapot~!"


    "Oh oh oh wait with Lily! Go on Lily sweet~ Get up there!"


    "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaayyy~ Wit Rosa!"


    "....."


    Never in my whole life as Rosalia Ventrella have I ever been so humiliated. That''s saying a lot.


    There is no stage, but somehow any flat elevated surface is good enough.


    Even the bed.


    Down below my evil assistant does nothing to help me. Rather Georgie eats snacks and encourages my mother even further, at times suggesting even more embarrassing outfits for each song and dance number.


    Today I am dressed like a fat decorated cream puff, poofy and diabetically sweet. The little curled pigtails and ostentatious amount of ribbons in my hair making me feel even younger and more childishly girlish.


    Truly the worst enemies are the ones close to you. Betrayal. E Tu Georgie? E tu!


    "I do believe my Lady, that the young misses would be extra extra eeeextra adorable if they did that thing, where they make a biiiiiiig heart with their arms."


    Betrayal. Sell out. Just fire him.


    "Biiiig smiles my young miss Rosalia~" he taunts.


    It''s as if he''s milking every second of this to make up for the fact I didn''t save him from his theatrical debut stage. Which was wonderful and absolutely not my fault at all. Go sue the theatre!


    I know suing isn''t exactly a thing here but I''m sure we could figure out something.


    Afterall their security absolutely sucks. An endangerment to innocent audiences. Especially to small children.


    Just look where that stupid show got me?!


    "Imma wittle teapot shortie and stout! Dis is my handle! Dis is my spout~"


    Lilyanne wiggles her butt, poofy white filled with expensive layers of short cloth fluttering with each bounce and move she makes. Completely in her element, she cares not for shame nor my shaken silence. The toddler and tiaras show for one must, no, it will go on.


    "Oh no no no my little duckie~ Lily sweet, tooogether~ Rosa dear keep up~" mother claps.


    She would wave fan chant light sticks if they existed. She would be such a pageant mom if these were different times. For once I''m glad cameras don''t exist here. No records of anything.


    How about no?


    You can''t make me do any more than this? I''ll die. I''ll die of shame and mortification. This small body has no resistance to this kind of shit. I will die from being over embarrassed by my own household.


    I haven''t felt this level of crude humiliation since the last time I lost a bet and had to cosplay as...no let''s not think about it. The memory of shame is too much.


    There''s no one that shameless here that could force me into-


    "Whatever did I miss?" the evil fiend leans against the open door.


    Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Damn it.


    "Oh darling! My love, my Lord, my wonderful husband who makes such beautiful babies. Lookie! Just look! Your girls are so wonderfully cute, if you just look you''ll surely be convinced to make more."


    Mother runs up to him, pulling him down to the little ''concert'' seats, before plopping down to excitedly cuddle into his lap.


    This is not proper etiquette at all. But somehow I don''t think mother cares. Full on lovey dovey. The couple blissfully ignoring how some maids gasp and giggle in passing. Georgie rolling over, red-faced and choking.


    Suffer Georgie, suffer. Suffer what I suffer every day.


    "Is that so?" the fiend slightly sighs, playing along.


    It could be the heat tinging his ears brighter than his hair, but he readjusts the fully grown woman in his lap, getting comfortable.


    At the very least, he has the decency to stop mother''s hands from completely undoing his collar, though I do disgracefully catch the barest reveal of a pale throat dipping to alabaster and pink bitten collarbones. The faintest signs of very fresh indecency.


    "Oh yes darling! Absolutely!" mother squeals, pitch raising to a kyaaa~ as father tightens his grip around her waistline. Her happy shy act of rubbing her head repeatedly into his side all the more contradicting, as if she wasn''t responsible for the disgusting love marks ruining father''s skin.


    Can I join Georgie in rolling the hell out of here?


    "I think, my love, I''ll need a little more...convincing" dangerous eyes land up on ''stage''.


    I wish I could say they were full of tender affections for his cute stupid little...teapot, but no. There is no such thing as overconfidence in his bearing. A true nobleman does not ask or beg, but simply receive with magnificent grace, as easy as breathing.


    That''s his Lucifer face. A serene angel of God before the fall from grace. His beautiful smile makes my tiny knees shake, plopping down on the soft stage.


    "Papa... don''t make me do this anymore." I plead.


    There''s no need to fake the waterworks. Begging is useless but I can''t. I cannot bear to continue this absolute shame. With teary eyes and a trembling tiny frame, I force myself through the sacrifice. I will present my neck if that''s what it takes.


    Save me from this monkey show!!!


    "Hmmm? What am I supposed to be looking at?" he addresses mother, keeping that horrid gaze on me the whole time. His sadistic aura larger than this entire room, engulfing me. Multiple threats pierced into the air.


    "Rosalia!" mother gasps.


    I can''t, I really can''t keep this up. Look Lilyanne is so good at this dancing monkey thing! I''ll teach her all the songs! Take her! Take her and spare me!


    "Papa." I crawl, putting on the performance of a lifetime. "Papa~ Pllllleeeeeease, I''ll be goooooodddd. I''ll practice the harpsichord every day. I''ll do all my homework without complaining anymore. I won''t run off. I didn''t mean it. I was wrong. *sniff* Daaaaaaady. Daddy pwease~"


    That''s it. There is not even the shred of honor left in me. This cruel game forcing me to lay out my hand all on the table.


    Somehow the entire suite has fallen into dead silence. The maids do not even dare breathe. I am not a fool enough to ignore how I''ve paralyzed Georgie onto the floor. My own mother staring in horrified shock at me.


    The fiend smiles even more dazzlingly, it hurts to look directly. Though that could just be my pride.


    With a quiet beckoning of his gloved hand, I jump down to toddle up to his blessing. A deal with the devil not yet contracted. Wetness still drips at the edges of my hot eyes, the weight of all-singing dancing humiliation still at my too full skirts.


    He pats my head gently, but it feels as deadly as a sword. A finger twists through one of my curly pigtails in a way that could almost be called playful.


    "Oh Chip. Daddy sees you''re very tired today...as am I. I seemed to have missed so much...fun. Well then? Won''t you show your mama and I one last time what you''ve learned. Hmmm?" the devil chuckles, holding the bottom of my skull in his mercy.


    I feel my own face twitch. I hate him. I hate him so much. All that work for this? Forcing me to pull out all stops and more in some final judgment?! Is there a limit to this man?! Just what?!!


    I could scream but I wish to live. This is exactly the father I know.


    Sensing the drop, father laughs again, relishing in my despair. He leans over to press cruel lips against one of my short pigtails as if it were mother''s hands. Then tells me to,


    "Go on. Convince me."


    As I reluctantly march up to the ''stage'', bracing myself for the concert of a lifetime, in my head, I already sing to myself.


    ''I hate you, you hate me~


    Let''s get together and kill daaaaady~


    With a great big bat ~


    And a nailed 4x4~


    No more eeeevvvvil villainy faaaather!''


    Sighing, I take a confused Lilyanne''s hand and turn around to start the monkey dance routine. From the top, let''s start with the damn Little Teapot.


    The very rude audience however deters me immediately. Georgie appears to legitimately be dying on the floor. The maids have all disappeared. Mother is facepalming?!


    Only father has returned back to somewhat normal, blank faced and clapping something awful.


    "Wonderful. Magnifique. The epitome of delight. Do tell me there''s more? Absolutely divine. Maria, my divinity, my blessed wife and beloved mother to the whimsical little monstrosities I call my daughters, I am not quite convinced about risking another one of those into the world but I am getting there. Bravissimo. Encore."


    The show hasn''t even started you stupid nerd!


    "I ''hates'' you~" Lily parrot caws, the thing she does before learning new words or songs "you hate me~"


    Uh oh.


    Did I just?


    "Darling perfect husband of mine....father of Rosalia...just where did she learn that from?" mother''s voice comes unamused from behind her hands.


    A too familiar chill of foreboding crashes down much like mother''s property damage.


    Uh oh.


    Everyone run! Go go go! The hotel suite is almost empty from packing anyways. Don''t mind the collateral damage we have to move! Now! Stop drop and roll!


    Ahhhhhhh!


    Save me you terrible nerd! This is all your fault! Ahhhhh! Don''t let mother get me again! I promise I''ll be good! Really! Eeeep!


    There are many ways to make a grand exit. In this case a great escape.


    I hope the hotel staff won''t mind too much, we''ll send for a big tip or something later.


    With a girl in each arm, father is forced to exit from the center stage and around back. A necessity more than anything. To confuse mother''s ''chase'' instinct, something I blame grampa for, from activating its full deadly potential, as we make our escape. Really not proper etiquette at all.


    Somehow I don''t think mother cares.


    --------


    ----


    --


    -


    Lift the curtains. Did some of you call for an encore? Ask and you shall receive.


    Author Warning: Higher rating for this part. Actual depictions of Violence and Cruelty. Hamster alert.


    There is no need to read to continue on with the story. Proceed at your own risk.


    And now, on to the show.


    -


    ---


    -------


    ----------------


    "... tired."


    "H-How?! How are you here?!"


    "I''m...really...really...tired."


    A heart ripping cry between a whimper and a sigh. It contrasted greatly with the flash storm outside. Such a little thing, such a long way. There was no need to suspect for any lies.


    Not that it mattered.


    A little boy that looked like a dream. A saving grace.


    As dirty and shivering as the small child was, he seemed to light up and shine in the darkness. The despair of the bloody space.


    Fire lit torches flickered shadows ominously. The fat dripping candles only at half-light, setting things even more frighteningly than if it was pitch black.


    Even set ablaze with the ancient chandeliers, round suspended wrought bars, candles lit like floating ghosts, the cold stone castle was always drowned in darkness. Day or night. Dark corners and hidden cellars. High above on rocky cliffs and rockier terrain, where few dared tread where nature deemed them unwelcome.


    There was always something to hide.


    Always.


    "You''re here...oh of course you are~" the lady of the house crooned.


    If one could call such a cold place a house.


    Some people had grand delusions of a castle and the life within the tall seemingly impenetrable walls. As if they weren''t things built originally to defend, to act as a fortress.


    Keep a lookout.


    Keep the monsters out.


    Sometimes though, people had a way of flipping things. Whatever it was made for, used elsewhere. Made up. Hard stone painted in layers and layers of paint, fresh and old. Something about blood just...never washed away.


    When the child staggered, breaking the tense moment, she ran for him.


    Breaking all decorum, a grown woman with a title, ran down the rest of the staircase. Her jewels bounce widely and the heavy trails of her dress dragged. On the unprotected stone floor, wetness splattered. Summer storms and uncleaned blood, pooling to create such an effect. When she ran a splash and trail followed after, rippling a path.


    A few servants trembled, one on the top of the stairs, two the sidelines, one by the door. Their head bowed low.


    They see nothing.


    They hear nothing.


    If they wanted to keep themselves whole, they will say nothing.


    There are worse places. Worse masters. This will be nothing. Just like all the others.


    Even as a beast in bloodying splendor dashed to its prey. Even if it''s only a pitiful child, not much meat on the bones. Honestly something they can''t say they haven''t seen before.


    He looks up with a foreign air and exotic eyes and even fewer dare to feel sympathy if they bothered to stick around. They can''t afford to.


    "You''re here! You''re actually here!" their mistress sounds delirious with madness, rushed with joy.


    Her youthful face smiling so wide the layers of paint and powder cracked more than the lighting that occasionally struck outside. Underneath, the land of skin scarred and marred with boils and sickly rot.


    When she dove on her knees, uncaring of drenching her fine gown in rain diluted sewage and blood, thunder rumbled right on the beat. The lights creating horrifying shadows, long claws outreaching to the soft still figure of a child. Taking him into her arms, a heartfelt reunion.


    Painted cinnabar lips, lasting as it was poisonous met the still warm skin of the softness only a babe could possess. The first contact alone sweeter than honeyed ambrosia. In her arms, the boy felt as fragile as a summer butterfly, still fluttering without any intent, any pain.


    Yellowed teeth snarled and bit down.


    Amar winces, but he doesn''t cry.


    Choking down the disgust, the gross sensation of this nasty human shaped thing gnawing and drinking from his flesh, he imagines it to be like when he first hunted. Clumsy and still shaken, unsure.


    The scaled beast pinning his nerves down, gripping its talons into his limbs. It''s long purple tongue slithering across his face and oversized jaws wanting to chew him right up. Any moment longer of hesitation and he''d be just as dead as most of his brothers and sisters.


    He still thinks he prefers the lizard-beast over Damia. The scaley powder and puss-filled rashed skin rubbing against him as the crazed woman suckled his neck. Her lack of fangs and rotting teeth making it all worse.


    Not more painful. Just worse.


    Blood dripped.


    Not from him. Like Damia would waste a drop of his blood. Especially right now in her state.


    The woman was wasting the months away, withering in an unknown disease. Her skin festered, hair and teeth started falling out, all manner of gross pains that meant nothing against the fear of lost beauty.


    From all the things she''s ingested, simply been around, no one could say what it was. That was the danger of untested potions.


    Then came the fire. Her brother and connection at the Troops, Darius, being the biggest victim. Though he lived, it was at a great price. Paralyzed and incapacitated, dependent on the kindness of his devoted pupil to keep not just him but his work''s memory alive.


    Too many memories better off forgotten. Too much evidence in the smoke and ashes.


    So she fled. Past lines and borders were drawn by funny men, conquerors and thieves. All the way to this big piece of nothing. A castle on top of a lonely world.


    Blood dripped again, rippling the slightly flooded pool rain water. The floor rippled and glowed red, murky but for the barest of reflections. Funny shapes make funnier pictures clearer than any veiled reality.


    When Amar looks up, the outstretched hand of a mangled and hung servant girl slightly swayed in a strong rush of a breeze. Dead eyes swelled with blood, and cold congealed blood dropped a dark red blessing onto the center of his forehead.


    He does not feel any wiser, any more understanding.


    It is not as beautiful or fragrant a mark as when his mother pressed her ring finger to him each year. Each special holiday that called for it like the rings of flowers and bursts in color.


    Instead, the swinging hand that gifted it hung high, naked and partly flayed. This empty temple of fear and stone. Grey and faded.


    If there were gods, they did not exist here. If they existed at all.


    He accepts none the less.


    Like he''s seen his mother do so many times before. Like the priests and common clothed people in colorful lands far from here, around death, at festival days, and any holy hour, he prays. Closes his eyes and prays the souls that cut and suffered here can leave in peace. Tells them in his mind''s eye to hurry up and go, bathe in the pools of forgetfulness and reincarnate. There nothing for them here. There will be nothing left for them here.


    Nothing good at least.


    But they can stay a bit for a show, if that will help appease their souls.


    He remembers liking puppet shows. A long time ago.


    "I thought that terrible thieving bastard would lock you away. That I would never taste you again." the monster woman sobbed.


    A desperate wet mouth still grasped onto his neck. Diseased lips whispering against his broken skin. Clinging onto him like the potential cure he maybe could be.


    It stung, of course, hurt something nightmarishly terrible. His body willed limp in her hungry hold as the human lizard tongue lapped, and he can''t hold in the sickness. The shivers.


    He didn''t like things biting him. Not even babies.


    It felt too many words beyond disgusting, even if he learned all the many languages in the world. Bite him and he''ll bite back. It was just instinct, the way of the world. It seemingly made things so much better to pull and rip apart the creature hurting him. From stinger and fangs to poison sacks deep in their guts.


    The poison in his veins still hurt, but it was better. At least he didn''t lose. At least he could go back home to mama.


    ...He''s suddenly very tired.


    Even more so than earlier. It wasn''t a lie or anything. He''s just... really really tired.


    Must be the poison finally hitting. Has to be something new, something he''s not used to yet for this to work.


    It took around 2703 counts for him to feel it. That''s about 3/4th of an hour glass down, and someone like Damia should feel it even sooner than that. He guesses he has about half an hourglass.


    He''s getting very tired, but he can keep awake that long. No problem. This is fine.


    "...it was scary," the boy chokes out, voice cracking "...lots of things...that came after...were really...too scary."


    He doesn''t make to hold her back, doesn''t touch her, stays limp, but the witch coos and giggles, finally releasing his neck when the blood stops coming out as easily.


    "Vincent doesn''t know you''re here. Does he? Didn''t show a peep of you. Thinks he''s so high and mighty now with that blasted support. To think he''s so greedy, after all, we''ve done for him?!" her mad grip would hurt another child. A weaker one.


    To be weak meant to sleep forever, and sometimes, lots of times, Amar thinks they''re the lucky ones.


    There''s no need to play along. Just as there''s no need to lie. Everything was scary. Everyone was scary.


    He thought they were going to die. For real. He thought Lukas and Rosa lost. And losing meant sleeping forever.


    Just like all the ones who lost the game before, big and little.


    But they didn''t, they lived and healed, and it was still...so painfully scary.


    Even when it was peaceful, especially so. He doesn''t know what is calm without a storm. Does not know kindness without a great price. Countless warnings ringing in his head, slithering tight at his throat as if it were his papa''s warm hand.


    Ugliness must be seen as if it were good.


    Poison must be taken as if it were sugar.


    A disobedient child that can''t understand.


    This is nothing. The lizard lady in front of him is nothing. The strong dark man who tends to his wounds and blows the pretty sounds from his silver pipes means little. Even the funniest one, a sore loser made of smoke and glass, broken with spilled pomegranate wine over golden threats that are as much promises. They matter not.


    Nothing could compare.


    "Did you mean it...from before." the boy says softly. So much so no one else, had they stayed, would have heard.


    "Why whichever part? Which part let you right to this far oh so far desolate lair?" Damia laughs, languishes. Half crazed thoughts raced. If only blood could be made faster. Purer. If only this tiny child was larger, could have ripened with elixer fruits of his blood.


    No one else could compare.


    Except maybe ...


    "There''s nowhere else. No one else will help me. Please. Please madame Damia." the child shivers.


    In his mind, he pretends he''s somewhere else. Just for a moment. For a moment he is weak. He is sunlit in stupid ribbons and strange clothes. His stomach is warm and not in pain, someone else''s mother comfortingly hugs and asks nothing of him as she teases her funny family. Remembering their flustered funny faces, how they fall so easily for it, almost makes him laugh to tears all over again.


    He uses that. Blinks and gathers the bittersweet wetness under his eyes.


    "Please what? Speak clearly and respectfully boy. And I just might not eat you all in one bite." she tries to drink from him again, slipping in cold splatter as he somehow pulls back.


    Titling his head, just right, he points to himself.


    "I want to sell you one of my eyes?"


    Lighting flashes before thunder rolls, blinding shadows if only for a split moment. It''s her turn to shiver. Shiver and laugh wildly out of the beating of hearts.


    The rotting and decay of her teeth, her face, her entire being reminds him of the low-level ghouls and spirits his older brothers would sleepily tell him tales of. An exiled witch doctor, rolling bone dice to decide what or who she should bother to eat next.


    "Good. Very good!" she laughs, practically in hysterics.


    He wonders if that was one of the effects of the last poison laced in his blood, or if the insanity was all her own.


    Oh? Wasn''t there something about people going crazy if their mama and papa were too close in blood ties?


    He remembers Rosalia muttering the way she always does when she made him do her ''homework''. How to read how these people liked drawing their family trees, then matched it up to Hoody''s papers he saw when helping Vincent. That could explain it?


    "I have to get back, they''ll miss me and know? And I do like seeing. So I need to keep one? Is that ok?"


    She laughs to the rain and clatter of the howling wind. Amar wonders now how mad Yuna will be if he''s late.


    He thinks he''ll be late if the crazy lizard lady keeps laughing on the floor or trying to drink his blood. Even the dead corpse hanging above him looks like she was getting bored.


    "Of course, what a wonderfully smart and selfless boy you are! So sensible! Come. Here won''t do at all!"


    When Damia makes to stand up, he takes one of her offered claws. The long sharp nails still real with roots in her skin. That was going to change soon.


    Amar looks up to give her a small smile, relieved. Especially as she takes him to the stairs that grow even darker, deeper into this castle, into the mountain. Before he leaves, he turns back and thinks the dead girl swaying looks like she''s waving goodbye.


    That''s nice.


    He hopes everyone got everything set up in time because he''s getting sleepy. That Cass didn''t get too tired using her real ability. This job was definitely much easier with her around. Even if she was a little annoying, always fussing after to brush his hair, how he didn''t wear his earrings anymore or pretending to even know him.


    Silly Cass. He just met her?


    Silly Cass. Doesn''t know how to get the story straight.


    Silly silly silly.


    So silly for still trying to follow after a ghost of his mama.


    He told her she''s dead. Told her she''ll die, just like the others. That she''s been free for a long time, since mama died. And the weirdo still tries following after him to brush his messy hair straight or make him smell like stupid flowers. It was annoying.


    Everyone around him dies. Always.


    The kitten. The guards who stayed quiet. The old servants. The maids who followed his mama when she took him and ran. The smugglers. The innocent merchants. The nice old man and his grandson. That dessert caravan, young, old and all the babies.


    They all died.


    Amar doesn''t want this Cass to die too.


    Even though he doesn''t know her. Even though they just met. He doesn''t want that at all. He doesn''t want to watch that anymore. Doesn''t want to see anymore. If someone could take the pictures, the smell, the sounds, all the memories along with his eyes, he''d sell them all.


    If he doesn''t know her, maybe she''ll leave him alone after this. Maybe.


    "What- what in the hell is this?!"


    The bloody lizard lady''s shocked reaction wakes him up. Ah, he really felt too sleepy. It felt a little like he was a wooden puppet on loose strings, falling loose even as he moves.


    "Oh? That''s a lot of mirrors?"


    The boy steps forward, dozens of him turn to hundred, maybe even hundreds and thousands. The mirror images of various shapes and sizes, stretching his reflection across infinity as he spins in place.


    Infinity huh? He''s never counted that high before.


    There''s so many of him, and Amar doesn''t like what he sees. His sandy skin isn''t as nice and dark as his mama''s. Nor was his hair her pretty black chai, soft waves silken like rising steam. If he smiles, he can find the traces of her scrunched up. But he doesn''t like looking.


    If he looks too long, too closely, he might see him.


    And he can''t breathe.


    Turning back to bad lady, he doesn''t need to guess about who she sees when he stands there, reflected thousands of times over around the room. He knows.


    He''s very sorry a thousand times and more. Very much sorry that he took too much after abbi and not enough of amma.


    He''s sorry.


    "What is this?! What are they all doing here!?" she gasps, stumbling around the room. Revolting in every expensive crystal clear reflection of her ugliness. Her rot. The stinking insides coming out the surface under layers of paint and pearls, unable to hide for the sights.


    So this was every mirror they could find huh? That''s a lot, he thinks to himself. Counts.


    47? Wait no, he spots that there are little ones in some corners. 60? 61? 62?


    "Why can''t I-" the quick motion disorients her, fresh poisoned blood setting in sooner than he expected.


    He only counted a little over 1300 times?


    A yawn overtakes him. He won''t die if he falls asleep here but it was still very not good. He hopes they hurry up outside. He wants a snack and nap.


    "Is this a dream? A trip?!" she cackles, staring at slowly shaking limbs losing their control.


    "Madame Damia? Are you alright?" he hopes not.


    He knows it when she goes falling into a mirror, barely cracking it. Madness overtaking as she seemed to try to destroy the ugliness reflected back.


    "Don''t do that? It hurts right?"


    He tugs her skirt without any real intent. The action irritating her enough to whip and slap a claw across his face, knocking him down further across the mostly dark room of mirrors. Face down, he yawns through a smile he feels he can''t stop himself from making. Mama says he''s not supposed to make that face in front of others. They''ll know.


    A murky reaction of powders and liquids activating in the pouch carried under his clothes. Gas slowly steaming from where he fell.


    Now he didn''t start it.


    Rosa said he lied a lot and that''s just silly. He was telling the truth very much of the time even if she didn''t believe him.


    If you lie under a detector, like the ones they hooked him up to at the ''trial'' thing, then it would hurt very much. Shocks of pain or heavy weights pressing you to death. Lots of types. If you tell the truth but are even scared a little bit, it still hurts.


    It''s not like he wants to get hurt or feel owies.


    Lukas said he used tricks. Not lies.


    That was much smarter. Not exactly right but very much better. It was a good thing everyone was all too dumb to listen to Lukas or he''ll be in more trouble. Adults were so silly, it was kinda sad how stupid they were.


    The sound of the summer thunderstorm outside could still be heard from this deep in.


    If Damia''s personal....room, wasn''t soundproof enough, then that was perfect to cover up anything the escaped. The servants here were too used the sound of screams anyways.


    "You brat- w-hat is.." she stumbled, slowly knocking over self. "...you did this....and the...fire. Darius..."


    "That''s silly?" Amar wonders to himself, why do so many people think that?


    He only set the signal when? Not start the actual thing. How was he supposed to do that?


    People all thought and acted so funny, it got boring after a while.


    He stretches a little, getting up he goes to help the blood-sucking lizard lady into the middle of the room. Didn''t want her hurting herself just yet.


    "Thank you for helping me all that time" Amar sincerely thanks, not a single lie meant. "No one else wants to get me good poisons. I''m having a hard time getting enough now to keep up my training? Ah but no one eating my blood is nice. That part was weird?"


    "Y-uoi" she seethed, growing increasingly stiff. Her breathe speeding up as she panicked, the lack to easily expanding chests and lungs make it all the easier to just hyperventilate.


    "Don''t worry. You won''t turn out like master Darius. This is very different stuff." the boy tilted his head, a little confused but ultimately understanding of the woman''s fears.


    Fiddling with the small case in his pocket, Amar tried connecting the pieces until the tube and needle were all attached and good to go. It was a little hard to figure out but if he thought of it as a puzzle game it wasn''t so annoying.


    A semi-clear jelly-like liquid swished in the syringe.


    "Don''t be scared? It''s really good? We learned a lot and made lots of cool stuff under you and master Darius. Now we have all the books, we can learn more. It''s the nutrient potion. We helped make it last longer. One-shot like this you don''t have to eat or drink for a few more days? It''s really cool." the boy showed off.


    He got some nice head pats for it. Somehow Gable or Cap saying he did good, even if it was just something like this, felt nice. Vincent not yelling at him, even if he was surprised, also felt not bad?


    It was still weird though. He doesn''t always know what to do when he didn''t trick people into being nice to him.


    The funnyman that was Rosalia''s papa was much easier to deal with. If he said he was going to put a hole through you, he does. Simple.


    It''s even funnier how Rosa thinks her papa is scary. He was so scary nice to her and her drooling stinky sister? All the time? Sometimes he thinks she doesn''t even know he''s her kinda crazy papa. Babies were stupid sometimes, but that''s okay because they''re little and cute.


    At least Lukas knew just what Gable was. Gable didn''t say it but it was too easy for anyone that still had their eyes in their heads.


    The other boy could smell it too. That they smelled alike, somewhere under the skin. Same way Lukas knew about the weak one. The one that could break with one press of his foot, if he felt like being clumsy and missed juggling his knives. Amar''s not sure how someone as strong as Lukas could have someone so weak for his brother? Even a half brother. That one wasn''t so little anymore.


    All of own his brothers were strong? Isn''t that how brothers are supposed to be?


    Oh. That''s right. The weak ones went to sleep. How silly of Amar to forget. He didn''t?


    ''Don''t look.'' his mama cried


    ''Don''t listen.'' she''d order him.


    ''Don''t ever look back.''


    She would sing her songs, over and over again. Washing over the prettiest of sounds, ringing in his ears. The hypnotizing bells beating in tune with how his little breath beat.


    He''s sorry it didn''t work.


    "You-" the monster below gasped for breath.


    There were enough vials for three shots. That would keep her alive for a very long time.


    Soldiers at the troops can go do a lot more if this stuff worked on people. He guesses they were gonna use it on long missions without a lot of food or water? The lizard lady was still a ''people''. She counted. A "test subject". Okay then.


    He stabs her twice in different parts, carefully injecting all of the substance in. Watching for any side effects like he was told to do. Were there bruises? Extra pain? Did anything explode?


    Nope? In fact, she looked healthier? That''s what he''ll say back to Vincent and everyone. But the food here probably wasn''t very good so?


    "You-" she floundered like a fish, eyes spinning madly as they tried to keep focus on the tiny boy in front of her. Her choked laughter sounded like a type of drowning " you...would have made...a great...man...just like him."


    He stabs the last shot into her neck and forces her jaw open.


    "Your teeth are really bad." he squints, holding his breath.


    He doesn''t like this part at all. It was gross.


    "If they fell out like mine, it would be better. But adults don''t do that? They''re really bad, but it still hurts a lot." it hurt a bit to tilt his head, his neck " You can bite your tongue off and die? I''m not allowed to let you do that."


    They gave him gloves but it felt weird. The pliers were ok. He doesn''t really wanna reach in and pull the yucky things himself.


    1


    2


    2 and half?


    Holding her down enough was a little hard when she screamed and squirmed around like that. It was almost as slippery as catching eels, but the heavy dress kept if he stabbed a few knives down.


    "Okay dokey. That''s 9? " he showed her the small jar, and it made a clattering sound. The healthiest sharpest teeth. "I left the rotting ones. Sorry. I don''t really wanna." he tried stretching his head the other way.


    Nope still hurt.


    Rotting toothaches hurt more. That seemed like a fair trade for the yucky wound on his neck It was gonna hurt more when Cass saw and cleaned the wound. She was gonna find out anyway. Stubborn and silly as always.


    Oh but he doesn''t remember an always? Doesn''t know her. Right.


    He doesn''t remember anything.


    "You can move now. If you want? The numbness is only temporary." he says as he sits on top of her. Watching. Waiting.


    It was honestly boring if nothing else was gonna happen. He''d rather watch Lukas do homework.


    The painted claws swipe to strangle him, long in their reach. Amar feels himself yawn again, he just can''t help it. He was so sleepy.


    Bending down, he escapes by going low. Practically laying on top of bony lizard lady.


    Maybe this is what Rosa means when he doesn''t have enough ''mochi'' on him, he knows she means fat and flesh the same way he knows all 381 ways Lukas says bacon but means something else. It doesn''t feel very comfy.


    "Still didn''t wear off? You take too long? Too slow." he''s a little grumpy right now so he complains.


    When he makes to get up, he drags her by the string on her neck. It looks a little familiar.


    "Mama said she never loses at games. But that''s a lie. That''s okay. Sometimes she lost something because of gambling. A lot of people at the troops really really like gambling? Ah, that funny loser. Lord Ventrella? He likes it a lot too. Lots of people." he tugs against her gritted teeth, the half worn rotted ones still left in her bloody mouth. He bets it doesn''t taste as good when it''s her own.


    "Everything''s fair and square when playing? I think you won this somewhere? I don''t know? Mama had lots of these things. But I don''t think I like you wearing even one of them very much."


    It would be kinda funny if her head came off just like that. The kid wonders what kind of excuses he could give that could make for that?


    Oops?


    The gems and chain scatter as the clasp and links break, sparing the woman to breathe.


    When he gathers the broken pieces he decides it looks better that way. It would be easier to sell? A lot of his mama''s jewels looked a little too funny around here but the gems were alright? This place was weird, anywhere and all over he went. The same way how he had to explain to Cass that boys didn''t wear earrings and most people didn''t ever season their food right. Or at all? Weird.


    "AAAAAHHHHHHHHH" the bloody woman screeched, strength renewed to rip herself free to claw and attack.


    Just like the monsters in stories told in the dark. They were really scarier than beasts? People were the scariest, especially when they''re weak. Weak ones have to come up with all sorts of bad ways to eat you.


    He dodges easily, too easily. It was more fun playing with the stinky baby and the super-hard breadsticks, even if she was a lot slower. But if he hit that one too hard then Rosa would do more than hit him back. Like pull his ear or cry mad or make him smell more bad cheese. Bleh. Scary. Even scarier than stories.


    When Damia finally breaks a nail by ramming herself against a wall, Amar admits that also felt a little good. He didn''t even need to do anything?


    But she had him trapped now. Cornered. Blood drooling savagely out her gummy mouth. How funny.


    "Did you know? The door used to be here?"


    The strange statement takes her back for the moment as if registering it as truth versus a distracting lie.


    Amar holds back a giggle, just a little.


    Slender white arms, almost lovely if they weren''t floating disembodied, reach out from the stone wall, grasping the boy all around. Amar laughs because that tickles.


    "Your sons say they hope you like your new room? Bye-bye forever now."


    The arms pull and he disappears through the solid wall, childishly sweet giggles still echoing.


    The woman screams.


    Bleeding, clawing, surrounded by dimming candlelight and hundreds to thousands of broken reflections. She screams and screams till her declawed fingers rub raw against the impossible stone. Time seemingly meaningless. No exit. The reflections mocking at every angle every turn.


    Revolting at the sight of the largest grandest mirror, she runs headfirst into it. Crashing in diamonds and shatter.


    She does not die.


    For a very long time, she cannot die.


    Sometimes a sleepy silly child will think back to that fact and laugh a little. Don''t mind it. He''s just remembering something funny.

 127 Bouque

    Few words, as always. Low voice, flat, slightly hostile dead eyes. A mere imitation of an imposing aura, youth was little to no excuse.


    He didn''t have the weight of a single curl off my grandfather''s head. Not even a finger of the fear my late father could strike in me. The somber weight of his aura meant nothing to me.


    I recall that strange face I once found so tediously familiar. Parts and pieces chiseled as if a master crafter had worked on it. He contained many aspects of ideal handsomeness, clear beautifully white unblemished skin that did not see the poor man''s sunlight, light intelligent-looking brows on a high forehead, sloping cheekbones hollowed to a distinguished jaw, but put it all together and it gave a sense of disjointedness. As if said master left a clumsy apprentice to assemble the pieces. Still a clean-cut and mature face for a ''man'' his age.


    That''s right. I thought he was a man, already come of age. A short passing of season had somehow turned an arrogant pompous boy into a formal adult.


    That was the difference between us, this status. This is what kept me safe from that contract called marriage, that I was still but a child.


    My original long time thoughts and feeling on spending the rest of my life with this ''man'', to share our burdens, to carry our outer faces to the world and ultimately to bear and raise his children....was best described as expecting nothing, and still being disappointed.


    They were beautiful flowers I remember, the presented bouquet a fragrant explosion of summer blossoms and well-placed accessories. The florist did a wonderful job, selecting all of my sister''s favorite flowers. At least it wasn''t known to the public what were my personal preferences, not that anyone bothered to tell the differences. They just assumed.


    I accepted with grace, the small noble practiced smile for once breaking on my face at the chilling disgrace.


    "Why, of course, I can. " I smiled even brighter, know full well how to make that face. The face of the other girl he preferred.


    He was a man, while I still a child, there was a great height difference between us. He stood still as stone, frozen in anger at my mocking. The sharp intake of his breath and reddening indignation on pale face the only solace I could pick at.


    I was forced to look up and reach to receive the bouquet myself when he still didn''t move.


    How petty.


    "Don''t...do that." he clenches his fist under his sleeves.


    I hide my rolling eyes in the bouquet, using it in place of a fan despite the overpoweringly strong floral stench. Later I would toss it. Like hell, I''d act as his runner.


    "Oh. Whatever does your grace mean?" I blink up through the flowers, grimacing something ugly underneath various petals.


    Narrowed blue eyes for once were willing to meet mine, usually avoidant in their gaze.


    "Play along now your grace." I match his stillness, his rudeness in making a young lady act first, reflect back as good as I get, "the crowds are waiting."


    Finally, when he offers his reluctant hand, I do not accept it right away.


    "My lady."


    "Your grace."


    We linked arms none the less, as awkward as it is, a proper escort as any from the outside. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of eyes watch our every move. They cheer in ignorance, in the glamour, in silent judgment.


    The young prince was as handsome as a fairy tale, practically every young maid''s dream. Now, he was officially a man, not far from the throne himself.


    I was not an ill-suited match, despite my youth. Years of harsh training and etiquette were beaten into every fiber of my being if my noble blood somehow still wasn''t enough. We looked good together. I knew that much was not an exaggeration, nor mere flattery.


    "Will you stop that?" he breathes out quietly, a stern and serious face to the world. As if a magnificent weight was about to rest on his growing broadening shoulders. It was all quite droll.


    My manners were perfect, it was not simply my famed arrogance that saw that.


    "You''ll have to be more specific, my grace. On what is it you wish me to stop for the time?"


    It could have been anything, at any time. My fiance was never quite pleased with me. My businesses, the way I run my properties, the way I drew lines, right down to the way I looked. He was never pleased how I wasn''t her.


    "You have two years." the grip on my arm was beginning to hurt.


    The horrid little boy- man- then dared to sabotage me in public. Pulling me to the point I almost stumbled, forcing me to lean against his robes. In the end, he covered it up as if had helped this foolish little girl from tripping. As if he hadn''t shamed me enough?


    It would be even more shameful to react. I was raised far better than that.


    "....2 years? Till my own coming of age? Wonderful. You know how to count. The nation will be so relieved. "


    "Till we''re wed." he hissed quickly under his breath.


    I could have stopped in my tracks, but it wasn''t the place. Wasn''t the time. Too many eyes, too many expectations.


    "Oh ho ho. Don''t be so in such a foolish hurry your grace. Your position isn''t in any danger? Even if, the gods and goddesses forbid, illness takes your king father to the pearly gates before his time too soon. Don''t you know it''s utterly unfashionable to wed a lady right after her adulthood ceremony? What are we? Are we peasants, childhood sweethearts tearfully waving each other before a war? "


    His grip hurt and it wasn''t simply impatience that slowed us down on our formal march.


    "Stop that."


    "Forgive my great lacking, your grace. I regret to inform you that I yet to master the fine art of mind-reading."


    "...."


    "Anything?"


    "...."


    "Your grace. This lady would humbly bow if we were not in public, requesting, no begging you bless my delicate feminine ears with more than a handful of your royal grunts and long gaps of speech. Perhaps then I could attempt to understand? "


    "....those flowers, don''t suit you."


    "Oh my. You just noticed? Stick with diamonds, that always work."


    "How could someone... like you... be related to someone like her?"


    Of all the things to finally say. I remember laughing. I remember forcibly pulling away. Not to hide how it stung, not to hide the tired comparisons, the hurt that never got the chance to heal.


    The guards lining the road, no matter how strict their orders, parted before my silent command. The crowds could have swarmed me, hurt me. They could have torn me apart alive right there and then. But they too parted, bowed in their shakey clumsy ways.


    All but the small bright eyed common children, hiding in their mother''s arms, confusedly bowed by their sides.


    "These flowers," I approached one at random, her little brown curls streaked stuck with mud, "they suit you more than I."


    I hoped he was watching. I hoped he could see clearly how I tore his ''gift'' apart. Fat glamorous flowers, tediously grown to perfection. I destroyed them, starting with one little girl.


    She gasped, howling in what I assumed was children''s noise at the flower stabbed into her filthy hair. Like a monster''s hoard call, it brought forth others like her. More peasant children, breaking out of their parent''s holds. Little hungry beasts. I tossed the broken mangled stems at them but they cheered as if I were throwing money.


    The mother next, tears in her eyes as I fakely complimented her screaming child. I dropped the rest into her skinny bosom.


    A tumbled multi-gemmed brooch fell out the ribboned casing, the sunlight reflecting momentarily blinding not just me but the crowds all around.


    No one moved, I suspected that few people even bothered breathing. The sound of the guards'' swords clearly being unsheathed.


    I laughed even harder.


    A love gift! He was hiding a love gift in there?! I would have never known and taken it home, delivered personally into Lilyanne''s waiting hands. Immediately I identified the heavy make, the forged origins to the North-West, the murky crystal whites and tumbled smooth blue stones, and their hidden intents. Such a magnificent set of blue, it would stand out something gorgeous against Lilyanne''s hair, the sweet swell of her dress.


    It was insulting how they thought they could use me, how they almost got away with it.


    "What a blessing?....Surely, good woman, you''ll make better of use of this than I?"


    Did I already look like a madwoman at the time? Was my laugh very frightening? The bedraggled women dared to shake and cry, refusing the trouble of having to deal with this unseen weight.


    "My-my lady. T-this one does not d-dare." she managed.


    It''s not that I didn''t understand, what if she got mugged before selling it off? Who''s to say? So much trouble.


    But I didn''t want such unsightly trash either.


    Could have been anyone. It didn''t matter if I tossed it to the filthy baby to play with, she was old enough not to choke on it. Good enough.


    "Dare. I have already given it away to do as one likes. Do not do me the dishonor of taking it back."


    I smiled, fake as this farce. Without even dusting it off, I resorted to picking up the now dirty thing from the floor and treating it like the trash it was. Into the playful hands of the child and her sobbing bowing mother. They had better sell it quickly before the guards dispersed.


    I had turned back to resume my duties, annoyed about having to throw out such trash. At the very least I had the satisfaction to return to my fiance''s side if he bothered not the leave me behind. Again.


    I wouldn''t know.


    I only know how this ends.


    "Wait! Please wait a moment!" a sweet and delicate voice cries out, too familiar. Stubborn, though weak, with more than a hint of pitifulness. Every time that voice talked, all the self-proclaimed ''knights'' around her would slay whatever dared stand in her way.


    I told her she wasn''t to come today, not like that. But does she ever listen? Of course not.


    What would people think? What would nobles say to see that frail lovely young maid, not but 14, dressed in such flimsy plain robes in public? A disguise she called it. More like a scandalous disgrace, just begging for people to gossip and slander.


    As if anyone in disguise as a commoner could afford to keep delicately embroidered cloth so white and clean? If they didn''t already know about her standard disguise on sight, it would be the news around town by evening supper.


    So young. The plainer, though no less expensive than my own closet, cloth accentuated her budding curves, making her look slender and elegant. Peeks of fabulously pale white skin underneath drew people''s eyes, their expectations that a real beauty, a bud waiting to blood, lied underneath.


    I didn''t want to look. I didn''t want to turn around to my shame, my ''better'' half. The show stealer and foil that I served since I was born, extensively since we were left without parents.


    "Please! Rosalia~" her pitiful cries made people''s hearts ache, even without knowing the contents. If she wasn''t being obvious enough, calling out my personal name without title, in public, so unabashedly, had revealed her.


    Sighing, I stood in place, once again caught up in her pace. It was better to cut my losses, to escort her personally back then to let any of those fiends take the honor. As horribly tired as I was of her antics, her disappointments, I would never leave her alone with boys nor men, even if they were nothing but untrained lovelorn puppy dogs, in public. Though she seemed to more than enjoy it in private.


    Just like how she met up with my fiance, in so-called flimsy disguise, just last week.


    "Rosa!"


    I turned, finally facing her. The delicate hoot finally dropping in moment to reveal...


    A cheese chewing toddler?


    "Rosa! Flower nom nom? " she bites the bouquet between our faces, much like a goat, chewing the petals and leaves in a very serious tasting. All before spitting it out in a wet mulch.


    Well, that was a wake-up call.


    "Blech! No nom nom. " she spits and splutters, looking nothing like the white lotus sort of young maiden I was expecting to see in my mind just now.


    Tiny hands stuffing the rest of the cheese she''s holding to wash out the taste in her squishy little face. It''s hard to call a toddler a budding beauty of any kind when she''s covered in colors and spit-up.


    Toddlers are messy. There goes another dress. I say we just put a permanent bib on her.


    "Oh my, Lilyanne Mariana Ventrella! What are you doing? No no no my sweet a lady mustn''t go putting strange things into her mouth!" mother fusses, running over to clean the flower dyed spit up over Lily''s dress.


    "Rosa smushy for a looooong time, Lily thought nom noms? No nom noms" she sticks out her whole tongue, the solid cheese doing an inadequate job of getting the taste of flowers out her mouth.


    "No no no my Lilyanne, you must not copy your sister. Do you remember when she fell very very sick because she smelled something yummy at grampapa''s troops? We had to lock her up."


    "Wit big bruders!"


    "Yes. For they all put very bad things in their mouths and it hurt them quite badly. Your sister especially. Do you want to fall sick and have more ''owies''? "


    "No!"


    "Then my sweet precious good little child, you must not eat after everything you see! It''s very dangerous. Just remember your sister''s horrible mistake and how she terribly sick she got, or how she couldn''t talk for some time. Or how had to be fed, with the cuties, oh that precious little -ohohoho, so cuuute~ I want one too~ To keep~ So cutes!"


    "Big fat tongue, big hee hee." my sister mocks me.


    Thank you all for the short course of my dark history. It was not necessary.


    I''m still bad about shut up salted caramels, now that I remember it. Mad because they actually tasted pretty darn good. What a waste!


    The scent of flowers in the gifted bouquet is too much to my senses now, especially after watching my twin try to consume it like a salad. There is no note or anything. The hotel''s delivery staff and pages were quite clear this morning before our departure. Flowers for the young ladies of House Ventrella, by yours truly.


    Stupid Prince


    Okay, they didn''t say that exactly, but same thing. Of course, it was arranged by countless servents, advisors, go in-betweens, right down to the delivery runner hading off the flowers. But none the less it''s from their side.


    I never received any more flowers from my fiance after that event. A steward maybe, something prepared by my own people or run by a valet? But personally? Never again.


    "I don''t like them either mother." I announce, pushing them away.


    "Oh my?" mother wakes up from her distraction. "Do you not like these types my darling?"


    "The flowers themselves are innocent. I just don''t like them. "


    It''s very odd a child at that age to send flowers? So most likely it''s something his people came up with. A kind enough gesture before our departure. Mother gives me a slightly puzzled look but does nothing further, especially given how her other much odder child just tried to chew it. It''s just a bouquet.


    It means nothing. Especially not who they''re supposed to be from.


    "Are my girls all ready?" father steps into the room.


    The carriages must all be ready. He doesn''t need to come all the way back to the suit to escort mother down. It''s rather a waste of time if we''re being economic.


    But here he is as if he had not wasted even more time just the other day playing what quite possibly was the most terrifyingly intense game of hide and seek that I, and the poor hotel staff, have ever witnessed. Quite dizzying to spin around all those halls. I nearly fell my famouse case of ill from all motion being carried about like that, even once escaping through a balcony window.


    It didn''t work.


    I shall not recount the cruel humiliating punishments mother inflicted on my delicate bottom, nor any of the other nasty details. That is not a story for today, or ever.


    Against such a terrifying woman, any man should be begging for mercy. Showering bribes of flowers and sweets, jewels and gowns. All things my father can very well afford.


    But doesn''t. At least not ever at the right time?


    How does he ever survive being married?


    The Northern Federation is not lacking for money. The things that the stupid prince, or his people, sent me were never cheap, knowing my tastes. Crafted goods from lands afar, beyond my territory''s borders. Lavish displays of wealth, the more expensive the better. All the grand gorgeous bouquets that were sent to my maid''s arms for any all reasons.


    Being late. Not making it. Not showing up at all. All cheap excuses, no matter how costly the gifts.


    Especially towards the end of my life, when his coldness was at its peak. Worse than a storm that starved the lands, stiller than dead, resentment buried underneath like something unholy.


    That''s what all those meaningless displays meant in the end. All those bouquets amounted to.


    Trash.


    "Just about darling! Oh look at that, it''s not like you to be so untidy." mother giggles, finishing off with tying Lilyanne''s bonnet.


    With some hurried steps resembling more of a girl closer to my sister''s current age, she runs up into his arms, her excess sleeves floating along. With nothing offered, she tugs and straightens out his collar, the knots to his overly complicated necktie. Something she''s quite fond of pulling, and I fear, quite adept at undoing.


    "Some rowdy beasts, a bit of hurried business. All done now my dear. All yours now love." he smiles, truly smile. Letting her do what she likes, which was practically trying a noose at his neck.


    I gag like I had eaten some damn flowers when he leans to press his thanks for the torture onto her forehead. I roll in horror and to safety underneath the tablecloth when she forcefully pulls his face down for something more, squealing horrible little sounds.


    How salacious! Immoral! Why I never.


    Shivering under the tablecloth, Lilyaene joins me in her confusion. Still pure and innocent to the corruption that is grossness in this world.


    To think, in little more than 10 years from now, she would be donning inappropriate dresses and go about galvanizing with strange men under her spell. All those compromising situations. All the blatant ''cheating''. Young. Old. The stupid prince.


    Oh the horrors!


    Perhaps the bad influence...lies with the parents?


    Yes! At least partly. She''s always been much closer to our parental units than I have. At home, unable to escape on horseback, she must have been witness to all sorts of disgusting lovey-dovey horrors from those two during the formative years of her life. It messed up her brain and all good sense.


    "Rosa? Rosa need to go poopy?" she smacks her lips at me, grabbing at my face with her sticky fingers.


    "...Yes Lily. We must throw all gross things down and away like poopy. Don''t listen Lily, it''s all terribly gross."


    "Kissies?"


    "Disgusting."


    "Muh!"


    "Errrg not like that Lily. Remember never to do that to anyone that''s not our family. No one. Even if they ask for it. It''s very wrong and rude." I wipe the wet drool left on my face.


    It''s going to be so tiresome controlling this girl and her loose lips. Already she is stepping into some terrible examples.


    "Chicken!" she responds to my very serious warnings.


    " ...I''m sorry Lilyanne. What?"


    "Lily kissy chickens. Hurts lot, owies. Lots of owies." she sniffles as if remembering a painful nightmare.


    "...you...kissed...chickens?!"


    What? I done any of those petty pranks in this timeline yet. Even then I tricked her into hissing the horses, saying they were cursed men who needed someone to ''undo'' the spell?! Why is she kissing chickens at this point?


    "So many owies," she starts sobbing her famous fountain tears, the delicate tears that draw the hearts of all, activating a protective instinct despite being such an ugly crier, "bleh, Lily owie all over. So meanies. No more kissy or lick chickens! Big bruder Lukas and chickens owie!"


    ...I see.


    Using the power of deduction, I have come to the conclusion that Lukas has somehow gotten my sweet dumb little sister to lick a live chicken, much like I witnessed him getting her to lick a goat. But chickens, especially Gable''s chickens, are some unholy terror of beaks, feathers, and talons. If she were not protected by a protagonist halo, or perhaps rescued by Gable, I may very well be an only child.


    Good job Lukas.


    "Kissies by anyone not in the family are full of owies. Did you know that Lilyanne? Even if it doesn''t hurt right away, they...are....WORSE THAN THE CHICKENS!!!"


    "Nooooooo!!! No more chicken owies!"


    "Yes! Dare to smack faces with anyone, especially strange stupid boys, will be so much owies!"


    "No no no no Lilwi no want dats" she speech becomes messier with her increased tears.


    "Then you must listen to big sister''s words very well. Or it will hurt more than any goats or chickens or anything....er...more than bread sticks? It will hurt more than Lukas with a breadstick to your face! That hurt."


    "Waaaaaah!!! Rosa! Save me!"


    I pat to comfort her, not at all having fun. It''s all a lesson for her own good?


    If only the original her could have trusted me as much. Could have listened. Not everyone who approaches does so with honest sincere intentions, especially in our circles. Not just any stupid boy is worth so much trouble.


    I don''t wonder if she ever thought it was worth it. The matters....most likely never crossed her mind. That he was involved in my death.


    Why else would she marry him? Like in that dream.


    That''s a scary thought. Being so stupid you just...marry your sister''s killer. Indirectly or not. I know it wasn''t all Erik''s fault, nor did he directly order such things, the indecisive unproductive fool, he wouldn''t have the guts...but didn''t he stand at the center of it?


    The flowers today reminded me a little too much of those times before.


    Somehow, I''m suddenly glad that father fails to be a proper normal husband. Flower bouquets? None of that nonsense. There were a lot of things. Some expensive. Some very strange. Rosalia swore she saw him pick horse weeds off the ground more than once to present to my frail waiting mother at home, something that I definitely wiped out of my memory. It just....made no sense? Well, their entire relationship never made sense to me, so there''s that.


    Other than that, no flowers. The original nerd would prefer to rush and ride home, like a moment more to present himself as the gift. Time being the most important thing of all, something money could never buy.


    No...there''s no original or now. They''re the same man. Exactly the same person playing this body''s father. I''m just...seeing a lot of things from a different perspective now.


    After all, I am someone else. Fresh eyes to watch Rosalia''s life playback strangely.


    It''s just very hard to separate the memories sometimes.


    When the tablecloth lifts, an apologetic faced mother and father find Lilyanne slowly calming down in my arms, still whimpering.


    "Your grossness scared her to tears. How awful." I still judge, patting the crying child soothingly.


    When they try reaching in, I turn away making displeased noises, until they learn their lesson about being nasty.


    It does not work. I''m lifted up along with Lilyanne out from under the table.


    The things are all packed and cleared. The children are dressed. Even the parentals got some last-minute disgusting attention in. We''re all set to go.


    "What of this?" mother asks dotingly, a bouquet of colorful flowers set on the table.


    "Leave it. I don''t like it." I simply state, trying to get comfortable in father''s hold.


    "Not yummy!" Lilyanne sticks out her tongue, blowing it at the flowers.


    "Why? Did you want it?" father asks dotingly, until revealing his true mouth " if chopped and dying reproductive organs of floras and such species displayed ostentatiously to showcase their untimely rot and decay truly please you so much, my dear wife, I shall have a-"


    "Oh no, darling. I''m quite good. I'' de much prefer a walk in the gardens with you. Now let''s not keep the carriage waiting."


    This is a nerd with very bad strange tastes most of the time so it''s best not to trust him. Until next time with the next vegetable bouquet. That''s being quite mild, given his interests. Good thing he has an equally strange partner willing put up with it.


    They''re very disgusting, but at least they''re happy. I wouldn''t call it ''true love'' or whatever that means but I think I know what Lilyanne saw when she looked at them. When she searched for them in every kind act a person gave her. In every affectionate gesture, every tall tale and sweet sway of words.


    I wonder if she ever found them, that, in her stupid prince.


    I want to say no. But really, I don''t even want to know.


    I''ll find out if it''s meant to be, but other than that I don''t care enough to think that far. If she was that happy ending up with him. I don''t even know why she liked him in the first place? Really now, the though it even more vomit inducing than anything to do with my own parents, no matter how gross they are. Anything.


    "What is my Chip running in her little mind now?" father adjusts his hold, securing me as he walks. Mother by his side still trying to fully calm down the fountain that is Lilyanne.


    Employees, guests, the row of various servants prepared parts as we depart outside.


    I do not wish to stew about it much longer. It''s an old story and full of other things to avoid. Besides, we''re in public, and people, including my own father, do enjoy a show.


    "Papa, I do not wish to receive any more stinky flowers or such tokens from men who are not you~ Not even if it''s from some stupid fiance. Got it?" I play up, despite whispering the last part, seemingly the way he likes it in public.


    Shameless. But so is a noble''s life. I have quite the cheap prices when you consider it?


    His face falls even flatter, so much so he halts completely to a confused mother. In eyes, an uprising look of disgust, a terribly handsome sneer I know is just hiding behind that gentlemen''s face.


    Gross right?! Ha! Take that. Just a small taste of what I have to suffer with daily!


    "Papa? Capiche? Rosa don''t want~" I play coy, slapping my shocked parents with their own disgusting moves. Rubbing my face into his chest softly, mocking my own mother.


    It doesn''t work. Just like most things with me, typical.


    Instead, my father fully stuffs me into his waistcoat, just unabashedly stashes me into the pocket uncaring of whether I can breathe of not. His grip practically painful, ack definitely spasming between too tight and too shakey, though than could just be the suddent movement.


    "Darling?!" mother squeaks, getting dragged to keep up.


    "We''re taking another door."


    "Whatever is the matter now?"


    "Avoiding the front. No boys. No one. Not even royals. You heard our Rosa, none. No one but me. No one is to see. "


    "Darling?!"


    Errr that''s not exactly what I meant. I can''t see a thing and the moment I try to peek out to breathe, father''s elegant hands are wasted in smushing me back down into the kangaroo pocket.


    It''s the motion sick spinning path through the halls again! Round and round we go, bleh.


    "They''re waiting by the front, don''t ask me why."


    "Oh darling, isn''t that adorable. The flower delivery sang of our girls'' praises after that night. Oh, what a show! The music! They say that young prince has been fascinated with the song''s since he probably just wants to say hello and-"


    "Absolutely not. None. "


    And so we make our not so grand final exit, all the way around, while I''m stashed like stolen goods. Wonderful. Just my style.


    Goodbye city life! Until next time.


    More importantly goodbye my stupid fiance. May we never meet again~


    And stay away from my sister. Seriously? They''re so young, too young, and it''s already happening?! None!


    "None it is Rosalia. Wouldn''t have it any other way."


    "Darling.... Don''t be so unreasonable."


    "She said none, Maria! No boys!"


    The carriage door shuts and away we go, gross bickering and all.


    ------------


    ---


    -

 128 How many horses?

    If my memories haven''t failed me, Rosalia officially began riding lessons at the age of 4. A selection of suitable ponies, and not so suitable....mounts, rotated as I became familiar with the different reigns, rides, and methods of sitting.


    I can''t say I was a natural genius or anything of the sort. It was quite the struggle to stay on through all the motion, my soft muscles untrained and unused.


    Anyone thinking that riding a white horse, flowing in the wind, is as easy and graceful as it looks in a picture book, is an idiot!


    Expect sore bumps, rumps, cores, and everything in between your legs. I''m pretty sure horseback riding, along with whatever endurance hell muscle-building torture from grampa, gave me abs. To lose out against the soft desired femininity that was Lilyanne, so obviously. It was quite the blow to my misplaced vanity then.


    Or well Rosalia, same thing at this point.


    As a child just starting out, it was a very intimidating and tiresome thing. l grasped with nothing but a few leather reins in soft powerless hands.


    Confronting such large animals, controlling something so beyond oneself in size and power. The sheer power of the physical force, the weight, the height. Controlling something so large and dangerous that with one bite, stomp, or even the slightest slip could disable a grown adult''s body into nothing but pulp, disabling them for life if not killing them right there in the dirt.


    How exhilarating.


    "I am over three and half father."


    "Yes, Chip. I have noticed."


    "I am afraid father, that you have not. "


    I indicate to my current state, still buttoned to his side, barely resting any weight on the saddle. Instead of sitting and riding on Damask, it''s more that I''m in my father''s pocket. It''s very inappropriate at my age.


    "Given that, I am no longer a mere baby-"


    I start to reason, only to be interrupted by the mild strange coughing. When I look up, my father is blank-faced as usual. I shall choose to ignore him. It''s asking for too much not to be insulted daily by this man.


    "Ahem. Given that I am no longer a baby, it would be wise to start me on my own, preferably with my own steed. However, you do not even let me sit in a proper position."


    "Hmmm" my father plays along, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It''s a very safe noise to make, especially when talking to mother.


    "I understand your concerns and dismissal. Really. I am very small, while most horses are very big." I pet at Damask''s flowing mane, my tiny hand easily getting lost in the horse hair.


    "Father. I assure you that I shall not shame you with appropriately timed lessons. I believe after I turn 4. Thus we must search for my horse ahead of time! To early train in time."


    "Hmmm I see."


    He does not see, only continues to give me a vague nod and head pets. My hair is ruined anyways in this wind and galloping conditions.


    Damask, smaller and gentler than her mate and thus father''s preferred horse when taking me out, comfortably runs no slower than an average modern car. She is also much more alive, and intelligent than one. The complicated line of animal and monster interbreeding creating an abnormally trainable but enhanced steed, though she really resembles more of a puppy horse. A good trait to pass on my favorite Biscotti- eerr I mean, I love all my stable evenly. Shhhhh.


    An extra bonus is how Damask has yet to accidentally bite, stomp, or crush me. Wonderful.


    There are some very good reasons why children don''t typically get equestrian lessons till later on. These things are just big.


    "Father, I am being quite serious. I have said, I am willing to bear with the weight of horse riding lessons at my young age., if we get me a certain type of horse."


    "My, I had no inkling of an idea."


    "Of course not. That''s why I''m telling you now. "


    It''s a lot like a driving parent barely listening to their babbling kid in the child''s seat. At least that''s the impression I''m getting. I suppose I shouldn''t bother him too much while he''s ''driving'' but this much is nothing for father.


    "Hmm, well now Chip dear, I don''t know how pleased your mother will be. Another stable."


    "I shall give you permission to be gross and distract her then. As long as it''s far away from Lilyanne and I. Oh a stable?! Yes I must have one built...."


    "Getting ahead there my little rising yeast ball."


    "Right right! Horse first. Wait. You still won''t even let me ride properly!" I squirm about inside my very improper seat.


    I''m already so large at 3 and half. I can''t possibly stay in this makeshift baby sling that is father''s riding coat for much longer. Does he not feel any shame for dragging along a child as large as I? Is it not embarrassing for a man of his status?


    I try pulling up memories that do not technically belong to me, but it gets increasingly sparse and blurry the further back I go. The original''s memories are clearest working backward, from 17 and downwards. Thus the most vivid, and still most shockingly painful, images are those from her teenage years.


    Somehow, I can''t recall if this girl had any good peaceful years.


    Lilyanne was sick. Always sick.


    Then came the baptism. My curse made public.


    All those years, further lost in lessons after grueling lessons.


    Then, we were left alone. My parents will go missing, presumed dead, in about 7 years.


    The entire joke that was my life. Playing not just a side character but a foil, the ultimate stepping stone in the fairytale that is Lilyanne. The pitiful perfect girl that had absolutely everything handed to her.


    If I look up and back, I do not see the same exact sights as I did back then. Father''s hair is short, not long, both mother and Lilyanne are absurdly healthy, and faceless characters now have been made regular interruption presences in my life.


    Grampa''s warnings are already here. Some things are the same, but not all. That''s the effect of the changes we bring. Affecting others and their choices, because otherwise, that tragic history would just repeat.


    "Not getting sick in there I presume?" father pats at my head, assuring himself I''m still here, as if he couldn''t already feel me in here.


    What, was he going to accidentally drop me off the running horse?


    "No. I don''t get sick riding mounts. Just carriages and such." I assure myself, matching up Rosalia''s preference for solo riding for that very reason. Motion sickness life is hard.


    "If you that is how you see it Chip." Father teases me by tickling the reigns right in front of me, so close that it tickles.


    Oh? Wait, really?


    Looking up, I see no disapproval. It''s a little tricky learning how to read such a subtle communicator like father. But this is how all nobles much learn to be. Can''t say I''m not familiar with such a style either.


    Reaching out, my tiny hands really look hilarious holding on the full-sized reigns. It''s more like a plaything than anything, control still fully under father''s will. But it''s a step in regaining control again, despite my small size.


    Until that fiend kicks the damn horse, speeding us up wildly. Don''t think I can''t tell what you did! I know how to ride! AHHH! Too fast! Too fast!


    This is so not fair?!


    Nothing happens of course. Father laughs at my floundering, purposefully speeding up before slowing down, entirely in control the whole time, keeping us steady. At any time he could have easily taken the reigns, and if I were a real child I would have fell for it.


    "Now then Rosalia, if you were sitting on your own, would you have been able to stay on?" he fake lectures.


    "....Cheater."


    "Hmmmm?"


    "....Father did that on purpose. You can''t speed up on the reigns. Damask was listening to your orders the whole time. Cheating player. "


    "How astute of you. Well, with your height you wouldn''t reach anything anyways."


    "..." I cannot argue with that. Curses. Short little legs grow longer!


    "Hang on now Rosalia."


    Father checks on me one last time, making sure I''m secured before really speeding up, the last stretch of our destination. Over the plains of nature and sheer nothing, quickly blowing up dust behind us.


    A small town, not too far from where the family vineyards are. It really is in the middle of nowhere, more sun-beaten space than anything. People, animals, all combined look like nothing but ants to all this land. Not all of it suitable for farming, or even grazing. At least not yet.


    The soil underneath is rich, but the topmost layers of hard dirt, dust and rocks require a lot of work. So much so, it''s hard to see a profit.


    But every single farm and building we passed had to start from somewhere exactly like this.


    Besides, open empty space is good in it''s own way. Making a neutral meeting ground. The only reason why people come to this particular town.


    It has a huge outside track and meeting range!


    At various times a year, farmers, merchants and mostly business to business folks converge out here to not only make deals but gather information, network, and share their prospects. It''s a little bit like a sort of convention ground?


    That''s a decent comparison to my senses.


    Riding up past the gates is quick and easy, the identifier that Damask wears along with father''s badge giving us the quick pass access through security and normal entrances. Everywhere we pass, people stop and stare.


    Perhaps they are impressed with Damask''s breeding, physique and speed. The majority of them are men working in a relevant field where horses and steeds are indispensable. Though they could just like a nice horse the same way modern people look at cars.


    Maybe they''re staring in awe at the seeing the infamous fiend in person, even if for a moment. The flash of his dark red hair a rarity in these parts. His reputation, whispered on only the darkest drunkest nights, in conjunction to his status as the one who dared to take over the Ventrella estate by marrying the famed hero''s one and only daughter.


    Pfffft like any of you weaklings were going to do it? The things some rumors say. I don''t know who else would be able to tame the train wreck that is mother.


    Yes, many reasons they could be staring.


    It is absolutely not because the big scary red villain, who schemed his way into marry such wealth and power, is riding with a fluffy ribboned little toddler in his shirt. Nope. Not that at all.


    Even if that was the case, I am pathetically small and adorable ok! No shame! No judging!


    When we get further into the paved areas, father finally allowed me out to sit like a decent person. Though I am still forced to sit right in between his legs, like some helpless swooning maiden who can''t even steer. Could Lilyanne steer her own horse without aid? I can''t recall?


    No shame I am three. No shame at all.


    "Halt," father lightly commands, slowing us down to ''park''.


    When we disembark, I am forced to cling on to his neck. The man giving me no other choice of escort down from the horse. My still pathetically short arms hardly leveraging enough, but hang on I do. Though father does support me from the butt as well.


    One day I shall grow bigger, but at three and half, today is not that day.


    Like the smart girl she is, Damask is set free to park herself wherever she so pleases. Off to be pampered at the VIP stables like the pedigree star she is, stable hands chasing after in confusion.


    It''s not only the stable hands who are confused. The subtle stares and past by whispers do not stop. It''s even bordering on rude how the strangers stare.


    I look around from the height and comfort of my father''s arms, staring back with the free and blameless gaze afforded to small children.


    Noblemen in their finery, gazing silently as others do all their work and whims for them.


    Businessmen, merchants and their aids, bartering and trading about among one another.


    Farmers and craftsmen, advertising if not outright selling their wares. Deals and contracts being made with handshakes and various levels of official parchment, insuring their business much more securely than a mere word or verbal promise.


    All sorts of men, regardless of class or age, about to set bets on the next horse race if they haven''t already done so.


    I regretfully look down to how mother fussed, primmed and poofed me this morning. A floofy little lady''s dress, fat laces, cloth flowers, and cute layers tripping all my edges. Even right down to my sunny little bonnet, ribbons and stockings. All my cuteness standing out like the only clean spot on a dirty surface.


    Why I am the only ''lady'' here!


    I mean, there''s a few working wives and daughters with the farmers and merchants. And that stern but efficient old woman managing the outdoor bar tap over there. Not like there'' no women, though commoners, at all. But I stand out like a sore thumb!


    Of course, this is not the sort of place a typical good to do lady would find herself in. Very boring men''s work. Filthy too if we''re taking the standards a delicate pampered lady would be used to in home and society.


    It''s almost exactly the same kind of reaction I would get all the time in the past, stepping into a place where ''ladies'' don''t belong.


    But I''m only three right now! Being escorted, by my own father! What''s with all the staring? It''s even more so, by far, than the looks of politely concealed distaste whenever I went anywhere before.


    "My Lord! Oh my, the Lord graces us!" cries an elderly man from afar.


    When father brings us closer, I can somewhat recognize him as a village elder from one of the local southern farms closer to my home manor estate. As well as few other vaguely familiar faces. Other villagers and farmers, like the middle-aged uncle who first let father churn his own butter. Starting him on that awful spell of spinning churners. As well as some of the builders we''ve contracted to work on the mills, roads and various other construction projects still in the works.


    All of them oddly throwing themselves down on their knees, as if in great worship of a deity.


    Quite a terrifying sight really.


    Father, please make them get up. Father this is embarrassing.


    Alas, this demon is just too used to people throwing themselves at his feet. Men, women, young and old alike. All for various reasons I hope.


    It''s the internal builders that are the worst. The ones who draft and design their own works, the practical architects and engineers of this world. Sure everyone enjoys getting paid with an extra job, an extra commission, but this goes beyond sucking up to your boss. I believe they sincerely worship him, not just in fear, in the same vein the home accounting department cries over father.


    Tears and borderline insane devotion in their eyes, running down their burly faces and beards. They act as if they pray and grovel hard enough, father might just bless them with another project, a new innovative design of something. Some of those designs were almost directly from me, but in my position and age I shall graciously let father draft, tinker, and take all the credit.


    Seriously father, stop them! Is this not enough of a power play? Have you been desensitized of all shame?!


    Is this mother''s fault? She is the most embarrassing person to be around...


    "Alrights, righty get your bootizes up an at em. You all scaring za zittle young miss!" a very elderly and weak-looking woman wacks at them with her broom. Literally sweeping them out the way if they didn''t get up.


    Thank you, broom granny. I shall impart to you, and solely you, the next dustpan model.


    Perhaps a large janitorial size to take care of...larger human-sized trash? Yes, mental note to improve trash can models.


    Grampa needs them around the troops I''m sure.


    "-ppppppppumpkin!"


    Huh? Must be because I thought of the crazy old man. I''m hearing things. It''s so loud around here, with all these people. Such a hustle and bustle. I shouldn''t unnecessarily scare myself like that.


    "Puuuuuuuuumkinoooodledumpkin!!!"


    Wait what''s that very loud dust cloud coming at us?


    Without much more time for thought, father has me spinning and held up high, out of harm''s way from whatever just created a grampa sized hole through that packed haystack.


    Oh god, that could have been me in there.


    "It''s good to see you as well honored father." my own father respectfully addresses the hole, ignoring my fearful clinging as if this were all normal.


    It actually, sadly, is.


    "Freddy!" a wild grampa pops out, arms wide open.


    This time father cannot dodge and avoid. It''s a two in one attack, grampa''s broad muscular arms lifting up both father and me in an overly enthusiastic hug of a greeting.


    Oooompf. I''m being squished to death here. Bad Rosalia sandwich. Very bad muscle sandwich. No more Rosalia sandwiches!


    "I trust you''ve been well. Thank you again for taking such care of the girls in our absence, I know they''re quite the handful." father says, still lifted into the air by grampa''s hulking strength.


    "Eeehhh wasn''t much, not like I could take the kiddos out- out."


    Grampa sighs wistfully, perhaps fantasizing about how much more he could have wildly tortured us if not for Gable, and his strict ''have them back by dinner time'' rule.


    "We appreciated that. Please do not while they''re so small and easy to snuff out," father nods in response.


    "Now I don''t mind it, but someone else still isn''t too happy about you slicing a bed in half last you picked the girls up. " grampa finally puts the grown man down, and thus me, still trapped in father''s not so protective hold.


    Oh sweet oxygen. How I miss thee.


    "Ah. That." father seems to consider something not quite pleasant, but ultimately waves the thought off like a pesky fly, "Well, can''t please everyone. I''ve already sent the orders to re-furnish your cabin after you left. There are other matters to see to, even beyond here. Nothing out of place."


    "Productive as always, ain''t ya Freddy boy?" grampa adjusts back up the hood to his not so disguise. A small concealment charm in place and activated on his body.


    While he''s not exactly hiding who he is, it wouldn''t do to advertise his presence so obviously.


    Wouldn''t want some mass fan stampedes or anymore bowing.


    Waving off the farmers that have already saw him and the property damage he left, grampa winks and smiles. Shushing them to go back to their business as usual and not say anything.


    The good people, being maybe too used to their technically reigning Lord, my grandfather, and his antics, follow suit. Playing cool in their various ways. Even the builders, though they do wistfully have to force themselves to let my father out of their sights.


    How embarrassing.


    "Walk and talk with me." grampa leads, stealing me out of my father''s arms. When he walks, it''s naturally large and heavy, though silent, steps.


    "Isn''t that what we''re doing?" the fiend follows along, elegantly keeping pace. Freed from carrying me, he finally activates his own subtle concealment charms, disguised as cuff links or buttons on his clothes.


    "I don''t know. I never actually know with you."


    "You praises are too much."


    "How is the mead and beer brewing?"


    "It is as you predicted. Heavy hail and a longer late frost has affected other lands. We''re still waiting for reports from the east but my sources say it''s affected to as far at mid-ride North. They haven''t resorted to officially pleading yet, but aid has been requested in various forms of excuses. How contemptible."


    "That''s too bad. My vineyards batches are turning out well! Not the best years, gotta admit, but they bottle better. The grapes are still fat and the vines are strong."


    "Only when carefully pruned. Rot, vermin and disease are always lying under the foliage as we have clearly recently seen. But yes, we have more than enough being produced, in addition to the granaries. The alert to stockpile and secure after last year''s shortage has been quietly worked on. This year''s output so far was only mildly an improvement, but against other territories'' losses, it''s remarkably significant. To be fair, our weather conditions are more favorable."


    "That''s great! I always said poop was great, we have much from the troops and stables and they work just fine in the greenhouses! But nooooo one likes listening to me till it works. But somehow you all listen to the baby. It''s because she''s cute isn''t she?!" grampa idiotically pokes at my cheek.


    While I am very happy to be finally hearing about the anti-famine preventative measures and news, I don''t know why grampa always chooses such awful times and places.


    Can''t we be somewhere more fortified, and a lot less public?!


    But there''s nowhere for me to interject into this conversation. It''s a little frustrating but I have nothing to contribute here. Nothing to add on or ask.


    Children and women should be seen and not heard. I feel like a prime example of this right now.


    "A processed and ready made form does much better with the public. Bottled or dried pellets. Most buyers aren''t agricultural workers themselves who handle the matter, and won''t know well enough. The first market batches will be sold here, but production is kept overtly complicated, hidden, even as widely dispersed in our own territory. Our people have other things to distract themselves with, plenty in their daily lives. "


    "I hear old Serra''s boys are coming back! And old farmer Luigi''s grandkid, dragged me down for 2 pints, roaring drunk to rave all about how he rubbed it in his face raw. But the lad met a nice girl to bring home and call his own, now that''s something to celebrate."


    Grampa talks a little the way he walks. Strong, bold, with a little too much-exaggerated hand motions and facials expressions. Yet the louder he is the more he seems to become invisible, blending into the faceless crowds. I don''t know how he does it but I know it has nothing to be with magic charms at all.


    "Well, I said we''d try to make to the wedding, up to our Maria. She loves those things! Hope those kids don''t take it too hard. Cities and wild adventures sure aren''t as easy to strike it rich as those youngsters always seem to think." grampa waves around his free hand, somehow keeping me perfectly steady as he hops and steps about the stalls and aisles.


    All sorts of wares pull the eye, hawkers and advertisements further overloading the senses, competing for attention.


    No more staring. Not even a passing glance. No one notices us anymore.


    "The shortages affect larger populations of inner cities the most with rising prices. Goods, rent, fees, the cost of living let alone supporting a family. Returning countryside, while not a statement of pride, could be far more lucrative than suffering in the downward limited situation." father follows along, never more than a step behind.


    His face is the same, devilishly cut and primmed. His subtly placed expensive gems still shine, and his pockets still look richly stealable from as ever He''s not even wearing a proper hat to cover his trademark bloody locks. Let alone a rough rugged hood like grampa, playing peasant. But no one looks, no one really sees.


    It''s oddly intimate. To be so secluded, our own little invisible bubble in between all these people.


    "The construction all of last year, news of it now gives people hope of better prospects. The port is already open, and always expanding. The road renovations and new bridges. The dotting mills. It''s simply attractive." father lists out.


    Part of me is already lost, confused in the slew of information.


    Another part finds it a very familiar feeling, even though I''ve never been here.


    Scenes of Rosalia play in my mind as if there were my own recollections. A girl still young and short enough to need extra lifts to her chair, struggling over deciphering father''s notes and codes in his abanded offices. Turning and twisting over grampa''s illegible scribbles, trying to make sense of any clues.


    Those two, despite all appearances and differences, aren''t an incompatible pair. The way they work and the way they operate. Grampa covers a wide range, father takes care of the details. Layers and layers of influences webbed further, tighter between then and the spectrums they cover.


    A lady''s place is forbidden in too many parts of the world. Especially one as young as I was then.


    I wonder then, not for the first time, nor the first life, if it would have been different if I were born a boy. If a male heir had been blessed to this household instead of someone such as I.


    Would they have included me more?


    Would it have been easier?


    Would they have even cared?


    The answer does not have to be spoken out loud. I already know a truth that obvious by now.


    "In the end, the tastes of our home brewed wine really is the best!" grampa laughs, tasting the wares.


    Barrels stacked on barrels. The undiluted red wine flowing a little too freely to be samples. He tips in his old flask as if it were a free water fountain, chugging down the merlot.


    "Your orders?" father looks bored, pulling out a crystal glass from seemingly nowhere. Swirling the liquid, letting it breathe, the way he drinks is entirely different but no less.


    "Depends, what did you tell them?"


    "Inconclusive. We need more than their petty flattery and tricks to open up our stores. We can afford it, despite what they may say in retaliation, but we''re not a charity. Honored father, you would not have asked me to look into this without a gross payoff."


    "Think you''ll get any souvenir Tuica from those kiddos you sent East? They call it white lighting, in how the alcohol burns ya! Ah the plum brandy on the way back is pretty darn good as well, you prefer brandy don''t you!"


    ".....results have yet to be verified, especially by direct injection. I still don''t trust them. Especially not the servent. Do not mistaken me. Your final orders?"


    "Oooooo Stigghiola! I was looking for something to much on with my drink! "


    "The smokers have been upgraded and increased in capacity yes. Freezing creates less product loss though, and reports say the taste is more popular compared to salting and brining. We sold much less meat produced from this years hunt to focus on this ''rations'' research. "


    "Oh, that''s nice too! But I was being serious. Want one, Freddy?" grampa points to a street stall, literally grilling up skewers of deliciously smokey cheap meat.


    Father blinks. Looks down at the poor man''s offerings. And excitedly chooses the cheapest thing ever, deep-fried pollenta fritters, like a fancy spoiled child allowed the rare treat of terrible greasy fast food.


    "...I''ll have the panelle...fascinating..." his eyes sparkle.


    "Great! We''ll get both! Ooo and some stuffed Ascolana olives, nothing says the terrible crowds like deep fried fare! I bet our pumpkin is starving! Just look at her glaring at me to death! Ah yes, the eyes of hunger!"


    "...hmmpf!" I pout and turn away in his arms, just to make a point. How rude.


    The menfolk of my terrible family then spend the next ten or so minutes waving greasy food on a stick, trying to temp and lure me out of my self induced ball. Eventually, I must give in, otherwise it will get cold and lose its tastiness.


    While I''m glad the anti-famine measures have been progressing so well, and there''s admittedly nothing I can do on my own, it''s a little offputting to be so out of the loop. Marketing and selling fertilizers? Limiting trade? Stockpiling? Smokers? Freezers? Requests for international aid already started?


    While I roll around playing singing dress up, or napping with toddler Lilyanne, everyone else is getting actual productive work done.


    I know it can''t be helped. I know I need grampa to mysteriously convey my future warnings, in the most unnaturally effective ways. I need him to take credit and command. The same way I need father to stand in front of all my random modern inventions and conveniences. It wouldn''t be possible without them.


    My power would be nothing without them.


    I hate it. I hate having no standing of my own. I hate the cold stares who only see the shadow of wealth and riches these men built before me. Eyeing me as a mere inconvenience to swallow up. AS if I''m nothing but a little girl playing in her elder''s work chair. As If I didn''t, couldn''t hold up the Ventrella name on my own.


    "Is it too salty pumpkindoo? Stinky? She''s making a weird face."


    "Well honored father, you did offer her a stick of lightly seasoned but ultimately very salted animal intestines, grilled to a crisp. Rosalia has always enjoyed a strange variety for a sheltered child but children tend not to enjoy that as much as men with a drink."


    "Juice! She needs her juicey! Oh I am so dumb sometimes!"


    I glare and sigh when the big bad powerful hero tries squirting a slice of lemon over my food, on a stick right in front of him mind you, only to get it in his eyes and scream over sideways.


    So heroic. I am so assured to trust my life and fragile future in such capable hands.


    "Grampa...get up....father do something about him." I finally break out of my brooding thoughts, no longer able to watch this farce.


    "How did the first of mankind think to collect enough oil to fry things so thoroughly?" the other supposedly much smarter man in my life pokes and awes over some damn fritters.


    "Father....father please."


    "...and where did they think to try it with mashed chickpeas? Wouldn''t it be too easy to dissolve? Was it desperation that drove them to it? Tastes like a long term disease, how delightful."


    "I''m fine! Just gotta wash out my eyes, aaaand aaah that''s wine not water!"


    Can I have one functioning adult in my young life? Please!


    Gable, oh dearest Gable, please adopt me into your hermit forest life and take me away from here.


    My prayers go unanswered and I munch on my street food in cheap comfort. Ah the taste of greasy meats, would really go well with some strong wine. I cry into each bite. It seems I can only really rely on Alfonso to raise me.


    The mood has changed to something very light as it is stupid, losing all the importance of their previous hidden discussion. Eventually, the clowns move on, picking me back up with them.


    The crazy old man and the nerd strangely in their natural element window shopping around busily and pointing at weird things.


    Very tiny horse saddles? Industrial sized vats for unknown purposes? Scam magic stones that promise amazing things too good to be true at these bargain prices? The race show? More alcohol?


    It''s awful.


    I make them buy me another fair food snack, it''s the least they could do dragging me around like this.


    It''s when I was munching on my second stick of the day, a grilled red octopus of some kind, while the grown menfolk discussed the pros and cons of horse oil or something, that I noticed a very lonely merchant.


    No, it was more their great brown stacks, loaded by the wagon fulls in their lot. Various wooden signs with black writing, scratching out the prices cheaper and cheaper in hopes of a buyer. With obviously no results. A seemingly empty space of people avoided the awkward air of an overly desperate seller.


    I toddled up, still munching.


    "Extremely cheap! What a deal! Your animals would thank you if they could talk! Such a fine fodder! At such low low low, I can make it lower please don''t walk away, prices! " a young man pathetically tries, and fails, at attracting any attention outside scared maybe pitiful looks.


    Sitting on the sacks fodder, an old man and a little girl of about 10, most likely relatives, shake their heads at the sight. As if waiting for him to just give up so they could go home already. Their appearances were worn, but neat enough. Healthy though poor. That''s the impression they gave off.


    There was a lot of those type of folks anywhere you go, but especially so in this rural world. I thought nothing more of it as I turned back around before grampa or father noticed I was gone, though I hadn''t stepped far.


    That was until the terrible merchant kicked and tripped over me.


    "Ack! No my octopus! I didn''t get to finish eating you!!!" I couldn''t help but mourn on the ground. What a waste, my summer grilled squid! It needed some soy sauce, but still good!


    "Ow! What the-"


    "My octo! Use your brain and eyes a little and watch it!" I clamor, bumped but overall unharmed from all the hay layering the ground.


    I''ve been through worse. A lot more painful hits from rude little brats, muscle-bound troop drill sergeants, and the wild shenanigans that is grampa. Whose''s grandchild did the fates of the world make me? I don''t think I bruise as easily anymore after all that.


    "Eh? It...it talks?!" the young man fearfully backs up.


    "Brother?!" the little girl gasps.


    "Oh my. Oh my dear! Are you alright?!! My humblest apologies, spare them, young miss. Are you harmed? "


    Only the old man rushes up to my aid, though he does so slowly on a cane. I could snap at how rude his apparent grandkids are, but I''ve been raised better than that.


    "Such a pretty doll! Brother I''ve never seen one so fancy! It can talk!?"


    "I don''t know!!!"


    "If we sell it, it would make so much!!!"


    Really now, very rude of them.


    Out of nowhere, I''m lifted up high into the air. Familiar thick hands inspecting me like a sack of flour, patting my tummy and butt. My own grampa blows the dust off me and I cough but seemingly pass his inspection none the less.


    My dress got dirty though? As long as mother doesn''t notice?


    "Every bone." unfortunately father has.


    A dreadful aura finally makes itself known to me, swirling around and behind like a graded hurricane. A true black bubble has made its barrier from the outside world. At the center of the storm stands father, still as the dead, face dark.


    "Even if you pay with every bone in your body, it won''t be enough," he looks down, rasps out like a foreboding curse.


    The old man drops to the floor, bowing low on all fours, not even begging for mercy while the foolish youngsters clutch each other, shivering violently behind.


    "Freddy calm down. Freddy~" grampa tries, waving me up in a puppy dog hold. "It''s kinda our fault for letting her wander, it can be my fault if you want?"


    Taking mercy on the innocent old man at the very least, I try to placate my father with grampa. Key word, try.


    "Papa. I''m fine. It''s not the grandfather''s fault. Papa?"


    When I hold out my pathetically short arms, bundles in the floofy sleeves and layers of my dress, father seems as if he''s possessed by a force. Slowly he turns his head over, the chilling blank look of death with him. Like the devil plucking an apple, he carefully takes me back into his hold, forcing me through a whole another round of physical inspection. The dark threatening storm barely contained with me sacrificed as a hostage.


    "Forgive them my Lord, I have failed to raise these pitiful orphans. They know not their sins." the old man coughs weakly, still covering for the shaking young pair.


    What a headache.


    "Father. This old grandfather already has a very hard time. Look he has such rude and stupid grandkids. The boy kicked me and the girl said they should sell me as a doll for money? He must suffer a lot. I think if we leave them as is, that will be more than enough punishment?"


    Oh wow, I don''t think that worked at all. It sure got a lot more dreary feeling around here, the invisible hurricane picking up danger level winds.


    Alright, that''s enough. I rather not deal with bloodshed today.


    "Papa?" I try distracting him, pawing at his chest.


    Understandably my cuteness is not enough to contest against my father''s insulted honor. As a Ventrella, it is my duty to be treated and seen with respect especially in public. Father''s pride as a traditional noble may not deal well with the slight that is me being pushed over today in this manner.


    "...Kicked?...Sold? All excellent and fair exchanges." father smiles down at me.


    Ah, those kids are screwed.


    "Or," grampa interjects, "we just buy our baby girl another grilled thing on a stick?"


    "Impalement? Another good option." father considers.


    I''m pretty sure someone pees their pants in fear. Meanwhile, the old man still grovels, apologizing with all his being against the powerful noble his family slighted. While I do feel quite bad for him, the cowering grandkids put me in a bad mood. And I don''t just mean from earlier.


    "You!" I point over to the young man, trapped in my father''s no unrelenting arms, "are you really going to hide in the back this whole time? Help him up! Useless! Just like your sales pitch! Papa? He''s the one that kicked my snack, just make him buy me another one."


    "....No."


    "Father!" I motion him down to climb and whisper in his ear the best I can, "I don''t actually want an innocent old man to keel over from a heart attack. That puts a bad taste in my mouth. Capiche?"


    "...Well. If it will ruin your appetite." father finally relents. Immediate execution and torture off the menu.


    I nod in appreciation.


    "B-but-"


    "Silence! Both of you! Thank you! Thank you oh kind and generous one for your mercy. We do not deserve it. We have little nothing to offer, hardly two coins to scrape together. Spare the young ones. Please, if it does not displease you, my family and I offer you all our wares."


    The grandchildren protest to their still bowing grandfather. I find them quite an eye sore, still uselessly being protected at their ages.


    These kind of citizens? Really a tiresome draining type. I don''t need to wonder what kind of useless adults they''ll make.


    "Get up. Father, make him get up, this also leaves a bad taste in my mouth. As for the fodder that no one wants to buy? I heard that doesn''t sound very good?" I point again, "Is it poison? Why are you trying to get rid of it so badly?"


    "They''re our land''s-" the girl tries speaking up, apparently having more of a backbone, until the grandfather sushes her.


    "If I may be so rude but to answer.... Our family has toiled and guarded our plots in the Marches region. But the land...is not for forgiving, our fields easily flood to swamps. Another wild grain has interbred with our crops resulting in these. They still make for a fine and safe fodder for the animals. This poor farmer only wishes to provide a living with what we can. "


    "Ok, whatever. Pack it up. Papa buy me another octo, I''m still hungry. And don''t send the guards after him or anything, I know you will. I feel bad enough," I throw a few of my pocket change at the elder, the best I can do as I am unable to get down from my prison.


    The Marches region is eastward of here, and definitely past my own family''s territory further south. The upcoming famine will affect the common people the most. I''ll think of it as charity towards the elderly. It''s also my own fault for coming over to watch in the first place, can''t even blame grampa there.


    I''m like a little cloud of bad luck.


    "Too much like your mother." Father sighs as we walk away, no longer wishing to waste any more of our time. That is fair, though I don''t understand what he means by that statement.


    "Rosie! Lookie look! It''s a bigger better one!" grampa waves another stick in front of my face, trying to placate me. One with a much larger grilled squid thing on it.


    It''s not as cute looking as my octo-pop, but it does look tasty when it''s been battered up like that. My saliva glands already working at the steaming sight. Both men seem to sigh in relief when I accept the snack bigger than my own face.


    That is until a wild stampede of escaped horses, some of them still with their race tags on time, runs by in a whirl. The wind and motion making me drop my snack, again.


    Nooooooo not the squid too!


    It''s just not my day! Why oh why?!


    "AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!! Bad muscle floofies!!!" screams a small child, caught trapped on one of the renegade horses.


    "Lukas?!" I feel my jaw-dropping, unfortunately recognizing the child.


    "Huh? Swore I left him in the petting zoo section? " grampa strokes at his chin.


    "There''s no petting zoo?!" I yell at him.


    Once again, everything is grampa''s fault. Somehow.


    "I should probably do something about that," grampa decides.


    "Yes. Please get rid of it." father responds by promptly turning around and taking me the other way. In a way that says, nope, not our problem.


    Amazingly, without taking a single step, grampa has the problem solved? The horses slowly halt, as if paralyzed, or suddenly tired. A screaming child loud in the distance is no longer screaming, as much.


    "Oh. We should run." grampa turns right around with father and I, intent on booking it.


    "I believe an honored father. It is really too late. "


    "Aw come on Freddy! Where''s your sense of-"


    The confused and panicking crowds disappear. Quite literally fade into dulled outlines of themselves.


    Quiet as the night, light footstep echos, along with Lukas''s little voice going "ow ow ow ow ear ow ow ow."


    Without seeing anyone, a heavenly voice echoes around the open space, drowning out the strange background noise. Getting closer and closer.


    "When I said, you can take him out to play, this was not what I meant. "


    Hallelujah! My prayers are answered! An angel of mercy and goodness has descended! Though the elfen angel named Gable, does not look too happy right now, carrying a horse pack called Lukas with him.


    "I swore I just left him in the petting zoo. It was so safe and nice and he likes it!" grampa holds his hands out in defense.


    "There''s not...a single ...petting... zoo here!" Gable snarls back.


    Oh the common sense. Oh the beauty. If I wasn''t being held up and supported already I may have swooned.


    As glad as I am that Gable is here, where''s the exit to this thing? Father and I awkwardly stand there, rather trapped in between in all. And I dropped my calamari!


    "Frederick." Gable turns to address, his other hand already bunched to drag the back of my whimpering grampa''s neck and cloak.


    "Sir," father respectfully bows.


    ".....control your bed destroying tendencies...how old do you think you are already? Come. There are safer places to talk." and with that Gable turns around, completely pulling along not one but two Ventrella men through the fog.


    By the time it lifts, we end up on a wooden balcony table, a bar or tavern-like restaurant I suppose. One that oversees over the track and market aisles, but in a much more secluded and quiet location away from any panicking crowds or animal control.


    Amazing. All praise Gable!


    Oh if I could only run and swoon properly into his responsible safe arms. But alas, he simply releases Lukas on the balcony, indicating for the menfolk to join for a moment inside at the bar.


    "We''ll be right back children. Yes, with some snacks. Do not, I repeat, do not jump over and leave this balcony. Either of you." Gable''s perfect mildly stressed face peers at us, glaring enchanting grey eyes down at... Lukas.


    Oh the lucky little brat! He gets all the attention with his troublemaking ways.


    The heavy VIP wooden door to the inside slams, and I see no more.


    Well at least I got the view from the balcony. Wow, what a mess! It''s like some crazed goblin of a monster went and released half the stables!


    "Red. Angry looking. Smells less stinky and more sour, yep! This one is Rosa! Hi Rosa!!!" Lukas screams into my ear.


    The worse part is when the monster child pulls me into a bone crushing hug, dangling my little legs up in the air. Oooompf!


    "Bad Lukas! No. Bad! No Rosalia wrap either! Bad mochi wrap....air..."


    "You breathe really really loud Rosa!"


    How does a little mochi have so much strength? It''s not even evenly distributed. Instead of the pure overwhelming suffocation of mother or grampa, it''s like a rubber band has tied to my squishy body and will snap me in twos or threes. I think I hear my spine snapping.


    "Gable says I can''t have any fluffies because of lots of stuff. Like I''m no wee pons stable. So I thought if I visited lots of big stables that would fix it! They were so fluffy!" he blabbers, readjusting my organs and bones.


    "...Put...me down."


    "Ok! Hey Rosa! How does your hair get redder every time! Do you really stick your head in juice?! If I stick mine in snow will that turn it white? Or yellow in cheese? The stinky baby stuck cheese on my head before and that made it yellow and green but Gable says that color is called mold. I smell like hay and fluffies! But I like more fluffies. Muscles fluffies are kinda too weird for the awesome me right now, they don''t listen right when running. But they''re cool!"


    When he does plop me down, it''s on the ground. And immediately after he picks through my hair like a monkey picking for bugs, or the maids picking the stray cheese out of my sister''s hair.


    I try not to think about how his brain operates. It''s just...a little too much.


    "Horses are cool. Help me look for one with a gold body, white dots, and black hooves and mane." I sigh, already given up on this child.


    "Ok! It''s like that game Eye flies!"


    "Eye spy Lukas. "


    "Hey, that''s cheating!"


    "....just help me look for the horse if it''s down there. She''s not very big, because she''s still young."


    "Ok! But I didn''t hear or see one like that! And I petted lots of floofies in lots of colors!"


    Aw, well that''s too bad. I was hoping for my first horse to be around somewhere.


    Given, I don''t have to follow things out from the first lifetime. But somehow, it just feels wrong if I didn''t get some things. Like revenge. Or my ponies.


    Besides, I miss Adorita.


    "What''s an adoria?! It''s it yummy?" Lukas still monkey picks at hair from behind my head.


    "No. Of course not. That''s the name of my horse, I just need to find her."


    "Oh! How come you have a fluffy already but I don''t!"


    Reasoning does not always work. Like speaking with drunks people on the job, communicating with Lukas takes not only a lot of patience but creativity. And a lot of excuses.


    "...because... my house owns lots of stables?"


    "Ohhhhhhhhh! Yeah, that makes sense. I''mma ask cap if we can build em too so that way Gable can''t wee I''m only a wee stable anymore. It''s gonna be a big one! Where did you get your floofie!"


    "My Adorita?"


    "Yeah that funny name one! Where! And what does that mean? It doesn''t sound like a Rosa word!"


    "Well if you must know, Adorita means something like adore. Because I adore her and .... "


    "And what!"


    "....and...I got her...." my memory stalls, splutter. I know it but I don''t.


    "Ooooooh you don''t remembers! I can waits!"


    "No....no it''s not...I got her...from my father."


    In a sense...I received all my pets from my father. I had to. There are no other means for me to get them as a child? That''s not a big deal?


    Right?


    Adorita?


    I adore you.


    As a little girl, I really adored my Adorita.


    But I didn''t, or I wasn''t.....I didn''t name her that?


    "What will be her name?" a red shadow had asked.


    Father had longer hair then, long enough to tie and braid. In sunlight, it looked even brighter, as if it were hot to touch.


    I remember how I couldn''t answer. I remember feeling sick. A little hot with shame...or nerves...something like that. I was sick? Right, I had a fever from falling somewhere?


    "I don''t know." I had answered.


    "Surely you must?" that intimidating figure questioned back. Why was my heart beating so fast? Fearfully? Why does the father of the past feel so much taller?


    "....forgive me lord father. I do not know...I do not know enough names to pick... a good one... or for a horse."


    I was bold that day. My youth and condition perhaps making me act out. The fear and awe of such a gift. It made me speak out without controlling myself like I was so carefully trained to surpress.


    I feel all the more shame to admit, but perhaps....had I dared ask father to name my first horse for me?


    "It can''t be helped if you must take after your mother.....Adora... Adorita then. Can you say that properly Rosalia?"


    "Adorita. -ita? Small? Small adore? Because she''s small? "


    "My, a bit quicker witted than my Maria. There may be hope for you yet. Take care of her. After all, I can''t just so easily get you another horse. They''re not toys to be trifled with."


    A lie and a truth. I had 5 personal horses in my stable, while not exactly easy to get I got them. They were not toys, but living breathing creatures, very dear to even the most heartless of a villainess.


    In order...


    Adorita, my gentle working first horse. An easy favorite. The kindest and easiest to ride. The only one of my stable to let even Lilyanne sit on her back.


    Radicchio came next. I was right to let someone else name my Adorira, for I named my second horse on my own, after a vegetable. A literal radicchio, a chicory plant, for the reddish white color of his coat. Poor Radicchio, his master was such a terrible name giver. No wonder he was so wildly stubborn so often.


    Caprice. Goodness gracious to think he was intended for Lilyanne? Caprice had a beautiful coat and appearance, very attractive to many a delicate young ladies. Only Caprice was...quite...violently unpredictable. Deemed too dangerous for the youngest miss, and thrown over to my slightly more experienced care. Again, I admit, my terrible naming sense came in. For I was enjoying a Caprese salad when the decision was made.


    Biscotti. Color of sweet biscuits. I was a bad namer, we have established this. Damn it. I hated Biscotti so much, absolutely impossibly intelligent little foul. Can''t believe she came out of Damask and Gino''s puppy horse gene pool. Absolutely hate. A mother does not play favorites! Hate so much. So cute. Going to take some years for her to be born.


    Last but not least there was Mignon. A lovely imported baby, Philippe wishes he got Mignon. The absolutely adorable thing with a buckling streak. Could thow you off and stomp you down into a morbidly named little petite steak.


    Why oh why did I keep naming them after what I was eating or wanting to eat? Except for Adorita, the only one named by father. Why?! What was wrong with me?


    "Oh oh oh I know! A lot! More than your horsies! How many horsies? You talk too much around and round in a little voice. But that''s your super power! Like me being awesome!"


    "....Thank you Lukas."


    "You''re welcome!!!"


    Lukas is still too loud as always, even as he plays with my hair and I sigh into the recollection of information. I''m doing that thing where I''m about to overthink again.


    So what if father gave me all my horses, or named Adorita in the first place. It doesn''t mean anything in the end, and I need to stop from instinctively searching anyways.


    It''s just pathetic at my age, mental I mean. Really sad and pathetic. Someone who doesn''t know how to let go will only meet a bad ending. I have already met mine.


    There''s plenty of other things to think about, to analyze, and predict. This isn''t one of them. The sooner I let go, really truly let go, of the things this body wants to hold on to, the lighter and freer I''ll be.


    You should trust me, Rosalia, I would know.


    In fact, my head feels lighter and cooler already. How refreshing in this heat.... Wait.


    "Oh! It really is red on the inside too! Not juice! Haha! Cool! Oh! Oooops!"


    "....Lukas....what''s that dust and what are you doing to my hair?"


    "I froze it. And broke it! How super cool, I didn''t even use ice! Man I''m so amazing."


    Frantically reaching up, I feel the top and sides of my head. Uneven jagged icicles replace what was once my hair, if it''s there at all?! What are these sharp short ends?! What?!! I don''t mind getting another annual haircut but what is this?!


    "Try it!" Lukas demonstrates, snapping off another frozen curly lock to drop in my hand.


    I''m pretty sure I screamed.


    "Lukas!!! What did you do now?" Gable comes running first, blocking off if not already dismissing my own relatives.


    "Being awesome! Look!" the brat snaps another increasingly red handful. My hair apparently not the only thing frozen here.


    Finally, I get to swoon and cry into Gable''s arms today. At no small cost but hey, I can afford it.

 129 Dont jump.

    That something was my hair??! I''m almost bald you damn brat. That excuse of a sorry isn''t going to cut it!


    Even worse, my own mother got mad, at me. The innocent party! Gable salvaged what was left on my head, even it out, but mother still screamed like a banshee when she saw my lack of locks. Locks that for a long while will not see any more pigtails, buns, or any other cute little style.


    Awaiting the verdict, the grand judge, the great fearsome mother, lays down her mallet of judgment.


    "Ohhh you pooooor thing! I understand completely!" mother sobs, snuggling the boy back and forth in her deadly hold.


    ....What?


    "It''s just sooooooo hard when everything breaks so easily, right?! You don''t mean to smashy and break things but why is it your fault? Why can''t other things be stronger?" mother sniffs and cries, squishing Lukas into a pounded mochi in her unrestrained affections.


    "Yeah! That!" Lukas exclaims, agreeing exactly, somehow molding and surviving.


    Ah I see.


    They''re the same genus-group of monsters. Possibly made out of dough or mochi or some similarly resilient shit.


    A part of me is still having great difficulty computing the frail delicate memory of my lady mother into....this....or even in comparison to the hyperactive mess that is Lukas. But in the same way, it doesn''t register how that boy is the same mob character minion in the crowds of my death.


    It just literally does not match up.


    "They just break so easily!"


    "And then we get punished and lots and it''s not fair because I don''t mean for things to go crack or smack or -"


    "But they do! Bones break so easily!!! Oh darling!!!"


    Clutching one another, my mother has once again forgotten her own family to cry into the arms of another little boy. Another homewrecker of unfair soft cuteness, only this one comes in another color and extra squishy.


    Have we forgotten this sinner is the reason why I''ve been reduced to this state? Why I got in trouble with the great mother in the first place?


    I don''t mind short hair, really. But this is barely better than a buzzcut! This is some grampa approved military shit!


    "Awwww baby girl, look! It''s so much like those times way back when we had to shave you bald to prevent fleas!" grampa coos at me, all before receiving a pillow to the head.


    Somehow it was thrown with enough force to explode in feathery itchy death.


    "...fleas?" I repeat through the shower of feathers.


    "So many types of fleaaaas!" grampa disappears under the veil of slowly drifting feathers, a flash of something colored mother''s voluminous hair seemingly dragging him to shut up.


    "This is all your fault." I consider tackling the boy, but unfortunately, I don''t have any sharp hair shaving weapons on me.


    I don''t think bald will be a good look on him, but it''s only fair. Right now he''s too hatefully adorable, stealing the hearts of other people''s mothers. It''s the sailor suit, it must be. Today''s suit is a grey and white lined pattern material, cut in more of a vintage schoolboy design instead. This cut of cuteness is obviously stolen from my modern designs and recycled pile.


    Darn it Georgie!


    Selling out my draft designs to mother just like that? So easily!? Well, at least I know where she''s getting them from now.


    There is no loyalty.


    "Ahem, my young ''master'', if you are so interested, we may be able to tailor a... sailor suit of your own. In fact...." said bad assistant snickers in his place, carrying my cooing babbling sister.


    He''s beginning to look more professional, but who cares when his personality is like this? Who does he think he is?! Just wait, the first chance I get at picking up a pretty obedient cat boy OP fantasy world butler and Georgie is going back to the kitchen!


    "Oh no, my young ''master'' whatever are you doing in young Miss Lilyanne''s dresses? Do not fret. I have the solution." he breaks character every few seconds, laughter on his face.


    From behind he pulls out a rack, hanging even tinier boys'' clothes, bunched and sewn up perhaps, but still luxuriously small.


    Ah...I''m stuck with him, aren''t I?


    Meanwhile, Lilyanne seems to be trying non stop to reach for me. When Georgie finally puts her down to apparently select my new suit, she immediately comes to rub herself all over my head.


    "Ooooohhhh." the toddler marvels, feeling up the texture of short fuzz.


    "Ooooooooh Lily too! Lily want too!" she pulls at her own perfect curly locks, at three years old they''re as naturally long as reasonable, halfway between her rounded shoulders and chubby elbows.


    "No." I deadpan.


    "Lily too!" she shouts, turning over to the monster responsible. "Lily wanna same with Rosa too!"


    "Don''t you dare. I will scream and break your ears." I follow, glaring at Lukas to not try anything funny. Say accept my sister''s very strange request for an innovative hair cut.


    "I''m no dummy, if I do it again Gable gonna get mad. Again!" he shakes his little head, also perfect hair fluffy and bouncing in each cute shake.


    Ahhh I want to shave it off. I want my revenge. If anyone is getting another haircut it should be Lukas. Shave him bald. It prevents fleas after all.


    "If your hair is that important and stuffs let''s just ask for one of Amar''s weird candies. The one that made Cap grow his hair all super long to the floor and stuff!" Lukas exclaims to me. despite Lilyanne trying to headbutt him.


    Or is she rubbing her head at him?


    "Same wit Rosa." she sounds very determined.


    Lukas looks to be considering it and I already have my hand to pull my sister back before she loses one of her pigtails. Luckily the decision Lukas goes with is to swat her away, and off the seat.


    "Noooooo Lily want too." she clamors back.


    "Mother!" I call to the only one who can truly control this weird little girl.


    In a flash, the woman is right around the couch to fuss and coo over us. With grampa suddenly not only limp and weak but looking to be sporting a very sore jaw. Huh, he must have hit something? Mother and grampa can be very rough sometimes.


    "No no no my cutie patooties. You must get along and play nice." she tuts happily, pulling Lukas up and away from any short kiddie''s reach, cuddling him in her arms.


    Mother...we''ve been over this before, but it''s your daughter that you should be defending. Look Lilyanne. The chosen one. Your precious little girl. Though she doesn''t look too precious right now trying to climb and crawl right up mother''s dress. One who is trying to make herself bald in an imitation game.


    I should focus on teaching Lilyanne not to follow along and copy things so easily next. Goodness gracious she''s so damn impressionable. Even more so at this age!


    "Why is she like this?" I sigh a line I recall saying many times before.


    Only this time in a voice much younger and pathetic sounding. It''s as high as a squeaking kitten and I still occasionally lisp and miss a word. Though I hear it every day when I speak, I can''t help but sigh again at how odd and foreign it sounds.


    "That might be a good idea baby girl! It is flea season. Wouldn''t want them bugs make nests in our little Lilyanne''s hair like your-" grampa mentions before mother gestures for Georgie to take the children, then smacks at him with her free hands.


    "Oh ho ho ho! Papa you are just too much of a joker! However, will my little LADY be infested? Never! Of course not!" she giggles.


    "So that''s a no? Even if you know what that means?" grampa looks back, oddly serious.


    I look around, wondering if the mood has changed.


    "....I understand but...the girls'' safeties come first!" mothers says.


    "Of course! When would I ever risk that?"


    "Papa! Oh I won''t mention it right now, don''t distract me!"


    Ah yes, I just love it when grampa starts vaguely talking about something else that I don''t understand and am not privy too. Especially if it''s important any of my plots.


    That or I missed it getting distracted.


    "If it was just me papa, I wouldn''t mind at all. But the girls are different! I...I have to think of the children now. I won''t risk them getting sick again in any way."


    "Even if it means innocent people die?" grampa asks with a light tone, as if he were talking about the weather.


    Oh yeah, I definitely missed something. However, an uncomfortable feeling inside me says it sounds familiar. Something I know.


    Mother''s face is no longer smiling, but stubbornly she holds her stance.


    "The girls come first. My family comes first." she says without much thought, the lightness and clarity of her voice only make her statements crueler, "People die every day. Hundreds. Thousands. All-around and past where we can reach. Save one and that''s wonderful but there will still be countless more. We cannot save everyone. We are not...we''re not responsible for that!"


    "Is that you talking? Or your very smart and reasonable husband?"


    "You papa! You taught me that!"


    "Huh? Did I now?"


    Mother huffs, hitting him in the chest with another pillow repeatedly. It''s the only time I see this oddly childish side of mother, but I suppose it makes sense given that the crazy old man is literally her father.


    It''s an odd thing to think about.


    "The truth is papa, I want to say no. Absolutely not. I want to lock away my babies from all such dirty matters and raise them as proper lovely noble ladies. It''s only right! And they don''t even break anything, they can''t, they''re so wonderfully delicate and dainty. Just like real ladies!" mother''s emotions seem to be going up and down.


    The implications aside, that''s exactly how we were raised a lifetime ago. Sheltered would be underestimating it. Lilyanne was holed up in her sickbay tower, like any princess in a fairytale. While I got to live the fulfilling life of every overworked over ambitious student ever!


    History. Art. Mathematics. Poetry. Language studies. Fencing. Horse riding. Music. What could pass off as Micro and Macro Economics? Embroidery. Accounting. Political Science. Natural Science. Basic alchemical chemistry. Much much more history, god damn it, we do not need that much mundane history on the houses of aristocracy! Even fashionable philosophy, because who else can afford to sit around discussing such thoughts but the very wealthy and free?


    All that and more, on rotation according to my age and skill level at the time.


    Thus I had little to no free time. Ever.


    In my youth I had not so much involvement in anything to do with the troops. My education was either based at home with private tutors, father''s own strict orders, or the occasional appropriate class or lecture in a big city if not the midways lands on my visits. If the instructor was someone related to the troops, such as uncle Geoff in my light weapons training, they would travel to privately teach somewhere in the home villa.


    My family home is not a castle, but it is built like a fortress underneath. My sister and I never had to step out if we ever needed anything. Every material good was available and provided.


    How extremely limiting.


    "Have to admit, don''t know much there. Never did." grampa shrugs, half nonchalant and half tiredly apologetic to mother huffing.


    As if they had this conversation many times before.


    "I feel like, in another instance, I would accept your answer without another word. Because you''re right Maria, I did teach you that. Maybe not in ways that were best for us, but I did. We can''t save them all, and we can''t keep pushing ourselves past the brink even to save just one more."


    "That''s what you always did papa! I couldn''t even blame you for it because that one more matters. It''s someone''s life on the line. It would be vile, selfish of me, to hold you back from that. But I married my darling because I''m foolishly selfish, he lets me in all the worst ways and heaven knows I let him get away with so much...though he does try."


    "Yes I admit Freddy''s gotten better with the whole...ehhh him things. Meh it''s fine." grampa waves off.


    "So with my children too, I want to be selfish for them. I want them not to be raised the way I was. They''ll be perfectly good and happy young ladies, as their birthright. But..." mother hesitates, right into grampa''s too strong arms.


    "But? ...I know baby girl, I know." he rocks.


    I am very lost and I swear they either shameless do not care or have forgotten I am still sitting right here. I don''t even have any popcorn or snacks to munch on.


    "What does grampa want? Are we going to go heal something or someone using Lilyanne? If it''s a special request already filtered out from grampa then it should be alright. She might be small but she doesn''t get fevers anymore." I adjust my cushioned seat in boredom.


    Mother''s eyes pop over to me in shock.


    "Papa! Why is Rosalia-what?"


    "Why she was always there baby! The whole time! And that noggin of hers is still darn cute and terrifying even when we cut Freddy''s hair off, yep. Awww just like old times with the fleas. By the way did I mention that the girls may occasionally be able to see into the future? Juuuuust a little bit."


    I facepalm for too many reasons to reasonably count off.


    "They can what?!" mother focuses on the last part, already forgetting about forgetting me, again. Thank you mother.


    Maybe I should just let Georgie put me into a tiny sailor suit. That seems to work 100% in keeping her attention. I already have the boy''s cut.


    "Technically it''s only Lilyanne, " the crazy old man looks up, stroking his chin. "But Rosalia makes more sense of them and right now that''s much more useful!"


    "They can WHAT?!"


    I admit I have thought out many ways to reveal bits and pieces of the truth to parental units. For it would just make life easier for us all, giving me more advantages to act on my plans and preventative measures. While I''m more than fine with grampa currently taking the reigns, and acting as my cover, it won''t do for the long term. There are things I would like to act on for myself without gathering damning evidence to be burnt as a baby witch. Yes many ways I tried imagining I could dilute my cheat and make public excuses to mother and father.


    This was not one of them.


    "Yeeeeeah, so Gable and I figured that Lilyanne might kinda get these little bursts of visions. Think of them as cuts of foresight. It happens maybe like...." he looks over to me, confirming my compliance in building this damn of half truths built on lies.


    I admit it''s very straightforward a method. Simple and awkwardly painful, but hopefully effective, as grampa is already an established crazy man.


    "Once a year, on our birthday. Maybe more when Lily''s a lot older. " I sigh, playing along.


    "Right! About once a year! Since we threw the girls and bundled them up together all the time, Rosa here eats up our Lily''s big bad powers, siphons them, and well here you have it. Side effects! You know, blurry prophecies of death, destruction, and apparently handsome young men. The usual."


    What a way with words this man has. Mother is speechlessly limp. The lights are on and no one is home. Mother is offline.


    "And that''s why Rosa likes to play acting she''s a very mature big girl. Thinks she knows soooo much, though that''s probably just Freddy''s contributions talking. It''s soooo cute. Aren''t you pumpkinpoo?~ " grampa coos.


    I throw a pillow at him.


    Unfortunately, it does not explode in feathers like how mother manages to do it.


    Speaking of mother, I take a deep breathe to bite the bullet. I''ll be lucky if she doesn''t throw me into the fire to burn. She wouldn''t right away right? Grampa''s excuses kinda hold up? It ties in Lilyanne too! She''s the one with future vision powers, not me, and no one''s scared of her!


    Slowly I look up to see if mother has mentally recovered from that shock yet, if not ready to hand me over to be exorcised by fire.


    "Ooooooh that does explain so much. I thought she just took too much after Frederick!" she buys grampa''s story up perfectly, nodding up right at me.


    "That too." grampa agrees solemnly, the most serious he''s ever been, "I''m afraid that part is untreatable. You may not see the red hair right now since we chopped it off, but most likely it will be back."


    "Oh dear! Don''t worry baby! We''ll get you all the hats, we''ll stop it this time." mother cries, diving into the cushion to snuggle me against the horrors of my father''s bloodline and the sun.


    "...Mother...that is the part you''re concerned about. Really? Anything else? Perhaps the part about...the future?"


    The situation is so ridiculous I can only go with the flow. One of the most horrible complications has been revealed and ended up in this way? That I hold the knowledge of the short term future, of about the next 13 or so years, but am practically powerless, ineffective to do anything about it but act in silence.


    And here grampa just goes around shouting it just like that!? Even worse! Mother just takes it without any further concern or questions!!?


    "Remember Maria, she likes to be a ''big girl''" grampa says in a suspicious tone.


    "Oh! Oh right! Oh yes. Ahem. Oh of course my darling Rosa, you are my very brave and mature girl. It can''t be helped. Your grandpapa and I will love you no matter what your hair looks like." she says emotionally, hugging me tighter.


    I can feel the still blankness of my face set automatically due to the overwhelming shock going on inside.


    Why. Is. She. Like. THIS?!!


    You know what, I think I just answered one of my earlier questions regarding Lilyanne. It''s from mother! And thus grampa! All grampa''s fault! Again it''s all grampa''s fault.


    "Oh dear she has his facial expressions too! I see it! Boo hoo!"


    "Shhhh baby girl, I know. I know. We''ll make Freddy take full responsibility and then some!"


    Someone come help get me out of this family of crazies. Help.


    A light knocking raps on the door. A short moment and confirmation later, Georgie half steps in, his expression cooled to a professional still. Though his frazzled occasional knee shake betrays his nevers, he is getting better at acting.


    "Great Lord Commander. My Lady. A giant....balloon has ...parked outside the residence. " he announces.


    "GABBEY?!" "GABE!"


    Both members of my direct biological ancestry, then forget about me again, throwing me to bounce lightly on the couch cushions as they fight each other over who gets to wave first at the window in their race across the sitting room.


    Hey, no fair I want Gable too! No one said Gable was coming today!


    "Do not jump out the window!" a beautiful angel''s cry comes angrily from outside.


    "Gabbey!""Gable!"


    "No no no! Not the both of you!!!" the outside yells again.


    In the end, they somehow both slip over. What a coincidence. Huh?


    Well, nothing a Ventrella can''t handle. Mother is oddly very resilient no? Very much grampa''s alright. So much healthier, I do wonder what really caused her to be so sickly and frail in the last life when reality says she can survive jumping through windows weekly.


    "I said not both of you! How old do you two think you are?!!" Gable curses from below, still sounding like music to one''s ears.


    Even if it gets drowned out and dirtied in that father and daughter''s babbling nonsense. Sounds like they survived just fine.


    "We miss you." "You only pay attention to little brother now!" "We got lonely."


    "It''s been a few hours Ron! ...Where''s Lukas?"


    "See Papa this is what I mean, he only pays attention to-"


    "-Well baby girl you must be understanding, afterall Lulu is quite young and ever the handful."


    "Oh I don''t blame the precious child. I remember what it''s like."


    "What is Lukas doing on the roof!?!" Gable screams.


    From inside the room, Georgie and I awkwardly try looking up out the window and at each other.


    "Georgie....didn''t you take him?" I ask.


    "Yeah but not to the roof? When did...how did he get up there?!" my poor little assistant starts panicking.


    Common sense says I should just...step right back inside and ignore everything. Yes. In this family, and our households, nothing ever goes as expected. Let''s just not worry about it.


    "Gable!" yells out another childishly familiar, but unexpected voice now heard my houses. Lukas somehow worming himself in and around like an annoying rambunctious neighbor who constantly shows up on my property.


    "No! No Jumping! I said-, oh never mind." Gable gives up, as it''s already too late, taking only a facepalm before focusing on his palm to gently slow Lukas''s freefall from the roof into a giggling float into his arms.


    "Oh we didn''t get that" mother complains.


    "It''s not fair but he is the smallest and most likely to die " grampa agrees.


    "That would be unfortunate, he''s too cute." mother nods, clinging on to Gable from below as Lukas finally touches down.


    As insane as all of this is...it feels a little lonely simply watching.


    "Lily too!"


    Oh no.


    "How did she get on the roof!?!" I look over accusingly.


    "Lukas? I don''t know??? I locked them in the nursery and said I would be back!?" yells back Georgie, watching all this in horror.


    Note to self, never let Lilyanne be alone with any such bad influences ever again.


    Mother screams, finally acting like a concerned parent.


    "Stay there my sweet! Don''t move!" she instructs.


    "Lily wanna play jumpy too!" my sister''s very strong voice shouts out. My what strong lungs she has.


    "Lilyanne Mariana Ventrella! You shall not! It''s not playing! Oh, papa go get her. Lilyanne, disobey and you shall see what happens when I get my hands on you! " mother threatens.


    "Lily just wanna play too!" the daughter cries, quite literally starts crying her broken wet tears.


    The same kind I''ve forcibly grown immune to after years of headaches. Lilyanne wants to go to this one ball. That''s all she wants. Now that ball. That dinner party. Someone else''s summer palace. Just all the balls all the time! She just wants the same new dress that one courtesan was seen wearing, so buy it out even if it only fashionable for half a season. Or the necklace that other lady had, so a stupid harem boy goes and steals it for her and causes a scandal. Blah blah blah.


    "I''m taking the stairs. Come on Georgie." I sigh again.


    "Where are we going and should I pack?" he follows, probably already going over the babysitting bag supplies.


    "Most likely. And bring snacks!"


    By the time I reach outside the grounds, where the balloon is indeed parked, grampa has already scaled the vineyard manor like a parkour artist. Like a chimpanzee with it''s young, a still crying Lilyanne clings under his arm, sobbing into his full strong bosom.


    "Hi again Rosa!" Lukas exclaims, first to see me and no longer wondering how to identify me compared to my identical twin sister.


    I swear, we used to be identical. These are all outside factors I have no control over, like my hair.


    "And where did you come from, young lady?"


    Gable looks down from where I approach them from behind. His gorgeous face, those swoon-worthy cheekbones, in full display with his silky hair half pulled up is a classic elven style today. Legolas wishes he could look half as good!


    "The stairs. " I answer politely, trying not to let the inner fangirl rule out over respect and manners.


    "Oh thank god." Gable lets out a great breath, looking to be beside himself in relief. Perhaps grateful it''s only been three and a half people jumping from high surfaces at him.


    As much as I would like to fall into Gable''s perfect arms and chest, I know reality is....well reality!


    "She gets it from Frederick darling." mother bows her head low, apparently in shame as she''s somehow been tied by seatbelt inside the balloon.


    "We fear it''s fatal." grampa yells out


    He runs with Lilyanne over to tuck her into the balloon''s baby seat. while Gable has Lukas marching himself into his seat all by himself, though he doesn''t trust the natural daredevil to do his own seatbelts.


    "Are we going somewhere? Is that okay mother?" I ask, walking up to her legs. Indirectly mentioning the topic from earlier.


    "Well... if Gable says it''s alright." mother replies, reaching to pull me up. "And I suppose, it matters..."


    She''s worried, I can tell despite her light easy tone and almost comical tie down to her seat. More than me, she''s the one that looks like a witch put to the stake.


    "Alright then." I nod along, knowing I''ll see where we end up and what we''re doing soon.


    I know it involves Lilyanne somehow, using the knowledge I''ve provided about her in secret. And I know that despite the insanity Grampa naturally gives off, he would never do anything to threaten her or endanger her.


    "Are we all good? Maria, let Rosalia go so she can get into her seat." Gable looks over the car.


    "Wait! Can I bring my snacks?" I raise my hand.


    "Well, I suppose." he looks over the side at where my dumbstruck assistant still stands.


    "Great! Georgie, get on."


    Georgie points between the babysitting and snack bags and himself.


    "Wait. Seriously? Me?"


    "Yes. Don''t be rude and keep his graciousness sir Gable waiting! In in in!"


    And that''s how we ended up taking my snacks, and snack carrier, Georgie, on his first flight. The teenager internally screamining while frozen in his seat the whole time. Good job


    It''s a very odd arrangement of people. Mother dotingly talking back and forth between a chattering Lilyanne and Lukas. Grampa and Gable in the front going over the directions like some old bickering married couple. Ha! I''m funny. Then there''s the kinda official teenaged babysitter at this point really, and I. Very odd indeed combination indeed, yet it doesn''t feel out of place at all.


    Maybe I''m just getting too used to all the crazy.


    Flight by hot air balloon is generally a pleasant experience and sight, once you get over the fear of crashing in a fiery inferno.


    I''m not entirely lost or directionless, recognizing enough landmarks and features to know we''re heading eastward of the family northern vineyards. But my suspicions grow as we fly over gray mountains and patches of dry barren lakebeds. Further and further remote. An area that will erode even further into uselessness in the short term future. One already called by the name ''badlands''.


    I know exactly what lies beyond the badlands of my family''s territory.


    The leprosy colony.


    _________________________________________________________________________________________________________


    -----------


    ---


    -


    Bonus Side Story! East European Summer Road Trip (of doom). Part 1(?)


    Skippable, but please enjoy.


    -


    ---


    -------------


    "Is he always like this?" the young woman asked.


    For once, in a very long time, her clothes were neat and pristine. Vibrant actually, too colorfully dyed and embroidered to blend in, but hidden under modest veils and a traveler''s cloak. A smaller youth, hardly a teenager, was in a plainer tunic and similar cloak, but without the hood up it couldn''t hide his the flash of sunlight fine hair and a slowly developing handsome countenance. He roughly kicked the wooden wagon.


    "Honestly. Yeah." Yuna threw his other party under....


    No, it was accurate to say that Vincent was already under the wagon, well hidden. On the ground, underneath the great big wheels capable of crushing a man alive by running him over, the older teen was not curled up crying.


    He was simply...practicing dying.


    "All that work," Vincent whimpered wetly, though no one could really see him under the shadows, "everything that could go wrong..."


    "Did not." reminds Yuna. Playing devil''s advocate to not only be a voice of common sense but just to mess with Vincent.


    "It didn''t go wrong till now! Now! Too smooth. Of course it would! Nothing can ever go right. Now we''ll pay thrice fold!"


    "It''s one broken wheel" Yuna deadpanned.


    It was a clear blue sunny day. One of summer''s finest. The air fresh and beautiful. The hills were lush and green, summer flowers blooming in the wake of fresh storms.


    That also meant that the rural outback roads, if there were any roads, was muddy. Sludge and slippery annoying rock really.


    It wasn''t a dire situation. Their strength was at full peak, well rested and well packed from their time as ''guests'' at a certain castle.


    Now it was just about getting back.


    Of all the things they prepared for, double and triple checked, things to account for going wrong, somehow a broken wagon wheel wasn''t on the list. It really should have been now that they think back on it, but understandably


    Vincent was stressed enough. He was already over worrying on the whole ''oops I walled in a noble matriarch alive in her own estate thing.


    "We shouldn''t have done that. We should have just..." Vincent moaned into the cool dirt underneath his hiding spot.


    "We left a little hole? It will be ok." the youngest of the group spoke up.


    Merely a small tender looking child, yet the most comforting. Amar was also the only one small enough to easily slip in and out of the under wheels.


    "No it won''t! We''re trapped now! Trapped!" Vincent cries.


    "His spirit is solid and strong as a bowl of ganoush." Cass bluntly noted.


    The eldest and only female of the group tried shooing little Amar away from what she saw as a bad influence. Not that she particularly disliked Vincent or anything. There were bound to be many types of people. Something she knew well from her travels. But she grimaced at the thought of the young charge picking up any such behaviors.


    That and she didn''t want him dirty in the mud.


    Traveling was always filthy business but even more so in these strange lands. The common people drew wells, not pumps, had few if any sewers or cisterns. They knew not much of running water controlled by the hands of man. There were even people, the locals, that did not purify themselves with simple water.


    She shudders in how a small lost child would care for themselves in such a world. Almost mournfully, she instinctively brushes the edges of the boy''s hair, curling at the ends. She remembers them feeling so much softer, scented in baby''s soap, almond oil and rose water. She remembers it from a long time ago and the boy pretends he doesn''t.


    It''s a good thing they''re not alone, for then the boy might just forget it all.


    "He just needs a baba'' to feed and spoil his ganoush." Yuna tormented, "Shaaaaame, I think Georgie''s more of a -"


    "Stop mentioning him!" Vincent screamed, turning pink under the shadows.


    "Who is this Georgie and why do you hold his name like a gold cheese to a dying rat that cannot eat? You''re telling me this one holds a lover? " Cass points down, unbelieving.


    "Ha! Nah, he wishes he could even think about it without exploding.-"


    Suddenly under the wagons sounds out screaming, groaning and begging wishes to just end him, and other insane nonsense.


    On the side, Cass had already given up on reasoning with the possibly crazy pale young man with a bad crushing case of...whatever it was Vincent had. Instead, she was dusting off and fussing with the little boy.


    "I''m fine." Amar groaned, getting his face wiped, bandages checked and worn clothes inspected for the 13th time today.


    Caspara sighed at the stubborn wriggling child. The summers here were cool and lovely with its meadows of soft green and wetness, yet the boy sometimes burned still so hot inside. It was as frustrating as it was familiar.


    "...We''ll set up camp here for the night. It will take time regardless and there''s no use in sitting around watching a grown fool cry in the mud." she reasoned, voice forcibly gentle.


    A snort and a sorry cry came from the others, above and below the wagon, but she keeled to speak only to the boy directly.


    "Little kahk, can you scout around for a good spot? Flat dry land. Remember? Nearby water and a source of fire wood? Do you have all your knives? Your whistle? Call if there''s trouble or- "


    "...I don''t. But ok." Amar nods, quickly running off.


    Steps quicker than a wild rabbit escaping from its cage.


    He''s gotten so much faster in the time Cass hasn''t seen him. Taller too. It does not reassure her heart at all.


    "You call him kahk? As in the cookie, for breaking a fast?" Yuna kicks the wheel again, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear. It only came a little below his chin but that was enough for the light to reflect and shine.


    If he was paler, his features fuller and cut just a more round about way, he could be mistaken as one of those far Western foreigners dressed like that, with hair like that. Fine and fair, spun like gold thread.


    He could be wrong in his guess, but it was fitting the teen thought. The small bites of sugar sweetness, buttery baked only on special occasions. They called them ''cookies'' around the troops, though it varies as others claimed other words such as ''biscotti''. His mouth salivated only in his memory. He hasn''t had a kahk in years, hasn''t seen or smelled a lot of things that were once home.


    But that''s the thing, once meant no more, and that''s the lot most of them were in. Yuna especially.


    Cass quietly sighed at the empty green hills, nodding.


    "If that''s what you call them... the small ones always complained unless it was served plain," she confirmed.


    "Plain is the best way to go." Yuna sneered


    "Don''t be ridiculous. Agameya flavor is best." Cass bit back, humor rising dark in her voice.


    "Meh, if you gotta add something make it at least malbam or agwa." the blond spoke, words rolling off his tongue as if it were never in disuse.


    "Agameya is superior."


    "Is not! But damn could I go for one. "


    "I may be down here quiet but I''m not actually dead." Vincent complained, interrupting only after long losing the conversation. Lost in translation.


    As overly stressed as he was, a part of Vincent was glad that Yuna had another person he was actually willing to talk to. Someone that made the boy open up, even just a cruel crack. The younger boy was frigid, and hard to reason in this sensitive age. A whole new can worms.


    But on the other hand, couldn''t it have been someone better for his nerves?!


    "A ganoush without a baba" Cass agreed with what the younger teen earlier said.


    "As good and reliable as a basket of frogs." Yuna added on.


    "I''ve known great great grandmothers carrying a village''s worth of babies with straighter spines than you." she yelled down under the wagon.


    "I don''t understand! But that sounds about right." Vincent whimpered to that.


    For a weak moment, he allows himself to miss Tamera and her familiar brand of painfully annoying.


    Her punches hurt but it was only his bones and body, not his very delicate heart and liver when this Cass girl spoke her sharp words. He did not need it after a long and terrifying week of getting pushed and poofed borders of countries away from his safe spaces controlled by the Troops...to playing ''guest'' in the big too big airy castle. aka the far and out of sight residence of a ''sickly'' madame Damia.


    Yeah, Vincent was still mentally and physically recovering from that, ok?! But staying any much longer at that place, despite how friendly Damia''s sons welcomed them after their ''transaction'' really was worse for Vincent''s health. The soundless screams that must be going on under the castle, just being there, was also bad. Lots of bad.


    So they were on the road back to any of the troop''s outposts, though most likely just the long way back to Ventrella lands, because that portal did not offer a return trip. With his magical monstrous ''creations'' that neither needed food nor sleep, oddly disguised as very dark stallions per Lord Ventrella''s request, if they followed the schedule perfectly, and nothing went wrong ever, they could do it in under a month.


    ''If'' was already ruined, it''s been less than a week since setting out and they''ve already broken a wheel. Great. Just great.


    "If you get out from under there, I''ll get it up and out of the mud pit you drove it in." Cass offers blandly.


    "Told you this, ''oh we don''t need to stop for rest, not if we rotate and follow the schedule'' bullshit was a bad idea." Yuna snorted.


    "It is a very stupid schedule. Though you are a spineless whining weakling, you are useful for running the bony steeds. Nor I do not wish to see you truly bury yourself alive. Children are watching. It''s not good for him. " she took a long stick to start poking about.


    " Oh I don''t think you know Amar then." Yuna kicked, still trying to get it at a better angle. Would be easier if Vincent would just climb out.


    "I know plenty."


    "So much so the brat runs like hunted prey, only from you."


    He does not miss how she flinches before sternly holding her glare.


    Yuna enjoys the older woman''s presence, really now. At least more so than Vincent on an average day, while Amar was just still a brat. Precisely because he''s a child, sensitive as they are, that Yuna can''t ignore the way he flinches and twitches away. There is a history, anyone with eyes out of their ass can tell it is a complicated one.


    But don''t they all have complicated stories hidden under the sand? Especially them? Foreigners in a strange place, far from homes they can no longer return to.


    Yuna remembers a little boy, too young and small, when the sergeant leader''s first assigned him to his section. They had chosen Yuna, of all the older children, to look out for him, not because the ex-slave was particularly strong or responsible. But the shades in their skin, the assumed shared background.


    It didn''t matter.


    They were like islands of a home better off forgotten.


    Yuna remembers how the child was so mutely dumb, unresponsive, that others feared he was retarded. But Yuna knows fear so intense you lose yourself. Lose your mind. Knows well what it tastes like personally in not so distant memories.


    He can feel it again here, now. In between moments with this stranger, Amar let tag along specifically.


    Personally he doesn''t mind Cass, could be a lot more annoying. And she was actually useful. But he doesn''t like how quiet that boy got again.


    "Are you two fighting? Can you do it away from the wagon? I''d like to rest in peace." Vincent whimpers, feeling the imaginary bad air already.


    He typically left this kind of stuff to Tamera, but overreliance on his roommate and admittedly friend was a bad thing. Having no idea what to do now. He wishes to bury himself and let the problems all fix themselves, but of course, that''s impossible. Death was much easier than living, a lot less complicated.


    "No." Cass smirks, crossing her arms in a challenge. "Just a filthy brat being stubborn. Typical."


    "Whatever. Whoever has a head-wound keeps feeling it" Yuna raises back, knowing the exact translation is lost on Vincent, despite him understanding each word individually.


    ''A guilty person will give himself away.''


    Cass understood like he knew she would. Like Amar still does though he''s so young, so far from the home that birthed him. They drank the same teas when others here drank the wine of their grapes and ales of grain. They preferred the same type of bread, missed the same bites of sour, sweet, and spices.


    " He who doesn''t know, says "lentils." she answers back, without any weight on her shoulders. Her height was taller than Yuna''s current own, looking down on him, though he''s growing damn it.


    ''Those who don''t know the true story will just say anything as an explanation.''


    "I am so confused," Vincent complains from below.


    In the end, both of the ''foreigners'' relent, calling back to their only slightly awkward truce. They still had a long way to get back to the troops, and though Vincent''s set schedule promised under a month, they both knew reality would take far longer.


    "I know you already like it, but lay down and keep low." Cass instructs to the somewhat trapped teenager below their vehicle.


    Vincent gladly complies, sinking himself comfortably into the mud. It''s cold but almost like those relaxing mud baths that Rosalia introduced him to. He''ll gladly take his pay from her in mud baths and spa treatments from now on. Gold merely children''s pocket change compared to what her Lord father paid.


    What a terrifying family.


    He''s so comfortable he hardly notices when the wagon steadily lifts off of him, though it does expose him back to sunlight. The stuck wagon seemingly floating up in the air until it carefully repositions itself off the side of the muddy road. Yuna yelling out instructions such as "more to the left" as the Cass woman concentrates.


    "It''s not so bad." she inspects, looking up at the damage before willing it back down.


    "Yeah. I can whittle something that will work till the next town, but camp first sounds like the best idea" Yuna remarks, stomach already growling.


    "I saw boar and deer tracks around, I could hunt something. I tire of the rations." Cass sighs, thinking about the hardtacks, lentils, and salted jerky the troops supplied.


    Even better, the fish oil like edible nutrient jellies that Vincent seemed so fond of. Something he''s been over-relying on, "like all he ever eats regularly when no one looks after his ass" Yuna informed.


    Sure they worked, somewhat, at staving off the worse hunger and providing energy. But they satisfied nothing else, not to mention the hunger pangs still remained. Though they managed to get a few more travel provisions from their grateful hosts at that awful castle before they set off.


    The food wasn''t quite to her tastes, nor Yuna''s, but their complaints were only among themselves.


    She didn''t want to dip too much into her own personal stowed away supplies, though she would, should the child ask for it. Like how he requested her help to sell the broken jewels. How she pulled out, even more, even grander ones, to his uninterested eyes.


    Cass can think long and hard about how much he''s suffered in this land, all alone, but that changes nothing and only made her feel worse. The best she can do now it provide what she could where she could.


    She did not take offense to the young blond''s accusations. Nor Amar''s flightiness. It could only take time, heavens willing, for them to become comfortable again.


    Until then, the one called Yuna works to clean and repair the parts of the broken wagon, while she helps left and carry what is available in her space. The Vincent one, lays in his spot, a strange one that does not sleep nearly enough.


    A rustling sound comes at them, like tiny bells, indicating safety.


    "I found two? Do you want to camp in the shelter of a grove? Or near a water pond?" Amar asks, hopping down.


    "The wooden grove!" Yuna exclaims, immediately annoyed by the thoughts of insects.


    "That will work. Thank you little kank," she gently agrees, and when she pulls out the hidden sugared and stuffed cookies, kept fresh all this time in her space, the little boy smiles back and accepts.


    When Yuna gasps and balks, she''s forced to hand him some too, and Amar giggles.


    "Needs tea. Are you getting up now?" Yuna asks, having already stuffed two of the sweets down his mouth. Of course, he went for the date paste flavored ones.


    Cass wonders if it was worth exerting effort to move Vincent by force. It was quite a lot more work lifting a person than immovable things. She''d rather save her strength for building camp, repairing clothes, watching closely if Amar''s tastes have changed.


    The boy seemed to enjoy more things now, not simply eating just plain sugared ones anymore, but the pistachios, the rose water, the malbam, the agwa, and all the flavors he''s seemed to have missed when once avoided. He had grown and none of them were there to see it.


    "Up. Up. I''m moving." Vincent groans, lazily crawling up to call for his undead steeds to rearrange themselves to help move and make camp at least.


    This schedule wasn''t going to work out at all but he would try. Weird party mates of, one very crass though secretive woman, one very grumpy teenager with a mean streak, and an honestly unpredictable six-year-old.


    This was going to be a hell of a return trip.


    "Who has the map again?"


    .


    DAYS TILL DESTINATION: 3/49.


    ---


    --------


    -----------------

 130 Spots

    "Rosalia? Are you feeling ill again? Oh papa get her the sick bag." I can hear mother fuss.


    For some odd reason, my grandfather has decided to take us on another one of his crazy hot balloon field trips. No biggie. Let''s not panic...


    ...Why are we heading to the leper colony?!!?!?!


    Alright, let''s still not panic. It''s just a little lower on oxygen up here, and thus harder to breathe. Panicking is very bad.


    Breathe Rosalia girl, breathe.


    I have the power of reason and an actual brain on my side. Let''s just breathe and think things through. No I do not need a barf bag!


    Afterall Gable is here. Nothing too horrible can happen if Gable is here. Even if we are headed into a disease outpost of quarantined and ostracized people suffering from a seemingly incurable and honestly very frightening looking disease.


    Made all the worse by being in this world!


    Imagine if one day you wake up, feeling not so well.


    Maybe you have a rash, some swollen limbs, feel a bit faint, or are covered in lesions and infected wounds? By chance, you go see whatever constitutes as an actual medical professional in this world. By chance they are not an amazingly magical healer, by chance, they diagnose you with the classic case of leprosy, possibly by screaming and backing away.


    Well faster than you can ask just what it is you have, you''ve won a one-way all-inclusive ticket to the leprosarium! Effective immediately! Return trip not included.


    It is known as the place the infected go to die. To be sent there is practically a death sentence, a grim isolation to protect the healthy.


    If caught, if rounded up, anyone with even the mildest confirmed symptoms, by general law, gets sent to the leper colony. Which is why so many people hide it. The disease itself seemingly incurable, highly infectious, and an ultimate mark of sin and sickness.


    Or so is the belief.


    Coming from another world, I have a bit more knowledge on various fields. Including but not limited to, not getting scared shitless by just anything.


    Really everyone? Infectious diseases can be terrifying yes, deadly in many instances. But they don''t have anything to do with morality or some angry gods giving out plague worthy deaths like talk show hosts give out free cars. You get leprosy! You get the bubonic plague! Everyone in the audience gets a voucher cruel and painful death!


    Now I do have to take a mental step back. Perhaps the disease in this magical world is not the same one I''m thinking of?


    Once again I am a modern tourist, what I know may not be what''s going on here.


    One of the cures for noblemen was literally to drink gold? Since gold was a ''pure'' substance''. Uh huh, how did that work out everyone? It didn''t? No shit. What about bathing in the donated blood of virgins or infants?


    Yeah, let''s not trust the maniac medieval doctors too much.


    From what I do remember of the symptoms and the public revulsion to the disease, it sounds to match up.


    Until the balloon touches down, and I see first hand just what horrors my grandfather and Gable have planned, I shall continue staying shocked still with Georgie here. Praise be Gable, just believe in Gable. I am a safe, reasonable and intelligent girl. I can deal with this in a sane manner.


    Perhaps it is the lack of oxygen but at this exact moment, a random scene, and very random conversation makes its way to my recollection. The kind that can only be possible with the internet, alcohol, and dumbasses.


    "Just don''t lick an armadillo." another voice rings out in my head.


    Thank you brain, for that wonderful contribution.


    As much of a good student I''ll give Jung-Joon credit for, he was, is, a very big dumbass sometimes.


    "Seriously, just don''t lick an armadillo? Generally, it''s impossible to catch it as fast as a zombie outbreak. Did you know 95% of the population is actually immune to Hansen''s disease?"


    He would state casually. Interrupting the not so scary, ha I''ve built an immunity to your horror shit, show we were binge-watching while stealing my snacks. It was very rude how he always reached around my shoulders and stayed there for easy but awkward access to the snack bowl. But persistent to the point, I just gave up.


    "...Why armadillos? Who licked a damn armadillo and figured that out?" anyone would ask, myself included.


    Not like, why the hell would he know this? It was the age of the internet. Access to the widest amount of information. Oh, I miss the internet so much.


    "They just have the perfect low body temperatures to naturally carry the bacteria. Other than humans. Oh my god, Mycobacterium is just..."


    He would wave, unable to put into words just how ....exciting bacteria was. Sometimes even run his hands through his lazy hair in a way that could be called very cute, if whatever he was saying wasn''t so distracting.


    "We can''t grow them in cell cultures? Labs? It only survives in living cells, we use mice, well just the footpads to grow them, and-"


    "Can we go back to watching bad historical fantasy zombies in peace?... And you never answered me, who licked a damn armadillo in the first place?!"


    "It spreads through the droplets in the nasal cavity and-"


    "Who licked a damn armadillo to figure this shit out?!"


    "I...honestly don''t know? Wikipedia it?"


    I may have tossed off that information, begged even, to end it. But now I mentally dig to recall everything I can. Not just that random conversation, nor how the fucker stole all my good popcorn, but literally any relevant information I can regarding the disease. Documentaries. Stereotypes and myth-busting. General health common sense.


    Let''s list it out.


    Hansens''s disease as it was named in my world, and not like some ancient scary leprosy, was a very old skin disease caused by bacteria.


    "Mycobacterium. The same thing that runs tuberculosis. It''s mycobacteruim leprae-"


    Alright, shutty up annoying other voice in my head. Go grow bacteria in space or some shit.


    That''s not actually relevant right now. I need stone-cold medieval useable facts.


    -It was very treatable with multiple antibiotics.


    -It does not actually cause your limbs to fall off, but causes numbness. Making a person much more suspectable to infection and amputation of digits and limbs.


    -It attacks the nerves but most noticeably swelling in the hands, feet, and face. Late stages are often marked with very visible disability.


    -It''s actually not very contagious and takes a very long time for the bacteria to grow or spread. This may make people carriers if they''re in that lucky 95%, but that number might not be relevant here. Or people can have the dormant disease but not know it for years due to the slow growth. Symptoms may never show at all before they die of something else.


    -It''s spread usually from the mouth or nose of an infected person after a long time of close exposure, such as living in close quarters and poorer sanitation...or contact with animals like an armadillo.


    Do armadillos even exist here?


    Right. Facts.


    Not a curse. Not divine wrath and retribution for your mortal wrongdoings. Not even hereditary as some more reasonable scholars suspect.


    A lot of the information known in this world is incorrect from many standpoints. Medically. Scientifically. Common sense. Even the kind in the original Rosalia''s education.


    It''s a whole different world, far far back in time!


    If I published a medical pamphlet right now with my shoddy memory, it would probably cause the world to go into shock and uproar. If it was taken seriously that is.


    Understandably most people, the illiterate public especially, wouldn''t have the resources or education to understand nor process that. If someone started spotting lesions all over their body, losing parts, and going blind, well then off to die you go!


    We even have some strange discriminatory customs. Such as a special type of robe. Or it being mandatory for the diseased to wear a bell or clapper wherever they go, to warn people that a ''diseased'' was coming.


    Of course, that''s if they haven''t already been caught and sent to the leprosarium.


    They exist in every country, every land, as far as I know from the original''s knowledge. To be fair, some did act as medical facilities to try and treat the ''patients''. But it''s hard to say, they''re so varied and isolated far away from the rest of society.


    It''s mostly known that there were terrible disease-ridden places where people can only await death. At most, they can pray for a little less pain. It''s better to live out the rest of your days wasting away than beaten by an angry mob or burned and buried alive by your own fearful village. Perhaps the worse part of the disease is how people fear it.


    The one in the mountainous edge by the ''badlands'' of my family''s territory is supposedly one of those medical facilities. Of course, Rosalia knows about it. There are costs and upkeeps to keep it running after all.


    But I''ve never seen it personally. Never stepped foot near it! I''m a pampered little noble lady that died the good old fashioned schemed against with murder way.


    "I don''t think Rosa is ok!" points Lukas without any consideration.


    I am very ok for any toddler on the way to the leprosy colony. Just feeling faint.


    "Oh dear! Rosa just use the sick bag." mother fusses.


    To be fair the barf bag is very useful.


    More for Georgie than me though. He''s the one that ends up hurling on the hot air balloon. Not me.


    Ha! I know better than to eat before rides.


    I didn''t learn that from hard-earned experience on the balloon or anything. The only witnesses to those shameful times are a crazy old man, some unreliable brats, and blessedly silent Gable. My honor is safe!


    Let''s just hurry up and get this over with.


    The ride ends in the usual way, with grampa touching down gently. Though the pressure change does give me an uncomfortable sensation in my ears sometimes.


    Apprehension aside, it doesn''t look like a scary place?


    At least so far?


    Grampa parked the balloon outside on a field of nothing. As is the standard safety procedure. So far we passed over even more nothing. The badlands being filled with eroded and drying up lake and river beds. As well as empty mountains. It''s a very desolate place with no people, perfect for the quarantine colony away from society.


    But where is it?


    "Where exactly are we?" I ask, allowing mother to scoop me up in an overly concerned manner after undoing my seatbelts.


    She acts as if I''m already ill. To be fair, I do not have a great history after long rides on anything.


    My very normal and much older assistant, however, is clutching onto the solid ground in great relief after getting out the balloon. He''s fine on carriages? Geez, he acts like some country bumpkin that''s never been on a car let along a flying vehicle propelling the human body at an unstable height generally unknown to man.


    "Well....it''s somewhere...that some very unfortunate people live. They''ve taken ill." mother tries to answer my question in the most age appropriate manner.


    "Pssst, Maria. Big girl! She already knows that part!" grampa fails at whispering over from where he started deflating the balloon.


    "Why do I feel as if you didn''t tell her the way I told you?" Gable taps at grampa''s side.


    "Trust me, Gabe. This is the most effective way."


    "The last time I trusted you was nearly 30 years ago."


    "It''s been 30 years?"


    Worriedly mother fusses in a basket from the balloon while Gable and grampa do another one of their comedy skits. She has her ''aha, found it'' moment when she pulls out something that resembles a perfume bottle. While it is very pretty, I don''t see the point. Nor when she tips the open mouth to a handkerchief to rub the stinky stuff all over us helpless kids. Lukas and Lilyanne already gagging from where they get assaulted.


    Bleh, I don''t think we smell very good?


    "Alright, nice and safe! Oh and Georgie too! Can''t forget you, oh. Oh dear. You''re so fragile, oh dear this might not be enough." she spritz and rubs more perfume all over him, from his hands to behind his ears.


    Is this sanitizer? Bug spray? Melted magic gold? Am I any cleaner or safer with this stuff?


    A horn blows in the not so far distance, while a dust cloud approaches closer and closer to us. Before long a carpentum carriage arrives. It''s much larger and noisier, with metal shodden wheels, but rounder, more streamlined and sturdier than the average. With not one but two drivers, recognizable with the troop''s emblem and higher rank issued pieces of leather and carapace armor.


    Without leaving the vehicle they stand to respectfully salute and greet their Lord Commander, sliding open the large carriage doors. The interiors I see are not cushioned or decorated, but very comfortably spacious.


    Well, that license plate matches up. Guess our ride is here.


    Mother takes the first step in, not only by scooping up three live kids at once but somehow dragging along Georgie. I don''t know how and I won''t think about it. I just take my sliding seat and stay good.


    Not mentally panicking at all.


    "Do we need face masks?" I ask out loud, though more to myself than anyone.


    "Why! Are we gonna do a super-secret mission? That''s not what Cap told me!" Lukas responds, being right next to me in this squishy kiddy pile.


    He, like my mother, does not understand the concept of personal space.


    Two arms length! Keep away! Social distancing!


    From the front, Gable calls back for us to behave, and that''s that. The rest of the ride is rather unassuming. I can''t say it''s relaxing, with the outside window sight of nothing, nothing and more nothing, but fine enough. I even have time to rummage my baggie for some cloth to tie into face masks!


    One for me. One for Georgie. Everyone else without common sense or magic protecting them can die I guess.


    "Rosalia, take that strange thing off your face. You need to breathe. You shouldn''t play like that." mother tries warning.


    "People can breathe fine even if it''s uncomfortable! Co2 retention and face masks is misinformation. Prevent infection! Slow the spread! Protect yourself and others! Be considerate!"


    "Oh dear....why is she like this?"


    Excuse me mother, that is my line.


    As I forcibly tie one to Georgie, my confused assistant looks down to me. Confirming that his only link to survival, and knowing anything, is with me.


    "Are we...going making soap again?" he asks, fiddling with the protective face mask. "Should I cover up?"


    I gasp at the revelation.


    "Georgie, you''re a genius. Soap! " I start rummaging through my bag, mentally calculating how much stock is in there.


    "...Okay? About what?" he still hesitatingly asks.


    "Grampa! What are the sanitation standards inside the leprosarium?! " I yell out. slightly muffled.


    "The WHAT?! "


    Before anyone can answer Georgie, or before mother can get her hands on me, we approach to pass by a large constructed gate. However, it looks more like one of the troop''s military outposts than anything, but with more rock, stone, and plastery concrete built to suit the terrain. Nothing but functionality and stationed soldiers.


    The roadway is cleared, and the carriage does not stop. It goes further and further into the outpost, past courtyards, buildings, more walls, and to a desolate warehouse looking district. Like a direct transport freeway until we reach the edge of a cliffside wall.


    Yet we still don''t stop?


    At this point, I know things aren''t always what they appear. But Georgie is new to all these sights and wacky experiences. I comfort him by mutually clutching and silently screaming as we ram cart first into the mountainous wall.


    Darkness. But we keep trotting along, the carriage wheels noisily bumping down the hidden tunnel. How the drivers can see anything in their compartment must be hidden a secret, some night vision functions, or something. Because the air is stale, cold, and pitch black.


    Feels haunted, no lie.


    A great yelping sound immediately comes out too close to my ear. Much like how one accidentally steps on a dog''s tail and it cries out in pitiful shock and pain. A familiar kiddy sized mochi mass huddles over me and Georgie, squishing us further.


    "Lukas?" Georgie fumbles, steadying the boy blindly.


    But light comes slowly in the way the edge of a tunnel always ends. I can make out an extra pale face in a sailor suit, shaking in unfamiliar territory. It''s a very odd sight, for normally Lukas runs headfirst into everything without care. But his palmy hands brush and clutch at everything, messing up my face mask. All until I can''t take it anymore and maneuver take them into my own.


    The sudden darkness is scary down here. It would be to anyone.


    "Lukas. Lukas can you hear me? You say I''m loud right, can you hear me? You can hear us all around right? It''s not so scary. " I try imitating my speech in a comforting way I''ve heard before.


    Another brat''s warnings immediately playing in my memory. Matching up with the unsaid hints, all adding up. Ah, where''s Amar when you actually need him? He would be better at comforting the other boy.


    Oddly, I don''t know what else to say. Shocked still the same way Lukas shivers silently, an anxious look of restrained terror on his face. It doesn''t suit him.


    It looks too much like his other-self. The not so grown boy that was there at my death.


    He''s scarred. He was scared?


    My sister oooos and aaahhhhs in my mother''s arms while she hums lightly. Grampa whispers something a little too loudly to Gable, who hums back in response. The wheels clicking on the rocky road still sound out too loud, especially when Lukas of all people is so silent.


    He finally clutches back, fingers gone cold but the light returning to his eyes the same way light stars shining in all around. Steadily returning back to the little monster that I''ve gotten used to.


    "...Uh huh. Didn''t bring my jars." he doesn''t nod, but burrows his head to Georgie''s chest.


    "Stupid," I say, but I don''t really complain when the cold grip in my hands borders on painful.


    "Nuh uh." the brat squeezes.


    Maybe he''s already had enough with reacting today, but Georgie simply signs and readjusts us more comfortably in his hold. Waiting to see what it all unfolds to.


    It gets brighter eventually. It always does.


    If I peek up from where Lukas attempts to hide, catch just a hint of Gable looking back on us. The world opens up to blue skies and sunlight once again, and I didn''t notice.


    "Huh! Lily too. Lily huggles too."


    My sister makes to escape mother''s arms the moment the carriage stops. A tiny force jumping to squeeze her weight onto Georgie''s poor lap. She wiggles a space in between us, grasping apart Lukas'' slowly warming up hands and mine to cuddle for herself. Giggling in happiness as she rolls back and forth between us.


    Did she just?


    Oh my god, Lilyanne no. Bad Lily! No aiming for a harem this early on!? Or ever! Is it the sailor suit?!


    No one else understands. They only sigh or coo, or in my mother''s case, ''kyaa~'' over a cute little girl. But the knowledge of the future is as much a curse as it is my blessed cheat. Lilyanne no!


    Lukas, slowly returning back to his normal state like a plant exposed to sunlight, is far from understanding just how close he is to being a cannon fodder capture target. Instead, he scrunches his cheeks and complains out to the adults.


    "Gaaable! Cap! The stinky baby trying to scent mark me again!" he tattles.


    You know, I don''t think that''s why it is but sure.


    "Assert dominance Lukas! Overwhelm by scent or grapple the intruder for your territory and-"


    "No! Ron! Do not? Lukas put her down right now."


    "Papa...we''re not..." they all react.


    Luckily, we all manage to get off the carriage in one piece, and no one goes flying out the window. Though Lukas did attempt to throw my twin in his efforts to ''assert dominance''. Never let grampa raise a child everyone. God knows how they''ll turn out.


    Outside the other side of the tunnel opens up a beautiful valley. This is some land before time shit. Where were the empty barren lakebed and unforgiving terrain? What the hell, where does that waterfall go or come from?


    On closer inspection, it''s technically isolated yes. With harsh hills and mountains on all sides, seemingly no exits. But the valley is so huge and open that it doesn''t seem to be much of a problem at all.


    Against the closest cliffside, buildings and homes are built right into the mountain. Descending down like a scenic staircase. Paved and built roads, an obvious design plan in place, little oddly modern details that came right out of the troops. On the overlooking outskirts, plowed fields and food production could be seen.


    Rather than a dismal leprosy colony, it looks like any other scenic stone and brick self-sufficient town. Hell, it''s much better than most of the farming villages I''ve toured!


    There are even large multi-story buildings that could be apartments, hospitals, mess halls, community centers, and in-between stations for the troops guarding and working outside.


    Especially ones resembling larger but plain industrial building in the troops. Tall, flat, and strong, as if made out of concrete and actually has piping running water through each upper floor.


    Okay, I feel like I really need a good talking to with grampa and how much he''s holding out.


    "Oooooooh." Lilyanne babbles, still being held back by my hand holding hers.


    She seems more interested in running wild in the opposite direction of civilization. Which, as nice as it looks, is still a quarried town of isolated people stricken with diseases. So that''s good.


    I know my sister''s strengths best.


    Even in her prime, as a young woman who had full control and grasps over her amazing powers, she had her limits. She could only heal so many people in a single day. Even then it was a case by case basis, wounds, and illness each taking a different amount of effort. Push it, and it was a risk to her own health and life.


    Besides, it was never going to be enough. She is only one person, with only two hands. Against the floods off all the people ever, begging for her magic touch, how would she ever be able to survive against that neverending wave?


    There are many reasons why my family isolated us from the world. Why we held our stance, even against protests. Why they were so against free, let alone public, healings. Something she wouldn''t be able to showcase until after my parents passed.


    It would take Lilyanne some tiring weeks to cure a population of a village this size. But that was then. I can''t say considering her current too young age, and the unknown conditions of the residents.


    Besides, I don''t think that''s what they brought us here for. Grampa would never. He believes in being a hero for the sake of it, in lending a helping hand, in saving one more life, one more chance. But not like that.


    The Ventrellas don''t do handouts. We cannot save those who cannot help themselves. No one can. Nor are we responsible for that. Never were.


    "That''s right Lily-poo. We''re heading that way!" the crazy old man, younger than he should be, holds out his hand for the little princess to take. And she does, dragging me along.


    I have a lot of things I''m still not brave enough to ask about. Because I don''t know if I can ever get an answer.


    Where did you go?


    Why did you leave us alone for so long?


    Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Not enough? Or really...was it just me, something I can''t help. I don''t know. I won''t ask stupid questions, I won''t selfishly go ''me too''. It''s not my place, never was.


    The road we take is still paved, even as it leads to orchards and trimmed forests. Gnarled dark trees that don''t look familiar, or even native to the local lands, grow in their plots. The fleshy star-shaped flowers bloom so greenly. So close to the trucks rather than the branches that they look like a type of moss of mushroom growing along the main body.


    We walk deeper and deeper into the green, out of sight of the village and the troop''s outpost there. Though there are plants still around us, something feels off. Wrong.


    It feels like a bad crop.


    A wooden clapper sounds out, deeper in, until the orchard runs out to barren land and an overreaching tall tree, shading the whole section.


    "Give your worship good morrow'', gentlemen. My Lords. My lady. I thank yee for answering the call."


    A plain cloaked figure greets from the far side of the tree. The voice was of a still young woman, but her figure that of a crooked elderly. It was impossible to see much under the dark corner of shade, but peeks of bandages covered her vaguely shaped hands. Most likely missing fingers. While modest veils further concealed the bottom of her face. She makes a praying gesture with those bandaged hands and bows from the distance away.


    "Multa Melitta. It''s good to see you again." grampa nods and regards her.


    The title of ''multa'' can be regarded with the same meaning as a mother. Indicating this person before us is a community leader or overseeing figure of some kind. Before grampa can take a step closer, Gable resolutely stops him. Pulling out a palm that grows a small light with an incantation, grampa smiles wryly, snapping in a lighting spark of his own.


    Together it quickly branches an invisible barrier over our small party, ending at the edge of the shaded woman''s steps.


    Safety precautions.


    "Such wondrous little ones. Gifts of the highest order. Are they all yours?" she asks kindly, not taking offense. There is an undercurrent to her voice that is not dissimilar to my own mother or any of the women who aww over how cute we are.


    "Unfortunately yes." Gable sighs. "My charge, and well..."


    "Ah yes, a "charge". Pardon your graces, the uncanny resemblance almost had me making my congratulations. The world is a strange place. If anyone could make the impossible possible, well..."


    "Multa Melitta." my mother ends up walking to the titled woman first, bowing humbly but a few steps away.


    "Little Maria, my how you''ve grown! How wonderful. If feels not all that long ago when you were small and accidentally ate the fruit here. Oh it was only a large bite but you were fevered and moaned so wretchedly. They still speak of you when warning the children not to forage here."


    "...Oho... yes...I certainly recall." mother smacks at grampa before he could start laughing.


    Ahem, mother. I think this is a story I would like to hear more of. Who eats random things and poisons themselves hmmm?


    "To think you''re already old enough to partake in the fruit. " the woman sounds to be sighing, stroking a withered branch of the tree.


    There is no fruit. No blossoms. Though it is summer. It''s not hard to understand what she means by that sigh.


    "This is only a temporary solution," Gable says, hiding Lukas behind his leg. A solid hand to keep the boy from wandering or interrupting.


    "Isn''t it all? Even this one here. It is only a temporary solution in keeping people alive, even just a little longer. Waiting to treatment to work. If that little bit of extra time could buy back someone''s life. Even a temporary solution is priceless. " the woman sighs partly circling the tree.


    "The Hydnocarpus wightianus were incompatible with the land." Gable looks back to the grove of foreign trees.


    "No. Already every year it produces less and less. A treasure like this was already too good to exist in this world. Those green stars did no wrong, they were uprooted from their homes and planted here to be used as medicine. It''s our own fault for not figuring out something sooner. We humans only know how to take. "


    I think I know what''s kinda going on.


    Hydnocarpus wightianus? I don''t know much about that but they look more like tropical plants than something that should be growing around here. Placed this close to this old tree, the plants are competing for nutrients in a very limited environment already running dry.


    Most importantly, the fruit of this tree is extremely valuable, life saving even.


    Perhaps that''s why it''s hidden all the way out here. Unknown to even me. The multa isn''t wrong, humans only know how to take.


    "The last of them?" Grampa asks.


    "Dried or already sent away by your men, for preservation. The chance of another one being grown ...is nigh impossible, but a chance is better giving up entirely." the old woman replies, head low.


    Gable lifts up Lukas to throw right into Grampa''s arms. Then steps up to tap on the ground with his foot, and it feels as if the ground was a pond rippled by a rock. It sounds out, detecting everything and everyone in the vicinity. Satisfied with the level of privacy, he spells one last layer of a large barrier unseen to the naked eye.


    "What happens here, will stay between us. Speak and you may forfeit your life before the consuming finally gets to you." Gable warns.


    Oh hot damn, I''m already swooning. Yeah sure ground, take my fall. This level of Gable intensity is just too much for my delicate maiden senses.


    Wait, Georgie? Why are you on the ground with me?!


    Oh well, I guess we''re both swooning that bad. That''s fair. How can anyone resist? That or the earth literally shook. It might as well have with how magnificent Gable looked and sounded just now. Look even grampa is almost swooning for a man!


    "Rosalia, will you come here please?" Gable calls out to me, specifically me. Oho ho ho!


    Rolling myself off the ground I run off to his perfect outreached hand, beautiful background of dead and dying trees and all.


    "Remember how we''ve worked on plants before?" he kneels down to tell me.


    "Yes. I know how to control Lilyanne on that much." I recall to last year, all the tests and experiments that may have included exploding fruit.


    "This one will be a little more intense, think of it more like the pillars underneath the main garrison. It will zap a lot out."


    "That''s why we haven''t been charging anything lately right? To save up for this big one."


    "...Smart girl. Don''t push yourself. It won''t be all fixed today. "


    "Alright, I''ll stop Lilyanne when it starts feeling risky or she gets tired."


    "..."


    "But can I ask one thing for now? What''s kind of fruit is it?" I whisper this part.


    Gable has this worried look on his face but a girl can''t help it. I''m curious. What''s the great big deal that we''re trying to save a tree for?


    He pats my head, sighing but relenting none the less. His voice smooth and low.


    "What type doesn''t really matter. It doesn''t resemble much anything we know, but it has restorative properties. One fully matured fruit... has the potential to restore a person''s life by 5 years. You know this isn''t to be known anywhere else, right Rosalia?"


    My mouth slightly hangs but I nod readily none the less.


    Such a thing! People would go crazy to get their hands on the supply. It would cause an upheaval, a war even. Imagine being on the verge of death and just having a fruit that gave you another 5 years of life. What if you baked a few of them into a pie?


    If I ate one right now I may even be unborn! No wait, mother took a bite when she was a kid and that caused her to poison? Maybe I''ll just drop dead if I try it.


    No wonder it''s hidden do deeply. No one would go looking for such treasures in a leper colony. They would never imagine it.


    Gable pats my head and closes my jaw, silently patting me to retrieve my sister and get to work. While I do so, he pulls up the barrier once again, either making sure it''s still there or reinforcing it even further.


    "Come on Lily, follow big sister. It''s zap zap time! You can have a snack later." I clap and pull her up. My sister easily toddling along, looking back only to make sure our mother was still there in sight.


    I can see as mother gulps, lightly sweating in her gown. Grampa reassuring her quietly with a wriggling Lukas tucked into his arms. The boy holds out a thumbs up when our eyes meet. How reassuring, whatever that means.


    "Have we stooped to the lows of using such small children now your highness." the woman''s voice carries in the wind, despite her stepping back even further away as my sister and I approach the tree.


    "Healer Melitta, how about we know our places? I am but a humble hermit, with a personal history that means nothing. Best not to forget that." Gable says calmly, denoting her title to a mere health worker.


    Well now. Before I overheat, let''s get to work.


    Snap snap and zap Lilyanne! Start strong and use discharge! Go crazy! Big sister is right here to cheer you on. Rawr rawr and spark, now use thunderbolt! Yaaaaay!


    Cheering on the heroine is also very hard work. But Lilyanne does a lot better when I hold her hand and encourage her like this. So attention needy.


    She''s saved up a lot of energy the last couple of months, so even when the hungry tree and earth below initially feels like swallowing us up, it only comes as a temporary surprise. Plenty more where that came from.


    Pushing down, I help direct the little power source, distributing it more evenly across the dry-packed land that starved the trees. That just feels a lot more reasonable than shock overfeeding an already starving magic tree.


    It''s the first time Lilyanne is working with so in nature. I wonder if this would work well on general crops and farms too.


    I feel like it should? She''s forced flowers in gardens to bloom before? Or well, at least the original did.


    Actively focusing myself, especially while directly holding on to Lilyanne, really does have a more immediate effect and direction. It''s a little like playing co-op mode on a certain wacky game. She drives full throttle while I aim and shoot.


    So I don''t really notice the world around us as much, not when I''m focusing and feeling around where to best aim the Lilyanne magic water hose.


    The newest discovery is how it''s almost as if I can see what''s receiving it underground. The soil, slowly drinking it in like rainwater deeper and around. Dry roots, flushing back to life in their complicated networks. Empty spots deep deep down below, like very old broken skeletons all eaten up by said roots.


    Wait what?


    "Um, I think we need a break soon." I raise, more questions suddenly under my tongue.


    Hey uh not to be pretentious but I think I know another way to fix the hungry tree problem. Where do you people bury your dead? I''m just going to quietly ask later...yeah.


    "Zap zap!" Lilyanne huffs, pushing in a last few heavy bursts. As if I had just made her sprint some laps and wove the finishing flag in a home run distance.


    Good girl. Working so hard. Zap zap and finish strong Lilyanne!


    At my cheering, the floodgates really rush. She must have had a lot of pent up magic saved up still. It''s to the point that I have trouble regulating it far and deep enough. I finally give up as I get her to stop, letting a good amount rush straight into the seemingly dormant tree, awakening in a colorful flush.


    Green and pink blossoms start growing, hyperspeed. It''s as alien as it is beautiful.


    "This is beyond a miracle." the strange old woman gasps, looking up in awe.


    Lilyanne screams the moment the wind blows just right, misplacing the woman''s hood and veil. My sister screams and cries as if she''s seen a monster. A horribly frightening thing that she must immediately clutch and hide behind me.


    And I don''t blame her, the shock freezing me in place after I jumped back. Even as the unidentifiable woman quickly rights her veil, covering up. But it''s too late to unsee.


    Sunken gaping nose, misshapen bloodshot eyes, unnaturally uniform boils wrapping all around her skin as if it were replaced with bubble wrap. It would be more accurate to compare her to a half dead lizard than a human. Truly it was the kind of face that could make children cry.


    "WAAAAAHH!!!!" Lilyanne wetly wails, shaking and running back to mother and the rest when I don''t move. "WAAAAAAAHHHH SCARY MONSTER!! WAAAAH HELP!!! Mama! Mama! Grampapa! WAAAAAAAAHHH!"


    Pinpricks uncomfortably itch up my skin. Fear. Shock. Shame. Guilt. All sorts of horrible feelings well up in me, much like Lilyanne''s flood. My body not listening to what my reason wants it to do, and calm down.


    The world is disgusting, and I am part of that. I am disgusting.


    "My humblest apologies for frightening the little ones," she backs away, hunched and tightly gripping the veil.


    "What monster? I don''t sense any monsters?" Lukas tugs up at Gable.


    "Lilyanne, there there don''t cry so. It''s alright. Oh I''m so sorry Multa Melitta. She doesn''t mean it like that. She''s just so young, and there there Lily." mother rocks the bawling toddler, trying to calm down her painful cries.


    Pain.


    I feel a pain I don''t fully understand when Lilyanne cries. I feel it with weak limbs and hot eyes.


    "Alright there Rosalia?" grampa stands right behind me, the shadow and presence solid despite never touching me.


    He does not try to comfort me. Does not scoop me up or take me away. He stands there patiently, watching. Waiting for whatever it is I choose to do myself. It oddly feels like the most reassuring thing he could have done.


    Pinpricks and acid still run through me. I''m scared. I''m sickened and scared. So ugly. I''m so-


    "Sorry. I''m sorry." I choke, feeling that awful pressure in my nose. Tears finally beginning to edge and drip down my eyes.


    It''s beneath me but I feel myself drop messily on knees. I feel myself curl up, almost like a bow yet still hiding my ugliness from the world.


    "I''m so so sorry. I''m sorry for being scared. I''m sorry for reacting like that. I''m sorry."


    The woman''s deformed appearance is truly repulsive.


    But my own revulsion, my natural flimsy character, disgusts me even more. I''m no better than the ignorant masses of people I hate and judge. Though I thought myself to be above them. Like being born ''noble'' or from another world means anything.


    I just proved it. I''m not better than those who denounced me without knowing a thing. I''m no better than my baby sister who innocently ran screaming. Crying.


    "I''m sorry. It hurts a lot right? Don''t be sad. I''m sorry. You don''t have to run away like that. You''re not scary or bad. You didn''t do anything wrong. I''m very sorry. Sorry."


    I''m babbling. The stupid tears won''t stop. It''s not like me at all.


    The woman bends low, also on her knees, as if to see eye level with the stupid little kid on crying her eyes out on the ground.


    "I see. You''re a kind one aren''t you? Thank you." she says gently, the way you speak to upset babies.


    My nose is so stuffed I can''t even sniff, my throat stuck and impossible to breathe let alone speak. I can only shake my head no at her comforts.


    We''re the ones that hurt her. We don''t need it. No one wants to be seen in that way, to be treated in that manner. It must have been hard. It must have been very painful, not just the treatment. It must have been a very long time she''s been living here like this.


    Strong arms that can only be grampa''s finally pick me up, lightly bouncing me as if I were a real child. Sweet nothings pressed into my ear. It sounds like he said good job, and for some odd reason, I cry more.


    It''s pathetic how much it comforts me, though my tears and hiccups only increase. Curse this body, curse this too young overly weak and sensitive body.


    "There you have it. My little monsters of grandaughters. Strong criers aren''t they? Sorry for the noise." grampa laughs, holding me into the firm softness of his chest to cry in.


    "Almost as bad as you were. They''re very cute. So is your son." that mismatches voice chuckles back.


    "Ahahaha! It''s really time for their break, they did warn us. We''ll be back to finish up the jobs, please take care of us then.


    "Of course and no, thank you."


    This short but painfully scary trip is not over. Far from it.


    But on the tunnel ride back through the other side, Georgie strokes my hair, uncomfortably silent while mother checks up on when still trying to calm down Lilyanne. Her own emotions a complicated and frazzled mix.


    Lukas could have gone with Gable for whatever they had planned for him but insisted he was tired and wanted a nap too. The kid crushes half my side along with my hand, just because he feels like it. They tuck us into a guest bed with cool sheets and I won''t say anything more.


    Not today.


    -------------------------------------------------


    -------------------------------


    -------


    -


    Lighter Road trip side story bonus. For those who need it. Still skippable.


    -


    --------


    --------------------------------


    -------------------------------------------------------------


    "It''s a...spoon?"


    Yuna tilts his head to the other side, trying to identify the item Amar questioningly held out of all the others at the stall, let alone the busy market.


    It wasn''t the nicest that they''ve seen, but it was something. Definitely a strange and new experience to everyone but Vincent. The borders between these two lands were friendly. Most importantly it was somewhere they could finally fix the damn wagon and get some spare tools.


    "It''s a spoon carved like out a chicken. I think?" Amar holds it up higher, inspecting and waiting for approval.


    "For Lukas? Why a chicken?"


    Yuna looks over to the specific stall, an array of seemingly decorative carved wooden spoons on display. Some were colorfully painted, some were varnished plain to showcase the natural wood, but there were all traditionally carved according to local traditions. Lots of decorative designs, though the most eye-catching to a child may be the animal-shaped handles.


    "Chickens," Amar says as solemnly as a child that young possibly can. "They raise chickens. "


    "...Yeah sure. Whatever you want to waste money on." Yuna waved off.


    Despite his words, he not only helps the child select a few souvenir spoons but angrily haggles with the stall merchant to prevent the kid from being ''ripped off''.


    "Are these eggs?" the boy inspects the painted wooden carvings that the seller gave and threw in for free, perhaps in a desperate big to get the kids away. "What do they do?"


    "Look pretty," Yuna spat out but sighed and took the younger boy''s hand for safety as they walk down the market, putting away the supposed gifts, "or some shit like that. People like pretty painted stuff."


    "Oh. Okay." Amar nods, swinging their hands together as they walked.


    He let the older boy handle the purchases and lead them down the sparse market alleyways. As they''ve often done in all the places before this. He knew how the teenager didn''t express it very well to the adults, but he worries.


    Amar doesn''t think anyone would want to kidnap him, not this far from home, and certainly not any weaklings. But if it made Yuna feel better, he''ll stick close and hold his hands.


    If bad people wanted to kidnap someone for those bad things, he honestly thinks they''ll grab the older boy first. Yuna was closer to the age the kidnapped slaves were sold the highest number in those parts of markets.


    He remembers how all the mamas and mistresses laughed from their hidden balconies, pointing down to the new girls in the training houses of the outer harem. They would make lots of jokes and bets. All over who was rarer, lovelier, or more useful. Who costs more and why? If any were worth taking in as underlings or better off arranged to be married to an officer. If they were worth the trouble, the investment.


    When his older sisters giggled, asking him to pick the prettiest ones, he couldn''t really answer for his mama was best. How could anyone compare to his mama? It was like asking if a random pebble, even a polished one, could be compared to the moon. That''s just silly.


    While they were walking and pointing out any strange or funny things, Cass waved at them from the end of the market alley. She quickly maneuvered her way over to them, the chains and silver coins of her usual headdress jingling when not wearing her cloak. Not minding the dark eyes following how she just left a jeweler''s the more high-end part of town.


    Let them come. It''s free money and stuff if they try mugging their unassuming party.


    "Done and good riddance. " she flushed. Pocket purse more than a bit heavier in local currency after getting rid of some of those broken jewels and gems at the awful castle.


    With the deft hands of a dealer, she counted out a reasonable portion and handed it to Yuna. The young teen still looked displeased though, pointing down to the boy.


    "What about his cut?" Yuna defended.


    "...It''s all his, you''re the one with a cut. " Cass made a shooing motion.


    "That''s cheating," Yuna hissed, arguing over the extra funds.


    "Whatever he wants to buy, I''ll get it for him."


    "Kid needs his own money, not some-"


    Amar felt his stomach rumble when sniffing something a passing traveler just bought. When he starts taking even half a step, the other''s are on him in a flash. As if they were never arguing in the first place.


    "Don''t step so far out on your own. You think this is kiddy safe Ventrella lands? Pfft it''s dangerous! Your skin is all baby soft and shit from the main house, easy for eating up."


    "Don''t teach him that! Little kahk, did you want some manti? Let''s get some with your favorite yogurt sauce?"


    "Shit, yogurt. There was this stall some ways back selling actual dehydrated yogurt balls. We gotta stock up."


    "I still do not understand it Yuna. What do those people eat it the place of yogurt?"


    "They don''t! It''s all vinegar or grape wine, and on fancy days we get half butter. I honestly think they''re just figuring out butter. The cooks in the main Ventrella houses didn''t even know how to clarify it until this year, when this brat here of all people told them."


    "I believe it. I hear they think salt is a spice."


    "Oh, it gets sadder to more north you go."


    While the two older ones bantered and discussed the sudden shopping list, they pulled the boy along. Allowing him to carry the wood tray of steaming baked dumplings as they shopped and found a decent looking tea house to sit back and relax a bit.


    That''s how Vincent found them. Splitting manti dumplings and summer plums in a very public and ...'' bohemian'' part of town while either arguing or organizing.


    But he supposes it''s better than another bawdy tavern, like the kind Tamera often drags them too.


    The others ignore him as he takes a tired seat, too busy figuring out translations and prices. They don''t even bother asking him if the wagon is ready yet, because of course not. They already knew that.


    "Did you eat yet? You look more tired than normal? Your breath smells like alcohol, did the repairmen make you drink with them? They drink really heavy stinky stuff around here. Good job. " Amar offers him medicinal tea and half a purple plum as he moves seats. The juices were sweet and refreshing.


    Vincent plops down on the table in maybe tears. He thinks this trip will actually kill him if the brat wasn''t here. It was a little pathetic but he has long accepted that.


    "Did you have fun today?" Vincent tries to be a decent person because that''s the right thing to do and not just because Tamera says that''s how to get dates.


    The other two were still arguing if something was a good deal or not.


    "Uh huh. Yuna and I went and bought souvenir kinds of stuff. I tried to find stuff you''re not supposed to find elsewhere. I think that''s how it works."


    "AH, yep yeah that''s how it should work for normal people. That''s how Tamera would do it. I hope she got that part right." the dark haired teen nods, weakly accepting everything Amar passed his way. From food in his mouth to souvenirs up for inspection.


    "Tamera lost a lot of hair in that accident. So we got her this hat for laters because she gets cold easy." the boy pulled out from Yuna''s shopping packs and piles.


    "....Is that something''s tail?" Vincent feels the dumpling drip from his mouth.


    "Hat. Feel?"


    "Oookay then. It...can be a hat, when turned inside out. I think she''ll actually like that. "


    Vincent doesn''t actually know, but when Amar beams, he forces himself to sit through the burning sunlight of that smile. Practice being decent people, he told himself. This is what normal people do for kids right? Amar was practicing normal kid stuff finally, right?


    Ah, they were the worse kind of people for this.


    "And I wanna buy jams too but I got these-" the kid pulled out next, "oh and Yuna got these wood eggs for free. I don''t know. "


    At this point everyone at the table looked over. Cass and Vincent turning their head various angles to figure the hell out what it was.


    "It''s a...monster bird thing?" Vincent tries


    "A fish! That one is a fish." Cass exclaims, figuring it out.


    "Uh huh, the chicken spoon is for Lukas. Because of chickens."


    They all play along. ''Oh yes'', ''of course'', ''that made perfect sense''. No, the fuck it didn''t but they would stab anyone who ruined this. Kids were strange creatures. Lukas would probably like a funny shaped rock, why not a chicken spoon?


    "And the fishy spoon is for Rosa. Because she''s really scary around raw salmon."


    Oooooh of course. Wait what?


    "You got princess strawberry, grumpy money rolling cries a lot when she''s hungry or mad Rosalia, a fish-shaped spoon?" Yuna says out.


    "Uh huh." Amar nods.


    "Do you want to be whacked with the spoon and get cried on. Again?" the blond just goes straight to the point.


    "Oh. I don''t think so? No?" Amar drops a little.


    He thought a fish spoon was funny. Not as good as a chicken spoon but still good. Should get two chicken spoons? Or three? Would Gable like a chicken spoon? Or the scary chicken mama? He''s pretty sure the stinky baby chick would like a random chunk of cheese so that was fine.


    "Eerrr um I think it will be fine." Vincent tries.


    "Cass," Yuna calls out, popping another dumpling, " you were a little girl once. What would happen if someone got you out of all things, a fish-shaped spoon?"


    "I would gratefully thank them. Of course." Cass responded well and fine.


    "Okay, but what would you actually want to do. Not what you should for face or shit. Besides cuss them out in your head," the younger countered


    "...hit them with the fish." she admits.


    "Aha! Yes. See. That''s Rosa, but worse. " Yuna points, more than ready to spill his worst babysitting stories.


    The young teen has no idea how he gets saddled with so many brats. Especially the young lady of the Ventrellas. What part of him screamed appropriate baby sitter material?! Lukas was included first because he followed along after Amar like a turtleduckling, but where the hell did the Lord Commander''s spoiled little granddaughters come in?


    "So....I should make it another chicken spoon?" Amar tilts his head in questioning.


    "Tamera would lose her shit over a chicken carved spoon no lie," Vincent thinks about it. But ultimately shakes his head, because that does not sound like a normal sane answer.


    "Typically don''t little girls like playing with dolls?" Cass leans back, remarking casually.


    She was the one with the least time and experience with the person in question. How was she to know just how wrong, cursed even, this statement would be?


    "That sounds...right?" Vincent agrees.


    "Maybe if it was made of gold." Yuna snorts. "A cloth sack ain''t gonna do it. That one likes hard cold cash. Coins. Precious gems. Money. I swore I have never seen a three-year-old try to pry and steal off the stupid decorative gems embedded into walls, but that''s what I caught her doing once. But that''s nothing on how crazy feral the younger one is."


    They get distracted, pouring cups of tea, and just not being tired out on the road for a while. The matter of spoons and souvenirs put away for the time being.


    The problem came the next day. At the very same market.


    "It''s a doll? A nicer one? The face is ceramic and not cloth? The eyes kinda look like gems?" Amar it held up, getting the thing at the very low price of "AHHHH! IT''S BACK?! TAKE IT! PLEASE FREE ME!" free from the shop keeper.


    He doesn''t think Rosa will like it very much but it sounded like all the qualifications were met. That and it might be funny. It could be like Kitti all over again. He''s sorry it got burned up like that.


    Yuna was on the floor laughing, choking on his own tears at the terror this would cause. He was getting another babysitting story for the books.


    "Oh, it''s perfect."


    -Road Trip Days till destination (7/49)

 131 Bubbles and bloom

    It doesn''t matter how big or advanced it is. There''s just always more stuff being built, repaired or upgraded. It''s the same way in the main troops back home, ever-expanding. It''s the same situation for a rocky military outpost like this.


    Lots of hands moving and voices yelling in rotation. If they''re not orders being handed out than they''re the reply of drills.


    Stone to cut and assemble. Morter to grind and mix. Ditches to dig and mounds to pack, fill and build. Supplies coming in and out. From the unaccounted for mines gathering a variety of substances to the scouting and hunting crews coming back from their shifts.


    It''s very noisy.


    From the safety of the windows of the main keep, where the best guest rooms are reserved, I watch the lively daily routines of this outpost.


    An outpost outside the mountains that are hiding a surprising valley where the leprosy colony lives in quarantine.


    I don''t expect ''guarding leprosy colony'' would be a very popular position to take.


    Not in the troops, or anywhere. No one would want the position out in the middle of nowhere with little to no chance of career advancements, adventure training, or good experience. The most you can earn is some credits. In a normal setting only newbies with no power, the very unambitious, or those serving some sort of punishment in the ranks would be stationed out here.


    So it comes at no surprise to me that things here are more than they appear.


    The impossible things going in and out in a place this isolated especially named ''badlands''. Not somewhere one really wants to start a home or a village or anything of the sort.But there are so many pelts, from the fur blankets on our beddings to the fresh meat coming in through the outer gates that there must be plenty to hunt.


    Perhaps in the still dangerous amounts of magic spots, and empty land for packs of beasts to roam. Food and provisions, perhaps some magical raiding spots are so up to run and make a profit. Then there''s a source of water, melted snow from the mountaintops running top. The same source as that waterfall. Probably well stored in water towers built into the mountains.


    Inside the valley, there seems to be a reasonable source of agriculture to supply the colony and village. Though there does appear to be some strict levels of separation between the residents and the troops.


    I have learned since yesterday that the colony runs much like an old fashioned village. More bartering than actual money, since not only is there no money system, no would accept the coin of a leper for fear of contamination.


    That much is true I suppose. Mental note to wash all my gold if I''m to roll around in it.


    It''s as close to virtual money as we can get.


    This kind of system can only be possible in the limited but very controlled environment that is the troops or this isolated colony here. No complaints, no competition, and rather basic. All for the better.


    In the closed confined space of the leprosarium, this system is even more effective. Given that there are literally no other windows to the outside world. The same goes for any tester models of buildings, road planning or other perplexing things that grampa wants to build.


    Of course, these are all things I''ve only been told rather really seeing first hand for myself.


    "No Rosalia, you''re not getting access into....any of it!" Georgie exclaims, counting off all the rejected Rosalia visitation zones.


    Which is literally everywhere!?


    Lilyanne may be amused with a few toy blocks, a chalkboard and an amusingly furry bed for nap time but I''m not!


    Mother had left us only after a late breakfast and morning ''play'' time, assigning the official baby sitter to watch out over us till sundown. Wherever could she have gone that I can''t go? Why am I getting treated like the delicate dainty one here? The roles are all wrong!


    Even Lukas is gone. Either blissfully off to enjoy all that is Gable, or cannon tossed up the top of that mountain range. Whatever it is the keeps monster kiddies in tip-top strong conditions? Well, if an avalanche occurs today, we''ll know what caused it.


    "I understand we''re not at home and I don''t have all my usual privileges, but surely it''s unreasonable to keep us isolated from everything," I complain.


    "There is not a single place here that''s for children." Georgie says resolutely, scrubbing my wriggling sister and her dirty hands from drawing.


    "Well, I didn''t say we were taking her." I point out.


    Like a moody behaving toddler, my sister violently starts splashing the bowl of soapy water. If I didn''t know any better I would say she''s trying to splash that whole dirty wave at me. How rude.


    "Rosa meanie pants." she huffs, and tries wiping her wet hands at me.


    Since I am not wearing pants, I will conclude she is a dumb baby. Oh well. It can''t be helped as she tends to get cranky before nap time, especially so when zap zap sessions leave her feeling much more drained than usual. In another life that would be more than enough to get her pampered and cared for every second of the day. Now however it''s treated more like exercising and tiring out an annoyingly hyper toddler.


    Which is exactly how it is.


    "Be good and take your nap." I try to mollify her by patting on the bed.


    A rural thing far far far below any of my usual standards already lowered in this non-modern world. Memory foam? Futons? Spring mattresses? Ahahahhaha no we suffer so much with wooden poster beds and tight rope supported sacks for mattresses, even the wealthy. Can we have some better sheets at least?


    However, if this is the best thing they have here I shudder to think of the foot soldiers'' dorming quarters. I''m pretty sure the troop''s dormitory bunk beds are literally stuffed with straw.


    "That''s right girls. It''s time for your naps." Georgie lays our own silk sheets over one of the sad animal skin beds. Much better. He''s learning how to be prepared.


    Wait why am I included in this?


    "There is so much work to be done, Georgie. You can''t possibly expect me to stay cooped up in here like some common child." I reason.


    "Nap nap nows Rosa. Curtains Geogie!" my sister yawns loudly, wiping her hands dry on my chemise.


    Despite all my strength training, my assistant easily lifts and sets both of us in the made bed. Then starts to draw the canopy curtains close on me.


    "Georgie!"


    I am insulted, to be treating me in the same vein as this three year old.


    I don''t need a nap I say!


    "Yes yes Miss. Rosalia. Would you like a waaaaarm milk before taking your nap?" Georgie mocks, already warming up a pot of milk on a brazier.


    "No! We have work to do! Give me back my purse and get me some pants. There are inspections to be made before we can create a workable plan. So many faults. So many sanitation hazards. Order the mops and brooms, I''ve seen what cleaning is like here and I don''t like it. We''ll deduct the funds from the accounting department after this. Along with the soaps. What is the animal fat storage here? It must be wonderfully overstocked, we''ll take some off their hands."


    "Yaaaay milkies. And pillows." Lilyanne claps, completely ignoring me even if she understood a thing.


    "Yes young Miss Lilyanne. Milkies and your fluffy feathery pillows. You shall have it all. And when you''re finished I will set the hourglass to turn one and half times." Georgie stirs, looking like a little housewife in his apron. Also completely ignoring me.


    "Nap nap nap. Lily stay wakey for milkies. Chu chu~" she makes kissy faces, as if already slurping up her favorite milkies.


    I glare, obviously alone in my endeavors.


    "...once I find my way out of here you shall rue the moment you chose the wrong side, Georgie." I seethe. Edging my way to hop off the bed, if not for Lilyanne pulling me back by the dress every time I try.


    "Nooooooo Rosa. Nap nap time. Be good an take your nap!" she parrots my own line from earlier back at me.


    I don''t know whether to be proud or insulted.


    "Of course Miss Rosalia. I shall regret it oh so much, just like I already do..." Georgie sighs, pouring out the warm milk. Spooning in the honey that will soothe as much as it will ruin our teeth.


    Hey, what is our toothpaste made out of?


    "Just drink your milk Rosa. Please."


    "Cavities and teeth decay is not a joke Georgie."


    "Sage grout! Herb charcoals! Salt crystals! Mint! That stuff that''s mined here and powdered I don''t know, that''s all I know. Please just drink it and go to sleep. Please don''t sneak out. Your mother and grandfather will be back by dinner and you can go crazy then." he begs. The fearful dictionary picture of any babysitter stuck with a danger prone child.


    "...what are we mining that''s used in toothpaste? Is that even safe for human consumption? Who thought of this? What''s their reasoning?"


    In the time I''m trying to figure out what materials are being mined and their uses, with Georgie uselessly sobbing by my bedside, Lilyanne has finished off not one but two cups of warm milk and honey. Entirely giving up the fight with the boring waking world, she retreats into a sloppy sleep over my back.


    Such a heavy girl? Ack.


    "Georgie tuck her in. I won''t sneak out, I understand orders are orders and won''t make things harder for you. But I will need to use the chalkboard to organize and as much information about the local camp to the connecting leprosarium as possible."


    "...of course Miss Rosalia....why don''t I get you...another waaaaarm cup of milk while you ...work."


    "Very well and good Georgie."


    I wish I was smarter. If I can''t be a magical cheat then why couldn''t I be some unparalleled genius that could bring all the benefits of modernization to the forefront?


    But nooooooo, all I can currently do is make some soap and struggle to convince people to upgrade their brooms and mops. Great reincarnated into another vaguely medieval world story you have here Rosalia. This is why we save all the exciting fun stuff for the protagonists.


    Let''s see. Grampa has some sort of binding mortar or cement going on here, as evidence by these buildings. It''s a much rougher version of what I see hold the local home ports together.


    There must be limestone, plenty of that. But we already have natural limestone and sandstone mines close to home. So the materials here must be more than just that. I recognize a lot of uniquely baked clay used in the dishes here, so there must be a plentiful source as well.


    Clay and lime mixed with aggregates such as ash and debris of all the mountain stones could form concrete. Great. So we do have concrete, or whatever else grampa probably calls it here. Great.


    Do we brush our teeth with it?! I should hope not?!


    I swear I was in the middle of drawing out a blobby version of what I could remember of a periodic table, along with listing out natural materials and ingredients in this world. Focusing on the top Calcium rows. Really getting somewhere with that. I just know it.


    I was on a roll, occasionally sipping warm milk like it was coffee. For the first time in years, since I''ve first arrived here, I was on full work mode. Concentration! Productivity!


    Somehow I seemed to have passed out.


    I know now because I am currently blinking away the delirium of sleep and flashcard nightmares from my eyes. Nightmares I say!


    Mendeleev''s table and atomic mass. To the modern Periodic Table. 118 elements. 7 Rows. 18 groups. Count the atomic number. Oxygen, hydrogen, sulfur, sodium, and phosphorous walk into a bar. ''OH SNaP!'' says the bartender.


    No more bad jokes please. High school was not the end, oh god why did I ever let myself suffer all that again with tutoring them. First Jung-Joon, that faker, then anyone who asked. My own brother. Never tutor family. Never. Ever!!!


    Flashcards. So many flashcards.


    That''s enough of that nightmare.


    The bed''s curtained canopy still drawn and I am alone inside the bed. Beyond the curtain, not only is Lilyanne up and back to playing around but my chalkboard has been entirely erased. The first sign of the Periodic table in the world replaced with my sister''s hideous doodles.


    The nightmares are back. So many flashcards. So many bad chemistry jokes.


    More importantly, my table!!! Do you know how much of a headache I got thinking all that up!?! From memory??!


    "Good job Rosalia, that was two hours. You napped for two full hours." Georgie cheers, ignorant in his crimes against the good of science and humanity.


    "Give me back my work!" I feel faint.


    "Rosalia?" Georgie puts down whatever he was playing with Lilyanne with, coming to my side. It''s very much unnecessary. I just got up too fast, still sleepy. Just, let me yawn and...


    "Maybe I should have cut the caramel piece even smaller?" Georgie wonders out loud to himself, poking at my lethargic state.


    Excuse me?


    Excuse me worse babysitter in the world. Did you mean to say you drugged my milkies? To get me to take a nap?! Where even did you get some damn- the minion! He got some of those sleeping caramels after all?! These better not come with those side effects!?!


    Oh, there I go yawning again.


    This is awful. My eyes are tearing up, unwilling to stay open. Horrible! I''ll get you, Georgie! I''ll get you back so hard!!! Just you wait!


    Right after another...forced...nap. Real quick. Just let me...zzzzzzz.


    Sweet void of dreamland aside, being a baby of any kind must really be messed up.


    Imagine going to sleep inside your own home or something, then waking up suddenly at the store, or the beach, or any the damn place the adults around you so please.


    That is exactly what happens to me the moment I next open my eyes. Not snuggled up in a dark curtained bed in my little nightgown, no. I''m bundled up outside the zap zap tree and orchard zone on the other side of this cliff. Lilyanne marching along to a song far below me.


    No warnings. No, ''oh wake up Rosalia, we''re going somewhere now''. Just ''bam!''. An instant teleport apparently to my weak and sleepy senses.


    Even worse. I am in the ultimate boobie baby sling. I''m strapped in and being carried...by grampa.


    "Unhand me!"


    "Oh goodie. Pumpkin you''re up! Great timing!"


    "Release me from this shameful prison, at once."


    "There there now pizzapie, don''t fidget. If you''re not strong enough to break through by sheer force, conserve your strength, and more accurately plan your breakout! Locate your captor''s weak points but don''t act rashly. Instead, gather your resources, it''s not stealing if you''re taken captive, and wait for the right- "


    "Grampa. Just let me down already."


    "Using your blunt cute charms! May or may not be effective depending on the receiver but generally lowers their attack stat. Be careful of using charm, especially at your age- it''s very very very dangerous."


    "Grampa!"


    The days are longer and the sun sets later in the summertime. While there is still daylight, for it to be so low in the sky means it''s already well to the end of the day. Though I feel as if I''ve done nothing all day, my tummy slightly rumbles in need. It''s already supper time!


    "Alright, you and charm win. Now go along with your sister. Don''t overdo it, just play to your hearts'' content~"


    We are literally zapping a secret treasured tree that grows mystical life-extending fruit, with Lilyanne''s pure healing magic like it was fertilizer. This is not playing around.


    "Lalala push push zap." Lilyanne sing songs.


    Okay maybe for her it''s playing, and that''s perhaps for the best. She''s too young to even try and understand the implications of what she''s doing. She can''t even look in the face of a sick patient without bursting out crying.


    It''s too intimidating, even in a world of magic.


    I think I may have a slightly stronger stomach for such things. I''m more used to it. Not saying I had much experience around a literal leprosy colony or anything of the sort. It''s just...hospitals...have you ever lived in a hospital?


    In the past, whenever a young Lilyanne had taken ill with fever and bouts, it was always a stressful time. The physicians, the treatments, the panic, and the tenseness that goes on through the house. But it was always private, though worrisome as it was. Even when she was sent ''away'' for further rest and recuperation, it was with the splendor of a pampered young miss. Her every whim and comfort saw too. As lovely and relaxing as possible.


    In my past, that was far from the case.


    There were no house calls with honored invited physicians and alchemists. We had noisy ambulances and rushed hospital bags.


    It was no luxury treatment, far from it. Insurances and waiting room after vinyl cold waiting room. False reassurances and mislead diagnosis. Pain that didn''t stop. Bodily functions that wouldn''t, couldn''t keep functioning.


    Any pity I''ve ever felt for poor pitiful Lilyanne, inconsolably weak and crying, comes to me like waves lapping at the shore.


    Like the seaside vacation taken but a little over a year go. The cold shocks my bare feet and sinks me just a bit smaller into the wet sand if I don''t keep moving. Sometimes, if I go in too far in or the waves are particularly strong, it surprisingly splashes me more than expected. At the edge of pulling, playful most days, but the danger not to be underestimated.


    There is no comparison, even after a lifetime of this beautiful tragedy. It is still absolutely nothing.


    Nothing compared to the sight, the stark reality of seeing my brother hooked up to a ventilator.


    It was so silent then. No whining, no crying, not even if I begged him to. Begged him to complain. To even roll his eyes in that childishly annoying way or give me any response at all. There was none then. Only monotone beeping and labored breaths through a machine, pumping oxygen through his windpipe, just to keep him alive long enough for the next round of treatment.


    If Lilyanne on her worst days were the waves pulling me in a little too strongly, enough to slip in the water, then Heng Fei is the drop.


    Full plunge into the open seas with no shore in sight. There is no comparison.


    Never had a damn tube stuck down her throat because her own body wouldn''t work. Couldn''t breathe on her own.


    Never had needles shoot down her fragile little spine just to test and rule out all the damn things it could be let alone the transplant surgeries.


    Never had her own nerves freeze up and fail on her, paralyzing with no chance of recovery. A lifetime of physical therapy your only choice if you wanted any function of anything. Your face. Your arms. But not the legs. Never again.


    I want to go back to thinking about flashcards and concrete toothpaste. I want results and productivity. I don''t want to dwell on how useless I am. I don''t want the sadness that isn''t even mined to be drowning me.


    The problem of Lilyanne''s weak childhood constitution is fixed with the strange non-magic already existing inside me. But I can''t do anything else. Not really.


    I can''t do anything but watch.


    Paper cards with messy handwriting, tediously written to stay neat, spilling out of their case on cheap hospital sheets.


    A seemingly pretty girl, dark circles hidden under her makeup, fumbled to right them all back together.


    "Wait no- sorry! Wrong flashcards. These are chemistry, damn you won''t need these till like, pffft another few years? Man is high school gonna be a pain." she laughed off.


    It almost echoed in the sparse room, as small as it was. But they were the only occupants, the other bed cleared just the day before.


    The file chart on this sole bed listed his name as Henry, age as 11.


    He held an obvious resemblance to the chattering girl, withered as he was. Something about his facial muscles leaving it stiff and unnatural, sometimes saliva would even uncontrollably leak out. Something he would quickly try to wipe before his sister noticed.


    She did. She tried not to feel hurt when he pushed her touch aside.


    He held none of his usual warmth. Or even crass banter. He didn''t feel like it. Couldn''t.


    "....Jie, stop it." the tense line in his mouth finally broke


    ''I may not have a few years left.'' goes unsaid.


    ''I might not make it that far.'' said the silence.


    ''Stop trying.''


    If Meng shook, then it was in anger, not sadness. She didn''t have that right. She wasn''t the one hooked up to IVs and machinery, wasting away half-paralyzed in her own body. She wasn''t the other child, one bed away, taken cold and gone not even 48 hours ago. She wasn''t the one drowning in it all.


    "What? Trying to work your way out of homework?! Ha! You''re not falling behind shit when you get back into class. If it''s a few weeks from now or years. Now here!" she pulls out the right materials, not mixing them up this time. It''s all she can do, and do it well she will.


    Brown eyes, normally so much larger and brighter than her own, listlessly turned away, unnaturally hooded and limp.


    "I still can''t move my arm today." he said, young voice cracking with difficulty.


    Meng clenches her fist, so hard the skin welted up from where nails pressed. Both angry and grateful for the pain she can still feel. It''s not about her, so she has to be brave. Has to smile comfortingly, tasting iron blood where she bites inside her cheek.


    "Of course not. It will take time obviously, and we''ll work on it. " she takes the young boy''s hand, the one he can''t feel. It''s with affection how she pries each finger, massaging the tendons and joints.


    "...Stop." he doesn''t dare look, like how he doesn''t look under the blankets covering his legs. Once as healthy and moving as any other boy his age.


    "Don''t be stupid, this is part of your therapy treatment too. Now, what subject do you want to start with today? And tell me which snacks you want, I''ll make someone bring them for you. Your usual croquettes? Hot dog bread with extra ketchup? Hmm, honey buns?" she clenches, the slightly smaller hand unfeeling just how hard.


    "...How much?"


    "Honeybuns? As much as you want, you little diabetic in the making. A special treat. Or do you mean-"


    "How much does it all cost?! Not the bread! I hear it, I can hear all of you! The antibiotics didn''t work! They say I need surgery to even hope to move my legs again and, I know that''s not covered. I hear you out there on the phone with dad yelling about money. I know! I can still hear you!" he chokes.


    Literally chokes, starting to cough uncontrollably against his will. Tears of pain and frustration already spilling from redding eyes.


    "Breathe. Breathe Heng Fei, please calm down and breathe." she feels short on breath herself, hyperventilating with panic when the seconds pass, and the situation spins out of control.


    Waves. One after another. A complete drop from the ground below.


    There is no ground and she can''t breathe, even as her body still moves to slam the red button repeatedly.


    No senses when the strong nurses rush in. Can''t feel or make out a thing but the vertigo rush when they fail to stabilize her brother''s breathing. The doctors come next in waves, yelling out orders in medical jargon she can barely make out. Content unmemorized, unlearned, like spilled flashcards.


    "Inflammation" "Code Blue" "Ventilator" "Life support" "Sedation"


    Things she doesn''t want to understand, made all the worse in their fragments.


    It''s not her. She''s not the one suffering. She''s not the one fucking dying, for no damn good reason, her brother was dying right in front of her eyes. And she could do nothing but watch them take him away.


    Why does it feel like she''s dying too?


    The waves rush and take her wherever they so damn please. Wrung and washed like a corpse afloat. She''s already past the point of losing it and she can''t breathe.


    "M-ng. Meng!"


    A vaguely familiar voice bubbles. Pops uselessly through the cold water till they smother her directly. Oxygen already lost so why try resuscitating? Hands reach out, burning and solid, and all of a sudden she finds herself already sitting on plastic. A scratchy blanket over her shaking shoulders and LED lights flickering the hospital hall in an eerie blue.


    She''s fine. She''s not the one drowning.


    "I''m sorry I got here so late, they didn''t let me in till just now. Meng, are you alright?" uselessly kind hands feel cool against her face when that''s impossible.


    All of her feels so cold. Deep sea, space, void. She can''t do anything. Not even control herself. It was all so damn frustrating.


    "What... do I do?" she finds herself asking blankly.


    "Shhhh, you''re going to be okay." a young man tries breaking through, taking her into his arms and wiping the tears she can''t feel on her too pale face.


    She was like this the day they first really met. Shivering numb. Silent. Reminiscent of a female ghost, a drowned and drained spirit with a face that haunts all your best dreams and nightmares. Unlike then, where he could only hide and wait, he hangs on. Foreheads pressed, hands gently holding on to her terrified self.


    "What should I do?" she sounds so lost. Because that''s what she is.


    Lost. She lost the backpack, with all the homework. The study sheets? Oh no. She''ll need to make more. It wasn''t just hers and Heng Fei''s stuff. Flash cards. Jung-Joon''s flashcards.


    "I lost your flashcards?" she recognizes him, even this absurdly close. Recognizes through all the violent emptiness, unlike the last, first, time.


    "Screw the fucking flashcards. All I want is to ask again and again if you''re ok, even though it''s clear you''re not." he holds her close, unwillingly to see her so cold.


    "...the flashcards. It''s a school night. It''s so late?...What are we doing wasting time here? I have phone calls to make. Does the hospital need me to sign anything? Let''s get you home before your mom worries," she shakily tries to get up.


    Not that he''ll let her. Not like this.


    "It''s not okay, you already know this. None of it is ok. " he wraps the blanket tighter, waiting.


    "You? What are you doing? There''s so much that needs to be done, stop messing around."


    "You did so well. Such a good job all this time. " he hugs tighter. "Thank you, you''re amazing. Thank you for staying, thank you for everything. You try so hard and do so much. Heng Fei knows. We all know. "


    Heng Fei. He couldn''t breathe. It''s spread to the point he can''t even breathe. Where did they take him? Where did they go? Not him? Anyone but him?


    "What ...should I do? Next. What''s next? ...Oh god. What do I do?" the tears suddenly flood, torrents and storms. She can''t stop herself. She''s the sea and she''s drowning herself. Why can''t she stop?


    "That''s it. None of this is ok, so don''t hold it in. Don''t hurt yourself like that. It hurts just watching, you know that. Thank you for answering back, thank you for letting me in."


    "Jung-Joon, what do I do? What am I supposed to do?!"


    Bubbles and seafoam, washed away into nothing. It means nothing in the end. Absolutely nothing.


    "What do I do?"


    The bubbles bursts.


    They bloom pink and gold. Fat flat fruits like Saturn peaches riped above in the reflecting emerald foliage right before my eyes. It''s the golden hour, the oversized sun setting majestically over the vivid mountainous valley''s edge in a halo effect.


    I realize where I am. Who I no longer am. There''s a story to play out and prevent. New plans to follow through if I don''t want the worst kind of ending.


    "Lilyanne stop!" I call out, feeling too late how full the current capacity is for miracle grow all around us.


    "Okay dokey Rosa!" a cute little girl complies.


    She takes my hands and if I squeeze, she squeezes back. Feeling everything. Healthy as a horse. So very cute.


    Not like my own little brother. Officially little no matter how old he gets, how much he survives. So moody sometimes, especially as a teenager, sheesh. So uncute.


    There are no money worries or painful hospitals here. This is a magical place where none of those things follow me. Nothing and no one.


    "Grampa! We fruited your stupid special tree. Now what''s next?" I turn and pull Lilyanne along, expecting her praises and my pay.


    Well, I didn''t do anything actually but I still want to be paid!


    ''You did so well.''


    No one said that.


    Not grampa, not me, not even the whistling night breeze. But I still hear it bubbling inside me, in a silvery voice that''s not my own. It makes the pit of my stomach oddly warm and my chest feels contradictorily tight as well as light.


    ''Thank you.''


    I don''t get near enough the thanks I deserve!


    Oh hoho, I''m making more than just money with the identity of the young miss Rosalia. Just you wait. I''m hardly getting started as the ultimate villainess. The nobles will all shake and bow shamefully before my power. The commoners shall fear how much they love me, or well my stuff. I make things, they enjoy them, for a price. Everyone wins.


    "Huh? Didn''t expect them to sprout after three sessions. Well that''s my girls for you!" grampa laughs, petting at our heads.


    "It was nothing, right Lily?" I huff.


    "Push push and cheer with Rosa!" Lilyanne exclaims.


    "Is that so? How wonderful." grampa imitates her, cheering along with imaginary pom-poms. Definitely not a cute image.


    "We''ve done practically nothing but nap all day. Now we have plenty of energy for our age group. Since we''ve completed so much on this end already....." I start in my business proposal mode.


    "Hmmm whatever it is, it will definitely wait till at least after dinner pumpkin. It''s time to be getting back! Remember to use charm on your mama girls! And don''t ask how her day went!"


    "Yaaaaay mama! "


    "But the food here sucks! What did you do to mother? Wait, don''t distract me." I count off the list of things I can immediately see to, even as a toddler.


    As grampa carries us off back to the troop''s buildings and to the tunnel wagon ride, I verbally document them out. It''s very professional and not at all like someone nodding along to a rambling child.


    "I want to get into the leprosarium. You''re responsible for its major construction plan, right? I want to see it up close, and there''s probably plenty to improve on. What do you all know of safety and sanitation? You, people, make weak soap out of pan grease, nothing like my bars. I should be standardly paid for those. Let''s make an official renewable contract. This place is so isolated...should I start a branch factory out here? And do you understand elements and grouping? Or how the world works and is made up of atoms? Ahem, and there''s something I''d like to test out in regards to Lilyanne''s zap zap, but uh....through me? If that makes sense. "


    "Perfectly pumpkin! Let''s start by asking permission over dinner~"


    Somehow I don''t think he understood a thing I just said.


    Just wait. Grampa''s a closet nerd. He''ll surely be interested once I make and pull out the flashcards on this world''s version of the table of elements. Let''s revolutionize science and understanding! Concrete and soap!


    So much to do, so little time. It''s already quite complicated and we''re not even done with the drawing board.


    The staircase colony is still in sight. Medicine and science is sadly lacking. The troops really need more updating and restructuring, while I need clearer info to be effective. The outside will eventually go rife with famine, struggle, and the collapse of power under the veil of Lilyanne''s romantic drama. This is not that great of a story to live.


    My stomach bubbles distractingly. Perhaps I''m just that hungry? It still burns and tingles, maybe giving my chest that light case of similar burning.


    But the open starry sky between dusk looks really pretty out here. It almost makes me feel like it''s okay to feel any way I like. I lose sight of it, and the twinkling stars emerging, before it goes full dark, our ride rolling us back away. I couldn''t even see the moon.


    Not that it went anywhere.


    ''Thank you. I love you.''


    "I love you?" I feel myself mouthing before I can stop it. Huh odd?


    "*gasp* Awwwwwwww pppppuuuumpkin!!!"


    "Lily and grampapa loooooove Rosa too!"


    "Wait no that''s not what I meant. No! Get away! Get your huggies away!"


    --------------------


    ------------


    -----


    Bonus content ft Lukas (and Gable) and the snowy border control. Here. Late but here. Thank you for waiting.


    Also optionable and skippable.


    -----


    --------------


    ----------------------------


    "Gable! All I do is homeworks and a lot of nothing. It''s not cool at all. All my sidekicks are doing waaaaaay cooler hero stuff. Even the stinky baby!" Lukas talks as he walks.


    That was nothing new. Only it resounded notably in the emptiness of it all. There were no trees or scattering little wildlife like in their neck of the woods. Only open air and the snow that still clung to the rocks.


    "...sidekicks." Gable looked down at the adorably walking bundle.


    Ronald told him this morning that he was overdressing the boy, after all it was summer. But up here at this high elevation one couldn''t be too prepared. Believe it or not, Gable was more worried about sunburns.


    He himself was cloaked to prevent against the elements but not anywhere as thickly as Lukas. Their steps left vastly differnt imprints in the vast snow behind them.


    "One and two. Amar can be sidekick one because he''s first. Rosa''s number two even though she''s not very strong. But there''s lots of kind of strongs." Lukas explains, counting under his mittens. They just, couldn''t see his fingers underneath there.


    "Ah. Yes. Various sorts of strengths in this world, it would be unwise to disregard them simply because they don''t look to be the same as yours. "


    "Bacon is best but it goes better with potatoes and eggs and bread and anything. They can be the eggs to my bacon. Or my mashed potatoes and gravy. Or baked potatoes Or or or-"


    "I believe I have the full picture, Lukas."


    The bright sunlight was very harsh reflecting off the steadily melting snow. It made Lukas squint the whole time he walked. Slush was harder to walk in than snow so sometimes he stomped around and made it all fluffy again.


    Just the areas the Gable pointed out to him, but eventually, he was figuring out the pattern. Freeze up the slush where they walk, sometimes look for more things.


    He doesn''t know exactly what but it was fun. Like a treasure hunt!


    "Rosa said she founds stuff under the old tree. Can I do that too?" the boy asks, looking around.


    "Perhaps. Magic isn''t entirely dependent on your innate talent. It must be refined. Honed. Like steel to a sword, where it once was but hidden in rock. When extracted and molten you can shape it to your best ability. That is why we must grow your knowledge, and thus abilities."


    "Booo, you just want me to do more homework studying!"


    Well, he exactly wasn''t wrong. Gable hummed in response.


    The reflection of the sun glared across the snowy surfaces. Sometimes, with one wrong step, Lukas would even disappear into a snow bed. Just sink himself in from bodyweight alone, forcing Gable to constantly be pulling him out.


    The boy could freeze the path around him instantly, so it was clear that Lukas was enjoying the sudden snowdrops and consequent attention. When Lukas was falling a little too often, Gable started suspecting he was doing it on purpose.


    "You''re figuring out where the powder spots are? " Gable prompted patiently.


    "Uh huh! I''m awesome like that! Rosa said when she''s with the stinky one, she can feel magics and stuff but they all look different. So are spots without. So if I try really really really hard it gets easier to feel snow and better the stuff that''s not snow." Lukas shook off the fluff.


    "Interesting turn."


    Gable tries, he really does. He''s pulled out all the archives and storage of books and tomes, carefully transcribing them by level for Lukas to learn. Then when he figured the obvious...discrepancy in Lukas'' literacy levels, they started from scratch. Bottom-up.


    But honestly, it seemed that Lukas learned best by example, and especially so around the other children.


    When first tackling the neverending mission that was Lukas'' eduction, Gable found it wasn''t entirely hopeless. The little boy was very eager to please, much more so than Maria had to subjects at that age. While not particularly studious, and definitely behind a noble''s tutoring, there were certain...unexpected strengths.


    "Amar''s much better at counting and stuff and it helps you climb stuff better and sneak around." then Lukas would answer why his sense of numbers, calculations, and even shapes were much more advanced than his other subjects.


    It made sense, given how Lukas tended to stick to the other child in their time at the troops. IF the boy was willing to attend, let along keep awake, to any lessons, it would most likely only be ones with Amar in tow.


    "Speaking people is hard but marking is worse! Too many words. Amar and Yuna explained it lots better." the boy would subsequently cry over his writing practice scripts, little hands cramping unused to the finer work.


    Also reasonable. The boy''s past closer to Ronalds''s than Gable''s. Only the most rudementory of lessons, since his fountains were so lacking. Well, at least Lukas could hold his quill without too much difficulty...or breaking every single one. It''s fine, they had Maria''s old talon quills. Though chalk was much easier and less wasteful.


    "Tree histories of nobles is stoooooopid, so stuuuupid. There''s too many losers. Even Rosa says they''re stupid and she reads all the boring stuffs. Why do I gotta know dis?!?! No one cares! Waaaaahhhhh." Lukas would sob and tantrum in frustrated boredom after any grains more than a quarter of a glass, of attempting to learn the noble houses and lines.


    That particular lesson plan was put on full hold. Perhaps when Lukas was...much older? And more patient?


    Or as Ronald would say, "you can''t teach them to fish without actually taking them to fish." Though that often came along with lots of teeth, screaming, and waterlogged crying children. Yeah. Gable hasn''t trusted Ronald in over 30 years and he''s not starting again any time soon.


    The point of the matter is that Lukas could roll around and cry into study material for years, learning at as reasonable a pace you can expect from a hyperactive 6 year old, but pick up things at lighting speed when properly exposed. Like how he was now picking up exactly what Rosalia reported to see and sense unnaturally, but in his own way.


    This was especially the case in all things physically active.


    Gable misses having the Amar around already. That one could get Lukas to sit still and read his damn books. And unlike with Rosalia, Lukas wouldn''t come up to him afterward asking the strangest questions on the most inconceivable topics.


    Yeah....he''ll just leave that part to Ron.


    "Gable? What kinds of stuffs are we really supposed to be looking for?" Lukas spoke up, sliding, and gliding along when he got bored.


    It was good for him to practice, not just in winter. Making ice itself wasn''t too hard, especially in a place like this, coming easy as breathing. But once again, self-control was the boy''s greatest trouble.


    "What makes you think we''re looking for anything? Can''t it just be a sort of practice?" Gable slowly asked, seemingly exerting no effort at all in their impossible trek. Seemingly floating. When he wasn''t dragging Lukas out of another snow pile. It was easy to get lost.


    It was so quiet up here. Echoes and openness. Peaceful even.


    "Because it''s too sad." Lukas said.


    As simply as he states the sun is big or bacon is tasty. This silent emptiness was all too sad.


    The sun glared reflected on snow all around, so easy to get lost with no markers. They couldn''t even see down to the valley from here, nowhere the other way was, if not for their own footprints. The colony down below, the troops buildings and markers, tunnels hidden into the hills, all gone and out of sight.


    If it was any worse weather than perfect summer days, they wouldn''t see in a thing. Trapped in this basic of ice and nothing.


    There were no fences, no walls nor any sort of barriers separating the valley from the mountains. Other than the main tunnel gate, the only path in and out of the valley, anyone was free to go wherever they pleased unguarded. Where else when there was nothing but the badlands beyond? Ronald gave them more freedom than any other place. Warnings or not, with it came the most danger. It came with the hope of escape.


    Perhaps that was a mistake.


    When Lukas made for a running jump, this time he didn''t disappear into the remaining ice and snow. They blew out, as if the boy commanded gust and wind instead, creating a conspicuous clearing. A crater in all the glaring white.


    Gable did''t stop him. Didn''t try to pull or hold him back.


    This was the same kind of risk Ronald offered. Freedom, but for what? This was a price that would eventually be paid. Taking in a child like Lukas. Watching first hand what he''s bound to become. Grown.


    If it was little Maria all these years ago, Gable would never allow it. There would be no word of it under his rooftops or wherever he could still so reach. He probably wouldn''t even allow it now with Rosalia, and certainly not the youngest.


    But Lukas was his responsibility, his true and tired tragedy.


    He cannot undo the past. He cannot atone for the mistakes made and the ones who suffered for them in his stead. He still cannot face reality fully, ever running even from himself.


    He would have ideally liked to leave his past behind. He would have liked to stop dragging Ronald down with him. So close too.


    So imagine his shock to find them crashing all seemingly at once.


    A lost barefoot child with too much a resemblance Ron, to Maria in all her young and free wilding glory. The man himself, the sight of him alone always enough to knock the air from Gable''s lungs. And of course, the child he can never make up to. Cursed before birth with the winding cruel plot after plots of adults. Unwanted. Unloved. Locked to rot.


    Abandonment the kindest thing his mother had ever done for him.


    Lukas stares for a long time, his little breathes beginning to frost and solidify in the cold. Something he should be able to control. Yet he does not. Maybe he cannot.


    The boy stares for a long silent time.


    "Scary." Lukas shakily steps forward.


    That''s enough, that''s more than enough. Gable finally, god damn finally, allows himself to move. To pull up Lukas and comfort the tears will be incoming. But the boy slips out of his grasp, the fast in his rush.


    Lukas''s cries were always messy. Always too loud and too much from the heart.


    "It was scary right? It must have been really dark and scary! I know. Sorry! Sorry you went through that. Sorry. It''s not dark anymore. We got you out. It won''t be scary anymore..." he sobs, chocking on his own hiccups and tears.


    Gable would have stopped him from getting close. From touching the infected bodies, frozen as they are. But he feels ...defeated. It was a surprise, yet it was not. This reaction. He should have known this boy, the kind of heart he held beating in him. He already knew it was so different from his own. Closer to the cut someone like Ron was made out of.


    Lukas stops anyways, simply drops to the floor but a few steps away. As if his legs somehow lost their tireless strength. It all going into his blows and cries instead.


    "Sorry! I don''t know what I''m sorry for, I''m just really sorry and my friend says that it makes people feel better. Sorry you were waiting so long. It must have been really dark for a long long time. But look!"


    The snow billows and blows, as if every speck was as light as a feather. As beautiful as it was horrible.


    The revealed corpses lie peacefully under the frost. Huddled together as if merely fending off the cold of the night. There were small children in the women''s arms, even a baby. Men at the forefront. Youths to the side. No less than a dozen of them, not counting the litt ones, scattered paces from each other. Maybe at least until the storm hit.


    At least they had each other in the end. They weren''t alone.


    Gable can''t even sigh.


    These people knew what they were getting into. No one would stop their escape, but neither would anyone rescue them. The elements themselves were more of a prison wall than anything the could have come up with. They could have lived out their lives peacefully in the colony down below. It wasn''t perfect by any means but it was more than most of them could have ever afforded in the outside world.


    Large spacious, though oddly built, insulated homes. Stone paves roads and running water. The chance to resume your old trade, or take a new one. Contribute back to the colony provided for free. Raise your family if you had one. Start anew.


    Yet they still chose to take the risk. For what? A world outside that would never accept them? What did they have back out there that was worth risking it all?


    But it didn''t mater in the end.


    Ronald was a cruel man. Giving people even a drop of hope when there was none. But he made no illusions. No one would stop them and no one would save them. That was made very clear.


    Lukas still sobbed, refusing to be picked up and taken away. Fat wet tears, like the melting snow that ran down the mountain tops in fresh streams and falls. Feeding life into the valley where it cut off the outside world.


    Unlike Gable, even as a fully grown adult with decades of sights, Lukas never looked away once. So Gable does not try to stop the tears. He would let the boy cry. Let him face the harsh truth of life that Lukas must have already known, too soon, too close.


    And be there to pick up where he fell.


    When the sobs and hiccups slow, more out of exhaustion than anything, Gable lights his walking staff. Make it bright enough that Lukas knows even from far behind that he''s coming.


    Carefully Gable makes to kneel, right over his little boy''s side.


    "Go on." Gable allows, so quietly it might as well have been in a whisper.


    Lukas was obviously tired. The outburst of snow and tears more exhausting than this entire hike. It''s with clumsy hands, mitten bound that Lukas finally reaches up. Still hiccuping as he grasps the handle along with his guardian.


    The supernatural light grows fat and round. Like a giant dandelion puff, Lukas takes a great painful breath, and blows. To humor him, Gable does too.


    Gentler than the snow that buried them, the light burns and wisps. Eating up the long-frozen and fallen. It scorches and cleans, a fire so unfeeling it burns white, tinged only at the tips in shining cool colors like those of the polar lights.


    As they watch and wait, Gable tries blowing the cold away from Lukas''s pink cheeks and shivering hands. Not with any magic but the old fashioned way. It somehow always works better.


    When the flames die out, there''s nothing left of the flesh nor bones. Any organic material wiped out, clean, and blown to the wind. What relics they do find, well Gable will hold on to them. Just till they can be returned back down the mountain. It wasn''t much. A crude ring. Someone''s broken watch. A painted stone with a drilled hole. Nothing valuable but for the sentiments.


    But maybe that''s all that was worth anything in the end.


    "Ready?" Gable asks to the shivering child in his arms, taking out a blanket.


    Lukas was so red from crying. Cold from the inside out that frost bit at his little cheeks and pale lashes like diamond bits. Sunlight fine hair peeking out from his oversized hat. He looked as miserable as he was pitiful and so beautifully alive.


    "No. I can keep going. There''s lots more like them, right? Still stuck in the dark? They must be very scared. Let''s go!!!" Lukas huffs, spirited in the way only the young and truly strong could be. Hardship forging them even stronger.


    Gable let''s out a light laugh, maybe in relief, maybe in something he can''t understand. Like how he never understood why he allowed someone like Ronald to stick around. Never understood his own reasons or rhyme.


    "Alright. But that''s enough for today." Gable comforted by patting his back, carrying a weaker than usual little boy.


    Like the very young, Lukas will overdo it. He''ll underestimate his weight and overuse his strengths. Like the idyllic heroes that don''t exist, Lukas will want to save them all.


    "But-" Lukas starts to argue, not feeling his own pain. Diamond dust still freckling under his glacier clear eyes.


    "Rest for now, we''ll keep looking. We''ll keep trying. I promise you."


    Something in Lukas must crack, ever so subtly, ever the right way. His little chest hiccups. Cries in softness as he burrows that too pink face into Gable''s chest, fresh tears melting the ice once more.


    They do not stay up there. In the silent air where the dead finally meet their peace. But if they did, if they were buried against a storm they had no way of fighting Gable was oddly comforted. That at least, they would have each other.


    But that is not how it goes, someone''s waiting for them. At the dinner table, with a warm bed, the next groggy messy day. A lot of someones.


    Two tracks of footsteps turn into one as Gable carries the little weight down. They''re all that''s left in the glaring white snow.

 132 Old times lane

    "My hair!" she sobs in her plain undergown, breaking yet another comb in the excuse of a guest room vanity. A shined piece of a shield acting as a mirror.


    But we can''t expect luxury out here.


    Those perfect ringlets of villainess worthy hair don''t take care of themselves. Afterall Rosalia must get her curls from somewhere. Genetically that is mother''s side, and thus grampa''s fault. His own head often military cut shorter than the supposedly fashionable longer lengths of men in this era, but still very obviously where mother gets her statuesque hair from.


    It''s all grampa''s fault.


    Normally there are maids and servants to see to mother''s every chore and whim, including hair care and getting ready in the morning. Without them carefully oil brushing and conditioning her locks into elaborate perfection, those curls bounce out in a way that''s reminiscent of a wild fern.


    Though that could just be from Lilyanne playing in it, making it poof even bushier in tangles and ropes. Yeah, three-year-olds aren''t the best assistant hairdressers.


    It''s much easier to be beautiful when you''re rich and have a salon crew right in your own house.


    I don''t really understand the big deal about her hair, but Lilyanne and I have mixed genes. Looser slightly more manageable curls, but at the great risk of those red undertones.


    More importantly, shouldn''t mother already be used to this? She''s spent time without the maids before, like that month-long solo dungeon exploration with father. That and it''s her own damn head.


    "Booo hoo hoo, now we shall never go out!" she sobs miserably as Lilyanne giggles, hiding in the bronze curly fern growing over my mother''s back.


    What a drama queen. At least she has hair. Hey mother, do you wanna match? I can assure you that going near military bald has no brushing issues.


    Underneath the wet pitiful cries of an overgrown drama queen, I hear the mournful whimpers that sound like "Fleas!", "Never again!", and "Oh my rose grown darling, with his petal silken splendor, it''s not fair!!"


    We''ll never visit the leprosarium at this rate. So thus I must step in. I feel myself sighing at the arm workout I''m about to do, readying my purse.


    "Mother? If I may suggest something."


    From the inside of my bag, I procure something that was not originally meant for human use. It''s...a brush!


    Yes, extra large and thick. In this world, people tend to use combs, especially decorative ones from carved wood and ivory bones. Noblewomen would have their servants dutifully brush and care for them from the scalp to the tips, perhaps for hours a day. While everyone else who has lives and need to work? Meh, put on a hat or bonnet and call it day.


    "Rosalia....is that a...horse brush?" mother accurately guesses from where I got the base material


    "Noooooo, of course not mother. It''s a ...detangling brush. Look at the exquisite handle. The flow and carve. Only the grandest ladies of good taste, not super muscular beasts that get fleas, can use it." I advertise, though a bit too personalized. Hopefully, it works.


    "...That''s what your father said...and it was a certainly a horse brush." she sobs.


    Ah. Well then.


    "Mother. With the strong wide teeth, it''s perfect to cure your curls back. Not like other disastrous fuzzy brushes or tight teeth combs. No one has to know. We must never brush it when wet, now try either my tester #3 or #7 hair oil." I pull out more products.


    "...what are the differences?" she takes the bait, sniffing away her frustrated tears.


    "Number 3 is an elixir of...almond and imported nut de coco! Coconut can penetrate your hair the way other oils can''t, nourishing it with antibacteri-eerr cleasning properties. Combined with the sweet smooth almond, how can you go wrong?" I advertise.


    "Hmmmm then what of the other one?" says the reasonable consumer.


    "But #7...is new from the old. Olive oil...but with fennel and lemon oil! Good for strengthening, also with anti-bacteria, but research says the essential lemon can, ahem,...highlight lighten your hair."


    "I''ll take both! How wonderful! Oh ho hoho~"


    "Great! Cash now or credit for later?"


    Selling products to only your mother feels like a joke, but I have a limited market and my production lines are more testers than anything. That and my servents too easily sell out and offer her portions of everything I make anyways.


    While I do wonder how Abbey is doing all by her lonesome back home, I am assured the stocks and inventory of all my experiments are being kept in order. Their upkeep still being seen to.


    Georgie however?


    I said would make him pay and so I did. Of course, all I did was mention, perhaps mournfully, to grampa how poor weak pathetic Georgie wanted to be a little stronger. Even for a mob character. That he wanted to be....a little closer to true "hero".


    Well no we''re in a military outpost in the middle of nowhere. Where there is nothing else to do but train, train, and train some more in this hard endurance-based terrain. He''ll be joining the recruits in their epic hero boot camp training.


    Grampa personally saw that he got in! No questions or troublesome qualifications needed. Oh ho ho ho.


    Have fun my soft little assistant, whom I have confiscated not only some familiar wax wrapped caramels from but all other forms of unessential luxuries. After all he won''t need them in grampa''s mountainside boot camp, they''ll just get dirty.


    It wasn''t hard, much easier than getting into a minion''s secret sweets stash. Not that these inconspicuously drugged sleepy caramels are actually edible but hey, could be useful one day.


    Go have lots and lots of fun Georgie!


    "Oh Rosalia, that''s my girl. So kind." mother smiles, still trying to wrestle her hair down.


    Bwahahaha, yes my kindness involves perfect petty revenge where I won''t get in any trouble at all. After all, it wasn''t even me but grampa that cleared the orders.


    As fun as imagining the pain and suffering my assistant must be going through, life is very inconvenient without more servents. No one to take care of Lilyanne or help brush the great mother''s hair. Huff huff brush!


    Untangle the tough knots. Separate the corkscrews. Oil up Lilyanne''s hands because she wants to help too despite more likely just making up a bigger mess.


    Who needs arm training? This is my workout of the week! Mother, why do you have so much hair?


    "Oh my." mother giggles, acting as if she''s the one doing us a great favor by allowing us to slave away at the brush.


    Or well just me. If it weren''t for the oil I think Lilyanne would be making things even worse. No no no bad Lily, don''t tie them up further.


    Such natural curls are troublesome. I can''t believe now how much time as an adult I would spend on the curling iron. Not now I have these genetics, though it''s not to mother''s extent. Sheesh, the grass always does look greener on the other side. I miss my boring but easy straight hair already.


    Eventually, mother takes over the daunting task, a great mercy on my poor little arms.


    "There there Rosalia, you tried. Mama is very thankful." she smiles.


    "My methods are effective! It''s just, my arms...." I take a great breather.


    They''re so little! I can''t even reach all this. It requires too much effort and forcer per calorie my squishy little muscles must exert. Like tiny t-rex arms, too short to be of any use. Absolutely useless.


    I can''t even do something as simple as brushing my mother''s hair, how am I ever going to survive this world on my own?


    "There there my Rosa, you did soooooo much. Don''t be sad. Lookie, you can brush this little part right here." mother offers me a few long strands.


    What do I look like? A real little toddler upset over nothing? Lilyanne? Perhaps in mother''s very broken rose-colored vision that''s exactly what I am.


    I sigh, rolling away in defeat.


    Eventually, mother manages to get ready all on her own. Two tightly woven farmgirl braids, tied and pinned up in a modest updo with ribbons. Topped off with a silky scarf-like veil under her sun hat. Said modesty is further themed with a plain very out of date gothic medieval dress and even duller outer robes. Dear god, we are cosplaying poor people today!


    Well, at least it''s comfortable. More importantly, safe and appropriate for where we shall be visiting today.


    Inside the village of the leprosarium.


    No one cares how the children are dressed, but this isn''t the place to show off. Safety first. With my help, we get Lilyanne, and I suppose myself, into little white frocks, caplets and bonnets. Very easy to get dirty and we''ll stand out like little mochi sheep, but I suppose that''s the point.


    "Alright! Let''s go already." I feel myself getting impatient, tapping at my mother to hurry.


    I should have toured the colony village days ago. What are we doing wasting all this time, I would like to ask. But alas I am not the big boss around here. I must follow not only the procedures of the staff here, but the whims of my mother and grampa.


    Today is finally the day an official tour can be taken. Preparations organized on all sides with safety assured, even for visiting little children. I''m as terrified as I am excited.


    By now taking the wagon tram across the other side is a pretty familiar practice. Made even easier as all passing soldiers and officers salute themselves out our way. Some of going so far to bow, perhaps in shaking fear, while shouting our her hails, as mother carries us through.


    Well, that''s nothing new.


    On the other side, grampa is already there getting things ready ahead of time. He greets us, not at the nature grown fork that leads to the orchards, but in front of the actual front buildings. Yes! We''re getting in!


    "Now then! Do we all remember the ground rules? Hmmm? Rosalia?" grampa stands with both the hands on his hips.


    I have no idea why he''s targetting me, but I shall comply if only to get this over with faster.


    "No wandering. No straying for you or mama. No touching anything. Definitely no licking anything. Stay within the cleared pathways and zones, no barrier-breaking. Do not bother anyone. Be polite. No gawking at anyone or asking rude questions, at least not for now. No-"


    "Great job memorizing pumpkin, now show me those results and have fun! Oh and definitely no licking. "


    I would hope not.


    It''s a very difficult thing explaining to anyone that the world is made up of super tiny atoms, and that some diseases are caused by these tiny living organisms called bacteria. Hate to say it but my best bet is the crazy old man.


    The problem is that he doesn''t actually get it either!


    He liked the concept of a period table just fine. Got all the more excited, and confusing, when on the topic of atoms. "The indivisibles!" he called them and even kept me up past bedtime on the chalkboard. He''s really stuck on the concept of protons and electrons for some odd reason.


    But biology? Germ theory or the evolution of bacteria? Cell structure?


    Yeah, he gave me a look that clearly showed he thought I was the crazy one.


    So either grampa was never privileged with modern education or he comes from an entirely different world, which honestly should be the case given how insane he is. No wonder medicine isn''t one of the fields that really progressed under the influence of the great hero.


    That lacking was why something like Lilyanne''s healing magic was so revered.


    Grampa has conceded to me on the topic of face masks though! Disease possibly spreading through air and by breath. They already have evidence of that much.


    Now that I''m here though... the problem with that point is that they''re bird masks? I''m sorry. Are some of the workers here wearing black plague masks?


    The stupid things that didn''t actually work the way people thought?


    "Rosalia? What did papa just warn you about." mother scolds me already.


    "...Keep my comments to myself until later." I recite.


    That would be for the best.


    No having a toddler supernaturally point out everything right and wrong with the way things are being run. If even grampa gave me the look like I''m alien talking nonsense, with the rest of the population I''ll only be lucky to be burned at the stake.


    Alright. Staying good and no talking out loud. Or at least close enough to grampa that no one will blame me too much.


    The halls to the stone and concrete-like administrative buildings are as sanitary as they can be given this world''s standards. Boiling water is regarded as better housekeeping than plain for scrubbing or mopping. Mints and herbs are used as deodorizers, and even without my soaps, a solution of lye mix is already used as a cleaning agent.


    The floors and walls are hard, but flat and easy to clean. In the area closest to the tunnel tram, no one wears any extra safety gear. The troop members look just about the same as on the other side, or anywhere. However the further in we go the more people wear extra leather coverings, boots, gloves and more of those strange bird masks.


    Beyond the deepest buildings lay more reinforced gates, along with a barrier outpost by large slightly glowing stones. It appears to be a gray zone. Perhaps for disinfection and inspection as certified people come and go.


    So it surprises me when the gates all proceed to open too easily with grampa leaning the way.


    "Do we have to wear those too?" I can''t help but ask.


    I don''t think they make plague beak masks in my size?


    "Wait for it~" grampa hushes me with a grin, face rugged from the lack of a shave recently.


    As the gate slowly creak themselves open, clearing a straight path, the barriers a glows in something thin. I''m most impressed by how it can produce such a strange sound, getting louder and louder. It sounds like a cute but annoying little boy''s squeaky voice.


    "Here here here! We''re here! No leaving without the awesome us, we''re here!"


    I should not be surprised that not only is Lukas here, somehow shaking snow off himself, but he''s brought an entire loaded sleigh sliding with him from wherever he came from. Seriously what the hell?


    More importantly, from out behind the sleigh''s driver seat, a magnificent heavenly fairy sits. He looks like the beauty of death. Tumbling pale blonde hair, grumpy parenting eyes of distinguished silver, nose, cheeks, and ears stunningly flushed pink at all the right places. He pulls off his scarf to expose the pale graceful length of his neck, adam''s apple pronounced as he alluringly sighs.


    Oh my. Oh my blessed eyes. To see Gable in any capacity instantly soothes the soul, the mind. This sight alone could cure the blind!


    "You look hot."


    Grampa said that. Not me. No one can get mad at me for blurting out stupid things when grampa is here.


    "There''s a slight pressure but drastic temperature change from here to the summits yes," Gable blessedly does not misunderstand, further shedding another layer.


    "You too Lukaspatootus, let''s get you out there before you melt into a puddle! Told you that you overdressed him. It''s the middle of summer!" grampa grapples with a giant pillow that jumped to smother my mother.


    "You cannot underestimate the elements Ron, especially that high. And you know how easily I burned then, do you sincerely think Lukas is any different?"


    Oh wait no that''s just Lukas, bundles up like a tiny puft marshmallow man. At least he''s well protected against mother''s crushing hugs like that.


    Three layers of puff and fluff undressing later, Lukas is as ready as he''ll ever be. Face a tad pink in an awkward shape I guess we can call a fresh and modest sunburn. Looking a bit like a strawberry shortcake popsicle there, though albeit more painful.


    "Owie?" Lilyanne pokes at the older boy in the face.


    Oh no. Oh no no no. No hunting or poaching hearts so early you cute little protagonist. I forbid it. I, Rosalia, your villainy big sister, absolutely forbids it.


    "Nope! I''m too awesome for owies." states Lukas, no shame in his demeanor.


    I should be assured of the original plotlines and routes...but I just don''t trust Lilyanne for that very reason. How many hearts must she conquer? This little mob however is such a wall of soft pinchable mochi and denseness that none of Lilyanne''s reverse harem gathering charms work at all. Thank goodness.


    "Lukas, do you really think you''re stronger than the sun? The sun!" I inspect his skin.


    Meh, he''ll live. Kids. We''ll give him a milk bath and use tester cream number 8 on him later.


    In the time it takes to try convincing Lukas that no, no he is not stronger than the sun''s rays or that ''awesomeness'' has no correlation to ''owies'', we''ve somehow already walked across the line of gates.


    Between each gate a magical barrier activates, blowing a protective shield all around us. Once again it''s similar to something I''ve seen before at the main troop''s camp. The snowglobe. Bubble layers have blown around us, encasing us in a dome casing snowglobe that moves as we walk.


    "There will be no touching the barriers now. Or leaving them. Am I understood? Children?" Gable instructs, taking the lead.


    Why does everyone always seem to pay attention to me on these matters?


    I mutely nod along with Lukas and Lilyanne, because I swear I have recited the same lines over and over again. And what''s the point of reminding me to keep close when there''s already another barrier to prevents me from getting far? The amount of trust I get.


    "Thank you Gabbey~" mother says in a coquettish voice, pawing up at Gable.


    How dare she, but at the same time, against the overwhelming beauty that is Gable, how can she not? Well too bad mother. You already a married woman with your weird nerd, and now you have to settle for him. Settle!


    Wonder what father is up to these days without anyone keeping an eye on him? A nagging feeling tells me it''s not just being buried in desk work. Well, at least there''s always Alfonso.


    "Of course Maria. Buttercup dear, I hope you''ll be a ....good...example for the children." Gable smiles, and oh be still my heart.


    "Yes Gabbey." mother deflates to grampa''s laughter in the background.


    Despite the noise and commotion, we make walking into the village, no one seems to regard us. Not the now covered guards who normally salute, not the masked workers, and certainly not...the villagers.


    There are so many of them. Going about their day as if in any other town or village. They walk with goods or mingle by the water pump. In this section, many of them interact freely with the masked workers, like it were a bank or communuty center. Exchanging credits, settling accounts or picking up their orders.


    The weavers spinning their thread and making cloth. Potters rolling their clay. Old men peacefully chatting over morning games while small children play tag.


    It''s almost like anywhere else.


    "Waaah!" Lilyanne exclaims, fearfully running up to mother, demanding to be held.


    She''s been taught and warned not to make a fuss, but the sight still shakes her up. Recoil naturally if not out of instinctual fear and disgust.


    So many of them are disfigured. Telltale signs of the disease already eating away at their bodies. Inside the colony, no one wears dark sanctions robes or hide as they do on the other side of these walls. In the outside world.


    Here there is no judgment since they all share the same fate.


    The old men that sit enjoying the summer sun have cloudy eyes, most likely already blind, faces and limbs in a mix match of disfigured shapes. A mature woman passing by with a basket of bread dough, most likely to the communal bakery, is missing a nose and an arm. A running errand boy, healthy with all four limbs is covered in various shades of polka dots and discolored chunks of his skin.


    Lilyanne has been warned repeatedly before this. Not to say it. But her whimpers and little cries still escape from mother''s hold.


    "Scary monsters."


    Is she wrong? Is this not how the rest of the world sees it? That''s why they''re isolated in the first place. From here to every leper''s colony across the lands. They''re where we leave the ill and undesirables.


    No one wants to see this. No one wants to live with such fear and ugliness. So it''s better to just..not look. Throw them away and not look.


    "Weeeeak, stupid stinky baby! We already beat all the monsters here and the ones outside go to make bacon! Or salami and sausages and jerky. Lots of jerky. " Lukas laughs, seemingly breaking the awkward mood with his chatter.


    "Alright, that''s enough out of you." Gable shakes his head good-naturedly, sharing a strange look with a smirking grampa. When he moves to take the lead, the bubble dome follows, sliding along our every step.


    No one seems to notice or care about our appearance. If a passing by villager brushes by, we avoid them but otherwise, they seem to not even regard us.


    Under the bubble, no one can see us. That''s what Gable''s doing. Providing a cover and shelter.


    Like this, we can see the village uninterrupted. As it would be on any other day, how it operates, lives, and breathes.


    It''s still breathing. All the people here are still breathing, doing their best to live with what they can.


    They line the paved streets and well built buildings in various stages of health. Some are missing both their legs, so they can''t walk. Amputations are more common than not around here. Fingers. Toes. Whole parts pieces of something missing. Many are covered in bandages and wrappings, treating as well as preventing their open sores and infections. The ones are that open-color green and yellow dry healing crusts, gruesome to uphold.


    The strangest thing that baffles me however is the polka dots.


    Everything else is textbook. While real-life if a lot more shocking than seen in an internet video or a medical book, they''re all symptoms I''m mentally prepared for. The skin lesions, the easy to be infected wounds, and nerve damage that swells and forces amputation. Even blindness. All checkmarks on the list.


    But I''ve never heard of the bumps. These polka dot raised bumps that line people''s skin.


    Some wrap around all their exposed skin while others are more neat lines and bars. They look like patches of bubble wrap, and I recall the same pattern on the healer mother. Multa Melitta.


    I get my tour, obvious distractions aside. I get to see how roads organize and wrap in pavement and stone. How water funnels through shaped clay baked titled pipes, metal pumps feeding wells underground. How spread out space is, making things perhaps a little more difficult to traverse but open and breathable.


    These are the things we should be looking at. What we can change, what we can actually do. Not gawking at everyone.


    But it''s hard not to.


    It''s a good thing they can''t see or hear us. Maybe that''s the whole point of this barrier. To spare the people from the stares of dumb little children.


    I''m not surprised at the adults'' calmness. One of them built this place while the other is Gable of all people. Even mother, while occasionally marveling at something, doesn''t seem phased at all. But then again, I can easily infer she''s been here before. Perhaps many times in the past.


    They speak of things like how this building was replaced, what used to be in that plot of land, and even strange stories I have no knowledge.


    "Aaaaaaah remember you slide down the pipes and completely tainted the water supply baby girl? And we had to come up with extra filters and carry jugs from the falls! h that time you got your butt stuck in a jug and had to walk like a hermit crab! Ahhhh good times." grampa points out randomly.


    "....Papa...do never bring that up again." mother seems to be getting tired. Weakening further and further as the tour goes on, though that could just be from listening to grampa talk.


    "Or that time you let a stampede of buckaroo deer through the gates?! Now they''re living happily in the crater forest. Mmmm deer jerky. Such cute jerky. Or-" grampa considers.


    "Papa! Gabbey oh please stop him! I promise to be good, I haven''t broken a single thing all week, not even a teacup, please just stop him. " she begs for mercy.


    "What are you talking about baby girl? There were two casualties in that tunnel expansion, which is ahead of schedule by 3 months! Thanks Maria,~ you didn''t have but you were such a help! But that''s broken bones! Ahaha that will teach them to sneak around restricted zones, ah though I can''t blame them too much. Youth. Ahhhh." grampa does not know the definition of mercy.


    "There were what?! No no no I just wanted to finish up and that inspection you made me do was sooooo long. I didn''t know they were there! Boo hoo..." mother panics.


    I admit they make a better kind of distraction.


    All Gable does is pinch his temple and move on, pulling along Lukas by the hand. A wise choice, ignoring them.


    Eventually, this touristy little wander ends up at a large building, of about four stories. It''s room, with a lot of open space and even a pretty courtyard. Judging from the type of people that linger outside and about, it appears to be a sort of medical or rehabilitation center. Not urgent, but meant for long term healing.


    I am well versed in the signs, the walkers and bars across. Equipment in physical therapy. I know these sorts of things far too well.


    We pass by the rehab courtyard and a section of smelly pools used as therapeutic baths. The sights familiar but not, not in this world. Not as Rosalia.


    We continue on past waiting rooms and restrictive areas, where patients are being treated. Lilyanne huddling in mother''s arms the whole time, while I peer nervously. Lukas asking occasional questions like what are the needles are for and why people are getting them shot into their skin.


    It''s the ultimate invasion of privacy.


    "All done, now that wasn''t so bad. See you in three weeks." speaks a woman dressed like a nun, patching up a boy of around 13 after a shot.


    The bumps. They''re from the shots. I understand now, each and every bump is from an injection shot that doesn''t really go away.


    It''s multa Melitta under that nun''s veil. Her disfigured face is on full display but it''s also her voice I recognize. The patient grimaces but nods, quickly running off when he was cleared. SO quickly he doesn''t notice how his limp hand smack the doorway.


    He can''t feel his arm.


    It''s too familiar. This place is too familiar. These people are too familiar.


    For a moment it''s not a stranger the escapes out of here. His straw like hair turns darker, straighter. These foreign features they call normal blur, smooth and ivory pale, features morphing. I can almost hear him telling me he was off, almost feel how he rolls his eyes and laughs.


    But Heng-Fei can''t walk, can''t run. Not anymore. Definitely not at that age.


    He was only 17 last I can recall. We were living together again, his legal guardian was only me. He was only 17 when I died.


    A curtain closes over the door. A curtain has closed over that part of my life, my existence.


    "Well now, you''re right on time. Were things to your satisfaction?" multa Melitta turns to address us as a group.


    When she looks straight ahead, I can see one of her eyes has already discolored pale. A cloudy cataract blinding her sight.


    We could have fixed that. In modern times we could remove and replace that cataract so easily. We have anti-biotics and do so much more.


    But we were far from advanced either.


    Who knows? Maybe there''s another alien out there, looking in and laughing at how deplorable the state of the earth is. My earth. My terrible capitalist fueled overworked hell on earth. Where my brother lives. Where my brother, my co-workers, my damn manager, all my stupid friends, the Parks...where they all still live.


    Without me.


    "Well enough. I see they raising another barn out in the skirts." grampa replies, tapping through Gable''s barrier.


    I can see it fall back, just a layer, and a shine of focus in multa Melitta''s one working eye.


    "Exciting times. Oh, we all do love a good barn raising." multa Melitta plays nice if a little senile. The wrinkled lines on her face hidden by the raised bumps of treatment. She''s much older than she sounds.


    "Oh my, now would you look at this little berry. My my my you have the blood of the North in you, no worries now. I''m sure you''ll grow to be a fine beauty still. Your big sister got in far many more bends than that and look how she turned out. " she bends down, bones breaking, to giggle and gesture at Lukas''s little pink face.


    Without making any contact, a wave of pulses seems to radiate out of her lumpy hand. Slowly the shades of Lukas mild sunburn cools back into his usual pale. Soft and smooth as freshly pounded rice mochi.


    It''s not surprising she''s a healer, with rare magic even, though much weaker than Lilyanne. But to be living all the way out here, and in her condition?


    The world is limiting, there is sense and order even in magic. No, especially in magic. There are things that simply can''t be done.


    "OH! Thanks a bunch!" Lukas pats at his little face, showing it off to Gable. Who not only grimaces but turns up to the multa.


    "He''s...a boy." Gable says plainly.


    "Oh? Oh I got it wrong again? Well still good! He has too much of your face. Has it been twenty years since I did this? Why do you always raise them up switched like that? How is anyone supposed to tell?" the half blind woman chuckles.


    Well now. That''s a clear sign that Lukas needs a hair cut. Preferably bald. Let''s match?


    "What are they needles for! What''s in them?! Do they fill you with armor?" Lukas interrupts, his mouth shooting off for me.


    Asking questions I probably shouldn''t myself but still want to hear.


    Luckily, the multa doesn''t shy away at all, though her appearance causes Lilyanne to cower more in mother''s arms. At least she no longer cries.


    "Why it is a type of armor yes. It''s made of the orchard nuts, but eating them is fatal. This is the only way to administer them and it arms people against this disease. Such a bright child! Oh Ronald, I really like how you made this one. " the old woman caters to his question.


    "I wasn''t made, I''m a Lukas. Aha so the bumpers are armor pieces, I knew it! Gable can I has armor to fight under my skin? So I can go beat the sun because Rosa says I can''t fight the sun."


    "Absolutely not." Gable doesn''t even hesitate.


    Oil. They can only inject them since ingesting it is not an option. Oil doesn''t dissolve well, but it needs to run through the circulatory system to work.


    That''s why the injection shots can''t really heal right, forming painful-looking boils. Even if someone heals the wound or skin on the outside, relieving some pain, it will still bubble underneath. Even if we heal them with magic, the living pathogens for the disease is still there.


    This is what I can make sense of.


    But nothing more. I''m not that smart. I don''t know what else there I can pitch in here.


    "Awww! Watch Rosa, I''mma go do it even without armors just cause." Lukas keeps interrupting my thought.


    Kids think they can do anything. It''s a little nice how hopeful they are.


    "Yeah. Yeah sure, go fight the sun if you can. " I answer him. Then look up to regard multa Melitta, smiling down on us like a kind kindergarten teacher.


    "Does it hurt?" I ask, despite knowing it must.


    "A little. But that''s a good thing, that we can still feel it. Shame we can''t just turn these sensations on and off so easily as you or your father, little one." she answers calmly, before regarding me with a little lost look.


    That''s because I''m the one who looks lost.


    "What? Turn on and off what? "I ask, unable to control my rudeness, despite mother rushing up , picking me up and holding me tight.


    "Rosalia, " she warns against my question.


    "Oh my. Looks like it''s a little too early for that one to start training. Forgive me, I couldn''t feel a lick of magical veins form her despite the other''s being so strong. I just assumed she took after-" multa Melitta draws back, overly apologetic.


    No. She said it on purpose. She knows something I don''t. This woman is much older and layer than she looks.


    "You thought wrong. Frederick and I are not raising her like that. We would never." mother bundles me away, covering my ears and eyes.


    As if that could undo what I just learned.


    "What is it? What do I take after? What can I turn on and off?" a clawing feeling starts rising up in me. That kind of desperate anxiety when something escapes me out of my control.


    "Rosalia!" mother warns, her voice final.


    "Mother what is she talking about? Mother...won''t you answer me?" I turn back, feeling unwell.


    When I don''t feel well my face takes a neutral expression, professional. As if to control all the things I can''t. It''s always helped me in the workforce but I know it''s not the sort of face a child should make. Off. Wrong.


    "I''m looking to build a new project. " grampa takes over, still smiling like nothing''s wrong. Nothing was ever wrong.


    It leaves enough space for mother to hush me, now being not the time. But the tea has been spilled. I have another lead I can''t let go of now.


    "Wonderful! Another celler? Something bigger? Well, space is limited and we could always-" multa Melitta jumps over the topic before grampa interrupts again.


    "But will you live long and well enough to carry it out?" he says casually.


    "Yes. If the gods are merciful." her expression doesn''t change despite the underlying threat.


    "They usually aren''t." grampa pulls out a strange package, tube-shaped and messily bound in melted wax, tossing it over.


    "Whatever it is Ronald, it shall be done, with or without me." she smiles the kind of smile I''ve only seen in the hospitals terminally ill. The kind of grim peace that only one who accepts death around the corner.


    "It would. But it would be easier for everyone this way." grampa points down at the parcel, information for later. "Construction begins after we leave, I want the setup and production to be first priority. It will even help out your concerns about lasting through the coming winter. "


    "But?" multa Melitta apparently knows how grampa operates far too well.


    "Your body will fail before then you old crone, and unfortunately you''re the best candidate to watch over this zone by leagues. " Gable steps in.


    "Oh I am so honored. You know little ones, when your Gable here was a wee pristine cherub, you could never get one nice thing out of him. Not until that meteor storm and young Ronald came crashing along."


    "Aaaahhh good times, you hid me down the well and I had to cling on. I was so weak back then haha," grampa sighs,


    "Oh I never liked that side of that old castle anyways. Good riddance. And you were so adorable, I still remember how you wore nothing but the slain pelt of a 4th grade battle boar. The skull kept slipping off your tiny head." she told.


    "Ahem. The tasks on hand?" Gable interrupts by coughing, ending that particular trip down memory lane.


    Thank goodness for Gable but uh, hey I wanted to hear that story too, errr I mean gather information. Mental note to track down multa Melitta for some interviews if I ever get the chance to escape alone.


    After all, it''s clear enough none tells me anything. Ever. In any lifetime. Can''t be blamed if I have to go hunt for it outside.


    "Gable''s right," grampa sighs, sounding too exasperated for speaking the truth.


    Without any fear or regard, he takes multa Melitta''s damaged hands into his own, imploringly through his request sounds as straightforward as any orders.


    "Gather up your cabinet, medical team, and the patients who have been through treatment the longest, in the platform in the town square. Throw in a few choice citizens as you wish. Don''t tell them a thing. We''ll be performing one last miracle." he winks


    "...how wonderful...everyone will be so...happy. You never offered such generosity..." the old woman sounds conflicted.


    "You shall stand right-center Melitta. I know how you feel, how you turn down any special treatment, not until we can find a better cure. But you can''t lead anyone further if your dead body is burning in a pit! I''m going to need you for as long as you''ll all put up with me. Hold on for me won''t you old girl?" grampa comforts.


    Wow. What a charmer.


    Unfortunately, grampa seems to be just multa Melitta''s type, for she caves. Simply wilts and whimper feebly into his thick arms. She wipes away the tears that still cry through both eyes and resolutely nods.


    "Great! Put that away and call in the bells, there''s some fun to be had." grampa hugs her as if she were a normal old woman, and she weeps silently for but a breath more.


    "And time." Gable pulls them apart. Hitting grampa with a few rounds of fire and spells for disinfection.


    Or just hitting him more for the sake of it. That''s fair.


    We''re brought to a rest area somewhere underground after multa Melitta steps out to shout her orders. A welcome break especially with children.


    My own mother sits us down silently. Cleans our hands and hands us juices. Going through the motions as if she doesn''t know which of her children she needs to address first. Who needs her more.


    A still scarred and nervous Lilyanne, doing her best to not cry. Or me, still silent and biting my lip from the information I''ve only begun to learn.


    The answer should be obvious. I''ve never needed her.


    "Oh Rosalia, we were going to tell you....about something... when you were older. " mother uselessly chooses wrong. Her comforts wasted on me.


    "No, you wouldn''t have. " I state simply, feeling nothing. Not bitter, not mad, though that seems to be easier. I don''t really feel anything at all, except for this hollow.


    Because I know the truth. I have a whole lifetime of the truth behind me.


    So I ignore it easily when mother gives me her confused look. She doesn''t know how she never told me. Or how she dies.


    The bubble glows back up over us, Gable holding Lilyanne as he has us follow along. I do not fight it as the woman who calls herself my mother takes me back in her arms. After we leave this room, we''re to stay close and hidden altogether.


    All but for grampa.


    We''re no longer alone. The informed residents who work this place bow before him. They give humble thanks for absolutely nothing and stare with awe long after he passes.


    He already stands out normally but now? He walks unprotected and undisguised along the underground hall. There''s no need for introductions or identifications, everyone knows who he is. They don''t dare step in his way but can''t seem to remove themselves entirely either. As if trying to glance at him a moment more.


    The tunnel leads to an airy open stone room. I can hear bustling noises from above while the ceiling takes many carved shapes like a square. There are stairs and platforms leading up. Up to the surface.


    Before grampa steps up, he turns and smiles, holding out his hands.


    "Can take the girls for a quick moment?" he actually asks this time.


    While Gable easily hands over Lilyanne, mother seems to hesitate with me. Her arms tightening around my torso.


    "I don''t think Rosalia is feeling all too well," mother tries, stepping back.


    "Well...what does she want to do about that?" grampa speaks with a strange tone in his voice, low and oddly surrounding my senses.


    I hold out my arms uselessly, indicating permission and allowing him to take me with his free arm.


    "Did you have fun?"


    That voice.


    "Grampapa it so many, and Lily was good. Not a dumb stinky baby, pffft. Lily no cries at awll at all the scaries. Lots of owies, so it all scarwies and sad. Lily sads now. " my sister starts babbling, a spoiled little girl in her grandfather''s arms.


    "Ahhh, so we''re learning things the hard scary way. Aren''t we?" he responds, softer than he usually does.


    "Yes! Mama say no monsters, and that when Lily cries it makes everyone sads. No one wants to be scary monsters with owies. Lots of sads. " that little girl slowly absorbs, learning through more exposure than she''s ever had.


    "It does! Because the world is very big and full. It sometimes looks a lot different than how we think of it before. Doesn''t it Rosalia?" grampa turns his attention towards me.


    Like it''s all a test he''s teasing me with.


    "You knew?"


    I want to stay silent. Really now. But my mouth seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.


    "And you didn''t. Isn''t it interesting how much we miss one time around? " grampa hums.


    "Why? Why couldn''t you just tell me, why couldn''t you all just..."


    I don''t even know what it is I want to say, or ask. Too many thoughts and tangents spill in my head.


    "I can''t answer for what I don''t know, didn''t live. I can''t tell you one best way to proceed. Your new unknown is going to be as scary as it''s what you need." he pats.


    "Scary!" Lilyanne repeats, blessedly not understanding a thing.


    "I don''t even know what''s all going on," I admit. That numb pooling into something blue, a body of water I have already long drowned under.


    Grampa laughs, cradling us with a bounce at each stair step.


    "Tell me about it! I never know anything. Tell me all the things you don''t know, are finally willing to say, and only then can we do anything about it. Well, all in due time of course. No one is hurrying my cute grandbabies to grow up, or I''ll beat them up." he says, breathe light.


    At a certain stone platform, he sets both my twin and I down, squishing our little arms in goodbye waves. I''m certain that somehow both Lilyanne and I are walking away with entirely different conversations from this.


    What a crazy old man.


    "When the ceiling lights up, just push as you normally do." he instructs.


    "But...Lilyanne can''t heal like this? Definitely not in masses, it''s too weak and gets lost. Even when she was at her strongest." I look around, seeing nothing but stone.


    I''ve told grampa before about the miracles Lilyanne has performed, as well as her limits. Like a delicate piece of art, she does best when she can give a single subject her full attention. It was clear in my memory how her healing abilities on a wide range or battlefield situation was more psychological than anything. The more subjects, the weaker the effect.


    My sister, still only three years old, gives me a question blank head tilts while grampa laughs it off, rubbing our bonnets practically off.


    "Grampapa knows! Gable and I got something set up to help with that. Just for today," he winks those big brown cow eyes disgustingly.


    Who do I look like? An old multa woman? Take that nasty fake charm elsewhere.


    To which he does, blowing gross kisses to Lilyanne''s happy giggles and hopping up and away. Past trap doors and platforms up out of sight.


    The roar of the crowds above is deafening, even through stone walls. It''s like being backstage at some concert. Down below Gable has my mother and Lukas moved to a different area. My mother''s overly worried eyes on us the whole time, even as Lukas clings to her skirts and comforts her with his standard babble.


    When the world above goes into an agitated silence, I somehow catch bits and pieces of grampa''s voice. Tunneling through this underground passageway.


    "My good people..."


    It''s still too far though, too thick. I strain my ears, my senses to hear more.


    "...over 50 dead recovered....bodies burnt. Their possessions up for identification.... I cannot say I''m sorry for your losses. Laws are not always correct but I do not offer false promises or hopes-"


    "Rosa scawies?" Lilyanne clamps my hand, breaking my concentration.


    "No Lily...actually yes. But we''ll just take it a day at a time. Alright?" I sigh.


    "Okay dokey! Rosa need poopies? Lily tell mama and Gabgab you gotta goes?" she asks at my scrunched up face, still trying to listen in for more.


    "...Maybe later Lily, now stay real quiet and get ready!"


    "Okay dokey!"


    Focusing again, I can almost see in my mind''s eye grampa''s poster hero speech. Serious in some parts. Lively in others. I wonder what he can say to further his own press and agenda, that dangerous fool. Pretending never to know a thing.


    I guess I can kinda relate.


    "This is not a cure. This is none. This is a thank you as you will all still most likely die here. Absolutely!"


    Nevermind. He''s insane.


    It''s a good thing this man was never a politician let alone a king. He would run a country into the ground, and use the remaining pit as his wine celler. Yep.


    Somehow the people of the masses seemed to love him.


    Even now, judging from the fact the crowd hasn''t erupted into boos and tears, it''s still going too well. Sheesh. I''ll never understand Public Relations or sociology, despite all my experience. Maybe everyone''s brain-damaged?


    I wonder where the brain-damaged minion is right now? Still with Damia? I''ll beat him up if he comes back even more brain-damaged. Maybe Vincent too? I could use the kiddy help to reign Lukas AND Lilyanne in. Oh and secret stash sweets that aren''t poisoned.


    "Once again, and all the agains that will never be enough. Thank you for surviving." the old man''s voice barely breaks through the echoes.


    My distracted scattered thoughts end not from another odd shake or question of Lilyanne''s but the warm glow of the ceiling lighting up. Overly complicated transmutation circles begin shining out, overlapping one another, and the signal has been received.


    With one last reassuring look down at Gable and mother, Lukas excitedly pointing up at the display, we get to work.


    No need for focus or finesse, not just yet. For now, grampa''s got this. So Lilyanne, give it all you got. Aaaaand zap!


    I can''t say it''s too exciting to just be pulling off the usual routine. But the thunderous sounds from above, the miracle that must be going on the surface, means it must be a real sight.


    Grampa''s right. This isn''t a cure, the disease still active inside them even if their sight is restored or their wounds healed like how it was before. By law, these people will all die enclosed with the walls of the leprosarium. Never to escape or return back where they came from.


    We''re all just doing our best to survive.


    I don''t think the truth is all that bad of a message, though grampa could have most certainly worded it better.


    The sounds don''t die out but the impromptu ceremony must end eventually. Lilyanne tiring out faster despite her stamina practice, perhaps after all her work on the tree and orchards outside. She is after all only a small child.


    "zap zap zap Lily do zaps." she hugs the platform rock with a very funny sort of expression.


    Ah kids are hilarious when they''re serious.


    The ceiling lights cut out with a wave from Gable. His nod indicating that it was over. As soon as he does, Mother rushes up the stairs to pick us up even before I can get Lilyanne to stop pushing magic blindly.


    How did she get up here so fast? While baffled, I can only think this to myself already swept up inside her arms. That''s too fast?


    The roaring of a cheering and delighted population resounds throughout the space until the trap door closes shut once more.


    Grampa walks down the upper steps, sweatdropping as he escorts multa Melitta. Not fully healed but looking...better.


    She looks older when her face isn''t so bumpy or swollen, the wrinkles finally more pronounced. Her fingers are still missing on her outstretched hand, and there are pox like scars across her skin. But it''s better, less painful. Both of her eyes shining teary but clear, sight restored.


    Relief is a type of progress.


    "Thank you. For everything." the old restrengthened woman bows low.


    When she gets up, she presents each of the adults in our party but a single plump peach. It doesn''t look like much, but hey aren''t those....


    "Oh Multa Melitta! We couldn''t!" mother tries to turn the gift away.


    Five years stored in a single fruit, one single tree that can only produce so many. If diluted and used as a medicine, it could only go so far. To eat a whole fruit is a luxury, and selfishness, that is hard to afford. I can''t even imagine the price if I sold one of these on the black market?


    "You''re actually old enough to have one now. Take it, perhaps to share with your...darling? You could do it like those two..." the old woman giggles, pushing back the peach.


    "Oh these old tales," mother blushes, putting away the peach.


    "Well, I know we save them for research but...it has been a good 20 or so years since we had a fresh taste." grampa already splits one in half, grinning as he presents one side in front of Gable''s nose.


    Grey eyes roll before the man himself shrugs.


    "I suppose if it''s only half... " he relents, taking the split fruit. Even putting up with grampa clicking the half peaches like they were champagne glasses.


    "To another 20 more?" grampa bites the wrong slice, grossly eating out of Gable''s hand.


    "I regret everything already, " Gable swipes and switches fruits, but he smiles lightly before taking his own bite. Following up, "...yeah sure. Already don''t have much of a choice. "


    "Whatever makes you feel better about yourself Gabe." grampa licks at the remaining juice.


    What a lovely scene. Such a weird friendship. I''m getting hungry just watching.


    A dangerous thought but I do wonder what such juicy a treasure tastes like.


    "It''s alright. Bacon is better." Lukas chews.


    "Well of course you think bacon is better, you''re...wait what?! What are you eating!?!" I scream bloody murder.


    It''s like the countdown before a bomb detonates. Shock. Stillness.Slow-motion, grampa already jumping into action, taking away the cursed stolen fruit in Lukas''s hand as Gable silently screams, eyes promising a certain kiddy a painful death, or maybe just a very intense grounding.


    "Ah just like old times." multa Melitta laughs.


    "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! OW OW OW BACON MUCH BETTER AAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!"

 133 Wobbly baby steps

    Not because he''s sick or anything. No, the backlash of treasured, seriously do not eat, food poisoning all mostly better after a week of careful rest. Mostly. There are some...permanent side effects. But nothing to do with his voice or anything. He''s just feeling very... down, oh ho ho.


    That bedrest grounding time did force us to spend even longer trapped in a very honestly boring military outpost.


    Nothing much to do there, especially for so long as mother and grampa were apparently busy getting pulled away. Nothing for me to do other than sneaking out and grilling my own yakitori skewers. I sold them for a pretty penny and got all the free labor from hungry desperate soldiers.


    Ah, poor things. To be so crazy over plain at wild onion and meat skewers....


    Really glad to be getting out of there. In fact, today is a day for celebration. We''re riding back home today. Huzzah!


    While the untraditional field trip of a leprosarium of all places was very informative, a real eye-opener, I am very glad to get out of there. Perhaps when I''m older and not as restricted will I be able to make better use of my time and presence there.


    For now, I can only tackle what I can reach.


    That and I miss my rich girl''s life, work and conveniences. Surrounded by servants. Catering to my every order and demand. Soft beds, soft comforts, and decadent food.


    The military ration life is not for me!


    The mess hall was not a kid-friendly dining establishment. Meals sucked. The first place I visited when I figured out how to break out of the inner keep was the mass kitchens. Too dry. To salty. Too hard? All dried and preserved, even the veggies. There was so much meat. Full protein of hunted game to keep all those muscles running.


    I understand food is hard to transport but seriously? Anything? I think I lost quite a bit of weight.


    Of course, a problem is that no one can even touch let alone bring over produce from the leprosarium valley for fear of contamination. Very inconvenient.


    How can anyone survive out there, let alone keep training, when their tongues are dying? Well, I suppose they don''t know any better. Another thing to do when I get back to my home ''office''. Send food aid. No not ''food, but aid and things to start some better self-contained sufficiency out there. Plant more onions and herbs in the empty badlands! Anything! Trees to block off some of that erosions! Buckwheat? Lentils? That can survive out there? It''s colder out here, brrr. People like potatoes despite them being relatively new and strange? WIll that work?


    The tastiest thing there were the fresh eggs, which I''m pretty sure they''re raising a pack of dino chickens for. Only those things can survive out in the badlands, and feed themselves by hunting.


    I sure hope Georgie has fun for the rest of his...run.


    We however have the balloon, so chop chop. Fly and park this thing down, I''m feeling woozy!


    But really now, Lukas is so much nicer and quieter. What a good little boy in the balloon. Such a good minion when put in his place. Why?


    For a few reasons really.


    One, he''s grounded. Lots of trouble with Gable, no more freedoms. Only recovery and kiddy leashes. Not that it really matters when he spent most of the week rolling around in food poisoning like pain.


    Two, the forced bed rest was a perfect time to shave his head. After all you can only put me and a weakened Lukas in the same room for so long, with no babysitters, before I reach for the razor. That boy sleeps like the dead. It''s somehow a little uneven but who can tell?


    My own grounding was so worth it. Afterall there''s nothing to do in the military outpost.


    Three. He shrunk.


    I lost weight? Lukas lost weight, height, and time. He officially shrunk from the effects of eating that damn peach?....


    Ahahahahahahhahaha!!!


    "Only about 5 centimeters kiddo, aww come on Luky-poo. Don''t cry. Pumpkin pie stop rubbing salt in the open wound! There there Lukas, you''ll grow back that weight and height in no time! Or 8 months given what you ate...." grampa tries comforting the shocked silent boy from the driver''s seat.


    The now slightly smaller boy makes the sound of a kicked piglet, a loud hiccup bringing forth the hint of tears. Which prompts Gable to not only slap Grampa upside the head but change Lukas''s kiddy seat to his lap.


    What a blessing. Sheesh some kids get all the luck. Grow a couple of months younger and sit in Gable''s lap!


    "My awesome shrunk..." Lukas sniffles through his sadness.


    "Heeehee funny big bruder. Stooopid." my sister laughs.


    "You''re stupid stinky..." Lukas yells back, much weaker than usual.


    "Heeehehahaha big bruder get smaller and smaller to be little bruder! Smaller than Lily!" she cackles menacingly.


    Oh, critical hit Lilyanne. Big sister is so proud.


    "Noooo, wah Gable! Cap! I don''t wanna I''m never eating not bacon again." he weeps pitifully into Gable''s tired but comforting hold.


    Ah, that is not the sort of lesson we should walking away from here. Please eat your fruit and vegetables, everyone. Moderation is key.


    But oh well, Lukas has even more time to learn them apparently, practically aging backward. What a dangerous fruit. Information about it can never leak. Not that it''s at any risk? At least from my own memory, hell even I didn''t know!


    The breeze from the balloon is quite refreshing after all this time. The lure of heading homebound even sweeter. All is well.


    I''m not ignoring my own mother or anything.


    "DAAAAAAAAAAARLLIIIIIING~!!!!!"


    "Butters, you are a grown woman and I will not have you disgracefully jumping out this balloon midair. Am I understood?"


    "Yes Gabbey."


    Can you blame me?


    At Gable''s seemingly psychic turn and scolding, mother sniffs back to her seat and all is well in the balloon.


    Down below the bird eye''s view I can spot what mother must be aiming for. A little spot of dark red, a drop of blood against all the.... in all the...hey wait...is my house bigger?


    Oh my god, it is?! How did the property get so much larger?!


    A whole outer wall has been added much further down and out, concaving the property majestically. You might as well put a giant moat in there!


    But instead, in between the old and new walls is not just the decorated lawns, hedges, and hidden safety features but actual buildings. A brand new annex, no multiple of them. With their own courtyards and paved pathways.


    Did we build a lake? Oh my god is that a whole glass palace? WIth the hell?!


    Sure we''ve built new annexes and additions before in my memory, perhaps improved extra living quarters for the servants or my own stables. But nothing to this extent?! Not even half of this!


    It''s down in front of the said manmade lake and crystalline structure, a greenhouse glass palace still in construction, that the balloon aims and dives at. More specifically the safe green lawn in front of it.


    Oh thank god. Grampa please don''t drive me down a pool of water, wrought iron, and glass shards oh please.


    "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG~!!!"


    It''s like watching a loose cannon being shot out. Barely touching down is apparently good enough, and Gable does nothing but sigh, smacking at grampa to stop laughing as mother quite literally dives out. Giving up entirely as she shamelessly runs past the shimmering lakeside.


    Flower petals float through the air as she breezes through them, the long edges of her dress blowing dramatically. The soft swaying grass, softer reflections of the nearby water and sparkling glass make the scenes all the more hazy. All the more wonderfully romantic and she runs headfirst, right into the waiting arms of...


    ...Alfonso.


    "DARLING!?! So mean, so cruel! Don''t you miss me terribly too? Oh you don''t love me anymore do you!?!! " mother sobs in our butler''s gentle''s hold.


    Gentle in that he is literally holding a pile of very soft and bouncy looking duvets. Folded over and wrapped, they partly restrain mother from immediately jumping off and clawing my father''s clothes off. Or eat his face whole. Or whatever it is that humans do when they''re stupidly lovey-dovey.


    Her aim was honestly pretty spot on if not for father, who had merely stepped aside and smoothly avoided the incoming danger. The red-headed fiend, previously focuses on the plans in his hands, moves to roll them up, snapping for a pair of workers to take them away. Oh hey, isn''t that the fake blacksmith who gave me my last proper haircut?


    But the fake blacksmith along with the rest of them clear the premise, taking along with them all more delicate breakable items before it can be properly installed.


    "Apologies my beloved. A force of habit. " father barely keeps out of danger zone. I suppose he means keeping his life and dignity.


    In Alfonso''s restrained bundle of blankets mother somehow cries even harder, looking hurt as she wriggles around, making an ugly fishie face.


    "Keeper of my maiden heart, greatest grief of my soul, your old habit is to get away from me?!!"


    "Yes." he answers too bluntly.


    "And pray tell why would you, my one and only, do such a horrible thing?" mother rightfully asks.


    "I knew you like the setting sun, even without looking. Your presence too burned under my skin. In case you ever forget, I have never forgotten and I am never not thinking of you.... even low-level organisms have the instinct to flee and survive."


    "...."


    Yeah, I don''t know the correct procedure for getting mauled by one''s own wife either. That was certainly what was going to happen if things had proceeded naturally. But thank goodness father still has some sense of shame and propriety. Not letting himself get suffocated under kisses and glomps in public in front of all the Ventrella employees and troops members roaming about doing work.


    "Boo hoo hoo, awful. You''re simply awful! I had very good reasons! I would never treat you in such a manner..." she plops over, tearful and supposedly heartbroken.


    Bleh.


    The oldies should unbuckle and release us children so we no longer are strapped in and forced to watch this torturous show. I however seem to have the worst timing for anything. Not being able to look away fast enough.


    With a light chuckle, father shakes his head, undoing one of the brown leather gloves to gently caress the side of mother''s funny fishy face. He laughs and denies her spleas of affections in the very worst kind of way.


    "Will you behave for me? My Maria? Can you show me how good you can be?"


    Excuse me, currently finding my jaw. Mother is not doing much better. Either having a heat-induced stroke or silently trying to hold in her screaming kyaaaas. Floating hearts and flowers already radiating everywhere.


    I think I''m going to be sick.


    There are many things to be doing first, now that I''m back on home soil. Perhaps finally seeing Abigail and my soap room. Looking over the research left behind in the kitchen. Checking in on my own employees and systems? Maybe have a rest like the little lady I am. I could even ask what the hell all these new additions to my family''s property is. Interrogate the apprent shady source of all this trouble.


    The answer is none of that. Blurg.


    "Pumpkin no! Not in the balloon!" grampa''s voice booms.


    Five minutes later and a terrible dunking face wash in the new fake lake, courtesy of grampa, I feel much emptier and more refreshed. What a fresh clean water system we have there, how lovely. And no, I did not vomit in the balloon.


    Grampa carried me off quickly enough to defile a random bush. My apologies.


    "Today you can be the stinky baby, Rosa." the little pinhead calls, hiding under Gable''s protection so I can''t recover enough to throw him in the new lake.


    Let''s test out how deep that thing goes shall we?


    Boooo no, Gable don''t go. How did they disappear into the lake like that? Wait no, I''ll be nice and stop bullying Lukas, for now. Nooooooo don''t leave me here with just the Ventrellas!


    "Paaaaaaaaaaaaapaaaaaa~" runs off Lilyanne, released from her seatbelt.


    She run with much less speed and grace but no less enthusiasm compared to mother. Right into Alfonso''s very padded arms. Juding by her giggles and happy tugs on Alfono''s mustache, that was exactly where she meant to aim. Hmmm, a very concerning copycat of a child.


    "Oh! That''s right," mother seems to recall.


    She wiggles herself half out of Alfonso''s safety net, handing our butler a peach. No not my baby sister, but a literal flat peach.


    Ah. That.


    "Thank you very much, my Lady. I see I am not up for retirement anytime soon."


    The head butler of my household does not seem to have aged one bit in all the years I''ve known him. But that is most likely because he''s already very old and grey, not because of some secret treasured fruit. As he silently puts away the curious little thing, I can''t seem to recall seeing Alfonso look any older than he already does.


    I don''t wonder if he knows. He serves my father first and foremost, of course he knows. Of course he never told me a thing either.


    "Hmmpf" I turn away from the happy family scene.


    Gable adopt me already. I''ll even put up with Lukas. I''m more used to having a brother anyways. Problems solved if I just get away from all this shady drama in the first place.


    Not that Gable would tell me anything either. No one does. They just avoid it or say it''s not my time or place. Well fine. I can play that game too for all the time I''m still stuck here.


    A shiny light reflects and aims for my eyes.


    Something that glitters with the money of an expensive crystal or gem, making my mouth instinctively water at the beautiful value of it.


    But I am stronger than that.


    "Hmmpf" I turn away even further, walking off my wobbly legs. Doing my very best to be visibly uninterested in all the proceedings.


    There''s plenty to do and see. I can figure out plenty on my own. Hmmm now let''s see....how do I get past that wall and into my own house...


    Another shiny flies its way partly to me, so easily in arm''s reach if I just bend down. I admit, it halts me. Tempts me greatly. Shiny gem...must be worth at least 10 silvers, so shiny.


    No! I must not! There''s a trap in there I just know it.


    "Hmmmf!!!" I scamper off as quickly as I can, avoiding the temptation. Though if I dared to peek back it might have been an amusing sight.


    "Oh see darling, she''s been like this all week. I can''t get her to even look at me for more than a few seconds..." mother whines. As if tattling on me to the other half of the baby maker.


    Yeah yeah, tattle all you want. As if I have anything to be afraid of. I''m a jaded adult that''s been through two lifetimes of bullshit. I can even resist mother''s sticky suffocating hugs, it''s just holding my breath practice.


    I wonder if that has any adverse effects on my developing brain cells?


    "Maybe she''s looking for another bush? Nature calls! Here here Rose bush, there''s a good spot in that shrub right over -" grampa brings up.


    "Am not! I don''t gotta go!" I break, yelling over grampa''s nonsense. Ah the power of annoyances and false accusations.


    "Honored Father, just what have you done to my daughter now?" the money hoarding fiend asks blankly, expression dropped stiffly at my refusal to fall for his cheap schemes.


    Oh ohoho yes, despair that I no longer fall for such things. In this life, I am Rosalia Therese Ventrella. What sort of riches and crude old jewels haven''t I seen with my current position? As a modern person, I also have more refined tastes. To think I''ve been selling my time and labor so cheaply every time father presents a shiny. It''s like pocket lint to him.


    Though I am short on funds, my vision is clearer now. In the very worst-case scenario, I can survive by setting up shop selling meat skewers.


    I don''t need his-


    Oooohhhhhh shiny rock, very big rock. Where did the nerd get such a specimen shipped over? What beautiful marbling, such a gorgeous cut of aquamarine. Oh how much money is in that uncut rock. Such a shape! So much potential. Oh it''s very cool to the touch.


    Huh when did I get back over here? Why is everyone sighing a breath of relief?


    "Oh thank the goddess. I don''t normally approve of such methods, oh but she always does listen to you best darling." mother sniffs and swoons, deemed either docile or safe enough that she freely clings onto father''s scandalously exposed arms.


    Oh summer, you cruel beast. Forcing men into indecency by rolling their sleeves up! I must look away! Oh damn it this rock is too big to put into my purse, I can''t profit from this at all!


    "To think she already recognizes precious stones in the raw material form. Or no perhaps more so because of the natural breakage, highlighting the cut? Either way Chip''s attraction to shiny currency is varied, so even building materials will do, hmm?"


    "Darling....darling please. You never properly responded to my letter, oh did it somehow get lost? Someone... let, ...that, slip to Rosalia. Now she''s very upset. she won''t give me the time of day on her own and I can''t even begin to-"


    "My love, breath. That''s my hellfire and holy water, good girl, it will all be fine. You''ll have to be more specific my darling wife, for there are many ''thats'' in our collectives, and I do greatly apologize for the kind I bring along to our lives..."


    "Oh darling!!~"


    "Is she upset because we named her Therese after my great grand aunt who was burned at the stake as a witch?"


    YOU DID WHAT?! Excuse me?!!


    "There we go, that''s my terrible little criminal in the making. Here here." father claps at my rage, prying me off the smooth construction material and into his arms. Such scandalous arms. I must hiss and fight it!


    But I am three. I can''t fight anything if it''s by force. All my attempts are useless, like a wet kitten being picked off by the scruff of its neck.


    "I just vomited I will be sick on you." I threaten, feeling all 7 layers of petty.


    "Of course you will, we have a lovely selection of garden work to bury the evidence, should you choose to." father answers, patting my back as he walks down from the glasswork.


    "No fair mama!" I can hear Lilyanne''s little voice growing further away, along with mother''s hushes and sweet talk. Alfonso''s receptions with promises of snacks and tea for a rest, getting their lack of luggage.


    Being carried on the ground like this I can see things in much better detail than from the balloon or even by myself. I can see now how much things really are still in the process of being constructed. The courtyards and annexes more filled out framework than anything actually liveable yet, but very important in long term building than any fluff and frills. They are quality.


    Though I do see some townhouses like buildings already showing signs of personalized touches. Little herb garden pots and loose laundry hung from the second floor. A young woman walks out with another basket of laundry, looking very domestic with the glow of a still newlywed.


    "That''s Barbara!" I can''t help but exclaim at the sight of my kitchenmaid already occupying one of these spaces.


    "Yes I suppose so. She is the wife of one of my more established accountants, of course she would be living in his assigned housing. I can''t have them keep rooming in the servants'' quarters like before. Very inappropriate. I do believe many of my employees would revolt if we all made them bunk there like they were dorm children. "


    Hmm, yes that is fair and reasonable.


    I recall additional annex building and living quarters being built for such reasons in my last lifetime. It''s especially important in keeping the separation from the main house. They look very different than this though, but so are a lot of things. It''s a lot livelier around here than I remember.


    "Did you have a good trip my Chip? You are unreasonably fond of visiting the garrison grounds, how was the location change?"


    Father does not do small talk. He makes inspections and evaluations.


    "Horrible." I mutter out, still feeling petty but unable to actually ignore the man. Not under one of his inspections. That much I''m used to.


    "How so? Did you not have your amusements? I even allowed one of those blasted little brats to infringe, seeing how it''s your beloved sir Gable''s charge. Were you so wonderfully amused at all the new sights, sounds, and tastes, as you often are." father follows up, sounding dishonestly interested.


    "No. It was horrible. The leprosarium was alight but everything else, and everyone else, is horrible." I huff, refusing to give in.


    "You do know then, my little gremlin, that most three year olds do not even understand the concept of a leper, let alone be able to pronounce leprosarium. Hmmm, wherever did you learn such a thing already I wonder."


    Ah. I failed.


    I failed the inspection already. I''m doomed. Just burn me at the stake like the witch I''m apparently named for already. I''m going to be interrogated and disposed of now. The fiend is going to bury me in the foundations and walls of one of these properties.


    Maybe that big old barn looking thing we''re approaching. Yes, it is devoid of people and life, perfect private spot for infanticide.


    He attacks by pinching my cheek. Ow ow ow, my face. It is not made of dough or mochi ow ow ow, stop stretching it! Death by pulling and squishing my chubby cheeks is not the way I want to go! Where is the dignity in that?!


    "Hmmm, oh I apologize there Chippy. Did you perhaps feel sensations of physical, mental and or emotional pain and discontent?"


    "Of course not father. I am merely practicing my screaming."


    He pinches again at the other cheek, ow ow ow ow.


    "Yes, ow. Yes father, Pleases stop making my face uneven. Ow." I continue to be abused like a raw ball of dough by the villainy fiend.


    Though I can admit, he could certainly make me suffer much more should he so wish. This, however, hurts my pride, greatly.


    "Then you have no talent for that whatsoever, and shall put your fears, and your mother''s worries, to rest." he chides me.


    "No talent for what? All you do is smush my face." I complain through what I can, oh my little cheeks and lips. I am made of solid, not gas. I cannot form into the shapes you mold me.


    Father readjusts his hold on me, gives me pause for breath though I know this torture is far from ending. Especially from what he says next.


    "I can accept your language skills and learning comprehension levels. After all, you are still somehow a product of the blurry science of human reproduction, and of my lineage. Still there are limits long passed, unexplained by the vast potential of a human brain untainted by the skewed world."


    "....."


    "I do not expect much you nor your sister, but then again my personal expectations are skewed. It would be enough if you could both somehow survive well in this cruel world. Far stranger than even I can begin to fathom. It is in this grand unknown, that a man of your honorable grandfather''s standing was made. I shall take your silence, and increasing tension, again as part your unreasonably advanced comprehension?"


    ".... no?"


    I''m doomed. I don''t know what the crazy old man has told him, or what my shady shady honestly quite scary, father has figured out on his own. But either way, I''m doomed. Perhaps that is why, of all the places to take me for a ''walk'' it is to this isolated barnyard.


    "I had to invest quite the amount of my own spirits and brandies to even get you and your mother''s oh so beloved Gable, which unfathomably borderline manic worship I honestly I do not understand but cannot oppose, to even lower his guard enough to get any sense out of."


    "....you got Gable drunk?" is all I can make out of that.


    Oh the forbidden image, the horrors, the wonders. Those two drinking? Together? I can''t even imagine such a scene. It would be like putting the devil himself and a gorgeous God in the same room. That''s too much.


    Oh my nose, oh my blood pressure. Is this the last thing I shall imagine before I perish?


    "Of course that strange little brat was far easier to bribe, it responds to any cooked meat product? So easily? If I knew then I could have saved a few bottles. Bacon and steak is far cheaper." father oddly complains.


    Yes Lukas is not meant to be captured and interrogated. He cracks faster than an already broken egg. I don''t think that boy knows the definition of secrets. It''s quite useful if you can decipher through the nonsense, but not if someone else gets him.


    But I don''t really understand what father is going on about now, or how that relates to me and whatever it is I don''t have talent for or should put to rest. I think this family has too much drama hidden away for us to even make sense of. Perhaps it''s because every single Ventrella is certified batshit insane. Even father, who married in. It''s the only way he could have survived in the first place.


    A chamber door creaks and unfolds open. Dark coolness lays beyond inside the construction, sheltering against the harsh summer sun and all possible witnesses.


    "The order was very specific," father says ominously, forcing the both of us in. His steps silent on the floor.


    "...What sort of orders?" I gulp.


    Orders for a torture chamber? An interrogation lab? A holding for misunderstood and falsely accused baby witches?


    "Too specific ones, it made it all the more suspicious, but easier." father vaguely answers, causing the hammering in my little chest to increase.


    Anxiety streams and pours uncomfortably inside me. I can only brace myself for what truths, and horrors that may be to come.


    A soft neighing sounds out from one of the ominous doorways.


    Wait what?


    "A filly of about the same age as my little girls, slightly older, golden coat with black hooves and mane. Located Northwest of the territory, but not beyond the midway lands. Working breed but this one turned out as an outlier."


    It can''t be. The door knocks and unlocks, and by the general rule of common sense it really shouldn''t be.


    "Is this your horse?" father unveils the contents of the stall, much to my shock and surprise.


    "Adorita!"


    He releases me since I can only clamor as far as the first gate, unable to really get up close. But I know her. Those strong but still awkward limbs, thicker and stouter than the average riding breed due to her wrong lineage. That soft comforting rumble and neigh to her voice. Those calming big brown eyes. That''s my Adorita! My first baby, Adorita!


    But whatever is she doing here?! I didn''t even find her yet?


    "Hmm looks like you already have names in mind. As suspected. Are you satisfied?" father bends down to pick me right back up, giving me that vantage point over my lounging little filly, still too young to be called a mare.


    He found her. Father found the exact right horse, the same one he got me the very first time.


    "I don''t know how you do it, but I know it''s not something so simple as merely seeing visions in dreams, visions of the future. If it was as easy as that, you wouldn''t be like this. " father''s voice cuts through any joy or pleasantries I feel at getting my pet.


    I knew I had been pushing it. I knew I couldn''t keep getting away so easily. However the confrontation is still much harder, and much more unexpected than I ever thought it would go.


    "Your younger sister wouldn''t react like that. She cries or laughs, but she shows everything on her mind. Much like your mother, frustratingly so. It will be a problem in the future. You, however, Rosalia, so young, yet you already force yourself to hold back. It could be part nature..., " father compares, playing with the short locks of my hair.


    It is. Rosalia knew how to hold back since very young. She knew how to shout and scream to be served. And she knew when to retreat, for safety.


    The soft action makes me nervous like I don''t know what to expect. Because I really don''t. Not with this person. This part of me and Rosalia seems to have stayed exactly the same. We freeze when it''s time for evaluations, never knowing how much we pass or fail. But knowing it''s not going to be enough. It''s never enough. Yet we still hold out breaths, hoping for nothing.


    "Could be. As I often found it easier to stay silent. Let actions and results speak for me far louder than any words, both in my youth and even to now. " father continues to contemplate.


    "...just what did they say...about me?" they could mean anyone. Anyone you interrogate. The crazy old man. Gable. Anyone really.


    But more importantly...what do you think of me....and what does that mean?


    Those are the kind of questions I cut off, swallowing down the rest. Maybe I should have just stayed this way from the start.


    "Nothing I don''t already know. That you''re a very large headache and quite possibly a freak of nature. As expected. Why? Does it disappoint you to hear your Gable call you a headache? For you very much are so. At least your grandfather says freak of nature like it was a compliment, something of pride. "


    I do not know how to react to that. Plenty to unpack there. So the line of my mouth must have a very funny looking line.


    "There there Chippy, one of my greatest headaches, if you admit your papa is the superior figure, I just may forgive you for running off all the time. Just perhaps. "


    Is he...bribing me with my horse? To say he is better? How did we get from his shady secrets to my deep dark secrets, to this petty jealousy nonsense?


    "What kind of freak of nature? ...Papa? Was I really named after a witch? How come I''ve never heard of that? Are you going to burn me at the stake?" I bluntly let out.


    I would hope not. While I don''t think presenting me with a young horse is a very threatening gesture you can never tell with my father.


    "Heavens to hell no, you''re far too delicate to withstand candlelight, let alone survive being set in flames whole. There will be none of that playing around nonsense, none. I don''t care if you''re your grandfather''s lineage or even if you somehow manage to improve your dismal talent and weak constitution," he speaks to me as if I were a stupid little thing that would quite literally be tempted to do something so dangerous.


    "Papa...what are talking about?" I feel the long-simmering frustration in me start to rise. This thing I''ve been kept in the mysterious dark for over a week, no a lifetime.


    Once again, father tries to distract me by uselessly pinching my cheek. How annoying.


    "Does it hurt my little Rosalia?" he asks me once again, a wry smile to his frustrating face.


    Blowing out a breath, I nod to his question.


    "Well then, do your worst." he offers, gesturing to himself.


    "Whatever do you mean? Just say it out father. I don''t understand your riddles or tests. I can''t actually see into the future or anything, I know grampa told you. I''m sorry I don''t know! That''s Lilyanne at best! I don''t know anything near enough and no one helps with telling me anything!" I shout in frustration, smacking him in with my tiny fists in the chest.


    I can feel the discomfort bubbling up in me. The beginning of angry tears already forming in the corner of my eyes.


    "You''re so inadequate and delicate, it''s marvelous." he chuckles, feeling no effect to my attacks whatsoever. Of course, he doesn''t. I''m so pathetically weak and I think there''s something seriously messed up in the villainy central HQ that''s his head.


    "There there, doesn''t it hurt so marvelously. Your heart is capable of feeling so much, isn''t that wonderful?" father brushes away my increasing tears, rubbing his own face too close to mine.


    "No! No it''s not. It feels very horrible. " I cough and sniff.


    "That''s alright." father assures, "My little girl can more than afford that. You don''t have to force yourself, you don''t need such a disgusting thing from me."


    I stare up at him, as confused as ever. He looks to me with a melancholy expression, one that is more tired than his years should allow.


    My father is still a young nobleman in his biological prime, and yet there are callouses on his hands and a scar hidden on his temple, much more probably hidden under his clothes. Something a man of his standing should be able to afford to prevent or completely doing away with the power of money and magic.


    "It doesn''t hurt." he says oddly, tone almost breaking when I reach up.


    It''s all just to push him and his stupid face away. That''s all. But my hands are too weak and clumsy, so they push only his hair, a dark but more horrifyingly vibrant shade than mine. Mother doesn''t exaggerate when she compares them to rose petals. It''s unfair how a man''s hair can be so soft, and I understand every tear mother must have screamed in frustration at the injustice of comparison.


    The scar at his side of his temple is not a very large one, nor very noticeable let alone ugly. Dare I say it, it gives this fiend all the more dashing and dangerous of an impression, should you pull away the hints of his bangs. Lighter on pale skin, a looks like the streak from a shooting star, falling down to earth in sparks.


    It''s from a bullet. I know. I''ve always known.


    "It doesn''t hurt, my Rosalia. Not if I don''t want it to," he tells me in soft whispers, eyes closed from where I play.


    Is that it then? This whole big secret. How underwhelming and overly sensitive I am. I know there''s another implication, can reasonably see it, but I don''t know how to feel. Only that there''s this gaping crumbling going on in the hollow of my chest, and the inside of my cheek goes a bit numb from me chewing on it.


    "...The thing that you can turn off and on? " I brush at his temple.


    "But it''s nothing good, nothing but a parlor trick, a play of the senses and the mind. The human body can only withstand so much damage, and that is what pain is for. To warn you of danger, to tell you you''re alive. Without it, you can''t feel. It''s a terribly useless thing." father''s voice rumbles softly, reaches like the pretty strumming notes of vibrating strings on an instrument.


    It makes my fingers twitch. Muscle memory playing at ivory and obsidian keys. Nothing but old songs left.


    "Can I do that?" I tentatively ask, tasting bitter bile in the back of my throat still.


    "No darling, you haven''t the talent for it."


    "I didn''t ask if I had the talents for it. The dreams say I am a very untalented sort of girl, especially compared to Lilyanne. I only asked if I can, or have the ability to do so."


    His silent pause is all the confirmation I need.


    "Father. I''d like you to know, I am not actually a three-year-old girl. That''s how I know so much. That''s how I knew you were going to arrange to marry me off, or all the little things. I know too much for my age and can''t do anything about them. That''s the problem. "


    "Of course my dear, you''re three and a half. As you''ve told me many times before."


    "...."


    That''s not what I meant. But that must be all the truth that he can accept at this point in time.


    "No amount of silly visions can change that Rosalia. You can''t reach your own harness, you cry for your mother when you get motion sick, your penmanship is horrendously messy and you lisp around your every other word. You may think you have something more, thanks to this strangeness, a blessing as much as it''s a curse. You must be very frustrated with it. But you''re three and half. "


    I won''t push it.


    If that''s the explanation for the strangeness I exhibit. If that''s the excuse grampa so readily gave out, and mother and father so easily want to believe. Then so be it.


    They can believe that their silly daughters have occasional psychic visions into the future and that really really really messed one of them up. Well, it''s technically true. I know what will happen, and I died for it. I''m messed up.


    Or well, Rosalia. This is confusing enough. I certainly won''t try explaining, nor revealing, the fact that I''m not even their original daughter. That I''m someone else entirely trapped along for the ride. I just barely escaped torture as it is!


    So be it.


    "Actually, I''m a little over three and half at this point." I pout, still biting at my lip.


    "Of course dear. You count your months and years very well. " he plays along, oddly allowing this spoiled behavior.


    "I don''t terrify you?"


    I ask again because by all common sense a thing like me should. Once more of the truth comes out perhaps.


    If it ever does.


    "Of course you do Chippy. But no more than your youngster sister does. Please do not take it as a competition my girls, your mother is quite terrifying enough. " he answers plainly, finally straightening ourselves out from that very awkward closeness and seriousness.


    That''s enough progress from the month. Please give me another half a year to recover before I can intake anymore. I can only handle so much at a time apparently, it''s not good for my heart. At three and a half, it''s a very small organ.


    "....Can I pet my Adorita now?" I poke, trying to figure out a bit better where I stand.


    This man still thinks I''m his Rosalia, albeit with some extra abilities. He and mother could accept that Lilyanne was born with the magical blessings of the dawn, breaking through limits and sense of this world. Why not some of that rubbed off on to me? Right. I can work with this.


    "Perhaps after you''re closer to three and three forths. You both still need a lot of training. "


    Father does, however, allow me one last wave and lingering look. He holds me up high, given my height, and rights me on his shoulders. All before leaving the temporary stable. Back to the mess we have waiting for us outside in the daylight.


    This doesn''t fix things. These people still kept a lot from me, they still lead to Rosalia''s sad and tragic end. I know there''s plenty more they keep secret, as I do mine.


    But maybe like me, there''s only so much we can take at once. So I''ll allow that much.


    "So how do I turn my pain receptors on and off? I feel like that is extremely useful. Lilyanne can''t do that, definitely not. How do I-"


    "Chip. Absolutely not." father shoots me down instantly.


    "But!!!"


    "No."


    I think I have a long way to go.


    ------------------------------------------------


    ---------------------


    ---


    Bonus: E. Europe Road Trip (of Doom) part 3.


    Still Skippable. Just the drone camera on what kiddy #3 is doing.


    ---


    ---------------------


    ---------------------------------


    "I''m saying, there''s no way ''goblins'' exist in the first place. Let alone hunt this road, it''s gotta be a scam." Yuna argued with all the vigor of a young teenager.


    "Shush! Don''t jinx it! Never underestimate the fae-" Vincent, in the wagon''s driver seat, was interrupted from screaming out his warning by a seemingly dainty looking but shoulder cracking hand.


    A young woman with a dead serious face slowly peered out from behind them. Fairer and more traditionally feminine that Tamera, like he was used to, but as Vincent was learning the hard way no less frightening.


    "If you wake him up with your wailing...and I will make steamed pudding out of your blood and innards. Then sew the rest of you into a scarecrow. Do I make myself plain enough for you?" Cass warned without a trace of humor.


    "Yes ma''am" Vincent paled and whimpered, much to Yuna''s snickers.


    Who cared about the possible doings of evil spirits and beings on this shortcut road, traversing through isolated mountains and woods. There was a much more frighting presence with them.


    A woman.


    Vincent cries and wonders why the hell every single female he knows is terrifying as fuck.


    Cass however looked gentle as any, sewing in the light and smiling softly when she looked back under the caravan wagon, satisfied with the sight of a small slumbering child.


    Bundled and cushioned in down and cooling silk, the little lump in the bunk slept on. His little breathes were even and steady. Still thankfully out like a light.


    She closes the curtains and lets him be.


    Amar hasn''t been sleeping well on the road. For reasons, Cass would rather not think about, not remember at this point in time. The same reasons why it can''t be her, but someone else, someone who wasn''t there, that wakes the boy from his occasional night terrors. Usually, that job fell onto Yuna, the young teenager doing so without prompting or order. As if he was long used to it.


    Nights were the worst, and the schedule couldn''t afford they camp all the time. It had become an unhealthy routine on the road where the boy sat awake at night, often keeping whoever was driving company, while he slept in the day.


    "If only we didn''t stop by all those villages, or waste five days at the sea. Five days. Then we wouldn''t have to take this way." Vincent whimpers, complaining to himself.


    "Goblin smoglin, they don''t exist outside underground dungeons and even then those are some messed up mutated hoards. And It was the damn sea, how could we not? That place was like paradise." Yuna remarked, marking off the worn map.


    "The water was extremely beautiful. A lovely town. Best I''ve seen here in these lands." Cass agreed, deftly doing her needlework. Supplies greatly refilled from all their choice stopovers.


    They weren''t exactly the most prepared when thrown over here on the other side of the portal. Vincent for all this carefulness, concerns, and self-induced stress, was not the best at thinking nor packing realistically.


    He didn''t even bring a spare wheel?


    At first Cass was grateful beyond words hearing about Vincent, that he has cared over and watched out for her young master where she could not.


    But after all this time of personally seeing them interact up close, she thinks it''s the other way around. Amar was the one reminding the irresponsible elder to sleep or handing him preprepared food to eat. Coaxing him to get out of a mud pit or tear ball. It was utterly messed up. When she caught Amar patching up a cloak that Vincent, the useless gloomy scholar Cass now labels, ripped from falling off a cliff, well she couldn''t take it anymore.


    With a stiff smile, she stabs the cloak repeatedly with her needle, stitches perfect and tight, imagining it was the gloomy scholar.


    Vincent does not dare peep another word, not even to compliment.


    "Right. Like were you really gonna tell the brat straight to his sad ass kicked puppy face, ''look at that! But you can''t go swimming because of MY own stupid schedule''. Huh? Were go really gonna do that to Amar? Huh?!" Yuna goes on, the only one unworried and unrushed.


    Yuna remembers the sea fondly in the way youth does. Sun, swimming and bonfire grilled freshly caught seafood. His mood even better improved from some good trades he got there for pelts and trinkets caught in missions afar. A perk of being a sort of traveler.


    This was the reason, or reasons, that the schedule was messed up and needed to be made up. Quickly. Excluding that first middle of nowhere market town they made the wagon repairs at, they had stopped and fooled around at not just one but three other places.


    Three.


    Vincent can admit it feels nice to not drive through the night or sleep somewhere nice and solidly still.


    He can admit it was nice to eat fresh foods and not just jerky rations and nutrient jellies.


    He''ll even admit the various sightseeing was kinda nice. A strange new break from both the follow-up mess of the last few months or the usual routines of his dark damp miserable research. Kind of relaxing even.


    But the schedule!?!


    He can feel the looming anxiety of the eventual day he faces his employer again. It made him want to jump off the wagon and roll over on the side of the road to die.


    "What did your Lord or officer even say was the schedule? Is it really so strict? " Cass asked, eyes uninterested but for her needlework. She doesn''t mess around with that.


    "As much nonsense as his fear of old goblin road here." Yuna pulls out a fish jerky to chew on it lazily.


    There wasn''t must to do when driving on the road. As it should be. A smooth boring ride is the best kind of ride, boring as it is. It meant safety.


    Vincent shivered in the thought alone. It was with a great too dramatic breath before he could even begin to articulate words.


    "When a Ventrella says one thing....it must always mean another, no three, three different things?! So thus my last message regarding the matter was, ''as you can keep the brat away, in fact, don''t ever return''. Meaning if we don''t hurry the death up, we might as well never come back!"


    The two others gave each other a look at the driver''s power of deduction.


    "Somehow...I don''t think that''s what was meant." Yuna says dully.


    "You''ve never been personally threatened by the Lord!!!" Vincent cries, trying not to go down that mental road.


    "What did I say about being loud? " Cass held up a needle, far finer than any common housewife''s and made from expensive metal. It would be a perfect medical grade for cutting through flesh like butter. From the angle she held, it let the sharp tip shine in the light.


    "Yes Ma''am" Vincent quickly holds his breath, shutting up.


    "Oh. What. An. Honor. Shame for me to miss out." the teenager replies, leaving his seat and disappearing back behind in the wagon.


    That was enough Vincent for the hour, at least for him. He tags out with Cass officially, signing that he was going to take a nap with the boy in the back.


    See the older girl wasn''t mean to him because he didn''t do anything that well deserved it. Duh. Don''t get Yuna wrong. He''d rather deal with Vincent over most other people, but that''s because he''d rather permanently shut up most others.


    Yuna does not go anywhere without a weapon, even when it''s not in his hands or seemingly obvious. Most commonly, he keeps a pair of blades under his arm bands, well hidden, well disguised, but easy to access.


    It''s those that he immediately unsheaths from the sudden sense of fear and dread. The unwelcome surprise.


    "God damn it brat, left the creepy ass doll out again." Yuna hisses quietly, calming his breathing and sheathing back in his short daggers.


    He partly regrets encouraging Amar to get that thing already. If Lord Ventrella was going to kill them over any offense, it was going to be for scaring his treasured little princess silly.


    What''s worse was that the doll was positioned facing the front, its black stone button eyes gleaming at anyone who dared enter. Closed sewn mouth demurely stitched in an X with dyed red thread, as if holding back secrets. The hair layed back, as if someone nicely brushed and placed it there.


    Must have been Cass, he saw the woman fixing up the doll to be a little more presentable just the other day.


    "You''re going to give THIS to a little girl?!" she had nagged, washing out possibly a pondful of grime and something that smelled suspiciously of old dried blood.


    Yeah his mistake for letting Amar touch that thing in the first place, it could have been full of fleas.


    Right now it was as clean and fixed up as could be and then some. Cass working domestic magic apparently. Getting rid of the horrifying cracked porcelain face, "it''s dangerous for children", and restuffing the thing with scented dried herbs and river plants fluff instead of "what''s in here? Straw? Human hair? Is this a plaything or a shaman instrument of human resentment? Why is it covered in bite marks like fangs?".


    Right. Domestic magic. Looks and smells much better.


    Yuna picked the thing up, shrugged, and tucked it into Amar''s sleeping arms, right where he curled on the bottom bunk. Then climbed over the space on top and fell promptly asleep himself. Knocking out quickly and easily, even without a promised alarm.


    He does not see nor sense the smiling gleam from the doll''s original eyes.


    They ride on in that fashion for a comfortable enough amount of time. Safe and on schedule. The short cut promising their speed and schedule, though the road got increasingly emptier and more run down. Free of any bothersome other travelers to share the road with or stop for any reason.


    Cass even finished with redoing Vincent''s cloak, even adding in a new secure set of clasps. No short cuts needed with her advanced skills. It was after all something she was very proud of, unlike on say...digging.


    "Alright, drink your jellies and rest your eyes for a bit. I can take it from here," she offers to switch out of the driver''s seat. More concerned about Vincent collapsing on them than anything.


    At this point, Vincent only nods, increasingly used to the driving routine. It was a lot easier having another adult of board, as frightening as she was. He hands her the reigns easily, yawning his thanks as he heads back grab a flask of nutrient jelly and rest his senses for a bit.


    It''s with closed eyes that something smacks him in the face.


    "By death''s hold damn it!!!AAAAHHHH!!!!" he shrieks, falling back in an over comical manner.


    Up in the front, Cass facepalms. Knowing that it was inevitable everyone would wake up after that. Oh well, she estimates from the sky that they had another 3 hours till sunset. She supposed now was a reasonable time to take a dinner meal anyways. Absolutely forbidding Amar, a sensitive growing little boy, from surviving on the same rations diet that Vincent seemed to find most convenient.


    "Alright back there?" she threatens dryly to where Vincent tripped over himself.


    "Like what the fuck?" Yuna groggily crawls down, leaning on the bunk. Grumpiness full force after that sort of wake up.


    "Um...are you alright?" even Amar peeks out, childishly soft eyes blinking from under sheets and covers. Once he identified where he was, with who, he scooted out from the safety of the walls and blankets, over to where Vincent groaned on the wagon flooring.


    Yuna lets him, watching with a slight sense of relief that there was no panic or traces of nightmares in the little boy. He hasn''t seen that level of night terrors in over a year with Amar, resurged in just this one trip.


    It''s why, as reasonably bearable as Cass was, he definitely didn''t trust her. No chance, no way.


    "Oh? What are you doing out?" Amar pokes at the doll, a souvenir he picked up early on.


    It laid there on the ground next to Vincent, its body splayed oddly. Tight and together, one single limb, a cloth stuffed arm, pointing.


    For no reason at all, Amar looked up in that very direction, out from the coverings of the wagon merrily riding along. Towards the not quite yet setting sun, blurring one''s sight normally.


    "Ambush." the boy whispered to himself, then out loud to the others.


    It''s Yuna that acts first, already climbing out to the top of the wagon. Vulnerable but with the best vantage, confirming riders were far away but incoming, not just from the West but from the North. A planned ambush.


    "Goblins! Only horrible things await travelers on this road!" Vincent cries, his warning and fears come true.


    "Or, some bandits that know how to talk. Let''s see if they know how to dodge?" grins Yuna from above, automatic crossbow already shooting off.


    Safe and boring was preferred. But this was admittedly a lot more fun. They could use some exercise.


    The flare to the arrow streak and plumed across the part of the sky it covered, exploding on impact to a couple of very human screams. Down below the wagon, Amar had already popped up to hand Yuna refills of the outfitted arrows. Gas bombs for warnings, messy scrap metal explosives for mass range attacks, and fast-acting poison-tipped arrows for the close riders.


    "Little Kahk, be a dear." Cass requested, keeping her eyes still steady on the road.


    "On it!" Amar popped up from behind her, handing her own troops'' issued crossbow over, preloaded like a good little running boy. He even tucks her needlework basket under the seat.


    "And you, the gloomy useless one, hurry to pull up the barricades then speed up your steeds," she commanded, despite being the technically lowest ranking member.


    Vincent groans as he rolls over and up, make eye contact with a tiny little doll he''s come to fear over the past few days. But no one takes him seriously, because he fears many things.


    "Yes Ma''am," he shakily lets out, breathing deeply. In and out.


    "Drink this first, it''s okay Vincent. We can hold out until you can pull it up." Amar runs back over to him, water flask and nutrient jelly at the ready.


    Vincent nearly cries in the taste of relief. That and he really is dehydrated.


    "Well hurry it up, they got reinforcements a coming. Glad we got them early, it looks like a whole bloody clan out there." Yuna yells out under his pulled up mask. He shoots out, pacing himself and keeping them a distance back with his ''warning'' shots.


    Meanwhile, Cass took down a few herself while maintaining the reigns. But that''s only because they didn''t gather enough yet. She neither slowed nor sped up, knowing that only more of them lie in wait up ahead. It was more important to keep stable and observe, before wasting any more energy or resources.


    "Get on it Vincent!" she calls out, shooting a tip straight through a jumper''s eye socket.


    Amateurs, she huffs.


    Well as annoying as it was, she''s glad it''s nothing they can''t handle. Nothing that would give Amar further nightmares about. She can tell from the way he swings about energetically. Not a trace of tremors or fears as he supports everyone else at the forefront. The boy was smart enough to know not only how to help best but to not get in the way with his current skills and position. For that, she''s grateful how he''s such a sensible child.


    "You can do it Vincent, just drink it all down first and breathe. It''s gonna be ok, I''ll tell you a secret Vincent" Amar comforts, despite being in the hearing range of everyone.


    "It''s ok if they all die out there really quick. They''re bad people that must have done this before. I wonder what they did to the people they ambushed and robbed before? The same they''ll do to us? But they''re pretty weak, so they can''t have anything really scary or valuable." the boy smiles, sharing the good news he figured out all by themselves.


    Anyone else in another world, in another position, might be aghast at the contrast between the beaming smiling face of a young boy, no older than six, and the ...sharp judgment that comes forth. But Vincent is not just anyone, and he takes an almost tearful encouragement to those words.


    "Alright, real quick. " Vincent nods, assuring the boy.


    "There''s a lot more, they have a den somewhere the smell is strongest. You have to be quick here so we can sniff out that part? I wonder if there are more souvenirs in there? " Amar tilts his head.


    As if he were merely suggesting a raid on the bandit''s hideout. A question like if they could stay to swim at the sea, something that of course Vincent can''t say no to. Not to those sad eyes. Yeah sure. Go waste another day or whatever. They can go to their own ''goblin cave'' to raid.


    "A few more scrap bombs up here, they''re getting close. God damn is it just me or do these riders look inbred?!" Yuna muffles out.


    "On it! Oh Yuna can you try this one out, I didn''t test it yet. Can I see?" Amar pats Vincent in the head, like he''s a big boy, and hops on over to supply Yuna with ammo.


    "Yeah sure, keep your head down. Or Vincent can hurry the fuck up already!" the teen readjusts his balance, forcing Amar from climbing any higher than a mere peek on to the top of the running wagon.


    "LEFT! And if any of you get him shot, I''m sewing your useless fingers together!" Cass warns, swerving slightly out the way of a trap.


    Vincent finishes off his drink, feeling much calmer. Right. Real quick he tells himself. Pressing his bare hands down, he feels at the wagon, feels for all the things inside and underneath.


    Then makes them come forth.


    Slowly, like the shells of an insect, scales on a reptile, caprices grow to cover and bulk the entirety of the wagon. He allows the wings of support to grow out, carrying the layers of armor that grow around them, even covering the space on top to protect Yuna and Amar as they play about with the view.


    Once that is done, he moves on to the beasts. His steeds. A pride and joy undead chimeras, oddly shaped like a handsome stallion. He supposed Lord Ventrella was right in that those would sell better, was much more covert. He focuses on transferring them more, power, more bones. Feels where the stones driving their power are, and feeds it with his will.


    With the aid of some premade magical devices, Vincent would rather not pass out from all this work yes.


    "Crap they got some coming in behind us," shouts off Yuna, after watching a rather gratifying show of two riders get eaten by a seed shot that seemingly set out a killer vine. Yeah, that one was getting a pass.


    "Okay dokey," Amar slips and slides down, rummaging through the trap door of stuff.


    "Wait what the hell are you using?" Cass screams, sensing trouble.


    "Just the cooking oil" the boy replies innocently.


    He didn''t like that seed''s flavor anyway, and Cass knew it. So it''s with no surprise, that he runs off with it since she''s so damn occupied.


    In fact, it comes to no one''s surprise when the boy runs to the back with the jug, waiting till just the right moment the riders come up close, as if teasing them, them pours the container in a splashing trail.


    "Oh? Yuna? Can you help me?" Amar pleads, shaking the jug till it was empty.


    The teenager sighs, but whatever. Aims an explosive arrow, then lets it go.


    Yep, no surprise at all. But it was very satisfying watching them catch a literal line of fire.


    "Think they''re giving up yet?" Vincent asks, feeling less and less outside life around them from his spot.


    "Just about," Yuna snickers, rubbing Amar''s hair into a soft little bird''s nest, getting a laugh from the boy. Whatever he had bed hair anyways. It was cute Yuna can admit.


    "Well then," Cass turns with the reigns, driving them into a wide birth back around. Right where the biggest mess was and following the retreaters.


    If anyone asks why they were not ''on schedule'', upon their return to Ventrella lands, the party could easily claim many valid things. Repairs. Directions. Now even a robbery and attack. Really now, they had a lot of evidence and damage collected.


    It couldn''t hurt to gather up a few more? Say some criminal bounties and help themselves to any ''treasures'' they could use to help out with those travel funds. No matter how much Lord Ventrella paid, Vincent''s pockets were hurting from all these people that stuck around him, and dare say it, even might call ''friends''. Sure. The official story was how they investigated a ''goblin'' sighting and survived the attack. Right.


    "Ha! Told you they weren''t goblins!" whoops Yuna, laughing into the night.


    -Road Trip days till destination? (??/49)

 134 Explaining pre-puberty

    Today we look at employee case number 2, Abigail ''Abbey'' Molenaar, age 13. A working-class youth of average height and weight. No reported family history of disease, except for lung and breathing problems. Which is unfortunately normal in the profession of millers, from which she hails. Anxiety-related hyper breathing aside, today she is here for...


    "Hic! Hic! Ww-will-*hic* I d-d-die *hic* my lady? *huc*" the young girl hiccups, red in the face.


    Diagnosis: The same thing as Georgie,I suspect. A horrible case of... Puberty.


    "Fear not Abigail, your growing pains and new stretch marks are all perfectly normal for a youth of your age. This growth spurt is wonderful! You''re getting taller! Who doesn''t like that? The next few years may be quite strange and alarming for you, as your body slowly but reasonably goes from childhood to an adult. " I solidify my diagnosis.


    "*Hic* T-then, my-my lady. Shall I s-stay like t-this, fo-forever?!" she hiccups uncontrollably.


    "Don''t be silly Abbey, why you''ve hardly begun! You haven''t even started your monthly bleeding yet." I assure the poor ignorant little thing.


    "EEEEEEEEEPPPP!!!"


    The soap rooms are technically not an examination office, and definitely not a good standard medical facility. But it''s sanitized the best I can order and this is a private consultation between I, the uncertified but transmigrated Dr. Rosalia T. Ventrella, and my poor anxious but very useful little employee.


    She does after all keep care and track of both my skincare products and my food research. To be fair though, sometimes they overlap. Who else is so devoted and actually pretty minimal on the errors? I must treat her well and not let the horrible standards of this world corrupt her.


    "I-i-i d-d-don''t w-w-w-w-waaaaaaaaaaaaaana die!!!!" she sobs.


    "Calm down Abigail. It is something that all of womenkind must live with. Your mother bleeds, my mother bleeds, every maid above a certain age bleeds, why even an untreated dog bleeds. Every month!. "


    Abigail wails so hard she falls silent, choking on pure knowledge. Please no, breathe Abbey breathe!


    Life is hard when you''re too ahead of your time.


    "No one dies from just that. We usually die from infections or complicated childbirths" I explain as I calm her down.


    "I-In-Infection? The-the-pus and boils-? And ohhhhh *hic"


    "Bu-but my young l-lady. How c-can we speak of such....unclean...things." she squeaks.


    "If it was so unclean why does half of the human population ail from it? The very population that can bear children, and hold a womb?" I ask, knowing full well this conversation cannot happen with any less ....simple...a maid. While my family can and apparently will cover for my great abnormality, I can only get away with the genius excuse so far.


    "Menstruation is very natural Abbey, as painful and annoying as it is. Don''t worry. Do you trust me, your lady, to be the superior source? Or perhaps an old maid who told you to wear the ashes of a toad to ward off the evil blood and hide every full moon?"


    Old things I recall hearing before. The problem is how many poor women actually take these things as facts. Really now the line between superstitious and stupidity is very blurred. Perhaps public health is more concerning outside of the leprosarium.


    "Eeep! My lady! How did you know?!" my young and gullible little maid gasps.


    To be fair, most people would not even take the words of a toddler seriously. But am I just any toddler?


    "Abigail. Who. Am. I?!"


    "M-my young Miss! The honorable one and only eldest young Miss. Rosalia Ventrella! WIse beyond her year and leagues beyond us lowly ones. F-forgive me, I have not and shall never doubt you!"


    One day we shall do something about Abbey''s bowing the floor habit. It really won''t do for a maid of mine to behave so lowly and desperately. But for now, the reverence feels quite nice yes. Oh ho ho ho ho.


    A light crashing sound comes from outside, though I specifically told no one but Alfonso was allowed to bother the soap rooms.


    Thus we either have some very lowly ignorant thieves snooping around.


    Or, as someone who outranks everyone, mother is doing a very bad job crouching outside under the nearest window. Peeking out, we can see her nervously play with her fingers, her big brown cow eyes blinking up despite her size.


    Who does she think she is? Grampa? Sheesh.


    "EEEEP! M-my lady! What- How - however - I am not worthy!" the easily overwhelmed little maid peers, clamoring at the window. As if it were a door she could open and roll out the honored red carpet for.


    "Oh stop it Abbey and carry on. Let''s see to your stretch marks, hmm vitamin A. Maybe a coconut scrub, hmmm." I make to go back, ignoring the scene outside.


    "B-but-"


    "Nothing of concern Abbey, after all I don''t ever recall having such a UNLADY LIKE mother."


    I slam the window shutters back closed though an even greater sound crashes outside. Perhaps from someone falling over, taking down countless boxes and barrels with them in a ''boohoo'' like whimpering.


    I do not understand the strange creatures that seem to make up the members of this family. They''re as foreign as....well they''re just really strange and weird ok!?


    It appears that mother is still very upset over my cold shoulder of her? It''s not necessarily on purpose. I''m just a busy girl, and mother as the lady of the house is a busy woman under all this rennovation. But at the same time I don''t understand what''s all the big deal?


    Did this woman not essentially forget about me a lifetime ago. Why the hell is she so sticky and clingy now? It''s quite exasperating.


    I understand I complain about the differences between the treatment the original receives versus what I face quite a lot, too much so. But it really is a very jarring experience.


    It''s like downloading the cheat codes to a game, the entire walkthrough really. Only to realize you''re playing the updated version, and not only is some of this ''cheat'' off it''s messing up your entire gameplay!


    While I can somewhat try to make sense and overlaps of the man who plays my father, the mother character is extremely and utterly baffling!


    Senseless! Overpowered! Practically insane?


    How am I supposed to match up the delicate flower of society to this!? Who survives underground dungeon raids with a war hammer or jumping out of multi-story buildings and hot air balloons! How? How does one compute?!


    I mean sure mother always had a habit of breaking her tea cups and garden decor. And she''s clumsy so tripping through walls was normal. Our family commission plenty of murals and fresco cover-ups for the cracked and broken parts of our home but that was all grampa''s fault somehow and....oh god. Oh my god it was mother?!


    Yes, that makes much more sense. For sometimes grampa was not even in the home territory when another wall broke.


    Right. Let''s just focus on making a new product. Safe painkillers and aspirins are too....impossible, but more creams? With a focus on stretch marks? Oh what a market potential!


    Let''s not think too hard about all that mother likes hiding from me. None of that at all.


    "Bu-bu- but-" the little maid shivers, unable to fight against the call of duty.


    That and mother is making a very hard to ignore "boohoohoo"-ing sound outside.


    They are pitiful cries of a damsel in distress, most likely the emotional kind. A sound I am very familiar with, after all, I grew up with Lilyanne. I suppose my spoiled younger sister must have gotten it from somewhere and it''s definitely not from father.


    I sigh, for not only is my mother a crier, but my little maid is an even bigger one. It''s very contagious in her case. If I don''t get this early enough, the cry fest may never end.


    I crack open the wooden window.


    Yep. Mother is still whimpering in a ball down there, looking faint underneath my windowsill. She makes a woefully sorry sight of a woman in her prime, tearfully growing mushrooms in the dark corner. The mushroom darkness gets larger and larger as time goes on, strange mutterings sounding out from there.


    "...unlady like...unlady like...darling...darling you cruel fiend...darling...not a lady *sniff* so cruel *sniff* breaks so easy...not like I wanted to crush the ...boohoo...unlady like...why is she so much like her father then... he was so mean...but so cute...boohoo *sniff* not fair...boohoohoo...unlady..."


    There are literally depression mushrooms on the ground large enough to grill whole. How is she even doing that?!


    "Mother...please don''t grow mushrooms on my soap shed." I request in all seriousness.


    "*sniff* Is my little Rosa talking to mama again?" she tearfully pokes a mushroom circle, looking up at me like a gentle lamb to the slaughter.


    Me? The silent treatment? I would never dare do such a thing, this strange instinct that screams danger at me is usually active. But I have been getting away with quite a bit lately. All well deserved.


    But order to keep up with this increasingly cramp time schedule before I turn 5, and beyond, it would be best not to be torture murdered by my mother''s tears.


    That and father did warn me to stop ''bullying'' and worrying my mother. Which makes absolutely no sense! How can little old me do any of that?! He''s just being a fussy stupid doting husband.


    I, as a young useless little miss, am very busy and have much to do. Surely, the honorable lady of the entire house Ventrella has a schedule far more important than snooping outside warehouses and windows. All domestic matters of the property, especially in the expansion and reallocations of annexes and servents. Her own letters of business to see too. Orders of fall and winter prep to make, from food and energy stores to clothing literally everyone under our roofs and blah blah blah. All in the duties of a household''s lady. I bet there''s plenty of decorating fun to be had in the construction. Too busy in fact, to bother with something as mundane and worthless as me.


    Yet here we are.


    I stay silent for too many moments too long, and mother goes back to water the depression mushrooms with held back tears in her eyes. Apparently heartbroken outside my shed''s little walls. Dark creepy mushrooms aside, anyone else would be rushing up to such a sight. Ready to defend and violently beat up whoever dared make such a beautiful woman cry so pitifully. My past self on earth included.


    After all my mother is still such a young woman, and I do tend to be more sympathetic if not oddly protective of my own kind.


    What can I say, I''m sucker for such faces. Maybe that''s how J.J. or HengFei could always get away with such shit with nothing but some teary puppy dog pouts. God damn it.


    I take a deep breath, telling myself to do it for the money. Do it all for the money and the vague threats father presented me with. Gotta get on that nerd''s good side if I''m going to get any more good or info out of him. And that means pleasing the birthgiver....


    ...Goodbye power and dignity, hello death snuggles.


    "Mother, I am not ''not'' taking to you." I try to placate her, only to be met by those overwhelmingly large and imploring teary eyes.


    They''re very different than Lilyanne''s, despite being one and the same source.


    The resemblance is uncanny yes, the doe-eyed shape and thick lashes practically the same, but...there''s really so much missing.


    My lovely little sister has them lighter, a dollop and jarful of tantalizingly sweet honey melted in. Traces of pure gold. They sparkle like painted stars and radiate all the warmth that the break of the sun over the horizon can shine.


    As someone who has always had boring brown eyes, the memory of this foreign sister of this body, of Lilyanne''s endlessly praised beauty, every single little part, renders me mute. They were anything but boring. Enveloping in how much they seemed to express, how they seemed to shine and flutter when she bats her pretty lashes.


    But they don''t possess this certain feeling... Of drunkness?


    That''s what grampa makes me feel sometimes.


    Have you ever had a stout? Glasses of strong and dark beers, ales and everything in between, clicking in flights and fuzz. Like the aged oak barrels hiding under Gable''s celler, like the sugary bubbly rootbeer tinged with the aftertaste of forbidden mischief. So easy to lose yourself in the drink after drink. Before you know it you''re already laughing, floating, or hungover. Perhaps all of it at once.


    Mother''s too.


    They spill with my father''s favorite cognacs and brandies. Sweet as they are bitter, intoxicating from the refined scent alone, and oh so deceptively strong. Especially when served straight, neat. So pretty in their fancy bottles. Even a few drops can change a simple dish into divine. Let alone a glass down your throat, burning warm straight past your heart. Pooling in your now light limbs. Wrapping you up, leave you still wanting more.


    Such eyes scare me. They make me itch with a want I can''t even begin to make sense of, let alone identify. As if in need of a drink.


    They make me look, force me to.


    It hits me how I never got to look at my mother so up close. Not like this. If I wasn''t looking at her from a distance, her eyes were always closed. Another spell of fever, another day of bed rest. It''s strange. Currently, mother is much more energetic than I can get remember.


    Which is a good thing, don''t get me wrong. Yay for good health. So much health. But I really don''t know what to do with her?


    I don''t know what to do with myself.


    "Oh that''s still your upset face." mother bites at her lip, looking almost as lost as I feel.


    Yeah.


    I don''t really know how to stop it. Same as how I don''t forgive this mother of mine. For anything.


    It must be frustrating for her. Having a child as strange as me, for a firstborn none the less. But it will be fine. She''ll forget about it, about me, soon enough. She''ll move on.


    Just like her.


    "Rosalia? What do you want mama to do?...Will you feel better...if I really left you alone to play?" this foreign woman speaks to me.


    Her hair is very curly and shiny like copper coins. Her curves are beyond those of classic Greek statues and social media pictures worth millions of likes. She''s not a particularly tall woman, much taller than who I was. It''s a natural height that comes with the pigments in her skin and extra bones or whatever in her gorgeous face.


    She is not my mom.


    And even then, I''m dead. My own mother had never forgiven me and honestly maybe never will.


    My cheeks sting in phantom memories, making me clutch my face unconsciously. It doesn''t hurt I tell myself.


    Sorry for being so useless mom. Unfial or whatever. Sorry for being the wrong one. A mistake.


    It would have been better for her if she never married that man and vice versa. Better for her if I, and my brother, were never born. It would have been better if my parents had perhaps never met. A wrong match, the wrong person to share your life with, is far more of a burden than staying single. It drains you. It places an unpaid price on the kids that had no say or choice in any of it.


    I know. Heng Fei and I were their burdens, punishments, in our own ways.


    And when my parents finally, fucking finally, separated it was a painful relief. The kind that comes from cutting off a tumor from yourself, nerves and blood still pumping. The kind of desperation where you would rather jump than stay in a burning building, a hulking sinking ship.


    It felt like the greatest kind of fall. The divorce papers dry and faxed to all the right places. The ugly settlements and gaping debts that would never really be paid.


    It felt like being lost at sea. Left behind.


    No one really wanted me. Not after what I did. Not after what I shamefully did to them. I understand how they never forgave me. I''m the selfish kind of bitch after all.


    They wanted Heng-Fei, because he was a boy. A good boy. And just that was enough to make him fucking special. They wanted him when he was still healthy. Like it meant anything.


    In the end...weren''t we both just mistakes to be left behind?


    It doesn''t hurt but I deserve it. Because I can''t stop. I can''t stop being so damn stupid. So I deserve every bad thing that comes my way. It''s almost relieving, slaps me out of my own mistakes. I deserve every punishment. Every sharp white hit. Every insult. I deserved it all.


    ...Bullshit.


    "If I have to tell you, " trying to speak up, my tongue feels hard and dry. This awkwardly adorably young voice so high pitched, grating on my own ears "If I really have to tell you...then I don''t want it."


    "...Alright." the too pretty lady responds, nodding silently.


    Something feels stuck at my throat, though I swallow the same time I close the windowsill. It latches itself closed with a click, and that''s that.


    Abbey awkwardly looks between the window and me.already hopping my way back to the work table.


    "My lady?" she squeaks low, like a mouse hidden behind the walls.


    "That''s right Abbey. We have work to do. Yes. So much!" I clap myself out of it, trying to pull out the overly heavy ledger. Gotta get those supplies and notes out.


    I''m fine.


    It doesn''t hurt because it never hurt in the first place. Right? Besides, it''s long over with.


    I might not be Rosalia but I''ve obtained her memories. None of her will but all of her burdens. Thi


    I already learned my lessons from not just one but two lifetimes. Don''t get your hopes up. Don''t feel so much. Would have been so much easier if I just gave up earlier. Would have saved so much wasted time and effort if I just...gave up on them. My mom, my dad...


    It''s more of a burden than anything. Easier said than done.


    Can''t believe it took me dying and getting turned into someone else to realize that. Can''t believe I''m still not over it.


    Whatever.


    *CRACK*


    "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPP!!!!" screams Abbey, jumping to hide under the table.


    Not at me dropping the heavy oversized ledger no. But from our now...suddenly missing...door.


    "Oh dear!?" mother sweatdrops.


    Her hands are very busy balancing a very tall and stacked platter I assume was stolen from Alfonso. Thus, she is only left with a dainty silk slipper wrapped foot to....kick and slide the door out of the way. Like it was a dropped handkerchief and not...an entire wooden weighted slab. Right.


    "...Mother...what are you doing?" I raise an eyebrow. Trying not to make any further sudden movements say like a facepalm.


    "Oh Rosalia! Get down from there, standing on the table is not good manners at all. Certainly not." she runs over gracefully. Somehow setting down the platter without dropping a thing and grabbing me off into a proper seat.


    Chilled lemonade pours into a kiddy safe little cup with a handle right in front of me. Silver plates of hors d''oeuvres, much fancier than the usual kitchen snacks, sit innocently as they''re laid out onto the boorish work table.


    I think the mother is trying to bribe me with food.


    I blink at my cup in confusion. If it were anyone else I may even wonder if it was possibly poisoned with something. Like that time grampa mistook sugar for salt, bleh.


    "It''s not good to coop yourself up dear. Here here my baby lost some of her squishy, oh I just knew the food there wasn''t for my little lady''s tastes! Well...at least you''re not as picky as your father." mother signs to herself, picking little bites on a tiny plate.


    Devil dressed quail eggs, dotted and sprinkled with herbs and just a bit of spice. Summer fresh bruschetta, heavily topped with fresh tomatoes. Petite citrus grilled scallops, the appetizing scent almost overpowering the rest of the table. A colorful salad.


    I like a lot of foods, but these things I like more in particular in this world.


    I very much can brush off the coincidence of the menu. Something grabbed off the selection already prepared in the kitchens. But the extra cute plating is obviously extra effort on mother''s part. The careful way it''s spaced and set up, like how themed kid menus in restaurants have to be adjusted.


    But the visuals that take the cake, quite literally, is the flat but decadent crumbly almond cake. Topped with a floral cut of honey glazed peaches and berries.


    "Eat your food first before desserts Rosalia. Say awww~" mother pops a little quail egg in my mouth, distracting me from possibly starring starry-eyed at sweets.


    Oh yum. I''m so glad I forced the invention of mayonnaise. Wait when did I allow myself to be fed like a baby bird?! Mother I am no-


    Ooooh tomato bread. That goes well with what I already have in my mouth. I really like the bread of this world. So artesian rustic and savory, mmm. Oh yes, please. Munch munch.


    I suppose it is brunch time. Munch munch, mmmm I miss good food. The time at the outpost was really horrible on my pampered tastebuds. I hope they''ll be able to support themselves better off in the kitchens over there.


    I do not have to say anything if food just comes to my mouth.


    I do not have to speak up or comprehend how surprising this situation is. Or that the salad is drizzled with extra balsamic, just the way I like. It is easier to simply be fed like a little hamster.


    I''d rather not fall over in shock at the thought of mother watching me close enough to know my tastes to this extent. It can simply all be a coincidence.


    But I suppose this woman is trying.


    My tongue is too sensitive at this age, it still picks up a lot of bitterness that most adults don''t even notice. I can''t enjoy a lot of herbs or more pungent things as I did before, even if I do like salads or seafood.


    Maybe that''s why all these delicious things mother feeds me, taste a tinge bitter. At the back of my throat, the bottom side of my tongue.


    She''s never fed Rosalia like this. Me yes, but not Rosalia.


    Why?


    Why is she so affectionate now in this lifetime? Why for me but not her? Are we really all that different? What made Rosalia so unworthy, so unloveable, that her own mother never looked to her properly even as a small child?


    Somehow I overestimate in my bites, clamping down on mother''s hand. An embarrassing mistake. They are of course not very edible.


    I would never have gotten away with such a mistake before, simply because there was no situation where this could possibly occur. Mother hardly had times for her own matters. On days where both hers and Lilyanne''s heath were not of a concern, she would be off making social calls, maintaining ties, or simply catching up on duties. Then it was back to fussing with Lilyanne if she hadn''t passed out in a fever herself.


    Where would she have the time to look into my matters, let alone waste time hand feeding me.


    I unconsciously bite down harder.


    "Awww, Rosa. Mama''s fingers aren''t very tasty to chew. Bite control, open your jaw. Here this is how people how people and not wild animals do it-... Oh dear I never thought I would repeat those words..... How about we use the fork now?! What a convenient thing..., oh I do wish we had these back then..."


    "...I know how to use tableware on my own mother." I try to appropriately react to being infantized to such an extent.


    "Oh of course you do! Such a big smart girl, with tiny little arms, now say awww~. That''s it, chew slowly, as not to choke. We''re not ripping the lifeforce from the vulnerable necks of hunted pr- I mean! Everything is so cute and small and cooked so wonderfully, yes no choking! Never listen to your grandpapa on such matters! In fact no more animal planet! Oh whenever did he take you to to learn about bleeds?....Oh no, don''t mind me dear, drink your honey lemon Rosa love. It''s your favorite yes?" mother babbles nervously.


    It''s very awkward. More from my silence making it so.


    But she really is trying. The person in front of me is doing their clumsy version of trying. At what I''m not sure, but I don''t think either of us do. I guess I can admit that much.


    "Mother. It''s alright. You don''t have to do all this. I''m not really mad at you or anything. Even if I was, you don''t have to." I relent, accepting a sip and smacking my lips.


    "...Alright dear." mother nods, but still continues to airplane bite-sized servings of food in front of my face.


    "I mean it!" I chew.


    "Of course darling. Do you want more salad next? Hmm? Yummy yummy." the next fork comes.


    "Yes please with more radish- I mean no! I can -mppf"


    "It''s not lady like to speak with your mouth full Rosalia, it''s alright, we can go over this slowly. It can''t be helped. There there."


    Why do I get the feeling like I''m being treated like a horse with hay? Of course, my own horses get only the finest feeds with variety and seasonal selections. But essentially it''s the same.


    Ah, I never understood this woman. Lady or whatever mysterious thing I rather not know she is now. I probably never will.


    Same as everyone else in Rosalia''s life probably. Grampa and his crazy warning especially.


    Oh whatever, for now we''re all just trying. And that''s already something. It''s not....forgiveness, or anything like that. I''m not so blind as to forget the warnings Rosalia lived and died for. Even more so, I know best how easy it is for someone to turn when life doesn''t go their way. Not according to the picture-perfect plan.


    This maternal instinct of hers will fade away quickly. Once she figures out just how much of a mistake I am.


    But I guess I can take it for now.


    "Delicious?" the woman playing my mother asks, smiles and coos as I eat heartily.


    This lemonade needs to be Limoncello, but I cannot drink. There are not enough carbs at the table. The scallops need to be grilled hotter and longer for more of crispy skin and need a more suitable accompaniment. The vegetables on the bruschetta aren''t chilled enough to be truly refreshing. I would prefer another variety of salad in addition. There''s not a single cured meat or cheese dish here. Even if I don''t prefer them as much, how unbalanced of a table. The olives aren''t pre-pitted and the way mother peels them for me is a bit mushy and thus loses the deliciousness to lost texture. Plating is good for photos, very cute, but less points on delivery.


    "...It''s alright." I decide, being generous to the tailored kid''s meal.


    "Oh ho ho...this mouth...as lovely as darling''s....we''ll just have to work on it slowly, yes. " mother laughs almost threateningly. Almost.


    "Is it almost time for dessert? Is it mother?" I plead, even softening to show more of that cuteness I know she desires.


    Works like a charm.


    "Oh I suppose. It really can''t be helped." she sighs.


    Maybe in relief, maybe in exasperation. Either way, it''s time to slice that cake. How wonderful. I''ll think about all the implications of this time later, perhaps while digesting. Let''s just...stop hanging on too hard on what I already know. For now this is fine and sweet enough.


    The funny thing though is this really strange sense that I am forgetting something very immediate. But if I can''t recall, it surely isn''t that important.


    "Hmmm, I feel like I''m forgetting something obvious." mother talks to herself as she plates me a little slice, dolloping a bit of sweet mascarpone to the fruit.


    "? Only that little?" I feel like crying at seeing the baby portion.


    "Oh my, we ladies must watch the number of sweets. Mama hears it''s not good to have too much. Something about it reduces beauty!"


    "But...mama? It''s cake...."


    My cake, pile it on! Girls have a separate stomach for sweets. I'' ''m lacking it so bad here. There are already such limited options. Ah you should have seen the amount of chocolate I could down during my teen ye-...


    "....Mother. I believe we''ve forgotten my little maid. " I shamefully just recall.


    "Oh ho ho! So that''s what that feeling was! Yes the girl about to begin her bleeds. Oh I remember that strange and terrifying time. Papa of course was not sensitive enough to word things out to a young lady. To think he has already shown you a pack of female den wolves during the full blood moon. " mother happily claps to herself before growing ever the most distant and depressed in her terrifying memories.


    The both of us look down underneath the very table we sit at to find Abigail right where we left her. Still cowering on the floor and keeping quiet as a mouse.


    My bad.


    Please don''t cry Abbey.


    Have some bread? Cake? Don''t cry?! I promise we won''t leave you to a bloody pack of wolves when puberty hits you for an episode of animal planet. Really now! Trust me that''s not the norm at all. Who even does that?! That''s just messed up.


    Don''t cry!


    Mother? Help me please?


    Oh no mother not you too! Please don''t cry anymore!I don''t even have anyone around to blame. Stop crying, please? Cake?


    Yes, cake solves all. At least for us girls.


    ------


    ----------------------


    ---------------------------------


    Mini Bonus: Into the time machine.


    Ft pre-teen Maria and the woes of pre-puberty. Also a very awkward pair of dudes playing parents.


    Skippable yes.


    -----------------------------------


    -------------------------


    -------


    "You do know, Buttercup, that you will have to talk to you father eventually." Gable sighed, oiling and detangling another....bone...from the young girl''s lovely hair.


    It really was beautiful. The cascading ringlets, made of rich warm brown and golden hues, were something of the larger than life statue of an ancient forgotten idol in foreign lands south of here. They shined full with halos of summer and autumn, made other maids and maidens alike envious easily. All as long as one took proper care of it.


    As prettily as their Maria was blossoming, Gable misses the summers where they could sit her giggling down in a field of nothing and just...well as Ron would put it "shear her like goat!"


    "Never. Again!" the girl pouted.


    Not quite yet a maiden, but quickly and forcibly outgrowing the lines of childhood. It was a sensitive time for any youth, but girls more so apparently.


    Gable once again does something he would never admit to the man, defend Ronald.


    "He would never leave you alone. He was there in the bushes the whole time, watching over every process."


    "That makes it even worse! Boohoo..." she half shrieks, half cries.


    Really now. It wasn''t ....that bad. Honestly on this aspect Gable was much better than Ron. He didn''t think it would upset her so much when in the past Maria had taken to learning from the examples of nature more naturally than the sun rose or set in the sky.


    The little girl had known the beauty, and reality, of nature much longer than she has known of finely painted porcelain cups or those immoral lowbrow corrupting romance tales, told among nobles and commoners alike.


    What has the disgusting reaches of ''society'' done to their darling innocent little girl?


    Sure those ''romance'' books had got Maria''s literacy level to skyrocket from her previous lackluster efforts, but at what cost?


    They were, of course, absolutely banned not only in Gable''s home, but in any place Maria could possibly have access to. None. No more of that. But of all the contraband written material that existed in the world, could not one of them have medical text on the ...biological aspects of a growing young girl?


    "Boohooo! I don''t wish to grow any more hair, especially not fur! Nor bloat and bleed from anywhere! Not! I don''t wanna! I don''t want to turn into a monster every full moon that goes ...mate hunting...!" she sobs into her own hair, nearly bursting one of their, extra sturdy for this very reason, pillows.


    "You won''t grow fur or expand up to 7 times your body size. That''s not how humans develop. I promise that was not what we intended to teach you from the tribe of blood wolves. Only the monthly process."


    "I know it was all papa''s idea! All the worst things are!"


    Well....couldn''t deny that part.


    There were some very good things to come out of them admittedly. Wordly trips and adventures that most people would never even hear of in their lives, let alone go on throughout their childhood. Knowledge and development that the richest of the scientific community could only throw money at to get a morsel, all hand fed to Maria in more an amount she could ever possibly comprehend.


    But admittedly the craziest and worst things about Ronald''s, and admittedly Gable''s, untraditional upraising had plenty of effects on the girl. Including but not limited to her isolation from her status peers.


    To be fair, other noble children were terribly nasty things. Gable would know that best, for he was one once.


    "Oh it''s too late! All the other pretty fancy flower-like girls were right. They go to fancy lady school and balls while I go to a pack of wolves or worse. Oh, I''ll never be a lady. They''ll be romatnically courted and given flowers! I''ll be covered in pain and blood and I''m gonna have to chase down, hunt and bite mark someone to ever to marry me." the child sobs so.


    "No. Of course not!" Gable shushes her from that utter nonsense.


    Besides, it was far too early for her to be thinking of such things.


    Marriage? She barely sometime over a decade old! All the marks of a mere child. Who got her those horrible books, introduced her to the notion, in the first place?! Someone in the troops? Gable swears he''ll turn them all into flightless birds and throw them off the mountains to the wild descendent chicken pack outside the leprosarium.


    "And it''s all papa''s fault!" Maria still cries, for she really has a lot of pent of tears in there. They do keep her properly hydrated and stored on fats and energy. Just in case.


    "Well...." Gable starts, for she''s not exactly wrong. "How so?"


    They would work on it slowly. Processing. Talking out. As humans, and not wolves, do.


    "I''m too much like him! He gave me too much, but I''m a girl. And other girls aren''t as unladylike as me. And and-...."


    "What? What else is wrong Maria?" Gable immediately senses something deeper to that.


    Something he knows he won''t like hearing.


    "Freed''s new fiancee is so pretty.....not as pretty as him but....like...for a girl? She has skin like a boiled clean bone! Hair as flat and fair as stalks of drooping rice. They say she never''s never got a wound, not even a little cut, in her whole life. And and and she knows how to speak all fancy, even fancier than the last one. ...And she told him I''m too dirty to play with..." Maria drawls off, curling into herself.


    Oh.


    Well then. No big deal. They''ll just find out who this girl''s family hails from and send a freak series of storms, plagues, and inconvenient policies to their home.


    Oh wait.


    "Does your papa know about this?" Gable asks gingerly, hoping against his expectations to maybe hear no.


    It''s too much of a coincidence that Ron chose this time period to really get into ''work'' again. Specifically by ''blessing'' one particular tract of land with his inspection. There was no evidence of dungeons, monster invasions, or natural energy stones but Ron said it was a ''hunch'' and they had to uproot the area right away....


    Maybe Gable should pay a visit too, perhaps in disguise.


    "....I don''t know....I don''t care anyway. I''m never speaking to papa again! Only then can I rub off some of him and be closer to a real ''lady''. I can''t change my hair but I can do betters. That''ll show them. And then we can all play...together..." Maria crying was nothing new, the louder the better. That meant she was strong enough to cry, it''s when she grew quiet that they worried.


    "If anyone. I don''t care how ''fancy'' they claim to be, if anyone dares insult you in such a manner. You shall have nothing to do with them, for not only are they not good enough for you to bother with- they are the filthy ones. Filthy dirty corrupt souls. You don''t want to play anyone who treats others like that. You''re far too noble, look. " Gable instructs, twisting and pinning the ties of braids into place. Pulling out and sparkling reflective brush in the air so she could see herself.


    No updos, not yet, not for a long time. She was just a little girl. A strange and sensitive one, almost new in her slow but expected growth, but oh so lovely for that. So the childish half-crown, and twirls of laurel flowers in her hair, suited her more than well.


    "...It really is a lovely new dress." she sniffs, feeling just a bit vain. Just a bit less like ''dirty'' or whatever it was they called her. They all meant the same thing, wild and unlady like. Maria knew that much.


    "Well since you''re not talking to your papa, I guess I''ll have to tell him you do like this style."


    "....who gave it him? Papa doesn''t know how to pick out things. " Maria frowned again, pouting herself full of hot air.


    At this particular moment, she was having even more upsetting flashbacks to her youth. Ahhhh to be so old and wise now, she can''t stop flushing in shame at the days her dearest papa would let her roam naked in the rivers, cliffs and plains. In fact, he thought it was all the better. To "build up resistance"!


    Only by watching papa get yelled at and berated repeatedly by not only Gable but others in the troops, did a younger more foolish Maria slowly come to understand it just wasn''t normal for children to be naked or in nothing but a hunted loincloth all the time.


    If she thinks back specifically to many times in their childhood that Biccheriri boy raised a perfectly pretty eyebrow but said nothing at all to her about it...well she feels like dying.


    She doesn''t know why it gets all the worse if she thinks Frederick might come to find her distasteful, no dirty, but it makes her starts crying again. This time even quieter. She''s still such a crybaby, even though she''s already so grown. It wasn''t fair.


    Was he going to marry that pretty boiled bone girl and never come play with her again? Was it because she smelled like wolves or chickens or whatever it was? Was it because she going to grow into a bloody monster every month?


    It all really wasn''t fair.


    "Well...technically she''ll turn into a ''monster'' as well. If that''s your definition. All women go through bleeds, as do many females in other species. That was the point of taking you to see see the blood wolves ritual." Gable responds easily to the mumbling woes that come out from under Maria''s pitiful little cries.


    "....WHAT?!" she screams.


    Ah strong lungs. They were still good.


    "All. Women. Bleed. After a certain age, you will do so every month. Of course not to the extent of the blood wolves but, every maiden you have ever met does so. It''s nature." Gable awkwardly states out.


    Maybe he should have just listened to Ron''s first idea? Wait no, Gable takes that back, taking her to the brothels because ''Those girls know a women''s body the best! Much more so than those quack doctors that think jumping up and down prevents pregnancies''. There are many things Gable is willing to suspend all his known beliefs and knowledge for when Ron says it. But others are just too questionable. Prostitutes being better authorities than doctors could just be one of them, but he''s not letting Maria step foot anywhere near there.


    Just look at what romance novels did to her already?!


    "Subtle is not one of your forte''s dear. Your papa and I....both...yes both of us...thought that ...well blood wolves were the most obvious examples. Trust they''re not the ...cleanest...creatures. "


    "They were exploding in blood and fur howling at the moons Gabbey! Why do girls have to do that? Do Men?! Do you!?!!"


    "....No."


    "OH, IT''S NOT FAIR! Noooooo! I don''t want it! Booo hooo!"


    He lets her cry, for there is really nothing to say to that. Just because it''s natural did not mean it was quite fair. Once again the Ventrellas have quite the knack of saying things that weren''t necessarily wrong, odd as they were.


    "So...um...it''s not...all your papa''s fault. And. And he ....*sigh* he does try. You know that. He''s awful, absolutely a wild beast at times, can''t get him to act civilized if he doesn''t feel like it, can never predict a single thing from him but trouble.....but he does....love you...and try. "


    For god''s sake that''s why they built a damn strange villa out of an ancient temple''s ruins. For Maria. For Ron''s reputation too yes, but all for Maria. It was a very strange sort of home. Gorgeous yes. Impressive and never before seen, as was often Ron''s style. It felt oddly ancient, in a reverently imposing way. And somehow that villa was only getting bigger.


    Yes. You may call Gable a hermit or any of the sort but he still preferred his humble moving cabin in the woods.


    "Papa doesn''t do it right!... But I don''t know how to do it right either..." Maria looks down. Feeling that odd swirl of negative emotions she doesn''t know quite what to do with.


    It all makes her so frustrated, but if she gets too mad things go breaking, and she doesn''t want to do that anymore. She''s grown now! Practically the age of a lady! Not a child with a monstrous tantrum.


    "Alright...I''ll talk to papa again when he comes back home...I''m no better...." Maria pouts, knowing her wrongs. Even if she''s still too puffed up mad about her father''s.


    "He''s been back." Gable points out to the window, rolling his eyes and sighing when Maria practically hops over and out.


    "...WHAT?!!! Papa!? Oh papa what are you?! You can''t just! Were you really here to whole time?! I''m a lady now and you''re not allowed to crouch under my windows! Oh papa don''t look so sad, papa? What is all this? "


    When Gable puts away the combs and pins, vanity table ever getting fuller of stuff, he looks out to see not only the strongest, strangest, most foolish and oddly...dare he say it, loveable, father-daughter pair. But wagons and wagons of...stuff.


    "You wouldn''t believe it baby girl~ Oh and you did so well, didn''t faint at all against not one but two warring packs of blood moon wolves- and all without your hammer too! SO-" the man below starts to explain, spinning his still pouting daughter into his arms.


    "Ahem." Gable calls from the window. "Ron. Explain. Now. "


    "Gabe! remember that hunch I found in that one family''s noble territory! Ahaha turns out they were some embezzlement and a bit of an underground kidnapping and se- err other illicit things going on! So we saved the day and confiscated all this property to pay reparations and redistribute!! Ahhhh, Maria look look, papa''s really bad that lady stuff so I just grabbed absolutely everything for a ''lady'' around your age! What a coincidence! "


    "Oh papa I don''t want the stuff of a girl from such a bad family! Kidnapping!" Maria gasps in her father''s arms. Oh, such a thought.


    "But lookie, shiny." Ron offered specifically at the pretty luxury items indeed in the trend for a girl about Maria''s age range.


    The dresses were a bit too large for her still but it didn''t stop her eyes from sparkling.


    There were so many shiny things. One of Maria''s weaknesses, as evidenced by her barely held back squealing. From delicate jewels to furniture. It looked like they robbed and raided a noble''s household blind, specifically the rooms of any young ladies of the place.


    Gable sighed and Ron cheered when Maria smacked her papa in a crushing kiss and hug, then scampered off to explore the treasure chests just for her.


    Well, at least they didn''t have to worry about shopping for her the next season.


    They spoiled her. Too much so.


    "Do you not know the definition of restraint? Hmm Ron?" Gable poked and prodded.


    "Wasn''t all me. Their alliance sold them out, full records, then it was easier than acid cleaning an outhouse with a level 7 mutant beetle orgy. " Ron shrugged.


    Gable rolled his eyes at that.


    "Let me guess. The Bicchieris. And the youngest soulless boy of theirs lost his betrothed match. Again. " the not as fun parent stated. Not questioned. Stated. The signs of prediction all there in place.


    "Yep. They''ll just get another one. Pity the poor girl that''s next. Hey, how do you always know? You literally do not leave the house, but damn do I find what''s inside attractive. It was also kinder of me to get to them first before you go storming in, though you are amazing when you''re really mad. Ow. Ow, Gable put down Maria''s brush down. That thing is sharp! "


    "Exactly. When was the last time we cut your hair? Ron? Ronald? "


    "Oh ho ho ho Gabbey look! Look at this one! Oh it''s so pretty! Does this suit me? And papa, I can''t open this chest without breaking it! Papa help? Please papa! Pretty please papa!"


    One day this little girl would grow up.


    She would cry and struggle, and she would grow. Perhaps, hopefully, strong enough to leave their strange hazard of a nest. One day she may even raise one of her own. Have a child, a family, children in the plural sense?


    One day both Gable and Ron were going to have to come to accept that and move on with their lives. The same way tides of the seasons unexpectedly brought them all here. It was going to be a disaster. It already was.


    But today is not that day. It won''t be coming for a long time. Not for them. That is more than enough.


    ---------

 135 Dont-

    "Oh dear no! Rosalia, do not jump out the window young lady! Oh Gabbey was right..." mother holds me back from throwing myself out the still-moving vehicle.


    Thus she cannot blame me for being so rude. Blehg.


    I no longer have shame. Not when it comes to carriages and this wretched curse called motion sickness. There is not much to spit up, as I tend to starve myself ahead of time on trips involving moving vehicles. But cough and spit up I do. It cannot be helped. I am a small child. Everything hurts so intensely.


    Even my tummy aches hurt more! Kids are just so damn sensitive!


    The story of my life in the tutorial stage of this sad game is still not going any faster, only weirder. I don''t know if this is a good or bad thing.


    It is very interesting to note though since as an adult I swore time goes by too quickly. One deadline flowing into another, a season come and past even if a work day feels impossibly long.


    Being a kid, however, makes everything feels like forever!


    Hey, how long have I been narrating to myself? Am I really only still a three year old? Am I really stuck in this carriage still? Blurp. Yes. Yes I am.


    "Why couldn''t I go with the horses? Or the balloon!" I bemoan.


    "Rosa icky! Heehee." my sister laughs at my despair. How kind and generous of her.


    Next time she gets sick I shall return the favor. I shall sit there, eating grapes and cheese, clapping like the villainess I am for her to suffer more. More! More suffering! Suffer for my amusement!


    Blergs. *hic*


    Eventually, though it feels like an eternity, the carriage does pull up to a rise up a slope and an eventual turn to slow and stop after passing another gate. Finally arriving not just to the hot spring town, our resort, but to our actual specific temporary place of residence. Set up and prepared ahead of time for our scheduled arrival.


    Curse father''s stupid schedules, let me out of this thing.


    "Paaaaaaaaapaaaaaaaaaa!!!" my sister cries, apparently spying said parent from out the window.


    "Lilyanne no! No jumping through. Oh my, where do you two learn such bad habits?!" mother''s other arm reaches out before my sister goes charging out herself.


    To that, my sister pouts and puffs like a balloon, squinting at mother while being held back by the back of her dress collar. I equally give mother a weak and dying look, unable to do a thing more.


    Hello pot? Have you met kettle?


    I must be wary to prevent these bad habits from truly gripping me. The strangest and worst genetics of this body already so prominent. It must all be grampa''s fault somehow.


    Mother tidies us up, waiting for the proper escort and unloading, but I really can''t take it anymore.


    "Papa....save me....papa~" I cry, feeling fainter and no less ill though we''ve stopped. It only gets worse with every passing second.


    *slam*


    Air! Fresh air and solid ground right outside! Oh sweet blessed ground! I can''t jump from windows but the doorway is fair game. So close.


    I weakly had thrown myself off and was so close to my beloved solid ground when an evil force block the way snatches me up, shaking me even further. Causing an unconscious and terrible urge to cry pass through my tiny frame despite the familiar somewhat comforting scent of the paternal character.


    But curse this body! It''s such a cry baby!


    How dare he?! How dare father intercept! I shall cry even harder then.


    The private courtyard to our rented resort rooms is of course quite busy. Not as much as the previous hotel, but it ranges from the servents to the stablehands, and all manners of those who dutifully follow after and carry out father''s plans. Work never ends with that man.


    So thus, I shall shame him even more in front of everyone. Crying horribly and shamefully all over his person. Take that!


    Can your pride stand such a blow?!


    "There now Chip. I got you. What a time you must have had. Did you behave for your mother? Did you really miss me so terribly? It''s all better now." father pats at my back, holding me like I was a three month old in need of a burp.


    "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw" sounds out the witnesses, misunderstanding this cruel play.


    Oh for shame.


    "Darling? What did you use to tell me? Is this not proper?" mother tsks as she steps down, holding her head up high with a miffed expression.


    "Papa!" Lilyanne clumsily toddles to cling and clamor up father''s leg.


    Her climbing skills fall short though at past the knee though, where father then has to lean down to assist. Lifting her up with me, much to her giggles and approval. Unlike my ugly ill cries, Lilyanne is the very picture of a sweet and adorable girl, cuddling up or possibly scent-marking my father with her neck.


    Strange. I shall blame grampa and all the times he took us to see real life animal planet this summer.


    "Forgive me, my love. How is a man supposed to stand by at such a cry?" father balances to two of us, using us as squishy baby shields against mother. As if our cuteness could buffer out his next rude statement.


    "If anything, they''re disturbing the peace. What would people think of why they cry so? For dear rescue and salvation? From what nightmareish beast possibly?" he makes it all sound quite frightening yes.


    How romantic. Mother obviously agrees with me by showing her displeased stare.


    "Hmmpf. Very well then, Frederick dear. You may save our girls by carrying them entirely, and my bags, to our rooms. No need to bother the servents, for what would they think?!" she walks off with a huff. The sun gleaming on the sparkly silver embroidery of her silky peach dress, something that compliments her complexion rather well.


    The shiny makes it easy to follow along, which is apparently what we''re stuck doing.


    "...Yes, my love." father replies, acting ever the whipped husband.


    "I expect the girls cleaned, dressed and put to bed for their nap. No strange business of whisking them away in any pocket of your coat? Oh what would people think, best you do it all yourself." she lists off, walking straight as the servants'' bow, clear the way, and do absolutely nothing to save father.


    "No, my love. What you say, my Maria. " father agrees, readjusting his grip on the increasing amount of stuff he''s stuck carrying along with not one but two toddlers.


    "In fact, I feel faint myself. Such rides, and the heat, do tire me so..." mother takes off her hat the moment we step inside.


    When she fails to find a rack or maid to immediately take it away, she throws it on father''s head instead. As if her were a walking rack.


    Lilyanne seems to find the whole thing rather amusing. Reaching up to try and blind this foolish father of ours with the floppy hat. How we have not gone crashing, even past stairs is a great mystery.


    "Your resort, and its springs, have been seen to. No ugly inconveniences, I made sure of such. Please, enjoy to heart''s content my dear fair wife. " he continues to be left with no choice but to follow along.


    "Hmmm, a bath at this hour? How luxurious. But I shall have a spot of tea, and perhaps a restful nap first. " mother taps in though, throwing off her gloves once we enter into the minimally but tastefully furnished suite, the bedroom just in sight beyond the doorway.


    "Of course, how thoughtless of me. " father agrees.


    He could just throw us down a couch, even the bed, along with mother''s bags, and make an escape for it. But no. For he likes to suffer apparently, after all that is the only conclusion I can make on how he even married the woman that is my mother in the first place.


    "Oh do pour it for me, darling. I simply can''t lift another finger. " with a dramatic swoon, mother falls to a conveniently cushioned fainting seat. As if greatly fatigued from giving orders.


    "Yes dear, I with my invisible metaphorical extra limbs, shall care for all your needs and wants. My greatest regret is not seeing to it before you inconvenience your two gracious lips to speak it to existence. "


    I feel like crying even harder.


    Especially so when father leans down, looking absolutely ridiculous, to place a quick kiss on the woman still pretending to be mad at him. I cry into his chest and Lilyanne curious hands patting my side. I cry for this all to be over with!


    Close the door and flirt elsewhere! There are children present! I am a child!


    I was wrong mother! I''ll never call for father like that again. I''ll be a good and proper lady that suffers silently in the barf machine, perhaps spitting up more on your expensive dresses instead...but I''ll be good otherwise.


    Just stop this disgusting torture!


    "Oh dear. The girls. The tea. And then...my bath. Remember dear, to do it all personally~" mother sweetly smiles from her lounging seat, perhaps reaching for her fan to laugh evilly behind it..


    "Of course my love, it is my honor to serve."


    Bullshit! Serve me the way out of here!


    Thus I stay very very very good when father finally sets us down for bed. Like a good servant boy, he sets out water, cleans our hands and faces, asks us lightly for any other needs. I don''t even cry when he undresses and redressed us into nighties. Not a single complaint of shame or anything of the sort.


    I play very dead and nice when father tucks us into the clean sheets, relents to Lilyanne''s demands of goodnight kisses, and finally, god damn finally, closes the door.


    There is exactly one second of sweet peace and relief. All before a great series of crashing and mother''s out of breath laughing sounds out from outside. Oh god, NO!


    "Personally?"...another crash and horrible sound, "Then is it your turn dear wife?"


    "Hmmm, yes. *smooch* Yes oh please, do save me from all my pains and suffering."


    "What first my love?"


    "My dress will do~"


    "MAKE IT STOP!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"


    I cry into the pillow, so much so even poor Lilyanne sits up to comfort me. Patting my back with a "there dere Rosa".


    The door creaks back open, mother peeking her head in with a diabetic sweet smile. Her hair slightly askew and the top of dress mysteriously already loosened.


    "Oh hoho~ What''s wrong? Do my cute little girls, in much need of their naps, need anything further? Oh I should have known your papa couldn''t quite handle it... "


    From outside, the nerd makes a sound of annoyance.


    "NO!" I cry, cowering.


    Please just close that door and go away, far far away.


    "Mama! Rosa got scared! Mama nap wit us!" my sister stupidly waves her arms out, as if in need of a disgusting hug.


    "Absolutely not. Go to sleep." At this moment father is the one who peeks his head in. Blank faced with a very clear rejection.


    But how could mother fight off the call...of cuteness!


    "Mama! Lily wanna nap wit mama...." she cries, stretching her little arms out.


    "No no no do not." I try pulling her back, failing to control the shivers that wreck my little body.


    "And Rosa too, pwease mama?" she tearfully blinks up.


    "No!" I cry for very different reasons.


    Father pales even before the great squealing begins, all of us knowing mother is already broken.


    "Kyaaaaaa!!!~ kyaa kyaa too cute!~ Of course my babies!"


    Impressively she somehow drops and throws off all her outer clothing at light speed, flinging them at the human coat rack that is father all before she dives violently into pillows and sheets where we lay.


    "Yay! Yay mama! Lookie Rosa! Now sleepies." Lilyanne cheers over mother''s sudden cuddles, looking to me as if expecting praise.


    I turn over with my pillow, cursing her silently in my head. I stay limp as mother, in nothing but her silk chemise, crushes and rubs us silly in her love of cuteness before retucking all of us in.


    "Shoo shoo now darling, I temporarily release you. " mother waves a hand at the doorway.


    "...Maria...you can''t be serious." the talking clothes rack complains in a deadpan.


    "Thank you for your service. Close the door. Then prepare my bath for later. Time for a lady''s nap now. Good day to you." she plops down with us cuddled on either side, sheets and all. Completely ignoring the nerd she called husband to blissfully fall asleep first.


    Mother? Mother? I slap at her to no avail. This woman is legitimately asleep?! How!?


    I almost feel bad for father. Not really. But almost.


    Well, at least the grossness stopped. Time for a good nap indeed.


    -------------------


    --------


    Every time I am forced to spend any sort of time traveling, my next sleep time is usually as long and deep as a magically zapped out Lilyanne. That or when grampa has too much wine for lunch and takes an extra siesta right after.


    I''ve outslept everyone!


    Mother and Lilyanne are gone, while the peeks of light beyond the curtain fading to almost nonexistent.


    "Oh my young miss, you''re up!" Abbey sets aside the items she was unfolding out from luggage to address me. Coming right up to my bedside to pour me a cup of water.


    I don''t love the gaggle of maids as much as Lilyanne, nor do I need them. While my mother''s own maids intimidate me in ways I can''t find enough evidence to prove yet. Secret guards, I swear. So it was the reasonable wise choice to take my own personal maid to attend to me.


    Especially so since Georgie isn''t here.


    I sigh at the inconveniences faced without him, but it is good to take Abbey out once in a while. Expand her horizons. Give her some more experiences under my service beyond the villa. This particular trip won''t be very long, away from the mess of construction at home. So it''s fine to just lock up all my research and inventory.


    "Yes thank you Abbey, what have I missed?" I sip, wetting my dry throat.


    "Oh um, well -yyoung Miss Lilyanne is out to play and have dinner outside with your honored grandfather."


    "What?!" I spit back out my drink.


    Grampa''s here too?! When? Why does that crazy old man come with no warning or schedules? He just shows up as he pleases.


    And he left me here? How dare he.


    "Y-yes. It-it was insisted by-by the Lord and Lady that- y-you rest as you needed my y-young miss."


    It can''t be helped, my motion sickness is famous after all.


    "Fine. So be it. I am very awake now. " I wave off, handing back the water and stretching the sleep from my sore little limbs and muscles.


    Hmmm, shall I take a dip in the hot springs here?


    However I am quite small, I can only go with aid. No matter how shallow the pools. Oh and there''s always the public ones. As a pampered noble from such a family, I''ve never stepped foot into those. How interesting it would be to see. But I also don''t know if a child''s body enjoys them as much as my older self.


    "A-and...y-your mother....um...the lady is....um, occupied to the baths?"


    "No need to say it any further, Abby! I understand a married couple needs their alone time, without any pesky children involved. I will of course, not even dine with my family tonight." I grimace at her words.


    Ignore it, Rosalia. Just ignore it girl. Gross couples will be gross.


    I had no problems handling them at the bar, or around my social life. In fact, it''s even fun, in some sick gaudy way, to match people together.


    But why are these two just so extraordinarily disgusting?!! Is it because they''re this body''s biological parents? Sheesh. Way to make my motion sickness worse with their grossness.


    "...I- beg pardon my-my young miss?" my little maid honestly looks very lost and confused. As if there''s a code of mine she''s failed to memorize, let alone understand.


    "Ah my mistake, Abbey. Yes please keep your clear good innocent mind as such for as long as possible." I pat at her hand.


    Oh such a sweet summer child. So naively good. I can''t recall a time I was ever like that, in any lifetime.


    Can''t be helped. I have been exposed to too much internet. Oh how I miss the ye old internet. Such a distantly fond memory.


    "What else?" I wave, allowing the maid to continue her updates as I get up to dress.


    "U-um, the t-traning t-troops unit with Georgie has a-arrived!"


    "Oh, how wonderful." I clap, admittedly sounding a bit like mother.


    My assistant is back! Life is admittedly much more convenient with him around. Something I failed to appreciate when he was. But it was a very suitable punishment.


    No putting strange things into my food or drink without my full knowledge and explicit permission.


    My little assistant is not Alfonso, who would at least announce serving me sleeping or headache medication. Of course, that was for an older and much busier Rosalia, in occasional need of the painkillers. Not me, the toddler.


    "B-but he won''t be returning u-until the n-next next day? I believe they''re celebrating.... o-outside a-at a ...d-drinking establishment."


    "Georgie''s at a bar?! Without me?!" I gasp at the thought.


    What is this? What happened to the torture -err I mean discipline that was meant to be instilled to him?! But then again, with that section of trainees, he is with a rowdy bunch of mostly young men...Oh dear.


    "E-eep! F-forgive me, my-my young miss. I-I could n-not stop them!" Abbey immediately bows, trembling the way she does around intimidating strangers.


    So she must have ran into them?


    "It''s alright Abby...however...did you or did you not catch the address of where they''ll be?" I ask curiously.


    The wheels in my head are already turning. My sister is out of the equation, taken out by my grampa. According to my previous travel history, I am expected to be out for the rest of the evening. As if my parents weren''t pro-occupied enough. No this is even better. The usual staff isn''t around to guard after me. The stars are all aligning for me.


    "Um...I suppose, yes..." Abby begins to answer nervously.


    "Let''s go."


    "Eeeeeep! B-but-"


    Apparently, those were the words she feared. Oh, this poor shy thing.


    "Oh ho ho Abigail. We must not only welcome back Georgie but ensure his safety. Besides. If even my cute delicate little sister is out on the town. You wouldn''t lock me, your poor pitiful lonesome young miss, to dine and cry on my lonesome here?"


    "o-of course not my y-young miss. B-but.."


    "But of course, you fear the sense of things. How do we get out of here safely, let alone me? Well, worry not Abbey."


    Sometimes it''s better to act than talk. This is a limited time frame, a chance deal. Only available right now.


    In my baggie, I hold a secret weapon. ...A disguise!


    Short hair, short legs, short little sleeves and an adorable little hat, all together I make. A cute little sailor suit kiddy! Minus the sailing. The Rosalia edition. Oh wait, not Rosalia, no for I am passing off as a little boy now.


    "A-amazing!" Abby applauds at my transformation.


    "Oh ho ho isn''t it? Like this, no one will know I am a young miss at all." I huff up my chest and adjust my little ties.


    Can''t be looking too expensive now, wouldn''t want to be kidnapped.


    "Listen to my orders Abigail. You shall be running ''errands'' and stopping by to deliver a message to Georgie. I, a mere guest of a little boy, by chance happens to accompany you. Now off you go to get permission, I shall climb out the window and meet you by oh say one of the lanterns by the doorway. Off now!"


    "-N-not that I would ever disobey my -yyoung miss but-"


    "Off!"


    "Eep yes!"


    I watch as my little maid scampers off. Then look down at myself. Hmmm yes I see her point, I am just too cute. Eat your heart out ladies. Let''s scruff myself up a bit more, look a bit poorer. Oh no, I am still just too adorable as a boy.


    Can''t be helped. These tragic good looks in chubby toddler form are such a curse as they are a blessing.


    I wait and prepare the best I can. Timing myself appropriately. All before climbing out the window. Oh ho ho, all those past sneaking around practices with the boys sure are paying off.


    Huh? I should check up on the status of the other minion sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow? Make sure he''s not being poisoned or abused to death again. Something like that? Great history on that kid. And he won''t stay still under anyone''s watch either? Really now the hell is he doing running around? At his age? What a concerning child.


    Too bad child protective services don''t exist here. I know a different world means different standards but seriously. Who thinks it''s okay to let little kids go off on grand adventures and dangerous missions?


    Is it the money? Hmmm yes, money does make the world spin.


    In my thoughts and hopping out the courtyards, the lantern lights in my area suddenly go out. Not creepy at all.


    "What the hell?" I mutter, talking to myself to ease the fear.


    Nice almost darkness. No ghosties here. Nope. Look there''s the setting sun! I will not turn back, I will not turn back, this much can''t scare me to turn back!


    A bar-eerrr I mean Georgie is waiting for me.


    And so I continue along, waiting fearlessly for my late little maid. The figure of her mousy dress ans shawl tripping over nothing eventually appearing before me.


    "My-my y-young miss, I-I''ve been t-told can catch a deli-livery wagon to t-town." she huffs before me, tired out.


    "Ahem. No Abbey. I am not your miss tonight but onwards, we are losing daylight." I gesture to my disguise, calmly walking along.


    "B-but then, what d-do I address my y-young miss as?"


    "Hmm let''s think about it once we catch the wagon. Onwards Abbey, we haven''t a spare moment to lose. "


    A tad confusing of a route but all delivery and loading docks somewhat look the same. It''s a bit rocky, and risky, to be taking another vehicle today but that is precisely why I did not risk eating any snacks or supper. There are no seats but some messy stacks of hay, but the open air of a cooling late summer evening is quite refreshing, as is the lovely sky of orange melding into a pre-nighttime purple.


    The changing of the seasons is approaching. Sometimes I hardly noticed as an adult in another world. Too busy to really appreciate that most days.


    Well except for the whole addition of pumpkin spice flavored everything.


    Sometimes though, we''d try.


    Orchard picking is best in summer and fall, and for some reason, not only Jung-Joon but his entire family misunderstood I particularly liked that kind of shit. Bleh, car rides there were the worst. But it''s fun in its own way. Even better if horses were available for rides. Kind of romantic I admit, especially with only two people, but absolutely wasted on me.


    Also, fun as groups! Pumpkin picking is loads more enjoyable, and delicious than say selecting another holiday tree.


    Those boys would carve the stupidest shit in them as Jack o'' lanterns though, my own brother no exception. Did they have to make it into an annual competition? Really now?


    Ah, it''s been so long.


    "Have you ever been to bar Abby?" I ask my little maid over the noisy rolling of wooden wheels on cobblestone stone roads.


    "A bar?" the mousey girl repeats questioningly. Her shakey but deft hands trying to neaten and re-tie her two long braids.


    "Wine bar. WIne house. Tavern. Pub. Brewery. Whatever variation of the name." I adjust my hat, definitely not feeling for the hair that''s not there. Well, at least there''s something growing in, and I''m not entirely buzzcut bald.


    "Um-um sometimes, back then I- would accompany my-my father or br-brothers. Um-um sometimes I-I would go to-to tell them it was time to c-come home t-too. I-it''s a little e-expensive but a very warm and l-lively place. I-I don''t think l-like wine or ales much. They''re very b-bitter. " my little maid tries to recall.


    Different world, different standards. Plenty of pubs and wine houses around that act more like general restaurants and eateries. Children might not exactly be advertised as welcome but it''s no problem to give them a seat and a bite to eat with their parents.


    A problem might be that a standard drinking age technically doesn''t exist. It really varies per place.


    Of course, though, no one would serve a child as young as me.


    Not that that was my plan or anything. Sheesh, I''m not that bad, not like the alcoholic old man. I just maybe want to see, smell...have just a little fun.


    It''s awfully stifling to always be attached and watched over by at least one of my family members. Seriously it''s always either grampa, father or mother. The only blessed exception is when I''m under Gable''s stern supervision.


    Hey Miss. Original, are you happy now? I can''t even get them off my back.


    It won''t be forever. In fact, it won''t be very long now when the wheels of time really start turning, and this odd overprotective peace time ends. But for now?


    The breeze just feels so nice traveling on my own. With my little maid of course.


    Oh ho ho ho how exciting!


    Even though the seat is literally a pile of hay, I silently ''ooo'' and ''aahhh'' like a comfortable tourist, sitting up high above all the sights of the streets. As the sun sets, magical and oil fueled fire lit lanterns line the streets. Cobblestone and old romantic architecture, summer rich flowers and draping ivy. It holds all the atmosphere of any Mediterranean resort town too. So extra pretty in it''s natural simplicity.


    I bet a honeymoon-worthy place like this would break the bank trying to plan a trip to in another world. How dangerous. I must enjoy to the limits of my parents'' money! If that exists? Oh ho ho let''s test it out.


    Luckily for my little maid and I, the delivery wagon takes us not only through the open town square and adorable flower bush filled residential hills but closer to the outskirts of the ''nice'' town. Where the commoners and actual locals live, conducting their daily business.


    Ah yes, the authentic travel experience. Where the best kind of fun and food is! My traveling tourist senses are tingling.


    You can''t tourist trap me and scam my money, even if I am rich now!


    It really is very exciting. I never really got to travel alone before. It always with someone. Sharing with another group of friends to save time and money. Pushing along my little brother and his video camera. I even shamefully tagged along with another family on their trips back to Asia.


    Ah but how could I resist? The temptation is too much, even without J.J. begging me with puppy dog eyes.


    Even for official business trips when I got older, it''s usually with my manager Yao or another couple of co-workers. Never by myself.


    Well...except for that one time? It really was a big pain in the ass to book that event job in Paris. I worked my ass off to just get the chance. It was supposed to be with Yao too. But then I took off two week ahead of time to enjoy myself first! ...That and plane tickets were much cheaper then.


    I don''t think that really counted though?


    Since I was alone for exactly one plane ride, and one train trip. But that was my fault, since I chose to buy a damn rail ticket, and pop in to bother him during his stuides. It was only supposed to be for a little bit, not my entire vacation before work. Should have known Jung-Joon wouldn''t leave me alone after that.


    Ah my bad. Should have known.


    "Guess where I am now?" I remember snickering on the phone.


    Despite the summer hot sun radiating down, burning up the pavement and making everything feel like the inside of tableware I felt a little too numb and giddy at my carefully kept prank.


    It was a really fun prank of a trip though...even if I got sunstroke the first day.


    Oh hoho okay then! Enough embarrassing thoughts!


    "My y-young miss, are you feeling unwell?" Abbey makes to feel my too warm face.


    Something I wave her off on. I''m rather reasonably fine even, this slow open-air wagon ride not as bad for my motion sickness as it could be. I enjoy the breeze and acting like another unknown, lost in the mysterious mood of a lovely new place.


    Eventually, Abbey points to certain lit up and rowdy looking building in the distance. The sound and sights of many steeds in a half-open stable, informs one of the amount of fresh travelers. A connected solid double story building shines with light and rough laughter. A hanging wooden sign swings with painted letters spelling out: "The Third Thirsty Goat".


    Yes yes yes, it has all the makings of a cheap but popular tavern that''s visited by locals and tourists alike. Is there a first and second thirsty goat? Sounds like my kind of place.


    Abbey helps me down the pile of hay and tips the driver appropriately for the trouble of our weights. She is however quite reluctant to take another step further. As a young maiden unaccompanied by a male relative, I can understand her position and fears. Her nervous face on the verge of a tearful breakdown stopping me from running straight in far more effectively than physical force.


    Damn it.


    "Abbey, we can approach it slowly." I coax on her.


    The sound of a crashing horn cup, wood, and roaring laughter make her jump in fright, undoing all my efforts.


    "Ah, you know how it gets. Come on, we can go quietly from the side entrance?" I try leading her to some success.


    We linger outside a bit, slowly walking around and spying the type of patrons going in and out. All of them generally cheerful and in good spirits. Occasionally an emotional crier sobs on a friend''s shoulder getting escorted for a breath of fresh air. Occasionally two muscle bounded guys ''take it outside''.


    "Eeeep..." Abbey whimpers at the fight, which oddly ends in both men punching each other''s faces out. Then laughing and shaking hands, even hugging.


    "That just how some guys are. I promise that''s not compulsory." I pat at my maid.


    People come and go, a decent amount in some part of the troop''s issued armor. I can see it''s a listed stopover. Probably for the lads to unwind and celebrate, especially if they just marched from somewhere like the outpost I just visited.


    It''s definitely way more men than women. But the occasional local girl or female soldier going about helps to soothe Abbey''s nerves about the place.


    More importantly, Georgie is supposedly inside!


    With baby steps, we quietly make our way inside.


    Oh my, it''s hideous! A barn of men and poor taste. It reeks of cheap wine, ale and very greasy and salty food. It doesn''t even have all the cool easily breakable decor of a video game tavern. How rustic. How rural. Yet everyone enjoys themselves immensely. Absolutely fascinating!


    One big man cracks a giant hard boiled egg on his head to unpeel it. He takes a bite and trades it off to his buddy four another pour of ale.


    A semi-familiar one eyed woman smirks at the table of cards, downs her wine before slamming down her winning hand to everyone''s screams and cries.


    A middle aged man carries in tankards worth of refills of something and half the bar cheers.


    Now that''s a bar.


    It''s only the fear of leaving Abbey lost and alone that I don''t run and climb up anything for a better view.


    "Oh my~ Can I get you cuties anything? How about a clear seat? Don''t get your type round here much, how cute~" a sultry bar maid comes slide a pair of barrels for us.


    Like a mockery of a lady she overly curtsies to me in good humor, as if asking for permission to lift me up. Which I allow of course. However, I think Abbey is having an aneurysm as the barmaid handles her up like a shaking mannequin.


    "Oh? A first timer~ How fun, I know just the thing for you cutie." she hangs Abbey''s shawl over her lap, undoes her braids in a split second, pinning it half up to a looser more flattering style, and pours a goblet of partly fermented plum colored punch with a stick of herbs.


    The without even taking my order, I get nothing but juice and a plate of something that looks like a chopped grilled eel in front of me. Oh and a wink.


    Sure there are no menus in sight but uh ok?


    Oh it''s tasty! And the tartness of the plum juice cuts the grease of the eel so deliciously!


    "Call me if you cuties need anything else~" she winks and blows kisses


    Thank you kinda psychic sexy bar maid! Excellent service, 5 out of 5 stars.


    "Awwww did you hear that! So cute~" the barmaid goes chattering to her co-worker. Leaving me to my meal and Abbey to her apparent twitching stroke.


    Drink your kinda juice Abbey. It''s basically alcohol-free.


    When Abbey slowly calms down, perhaps with the help of whatever was in that plum punch, we have a great time simply observing everything.


    But the problem is, wherever is our Georgie?


    "Excuse me," I wave down the 5-star barmaid.


    I do not actually think she''s psychic. But when she smiles and points over to a section of the bar, covered by burly men drinking, then really points to a center spot, I feel I might have to stop thinking.


    There''s Georgie! A little more unkempt, but that''s still my hard work in his soft acne-free skin and shiny brown hair. Being so much slimmer than most of the guys around him, it''s just easy not to see him.


    "And then I roasted the hell out of that garlic! Mashed it fine through a sleeve to slather over that boar!" with a slight flush to his cheeks, he heroically tells the tale of his camping cooking to the oooing and awwing of some bulky jocks around his age.


    They clap and clamor after his every word. One writing down notes on his arm in charcoal, another one even dumbly asking "but wat is er a garlic?".


    Ah. How cute. Georgie has made some friends. That or food slaves. I can''t blame them if they came from the outpost. It really really sucked there.


    "I couldn''t help but overhear such a fine tale. Please, let me buy you a drink." a slightly beared man approaches their party, perhaps a local judging from his clothing.


    There''s no reason but the psychic experience I''ve gained from working a bar myself, that I instantly feel something is very wrong. Call it instinct. Call it a creep alert. I have no proof but a girl just knows.


    "In fact, the next round of drinks for you all in on me." he order wine and ales for the small bunch of late teenagers.


    Concerning to me but normal enough here, for they all cheer. Minus Georgie. The strange man hands my buzzed silly assistant a drink he carried over personally. Something stronger and more expensive I can tell. They clink their glasses in a smiling cheer.


    But wrong. It feels absolutely wrong.


    "Georgie no! Abbey, we have to stop him. " I shake my maid, accidentally making her choke. Feeling desperate I look for that barmaid, lost in the crowds. Just like my own voice and height fail to reach.


    "Georgie! Georgie, it''s me! I forbid you, get away from there!" I hop down, trying to get over there.


    I don''t care if I cause a ruckus. The creep alerts are baring red hot in my head and I think Georgie is getting roofied!


    "Ack!" I feel myself get pushed back. Stopped and accidentally kicked from the crowd of clumsy drunk and buzzed people.


    I even go flying back into some low barrels. Oh fuck, oh ouch. That did not help my earlier motion sickness.


    I feel it in slow motion as I''m too late, catching Georgie drop and spill the glass.


    "Oi oi oi whattup with the cook?"


    "Georgie? Georgie you alright there buddy?"


    "Ahahaha he just slumped on over!"


    Young and naive, just kids, they all are. Oh god that''s why we have the drinking age higher or some shit. 16 is definitely a no go but here it is. The trainees around him laugh and tease, even through their concern.


    "Must have had too much to drink. Please, enjoy your drinks and allow me to take him up to rest it off." the older man offers them another couple of ales. Reaches to lean and support a 16 year old boy, god damn it, onto his grip.


    "No! No no no! Let him go!" I shout, despite the pain in my guts.


    I can''t move fast enough though. I can''t do anything through all these barrels and people. I can''t.


    I get another bruising trip and kick, mess up of chairs and spilled splatter running through it all. But the man starts to really move, Georgie blearily blinking through the haze. He looks drunk but I know it''s more than that. I do my best to keep my eyes on him but I can''t just make it fast enough. Not when I trip on another spill. Not when I know that shit is getting away.


    God damn it!


    "What are you doing?" a too quiet little voice asks.


    It sounds as if it bends down to pick me up, even though it''s not very high. Hardly that much taller than me. Still very much child height. I can hardly see through my tears and I suddenly realize how much I''m crying, I can''t even speak from my hiccuping.


    "G-g-o-g" my lungs fail me at this very moment, stuttering worse than Abbey.


    I can''t breathe. I can''t even shout for help.


    "It was really scary, right? It''s ok. Georgie is going to be ok. Let''s get you clean up, ok? I think Abbey is looking really hard for you. She''s crying too."


    "HEY! WHAT THE FUCK?!" screams out a man, clearly in pain.


    "Y-young miss!" Abbey calls out from the opposite direction, sobbing when Amar delivers me back to her skirts. The flustered barmaid right behind her in the search.


    "Stay good. Don''t cry? Georgie is gonna be ok." the kid pats the both of us crying girls a few times, before running off.


    Right to the center of an increasingly growing crowd. Unlike me, that one is actually good at getting through and under all the adults'' legs.


    I still have a terrible case of the hiccups, angry crying impairing my breathing. But I gesture up to Abbey, wanting to see what''s going on. But it''s the barmaid that catches on first, lifting me on her shoulders.


    "Ha...if you wanted a turn. I would have gladly taken your pretty face up first over your easy friend there. " the man I now Iabel an absolute certified creep, a disgusting pervert, should be chopped chopped, laughs lowly while nursing his injured blood hand.


    A dirty blond head and a boy even smaller and younger than Georgie growls almost animalistically, baring his teeth. It''s not very intimidating when Georgie leans slumped over his shoulder, bleary and groaning.


    From the side, a woman in a colorful though roughed up dress, and smooth dreadlock like braid forces her way through, offering to take Georgie.


    Perhaps it''s because she''s a rather non-threatening female, or perhaps it''s because Amar clings behind her legs, that Yuna relents. I don''t know if he''s being soft and careful or angrily flinging Georgie off into the woman''s arms. Cass. That''s right. That''s her name.


    Either way, the moment he does, Yuna jumps into the fray. Disappearing from the left and suddenly reappearing in front of the pervert''s face. Specifically with his fist.


    "What did you call me?" Yuna spits, oddly too calm for the mass violence that he enacts. punching in the man''s face repeatedly after pinning him down.


    "I didn''t quite hear you fuckface?" the 14 year old slams the man''s head down with a harsh grip, ignoring the screaming. Ignores how it grows all the louder when Yuna impossibly twins and snaps his arms to an angle that was in now way natural.


    "Didn''t you say you wanted me? Huh? Should we take this outside? Huh?! Or upstairs?! Where do you want to die huh fucker?!! " Yuna screams, choking the man. All before jumping off in frustration, throwing the whimpering bloody mess outside.


    The crowd watches with a morbid mix of fascination, amusement, and cheers. All while doing nothing. Just enjoying a show.


    This is how this world works in its odd ways. This is too close how I died myself.


    But it''s entirely different.


    "That''s enough. No killing beyond town borders." Cass tried to hold back an enraged Yuna.


    My grumpy cat looks more than scratched up, ferally growling as if he were a tiger beast ready to claw and feast. His sharp eyes promising he knew exactly how to maul a man to the edge of death, chew up his organs, and leave him to die.


    Leaving a very out of it Georgie on the floor, his buzzed but concerned buddies beginning to crowed around him as Amar forces him to drink some strange substance. The kid squishy Georgie''s face, forcing him to look at him.


    "You''re gonna be ok Georgie. Look at me. Focus and drink it down. You''re going to be ok. Look. You''re feeling better already." Amar repeats in some variation.


    His too calm demeanor, terrifying for a child, eventually loosens to a more natural scarred expression when Georgie seems to slowly regain his senses. Focusing and reaching for the boy in a comforting petting. Amar breathes a cry in relief as Georgie hugs him. A sign that the worse has passed.


    "Georgie?!" I manage to cry out.


    Something that forces my still dizzy assistant to look up, part in shock and part in a heartbroken fear.


    In a gesture, the barmaid also delivers me to Georgie''s prone form on the floor. And I rush to hang on.


    Stupid. Stupid boy. Worst assistant ever.


    Who told you to go drinking when you obviously don''t know how to take care of yourself. Bad! Bad Georgie! Why did you accept a drink from a stranger?! Do you have no common sense towards yourself?


    "I-I apologize. Don''t cry Rosalia, don''t cry my young miss. You''re right. I know. Thank you. Don''t cry." this stupid assistant of mine hiccups himself, fat wet tears matching mine. The shaking of his limbs unnatural, and horrifying in what could have been.


    For god''s sake. I came out to have a good time tonight, and now I just feel so attacked. Hell we were literally attacked.


    As Lukas would say, so not cool.


    "Let me go. Just let me-" Yuna snarls against any and everything in his way. All except one very small one.


    "Yuna? Yuna don''t go?" Amar tugs on the other boy, slipping out of Georgie''s grip the moment I came into the scene. Instead, he seems to immediately work on not only calming Yuna down, but soothing something I hate to say I recognize.


    Angry. Yuna''s so terribly angry still. A rage burns in him that can''t be put out easily, and I''m thankful yes. I''m thankful that it was Yuna that stepped up to save Georgie.


    But I fear that it should have been Yuna. Because somehow this has hurt the harsh boy even more.


    I would know, that underneath all that anger, is a jagged source of pain. Otherwise what can fuel all that? And in a body so young and small?


    Even angry, there'' something beautiful to him. Lively eyes and a pretty frame of hair. Sleek smooth lines and a cry of something I don''t want to relate to.


    14.


    He''s 14.


    The same age as me then. And even angrier at the world.


    "Don''t go Yuna. Don''t hurt like that anymore. Please? Please Yuna." Amar begs in his soft little way. Leaning into the older boy''s side and holding his hand tight, so much so that both their hands turn a shade paler.


    "Hey," Georgie calls out from the floor, grip still tight on me.


    Yuna hardly glances down, a strange mixture of his standard grumpy pride and disgust already returning. A mental shield that makes me shiver in shame and empathy.


    I know why I always put up with that rude brat, and it''s not because of his good looks. I know. It''s because he reminds me too much of myself back then.


    It''s because he reminds me too much of Meng.


    "Thank you." Georgie says straightforwardly, voice serious.


    Something that Yuna silently accepts with a moody roll of his eyes, and a drop of his clenched fist. Something that makes Amar tug and smile up at him. As if saying ''good job''.


    "Alright. Clear up, Up up and away with you all." Cass shoos away the crowd, saying the free show was over.


    With more strength than she looks capable of, she lifts both Georgie and me up in a princess hold. Much to our sudden surprise and shame.


    "Um..." Georgie nervously starts to address the older woman.


    "Patients stay quiet and good, while my patience remains. You''re not fully recovered. Take a rest first, flush more, and then we shall head back." she carries off to a more private area, nodding to both the barmaid that allows us through and to the boys to follow along. My own maid nervously following herself.


    A solemn and strange mood takes over, but it''s not...necessarily bad. Not pleasant, but not bad. Just something that isn''t going to be easy to talk about. Something like a scared sigh of relief.


    It''s a very messed up mix mash of bad times here. No need to be a cheat transmigrator or even psychic tell that much. A lot of trauma going on, old a new.


    This is not the kind of evening or reunion I was ever expecting. But hey, I guess that''s life for you.


    "*Yawn* Alright, sorry for being late. Did you already order and- wait what the.... Rosalia?! " Another dark and too tired-looking figure yawns through the side door, Vincent stumbling in with a freshly washed face.


    He looks at the silent mess of our quiet group, at the obvious signs of wrong and more wrong. Then back out the door as if considering U-turning.


    He doesn''t get to make that choice as a rowdy new crowd of fresh faces pours into The Third Thirsty Goat.


    "FREEEEEEESH GOODS! AHAHAAHA BOW TO ME AND MY NEW PETS!!! Oh damn do I have stories for you all!!! You would NOT believe what just happened to me! Oh hey VINNY! Long time no see! Eh the brats too? You sly little- here here kiddos I got some sweets for you!" Tamera stomps into the tavern, dressed in nothing but grass. The cheers about her as she dragged a whimpering exotic animal with her.


    Yeah, not what I was imaging at all.


    Somehow that''s exactly what makes this place feel just like a real bar. Even if I''m just sipping kiddy juice.


    Hey, another refill, please.


    ---------------------


    ----------------------------

 136 -care

    Oh how I wish I was there on the other side.


    Prison is not a fun place in any world. But this one really loves dungeons. Yes, sexy fantasy dungeons. With its cold hard stone and festering pests underneath all that moldy stinky hay. The shrouded darkness and damp disgusting air. The threat of physical torture is always available as an additional option for less than a few coins more. So much fun.


    Personally, I as the villainess, have even stayed a few nights in my own dungeons.


    You know, inspecting how to make it all the worse for potential ''guests''. Figure out potential escapes. Get some ideas on how to decorate. You can''t just trust standard dungeon models blindly without a test run.


    I can say that most of my father''s dungeons, even his pre-bought ones, are quite uncomfortable.


    Wait, let me start over again.


    I should have known my father, the strange and very overbearing prison warden that he is, would have had some secret guards to spy on me. Yes, the whole time.


    Thus I was not very surprised to leave The Third Thirsty Goat only to find a black inconspicuous but expensive limousine equivalent of a carriage waiting right outside. Alfonso quietly standing by with an escort of guards to pick me up.


    Lovely yes?


    And that''s how we got here. With all my servants behind bars in a pre-bought dungeon.


    Tamera, still barefoot in her grass...clothing, is the most uninvolved, unprepared and confused in the tiny cell. She looks a little like a lost tourist, having gotten off a tropical island only to land in jail.


    Next down the line as her call mate, Vincent''s soul looks to have left his body. Occasionally he ghostly moans things like "the schedule..." and "I told them..." from the ball he has curled in. Other than the whole being behind bars thing I am happy to report he''s looking fuller and healthier? As long as he doesn''t get a stomach ulcer from stress.


    In the next cell, both my little maid and assistant cower together at their first time in a prison dungeon. At least they get their own cell. Wow lots of firsts for them tonight. Too much so.


    Abbey somehow still not out of panicked tears, hiccups and shakes herself silly in Georgie''s arms. I feel more than a tad guilty for putting her in this situation. Georgie himself isn''t doing too hot. His expression stern, as if holding himself up and together out of stubbornness alone. Very well controlled given what he just went through.


    Though there is a shivering girl seeking comfort in his arms, his eyes constantly darts in worry to rest on the younger boy across the next cell.


    With him is that foreign Cass woman that I know next to nothing about. Her well-manicured hands, with dare I guess coats of polish, leisurely rebraids her hair into a single neat rope. Brushing out the kinks and ends with a big straight comb in a pretty cover. She too looks bored, in a way that almost pridefully says ''yeah I''ve been locked up before and this barely renovated pre-bought dungeon does not impress me''.


    Where I get this impression, I do not know. I apparently have a very active imagination.


    Also, hey lady, are you wearing nail polish? Are you? Does it come in stronger colors? Is that nail polish?! I don''t think you understand. We don''t have nail polish here?!!


    Ahem.


    Last but not least of the unexpected prisoners is Amar.


    The minion. A brain-damaged child. Smallest and tiniest of cute criminals. Who for some odd reason, the guards saw fit to not only place the boy in his own cell, but the thickest maximum security one. He plays with the outer bars, making them sound out like a big toy Xylophone, humming to himself. Before the layers of iron and locks fully close on him, he stupidly blinks up, then smiles and waves. The idiot.


    Ah they''re all going to die.


    "Did you have fun my dear little Chip?" my death sentence speaks, dressed in black and velvet.


    The darkness and low lights only serve to further highlight the ruby glimmer of his hair, the contours of his smooth handsome face. It suits him too well. A beauty so high it''s impossible to dare envy. So dark and deplorable, that the angels must have revolted to cast him out of heaven.


    And he''s petting me like a cat.


    Did I mention I would rather be on the other side of those bars?


    "....no?" I stay very quiet but still I fail the inspection.


    Though minor and cleaned up in a quick bath, none of my little messes nor bruises go unmissed.


    Since I have never been told a thing about the fact that I could potentially turn off my sense of pain, it of course hurts very annoyingly as he pokes and prods my little body.


    Hey hey hey not the tummy! Ahahaha not the tummy!


    The grim line to his mouth grows ever the sterner in great disapproval at each of my sensitive squeaks. It is shameful but cannot be helped. I''m not even dressed properly, clad in nothing but my nighties and a blanket.


    Is it my so called lack of talent he spoke of before? Am I really so untrainable? Sheesh, what do you expect when you never tell or help me with anything?


    "Sentence everyone to death." father says blankly.


    Um...like in the joking way?


    "Inadvisable my Lord." Alfonso jokes back, rolling out a scroll, "However we have temporarily shut down the establishment, and all patrons before a certain time frame have been arrested. The number totals to over official 80 troops members among them. Employee interviews are ongoing as we speak."


    Though father should know the reasons, he frowns at being denied. Eyeing the current private jail cells in distaste.


    "Papa please don''t murder my servants." I squeak, already reduced to using my tearful weapons.


    How pathetic of me.


    But it works well enough, causing father to sigh and pinch my cheek, as if in retaliation. He holds me close and tucks me away into his jacket, like a hostage unable to walk or see. Then snaps for the guards silently as he turns to walk away.


    The sound of a grate turns and slams.


    "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH What the fuckidity doo da day?!" screams Tamera''s voice in time with Vincent''s crying.


    In turn, Abbey from a few cells down starts crying in fashion. Georgie''s trying to hush her quiet in comfort but failing.


    "Oh shut up already! None of the tentacles are anywhere touching you!". Yuna gets annoyed enough to shout and complain.


    "Seriously? That''s it? You amateurs, Vincent just pull it by the fangs like the reigns of a Magatoosh and stab in the hollow up to the skull." the strangest reaction may be from Cass, sounding very unimpressed indeed.


    "What even is it?!" Tamera screams, unable to identify their new...friend.


    "Does not matter, they interbreed too fast. " the other woman answers boredly.


    "Where''s the skull!? There''s like - what even is it?" Tamera yells back.


    "Oh come on a 3-year-old with the sniffles could do better. No no no the not those fangs, more inside. Climb to the left. Yes those fangs! Now jam it into the liver, yes the liver is in the head." Cass instructs.


    "awwww its kinda cute now that I can identify it''s....eye?" Tamera remarks


    Hey um what''s even a magatoosh let alone that? Somehow, from all the screaming perhaps, I don''t think that I, as a 3 year old, could do better.


    Hey father, exactly what''s going on? Nope? Nothing. Alrighty then.


    The screaming fades with a series of closed doors and the return back to the resort.


    "Are you uncomfortable anywhere my dear," father prods at me as we walk.


    "...everywhere," I mumble into his chest.


    "Yes that is what happens when you get up too fast after a long ride." he continues to act like a doting father or some shit.


    As if all that just didn''t happen. Right.


    "Next time you really truly insist on satisfying your curiosity, you must wait and tell your mother or I to take you. I suppose your grandfather will do but still. Do you understand my troublesome ball of dough? You do not bounce back nearly so well. " he sighs, petting me still.


    "Yes father...." I grumble.


    "What else is it Rosalia? Besides your concern of the servants down there, and no that won''t kill them. You may have....some of them..., back by sundown tomorrow. They do need to be disciplined."


    "But Georgie is unwell, really now! A bad sort of pervert attacked at the bar and-"


    "And you willingly snuck off to such a place. At your age? And met what?"


    "....."


    "Oh my dear, I am not as emotionless as you take me to be. Your manservant is in fine hands, and no finer in the area cells. He will be ever the stronger for it time passed. They could, after all, be held ''outside'' with all the wretched prisoners."


    "....Yes father. Thank you, father. " I sink, admitting that is very true yes.


    It could be worse. And it''s not like they let the pervert get away. Though it sounds like he did very much lock up....the entire population of The Third Thirsty Goat tonight.


    "...Do you want your strawberry milk?" father asks in my silent contemplation. Trying to both distract and bribe me.


    "....yes." I agree, nodding along, much like a child.


    Because this is a child''s body, sweets really do make things all better. That and father promised not to outwrite murder everyone in the dungeon. Huzaah!


    Do I have low standards?


    Yes. Yes, I do. But try it from my shoes or lack of them. How would anyone fight against father? He''s terrifying!


    "Oh dear! Ohoho go Ladki go, oh show me who fell down the well!" an even more terrifying voice echoes approaching all the closer.


    Well nevermind then.


    "DARLING?! Oh there you are you nasty horrible inconsiderate- YOU LEFT ME TO WAIT FOR HOW LONG?!?! After I got all nice and pretty?! Is that it?! " mother turns the corner, dressed in nothing but.....let''s not describe it.


    I do not feel like fainting from the scandal, for I have had quite enough today. Her rage, and perhaps her scantily barely covered chest, nearly burst upon the sight of father standing in the hall.


    More importantly though ...there''s a very big snake ahead of her.


    I am not frightened for not only does father keep a few as pets. But this one, in particular, is very stupid.


    It slides past my parents and I, and starts smacking itself against the wall. Repeatedly. It could very well slip and slide elsewhere but no, it continues to slap itself silly, the rest of its body curling up. Like that it looks like one big squid ink linguini on a tasty plate.


    Hmm, I''m still hungry I see.


    "Maria my love, you look ravishing as you are heavenly, I practically do not dare look..., in fact I shall not. However our spawn snuck out to a tavern, thankfully one of your father''s. Do not fret, for I have-"


    "Darling, Frederick, Freed, my one and only, devil and divine, and all the names I could have been screaming right at this moment for entirely different reasons...what is behind the wall?"


    "...More walls."


    "And behind those?''


    "Perhaps even more walls."


    "...Oh ho~ really now?"


    "The night is cold, as it is never long enough my love. I do not wish to waste it anymore. shall we depart?" father smiles, reaching out his hand to take mother''s.


    But the stupid linguini continues smacking the wall, wailing pitifully. I did not know snakes even could wail or whimper. It turns it''s beady little eyes to us, shining in the way that beads on stuffed animals look imploring, needy even.


    I can feel father''s mood drop ever the further, as does mother''s tapping foot and crossed arms.


    "You left me in the middle of the night. After all we planned and...ME?! You left me waiting?! To go interrogate prisoners?!" she snarls, loose villainess hair looking larger and all suddenly more intimidating.


    "And our dear child Rosalia. Quite a dangerous thing, in such a horrid ill suitable situation. She''s quite shaken and needs her...milkies...immediately." he holds me up in defense.


    Oh ho ho ho foul move father. For I have already used up my cuteness cards with my mother today, and that is obviously a woman''s ''nice'' lingerie. You have dug yourself into hole that cannot be undone. For a woman scorned is beyond hell itself.


    "Open the pathway." she demands.


    "Surely not my dear, tis only more walls and some mere minor criminals." father waves off.


    Squid ink linguini whimpers and I had no idea snakes could even cry.


    "Even your pet disapproves, I will not ask again my love. " mother holds sternly, arms crossed.


    Perhaps out of fear for our personal safety, perhaps because her lingeries may burst out like that, but father sighs and relents. Removing his coat to cover her like it was a cape, and snapping not only for the snake to stop that nonsense but for the walls to slide back open.


    There really are a lot of walls back there.


    "Now let''s see what has Ladki so bunched up? Is that screaming I hear? The screaming of young maidens?! Oh you fiend, you beast! Am I not enough for you?!!" mother cries, running down the dark hall.


    I look up at father the same time he looks down at me. Even with an expressionless face, I can tell he understands perfectly.


    We should run. Simply escape.


    "DARLING! Now!"


    Nevermind.


    "...yes dear." goes the whipped husband.


    He snaps for a pair of maids, who quite shockingly appears from out of nowhere. Ordering for them to send me to bed with my milkies.


    But hey, I''m already here for the long run. Might as well see this show to the end. Not that I''m worried or anything.


    "I''d rather stay with you over milks." I cling on, making myself comfortable in father''s arms and refusing to be taken.


    Go on now, to the show. Stop staring at me like an unidentified specimen for study!


    After a quick ''pwease'' for me, and another shout from mother, father sighs and relents. Waving the maids off ah he very slowly takes him time turning back. Sheesh, I suppose the nerd is simply too terrified of his own wife to get a move on.


    Move he does. However what greets us is really not what I expected.


    "Oh boo hoo hooo is this what you''re into now?! Oh how shall I ever compete!" mother sobs, curled up on the floor. Much to the silent panic of literally everyone.


    Well, now the good news is the all my servents seem to still be alive and the ...thing...defeated. How wonderful.


    Bad news.


    I think Abbey is broken. Everyone else in cell two and three are facepalming or entirely given up.


    The first cell has been flooded to a height that would more than drown me. Vincent is dangling, crying even, from near the ceiling and wrapped up in some very awkward tentacles. Meanwhile, Tamera is entirely missing but assuming the moving lump inside the....thing...is her, she should be fine. Oh look, there''s her foot bursting out, and another one, she''s fine yes.


    "I don''t understand....but I can try? Please, darling, please just give me some time." mother sobs, trying to gulp in the scene.


    "Maria my beloved one and only, how I do love all of you. Even and especially your imaginative mind that goes down gutters never before dug. But please. Stop thinking. I assure you it''s entirely wrong, again." father motions for the guards to clean up, pinching his own temple in tired frustration.


    "Oh boohoo there is no need to ease my feelings. Oh the other ladies at tea warned me this would happen one day! I can change! Well I can''t grow tentacles, BUT I CAN CHANGE?!" she sniffles in her own tears.


    "....never do. " he bends down, balancing me to button mother up further. "Never change unless it''s what you really want in your core my love, not for anyone and certainly not for me. "


    "You''re not getting bored of me? You haven''t figured out I''m a sham and finally fed up?" she rubs her tears to his side, nearly crushing me. "


    "By all the realms that may or may not exist, no. The fact you haven''t figured out you could do better is another thing I''m eternally grateful for."


    "Oh darling!"


    Hey, I''m still here! No no no! No more grossness allowed!


    "Awwwww this is pretty darn cute." goes the Tamera lump. Somehow able to watch the whole show still.


    "Now this is impressive torture," Cass remarks to everyone else''s awkward silence and muffled groans.


    "I have many questions," starts Georgie, using his own lap as a pillow to set a thankfully unconscious Abbey down, " but what the hell is noodle doing?"


    Noodle? Oh the snake! So that''s noodle! That is easier than calling it a stupid plate of squid ink linguini every time. Where did it go?


    "Let us be off, this filthy place is not worthy to house even a stray lock of your hair my love." father recites charmingly, so very close to convincing mother to look the other way.


    Say away from the very locked up maximum-security cell. One where a still shrinking snake, great magic I assume, is trying to fit in the cracks of.


    Ah.


    "Mother. Father. I am very sorry for sneaking out and interrupting all your grossness time. But can we please not imprison my minions and servants? They''re mostly innocent. I know my wrongs now. Just promise you''ll let them go and we''ll be on our merry way. Please oh please?" I choose at this time to beg cutely, also putting in my part to distract mother.


    "....you were serious? She snuck out to a tavern?" mother turns to her husband.


    "When am I not?" father meets her back, perfectly serious.


    "She''s three! However is that possible?! Oh you spoil her the most, she wouldn''t have gotten out if you somehow didn''t allow her to!"


    "You said to settle the girls by tonight. And I assure you, my dearest wife and unfortunate mother to my children, that we have her patterns fully analyzed at this point. It will never happen naturally."


    "That''s not what I meant by see to the girls, Frederick! Oh I knew it. I just knew it You-."


    Will this night never end?


    And hey what does father mean by that?!


    All my patterns analyzed?! I can put up with spying but this? I am not a creature for study like on animal planet! How dare you? Never naturally?! Is that a challenge? Because-


    "Alright, alright, you both win. I am forever indebted to all my girls." father silences us in a beg for mercy, pulling both of us up from this very uncomfortable dungeon floow and right into his arms.


    "Awwwwwwww," goes Tamera, cleaning herself from out the monster corpse.


    "Can I go die now?" Vincent asks from upsidedown, still dangling.


    "Can we have some normal torture? The wheel? A beating? Charges of manual labor? This is too much, I''d honestly prefer that." Cass asks the awkward guards from the other side of the cells.


    "Awwwwww don''t be a downer, this is some sweet shit." Tamera continues to wiggle herself out the...hopefully dead thing.


    "w-what''s g-goinn on? Ge-georgie? Oh I had a horrible dream and- EEEEEEEEEP!!!" Abbey momentarily awakens, only to faint again. Maybe at the sight of cell one.


    Yeah mood. Unconcious is better than this. This isn''t how I saw my evening going either.


    "Oh darling, you didn''t lock up those kids?" mother cuddles up, if not from sheer gross affection then the cold. She is after all wearing practically nothing under father''s coat.


    "These are the nice cells my love. But rest assured, they''ll all be released." father assures her.


    "Now. " she demands lightly.


    "Yes dear." he caves.


    Pffft so easy when he comes to his wife. The loser. Oh if only it was that easy to control him.


    "Oh the poor little things, have them sent to the baths and some rooms prepared." mother reorders the guards as if she were calling for tea.


    "Yes dear." father really does try to lead her away, back to safety.


    "And now, let''s see what has Ladki all up in a fuss." she escapes. Pulling him, and thus me, to maximum security. Forcing the locks and doors to be opened with nothing but her indirect command.


    Oh I can''t watch.


    The pet snake had somehow shrunk to a size small enough to disappear entirely. Useful as it is horrifying. That thing could be anywhere? Well, I suppose that''s one reason why it hasn''t been eaten yet with how stupid it is. But hey, domestic animals.


    Slowly each layer creaks open in their complicated nuts and bolts, finally reaching the base bars. All to reveal...


    ....Nothing?


    Just an empty bare call? Not even the magic snake? But how?! Where? I swear- oh forget it.


    I''m too tired to be surprised anymore.


    "Hmmm how strange? What was all the fuss?" mother flutters into the cell as soon as the bars unlock. Father unamusedly standing outside behind her, his grip on my tightening with both arms.


    "Absolutely nothing my dear." he puts on a fake charming expression, all for her.


    "Oh and what''s this?" mother seems to spy something in the dark, reaching to pick it up.


    "More nothing." I can hear father grinds his teeth from behind his forced smile.


    "Oh how adorable! My my my it''s a little doll! Lookie Rosa! Oh it even has red for its hair, just like you!"


    What? Of all the things to leave behind? And there goes mother rushing back into the light to hand me the thi-


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


    The following moments and memory have been blacked out due to instant overload.


    Thank you for using the Rosalia narrating service system. We are closed for the evening, and possibly more. Good night.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ----------------------


    ------------


    ---


    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Bonus time!!!


    Just exactly what it was the Rosa remembered as Meng on her ''only'' trip alone and left off. Yeah sure.


    Very skippable.


    JJ and great ''grossness'' warning.


    Please do not read if allergic or if you have ''proper'' sensibilities like Rosalia. DO NOT !


    ----------------------------------------


    -----------------------


    -------


    ---


    "Guess where I am now?" I remember snickering on the phone.


    Despite the summer hot sun radiating down, burning up the pavement and making everything feel like the inside of tableware I felt a little too numb and giddy at my carefully kept prank.


    It was a really fun prank of a trip though...


    "In bed. Thinking of me. Isn''t it like midnight over there? Why? Did you need to hear my voice to fall asleep?" the voice teased back over the line, yawning himself at the early hour.


    "Shut up and guess seriously. Ah sorry, were you still sleeping? Did I wake you?" a young woman yelled before quickly changing her tone.


    She looked around the empty streets, finding it extremely novel how late people started their days around here. Meng swore she set the time right and rechecked it. Yep, 9 am. How fascinating.


    "Am I? Hearing from you is already like a dream." he yawned back.


    "Should I call back when you''re less deliriously sleep talking?" her tone wasn''t kidding. She would most certainly hang up on him when she felt like it.


    "I''m up! I''m awake. Don''t go just yet Mengmeng, let me dream a little longer." he whined, even through the phone.


    It was very easy to imagine what he was doing in his morning routine. If not lazily catching up on the lost sleep any student desperately needed, even on a summer program, then the shuffling sounds from the other line meant he was crawling out of bed to make his morning coffee. After the middle of college, Jung-Joon needed his coffee before operating anything close to functional and Meng giggled at the mental image. Him bumping around sleepily, messy-haired and deliciously caffeine-addicted.


    Not that she''s much better when it came to work. Ah yes, blessed coffee. She would like some coffee right now, preferably of better quality than what was served in the plane.


    "I said, guess where I am right now?" she asked again, feeling that strange elated combination of sleep-deprived and excited.


    She must have been running on adrenaline and shitty airplane coffee or something. That would explain the lightness to her steps and the almost pleasant beating of her heart. Despite getting lost on the metro maybe three times already, everything just felt....more than fine.


    "Can I guess what you''re wearing instead? That kid-sized cookie monster onesie we got on sale? Oh um, the happy frog socks and some very nice short shorts? Those are all comfy. Wait my favorite guess: my old shirt. Just that. "


    The rasp of sleep was still in his voice, low and ...something...


    ...Which was perfectly natural! Everyone sounded like that upon waking up! Guys especially! Meng laughed and brushed off the heat rising in her cheeks to the sunlight outside.


    "Fail. Everything you said was wrong and I didn''t even ask that! And it''s too hot for any of that shit." she snapped on the phone, checking the GPS walking directions again.


    "But you look so cute in them. Let a guy dream? Wait. It is legit midnight over there. Please don''t tell me you''re still in the office. Again?"


    She could imagine the exact expression of tired judgment on his face, maybe over a steaming fresh cup of coffee. Maybe with that adorably rumpled bed hair, silky black, while rubbing the sleep from one of his eyes.


    "I''ll give you a hint. Guess who got the Paris fashion week press duty?" she doesn''t bother holding back the pure gloating in her tone.


    "...Rihanna?" Jung-Jung guessed, sounding like he just took a lazy bite of a pastry.


    "I''m going to kill you, you god damn little bitchass-"


    "Mengy I''m kidding! You know you''re the only queen for me. Holy fuck, that''s great. I knew you could pull it off. " he saved himself.


    "...Praise me more." Meng allowed herself to take the bait.


    "Babe. Queen. Goddess. Bae oh bae. Forever stan. I could say you deserve this but no. You probably ripped some people''s throats out and stepped on them with your little red bottom heels to get this job with your name on it, and I love you so much more for it. You could slay me, not like you slay your competition, but literally, and I''d just say thank you very much. " he went on, more than the morning caffeine fueling him to the waking world.


    "....Keep talking." she graciously allowed him.


    That''s how they both distracted themselves for the next following minutes. Familiar silly chatter. Meng using that wasted time to figure out which street was what in the seemingly maze-like neighborhood. She''s glad she left the majority of her luggage in a locker at the airport because the cobblestone streets, as lovely as they were, just weren''t not wheel friendly.


    "So in a little over two weeks, I shall be sitting pretty backstage and audience line. And if I''m lucky enough, I may even glimpse the A-listers, like Rhianna, from afar. Do you understand what that means? Or should I give you more time to finish your coffee?" she laughed over the phone, spirits still a little too high.


    "It means you get to practice your French and stuff your face with baguettes?"


    "You fool, I''m in it for the croissants. Pain au everything! Oh my cholesterol. Goodbye calorie count. Bonjour, mademoiselle madeleine et monsieur macaroon. The finest of their pastries. Give me cake or give me death! " she maybe got a little too passionate at the thought.


    "I''m pretty sure you''re mangling more than one quote there?" he replied over the phone, laughing softly.


    "It also means I''ll be across the ocean and in Europe. Uh hello? Did you know a high-speed train ticket between Paris and Barcelona can cost as little as $46.96? That''s like 3 nights at the cheapest hostel in the area." Meng couldn''t hold the excitement, that bit of mischievous glee from sounding out.


    The silent second gives her pause though.


    "Hello? Did you fall back asleep? Hello?"


    "Did you know, I''m in with love you? Fuck hostels, find me. When are you coming?"


    "Ha! Who isn''t!? Er um, can you confirm to me your address again?" she laughs a little too loudly.


    "It''s-"


    At that moment, a siren went by the slowly wakening street. It wasn''t obnoxiously loud, but it was a recognizable enough sound. Warning all others to make way for the poor unfortunate soul that needed its services. It''s that very sound that not only comes through Jung-Joon''s ancient Spanish apartment window but through the assumingly international call back home, with Meng.


    It''s very easy to imagine what happened next from just the sound of crashing dishes, slamming doors, and clamoring footsteps down stone stairs.


    "Um? Hello?" Meng tries speaking again on the suddenly silent line.


    The giant heavy door in the cobblestone alleyway slams open with too great a force, probably disturbing the closest neighbors. But it didn''t really matter.


    He really was like she imagined from the phone call. That''s how well she knew him, even if they hadn''t seen each other in months.


    From the messy bedhead to the midnight moonlight reflected in those obsidian black eyes. Shining all on her. When he smiles, she maybe forgot why she was here, or where here even was.


    Maybe that''s it. The jig is up. Her strange little prank found out a moment too early. It causes shock. All adrenaline lost at once.


    She''s jetlagged. Yep, all very good reasons to stay rooted staring.


    Not because Jung-Joon showed up without a damn shirt. God damn. Not that at all. She sees too much that way, sees even the tatoos normally hidden under good sensible clothes. And if she gulps it''s because of this heat, damn it was a bad idea to travel in the summertime. Too hot for anything, not even a simple proper shirt. Definitely too hot.


    "Surprise?" she tries, swallowing nothing but hot air.


    The heat really is too much. Not suitable for warm holds of flesh and strong masculine arms. He tastes like bittersweet coffee with something dulce de leche for breakfast, whatever else this country offered. Drowned in it and the scent of something oddly as relaxing as it was reinvigorating.


    Meng blinks drowsily, out of breath and wondering how the hell she knows what the inside of his sweet mouth tastes like.


    Or why he was so close, as if all around her. Stars swimming in her vision. Or why her feet felt as if there were floating, as if they weren''t even touching the ground?


    "Eeeep! You!" she starts reddening a shameful shade of red, smacking her hands against those brute shoulders.


    Too bare, too defined, and that back? She wonders if he can even feel anything with a back like that. Then flushes and hits even harder, or well tries too in her weakness. Wherever she could quite scandalously reach in this sudden lifting hold.


    So sudden apparently she hadn''t even realized it was happening.


    "It''s still a dream right? I''m definitely still sleeping. " Jung-Joon sounded almost giddy, nuzzling against the side of her neck.


    The simple action making even more heat impossibly shoot up Meng''s face. It didn''t stop at that. With the young man affectionately kissing up the side of her face till a solid peck at her ear had her screaming and scratching like an angry street cat.


    Maybe because he still thought it was a dream where he could do as he liked, or maybe because they really will disturb all the neighbors at this rate, Jung-Joon silences her with another press of red hot lips.


    One of soft longing and burning summer stars, once so desperate it destroyed everything in a flash flare. Till there was nothing left but cold ash, rain, and salty tears.


    But now? Now it smoldered into something incredible, unbelievably so. Like how their sun, also a star, was just right. The right size, the right distance, all the exact formulas to bring forth life to their rare earth.


    He kissed her till the aftertaste of good and shitty coffee intertwined and then some. The lingering sweetness of dulce de leche and something more, growing urgent. When the swooning girl kissed back, gripping her small fingers through his already messy hair, desperate and hard, all while mewling weakly into his mouth, Jung-Joon swore he saw the theoretical big bang explode real time behind his closed eyes.


    When he dared to peek them open, he definitely saw the universe dazed in his arms.


    The neighbors be damned.


    He kissed her again. And again. Pinned to the closest wall, he kissed as if he wanted to swallow every sweet sound that came out of her mouth. Because like a wild dream, she actually let him. Sober. Too swept up in the pace.


    The problem was Meng really did not travel well.


    Even with all the precautions and medication taken. A plane ride from Vancouver to Barcelona took at the minimum half a day, not including stopovers and connecting flights. Then there was navigating the airport, shuttle, and even the tram down to the city center. She would have been exhausted even assuming she was at tip top health, which she was not after hauling ass to land this specific job and planning everything out.


    It really was too hot, even in the morning hours.


    Thus she cannot be blamed for simply...passing out.


    "Meng?" he whispered worriedly, feeling her completely go limp.


    No, not swoon so hard that her knees failed and she fell for him even harder, but quite literally straight out falling over unconscious. It was fine with Jung-Joon carrying her but still?


    "Meng?!" he tried not to shake to unconscious girl.


    But she really was knocked out, face still flushed and steaming. Fast asleep. The deadweight of her sleeping figure, and her luggage, told Jung-Joon for sure this definitely wasn''t a dream. Especially when he was stuck carrying them all up the stairs to his apartment.


    Definitely not a dream he would amusedly think to himself, hours later into the evening, and Meng was back up and operational. Acting as if this morning had never happened but for the alluring flush to her cheeks.


    Blissful denial again.


    Well, can''t be helped with Meng, Jung-Joon shrugged.


    "Did I really faint outside from heatstroke? Shit dude, I''m sorry for putting that on you." she acted meekly, both from her own jetlag and the embarrassment.


    Embarrassment from passing out. Embarrassment for any very inappropriate and obviously insane dreams. Horrible lucid dreams! Meng blames many things from motion sickness to sleep deprivation for them, maybe later she''ll psycho analyze why with the help of the internet. For now, Meng pinches herself for them and wills herself back to normal as soon as possible. Right after playing sick and rolling around in these sheets. This shy act was fucking weird.


    The sight of it was was so cute though, Jung-Joon almost internally forgave her. Not quite. But close.


    "It''s fine. As long as you''re ok." Jung-Joon comforts, more than content in the fact that she was even here. That she chose to come here for him.


    That was more than enough.


    "Maybe not tonight, since I''m so messed up but like...later, I''ll treat you to something really good. Whatever tapas or wine bar you want. Just say it. Ok? " Meng promises to herself to pay him back for putting up with her suddenly showing up and passing out at his door step, even though her confused embarrassment.


    "Something good? Alright. I''ll hold you up on that." he smiles happily in agreement, fluffing up another pillow, in his bed, for her comfort. All while forcing Meng to hydrate and keep hydrating since she slept throughout most of the day.


    "By the way....what am I wearing?" she asks, feeling something very off. Like how comfortable she was.


    "My shirt." Jung-Joon cheerily replied.


    "...and how is it on me? What happened to....everything else I was wearing this morning? " Meng blankly asked, aura growing darker and darker.


    "I think it''s very cute on you. My favorite guess. And everything else is in the wash." he pointed off to the other room, like nothing was wrong with that statement or anything it implied.


    "...."


    The sounds of angry screaming, and possibly crashing furniture as Meng chased the younger man down his own apartment, definitely bothered the neighbors that night.


    But it was worth it.


    -----------------------------------------------------------------------


    ------------------------------------------------------


    -------------------------


    ---


    Not exactly a bonus.


    Side story with a Georgie''s POV. Please enjoy.


    ---


    ----------


    -----------------------


    "George. Giorgio. Jorg?


    You can call my name whatever way you like. But I guess it''s Georgie these days. Not that it really matters but some continuity is nice.


    Hi, my name is Georgie, and I''m a mob character.


    Or that''s what the young misses says


    I need to make it very clear that she''s three. As in years. An absolute insanity blasting toddler. Still very much smelling of milk and the most expensive of babies.


    Normally we don''t actually listen to babies. Especially when they use their own make believe words.


    But she''s not just a Ventrella. Rosalia is as much a genius as she is insane.


    They''re all crazy. The "unofficial" Ventrella banner has not changed but at the same time that''s all the credibility they need. A famous and renowned family, though small, have more power and authority than most people to ever exist.


    So if the young miss Rosalia says so, thus I am.


    The problem was asking what the hell that meant. Respectfully of course. The problem being that she''s exactly right.


    I''m a mob character. I work in the background. I blend into the background.


    I have brown hair, and brown eyes, and some shade of...skin. Yeah. Very normal. Two eyes, two ears, one nose, nothing extra, nothing missing. Very very normal.


    Or boring.


    Which is fine! I''m not complaining. Don''t get me wrong. I like normal and boring. Love it really! I love having no missing body parts!


    I love safe, and predictable and reasonable I like, you know, having a roof over my head, and a clean environment to not instantly keel over and die on. I like working in the kitchens and tailoring rooms and all these wonderfully in house respectable thing. And not being out in the fields or laboring in any other painful tiring ways.


    I especially love getting paid, money. Cash money.


    I''m the grandson of a mere farmer, a toiler of the fields. My father was an adventuring sailor, so I was told. While my mamma was said farmer''s daughter, turned prostitute. That''s where I come in.


    It''s a tale as old as time.


    Really, it''s so normal and boring even I groan at it.


    I never knew the man that fathered me. Don''t even know if he''s still alive. All I heard was that he paid his fees, tipped nice and sailed back away. But I suppose he must have also generally been a pretty normal person. The whole two eyes, one nose, probably nothing extra kind of deal. I don''t know much else.


    And so I spent my first few years of life pretty normally. Back and forth between waiting after my mom chasing easy money, waiting for her promised to make it big somewhere somehow, and my grandparents in the old boring farm in the middle of nowhere.


    I never did understand why my mamma gave it all up. Her hometown. That domestic cottage and farm, though small. It was always welcoming and warm. Boring was safe. Boring was...it was more home than anything.


    I think I could have stayed there for the rest of my life and been more than happy with it.


    But I couldn''t leave my mamma alone.


    So I spent too much of my childhood already working. Cleaning. Errands. Delivery. Anything that the port brothel needed a pair of small hands for. Wasn''t too bad. But it was just an odd place for a child to blend in, even if there were a bunch of us.


    It wasn''t so bad, not how some people think. The matron ruled with an iron fist but that''s a good thing. Kept it all organized, kept us busy and learning the odds ends at outs you wouldn''t expect to pick up.


    But it wasn''t for me.


    Neither were my mamma''s dreams. She and practically every woman in there had the same ideas. Strike it rich, strike it famous. Hook a man of standing, either as his mistress or maybe even his wife. You can''t do that as just any village woman so why not turn into a courtesan?


    But a true cortigiana, the highest celebrity status, takes time, money and class that most folks would never even be able to afford just one of. Not in their entire lives. There are limits, and then there are the stars in the sky.


    People just need to know theirs.


    I feel bad for thinking it, ever, but mamma getting sick was one of the best things that ever happened to me.


    She couldn''t work like that. It was like the sky fell on her and I breathed, yes yes yes on the truth finally shoving itself in her face. One that was losing it''s modest beauty from...I don''t know, life? If it wasn''t the sickness then life was never going to give her the kind she wanted.


    So back to the farm it was. Back home. I don''t see what the problem was. We were lucky to even have a home to go back to, let alone one as good as that.


    Some of the kids there never knew anything else.


    And so I got my happily ever after when mamma took me back to her village. I worked for my grandparents and did odd chores around the village with the skillsets I admittedly have to thank to the brothel matron for. I could read a bit, much more than the local kids. And I knew my numbers. More importantly, I knew how to actually eat.


    Or cook. Same thing.


    See, porridge doesn''t impress the clients. Even if they''re not there for the food.


    Since my grandparents were the main force on the farm, and my mother too ill, maybe heartbroken, to really work. It was up to me to really help out inside the house. That included meals.


    I was proud to say mamma only ever ate my food. It was the closer to the finer stuff in life. The rest and clean air did her good.


    But it wasn''t enough.


    Medicine isn''t grown on trees, and whatever ate at her wasn''t cheap. They say it was the price of her sins.


    We needed money that in no way the farm could provide and I was naive enough to try my luck by applying under the biggest employer in the multi-state area.


    The Ventrellas.


    Again, don''t get me wrong. I didn''t try for the troops or anything. See I know my limits, I watched my mamma long enough to know what happens when you dream too far. When you can''t see yourself and everyone you hurt chasing that.


    I just thought I wouldn''t be so bad working around. The support that keeps everything running. Landing in the kitchens, even as a busboy was a dream come true given the pay. It only got better as I learned more, climbing the ranks. My cooking got better at the same time mamma''s health did. I tried to feed her the fanciest things I learned then.


    I''d like to think she passed on in peace then, when the illness finally took her.


    Yeah she made mistakes, and life wasn''t the kindest to her, but those last few years...were really something. I''m grateful. Grateful for this boring little life of mine, and that she bothered to bring me into it. Grateful for my old grandfolks for everything and more. When they told me to keep doing my best as a chef in training, and how they were proud to have me.


    They''re also boring folks, grey coming in under the brown of their hair. Two eyes, one nose, nothing extra. They toiled and made a life of their own by hard work. They''re the very best kind of folks. Nothing can convince me otherwise.


    I was more than prepared to stay normal and boring in my own way. Learning my crafts slowly but surely.


    At 13 years old I was promoted to a jr. chef. Of course, it was a really demandingly busy time. Too busy.


    The honorable Lady Ventrella was pregnant for the first time. Her appetite was immense and her every craving was needed to be seen to as soon as possible. Whether that be at 12noon or 12 midnight.


    I don''t think I ever faced such a grueling time as in those last 6 months before the twins were born. Talking about a training regime? And the variety of exotic dishes we had to make? Or try to even make sense of?! Crazy! Oh and a lot of cheese too. Too much stinky imported cheese.


    Then the twins were born and it was a whole new kind of crazy in the household. Like not work-wise but this pressure, this tenseness. That''s the weight that important and extraordinary people hold, even when they''re quite present. The whole household was taken by it.


    But time went on and things got better. I even got a few vacations to spend time back at my grandparents. Make them some nice dishes, help out with the numbers and papers where I could.


    Life went on.


    But then the weird thing happened.


    Rosalia.


    I kid you not. One day she just rolled into the kitchen. Literally. I mean like as a little baby, barely able to stand and walk. She just, flopped her way round in.


    At this point, everyone is too terrified to do a thing because oh my goddess is that her?! The young miss was kind of a mini celebrity in the house at this point for this crazy stunt of hers. People would be reporting where and when they saw her like a dragon sighting in the breakrooms. And now it was our turn.


    The problem was that she never really left.


    She just stuck to the kitchens and never really went away. The upstairs maids could report her back up and Alfonso could pick her up as needed but she would just always...show up.


    It was honestly pretty heart-attack-inducing to be carrying a fresh pie, ready yourself set it down, and bam there''s Rosalia already there. About to be burned!


    It was weird but it was still in this strange domestic sort of feeling. As peaceful and boring as it was, it was fun. These every day new normal that I couldn''t help but be drawn into.


    Not just because she was so cute. I mean how was I supposed to know she had a kookoo crazy brain in there. All I knew was to spoon-feed her everything, literally everything. She just wanted to taste everything, even things toothless babies should be in no way eating. And when she started talking?


    Well, you know how she is when it comes to food and cooking. We laugh she was already so demanding in the womb.


    Maybe it was because no other jr. chef was as young as me. I mean they''re all like 17 or 18 or whatever. They were busy normally and I guess the whole, looking after Rosalia thing fell on me. Didn''t help that the kid just latched on to me after one dish.


    Risotto. This mushy gruel risotto. Plainer and more boring than anything.


    All her idea.


    I guess it all really started with that.


    I don''t know when plain and boring got so...well all this.


    Just like I never thought I''d ever be here. Sitting in this fancy butt resort room, not as a servant but a guest? And get to enjoy this, like did you see the outside hot springs on this place? Oh my!


    Just like I never thought these last few months, hell these last few years would ever happen to me. Like what?! I can''t. I can''t even begin to list them out.


    Well I could but I think that may take all week. And you''re probably really tired at this point and-"


    Georgie rambled, seemingly untired despite the late hour.


    Moonlight and hot spring steam filtered a hazy light through the alabaster windows. The strange tea felt warm on his fingertips, and Georgie finally took another sip. Wetting his throat that seemed to have spoken without rest.


    There was a little boy, and a much smaller snake, a tiny noodle really, snoozing away on what should have been his bed. But it was a big bed, bigger than what he was used to anyway. The boy''s soft brown curls felt richer than the blanket sheets, and Georgie couldn''t stop petting them. It was oddly calming.


    "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" a small teenager rolled over on the other bed finally spoke, revealing himself to not be asleep.


    "...Yeah." Georgie sipped at the tea they gave him.


    Georgie guesses he should know better about taking strange drinks. But this was fine. If he couldn''t trust this, then what could he?


    He was so stupid tonight. So stupid for a very long time. He doesn''t know how he''s made it alive all the way till now. Stupid, stupid, and nothing.


    He''s the common-born bastard of a sailor long gone and a whore long dead, who just wanted to be a little more of the good kind of normal. And he fucked up. He could have been fucked up, far worse than this.


    "Oh for god''s sake. Stop that barely holding it in thing and just cry. Yell. Scream! Just do the thing because a shitty thing happened to you. And yeah, yeah it was stupid and you''re stupid. You should know better if you ever been in a brothel let alone raised in one. So just go ahead and cry already." Yuna threw a pillow at the other boy, though it wasn''t a far distance between the twin beds.


    It wasn''t a coincidence that they''re roommates tonight. Georgie silently keeping close, as if maybe worried, as if maybe to feel just a hint safer. Yuna doesn''t know and he doesn''t care.


    Yuna hasn''t cared about much in a long time.


    The brat that snuck in with his stupid noodle could stay though.


    Carefully, Georgie moves to tuck Amar in properly. The boy''s small but steady breathing forced him to keep it in when he wanted to break down.


    Something about the sight of that felt a little too much like caring in Yuna''s eyes. Like a scene he might have lived through himself. When that little boy was even smaller, fresher from the damage when his nights of sleep weren''t so easy.


    "I''m not telling you my shit show life story in return you know?" Yuna snarked, keeping a close eye.


    "...I know. I didn''t mean it like that. I just, sorry, I talk alot some times and it, it just- I don''t want to..." Georgie begins to stutter, throat oddly dry.


    "Then don''t. You don''t have to talk about anything. Ever. It''s up to you and I don''t care. " Yuna gets fed up.


    The darker teenager jumps off the guest bed to drag Georgie outside, careful to not wake Amar up. The kid hasn''t been sleeping well during this trip with that Cass woman, and Yuna will stab someone if they wake him.


    "What? Where are we going?" Georgie fumbles, feeling the chill in his bare feet and through his night clothes.


    "Oh look. Your hot spings. " Yuna sarcastically drawls out. "So fancy yes. Ooo water from out the ground."


    All before splashing Georgie in the face with a handful of the slightly too warm water.


    "Oh no. Now I can''t tell shit if you''re crying or whatever. " the blond rudely says, muscles always a little too tense.


    Georgie chokes. It''s the steam. It''s the water. Sure, alright then. If any more comes dripping over and off his two eyes, his one nose then it was perfectly normal. Not out of place at all.


    He sobs to the light sound of running water and into his own hands. He cries something rude and ugly, brazenly falling into the thin hard shoulder of a ruder boy that doesn''t care.


    The tea left behind goes long cold before Georgie sobs it out, dries his face of the splashed water.


    "Thank you." he stops crying, says it as plainly and seriously as he can. Because he means it.


    "Whatever. " Yuna turns, pulling him back not exactly the way they came. But good enough, a walk enough to calm down from his outbursts.


    "I mean it. Thank you. You don''t have to tell me anything or ...anything. Just thank you." Georgie chews in inside of his cheek.


    He doesn''t say out loud how the younger boy before him reminds him of those times. Of pretty girls and pretty boys in not so lucky other port houses. He doesn''t dare think that about how expensive a price a face like that could go for.


    Yuna wasn''t boring or ordinary at all, as young as he was. Not now, not at the bar, and probably not ever. And Georgie feels himself cry for that.


    Georgie doesn''t dare whisper what he knows must have happened to the other boy, for him to react like that. And Yuna doesn''t yell or punch him for crying.


    He didn''t kill anyone tonight but he could have, wanted to. But he didn''t.


    When they finally make their way back to their room. Apparently, with an extra little roommate, they oddly don''t separate. They could have.


    But the bed here are large. Too large and luxurious for boys like them. They curl around an already sleeping little child, as awkward as it is. Too small and warm under the covers.


    "Thank you," Georgie whispers again, not expecting an answer. He just wanted it out there. Thank you. All the thank yous.


    Yuna frowns but doesn''t turn away or close his eyes, and Georgie waits with all the patience in the world.


    "....You know what freaks me out." the blonde finally spits out.


    "What?" Georgie asks into the pillow above Amar''s sleeping head.


    "That doll." Yuna says.


    "...The one the absolutely destroyed Rosalia and had the lord and lady rushing her upstairs? Yeah, it was ....something." the older boy agreed.


    Sure Rosalia was a genius, an oddity, and an extraordinary little girl in the making just by being who she is, but she was just a child. That easy to scare side of her was as humbling as it was a little cute.


    "No, you don''t get it." Yuna whispers with a slight hiss, and if Georgie didn''t know better he would likely think the constantly grumpy boy was scared himself.


    How cute.


    "Awww you''re still a child yourself. Don''t be scared." Georgie crooned, feeling Rosalia''s teasing laugh play in his head.


    "Fuck off. No that doll? I''m not kidding you, it didn''t have red hair. When we got it, fixed it up or whatever. The whole time. Not red. Tonight? Red." Yuna warned, shivering under the half covers.


    ".....suuuuuure." Georgie giggled.


    "Whatever, I don''t care. " Yuna growled at not being believed, clutching the living breathing teddy bear that was little Amar between them.


    Something in Georgie warmed at it all. The cuteness before him, the too small bed for three, the comfort of it all. He says thank you again and again in his head, even as he feels himself drift off.


    He doesn''t have to talk about it tonight, not right away. But he''s grateful. Crazy as it all was, he''s grateful for everything.


    He falls asleep just like that, same as how Yuna drops his guard. All his pretenses, and slips into a more peaceful sleep than usual, blaming the exhaustion.


    They don''t notice the peek of sleepy green eyes in their descents. Or how little hands pull up the covers on them all.


    Amar yawns, falling back in the center of it all.


    "Goodnight."


    ----

 137 Sprinkle of sal

    What horrors I cannot recite, nor fully recall. I will myself not to even bother, all nothing but perhaps the sickness and insanity of an old sinister, as I was as a modern woman. Inappropriate delusions, stained and set up by the creatures I call parents. I saw things that should not and will not ever be recited in any manner polite and decent company. Even if that is only to myself.


    Oh the shame, forgive me for I bear the weight of another person, an adult not less, from another world, beyond this childish squishy frame.


    But beyond that, the urgent matter of the moment takes precedent. A new terror beyond the understanding of the dull and uninformed of this world


    That first morning, after that awful night, I had awakened in the perfumed milky arms of my mother. A torturous event to be sharing any space with my parents quarters, as much as Lilyanne lives co-sleeping with the parentals. My fainting routine, and ill-travelling constitution, further cementing an entirely wrong idea of my health to not only my mother but all staff affected by the family orders.


    I''m not the delicate one! Other than my sensibilities that is. Well no more than any normal toddler, we''re squishy.


    The steam outside my viewing window rise in slow mockery, trees turning colors wave their branches above me. The world a still.


    All, save I....let me out already!!!


    I''ve been grounded! For my health? Blah blah blah they just want to ground me because I''m me! Boo hoo hoo what unfairness it is to be a child so small and useless. Controlled to my parents every whim.


    I have been placed in confinement. A specialized dungeon of my own. Yes, my little maid and assistant are still around to serve me as needed but still. A solitary grounding. One of rest, recuperation and homework. Blasted homework!


    Father is stealing my ideas again. Since the grampa version of revelations were made officially known to my parents, father has poked and prodded in his own way what I''m willing to give about the upcoming famines.


    But it''s not like I know it all? I was a spoiled little girl buried in homework and some pretty painful tutoring. Tutoring I realize now must have been a sort of failure on my part, despite completing the lessons.


    I don''t have talent. That''s what father said, in this life, in this timeline. I don''t have talent.


    I definitely know how to feel pain. Yet no way of turning it off.


    How frustrating, and he won''t tell me more. All he does now is hand me more homework and say "listen to your mother" as he runs off the, oh I don''t know, overwork himself on my warnings and ideas. How rude.


    And so, when my days at the resorts are not taken over by playing teddy bear to mother or babysitter to Lilyanne, I am placed in my own suite, my prison in the disguise of luxury.


    Today I cower in the far corner, with all the lights turned on despite the daylight hours. If I do not turn I do not have to really look at where mother or Lilyanne left it last. The windowsill.


    A cursed cloth and stitch doll, a sick plaything of human resemblance. Admittedly it is no deadwood mummified Kitty, an innocent appearance in comparison.


    Too innocent.


    Wrong, like make-up on a corpse. It looks like someone took a vintage Raggedy Ann doll, stuffed the murderous soul of horror movie icons Abbabelle and Chucky, then put a Ponyo filter on it. Creepy Ponyo? Yes, yes it is possible. After all the horror movie training torture I''ve been put through, I would know!


    Black eyes, wretched button bead eyes with something sinister to them. I can just feel it. As if you dare to look too closely and the reflection you see might not be your own anymore. Very Coraline. Like the bad part if she gets buttons sewn on her eyes or something.


    Did I mention the very worst part? Its hair.


    This wretched shade of dried blood washed and faded only a layer. This very specific shade of red, yet not, but in sunlight glows as bright a ruby as my father''s. Such a color should not be possible in the material yet there it sits. As if cut from my own head, my ugliness for all the world to see. It unnerves me in too many ways to count.


    A taunt, a joke, a promise of evil coming for me should I ever let my down my guard.


    *knock knock*


    AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! IT''S COMING FROM THE WINDOW, IT''S ATTACKING! IT''S FINALLY ATTACKING!!!?!


    "Rosa? What are you doing under the bed?"


    Oh my god, the doll ate Amar! It even has the kid''s confused voice! Hey wait....


    "Death! Get out or get the death sentence! And take that with you!" I scream at the criminal behind this entire thing, throwing not just pillows but heavy-handed homework materials.


    I am proud to say my strength is sufficient to toss books not. Aim and fire! How dare!


    A present? A souvenir?! No no no souvenirs are foreign snacks or stupid novelty items, not scary dollies!!! Too far! How dare you place this curse of a scary as hell Ponyo-Coraline-Annabelle in my presence!


    "But I did? What''s a Ponyo? Oh is that the doll''s name, it''s very long? Oh so you do like it!" the troublesome little child, hiding like he''s in a game of wack a mole, pops back up from the window just long enough for me to get a good hit in. A scroll finally bouncing off his little head.


    Score!


    Wait no- this is not the time to cheer!


    "It is not! Get it away from me and get back in the dungeons! Death! Death sentence for you!" I cry, slowly running out of things to throw at and out the window.


    "um? Can I come back in now?" Amar asks, probably still hanging on outside, hiding from further missile attacks.


    "No! Still banned! Go die!"


    "But fishies?" he peeks up, barely visible.


    "Stupid fish spoons mean nothing! Next time just get that and not kitty V2!!!"


    For good measure, I reach into my purse to throw said novelty fish spoon. It spins very well, almost like a boomerang. That and I really did run out of stuff I can throw. Not my pillows, no more losing pillows.


    "No, not that fish. These ones." Amar senses that I''m out of ammo, pulling himself up and over the window just in time.


    Score! Two points! The spoon goes smacking him on the head again and I really need to stop damaging the minion''s deficient little brain any further.


    "Fishies?" he rubs his head with a free hand. The other one dragging along some still wet and dripping fish the size of myself. Actual legit fish, with scales, eyes and everything.


    "That''s disgusting." I grimace.


    "But fish?" the brat repeats,so stupidly it''s actually as sad as it''s cute. He tilts his head in confusion as he holds the catch up higher, as if that could somehow change the fact that in front of me there are two raw healthy freshly caught perfect specimens of fat fat fat juicy sashimi material....


    "Chop chop it up." I relent, swallowing down my drool.


    Gosh, darn it this gluttonous little body.


    Soon my suite''s desk has turned into a chopping board. Other needed supplies kept in my baggie just for times like these. Plates. Chopsticks. A wheat balsamic experiment that''s the closest I can get to soy sauce, another little bottle of lemon juice, mmmmmmm. Just missing ginger and wasabi. And rice of course, oh how I miss rice.


    "Chop in that way," I instruct the right grain and slice, eyes focused on watching how an ugly fish can turn into a delicate delicious delicacy in but a few movements of a knife.


    "Thinner." I point at the skinned and cleaned fillets of delectable meat, whites and pink of my salmon slowly blooming way.


    "Thicker!" I change my directions from the strong tail to the decadent belly. Otoro, Chutoro, Akami, all my parts of the fishies!


    "Now chop this radish really fine till it looks like a straw pasta. " I hand the minion a mild white radish. Gotta have my garnish and dressing.


    Do not ask why I keep fresh vegetables in my purse. I just do. Ok?


    Magic purse, why the hell not?....Don''t look at me like that Amar! Chop chop!


    The door creaks open, my actual paid servants literally dropping


    "Y-young miss, it has been almost 2 hourglasses and y-your- eeeeppp!" Abbey shrieks, tripping backward into Georgie''s arms.


    "What the- Rosalia why is everything everywhere? Did a storm go through...what going on in here?" Georgie asks with a hand in the air, halting in place with a slight twitch to his brow. He rights up my whimpering little maid, who looks oddly frozen for the panic she just screamed out and crosses his arms at us kids.


    "Chop!" I point and exclaim to the raw slices of flesh.


    "Fishies?" Amar also points, but with a slightly bloody knife. Ah yes nothing wrong with this picture at all.


    Sorry Abbey. It''s really just fish, please unfreeze.


    "I see, does that mean the ''death sentence'' on Amar is lifted? Are you two getting along again?" Georgie sighs, rolling the refreshment cart all the way in just as soon as he navigates a still stone stiff Abbey out the way.


    "Hmmm I shall consider it after I eat, " I decide, going back to urging the brat to keep slicing in order to free himself from any death warrants under my family''s power.


    Bring on the sashimi!


    "Right right right, such beautiful cuts of fish. Now arrange them on the radish. Yes just like that. Hmmm, how about a lemon? Layer them on top. Oh oh oh mix the white fish and the salmon, it makes a rose! Here gimmie a knife, wait no I have another in my purse." I can feel myself speak without control, in the same way, I must hold back my natural saliva production.


    "My young miss, I must ask you to stop." Georgie deadpans, confiscating not only my knife but my sushi chef in training.


    As if Amar''s the one being tainted and in need of protection, Georgie slips away the knives and slowly backs away with the kidnapped minion in his hold.


    "Fine. More sashimi for me. Thank you for the food~" I place a raw head on display, sprinkle some already cut pretty citrus peels, and pour my imitation soy sauce in a little dish. Itadakimasu!


    As I slurp down my first bite of salmon sashimi for the season, the servents all go insane in their own ways.


    Frozen Abbey somehow pales even further, falling like a stone with a heavy thud. Meanwhile Georgie''s jaw drop, he shivers and shakes with a maniac sort of look as if facing a horror movie monster. Much like how I shake at the haunted Ponyo doll. Georgie holds Amar up like he''s ready to run away with the child. And only that child.


    Hey Georgie, I know you''ve had a rough time a while back but I think you''re getting who''s in charge here mixed up.


    You''re all lucky I''m very busy right now. Dipping my sashimi, Hmm let''s see what this white one tastes like, mmmm. How light and refreshing! Kinda like a snapper? Yes this one tastes better with the fake ponzu sauce.


    "Don''t be scared, Rosa''s just like that. Last year she ate the fish straight from the river, like a baby bear about to hibernate. Scary but still baby fluffy and cute! It''s less scary if you think about it like that." Amar''s voice gently comforts my fearful or near unconscious servents.


    However, I don''t think I like that telling very much.


    "...baby bear." Georgie says to himself, eyes still focused on me in trepidation "...baby wolfbear..."


    "...my young miss...." Abbey silently squeaks, barely moving her pale lips.


    "...just a baby bear cub, nothing but a ...cute.... maneating puppy cub." Georgie continues to repeat, chanting in order to believe it.


    "Don''t make me put you all back into the dungeons." I munch on my sashimi.


    Of course, I wouldn''t actually do that, just like how I think no one took my declaration of a property-wide brat death sentence seriously. But goodness gracious is the discipline here bad. What happened to the level of fear and well trained, you have no choice, respect that I used to instill as a villainess?


    "But I just got out?" Amar complains with a soft little sigh.


    "What?!" Georgie looks at the tiny kid in his arms in surprise, the wheels spinning in his pretty little head. "They put you back in?! Just you?! How long? But- no wait who else was down there with you? Yuna? Is that where he-"


    "Um, yeah but he got out faster and is okay. I think. Cass and I had to stay lots longer, oh and she''s still there. " Amar recounts.


    "The nail polish and tailoring subject is in the dungeons?!" I feel a slice of fish drop from my mouth.


    No no no bad sashimi, get back into my mouth. Mmmm it''s just too fresh. Hmm needs more soy sauce. Stay dead fishie, let me eat you!


    "....."


    "Come help me finish this, then we can go visit the dungeons again! I have questions to ask. " I excitedly hold out my chopsticks. This is a lot of fish and a single girl can''t eat it all, not without some more variety. Ahhh how I miss those gourmet meals in hotspring resorts back on earth, specifically in certain countries.


    Ignorant of my thoughts, everyone seems to slowly back away even further, even the frozen Abbey on the ground. How rude but not the point.


    "Georgie? Abbey, try it! It''s really good, Amar? Come on you''ve eaten this before!"


    Once again Georgie turns to give the kiddo in his hold a very strange look. Abbey stays petrified, glued to the ground, though a fearful glance is spared upwards. Amar himself seems to be considering if he should just throw himself back out the window in an escape.


    "Come on, try it. Don''t make me order you all. Really, it''s a fresh deliciousness that can''t be described! I just can''t finish and I wanna go interrogate- err I mean visit the dungeons faster!" I smile and advertise.


    "Georgie? I''ll be ok. Please throw me out the window?" Amar begs the wrong way.


    "No." Georgie grimaces. Both at the fish and the window, especially since my suite is quite a drop. At least two stories.


    "But fish..." Amar says solemnly, to both their glances and shivers my way.


    "There has to be another way." Georgie whispers.


    My god why are they acting so strangely? Hmm maybe I shouldn''t have displayed the raw gaping fish heads in that manner? I suppose it does look a bit intimidating to foreigners.


    Wait...I''m one of those foreigners now too.


    "I-If the y-young m-miss...s-says so...w-we m-must." Abbey, wobbly in the knees, makes her way over with a grim expression. Like a girl walking to duel with a life and honor on the line.


    "Abbey no, don''t sacrifice yourself like that to the whims of the young miss. " Georgie cries after her, yet making not a single step closer. In fact he seems to be backing to the window himself.


    "R-r-remember m-me." she cries, glancing back tearfully one last time as she reaches my table.


    Hey hey hey why so serious?


    "Georgie get back here with Amar, you guys too! Stop being such babies. How will you know you don''t like it till you try it. "


    "I already did," Amar shivers in Georgie''s arms, giving everyone the entirely wrong impression. He makes it seem like I tortured force-fed him something horrible.


    Oh picky children.


    "Well try it again, this time with sauce. It''s much better with lemon and sauce? Come on, I''ll even take down the notice orders on you. "


    Not like any of the guards took it seriously, otherwise, they would have captured the brat by now. Or wait, was that what the whole earlier dungeon stint was?


    Ah whatever, he''s still in one piece and that''s good enough.


    The minion seems to droop with defeat, allowing Georgie to sacrifice him by hopping out his arms. He drags his feet a little but still manages to pass Abbey. Who by the way seems to be in mental peril, having a staring contest with one of the decapitated fish heads.


    Amar pouts, doing his version of glaring. But he still opens up as I stab a chopstick worth of sashimi down his little mouth. The glare only grows wet and teary as his cheeks puff up. Until he appears to swallow it down, all without chewing and definitely without a hint of enjoyment.


    "Is it over? Are you not mad anymore?" he sniffs, looking two seconds away from crying. The little mochi sized liar.


    "You did so well Amar!" "S-so b-brave." "You didn''t have to put up with Rosalia like that. " "w-w-what does it t-taste like?" "Are you feeling alright? Of course, you don''t. Do you need some tea with honey?"


    My own servants cheer and rush to comfort him, completely ignoring me. I now sentence them to eat more sashimi.


    Go on you fools. Stop stalling.


    As if taking courage from a now queasy looking child, Abbey takes a shakey stab and bite. Like ripping a bandage, she swallows it whole. Then promptly screams.


    Maybe not in the good way.


    "It''s m-MOVING in my m-mouth!!!A-and d-d-own-" she cries to Amar''s sympathetic pats on the back.


    Is not! It''s just a little too fresh, and the sodium kinda gives it a yummy twitch to the muscles. Mmm so tasty.


    Wait. Georgie? Georgie, why are you taking out a fire stone and a grill? No! What the hell are you doing?


    "What I should have done at the start. Cook!" he says grimly, throwing it into the fireplace, immediately heating up.


    "Nooooo not my fishies!" I cry for the waste, but it is too late.


    Georgie, now stronger and faster than ever after the bullshit that was bootcamp, takes away my plates. Heads and all. Throwing them, my sauce, and condiments onto the heating grill.


    "Pass the oil and honey Abbey," he says in all seriousness.


    "Y-yes! R-right away!" Abbey nearly trips in presenting the goods from the cart.


    "Nooooooooooooo!!! Sashimi-chan!!!!" I throw myself in front of the flames but the heat is too much.


    My thin slice sashimi is turning into.... grilled fish!


    "It''s over, it''s finally over." Georgie sighs, brushing the last of the oils and seasoning, turning the remnants of the fish to cook.


    Then he turns to pour some kiddy safe herbal tea. His skills growing ever the more efficient, a little more professionally smooth from watching Alfonso. He pours and mixes in a generous serving of honey, feeding to Amar by hand as if it were an anti-poison.


    "Is it really?" Amar weakly looks up and over the flames.


    "No more raw flesh." Georgie promises, encouraging the boy to take down sweetened warm sips of tea.


    "...m-my....h-hero..." Abbey hiccups, and dare I say it, swoons?


    Everyone is so unfairly rude to my beloved sashimi.


    ...But grilled fish collars are yummy too. Mmmm honey balsamic salmon is also a good flavor combo. This is also a good and acceptable offering.


    The underlings all sigh in a sort of relief behind my back, but I shall excuse them for their ignorance and poverty. They''re just not ready for the greatness that is sashimi. It''s too new and brilliant for their tastebuds. I need to start on them, with kiddy sushi. Oh if only I had the rice and seaweed!


    After the impromptu snack time and clean up, I instruct everyone to take me down to the dungeons despite their denials.


    "Can you not stay out of trouble Rosalia?" Georgie chides, still cutting up more bits of fruit for dessert.


    "B-but young miss. How?" Abbey brings up a good point.


    "I don''t think you can get in normally? But I got out through the vents and tunnels the first time." Amar raises his eyes in thought. Heartily munching when it comes to fruit and not raw cuts of fish.


    While his favorite pomegranates are coming back into season, the kid easily chows down on any kind of fruit. Georgie easily keeping them coming from the refreshment cart. Figs. Sour Cherries. Prickly pears. Nectarines of every color. It''s not really a problem or anything, but there''s this one odd little thing I can''t help but notice.


    The salt.


    "Why do you eat it like that?" I ask. Watching as cherries and fleshy fruits top and roll themselves in sprinkles of sea salt before making their way down Amar''s or Georgie''s mouths.


    "Hmmm? It tastes sweeter that way. Say ahh?" Amar aims and throws a slice of peach into my face.


    First, you''re hit with saline on the tongue, the sweetness delayed. But then it''s even sweeter, not cloying, more floral, and even juicier. I already knew that, of course I do. As another person, I used to be quite generous with my salt, chili, lime, and tamarind. A lot of fun flavor combinations, lots of different fruit stalls and different cultures of shops all in one city alone. Let alone a world.


    But no one here eats it that way.


    "I was surprised too when I saw it more common than not on that raid trip, but it''s pretty good with some things. Yuna prefers to eat a lot of fruit that way too," Georgie remarks, salting his cherries.


    "M-may I try?" Abbey shyly requests from listening in, turning slightly pink.


    To which Amar turns and plops another piece right into her slightly open mouth. She chews in both surprise and a slight hint of disappointment, before awkwardly smiling in thanks at Amar.


    "It''s a little strange...." Abbey tries, meek eyes shifting elsewhere.


    Hmmmm my little maid is the strange one. She''s been acting a bit odd lately? Was it the shock of the first time in a dungeon jail? Or is it perhaps something far worse....puberty!?


    Well, only one way to find out. Process of elimination!


    "I''ll knock first and see if I can get back in the dungeons just by being me, and if that doesn''t work we''ll sneak in through the vents. " I simply say, waving around my privileges.


    My servants sigh, while Amar cluelessly shrugs and finishes off the sweet snacks. But the funny part is that in the end my suggestion actually works.


    "Let us through!" I go knocking down the right hall.


    It of course does not work as easily as that. No walls open up and no guards even show. It stays as silent and peaceful as if there''s nothing there. As peaceful as a place can be with a toddler raising a fuss.


    Behind me, I hear sighing again, most likely from Georgie. Abbey closely and nervously follows along, more than a little traumatized the last time she let me have my way. While Amar still does nothing but ride along, blinking up blankly in confusion.


    "Ahem. I, Rosalia Ventrella, demand to be let through. " I knock again, for that is how this usually works.


    That and Georgie is probably too large to fit through the vents, while Abbey is getting there. Not that I think they''ll agree to sneaking in like that.


    "Oh come on" I smack at the walls, trying to figure out where to unmagic or whatever this thing myself if I have to.


    "....we can ask Vincent?" Amar weakly offers, but only after I tirelessly hit every stone in my reaching distance.


    "Well where is he?" I huff and turn.


    What''s is this? A side quest? Find this and that person to even get to the quest. All I want is to finally get some time to interrogate- ahem interview this nice lady on where she''s getting her nail polish from. Maybe more, if there''s marketing potential in it. I''m not a thug? She''ll be properly confiscated for spitting out info.


    "Um, mud? The bath spring outside but with the hot sandy mud?" Amar answers, to the best of his poor memory.


    Ah yes. Mud.


    While I''m glad Vincent is fully enjoying himself for once, especially at a hot spring resort of all places. Getting a new hobby besides begging to die. However, I am beginning to suspect he has a spa addiction. Well, that''s a mood I suppose. Nothing like some good pampering to rest up.


    "Rosalia, you can''t just burst into someone bath and-" Georgie starts to complain, following along my hurried little steps.


    "I''m not, we''re in public. Or well as public as our quarters can be. " I make to step outside, trotting along the pathways to where the extra warm sands are.


    Such a lovely little resort, with all the privacy that money and status can afford. My employees are benefitting quite well by enjoying these along with me no? It more than makes up any first nights, or more, in the dungeons.


    I''m not even asking for them to really get back to work, just a little favor.


    "Vincent are you decent!" I ask across a screen to the section I guess him to be in. Hot sand is also a relaxing lay about.


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!? Rosalia?!!!!!" a very Vincent voice screams.


    I shall take his screaming as a no, and will respect his privacy. Oh ho ho ho I appreciate the fact that someone still knows shame.


    "Okay. Clean up when you can, and then can you let us into my father''s dungeon."


    "By the gods of death no??? I don''t want to die by his hands?!" Vincent shrieks, still sounding shaken by my sudden arrival.


    What? It''s like I''m sitting right next to him or anything. I''m just looming right outside this screen window, or well underneath. If he peeks out he may even see my short little head.


    "You''ll die anyway. I just want to talk to the one called Cass."


    "Why?! She''s mean!" Vincent whimpers, sounding like he''s trying to bury himself back.


    "A little girl time I suppose?" I wonder if I should just break in, just to make sure Vincent is safe. He''s not overheating in there is he?


    Oh, but it would not do for I, a young proper lady, to intrude.


    "Amar? Oh wait no Georgie! Georgie please go in and convince Vincent for me." I ask the silent spectators of the male members of my entourage.


    Before Georgie can even turn me down in that flat outright way of his, a messy clattering and clunking goes on behind the screen. The sounds of pure rushing panic.


    "Wait! No- I''''m-Im definitely not decent!" Vincent cries out, sounding mildly in pain another another crashing sound takes place.


    "Uhhh, do you need some help?" my assistant worriedly offers.


    "No! I mean, no-no thank you. Ack! Ouch, oh god no...I mean, I''m good!"


    Somehow there are many sounds that don''t seem like they belong. A trumpet. A hiss. A propeller. But hey, what do I know of the finery of how Vincent likes his sand baths.


    "You sure about that?" Georgie asks in response.


    The flimsy doorway goes slamming open, Vincent half hazardly stumbling out, carrying his outer coat. His dark hair is a little damp, recovering slowly, and his pale flesh flushes easily with pink from the heat and steam. Maybe he was enjoying a drink with his relaxing lounge, for his eyes take a glaze and his face an even stronger flush upon glancing out into the open world.


    "I''m good...now..." he falls a little silent, a little more than dazed, before quickly pulling himself together in almost a panic. " Th-thank you. For offering I mean. Um hi!"


    "Georgie, he sounds a tad drunk. Do help him. " I understand and pity his state.


    I did after all interrupt his downtime, and I''ve come to learn Vincent is the sort who needs a call in advance. As if to plan his every interaction. Ah yes the awkwardness of teenagers.


    "I''m not-I didn''t drink or anything..." Vincent bashfully tries to deny, redding at perhaps getting caught.


    "It''s fine, here let me." Georgie offers a hand and as a young butler would, helps Vincent tie on his sloppily done clothes.


    The poor thing though. Vincent freezes and flushes in shame, the entire time. It almost hurts to watch. Actually, it does hurt. In some odd second-hand embarrassment? Huh?


    "Sorry about Rosalia. You don''t have to put up with her every sudden whim, but thank you." Georgie jokes, smiling wryly at me as he works.


    The second-hand embarrassment hits me once again when Vincent makes a strange dying sound, between a croak and a thank you. Eyes still very drunk, trying to play normal and failing.


    But Georgie is a good sport and doesn''t mention it. Only tugs along Vincent with his arm and a shoulder to hang on to, helping the poor gangly older teen walk without falling. Wow how much did Vincent have to drink to get to this messed up state? And alone? That''s not very safe or healthy of him.


    "Rosa, you''re very mean. But a little funny." Amar says in passing.


    Though I don''t know where that came from, I really don''t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. It sounded like a compliment from the laughter in his voice. Following along with a still awkwardly stiff Abbey, we make our ways back inside.


    "Oh- err um. H-Here will do!" Vincent has us stop at another part of the building.


    He struggles to right himself up. As if some great weight of drunkness keeps him from separating from Georgie''s shoulder but shame making it unbearable to stay on any longer. Face still flushes, a strange expression on his normally emo teenaged face. As if he were fighting a smile and an abstract scream at all once.


    Amar giggles softly under his breath and I feel a nagging suspicion tickle at me.


    I look back and forth at every person here, looking even more carefully. Completely ignoring the boring process of opening dungeon door number two and instead at the employees. Georgie laughing and comforting an awkward Vincent, saying it was all fine to the necromancer''s nerves and weak knees. Vincent himself, fumbling far more than usual. Words lost for exceedingly too long pauses at a time, pale goosebumps across the exposed peeks of his skin.


    Even my little Abbey, slowly creaking to a halt with each of her movements. Her knuckles going a little white from clenching her skirts. Line of sight a little too focuses on something that''s not me.


    Oh ho ho ho!


    Is this...puberty!?!


    I smack at Amar, silently hiding behind him and pointing at each and every one of these teenagers. Something that he helplessly smiles and nods at, much to my delightfully bad tastes.


    Ahahahahahahahha! Oh. Oh..., my poor employees. Oh, this is going to be awful.


    "Really now, it''s fine. You''re pretty light, don''t worry about it. " Georgie laughs off Vincent''s very bad attempts to pry himself off, not with the way he''s swooning. Knees too weak to straight up just run away screaming down the hall, as Vincent''s dead inside expression tells me he wants to do.


    My beauty regiments, and punishment, may have worked a little too well on my young assistant.


    Soft looking clear skin, not too pale or sun-damaged in any way. Straight shiny brown hair, falling soft over warm honey nut cereal eyes with all the patience of a babysitter. Increasingly strong thighs and shoulders despite that baby face yet to mature. A little too plain, a lot too normal, but comforting. Very easy to call cute


    I am so proud and fearful all at once at how Georgie is turning out. Oh, good job me!


    "Oh. Good job weak useless one. You are perhaps not entirely useless. He is pretty in that young and soft way. Like a sand gerbil." says a bound prisoner getting tortured.


    "That''s not what we meant by speak?" croaks out one of the very tired looking guards.


    "Oh right. Oh of course. Please go on with it. " Cass offers, nodding with her head held up high.


    The door to an iron maiden sort of coffin slams on her. Spikes and all.


    "Oh my god?!!" Georgie screams.


    "Your stupid torture device does not account for height. The points on this will kill anything above or below the right height. What information do you get from dead tall nobles or dead short peasants? What if you need to torture a midget? Then what? Do you make him tiny spikey coffin?" Cass somehow still manages to complain behind the horrible thing, very much alive and sounding more annoyed than anything.


    I think I like her.


    Two presiding guards sigh as they take notes. Another one shocked at the sight of us, calling for another hidden one to go ring a bell.


    That better not be the Rosalia alarm. Either way I better act fast.


    "Excuse me. May I have some words with the interrogate?" I politely ask from between the bars.


    "....." the guards slowly back away from me. Sometimes they yell strange codes. But mostly they seem to be preoccupied with bowing once and getting the hell away.


    What am I? A liability waiting to happen? How rude.


    "And another thing? Some of your bars are so wide even a chubby child could slip through without aid. Look. Right there they could easily go in and out from the side." Cass kicks open the iron maiden, taking a gasp of fresh air.


    Or well as fresh as a dungeon can get. It''s probably better than inside the more decorative than anything iron maiden. The sight of it practically has Abbey fainting again in the back there.


    "Am I done? I know I said I preferred this over watching strange married couples but really? " she looks around, asking up at the retreating guards.


    "Cass, they''re hiding hendoon¨¦ in the kitchens but they''re very small and not very sweet." Amar runs right through the bars, his little frame more than skinny enough.


    He pulls up to cut and undo the bindings on her hands, freeing her from what may have been an inconvenience rather than anything actually incarcerating.


    "Ah then we shall go chill one in a stream and have it with feta, mint and a bit of tea." she stretches her wrists with graceful movements, manicured hands on full display.


    Such dull plain colors. Soft almost nude in tone, but just a hint of dark reddish-pink. Nail polish, shiny pretty nail polished nails.


    "I think Rosa wants to play with you a bit though, she came all this way here?"


    When Cass turns her head my way, as if merely glancing, the sounds of her earrings jingle. For a moment she raises a strong eye brow in questioning but respectfully bows with a neutral and polite smile.


    "What service can this humble servant be of use for today, young child of this house?"


    She is a very suspicious person really. And oddly too comfortable in the dungeons. I don''t think she''s particularly very powerful, but something about her keeps her surviving spikes and torture. Hidden cards to the power she''s revealed before. The trained way she speaks in particular only furthers the mystery.


    "I like your nails." I feel my vision zooming between the bars still.


    Who cares about hidden pasts and mysterious powers. Give me your nail polish secrets!


    "And your pants." I also add on, maybe still hyper-focusing on the foreign things that may or may not make me money. If anything they''re an interest and convenience to me, and that''s good enough.


    "This servant is afraid she cannot grasp what so pleases the young miss Ventrella to present properly. Mercy, this servent prays. Please, inspect the parts of this lowly one as the young miss sees fit. "she bows once more, rising closer to hold out her hands.


    "Ooooooh" I maybe sparkle at nail polish. Glossy nail polish.


    Before I can ask what products she uses or what they''re made out of, a strange rumbling shakes through the dungeon.


    "Why?" Georgie sighs, rolling his eyes back even as two other maybe smitten teens somehow fall over him in shock and natural instinct.


    "Because fishie," Amar says as if that somehow made any damn sense.


    Water starts rushing and flooding from certain pipes, some of them plain while other steaming hot. Legit tiny and pretty fish swimming in from the boiling pipes.


    Ok then nevermind. It''s making some sense. Not really? What is causing all this? But we really should get out of here? Let''s take this outside?!


    More rumbling shakes through and Cass nods her head quickly, calling for Amar to follow as she quickly picks me up to book it before the water reaches us. A burst of the wall seeps with a rush of water, two somewhat familiar screams riding down with it.


    "Awesome coming through!!! Whooooopeeeeee!" floats Lukas, riding through the pipes apparently on what I assume to be stolen speed float.


    For there is no way Gable would allow grampa to get away with this. Where did Lukas even come from?!


    "Damn it damn it damn it I just wanted some watermelon!" whines babysitter number two, Yuna sitting pretty on said float with his maybe stolen fruit.


    "See Cass, they do have your hendoon¨¦. Or watermelon? That''s what they''re called. " Amar skips a bit as we run for it.


    A little futilely since the water is catching up fast. Too fast really.


    I wish I could say that somewhere along the line we were heroically rescued. Perhaps some cool well times moves got us on the float and we rode out to safety. We escaped just in the nick of time.


    But no. We''re practically washed out of another tunnel-like sewer drainage, down little bumpy waterfalls. All the way outside to an even more isolated part of the resort bordering the untamed forests.


    There Tamera lays on a resort chair, snoring away under a sun hat by the lazy warm waterfall. The very one we all fall. Ouch.


    "That was fun! Oh wow everyone''s here! Look look look at all the hot fish I caught this year! HA! Amar! Rosa! I definitely beat both you combined!" Lukas exclaims, perfectly dry and happy on his float. An exasperated Yuna jumping off the dry land with the melon haul.


    Excuse me as I go murder this child, then put a death warrant on him across all Ventrella controlled properties. Here Lukas, just float a little closer so I can-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!


    What''s THAT doing here?!! What the fuck?! Bad doll! Very bad doll! How did Ponyo-Cora- Annabelle get here!!!!?


    "Rosalia, please calm down. Please. Why. It''s just a doll." Georgie pleads from where I somehow managed to climb and clamor all over his face.


    "Did I miss a party?" Tamera wakes up drowsily from her nap.


    "Effective torture, that mess." Cass drags herself out the water, wringing her soaked clothes and hair.


    "Eeeep u-um-um" Abbey stutters, floating along in fear, until Cass reaches in to pull her out.


    "I should have stayed in the sand." Vincent also makes no attempts to undrown himself, forcing the older woman to also reach in for his ass.


    "What about my fishes? Look look look!" Lukas clamors around with no one to teach him a lesson, not even creepy obviously haunted dolls.


    "Rosalia please let go of my face." Georgie wetly tries prying me off.


    Oh what a miserable day, no wait- a life. What misery I am passing. Nothing I can recite or recall. It''s all just too random. Where was any of this in the villainess guide? Nowhere! None!


    "Does anyone have salt?" Yuna asks, already finding a rock to start chopping watermelons with a very wet and soaked Amar.


    What?


    Why is everyone looking at me?


    Back away from my purse you ungrateful employees! I do not keep absolutely everything in there.


    ...Okay I do but not like that. No, I said back away!


    "Georgie no, don''t put me down, it''s scary down there! Fine, take all my snacks just don''t leave me with Ponyo-Cora-Annabelle!!!" even I can hear myself screech.


    When will my destruction flag events come up already? These unexpected events of my childhood are taking way too much out of me. I swear none of this I could have ever imagined before in the life of Rosalia.


    But here we are I guess.


    Might as well have a slice of watermelon. Chop chop. Yeah sure with some salt, tastes kinda funny but it does make it sweeter. Strange as it is around here.


    Yes, I''ll be eating it on top of Georgie''s head. No one dare put me down. That''s an order!


    ------------------------

 138 Halloweentown AU shorts

    Darkness falls across the land. The Midnight Hour is close at hand. You''ve crossed the line, this Hallow''s eve, beyond the veil the day in spells.


    Do not fear. The undead won''t be harmed here, usually.


    If you''re among the living, alas, if you are a puny pathetic human, maybe fret. Just a bit.


    If you simply lost your way, simply turn back the way you came. But if you dare, if you can''t fight it, the long winding path shall lead to wide-open gates. In this upside-down, where it is always...Halloween.


    Who am I you ask? You may call me little red, yes yes yes as in little red riding hood. I''ve heard it all before.


    And why haven''t I killed you all yet, you may be thinking?


    Of course, you''re thinking that. I''m ferocious and terrifying! See my fangs, see them! Also don''t look under the hood, it''s very rude.


    Well now, let this be a little secret between us... I used to be a human once.


    No no no, don''t look at me with those terrified pitiful eyes. I may be very small but I didn''t die small. This is a very normal size for a monster my age! I''m only about 360 years old...


    I understand that''s quite a lot in human years. Again I was one myself, a very long time ago...but that doesn''t matter now. Everyone I knew then is long gone....


    Anyways what''s new down in the human realm!? Given that I''m only a little over 360 years old, no one will let me out! Especially my parents, you don''t need to know. I''m toddler locked!


    Have you discovered easier space travel yet? Are hoverboards a thing yet? Or did the apocalypse already come? Tell me tell me!


    More importantly,did you bring any snacks?


    "Found you. Rosa? Who are you talking to?" rustles a small bundled figure from the bushes.


    Slightly dirtied linen wrappings from playing outside worn on an otherwise tiny little mummy, mostly all white. It tilts its head in a way that was almost cute, like a stuffed doll, as it seems to sniffs the air. When it blinks through the bandages, you might catch a hint of big puppy dog green eyes under the dark.


    "Ack! Don''t scare me like that- you oh never mind, how dare you reveal my noble name to these puny mortals?" I find myself barking. Also, there''s a bit of a breeze behind me.


    "Your tail is out, Rosa. It''s wagging lots. You really like humans don''t you?" points out one of my little henchmen.


    No one saw that! No one!!!


    "Rosalia! This is where you ran off to!? Alfonso is going to run my tail dry if anyone finds out I lost you to the borders again!" chases a relatively neat and cute teenaged boy right behind, all soft cheeks and soft brown fur on his ears and tail. Freshly cleaned and well maintained, probably smelling of soap. Unlike me, his fangs and claws can be fully controlled, but his worry pops them out.


    I''m suddenly lifted up into the air. Stinky snack less human hands, grabbing me from the back of my red hood and cloak. They hold me, hostage, as they back away from Georgie, the teenaged were. Who is admittedly the oldest, largest, and probably most intimidating-looking threat. Key work, ''looking''.


    Meanwhile, another one of them grabs Amar, holding the little wrapped boy like an artifact to be stolen.


    Which he kinda sorta is, no lie. How much do mummies go for in the human market these days? Especially kid sized ones? He''s only about six centuries old though so it can''t be that much?


    Wait how much would I go for?


    Baby monsters? Halflings? Well....purebred halfling. My father is a fancy schmancy pureblood old vampire while my mother is a big bad wolf. My grandfather himself is the original big bad wolf. I''m a designer!


    Oh poopie, I''m expensive.


    Ahhhh they''re bad humans.


    Gosh darn it why can''t we ever get some cute adventuring humans with snacks and video games or something?! Guess they never do come to these parts of the woods, especially not on a night like this. Shame.


    "M-my y-young miss!" screams a clumsy rag doll, falling over herself in fumbling over.


    "Stay back Abbey, they have weapons," Georgie warns, ears and tail up on high alert.


    The human hunters, I shall assume they''re hunters, all keep their eyes on Georgie, deeming him the greatest threat. In the back up, they slowly merge, as if to put Amar and me in some cage and getaway vehicle.


    How boring, it doesn''t even hover. Oh, come on it''s been over 300 years since I died in the human realm. Where are my hovercars?!


    "Should we do something? Sorry, I know you like humans. " Amar blinks sleepily as the lock us up.


    From under the little mummy''s wraps and clothes, a little noodle, a tiny snake, pops its head out to slither away like a tiny messenger. Well at least we''re somewhat good on that point. It would be rude to keep Georgie and Abbey worrying.


    "I don''t like all humans, you empty head. But do you think they have any candy? I can''t smell any." I sniff around, trying to identify anything good.


    "I don''t smell anything sweet either? Ah so boring." Amar yawns.


    I agree. What sort of trick or treat is this without and treats?!


    "Let''s wait a little bit, maybe they have more human friends and stuff. " I feel like ears twitching beneath my hood. Back up. A base camp. More toys and supplies to play with!


    "Okay dokey." the little mummy agrees, nodding his head in understanding.


    After all humans have plenty of fun toys at the very least. Something about this magical Halloween town world makes time run oddly, and everything seems to be centuries back in the past.


    Being as small as I am, I don''t have many official minions. Of the two that I do have, Amar may the slightly brighter of them. That''s not saying much when the other one is.....oh no.


    Ice slowly forms their trails, following in on the vehicle, causing to rumble and slide. In the dark against the brightness of the moon, a tiny tubby silhouette howls in imitation. The vague shape of a mochi, with barely the hint of the pointy long ears, just hidden in the shadows.


    "Listen up evildoers! You took my sidekicks and I can''t let you! In the name of Halloween and my awesome and the moon, I will...PUNISH YOU!!!" it shouts, jumping down in an icy slide of crashing destruction.


    "Lukas no! To the side, go around!" I scream, fearing for my life like a bowling pin fears the ball.


    "Get down, Rosa."


    The little mummy pushes me down the cage, tying us steady with his linen wraps. The more he uses, the more of the bare skin on his dark wrists and soft face gets revealed from under there. The cloth on his arms running thin as they seatbelt and cushion us against the unstoppable undying force that is Lukas.


    "Whooopppeee!!!" goes a patchwork Frankenstein blue mochi, sliding headfirst like a car crash. His wide grey eyes as bright as any headlights.


    Which he absolutely is, a battering ram of a car crash. No lie. It''s just how Lukas was made.


    Full darkness. Multiple screams. A flash freeze and more than a few freshly bled humans scenting the air.


    Motion sickness has me dizzy, so much so I feel like I''m floating in the air. Even in this mummy wrapped cage. It''s actually pretty comfy in here now if only we weren''t spinning so much. Are we still spinning? Or just swinging? Bleh, don''t mind me, just need to catch my breath after all that screaming.


    "What are you children getting up into now?" asks a stern and tired voice, yet it sounds like all the angels that don''t exist down in our forsaken lands.


    Hail Gable, the smartest, most beautiful, and jawbreakingly attractive elf ever, he can do no wrong. But couldn''t Gable have inputted his Franken monster nephew with a better brain?!


    Blessed be Gable for making Lukas so all-purpose resistant after reanimating him. This slightly larger minion of mine only brought from life to unlife in something just over a century and a half ago. Sewn up from dismembered kiddy elf parts, mostly frozen, and magically zapped back to icy life.


    "I saved my sidekicks from getting kiddy sacked!" Lukas proclaims, smiling brightly. .


    "I believe the term you''re looking for is kidnapped. Lukas. Where is the rest of you?" Gable sighs, looking splendid even through the parental stress.


    The problem is that it''s just Lukas''s head he''s talking to. No really. His head flew off the rest of him from his own crash, right where the staples and thread keeping him together torn up. In fact, Amar and I watch the show that is the headless Lukas, on all fours, chasing down any screaming escaping humans.


    Ah yes, as a regular human I too might be traumatized from that. How amusing, if we probably weren''t in some levels of trouble.


    All I wanted was to talk to some decent humans. It''s been so long! Get a bit of news of the state of world. Maybe mooch a few snacks. Is that too much to ask!?


    Apparently so.


    Life is tough for a strange outsider like me. I don''t even know what I am or how I got here. Just one day, I knew I died. And before I could process anything, I was born again as a little baby. Or puppy? Or whatever vampire babies are called?


    See! I have no idea what I am. Just that I''m a monster now, and I have been for the past 360 years!


    "363? You''re 366 years old." Amar counts on his little fingers.


    "What did I say about reading my thoughts." I smack the possibly brainless child.


    Sheesh, one of my minions is a Frankenstein monster so stupid he doesn''t realize he''s an immortal elf that just needs to stay still and heal all his wounds. The other one is this slow little kid, but it can''t be helped with some species of undead. I''m not sure either of them got to keep their brains at times.


    I know Gable has to hold to Lukas''s parts for safe keeping sometimes. Maybe''s Amar''s brain is somewhere in a jar, or wherever they keep mummy parts? I''m not sure, it''s been a long time since I learned this stuff as a human.


    "I didn''t? I can''t. That''s a vampire thing isn''t it?" Amar yawns back, getting increasingly grumpier, maybe after using so much of his wraps.


    "Reading minds? Yeah, but you know what I mean. Grrr I hate it when father uses it on me all the time! Or Alfonso. It''s not fair. I can''t use it on any creature too much stronger than me!" I huff, remembering the sheer struggle it is to be a powerful monster, and not know how to do anything.


    Why is it so damn hard to control these innate things? I can''t even retract my own baby fangs by will yet. Thus I have this sort of permanent snaggle tooth. Quite annoying, even on a face as cute as mine.


    "Sorry, your humans went kaboom." Amar points not only to all the wreckage but the small fry bloodthirsty ghouls and creatures coming out to feast.


    Somewhere Gable, and his glorious golden hair flies off to catch the other half of Lukas. I wave off all the disappointment in me. From many things and sources. Being so small. Being so useless. Not being human myself anymore. Never seeing anyone again.


    That person....would be long gone. It''s been 363 years, huh?


    "It''s fine. I''m just sad about snacks. Humans have the best sweets and candies. You should taste chocolate." I pat at the confused and half bandaged kid, as if smacking the strange sadness in me away.


    Yeah. I miss chocolate and stuff.


    "I''m here to rescue you all! You''re welcome!" Lukas smiles and waves, attached back again. Looking very heroic on a toddler leash in Gable''s hold.


    "Stupid." I fight the strange supernatural urge to bite at him. Ruined my plots to get their base and steal all the human candy.


    What? Life priorities shift around, especially when you get to be as old as I am. In monster years I''m nothing but a little baby infant. Pay me in snacks and money!


    "Gable? What''s chocolate? Rosa says she followed the humans for that? Is it very yummy?" Amar raises his little hand as the cage opens up, Gable''s magic wand floating us out.


    "It''s super yummy, and hey don''t put it all on me! You got grabbed too, Amar. " I pout, trying to put on my best side for Gable.


    A human male could never. Oh, such beauty, such brightness, even at night. I could swoon if I wasn''t floating by the poof of my cloak and pumpkin shorts.


    "Really now, Rosalia?" he raised one of those perfect eyebrows, steel grey eyes of judgement.


    Oh my little heart, even a tired glare is too much beauty for me. Who oh who made elves in the first place and made them so beautiful? Gable of course, stands above them all. Case in point, the icy quilt work mochi.


    "What''s a chocolate? Is it like bacon?!" Lukas gasps, starry eyes at the human corpse remains. As if they could produce chocolate or bacon.


    "I mean, it''s a sweet but you could dip bacon in chocolate." I think back.


    "That''s enough from all of you. Rosalia, you in particular shall have a long harsh talk with your family tonight, about following strangers, humans of all things, for food. " Gable sighs at me.


    It wasn''t my fault. Really. And it''s not like I followed them, they just showed up and then grabbed me! Oh this unfairness.


    Perhaps at my tearful sniffles, for this little body is really so sensative, like a real child. But Gable seems to give, sighing even harder in the beautiful way of his.


    "Fine. Fine, Ron''s hiding some of those blasted human substances the back pantry. I''m sure there''s plenty of his candies and ''chocolate'' still there. Let''s just get you all back, and oh god there''s everyone to call. Oh gods of death and beyond, they''re too much alike. "


    I am too shocked at the news my own blasted grampa was hiding chocolate from me this entire time to take in much more. All these centuries?!!?


    Grampa how could you! Watch out you shitty old man, watch as I munch it all!


    For the first time, as Rosalia the little red riding hood, I got to have a real trick or treat. Along with all my little friends- I mean minions!!!


    It was very sweet.


    -------------


    Halloweentown AU mini stories


    --------------


    ----


    1


    Help! I have awoken in a coffin!


    That''s not even the worst part!? I''m in a coffin with an undead hottie!!! What is with this alabaster carved devil?! This ruby wine hair and divine features. This, this evil! It''s giving me an aneurysm! He''s also huge, like a super giant! As if I''m a little tiny baby doll in his stupid cuddling hold and...oh.


    Oh yeah.


    I''m dead. Or well undead. I''ve been undead for quite a long time now and that, right there, in my nerd of a father. Yes, my father. Oh the fearful shame.


    Please do not be fooled by his pretty face, sharp clothes, sharp fangs. or the sharp handsome slopes of his arms and shoulders. This is a true pureblood NERD.


    "Up already Chippy? It''s hardly sundown." golden eyes starts to open, and who needs the sun with eyes like that.


    I mean, what cruel and disgusting tactics. For a vampire to use their hypnotizing looks against their own blood daughter. Which I unfortunately am.


    "You don''t seem very awake, " he chuckles, and I completely understand how hoards to females across all species would offer their hearts and souls.


    I don''t approve, but I understand. Vampires. Sheesh.


    "Father, the body farms. It''s harvest season and we need to start early." I whine, sounding too much like a small animal when he rubs behind the strange shape my ears decided to take today.


    Fluffy like a bat, rather than the strong pointed wolf ears as my honorable mother werewolf or grandfather the great big bad wolf. It''s a terrible cheap shot when father scratches them lazily, forcing an uncontrollable purr from somewhere inside my chest.


    Oh the shame. Curse this strange body!


    Ahh but that spot is so nice, ahh my head. Pat it more or else I bite your hand if you dare stop.


    "That''s my girl. The farms will still be there, as they always are year after year." he pets those long pretty piano fingers through the admittedly bright red curls that my hair has decided to take on. Impossible to deny that gene apparently.


    "The farms~" I complain without sounding like it, for it is impossible when my lungs are too busy purring and making tiny almost meowing sounds.


    "What trickery. To use your innate fat, furs and cuteness in order to lure others into caring for you. It can''t be helped. Not with your mother, but I suppose I''m partly to blame for indulging you all as such." father cruelly teases, rubbing perfectly along the back of my spine to the fluffy tail I can''t retract.


    Pet pet pet pet pet. Stop and I bite and claw your eyes out, I swear it. I don''t care if you can squish me to death with a finger oh great lord vampire. Some other stupid gene in me has been activated and it demands pet pets.


    The devil smiles against the plush as darkness truly falls, petting me softly, somehow lulling me back to sleep. Not that hard given that I''m the monster equivalent of a toddler.


    A much greater monster places sharp fangs and soft lips upon the top of my head, making me wiggle against any sense.


    "Sleep little one. Papa''s here, papa''s not going anywhere."


    Well duh, we''re dead. Where we gonna go?


    "Back home, to your mama. So she can truly kill us." he maybe reads my mind, tucking me further into the comforts of the coffin.


    For a split moment I shiver, perhaps in instinctive fear, but ultimately the stupid puppy part of my brain gives into the soft pets and cuddles. This strangely familiar scent registering as comforting and even parental.


    How disgusting. This trickery. God damn vampires. But oh well, it just can''t be helped.


    ---------------------------


    ---------


    2


    Today I have errands to run! All by myself!


    "Oh and this one, and that one, oh and your ribbons kyaaa so cute, so red, and don''t forget the-" a fluffy and gorgeous woman fusses across the floor all around me. Natural shining curls, diamonds dripping down a collar of her smooth neckline into a plunging dress that would be indecent if not for her luxurious fur coats.


    "Mother! I have everything already, I''m fine!" I complain, feeling my ears twitch under my hood.


    Today I get to walk to my beloved Gable''s house in the woods! Yaaaaaaay~


    It''s also kinda sorta my grampa wolf''s house too, and my errands are to deliver the goods in my little basket to him, but who cares. I get to go see Gable!


    Oh such light, such beauty. To think a gorgeous elf like that can bear living isolated, with a crazy brute like grampa as his roommate. Sure they''re best of friends and have known each other for millenniums, but still?


    "Oh alright then, my ''big'' girl." mother pouts and says in a very embarrassing tone of voice. She ties up my red hood, laces up my shoes and checks over my basket one last time. Just like a real mother.


    Which I suppose she is. It''s not her fault she gave birth to weirdo like me. Too bad so sad.


    "And don''t forget to take good care of your sister." she instructs me carefully.


    "yes yes- wait WHAT?! Lily''s coming too?! No way!" I feel my knees weaken.


    "Rosalia. That''s no way to speak to your twin sister. " mother tuts a perfectly manicured claw at me.


    "But she''s feral!" I stomp my feet childishly.


    "Rosalia Therese Ventrella." mother sounds absolutely serious.


    "I''m not being mean I''m being right. Just look at her!" I point to the thing chewing up one of the parlor couch cushions.


    A super fluffy thing. Soft, sweet, almost cherub looking is a super fluffy little dress and coat. Like that she resembles the most innocent of sheep. But I as her twin sister, who lives, sleeps and eats with her day in and day out knows the real truth.


    "Yip yip! Bark! Rosa! yip!" Lilyanne pounces, falling off the couch in a great show of pathetic and cute. Puppy dog tail wagging the whole time.


    That. That is my sister. Lilyanne Mariana Ventrella. Her beautiful corkscrew curls are growing in like some vintage doll, a famous old actress or manga princess whatever. Shining eyes always a little teary, as if someone had dropped poisonous belladonna in them to make them so wide and sparkling if she didn''t have them stupidly closed so often. Her little nose a tad red from bumping, but otherwise as pristine and perfect as an expensive doll.


    An absolutely adorable little girl, the living toddler equivalent of a wolf in sheep''s clothing. But even wolves must once be useless puppies. And that, is my sister at her current age.


    "Oh Rosalia, you know we love you very much and how well you grow. But you''re the older sister and you mustn''t rub your smarts so much my little love. You are after all, just as much a puppy. " mother cuddles and snuggles us in one of her gruesome hugs. Scent marking us once again as if our entire lives so far wasn''t enough.


    "Yip yip! Wuv mama!" Lily rubs back, looking absolutely loveable instead of the feral destructive pup I know her to be.


    Have you ever seen an untrained puppy dog, too young to learn a simple trick? Yeah, that. Except way more feral!


    "But how can I walk to Ga- er grampa''s house all by myself with Lilyanne in tow...you''re gonna have Alfonso follow us in bat form again aren''t you?" I pout at mother, feeling my own uncontrollable snagglefang dig a bit.


    "Oh ho ho ho. Oh. No. Of course not my darling~" mother laughs in her own strange and special way.


    Protest as I might, there is no way a little soft thing like me can truely fight against mother in anything. It is not that her sharp teeth and sharp claws intimidate me, or the supernatural strength hiding beneath all the finery of her gowns, not even the weird animal girl ears and tail. It''s simply because she is mother, and that alone is terrifying enough. Moms are scary.


    "....fine. I''ll take Lilyanne on a walk. " I mumble.


    It is not quite enough, for Lilyanne''s sharp ears start twitching, nowhere near as red but just as fluffy as my own. Her tail wagging at a painfully whipping pace.


    "Walk?! Yaaaaaaay! Yip yip yip! Walkie wit Rosa! Arwhooooooooooooo!!!!" the puppy starts howling at nothing but her own excitement.


    "No Lily sweet, down my sweet girl. No howling in public. Behave and learn after your big sister, otherwise she won''t take you on future walks." mother carefully pinches her at the back of the neck, presenting her motherly canines in a warning.


    "Yip yip mama!" Lily nods, rubbing her neck and head to nuzzle and scent mother further.


    Ugh. And so, we stand still to let mother fuss and fumble once again, more ribbons more checking. Yeah yeah yeah, good bye now mother.


    Mother and her puppy of a favorite daughter have an awful parting as if they were going to be separated for years instead of maybe an afternoon and part of the evening. Sheesh, these wolf genes.


    I think we had more than enough love bites and scent marks for life let alone the span of the morning. There''s no way any undead citizen won''t know we''re the twins of the Ventrellas. But alas mother must make it very very very clear.


    Tugging Lily and her leash along, I wave mother off before she can cry and nuzzle me once more. Or worse. Lick and groom me.


    Being a monster is weird.


    ----------


    -----


    3.


    "Oi shitty grampa, open the door. I''m here! Alone this time." I knock for the thousandth or whatever time.


    Today is a faster trip since Lilyanne is sick, thus cannot make her walk. When did I get walking duty? Sheesh we should never get a pet.


    Hello, you may me little red. I suppose enough people do. It may be because I often wear this little red hood.


    It is not because of my hair. Not!


    Like little red riding hood I am delivery goodies to my grandma''s house. Except I don''t have a grandmother, unless you count this really old and dried up scary vampire lady who I don''t ever really see. And thus I can''t reasonably deliver anything to get into her old rich very very very rich mansion....


    Ahem that will be a plot for another day.


    "Grampa!? " I shout from the door of the invisible cabin, absolutely sure I got it right. Grampa and Gable tend to leave it visible from any illusions on my visits.


    How nice of them to occasionally leave it unlocked as well.


    When I open up the door, I immediately can tell something is off. For one it is far too quiet. No signs of grampa''s or even Lukas''s yelling. No Gable chasing after them in some form of threat, violence, or silent punishment. No magic bubbling and boiling. No crazy experiments or inventions going off.


    I toddle my short little legs straight to grampa''s bedroom, instinct and scent leading the way.


    "Grampa?" I call out, smelling something odd. Like a perfumed sachet, incense to cover something else up, a trace of magic.


    "Pumpkin! What a wonderful surprise, did you miss grampapa so much!" the crazy old man calls out weakly from bed, his admittedly cute wolf ears twitching from underneath.


    Which is stupid because the big bad wolf looks like the human equivalent of a military fit man in his 40s at most, and way stronger.


    "Mother sent me. But you weren''t at the door. Are you being lazy or did you catch something?" I bark a bit. Hmm maybe that''s why mother had me deliver some of this stuff?


    If even Lilyanne, a halfling pure blood vampire and a great big bad wolf, can fall ill. Why not grampa? He''s not ....that...old....but I guess anything can happen.


    "A bit of something," he groans buried under the covers.


    "Grampa, you look really hot. Like sweaty and stuff. " I make my way closer, the strange scent truly bothering me.


    "I suppose that''s just what happens sometimes, Rosa my girl. One day you too shall understand, ah but in a very very very long time from now" he coughs roughly.


    "Don''t bundle up so much, you''re going to overheat stupid dog of a grampa," I make to tug.


    "Ahahaha oh no Rosa, pumpkin, poopy-doo, grampapa is feeling chills and definitely needs to sleep it off nice and warm! Tell your mama I''ll be fine and joining her next dinner party!"


    Strange, too strange.


    "Oh look, Gable with his hair down!" I fake point and shout in another direction.


    "What?! Where?! Gabe you said-" hook line and sinker


    "Aha!" I dramatically pull at the sheets. Only to be very very very....regretful.


    "Grampa....are you...wearing....a lady''s nightgown?"


    "Ahhheeeem! Nightwear has no gender! " he coughs some more.


    ".....Grampa....what big....laces you have. " I pick and pull at the intricate frills on the gown.


    "All the better to feel pretty in. You tend to feel awful when you get my old age, " he coughs even more disgustingly.


    "What big.....man ...boobies you have. " I grimace, somehow unable to tear my eyes away from where the nightgown compliments best. Grampa''s well-defined abs and pectoral muscles have never been a secret, but somehow it''s made all the more....eye-catching and obvious is such an outfit.


    "All the better...with training! If you train well, you too can have them! Start with 100 pushups s a day then-" he explains, grinning stupidly as if giving a lecture.


    "No thank you grampa. " I slap my mochi cheeks, feeling pain in order to cope with this.


    I feel like there''s a lot of ways this can go. I feel like of I really press, keep asking and being the annoying kid that I am, I''ll find the key to this puzzle. But that some source of my common sense says I''ll really regret finding out just the same.


    A pandora''s box, to open or not to open?


    "Yeah ok get better and don''t be stupid. My basket will be on the kitchen table. Can I get you anything before I go home?" I pinch my nose, unwilling to smell any more of this strange perfume.


    "Your love and concern are more than I could ever-" he starts dramatically tearing up, more big brown cow eyes than much werewolf.


    "Okay bye shitty grampa." I tuck him back in, silky maybe sultry woman''s nightgown and all.


    I guess he likes the feeling of it? Yeah, sure. Let the old kooky wolf have some luxuries in life.


    Like a decent person, not like his concerned grandkid or anything, I fill up some water and place fever-reducing tablets by his bedside. Then totter around the kitchen, checking for anything stupid like grampa leaving the stove on again or something. I deduce that Gable must be on some errand or trip, given his lack of presence. Not even a trace of his magic.


    Thus I do my best to rummage and cook something easy to reheat. After all grampa is a disaster in the kitchen. And now he''s sick? How stupid of him!


    I however am also a certain type of fool, because before I know it the simple little things I meant to cook to tide grampa over has turned into too much. A pot of gentle rice gruel. A savory steamed murder egg and singing mushroom pudding. Stirfry heart wilding mustard and neat bacon cabbage. Even more side dishes.


    Well...at least it''s much better than anything grampa can do himself. Especially if Lukas comes back before Gable. The strange little monster taking up a room, and the adoption, way too well since day one.


    For some odd reason though, I don''t think it was ever said out that Lukas is Gable''s nephew. Funny.


    But everyone has their strange sad stories. Like how Lukas died in the first place. Not my place to pry.


    Besides what should I care over a mere mob minion. Pfffft.


    I set the tray and pour both tea and juice. Then balance it slowly back to grampa''s room.


    The crazy old wolf is of course, very much awake. And grossly in tears.


    "I made you food because I love Gable and I don''t want him to come back to a burnt kitchen or you dead and rotting. " I bite and bark, trying to gently set it down next to grampa''s bedside. I''m far from being tall enough to set it down on his lap.


    "....Thank you Rosalia. Grampa feels the love so much, but please don''t feel pressured anymore! I don''t want to keep you any longer," he sobs into his claws, being way too touched by this to the point of getting so overwhelmed.


    "Eat everything to get better. I''m doing the dishes you shitty old mongrel.....do you need laundry done? Is that why you''re wearing that nightgown? Did you steal it from mother? Wait no, did mother ever own anything like that...."


    "Grampa loves you so much but please go home Rosa, please. " he cries.


    Aw great, now I feel awful.


    Fine. Off to do the dishes and maybe find some other decent stuff for grampa to change into. Ugh the things I do for this crazy family.


    "GAAAAAABBBBLE!!!! CAAAAAAPPPPP! I''M BACK! That quest you sent me on didn''t take long at all! I did super good! Praise me! And I smell bacon! Oh oh oh did you know I was gonna be so awesome and come back early and make me bacon! Oh hi Rosa!" a cute little Frankenstein monster comes bouncing through the door with all the cold and vigor of a snow storm.


    Maybe because he does bring a snow storm.


    I hear something vaguely like rumblings, crashing porcelain, and even dare I say it, the dirty oh so wonderfully alluring cussing mouth of Gable''s voice!


    Probably all my imagination though, Gable''s not even here. I didn''t smell him, though it''s hard to smell with that strange perfume in the air.


    "Did you know grampa is sick? When did you leave?" I ask the super-strength boy currently crushing my windpipe in what he calls a hug.


    Meh, you get kinda used to things after a few decades. Thank goodness for my own genetic disposition otherwise affection from this cute little blue super would kill me. Oh hell, my own mother and her hugs would leave me dead. They already have!


    "Like. This morning! We had lots and lots of yummy meats for breakfast and I guess veggies and figs and-" he would keep blabbering, hopefully not in any ways to cause more ripped stitched.


    The supernatural flesh and blood of a frozen dead elf slowly but surely healing itself. If only Lukas would stay still long enough to let it. Which was why his blue-tinged flesh, though soft and mochi like, was covered in various stitch lines in different stages of healing.


    "No way, grampa is way too sick." I deadpan


    "Cap is sick? No way....CAP I''M COMING TO SAVE YOU!!!" Lukas lifts me up high like a weight, carrying me off straight to grampa.


    In the bedroom, grampa has of course not even touched his food. Somehow too weak to do so, he looks alarmingly pale and beside himself. Even before Lukas wetly tornadoes in, crashing us both on the bed with grampa.


    "You''re both just...too cute and loveable." grampa somehow sighs and cries at the same time, looking oddly melancholy even in a lacy silk night gown.


    It''s really messed how much it suits him! Is this another side of grampa? Hmmm well, it is a nice material.


    Alright, next time I''m forced to do gifts, grampa can have all the luxury silky ladies robes and gowns. I really am a genius.


    Now open up and eat grampa, or you''re never gonna get better!


    Oh how wonderful! Gable''s back! And just in time!


    Huh, is Gable also sick? He''s looking very down and unwell for a gorgeous beyond belief elf. Oh dear, these oldies. Just can''t be helped.


    -------------------------


    ------


    Pt 4?


    To be continued.

 139 Too much naked

    Imagine this, one moment you''re settled in and comfortable enough to fall asleep. Yes just a nice scheduled nap at home, in your bed, on the couch, whatever is a nice nap spot. It''s not just a children thing, even adults need naps sometimes, though admittedly kids my age really require it. It''s just biology. Now you drift off to sweet sleepy rejuvenating dreamland.


    Then wake up entirely elsewhere!


    Your parents or guardians seeing it fit to bring you elsewhere. The store. Some errands. A party at another house. Any and all of that.


    You as the child, momentarily dead to the world, have no choice or indication of such. You just wake up wide eyes and confused, with various degrees of crying depending on the situation.


    I am currently crying. Very hard. Screaming really.


    "AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH my eyes!!!" I blubber and drown, flopping my arms uselessly in the murky water.


    "Awww there there pumpkin poo, don''t cry Rosa. Grampapa is here!"


    Tanned muscles, hardened and trained under years of sunlight appear before me, rolling and dripping in the same steaming bath water. Nothing but muscles, abs, and pure masculine beef and holyc ow AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!


    "nAKED GRAMPA!!!" I cry, sobbing wetly as I flop.


    "Yes! Very good observation my little sprout, for how else do you take a bath!"


    "Naked people everywhere!!?!"


    I feel like passing out again in grampa''s hold, the only thing from keeping down plunging straight down this hot tub.


    "Rosa no swimmy? Lily teach!" my sister splashes excitedly.


    She doggy paddles over from the other side of the tub. Clumsy, but keeping afloat all by herself. Her chubby little arms keeping up with the splish splash of her wet kicking.


    How adorable. How remarkable. If only she wasn''t butt naked.


    "wait ....Am I naked?!?" I screech, looking down myself.


    Oh absolutely. If not for the bear paws that are my grampa''s hands I''d be exposed all to the world. Or well this bath. This very public, plebian and MEN''S bath.


    "Your big sister can swim very well duckadoo, I''ve seen it. Now three more laps! Don''t skimp on the dives!" grampa smiles stupidly encouraging Lilyanne to keep paddling.


    Oh I feel faint. The holy maiden, the forbidden flower of all, daughter of the house Ventrella, naked and learning how to swim in a public bath. Oh, however shall we live with the shame?!


    "Oh what adorable little berries, bright pink, full and fat. Ah, you''re raising them well youngin," a wrinkly old geezer, a real one- shriveled like a prune under his white beard, turns from another tub to toast his drink at my grampa.


    "Ahahaha I remember when I first took my grandson to the baths, ahaha vomited all over the place and banned till he turned at least 6. Then got banned again! Ahaha!" laughs another white prune, getting a massage.


    The surrounding bathers give a laugh and chuckle, especially the much much much older men. Most likely relating to their own experiences with kids and grandkids.


    Men.


    Naked grandfathers everywhere. They far outnumber any young or attractive men, I don''t even have the chance to get embarrassed about that. I''m going to be sick. They''re going to have to ban me from the public baths because I''m going to be sick!!!!


    "Awww don''t cry Rosie girl, I know! It''s getting too hot! Off we go my Lily, to the cold pools! We must dunk your sister to cure and wake her!" grampa pats my naked back, holding me far too close to his naked chest.


    "Yaaaaay~ Okay grampapa!!!" Lilyanne splashes her way over.


    She has great difficulty in hopping over the edge for the hot tub, but manages only by rolling her shiny naked butt, over like a beached whale. A fat slab of baby mozzarella cheese in the making. In a show that she did it, she raised her arms and cheers as if she won an award. All for grampa to pick her up too.


    Did I mention naked? Too much naked?!!


    No no no grampa don''t get up, don''t! AaaaHHHHHHHH!!!!


    "Never fear, we''ll get you to the cold pools in a jiffy!" grampa squishes me.


    The man that is my biological grandfather holds no shame. None. He simply picks us both up and walks out of the steaming tub just like that. No towels or robes, just like everyone else. Just like every other naked bather here across these slippery floors and hot spring tubs galore.


    I must suffocate myself into grampa''s well endowed pectoral muscles in order not to see anything as he walks. Scoot over Lilyanne, my eyes are burning here!


    "Huh! Bad Rosa! Rosa has lots time, now Lily too!" she pouts and fights me for the valley of grampa''s chest.


    This is a situation I never thought I would be in. Oh, and did I mention the butt naked part enough yet? I feel like I haven''t.


    If I look up instead, maybe by getting my sister''s chubby palm to my face as she claims the prime real estate that is grampa''s chest, then I would see quite an ornately carved ceiling. Stone and marble work up high, housing a magnificently large public bath such as this.


    It''s huge, a real community center. After all not everyone can even dream to afford the private resorts and springs that only the wealthy can book out. There are various levels of businesses and baths. The public baths being the most famous of them all. Pay a small fee to get in. Pay another for a closet storage of your clothes and items. Enjoy and get clean.


    Add ons like wine, massages, or other treatments available at your charge.


    It is of course something that I knew well of but never stepped into in my entire life. Not as Rosalia? How could I?! With my identity? I''m not a mere noble that could fly under the radar as such.


    On earth though, I could definitely appreciate a place like this. Hell, I would definitely shell out some bucks to travel and soak it all in. So interesting and pampering.


    Everyone equally naked, minding their own business, and not caring at all. After all, it is just a public bath to them. Water rushes out in set fountains and pools, with sturdy Romanesque carvings that the occasional naughty child climbs and plays on before their parents drag them down. Different spots for different services, ranging from saunas to spas. Hot tubs, massages, even herbal clay body masks.


    There''s even a great big cold pool to cool down...*SPLASH*


    "AAAAAAAAHHHH COLD!!! SHITTY GRAMPA!!! How dare you throw me!!!" I splutter in the water, a human cannonball that somehow ended up on the other side of this pool.


    It''s larger than 3 Olympic sized facilities put together! What if I had landed on someone? Or something?! And cracked my head and died!?


    "Ohhhh that''s the spirit! Yes, swim like you''re a great predator hunting down your prey! Yes that hunger, the fire!" the little dot in the distance that is my grampa waves. So far away I can''t even see anything shameful even though I know he''s fully bare.


    "Put some clothes on you shitty old man!!!" I swim blindly, both in cold shock and the fact that I really must keep my eyes closed.


    Too much naked everywhere, even if it''s normal here. Ah, excuse me. Pardon me. Don''t mind me. I am young and innocent, too young. I see nothing! Nothing!!!


    "Oooooooh" I can hear Lilyanne ooh and ahh


    Perhaps at the falling water fountains. Perhaps at my firey swimming speed to not only get out this water but to go kick gramps right where it hurts.


    "That''s it, Rosa! Show all those weaklings how it''s done!"


    The foolish crazy grampa is so loud I can locate him from sound alone. Pushing off and kicking with all my strength, I reach the edge and aim using my entire force of weight.


    Ouch.


    "Oooof! A worthy effort my young little sprout." grampa bends down to rub at my sore and dizzy head. Oh god, what the hell does he eat to maintain muscles that hard?


    "Oh dearie, need a bit of salt for that handsome?" laughs some old women sitting in another pool nearby. When I dare peek my eyes open, they are in fact, female prunes.


    Female?


    MIXED BATHING?!! OH Lord, there''s a mixed bathing section in this place?!!! The scandal!!! The crime! What horrors!


    Oh, my delicate lady''s constitution. I feel faint again.


    "Why thank you!" grampa laughs, taking an offering woman''s jar of bath salts. Either stupidly not noticing or absolutely not minding the cougars'' leering.


    Grampa no! Your shame! Your honor! Your chastity! I know you don''t think you have any but nooooooo! Back away you saggy beasts! That''s someone''s grandfather! Don''t you dare lick your lips at that, noooooo!


    "Aww does it hurt that much Rosa girl? There there." the defenseless brute continues rubbing wet salt onto the bump on my head.


    "Get clothes or get into the darn water grampa!" I squint, trying my best not to look anywhere. Also ow ow ow my head, ow.


    "Lily-poo! How are you doing there! Remember left right left and right! And breathe!" he stupidly ignores my warnings to wave to Lilyanne, practicing more than just doggy paddles under a fake waterfall.


    Oh my, impressive dolphin dive for a mochi toddler.


    "What cute children! Of course with a father like yourself," one of the scary cougars tries flirting.


    "They''re my grandbabies! Awwwww but they look so much like my baby girl when she was small, too bad they''re not as tough. Oh well. At least they''re cute! Ahahah!" grampa laughs stupidly, rubbing the back of his pink neck at the compliment.


    No no no you stupid hunk of beef, that''s not where you should be embarrassed about! Cover up, down!


    Oh my god, I have to do everything around here. I complain to myself as I tug grampa from getting up any further of revealing himself.


    Back you foul hungry beasts! Old ladies, you must have all lived a long and fruitful life to develop into wonderful pickles. Now back away from my cow of a grampa, he''s too young for you all!


    "Ohhhh has anyone ever told you how much you resemble the great hero?! Look old dear, doesn''t he?" another wrinkly old woman from nearby hot pool giggles, elbowing her husband.


    "Meh, you''d think that of any youngish fit man you blind wife oh mine. " the equally old geezer leans back in the water, snorting.


    "Oh oh oh I see it, it''s in the strong chin. Yes, you do look like a fine statue of him." one of the cougar pack giggles.


    "With twin grandchildren too..." another bather of the cold pools getting a little too warm


    "Ahahaha! As if the great hero would take his noble little granddaughters out to a place like this?! The hidden pearls of the land!" someone else laughs out, causing everyone to burst out in collective laughter.


    The plebians taking in the low-brow slapstick humor. Ah yes so funny. If the great hero would ever dare do such a thing. Like right now. In front of them all.


    I feel so exposed right now, and for once I''m not talking about the naked part.


    "Grampapa lookie at what Lily can do!" one of the said treasured pearls spits water from her mouth, imitating one of the fountains along with some other children that happen to be splashing around.


    Oh my head. Oh ow.


    "Thatta girl, just don''t drink it! Lily-poo? Oh boy, in we go." grampa sets me aside one of the kinda wet lounge seats to go ''rescue'' his granddaughter.


    Who by the way is certainly not learning bad habits at all, oh no. I facepalm, curling into a naked ball, and take a big breath.


    This is fine. Right now no one knows who I am. This isn''t embarrassing at all. Besides, I''ve been to various hot springs and public baths before.....as someone else in another world...this is good and fine. Really now, a great experience for Lilyanne. She can be a little less sheltered and dumb to the world.


    Calming down, I brave up another peek at my surroundings. Yes, what a good clean bath....filled with naked old people.


    Waaaaaah I don''t want this!


    I want to go home. But how can I leave grampa''s side? I''m butt naked here! No clothes, no purse.


    A cute little girl like me could be so easily grabbed and sold off! Poof! Gone with no trace. Anyone could? And yet no one here fears such a thing or for their own naked safety at all. It''s not a concern!


    Ah, this world, and these times, standards are really something else.


    This place really is huge.


    Little kids run around playing across the pools of water, much to the occasional shout from a parent or grandparent. It''s mainly men and old people, but dozens of people linger across the open space. All very naked.


    I am three and innocent. I am three and innocent. Absolutely innocent!


    I do not know how long I sit there, but when I calm down enough swallow down my sense of shame I don''t see a hint of grampa of Lilyanne. It could be because I''m mostly squinting to avoid looking at anyone, ahem, anywhere. But as I turn my head back and forth I don''t see the distinctive shape of my grandfather''s muscular frame, nor can I hear the laughs of cries of my baby sister.


    No way. I stay good in one place and grampa''s already lost me? Here!?! Here and naked in a public bath of all places?!


    Ahhhhh! I''ve been abandoned due to negligence! Ahhhh! Where''s the lost children center?!!


    Eeep! I looked up.


    No looking up. My pathetically short height looks up at all the wrong places! Why must everyone be so naked?


    In my pathetic search, I scamper and somewhat slip and slide. This place really is too big. Where could grampa go in such a short amount of time? How could he leave me here like this?


    Somehow I slip and slide myself to a whole new area, feeling all the more lost.


    The thing is though I can open my eyes properly again. Everyone is still very much mostly naked yes, hardly covered anything more than a few wash cloths. But it''s suddenly all fine.


    It''s all women around here?


    Ahhh. I woke up and started on the men''s side. Then grampa took me to a mixed area. This must be closer to the women''s only quarters! Oh my, how lovely and relaxing. Just my area. Lots of younger and more pretty women lounging around, bathing, beautifying, and chatting. So much nicer on all the senses, especially the eyes.


    But there''s no way grampa would be here!


    I''m still so lost! Ah what to do, what to do?


    "Rosalia? Why are you always crying when I find you?"


    "Haha! Crybaby Rosa!"


    Two childish overly familiar voices stand out, for they really are not supposed to be here. Perhaps I am hallucinating from the heat? Just like all the lost kids who passed out from heat and panic.


    Slowly, I dare to turn my head over at where I''m hearing these auditory hallucinations.


    "Aaaaahhh!!!", I point and scream.


    The auditory hallucinations have turned into visual ones! Naked buns! Naked minions floating in a pool like hot pot mochi dumplings. Both number one and two!


    "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!" Lukas war cries back at me with a very pink steamed face. As if not only imitating my scream but proving himself superior.


    From the steaming hot pot, Amar looks back and forth between us. His little head of wet hair, darkened to the shade of hot chocolate, slightly drips with water as he turns his sight back and forth from Lukas to me.


    "Oh. Don''t cry? Did you two get fleas? There there there." Amar pats Lukas on the head, rubbing the close shave where fluffy fair hair used to be.


    "What are you two doing here?! And excuse you? Fleas? How rude, I would never." I fluster from pointing in accusation, wide open in view, to shamefully hopping into the hot pot pool myself.


    Why is everyone so naked?! Ahhhhh I am three and innocent. I am three and innocent. Repeat.


    "We''re swimming!" splashes Lukas, knocking his head to rub into Amar''s hand like a puppy dog demanding head pats.


    "In the women''s section?!" I sink myself at the underwater seat ledge, blowing bubbles as I fully cover myself up.


    "Uh huh. It smells nicer on this side." Amar answers straightforwardly, one of his little warm hands still going with the head pats and scratches.


    "But..." I look around.


    Not only admitting that fact is true, the women''s side is nicer smelling, but seeing plenty of kids here as well. After all small children would just accompany whichever guardian takes them, regardless of gender.


    I blow more bubbles, sinking from my head to my nose. Ahh forget it, shame just does not exist here. Especially not at this age.


    "There there, it''s okay." Amar floats over, his other hand now patting me on the head. Rubbing my very short fuzz of hair in a very similar manner to how he pets Lukas.


    If I didn''t know any better I think this brat is making fun of us. Wait, I do know better, and he is!


    "I didn''t get fleas either. It was all Lukas''s fault." I defend myself.


    "Yeah!" Lukas admits, no shame at all. "And then Rosa took a funny knife and bubbly stuff and went chop chop chop at my head when I was sick. It was super scary! I rolled around lots and lots to get away but I was all weak and stuff and she stepped on my tummy went chop chop chop!"


    "That''s good, no more fleas." Amar nods happily, petting us both on the head like good clean little baldies.


    Suddenly I am struck with the urge to chop off this brat''s full head of hair, straight and longer when wet. Just to match. If he implies I''m a flea-ridden mongrel one more, I most certainly will. Chop chop.


    I angrily swat Amar''s hand away, only to be head bumped by Lukas.


    Ow. Bad trade off.


    "We never got fleas, Amar! Stop being mean, fleas are so itchy! I don''t ever wanna again." Lukas rubs his fuzzball of a head against my own, as if in a strange sort of solidarity.


    "Uh huh. Okay." Amar nods, smiling in that big brother like way that says he doesn''t believe us at all. Grrrr.


    "How did you two even get in? I don''t even know where this is. I just woke up here already in a tub." I change topics, smacking the warm flower-infused water in frustration. Memories of my violent wake up call still too fresh.


    "I donna know, I followed Amar! He said there were lots of swimmies and there is! Oh and girls are weird. You''re all fat and jiggly and shaped like some monsters. Are you gonna grow stuff like that, Rosa?! Oh yeah like your mama! " Lukas takes a big breath, diving down into the water before I can hit him.


    "Don''t be so rude! You''re fat and jiggly! And you!" I yell at the escaping swimming mochi before turning over to Amar.


    "I got caught and was carried in. The wardrobe we came from was that way. There are lots of doors going in." Amar raises his hand in answer, a little sulky. Like a child forced to bathe when he''d rather be out playing.


    "If there are multiple entrances then he probably took me through the men''s entrance area since that''s where I woke up. Stupid grampa. I almost drowned in shock. " I look around, trying to locate the signs that indicate wardrobe and locker rooms.


    "Cap is swimming here too?!" Lukas pops up out of the water, like a wild shark spotting. A fat baby shark.


    "Sure was, I lost him and Lilyanne. Stupid grampa, swimming off with Lily like that and leaving me behind. Pffft not like anyone was gonna kidnap me, all defenseless and cute. " I complain, blowing more bubbles into the water.


    Amar pats my head again as Lukas fully screams, dunking his head underwater to muffle the sound as well as blow even more air bubbles.


    "No fair! No fair no fair no fair!" the distorted sound waves kinda sorta still travel through the popped bubbles.


    How amazing. Lukas is like a singing baby blue whale like that?


    "We''ll find him, don''t worry," Amar starts to say only to be interrupted by the wave that Luka makes.


    Soon my vision was not only splashed in the tsunami that is Lukas but blinded by the shining white of his running little butt.


    Did I mention the naked part yet?


    "Cap! I''m coming to save you from the stinky baby! Caaaaap?! Never fear Lukas is here!" that naked butt goes sliding out of here.


    "Lukas! Don''t run, you''re gonna fall again. " Amar yells out after him.


    But alas it is too late, and Lukas''s kiddy mochi butt is gone. Right through a doorway and hall that I thankfully can somewhat recognize passing through. How wonderful, I''m not as lost as I thought.


    "We can catch him? I think he''ll find your grampa really fast." Amar turns to me, pointing.


    "Grr, I guess I can''t wait around here forever for gramps. Not like he''s allowed into the women''s section anyways. " I grumble into the water, swallowing the shame of getting back out there.


    I assume little kids get a sort of free pass going back and forth throughout the place. For there are stationed guards along the walls and doorways. They''re only ones in actual uniform clothes, with massage and other bath workers in more of a standard loincloth and headcloth to differentiate them.


    "Up up now. Don''t slip? It''s super easy to. " Amar continues to treat me like a stupid crybaby.


    The only minion left pulls me up out of the pool by my armpits. My little legs dangling up in the air useless. It makes me sigh in tired frustration, fully giving up.


    "Fine. This is my life now. Follow whatever sounds like Lukas screaming." I order, finding my footing against the wet stone pool decks.


    "Uh huh, or where there''s ice. Lukas doesn''t know when he freezes stuff sometimes. " Amar pulls himself out, shaking himself of water like a dog.


    A dark feminine shadow looms over us threateningly.


    "Oh? And where do you think you''re running off to now? Hmmm, why do you always do this at bath time?" a stern voice speaks from it.


    "I''m not running. Rosa lost her grampa and I lost Lukas? I''m taking Rosa back to go find them." Amar pouts in defense, facing fully the very naked grown lady that created the shadow.


    Suddenly beside me, Cass stands with her dark silky hair entirely loose. A personal wash basket in her hands supported on her waist. A sort of sarong wrap somewhat covers her legs and bottom half, like many women wear their makeshift towels, but the rest of her is very much boobies-err I mean bare!


    Did I mention this naked thing enough times yet?


    "The Lord commander''s granddaughter? Again? I have the sense that trouble follows you three exactly." she offers me a slight bow and a small dry wash towel, to which I gratefully bundle myself in like a blanket.


    Huzaah! No more naked Rosalia!


    She then drops another small towel on Amar''s head, rubbing his hair a little roughly before rolling in over his shoulders.


    I am looking up and not down. I am respecting everyone''s privacy even though it literally does not matter. As evidenced by everyone here. I have looked too far up at Cass''s boobies- ahem!


    In the struggle of deciding nowhere is safe to look, I notice something odd.


    "Is that a...bite mark?" I point up at Amar''s back shoulder, right where it meets his thin neck. I see an irregular sort of mark, much like the pathetic jaws of a human, before Cass covers it up.


    "Yeah?" Amar nods, admitting it with no fuss.


    "When did that happen?" I try to hop up to better inspect the slightly gnarled flesh.


    It''s already mostly healed over, but the sign of injury was obviously unclean. Like the beast went back and forth chewing at him or it got infected. Ow ew, how gross.


    "Damia. It''s okay now. She''s locked up?" the boy tilts his head to allow me a better look.


    "Ewwwwww. " I grimace, thoughts of the bloodthirsty witch polluting my thoughts even worse than waking up in the men''s bath. Especially what position must have taken place for that bite mark to even get there.


    I don''t like the implications of that very much. Even if that monster is apparently taken care of and locked up. Stupid kid, what trouble did you get up to?


    "We will put another poultice and bandage wrap on, and you will not pick at it. " Cass warns the boy, covering back up his shoulders.


    "But it smells," Amar whines, oddly childish sounding. More so than his usual voice.


    "Yes. The bitter herbs work in many ways. And if you didn''t want to be smothered in it, you don''t go getting those wounds in the first place. " she sits and pulls the brat down onto her lap, whines and all.


    It''s nothing that a bit of Lily''s magic can''t make go away, but the healing process so far isn''t so bad. Especially from such a gross source.


    "Is it really okay? What happened?" I snuggle over, very comfy in my towel. It''s big enough on my to make a hood and cape, slightly dragging on the ground if I''m not careful.


    "Tis nothing of worth young Miss. Ventrella. " Cass kindly smiles at me, before switching expressions 180 degrees at a squirming Amar. All to handle his still wet hair and inspect the tiny nails on his hands.


    She pins him down in her arms, pulling up a kiddy foot as if to check his toenails were properly cut. Which they oddly were, neat and cute. Like tiny translucent seashells.


    "I''m fine?" Amar complains, finally beginning to blush.


    Oh ho? What is this? Do I smell...shame!?!


    "No. You are far from decent. Do you want fleas like your little friends?" she pulls out cork bottles of oils and something that smells like rose water, as well as a comb, working through this kid''s hair till it shone almost silky as her own.


    Wait..am I being accused of fleas again?! Damn it Lukas! This is all his fault everyone is getting the wrong idea!


    "Cass," Amar whines pathetically, sounding increasingly embarrassed.


    "You are stubborn but not this stubborn. Not usually....I see. Stay still, or I make it worse." Cass glances down quickly at me then back to her work.


    Oils and combs through the little boy''s hair, straightening through the fluff of drying curls neatly. Little towels clean behind his ears as Cass''s dedicated hands work at massaging oils and herbs into his skin.


    "What''s that? It smells sweet. Almond oil?" I sniff at the bottles, resisting the urge to laugh at my minion''s shame and pain.


    Oh ho ho, I failed. Oh ho ho ho!!!


    With pink cheeks and vengefully teary eyes, Amar takes a deep breath and forces himself still. He looks like a stubborn poodle forced at the groomers. His little fists clenching at his knees, the boy already curled into a tight ball.


    Yes! I am sick of your big kid attitude despite being nothing but a tiny little brat with hardly enough mochi on his bones. Fall into adorable uselessness with the rest of us stubby ones. Know your place! Get cuter and cuter in your pathetic helplessness! Bwahaha! Shake and cry in cuteness! Oh hohoho~


    "Pffft," Cass snorts, holding in her laughter. Partly burying her face in the back of Amar''s little head in an overly familiar manner.


    I see. The shameful kiddy cuteness was too much. She could not resist. I understand, for my own mother is much worse.


    Not to mention the too much nakedness thing, or perhaps because of all the exposed skin I now notice how there''s that exact hard to match undertone similarity. Though Cass is certainly fairer than Amar''s cinnamon warm tan, a certain olive shade matches, as well a bit of feature to the brow. The set of the eyes.


    They don''t look believably related or anything. But the overly familiar manner between them, and Amar''s tendencies to keep his mouth shut, make a smart cookie like me suspicious. Hmmmm I''m on to you.


    Oh ho ho ho~ No one can escape my sharp eye for detail!


    "The little ones are cuter when they''re a bit stupid. Is that right? " Cass snickers in the boy''s exposed ear, to which Amar slowly nods while still hiding in himself in a ball.


    Wait a minute....


    I pull and grasp at the exposed earlobes, soft like udon dough.


    "Hole." I squish, much to the cute screams.


    "Sorry! Rosa I''m sorry?" he apologies emptily, begging to be released.


    "There''s a hole....and another. Your hair is always covering them but how did I not notice? Are they new? No, it''s long healed." I pull the other side of his head, observing the simple piercings in both his little ears.


    I release to feel my own plain ears.


    Hmm, ear piercings aren''t all that common around here. Typically only very fashionable nobles and ladies have them since they''re the only ones who can afford the luxury of earrings. There are some veteran sailors too but that''s about it. No one else is stabbing a needle into their flesh for the fun of it.


    It''s nowhere as common as in modern times. Even as a noble villainess, Rosalia didn''t get her ears pierced till she was at least 13.


    How interesting.


    "Not again...ow ow ow,"Amar groans to my poking and proddings, Cass shaking in silent laughter the entire time.


    "How come you have piercings? When? Do you have earrings?!" I stretch.


    "I don''t know, but no boy wears them here. " Amar winces as I pull.


    So soft and squishy. This is kinda fun.


    "Alright, I release you." Cass pats a patch on his neck and lets the boy go, to which Amar rolls over and hides away. Immediately.


    Now that I think about Cass has earrings as well. I recall seeing her with hoops and these big dangly things.


    "Go find the other cute stupid one. Come back when you find the girl''s guardian. " she claps her hands over at me, patting to her now free lap.


    As a pampered young miss, served hand and foot for my every whim, as should be, I easily toddle over with my towel cape Plopping down on my rightful seat.


    Now then. I allow you to brush and groom me.


    "But Cass..." Amar whimpers, keeping a fearfully good distance.


    "Go find the little one''s lost parent, she''s safer here with me. Or do you want your ears pulled again?" Cass slightly pulls me up to readjust more comfortably in her lap, maybe using me as a threatening device.


    Needless to say, naked mochi butt number two disappears in an instant.


    "You two know each other. From before. " I speak up at the woman as she pulls down the towel enough to work the short tuff''s on my hair


    Floral and sweet almond oil comb calmly, much like a relaxing shampoo session at a salon.


    "The young mistress is wise and astute." Cass neither agrees nor disagrees, choosing wisely to praise me instead.


    "Of course I am. And I''m very very cute for it, even without being a little stupid. " I stretch and dangle my legs, hardly reaching her knees.


    "That you are." she agrees, taking my call out serenely.


    Since there is not that much hair to work with, even a second time over, she moves on to my little nails.


    With a half polished stone, she buffs out the sharp points and applies a wedge of lemon. I graciously allow the pampering, especially when she starts coating my nails with a substance from a tiny tube. Interestingly enough, it has a sponge tip, much like a modern laundry pen or makeup brush, that allows her to quickly apply the shiny oil.


    Oooooh polish! It''s drying into a polish! My nails are turning a cute seashell pink from them.


    Yes. Very good treatment. Carry on.


    "What an interesting thing, where did you buy it?" I remark, getting my other hand done.


    "A very long time ago, on the roads, when it runs out, then that is all," she says politely.


    "But not here, there''s nothing like it in our markets. Does it come in other colors?" I inquire.


    "Some yes. Some are paints, powders, or other things, but not all are like this. Oils safe for children." she paints another coat on my tiny fingers with ease.


    "Can you ingest poison too? Like Amar?"


    "...no. A little bit, anyone can, with tolerance, but not like that. This servant is no kin, if that is what the young mistress is understanding. "


    "I see. Well everyone has their secrets. I won''t pry too much. My papa seems to distrust much about you, keeping you in the dungeons so long. " I nod, allowing my nails to dry and be blown on.


    Ah how pretty. How long has it been since I got my nails done? Not bad at all.


    "They say all in the Ventrellas are of a strange force, even the babies. This servent sees what they say do not handle even a candle flame, in the face of your depths. " Cass vaguely speaks, as if a true child could understand a word of that.


    "Hmmpf, no one tells me anything. Ever. I didn''t even know I was coming to the baths today till I awoke naked. I''m left to figure out everything for myself, and find out for myself." I let out a snort, explaining myself.


    More importantly, explaining my stance.


    "Amar doesn''t like telling us much of anything. Not like Lukas, that one will never shut up. He says he played in the ocean with Yuna, or found a robber''s cave with cheese in it, but not why he even went or anything with Damia. She and her brother poisoned him badly and drank his blood you know? He was very sick and stupid then, and still very stupid now. It''s not cute at all, or well it''s not related. Now he''s working directly with my papa, isn''t he? And getting poison doses with it. Because he wants it." I simply state out, feeling the brief but frozen pauses in my pampering.


    I wonder if this Cass woman has realized what sits in her lap in not a cute little animal of a child, but something far worse. I wonder if she feels fear yet?


    "Such an imagination to make such statements. The eldest young mistress of house Ventrella is as lively as she is fanciful, how wonderful," she answers a little too professionally.


    "You''re a very decent liar. How is life in a harem? As a maid of course?"


    "..."


    The sharp intake, the hold of her breath, tells me everything I need to know to confirm my suspicions.


    I miss a lot of things I admit, but I''m not an idiot to forget that sort of danger signals.


    I haven''t forgotten. Every single little clue from my past till now. Collected like fairytale morsels of crumbs on a far too long too dark path. I pick them up. Even if I can''t make heads or tails of them, they go in my baggie. My brain. Till the day I can make use of them comes along.


    "Of course you won''t tell me much anything either, nor are you required to. Though any hints would be nice. I''m learning a lot just by watching. Oh, I hope you don''t take offense. Since grampa says you are unmatched, rude as he is, it must be true and I see it. Your hands are rather pretty, despite a bit of callous. You haven''t lead a harsh life of field labor and have a good technical eye. You have a taste for these little luxuries, but you''re not-" I trail off my evaluation, my eyes catching a passing figure.


    A mother and her young son, nothing strange or out of place here.


    At most one would notice her beauty. Dark straight hair, finely fair skin as is fashionable, delicate feminine features with a slight mix of something. A beautiful smile highlighted by a tastefully placed beauty mark. Her plump breasts are too large to be considered ideal here but let''s be honest, are in no way undesirable.


    A beautiful mature woman, but not insanely so nor that out of place.


    Not even with her son, a lanky thing about 9. He shares his mother''s fair smooth skin and beautiful face, but not her hair.


    Rusty pale copper, like a coin left in the intense setting sun to reflect and shine. Fruit on a tree left to fade.


    Carrots.


    "...Cosimo."


    I know them. I know them as my eldest uncle''s mistress, hidden away far from the family''s eye but close enough to reach. I know them and that boy. Just as much my blood cousin as any legitimate child on my cursed father''s side. I know who that boy will grow up into, the wealth he will grow.


    The only one who can truly give Philippe a fight for his position. One he was so sure he would grow to inherit.


    Eldest uncle Domenico has no sons, only daughters. None proved their worth, nor anywhere near qualified. Not that they would care for the outward power struggle, not when their marriages were on the line. Though uncle Domenico is the true and rightful Lord of the Bicchieri estate, the next in line would go Philippe''s father. Then as his one and only child, the only male of the generation, Philippe would stand to inherit everything.


    Or so he thought.


    Well, it''s not like I was around to witness how that family drama ended. Shame.


    Oh my my my cousin Cosimo. To think we would ever run into each other, and like this?


    "Where does the young mistress, with her fanciful thoughts and eager legs, want to run off to now?" Cass keeps her stern grip on me, still steady on her lap.


    "...you''re not scared of me yet?" I look up to the lying ''maid''.


    "Like those ...temporary dungeons, the young mistress will have to try harder than that. Perhaps in a few years?" she smiles with a twitch.


    Then bends and practically cracks my leg over my head, buffing and checking at my toenails. Ow ow ow. I know kids are flexible but that came out of nowhere. Eeeep! And that tickles! AHahaha!


    "I- ahaha- just saw someone -ahahah I know- ha! Family members oh ho hahaha. " the tickles do not cease despite Cass merely holding on to buff and trim.


    Ahahhaaha my little kid feet are just too ticklish! Oh the pressure, this solid pressure of tickling sensation is too much. What is this torture?! Ahahahahahah!!!


    "Very well. I release you now. Do not wander out of sight, and return here for a safe proper return in these baths. "


    I''m let go just like that. Inertia and weakness has my mochi butt rolling over with a plop.


    I think I understand my minion a little better now. This lady is scary. My feet at still tingling.


    "This...isn''t over." I huff and puff, trying to recover my breath.


    "Of course young mistress, thank you to playing with little kahk....there are no friends for a child to make in a harem."


    Oh weak knees, very weak knees, hahaha standing tickles. Did she hit some tickle specific pressure points on me or what? Wait what did she just say?


    When I turn from the floor in shock, Cass acts busy grooming her own hair. As if she didn''t say a thing.


    Friends?


    Geez everyone getting the wrong idea all the time thanks to those henchmen in training. More trouble than they''re worth, I can just feel it. Meh, oh well. I have my own troubles to deal with now.


    Wrapping the towel around me tighter, I hide and hop closer to the targets. Absolutely sure I have the right people in mind, but still observing to check.


    Otherwise, it would be a very awkward case of mistaken identity when I do act.


    Taking I deep breath, and with no time to go over a game plan again in my head, I finally move. And promptly slip on the wet floor.


    "Oh! Oh no, are you alright?" the beautiful boing boing boobie- I mean! The beautiful mistress! She shouts in fright, helping me up off my wet butt.


    Ahem, I mean...all according to my evil plan. The target''s guard is completely down now. What a technique.


    Also, I think my father and his brother have the same kind of type?


    Sure everyone and anyone who gets involved with the Bicchieris must have some level of scheming to them, but who can resist the call of helpless kiddy cuteness? I follow up with tearful blinks, a reasonable level of cuteness attack. Let''s not overdo it now.


    "Um, um I''m sowry..." I sniff and blink, looking up at them.


    I don''t need to be nervous facing the future rising head of the banking systems or his scheming mother at all. Nor do I need to imagine them naked to ease said nerves, for they already are naked.


    Ah, the messed up things I do as a villainess.


    "Oh it''s alright dear-!!" the woman, who once was so nice and gentle, freezes her hand when the towel slips off my head.


    It''s not like she knows my face. Or who I am. But I suppose it really is hard to mistake this shade of hair. Damn it.


    "I- um...I was told to tell you something. But- but... " I whimper, pulling out the helpless and cute child card.


    Cuter when a bit stupid. Act cuter because you''re a bit stupid. Get into character Rosalia girl, you got this!


    "Mother! Stand back. " her son quickly stands between his mother and me, the oh so intimidating threat of a naked three year old in a towel.


    But hey I can''t blame him. We kinda sorta have some messed up family.


    "..I got a wittle lost, but um..." I flop my towel blanket a bit useless. Not flashing anyone but enough to show how absolutely weak and harmless I am.


    That and it''s to think, even a second longer.


    What moves can I reasonably make here? What impression can I make to bring them over to my side?


    Maybe not now, but later. Another big crumb in the bag, something to save and use in the deck of hand.


    "...you''re going to have a girl. " I blink up, eyeing the slight bump I can now see up close on the woman''s slightly swollen stomach.


    Yes, the timeline is right. Right now in that tummy is cousin Violante.


    Cosimo fought tooth and nail to climb his ranks. By the time Violante was old enough to be baptized and educated, he had taken his little sister and mother across the main doorways of the Bicchieris. A vicious little girl, with her mother''s dark beauty, and a scheming money-making brother who kept his fangs hidden till the right moment. They fitted right in.


    "What...pardon..."


    "Mother keep back. Don''t come any closer, it could be dangerous-"


    "....You shall have daughter madame, and by the time she turns 6, you will raise her fully as a Bicchieri. You will not stay hidden forever, your son and wealth shall rise till no one is able to ignore you. "


    Ah there we go, that look of over compassing awe and fear. Yet there''s that little tick, a certain insanity.


    Of course, anyone who stays gets involved with the Bicchieri, especially to the point of bearing one child, let alone two must be some sort of crazy.


    "Who sent you?" Cosimo snarls, the thin arm of a mere child held out to shield his own mother.


    Oh ow ow ow my eyes, not looking down at anyone. Especially boys with their extra parts! Not looking...I''m too short! Ahhh this is not how I ever imagined this meeting with my own cousin to go.


    "Now now my cosmos, let us hear this fully. No need to shoot the messenger, nor one so small and adorable... If there is a chance for us to rise so...it would not benefit to not hear it out. "


    "But mother-"


    "My son, do you foolishly think they would send the child alone?! My apologies, little one. Whatever is it you need to say?" she coos and smiles down at me, already patting her own still small stomach.


    "...Take the risks, put in the money, don''t mind the guilds. But don''t take them lightly, you can win them over slowly." I recite. Speaking as close as I can to a child that''s merely been trained to repeat something rather than something from myself.


    They''re nothing but hints. Cosimo is still too young, he may not fully understand yet. But he will. The slight spark in his mother''s eyes says he definitely will.


    "Are they orders?" she smiles as lovely as a flower.


    "...I don''t know? I was just told that?" I tilt my head, stealing another move of cuteness.


    What? It''s useful!


    The mother nods and smiles, putting a calming hand on her son''s shoulder, drawing them back. She takes the message as is, long used to strange messages in strange places. It does after all come with the territory of being such a high profile mistress.


    "...ah I forgot, one more thing. Pleawse?" I pretend to be nervous, feet already edging away to escape into the crowds of bathers.


    "Go on. Please."


    "Um...someone will die. In the family...that person will die, and only after will you come to light. " I dare not tell them that death is to be her man, Cosimo and Violante''s father, my own uncle.


    Quickly, I slip into a passing gaggle of school-aged girls and disappear from their sights.


    No one follows me, but I drop and flip the towel none the less. It''s too conspicuous looking, it makes me too recognizable. I change the side, thankfully of a different color pattern, and sneak myself away.


    When I look back from a hidden pillar I''ve climbed, they leave themselves. Cosimo, red in the face, searches while his mother pulls him back. I watch until they''re gone for good.


    Ahh my heart! What a strange anti-climatic turn of event. Whew!


    It''s nothing I can use yet, nor anytime soon. But...hopefully, this isn''t a half-bad investment I made for myself. Oh ho ho ho.


    "Your strange laugh is very recognizable they say, and this servent now sees that very clearly. Why do you children all like climbing such things? " Cass asks, directly below me from the pillar.


    "...I...like to feel... tall?" I squeak out, not at all growing to fear this woman with every passing minute. How did she find me like that? Is she a secret guard?!


    "Shortie Rosa ahahaha!" Lukas pops out, blinding me once more from nakedness.


    "But Lukas? Why are you shorter now? " Amar asks, hiding behind Cass''s skirts. Hitting right where it hurts with his questions.


    "Ack! Am not!...much. It was a really big bad fight and magic and and-it made me less awesome and owies and-" the slightly younger and smaller boy falls short of variety in his words.


    He should have shrunk more, for Lukas is still visibly a bit taller than Amar, and definitely much taller than me. But hey, gives us a bit more leverage in catching up. Not so big and tall now huh?!


    "Stooooopid, get smaller and smaller to be wittle bruder heee heee. Be smaller!" my little sister pops out last, the smallest of this strange train of hidden naked babies.


    "Never! Nooooo!" Lukas screams, pointing angrily.


    "Little bruder! Bwahahaha! Little bruder little bruder~" she dances, blinding my eyes as much as she rubs salt in Lukas''s wound.


    "Nooooooo!!!! Amar make her stop!" Lukas clings and sobs adorably to the smaller boy.


    "...why?" Amar tilts his head, acting cute.


    "Little wittle tiny iny little bruder!" Lillyanne continues to shake. Her every movement filling me with more shame than I can handle.


    "Waaaah!! No no nooooo!!! I''m not shrinking! Noooooooo!" Lukas chases after her naked baby dancing, pushing her into the water.


    Good thing she can swim now.


    And everyone''s still naked.


    I''ll just look away now.


    No time to be a real scheming villainess yet. Still stuck being a useless little kid, and stuck with all this. Time to just, maybe fall asleep and hopefully wake up back home? Yeah good plan me. Towel mode on!


    "...Your little friends are a bit stupid," Cass speaks down to the one child still hiding behind her skirts.


    "...Just a little. It''s very cute." he nods up at her.


    "Hmm that it is...Except that Rosalia. She is cute like a hissing tabby kitten yes, much like Yuna, but in the deranged possessed spirit of a ghost child that brings disasters way. " Cass grimaces, thinking back. Perhaps remembering when said child was looking up at her with the face of an expensive doll, yet the mouth of a demon, maybe hoping to buy your soul at a discount.


    "Just a little." Amar nods again.


    Everyone is just so rude!


    --------------------------------------


    ------------------


    ---


    Extra Halloween Bonus. The modern world and a bit mundane.


    Of course very gross.


    Very skippable.


    ---


    -----------------


    ----------------------------------------


    "You can''t be my boss." Meng said strictly, making those terrible last-minute touches to her makeup in that tiny passenger mirror.


    "I am literally your boss. " stated the driver, turning the block after a red light.


    "Ok but Yao, like you can''t act like my boss tonight. At all. That''s not the point and it won''t get you anywhere." Meng rolled her eyes, forcing them to stay open as she applied an even thicker amount of liner.


    It was Halloween. The one time of year to really dress up. That and cosplay conventions. But the one time of year everyone else dresses up too!


    And Meng was lazy this year. Blame work.


    At least the studio was nice enough to not lock up, and she could nick something that fit.


    "What makes you think I''m even trying to get anywhere? Or it even matters?" the older man resisted the urge bang his head onto the steering wheel.


    "Because Jung-Soo was totally checking out your ass when you left last time. Good work Yao. " Meng complimented her manager by slapping his thigh.


    Yep, iron-strong. It hurt her hand and got a full pass in her book. No time wasted at the gym there.


    "Haha. Very funny. " Yao groaned out, feeling less and less ready for anything with every light they drove past. Closer and closer to a certain bar.


    "Dude. You are like, cute and funny and successful and your body gorgeous for an old man." Meng listed out.


    "....I''m 31. And should I file for harassment?!" Yao shouted over to his assistant.


    "You could. But then you lose time, money, and me. Good luck finding my replacement. HR will give you another nice well-meaning intern who can''t do shit on time, follow up, and can''t order Chinese food with you." she sassed back.


    "Ahh you have convinced me by the power of late night dim sum and noodles." Yao frowned.


    "Blessed be 24 hour dim sum! But not tonight. Tonight we party, and you get some! "


    "Very funny Meng....I don''t...okay like I didn''t even know I maybe like guys. In fact, I still don''t know! Maybe my ex was right and I just...fail with women too much that I make up excuses and....and Jung-Soo is just...well...he''s just being nice to someone like me. "


    The young woman felt her eyes roll to the back of her head.


    There were many things wrong with that statement, so many.


    For one her gay manager was so very gay. Okay, that is not actually correct and anyone was free to question and discover where their sexuality laid on the spectrum. But in this case, and in her tiredness, Meng was still going to say it.


    "Yao. You are so very gay. I love you but don''t be so damn dense. Do you know why you fail with women, your petty jealous ex? Because men like Jung-Soo exist and your gay little heart goes hammering." she gestured, waving a mascara wand into the air.


    "Yeah but how do I know? I don''t want to mess up, make a fool or myself waste Jung-Soo''s kindness and-" Yao calmly kept his eyes on the road, despite the sigh at his throat.


    "Another thing. Jung-Soo is never nice. Never. You have shitty taste in men, my dude. Good eyes but shitty tastes. He is never "nice". Fully corrupt black-bellied type behind his glasses and that one pretty mole, but he is nice to you. He flirts, with you. Specifically. Get it? " Meng pointed out the easiest equation in the world.


    Jung-Soo Park was exactly the bad walking stereotype of the good looking glasses character that Meng and Jung-Joon constantly joked about. Efficient yes, charming also yes, when he wanted to be, where it suited him best.


    Possibly evil and manipulative? Oh absolutely.


    But something about Meng''s manager made the cool figure warm up a little, soften his edge, dare she say it, linger!


    Oh, it was just positively too good, if only these fools didn''t keep dancing around each other?!


    She''s given up how many coffee runs and breaks with Jung-Joon, making up all sorts of excuses, just to send Yao instead. Specifically, on days she was sure the middle brother was working or loitering.


    Jung-Joon had laughed, he was doing practically every day now.


    Just setting up his laptop at a corner of the newer Park bakery. The biggest one their eldest sister managed instead of any spying parental eyes. As if constantly making himself ready and available for any cute fit young advertising executive to just stumble in. Thirsty for coffee, a sweet and maybe something more.


    Oh god, they were having a coffee shop romance. It was so cute Meng was going to vomit. It was getting annoying how nothing was happening, yet it was all just so cute.


    "You''re being too harsh, it''s because he''s like your older brother in law at this point...He is really easy on the eyes... " Yao sighed in that kind of way that said he was gone, and Meng felt like screaming in frustration.


    But alas she was just too used to this. Her manager was oddly dense when it came to looks directed at himself. Even if he was rocking a suit and too tight little dress shirts and dress pants.


    "Whatever. Tonight you are not my ''boss'', you''re the sexy glowing you. We worked too hard, we went to the spa for god''s sake, and you will get SOME."


    "...recognition?"


    "...I hate your gay Chinese ass so much. Wait no, I take it back your ass is fine, it''s your damn brain! And that self-esteem thing, don''t worry about it. We''re all fucked up. It''s fine. I promise you''re not the only awkward Asian kid in a middle of nowhere town anymore. You''re a fine mature and wonderful person, who puts work into himself. And you''re just...good." she pats at his broad shoulder, inspecting his costume for the night.


    Yep, very fine. Can''t go wrong with a tight-fitting superhero costume to really define all those features, like those thighs. Meng nodded and patted herself on the back for picking so well.


    Personality and character was the most important thing to a relationship, but damn does a good booty help.


    "I want to say thank you, because that last part really was sweet and encouraging, but I''m feeling kinda objectified right now by you staring a hole into my thighs. " he turned to her, tutting.


    "You have worked so hard and built yourself up like an underwear model. Jung-Soo will not be able to resist. Did you know his childhood superhero crush is Nightwing? I know he doesn''t seem like the type but-" Meng was spilling out as much help as she could.


    "WHAT?!" to which Yao not only did not appreciate, but he even braked the car.


    "No no no keep driving, Yao. You are not turning this car around! No chickening!"


    "I have to go change Meng. I gotta. "


    "Oh no you''re not. Go go go, you''re holding up traffic."


    "I don''t think you understand. I am in the stupid Nightwing costume that you picked?! This isn''t funny anymore, and it never was."


    "I don''t think you understand blah blah blah, gas it. Or I will." she threatened, already half climbing over to the seat.


    "Sit your little furry red riding hood ass back down, that''s dangerous. Fine. Just fine!"


    The poor victim to Meng''s happy matchmaking drove on, finally turning into a certain familiar parking lot. He was about to park just long enough to kick Meng out, then drive off to change himself but a certain thump and crash had them both jumping in their seats.


    "Ahhhhhh!!!" Meng screamed the loudest, weak to jump scared. And scares of any kind really. Hated them.


    Which was quite ironic given her love of Halloween.


    "What the shit? Oh god, what?" Yao started panicking for an entirely different reason, fearing he had just hit a person.


    However the figure rolled off the hood a bit too dramatically, the car already barely rolling along at a low speed in the parking lot. There was little to no chance of anyone being hit by that, not unless they ran at the care. It looked like a young male, very well dressed, and he groaned as he dropped to the ground.


    "Who the fuck?" Meng went stomping out, her too tall cartoonishly red heels clicking each step.


    "Oi you. Get the hell up!" she had little mercy for the supposed victim crouched in the headlights, kicking him lightly.


    She would have kept kicking if it were not for the problem of maintaining her balance, especially as a hand swiftly reached out, grabbing her by the ankle.


    "You? You hit and ran me over first. Be prepared to pay the consequences. Be my woman." he looked up, a mischievous smile on a smooth handsome face.


    His hand reached up to her leg a little shamelessly, his face placed against her thigh and Meng shuddered from the sudden cold felt through the sheerness of her costume stockings.


    "Did you watch too much old shitty Kdramas with your brother again? How old is that kind of out of date line? Do you want to die?" she bent down to smack the younger boy, since kicking wasn''t a feasible option. Not if she didn''t want to fall over her own feet in this parking lot.


    "Ah. Firey one. Little red riding hood? With a tail, oh not bad. So violently rough.... Should I show you what rough really is?" Jung-Joon stood up with a smirk, but not without picking up a screaming Meng with him.


    "What''s wrong with you tonight?!" she screamed and squirmed with a fight in his arms.


    "Oh my pretty lady. I, as a badly written overbearing CEO, am always in the right. I always get what I want. No matter how unreasonable. And right now, I want some compensation. "


    "....you what?"


    He dipped her down and she screamed again, then screamed silently as his face paused but a breath away from hers. Too much blood going to her head.


    "Com-pen-sa-tion." his lips ghosted over hers, her eyes long gone wide in shock and something more like drowning. Not with the starry dark night sky and that, that face peering over hers.


    So close, too close.


    "Bitch I''m broke. " she barked.


    A matching smile formed on her own face as he blinked and pressed their foreheads together. Their messy laughter breaking all characters and whatever they were supposed to be.


    "...Hey. Can we not do this in front of my car? " Yao honked. He sighed back into his seat, recognizing the framed accident for exactly what it really was.


    A badly staged drama.


    Those two were honestly pretty damn diabetically cute, he thought. If they didn''t keep dancing around each other going nowhere!


    "Hnn." Jung-Joon made an exaggeratingly cold and cruel noise as he righted Meng up.


    Looking away, he snapped a hand up in the air and suddenly, two people showed up out of nowhere. Pulling a very surprised Yao out and parking his car like it was their job.


    "Did you have to do it like that?" Meng snorted.


    "I, as an unbelievably sexy and dominating CEO, can do that. All overbearing CEOs snap and things just happen, it''s CEO magic. As my woman, the sexy perfect viewer living this fantasy, it''s your job to be impressed, ignore the plotholes and get used it." JJ snapped again, the main door to the bar opening to the fanfare of partygoers this spooky night.


    "Stop. I can''t." she can''t stop laughing with every stupid line out his mouth.


    He snaps again, this time bodyguards coming out not only to welcome them in with style but to quite literally escort them all in. All of them. Giving no one time to escape and change clothes.


    Not even Nightwing. Especially not Nightwing.


    "Oh come on." Yao complained, being quite literally threatened in.


    "No way, you got everyone in on this shit?" Meng marveled, pulling off her hood to reveal the fake animal''s ears.


    "I CEO seduced everyone. Isn''t that right Hernandez?" Jung-Joon leaned over slightly to one of the dressed-up bouncers, his arm still escorting the wolfish little red riding hood in like a sleazy mafia boss.


    "Oh yeah, I gotta call up my wife kids and tell them Papi''s leaving them for this fine money man here." the middle-aged bouncer nodded his big head eagerly, batting his little eyelashses in false love and adoration.


    "That''s right. I own everything and everyone. Even their hearts. " Jung-Joon seriously threw a stack of most likely fake money, making it rain on the floor.


    Meng was dying, the party hardly started and she was dying in laughter. She was gonna fall off her stupid costume high heels and roll on the floor in laughter. She was not looking cute at all simply wheezing through this.


    "Be- ahahaha real with me ahahhaa for a second. Where''s Jung-Soo?" she managed to get out.


    Only to be pinned, kabedon style, to the nearest wall. Much to the heated oooos and wolf whistles around them.


    "Don''t look at any other man but me." he lifted her chin, forcing her to look closely into his eyes, leaning in close.


    "....pFFFFFTT ahahahahahh!!!! I saiD, ahahah I can''t ahahahahahA! i''M DYING JJ!!!" she was losing it.


    "...I accept. Die in my arms tonight? In return, give me the pleasure of dying in between your legs."


    "AAHHHAHAHAHAHH!"


    Kabedon failed, overbearing CEO definitely failed.


    Or was a success however you looked at it. It was a pretty great joke. Meng doubled over laughing her guts out. Oh that hurt. She thinks she lost or swallowed a fake fang in her painful laughter.


    "No no no, bad dog down dog. Bad! Step away!" shouts a chubby Korean Jesus with a lightsaber, separating the two.


    "Bossman, hahaha, please,hahahaha control your youngest. " Meng begged the ''Lord''.


    "As a badly written overbearing CEO with no real personality outside being rich, sexy, and toxic... no one but ''my woman'' can control me." Jung-Joon snapped his fingers uselessly, before taking the lightsaber and hitting his own brother with it.


    "You sinner, ack, betrayal. Ouch. Jung-Joon stop that ow ack I''m sorry but not at my bar. Ow?!"


    Another point over the badly written overbearing CEO. Fake Korean Jesus, even if they were brothers, could do nothing but take it.


    "Okay seriously. Guys. Where''s Jung-Soo? I did my part and brought, ahem oh ho ho, Nightwing." the gut bursting laughter slowly calmed to a giggle, Meng seriously looking for the other part to her matchmaking set up.


    Only to find both of them very not at the scene.


    "Maybe they already ran into each other? If that''s the case I bet they''re already alone in some dark corner." Jung-Joon offered voice back to normal.


    "No way, Yao''s kind of dense. Even to himself, oh especially about himself." Meng brought up, hopping a bit a see better and still failing to spy either the handsome middle Park brother or her manager in that meticulously chosen costume.


    "Oh no worries, we''re used to that. " Jung-Joon smiled and steadied the girl, his expression a little in pain from how perfect it was.


    "Yeah but like Yao is ''dense''. So dense we''re talking osmium levels of fluff and dense." she argued back.


    "Yes. Yes we are very used that that." Jung-Hyuk groaned, stroking his fake beard like a wise old sage.


    "So like I honestly think Jung-Soo has to be the one to suck it up and make the first move. Or well moves. It might take a while, but tonight''s tension should speed it up. " she stated the game plan, giddy with the drama.


    Blame the work stress. This was exhilarating!


    "Somehow, I don''t think Jung-Soo is having as much trouble?" Jung-Joon sighed, handing back the lightsaber.


    "....What are you saying? " the eldest accepted the plastic sword, tapping it a bit threateningly.


    "Oh. Oh my god. What? What''s the tea? Spill? Where are they?" Meng gleefully hung on to Jung-Joon''s side, hoping for a morsel more of this cute drama.


    "I don''t know and even if I did I can''t say, may the force be with you." Jung-Joon pushed off his brother, the only ''single'' one in his bitter chase to interrupt, block and keep his bar good and clean.


    Yeah, good luck with that.


    "So? Little red riding hood, maybe I should have gone with a wolf instead." Jung-Joon jokes, leading Meng away from the wall and back to where the party really was.


    "Too bad I''m already a wolf as well, see?" she played with the ears on her head, making them twitch cutely.


    "Hmmm with fake vampire fangs?" he pokes at the one sticking out.


    "Who cares about the labels, as long as it works. What about you hmm Mr. ''Badly written overbearing CEO'', where''d you get that idea?" she smacked him away, defending her remaining fang. It was a look.


    "You''re just a sucker for me in a suit, admit it." he modeled for her.


    "Correction, I am a sucker for any good looking person in a suit." Meng offered.


    "Oh really now?"


    Snap. Snap.


    The snapping was once again useless, but he did lead her to the party buffet spread.


    "Oh. Yep. Yeah you are the best in a suit or whatever. Yes, whatever you want. Mmmm I swoon. Laugh and swoon. Come on." her eyes sparkled, already picking out what to eat first, second third and so forth.


    Jung-Joon simply took it all in, enjoying this and the cute little red werewolf pulling at his arm. It was in some sense pure torture, just absolutely frustration. It was a bad joke how they were used to it yeah but, really he just wanted to be with the one person he picked. He just wanted to be with her.


    That''s all that really mattered. As messy as it was. He wouldn''t suffer with anyone else.


    "Okay but how are you going to eat anything with your fake fang?"


    "Oh shit."


    Happy Hallow Holidays.


    -------------------------------

 140 Honey Trap

    My father, who I have not seen in awhile, stands with his typical poker face, expressionless and disinterested. As if he were not standing around wasting time, which he absolutely is.


    His stare at me a far too focused, with as much intensity as he can get in neutral peaceful mode.


    Right behind him, mother looks tired. She holds her face in her handkerchief, but her entire demeanor seems tired and partly given up. If anything, the toddler in her arms gives her enough love and distraction, once she recovers from her sudden headache.


    "Father....I merely asked if you had ever been to the public baths. " I dare to peep, voice small and echoing.


    "Yes. Now I have. " father agrees.


    It''s his first time. Today. Right now.


    "Darling..." mother starts, taking a deep breath, "when I said you could take the girls, that it would be wonderful to bond, this wasn''t what I meant."


    "I do not see my problem my Maria, my love. " father hardly raises an eyebrow, his version of honestly surprised that mother isn''t swooning in his arms like she typically does.


    "You bought out the whole place?!!" I scream, gesturing to the empty baths.


    Yes, I am back. But this time not only am I thankfully entirely clothed but have gotten to supreme VIP privilege of getting the place entirely to myself. The largest public bath, completely emptied out as my private playground? How wonderful.


    No! No it''s not! This is too much. This is just stupid! How and when did this happen?


    "Never have I have I ever ''buy the whole place out'' my dear silly Chip. It''s merely been cleaned and booked for the following five days. I suspect you will be bored by then, having moved on to a new fascination." father offers back, his hand presenting to grand empty space.


    The baths.


    Completely devoid of life except myself, my family, a few servants, and my poor gaping assistant.


    Georgie close your jaw. Georgie, stop drooling. Georgie no. Georgie!


    I swear I am spoiling this boy. He''s acquiring too much a taste for the VIP things in life. Oh but who wouldn''t? I can''t blame him there. Everyone loves money and what you can buy with it.


    Just how much did it cost to completely book out the resort town''s largest and most popular public bath for a week?


    Too much. That''s all I need to know. What a waste of money. But that can''t be right, father never wastes money. Gambles maybe, but not waste. He doesn''t play games he loses.


    "...Father. What are your intentions?" I turn up to him suspiciously.


    But he looks down on me intently without a single word. In the fact, only sound may be mother judgemental hum, behind her exasperated and displeased expression.


    Is this? Another scheme?!


    Oh ho ho and I''m once again left in the dark. But knowing all that I do of this man, in any lifetime, I can easily infer that there is more to his actions than the obvious. There always is.


    Go on, he said...


    Father is testing me again. It must be another homework assignment!


    "I understand now father... We shall renovate this place as patrons! Not only do we raise public perception, solidifying our position and power. But in such a large highly frequented place, but we can weave our influence and hide our purposes further into the building itself as well as in the people''s minds. Oh ho ho!" I look around, now finally seeing all this potential.


    "...." father does not respond much.


    After all, I have yet to show any results, any payoffs. But the relaxed expression, serene almost, as well as the expectation in his eyes is practically a sparkling go ahead!


    "Hee hee bath? Bathy wit mama and papa!" Lily laughs, waving out her little arms.


    "Don''t be ridiculous Lily, big sister has an important project to do. Assigned by father himself. I only have..a week!" I respond to my sister''s babyish improper perceptions, feeling increasingly overwhelmed with the stuff I have to do in order to fit the time limit.


    Ah yes, the challenge of it all! A worthy and difficult test for the time father.


    "...I blame you for this entirely, darling. " mother taps her foot, bouncing and binding Lilyanne from tossing off her clothes and jumping into a ''swimmy'' pool.


    "...This isn''t how you said it would go my Maria. But I do not see an issue if it pleases the girls. " father replies. However, when he reaches out a hand, he is firmly rejected.


    Oh my. What is this? Is mother''s mood even worse than I thought?


    "I had said, my beloved, ...that you could go take them for the baths together....not buy the whole place out!" she yells.


    It echoes quite a lot in here.


    "The public bath is not bought, such a profitless low venture, but merely rented. As I had stated before. " father reasons.


    "What then, shall you be making of our limited time together? My oh so busy husband? "


    Mother is very grumpy lately.


    It could be that she''s feeling stress over the extra work our family vineyards are this year, preparing for a harsh winter taking heed of the warning signs of famine. The grapes and olives in full ripening, all hands on deck for the last production and storage of our staple wine and olive oil.


    It could be because designers and architects have been chasing us down despite moving to the resorts this fall. Asking about from flooring and installations on our home renovations to promoting weaves of wool stocks or specific sale strategies of spider silks. There are things to stock and things to liquidate, things to save, and things to finalize. All very much a headache.


    It could be that time of the month!


    A very valid concern for any woman, especially when those cramps hit.


    That would make sense. The avoidance of the hot springs in the last two days, despite how much she liked soaking for relaxation. The increased naps, sending away all sorts of visitors either for business or leisure. The shameless use of Lilyanne or I as a living belly warmer.


    Also, I think I caught her stress eating raw honeycomb straight from a harvest offering last night, just like some wild bear, and I don''t want to talk about it.


    Of it could be that father has literally been running off on work and his own matters of business.


    Busy time of year. Especially this year with all my contingency plans.


    I also believe he''s also pulling some shady strings in court. What is he plotting now?


    It''s nothing I can interfere with though, despite my confusion. I haven''t even seen my father these past few days, let alone find the time to ask or interrogate him.


    I do not mean to imply anything disrespectfully scandalous.... But they have not, and I say this was absolute concern and certainty, have not spent the night in a very long time. Not if mother''s boo hoo-ing while glomping my sister and I into her bed means anything. Definitely not since we first night we got here and I had my fainting night in the still flooded dungeons.


    I think she''s getting frustrated. In more than one manner.


    It''s not my fault at all! In fact, I should be suing for the mental and emotional damage these parental units are imposing on me.


    But a grumpy mother is very frightening indeed.


    Father, please come back for good. Please finish up work afar and work from home instead. Take care of your scary wife. She''s being especially more frightening as of late. Please.


    And so I accept this homework assignment with glee. Not only does it give me something productive to do, but it will get me away from my mother. Clingy, sticky, stress snacking and crying, mother.


    The snacks are yummy though, I am very ok with that.


    "Swimmies! Lily show everyone how good she swimmy nows. " my sister still does not give up, wiggling in mother''s arms in excitement.


    "Lily no, that will get in the way of my inspection! Lilyanne keep your clothes on!" I try ordering.


    But when has my little sister ever truly listened to me? Oh, the headaches the future shall bring.


    "Wit papa!" she cries, calling forth the nerd.


    Already trying to get good looking men into her grasps. Oh my. Such a horrifying little girl. Her future still concerns me greatly.


    Luckily this man is not only at least her father, but a very taken man.


    "Lilyanne my love, my sweet, little duckie. Not even mama can do that. " mother smiles a little too brightly, a grip turning viably tight and painful on my squeaking little sister.


    "... It''s alright, I can take her. " father offers, eyes suspiciously going back and forth between my sister and I.


    I don''t trust that kind of scheming sparkling look. It''s the same kind when he sees a butter churner or stupid machines that spin. Call it a gut instinct but I suddenly don''t trust father taking us to the baths at all!


    I feel as if only shameful trauma and blood awaits me.


    "As I said, my little love " mother insists with no small amount of resentment, squeezing Lilyanne as she squeals like a little rubber chicken, " your papa is just soooooo busy. Not even mama can touch him! "


    I think I need to get out of here before her stress and frustrations lead to a crime. A crime that will eventually occur, and I would rather not be witness to. I should save the nerd while I still can.


    "Father? What''s my budget? Father can I use some of your sculptors and architects? There''s plenty than enough to spare, they keep requesting audiences and bothering mother. Father do you have the reference contacts for the maintenance workers and plumbers of this place? Or should we ship people in from the troops? Should I call grampa? Are there any useful professionals still being held or processed in the outer dungeons? Georgie! Set the inquires out! Interview the current employees here for areas of concern and upgrades. Hurry father, let''s start a tour of the facilities at once before- EEeeeeep!"


    Rubber chicken! I''m being squeezed like a rubber chicken! Mother''s gotten me from out of nowhere and is squeezing me to death!


    What did I even do? Nothing?! Ahhhhh!!!


    Life is very unfair and mother rules all. We are helpless against her strange whims.


    "No no no my other equally tiny birdie, we mustn''t keep papa at all. " she begins carrying off my sister and I like were two hunks of fruit bought at the market.


    "...Maria?" father automatically loses the custody battle before it even started.


    "He''s far too busy with even MORE work. Oh no don''t mind me, I''ll just be sitting pretty following up on all YOUR farm projects and everyone looking for YOU oh my daaaarling~."


    Mother is in a very very very bad mood.


    "Ah, those ants managed through... I''ll have all those fools imprisoned and sent to backbreaking labor immediately. But yet..." father takes a closet look, inspecting his own wife with all the fascination a scientist reserve for new mutation in their studied species of bacteria.


    "Flushed cheeks and lips but irregular complexation, steps slightly heavier despite no major weight fluctuations, seemingly irritable but irresistible, a sign or the hormones.... Maria, my love. Are you in the peak of ovulation again?"


    And my father is dead. Oh so very dead.


    "Rosalia~ Lilyanne~ My lovely little girls, say goodbye to papa now, then close your eyes~" mother smiles down on us lovingly.


    "My condolences, father. " I nod at doomed man,


    "Bye bye papa~" Lilyanne smacks her hand to her lips to blow a goodbye kiss.


    "Tis a tad earlier than I expected, but rest assured I shall care of your estate properly. " I follow up, all before mother turns us around into the arms of her waiting maids.


    I do not see a thing, but I do hear some very strange sounds.


    It''s very similar to that of a great accident, such as the kind Lukas gets into when he breaks a series of things. Stone. Rock. An entire cave once. Perhaps comparable to a modern demolition project. There is certainly screaming and shouting, but it''s mainly coming from my Georgie.


    "Ahhh~ Alrighty girls! Let''s get going back now and have a nice tea time. Oh yes, tea and snackies." mother claps for our return into her possession. Nothing but smiles and a bit of sparkling marble dust.


    My father is entirely missing from this scene. He either escaped to live another day or he is currently buried under the rubble. Both are fine so long I still get his money.


    Blinking through the clouds of dust and wreckage, I''m proud to say that the renovations of the public baths have started marvelously.


    Work hard everyone! We only have a week!


    ---------------------------


    --------------


    ---


    Mother is in a slightly better mood today.


    "How nice it is to not be bothered by so many audiences!" she remarks in an airheaded bliss.


    While mother cannot properly sit in the hot springs to unwind, she can luxuriously splash around in a soothing foot bath by one of the shallow pools.


    How scandalous, a lady''s naked feet. Outside uncovered of all things.


    "Splish splash, splish splash gubble bubble bllrrrrbbrbrb," goes my little sister, doggy paddling around the pool in her little pumpkin sized shorts,


    She is, thankfully, not naked this time.


    Work hard maids, protect your grumpy lady, and her dainty daughter''s modesty, and keep everyone out!


    The maids scamper around doing all sorts of chores. From refilling mother''s tea, to taking her signed and unsigned paperwork back and forth, sorting them out for convenience''s sake. We are after all outside, enjoying the colorful turning of the trees, having tea and fresh seasonal snacks with our foot baths.


    Though there is work to always do, not a single soul has come rudely knocking this afternoon, begging for a scheduled audience with the lady of the house. Thank goodness.


    They really were very annoying, and seemingly never-ending. While some were understandably pitiful managing workers, lost without father''s guiding presence in the unexpected design and building errors,.... most were just so stupidly annoying!


    Mother had such a headache hearing them all out if it was just in the scheduled late morning and afternoon hours.


    It got bad enough even I had to step in. Me! The toddler!


    Ok more like I just got too annoyed.


    For quite a good portion of my afternoons, I''ve taken pity on my ill and already busy mother. It''s been all:


    ''I''m very sorry your goat got eaten by your neighbor again Mr. farmer something but there''s nothing we can do about that? Please get a better gate, punch the goat thief, or resolve your neighborly disputes locally.''


    ''No Mr. garden decor seller, we do not need more thingies. Yes yes yes we are quite sure. My father gifted mother a stupid crystal hanging bird once and it most likely costs more than all your wares. Talk to me maybe when you''re selling rare species of exotic herbs instead?''


    ''I am sorry Mr. salt smuggler. That your finest wares were caught and confiscated at certain trade ports. Please smuggle things more carefully from now on in your illegal business, or go find a new job, and we will pretend you were never here. Will keep a note on the salt situation in the markets though, have a tip for your troubles. ''


    Some people can be redirected, left to a guard and escorted to a troop''s center where someone can better help them with their issues. It''s very sad and unorganized how people seek help in the wrong places.


    But there''s just too much trash! Ugh gross.


    I even had the guards throw a few people into the extra extra dungeons. Not simply for old time''s sake to relish my power, but we really have some suspicious extra annoying folks.


    For one, anyone caught trying to sell shady makeup and ugly ''fashion'' to my mother is to be thrown into the dungeons! Effective immediately! All dangerous items confiscated, for research purposes.


    There was a lot of stranger and more concerning things. But who cares about that when beauty is on the line?!


    Except maybe that one random deranged citizen that claimed he was cursed with an indescribable bloody hunger for goats, to the point of eating all his own raw and moving on to his neighbors . I was a little concerned about him.


    Another redirection, to the troops. I hope they figure out what''s ailing him. If anything I think we helped with farmer stolen goat''s issues.


    We really need a better system. Just because my family name is Ventrella, doesn''t mean we can solve all your problems.


    But alas people still line up and go through the long tiresome process.


    None today! We had absolutely no one today. So peaceful. Not even the crying worrying architects!


    Though I''m pretty sure that''s because father took care of them.


    What that actually means can be...not thought about. Yes, let''s not think about it.


    Maybe he put them all the work on my public bath renovations? Oh ho ho! What good use and productivity! Yes yes yes that is spare hands and possible skilled labor. They only have so much time afterall.


    I wish I was there to oversee the bath reconstructions. I could make it even more marvelous with some maybe modern touristy ideas,


    But alas I am trapped here. Still very much stuck with the sticky mother. One who is still oddly mad at father for whatever reason it is this time. My Sherlock senses telling me it''s more than just about the work stress on either of their ends.


    Lover spats. How annoying.


    Especially when you know they''ll just makeup and be 100x as disgusting afterward.


    But for now, the faster they get it over with, the fast I can play- ahem I mean work. A public renovation project on this scale is quite important you know. Especially for my first time. The research will also be useful in case I ever want to open a ridiculously high prices spa and resort for myself. Oh the money I could rip off, ahem, earn rightfully from spoiled nobles rolling in riches.


    Thus I have also instructed Georgie, while I still could, to use that.


    Yes, that.


    The great secret. A secret suit I''ve been hiding for quite some time. A full, shall we say, modern men''s tailored suit.


    Honestly, I''d like more time to work on it, to get all the parts and pieces right. But the times call for it to be used.


    Without words, Georgie completely understood. The secret outfit. The irresistible to all women outfit.


    With that, there''s no way mother will be able to control herself, let alone remember the reason why she was mad in the first place. Perhaps, after she attacks and mauls father to death, they''ll be able to talk it out and properly communicate in a healthy way. But first, this!


    Now I just need to wait for Georgie to follow through.


    For today though, it isn''t so bad. Nice and peaceful. Sure the weather is a bit chilly for a picnic, let alone a dip and swim, but that''s what the hot springs and hot rocks are for.


    "And flip!" I instruct two of the maids.


    We''re making pancakes using the heat of nature! Cleaned properly of course. It''s a little slower of a process but it''s quite novel and fun. Especially if one tries to slow steam bake them up to some super fluffy levels.


    After the first pancake makes their perfect flip, a round of applause follows, including mother''s.


    "Oh how lovely!" mother claps.


    "Cake cake cake cake cake" Lilyanne paddles about, already well trained in waiting for my signal before snack time. Otherwise, she might not get any at all, or so I have taught. Often by eating all my snacks in front of her.


    You must train children early on.


    For mother though? Well it''s a little late for that.


    "Mother, no more sneaking whole honeycombs. It''s too much sweetness in one bite! And the honey bees need to store up for winter, or they won''t survive. You''ll eat hives of them to extinction" I scold her about her bad angry eating habits.


    It''s understandable for women to crave something sweet, especially during this time. However, I really didn''t see wrong with the delivery of whole honeycombs.


    It doesn''t matter if it comes with a pretty ribbon or gilded in gold even. If father sent it at this time, mother will angrily just down it all as if to prove a point.


    It can''t be helped if it''s already been harvested but really now, we can''t take the risk of overharvesting the honey crops or farmers. I''d rather we live with less sweetness, making it last, than to come back next spring to a sharp decline in the local honey bee population.


    I must make a mental note to send a financial precaution aid and incentive to all farmers that raise honey hives this season. More preventative measures is better, and cheapter, than dealing with the fall out after windter.


    Yes, I shall be a patron of all the deliciously sweet honey as well. I will save you my honey!


    "Ah, mama is sorry Rosa. Alright alright don''t be angry." mother coos and somewhat guilty laughs at being caught.


    "If you want sweets, we can make stuff like pancakes or custards and spread it out. It''s much healthier for you and you can eat more of it." I wave around the mixing spoon, mildly sweet red bean jam flinging out just a bit.


    Whoops, my bad.


    "Yes my dear, mam understand. Mama will listen to Rosa~" she wipes jam and batter from off my face with a dip of the hot spring water.


    Huh, when did that get on me? Ah, these childish limbs and their clumsiness.


    "Really? Will you really listen?" I pout at mother, recalling all the times that can prove otherwise.


    "Of course darling!"


    She''s only saying so because I am absolutely adorable in my little frilly apron. We''re making sweets outside today so I must be prepared. Being cute is just an extra bonus.


    Since my hair is back to being short, there''s not much need for a headband, or head covering, but we''re cooking today. My pixie cute is getting cuter by day, as I look less and less bald.


    I think this is a very strange and switched up ''cooking mama'' dress-up look. When I''m the child doing the cooking while my mother sits right there enjoying my struggle. But it really can''t be helped with parents like this.


    "Mother? You''re allowed to be mad, everyone does, but you can''t pout and ignore father like that. It isn''t like you and you''re making yourself sadder." I point my spoon of truth.


    Mother seems to deflate, and when she does one of the pancakes pops and wilts down with her sign.


    Oi oi oi watch it mother, not the pancakes! Oh, it is more serious than I thought.


    "He''s not a mind reader! Even if he knows you''re upset, he can''t do anything if you don''t see or talk back. Discuss your fighting and disagreements like good adults! You''re both too gross to mope around. Also, presents don''t fix anything but honey is a lot better than a bouquet of vegetables, right?" I wack around, trying and failing to save the pancakes.


    "Your papa is a meanie pretty face of mean. " mother pouts pettily, kicking the water.


    What a nice way of describing the man she married. I would certainly use harsher language choices but other is simply too weak around him, bleck. In fact, she''s grows mopier and mopier in thought at the mention of him.


    No good! My fluffy! Oh no my fluffy honey cakes. They pop one by one like a row of sad souffles, limp and soggy instead of the jiggly goodness they''re supposed to be. How?! How did this happen?!


    Oh woe is me.


    Good thing there''s enough batter to try again.


    "....I suppose...trying is all I can do. Even if I''m too clumsy." mother mopes, staring a little too intensely at her blurry reflection.


    "Love pancake. " Lilyanne partly hops out the water. It surprises mother, with her clinging on to mother''s leg, staining her rolled up skirts with the alkaline water.


    "Yes yes yes. Very good Lilyanne. But not just yet. Watch." I wave my sister, off giving her the halt and stay signal.


    The original first batch of pancakes are nt exactly ruined but not what epescted. It is with great shame then that not only do we have to try again, after all this time, but we need to do something about these not so fluffy ones.


    I wack a pancake. Changing to an even bigger and flatter spoon, and wack them around. Feeling them jiggle and flatten further all that once.


    "Flip. Flip and flatten." I instruct the maids on hot rock grilling duty, showing them the kiddy game version of what they''re supposed to do.


    "Pancakes! Smells so good Rosa!" Lillyanne cries and drools, even as mother picks her up and dries her off.


    "Yep yep, that''s right Lily. Even if they didn''t turn out the way I first planned, they''re still super yummy pancakes. Now look some more, we''re going to make them into something new!" I showcase to my little sister, teaching her valuable early lessons.


    Checking as the sides are browned, and whole thing stable, I have the maids slide out the done ones. Then get to work on construction.


    They''re not very big things, since I aimed for fluffy height rather than width or surface area. Smacking them flattened them out somewhat but they''re still a very good and workable size. But a size for what?


    For dorayaki of course!


    Heehee when life gives you popped pancakes, make dorayaki. Fresh warm pancake sandwiches!


    I was also maybe expecting this, give that I have already made these imitation red bead paste. The smell is a little off, but good enough!


    This one gets to be a classic red bean stuffed pancake, with just a bit of extra butter.


    This one gets whole strawberries and red bean, how pretty when sliced in half.


    This one gets honey whipped custard cream.


    Oh oh oh, this one can be chestnut filled. How fitting for the season.


    Even though they''re a little messed up, we have made some wonderfully delicious things out of them. They would taste good alone but why not put in a little bit more creativity and effort to make them extra tasty?


    "Pancake. Now." Lilyanne scrunches her nose at me from inside mother''s hold.


    "...."


    How rude.


    I sigh and make the stay motion. Slowly presenting my finished dishes even though no one appreciates how hard I worked to make them such a nice and pretty variety.


    Hot tea and perfectly not too sweet autumn snacks in this scenery can be enjoyed by just me then.


    "Wait, stay." I further instruct Lilyanne, who seems to be vibrating in place. Her eyes wide open, zoomed in on hyperfocus to the plate.


    Carefully taking a classic extra buttery one, I pull and split it in half, blowing at the fragrant steam that wafts out like a bomb.


    "Here!" I hand to her, my little sister gleefully grabbing and munching down on the fresh pancake snack.


    Mother stays oddly quiet the whole time, a little just as focused even if her eyes are a bit zoned out. As if thinking of something far away.


    Ah what an airheaded mother, can''t be helped.


    "Here mama." I rip my half once more till they''re nothing but quarters, handing her the other piece.


    I want to try all my fun dorayaki flavors and the next batch of hopefully successfully fluffy cakes. I just don''t want to get full too fast. That''s all. Small bites are best.


    Sitting down under on the warm funny rocks, under the pretty colored trees, blowing on tea and yummy snacks. Ahhh this is the life.


    "Delicious. It''s strange...warm and delicious. " mother nibbles lightly, all before throwing the entire thing into her mouth.


    "Right! Mother try this one next," I excitedly point to the next one I want to eat.


    She picks up bites right into my strawberry one, whole. Both Lilyanne and I cry out, feeling the same heartache.


    Wait, no that''s not fair. Mother, you have to share! Mother!?


    "Sweet. It''s sour and sweet, and also juicy? This one is also strangely red and delicious. " mother sniffs, getting emotional. Just enough to lower her hand for Lilyanne to jump and chomp.


    Whole.


    "Mmmmmm soooo yummy" Lilyyane puffs out hot air, her little cheeks stuffed.


    "Nooooooo my strawberry!" I feel myself wailing, blown away and crumpled like a dying red leaf.


    "This one is honey-sweet, so light. Not too much or too sweet, just right. So lovely." mother keep sniffing and stuffing her tearfully blinking face with another one.


    I think I lost her. I lost all my dorayaki pancake knock offs. My culinary genius is once again too much for this world. Not only that but I have broken mother to tears with it.


    Why oh why can''t I ever have anything right?


    "Here now. " mother rips the last one, smiling sadly as she finally remembers her daughters enough to offer bites.


    Bites of MY hard work.


    Okay and the maids too. Thank you, Noemi and Vedette. Your aid is still very important, keep watching and flipping those pancakes. Failed ones may continue to be smacked and turned into sandwiches.


    Wait, why are they all deflating!?!


    Why!? My fluffies! Nooooooo! I didn''t mean for them all the fail?!


    "It''s okay Rosalia, mama understands now. Oh ho....to think I need to be taught in such a manner by my own cute little daughters. " mother says in a way that sounds like she misunderstood something profoundly again.


    "Love pancakes!" Lilyanne cheers, cream and sweet paste sticking to her face.


    "Yes my little ducking, love is a lot like pancakes. " mother nods back.


    I don''t understand what she has now understood and I don''t want to know. I have more important things right at this moment.


    Like figuring out this pancake mix? Are we just going to have all dorayaki?! What about my other plans? Where''s Georgie on the status of my plan to get mother and father to make up already and stop keeping me from my renovation projects.


    So many things, so many little time, and so many failures.


    I''ll just go cry into another fresh stuffed pancake or something. Comfort me my sweets.


    "Rosa I got- Ahem. Pardon me, my lady, this servant is bringing in further supplies and requests from young Miss Rosalia. " Georgie bows right outside the natural screen, getting permission to enter with propriety and professionalism.


    Indeed he does roll in a cart with more pancake and dorayaki supplies, but I don''t understand his wink and smile. The giddy thumbs up as if he completed my instructions perfectly, setting off the plan.


    The suit.


    Is father getting changed? Is he already outside waiting to whoo mother off her feet? Feet that are still scandalously naked and dipped in this spring.


    Shouldn''t we all evacatate to give them their privacy?! I don''t want to stick around for that.


    "My lady. " Georgie presents, rolling over the cart and offering....a jar.


    A very big honey jar.


    Oh come on! Father, we tried this yesterday with diabetic failure! What?! Not to mention we need to stop wasting all the darn honey.


    But Georgie still shakes in something that resembles mania behind his professionalism, bowed and presenting the heavy glazed jar.


    "It''s not perfect...and definitely not what I intended.....but I suppose. " mother softens, blushing away shyly for a bit.


    Huh? I guess she''s in a much better mood today afterall. Maybe my plan isn''t even needed?


    But Georgie smiles once again, a little too wide, his excited glances at me showing something very very wrong.


    I just feel it.


    "Georgie, why are you shaking the jar so much. Georgie put it away, we don''t need that much honey. " I order slowly, observing every little clue. Trying to decipher my little assistant''s unspoken messages.


    "Shaking? Oh no. Ohhhh but my young lady, I only did juuuust as you instructed. I insist." Georgie oversteps in...everything. Smile really too wide, so much so he bites his lip to hardly contain himself.


    "How odd? Whatever is it now? " mother asks curiously.


    Giving in way to quickly, despite my bad feeling, mother reaches over the lift the lid.


    Only to drop ii directly onto a rock and into the springs with a terrifying crack. The air goes cold instantly, mother frozen as if winter has come shockingly early.


    "...." she stares inside the dark jar ominously, doing absolutely nothing for my terrible anxiety.


    One thing''s for sure, I don''t think that''s honey in there.


    The jar cracks, mother''s gone white fingers somehow cracking right through the rim! Ahhhhh!!!! What the hell?!


    "Sorry?! ...I''m sowry?" whimpers a soft and shakey little voice. One that automatically gets +300 cuteness points in mother''s books in how pathetic it sounds.


    There is no kyaaing, no screaming, and no death. For I think mother has gone brain dead from the frozen wide eyed expression on her face.


    Braindead or purely insane, acting on instinct.


    With uncalled for force, as if it wasn''t hard at all, she rips the earthen jar in half just as easily as it were a soft fluffy pancake.


    Amar yelps, crying from inside the broken ceramic and pieces blown away all around him. His fearful shivering and big fat cute tears fully in view.


    Made all the more devastating by what he''s wearing.


    "Cute mr bear!" Lilyanne points.


    From the round little ears, to the fluffy bunches of oversized sleeves and pant legs, even the round shaking little tail attached to the back of the onesie. Everything is amplified in extreme cuteness, so much so it''s officially broken mother if she wasn''t already. A tiny soft brown baby bear, or well a kiddy dressed up as one. An all in one little hooded bear onesie.


    God damn it Georgie! This was not the suit in progress I was referring to!


    "....Please don''t eat me?" he whimpers quietly, pleading.


    The knock off cartoon cutie bear, with a little white tummy to his warm honey brown onesie, holds his bunched up paws together. With his bear-themed motions, he makes as if praying, begs even, trembling himself adorably silly in mother''s lap.


    When he shakes that hard, the little fuzzy ears and tail do too.


    For a long time it feels as if nothing happens. Only this long tense staring, all focused on one too cute point.


    I smell burning. I think the pancakes are overdone.


    "KKKYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH HOW ARE YOU SO ADORABLE?!?!!? HOW IS IT POSSIBLE!?!! KYAAA KYAA KYAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!~" mother finally scream and storms, standing right up with the sacraficed child held high. She bounces and dances with the edges of her dress wet, barefoot through the gardens parklands.


    "Bear bear bear big bruder mr bear Lily want to play too!" Lilyanne chases after them, mother too busy frolicking in bliss to hear.


    I am still too much in shock, from the ridiculousness of this mistake and my own overwhelming genius. Knock off Kigurumi is too just, just too cute. The draft version is very much a success. Too much so.


    As I regain enough sense to cough at the burning scent, I see not only a shit grinning Georgia, looking as if he''s been K.O. punched in the face with cute, but that all the not so secret guard maids have been wiped out in some way.


    There are bloody handkerchiefs everywhere. Someone has fainted, blue in the face from the lack of screaming. Another person drowning, somehow fallen in the spring and they seem to not even care. Even the pancakes are dead. Absolutely ruined. Burned to a sad black crisp.


    This is why the power of knock off Kigurumi was not supposed to be seen. Not supposed to be released into the world.


    Oh god Georgie, what have you done?


    "I know they weren''t fully finished but we managed. I got Cass to help, and she''s not so bad when she''s not screaming murder trying to escape Alfonso, and oh my god we did it. We got them done. " Georgie dazedly coos in bliss, limp in the limbs with sparkling eyes.


    A clear sign of overdose, in cuteness.


    "Wait. Them?!" I feel my brain turning, beginning to work again despite the shock that is everyone''s baffling reactions.


    Georgie smiles down at me, his sanity clearly gone.


    I look over at the spinning frolicking monster that is my mother, brought back to life and then some. A cute little towel called my sister desperately hopping after her.


    In the middle of that disaster, a too simple but too cute bear clad Amar definitely still has tears in his eyes. But in them is something more, the tragic green of betrayal. He looks over to Georgie as if begging for his life. As if asking ''why?''.


    But more importantly, he looks to me with a cry. Knowing that I can''t save him, not against that.


    "Run. " he mouths, before getting spun and snuggled to death in the hug that is my mother. Only and little fluffy tail, left of him.


    "Run?" I gulp, not daring to make any sudden movements.


    Georgie pounces and I set off screaming for my own life.


    "Catch the young miss! Our lives and promotions depend on it!" Georgie orders out.


    No no nooooooooooo! Bad Georgie! I have spoiled you! Noooooooo!


    I wish I could say I put up a good fight. A real chase. But mother''s maids are strangely fast, strong and eerily motivated. The glints in their frightening eyes, the blood that remains dripped from their beings.


    Waaah! Nooooo! Don''t eat me! Take the pancakes! They''re tastier!


    "You''re filthy my young miss. Oh my, we must get you changed at once." Georgie comes up to me as if possessed, an even smaller and fuzzier bear onsie in his hands.


    Oh the horror. Oh that one doesn''t even have proper feet holes. It''s a completely covered and emroidered baby onesie! Oh no! Anything but that!


    "I-it''s done! I-it''s d-done!" Abbey comes running into the scene, out of breath.


    "Abbey!" I cry for rescue.


    But it''s to no avail. Georgie has her completely under his control. Curses! Teenagers!


    "Good job, " he praises her, then indicates to help him pin me down and dress me up.


    No! My freedom! My feet! Nooooooooo!


    I swear this wouldn''t happen if father was around, or if he didn''t make mother mad in the first place. Usually, it''s grampa''s fault, but today I blame father! You horrible nerd. Get over work already and come save your family!


    Mother might really be stolen, or well, steal away someone else at this point. Child abduction is bad.


    Oh when or when will this surreal torture end?!


    A wall goes crashing.


    "I heard screaming! So much screaming! Well never fear, because Lukas is here!!!" screams out the tiny ''hero''.


    Clad in the vanilla polar bear version of a kiddy onesies. Only with pink strawbery ears, and just as round and chubby. Just the same as the rest of us beary not ok victims.


    I must say Georgie and Cass did a pretty good job of getting my top-secret draft designs to this state. But like this, I can''t appreciate a thing. No matter how heart shockingly cute it is.


    "KYYYYAAAAAAA! oH OH OH ~" Mother has lost the cognitive function to speak proper words. Rushing up with sparkly eyes and a dizzy and dying original brown bear in her arms.


    "Stop! That''s mine!" Lukas points and attempts to stick out his chest in a brave manner.


    In that suit though, it just makes his white fuzzy tummy look all the rounder and squishier. Tee buttons do not help.


    "Too cuuuuuuute!" Mother attacks.


    "Put him down, that''s my fluffy. " Lukas sacrifices himself in the strangest way, bent on saving Amar.


    "Ohhhh? Is he now?!" mother plays along, all hearts and flowers floating everywhere.


    After snuggling Lukas in a death grip, she gently places them both down. Giving a dizzy Amar straight into Lukas'' impatiently waiting arms.


    "Kyaaaaaa!" mother near passes out at the sight.


    One cute little bear holding the other one like a life sized doll. Too precious for words, no wonder mother has lost all cognitive functions.


    "And that one too! Gimmie." Lukas stomps his way over, his little tail wagging in determined cuteness.


    I''m sure there are even more bloodshed and death going on behind me. But I''m too much in shock at getting handed straight over.


    Somehow Lukas now has not one but two kids in his arms. An awkward balance, but the tiniest polar bear throws us over his shoulders and I even feel a pat on my poor butt.


    I''d scream, but I think I''m screamed out.


    "Is it over? Can we go now?" Amar whimpers, his hood and ears drooping down sadly. The flush on his cheeks, even thrown over Lukas shoulder, causing even more collateral damage among any witnesses.


    "So cute. Too deadly. What have I done?" I cry over each of Lukas''s stubby steps, bouncing Amar and I up and down as he walks.


    "I''m saving everyone! You''re my floofies and that''s it. Of course, my floofies are cute! Super duper uber cute." Lukas tries his very best to run off with us and our dead weights, despite all the awwing that follows.


    Why do I even bother planning anything? Nothing ever goes right. And now too many people will be dead, of cute and bear-shaped onesies.


    Whatever will become of me and this life? It''s already too...messed up.


    Well...there''s nothing really to do but to see how it goes. Hope it''s a good one. At least we''re cute.


    "Cheep!"


    Lukas halts, jumping and shaking us in a way that starts to get me motion sick. Over his shoulder, Amar and I wiggle uselessly, making panicked eye contact in our new escape plan.


    "Cheep!" comes the strange sound again, oddly familiar and high pitched.


    "No. No no nooooo!" Lukas backs away not so gently, knocking us potato sacks of bears together messily.


    "Cheep cheep Lily play too!"


    "Ahhhhhh b-bbbad chicken! Bad bad stinky! Bad stinky chicken!" Lukas starts booking it, and I feel myself almost fly off in not for Amar grabbing my side from where he lays and Lukas still holding us by our butts and little tails.


    "Cheep cheep Lily get you! Hee hee wheeee! " my sister follows after, flapping the cape to her little yellow chick costume.


    Hey, when did they get her into that? Why does it suit her oddly well? Oh god did Lilyanne get faster? Why does she resemble a darn raptor chicken so much like that?!


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH"


    At this rate, I don''t even know who''s screaming anymore. Maybe all of us. Yeah, let''s just go with that.


    From the sideline, mother swoons, watching us with her maids all fanning themselves and cleaning up any strangely occurring blood splatter.


    "Darling is right, children are truly a handful....but they''re just so cute!!! " mother giggles, waving to our horror chase in her happy airheaded way while munching on my pancake sandwiches.


    I certainly am. A handful and very cute.


    At least mother is in a better mood. Father better thank me greatly, in funds, later.


    Now then. Someone get me off this ride! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Stop! Stop this at once! Lilyanne no! Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!

 141 Wrong suit but its all good

    The cutest. How could anyone argue against that against this face? Against these stupid little paws, that trap my limbs and digits annoyingly?


    Ultimately it''s my fault, yes. I can admit that much. But I am the most adorable.


    Say it.


    Say it!!!


    "Noooo! I''m the cutest!" Lukas stubbornly refuses to admit the truth.


    "I''m tinier, smaller and delicate!" I growl.


    "I''m softer and squisher. Squish squish!" he molds his own face, vanilla creme fur complimenting the pink of his admittedly very fleshy cheeks. It''s both at once incredibly stupid looking as it is adorable.


    "Your squish may be cute now but it can''t last! Give it a few years. I, however, shall stay...pretty and cute." I haughtily huff, for I know my own face and the future quite well.


    As Lilyanne''s twin, aren''t I physically just as lovely and pleasing to the eye? At least on the surface level. I know my own worth and superiority here. I''m an absolute doll ok?!


    I admit it''s very petty to be getting into this argument with Lukas. My own minion, who is not the brightest child.


    Yet there is just something so irritating about this child?!


    "I''m cuter," he says in absolute certainty, holding his little nose up high.


    That perfect little nose. The only thing he got exactly from Gable. I feel my irritation spike with a growl.


    "I''m cutest and everyone here knows so." I wave, showcasing the entirety of employees, hired hands, and troop ''prisoners'' hard at work on the bath renovation project.


    Or well they should be. If only they didn''t get so distracted cooing, awwing and staring.


    I''m finally out and can see to things!


    But for some odd reason, the price to pay was to stay in these little bear onesies.


    "Nuh uh, I''m the cutest and everyone''s too scared of your ma and da so they gotta say you''re cutest. But everyone knows I''m cutest!" Lukas distracts me again from being the overbearing overlord mini boss that I am.


    See. See, he''s just so frustrating! He never just leaves it. Nooooo he had to be the best and cutest. When it''s clear that I, with Lilyanne''s face, am the cutest bear.


    It doesn''t even matter what it is! Lukas just has to be the best. Where does he get this arrogance from?!


    "Amar! I''m the cutest and nicest and best. Not stinky yelly weak Rosa, right?" ice bear rolls over the short distance to the sleepiest brown bear.


    "Lukas don''t you dare. Stop acting cute. Hey hey hey Amar, that''s not right and you can''t lie. Aren''t I the cutest?" I hastily crawl over to interfere with this unfair evaluation.


    "I''m just as cute as those razor cubs we saw before. Right?! Rawrr rawr ahhhh!" Lukas rolls about shamelessly, displaying his tummy in an imitation of any wildlife he''s seen before.


    Oh that''s bad, so bad. I think I hear some screaming and another accident down below.


    Amar starts to nod, his loose hood and little bear ears bobbing with his head.


    "But I''m a smaller and cuter bear cub. Look I''m honey themed. Don''t you like honey? So sweet and yummy? So cute, right?" I show off my paws, patting them over Amar''s face and side.


    He also nods to that, but slightly faster.


    Aha! I''m winning.


    "No you''re not! Grrrr Amar! I''m the cutest, feels. I''m so soft and floofies." Lukas comes over the brown bear''s other side, sticking cuddling his whole body shamelessly.


    Oh ho ho, it is on.


    I should be working at observing and shouting orders from my high roost. For this is a viewing platform of power and not say, a kiddy prison.


    From here I can watch as plumbers undo walls and work at pipes, as cleaners deep clean those tiles and manmade tubs, or as artists and movers create more dust clouds with the statues and decor. So many things to waste my time on.


    And I have resorted to being petty.


    "Not true. Hey Amar, am I the cutest? Saaaay it, I''m cutest. If you say it right now, I might even call you big brother?" I cling on, pawing. Going back between glaring at Lukas, who dares fight me for the title of cutest, and acting purely adorable.


    "...Cute!" Amar stills but then starts to nod with much more enthusiasm.


    Unlike Lukas, I do not have his oddly inflated sense of pride. Shame yes. But not pride ahahaha! For I am younger! Bwhahaha! Take that!


    "That''s cheating!" Lukas gasps, shaking himself pink with...little tears!


    "Cute!" Amar responds, just as well.


    Hey wait. Now that''s cheating!


    "But I''m the cutest. Hey hey, aren''t I?" I tug and cry back.


    How the hell am battling neck and neck against this brat? With another brat!?


    "No me!" Lukas whimpers, looking positively pathetic.


    "Big brother? Call me cute?"I blink up, pouting my foolproof techniques.


    "Cheater, grrrr I''m biggest brother and the cutest and the bestest! " Lukas nuzzles up using everything he was blessed with.


    "No you fool, that not even a word. It''s me." two can play at that game, and I up my cuteness snuggles.


    "Noooo me!" Lukas cries.


    "...." Amar headbutts us.


    Both. Then right damn in the middle. Ack, pain!


    "...Cute." Amar rubs his head in between us, effectively ending the fight with pain and his fake fuzzy ears.


    "That''s not an answer," I complain, bringing my hands up to rub my head.


    "Yeah!" Lukas cries, one spot on his forehead growing pinker.


    "Good. Very very cute. " Amar pulls back from his nuzzles and smiles.


    He has a rather small grin, more modest and subdued compared to most energetic children at this age. Yet there''s something even more diabetically cute about it, made deadly with the bear hoodie.


    When that little smile grows, with just a hint of teeth gaps still growing in, I feel myself seeing things. All soft sunshine and pastel rainbows and sleepy puppy dogs with those ridiculously cute sad puppy dog eyes, and ow ow ow aaaahhhhh!


    "Aaaahhhhh!" Lukas screams along, rubbing his eyes.


    We give! We give up! We''ll be good and stop arguing. Just stop that face. Put it away! Ahhhh! Stop being so cute!


    "Good girl. Good boy. Cute cute cute. " Amar continues grinning, patting us softly through our pain.


    "Waaah!" Lukas screams, growing pink in pain and shame. The larger boy clutching me in his attempts to back away and I realize I too am equally shaking into Lukas''s cream bear suit.


    No, get back. Get this overdose of cuteness back!


    A little sleepy, but very happily, Amar topples over to hug us both and we die.


    My eyes! They sting. The bear suits are too much. Ahhh too much cuteness to bear! I mean bare. Oh same thing. Too dangerous! Too diabetically dangerous!


    Time and work particular flows very differently with too cute kiddies in the picture.


    For one, no one here notices that there are two terrible servents clutching each other. Watching and commenting over the whole thing. Or well if we did, we''d really rather not.


    "We did so good." Georgie weakly squeaks, tightly hand in hand with a very unlikely person.


    "It was worth the blood." Cass agrees face shocked still but equally clutching her bandaged white fingers.


    Not that it matter since both she and Georgie seem to have gone white in the knuckles, staring at us kids in a very frightening way. They clutch at each other like emotional old ladies watching their shows. Some bad soap operas. Involving adorable little children they may have pinched and tortured into bear sweaters. Only these ''sweaters'' extended to our whole bodies!


    My poor feet. I can''t run anywhere like this for risk of ruining my cute little paws.


    "So. Worth it. " Georgie may have already been emotionally crying, tear stains rewetting themselves.


    "Such torture. " Cass covers her emotions with an embroidered handkerchief.


    "Have you ever seen anything so.... " Georgie cries, not even able to finish his sentence.


    "....Once we hollowed out a large watermelon and put the lady''s baby into it. When he started to try eating the melon, we called an engraver in immediately." Cass responds, eyes dead and still clutching on to both their handkerchiefs.


    "An engraver?! Call for one at once! The commissions! Did you get that!? Are you drawing everything down properly?!" Georgie screams down to the artists already hard at work sketching on the sidelines.


    Some with rapid insane movements, scribbling on to their boards and papers. Some not so...moving at all in their wet eyes staring.


    I''m feeling very objectified right now.


    "Not cute. " Amar squints through slightly sleepy eyes, doing his cute kiddy version of glaring.


    It is very ineffective. Unless the effect was mean to be bear shaped arrows of cute straight through people''s knees. Georgie is down!


    Cass is still holding up but she''s left carrying both their weights while at least two still alive artists seem to have flipped their pages, energetically drawing a whole new subject.


    Behind them all, my little maid nervously plays with her own apron.


    "U-um...G-Georgie...um- is that e-enough yet? H--hhow about si-sitting down?" Abbey sounds a bit fearful, yet reasonably concerned for his critical condition of squealing and swooning.


    "You lazy butts, draw faster! Faster! Get it down! Ah, oh Abbey haha don''t mind me. Sorry for scaring you....did you all get that! Did you get that expression?! Cass do it again, make him make that face again! Oh I can''t with those eyes. " Georgie seems to go back and forth between life and insanity.


    "...Watermelon. " Cass says with an eerie expression. Still staring intensely into the kiddy pen.


    She is also still carrying a limp Georgie in her arms as he points about, giving energetic orders.


    "Georgie? Why?" Amar blinks up, still not understanding nor forgiving my little assistant for all of...this.


    Oh the curse of cuteness.


    "That''s it!" Georgie swoons, one leg kicking out dramatically, luckily already steady into someone''s arms.


    Cass not only holds him steady in her taller frame but uses him as a stress ball for all the cute chaos she''s witnessing.


    Abbey sighs.


    I think I can feel Abbey''s little emerging teenaged heart cool and harden. She looks at Georgie as he is in the moment, and reality, for a very long time. All until sighing to herself with a small smile and the resignation of her short but beautiful crush.


    Ah the teenaged heart. So finicky.


    It is good though that I get the return of my servant and not a lovelorn young girl.


    As my only good and reasonable servant, she back gets back to work with the kiddy basket and unpacking our lunches.


    "My y-young miss and all t-the creations are s-splendid. " she praises, laying out the rest of the picnic spread in our comfy kiddy pen


    The pen on the highly viewable platform that we must stay in at all times or else it''s pack back home time.


    Definitely a powerful watchtower and not a kiddy prison.


    "Abbey you''re ok. But everyone''s so loud and weird," Lukas says, not feeling a hint of hypocrisy.


    He does however cling even harder to Amar and I when the pen fully opens. Not particularly when Abbey works her way through but at any movement of Georgie or Cass. Full distrusts, maybe bear suit related.


    "Another one! Get that pose too! With the butt and tail!" Georgie demands of the artists.


    I swear that''s not the artists were hired for. Why are they aimed at us and not their draft work?!


    I think Georgie is enjoying this situation, and these costumes, a little too much.


    Summertime boot camp was not enough. This assistant really is too arrogant! Just who does he think he is? Some face slapping, bear dressing, maid seducing baby butler?!


    "Your duty has a very interesting mouth." Cass looks down at him, dropping him like trash when she recovers from the cute attack.


    "Ooompf, ouch. Uh, you all don''t have to draw that part. In fact, focus on the nicer cuter bear. Where''s the engraver?! " Georgie instructs from his heap on the floor.


    " Excuse you, I''m the cutest. Georgie. That''s enough. Abbey can take it from here. Not like we can go anywhere..." I survey the work stations and people below.


    Design-wise there''s a lot that can be improved. But not only do we have time constraints, but the kind of things that I may like would also be too strange and foreign for the public to accept. They''re better off saved for any future private spas I may set up aimed at the wealthy and high class.


    For a public renovation project, a donation even, like this it''s better to keep the majority of things more or less the same.


    The most important thing would be the quality of the water and its access of flow. As well as cleanliness standards.


    One of the biggest flaws of the public baths is how some pools may have piping to lead water in, but not the proper drains to circulate or let water back out. Understandably these baths are quite old, built in a time far before my own grandfather. It''s great that plumbing actually exists, but definitely not up to standard nor safe.


    It''s very different in a natural hot spring, connected and filtered in nature.


    From my own modern common sense, it''s utterly unsanitary. Closed spaces. Wet moist climate. In the worst-case scenario, a lot of people could easily get ill for many things. From one infected person, coming in contact with these stagnant pools, to just plain bathroom mold.


    So it''s time for that overhaul maintenance update, modernization, and deep cleaning while this place is closed down.


    All the sculptors and artists are here, of course, to leave a wonderful public image of beauty and grandeur since this is my family''s donation.


    That and to fix up all the ugly cracks. Either from use over the years or something our own builders uh, don''t have time to cover quite up or replace. Everyone likes beautiful things. Yes, make it all pretty and impressive looking.


    No one needs to know about all the things accidentally broken. We''re working with a lot of stone here, they''re heavy.


    It''s more much-needed maintenance work and if need be, replacement parts, rather than anything new. Besides maybe a few pretty statues and fountain heads.


    The only things that are really mine are the addition of two new spaces.


    Clothing required common space for one. Somewhere that families and people can congregate in here comfortably, warm and dry, and without any of the naked business. The plan is pretty simple. Just a few of those shared lobbies, with heated stone floors. More things can be added on as the owners see fit, but it should be pretty comfortable like that. Much like certain spas I''ve visited before in the modern world.


    Though the term visiting should be used loosely. Korean spas can be fun but ow ow ow my skin. The Parks really have no mercy. Just the memory has me shaking.


    The second new space I''m planning and donating is a lost children center. Though I''m sure it will also be used for lost grannies and grandpas. It''s just too easy to get lost in here! Have some organization and better safety centers.


    Now they''ll not only have safer easier mixed areas with the heated lobbies but a ''lost'' center for kiddies, or crazy grampas, to locate and wait for their parents to find them.


    How responsible.


    Please don''t lose your child or senile grandparent in the public baths. But in case you do, please try and locate them at the lost center. Don''t forget to thank my family name, and me, when you do.


    Oh hoho, I may be a villain but none of the commoners outside need to know that. Yes, what a villainy plan. Fall under the false sense of goodwill I''m imposing my power on.


    Maybe add a cafe in later? What happens when people get hungry? Such a lost money opportunity there, but oh well. Not my business after this.


    "Continue on with the maintenance. In fact, Georgie. I want you to head the lunch line and pass out the work meals. After all, we can''t have anyone complain that the Ventrellas are abusing them, even if they''re just our own troops working off dungeon time. Don''t forget the soap. Can''t have anyone falling sick here just because they''re filthy. Go now. " I order, waving Georgie off.


    "But-" my own assistant looks forlorn as if he can''t bear to pull his eyes away from our cozy corner and enter the gross world of work below.


    "Take the artists with you," I demand, my every movement getting drawn without my active approval.


    Sheesh. What are they going to do with that? Keep it as my blackmail material. Urg, gross.


    "Oh oh oh I know! Are they drawing the awesome me?! I gotta be more hero!" Lukas makes to stand, huffing his little arms and chest out.


    "Wrong way. They''re drawing your butt and tail. " I inform the dumb but cute child.


    "Like this?!" Lukas starts rolling himself into a little ball.


    I facepalm at his choice of poses despite Amar''s little cheers and praises of "also cute!". No stop encouraging him like that!


    "No! Oh never mind. Georgie! Go now and take them all with you, they''re creeping me out!"


    "It''s all very professional, even Alfonso approves." Georgie whines, signaling to the artists to hurry up because their time was running out. It was only a matter of when my temper snapped.


    "I lost Noodle?" Amar brings up out of nowhere, tilting his head around as he loses both his teddy bears to pet and pat.


    He blinks like he''s the one that''s a little lost, looking up over directly at Cass from over the pen.


    "You did not lose the black cobra. " she responds blankly to the boy.


    "I lost Noodle. " Amar repeats, much more sure of himself.


    "You set it free to play in the sewers right when we got here. I saw you. " Cass puts away her handkerchief with a dry-eyed glare.


    "I lost Noodle in the sewers and it''s lunchtime. Uh oh. Hope she doesn''t get too hungry? Aren''t lots of people working down there? " Amar paws to himself, as if truly worried for his hungry pet.


    "Fine. Fine, I am going and getting the wretched pet snake. Do not cause the nervous little girl trouble and do not leave this place with your little friends. Do not play hide and seek, again. Understand? Come along chef, we are no longer welcome by the cubs. " Cass instructs over the pen, before picking up a tearful Georgie by the back of his shirt.


    "But the baby bears! We spent too long on them! We can''t just leave, oh and I haven''t even gotten the engravers to work on -" the assistant sounds besides himself.


    Now that I''m less creeped out and can look closer, he seems very sleep deprived. His flawless skin is a bit dull. There are hints of dark circles on both Georgie and Cass, who, by the way , have bonded ridiculously fast.


    As if they''ve spilled blood together, maybe their own, from pricked fingers in makings all these onesies. Turning them insane from sleep deprivation and blood loss.


    I never should have trusted Georgie with my drafts.


    "Do not fret, I had the clay sculptor make tiny models earlier," Cass informs him professionally, still not blinking or looking away, even as they grow smaller and smaller.


    "Oh. Oh, you are good!" Georgie gasps.


    "I know. " she still glares, particularly at one little brown bear.


    "I want 300 of them! Wait, how many different models? How many?!" Georgie fusses, too ready to shop.


    I suddenly don''t like those two being anywhere around each other.


    They don''t seem to be good influences on one another. Too much of this very specific sort of insanity around cuteness and onesies. I sense much suffering for any child in their grasps.


    I think the others agree with me.


    With the crazies gone Abbey pours out our chilled milkies. For tea isn''t really a tasty option when you''re as young as me or the boys. All while sighing for a love lost to the natural flow of time.


    "You''ll get over it ," I pat at her arm.


    "He''s like a super sidekick in training and cooks really yummy, but too mean and yelly. You don''t want that for a mate! Hey hey hey what time do girls go hunting for mates? " Lukas pops into her lap to grab a bottle of milk.


    "Girls do not!" I wack the strange child before resuming my comforting of my little maid.


    Awww they just grow up so fast.


    "....my y-yyoung miss.....e-everyone." Abbey goes between pale to red in her shock and embarrassment.


    But her crush is just so obvious that even all the kids know. How adorably embarrassing oh ho ho.


    "What''s for lunch?" Amar sniffs and holds himself back, rumbly in the tummy. A growl that he can''t control sounding out from the white belly of his suit.


    "Yeah! Food! Is there meat? I smell only a little meat inside that pie. Meat? What about bacon? You should eat lots more Abbey, that will make you feel better!" Lukas holds out his hands.


    "Almond pudding, fruit," Amar sniffs again, getting into dangerous territory.


    " ...and honey pancakes." instantly Amar''s little head disappears into one of the baskets, with nothing but a fuzzy tail on his small butt sticking out.


    "Get out of the desserts Amar! Eat properly, not just sweets!" I instantly make to pull at him.


    "Can we have bacon pancakes?!" Lukas asks.


    "None of you get pancakes without eating your vegetables. Amar, no not the dorayaki! Noooooo! Stop eating them, not my honey cakes! Why do you always sniff out my stuff?! " I keeping pulling at Amar''s legs and tail with determined strength.


    Definitely not crying. Just a little sniffle.


    Get out already!


    The noise, and my efforts, get Amar to stop wiggling just enough for me to cram myself in and kick him out the basket. But with him, and his sticky thieving fingers goes my honey pancakes!


    "Here. It''s sweet and yummy." the sweets thief presents to my flustered maid.


    A little bear with a stack of sandwiched pancakes. Another one in her lap, chugging down milk as creamy white as his fur. It''s a scene right out of a storybook.


    Against the powers of cute, cute, and hungry, Abbey''s sighs turn to true acceptance and laughter. Not all questioning how we all know, it''s just that easy.


    Which is wonderful and all but please, feed us properly before it all goes to hell.


    "Ahhhhh! There''s a snake down here! Big snake! Mutherkrugersnkfasfjslkdfhw snake!!!!" someone screams from down below.


    Another person or two seem to fall from the scaffolding of the roof near us, blood-stained handkerchiefs gently floating with them. Somewhere in the echoing distance, Georgie is screaming something about stews and colors and melons.


    It already has gone to hell, but that''s a problem for everyone outside the kiddy pen.


    Pffft that''s what you all get for locking us, me, up in here.


    Abbey finally slices the warm savory pie, the main course, and the exploding aroma of herbed and creamed chicken distracts us all. We then have a lovely and peaceful picnic lunch, even if I have to sit inside the dessert basket to defend the rest of the sweets before it''s time.


    There are of course no leftovers.


    ----------------------


    ----------


    ---


    Hey uh, not to be rude. But...does Georgie sleep anymore?


    Also, can I get out of this thing already?


    Somehow we''ve been forced to wear these bear suits for a very long time. These onesies have turned into our all day and all night outfits or something. Sure they''re comfortable but are we really wearing nothing but onesies now?


    "It fits! It fits!!!" Georgie laughs in glee, looking ever the worse.


    His eye bags are even darker yet there is a gleam of pure joy and insanity in them


    At the changing station is Lukas. Free from his stinky polar bear prison to not only bathe and wash up, but to change into a new skin prison.


    "I''m awesome. " he wiggles his fuzzy blue legs, checking out his new much longer tail after Georgie plops him up and over. Every button perfectly in place.


    "He''s a dog." I deadpan from my spot.


    "I''m a wolf!" Lukas wags in his new suit.


    "A fake puppy. Georgie where are you even pulling out all of these? Have you slept at all? I get that you like them but..." I turn and am beginning to fear for my assistant.


    "Why of course, Rosa. Now it''s your turn~" Georgie says cheerfully. Too cheerfully.


    I don''t believe him.


    Especially when he pulls out a little cat-eared onesie, complete with a tail...or tails? And a collared bell. Oh god, it has paws. The bell actually jingles! Cute and terrifying!


    I would struggle and scream more, but at this point, looking at my assistant is just sad.


    What has become of you, Georgie? Is cuteness a deadly drug? Is that what happened? Have you gone off the far end?


    Oh all my drafted projects to be spearheaded into creation, I did not think animal onesies would be the top contender. I regret it, for it is clear now that the world is far from ready. Just look at what it has done to Georgie!?


    "It''s so perfect, ahhhhh!!!" he cries, buttoning me up and playing with my new ears.


    Cuteness may run the world but this is borderline evil ruling the world. Georgie, please come back to your senses. Georgie, please go to sleep. This is not the kind of teenaged rebellion I was expecting at all. He''s so hyped up?!


    "Go on! Be cute! But don''t fight...like cat and dog!" he cracks himself up with his own bad joke, placing Lukas and I down.


    It''s bad enough that both of us can''t really say a thing. We have no idea how to react to an absolutely cracked and insane Georgie.


    "I think he broke! " Lukas turns to me.


    "Uh huh, it''s really out of character." I nod, placing all the circumstantial clues together.


    Do you know what Georgie''s current state really reminds me of? A teenager hyped up on coffee and energy drinks. Something I admittedly had too much first-hand experience in. Ahahah I miss coffee.


    Only with so self-control or self-awareness. As if he has just tried it for the first time and gone haywire.


    "Dancing goat berries." says the fox.


    "Ack when did you get there?!! Wait, Amar stop doing that, it''s scary! Oh you get to be a gold fox? With very big ears? Oh, Georgie doesn''t sleep at all anymore, these are ridiculously cute. "


    "...Sorry?"


    The oversized fox ears are very cute and graspable. Very soft to the touch too. Amar nods in sleepy comprehension, getting pulled from the front by my ear tugging and the another by Lukas playing with his ''floofie'' tail.


    In fact, all our new onesies come not only with a color change but longer ears and tails.


    Was he saying something? About berries?


    More importantly, I would like to complain that both boys have fluffier tails than mine. Given they are taller and can drag them around more, but still. The formal complaint here. Also, none of them have bell collars!


    "How are you so cute without doing anything? How?!" Georgie cries a lot too overdramatically, clutching his heart.


    I know we''re adorable, but not to this extent of insanity? Hey is his heartbeat ok? I think I can hear it?


    "No more dancing berries for you. " Amar nods to himself as if making a mental note of it, looking up at my squealing assistant.


    "First sleepy caramels?! What did you give him now?" I tug, the fluffy cloth pulling his head down to me.


    "Not me. " Amar quietly defends himself from the accusations, though unable to defend his butt from Lukas''s sparkly-eyed tail grabbing. The little blue wolf rubbing his squishy face into the fluffy tail as if it here an ultimate hugging pillow.


    It is very soft looking. Hey move over, I wanna test it out too.


    "Sooooo cute!!!! Ack-"


    Mid fanboying, Georgie goes still with a yelp of pain. As if someone had finally turned the off button on the Georgie operating system.


    "That will be quite enough." Alfonso snaps back on his glove.


    With it, and a subtle motion of his fingers, two secret guards drop from the ceiling. In not so secret motions, they quickly lift and carry off an unconscious and snoozing Georgie. Perhaps back to bed? Or maybe the sickbay? Hopefully not the dungeons.


    "It is this servent''s fault. This one did not realize he would consume so many dried dancing berries when he had no tolerance for them." Cass apologies from the side, standing and bowing low.


    "Told you it wasn''t me. " Amar pulls back his own oversized fox ears, petting them as if they hurt.


    There there, don''t be mad. Good minion, cute minion, now tell me more about these berries? I''ll even let you play with ears? Come on. How can you resist this cuteness that is me!?


    Also, someone please get Lukas off my butt and tails. We need a great talk about personal space and getting permission with this kid. But why do I hear more jingling? Oh god is there a bell and ribbon on there too?!


    My butt jingles. God damn it.


    "Tis my own lacking for a situation like this to even occur in the first place. I was too focused on the results. You are partly excused for your merits alone. " Alfonso accepts the woman''s apology along with a very pink folded bundle.


    So very pastel pink. Too big to be anything in my or any of the boy''s size. I don''t trust it.


    "Don''t. " Amar whispers to me suspiciously.


    "Look look, it has the floofiest long tail!" Lukas whisper shouts on my other side.


    "What that?" I point up and ask directly.


    At that moment do the adults even bother looking down at us little fake animals. The amount of suffering we have gone through high and intense. I haven''t worn anything resembling normal clothes in nearly three days. Just bears and this.


    Alfonso stares down, contemplating with a gloved hand, before turning back to Cass with an order.


    "You must take them out to safety. Before it''s too late. Fail it and it shall be back the mines and quests, which would be an incredible waste of your detailed skills, is it not?" he says lowly.


    Um...excuse me. What?!


    "This servent thanks your immense graciousness and shall do what needs to be done." Cass curtsies and bows, her one thick plaited braid falling long over her shoulder.


    Without her typical hairstyle or foreign clothes, she blends in a lot more. Just another person in the crowds of a well-traveled town.


    "You may take young Abigail with you, use her as you see fit. A signal shall be sent when it''s safe to return or if further relocation is needed." Alfonso hands her a modest sun hat, a fund purse, and a sturdy sort of briefcase, as if ready for a top-secret mission.


    "I like top secret missions. " Lukas nods excitedly.


    Is anyone ready to tell me what''s going on yet?!


    Before another word can leave anyone''s mouth, off goes an extremely loud gunshot. Say a rifle gun version, perhaps the kind used by the extremely rich for hunting. Followed by a woman, who sounds suspiciously exactly like my mother, screaming.


    "Darling no! Oh put that nasty violent thing away! " mother cries in anger.


    "Perfectly normal at this time of year my love. So many horrible pests, prime fox season really." father sounds disappointed in a false shot, prowling the halls.


    "Oh, you! That sweet dear is not a real animal, oh you stop that." mother echoes after him.


    "You love coats and scarves, shall I carve you the fur for another? The hounds, why are they all so useless? Should I throw them all to the dungeons for retraining? Now then...l''ll stop just as soon as I bag that blasted desert fox." father ponders in disciplining the guards.


    "Of all the things, just when you get back? What am I? A paperweight on your desk? Oh, and don''t you dare!" their voices sound to be growing further away. As if following another, possibly false and baited, trail.


    It appears father is back!


    Oh goodie, I have much to discuss with him regarding my homework at the baths. From workers to sewer systems, and to laugh at stupid artists who messed up this one statue so it looks more like a potato head. Speaking of potatoes I wonder if he brought me any fresh produce or gifts from wherever it was that he visited. It''s only right.


    So much I unfortunately still need the nerd to do and work.


    "Go now. And remember, our young miss is the first priority above all. " Alfonso nods over at Cass, opening the window.


    "Whooopeee! Gable never lets me jump out the window." Lukas goes running out.


    Only to back track a second too late as if he forgot to drag us along with him. Too bad he goes falling. Bye Lukas.


    "Where are we going? Why is my father running around with a hunting rifle instead of working or dealing with his own marriage? Am I going to get any work done around here? Am I being kidnapped again?" I respond to Cass lifting me up in her arm as she handles the case.


    "Apologies my young miss. Your honorable Lord father and the lady require a bit of time to themselves. Even your younger sister had her arrangements transferred with your grandfather. Have fun around the town, my young miss Rosalia. " Alfonso bows to my demands.


    Oh, it really can''t be helped. Couples have it hard with kids around, even the gross ones.


    "Bye bye, sorry for causing so much trouble. " Amar holds his hands together as he patters over to say his byes to Alfonso, looking down shy.


    "...Just don''t get caught anymore now. By anyone else. You are very small, with very little meat on your bones. " Alfonso pats his head, pushing him lightly along.


    Amar pouts a little, face growing a tad warm, but nods and pitter patters himself over to Cass as directed. Waving goodbye with small hands behind her skirt.


    "Hey hurry up slow babies, even Abbey is waiting." From the windowsill, Lukas pops up with his wolf ears first. He has somehow crawled himself back up and over.


    Back on the floor, the little snowy blond makes a loud ''hmmm'' as he looks Cass up and down, before shrugging loudly.


    "Okay, you''ll do! But don''t lag! You can carry the hissing kitty but careful because she tries to clean everyone all the time. Come on Amar, " Lukas comes over to take Amar by the hand, and tail. Dragging the other little boy far along enough to throw over the window, before jumping himself.


    Down below a voice that sounds like Abbey screams just a bit in shock.


    I sigh at the mess of it all.


    "Very well. I shall accept the outing. One must live a little, I suppose. Carry on." I clap for everyone to get back to their business, whatever it may be.


    From somewhere in the very wrong direction, another gunshot goes off, with the sounds of a broken something.


    "Very well, my young miss," Alfonso bows and smiles, the kind that scrunches up to his old wrinkle lined eyes. As if this were all great fun instead of the bothersome work it really is.


    He looks exactly the same as I remembered him, way back then as someone else. Every gray hair from the top of his head to his well-trimmed beard. Somewhat ageless when everything about him was already so old and set in their professional place. All except for this sort of twinkle in his eyes.


    I hope he''s having fun. Even just a little bit. I hope the Alfonso of the past could have retired well.


    "And please, my young miss, live more than just ''a little''. Don''t sound so much like your Lord father. You may go." he chuckles at my earlier order, making his mustache poof a bit.


    Cass bows to him, dipping me a bit along with her movements and making my bells jingle. Then quickly turns and without much effort, or even a running start, jumps out of the window.


    I would scream, but my voice feels caught at my throat.


    For we do not fall but glide down in a gentle manner. As if she were taking some smooth invisible escalator.


    From down below, already in a very plain looking wagon carriage, Lukas jumps up and down a bit in excitement, arms raised high waving at us.


    While Abbey, my growing little girl of a maid, stares up wide-eyed with her mouth gaping open. As if she has yet to see enough strange and magical things working in my service for the past year. Everything still so amazing to her naive eyes. A pink flush to her cheeks at the wonder of it all.


    Only Amar doesn''t care. He peeks up just a bit to see what the fuss is all about, before resuming munching on a sweet. The seated boy looks more interested in a snack that Abbey had previously handed to him.


    There''s something very strange about the mysterious woman carrying me down Mary Poppin''s style. For one, the fact that I can''t narrow down just exactly what is her ability, let alone all the secrets she may keep. For herself and anyone else.


    What troublesome mob characters.


    We touchdown with no great fanfare. No sparkles or popping magic. There is, however, a sort of transparent almost orangeish cube. One I only notice when it dispels, the moment Cass''s two feet settle on the stable ground. I make the conclusion then, that it was was all around us as we floated down, blending easily into the daylight.


    I wonder if I had noticed earlier, and possibly broke it, would we have simply fallen?


    "To the minor square in the eastern neighborhoods, take a long route, expect detours," Cass informs the driver, swiftly taking a seat.


    When she finally sets me down, moving us all out, Cass adjusts her hat that makes her look all the more mysterious. She cleans up very well. Glancing up with a cool look, to most everyone''s staring, she simply raises a single dark eyebrow.


    "What? Do I have something on my face?" she asks.


    Minor chaos erupts as the carriage clops along, out of the resort, and to the rest of the day. Lukas clamoring over the older woman, already getting close in rolling on her lap, asking any and every question under the sun and then some. Abbey trying not to scream in anxiety or nerves, but curious. Her eyes darting to every detail worn on the woman. Me. Jingling loudly over the cobblestone streets.


    I think I''m going to be sick soon. Not right now, but soon.


    "It smells nice outside, " Amar sticks his head out the wooden windows, shocking and scaring any passer-by residents with the hooded ears.


    The awwing I hear is obviously the gasps of improper shock.


    "Really? Let me! It smells a little cold. Like crispy leaves and oh nuts, roasted nuts and sweet tatos and burning bark and and-."Lukas leaves his questions to Abbey, and pops out next to him.


    If his tail was real it would wag, but his excited wiggling moves it in a very similar manner.


    "Awwww!!" the sounds from outside grows louder, even as we make a sharp turn into the narrow alley streets.


    I get a little sick from both the ride and staring at little long tailed butts, making to squeeze myself in the gap underneath the two of them.


    "Air!" I breathe, popping out to sightsee along with them.


    It really is nice outside today.


    A lot of things to wonder about, from all my work to these unknown characters that somehow ended up sticking around. Oh hell, the great big mess of the future. I seem to have picked up some not so background mob characters as minions.


    Lukas, and his lineage, I fear will be a very great headache to confront one day. But unexpectedly Amar comes with more and more slowly revealing trouble, and I don''t just mean the homewrecking with my own mother.


    Oh but my own family matters are more than enough to worry about. I won''t bite off more than I can chew.


    "What''s that? Can we stop by?" I sniff at a dingey street food stall.


    One that smells of something between chestnuts and peanuts. A steaming mashed paste getting stuffed and filled into donut looking balls. The carriage halts and one of the boys grabs the back of my hood to keep me from falling over the window. Lukas however bounces right on out, rolling over in a comedic tumble to prevent falling on his head.


    Immediately locals and those in line at the street food stall come to the strangely dressed pup''s aid, unneeded. They still crowd and coo, even as we step off, following very closely behind Cass''s long protective skirt.


    Hey Abbey, even you? Really now?


    Walking out I wonder how much more trouble is coming my way. Or the kind of chaos that we''re going to inevitably cause. Planned and unplanned.


    But it really is too nice a day outside to worry about. Let''s just leave it for when I''m a bit bigger. A job for future Rosalia. Good luck girl.


    I have enough trouble on my plate as it is.


    Though right now it will taste like some very peasanty streetfood donuts. That''s fine. I''m only so small right now. Like a baby, I should still focus on growing up and growing well, and that means plenty of eating.


    Oh?


    Is it free?!


    For how cute we are?! Yes! Free food always tastes the best! As much as we can eat?


    Bring it on!


    --------------------------------------


    --------------------


    ---


    This is the Rosalia mental observation journal again.


    One may think I''m doing absolutely nothing but rolling around in cute onesies and stuffing my face lazily as of late. But that is far from the case!


    Sure I''m being kept in the dark about some very important work. I''ve even been ''delegated'' some common ''homework'' in the public bath renovations to keep me distracted.


    But that is not enough to blind me from all the hints and clues. In fact, I slap myself for missing the obvious.


    I have figured out what my parents have been fighting about lately, and it''s not just the work stress interfering with their gross couple time.


    Mother is off her birth control!


    I should have realized it sooner. For there is a certain useful tea that must be taken daily, missing from her morning breakfasts and nightcaps. It''s a very rare and expensive sort of herb, that essentially can work comparable to modern birth control. So rare that it''s not even known to many a noble houses, let alone the common masses. For it could, and would, be drunk into extinction!


    It''s a very precious ingredient to be used in the troop''s apothecary and health centers, especially in menstrual delay and relief potions. Adventuring women and heroes across the ranks rely on those for many missions to go as smoothly and efficiently as possible.


    Sure this world could use more feminine hygiene education and products, but if such potions are an option isn''t it a lot less a headache during critical times. Say hunting and escaping any magical dungeon beasts without the scent of blood leaking out of you.


    As a busy young lady of a very large business estate, of course, the previous Rosalia made full use of such things, even the direct tea. Or well as much as Alfonso and grampa were willing to supply. For that monthly mess is really annoying and painful business. Especially at the sensitive age of teenagers!


    But mother hasn''t been taking it lately, she just had her cycle and is worse than ever.


    Mother is seeking to be disgusting and perhaps bake another bun in the oven!


    The death seeking nerd was right, and running for his life. Like prey to be hunted by a starving beast in heat!


    Oh, I do somewhat apologize for being so crass, so scandalously improper in my wording, but think of it from my perspective. All I can see is a very...irate...sort of woman fueled on primal gross instinct. The signs are all there.


    Seduction attempts, all failed of course, if not deemed a failure from the start. The too easy crying and mushroom growing moping while stress eating sweets in her ''give up'' state, either in proper pajamas or a too lovely nightgown gone to waste. The dragging of Lilyanne and I into her empty bed, occasionally covered in candles and rose petals. To the destroyed practice dummies reserved for the guards, as if they were pounded and smashed to pieces, straight into the ground, for no explainable reason or culprit.


    I smell desperation and distraught.


    Just father being gone all the time. Or running off in the evening when he does come back. Those are clear signs as well.


    I fear for the day, or night, that mother eventually catches him.


    As a busy ambitious man with a tendency to overwork himself to perfection, of course, he doesn''t want to bother with another child. He still occasionally reacts to shock and surprise that I was even born sometimes, rude.


    Not too strangely, father has always had a very adverse reaction to his own lineage. Even refusing to tell me more about whatever his, possibly passive, bloodline ability consists of. Will he ever tell me? Or do I have to take desperate measures?


    I will show up in front of the Bicchieirri''s doorsteps if that''s what it takes. I''ll even fake being everyone''s beloved Lilyanne for it to happen. But that is an emergency plan for a very far off date.


    Right now we have the troublesome feud between mother and father. Particularly when father running off. Not exactly a healthy form of communication, even if he risks being violated when alone in mother''s grasps.


    It can''t be helped, for this is a very busy time. Especially for him. It''s not just the building projects and famine contingency plans, though those do admittedly contribute to his overwhelmingly busy schedule.


    It should soon be that time. His rise to power, as this republic''s controlling prime minister! Yes, that!


    It would all add up and fit perfectly in the timeline. I expect it even, to some mild disappointment in the slowing of my current business plans. For the nerd is still quite useful. But none the less, I planned accordingly.


    It comes with great shock then, when he tells me that is not the case.


    "What nonsense are you going about now my little Chip? Such a position, how troublesome. To do such chores myself? " he almost laughs out loud, showing how ridiculous he thinks of it all.


    "Oh, that would be horrible! Oh, no time at all, surely we can afford not to fall into that? " mother swoons, nuzzling happily right into his shoulder.


    Hearts and flowers, smiles and happy vibes. It''s all wrong. The nerd is sitting right there in peace and mother isn''t attacking at all despite the hearts floating about and in her eyes. At most only snuggle, hugging, and crawling herself all over him.


    Ridiculous.


    He looks absolutely ridiculous.


    "I admit, I have been somewhat preoccupied with selecting and supporting powers in play. It''s causing quite a stir that a commoner is gaining traction. How interesting that will be. " he brings a hand to his chin in contemplation.


    As if he wasn''t behind this entirely new turn of events.


    A commoner? A COMMONER?! Leading the race for the republic''s prime minister?! What?! What is this, when did this ever happen, ever?! I don''t understand?!


    Maybe I ate something strange and am now hallucinating?


    I knew I shouldn''t have had too much unknown street food! But who can resist freebies? Free stuff is the best!


    Or was it something from Amar''s secret sweet stash?


    Perhaps I really should stop confiscating and eating from there. You never know with the rotation he has. Oh but there''s are these kinda addicting lemon honey drops that are very soothing for a little girl''s throat after screaming and ordering people around all day. I thought I was safe if I just aimed for those and gave new things to Lukas or Lilyanne to try first?


    I''m hallucinating very badly right now, right?


    "Oh, how wonderful! Oh, my darling is so smart and wonderful in his shadowy plots and schemes, oh how absolutely cute you look relishing in that chaos you secretly cause. I will always love you so so much in everything you like to do. Even when I''m very tired, don''t understand and hate you, I love you." mother sighs, rubbing her head in love and affection.


    The invisible hearts she radiates are very pink.


    Pink pink and oh my damn fucking god, why is my father sitting there acting like he''s not wearing a stupid pink pastel unicorn onesie?!!?!!?! AAAAAAHHHHH?!!?!?!?


    "Papa cute! Soooooo cuuuute cute cute, Lily want too. " my little sister copies my mother''s motions, hugging his leg.


    His very pink and fluffy leg, as if made from cotton candy dreams.


    He graces the little sticky girl with a pat, pulling her up to the couch so she may play with his pastel rainbow tail. For the big sticky girl, he graces her with an affectionate kiss on the top of her forehead, taken luxuriously slow. The ridiculous glittering gold horn on his hood, stuffed with cotton and softness, not getting in the way at all.


    Both mother and daughter squeal, clinging on with more hugs and gross shows of affection.


    "I am very lucky, and can only continue to beg you for your patience with me, my love," he says seriously, taking her hand and looking into mother''s wide sparkling eyes.


    Something that would normally get her to swoon in weak knees and romance novel backgrounds, perhaps attacking in disgusting open mouthed kisses.


    "Kyaaa so cuuuuute!!! My pinky pink darling is so cute!!!" she instead laughs and squeals. Petting at his rainbow unicorn mane, pulling and poking at all the stupid details.


    I never should have left the onesie drafts to Georgie. Never. Just look at the chaos he has somehow created.


    We have adult sized unicorn onesies now? No, the problem is that my father is wearing them! Father?! Lord Ventrella! Big bad shady secret villain to the villainess!?


    Someone, please come wake me up out of this nightmare.


    "It''s almost over for this time, my extremely patient and good wife. You''ve done marvelously in all you do, with or without me to bother you. Always will. I live for your glory, and clumsily stive to please," father kisses both sides of her cheeks, unafraid of being attacked or eaten at all.


    Not in that very unsexy pinky unicorn suit.


    This is not the suit I mean to save the day. Not at all. Yet this is somehow the suit the Alfonso, of all people, advised and used. Where he got it, well I unfortunately know.


    I blame my misbehaving assistant for this entirely, even if he wasn''t the one to sew the damn thing.


    "Oh daaaaarling! I love you!" she practically glomps whole the terrible man she calls husband.


    "Lily too!" my sister refuses to lose out on this pink atmosphere.


    "Of course, my girls. If it so pleases your fancy, we may even tour the progress locally made, that I have so been stolen towards. The ports are not only being expanded ahead of schedule but an autumn ''tasting'' festival is being attempted. To celebrate. Such a lively novelty, only the grandest most joyful things for my girls. " father offers across the sticky female Ventrellas, before turning to look directly at me.


    He could be saying literally anything right now, anything at all, and mother would just nod along with those heart filled eyes. Lilyanne following along exactly.


    Only I show no reaction. In fact, my lack of a reaction is the greatest show of how exasperated, dead inside really, I have become.


    That pastel pink and rainbow unicorn suit on my red-haired handsome devil of a father....is just too much.


    A really devastating suit alright. The completely wrong one. But devasting and effective none the less.


    I pinch myself.


    Yep, still awake and still here in this ridiculous life.


    "Rosalia?" father asks with an even tone, awaiting my confirmation of either his plans or to fall into some kind of stupid putty into his palm.


    As if this sort of gaping gap moe would work. How stupid.


    I facepalm instead. Facepalm in both my hands so I may no longer have to look at this monstrosity. Then roll myself away.


    Goodbye now. I have work to do.


    No! Noooo don''t pull my tail! Noooo! Get me out of this thing?! I don''t want to match! Especially not with the nerd?! I''m so pink! Get me out and into normal clothes again! I want out!


    Someone please, get me out of here and this family of crazies. Help!


    Hurry and grow up faster already oh little body of mine.


    ------

 142 To the ports!

    My not so loyal minions and all serving babysitters look up at me.


    Yes up. For I had Yuna put me up on a stack of very tall boxes. The grumpy teenager is a strange sort of worker, but a very stable one when paid his weight in food and goodies. Which will be a great payoff today.


    Now everyone must look up at me, or at least, not have to look down too bad


    "Today will be a busy day. A possibly fun one, but still busy none the less. There must be order. A schedule. A system to things!" I command with all the grace and power in my natural bearing.


    Until I feel my sailor hat slip a little. Gosh darn it, it''s still too big!


    "How come I don''t get a dress?!" Lukas raises his hand in questioning, looking terrible too cute, even without an animal onesie. We''ve had quite enough animal onesies for a while yes.


    "My legs are cold again." Amar complains, feeling the exposed skin of his exposed thighs between schoolboy shorts and stockings.


    He stares at the stupid cute frills and buttons, already missing the onesies.


    Ah yes, you just can''t go wrong with the classic sailor suit!


    "Ahahahah! Where do you even get these things?! " laughs Tamera. Still very much laughing at each and every little sailor.


    Culture of cuteness is lost on this world.


    "Ahem. Order!" I call out, readjusting the thing atop my head.


    What is this you may ask? Why am I, the Rosalia Ventrella, dressed in a little sailor dress with all the right touches of nautical themes? Just because it''s cute?


    No!


    It''s because we''re at the ports today! My family ports to be specific. Mine! Bwhahahaha!


    Yuna pats my back a bit painfully until I cough out my not so evil laughter. Very hard to be threatening when you''re as small and cute like me.


    Anyway today I am dressed up for the occasion.


    Not only am I back home, to the main villa, but today is a special day at the ports. A never seen before sort of day.


    An autumn tasting festival!


    How exciting.


    And stupid.


    Not the idea itself but the fact that it was implemented. Here of all places. Each farming village may be too small to host or get the word out. They might fight or try to compete with one another despite their limited size. It''s just a lot to set an actual tasting festival up.


    A neutral ground like the ports avoids a lot of those problems and intervillage tensions.


    The ports not only have more professional building manpower but the potential guests. From traveling sailors, merchant ships, the troops with snack money to spend, to even any free and curious locals who may want to catch a wagon bus down.


    I think the local roads have gotten a bit better? More efficient?


    It does make a lot of sense from those many standpoints. But how much time did father waste on it? Seriously what is he doing?


    That nerd, always biting off more and more stupid working projects. No wonder he doesn''t have any time left to follow the damn original timeline?!


    Stupid stupid stupid. Ruining my plans like that. What am I supposed to do about the plans regarding his politcal career and taking over the household in his absense now? What other abnormalities do I have to account for? Is everything messed up!?


    Might as well be!


    Well, at least some things are better. The prep work, building projects, and overall production efficiency are going well on both large and small scale.


    We can even afford to host this autumn festival.


    Odd right? One would think that we should be stocking up and hoarding every crumb and morsel in preparation for the long winter. Not wasting it out like this.


    But no. The trade opportunity outweighs the costs, for the domestic market alone. Let alone any impressions that may be taken by travelers. Besides, it''s good for the local villagers to sell their crafts. Trade around abut, have some fun, make a bit of extra money. All good.


    Imagine the results if it all goes well and word gets out.


    Thus, I, Rosalia Therese Ventrella, must do my part in setting a standard of quality control.


    "I''m going to taste...everything." I declare, a raging fire of determination in my guts.


    "Isn''t that just you being hungry?" the brain-damaged minion down below raises his hand in questioning.


    "Shush! It''s judging, quality control, a full evaluation to burn into the hearts and minds of anyone who dares sells a thing. Think of the reputation if anyone got sick? Or worse, if they said the food here sucks?!" I point and announce.


    "I want bacon pops!" the not exactly brain damaged, for I''m not entirely sure he even had one, other minion speaks up his requests.


    "Are there any sweets here?" Amar sniffs around, ignoring my orders. It takes exactly one arm reach from Tamera to reach over and stop him from wandering off, even if she''s still laughing at it all.


    "The sweetest thing is bacon," Lukas is already drooling, head spinning in looking at everything around us and possibly beyond.


    "No." Amar pats him from where he dangles in Tamera''s grip.


    "No Lukas, it''s really not. " I sigh up above.


    There''s...a lot of work to do with that one.


    "Onwards, I don''t have much time before papa finishes up work and catches me. He wants to do something stupid I bet..." I shiver in thinking of all the mundane things that could attract and keep my father''s attention.


    So many commoners, so many rural tools and techniques. If I waited around for father to take me around the festival like he planned, I''ll never get enough time to do anything.


    You know how hard it is for me to sneak out? I


    "You didn''t, princess. There''s like 3 guards following after us." Yuna points out.


    "Onwards I say! Georgie, stop being shy and let''s get going. " I order to my young assistant.


    Reluctantly, Georgie steps out from the corner. Back out into the light of the world. I don''t see the problem. He looks the best he ever has. Sharply dressed in one of my modified cosplay butler suit designs, black tailcoat and all. Yes absolutely wonderful


    The bear hood and ears really make it. So cute.


    "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" Tamera doubles over laughing at the reveal.


    Half of her head is still mysteriously bleached blond, the unsymmetrical half is growing back dark. I wonder what hair dyes she uses. Previously when I first met her it was a baked shade of red and black. Though according to Amar and Yuna, they''re all ''bad accidents'' and not dyes. Still, something to look into. I would make so much money if hair dye was that easier, and much safer.


    "Georgie, come along now. " I snap for my bear butler.


    Oh ho ho, revenge is a full circle. He looks absolutely adorable! Oh ohoho~


    "So stupid. It''s so stupid it''s great. " Yuna laughs along, pointing and prodding at an embarrassed Georgie.


    "Haha yes, laugh it up. " Georgie grits out.


    The teenager doing his very best to suck it up, through all the laughter and public staring.


    It''s one thing for a child to be running about in a cute little animal onesie. It''s a lot different for a full grown boy like Georgie to be modeling about not just my butler suit, but to do so with cute beary bear attachments! Ribbons! Accessories! Fuzzy ears.


    Ah, I am so satisfied like this.


    "Let''s laugh at him as we walk, come on!" I struggle to hop down the boxes. For they are stacked very vertically, and the drop is quite steep.


    Thus I land on the boys. Very squishy little bones yes.


    "Let''s go!" Lukas hops, throwing me over his shoulder again.


    "Wait wait wait, not upside down," I complain. But alas, the scent of something grilling is too strong and Lukas is too fast.


    Oh my motion sickness.


    "That!" he stops at the nearest stall of meat, grilling up strangely shaped sausages.


    Only then can I scramble my way down, after bouncing the whole way as a sack of potatoes on his tiny shoulders. Back down to solid ground. Blessed solid ground.


    "Ahahaha! Ah don''t just go grabbing food again, remember to pay. " Tamera shouts out as she follows easily, dropping off Amar with her.


    "Oh yeah! " Lukas hops in place, eyes impatiently sparkling over at the babysitters to get him one. For he does not carry money, not even a single coin on him.


    How wonderful, he knows how to stay.


    "Here. We''ll have that one, and that one." I point to two different fresh grilling items, while pulling out the correct amount from my purse. The jingle of the tossing coins immediately gets a stall keeper to bend and squat to receive my orders.


    It''s very hard to get anyone to take me seriously, but money talks the best language.


    "Whoopee! I don''t have to get chased." Lukas cheers, hugging me for paying.


    Excuse me? You brat? What kind of nonsense food stealing situations have you gotten into Lukas? Just how did you survive before Gable? Is the concept of money that strange and foreign?!


    Well for most children, yes I suppose so.


    Especially since this kid lives in the damn forest now. Sometimes I suspect he may have just come out of one, as an airy stack of snowballs come to life.


    Well, they''re admittedly cuter at this age when they''re a little silly and stupid.


    "Don''t get it wrong. I want to bite everything, and you''re all just my disposal unit when I get tired." I wave off.


    This is my foolproof technique for being able to eat more things.


    The more the merrier, but only to a certain point. This is the prime size to pass and share around food. More importantly, the minions seem to have enviously bottomless stomachs. Despite Amar''s usual pickiness, he can eat quite a lot. All seemingly without gaining weight? As for Lukas, does anything need to even be said? Is it because they''re boys?


    Ah, really not fair.


    Deja vu hits me.


    I''ve said this exact complaint before. I''ve said it again and again at night markets and bar counters, in crazy buffets and fine dining establishments. I''ve complained jokingly and seriously to those silly fools who dared befriend me only to be used as a food eating buddy. Too many regular buddies. Even my own younger brother. Their smiles and gluttony flash before me, a little too nostalgic for my tastes.


    I remember a dumb boy that stuck around the most to finish my food for me.


    And that''s it!


    Before my thoughts can wander off to another group of friends, a much older and much less magical one, who would also share my street foods with me, I shake my head and slap my cheeks. Slap slap slap! This is not the time nor place for such thought.


    "Why is Rosa doing that?" Lukas whispers not so conspicuously.


    "I don''t know? But we should watch her really carefully. Last year she fainted really bad at the sausage stuffing. " Amar answers.


    "AHhaha Rosa''s scared of sausages?! Oooooh scary scary~ Don''t worry. I''ll eat all the yummy scary sausages and save the day!" Lukas taunts me.


    Really now, let''s not think too much with these foolish children in front of me.


    Onwards to eat the world!


    The front stall seller squats ridiculously low to hand the food down to some very short little children.


    "Thank you. " I say cutely, stepping on Lukas''s foot to stop him from chomping down immediately.


    "Thanks a bunch. " Lukas says only when I grind my foot down, indicating him to use manners.


    "Oh? Thank you. " Amar tilts his head questioningly when he receives an additional stick himself.


    One that no one even ordered, on the house apparently. All eyes behind the stall peeked over to stare down at us kids. As if waiting for us to take our first bites.


    Oh the blessings of cuteness.


    "One bite, you all get one bite first, then pass it. That''s the point of tasting." I instruct in the art of sharing.


    Unfortunately, one bite for Lukas is very big and messy. Unsalvageably.


    "You gotta eat first, then hand the rest it to Lukas. " Amar says as we trade sticks.


    "I see. My bad. " I nod munching away.


    "And if you don''t watch him, he can eat all your money. Or just eat. Everything. And the owners yells at you because Lukas ran away or made them more mad with something he said. Even if you don''t know him or anything. Then you gotta run too because they chase you with oils and pans and stuff. " Amar tells me in too specific detail.


    Like speaking from a possibly traumatizing experience.


    "How fun?" I munch


    Mmm these dough balls are better than whatever I got. It deserves another half bite. Don''t want to get too full off the first stall.


    "It was! I never got chased by angry shopkeepers before? It was really silly and fun." Amar takes a tiny nibble of the tough meat skewer, then another, before sticking his tongue out in rejection.


    "Are you gonna finish those?" said subject of the too specific story asks, his own unshared stick chewed clean.


    I mean Lukas did offer to share, but with how he destroyed the meat skewer on the first bite, we all saw fit to just let him have it.


    "B+ rating, overcooked ordinary sausages but the char is nice. The dumplings are better and good service." I rate and stamp, snapping for Georgie to mark the stall off the draft paper map father gave me.


    We then throw Lukas the meat skewer, hand Yuna the dumplings, for fairness, and move on.


    Meanwhile, Yuna still has not eased up on the teasing, in fact making it worse for my assistant with every passing minute. Only food will distract him from torturing Georgie and his lovely new ensemble.


    "Just you wait~" Georgie grits, letting out a tense but suspicious grin to the laughing younger boy.


    "Whatcha gonna do? Crown me with a bear ear tiara and hug me to death in the kiddy club? " Yuna eats up the offered dumplings, waving the stick like a delicate little fairy wand.


    This baby sitter of mine has never been through the horror of hugs in my family, and that is for the best. May he survive as long as possible. I must grow up enough to profit lots of his potential modeling career after all.


    In dirty rough clothes and a tiny barely there pony tail, clearly that of a prepared albeit crass adventurer, Yuna stands out as a very good-looking youth. Even next to my absolutely adorable bear-themed butler in training. When Yuna laughs out unrestrained, he gets more than a few second glances.


    It could be flattering. But there are too many way too old people, not just young maidens, who glance back with a slightly dazed look.


    "Moving on." I clap, demanding the march.


    "Yes, listen to the princess. Best get moving Georgie-bear." Yuna copies my little claps and smirks at my still flustered assistant.


    "Gonna put a cat bell on you one day, pretty boy. Gonna make you so damn cute you choke and die at yourself. " Georgie grumbles in frustration at his unlikely friend, escorting me as both Yuna and Tamera continue laughing at him.


    Especially when he walks away, the attached fuzzball of a tail moving with each step. Their volume still ever-growing and attracting passing attention.


    Ah such fun.


    "Ahahahaha! Ha! Cute enough to hunt down and eat! Whoooooo boy. Shame Vinny''s missing out on this. " Tamera wipes the tears from her eyes.


    "Real shame. I get to miss out on him dying. Again." Yuna rolls his eyes, directing Amar and Lukas from running off.


    "Oi, not too far you brats. You''re dolled up like rich targets today. " Yuna warns them, roughly taking Amar''s hand.


    With Lukas on Amar''s other hand, and Yuna leading, they look like a pathetic little choo choo train. Not that trains exist here but the image sticks.


    Tamera laughs, but she stays back, scouting the area. A couple of birds flap around up above and she nods, continuing to walk along with us.


    We stop by every booth we can. Lots of detours at this autumn ''tasting'' festival.


    My goal is food, but sometimes it''s nice to give myself more time to digest and look around. More importantly, stop and stare at all the technical details that can be clearly improved.


    Layout and space safety.


    Lack of information and front booths.


    Hygiene standards.


    All that and more. I couldn''t even stop myself if I wanted to. The experiences years I spent working in this field, in every practical event planning and comparing, makes it almost like another instinct. Working mode always on, even in things like this. Always taking in another reference to use. I''m only missing my phone, camera, and crews.


    I''m missing my nagging manager Yao for this. Or my silly co-workers.


    Or even sillier tag alongs.


    "If I have to taste another bland tasteless thing only salvageable by being fried in crude oils all around, I''m going to throw myself into the ocean." Georgie complains at another D rated stall.


    "Free food is free" Yuna splits the oily leftovers with Tamera. The two soldiers taking in the most calories with Lukas not far behind.


    "Nah he''s got a point. It gets pretty tiring at some point. Like the seafood here are great, and you can''t go wrong with fried but a lot of the offerings are pretty much the same. " Tamera chews down on another fried polenta, popping olives, dried smoked meats, and other little snack foods like a true champ, carrying most everything.


    It''s true. There''s not a lot of variety in the cooked food offerings. The same kind of street offerings you can see anywhere around here with few variations.


    Any stall with a bit more creativity or foreign tastes immediately stands out, and reasonably more popular. It doesn''t need my judgment for the masses to see that.


    First time festivals are always messy, and this one is no exception. I suppose it can only run as well as it does with my father, and most likely my grandpa, as the behind the scenes host and sponsor.


    It is after all my family''s ports.


    Thus the turnout is quite high.


    The fresh produce and natural selections are much more interesting though, even if they''re common. Things taste best when they''re in season. It''s worth the trip then, for the farmers who set up stalls. Even more so if they were savy and risky enough to do produce selling and cooking.


    The tastes speak for themselves!


    "Needs more bacon! Here" Lukas declares, handing Amar the rest of a very strange fried vegetable. Only veggies are safe from Lukas''s monstrous mouth.


    "Yummy." the other boy crunches down, slow and steady.


    Amar''s much pickier than Lukas, but that''s not saying much. When he does like something, his little tummy is just as strong and worryingly infinite. ....Well, I suppose it''s a good thing to feed this one a bit more?


    "Trade. Don''t be picky, you gotta taste everything at least once. " I demand, handing him my grilled cheese mushroom for the fake tempura.


    I think this is a good way to get Lilyanne into veggies. This world is amazing for breeding a mushroom that tastes and melts like a semi-soft cheese! How fascinating! It can be eaten on its own or mashed and grounded into further cheesy like applications.


    "I smell meat?!" Lukas drools, turning his head up


    "Smells a little sweet? Not meat. Fake meat. " Amar nods to the scent while pulling a long string of cheese in his nibbles.


    "It''s so aromatic? What is it?" I hand Georgie the rest of my stick but order three more different fried and grilled veggies to go.


    Or at least I think they''re veggies?


    Ah, what strange and tasty things this world has? So many different textures and applications. From those cheese shrooms to berries that pop and sizzle like fizzy candy. So many.


    With such naturally tasty produce, it''s disappointing but no wonder that cooking here tends to be so rustic and simplistic. Give or take the region and their specialties.


    Lukas runs up to the stall with the strangely familiar, but not, tasty scent.


    They look like apples. Grilling apples.


    "Meat apples!" Lukas hops in excitement.


    Ah yes, how could I forget? This world has meat apples, though it''s not native to my territory. Much more common in more...apple bearing regions. Either to the West or North of here.


    Please don''t bite down raw. Please cook it like any other meat. Apparently, there are trees and species that taste more or less like different meats. But in some places, much colder places, they''re common enough to be considered peasant fare.


    I remember.


    I remember a certain not so considerate fiancee of mine. These strange apples weren''t native to my home, and thus I had reasonably and curiously asked about them at one of our unfortunate meetings. Those long dragged out tea times.


    Even sweets get tiring when it''s all the same, year after year. Without anyone''s knowledge, I already had Alfonso and the secret guards arrange for me a serving. Both in my own private quarters and to sneak me out to some common street stall in the middle of winter. It really does taste best-grilled whole.


    I was just bringing up small talk. Differences. Trade. I don''t know, whatever we''re supposed to do in our official meeting time together.


    Not only did that stupid rock coldly brush me off then, he even scoffed at me.


    "So there are things even you don''t know? I suppose ...it''s a testament to your ladyship to be so ignorantly uninformed. Especially of the peons. Too poor and weak to afford meat, they can only gather those things. Are such unimportant things what you waste your spare time in? Isn''t it better to spend more time with your ill sister, waiting for you?"


    It was the most he spoke to me that year. More than a lot of years.


    I would have preferred he ignored me as usual, or even left it at that. But no. The next month, after I had returned back to my territory, my fiancee had sent me cases of them.


    Rotting.


    Me. Specifically. With orders, no one else should open. I was assaulted with horrors that nearly knocked me out, had I not ignored those instructions and had my guards do it for me from a safe distance.


    They''re meat apples?! Do you know what that smells like?


    Oh the stench?! The mess!!! Almost as bad as a pile of corpses, but with all the rot! Oh and don''t get me started on the pests that gathered and were squirming around. Absolutely disgusting! A pure waste and treacherous statement!


    "Disgusting...so disgusting." I shake in memory and fear, feeling it as if it were my own real experiences.


    "Noooooooo they''re really yummy Rosa. Because they taste like...BACON! But you can go crunch crunch munch into the whole fruit." Lukas points and waves to the roasting apples.


    "Rosa? Are you okay? Are you feeling sleepy and weird again?" Amar asks, poking my sides.


    "Fine!" I brush off, staring moodily at nothing in particular.


    All those tasty meat apples. Gone to waste. That just goes to show why the north had such food shortages, suspectable to famines, and slower recovery periods. Not just because of the bad weather. That idiot of a prince was there as it''s the heir.


    Disgusting.


    Is it even worth reaching out a hand to saving his pathetic land? The common citizens, those poor apple munching peasants, are innocent. But I''m no hero.


    I don''t even know how to save myself.


    "...Do you wanna see the apples better?" Amar bothers my thoughts again with a shake and hold of my shoulders.


    In his own way, he''s not relenting in treating me like a stupid baby about to fall over in a spontaneous nap. A little too worried about a repeat of last year''s harvest. His stupid little head turns too obvious and panicked in signaling all the babysitters to look after me closer.


    "...Fine." I relent, thus allowing Georgie to pick me up into his arms. If anything to get a better view of the grilling fruit over the market stalls.


    "One of each flavor," I growl out my orders.


    "One of each variety?" Georgie cautiously looks over to every nodding and grinning head.


    The babysitters have been mostly eating my leftovers, after all, I have a game plan to not get too full, but some things they''ll get on their own. This seems like a popular choice. And so, everyone gets a meat apple, all the meat apples apparently.


    "A- on the offerings alone, because your competition is just so sad. You''ll be more popular if you offer sliced options for sharing. Even if it''s just half apples to mix and match flavors." I rank and judge the poor bumbling stall keepers.


    "Sheesh Rosa! Say thanks!" Lukas sticks a tongue at me, repeating my own lesson from earlier back at me.


    My glare is mistaken by the stallkeepers and the workers rush to chop up some of the finished grilled apples. They even add tiny toothpicks to them.


    "Thank you. You may have an A+ rating now due to service." I thank them, getting sighs of relief all around as well as reverently bowing thanks.


    Is it just me or is service getting better all around the further we go? In fact, many places refuse to even take my money anymore. Not even if the babysitters offer to pay.


    Oh well.


    I much on my bite-sized apples pieces and it''s tasty. Meat apples are so juicy and delicious even when grilled with nothing but their own apple skin and juices. Very tasty, the delectable juice squirting out with each bite.


    "Moving on! It doesn''t matter if it''s common or boring or only good for peons to eat as cheap fare. I shall take a bite of everything with rightful judgement. Everything!" my gluttony knows no bounds.


    Except for my kid-sized stomach. Burp. Just a few bites of everything. Nothing more.


    "Whoa, now that''s a big fish. " Yuna points to a section of the edge of the docks.


    "Nice. Probably just caught a few hours ago, think they''ll be slicing it up soon? "Georgie''s eyes start sparkling at the prime ingredient.


    "What do you think they''ll be doing with that big on sword and daggers on it? " Tamera eyes the hanging deadly ocean fish for entirely different reasons.


    Say the razor-sharp fins and very obvious chainsaw of a head. Like a swordfish, but uh...much sharper. Obviously bigger. What''s wrong with this world? Is there more oxygen or something? Why are so many things so huge?


    "I can catch bigger ones." Lukas brags with his apple stick raised high, marching and munching.


    "We didn''t catch them, they ate us? Then it swam off with us inside. " Amar reminds, only for Lukas to stuff half an apple into his little mouth.


    "Get fatter. Fat fat fat!" Lukas happily threatens, sounding suspiciously like my own mother in that tone.


    I think he''s learning bad influences being around my family too much.


    "Let''s take a better look," Georgie can hardly hold back his excitement, in fact, he''s already power walking over there.


    "But calamari." I pull him back by the cutesey ribbon on his neck, much like the reigns on a horse.


    And so, we stop by the stall midway, picking up little cups and buckets of chopped calamari and seafood. Complete with little wedges of lemon.


    "A! But I suggest you invest in experimenting with dipping sauces. Try it by next year, try it! Marinara!" I munch away, still giving rankings and advice even as Georgie drags me away from the stall. Helpless in his arms while popping hot crispy fried oysters and calamari into my mouth like popcorn.


    "What''s Marinara? Wasn''t it one of the pizzas? " Tamera asks not so quietly.


    "Blood sauce! Kinda chunky blood sauce." Lukas exclaims in explanation.


    "...I think I''m good with them plain with lemon or vinegar." Tamera munches a little slower at the thought.


    "No that brat means tomatoes, it''s red. The plain red tomato sauce with onions and shit. " Yuna translates a little tiredly, oddly fluent at Lukas speech.


    "Oh oh oh get some good seats, I wanna see how they slice this species up. " Georgie squeals in glee as the crowd gets rowdy over the hanging literal swordfish.


    An announcement bellows out from a senior fisherman with one of grampa''s strange megaphones. A bidding auction for the sword pieces on the catch. Something that has Tamera forcing her way through, making a seat for us all


    "I''m thirsty." Amar finishes up his cup of fried goodies and tugs up at the older blond. Immediately drawing Yuna''s attention.


    It''s subtle, but there''s obvious favoritism from the grumpy cat. The normal harsh teen may say rude things or give those classic rebellious teenaged expressions, but he always goes to hold Amar''s hand or keep watch of that boy first.


    To be fair Amar is a lot easier to keep track of than Lukas. Normally.


    "Well then what are we waiting for? Yo, I''m taking this one. Ya''ll want anything? " Yuna doesn''t even bother sitting down, taking Amar''s hand the moment the boy wipes himself clean of crumbs.


    "Whatever you''re having!" Tamera waves him off, eyes on the prize.


    "Same. " Georgie drools a bit over the fish as if imagining all the ways it could be sliced, maimed and burned into a dish worthy of my table.


    "I want that sword. " Lukas points.


    "So does everyone brat, get in line and shell out that cash. " Tamera laughs, ruffling his hair as she sets him down into her lap.


    Amar tugs the older boy from his fingers, something that Yuna responds to easily by bending down to hear his whispers. With them though, Yuna sighs and rolls his eyes.


    "And the princess too. Come on. Pick what you want to drink yourself so I don''t get any complaints." Yuna makes the grabby motions over to Georgie. Indicating for him to just hand me over like it was automatic.


    Something my little assistant practically throws me over into his arms. How rude!


    Is a big fish more important than me?!


    "Let''s go before they start cutting guts." Amar tugs Yuna along.


    "Really now princess. You get scared of this shit? That''s no big deal you brat, the problem is not saying anything and sitting through it. Like an idiot." Yuna scolds me for nothing, readjusting me to at least be comfortable in his arm.


    I think there is a big misunderstanding going on.


    "I don''t get scared? I love fish!" I defend myself from the false accusations.


    "You like bacon too. " Amar gives me the side-eye up.


    "What''s that supposed to mean?" I would demand and pull, but I am up here and the kid is down there.


    It was once! Once! I''m not even scared of pigs or slaughter or anything like that. Blood? I''m Rosalia Ventrella? I make blood run, not the other way around. It was one freak moment of unexpected weakness on my part.


    I am reasonably traumatized from getting pathetically murdered once, after all. Not that anyone needs to know that.


    "I got in big trouble last time, even though I didn''t do anything? Not fun." Amar complains a bit.


    My anger at getting misunderstood deflates a bit with that. Ah it really can''t be helped, I have a cover to put up with and everyone lives with that repercussion. Even the kiddies.


    "Sorry. " I say out, not being specific or anything like that.


    "Alright brats. Good enough. Now. Let''s go eat without those losers. " Yuna grins wide enough to see his sharp canines and we both nod along to that plan.


    Onwards!


    "Quince Juice." I point to one yellow stacked stall.


    "Almond milk." Amar tugs and points to another, bubbling and boiling the nuts into a creamy hot beverage.


    "We can do both. " Yuna, the greedy teenager, does more than just compromise.


    Hot wooden cups of steaming local mandorle almond milk, naturally a bit sweet and with just a hint of added cinnamon, come first. No wonder Amar sniffed this stall out. It''s a very satisfying warmth against the slightly chilly ocean air. It''s when we finish up to return the stall''s cups, me passing a stamp of that rare A+ rating, that trouble decides to rear its ugly head.


    "Hey there cutie. Aren''t you a little too young to be single with some brats?" A group of guys comes out of their dark corner, hitting on my baby sitter.


    "It''s dangerous out there, want some company?" another one fake bows. Mostly ignoring us short little ones, if not to use us as a pickup excuse.


    "Fuck off." Yuna goes straight to the point.


    "Oooooh, a nasty one. Nothing wrong with that. You sure you''re fit enough to be guarding some fancy young little masters? How about -" another faceless mob taunts.


    "Take another step near them, and I''ll chop off your all your digits. " Yuna grins, crossing his arms in a show of attitude.


    Something tells me it''s nowhere near an empty threat. Another part of me shivers that he has a little too much experience in that.


    "Oh come on honey, we don''t mean no harm. Little thing like you? All alone like this? You got it tough? How about we buy you a drink, buy you a break protecting those kids. Win-win?" sleazy number whatever says, reaching as arm over.


    Yuna disappears before Amar pulls my hand to drag me behind him. Without even being able to track his movements, Yuna has that guy with his arm twisted over his own head. The screams of pain coming a little too late in the shock and surprise of his speed. Before he goes down, his pants falls, as if sliced at all the important parts holding them up.


    Oh my poor eyes.


    "I said I''d cut it off," the small teen plays with a pouch, the other man''s stolen money purse, " but you can''t even afford half a minute of my knife with this much. "


    "G-get him!" one of them gather''s his sense enough to order out.


    "Maybe if you all hand over your cash and valuables, you can scrape together enough to kiss the floor I''m stepping on. Would you like that?" Yuna laughs eerily calm.


    "Yuna? There''s more. A lot more." Amar sniffs the air, pulling me close.


    "It''s a stupid trap to catch you brats." The teenager flips himself up and over, easily piling up the goons in a mess of violence, collecting purses and wallets as he goes.


    This time, however, it''s not just pants and purses he aims for. Yuna goes low, leaving a trail of blood splatter and cut ligaments. Ankles, knees, and screeches.


    "Wanna play a game?! It''s really good, I promise." Amar yells up at the ceiling, before turning over to me. His usual dopeness intensified like a child who found something very amusing.


    A dark figure drops down from the support beams, standing out far too much in daylight. Too tall, too dark, even in a hood.


    "Him..." I feel myself wonder over Amar''s strange words, though I recognize one of my father''s men.


    "Awww that''s not as fun? But ok. That''s fair. " Amar says when the man stretches his arms out silently.


    "Rosa, they''re here to pick you up. Sorry, you can''t play. " Amar opens up as if to hand me over to the hidden guard


    "Hey wait wait wait, I don''t trust you and your games. You always do something stupid on your own." I cling on the kid''s sailor suit, for he really does have a bad history of shit he finds fun.


    "Ah. You really want to play too, don''t you?" Amar tilts his head with a very big smile.


    No. No I do not! Especially not anything I don''t understand!


    I just wanted to eat the world like a little piggie. Not that I am a piggie. Was that too much to ask?


    "Okay. If you wanna stop, run to a guard. If you wanna play, run and fall backward. There''s a trap behind us. I''ll go left, and we''ll meet up? Bye bye for now." he laughs, patting me on the head, easily prying my little fingers off.


    He really does run left, but too slow. Too loud. Not like him at all.


    "Got one!" another hidden pair of men scoop the running kid up. Easy for the picking.


    "You''re very silly." Amar giggles at them.


    "Oh, you know what. I''ll chop your hands off for free." Yuna growls out, getting distracted by Amar''s ''kidnapping''.


    "Come on, It will be fun? " Amar waves at the not so secret guard the split second before he disappears with the kidnappers. A setup path already established in their plans.


    The secret guard sighs, bringing a gloved hand to this masked face as if to rub his temples.


    And like same, what a mood.


    If it wasn''t obvious enough, it''s official now. My minion is heavily brain damaged. He can''t operate like a normal fear feeling child. Please don''t even talk about common sense.


    "Take me back to the others and send a unit to follow after him, sheesh!" I order up, unseeing of all the guards but knowing without a doubt they''re there.


    Unlike a certain very dumb child, I am not in the mood to play stupid games with child kidnappers. Thus I obviously choose to step forward with my own family guards. Duh


    One step though has me almost slipping on something strange. A little lump on the floor.


    I lift my foot and scream for dear life.


    "AHHHHH! DOLL?! bAD DOLL?!!? BAD PONYO-CORA-ANABELLE!!!!? Ahhhhhh!!!" I screech.


    Not just at the sudden appearance of the quite possibly haunted doll on the floor. But it''s appearance!? Red short hair, little blue and white dress, tiny sailor hat? Why is it dressed like me?! hOW IS THAT POSSIBLE!?AAAAAHHHHH!!!


    Somehow, the floor breaks below my feet after I jump away in shocked fear. Being that this is a port, there''s plenty of water around and down before. However, it should not be so shoddily built to the point of breakage?


    "Got the girl!" a small speedboat already propels me away before I even land, not in the cold bay water but a barely cushioned cage.


    What. The. Fuck?!


    "Just look at those clothes on that one. Man wonder how much she''ll be worth?" laughs one of the goons.


    Do they not even know who I am? Me?! Did the stupid trash just kidnap me without knowing who I am?


    "...Um..is it just me or is this kid kinda....scary?" one of them points out.


    "You will die." I do not threaten, but merely tell them the truth through the little bars of my cage.


    "...Meh, it''s a little rich girl. Not even old enough for baptism. What don''t tell me you''re scared of babies now?" the driver laughs.


    "I don''t know boss, I get this kinda bad feeling, " a third one raises.


    "Just throw a blanket over it if it scares you too much. Man red hair? Even if we can''t get a good ransom, she could sell for quite a bit on the southern slave market for that alone. Good face, looks to be a beauty, we''ll make a killing regardless. "


    "You will all die painful gruesome deaths, and that''s if you''re lucky" I repeat their fates again, and this time they really do throw a blanket over my cage.


    In the darkness, I am forced to calm myself down and go over my survival plans.


    While I have predicted I may get kidnapped again, with my identity, I did not think it would be like this.


    "There are more. A lot more," I repeat a certain brat''s words to myself out loud, piecing together all the clues.


    Amar didn''t mean these creepy goons. Kids. He meant kids. There are more being kidnapped today, not just us! And the fact that we got taken means we''re being brought to the holding, where others may be.


    Oh ho ho Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out. Rosalia is here!


    Whoa! Okay standing up was a bad idea, cage is rocky in boats. Oh wait no, I''m being moved?


    Pulling away the edges of the blanket, I can peek and see ocean water and a much larger ship. One that''s currently being loaded with the speed boat.


    The main holding. Oh ho ho ho! I knew it.


    One stupid thing I don''t understand is how the kidnappers can get away with it. Can''t people just see and follow their stupid speed boat as they take their victims aboard this specific ship. Sure it''s floating out in open water but it''s still followable, right?


    Or is there some device going on that cloaks them? But even if it did, one could see the water trails momentarily left?


    Curiously I tap down through the cage.


    Nope. Nothing. Can''t feel a thing. Is it because there''s no Lilyanne to source me with magic? Pffft this sucks. I knock again and nada.


    "Did the buoy malfunction? It was kinda funny during the ride" one of the goons asks.


    "Meh, best to take a break and get the boats looked after. It''s fine, we probably made more a profit with the two rich ones than any of the others. " the driver''s deeper voice sounds out.


    "I''ve never seen clothes that detailed or fine?" a new voice comes out.


    "Or a kid that creepy...he''s very cute, no lie, I can think of some private buyers that would take him right away but....he was just smiling and laughing at us the whole time." another sounds to be shaken.


    "Don''t worry about it. Even nobles have a few loose screws. You should see the little redhead girl we caught. She kept trying to threaten we were going to ''die''. Ahaha! Hilarious! "


    My cage rocks as it gets darker and darker on board. Soon to the point where there''s no need to even peek through the blankets. The air getting damper and more disgustingly foul. Whimpers and cries of not just small children but young attractive sounding women. Their sobs quite distinctive, very Lilyanne like.


    Oh ho ho! What a big operation we have going on here?!


    "Alright. The little prime cut meats can stay in here. Don''t want you too bruised up either way. "


    My cage is slid, one side opening enough for me to crawl out to a small hay-covered cell. A single tiny porthole window of alabaster or bone letting in murky sunlight.


    "Rosa! You came after all? Knew you wanted to play." Amar was already sitting in place, a tiny hamster in the middle of all this hay.


    When I wobble out, he crawls over to help cushion the blow.


    Urh, I think I''m already a little seasick from the speedboat, or just the moving me in general. Please don''t transport kids by a cage. Really bad time.


    "Ah, over here. Do you have a water flask in your baggie?" the kid pulls me into the darker corner, away from any guarding eyes.


    I nod, trying to hold in my nausea. Though I feel like I should just vomit all over him. Just for thinking this was a good idea to get involved in, at all.


    A game? I''ll show you a game if it wouldn''t be so disgusting to live with my own sickness all over this small space. It''s smelly enough in here.


    "Here, eat this and wash it down. Say ahhh." he holds an herbal smelling pill in front of my mouth.


    I pout and puff my cheeks.


    "Ahhh. Rosa? It''s not tasty but it will make you feel better? Please? Ahhh. And this one too." he stuffs it into my mouth regardless, and I claw at him even though I swallow down the medications.


    Too bad my little well maintained nails were just cut and no use at all.


    "Are you having fun? Is this the fun game? News flash, it''s not fun at all. " I kick a bundle of hay after I choke down some water. With a rightfully dramatic hand, I gesture to the holding barely illuminated by our window.


    It''s true that our modest cell is the most luxurious of all. Every other one is filled with people. Kids. Women. All young and helpless. Some are fighting among themselves, but for the most part, they cry. Curled up into themselves and various stages of health. Some have clearly been in here far longer than just today.


    "Of course this isn''t the fun part? This is the sad part. Ah, I think Yuna will be sad if he sees this. I hope not too much?" Amar nods, eyes scanning the scene through what we can see through the cage.


    "...how much do you know about what happened to Yuna?" I finally ask, maybe at the wrong time


    But when is ever the right time for a topic like that?


    "I don''t know? How much do you know? Are we even supposed to know?" the kid crosses his legs and tilts his head.


    I facepalm for lack of an answer. The most obvious one is no, no we''re not.


    "I don''t want Yuna to be sad. He acts mad a lot, but really it''s just because he''s scared and sad. He doesn''t like chains. He doesn''t like people calling him pretty or thinking he''s a girl. He sleeps with his knives and daggers. Like me, he likes sleeping next to walls. Because that''s one more safe spot, and no one can get you on that side. " Amar counts off, his words dragging out.


    I look over to where his line of sight seems to be. Seeing nothing but crying women and children.


    A young child, smaller than me, sobs into his mother''s arms, wailing. It does nothing but get a guard to yell at them to shut up. The noise startles the toddler and the mother tries her best to muffle the child''s cries.


    "Stupid baby." Amar seems to say.


    Two guards and another man point, discussing something between themselves. They make to open the cell containing the crying child, pulling him away from the begging mother. She pleads with them, pulled up for a split second. As if her wish was granted. Only to be dragged out the cell herself, a guard and the man carrying her kicking and screaming up and away to the surface, the child taken elsewhere. Somewhere more soundproof.


    "Really stupid." Amar finally breaks his gaze on that horrifying sight. As if he understood everything that could possibly happen. Things no child should know.


    "Rosa? Can I borrow one of your knitting needles?" he asks me politely.


    A strange scent finally registers to me, one much more pleasant than the waste and musk the damp hay soaked up. It was already that way for a while, slowly getting stronger since I arrived. Looking over quickly, I notice how much of the cells next to us has already fallen asleep.


    "You?" I look over to my cellmate.


    The medicine I just ate? It wasn''t just for motion sickness, was it.


    "Needle please?" he asks again.


    "No need" I huff at him, picking the stupid oversized lock myself.


    I keep more than just knitting crafts in my purse. Sheesh. To think I''d be using my commission skeleton key ring so soon, and here of all places. There are only so many unique combinations in medieval warded locks. Lucky for me, these backward warded locks are much easier to break through than modern ones. You can''t skeleton key those.


    Nor can you skeleton key anything in my own house, but hey that''s a good thing. It''s everyone else that''s behind, and I''ll use that to my own benefit.


    "Ah, I knew it. Having you along is a lot more fun." the brain-damaged brat rains on the praise as the locks click open.


    It''s because he''s too brain-damaged. That''s why he looks so sad like he knows a little too much of everything. That''s all. Just that.


    "It isn''t fun idiot. Now what?"


    "I don''t know?" he lies.


    Already pulling us out and closing the cell gate back quietly, Amar pressing down on my head to indicate we need to keep low.


    Not too hard with all this hay everywhere.


    "Go unlock everyone, I''ll take care of the guard?" he whispers to me lightly.


    There''s a lot I can complain about this very bad plan, but I nod and agree none the less. With that we split up, or more like he runs off while I go do the actual saving. I start with the sleeping snoozing cells, creaking the gates open just a bit for anyone inside to notice. Should they wake up.


    Ah yes, a horrible cursed slave ship. Taken apart by two kiddos in sailor suits. Yep. Definitely how I saw my day going.


    Maybe I should have waited for mother and father to take me after all?


    "Eep, huh?"


    "Ssshhhhhh!" I make a similar type of silent warning to people in still awake cells. Strangely it''s always children who notice me first, if at all. Maybe due to our similar small sizes and statures.


    "Ssssshhh" I keep motioning for silence, but unfortunately, not everyone is born with a brain.


    "We''e saved!"


    "Please, hurry!"


    "A noble?! So tiny!"


    "Me next!"


    Is there something wrong with the IQs of these people? I get it''s a different world and all with different education standards but... seriously! Isn''t it just common sense not to scream out like that!? No wonder you were all so easily caught!?


    Thankfully I am not caught from everyone''s stupid screaming and cheering. For there is not a single guard or slaver on the floor.


    That brat is a little too effective.


    "Quiet and careful. Do you all want to be caught right away? Be loud again and I leave you here, you''ll only get in the way. Remember, one more sound!" I hiss, threatening with the still locked bars.


    Once I got every gate unlocked, so people could at least leave their cells, reunited with others across bars or staggering to the hallways over being trapped in there, I make may up. Slowly. Carefully. Threatening people once more if they make noise we''ll all be caught.


    It''s very unlikely that people would or should listen to a toddler, but the weight of a ''noble'' carries an unreasonable amount of power and expectations. Just by the way I talk and dress, people already expect more from me despite my age. The young women have these children hushed and listening. Though they do seem to be getting drowsier and sleepier.


    Worrisome but convenient.


    The ship rocks violently, and I''m glad my motion sickness doesn''t kick in.


    "Unforgiveable! Taking my sidekicks is a big NO NO!!!!" it rocks me to the other side, a little high pitched voice resounding from outside far more worrisome than any slavers.


    It can''t be. But it is.


    I poke my head out to the surface of the ship, the battleground I really was better off missing out on.


    A human cannonball whizzes right by me, thrown at a great force. Ice chunks litter the sea. Seagulls pecking and attacking every working man on this ship.


    "Yaaaaay! Smash smash grampy smash!" an even more terrifying voice rings out up high. I dare look and see nothing but a spot of yellow, like the sun itself.


    But no, it is not the sun. It is Lilyanne, a ball of puffy yellow in her baby chick onesie.


    Even worse, and far more distracting, is the man carrying her.


    Tall, broad shoulder, his silhouette dramatically shadowing across the ship up high. All in...a white chicken onesie. Or is he a rooster?


    Either way, I feel like fainting.


    "Rosa!" my sister points out, spotting me with eagle eyes despite the considerable distance from mast to where I found my way onto the open deck.


    "Ah yes, that''s where the tracker was beeping! Good job my little heroine Rosalia! So young yet so ready to drop everything and save all these innocent people!" the mighty rooster jumps down. Full superhero cool pose with his knee bent and squatting.


    Realistically that landing has to hurt or at least be bad for one''s knees. But when has anything ever made sense in this world? Let alone with these characters?


    "My sidekicks! Not yours! Bad, go get your own! But not like this!" sailor Lukas goes charging through some not so imposing kidnappers.


    Maybe because he has iced part of the deck completely to his advantage, causing people to slip and slide all over the place.


    "Remember to melt all that ice before the ships come aboard Lukas-poo" Grampa calls out after him, picking me up in his other arm.


    "Rosa no fair! Rosa run off without Lily!" my sister complains, looking extra cute with her bangs braided and hair done underneath the yellow chick hood.


    "...I''m...no fair....you went with Gable! I know it! " I yell back, feeling all my frustrations come to the surface since I''m unable to deal with ...this.


    "No fair no fair, Rosa bad. " Lily cries.


    "Now now girls, let''s focus on saving the day first. Then you can fight for dominance!" grampa laughs at us, bringing up to the front of the overtaken ship. Being sailed back to port with great fanfare.


    From there I can see uncle Geoff, looking far too old and tired for this, stuck steering the ship. Somewhere on the side, Tamera laughs like a crazy bird lady, flinging bird feed at the army of seagulls and pelicans. Down by the sides of the ship, smaller boats flank. On the closest leading one I can see Georgie, screaming and pointing in his little bear butler suit at a not so secret guard.


    The only people I can''t account for are....Yuna...and of course Amar.


    "Secured!" another newly familiar voice sounds out.


    I look up to see the flutter of long fluffy black skirts, kept modest by boots and layers underneath. A strange figure of maid cosplay dreams holding an automatic crossbow and magical communication device. Her normally long braided dark hair pinned up and ribboned properly.


    A maid. A dream victorian maid stands there in the glory of wind, waves and ...bear ears!!!


    Ah, maybe today was a bad day to mandate my punishment outfits for the onesies. At least the maid dress suits Cass very well. Even much more so than Abbey. So cool looking, even with the cute teddy bear attachments.


    "Not bad newbie! Keep up the good work!" Grampa gives her a close to a compliment as one of his station can give.


    I wish I can say it''s all better. The day is saved. Eventually the ship docks with great security but even greater fanfare. Onlookers all witnessing the drama and excitement of such a capture and crime.


    They cheer even harder when grampa steps off, recognizable even in a chicken suit. It''s made all the worse with Lilyanne and me in each arm.


    If people didn''t recognize me before, they most certainly do now.


    I wish I could say it was all ok. Because it is. I was never in any real danger and so many people were saved this way.


    "Amar? And Yuna? Where are they? " I clamor over grampa''s shoulder


    I know they''re still missing because I can still hear Lukas. Running around shouting the other boy''s name like they''re playing a shipwreck game of hide and seek.


    "If I tell you not to worry about it, would you listen?" Grampa asks of me. His most vulnerable side only shown when in a crowd, playing the smiling fool.


    "Of course not. They''re my minions. " I say quietly, even if my voice is drowned out in all the noise.


    "If it hurts. If it''s something they''re not willing to share, or let you near, what can you do? Even animals hide their wounds. " grampa walks off, taking me further and further away from the ship.


    "....More than this. I can do more than leave them alone to lick their wounds. They''re too stupid. " I tell him into his ear, maybe more to myself than anything. I hardly notice with my grip goes white into the cloth of his stupid shoulder.


    "Takes time darling. Give them time to trust you, or decide if they want to at all. " grampa hums.


    "....I don''t want to know, do I? What happened to either of them." is what I understand.


    "It''s not up to you my Rosie girl. "


    I can see from the entrance at bridges and planks are drawn, the grateful survivors lining out. Among them, I even see a bedraggled mother and child, still sobbing but together.


    I don''t see my minion or grumpy teenager. I have a feeling I won''t for another mysteriously unknown amount of time.


    "Unfortunately, I already invested a little too much money and information on those henchmen. Grampa....can you check up on them then? When this is over? "


    "..... yeah. Yeah sure pumpkin. "


    The way he says it, the pause in his voice, tells more than I need to know. That he already knows exactly how bad it is. That he''s seen it before.


    And here I am playing baby, able to do nothing.


    Yuna''s right to call me a princess. All I do is be served, and then in the far off future, be punished for it.


    "Oh my babies! What troubles have you caused now! Rosalia what did you do?! Oh!!!" mother''s voice comes rushing up, ready to suffocate us.


    "My love, please don''t run like that." father naturally follows.


    The sight of Lady Ventrella, my honorable mother, bouncing up to smother us in gross affection is becoming oddly familiar to me as well.


    But what is she wearing?!!


    "How could you be running off like that? You''re far too young and cute to be playing ''hero''! Oh! What to do with you?!" a green ferocious fuzzy T-Rex comes at me, chomping down.


    Who is responsible for all the onesies and how do I best punish them?


    Are we still in public? Oh yes, yes we are. Our noble family image is further smeared in the great crazy. Wonderful.


    Caring for myself is hard enough? How can I afford to look after others? Ah such a headache. How to cope with this all?


    "You''re late. " I throw back, accusing as well as distracting them.


    "You''re all late! And I''m very hungry from all this activity? How could you?! You said we''d go together and then you didn''t. Are you nothing but deceiving liars?! Hmmpf!" I fake being mad, redirecting my frustrations.


    "Liars!" Lilyanne repeats, pointing to my parents.


    "Disgusting! Cruel beyond belief. Absolutely horrible examples of parenting for not taking us to the festival on time. Right Lilyanne."


    "Disgusting!" she parrots.


    "Are we going to dawdle, soaking in your lies, or will you be making it up to us. Me and your innocent suffering daughter?" I pull at my sister.


    With some very....exasperated looks at each other, my parents give in and proceed to not make trouble. Leaving the issues of the ship, and any souls still on it, in peace to their misery.


    I continue on with my strange and oddly pleasant day. For that''s the best I can do. And it''s fun, it''s actually sincerely fun despite the oddity that is this strange family.


    I drink a lot of juice and try not to remember any bitter aftertastes of medicines taken today.


    Especially after grampa patted my head and said he was off, his own work of cleaning up and even taking Lukas home. Whatever that meant. Because Lukas very well invaded the port festival grounds again, running straight to my mother in tears with a broken swordfish blade and a trail of angry shop keepers after him.


    The festival was more than a success and public event. Security is a brand new concern, but public fear squashed in today''s display.


    Today was so strange and fun that I fell asleep there, most likely in my father''s arms, without even noticing it. And that''s that. I can only focus on my own life, lending out a hand and key where I can. That''s that.


    Nothing more.


    I hope it''s enough.

 143 Lets not go there

    Early in the morning, I checked up on my businesses in the making. Some research projects and stock inventory at home. I touched bases with Abbey, Georgie, the various kitchen staff, even communication through the troop''s kitchen line.


    Mr. Boar is doing fine in the troop''s bakery, aka he''s been anxious for my return to the troops for quite some time. He believes the revolution of bread is among us. Something about the livestock feed that I bought once turning out unexpectedly delicious when ground up.


    Well, he''s a little confused but he''s got the right spirit.


    I also went to extra mile to even check if my minions were accounted for and not, oh say, rotting in a slave ship somewhere.


    Just a few extra steps, I wasn''t worried or anything. Just making sure grampa was actually doing what I told him and not fucking off the prance around in the woods in his new onesie or something. And that''s keeping me up to date on my servents until the day I get trackers on all of the troublesome ones.


    Sure Yuna was kinda very twitchy when I inquired. But he''s whole and busy, stuck with reports to fill on what he did for this unexpected operation. Very unexpected.


    I don''t really know what to expect out of this life anymore. But at least we get written reports to fill the supervisors in. Get to it grumpy cat!


    Meanwhile, Amar has been sleeping like the dead.


    All locked up in some maximum security remodeling of the sickbay. Probably sedated and on something. For he did not wake up no matter how many pinches and wacks I had at him.


    How did I know my minion ended up in the sickbay?


    I just stalked followed the clues, the congregation of guards, the gossip whispered in the halls, and forced actual info out of grampa. Easy. Using the kitchen ding bell system it was easy as cake sneaking into the sickbay long enough to see for myself. Duh.


    It is a tad concerning that my minion has landed himself in the sickbay, again. But what can be done about brain damaged brats who run off to get in trouble?


    I''m pretty sure he just died in my other life. Just went and got himself killed really stupidly or something. But that could go for the majority of people. Statistically, they''re just more likely to die than anything.


    I''m not too worried though, since someone must have had enough sense to stick him into my family''s sickbay. What a luxury? Hey, kid do you know how impossible it is to pass our gates let alone use up our facilities like that. For now though, despite my choice in words, the minion is not dead but merely sleeping. Very very very deeply.


    I even put baked cinnamon twists I snuck up under his cute little nose, to no reaction!


    That''s how I know he''s truly dead to the world.


    I just chalk everyone''s oddity up to the nonsense fantasy magic of this world.


    I munch on the cinnamon twists I brought up. I fake cry that my mother is coming. I slap him again for avoiding my interrogation. I even pinch his nose and smother his breathing with a pillow.


    Yep, Amar is definitely dead.


    From my slapping inspection, I see the kid is at least not injured, albeit drugged unconscious. Hmm, mochi cheeks are softening just a bit. The make Amar gain weight plan seems to be going along slow and steady.


    I get one more half a slap more in before the not so secret masked guards show up, pulling me back out the bay.


    "Please don''t do that, my young mistress." says tall, dark and definitely handsome under there.


    They didn''t have to deliver me straight to Alfonso though, sheesh. They even confiscated my snacks! Improve the manners to your young miss!


    At least my direct minions are ok or at least accounted for. Good enough! For now.


    And so I continued with the rest of my day.


    So far so good right? Wait for it.


    It was a pleasant enough time feeding and practice walking my horse, without the weight of guilt of juggling work stress. Isn''t that nice? When you can go about the day without that lingering fear you''re forgetting something or have an assignment due.


    Just a lovely autumn day with me and my Adorita.


    Ok and I guess the nerd too.


    Father was also momentarily free, relieved of his great suffering pleasure that is his work. And so he could take me down to my Adorita''s stable, purse full of carrots and other horsie snacks.


    I sincerely must hide my snacks well, for they seem to be confiscated quite a lot lately. I wonder why?


    Not that I need my father''s permission to go out or anything. Not like the guard actually have permission to pop out, redirect and shoo me away from certain places now. It''s just a lot easier with my Lord father escorting.


    I''m not grounded or anything.


    I didn''t even do anything wrong. Why should I be grounded?! Gimmie back my freedom and snacks!


    "In case one, as the reports go: You, my sharp little Chip, in full knowledge, ran away from the guards and into the captor''s getaway. This is after being presented with not only your safety routes but in full view of other terribly horrid influences getting nabbed. Something I hate to admit but have full confidence in you doing. " father walks one of the practice horses slowly by the reigns, threatening me from my precarious perch on top.


    I would be solo riding if not for his hold. Leading the horse from the ground in a leisurely enough walk. Round and round the indoor lot already. Even though it''s still a perfectly good day outside to ride off.


    But alas I am not given that permission, nor is my center of balance all that stable yet.


    See the horse saddle is very big and slippery, even with this strange seatbelt, and my legs are very short.


    "Father! I''m innocent. A kidnapping ring and slave ship is very awful, and I am glad they''re caught, but I didn''t conspire to make such trouble. Who would have known!?" I complain, clopping along the stupid pony ride.


    Release me. Let me go. I wish to ride like the wind, even if this is not one of my horses. Okay maybe not the wind, how about a slight pleasant breeze?


    But I''m not even allowed off the horse, or out this ring. Sometimes it''s very inconvenient being so wealthy. To not even be allowed to ride outside, because we have our own indoor arena for riding and practice.


    It''s very stuffy like this. In all this protective gear. I know more than enough to know this is not standard horse riding gear. Yet here I am, puffed and padded.


    This is a very interesting form and setting of interrogation. Certainly novel.


    This dangerous balance of tall horse and not being able to do anything but sit there suffocating.


    Truly father is a master at awkward and uncomfortable interrogations. I''m getting off easy.


    "Case two then, my unreasonably wise and troublesome beyond her years Rosalia. Is that you are too young, vulnerable and foolish to be anywhere without easily getting kidnapped. So very easily it''s in fact extremely difficult. Hmmm?" father gives me the alternative, upping the threat of my grounding.


    I gulp.


    "....I, in full knowledge, did not get kidnapped but snuck aboard and took down a kidnapping ring. " I nod and lie, reluctantly accepting the cover story that gets me the least in trouble.


    This is the story that grampa likes best. Crying and spinning me about for my ''heroic'' habits so early on in life.


    I fear he shall be crying this tale to anyone that will listen for weeks. Unfortunately for me, as the grand founder and boss of all the troops....that''s literally everyone employed there. They have no choice.


    The rumor mills are already filling in the details that he missed in his blubbering and mysterious dumbness. Everything from me being sincerely kidnapped and this is a cover-up. To accounts of me ripping apart bars and freeing all the captured prisoners while setting off explosives to call for my hero of a grandfather.


    They''re all terrible, no matter what version is told.


    I realize, belatedly, that my grampa is a sort of troll. A very ultimate chaos-creating troll.


    Who else would come to save the day in a stupid chicken onesie? It''s like he''s pushing himself how far, how stupid, he can go before people starts doubting him.


    But no.


    The problem is that the masses sincerely do not care to use common sense, in fact, they ate it up greedily. Cheers and swoons. If my nightmarish predictions are to be believed, there will soon be a chicken suit craze, and this story will never be erased from common history.


    God damn it.


    "Father. Can I have invested money for a short term business deal? I suspect chicken-themed memorabilia will fetch quite the price this coming season. " I sigh.


    If you can''t beat them, take advantage and profit off of them.


    "No my tiny child reminiscent of a peasant horror story goblin, you may not. We do not bring down the value of your honorable grandfather and the family name with cheap short-sighted endeavors such as novelty items." father says blankly.


    That''s his, ''no it is not up for debate voice'', noble business tone. So I must give up that plan before I even start.


    Fine, we''re a fancy and reputable brand then. Our reputation is always at stake. No official grampa chicken merchandise.


    "Can we at least destroy anyone else who tries to profit off this mockery?" I sigh up upon the old horse. For elderly mares are gentler and tamer to ride.


    "Of course my hellion, what you take your mother''s name for? Burned, unburied, and made an example of. Within reason of course. Do you know those limits Rosalia?" father tests me.


    "No beating up little old grannies. Little old grannies are grampa''s biggest fan club supporters. " I mumble.


    "Well that one of them, and I suppose it shall do. Now straighten your back, we do not slouch in walking position." father leads me into another circle of the pony ride, patting my back and sides terribly until I''m back in the proper position.


    As an experienced horse rider, I know all the positions and moves. Why I even practiced intensely during the summer on the vineyards with grampa! Yet somehow father keeps finding childish fault in everything I do.


    My back is straight I say! It''s just hard to tell under all this fat and squish...and armor?


    "Hold and steady. Less complaining, Rosalia. It does nothing. Focus. You''re sliding to the left, my dear." father tsks, righting me back up.


    ...Also not my fault. The legs and thighs are too small to maintain a good seat. Sometimes I slip and slide a little. Or a lot. This helmet is heavy!


    To the very funny high powers that threw me into this life, as a newborn baby of all things, cursed to suffer through these awkward growing pains again, haha. I hate you.


    "This time to the right. Hmm...what are we to do with you," father pokes me back upright again on the pony saddle.


    I swear I''ll grow.


    After all, I started horseriding lessons sometime around age four. That''s not that far away.


    "I can do it. I rode plenty of times without you supervising. " I huff and defend my teeny tiny sliver of pride.


    It''s all I have against this fiend.


    "Wild bird mounts with your honorable grandfather are very different," he says.


    "Even so. It''s merely the pressure, and your judgment, that have me slipping so much." I counter.


    Why else would someone with my experience and skill level be bullied to this point?


    Father always had this strange effect on the original Rosalia and thus me in this little body at times. Increased heart rate. Stiffness of the face, limbs, and overall great painful discomfort. To the point of getting flustered or near choking.


    Ah fear. An entirely different kind than mother''s but still quite scary!


    Obviously, the pressure is getting to me and affecting my horseback riding. Or just in general. Being watched by a man as darkly intimidating as father does that.


    When he''s not being an absolute nerd that is.


    "Tell me then, Chip. How do whip around and up in your beloved kitchens? Every monstrous culinary chimera that gluttony demands of you to demand yourself? Surely not with these?"


    He means my very short legs, that he so plays with when I roll. Then slides me back straight on the saddle.


    Mockery aside, I understand what he''s trying to make me admit for myself.


    "My limbs are too small, as is my height. My strength is not sufficient for pots, pans, and flames. So I have to have everyone help me. It''s much faster and more convenient to have things done by command. It''s their jobs anyway...." I take no shame in explaining it that way.


    "You''re a noble, my Rosalia. I would be distressed if you didn''t know how to submit orders and requests. That''s how we get things actually done. What we''re trusted and trained to do where others cannot. If I were to labor over each and every task to be done, on my own, I''d be dead and dust many times over. "


    "...That''s because you overwork with too many projects. " I mutter stubbornly.


    "...Ah yes. How I envy the commons, who frolic in the wilds to gather branches, to chop into wood, to fuel the fires they must light, all before they can have their morning tea. Tea very different than our own imports. For they must gather themselves, from local herbs in the ground, then dry, then store properly in houses that may or may be secured. Drunk out of cups they must carve from wood or beasts, if not badgered, bartered or perhaps even bought from the potters! What a novel concept, buying or trading things. Potters they meet by chance or relations. Who must walk and gather their clay to-"


    "I get it father!"


    "With their little ovens and plants and butter churners, sleeping in barns with their own farm animals. How provincial. No queue of cases nor administrative work. What is paperwork? Can they even afford paper? How is-"


    "I''m sorry father. I was wrong. I get it. I get that we all need help and that help is a good thing. I''ll stop complaining about it!"


    "Truly?" father sounds like he doesn''t believe me.


    "Yes!" I yell out, in case he rambles on about how paper or potter is made.


    "If only....but if we all could run off to our prancing peasant fantasies in the woods, giving up every responsibility not only placed on us by implicated and weighed by connection, oh wherever would we be?" father ponders.


    Off topic I believe. In fact, is that a Gable call out? Or my own?


    Excuse me for fantasizing about a picture-perfect fantasy hobbit life with Gable. Where I don''t have to worry about a thing but the simple life, even if there are inconvenient chores. I''m sure I''m not alone there.


    I mean just look at grampa! That unjust, unfair, crazy old man. Hogging Gable and intruding on all his precious time. Making himself way too at home in the hobbit house.


    Just who does he think he is?!


    Ah but I suppose I need the crazy old man to help maintain that connection link. I don''t know what exactly he''s doing in this lifetime that''s forcing Gable to show up so much, willingly, but I''ll take it.


    I''d rather have these peeks and chance encounters than nothing at all. Not like last time. If I''m so frustrated about what I don''t know right now, god, I don''t know how I handled it before.


    "Chip? ...There''s nothing wrong with wanting. " father addresses my pouting silence.


    "You may want anything your heart desires, and upon requests, and within reason, we shall do what we can to provide. But you must understand that often, the gap between want and application, is momentous. Let alone reality. And that nothing is free. A cost, a sacrifice, goes into anything and everything. Every choice. And that''s if you can afford it." he goes with our excursion.


    Almost mindlessly if I didn''t know any better. An always busy man with time more effectively spent elsewhere.


    If I wasn''t so selfish, I would bad for wasting it. But here I am. And here this nerd is wasting his own life, and chances for direct advancements of power.


    Things are veering off in ways I don''t yet know are good or bad yet.


    "I apologize for being impatient, father. I understand my small size and history are not very impressive to work with....but if I don''t move, don''t try, I won''t get anywhere. "


    "Anywhere as in...uncouth pirate ships and uncharted forests in lands afar? My my my, whatever is wrong with the little nest that home. The only place for hatchlings to appropriately be." father annoyingly leads me round and round.


    Over the little steps and rings of this indoor arena. All perfectly in the reigns on his hand. As if he were escorting me through a simplistic version of a dance, or well, the horse that I''m on.


    "...no? Not that. I don''t mean that." I admit that much.


    "Of course dear." father plays along.


    Because it''s not my home. And I can''t stay.


    Maybe mother and father can accept me for another short few years. Maybe they can stand the waves of the public discord towards me. After all, they still kept me despite the foreboding warning that was my baptism even a lifetime ago.


    But that was only for their own purposes, and upkeep of our name and honor? It wouldn''t do to just throw me away then. It wasn''t as bad yet. I was still useful in my own ways.


    But that will run out eventually. The cost I''ll incur isn''t profitable in the long term.


    I don''t mean just money.


    I''m more trouble than I''m worth. Always have been.


    Always.


    This is supposed to be a crueler and more violent world than my own. But thanks to my position, I don''t face any of that yet. Poverty. Abuse. Those terribly vulnerable situations that the powerless face every day. I''m grateful to be wealthy and have capital. I''ll use it well.


    Before it''s my time to go.


    I just don''t know when that will be. The longer the better. Because it benefits me more because I''m selfish like that.


    I was selfish then too. Not as Rosalia, not as a villainess in any strange world. Just as myself.


    I have always been horrible cruel, ruthless, and self-centered. Everything I do is for myself, my own desires.


    I couldn''t do it then. When I was nothing but a 14-year-old girl. I couldn''t sacrifice myself like that. I couldn''t save anyone. Even worse, I took the chance to wring it for all it''s worth. I threw my own parents under the trainwreck. Ran away and reported everything, refused to relent or release my jaws till I sued and ruined everything.


    Even my affections to my one family member, the only one I could keep and call mine. It''s my own selfishness, my own ego, and feelings of abandonment, that kept me from leaving Heng-Fei. We siblings were in the same boat. Left behind. Useless after a point. After I could no longer show my face. After he couldn''t walk anymore.


    It was the only way my shitty pride could allow me to live.


    A part of me wishes I could be a better more normal person, but no. I can''t change something that''s so much a core part of me.


    At most, I can somewhat pity the poor saps that get used and abused by me. Willingly at that.I really pity that entire family I crashed into and imposed on. They just couldn''t quite get rid of me for years to come.


    In fact, wasn''t that the start? The day my parent sold me out, no more than cattle. Than a whore. All I was good for apparently. The day I would rather not remember. The day I became truly heartless.


    The day my life went down the shit drain for good was the day I first met them.


    Silly stupid bossman. Dragging a wet mess home for his poor family to clean up, no questions asked. That''s how I first really met all of them.


    Him.


    ...Let''s not go there.


    "Too far to the front there Rosalia. You''re entirely slumped over. Well, it can''t be helped. "


    Before I notice it, father has led this pony ride back to the start. Right into the stable pen. While undoing the many bundles and belts, he unclicks and unfastens me from the heavy seatbelts on my saddle. Eventually freeing me from the trapped constraints.


    "I understand the lesson you''re trying to remind me of. Of my own lacking, and aid as needed. But is this really necessary?" I motion stiffly in all my padding, having no choice but to wait until father sets me down and undoes all this.


    I feel like a car crash dummy like this. So warm, so poofy.


    "Absolutely. The chances of you getting into another accident are, unfortunately, guaranteed without the proper precautions. " father pats the pillowy cushion of all my armor, finally taking off the stupidly oversized helmet from my little head.


    "Ah that''s much better, but there was really no need. I was sweating in that thing. Now the rest of me!" I shake and urge him to hurry from all these uncomfortable restraints.


    "Do bear with it, if nothing but for our own peace of mind. " father chuckles, settling me down elsewhere to undo the padding and armor.


    "I would be fine in here." I gesture to the indoor arena, attached to a few of the stables. Plenty of stable hands, servants, and trainees to be my cushion and witnesses.


    "You could be. Or you could be met with a frightful incident involving beasts that weigh, at minimum, 66 times your body weight. Now assuming you were sitting, that would still be enough to squish out your delicate little life-bearing organs." he snaps for a couple of stablehands.


    For me, and me only, a little show has been prepared. One presents a fruit, a simple little orange. The other has a metallic weight, to which he drops and murders the innocent orange in a juicy pulpy splatter.


    "Assume you were merely stepped on, whipped with a loose tail, piece of equipment, or my the heavens forbid, fallen off a horse at even a walking speed. Let along a prancing or riding one." father continues, sentencing even more oranges to their gruesome fates.


    The stable hands working to demonstrate with the appropriate analogies and tools. Round little oranges rolling away to their juicy deaths. He even has riders lined up like a science experiment. Massacring the fruits as they take off and drop them at the stampedes


    Orange juice is everywhere, but not in the way I would prefer to enjoy.


    "Um..." I am lost on how to respond.


    When did father get the time, or incentive, to prepare this?


    "How grand it is, that we humans have a bit more will and regenerative abilities. But still, it is a sorry state to be in. My dear little Chip, should such an injury occur you would be bound far worse than this mere protective layer. Why you would be dead, if not bed bound and wrecked with the fevers of recovery." he presents to me as he unbuckles my padding and swaps out my little riding boots for cute house slippers once more.


    As he pokes and pulls at my little feet, bloody fruit decorating the space, I can''t help but admire my father''s interrogation and threatening techniques. What creativity! What theatrics! Oh the drama.


    Yes I can certainly see how another child, say my little sister, could be life long terrified at this simple yet messy display. They even fed a grapefruit to a steed, to showcase what could happen to my little head should it be chomped down on.


    A wonderful production of mundane fruit destruction. I am amused for time being. For their efforts, I even grace them with small applause.


    "...This was not the intended effect but also not out of the range of expectations. It can''t be helped I suppose. Note down that my eldest daughter must be exercised daily for two sessions of 10-minute intervals of chaos, daily. This is very important to sate her." father snaps and arranges.


    Two sessions of what now? What kind of P.E. homework is that?


    I believe misunderstandings are rampant in this household. It''s just not worth the effort to clarify them all.


    "I understand father. You fear for the lost investment in combination to my current dark history. But I assure you, that I intend to live a very boring and peaceful life. I do not seek out trouble, but it keeps happening! "


    "...I can see that as I continue seeing evidence contrary. " the nerd does not look impressed in the slightest.


    "If left to my own devices, I would surely be fine. It''s not like I''m going to ride off and be squished up anytime soon." I present my case as clearly as my tongue and teeth will allow.


    My voice sounds a lot more professional in my own head. But the physical reality is that I am very small, with a very toddler squeaky voice, and lisp around an occasional world.


    Expectations and reality. I already know best what the gaps are between them. I don''t need father''s depressing warnings to know that. Even if it comes with a show.


    "Let''s keep it that way. I have a strange sense that it''s not that far off. There is no rest or assurity, either with your mother or you girls involved. That I am sure of." father sighs, refuting my words.


    Excuse you. I have never fallen off a horse in my life! Ever!


    ...Okay there was that one time, in the last lifetime. But only because Alfonso would never let it go. Rosalia hardly remembers that, so not much I can work from there. Just that she was very young, even before getting Adorita, and woke up in that original sickbay afterward.


    Hmm...what was she doing getting injured on a horse at that age anyway? Didn''t I start lessons at age four?


    Meh, it''s probably the nerd''s fault or something.


    Well that''s his problem then. Not mine. Go stress yourself out for all I care. I''m nothing but a selfish little girl right now, the spoiled eldest young miss of house Ventrella.


    At least I''m cute, that part of me also has not changed. Selfish and cute. What more could you expect? I''m your unfortunate spawn after all, there''s only so much that can be done with this DNA. Trust me, the original Rosalia was not any better.


    Sometimes I think my host and I are just too similar. Sometimes I think she''s getting stronger, taking over at all the wrong times. Such a strange oddly compatible little girl.


    At least I can take all the petty revenge for her as pleased. Somehow I think she''d approve.


    "Father, I want orange juice. In a glass and not splattered over the floors." I demand, pushing it.


    "Juice that must be preseed and squeezed by some force I suppose. From specific monoculture fruit collected by hand. Grown from trees cultivated by farmers or the like. Grown over seasons by trees of a certain age growth, whose seeds-" he goes on, taking it in his own way.


    "Father!" I complain.


    Get to it Lord nerd. You''ve got work to do while I still have my petty reigns on this house. Oh ho ho ho!


    "Oh ho ho~ Oh darling! it''s time~"


    Wait that''s not my voice. Definitely not my voice, too terrifying for that.


    Mother slams the indoor stable range door a little too harshly. The metal doors resounding heavily into the walls. The sudden pounding screeching sound is almost as high and frightening as her laugh.


    Immediately, reflexively, I hop into the nerd''s coat and jacket for fear of anything and everything.


    A crisp chill is already in the air. Shivering cold in the mornings and evenings, while still sunny hot midday. An awkward and precarious balance of the changing of seasons. Winter is approaching soon and we''ll be shut up in the home property once again.


    How cozy and peaceful, if a bit boring. Not bad at all.


    So why do I get the warning danger signals in my head?


    Mother is looking especially pretty today. In a lovely new gown, I haven''t seen before. It drapes and coils but not indecently so, despite the too generous bosom that is natural under the tastefully expensive collar and shawl. In fact, the jewels that drape mother''s skin sparkle despite the lack of light. The testament to the cut, craftsmanship, and pure money in their worth.


    Like a Godness of wealth. Filthy sexy money a mere shawl over the enviable youth and beauty that is already hers.


    Oh no, she''s dressed to go out.


    "Time for what now, beauty above all, my splendor and spoils? Maria, my gracious keeper, you could bring nations to their knees with your face alone. In your finery, mere mortals as lowly as myself lose all ability to produce words worthy in response." sweet words from the fiend to bring forth a sweeter smile in mother''s glowing face.


    Father craftily backs away, getting abandoned by every and all employees as they run, hide or bow and cower for their lives. I too, realize my mistake too late. I should have ran with the tide, with them. But instead, I chose the wrong place the hide, the very worst place.


    "Oh ho ho darling, don''t you remember? We must be at Countess Gonzaga for her dinner party! Oh but I do want to make it by tea! All the best ladies'' talk happens over tea. " mother giggles behind her dainty hand, beautiful new fur and lace gloves on display.


    "Ahhh, of course I would never forget a single thing that your fair lips utter. But it appears...that Chip is unwell. Yes. " father coddles me in his hold, and for once I comply. Shaking and whimpering in a headache.


    Headache from everything I ever have to do and remember. In any lifetime.


    Putting aside everything else, and recalling the troublesome network that is the world of nobility. I don''t even need my other life''s memories to know this is going to be a very dull and boring time for ladies at tea. Oh the drama, oh the cat fights, all before everyone shuts themselves up for winter.


    But isn''t that territory a bit far away, one of the borderlines and loyal connections to the Bichierris?


    Oh, my head hurts for real from the implications of whatever social chaos mother must play here.


    "Oh my poor baby! Muah muah, this is what happens when you don''t take your nappies on time as you should. Like your sister! You love to play so, but my darling girls need their rest. " mother pounces on me at once, making me dizzy in kisses and snuggles.


    I get a glimpse of my father''s devastatingly blank face the moment I''m stolen away, a too-quick goodbye to his last line of defense against the dreaded ''dinner party'' of high nobility. Which, if location and connections are to be believed, will more likely than not host if not one than multiple of his siblings and in laws.


    Oh cruel evil plots mother. A checkmate of brute force.


    "Frederick dear~ Clean up and get ready as I tuck Rosalia in. Tsk tsk my Rosalia, see how my little lady gets. There there, mama will tuck you up, nice, clean and well, before leaving. Oh Frederick, will you just stand there and look unfairly gorgeous or shall you be preparing? My devil, my divine, the trails of sweat and exertion are but stardust glimmer on your being, and I fear many a lady would not be able to control their delicate sensibilities should the feast that is your mere image present itself before them." mother instructs, comforts, and threatens all at once.


    What sort of torture is this?!


    "Darling?" mother gives one last warning, before turning to take me up for a bath and nap. Most likely setting all the maids and guards against me in maximum babysitting watch.


    "...yes my love." father is forced to concede, shuffling to clean up for decent society.


    "Oh husband dear, don''t frown and pout. Not like that, you just look too delicate and cute. Kissies?" she stands there, long past pushed his mental limits.


    Father looks to the left, then to the right. He then perhaps glares hard enough for anyone in the visible distance to scram if they haven''t already.


    "Darling? It''s rude to leave a lady leaving?" she whines, taking me with her as she rocks impatiently.


    As if counting to himself, he takes a sigh and a breath, leaning in for a disgusting act of affection. A scandalous meeting of his flushed lips


    Oh but it lands on me, more specifically my face. Ewwww gross! What is wrong with this family and the kisses!?


    "Oh that''s just mean and unfair." mother pouts and whines again, tip-toeing.


    Father attacks again, quicker, but this time on the top of my hair. Made even more disgusting for how much I sweated.


    "Darling!" she sincerely cries, pronouncing each and every syllable.


    "You''re right my love, can''t leave the ladies'' tea waiting. How rude of me. I''ll be off to make myself presentable and ready your carriage at once." he leans to attack my face and sides once more, helpless in mother''s arms, before running off in escape.


    I think I''m being used here. In a way, I never would have been able to foresee. This torture really is too much, far more intense than anyone could have imagined.


    Mother huffs in teary frustration as she wipes me clean and takes me back inside. Something I still don''t understand why she bothers when she could just hand me to a maid. Or even better, let me go on my own!


    Eh whatever. Let them play parents or something since they seem to like it so much.


    "Rosa my eldest baby girl~" mother coos at me, readying my water and pajamas.


    "Yes mother, " I fear.


    "Do you want another baby sister or perhaps a little brother?!" she cheerfully asks, heart in her mouth.


    How terrifying. It''s worse than I thought.


    "None. " I roll over in a towel, hopefully rolling myself away. Far far away.


    "Oh you~...Why must you two be so alike... Oh but if you were to pick, which one? Rosa? Rosalia get back here, you''re not even wearing your nighties! Oh that is not proper!" mother tearfully chases after me as well.


    Today was a decent day. So long as I don''t think too hard, don''t feel too hard, and certainly don''t get caught. By either of this body''s parents.


    The last one I can''t really help against.


    Until the day I can successfully roll away. When I''m actually ready to.


    "Lilyanne no! Didn''t mama put you down for your nappy?! No don''t copy Rosalia in that? Oh what to do with you. Oh no the stairs, not the stairs?! Rosalia!?"


    Time for my daily still needed nap. Until the time I can become a splendid independent villainess. Good day.


    ---


    -----------------


    -------------------------------


    "Let''s not go there"- part


    Back into the modern world. Because there''s plenty that Rosalia does remember without it being induced. Let''s not think about it.


    -------------------------------


    ------------------


    ---


    It was raining rocks outside. The chill of the season growing only colder and colder as night hours crept on them. Cold was underselling it, even if snow and frost had yet to appear on their yearly streets.


    A young 14-year-old girl would have been feeling very awkward right now if it wasn''t so damn cold outside.


    She didn''t realize how cold she was until the thaw of her own limbs left her drained, and in pain. Pale flushing slowly pinker and pinker under the bundle of towels, blankets, and the radiating heater.


    She looks around the strange but warm room, unconsciously taking in everything.


    From the knick-knack items to the low table, cushion seats all over the floor. There''s a slightly outdated slim tv monitor, top of the line maybe 5 or so years ago, hanging from a corner of the wall. Wooden cabinets that could pass off as foreign antiques, but made far too homey with the covers and stuff overflowing.


    The doors themselves were an odd mix of another culture''s traditional and common modern. A wood and paper screen sat by another corner, almost as a room divider. The floors wooden but cushioned in parts by carpet and cushions.


    It looked and felt lived in. As if people came in and out all the time. Leaving their traces and marks stacked up.


    Beads and strings of the friendship bracelet. Someone''s empty glasses case. A half-drunk bottle of a yogurt drink. Too many indoor slippers of too many sizes.


    She took even little detail in as if to sound out her own thoughts. Even the voices outside of this incredibly homey space. Hears it, even if she doesn''t register it. She doesn''t register much of everything.


    "You know when eomma was worried and complaining about you bringing a girl home, I don''t think this is what she meant." comes a dull hushed voice.


    "Oh ew. Bro dude, I was not expecting this from you. She''s totally younger than me, if she''s not actually a ghost that tricked you and we''re all gonna die that is." the next one sounds higher, female.


    "I bet a gwisin, it matches up more." says the first voice, full of nonsense despite his cool tone.


    "Don''t be silly, she has legs and a face. Cute girl too. Poor thing was shivering, like a living human. Not a ghost." says another feminine, albeit much more mature voice.


    "Gwisin. Definitely a drowned water ghost type. We''re gonna die. " the first female ignores her.


    "Not if we catch it. We technically already did." says the other male again.


    "I did not bring home a fucking vengeful ghost." tiredly sighs the second older male.


    "Bro, I don''t know how to make it even more obvious that your singleness dragged in the girl from The Ring into our house. " the young girl says again.


    "If it''s real then...it''s going to kill us." the first male says, a little too excited.


    "Or make us rich!" his sister agrees and adds on.


    "Who needs a ghost when I have all of you to torture me? " the eldest brother groans.


    "That''s enough, there is no ghost....but even if she was a dead wandering spirit, no girl would follow Jung-Hyuk home. Maybe if it was JJ that was the bait? " the eldest sister was no better than the rest of the lot.


    "You all shut up! It''s not like that and you know it. I didn''t mean for this to happen?!" bemoaned the oldest brother again. The only somewhat familiar voice she''s heard before.


    The strange guy that dragged her across town, on foot, in this fucking rain. Through alleys and hidden metro stations, round and round. She thought she was going to die in exhaustion. She''s a student, not a marathon runner.


    The numb, the cold, what just happened. What could have happened? Nothing. She doesn''t want to think about it. About all the implications. Doesn''t want to feel anything.


    She''d rather drown in this goddamn rain.


    Maybe she should have?


    It vaguely registers, that the comfort of warmth and softness is much more comfortable than the world outside. Her slowly drying hair, and damp clothes cling to her skin. It doesn''t feel very good. It doesn''t feel like her at all.


    But what is her in the first place? Does it even matter?


    Probably not.


    Nothing really does anymore. Not even what happens next. She should just count her remaining lucky chances. She doesn''t have much, if any, anymore. Not after that. Not much she was good for.


    Not after what her own parent left her for.


    She feels her own throat closing in. Slams the gates and locks on whatever emotions threaten to overtake her. Focuses on breathing was counterproductive. Focusing on herself only made her more aware, too much so. She almost can''t breathe. Nothing. Nothing but-


    ...the sweet scent of honey?


    The plate slides with a pale little hand, sticky topped bun pastries sitting innocently.


    The air wafts a bit as if just warmed up, golden brown and dripping with a honey top. It probably was. A mug of something steams like a coiling dragon between them. A haze.


    A pair of big brown eyes blink at her from the small distance at the corner of the table, so dark they might as well have been black. Black as a tumbled smooth polished stone. Black as a void. Empty so. They curved sweetly in that emptiness, especially when he smiles. Framed by black lashes and a little mochi soft face.


    They blink again, slowly. As if observing her cautiously, curiously, for a very long time.


    Those little hands peek out slide the plate and mug closer to her, before quickly retreating to his side of the table. He almost hides but stays there. Watching. Waiting. An uncomfortable furrow to the cute line of his young mouth, a hint of worry on that clear forehead.


    Like an adorably funny pet, he reaches out again. Reaching with his entire body to quickly slide the offerings ever the closer. Right up to her, under her nose.


    All before diving himself back down to the minimal protection of the table. Still clearly in view. Acting cute.


    She almost snorted at that.


    His eyes followed the movements of her hand, especially as she carefully reached out to take the offered pastry. If the boy had a tail, she imagines it would be waving along in tune.


    Cute.


    The pastry seemed to deflate with one bite. Soft and fluffy, the sweetness of milk and honey coying on her tongue. Melting into between her teeth as she chews. It was indeed warmed up. So much so she has to huff out a hot breath.


    But it pleased the child so much, she forced herself to hold it back, taking another bite. And another.


    "Oi oi oi look it''s working. That''s the first time she moved?"


    "Told you using J.J. would work. Ghost fucking love using kids. All creepy and shit. "


    "It''s a little late but is our brother at risk of getting possessed or anything? I don''t want eomma after our asses."


    "Oh for the last time, I didn''t bring home a ghost!"


    The hushed voices outside the screen come again. Silly as they were, they get ignored. Right now there really didn''t exist anything or anyone outside this tiny space. Rain pitter-pattered on the windows. Steam curls and escapes the mug.


    Meng takes another honey bun without meaning to. Suddenly realizing that she was in fact hungry, but not realizing it was this bad. Not until the first sugar sweet bite seemed to dissolve down her throat.


    "Ah. Hey, are you one of the living?" the boy asks, leaning his head out to rest against the table.


    He was much more relaxed the moment she started eating. A little shy smile that could have resembled a sly kitty cat, turned sideways, as he repeated his siblings'' question.


    It takes her a little off guard how childishly silly this all was. In a way, it was all very rude. But so was imposing on a stranger''s kindness, stuffing her face with their food. So she''ll let it go. Even it makes her choke a bit on her next bun.


    "That''s good! Here, drink this with it. Yummy? It''s my favorite staple at the shop. Ghosts can''t eat or drink, right? So you''re alive, right?" he smiles, sounding so innocent it''s hard to stay mad.


    Until what the brat has to say next.


    "Hey! Everyone don''t worry, she''s real!" the kid switches between relief, amazement, and cheerful clamoring so quickly the Meng nearly chokes again.


    "Aigoo! That''s not the problem!" rumbles out one of those original voices, sounding out like a crash and tripping over a bundle of young people.


    "Of course ghosts are real, that''s the problem-" that young girl shrieks out again


    "There are no ghosts. Not that one at least. I said so already?" her sister responds.


    "Maybe he''s already possessed?" the younger male ruminates.


    Absolutely ridiculous.


    Meng can hardly process a thing, but she thinks she choking on that. Reaching for the drink to chug it down, despite the heat, she blearily notes the slightly too sweet, this could be addicting, milky coffee flavor.


    "Awesome. We can''t do anything if you were really a dead sister ghost. This is a lot better. You''ll be ok." the kid crawls around the short table reaching her easily, comfortable in his home environment. Fearless, if but ridiculous.


    After patting her back, both making sure she''s solid and in her half choking comfort, he reaches up to pat and rub at the limp towel over her head. Sitting up on his knees, though still very short, he tries to rub her rain-drenched hair as dry as it could get. Movements too close, too easy.


    She doesn''t know why she lets him.


    Maybe it''s just because he''s a kid. A still innocent one. Something she didn''t know she could envy. Maybe it''s because he fed her, as stupidly simple as that was.


    Took all those extra efforts in his own childishly clumsy way. Warm and sweet. Far too comfortable. The taste that lingers in her mouth, in the pit of her warming stomach and stiff fingers, all around her, is exactly that.


    This was a mistake.


    Feeling anything, even warmth, was a mistake.


    "Eh, are you alright? Was the coffee milk too bitter? Do you want something else?" small soft hands drop to rest at her dripping shoulders.


    An innocent gaze looking at her straight on. She thinks she can see a hideous reflection in those open black eyes.


    Dirty. Wrong. Useless. So damn useless.


    Not even good enough to save herself from that. Couldn''t even run away by herself. Most importantly of all, not good enough to help anyone. Not even her own family. Absolutely a piece of useless shit. Dirty selfish shit.


    Don''t cry, those eyes seem to want to say. But they don''t. They don''t hold that kind of pity. Don''t know any better.


    So she bites down on the inside of her cheek and turns away. Honey-sweet turns iron bitter with the sharpness of pain. Because if she must feel something, let it be a punishment. Let it be something that someone as awful as herself actually deserves.


    Warm hands pry into her own clenched ones, releasing the flow of blood in her painful hold. They were creamy in tone, like a doll''s, but a little larger than expected. She''s more than confused when they fully make their way into her own hand.


    "It''s ok. Maybe not right now, but it''s going to be ok. Don''t cry?"


    She hears him speak through the haze. Doesn''t know what to make of it, but hears him none the less. A little hard not to when he was right there, black void for eyes and a soft voice seemingly everywhere. Like the steam of coffee and honey-scented fresh bread, fogging up her brain.


    Even as her jaw drops slightly askew, no steam is released. Nothing has gotten better in this one moment. In all the time she''s probably been reported missing, since running. Useless, useless, all she''s good for running.


    Nothing has changed about her situation. Nothing at all.


    What happened? The disaster that was her, fighting and screaming. Scared and angry out of her mind. Attracting the wrong kind of attention enough from some idiot to come by and drag her out of it. Some idiot fattie that smelled of the same vanilla baked goods even through a day of running in the rain. This place. That ridiculousness.


    This one little boy. All of it.


    But god damn, does this feel like something. Something a little too good to be real.


    So obviously it must not be. Obviously, this wasn''t quite real. Maybe she was already dead. Jumped out the window or some shit. That would teach them a lesson for messing with her. Or maybe, just maybe, it was all a bad dream. As awful as her home life has been, as terrible as her parents have been. Fighting or dragging her into it to prevent any more stress to her younger brother. The bubbling anxiety inside, maybe it was all just a bad dream. And she would wake up, miserable, but safe in her own bed, just as always.


    She can''t breathe and this is not a dream. She knows that.


    That small strange hand wipes a sorry trail of silent tears on her face, the kind she didn''t even know where there. No one said anything else.


    It''s not a mighty force that breaks her.


    It''s not the frightful assault on a young girl or the betrayal of who she thought was supposed to be the closest people to her, her own parents. They''re awful. She decides then in there in this sudden moment of clarity, how she knows she''ll never forgive and never forget. But they''re not what finally breaks her.


    A gentle touch is more than too much.


    It burns, scorches something that might scar forever. It''s this little kindness from ridiculous nosy strangers that will kill her heart. What''s left of it at least.


    What a way to go.


    She bats his hand away and scrubs her own face. Flushing red from the irritation, and more than a bit of embarrassment for being seen this way. It was too shameful, even more so than getting caught drenched like a wet rat in the rain outside their home store.


    Something about this was definitely too vulnerable. For anyone, let alone a little stranger.


    "Alright, that''s enough. Jung-Joon, thank you for seeing to our guest." the shutter doors slide open.


    One college aged young woman, in long black hair and a pink sweater, slides open the door to release the tumble of three others. They roll on the floor in a mess, as if all secretly pressed against the screen to spy like hooligans. Two clean looking black haired teenagers and the chubby older guy splayed out, tumbled on one another.


    If the physical resemblance wasn''t enough to tell them as siblings, the bickering sure did.


    "This isn''t safe, I''m not ready to die mysteriously yet. I''m too cute and not famous yet!" a short haired girl crawls over her own brother in sacrifice.


    "I can''t save JJ alone, Sunny. Sunny your foot is in my face." the closest in age, a good looking face underneath the askew glasses, yells back at her.


    "Why didn''t eomma just abort all of you?" the biggest sibling just laid there, taking the abuse that was the physical fight on top of him.


    A wild house slipper smacks and attacks all three of them, until they were sitting, or slumping, somewhat decently in their seats. The girl in the pink sweater turns over to the youngest and the stranger in the room with a light smile and apology.


    "Ah sorry about them, they''re just a little shy. Hi, I''m Eun-Jung, I heard a bit about how my brother kidnapped you. In this weather? How silly of him."


    "I didn''t kidnap anyone, especially not scary little girls. You know how much she can cuss and scream?! I-" the big one cries in complaint. As if he were greatly wronged and never going to be a good samaritan again.


    "Ssssshhh, ah I''m just kidding. Stop making things more awkward than it already is." Eun-Jung smiles so widely it twitches a little


    "Idiot." the middle brother whispers.


    "Big idiot. This is why he can''t get a date." the younger sister giggles back.


    "Stop making it about that!?!!"


    "Isn''t that why he went out in the first place. To get stood up? But who would have thought he''d bring home a drowned spirit in relation. Ah I always knew he would bring death upon our house."


    "Oi big idiot bro, how are you going to make this up to us? You can stay sad and single for life but it''s not fair to kill us with you?"


    The slipper comes back out to kick all three of them into obedience once more.


    Meng looked back and forth in the confusion. This weirdo bunch too busy getting lost in themselves. Only the youngest of them, the little boy by her side, seemed to remember she was there. Pushing the warm coffee milk mug in between her still too cold fingers.


    He shrugs and smiles apologetically as if to say ''yes, they were always like this''. The half-moons that shined in his eyes also seemed to say ''isn''t it great?''.


    Because it was. This mess. This warmth. Something that even an idiot like Meng could tell from miles away.


    This was what a family was supposed to be, behind the screen of their privacy. They talked. They laughed and cried. They expressed everything and anything in too tight spaces. They didn''t hurt each other.


    Not like that. Not the way Meng has always lived her life.


    It''s from sitting there, like a spectator from the window, one glimpse took far too long, that Meng realizes what bullshit she''s been living. The fires of empty anger would rage, would burn. But her stomach rests comfortably but for the slight growl. Still embarrassingly heard over the noise.


    The fighting pauses as every pair of pretty dark black eyes turn to look over at her curiously.


    She blushes instantly and hides her too warm face into the sweet drink.


    "Cute."


    It''s unsure who said it first. But the table of youths burst out in a mix of terrible laughter and commotion.


    The big guy, the one who ''saved'' her, mocks and laughs at her to her face before getting pushed aside by his sister. A kind girl who fusses over if Meng wanted a warm bath first or something more to eat. That it''s raining something freezing outside and obviously she couldn''t go anywhere for the time being.


    Someone gets up to press buttons on a microwave. Someone throws over a half-opened bag of tea snacks, turning on the television for some classic game show. A telephone rings in the background.


    Nothing has changed in these few hours of time. Nothing will probably change in the next few, the next day, or even beyond that.


    But sitting in the middle of this was like the window she was glancing in had opened into a door. A door to a strange sort of bakeshop and cafe, a rest stop after school or in some strange afternoon. A peek into the doorway into a home, a real one.


    That''s what Meng will allow herself. Selfishly imposing. A little bit of peace, a little bit of this. There was just....so much of it here. Can she stay, just for a moment longer? Just until she warms up enough to get back on her feet? She thinks she can face the world outside just fine, she doesn''t have a choice.


    It could just be for a little bit?


    That''s fine right?


    A plate clatters and slides to her side again. A funny little boy that hides back to his side after delivering the warmed up honey buns. One with a very lovely kind of smile.


    She''ll stay just for a little bit.


    --------------


    -------


    ---


    -------------------------------


    Okay, now we have a skippable modern bonus. Not necessary but here we are.


    Grossness absolutely assured.


    Thanks for reading!


    -------------------------------


    -------------


    "Do it again! Squeeze all water out! You! Don''t be lazy, you think good banchan is magic like that!? Get to it!" echoes an almost voice from down the all.


    "Yeah yeah, it will be fine eomeoni! Really, your banchan are magic like that! Aiya my nails, gonna be chili stained for days." Meng turns to the jar of pickles, ready to transfer it down the stairs.


    She doesn''t even work at the Park''s bakeries, or the bar anymore. Yet here she still getting used as slave labor. Wait, it''s not even the bakery or the bar business. This was just their daily household pickles?!


    But if one does not work one does not eat.


    That is fair, given how many snacks and free meals she''s stolen under this roof. And Meng would like not to be chased around by the matriarch of the household again. For any reason. Either by a slipper, a baguette or even a giant slab of kimchi. Ah, the creative application of things an Asian mom could hit you with.


    She sets down the bucket batch down to the kimchi fridge because you really need one with all the smells when it comes to traditional pickles. Rearranging items she a little too familiar with, in the fridge and around the basement.


    Meng was just going to do one thing. But that turned into another. And another. And get yelled down by Mrs. Park again, to work as her little household slave. And there goes another weekend of Meng''s life.


    Great. Very glamorous. Covered and dust and smelling like Korean pickles. Mmmm briney. Yes she''s a very sexy young lady in her prime. The cartoon bear apron and rubber flip flops were really ahead of the trend.


    No lie, Meng had her own separate indoor and beater slippers in this house, and that''s how she knows she spends too much time here.


    She was gonna run off with the latest batch of homemade wine and pickles, and Mrs. Park was just going to have to deal. Just watch her. She''ll do it.


    Preferably without getting chased with another baguette. Those things were surprisingly painful.


    "Ah, you look like a housewife like that? Not in a sexy way, boo. Ahaha Mengmeng calm down and put down the slipper. It''s just me. " a too familiar voice and figure descended the stairs.


    Jung-Joon, a mere clean faced college boy holds out the bag of convenience store drinks and ice cream in a peace offering. For that Meng will not throw the deadly weapon, but instead, hop it back down on her foot and just as quickly hop over to the handsome source of snacks.


    "Don''t try to be funny. Look look, my manicure. It turned into kimchi nails because of your mom. Even worse, it still smells like fish sauce now. I was so nice to bring her back a designer handbag from New York and look at what she''s done to me in return. " she held out her two hands, rubber gloves pulled off, pitifully.


    Really now, she''s the one that left herself open like that.


    Taking her smaller hands in his, Jung-Joon leans down a little too dramatically to place a gentlemanly kiss on her outstretched hands. Much like how a charming prince would in any young girl''s fantasy or piece of media.


    When he looks up, black eyes furrowed and slightly glazed over in the low light of the basement, Meng blames binging those trashy things too much for the beats her heart decides to skip. The breath that catches at her throat.


    She feels herself freezing for no good reason. Feeling both hot and cold at once, from moving around, from the environment. Definitely not from the boy, just a boy she''s seen grow up, not a very fine man now, nope, just that, nothing else at all.


    "Bleck, yep. That''s anchovy and garlic chili alright. You even smell like an old housewife now. " he sticks out his tongue on her, ruining the made up mood that her mind plays tricks on her with.


    Rude. But she rips her hands away and swats at him playfully. Smiling gratefully at the delivery.


    "What am I going to do? The whole company will kick me out if I come smelling like your kimchi fridge?" she whines, opening up her hands to make grabby motions, demanding a drink.


    "You bragged that you had the next week off, I heard. Don''t lie. " he dangles a bottle of juice, one of Meng''s preferences, up high.


    "I didn''t say that exactly... I still have to turn in reports. Working from home is still working." she makes to swipe at the main bag, successfully making off with the rest of the goods.


    Hazaah! Refreshing goodies! She''s alive again after chugging down half a so not healthy, fizzy fruity soda. Even after letting out an unlady like burp, she does not calm down and tidy up but plops herself lazily over the nearby couch. Rolling around in the goodies like some goblin creature, or an enslaved house-elf, same thing.


    "Did you get dried squid snacks in here?" she shakes the bag, picking through it.


    "No. I got you flowers, chocolate truffles, stolen diamonds, and tickets to luxury cruises around the world. " he rolls his eyes at her, before dropping down himself.


    "Oh fancy, call me when you become a filthy rich man~ Aha, yaaassss my squid snacks!" she cheers, opening another beverage with the snack package, much like an old man with a drinking problem.


    "So you can murder me in style and take all my money? So selfish, only wanting me when I''m filthy rich. At that point, I''d be better off rolling in supermodels and idol starlets that don''t have kiddy hair clips all over." he reaches over and pokes at her pulled up cartoon hairpins.


    "Ah if you do that, then you deserve to be brutally murdered. It''s just bad karma." she tuts at him, but shares back the snack bag.


    When he stays still enough to rummage out the stuff, she sits up on her knees to clip the stupid plastic barrettes and pins into his own hair. His bangs especially, sticking up in cartoon stars and animal characters.


    Meng snaps a portrait with her phone. Jung-Joon even pulls a smile and V sign for the later pictures.


    "There. Now you look stupid and I can ruin you. Good look with your dream billionaire yacht cruise of supermodels when this picture, and all the other blackmail I have of you, goes viral. " she taunts, chewing on a jerky while scrolling her phone.


    "Meng? Say cheese." J.J. snaps her up with his phone camera, pulling off the clips with his fingers.


    Her hair wasn''t quite as pinned up when she donated most of them over, but she was still crouched over barefoot in a bright and silly apron. Chewing on dried squid and looking messy over everything from scrubbing pots to moving pickle storage.


    "Eh eh eh, not me. This is not my day. " she pulls up a hand in that infamous ''no pictures'' pose.


    "Cute." he praised her, trying to get a clearer shot. She was beginning to turn pink in a blush.


    "Fuck off, try again another day when I don''t look like utter crap." she tries pushing him, phone and all, off the damn couch. But sue her she was tired and lazy.


    "Very cute. The apron look on its own is very cute. " he attacks by pushing back a little too roughly, almost pinning her down to the couch. Leaned over to snap the so-called embarrassing photos.


    "...Jung-Joon?" she makes to ask, feeling a little...odd down here.


    Something intermixed with the shame of getting caught by him like this. It wasn''t quite blackmail material but it wasn''t very flattering, she knows how much a mess she looks today. But he still snaps away, that certain sort of strange grin on his face.


    It made everything unreasonably more attractive. Even this dingey space.


    No more binging those type of shit games anymore, not even for research purposes, she told herself.


    "Okay, you win. I won''t post that picture and you can have your dream model yacht. I won''t dream murder you for it, really. You can stop now." she feels the embarrassment rise with each and every shutter sound.


    "Hmm sounds nice. But I''m a simpler guy than you give me credit for. The housewife in nothing but an apron dream honestly appeals to me a hell lot more. Especially when it''s my own cute wife. Did you know that? " he plays around on his phone, doing god knows what to make her look even more like a fool.


    "How am I supposed to know something like that? You''ve grown up to be such an idiot, haven''t you?" she turns away, hoping to at least blur his stupid blackmail photos.


    When her sight lands on a masculine hand, pale but for the hints of tattoos on his wrists and fingers, she unreasonable jolts. It was not pinning her, hardly a touch, but close enough to lightly scrape and play with the apron ribbon on her shoulder. She immediately turns her head to the other way.


    "So you admit it. " he doesn''t waste the opportunity, tracing the open expanse of her exposed neck.


    She must be freezing cold down here, shivers wreck her even after that one trace touch. She must be numb and tired, when she still doesn''t nearly move enough to push him off his tomfoolery.


    "Admit what you dork?" she laughs when it tickles, but her voice doesn''t quite come out right.


    "That I''ve grown?" neither does his.


    It sounds heart-stoppingly wrong, far too low and raspy. Without either of them realizing it, he''s already dropped his phone, uselessly down to the side. Both hands pinned up the only thing stopping him from completely crushing her. Not that he would mind, quite the opposite really.


    "What are you talking about dummy...of course you have...maybe your stomach..." she whimpers no, laughs it off. Hitting him up in the tummy in this far too small space between them.


    That was the plan, but her hand feels a little stuck and trapped. Pressing up into a resonating heat, and well-packed muscle, and oh god oh no when did he get those? When did?


    A lot of questions already lost and distracted. Because his smiling eyes really were her favorite, not that she would ever tell him that, and right now they were looking down in a way that made things a little too hard to think.


    She thinks she hears the ocean crashing and breaking their waves though. Straight through her ears, washing away the brain and common sense that should be in her head.


    The kind that says friends don''t look at each other like that. The way they do. Maybe.


    She almost whines out loud when he closes those night eyes, only to lose her breath completely when he leans down.


    "Yo bro I heard you brought ice cream. Don''t hog it all you-.....AHHHHHH mom! Mooooom, eomma! Big idiot bro!!! My eyes, they burrrrrrrn! Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!"


    The scream of a young woman had them jumping up and over one another. Falling over and knocking things down. Even from a storage shelf not used in forever. That''s how bad they jumped.


    "Sunny!? What the hell, Sunny, girl calm yourself. Jung-Joon, go explain to her you were just joking around! She''s getting the wrong idea, again!" Meng feels a very strange sort of frustration overflow out of her, fear and embarrassment making her tremble.


    When she recoverers enough sense to get up from that dizzy short fall, she pounds her balled up fists over to the awful jokester. Pushing and nudging him up more than actually hitting him.


    "Again. Fucking Sunny, again." Jung-Joon rubbed the back of his neck, rolling it of any kinks and injuries.


    "Hurry. Before she comes back down here throwing red rice or jujubes again." Meng shivers in the memory of the last misunderstanding.


    The Park siblings were nice and all, but sometimes they were really insane. Last time Sunny ran out screaming in gross misunderstanding, she ran back in 10 minutes later to celebrate "winning the bet!" and started throwing ''wedding'' foods at her.


    Meng also does not want to be chased by anyone with a bamboo or pine stick ''representing fidelity'' ever again. That hurt way more than a baguette. She''s also pretty sure the ''fidelity'' stick was bullshit.


    "We can get it all over it, once and for all, if we just make it official? I can''t get you a billionaire yacht or anything, but then you don''t have to murder me in my sleep for money. I''d give it all to you anyway. You already got me. How does that sound? Want to be my wife, for real? For better or worse." Jung-Joon suggests, sounding too hopeful for a joke gone too far.


    She does not have a ''fidelity'' stick so she settles with wacking him with her own hands. Even if it hurts her more than him.


    "Go. Fix. This!" she cries.


    "Don''t wanna." he sticks his tongue out at her in mocking, pulling her into his arms punishingly. Maybe he''s punishing himself as well, knocking the back of his head against the wall in a sigh of frustration.


    "There! I''m right this time! Oh my god pay up bitches. " a screaming short haired girl, dyed a fashionable shade of brown, drags down every sibling willing to listen. Their mother probably far too tired for this nonsense, after a day of cleaning and working Meng to the ...pickle.


    It did not help that they carried with them a variety of chestnuts and cheap market rice cakes. Probably for throwing, at her.


    "Oh not again." Meng squirmed, absolutely unable to escape.


    "Is it true?" one of the brothers asked bluntly, Jung-Soo looking down at them in disbelief.


    Jung-Joon did not grace him with a reply, but a lovely middle finger held up while tightening his grip on the girl in his arms.


    "Ah." his brother responded simply.


    "Oh thank god. " Jung-hyuk praised the heavens. Not while he was so single, please.


    "What no! I saw it! I saw the busy, my eyes did not burn for nothing. " Sunny waves to the couch, and the ''not'' couple on the floor, in accusation.


    Something Jung-Joon may have responded back to in their own sibling sign language. It involved a lot of middle fingers.


    "Awww, pack it up." the eldest sister put down her camera with no happy occasion to film and started to march the rest of them back up.


    "Do we get to at least throw things at them?" Meng''s former yet forever bossman always looked forward to that part. As if to impart a little bit of the pain that watching those two always gave his soul.


    "You have to clean it up though. With Sunny, for the false alarm, again." Eun-Jung nodded in thought.


    "Oh you all suck. This wouldn''t happen if you two just sucked it up and sucked face. " Sunny throw a dried berry at her younger brother and friend anyways, leaning down to at least steal a convenience store popsicle before it melted.


    "What are all of you doing hiding down there and not helping with dinner!?!!! Do you all want me to die in exhaustion?! Before any of you become doctors or at least give me a grandchild!? Get out of that hole before I do it for you!" the accented voice of the siblings'' mother echoed down the halls and stairs.


    Amazing.


    "I don''t want to be slapped by another giant kimchi." Meng raises her slightly red stained hand from the ball the Jung-Joon had her in.


    The rest of that woman''s children all agreed to that. Quickly working together better than they would ever on their own to clean up whatever mess lingered. All before their mother really decided to come drag them out.


    "Hey, what''s this?" Sunny unfurls and unrolls something that had fallen out of the long untouched storage.


    A piece of white cloth, waving it out revealed it to be a dress. A simple feminine little dress that wasn''t exactly for a child, but wouldn''t fit anyone here. Not anymore.


    In a house that raised two girls, an old dress here or there wasn''t so strange. It was just in a very odd place. As if hidden and forgotten. Nor did Sunny remember her sister or herself owning a piece like this.


    "Ah. " Jung-Soo looked over at his younger brother, a slight smirk playing on his lip.


    "Probably nothing, just throw it in the wash or donation box for later. Let''s get going." J.J. waved off.


    "Wow, how nostalgic. Mengmeng, come look. Isn''t this what you were wearing when Jung-Hyuk kidnapped you all those years back? We gave you Sunny''s old track suit to wear after that, ah so this is where your clothes ended up?" Eun-Jung laughed, secretly holding the camera behind her back and to the side.


    "What the hell?" Meng leaned under from Jung-Joon''s broad shoulders to look at the old thing. An ancient relic really.


    "Mengmeng, you''re really hungry right? " J.J. moved and directed the girl away.


    "Huh, uh yeah. I didn''t expect to stay here this long. But I''m pretty sure your mom lured and tricked me into, well, all this. " Meng looked down to the apron and rubber gloves in the pocket.


    It wasn''t just today, trapped for lunch and with house chores.


    She really had not intended to stay so long?


    Ten or so years? Has it really been over a decade since that day?


    Why was she still here? Sure she didn''t live here or anything, but why was she still imposing in these people''s lives. People that had long stopped being strangers all those years ago.


    It was a little disorienting.


    "Do you want it back?" Jung-Soo spoke up, the way he said that sounded a bit odd. As was the knowing look in his eyes.


    But that ass hole always looked like that. Meng simply shrugged, even as Jung-Joon''s arm held on, though a bit stiffly. As if terribly reluctant to let go.


    "Not really? Sorry, it''s been there so long. I can throw it away. " she makes to apologize, reaching out to where Jung-Soo dangled the old thing. A dainty piece of cloth, nothing fancy or all the durable.


    For some odd reason, her old bossman and Eun-Jung were clutching each other with bated breaths, as if watching an exciting scene in one of their dramas. It made Meng pause to stare at them in confusion, but that was nothing new either.


    "Do you want me to starve and die?!! Do you want to eat funeral food? Should my ghost cook it for you too since none of you lazy kids know where the kitchen even is?" the family''s mother shouted again, voice reaching splendidly through even the walls.


    "Oh no, we really should go." Meng starts running up the stairs.


    She feels more than the lure of food, maybe some Pavlov''s dog reaction. All moms were scary in some way, she was just going to go with that.


    "Mmm, that''s right. We can finish up throwing away the trash later. Come on." Jung-Joon responded to her, looking back down to the rest with a silent glare.


    Eun-Jung almost put down her camera after that, just almost.


    "Yeah I''m fucking lost. " Sunny threw her hands up, shaking her head at the rest of them, and started heading up herself.


    "Do you remember your favorite fairy tale as a kid?" Jung-Soo was in a good enough mood to remind her, after all, he just saw an embarrassing show.


    "Um, Aladdin?" Sunny didn''t even look back.


    "No, not a movie. When you were really little. Remember the fairy and the woodcutter?" Eun-Jung helpfully supplied.


    Something that their youngest did not appreciate, not with the way he missed a step.


    "Oh yeah. That old stuff with a dude that stole a fairy''s robes while she was taking a bath and like marries her because she''s stuck on earth now. Creep much? Man that story did not age well. Yeah and he totally gots what he deserves when she gets them back. Flies back home to heaven. Like see ya nevers! Ahaha....oh. OH!" Sunny gets in on the joke late, but at least she gets it.


    "I hate each and every one of you. This is all bad for my heart. It''s sensitive." Jung-Hyuk beats at his own chest from the drama. Not the stairs, the sheer drama.


    "Awww that was your favorite childhood story Sunny. That''s cute. " Meng turns around to comment.


    "It was apparently JJ''s too." Jung-soo teased, not sure how much more obvious he can make it.


    "Awwwww, wittle Jung-Joon? That''s so cute~" Meng tip toes to reach and pinch at said boy''s face.


    "Mmmmm." he hums and smiles without much a reply.


    When Meng passes into the kitchen first, he does turn back momentarily. A quiet promise to get them all back, but especially the teasing Jung-Soo.


    "Oh come on, I practically threw it in her face. She''s not a ghost or a fairy like we joked about years ago, but she''s not running away from you any time soon." the middle brother pushed him along, shaking his head.


    "You''re all so embarrassing it physically hurts. " Sunny pokes, laughing.


    "This hurts my heart! Ai ow." Jung-Hyuk keeps rubbing as if feeling indigestion. Wrong spot but close enough.


    Eun-Jung presses save, and closes the video camera.


    -----------

 144 Around the firestones

    It''s been a while since the last real charging. While that continues to be the case, Lilyanne has plenty of supplies to keep her magical levels in check. So long as I''m around of course.


    Since a long series of winters are coming up, a lot of fire stones have been ordered and stocked up. Fire stones can''t replace the need for firewood and charcoal production, which is the main source of heat in this world, but they really help with the consumption rate.


    A small fire stone, say the size of a lemon, can double the longevity of a common family''s fireplace. More heat, less firewood, and less human labor or natural resources wasted. Time better allocated to allocate elsewhere.


    To have even one really eases the burden of surviving through daily life.


    They''re indispensable to not only my villa and the troop''s central heating but more importantly, the kitchens! The ovens must run on something!


    While we can easily afford the finest of smoked charred woods and charcoal, isn''t it just absurdly more economical to throw a few fire stones in? Energy efficiency and sustainability is very important in keeping things running long term. Especially when it comes to keeping the troops afloat. Building and maintaining things isn''t cheap ok?


    Normally fire stones are harvested and charged up in high heat concentrated areas. Volcanos may be involved.


    Or they can be left in direct sunlight to charge up very slowly over time. It''s not very efficient that way but it''s completely free for people to just leave their a stone up on the roof or something during sunny afternoons. Much like drying laundry.


    Of course, just like laundry, they''re open for petty theft. They''re always in demand and very useful. While it''s not terribly expensive to buy or charge in our warm climate area, not everyone has the resources to have one or even spares.


    This year a lot of work has been done according to my plans, and all the actual nerd work that father or grampa implemented. But it wouldn''t be possible without the cooperation of the farmers, laborers, and anyone involved in all our projects.


    Sure they got paid their fair wages, but everyone knows the allure of bonuses!


    Ah, the amount of overtime I remember pulling off for the best benefits possible. Ah my soul feels so old.


    To cut costs, and make this generous gift economically feasible, Lilyanne and I are instant charging up collected low or empty fire stones.


    It''s already a lot when just looking at my household''s or the troop''s daily used ones, but those tend to be more set in place. Pillars in a building, a knob already built into a boiler or an oven. The bigger the more energy it can hold, like a super battery.


    But that''s more than too much to work with. Boxes and boxes of rocks from the size of a necklace pendant to a bowling ball.


    I have Abbey and Georgie to help with sorting them by size, for easier mass charging, but it''s still very much a lot.


    It''s my fault for suggesting this sort of aid and idea. A very mundane but heavy workload on a small detail. But there isn''t much else I can think of being capable in helping out.


    Mother runs the day-to-day operations of the family''s home and vineyard estate. Along with what I suspect is an increasingly more amount of the troops since that incident last winter.


    Father juggles everything from the family''s businesses and overall estate oversees. Then there are his investments and projects. Which are still constantly increasing, like some nerd with a collection. That''s not even going into the businesses kept secret from little old me.


    Grampa is...crazy. Yep. No one knows what crazy people do. But it''s apparently a lot with his insane resume. Perhaps he has an even bigger collection than the nerd. Enough to fill up a museum, especially if his rooms and work rooms are any indications.


    I''m not feeling lonely.


    Just a little useless.


    It can''t be helped. All children are absolutely useless. Even Lilyanne, the heroine.


    The little star of the story is far from wielding magic on her own yet. Sometimes I need to direct her, since she''s still so foolish and easily distractible. As a cute little girl, she still needs big sister to hold her hand and encourage her further. To keep her going and stopping her in the right places. Oh and to keep rocks from exploding in our faces, yes that''s very important.


    But she''s learning at her own pace and doing so well! So energetic now.


    Isn''t that just so precious?


    Isn''t she just so cute like this, bowing to my every carefully worded instruction? Productivity is wonderful but obedience is the cutest!


    Is that right?


    "....Can I be let go, now?" the brain-damaged minion lifts up his little foot, shaking it.


    Ah, what an idiot.


    Amar does not look like he comprehended a thing throughout the entire lesson and storytime. Is it already too late for his head? I understand minions can never be as intelligent as their evil masters, but must I really suffer through leading all of them by the hand?


    Having Lilyanne is already hard enough.


    Instead, the older child sits comfortably amidst the boxes of rocks. Looking dazed and sleepy with his slow blinking, all as my sister and I work our butts off charging the fire stones. What a useless servant in training?


    Instead, Amar showcases the brand new accessory that is the modified ankle brace. Child-sized and made from a recycled kiddy leash. It''s no tracking device but it will keep a troublemaking kiddy within a certain range of the bungee rope.


    Tracking devices are hard to make and commission ok? They don''t exactly have jail ankle monitors available in this world. This will just have to do for now.


    "Absolutely not. I don''t trust you to not get us all in trouble." I state from where I help Lilyanne sort and charge through the organized boxes of rocks. My sister is also not free from a leash herself.


    It''s very hard to babysit these children but I don''t really have much choice here.


    Amar looks down again to his ankle, back up to the rocky mess, and back down again. Blinking in lost expectation and a reluctant acceptance. Which is slightly better than Lilyanne, who doesn''t even notice the rope at her waist.


    "So so manies, Rosa." Lilyanne points and plays, not minding the leashed ''big brother'' at all. Or the leash on herself. Ah sweet ignorance.


    In fact, she finds it a great delight to tug and pull the line at the other child. Even crying a bit at me when I refused to hand over the main handle and reigns on Amar.


    Silly cute little girl, minions aren''t pets or playthings. They''re impossibly hard to train troublemakers! This one, in particular, would very likely disappear in a trail of sugar, blood, and tears if easy to trick Lilyanne was one holding on.


    Luckily she''s also very easy to distract.


    "Now this box Lilyanne. Isn''t that a lot faster than doing it rock by rock? But remember you just move where big sister tells you to, or kaboom!" I show with arms.


    "Hee hee boom boom like grampy smashy! Lily go boom boom." she giggles in complete misunderstanding.


    "Noooo, no not that kind of boom Lilyanne. When booms are too close, they hurt and hit you. Like this."


    I snap and gesture for one of my servants to present to me a nearby fruit from a basket. I give credit where credit is due. The show you are about to see is a childish replication, yet retaining the soul and moral lesson at stake. Please keep all personal items and delicate fabrics at a reasonable distance.


    "Must you do this young Miss?" Georgie deadpans, also unimpressed with me.


    Well, I''m unimpressed with you too, so deal with it, Georgie.


    "R-right away!" Abbey bows and delivers. This girl is my only sincere servant it seems.


    "She must learn. Preferably before she hurts herself." I reason and conclude, explaining more than need be for my servents.


    They must understand where I''m coming from.


    I do not have the time, preparation, or power that my father does. Nor his influence over the wide range of servants. But I can lift a heavy enough rock, one of the bowling ball-sized ones. That will do well enough, even if I prefer a little more on the showcase.


    Lift I do. But I...just...can''t...get it any higher than my belly. Oooof.


    "Minion, help me lift this up higher! Abbey hold the leash for me, my hands are busy. Amar if you dare to pull Abbey along in your escape, you''ll make her cry uncontrollably again, and do you really want that? Do you?" I instruct back and forth, looking between the two of them.


    "... Why are you like this?" Georgie judges me from above, despite having no grounds to.


    My hands really are too busy to see to punishing him. It''s also a lot harder than it looks? What else can I do this unruly young assistant of mine? Such a hard time for a young villainess finding and disciplining good help.


    Like a good learning minion, however, Amar takes the rock from me. As if it were a blown up beach ball he nonchalantly lifts up the bowling rock higher than I can reach let alone lift. Far above our little heads.


    "Zap? Then snackies? Lily gets cheesies too." Lilyanne reaches, not understanding why I was placing innocent fruit in front of her.


    "No no Lilyanne. Not snackie. Watchie. Watchie what will happen to your face if you boom boom too close. It will hurt a lot more than bread swords to the face." I slowly stretch out my words childishly, all for her to understand.


    Immediately she pouts in the recollection of the 300+ consecutive times Lukas defeated her in the battle of the bread. A moment later she brings up her little hands to her face, rubbing away the memory of pain and swelling.


    Good, please keep all hands and crushable digits out of the way.


    "Remember Lilyanne, this is your face. You''re lovely pretty perfect face. Get it? Amar. Now. " I snap.


    The rock drops onto the little fruit with a beautiful splatter. My sisters gasp and her baby screams sweet music to my ears. Yes, yes scream more!


    "Oh ho bwahahaha! See what will happen to you?!"


    "Aaaahhhh Lily no want!"


    "...Why did we smash the orange?" Amar lifts up the mess again, poking the pulp.


    "Look Lilyanne, your guts and brain matter. " I am forced to push my sister to look closer, holding her screaming squirming head to the best of my abilities.


    "Waaah no no no Lily want to be orange juice!"


    She moves around far too much to control. So much so I accidentally plop her whole face into the wet orange pulp.


    For once, everyone goes very still.


    "Whoops. Uh. Abbey? Georgie? A little help here?" I hold her carefully, holding my breath in fear for the cries to come.


    "Do I drop the rock again now?" Amar asks at the completely wrong time.


    3. 2. 1.


    "WWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! WAH WAH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! No WANITES sQuiSH!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!"


    Ah there we go, right on time with my prediction too. That''s the Lilyanne I know.


    "Can we put her face back in there?" Amar asks.


    It is not entirely my choice, but instinct and the timely suggestion that just plops Lilyanne''s head back down. Muffling her with orange mush and a table.


    Still very loud, but better.


    "Alright stop messing around wasting food. Rosalia, you should know better!" Georgie comes to recuse the day by cleaning up. "Abbey can you get that? I"ll, ow that''s loud, there there young miss Lilyanne. It''s all alright, we''ll get you a snack that''s... not on your face. "


    "S-sure." Abbey nods along, quicker to clean and tidy things with experience.


    "Hurry up Georgie, we have many supplies to work on. " I busy myself with sorting the charged rocks and the empty ones, getting them ready.


    If I get any listless judgemental looks from Georgie, well then that''s a clear sign he''s not very efficient of his job.


    Sheesh. Without magic, this is as much as I''m good for. So everyone get to it!


    There''s a lot of work to do before winter for everybody. There''s always something to prepare and see to. As soon as common children are old enough to work, they''ll be used in small errands and any other ways they can.


    That''s the kind of world this is.


    Every household and small community must be entirely self-reliant, in any season. Let alone the dark season where not only the fields but all life and society seem to come to a standstill. No one leaves their homes or safe spaces. No one can afford to. It''s not the cold that kills, but the long-enduring wait. Dwindling stokehold supplies. Darkness and boredom of days melting into another. A phenomenon that''s unseen and unknown in another world.


    Money can only do so much. Money is useless without anything to buy or anyone to buy from.


    How unproductive this world is.


    Oh well, back to work.


    It''s very easy to tell a good quality charged rock from either the vibrancy of the color or a slight warmth emancipating from them. Even without magic, with a bit of practice or experience, anyone would be able to tell them apart as well as use them. Crude as they are. In a way, they''re still a magic tool, even if it is just a very specific type of rock.


    "Warm." Amar yawns a bit sleepily, feeling a full box of freshly charged stones.


    "Yep. We got a lot to charge up and distribute correctly. It looks like a lot now, but even if it''s just one per contributing household or a recycle refund, it would run out in a snap." I make the gesture.


    I gotta snap again and again as Amar seems to curl up over a box of rocks. Ready to take a nap over the warm heat.


    Is he a cat or something?


    "Blanket?" he asks, blinking up slowly.


    "No. Bad minion. Not a bed. It''s work. " I pinch at the soft little cheek.


    The summer has tanned him a bit darker, but it''s fading away. Like a steamed cake with a bit brown sugar. The softest and fluffiest kind.


    So squishy.


    My snapping is very ineffective. Is it because I''m not scary enough? Or enough of an overbearing villainess? I may be extremely adorable, but for the most part I feel absolutely no one will take me seriously any time soon. With the exception of Abbey of course.


    Ok, I have decided that she gets a bonus this year. And not Georgie!


    Abbey, however, is too eager to serve as a maid. For she has brought over a whole pile of blankets and cushions. Presenting it with slowly developing grace.


    I didn''t even ask for it though.


    "Feel?" Amar pats at the bed of stones.


    Abbey takes it as if directions on where all the cushions should go. Right on top.


    With some fumbling about from those two, it soon begins to look like a small childish fort. Like children play camping when they''re all obviously inside. What a waste of time.


    "That''s not for playing." I shake my head.


    Before I even finish with the simple gesture, Amar is already wriggling into the cozy fluffed up blanket fort. Like a spoiled child that''s getting increasingly lazy. Curling around and getting comfortable and...wait where did the ankle leash go?!


    Abbey?! Do I have to rethink that bonus?


    "Too sleepy. It''s warm." his little voice begins to drift off.


    "Hey, not again. I need to use you to lift rocks. This is very sensitive work. Hey?...."


    ...Obviously, I am forced to go discipline my own minion. But I am very small and cannot reach things. Thus I must crawl into the fluffy fort.


    It''s not like I want to roll around the fort. That looks very warm and cushiony and soft. Not at all.


    "Abbey...please lift me into the fort. " I also fail at finding a suitable path to climb up the box and into the kiddy tent. No more shall I shame myself by hopping up and down uselessly.


    "R-right away young miss Rosalia," Abbey giggles a bit, doing her job of actually listening to my demands. All without the mockery that is cooing and teasing me.


    Very well, you may have your bonus back. So I have mentally decided.


    "Will t-th-there b-be anything else, my y-young miss." Abbey asks as she places me at the sole entrance of the kiddy fort.


    Oh my it''s a lot more comfortable than expected? Is it the radiating heat? Soooooo comfy!


    "Juice." I give my order quickly, marveling, and rubbing my face into the cushions.


    This heat has suddenly made me realize just how cold the soap rooms are. Besides the fireplaces and boilers, it lacks the centralized heating of any of the main buildings. After all it was a storehouse before I took it over.


    But this artificially cozy heat? It reminds me of a heated spa floor, a freshly dried batch of laundry or better yet, a kotatsu table!


    Such a modern novelty item. Perhaps seen only in your mangas and anime form of media? Ha! It''s actually the old fashioned but ultimate heating money saver. The ultimate lounging comfort of warmth and laziness!


    Too comfortable even, a very dangerous thing that can trap you all day and all night in lounging around and doing nothing! Oh so good. Oh so nappable.


    Should I commission one in this world? It would be the first of its kind! Would it be sellable though?


    Oh no.


    I can feel my will and drive to work quickly draining away from this reminiscent heat. No. No, my productivity! My list of plans and winter prep. So much to do but yet I now suddenly have no motivation for it.


    How can a stupid pillow fort on a bunch of magically warm rocks be so comfy?


    "I hate it." I roll around, eventually reaching to kick a half-asleep Amar.


    Kids need more sleep than adults, it''s perfectly reasonable for a child to have an afternoon nap. But something is a little fishy about my minion''s present condition.


    Ok, a little, may be understating it. Just a bit.


    He''s already slept so much beforehand, perhaps under the influence of something. How come he''s still so tired now?


    "Did you have poison again?" I ask, kicking off my tiny shoes.


    "No." the boy mumbles, still buried in blankets and cushions.


    "Are you lying again? I know about it already, you made a weird deal with my father. Since no one else will give it to you. You''re too young and dumb to start training in that, normally. " I think, recalling what I could about poison training in this world.


    Gotta use all my tools to their full advantage after all.


    Mithridatism. There are a decent amount of people, noble and adventurers alike, who take small amounts of certain substances. Maybe on purpose. Maybe by accident, usually by some venomous beasts, insects, or general pests. That small amount may build up over time or it could just be that. The idea is reasonably to develop some form of resistance over time, from that first survivable exposure.


    It''s not an unheard-of idea or concept. Dangerous if you don''t know what you''re doing or haven''t hired someone who does. But in Rosalia''s strange and dangerous world it wasn''t unheard of.


    It''s not very effective though, since it only works as resistance against the specific substance you used. Nor does it work against all components. Science and medicine here is blurry sometimes but we know that much. A real immunity is impossible. Besides, there are too many things out there that could kill you. Why bother too much with something so mundane?


    Rosalia never did beyond the minimum when it came to that practical training. Even then she was at least 10 or so? After all a high noble such as myself must be careful about all aspects from every side.


    Arsenic smells like bitter almonds about half the time. Then makes your breath or urine smell like garlic. Hard for most people to find a good source since the material is pretty impure. Easy enough to track any culprits when following trades.


    Belladonna plants and leaves are very recognizable, the whole plant being lethal. Watch out but I can survive about three berries. The eye drops hurt like stupid though, but topical ointments can be used as medicine. Very specifically motion sickness medicine.


    Cyanide isn''t even a thing there! We don''t have the technology to distill it in masses. I mean sure someone can make something, since it''s everywhere, but again there are just too many things that can kill you. Lots of more effective and popular things in these times.


    Too much work, too low pay off.


    Besides, it''s much less painful to just raise and train some cheap disposables. If they die, that''s fine. The main point is for them to protect their master. If they can just live long enough to identify and shout out what killed them, then that''s mission accomplished. They''ve fulfilled their life purpose.


    It''s nothing personal. Just everyone has a role in life.


    In such a world, human lives are surprisingly cheap. No?


    I roll over comfortably and kick the unresponsive blanket lump again. Since this is usually the part he interrupts my occasional partially escaped thoughts, let alone give me an answer. Too still and too long a silence, definitely not asleep at all.


    Hey, you. Are you really ok with being a disposable like that? Do you even understand?


    Probably not.


    "Table."


    The little lump moves just a bit, unseen. If we judge from the blanket movement alone he could be rolling over as he sleep talks muffled under there. Since he makes even less sense.


    "...what about tables?" I kick again lightly, sighing how random children are.


    Kids are sensitive and not always understandable. They operate on another level that sensible adults have long forgotten. What was I even expecting? Even then, a strange voice whispers to me much like a headache. About time and how things aren''t up to me. It sounds like grampa.


    I hate it already!


    "There''s a table. In my old house. When the summer garden leaves go to sleep, the table comes out." the blanket finally speaks up.


    That sounds...oddly familiar?


    The blanket ripples with slight movements. A soft little mochi face peeks out from underneath. Eyelashes low and teary with sleep. Even more so than usual.


    "It''s not very tall, but everyone sits on the floor with lots of cushions. There''s a pit under for hot coals and firestones... Then you gotta throw a big blanket over it. One that''s warm and long. And another, to cover it on top for food and tea. Because of the heater, it got really warm under the blanket. " Amar quieted down voice speaks out, oddly talkative.


    So much it catches me off guard when one of the blankets rises up high on the fort as if a corner side was thrown up suddenly. It rises and falls, landing over my head, darkening my vision.


    "Grown ups stick in just their legs and they share it. It wasn''t very big at all. But I can fit. All of me. It was always really warm under there. " says the boy hiding under the blanket.


    When my eyes adjust, I can see he clutches a too large cushion. Face down and entirely squished into it.


    "It''s like a whole different world. Up top, the grown ups talked funny things. They drank chai and ate winter goodies even through the night time. Sometimes someone sticks their hand down with snacks. Even though I''m not supposed to be down there because it''s funny to breathe and gets too hot at times. Nuts. Seeds. Fruits. Cookies. Cakes."


    It''s not hard to imagine him drooling down there, despite not seeing his face. All he does is name sweet things. A tiny tummy about to growl out any moment now.


    "Sometimes I got yelled at when they pulled me out. Even by mama. But because it''s cold outside, sometimes really cold, like when snow like Lukas makes fall outside, I get to drink warm pommes juice with lots and lots of cinnamon. Because the chai and kaffa are for grown ups. And I get tucked back on someone''s lap. So I don''t get cold. "


    Warm. The heat radiating from the firestones through the cushion makes it all very warm. As if every one of my fingers and toes had been heated and draped with freshly dried laundry. It''s oddly familiar.


    Not just for me apparently.


    "But everyone talks too much." Amar let out a big breath from where he''s been trying to suffocate himself. When he turns his little head to the side, looking at me, it''s with a laugh and a smile.


    I think this child is most definitely brain damaged. Maybe from breathing coal fumes from under any heated tables. Especially during any young developing years.


    "Everyone talked too much and for too long. Even mama. So I fell asleep a lot. Sometimes in someone''s lap. But sometimes I slipped down again under the table. It was really warm and stuff. Is it really too easy to fall asleep in? I almost forgot."


    Should I give a response instead of staring dumbly? Or should I let the normally quieter minion speak it out? Let him fill up this small space with his even smaller words that sound both muffled and amplified?


    I don''t know, but then again, I don''t know a lot of things. That much is clear. The me of right now knows too little of everything, even when I know the most about the future.


    But I''m only one very small person. And my cheat only extends to me. I only know my sad fate and future.


    "I really forgot. I forgot about it. Isn''t that funny? ....I thought I really forgots... " Amar''s words fumble clumsily. Sounding even younger with a tongue that roll incorrectly, much like how real children do.


    "And this made you remember?" I pat down below up, to the bottom of the forth. To the artificial heat burning low and slow, as if it weren''t running at all.


    Fire stones. What a wonderful and convenient thing. Magic that''s as common as good firewood and coal.


    "I don''t know? I don''t know what I''m supposed to do. Forget? Or remember? Everyone says different things." Amar admits it like a question. Weighing and asking it for himself.


    "Whose even everyone?" I ask back, since I can''t answer.


    "...Everyone?" he rubs the side of his face back into the pillow.


    It''s getting suffocating down here. Blankets pressed too close to small heads and fat faces. Slowly, it feels like we''re running out of oxygen down


    "Forget it. Try to remember. Forget it all. You have to remember something, anything. Forget and don''t remember no mores. Give it up and remember it all. You have to. You have to. You have to if you want it back. You have to if you want anything back. Everyone says different things, and I don''t know anything. If I dids, I forgots. Like the korsi table. Like the cold nights with cinnamon pomegranate juice. I really forgots. Just like that. After enough time I''m gonna forget everything." Amar gets increasingly quieter and quieter, harder to understand. I don''t know if it''s the pillow or himself.


    "What do you want to do?"


    At the silent response a moment too long, I can''t take it anymore.


    Air!


    Obviously I need air, unable to take the suffocation. I pull off the blanket on the both of us, waving in not only cold air but oxygen. It gets the bundle holding onto the pillow to shiver slightly, peeking up with a slightly annoyed look.


    "You really are brain damaged. Did you get no air under there for your head to be like this? Ah it''s going to be so much work on you!" I sigh, smacking him with the blanket bunched up into my fists, pulling it off.


    Amar stubbornly rolls over, taking a corner with him. Rolling himself against the fort into a blanket burrito.


    A very fat and fluffy burrito. It''s funny looking and just a little cute.


    "Hey don''t avoid me just because I''m right. What do you want to do? Isn''t that the most important thing? Not what anyone or everyone says. Remember or don''t. What is it that you want?" I crawl over, poking the burrito.


    A little head pokes out one end of the overstuffed roll. Curious eyes blinking.


    "...I don''t know?"


    Don''t facepalm. Do not facepalm. Just a little kid, a very dumb and cute one, that needs patience and guidance. Think of Gable. What would Gable do? Do not, I repeat Rosalia, do not facepalm at the kid.


    I smack my head into a pillow.


    "I don''t know...no one asked that before? No grown up at least? Not even mama. She just did it, she didn''t ask, and then I had to listen. That''s the way things are?" a muffled voice rambles on, slightly nudging me with every roll.


    "That''s a terrible way to go about it. I never listen to anyone, let alone my parents. They''re very horribly stupid, each in their own ways. " I pop back up, shuddering at the injustice of it all.


    This is the pain and constraints of children! Getting tossed and turned at the whims of others, their parents, or any guarding adults of this world. You have no power and no say in anything. It''s all a great draw of luck on who you get as your guides. If they''re any good for you or good at all.


    It''s something I didn''t realize would be such a problem till I relieved a childhood in this persona.


    How unfairly frustrating!


    "Pffft-." Amar''s little head disappears back into the blanket burrito. From the way it shakes though, I say it''s safe to assume I''m being made a mockery of again.


    It happens too many times to be acceptable for a villainess of my status.


    "What''s so funny now?" I kick, since poking does nothing against this fluff.


    Because my tiny and weak physique isn''t much, I am forced to push and unroll the minion burrito. Somehow though, I just end with a bigger and fluffier burrito. Layers of blankets tangled up in a ball. If only making him gain weight was this easy.


    Amar can still breathe in there though if his still audible childish giggling is anything to go by.


    This is also fine. Children shouldn''t be thinking of such complicated things out of their control. Nor hiding in dark spaces without air, no matter how warm and nap worthy they are.


    "Lily too!!!" comes a very high-pitched gasping.


    I poke my head out of the fort to see my sister, face clean and fruitless, hopping up and down uselessly below. When she starts climbing the box, it''s only to slowly slide down its too smooth surface.


    "This isn''t a tree you know? Lilyanne? Lilyanne you stop that. " I speak down to her.


    "Lily too. Lily in wit Rosa and big bruder too." she yips and growls, continuously jumping and sliding.


    With a light muffled laughter, Amar unrolls himself enough to fall freely on his back. Only to rebundle with the first blanket again before also peeking out. This child seems to get cold easily, which is fair given we''ve only put him in thin nightclothes.


    "It''s very warm and sleepy in here. Thank you for making it warm. " he thanks her for the magic charge, falling back to snuggle into his fort.


    "Wah Lily too!" my unfortunately tiny little sister stretches out uselessly. Her tears and cries seemingly never-ending.


    This one, I have no qualms about facepalming at and over. All the facepalms in the world would not be enough to express how I feel about this deathly cute and surprisingly chaotic creature. All I know is that no peace is to be had with her.


    There is no peace in my future when Lilyanne is involved. But at the same time, I need this little girl for her powers and more.


    It''s complicated.


    "You''re all funny." Amar says, tilting his head with a smile.


    "Excuse you. You''re the one that''s funny in the head....don''t do stupid things anymore. Like seeing bad people. Your games are all bad and you''ll only get in trouble for them. Don''t think so much when you don''t know how." I reprimand the child.


    Whether he knows how to listen or not remains to be seen.


    From the way he tilts his head back in the other direction, I would say no. No, he doesn''t.


    "Ok? Whatever you say, Rosa.... I couldn''t say that stuff. Like before. I can''t say it to Lukas. He doesn''t have anything to remember. So it makes him sad, even if he doesn''t say anything. Ah that''s not right? He talks a lot. To tell himself he''s not lonely. Don''t get tricked by him? You''re very stupid if you do. " Amar changes the subjects again, as easy and natural as breathing.


    It''s a little scary how well he does that.


    "But it''s better now. Lots. Next time then. Next time, I can tell him all the stories I don''t remember. I still don''t know...but it''s better. Thank you. "


    The fort is very warm, from my butt to my toes. The other child covers himself back under the covers, and like magic, seems to disappear under the pile. If left to his own devices, you may never know he was there.


    The tiny world of children is a strange one, but until I grow up enough, I''m just as stuck as a part of it.


    I was about to kick again, maybe pull those covers off, but a pillow goes flying through the fort. Then another. Another orange?


    "Lily say Lily too!!!" somewhere below my sister aims and throws.


    Much more things hitting out and around. But occasionally, something like the orange hits. It''s quite dangerous.


    "Lilyanne calm down and put that down. So says your big sister." I''m forced to immediately deal with her.


    With this one I still can. Since she''s part of my story.


    As for strange little minions and all their badly remembered secrets, well that''s a problem for another day. If I''m lucky, a problem that will have no relation to me.


    "Big sister meanie wit big bruder. No share?! Smash?! Lily not a orange juice!!!"


    "Lilyanne you''re making no sense. Lilyanne put down that rock, it''s heavy and dangerous. Lily? Lilyanne no?!!"


    My own little sister is more than enough of a problem. Also she''s trying to throw rocks at me. She''s only three and already trying to kill me?


    See if it wasn''t so complicated, I would have just killed her first and be done with it. But noooooooo. No one messes with the heroine. It''s the law of the universe or something. No one messes with the heroine and survives. Pffft.


    "Lily, stop you''re making the box shake. " I compliment her incredible aiming skills, failed only by her lacking strength and literally everything else.


    "Waaaaaah Rosa no wuv Lily mosties no mores! Homewreckers!" she sobs on the floor.


    "....what." I lack the capabilities to respond to this nonsense.


    "You''ve been holding out on me!" Georgie''s voice comes chasing down the hall.


    "Am not! Get away!" yells another unexpected one.


    "Homewreckers!!!" Lilyanne continues to cry.


    My other babysitter gets steered and chased into the soap rooms. His pretty homewrecking face formed into a grimace at the sound, blocked off by a sparkly eyed Georgie. Near clinging onto him for some reason.


    "I...just...want...one kiddo. Just here for one of the brats. Not that feral one. Hand him over." Yuna backs away slowly from both the crying toddler and Georgie''s overly enthusiastic....something.


    "And miss out the chance to go...shopping?!" Georgie''s glee is glaring.


    "It''s not shopping for shit and it''s not even me or my money. It''s Cass! What does that even have to do with your loser ass in the first place? No, get away from me!" Yuna screeches away from the signs and affections of what is apparently how Georgie makes friends.


    "House shopping!!! Oh this is going to be so fun! Your dorms sucks and that hideout is, no offense, really messed up, dark and creepy. Oh we can decorate, and furniture shop and I know Amar needs new clothes and-" Georgie manages to get his arms around the younger boy, squeezing in excitement.


    "What is wrong with you?!" Yuna somehow does not fling my taller but much weaker assistant off of him, let alone the window.


    Thank goodness for I don''t think Georgie can survive that. Even if he did get a bit larger over the summer of forced camp workouts. Yuna does however make his disgust very well known.


    "Lily too!" my little sister toddles over, hugging onto Yuna''s leg.


    Look like she just wants to constantly be involved in and on anything somewhat interesting. Oh kids. So needy for attention and such.


    But what is this I hear?


    "Shopping? House shopping? Now?" I make myself known, popping my head out the fort.


    "No no no wrong brats, wrong one!" Yuna yells and points in horror.


    "You sit tight right there with the kids. Abbey will be back with their snacks soon. I''ll go get Alfonso''s and the guard''s permission. Ohhhh outside shopping?! This is going to be great! " Georgie pets the young grump, plopping Lilyanne into Yuna''s unwilling arms and seemingly skipping off.


    "Hewo homewrecker! Cheese? " my sister copies the patting motion, reaching up to Yuna''s face.


    "...How about no." the teenage babysitter holds her far away. Unsure what to do with her much like a ticking time bomb.


    Which she kinda is, no lie.


    My my my as nice as it is to laze around doing nothing sometimes, I''m just too busy for that. Oh my and property shopping too? Right before winter? Ohhh so much is needed!


    Alright Amar, stay hidden and sleep away. Just for now. After all you''re just a child in need of his naps.


    "Come on Lilyanne, let''s finish charging up and then we can go shopping!" I hop down and out from the fort.


    "Yaaaaaay!!!" Lilyanne cheers in Yuna''s confused grip.


    "This is not what I came for. I didn''t sign up for this." Yuna complains, grimacing wide eyes as if he was holding something very dangerous. Or perhaps foul smelling?


    Oh dear, did Lily forget cheese on her person again?


    "Help us out. I want to finish these up before we go." I huff, pointing to the scattered rocks my sister made a mess of.


    "Why should I? I don''t even-"


    "Today''s lunch was ragu ribbons if you wanted to pack any leftovers along with bread stew. You can also take two medium sized fire stones. Three if you''re quick enough."


    "Make it one big and three mediums and a pack of the pebbles.", Yuna immediately sets Lillyanne down and gets the cleaning and packing.


    "What an overcharge!?" I gasp, clutching my spleen. Oh money, those things could be sold or traded for money.


    "I''m expensive, princess. And I want fresh loaves of bread from downstairs, daily. The camp cafeteria was barely decent before but it''s going to shit now with the stock hold supply and the funky experiments. We''re getting roots and bottom rung shit. " Yuna speaks as he works, cleaning and stacking faster than anything Abbey could do with all her well intended efforts.


    Well, I must admit Yuna is right on one part. He is expensive in a way.


    But I don''t dislike that either. People who know their value and stand up for themselves. Messy ponytail and slightly dark circles from lack of sleep. But something about Yuna stands out very tall and straight. Maybe some inflated sense of price under the rigid shell of the grumpy.


    I don''t dislike this kind of person at all.


    "Fine. FIne, permissions granted. Oh good help is just so hard to find." I wave him off, taking Lilyanne''s hand.


    She laughs and cheers spinning us until I can lead her, and instruct Yuna, where the fire stones need charging.


    We have work to do. Then more work after that. I''m going to use this magical little heroine for all she''s worth, even if it comes with a headache.


    But it''s a little fun. At least for me.


    I''m selfish like that.


    "I''m here! I''m here! I''m here! And delivery too! Cap says to take these all to you in the Rosa rooms! Hi Rosa! Hi Yuna! Hiiiiii weird doll sitting over there! Ew stinky, hi to you too but you smell bad!" the doors slam open to some terribly stacked floating crates.


    Floating with tiny legs carrying them. Lukas trips his way in with even more rocks. Empty firestones collected to almost double the rocks we already have.


    Oh dear.


    Wait what did he say about a scary doll?....


    ....AAAHHHHH PONYO-CORA ANNABELLE?!! hOW DOES THAT THING KEEP SHOWING UP?! HOW? AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!


    "Rosa?" my sister hold me back from jumping out my little pumpkin pants.


    "How?!!!" " point to the thing, sitting there as if it were innocent.


    "Hi Amar! Are you sleeping? Okay. Can I come too? I''ll be quiet! ....Okay!" Lukas happily drops everything like a freight, running with a head start into the perched up fort.


    "Yuuuna! I demand you take the doll! Take it and get it away!" I shake, using my own sister as a sheild.


    "Rosa funny. Dolly wants play!" Lilyanne states, simple as that.


    "Yuna! I''ll pay you everything and more. Extra! Soda pops! Conditioner! Just get it!" I screech.


    "As long as I get paid, princess." Yuna does as tasked, picking the obviously cursed thing up and sticking it into the fort with the boys.


    With a quick look, he pokes his head in as well. As if checking but pleased with the sight. For he gets back to work organizing and lifting in a slightly better mood. A little more at peace.


    But that could be from all the pay he''s extorting out of me.


    It''s a very strange mess going on. Not just in my soap rooms, even if that is the most obvious example. But at least with each and every stone charged, it''s becoming warmer and warmer in here.


    With each one, it will go out somewhere. Maybe to light up someone''s kitchen fires. Maybe to stock up my own employee''s little nests. Somewhere, sometime in the near future. I hope it keeps someone a little warmer.


    After all, paying me back is going to be expensive work. Get to it, everyone!


    ----