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The day passed quietly.
After the strange morning encounter with the silver-haired boy, Historia had found her usual spot beneath the old elm tree at the edge of the estate.
She brought a book with her—some dry, heavily censored volume about Wall Maria's agricultural strategies—but didn't read much. Her mind kept drifting.
Back to the boy. His stare. His words. That strange, unshakable confidence wrapped in cold disdain. Historia really wanted to complain about why she chose that kind of book.
Dinner was still an hour away, so she stayed under the tree, basking in the sunlight and trying not to think too hard.
It wasn't easy. She had read every book at the farm so she read the boring books and left the 'exciting' ones for last, which means she can't focus on such boring stuff when she that on her mind.
Eventually, she closed the book and headed back toward the house.
...
She walked quietly, following the cobbled path that cut between the fields and garden.
And then she saw him again.
Kaelen.
He sat near the barn, legs crossed, a thick book resting open on his lap. His mother lay nearby, wrapped in soft blankets. Her breathing was steady, peaceful.
The sight should've been mundane.
But it wasn't.
It was the book.
Historia squinted. She'd read a lot in her life—more than most girls her age, more than many nobles—but she had never seen one like that. The leather was too dark, the print too small. The symbols on the spine weren't standard Wall script.
That book… wasn't from here.
She wanted to ask.Desperately.
But if she just walked up to him, he'd glare, call her a s*xist slur, and tell her to go away again.[1]
So she did something terrible.
She hid.
There was a tool shed nearby with a broken corner wall. Just enough of an opening to listen. And she could still see Kaelen from behind a patch of tall grass.
She crouched down. Quiet. Still.
And listened.
He was reading aloud.
"…and if boiled over low heat, mixed with yarrow, and applied with a clean cloth, bleeding should stop within minutes. Wound should remain elevated if near the limbs…"
Herbalism?
Historia frowned. It was a medical book—one she had never seen before.
But Kaelen read it like scripture, it seemed like it was more about using common-found herbs but the ingredients listen didn't seem to originate from this Wall.
His voice was calm. Clean. Not too loud, not too soft. Like someone who practiced alone.
Every few paragraphs, he would stop, turn, and check on his mother. Tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Wipe her brow.
It was jarring.
This boy who had insulted her without hesitation… was now the gentlest son she'd ever seen. This was what bias truly was.
The book ended soon after. He closed it with care and set it aside, and she could swear she saw what seemed to be a smirk, as if he knew something she did.
Historia was just about to leave when he reached for a second book, and she cursed her own curiosity for staying
A smaller one.
Clothbound. Old from it's worn pages and the red cover.
He didn't read its title aloud.
But she knew instantly—this one wasn't about medicine.
This was a story.
...
"A long time ago," Kaelen began softly, "there was a noble lady named Krista," Kaelen said calmly, the uncaring eyes merely waited bored, as if this trickery wasn't worth their time.
Historia froze, not because of the name but because a story that started like this? That sounded interested.
He kept reading much to her attention
"She had golden hair, like the sun. And eyes the color of the sea. She was fourth in line to inherit a vast dukedom—but she didn't care. She wanted something more. Could you believe that mother? What she wanted was a..." Kaelen trailed off, gotta reel the fish in right, guys.
"A fish," he said.
"A fish the size of a ship."
Historia blinked, nearly knocking something over and revealing.
What?
"Krista wanted to find the great fish. Ride it across oceans. Explore the endless waters. Feel the wind on her face, not from balconies, but from bow decks.
So she ran.
She stole a boat." Kaelen said calmly, "She's quite the idiot, mother. You mustn't ever listen to such women."
"Krista didn't know how to sail," Kaelen continued. "She wasn't strong. She wasn't brave. Not yet. But she was curious. See? She's born for trouble."
"The boat nearly sank. A whirlpool caught her. Her dress shredded in the wind. She was hungry and sunburned.
But the sea didn't abandon her.
It carried her.
Because she was free." Kaelen said calmly, the pale blue eyes flickered as if remembering a familiar desire, not from inside but from someone else.
Historia felt something stir in her chest.
A sharp ache.
This Krista, who Kaelen read about so plainly, so gently, was everything she wanted to be.
Not the Lady Historia Reiss who smiled and waved and obeyed.
Not the quiet, obedient girl tucked away on a forgotten farm.
But a girl who fled.
A girl who chose freedom.
A girl who dared to want more.
And then…
He stopped.
Kaelen folded the page, like an expert edger, clearly learning from Seth_Eden on that aspect/
Draped a fresh blanket over his mother, oddly enough, her silver hair seemed to show brown at the top.
And sat back.
Eyes closed. Breathing slowly.
Historia waited a moment longer.
Then backed away carefully, heart racing, so fast, she didn't even notice how much noise she made.
She walked quickly.
No one noticed her. The evening breeze cooled her face, she was definitely late for dinner but its not like Mother would even be here or would anyone care.
But her mind burned.
That story… that girl named Krista…
She wasn't real.[2] But she could've been.
She could be.[3]
"I hope he reads more tomorrow," Historia whispered.
She didn't know why she cared.
But she did.
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[Auther: Why is the story about a fish? Because we're catching one. A fish with blonde hair and a heavy royalty tie-in. Anyways, I'mma go manically laugh in a corner, cya~!]
[1] The slur is the word 'woman', I used it because I found it's the most offensive yet allowed word.
[2] "Sure, buddy."
[3] Will be*