When did I become an adult?Where does the line lie — that thin boundary between childhood and whatever stage of life I'm in now?
I used to think the turning point came when I stopped believing in miracles and let the ordinary consume me. Looking back, it wasn't exactly a choice — more of a necessity.
The world treated me like an adult, and so I had to act the part.A forced measure — one everyone must eventually accept.
And yet… here I am, in a storybook world where magic exists, where all the things a child dreams of are real — a life full of wonder and adventure.Isn't that, in itself, a miracle?
Then why… why do I still feel like an adult?
Pressing my palm to my forehead, I felt a faint pressure that made my eyelids sink, as though blinded by too bright a light. My lips were dry, stuck together — opening my mouth took more effort than I expected. My fingers slid down my face and stopped under my eyes — on the bags that felt far too heavy for someone my age.
Even though Luisa and I used the same soap, we somehow smelled different.Before, my nose used to burn whenever she pressed against me — the tension only got worse. But now… nothing.At what point did my body get used to her?
My eyelids stayed closed a while longer, but my mind remained both clear and tired.Through the darkness behind them, I didn't see dreams — only the same reality, just dimmer.
Careful not to disturb Luisa's sleep, I rose from the bed and drew the curtain shut, keeping the shadows inside. It was still too early — so early the sun was only preparing to take the moon's place. Pale rings of fire peeked above the horizon, but they barely lit anything yet. Not yet. Only the snow, blanketing the ground in silence, shimmered with countless points of light — as if I were gazing down at a sleeping city from the sky.
The silence outside was so complete it felt like my ears had stopped working altogether.Only Luisa's soft breathing denied that illusion.
Luisa…The memory of yesterday twisted my stomach unpleasantly.Should I ask her about Euriel?Just picturing her face in that moment made me decide against it.
Still moving like a mouse, I slipped off the bed and tiptoed toward the door.A floorboard creaked, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.Holding my breath, I listened — Luisa was still softly snoring. Only then did I ease the door open, step outside, and lean against the frame.The chill of the corridor bit into my skin, drawing a relieved sigh from me.
I felt like a lover sneaking away from the bed of someone he had no intention of building a future with.The only difference was — I'd be coming back.The thought made my stomach twist even harder.
Luisa…
I tried to brush her from my mind, picturing that other girl's face instead.But no matter how hard I tried, it stayed blurry.
I didn't know her name, who she was, or where she'd come from.All I knew was that her appearance was striking — like a lightning bolt.Her temperament shifted like sun and moon trading places.And her image burned so vividly in my mind that it made me wonder whether the stars embroidered on her dress were truly fake.
When will I see her again?To see that face — one glance of which was enough to make me never want to leave.
Will it happen before my memories fade completely?
At what point will I forget her for good?And… myself?
Some part of me whispered that this was knowledge better left unknown.Once you find out, there's no turning back — and like awaiting death, you start counting the seconds until it arrives.Curiosity and fear wove together inside me so tightly that I could no longer tell which one outweighed the other.
"Yori? Why are you—"Her words were cut off by a wide yawn."You look terrible. What happened?" Emilia stepped out of her room and came over, scooping me up into her arms.
"I couldn't sleep."
"I see. Then maybe—"Before she could finish, I shook my head quickly, refusing whatever she was about to suggest.
"Oh, what am I going to do with you?"
Her embrace washed over me like a sudden tide.The tension drained from my body, letting me finally relax.The fabric of her nightgown was warm against my palms, yet my fingers no longer held her tightly — they felt weak, drained.
My eyelids fluttered, closing slower than they should have, as though resisting.But they closed anyway.I let myself sink — into her warmth, into that fragile peace, into the gentle weight of her hand on my back.
Her breathing was calm and steady, coaxing mine to match — slower, deeper, smoother.The soft sway as we descended the stairs worked like a lullaby, drawing me into a care-free haze.The knot in my stomach loosened, and even my stubborn thoughts began to fade away.
Sleep didn't strike — it crept in gently, like a thousand shadowy hands reaching out to cradle me.I only managed to move my lips slightly, as if to speak — but the words never came.
Before I even realized it, I was already sinking into darkness — quiet and steady, like Emilia's embrace itself.
.
A soft current of her voice wove into a song and drifted deep inside me, like a beam of light falling into the bottomless well of my soul.There was a warmth in it — the kind that can't be described, only felt.
I felt the corners of my lips lift into a faint smile.A sweet scent filled my skin, seeping into every pore, and for a moment it seemed as if I were lying in a field of flowers.
My head rested against something warm and soft — and it was that feeling that shaped the images in my mind.
When my eyes slowly opened, the first thing I saw was Emilia's face.Her eyelids were closed, and her hair swayed gently with the rhythm of her humming.
"It's been a long time," she said with a smile, stopping her song. "Since the last time I held you like this, hasn't it?"
"Oh, uh… yeah… How long was I asleep?"
"Just a couple of hours. For such a sleepyhead, that's surprisingly little."
Her remark made me frown for a moment. It felt strange, hearing Emilia tease me.
"You could've just let me sleep on the couch," I muttered, looking away.
"And miss the chance to hold you? Never!" A light laugh escaped her lips, and her chest trembled with it beneath my cheek.
Her voice, usually calm and reserved, now carried a playful note. The always composed, ever-caring Emilia suddenly sounded almost childlike. It was… kind of cute.
I tried to sit up, but her hand gently circled around my head, pressing me back down.Any other day, I might've resisted — but right now, I didn't want to move at all.
"Now, now… where are you running off to already?"
Maybe it was because of last night — I was starved for warmth, the kind you feel only when close to another person.My body felt a hundred times heavier, and before I knew it, I had relaxed completely against her chest.
"Thank you…"
"Hm? For what?"
What made me say that?Honestly, I had no idea. The only explanation I could come up with was that I simply wanted to say it.
"No reason in particular," I murmured.
"Mmm, I see."
Something in the way the corners of her lips lifted sent a faint shiver through me.I smiled too — but inside, I didn't really feel like smiling.
Emilia's lips trembled slightly. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes, and her face slowly began to take on a bluish tint, as though she were freezing.
"This is going to sound pathetic, but… I can't feel my legs," she said with a strained laugh.
"Eh? Oh, right."
Then why had she pulled me back down in the first place?Emilia used to carry both the grocery bags and me without breaking a sweat.Did that mean… I'd gotten heavier?
Small and heavy — that was probably the worst possible combination, wasn't it?
I slid off her lap, intending to grab my sides and check just how much weight I'd gained — but when I noticed her curious gaze on me, I hesitated.
It must be the bones, I decided. That sounded believable enough.
"So… you two didn't fight, right?"
"Hm? Who?"
"You and Luisa."
"Oh, no. No, I don't think so."
Like the air around her, Emilia was always in motion.Even while sitting, she was rubbing her legs briskly, as if urging the blood to flow faster.Maybe that was why I could never quite keep up with her thoughts.
"Oh, is that so? Then that's good."
Deep down, maybe I was more of an optimist than I liked to admit.My head tilted back as I watched Emilia rise from the couch. Her trembling legs and the strained smile on her face made her look like a newborn calf learning to stand.Even though my throat itched from the dust in the air, I couldn't help but laugh. Emilia joined in, her laughter light and unguarded.
Talking to people is never easy. One you don't understand, another ends up hurting you. Building relationships takes effort — and there's never a guarantee it won't all be wasted in the end.
Maybe that's why I always overlooked things I wasn't truly invested in.
Even when circumstances force you to connect with others, no one can say how long those bonds will last. One moment, a minute feels like eternity; the next, eternity slips away in an instant.Perhaps it's these odd little contradictions that shape our relationships from the very beginning.
And yet — among all the struggles and small failures, you sometimes find a fragment of happiness.
So, what did I choose? Who knows.But I'd like to believe that meeting Luisa will somehow lead me toward a happier future.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I think… Luisa misses Euriel."
"Misses Euriel?" Emilia pressed a finger to her lips, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Why do you think that?"
I raised a puzzled eyebrow — and she mirrored the gesture, meeting my gaze for a few quiet moments.For a second, I thought we understood each other.But then she shook her head slightly, silently repeating the question.
"Well… she called out for her father. All night…" I added in a half-whisper.
"Oh, but Euriel isn't her father."
Her words came out as naturally as if she'd said fire is hot.To her, it was obvious — to me, a revelation.
As much as I liked to believe we understood each other without words, there was clearly room to grow.We were both surprised — just in different ways.
"What do you mean? How's that?"
"Hm? I told you yesterday — Euriel adopted her. Oh, wait." She touched her fingers to her forehead in mock realization. "You do know what adoption means, right?"
"Of course I do," I snapped, frowning. "I just don't remember anyone mentioning it."
"Really? Hm…" She paused, as if trying to recall yesterday's events. "Ah, right — you were daydreaming the whole time. Well, now you know."
With her hands planted on her hips, Emilia reminded me more and more of Quint.It felt like they'd switched roles overnight — or maybe even earlier, when she made me sit with Luisa in the bath.
If Euriel had to take her under his care, there was no longer any point in asking about Luisa's father.Whatever the reason, the conclusion was the same — he was gone.
"And her mother?"
The smile faded from Emilia's face, leaving only its shadow behind.
"It's been eight years since she passed…"
No more words were needed. Her expression said everything.I felt something crack inside my chest — cold and hollow, like the air outside.
What was I supposed to say now?Somehow, the simplest words were always the hardest to speak.
"I'm sorry."The phrase hovered in my throat, universal and useless all at once.
The truth was — the closer a person was to me, the harder it became to speak.Strange, isn't it?It's easy to shout love or gratitude when you don't really feel it… and almost impossible when you do.
Well, whatever.
I chose not to dig deeper and simply nodded — as if to say, I understand.
"That's why you need to take care of her, all right?"
"Eh?"
My first impulse was to ask, "Why me?"But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that question could only make things worse.
No matter how simple the answer might have been, it would just lead to more questions — and then, eventually, to another fracture. Another thread I'd have to pull tight just to repair what was already fragile.I wasn't eager to repeat what happened back at the temple.
If I couldn't ask "why," then what could I ask?
"What if I can't do it?"
"You can," Emilia replied immediately.
"And if I can't?" I insisted.
"That's simply impossible," she shot back even faster.
She was accelerating — as if the two of us were racing toward the speed of light. Her gaze, her expression, even her posture — everything about her radiated absolute confidence.It was hopeless to argue further.And yet…
"Why?"
"Well…" She thought for a moment, then raised a thumb with a grin. "Because it's your destiny."
"What…?"
Leaving me stunned, Emilia only laughed.
Destiny, huh?Even if she'd meant it as a joke, that persistent word kept circling around me like a fly.Too convenient to take seriously — but "coincidence" didn't sound any better.
Either way, it would've been a lot easier if, instead of preaching blind faith, Emilia just taught me how people become friends.Putting aside whatever experience I might've had in a previous life, in this one — I was little more than a reclusive girl.I could maintain connections, maybe, but creating them from nothing? That was beyond me.
I'd once heard that talent is doing something no one ever showed you how to do.If that was true… did some people just naturally have the talent to form bonds?
Under the weight of her unwavering gaze, my thoughts scattered, restless as the twitching of my toes.There was a chance that… no, I couldn't even find the words to finish the thought.
"I'll try," I said at last.
Forcing a smile felt like letting go of a small piece of myself — a silent surrender.It wasn't that I didn't want to be around Luisa… but when someone else decides for you, it's still unpleasant.And somehow, that made the will to try slowly fade away.
"Oh, right! Breakfast!" Emilia suddenly exclaimed, clapping a fist into her palm."I'll take you upstairs — you wake Luisa and Quint, all right?"
Even though I'd barely slept these past twenty-four hours, the last thing I wanted was to crawl back into bed.That brief rest earlier had only left me more exhausted.
Not too long ago, I would've jumped at the chance to lock myself inside my room.But now… that privacy was gone.And with nowhere else to hide, I couldn't even pretend to retreat.Luisa might've been quiet — but that didn't make her absence.
After setting me down on the second floor, Emilia pulled my hood up and ruffled my hair.
"I knew this little creature would suit you perfectly! Look, you even have a tail!"
"Hey!"
She tugged playfully at the tail, and I instinctively reached back to protect my rear.Frowning, I turned toward her — only to be met with her fingertip pressing against my cheek.
"Don't be so grumpy. Once you two become friends, everything will feel lighter. Trust me."
"Fine," I muttered, yanking the hood off.
For a few moments, I just watched her go — gathering the courage to face what waited behind the door.When her footsteps finally faded, the entire second floor fell silent.No creaking, no wind, no sound at all.
I scratched at my elbow and took a deep breath.With every inhale, it felt less like I was about to enter my room — and more like I was stepping into an unfamiliar world.
Well, whatever.
I pushed the door open.The bed was empty.
Scanning the room quickly, I spotted Luisa by the desk.She was hunched over, fidgeting with the hem of her pajamas, glancing toward the bed every few seconds.Her face was bright red — like she was standing next to a burning stove.
Seeing her like that, I instantly suspected something was off.
"Uh… what's wrong?" I asked, worried.
"S-sorry, I… I just—"
Her words tumbled over each other like marbles spilling across the floor.But I didn't need to hear the rest — her face said everything.
I slid closer, climbed up onto the bed, and leaned forward.A damp, cold smell hit my nose — coming from the dark stain spreading across the sheets.
"Hmmm, what do we have here?"Quint's voice broke the silence like a predator finally stepping out of the shadows."Yori, did you— hahahaha!"
"No! It's not—"
Panicking, I turned to Luisa.Her face had gone bright red, glowing like a volcano seconds before it erupts.Saying "it wasn't me" would've been the truth — but somehow, I couldn't say it.
Quint kept laughing, his voice pouring into my ears like hot paint.My hands trembled with the desperate urge to hit him — even knowing it wouldn't change a thing.
"It's not funny," I hissed through clenched teeth.
"No… seriously… ha-ha-ha!"
"Shut up," I whispered.
He didn't listen.His laughter filled every inch of air, impossible to block out.Emotion swelled inside me, smothering the faint voice of reason.Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luisa withdraw — not even trying to step in.That was all it took to understand: she was letting me take the blame.
"Don't be embarrassed," Quint chuckled, patting my shoulder. "You're just… ha-ha… not as grown-up as you like to think."
Sunlight flickered across my neck — bright, then dim, then bright again — as the sun slipped behind drifting clouds.Time was moving on, but from the soundless rhythm of Quint's laughter, it felt as though everything had stopped.
I could feel the veins at my temples throb, pressure pushing against my eyes.The bedsheet twisted in my grip as my hand clenched into a fist.
"Shut up! Shut your mouth!" I shouted.
Quint froze, caught off guard. He coughed awkwardly, like trying to force the rest of his laughter out of his throat.
"Yori… what's wrong? I was just—"
Before he could finish, my body tensed. I tried to throw the blanket at him, but instead the stool beneath me wobbled—
—then the world flipped.
A split-second of weightlessness— followed by a deafening crash.
Pain exploded up my arm as something in my elbow cracked, and a scream tore from my throat.My eyes burned, but I wiped the tears away before they could fall.
The blanket hadn't helped. Neither had the pajamas.My head struck my arm, ringing with the hollow echo of a tennis ball bouncing inside my skull.
Quint rushed toward me, trying to help me up, but I swatted him away.Every movement sent a shock of pain through my body, making my breathing ragged, my face contorted in agony.
"Don't touch me… Just go away…"
"Yori…"
I lifted my head — and met Emilia's eyes.
"What do you want!?"
The anger boiled up, thick and searing like oil in a cauldron.My teeth ground against each other, pain radiating through my gums.Even the air burned my lungs.
I wanted to scream. To claw at my face. To scream again.
Quint was a fool — but never before had I hated him this much.I wanted to reach out, grab his throat, and squeeze until he stopped.
But then — Emilia's gaze.Luisa's wide, terrified eyes.Quint's own guilty expression.
All of it cut through me at once.
Just moments ago, my head had been boiling with rage.Now… nothing.
My shaking hands rose to my temples, as if trying to shake off glowing embers.My breathing steadied, bit by bit.
Everything that had built up inside me had finally broken loose — like an avalanche tearing down a mountain.Or so it seemed, at first glance.
In truth, instead of an eruption, I just collapsed.
It was obvious I needed to apologize.But for what?
Wasn't I the one humiliated?Wasn't I the one made into a joke?Wasn't I the victim here?I—
And yet... maybe by now I should've been used to it — Quint never missed a single chance to tease me. But Emilia's expectations — and the shattered image in Louise's eyes — were what finally broke me.
In the end, my shouting, my movements — all of it was buried somewhere deep inside.I knew part of the fault was mine, but the looks around me said it louder than words — you have to apologize. You must...
"I'm sorry," I forced out, lowering my head and pressing my palms against the floor.
I stared down: smooth wooden surface, once webbed with cracks. My shoulders sank — a silent sign of defeat.
A breath. Then the creak of the floorboards.I hoped they'd just leave me alone. But when I looked up, Emilia was already kneeling in front of me.
With a small flick of her finger, the moisture vanished from Louise's sheets and pajamas — dissolved into the air as if it had never been there.She cast a cold glance at Quint and gave him a short nod, wordlessly telling him to go. But before that...
"Louise, take a bath. Quint…"
"I know."
It was probably the first time I'd ever seen Quint so subdued. He offered Louise his hand; she pressed her lips together, threw me a look — part hurt, part something else I couldn't name — and let him lead her away.
Their footsteps faded behind the closed door.Only breathing remained — mine and Emilia's.
Her arms wrapped around my back, pulling me close. Her hair brushed against my cheek.I winced — the pain in my elbow flared again.
This time, her embrace didn't bring comfort. Neither warmth nor the faint floral scent eased the heaviness inside.My hands didn't even move to hug her back.
Since yesterday, I'd felt the bindings tightening around me.No one had asked if I wanted to be this close to a person I barely knew.They just decided for me.
Come to think of it, that's how it always was.Listen and endure. Listen and endure. Listen… and endure.
But no one ever listened back.
Sitting there, hearing only Emilia's breath near my ear, I watched a strip of white drift across my vision. It felt like my mind was splitting, leaving behind a trail like a falling star — before disappearing completely.
"You know," Emilia said softly, "Quint… he's just like that. But he loves you."
"I know," I replied flatly.
"Really?" She leaned back just enough to look into my eyes. "Then why do you look so disappointed?"
Instinctively, I turned away, but her hands cupped my cheeks, forcing me to meet her gaze.A faint smile. Trembling palms. Eyes full of hope.To care for someone so deeply that it hurts — that's what I saw in her face.
"I'm fine. Really. I'm sorry," I said, my lips curling into a smile that refused to become real.
Eyes are mirrors.Maybe that's why mine shut so tightly — so I wouldn't see my own reflection.
"All right then..." Emilia sighed. "Do you mind if I change the sheets after breakfast?"
"Of course not."
She rose to her feet, brushed off the hem of her nightgown, and held out her hand.I placed mine in hers — though, deep down, I didn't want to.She must've felt it; her fingers tightened around mine a little more firmly.
We stepped out of the room — and ran into Quint and Louise.She'd already changed clothes, though I hadn't noticed her taking anything with her.This time, she refused to even glance my way.
Well… so be it.
Here's the translation of the provided text into English, aiming for accuracy and a natural, elegant tone that preserves the emotional depth and nuances of the original:
"Um, Yori…"
Emilia's hand loosened its grip and instead took Louise with her, leaving us alone. As the two of them disappeared onto the first floor, Quint ran a hand over the back of his neck and took a deep breath.
"Sorry. I really didn't think it would upset you. I saw that…"
"It's fine. You're always… joking," I said, my gaze dropping to his feet. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said all that."
"Yeah, but… I mean, of course I noticed Louise's nightgown was wet, and you… I thought it might lighten the mood."
Humiliate your own daughter in front of another girl? That's how you thought you'd lighten the mood? That's your idea of help?
A bitter taste filled my mouth—I'd bitten the inside of my cheek too hard. My jaw clenched, holding back unspoken words. My tongue pressed restlessly against my teeth, as if trying to break free. I realized I was starting to get angry again. So, I took a deep breath to calm myself.
"Well… yeah. That was harsh. Though I'm not exactly any better," Quint admitted.
"Yeah… we both acted poorly. I still find it hard to wrap my head around the fact that you're a kid," he said with an awkward chuckle.
What was that supposed to mean? Was it because I acted more reserved than other children that he got that impression? I could only guess.
"And who am I supposed to be?" I asked.
"Oh, no, no, that's not what I meant. I spoke without thinking," he said, waving his hands defensively.
"Hm?"
"Anyway, now that we've sorted things out, shall we head downstairs? They're probably waiting for us," he said, his smile overly wide. I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince with it—me or himself.
Judging by the state of my mouth, I would've gladly skipped breakfast. The taste of blood lingered, and it was unlikely to improve the flavor of the food. But I let Quint carry me along. Not that I had much choice.
His hand pressed against my stomach as he carelessly descended the stairs. My arms dangled lifelessly at my sides. With each swallow, the bitterness sank lower, seeping into my throat. A cough burst from my chest, and with it came saliva mixed with blood. I quickly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, desperate to avoid leaving any traces on my lips.
"Oh, sorry… I… never mind," Quint muttered.
He turned me over and cradled me in his palms. I always knew his hands were large, but only now did I realize just how massive they were. Or perhaps it was me who was too small, small enough to fit entirely in them?
With his mouth closed, Quint began mumbling something under his breath. I couldn't tell if he was trying to talk to me or if something was stuck in his throat.
When we reached the kitchen, I immediately looked up and met Emilia's eyes. She sat as calmly as ever, but Louise… her entire demeanor screamed that she didn't want to be near me. It was as if my very existence irritated her.
"Oh, welcome back," Emilia greeted us.
It sounded as though we'd returned from a long journey rather than just coming downstairs. I nodded in response, and she gave me a faint smile. Quint, for his part, didn't offer a single awkward comment, which felt oddly out of character.
On the table sat an omelet, slightly sunken at the edges, accompanied by a slice of stale bread and a mug of tea. The warm steam had nearly dissipated, but the faint aroma of eggs and herbs still lingered in the air. It wasn't surprising—given everything that had happened this morning, Emilia could hardly have had time to cook.
I wanted to say "sorry," but it felt foolish to apologize without explaining why. So, I stayed silent.
Quint set me down on my usual chair and took a seat across from me, next to Louise. For the first time, I found myself alone on the other side of the table.
As if I weren't their daughter.
I shook my head sharply, chasing the thought away like a dog shaking off water.
Taking the fork in hand, I broke off a tiny piece of the omelet, just to avoid focusing on the taste. As I brought it to my mouth, I noticed Louise: she was poking at her omelet with her fork, stealing glances at me. Even yesterday, it was clear she didn't want to be here, but now it was written in every one of her movements. I was the reason her shoulders seemed to shrink inward.
The metallic tang of blood still lingered in my throat, making it impossible to eat in small bites. I placed the omelet on the bread and began taking quick bites, barely chewing, just to get out of there as soon as possible.
How ironic: this was my home, yet I was the one running from it.
When I finished eating, I gulped down the cold tea and set the mug on the plate.
Here's the translation of the provided text into English, maintaining the same commitment to accuracy, emotional depth, and natural flow as before:
"Thanks. I'm going," I said, hopping off the chair.
"Oh… alright. Need help getting upstairs?" Emilia tilted her head, a hint of concern slipping into her voice.
"I'll manage," I replied with a strained smile, nodding as I left the kitchen.
Standing before the staircase to the second floor, I felt smaller and more helpless than ever. And part of that was my own fault. I'd relied too much on others—and look where it got me. A failure as a daughter, a friend, and maybe even as a person.
In manga, heroes often know how to fly or cast spells from the very first pages, even if they'd only played video games in their past life. A voice in their head is enough, and their hands weave magic on their own. Just be reborn under a lucky star, and your entire life turns upside down. But in reality, a fairy-tale world isn't so different from the one you're used to.
You don't learn to read or write if you've never seen the local alphabet. No innate gift can replace practice and effort. Even if a kid kicks a ball from the cradle, they'll never go pro without hard work.
I kept catching myself giving up halfway. And now—climbing up was proving far harder than going down. I only managed two steps before collapsing, exhausted.
I wondered how much time had passed since I left the kitchen. It would be humiliating if someone saw me like this.
I tried grabbing the next step, but a sharp pain shot through my elbow. My arm trembled and slipped. For a moment, I could already see myself smacking my forehead against the wooden step—but in the next second, someone caught me and lifted me into the air.
"You did great. You'll get there one day, I promise."
I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that from Emilia. But from Quint? His voice was soft, without a trace of mockery. I froze, unsure how to respond.
"Hm… Em, what do you do for a bruised elbow—warm it or cool it?" he called out loudly, making me flinch in surprise.
"What? When did you…?" Emilia poked her head out of the kitchen, her eyes widening instantly. "Oh, Yori, you're hurt? Did you fall on the stairs?!" She rushed over, practically snatching me from his hands into her own.
"She fell off the bed," Louise interjected quickly.
Her comment stunned me as much as Quint's words had. I'd expected her to avoid me now, even if we shared not just a room but a bed.
All this fuss over a trivial bruise only made me more confused. I won't lie—the coolness of Emilia's palm felt soothing against my skin, dulling the ache in my elbow slightly. But it also made me want to clutch my head. I didn't know how to react.
For most of my life, I'd been used to ignoring pain—men aren't supposed to show it. But now, in a girl's body, with "parents" fussing over me because of a simple bump? What was worse—the pain itself or their pity?
Was it nice? Hard to say. Awkward, probably.
"Feeling better, honey?"
From the outside, I was probably overreacting. Quint was always like this. I shouldn't have expected much from Louise to begin with. And Emilia… she wasn't even angry. She was just trying to stop me from saying things in the heat of the moment—words you end up regretting later.
Here's the translation of the provided text into English, keeping the tone introspective, emotionally nuanced, and natural, while preserving the original's depth and flow:
Telling Quint to get lost was wrong. But the words had already slipped out. Now it was too late.
All these thoughts, this swarm of emotions I couldn't control… Could we ever be a family again? And if so—how? I needed to accept things. Could I accept Louise? Did I want to? Or was I supposed to?
"Yori? Does it still hurt?" Emilia's eyes shone with worry.
"Oh, no, no. I'm fine. Thanks." I bent and straightened my arm at the elbow a few times, trying to show I was okay.
"Really?" Her voice carried a gentle skepticism, unconvinced by my smile. "Alright, if you say so," she said with a sigh of surrender, shaking her head.
As she carried me upstairs, I caught myself staring at the tips of my fingers. They seemed so delicate. A cold draft brushed against my cheek, just enough to pull me out of focus and lead me to that realization.
Funny, isn't it? Once again, I was pushing today's problems onto the future Yori. When that "future me" arrives, they'll probably be pretty upset with the past me.
Oh well.
Emilia set me down on the floor as soon as we entered the room. All this time, Quint had been silent—his behavior was as strange as if trees were growing on clouds.
Feeling exhausted and irritated by this constant swirl of thoughts, I simply reached out and touched them.
"Thanks."
"Uh… just felt like it, huh?" Emilia took my hand in hers. Quint followed her lead.
"Mm-hm."
"You should rest a bit, okay? I'll just change the bedding," Emilia said, patting my head before leaving the room.
The short time it took Emilia to grab fresh linens wasn't enough for anything significant to happen. Quint stood there awkwardly, occasionally scratching the back of his neck, unable to find anything to say—or perhaps unwilling to. I wasn't any better. We just stared at each other.
Not that it mattered much. A little breather never hurt anyone, right?
"Is everything okay? Why are you two just standing there?" Emilia asked as she passed between me and Quint, heading to the bed.
"Oh, yeah. We were playing a staring contest with Dad," I replied, shifting my gaze to Emilia.
"Oh, right, right. As usual, I came out on top," Quint said with mock pride.
"Really? Hm…"
Since we hadn't even been playing, I had no reason to argue. Given the state of my eyes, it's not like I had much chance of winning anyway; I was blinking more than usual.
After finishing with the bedding, Emilia brushed her fingers through the ends of my hair at the nape of my neck, as if running them through a field of wheat.
"Sweet dreams, honey" she said softly, then glanced at Louise and added, "If you get bored, you can come downstairs to me."
Louise only nodded. No agreement, no refusal—just a gesture.
"Well, I'll head out too. Got some business at the guild," Quint said with a slight nod, reporting his plans.
"Uh, sure. Good luck."
Of course, I'd figured there might be guilds and such in a fantasy world, but this was the first I'd heard of Quint going to one. Honestly, I'd never really thought about what Quint and Emilia did. She was probably a homemaker, but him… a slacker? Then where did the money for the house and our life come from? The thought crystallized in my mind for the first time as the door closed behind Quint.
When they both left the room, shutting the door behind them, I felt a prickling at the back of my neck. I glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes met Louise's.
I have to say, she was looking at me strangely. Her gaze had always been suspicious, but this time it was different. There was probably something she wanted to say or ask. On one hand, it might be better to find out directly, but on the other—I wasn't sure what I'd do if it turned out to be a difficult topic. Judging by the way she stood frozen in place, there was a chance it might be just that.
Still, after a few moments of that mounting pressure, I quickly reached my limit.
"Did something happen?" I asked cautiously.
Here's the translation of the provided text into English, preserving the emotional intensity, nuanced character dynamics, and introspective tone of the original while ensuring natural and evocative language:
Louise's tightly pressed lips trembled.
"That's… That's not right!" she burst out.
"Huh…?"
It wasn't that she scared me, but my shoulders flinched involuntarily, and I took a step back. Louise herself seemed to doubt her own words—her eyes darted around, her lips moved, but the words caught in her throat. She slapped her chest, as if forcing her voice out, and shouted again.
"I know it's… my fault, but… you shouldn't have said that to your father!"
I tried in vain to catch her gaze, but she stubbornly avoided me. Her words weren't a revelation, yet hearing them from her stung. She'd just stood by when it all happened, after all.
To defuse the conflict, I decided to simply agree. That was exactly what I saw as my greatest flaw. I was too… spineless.
"I know," I replied, lowering my head.
"You know, and you still said it? You don't understand… You!"
"I understand."
"You don't understand anything! You… you're just a stupid kid!"
Stupid? Don't understand…?
Her accusation pierced me like a blade under my ribs, clouding my mind.
You're the one to blame! You barged into my life and tore it apart! Everything that happened this morning… it's all because of you!
Where was that hero then? Where were you to save me from the mockery? To save… us?
My head was boiling, my vision rapidly darkening. My breath tore out, hot and heavy. My hands trembled with the urge to shove her, but…
"Yeah. That's right."
While Louise was practically shouting, my response was barely audible—a faint buzz like an insect. Judging by the shift in her expression, she heard it anyway.
An inexplicable impulse made me reach out toward her, but I yanked my hand back when I saw her eyes flick to my palm. Her cheeks and nose were red—I couldn't tell if it was from anger, the cold, or something else.
I rarely moved around on my own, and my feet were bare, without socks or shoes. I stood on the cold floor. A narrow rug stretched from the bed to the door, but I didn't dare step onto it. It was as if I could almost hear the hiss of steam as the warm air around me quickly dissipated. The chilly air clung to me unpleasantly.
Seeing no point in continuing, she waved me off. I noticed the moisture in her eyes and realized why—knowing what had happened to her parents. Her jaw trembled, as if she were on the verge of tears.
Everything was happening too fast, my emotions couldn't keep up. I had no words to comfort her. Not that I particularly wanted to.
With a suppressed expression, she took a few steps back and turned away, not looking at me.
So this is what it came to in the end, huh? The answer I'd been desperately searching for had come on its own. Maybe similar people do attract—but when they collide, they repel even harder.
I climbed onto the bed, leaving Louise behind. There was nothing more to say, and my thoughts clearly hadn't reached her.
Lying on the pillow, I could hear her soft sniffling. Even without looking, I could see her shoulders and hands trembling. It clawed at my heart, making me doubt my choice. But I was empty.
My feet tingled from the lingering cold, and I flexed and curled my toes, trying to warm them. My head kept buzzing. Though I drifted off at some point, instead of resting, I only grew more exhausted. My eyelids felt heavy.
Sleep had always been my escape. In it, there was no room for worries or cares. They simply fell out of my head. I'd reached my limit—and shut down.