I let the question drop. Maybe the chief didn't want to tell me—perhaps it was something private, or something concerning the settlement that wasn't my business. I decided to stay out of it. If they didn't want to share, it wasn't my place to pry.
Later, as I lay down to sleep, a conversation from the next room reached my ears.
"Why didn't you tell Master Ryuma about Hana?" Haru's voice was quiet but firm.
"Don't," Goro replied. "It's our duty to follow the rules, and Master Ryuma is someone we shouldn't disturb in personal matters. He is a god."
"But she's our daughter, honey," Haru argued, softer now, tinged with frustration.
"Hana's future is sealed. Now let me sleep," Goro said, voice heavier, more final.
I frowned slightly, propping myself on one elbow. Looks like the chief is having an argument with his wife about Hana… but what could the matter be
Instead of sleeping, I lay awake, calculating possibilities—what danger Hana could be in, why the chief and his wife spoke in such hushed urgency. Yet as I ran through scenarios, I surprised myself. Why do I even care? Was it because I'd grown some sort of affection for her? Because of her faithful service toward me? Or maybe it was just my nature… kindness I didn't realize still lingered in me.
As I puzzled over my own reasons, I heard the door to my room creak open. Soft, hesitant. I stilled instantly, closing my eyes to feign sleep. Quiet footsteps padded across the floor until someone sat near my legs.
I opened my eyes slightly—just enough to see. It was the chief's daughter, Hana.
Something warm and wet splashed lightly on my foot. Liquid?
I tilted my head to see better. It was Hana… silently crying, tears slipping down her cheeks and falling onto my feet as she wept in the dark.
My thoughts scattered. Why is she here? What's happening to her? Should I keep pretending to sleep? Should I console her? Ask her? My chest felt tight at the sight.
I finally sat up and looked directly at her. "Hana… what happened? Why are you here? And why are you crying?"
Hana quickly swept her tears away as if ashamed, her small hands trembling. She stood abruptly, as though to run.
I reached out, instinctively, and caught her wrist. It was the first time I'd ever initiated contact with her — the first time I'd held her. I tightened my grip, careful but firm.
"What happened? Don't run. Please… tell me."
She froze, head bowed as always, and then slowly sat back down near me. The moonlight spilled through the window, silver rays pooling around her like liquid light. I tilted my face closer and used my fingers to lift her chin.
For the first time, I saw Hana's face.
Under the pale glow of the moon, she wasn't just a servant girl. She was breathtaking — delicate features, tear-streaked cheeks, eyes so dark and deep they seemed to hold their own night sky. For a moment, I forgot everything else.
With my thumb, I brushed away the tears clinging to her skin. My other hand rested gently on her trembling shoulder.
"What happened, Hana?" I asked softly.
She swallowed hard, her voice so low it was almost a whisper.
"Master Ryuma… can you fulfill my one wish?"
I blinked, surprised. A wish?
"A wish? What kind of wish?" I asked.
Her hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white.
"Promise me you will fulfill it," she whispered.
I hesitated. Promise? I never promise. I've never done that in my life. But… no one's ever asked me in such a pitiful, desperate state before.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Okay. I promise."
Hana raised her head just enough for me to see the tears in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she spoke:
"Tonight… make me yours. Because I don't have a tomorrow."
I was in a confused state, my mind spinning with questions and disbelief. What… what is happening? I thought, frozen, unsure how to respond.
But as I opened my mouth to ask, I saw Hana slowly beginning to undress herself. Her movements were hesitant, trembling with both fear and determination, and my heart thumped loudly in my chest.
This… she's really serious.
I didn't move, not in panic, but instinctively felt the weight of the moment—the fragility, the urgency, the despair that had led her to this point. My mind raced, trying to understand, to weigh every possibility, every consequence.
She had already removed her fur, and I saw her pause as she reached to remove the crude bra made of leaves. My heart thudded hard.
"Hana… stop," I said firmly, holding out my hand. "Please. Tell me what's happening to you. Why… why do you have no future?"
She froze, her hands trembling midair. Her eyes, still glistening with tears, met mine briefly before dropping again. I could feel the tension radiating from her, the weight of something far heavier than the simple act she had intended.
Something is wrong… something serious, I thought. And she trusts me enough to show this much… I need to understand before anything else happens.