“Phew. That gave me a cold sweat.”
Riersha wiped her forehead in an exaggerated gesture as she slipped out of the young lord’s castle.
She had nearly gotten her soul wrung completely dry by Pernoa…
“Young Lord, it is time to leave for the Grand Council Hall.”
Rosinante had appeared like a miracle and saved her.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Riersha had quietly fled the young lord’s study — and Pernoa, who had caught the sight of her sneaking away, said simply:
“You’re lucky.”
“……”
“We’ll have that full conversation later. I’ll hear the rest directly from you.”
Later had been promised, but for now, she had escaped in one piece.
When Riersha returned to her own castle, Sona hurried over as if she had been waiting all along.
Sona had witnessed Riersha’s earlier encounter — when Riersha had met with Isierd and been spotted by the other heirs.
“Miss Riersha, why are you sweating so much?”
“Mm. It’s nothing.”
“…Nothing happened, did it?”
“Yep. ’m fine.”
Sona let out a small, relieved breath.
“Here — a juice with ice.”
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver!”
Riersha downed the drink in one long gulp. She must have been terribly parched, because by the end, her head was tilted all the way back, reaching for every last drop.
“I’ll draw you a bath, Miss Riersha.”
“Okay.”
The entire castle was lined with Aquastones, but nothing could quite wash away the grimy, sweaty feeling of having been outside. Riersha darted to the bathroom and sank gratefully into the tub.
A small set of steps had been placed in front of the bathtub — just the right height for a little girl to climb in.
“Should I add some bubbles so you don’t get bored, Miss Riersha?”
“Yes!”
“Of course. I’ll float the rubber duck family in too, and bring you another drink.”
Sona said this in her gentle, lilting way as she began preparing the bath in earnest.
When fragrant, pleasantly scented bubbles spread across the whole tub, Riersha felt as though she had been transported to paradise.
She sank into the cloud of foam, and soon felt careful, tender hands working through her hair.
“I should do this as much as I can while you’re still small, Miss Riersha. Once you grow up, I won’t be able to.”
“Why?”
Riersha startled, tilting her head back to look up.
Her fair little face scrunched into a pout as she gazed upward, and Sona blinked wide eyes in response.
Then Sona smiled and, with a teasing touch, dabbed bubbles onto both of Riersha’s cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
Riersha wrinkled her nose for a moment, then whined.
“Why can’t you?”
“My contract as your personal knight ends when you come of age, Miss Riersha.”
“…But that’s still so far away.”
“Yes, it’s very far away. I only said it because I can see you growing more and more every day — please don’t worry about it!”
Sona smiled warmly as she said it.
But Riersha’s pout didn’t quite go away.
To think that she might not have Sona by her side once she was grown. It left her feeling unsettled.
The daily life of having Sona nearby had felt so natural, so given…
The thought that it might one day come to an end made her quietly melancholy.
That’s right. Nothing about this was ever guaranteed.
When she thought back to the past, nothing she had now — not a single thing — had been given to her as a matter of course.
Riersha lingered on a vision of the future for a moment, then stopped.
The future refused to take shape in her mind.
The memory of that last moment in the forest was simply too vivid, too overpowering.
If I make it to ten years old… if I keep living past that…
What would her family look like then?
If that day ever came, she thought she might feel something close to excitement.
⁂
“Ahh, that feels amazing!”
Riersha emerged from the bathroom in her little children’s robe, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan.
A white towel was wound around her head, and she shuffled around the room in her slippers while Sona watched her with a fond smile.
“Now then, let’s change into this, Miss Riersha.”
“Okay.”
“Arms up~”
“Arms up!”
Riersha threw both arms straight into the air.
Her small head popped through the neckhole of the dress, and within moments she was neatly changed into a blue pinafore.
Next came little dots of lotion pressed onto her soft, pale cheeks, then her hair was dried all the way through, and finally Riersha flung herself onto the bed with a bounce.
“Mm, nice.”
“Does it feel refreshing?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Shall I bring a snack? Or would you like to take a little nap first?”
A nap.
The instant she heard those words, Riersha felt her eyelids grow heavy as if by magic.
Blink. Blink…
Her eyes began to flutter slowly, drifting shut.
As she started to doze, Sona patted her back in a steady, rhythmic beat.
Buried under the blanket, Riersha tried to force her eyes open. But they kept sliding closed, and she let out a tiny, drowsy whimper of protest.
“Pfft.”
From somewhere far away came a soft laugh, half-swallowed — as if someone found her too endearing to stay quiet.
Riersha lost the battle against sleep and slipped gently into the dark.
⁂
Flash.
Riersha woke three hours later.
Sona, who had been about to come wake her for dinner, blinked in surprise.
A child’s internal clock, it turned out, was more reliable than one might expect.
Riersha sat bolt upright, rubbing her eyes with both fists, her face still soft and faintly swollen with sleep.
Her pink hair was rumpled in every direction. She mumbled blearily:
“Sona, how long did I sleep?”
“It’s time for dinner now. I already told the head chef to prepare your meal.”
“Mm.”
Riersha climbed down from the bed.
She was just patting both cheeks lightly with her palms to wake herself up when Sona spoke again.
“Oh — and Amanda came by while you were asleep.”
“Amanda?”
Riersha’s eyes went wide.
Amanda was one of the senior stewards responsible for managing Riersha’s castle.
What had she come for?
Riersha tilted her head curiously, and Sona produced a letter she had accepted on Riersha’s behalf.
“A letter arrived for you, Miss Riersha.”
“A letter…?”
Oh.
Come to think of it…
Riersha tore it open quickly, hardly daring to hope.
Inside, she found sharp, angular handwriting — every stroke saturated with the evidence of inner struggle.
Each letter had been pressed into the page with slow, hesitant force; the paper around the words was faintly uneven, as if the pen had paused and pushed down again and again.
To Miss Riersha.
This is Adil of the Kadimo Troupe.
Regarding the manuscript you sent previously —
we have reached the conclusion that it is simply too difficult to abandon.
We will prepare a performance that will satisfy you completely.
Please do us the honor of attending the opening night.
Adil, Director of the Kadimo Troupe.
Inside the envelope were three VIP tickets.
Riersha understood the intent immediately, and she nearly burst out laughing.
A letter this nakedly conflicted, this full of visible inner torment — its author clearly feared changing his mind again, and so had sent the tickets first, as an act of self-binding.
He had driven the nail in. Firmly.
Sona glanced at the tickets in Riersha’s hand and tilted her head.
“Are those… performance tickets?”
“That’s right. Adil sent them.”
“Adil… isn’t that the man who came as your guest?”
“Mm-hm. He’s the director of the Kadimo Troupe.”
Sona nodded in understanding. She already knew what Riersha had been working toward all this time.
Riersha studied the three tickets for a long moment.
One is mine.
Obviously one belonged to her.
And the other two…
“This one I’ll give to Sonnet.”
When Sonnet learned that the manuscript she had written was about to be reborn as a Kadimo Troupe production, how happy would she be?
It might be even better to let the ticket deliver the news rather than words — to let her discover it herself.
And the last one…
“This one goes to Father.”
“Is there a reason you chose the Young Lord?” Sona asked, curious. There were other family members, after all — and Riersha hadn’t hesitated for even a moment before choosing Pernoa.
Riersha lifted her chin and said, with a very grown-up air of self-importance:
“Ahem! Father is my investor.”
⁂
That night.
Pernoa returned from dinner with the elders and found an envelope sitting on his study desk.
He opened it.
His lips curved upward in a clean, elegant arc.
Thank you for your continued support, dear Investor ♡
A letter from Riersha had been tucked inside alongside the ticket — bright and impudent and unmistakably hers.
Pernoa rendered his verdict in three words.
“It’s a bribe.”
Indeed.
This ticket was Riersha’s bribe.
