The king was enjoying the festival with us, his presence wrapped in the warmth of the celebration. As his personal guard, my father had to remain by his side at all times. It didn’t bother me; after all, it was his duty. However, I couldn’t help but think he should spend more time with his own family.

  If he even had one.

  I’d overheard—in a conversation that didn’t concern me but that I’d caught anyway—that the king’s daughter wasn’t in the kingdom and that his wife… well, there the information faded into an uncomfortable void. Still, it seemed logical that a father would want to share moments with his daughter rather than escort another family. But I suppose this is the best for now. If the king needs protection, there’s not much to be done about it.

  We were on the dance floor, at the heart of the festival. Elders and children moved to the rhythm of melodies played by skilled musicians. Some even sang as they danced, lost in the joy of the celebration.

  I’ll admit it—the dances of this world have a singular elegance. A beauty that feels strangely familiar. It’s hard to explain… as if, in my past life, I’d felt a persistent nostalgia for a time I’d never lived, as if this era were the one I was always meant to belong to.

  It was so peaceful.

  “H-hi, e-excuse me…”

  A trembling voice came from behind me.

  Hmm?

  I turned.

  Oh, a girl. Her face was flushed with embarrassment.

  “Yes? How can I help you?” I asked kindly. Had she gotten lost? If so, Mother or Father could help her.

  The little girl fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding my gaze. I raised an eyebrow.

  What’s wrong with her?

  “I was wondering if… if you’d like to dance with me…”

  Oh.

  What should I do? It’s been a while since I last danced with someone. Besides, modern-era dances were completely different from these.

  Maybe I should try. It would be the sensible thing to do. It might be a good experience.

  I glanced around for Mother, but she was no longer by my side. At some point, she’d joined the dance floor with Father without me noticing. When? I guess I have no choice but to accept. I won’t go far anyway.

  “Well—”

  “Wait a minute!”

  What?

  Before I could respond, Isolde stepped between us. Her furrowed brow and the firmness of her stance radiated authority.

  “Lucy, you’re staying with me!” she declared with absolute determination, crossing her arms.

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  The girl blinked, bewildered.

  “What? Why?” I asked, perplexed. It wasn’t like I was going to disappear in the middle of the festival.

  “Because…” Isolde hesitated for a moment before lifting her chin with a defiant expression. “Because I said so. And because Mother told me not to let you out of my sight.”

  Oh, come on. She’s obviously lying. What’s gotten into her now? Her stiff posture, the way she avoids my gaze, how she presses her lips together… She doesn’t want to let me go.

  But why?

  “I’m not going far—”

  “N-no matter! You’re staying here with me.”

  She grabbed my hand firmly and dragged me toward where the king was watching the dancers without joining them.

  Before Isolde pulled me away completely, I glanced back.

  The girl had raised a hand, as if to stop me, but then lowered it in resignation. Her expression reflected quiet disappointment.

  And when I turned my gaze back to Isolde, I caught something else on her face.

  It wasn’t just annoyance.

  It was something deeper.

  A glint of fear, of stubbornness, of absolute refusal. As if the mere idea of someone else taking me away from her side was intolerable.

  Is she… jealous?

  I watched Isolde out of the corner of my eye. She was still upset.

  I moved closer and stood beside her, breaking the silence with the subtlety of a dagger slipping between ribs.

  "Why didn’t you let me go with her?"

  "Why? Because you can’t wander off from us. If you get lost, Mom and Dad will be angry."

  She was lying.

  I studied her calmly.

  "Are you jealous?"

  I saw her ears turn red.

  Oh, bullseye.

  I still didn’t fully understand it. Was it one of those childish sibling jealousies, the need not to share someone she considers hers?

  "And now why are you staying quiet?"

  I leaned slightly to see her face. It was completely red, with a barely concealed pout. I smiled, amused, but when she tried to turn away to hide, I had to school my expression.

  "So what if I am?!" she suddenly snapped. Oh hell, she really was upset. "You can’t go with anyone else but me. You’re still too small."

  She was right. If I thought about it coldly, I was far from the right age for something like that.

  "...Then… let’s make a deal."

  "What?"

  …Wait, I haven’t even thought of what.

  I thought quickly. Technically, I’m too young to have a partner. What’s the standard age? Fourteen? Fifteen? I have no idea. I never had a girlfriend in my past life. And when I was close to getting one… well, I ended up killing her during sex. I’m not particularly proud of that, in case you were wondering.

  I never experienced love that way.

  But… for Isolde, I can do this. I’m decided.

  "I won’t go out with anyone but you until I’m fifteen. Deal?"

  "What do you mean by that?"

  Come on, seriously? I don’t even know why I’m discussing romantic relationships with my eight-year-old little sister.

  But if this reassures her and guarantees I won’t have a girlfriend before fifteen, then it’s worth it.

  "I mean, until I turn fifteen, I won’t go out with anyone else with other intentions. Only with you, all the time, every day."

  I saw a small smile appear on her face. Still, she pondered it, as if analyzing whether the offer was convenient enough for her.

  "Hmm…" she mused before locking eyes with me. "Deal!"

  I smiled back and hugged her. Her cheeks were cold, but her hands were warm. In the end, we never bought gloves for her, so I ended up giving her mine. Though, as an alternative, we found a solution: Syrix.

  I managed to manipulate it to warm my skin, turning it into an improvised heat source. Efficient, yes. But exhausting.

  "Hey, Lucy…" she said suddenly, interrupting the hug. "Don’t you think he looks too lonely?"

  She pointed behind me.

  The king.

  I looked at him.

  Yeah, he seemed solitary. But not in the way of someone who chooses to be alone—more with the distant sadness of someone carrying too much weight on their shoulders.

  "Maybe," I murmured. "Do you think something’s wrong?"

  "Hmm… I don’t know. Ever since he’s been with us, he’s had that… sad expression. But maybe it’s because his wife and daughter aren’t here."

  Didn’t this sound too much like adult gossip?

  "I’m going to talk to him," I decided.

  The king probably needed company, someone to talk to. Though, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure a conversation with a child would be particularly interesting.

  "What? Wait, you’re seriously going to talk to the king?" Isolde asked, confused.

  "Sure. Why not? Just wait for me."

  I started walking toward the king.

  Isolde made a half-hearted attempt to stop me but failed.

  So I kept going.