Months, or even years passed.

Well, I would like to say so, and pass it all over my head as some childhood memories, but I really couldn’t. It had been...eventful to say the least, and I had finally understood why Miss Clara had blissfully remained single until now.

The first few days of our acquaintanceship, she gave me various potions of colours to varying degrees of nauseousness, and asked me to promptly consume them all. She had this look on her that said if I had not complied, they would still end up my stomach one way or another. So I obediently gulped them down one by one, ignoring the queer taste of each and every one of them. I was lucky the taste buds of a toddler were not very well-developed, and feelings of wanting to vomit were defeated by the desire to be wrapped around clean and soft blankets at night.

I was stuck in auditory and visual hallucination for the next few days or so. It could be considered the worst I had faced since having this second life, when I repeatedly encountered strange and haunting dreams of hushed voices and moans as I stood in an endlessly long and dark hallway. I saw brown hairs and brown eyes everywhere around me, and I had nearly bitten onto the hand of Miss Clara when I saw her flowing brown hair and light brown eyes.

The green-eyed child had taken to avoid from me ever since. His brown hair had been the most infuriating of all. He was initially bent on his mission to explore my non-existent wings, but after visiting me several times during my period of hallucination, he had wisely chosen to run away from me at first sight.

Seeing someone immediately retreating from sight the moment they spotted me put me off more than I thought, so I resolutely shut myself in Miss Clara’s office, hoping for the illusions to go away soon.

I was lying on the bed, trying to meditate on my back, when a little angel came inside the room. It was the white child. I did not recognize him at first sight due to the heap of ash-brown hair I saw initially. But his eyes were still the bright amber they were, so I stopped yanking on his hair the moment I saw them.

The white child was a very resilient kid. He endured my yanking, and even sat down next to the bed for a while to pat my head while I was half pinching his arm to stop myself from yanking at that brown hair.

I wanted to pat his head also, but I was afraid that it would turn into me grabbing a bunch of the brown-looking hair viciously instead, so I held back. I closed my eyes to stop looking at the brown hair, and tried to think of a way to pat him safely.

Then, I fell asleep. While being patted by a kid.

I had not known how sleepy I was. The dream of the hallway was particularly echoing in my mind, so much so that I even quivered at the sight of hallways, and I had unconsciously held myself from deep sleep.

It was the first dreamless sleep I’d had since a long time.

When I awoke, the white child was no longer there. I was relieved that no one was around to see my obviously very satisfied expression, which looked very much like a spoiled child.

I was also struck with a sudden feeling of loss. Had it not been days, no, weeks since the last time I saw Father? Why had he not visited me ever since? Why had he not been the one to protect me from this abuse from my supposed “Master”?

I wanted to cry a bit. My first sincere tears ever since my second life in this world.

In truth, I knew. I mentioned Father here and there in front of Miss Clara, but she either had nothing to say or only vaguely mentioned some excuses. While having those long and dark dreams, the first thing I thought of was my Father’s protective arms. In one of my dreams, I could vaguely make out his silhouette, his choppy flaxen hair, his fiery red eyes and stubborn black bags underneath that confident smile of his as he tackled the unending pile of paperwork. When I tried to grasp for that safe haven in those strong arms again, there was nothing but a ray of moonlight in a dark room, with only me and the heavily asleep Miss Clara.

He had left to protect me, but I was alone again.

After that afternoon with the white child, the dreams stopped coming.

...

“If I may be so rude to ask...aren’t you going to visit Miss Charlotte any time soon, Sir Marcus? It had been one week since she left.”

Dana, the previous caretaker of Charlotte, was asking in a half nervous, half concerned voice. Concerned, because the man in front of her, the one touted as the “Red-eyed Beast of Isla”, was now tumbling over himself doing miscellaneous paperwork for the Howard household.

It was outrageous enough that an ex-Knight Commander had to do this kind of job, but Sir Marcus had taken it up without a second thought, so as to be able to secure a noble protection for Miss Charlotte. It was all he could do to appeal to Duke Howard, who needed a male successor and not a dubious child from his dead daughter.

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As a Royal Knight, Sir Marcus had sworn under oath to never take up any Governing Title, meaning he could never be recognized as a Baron or a Duke or anything similar. Everyone and anyone knew that he and Miss Leticia were deeply in love, and Miss Charlotte had both the blood of the Howard and Blythe nobility flowing in her. However, Miss Leticia was dead, and as long as Duke Howard continued to reject Miss Charlotte as his granddaughter, Miss Charlotte was not part of nobility.

Sir Marcus would never let his and Miss Leticia’s child suffered the life of a commoner.

So he worked day and night...but even the servants could see that Duke Howard gave only the barest of care for Miss Charlotte. Her sleeping quarters was just a empty room previously used by the maids, isolated from the main residence. Dana was supposed to double up as her personal caretaker and also Sir Marcus’ maid. And worse of all, she was not allowed to receive magical treatment from the family’s contract doctor, Miss Clara Efferine.

Last week, we all thought that it was the last straw and Sir Marcus would just bring Miss Charlotte with him to leave the Howard residence. However, he gave his child to Miss Efferine, who was rumoured to have never taken up a single apprentice before, and continued to do the paperwork. And for a doting father like him, he had not come to see Miss Charlotte even once during this week even though Miss Efferine’s office was just a few doors away.

Sir Marcus seemed like he had not heard her question. She did not intend to push it further, personally, but she had been requested by Baron Blythe to ask Sir Marcus to visit Miss Charlotte. Recently, under the effects of some of Miss Efferine’s “experiments”, Miss Charlotte seemed to be in a mental state of confusion, so much so that the normally well-behaved child had yanked violently on the hair of Baron Blythe’s son the other day.

All the maids reported to me that she had been an unworldly obedient child, before her first “lesson” with Miss Efferine. It made one wonder what kind of lesson it was to teach to a toddler that had yet to walk. However, after that fateful afternoon, she started avoiding eye-contact with all the servants, or all people alike. If she was forced to look at them, she would have this wild and bottomless look in her jet black eyes that were unsuitable for a child. After that, the servant would be lucky to escape with only his or her hair being yanked at painfully.

Some even had their eyes directly poked at. The accuracy at which she struck and the viciousness at which she performed her attack(s) was so chillingly terrifying that all the servants agreed to leave her alone during the day and only tended to her during the night. It was a stroke of luck that she was a deep sleeper.

The same child was reported to cry or sob uncontrollably when going across hallways. All the servants, including me, concluded that it was just a form of harassment to whoever was holding her at the time. She so rarely cried that when it happened, her voice echoed throughout the isolated building and disrupted all activities, with the servant holding her feeling particularly guilt-stricken under the exasperated looks of other servants.

Strangely, Sir Marcus would still continue his work with only a mild disturbance to his pace.

The silence went on in the Second Reading Room. The tea Dana brought him in the previous break laid cold on the table.

She was having trouble breaking the silence when suddenly the door was opened. A grey head emerged, and Mr Julian walked in.

Mr Julian Ballester, the gifted child of Viscount Ballester, and also the treasured heir of Duke Howard. It was a common sight to see him in this section of the Howard residence, even though he was not supposed to. The hatred Duke Howard had towards Sir Marcus was in plain sight even for servants to see, let alone Duke Howard’s most loved grandson. If Mr Julian had in him any will to appeal to the favour of Duke Howard, the Second Reading Room, where Sir Marcus stayed to work, would be the last place to spend his day in.

Yet, Mr Julian was special. Although he was only five years of age, he could speak fluently, and could do elemental magic to some significant extent. He was an all-rounder in his studies and had a kind temperament, despite being overly formal and serious at times. So when he said that he wanted to learn swordsmanship and chantless magic from Sir Marcus, who used to be the strongest magic swordsman in the kingdom, even Duke Howard would turn a blind eye.

He was always much focused in his studies and training, and would always talk about those two things even when it was only him and Sir Marcus, who, in a sense, was his uncle-in-law. Thus it was particularly surprising for Dana when she heard the conversation between Sir Marcus and Mr Julian that afternoon:

“Good afternoon Uncle Marcus.”

“Julian...it might not be appropriate for you to call me “Uncle” freely from now on. As I am only your magic tutor, you should address me as Mr Marcus.”

“...I am aware of the reason for such change, and I will adjust myself accordingly. However, Un...Mr Marcus, may I ask of you a favour?”

“It depends on what it is. Do tell, Mr Julian.”

“...I was wondering if you could visit Miss Efferine’s office. Her new apprentice is still a young child and so I believe your experience with raising a child will be helpful to Miss Efferine in her attempt to bring up the young apprentice.”

“...Julian.”

“Mr Marcus?”

“... ... It is not in my place as a mere tutor to trifle with the family’s doctor in her apprenticeship. I also believe in Miss Efferine’s reputation as a magician and holy maiden. The young apprentice will be safe under her protection.”

“...”

“Lineage is not everything. Only with true abilities can one prevail in life. Even if the apprentice had dubious background, if she is able to grow strong under the tutelage of Miss Efferine, then...there is no need for me to interfere.”

“...I see.. .. .”

“...Mr Julian, it is no longer early. We will have our magic lesson tomorrow morning instead. Do excuse me as I have to continue with my work.”

“.. .. I understand. Please excuse me.”

Mr Julian silently walked out of the Second Reading room. The door was not fully closed. I could almost see Sir Marcus looking in the direction that Mr Julian left, with a deeply melancholic and regretful expression. He gripped his fist tightly. Then, a moment later, his eyes were calm again, with a shade of red so dark, it could be mistaken for a black colour. It reminded me of Miss Leticia’s eyes when she pushed Duke Howard – her father – away and went towards Sir Marcus, years ago.

Sir Marcus went back to work, as if nothing had happened.